i understand your view points on ai, are you still going to be making bots?
i honestly couldn’t tell you. some days i feel like i want to get back into it, but i also think it’s very quick gratification with c.ai—write something short and boom, done. not much thought or challenge in it at all, which is why long form writing is what i started to focus on.
so, who knows? maybe one day i’ll get a random idea that would only work in bot form and post it, but maybe not. i wouldn’t count on it.
also sorry same anon but i do just wanna say i love your writing !! its very clear the level of talent you have and im so happy you choose to share it with us :D
omg thank you😭😭 that means so much, especially after not having written anything in so long❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
Hey lol stupid question. in the part two u posted like a few hours ago, in the warnings it says “forceful oral” and i wanted to read this…but im unsure of what that even means
like hes forcing her to do it? idk it feels icky (at least in the way it’s worded)
not a stupid question at all! i was even stuck on what to really call it without making it sound wrong (which i will now change to better wording), but basically he just hold her still while he…goes at it LOL it’s all consensual!!!!!
i’ve been okayyyyyy. life was just going so so fast for a bit there and my work became very very overwhelming (still is) but i’m pushing through! trying to get back to doing what i love!!
summary: after fighting with himself over a past encounter with you, harry decides he can’t forget about you like the rest (or take that elevator ever again). when he calls you into his office to discuss “reports”, things go exactly how he planned.
a/n: heyyyyyy. it’s been a while. a very long while. i had this in my docs for months and just now got around to finishing it. guess lawyer harry really inspired me. this is the part two of broken elevator that some people asked for, so, you’re welcome. enjoy you freaks ;)
𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹
Things are…tense today, to put it mildly. It seems the whole office is feeling it. Perhaps it’s my problem? A tone I’m setting that everyone is forced to bask in. But is that really my fault? Yeah, probably.
Truth be told, I’ve been feeling quite odd for the last few weeks. An incessant stirring in my chest that’s main goal is to keep me on edge. Something I can’t put my finger on, but have a mild inkling of what it could be—what could be causing it. And it’s not something I’d like to admit to myself, let alone aloud. But it’s slowly becoming something I can’t ignore.
Maybe I can get out of the office early today? Drive down to the bar, alone—like the loser I’ve recently become—and find the first willing victim to help resolve my…problem. See if that will quiet the dull throbbing in my head and the restless jittering in my bones. A nice fuck to take my mind off of it all. Because that’s all it will do; take my mind off of it. I’m certain, come the next morning, the ache will return.
I stay awake at night fearing that you’re the only one that can completely silence it all. It was you who ignited these feelings after all.
One month. That’s how long it’s been since that fateful night in the elevator. The one I haven’t stepped foot in since. Luckily, my calves have stopped burning from the stairs now after exclusively using them for so long. One whole month and I still can’t shake the images—the sounds and feelings—from my brain. Maybe that’s why I haven’t gotten laid since.
I’ve taken notice of prospects, don’t get me wrong. Trying has become my new motto, and it’s all I seem to do these days. Even though none of those attempts to try lead anywhere. I get close sometimes. Buy a pretty girl a drink at the bar, make casual flirtatious comments, even extend an offer back at my place. But the second the word ‘yes’ leaves their lips, all I hear is your moans of the same word. The ones I made you scream over and over in that cramped space. The most unromantic setting in the world has quickly become the most erotic to me in my head.
Damn… Now I’m sitting at half-mast in the middle of the workday. Great.
What am I meant to do when distractions don’t work anymore? What am I meant to do when my number one distraction is sitting in a cubicle not 100 feet away?
One of the reasons my feelings toward this whole fucked up situation are so confusing is because of your lack of reaction.
You come into work everyday like nothing ever happened. Like I didn’t have you screaming beneath me, begging for more. You continue wearing those godforsaken pencil skirts like you have no clue what they do to me. I can still feel the fabric of it under my fingertips as I hiked it over your hips. You sit at your desk, do your work, and seem completely unbothered. You even have the audacity to continue using the elevator. It’s aggravatingly annoying.
Why aren’t you just as wrecked as I am? Riddled with the memories of skin on skin? Why aren’t you barging into my office and begging for more? Was it truly only so memorable for me? Will I ever be able to shake you from my system? Move on?
A thought strikes me.
What if the only reason I’m so stuck on this one encounter is because you’re not? Maybe if I got my answers, cleared the steamy air between us, it would all go away? I could finally be free of it all. The visuals, the sounds, the feelings. All of it; gone. Hopefully that’s the answer, because it’s my last resort.
I find myself leaping up out of my chair without a second thought, unable to spend another single second in the uncomfortable unknown. Words flurry around in my head as I head for my office door, planning out which to use to make my questions come off correctly. You could reject speaking to me all together. But that’d only be if you knew what I needed to speak with you about. I guess I’ll just have to lie.
Familiar sounds of typing and murmurs float through the air as I step out onto the office floor. Light conversations happening all around, work getting done, and yet I’m here on a mission. One no one knows about. One no one can know about.
“Can I see you in my office?” are the first words out of my mouth as soon as I round your cubicle, hushed and secretive, meant just for you. Your eyes flick to my face, surprise evident in your gaze. It’s like I can see the cogs turning in your head, mulling over every possible answer for this random visit from me. It occurs to me that you might think you’re getting fired for what transpired between us, so I add, “I’d like to go over some…reports with you.”
You clear your throat, nodding hesitantly as you push away from your desk to stand. I don’t move an inch as you do, leaving your hip to nearly brush my hand. I pray my shuttering breath wasn’t as loud as it felt, and I damn myself for even reacting like that over something so minuscule.
But it's monumental in relation to how my body has reacted in the past month. And it was only for you. Fuck.
The sound of our footsteps, mine heavy and determined, yours light and weary, are added to the atmospheric sounds around us. I have to hope that no one around can sense the same tension I’m feeling as we travel to my office. And I pray that you can’t feel the burning gaze of my eyes on your backside. It’s distracting—sue me!
When the door to my office closes behind us, you obediently take a seat in one of my guest chairs. As I waltz to my side, I watch as you cross your legs politely. My reaction to it is anything but. The feeling of my cock twitching inside of my pants as your skirt rides up your thighs gives away how I’m truly feeling about it. Luckily, my large desk covers me as I adjust myself when I sit down.
“So, these…reports?” you’re the first one to speak, making all of this too real.
I flounder for a second, realizing that you’re here for a meeting that doesn’t exist. I’m forced to come up with something fast. Something to bide my time until I can bring up the real reason you’re here. So, naturally, I reach into my filing cabinet and grab a random folder full of papers that don’t pertain to anything. But as soon as the papers smack onto my desk, a plan forms in my head.
“I need you to look these over for me.” My palm lays flat against the manila folder, not pushing it toward you an inch. Your eyes flick from my hand to my eyes, a hesitancy in your subtle movements that makes the hair stand up on my arms. My hand leaves the folder for just a second, and you immediately go to reach for it, to bring it closer to yourself. My hand slams down over it, keeping it right where it is. “You need to look these over for me…got it?”
I see it then. The way your lips part slightly, bringing in more air for your shallow breaths. You're getting the hint. Now I just have to hope that you take the bait.
It plays out like a choreographed dance. You lean forward as I lean back. One moment you’re sitting in the chair across from me, and the next, you’re bending at the hips, hovering over my desk. Your eyes haven’t left mine. My eyebrows lift in challenge, hands gripping my chairs arms like it’s a liferaft, and you don’t crack. But you do fold. Eyes casting downward to the nonsense documents below you. I take that as my chance.
I’m out of my chair in the matter of a second, striding around my desk like I’m a man on a mission. And I am. I don’t even check a look back at you to make sure you’re still where I left you. For some reason, deep down, I know you haven’t moved an inch. Not as I reach the front of my office and shut all the blinds. Not as I head for the door and click the lock. Not even as I come right up behind you, hips pressing against your ass—you still don’t move. But your breath hitches, and I know I’ve won.
“Tell me to stop…” I reach down to grab a handful of your hips, feeling like I could black out from the familiarity. You don’t respond, though. You don’t tell me to stop, you don’t push me away—but you don’t tell me to keep going.
I bend over your body, covering you like a sheet until my face is nestled in the crook of your neck. I breathe against your skin there, watching goosebumps rise in the wake. My body churns. But I repeat, “Tell me to stop.”
“D-Don’t stop…” you whisper, breathy and uncontrolled.
And that was all I needed to hear.
I straighten up behind you and give no warning before my hand cracks down on your ass. You yelp, jolting forward from the impact. A rumbling hum growls deep in my chest, my hand smoothing over the fabric of your skirt before gripping your hips with a vice hold in both my hands. I move you for my own viewing pleasure. Pulling you away and tugging you back, mimicking the act of you gliding on and off of my cock. It makes me feel insane.
“God… I’ve missed your body. This fucking ass of yours—shit.” I thrust my hips against said ass, groaning at the feel. “Tell me I’m not crazy. Tell me you missed this too.”
My hips have a mind of their own as they continue grinding against your ass, making you squirm against my desk.
“You’re not crazy…” you whisper again, another confession straight to my gut.
“Fuck…” I sigh, watching my bulge glide between you crease of your ass cheeks in that godforsaken pencil skirt. “You know what you wearing these skirts does to me, baby?” I grip your hips tighter for emphasis. You just crane your neck back, peering at me over your shoulder with a small smirk on your lips. Telling me that you know exactly what you’re doing by wearing them. “Oh, you’re cruel…” I laugh lightly, spanking you again to prove my point. “You know I’m gonna have to punish you for that, baby.”
“I know…” Your words are just a breath, teasing me and pulling me deeper and deeper into your spell. I’m hooked. Have been since that first time I took you. Clearly.
I mirror your smirk, though mine is much more dangerous. A promise of my words hidden in the lines of my lips.
And there’s no warning when I slam my hips against yours from behind. The rough motion has your pelvis hitting the edge of my desk with a brutal force, making the whole thing shake. Pencils fall to the floor, papers floating down in their escape, but nothing's broken—yet.
“Have you fucked anyone since me, baby?” I hold my breath as I wait for your answer, selfishly hoping that you say no. Lord knows I couldn’t get it up for anyone else. It might actually wreck me if you say yes.
“N-no,” you finally reply, shaky, like you didn’t want to admit it.
I hum, pleased with your answer. “Good girl… Were you waiting for this? Waiting for my cock to fill you up again?” You nod, but I don’t push for your words this time. I’m too fucking antsy. I need to get my hands on you. Need to feel you beneath my fingertips. Feel your warmth wrapped around my cock.
My fingers reach for the zipper of your skirt, deciding I want it off this time. I want to see all of you. I drag it down slowly, the sound of it mixing with your labored breaths. Once it’s undone, I push the waistband of it down past your hips until it’s pooled on the floor around your heels. My gaze drags up from there, those black stilettos making your legs look like they go on for miles. Sheer black tights encase you, and my fingertip drags along the stitching on the back. Up, up, and up… Leading me right where you want me.
I cup your heat with my whole hand, gripping it like it’s mine—because it is.
“God, you’re warm. Can only imagine the mess you’ve made of yourself already.” I slap your pussy, watching you jolt. I smile to myself, fully taking in the scene of you spread out like this for me. But I need more.
Before you can protest, my hands fist into the sheer material of your tights and pull. Ripping them right down the middle and finally giving me access to your ass. Of course, I spank it. The bare flesh turning red right before my eyes. My fingers hook into the tiny scrap of fabric you call panties, groaning at the sight of it nestled between your cheeks, and tug it to the side. Finally, getting the view I’ve been quite literally dreaming about for a month. Can’t even count how many times I had to rub one out in the shower before coming into work just from the memory.
And there it is, in all of its glory.
Your perfect, beautifully pink pussy on display just for me. It glistens in the fluorescent lighting, giving away how turned on you are. My cock strains against my slacks, begging to bury itself deep inside. But I can’t just yet. I need this to last. Who knows when I’ll get you like this again.
I smooth my hand down from your ass cheek in between your legs, cupping your heat once again, only this time, you’re completely bare. My middle finger gets enveloped by your folds, nestled in your slit like a hug. I slowly rock my hand back and forth over your entire sex, feeling you shiver beneath my touch.
“Has your pussy missed me? Been aching for me?”
“Yes,” you reply quickly, breathless and needy. It makes something in me settle, knowing I can still get you like this. A mess in my hands.
“Bet this pretty, little cunt missed feeling full.” All you can do is whine in response, especially since my fingers are now dragging up and down between your folds. Your wetness coats my digits with every swipe. I lean down over you again until my breath hits your ear. “This pussy—“ I drag my fingers down to your entrance, “—is mine.”
The final word is emphasized with my two fingers ramming inside of you. I don’t wait for you to adjust. I don’t even wait for you to swallow your gasp back in. My fingers work skillfully and quick, fucking into you at a relentless pace. You scream out when the twist of them brushes against that spongy muscle deep inside, but you quickly slap a hand over your mouth.
“Don’t want anyone to hear you, baby? Don’t want them to know how good I make you feel?” I slow my fingers, letting the twist and curl of them do most of the work. You shake your head, whining against your palm. It shouldn’t anger me that you want to keep quiet, it’s you being sensible so we don’t both lose our jobs. But I want to hear you. Want to hear those pretty noises you make when I’m making you feel so good, making you lose your mind. It’s a battle in my head, but I don’t want to push your boundaries on this. So, I settle for hearing your muffled cries.
I drag my fingers out of your hole slowly, letting you feel every bit of pleasure before I take it all away. You whine and wriggle around, begging for my fingers again. I’ve got to be honest, the sight of your hips moving, seeking me out—your pussy dripping and clenching in a plea—almost makes me fold. But I stand my ground.
I reach forward and twist your hair around my hand, yanking your head up from the desk. “You wanna keep quiet, baby? Cause I know a good way of shutting you up…” Your dark gaze connects with mine, your panting breaths spurring me on. I lift one eyebrow in question, and all you can do is nod.
I yank on your hair again. “Up,” I demand, pulling you up to stand straight. I do a once over of you like this. Standing before me in a rustled blouse, ripped pantyhose and crooked panties. You look like the most beautiful mess I’ve ever seen. “On your knees, baby.”
You hesitate for a second, questioning the seriousness of my instructions. I make my request solid when I tug your head backward with my grip still on your head. “I said on your knees.”
Finally, you sink down, sitting back on your heels below me. I can’t help but moan at the sight of you like this. “Unbutton your top.”
This time, you follow without question, working the buttons of your top undone until it flows open, giving me a glimpse of your breasts. I can already see how hard your nipples are through the thin cups, pebbled and needy just for me. I can’t wait to make those titties bounce while you ride my dick again.
“Tell me, baby… Do you like sucking dick?” You look thrown off by question, momentarily stunned by the bluntness. “Don’t worry, baby… You’re gonna love sucking mine.”
I keep your head in place with my hand still tangled in your hair, but my other hand starts working at my belt and pants. I’m a little frenzied, already halfway gone just from the sight of your anticipation. So much so that I don’t even push my pants down all the way. Just enough to let my cock spill out, hard and aching for that pretty mouth of yours.
“See what you do to me? Been rock hard since the last time.” And that’s not an overexaggeration. “Now, open that mouth of yours and let me fuck it.”
I watch you swallow hard, imagining the feel of that exact action when my cock is deep in your throat. But then your lips are popping open, wide and ready to pleasure me however I want. Your tongue hangs out eagerly for a taste. I hold my length in my free hand, pumping it a few times while just staring at you. I step just a fraction closer, enough to let me place the tip of my cock on your tongue. I tap it against it, letting you get used to the weight and girth before slowly pushing in.
Your lips mold around me, stretched and tight. I groan—loudly—at the feel. The warmth and wetness of your mouth is almost as good as your pussy. “Fuck, baby… Suck me tighter.”
You hollow out your cheeks, suctioning me in with a grip I choke on a breath over. And then it’s game over for both of us.
I tighten my grip on your hair and force you forward, forcing my cock deeper down your throat. You gag and choke around me, eyes already watering, but I keep you there, relishing in the tightening muscle milking me. When your eyes go wide, I give you some grace, pulling you off completely so you can suck in a sharp breath. A string of saliva connects your lips to my tip, and it’s a mesmerizing sight. I wipe below your eyes with my free hand, catching the tears before they can spill.
“Ready, baby?” I ask, voice husky and low. “Cause that was just the warm up. Open.”
You take a deep breath before opening your mouth again, and I don’t even wait to slide my cock deep inside. The warmth of you surrounds me once again making me moan, head titling back in pleasure. Even more so when your tongue swirls around me. “Fuck…”
I keep your head still as my hips start to move. With every roll of my hips, the tip of my dick hits deep in the base of your throat. You almost take all of me down. Your eyes never stray from mine as I fuck your mouth, wide and glassy. I smirk down at you between groans, my final warning before letting loose.
I thrust into your mouth with more force, hearing you gurgle and gag around me every time I hit your reflex. Your throat tightens, clenching around me perfectly. Fuck, you’re a sight like this. Mouth full and stretched with my cock between your lips. Eyes watery and wide as you moan around me. Your hands land on my thighs, digging into my slacks to ground yourself. I growl, my hips moving faster and faster. The sounds you make are insane. The wet sounds of your saliva, the choking when I slip too deep, and your moans—god, your moans.
“Think you can take me deeper?” I question, stilling my hips so you can have a second to breathe. And when you nod, all bets are off.
I let you take the lead this time, sitting up a little higher on your knees. You grip onto my thighs tighter as you slowly take me deeper and deeper. I can’t help the shaky moans that leave me as I watch, eyes still connected with mine. I feel my tip go past the curve of your throat and down into your esophagus. You swallow and I nearly come right then and there. And with just a few more steadying, sharp breaths through your nose, you guide me down the rest of the way. Until the tip of your nose is buried in the hair at my navel.
“Holy f-fuck…” I gasp, shaking from the pleasure of just this. I slowly tilt your chin up, not enough to make you uncomfortable in this position, but just enough to see your throat. And there it is. The bulge of my cock deep down under your skin. I am completely ruined for anyone else. Tears slip out of your eyes as you repeatedly gag, and that’s when I pull you off.
You rest back on your heels, sucking in a sharp breath and coughing harshly. I’m still stuck in my daze, watching you try to compose yourself. I fist my cock, pumping myself at the sight of you. Wiping under your eyes, cleaning up the saliva from your chin, and taking in unsteady breaths. You have no idea the effect you have on me. Once you’ve finally composed yourself enough, you notice me stroking myself. You try to lean forward and take me back into your mouth, but I halt you.
“No… You’re just gonna watch.” My hand works a little bit faster, brushing over my tip to spread my pre-cum over myself. “Take your shirt off.” You listen without any question, shrugging your open blouse off and letting it fall to the floor behind you. Sitting there with your hands in your lap, just your bra and panties. So fucking sexy. “Take your bra off, too. Wanna see you, baby. Wanna see those tits.”
You smile shyly—odd, since you shamelessly had my dick down your throat not a minute ago—but comply. Reaching behind yourself, you unclasp your bra and let it fall. Your breasts pour out, a beautiful sight. I groan, tightening my grip on myself. You reposition the way you're sitting to get a little more comfortable, but the movement just makes your tits jiggle and bounce.
“Fuck,” I curse, pumping myself faster. My muscles grow tight as more moans spill from my lips. Your eyes are trained on my hand, watching me stroke myself, listening intently to my low sounds of pleasure.
You think I don’t notice, but I do. You think your hand slowly slipping between your clenched thighs can fly under the radar, but it can’t. I groan, low and deep in my throat as I watch you slowly start to touch yourself. “Let me watch…” I murmur.
And you obey.
You lean back onto your free hand and let your legs spread for me. I moan, watching you move your panties to the side and expose yourself to me again. Your pussy is still red and wet from when I pounded it with my fingers earlier, and that just goes straight to my dick. I squeeze the base of my dick to try and get a grip on myself, but as soon as your fingers slip in between your folds, I don’t even try to restrain myself anymore.
“Fuck, yeah, baby… Touch yourself.” I watch you slowly rub your clit, wishing it was my fingers playing with that bud instead. I can’t take my eyes off your pussy, it’s physically impossible. The way your folds spread as your fingers speed up, your clit swelling with sensitivity—it’s intoxicating. I slowly sink down onto my knees in front of you, getting a closer view of the show. You moan lowly, leaning back farther onto your elbows as your fingers grow frantic. I don’t even notice the speed in which I’m stroking myself until the sound of my strangled grunts hits my ears. I let myself fall forward, trapping you beneath me with one hand next to your head. “You’re close. I can tell… Does touching myself get you off, baby?”
“Yes— Yes!” you whine, back arching toward me. Your fingers keep swirling yourself, pressing down harder.
“Fuck, you’re so sexy… Spread your lips. Let me see that tight hole, baby.”
You stop rubbing yourself for just a second so I can get a glimpse of your entrance, leaking down toward your ass and clenching around nothing. My mouth waters at the sight, growing overly impatient to be inside of you. My hand works faster and faster over myself until I’m breathless and panting above you. The daze of pleasure creeps up on me slowly, hearing your moans filter through my ears as you rub yourself again.
“I’m gonna—fuck! I’m gonna cum! Gonna cum all over your pussy.” My balls tighten as my teeth dig into my bottom lip. You squirm beneath me, trying to catch up. My eyes can’t choose a place to look. Your face, twinged with pleasure, needy and wrecked. Your tits, bouncing with each jerk of your hips. Or your pussy, spread and wet, just for me. The moment you pull your lips apart to rub deeper, I bust.
“Oh— G-God, fuck,” I moan, hips jerking my length into my hand as I come undone. Ribbons of white shooting out, painting itself all over your pussy. Coated in it. Such a mess. You shriek a moan and I’m back in the moment.
My fingers move without any thought, pushing your hand out of the way and swiping through your folds to collect my cum.
And then I’m ramming it deep inside your cunt.
I watch my fingers dive deep into you, my mess squelching along your walls. You thrash against the floor, overstimulated by all the sensations. So what do I do? I kick it up a notch.
I lower myself until I’m practically laying on my stomach, the perfect vantage point. Leaning in, I flick my tongue over your sensitive clit, making you scream. I smile into your cunt as you toss your arm over your mouth and bite down like a gag. My fingers curl toward your g-spot, my lips suck your bud into my mouth, and my hand reaches up to palm your breast. Every place you could get pleasure from, I’m stimulating it.
One pinch of your nipple, one swirl of my tongue, and one more long press deep inside of you, and you’re coming undone. Your hips writhe against my face and I accept it, letting you coat me in our mixed juices. I slowly pull my fingers out and hear you whine, making up for it by placing a kiss to your throbbing clit. That makes you jolt. But then I’m kissing my way up your body. Your pelvis, your hips, your stomach, your ribs, your sternum, your breasts, your collarbones, your neck, your jaw, and finally your lips.
Your arms wrap around my neck as you deepen the kiss, seeking out the taste of yourself on my tongue. I groan into your mouth, scooping my arms underneath you and helping you sit up. I pull back from your mouth to instead place two softer kisses against each of your cheeks.
“You alright?”
“Yeah…” you breathe, soft and still a bit shaky.
I scoop you up in my arms and stand on my wobbly legs, carrying you over to my desk. Setting you down on the edge of it, I take a small step back just to admire you. Completely bare for me and absolutely beautiful. I can’t help but lean in for a firm kiss. You smile against my lips and it makes my heart lurch. It’s almost too soft, having to remind myself that that isn’t what this is.
No matter what my traitorous brain is telling me.
So, instead, I think with my dick.
I take both of your thighs from around my waist and lift them up and over my shoulders. It stretches your muscles tight, making you lean back onto your elbows on the desk, sending more shit onto the floor. I stare down at your body instead of your face, deeming that the easiest option to avoid that heavy feeling again. The swell of your breasts, the curve of your waist, the fullness of your thighs, and the pinkness of your cunt. It’s a sight I’d happily choose to stare at for the rest of my life.
Well, shit. That didn’t work.
“What’re you doing?” you speak, questioning my frozen gaze, laughter evident in your voice.
“Nothin’… You’re just absolutely gorgeous,” my voice is low, quiet, and I mean every fucking word.
“Shut up,” you laugh, a light in your eyes.
“Oh? Getting mouthy on me now, are you?” I tease. “You know what mouthy girls get?”
I grab the base of my cock and use my hold to drag my tip through your drenched folds. You gasp, but try to hide the reaction. It just makes me smirk.
“What do they get?” you egg me on, already needy and breathless again.
And my restraint snaps.
I spear myself into you, bottoming out in the first stroke. You choke on a moan, back already arching up into the air. Masterpiece.
“They get fucked.”
Your short laugh gets cut off by a whining noise when my hips start to move me inside of you. Rolling and thrusting, giving no chance for a breath. My hands move from your waist to your ass, lifting it off the desk and gripping both cheeks. I watch as your tits bounce with every thrust, transfixed. I already know I’m not gonna last. Especially when you’re reaching up to palm yourself.
I slam into you harder, making the desk shake in tandem with your legs. The sound of our skin slapping together is like music to my ears.
“God, you take me so well, baby…” I groan, watching the scene between us. The ease in which my cock slips in and out of your heat, like it was made to fit here. “So fucking tight. So perfect.”
“Fuck! Right there!” you yell, and I listen, always when it’s said in that tone.
I continue hitting you deep inside, not straying from the spot that made you scream. You start to squirm against the desk, desperate for more. So, I drag one of my hands back to your front and let it slip between your legs, rubbing slow strokes over your clit. Your pussy clenches around me and I know you’re close.
“Gonna come, baby? Gonna come all over my cock like a good girl?” I taunt, hips picking up speed as my own pleasure chases me down.
“Y-yes…” Your back arches, hips grind, and eyes nearly roll back.
“Good. Cause I’m gonna fill you up so good, baby, I’ll be dripping from you for the next week.”
I start to grunt as it becomes a struggle not to lose my tempo, pleasure taking over. But I need to make sure you cum first. I rub your clit faster, watching as your hips lift and writhe against my thrusts.
“Come for me… Let me watch you.”
Your eyes slowly blink open and connect with mine, jaw slack with whimpers escaping you. And with one more thrust, you’re done for. Silent screams, convulsing muscles, and your cunt squeezing the hell out of me. I have to brace my hands on the desk beside your hips as my pleasure slaps me in the face. Strangled moans leave my lips as my hips stutter, my cock pulsing inside of you as I fill you to the brim. Your pussy continues to clench around me, beckoning me to stay forever and milking me dry.
Once I’ve come back to earth, I grab onto your shoulders and lift your back up off the desk. You’re like a ragdoll at this point. You look like you just got a good fucking—which you did. Slowly, your arms come to circle around my neck. I hum in contentment, a bad sign.
I lean in and brush my lips against your neck, feeling you shiver in my hold. My lips ghost a path up to your ear. “You’re mine now…”
“I already was,” you whisper back.
Fuck.
*BEEP*
“Mr. Styles, I have a Mr. Winters on line 3 for you.”
Okay I've been forgetting to praise you, but the fake gf in front of ex wife, arranged marriage after war, and you meet his new assistant !!!!! AMAZING, definitely my new favorite bots. I'm currently using the fake dating in front of his wife one and *chefs kiss*
[OH and I'm manifesting your up and coming music career, maybe we'll unknowingly run into each other in the future, when I get start into acting ;)]
AHHH!!! all creds to the amazing requests for the first two!! (the assistant one was all me😏😏)
hi, i can’t remember if you said the 2 mil special was the last bots you were posting or if you were gonna start to slow down after it??
it was a bit of both.
i used to force myself to write them which made me start resenting it all together, so i’m definitely taking a much needed creative break right now. if i post a bot, let’s say before the year ends, it’ll be something that was my own idea—not a request. my request form is closed and if someone sends one to my inbox it will just sit there until i feel like writing it. that sounds horrible, but that’s where i’m at (and it’s also why i’ve closed them—because i felt horrible about making them sit so long).
i don’t know when/if i’ll post any new bots, but for now i’m focusing on my long form writing.
