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science-hoes · 3 months ago

Text

Maroon

Michael Robinavitch x Reader

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, age gap, unprotected sex

Description: Robby makes sure the reader knows her worth after being stood up on a date.

Michael Robinavitch Masterlist

—

You knew you looked good. Fuck, you had spent three hours getting ready. Exfoliating your entire body to be smoother than marble. Shaving your legs and pelvic area. Massaging lotion deep into your skin. Blow-dried hair and flawless makeup. And your outfit. A long, red, satin dress that hung off your shoulders, snatched around your waist, and a slit that showcased your left upper thigh.

You walked into the Pitt, the clicking of your black heels announcing your presence. Every head, single and taken, craned to watch you pass by. The path up to the nurses' station might as well have been a catwalk. When Dana turned around, she let out a surprised laugh.

“Wow! I didn’t know you owned any clothes besides scrubs.” She teased.

You smiled and leaned against the counter. “To be fair, this is probably the only nice outfit I have.” You admitted.

Dana glanced around the room, and just about every person, staff and patients alike, were trying to sneak glances at you. “Well, you’ve certainly got everyone’s attention. Why are you all dressed up?” She asked.

You rubbed your hands together, trying to soothe yourself, swallowing hard before you spoke to mask any insecurities in your voice. “I had a date. Got stood up.” You replied.

Dana furrowed her brow when she saw your nose scrunch at the early sting of tears. “Stood up? Does he know you look like this?” She waved her hands down your body as if she were presenting you to an audience.

You felt a smile reach your lips again and giggled slightly. “I mean, he had only seen me in scrubs.” You answered.

Dana leaned in, suspicion in her eyes. “Was it someone from the Pitt?” She whispered.

You looked around to make sure nobody was close enough to hear, but you still shielded your lips when you mouthed the name “Matteo.”

She pulled her lips into a thin line and nodded. “Not surprised. Good nurse, but still a kid.” She said.

You shrugged, shoulders pulling closer to your frame to minimize yourself. “We’re the same age. I just thought he was a little more serious than that.” You confessed.

Your work mom pointed her index finger at you. “What you need is a man. Not some kid. Someone older.” She advised.

A huff of air passed your lips, and you stood up straight again. “Trust me, I’ve been trying.” You glanced around before leaning in again. “A certain stick-in-the-mud won’t hold a conversation longer than thirty seconds if it’s not about a patient.”

Dana chuckled. “Too bad he’s already gone home for the night. Otherwise, I think you’d have him wrapped around your finger if he saw how you looked right now.” She mused.

You smiled at the thought and compliment. “I’ve kinda given up on that. It’s out of my reach. Hence, my date tonight.”

“Well, never say never. Now why are you here instead of at a bar picking up hot men?” She asked.

You looked towards the doctor’s lounge. “I left my purse here. Has my driver’s license and everything. Just glad I didn’t get pulled over.” You replied.

She smiled and gave you a ‘get outta here’ nod of her head. “Get your stuff and go have some fun. Don’t let a stupid boy ruin your night. But not too much fun because I don’t want to see your body search on the evening news.”

You giggled and rolled your eyes. “Okay, fine. I’ll probably just go to Fenian’s across the street.” You agreed before heading toward the doctor’s lounge.

As you opened the door, you bumped into someone exiting the lounge. “Oh, I’m sorry.” The familiar voice said. Dr. Robby towered over you, still not looking down, distracted by the last few minutes of his shift. “This is a doctor's lounge. We ask that patients and families-“

“Doctor Robby.” You said, trying to get him to actually look down at you.

And boy, when he finally did. Robby’s breath hitched once he realized it was you. He had already pinned you as a patient’s girlfriend, probably in the ER after your boyfriend had an allergic reaction at a fancy restaurant.

“Oh.” Was all he could say.

His eyes scanned your body, lingering a little too long at your exposed cleavage. You fiddled with the delicate bracelet around your wrist out of nervousness and let out a breathy laugh. “Sorry, I just left my purse here.” You said.

Without a word, Robby held the door open for you, and you went inside. You grabbed your purse, slung it over your shoulder, and exited the room again. “Thank you.” You added before heading towards the entrance of the Pitt.

Robby’s eyes were locked on your calves as you strutted away in those black heels. He felt winded like he had fallen flat on his back and had the air knocked out of his lungs. Slowly, he walked up to the nurses’ station, not taking his eyes off you until you exited the building.

Meanwhile, Dana had been watching the entire interaction. Amused, she leaned back in her chair. “I thought you went home.” She said.

Robby rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous tic. “Uh, no. Not yet.” He answered.

“You look like you’ve seen an angel.” She teased.

He leaned against the high counter and shook his head. “No, I just didn’t recognize her.” He replied.

Dana rolled her eyes. “Come on, Robby. Productivity dropped fifty percent the moment she walked in the door. You can admit that she looked good.” She said.

He looked to Dana like admitting it out loud would be an unforgivable sin. It would verify that he had entertained the idea of dragging you to an on-call room with him or bringing you coffee at the beginning of your shift. “She’s half my age. I could be her father.” He replied.

Dana shrugged. “A young father.” She amended.

Robby rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t shake the image of you walking away. Hair bouncing on your back with every step, the sway of your hips. “Why was she all dressed up?” He asked.

“She had a date and got stood up. Can you believe that?” She answered.

No. He really couldn’t believe that. How does someone as intelligent as you, looking like a modern-day goddess, get stood up? But he said nothing to show his hand.

“I’m about to head out. Anything you need before I leave?” He asked instead, drumming his hands on the high counter.

Dana gave him a skeptical look. “No. Go on, get out of here before night shift drags you into a room.” She replied. And as Robby began to walk away, he heard Dana add, “She’s at Fenian’s.”

Fenian’s. The bar across from the hospital. Robby began to consider it. Showing up after his shift in scrubs that had probably come in contact with every possible bodily fluid that day. His eyes were sunken in from dehydration and sleep deprivation. All while you looked like a pin-up poster girl. And you probably had men on either side of you now, each trying to best the other to win your affections.

His mind ran on like that until he found himself standing at the entrance of the bar, the neon blue ‘OPEN’ sign shining bright in his eyes. He turned to leave, shaking his head in disbelief that he had even walked to the bar. Until he saw you through the window. Sitting alone at the counter. Legs delicately crossed, posture impeccable. You sipped on what looked like vodka and club soda, eyes peering up at the Steelers game on the TV. You looked like an angel in the low light of the bar.

Robby didn’t realize he had walked in through the door until a bell signaled that he entered. The bartender looked up and smiled. “Hey, Robby. What can I get ya?” She asked.

You didn’t turn around, eyes focused on the game. You hadn’t even considered that it was your Robby who walked in. “Shot of Lalo, please.” He answered.

His voice made your heart jump to your throat. You turned your head, hair tossing naturally over your shoulder. Robby smiled, but it was a small one. Slowly, he moved to sit at the barstool next to you, back leaning against the bar to watch a different game on the TV behind you.

“Can’t stay away from the hospital for too long, huh?” He said, trying to begin a lighthearted conversation.

You studied the way he sat next to you, arms crossed over his chest, head tilted up to watch the game. You smiled slightly. “I was supposed to have a date.” You answered, almost embarrassed.

“Didn’t show up?”

“No. He even had the day off, too.”

Robby finally glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. Your posture regressed to a slouch, and you stared blankly at your fizzing cup on the bar. A strange twist in his chest arose at the pitiful sight. He turned slightly to face you, leaning an elbow on the counter.

“You deserve better than that.” He affirmed.

You huffed at his words and took a sip of your drink. “I guess he really is more interested in Javadi.” You said.

Robby raised an eyebrow. “Javadi? You mean you were supposed to go on a date with Matteo?”

Your silent nod sent a vile jolt of jealousy through his body. One that he hadn’t expected. He downed his shot of tequila that he had let sit on the bar. The burn in his throat distracted him from the nausea pooling in his stomach at the thought of you and Matteo. Someone much younger than him. Better looking than him.

“Maybe it’s a good thing. I’m looking to settle down, and he doesn’t seem like he’s in that headspace.” You finally added.

Robby raised a finger to the bartender, who poured another shot for him. “Yeah, I don’t think he is.” He confirmed.

You glanced up at him as he threw back the second shot. It hurt to hear the truth confirmed, even if you already knew. But then Dana’s words seemed to creep into your mind.

“Dana said I need someone older.” You found yourself admitting.

Robby met your gaze again, feeling a whisper of warmth in his cheeks, unsure if it was the tequila or your words. “Older.” He repeated, though not as a question.

You nodded and turned to face him on your barstool. The slit in your shimmering red dress widened to reveal even more of your thigh, dangerously close to your hip. Robby couldn’t help himself from looking, and you noticed the way his eyes politely flicked back up to yours with a swiftness.

“Someone who knows what he wants. Knows how to take care of me.” You tested the waters, seeing if Robby would take the bait.

He remained guarded, but his eyes were riveted on your thickly glossed lips. “Take care of you.” He mumbled to himself like an oath.

You shrugged. “Or at least let me take care of him.” You added, voice laced with sultry.

Robby’s dark chocolate eyes snapped up, a twinkle of understanding within them. Your lips curved into a small smile, and you leaned in closer, your cleavage deepening from the change in position. “Do you know of anyone like that?” You asked softly, feigning innocence.

You were close enough now to smell the strong aroma of Lalo on his breath, and he was intoxicated by the sweet scent of your perfume. “I-“ He began to stutter, the pitch of his voice faltering. “You’ve been drinking. I’m not going to take advantage of you.” He said as firmly as he was able to.

You raised an eyebrow and tilted your head to your drink. “That’s Sprite.” You deadpanned. “I’m sober. Are you?”

Robby chuckled at the idea that two shots of tequila would make him feel anything. “Absolutely.” He answered.

Your bare knee brushed against his, leaning in impossibly close now. “Then take me home.” You whispered.

Robby’s hands trembled as he ran one through his thinning dark hair. “I don’t do hookups. I can’t do casual. I can only handle something real.” He warned. “I know you’re upset about Matteo not showing-”

“Robby.” You cut him off. “I never wanted him. I’ve always wanted you.”

The air hung heavy between the two of you. Your doe eyes were making him crumble. “You want me?” He questioned. Now he was concerned that two shots of tequila did affect him.

You rose to your feet, standing in between his spread legs now, still craning your neck up at him. The distance between your lips was minuscule, and for the first time, you placed your hands on his body, resting them on his chest. “I want you. Take me home.” You reaffirmed.

—-

The door to Robby’s house slammed shut after he pulled you through the threshold. He pinned you against it, hands resting on the wood on either side of your head. His head lowered so that your noses brushed, but he wouldn’t go any farther than that.

Your hands found rest on his chest again, flush against the fabric of his navy hoodie. “Are you gonna kiss me, Robby?” You asked.

Robby’s smile pulled to one side of his face as he studied the beautiful features of your face. “My name is Michael.” He whispered and placed a sweet kiss on your forehead. “Only here.” A kiss on your cheek. “Only for you.” A kiss on your jaw.

Your breath staggered at the sensation of his beard dragging across your soft skin. “Michael.” You tested the name on your lips. It felt intimate. It felt natural.

Robby grinned, and his teeth dragged across your skin as he finally made his way to your lips. Your mouth opened immediately to welcome his, slipping your tongue across his bottom lip. He answered with a quiet moan and deepened the kiss by grabbing the back of your head and pulling you closer. Your arms draped around his neck, pushing your entire body against his. You both savored the simplicity of kissing, learning each other’s mouths, familiarizing yourselves with the closeness of your souls for the first time. His hand that wasn’t rooted in your hair explored the curves of your waist and back, leaving a tingling sensation wherever it wandered.

After what felt like hours, he pulled away first but stayed close with his nose nuzzling against yours. “I’m gonna take care of you tonight. The way you deserve.” He whispered, lips ghosting over yours as he spoke. “But I have some ground rules, okay?”

You nodded, gently scratching his beard with your fingertips. “Okay.” You agreed.

“Number one. We can’t tell anyone at work. I don’t want anyone knowing what happens between us at home. And more importantly, I don’t want anyone questioning your judgement as a doctor because I’ve got a soft spot for you. Okay?” He pressed a kiss to your cheek when he finished.

You closed your eyes and nodded again. “Okay.”

“Number two. You’ll always communicate what you’re feeling. What you need, what you aren’t ready for. I’ll do the same.” Another kiss on your temple.

Another nod. “Okay.”

“And number three. Look at me, baby girl.” He tilted your chin up with a hooked finger. “Please don’t run when you see the skeletons in the closet.”

Your eyes locked with his deep brown ones that glimmered in the low light of his living room. For the first time since he brought you home, he looked timid. Like he was afraid of saying the wrong thing. Like he was terrified of fracturing the fresh connection you both made tonight.

A final nod, and you cradled his face in your hands. “I promise I won’t run.”

And with one more kiss on the lips, smiles pressed against each other, Robby led you to his bedroom. You never let yourself imagine what his home looked like, let alone his bedroom. But it was neat and simple. No decoration aside from medical journal papers stacked high on every flat surface.

He sat on the edge of his bed and pulled you into his lap. His lips trailed across your bare shoulder, leaving gentle kisses as his fingers delicately slid the straps of your dress down. You shivered at the light touches and pulled at his hoodie. Instead of taking it off, your silent wish, he stopped kissing your body and tilted his head up at you.

“If you want something, you have to use your words.” He demanded in a sickeningly sweet tone.

Your cheeks flushed at the commandment, and suddenly you felt powerless. “I want to feel your skin.” You begged pathetically.

Robby held your gaze as he shrugged off his hoodie, then pulled his scrub top and undershirt over his head, jostling his hair a bit. Your eyes studied his upper body. Freckles dusted his broad shoulders. His abdominal muscles were toned, but not excessively so. A couple of scars were cemented near his ribcage from hostile patient encounters. A glitter of gold lured your eyes to his sternum.

A smile melted on your face. “The Star of David.” You mumbled.

Robby tilted his head slightly. “Yeah?” He affirmed, unsure of why his pendant captivated you.

You brushed your fingertips across the metal, cool from the air. Your hands lifted the Star from his chest, inspecting it gingerly. Robby wouldn’t admit it, but in that moment, he felt like a dog on a leash from the gentle tug of his chain in your hands. And he loved it.

“I’ve always wondered what it was.” You mused to yourself. “You wear it every day.”

Robby nodded, an unconscious smile gracing his lips. “My savta gave it to me. I never take it off.” He confirmed.

“Softa?” You were unsure of the word.

“Savta.” He repeated with the utmost patience. “It means ‘grandmother’ in Hebrew.”

You smiled and nodded as the first branch into his past formed between you. “Savta.” You repeated correctly this time. “When did she give it to you?”

Robby brushed a strand of hair out of your eyes, thinking for a moment. “When I was about six or seven.” He answered. “It’s older than you.” He added with a wink, but couldn’t hold back his grin.

You giggled and threw your arms around his shoulders. And he laughed. Not like the sarcastic ones you heard at work when he was exasperated, but one full of heartfelt joy. The sound was so beautiful that it nearly brought tears to your eyes. His mouth found yours again, and you fell back into the waltz of lips.

His fingers grasped the zipper of your dress and lazily pulled it down, unsheathing your upper body from the silky fabric. Your chest became exposed to the frigid air of his home, and your skin tightened at the temperature.

Robby pulled away to analyze your newly exposed skin. Your breasts hung perfectly from your chest, and his absent-minded hand cupped one of them, massaging gently.

“So beautiful.” He murmured as his lips returned to your upper body, slowly moving his way down.

His mouth latched onto one of your nipples, pulling back with suction until a loud smack from his lips filled the air as your breast recoiled into place. You moaned at the sensation, digging your fingers into his scalp. He continued to the other breast, giving it the same treatment. Suck and smack. Then, he dragged his tongue across your nipple, rough tastebuds scraping smoothly against it. While he worked on one with his mouth, he used his fingers to tweak and tug at the other. You let out a squeal of delight, and Robby couldn’t help but chuckle.

“That feel good?” He asked before latching onto your breast again.

You shivered at intense pressure on your breasts. “Feels so good.” You mumbled.

Just when you thought the sensation had maxed out, the unmistakable hardness of teeth grazed across your nipples, and an involuntary scream left your vocal cords. The mix of pain and pleasure wasn’t new to you, but it had never felt this good. Robby looked up to you with those innocent brown eyes, teeth still clenched around your sensitive bud. With his gaze locked on yours, he relieved the pressure of his teeth, your skin snapping back to its configuration.

“Michael!” You shrieked, and your shrillness only encouraged him to follow suit for the other nipple.

Surely, by now, your fingernails had dug their graves within his scalp. But Robby relished the feeling of your oversensitivity inflicting pain of his own. With confidence, he trailed his hand down your waist, your hip, and to the slit in your dress. The very opening that taunted him at the bar, daring him to brush against your thigh in public. But when his fingers reached up, up, up to your hip line, he froze.

You furrowed your brow at the halt in momentum, and you looked to his face. He stared back at you, face suddenly unreadable.

“You don’t-” He began, but he paused to take in a deep breath. “You don’t have anything on under the dress?”

You studied his face, trying to understand what his angle was. Of course, you weren’t wearing panties. It was a silk dress, and any kind of…oh.

Oh.

You finally felt like you had the high ground again. An involuntary smirk found its way to your lips. “No.” You answered innocently.

Robby’s chest puffed out, and a primal, vicious jealousy coarsed through his veins for the second time tonight. The very notion that you went garmentless for your date with Matteo reinforced his mission to treat you better than that boyish nurse would have.

“You only do that for me from now on. You understand?” He growled in your ear.

The dominance made your spine feel weak, and you nodded. “Yeah.” You breathed.

Robby fisted your hair, forcing your face to meet his eyes. The same ones you often saw at work when he was reaching his maximum level of fury. “You can answer better than that.” He said.

Fuck, he was sexy when he was pissed. “Yes, sir.” You corrected yourself.

“That’s what I thought.” He relented, finally letting his fingers move under your dress again.

Rough, calloused pads brushed against your pelvis, moving down until they slipped against your weeping pussy. The sound that fell from Robby’s lips was unholy but heavenly as he collected your wetness on his fingertips, and your hips ground against them subconsciously.

You felt tears sting your eyes as the burning desire to be filled with some part of his body grew stronger. “Michael, please.” You begged.

Once again, Robby’s eyes locked on yours, and the desperation in his face gave you some hope. His index finger swirled around your external anatomy, collecting lubrication, before plunging into your pussy. And just that one, long finger was enough to draw a scream from you. A smug smile slithered across his face as he curled his finger inside you, pressing his fingerprint against your gummy walls.

“Think you can handle another one?” He cooed, pressing a kiss to your collarbone.

Your hand clenched around his bicep, feeling the muscles ripple underneath his skin as he fingered you. “Yes, please.” You begged.

Robby deftly inserted his middle finger, curling it in tandem with his index. The stretch was pleasant, and the added finger reached even farther inside you. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, letting out a string of shredded moans. “That’s my good girl.” He whispered in praise as he continued to pump his wrist.

Finally, once you adjusted to the width of his fingers, you formed a coherent statement. “Can you please fuck me?” You pleaded.

Robby’s smile wasn’t one of agreement but one that mirrored a parent admiring a child’s innocence. “Oh, sweetheart, we’ll get there.” He assured you.

His hand movements stopped, and he withdrew his fingers from your pussy, leaving you uncomfortably empty. He raised his fingers to his line of vision. Your wetness formed slick webs between his two fingers, and he studied it like a new scientific discovery. Then his tongue tore apart the webs, devouring every drop.

Watching him consume your juices with such fervor sent an involuntary pulse to your pussy, foreshadowing his next steps.

“You taste so fucking good.” He growled, pulling his large fingers from his mouth once he sucked them clean. “Stand up for me.” He ordered.

Knees trembling, you rose to your feet, trying to balance yourself in your heels. Robby held you by your ribcage, letting your dress fall to the floor and pool at your ankles, revealing your fully naked body to him. After sitting you back down on the bed, he knelt on the hardwood floor of his bedroom and delicately removed your heels like you were a reverse Cinderella. This level of care overwhelmed you, but you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Robby positioned himself between your legs, initiating a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses beginning at your ankle, moving up to your knee, then your inner thigh. He could feel the furnace heat of your pussy on his nose as he inched closer to your opening. Your knees hung over his shoulders, his hands finding purchase on the outside of your thighs. Then, without a warning, he engulfed your entire womanhood in his mouth, pulling back dangerously slow to create suction. The scream from your throat rivaled that of a psychiatric patient waiting for a room in the Pitt.

The overwhelmed tears from your eyes finally streaked down your temples as your back arched and head tilted back at his magical tongue. You repeated his name over and over and over, and his only answer came in deep grunts, the vibrations adding an unfamiliar sensation to your building orgasm.

His tongue expertly manuevered inside your pussy like a ship on treacherous waters. Every lick, suck, and nibble drove you farther from sanity. And when his thumb reached up to spiral around your delicate clit? Then you only had seconds until you spilled juices inside his mouth.

“Michael, I’m-” Your voice staggered, trying to focus on circling your release. “I’m gonna-”

Your first orgasm came in a tsunami, splashing juices into Robby’s mouth, which he gratefully lapped up like it was an oasis in a desert. Your thighs had clenched around his neck like a boa constrictor, but he had anticipated your release based on the pulsing of your walls around his tongue.

As you came down from your high, Robby kissed back up your body, whispering praises like “that’s my girl” and “so fucking good for me.” When he reached your face and your eyes could focus again, you saw his beard glistening with your cum.

You grasped the back of his neck and pulled him close in a kiss, tasting your own salty flavor. “You’re really good at that.” You mumbled, breath still faltering from your high.

Robby chuckled, dragging his nose against yours. “It’s easy when you taste like fucking candy.” He confessed.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, and for the first time in a long time, you realized he still had his scrub cargo pants on. Suddenly, you felt a surge of energy.

“Take off your pants.” You demanded.

Robby pulled away from your shared intimacy with a raised eyebrow. “Excuse me?” He asked in the same tone he used in a patient’s room when a junior resident defied him.

Your eyes narrowed, darker than they had been before. “Take off. Your pants.” You broke it down for him.

Robby didn’t know how to handle the change in dynamics. He had been in control in every sexual encounter he ever had since his virginity was lost in college. While he didn’t want to yield, something about the tone in your voice was compelling him to reach for his belt. He stood up straight, leisurely reached for the buckle, and tugged, letting the leather slither from around his waist. You sat up on the bed, watching him undress for you in the lamp-glow of the room with a similar view of power that he had once given you a few minutes ago.

Robby unfastened his cargo scrub bottoms and shucked them off, leaving only his grey boxer-briefs, stained with a pool of precum. You marveled at the man in front of you for the first time. His body was exactly what you imagined in your late-night fantasies. Six foot one, muscled appropriately, and…

Actually, you hadn’t imagined that. His cock bulging from his boxer-briefs, threatening to shred through the fabric. Much larger than you had pictured based on his height and weight, which was already pretty large.

His hand unconsciously massaged his aching dick, and that brought you back to reality. You tilted your head, crossing your ankles over the edge of the bed. “Why are you touching yourself?” You asked, sitting closer to the edge of the bed. “My mouth is right here.”

Robby’s eyes widened slightly, even though he had plenty of blowjobs in his lifetime. But something about your tone excited him. That you were eager to suck him off. You reached a hand out and snatched the waistband of his boxer-briefs, reeling him closer. Then, in one swift motion, you pulled them down, and his cock sprang out, nearly smacking your jaw.

Fucking glorious. Cut, veined, thick, and tilting down from the sheer weight. Your mouth watered at the sight, and your pussy clenched in preparation for later. You wrapped your hand around his cock, barely fitting your grasp, and brushed the tip of your tongue across the head. Robby grasped the back of his neck with both hands, groaning at the lightest touch. You licked up the pearls of his precum, indulging in the salty appetizer. Your moans of delight and its resonance sent a shiver up his spine. He grasped a fistful of your hair to ground himself.

“Listen, kid, I’m not gonna be able to last very long if you keep-” He began.

But you cut him off by plunging down his length with your mouth until your nose was snug against his pelvis. The yell he let out was visceral and animalistic. You half expected him to yank at your hair, but instead he pushed you deeper. Your throat stretched with his length, surely bruising your soft palette. You pulled away, mouth watering even more from the gag reflex.

Robby whispered your name, but you sunk down on him again, drawing another carnal scream from his vocal cords. This time, you remained in place, letting him feel with his free hand the stretch in your esophagus from his cock. He pulled away this time, refusing to let himself come in your mouth.

With impressive ease, Robby man-handled your body and tossed you up further on the bed, crawling over you until his face hovered above yours. “You can take care of me another time.” He whispered, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips. “Tonight is about you.”

Your eyes were lost in his again, and for a moment, neither of you moved. But in that moment of peace, you felt a dangerous vulnerability. Your brows furrowed, holding back unexpected tears. “This isn’t a one-night stand, right?” You whispered.

Robb’s face softened, almost to sadness that he hadn’t already convinced you otherwise. With one elbow propping him above your body, he used his free hand to brush some disheveled strands of hair from your face. “Listen to me.” He ordered with the same authority he used in the hospital. “I told you I can’t do casual hookups. I meant that. This is something that I’ve wanted for an embarrassingly long time. I’m right here, right now. And I will be right here tomorrow.” He continued. “And the next day.” He pressed a kiss to your collarbone. “And the next day.” A kiss to your neck. “And the ne-”

You cut him off with a cheerful kiss, smiling against his lips. Robby let his body press heavier against yours in the moment of innocent love, although you wouldn’t say that out loud for another couple of months. “Michael.” You breathed against his mouth.

He hummed in response, moving his lips down your jaw, tempted to leave territorial marks on your neck for the rest of the Pitt staff to see. You grabbed his face so his eyes met yours again, forcing the connection. “I am begging you. Please fuck me.” You whispered.

Robby finally gave in, deciding he had worshipped you long enough for tonight. With a nod, he reached down and lined his cock up to your entrance, The tip nudged against your threshold, and you gave him a nod of confirmation. Slowly, every inch of him buried deeper, deeper inside you. The stretch of your pussy was paralyzing, and you couldn’t make a sound despite your open mouth.

Once he sank all the way, maxing out at the hilt, he gave a pathetic grunt. “Oh, fucking hell.” He breathed, unable to move from the overpowering tightness of your walls.

For a minute, you both remained still to adjust to each other. Tears welled in your eyes again at the overexpansion of your pussy. Then he began to move. In and out. In and out. A slow, molasses pace to start out. Your breaths were heavy to adjust to his unprecedented size, and his breaths staggered to hold his orgasm back from your tightness. But as he continued to move, you eventually began to meet him in the middle.

Vulgar squelching sounds of your sopping wet pussy meeting the wall of his firm pelvis filled the bedroom. His hips pistoned into yours, the pace becoming steadier and controlled. His eyes never left your face, which scrunched in ecstasy and bliss. He wished he could save that image forever.

There were other positions he wanted to fuck you in. On your knees in his bed, ass in the air. Against the wall of an on-call room. In the backseat of his truck on a hiking trip. Riding him reverse cowgirl on his living room couch. But right now was for both of you. For the months of stolen glances at each other in the Pitt, lingering hands while trading CPR positions, hopeful wishes that the other showed up on a random night shift assignment.

Robby dropped his head to capture your lips as he railed into you. Gratefully, you returned the kiss, grasping the short strands of hair on the back of his head. His Star of David pendant slapped against your chin over and over and over. “Michael.” You whispered in the same cadence that alerted your first orgasm.

He nodded, reaching down to your clit again to work you through the next release. “That’s right. I can feel you getting ready.” He guided, circling your sensitive spot again and again. “Come for me one more time.” He pleaded.

It didn’t take much for your high to snap again. Your walls clenched around his cock, soaking it further. Robby grunted at each squeeze of your pussy, hips becoming weaker as he neared his own climax.

“I’m almost there.” He breathed. “Where do you want me?”

Your eyes snapped open through your dazed bliss, and your legs wrapped around his waist. “Inside me. Please, Michael. I want to feel you.” You pleaded.

That was all Robby needed to hear. A few more vulnerable grunts, and he erupted inside you. Each hot rope of cum was an unusual sensation. He was the first person you allowed to come inside you, let alone beg. He collapsed on top of you, chest heaving. Your hand lazily ran through his sweat-soaked hair.

“I’ve wanted that for a long time.” You admitted, rubbing circles with your other hand on his slippery back.

Robby pressed a gentle kiss to your dewy chest. “Me too.” He agreed.

For a few minutes longer, while your vitals returned to normal, there was peace and quiet for the first time that night. Just exhausted bodies clinging together, enjoying the silence in each other’s presence.

Finally, Robby sat up. “Wait here.” He instructed before heading to his bathroom. You heard the shower start, and he emerged with a dampened wash cloth.

He sat on the edge of his bed, dark hair slack against his forehead from sweat. He cleaned you up with the cloth, making sure nothing was left behind. Then, he placed a hand to the side of your face, cradling it. “Let’s shower and go to bed, okay?” He whispered,

You agreed and followed him to the bathroom. You both reveled in the warmth of the shower, washing each other and kissing until the water turned icy cold. Robby supplied you with a fluffy towel to dry off with, a New Orleans t-shirt, and a pair of his boxer briefs as pajama pants. Once you both settled into his bed again, he pulled you close. Closer than any man had ever held you at night.

“Gotta work tomorrow?” He mumbled against your wet hair.

You shook your head. “No. Seven on, seven off.” You whispered. “What about you?”

“Nope. Seven on, seven off.” He replied.

And with the next week off, you both had plenty of opportunity to make up for lost time.

A/N: This ended up being a 6.2k word fic that I wrote after having some wine. This was definitely NOT proofread, but I did my best! I enjoyed writing this so much. I love Michael Robinavitch with my whole heart.

#the pitt #the pitt hbo #michael robinavitch #dr michael robinavitch x reader #dr. michael robinavitch #michael robinavitch x reader #dr robby #doctor robby #noah wyle #the pitt fanfiction #dana evans

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hellenhighwater · 3 months ago

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In a completely baffling turn of events, today I opened up my wallet and discovered, tucked into an internal pocket, a current, valid, Michigan Concealed Pistol License ID card belonging to a man I'd never met. (CPL cards are heavy plastic, like a driver's license.) It's a validly issued CPL. He's a real person who lives in Michigan--I found his voting records, home address, social media accounts, and other information with a bit of searching, and can confirm I have never met this dude. He does not live anywhere nearby. The wallet is one I just use for my ID's--bar card, courthouse keypass, drivers license, employee ID, etc. Not something I pull out on a daily basis; very definitely not something I hand off to other people. Even more confusingly, this man is twenty years older than me to the day. We have the same birthday. But I don't know him; I don't even know anyone who knows him.

Which leaves me with the utter mystery of how the hell some random guy's concealed pistol license wound up in my purse

#the only realistic explanation is that when I bought this wallet 6 mo ago they gave me one that had been sold and returned #and this guy left his id buried in a weird flap somewhere and it just worked its way out recently? It DOES NOT MAKE SENSE.#i do have a pistol i do not have a CPL #but i work in criminal law i know a valid CPL when I see one #and I cannot fathom a reason for someone to reverse pickpocket this into my wallet inside my bag.#i bought the wallet online too and not from a local MI company #SO baffled

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smutoperator · 7 months ago

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Detention

Hong Eunchae x Male Reader

Tags: anal, bad cop, begging, daddy kink, dungeon, facial, (lots of) flogging, hole switcheroo, nipple clamps, punishment, teen, vibrator, virgin

Word count: 4020

Every time someone turns 18, they want to try something new that was once not allowed to them. It was no different for Eunchae, who had just got her driver's license.

Eunchae hopped in the car alongside her group leader, Chaewon, who would be instructing her. Both had taken a couple of drinks a few hours before as well but thought it was no big deal. However, things were about to change quickly.

A cop stopped the car Eunchae was driving. "Can you please show me your license?" you asked her. Eunchae started searching her pockets but couldn't find it, growing increasingly desperate. "I-I can't find it," she said.

"Sure, I'll check your alcohol levels too," you said, handing Eunchae a breathalyzer. She was shocked as she found out she was over the legal limit, feeling she was truly screwed. The teenager started crying, but you were merciless towards her. "You're under arrest," you announced to her, dismissing Chaewon shortly after as she passed her test.

Eunchae looked scared as you drove her to jail, detaining her in an individual cell. You kept looking at her tall, young body as she walked around the cell, pondering if she would be able to get bailed out without being involved in a scandal.

"How much do I have to pay to get set free?" Eunchae asked. You, however, just ignored her, checking the paperwork of her arrest. "Come on, I know you can hear me," she said. You finally got up and handed her a few papers. "I need you to sign this," you said.

"Can you explain to me what this paperwork is about?" Eunchae kept asking. "Damn, just sign it," you say, losing your patience and exiting the room. "Please, come back; don't leave me here," Eunchae begs.

"I'll sign it," Eunchae says as you return a couple of minutes later. "Good, that's what I wanted," you tell her. "Now, can you please get me out of here?" she asks. "Yes, but first I need you to take your clothes off," you tell her.

"Why is that necessary?" Eunchae asks. "I'm the one giving the commands; you just obey them, young brat," you say. "Fine," Eunchae says as she starts to strip herself, struggling as you handcuffed her during the arrest. "This is so frustrating," she says. "COME ON, TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES, YOU FUCKING SLUT," you yell at her, getting mad.

Eunchae obeys and slowly strips herself down. "HURRY UP, YOU'RE TAKING TOO LONG," you keep screaming. "You could help and take those handcuffs off me," she says. "Nah, that's not gonna happen," you tell her. "Now, take off your panties," you tell her.

"Ok, now what?" Eunchae asks. "Put your hands right here," you tell her, indicating an opening at the cell as you take her handcuffs off, staring at her naked teen body. "Put your hands behind your back, turn around, and put your ass over here," you keep commanding. Eunchae obliges. "Now spread your fucking ass for me," you keep ordering.

You pick up a butt plug and insert it in Eunchae's virgin asshole. It takes you a while as her tight butthole doesn't budge with the pressure of the object, but you finally manage to do it. "Ok, now put your clothes back on quickly," you tell her as Eunchae follows your orders, and you cuff her hands back again but release her from jail.

"Let's go to the room; I need to ask you some questions," you say to her. Eunchae is scared, fearing you'll do something bad to her. "Don't panic; if you behave well, you'll soon be free. Just be quiet," you tell Eunchae as you grab her face and open the doors of the room. However, as soon as she is in there, Chaewon calls her, and her phone rings loudly.

"You had one rule and managed to violate it, such a fucking brat. Now you're going to the dungeon," you tell Eunchae. As she gets into the dungeon, you strip her naked, tying her body to a table while putting a gag in her mouth. She spots the signed photos of many idols, including her fellow groupmates. Her driver's license is on your desk, making her wonder if this was a set-up all along.

"I'm gonna punish you, young brat. All you had to do was follow my rule; now you'll face the consequences for being a bad girl," you tell Eunchae, looking at her face as you carry a whip in your hands. "Do you understand me?" you ask Eunchae, giving her naked ass a couple of spankings. Eunchae nodded positively as her mouth was covered.

"I don't think you had enough discipline; now I'm gonna teach you how to be a proper adult. Do you understand me?" You ask her, giving her ass a few more spankings. Eunchae agrees, but with the gag in her mouth, the words struggle to come out. "I WANT TO HEAR IT LIKE YOU FUCKING MEAN IT," you scream at her.

"How much do you want me to spank you?" you ask Eunchae. "Say it," you continue as her words keep getting muffled. "A lot," you finally manage to hear what she said. "And what do you want me to do to you?" you keep asking. "I want you to fuck my virgin holes," she answers.

Hearing it drives you crazy. You spank Eunchae's ass multiple times. "That's what she wants, you fucking bitch, a good fucking punishment," you tell her, laying your hands all over her body. "You're such a good little girl learning a lesson and teaching you the fucking rules, do you understand?" you keep asking. "Yes," Eunchae answers. "That's what I want to hear," you say.

You bring an even larger whip to hit Eunchae. "Is that what you want? Should have followed the rules, slutty bitch," you tell her, hitting her body with multiple angles but focusing especially on her ass. "What do you say when I spank you?" you ask her. "You say, 'Thank you, Daddy," you quickly answer.

"Thank you, Daddy," Eunchae says, trying to make you hear it despite the mouth gag. "If you take your punishment well, I'll give you a present. Are you gonna behave?" you ask her. "Yes, daddy," she answers as you keep flogging her 18-year-old body, turning it red.

"I think that's good enough," you say, looking at Eunchae's body now full of your red marks. You bring a Hitachi vibrator and place it in her virgin pussy. "What do you say?" you keep asking. "Thank you, Daddy," she answers. "Louder," you say. "THANK YOU, DADDY," she screams. "Now, follow the rules and don't cum without my permission," you continue, increasing the speed of the vibrator.

Eunchae tries to resist as the vibrator heavily massages her pussy. "Don't fucking cum," you tell her, taking the gag out of her mouth as the massage only gets more intense, making Eunchae moan with the pleasure it gives her. "How does it feel?" you ask her. "It feels so good, Daddy," she answers. "How many times have you had one of those massaging your pussy?" you ask her. "A few times, Chaewon unnie has one, and sometimes I borrow it to masturbate while she's away," Eunchae answers.

You spread Eunchae's tight pussy open, making it vibrate further. She moans, trying to resist as much as possible not to cum as you pick up the speed of your moves. Some juices leak out of her teen cunt. "Let me put you right on your fucking clit," you say, spanking her as well. "Thank you, Daddy," she says.

"I think I'm being too nice to you; what do you think?" you ask Eunchae. "I don't know," she answers. "You don't know? Well, looks like you need more discipline," you say, hitting her with a whip. "Looks like you need some cock," you say. "Yes, daddy, my virgin pussy is aching for your cock," Eunchae answers.

"Say it like you mean it," you demand of Eunchae, shoving your clothed pants in her face. "I need your cock so bad, daddy," she answers, licking it. "LOUDER, BEG FOR YOU," you demand. "I NEED YOUR FUCKING COCK DEEP IN MY VIRGIN PUSSY," she screams shortly after.

"And what are you gonna do to get it?" you ask Eunchae. "Anything you want, daddy," she answers. "Okay, there you go," you say, putting a pair of clamps on her nipples. "Perfect, now I can give you some of that cock, but you better keep begging for it," you tell her.

"Please put that cock in my pussy, please," Eunchae keeps begging. You make it as hard as possible for her, shoving your dry shaft inside her virgin cunt. "Ahhhh, oh yeah," she moans as you go very slow, amazed at how tight her teen pussy is. "Tell me how it feels," you say to her. "So fucking good, daddy," she says as you slowly pick up the speed and grab her ass.

"Oh yes, you work my pussy so good, daddy, how does it feel to you?" Eunchae asks. "It feels so fucking tight; how does my big cock feel in it?" you reply, grabbing her hair. "Amazing, keep fucking and spanking me, daddy," Eunchae begs as your thrusts get faster and faster.

"Let me take this out," you say, taking a little break and removing the butt plug you placed inside her anus some hours ago. It struggles even more to get out just like it did to get in, but once it does, you can see her perfect virgin pink asshole and enjoy how small and cute it looks.

"Tell me how much you want that cock back; beg for it," you demand of Eunchae. "Please, Daddy, put it back in my pussy," she says. "Say it again," you tell her. "Please, put your cock in me," she replies. You got much faster this time. "Thank you, Daddy; keep spanking my ass," Eunchae begs. "Are you gonna fucking start listening to me? Oh fuck," you ask, but get interrupted by a groan as Eunchae's teen walls squeeze your fat cock hard. "You like that 18-year-old pussy a lot, don't you, daddy?" she asks.

"Oh yeah," you tell Eunchae. "Now I'll make you taste it," you continue, grabbing her head and fucking her face at full speed, making Eunchae choke hard on your dick. "Open those fucking eyes," you say as your cock gets deep in her throat and you treat her face like an onahole. "What do you say?" you ask every time she gags and you spank her ass. "Thank you, Daddy," she answers. "Then open your mouth," you continue, shoving your cock further balls deep in her mouth and covering her nose.

"You want more of this fucking cock?" you ask Eunchae as you grab her hair. "Yes, please, daddy," she begs as you jerk it off. You get back at fucking her pussy from behind. "Just like that, daddy, give it to me; it feels so fucking good," she says. You keep pulling her hair as you pound her teen cunt faster and faster, her ass completely red after so much spanking. "Is that what you want, young brat?" you ask her. "Ohhhh yeah, fuck my tight little pussy," Eunchae keeps begging as she answers you.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes," you keep saying as you get deeper and deeper inside Eunchae's pink pussy. "Keep going; show me how much you like that pussy," she tells you. "Don't fucking move," you say as you give her clit some rubbing and keep pumping her teen cunt. Eunchae turns into a moaning mess. "Yes, daddy, you fuck that pussy so good," she keeps saying, her perky young tits bouncing and her cheeks getting clapped as your thrusts only get more intense. "Oh yeah, daddy, use that young pussy," she says, making you grow even more animalesque, fucking her like a bull and masturbating her clit hard.

"May I please cum?" Eunchae begs as your big hands are all over her throbbing clit. You don't answer her question, just getting more and more committed to fucking her teen pussy harder and harder before finally answering. "Yes, cum all over my cock, you slutty brat," you say.

You slow down and let Eunchae's juices coat your cock. "Taste that fucking cum," you tell her when she's finally done, turning around and shoving your creamy cock in her young face. "That's it, open that fucking mouth, show me how much you enjoy that fucking cum," you say to her. "Thank you, Daddy," she says.

You grab Eunchae's face and spit on her. "You want more of this fucking cock?" you ask. "Yes, daddy," she quickly answers. "You want it in your fucking ass too?" you keep asking. "Yes, please," she answers. "Then beg louder," you reply.

"PLEASE, DADDY, I WANT YOU TO USE ALL MY HOLES," Eunchae screams. "Beg louder," you command as you spank her butt. "PLEASE, PUT YOUR COCK IN MY ASS," she says. "Keep saying it," you continue. "Put it in me, in my ass, please," she keeps begging.

You shove your cock in Eunchae's butthole in one go, as the butt plug spread it enough for an easy slide. "Ouch," she moans as if she were stabbed. "Oh fuck," she keeps moaning as you punish her as if she was a veteran of anal sex like her unnie Chaewon, not a young girl who to this point had only inserted bananas and butt plugs up her asshole, but never a real cock.

"You like fucking my asshole, daddy?" Eunchae asks. "Yes," you say as you spank her butt. "How about you, bitch?" you reply. She answers positively, but you can clearly tell she's struggling with such a massive cock in her tiny teen asshole, especially with the speed you fuck it. "Don't move that fucking ass; you're getting fucking punished," you say to her.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, rub that clit, please. Thank you, Daddy," Eunchae says as it gives her some relief from the fast and deep thrusts you give inside her ass. "Keep going, daddy, you play with my clit so good," she says. "Oh, fuck yes, there you go; look at that ass getting stretched out by that big fat cock," you say, picking up the speed further. "FUCK," Eunchae screams as not even your hands in her clit can make her cope with the heat your cock puts in her asshole.

Luckily for her, you have some mercy and switch back to her pussy, but that doesn't change much, as Eunchae's holes are throbbing hard now. "OH FUCK YES," she screams as your cock goes back to pumping her cunt, losing no speed as it switches holes, staying at the same relentless pace.

"Back in your fucking ass," you say to Eunchae, at this point just toying with her teen holes. "Oh god, you're such a fucking tight slut," you say to her, clapping her cheeks and grabbing her hair. "OH DADDY, IT FEELS SO FUCKING GOOD, THANK YOU DADDY," she screams. "Open that fucking mouth," you reply, stretching it as you fuck her.

"Now taste your pussy and ass right there," you say, shoving your cock in her mouth one more time. "You want it back?" you soon ask. "Yes, I want it back in my holes, please," Eunchae answers. "Which hole do you want it?" you keep asking. "Anyone you want, daddy," she replies. "Give me an answer, bitch," you tell her. "I want you to keep fucking my ass," she says. "Say it again," you say. "I WANT YOU TO FUCK MY ASS, DADDY," she screams.

You give Eunchae's ass very heavy poundings. "Fuck yes, put that fucking ass up," you demand. "You like the way my asshole feels on your cock?" Eunchae asks. "Yes, it's so fucking tight, such a tasty little 18-year-old ass," you say as you spank her butt for the hundredth time.

"I want you to fucking cum like the slut you are," you tell Eunchae. "Yes sir, keep fucking my ass like that and I'll cum hard for you," she answers. "You better fucking cum on that cock or I'm gonna punish you," you say, picking up the speed. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, OH FUCK," Eunchae moans as her asshole keeps getting stretched out. "Keep going; that feels so fucking good, ahhhh, yeahhh, ohhhh, thank you, daddy," Eunchae moans as you can't stop fucking her ass.

You pull out of Eunchae's ass and pick back the vibrator. "You're gonna cum all over it, do you understand?" you demand as you shove it on her pussy. "Yes, daddy," she answers. You massage her clit hard with it. "Right there," Eunchae says. "May I please cum?" she asks. "CUM," you give her a positive answer, letting her leak a lot of juices all over the table she's tied up to.

You quickly take advantage of Eunchae's weakness and shove your cock in her cunt. "Yes, please, put your cock back in my pussy," she begs. "FUCK, DADDY, I WANNA CUM ALL OVER YOUR COCK, YES, YES, YES, USE MY PUSSY, USE ALL MY FUCKING HOLES, I'M CUMMING, I'M CUMMING," she screams. "Yes, perfect," you say as you spank her ass and Eunchae cums all over your cock. "Keep that ass up," you continue.

Eunchae takes the little time you give her to breathe, but soon you flip her body around and start spanking her pussy. "I want you to beg again for my cock," you tell her. "I need your cock, need it in my fucking pussy so bad," she says as you put the vibrator back in her pussy. "Keep begging," you tell her. "I want your cock," she says. "It feels so good," she continues as the vibrator massages her clit. "More, you can beg better than that," you say, increasing the speed of the vibrator. "Give me your cock; I need it in my pussy, please, please, please, please," she continues, but you still ignore her pleading.

Eunchae tries to stretch her hands and jerk your cock off as she keeps begging for your cock. "Say it every time I hit you," you tell her, whipping her body. "I want your cock, I want your cock, I want your cock," she repeats countless times. "That's better," you tell her. "Is that what you want?" you ask, shoving it in her pussy. "Yes, thank you, Daddy," she answers.

You fuck Eunchae as you put the vibrator in her clit alongside it. "YEAH, YEAH, YEAH, ALL OVER MY CLIT," she screams. "YOU LIKE THAT, YOU FUCKING SLUT?" you ask her as you spank her face. "Yes, daddy, it feels so fucking good. Thanks for fucking me, daddy. Thanks for using my holes," she replies.

You switch back to Eunchae's ass. "Oh fuck, nice and slow," she begs, already completely wasted as the vibrator makes her clit throb further and further. "Yeah, yeah, just like that," she begs. "I want you to cum in my fucking cock again," you say to her. "Please, daddy, may I please cum all over that cock?" she begs. You spank her face. "Right there, right in my clit, FUCK, I'M GONNA CUM," Eunchae says.

"CUM ALL OVER IT, BITCH," you say, picking up the speed as you fuck Eunchae's ass and grabbing her waist. "Oh yeah," you say as she squirts all over your cock. But you don't stop, getting addicted to her teen holes and quickly moving to her pussy again. "OH FUCK, THAT FEELS GOOD, DADDY," Eunchae moans. "Oh yeah, sure it does," you say to her. You now just toy with her holes, switching from pussy to ass from time to time while hitting her face and her tits, treating Eunchae like a fucktoy as you choke her. "Don't get loud, you bratty bitch," you say, rubbing her clit hard and spanking her whole body with that whip.

"Thank you, Daddy, for using me like that," Eunchae says. You fuck her pussy hard, enjoying your cock bulge under her young belly. Then you switch to her ass and choke her harder than ever. The switcheroo keeps going, Eunchae's whole body getting redder and redder, her rolling her eyes and struggling to breathe as you grab her neck with full force and rub her clit. "Please, daddy, rub my fucking little clit; you're gonna make me cum again," Eunchae moans as she gets completely overwhelmed by your moves in her cunt and her clit. "Fuck, just like that," she says.

"Is that what you fucking want?" you ask Eunchae. "Yes, daddy, but I want your cum too," Eunchae answers. "Then beg for my cum," you reply, spanking her face and keeping your fingers all over her clit, playing a lot with it. You spank her pussy and switch back to her ass, fucking it as hard as possible while you choke her. "I want you to make me cum with that fucking ass," you tell Eunchae as you pump it hard, her struggling hard as you have fucked her for nearly half an hour at this point. "You like that fat pussy too?" she asks as you pinch her clit while fucking her ass. "I like you shutting your fucking mouth, you bratty slut," you answer her.

Ass to pussy, pussy to ass, you keep switching, much to Eunchae's enjoyment. "Use my holes, Daddy; pick whatever you want," she begs as you fuck both of them really hard. Her face is now completely red from all the spanking and choking. "I want your cum," Eunchae begs. "Look at this bitch showing her true colors," you say.

"I want your cum all over my face," Eunchae begs as she gets choked and pounded. "Use my holes, use my fucking pussy, use them for your pleasure," she keeps begging. "Open your mouth wider; show me how much you want that cum," you command. But then Eunchae says the words that finally push you over the edge.

"I want you to cum all over my pretty little 18-year-old face," she says. As soon as you hear it, you pull your cock out of her cunt and ejaculate all over her face, covering her full of sperm like a good teen slut. Eunchae sticks her tongue out as she gets glazed, getting herself full of cum from her hair to her chin, kissing your cock as she thanks you for one final time. "Are you gonna start following the rules now?" you ask her. "Yes, daddy," she replies as you slap your cock in her face.

"You're free now," you say to Eunchae. "Thank you, Daddy," Eunchae says. But as soon as she is ready to get out of the dungeon, another girl arrives and catches both of you.

"Looks like she had a lot of fun," Chaewon says as she looks at Eunchae's face completely covered with your semen. "Sure she did," you tell her.

"Let me see how she tastes, hmmmm, delicious," Chaewon says, putting her mouth on your cock and tasting it as it's still full of your cum and Eunchae's juices. "You know, I think we should give her some extra training," she continues.

"Like what?" you ask.

"Let her learn some new positions and turn her into a proper slut," Chaewon says. "Are you ready, Manchae?" she asks her.

"Yes, unnie," Eunchae answers.

"Then sit your ass on his cock," Chaewon commands, and Eunchae obliges, following her unnie's instructions. "Lock her legs; let's see if this slut can take a full nelson," Chaewon instructs you.

"Oh fuck," Eunchae screams as soon as she's completely immobilized. "AHHH, AHHHH, AHHHH," she starts screaming as you resume pounding her ass under Chaewon's watch.

"Let me make this a little harder," Chaewon says, getting out of both your sights as she switches clothes while you keep fucking Eunchae, returning with a strap-on attached to her waist.

"Let's see if she can take this in her pussy too," the naughty unnie says.

"FUCKKKKKKKK," Eunchae screams, and her second round at the dungeon is just beginning.

#eunchae smut #le sserafim smut #kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #male reader smut

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if-you-fan-a-fire · 3 years ago

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"Chauffard retracé à Lauzon," Le Soleil. September 29, 1942. Page 9. ---- L'agent Wilf. Charland, de la Sûreté municipale, a retracé un conducteur d'automobile qui avait causé un accident. A la suite d'habiles recherches, l'enquêteur Wilfrid Charland du service municipal de la circulation a retracé le chauffard qui avait blessé M. Raoul Doddridge, 52, Père Arnaud. dans la soirée du 12 septembre, sur la rue St-Vallier, à St-Malo. Le prévenu a été traduit en cour du recorder, ce matin. Le chauffard est un individu du Nouveau Brunswick, qui travaille sur un chantier à Lauzon. Le prévenu fut retracé par les débris du camion qui furent trouvés sur place à la suite de l'accident. La police trouva des parties d'aile et de phare sur les lieux de l'accident et c'est ce qui permit à l'agent Charland de poursuivre ses recherches et de localiser le prévenu. Immédiatement après l'accident, le chauffeur du véhicule avait pris la fuite en direction du cimetière St-Charles et M. Doddridge avait été ramassé inconssient sur la chaussée.

Lors de sa comparution, ce matin, l'individu était accompagné de son procureur Me Mark Drouin, avocat. Me Georges Delisle, procureur de la cité, représentait la poursuite. Le prévenu a été condamné à $10. d'amende pour avoir conduit sans licence et à $50. d'amende pour ne pas avoir arrêté après l'accident.

#ville de québec #police search #hit and run #car crash #car crash victim #hitting a pedestrian #driver's license #canada during world war 2 #crime and punishment in canada #history of crime and punishment in canada #quebec city #lauzon

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aibidil · 4 months ago

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This is only relevant if you or someone you know lives in North Carolina:

A candidate for NC Supreme Court, Jefferson Griffin, lost by a small margin, confirmed by two recounts. He’s suing the Board of Elections, arguing that 60,273 early votes should be nullified. All of these early voters showed their ID and the votes are legal. (For some reason, these voters didn’t have their social security number or driver’s license number in their voter file. Neither the state Board of Elections nor state law says that this makes them ineligible.)

The names of the voters that are contested are publicly available, but most of the voters don’t know they’re on the list and that their vote is in danger of being nullified.

What to do? Visit this website:

Scroll down to the search tool. Search your name and the names of any family or friends who voted in North Carolina in November. (You can narrow it down by County.)

Keep scrolling until you get to the map. If you live in NC, zoom in on your neighborhood — you can’t see the names associated with dots on the map, but you can see if there are people in your neighborhood who should be alerted. If so, you can spread the word.

If you or a friend is on the list, there are instructions for what action to take (calling your local Board of Elections, emailing Jefferson Griffin to ask your name be removed from the list, etc.)

Share this website widely!

#north carolina #nc politics #us politics #signal boost #voting #voting rights #jefferson griffin #the griffin list #contested ballots

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cloudyluun · 4 months ago

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Press play (p2) | boyfriend!harry

Summary: The first tape wasn’t enough. Harry’s obsessed. One camera? Not enough angles. One location? Not enough variety. One night? Not enough time. This time, he films her in every room, in every position, with every toy he owns—and makes sure she begs for more. Because this isn’t just about recording anymore. This is about pushing her to her absolute limit while the cameras catch every second.

A/N: So… if the first fic was a little spicy, this one is hellfire levels of unholy. 🫠 Writing this felt like a crime, but a crime I would absolutely commit again. 🔥 Hope you’re hydrated and emotionally stable because this is a lot—and yes, before you ask, there will be a part tree. 😈

Also, if anyone asks why my search history includes “best high-sensitivity microphones for ASMR,” no, you don’t.

Word Count: 7,8k

Warnings:

Heavy BDSM elements – Bondage, impact play, restraints, gagging, plugs, edging, overstimulation… Basically, if it belongs in a locked drawer, it’s in here.

Spit, deep-throating, gagging, face-fucking – Hydration is important, folks.

Filming/recording during sex (consensual) – Harry’s got a passion for cinematography. Scorsese could never.

Public teasing & humiliation – Sex shop, car ride, open windows… Someone revoke this man’s driver’s license and curtain privileges.

Rough sex – Choking, spanking, forced orgasms… the usual scheduled programming.

Dirty talk, degradation, praise kink – A poetic balance of “good girl” and “filthy little slut.”

Multiple orgasms, overstimulation, breath play – Hope you weren’t planning on walking after this.

Aftercare – Because Harry’s only a menace 98% of the time. The other 2%? He’s feeding you water and telling you how proud he is.

(if i missed any, dm me please!)

[part 1]

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

You can feel his eyes on you again.

It’s been happening for days—catching him watching you, smirking like he knows something you don’t. He isn’t even subtle about it. He’ll stretch out on the couch, legs spread wide, fingers lazily tapping against his thigh as the screen flickers, bathing his face in dim light. He watches you on repeat. Watches the way you fell apart for him the first time. The way you begged, the way you shook. He knows every second by heart, every moan, every filthy plea.

And the worst part? You don’t even blame him.

Because the few times you’ve dared to look—just a peek—you were just as wrecked as he claimed. Eyes glassy, mouth parted, body trembling under his touch. A perfect mess. His.

So when you catch him again, he doesn’t look guilty. Not even a little.

“Can’t help it, angel.” His voice is rough, thick with something dark. “You look so fucking good coming apart for me.”

Heat licks up your spine, your thighs pressing together on instinct. But he notices. Of course he notices.

He cocks his head, dragging his gaze over you, slow and heavy. Then, as if deciding something, he stands and holds out his hand. “Come on.”

You blink. “What?”

“We’re going out.”

He doesn’t give you a choice.

The electronics store is bright, all sleek displays and humming screens. It smells faintly of new plastic, and if you weren’t so hyper-aware of the man next to you—the way his hand rests low on your back, the way his thumb strokes slow circles against your hip—you might have actually paid attention to the endless rows of cameras.

But Harry is focused.

Not just on you—though you can feel the weight of his gaze every time you shift—but on the equipment. He moves with purpose, eyes scanning through specs, occasionally nodding like he’s mentally checking things off a list you aren’t privy to.

You watch as he picks up a high-end camera, testing the weight in his palm.

“This one?” you ask.

“Maybe,” he murmurs, tilting it slightly, examining the lens. “Good quality, but not enough angles.”

The words shouldn’t make your stomach flip.

You know what he’s planning. Know this isn’t just about upgrading. It’s about more. More angles, more footage, more ways to capture exactly how wrecked he can make you.

Your breath catches as he moves onto something else—a small, discreet device.

“Is that—”

“A hidden camera?” He smirks. “Yeah. Could put it anywhere. Get a nice little collection going.”

You swallow hard.

He keeps going. A high-sensitivity microphone. A ring light. A sleek little tripod. He handles them with the kind of ease that makes your knees weak, like he’s already imagining exactly where he’ll set them up.

The sales clerk approaches then, offering a polite, professional smile.

“Can I help you with anything?”

You barely hear the question before Harry shifts behind you, his body pressing up against yours, his lips grazing your ear. His voice is low, for you and only you.

“Could fuck you right here.”

Your entire body goes rigid.

“Harry—”

“Bend you over the counter,” he continues, voice thick with amusement. His fingers ghost up your thigh, barely there, but your skin burns all the same. “Let the security cameras catch everything.”

Your breath stutters, a choked gasp slipping out before you can stop it.

The sales clerk clears his throat. “Uh… I can walk you through some of the settings if you’d like?”

You try to nod, try to play it off, but Harry doesn’t move. He stays pressed against you as the clerk launches into a dry explanation, and it takes everything in you to stand still. To keep your composure while Harry’s fingers tease the hem of your skirt, inching higher, higher—

You nearly jump when the touch disappears.

“Thanks, mate,” Harry says smoothly, stepping back like nothing just happened. “We’ll take all of these.”

Your head spins.

All of them.

Three cameras, a microphone, a ring light. Enough to film you in every angle he wants, from every perspective, with every sound recorded crystal clear.

You don’t even realize you’re shaking until Harry’s fingers brush over your wrist, grounding you.

“One more stop, angel.” His voice is warm, teasing.

Your stomach twists.

You already know where he’s taking you.

The sex shop is discreet, tucked between two high-end boutiques. The windows are dark, the sign subtle, but the moment you step inside, you feel the shift—the heavy hush, the intimate displays, the slow thrum of something low and pulsing over the speakers.

Harry walks in like he’s been here before. Like he owns the place.

And in a way, he does.

You can feel it in the way he moves, the way his fingers trail along the shelves, occasionally plucking something up, rolling it between his fingers, considering. You barely have time to register what he’s holding before he makes a quiet noise of approval and adds it to the growing collection in his arms.

Nipple clamps. A flogger. Silk restraints. A plug set.

Your face burns as he turns to you, offering one of the smaller plugs in his palm.

“Go to the bathroom.”

You freeze.

His eyes don’t waver.

“Put them in.” His voice is calm, steady. “Now.”

You hesitate for half a second—just long enough to see the flicker of warning cross his features.

And then you obey.

The moment the door shuts behind you, your hands shake as you follow his command. The plug is smooth, easy, but it’s the panties that make you squirm—just the thought of them in public, the knowledge that Harry could turn them on at any moment.

When you return, he’s waiting.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just watches. Then, after a long pause—long enough for you to start fidgeting under his stare—he steps closer, brushing his lips over your temple.

“Good girl.”

The praise makes your knees nearly buckle.

He smirks. “Let’s go.”

The drive home is torture.

You should have known it would be.

Because the second Harry starts the car, his fingers flick something on his phone, and suddenly—

“Oh,” you gasp, your back arching slightly.

The vibrations are low, teasing, barely enough to do anything but make you ache.

Harry hums, casual. “You’re already soaked, aren’t you?”

Your cheeks burn, but you nod, breathless.

He turns the setting up. Just a little. Just enough to make you squirm.

Red light.

The car slows.

His hand drifts over your thigh.

“You can hold it, can’t you?”

You bite your lip, nodding again, your thighs pressing together.

Green light.

The vibrations ease slightly, but the pattern shifts, unpredictable.

It continues like this—slow torture, relentless teasing, each stoplight an opportunity for him to push you closer and closer to the edge.

By the time you pull into the garage, you’re shaking. Your fingers dig into the seat, your breathing uneven.

Harry watches, amused.

Then, just as he parks, he leans in, his voice silk-smooth against your ear.

“Come.”

Your breath stutters.

“Now,” he murmurs. “And don’t make a sound.”

The vibrations increase, sudden and sharp, and it takes everything in you not to cry out. Your entire body trembles as the orgasm washes over you, your fingers clutching the seat, your lips parted in a silent whimper.

Harry watches it all.

When it finally fades, your body slumping back against the leather, he exhales, slow and satisfied.

“That’s one, angel.”

His fingers trace your thigh, teasing.

“Hope you didn’t think we were done.”

His voice is warm, teasing, dripping with amusement, but there’s something darker beneath it. Something that makes your stomach tighten and your breath stutter. That look in his eyes—the one that tells you he’s not even close to satisfied.

Your skin is still buzzing, oversensitive from what he did to you in the car, but he doesn’t care.

He’s already moving.

He steps out, rounding the car without urgency, and when he opens your door, he doesn’t say a word—just waits. Expecting.

You step out on shaky legs.

The air outside is thick and warm, but the heat that lingers between your thighs is worse. You can still feel the echoes of pleasure from the first orgasm he ripped out of you, still feel the way your body clenched around nothing when he left you empty.

He knows it, too.

He watches you carefully, fingers ghosting over your hip as he leads you inside, through the dimly lit hallway, past the living room where you’ve already let him ruin you so many times before.

The moment the bedroom door shuts behind you, the shift is immediate.

Harry rolls his shoulders, tilting his head slightly, studying you.

Assessing.

Your pulse spikes.

The room is different.

You notice it instantly—the small but deliberate changes.

The cameras.

One on a tripod at the foot of the bed. Another placed carefully on the nightstand, positioned just right. The third—mounted directly above the mattress. Overhead shots.

Your stomach twists.

Then your eyes catch on the microphone.

It’s clipped beside the camera on the nightstand, small but powerful, capable of picking up every gasp, every moan, every tiny, desperate sound you make for him.

Your thighs squeeze together.

And on the sheets?

Silk.

Black silk ties, draped neatly across the mattress. Waiting.

Your breath catches.

He planned this.

Your skin prickles as you turn back toward him, but he’s already watching you, already smirking like he can hear the way your thoughts are racing.

His hand lifts, his fingers brushing along your jaw.

“Strip.”

One word.

No room for hesitation.

A slow, creeping shiver spreads down your spine, and your hands move before you can even think.

You reach for the hem of your dress, slipping it over your head in one slow motion. The fabric pools at your feet, leaving you bare—except for the lace panties he forced you into earlier and the plug still nestled between your cheeks.

Harry’s gaze darkens.

His tongue drags along his bottom lip, and he exhales slow, controlled, fingers flexing at his sides.

“On the bed.”

You shudder.

It’s not just a command—it’s a promise.

Your heart pounds as you move toward the mattress, sinking onto the soft sheets. The moment you do, Harry follows, climbing onto the bed with deliberate slowness, his toned body flexing as he hovers over you.

The silk restraints are still lying there. Waiting.

He picks one up, twirling it lazily between his fingers before tilting his head, green eyes locking onto yours.

“Let me tie you up, angel.”

It’s not a question.

It’s a test.

You swallow hard, feeling the last shred of control slipping away, and nod.

But he doesn’t move.

His smirk deepens.

“Say it.”

Your breath stutters. The words feel thick in your throat, but when they finally come, they’re barely more than a whisper.

“Tie me up, Harry.”

Something flickers in his eyes. A slow, satisfied smirk tugs at his lips, and then—

He moves.

Swift. Effortless. Expert.

He grabs your wrist, looping the silk around it, securing it to the headboard with a practiced ease that makes your stomach tighten. Then the other wrist—soft but firm, tight but not painful. You test the restraints. No give.

Your breathing is already uneven.

He shifts down, grabbing your ankle next.

You jerk instinctively, but it’s useless.

Harry likes you like this—helpless beneath him, vulnerable, completely at his mercy.

By the time he secures your other ankle, your body is already trembling. Spread wide. Exposed. Completely at his mercy.

You test the restraints again.

You can’t move.

The realization sends a sharp, dizzying pulse of heat straight between your legs.

Harry notices.

He always does.

He hums, pleased, dragging his knuckles along your inner thigh. His touch is featherlight, teasing, barely even there.

And then—

He reaches into his pocket.

Your breath hitches.

The remote.

Your stomach drops.

The plug.

He clicks it on.

The vibration is instant.

Low at first—deep, pulsing, sending sharp, concentrated pleasure straight through your core. Right where you need it most.

A helpless whimper rips from your throat. Your hips jerk automatically, body arching against the restraints, but there’s nowhere to go, no way to escape the relentless stimulation.

Harry watches every second of it.

The way your thighs tremble, the way your lips part in desperate little gasps, the way your stomach tightens.

And then—

He turns on the camera.

You freeze.

The red light blinks.

Recording.

Your stomach clenches, heat flooding your skin, because this moment—your wrists tied, your legs spread, your body already writhing from the toy still pulsing inside you—is being captured.

For him.

Forever.

Harry tilts his head, smirking.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, dragging his fingertips along your trembling thigh. His voice is low, smooth, hypnotic. “So fucking pretty like this.”

You let out a broken whimper.

His hand slides higher, teasing along the waistband of your panties. Not touching you where you need it most.

Not yet.

He licks his lips, watching you squirm.

“Think you can come like this, angel?”

Your chest rises and falls rapidly. You don’t answer. You can’t.

But Harry doesn’t need one.

He just turns up the vibration.

And watches.

The vibrations deepened.

Your breath hitched—sharp, desperate, a ragged little sound that barely even made it past your lips. The plug was already relentless, pulsing deep inside you, the sensation twisting tight in your stomach, coiling lower with each slow, calculated increase of the setting.

You were already trembling. Already aching. Already so close.

And Harry hadn’t even touched you yet.

He watched you squirm, wrists and ankles straining against the silk restraints, body arching involuntarily.

Completely at his mercy.

Completely his.

“Fuck,” he exhaled, his voice slow, measured, but dripping with hunger. His knuckles skimmed along your inner thigh, grazing just close enough to where you needed him—but never quite there. Just teasing. Just watching.

And the camera?

Still rolling.

Still capturing every little gasp, every tremor, every desperate little attempt to chase the pleasure he was holding just out of reach.

The red light blinked.

Recording.

His smirk deepened.

“Such a pretty mess, angel.” His voice was low, approving, hypnotic.

You whimpered, hips twitching, but the restraints left you helpless—spread wide, open, exposed, your body reacting instinctively to the overstimulation.

But Harry?

Harry was calm.

Patient.

He sat back, admiring his work—admiring you—as if he had all the time in the world.

And then, finally—finally—

His fingers traced over your panties.

A sharp gasp tore from your lips, your entire body jolting at the sudden touch. Even through the soaked lace, the warmth of his fingertips sent electricity crackling through your veins.

Harry hummed, pleased.

“Fuck, you’re soaked.” His fingers pressed lightly, rubbing slow, teasing circles over the fabric. “Been like this all day, haven’t you?”

You nodded frantically, swallowing back a sob. “Y-Yes.”

He chuckled, dark and satisfied, rubbing just a little harder.

“Good girl.”

Your thighs quivered, muscles tensing, your wrists tugging at the restraints again. Every little movement sent shockwaves of pleasure ricocheting through your body.

And then—

He ripped your panties.

A sharp tear, the lace splitting effortlessly beneath his fingers. The fabric vanished in an instant, and suddenly, there was nothing between you and him.

Nothing stopping him from touching you—truly touching you.

And he did.

Slow. Gentle at first. Just his fingertips, gliding over your drenched folds, exploring.

Spreading you open.

His thumb circled your clit, barely any pressure at all—but after everything? After the teasing, the buildup, the vibrations inside you?

It was too much.

A strangled, helpless sob ripped from your throat, your back arching clean off the mattress.

Harry’s breath caught.

He groaned—actually groaned—watching you break for him.

“Fuck. That sensitive, angel?” His tone was teasing, but there was something else there. Something hungry.

He dragged his fingers through your slick, slow, deliberate.

“Bet you could come just from this.” His voice was silk and sin, completely entranced by the way your body shuddered, twitched, begged.

Your head jerked frantically, desperate, pleading, already teetering on the edge.

“P-Please—”

But before you could even finish the sentence—

He slid two fingers inside you.

Your vision blurred.

The stretch—the depth—the angle—all of it was perfect.

The moment he curled his fingers, you screamed.

The sound punched out of your lungs, raw and wrecked, as he pressed against that perfect, devastating spot.

Harry cursed under his breath, watching every second of it.

The way your body clenched around his fingers, the way you writhed against the restraints, the way your chest heaved, nipples peaked and sensitive beneath the cool air—

Every. Little. Detail.

Captured.

The red light blinking.

Recording.

He moved faster, fingers stroking deep, precise, thumb circling your clit in tight, merciless patterns.

“Come for me,” he growled.

It wasn’t a request.

It was a command.

And you had no choice.

The pleasure slammed into you like a tidal wave, tearing through every nerve ending in your body. You came with a sob, a scream, a desperate, shattered cry, your body convulsing, legs shaking, clenching so hard around his fingers it was almost unbearable.

But he didn’t stop.

He kept fucking you through it, fingers relentless, dragging out every last tremor, milking every last drop of pleasure until you were shaking, sobbing, gasping for air.

And only then—

Only then—

Did he finally slow.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your wrists trembling against the silk. Your whole body felt like static—shattered, floating, buzzing.

And Harry?

Harry was grinning.

He kissed your knee, slow and lazy, as he finally pulled his fingers out of you.

“Such a good girl.”

Your lashes fluttered, vision still hazy, but you could barely even register his words. Your body was spent, ruined, completely undone.

But Harry wasn’t finished.

Because then—

He licked his fingers.

Your stomach plummeted.

He hummed low in his throat, savoring, before grinning.

And then—

He reached for the camera.

Still rolling.

Still capturing everything.

And he smirked.

“Hope you didn’t think we were done.”

Your pulse was still pounding in your ears.

Your body was wrecked, trembling, every nerve ending overstimulated and raw from the orgasm that had just torn through you.

And yet—

Harry still wasn’t done.

He loomed over you, tall, broad, completely in control, the red recording light casting a soft glow over the sharp lines of his jaw. His eyes devoured you, taking in every little detail—

The way your chest heaved. The way your thighs still trembled against the sheets. The way your wrists flexed instinctively against the silk, as if you could stop him.

You couldn’t.

And you didn’t want to.

The bed dipped as he climbed over you, the heat of his bare skin searing against yours.

His cock—hard, leaking, thick and aching—dragged against your swollen folds, notching at your entrance, but not pushing in.

Not yet.

You whimpered, body arching instinctively, desperate for him, but he just chuckled—low, deep, indulgent.

“Mm. Look at you.” His voice was warm honey, slow and deliberate, each word sinking deep into your bones. “So pretty when you beg, angel.”

You bit your lip, hips shifting, trying to chase him.

He smirked.

And then—

The first inch.

You gasped, eyes flying open, head tilting back against the pillows.

He was thick, stretching you open so slowly that it almost burned.

But Harry didn’t give you time to adjust.

Didn’t give you time to think.

Because then—

Another inch.

And another.

Until he was halfway inside you, filling you, the intrusion both devastating and perfect.

Your nails dug into your palms, your body trying to take more—needing more.

And then, Harry reached for the camera.

Still recording.

He angled it down, making sure to capture the way your body was taking him, stretching around him.

His cock twitched.

And then, his voice—low, thick, wrecked:

“Fuck, angel. Look at this.”

You tried to, tried to open your eyes, tried to focus, but then—

He pushed all the way in.

The breath punched out of your lungs.

A sharp, desperate gasp—loud, needy, broken—tore from your throat as he bottomed out, pressing so deep you could feel him everywhere.

Your body clenched around him, still too sensitive, still feeling everything from before.

But Harry just groaned, deep and guttural, hips rolling in the slowest, most devastating grind.

Your toes curled, pleasure sparking white-hot under your skin.

You were still tied up. Still helpless. Still completely his.

And now, you were full.

So full you could barely breathe.

Harry pulled out—slow, deliberate—before thrusting back in just as slow, pushing you open all over again.

“Fuck,” he exhaled, watching you, watching the camera, watching everything.

Your body twitched, squirmed, begged.

He just smirked.

And then—

He set the pace.

Deep, slow strokes, hitting every spot just right, dragging against the oversensitive nerves he’d already ruined.

Your mouth fell open, pleasure crashing over you with every slow thrust.

Every inch of him pressing deep, stretching you so perfectly it hurt.

The camera blinked.

Recording.

Capturing the way your body was shuddering, the way your fists clenched the silk, the way your lips trembled around the moans he was pulling from you.

He leaned down, breath hot against your ear.

“Gonna give me another one, angel?” His voice was taunting, dripping with amusement. “Think you can come for me again?”

You shook your head wildly, chest heaving, eyes glazed over.

“I— I can’t—”

Harry just hummed, lips brushing your temple.

“Yes, you can.”

And then—

He fucked you deeper.

Your back arched instantly, wrists straining, a sob ripping through your throat.

The pleasure was blinding, white-hot, unbearable.

“Harry—”

His teeth scraped against your jaw, his voice gravel and smoke.

“Say it.”

Your breath hitched, nails digging into your palms, body trembling from the sheer force of it.

“Y-Yours,” you gasped.

His hips snapped harder, cock grinding against that devastating spot over and over—relentless, unforgiving.

“Again.”

A strangled sob.

“Yours—fuck—I’m yours.”

His groan was low, wrecked, dangerous.

“Good girl.”

And then—

His hand dropped to your clit.

Your vision blurred.

A sharp, overwhelming cry ripped from your chest, your body jerking violently, pleasure spiraling out of control.

You were gonna come. You were gonna fall apart for him again. You couldn’t stop it.

Harry knew it.

He wanted it.

He fucking needed it.

His fingers worked your clit in tight, ruthless circles, hips grinding deep, pushing you further, further, further—

And then he stopped.

Your body shuddered violently, the cruel absence of release ripping through you in an aching pulse. Your wrists strained against the restraints, fingers curling into fists as if grasping at the pleasure he had just stolen from you.

“No—Harry, please—” Your voice was wrecked, trembling, broken.

He only chuckled, slow and dark, as he withdrew from you completely, leaving you empty and throbbing.

“You were about to come, weren’t you?” he murmured, running a single finger up the slick seam of your cunt.

Your thighs twitched, trying to chase the friction, but the spreader bar kept you locked open, helpless. A desperate whimper crawled up your throat.

“Y-yes, I was—”

Harry tsked, tracing idle circles around your entrance, not giving you what you needed. “Shouldn’t have done that, angel. Didn’t I tell you? You come when I say.”

Tears of frustration burned behind your blindfold. “I c-can’t take anymore—”

A sharp slap landed between your legs, a quick sting against your soaked, sensitive cunt. You gasped, jerking at the impact.

“Oh, you can take more,” Harry said smoothly, rubbing the heated skin where he had just spanked you. “And you will.”

Your whole body quivered as he slid his fingers down, pressing them against the plug still nestled inside you. A strangled sound escaped your lips when he pushed it deeper, rocking it in place.

“Wanna stretch you out properly, baby,” he mused, voice thick with something dangerous. “But first—”

You heard the rustling of fabric, the creak of leather as he stood from the bed.

“Up.”

You barely had the strength to move, but you forced yourself to obey, arms shaking as you struggled against the restraints. The blindfold remained in place, leaving you vulnerable as you listened to him unbuckle something, the unmistakable sound of a belt sliding free from its loops.

Then—his hands were on you again, untying your wrists, removing the spreader bar. Your legs instantly trembled, weak from the overwhelming denial.

“Good girl,” Harry murmured, massaging the sore skin where the restraints had been. “Now, come with me.”

He grasped your chin, tilting your face up as he pulled the blindfold away. Your eyes blinked open, pupils blown wide as you took in the wicked smirk on his lips, the lust-darkened green of his gaze.

Before you could catch your breath, he scooped you into his arms. You barely had time to register the movement before he was carrying you out of the bedroom, past the cameras still recording every second.

The bathroom door swung open. Steam clung to the air as he stepped inside, turning the shower knob until hot water cascaded down, filling the room with a thick, humid heat.

Your back hit the cold tile a second later. You barely had time to react before he pressed his palm against your sternum, urging you down, down, down until your knees met the wet floor.

He grabbed the camera from the counter, flipping the screen toward him. The red recording light glowed as he aimed the lens at you, already kneeling and dripping with arousal.

“Open your mouth,” he ordered, his voice a slow drag of filth.

Your breath hitched.

You obeyed.

The second your lips parted, Harry’s smirk deepened. He took his time, letting the camera capture every little detail—the way your tongue flicked out, the way your breath came in short, desperate little pants, the way your lips glistened from the mix of your own arousal and the steam filling the room.

“Fuck, angel,” he murmured, palming his cock, stroking himself right in front of you. “You look so pretty like this.”

He tilted the camera slightly, making sure it caught the way you were already trembling, still wrecked from everything he’d put you through in the bedroom. He hadn’t even touched you yet, but your body was still in pieces, still aching, still on the brink.

He tapped the head of his cock against your bottom lip. “Go on. Take it.”

You leaned forward instantly, eager, desperate to please, desperate to have some part of him back inside you. Your tongue darted out, licking the swollen tip before wrapping your lips around it.

The deep groan he let out sent a shiver straight down your spine.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he praised, one hand still holding the camera, the other coming to the back of your head. “Messy, baby. I want to see spit dripping all over that pretty face.”

You hollowed your cheeks, sucking him in deeper, bobbing your head as your hands found purchase on his thighs. The hot water pounded against your skin, the steam thick, making the whole room feel like a fever dream.

The camera shifted in his grip, the angle catching the way your lips stretched wide around him, the way your throat fluttered as he pushed deeper.

“Shit—” He exhaled sharply, fingers tightening in your hair. “Keep going, angel. Take it all.”

You did. You let him guide you, let him control the pace, let him push further and further until the tip of his cock nudged against the back of your throat. You gagged around him, eyes watering, but you didn’t stop.

Harry groaned, low and wrecked. “Fuck, you’re so good for me.”

He pulled back, just enough to let you breathe, before pushing in again—this time rougher, faster, with more force. You moaned around him, the vibrations making his hips jerk forward. Spit dribbled down your chin, mixing with the hot water that streamed over your face, but you didn’t care.

“That’s it, baby. Get it all wet for me.”

He adjusted the camera again, angling it downward, capturing the way your lips were red and swollen, the way his cock disappeared between them over and over again. He licked his lips, voice dropping to something even darker.

“Gonna fuck your throat now, angel. You ready for that?”

You could barely nod, but you did, blinking up at him with big, watery eyes.

Harry growled.

“Good girl.”

Then he snapped his hips forward, holding your head in place as he started fucking your mouth.

The force made your throat tighten, made your gag reflex threaten to fight back, but you took it. His cock dragged against the back of your tongue, thick and heavy, every thrust sending you further into the haze of pleasure and submission.

Tears spilled down your cheeks. Drool dripped from the corners of your mouth. Your nails dug into his thighs as he used you, each thrust more relentless than the last.

“Fuck—look at you.” His voice was wrecked, barely holding on. “Gonna come down your throat, angel. Gonna fill you up nice and fucking full.”

You moaned, the sound muffled around him, but he understood.

“Yeah? You want that?”

You nodded desperately, tears spilling freely now.

Harry cursed, deep and rough, before pulling out just enough to let you breathe—then pushing in one last time, shoving himself as deep as you could take.

With a low, guttural groan, he came, hot and thick down your throat.

“Don’t swallow,” he panted, pulling back just enough to see the mess he’d left on your tongue. He angled the camera, zooming in on your wrecked, ruined expression.

“Show the camera, baby.”

You opened your mouth wider, letting him see everything—the cum pooling on your tongue, the spit clinging to your lips, the way you were completely, utterly wrecked for him.

Harry groaned. “Fuck.”

He smirked down at you, lowering the camera slightly, his thumb tracing the edge of your mouth.

“Now swallow.”

You did.

His gaze darkened even more.

“Good girl.”

The moment your lips closed around the last drop, Harry grabbed your chin, tilting your face up toward him. His thumb swiped over the corner of your mouth, catching the mix of spit and cum before pressing it back against your tongue.

“Still so fucking messy, angel,” he murmured, his voice rough, raw. “I should make you lick it off my fingers.”

Your tongue flicked out before he could even tell you to, taking his thumb into your mouth and sucking obediently. Harry groaned, his free hand fisting in your damp hair as he tilted the camera, capturing the way you looked up at him—wrecked, desperate, willing.

He pulled his thumb from your mouth with a pop, gripping your jaw tight before hauling you to your feet.

“Not done with you yet,” he muttered, voice dripping with something dangerous. “C’mon.”

He dragged you out of the bathroom, still naked, your legs barely steady after everything he’d put you through. The cameras in the bedroom were still recording, red lights blinking as he led you straight through and into the living room.

The moment your bare feet hit the cool hardwood floor, your stomach flipped.

The windows.

The massive, floor-to-ceiling windows, wide open, stretching across the entire room.

Anyone could see.

Your breath caught as Harry maneuvered you toward the couch, his grip firm, unyielding. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t even give you a moment to protest before pushing you down, bending you over the armrest, pressing your chest into the soft fabric.

“Stay.”

A shiver rolled through you.

You didn’t dare move.

Behind you, you heard him shifting, placing the camera down, adjusting it for the best angle. Then—his hands. Rough and warm as they skimmed over your hips, down the backs of your thighs. His palms kneaded your ass before spreading you open, exposing every inch of you to both him and the camera.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Look at you.”

Heat flooded your body. You squirmed under his touch, your thighs already sticky, already aching.

He didn’t like that.

His palm cracked against your ass, sharp and sudden.

You gasped, jolting forward.

“Be still,” he ordered. “Wanna make sure the camera gets a good look.”

You bit your lip, your body thrumming with anticipation as his fingers slid between your legs, teasing, testing. You were still soaked—already wrecked from the way he’d used you in the bedroom, the bathroom, every fucking room he wanted.

And yet, you still wanted more.

He chuckled darkly.

“So fucking needy,” he murmured, rubbing slow circles against your clit before pulling away.

You whined softly.

“Patience, angel,” he said, his tone taunting.

He reached for something—a bottle of lube, cold as he drizzled it between your cheeks. His fingers smoothed it over your skin, teasing your hole, making you twitch beneath him.

“One day,” he murmured, leaning in, voice just for you. “One day, baby, I’m gonna fuck you here too. Gonna stretch you out nice and slow.”

You whimpered, fingers curling into the couch.

“But not tonight.”

Instead, he pushed inside your pussy in one hard, punishing thrust.

You cried out, your body arching at the overwhelming sensation. He was still thick, still hard, still relentless. Your walls clenched around him instinctively, but he didn’t give you a second to adjust—his hands gripped your hips, holding you still as he set a brutal pace.

The wet sounds of skin against skin filled the room, mixing with your gasps, your whimpers, the deep groans spilling from his lips.

The camera was still recording.

Harry reached for it, lifting it with one hand, angling it down to catch everything—the way he filled you, the way you took him so fucking well, the way your body trembled beneath him.

He smirked, never slowing down.

“Wave, baby,” he said, voice dripping with amusement. “Let them see how good you take it.”

Your stomach twisted at his words, a sharp spike of humiliation cutting through the pleasure. You could feel the heat of the camera on you, the weight of his stare, the way he watched you through the lens, utterly transfixed.

Your fingers gripped the couch tighter, your body burning with the mix of overstimulation and the sheer, undeniable thrill of it all.

“Go on,” he murmured, his voice a dangerous purr. “Be good for me.”

Shame curled in your chest, but the need to obey—to give him exactly what he wanted—was so much stronger.

You lifted one trembling hand from the couch and waved.

Harry groaned. “Fuck, look at you.”

He rewarded you with a brutal thrust, his cock slamming so deep it knocked the breath from your lungs. Your arm dropped, a broken sound slipping from your lips as he kept going, his grip tightening on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin.

The angle was devastating—his cock hitting deep, rubbing against every sensitive spot inside you, his pace merciless. The obscene sound of your slick filled the space, your body taking everything he gave without resistance, already so fucking ruined for him.

The camera was still rolling.

He moved it slightly, shifting to get a better angle, then pressed it close to where your bodies met, capturing the way he disappeared inside you over and over again.

“See that, angel?” he taunted. “See how fucking good you take me?”

You couldn’t even form words, your forehead pressing into the couch, your entire body trembling.

He leaned down, his chest flush against your back, the camera still in his hand. His breath was hot against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“You were made for this,” he whispered. “Made for me.”

Your walls clenched at the words, your body betraying you completely.

Harry groaned, his hips stuttering for just a second before he caught himself, before he pulled back and gave you a particularly sharp thrust—one that had you gasping, your hands gripping the couch for dear life.

His free hand snaked between your legs, finding your clit, rubbing it in slow, deliberate circles.

Your whole body tensed, the pressure inside you coiling tighter, tighter, so close to snapping—

And then he stopped.

You sobbed, your body shaking, your walls fluttering helplessly around nothing as he pulled out of you completely.

You felt him shift behind you, setting the camera back down, letting it capture the way your body trembled, the way your thighs clenched, desperate for more.

Then his hands were on you again, flipping you over, pressing your back against the couch cushions. His weight caged you in, his gaze dark, predatory.

“Not done with you yet, angel,” he murmured, dragging his thumb across your swollen lips, watching the way you panted beneath him.

The camera was still rolling.

His hand slipped between your legs again, teasing your slick entrance, rubbing the head of his cock against your overstimulated clit just to watch you squirm.

“You want more?” he asked, voice rough, teasing.

You nodded frantically, too wrecked to form words.

He smirked.

“Then get on the counter.”

Your legs barely worked as you scrambled up, body still trembling, overstimulated and desperate as you obeyed his command. The moment your feet hit the floor, Harry grabbed you by the waist, guiding you toward the kitchen with effortless control.

The counter was cold against your burning skin as he lifted you onto it, positioning you exactly where he wanted. Your thighs fell open instinctively, the evidence of everything he’d done to you glistening between them, your body still slick, still aching.

Harry groaned at the sight.

“Fuck, angel. Look at you.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before he reached down, grabbing something from the bag on the counter. Your stomach flipped as he held it up.

The large plug.

Your breath hitched, anticipation and overstimulation clashing in a way that made you shiver.

“Color?” he murmured, his voice softer now, more serious.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to breathe past the haze of it all. “Green.”

A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face before he smirked, trailing his fingers up the inside of your thigh, teasing.

“That’s my girl.”

He kissed you then—hot and deep, his tongue sliding against yours, stealing the air from your lungs. His free hand worked between your legs, rubbing slow, lazy circles against your clit, making you whimper against his lips.

Then, without warning, he pressed the plug against your entrance, pushing it in.

Your whole body tensed, a broken gasp spilling from your lips as the stretch burned for just a second—before the pleasure hit. The fullness, the pressure, the way it made everything more intense.

Harry pulled back, watching your face, drinking in every reaction.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured. “Taking it so fucking well.”

The praise sent another shiver down your spine. You clenched around the plug instinctively, and Harry groaned at the sight, gripping your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“You feel it, don’t you?” he taunted. “How much better it makes everything?”

You nodded weakly, barely able to breathe.

But he wasn’t done.

Reaching down, he clicked a button—and vibrations pulsed deep inside you.

A strangled moan tore from your throat, your body jolting against the counter as the sudden stimulation hit all at once.

Harry just chuckled, watching you squirm.

“Look at you,” he murmured. “Already falling apart for me.”

He didn’t give you time to adjust, to catch your breath—his hands were already on you again, pushing your legs wider, lining himself up.

“Just one more, angel,” he whispered. “Just one more.”

Then he thrust inside you.

You choked on a gasp, your hands flying to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as the sensations overwhelmed you. The vibrations, the stretch, the way his cock filled you so perfectly—

It was too much.

And yet, not enough.

Harry grunted, his grip on your hips bruising as he set a punishing pace, fucking into you deep, fast, relentless. His free hand shot up to your throat, his fingers curling around the column of your neck, squeezing just enough to make your pulse race.

Your vision blurred at the edges, your body trembling beneath him.

“S’this how you wanted it?” he growled. “Getting fucked so hard you can’t even think?”

Tears streamed down your face, your body wracked with pleasure, every nerve alight, every inch of you burning with overstimulation.

Harry groaned at the sight, leaning down to capture your lips in a messy, desperate kiss. His pace never faltered, his thrusts deep and brutal, fucking you through it, dragging it out.

Your walls clenched around him, the vibrations pushing you closer, closer—

And then you shattered.

Your entire body convulsed, pleasure slamming into you like a freight train, the orgasm ripping through you so violently you nearly sobbed. Your nails raked down his back, your thighs squeezing tight around his hips as he fucked you through it, chasing his own release.

Harry cursed under his breath, his movements growing erratic, rougher. He pulled out at the last second, groaning as he spilled across your stomach, his chest heaving, his body tense.

For a moment, the only sound in the kitchen was your ragged breathing.

Then, slowly, Harry reached for the camera—lifting it, angling it down, capturing the absolute wreckage of you.

“Fuck,” he murmured, tracing a hand down your trembling thigh. “You look so pretty like this.”

The camera clicked off.

And then, he lifted you into his arms, carrying you straight back to bed.

The sheets were cool against your overheated skin as Harry laid you down, his grip still firm but gentle. Your body felt weightless, trembling, drained from everything he had put you through—but he wasn’t finished.

Not yet.

He reached for a towel, wiping the mess from your stomach, his touch softer now, deliberate, taking his time as he cleaned you up. You shivered under his hands, your body still sensitive, overstimulated beyond belief.

Harry hummed, low and satisfied. “You did so fucking good for me, angel.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as he brushed damp hair from your face, pressing a kiss to your forehead. The shift in him was stark, a complete contrast from the dominant force he had been just minutes ago. Now, he was patient. Tender.

He grabbed a water bottle from the nightstand, twisting the cap off before bringing it to your lips. “Drink.”

You obeyed, swallowing the cool liquid, letting it soothe your raw throat. Harry watched you carefully, thumb stroking over your jaw.

“There you go,” he murmured. “That’s my good girl.”

Your heart squeezed at the praise, warmth curling in your chest. Even now, with your limbs weak and body wrecked, you craved it.

Harry must have seen it on your face, because he smirked, setting the bottle aside before slipping into bed beside you. His arm curled around your waist, pulling you in, pressing you flush against him.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, running his palm up and down your back, soothing, grounding.

You sighed into the touch, relaxing against him, sinking into his warmth.

His lips ghosted along your shoulder, pressing soft kisses up your neck, along your jaw. He traced every mark he had left on you, his tongue flicking out to soothe the sensitive skin.

A deep, contented sound rumbled from his chest as he held you close, his fingers lazily tracing patterns along your hip. “Proud of you, angel. Took everything so well for me.”

A sleepy hum slipped past your lips. You barely had the energy to respond, too far gone, your body melting into his.

Harry chuckled, the sound low and raspy.

Then, you felt it—his fingers reaching for the remote, grabbing it from the nightstand.

A moment later, the TV flickered to life.

Your stomach flipped.

You didn’t need to look to know what he was playing.

Heat crept up your neck as the sounds of your own moans filled the room, the unmistakable echo of skin on skin, the filthy words he had murmured against your lips now playing back in crisp, high-definition audio.

Your breath hitched.

Harry smirked, tilting your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark, hungry, still burning despite everything.

“Look at you,” he murmured, watching the replay, his hand trailing down, fingertips ghosting over your still-sensitive core. “So fucking wrecked. So perfect.”

Your cheeks burned, embarrassment and arousal clashing, twisting deep in your stomach.

Harry chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We’re keeping all of this,” he whispered against your skin. “Our own little collection.”

You barely had the strength to respond, your body too heavy, your brain too foggy.

But just before sleep claimed you, you heard him murmur one last thing—

“Hope you know… there’s going to be a part three.”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like ❤️‍🔥

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#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut

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enhard · 1 year ago

Text

sim jaeyun — “you’re in safe hands”

pairing: s.jy x fem!reader

not proofread, enjoy! (MINORS DNI)

: you can’t handle looking at your boyfriend’s nice and veiny hands without doing anything about it.

cw: SMUT SMUT ALLLL SMUT, everything is consensual, hand kink (obviously), a bit of size kink, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, riding, jake calls you princess most of the time, playing with your tits, slight choking, mentions of sending nudes??, lots of whimpers from him, jake slaps your mouth, established relationship, jake has a drivers license woahwoahwoah

—————————-⋆｡°✩ ✮⋆˙—————————

you faintly hear the ringtone of your phone through the buzzing in your ear. you slowly open your eyes, let out a sigh and immediately grab your phone to stop that annoying sound.. until you look at the now lit up screen of your phone, that your boyfriend jake is calling you.

you quickly sit up in shock, trying to clear your throat and answering the call, remembering that you were supposed to go on a date today.

“mm..yes my love? how are.. you?” you say, trying your best not to yawn in the middle of your sentence.

you can hear jake laughing at you through the other line. “princess, you’re still sleeping at this hour? i’m sorry for waking you up but.. it’s 4 pm already.” wait.. what?? 4 pm?? you were supposed to meet up 3 hours ago. how is it possible that you slept this long?

“don’t worry.. sunoo told me that he tried calling you since morning and you never answered, so i just let you sleep. instead of lunch.. could we go out to dinner now..?”

“ugh..fuck.. i’m sorry. i didn’t realise i slept that long.. is it okay in 3 hours..? i need to shower..” you reply as you’re massaging your head from the massive headache you got.

“of course love. i’ll come pick you up.. although.. does this mean i get no shower sneak peek??” he chuckles, and you just roll your eyes at his words.

“hold your horses now.. you might get to see me another time.” you smile.

there’s a few awkward seconds of silence, then he decides to hang up so you can get ready.

truth is.. you slept this long because of the hangover you’re having after a longgg night partying with your best friend sunoo. main reason why your headache is also present. —

you hop in the shower, actually debating to send jake a little picture or a video but.. you decide to be a bit of a tease. you just finish your shower and start getting ready.

you get dolled up all for him, putting on a nice laced dress and your favourite ysl lipgloss, that jake bought for you as a present not long ago. you get your phone and keys, locking your huge metal gate. your phone makes a few clicking sounds while you search for jake’s number to call him.

“baby, i’m right in front of my house. i’ll be waiting for you.”

“okay princess, i’m almost there. i can’t wait to see you”

you smile at your phone as you hang up, already seeing the blinding lights of his black suv, stopping right next to you. he gets out the car to check you out for atleast 5 minutes, offering you a kiss and then opening the car door like a true gentleman. you get in the car, the seats all warmed up. “good.” you say in your mind. it’s mildly snowing out, you needed this.

jake sits back in the driver’s seat, getting ready to leave. you turn to look at him while he’s focused on the road and you can’t help but admire him. you would lie if you said that he’s not the hottest man you’ve ever laid your eyes upon. with his slick back black hair, a nice black suit hugging his waist while also complementing his eyes.

your eyes suddenly slip to his arms, more specifically his hands. they’re resting on the top of the steering wheel, his fingers so long and pretty, multiple veins following from his forearm up to the back of his hand. that scenery alone made you squeeze your thighs together, knowing you couldn’t act on it here..

there is only one thing you thought about on that silent car ride, his long fingers inside you. you needed that more than anything. right now. instead, you try to look the other way, your body as stiff as a rock.

jake looks at you for a split second wondering why you’re moving around in your seat so much. he smiles, reaching out one hand to place on your inner left thigh. “what’s wrong love? are you uncomfortable?”

you thought you would let out a moan right there, right as he placed his hand on your inner thigh. you quickly shake your head left and right trying to diffuse the situation. you accidentally look downwards at your lap, and see that same hand, now grasping the soft skin of your thigh, one vein getting more prominent with each squeeze.

you continue through this hell for a few more minutes until you arrive, exhaling when he gets his hand off you.

. . . you get to your table, through the reservation that jake made previously. the place is pretty packed for a high end restaurant like this one. you’re both making small talk, asking how your day was and.. what plans you have for tonight.. he’s flipping through the menu and all you can stare at are those hands. you begin to breathe more rapidly, getting impatient.

“who cares about food right now? all i want are those fingers in my mouth” you think, trying not to slap yourself from the realisation of what you just almost said out loud.

still, you finish eating, he pays with his black card of course. even though you keep insisting that you want to pitch in. he loves spoiling you every time and all you can give him in return are kisses or.. something more.

after another few excruciating minutes in that car, you arrive back at your home. jake sits down on the couch, manspreading while you take your shoes off.

“thank you my love.. the dinner was amazing. what can i do to repay you?” he plasters on a confused look on his face, almost replying with “you don’t have to repay me” but.. seeing how beautiful you were for him.. how you looked and how you got ready all for him.. made him needy. in a blink of an eye. he knew he was lucky dating you, and the thought that you were all his made him so excited.

“hmm.. there might be something you can do for me princess. you think i’m stupid? i saw how you were drooling over my hands. you really love them huh?”

you get a bit embarrassed, but you’re way too horny to deny anything right now. “yeah.. i really do… i need them. please.” you say already biting your bottom lip.

you can see him slowly form a grin on his face, not saying a word. he pats his thigh two times, to show you the seat you’ll have for the rest of the night.

you eagerly walk up to him and take off your coat to take your seat on his lap. he pulls you into a kiss that turns into a make out session. he travels his hands down to your waist, and you move yours to hold onto his shoulders. you don’t pull away from his lips for a long time, the taste keeping you addicted.

he makes you pull away at one point, smiling at you. he takes his own coat off, having only a white satin shirt underneath. two buttons of the shirt are already undone, showing his chest real well.. with a nod from him as agreement, you begin unbuttoning his shirt, in a few seconds leaving him shirtless. you saw those abs and muscles countless times yet.. it still makes your body have a reaction you can’t explain.

he softly tugs on your dress while whining and pouting. you laugh at his pouty face, finding him so adorable yet so demanding. “go ahead”, quiet words leave your mouth while looking into his eyes.

he does not hesitate. he takes off that dress almost ripping it off out of excitement, leaving you in your underwear. he uses his middle and ring finger to open your mouth, shoving them in and wetting them with your saliva. you suck on his fingers a bit, getting to be a bit of a show-off.

he pulls his fingers out of your mouth, taking off your panties now. he immediately starts rubbing your clit first, flicking it a bit and getting it all wet.. then he moves down to your folds, moving his fingers back and forth. you grab onto one of his shoulders for support, digging your nails in it.

“l..love please.. put them in..”

he does exactly as he’s told. he shoves both fingers inside you, slowly pumping them in and out.. you’re rapidly losing your mind, this is everything you wished for. you grab onto his wrist with your other hand, trying to make him keep going but.. to no avail.

he stops, giving you a signal to ride his fingers instead. you get into position, trying your best to move your hips back and forth. you moaned feeling his fingers in you, not being able to resist anymore already. when he curls his fingers up inside you, he was almost convinced you were about to cum.

you ride his fingers as well as you can, trying to get on his good side. he’s not quite satisfied with your pace, so he gives you a slap over the mouth. “ride them faster princess, what’s up? tired already?” you’re fucked up as is, his words are making this WAY harder for you. the moans are getting more and more consistent, figuring that you’re going to cum soon.

“okay slut, slow down now. i don’t want you to get too tired. i’ll make you bounce on my cock just like this if you’re a good girl for me.” but… you don’t slow down. with how much energy you have left, you keep going. “ahh..i need to cum..first..plea..” he cuts you off, his tone getting more irritated.

“oh? you wanna cum? let me help you cum then whore.” he grabs onto your neck, choking you ever so slightly while fucking you with his fingers. he’s moving his hand as fast as he can trying to make you cum. you moan uncontrollably at this point, getting so close to your release and not being able to talk properly from the choking.

you do end up cumming all over his veiny fingers and pants. the grasp on your neck loosens, leaving a red mark around it.

“mmm.. since i stretched you out so well with my fingers.. how about we put that to good use?” he smiles, that smile being far away from innocent. you know exactly what he wants and you’re willing to give him that.

you catch up your breath, grabbing onto his shoulders again. “let me ride you then.” you reply, trying to be as nonchalant as you can.

you move your hands down to his pants, slowly slipping them off him. the bulge in his boxers is huge, obviously you already knew that but the thought didn’t comfort you. he’s usually hard to take in, now imagine being all fucked up and having to ride him. you let out a small scared sigh, while taking his boxers off too.

his cock springs up immediately and you lick your lips looking at it. you grab the base to stroke it a few times, before getting into position to ride him. you intertwine your fingers with his as you slowly go down on him. you almost feel like giving out when you take him all in but you need to make him feel good.

you slowly start riding him, his size almost being unbearable to take. he loves it though, he loves how you struggle to take him and how that small bulge appears in your stomach everytime you bounce up and down. he grabs and pulls on your hair just to make you speed up, teasing you with that hair pull each time he feels you slowed down.

you pick up your pace significantly, moving up and down, back and forth on him. your eyes roll back from the pleasure and it really feels like he’s splitting you into two. he stops holding hands to take your tits out of your bra just to fondle them a bit. he’s running his thumb all over your nipples, sending you shivers down your spine.

“such a good girl.” he remarks, coming from him this is a compliment. you smile at his words, motivating you to keep going. he’s very deep inside you right now, any sudden movement almost making you cum a second time..

you can hear him getting more vocal over time, he’s whimpering and cooing.. the usual tough guy that would control every movement of yours, is now getting so vocal.. you love it though, your favourite part of it might just be his moans.

you clench your teeth and force yourself to go as fast as you can, just to make him cum.

“fffuck…. princess hold.. on.. i’m close..” just music to your ears. you want to let this man fill you up right now. you push yourself even more to overstimulation just to make him cum.

he lets out a whimpery moan getting so close already.

“cum.. inside me.. please my love..”

those are the last words you can say before he cums all in you. he’s filling you up to the brim and you can do is smile, feeling his cum leaking out of you. you give him a sweet kiss on the lips then on the nose.

“fucking hell… maybe we should go out to dinner more often hm?”

you laugh, running your fingers through his hair. “you’re so cute.. now, wanna join me in the shower? no games this time.”

“waittt.. so this is why you didn’t send anything from your shower today.. let’s go for another round baby. what do you think?” he says, hugging your waist.

“hmmm.. maybeee. if you use those hands of yours again.”

“well, you know you’re in safe hands with me.”

#enhypen hard hours #enhypen #enhypen smut #jake sim #sim jaeyun #jake smut #jake hard thoughts #sim jake #kpop bg #kpop

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pathologicalreid · 2 years ago

Text

newly creds | S.R.

in which the BAU team wants to see your newly issued credentials

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category: fluff

content warnings: marriage. changing your name. slightly suggestive at the end but nothing explicit.

word count: 498

a/n: first and foremost, thank you so much for 100 followers AND for almost 3k likes i am so astounded by this im just so grateful. i absolutely wrote this while i was supposed to be doing privacy law homework. very proud of the title too. also today is my birthday so legally you have to like and reblog this!!! please enjoy <3

“So, let’s see it,” Derek prodded as he leaned over your desk, obviously searching the surface of it for something.

You peered up at him, “Can I help you?”

Before he could properly answer you, Emily entered the bullpen. Her eyes found you and she hastily piled her things on her desk before joining Morgan next to yours. “Do you have it?” She asked, dark hair shining as she inspected your desk.

Obviously, you had missed some sort of memo about whatever ‘it’ is. “I have uh, half of a bagel?” You offered helplessly, gesturing to your unfinished breakfast that was waiting patiently for you on top of a napkin.

“Y/N!” Penelope called your name from the glass doors she was rushing through, “Did I miss it? I want to see!”

Spencer rounded the corner of your desk, slowly placing a mug of fresh coffee on your desk, next to your abandoned bagel. “What’s going on?” He asked, carefully bringing his cup of coffee to his mouth to take a sip.

You shrugged, “They all want to see something but won’t tell me what ‘it’ is.” You grumbled, holding out your left hand, “Is this it?” The whole team had seen your ring already, Emily, Penelope, and JJ had even helped Spencer pick it out. You wondered if maybe they all wanted to see the engagement ring with your wedding band.

“Y/N,” another voice called, you resisted the urge to bury your face in your hands as you turned to face JJ. “Did you get the envelope that was on your desk? It got delivered to me by mistake, but I kept it safe while you two were honeymooning.”

Your lips parted, “Oh!” Quickly, you realized what everyone was pestering you about. You and Spencer had just gotten back from your weeklong honeymoon. The both of you got to work first, just to find a package on your desk. Rolling your chair back slightly, you rolled your eyes, “You know, you all could’ve just said something.”

You reached into your desk drawer and pulled out your credentials before unclipping your badge from your belt loop. Handing your creds to Derek and your badge to Garcia, who squealed in excitement, you couldn’t help but smile at Spencer. “SSA Y/N Reid,” Derek said, sounding like a proud parent.

Spencer placed a hand on your shoulder, and you beamed, “I wasn’t expecting them so quickly, I don’t even have my new driver’s license yet.”

“Does this mean you’re both going to answer to Reid now?” Emily asked, smiling at the prospect of confusion.

Shaking your head, you took your badge back, “Not unless it’s a prank. Hotch actually specifically asked us not to do that.”

“Welcome back,” Rossi said, walking into the bullpen and passing your desk. “I sure hope the two of you had the same kind of fun I did on my third honeymoon,” he teased, winking as he continued up to his office.

Spencer choked on his coffee.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #jennifer jareau #david rossi #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #written by margot

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earthsparked · 27 days ago

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You don’t even notice. That’s kind of the point of the whole hiding in plain sight thing, after all. When you go out to your car at 2 a.m. after one of the longest workdays of recent memory, everything is where you left it. Your car, right down to the license plate. Alone in the parking lot, because everyone else had gone home ages ago. You put your key in the door, settle in to the familiar seat. Pull on your seatbelt. Crank the ignition. No music this late. You get home without even thinking about it, navigating by familiar roads. You go inside, and collapse into bed.

You have the next day off, thankfully. You didn’t bother plugging your phone in to charge, in a passive-aggressive hint to work that you won’t be available. Sometimes you just get overwhelmed, and need to shut the world away. So you do.

You’re enjoying a nice cup of coffee made just the way you like it, and flip on your tv. Sports, commercials, travel show, old sitcom rerun, cartoons, a news show with footage of your car being dragged out of the lake, The Price is Right.

You frown. You click backwards. That was just a coincidence. Just the same color, maybe the same make of car? You flip back in time to see the cops standing around looking very serious, and the tow truck driver clamping the wheels onto the flatbed. You drop your coffee mug, narrowly missing your bare feet with the splash of coffee that spills onto the floor. You keep staring even as the news anchors cut back to the studio.

That was your license plate number. That was your funny bumper sticker. That was the little dent from a runaway shopping cart at the grocery store. That was your fucking car!

“-found by a fisherman early this morning. Police have been unable to locate the owner, and teams of divers are en route to begin searching the lake. If you have any information about this case, they ask that you call 911.”

Someone stole your car. And drove it into the lake. And - oh, shit. Your phone. Did you leave it in your car? Or had you put it in your bag and brought it in? You were so tired last night you can’t remember. You start tossing your house upside-down trying to find it. As you pass by the window, you catch a glimpse of sunlight reflecting on metal. You stop in your tracks and back up.

Your car is sitting in the driveway.

You were freaked out before, but now you’re starting to doubt your sanity a little. You go outside, still barefoot, and slowly approach your car. You walk around it, looking to see if anything is different. There’s the dent. The license plate. The bumper sticker. The little face on the front of the hood where the manufacturer’s logo should be.

You stand in front of the car and stare at that little face. You…have never seen that before. Is this some kind of prank? Who would even pull something like this? Why?

I don’t think this is my car, you say aloud, just trying the idea on for size. Because you’re feeling a little as if you’re slipping sideways to reality, here, and would like for things to start making sense again immediately. You stare accusingly at the car that looks like yours in every way possible, but can’t be, because objects can’t be in two places at the same time.

How in the hell. You pull open the door and slide into the seat. Yeah, there’s your dead phone, still in your bag where you left it. You pull it out. Talking to yourself to try and ward off the awful shivers you’re getting down your spine, and the way the hair is standing up on the back of your neck.

Okay, it’s okay. I don’t know what’s going on, but I better call the emergency services and let them know I’m not dead even though they found my car in the lake. Or something that looked like my car.

You very briefly wonder if maybe time travel is real and at some point you are going to end up driving into the water. You don’t get to finish that thought because as you move to get out, the door slams shut and the locks click. The engine starts up and yeah no this is not your car, because that sounds like some muscle car engine, not your dinky little passenger vehicle.

You grab at the door and yank, then pound on the glass in a panic. Let me out! Somebody HELP! God, what is this, some self-driving…

I really am sorry about this. Your vehicle was the only one available for me to scan, but then I had to get rid of the original, and - oh Primus, I’ve made a mess of this haven’t I? Optimus is going to - no no don’t, don’t make that noise! Please? I’m not going to hurt you! I like organics! You’re fascinating!

Later you’ll find him just as fascinating, and become quite good friends with the brilliant, if absent-minded engineer named Wheeljack. But in the moment, your nervous system decides it’s had enough of this, thank you very much.

Wait, no, don’t - ! Um. Oh, dear. His internal cameras scan over your unconscious form. Fainted, the internet calls it. He had only meant to stop you from calling the authorities, not scare you into crashing!

Before he can figure out what to do about it, the enemy signal he’d been running from since arriving on earth two days ago, pings in his sensor array.

And now he’s accidentally endangered you. He can hardly leave you behind, with the Decepticons on the prowl. Primus only knows what they’ll do to you if they connect you to him. He slides a seatbelt over you, and darkens the windows so no one can look in.

Sorry again, little one, but it looks like you’re coming with me.

#get abducted by aliens idiot #oops everyone thinks you’re dead #transformers x human #transformers x reader #transformers first contact au #human distribution system #wheeljack x reader

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dreamdrbbles · 6 months ago

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so here’s my first drabble! interpreted from a very fun dream i had. it’s definitely a fantasy, so if you don’t mind suspended reality a little bit with me.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you’ve finally convinced yourself to go back to school and get your degree, you’re late to your first class and your professor doesn’t take too kindly to tardiness. or, does he?

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: aaron pierre as dr. pierre & the black!fem reader as you.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: heavy smut, power imbalance, daddy kink, crude language, a bunch of grown folks things. minors do not interact.

Going back to school was your greatest accomplishment to date. At thirty, it wasn’t easy to take the leap and register for classes. You were terrified of being seen as the old freshman, but your dreams held more weight than your ego. You were proud of the life you’d built, sacrificing your own education to work and save so your younger brother could have the college experience he deserved. At just eighteen, you stepped up for your family, getting a full-time job to help fund his education. Now, ten years later, your baby brother was well on his way to earning a master’s degree. It was finally time to center yourself for once.

“Shit!” you yelped, bolting upright in bed. Your alarm hadn’t gone off, and the panic was immediate. You were supposed to be up an hour ago, but now you were going to be late for your very first college class. The one everyone told you not to take because it was at 8 a.m. You’d brushed them off, thinking, I used to wake up earlier than that for work. I got this. Clearly, you didn’t. It was 7:15, and you had 45 minutes to pull yourself together and get to Magnolia A&M University, your local HBCU.

Luckily, you’d picked out your outfit the night before. You had work later at the country club, and tennis lessons were on the schedule. That meant your Nike tennis skirt and matching top would have to do. After a rushed shower, skincare routine, and throwing your hair into a curly pineapple, you grabbed your keys. It was a ten-minute drive to campus, but with your luck today, who knew if you’d make it on time?

Magnolia A&M wasn’t just a school; it was a deliberate choice. Your family had always valued community and Black excellence, so an HBCU was a no-brainer. Every time you stepped on campus, you wished you’d started right after high school. Now, at thirty, you felt too old for frat parties or the Battle of the Bands, but you still loved the sense of unity. The royal blue and orange school colors? You wore them with pride.

You sped to campus like you had a getaway driver’s license, thanking the ancestors you didn’t get a ticket. After finding the right building, you made it to the lecture hall only 15 minutes late. African-American History was your first class of the day—and your minor. It had been the first course you registered for, the one you were most excited about.

As you pushed open the lecture hall doors, all eyes turned toward you, including those of your professor. You couldn’t see him clearly from the back of the room, but his posture alone radiated disapproval. Your stomach sank as you scanned the rows of seats. Of course, the only open spot was smack dab in the front row. Middle seat.

You braced yourself for the walk of tardy shame. Muttering “excuse me” and “sorry” at least ten times, you maneuvered your thick frame between tables and chairs. The awkward ordeal felt like it dragged on forever, but finally, you slid into the empty seat, heart racing.

The professor’s voice was what caught your attention first—deep, rich, and laced with a smooth British accent. You froze mid-search in your bag for a notebook and pen. When your gaze finally lifted to meet his, you nearly forgot to breathe.

Goddamn.

The word echoed in your mind before you could stop it. Beautiful wasn’t a word you usually reserved for men, but no other word fit. His sharp, masculine features contrasted with a pair of thick lashes framing aquamarine eyes. His neat facial hair outlined full, pink lips, and you couldn’t stop your thighs from pressing together as a very salacious thought crept into your mind. one that started with his wet duo on your first set of lips, and ending on your second.

Focus, girl. Eyes off the man and on the syllabus.

You forced yourself to listen, trying to ignore the low hum of his voice that made your spine tingle. Curiosity bubbled up as you wondered what a man from London was doing teaching African-American Studies in Texas. Almost as if reading your mind, he began explaining.

He told the class how reading The Autobiography of Malcolm X in middle school ignited his fascination with race relations in the West. That fascination led him to pursue a bachelor’s, master’s, and doctorate in African-American Studies. The name “Dr. Aaron Pierre” on your schedule had conjured an image of an older, graying professor who had more experience than book knowledge. You weren’t expecting a thirty year old Adonis who looked like he belonged on the cover of GQ.

The class went on like normal, an introductory first day of school. The hour ticked by as you gawked at your professor’s arms in the fitted black polo shirt he wore. It wasn’t until everyone around you had gotten up that you realized class had been dismissed. You followed suit, only to have your name called out in that deep baritone. How had he remembered it? Your introduction was one of the first of at least seventy-five.

“Can I see you in my office? You missed the first few minutes of class, just want to make sure you’re up to speed.”

Your throat was suddenly rivalry for the Sahara desert, your stomach hollowed. You were about to get kicked out of your first college course, all because your stupid alarm didn’t sound. You followed him to his office in silence, he opened the heavy wooden door for you and you ambled inside. Once the door closed behind you, you turned on your heels with an explanation at the ready. Until you realized his eyes were scanning your frame.

“The outfit… it’s different.” His comment caught you off guard, making your brows knit together. Was he picking on you? You glanced down at your tennis skirt. It hugged your curves, sure, but it wasn’t like you’d rolled out of bed in pajamas.

“I work after class,” you explained, tone sharp but polite. “I’m a tennis instructor.” His eyebrows lifted slightly, a flicker of interest flashing across his face. “Tennis?” He asked as he walked past you, to the other side of the cherry wood desk.

“Yeah, tennis.” You straightened your back, meeting his gaze. You’d been playing since elementary school. Your parents always joked that you could’ve been the next Venus or Serena, but you were realistic. You weren’t that good, just good enough to teach seven and eight year olds the basics.

Dr. Pierre leaned back against his desk, crossing his arms. “Let me be clear. Lateness will not be tolerated in my class. I take my work very seriously, and I expect my students to do the same.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. He really expected a room full of teenagers and young adults to be on time for an 8 a.m. lecture? Cute, and delusional. “Dr. Pierre,” you said, softening your voice. “I apologize. My alarm didn’t go off, and I worked late last night. I promise, it won’t happen again.”

His gaze lingered on you, and then he said, with absolute confidence, “I know.”

Your head tilted slightly, trying to figure out what he meant. He didn’t know you. And he sure as hell wasn’t your daddy. “Uh, okay. Whatever that means,” you mumbled, more to yourself than to him.

He smiled—a slow, deliberate curve of his lips—and then, to your utter shock, said, “You’re beautiful.”

“Tha-thank you,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Dr. Pierre’s expression remained unreadable as he began to close the distance between you. Each deliberate step sent a jolt of electricity racing down your spine, rooting you to the spot. You couldn’t move, couldn’t think—completely stunned by his actions. By the time he was within arm’s reach, your breath was shaky, uneven. His hand reached out, wrapping gently but firmly around your wrist. The warmth of his touch sent a spark up your arm, and before you could process it, he pulled you closer.

Your chest brushed against his, and the faint, intoxicating scent of teakwood and cedar enveloped you. The combination was rich and grounding, but it wasn’t just the cologne—he smelled good. Too good.

He leaned down slowly, his aquamarine eyes locking onto yours, heavy with intent. You were hyperaware of everything in that moment; the way his grip lingered, the heat radiating from his body, and the way his lashes framed those impossible eyes. Your faces were so close now that your noses barely brushed. The faintest touch, but enough to make your heart race like you’d run a marathon.“Can I?” he murmured, his voice low and velvet-smooth, like a secret meant only for you. The words hung in the air, and without hesitation, you gave him what he needed, your consent.

The moment his lips met yours, the world seemed to fade away. His kiss was slow, deliberate, and impossibly soft. He moved with care, as though savoring every second, every touch. You felt your knees weaken, and for a fleeting moment, you feared you might melt into the floor right where you stood. The scent of him, the warmth of his lips, the way his hand slid down to cradle the small of your back—it was all-consuming. Time slowed, and the only thing that existed was him. When he pulled back, just enough to let your noses brush again, his eyes searched yours as if waiting for a sign. Your lips still tingled from his kiss, and your heart thundered in your chest.

“I-I’m going to be late for work.” You stumbled, he laughed, amusement of the irony coming from the depths of his diaphragm. “You didn’t give a fuck about being late to my class, am I not just as important? Hm?” He inquired, tilting your head up so that you were staring in those oceanic orbs. He subtly pushed you backwards until the bend of your knees collided with his desk. With ease, he picked you up and sat you on top of it. He kneeled down before you, as if your body was an altar he would pray to. “You smell so good.” He uttered as he leaned in and pressed his nose to the center of your now soaked panty, taking in your aroma. It was the sexiest thing that had ever happened to you.

“I can’t believe this…” You meant to keep that inside, but clearly your mind had other plans.

“Believe it.” He responded with a laugh. “I wanted you the moment I saw you walk in my class, baby.” Skillfully he pulled your panties off completely, opening the drawer next to him and dropping them in there as his own personal souvenir. He pushed your skirt up onto your body until it was damn near a belt, balling up the pleats in his hands as he devoured your center, lick by lick.

He feasted on you as if he would never be nourished again, sipping your waters as if they came from the finest of natural spring. hell, clearly they had. “Oh my fucking God!” You squeaked as his lips wrapped around your pulsating clit, giving it a sweet, sloppy french kiss. His middle and index finger grazing your drenched slit as he slipped both inside. his thick digits filled you up, causing your muscles to tighten around him. He grunted against your pussy, imagining how tightly you would grip his manhood.

“That’s not my name princess, I’m not God.” He was to you, in this moment. he had sucked your free will right out of your coochie. What was his fucking name? “What’s my name?” He inquired as if he was reading your mind once again. His fingers continued to please you, grazing his smooth tips against your ribbed g-spot. This nigga had a Ph.d in more than just some history. “Doctorrrrrrrrr….” You whined out, dragging out the profession as he pressed sweet kisses right above your gushing mound while you smothered his digits in your sweetness.

“Doctor….daddy!” You cried out, hoping that there was no one in the near vicinity that would’ve heard your outburst. Another laugh as he slowly slid his fingers out of you, now covered and dripping in your cum. “Doctor daddy..I like that.” He retorted before slipping his fingers into his mouth, cleaning you off of him one by one as you watched in awe. Stunned by his insistence of eye contact. Removing his fingers, he used the same two to beckon you to come close to him, once you sat up he leaned over you, his lips ghosting yours before he spat the mixture of your cum and his saliva into your mouth before engaging you in a messy lip lock.

The kiss was the distraction. You had completely missed the unbuckling of his belt, the sound of his zipper or him removing his hard inches out of his dress pants. Before you realized it, he pulled you to the edge of the desk and slipped inside of you. Your walls reacted before your brain could, gripping onto him for dear life. So surprised by the intrusion that it felt like you would push him out all together. Your breathing hitched, in a way to relax your body so that he could continue exploring the depths of you.

“Augh!” You groaned out as he worked the first few inches of himself in and out of your throbbing center. He pressed his lips to yours repeatedly, whispering for you to hush every now and again. “Be a good girl, take this dick…if you can be late to my class, surely you can handle dick.” He mumbled, his accent causing a chill to run up your spine. He was gentle, despite his rough approach. He fed you little by little until your pelvises collided and you were completely full of him. He laid you on the desk, hands on each side of your head, eyes connected as he began to stroke, deep and powerful. “Look at you, such a pretty girl. Wrapped around me like you love me.”

‘I DO.’ You wanted to scream. But instead melodic moans escaped your warm lips, words were inconveniently absent. You can tell your lack of verbal participation was bothering him just a bit, by the way the swing of his hips picked up with every new thrust. After a moment or two, he was fucking you relentlessly. His thick crown had found your spot and was no longer caressing it with care. He was beating your shit.

“Are you gonna’ be late again?” he asked, every syllable being drilled into your guts. Your stomach twisted and turned with each pump, but he peered down at you like he expected an answer, like your brain could comprehend what he was even saying.

You parted your lips to speak, but failed once again, a moan being the only verbalization you could produce. the strokes came to an abrupt stop, he pulled out of you without so much as a warning. “Wait!” you called out, desperately, holding your hands out like you could put him back in your damn self. he chuckled darkly. “You think you can ignore me and cum?”

You couldn’t realistically promise you’d never be late again, you didn’t control traffic, or flat tires, or bad hair days but you would’ve said anything to feel him again. “I’ll never be late again, Doctor. I promise. Just please…let me cum all over you.” You purred, making empty promises.

“I don’t believe you.” He added curtly, slapping the head of his massive erection against your clit, watching his pre-cum glaze your bulb. “But your pussy feels too good for me to argue.” He concluded as he entered you again, continuing his euphoric pillage of your body. The knots in your belly felt permanent, your toes curled as your legs wrapped around him. Your climax approaching with the volt of a thousand watts. His wood throbbed inside of you, pulsating with the same intensity. He was meeting you at your peak. “Fuck…” He grunted, proving your theory right. You draped your arms across his neck, leaning in and pressing your lips to his jawline, placing kisses until you reached his ear. “Cum with me, Dr. Pierre…I wanna feel you dripping out of me.” Your salacious words seemed to do the trick as both of you unraveled at the very same time.

You should’ve felt shame, or even disillusioned. But you felt nothing short of satisfied and empowered. Your legs were shaking and you were full of a strangers seed, but dammit was your first day of school memorable.

“8:00 AM, Wednesday. Don’t be late…” He spoke as he buckled his belt, looking up at you with those piercing orbs. “Oh, and that seat in front of me is now your assigned seat.” He added, prompting a laugh to fall from your lips.

“See you Wednesday, Dr. Pierre.” You concluded as you exited his office and back into the real world.

Fuck, you were late for work.

#aaron pierre smut #aaron pierre x black!reader #aaron pierre x black reader #black writers

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