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oftenderweapons · 4 years ago

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Papa Noël — Namjoon

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Vixen)

Wordcount: 7.0k

Genre: fluff, smut, engaged rmxr, idol!AU

Rating: 18+

Hello bunnies! Merry Christmas to all of you. I wish you all the best ✨💜

I had to write this thingie because I’m selfish and I had this sort of unholy vision that told me, “you must do it”. And so I did this.

This fic is set on Namjoon and Vixen’s first Christmas together. The two are engaged (you’ll read about that sooner or later). Unfortunately, Vixen had to attend a dinner party at which she couldn’t bring Namjoon (their relationship is still very, very private, and even her parents don’t know who she’s dating, plus they respect her privacy). Namjoon spends the night with his friends, but decides to head back home and wait for Vixen — who is unforturnately late. As soon as she arrives, he is quite eager to warm her up and let her unwrap her Christmas gift. But he’d much rather unwrap her first.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: I’ll be on the naughty list forever after writing this. Swearing, mentions of alcohol consumption, DDLG dynamics/daaddy kink, dirty talking, striptease, lingerie fetish, light foot fetish, very lowkey roleplay, sex toy (glass dildo), oral fixation, masturbation (female receiving) light bondage (satin bow), spanking (with rings... ahem), thigh riding, cum play and cum eating, mentions of oral sex (male receiving), a very emotional proposal, mentions of unprotected sex (never ever ever do that unless you’re 10000% sure BOTH YOU AND YOUR PARTNER(S) ARE CLEAN)

Suggested playlist: I Just Melt - Sabrina Claudio // Short Red Silk Lingerie - Sabrina Claudio // Santa Baby - Ariana Grande, Liz Gillies // I’ll Be Home For Christmas - Demi Lovato // Wishlist - Alaina Castillo

In case you need it, here is my masterlist :)

Enjoy!!!

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Papa Noël (French) — Santa Claus, en. [Daddy Christmas, lit.]

Namjoon sat on the sofa, his naked foot tapping against the plush carpet. For a second he considered what the actual fuck he was doing in his own living room dressed like that, making an absolute fool of himself.

Then he remembered the party your firm had organised for Christmas Eve, and the fact that he couldn’t have attended with you.

He hadn’t asked you to stay home, especially since your mother and father were going to attend too, and your boss and them had been friends for a very long time.

Obediently, you had followed your father’s will, you had put on your delicious blue velvet dress and you had made sure Namjoon saw you secure the little clip of your suspender belt to your stockings.

“I won’t be out late.” You had told him as he knelt and secured the small straps of your stilettos around your ankles.

“I’m a bit mad you’re going to be out, all dolled up, without me.”

“There’s a ring on my finger, Joonie.” You said.

“A ring and no fiancé. How inconvenient,” He murmured, letting his palms climb up the back of your thighs, until they met the naked skin above the elastic band of your stockings. “Aren’t they going to ask questions?” He asked, letting his long middle finger slide against the soft satin of your panties.

“No.” You said. “They know I’m in a relationship. They know I’ll tell them when I deem it appropriate.”

He moved his hand away from your slit, gripping your asscheeks. “Are you ashamed of me?”

“No.” You replied, dry, determined. Damn his paranoia. “You know there’s nothing I want to do more than use you as my toy boy, my future trophy husband.”

He grinned and sunk his nails into your flesh. “I’m just trying to keep you from rumors, my love.” You replied. “Not all the people in there are as discreet as I am.” You cupped his face. “And it’s not like I’m leaving you all alone.”

He nuzzled his face against your lap. “Jin and Angel are coming over at Yoongi and Kitten’s. I was invited,” Namjoon explained, taking his hands out of your skirt.

“I’m glad I’m leaving you in good hands.”

“It’s our first Christmas together.” He sulked.

“You’ll have me all for yourself tomorrow.” You combed his hair affectionately. “You’re lucky my family doesn’t take this Christmas thing seriously.”

“Will I get breakfast in bed?” He asked, raising to his feet and dwarfing you.

You studied his figure with your eyes, observing his cream turtleneck that made his skin tone look like molten caramel, the expensive cashmere so soft under your palms, and then the light brown slacks, the shape of his cock so delicious that you couldn’t hold yourself back from tracing it with the tip of your index finger.

“Will I get breakfast in bed?” You asked, taunting him.

“I don’t think it’s good for my babygirl to have her favourite candy cane first thing in the morning.” He replied, raising an eyebrow and catching your wrist. “I wouldn’t be a responsible daddy.”

“Come on, it’s Christmas.” You replied, whining a little and stretching to reach his mouth.

He grinned as he saw you struggle, his dimple appearing as you kept pushing yourself on the tip of your toes, trying to touch his lips with yours. His nose scrunched and his eyes shrinked to heated slits as he bent his head down, allowing you access before he tightened his hands on your waist and picked you up, lifting you a few inches from the ground while you tightened your arms around his neck.

“I’ll think about it.” He murmured on your lips.

“Please.” You hummed quietly.

His hand slipped down to your ass and squeezed it. “Maybe.”

You pouted and parted from him. “Then I think I might stay out late. Stay at my parents for the night. Mother always arranges beautiful brunches when I stay there. And Magdalene could enjoy me visiting her. You know, our governess. She raised me.” You said, fixing your dress and wearing your faux fur.

“Come home. Eleven forty-five. No later.” He said, wrapping a forearm around your hips and spinning you around; you stumbled a little on your heels with the whole motion and the way he joined his lips to yours in a passionate kiss. “I’ve got gifts to deliver.” He said, parting from you and fixing your lipstick.

“I’ll try.” You said, checking your watch and realising that probably your parents had already sent their driver to get you.

“I have to go.” You murmured, cupping his cheek. “You know there's nothing I wanted more than spending the evening with you.”

“I know. I’ll wait for you.” He said, fixing a small lock of your hair behind your ear.

He accompanied you to the front door and opened it for you. “Have a nice evening, love.”

“You too.” You replied, completely charmed as he set you free like a delicate, gracious butterfly.

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He started getting worried when he realised you were half an hour late. Then forty-five minutes. At midnight thirty-three, he heard some noise at the front door.

There you were, legs wobbly, giggling at the phone. “I’m home. Yeah. Love you too. Stay warm.” You said softly, and then squealed. “No, I won’t choke on my boyfriend’s enormous dick. I’m super late. He’ll kill me.” Another pause. “No, he won’t kill me with his colossal cock. Stop talking about my fiancé’s cock, you slut!” You erupted in a bubbly laugh.

Namjoon felt his disappointment disappear, just slightly.

“You could always go choke on Taehyung.” Pause. “Stop rubbing that on my face. I am TINY! It’s not my fault.”

Namjoon heard your snort-laugh. The one you used only with your closest people. He realised you were on the phone with Lace. He relaxed even more. “Gotta blast. Love you. Merry Christmas, you hoe.”

You giggled again as he heard you try to take off your shoes before you lost your balance, leaning on the wall. You hissed and cursed at the shoes. He heard the sound of you taking off your coat. And then you appeared, beautiful, so innocent, standing in the soft light of the Christmas Tree.

And there he was. Sitting on the sofa. Legs parted wide. Shirtless. Barefoot. In a pair of red satin loose sweatpants with white furry hems at the ankles. And a Christmas hat.

You swooned.

“You’re late, little fox.” He said, pinning his forearms to his thighs and leaning forward.

“I stayed out with Taehyung and Lace. We wanted to call you but I didn’t want to interrupt your previous arrangements.”

Namjoon licked his lips and bit his lower one, rubbing his index finger against his chin. “Jin and Angel kept making sex puns about chimneys and gifts and whatnots. Yoongi literally licked whipped cream off Kitten’s finger.” Namjoon exhaled. “It was painful. To say the least.”

You chuckled as discreetly as you could.

“Is it funny, Vixen?” He asked, tipping his head back. “You’re forty-five minutes late.”

You sucked your lips past your teeth, lowering your head. “Tae and Lace were at the party. We left for a quick drink. We lost sense of time a little.” You said, flustered.

“I was here, waiting for you and you were out with your best friend and her boyfriend, my friend.” He said, crossing his arms and cocking his head to the side. “Are you listening?”

“Yes. Of course. I’m sorry.”

No, you weren’t. You were staring at his biceps, flexing, his chest expanding with ample breaths, his pectorals twitching. The mole on his chest. The path that it drew up the tendon of his neck, joining the other little mole near his collarbone, all the way up to the one below his plump lip. And the way his skin glimmered deliciously at the delicate lights of the Christmas Tree. You were ready to ask him a picture.

In your uterus was currently burning a blue hypergiant star. Just to clarify, 37 times hotter than the Sun.

“You’re not listening.” He said, snickering. “I can see it.”

“I tried though.” You said shyly, pouting.

He smiled and laid against the back of the sofa. “Come here.”

You blinked a couple times, rubbing your hand against your sternum, worried, biting your lip and playing coy. “Can I take off my dress first?”

“Of course, babygirl.” He said, propping his elbows on the pillow behind his back.

You saw his chest stretch and oh’ed at the vision, making him giggle. “Come on, babe.”

You frowned and felt your ankles wobble as you undid the zipper at your side, bending down to lift your dress up from the lower hem, slipping it off from over your head.

It took you a while to orient yourself on your way out of your dress, but as soon as you were free, you placed it down folding it neatly over the coffee table, where you noticed a small package wrapped in red paper and a big ribbon.

“Is that mine?” You asked, batting your lashes at Namjoon.

“Yes, darling.” He said, his eyes skimming your entire form. “Are you tipsy?” He asked, worried.

“A teensy, tiny bit.” You said. “Literally one glass of champagne, a spoonful of punch and a glass of wine with Tae and Lace. Nothing more.” You said, easing his nerves. He didn’t like when you drank — only because you’re a lightweight and he doesn’t want you to get sick.

He smiled softly as you listed the drinks. “It’s okay, buttercup. I’m not trying to control you. Just making sure that you can take me.”

You bit your lower lip, nodding.

“You look delicious, sugardoll.” He said, now finally focusing on your attire.

You smiled cutely and fixed your hair. “You like it?”

“I do, babylove.” He said. “Let me see it from up close.”

You walked closer to him, standing in between his legs.

“Come on, give me a little twirl.” He said, placing his hand on your waist and helping you make a small, slow spin. You still had your heels on, after all. Just the way he liked it.

“Let’s take off the big girl shoes, yes? That way you can be all tiny and barefoot for daddy.” He said, finding your wrists and placing your palms on his naked shoulders.

His skin was so hot. To the touch too.

“Give me your foot, baby.” He said, looking up at you.

You felt like crying. In the best way possible.

You complied and his big fingers struggled a little with the small clasp before he managed to free it.

The other shoe was easier. He diligently placed the stilettos out of the way, by the side of the sofa. “Next these.” He said, laying his hand on the back of your thigh and placing your foot between his legs, so close to his cock, currently laying across his lap, half mast towards his left hip. You noticed he still had a set of rings on, including the one shaped like a thick bear head, which he had bought in honour of the nickname you had assigned him.

He fought with the clip of the suspender belt, vaguely knowing that he should look for a small clasp on the upper elastic band of the stockings, but not knowing how to undo them. He still had a lot to learn, he realised.

Your spindly fingers assisted him, showing the procedure. “There’s a rubber nub, inside. It grips the stocking and blocks it inside the metal frame, on the outside. You just need to slide the nub out of the frame.” You explained, showing him.

He observed the movement of your fingers, the suspender strap snapping free.

“There are other three. You can practice.” You smiled gently.

He looked at your sweet face, at your eyes glittering in the Christmas lights. He was completely in love. Enchanted. Head over heels.

He turned his eyes down, looking once more at the suspender strap on the other thigh, caressing your naked skin with the back of his index and middle fingers before hooking them under the fabric of your stocking, spotting a flat rubber surface. That must be the back of the nub. With his thumb, on the outer side, he spotted the nub, hooked in the small metal frame, covered in nylon. He slid it upwards and felt the strap snap.

“Just like that, daddy.” You said, removing his hat with a smile and caressing his hair. So soft. It smelled like cedarwood, vetiver and patchouli. It smelled like safety, home, reassurance. Passion. Unconditional love.

You led his hand to the back of your thigh and he percurred the length of the elastic strap to the hem of your stocking.

You exhaled and closed your eyes as you felt his fingers on your nude leg.

With the left side undone, he placed your leg down and picked up the other, laying it directly on his lap, where you felt his hardening sex under the sole of your foot. “Don’t press down, babygirl.” He said, making a quick work of the last clasp before looking up at you.

“Good boy. Quick learner.” You said, caressing his face.

He closed his eyes and pressed his cheek into your palm. His hands flew to your waist and held you there as he scooted closer to the edge of the sofa, coincidentally pushing his cock into your foot.

However, his focus wasn’t there. His target was your inner thigh, which he licked elegantly, suavely, before moving his mouth along you leg, gripping the hem of your left stocking with his teeth and slowly pulling at it, making the nylon roll down your leg, until it reached your calf. You lifted your leg for him, bringing your ankle and then your foot close to his mouth. He laid back against the sofa, the black sheer stocking dangling from his mouth as he stared at you and cocked an eyebrow teasingly.

You giggled and squealed at the vision.

“I hope my feet don’t smell.” You chuckled.

He pouted. “You never really smell.” He said after letting the garment fall from his mouth. “Really. Your sweat never smells.” He said accompanying your leg down and picking up the other. “And I’ve made you sweat a lot. I would know.”

Again he grabbed your stocking with his teeth, tugging it harder this time, since it looked stuck to your skin. With your assistance, he pulled it all the way down, this time letting it fall straight away to place a kiss on the curve of your foot.

“You’ve got the prettiest little footsies.” He murmured. “They’re babylike. So soft. So small.”

“It’s your feet being exceedingly big. I’m medium sized.” You replied, placing both your feet on the floor.

“Wow.” He said, staring at you. Now he had time to study the deep red silk slip you had been wearing under your dress, with its delicate white lace applications on your chest and on the lower hem. “I’m the luckiest man alive.”

You giggled, embarrassed before pulling a cocky move, slipping your hands under the silk gown and hooking your thumbs into the sides of your thong, wiggling your hips as you pulled it down and bent to Namjoon’s waist, tucking the accessory into the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Now you’re the luckiest.” You said, grinning at him mischievously.

He simply raised his eyebrows, mouth wide, perfectly still for a couple seconds before he leaned his head to the side, looking away, his lips curling up in the smallest smile, making eye contact with you and shaking his head.

“Don’t think I forgot you being forty-eight minutes late.” He said, leaning forward as you placed your foot on his knee, parting your legs just enough to let him sniff at your wetness.

“But Santa, dearest, I’ve been a good girl all year.” You said, placing your foot down again and pressing your hands to your lap, bending one knee slightly and letting your body twist a little, side to side.

You looked like the sweetest, cutest little girl in Namjoon eyes, playing coy, acting shy, feigning innocence and conquering him with all your little charms.

“And you’ve already brought me my gift. Wouldn’t it be cruel to take it away?” You asked, furrowing your brow and pushing your lower lip forward in the most adorable expression.

“Take your gift, then, darling.”

Your face sparked up, and you turned quickly, bending over to snatch your package.

Of course Namjoon, with predatorial reflexes, leaned forward to sink his teeth into the round curve of your ass.

You squealed and stood quickly, a bit surprised. “Joon!”

He simply wrapped his arms around you middle and placed you across his lap, making you sit there, your bent knee offering him the magnificent curve of your hip as he began rubbing the side of your leg.

For a moment, your eyes closed and you snuggled into his warm, strong chest. “I’m sorry, I used your lotion.”

You sniffed him and melted, rubbing the side of your face against his shoulder.

“You’re so… mhhhh.” You moaned, speechless.

His chest rumbled with a deep, silent laugh. “You like it, babylove.”

“I love you.” You replied, looking him in the eye.

He kissed your forehead sweetly. “I know, babylove. Open you gift, princess.”

You kissed him on the cheek, his dimple making a brief apparition before you focused on the ribbon, tugging at it gently, using your nails to undo the knots.

“It’s Lace’s doing. The package.” You said, noticing the small details she always inserted on her special orders from the atelier. You had seen her fabricate the small treasures yourself.

Namjoon snorted in surprise. “It is.”

“Is it lingerie?” You asked, beaming up and looking at him.

“No, Vixen, open your present.” He said, slightly frustrated as you took your time. Sometimes dealing with you could be a true test of patience for him. Still, he loved you more than everything. And dealing with a brat like you required patience. His best assets in taming you were patience, brains and ruthless gentleness. The more you lost your cool, the more he became icy in his stubbornness and determination.

Your brow creased with curiosity as you ripped off the paper. The box underneath was plain white leather, designed like a jewellery box, but more curious, especially once you spotted the double crosses on the lid.

Could it be��?

You looked at Namjoon and lifted the lid.

Inside, the case was covered in black silk, and right there, laying on a small pillow, you saw the fanciest, most elaborate toy you had ever set your sight on.

“You like it, sugardoll?” He asked, pressing a kiss to your temple, looking at your face, studying your expression and trying to read your reaction.

“Daddy?” You asked, turning to him, tilting your head to look at him properly.

“Yes, doll?”

“Why was there Lace’s signature package on it?”

“I had it commissioned through her. She knows the artist.” He explained. “She made the package since I’m helpless at those.”

“You had it commissioned?” You asked, eyes wide in amusement.

“For you, yes. A candy cane for my sugar doll.” He explained, moving your hair out of your face.

“Thank you, daddy.” You replied, politely and gratefully.

“It’s okay, my love.” He said, his hand still rubbing your outer thigh while his free palm moved to your neck, his index finger moving your chin towards him, his lips landing on yours chastely.

“It’s really, really pretty.” You said, moving your stare back to the box.

“It was made for my pretty girl.” He said, running his nose against your cheekbone. “Would you like to try it?”

You nodded.

He grinned. “Then I want you over my knees, little vixen.”

Obeying, you kneeled on the floor, the sofa low just enough that Namjoon’s thighs didn’t press painfully against your belly.

“Are your knees safe, babygirl?” He asked, turning your face towards his.

“Yes, daddy.” You replied obediently.

“Good girl.” He praised you, taking the case from your hands and gripping the toy in his palm.

He tried to relax and keep his erection from becoming too much of a bother. That could and would wait.

Placing the case down, he moved the toy in front of your lips. “You know what to do, little fox.” He said.

Just like that, without even needing his command, you lolled your tongue out, covering the glass candy cane-shaped dildo in your drool with long, wide licks. A string of saliva fell on his clothed thigh while he observed the quick work of your tongue lapping at the tip shaped just like that of an actual cock.

“You look so lovely, my little fox.” He said, caressing your hair off your face, fixing the mother of pearl hair-comb that held back your long locks from your face, holding it with two fingers, so delicately, trying not to break it as he pushed it back into your hair. “I can only imagine how many people were drooling for you tonight.”

You looked at him while he rubbed the tip of the toy against your mouth, your lips naturally parting and wrapping around the glass, becoming even fuller and plumper.

He could barely resist himself as he looked at you, laying there, with your wide, innocent eyes, your lashes fluttering like feathery little wings, and your mouth, so dirty and sinful and absolutely lascivious.

He yet had to understand your pure-depraved ratio. It was something he felt but couldn’t explain.

And most of the time it was not one, nor the other that set him off, but rather the combination and absolute divergence of the two.

You bobbed your head slightly, still staring at him, and for a second he thought ‘what if it were not a toy, what if it were another man? What if i were holding him while she took him in her mouth, and she kept her eyes on me?’

You saw his nostrils flare, his chest expand, his whole posture becoming even more magnificent.

You pulled the toy off your mouth. You bit your lip. “What are you thinking?”

“If it was another man in your mouth.” He admitted, caressing your ass through your silk slip, the smoothness of the fabric making the weight of his hand glide freely on your lower back before he lifted up the garment, exposing the curve of your ass, your slick folds.

He massaged your naked skin, extremely glad that he was wearing rings only on one hand.

“I don’t want that.” You said, as soon as he made eye-contact with you.

“What, Vixen?”

“I don’t want another man. Ever.” You said, and it wasn’t a praise, it wasn’t a lure, and it wasn’t flattery. “I only want you.” You said, your hand wrapping around his ankle as it was the only part that you could hold on to, his hands busy and your palms too small for his thighs and calves.

He rubbed your ass a couple times. “Daddy would never allow anyone else, babylove.” His hand cupped your heat, his palm laying on the seam of your butt while his middle finger found your clit easily. He felt your wetness spread over his middle finger, coating it as he drew it between your labia. “You and I have something special, little fox. It’s only ours.” He kissed the top of your head. “You trust daddy?” He asked, his expression warm as he addressed you.

“Yes, daddy.”

“Daddy will slip his finger in now, babylove. Would you like that?”

You nodded, again, “Yes, daddy.”

Slowly he drew his middle finger inside, one knuckle at a time.

You purred as you felt him draw out slightly and turn his wrist, his digit finding your cervix and drawing its outlines.

“Joonie...” You murmured, opening your mouth and stretching your neck to reach the toy.

He toyed with you, placing it before your mouth and pulling it away just as your lips skimmed the material, repeating the taunt a few times, grinning as you turned and glared at him.

“What the— Oh! Fu—!”

You said, ready to scold him but changing your mind as he added a finger inside, Shutting your mouth mid-swear.

He thrusted his fingers hard. “I have told you many, many times, that when you’re naked in front of me you must never, ever swear, little one.” And he punctuated each word with a crook of his fingers, adding another as he murmured, very slowly, ‘little one’.

You whined around the dildo, frowning as you writhed over his knees.

“What do you say, Vixen?” He said, removing the toy.

“Sorry, daddy.”

“Good girl.” He replied. “Do you think you’re stretched out enough for your toy, babygirl?” He asked, massaging his fingers slowly and delicately inside you.

You nodded eagerly. “I want it, please daddy.”

“Such a polite little thing.” He cooed, removing his fingers, letting them hover over your ass, while he teased the glass tip over your slit, rubbing it up and down, letting the first inch in.

“Oh, Joon—”

“Easy, darling.” He said, rubbing his thumb against your tailbone, keeping his wet fingers off your skin, trying to keep you as clean as possible while also trying to comfort you.

“It’s big.” You said, digging your nails into his ankle.

“It’s not that big, Vixen.” He said caressing your spine and letting the dildo sink into your heat while you hummed, focusing on every ridge of the toy, the spiraling swirls imitating the candy cane giving you a completely new sensation.

Namjoon bent down to place a small kiss on the mole on your asscheek, sinking his teeth around it. “You have the most incredible butt in the whole universe, little thing.” He said, placing another small kiss on it. “So damn beautiful.”

“Daddy...” You cried out once he fed all of the shaft into you, leaving only the handle to hang out.

“Careful now, baby fox.” He said as he gave the toy a slow twist, just like he had with his wrist before, twisting the hook of the handle toward your front, letting it brush against your clit.

“Oh my god, Joon.” You whispered.

“Relax, baby.” He cooed, raising his upper body and bringing his forehead to your temple. Next he brought his wet fingers to your lips.

It felt obvious for you to open your mouth and let him place his fingers on your tongue.

“Can you taste how sweet you are, ____? How fucking sweet your cunt tastes?” He asked. You let your tongue slither and slide through every crevasse between his fingers, where your taste hid best, and then you set your target on simply sucking, making sure that his fingers came out clean, only drenched in your drool.

“I can never part from it.” He murmured, choosing that moment to take his digits away and turn your face so his tongue could caress your lower lip and entangle with yours, trying to steal the taste of you from your mouth.

“I’m never letting another man have your mouth. Taste your sweet, precious pussy. Feel how fucking good it feels to move inside your tiny body. My pretty doll.” He praised you and reassured you possessively, his thumb rubbing your lips.

“Daddy?” You called innocently.

“Yes, baby.” He replied, dragging his slippery fingers against your ass seducingly.

“Would you please spank me?” You asked, batting your eyelashes at him.

He raised his eyebrows before he wore a lopsided smirk that made his dimple pop up. “You’d like me to?” He asked, his voice decisively happy.

“If you want to?” You replied, crossing your arms over his thigh and laying your head there.

“Shall we go for sixteen, babe?” He asked, considering that he wanted to simply arouse you before he moved on to his actual goal.

“Okay.” You replied, knowing that you could do better, but acting smart and restraining yourself from wanting more, not knowing how it would feel like with the toy.

“Count them for me?” He asked, patting your head, moving your hair aside.

You nodded obediently before he lifted his hand, your eyes shutting, waiting for him to hit you, just before you felt his hand land on you softly, his stomach moving with a silent laugh after he tricked you.

You pouted and looked at him and just like that he delivered the first smack, making you howl, your inner muscles clenching and moving the dildo just enough for it to tickle your clit.

He kept touching your hair as his hand pressed the toy into you.

“One.” He said, pinching your ass, inviting you to count.

He went on blow after blow, your ass slowly losing sensitivity to the rough impact of his thick rings on your skin. He got rougher at around smack four, when usually he gave you a bit more time before actually going at it hard. Anyway, a small part of your brain, not commanded by arousal and pain, understood and related to his urgency, especially considering how long he hasn’t been acting on the rock-hard cock begging for attention inside his sweats. At hit number nine, you realised his pattern, and how religiously he was sticking to it: smaking your ass, rubbing it for ten seconds, pressing the toy back into you after your inner muscles had pushed it out with the sudden stimulation of his spanks. And repeat

From number twelve, he went all out, trying to give it to you exactly the way you want it and need it. Harsh, merciless, torturously good.

“Sixteen,” you called, exhausted as he fixed the toy inside, your ass burning under his touch, his other hand laying on your head, caressing it like you were nothing short of his pet.

“Are you okay, babylove?” He called, bending to your ear, nibbling on your earlobe.

“Yes, just...” You took your time. “It burns a tiny, tiny bit.” You said, trying not to worry him.

And still he freaked out. “Okay, would you like your cooling gel? Cold pack? I tried to go easy but a—”

“Stop worrying, big bear. I’m okay.” You said, patting his leg in a reassuring way. “But there’s something bothering me a little...”

“What is it, babe?” He asked, cupping your cheek, ready to reassure you.

“What if instead of running away to grab my lotion, you just stayed here and used that fancy candy cane to make me cum?” You said. “I’m so close, I just need you to touch my clit a little, please, daddy!” You tried to convince him.

Your hand stretched back, spreading over his beautiful chest and sliding down towards his crotch.

Lovingly, he caught your hand in his, stopping it over his chest. “Anything you want, precious.”

He kept your hands trapped to his chest, keeping it still and grinning at you mischievously once you tried to slide it down toward his abs. However, the other one moved to your ass, his upper body leaning on it as he blew cold air on it. “I’m gonna twist it around,” he said, placing his hand on the handle and pulling it out just enough to turn the handle toward your ass. He brought your hand down, catching the other one too and placing them on your back, putting your wrists together, quickly grabbing the red satin ribbon you had unwrapped from your Christmas gift.

“I’m simply going to tie it up like shoelaces, Vixen. No fancy business, I promise, but don’t tug at it. Do you understand, baby fox?”

“Yes, daddy.” You replied, staying still as you felt the delicate material against your wrists, his fingers making a quick bow out of the ribbon.

“Is it okay, ____?” He asked, his voice telling you that it was Namjoon and not daddy talking to you.

“Yup, all good.” You said simply.

“Perfect. I just want you to cum as soon as possible, Vixen.” He said, getting to work between your legs. “Like this?” He asked, placing his digit at the apex of your labia, but needing your guidance in finding your clit.

“Just a bit to the left.” You said. “My left.” You added, and he followed with microscopical movements, knowing he had found the right spot when he slid a tiny fraction downwards and you mewled his name, squealing.

“There it is,” he said, wrapping his free hand around the handle of the dildo and thrusting with small movements inside you, making sure that you were still wet and that he didn’t hurt you.

“Keep going with both.” You said, your brow furrowing. “I need...”

“Need to make it wet, sorry baby.” He said, moving his finger away from your clit and putting it in his mouth, tempted to slide it in with the toy, but too worried about messing up your climax. He immediately found your clit again, toying around it a little before finding the spot that made you tug at your wrists and arch your back, your hips starting to move on their own accord.

“Like that, Vixen. Take what you need, baby.” He said, his arm a bit uncomfortable at the angle as he thrusted the toy inside you; nevertheless, he kept going, determined on seeing you come undone.

Which happened, finally. Your mouth opened in a strangled cry before you pressed it to his clothed thigh, suppressing a scream.

“That’s it, baby fox. Feels good?” He asked just as you writhed, trying to escape from his digit on your clit, quickly pushing you into overstimulation.

“Too good.” You replied, turning your head to the side. “Stop, please.”

“You know the word, Vixen. ‘Stop’ ain’t getting you nowhere.” He said, feeling his dick twitch as you begged.

“Mint.” You spoke softly into his leg, escaping his wicked ministrations.

His hand moved away from your sensitive spot.

“I want you.” You murmured. “I’m close, but I want to be near you.” You looked at him with your eyes barely open, your breath wild, your heartbeat wild against his leg. “Not like this.” You called, wiggling your fingers.

He tugged the toy out, placing it on top of the ripped paper of the package not to mess the sofa, then pushed it out of the way. His fingers tugged at one of the strings, careful not to jam the knot. Soon your wrists were free and he helped you on your knees, raising your torso.

“Easy, love.” He said, twining your fingers together as you stood up, making sure that you didn’t get dizzy by standing up too fast.

Soon one of his hands let go of yours, his forearm wrapping behind your back and pulling you into him, making you kneel on the sofa. “Straddle my thigh, babygirl.” He said with a low, rumbling timbre.

“Gonna mess your fancy Santa slacks.” You said, smiling confusedly.

“We can wash them for next year.” He replied, his skin burning as your front connected with his. He pressed your hand into his, against his chest, pulling you closer as your wetness connected with his strong thigh.

“I’m already close.” You said, nuzzling into his neck, under his jaw, kissing the small mole.

“Really, uh?”

“You stopped when I was on the edge, before, after the first.” You said, parting from his throat and looking for his lips with your eyes closed, your hips already rolling back and forth on him.

“You’re a vision, babe.” He said, hitching your slip dress up, so he could look at your mound, at your hips, riding him as you ruthlessly chased your pleasure. “You were close close, uh?”

You nodded, sucking his lower lip into your mouth, his left hand sprawled over your left asscheek, gripping it and helping you ride him.

“Yes,” you sibilated as you felt his nails sink into you. You arched your back even more, your movements turning into small circles once you felt his quadricep flex, your clit connecting fully with the satin of his trousers. “So good. I need— I love your thighs.” You said, rambling helplessly as your free hand went into his hair, tugging it gently and letting your fingers slide down, with a delicate scratch of your nails, running around his neck and jaw and touching his cheek, parting your face enough to look him in the eye, waiting a few seconds for your gaze to focus on him.

“Mhmh,” he said, smirking, helping you quicken your pace. “I love you, babe.”

You nodded and tipped your head back, pleasure rolling down your spine, pooling at your core.

With your throat right in front of his face, Namjoon bent forward, his lips zeroing in on the point where he could feel your pulse and focusing there, sucking and nibbling at your skin while your mouth opened in a whine that quickly turned into a thin mewl. His nails clawed at your ass, squeezing it tighter now that you were deep into your high.

He kept his mouth at your neck, a deep bruise blooming on your skin, parting from you only when he felt your hips slow down and halt.

“It was the prettiest sound you’ve ever made on top of me.” He said, bringing your joined hands to his lips and kissing yours, his other hand letting go of you, soothing the skin he had manhandled so thoroughly.

Your hand toyed with the messy locks of his hair before sliding down to his front, touching his skin feverishly while he hugged you to him.

You were tempted to stay in the warmth of his embrace as you kissed the skin of his pectorals.

“I have a Christmas gift too.” You murmured, trying to untuck his face from your loose, wild hair.

“Stay here. Ride me.” He said, his forearm flexing and squeezing you to his front.

“Want you to open it first.” You said, nipping at his nipple, which convinced him to let you go.

You quickly stood up and took a couple steps toward the Christmas tree, dipping your arm in and wincing as you felt the small synthetic needles prickle your arm.

“You hid it in there?”

You looked at him and nodded, feeling for a small box with your fingers, cheering once you found it.

You retracted your arm as quick as possible and sauntered towards him.

“I didn’t do a nice package,” you explained, embarrassed.

“What…?” He said as you kneeled between his parted legs.

“We said stuff. On our trip.” You said, remembering your quick getaway. “But it was mostly you who did the talking.” You continued, looking down. “Now it’s my turn to speak.” Your eyes met his. “I’m gonna make an honest man out of you, someday.”

His lips turned into an ear-to-ear grin,

“I’m gonna love you as much as my small body allows, and my heart will stop the day I stop loving you. I’m gonna give you a home.” You said, getting emotional as you saw a tear slide down his cheek. “And I’m gonna give you children.” You stretched to dry the small silvery droplet rolling down his face. “I’m gonna make a dad of you.” You said, parting from his face only long enough to open the small box. “But first I will introduce you to my parents.” You said. “My fun relatives and my boring ones too.” You looked at the thick dark wooden band lined in black tungsten. “All my annoying colleagues.” You arched your brows. “And the ones I like much better.” You broke down as you imagined what would come next. “I’d walk down the isle dressed in white for you.”

“Yes.” He said, not even letting you finish. “Yes. Yes, a thousand times yes, ____.” He was crying shamelessly by now, sliding down to the floor and hugging you to his chest.

“I’d walk through hell with you. Hell would feel like heaven with you.” You said, sobbing. “And heaven would feel like hell without you. Marry me, Namjoon.”

“Yes, baby.” He said, kissing your forehead and your lips with both your faces wet with tears. “Put that damn ring on me, princess.” He said, parting from you and giving you his right hand.

Completely excited, your hands trembled as you extracted the wide wooden band, put down the box and placed your hand under his, your forefinger and thumb sliding the ring into his finger.

“You’re shaking, little fox.” He said, hugging you to himself, his eyes studying the ring as you disappeared into his chest, his chin propped on top of your head as his eyes perused the dark wood, protected by a thick layer of lacquer.

“I mentioned to my parents that I’d like to introduce you to them.” You said, shyly. “In January. As soon as you’re done with the shows and everything. I told them I would like to have dinner, all together.” You said, looking up at him. “We didn’t like… Choose a date or anything. I told them we could have dinner, a weekend or another.”

“I’d be honoured.” He said, smiling at you gently.

You stared at him in silence for a couple seconds.

He closed his eyes, steadying himself for what you were about to say, knowing that it would very likely be something completely inappropriate. That’s how you deal with stress.

You licked your lips and giggled at his expression. You knew it so well.

“Is it the wrong moment to say I want my fiancé to ram my stomach with his huge, thick, enormous and delicious cock?”

“You’re fucking filthy and adorable. Up,” He said, holding you by the waist as he helped you stand up and climb his body.

Your arms wrapped around his neck and he held you up with his forearm while his hand dipped into his sweatpants. You mouthed at his jaw. “Please...”

He groaned as he entered you slowly, making you slide down and onto him.

“Feels perfect...” You whimpered as he held you still, breathing through his teeth.

“It will feel even more perfect while I fuck my fiancée stupid on our bed.” He said, making his way to your room. “Merry Christmas, babe.”

“Is Santa gonna cum in my chimney?” You asked with an amused expression.

He shook his head in disbelief and then wore a small smile. “Gonna stuff you like a stocking.”

You squealed and giggled, “Merry Christmas, indeed.”

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