#bdsmrelationship

Just under one hour.

"You're awake." The voice comes from somewhere near the door. You crane your neck, wrists already testing the leather restraints, and watch him step into the faint light. You don't know his face. But you recognize the way his eyes move over your body. Roaming. An inventory assessment.

He's carrying things. Metal glints.

"The rules are simple," he says, approaching the bed. His footsteps are unhurried. "When the timer hits zero, I undo the restraints. The door opens. You leave." He pauses at the edge of the mattress, looking down at you. "One small addition."

Cold metal touches your nipple. You gasp as he fastens the clamp, the bite sharp and immediate, radiating heat straight down to your core. The second clamp follows. You arch involuntarily, straining against the leather.

He produces a vibrator. Sleek. Expensive looking. You watch him lower it between your legs, watch the silicone part your folds and settle against your clit. He turns it on.

"Every time you cum, an hour gets added to the clock."

Something about a doctor taking advantage of me is so yummy! It really shouldn't be but the idea of going to the doctor and getting fucked is insane. Especially as someone who actually doesn't really like doctors. I wanna walk all shy and nervous into the room. I'm just crazy to get it over with, he tells me to strip but doesn't leave the room. I'm your doctor sweetheart, it's okay but his eyes glance at me like I'm prey.

I always have a hard time getting on the examination table. Having him press his body against me and manhandle me onto it. Me squeaking at how strong he is also because he was just between my legs. His bulge against my bare cunt and the moment he pulls away in squeezing my thighs closed. Him doing regular check up stuff until he starts groping my tits. Telling me I'm being so good as I try not to squirm. Telling myself that this is all normal doctor things.

Lay back for me, spread your legs, and place them right here. He guides me and I try to cover up as I listen. This isn't that kind of appointment why could he be doing this? But I don't dare to question him since he is a doctor, he knows best. We both tug on my gown and he smiles at me, sweetheart... I need you to let go so I can do my job. He says in a sweet tone but his grip is tight as he yanks the gown away. You look all healthy! But I need a more...hands on approach to make sure. This might feel weird, he says as he starts to play with my clit.

Sir! I try to close my legs but he's strapping them down quickly then going back to what he was doing. I know sweetie but it will be over soon, all girls need to go through this exam. I'm panting and trying to behave. Acting like it's not feeling so good as he mutters some fancy medical terminology to say I'm wet. Him forcing an orgasm out of me as I cover my mouth and tear up embarrassed. Everything seems good outside but I need an internal look and then we are all good! I feel his fingers push into me and whimper. He fingers me for a couple seconds before playing concerned.

Looks like I'll need a deeper feel, he sighs and pulls his fingers out. Quickly undoing his belt and pushing them down enough to free his cock. There will be some discomfort but just for a second, okay sweetheart? Wait...sir I don't think I need this part, I try to reason but he's already pushing in. I gasp and grab the table tightly. I hear him moan softly, just right... As he starts slowly thrusting into me. I can feel how healthy you are! You are such a good girl taking care of your body, he praises. Since this is your first check up like this you'll need a special medicine. Special medicine? I whimper as another orgasm is forced out of me.

There could be some side effects of this medicine, okay? He moans softly and tightens his grip on my hips. Morning sickness, cravings, and more... His thrusts become a little more desperate. Before I can get another word out he's fucking his cum into me. I whimper and lay tired on the exam table as he pulls out. He fixed my gown and makes me sit up to look at him. You did such a good job! One of the best girls for her first appointment here. I expect to see you again in a couple months. He's fixing his pants and walking towards the door. The nurse will be in shortly to help you finish up.

This was inspired by these videos that have been my obsession this weekend.

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summary — An embarrassing trip to the ER leaves you sitting under harsh fluorescent lights with a very specific, deep ache. While you try to stay composed under the doctor's questioning, Chan stands by, utterly smug and thoroughly proud of the literal medical proof of how well he fucked you.

Pairing — Bangchan x reader

genre — aftermath of smut, established relationship, teasing/praise, humor

cw/tags — referenced rough/deep intimacy, mild medical settings, cervix bruising (mentioned/diagnosed), strong language, smug!chan, praise, suggestive themes, no explicit acts shown, bdsm behavior.

word count - ~650 words

a/n — this is my first time posting a fic like EVER please tell me what do you guys think of it!!

Two Days Ago || Pre- Hospital Scene (the smutt)

The ER waiting room hums with sterile light and low-grade misery. Fluorescent tubes bleach the color from everything. You’re sitting in one of those awful plastic chairs, legs crossed tightly, trying to look like you have a normal, respectable ache. A UTI, maybe. Anything but the truth.

He’s beside you. He hasn’t stopped smiling for two hours. Not a big grin, but a small, persistent, utterly smug curve of his lips. His arm is draped over the back of your chair, his thumb stroking idle circles on your shoulder.

Every time you shift, trying to find a position that doesn’t send a fresh, deep twinge through your lower abdomen, his smile widens just a fraction.

A nurse calls your name. You stand up, wincing at the movement.

“Easy there, tiger,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear. The heat in it is immediate and embarrassing. He stands with you, a hand hovering at the small of your back as you walk to the triage door.

In the exam room, under the harsh clinical light, it feels even more absurd. The young doctor, efficient and bored, asks about your symptoms.

“Uh… deep, aching pain. Low. Central.” You gesture vaguely.

“Any unusual discharge? Fever?”

“No. Just… sore. Really, really sore.”

The doctor nods, typing. “When did it start?”

You clear your throat. “About… yesterday morning?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him lean against the wall, arms crossed. He’s looking at the floor, but his shoulders are shaking with silent laughter.

The doctor orders an ultrasound. The cold gel, the impersonal press of the wand, the black-and-white screen showing nothing ruptured, nothing torn, just… a healthy, but very angry-looking uterus.

Later, the doctor returns with the verdict. “Well, everything looks structurally fine. No signs of infection or ectopic pregnancy. But there’s some significant inflammation and what looks like a minor contusion… on your cervix.”

The words hang in the air. Contusion on your cervix.

You stare straight ahead, your face flaming.

The doctor, bless her, keeps a perfectly professional tone. “It can happen from… particularly vigorous intercourse or deep penetration. It should heal on its own in a few days. I’ll prescribe a mild anti-inflammatory. Take it easy. Maybe… use a pillow for elevation next time.”

Next time.

You mutter a thanks, unable to meet anyone’s eyes.

“A contusion,” he repeats, his voice thick with pride and amusement. He leans in, his lips brushing your ear. “I bruised your fucking cervix, baby. I marked you so deep the doctors can see it.”

You swat at his chest, but there’s no force behind it. “It’s not funny! It hurts!”

“I know it does,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. His laughter softens into a predatory warmth. He nuzzles your neck. “And I’d say I’m sorry, but we both know I’m not. Remember the way you were screaming? The way you clawed my back raw? You wanted it that deep. You begged for it.”

He’s right. And the memory, mixed with the throbbing ache, sends a treacherous pulse of heat between your legs. The worst part is, he sees it. He sees the flush, the quickening of your breath.

His hand slides down, over your hip, his fingers pressing gently into the sore spot low on your belly. You gasp.

“Hurts here, doesn’t it?” he whispers, his eyes locked on yours. “Every little throb is just a reminder of how good I fucked you. Of how hard you came on my cock.” He leans in, his next words a hot promise against your lips. “And the second this little bruise heals up… I’m gonna do it again.”

He helps you off the table, his arm a solid support around your waist as you walk out, prescription in hand. In the parking lot, under the yellow streetlights, he opens the car door for you.

As you sink gingerly into the passenger seat, he bends down, framing your face with his hands, and kisses you—deep, slow, and thoroughly proprietary.

“Best fuck in a hot minute?” he says, pulling back just enough to speak. “Baby, that was the best fuck ever. And we’ve got the medical bill to prove it.”

The drive home is quiet, filled with his satisfied silence and your aching, proud, thoroughly claimed body. The bruise is a secret, exquisite trophy. And his teasing is the ribbon on top.