#kinkmas 2024

[iniquitousyearning]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S RIDDLEMAS

dec 4th. tom riddle — bondage, begrudgingly!sub tom.

RIDDLEMAS MASTERLIST. | 2024

summary: revenge is sweet—but getting tom riddle to beg is so, so much fucking sweeter.

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, reader gives tom a lust potion in retribution, PIV, desperate sex, tom so out of sorts he doesn’t even know what he’s saying, so much teasing it’s painful, dirty talk, light bondage, choking.

All is fair in love and war.

This might not be love, but it isn't just war, either. It's something messier, something darker, something with teeth. Every time you and Tom Riddle play this game it seems to follow the same trajectory, almost like a dance—step, feint, clash, retreat—a push and pull, a ritualistic give and take until someone takes a little too much and the tension boils over to something like this. 

A locked door. A stolen breath. His body pressing yours into some surface and his hands on your throat, or in your hair, or at your waist with—

"You did something to me." Growled at your neck. 

Right now, expectedly, is no different.

"What could I possibly have done to you?" You drawl, bored blowing off your breath. "The great Tom Riddle himself."

You want to sound dismissive, condescending—just enough to light a match to his already fraying patience—but Tom is too keyed up to take the bait, and that alone thrills you. You can feel the heat radiating off him. Smell the clean, addictive scent of his hair, the musk of dark magic religiously woven into his skin. 

He smells intense, and it makes you dizzy.

Makes you reckless.

"You’re funny," he exhales, the force of it stirring your hair. He's ripping off his jacket now, rolling up his sleeves like he's ready to wrestle the devil himself. "This is your idea of revenge, isn't it?"

There's a shrug, something vindictive set in your shoulders just to get under his skin that much more—spurred on by the sheer state of him before you; those perfect curls a mess, onyx eyes burning with something primal. 

"This, meaning what, exactly?" You watch the corded tension in his neck tighten as he shoves his hair back, hands visibly unsteady. "You'll have to be more specific."

He lets out a stifled groan from somewhere deep in his chest at that—he's struggling, and he knows you know it, a delicious little factoid that has his patience stretched so thin it's almost see-through—

"You're enjoying this," he snarls, forcing himself over to a nearby loveseat and slumping down into it. His voice is half-hoarse, strangled by the effort it's taking him to keep this much distance between you. "You—fuck."

There we go. 

Unable to stall the grin off your lips any longer, you move forward with something predatory—something devious in each step perfectly placed just to spite him—a deliberate sway of the hips, the slight rise and fall of your chest—anything, really, just to break him that much faster. 

He's right. This is your revenge. 

"Oh, Tom," you creep around behind his chair, lips leaning toward his ear. "Are you feeling alright? You're looking hot."

You take note of the way his jaw pulses as he grinds his teeth. The way that one simple word from your mouth—spoken in the type of low, sultry tone that could make even a dead man hard—affects him.

"You're wicked," his head falls back to look up at you, lips glistening like he's salivating over the mere sound of your voice. Still, he's fighting it—still trying to deny you the satisfaction. "Did you know that?"

"You love it," you murmur, fingers slipping their way over his shoulders, down his chest. You lean closer, catching sight of the sharp bulge straining against his trousers. "Look how much you fucking love it."

Another stifled groan. 

"You don't want to do this, sweetheart," he hisses—and there's the nickname, the nickname you've told him you hate. His way of retaliation. "Not now." 

"And why not?" Your fingers dip lower, tracing over the definition of his abdomen. "Because you're not in control? Or because I am?"

He's fighting himself—you see the war play out on his face in the way his brows knit together—the way his lips part briefly only to swallow back whatever words were about to crawl out of them. 

He's never been very good at being at anyone's mercy, least of all yours. 

"You think you're in control," the words rasp against his throat, as if speaking them too loud might shift the balance. "You're delusional."

"Maybe," you whisper, lips brushing his cheek, the curve of a smirk curling into your voice. "Maybe I'm absolutely batshit." Your hand slips downward, slowly, over his stomach to his belt, fingers ghosting the buckle. "But we both know why you dragged me in here, Tom. Don't we?"

He scowls.

"You—" 

The moment you brush against his bulge with the barest touch, his hips jerk forward—words disintegrating, raw instinct betraying his restraint.

"God, look at you." You nearly choke on the heat between you. If this isn't the sexiest fucking thing you've ever seen. "Just admit it, Tommy. Admit you need me to fi—"

You don't get to finish. Something in him snaps—

"Fucking—" he's moving on auto-pilot, hands reaching up to seize you and yank you closer. "—fix this, then." 

In a blink, you're in his lap with his grip on your hips and he's growling—one hand slipping up to the back of your head to fist your hair and force your mouth to his before you get the chance to snap back—

And as soon as your lips collide it's a fight for dominance—teeth clashing as your tongues tangle, both of you biting and pulling at each other like animals. You're grinding against him and he's excruciatingly-hard beneath you and you can practically hear the intensity of it, both of you caught up in the sheer feral force of this—no rhyme or rhythm, no control—just hunger, desperate and unrelenting, like something unleashed that neither of you can put back in its cage.

After all but an eternity of this, you wrench back with force, breaking the kiss and shoving yourself upright. His head falls back against the chair, chest heaving, his lips slick and parted, pupils blown wide and glittering with fury—or lust. You’re sure it’s a bit of both.

He's trying to gain control, his hand still fisted in your hair, arms trapping you in place like he thinks he can still win this. 

But you see him now, raw and undone, and you know better.

"You want me to fix this," you murmur, skating your fingers over his chest lightly enough to make him twitch. "Then put your hands on the armrests."

He wants to fight that, you can tell—wants to yank you back into him, wants to wield that weapon of a tongue—but other things take precedence now, like you, here, on his lap—so close to giving him everything he needs.

You think, to him, the demand must sound less like an order and more like salvation. 

He all but slams his hands down onto the armrests.

You smirk. "Good boy."

Unsurprisingly, he scowls again, a dangerous flash in his eyes—but that doesn't stop his hips from jerking greedily when you grind down against him—fingers digging into the leather underneath them, twitching like they want to make you do it again. 

That doesn't escape your notice. 

"Mm. Just incase." Pulling out your wand, you cast a spell that binds his wrists to the chair. "I know how you are." 

His expression shifts instantly, lips curling back into something like a snarl as he yanks at the invisible binds. They don't budge—your work is seamless—his own spellwork mastered and turned against him.

"I'm going to fucking digest you," he spits, all venom and heat, eyes blazing as he pulls harder. "When I get out of this chair, you'll—oh, you'll beg for-"

You shut him up with your mouth, crushing your lips to his. It's all teeth and tongue, desperate and wild, as your nails rake down his chest and he arches into you—

"Who says I don't like it when you make me pay, baby?" You breathe, biting his bottom lip hard enough to draw a groan from deep in his throat. "Maybe it's my favourite part."

For a moment he doesn't respond—he knows that's true. You love this game too much not to toe the line when possibilities arise. He's pulling uselessly at the binds again as you roll your hips against him, dragging him further into ruin.

"You are," he chokes out, head tilting back as your teeth scrape along his jaw, "an infuriating, wicked little witch."

You huff against his skin, against the pulse point at his throat and the sensitive area under his ear—he's squirming—making strangled, animal sounds that have you seeping through your panties. 

"You're only just noticing?" You’re drinking in his hypersensitivity for all it's worth. "You're losing your touch."

He scoffs, or tries to—it comes out closer to a moan stuck between shallow breaths. 

"Noticed it...the day I met you," he gasps, hips jerking up as you rock against him. "But, fuck—you've gotten a hell of a lot worse."

Perhaps he's right. Perhaps it's the company you keep—specifically, the one pinned beneath you. 

"You're just mad I'm beating you at your own game," you’re grinding down harder, fingers drifting to the buttons of your blouse. "You're a terrible loser."

"And you're—" he starts, but his words falter when you pull the last button free and shrug the fabric off your shoulders, exposing black lace and soft skin. "—an insufferable winner."

"I think the real problem," you toss your shirt to the floor, hands returning to slide down his chest again, undoing his buttons now. "Is that you secretly love losing to me." 

You'd think that would earn another snarl from him—or perhaps a sharp retort about how he'd never lose to anyone, or how he’d never enjoy being at your mercy—but he's clearly too far gone to keep up with even that as he watches you, all but trembling at your touch. 

"Stop—“ he twitches when your fingers glide over his exposed chest, trailing lower. "—talking."

"Make me," you make your way to his belt buckle, taking your time to undo it, sliding the leather free before moving to the zipper of his pants, dragging it down even slower. "Oh, wait. You can't."

He’s helpless to fight the growl you force out of him at that—a vicious sound that makes you clench. His fingers tighten around the armrests, yanking hard against the bonds holding him in place. Useless, you both know, but it doesn't stop him from trying, from straining against them like he might will them to break through sheer desperation alone. 

He exhales through his teeth. "Stop teasing." 

"Now where's the fun in that?" you dip your hand below the waistband of his boxers. He jerks beneath you as your fingers tease just enough to make his breath catch. "You should be grateful l'm taking pity on you—" your tone as soft as it is mocking, "—being oh so kind to help-"

Another groan, another almost snarl. "Stop. Teasing." 

Oh, how the tables turn. You know precisely how he's feeling—you've been here like this, with him, a million times before. It’s the sweetest torture. One you’re sure he doesn't want you to stop—not really. Not with a lust potion dripping from his pores. 

He fucking needs this.

"And what happensssss," you drag your words out as your fingers glide slow, featherlight strokes up and down his rock of an erection. "If I don't?"

His response is a wrecked string of profanity—some of it strangled, some of it guttural, and none of it in English. He's not even remotely coherent anymore, and you're not surprised. Eloquence had abandoned him long before you'd even stepped into the room.

"I will—" he hisses through clenched teeth as you tease your thumb over his leaking tip, "— fuck—I will fuck your ass so hard—“

Now that gets a moan from you—the filthiness of his words, at the way his voice drops so dark and low it should probably be a fucking felony. He's swearing, writhing, desperate, and you're absolutely dripping from it—from the way Tom Riddle has unraveled into this devastating, feral thing underneath you.

"Is that what you're thinking about right now?" Another murmur, lips brushing against his ear as you shift to tug his pants and boxers down. "Fucking my tight ass? Punishing me?"

"Without mercy," he spits, breath hitching as you free him—his cock springing out, thick and throbbing, twitching in time with his shallow gasps. "Fuck—"

You pull away to get a better look at him—and god, the sight almost makes you lose your mind. The man always so put together, always so self assured and smug and in control of every goddamn thing—reduced to this. 

"Such a vulgar mouth, for such a pretty face," leaning forward, you lick a slow, deliberate stripe up his neck. He tastes like sweat and sin. Just how you like him. "Tell me more."

"Fuck," his head tips back involuntarily, exposing his throat to you like it's instinct. He's twitching as you grind your slick heat along his shaft, soaking him, teasing him until his hips buck up against you. "Put me inside you—"

You're barely holding onto yourself, every roll of your hips against him leaving you dizzy and aching—but you drag it out, grinding down harder.

"That's an order, isn't it?" You breathe, catching his earlobe between your teeth. "You giving me orders now?"

"I'm giving you pleas," he rasps. "You fed me a potion that's made me so hard it physically aches, and now you're sitting here—fucking teasing me—"

"Retaliation," you reply with a smile. "You're the one who thought it was a good idea to feed me a truth serum before dinner at Malfoy's."

That night still lingers in both of your minds—things involuntarily said that can't ever be unsaid. Things that still make Draco avoid your eyes at every turn.

"A mistake," he grits out. In any other moment, you know he'd be smirking. "A mistake—I'll admit it, fuck-"

"You're not the type to make mistakes," it’s a true statement, one overridden by the feeling of his dick twitching as your hips still, going maddeningly idle. "You wanted the Malfoy’s to know I'm yours. And now, well, now I have to show you that you're mine."

There’s a moments pause at that. One that makes you realize just how loud your pulse is pounding in your ears. Tom looks at you, holding your eyes until—

"I am," he concedes, finally throwing in the towel with a gasp that's half desperation, half devotion. "Yours. So fucking take what's yours."

"Oh, baby," you purr, cupping his cheek in your palm. He leans into it without realizing, like he's starving for your touch. "I always do."

And with that, you rise up—slick soaked inner thighs leaving damp spots against his half pulled down trousers—humming with a smirk as you slide a hand over his chest, nails raking over his skin, holding him down against the chair—

"Be still," an order. "Or I'll take it a hell of a lot slower."

His whole body shudders at that—but does what he's told and keeps still—chest swelling with each shallow breath as he watches you—dark eyes flicking from your lips to your tits to your cunt—muscles straining and wrists firm against their binds. 

"Just—do it," he mutters through parted lips and clenched teeth—squeezing his eyes shut. "Please."

The world stops. Time freezing to nothing. You swear you'd forgotten how to breathe.

Please. Like it's a holy thing, a sacred word to be used only in worship. Like he's said something he's never uttered in his life. Please. Like a prayer, like a begging benediction. You'd never loved the sound of anything from his lips quite like you do that. 

You will hear it again. You long to make him say it until he forgets every other word he knows.

"How could I refuse that?" His eyes fly open as you reach down, gripping his aching length and gliding the head against your soaked slit. "Fuck, you're so big. So hard."

"Hard," he echoes as his hips buck involuntarily, seeking more friction. "Because this is—torture."

"And whose fault is that, Tommy?" You taunt, just barely sinking down, letting the tip of him sit against what you know he wants. "Oh, that's right. Yours."

"Mine," he grunts before his patience finally snaps in half and he jerks his hips up—shoving his cockhead inside you with a strangled moan. "Fucking mine."

Oh, Merlin help you.

Your head falls back with a moan, eyes slipping shut as the sensation steals the breath from your lungs. He stretches you in the way only he can, and for a moment, you think you should punish him for disobeying you by taking back control—but you can't bring yourself to care about anything other than how fucking good it feels.

"Yours," you breathe, rolling your hips to take him just an inch deeper. "All yours."

"More," his voice cracks, the veins in his neck straining. "Take more. Please."

Theres the word again—please. It makes you weak, makes you greedy. Makes you break and give in on the sheer knowledge of how much it fucking pains him to say it. 

"Oh, gods"" you moan, shifting your hips to take him deeper still, inch by aching inch. "Fuck."

"Take it," he sneers, as if it's his turn to taunt you. Even like this, he's still the same bastard. "You can take more than that."

You curse lowly and sink your nails into his chest for it—because it's the kind of challenge you can't win, even like this you know you'll still lose. He knows it too. 

"I can," you hiss, sinking another inch deeper, and then another. "But can you?"

"Can I?" There’s a mocking lilt to his voice that knows. "Release my wrists, and we'll see."

Christ. That's a question you don't want to answer because you know anything other than yes would be a lie. It's tempting. You know as soon as you let him go he'd put those beautiful hands to use—he'd take back control and you'd immediately let him. Like a lamb to the slaughter. 

Even if this is supposed to be his punishment.  

"Be," you gasp, sinking down all the way and clenching tight as he kisses your cervix. "Quiet."

He lets out a sharp, strangled curse—a guttural string of something you think might either be Latin or Parseltongue—something rough and beautiful all at once—and you decide, right then, that it's undoubtedly the most sinfully delicious thing you've ever heard. 

"I love it when you swear," you manage to breathe out through moans, rolling your hips and savouring the stretch, the ache, the impossible fullness of him inside you. “And I love it even more that it's in languages I don't know—makes me wonder what you're saying."

"Things that'll get me slapped," he grunts, and the tone he uses is the one that promises trouble—trouble, if you let him go. "Or hexed, perhaps."

"Mm. I should hex you right now. I’m considering it," you’re gasping between moans, pleasure buzzing in your brain. "So hard."

"I think, right now," the words split between a groan as your nails leave faint red lines on his shoulders—as you clench around him again, dragging your slick walls up and down his shaft in rhythm. “If you tried to hex me, I’d let you. If it meant you’d keep going.”

You almost take him up on it. You love him like this far too much. So much it’s almost pathetic.

"Good boy." You force the words out, fighting through the sting on your cervix every time he bottoms out inside you, slamming against it. "So. Fucking. Good."

"Jesus Christ," he chokes, muscles taut as the veins in his neck strain. His hips jerk up to meet you at every bounce, greedy for more. "Don't stop."

"Oh, I won't," you dig your nails deeper into his skin for balance. The sting shoots through his body, his reaction delicious. "Not until l've made you swear to every god in the sky."

"Shouldn’t take long," he hisses through his teeth, shoulders cresting as your pace grows faster, more erratic. "I'm practically praying now."

"Good," you breathe, thighs burning as the heat coils tight and relentless inside you, every roll of your hips making you feel fuller, wetter, closer to falling apart. "I want to hear you pray my name."

"You're sadistic," he hisses. "Fuck."

"Pot, kettle," you taunt, biting lightly at the curve of his neck—not hard enough to bruise, but just enough to make him feel it.

The sound he makes—half moan, half growl—is filthy.

"Oh, you like that, don't you?" You murmur, dragging your lips toward his ear, breath molten. "You like pain. I know you do."

"I'd like to inflict some right about now," his voice breaks as you nip at his earlobe. "My hands on your throat. That smart fucking mouth—"

"Mmm," you hum, rolling your hips slower, deeper. "And what would you do with it?"

"Fill it," his voice is broken, head tipping back as his body begs for release. "Fuck. I'm so fucking close."

"You're filthy when you're desperate," you whisper, dragging your hand up to his throat, fingers wrapping around it, squeezing just enough to make his breath hitch. "I fucking love it."

His eyes flash—for a moment, you're not sure how he'll take it—your hand curling around his neck, fingers pressing against the pulse hammering beneath his skin. The unpredictability of him—always teetering between fury and something far more intense—makes you hesitate, even in this state. You wonder if he'll snarl, buck you off, or somehow counteract the spell to rid of the restraints entirely—

But all he does is swallow against it, hips jerking up, cock pressing bruisingly deep—dark eyes fixing on your lips, wild and glassy with want—

And then, he fucking grins. "Tighter."

"Freak," you moan far too loudly, heat pooling low in your belly as you oblige, tightening your grip. You bounce faster, adrenaline fuelling you, panting growing sharper with every wild bounce. "Cum for me."

"Like I have a choice," he rasps, voice shredded, his teeth gritted as his eyes squeeze shut. "Fuck—ffffff—"

The sound he makes when he finally breaks—guttural, filthy, your name torn from his lips—is fucking devastating. Devastating enough to drive you directly to your own orgasm, eyes rolling back and crying out words you aren’t even aware of as he shudders and jerks and tenses underneath you.

"Oh, fuck-yes," you breathe, riding him through it, clenching hard until the aftershocks start to fade out, as you slow your pace. “Tom—“

"God," he gasps, his head falling back in exhaustion, voice stumbling over the word. "God. Fuck."

The incoherence coming from his mouth is a treat—and through your fog, for only the most fleeting of moments, you wonder who exactly he's praying to when he says that.

His chest is rising and falling like he's just run miles, sweat-slick skin glowing in the low light. His head rolls forward, eyes still heavy-lidded, and when they meet yours, there's something feral still dangling in their depths. A lingering hunger that makes your breath hitch.

"That's what you wanted, wasn't it?" He finally speaks after he finds whatever oxygen is left in the room. "To ruin me?"

You're still seated on him, still full of him, and even now, you can feel him twitch inside you. Strong potion.

You exhale with a smirk, feeling your pulse slow. "You're still in one piece, aren't you?"

He laughs—dark, deep, and utterly sinful. It's the kind of laugh that promises you haven't won anything at all. His wrists flex against the bindings, and you swear the leather creaks.

"For now," his tone is almost gentle, but the fire in his eyes betrays him. "But if you think I'm going to let you walk away after this..." he grins. "You're more delusional than I thought."

Oh, Tom. If you only knew.

[sashiavi]

Merry Late Christmas M'Loves! Thank you @birdielouwho for inviting me to this little Kinkmas Event~

And thank you to my wifey Spirit for listening to my bs and helping me get through this monster </3

Sebastian x Reader - Trapped in a Closet With Your 'Unrequited' Crush, Sebastian at a Holiday Party~

Warnings : Tipsy/drunk Sex, forced proximity, stuck in a closet, fingering, cunnilingus, piv, afab reader, some dirty talk, unprotected sex ♡

Word Count - 8.6k

•·············°·············•♡•·············°·············•

Being locked up inside of a stuffy closet wasn't particularly on your list of goals for the night, and yet here you were, barely illuminated by the soft seam of light daring to leak through the cracks of the door. The night air outside was still young and in bloom, voices leaking through the gap under the door with cheers and Holiday joy. You hear the cork to a bottle burst with a pop, a voice shrieking a happy cry as foam inevitably froths over the bottle, spattering to the hardwood floor of the Saloon.

Your own breath feels as if it echoes around you, bouncing off of the built-in shelves lining the closet, hitting you back in the face with a ring paired in your ears. Your back digs into the sharp plastic faux leaves of a holiday wreath, pulled out in the chaos of decorations brought from the very back end of the space, spewing from boxes, unworthy decorations strewn on shelves and wood panel floors - It was a miracle you hadn't shattered a glass bauble under your feet.

You shuffle, knees feeling wobbled and numb, breath punching out from the depths of your lungs, layering the small space in a sickly sweet warmth, hot and humid as if you were trapped in a sauna. Your fingers twirl into thick and dark tendrils of hair, wound into curls with a tight squeeze of your fingers, flexing every time the hard metallic lap of a pierced tongue grazes hot over your clothed clit. Despite the freeze beyond the front door of the Community Centre, the air inside of the closet was thicker than creamy hot chocolate, heated by the dancing bodies of the townsfolk celebrating the late-night festivities. That, and the spiked eggnog you had nursed through the night, settling under your diaphragm and rising up, a flush that kissed your cheeks, skin already bitten sensitive by the cool air on your walk there. And of course the man between your legs had a helping hand with it too - Lengthy fingers grabbing around the soft squish of your thighs, thumbs daring to dig just enough to have you squirming. Sebastian’s hands were slender and elegant, decorated with glinting rings and cracked nail polish, said nails digging loving crescents into the supple soft of your skin.

He had you sighing, swallowing down milky-thick saliva, your eyes catching his own, dark brows furrowed in focus as his lips latched with a smush against your mound, a breath heavy and hot on your cunt.

Now how exactly did you end up here anyway?

There was something of a Holiday Party occurring - A new tradition since the Community Centre had been cleaned up, spacious for the entirety of the town to attend, freely mingling and dancing away with a few pocket groups chatting on the sidelines. The more “Adult-Adults” - The Parents of many young people of the Valley - Congregated by the fire, letting the flicking warmth absorb into their skin, soothed from the chilling bite of the outside with their own fire burning up in their guts, born out of the little treat of alcohol they sipped at. Others mingled elsewhere, spread across the varying rooms, even the children ran and played in the crafts room, welcomed now that festivities didn't have to take place in the depths of the Saloon or the frosty outside of the Town Square.

You were with your usual gaggle of friends; Samson, Abigail and Sebastian, tucked away by the storage pantry, sat on crates and barrels filled to the brim with bits and bobs. You giggle airily at Sam and his usual antics, nursing your cup of eggnog while you shift on your makeshift box-seat, careful to avoid lodging a splinter in Yoba knows where. The vibe was cozy, wrapped in a glowy warm as you look between your friends, a buzz in your tummy leaving your head a little light, lips a tad looser than before.

Your eyes land on Sebastian, propped up on his own crate, chin tilted up high enough to reach the crack of an open window, blowing hot nicotine smoke from his lips into the brisk chill outside. He drags his cigarette hard, the end firing to life with a burn of hot orange, ashes flecking off of the edge before it dies away, smoke carried into his lungs to settle before he blows out once again. He was methodical, practiced in the movements as if he’d sneaked a puff of tobacco before, pierced tongue wetting over his lips, spit surely warm enough to battle the cold kiss of night air reddening his mouth with a blush.

You can’t help but watch him, eyes soft with puppy-love, attention easily slipping away from the present conversation. It was a known fact that you harboured a few feelings for the dark and mysterious man - To you and your other friends at least - Having Samson and Abigail on your back about just asking Sebastian on some sort of date, heck, they’d even offered to set the entire thing up! But there was something that nibbled at your subconscious, a whisper chanting doubts into your thoughts like an earworm, suck on repeat as if it were a bad but catchy song. They assured you, swore up and down that he totally felt the same! But you couldn't let yourself believe it, stuck in a loop of pitiful pining, drooling like a dog with its favourite treat just out of reach, dangled above your head like the sweetest forbidden fruit.

You're snapped out of your trance with a soft kick to your shin, Abigail’s boot tip connecting with the bone enough to jump a startle out of you. She was snickering, and so was Sam, eyebrows raised with a soft mocking cat call, ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ whistled slyly under their breaths lest the other man notice. You pout at them, hiding the expression behind another sip of spiked eggnog, eyes squinted enough to show off your unamusement and potential embarrassment. 

The thick brandy-laced custard slides down your throat with a swallow, adding to the warmth flushing inside your tummy, aided with the bashful sear brought on by Sam’s continued pokes. The alcohol leaves a subtle burn on your tongue, a bubbling in your stomach, turning the sweet and giddy fizz of a crush into something thick and near nauseating. You smack your lips, letting them pout into a small frown, tongue poking past in a childish manner before you let yourself giggle again.

Abigail hops up, sauntering to Sebastian to bum a cigarette off of him, joining by the slight crack of the window on the other side of the room, out of earshot for the next few babbles Sam had for you.

“He looks good tonight, doesn’t he?” Samson ever the lightweight dares to slur your way, cheekily taunting at the crush he knew you harboured for the other man. At first it was all comforts and sweet reassurances, repeating the same lines over and over- Of course you're pretty, of course you're his type, he looks at you too you know? - Until it morphed into not-so-subtle teases and jabs, Sam and Abigail growing tired at the same song and dance of reassurances, opting to wiggle their eyebrows and wink with a coo every time they caught you even glancing at Sebastian. They cared still, obviously, soothed away at the sharp stabs of insecurity that wriggled it’s way past the wall of your inner thoughts and out to them, these days the comforts presented themselves in a sly glance and a knock on your back forcing you to bump into the dark-haired man.

It was true that he did look good tonight; Hoodie swapped for a fitted black button down, coat forgotten at the door with the swallow of warmth inside the building. Piercings all matched with a dark silver sheen with rings to pair on a few of his fingers, bracelets and necklaces tied everything together, sheening behind his unbuttoned collar and rolled up sleeves.

You always hung out with the man in a group, surrounded by the others as a social buffer. Of course you had settled down in Abigail's room many nights past, eating snacks and playing video games until the ranch rooster crowed and the sun kissed its way up and over the horizon. Heck, you'd even spend afternoons with Sam, walking him home from work and staying until dinner, brainstorming music and chatting general nothingness until his mother had politely asked you to head home. 

But Sebastian was another story. How could you invade his sacred space for your own amusement? You could barely open the door to his home for his mother's services without biting your bottom lip and looking at each nail in the floorboards for a distraction, heart tingling at the idea of just seeing him in his natural habitat. A group meant safety, in numbers and outlets, avenues to sprint down in case of an emergency - The emergency being your hopeless and stumbly feelings for him.

Of course you talked to him, chatting away at your interests and his alike, walking drinks from the bar to the pool table with your eyes locked all doe on his face. You had a fair amount in common as well, but that darn bubble in your stomach often kept your feet glued to one spot, a half smile directed towards him in acknowledgement to whatever he would say.

– “You reckon that ring’s new? Looks kinda new…” Sam continues, pondering his astute observation, prying his way past the protective wall you had meticulously crafted surrounding your social body, urging for a comment.

“Maybe..” Your reply is short, safely guarded behind the fear of alcohol loosening your tongue. Sam hums, tilting his head, not at all hiding the fact that he was analysing the man by the window, smoking his way through a conversation, puffs of thick nicotine coming with the replies he had for Abigail before he sticks his head out of the window to blow again. You try not to stare, missing the way Abigail points your way, beaded bracelets on her wrist giving a clacking jingle, her own teasing comments falling off of her tongue with a steady drip of amusement.

“Should ask him.” Sam’s voice chirps again. Subtle teases, as always, trying to push the pair of you together like a girl does with her dolls, announcing the prophet of “Now Kiss!” while smushing their plastic faces together. It had happened once; Sam convinced you to go against him at the pool table, clumsily cracking the triangle of billiard balls with his pool cue, unmanaging to sink either solids or stripes. You admitted you hadn't a clue about how to play, and you were sure you were off the hook until the sunshine boy beams that cheeky, toothy smile at you.

“Sebastian will help!” he had exclaimed, failing to hide his grin when the raven-haired man shrugged and stood from the worn-out Saloon armchair he had been resting in. Though a little initially shy, Sebastian was one to open up with a little push.

That night was something of a struggle. Feeling the warmth of Sebastian's chest laying over your back, lengthy, nimble fingers drowning your own as he guided the pool cue, digits wrapping around the thrumming artery that pulsed in your wrist with a squeeze, just enough to have your head reeling. Click and clack went the sheeny resin balls, sinking into the holes of the pool table with an easy thrust of the cue thanks to Sebastian’s assistance, practically babying you through the process. His cologne stuck to you that night, soft and spicy and barely a hint of sweetness, bled into the threads of your top- Yoba, you’d never properly admit it but you didn’t wash the poor thing for far too long, not until the thick stain had properly lost its essence. The imprint of his body was something unforgettable, towering over your back, chin tucked by your ear, breaths slow and careful, full of focus as he whispered instructions with every turn, guiding your body as if you were his puppet. 

Ever since, it seemed to be Samson’s mischievous mission to pin the two of you together.

There were countless attempts only ending in hot embarrassment, the need to recreate a one off moment only becoming a tangled mess with its execution, like a failed flash mob two counts out of time. But you couldn’t be mad at Sam, in the end he was only trying (and mostly failing) to be your wingman. You squint at him, watching the blonde obnoxiously play with the bar lodged in his tongue, leaned back upon a box from his spot on the floor, eyes fuzzed out of focus in deep thought. Well, as deep as Samson could manage with the clear wash of tipsiness leaking from his body language. He huffs a sigh and chuckles, a goofy, lopsided grin leaning your way before it's hidden by his own sip of his drink, his pierced eyebrow raising as if to dismiss the curious thoughts you had swirling around behind your forehead. 

Sam hops up, a sway in his movement, humming under his breath as he explores a nearby storage closet, spewing out Christmas decor used to add Holiday Charm around the rooms. Ever so nonchalant. He rifles loudly, snickering to himself when he finds a dusty Santa hat, putting the wretched thing over his mane of hair before he continues on. The other pair make their way back over, the window now fully shut, locking in the warmth of the Community Centre, any remnants of the bristly chill snuffed out with a warm wash. Sam’s antics were loud, hands roughly exploring the space, pulling things out that surely shouldn’t be touched - At least not by him of all people. Sebastian and Abigail sit either side of you, the male opting to share a corner of the wooden pallet crate you had situated yourself on, very nearly pressing his bicep into your own as he watches Sam.

“Duuuude..” The blonde calls with a hiccuped laugh, practically jumping into a box to nab at something. Sebastian tilts his head, an amused quirk of a smile plastered on his pierced lips, the point of a double vertical labret (Not snakebites as Sam always annoyingly calls them) lifting with the action.

“That can’t be good.” Sebastian’s voice cracks soft, tone low enough for only you to hear, like a hidden inside joke. Of course, you giggle, top teeth sinking into your bottom lip to stifle the noise, your brain letting you laugh so effortlessly, as if you were a crushing school girl - Yoba it felt silly, and yet your body strives to work against you.

“I’m scared..” You mock a wobbly tone, a fake frown on your face which easily turns upwards as Sam yelps, coming up with his lucky-dip mystery prize he’d yanked up from the box. 

“Ooho..” The blonde calls, lifting up the very thing he had practically dived for; A stringy and sad looking worn-out piece of plastic mistletoe, decorated with a gnarly bright red ribbon in the beginnings of the end of its life, fraying right at the edges in wispy fabric feathers. His grin turns shit-eating, eyes darkening in your direction, dangling the sad plastic plant as if it were poison ivy, ready to rash anything it touched. “Ohh, Sebby-Webs~” He teases, making a wet, spit-filled kissy face at the other man. 

Sebastian rolls his eyes with a huff, pulling out his lighter and flicking the flame to life with a hearty click, a silent threat against the very existence of the sad excuse of mistletoe. Sam makes a show of pouting, sniffling faux snot up his nose in defeat before his attentions turn to you.

“He’s so mean, right?” He keeps up his pout, fake tears in his eyes. “You’ll smooch me, right?” He looked like a kicked puppy, bottom lip wobbling as he neared you, holding the plastic piece above your head. He looks to Sebastian, a glint in his eyes and a near smirk daring to twitch on his lip, stirring the pot, so to say. You fake a gag, looking to Sebastian to spout a joke but the man looked.. Well, tense. Brow furrowed just enough, body stiff in his spot beside you compared to the lucid and wobbled movements of Sam. “Just oneeee~” The blonde begs, teasing at you, making another puckered kissy face as he dramatically leans in.

Another one of his forced proximity plans perhaps-

A lean hand smushes into Sam’s lips, ring clad fingers squishing his cheeks, firmly but gently shaking his head. Oh, it was on now. A roughhousing play fight between the two men, giggles and fake insults, Sam and his mistletoe with pucker kissing noises now directed back to Sebastian. “Kiss meeee, kiss me- You know you want to~” Sam would sing, only to be refuted by Sebastian calling him some sort of choice word. You and Abigail can only look to one another, a stifled smile as the boys go at each other- Until an unhealthy crashing tumble occurs.

Sebastian yelps a swear, falling back on a box within the closet space, saved by the crinkle of tinsel rather than any sharp and nasty decorations. You don’t think, jumping to your feet, eggnog forgotten as you spring to help him.

“Seb-! Are you alright?” You reach him, lending your arm for him to use you as leverage, doing your best to pull him free. You get him up and standing, faced with his collarbones with his height compared to your own, closer than you initially had thought you'd be, the space tighter than it seemed with all the storage boxes-

A chuckle comes from the door, Sam with a teeth-filled and lopsided grin, one hand on the frame and the other tossing the sad little plastic mistletoe right at you before the door comes to a hearty, thunking close. Boisterous laughter is muffled, taunts of “Behaving” going nearly unheard as crates scrape against the hardwood floors, only logically being pressed against the door, successfully locking yourself and Sebastian inside of the tiny storage closet.

This felt juvenile, as if you were thrown into a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven, the door un-opening as you try your best to push - No luck. 

A hand rests snugly on your waist as Sebastian leans over, trying his luck at pushing the door to get it moving along its hinges, palm and fingers spread flat over the wood. It's a futile attempt. He chokes around a pant as he tries again, breath straining with a soft whine right at the back of his throat with his pushing, forming into a weak and disheartened groan of a sigh when he fails again. He swallows, breathing huffed, squared to catch himself before he braces to try again.

“Seb-” Your voice calls with a crack, your hand daring to reach for his bicep, giving him a soft squeeze, heavy with your touch thanks to the soft swirl of alcohol in your stomach. “Hey..” You try again before he relents, face snapping to yours in the dimmed-down closet, barely illuminated by the crack under the door. His breaths huff against your lips, hot and laced with tobacco and a wash of mint in a feeble attempt to mask the smell. He had managed to work up a small sweat with his attempts, smoker lungs surely fiery behind his ribs, puffs coming to an easy slow, air still coming from past his lips, brushing into yours like a faux kiss.

His hand on your waist doesn't move, plastered stuck right in place before the other joins, holding you right there - Closer than arm's length. You hear him swallow, see the bare brush of his tongue swiping over his lips, wetting them with saliva, piercings glinting with the bare shine of light. “Fuck..” Comes his voice, barely above a whisper, more rounded with the shape of his mouth and that harsh digraph sound nestled at the back of his throat.

It's quiet - So, so quiet. Save for the shake of your breaths, coming into a rhythm, forced into tandem as you try to make out Sebastian’s face in the dim. Your pulse thrums in your ears, thumping like a ball in your throat, gushing red-hot anxious blood to your head, already washy and tipsy drunk off of that damned eggnog- The air between you seared, hot tension rising as you come to terms with exactly what just happened, a heavy weight of mortification washing down your shoulders and to your toes, curdling the contents of your stomach into something bubbly-sick. It was as if a kettlebell fell down on your head right as you’d jumped down from high up, a spiking shock running up your legs and down your shoulders, meeting up in the middle. Your hand moves to come off of his bicep, the squeeze of your fingers off from his flesh-

One slender hand moves up, cupping at your ribs as if to stop you, accompanied by a short and startled disapproving hum, rumbled from Sebastian’s throat. You stare at him, he stares back, eyes searching left, right, left, right, flicking and unknowing of where exactly to look- Until he sighs, air punched from his gut before his head drops, carefully landing on your shoulder, face turned into your neck. His piercings barely press a graze to your sensitive skin, poking dully on your pulse, scraping as he speaks right under your ear.

“Sorry.. C-Can..” Your body sparks a shiver. “Can I..?” He asks, such an open-ended question had your brain searching all the ‘what ifs’. You mouth his name with a whisper, a questioning tone pitched up before he hums a long sound from his chest. “I can’t take it anymore- Really.. Fuck- Can I just..” He huffs another breath, a thick swallow following down his throat. His lips graze a trail up, pressed right by your ear as he asks; “Please-” exacerbation and frustration, it oozes off of him, “Tell me I can kiss you- Yoba I can’t...” 

Was this an eggnog induced hallucination? Was your sick pining something mutual? No more clawing through the six feet of thick insecurity to grasp at measly straws or long over the reassurances Sam and Abigail had gifted you? It was your turn to beg a short please of your own before your lips were captured in a desperate lock - All teeth and tongue, clumsy in movement, heads turning to find the perfect fit. Sebastian's hands wander, caressing up and down your sides, to the small of your back, letting them dive further to cup the fat of your ass as his tongue moves to take over your mouth. It swirls lovingly over your own, the ball of his tongue bar rolling and lapping, tastebuds dragging rough against each other, sloppy with spit and tipsiness, each and every breath of his tainted with a moan that cracked its way up his throat. His piercings poke against your lips, kissing them raw with every move of his mouth on your own until he lets your bottom lip thread through his teeth with a needy bite.

He pecks you hard, capturing your lips in a short frenzy before he's back on you again, deep and needy, pulling your body towards his own, soft in comparison to his lean build. You throw your arms around his neck, fingers twirling girlishly into the back of his hair, giving him a sweet tug with every few kisses you give back. His tongue is on you again, lips parting with a groan as he licks into your mouth, the mixed taste of whiskey tainted custard-cream and spiced smoked tobacco swaps with your spit. The air around you thickens, noses huffing against each others cheeks as you try to catch your breath, unwilling to part from the sloppy lock of your lips - Curse the need to breathe, Sebastian pops off with a wet puckered sound, a line of spit still connecting you together. His arms tighten, fingers turning into a claw to grab at you, anything he could get his hands on, his lungs huffed up choked breaths, head shaking in some form of disbelief.

“Fuck.. Yoba-” His lowered voice calls. Your response is barely a squeak before he's on you again, capturing your lips between his in a hot and heavy manner, pulling you into his body, pressing himself against you, the finality of having you in his arms coursing a magma-hot sear through his blood. His knee rests between your legs, an arm caged around your upper back, caressing and rubbing in a feverish frenzy, bundling the fabric of your clothes into desperate fists while the other rubs circles into your hip, tugging right at the waist of your pants. You feel it, the hot pulse of something down below, the strain of his cock pressing up against the seam of his jeans and by proxy, poking against your own body. “I.. Fucken’... Need you.” It’s said between kisses, slurred against your lips, “F’So… Long.. Too fucken’.. Shit-.. Too, mmph.. pussy to say-” That's when you cut him off, a sweet tug to his hair with one hand and a cup to his chin with the other, tippy-toeing your way to press against him, kissing up, chasing his mouth.

“Shh..” You soothe, your own desperation showing as your palms come down to massage his shoulders, caressing up and down his chest over the sheeny smooth fabric of his button down. Your fingers trace against his collar, dipping past the edge of his shirt, already slightly unbuttoned from the top to show off the silver chain of his necklace. Another swear comes from his pierced lips, hands leaving your body for barely a moment for him to tug at the strip of fabric housing the plastic buttons, pulling the poor placket open with a needy tug, losing at least one rounded badge with a snap, the poor little thing landing on the floor with a bounce before it was forgotten completely. His chest was exposed, milky skin bright enough to see in the dim light, sparsely dotted moles dancing over his otherwise clear skin. It's warm against your touch, tacky with the rise of sweet arousal, in the beginning stages of working up a heated sweat.

His hands are back on your body, reaching for the hem of the ‘ugly sweater’ you’d picked out for the night, decorated with kitschy Holiday motifs sewn into the knit. It was one of your last layers you wore to the party that night, a warm and cuddly jumper and scarf left to sit in a neat pile. Off it came with a tug over your head before his bare hands were on your skin, forcing sweet shivers in every spot he touched, sparking like needle pricks with every squeeze and brush. His lips brush into your neck with open mouthed kisses, bites and bruises peppered into your skin- Your nails dig into his shoulder, dragging down his front before your palms flatten, taking in the feeling of his body against your fingertips. “Sebastian~.. Mmnn..” Your head tilts back with a sweet chirpy moan, giving the man all the access he could ever want to your body, thoughts swirling behind your closed eyes, dizzy with the slur of alcohol inebriating your finer thinking ability. Yoba, you didn’t care- Couldn't care less towards the fact.

Sebastian bites against the strap of your bra, the elastic snapping against your shoulder before he mouths at your collar bone, sinking down to the valley of your breasts, bent over to press tender kisses and love bites into the once untouched and hidden skin. You reach back and fumble with the clasp of your bra, picking at the stubborn latch to free your tits, feeling the wet spit of his kisses linger coolly with the huff of his breath.

“Hahh.. Shit..” His voice pipes up again. Kisses come back up, arms wrapping snug around your body to squeeze you into him, tits squishing into his nude chest all soft and pretty, the rougher poke of his necklace making an imprint into your skin. His hands are grabby, arms flexing to hug and pull at you, teeth sinking into your neck, over your collarbones, wet kisses smothered up your jaw to your awaiting lips.

“S-Seb-!” He only groans in response, head nodding as if to say ‘I Know,’ pierced lips dragging into your skin with the movement. Your hands grab his face, cupping his jaw on either side, thumbs caressing in rough swipes, feeling the subtle grain of his shaved face under the pads of them. You grab back at him, palm sliding down his neck, massaging into the bob of his Adam’s apple, against the slope of his shoulder into that tender trap muscle, skin soft with peach fuzz until you move to his chest, feeling the slightest wiry rough of chest hair, barely enough to frame his torso. You rub the expanse of his chest, hands between your pressed bodies, kissing hot and sloppy, tongues swirling, lips fully parting to moan into his mouth as your thumb brushes over his bare nipple, feeling the hard metal of a piercing. It sends a thick course of arousal to your core, throbbing behind the press of your pants. 

You squirm, rubbing your thighs together for a sweet release, anything to feel the sticky heat of friction against your budding arousal- Yoba you don’t have to chase it though. 

It's like he reads your mind, his hand allowing itself to press between your legs, long and dexterous ring-clad fingers pushing against your mound in a caress, palm pressing richly hot pressure against your clit. Your lips part in another moan, eyes rolling softly, allowing your lashes to flutter into a dreamy close, body melting as if you were moulded out of thick molasses. Things were getting hotter - Heavier - Pleasures beginning to spark under fingers and they soothe and caress, as Sebastian’s palm grounds rough at the seam of your pants, fingertips pressing their pads against your clothed fluttering hole. Your lips part from his with a breathy gasp, his name hot on your tongue, barely whispered, those syllables rounded as you suck air into your starving lungs. Yoba, it's all you can say - A mantra of his name over and over with every few seconds, spewing from your lips as if you knew nothing else. 

He breathes your own name back to you, rasped off of his pierced tongue before his kisses are on your throat, nose nuzzling in slow shakes of his head. His hand comes up, swiping the button to your pants with his thumb and forefinger, zipping down the fly enough for him to connect closer - His fingers dip behind your panties, the taught elastic band surely digging into the back of his hand as he glides his digits over your drooly folds. He outwardly groans, another ‘Fuck’ grit through his teeth. You whimper, head leaning into him for comfort, thighs squishing around his teasing hand. Ohhh that was it- The sweet dip of his long middle finger sinking into your wetness, past the weepy ring of your cunt, coated in sweet drool as he dares to curl. You bite into your bottom lip, a long and keened hum following his actions.

“God- Yoba..” He stains, his finger working its magic, curling sweet caresses, a beckoning of ‘come here, come here!’ over and over again. “You’re so.. Fuck- so wet..” He says in bewilderment, tongue running over his kiss-bitten lips, past the metal pierced through them. You nod, an ‘All f’you’ about to drip off of your tongue if it weren't for the grind of his palm sparking a delicious pressure against your clit- Instead you moan, a pathetic affirmation of a noise whining out. One became two, the slip of his ring finger clad with a ring, in fact, easily being stained with the sweet and creamy nectar of your cunt.

Oh, how he works them into you. Cupping your pussy with his lean hand, lengthy fingers rolling sweet curls against the gummy little spot inside of you, giving you his palm to grind back on, lips kissing at the top of your head, huffing an enamoured chuckle each time you clench your squishy thighs against the bone of his wrist and the dig of his bracelets. Yoba, it forces him to be rougher with you, a game to push past the tight trap of your thighs, free himself from the confines all so he could fuck into you. You look up at him, eyes glassy from the abuse of his fingers, pressing right where you needed him. You flutter a blink, bubbles of tears threatening to fall past your bottom lash, doe and unfocused with a pouty bite to your lip.

“Hohhh.. Fuck, that's it.” He holds you into him as your legs go jelly-soft, a hot wash of ditzy dizziness creeping up your knees as his fingers fuck and curl. He stares right at you, brows furrowed in an upward pinch, a tug of a frown born out of hot arousal and focus appearing right at the corner of his lip. Your breaths hitch, rapid, in pace with a sinful hiccup tainting any feeble attempt at speaking-

“Seb.. ast-tian~” It's almost like a warning, sharp with arousal and stuttered in pleasure, breathed inward as you gasp, hands fisting into the fabric of his open button-down like a lifeline.

“Hmmn?” He hums with a nod - Right there. Sebastian was right where you needed him, his fingers mashing into that supple little spot inside of you, that sweet and spongy swell that had your brain all foggy. “What is it, Princess..?” The name alone had you melting further than you thought was possible, your entire body rippling with a sensation that felt as though you were on fire. Your fingers tighten on the fabric of his shirt, chin tilting up in a desperate plea, lip bitten raw and in need of more kisses.

Of course, he obliges, hearing your begs despite the lack of a peep chirped from your throat - Slow and deep - That's how he kisses you. Capturing your lips with a sweet bite of teeth, tongue caressing your own with a loving lick, out of time with the hot and feverish way his fingers fuck your cunt. The juxtaposition only adds to the wobble in your body, coming closer and closer to the very edge, moans drunk up by his lips, swallowed with a happy humming in his throat. One hand comes off of his shirt collar, fingers curling around Sebastian's arm, your soft palm feeling the bump of his wrist bone press into it, greedily pushing him into you while your hips hump back on his digits.

“I..- I’m.!” You can barely formulate your sentences, whipped thicker than cream under his spell, the sinful caress of his fingers beckoning in your cunt.

“Fuckk, Babe.. S’okay- I gotcha’..” Sebastian promises. You cling to him for dear life, your body leaning its weight against him, pushing him further into the wedge of shelves supporting the both of you. You feel it, that spark right at the bottom of your tummy, twisting and turning, firing into ignition as your thighs clench and squirm. So close- So, so close!

Any attempt at a legible sentence is easily cut with a gaspy whimper, crying out as you cream over his knuckles, properly messing up the fabric of your panties with gushy slick, bleeding pat and surely leaving a messy wet spot on your pants. Even with the taut press of your waistband limiting the man’s movements, he doesn't let up, curing those lengthy fingers through the rush of your orgasm, feeling the clenchy release lovingly pulse on his knuckles. He works you through it, eyes wide and enamoured with the way he had you, closer than arm's length, the sole reason for the sweet bliss that rushed through your body - “Shit- That's it.. Thaaat’s it- Fuck.. Look at me.. Look at me-” You obey, fucked out eyes flicking up to his, seeing the wash of arousal pool and swirl behind his dark lashes, his lip bitten bruised as he focuses on you, enamoured. “Feels good? Hmmn?” He nearly begs for reassurance, huffing a relieved laugh when you nod, your body twitching with each sweet pulse.

His lips attack yours, hungry and hot, throat groaning up a delicious noise you couldn’t help but eat up, body on fire with the way his palm rides you through the remnants of your hot burst of arousal. 

“Fuck..” His hand softens its press, fingers giving a last curl before he carefully pulls them from the confines of your pants. They're drenched and sticky, dribbles of arousal sticking to his fingers like a lattice, spider webbing with a sinful drip that had you clenching your thighs once again. It drips over his rings, cream and slick mixing with the precious metal, soaked knuckles curling as his lips part, tongue lapping a lick before they’re suckled into his mouth.

The groan he lets out is near animalistic, needy and punched from the depths of his lungs, his own arousal going painfully unnoticed only pressing harder and stricter against the seam of his jeans. The man murmurs, words raspy-hot on his tongue; “Need more of’ya-”

It felt almost comical to describe the next moments as a blur, but the post-orgasm airiness lingering in your boozed tipsy brain had your perception flicking with a whack of whiplash. Turned from your position, the skin of your naked back now pressing into a collection of forgotten Holiday decorations, a slight itch thanks to the plastic of a faux wreath. Your pants are tugged down, eager fingers hooking into your waistband and stripping you of your bottoms, it's a short fumble, hot and clumsy, the air within the closet turned stuffy with breath and sweet arousal-induced sweat. 

Hands are on you, flat palms squishing into the flesh of your bare thighs, fingers still slick, pressing their pads into the sensitive, rarely caressed skin - Thumbs daring to dig just enough to have you squirming. His lips are next, sharp with the bud of his piercings and the nips of his teeth, daring to suckle a bruising kiss against your inner thigh, piping up a squeak from your throat, another call of his name. You search for Sebastian in the dim, eyes focusing on the milk of his skin reflecting off of the crack of light, his being nestled comfortably between your legs. His dark hair parts with an affectionate caress of your fingers, looping themselves through his locks to pat him. He hums against your flesh, warm on your skin, breath moist with humidity born out of the hot and tacky stick of arousal leaching into the air from your bodies.

He smacks his lips on the skin of your thighs, itching up and up, further into the centre of your heat, nails digging loving crescent marks into your skin with every eager grope. He kisses against your bikini line, right by the taut elastic hugging at your upper leg, hiding away the sweetness of your cunt behind a wall of silky pantie fabric. He nuzzles his nose into the crevice connecting your thigh to torso, the point of it dragging over your clothed cunt with an affectionate press accompanied by a shameless inhale. Sebastian sighs something dreamy, lips peppering kisses that had your breath hitching, right over the mound of your heat - So pretty and accentuated with the tight and taught pull of your panties, outlining the swell of your pussy. Yoba, he swallows thick, gulping down saliva that dared to pool under his pierced tongue. 

Your arousal sticks to his lips, pooling a clear wet spot in your panties, a target for him to kiss at, to tentatively lick at, feeling the slick remnants of your previous orgasm wet on his tongue. He groans- More of that taste on his tongue, eyes heavy as they look up at you, washed over with need. Your fingers twitch, straining against his scalp, tugging his dark strands enough to have him diving right in.

His lips latch to your clothed cunt, impatient to get more of you on his tongue. The soft prick of his lip piercings press a spiky pressure on your sensitive mound, a reminder harsher than the eager lap of his tongue- Yoba.. Fuck- His tongue, strong and flat, licking between your pantie clad folds, adding his own drooly spit to the mess staining the poor fabric. His lips purse against your pussy as he indulges, eyes fluttered shut, thick, dark brows creased into an affectionate scrunch, full of focus.

“O-Ohhh.. Seb… I’m.. I need..” You breathe past the burn of your lungs, panting with jolty huffs each time his lips and tongue brush over the fabric covering the sensitive bud of your clit.

“Hmm.. Mhmmn-” He hums, smacking a harsh kiss before he pulls off, “Need to- Fuck, need my tongue on you. Gotta-” He shakes his head, kissing at his teeth with a ‘tut’ before his thumb dares to leave your thigh, hooking at the fabric of your panties in a motion to pull them aside. He looks to you, a thick gulp down his throat as he watches your head bob- Nod, nod, nod goes your head, almost in desperation to just feel him again, fingers curling in his hair, clenched with arousal and the budding frustration to just make him take you already. Yoba, he was sweet, though, the sentiment of him asking such things, checking in with a silent ask for consent, making your back teeth grit in hot enamourment.

Sebastian takes it, your gifting nod, and eagerly yanks your underwear to the side. His thumb pulls your panties taut, shifted aside to show off the wet glisten of your folds, gushy with your last orgasm, puffy and swollen thanks to the prior abuse of his fingers, good enough to kiss-

Obviously, he does. Planting a wet and obnoxious open-mouthed kiss to your budding clit, lips smacking together before he properly dives into you, selfishly savouring all the sweetly creamed arousal you had for him. You gasp, fingers tightening in the twirls of his hair, surely enough to leave a harsh sting but Yoba- It doesn't seem like he cares. If anything it spurs the man on, a hot groan erupting from his chest, lips parting, the prick of his piercings digging a delicious pressure into your cunt. He’s messy with you, hungry slurps uncaring of the vulgar noise - The sharp and uncomfortable itch of the Holiday wreath biting at your skin was incomparable to the searing hot pleasure ripped from your pussy, stinging with overstimulation, forcing an endless string of whines from your lips.

Your throat hiccups, panting hot swears and the syllables of his name, rounded easily from your lips as he takes to you. It's easy for another orgasm to threaten your body, the feeling eager to roll from your cunt, twisting sweet and stabby like a suckled on candy cane, licked into a pin-thin spike poking at your gut- Especially with the works of Sebastian's tongue, swirly with his movements, tongue fat and flat as the metal ball of his piercing kisses at the bud of your clit in his rhythmic laps. He’s vocal with you, only spurring you on; Sweet hums tainting each breath he sucked in, feeble attempts to get oxygen in his lungs. You’re not sure he cares, not with the hearty mash of his lips against your mound, pursed with a stingy-sweet suckle directed right against your clit, teeth grazing at the supple soft swell of your pussy. 

You can’t help the hot babble, the filthy cry you speak next, steadily rushing to the very edge- Wanting to just take him- Damn any refractory period, you needed to feel the pulsy stab of his length drilling you over the edge. 

“Fuck me- Please- please, please Sebby just- Ahhnn..~” You whine, fingers giving his hair some grace, opting to feverishly pet him, clumsy affection in your fingers as you work them in a soothe. “Want you- Want you so, so bad- Y’know? F’so long-” You don't have to convince him.

He pops off of your cunt- Not without leaving several plants of hot kisses, pecking hotly on your clit before he tugs your panties down. His cock comes free with the jangle of a belt buckle, the leather sliding from his belt loops with a zip, metal buckle daring to clank on the floor before he’s working at the button and zip of his fly. His lips kiss at yours, the taste of your cunt on his tongue, sweetly salty and drenched in arousal, twinged with the last remnants of spicy nicotine and cream-sweet eggnog, swapped with the swirly spitty lap of your tongues mingling together in a hot collide.

It feels like a hot blur, motions moving quickly, Sebastian's arm jutting as he fists his free cock- Weepy dribbly tip all swollen and pink, finally free from the tight seam of his jeans. You squirm, lips clumsy on his own, arousal knocking you into an instinct-driven motion, oh so needy, “Seb..- Please.. Fuck… Fuck me~” You beg, muted between hot kisses, words slurred with the lick of his tongue, cutting you off with his mouth.

You move in tandem, arms throwing themselves around his neck as he grips the squish of your thigh, lifting your leg to wrap around his lean hip, hooking you into him as he lines himself up. He pops off of your lips enough to breathe, murmuring filthy things against them, coated in hot spit and your sweet arousal; “M’gonna fuck you- Promise, God- Yoba I promise, Princess-” He throws more sweet pet names your way, “Wanted me? Hmm? Wanted- Fuck.. Wanted you f’so long..” He promises. You feel the pudge of his cock press to your cunt, sparking a drooly clench of your drippy hole. He grinds on you, hips rolling, tip weeping as if it were crying, dribbling its milky pre over your puffy clit, pathetically kissing against your folds as his hips rut.

“Fuuuuckkk..” The ring of your cunt hugs his tip, suckling him in as he finally makes an effort to press in, he groans out a moan, matching the supple whine of your throat as you take him. Slow and sweet was something that could surely come later- The pressing itch of desperation easily taking over between you. Heavy rolls turn into needy fucks, hips jutting, pudgy cock tip making love to your cervix, kissing hot and lovingly hard pecks against the sweet mush in the depths of your pussy.

It's easy for his hips to roll into you, the base of his cock pounding against your mound, grinding the wiry curls that decorated him into the sensitive bud of your clit. Plap, plap, plap goes his hips on yours, skin to skin, sticky and sweat sheened, tacky to the touch as your bodies collide. You brace one arm on a shelf behind you, swiping off any stray decorations with a clamouring clutter, mystery items bouncing off into the depths of the closet, rolling on the floor. Your other arm hangs loosely on his neck, doe eyes fucked out and glossed as they look up at him, lips parted sweetly, kiss bitten and spit-shined, captured in a heated tongue and teeth-filled kiss before Sebastian groans. 

“Everythin’ I fucken’ dreamed of-” It's said between gritted teeth, his gaze snapping from your wet eyes to your drooling cunt, huffing an arousal filled chuckled laced up in disbelief, seeing that drooly ring of cream coat over his length, making a mess between yourselves. “So fucking perfect- Fuhhhck m’not gonna last long- Hahh.” You nod in agreement, eyes closing, that bubble of tears falling down your cheeks with a streak. Closer and closer came the tight twist of your next orgasm, your poor and abused pussy clenching loving squeezes on his cock, spurred on with the hot sting of overstimulation- Your thigh cramped, spread over his hip for him, tits bouncing with every thrust, lungs stuck in a sweet burn.

Your skin sweats, lips drool, eyes blink all glossy and dumb, brain firing off every time you have the pleasure of looking at him- Closer, closer - Your clit throbs, hips pathetically humping back into his fucks, chasing the hot high that threatened to gush!

There's sudden laughter, slurred and obnoxious, rasped from an all-too-happy voice. It leaks from beneath the crack in the door, the outside world leaching into your little space, a phantom chill washing over your body as if the door has swung open to the fresh fall of snow that blanketed the street. A crash occurs, a feminine voice scolding someone, furniture scraping against the wood floor of the outside. You hadn't noticed your attention had wandered, not until Sebastian grips your chin, turning you back to lock into another searing kiss-

“Oiii-” A fist bashes against the door, rattling the thing on its hinges. Sebastian’s hand moves, coming between your legs to rub at your poor bud- The fiery thrill of a threat- A burning fear of being caught by a drunken Sam had your body twitching. Sebastian seemed to feel the same, making something of a challenge to get you off before the blonde had the audacity to finally clear the doorway. “Ha- ‘ave you kissed yet?” Yoba knows you’ve done so much more.

Sebastian presses you harder into the shelves, hips snapping rough, filthy words spat into your ears as his hand worked overtime on your poor clit- His hips roll sloppily, breathes coming into a hard and slow pant, huffing in your ear- “Fuck.. M’ Gonna fucken’ cum- Yeah? G-Gonna take it? Hmmn? Look so pretty like this-” he babbles, tone heavy in his throat. “Gonna make it up t’you- Yeah? Promise.. Hnng fuck- P-Promise..” His fucks turn snappy, jut, jut, jutting- Punching at your poor cervix, cunt mashing against the base of his cock.

“Seb- As.. Tian~” You choke, head lulling back with an eye roll, teeth biting into your lips as you finally gush again, wetting his cock with a weepy clench of your pussy, filthily kissing at his length, adding to the wonderful mess between your legs. So sweet and squeezy, your velvety walls massage the length of his cock as you cum, pussy suckling him in, inviting the hot pulse of his own orgasm with a loving hug.

His hips snap in sharp staccatos, throat stuck in a perpetual growl with each lingering fuck as he spurts. He creams into you, hot and ropey filling up the depths of your sweetness, milked off by your squeezing. His sweaty forehead comes to rest in the crook of your neck, fingers holding your thigh up squeezing a grab, a stingy dig of his nails leaving desperate crescent marks behind. He rasps a drawn-out groan, nosing into the tacky, sweaty skin of your neck, mouthy kisses back on your shoulder, just adding to the bitey kiss marks he’d left on you already.

You jolt when another knock rasps against the door, sloppy and full, thunks formed by a fist connecting to the wood. “Alright, you guys, you've definitely been in there long-e-fucking-nough." Sam’s voice calls with a snort, a failed attempt at stifling his laughter. “Don’ make me open this door~” He sings.

The fumble for clothes and the accidental collide of foreheads seemed worth it all - Especially when you roll over and see the man now in your bed, chest rising and falling as he sleeps, more bruises kissed into both of your skin, all sticky and spent, a shower surely in order by the time morning came. For now, you bask in the luxury of resting your head on Sebastian’s chest, lulled to sleep by the dull ache in your legs and the tipsy swirl of spiked eggnog settling in your stomach.

[honey-flustered]

Kinkmas Day 1: Shared Girlfriend

Steddie x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sharing is, indeed, caring.

Warnings: established relationship, mentions of threeway activities, steve and eddie friendly competition for your praise, college!au

A/N: was in the drafts for kinktober so instead it’s christmas goodies instead 🎄

“Thank you so much for carrying my books for me, Eddie Bear. You’re so sweet.” You say with an adoring smile that immediately makes him putty in your hands.

“Anything for you.” Eddie replies dreamily, a dopey smile on his face while his love-stricken eyes refuse to leave your face. He mindlessly unloads your books into the locker, missing the entrance by a long shot as the books fall to the floor. It doesn’t register to him it seems because he continues to put away imaginary books oblivious to the mess he’s made of your things.

You giggle, shaking your head at him a little bit. “You’re so silly.”

Just as you were about to crouch down to collect the books, Steve swoops in and picks them off the ground for you.

“Allow me, princess, we don’t want you lifting a finger. Especially me.” He shoots you a dazzling smile.

“Funny you say that considering I was the one carrying all the books. Not you.“ Eddie mutters.

“Oh, so carrying her backpack and her lunch means absolutely nothing? My girl needs her #2 pencils and a balanced meal and I was able to protect them.” Steve defends.

“You’re right. My girl does need those things,” Eddie emphasizes by dropping a heavy hand down onto Steve’s shoulder. “Thank you for your service. You’ve been honorably discharged, soldier.”

“I’ll go once I get a kiss from my princess,” Steve shrugs off Eddie, stepping towards you. He bats his puppy-dog hazel eyes and pouts. “May I get a kiss?”

“Of course, baby.” You consent, grinning. Then, you’re leaning in, pressing your soft lips against his own. Fireworks burst behind Steve’s eyelids and he feels like he’s about to takeoff like a rocket.

You pull away, doing your best to wipe the excess of your lipgloss from his lips. Steve licks it instead, savoring your taste.

“Mmm, cherry.” He says, eyes just as dazed and love-stricken as Eddie’s once were. But Eddie’s eyes could only carry anger after the display before him.

The boys had no issue sharing you. Hell, the day they both laid eyes on you they were adamant that neither would back off from pursuing you regardless of their close friendship. Two-in-one confessions later, an intense three-way make out session—among other things—and you three decide to make the arrangement official.

Everything has been great…up until Eddie and Steve became a little competitive when it came to receiving praise from you. They’re BIG on praise. Words of Affirmation and Quality Time are their love languages. So, of course, when one would receive any kind of congratulatory words or praise, the other would go to even greater lengths to receive the attention as well.

Eddie touches his index fingers together, feigning shyness. “I get one too, right?”

You laugh. They’re both so cute. “Yes, Eddie Bear.”

You press your mouths together and both end up smiling into the kiss. When you pull away, Eddie takes a moment to reopen his eyes before they’re boring into yours.

“I love you.” He says with a dreamy sigh.

“I love you, too. Eddie Bear. And I love you, Big Boy.” You say, winking over at Steve then checking the time on your phone. “I have to go. My professor’s a real stickler for being on time and makes it everyone’s problem when we aren’t.”

“I’ll be counting down the seconds until we meet again, princess.” Steve says, taking your hand to place yet another kiss on your skin; his eyes never leaving yours.

“Pretty smooth, prince fucking charming.” Eddie thinks.

But he believes he can do one better. He may not be a gentleman but it’s not like you ever needed that from him anyway. Taking the same hand Steve kissed, Eddie places his lips over the same spot before tracing his lips up along your ring finger. He notices the slight shiver that courses through you, goosebumps rising along your soft skin. A chaste kiss is press along the soft pad of your fingertip, his tongue briefly tasting you.

“That should hold me until your return,” Eddie says, licking his lips before shooting Steve a shit-eating smirk. “Don’t be too long though or I’ll have to come in and get you myself.”

You nod in a daze, reluctantly parting from them while awkwardly stumbling into class; your knees buckling.

“You little devil.” Steve says with his arms crossed.

“Oh, you love it.” Eddie gloats.

[deepestnightcolor]

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆Kinkmas - 15th of December⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

ᴀ/ɴ: If you are still here, I hope you are still enjoying your little advent calendar! Open the door, see if it is for you and I hope you like it!

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sam (SDV) x Fem!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 2804 words

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: cursing, drool, comfort sex, possessiveness, praise, pierced dick, raw fucking, creampie, taking pictures of you, Sam just wants to make you feel good because you are hurt, but don't worry, he is giving his best!

He just did not get it. Could not understand, no matter how hard he tried. And he probably never would – he would simply never understand how anyone could hurt you. Precious you with a glimmer in your eyes that made his head spin, a smile that lit up his world and a touch that made him melt, ready to be shaped and formed into whatever you intended him to be for the day. Yes, perhaps Sam was a little biased here with how down bad he was, but he was sure everyone in the damn town would agree that your piece of shit ex did not deserve you. Leaving you just before the feast of the winterstar? Sam was not a violent man, but he was willing to make well-placed exceptions. He had found you in tears in front of your house, phone clutched in one hand, face hidden by the other, sobbing quietly. It had broken his damn heart, had made his fist clench in a bitter rage he had never felt before, body already tense, ready to go scorched earth on what- or whoever had caused the scenery in front of him. But seeing you look up at him, pretty eyes still filled with tears, cheeks red and wet, lip wobbling dangerously, he knew he had to do something else first; be there for you. He had knelt down in the snowy dirt in front of you and had silently pulled you against his chest. At first you had tensed up, but that had quickly faded as you had melted into Sam’s embrace, sobbing into his shirt, your nails digging into the fabric as if you were scared that he would leave just as quickly as he pulled you into a hug. Truth was – Sam would have never left. His heart was absolutely breaking; it was like the pain you felt went over to him, running through his body, pinching at his soul, slamming its ugly fists against his heart. “I am here,” he whispered against your hair, his big hand stroking down your back and back up to your shoulders. “I am here now, promise.”

He didn’t know how long you had sobbed in his arms, and frankly, he didn’t care. What he had cared about was the fact that your sobs slowly had become more infrequent and quieter, that your body hadn’t shaken as violently anymore. You had slowly become more relaxed in his arms, and yet he had still held you tightly to his chest, his long fingers not stopping their brushing through your hair. “Sam?” You had whispered, making him tilt his head. “Yeah?” “I…I need you to do something for me.” “Anything-“ “I need you to f-…fu—I need you to fuck me, Sam.”

Sam also wasn’t sure how often he had asked you if you were sure. Five, ten, or even fifteen times? He had asked you as he had picked you up and pressed you against his body. He had asked you as he was carrying you inside. He had popped the question just before your lips had been about to collide, making you do that cute sniffle-laugh that both tugged at his heartstrings and at the corner of his lips. You had gripped strands of his hair and pulled him into a kiss that could have been described as nothing but desperate, and Sam was shameless enough to say that he had matched that energy. Biting at your lower lip to let his pierced tongue lick over yours, sucking at it to taste you, gripping your ass with those big hands of his in an attempt to press you even closer to his body. He probably shouldn’t have given in, but he was here to help, right? This didn’t have to do with his own selfish desires. Wasn’t connected in any way to the nights he had fisted at his cock, your precious name at the tip of his tongue. Not at all related to the times he had daydreamed about being your boyfriend instead of that prick he had never liked.

“Are you sure?” He asked, peppering hot, open-mouthed kisses over your neck, enjoying the feeling of that preciously soft skin against his lips, the softness only inviting him to bite. Mark over where that fucking loser had been, reclaim what he had lost. “Yes, I a- fuck, Sam,” you whined, lulling your head to the side to bare more of it to him. Yoba, how could anyone be so stupid to let you go? But you didn’t need to worry – he would make sure you would know just how precious you were. How deserving you were of feeling good.

Turned out, you were showing him how good sex could feel. Sam’s eyes were rolled back in the far of his skull, his cock buried balls-deep inside of you, and holy fuck, he probably would never be able to fuck anyone that wasn’t you. He had to swallow several times to be able to even utter a word, Adam’s apple bobbing violently. “Fuck, baby, love, oh my fucking- you feel so good…” His dick was throbbing inside of you, pink, pierced tip shamelessly leaking pre-cum as he took a moment just to look down at you. Hair spread out beneath you like some sort of halo, pretty tits on display for him, thighs spread open for him to be accommodated. Slobber and freshly bitten bruises were forming on your skin, making his tongue feel heavy with split. Yoba, you were gorgeous, like a damn angel had crafted you. And yet you were in pain, pain you didn’t fucking deserve, but by hell, he was going to fuck that pain away.

He leaned down to press a quick, rather sloppy kiss to your lips, his cock throbbing dangerously in your cunt. He hadn’t moved much yet, and you still sucked him off so well already, squishy walls wrapping around him in a way that knocked the breath out of his lungs, and he had to fear he was going to fucking cum already. “S-sam,” you whispered, your hips bucking toward him in a loving grind, making him almost go cross-eyed. “Baby,” he whispered, breath quivering with his words. He slowly pulled his hips back, away from you, away form the grinds you gifted him; and holy fuck did it pain him to do so, especially when you whined his name again, lower lip wobbling just like it had done before. Sam gave you an almost soothing smile, one that was supposed to keep back the moans that were bubbling at the top of his throat. That first thrust would forever hold him in a chokehold – engraved in his brain, hammered in his heart. Oh, how your eyes rolled back and how your breasts bounced. He had even felt a quiver ripple through your thighs, so snuggly wrapped against his hips. He was fucking addicted in one stroke, forcing him to pull back, just to snap his hips forward again. His teeth were digging into his lower lip as he began to set a pace, blue eyes glued to your body, drowning in what his dick did to you. Your whole body seemed to react to him, your head thrown into the pillow as the pierced tip of his dick bullied forward, pushing deeper, deeper, deeper. You looked absolutely beautiful, and Sam forever fucking prayed that he would never forget that look on your face. That look that he caused. “You are so fucking- you are fucking- Yoba, fuck,” he started, eyes rolling as your walls squeezed him. Did you like that, huh? Liked being praised? Did that fucking douche dare not to praise you enough? Shit, he would praise you, promise. “You are fucking everything, baby- come on, touch me, baby. You can, let me feel those nails dig in my back.” His words seemed steady at the surface, but below there was a groan lingering, an animalistic sound of pleasure from the depths of his body. One he couldn’t keep in anymore when your eyes fluttered, those pretty orbs finding him, the look of sadness you had had being replaced by something more…primal and lustful. One that only grew louder when your nails did sink into his skin, scratching down along his spine. “That’s it, baby. Look so pretty, even prettier on my dick- hooo…fuck, you are squeezing me, baby. You like this? Yeah? You like my dick? Does it make you feel as good as you deserve, princess?” He panted, eyes slipping shut for just a moment, letting his instincts take over. Instincts to fuck you hard and deep, make you feel every. Damn. Inch. Of. His. Cock. He hadn’t even noticed that his thrust had gotten harder, fast, hard fucks of his cock deep inside of your pussy, making your body rut along the mattress, bed frame squeaking sounds of annoyed disagreement. But Sam didn’t care, the bed could break, he would buy you a new one, build it with his own two hands if you wanted him to, if you only kept looking at him like this – mouth open, eyes rolling and fluttering, but always with a dick-drunken look in them, a trail of spit on your chin as he pounded into you. He wanted to make you forget, wanted to make you feel as good as he did with his balls pulled tight and the thick vine on the underside of his cock throbbing, but he doubted he ever could, not when he felt like on cloud six and cloud nine, fuck that, whatever highest cloud there was, he was on that one.

“Sa-ham!” You squeaked, causing another groan to tear for him. He just had to. Just had to make sure you would have a reminder of this. His eyes wandered to the phone you had dropped only when he had started kissing you, tongue licking over your body as if he was set out to devour you, and now it was in his big hand. He looked at you, nodding at the phone, his hips stopping out of necessity – the blond tried to ignore the way his cock pulsed, the way your cunt squished and gushed, the sloppy wet having formed a creamed ring around his fat shaft. “Can I, baby? Gosh, you just look so pretty, look atcha…Want you to remember how good you can feel,” he rambled, licking over his lips, watching your face intently. You were panting, still in a daze, and yet there it was, a nod. Your thighs wrapped tighter around his hips, hands reaching up to grab his face and pull him into a kiss. Sam happily complied; he would have been stupid if he hadn’t. He grunted, shifting more of his weight on his forearms, adding some pressure on your body, just to make you feel a little closer. He needed it, and he hoped you enjoyed it, too, as your tongues clashed and bumped. Sam’s hips slowly began to resume their pace from before, heavy balls smacking against sloppy wet skin, cunt squelching whenever he drew back. “Gorgeous, wonderful girl. Ya deserve the world, baby. Gonna pick the stars from the sky for ya if ya want that,” he slurred, eyes watering with just how good your pussy felt. His fingers were fucking shaking as he pressed the camera button, pressing a small kiss against your lips before picking himself up just a little, allowing the camera to capture his cock pounding your pussy. Gosh, he was in love, with how you scratched him, how you moaned for him, how you snapped up your hips whenever he went especially hard – with you. “Good girl, good fucking girl, pussy taking me so well, holy fuuuuuck,” he panted. He felt the coils in his tummy twisting and turning, becoming tighter, threatening to snap, snap for you, ready to mark you up, cover the tracks of those who weren’t deserving. He was moaning your name quietly, the camera now lifted higher, trying to capture as much of your beauty as humanly possible, free hand groping your bouncing tit. “You are amazing, baby, hng- I am- oh fuck, you are going to make me cum if you keep squeezing me like that, princess.” His words were hissed through grit teeth, which was understandable with how close he was to the edge.

“You deserve the world, baby, deserve being pounded stupid by good dick every day, yeah? That’s it baby,” he cooed, hand leaving your tit to press his thumb against your throbby little clit, drinking in how your body twitched, back arching in, the moans that had fallen from your lips now mixing with mumbles of his name. That’s how he liked it, having you dumb on his cock, just how he was absolutely drunk on your pussy. “I can feel you squeezin’ me, babe. Gonna cum? Huh? Tell me. Look at me and tell me,” he ordered, whimpering at the way your nails dug deeper into his skin. Yet your eyes met, your head nodding. “Gonna-gonna cuuum! Oh FUCK, Sam!” You suddenly whined, your back snapping up again, an absolutely unholy whined sound escaping you. He knew he almost had you there, and he needed to bring you there – he was sure he would fucking die otherwise. “Yes, yes, yes, cum for me! Bless me like that, baby, please. Oh my Yoba, please cum for me, babygirl. Need you to drench me. Gonna do that for me? Are you? Pretty, pretty -fuhuuuck- pretty please,” he panted between harsh snaps of hips and quick flicks of his thumb, trying his best to hold back, trying not to pump you full just yet. Being begged like this did seem to do something to you, because it made you sob out his name as you were pushed over the edge, a wave of orgasmic bliss washing over you. Your toes curled as you pressed Sam against you, your legs locking him in as if you wanted to make sure he could not fucking escape you – as if he ever wanted that-, small begs and pleas leaving your kiss-bitten lips. Sam moaned in your ear, shamelessly so, kissing the shell as his hips sloppily fucked into you. If he had been precise before, he was nothing but humping you like a mere bitch in heat right now, kissing at your neck, your ear, whispering how good you were doing for him, desperately trying to keep the camera lifted steadily. “Made a mess on my cock, baby- ugh, so fuckin’ hot. I- shit, princess I am gonna fuckin’ fill you up, I am- mmpf-“ the last sound was drowned in the throaty moan that left poor Sam, the knot in his stomach finally snapping at a single word that left your lips: “please.” But who could blame him? It sounded so beggy, so whiny, so earnest. And shit, Sam would deliver.

He was left absolutely breathless as he came, nestled deep inside your squishy walls, ropes of cum filling your precious cunt. Poor Sam was shivering, phone shaking in his hand was he rutted, humping his cum deeper inside of you, hoping to fill you to the brim. Sam was just a man, after all, shamelessly milking himself with quick little thrusts, much softer than before. He could feel the world around him spinning, eyes watering again as he rutted, and rutted, and rutted, hoping to fuck a memory inside of you that you could hold onto. Only when he deemed himself drained did his hips slow, greedy Sam not able to bring himself to stop completely, even though he had nothing to give anymore. Until he saw your face. Lulled in the pillows, blissed smile on your spit-wet lips, eyes cross-eyed as you looked at where you connected. He had deemed it impossible, but his cock twitched, filling you with another rope of cum, bringing him close to sob. You were just perfect, weren’t you? Even in his fucked-out mind he was able to zoom in on your face, voice breathlessly whispering another praise. “You are absolutely perfect…Gosh, you are- you are the sun, baby. Fuckin’ hell.” It might not have made sense to you in that moment, but to him, it did. It always would. You were the sun and he was nothing like a mere moth, drawn to your light, ready to worship you, even if he would end up burnt in the end. A small smile tugged on his lips as he saved the video, panting still as he leaned down to kiss you. To his surprise, you kissed back again, your sweaty hands holding his cheeks affectionately. Hey, maybe he had fucked some of the pain away. And if not, he could always manage another round. Just for you, of course, sunshine.

[rafesbabygirlx]

6 𝑫𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔 🎄 𝑹𝒂𝒇𝒆 𝑪𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒏

𝙳𝚊𝚢 1 - 𝙽𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝 - 𝚂𝚞𝚋!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚎. 𝙸𝚗 𝚊 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚏𝚝𝚜, 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚎 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍.

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚌𝚞𝚏𝚏 𝚞𝚜𝚎, 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚞𝚜𝚎, 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝, 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚜𝚞𝚋 𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎

𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

Rafe leaned against his kitchen counter, scrolling idly on his phone, when a firm knock echoed through his apartment. Curious, he swung the door open—and froze.  

There you stood, framed in the doorway, a vision in a sleek, velvet Santa corset that hugged your figure, paired with thigh-high boots that clicked confidently against the floor as you stepped inside. A playful smirk curled your lips, and over your shoulder, you carried a crimson sack adorned with jingling bells.  

“Well, well,” you said, your voice dripping with amusement. “Rafe Cameron. You’ve been very bad this year.”  

He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms with a grin. “Bad? Me? You must have the wrong guy.”  

“Nice try.” You pulled a scroll from the sack and unrolled it dramatically. “Let’s see here—late-night pranks, stealing the last slice of cake, and oh, this one’s my favorite: orchestrating the mistletoe ambush. Sound familiar?”  

His grin widened. “So, what happens now? You write a strongly worded letter to Santa?”  

“No.” You took a deliberate step closer, pulling a pair of fuzzy red handcuffs from the sack. “I’m here to make sure you get what you deserve.”  

Before he could protest, you snapped the cuffs around his wrists, tugging them gently behind his back. Rafe let out a low laugh, the sound reverberating in the quiet room.  

“This is adorable,” he teased. “You think you’re in charge now?”  

“Oh, I know I am.” Reaching into the sack again, you retrieved a peppermint-scented whip. The faint aroma filled the air as you traced the leather lightly over his chest, your gaze locking with his.  

His smirk faltered, just for a moment, before returning. “And what’s next? You interrogate me with Christmas carols?”  

You leaned in, your voice a sultry whisper. “Only if you don’t behave.”  

The tension crackled between you like the fire burning in the hearth behind him. The soft pop and hiss of the flames provided the perfect soundtrack to your game. The cool peppermint oil you dabbed onto your fingertips sent shivers through him as you traced it along his collarbone, the sharp scent mingling with the warm notes of pine and cinnamon from the room.  

“Explain your misdeeds, Rafe,” you said, your lips brushing against his ear. “And maybe, just maybe, I’ll go easy on you.”  

His voice was low, filled with challenge. “What if I have no regrets?”  

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you leaned in closer. “Then I guess we’ll have to keep going until you do.”  

Before he could respond, you captured his lips in a searing kiss. His hands flexed against the cuffs, testing the restraints, but they held firm. When the kiss broke, his gaze was darker, his smirk more dangerous.  

“This is cute,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “But let’s see how long you can hold the upper hand.”  

“Oh, Rafe,” you replied, brushing the whip lightly across his shoulder. “You’re not in a position to make demands.”  

Rafe leaned harder against the counter, his blue eyes narrowing as a slow, amused smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. The glint of challenge in his gaze told you he wasn’t about to let you win that easily, even with his hands restrained.  

“You’ve got my attention,” he said, voice smooth and teasing as he leaned his weight back, testing the cuffs just enough to make the chain jingle softly. “But you’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart.”  

You tilted your head, feigning innocence as you traced the handle of the peppermint-scented whip up the center of his chest, watching his shoulders tense beneath his thin t-shirt. “Dangerous? I thought I was just spreading some Christmas cheer,” you replied, your voice syrupy and sweet.  

“That’s what we’re calling this now?” Rafe shot back, his cocky grin still firmly in place, though his breathing had deepened just slightly under your careful ministrations. “You breaking into my apartment in a—” his eyes swept over your velvet corset and thigh-high boots, lingering longer than necessary, “—festive little number and slapping cuffs on me? Santa would not approve.”  

“Santa doesn’t need to know what I do, I’m here to make sure those on the naughty list are punished” you murmured, leaning in close until your lips hovered just a breath away from his. The scent of peppermint oil still lingered in the air, sharp and intoxicating, and you could practically feel the heat radiating from him. “Besides,” you continued, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper, “Santa‘a not in charge of this particular bad boy. I am.”  

Rafe exhaled a soft laugh, though his voice was lower now, tinged with something heavier. “That right? I’d be careful if I were you. Bad boys bite back.”  

“Oh, I’m counting on it.”  

The whip trailed lower, grazing just above the waistband of his jeans. Rafe shifted, his muscles flexing beneath the taut fabric of his shirt as he regarded you with a look that was equal parts playful and dark. There was something addicting about the way he stared at you—challenging you to keep going, daring you to see just how far you’d push him.  

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” he muttered, but the amused edge in his voice betrayed him.  

“Maybe I am,” you purred, brushing your lips along his jawline before pulling back with a playful grin. “But that’s not your concern, is it? You’re supposed to be reflecting on all those things I listed.”  

Rafe cocked a brow, lips curling into a devilish smirk as he tilted his head slightly. “Let’s see… the cake was worth it, the pranks were legendary, and the mistletoe ambush? You didn’t seem to mind that one.”  

Your laugh rang out as you gave him a teasing swat with the whip across his thigh—just enough to make him tense but not enough to wipe the grin from his face. “Careful, Cameron. You’re not exactly pleading your case here.”  

He rolled his shoulders, pushing off the counter slightly despite the restraints. “Maybe I don’t want to plead. Maybe I’m more interested in what happens next.”  

You stared him down for a beat, the heat in the room thickening like the glow of the fire crackling in the hearth in the living room. It was a dance—the way he pushed, the way you pulled back just enough to keep him guessing. Slowly, you unhooked the whip from where it hung on your fingers, letting it drop to the floor with a faint thud.  

“Then I guess we skip the misdeeds, for now,” you murmured, stepping closer until you were chest to chest, your fingers sliding under the edge of his shirt to trace the firm lines of his stomach. Rafe inhaled sharply, his gaze flickering to yours, darker now. “But if you don’t behave,” you added softly, tugging on the cuff chain just enough to remind him of his position, “I’ll have to find another way to punish you.”  

His smile widened, though there was a hint of challenge in his tone as he replied, “You really think you can handle me?”  

“Oh, I know I can.” You leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth before pulling back with a smirk of your own. “Now be a good boy, Rafe.”  

For the first time, Rafe didn’t have a comeback. His eyes followed you as you stepped back with a slow, deliberate confidence, the bells on your crimson sack jingling softly with every movement. The air between you buzzed like a live wire, a tension thick enough to taste.  

“Game on,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to you, as you disappeared around the corner.  

Rafe tilted his head back, letting out a low chuckle that echoed in the otherwise quiet kitchen, his pulse still racing. If you thought you’d won this round, you were in for a surprise—Rafe Cameron didn’t go down without a fight. 

You stride back into the kitchen, the soft jingle of bells you untied from the sack now around your boots the only sound in the room. Rafe's gaze snaps to you, and his expression shifts from smug confidence to stunned silence. His mouth parts slightly as his eyes rake over you, taking in every inch of your bare form save for the thigh-high boots that click against the floor. You hold his stare, the whip dangling loosely from your fingers, having picked it back up, exuding power with every deliberate step.  

You move him from the counter, taking his place. Without breaking eye contact, you lift the whip, running the tassels slowly, seductively, down your body. The teasing motion makes his breath hitch, his jaw tightening as he fights to maintain composure. When the whip trails lower, the tip grazing over your clit, your soft moans echo in the silence, sending him over the edge. Rafe instinctively moves closer, his desire unrestrained.  

“Uh-uh,” you chide, your voice sharp yet laced with amusement. The crack of the whip against his thigh is quick, precise, and commanding, earning a low grunt from him. “You don’t move unless I say so.”  

He retreats slightly, his defiance flickering as he clenches his fists, but you’re not about to let him off that easily. In one fluid motion, you grab his arm, pulling him toward you with force that surprises him, motioning him to his knees before you.  

“Simon says,” you purr, tilting his chin upward with the handle of the whip, your smirk wicked and daring. “Tongue out.”  

His compliance is immediate, his lips parting as his tongue slips out in obedient surrender, his gaze locked on yours, blazing with a mix of challenge and submission. The tension crackles between you, and you savor the control, knowing you’ve completely unraveled him. Rafe's breathing grows heavier as he kneels before you, his gaze locked on yours, dark and smoldering. The tension in the air is palpable.

"Good boy," you purr, running the whip’s tassels across his face, letting them linger just long enough to tease. His eyes are still on you, blazing with a mixture of defiance and submission, a combination that only fuels the fire building in your core.

You lean forward slightly, still perched on the counter, your movements slow and deliberate as you trace his jawline with the tip of your finger. “See? You can behave when you want to,” you murmur, a wicked grin tugging at your lips.

Rafe’s hands flex behind his back, his muscles straining against the temptation to reach for you. He’s teetering on the edge of control, and you can see it in the way his chest rises and falls, in the way his tongue stays perfectly still, waiting for your command.

“You like being told what to do, don’t you?” you ask, tilting your head as you slide the whip’s handle under his chin, lifting his face slightly. His response is a low, guttural sound that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Words, Rafe,” you chide, your voice dripping with authority.

His tongue retracts just enough to let him speak. “Only when it’s you,” he rasps, his voice thick with desire.

The admission makes your heart race, but you keep your composure, leaning back against the counter with an air of confidence. “Smart answer,” you reply, your tone light but edged with satisfaction. “Maybe you deserve a reward.”

Rafe’s eyes flicker with hope, his body tensing in anticipation, but you’re not about to make it that easy for him. You lean forward, your voice a sultry whisper as you say, “Simon says… don’t move a muscle.”

He stays perfectly still, sticking his tongue back out. His obedience is both surprising and intoxicating. You trace the whip’s tassels down his chest, letting them skim over his abdomen before pulling them back up with a sharp flick. The motion draws a low growl from him, his restraint beginning to crack under your control.

“Sweet boy,” you praise again, watching the way his pupils dilate at the words. You lean down until your lips are just inches from his ear and add, “But don’t think for a second you’re in charge tonight.”

Rafe’s response is a slow, deliberate grin, his eyes dark with unspoken promises that send a shiver down your spine. Without hesitation, you step closer, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging firmly, guiding his head toward you. His lips part, his breath warm against your skin as you lower yourself onto his face, and in an instant, you lay your pussy on his flattened tongue, feeling it as it explores every inch of you.

The initial contact makes your body jolt, your movements instinctively faltering as a rush of pleasure courses through you. You feel the curve of a smile form on his face, the subtle vibration of his amusement only heightening the sensation.  

“You enjoying this as much as I am?” you ask breathlessly, your gaze meeting his smoldering eyes. He nods slightly in response, the motion teasing you further as he doubles down on his efforts.  

Your rhythm builds, each grind of your hips sending waves of heat through you. “Flick your tongue, baby,” you command, your voice cracking with need. The instant he complies, the tip of his tongue swirling at your entrance, a loud moan escapes your lips. You feel the wetness dripping down, slickening his cheeks and chin as he moans into you, the vibrations pushing you closer to the edge.  

You brace yourself against the counter, your knuckles turning white as you struggle to maintain control. But Rafe knows exactly what he’s doing—each flick, swirl, and shift of his tongue driving you higher, faster. The fire in your stomach burns fiercely, igniting with an intensity you can’t suppress. Slowing your movements, you try to hold on a moment longer, grinding against him in a desperate attempt to draw out the pleasure. You’re supposed to be in control. You can't give in that easily.   

Then, he shifts his head just slightly, hitting the perfect spot and his nose rocking against your clit, your resolve crumbles. A shudder wracks through you as your pace quickens involuntarily, your climax crashing over you with devastating force. You cry out, gripping the counter to steady yourself as waves of pleasure leave you trembling in his grasp.  

As the aftershocks ripple through you, you try to lift yourself away, but the hunger in his eyes stops you. You move back down slightly, his mouth resuming its work as he laps up every last trace of your release. You melt under his touch, the world narrowing to the warmth of his lips and the unrelenting focus in his gaze. He knows how to get you even when you don’t want him too.  

You help him up to his feet, moving to the living room and unlocking the cuffs. “Get naked, baby.” 

He complies without hesitation, his hands moving swiftly to shed his clothing until every barrier between you is gone. His body is a masterpiece in the soft glow of the dimly lit room, each line and curve illuminated like a work of art. Yet his focus remains entirely on you, his piercing gaze locked with yours, a mix of obedience and raw anticipation evident in his posture as he stands still, awaiting your command.  

With a smirk, you step toward him, the clink of the cuffs in your hand drawing his attention. “Hands,” you instruct, your voice soft but firm. He raises them obediently, and you secure the cuffs around his wrists, this time in front of him. His lips twitch upward in subtle recognition of the shift—knowing you’re granting him just enough freedom for what you have planned.  

You guide him to the couch, pushing him gently until he sinks down onto the cushions, the plush fabric contrasting with the tension in his body. He looks up at you, eyes dark with want, but he doesn’t move, his cuffed hands resting in his lap, waiting for permission.  

“Good boy,” you murmur, straddling his waist, your thighs framing his hips as you settle into his lap. His sharp intake of breath at the contact sends a thrill through you, his skin warm against yours. He goes to brush his fingers along your stomach. 

You push his hands down and  lean in close, brushing your lips over his ear as you whisper, “I’m in control, Rafe, remember? You don’t touch unless I say. Understood?”  

“Yes,” he replies, his voice low and husky, the word almost a growl.  

Satisfied, you trail your hands down his chest, your nails grazing lightly against his skin, earning a sharp inhale from him. His restrained hands twitch, but he doesn’t lift them, his compliance making you grin. You grind your hips slowly up and down his length, teasing him as your bodies connect, the friction igniting a fire between you.  

“You’re doing so well,” you purr, placing your hands on his shoulders for balance as you continue to move. His jaw tightens, his head tipping back slightly, exposing the curve of his throat as he fights the urge to take control.  

Leaning back, you meet his gaze, your movements deliberate and tantalizingly slow. “Tell me what you want, Rafe,” you tease, your voice laced with mock innocence.  

“You,” he rasps, his voice strained. “I want all of you.”  

You smile wickedly, leaning in so close that your breath mingles with his, the tension crackling between you. His eyes dart to your lips just before you nip at his bottom lip, eliciting a low growl from deep in his chest. You pull back just enough to meet his darkened gaze, a teasing smirk playing on your lips.  

“Then you’re going to have to earn it,” you purr, your voice dripping with challenge, each word deliberate and tantalizing.  

Rafe’s jaw tightens, his lips parting slightly as if to respond, but you cut him off with a finger pressed lightly against his mouth. “No talking. Just listening,” you command softly, your eyes glinting with authority.  

He nods, his compliance stirring something primal in you. Moving with purpose, you take his cuffed wrists in your hands, guiding them up to rest on the back of the couch. His muscles flex under your touch, but he holds steady, his breaths coming heavier as you climb onto his lap, straddling his waist.  

“Good boy,” you murmur, leaning forward to trail your lips along the sharp edge of his jawline. He shudders beneath you, his body instinctively leaning into yours. 

You reach out, running your hands down his chest, feeling every taut line of his torso. “You want to touch me, don’t you?” you ask, your voice a teasing whisper against his ear.  

“Yes,” he replies, his voice rough, barely above a growl.  

You sit up, breaking contact with him, scratching your nails lightly on his neck, watching the way his body responds, the way he moves into your touch, the way his hips shift beneath you trying to feel you again. “Not yet,” you say firmly, smirking at the soft groan of frustration he lets out.  

“I’m starting to think you enjoy torturing me,” he says, his voice low and filled with a mix of amusement and desperation.  

You laugh softly, your hands sliding down his arms until your fingers meet his cuffed wrists. “It’s not torture,” you reply, leaning closer so your lips are just a breath away from his. “It’s discipline.”  

Before he can reply, you press your lips to his, your body pressing firmly against his. His hands flex in the cuffs, desperate to touch you, but you keep him in place, controlling every movement, every sensation.  

You lean into him, lips ghosting over his cheek and then trailing a path down his neck. His scent, musky and intoxicating, fills your senses as your fingers continue their feigned innocence, brushing “accidentally” over his length. Each fleeting touch makes him flinch, his body tensing beneath you. His breathing is ragged now, his chest rising and falling as he struggles to maintain control.  

“Do you want it, baby?” you whisper into his ear, your voice smooth and dripping with seduction.  

“Yes,” Rafe replies immediately, the desperation in his voice making you smile.  

“How bad?” you purr, pulling back just enough to see his flushed face.  

“Bad,” he groans, his voice thick and raw with need.  

You tilt your head, pretending to consider. “Hm, you’ve got to convince me, sweet boy.”  

He breaks. “I need you so fucking bad,” he blurts out, his voice cracking as tears well in his eyes. “I need you to sit on my cock and fuck the shit out of me already. It hurts—I fucking need you.” The words tumble out of him, uninhibited, his desperation painted clearly on his face as a single tear escapes and slides down his cheek.  

Your heart clenches at the sight, and you soften for just a moment, cupping his face in your hands. Gently, you wipe away his tears with your thumbs, your gaze locking with his. “Okay, okay,” you soothe, your voice a mix of teasing and genuine affection. “I’ll give you what you need.”  

His eyes burn with gratitude and unrestrained hunger as you move back closer to him, your boots jingling softly with every move. The sound only heightens the tension, each chime a reminder of the game you’ve played all night. You pull him to sit back up, your body pressing against his in all the right ways.  

Without wasting another second, you position yourself, taking hold of his length and guiding him to your entrance. Slowly, deliberately, you sink down onto him, a gasp escaping your lips as he fills you completely. Rafe throws his head back, a guttural groan escaping his throat as his hands, still cuffed, flex uselessly in front of him.  

You pause for a moment, adjusting, letting the sensation of him inside you consume you. His eyes find yours, a mix of awe and raw need etched across his face. Then, with a wicked grin, you lift yourself and slam back down, earning a deep moan from him that reverberates through the room.  

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growls, his voice rough with pleasure.  

You don’t respond, too focused on your movements. Rising and falling, you set a relentless rhythm, the bells on your boots creating a hypnotic jingle with each bounce. Your hands grip his shoulders for balance, and when that’s not enough, you reach for his neck, steadying yourself as you ride him harder, faster.  

Rafe’s hips buck beneath you, trying to meet your movements, but the cuffs keep him from taking control. “You’re killing me, baby,” he groans, his voice strained.  

“You’re mine tonight,” you breathe, leaning forward so your lips are just a whisper away from his. “And you don’t do anything unless I let you.”  

The tension between you builds, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Your nails dig into his neck as you throw your head back, moaning his name. The sounds of your passion fill the room, blending with the soft chime of the bells and the steady rhythm of your bodies moving together.  

Rafe’s eyes never leave you, his gaze full of adoration and desperation. “Please, baby,” he murmurs, his voice breaking. “Let me—”  

“Not yet,” you cut him off, your movements only growing more determined. “You’ll take it until I say you’ve had enough.”

You feel the fire in your core intensifying, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge. The look in Rafe’s eyes—pure, unadulterated lust mixed with helpless devotion—only adds fuel to the fire. His chest heaves beneath you, his muscles taut as he strains against the cuffs, desperate to touch you, to take control, but completely at your mercy.  

“Fuck, you’re so big baby,” you gasp, your voice shaky as the pleasure overtakes you. Your hands grip his neck tighter for balance as your rhythm grows erratic, each bounce sending shockwaves through your body.  

Rafe groans deeply, his head falling back against the couch as his hips try to meet your movements. “You’re gonna kill me, baby,” he growls, his voice thick with need. “Let me touch you—please, I can’t—”  

“No,” you pant, cutting him off as you lean forward, your lips brushing against his ear. “This is about me and you trying to get yourself on my nice list.”  

The heat in your body reaches its peak, your movements becoming frenzied as you chase the release building within you. But it’s not enough—you need more. You slow just slightly and meet Rafe’s eyes, your breath hitching as you command, “Rub my clit, Rafe. Now.”  

His eyes widen, and a flicker of relief crosses his face as you guide his cuffed hands to your center. The moment his fingers connect with you, you shiver, his touch electric against your sensitive skin. He moves in slow, deliberate circles, the pressure perfect, and your body responds instantly.  

“Just like that,” you moan, your head falling back as your hips grind against his hand. The combined sensation of his cock inside you and his fingers expertly working your clit pushes you dangerously close to the edge.  

“Oh, fuck,” you cry out, your voice trembling as the fire in your stomach ignites into a full-blown inferno. Your walls clench around him, your body trembling as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. Your moans fill the room, loud and unabashed, your nails digging into his shoulders as you ride out the high.  

Rafe watches you, completely mesmerized, his own control hanging by a thread. The way your body moves, the way your face twists in pleasure—it’s enough to drive him insane.  

“God, you’re so fucking perfect,” he groans, his voice low and raw. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

You slow down your movements, still riding out your high but preventing him from his. One last form of dominance as you drag out his pleasure. Grinding down onto him is painful movements.

“I need you to move,” he pleads.

“Tell me why you deserve a reward?” You giggle, mocking him slightly.

“Fuck- I’ll be so good to you. You can have all the pieces of cake. No more scaring you before bed. Do whatever you fucking want to me, just let me fucking come!” Tears form in his eyes again.

As you come down from your high, your body still shaking slightly, you glance down at him with a wicked grin. “You’ve convinced me, you’ve been so good, baby,” you murmur, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Now it’s your turn.”  

His eyes darken with hunger, and he lets out a relieved moan as you start moving again. This time, it’s for him, your hips rolling in a way that has him trembling beneath you.  

“Fuck, I’m so close,” he groans, his voice breaking as his hips jerk uncontrollably.  

“Come for me, Rafe,” you whisper, your voice soft but commanding. “I want to feel you lose control.”  

That’s all it takes. His head falls back, his mouth opening in a silent cry as he reaches his peak. His body tenses, his hips bucking up into you as he spills inside you, the cuffs clinking faintly as his hands flex uselessly.  

You slow your movements again, guiding him through his release, your hands moving to cup his face. His eyes flutter open, meeting yours with a look of pure adoration and exhaustion.  

“Fuck,” he breathes, a shaky laugh escaping his lips. “You’re unreal.”  

You smile softly, brushing a damp strand of hair from his forehead. “I told you, Rafe. You don’t get anything unless I say so.”  

“Then remind me to never get on your bad side,” he chuckles, his voice still thick with satisfaction.  

“I think you liked it though,” you reply through a smirk.

You press a gentle kiss to his lips, the intensity of the moment giving way to something softer. You unlock the cuffs for a final time and you both savor the quiet aftermath, your bodies tangled together on the couch, the only light coming from his small Christmas tree in the corner of his living room.

Tags- @maybankslover @eringaitskill @luissa266 @lolll505 @dayyzlol @calaryssia @eg-dr3amer3 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @rafestar @writtenbyhollywood @leilanizcals @rafestoothbrush @weluvwbb @itsforeverandalwayz @butterfly-ibuki @percysley @siredbtches @bigenergy777 @aupernatural-teenwolflover @slut4you @rafegf-real @skywalker0809 @whytheylosttheirminds @starkeysprincess @rafeyscurtainbangs @cameronsprincess @itneverendshere @zya8tracks @httpsdrewstarkey @angelicameron @littlelamy @kieeslove @snowtargaryen @nemesyaaa @etheraltides @starkeysprincess @cooper8224 @hockeybabe87 @rafeyscurtainbangs @rafescokewhore @drewsephrry @rafeswif3

[my-my-my]

KINKMAS DAY 2 (AKA KINKTOBER DAY 14) - Humiliation: Kisuke Urahara x Female Reader

Summary: It’s been centuries since Kisuke had a crush, and it had to be on a random customer. Crushes were irrational, but dealing with them by some “light” stalking and “deceptive” business practices, are totally logically, right?

TW: MDNI! Deception, cyber stalking, slight humiliation, more like reader is embarrassed around Kisuke since they both mutually have a crush on each other. Rope play, oral sex (male and female receiving), face fucking, anal fingering, use of pet names and dirty talk.

Word count: 3716

Read on AO3 here.

Kisuke stared at the blinking light on his phone, exhaling the smoke from his pipe as he looked back into the night sky. The moon shone brightly on Urahara Shoten, and in the distance, partygoers, night owls and everyone in between, were enjoying themselves. Normally, Kisuke would persuade Tessai, Jinta and Ururu to coax bystanders for some late-night shopping, but Kisuke was preoccupied tonight, as he watched the blinking light move around on the map.

He was distracted. He was anxious. He was confused.

The logical side that Kisuke operated on almost 99.9% of the time knew that this was a crush. A simple, childish crush on a random customer.

He found himself thinking of all the possibilities of having you visit his store again. Of hearing your voice, of seeing you smile and laugh. Kisuke could effortlessly lay plans, miniscule in size, but pushing you into a domino effect leading back to him.

But his feelings for you made him restless.

It left him uncomfortable.

He easily laughed and flirted with you at the store. Yet you were so kind and took him stride. Your gaze was gentle as you listened to him earnestly. Kisuke was always one for pranks, and yet… he felt nervous. His cheeks would be tinted pink as you listened to him try to tease you, and you politely following along. How you would ask him questions about the various Shinigami items, not knowing their true value. How your eyes lit up at what he shared. You were curious, kind and gentle.

Kisuke exhaled more smoke from his pipe. You were so different from him, yet so alike in wanting to know and understand the world around you.

This anxiety reminded him of when he first became captain. The side-stepping and uncertainty of how he stood as a captain of a squad, and the fallout that came from the Vizard incident. It left Kisuke perplexed.

Although… that wasn’t quite true. The discomfort he was feeling wasn’t quite like that time when he was younger.

Maybe it was the fact he saw you smile at someone else, another mere human. A smile different from the one you gave him. In a bizarre twist of fate, seeing you chatting with another man at a café. You were laughing, touching the stranger’s arm, smiling brightly while Kisuke watched in the distance. Kisuke felt strangely humiliated. Was he not special in your eyes?

But Kisuke was not one to dwell on his feelings. His immediate remedy was to share a bottle of sake with another woman. He charmed his way between her legs, as he watched her bob her head up and down his cock, all the while thinking of you. He wondered if making a gigai of you would solve his problems…

But all of this was foolish Kisuke realized. While he was certain he could make a physical replica of you, your soul was another thing entirely.

And besides, wasn’t the real person better than any gigai? He mused to himself, wondering what perfection and imperfection he would fail to capture if he even attempted making a replica of you.

And now at Urahara Shoten, under the brightly lit moon, Kisuke would anxiously watch the little marker of you creep closer to the shop.

Your first visit to the store was seared into his memory. You took your time to inspect everything, curiosity shining bright in your eyes. You didn’t hesitate to ask him questions, and you were generous in what you had bought. You asked if he had a newsletter or something so you could sign up for “deals and sales” (as if he had any to begin with).

“My, my” Kisuke waved his fan, trying to hide the blush on his face as his eyes drifted to your cleavage. “I do have a newsletter, my dear.” He gave a sweet smile as he conjured a fake piece of paper behind him. “Scan the QR code, and you can input your email for our newsletter.” It was so easy for him to lie; it was second nature really. Yet you didn’t hesitate as you pulled out your phone and scanned the fake code, that let him have access to your email and number.

Of course he didn’t have a newsletter, yet he created one tailored just for you. Of things that would interest you, of things that would make you visit him. You were so ecstatic with everything he offered.

Yet it wasn’t enough. He mused, thinking what that stranger had compared to him, a “mere honest, handsome, perverted businessman.” (To which you had laughed at.)

Kisuke entered his shop and milled around, when the familiar sound of the door charm rang.

“How late do you keep your shop open for, Urahara-san?” You asked as you quietly entered the store. And as if on cue, Kisuke whipped out his fan and fanned himself.

“Friday nights are a good source of customers, my dear.” He teased, his eyes filled with mirth. “I mean you’re here, are you not?”

You laughed, “I suppose that’s true.”

“Were you out tonight?” Kisuke asked casually, but his eyes were focused on you, inspecting your figure as you picked up your favourite candy.

“Sort of, but my plans kind of fell through.” You sighed, your voice despondent. Was that disappointment he heard?

“I’ve been told I’m excellent listener, if you want me to lend an ear.” Kisuke lied, smiling as you looked at him with hesitancy.

“No, it’s ok, Urahara-san. It’s pretty silly, I don’t want to take up your time.” You gave him an apologetic smile, “but thank you for the offer.”

“You won’t be taking any of my time.” Kisuke said, as he came closer to you. You couldn’t help but look away as his presence drew closer. It surprised you by how big he was, so you tried to ignore his growing presence by reading the ingredient list of some random candy box.

“I’ll be closing up shop in a few minutes.” Kisuke said, watching you. Lowering his voice, he whispered, “but I have a bottle of sake we can share, since the night is still young.” He smiled, seeing your eyes widen.

“Oh no, save that for yourself!” You nervously laughed.

“Then how about…” Kisuke paused, tapping his fan to his chin, “you can have any drink and snack here free of charge!” He grinned, as you stared at him in surprise.

“Really? Any?” You exclaimed, then narrowed your eyes, “there’s no hidden cost?”

Kisuke gave a wink, as he ushered you to the back of the store. He had spun kido to the entrance to lock the store for the remainder of the night.

With your favourite drink in hand, you were surprised to see a small table ready with sake and two cups. You felt slightly guilty for rejecting his sake offer, but you weren’t in the mood for alcohol tonight.

It was strange, to be so close to Urahara-san, you thought. He made himself comfortable and poured out his cup of a sake and took a sip, as you took a sip of your own drink. The two of you sat in comfortable silence. He had on his loose fitting samue, his bare chest right in front of your view, and his face remained unshaven, yet the bucket hat was gone. His blonde locks looked unkempt, yet his grey eyes appeared focused and clear.

“So what happened today?” Kisuke said, looking straight into your eyes.

You felt like the room was getting smaller. Was this Kisuke being serious? He looked concerned for you.

And now you felt even guiltier.

“Oh this is so stupid.” You muttered.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Kisuke said, “you can tell me anything.”

“Promise you won’t laugh?” You asked, nervously.

“Your secret is safe with me.” He winked at you again. He’s too handsome… you thought.

Taking a deep breath, you matched his stare, “I was meeting up with someone who I thought had a mutual interest in an activity,” Kisuke raised his eyebrows, as your voice began to waver, “but they had someone else.”

“What was the activity?” Kisuke asked, as he leaned his face closer to your side of the table. You felt your body grow hot and out of nervousness, you gripped on to his table as you tried to steel yourself.

“Iwannabetiedup.” You stammered. Your body felt on fire from what you just shared.

“And they weren’t interested in it?” Kisuke asked, without missing a beat.

“Oh well… they said they were into it, but then they said they met someone else… so I never really tried it with them.” You lowered your gaze, taking a swig from your drink. It wasn’t like there were feelings involved, you tried to rationalize, just two people who had similar interests and need to scratch the same itch. “I guess I’m kind of disappointed.” You sighed, “I was looking forward to it.”

“Were you interested because of them?” Kisuke asked.

You shook your head quickly, “not really.”

“If you’re interested in ropes and being tied…” Kisuke took another sip of sake, smirking at all the ideas he had formulating now. “I can help you with that.”

You spat out your drink, “what?!”

“I said I can help you with that.” He gave you a cheerful smile.

You had never felt this kind of embarrassment before, Urahara-san was a sweet, intelligent shopkeeper.

“…mere honest, handsome, perverted businessman”

Those words rang clear in your head as you snapped back to look at him. Perverted??

Well, yes, you did catch him a few times staring at your chest, or how intensely he would look at you whenever you shopped.

You both sat in silence as you mulled over your thoughts. “Have you done this before?”

“Tying up beautiful women? You’d be the first.” Kisuke teased, grinning wide at you.

“Somehow, I doubt that, but no, I meant using ropes in general.”

Kisuke gave you a gentle smile as he reached out across the table to squeeze your hand, “yes. You can trust me.”

And with that, he escorted you to another area behind his store.

You didn’t expect Urahara Shoten to have such a massive, underground space, yet here you were. The shop was so small on the outside, yet this area was huge. But before you could ask any questions, you entered a room, with a modest sized bed, closet, desk, and lamp.

“Please sit on the bed, my dear.” Kisuke said, leading you towards it. As you sat, you watched him rummage through his closet, where pulled out a brilliant red rope.

Your mind was racing thinking of what was going to happen, so much so that you didn’t hear Kisuke’s question.

He gave you another gentle smile and repeated his question, “do you want to keep your clothes on or off as I tie you up?”

Your mouth became dry and you became nervous again. It had been a while since you were last intimate with someone, and for some reason, you felt self-conscious in front of Urahara-san. When you looked up at him, you immediately noticed the lecherous glint in his eyes.

And without a word, you took off your clothes, avoiding his gaze. You sat nude on his bed, giving him a shy smile.

“Before we start. Let’s have some rules.” Kisuke murmured, cupping your face in the palm of his hand. His thumb ran over your lips as he continued to speak, “I won’t gag you tonight, so think of two words. One to say when you’re hesitant, another to say when you want me to stop.”

You nodded your head, “how about ‘candy’ and ‘rice’?”

Kisuke chuckled, “perfect. How are you feeling now?”

“A bit nervous, but I trust you.”

Kisuke gave you another smile and gently kissed you on the lips. You threw your arms around his neck, pulling him down on to the bed with you. You passionately kissed him back, but he pulled away.

“I want you to put your arms behind you and spread your legs.” You nodded and complied with his requests. You held your breath in as you felt him secure your arms together, forcing your chest out.

“Can you flex your fingers?” Kisuke asked, as you easily moved your fingers. Your wrists were tied securely, but not to the point of damage.

Kisuke moved down your body, kissing different parts as he placed and secured your body. Your legs were bounded to the corners of the bed, but there was still more rope. Kisuke took the remaining piece and snapped it, inspecting it with great detail, before locking eyes with you. He gave you a mischievous smirk as he made knots to the rope, then tying them between your breasts, with the final piece… your eyes widened as you watched his hand reach down between your legs.

“CANDY!” You shouted, forcing Kisuke to stop.

“What’s wrong?” Embarrassment filled you as Kisuke looked at you with concern.

“I just needed a bit of a breather” you murmured, eyes casting downwards. “Can I have another kiss?” You asked.

Kisuke chuckled, “just a kiss?” watching you avoid his gaze. But he steadied himself between your legs and kissed you deeply on the lips. He slowly pulled away, watching you try to catch your breath. “May I continue?” Kisuke asked, kissing you gently on your forehead.

You took another deep breath, but looked straight at him, “yes.”

Kisuke nodded and firmly held the rope and placed it between your wet folds. His eyes were concentrated, although you swore you briefly saw a flash of appreciation. You whimpered as the red rope rubbed your clit, while Kisuke secured it back to your tied arms.

Kisuke moved away from the bed. You blushed deeply as you saw him gaze at your body with such intensity. He wasn’t appreciating his handiwork, but you. His lust-blown grey eyes were feeding off every inch of your body, and the ropes and bindings amplified your breasts, thighs and ass that drove him mad.

“Urahara-san…” you murmured, flexing your fingers and toes as your body relished at the feeling of being bounded like this.

“Please, call me Kisuke.” He smiled at you fondly.

“Kisuke, can I try something else with you?” You asked, trying to arch your body to get a better look at him.

He gave you a sly smile. “I think I know what it is you want to try.”

You gulped as he began to slide his samue off his shoulders, revealing broad shoulders and chest, and firm abdomen, with hair leading down beneath his pants. You licked your lips as you watched his hand hover the drawstring of his pants, before he undid them, pushing aside his briefs, leaving him as nude as you.

Kisuke grabbed his cock, as he lazily pumped himself, watching you stare at him. You weren’t shy about it at all, with the way your eyes were glazed, licking your lips fervently. He climbed back into bed and straddled your face between his legs, his cock hovering just above your lips.

“This is what you wanted to try, yes?” He asked, amusement filling his voice. You nodded your head and opened your mouth, sucking the tip of his cock with enthusiasm.

Kisuke smiled and patted your hair as you tried to take him deeper. With your arms behind your back, your legs bounded, your upper body strength was limited. Kisuke threaded his fingers in your hair, gently holding your scalp as he guided you further down his length. He let out an appreciative groan, moaning your name as you took him to the base.

Then he pulled you away, watching strands of your saliva link you to his erection. Your breathing was heavy, but you looked up at him with an intense wanton look. Kisuke smirked at the sight, grabbing his cock and gently tapping your face and lips with it.

“Are you a greedy slut for any cock? Or just mine.”

You tried to swipe your tongue on his cock each time it came close to your lips, whining when he would pull it away from you.

“Yours!” You whined again, as you tried to make your body move forward to taste him again.

“So honest,” he laughed, a fiendish smile appearing on his face, “but since you answered honestly, you get a reward.” To which he placed his cock back on your lips, and you happily took him again. You moaned around him as he guided you down his cock again but winced when his grip tightened.

Your eyes rolled as you felt him slam his cock down your throat, fucking you with your face. But without warning, he let go, your head falling back to the bed as he slapped your face with his saliva-covered cock.

Kisuke didn’t say anything as he moved back down your body. He roughly grabbed and massaged your breasts, pinching your nipples before taking turns to suck on each one. His mind already wandered to the kinds of devices he’ll have on hand to clamp them next time.

Kiss after kiss, nip after nip, Kisuke traveled down to your sopping wet pussy. Your juices soaked the rope to a deeper red.

“My, my, you really are a rope slut aren’t you.” Kisuke teased, gently tugging the rope, earning more moans from you. He hooked a finger under the piece of rope to see your slick, dripping cunt. He immediately kissed your clit, lapping at it with fervor. He traced his finger around your wet hole, satisfied with how wet you were. You were crying out his name, bucking your hips, but the ropes provided little relief.

Kisuke stopped his ministrations, as he felt your legs quiver and body tense. Your orgasm was approaching, but he wanted to savour you for longer. He lifted his head and looked down at you. Your body was now covered in bite marks, and deep red markings from where the rope had shifted in place.

You were magnificent, and all his.

“Princess, do you want me to continue?” He asked, as he caressed your saliva and tear covered cheek.

“Yes, please Kisuke.”

He pulled the piece of rope aside from your pussy and lined his cock to your entrance. In one swift thrust, he entered you, moaning your name as you tightened around him.

With heavy-lidded eyes, Kisuke relished the feeling of you around him. You felt so full on the other hand. Although you were soaking wet, your sensitive pussy felt stretched full from his heavy, thick cock. Kisuke shuddered as you tightened again, as he began to slowly roll his hips.

But before you could get used to it, Kisuke stopped and pulled away.

“Kisuke, please!” You begged, confused as to why he stopped so suddenly. His cock was still erect and now covered in your juices. Without so much a word, he moved down to your legs, undoing the bindings. Yet before you could flex and roll your feet, he flipped you over on the bed.

“Keep your legs together, my dear.” Kisuke instructed, to which you obeyed. You felt the rope now wrapped around your ankles as he tied them together, but he also undid the rope slipped between your pussy and ass.

Hovering above you, Kisuke spread your ass cheeks apart, seeing the puckered hole. He would have another device ready for your ass for another time, tonight your pussy was the sole focus of his “research.”

He pushed his cock through your pussy again, earning another moan from you. Kisuke didn’t pause like last time though, he immediately began thrusting in and out of your pussy, his hips snapping against you.

Letting go of your bottom, Kisuke reached forward and grabbed your hair, pulling you back. He smirked as he watched your eyes roll, a small trickle of drool escaping your lips as you moaned his name.

Kisuke’s thrusts were relentless as he quickened his pace. He pushed his body weight on top of you, every so often lifting himself up to spank your bottom. Your mind was in a frenzy, as you felt something play with your clit, while having Kisuke fill your pussy continuously. You were lost to the pleasure, as Kisuke pulled orgasms out of your body as if he knew exactly where to push your limit. You also felt the faint pressure of his thumb near your asshole, but the simultaneous sensations from your clit and his cock clouded your mind.

Kisuke smirked as his thumb pushed its way into your ass, you moaned again. You turned your head to look at him, but Kisuke grabbed your head and pushed you down into the mattress, increasing his thrusts.

Your eyes rolled again as another orgasm ripped through your body. The obscene sound of Kisuke’s cock stuffing your pussy filled your ears, along with his pants and moans. You vaguely felt him shudder, pulling himself out of your sore pussy. You whined at the loss, before you felt hot splatter land on your pussy and ass, and the familiar pressure of his thumb and another finger pushing his cooling cum into your ass and pussy.

Closing your eyes, you felt Kisuke’s hand over your own arms, as the ropes slide off your body. He gently massaged your wrists and ankles, kissing them tenderly. Your body was sore, as your eyes fluttered to stay awake.

“I should…” you murmured, struggling to get up, “go home.”

Kisuke patted your head gently whispering your name softly, “you’re in no shape to go home. You’re staying the night.”

“Too much” you yawned, “trouble for you, Kisuke?”

Kisuke gave you a teasing smile, “no trouble for me.” His hands wandered down your ass, giving them a soft squeeze, “but you can ‘thank’ me in the morning.”

You yawned again, as sleep began to fill your mind, “you really are…” you mumbled, as Kisuke tucked himself next to you, wrapping his arms around your body, “a handsome, perverted businessman.” You murmured into his chest.

“I said I was honest too.” He laughed, kissing the top of your head, but you were already asleep.

Oh well, Kisuke thought. His mind racing at all the other things you two could try together.

Wow, finally. We're nearing the end. Took me 3 months to write 15 chapters, jesus lol.

The chapter title on AO3 is from Desire's song, "Under Your Spell," but I was also listening to Kensuke Ushio's "Supernatural Power" as well while writing the latter half of this chapter.

I struggled with this prompt at first. The original plan for this prompt was WILDLY different. I was originally thinking of humiliation where Kisuke is being humiliated, but my sister and I were talking about this, how do you humiliate someone who is... pretty much shameless? It was hard for me to grasp.

The first draft I wrote for this prompt was something along the lines where Kisuke is a serial cheater on reader. I do plan on posting that one, but more as a one-shot with possibly no smut. I'm still undecided lol.

Thanks for your patience and for reading! The final chapter is AIZEN!!!!!!!

[multifandomworldsposts]

KINKMAS DAY 4: Slutty Pics

pairing: kayce dutton x fem!reader

warning: neck kisses, unprotected sex (pls be careful!!)

3RD PERSON’S POV

She sent him something, something interesting. He checked his phone, it’s a picture, a slutty picture, he’s going to go home to see why she sent him a picture like this while he’s working.

When he got home, he sees her in what she sent him several minutes ago, a black lacey lingerie, he wanted her, wanted her bad. He went up to her to make her go to the wall, she already knew what will happen to her when she sent the picture of her.

He picked her up to take them to their bedroom, he sets her on the bed and he unzips the back of her lingerie to make her take it off and make him see her nude body.

He begins to kiss her neck, to make her giggle at the way he kissing her. She makes him look at her and then she begins to kiss him and she pulls him onto her body, he pulls her to hug her and takes them to the pillows.

She helped him out of his clothes so they could do something that they haven’t done in a while because of them working all the time.

They make love for hours. The way he went in and out of her, the way she moaned and gasp at the way he did it.

After a while, you can hear heavy breathing by them being done with what they’re doing.

‘I hope I can wear lingerie once in a while.’ She thought in her head.

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

A Christmas Carol, 2009

Pairing: Carlisle Cullen x Reader

Word count: 2k

Notes: ✨And so comes the end of kinkmas✨ I am so freaking glad this is over in the way of I made this difficult on myself and it was funny. But also because I DONT HAVE MY PHONE ANYMORE so I’m not able to you know research things…..ain’t no way I’m googling certain things on this loaner phone

Carlisle watches you from across the room. You’re standing next to Bella, your face turned to the wall as you push your body into it, trying to stifle your giggles. She was supposed to be watching out for you, but instead of keeping an eye on your anxiety levels, she’d just decided to pump you full of champagne, eggnog, and whatever else was on those little trays floating around. 

He’s just about to come over when you turn around, your back against the wall, your cheeks flushed. You make direct eye contact with him, and if he had one his heart would be beating out of his chest. You narrow your eyes seductively, biting the edge of your lip and he looks at the floor, chuckling to himself before he starts to walk over, he barely makes it three steps before someone stops him to talk. 

Unfortunately, that was how it had been all night. You’d stayed by his side as long as you could, but eventually, he let you go to roam around and stop listening to all of his incredibly boring conversations. 

He’s talking to Dr. Teagarden when he feels your hands sliding around his sides and splaying across his torso. He puts his hands over yours as he continues talking, acting like you’re not even there. He feels you lay your head against his back and he smiles a little, rubbing the backs of your hands soothingly while he discusses god knows what because he certainly forgot as soon as you came over. 

Dr. Teagarden- John, is asking him about some blood compatibility when suddenly your hands start to creep up further, smoothing over the front of his expensive shirt and his broad chest. He smacks his hands over yours before you can squeeze his pecs and pulls your arm to bring you around front. 

“Hello Bambi,” He says, cupping your face, your skin is so hot against his cool hands and you lean into his touch, smiling at the pet name for a moment. 

“Hi” you purr seductively, Carlisle can tell from that look in your eye you’ve definitely had a bit too much. Edward passes by, his voice for Carlisle only. 

“At least she’s still standing” 

You put your chin against his chest, your arms going around his waist as you look up at him. Your cheeks are flushed from the alcohol, it makes him smile a little, the way you cling to him innocently.

Or as innocently as you possibly can. He can feel the tension rolling off you in waves and it makes him shift a bit more against you.

“Can we go home?” 

Edward has taken John’s attention and now Carlisle’s is completely on you. He runs his hands over your hair, the coldness a welcoming touch to your heated skin. He leans down, kissing your neck softly and inhaling slowly. He feels you shudder underneath him and he smirks.

“Home huh?” 

“Before anyone else gets there” You whisper, standing on your toes and kissing his jaw. He pulls you away from him, keeping you at arm's length before picking you up, you squeal and he kisses your cheek. 

“Edward? Please let everyone know I’m taking Y/N home” 

The look on his face is priceless as he stares at you, staring at Carlisle. He gags a little and waves him off

“Yeah…okay. I’ll make sure I call you first when we’re on our way home” 

“That would probably be best.” 

“Have I ever told you how pretty you are?” You say quietly as you trace the shell of his ear, you’d completely thrown all road safety out of the window as you climbed into his lap as soon as he started driving. He wraps his arm tightly around you, kissing your neck as he steers with one hand, your hands roam over his chest desperately, unbuttoning his shirt as you go. Your fingertips ghost over his hard chest and you squirm a little, rocking yourself on his hardening cock. 

“You keep that up and we’re not going to make it home” 

“Maybe I don’t want to make it home” 

“Y/N” He growls as he finally pulls away from your warmth, looking at the road “I’m not getting in that backseat with you” 

You frown and look away from him, your insides simmering to the point of boiling. 

“Fine, I’ll go by myself” 

“What? What does that-“ 

You pull up from his lap, climbing awkwardly over the seats and falling into the back he snickers at your little “I’m okay” and turns his attention back to the road.

“You know… we’re almost home anyway honey, and you should get into bed” 

You ignore him completely and lay across the backseat, pulling your dress up around your hips 

“I’ve had a lifetime of learning patience Y/N, I’m not going to break” 

“Sure I believe you, but you haven’t had a lifetime of me Carlisle Cullen” 

You wrangle off your thong, getting it caught in your heels for a second before tossing it into the front seat, he catches them and you grin as you hear him inhale.

“That was supposed to be a surprise…but I suppose not anymore” 

“You could have waited until we got home to surprise me” 

“You could have gotten in the backseat with me” you sass back as you spread your legs. Your fingers slip between your sticky folds so easily, you moan softly, teasing your clit with slow circles as your back arches off the seat.

“O-oh Carlisle” You whisper, pulling your legs up to your chest as you slide your fingers into your dripping hole. The noise is sinfully good as you curl your fingers upward, your thighs shaking as you whimper. 

“They don’t reach as far as yours do” You mumble, your lashes wet as you turn your head toward the front seat, making your voice as sugary and small as possible. 

“They don’t feel as cool and smooth as yours” 

The car comes to a sudden stop and you’re nearly flung off the seat. You squeal and hold your hands out as you hear the car door slam. Before you can even right yourself, Carlisle is doing it for you. He pulls your hip back and slams you into the seat.

“I thought you had patience!”

“You were right, I’ve never had you” 

“What if we get caught!?” 

He tosses your heels up front and you stop, staring at his smooth muscles as he pulls his jacket off and folds it up, putting it under your head.

“Look around” 

You sit up and look around as he takes his tie off and sets it over the back of the seat. You’re somewhere in the woods and you’re not sure when you got there or how you got there but you know no one will hear you. You start to giggle and he smirks, pulling you back down on the seat and helping you out of your dress.

“You were planning this weren’t you?” 

“Maybe” He grins as he takes your body in, soft and warm and plush, he feels his cock twitch as you bite the tip of your finger and open your legs for him, displaying your body to him. 

“I’ve been dreaming about you inside me all night,” You say breathily “Feeling your thick cock stretching me out” 

He takes his time, unbuckling his belt and rolling it carefully, watching the subtle tremors in your body. His eyes focus on the way your tight hole clenches around nothing with each flex of his arms. He unbuttons his pants and pulls them down slowly, revealing his rock-hard cock to you. You lick your lips as you stare at the tip, coated in precum. He strokes it a couple times, enjoying the way you’re practically drooling over him. 

“You look pretty when you're desperate, Bambi"

He presses his lips to yours, whether to kiss you as passionately as he is now or to shut you up, you don’t really care. His hands roam your curves possessively, there’s a certain measured carefulness in the way he does it, hundreds of years of learning his strength you suppose. 

His lips trail kisses down your blazing skin, his cool hands cupping your breasts. 

“You’re such a fucking tease” 

You giggle deliriously at his words, the way he growls them in your ear like he’s finally had enough of your sass. His hands grip you tighter, bruising your skin as he wraps his fingers around your hips and grinds into you. You gasp and smack your head against the seat, opening your legs more for him as you feel his cock sliding between your folds.

He listens to you whining and whimpering, rolling your hips against him and trying to get what you want but he doesn’t give in easily, holding you down in place.

“Now who needs to learn patience?” 

“Please?” you bat your eyelashes, wet with fake little tears as you look up at him.

“Please what?”

“Please Doctor Cullen” you purr, tilting your head at him and he groans, sinking his cock into you as far as he can. Your toes curl and you arch your back as he sets a bruising pace. The car rocks with the force of each thrust as you brace yourself against the seats, and the windows start to fog from your hot body. 

“C-Carlisle” You moan his name as he grabs your hips, lifting you up higher to slam into that spot that makes you see stars, your hand slaps against the window as he fucks you senseless. He’s not even breaking a sweat as he uses your body like a toy, moving you up and down his cock. 

“Is this what you wanted Bambi? You wanted me to ravage you? Destroy this perfect little pussy for anyone else? This isn’t very gentlemanly of me you know” 

Your head bounces as you try to nod along with his words, making little squeaking noises with each sharp thrust, you can already feel the harsh bruises in your skin.

He leans forward, his body pressing into yours as he kisses your neck, you feel his fangs drag across your arteries and he chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. 

“Oh… you like that? Don’t you? You think I can’t feel the way it excites you?” You feel his arm hook around your waist, keeping you in place on his cock as his hand comes up to wrap around your throat. 

“You like having your life in my hands don’t you?” He squeezes tightly and you immediately see stars, your pussy clenching around his cock tightly as he fucks you through your orgasm, he lets go enough just so you can gasp for air as he keeps pounding into you, filling you with his seed. He pushes into you fully, his cock grinding into your pussy as he leaves every last drop inside you. 

Your body shudders shaking in his arms as he turns you both, lying underneath you as you snuggle into his chest. He strokes your hair soothingly, whispering to you.

“You were such a good girl for me, taking everything I gave you” His fingers trail over the light bruises on your neck and he sighs. 

“I shouldn’t have gotten so carried away”

“Are you kidding me?” You mumble, kissing him softly “That was the best part” 

He smiles and cups your cheek, watching you lean into his touch 

“I don’t know, I think my favorite part was watching the way you fell apart when I fucked your cute little brains out” 

You blush and swat his chest as you lay your head back down, closing your eyes. 

You’re drifting off when you hear the phone ring. Carlisle fishes it from his pocket on the floor and answers it. You can hear Edward on the other side.

“Hey we’re on our way home” 

“That’s fine. We’re not there yet” 

“…..Okay, whatever that means” 

“It means you’re going to have to pick us up” 

“What why??” 

That wakes you up and you sit up curiously, looking around again. You couldn’t be out of gas? Carlisle had filled it before the party… maybe you had a flat-

Oh. 

The steering wheel is in pieces on the passenger seat. He did have patience.

But not when it came to you. 

[stolenorchids]

˗ˏˋ KINKMAS 2024 ˎˊ˗ “T’was the night before Christmas, when not a creature was stirring all through the house, not even a mouse.”

a/n - this is my very first time doing something annual like this! I'm hoping to continue this through to next year - maybe even add kinktober to the list:D there will be multiple fandoms in this lineup, however, most of them will be BSD - keep in mind that characters are subject to change please read the content warnings, and as always, MDNI!!

fallen-angel daiquiri - $12.01 ft. chuuya nakahara ˗ˏˋpossessiveness, refusion of attention, choking and dirty talkˎˊ˗

blood-mark cosmopolitan - $12.07 ft. shxtou ˗ˏˋphone sex, teasing, marking, oral (fem! receiving), and mutual masturbationˎˊ˗

heart-eating piña colada - $12.14 ft. atsushi nakajima ˗ˏˋjealousy sex, scratching, biting and breedingˎˊ˗

clandestine long island iced tea - $12.25 ft. ryúnosuke akutagawa ˗ˏˋunder-cover mission, marking and getting caughtˎˊ˗

[shintaru]

Say my name | Owen Knight

KINKTOBER m.list ♡ windbreaker taglist

Warnings: Aftercare, Owen, lingerie, creampie, riding, cowgirl, missionary, praises, not proof read, unprotected sex, amateur smut writer, implied cunnlingus.

You had bought some lingerie with Noah when you both went shopping in Korea. Having yet to try it on you decided to since your boyfriend went to pick up some food. You shut your shared bedroom door just in case he comes home early.

Trying on the three-piece set you look at yourself in the mirror. Deciding it’s missing something you pull out a pair of garters and attach them to the mini skirt. You grab some stockings to match.

Making small adjustments to the skirt placing it high on your hips so the lace panties can be seen more. You take another look in the mirror and think that the stockings and garters pull the look together.

The set is a light blue mini skirt, with matching lace undergarments. You thought it would be funny to take a picture to tease Owen. Originally you were too shy to wear lingerie in front of him. But after seeing how you looked in the set you wanted to tease him a little.

Deciding to take a mirror selfie from the back to show off the mini skirt you send it to Owen waiting for a response. You don’t get a response yet he’s opened it. You begin to worry if you made the wrong decision by sending him the picture.

You’re stuck in what seems like a loop of typing and erasing your sentences not knowing what to say. You hear the front door slam and what sounds like a bag and keys being tossed onto the counter before Owen rushes into your shared bedroom.

“What were you thinking sending me something like that in public?” he shouts. You don’t know what to say so you stay silent thinking he’s mad “Someone could have seen and I would have had to kill them” he tells you making you laugh realizing he’s just being over protective.

A red blush tint starts growing on his cheeks as he takes in the sight of you in the lingerie. He’s at a loss for words. You walk over to him. Pulling him closer to you by his hips “do you want to take it off of me?” You ask. He wastes no time putting his hands on you practically ripping your bra off.

“Owen what the fuck! I just bought these” you say. “I’ll buy you as many new pairs as you want” he replies. Picking you up by your waist he carries you over to the bed laying you down on your back.

He leaves a trail of kisses from your jawline to your neck along your stomach down to your lower abdomen. Lifting your thighs, he takes the waistband of your lace panties in his teeth pulling them down as far as he can get before coming back up and setting your legs down on his shoulder. You gasp at the position you’re in, you’re nervous but you trust Owen.

Noticing that you’re nervous Owen says “Don’t be shy baby let me eat you out, I’ve been dying to taste you” You spread your legs allowing him to hold your thighs even further apart. He starts slowly by leaving a trail of soft wet kisses down your inner thigh.

He glides his tongue across your folds tasting you using his thumb he softly rubs circles against your clit making you moan out. Pulling on his blond hair you tell him “Enough, please, I can’t take anymore!” not being able to have any patience for what’s to come. Owen pulls away from your dripping core, licking your arousal from his lips planting a soft kiss against your lips. “I need you now” you say.

He lifts you off the bed sitting down pulling you onto his lap. “We need a condom” he says wrapping your arms around him you tell him “I want you to cum inside me” his already pale face seems to lose all its color with your comment. “You’ll be the death of me” he says pulling his pants and underwear off.

Helping you raise your hips he lines his tip up with your entrance rubbing it against your folds and coating it in your slick. You grip his shoulders tightly “mhm, Owen” you moan.

“Fuck say my name again, I love hearing your voice” he says. His grip tightens on your hips. “Owen, ah” you moan out as he slides his tip into you. He attaches his lips to yours pulling you deep into the kiss by your lower back. He lets you take him slowly. “Take your time” he says pulling away from the kiss. Once he’s in you start bouncing on his cock. You’re both a moaning mess. “You feel so good, you’re taking me so well” Owen praises you.

Your legs begin to shake growing tired from the pace. Owen grabs your hips and helps you ride him. “I’m close” you moan while grinding against him. “Cum for me” he says. You clench around him moaning his name as your orgasm washes over you. He continues thrusting into you, coming in to you soon after.

After you both calm down from your highs you push him down on the bed taking his shirt off placing your hands on his chest lifting your hips stopping when just the tip is inside feeling and rocking yourself back down on him. He grips your hips tightly thrusting into you trying to meet your pace. You can feel his cock twitching inside you letting you know he’s close.

You continue riding him feeling yourself becoming closer to your own release. He thrusts into you one last time before finally coming into you. He pulls out allowing his cum to seep out of you dripping down his cock. “Fuck, I could get use to the sight of that” he says while flipping you both over, laying you on your back.

“Put your leg over my shoulder” he says. You put your leg over his shoulder and he holds your other around his waist thrusting into you. “Owen, don’t stop I’m so close” you moan. “I love the way you moan my name” He responds. He leans down to kiss you taking your hand in his. You both cum together, Owen continues thrusting into you not letting up on his pace.

“Owen, it’s too- much” you try pleading with him. “We’re not done yet going to fuck my cum into your pretty hole” he responds. After Owen is finally satisfied he draws a warm bath for the both of you letting you get in first while he throws the sheets in the wash. After starting the washer Owen joins you in the bath. “Let me help you clean up” he says.

I need a Owen Knight in my life

Dedicated to @rossesnd @catsrkool

[cosmicoatlatte]

────── ౨ৎ kinkmas 2024

preferences - oral (fem!receiving)

characters: john 'bucky' egan, gale 'buck' cleven, marjorie 'marge' spencer, curtis 'curt' biddick, robert 'rosie' rosenthal, harry crosby, joseph 'bubbles' payne, james douglass, everett blakely, howard 'hambone' hamilton, john brady, ken lemmons, bernard 'benny' demarco, charles 'crank' cruikshank, jack kidd

౨ৎ — John 'Bucky' Egan

Oh he’s a wild ride. Whether you’re on top or he has you on your back or John gets on his knees for you, he doesn’t have a preference as long as he can get his mouth on you. He knows how to make you melt in a handful of heartbeats but he also likes to tease and draw things out. Bucky keeps his tongue flat and licks long stripes and really makes you squirm for it before he really starts eating you out. If you let him, he's not holding back, he’s noisy and sloppy, making a mess between your thighs before pulling away to admire his work just long enough to get you restless again only to then dive back in. It is a truth universally acknowledged, that John Egan can and will go down on you at any given opportunity.

౨ৎ — Gale 'Buck' Cleven

Sit. On. His. Face. Sit on it. He’s got that beautiful face and those plush pink lips that were made to eat somebody out. It would be a crime not to let him get that mouth on you. He has the tendency to let his hands wander up and down your thighs and calves, trailing his fingers across your skin, cupping your ass and urging you to not hold back and really ride his mouth. Lovely nose to grind against. Even though you’ll end up a downright mess, a half melted puddle of satisfaction, he makes sure you’re all cleaned up. Not a fan of kissing you after until he’s at least cleaned himself up a little bit. Gale is not too noisy when he eats you out but he tends to hum and you swear you can feel the vibrations of it in your fingertips. 

౨ৎ — Marjorie 'Marge' Spencer

She’s real sweet with it. Enthusiastic. Likes to start off with just touching you (or the two of you touching each other) before she goes down on you. Get you excited for her. A lot of kissing, lots of skin contact, she just wants to be close to you before slowly working her way down your body. Can’t really use her fingers to help out since she likes to keep her nails long but she does what she can, thumbing at your clit with the pads of her fingers and holding you open for her so that she can lick you better. When you get close to falling over the edge she’ll just pull away and smile up at you, telling you that you can hold on for her just a little bit longer.

౨ৎ — Curtis 'Curt' Biddick

He’s a mouthy guy, of course he’s good with his mouth. On top of that he has no issues getting on his knees in front of you and sticking his head under your skirt whenever your dirty little heart desires. He keeps his hands busy, playing with the lacy tops of your stockings or teasing his fingers where he’s tonguing into you. When you come he licks you through it but things only veer into overstimulation occasionally. If you don’t have a handkerchief he might wipe his face on your underskirt. When the two of you can take your time he can make your thighs shake like they should.

౨ৎ — Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal

When Rosie’s really needy for it there’s little holding him back. He’d get on his knees for you so fast, not even waiting for you to get undressed, and just hike one of your legs over his shoulder so that he can get his mouth on you. But when he can properly take his time he’ll draw it out until he’s had his fill. Lays you out and makes you see stars. Just languidly lapping at you while he slowly eases his fingers into you. Rosie’s just a touch too soft, a little too gentle, but he won’t let you hurry him along. You can try and get yourself off against his mouth but he’ll just put one of those gentle arms across your hips and hold you steady while he continues his sweet torture. That mustache…

౨ৎ — Harry Crosby

Theee munch of the 100th. I’m sorry. You can’t deny it. That scene was HOT (and we’ll not be speaking about the morality of it) and there is not a single doubt in my mind that Harry eats pussy for his pleasure. If you’re in a hurry his talented mouth can have you falling apart before you know it but if he has the time? Best believe this man takes his time. If he didn’t love oral so much he might be better at teasing but nobody better introduce him to the idea of edging. Harry’s a bit of a biter but he keeps that to your thighs (or clothes). Knows how to navigate all the right spots that will leave your thighs shaking long after he’s done with you.

౨ৎ — Joseph 'Bubbles' Payne

He might be an expert navigator but Bubbles sure knows how to get lost in you. He has a talent for really savoring the time he gets to spend between your thighs, not going slow but drawing it out until you’re begging for him to let you come, only for him to stop swirling his tongue on your clit at the last second before sweet release would’ve washed over you. He’s not doing it to be mean, he just wants to keep going a little longer. Can and absolutely has come from grinding his hard cock into the mattress while eating you out. 10/10 whimpers. But if you don’t want him to do everything by himself and instead tease him too, just ask if you can blow him while he puts his mouth on you. Loves a good 69.

౨ৎ — James Douglass

Whenever James gets the privilege of putting his mouth on you he makes sure you’ll see stars. Absolutely loves having his mouth on you and is unashamed of it. Any morning you allow him to wake you up with his hot mouth is a good morning. Let him kiss his way down your body until he can taste you. Always gives you a little kiss to the top of your underwear before easing them down your legs. His nose>. Dougie will press a kiss to either side of your inner thighs before guiding them around his head. Let’s you chase your pleasure any way that you like but you’ll have to pull him away by the hair when you’re done. If you give him the chance James will worship you like you deserve.

Sit on his face. As a treat.

౨ৎ — Everett Blakely

Oh he’s got a wicked mouth and he knows just how to use it. Everett will keep his eyes on you the entire time while he makes you feel good. And truly there is no better sight than to see him come up between your legs until his strong hands can hold them open, preventing you from closing them and hiding away from him. He pays a lot of attention to the way your body reacts to his touch and he loves knowing that he’s bringing you so much pleasure. His dirty talk is next level but when his mouth is too busy eating you out then the sounds he makes are just as erotic, even if they’re muffled against your flesh. His moans are beautiful and you swear you can feel them vibrate against your clit. Everett will lick you through it until your back arches and then some. 

౨ৎ — Howard 'Hambone' Hamilton

Can get slightly feral about it but good lord does he know what he’s doing. Hambone is an oral fiend. An aficionado. There are few things he loves half as much as burying his face between your thighs. Big kisser. All over the inside of your thighs and your hips. Your clit. If he can tear himself away from you long enough to talk it’s absolutely filthy. Telling you how pretty she looks and how you’re his favorite meal because you taste so good. He’ll get himself so drunk on you that you’ll barely have to do anything to take care of him after. 

౨ৎ — John Brady

John loves you and wants to please you, of course, but he also believes in keeping your loving fair. Who is he to crave your mouth if he doesn’t put his own to good use? He learned real quick just how good he can make you feel and even though he doesn’t boast about it to the guys he feels a lot of pride in it. At the start he was a little hesitant, unsure about what to do, but nowadays it’s almost second nature to him. Loves to kiss his way down your body before diving in. He’s no longer shy, really licking into you and leaving you shaking, taking the good lord’s name in vain as you wrap your thighs around his head. Best way to start the day if you ask him. Loves it when you get your hands into his hair while he goes down on you.

౨ৎ — Ken Lemmons

When he’s going down on you he likes to start out slow. Leisurely lapping to get you dripping, needy and squirming for him before he pays attention to your clit. Ken does these little kitten licks that drive you half wild. He doesn’t hold back how much he loves it and every little sound he makes echoes through your body, only heightening the sensation of his hot tongue. Not a big fan of eye contact but he likes to hold your hand while he’s going down on you. His hands are rough from all the work he does but they’re so gentle when he touches you.

౨ৎ — Bernard 'Benny' DeMarco

Benny’s a romantic at heart. He doesn’t fuck, he makes love, and that 100% includes oral. He’s sweet with it, peppering feathery light kisses all over the insides of your thighs, starting out with gentle licks to ease you into it.... This man won’t stop unless he has you absolutely dripping. Might give you a finger or two if you beg nicely but usually those are reserved for the second round. Benny could use those strong arms to hold you down but he won’t because having you absolutely writhe against his face just tells him he’s doing a good job. Loves to make eye contact during and that just works best when he has you all properly laid out on a bed (or just horizontal surface, he’s not picky, as long as you’re comfortable) but he has also been known to just get on his knees for you if you’re feeling desperate.

౨ৎ — Charles 'Crank' Cruikshank

Charles is an absolute sweetie. His touch is light and gentle when he parts your legs for him and he never fails to mention how pretty she is. He’ll pull your thighs over his shoulders until they’re wrapped around his head on either side all proper because it helps him focus on you and only you. Takes his time to get you all worked up just by licking at you before getting his mouth on your clit; not to tease you but just because he wants to give you time to get worked up before throwing you over the edge. His curls are so nice to get your fingers tangled in them and Charles lets you just move his head to your heart’s content. His nose is so nice to grind against when he bullies his tongue into you. After you come he works you through it until your legs stop shaking and then gets you all cleaned up. 

౨ৎ — Jack Kidd

He is meticulous to a fault in everything he does and of course that includes bringing you pleasure. You never know what to expect with Jack because he switches things up (lest you become bored) but there’s rarely a time your legs feel strong enough to support you after he is done between them. Keeps a thumb on your clit while he works his tongue so you have that pressure because he’s not letting you writhe yourself against his face, working towards an orgasm. That’s his job. Puts his arms across your hip to keep you motionless against him and it remind you so much of the times when he puts pressure on your abdomen when he fucks you that it sends you spiraling nearly every time. 

Please do both of you a favor and put him out of his misery… just sit on his face. This man needs to relax. Keep him in bed.

[timespaceandfilm]

No Rules on Winter Star

Coffee. The aroma wafts over you as you step back into the house. Ruby lags behind, finally good and tired. The tips of your ears ache and your fingers have started to lose feeling. You watch Ruby trot over to the glowing wood stove before you turn your attention to the kitchen.

Harvey is leaning against the counter looking like you summoned him from one of your daydreams; tie loose, sleeves rolled, sweater nowhere to be found. His fingertips grip the rim of an empty mug. When you meet his eyes, they’re framed by those laugh lines you’ve come to adore. Your mind catches up with the moment and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. On the following breath in, it registers that it’s your coffee that’s currently brewing.

“Full caf at this hour, doc?” You busy yourself with unbundling your outerwear, as if that will somehow detract from the way you’re staring at him. “I thought you had a rule about that.”

One eyebrow twitches over the rim of his glasses. “I’m making an exception.”

You try to take that statement at face value, but fuck if your heart doesn’t pound at what it might mean.

Written for @kellycataclysm as part of a fic swap. Thanks to @birdielouwho for organizing the exchange <3.

This fic is rated Explicit. 18+ Only!

Happy Holidays and Merry Kinkmas!

For anyone following along with my Sebastian longfic, the next chapter is in the works and will likely go up soon after the new year.

Credit for dividers goes to @saradika

[honey-flustered]

Kinkmas Day 2: Cunnilingus + Aftercare

Soccer Player!Cocky!Robin Buckley x Catholic!Cheerleader!Reader

Roommates/Enemies to Lovers

Summary: based on a tiktok meme i saw: “my roommate found out i was gay and started reading me bible verses” -> “eat her out”

Warnings: girl on girl (duh), closeted!reader, virgin!reader, light humor, bimbo!reader, meangirl!reader, perv!flirty!robin, robin calls reader per names (angel, cupcake, etc) internalized homophobia, all girls catholic school, blasphemy, religious themes, oral sex, if you squint dub con, come eating, fingering, nipple play, anal play, kissing, robin talks about her parents sending her to catholic school for conversion, fluffy aftercare

A/N: 1st image @/abbighy, 3rd image @/momoiro_lys (i don’t own any of the images above) this was fun and self indulgent. Some aspiring dynamics from elphaba and glinda.

“I can’t believe your parents are making you go to an all girls catholic university. When you should be going to university with me.” Steve grumbles

“Aww, you gonna miss me, buddy? Don’t worry you can still visit and call me whenever you like…at least when I’m not getting laid.” Robin says, patting his back.

“I know I can but I just hate that you’ll be living the dream without me,” He sighs. “An all girls school? These are gonna be the best years of your life. Meanwhile, I’ve got a roommate that’s had a sock on our dorm’s doorknob for 2 nights straight. Do you know how humbling an experience that is for me? Me, King Steve.”

“Yeah, yeah. King Steve,” Robin waves off. “To be fair, I don’t even know what my roommate’s like and, with the luck I’ve got, she probably sucks so hard.”

“But she’s a girl…with boobies.” Steve emphasizes.

“Gah, you know I hate that word. Tits is more like it.” She quips.

Dragging Robin’s belongings down the hallway of the building, Steve and Robin could already see the wandering eyes of the students who couldn’t decide whether to thirst for him or her. They finally reach the room door, Robin putting a key to the door and praying silently for a decent roommate.

The two of them enter, greeted by you as you struggle to place a box onto the top of your closet. Robin couldn’t deny that she found you quite pretty. Maybe a bit too much pink for her liking but you wear it well.

Stepping forward, she takes the box from behind you and puts it in its intended position. You look up at her with big eyes before turning to fully face her.

“Thank you.” You say.

“You got it, angel.” She winks.

You clear your throat, adjusting your clothes and distancing yourself from her. “You must be my new roommate. It’s a pleasure meeting you. I’m (name), new head captain of the Hawkins Saints cheer squad. Niece of the renowned Priest of the Eden’s Holy Children Temple. Oh, I also am the top student of this school.”

You finish, three of you all staring in awkward silence as you await for her to introduce herself.

“Oh, right…umm, I’m Robin Buckley.”

“Yes, and…”

“We’re currently on the moon.” Robin says.

“What?” You ask, scoldingly perplexed.

“Sorry, thought we were doing a whole improv thing.” She replies.

“I’m confused. Are you a comedian?”

“No, I’m just…Robin.”

“And I’m Steve.” Steve says with his hand raised, reminding you two of his presence.

“Oh,” You say in a disappointed tone. “How…ordinary. Not a bad thing just…okay.”

Robin presses her tongue against her cheek. She usually doesn’t mind being called basic, it meant nothing to her but hearing it from your mouth in such a condescending tone made her blood boil just a little.

Her eyes scan your side of the room, landing on the “eat, pray, love” wall art above your computer desk.

“Really?” Robin questions, raising an eyebrow.

“My mother gave it to me.” You say, face heating up.

“Whatever you say, angel.” She smirks, brushing past you towards her side of the room. It’s quite small in comparison to your side because you’d taken up most of the space with your things.

“Geez, is this really it?” Steve asks.

Robin projects her voice as she answers Steve, wanting to make sure you heard her. “No! Because she’s 100% going to be a good girl and remove the rest of her things from my side by tonight.”

“I can hear you just fine, Buckley.” Steve says, not catching Robin’s angle.

“I’m sorry, were you talking to me?” You ask nonchalantly. You’re sitting at your vanity table, applying makeup without a care in the world.

“When are you planning to remove your things so I can properly settle in?” She asks, crossing her arms.

You roll your eyes, standing on your feet to approach, your arms also crossed. “I already did. What do you think that box up there is for?”

“There were only like 3 pairs of shoes in that thing.”

“Wrong! 5.” You correct.

Steve has never seen Robin standing firm in a confrontation. You must’ve really gotten under her skin and he’s starting to think that maybe he doesn’t have it so bad.

“Fine, you don’t want to remove your things. I guess there’ll just have to be some overlap, hmm?” Robin says, sending you a mischievous grin.

Going over to her bed, Robin rummages through her suitcase to pull out a rainbow flag before skipping over to your side to place over the “eat, pray, love” sign.

“Hey! You can’t do that or hang up that flag here. You’ll be in big trouble.” You exclaim.

“Then, try not to run your mouth to the feds. ‘Kay, gorgeous?” Robin says continue to pin up the flag.

“You take that down from my side.” You hiss, going on your tiptoes to claw at it. Robin is currently kneeling on top of your computer desk so you had no way of reaching her which made things all the more entertaining.

“You gonna remove your shit?” She asks.

“Yes.” You huff.

“Say it,” She taunts. “Say you’ll remove your shit.”

“I’ll remove my things. There I said it.” You pout with a defeated stomp.

“D’awww, miss goody two shoes refuses to curse?”

“My mouth isn’t meant for such vulgar things.” You reply, turning your nose up at her.

“Can’t say the same for myself, angel,” She quips, hopping off your computer desk. “Alright, I’m done teasing you. It’s been really fun though. Let’s do this some other time. My side of the room, maybe?”

You glare at her as she makes her way over to her friend, with him giving her a little nudge of approval.

———

After a long day of practice, you sorely trudge up to your dorm room. Your eyes are heavy from fatigue as you turn the key and swing the door open, only to be met with a sinful sight.

Robin and a fellow teammate, still dressed in their soccer uniforms, were making out in her bed. Robin’s hand was down the girl’s tight shorts as she moaned against her lips, grinding down on her hands.

You’re frozen, watching in both horror and intrigue as the girl pants hotly and heavily into the still air. Shaking out of the trance, you announce your presence with a drop of your purse onto your furry rug.

The girl quickly jumps away, ashamed but Robin is clearly amused.

“Um, I-I’ll see you tomorrow in Statistics, Robin.” She whispers, before quickly rushing out the room with her things.

“Just how many girl kissers are on this campus?” You scoff.

“More than you think.” Robin answers.

“This campus needs the fear of God. I’ll be praying for its salvation,” You reply before looking Robin up and down. “And maybe yours.”

“Am I finally touching a soft spot? Cause it sounds like you don’t want me going to hell,” Robin smirks, removing her knee high socks. “You’ll miss me too much I guess.”

“Puh-lease, you aren’t touching any part of me,” You snort. “I just feel compelled to pray for those who are lost. Maybe one day, you’ll see the light.”

Robin makes a show of her licking her fingers clean before she answers with a slick comment. “I’ve seen it plenty.”

“You don’t mind if I hit showers before you, right?” Robin says.

“Why hadn’t you done that before I got here?” You say through gritted teeth.

“Well, I was planning to do just that but Vickie and I got a little carried away—”

“Fine, just go.” You interject.

“You really are an angel, angel.” She praises, walking into the bathroom with a sway of her hips.

————

Robin is busy snoring away in peaceful slumber when she’s rudely awoken by your prayer. Usually it never bothers her but when you’re literally sat 3 feet away from her, that becomes her problem.

“What are you doing on my side?” Robin inquires, rubbing her eyes.

She noticed the way your thigh clenched a little at the rasp in her voice. You’re clearly not immune to attraction as sexless and sinless as you may seem.

“I’m praying for your salvation as I said I would.” You say.

“You couldn’t do that from your part of the room?” She asks.

“Well, how else am I supposed to reach you? I’m ensuring the connection’s strong enough.” You say.

“Is that so?” She asks, cocking her head to the side. “This isn’t some kind of excuse for you to be near me?”

“W-why would I want to be near you? I wouldn’t want to be at risk of you falling in love with me or something.” You say, face heating up.

“You must have some kind of magical pot of gold between your legs to make me want to fall for you, cupcake. No offense but I’m not exactly into the spoiled, holier than thou types.”

You gasp. “Well, if I were into girls, I wouldn’t want you because you’re unserious all the time and crass.”

“Someone’s got to be around here,” She says, throwing her hands up. “It’s like you all walk around like you suck on lemons for the hell of it. Maybe instead try sucking on my stra—“

“John 3 verse 16, ‘For god so loved the world…’” You begin.

“What…are you doing?”

“Reciting the bible,” You explain before continuing. “‘…that he gave his only begotten son, that whoever believes in him should not perish—”

“I’m going back to sleep, angel. Wake me up when you’re done spiraling at the thought of girls liking girls.” She mutters, laying her head back against her pillow.

“I won’t give up on you, Buckley. God has plans for all us and I’m sure he has one especially for you,” You say, plopping down on her bed. “Why, you could be anything in his eyes. Touching the hearts of people in even as insignificant as your career as either a retail associate, or a retail supervisor, or a retail store manager—“

“Why am I only working in retail?” Robin asks knowing she should regret speaking with you any further.

“Aren’t you majoring in services?”

“Public relations.”

“Is that not the same thing?” You ask, batting your lashes in a daze.

“Go to bed, angel. Unless you’re looking to share a bed with me.”

“In your dreams.” You say.

“Then, leave me alone.” She says before flopping back against her pillows to rest.

————

You approach Robin on the field with a beaming smile, shaking your pom-poms in her face. “Buckley, you were super interactive in bible study today. I bet you’ve been feeling different lately. You can thank my prayers for that.”

“Huh? I was wondering why I’ve been a lot gayer lately. Guess I really do have you to thank,” She jokes. “I was only interacting because I wanted the participation points by the way.”

“Why do you insist on resisting?” You say, putting your foot down.

“Funny, I could ask you the same thing.” She scoffs.

“I’ll have you know that I’m not…” Your words begin to drift tune at for a moment as Robin catches a glimpse of one of the clumsier teammates, Amy, attempting to kick a goal into the net. The ball completely misses its mark before heading towards the back of your head.

Obliviously, you continue to rant until Robin’s sudden catching of the ball makes you jump at her quick reflexes. You’re hyperventilating, looking her up in her eyes with a timid look. She holds the ball in between your bodies.

“You were saying, angel?”

“W-we’re continuing this discussion in our dorm.” You say.

“I’ll be counting down the minutes.” She says sarcastically.

You angrily stomp away and she quickly turns to join her team but for a moment, at the exact same time, the two of you look back at one another; lingering stares.

————

Robin is busy reading her book on her bed when she hears you sobbing in the bathroom. When you enter your shared bedroom once again, you attempt to hide your face and discreetly wipe your tears. Placing the book down, she looks at you with concern in her eyes.

“Hey, angel. Everything okay?”

“Like you care.” You say dryly.

“I care,” She says softly, patting the empty space beside her. “Come on up. I’m known to be a very good listener. My friend Stephen says so.”

You sniffle. “I thought his name was Steve.”

“What are we talking about again?” Robin quips.

“You have a strange sense of humor.” You laugh, climbing in the spot beside her.

“So I’ve been told,” She grins. “Now who’s got you, the ice queen, crying?”

“You’ll pay for that nickname,” You say an empty threat before explaining. “It’s my parents. For the second time in a row, they won’t be coming to family day here. Plenty of times they’ve cancelled on very important events of mine but still I could never get used to it. I’m just so tired of being alone at a Barnes & Nobles all day just so I could avoid anyone from asking me about my family.”

“I’m really sorry,” She says sincerely, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “If it’s any comfort, all parents suck. Mine sent me here because they refuse to accept who I am. They think it’s all a phase and that this school will ‘fix’ me.”

“Maybe they just wanted the best for you.”

“What’s best for me is that I get to be me…not what they think I should be,” Robin argues. “Who am I kidding? You wouldn’t get it. Little miss perfect over here.”

“I’m not perfect but my god is—

“Oh for the love of—“

“Proverbs 3 verses 5 through 6…”

“This again?”

“It says ‘trust in the lord—“

“Yeah I really don’t care what it says.” She dismisses, reaching over you for her book. The sudden proximity of your bodies, reminds her of the heat radiating from you. You’re abnormally hot. Feverish yet no actual fever. She looks into your eyes and you stare back into her big blue ones. Her eyes dart down to your lips as if to tell you of her plans and like a magnet your lips draw near. Just as they’re about to collide, you pull away at the last second.

“I’m going to read the bible before bedtime,” You announce, standing on your feet. “Have a goodnight.”

She remains in position still taking in what just happened but you refuse to let it sink in, going over to your bed.

Flipping to a random chapter, you force yourself to focus on your reading out loud, hoping it could take the urge to kiss her away. But when you find her making her way towards you, you don’t bring your eyes on her. Instead, you keep them on the page as she begins to tug your shorts down.

She pulls you by your legs, sliding you down the mattress just enough to pry your legs apart. Your pussy is still clothed, the white lace—a thin barrier from her eager tongue lips and pouty lips. She licks an experimental swipe of her tongue along the gusset, tasting the juices that soaked through them.

She groans, placing butterfly kisses along your inner thighs. The bible has long fallen between your fingers as they now take home in her dirty blonde hair, gripping the strands as you grind against her face.

“Can I take these off?” She asks.

“Mmm.” You answer, teeth still biting your bottom lip. You expect her to carry a smirk on her face at your permission, as if she’d won some kind of game. Instead, all that she holds in her features is gratitude as she drags your panties slowly down your clean shaven legs.

She stares down at your glistening pussy, creamy juices seeping and collecting at the edges of your plump lips like a divine dew.

She greedily licks at it with her tongue, eyes focusing on you as she does so and you whine at this. It’s erotic. It’s alluring. How could something this good be considered bad?

She curls her arms around your thick thighs, fingers sinking into the fat of it as she hungrily indulges herself in you.

“You taste even better than I could’ve ever imagined.” She moans.

“You’ve thought about doing this with me?” You ask, breath hitching when her lips close around your throbbing clit.

“More times than I can keep track of.” She admits, whispering softly against your sensitive cunt, circling the bud with her tongue.

“I’ve never done this before. Not with anyone.” You gasp.

“No wonder you taste as sweet as cherry pie.” Robin comments, eating you with more ferocity at your admission.

Now you understand why the girl breathed as if she were losing air. Every breath you take is stolen with every lap of Robin’s tongue. Oh, and when she pushes it inside your hole is when you really begin to whine out in pleasure.

“So good, Robin,” You mewl. “Never felt like this before. Never ever.”

She dips her tongue low enough to play with your puckered hole for a little, adding a finger into the mix. You squeal at the sudden intrusion before moaning at the combination of her mouth eating your meaty cunt while her finger twisted and thrusted inside your ass.

Your legs begin to shake, eyes rolling into the back of your head. “I think I’m gonna cum. Fuck, Robin. Please.”

Her free hand creeps up your stomach, pulling up your tank top over your breasts and exposing them for her to play and pluck at the hardened buds.

“Oh my god, oh my god.” You moan, surprised at yourself. You’ve cursed and now you’re taking the lord’s name in vain.

“Mmm, you’re close. Aren’t you, angel? You’re soaking and your legs can barely stay apart,” Robin coos, kneading your thighs before prying them apart again. “You gonna be a good girl and keep your legs apart while I make you cum for me.”

“Y-yes, baby.” You answer, letting her push your legs closer to your body as you held them by the backs of your knees.

She’s even nastier with devouring you, wiggling her tongue about and making the sloppiest noises possible. If anyone were to put their ear to the door, there would be no denying the activity.

“Oh fuck, I’m cumming, Robin. I’m fucking cumming. Shiiiiit.” You cry, feeling yourself squeeze around your plunging tongue and coating it further with your honeyed essence.

She collects it all with devotion for you, getting herself off as her ass rests high in the air, throbbing pussy soaking through the material of her own pajama pants.

You shake violently as she continues to drink you in through your convulsions. You eventually force her away and she gets the memo, licking her lips and fingers as if you were the best meal she’s had in a while.

“Fuck, that was good.” She laughs, laying beside you.

You get a wicked plan and jump in between her legs with the enthusiasm of a puppy, tugging at her pants.

“Could I maybe return the favor? I can’t guarantee I’ll be as talented as you but I’m willing to learn.” You say but just the moment after you finish your sentence her lips are on yours and you get a taste of yourself. It’s an addicting mix of her and you that you fear you’ll crave everyday.

“Maybe another time. You deserve some rest,” Robin says, brushing a strand from your face and kissing the top of your forehead.

She goes to the bathroom, retrieving a washcloth to clean the sticky mess between your thighs. She also gathers some mouthwash for the two of you to wash out the aftertaste and though you’re reluctant to do so in your usual bratty fashion, wanting to savor the taste. You eventually comply, though. Lastly, she grabs a clean pair of underwear for you to wear before she’s taking you into her arms again and cuddling you into the cold winter night. And neither of you are willing to let go.

[deepestnightcolor]

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆Kinkmas - 2nd of December⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

ᴀ/ɴ: What's behind door two? Let's find out, shall we? thank you for your time and I hope you enjoy!

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sebastian x Fem!Reader (ᴀ/ɴ: I CANNOT believe I have written Sebastian. I can't write this man for the LIFE of me, but I hope you enjoy what I wrote nonethless :D).

ᴡᴄ: 1095 words

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: dirty talk, degrading, unprotected sex, kinda public sex, pretty much getting caught, cream pie, cursing.

Sebastian loved winter, and there were so many reasons for him to do so! The sun was really weak, the air was nice and cold which meant that he wasn’t sweating his balls off the moment he set foot outside (fuck that, he didn’t sweat his balls off from just lying in bed), and best of all? Society didn’t fucking expect him to go out just because the weather was nice. Quite the opposite! It was perfectly acceptable to stay bundled up inside of your fucking house, the most he had to do was to look out a window every now and then and sigh wistfully – that was his fucking jam!

So, now riddle him this – how the hell had he ended up on Ginger fucking Island, where the sun showed no fucking mercy, making him sweat his balls off? Ginger Island, one of the most crowded places to be, given that most people used this as an escape of the winter wonderland back home? Why the hell was he allowing the sand to burn his feet, even though he could be at home, in his bed, aimlessly scrolling social media, maybe, and he would never admit that, making himself some hot cocoa and admire the Winterstar tree his mom had set up? Well, the riddle wasn’t all too hard to solve – the reason he was on this stupid island was right in front of him, looking up at him with those glazed-over eyes, bikini top messily tugged down to reveal kiss-bitten, spit-covered tits that bounced with each thrust that he oh so cruelly hammered into your messy cunt. “That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it, baby? Dragging me out here? Cock stuffed in your dirty little whore cunt in a fucking changing room? Chose the busiest day of the week, too, it seems…Would be a shame if anyone heard how good I am fucking you, huh? Or maybe that’s what you fucking want…Oh, fuck yeah, you are clenching around me baby- that’s exactly what you fucking want, yeah? Letting them all hear who’s fucking you dumb, who’s making you a fuckin’ whore for dick,” He whispered, voice nothing above a dangerous snarl as his hips mercilessly kept up his pace, only fucking you harder when he felt your cunt wrap tighter, sucking off his cock oh so sweetly. You see, Sebastian hadn’t even planned for this to happen. Sure, he had let you persuade him to join you, but he had fully expected to sit in the sand for an hour, maybe watch you swim or play volleyball with you, and then get the fuck out of there again, settle back in his castle of ice (his basement, but don’t blame him! It was fucking cold down there).

Plans had changed as soon as you stepped out of that changing room in that new bikini, grinning at him proudly. “I got it on sale!” You had told him, letting that waistband of the colourful bikini bottom snap against your paling hips. And well, you had told him to have fun at the beach, hadn’t you? And this was his way of having fun – you impaled on his cock, head thrown back as you tried desperately to hold back those sweet, sweet sounds that were threatening to spill, sounds that would be revealing what the two of you were up to, pressed together with one of your legs hooked around his hips, allowing him deeper access in that gorgeous cunt of yours. Sebastian didn’t have the heart to tell you that you that your pussy was already doing a good job of betraying you, squelching loudly as he forced it to take his quick, hard fucks. “That’s it, baby. That’s fucking it, look at you. You look gorgeous on my dick, you do know that, don’tcha? And your cunt is just sooo wet for me, fuuuuck… You make even summer pleasant for me, baby. That’s right, squeeze my cock- Good. Fucking. Girl,” he snapped, cock seemingly trying to pound his words into you, making sure you would forever remember who you belonged to – him, and only him. He let out a shaky breath as he bottomed out inside of you again, hand digging into your plush ass to give you fast, little fucks, making your mouth hang open, eyes rolling back in your skull. Seb felt his heart swell in his chest, his cock throbbing numbly in your wet pussy. Yoba, you had him tied down and locked up, had him ready to bow to your every little whim, and he just wanted to fuck it into you how much you meant to him.

“That’s fuckin’ it, baby. That’ssssss it, cum for me. Cum all over my cock, baby, c’mon- know you can do it for me, sweet angel,” he growled, trying to bite back and swallow his own moan as you looked at him like this, so stupid, thoughts long gone, only concerned with getting fucked and being able to gush around him. Yoba, did you know that you were his greatest gift on earth? Whatever would be under the tree on the Feast Of The Winterstar couldn’t keep up with you. Couldn’t keep up with the way you broke down on his cock, letting that high-pitched moan slip. Couldn’t keep up with the way your nails dug in his back and dragged down, down, down. Couldn’t keep up with the way you silently mouthed “I love you” as you came undone on his dick, back arched in oh so prettily. Shit, he loved you too. Way more than you would ever know. Or maybe you did? He had come here for you after all – and not even to fill you up with ropes of cum like he was doing now, accompanied by a little groan of your name, breathed against your neck where he was hiding his face away, fucking his cum inside of you to make sure you would feel it all the way home. “I love you, too, my little raindrop,” he panted, kissing the sensitive skin of your neck, making you sob out quietly.

“Come on, guys! I wanna make it fucking home before the fuckin’ Feast, idiots!” A voice suddenly called, big fist slamming against the door, an obvious grump seemingly having waited long enough. Sebastian gave you a chuckle, looking down at your fucked out form, feeling that swell in his chest again. “Come on, let’s get outta here,” he whispered, helping you adjust your bikini. Too bad you couldn’t even get to the sea.

[rafesbabygirlx]

6 𝑫𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔 🎄

𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝙲𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚗 | 𝙳𝚛𝚎𝚠 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚎𝚢

12/20 - 𝙽𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝 - 𝚂𝚞𝚋!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚎. 𝙸𝚗 𝚊 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚏𝚝𝚜, 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚎 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍.

12/21  𝙳𝚎𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙷𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚜 - 𝙳𝚛𝚎𝚠 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚎𝚢 𝚡 𝙶𝙵!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙳𝚛𝚎𝚠 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚝𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚙𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍. 𝙰𝚖𝚒𝚍 𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜, 𝙳𝚛𝚎𝚠’𝚜 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚊 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎.

12/22 - 𝚂𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚍 𝙸𝚗 - 𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙿𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝚂𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚜𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚖, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚗, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚖 𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎. 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚢-𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚌𝚘𝚊 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚏 "𝚃𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚛 𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚎" 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚡𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚒𝚡 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚒𝚌𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝙰𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚖 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚊 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚍𝚛𝚘𝚙 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗 𝚞𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚗𝚎𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚠 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐.

12/23 𝙼𝚒𝚍𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚜 𝙴𝚟𝚎 - 𝙳𝚊𝚍!𝙳𝚛𝚎𝚠 𝚡 𝚆𝚒𝚏𝚎!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙾𝚗 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚜 𝙴𝚟𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚕, 𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝 𝚐𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚘𝚏 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙳𝚛𝚎𝚠 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖, 𝚊 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜. 𝙵𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚛𝚊𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚝.

12/24 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚜 𝙶𝚊𝚕𝚊 - 𝙳𝚛𝚎𝚠 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚎𝚢 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙰𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙷𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚢𝚠𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚜 𝙶𝚊𝚕𝚊, 𝙳𝚛𝚎𝚠’𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚢 𝚓𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚎𝚗. 𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚛 𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛, 𝙳𝚛𝚎𝚠 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚊 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢, 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍, 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚊 𝚕𝚞𝚡𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖, 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚊𝚝𝚎, 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚕𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍, 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚗𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚎.

12/25 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚜 𝙳𝚎𝚋𝚝 - 𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙶𝙵!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝙱𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚢 

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚊 𝚙𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚘𝚗 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚜 𝙴𝚟𝚎, 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝙱𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚢’𝚜 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚋𝚝, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚢 𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙱𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚖𝚜 𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚞𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚜. 𝚃𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝙱𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎, 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚌𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚜.

𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 @rafeyscurtainbangs 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕. 𝚆𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 ♥️♥️♥️

[my-my-my]

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate and happy holidays everyone! This is just a fun idea I had rolling around in my head these past few days! I didn’t want to do all the squads, and the timeline is purposely fuzzy (who cares about character deaths? Not me!!!). So this is just a mishmash of characters I pictured having fun with this.

TW: MDNI! Technically it’s abuse of power with any of the captains, but it’s all consensual, (reader is either a lieutenant, low-ranking, or human), oral sex, dirty talk, inappropriate use of decorations, food play.

Characters: Gin Ichimaru, Retsu Unohana, Sousuke Aizen, Grimmjow Jaegerjacques.

SQUAD 3 - Ichimaru Gin

You had just come back from the World of the Living, humming a tune, that you learned was a Christmas carol, through the barracks. You learned so much about humans during this time. Festivals with lights, decorated trees, gift giving and food sharing… everyone seemed so happy! Maybe it would be worth spreading that cheer into your squad.

Your arms were carrying boxes of stringed lights. While there weren’t any pine trees, maybe Captain Ichimaru would let you decorate some of the persimmon trees?

“Whatcha got there?” Speak of the devil and he shall appear, you thought.

“I was about to go to your office, Captain!” You said, as you bowed to him. Captain Ichimaru chuckled as he looked over the boxes in your arms. “I wanted your permission if I could decorate some persimmon trees with these lights.”

“It’s that time of the year already? Let me help you.” Captain Ichimaru clicked his tongue as took some of the boxes out of your arms, walking towards his favourite patch of trees.

“You know about Christmas, Captain Ichimaru?” You asked, as the two of you reached the trees.

The captain gave you wide grin, “I know some things, like how people receive gifts if they’ve been naughty or nice.”

You smirked at him, “oh is that so? Where do I fall on your list, Captain?”

Captain Ichimaru didn’t say anything, instead he unfurled the string of lights, giving it a quick inspection. Then, without warning, he flexed his spiritual pressure, forcing you on to your knees, quickly using the string lights to tie your arms behind your back, wrapping the around your breasts. He flicked his fingers, and to your surprise, the string lights were on, illuminating your covered breasts.

“You”, the captain drawled, cupping your chin, forcing you to look up to him, “have and will always be naughty.” He smirked. With his free hand, he pulled his cock out through his uniform, placing the soft shaft on your lips.

“But maybe you can show me how nice you are,” he cooed, patting your head as you begin to bob your head up and down his growing erection.

SQUAD 4 - Unohana Retsu

The scent of freshly baked goods wafted through the kitchens of the Squad 4 barracks. You and Hanatarou had visited the World of the Living to learn how to bake sugar cookies and the like from the spirit of a pastry chef, and now you wanted to bake some more.

Specifically… you wanted to give some to your captain. While you weren’t sure what to get her as a gift, you knew she enjoyed (moderately) tasting sweets. You had made an assortment of baked treats for her, some with matcha, azuki, black sesame, and dark chocolate, wondering what her favourite would be.

You gently placed all the treats into a decorative box and made your way to her office. Before you could knock on her door, you heard her call your name, “please come in.”

As you entered her office, you were startled to see Captain Unohana outside of her uniform. Her long black hair was put into a bun, and she wore a form-fitting grey dress with fur trimming.

“Captain, if I may,” you bowed, a blush creeping on your cheeks, “you look beautiful.”

Captain Unohana smiled at you, “thank you. The World of the Living has some interesting clothing for this time of the year.” She fanned her hand over her clothes, “and this one in particular called to me.”

“It looks like it was made for you.” You explained, a blush creeping on your cheeks as you noticed her ample cleavage.

The captain gave you a knowing smile, “you’re quite kind. How may I be of help to you, my dear?” She asked, her gaze pointing towards the box in your hand.

“Oh!” You were so shocked by her appearance, you completely forgot why you were here to begin with. “In the spirit of the holidays… I made these treats for you.”

“Then let us have some tea and enjoy these together.” Captain Unohana calmly said, as she prepared her favourite brew.

The two of you sat down, enjoying the warm tea and the snacks you gifted her. One treat in particular caught your captain’s attention. You were heavy handed with the whipped cream topping, to which she gently scooped up with her finger.

“This is delicious.” She remarked, “did you even make the cream yourself?”

“Yes!” You excitedly answered, “A pastry chef taught Hanatarou and I how to make different baked goods. I wanted to share with you what we learned.” You beamed at her, proud of your work.

Unfortunately for you, your heavy-handed decorating had consequences, as whipped cream dropped on to your captain’s cleavage. You immediately went to her side to apologize, your hand ready with a napkin, until she caught your hand.

She gave you a gentle smile, “don’t worry about this.” Your eyes widened in shock as she pulled the top of her dress down, her bare chest open to you. Captain Unohana smeared the cream on to her nipples, as you watched in awe.

“Would you like a taste?” Captain Unohana smiled, as she pulled you to her breasts. Your face grew hot as your tongue darted across her cream-covered nipple, before sucking it harshly.

“Very good.” Your captain praised, patting your head. “There’s some more here…” as she spread more cream on her other breast. And then with a simple kido spell, pulled her clothes off her body, as she continued to place cream and crumbled desserts down her body. You feasted on her until you reached her wet pussy, her fingers holding the folds apart for you. “And this is my Christmas present for you, for being such a good girl.” Captain Unohana murmured, as she forced your head between her legs.

MUKEN - Aizen Sousuke

Aizen glared at Head Captain Kyoraku, who was flirting with some random mother waiting in line with her child.

As part of his sentence, the Head Captain thought it would be a “wonderful idea” for Aizen to do some community service.

In the World of the Living.

As a Mall Santa Claus.

Shutara Senjumaru, Mayuri Kurotsuchi and Kisuke Urahara joined forces, for some reason, to make him clothing that would temporarily suppress his spiritual pressure. He could mingle with humans. He only had to do this for 6 hours.

He begrudgingly accepted, much to the shock of everyone. While he could think of a plan to escape. It was more so he was curious to know what the World of the Living was like since his imprisonment. And also Ichigo Kurosaki would “help” as an elf. And he was.

Aizen didn’t mind Ichigo, and much to Ichigo’s surprise, he got along with Aizen. But he couldn’t talk with Aizen for long, as parents and children kept lining up, to tell Santa Aizen want they wanted for Christmas.

You on the other hand, were doing some last-minute shopping with a few friends. You stood in your tracks as you looked at the Santa Claus display, “hey guys… Santa looks pretty cute, don’t you think?” You asked.

Your friends laughed, “if you think so, why don’t you wait to sit in his lap?” They teased. Not one to backdown from a challenge, you stubbornly accepted.

“Fine! Take my stuff. I’ll catch up with you guys later.” Your friends hollered as you stood in line, parents and caregivers giving you side eyes and dirty looks as you waited along with them. You were also getting peculiar looks from an elf with orange hair, but no matter! You were here on a mission.

“Hi miss, you know this is for children, right?” The elf asked.

“Oh I know,” you said, thinking of what to say to stay in line, but you couldn’t lie to save your life. “I was dared to meet with this Santa, and I have some money on the line.” The elf gave you a confused look, then laughed.

“I’ve been there!” He exclaimed, “don’t worry about it. I’ll let you pass.” He gave you an easy smile, as he gave a thumbs up to the other elves and Santa Claus.

You swore Santa rolled his deep brown eyes, but no matter. You were now up!

“You can sit on my lap.” Santa Aizen calmly said, almost bored, not looking at you.

You hesitantly sat on his lap as two elves held cameras ready to take your photo.

“And what would you like for Christmas?” Santa Aizen asked in a monotonous voice.

“Hmm..” you exaggerated your actions, cupping your chin and slightly leaning into him, “I would like Santa to fuck me when he’s free.” You smiled cheerfully.

This didn’t surprise Santa Aizen, as he chuckled. He lowered his voice so only you could hear, “give me 15 minutes.”

And 15 minutes passed, where Santa Aizen took you to a closed off office space in the mall. Doors locked, as his cock was buried in your weeping pussy, your moans and the obscene sounds filling the empty space. His cock stretched you full, as he continuously slammed his hips into you. But before you reached your orgasm, Santa Aizen pulled out of you, and without warning, came all over your face, using it as a cleaning rag.

Tucking himself in, Santa Aizen smiled at his handiwork, as you tried to wipe his cooling cum off your face. “I hope you enjoyed your present.”

But before you could protest, Santa Aizen left the room, leaving you to clean up after yourself. “This Santa deserves some coal or something.” You grumbled, as you walked back to your friends, a slight limp in your step as your pussy ached.

ESPADA - Grimmjow Jaegerjacquez

“Why do I gotta wear this stupid fucking thing?” Grimmjow grumbled as he pulled the red Santa Claus hat off his head.

You rolled your eyes as you looked at Grimmjow through your mirror. You were busy applying the last bits of your makeup for tonight, and of course Grimmjow was acting like a child.

“Because Grimmjow, it’s a Christmas party. We should at least look festive.”

Grimmjow scoffed, “I fucking hate red.”

“And you also hate wearing ugly sweaters! With your attitude, don’t be surprised if Santa gives you coal as a present.”

“Santa isn’t real.” Grimmjow sneered.

You faked a shocked gasp, hand over your heart as if he said something hurtful. “How can you tell me, Mrs. Claus, that my husband isn’t real?!” You faked cried.

Grimmjow rolled his eyes as he watched your theatrics unfold.

“Since my husband isn’t real, I guess I have to do this by myself tonight.” You sobbed, rubbing you crocodile tears away as you got on to your bed. Grimmjow raised an eyebrow at what you were doing.

“I am real. I’m right here!” Grimmjow yelled, but you were ignoring him, as you spread open your legs, revealing your bare pussy under your red Santa-themed skirt.

“Oh where’s Santa Claus…” you whined, as you began to play with yourself, rubbing your clit, purposefully avoiding Grimmjow. “I have a present for him, but I heard he wasn’t real…”

Grimmjow huffed, “I’ll show you who’s real,” climbing on to bed spreading your legs wider. Without hesitation, he lapped at your clit and pushed a finger inside you, as you sighed happily, pushing his head further into your wet pussy.

Once Grimmjow lifted his head from your pussy, you smirked at him, seeing his glazed eyes and face covered in your juices. “You know…” you cooed to Grimmjow, “only Mrs. Claus can give Santa a present.” You teased, as he watched you push two of your own fingers inside you.

Grimmjow smirked, “well then, I hope I’m on her ‘nice’ list.”