#only Red Velvet is still standing

[lilidawnonthemoon]

[a-sleepy-ginger]

29/3/24

✿❈✿❈✿

Artms release!!

Grapes

Got a good start on my history assessment

Laughed with family

[roturo]

❝ MOVE, IT'S A FALSE GOD ❞

A rising drug dealer returns to Zaun, igniting a "dangerous" power struggle. Tension turns into passion, old routes blur, who will control the game?

⤹ warnings: power dynamics, older man/younger woman, age gap, dom/sub dynamics, angst, begging, pwp, sexual tension, afab!reader praising, pet names, fingering.

⤹ songs used: move - taemin, false god - taylor swift, black swan - bts, danger - txt, automatic - red velvet.

The air in Silco’s private office was thick with smoke, curling around the dim amber light that spilled from a single lamp. You leaned against the chair, the same old chair you used to sit to just watch the man infront of you start creating what would be the ruin of Zean, his blue eye lifting from the long forgotten documents he was supposedly reading before your entrance— arms crossed, your confidence unwavering despite the sharp gaze he leveled at you— or at least, that’s what you try to pretend.

“It’s been a while,” you said pretending nonchalantly, tilting your head to meet his eyes. “I almost thought you’d forgotten about me, Silco. But here we are.”

He didn’t answer immediately, instead taking a slow drag from his cigar, letting the silence stretch. It was the same with him as always—every move, every glance, carefully calculated to put others on edge. Once, it had worked on you.

Not anymore.

“I don’t forget,” Silco said finally, his voice low and deliberate. “Especially not those who think they can play in my waters without permission.”

You chuckled, a sound that carried a hint of mockery. “Is that what this is about? Permission? I didn’t think you’d care, considering how… insignificant I used to be.”

His eye twitched, just barely, and you knew you’d struck a nerve. It was subtle, but years of knowing him had taught you how to read those tiny cracks in his armor.

“You were a child then,” he said, his tone clipped. “A reckless, naïve—”

“And now?” you interrupted, stepping closer, your confidence cutting through the haze of smoke. “Still think I’m a child, Silco? Because from where I’m standing, I seem to be doing just fine without your approval. Even starting to strike your own success.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. His good eye studied you, cold and unblinking, but there was something else there too—something that betrayed his calm exterior.

“You’ve built quite the reputation,” he said at last, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful. “Impressive, even. But reputations don’t protect you when you’re making enemies on all sides. Especially not mine.”

You smiled, slow and sharp. “Funny. I was going to say the same thing to you.”

He laughed, his breathless old laugh bringing the same warm (and rare) feeling to your chest. He looked at you in a way you couldn’t describe, he was always the one you looked up for, not Vander, not Vi, him. Even when everything went to shit.

“You think i’m feeling threatened by your presence here when you’re the one who always kept following around when you were just a clueless teenager trying to survive here?”

He smirked to himself, if you didn’t know him all this years you wouldn’t be able to see it, he took another long drag of his cigarette, making sure to look at you with a tentative face, like he’s testing the waters.

Silco’s smirk lingered as his gaze roamed over you, deliberate and slow. It wasn’t the predatory kind that most in the Undercity wielded like a weapon—no, this was something subtler, more dangerous. He let the silence between you stretch again, his presence pulling the air tight, as if daring you to speak first.

You didn’t.

He leaned back in his chair, the sharp edge of his posture softening just enough to make him seem almost at ease. The movement was calculated, you knew—it always was with him—but the faint trail of smoke curling lazily from his cigar only added to the intimacy of the space.

“You’ve certainly grown,” he said, his tone low and silken, as though the words were more for himself than for you.

It wasn’t a compliment. At least, not entirely. But the way his eye flicked down to where your fingers rested on the edge of his desk, nails tapping a faint rhythm, made you feel as though he was cataloging every inch of you.

“Out of your shadow, I’d say,” you replied smoothly, letting your lips curve into a faint smirk of your own. “Which I imagine doesn’t sit well with you, does it?”

He exhaled another cloud of smoke, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Is that what you think this is? Some petty tantrum over losing control?”

“Isn’t it?” you countered, stepping closer. The glow of the lamp cast a golden hue across your skin as you closed the space between you, slow and deliberate.

You saw his eye darken slightly, his gaze following your movement with the precision of a predator assessing its prey. But he didn’t move away. If anything, the tension between you only seemed to tighten as you came to a stop just shy of touching him.

“Careful,” he murmured, voice dropping to a near whisper. “You’re playing a game you’re not prepared to lose.”

You tilted your head, meeting his gaze without flinching. “Maybe I intend to lose. Maybe I know exactly what I’m doing.”

The sound he made—a low, amused hum—sent a shiver down your spine. He was close enough now that you could smell the faint metallic edge of smoke and shimmer clinging to his suit.

“Do you, though?” he asked, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his desk, the movement drawing you in until there was barely a breath of space between you.

Your pulse quickened, but you refused to look away. His good eye searched yours, his smirk softening into something more dangerous. Not threatening, but something far worse: intrigued.

“You’ve always had fire,” he said softly, the words hanging in the air between you. “But ambition without restraint… That’s a dangerous thing in this world.”

“And yet, here I am,” you shot back, your voice steady, though your chest tightened at the weight of his words.

His gaze dipped briefly—to your lips, before sliding back up to meet your eyes. It was fleeting, but unmistakable.

“You’re bold,” he admitted, his voice dropping further, the gravel in it brushing against your nerves. “But boldness doesn’t mean you can stand the heat when you step into the fire.”

“Maybe,” you said, leaning forward until you were close enough to feel the faint warmth of his breath on your skin, “I just enjoy the burn.”

For the briefest moment, you saw something flicker in his gaze—something he quickly buried behind a sharp inhale and another pull from his cigar. But the tension lingered, coiling tight between you like a rope about to snap.

His eye sharpened as your words hung in the air. That flicker of intrigue you’d seen moments ago twisted into something darker, something colder—and yet impossibly more magnetic.

“You think you’ve got it all figured out,” he said, his voice soft but cutting. “That your rise makes you untouchable. But even kings can fall.”

Your lips parted in a quiet scoff. “Kings fall when they stop watching the board. And as far as I can see, you’re the one sitting comfortably on your throne while the ground beneath you starts to crack.”

His laugh was low, more exhalation than sound, as he leaned back in his chair. “A clever metaphor,” he murmured, his tone almost amused, silently nodding to your point. Who would’ve known you would turn this way, follow his path—and even his words? The realization sparked a strange feeling deep in his stomach, a warm, fuzzy sensation creeping up his neck.

“But let me remind you,” he continued, his voice still smooth, “who built that board you’re so eager to play on.”

“And let me remind you,” you shot back, stepping even closer, “that no one stays untouchable forever—not even you.”

For a moment, there was nothing but the hum of tension between you, the air too thick with smoke and unsaid words. And then he moved.

It wasn’t a grand gesture, not with Silco. He didn’t need one. Instead, he stood, the slow scrape of his chair against the floor sending a chill down your spine. By the time he was upright, he had erased the distance you’d carefully maintained, stepping into your space with a precision that left no room for retreat.

“Careful,” he warned, his voice barely above a whisper. The closeness made it feel like a growl. “You might end up liking the view from your knees.”

You felt your breath hitch before you could stop it. The words struck something deep and primal, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of faltering—even though those words stirred something inside you, a desire, a want… a need.

“And you might find,” you said, voice steady despite the way your heart pounded, “that even from my knees, I can be the one in control.”

Something in his expression shifted—just barely, but you caught it. That sharp, calculating mask cracked for a fraction of a second, and you saw the flicker of frustration—or was it fascination?—beneath it.

He reached for the desk behind you, his hand brushing the edge as he leaned in, caging you against it without ever truly touching you. The faint smell of smoke and ash filled your senses, grounding you even as the tension spiraled. All you could smell was his expensive perfume mixed with the burn of his daily cigarettes—his scent, only his.

Maybe your group was waiting for you, wondering what the hell you were doing with Silco, maybe even planning what to do if he killed you. But the situation you were in now was far better than anything else you’d ever experienced. This was the dirty, dangerous dream of a naïve teenager—the dream you’d always had since the first time you met him. You couldn’t risk losing it now.

“You don’t understand what you’re toying with,” he said, his voice lower now, almost a rasp.

“Don’t I?” you challenged, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. “You’re the one who called me here, Silco. So tell me—what exactly are you afraid of?”

The silence that followed was deafening. His eye bore into yours, searching, testing, as though trying to unravel the web you’d spun between the two of you.

And then he smiled. Not the sharp, mocking grin you’d expected, but something slower, quieter—dangerous in its restraint.

“Fear isn’t the word I’d use,” he said, his voice like silk. “But perhaps… curiosity.”

Silco's gaze never wavered from yours as he took a slow, deliberate step forward. There was no more room between you—no space for retreat, no escape from the storm building in the air around you. His scent, his presence, overwhelmed you, filling your lungs and sinking into your skin.

His hand reached up, but this time it wasn't to push you away— it was to lift your chin, gently, but with undeniable force. His touch was cold, his fingers rough against the delicate curve of your jaw, and yet the heat radiating off him burned you alive. You could barely breathe beneath the intensity of his stare.

“I'm curious,” he murmured, voice low and dark, like the very shadows that filled the room. His thumb brushed along your lower lip, soft yet commanding, testing, teasing.

“Do you know what you're asking for?”

Your heart was pounding, but you refused to show weakness. You forced your gaze to stay locked on his, your breath shallow as you leaned into his touch, letting the burn of his fingers draw you closer. You could feel the weight of his presence, the power he exuded, the way it seeped into your very bones.

“I think,” you breathed, voice trembling just slightly, “I'm asking you to show me.”

The words had barely left your lips when his face closed the distance between you, his breath mingling with yours in a shared, heated exhale. His lips hovered above yours, close enough to taste, but he didn't kiss you —no. Instead, he let the anticipation hang, let it build, until you were certain you couldn't take it anymore. Every inch of your skin felt like it was on fire, and all you could think about was the want-the desperate, aching need that had been simmering between you for so long.

“Show you?” he repeated, his voice thick, almost a growl. “You're bold to ask for that.”

Without warning, he pulled you closer, his hand gripping the back of your neck with a quiet authority that made your pulse spike.

His lips finally brushed against yours, a fleeting kiss, as light and delicate as the whisper of a shadow. But that brief touch was enough to send a jolt of heat through your entire body, making your knees threaten to buckle.

Before you could recover, he deepened the kiss-fierce, hungry, as if he'd been waiting for this moment as much as you. His other hand slid to your waist, pulling you flush against him. The heat between you was suffocating, your bodies tangled as the kiss grew more desperate, more urgent. You could feel his heart pounding in sync with yours, the strength in his body pressed against yours, both of you craving something neither could name.

The kiss was a collision of fire and ice, a dangerous dance of control and surrender.

His lips were demanding, possessive, but you matched him, not allowing him to dominate entirely. Every time he pulled back, you followed, chasing him like a moth to a flame.

He pulled away suddenly, leaving you breathless, eyes dark with a mixture of lust and something more complicated-something deeper.

“I've always liked fire,” he rasped, voice rougher now, as though the kiss had burned him just as much as it had you. “But fire... it burns. And you're playing with it.”

You weren't sure if it was the heat of the moment, the way his hands had claimed you, or the raw hunger in his voice-but something inside you snapped.

“I'd say l'm more like an ice burn,” you murmured, your voice dripping with defiance.

Before he could respond, you surged forward, taking control, your lips crashing against his in a kiss that was anything but delicate. 

The hunger between you was instantaneous, primal, as your hands gripped him with a new sense of authority. Silco had always been the one in charge, but now the roles had reversed, and you were the one pulling him closer, pushing him back against the desk with an intensity that left him breathless.

His shock didn't last long. Silco's hands moved, as though to regain control, but you were quicker. You pulled him firmly against you, forcing him to the edge of the desk, caging him there with your body. Your kiss was hungry, urgent, as though you were trying to consume him, and it felt like you were doing just that-biting, tugging, exploring him in ways that left no room for hesitation.

Silco's breath hitched, but this time it wasn't from power-it was from you. You were the one dominating the kiss now, your hands roaming across his chest, your body pressing him down with a quiet strength. He groaned against your lips, caught off guard by your sudden shift, and yet there was no resistance in him now. Only the heat of his body, the fire in his gaze.

His hands found your hips, but you didn't let him move you. You weren't done. Not yet.

“You think you control everything,” you said between kisses, your voice low and teasing.

“But even you can't resist me now.”

His hands tightened on your waist, but he didn't pull you away. Instead, he seemed to surrender to it, to you. His kiss deepened, now one of want-raw and desperate, matching your own intensity as you continued to trap him against the desk.

“Then show me,” he growled against your lips, hands gripping your back, pulling you closer until your bodies were flush against each other. “Prove it.” Silco's growl sent a shiver down your spine, his hands tightening on your waist with just enough pressure to remind you exactly who was in charge here. You may have thought you could control the moment, but Silco wasn't one to be caged-or tamed.

The smirk tugging at your lips faltered as his hands moved, sliding up your back and pulling you flush against him. His strength was effortless, his grip commanding, and the air between you seemed to crackle as he tilted his head, his lips grazing yours in a way that sent a jolt of heat through your entire body.

“Mercy?” he murmured, his voice dangerously soft, though his grip on you was anything but. “You seem to be under the impression that I allow mercy.”

The air between you crackled with tension, charged with an electricity that prickled your skin as Silco's hands tightened on your waist. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the power in his grip, and it only fueled the fire burning within you.

"I don't want mercy," you breathed, your voice low and husky, your lips hovering just a hair's breadth from his.

His good eye darkened at your words, a low growl rumbling in his chest that you could feel more than hear. In a swift movement, he grasped your thighs and lifted you onto the desk, his body moving between your legs as he pinned you there with his weight.

The sudden shift left you breathless, your heart pounding wildly as you looked up at him, his face illuminated by the dim amber light of the lamp. His eye searched yours, intense and focused, as if trying to unravel the secrets hidden beneath your skin.

"Careful what you wish for," he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous purr. His hand slid up your thigh, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he leaned in closer, his lips ghosting along your jawline. “Who would’ve thought you would turn into this nasty dearly thing huh?”

You shivered at his touch, at the way his breath felt against your skin, hot and heavy with want. Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as you arched into him, desperate for more.

"I'm not afraid of you," you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear. "Are you?"

His response was a sharp nip to your earlobe, followed by a low chuckle that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Oh, I'm not afraid," he murmured, his hand sliding higher, fingers brushing against the hem of your skirt. "But you should be."

You gasped as his fingers pushed under the fabric, trailing fire across your skin as they moved higher and higher. Your head fell back, eyes fluttering closed as you lost yourself in the sensation, in the way his touch ignited every nerve ending in your body.

"Enlighten me, Eye of Zaun.”

Silco's response was a low growl, a sound of pure hunger as he captured your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue delved into your mouth, claiming you, possessing you, as his hands roamed your body with a desperate need.

You moaned into the kiss, your own hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, deeper. The heat between you was suffocating, all-consuming, and you felt like you were drowning in the depths of your own desire.

His hands slipped under your shirt, fingers splaying across your bare skin as he broke the kiss to trail his lips down your neck. You arched into him, head thrown back in ecstasy as he left a path of fire across your throat, teeth grazing your pulse point.

"You want me?" he growled against your skin, one hand sliding up to cup your breast through your bra. "You want to see what I can do to you?"

You nodded frantically, too lost in the sensations to form words. Your body was on fire, every touch of his hands sending shockwaves of pleasure through you.

With a low chuckle, Silco's hand deftly unclasped your bra, tossing it aside before his fingers closed around your sensitive peak. You cried out, hips bucking involuntarily as he pinched and rolled the hardening bud between his fingers.

"That's it," he purred, his voice dark with lust. "Let me hear you."

His other hand slipped through your bottoms into your panties, fingers gliding through your slick folds. You were already wet, already aching for him, and he groaned at the feel of you.

“I could practically kill you right now. Cage you— Torture you.” He chuckled as he looked at you, your mind already too lost to answer him. "So ready for me," he murmured, circling your clit with a feather-light touch that had you writhing beneath him. "So desperate."

You couldn't deny it. You were desperate, needy, aching for his touch like nothing you'd ever felt before. This was embarrassing. You always had a crush for the man, but you never stopped this low. Your hands scrabbled at his back, nails leaving crescent marks on his skin as you tried to pull him closer.

"Please," you whimpered, too far gone to care how needy you sounded. "Please, Silco."

“Who’s in control now, dear?”

“F-fuck you Silco.”

“I think it’s the other way around.”  He chuckled darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

His fingers slid through your slick folds, teasing, taunting, stoking the fire that burned within you. You were already so wet, so ready for him, and the knowledge only seemed to spur him on.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire. "So desperate for me, so needy."

He circled your clit with a feather-light touch, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You cried out, hips bucking involuntarily as he kept up the maddeningly slow pace.

"Please," you whimpered, too far gone to care how desperate you sounded. "Silco, please..."

He chuckled darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. His fingers continued their torturous dance, dipping inside you, stroking along your inner walls before retreating to circle your clit once more.

"What do you want, dear?" he asked, his voice a low growl. "Tell me what you need."

Your head thrashed on the desk, fingers tangling in his hair as you tried to pull him closer. You were so close, teetering on the edge of release, and yet he kept you there, balanced on a knife's edge.

"I want you," you gasped, your voice breaking on a moan as his fingers curled inside you. "I want your cock, Silco. Please, give it to me."

He groaned at your words, his eye darkening with lust. With a swift movement, he withdrew his fingers from your dripping core, leaving you empty and aching.

"Beg for it," he commanded, his voice rough with desire. "Beg me to fuck you."

You didn't hesitate, too lost in the throes of your own need to feel anything but the desperate hunger that consumed you.

"Please," you sobbed, your hips rolling shamelessly against him. "Please, Silco, I need your cock. I need you inside me, filling me, fucking me. Please, I'll do anything, just give it to me, give me your cock, please..."

You begged and pleaded, desperate for the touch of his cock, and Silco finally relented. With a low growl, he tugged your panties down your thighs, exposing your dripping core to the cool air of the room. You shivered at the sensation, at the way his eye raked over your body, taking in every inch of your exposed skin.

"So beautiful," he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire. "So perfect."

There was a calculated intensity in his gaze, a sense of purpose that sent a thrill of excitement through you. Silco was a man who knew what he wanted and went after it with unwavering focus.

He pushed your legs apart, settling between your thighs as he freed his cock from the confines of his pants. It sprang forth, hard and thick and already dripping with precum. You licked your lips at the sight, your core clenching with anticipation.

But Silco didn't rush, didn't give in to the desperate hunger that burned between you. Instead, he took his time, his fingers tracing along your slick folds with a maddeningly slow pace. You squirmed beneath his touch, your hips rolling shamelessly as you sought more of him.

"Patience," he murmured, his voice a low growl. "I'll give you what you need, but first, I want to savor every inch of you."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and excitement that left you trembling. Silco was a man who took control, who demanded submission, and the thought of being at his mercy only fueled the fire that burned within you.

With a single, measured thrust, he buried himself inside you, stretching you wide around his thick length. You cried out at the sudden intrusion, your back arching off the desk as he filled you completely.

But even as he claimed you, there was a detachment in his movements, a sense that he was simply taking what he needed without any real emotional investment. He set a steady pace, his hips rocking against yours with a calculated precision that left you breathless.

Each thrust was designed to push you closer to the edge, to shatter the fragile control you clung to. His fingers dug into your hips, holding you in place as he used you for his own pleasure. There was no tenderness in his touch, no whispered words of affection or praise. Instead, there was a cold, clinical efficiency to his movements, as if he was simply fulfilling a basic need.

You could feel the coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter in your core, your body responding to his touch despite the lack of emotional connection. Your nails scrabbled at his back, leaving crescent marks on his skin as you tried to pull him closer, to force some kind of reaction from him.

But Silco remained impassive, his eye never leaving yours as he continued to pound into you with a relentless rhythm. His breath came in short, sharp bursts, his jaw clenched tight with the effort of holding back his own release.

You could tell he was close, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more desperate. But still, he didn't give in to the pleasure, didn't let himself fall into the abyss of ecstasy that threatened to consume you both.

With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he found his release. You could feel the hot spurt of his cum filling you, marking you as his own, and a part of you thrilled at the thought of being claimed by him.

As he pulled away, his softening cock slipping from your well-used core, you felt a sudden chill, a sense of abandonment that left you aching for something more. But you knew better than to ask for it, to beg for the affection and tenderness you craved

For a moment, his eye raked over your naked form, taking in the marks he'd left on your skin, the way your body trembled in the aftermath of your shared pleasure.

But then, as quickly as the moment had come, it passed. Silco straightened, his expression closing off and hiding the small bit of tenderness you could see once in him, becoming once again the cold, calculating man you knew him to be.

He passed you some tissues, "Clean yourself up," he ordered, his voice clipped and businesslike. "And don’t forget to tell your group to stay off what it’s not theirs"

With that, he turned and strode towards the door, leaving you lying there on the desk, exposed and vulnerable. You watched him go, a confusing mix of emotions swirling within you. There was the lingering heat of your shared passion, the ache of your body as it remembered his touch. But beneath it all was a growing sense of emptiness, a longing for something more than the cold, clinical coupling you'd just experienced.

You knew Silco was not a man given to tenderness or affection. He was a survivor, a fighter, a man who took what he wanted and moved on without a second thought. And yet, even knowing this, even understanding the futility of your desires, you couldn't help but wish for more.

With a sigh, you pushed yourself up from the desk, wincing slightly as your sore muscles protested the movement. You grabbed your discarded clothes, pulling them on with shaking hands. As you smoothed your clothes, you couldn't help but wonder what would happen next. You were sure this was not the only time you would be here begging for him after all this.

Only time would tell. But one thing was certain - you were in deep, and there was no turning back now. Silco had claimed you, marked you as his own, and whether he admitted it or not, you knew that you would always be his, no matter how much he tried to deny it.

[misswynters]

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝 Part Two

featuring. sevika x reader x ambessa

warnings. smut (18+), plot with heavy smut, hexstrap/shimmerstrap, threesome, more ambessa/sevika kissing ofc, dom!ambessa, switch!reader and sevika, fingering, degrading?, squirting (kinda), multiple positions(reverse cowgirl,etc.), tittysucking, praising. wlw, slapping, slight dacryphilia, thats it i think?

synopsis. You were sent on a mission to train sevika for an underground tournament, by non other than the tyrant herself, Ambessa Merdarda.

wc. 6.6k

It was almost like the night almost felt like it stretched endlessly as you sat on the plush velvet couch in Ambessa’s private quarters. Her taste for luxury was evident in every detail. She has sleek black walls, golden accents, and the soft glow of ambient lights. Yet, despite the lavish surroundings, your attention was singularly focused on Ambessa as she moved around the room, preparing for Sevika’s arrival.

There was a faint hum of a glowing hexstrap caught your eye. It rested on a table nearby, its blue light casting faint, flickering shadows. You swallowed hard, knowing exactly what it was and what it meant. Ambessa only brought it out for the nights when she intended to lose control. And just the mere thought of her using it tonight sent a shiver of anticipation through you.

“You look stunning,” Ambessa said, her deep voice breaking through your thoughts. You glanced down at the short red outfit you wore, the one she had picked out and bought for you months ago. The fabric clung to your curves, leaving little to the imagination, and you could still remember the way her eyes had darkened when she first handed it to you, her smirk suggesting it wasn’t meant for public viewing.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice soft, almost shy under her intense gaze.

She stood in front of the table now, her hands briefly resting on the glowing device as she adjusted it, her movements deliberate. Her broad shoulders and strong arms flexed with every small motion, and it was impossible not to admire the sheer power she carried so effortlessly.

The clock ticked on, minutes dragging into hours. Sevika was supposed to arrive at 5, and now it was past 7. You tried to hide your disappointment, but it was difficult. Ambessa didn’t seem to share your restraint. She sat beside you on the couch now, her legs spread wide in a display of utter confidence, her arm draped casually across the back of the couch. The air was thick with tension, and you could feel the storm brewing in Ambessa’s chest. She didn’t like being kept waiting, and she despised being stood up. The sharp edge of her jaw tightened as she leaned back, her fingers tapping rhythmically against the armrest.

“She’s late,” she said finally, her voice low and almost dangerous.

You nodded, unsure of what to say. “Maybe something came up?” you offered weakly, though you knew it wouldn’t soothe her.

Ambessa turned her head toward you, raising a brow. “Something came up?” she repeated, her tone dripping with skepticism. “If she doesn’t walk through that door soon, something will come up, all right.”

You bit your lip, not daring to respond. The image of Ambessa’s temper flaring was not something you wanted to dwell on, though part of you felt a twinge of excitement at the idea of her channeling that intensity toward you instead.

As if on cue, a knock echoed through the room, sharp and decisive. Ambessa’s body moved fluidly, her size and stature dominating the space as she stood. You jumped up instinctively, excitement flickering in your chest, but one sharp look from her froze you in place. She tilted her head toward the couch, and you sank back down without a word, your heart pounding.

The door opened, and there she was. Sevika, standing tall and unapologetic despite her tardiness. Her expression was unreadable, though her eyes flicked briefly toward you before settling on Ambessa.

“You’re late,” Ambessa said flatly, her tone was like a void of emptiness.

“Had to take care of something,” Sevika replied, stepping inside and shutting the door behind her. She didn’t elaborate, and Ambessa didn’t ask. Instead, she stepped closer, her presence towering over Sevika in a way that seemed almost impossible given Sevika’s own impressive build.

“You don’t keep me waiting,” Ambessa said, her voice low yet commanding.

Sevika didn’t flinch, though her jaw tightened slightly. “I’m here now.”

Ambessa stared at her for a long second, and you swore you could cut through the tension that was in the air. Then, as if deciding to let it go, she stepped aside, gesturing for Sevika to enter fully. “Come in, then,” she said, her voice taking on a smoother tone, though the undercurrent of authority was still there.

Sevika’s eyes flicked toward you again as she moved further into the room, her gaze lingering for just a moment longer this time. You felt your cheeks heat under her scrutiny, and you quickly looked away, pretending to focus on a random spot on the floor.

Ambessa’s voice broke the silence. “Sit down,” she instructed Sevika, gesturing toward a chair near the center of the room.

Sevika raised a brow but obeyed, lowering herself into the chair with a casual confidence that matched Ambessa’s. She leaned back, one arm resting on the armrest, her other hand idly adjusting the strap of her tank top.

Ambessa turned her attention back to you, her expression softening slightly. “Little one,” she said, her tone gentler now, though still laced with that natural authority she carried. “Bring us some wine.”

You nodded quickly, eager to have something to do. The tension in the room was palpable, and being in the middle of it felt both thrilling and overwhelming. As you poured the drinks, you couldn’t help but steal glances at the two women. Ambessa had a calm demeanor, and Sevika’s was cool and confidence.

When you returned with the drinks, Ambessa took hers without a word, her fingers brushing lightly against yours as she did. Sevika nodded in thanks, her gaze lingering on you for just a moment before she took a sip. The conversation started off slow, the topic of training brought up briefly, though it was clear that neither of them was particularly interested in discussing it in depth. Instead, the focus seemed to shift naturally toward more personal matters.

You sat quietly on the couch, sipping your drink and trying to ignore the way your heart raced every time one of them glanced your way. It was impossible not to feel caught in the middle, both literally and figuratively with each passing second.

Then Ambessa stood, her drink abandoned on the table as she moved toward the glowing strap. She picked it up, her fingers trailing over its smooth rugged surface before she turned to Sevika. “Let’s cut the chase,” she said, her voice low and steady. “We all know why you’re really here.”

Sevika raised a brow, her expression unreadable. “Do we?” she asked, her tone equally calm, though there was a hint of challenge in her voice.

Ambessa smirked, her gaze flicking briefly toward you before settling back on Sevika. “Yes,” she said simply. Their shared look was charged with hidden desire. You couldn’t help but shift slightly in your seat, your body buzzing with excitement. With a commanding look from Ambessa, you stood up towards the two older women. Walking over to them while looking at the one who was sitting.

"Go on, Sevika. I give you my permission to touch my pretty girl." she spoke, gesturing her to lay her hands on you. No one had to tell her twice.

Ambessa followed idly behind the two of you as you led sevika towards the bed. It was quite large, recently bought from the store. Almost as if she has the intentions of this encounter already planned out. Which didn't surprise you. Especially with the way she would talk about sevika, all her plans. The things she whispered into your ears, (which is was the main reason why you agreed to do all of this in the first place) that she would do to the two of you. Only if sevika was willingly.

Sevika's eyes never left yours as you gently pushed her onto the bed, her knees buckling against the edge of the bed. Looking up at you with those sweet puppy eyes, sending a spark straight to your core.

The tension in the room grew heavier as Sevika's hands roamed your body, firm and unapologetic. Her calloused fingertips traced over the shimmering fabric of your red outfit, igniting sparks against your skin. With a swift move, you straddled her large thighs that were bulging with muscles. As you moved your hips against hers, Sevika's breath hitched, a deep groan escaping her throat. You captured her lips, kissing her deeply with hunger, only to pull back just as she leaned in, a teasing smirk dancing on your lips. "You're playing with fire, sweetheart" she muttered, her voice rough, almost warning you to take it slow.

"Maybe I like the heat," you murmured, your voice teasing as your leaned closer to her face. "I’ve always been drawn to danger. But I promise, I’ll play nice… for now."

Her darkened eyes burned into yours as you dared her to take the bait. Before you could react, Sevika flipped you over, her strength undeniable. Your back pressed against the mattress, her larger frame pinning you down. Her hand easily captured both of yours, pressing them above your head with an iron grip. You gasped, feeling the weight of her against you, your chest rising and falling rapidly, drawing her gaze to the glittering fabric of your top.

"You look too good like this," she growled, leaning down close enough that her breath fanned over your lips.

From across the bed, Ambessa watched with a smirk curling at the edges of her mouth. Her slow, steady movements commanded attention as she approached the two of you. Her presence was magnetic, her eyes gleaming with approval.

"Getting carried away already, Sevika?" Ambessa remarked, her voice cutting through the moment like a blade. "I thought you were better at pacing yourself."

Sevika turned her head slightly, meeting Ambessa's gaze without loosening her grip on you. "And I thought you were better at staying out of the way," she shot back, her voice full of bravado.

Ambessa chuckled, low and dangerous. "Careful now. I wasn't the one pinned to the mattress just now with an audience," she teased.

Your cheeks flushed as their banter only added to the tension swirling in the room. As you lay beneath Sevika, helpless yet completely enthralled, your gaze darted to Ambessa as she stepped closer. The glow of the warm lighting casting her in gold. Her powerful frame was accentuated as she removed her outer jacket, leaving her in the fitted sports bra from earlier today, that showcased her sculpted arms and abs.

Ambessa's gaze dropped to you, softening just slightly. "Darling," she murmured, her tone yet again commanding. "Be a good one and let me take it from here."

Sevika raised an eyebrow, her grip on your wrists tightening slightly in defiance. "You think you can just take over?"

Ambessa tilted her head, amusement flickering in her eyes. "I don't think, Sevika. I know."

The room crackled with tension as the two women faced off, their impressive statures and commanding presences filling the space. You couldn't help but feel small between them, and yet Ambessa's eyes always softened when they found you.

Without another word, Ambessa leaned down, her hand brushing against yours as she pulled Sevika up with effortless strength, breaking her hold on you. Placing her on the bed, making her take a place beside you. Sevika stumbled slightly, caught off guard by the sheer power Ambessa exuded, but the flicker of respect, that crossed her face.

"Now," Ambessa said, turning her attention back to you. "Let's show Sevika how things are really done."

You hesitated, your breath hitching as you caught the glint of something wicked in her eyes. Sevika remained by the bed, watching closely, her gaze darting between you and Ambessa. You sat up slowly, trying to steady your racing heart.

Ambessa extended a hand to you, her fingers brushing lightly against your cheek before trailing down to your arm.

"Come here," she murmured, softer this time still with the same lustful tone.

Your hesitation only made her smirk deepen. "Don't make me say it twice," she warned, and that was all it took to get you moving.

As you scooted closer, Ambessa's hands found your waist, pulling you flush against her. Her lips claimed yours in a kiss that was both tender and possessive, a stark contrast to Sevika's earlier intensity. When she finally pulled back, her thumb brushed over your lower lip as if savoring the moment.

Sevika let out a low chuckle from her spot on the bed, her arms crossed as she leaned back slightly. "Looks like l'm not the only one getting carried away," she teased, though her gaze betrayed her interest.

Ambessa shot her a look, a sly smile tugging at her lips. "Stay long enough, Sevika, and maybe you'll learn something." The words hung in the air, a challenge laced with promise. Her voice was low and commanding as she leaned back, towering over you. Her gaze flickering between you and Sevika. "Who wants to go first?" she asked, her tone like velvet wrapped around steel.

There was heavy anticipation that lingered the room, the golden light reflecting against the intricate decor of Ambessa's chambers. You swallowed hard, a mix of eagerness and nerves flickering in your chest. "I'll go," you said, barely above a whisper, yet filled with confidence.

Ambessa's lips curled into a knowing smile. "I thought as much." She crossed her arms, her presence dominating as she watched you approach closer towards Sevika. "But let's make this interesting," she added, leaning forward slightly. "You'll have the privilege of taking the lead. And if you can get Sevika to submit-" her voice dipped, rich with implication, "—then maybe I'll keep rewarding you."

Sevika raised an eyebrow at you, her expression amused. "Think you've got it in you?" she teased, her deep voice carrying a playful edge. She let you push her down onto the soft bed again with a grin, clearly more intrigued. "Go on, impress me."

You rolled your eyes at her arrogance but felt a flicker of heat at the challenge. "Cute, Sevika," you murmured, leaning over her. "But don't forget, Ambessa gave me the reins."

Sevika smirked. "Only because she thinks you're adorable when you try. Don't forget this is your second chance, sweetie." Her words sent a surge of determination through you. You straddled her confidently, your palms pressing against her shoulders as you pushed her back. Sevika let you, her expression never losing that infuriatingly smug edge. She was testing you, watching to see how far you'd go.

"Adorable, huh?" you whispered, your lips hovering dangerously close to hers. You pressed a light kiss against the corner of her mouth before pulling back just enough to see her eyes darken. "Let's see if you're still calling me that in a few minutes."

Ambessa's laughter rumbled from her seat on the bed. "That's my girl," she said approvingly, her tone laced with amusement. You could feel her eyes on you even as you focused on Sevika.

Without warning, Ambessa came behind you, her hands resting lightly on your hips. "Go on," she murmured near your ear, her deep voice sending a shiver down your spine. "Show me how you handle her."

Sevika's smirk faltered slightly as you leaned down, pressing kisses against her neck, her collarbone, and lower as your hands worked beneath her clothes. Her breathing hitched, the steady rhythm breaking as you nipped gently at her skin. "Not bad," she muttered, her voice rougher now. "But you're gonna have to do better."

Ambessa chuckled, her hands steadying you as she lifted the hem of your top. "Oh, don't worry," she said, her voice dripping with authority.

"My darling here is just getting started." You felt Ambessa's warmth behind you, her hands brushing against your waist as she whispered something low and indecipherable. Her control was intoxicating, and combined with Sevika's tension beneath you, the air in the room felt electric.

Sevika's hands, rough and calloused, found your thighs, gripping firmly as if she was daring you to push her further.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" she asked, her voice low, her gaze sharp. "Thinking you're in control?"

You leaned close, your lips brushing her ear. "Maybe I am," you whispered. "Or maybe you're letting me."

Ambessa's rich laughter filled the room again as her hands briefly tightened around your waist. "Clever," she remarked. "Both of you. I wonder who's truly in charge here."

She adjusted the glowing hextech strap that she had oat her side, its faint blue light casting ethereal patterns against the dimly lit walls. The buzzing sound of its energy resonated in the room. An underlying current of power that heightened every breath, every lingering touch. She loomed over you, her presence overwhelming as her large hands traced along your waist, lifting the delicate fabric that clung to your body.

"Relax," Ambessa murmured, her deep voice urging you to obey. She pushed her hips toward yours, her strength noticeable in the way she moved. Each subtle movement sent shivers coursing through your body. Her thrusts were precise, the sounds of your hips slapping against each other filled the room. Yet she kept her gaze locked onto your ass, watching every action with a smirk of satisfaction. The way your pretty folds part as she presses her cock deep inside you. Clenching around her so perfectly.

"Fuck-" you cursed under your breath as you could feel the tight knot in your stomach grow. The wetness of your pussy became more prominent making it easier for the long and thick strap to hit the deepest parts. You didn't know if you wanted her to go harder, faster or slow down. However you were trying your hardest not to beg for anything more, now that sevika was underneath you. Showing her submissive side. But you couldn't hold it in any longer.

"Please go faster!-" you begged against Sevika's neck as you left love bites on them. How could the woman say no to you when you were being so obedient. Her pace quicken trying to get you to come for the first time tonight. Wet squelching noises could be heard across the room, as you were almost reaching your release. After a few more seconds of it, you finally came on her cock. The arousal seeping outside your folds, coating the strap in a thin layer.

"Good job, little one" Ambessa breathily said as her grip was still on your hips this time slowly pushing inside of you.

You groaned as she pulled out completely, the hexstrap hummed as it shot a load onto the small of your back. The glowy substance felt warm, having the near same consistency as the real thing.

Sevika was beneath you, her sharp features softened by the flicker of light and the slight upward curve of her lips. She let out a low, approving hum as you leaned closer, your lips brushing hers in a kiss that grew increasingly hungry.

Her calloused hands settled on your hips, guiding you as your fingers began to explore. The warmth of her skin beneath your touch sent a thrill through you, and you couldn’t resist trailing your lips down her neck. Each kiss you left on her skin felt like a brand, earning quiet sighs and groans of approval from the woman beneath you.

“Don’t stop,” Sevika begged, her voice husky as her fingers tightened their grip on your hips. Her gaze locked with yours for a moment, her dark eyes betraying the vulnerability she rarely let anyone see.

From behind, Ambessa’s presence remained firm. Her hands rested at your waist as she slipped inside you against. Keeping the same slow pace. earning a moan from you as your thighs shivered. “Take your time,” she murmured, her deep voice sending shivers down your spine. “Enjoy her.”

Encouraged by her words, your hands slipped beneath Sevika’s shirt, pushing the fabric up and over her shoulders. She assisted with a smirk, lifting just enough for you to pull it off completely. Her toned form was on full display, and your breath hitched at the sight of her.

“You’re staring,” Sevika teased, though her voice faltered slightly when you leaned down and pressed your lips to the curve of her collarbone.

“Can you blame me?” you shot back, a playful smirk on your lips before you resumed your exploration. Your kisses trailed lower, each one met with a quiet groan from Sevika.

Ambessa’s fingers tightened slightly on your waist. She leaned forward, her breath warm against the back of your neck. “You’re doing well, little one,” she whispered, her voice a mixture of approval and pride.

Sevika’s chest rose and fell rapidly as your lips moved lower, pressing against the curve of her mounds. You placed soft kisses there, savoring the way her body responded to your touch. Her hands tangled in the fabric of your clothing, her sharp nails grazing your skin as she fought to keep her composure.

"Fucking hell. You're going to drive me insane," Sevika admitted, her voice rough as her hands settled on your shoulders. Tilted her head back against the pillow.

Ambessa chuckled softly behind you, her hands sliding along your sides. "Then let her," she said, her voice rich with amusement. "She's clearly quite skilled at it."

Her hands gripped your hips firmly, her strength an anchor that steadied and overwhelmed you at the same time. You felt her fingers tighten on your hips, spreading your ass cheeks so she can see her cock go slowly inside of you. Guiding you against her pelvis, the wet lewd sounds coming from your pussy again could be heard. Her gazed remained at the place where the two of you connected. The strap was glistening with your arousal from earlier.

Her low voice broke the silence, thick with satisfaction. “Look at you,” she murmured, her words carrying a mix of pride and affection. “Taking my cock so perfectly like it was made for you.” She leaned forward again, her breath hot against the shell of your ear.

As the woman behind you became more determined, the rhythm became slowly more relentless, making you lean forward and reach for Sevika's lips. She met you eagerly, her hands traveling along your sides, exploring every curve with an almost possessive need. Her lips were warm, her kisses hungry. It was as though she wanted to mark you as hers with every brush of her lips, every press of her fingertips.

Each thrust of Ambessa's hips pushed you closer to Sevika, your body molding against hers. A low, guttural sound escaped your lips as Sevika’s strong hands roamed across your back and down your thighs, leaving a trail of warmth and sparks in their wake. Her grip tightened suddenly, her nails digging into your skin, the slight edge of pain grounding you further in the moment.

“Can’t get enough of you,” Sevika muttered against your lips, her voice rough and thick with desire. Her hands slid lower, brushing against the fabric of your clothing before finding the warmth of your skin beneath. She tilted her head to the side, giving you better access to her neck as you continued to kiss and mark her. Leaving a trail of faint red where your lips and teeth had claimed her.

Ambessa's voice broke through again. "You're beautiful like this, little one," she said, her words wrapping around you.. Her hands moved in sync with her thrusts, her grip harden as she picked up the pace. The sound of your bodies slapping together filled the space, the atmosphere thick with heat and longing.

Sevika's hands suddenly shifted, her fingers trailing between your thighs. Her touch was hot as her fingers moved in gentle, teasing circles, her smirk widening when you let out a sharp moan. "That's it," she murmured, her voice lower now, laced with satisfaction. "You're doing so well for us."

Ambessa's pace quickened, her strength shining in every thrust. Each push from her brought you closer to Sevika, your body pressing against hers as though trying to merge with her completely. The sensation of both of their hands on you: Ambessa's steady grip on your hips and Sevika's teasing touch, was overwhelming in the best way. It felt like they were both guiding you, their movements perfectly in sync.

Your lips found Sevika's again, your kiss messier this time, full of need. She groaned into your mouth, her hands gripping your waist tightly, almost possessively. The slight sting of her hold only heightened the intensity, making you melt further against her.

Ambessa's voice returned, softer now, yet still commanding. "Don't hold back, little one," she murmured, her eyes fixed on you with unwavering focus. "Let us hear you."

Sevika’s fingers pushed deeper against your clit, her touch perfectly timed with Ambessa’s movements. You clung to Sevika, your hands tangling in her hair as you pressed kisses along her jaw and down to her chest, leaving marks wherever your lips landed. Her fingers slipped inside your folds as well, causing a strained moan from your lips. Oh how good it felt. Her fingers began to go deeply inside of you constantly hitting that sensitive spot repeatedly.

Noticing this, with jealousy that your attention was focused towards sevika other than her, a switch flipped inside of her. She pushed your upper body down onto the other woman's chest as she hoisted your hips up. You cried from underneath her, staining Sevika's chest with your tears and drool as she fucked you into ecstasy.

Ambessa kept pounding into you, her huge thumb rubbing your clit. “Just like this, little one? Only i could fuck you this way, nobody else can make you cry like this.” Ambessa chuckled as you nodded in response.

You cried once more before Ambessa thrusted into you, hips slamming hard against yours. Trying your best to continue your kisses and bites that you were leaving on Sevika's chest, moving forward with each relentless thrust. To silent your moans you began to suck on her tits, swirling your tongue around her nipples.

Ambessa leaned her head back as she continued her pace. Biting away her moans as she gripping your hips so hard that it was definitely going to leave bruises the next day. She groaned silently, "Fuck, so tight around me"

“Little one, can you beg for me again?” she whispered soft as she leaned over towards you, your back against her large frame. You couldn’t respond as you were too busy sucking on the chest that was infront of you, hearing her low soft moans. Ambessa noticed this and directed a hit on your ass, getting your attention immediately. And once she got you to stop, she caressed the spot where she spanked you. Gosh you didn’t know she was into spanking. This makes the situation you were in much better. Remembering what her words were you spoke again.

"Fuck me like you did earlier, harder this-"

Out of nowhere Sevika's lips captured yours roughly. She sat up her warm chest against yours, her arms around your waist. Ambessa was shocked to say the least but she didn't stop. No, she wanted to see where this could go.

With a smirk, Sevika began to fondle your chest harshly, her lips mouthing down your neck and towards your hardened nipples. Through the thin fabric of the lingerie, she took one of them into her mouth and sucking on it. Just like you did to her. She looked up at you. "Just wanted to return the favor, sweetheart."

Tears began to fill your eyes as you began to feel the knot in your stomach tighten again. But it felt different this time. There was more pressure building up. With a cock slowly antagonizing your folds, Sevika's fingers buried inside you as she rubbed your clit and now her mouth on your chest. It felt like a dream. Sadly it was too good to be true.

Just before you could reach your climax, Ambessa stopped her pace, pulling out of you completely. Sevika followed suit as well, her fingers left a void inside your folds and her lips were no longer on you. She looked at you with a teasing smirking face. No way this wasn't planned, they both stopped at the same time.

"My dear," the women behind you spoke, clearly talking to Sevika. She leaned against your back as she hungrily pushed her lips against the other woman. Both of them were moaning softly against each others lips, it was a scene to behold. You were caught in between them as they ravished one another, tongues dancing within their mouths for the upper hand.

Ambessa began to slowly cupping her mounds, pinching her sensitive nubs as their kiss began to be more needy. Saliva began to build up on their lips as sevika began to slightly drool down her chin. 'Not fair, not at all'. You thought. They were leaving you empty, with nothing to do but stare.

You sat there watching, unable to do anything at all. Starting to whine, as you lazily tried to bring Ambessa's hand towards you.

"Don't do anything, Darling," The taller woman whispered into your ear as she momentarily stopped before continuing her ravishing attack on Sevika's now swollen lips. Ambessa bite her lips with such force that it drew blood. "Stop suppressing your moans, my dear. I wanna hear you"

A strained moan erupted through Sevika's lips immediately as Ambessa pulled her closer. You were now being smushed between them. The heat that was radiating from all three of your bodies was unbearable.

Ambessa's hands were now roaming your chest, pinching your nipple as well. You leaned back towards her rough shoulders in pleasure. The rough material of her sports bra, moved against your back. You began to buck your hips backwards trying to get the emptiness feeling a inside of you a start-up.

"Fucking hate you" the younger of the two whispered against her lips. Smirking, trying to get a reaction from the elder. But it wasnt enough. You were sitting there right between them when it happened, close enough to feel the tension crackling in the air like a storm about to break.

Smack.

The sharp sound of the slap echoed in the room, starting you into a shock stillness. Sevika's hand was still raised, trembling slightly while Ambessa remained perfectly still her head turned from the force of the strike.

You could feel the weight of their gazes, the anger in sevika's eyes and the dangerous calm in Ambessa's. Slowly she straightened, her smirk returning, though her expression now carried a hungry edge.

"Well," she drawled, her voice low and rich, making your skin prickle. her eyes flicked to yours for the briefest moment, and you swore you saw amusement. Leaning closer to Sevika, her arm wrapping around your shoulder. "Ha! Didn't think you had it in you," Ambessa chuckled her fingers tracing the spot where Sevika's hand had landed, savoring the sting feeling.

Her voice dipped lower, you could barely breath as her voice coiled the air between like smoke. "Careful, my dear. A move like that could lead to...dire consequences."

"Oh come on, you bitch!" sevika whispered against her lips slightly, pushing at Ambessa's shoulder causing her to let go of her hold on you. Unbelievable. You looked at sevika with worry, knowing that Ambessa doesn't like to be told the opposite of what she wants to hear. In this case, it was disobedience. However, it was weird to see her be amused like this.

Ambessa chuckled softly, as she moved behind you, her steps slow. You turned instinctively, your heart pounding as she settled herself on the bed leaning against the headboard. Her legs spread with a casual confidence, and her hand patted her lap with an air of command, her eyes locked onto yours.

“Come here,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. You hesitated, caught in the lustful moment. Before you could take crawl towards her, Sevilla turned, her sharp gaze slicing through the air as she grabbed you firmly by the waist. Pulling you back against her.

“No,” Sevika said firmly, her voice a warning, hinted with a softer, almost pleading tone.

Ambessa mirrored her response, her smirk widening as if this was all a game to her. “No?” she repeated, her voice dripping with amusement. “We’ll see about that.”

With an ease that defied her strength, Ambessa leaned forward, her arm snaking around your waist with a controlled grip. You barely had a moment to react before she lifted you effortlessly and placed you on her lap, holding you there with an authority that made your breath catch.

Her gaze flicked to Sevika, daring her to act, while her other hand rested lightly on your back, keeping you steady. “Comfortable?” Ambessa asked, her smirk now a full grin, as if she already knew the answer.

Sevika’s jaw tightened, her hand still outstretched as though she might reach for you again. The tension in the room was palpable, the air heavy with unspoken words and unrelenting stares.

Ambessa leaned back into the pillows for a moment, her arms spread out along the headboard as if she owned the entire room. Which she did. Her gaze was sharp, predatory, as it settled on Sevika. A slow, knowing smirk played on her lips as she issued her next command.

“Sevika,” she said, her voice smooth, yet laced with the kind of challenge that made your heart race. “Come here.”

Sevika froze, her body tensing visibly. She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest as she held her ground. “Are you fucking crazy?” she shot back, her voice edged with disbelief and anger.

Ambessa’s laughter was rich, almost mocking, as she shifted slightly forward. Her eyes glinted with amusement. Like it was a game. “Oh, I’ve been called worse,” she said, her smirk widening. “But let me make one thing clear, I love putting people in their place.”

She straightened, her presence overwhelming as her words cut through the tension in the room. “And tonight, I think I’ll start with you.”

Her gaze flicked down to you briefly, and her expression softened just enough to make the contrast with her earlier tone striking. “You,” she murmured, brushing her fingers lightly against your arm, “always do what you’re told. Why wouldn’t you? I take care of you. I make sure you’re safe, comfortable—everything you need, I provide.”

Her words sent a ripple of emotion through you, but the moment was fleeting. Ambessa’s attention snapped back to Sevika, her voice sharpening like the crack of a whip.

Without warning, Ambessa sat up on the bed. You couldn’t help but feel small under her towering presence as she closed the distance between herself and Sevika. She stopped inches away, leaning down until her hands rested on her knees, her face mere inches from the younger. Her eyes burned with intensity, and the air in the room grew heavy, charged with hot tension.

“You’ve got a fire in you,” Ambessa murmured, her voice low and dangerous. “But let’s see if you can follow a simple instruction.”

Sevika glared back, her defiance unwavering, but the slight hitch in her breath betrayed her unease. Ambessa reached out, her hand swift and firm as she gripped her chin, tilting her head up with an rough precision. The gesture was primal, and the air between them was suffocating. You could only watch as Ambessa’s thumb brushed against her jawline.

“Get me the other strap,” Ambessa ordered, her voice calm but with a bite that made it clear she wasn’t asking. She tilted her head toward the nightstand without breaking her gaze, her smirk returning as she studied Sevika’s reaction.

For a moment, the room was still, the air thick with defiance and control. Sevika’s eyes darted to the object on the nightstand, then back to Ambessa’s unyielding stare. Her lips parted as if to speak, but no words came.

Ambessa’s gaze didn’t waver as she held Sevika’s chin firmly in her grip. Her voice, broke the heavy silence. “Put it on,” she said, the words clipped but carrying an undeniable weight.

Sevika’s jaw clenched under her hand, her defiance flickering like a flame that refused to be extinguished. But even she seemed to understand the futility of resistance. With a sharp breath, she reached for the glowing device on the nightstand.

Ambessa released her chin with a satisfied smirk, her attention shifting back to you. In one swift motion, she moved back to her spot, pulled you onto her lap once again. Her arm wrapping securely around your waist.

“Now,” Ambessa continued, her voice like velvet over steel, “Come here. Sit behind my darling here.”

Sevika paused, the device still in her hand as her eyes darted to you, then back to Ambessa. “You can’t be serious,” she muttered, though there was a hesitance in her voice that hadn’t been there before.

Ambessa chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in her chest. “Oh, I’m very serious,” she replied, her smirk growing as her free hand rested lightly on your shoulder, a silent reminder of her control over the situation. “Do as you’re told, Sevika. Or would you like me to remind you why I’m the one in charge?”

The challenge hung in the air, thick and unrelenting. For a moment, you could feel Sevika’s internal battle, her grip tightening on the strap. But then, with a reluctant sigh, she moved. Slowly, she approached the two of you, her movements cautious as though she were trying to maintain some semblance of control in a situation that had clearly slipped from her grasp.

As Sevika settled behind you, her proximity added another layer to the already charged atmosphere. Ambessa’s smirk widened, her fingers brushing lightly against your arm as she leaned closer, her voice dropping to a low murmur meant for you alone.

“See?” she said softly, her words laced with amusement. “Everything falls into place, just as it should.” As if she was pondering her discussion just now, it was a like a light bulb switched on her face.

"Actually, Little one" She spoke into your ear as she caressing your hair with her big hands. Your eyes widened at her request, almost murmuring a no. However you knew better. Settling beside the woman, you shyly ushered sevika to sit on Ambessa's lap.

Hesitantly but surely she did, as she was told.

Sevika reached down again with her hand to line the glowy cock with her folds. Slowly, she lowered herself down, pausing briefly when the tip pushed inside. Once it was inside, she grabbed Ambessa's thighs, as she sunk down on the cock. Her mouth open as each inch filled her completely. The initial stretch burned for a short second, but after that she had to take a moment to adjust to the girth.

Her nails digging into her thick and muscular thighs. She leaned towards you, kissing you of the lips as a hand pushed her towards you at an angle. Arching her back deliciously. Slowly, the woman began to bounce of her length already getting used to the feeling, as her own strap followed the movements. Moaning into your lips as every time Ambessa's hips bucked upwards.

"Fuck." she breathed out.

"That's it, be a good girl and cum on my cock" Ambessa gripping her hips tightly, as she began to bounce the woman at her own accord. With each thrust the wet noises that came from her folds grew louder. It was a nice thing to hear, someone who wasn't you crumbling against her.

part three?

taglist. @blckbny @themostlesbianever @galaxydreamer468 @mpenguin7 @mvistl @dollstry @abitchnamedtia @ab2ysw1fe @lizzy222y @lexi2000 @sevsluts @yer-boiiii @jayden-prentiss @humbledaylily556 @desnaa @lottiesviolence @abitchnamedtia @twinklewrinkle @waffleurs @ariariarr @robzo4 @queenofboredom02 @wolfessa @thesecondhandwoman @darktrashpoetry @sssydneyyyosallie @moonlight-dreamer-04 @nyxportals @kaidain @mommymilkers0526 @yaeil @fortluocha @gravegoer @themostlesbianever @m00nd0v3 @idk2anym @hhot289 @eddiemunsonsgirlie @pitstopsapphic @cewl-casper @nikaachuuuu @randomstuffthatdontmakesense @femme-historian @randomperson291 @cookie-crumble2 @brrrkdslek-personal @sevikelllsss

[yeyinde]

waking up after a night out drinking in a foreign country only to realise that the bed you're in is not your own. no one is beside you. you try to leave but the doors are all locked. the windows won't open. you're trapped. a pretty bird in a cage.

nothing is in the dressers except large, old shirts. the clothes you were wearing when you woke up disappear after you take a shower. no panties. no bra. food shows up on schedule. you never see who leaves it.

they don't answer when you scream. when you bang your fists against the door until they're bloodied. passing out on the floor when the drugs finally kick in. but the mess you make in the daytime is cleaned up. your hands bandaged. disapproval heavy in the air along with the stale scent of tobacco. smoke.

when you're good, you get things. books. magazines. treats. your favourite food. a laptop arrives when you sob yourself to sleep after screaming yourself hoarse about loneliness, and how this isn't right. this isn't okay. it's restricted, of course. you log into Facebook but the moment you try and ask for help, the internet is turned off. you're being watched. monitored closely.

you learn your lesson slowly, giving nothing away to your family and pretending you're enjoying your holiday. being good. quiet.

instead of treats, gifts, recipe books arrive—some pages dogeared. you start making the food. leaving a plate in the fridge. it's gone the next morning. more recipes appear. you make them, too. an expensive chain comes next. a pretty gold necklace for a pretty bird in a golden cage.

(each meal gets you a strange rash on your cheek, jaw the next morning. beard burn, you think, and try not to shudder.)

lingerie comes after. silk, lace. all of it fits perfectly. you try to avoid it. the idea, the implication, is a knife between your ribs, but the next morning, your laptop is missing. the books are gone. food, too. your clothes disappear until all that remains is the lingerie set and a little black box. one you pointedly ignore. throw out with the trash. chew on gum to make the ache in your belly go away until that vanishes too.

your world is narrowed down to hunger. loneliness. isolation—

(in the corner of the rooms, a red light glints in the dark. lonely, but not alone.)

it persists until you relent. give in. another lesson you learn. you wear the set to bed, and try to think nothing of it—

you wake up to something heavy around you. a warm, thick body pressed against your bare spine. coarse chair tickling the skin between your shoulder blades. a burly arm under your neck, elbow bent to wrap a rough hand around your neck. the other slung over your hip, shoved between your thighs. something hard presses into your ass. a bruising pressure. it aches. you stifle a gasp, but with his long, thick fingers wrapped tight around your throat, he feels it.

everything goes still. quiet. just the faint rustle of sheets. the scratch of coarse hair on silk. a breath. you tremble. fight back another gasp when lips press into your crown with a sharp inhale. scenting you. nuzzling into your scalp. warm breath that smalls of malt and honey. woodsy. tobacco.

your eyes adjust slowly to the dark, and fall on a black box left on top of your end table. velvet, you know. you've felt the softness between your fingers when you threw it in the trash with a sob. no escaping it, after all.

the hand between your thighs twitches. when he speaks, it shudders through your spine, makes your hair stand on end. it's a growling purr. the low roar of an old engine. more grit than comfort in the midnight dark.

"jus' close your eyes, love," he rasps, pushing his thick body tighter against you. coiling around you like a big, hungry bear. "an' go back to sleep for me."

and you do.

[jupiterpilgrim]

Embracing the Mission

Christmas Special 🎄

Julie x Natty x Belle x Male Reader

word count 14K

A/n: last fic of the Christmas Special

Christmas Eve. Quiet, solemn, lonely. The kind of night where you can’t decide if you’re grateful for the silence or crushed beneath its weight. You drag yourself up the stairs, the old wood creaking under your feet. The dull glow of Christmas lights spills from the living room, blinking in patterns that feel more mocking than festive. You’ve always been a good guy, the dependable one, the “nice” one, but here you are, one stocking hung, one bed waiting for nobody but yourself.

At the top of the stairs, just as your hand brushes the railing, the doorbell rings.

You freeze.

Who the hell rings a doorbell on Christmas Eve this late? Solicitors don’t work tonight, and your neighbors barely talk to you during daylight hours. For a long moment, you consider ignoring it. Then it rings again—insistent, cheery.

You shuffle back down, mumbling under your breath about late-night pranks and cold drafts. Pulling the door open, you’re met with a sight that doesn’t just stop your breath; it slams it into reverse.

Two girls stand on your porch. They’re stunning in a way that should be illegal. The first one has curves so generous they practically defy gravity, her chest straining against a red and green corset that looks stitched from mischief itself. Her long, dark hair frames a face you could mistake for angelic if not for the sly twinkle in her eyes.

“Hi! I’m Natty!” she says brightly, as if this is the most normal introduction in the world.

Beside her, the other one radiates an entirely different energy: poised, commanding, her toned body wrapped in something close to a uniform, sharp lines of green velvet hugging her hips. Her dark brown hair glints in the soft light, and the arch of her brow suggests she’s used to being in charge.

“I’m Julie,” she says, her voice smoother, more measured. Then, in perfect unison, they chirp:

“And we need your help!”

You blink. Then you blink again. “Uh…”

“Wait, where’s Belle?” Julie cuts you off, her brow furrowing as she scans the space behind you.

“Typical,” Natty groans, folding her arms beneath her chest, which only makes the situation more distracting. “Always late.”

Before you can process any of this, a loud thunk echoes from inside your house, followed by a flurry of soot and a muffled cough. Spinning around, you see something—a someone—sprawled across your fireplace hearth.

“What the hell—”

The girl clambers to her feet, brushing coal dust off a mess of blonde hair. She's the same height as that other girl, Julie. With delicate features and wide, apologetic dark eyes that suggest she’s either innocent or very good at faking it. She’s wearing a short red dress streaked with ash, and she’s scowling as if this is somehow your fault.

“Belle!” Natty snaps. “What the hell are you doing?”

“You said to come in sneaky!” Belle protests, hands on her hips. “The chimney’s sneaky!”

“Not that sneaky, dumbass,” Julie groans, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Even Santa Claus doesn’t actually use chimneys. That’s a marketing thing.”

“You said stealth!” Belle shoots back, still smudged with coal and radiating indignation. “Stealth means unconventional entry points! It’s basic infiltration tactics!”

“I swear, I’m going to—” Natty starts, but Julie waves her off, taking a deep breath.

“Let’s just… move on. The whole night’s a disaster already.”

With that, they sweep past you and invade your home.

“Okay, hold up,” you interrupt, raising your hands. “Who are you people, and why are you in my house?!”

Julie turns her piercing gaze on you, suddenly all business. “We’re Santa’s elves.”

You stare. They stare back.

“…Elves,” you repeat.

“Uh-huh,” Natty confirms, nodding so enthusiastically that her chest threatens to break free of its corset.

Belle perks up. “Yeah! We work at the North Pole!” She pauses, then adds, “Well, usually. Technically, we’re on maternity leave before the fact.”

“Maternity leave?”

Julie steps forward, her voice low and commanding. “Look, I’ll cut to the chase. The birth rate in the North Pole is… concerningly low. Like, end-of-our-species low. We need help. Specifically, your help.”

“…My help,” you echo, your brain lagging behind the speed of this conversation.

Natty leans in, her lips quirking in a teasing smile. “We need you to get us pregnant.”

For a moment, the world tilts sideways. “Is this some kind of weird prank? Am I being filmed?”

“It sounds fake, doesn’t it?” Belle says, skipping over to you with a little bounce in her step. “But it’s totally true! Look—” She grabs your hand and drags it toward her head.

“Whoa, what are you—”

“Feel my ear!”

You hesitate, then give in, tugging lightly at one of her pointy ears. It’s soft, warm, pliant, and very much attached to her skull.

“Ow!” she yelps, batting your hand away. “What are you, a sadist?”

“They’re real,” you whisper, finally starting to believe them.

“Duh,” Natty says with a smirk. “So? You in?”

Your laugh comes out half-hysterical. “You think I’m just going to say yes to… to that?!”

Julie crosses her arms, tilting her head. “Why wouldn’t you? You’ve always been a good boy. Generous, kind, single…”

“That’s why I’m single!” you snap, throwing your hands in the air. “I don’t go around impregnating random women—elf women—on Christmas!”

“See?” Belle chimes in. “He is perfect. I told you.”

You groan, running a hand down your face. “This can’t be happening.”

“It’s happening,” Natty says, stepping closer. Her scent—cinnamon and something sweeter—fills your lungs, and suddenly the room feels ten degrees hotter.

Julie’s voice softens, almost coaxing. “All we’re asking is that you help save a species. A race. Think of it as… the ultimate Christmas gift.”

Belle pipes up, already raiding your kitchen. “If you'll excuse me, I'm hungry!”

Natty plops herself onto your couch like she owns the place, her corset straining as she lounges back, legs crossed. Belle's rifling through your fridge now, pulling out milk like this is her second home, while Julie perches herself neatly on the armrest of the chair across from you, her hands clasped like she’s about to break into a corporate PowerPoint presentation.

Julie clears her throat. “All right, let’s break this down. The North Pole is in crisis.”

“Oh, no,” you deadpan, flopping into the recliner. “Is Mrs. Claus filing for divorce? Did Santa get caught in a Ponzi scheme?”

Belle laughs from the kitchen, milk mustache and all. Natty, meanwhile, grins. “Ooh, I like him. He’s got jokes.”

“Let’s stay focused,” Julie says sharply, shooting a glare at both of them before turning back to you. “It’s not a joke. The population at the Pole is dwindling. Our fertility rates have been tanking for decades.”

“Have you ever considered having sex with other elves?” you ask

“Ha,” Julie deadpans. “No. It’s a genetic bottleneck problem. Too much inbreeding, not enough diversity.”

“Oh, God,” you groan, throwing your head back. “Am I about to be roped into a weird elf eugenics experiment? I didn’t sign up for this.”

Natty leans forward, her cleavage doing distracting things that seem entirely intentional. “You’re not roped into anything, sweetheart. But let’s just say you’ve been on the Nice List for decades. That’s not common. We figured, hey, why not pick someone who’s already a certified good boy?”

Belle chimes in from the kitchen, still munching on what might be your last box of Oreos. “And it’s not like you’ve got any plans tonight, right?”

You glare at her. “I could’ve had plans.”

“With who?” she shoots back, raising an eyebrow as she holds up a half-eaten cookie. “These? Didn’t think so.”

Julie rubs her temples like she’s dealing with toddlers. “The point is, the North Pole relies on elves to keep everything running smoothly. Toy production, reindeer care, Santa’s logistics—”

“—the strip club down on Candy Cane Lane—” Natty interjects with a wink.

Julie doesn’t miss a beat. “—all of it requires a stable population. We’re dangerously low. If we don’t start producing new elves, the entire system collapses.”

“Okay, but why me?” you ask, gesturing at yourself like there must be some mistake. “There’s eight billion people on the planet. You couldn’t have found someone… better qualified?”

Natty shrugs. “Most people don’t qualify for the Nice List. And a lot of the ones who do are, like, seven years old.”

“Or old ladies who bake cookies for their neighbors,” Belle adds.

“And you’re… what? Prime reproductive age? Decent genetics? Plus, you live alone, so no messy drama with spouses or girlfriends. Frankly, you’re the perfect candidate,” Julie finishes matter-of-factly.

You snort. “Wow, thanks. Nothing boosts a guy’s ego like being told he’s a walking sperm donor with no social life.”

“Oh, don’t sell yourself short,” Natty says, standing up and sauntering over to you. She plants her hands on either side of your chair, leaning down until her face is inches from yours. “You’re also cute.”

Your brain short-circuits for a second before you manage to sputter, “Girls, this is crazy. It sounds like something out of an erotic fiction written by a sick mind.”

“It’s practical,” Julie counters. “We’re not asking you to marry us. We’re asking for your… genetic material. Through, uh, direct methods.”

“Oh, is that all?” you say, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Sure, let me just whip out my North Pole application and put ‘elf breeding kink’ under special skills.”

Belle wanders over now, plopping onto the couch and curling her legs beneath her. “Look, it’s not like you’re doing it for free. Think of it as an exclusive, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You get to help save Christmas and have sex with three hot elves. Win-win, right? It's not that difficult, elves are very, very fertile.”

Natty grins, her lips brushing dangerously close to your ear as she whispers, “Bet no one’s ever left that off their bucket list.”

You shove her away gently, shaking your head. “You’re all insane. I should call the cops.”

“Oh, please,” Belle scoffs. “What’re you gonna say? ‘Help, three elves broke into my house and asked me to impregnate them’? You’d be on YouTube before the night’s over.”

“Wait, do elves also watch YouTube?”

Julie sighs, standing up and dusting off her hands. “Listen, we’ll give you some time to think about it. But let’s be clear—this isn’t just about us. It’s about every elf, every reindeer, every child who wakes up on Christmas morning hoping for magic.”

"Be mindful, this could be a total game-changer!” Belle exclaims. “Imagine if other elves join us, we'd have the numbers to make the North Pole council change their rules. Interracial babies for everyone! It would be legendary!” She's clearly excited about the idea.

“That’s a lot of pressure,” you mutter.

Natty strokes your arm, her smile equal parts playful and predatory. “You’ll rise to the occasion. I can feel it.”

Belle snickers. “Or we’ll make you.”

—

You shut your bedroom door, leaning against it like it might keep the insanity out. Your room feels smaller, tighter, like the walls are closing in on you. You sink onto the edge of the bed, staring at your hands, the events of the last hour replaying in loops too ridiculous to comprehend.

Three elves. Pregnant. By you.

You look at the glow-in-the-dark clock on your wall, its numbers mocking you. Midnight, Christmas Day. The kind of moment that should be filled with a warm cup of cocoa, maybe a silly Christmas movie in the background. Instead, you’re debating whether to turn your house into the world’s weirdest fertility clinic.

You groan, dragging your hands through your hair. It’s not like you’re against the idea. They’re beautiful—beyond beautiful—but this isn’t just some quick hookup. They’re asking for something bigger. Permanent. And yeah, it’d be easy to chalk it up to a crazy story you tell yourself later, but you can’t stop thinking about what it would mean.

Kids. Real, flesh-and-blood kids. Yours.

You’ve spent enough Christmases alone to know how heavy the quiet can get. It’s not the sex you’re hesitating about—it’s what comes after. You can’t just pump and dump (so to speak). That’s not who you are.

A burst of laughter from the living room pulls you out of your spiral. You push yourself off the bed and head to the door. Whatever decision you make, it’s better than sitting here stewing in your own head.

When you step back into the living room, they’re sprawled across your couch like they’ve lived here for years. The TV’s on, tuned to some Christmas classic, though the sound’s muted. Natty’s flipping through your Blu-ray collection, shaking her head at your lack of romantic comedies. Belle’s halfway through a bag of chips you’re pretty sure you were saving for New Year’s.

“You know, those were mine,” you say, pointing at the chips.

She grins, cheeks puffed out like a squirrel. “Finders, eaters.”

Julie barely glances up from where she’s scrolling on your phone. “So? Have you come to your senses?”

You take a deep breath, stepping further into the room. “I’ve made my decision.”

The room goes still. Belle pauses mid-chew. Natty freezes with a DVD case in hand. Julie sits up straighter, her eyes locked on you like a hawk.

“I’ll do it,” you say. “On one condition.”

Natty perks up immediately. “Name it, stud.”

“I want to see the kids.”

The room practically tilts sideways with the weight of their confusion.

Julie narrows her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I don’t want to just… make them and never see them again,” you explain, running a hand over the back of your neck. “If we’re doing this, I want to be part of their lives. I want to know them. I want to have a family.”

They all stare at you like you just grew a second head. Even Belle, who has been entirely food-focused until now, sets the chips down to gape at you.

Julie is the first to recover, though her tone is softer now. “Why? That wasn’t part of the deal. You’d be doing your… civic duty, so to speak. Why do you care what happens after?”

You shrug, shoving your hands in your pockets. “Because I don’t want to spend the rest of my life wondering if I made a mistake. I don’t want to be a ghost in their lives. Hell, I don’t even have anyone now, let alone a family. Maybe this is my chance.”

That last part slips out before you can stop it, and you immediately regret how vulnerable it sounds.

The elves exchange glances. Natty bites her lip, Julie furrows her brow, and Belle just looks vaguely guilty. Without a word, they huddle together in the corner, whispering furiously.

“Oh, come on, you’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?” you call out, gesturing to their huddle.

“Shh!” Natty waves a dismissive hand at you, her voice muffled. “We’re deliberating.”

Belle glances back at you once, her lips twitching like she might smile. Julie smacks her on the arm, dragging her back into their huddle.

After what feels like an eternity, they break apart, turning to face you with synchronized seriousness. Julie steps forward as the spokesperson.

“Alright. We’ll allow it.”

“Allow it?” you echo, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” she continues, ignoring your tone. “It’s unconventional, but you’ve proven yourself to be… an exceptionally good boy.”

Natty snickers. “You’re, like, too good. It’s almost weird.”

Belle beams. “It’s sweet!”

You exhale, relief flooding through you. “Okay, good. Then we’re all on the same page.”

Julie smirks, tilting her head toward the hallway. “We are. Now, let’s get started.”

Before you can process her words, Natty grabs one hand, Julie takes the other, and they start tugging you toward the bedroom.

“Wait, right now?” you stammer, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest.

“Uh, yeah,” Natty says, throwing a playful wink over her shoulder. “You’re not getting out of this, Mister Family Man.”

Belle trails behind, licking chip dust off her fingers as she grins, a new bag in the other hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll wait my turn. I’m still eating.”

The door to your bedroom looms closer, and for the first time all night, you realize you might actually be in over your head.

—

The bedroom feels both foreign and familiar, lit softly by the glow of Christmas lights strung around the window. Julie and Natty waste no time, their hands still locked around yours as they pull you toward the bed, their intentions as clear as the sly smiles on their faces. Your heart hammers in your chest as the door clicks shut behind Belle, her footsteps slow and casual.

Natty is the first to spin around, her dark eyes glinting with mischief as she steps in close, the scent of peppermint and something deeper, muskier, teasing your senses. Julie mirrors her movements, sliding behind you with a grace that’s almost predatory, her hands grazing your shoulders.

You’re caught between them, their bodies pressed against you—soft and warm in all the right places. Julie’s lips ghost over your ear, her voice a low purr. “You’re nervous. Don’t be. We’ll make this… unforgettable.”

Natty chuckles, her hands already slipping beneath the hem of your shirt. “Oh, he’s already enchanted. Look at him.”

And she’s not wrong. Your gaze flickers to her pointed ears, impossibly cute, twitching slightly as she speaks. You can’t help yourself; your hand lifts, fingers brushing the curve of one. She gasps softly, her body trembling against you.

“Sensitive, huh?” you murmur, surprised by your own boldness.

Natty smirks, leaning into your touch. “You’ve got no idea.”

Julie’s hands are more decisive, sliding down your chest as Natty tugs your shirt up and over your head, leaving you bare to the room’s cool air. Her nails drag lightly across your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Behind you, Julie’s fingers work at your belt, a faint laugh escaping her lips as she feels the bulge already straining against your jeans. “Well, someone’s eager.”

“You’re the ones who dragged me in here,” you shoot back, though your voice is breathless.

Natty steps back, her chest rising and falling with each shallow breath as her fingers move to the laces of her corset. She catches your gaze, a teasing smile curving her lips as she deliberately slows, each pull on the strings heightening the anticipation. Bit by bit, the tension gives way, and her ample cleavage begins to spill over, the fabric struggling to contain her.

With a final tug, the corset slackens, and she slides it down her torso, her movements fluid, almost hypnotic. The garment falls away, revealing the smooth, unblemished plane of her skin, glowing in the dim light. Her breasts, full and impossibly perfect, sway slightly with her motion, their weight almost defying reason, nipples already stiffened peaks begging for attention.

Natty doesn’t stop there. Her hands travel lower, unfastening her skirt and letting it pool at her feet. She steps out of it, the shift leaving her in only a pair of thin, lacy panties clinging to her hips. Her fingers hook into the waistband, and she peels them down inch by inch, the reveal torturously slow until the fabric slides off completely, leaving her bare.

She stands there unabashed, her toned figure on full display, the curves of her hips leading to the bare mound of her pussy, glistening slightly in the light. She tosses the corset aside with a devilish grin, her eyes locking onto yours.

“Like what you see?” she teases, palming her own chest and giving it a little bounce.

Before you can answer, Julie tugs your pants and underwear down in one swift motion, leaving your cock springing free, hard and ready. She hums appreciatively, her sharp eyes glinting as she reaches out to grip it lightly, her fingers warm and confident.

Belle, meanwhile, has claimed the armchair in the corner, Opening the new bag of chips. She crosses her legs, leaning back like she’s settling in for a show.

“Don’t mind me,” she says, her voice light and amused. “I’m just here for moral support.”

“More like immoral support,” Natty quips, stepping out of the rest of her clothes to reveal curves that could have been sculpted by a god. Her hips sway as she moves closer, and you can’t help but stare, utterly captivated.

You sit on your bed, Julie begins to unbutton the top of her elven uniform, sensually removing the velvet from her skin, The red lingerie reveals her medium-sized, round and perfectly formed breasts that, combined with her smooth skin, leave you almost drooling. She slides down to her knees in front of you, her dark brown hair pooling around her shoulders as she gazes up at you with a wicked grin. “All right, let’s set some ground rules.”

“Ground rules?” you echo, your brain barely functioning under the weight of what’s happening.

“I’m going first,” she says simply, her hand stroking your length with slow, deliberate precision. “I’ll be the first one pregnant. But first…” Her tongue darts out, licking her lips. “We’ve gotta get you nice and ready.”

Natty giggles, pressing herself against your side, her breasts warm and soft against your arm. “Oh, he’s ready. Look at him.”

Julie doesn’t respond, too focused as she leans in, her tongue tracing a line along the underside of your cock. The sensation sends a shiver racing up your spine, and you grip the edge of the bed for support.

“Jesus,” you breathe, your head falling back.

“Not quite,” Julie murmurs, her lips wrapping around the tip.

Her mouth is warm, wet, and devastatingly skilled as she takes you deeper, her tongue swirling in maddening patterns. Natty watches with a smirk, her fingers trailing down your chest, her nails scraping lightly against your skin.

Belle’s voice drifts over from the chair, smug and teasing. “Damn, Julie. Save some for the rest of us.”

Julie pulls back just enough to speak, her breath hot against your slick length. “Patience, Belle. You’ll get your turn.”

Natty leans in, her lips brushing against your jaw as she whispers, “She likes to make a mess. You should see her when she’s serious.”

You groan, caught between the relentless heat of Julie’s mouth and the soft press of Natty’s body against yours.

Julie doesn’t waste a second. She tightens her grip at the base of your cock, guiding it back between her lips with the kind of confidence that only comes from experience—or maybe instinct. Her mouth is pure heaven: warm, wet, and impossibly tight as she takes you deeper, her cheeks hollowing with every movement.

The sight of her on her knees, her brown dark hair falling around her flushed face, has you twitching in her mouth, and she hums in approval, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure straight through you. Her eyes flick up to meet yours, dark and mischievous, as her tongue swirls around your head before she dives lower, taking you all the way in until your cock is brushing the back of her throat.

“Fuck, Julie,” you groan, your hips jerking forward instinctively.

Natty laughs softly from beside you, her full, bare breasts pressed against your arm as she leans in. “She’s a pro, isn’t she? Makes you wonder what other surprises she’s hiding.”

Her voice drips with teasing warmth, and you turn your head, unable to resist the lure of her body. Her tits are huge—soft and heavy, nipples stiff and begging for attention. You cup one in your hand, marveling at the weight of it, and she shivers, biting her lip.

“Don’t be shy,” she murmurs, pushing herself closer. “I’ve got plenty to keep you busy.”

Your mouth finds her nipple, hot and eager, and she gasps, her fingers tangling in your hair as you suck gently, your tongue flicking against the sensitive peak. Her skin is soft and smooth under your lips, and you move to her other breast, giving it the same attention as her moans grow louder.

Meanwhile, Julie’s pace is relentless, her head bobbing as she works your cock with a combination of tongue, lips, and sheer determination. The obscene sounds of her mouth—wet, messy, and utterly filthy—fill the room, mingling with Natty’s soft cries and the distant hum of Christmas lights.

Belle, still perched in the chair with her snacks, snorts. “Damn, Julie, you trying to drown him? I can hear that slurping from here.”

Julie pulls back just enough to shoot Belle a look, her lips glistening with spit. “Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you’d do something useful for once.”

Belle grins, taking a lazy sip of her milk. “I am doing something. I’m observing. Documenting this historic moment. You’re welcome.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Julie mutters before turning her focus back to you.

She grips your cock tighter, her other hand cupping your balls as her mouth slides down again, taking you even deeper this time. The wet heat of her throat surrounds you, and you can’t stop the groan that tears from your chest, your hips bucking slightly.

“Careful,” Natty teases, her voice breathy as you switch back to her other nipple, sucking harder this time. “You don’t want to choke her. She’s got a small throat.”

Julie glares up at her, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she doubles down, her movements faster, rougher, as if to prove a point. The slick noises of her blowjob grow louder, lewd and shameless, and your legs tremble as she works you closer to the edge.

“Holy fuck,” you manage to gasp, your hand gripping her hair as she takes you all the way again, her lips flush against the base of your cock.

Belle claps mockingly from the chair. “Bravo! Give the girl a medal. Or maybe a towel. She’s making a mess.”

You glance down and see that she’s right—Julie’s chin is glistening with spit, and a thin line of drool drips from her mouth to the floor. She doesn’t care. If anything, she leans into it, her hands stroking you as she pulls back to catch her breath, a trail of saliva connecting her lips to your cock.

“God, you’re a mess,” you say, half-laughing, half-moan.

Julie wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, her grin wicked. “You fucking love it.”

And she’s not wrong.

Natty, watching from your side, lets out a low chuckle, her hands sliding down her own curves.

“You’re hogging all the fun,” Natty purrs, leaning forward, her full breasts pressing against your side. “Don’t you believe in sharing, Julie? It is Christmas.”

Julie raises an eyebrow, her tongue flicking out to lick a stray bead of spit from her lips. “Think you can keep up?”

Natty grins, already dropping to her knees beside Julie. “Try me.”

Your cock twitches at the sight of them kneeling together, their hair—a mix of raven-black and chestnut brown—falling around their faces like something out of a dirty dream. Natty’s hand joins Julie’s, her grip firm but teasing as she strokes you alongside her.

“Damn, you’re big,” Natty murmurs, her fingers wrapping around your shaft as she glances up at you. “Santa Claus really chose the right guy.”

Julie rolls her eyes but leans forward again, her lips brushing the tip of your cock as Natty keeps stroking. “Quit talking and get to work,” she mutters before taking you back into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing as she sucks.

Natty doesn’t miss a beat. She leans in from the side, her tongue darting out to lick along your shaft, tracing every vein with slow, deliberate strokes. Her lips are soft and warm as they move lower, trailing down to your balls, and you nearly lose your balance as her mouth closes around one, sucking gently.

“Holy shit,” you groan, your head falling back as they work in perfect sync.

Julie pulls off with a wet pop, her lips curling into a smirk. “He likes that. Don’t stop, Natty.”

“Wasn’t planning to,” Natty replies, her voice muffled as she switches to your other ball, her tongue swirling in slow circles.

Julie takes you back into her mouth, bobbing her head with a steady rhythm that leaves you trembling. She takes you deeper this time, her throat tightening around your cock as she moves faster, her hand stroking what she can’t fit. Natty’s hands roam, one gripping your thigh while the other strokes the base of your shaft in time with Julie’s movements.

“You two are gonna kill me,” you manage to gasp, your hands tangling in their hair as pleasure courses through you.

Natty pulls back just enough to laugh, her lips shiny with spit. “Kill you? Baby, we’re just getting started.”

She leans up, her mouth joining Julie’s at the tip of your cock, their tongues meeting in a wet, messy kiss around you. The sight alone is almost enough to make you lose it—two gorgeous girls, their mouths working together, their spit mixing as they trade kisses and licks across your length.

“God, that’s hot,” Belle mutters from the armchair, her voice low and lazy. You glance over to see her lounging with one leg draped over the armrest. “I’d offer to join, but you two look like you’ve got it handled.”

Julie shoots her a glare without pulling her mouth away, her tongue swirling around your head before she pushes you deep again. Natty giggles, licking a long stripe up your shaft before wrapping her lips around the base, her hand stroking in tandem with Julie’s bobbing head.

The combination is overwhelming—Julie’s throat tightening around you, Natty’s tongue teasing every sensitive spot, their hands and mouths working together like they’ve done this a hundred times before. Your legs shake, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as they push you closer and closer to the edge.

You pull back, your cock slick with their spit, and both women look up at you in surprise, lips swollen, faces flushed.

“Stop,” you pant, your voice rough. “I need more. Julie—get on the bed.”

Julie’s lips curl into a slow, knowing smile. “Finally ready to stop playing around, huh?”

She stands gracefully, peeling off the scraps of her lingerie as she moves. Her body is toned and lithe, her skin gleaming in the soft glow of the Christmas lights outside, visible through the window. Her breasts are perky, her waist narrow, and when she turns to climb onto the bed, you can’t stop yourself from staring at her ass—big, perfectly round, the kind of ass that seems sculpted to be fucked.

Natty is already lying on her back, her legs spread wide, her glistening pussy on full display. She props herself up on her elbows, watching the two of you with a grin. “Oh, this is gonna be good. Don’t be shy, Julie. Show him how it’s done.”

Julie positions herself on all fours, her back arched and her cheeks raised in invitation. She glances over her shoulder, her dark eyes filled with challenge and anticipation. “Well? What are you waiting for?”

You don’t need to be told twice. Climbing onto the bed behind her, you grip her hips, your fingers digging into her soft, supple skin. Her pussy is already dripping, her arousal glistening in the light, and you drag the head of your cock along her folds, teasing her.

“Come on, shove it in my pussy,” she snaps, her voice sharp but laced with need.

“Patience,” you murmur, leaning down to kiss her lower back before pressing the tip of your cock against her entrance.

Julie growls softly, but her breath hitches as you push inside, the tight heat of her pussy clamping around you. She’s wet and snug, her walls pulsing as you slide deeper, and you have to grit your teeth to keep from losing it right there.

“Fuck, that’s good,” you groan, gripping her hips tighter as you bottom out, your cock buried to the hilt.

Julie’s head drops forward, her hands fisting in the sheets. “Mmm, yeah. Just like that. Don’t hold back.”

Natty’s laugh draws your attention, and you glance up to see her spreading herself wider, her fingers teasing her folds as she watches. “Don’t let her boss you around too much,” she teases. “She likes it rough. Don’t you, Julie?”

Julie doesn’t respond with words, just a guttural moan as you pull back and thrust into her again, harder this time. Her ass jiggles with the force, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Natty coos, her voice thick with arousal. She moves closer, her legs spreading even wider. “C’mere, Julie. You’ve got work to do.”

Julie doesn’t hesitate, leaning forward until her mouth is hovering over Natty’s dripping pussy. Her tongue flicks out, teasing the sensitive flesh, and Natty gasps, her hips bucking up toward Julie’s mouth.

“God, that’s good,” Natty moans, her fingers tangling in Julie’s hair.

The sight of Julie buried between Natty’s thighs, her ass raised high and rocking back against you, is enough to drive you insane. You grip her hips harder, your thrusts growing faster and rougher, each one making her moan louder into Natty’s pussy.

“Fuck, Julie,” you growl, your voice ragged. “You feel so fucking good.”

She hums in response, the vibrations making Natty cry out, her legs trembling as she grinds against Julie’s face.

“Don’t stop,” Natty gasps, her eyes fluttering shut. “God, you’re both so good.”

Julie’s moans are muffled by Natty’s pussy, but the way she clenches around your cock with every thrust tells you she’s just as lost in the moment as you are. You lean over her, one hand sliding up her back, your fingers tangling in her hair as you fuck her harder, the sound of your bodies colliding filling the air.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, your chest heaving.

Belle’s voice cuts through the haze from her perch in the corner. “I mean, if you two could make it any louder, that’d be great. I don’t think the neighbors heard you yet.”

“Shut up, Belle,” Julie snarls, her voice muffled by Natty’s folds.

Natty lets out a breathless laugh, her head falling back as she grinds against Julie’s tongue. “She’s got a point. You two are animals.”

You ignore them, too focused on the way Julie’s pussy grips you, the way her ass bounces with every thrust, the way Natty’s moans grow louder as Julie devours her. It’s raw, messy, and perfect, and you’re not sure how much longer you can hold out.

You’re buried deep inside Julie, her tight, wet pussy squeezing you like a vice with every thrust. Her big ass bounces against your hips, and you can’t help the low growl that escapes your throat. She’s good—too good—but there’s something you can’t shake, something you need to see.

Leaning over her, your voice comes out rough, ragged. “Julie… twerk on my cock.”

Julie freezes for half a second, her breath hitching. Then, to your surprise, Natty bursts out laughing from her spot beside you, where she’s still sprawled on the bed, her fingers teasing her swollen clit.

“Oh, you’re in for a treat,” Natty purrs, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “Twerking’s her specialty. Go on, Julie. Show him what you’ve got.”

Julie glances back over her shoulder, her dark eyes glinting with a mix of challenge and amusement. “You think you can handle it?” she asks, her voice low and teasing.

“Try me,” you growl, your hands gripping her hips tighter.

She smirks, planting her palms firmly on the bed as she starts to move. Her hips roll first, slow and deliberate, before she begins to bounce, her ass clapping softly against your thighs. The sensation is unreal—her tight heat milking your cock as her ass jiggles in perfect rhythm, the wet sound of your connection filling the room.

“Holy fuck,” you mutter, your hands sliding down to grip her cheeks, spreading them wide as she works.

Natty props herself up on one elbow, watching with a wicked grin. “Told you. She’s got moves.”

Julie arches her back, her movements growing faster, more intense. She pushes back hard with every bounce, driving your cock deeper inside her, and the sight of her round, flawless ass slamming against you is enough to make your head spin.

“Like that?” she asks breathlessly, glancing back at you.

“Fuck yes,” you groan, raising one hand and bringing it down on her cheek with a sharp smack.

Julie moans, her hips jerking forward slightly before she slams back again, grinding herself against you. “Harder,” she demands, her voice dripping with lust.

You don’t need to be told twice. Your hand comes down again, the slap echoing in the room, leaving a red imprint on her smooth skin. She gasps, pushing back harder, her pussy clenching around you.

“Jesus, Julie,” you growl, your nails digging into her flesh. “You’re gonna kill me.”

From the corner, Belle snickers, her voice lazy but amused. “Yeah, Julie. Work that dick. Milk him dry.”

Julie smirks, but her focus doesn’t waver. Her ass bounces faster, harder, the rhythm hypnotic, and you feel your control slipping as the pleasure builds in your gut, hot and insistent.

“Keep going,” you urge, your voice rough. “Fuck, don’t stop.”

She doesn’t. If anything, she doubles down, her movements wild and relentless as she twerks on your cock, her pussy squeezing you tighter with every bounce. Your breaths come faster, your grip on her hips growing almost desperate as the pressure inside you reaches its breaking point.

“Gonna cum,” you gasp, your thrusts growing erratic as you match her pace.

“Do it,” Belle encourages, her tone teasing but firm. “Fill her up. That’s what she’s here for.”

Natty grins, her voice a purr. “Yeah, Julie wants it. Don’t you, baby?”

Julie moans in response, her movements frantic now, her pussy milking you with every thrust. “Fuck, yes,” she gasps. “Cum in me. Fill me up.”

Her words are your undoing. With one final thrust, you bury yourself as deep as you can go, your cock pulsing as you release inside her. The heat of your cum floods her, and she cries out, her body trembling as her own climax ripples through her.

You stay there for a moment, your bodies locked together, both of you panting and shaking.

Julie collapses forward, her body trembling, chest heaving against the sheets. You slowly pull out, and the sight stops you in your tracks. Your cock slides free with a slick, wet sound, and thick ropes of your cum immediately start dripping from her swollen, glistening pussy, running down her thighs in sticky trails.

She groans softly, her legs shaking as she shifts to the side, collapsing onto her back. “Holy shit,” she mutters, tossing a glance at Natty. “You’re gonna love this.”

Natty grins, already on her knees beside you, her hands sliding over your chest. “Oh, I know I will.” She nudges Julie with her hip, her voice teasing. “Move over, Julie. My turn.”

Julie chuckles breathlessly but obliges, rolling to the side to give Natty space. Natty wastes no time, her hand already wrapping around your cock, stroking it slowly. You twitch in her grip, still sensitive from your release, but she doesn’t let up, her fingers firm and deliberate.

“You’re not done yet, big guy,” she murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to your chest. “We’ve still got work to do.”

Belle snorts from her spot in the chair. “Poor guy looks like he’s already dead. You sure he can keep up?”

“Oh, he can keep up,” Natty replies, her voice full of confidence. She moves lower, her lips trailing hot, wet kisses across your skin, her hand never stopping its slow, steady strokes.

Julie props herself up on one elbow, her gaze fixed on you with a satisfied smirk. “If he can’t, we’ll make him.”

Natty chuckles, her tongue flicking out to tease one of your nipples. The sensation sends a jolt through you, and she grins against your skin. “See? He’s already waking up.”

Her other hand joins in, her nails lightly scraping down your stomach, and your cock twitches again, starting to harden in her grip. She hums in approval, her lips wrapping around your nipple, sucking gently as her hand works you. Slowly you lie down on the bed, pulling Natty with you. The new position allows you to enjoy the best of her touch comfortably.

Julie leans in from the side, her lips finding your neck. “Yeah, relax,” she murmurs, her breath hot against your skin. “Let us take care of you.”

You exhale shakily, your hands resting on their hips as they move together, their lips and hands exploring every inch of you. Julie’s tongue traces the curve of your jaw, while Natty’s mouth moves lower, her kisses trailing down your chest to your stomach.

“Fuck,” you mutter, your head falling back against the pillow.

Natty glances up at you, her grin wicked. “That’s it. Just let go.”

Her strokes grow firmer, her grip tightening around your cock as it hardens fully again, and she laughs softly. “There we go. Good boy.”

Julie smirks, her lips brushing against your ear. “Told you he’d be ready in no time.”

Natty’s hand slows, her thumb swiping over the sensitive head of your cock, smearing the bead of precum that’s already forming. “He’s perfect,” she purrs, her voice dripping with satisfaction.

Belle sighs dramatically from the chair. “All right, Natty, quit hogging him. Let’s see you put that cock to good use.”

Natty laughs, tossing a glance over her shoulder. “Patience, Belle. You’ll get your turn. For now…” She straddles your hips, her wet pussy hovering just above your cock. “It’s my turn.”

You grip her hips instinctively, your body already craving her. “Bring it on,” you mutter, your voice rough with desire.

Natty grins, her hands resting on your chest as she positions herself, her eyes locked on yours. “Oh, I will,” she promises, her voice low and teasing. “You’d better keep up.”

She grips your cock, guiding it to her slick, swollen entrance, her wetness coating the head as she teases you with slow, deliberate movements. You groan, your hands tightening on her hips as the head of your cock pushes into her heat, her pussy stretching to take you inch by inch.

“Fuck,” you mutter, your head falling back against the pillow. “You feel… so fucking good.”

She lets out a low, satisfied moan as she sinks all the way down, her thick, curvy body pressing against you. Her pussy grips you like a glove, tight and wet, and you can feel every pulse, every clench as she adjusts to your size. Her breasts bounce slightly with the movement, full and heavy, her nipples stiff and begging to be touched.

Your hands slide up her waist to cup them, marveling at their softness, and she grins down at you, her dark eyes glinting with amusement. “Like what you see, huh?”

“You’re perfect,” you rasp, your thumbs brushing over her nipples, eliciting a gasp from her. “Thick, juicy… fuck, Natty, you’re incredible.”

She laughs, low and teasing, her hips starting to roll in slow, deliberate movements. “Careful, big guy. You keep talking like that, and I might actually start thinking you’d make a good husband.”

You chuckle breathlessly, gripping her hips as she rides you, her movements smooth and sensual. “Might not be wrong.”

Natty grins, leaning forward slightly, her breasts brushing against your chest as she moves. Her pussy slides up and down your cock with maddening precision, her pace slow enough to drive you crazy, but steady enough to keep you on the edge.

Your cock, still half-numb from your release with Julie, feels like it’s waking up all over again, the pleasure building slowly but intensely. The way her body moves, her hips rolling, her ass bouncing slightly with every thrust—it’s hypnotic, and you can’t look away.

“God, you’re beautiful,” you murmur, your hands trailing up her sides to cup her breasts again, squeezing gently.

Natty moans softly, her pace quickening just slightly. “Mmm, keep talking, sweetheart. I like to hear how much you adore me.”

The sight of her, riding you like she’s in control of the entire world, is almost too much to handle. Her thick thighs frame your hips, her juicy breasts sway with every movement, and her dark hair falls around her face in messy waves.

You glance to the side, catching Julie watching intently, her lips parted as she takes in the scene. “Julie,” you call out, your voice rough. “Kiss her.”

Julie’s eyebrows raise slightly, but she doesn’t hesitate. She moves closer, kneeling on the bed beside you. Natty’s eyes flick to her, and a slow, wicked smile spreads across her lips.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Julie murmurs before leaning in.

Their lips meet in a soft, teasing kiss at first, their mouths moving slowly, testing, teasing. Then it deepens, their tongues tangling, and the sight makes your cock twitch inside Natty.

“Fuck,” you groan, your hands tightening on her hips as she continues to ride you.

Natty moans into the kiss, her movements growing faster, her pussy squeezing you tighter. Julie’s hands slide up to cup Natty’s face, holding her close as their kiss becomes wetter, messier, their moans mingling in the air.

Your eyes flick to the corner of the room, and your breath catches at the sight of Belle. She’s leaning back in the chair, her dress hiked up around her hips, one hand pressed against her panties. Her fingers move in slow, lazy circles, teasing herself as she watches the three of you.

Her eyes meet yours, and she grins, her cheeks flushed. “Don’t mind me,” she says, her voice low and breathy. “Just enjoying the show.”

The combination of Natty’s bouncing ass, her tight, wet pussy gripping you, the sight of her and Julie kissing hungrily, and Belle touching herself in the corner—it’s overwhelming. The pleasure builds rapidly, every nerve in your body on fire as Natty’s hips grind against you, her pussy gripping your cock with that maddening rhythm that has you teetering on the edge. Her thick, curvy body moving with an expertise that makes it impossible to think straight.

But as much as you love the sight of her riding you like this, there’s one thing you need even more.

“Turn around,” you growl, your hands sliding down to her thighs. “I want to see that fat ass while you ride me.”

Natty’s grin widens, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, you like my ass, huh?”

“Love it,” you reply, your voice thick with need. “Now, turn around and show me.”

Natty bites her lip, sliding off you slowly, your cock glistening with her wetness as it slips free. She swings her leg over, turning around to face away from you. And when she lowers herself back down, guiding you into her dripping pussy, the sight is absolutely fucking perfect.

Natty's ass is a fucking spectacle, a fucking masterpiece that deserves to be worshipped. It's not just round and thick; it's fucking voluptuous, a perfect peach that jiggles and bounces with every damn movement. As she sinks down onto your cock, you can see her cheeks spreading, swallowing your shaft like it's fucking hungry for it. She glances back over her shoulder, her hair falling in messy waves around her flushed face.

“Better?” she asks, her voice teasing, as she starts to move her hips in slow, grinding circles.

“Fuck yes,” you groan, your hands gripping her waist. “You’re fucking perfect, Natty.”

Natty laughs softly, her hips lifting and dropping in a slow, torturous rhythm that leaves you panting. Her pussy grips you like a vise, the wet sounds of her movements filling the room as she bounces on your cock.

“Look at you,” she purrs, glancing back again. “Losing your mind over my ass, huh?”

“Can you blame me?” you shoot back, your fingers digging into her hips. “Look at the way it fucking moves.”

She smirks, her pace quickening, her ass clapping against your thighs with every bounce. “Yeah? You like that? You like watching my fat ass swallow your cock?”

“Fucking love it,” you groan, your hips bucking up to meet her movements.

Julie moves in closer, leaning over your chest. Her lips find your neck first, soft and teasing, before trailing down to your chest. “Don’t forget about me,” she murmurs, her voice low and sultry.

Her tongue flicks over your nipple, and you shudder, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure through your already overworked body. She grins against your skin, sucking gently before moving to the other side, her fingers tracing light patterns over your abs.

“You’re lucky we’re letting you take your time,” she teases, her lips brushing against your ear. “Natty could’ve made you cum five minutes ago if she really wanted to.”

Natty laughs, throwing her head back as she rides you harder, her movements wild and relentless now. “He’s just trying to keep up, Julie. Don’t be too hard on him.”

You growl, your grip on Natty’s hips tightening as you thrust up into her, meeting her movements with desperate intensity. The sight of her ass bouncing against you, the wet sounds of her pussy taking you so deep, Julie’s lips on your chest—it’s all too much, but you don’t want it to end.

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” you groan, your voice ragged. “You’re gonna make me lose my fucking mind.”

“Good,” Natty shoots back, her voice breathless. “That’s the idea.”

Julie laughs softly, her lips brushing against your neck. “She’s got you right where she wants you.”

Belle’s voice cuts through the haze from her spot in the armchair, the voice low and soft, almost a moan, the fingers rubbing in a steady rhythm under her panties. “Pretty sure she’s got all of us right where she wants us. Keep going, Nat. You’re killing it.”

Natty’s pace doesn’t falter, her ass slamming down on your cock with every thrust, her pussy clenching around you like she’s determined to drain you dry. The pleasure is overwhelming, building in waves that threaten to pull you under, but you hold on, desperate to make this last as long as possible.

“Come on,” Natty urges, glancing back at you again. “Show me what you’ve got, big guy. Fucking give it to me.”

Natty’s pace is relentless, her thick ass bouncing against your thighs with obscene, wet smacks as her pussy milks you. The sight of her in reverse cowgirl, riding your cock like she’s possessed, makes your chest tighten and your breath come in ragged gasps. Every bounce sends another jolt of pleasure shooting up your spine, the heat in your gut coiling tighter, threatening to snap.

Julie is right on top of you, her lips on your neck, her tongue dragging along the sensitive skin as her fingers pinch and tease your nipples. Each twist and flick sends electric shocks through your body, making your cock twitch inside Natty’s impossibly tight, soaking pussy.

Natty throws her head back, her hair cascading down her back as she grinds her hips in circles, her ass slamming against you with each motion. “Come on,” she growls, glancing over her shoulder at you, her eyes wild with lust. “Pump your cum inside this elf whore's pussy. Fucking fill me up.”

You grip her hips tightly, your fingers digging into her soft, luscious flesh as you thrust up into her, meeting her every movement. The way her pussy grips you, squeezing and pulling like it’s desperate for your cum, drives you to the edge.

“You want me to fill you?” you growl, your voice thick and rough.

“Fuck yes,” Natty moans, slamming herself down on your cock with even more force. “I want all of it. Every fucking drop. Fill me so full I’ll feel it for days.”

Her words send a shiver through you, and you grip her even tighter, pulling her down hard onto your cock. “Say it,” you demand, your voice harsh. “Tell me you want me to breed you.”

Natty moans louder, her head falling forward as she picks up the pace, her hips moving with a wild urgency. “I want it,” she cries out, her voice high and desperate. “Fuck, I want it so bad. Breed me, baby. Please! Fill me with your fucking cum! Make me yours.”

Julie bites your neck, her teeth grazing your skin as her fingers tease your nipples harder. “Listen to her,” she murmurs, her voice dripping with lust. “She’s fucking crazy for you.”

Belle’s laugh echoes from the corner, her voice breathy. “You better not disappoint her, big guy. She’s counting on you.”

Natty’s movements become frantic, her pussy gripping you like a vise as she slams herself down on your cock over and over again. “Come on,” she begs, her voice cracking with need. “I need it. I need you to fucking cum inside me. Fill me up. Breed me like a fucking slut.”

You’re shaking now, your entire body taut as the pleasure builds to an unbearable peak. “Fuck, Natty,” you groan, your hips jerking uncontrollably. “I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“Yes!” Natty screams, her hands gripping her thighs as she rides you harder, her movements wild and uncoordinated. “Do it! Cum in me! Breed me, you fucking stud!”

The words tip you over the edge, and with a guttural moan, you thrust up into her one final time, burying yourself as deep as you can go. Your cock pulses, your seed spilling into her in hot, thick waves, and Natty loses it.

Her entire body shakes as she cums, her pussy clamping down on your cock, milking you for every last drop. “Fuck, yes!” she screams, her head thrown back, her hands clutching at her bouncing breasts as her orgasm rips through her.

Julie watches with wide eyes, her lips parted in awe, while Belle groans softly, her hand moving faster under her panties. “Goddamn,” Belle mutters. “That’s fucking hot.”

Natty doesn’t stop. Even as you cum inside her, she keeps riding you, her hips slamming down with an almost violent force, drawing out every ounce of your orgasm until you’re shaking, your eyes rolling back in your head.

“Take it,” you groan, your voice raw. “Take every fucking drop.”

“Fuck, yes,” Natty moans, her body trembling as her pussy clenches around you, her own release leaving her dripping all over your cock. “I can feel it. So deep. Mmm, so fucking good.”

Finally, she collapses forward onto the bed, her body trembling, your cum leaking from her stuffed pussy as she pants heavily, her face flushed and satisfied. Julie grins, leaning down to kiss you softly.

“You’re a fucking machine,” she whispers against your lips.

Belle laughs, her voice hoarse. “Machine? More like a damn Christmas miracle.”

—

The room smells like sex and sweat, heavy and warm, and you’re sprawled across the bed, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Natty and Julie are curled up on either side of you, their naked bodies pressed against yours like they’ve been there forever. Natty’s thick curves fit snugly against your side, her head resting on your shoulder, while Julie’s toned frame stretches lazily, her fingers idly tracing patterns on your chest.

In the corner, Belle is by the mirror, her dress half off as she scrubs at her skin with a damp washcloth, muttering under her breath about soot and chimneys.

“Should’ve come through the damn door,” she grumbles, glaring at the streaks of black still clinging to her thighs.

“You think?” Julie calls over, her tone dry.

Belle shoots her a look through the mirror but doesn’t respond, focusing instead on her task.

You exhale, finally finding your voice. “Okay, I gotta ask. What’s life like for you guys? The whole elf thing. Is it like a Christmas movie, or is that just marketing bullshit?”

Natty snorts, her fingers trailing lazily down your stomach. “Marketing bullshit. Total propaganda. Santa’s a businessman; he’s gotta sell the magic.”

Julie props herself up on one elbow, smirking. “Don’t get us wrong, it’s not all bad. But it’s not sugar plums and caroling 24/7, either.”

“Yeah?” you ask, glancing between them. “So, what’s it actually like?”

Natty hums thoughtfully, her thumb brushing over your skin. “Busy as hell, for starters. Prep for Christmas is a year-round thing. You think it's just one day, but getting all those gifts ready for billions of kids? It's insane. And the logistics? Nightmare. Planning routes, checking lists twice, dealing with weather issues, and making sure every kid gets exactly what they want. It’s a year-round hustle.”

Julie nods. “We’ve got divisions for everything: toys, logistics, reindeer care, candy production… Don’t even get me started on the gingerbread sector. Those guys are intense.”

Natty chuckles, nudging you with her hip. “And you know that shit about elves being tiny? Total lie. We’re all like this—” she gestures to her body, curves and all, “—which makes squeezing into some of those old workshops a pain in the ass.”

Belle pipes up from the mirror, still scrubbing at a stubborn patch of ash on her shoulder. “And don’t forget the quotas. Everything’s gotta be done yesterday. Santa’s nice and all, but he’s also a hardass when it comes to deadlines.”

You blink, trying to picture Santa as a stern boss, pacing around with a clipboard and barking orders. “So, he’s not the jolly guy in the red suit?”

Julie laughs. “Oh, he is. But don’t let the ‘ho-ho-ho’ fool you. He runs a tight ship. You miss a deadline, and you’re stuck in snow-shoveling duty for a week.”

“Snow-shoveling duty?” you echo, raising an eyebrow.

Natty groans dramatically. “The worst. Endless piles of snow, freezing your ass off while the rest of the team’s inside drinking hot cocoa. It’s brutal.”

Belle, finally satisfied with her cleanup, turns from the mirror, her dress hanging off her shoulders as she walks over to the bed. “And don’t even get me started on reindeer maintenance,” she says, flopping into the armchair nearby. “Those things are divas. You’d think they’d be grateful for the magical oats, but no—Prancer once kicked me because the oats weren’t warm enough.”

“Sounds like a nightmare,” you say, grinning.

“It’s not all bad,” Natty says, shrugging. “We’ve got a pretty tight-knit community. Lots of parties, good food, and the sex—” she winks at you, “—is legendary.”

Julie smirks. “And it’s not like we don’t have perks. Free housing, endless candy canes, and when Santa’s in a good mood, he throws these massive celebrations. Think Mardi Gras, but with more glitter.”

Belle laughs. “And more eggnog. So much eggnog.”

You shake your head, chuckling. “I had no idea the North Pole was this wild. I always pictured it… cleaner. Quieter.”

Natty leans in, her lips brushing against your ear. “Stick around, and maybe we’ll take you there sometime. Show you the real magic.”

Julie hums, her fingers sliding lower on your chest. “But for now, you’re stuck with us. And I’m not hearing any complaints.”

Belle smirks, settling into her chair and crossing her legs. “Not a bad deal, huh?”

You glance around the room—Natty’s warm body pressed against you, Julie’s teasing fingers, Belle’s playful grin—and you can’t help but smile. “Not bad at all.”

The warmth of Julie and Natty pressed against you, their soft bodies against your sides, has you stirring again. It doesn’t take much; their scent, their touch, the memory of the last couple of minutes—it all combines into a haze of arousal that has your cock stiffening between your legs. You glance down, half-laughing at yourself, already semi-hard just from lying there with them.

Natty notices first, her hand brushing lightly over your stomach before trailing lower. She grins when she feels the slight twitch of your cock. “Look who’s ready for round three,” she teases, her dark eyes glinting with mischief.

Julie hums, her fingers joining Natty’s, stroking your chest lightly. “And here I thought we wore him out.”

You chuckle, your breath catching slightly as they touch you. “I guess you underestimated me.”

But your attention shifts to Belle, still perched on the armchair. She’s been quiet, watching, her cheeks flushed pink. “Belle,” you say softly, holding out a hand. “Come here.”

Belle hesitates, glancing between you and the other two before standing. As she approaches, the soft light of the room finally reveals her fully; she’s petite, with small, perky breasts that barely contain their youthful firmness. Her tummy looks soft to the touch, with a gentle curve that accentuates her femininity. It's not flat or toned but deliciously smooth, and only adds to her overall cuteness, making her appear even more delicate and enticing. Her tight, rounded ass complements her figure perfectly, making your cock twitch with anticipation.

She notices you staring and crosses her arms, pretending to be annoyed. “What?”

“Nothing,” you say, smiling. “You’re beautiful.”

Her cheeks flush, and she huffs, climbing onto the bed awkwardly. Julie and Natty make room for her, shifting to the sides, and she kneels between them, looking almost shy.

“I’m not as… experienced as them,” Belle says, her voice quieter than usual.

Natty snickers, leaning against the headboard. “Yeah, no shit. That’s why you stayed in the armchair watching, isn’t it? You were scared.”

“I was not scared!” Belle snaps, glaring at her.

“Sure,” Natty says with a wink.

You reach up, cupping Belle’s cheek gently, and her glare softens as her eyes meet yours. “Hey,” you murmur. “You’re perfect. No need to be shy.”

Her lips part slightly, and you lean in, brushing a soft kiss against her mouth. She gasps softly, her body relaxing as she melts into you, her hands resting on your chest as the kiss deepens.

Natty chuckles behind her, and a second later, her hands slide around Belle’s sides, cupping her small breasts. Belle pulls back from the kiss, gasping as Natty’s fingers pinch and tease her nipples. “See?” Natty says with a grin. “I’ll help you out.”

Julie moves closer, her lips brushing against your neck before trailing down to your chest, her fingers dancing over your abs. “Don’t forget about us,” she murmurs, her tongue flicking over one of your nipples, making you shudder.

You look at the three of them—Belle’s small, trembling frame, Natty’s mischievous grin as she teases Belle’s breasts, Julie’s soft lips trailing down your body—and you can’t help but speak. “You’re all incredible,” you murmur, your voice thick with admiration. “The most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen.”

Julie hums against your chest, her lips curving into a smile. “We’d better be. We’re yours now, after all.”

Natty nods, her hands still on Belle’s breasts. “Once we’re all pregnant, you’re stuck with us. Forever.”

You chuckle softly, your hand sliding between Belle’s thighs, cupping her wet heat. “Best thing that’s ever happened to me,” you murmur, your fingers sliding against her slick folds. “Three perfect girls all to myself? I’ve won the fucking lottery.”

Belle moans softly, her hips jerking against your hand. “You better take good care of us,” she says, her voice breathless.

“I will,” you promise, your fingers brushing against her clit, making her gasp. “I’ll take care of you. All of you.”

Natty grins, her hands sliding down Belle’s sides. “We’ll hold you to that.”

You shift, lying flat on the bed, your hands on Belle’s hips. “Come here,” you say, your voice rough with need. “I want to taste you.”

Belle hesitates for only a moment before nodding, her cheeks still flushed as she straddles your face. Her knees press into the mattress on either side of your head, and she lowers herself slowly, her pink, glistening pussy hovering just above your lips.

You grip her hips, pulling her down, and she gasps as your tongue slides against her folds. She’s sweet and soft, her taste driving you wild as you lick and suck, your tongue swirling around her clit before dipping inside her.

“Oh, fuck,” Belle moans, her hands gripping the headboard as her hips start to rock against your face.

Julie wastes no time, sliding down the bed to take your cock in her hand. She strokes you slowly at first, her eyes glinting with anticipation, before leaning in to wrap her lips around the head, sucking gently.

Natty grins, positioning herself behind Julie. “Let me help,” she says, her hands spreading Julie’s thighs as her tongue dips between them, licking along Julie’s folds.

The sensation of Belle grinding on your face, Julie’s warm mouth on your cock, and the sound of Natty’s tongue working between Julie’s legs is almost overwhelming. You groan into Belle’s pussy, your hands tightening on her hips as you pull her closer, devouring her like you can’t get enough.

Belle’s moans grow louder, her body trembling above you. “Oh, God,” she gasps, her hips moving faster. “You’re so… fucking good at this.”

Julie hums around your cock, her tongue swirling around the head as she takes you deeper. Natty’s muffled moans from behind her only add to the intensity, and you can feel yourself growing harder with every passing second.

Belle’s soft thighs frame your face as she rides your tongue, her sweet, pink pussy dripping with arousal as you devour her. Your hands grip her hips, guiding her movements as you flick your tongue over her clit, sucking it gently before dipping back into her folds. Every little gasp and moan she makes sends a jolt of satisfaction through you, urging you to go harder, deeper.

Above you, Belle’s voice trembles. “Oh, fuck… Oh, God, yes… That’s so fucking good.” Her fingers grip the headboard, her hips moving erratically as she chases her pleasure. “I can’t—oh, my fucking God—”

Meanwhile, Julie has taken your cock in her mouth, her lips stretched around your length as she works you with a fervor that leaves you trembling. She alternates between slow, deliberate bobs and deep, greedy sucks that have your cock twitching in her throat. Her tongue swirls around the head each time she pulls back, lapping at the precum that beads there before taking you deep again, her nose brushing against your pelvis.

Julie moans softly around your cock, her throat vibrating against you as she feels Natty’s hands spreading her ass cheeks from behind. “Natty—what are you—”

Her words cut off into a sharp cry as Natty’s tongue presses against her asshole, teasing the tight ring of muscle with slow, wet strokes. Julie’s body jerks, and her hips push back involuntarily as Natty’s tongue slips inside, swirling and licking with expert precision.

“Fuck,” Julie gasps, pulling off your cock long enough to catch her breath. Her hand strokes you in quick, firm movements as she groans, her voice trembling. “Natty, you’re such a—oh, fuck—such a filthy bitch.”

Natty grins against her, her tongue plunging deeper as her hands knead Julie’s ass. “Damn right,” she murmurs, her voice muffled. “Now keep sucking him, Julie. I’m just getting started back here.”

Julie shivers but obeys, taking your cock back into her mouth with a loud, wet slurp. She’s even more eager now, her lips moving faster, her hand stroking the base in time with her bobs. The combined sensations of her warm, slick mouth and Belle’s pussy grinding on your tongue make your head spin, every nerve in your body alight with pleasure.

Belle’s voice grows higher, more desperate, as her movements become frantic. “Oh, God, oh, God, oh, fuck, I’m gonna—”

You grip her hips tighter, pulling her down hard against your mouth as your tongue flicks over her clit again and again. Her thighs tremble around your head, and she cries out, her body shaking as her orgasm crashes over her.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Belle screams, her hips grinding against your face as you lick her through her climax, her juices dripping down your chin.

Julie moans around your cock, her mouth moving faster as Natty’s tongue works deeper into her ass, licking and teasing with an intensity that leaves her trembling. She pulls back with a gasp, her hand still stroking you as she throws her head back, her voice breaking. “Fuck, Natty, you’re gonna make me cum!”

Natty chuckles, her hands gripping Julie’s hips as her tongue plunges even deeper, her wet, messy sounds mingling with the obscene noises of Julie’s blowjob. “Do it,” Natty growls. “Cum for us, Julie. Let him hear how good it feels.”

Julie’s moans grow louder, her hand tightening around your cock as she strokes you harder, her other hand gripping the sheets. Her body shakes, her voice rising into a scream as her orgasm hits, her thighs clenching around Natty’s face.

“Fuck!” Julie cries, her body jerking as she cums, her hand squeezing your cock as she moans uncontrollably.

Belle slowly climbs off you, her thighs trembling slightly as she kneels beside you on the bed, her flushed face framed by messy blonde hair. She’s still catching her breath, her lips parted, her chest heaving, but the smile she gives you is soft, almost shy.

“You’re fucking amazing,” she murmurs, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “No wonder they can’t get enough of you.”

You grin, still tasting her juices on your lips. “You weren’t so bad yourself.”

Her cheeks flush even deeper, and her eyes dart down to your cock—still rock-hard and glistening with Julie’s spit. She bites her lip, her gaze darkening with anticipation.

“You ready for more?” you ask, sitting up slightly.

Belle nods quickly. “Yeah.”

You guide her onto her back, spreading her legs gently as she lies beneath you. Her small, cute frame is stretched out on the bed, her soft tummy rising and falling with her breaths, her wet, pink pussy practically begging for you. You position yourself between her thighs, the head of your cock brushing against her entrance.

Julie leans back on the bed beside you, her lips curling into a lazy smirk. “Better not scare her off, big guy. She’s still new to all this.”

Belle glares at her but doesn’t respond, her attention fixed entirely on you as you lean over her. Your hands rest on her hips, your cock pressing more firmly against her slick folds, and she shivers.

But before you can push inside, Natty’s voice cuts through the moment. “Wait!”

You both glance up to see her hopping off the bed, her naked body moving with purpose as she heads toward the door.

“Where the hell are you going?” Julie calls after her, annoyed.

Natty doesn’t stop, her voice trailing back. “I saw something in the kitchen. Be right back!”

The three of you exchange confused looks, but you shrug, your attention shifting back to Belle. “Don’t worry about her,” you murmur, leaning down to kiss her softly.

Belle sighs into the kiss, her hands sliding up to rest on your shoulders as you position yourself again. But just as you’re about to push inside, Natty bursts back into the room, climbing onto the bed with something in her hand.

“I’m back!” she announces triumphantly, holding up a candy cane like it’s a trophy.

Julie’s eyes narrow, immediately suspicious. “What the fuck are you doing with that?”

Natty grins wickedly, crawling onto the bed and motioning for Julie to lie down. “Trust me, you’ll like this.”

Julie raises an eyebrow but complies, lying back and spreading her legs slightly. “You’re such a dirty whore,” she mutters, though her tone is more amused than annoyed.

Natty winks. “Takes one to know one.”

She leans down, her tongue flicking out to wet the candy cane before sliding it into her mouth, sucking it slowly. The sight is obscene—her lips wrapped around the striped treat, her tongue swirling over it like she’s giving it the blowjob of its life. When she pulls it out, it’s glistening, coated in her spit.

Belle watches the scene with wide eyes, her breath hitching. “Holy shit,” she whispers, her hands clutching the sheets.

Natty moves between Julie’s legs, guiding the candy cane to her ass. She circles the tight ring of muscle slowly, teasing it, and Julie’s body tenses.

“Relax,” Natty purrs, her other hand stroking Julie’s thigh. “You’re gonna love this.”

Julie groans, her head falling back. “You’re insane. You know that, right?”

“Shut up and enjoy it,” Natty replies, pushing the candy cane in slowly.

Julie gasps as it slides inside, her body arching slightly. “Fuck,” she moans, her hands gripping the sheets.

The sight is enough to drive Belle over the edge. She looks up at you, her eyes blazing with need. “Please,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “I can’t wait anymore. Fuck me.”

You’re no different. Watching Natty work the candy cane into Julie’s ass, hearing Julie’s breathless moans, and seeing Belle’s flushed, needy face beneath you—it’s all too much. You position yourself again, gripping Belle’s hips as you push the head of your cock into her wet, tight pussy.

Belle gasps, her nails digging into your arms as you slide deeper, her walls clenching around you. “Oh, fuck,” she moans, her head falling back. “Oh—god—you’re so big.”

“Fuck, you’re tight,” you groan, your hands gripping her hips as you bottom out, buried to the hilt.

Natty glances up from Julie, a wicked grin on her face. “Looks like someone’s having fun.”

Julie moans louder as Natty twists the candy cane slightly, her hips bucking. “Shut up, Natty,” she gasps. “Keep going.”

You focus on Belle, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in, her tight heat wrapping around you perfectly. Her pussy is tight and wet, gripping your cock with every thrust as you pick up speed, your hips slamming into her with increasing intensity. Her legs wrap around your waist, pulling you closer, her heels digging into your back as if she’s trying to keep you buried as deep as possible.

“Deeper,” she gasps, her voice trembling, raw with need. “Please, fuck me deeper.”

You oblige, driving into her harder, your cock stretching her, filling her completely. Her small body trembles beneath you, her nails clawing at your back as her head tilts back, exposing her neck. You lean forward, your lips brushing against her slick, salty skin, your teeth grazing lightly as you kiss her, your breaths hot and uneven.

“Fuck, Belle,” you murmur against her neck, your voice rough. “You feel so fucking good.”

She moans, her hands clutching at you, holding you close as your bodies press together, sweat and heat mingling as you fuck her. “I can’t… Oh, god… You’re so deep,” she cries, her voice high and desperate.

By your side, Julie’s moans mix with Belle’s as Natty continues to work the candy cane into her ass. Julie’s legs are spread wide, her fingers rubbing her clit in frantic circles as she rocks her hips against the sensation, her breaths coming in sharp, uneven gasps.

“Fuck, this is so dirty,” Julie groans, her eyes fluttering shut as her hips roll against Natty’s hand. “I’ve never… Fuck… No one’s ever done this to me before.”

Natty smirks, twisting the candy cane slightly, earning a loud, shaky moan from Julie. “No one’s ever fucked you like this because no one’s as filthy as us,” she says, her voice dripping with amusement.

Julie lets out a breathless laugh, her fingers moving faster on her clit. “Fuck, you’re right… It’s so fucking good.”

Belle’s voice pulls your attention back to her, her legs tightening around you as you thrust into her, your cock pounding her sweet, slick pussy. “Don’t stop,” she begs, her voice trembling. “Please don’t stop.”

You press your forehead against hers, your bodies glued together as you move, each thrust deeper and harder than the last. Her small frame seems to mold against you, her soft tummy pressing into your abs, her breasts brushing against your chest with every movement.

“I won’t stop,” you promise, your voice rough, almost a growl. “You feel too fucking good.”

Belle’s moans are raw, unfiltered, her arms wrapping tightly around your shoulders as she buries her face in your neck. “Oh, god,” she cries. “I can feel you everywhere. You’re so fucking deep.”

Julie watches you both, her lips parted, her hand pausing briefly as she takes in the scene. “Fuck,” she mutters, her voice husky. “Look at you two. That’s so fucking hot.”

Natty chuckles, leaning closer to Julie, her hand still working the candy cane in and out of her ass. “You think that’s hot? Look at her face. She’s fucking gone.”

Julie laughs breathlessly, her fingers resuming their rhythm on her clit. “Belle, you look like he’s fucking you into another dimension.”

Belle doesn’t respond with words, only a loud, trembling moan as she clutches you tighter, her pussy clenching around your cock like it never wants to let you go.

The intensity builds with every thrust, every moan, every word. You’re driving into Belle with a passion that feels primal, raw, unstoppable, and she takes it all, her body arching, trembling, meeting your movements with frantic need.

“You’re perfect,” you murmur against her skin, your lips finding her neck again. “So fucking perfect.”

Belle’s only response is a choked, desperate cry, her nails digging into your back as she rides the overwhelming sensations.

Julie moans louder behind you, her voice thick with pleasure. “Keep going, big guy,” she urges, her breath hitching. “Fucking destroy her. She’s loving it.”

Natty laughs, her fingers teasing Julie’s clit now as she continues working the candy cane in and out of her ass. “We’re all loving it,” she says, her voice low and sultry.

The heat in the room is almost suffocating, bodies glistening with sweat, the air thick with the scent of sex and arousal. Belle’s moans grow louder, her body trembling against you as her nails rake your back, her pussy tightening around your cock with every thrust. You know you’re close, dangerously close, but you’re not done with her yet.

With a groan, you slide your hands under Belle’s ass and lift her, your cock slipping free for a moment as you shift positions. “Come here,” you murmur, your voice rough and commanding.

Her wide eyes meet yours, her cheeks flushed, and she lets out a shaky gasp as you pull her up into a kneeling position, your bodies pressed together as you sit back on your heels. She straddles you instinctively, her legs wrapping around your waist as you guide her down onto your cock again, the head slipping inside her slick, tight pussy.

“Oh, fuck,” Belle cries, her arms wrapping around your neck as she sinks down completely, your cock filling her to the hilt.

You groan, your hands gripping her hips as you press your forehead against hers, your breaths mingling. The intimacy of the position is electric—her small, soft body pressed against yours, her flushed skin against your chest, her pussy gripping you like it was made for you.

“Fuck, Belle,” you murmur, your lips brushing against her ear. “You feel so fucking good.”

Her voice trembles, her fingers digging into your shoulders. “You’re so deep,” she moans, her hips rocking against you. “I can feel you in my stomach.”

Natty shifts, the air thick with the sound of her own ragged breathing as she pulls the candy cane free from Julie’s slick, stretched ass. Without pause, she rolls to her side, her eyes heavy-lidded with desire as she closes the distance between them. Her thigh slides over Julie’s, skin sticky with the mingling heat of their bodies. Her hips press forward until her wet, swollen pussy meets Julie's in a sticky, urgent clash. The friction sparks a shudder through both of them as she adjusts, their thighs tangling, bodies grinding.

"Alright, give me that sweet pussy, baby.” The sight alone makes your cock twitch inside Belle, and you can’t help but groan.

“Fuck,” Julie mutters, her voice thick with arousal as Natty’s movements create delicious friction. “You really are a dirty whore, Natty.”

Natty grins, her hands gripping Julie’s thighs as she grinds against her, their slick folds sliding together with obscene wet sounds. “Oh, are you surprised, baby?” she purrs, her voice low and teasing.

Belle gasps, her hips moving faster as she rides you, her small body trembling in your arms. “Don’t stop,” she begs, her voice desperate. “Please, don’t stop.”

You grip her hips tighter, guiding her movements as you thrust up into her, meeting her rhythm with raw, passionate intensity. “I’m not stopping,” you growl, your lips finding her neck. “I won't stop until I cum inside that tight little pussy.”

Julie lets out a sharp cry as Natty’s movements grow rougher, her hips bucking against her. “Fuck, Natty,” she moans, her fingers sliding down to rub her clit. “You’re so fucking good at this.”

Natty laughs breathlessly, her body grinding harder against Julie’s. “You're not bad yourself.”

Julie’s only response is a loud, trembling moan, her back arching as the pleasure overwhelms her.

You glance between them, the sight of their scissoring bodies pushing you to the brink. Natty’s thick thighs flex with every movement, her hips grinding in perfect rhythm against Julie’s, while Julie’s fingers move frantically between them, her cries of pleasure filling the room.

Belle’s moans pull your attention back to her, and you grip her tighter, your cock plunging into her with deep, deliberate thrusts. “You’re mine,” you murmur against her neck, your voice rough with need. “All of you. You’re fucking mine.”

“Yours,” Belle gasps, her arms tightening around your neck. “Fuck, I’m yours. Just don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

Natty groans, her eyes fluttering shut as her body moves against Julie’s, her voice dripping with lust. “This is fucking perfect,” she moans. “Keep going. All of us, together.”

The room is a mess of sounds—moans, gasps, the wet slap of skin against skin—and the heat builds higher, the tension coiling tighter with every second, the pleasure driving you all further, the desire to push each other over the edge growing stronger with every movement.

Belle’s trembling body rocks against yours, her pussy squeezing your cock with desperate, wet heat. Every thrust pushes you closer to the edge, your cock throbbing inside her as her soft moans and whispered pleas echo in your ears. The heat between all of you is unbearable, the air heavy with sweat, arousal, and the raw, primal need that none of you can contain any longer.

You grip Belle’s hips tightly, thrusting up into her as she rides you, her small frame pressing against your chest, her legs wrapped around your waist. “Fuck, Belle,” you groan, your voice ragged. “I’m so close.”

Natty’s voice cuts through the haze, her tone teasing and full of lust. “Oh, yes,” she purrs, her hands gripping Julie’s thighs as she grinds harder against her. “That’s what I like to hear. Come on, big guy, she’s the last one. Fill her up. Make her yours forever.”

Belle gasps, her nails digging into your shoulders as she grinds herself harder against you. Her lips are inches from yours, her breath mingling with yours as she stares into your eyes, her gaze filled with desperation and raw need. “Please,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “Please, make me yours. Breed me. I want to carry your baby.”

Her words send a shiver through your entire body, awakening something deep and primal inside you. Your hips buck up harder, your cock plunging deeper into her, and Belle cries out, her arms wrapping tightly around your neck as she clings to you.

Natty’s grin widens, her voice taking on a teasing edge. “Oh, she’s begging for it now. Look at her, desperate for you to knock her up.”

Julie moans louder, her fingers moving frantically against her clit as her hips buck against Natty’s. “Fuck,” she gasps, her head falling back. “He’s going to make her pregnant, and I can’t… Oh—god—I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna fucking cum.”

The symphony of moans, cries, and wet sounds grows louder, the intensity building to an unbearable crescendo. Julie and Natty’s bodies grind together, slick and desperate, their movements wild and erratic as they chase their pleasure.

Belle’s eyes lock onto yours, her lips trembling as she whispers again. “Please… Please cum in me. Make me pregnant. Make me yours forever.”

Her words are your undoing.

With a guttural groan, you bury yourself as deep as you can inside her, your cock pulsing as your release hits. Hot, thick streams of cum spill into her, and Belle screams, her body shaking against yours as she feels you fill her.

“Fuck!” you growl, your arms wrapping around her tightly, your bodies glued together as you pump her full, your hips jerking with each spurt.

The sensation drives Julie over the edge, her back arching as she screams, her fingers pressing hard against her clit. “Oh, fuck, I’m cumming!” she cries, her body jerking violently as her release hits, squirting all over the bed, her juices splashing against Natty’s thighs.

Natty gasps, her hands gripping Julie’s hips as the wetness spreads between them. “Goddamn,” she mutters, her voice thick with lust. “You’re a fucking mess, Julie.”

Belle clings to you, her breathing ragged, her body trembling as she feels the heat of your cum deep inside her. “Thank you,” she whispers, her voice soft and breathless. “Thank you, thank you…”

You hold her tightly, your chest heaving, your cock still twitching inside her as you press a kiss to her forehead. “You’re mine,” you murmur against her skin. “All of you. Forever.”

Julie collapses against the bed, her chest heaving as she laughs breathlessly. “Forever, huh? You’d better be ready to keep that promise.”

Natty chuckles, leaning over to kiss Belle’s cheek. “He’ll keep it. He’s got no choice now.”

The room falls into a warm, heavy silence, broken only by the sound of your labored breaths and the faint hum of satisfaction that lingers in the air.

You look down at Belle, her eyes shining with a mix of satisfaction and adoration. You can't resist the urge to seal this moment with a hot, passionate kiss. You lean in, your lips meeting hers in a fierce, claiming embrace. Your tongue delves into her mouth, tasting her sweetness, feeling her soft moans vibrate against your lips. Her body melts into yours, her arms wrapping around your neck as she kisses you back with equal fervor.

As you finally break the kiss, you rest your forehead against Belle's, your eyes locked onto hers, reaffirming your claim. "Forever," you whisper, and she nods, a small, content smile playing on her lips.

—

You wake up, but your consciousness seems to have stayed behind, trapped in some deep corner of your brain. Every muscle in your body aches, and your cock feels like it’s been through a marathon—probably because it has. The memories of last night flood back in vivid, explicit detail, and you groan, rolling over in bed.

But… the bed feels empty.

Your eyes snap open, and you’re greeted by nothing but rumpled sheets and an eerie quiet. No Natty. No Julie. No Belle.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, running a hand through your hair. “It was a fucking dream, wasn’t it?”

It’s not impossible.

Hell, it wouldn’t even be surprising. You’ve been alone for so long it’s no wonder your brain decided to gift you some kind of depraved Christmas fever dream. But damn, it felt real. The ache in your hips, the dull burn in your back—your body isn’t lying about how thoroughly you were wrecked.

You sigh, dragging yourself out of bed. “Maybe I’ve finally lost it,” you mutter to yourself. “Gone full-on crazy lonely dude. Great.”

Still, the smell of something cooking wafts up from downstairs, and your stomach growls. Dream or not, food sounds like the next logical step. You throw on some sweatpants and shuffle toward the stairs, your feet heavy on the creaking wood.

When you reach the bottom and turn into the kitchen, the sight that greets you makes you stop dead in your tracks.

They’re there.

Julie is in the living room, rearranging the pictures on your walls like she owns the place. Her sleek black hair is tied back, and she’s wearing one of your button-up shirts—too big for her but just short enough to make you gulp.

Natty's in the kitchen, humming to herself as she flips pancakes on the stove, her curves accentuated by the apron that barely covers her, tied loosely around her waist. It's the only thing she's wearing, as a matter of fact.

And Belle? She’s exactly where you’d expect her to be: sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by crumbs, shoving another bite of toast into her mouth. She is wearing one of your shirts. It's massive on her, but she looks so cute and cozy. Her blonde hair is a fluffy cloud of curls, falling haphazardly around her face. It's the most adorable thing ever.

They all turn to you at once, as if on cue.

“Morning, big guy,” Julie says casually, holding up a framed picture of you and your old dog. “You know this was crooked, right?”

“Good morning!” Natty chimes, flashing you a bright smile before flipping another pancake. “I hope you like breakfast. We kind of raided your kitchen.”

Belle waves with her toast, her cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk. “Mmrphning,” she mumbles, crumbs tumbling onto the table.

You just stand there, staring at them, your brain short-circuiting. “You’re… real,” you say finally.

Julie smirks, setting the frame back on the wall. “Of course we’re real. What, you think you hallucinated all that?”

“I wouldn’t blame him,” Natty quips, her tone playful. “Last night was pretty intense. Honestly, I’m impressed he’s still standing.”

Belle swallows her mouthful of toast and grins. “You do look like you got hit by a reindeer or two.”

You blink, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “I… I thought I dreamed it. I woke up, and you weren’t—”

“—in your bed?” Julie finishes, arching an eyebrow. “Yeah, we figured you’d want to sleep in. You earned it.”

Natty plates a stack of pancakes and sets them on the table, her grin widening. “Plus, you looked so cute passed out like that. We didn’t want to wake you.”

Belle grabs a pancake with her bare hands, ignoring the fork sitting right in front of her. “So, are you gonna join us, or are you just gonna stand there gawking?”

You snap out of your daze, shuffling to the table and collapsing into a chair. “This is insane,” you mutter, running a hand through your hair. “You’re real. You’re actually real.”

“Yeah, we established that,” Julie says, sitting down across from you with a cup of coffee. “Now eat. Natty went all domestic goddess for you.”

Natty grins, sliding into the seat next to you and piling your plate high with pancakes. “Don’t get used to it,” she teases. “Breakfast is the only thing I know how to make.”

Belle smirks, her mouth full again. “She’s not kidding. I saw her almost burn water once.”

Natty glares at her, but there’s no real heat behind it. “You’re one to talk, Miss ‘I Eat Cereal with a Fork.’”

You chuckle despite yourself, cutting into your pancakes. “So, this is my life now, huh? Three elves living in my house, eating my food, rearranging my furniture.”

Julie shrugs, sipping her coffee. “Pretty much. We’re pregnant with your babies, remember? You’re stuck with us now.”

Natty leans in, resting her chin on her hand. “Admit it. You love it.”

You glance around the table at the three of them—the sly smirk on Julie’s lips, the playful sparkle in Natty’s eyes, Belle’s adorable, crumb-covered grin—and you can’t help but smile.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “I really do.”

The pancakes are incredible, fluffy and sweet, though the company is sweeter. You shovel another bite into your mouth, glancing between the three of them as they eat—or, in Belle’s case, inhale—at the table. It feels surreal, the warmth of their presence filling the space that, until now, had always felt too empty.

But then Julie sets her coffee down with a soft clink and fixes you with a look that’s somewhere between regretful and serious. “Look, we need to talk,” she says. "There's something you need to know.”

Your stomach flips. “That sounds ominous.”

Natty smirks, nudging your thigh under the table. “Relax. We’re not breaking up with you or anything.”

Belle, mid-bite, chimes in with her mouth full. “We’re pregnant, remember? Well, probably pregnant. Anyway, you're our man now.”

You laugh nervously, but Julie doesn’t budge, her tone calm but firm. “It’s about what happens next. The logistics.”

“Logistics?” you echo, frowning. “What logistics? I thought we just… lived happily ever after or something.”

Julie snorts, crossing her arms. “You think the magic world works like a rom-com? Cute. No, there’s rules. Bureaucracies. Red tape thicker than Santa’s thighs after cookie season.”

Belle raises a hand, still chewing. “Which is always, by the way.”

“Okay, back up,” you say, setting your fork down. “What rules? What are we talking about here?”

Natty sighs, leaning back in her chair. “It’s complicated. We’re technically under North Pole jurisdiction, which means we can’t just pack up and move here full-time. There’s laws against it. Something about maintaining magical secrecy or whatever.”

“Plus,” Julie adds, “having a half-human, half-elf baby is already bending the rules. Some of the North Pole council isn’t exactly thrilled about it.”

You blink. “Wait, what? The council knows?”

Belle grins, finally swallowing her mouthful. “Of course they do. They know everything. They’ve got this creepy snow globe that shows them all the important stuff. Like Santa’s version of the NSA. We're in trouble now, but it's for a good reason.”

“That’s terrifying,” you mutter.

“It’s efficient,” Julie counters.

“But what does that mean for us?” you ask, glancing between them. “Are you saying you’re just going to leave?”

Julie hesitates, glancing at Natty, who takes over. “We’re not leaving you. But we can’t stay full-time, either. For now, we’ll have to visit. Weekends, holidays, that kind of thing.”

“That’s… not what I was expecting.”

“Hey,” Natty says softly, reaching for your hand. “It’s not forever. Once the babies are born, we’ll have more leverage. Interracial babies in the magical world are rare, and they’re considered kind of… important.”

“Important how?”

Belle pipes up. “Well, they’re supposed to be, like, bridges between worlds or whatever. Diplomatic symbols of unity. It’s a whole thing.”

Julie rolls her eyes. “Which is ironic, considering how much the council hates dealing with them.”

Natty nods. “Yeah, but it works in our favor. They can’t exactly ignore us when the kids come along. We’ll push for a reassignment so we can all live together.”

“Reassignment?” you ask, feeling like you’re still two steps behind.

Julie leans forward, her tone all business. “Basically, we’d petition for you to come live at the North Pole. It’s rare, but it happens. Usually for special cases, like this one.”

“You’d really want me to come with you?” you ask, your voice soft.

Natty grins. “Duh. You think we’d go through all this just to ditch you?”

Belle nods vigorously. “We’re a package deal now. Besides, you’d love it at the North Pole. Endless hot cocoa, magical reindeer, zero commute time—it’s awesome.”

Julie smirks. “And cold as hell. Better invest in thermal underwear.”

You laugh despite yourself, the weight in your chest lifting slightly. “So, what happens until then?”

Natty squeezes your hand. “We’ll make it work. We’re not going anywhere, not really. And who knows? Maybe we’ll even get you on the Nice List permanently.”

Belle snickers. “That’s a stretch.”

Julie shoots her a look before turning back to you. “We’re serious, though. You said you wanted a family, handsome, well now you've got yourself a big one. You’re ours now, and we don’t take that lightly.”

The warmth in her voice is undeniable, and you find yourself smiling. “You’re mine too, you know.”

Natty grins, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “Damn right we are.”

Belle, already reaching for another pancake, grins around her fork. “Better get used to it, lover boy. Three elf girls are no joke.”

—

The pancakes are history, coffee mugs bone dry, and sunlight floods the kitchen, casting everything in this weirdly golden, almost-too-perfect glow. Julie, Natty, and Belle are still parked around the table, eyes pinned on you like you’re the main event.

Julie’s the first to break the silence, her voice calm but carrying that no-bullshit weight. “Alright,” she says. “There’s one more thing we gotta hash out.”

“More bureaucratic bullshit?” you ask, half-joking, half-dreading.

Natty leans into her palm, a sly grin tugging at her lips. “Nah, not this time. This one’s about you. What you want.”

Belle tilts her head, her blonde hair catching the light. “Yeah, like… this whole setup? It’s not exactly your typical ‘happily ever after.’ Magic babies, council breathing down our necks, all of us living together—it’s a lot. Like, a lot a lot.”

Julie leans forward, her eyes dead serious but with a softness underneath that makes you pay attention. “We need to know if you’re really in this. Like, all in. This isn’t some fling or a one-night thing that spiraled out of control. This is real. It’s us. It’s a family. Forever. And if you’re gonna bolt or start second-guessing once we start building this life, we need to know now. Because if you’re not solid… it’ll wreck us.”

The word “wreck” just sits there, heavy as hell, daring anyone to argue with it.

You take a moment, looking at each of them. Julie’s got that sharp, take-no-prisoners look softened by something way more raw. Natty’s smirking, sure, but there’s a flicker of doubt behind it. And Belle, sweet Belle, is practically radiating hope, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of the shirt.

“I’m in,” you say, no hesitation. “For all of it. The magic, the council, the chaos. But mostly, I’m in for you. For us. For this family we’re building. Whatever it takes.”

Belle’s lips part in surprise, and her eyes well up slightly. “You mean that?” she whispers.

You nod, reaching across the table to take her hand. “Of course I mean it. I’ve spent enough Christmases alone to know what I don’t want. And what I want is right here.”

Natty’s grin returns, bright and full of mischief. “You realize we’re not exactly the poster-perfect family, right? You’ve got a dirty-mouthed toy-maker, a bossy logistics queen, and a cookie-devouring disaster. Not to mention the kids we’re about to have? That’s a circus waiting to happen.”

You chuckle, glancing at Belle, who’s already looking at the fruit bowl in the corner of the kitchen. “It’s not normal, no. But normal’s overrated anyway.”

Julie’s lips twitch into a faint smile, and she tilts her head. “You’d really give up your life here for us? Your home, your routines, everything you know?”

You shrug, a warm smile spreading across your face. “Home isn’t a place. It’s people. And I don’t need routines—I need you. All of you. Even Belle eating me out of house and home.”

Belle laughs, her cheeks pink. “You’d miss me if I didn’t.”

Natty leans closer, her eyes glinting with amusement. “And the council? The North Pole? That’s a whole different world, you know. It’s not just hot chocolate and snowball fights. You sure you’re ready for that?”

You meet her gaze, unwavering. “I’m ready for anything, as long as it’s with you.”

Julie lets out a soft breath, her shoulders relaxing for the first time all morning. “Well, shit,” she mutters, a smile tugging at her lips. “I didn’t think you’d actually say yes.”

Natty snickers. “Guess we’re stuck with him now, huh?”

Belle squeezes your hand, her grin wide and genuine. “Good. I like being stuck with him.”

Julie rolls her eyes but smiles, reaching out to rest her hand over yours. “Then it’s settled. You’re ours, big guy. Welcome to the weirdest family you’ll ever know.”

You laugh, your chest warm, full, complete. “It’s a family,” you say softly. “And that’s all that matters.”

Natty leans back in her chair, her grin wide. “Weird or not, it’s ours. And I have a feeling we'll be very happy.”

Belle beams, looking at everyone at the table with a certain enthusiasm. “Same.”

Julie claps her hands. “Okay, enough of the sappy shit. Let’s toast to this insanity.” She grabs the pitcher of orange juice and starts pouring it into the mugs around the table.

Julie lifts her mug, her voice low but steady. “To family. The unconventional kind.”

Natty raises her cup, her grin wicked. “To the craziest family of the North Pole.”

Belle lifts her juice, her eyes sparkling with the sunlight and something more. “To us.”

Julie locks eyes with you, her voice calm but full of unshakable resolve. “To family. The kind that doesn’t play by the rules.”

You raise your cup with a laugh. “To family.”

And for the first time, it feels like the holidays aren’t just another lonely season—they’re the start of something real. Something yours. Something forever.

[faebled-stories]

A Night Beyond the Stage

Kinkvember Day 25: Deflowering/Mommy

Red Velvet Irene (Bae Joohyun) x Male reader

TW: Age gap, reader is 19

14k words

AN: The timing of this fic aligning with Irene’s solo comeback is such a funny coincidence. I’ve tailored the story to fit with the excitement of her big moment—hope you enjoy it 💖

The crowd is a living sea of excitement, the lights dimming to signal the start of a moment fans have dreamed of for years. The air hums with anticipation, every breath charged with electricity. Brightly colored banners, lovingly adorned with Irene’s name, heartfelt messages, and slogans, ripple like waves in the soft breeze created by thousands of hands waving light sticks in unison. The synchronized glow bathes the venue in hues of soft red and shimmering white, a radiant tribute to her. You instinctively wave your light stick, matching the crowd’s rhythm as though tethered to the shared devotion filling the air.

You’re one of those fans—a devoted 19-year-old boy, standing near the front of the crowd. For years, you’ve admired Irene’s artistry, her poise, and the quiet yet commanding presence that sets her apart. She’s been your bias since the moment you discovered Red Velvet, captivating you with every performance, every glance, every smile. But tonight is different. This is her night. Her solo comeback. The energy is unlike anything you’ve felt before, and the significance of this moment echoes in the rapid thrum of your heart.

The stage glows with a soft light, and the room erupts as Irene steps into view. She’s radiant, a vision so perfect it feels almost otherworldly. Her outfit sparkles under the spotlights—a sleek, fitted ensemble in deep, jewel-like tones that catch the light with every graceful step she takes. Her hair cascades over her shoulders, glossy and flawless, framing her face in a way that feels too perfect to be real. Her smile is soft yet confident, the kind that somehow feels personal, like it’s meant just for you, even in a crowd of thousands.

Clutching a freshly purchased album close to your chest, your fingers tremble as you grip it tightly. The ReVeluv T-shirt you carefully chose this morning feels almost too bright under the glow of the stage lights, but you wear it proudly, a small token of your devotion. Around you, fans scream and cheer, their voices weaving together into a deafening symphony of love and support. Yet, for you, the sound fades into the background as Irene’s first note cuts through the air. Clear, emotive, and powerful, it sends a shiver down your spine, rooting you in place.

Her performance is mesmerizing. Every move she makes is fluid, every note she sings filled with a kind of vulnerability that feels intimate despite the size of the venue. The air vibrates with her presence, her voice wrapping around you like a warm embrace. The scent of faint perfume and the electric tang of stage smoke mix in the air, creating a sensory backdrop that makes the moment feel surreal. You’re rooted to the spot, utterly captivated, tears stinging the corners of your eyes as the realization hits: you’re witnessing something extraordinary.

When the final note fades and the crowd erupts in a deafening roar, Irene stands still for a moment, soaking in the adoration. Her gaze sweeps across the sea of light sticks and banners, scanning the crowd as if she’s trying to meet every eye. For a brief moment, her eyes seem to land on yours, and your breath catches in your throat. It’s fleeting, and you know it’s probably not meant for you—just a random glance in your direction—but the slight smile that pulls at her lips feels like it’s tied directly to your racing heart. You take what you can get, holding tightly to the illusion of connection in the vastness of the crowd.

As she raises a hand to wave, the gesture is simple but impossibly magnetic, radiating warmth and gratitude. It’s enough to make you feel like you’re the only one she’s looking at, even though you know better. You wave your light stick fervently in response, your heart pounding as though it’s trying to reach her across the distance.

When she finally bows, the crowd’s cheers swell to a fever pitch, the sound thunderous and all-encompassing. She steps back into the shadows of the stage, her figure slowly disappearing as the lights dim. You can barely remember how you managed to stay on your feet, the wave of emotion washing over you threatening to knock you down.

Clutching the album tighter to your chest, you stand frozen for a moment, determined to hold onto the feeling for as long as possible. The memory of her voice, her smile, and the undeniable presence she commands stays with you, a bright, glowing ember burning in your chest. You know this moment—this fleeting connection, imagined or not—will stay with you forever, a reminder of the night she shone brighter than ever.

The crowd gradually settles, but the buzz of excitement remains, rippling through the room like an unspoken connection. The event transitions to the fan interaction segment, and you feel the air shift as Irene takes her seat on the stage. Fans file into neat lines, each holding gifts, albums, and handwritten notes, their nervous energy palpable. Your heartbeat quickens as the line in front of you inches forward, each step bringing you closer to the moment you’ve dreamed of.

You grip your album tightly, the edges pressing into your palms, grounding you as your nerves threaten to take over. Around you, there’s a cacophony of sounds—the chatter of fans in line, the occasional burst of laughter, and the soft hum of background music. Yet, all of it seems distant, muffled by the pounding of your heart. You’ve rehearsed what you want to say countless times, but now your mind feels like a blank slate, wiped clean by the overwhelming reality of being so close to her.

As the fans ahead of you step forward, Irene greets each with her characteristic grace, her warm smiles and soft chuckles filling the space like a gentle melody. Watching her interact, you can’t help but notice how genuine she seems—her gaze attentive, her demeanor effortlessly charming. She accepts every letter, every memento, with a delicate touch, her hands brushing against those of the fans who hand them over. Each small moment feels precious, and your chest tightens with the realization that soon, it will be your turn.

When the fan directly in front of you steps aside, the world slows to a crawl. Irene’s eyes lift, locking onto yours, and the breath catches in your throat. The stage lights frame her like a halo, her features soft yet dazzlingly vivid—every detail etched into your memory. Her expression shifts to one of gentle curiosity as you approach, her lips curving into a small, encouraging smile that makes your legs feel like jelly.

You step forward, gripping the album so tightly now that your knuckles are white. Her presence is magnetic, pulling you in with a force you can’t resist. She’s even more breathtaking up close, her skin glowing as if lit from within. The subtle scent of her perfume, fresh and floral, reaches you, blending seamlessly with the charged air around her. Her hair, perfectly styled yet natural, catches the light in soft waves, framing her face in a way that seems impossibly elegant. Everything about her radiates a quiet confidence, a strength wrapped in warmth.

Your lips part, and for a moment, nothing comes out. The pounding in your chest drowns out everything else, your thoughts a tangled mess. Then, somehow, you find your voice, shaky but audible. “Hi… uh… Irene-noona,” you manage, the words tumbling out awkwardly. Your voice cracks slightly, and you feel your cheeks flush with heat, but her reaction erases any embarrassment. Her smile deepens, her eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that feels impossibly reassuring.

“Hello,” she says softly, her voice smooth and melodic, each syllable grounding and disarming all at once. “Are you having a good time?”

You nod so quickly it’s a miracle your head doesn’t fall off. “Y-yeah! It’s been amazing,” you stammer, clutching the album tighter before awkwardly holding it out for her. “I—I’ve been a fan of yours for… a really long time.”

Her delicate fingers brush against yours as she takes the album, and the gentle contact sends an electric jolt up your arm. You’re sure she notices the way your breath hitches, but if she does, her expression remains serene. “Thank you,” she says, her eyes lifting briefly to meet yours before they focus on the album. Her pen moves fluidly across the glossy surface as she adds her signature. “It means a lot to me that you came.”

You blurt out the first thing that pops into your head, your voice louder than you intended. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything!” Your face flushes immediately, and you scramble to backtrack. “I mean, not just this… I mean, anything you do is worth it. Like, you’re just really… uh, incredible.”

Her lips curl into a small, amused smile, and she tilts her head slightly, as if trying to figure you out. The soft light catches in her eyes, making them sparkle. “You’re sweet,” she says, her tone light and teasing. “Is this your first fan meet?”

You nod vigorously, then clear your throat, trying to compose yourself. “Yes. First time seeing you… like, in person.” Your words come out disjointed, and you wince internally. “I mean, obviously in person. Because otherwise, it’s just… online. Or videos. But now it’s real. Not that the other times weren’t real—”

Her soft laugh interrupts your rambling, and you freeze, realizing just how much you’ve been talking. “I get it,” she says, her tone warm and full of amusement. “You don’t need to explain.”

You bite your lip, nodding sheepishly as your fingers twitch nervously around the album. “Right. Sorry. I just… it’s surreal, you know?”

Her smile softens, and something in her gaze shifts, growing warmer. “Well, I’m glad I get to be part of your first experience,” she replies gently. Her voice feels so personal, so inviting, it’s almost as though she’s speaking directly into your thoughts. “Are you nervous?”

You laugh awkwardly, a dry, choked sound that you instantly regret. “A little,” you admit, your hand moving to the back of your neck in a clumsy attempt to play it cool. “Okay, maybe a lot.”

Her soft laugh feels like a reward, and you swear you see a glint of mischief in her eyes. “Don’t be,” she says, her voice light but carrying an undercurrent of sincerity. “It’s just me.”

“That’s kind of the problem,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. “I mean—not a problem! It’s just you’re, you know, you. And I’m… me.”

Her laugh is more open this time, a genuine sound that makes your heart flip. “And what’s wrong with being you?” she asks, her teasing tone laced with sincerity.

You open your mouth, then close it again, unsure how to respond. “Nothing, I guess,” you mumble, your voice so soft you’re not sure she even hears it.

Her expression softens further, and the simplicity of her next words catches you off guard. “It’s nice meeting you,” she says, and somehow, it feels like the most genuine thing you’ve ever heard.

As she finishes signing, she holds the album out to you, her fingers lingering just slightly against yours as you take it. The sensation is fleeting but searing, and your grip tightens around the album as if it’s the only thing tethering you to reality.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “For everything. Your music, your… everything.”

Her head tilts again, a habit you’re quickly finding endearing. Her eyes meet yours in a way that feels unguarded, and for a moment, it’s as though the chaos of the room has dissolved into silence. “Take care,” she says softly, her smile lingering like an imprint in the air as you step back.

You clutch the signed album to your chest as you move away, every sensation from the past few moments replaying in your mind like a loop. The warmth of her fingers, the sound of her voice, the way her gaze made you feel seen. Each memory burns vividly, etching itself into your heart as one of the most precious experiences of your life.

After your encounter with Irene, you leave the signing area, your heart still hammering from the interaction. The world outside the small bubble of that moment feels oddly distant, like you’re walking through a dream. Clutching your signed album tightly, you wander aimlessly, letting the energy of the lingering fans wash over you. Everywhere you look, posters of Irene smile back at you, her image larger than life and yet somehow still not quite as radiant as she was up close.

You pause by one of the posters and instinctively pull out your phone. The absurdity of the moment hits you as you angle the camera for a selfie, trying to capture yourself next to her glossy image. “As if this could compare to the real thing,” you mutter under your breath, but you laugh softly at your own awkwardness and snap a few pictures anyway.

Other fans, catching sight of your antics, approach with wide smiles, eager to strike up conversations. Their excitement is infectious, and before you know it, you’re swapping stories about your favorite songs, performances, and how incredible Irene looked tonight. For a while, the warmth of shared admiration eases the nervous flutter still lingering in your chest. You even manage to laugh along as one fan reenacts their over-the-top reaction to Irene’s smile during their brief meeting.

But just as you’re starting to feel like yourself again, the easy atmosphere is interrupted by the arrival of a staff member. Her polished, professional demeanor contrasts sharply with the casual energy of the fans around you, and her gaze is sharp as it lands on you.

“Excuse me,” she says, her tone polite but firm, her eyes scanning you as though assessing every detail.

You blink, startled. “Uh… me?” you ask, your voice coming out higher than you intended.

“Yes, you,” she replies, nodding briskly. “Please follow me.”

Your stomach twists into a knot, and a flicker of anxiety sparks in your chest. “Did I… do something wrong?” you ask hesitantly, clutching your album tighter.

“No,” she says, her tone still impassive. “We just need you to come with us. This way, please.”

Her vague response only fuels your confusion, but curiosity outweighs your hesitation. You nod mutely, trailing after her as she leads you toward a side entrance. The farther you move from the bustling crowd, the more the energy of the venue fades, replaced by a quieter, more subdued atmosphere.

The staff member guides you through a discreet door, and you step into a backstage area. The contrast is jarring. The distant hum of fans is replaced by the low murmur of crew members and the soft clatter of equipment being packed away. The air feels cooler here, tinged with the faint scent of stage makeup and metal. Overhead lights flicker dimly, casting long, uncertain shadows along the corridors.

Your pulse quickens with each step, your mind racing to understand what’s happening. Was this a mistake? A misunderstanding? Why would someone like you be brought backstage? The question loops in your head, unanswered, as you follow the staff member down another hallway.

Finally, she stops in front of a small door, slightly ajar, light spilling softly into the hallway. “Please go inside,” she says simply, stepping aside.

You hesitate, glancing at the door with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. “Wait, what’s—”

But before you can finish, the staff member gives a small, polite smile and walks away, leaving you alone. You swallow hard, your palms clammy as you reach for the door and push it open.

The room inside is unexpectedly intimate. The warm glow of ambient lighting reflects off vintage mirrors, casting a golden hue over the elegant draperies and minimalist furniture. The faint scent of her perfume drifts through the air, calming but somehow charged with an undercurrent of mystery.

Your breath catches as your gaze lands on a familiar figure. Irene is standing by one of the mirrors, her back to you, adjusting a few strands of her hair. The sight of her in this quiet, private space feels almost unreal—like stumbling into a dream you hadn’t realized you were having.

She turns slowly, her movements so fluid and deliberate they seem almost choreographed, and when her eyes meet yours, it feels like the air has been sucked out of the room. A physical jolt courses through you, your body instinctively tensing under the weight of her gaze. Her expression is calm, but the glint of mischief in her eyes makes your pulse race. She exudes confidence, yet there’s an undercurrent of something playful—something that sets your nerves on edge in a way you can’t quite describe.

“Hi again,” she says softly, her tone light but with an intimacy that seems to wrap itself around you. The space between you feels charged, the kind of tension that makes the smallest movements seem monumental.

She takes a step closer, her presence magnetic and overwhelming. “I’m glad you didn’t leave right away,” she murmurs, her voice warm but carrying an edge that sends a thrill of anticipation through you.

You swallow hard, managing a shaky nod as you clutch the signed album against your chest like a shield. “I—I didn’t know this was going to happen,” you admit, your voice trembling under the intensity of her gaze.

Her lips curve into a deeper smile, the kind that feels dangerous yet alluring. “Did you hope for it to happen?” she asks, her tone teasing but laced with a gravity that makes your heart stutter.

“I… I don’t know,” you stammer, the words spilling out clumsily. “I mean, I didn’t expect—”

Her laugh is soft and melodic, wrapping around you like a silken thread. “You’re nervous again,” she observes, tilting her head slightly, her sharp eyes studying your face as if she’s savoring your reaction. “You were like this earlier too.”

“I’m not… that nervous,” you blurt out, but your voice betrays you, trembling just enough to make her raise an amused brow.

“Not that nervous?” she echoes, taking another deliberate step closer. The warmth of her proximity washes over you, her presence filling every inch of the space between you. “Then why are your hands shaking?”

Your gaze darts down instinctively, and your stomach twists when you see she’s right. Your fingers tremble as they clutch the album, and you quickly adjust your grip, trying in vain to steady them. “I’m just… overwhelmed, I guess,” you admit, your face burning as you glance back up. “This whole thing is just… so unexpected.”

Irene chuckles softly, the sound low and intimate, sending a shiver down your spine. “Unexpected, hmm?” she muses, tilting her head as though savoring the moment. “Did you not hope for a moment like this? Even a little?”

The weight of her words presses down on you, and your mind scrambles for an answer. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. The silence stretches, her gaze unrelenting, and the way she looks at you feels like she’s peeling back every layer, leaving you exposed.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” she says, breaking the quiet, her voice playful yet carrying an edge that sends heat coursing through you. She lets the words hang for a moment, the corners of her lips curving up just slightly. Then she steps closer, so close now you can feel her warmth like a physical touch. “Tell me something,” she continues, her tone dropping lower, almost conspiratorial. “Have you thought about me before?”

The question spins in your mind, sending your thoughts spiraling. “I—I mean, yes,” you manage to stammer, each word a struggle. “I’m a fan, so of course—”

“No,” she interrupts, her voice steady but with a sharper edge that makes your breath hitch. Her eyes narrow slightly, the teasing glint giving way to something more focused. “Not like that. I mean… have you ever thought about me in a way that’s… more personal?”

The meaning of her words crashes into you, and you feel your face flush hot. “I—uh, I don’t… I didn’t—” The words tangle together, and your voice dies in your throat, leaving you stammering helplessly.

Her smile widens, the satisfaction in her eyes unmistakable. “Relax,” she says, her tone softening, though the teasing lilt remains. 

She lets the silence stretch again, her presence consuming every corner of the room as her gaze lingers on yours. Then, with a tilt of her head and a shift in her expression, her voice drops to a softer, almost vulnerable tone. “Do you think I’m sexy?”

The question lands like a thunderbolt, the weight of it knocking the breath out of your lungs. “W-what?” you stammer, your voice cracking slightly under the pressure. “I—I mean…”

Her eyes remain steady, unwavering, as though she’s daring you to answer. “You heard me,” she says simply, her lips curving into a faint smile that feels both inviting and dangerous.

Your mouth goes dry, and the air between you feels impossibly heavy. After a long pause, you finally manage to croak out, “Yes. I—I think you’re… you’re very sexy.��

Her smile deepens, a flicker of excitement lighting her eyes. She steps even closer, the warmth of her body brushing against your arm. Her fingers trail lightly across your skin, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. “Good,” she purrs, her voice low and melodic, dripping with satisfaction.

She pauses, letting the tension between you build before her gaze sharpens again. “You know,” she begins softly, her voice intimate and steady, “it’s okay to be honest with me.”

You blink, struggling to steady your breath. “Honest about… what?” you manage to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Her smile turns coy, but the intensity in her eyes only grows. “You’ve thought about me before, haven’t you?” she asks, her voice slow and deliberate, every word rolling off her tongue like honey. “Not just as a fan, but… in other ways.”

Your heart slams against your ribs as you scramble for a response. “I—I don’t know what you mean,” you stammer, though the heat rising to your face makes it clear that you do.

Her soft laugh is low and indulgent, sending a shiver down your spine. “Don’t be shy,” she says, her tone dropping to something more sultry. She leans in slightly, her presence dominating the space between you. “You’ve thought about me while touching yourself, haven’t you?”

The words hit you like a slap in the face, your body going rigid as your mind scrambles to process the question. “I… uh… I…” The words tumble out incoherently, your face burning so hot it feels like it might catch fire.

Her smile widens, her satisfaction evident. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she murmurs, her tone rich with amusement and a hint of something deeper. The flicker of excitement in her expression grows, her eyes bright with the thrill of the moment. “It’s okay,” she adds softly, her voice softening slightly but still charged. “I was just curious.”

The tension in the air is palpable, the intimacy of the moment sinking deeper into your skin as her gaze holds yours unflinchingly. Irene’s lips curl into a faint smile, the kind that sends your thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. She tilts her head slightly, her eyes flicking down for the briefest moment before meeting yours again, her expression softening just enough to keep you teetering on the edge of unease and fascination.

“And have you… done this before?” she asks, her voice quieter now, almost gentle.

Your throat tightens as her question lingers in the space between you, its meaning unmistakable. “Done what?” you ask, though your voice betrays that you already suspect where this is heading.

“This,” she replies, her hand gesturing vaguely between the two of you. Her movements are fluid, deliberate, her eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that feels impossible to look away from. “Have you been with someone? Touched someone? Kissed someone?”

Your heart pounds so hard you feel it in your ears, the blood rushing to your face as the words settle over you. The room seems to shrink, her presence consuming every corner of it, making it impossible to focus on anything but her. “No,” you admit finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “I haven’t.”

Her expression shifts subtly, a flicker of intrigue passing through her eyes before something deeper—something almost predatory—takes its place. “A virgin,” she says softly, as if testing the word on her tongue, savoring its weight. “That explains so much.”

You feel your breath hitch, your chest tightening as you struggle to respond. The silence between you stretches, thick and charged, every second heavy with anticipation. She takes a step closer, her movements unhurried but purposeful, and her hand lifts, her fingers grazing your cheek with a featherlight touch.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she whispers, her voice like velvet, each word wrapping around you and sinking into your skin. Her thumb brushes gently against your cheekbone, the touch so tender it sends a shiver down your spine. “In fact, I think it’s… beautiful.”

She pauses for a moment, her gaze holding yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch. Her lips curve into a soft, almost wistful smile, and there’s a flicker of something unspoken in her expression. “This world,” she murmurs, her tone shifting, almost reflective, “it’s changed so much. People rush through things, chasing fleeting moments without ever stopping to truly feel.”

Her fingers trace a slow, deliberate path along your jawline, her touch grounding yet electrifying. “But you,” she continues, her voice dropping lower, as if she’s sharing a secret meant only for you, “you’re so… pure. So untouched. It’s refreshing, really.

Her gaze darkens, her expression unreadable yet deeply captivating, as though she’s peeling back every layer of your thoughts. “Do you trust me?” she asks softly, her voice barely more than a breath.

You hesitate for a moment, your heart hammering in your chest, but there’s a vulnerability in her question that steadies you. “Of course!...I mean… I think so,” you reply honestly, your voice shaky but sincere.

Her lips curve into a faint smile, one that feels equal parts reassuring and dangerous. “Good,” she murmurs, her voice dipping into something even softer, almost a purr. “Because I’m going to show you things you’ve only dreamed about.”

Before you can process her words, she leans in, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss so gentle it feels like it might vanish if you move too quickly. The warmth of her breath mingles with yours, her scent enveloping you, subtle but intoxicatingly her. Her hand moves to the back of your neck, her fingers threading through your hair as she deepens the kiss, her movements unhurried but deliberate, as though savoring every moment.

Your body freezes at first, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, but her other hand comes to rest lightly on your waist, her touch grounding you. Slowly, you find yourself melting under her, her warmth and presence consuming you entirely. The sound of your uneven breaths mingles with the faint rustle of fabric as she pulls you closer, her body pressing against yours with a natural ease that leaves you breathless.

Every sensation feels heightened—the softness of her lips, the faint tickle of her hair brushing against your cheek, the way her fingers grip you just tightly enough to send a thrill down your spine. Time seems to slow, the outside world dissolving until there’s nothing but the two of you, wrapped in a moment that feels both impossibly real and utterly surreal.

When she finally pulls back, her lips linger close to yours, her breath warm against your skin. Her eyes search yours, her expression a mix of satisfaction and something deeper, something unreadable. “You’re trembling,” she murmurs, her voice tinged with amusement as her fingers trail down your arm. “Are you okay?”

You nod wordlessly, your chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, the rhythm of your pounding heart almost deafening in the silence. Every nerve in your body feels heightened, attuned to her every movement. Irene’s gaze remains locked onto yours, her eyes lingering with an intensity that leaves you rooted to the spot. She seems to savor the moment, the weight of it stretching as her soft smile transforms into a knowing smirk.

Her hands move with deliberate grace, reaching for the hem of her blouse. The gentle shift of fabric brushing against her skin fills the air, and her voice, low and commanding, cuts through the silence. “Let’s take this off,” she murmurs.

Your breath catches as she slowly lifts her blouse, the smooth motion revealing more of her flawless skin. The dim light of the room casts a warm glow across her body, accentuating the curve of her waist, the soft slope of her stomach, and the graceful line of her shoulders. The air feels charged, every subtle sound—her blouse slipping away, the soft rustle as it lands on a nearby chair—heightened to a point of almost unbearable clarity.

Your eyes widen as she reaches behind her back, fingers deftly unclasping her bra. The delicate garment slides effortlessly from her shoulders, falling away like water, leaving her bare before you. Her skin is smooth, luminous in the golden light, every line and contour of her body exuding confidence and an undeniable allure. The gentle swell of her breasts, the softness of her curves, the way she holds herself with such effortless poise—it all leaves you completely spellbound.

Your chest tightens as you struggle to process the sight before you, your mind stumbling over itself in disbelief. She’s breathtaking, like a vision plucked straight from your wildest dreams, and the sheer reality of the moment sends a shiver racing down your spine. This is happening. She’s here, with you.

Irene’s eyes flick to your face, catching the way your gaze lingers on her, and her smirk deepens, a playful glint lighting up her expression. “You’re a lucky boy, aren’t you?” she teases, her voice rich with amusement and dripping with confidence.

You nod again, dumbly, your throat too dry to form a response. Her words hang in the air, teasing but undeniably true, and the way she steps closer, closing the space between you, only magnifies the sense of intimacy crackling in the room.

Her hands reach for your shirt, her fingers moving with purpose as they work their way down the buttons. Each flick of her fingers sends a jolt of electricity through you, her touch light yet deliberate, igniting your skin with every graze. “Let’s see what you’re working with,” she murmurs, her tone equal parts playful and commanding.

The fabric slides off your shoulders, falling to the floor in a whisper. Her touch lingers for a moment, her fingertips brushing against your collarbone, tracing the line of your chest, before she steps back, her gaze sweeping over you with an approving glint.

Her eyes move slowly, deliberately, taking in every detail of your bare form as though memorizing it. The weight of her attention leaves you feeling exposed but not uncomfortable—there’s something almost reverent in the way she looks at you, her expression softening just slightly as a small smile tugs at her lips.

“Not bad at all,” she murmurs, her voice low and rich with satisfaction. The words are simple, but the way she says them sends a rush of heat through you, her approval a balm to your nerves. Her gaze flicks back to yours, her smirk returning as she leans in closer, her presence overwhelming in the best possible way.

The heat between you was palpable, every breath shared and every touch igniting the tension that had been simmering between you. Irene leaned in, her lips brushing against your neck as she guided you down onto the plush couch, her movements unhurried yet deliberate. The soft cushions pressed against your back, and her warm, bare skin against yours was a sensation so overwhelming it made your thoughts scatter. Her breasts, soft and inviting, molded against your chest as she pressed closer, her body moving with a fluid confidence that left you breathless.

Her presence was intoxicating. Every shift of her weight, every brush of her smooth skin against yours, sent jolts of electricity racing through you. You felt your arousal surge uncontrollably, your body betraying you as you leaked against her thigh. The heat pooling between you was undeniable, impossible to ignore.

Irene noticed immediately, a soft laugh escaping her lips as she shifted, her thigh pressing more firmly against you. Her lips curved into a knowing smile, her gaze dipping briefly before meeting yours again, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Looks like someone’s eager,” she teased, her voice low and sultry, the sound wrapping around you like silk.

Her teasing didn’t stop there. She adjusted her hips slightly, her movement deliberate as she ground against you just enough to make you gasp. The sensation was maddening, her warmth and wetness brushing against you, heightening your sensitivity to every tiny shift and touch. You tried to steady your breath, but the way she looked at you made it impossible.

“I like seeing you like this,” she murmured, her fingers trailing lightly along your jawline. The touch was featherlight, her nails grazing your skin as she studied your face with a mix of amusement and desire. “So vulnerable. So… willing.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, but it was her next move that truly unraveled you. Irene’s lips curled into a smirk as she leaned in closer, her breath warm against your ear. “Before we go any further,” she began, her tone dropping to a low, commanding purr, “there’s something I want to hear from you.”

Her fingers tilted your chin slightly, her gaze locking onto yours with a playful intensity that made your heart race. “I want you to call me Mommy,” she said, her voice steady, laced with a confidence that left no room for hesitation.

The words hung in the air, heavy and electrifying. Your breath hitched, your mind racing as you tried to process her request. “M-Mommy?” you stammered, the word foreign on your tongue, your voice shaky as you struggled to say it.

“That’s right,” she murmured, her lips brushing against the shell of your ear as she whispered, “Call me Mommy. I want to hear it.”

Her tone was firm but coaxing, and the raw need behind her words sent shivers cascading through you. You swallowed hard, the weight of the moment pressing against you as you finally whispered, “Mommy,” barely audible.

Her reaction was immediate. A sharp intake of breath escaped her lips, her hands tightening slightly on your shoulders as her body trembled with excitement. “Again,” she demanded softly, her voice trembling with arousal, her eyes dark with anticipation.

“Mommy,” you repeated, louder this time, the word rolling off your tongue with surprising ease. It felt strange at first, but the way she responded—her thighs trembling, her lips parting slightly, the subtle arch of her back—made it feel right. Natural, even. The connection deepened, the tension between you amplifying in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

“Good boy,” Irene purred, her voice thick with satisfaction and desire. Her hips moved against you again, her wetness brushing against your length, and the sensation made you twitch with need. “You have no idea how good that makes me feel,” she continued, her tone laced with unrestrained pleasure.

Her excitement was palpable, her arousal feeding off your submission to her request. The way she ground her hips against you, her movements becoming more deliberate, made your pulse race, and the soft, breathy moans escaping her lips spurred you on.

As you shifted, positioning yourself over her, a sudden thought struck you. You hesitated, your hands trembling slightly against her hips. “I… I don’t have a condom,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of the moment made your confession feel like an interruption.

Irene’s eyes softened, her expression shifting instantly to one of reassurance. She cupped your cheek, her touch warm and firm as she pulled you down, letting your foreheads touch. “It’s okay, baby,” she whispered, her tone soothing yet steady. “Let’s just feel each other. This will be a proper first time.”

Her words washed over you, dissolving the last of your hesitation. The unwavering confidence in her voice and the tenderness in her gaze filled you with a sense of safety you hadn’t realized you needed. You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as she spread her legs wider, welcoming you in with an openness that left you breathless.

You align yourself with her entrance, your body trembling with anticipation. The moment felt impossibly real, every nerve alive with the electric charge of what was about to happen. But as you moved to press inside, you missed—the head of your length slipping against her slick folds instead. A flush of embarrassment washed over you, and you stammered, “S-sorry,” your voice shaky as you avoided her gaze.

Irene let out a soft, melodic laugh, her hand reaching for yours with a gentleness that steadied you. “It’s okay, baby,” she said softly, her voice full of patience and understanding. Guiding you with practiced ease, she adjusted your angle, her touch deliberate and sure. “Here… just like this.”

With her guidance, you slid inside her, and the sensation overwhelmed you instantly, like a tidal wave crashing over your senses. The heat was all-encompassing, a searing warmth that seemed to pull you deeper, while the wet, silken texture of her body wrapped around you, cradling you in a way that felt impossibly perfect. It was as though she had been made for you, every movement drawing you further into a connection you’d only dreamed of. Your chest tightened, and your breath caught, the sheer intensity of the moment rendering you motionless for a heartbeat.

Your mind reeled as the reality of it sank in: you were inside Irene—the woman you had admired from afar for years. The one who had occupied your thoughts, your dreams, your quiet moments of longing. And now, her warmth surrounded you, her body fitting against yours like the last piece of a puzzle you never thought you’d complete. The intimacy was overwhelming, both physically and emotionally, and it took everything in you to steady yourself, to remember to breathe.

Your eyes darted to hers, seeking reassurance, and what you found made your heart swell. Irene’s gaze met yours, her eyes soft and full of tenderness, yet smoldering with desire that sent a shiver down your spine. Her lips curved into a gentle smile, one that held no judgment, only encouragement. She raised her hands to your shoulders, her fingertips brushing lightly against your skin, grounding you in the moment as she whispered, “You’re doing well, baby.”

Her words melted into you, a quiet melody that soothed your nerves and spurred your confidence. Slowly, she shifted, her legs wrapping around your waist in an embrace that drew you closer. The slight arch of her back, the way her body trembled faintly against yours, made the connection feel deeper, richer. Her warmth seemed endless, her body adjusting to yours with a fluidity that felt almost magical.

Each subtle movement of hers—her hips pressing gently into yours, her arms tightening around your back—spoke a language you didn’t need words to understand. The sensation of her, of being completely joined with her, was unlike anything you’d ever imagined. Her skin was hot and smooth under your palms, her breathing soft yet uneven as it matched your own.

“Look at me,” she whispered, her voice soft but commanding. One of her hands cupped your cheek, her thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “I want you to see how good you’re making me feel.”

You obeyed, your gaze locking onto hers. Her expression was raw, unguarded—desire mingling with affection, her lips parting slightly as a soft moan escaped. Her cheeks glowed in the dim light, her skin luminous with warmth as her breaths came quicker, matching your own. Every moment, every movement, felt like it was drawing the two of you closer, deepening the connection in a way that left you both utterly consumed.

“You’re doing so well,” she murmured, her voice like honey, rich and soothing. Her fingers traced the curve of your jaw, her touch soft yet firm, grounding you as your body trembled with anticipation. “Just take it slow. Feel me.”

You began to move, your hips shifting tentatively at first, each thrust deliberate and cautious. Your body quaked with a mix of exhilaration and nervousness, every movement guided by the quiet encouragement in her voice. Irene’s soft moans spilled into the air like a melody, her sounds coaxing you, pulling you deeper into the moment. The way she responded to you—the arch of her back, the way her nails lightly grazed your skin—sent waves of heat through you, spurring you on.

Her eyes caught yours, and a smile tugged at her lips, equal parts reassuring and hungry. She reached up, cupping your face in her hands, and pulled you down into a deep kiss. Her lips moved against yours with a fervent intensity, her hunger unmistakable. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a connection, a melding of desire and trust that left you spiraling.

The sensations were overwhelming—the warmth of her body beneath you, the way her breath hitched each time you moved, the intoxicating taste of her kiss. Every inch of your skin seemed alive, buzzing with electricity as her soft moans blended with the sound of your labored breaths. Your hips faltered, your rhythm breaking as the buildup reached an unbearable crescendo. The heat coiling in your core surged forward, unstoppable, and with one final thrust, you erupted inside her.

The intensity of your release hit you like a tidal wave, your entire body trembling as a raw, primal energy coursed through you. It was nothing like you’d ever felt before—every nerve alight, your mind completely blank save for the sensation of her warmth enveloping you. Your legs buckled beneath you as the strength drained from your body, and you slipped slightly, unintentionally pushing deeper into her. A sharp, unsteady gasp escaped your lips as your entire body shuddered, unable to hold itself up under the sheer force of the moment.

Irene let out a soft, breathy moan as your weight pressed into her, her hands moving to steady you, her touch gentle yet firm. Her fingers trailed along your back, grounding you as your chest heaved against hers, your breaths coming in uneven bursts. The world seemed to tilt, the edges of your vision blurring as the aftershocks rippled through you, leaving you weak and trembling.

“Mommy, I–I’m sorry,” you stammered after a moment, your voice shaky with embarrassment and panic. The realization of what had just happened hit you all at once, and you struggled to lift yourself off her, though your arms felt like jelly. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Shh,” Irene interrupted gently, her fingers brushing against your lips to quiet you. Her touch was warm, reassuring, and her smile, soft and knowing, made your panic ebb slightly. Her expression glowed with a mix of affection and satisfaction, her eyes sparkling as she held your gaze. There was no judgment, only warmth and a hint of playfulness that sent a flicker of heat through your chest. “It’s okay, baby. That was bound to happen.”

Her hand moved to the back of your head, her fingers threading through your hair as she pulled you down to rest against her chest. The rise and fall of her breathing was steady, soothing, a sharp contrast to the storm of emotions swirling inside you. “It just means you couldn’t help yourself,” she whispered, her voice low and dripping with satisfaction. Her words were gentle, but there was a glimmer of something deeper in her tone—pride, even delight.

“And honestly…” Her voice dipped lower, almost a purr as her fingers lightly trailed down your spine, leaving a tingling warmth in their wake. “It makes me feel sexy knowing how much I excite you.”

Her words hung in the air, thick with an electric tension that made your heart race all over again. The confidence in her tone, the way her lips curved into a knowing smile, only magnified the pull she had on you. She shifted slightly beneath you, her body still warm and soft against yours, her every movement exuding an effortless sensuality that left you utterly captivated.

“Feeling this way,” she murmured, her nails lightly grazing your scalp as she held you close, “it’s like you’re showing me exactly how irresistible I am to you. And that… makes me want you even more.”

She leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, her fingers threading gently through your hair. “Don’t worry,” she murmured, her voice a calming balm. “We have plenty of time to work on your stamina.”

Despite her reassurance, your face burned with embarrassment as you slowly pulled out of her. The sensation left you trembling, your heart racing as your eyes fell to the sight of your release seeping from her entrance. The visual was hypnotic—raw and intimate—and it sent an unbidden twitch through your already overly sensitive length. A mix of awe and arousal coursed through you, leaving your thoughts scrambled.

Irene sat up on the couch, her movements unhurried and graceful despite the intimacy you had just shared. Her bare skin glistened faintly in the soft light, her chest rising and falling with her steady breaths. When her eyes met yours, there was no judgment—only a playful glint dancing within them. She leaned back slightly, spreading her legs just enough to hold your gaze captive.

“Don’t look so embarrassed,” she teased, her tone soft but laced with amusement. “We’ve got plenty of time to figure this out.” Her voice carried an air of authority that both comforted and electrified you as she motioned for you to kneel. “Now, come here. Let me teach you how to pleasure a woman.”

The mix of her confidence and warmth quelled some of your lingering nerves, though your hands still trembled slightly as you lowered yourself to your knees. The position felt both humbling and thrilling, your gaze flickering between her face and her glistening folds, still dripping with the evidence of your earlier climax. The scent of her arousal hung in the air, musky and intoxicating, sending another pulse of heat through your body.

She reached out, her fingers brushing against the back of your head before gently cupping it, guiding you closer with practiced ease. Her touch was tender yet firm, leaving no doubt about her control of the moment. “Don’t overthink it,” she murmured, her lips curling into a reassuring smile that sent a spark of courage through you. “Just follow my lead.”

The moment your lips met her warm, slick folds, your senses were flooded. The taste was intense and impossible to describe—earthy, musky, and utterly intoxicating. It was primal, a flavor that ignited something deep within you, rendering the nervous chatter in your mind silent. All that remained was the overwhelming need to please her, to feel her body respond to your touch.

“Good,” Irene breathed, her voice soft and laced with pleasure. “Now, use your tongue to tease me. Start with light strokes… right there.”

You followed her instructions carefully, your tongue moving tentatively at first, flicking gently against her entrance. The wet heat of her arousal coated your tongue as you explored her, drawing soft sighs of approval from her lips. Her hand remained steady on the back of your head, her fingers threading lightly through your hair as she guided your movements.

“Press a little harder,” she murmured, her hips shifting slightly against your mouth. Her voice was patient but tinged with desire, every word spurring you on. “Yes, just like that. Now move up… here.”

She pointed to her clit with one hand, her fingers brushing it lightly to show you exactly where to focus. You obeyed, your lips wrapping around the sensitive nub as your tongue began to flick against it in slow, deliberate movements. The effect was immediate—her thighs trembled slightly, and a low moan escaped her lips, rich and unrestrained.

“That’s it,” she gasped, her voice catching as her head tilted back. “Keep going. Don’t stop.”

The weight of her praise lit a fire inside you, driving your movements to become bolder and more confident. Your tongue traced circles around her clit, alternating with quick flicks that matched the rhythm of her shallow, rapid breaths. Her body responded in ways that left you in awe—her hips shifting, her thighs trembling, her breathing growing heavier with each moment.

“Use more pressure here,” she urged, her voice breaking slightly with urgency. “Yes… just like that. Now flick… mmm, perfect.”

Her moans grew louder, her hands gripping your hair—not to guide you, but to anchor herself as the sensations overwhelmed her. The tremble in her thighs intensified, her body tightening as your tongue worked her closer to the edge. Her nails pressed lightly into your scalp, her hips rocking in time with your movements as she lost herself in the rising pleasure.

The rhythm of her moans and the way her body reacted filled you with a sense of accomplishment, a primal pride that pushed you to keep going. You adjusted, moving with her as your tongue worked in unison with her rising need, tracing every sensitive spot she pointed out. Her thighs quaked against your cheeks, her voice becoming a mix of gasps and cries as you brought her closer, her pleasure radiating through every part of you.

“Don’t stop,” she gasped, her voice breathless and tinged with desperation. Her hips began to move instinctively, grinding against your mouth, her rhythm purposeful and commanding. The slick warmth of her folds pressed firmly against your lips, her arousal coating your tongue as the taste and scent of her overwhelmed your senses. Every soft cry, every tremble of her thighs, spurred you on, pushing you to match her urgency.

Her moans grew sharper, raw and unrestrained, her control slipping as her body chased its breaking point. Her hips bucked harder, grinding against you, her movements becoming erratic as you pressed your tongue harder against her clit. You flicked and sucked with everything you had, fueled not just by the pleasure radiating from her but by the sheer pride swelling in your chest. This was Irene—the idol you had adored for years—and you were the one unraveling her, the one reducing her to this trembling, vulnerable state.

Her thighs clenched around your head, her hands tangling in your hair as her moans became cries, each sound sharper and more desperate than the last. You felt the tension building in her body, every shift of her hips, every quiver of her muscles driving her closer and closer to the edge. The knowledge that you—someone so inexperienced—were capable of drawing this level of pleasure from her only deepened your determination.

“I’m so close,” she gasped, her voice breaking as her back arched off the couch. Her tone was raw, almost pleading, as she clung to the final threads of control. “Don’t stop… don’t you dare stop.”

Her words hit you like a command, and you obeyed without hesitation, moving with a purpose that mirrored her rising need. Her body tensed beneath you, her thighs trembling violently against your face as the tension inside her finally snapped. With one final, desperate grind, Irene cried out—a raw, guttural sound that filled the room. Her body arched as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her, her muscles pulsing and quivering against your mouth as her orgasm consumed her.

The moment was mesmerizing, intimate, and deeply humbling. As she came apart in your hands, you felt an immense swell of pride, the realization hitting you with staggering force: you had done this. You had brought her to this peak. The woman you’d admired for so long, this untouchable vision of perfection, was utterly undone because of you.

Her grip on your hair tightened briefly, her fingers threading through it as though to steady herself, before her hands fell away, her body collapsing back onto the couch in a state of complete surrender. You pulled back slightly, your lips and chin glistening, your own breath ragged as you took her in. Irene was a vision—her flushed cheeks, her chest rising and falling with each shallow breath, the faint sheen of sweat glistening on her skin. She was beautiful, vulnerable, and utterly yours in that moment.

As her breathing steadied, her eyes fluttered open, her gaze softening as it met yours. A satisfied smile spread across her lips, a mix of pride, affection, and something deeper flickering in her expression. She reached out, her fingers brushing tenderly against your cheek, her touch leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

“Good boy,” she murmured, her voice low and sultry, each word dripping with satisfaction. Her praise sent a fresh wave of heat rushing through your body, your heart pounding with both pride and awe. The fact that she—your idol—was praising you, calling you her “good boy,” only deepened the intimacy of the moment.

“You’re a fast learner,” she added, her tone laced with both amusement and pride. But as her smile widened, there was something else in her gaze—possessiveness, a quiet but unmistakable sense of ownership. She loved knowing that she was your first and only, the one who had drawn this effort, this passion, from you.

“You know,” she murmured, her fingers tracing your jawline as she leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping lower. “I love how no one else has ever seen you like this, felt you like this.” Her lips curved into a smirk as her fingers trailed down to your chest, lingering there as she added, “And no one else will.”

Her possessiveness was subtle but undeniable, a claim spoken through her touch, her gaze, and the way her words wrapped around you. The thought of being hers, of belonging to her in this way, sent a thrill through you that mingled with the lingering pride of having brought her so much pleasure.

As her eyes drifted downward, her smirk deepened. She noticed your arousal, now fully hardened again, throbbing with renewed energy despite the intensity of what you’d just shared. Her confidence radiated as she leaned back slightly, her movements unhurried, her body still glowing in the aftermath.

“Well,” she said, her voice teasing but filled with promise, her fingers trailing down your chest, “it seems like you’re ready for round two.” Her tone carried the same mix of pride and playful dominance that left you completely captivated, her gaze holding yours with an intensity that made your heart race all over again.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing, but the sight of Irene—her body still glowing, her skin flushed, her lips curled into a satisfied yet teasing smile—only drove your need higher. Her eyes, half-lidded but sharp, seemed to drink you in, a mixture of pride and hunger swirling within them. It was a look that sent a jolt through every part of you.

You knelt before her, determination and longing fueling your every move. “Mommy, let me try again,” you said, your voice low but trembling with nervous excitement. The smirk that spread across her lips deepened, her gaze sweeping over you in a way that made your skin tingle, as if she was already savoring what came next.

“Redemption, huh?” Irene teased, her sultry tone wrapping around you like velvet. She leaned back slightly, her hands trailing up your arms, encouraging and expectant. “Alright, baby. Show me what you’ve learned.”

Her legs parted gracefully, welcoming you in, and the heat radiating from her folds drew you closer, your arousal throbbing at the sight of her. You positioned yourself carefully, hovering above her, your hands steady on her hips as her fingers traced idle patterns along your arms. Every touch, every look she gave you felt like both a challenge and an invitation.

This time, you were resolute. With a slow, deliberate motion, you slid inside her, her tight, slick warmth enveloping you completely. A shuddering gasp escaped your lips at the sensation, the overwhelming pleasure igniting every nerve in your body. Irene’s head fell back against the cushions, her eyes fluttering shut as a soft moan slipped from her lips. Her hands gripped your shoulders, grounding herself as her body adjusted to your presence.

You began to move, your hips rolling in slow, steady thrusts, savoring every inch of her. Each motion elicited a quiet sound of approval from her, her breath hitching slightly as you set a confident rhythm. The connection between you grew with every movement, the sound of her quiet moans filling the space, spurring you on.

Then, an idea struck you—a bold impulse born of your longing to see her completely undone. Lowering your head, you brushed your lips against the curve of her breast. Irene’s eyes opened briefly, her breath catching in surprise, but she didn’t stop you. If anything, the slight arch of her back told you to keep going. Your tongue flicked over her nipple, teasing it with light strokes before pulling it gently into your mouth.

“Ah—” The sound she made was sharper than before, a soft cry that sent a thrill coursing through you. Her nails dug lightly into your shoulders, her body responding instantly to the new sensation. “Oh… good boy,” she breathed, her voice trembling with pleasure as your tongue circled her sensitive bud.

The pride in her voice ignited something deeper within you, driving your lips and tongue to lavish her other breast with equal attention. You alternated between gentle nibbles and slow, deliberate flicks of your tongue, watching as her chest rose and fell more erratically. Her reactions spurred you on, her soft gasps and low moans growing louder with every touch, every kiss.

“You’re full of surprises,” she murmured, her voice rich with approval but laced with a faint edge of possession. The way you explored her body, your eagerness and growing confidence, made her heart race. The thought that she alone had awakened this side of you, that no one else would ever know this version of you, filled her with a fierce pride that only deepened her desire.

After a few more languid thrusts, you felt yourself nearing the edge again, the tight heat of her body pulling you dangerously close. But this time, you pulled out, your resolve firm. Lowering yourself between her legs, you replaced your length with your tongue, eagerly lapping at her folds to keep her pleasure building. The slickness of her arousal coated your lips, the intoxicating taste spurring you to push past your own limits.

“Fuck…. Such a good boy,” she gasped, her fingers tangling in your hair as you worked her clit with focused precision. The way her hips bucked against your mouth, her breath catching with each flick of your tongue, filled you with a pride that matched her own. You wanted her to feel everything, to give her every ounce of yourself.

Her moans grew louder, her voice tinged with desperation as she clung to the edge. “Yes… just like that,” she panted, her body trembling as you brought her closer again. “Don’t stop, baby.”

When you felt ready once more, you rose above her, positioning yourself carefully. Irene’s legs wrapped around your waist, drawing you in as you slid back inside her. Her moan this time was deeper, her nails dragging lightly down your back as you set a steady rhythm. The wet, slick friction was overwhelming, but you were determined to match her pace, to give her everything she deserved.

As your thrusts quickened, you dipped your head again, your mouth capturing her nipple once more. The unexpected move made her gasp sharply, her back arching into you as her hips met yours in perfect rhythm. “Oh—yes,” she cried, her voice raw and unrestrained. The mix of sensations—your tongue on her breasts and your length driving into her—pushed her closer, the sounds of her pleasure creating a symphony that left you both breathless.

Her body tightened around you, her warmth and the sheer intensity of the connection sending you spiraling toward your own release. The way she moaned your name, the way her hands gripped your arms as if she couldn’t let you go, made you feel both powerful and completely hers. Every motion, every sound, every shared breath between you deepened the bond, leaving you utterly captivated by her and the moment you had created together.

“Mommy,” you murmured instinctively, the word slipping from your lips as if it were the only thing anchoring you to reality. Her name carried the weight of your longing, your admiration, and the raw intensity of the moment. The sound of it filled the air between you, intimate and charged.

The effect on her was immediate. Her eyes snapped open, locking onto yours with a look of wild hunger that sent a shiver down your spine. Her lips parted slightly, a soft gasp escaping as her body responded to the sound of her name. “Say it again,” she demanded, her voice trembling with need, thick with desire.

“Mommy,” you repeated, your voice rough and fervent, the syllables tumbling out with an urgency that mirrored the heat building between you. “You feel so good.”

Her reaction was electric. Her back arched off the couch, her nails digging into your shoulders hard enough to leave faint crescents in your skin. The way her body clenched around you, pulling you deeper with every thrust, made your pulse pound in your ears. Her moans became louder, more urgent, the sound of her pleasure igniting something primal in you.

The way she responded to you—her gasps, the tremor in her thighs, the flush spreading down her chest—filled you with an overwhelming sense of pride. You could see it in her face, the way she lost herself in you, and it made your heart race with the knowledge that you were the one drawing this from her. You moved faster, the rhythm of your hips frantic now, your control slipping as the tension coiled tighter inside you both.

“Mommy, I’m close” you groaned again, the title spilling from your lips like a prayer. Each time you said it, her reaction grew more visceral, her body tightening around you, her cries reaching new heights.

“Don’t stop,” she gasped, her hands cupping your face as she pulled you down into a kiss that left you breathless. Her lips moved against yours with desperate hunger, the connection between you electric. Her taste, her scent, the warmth of her skin—all of it consumed you entirely, blurring the edges of the world around you.

“I’m so close,” she whispered against your lips, her voice trembling with vulnerability and urgency. Her body trembled beneath you, her hips meeting yours with unrestrained fervor.

“Me too,” you panted, your forehead pressing against hers as your thrusts grew erratic, the tension in your core threatening to snap. The sound of her voice, the way her body clung to yours—it was overwhelming, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Her release came first, a sharp cry of ecstasy tearing from her lips as her body convulsed around you. The sound was raw, unrestrained, and it echoed in your ears, sending a jolt of electricity straight through you. The way her inner walls clenched and pulsed rhythmically around your length was unlike anything you had ever experienced—an intoxicating mix of heat and pressure that made it impossible to hold back. Her thighs trembled violently, tightening around your waist as though she were anchoring herself to you in the overwhelming storm of her pleasure.

Her back arched sharply, her chest pressing against yours as wave after wave of ecstasy wracked her body. You could feel every shudder, every tremble, her body’s response drawing you deeper into the moment. Her hands gripped at your shoulders, her nails biting into your skin as though she couldn’t contain the sheer force of it. Each convulsion, each flutter of her body around you, only intensified the sensations coursing through you, pulling you closer to the edge.

“That’s it,” she purred, her voice a sultry whisper as she let her body sink deeper into the couch. “Fill mommy up. You’ve been so good for me.”

The sight of her—her head tilted back, her lips parted as breathless moans spilled from her, her skin flushed and glowing in the dim light—was enough to send you spiraling. You felt your own release building, coiling tighter and tighter until there was no holding back.

Your release surged through you, your body shaking as you spilled into her, the waves of pleasure crashing over you both in perfect unison. The shared intensity was overwhelming, each of you amplifying the other’s climax in a way that made it feel infinite, boundless. Your hips moved instinctively, prolonging the moment, the friction and heat drawing out every last shudder of ecstasy.

Her arms wrapped around you as you collapsed against her, your bodies slick with sweat and trembling in the aftermath. The soft rise and fall of her chest beneath you, the gentle rhythm of her breathing mingling with yours, created a cocoon of warmth and intimacy. Irene’s fingers traced lazy, soothing patterns across your back, grounding you as your heart began to slow. The scent of your combined musk lingered in the air, adding to the intimacy of the moment.

“Pretty good for your first time,” she murmured softly, her voice tinged with satisfaction and a lingering huskiness. There was pride in her tone, but also something deeper—an affection that made your chest tighten. Her hands slid into your hair, cradling your head against her as she pressed a tender kiss to your temple.

You shifted slightly, lifting your head just enough to meet her gaze. Her eyes sparkled with serene contentment, her expression relaxed but teasing as her fingers brushed through your damp hair. “So,” she murmured, her voice warm and playful, “how does it feel to finally cross that line?”

Your cheeks flushed, but the words came easily, carried by the warmth of the moment. “It’s… indescribable,” you admitted, your voice soft but earnest. “Because it was with you. Never in a million years did I think this would happen.”

Unable to resist, you leaned forward, pressing a lingering kiss to her shoulder, your lips savoring the softness of her skin. The quiet intimacy of the moment wrapped around you like a protective shield, the glow of your shared connection filling the room with a warmth you never wanted to fade. Her hand found its way to the back of your neck, her fingers lightly stroking your skin as she held you close.

As the intensity of the moment began to ebb, you collapsed fully against her, your chest pressing against hers as her arms wrapped protectively around you. Her fingertips brushed tenderly through your hair, each motion laced with affection. “Good boy,” she murmured, her voice soft and full of praise. “You made mommy feel so good… I’m proud of you.”

Her words sent a fresh wave of warmth through you, the sincerity in her tone soothing any lingering nerves. You remained pressed against her, your bodies entwined in the afterglow of your shared release. Her soft breaths ghosted against your ear, each exhale a tender reminder of the closeness you had just shared. Slowly, her hands began to move again, tracing gentle, soothing strokes along your back. Her touch was light but steady, radiating a quiet affection that anchored you to the moment.

The high of your climax still lingered in the air as your breathing slowed and synced with hers. Irene’s arms remained securely wrapped around you, her fingers drawing delicate patterns along your spine. The warmth of her skin against yours, the steady rhythm of her breathing, and the faint hum of satisfaction in her chest created a cocoon of intimacy that made the rest of the world feel far away.

After a long pause, her voice broke the silence, quiet but firm. “I don’t want this to be a one-time thing,” she said suddenly, her fingers stilling as she lifted your face to meet her gaze. Her expression was calm but serious, her eyes searching yours as though seeking a promise. “I mean it. I’m not letting you go after tonight.”

Her words sent a jolt through you, and your chest tightened as you processed the weight of what she was saying. “Me too,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I want to stay with you.”

Her lips curved into a soft smile, her eyes shimmering with a mix of relief and affection. “Good boy,” she murmured, her tone gentle but laced with pride. “Let’s go to my place, then. I want you there. With me.”

Her words sent a surge of excitement through you, a mix of nerves and disbelief swirling in your chest. Irene’s house—her personal space, her sanctuary—it was something you’d only ever dreamed of seeing. But the warmth in her eyes and the soft, grounding pressure of her hand on yours erased any hesitation.

She helped you dress, her movements unhurried and deliberate, her quiet confidence calming your racing thoughts. Once ready, the two of you stepped out into the cool night air. The hum of lingering fans still filled the space outside, their energy a sharp contrast to the quiet intimacy you’d just shared. Irene tugged a cap low over her face and adjusted her mask to obscure her features, her elegant jawline and sharp eyes barely visible beneath her disguise. But even with her face half-hidden, her presence was unmistakable to you.

The crowd wasn’t massive, but it was enough to make your chest tighten with worry. What if someone spotted her? The thought made your pulse quicken, and you instinctively glanced over at her. She caught your gaze, her eyes softening as she squeezed your hand lightly. “It’s fine,” she murmured, her voice calm but encouraging. “Just stay close to me.”

You nodded, but the nervousness lingered, your mind racing with the thought of her being recognized. Then, without really thinking, you tightened your grip on her hand, an idea sparking in your chest. “This way!” you whispered, breaking into a grin as you gently pulled her along a quieter path.

She blinked, momentarily surprised, before a soft laugh escaped her lips. Irene allowed herself to be led, her steps quickening to match your pace. You darted through the dimly lit side alleys, ducking past clusters of fans and steering her confidently through the maze of the venue’s surroundings. Every so often, you glanced back at her to make sure she was keeping up, your boyish energy bubbling over in a way you couldn’t suppress.

She didn’t say much, but the amused twinkle in her eyes was impossible to miss. The spontaneity of your actions, the way you move with purpose yet couldn’t hide your youthful excitement—it caught her off guard in the best way. She hadn’t expected this side of you, and it made her chest tighten with an unfamiliar warmth. Her lips curved into a soft smile as she let you take charge, the simple joy radiating from you pulling her in further.

“You’re really into this, huh?” she finally said, her tone light but carrying a teasing affection.

You glanced back, your grin sheepish but bright. “Just trying to keep you out of the spotlight,” you replied earnestly, your voice slightly breathless from the adrenaline of it all.

Irene shook her head, her smile deepening. “You’re cute,” she murmured, her voice almost to herself. The way you darted through the shadows, focused yet visibly buzzing with excitement, made her want to laugh—but not in mockery. There was something so genuine about your energy, so pure, that she found herself falling for it without even realizing.

When the two of you finally reached her car, you opened the door for her with an almost comical nervousness, as though you were escorting royalty. She chuckled softly as she slid into the driver’s seat, watching you fumble slightly with your seatbelt before settling in beside her. The sleek interior of her car was exactly what you’d imagined—elegant, understated, and carrying the faint scent of her perfume. You tried to stay composed, but the reality of being in Irene’s car hit you all at once.

“This is amazing,” you muttered, your voice half in awe. “I mean… your car. I can’t believe I’m here.”

Her eyes flicked to you, amusement tugging at her lips. “It’s just a car, baby,” she teased, though there was a warmth in her tone that made your cheeks flush.

“Yeah, but it’s your car,” you replied, barely able to contain yourself. You glanced out the window as the city lights blurred into streaks of color, your thoughts spinning as you tried to process everything. “I never thought I’d—this is just… insane.”

Irene smiled quietly, shaking her head as she returned her focus to the road. “Relax,” she said, her voice gentle but teasing. “We’re almost home.”

The journey passed in a surreal haze for you, but for Irene, it was something else entirely. She kept stealing glances at you out of the corner of her eye, watching the way your awe slowly slipped out in small, unguarded bursts. The way you ran your fingers lightly over the seat belt strap as if to confirm it was real, the way you gazed out the window with wide eyes, taking in every detail like you were living a dream—it all tugged at something deep inside her. She didn’t say much, but her heart softened with every moment, the quiet joy you radiated making her smile more than she realized.

When the car finally pulled into her driveway, your breath hitched. Her house was grand yet understated, its sleek lines illuminated by the soft glow of the outdoor lights. The manicured garden added a touch of warmth, the entire scene exuding Irene’s elegance. You barely managed to follow her inside, your steps faltering as you took in your surroundings.

Inside, the awe only deepened. Photos of Irene adorned the walls, each one more striking than the last. You paused in front of one—a candid shot of her backstage, her face lit up with laughter—and your chest tightened. Her house felt so unmistakably her, a blend of sophistication and comfort that made every corner feel like an extension of her personality.

“This is…” you began, your voice trailing off as you struggled to find the right words.

“Overwhelming?” she teased, her tone light as she watched your reaction.

You nodded, laughing nervously. “Yeah. It’s just so… you.”

Her smile softened, and she stepped closer, her hand brushing lightly against yours. “You’re so cute,” she said quietly, her voice carrying a hint of pride. Her eyes lingered on you for a moment before she tilted her head toward the hallway. “Come on, baby. Let’s get comfortable.”

She led you to her bedroom, and your breath caught as the door opened. The space was stunning, every detail carefully curated to reflect Irene’s elegance and warmth. The soft glow of ambient lighting bathed the room in a golden hue, highlighting the muted tones of the walls and the understated luxury of her furniture. Her bed, draped in soft, inviting fabrics that looked as though they’d been handpicked for comfort and sophistication, seemed impossibly large and welcoming. The faint scent of citrus lingered in the air, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Each step closer made the nervous excitement bubbling inside you intensify.

Irene guided you gently toward the bed, her touch firm yet tender as her fingers brushed against yours. There was something unspoken in her movements—a quiet confidence that reassured you as she tugged you closer. “Come here,” she murmured, her voice soft and steady, laced with an affection that sent warmth flooding through your chest.

She perched on the edge of the bed, her movements fluid and deliberate, and pulled you down beside her. Her arms wrapped around you easily, holding you close. Her hand found its way to your hair, her fingers threading through it as she began stroking gently, the repetitive motion grounding you. “Relax, baby,” she whispered, her voice low and soothing. “You’re home now.”

You leaned into her touch, the weight of her arm around your shoulders anchoring you. The warmth of her body, the steady rhythm of her breathing—it all felt so calming, so intimate. Then she shifted slightly, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze.

“You trust me, don’t you?” she asked softly, her eyes searching yours.

You nodded, the sincerity in her tone and the softness of her expression easing the nervous flutter in your chest.

“Good.” Her lips curved into a faint smile as she stood, her movements graceful and unhurried. She reached for the hem of her blouse and, without breaking eye contact, pulled it over her head in one fluid motion. The sight of her bare skin left you breathless. Even though you’d just shared the most intimate of moments with her, the sheer beauty of her still made your pulse race.

Irene’s fingers moved deftly, unhooking her bra and letting it fall to the floor. Her chest was fully exposed now, her skin glowing softly in the warm light of the room. Your eyes couldn’t help but linger, drinking in every detail as though it were the first time. She noticed your gaze and let out a soft, amused laugh, her lips quirking into a playful smile.

“Still staring?” she teased gently, her voice carrying a note of affection that sent warmth rushing through you. “You’ve already seen everything, baby.”

“I… I can’t help it,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “You’re just…”

“Perfect?” she finished for you, her smile widening slightly as she stepped closer. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.” Her tone was playful but tinged with a quiet pride.

She reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. “Your turn,” she said, her voice soft but insistent. “Strip for me”

Your hands trembled slightly as you obeyed, pulling off your shirt and kicking off your shoes before working on your pants. The nervous excitement from earlier had returned in full force, your heart pounding as you stood before her in nothing but your boxers. She watched you with an intensity that made your skin tingle, her gaze unrelenting yet warm.

“Good boy,” she murmured, her voice low and satisfied as she took your hand and guided you closer. “Now, come to bed.”

The invitation in her voice made your chest tighten, and you followed her lead, climbing onto the plush mattress as she settled beside you. The softness of the bed cradled you, and Irene’s warmth as she pulled you into her embrace was both soothing and electrifying. Her hands found their way to your hair again, her touch gentle but deliberate as she stroked slowly.

“Let mommy take care of you,” she murmured, tilting your face toward her chest. Her fingers brushed your jaw, her touch tender but insistent. “Suckle.”

The word hung in the air, intimate and commanding, and your heart thudded in your chest as her gaze met yours. There was no hesitation in her eyes, only a quiet reassurance that melted away your nerves. Slowly, you pressed your lips against her, your mouth opening as your tongue brushed against the softness of her skin. The warmth of her breast was overwhelming, its tenderness enveloping you completely as you latched instinctively.

“That’s it,” she cooed, her voice soft and melodic, a lullaby just for you. Her hand returned to your hair, her fingers stroking through it in a gentle rhythm that matched her breathing. “Good boy. Just relax now.”

As you began to suckle, a wave of calm washed over you. Each slow, deliberate pull of your mouth deepened the connection between you, the act soothing you in a way you hadn’t anticipated. Her skin was warm and impossibly soft against your lips, the faint mixture of her musk and the lingering traces of her perfume filling your senses with every breath. The world outside dissolved, replaced by the steady rise and fall of her chest, her heartbeat thrumming softly in your ear, and the gentle hum of satisfaction vibrating in her throat.

Irene’s fingers continued their rhythmic strokes through your hair, her touch grounding you in the moment. Each sweep of her fingertips sent a tingling warmth through your scalp, a sensation that soothed the last vestiges of nervous energy. You let out a soft, involuntary sigh, your body sinking further into her embrace. Your limbs grew heavy with relaxation, your breathing naturally syncing with hers as you nestled closer.

For Irene, the moment was nothing short of exquisite. Every gentle pull of your mouth sent a ripple of warmth through her chest, a soft but insistent tug at something deeper within her. The sight of you, vulnerable and utterly trusting in her arms, filled her with a heady mix of pride and satisfaction. Your quiet dependence, the way your head rested against her so naturally, ignited an indescribable sense of fulfillment.

Her breath hitched slightly, the intimacy of the act stirring an unfamiliar but welcome heat in her core. Her nipples, already sensitive, responded to the gentle pressure of your mouth, the warm pull sending shivers of pleasure down her spine. She tilted her head back slightly, her lips parting as a soft, almost inaudible sigh escaped her. The mixture of the physical sensations and the emotional connection was unlike anything she’d ever experienced.

“You’re mine,” she whispered, her voice low and possessive, the words brushing against the top of your head like a promise. Her lips pressed a lingering kiss to your hair, the act both tender and claiming. “No one else will ever have this.”

The conviction in her voice wrapped around you, comforting and commanding all at once. Your movements slowed, the gentle rhythm of your suckling growing lazier as the soothing comfort of her embrace lulled you further into a haze of peace and safety. Her hand, still stroking your hair, pressed with just enough firmness to make you feel securely tethered to her.

Irene closed her eyes for a moment, letting the sensations wash over her. The warmth of your body against hers, the subtle vibrations of your breathing, and the soft sounds you made created a cocoon of intimacy she didn’t want to end. Her fingers moved from your hair to trace the curve of your cheek, her touch light and lingering, as if she couldn’t resist savoring the moment.

“Sleep, baby,” she murmured, her voice soft but steady, thick with affection. “You’re safe here… with me.”

The words settled over you like a blanket, and with them came an overwhelming sense of peace. The glow of the room, the steady hum of her voice, and the enveloping warmth of her body surrounded you completely. Each pull of your mouth became slower, more relaxed, as the last remnants of tension melted away.

For Irene, the sight of you—so content, so utterly hers—stirred something deep within her. The possessiveness she felt was matched by an aching tenderness, the realization that you had given her something so precious and irreplaceable. She cradled you closer, her hand resting protectively on your back as her lips brushed another gentle kiss to your forehead.

As your breathing evened out and sleep claimed you, Irene watched you with quiet reverence. The weight of your trust, your vulnerability, filled her with a sense of purpose she hadn’t known she needed. Together, wrapped in the glow of the moment, she knew this wasn’t fleeting. It was the start of something profound, something she would hold onto with everything she had.

[defmaybe]

last night's mascara

12 Days of Christmas: Day 11, January 4th, 2025

Dreamcatcher’s Lee Gahyun x Male Reader

3.1k words

Christmas Masterlist

What a boring ass party.

It’s the thought that has been lingering inside your head for the last two hours. The decorations? Daft. The song choice? Lame. The conversations? Rote. So, there you are, one hand on your phone, the other fiddling with your fingers restlessly. Should’ve bought Balatro when it was on sale.

You scroll your Twitter feed aimlessly, pressing likes on the fan sites’ pictures of your favorite groups—fromis_9, Red Velvet, (G)I-DLE. It’s the only way to escape this party without raising much suspicion.

Well, not until Gahyun notices you standing in the corner of your eyes.

“Not enjoying it?”

You almost drop your phone on the ground, good thing you can balance it with your hands.

“Shit, y–yeah,” you reply.

Gahyun giggles softly, covering her mouth with the glass of champagne in her hand. She’s in her red and white Christmas dress, one that shows off a lot—her shoulders, her legs, her ample cleavage. Fuck, she looks so tantalizing.

“So,” she says. She’s pulling you into a conversation. Abort. Abort. Abort!

“How was your day?” she asks, “Wait, oh my god, that was a terrible question. I’m sorry if it’s too plain for you.”

It’s over for you.

“No, no, it was–great. I’m fine,” you reply. “How are you?”

Gahyun chuckles. “A bit drunk, but still standing!” she says with a bright smile, twisting her foot coyly. God, she looks gorgeous.

You only shoot a smile back at her. You don’t know what more to say. It’s difficult for you to continue the conversation like this. You can’t do this.

“Hey,” she continues. You’re finished. “I can keep you company here if you want.”

She’s kind, but you’ll have to say no. You aren’t good enough to hold her right here. You don’t have anything to talk about!

“Ah, I–I appreciate that, but I don’t think you’d enjoy my company,” you decline, taking a sip of the champagne in your hand.

She giggles, and you fall victim to your own self-deprecation once again. You just can’t stop pushing people out, can you?

Fuck.

“Don’t be so harsh on yourself, come on!” she encourages. You’re taken aback by her enthusiasm to be with you. Is she really enjoying your company? Is it a dare? Is she just toying with you for her own entertainment?

“O–Okay, Gahyun,” you stammer.

The conversation begins at the expense of your solitude. It’s seemingly unending. You’re involuntarily dragged into an exchange with the talkative Lee Gahyun. However, you’re slowly dragged into her charismatic presence. You’re somehow not stuttering anymore? Goodness gracious! She’s a good talker. She’s a good listener. She’s genuinely comforting to be around.

“So–speaking of music, have you been listening to anyone recently? Well, outside of k-pop, it’ll be too boring,” Gahyun asks.

You contemplate a bit before you answer, “Well, I’ve been listening to Gracie Abrams a lot lately. Do you know her?”

“Gracie Abrams–hmm–is she the one who opened for Taylor Swift?”

“Yeah!” you happily answer. She’s really full of knowledge. “I started listening to her a few years ago. Quality can be choppy sometimes, but I still like her a lot.”

“I’m sure she’s great,” she says with a giggle. “That’s why you’re drawn to her.”

You can only chuckle at her warm words. God, she really knows how to reel you in. 

“What about you? Who have you been listening to?” you ask her the same question back. Normally, you’d be beating yourself up for not changing the question, but with Gahyun, it feels like you don’t have to worry about anything.

Gahyun laughs, cutely covering her mouth while doing so. “Well, mostly Billie Eilish, her new album. Have you heard it yet?”

“Oh, yeah! I love Birds of a Feather a lot. Wait, let me guess yours–uh–” you pause, trying to guess her favorite from the album.

Gahyun adoringly smiles, waiting for your guess. Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s the light, but, fuck, are you having a crush on her?

“Chihiro?”

“Aww~ that’s close! It’s actually my second favorite,” Gahyun says, pouting cutely. You can only awkwardly giggle along to cover the embarrassment from the mistake.

“I actually love Lunch the most, to be honest,” she says. “Makes me click my heels, you know?”

“Oh, yeah. I mean–I also like Lunch, but–uh–it’s just not as sad as Birds of a Feather.”

“Oh. Oh! Well, that’s definitely interesting!” Gahyun says. “So, you like sad songs? Do you like–uh–have any to recommend to me?”

You give her a few songs. She nods in acknowledgement. The exchange continues into the night. It flows so lively that you get lost in her charm, over and over again. You find out about her dog at home—Bae. You find out that she loves pineapples on pizzas. You find out that her favorite TV show is Goblin (yes, that Goblin).

As it goes on, you can’t help but steal glances at her body, even if you know how inappropriate that is. You’ll use the opportunity when she looks away to take in the view of her ample cleavage or her meaty thighs. She looks so good, so deli–

“Hey,” she derails your train of thoughts. “Did you just–stare at my tits?”

Your eyes widen in shock. You didn’t realize that you’ve been looking at her for a little too long. Your hands tremble in fear of getting called out. You should say sorry, now!

“F–Fuck, I–I’m so s–sorry, Gah–”

“Zip it,” she cuts you off, putting her index finger on your lips. “I don’t want excuses.”

Tears start to form in your eyes. You’re being mentally cornered by Lee Gahyun, the company darling. God, you’re beyond fucked. Your whole life is being undone because of a slip. Fuck.

Then, she whispers into your ear.

“Meet me at the women’s bathroom in five minutes.”

You nod with your eyes closed slowly, before she departs from you, giving you the view of her hips swaying before disappearing into the crowd.

—

The women’s bathroom smells of air purifier, it’s taken care of well. It’s brightly lit. You find Gahyun standing in the middle of the room—arms crossed, tapping her foot. She’s waiting for you.

“Come here, lock the door,” she orders, gesturing you to her. Her voice is much, much more stern than in the ballroom, but there’s also–something else. Is she mad at you, or is it something else?

The door clicks shut, leaving the bathroom only for you two. You slowly walk towards Gahyun, who’s looking at you expectantly.

The air thickens with anticipation. The silence is heavy. You’re stuck in the bathroom with Lee Gahyun. She doesn’t seem too pleased with your presence here, but why would she be calling you here, then?

“So,” she starts. You close your eyes shut in fear. “Anything to say before we start?”

You shake your head vigorously, hoping that the admission would lessen the punishment directed at you.

You hear a wicked laugh, as she starts to circle around you. Your body trembles in fear. Fuck, what is she going to do with you. Is she going to beat you up? Is she going to berate you?

“Are you sure that you’ve locked the door?” she asks from behind you. You can feel her breath on your neck. It’s terrifying.

“Y–Yes, Gahyun,” you stammer out.

“Good. Now, take off your pants,” she orders sternly. Wait, this isn’t going where you’ve expected.

“Wait, do you want me to–”

“Take off your pants, yes,” she finishes your sentence without any hesitation. Determination shines in her eyes.

“O–Okay?” you utter, before reluctantly unbuckling your belt. It’s so hard to come off when your hands are literally shaking like this. Your breathing becomes erratic with each second that passes by.

“Faster,” she sternly commands into your ear. Her warm breath touches your skin, eliciting goosebumps everywhere. Your hands quickly take off your trousers as she orders, leaving your lower body in your boxers. The outline of your erection becomes visible under them.

“Good,” she says, the warmth of your hand emanating into your firm ass. “Now, if you’d show me what you’ve been hiding under this–garment.

You immediately comply with her order, sliding down your tight boxers in a hasty motion. Your hard cock springs free from its confinement. It twitches in the anticipation of what’s to come. Gahyun presses into your body from the back, making your ass touch her warm crotch. Her perfume pervades your nostrils, making your legs wobble like jelly.

“Hmm, excited, aren’t we?” she coos. Her right hand reaches from the back to tease you. She leaves just a little space between her hand and your cock. You wish you could just grab her hand and make her touch your hardness right now, but that’s not how you play this game. You can only wonder how Gahyun can hide this side for so long—the side that dominates the shit out of you.

“Do you want me to touch it? Say it.” Her hot breath brushes against your ear, teasing you, pushing you towards the limit.

“Y–Yes, I want you to touch it, Gahyun,” you utter, mind going all haywire from the sheer intensity of her body warmth against your back.

You hear Gahyun giggle mischievously from the back, before her hand latches onto your cock firmly, making you groan in sheer ecstasy.

Slowly, she begins her dirty display on your cock. She lazily drags her hand up along your length, eliciting a shudder from you. When she’s at the top, she makes sure to take a swipe on the tip to make you moan. Your brain is now filled with nothing but her otherworldly handjob she’s giving. She feels so good.

You moan and whimper in her tight restraint, naked from below the waist. Her hands are slowly jerking you off with an unmatched mastery. Her smell is intense—her perfume, and something that’s explicitly her.

She slowly finds her rhythm, knowing when to pump, knowing when to swipe. She goes faster, eliciting guttural groans and whimpers out of you. 

Your cock is being fondled by the company darling, and that thought alone sends you into rapture. She’s the same woman you see every day. She’s the same woman you’ve talked to. She’s the same woman who everyone loves. Now, she’s jerking you off in the women’s bathroom, making you moan and whimper.

Maybe it’s the sheer intensity of the situation, you can feel your loins tightening. Your body becomes rigid. Your breathing becomes erratic. You’re going to cum in Lee Gahyun’s hand!

“You know, I’ve been told a lot that I have nice lips,” she says. Her hands remain a little too eager to finish you off. It’s becoming too irresistible to cum right now. You can feel the tension rising within your loins. You do want more than her hand, indeed. That pair of lips are a little too tantalizing for you to not be on your cock—so plump, so pouty.

“F–Fuck, Gahyun, I–I’m gonna cum,” you utter. Time is running low, and you have to make her stop before you blow a load all over the bathroom floor and get short-circuited for the rest of the night.

Gahyun lets out another wicked giggle. “Say please, then.” She’s not going to stop so easily, not before you profusely beg her to.

“Nghhn~ p–please, Gahyun,” you plead, voice already shaking in the intense sensation.

“Again, and I’ll lift my hand off,” she teases, jerking you off even faster. Your mind is all hazy from the sheer pleasure you’re getting from her hand. Your blinking becomes rapid. Your vision becomes blurry.

“Nghh~ please, G–Gahyun.”

Gahyun suddenly removes her hand from your cock, leaving it twitching in the air. You sigh, as the tension slowly drops back to normal. You’re happy not to cum before you get to take on her mouth.

“Close one,” she says, letting go of you from her warm embrace. You feel like you can fully breathe for the first time in years. She was suffocating, but you won’t deny the pleasure she gave you, of course.

Gahyun slowly walks back to your front, putting the highlight of her next act for you to see—her lips, those dick-sucking lips. You and the guys have talked about this behind her back (well, behind everyone’s back) about how good her lips would feel on your cocks, head bobbing up and down in a hypnotic motion, bringing intense pleasure to whoever gets their dick sucked. 

Now, it’s your turn.

Gahyun kneels, not without seductively swaying her wide hips as she goes down. Your cock twitches at the sight violently, so ready to be taken into her mouth.

“Say please, just like when I jerked you off,” she commands. She seems to know when to raise her voice and when to not.

“Please, Gahyun,” you utter, your voice all dry from the moaning and the internally burning desire.

The first contact is nothing short of divine. Gahyun starts slow. She starts by taking in just the mushroom tip into her mouth. She feels so warm, so tight, so right. Gahyun gives the underside of your cock a playful lick, making your body jolt in response.

She then begins her show, pushing herself further on your cock. It’s a lewd sight, really—the direct eye contact, the sound she’s making (it’s kind of a low, satisfied hum), the way she fondles your balls with her fingers. Pleasure just shoots through your body like a bullet. Without any restraints, you could just cum into her mouth right here and now. She pushes further and further, making you groan in pure bliss, until she starts to gag.

“Y–You don’t have to take it all, G–Gahyun.”

She says nothing, instead diving deeper onto your cock, all while using her tongue to play with the underside of your length. No woman has ever given you a blowjob as good as this—the deliberate movement, the will to gag, the pouty lips. Gahyun really has it all.

She keeps the eye contact intact, a reminder of her control. The gagging sounds she’s making don’t hinder her dominance by a little bit. She lets you know who’s in control here. It’s her and only her.

She finally pushes herself up to the hilt of your cock. She gags. She chokes. She sputters. Globs of spit leaks out of her mouth. Your head falls backwards from the pleasure. Her eyes are barely opening from the sheer size of your cock. You love this. You love the sounds she’s making. You love how she dominates the shit out of you. You love that she’s willing to suck you off like this (even if she’s the one in full control).

She stays there, gagging, choking, sputtering on your cock. She’s taking in the pungent scent of you, judging by the way she takes a deep breath through her nose. Her lips look so good on your cock like this. The base of your length becomes saturated by her red lipstick and spit. Streaks of black mascara run down her cheeks. You’re revelling in it. You’re revelling in the sight.

“G–God, G–Gahyun,” you utter.

With that, she slowly pulls back from your cock, leaving a trail of her rosy lipstick on it. Her eyes are fluttering violently with the thickness and length of you. She can barely breathe, and you’re loving it.

Instinctively, your right hand goes to the back of her head, tugging her hair to pull her out of the predicament called your cock. She gets to breathe again, and she quickly dislodges herself off you.

“Ah, y–you taste good,” she says, still trying to catch her breath. The marks from the earlier act are evident.

You say nothing, letting Gahyun catch her breath again, waiting for the time she can take in your cock once more. She breathes in, she breathes out, and finally, she’s ready again.

“I’m not holding back this time, alright?” she says, determination sparks inside her eyes.

“S–Sure.”

She grabs onto your cock with her right hand, pulling you close, before she takes your cock into her mouth. This time, it’s more violent, more fervent. She catches her rhythm and doesn’t look back. She starts to bob her head back and forth on your cock, and doesn’t that make you whimper like a bitch?

“Nghhh~ s–so good,” you mewl.

Gahyun only replies with a giggle on your cock. Her grip is still firm. Her free hand fondles your balls gently, trying to coax cum out of you.

She catches her rhythm, moving her head in a hypnotic motion. She really wants you to cum under her influence like this. You hear her gag. You hear her choke. You hear her sputter.

The tension in your loins starts to rise again. You’re on the verge of cumming with the help of the earlier handjob, and she doesn’t seem to stop at all. That’s it. You’re unloading your cum inside of Lee Gahyun’s mouth, making her taste your white essence.

“G–Gonna cum,” you utter.

Gahyun responds by going as rapidly as she can on your throbbing cock. The sensation is electric. It shoots through you like a bullet. The knot tightens, and you can do nothing to stop it.

With the final stroke, you unload your pent-up lust into Lee Gahyun’s throat, making her taste your essence. Your body jerks forward in pure pleasure. You let out a low, guttural groan at your precipice, unable to make sense of the situation. She lets out a satisfied hum as she feels your white, hot cum hit the back of her throat. You’re probably salty, like the other women have said.

You slowly come down from your peak, finally catching your rhythm again. Your cock’s spurts turn into soft drizzles off the slit. Gahyun pulls off of your cock with a loud pop. What an obscene sight. Her face is a fucking mess—mascara, lipstick, it’s all wrong. You’re still too dazed to say a thing, though.

“You taste good,” she says, opening her mouth, sticking her tongue out lewdly to show the emptiness of her wet cavern. She drank it all.

“I–I wanna do this again,” you involuntarily utter from the depths of your heart. “I want you to suck my cock again.”

Maybe it’s the sheer absurdity of your words. Maybe it’s the wake of your climax. She bursts out a laugh, a genuine one. You watch her laugh awkwardly.

“Ask me–ha–properly,” she says. “Will you, Lee Gahyun–”

“Will you, Lee Gahyun–”

“Suck–”

“Suck my cock again?”

She lets out a chuckle, before answering, “Definitely, maybe.”

—

[d-z20]

Hers and Hers Alone

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Summary: Agatha Harkness’s possessive nature burns brighter than ever when she claims you, not just with her words but with her magic. In the charged intimacy of her study, the line between dominance and devotion blurs, leaving no doubt that you belong entirely to her.

-OR-

She marks you with a magic tattoo cause you're oblivious to people flirting with you

Warnings: Possessive Agatha, reader is an idiot when it comes to flirting, magical marking, jealousy/obsession, claiming trope, slight angst, kind of dark romance is implied (at least their relationship is in my head), some dom/sub dynamics, reader gets called a good girl

Words: 1.9k

A/N: FuckMarvelEveryoneLives AU :P I errrr had carried this fic into the smut but then realised the request didn't ask for it so I guess what happened will just stay in my head :))

AO3 | Masterlist

Agatha Harkness always gets what she wants.

That’s the first thing you learnt when you fell into her orbit—her sharp eyes, her wicked smirk, the way her presence alone felt like it could strip you bare. It wasn’t just her power that made her dangerous; it was her confidence, the knowledge that she could claim you with nothing more than a look. And claim you, she did.

Tonight, that claim becomes permanent.

It starts earlier in the evening, though you’re far too oblivious to notice. Another witch—a newcomer to your coven—has been lingering a little too close, her compliments flowing like honey, her hand brushing yours just a bit too often. You think nothing of it, laughing at her jokes and responding with your usual warmth, but Agatha sees it all. She sits across the room, her wine glass in hand, her gaze locked on you with an intensity that sends lesser witches scattering. It’s subtle at first—the narrowing of her eyes, the slight tilt of her head—but as the other witch leans in and tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, Agatha’s smile falters, replaced by something far sharper.

Jen sidles up beside her, an amused glint in her eye as she tracks Agatha’s gaze. “You’re going to set the room on fire if you keep glaring like that,” she says dryly.

“Perhaps,” Agatha mutters, her tone deceptively smooth. “But how could anyone blame me?" Her gaze flicks briefly to Jen before settling back on you.

Jen’s laughter is soft, a knowing sound that holds no pity. “She’s not doing anything. It’s you who sees it as a challenge.”

“A challenge easily won,” Agatha snaps, her irritation slipping through. Still, she doesn’t move. Not yet. She knows you too well to make a scene in public. No, this required precision.

—

The air buzzes with conversation, the flicker of candlelight casting shadows that dance across the stone walls and when you finally turn toward her, your face brightens at the sight of her. You weave through everybody, the scent of burning herbs mingling with the faint tang of red wine, excusing yourself with a polite smile and a brief touch of hands that only fuel Agatha’s determination. By the time you reach her, she has composed herself into a picture of calm.

“You’re being antisocial again,” you tease lightly, tilting your head to study her. “Should I be worried?”

“Hardly,” she replies smoothly, though her voice dips into a tone that sends a shiver down your spine. “Although perhaps you should.”

You blink, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

Agatha steps closer, her fingers brushing your wrist lightly. The contact sparks against your skin, her magic coiling beneath the surface. Her eyes lock onto yours, and you feel the weight of her presence settle over you like a velvet cloak.

“You’ve been quite generous with your attention tonight,” she says softly, her voice carrying an edge that makes your heart skip. “Perhaps too generous.”

Your brows furrowed. “Are you jealous?”

“Jealous?” She laughs low and dangerous. “No, darling. Jealousy is for those who doubt their place. I know exactly where I stand. Do you?”

Her words linger in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning, and then Agatha’s fingers trail up your arm, her touch deliberate and slow, leaving behind a faint, smouldering heat. The air between you thickens, charged with her magic and something even more primal. Her breath brushes your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “You don’t understand yet,” she whispers, her tone laced with a dark promise. “But you will.”

“Come with me,” she commands, making your pulse race.

Agatha doesn’t speak as she pulls you down the hallway, her grip firm but not painful, though there’s no mistaking the fire in her movements. You trail after her, a little breathless from trying to keep up, still half-confused about what’s gotten into her. It’s not until she shoves open the door to her study and drags you inside that she finally stops, turning to face you. The door clicks shut behind you with a wave of her hand, the air in the room thickening, charged with something electric and unrelenting.

“Agatha—” you start, but her sharp look cuts you off.

“Do you enjoy parading yourself like that?” she asks, her voice deceptively soft as she steps closer. “Letting them think they have the right to touch what’s mine?” The words cut like a knife, her tone equal parts petal and thorn, daring you to challenge her claim.

Her words sting, but there’s a flicker of defiance in your chest. You didn’t think you’d done anything wrong, yet the weight of her gaze makes you second-guess yourself. “What? She was just being nice."

“Nice.” Agatha repeats, a dark chuckle escaping her lips as she closes the distance between you. “That wasn’t ‘nice,’ darling. She was flirting. And you…" Agatha pauses, her jaw tightening ever so slightly. For a fleeting moment, there’s a flicker of something in her eyes—not doubt, exactly, but something close. Vulnerability that is quickly buried under her usual sharpness. “You’re far too sweet to see it.”

You open your mouth to argue, but the words die in your throat as her thumb brushes your bottom lip, lingering just long enough to make your heart stutter. “You’re mine,” she says softly, almost like a warning, her eyes darkening as she leans in. “You can laugh and smile at the others all you want,” she continues, her voice like silk laced with steel. “But they’ll never know you the way I do. They’ll never touch you like this.”

Your breath hitches; your body already betraying you as heat pools in your stomach. Agatha’s hands move to your shoulders, steady and deliberate as she turns you around to face the desk. You feel the press of her body against your back, her breath warm against your neck as she leans in. “Don’t move,” she murmurs, the command dripping with authority.

You stand still, barely daring to breathe, though your mind races. The weight of her gaze, the heat of her power, wraps around you like an unrelenting grip. A thrill courses through your chest—half fear, half longing—as you realise what she’s about to do. This is more than a claim; it’s a declaration, a tether, and deep down, you’re not sure if you’d ever want to break free.

 Agatha brushes her fingers down the column of your throat and across your collarbone before stopping over your chest. Her touch is gentle, but the power swirling from her is anything but. 

“Right here,” she murmurs, her voice a dark velvet caress. Her fingers brush over your chest, leaving a tingling trail of magic in their wake. “This is where my claim belongs—above your heart, so no one ever forgets who it beats for.”

A surge of violet magic blooms from her palm, tendrils of shimmering light twisting and curling as they seep into your skin. It’s not just energy—it’s alive, sparking and crackling like a storm contained within your chest. Heat rushes through you, both foreign and familiar, as if her power is carving itself into your very being.

You gasp, your body arching instinctively as Agatha mumbles soft incantations under her breath. When she pulls her hand away, your heart is racing, and you feel it—a faint, lingering hum where her magic settled.

“Look,” she instructs, her voice soft yet commanding. 

There, etched into your skin in delicate, curling lines of violet, are Agatha’s initials. It’s an ancient and commanding mark, pulsing faintly with magic. You feel it thrum in time with your heartbeat, as though Agatha herself has left a piece of her soul imprinted onto you. 

You blink, lips parted in surprise, but before you can speak, Agatha’s fingers ghost over the mark. The second she touches it, a wave of pleasure rushes through you, leaving you trembling as a choked gasp escapes your throat.

“Sensitive, isn’t it?” She murmurs, her lips curling into a satisfied smirk. “Maybe now you’ll remember who owns you.”

You shiver under her touch, the magic from the mark sparking with every deliberate brush of her fingers. She leans in close, her voice a low purr against your ear. “And if you ever let anyone get that close again, I’ll make sure you cannot walk for days, darling. Do you understand?”

You swallow hard, nodding wordlessly, and Agatha hums approvingly. “Good girl.”

Agatha’s approval drips like honey into your veins, the warmth of her magic lingering just beneath your skin. Your body betrays you completely—breath shaky, pulse fluttering, and heat pooling low in your stomach. Every brush of her fingers near the freshly marked skin pulls a soft gasp from your lips, and you can feel her smile against your ear.

“Sensitive already,” she husks with dark amusement, the words sending a fresh shiver down your spine. Her fingertips ghost over the mark again, just enough to make your knees buckle, and you clutch at the edge of the desk for support. “Such a pretty reaction. I could play with you like this for hours, you know. Watch you squirm. Hear you beg.”

"Agatha,” you breathe, her name tumbling from your lips in a desperate mix of frustration and longing.

She tsks softly, her free hand trailing down your side, gripping your hip firmly enough to hold you in place. “Do you feel it yet?” she asks softly, tilting your chin up to force your gaze on her. “The way you need me now?” Her voice drops lower, the teasing edge softening into something deeper, more possessive. “That mark isn’t just to ward off wandering hands, love. It’s a tether. A reminder of exactly who you belong to.”

You can only nod, unable to find your voice as the thrum of magic beneath your skin grows more insistent. The mark feels alive—Agatha’s initials pulsing faintly, like they’re echoing your own heartbeat. The sensation deepens when she leans closer, her lips just grazing the sensitive skin below your jaw, and you let out a shaky whimper before you can stop yourself.

“That’s it,” Agatha whispers against your neck, her breath sending another ripple of arousal through you. Her lips curl into a smirk as she presses a kiss there, followed by a deliberate flick of her tongue. “You’re already so desperate. My mark is working beautifully.”

Her hand trails down the front of your body, teasing but never quite satisfying the ache that’s grown unbearable. “I could make you cum just by touching it,” she continues, her voice like velvet as she strokes a single finger lightly over the mark once more. The pleasure spikes instantly—so sharp and overwhelming that your head falls back with a gasp, your thighs pressing together in a feeble attempt for relief.

Agatha pulls back just enough to watch the way you tremble, utterly at her mercy. “Tell me, darling. Do you understand now? Do you know who you belong to?”

“Yes,” you manage, the word escaping in a breathless, desperate whisper.

Her smirk widens. “Say it.”

“You, Agatha,” you murmur, your voice shaking. “I belong to you.”

“Good girl,” she hums, her voice softer now, almost tender. Her fingers trace the edge of the mark, drawing a shuddering breath from your lips. “You wear it beautifully,” she murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss just above the sigil. Her magic lingers there, warm and possessive, as she cups your cheek with a rare gentleness. “Mine,” she whispers again, more for herself than you.

-----

I just need to take a moment to appreciate the way Kathryn looks at the camera in the gif used at the start... the woman is staring into my soul and ughhhh the piercingssssss 😩😩😩

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Taglist: @danveration @aceday @alwaysharmony

[lilidawnonthemoon]

[joemama-2]

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 8.2k tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

“You look so handsome like this…” a sultry chuckle is followed by a warm kiss to the lips. The man with a receding hairline laughs in a slimy way, welcoming the woman into his lap. Arms settled around her midsection, indulging in her lips. 

The moment is quickly shut down when an intruding voice cuts in. “Haruka! Some guy is waiting for you at the door.”

With a huff, she pulls back. Lip curled up into a scowl, turning her head over her shoulder to face the man at the top of the stairs. “Tell ‘em I’m busy, damn it!” She snarls out. 

The man sighs and rubs his bald head. “I already did. He said he wants to speak to you, now hurry up here.”

When the door slams shut, she turns back to her customer. “I’ll be back.” She smiles and kisses his wrinkly cheek before getting up and off his lap. She fixes her clothing, a simple tank top and shorts. Looking at the small mirror, she frowns and straightens down her hair. She’s reminded to dye her hair black again to cover up the incoming gray hairs that always greet her nowadays. She applies her usual red lick back to her skin, perking them up with a small pop noise. Her eyes, beady and dark, fixate back up at the door while her feet drag her. 

Once she’s up in the main portion of the building, she rounds a corner and sees a neatly suited man standing at the front desk. The man who called her attention before gives her a certain look before walking off and letting her deal with it. She smiles, leaning against the hardwood. “Why, hello there, handsome. How may I help you today?”

The man, undeterred and stoic, regards her with barely any emotion. The dark sunglasses on his face obscuring his eyes and Haruka’s brow twitches for a moment in annoyance. She still keeps up her game, however. Resting her cheek against her palm. “Well? How can I—”

“Ms. Haruka, right?” 

The stranger’s voice is deep and defined, causing Haruka’s eyebrows to raise in interest. Her smile widens and she hums playfully. “Ah, well depends on who’s asking. If it’s you, then you can call me Candy.” She whispers the last part, leaning in like she told him a big secret; giggling to herself. 

The man spares a brief glance down at his wristwatch. Haruka notices its pristine gold, oh how valuable. An idea is already forming in her head when she looks back at the man’s black, circular shades. But what he says next causes her body to go into a temporary state of comatose. 

“Are you the mother of Y/N L/N? If so, please come with me. There are some things my bosses would like to discuss with you.”

It’s the day after Christmas. You luckily got the day off and you’ve just been lounging around your place with Koji. Eating some leftovers and cleaning up a bit, watching him rave about the new toys he got; it’s a pleasant sight. Satoru hasn’t texted you anything today, and while you’re not holding him to that expectation, there’s a part of you that worries he’s still angry. Or maybe even upset at the gift you got him. It probably brought up negative emotions for him. But it was a last minute thing and you assumed he would greatly appreciate it. 

Maybe your assumption was wrong. 

You shake off the thought, refusing to dwell on it. Satoru has always been hard to read, and overanalyzing his silence won’t do you any good. Instead, you focus on Koji, who’s currently making his action figures reenact some elaborate battle scene on the coffee table. His laughter echoes through the room, bright and infectious, pulling a small smile from you.

“Koji, don’t forget to put the smaller pieces back in the box when you’re done,” you remind him gently.

“Okay, Mama!” he chirps, not looking up from his imaginary world.

You take another bite of your leftovers, savoring the quiet domesticity of the moment. It’s not often you get a day to just relax like this. Still, that nagging thought about Satoru lingers in the back of your mind, no matter how much you try to ignore it. Your fingers reach up, feeling for the star pendant Suguru got you. Smiling to yourself as your fingertips graze over the metal. You’re suddenly reminded of the fact that you haven’t thanked him. 

You grab your phone, thumb hovering over his contact. It’s a small debate to call or text him, unsure of which is more…appropriate. Maybe he’s busy or maybe he wouldn’t mind a phone call at this time. You bite your lip, inhaling deeply then letting it go, deciding that your gratitude would feel more authentic if he actually heard you say it. 

You click the call button and within the second ring, his voice lightens up the other end. “Hello?”

You clear your throat before speaking. “Hey, Suguru,” you say softly, twirling the pendant between your fingers. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Not at all,” he replies warmly, a hint of curiosity in his tone. “What’s up?”

As you pause for a moment, your thoughts are being gathered. “I just wanted to thank you… for the gift. The pendant, it’s beautiful.” Your voice dips slightly, the sincerity in your words undeniable. “You didn’t have to, but… it means a lot to me.”

There’s a brief silence on his end before he chuckles softly. “I’m glad you like it. I figured it’d suit you.”

You can’t help but smile, your fingers still tracing the small, intricate patterns on the pendant. “It does. Koji said it makes me look pretty.”

Suguru laughs at that, the sound soft and familiar. “He’s not wrong. The kid’s got good taste.”

A small heat pools in your stomach, cheeks blushing a bit. When you glance over at Koji, you notice just how engrossed he still is in his action figures. “He’s been talking about that Spider-Man you got him nonstop. He even took it to bed with him last night.”

“Really? That’s adorable,” Suguru comments, his tone light but carrying an underlying fondness. “I’m glad he liked it. He’s a great kid.”

“He is,” you agree, your voice softening. “I’m lucky to have him.”

There’s a pause, the silence between you both comfortable yet loaded with things left unsaid. Finally, Suguru breaks it. “How are you doing? After last night, I mean. Satoru told me he was going over.”

The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re unsure how to answer. “I’m… okay,” you eventually get out, though it feels like a half-truth. “It was just… a lot. But we did it. For Koji.” 

He hums from the other side. “Yeah, that’s good. I figured.” A moment of pause before he continues. “Satoru can be… intense, especially when it comes to you and Koji.”

You let out a small, humorless laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”

“But other than that, it was good?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

He smiles. “I’m glad, you two deserve a good Christmas.”

With one hand, you bring your dirty dishes to the sink, the other keeping your phone to your ear. “What about you? Was yours good too?”

Suguru’s voice sighs wistfully. “It was, yeah. My team and I spent it handing out some gifts and hot chocolate to the kids. Seeing their faces light up with joy like that, it makes you feel really good, you know?”

Your heart warms at his words, picturing Suguru in his element—kind, compassionate, always thinking of others. You’re reminded back to the time you saw him that day with Koji. “That sounds wonderful,” you speak softly, leaning against the counter. “You’re really amazing for doing that, Suguru. Those kids are lucky to have someone like you.”

He chuckles modestly, the sound low and comforting. “I don’t know about amazing, but thanks. It’s just something small I can do. Makes the holidays feel more meaningful.”

You smile, twirling the pendant again as you consider his words. “It’s more than small. It’s thoughtful. It’s... you.” The words slip out before you can stop them, and you feel your cheeks flush immediately. Embarrassment floods your insides. 

There’s a brief silence on his end, followed by a soft laugh. “You’re too kind. But coming from you, I’ll take it as a high compliment.”

You shake your head, grinning despite yourself. “It’s not kindness. It’s the truth.”  

Koji’s excited shout from the living room snaps you back to the moment. He’s discovered a new pose for his Spider-Man, proudly showing it off as he runs over. “Mama, look!”  

Suguru must hear the commotion, his tone lightening further. “Sounds like someone’s having a good time.”  

“He is,” you say, watching Koji’s eyes sparkle with joy. You nod in astonishment. When your son is satisfied with your praise, he rushes back to the coffee table. “He’s been nonstop since yesterday. I think this Spider-Man might be his new best friend.”  

“Then my mission was a success,” Suguru replies with a chuckle. “I’ll have to find something to top it next year.”  

You bite the inside of your cheek while his words bring a pang of guilt. It’s strange; how easy it is to talk to Suguru, how natural it feels to share these moments. And yet, there’s a part of you that wonders if you’re leaning on him too much, especially with everything unresolved with Satoru. You wonder if what you’re doing is wrong, and considering Satoru’s reaction to his friend’s gift to you, you feel like you’re almost…betraying Satoru. 

“Thank you again, Suguru,” you repeat, your voice calmer now. “For everything. You didn’t have to go out of your way for us, but you did, and it means a lot.”  

“You don’t have to thank me,” he says gently. “You and Koji... you guys are important to me too, you know?”  

The weight of his words settles over you, warm and steady. “That means a lot to me too.”  

There’s another comfortable pause before Suguru clears his throat. “Well, I should let you get back to your day. I’m glad you called, though. Don’t be a stranger, okay?”  

“Okay,” you promise, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Take care, Suguru.”  

“You too,” he says, his voice lingering for a moment before the call ends.  

As you set your phone down, you glance at Koji, who’s now back to his world of action figures. You can’t help but feel grateful for the people in your life now who care so deeply about you and your son.  

But even with that gratitude, your thoughts drift back to Satoru, the press, his parents. And you ponder over the idea of what he’s doing right now, whether he’s holding onto the photograph, if he set it up somewhere; and what it might mean for the three of you moving forward.

There’s no time to start drowning in your thoughts any longer. You’ve already done that yesterday and practically every other day before that. A bigger question has been gnawing at you, and now that you have some free time, you figure you should look into it now. Grabbing your laptop, turning it on and clicking on Google once the screen awakens. The small business card is placed to your right as you type away the company name in the search bar. 

You click on the first link. 

It takes you to an entire directory of the services of Carlisle & Harlow. 

The website loads quickly, its sleek design showcasing high-end properties and exclusive services. The polished images of luxurious estates, private jets, and lavish vacation homes scroll past as you navigate through the various tabs. The site is clearly designed to appeal to an elite audience—every detail is immaculate. You skim through the different services offered, including property management, concierge arrangements, personal assistants, and lifestyle coaching. It all feels a bit too polished, almost like an invitation into a world you’ve only ever seen from the outside.

You feel a slight unease in your stomach. Your mind races back to the business card Evelyn gave you—one that seemed so out of place given everything else you’ve seen in your life. You click through to the “About Us” section, hoping to find more answers about what the company actually does or who else is behind it. 

The page provides a brief history, detailing the company’s founding by the woman, Evelyn Carlisle and her now deceased husband, Noah Harlow—both of whom have since made a name for themselves in the luxury service industry. 

You click on the “Our Team” link. Several executives are listed, each with brief bios that read like glowing resumes. Next, you click on the “Contact Us” tab, staring at the address listed—an upscale location in the city’s financial district. It’s the kind of place where secrets are hidden behind high walls and the name on the door probably has a lot of power behind it.

Taking a deep breath, you mull over this instance. Maybe it’s time to investigate further, but you’re not sure how much deeper you want to dig—especially not without some sort of plan. But that Evelyn woman seemed a little strange to you. It’s just the fact that everything felt quite planned out to you, like someone told her to come to your workplace and offer a job interview. Your intuition has always been right and ever since you became a mother, that increased tenfold. But, this seems like it might have more of a good outcome than a bad one. 

You wouldn’t have to maintain the hard balance of working two jobs and a child. As you continue scrolling and clicking on multiple tabs within the website, one catches your interest. 

‘About Our Founders’

You’re met with pictures of Evelyn and her husband, posing with what you can only assume are other businesspeople, with paragraphs of their background to go along with it. Nothing looks out of the ordinary so far, until a particular picture. 

It’s Evelyn and her husband. Posing with Satoru and his father. 

Your heart stops for a moment, your breath catching in your throat as you stare at the screen. The four of them are dressed impeccably, their expressions polished with smiles that feel carefully rehearsed. The caption beneath the photo reads:  

“Celebrating five years of partnership between Carlisle & Harlow and the Gojo Group, fostering innovation and excellence in high-end luxury services.”

Your stomach churns. The idea of Satoru or his family being involved in this job offer. And it almost makes sense now—Evelyn showing up at your workplace, the too-perfect job offer, the strange sense of everything being orchestrated. It wasn’t a coincidence. It couldn’t be. Unless it is?

Your fingers hover over the trackpad, trembling slightly as you click on the bio beneath Evelyn’s photo. Her background is as pristine as expected: Ivy League education, years of experience in luxury branding, and a reputation for impeccable taste. But it’s the section about her connections that catches your eye:  

"Evelyn Carlisle maintains close ties with prominent families, including the Gojo family, and has been instrumental in crafting tailored solutions for their elite clientele."

Your head spins. This isn’t just a job opportunity—it’s a calculated move. But why? Why now? And why through Evelyn instead of directly from Satoru or his family? You glance back at the business card on your table, its gold lettering gleaming in the soft light. It feels heavier now, like it’s carrying the weight of unseen motives.  

Koji’s laughter breaks through your swirling thoughts, grounding you momentarily. You look over at him, playing so innocently, so unaware of the tangled web you’re beginning to unravel. Taking a deep breath, you close the laptop and sit back. Whatever this is, it’s not just about you anymore. If Evelyn’s offer is part of some larger scheme, you’ll need to figure out the truth before you make any decisions.  

Maybe you’re overthinking this. The Gojo Group is huge and very obviously powerful, of course, they would have ties with Carlisle & Harlow. It’s not that far-fetched, right? It’s just a job opportunity, don’t think too much into it. 

It’s around the next day at work now. Walking to the café, phone in hand. Rereading Satoru’s first text to you since you last saw him, it’s not entirely underwhelming, you just hoped that he would have expressed his gratitude for your gift. 

Satoru:

Koji left his jacket here from last time, I’ll bring it over today

Your lips purse, thumbs going haywire over the bright screen. Should you ask if he enjoyed the gift? If he even opened it in the first place? Or maybe you’re dragging this out far too much. With a deep breath, entering the cafe, you type back:

You:

I thought you had work today 

Satoru’s response comes almost immediately, as if he was waiting for you to text back.

Satoru:

I do, but I can swing by during lunch. The place is a little far from me, can I come to your job and drop it off?

You hesitate, wanting to type back a ‘no’ as soon as he asked. It would feel a little weird if he came. Satoru and your workplace just don’t seem to mix—and you don’t want them to. If he came, it would only further solidify the fact that he’s integrating himself into your life. Again, you’re probably overthinking things, he’s just dropping off your son’s jacket. But the thought of seeing him right now feels oddly nerve-inducing. 

You:

Sure, I’m on lunch at 12

When you drop the pin of the café’s address, you pocket your phone and set your stuff down, tying the apron around your waist. Hana, on her phone texting, barely looks up when you enter. It’s becoming a bit more repetitive nowadays. Patting down the apron, you speak up. “Still talking to that Naoya guy?”

She hums and nods, giggling at something that was messaged before swiftly typing back a response. Your lips purse, brows knitting at her lack of acknowledgment for you. This guy must really be entrancing her. “He said he was coming today.”

“Oh, really?” You ask, offering a small smile. “I’ll finally meet the lucky guy.”

Hana’s eyes flick up at you briefly before returning to her phone, her cheeks slightly flushed. “Hm? Oh, yeah. but don’t embarrass me, okay?”  

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head as you grab a few boxes to refill the supplies up front behind the counter, cutting them open. “I’ll try not to. Just don’t expect me to be on my best behavior if he’s rude.”  

She scoffs, though her grin betrays her amusement. “He’s not rude. You’ll like him, I think. He’s… different.”  

You arch a brow, intrigued by her tone. “Different, huh? Guess we’ll see.”  

Hana waves you off, clearly too engrossed in her conversation to elaborate further.  

And so, the morning drags on, and you can’t help but notice Hana glancing at the door every few minutes, a mix of anticipation and nerves written all over her face. Meanwhile, you busy yourself with the usual flow of customers, though your own nerves begin to creep in as the clock inches closer to noon.  

When the bell above the café door finally chimes, you glance up instinctively. A tall man with sharp features and an air of confidence steps in, scanning the room briefly before his gaze lands on Hana. His hair is slicked back neatly, and he’s dressed in a tailored coat that screams wealth and status. The tips of his hair dipped black, his eyes are so cat-like that it almost freaks you out at first.  

Hana’s face lights up as she quickly puts the cleaning supplies that were in her hands down and waves him over. “Naoya!”  

He strides over, a smirk tugging at his lips as he leans in to greet her with a kiss on the cheek. “Hana,” he says smoothly, his voice low and self-assured. 

Your eyebrows raise at the blatant show of affection in front of not just you—but the rest of the customers. It’s slightly unlike Hana because you remember her telling you how much she despised PDA. Maybe Naoya is making her come out of her shell. That’s good, right? You watch the interaction from behind the counter, your initial impression of him forming almost immediately. There’s something about his demeanor—charming, yes, but also a little too smug for your liking. Your senses are telling you to be subtly on guard around this man. 

Hana glances over at you, her smile widening. “Naoya, this is my coworker—”  

“Friend,” you correct with a playful smile, giving her a tiny look. It’s strange how she was just going to introduce you as a coworker when she always calls you her friend. Not thinking too much of it, you step out from behind the counter to extend a hand. “Nice to meet you, Naoya. I’m Y/N.”

He takes your hand, his grip firm but calculated. His eyes flicker over you briefly, as if sizing you up. If possible, his grin widens, eyes growing more crescent-like. “Pleasure’s mine,” he says, though the smirk on his face doesn’t quite reach his eyes.  

“So, you’re the one who’s been keeping Hana so distracted lately,” you remark lightly, folding your arms.  

Naoya chuckles, his gaze shifting back to Hana. “She’s easy to talk to. Hard not to get distracted by her.”  

Hana blushes, clearly pleased by the compliment, but you can’t shake the nagging feeling that there’s something a little… off about him.  “Well,” you say, forcing a polite smile, “welcome to our humble abode. Let me know if you need anything.”  

Naoya nods, his smirk unwavering. “Will do.”  

As you step back behind the counter, you catch Hana giving you a warning glance, silently begging you not to say anything more. You just shrug, grabbing the rag Hana previously discarded to wipe down the counter, though you can’t help but keep an ear on their conversation. They convert over to a booth in the corner, seemingly for some privacy. 

Something about Naoya sets your instincts on edge. Maybe it’s the way he carries himself, or the way his smile feels more like a performance than genuine warmth. He’s reminding you of Satoru, just more insidious. It’s probably a little rude of you to have such a critical judgment of the man who’s making your friend swoon, but isn’t that what friends, do? Making sure the men or women that come into their lives are worthy of it? Whatever it is, you make a mental note to keep an eye on him—if only for Hana’s sake.  

You stop eavesdropping. Hana’s a grown woman, if anything, she knows what’s more right for her than you do. Besides, you’re one of the only ones working right now, so it’s better to focus on delivering customer service than ensuring the man in the corner (who has been keenly drifting his eyes towards your figure) is good enough for Hana. Hana, oblivious to your discomfort, continues chatting with Naoya, her smile wide as she laughs at something he says. Her back is turned to you, and all you can do is concentrate on the rising sense of unease in your gut. It’s the way Naoya’s posture remains open and confident, but there’s a hardness behind his eyes that doesn’t sit right with you. He seems like someone who expects to get what he wants, and the thought of him using his charm to manipulate Hana makes you clench your fists beneath the counter. You’re just trying to understand the strange energy he brings into the environment. Maybe it’s your overactive imagination, but you still can’t shake the perception that there’s more to this man than Hana is seeing.

As you refocus on your tasks, you can physically feel the weight of Naoya’s gaze lingering on you. It’s subtle, but unsettling—like he’s paying more attention to you than he is Hana. You shake it off, putting your mind into the register as a customer walks up to place an order. However, the uneasy feeling stays with you. You move through the motions of your shift. Every time you briefly glance over to the booth, his gaze is drawn to you. Not in the way you’d expect a person to look at someone they’ve just met, but with something more calculating. It’s almost as if he’s analyzing you, but why?

You don’t even know how long it has been, at least 15 orders later, when the two walk back up to the front. Hana grabs your attention. “Y/N, Naoya brought up a really good idea. His friend owns that new bar I was telling you about a few weeks ago! Do you want to go out tomorrow after your other job?”

You glance up, a bit surprised by the invitation. It’s not like you haven’t been out with Hana before, but something about tonight feels odd. Maybe it’s Naoya’s presence, or maybe it’s the weird sense of being observed earlier. Still, it’s a chance to unwind, and Hana seems genuinely excited.

You give a soft smile, though it feels a little strained. “I don’t know, Hana. I’ve got a lot on my plate. Plus, I’m not sure about the bar idea... not really in the mood for crowds.”

Her eyes widen, and she steps closer, lowering her voice. “Come on, you deserve a break. You’ve been working so hard lately. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

You meet her eyes, trying to gauge her sincerity. She’s always been good at getting you to loosen up when you're feeling overwhelmed. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to go for just a little while, but you still have reservations about Naoya. “Alright, I’ll think about it. I’ll see if I can get out earlier,” you say, trying to keep your tone light. “But no promises.”

Hana’s face lights up. “Yay! I knew you’d come around.” She looks over her shoulder at Naoya, who’s standing a few feet away, reading the two of you with an unreadable expression. 

You suddenly feel like this moment might be the start of something unpredictable. As much as you want to just go with the flow for Hana, a part of you ponders if there’s more to Naoya’s invitation than just a night out. But, for now, you push the thought aside.

“Well, you don’t want to miss out,” Naoya speaks up, chuckling to himself. “Just try. It’s called No Man’s Land. I’ll be there around 10:30 tomorrow night, hopefully I'll see you both there.”

You nod slowly, still hesitant about the whole thing. Something about the way Naoya phrased it—so casual, so sure of himself—rubs you the wrong way. There’s an underlying expectation in his words like he’s already decided that you’ll both show up. You’re not sure if it’s just his personality or something more, but the thought of him controlling the situation leaves you with a strange feeling. Hana, though, looks delighted. “It’ll be so much fun, Y/N. Just relax. A drink or two won’t hurt.” She flashes you a grin before turning back to Naoya, all smiles as she talks about what they’ll do at the bar.

You’re like an outsider, watching as Hana becomes more entangled in Naoya’s charm. You wonder if she sees it too—the little things about him that don’t add up. The way he already seems like the type of man to be just one step ahead with a plan. But she’s excited, so you don’t want to rain on her parade. Besides, you can always back out later if it doesn’t feel right.

Luckily, she sees him out right after. 

And unluckily, you’re waiting outside on your break for Satoru sooner rather than later. 

You glance at your phone once more, watching the minutes tick by. Your break feels longer than it should, and the anticipation of seeing Satoru again only adds to the anxiety that’s been building ever since your last interaction. You tell yourself it’s just a quick exchange—Koji’s jacket, nothing more. But every moment feels charged as if something is on the verge of shifting.

The cool air outside offers a bit of relief, though the tension in your chest doesn’t quite let up. You stand near the corner of the café, eyes scanning the street for any sign of him. The sound of footsteps approaches, and you turn, only to find Satoru strolling toward you with his usual carefree aura.

“Hey,” he greets, his tone light, but there’s something different about the way his eyes stay on you—something that feels almost too familiar. He holds out the jacket. “Koji’s jacket. Didn’t want to leave him without it.”

You take the jacket from him, the weight of it making you more aware of the subtle intimacy of the moment. “Thanks,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “I appreciate it.”

He doesn’t say anything immediately, just watches you for a beat too long. You shift on your feet, suddenly feeling acutely aware of the silence hanging between you.

“Is that all?” you ask, hoping the question doesn’t come off too abrupt.

Satoru tilts his head as if considering something. “What do you mean?”

God, you hate it when he plays stupid like this. It forces you to be outright with what you want to say. Standing up straighter, chin tilting high. “I mean…like—well I guess what I’m trying to say is that…did you open…the gift I gave you?”

Satoru’s gaze shifts slightly, his usual simmering confidence faltering just enough to make you second-guess yourself. He pauses like he’s weighing your question more carefully than he typically would. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve overstepped—if you’ve asked something too personal or too vulnerable. The silence stretches between you like a taut wire.

“Your gift?” he finally says, the corner of his mouth lifting just a bit. He sounds almost amused, but there’s a hint of something else in his voice, something you can’t quite pin down.

You feel a wave of heat rise in your cheeks, but you stand your ground. “Yeah. The one I gave you on Christmas.” The words feel clumsy as they leave your mouth, but you can’t take them back now.

Satoru’s expression shifts, the air tensing slightly. “I did,” he says simply, as though it’s nothing. “It was… nice.”

You want to push him further, to demand more of a response, but something about the way he says it makes you hesitate. Is that all? You want to ask again. Was it just “nice”? That’s all? After everything—the thought you put into the gift, the small but meaningful gesture—you wonder if maybe it didn’t even register with him the way it did with you. Maybe you were right, he didn’t even open it and is now coming up with a bullshit response because you put him on blast. 

But you don’t want to push too hard. You already feel like you’re treading on delicate ground. So you force yourself to smile, even though it feels a little stiff. “Well, I’m glad you liked it,” you reply, not entirely sure if you believe your own words.

There’s another beat of silence, and then Satoru shifts his weight slightly, signalling that he’s about to leave. “I should get going. Got some things to take care of,” he says, but he doesn’t immediately turn away.

Instead, his eyes flicker down to your hands, where you’re still holding Koji’s jacket. “Take care of yourself,” he adds, his tone softening just a bit.

You nod, trying to hide the strange pang in your chest. “You too,” you reply, though your voice is quieter now.

His lips thin into an awkward smile. It’s one you give a stranger or someone you barely know—but that’s how things feel between you now, isn’t it? It’s really not worth dwelling over the tiny things that further more prove the horrid line of connection between you two. But for some reason, it still hurts and picks at your heart. 

That moment is quickly splashed away when a familiar—but teeth-gritting voice squeals from behind Satoru. Your grip tightens on Koji’s jacket. Satoru’s shoulders tense up. 

“Satoru! Why’d you leave me in that boutique? It took forever to find you!”

She appears next to Satoru, her presence immediate and unmistakable. Her eyes flicker between you and Satoru with a mix of scrutiny and something else that you can’t quite place. She’s dressed in something designer, as usual, with that polished, effortless look that screams of wealth and status. Her gaze lingers on you for a moment longer than necessary, a quiet challenge in her eyes.

You feel a knot twist in your stomach, an all-too-familiar sense of discomfort settling into your chest. Satoru’s gaze meets yours for just a moment before he shifts his attention to Himari. “Sorry, didn’t mean to leave you hanging,” he says, his tone light but lacking its usual warmth.

Himari, not seeming to notice or care about the tension in the air, flashes you a tight-lipped smile that screams fake. “Oh, well look who it is. The leech.”

“Himari.” Satoru gruffs under his breath, giving his girlfriend a dirty side-eye. 

“What? One minute we're spending the day together and the next you’re here with…her.”

Your jaw clenches, noticing the tug Satoru gives the other woman to the back of her dress, lowly whispering something into her ear. But her facial expression doesn’t deter, and neither does her snaky persona. 

“I thought you had work.” You utter, eyes flickering back to Satoru. 

His brows tighten, huffing out an exasperated breath. Before he can respond, she does it for him. “If you consider being by my side and treating all my needs work, then yeah, he is working.” She giggles at her own joke, making a show of turning his head towards her and plopping a kiss on his pink lips. It lasts only a few seconds before he pulls away. 

But even those few seconds feel like a lifetime.

You feel the bite of Himari’s words, even if they’re clearly meant to dig into you. The word “leech” still stings, even though you know it’s not intended for anything other than a cruel jab. Satoru’s response, or lack thereof, makes the situation all the more uncomfortable. His eyes flick to you for a brief second before turning back to Himari, his expression more quiet and guarded

 One question sounds throughout your brain. Why are you even with her?

You stand there, the tension heavy in the air between the three of you, white-knuckling onto Koji’s jacket, as if it could anchor you through this awkward, uncomfortable moment. Himari’s gaze holds yours for a moment longer like she’s trying to read you, trying to see if you'll react. You want to say something, anything, but you can feel the weight of the situation hanging on your tongue, making it hard to even speak.

Satoru looks between the two of you, his jaw tightening slightly. "Let's go," he mutters, more to Himari than to you, though you can tell he’s trying to smooth things over. Himari, however, isn’t having it. She steps forward, a small smirk on her face as she eyes you again. 

“So,” she starts, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “you two still playing catch-up or is it ‘out of sight, out of mind’ now?” 

Her clipped tone is pointed, deliberately meant to prod, and the weight of them sinks in—her intent clear. Satoru doesn’t reply, simply glancing at you with a silent apology in his eyes—if you can even call it that. You want to scoff at his lousiness. It’s clear she’s trying to assert her dominance in the situation, but you’re not sure whether it’s her trying to put you in your place or if it’s something else entirely.

You force a tight smile, the words you're looking for escaping you. “No need to worry,” you manage to say, the words barely leaving your lips as you turn to look at Satoru one last time. “I’m sure you both have things to do. I’ll get back to work.”

Satoru doesn’t protest, and Himari just gives you another dismissive glance. "Whatever," she mutters under her breath, but you catch the taunt in her voice. She might be playing it off, but you sense otherwise. 

As they walk away, the weight of the encounter lingers in the air around you. You stand frozen for a moment, the jacket still in your hands, and then—almost instinctively—you turn on your heel and head back inside the café. Your heart still pounds in your chest, the sting of Himari’s words lingering long after they’ve both left.

You don’t even know what hurts more—the fact that Satoru’s dismissive attitude didn’t change, Himari’s words somehow managed to rattle you more than you care to admit, or the fact that he barely…stood up for you. It is selfish to at least hold him to a certain degree—a degree where he has the decency to protect you from the cruel shit his now girlfriend so nonchalantly delivers towards you? Maybe how he acted during that first unexpected encounter was all for show.

And of course, the pain in your chest feels more like a slow burn now, another brutal—unwanted reminder that things between you and Satoru, whatever they were…are long gone.

An Izakaya of this caliber is something Haruka would have only dreamed of sitting in. Warm lighting is stationed above them, inside their own private room while she drinks away and away—solely because the people before her are buying. There are dishes of food scattered around, some picked from and others haven’t been touched yet. “You know, I really appreciate you spoiling me for the past two days, it’s nicer than any man has ever treated me.” 

She laughs to herself, casually leaning back on her palms, holding her pitcher of beer back up to her lips and sipping like a madman. Emi and Kenji Nakamura regard the woman with equally disgusted faces. Beside them is their personal lawyer. 

“So,” Haruka starts, burping and leaning forward once more. “What’s this all about my precious daughter, huh?” Her lip quirks up in a sneer at the reminder of the child she had and practically threw to the wolves. “Is she acting up again? She’s always been a little troublemaker.”

“I’m sure you’ve seen the articles, yes?” Kenji’s firm voice replies. “Involving your daughter, Satoru Gojo, and their son.”

She chokes on her spit. “What?! Son?! No, I haven’t seen anything! I’m a free spirit and I don’t believe in social media, it’s the devil’s play!”

The couple show no further emotion to her outburst. 

Haruka’s face contorts with an expression of disbelief as she wipes her mouth hastily with the back of her hand, trying to regain some composure. The news about Satoru Gojo and her daughter having a child seems to rattle her more than anything else. She leans back again, almost toppling over from the force of her sudden shift in posture, eyes wild. “I—what do you mean, son?” Her voice cracks, and she shoots a glance at Emi and Kenji, her eyes narrowing. “Are you telling me that boy… and my daughter? They have a child?!”

Kenji’s lips curl into a slight frown, his eyes cold. “Yes, it seems your daughter has kept things a secret for years. The media and everyone else have only just found out.”

Haruka’s eyes flash with something venomous, but she quickly masks it with a laugh, the sound forced and hollow. “Ah, what a little dirty sneak. And, please. You know I’m not interested in all that family nonsense. And that son? How could they even think of bringing a kid into their… situation?” Her head shakes as she scoffs at the thought of you bearing a child of your own. And especially with…him. 

“You may not understand now,” Kenji mutters darkly, before leaning in slightly. “But I think it’s time you start paying attention. Because this situation concerns you more than you realize.”

Haruka’s face twitches, the words hitting her harder than she wants to admit. The weight of the sudden revelation was heavy. She glances down at her beer, swirling it absentmindedly, her mind clearly racing with thoughts she doesn’t want to process. “You’re telling me my daughter has a son with him?” she scoffs, shaking her head. “That’s rich. Really rich.” Her tone is bitter, but the realization of the reality around her seems to slowly sink in, and she takes another long sip from her pitcher to steady herself. “She’s such a goddamn fool, I almost feel bad for her. I provided a lot for her, you know? Then she threw it all away.”

Kenji and Emi watch on in disinterest. The lawyer beside them brings out a formal sheet of paper. “We’d like to offer you a deal, Ms. L/N,” Kenji states. 

Haruka looks back up, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Haruka’s eyes narrow, expression shifting from one of indifference to one of calculated curiosity. She shifts in place, wiping her mouth once more with the back of her palm. “A deal? What kind of deal?” she asks, her voice carrying a note of skepticism, but there's a flicker of interest behind her gaze. She leans in slightly, one hand still gripping the pitcher of beer as she lowers it to the table now.

“You see,” Emi starts. “Our only child—our precious daughter is dating Satoru. She probably felt the most disgruntled in this situation out of everyone else. With the suddenness, we fear that everything we have worked for will be put to waste.”

“And with the news of your daughter’s involvement with Satoru Gojo, it has thrown things into disarray for us. What we need is to ensure that this situation doesn’t jeopardize our family’s legacy—both our reputation and, more importantly, our fortune.” Kenji finishes. 

Haruka snorts softly. “I see. So, you’re telling me this little bastard of hers is a problem for you too? What does that have to do with me?” Her words come out sharper than she intends, but she quickly masks it with another bitter laugh.

Emi’s cold gaze sharpens, a glint of something unspoken flickering behind her eyes. “Everything, Haruka. Your daughter’s ties to Satoru Gojo are a direct threat to the family’s interests. And with a child in the picture now… it complicates things further. But we’ve come to a solution, one that involves you—if you’re willing to cooperate.”

Haruka tilts her head, eyes narrowing as she watches the lawyer slide the formal paper across the table toward her. The ink on it is neat, but her eyes flick over it quickly, scanning the contents before she lets out a quiet scoff. “What is this? Some kind of bribe?”

The lawyer, keeping a neutral expression, nods. “It’s an agreement that ensures your cooperation in smoothing over this… situation. If you agree, your involvement will not only secure your own future, but it will also protect the financial interests of both families. In exchange, you’ll receive a position of influence, a stake in the inheritance.”

Haruka’s laughter rings out again, more amused. “Influence? A stake? Do you think I’m some desperate fool who’ll fall for your little schemes? I don’t need your money. I have enough desperate fools willing to give me that already.” She sneers at the paper but then pauses, looking at Kenji and Emi, the weight of their gaze pressing down on her.

She takes another sip from her pitcher, her mind whirling as she weighs her options. A part of her wants to lash out, to dismiss them and their offer completely. But there’s something about the way they’re looking at her, something cold and calculating that makes her pause. The truth is, she’s always been a gambler, and she knows when to fold and when to play her hand. “You really think this is gonna work out?” she says, her voice quieter now, but still filled with an edge of disbelief. “This… deal?” She hesitates, eyes flicking over the paper again, the signature line staring her down. “What exactly are you asking of me?”

Emi leans forward slightly, her posture unyielding. “We need you to leverage your relationship with your daughter. Influence her decisions, guide her actions—anything you can to help steer her away from Satoru. We want to ensure that the child and his existence don’t affect our plans. In return, we offer you protection, money, and a place at the table. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

Kenji watches her closely, his expression hard, but there’s a glimmer of expectation in his eyes.

Haruka’s mind races, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her beer glass as she processes the offer laid out before her. The temptation of power, of influence, is hard to ignore, even for someone who prides herself on being a free spirit. But she’s also no fool. She knows this is a high-stakes game—one where the risks outweigh the rewards if she misplays her cards. And the amount of 0’s she’s staring down at is inexplicably thrilling. She’s already imagining what she can buy with it. 

For a long moment, the room is silent, the tension thick. Emi and Kenji both stare at her intently, their eyes cold and calculating, watching her every move. The lawyer remains as neutral as ever, the formality of his expression only adding to the weight of the situation.

Haruka's lips curl into a smirk, the edges of her mouth twitching slightly as she leans back in her chair. “Leverage my relationship with my daughter, huh? You really think I can do that?” Her voice is laced with a mix of amusement and disdain. “You must think I’m a puppet master or something. But I’m not interested in some petty manipulation games.”

Kenji’s eyes flash for a brief second, a flicker of something darker crossing his features. "You know the consequences of doing nothing. You’ve been avoiding your daughter long enough, Haruka. But she’s not the same girl anymore. She's tied to Satoru Gojo now, and that complicates things. We need you to make sure she doesn’t forget her place. The family’s future is on the line."

Haruka’s hand freezes in mid-air, her gaze locking with Kenji's. She can feel the weight of her daughter’s past mistakes bearing down on her, the consequences that could affect everything she’s tried to distance herself from. Her jaw ticks, her eye twitching. What a stupid little girl, I tried warning you, didn’t I? “I don’t care about your legacy or your fortune,” Haruka mutters, her tone turning colder, sharper. “But I’m not stupid. I can see what you’re offering me.” Her fingers curl around the edges of the paper, her nails digging into the surface. “I have one question for you, though. What happens if I refuse?”

Emi doesn’t blink, her gaze unflinching as she answers. “If you refuse, Haruka, you’ll be left in the same position you’ve always been—irrelevant. Your daughter’s problems will escalate, and your connections, your influence, will be stay meaningless. You will never succeed and you’ll lose the tiniest amount of leverage you have. You’ll watch as everything you’ve ever taken for granted crumbles.” She pauses, the words hanging in the air. “But if you cooperate, we can guarantee your future. Your daughter’s involvement with Gojo doesn’t need to ruin you.”

Haruka’s eyes flick over the paper again, the signature line now feeling like an anchor, pulling her down into a world of obligations and consequences. She takes a deep breath, feeling the familiar rush of excitement that always comes when she’s faced with a gamble. It’s the thrill of uncertainty, the pull of what could be hers if she plays her cards right. Her bottom lip is worried between her teeth. 

“So, what you’re saying is... I’m supposed to ruin my own daughter’s happiness for the sake of your precious family’s legacy,” Haruka says, her voice low, almost contemplative. She stares at the paper one more time before meeting Emi’s gaze. "Fine. You’ve made your offer. But just so you know, I’m no one's pawn. I’ll make this work for me too. You’re not the only ones with something to gain."

Emi gives a small, satisfied nod, and Kenji’s lips tighten, but there’s a small shift in his demeanor—one that signals the deal has been struck. "Good," Kenji replies, his voice firm. "We’re glad we could come to an agreement. We will contact you if necessary and when your action is needed.”

Haruka, for the first time, sets the pitcher of beer down, her fingers now gently grasping the edge of the paper. She grins maniacally and signs it with a flourish. The ink is dark and permanent, sealing the agreement.

With the ink dry, she sits back, a smirk curling on her lips. “This will be fun.”

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[madamechrissy]

Vampire! Gojo x F!reader

CW: MDNI, explicit sex, cunnilngus, blood drinking Gojo is YANDERE asf lol, kinda manipulative!?!? Enjoy!

Vampire! Gojo who has waited so long to taste you, and taste you everywhere. When you're finally in his arms, and arching your back so pretty, your breasts pressing against his chest, his blue eyes light up so bright it's impossible to stare into them.

Vampire! Gojo who is delicate at first, long fingers gripping your waist, plump lips kissing down the side of your throat, your moan urging him on, while his teeth nip at your delicate skin. You gasp in pleasure moaning out 'Satoru!'

Vampire! Gojo hears his name from your pretty lips and can't contain himself, he sinks his fangs deep into your throat, on that vein, and your bright red blood drips down your collarbone. He moans as you gasp in fright, smirking at you and licking his blood stained lips, grinning with those fangs. 'ya scared? don't be sweets.'

Vampire! Gojo who now kisses you, and you wince at the coppery taste of blood, but then you start to feel so good as your body is pulsing, humming, you feel heat pool in your core, he pulls back to stare at you with those insane baby blues, pupils shrunk to pinpoints, cupping your face with his huge hands.

Vampire! Gojo whispers 'feels good, doesn't it baby?' and you nod weakly, he notices the drops of blood down your breasts, exhaling and licking a trail, you feel more fucked up than any weed and wine combo you've ever done, you feel more fucked up than anything when he rips your pretty dress.

Vampire! Gojo loves that you wore white, it's as if he can picture you on your wedding day, he's waited for so, so many years for you after all, he'll have to have you, to keep you. You're so pathetic for him, when he bares your skin, turning you to start nipping your shoulders, you feel hot trickles of blood as he sucks on the other side of your neck now, you can barely stand but don't worry.

Vampire! Gojo will hold you up, and hold you up he does, as you're bare now, and he faces you towards a mirror. 'reflection...' he chuckles, cupping your chin, thumb on your fluttering pulse. 'oh baby that's all myths, just like me having to be invited in. but you'd invite me anyway, hmm?' you nod, leaning back against him, his fingers drifting around to your front, cupping your soaking wet cunt now.

Vampire! Gojo who feels how wet you are for him 'pretty little slut, hmm?' you should question this, but you simply arch your back in a daze, as he rubs your clit in circles, you hear the squelching wetness of your drippy cunt echoing in Satoru's room. How did you get here, you wonder, but only for a moment, when his long finger teases your entrance and he whispers 'lemme taste you everywhere, baby'

Vampire! Gojo has your legs wide, he's lifted you onto his bed, your hands grip the red velvet comforter, you're whimpering when he kisses up your thigh, he still has a little tail of blood on his chin, as he parts your puffy lips, watching your arousal drool out of your little hole. 'S-Satoru, I...' 'shh baby, lemme taste you, feel how much you want me, all over m'face'

Vampire! Gojo starts lapping at you with his insanely talented tongue, swiping up all the wetness there, your hips arch up for more and more, you grab his silky white locks, head falling back, eyes rolling in pleasure as he drinks your wetness. His surprisingly sharp nails press into your inner thighs, until there are red marks, little wounds, they sting as he presses in, chuckling at causing his pretty bride (well you will be) pain, while sucking your little clit in his hot mouth.

Vampire! Gojo has you cumming so quick it's stupid, your thighs are shaking on either side of his head, he's humming on your clit, two fingers sinking into your eager hole, pressing up on that little spot, intensifying your orgasm. You are gushing all over his face, whimpering when he finally leans up, grinning. 'this is where you're weak, huh baby?' he presses up again on your spot, you're dripping down his hands, tears pricking your eyes.

Vampire! Gojo has waited so long to fuck you, to shove all nine inches so fucking deep in your pussy, to smirk as you try to take it, he kisses down your neck, fucking you deeper, leaky tip slamming your cervix, your walls fluttering around his thick veiny cock. 't-too much, s'too much... T-Toru!' he moans at that, at feeling you convulse under him, spreading your thighs wider, your heels press into the muscles in his lower back as he fucks into you.

Vampire! Gojo who whispers 'you're mine, got it baby?' you don't answer, you gasp instead, because he's biting you, sucking your blood into his throat greedily. 'god no one tastes this good, so fuckin' yummy' 'ngh!' 'hah, can't even fucking talk, can you?' you're cumming while he's sucking your blood out of those two little teeth marks, your little nails pressing into his marble, perfect skin, feeling him stuff you so full, too full.

Vampire! Gojo pulls back, looking down at the mess you are, he licks his lips and grins, he's terrifyingly beautiful, he's terrifying, but you can't even be afraid, because you are his. 'aww you're crying?' 's'much I... can't... ah!' you're pressed now, folded in half under him, as he looks at what is his, 'oh baby gonna fill you s'good, you're all mine, say it baby' 'y-yours'

Vampire! Gojo who smiles as he cleans you up in the bath later, knowing he's marked you forever, and you have no choice but to be his, you were always supposed to be.

Vampire Gojo WIP coming soon - Here

[thewritingrowlet]

The Tireless Wife, ft. Red Velvet Irene

tags: creampie, deepthroat—you know what, just read the whole thing, hm?

length: 8k+

author's note: I speedran this fic so please forgive me if it's too messy; I just wanted to make use of this free time.

p.s. this fic takes place before and after The Determined Wife.

-

Irene walks in the bedroom as you’re gathering your consciousness after a very good, post-sex sleep. “Ah, good morning, my love.” She high steps towards the bed to join you, taking her rightful place in your arms. “Love, on a scale of 1 to 10, how awake are you?” “Seven, probably.” You rub your eyes to see if maybe you can improve that score. “Okay, maybe eight and a half,” you revise.

Irene thinks that it’s not good enough; she wants you to be 100% in the right mind this morning, which is odd. She sits on your lap and starts kissing you passionately, seemingly in high spirits; she’s likely very satisfied with the fact that you’ve granted her wish to be bred.

“Tell me again.” “Nine and a half,” you tease. Your wife rolls her eyes. “Ugh, please don’t play hard to get.” You chuckle. “Aww, come on, love; I just want more kisses.” She puts on the beautiful smile that’s unique to her and only her. “Ah, fine, you win.”

She comes in for one more deep kiss, going as far as invading the space of your mouth with her tongue—it’s unfortunate that she breaks it soon after, though. “If that didn’t make it 10, I’m going to suck you off,” she says. “Sounds tempting,” you tease, “well, maybe later—let’s get to your point first.”

With a smile, Irene fishes something out of her shorts pocket and hands it to you with a closed palm. It is only when she lets go that you can see what it is: a pregnancy test device with two lines on it. “I’m a mother, love,” Irene starts breaking into tears, “I’m a mother, and there’s no question that you’re the father.”

Tears, endless of them, start flowing freely out of your eyes and onto your cheeks. “Y-you’re pregnant, my love?” Your grip on the little test kit weakens as your hand starts trembling—oh, look: a tear lands on the device, right where the little screen is. “I am,” Irene joins you in crying, “thank you for granting my wish.”

You put the small device to the side because you want to use your hands to hug your wife. “No, no, no,” you say, “thank you for giving me such a huge blessing.” Irene starts crying more freely, and you can’t help but do the same. “We’re going to become parents, love—isn’t that crazy?” “It is,” you agree with her, “thank you for making it possible for us, love.”

Irene pulls away from the hug, placing her hands on your shoulders instead. “You need to get ready for work, don’t you, love—let me start your shower.” You shake your head. “Screw work,” you say, “I want to spend this wonderful day with you and only you.” Your words draw a wide smile on her face. “Sounds great, love.”

She turns around before leaning against your chest, placing your hand right on her stomach that’s now occupied by the little one—your little one (the fetus hasn’t formed yet, yes, but the point still stands). Irene giggles as you rub her belly gently. “You’ll need to come up with some names, love.” “You first,” you say, “do you have ideas?” She taps her chin as she thinks of a candidate. “Jihoon-ie if it’s a boy, and Hyewon-ie if it’s a girl.”

You’re a little startled; Jihoon was the name of your little brother who passed away just before he turned 9 years old (you were 13 at the time) due to cardiac arrest. Your parents, specifically your mom, took his passing heavily, falling into what you learned years later as depression, which explained why they weren’t at home a lot—they were busy seeking help from professionals, both at home and abroad.

Irene knows about this story, obviously; you’ve taken her to his resting place a few times. “His memories can live on with our child, love,” she explains the reason behind the idea. “I’m glad that you have that idea, but personally, I think I’d let him rest,” you say, and Irene dares not argue.

“What about your ideas, love?” You take a few deep breaths as you try to come up with some names. “I don’t have any boy names in my head, but Yeseo if it’s a girl,” you say. Irene likes your idea; she thinks that it’s such a pretty and cute name for a girl. “Well, we’ll need to wait until they can tell if we’re having a son or a daughter.”

-

Mr. Hwang, the cook, has made some fettuccine for breakfast, since Irene said that she’s been craving pasta—a pregnant woman shall have what she wants. So, here you are: sitting at the table in the dining room with Irene, ready to fill your stomach with this tasty-looking dish.

Seeing the tall glass of water reminds you of something important that you want to address with Irene. “My love,” you place a hand over hers, “now that we’re going to become parents, let’s stop drinking alcohol, hm?” She nods enthusiastically. “I was about to suggest that idea to you, hon.” You smile. “I’m glad that we’re on the same page.” “About that, though,” she backtracks, “what about our collection? We have some nice wine and champagne.”

You ring the kitchen bell, and Mr. Hwang appears after a few seconds. “Yes, sir?” “Do you drink, Mr. Hwang?” “I do, sir, occasionally,” he admits. “Nice,” you put on a thumbs-up, “would you like to keep our liquor collection? We want to stop drinking now that we’re expecting.” His eyes widen in surprise. “I would be honored, sir, but as far as I know, they’re expensive.” You smile kindly while placing a hand on the side of his arm. “The only thing I care about, Mr. Hwang, is my wife and my child’s health—I don’t care about those bottles.” “If you say so—oh, and congratulations on the pregnancy, sir.”

After convincing Mr. Hwang to keep your collection of liquor for himself, you return to your wife. “Mr. Hwang will take care of those bottles, love; we won’t have to throw them out,” you inform her. “Erm, actually,” says Irene, “can we give the Masseto to my parents, love?” You agree with her request, thus officially marking the start of the transition to a clear-headed life without alcohol.

-

You invite Irene to join you on the sofa because you think that you have some things to discuss with her. “What do you want to talk about, love?” “Which hospital do you want, and how do you want to deliver the baby?” After thinking about it for a while, Irene says she wants to try delivering without surgery but is open to it as the last option. As for the hospital, she chooses the Sacred Heart Hospital, which is a very good hospital that’s also not too far from your house.

“Next up, our stuff,” you say, making Irene confused. “What do you mean?” “Well, we’re going to need a new car; I don’t think transporting the 3 of us in that 911 or your Genesis is a good idea.” “Do you want to sell the 911?” No, you don’t want to; Irene bought that silver speedster as a birthday present for you. “I was thinking that we should just buy a new one—something that can accommodate us and our child comfortably.” She pulls out her phone to search for options, but you stop her. “That doesn’t have to happen today, love,” you say, “we can think about that later on; I was just trying to get it out there, you know.”

Irene moves to sit on your lap. “I have some things to ask from you, love,” she starts on a new subject, “tell me what you think about them, okay?” You nod to get her to continue. “First, whenever possible, please come home early and don’t spend too much time working.” You say yes without hesitation, which satisfies her. Work will always be there, but your child’s growth and other important moments only happen once—wouldn’t want to miss your child’s first word or first step, would you?

“Second,” she puts up two fingers in front of your eyes, “please have mercy on me when we have sex.” You ask her to elaborate further. “I know that we can get rough sometimes, so let’s turn it down a bit to make sure the child isn’t in danger or anything.” “What about the frequency?” You take your turn to ask. “Just the usual, please; I’ll tell you when I want it, and you can tell me when you want it.” Again, without hesitation, you agree to her terms, which apparently serves as a segue for her next point.

“Can I have you, love?” You grin as you feel your cock getting hard. “You certainly can, love—can I have you as well?” Irene giggles cutely. “That goes hand-in-hand, doesn’t it?” “Just wanted to make sure, baby.”

Because of the time and day, there are other people in the house (i.e. the cook and the cleaning staff), so the only place you can have sex in is the bedroom. On your way to the bedroom with Irene in your arms, she taps your chin to get your attention. “Love, Miss Jo wants to take a leave to visit her parents,” she says. “We’ll go out later and get her some stuff to take home.”

You set Irene gently onto the bed in compliance with her request to take things easier during sex. “Ah, my gentle giant,” she comments. She hasn’t used that nickname in quite some time, now that you think about it. That name was given to you by your fellow student council members (including Irene) back in university when you refused to beat up a toilet peeper and would rather have him formally punished by the university and charged by the victims. “I thought you’ve forgotten that name.” She lets out a giggle. “How can I forget, love?”

You come in for a kiss to indicate that you’ve had enough chatter, and Irene welcomes you warmly as usual. “Please, love,” she gulps, “please start already.” You reach for her pajama top and undo the first button. “Patience, baby; I still need to undress you.” She cooperates by undoing her top starting from the bottom button and meeting you halfway. “There, I helped,” she says, making you laugh a little. She then proceeds to pull down her shorts just as you’re about to ask her.

Your gaze lands on her firm belly where your child is being safely kept. “I hope you won’t hate me when my stomach gets bigger.” You shake your head rapidly. “There’s no way I’d hate you for that—you’re my wife and that’s our child in your belly,” you say, and you see that Irene’s eyes are threatening to burst.

You join her in bed after undressing yourself and after she has taken off her underwear. You then pull her into a hug and peck her head everywhere, making her let out that lovely laugh that’s special to her. Once you stop, she places her hands on each side of your face. “I swear on everything I have that I’m so glad that I ended up with you and not with that Kim Junghwan guy.” “He never deserved you,” you say, demeaning. “That is true,” she agrees with you, “you and only you, love.”

You take the bottom position today, letting Irene have her way with you. “I have a feeling that I’d not be able to ride you as well with a big belly,” she comments as she moves to sit on your lap. You’re starting to get ticked off, but at the same time, she’s coming from a good place, so for now, you simply let out a sigh. “Love, please don’t worry about the sex; we’ll adapt as the pregnancy continues. Just focus on your health and stress levels, please.” Irene places her hands on her chest. “That’s touching, love—thank you.”

With your cock in hand, she aims it at her entrance. “Here I go,” she notifies you, as if you couldn’t see what she’s doing. Irene slowly goes down on your shaft, hugging it with her tight and warm walls. You breathe deeply as she starts moving up and down. “Fuck, that’s good,” you praise her to rile her up. “Yeah, daddy?” There it is: the kink that you love the most—Irene has always been quick to use it.

Irene bends backwards slightly and fixes her grip on your knees. After making sure that she’s steady, she starts moving faster on your cock, and you desperately want to hold those bouncing plump tits of hers. “Daddy, daddy,” she chants, “oh, you’re so deep in me, daddy.” “Keep it up, baby—fuck, you’re doing so well.”

Irene might not be the best at working out, but damn is she good at managing her stamina during sex; it feels like she has this extra battery pack that’s specifically used for sex, and as long as praises and words of affirmation keep flowing out of your lips, that battery will never die.

“Oh, no, daddy,” she slows down a little, “I think I’m about to cum.” “I don’t see the problem with that.” You slap her butt a few times to get her to speed up again. “Go on, baby; be good and cum for me.” Irene nods and picks up the pace again, trying to adhere to your command to “be good.”

Irene’s thighs shake violently when her first orgasm hits while her walls are gripping your shaft very tightly, making it very hard to you to not just bust right here. You pull her towards you and hug her. “Good job, love—very good job.” “You—oh, you always bring the best out of me, daddy,” she replies despite the heavy pants. “I can say the same about you, love,” you whisper back.

Without retreating from her pussy, you roll over until you’re the one on top. “You’re so sweaty, love,” you comment while wiping her forehead, “that must’ve been exhausting for you.” Irene shakes her head feebly. “A-anything to make you happy, daddy.” The way she always puts your pleasure as the top priority is touching. “Alright, let’s take a breather first, okay?”

“Take a breather,” you say, but you’re still slowly moving back and forth in her pussy, making her let out soft moans despite the exhaustion. “Ha-have mercy—please, daddy,” she utters faintly, almost too quiet to reach your ears. “Don’t worry, baby; I’m being gentle.”

As you keep fucking her like this, you can feel your orgasm inching closer, so you pause for now. “Okay, I’m going to stop here—I don’t want to cum without your full attention.” “B-but you have my attention, daddy.” You chuckle. “Your eyes are barely open, love.” When you see her opening her mouth to make an argument, you quickly lean in for a kiss to interrupt her. “Relax, love, we have all day.”

You’ve spent the last few minutes kissing (while still being inside her), and Irene is the first to break it. “When are you going to give me your cum, daddy?” You assess that she has recovered enough for you to finish this, so to answer her, “Right now.” You straighten your back and prepare to start. “Where do you want it, love?” Irene scoffs. “Where else?” “But what about your career?” The callback to the career vs. child argument makes her laugh. “I’m literally pregnant right now, in case you forgot—fill me however much you want, daddy.”

You place her legs together on one side of your shoulder and start fucking her. Irene promptly places her hands on her tits, doing whatever she can to add more stimulation on top of that you’re giving her. “Daddy, you’re close, aren’t you? I can feel it, you know.” You let out a hum to answer her. “Give it to me whenever, daddy.”

You fasten your grip on her legs as you turn up the pace to the maximum of your ability. Your wife has now been reduced to moans and screams; she no longer has the headspace to play with her tits and instead just puts her hands on each side of her head.

“Love, I—” Before you can finish your sentence, semen escapes your shaft and enters her body, making her let out a long, sensual moan because of the warmth. “Oh, daddy,” she gasps, “oh, God, you’ve filled me again.” You let go of her legs and fall limply onto her body. “I love you, baby,” you say right into her ear. “I love you more, daddy.”

-

As you roll closer towards your house, you see your wife patiently waiting for you in the front garden among the flowers. She turns her head and puts on a smile for you, and you swear to God that exhaustion and stress from work has been taken away, and along with it, your breath.

You quickly jump out of your car, stumbling on your own leg in the process. “Welcome home, love,” she greets you with open arms. You take your rightful spot in her arms, and you can feel her belly bump against yours. “Tired, love?” “I was but not anymore,” you say. “It’s like magic, isn’t it—the moment you see your significant other, everything else just disappears.” “Absolutely,” you agree with her.

Irene invites you to sit on the garden bench with her, but you opt to take a knee in front of her instead. You rub her belly gently to greet your little one, and Irene looks at you with a smile of approval. “I want to say that I’m tired, but it doesn’t feel right.” You furrow your eyebrows. “Why not?” “I mean, it’s you who went to work, not me.” “That’s absurd; you might be at home, but I imagine being pregnant is tiring.” You can tell that she wants to make another argument, but the way you’re looking at her right in the eyes makes her bury that intention.

“Have you eaten, by the way?” Irene nods. “I asked Mr. Hwang to make me lentil soup for lunch.” Lentil soup sounds nice and healthy, which is important for a pregnant woman. “It was so delicious, by the way.” You laugh. “He’d be in deep trouble if it wasn’t.”

You think that this is enough catching up for now and that it’s time to get into the house, so you carry her inside safely. Irene says she wants to watch TV because she’s “tired of being in the bedroom,” so you put her down on the sofa and hand her the remote. You then tell her that you’ll join her after taking a quick shower.

When you get back to the living room to join her, you see that Irene is watching this little documentary on Giethoorn, this beautiful hamlet in the Netherlands where rivers run everywhere. She keeps letting out wows as shots of the area are shown on screen, deeply immersed in the show. “Do you think we can move there one day, love?” “Oh, man, I hope so; that looks like a really nice place to live in.” Irene turns your head towards you. “Maybe if we can’t live in the Netherlands, we can live in some quieter place instead—Damyang or Jinhae, perhaps?” You smile at her. “We’ll see what we can do, alright?” Not satisfied with just words, she makes you make a pinky promise that you’ll seriously consider it.

-

You didn’t know that you fell asleep, only waking up because you feel soft pokes on your thigh.

“Hngh?”

“Love, you’re tired, aren’t you?”

“A little.”

“Please, that doesn’t look like a little.”

“A little lot, perhaps,” you change your answer.

“I was going to invite you to sleep, but you haven’t eaten yet.”

“That’s fine, love.”

“No, it’s not fine—do you want to have food delivered here?”

“Eh, sure,” you accept her offer, “order something light for me, please.”

Irene doesn’t say anything, presumably busy scrolling through the food delivery app to find something for you. “Light, light, light—what’s something that’s light?” “A lamp—haha, get it?” Irene slaps your thigh for your joke. “Daddy is really funny, isn’t he, Hyewon-ah?” Hearing your wife say that name startles you a tad. “Hyewon-ah? Really?” “I don’t know,” Irene shrugs, “I just like that name.” “Oh, I thought we’ve found out if we’re having a daughter.”

Irene focuses on ordering food again, and something finally catches her fancy. “What about some toast, love?” “What toast?” She shows you the available options, from peanut butter toast to kimchi and cheese toast. “Get me one peanut butter toast, please.” She says that it’s a better deal to order at least 3 toasts, so she adds some other toast to the order. “It’ll be here in around 45 minutes, love.” You thank her for the help and then invite her to rest her head on your lap.

“Love me, please,” she says in this aegyo-esque voice. You bend down and peck her on the forehead. “Anything specific, love?” Irene opens and closes her mouth a few times, seemingly trying to judge if she should speak her mind. “You’re so tired, though,” she utters, and you can already tell what she’s getting at. “You want me between your legs, don’t you?” Your wife covers her red face. “W-well, if you put it like that…” “We’ll wait until I have some food in my stomach and see how we can proceed—do we have a deal?” “Yes, deal!” The way her voice cracks makes you laugh. “My, my, aren’t you a cutie?”

-

The toasts are here: you’ve grabbed the bag from the delivery man and put it on the living room table.

You pick up the box with the text “PB” written on it. Irene says that she has bought some toast from this place before and hopes that you’ll like it like she does. You nod in satisfaction after taking the first bite. “I think I know what brand of peanut butter this is,” you comment. She scratches her head in cluelessness. “I don’t know, love; they all taste the same to me.”

You notice that Irene has two hands on top of each other on her stomach and keeps licking her lips while watching you eat. “Want to have a bite, lovely?” She nods timidly. “It looks so good,” she admits, “b-but I don’t know if I should eat.” You tilt your head in confusion. “Why not?” “Erm, I think that’s ultra-processed food—that’s one. Two, I don’t want to gain too much weight.” Weight can be quite a sensitive subject, especially considering that your wife has always been paying close attention to it.

You keep chewing as you think of a reasonable answer—well, here it goes: “I’m sure that you have good intentions, but I’m almost certain that one toast won’t hurt you or Hyewon-ie.” You can tell that she’s starting to get swayed, as proven by how she has a box with “CHOCO” written on it in her hands. “Forgive me, Hyewon-ah, but I really want this toast.”

You panic a little when Irene sheds a tear after taking a bite. “Oh my, are you okay, love?” She nods again. “T-this is so good, but I feel so guilty for eating this—oh, I’m so sorry, Hyewon-ah.” You put down your and her toast on the table so that you can hold her hands. “Love, love,” you try to get her to focus on you, “it’s okay, no one is yelling at you for eating one toast—not me, not Doctor Shin, and certainly not Hyewon-ie.” “A-are you sure?” “Yes,” you say in a resolute tone. “We’ll be just fine, trust me.”

Feeling decently comforted and assured by your words, Irene asks if she can have her toast again, so you give it back to her. You make sure you don’t forget to wipe that random tear off her cheek while you’re at it. “Thank you,” she utters softly. “You’re welcome, my love,” you say equally softly.

-

After finishing those tasty and quite filling toast, Irene asks if she can have you between her legs, so you stand up from your seat and stretch your body to warm up. “I apologize in advance if I finish too fast; I’m kind of tired.” Your wife shakes her head. “As long as your load is mine, I don’t really see the problem with finishing fast—I’ll probably finish before you, anyway.”

There’s only you and your wife in this house right now, but that doesn’t change the fact that sex should only happen in the bedroom for the next 6 to 7 months; it’s more comfortable for her and safer for your child.

After getting undressed, Irene asks to be helped sit on the stool that she prepared earlier today. “It seems like you have an idea,” you comment. “Yes,” she says, “I want you back there.” “What happened to turning it down?” “This isn’t our first time, is it—just remember to be gentle.”

You open the bedside drawer to find the lube and see that it’s not there. “We don’t have lube?” Irene looks away to hide her red cheeks. “Erm, I might or might not have used it earlier.” You furrow your eyebrows. “You used it? For what?” She shyly admits that she fucked herself in the rear with a dildo this afternoon. “I-I wanted to prepare for you, because I know you like it when I think ahead.”

It’s not strange or new to you that your wife is lustful; you’ve known that for years at this point. That said, you’d think that being pregnant would turn that lustfulness down, but it doesn’t seem like it so far—in fact, it feels like she’s more lustful than ever.

You stand in front of her and hold her chin. “Oh, love, what would you do without me—who could satisfy you if not me?” “I don’t know, daddy; it’s always been you since day one.” You reward her with a kiss for answering correctly. “May I, then?” Irene giggles slightly. “Certainly.”

You walk around and look for your target. “I’m pulling this plug out, alright?” After getting a nod of approval from your wife, you gently tug on the plug. “Ngh!” Irene clenches her fists when she feels her rear being stretched by the wide part of the plug. “Relax, love—it’s almost out.” With a pop, the plug is finally out of her tight ass, and you quickly put your mouth on it for the first time ever in this marriage, making your wife gasp in shock. “Daddy, no, I’m dirty there.”

You ignore her and keep running your tongue on her puckered hole; quite fun, you must admit. Occasionally, you try parting her cheeks apart so that you can put the tip of your tongue in her rear.

Feeling weak, Irene starts tumbling forwards, but you catch her just in time to save her from going face first onto the floor. “God, you’re so crazy, daddy.” “Your new task, baby, is to keep it clean all the time—is that clear?” Irene nods in obedience. “Y-yes, sir; I will try my best.” You squeeze her butt cheek lightly. “Good girl,” you praise her.

You get on your feet and hug the panting woman from behind. “Are you alright?” “Y-yes—fuck, you’re fucking crazy.” You pinch a nipple, more surprising than painful. “That’s not how you speak to me, woman.” “S-sorry, sir, b-but you are indeed crazy.” You kiss her on the back of the head. “I hope you didn’t mind, by the way.” Your wife shakes her head. “Not—oh, not at all.”

“Sir, daddy,” Irene can’t choose between the two, “would you fuck my ass, please?” “Thought you’d never ask, baby.” You stroke your shaft to make sure that it’s properly hard and ready while your wife spreads her butt cheeks to give you access. You place the tip right on the entrance of her forbidden hole. “Are you ready, baby?” “Yes—oh, God, fuck, yes.”

You waste little time and go deep right away into her warmed-up hole. “Fuck, you’re always so tight right here.” “Hngh! Ngh!” Irene can only let out grunts as she’s getting overwhelmed by the stimulation you’re giving her. “No one can touch you like I do, hm?” She shakes her head weakly as a response, still unable to say anything back.

You hook her arms backwards as you get ready to fuck her to make sure she doesn’t fall off the stool. “I’m yours, daddy—fuck me however you want,” she says, as if it was ever a question. “Bet.”

With this steady posture, you start fucking her ass roughly, forcing Irene to scream with each thrust delivered. “My husband is fucking amazing—Hyewon-ah, daddy is fucking amazing,” Irene thinks as the sounds of your hips crashing against her butt enter her ears.

As time goes on, everything starts to get blurry for Irene, and it doesn’t help that from this position, she has no control over how fast you’re fucking her. “P-please stop,” she says weakly, hoping that it’ll still reach your ears amongst the clapping sounds. It doesn’t seem like you heard her, though; you’re still fucking her ass recklessly, which leaves her no other choice but to just yell out loud. “DADDY, STOP—PLEASE!” Hearing her scream makes you stop abruptly with more than half your shaft still lodged in her ass. “Daddy, please, let me breathe,” Irene begs.

Still panting, you gently retreat from her gaped ass. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” you just realize how rough you’ve been. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry, love,” you repeat to show sincerity. You pull her into your arms and take a seat on the edge of the bed, and the sight of your wife crying (from getting fucked in the ass, nonetheless) twists your heart like nothing else. You keep repeating apologies while rubbing her stomach gently, hoping that doing so could also tell Hyewon that you’re regretful of your actions.

Irene feebly reaches for your face. “I-it’s okay; it was good until it became overwhelming, daddy.” You lie her down on her side and inspect the result of your recklessness—it seems like she didn’t get injured by your shaft. “I think you’re fine, baby.” “Great,” she replies, “so what are you waiting for?” You blink rapidly in confusion. “I thought you were in pain?” “I never said that,” she shrugs. Seeing that you’re silent, Irene piles on. “C’mon, look at yourself, daddy: you’re still hard and ready to fuck me—let me finish the job, please.” “Fine,” you give up, “I’m not getting in your ass again, though.”

Irene says that you have a deal and asks you to lie down so that she can take control, which is fine by you; you’ve had enough “fun” being dominant tonight. You keep an eye on your wife as she aims your shaft towards her entrance from the cowgirl position. You grit your teeth when Irene slowly sits down on your cock—you’re in her ass again. “Oh, fuck, welcome back, daddy.” “I thought we had a deal.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Irene deflects, “anyway, I hope you enjoy the ride, hihihi.”

Irene rests her subtly bulged belly on your body while her hips are busy bouncing up and down along your length. She keeps chanting “you’re in my ass” as if you can’t tell that you are indeed in her ass. You reach around and slap her butt. “Go faster.” Having planted her hands on your chest, Irene tries to bounce faster on your cock. “Oh, oh, yes—how’s this, daddy?” It’s you who can’t respond this time; just like earlier, the way her muscles are squeezing you prevents you from thinking straight and coming up with words to say.

You rest your head on the pillow while your wife is busy fucking herself on your cock (while moaning so freaking freely), and for some reason, your eyelids feel like they weighed 100 kilograms—what the hell are they so heavy for? “You must be close, daddy,” Irene makes a keen observation. “Uh-huh,” are all that escape your lips. Hearing that you’re close serves as fuel for Irene to keep up the tempo and make you bust with her ass; this tireless woman can be very crazy in bed, pregnant or not.

“Love, I’m about to—oh, fuck, I’m about to bust,” you warn her. “Yeah?” Her voice is barely heard thanks to the endless clapping noises. You grip the pillow your head is resting on as your cock starts twitching wildly in her rear. “Baby, please,” you let your desperation to cum be known to her.

Irene slams herself down onto your body, and you instantly erupt, surprising the both of you at the same time. She throws her head back as your warm semen floods her ass. “Oh, oh, yes, daddy.” It was her who did all the work, but it’s you who’s panting heavily.

“Love, thank you so much.” Irene removes you from her ass and lies down next to you. “Even when tired, you’re still so strong,” she praises while her hand runs along your length. “What’s your secret, daddy?” “You’re my secret; if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be like this.” You let out a low moan when your wife manages to squeeze the last bit of semen out of you. “You’re so cute, you know that?” You chuckle. “No, I don’t.”

-

It feels odd to not have Irene welcome you at the driveway, especially since she’s been doing that consistently for the past few weeks, too. Her Genesis is parked neatly in the usual spot, so she must be at home, but where is she?

“I’m home.” You close the door behind you and scan your surroundings—still no sign of your wife, making you wonder if perhaps she’s asleep. You make your way towards the bedroom, and your jaw drops immediately when you see her kneeling on the floor while being almost entirely naked. Irene buckles a little, presumably because she feels a fetus kick. “Even Hyewon-ie doesn’t approve,” you comment.

You rub the side of her face gently. “What on God’s green earth are you trying to do, love?” The ball gag in her mouth prevents her from answering, but she has this little spanker in her hands that she’s trying to hand over to you. “Love, please, what are you doing?” Irene just looks at your feet while her hands are on her thighs. “This isn’t how a woman in her second trimester is supposed to behave, is it?” You close your eyes and take a few deep breaths to get yourself together. “Fine, I’ll play your game.”

Your wife steals some glances as you undress in front of her, and when you’re finished, you take the time to take off her bra, exposing her tits that you swear have grown bigger recently. You then lift her onto her feet to remove her panties, and Irene instantly drops back down onto the floor after you’re done. “Oh, you’re that serious, aren’t you?”

You pick up the slim paddle from the floor and prepare to swing. “Wait, where do I hit her?” You look for places to hit her on, but the more you think about it, the more that you don’t want to do it. That said, you imagine that it’d disappoint her if you chicken out, so you decide to play along until she taps out.

You hit her on the right shoulder once. “Ngh!” Irene lets out a yelp of surprise when the paddle lands. “That’s one.” You move the paddle to your other hand and hit her on the left shoulder. “I’ll count until 29, okay?” Irene nods in response, and that’s when you look for other targets.

You ask her to show you her palms and hit them successively. “Any ideas?” Your wife taps her thighs, indicating that she wants to be hit there, so you hit those two spots, harder than you’d like to admit, making her grunt in pain. “Sorry.” That sounds less sincere than you’d like, but it’s okay, you’ll make it up to her later.

Before you continue, you join her on the floor and unlatch the gag. “This doesn’t look comfortable, so I’m taking it off,” you say. Irene relaxes her mouth now that she’s free. “Thank you, master.” You sigh. “Master? Really?” Irene nods enthusiastically. “Yes, master.”

You stand back up and swing at her tender breasts out of nowhere. “Fucking naughty, aren’t you?” As Irene opens her mouth to say something, you hit her breasts again. “You’re pregnant, and this is how you fucking act? Explain yourself.” You tell her to explain herself, but you don’t give her the chance to do so, interrupting her with a hit on the forearm. “M-master, please.” “Please what?” You subconsciously raise your tone. “Please punish me; I-I’ve been naughty.” You roll your eyes. “Fuck it, we’re going back to zero.”

You hit her on different places in rapid succession, and Irene screams after each one. “How many?” “S-six, master.” “Good,” you praise her emptily, “count to 18, slut.” You initially chose 29, which is the date she was born, but changed it to 18, which is the date you were born. As much as you’re putting on a cold charade for her, you don’t have the heart to hit her 29 fucking times.

You tell her to get on her hands and knees to expose other parts of her body. You smack her on the back a few times before moving on to her butt and hitting it a few more times. “How many?” Irene chokes up momentarily before she manages to get her answer out. “T-twelve, sir.”

To end the show, you give her some hard hits on the back of her thighs. “E-eighteen, master.” “On your knees,” you command, and Irene obeys right away. “Explain yourself, or else.” “I-I was just trying new stuff,” she says. “Is that it?” Irene just nods, and you can’t help but sigh, feeling somewhat frustrated by her simple answer.

“Love, be honest with me: why are you acting like this?” After taking a deep breath, Irene proceeds to explain the whole thing, from how she tore the left rear tire of her car against an elevated curb while trying to pull into a gas station this afternoon, to the fact that she touched herself thrice while thinking about you. “L-like I said, I’ve been very naughty.” You exhale deeply. “Those few things don’t require punishment—especially not of this sort.” Your wife shakes her head. “But I want to be punished,” she insists.

“Have you had enough, or what?” Irene slowly shifts her gaze to meet yours, and you know that she knows that you’re aroused, as shown by your erect cock. “Do whatever you please, master,” she says, hiding her excitement behind the façade of obedience.

Still kneeling in front of you, Irene eases you into her mouth. You place a hand on the back of her head and pull her towards you, forcing your cock deeper. She’s taken you deep plenty of times, so this is neither new nor difficult for her. “Hold it there and count to 10.” After finishing her count, Irene retreats until only your tip is in her mouth. “Very good—now do it 9 more times.”

Irene does as you command, doing each repetition passionately, much to your satisfaction. “That’s very good, love,” you make sure you don’t forget to praise her. You retreat from her wet mouth to let her breathe, and she promptly inhales sharply. “I-I hope I did well, sir.” You smile kindly. “Of course; you always do everything so well.”

You take a seat on the edge of the bed while you wait for Irene to get herself together. “Anything else, master?” A lit bulb appears over your head. “Is it just me, love, or have your breasts gotten bigger?” She takes a quick look at herself. “I-I think they have indeed grown, master.” “They look so soft, don’t you think?” She nods to your question. “Would you like to touch them, sir?” “I have a better idea,” you say, “put them around my cock.”

Irene crawls towards you and places your cock right between her extra plump tits. “Like this, sir?” You moan in a low voice as your shaft grinds against her tits. “You—oh, fuck, you’re so good at every-fucking-thing.” Your wife blushes. “I aim to please, master.” “Oh, trust me, I’m very pleased right now, love.”

Much to your pleasure, Irene presses her chin against her chest and catches your tip with her mouth every time it pokes through her tits. You pet her head gently. “Good fucking job, baby—fuck, I’m about to bust.” “Please, give me your cum, master.” Irene moves her tits faster, eager to have your first load of the day.

You throw your head back and close your eyes as semen spurts out of the tip of your cock, landing all over her face and chest. “Oh my, very thick,” she comments. “I love how you taste, master; your diet works well for me too, you know.” You chuckle. “Good to know, baby.”

You invite Irene to lie down in bed with you. “You haven’t cum yet.” “Yes, I have; I told you I touched myself a lot today.” You get your tie from the messy pile of clothes. “Hands above your head, please.” She puts her hands together above her head, and you tie them together. “Are we ready?” Irene looks at you nervously. “Please have mercy, master; I’ve had a lot of orgasm today.” “That wasn’t my doing, was it?”

Irene gasps in shock when she feels your hand on her little nub. “Sensitive much?” “Please, master.” “Please what, baby?” “I need to cum again, master—make me cum with your hands, please.” “Well, since you asked so nicely.” You use one hand to stimulate her nub and use the other to play with her tits, going fast and fervent right from the gate.

In the moment of high stimulation, Irene accidentally kicks you in the head—how did that even happen? “That’s not nice.” “I-I—fuck, I’m so sorry, master. I didn’t mean it.” “That’s strike one, Miss Bae,” you warn. To punish her behavior, you increase the intensity of stimulation on her pussy, making her jolt around more. It’s fine if she were to kick you again; you have some more ideas in your head to get her back.

Your wife keeps moaning loudly and freely as her fourth orgasm looms ahead. “Master, master,” Irene begs for your attention, “I won’t last too long, master.” “Oh, is that so?” You plunge two fingers into her pussy and finger-fuck her, and Irene can’t help but moan, possibly until her voice disappears.

Your hand starts getting tired, but as timing has it, she’s also very, very close to orgasm. With an ear-piercing scream, Irene explodes: her legs are shaking violently, and her juice is coming out torrentially. “Very, very good, my love—you’re such a big bomb, aren’t you?” You free her hands and move to barrage her sweaty head with pecks. “We’ll wait until you’re relaxed before doing anything else, alright?”

Amid all this, you notice that you’re getting rock hard again. You start stroking your cock with the sight of your naked wife in front of you. Irene, in her exhausted state, looks at you. “Don’t waste your cum,” she says vaguely. “What do you mean?” “Put it somewhere in me, master,” she clarifies. You stop for a moment. “You’re very exhausted, love. I don’t want to burden you with more sex.” Your wife shakes her head. “I can take it, don’t worry.”

You take a position in between her legs, aiming your cock at her pussy in the process. You announce that you’re going in, and Irene moans weakly at the first contact. She tells you that you need to do all the work this, citing her exhaustion. “Never thought I’d hear such words from you; you’ve been tireless recently,” you say, earning a little chuckle from her.

You kiss her while your shaft goes in and out of her, dropping whatever charade you’ve been using these past few hours. “I love you, baby—I love you so fucking much.” “I-I love you more, hon—you’re the best for me.” Her warm words make you smile. “I’ll stay by your side until death do us part, my love.” “You have a deal.” You hug her tightly when your second load of the day enters her body.

“We’ll rest a bit, if that’s okay with you.” “Sure,” Irene says, “I can’t even stand up right now.”

-

You feel rapid taps on your chest, making you wake up crassly in surprise. When your eyes are open enough to provide vision, you see that your wife is seated in bed with Yeseo in her arms. “Yes, love?” Irene doesn’t answer your question and instead, starts breaking down in tears. “C-can you take care of her a little? I-I want to rest.”

You slap yourself as hard as you can for leaving your wife to sleep and, in turn, forcing her to tend to your child alone. “My goodness, I’m so sorry, love.” You open your hands to receive your daughter who is wrapped snug with a little blanket, and Irene immediately falls flat onto the bed—she’s still crying, though. “Go to sleep if you can, love; I’ll keep her safe.” “I’m such a bad mom,” she insults herself unnecessarily, “I can’t even stay up for my daughter.” “No, you’re not a bad mom—trust me, you’re not.” To offer her some peace, you tell her that you’ll be in the living room with Yeseo until morning. “I’ll see you later, okay?” You give her a peck as a parting gift.

“Yeseo-yah,” you whisper softly, “while mommy catches her breath, we’ll hang out in the living room, okay?” Having been born just a few weeks ago, Yeseo can’t respond much aside from a small head movement, which you’ll gladly accept as an answer. “We’re going to get along very well, aren’t we, sweetie?”

You turn on the TV to watch something in an attempt make sure you don’t fall asleep, and that’s when you see the time: 02:09 a.m. “We’re staying up late, sweetie—I hope you won’t make this a habit when you’re grown up,” you comment.

You make sure that the TV is muted so that it doesn’t startle your daughter when this video starts. “Oh my, look at that place, Yeseo-yah.” A shot of beautiful countryside scenery in Jeju steals your attention, and it’s very hard to resist the temptation to move there with your family. “What do you say we move there, sweetie?” Yeseo lets out a small squeal, and you guess that she’s interested in living there. “Aha, great minds think alike, hey?”

You remember your wife asking if the family can move to somewhere quieter to raise Yeseo in, and now that she’s actually here, you’re really contemplating the opportunity. In your head, you try to think about what work would be like if you lived in a place like Jeju, which is even farther from the big capital. Your brain suggests stepping down from your post and earning from dividends, which sounds like a sound idea. Irene had stepped down from her position of director of risk management two months before Yeseo was born, so it’s not the craziest idea to follow suit.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you and mommy, Yeseo-yah.” You want to say that you’re willing to die for them, but Irene’s words enter your mind: why die for family, if you can be healthy and stay by their side instead? You laugh a little as you recall that exchange. “Mommy is an amazing person, sweetie. Sometimes I can’t believe I ended up with her.”

-

Irene wakes up around 6 hours later, feeling somewhat refreshed after a decent night’s sleep. The first thing she does is obviously to check up on her husband and daughter.

“Look at you: sleeping with Yeseo in your hands.” Irene unlocks her phone and takes a picture of you sleeping with your mouth wide open while Yeseo is chilling in your arms. She gets teary eyes looking at this scene in the living room.

She never had the idea of being childfree and has taken a more neutral stance about it, but at the same time, having Yeseo is quite the surprise turn of her life.

Irene quietly joins you on the sofa to not disturb your peace. “Love, love,” she whispers, trying to get you to wake up, “wake up, please; it’s time for work.” “Screw work,” she hears you say, “I’m stepping down.” She knows that you’re referring to your job. “Are you sure?” “Yes,” you reply again, “we’re moving to Jeju.”

Before getting too excited, Irene makes sure you’re awake. “Love, seriously, wake up.” The way you’re suddenly looking at her with eyes wide open makes her jump. “Yes?” “Were you serious about moving to Jeju?” You nod. “I’ve talked with Yeseo about it, and she agreed.” Irene bursts out laughing, shaking her head in amusement. “Sure, she did.” “Just ask her yourself if you don’t believe me.”

She plays along with your joke and asks Yeseo about her opinion on moving out of the big city, to which she replies by crying out loud, taking the two of you by surprise. “What, what, what,” you panic, “is she hungry? She’s probably hungry, right?” Irene unbuttons her pajama to expose a nipple Yeseo can latch on, so you hand your daughter over to her to be breastfed.

“Sorry, love, but these tits aren’t solely yours anymore,” Irene quips. You start laughing out loud, finding it difficult to stop. “What—what are you talking about? Why did you say it like that?” Your wife joins you in laughing. “I don’t know—it just felt right to say it.” You shake your head, highly amused by your wife’s odd statement. “It’s fine; I’m totally content with sharing them with Yeseo,” you clarify.

-

You take one last look at your house that is now empty. “We spent a fortune on this house, didn’t we, love?” You nod in agreement. “It’s crazy how much we bought this place for,” you reply. “I hope you won’t regret moving out,” Irene expresses her concern. You look at her right in the eyes while your hands are on either side of her waist. “We’re doing this for Yeseo—this is bigger than just the two of us, love.”

You walk with her outside towards the driveway, where Yeseo’s stroller is parked. “Isn’t she so cute?” “She is,” you say, “I swear I will do and give everything for you and her.” Irene puts on a big smile.

“We’ll give her a good life and a bright future, love.”

“We absolutely will.”

[longing-for-the-past-times]

their reaction to you wearing a flavoured lipstick

task force 141 x reader headcanons

synopsis: headcanons of how would they react when the reader wears a flavoured lipstick/lip gloss/lip balm

notes: can you tell who is my favourite?

comments and reblogs are always appreciated🙈

warnings: mentions of smoking, occasional swearing, tooth-rotting fluff

find it on a03 masterlist

Captain 'John' Price - chocolate and red velvet

He may be slightly old-fashioned and love it when you wear red lipstick as he considers it a classy, but bold choice of colour

He is aware that you own more than one red lipstick, yet he secretly cannot differentiate one shade from another. Not that he'll ever let you know

That is until one day you visit him at work. He won't let it show, but he becomes jealous the second you walk in the base, your lips painted in a rich, velvety crimson. He cannot take his eyes off you, hypnotized by the captivating movement of your lips as you speak to him, telling him about your day and what you thought you should have for dinner.

John does not miss the hungry looks that are thrown across your way. He is quick to snake his hand around your waist and usher you to his office, where he could be the only one relishing in the allure the red lipstick cast over you-

"John, you're not really listening, are you?" your playful tone snaps him out of his reverie, a sheepish look plastered on his face.

"Love, did I ever tell you how much red lipstick suits you?"

"Only twice per day and more than ten times per night…" you roll your eyes at his antics, cupping his cheeks in your hands and planting a kiss at the corner of his lips, letting out a small giggle as his stubble tickled your lips.

"Well, I am headed home to get started on that dinner you didn't pay attention to!" you keep teasing him, amused by his dazzled expression. Little did you know, you had him wrapped around your finger.

"A…Alright, drive safe! I'll be there as soon as I finish this paperwork!"

Only he spends the next hour daydreaming about your red lips and the tender way they made contact with his skin, the phantom touch still lingering on the corner of his lips. Unconsciously, he traces his tongue over the place, freezing when he feels a mild flavour of chocolate.

He checks it once again, partially ashamed of the childish gesture. If any of his teammates caught him at that moment, they wouldn't let him live it down. But the subtle taste is there, sweet yet distant, almost as if it was teasing him.

The paperwork's long forgotten before he realizes it must be your lipstick. You might have told him that you found a new flavoured collection, but he had been too busy staring at your giddy figure to pay attention.

So he becomes a man with a plan and does not delay heading home anymore. The drive there seems endless, but it's all worth it the moment he opens the door and sees you standing by the kitchen counter, wearing the apron he gave you for Christmas

One second he's by the door, the next he's smashing his lips against yours, a small sigh of pleasure leaving him as he relishes in the now-intense aroma of chocolate.

"Warn an old man next time, will ya?"

From that day on, he starts calling you "chocolate". The pet name raises a few eyebrows here and there, but none of you are bothered by it. Not when you could tease him about his newly-found sweet tooth and he could lose himself in your delicate kisses.

Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley - strawberries and cigarettes

There are times when he becomes a heavy smoker, sitting on the balcony of your shared apartment and burning through a pack in one day while his mind is mulling over the previous or the next mission

In times like those, he has nothing against your presence, secretly enjoying when you lay his head atop his shoulder and hug him from behind, but he always refuses to kiss you afterwards, arguing that the acrid taste of cigarettes would gross you out

It definitely doesn't- it is an integral part of him that you'd come to accept and love- and now you couldn't live without it

Until one evening, you opt to sit across him, leaning your hands on the balcony railing, while your eyes wander over the city lights. Over the course of your relationship with Simon, you had grown used to his long bouts of silence, becoming accustomed to all of his telltale signs: his left eyebrow would twitch when he doesn't like something, his right foot would continuously tap against the ground when he is distressed.

Three cigarettes in, and his foot is reenacting Radetzky's March. He is utterly unaware of the amused glances you steal at him

"Something the matter, love?" you ask him in a sweet tone, trying to pull off your most innocent face.

"'s nothing", he begins hesitantly, his voice rough from not using it. "…just a little cold, I guess"

You have to turn your head away from him and back to the city, a satisfied smirk spreading on your face. Simon might have been the deadliest operator the Special Forces have had in a long time, but deep down he was also a touch-starved man who found solace and peace in your arms

When the foot tapping does not stop, you struggle to school your face into a neutral expression and turn towards him, your eyes melting at the sight of his dishevelled blonde hair and furrowed brow. He sheepishly looks up in your direction, a silent plea dancing in his chocolate eyes.

You stand and approach him slowly, stopping only when your faces are inches apart. His half-burnt cigarette is forgotten in the ashtray, the remnants of smoke in his breath fanning over your face.

His eyes hold a hundred unanswered questions: did he do something to upset you, did you grow sick of him, can he do anything to get you back; but they are all silenced when you lean in further, placing a gentle and intimate kiss on his lips

The unexpected gesture sends shivers of pleasure down his spine and he has to take a moment before cupping your cheeks in his hands and kissing you back, the way you deserve to be kissed

You chuckle in his mouth before pecking both his eyes and forehead and returning to your original position, your head resting in the crook of his neck as your arms engulf him in a warm hug

He opens his mouth to scold you for kissing him when he is smoking. In his mind, it is almost like he is tainting your presence with the stale smell of smoked cigarettes. But as the words form on his lips, he hesitates, his mind struggling to acknowledge the foreign taste on his tongue

He turns to look at you with a confused look on his face. It was October so there could be no strawberries at the market and the freezer was empty as you had eaten all ice cream when you were on your period-

So why did he taste strawberries on your kiss?

"I may have found a lip gloss from high school", you eventually break the silence, blowing a huff of strawberry-scented air in his direction. "One I bought and swore to keep untouched until I found someone worth using it for!"

His thunderous laugh has you opening your mouth in shock. You could count on your fingers the number of times he'd laugh openly and without reserves

"Bloody hell, darling. You'll get me killed before smoking does! That thing must have been expired for years now!"

You shake your head in disbelief, faintly blushing at his words. You know he is teasing you, but that does not stop you from taking revenge as you start to plant messy pecks and kisses on his neck and cheeks. You eventually stop when your lips are once again inches apart from his, your breaths slowly mingling into a shared one

"Then I guess we are going down together"

Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish - cherries and chapped lips

It all begins one cold morning when he leans in to kiss you goodbye before leaving for work

"Hold on! Johnny, you've got to do something about your chapped lips! You know what, let me get you a lip balm!"

He is quick to place a hand on your shoulder to stop you. His eyebrows are raised in disbelief and he has to do a double-take before words tumble out of his mouth

"Ain't no way I'm using such a thing, bonnie! Lip balms and such are made for wee lasses like you, not for demolition experts like me!"

You roll your eyes at his badly constructed argument and give him an unimpressed look when an idea pops into your mind.

"You stay right here, I'll be back in a jiffy!"

"What even is a jiffy?"

But you don't bother to answer as you head towards the bedroom, looking for the cherry-flavoured lip balm you bought specifically for the cold season. With precise movements, you apply a thick layer on your lips, smacking your lips to check if the cherry flavour is strong enough to linger. It fortunately is.

So you hurry into the hallway where Soap's waiting for you, hands on his hips as he angles his head in your direction. If he notices that your lips have just got shinier, he doesn't mention it

Instead, he leans in to properly kiss you goodbye this time, eyes comically widening when you deepen the kiss and make it last longer than usually

A small chuckle leaves his lips as you cup his cheeks in your hand and place a small kiss on the top of his nose

"How about we continue this when I come home?", he smiles at the ticklish sensation of your lips against his skin, the constant stinging of his own being forgotten for the moment

"Is that a promise, Sergeant?"

He has a hard time leaving home that day, the drive to the base being plagued by thoughts of you and how much you care for him. His lips have been chapped ever since spending the last two weeks on a mission that required him to be on constant watches in freezing temperatures. He eventually got used to it, the cracks and fissures becoming familiar from the countless times he dragged his tongue over lips, in a hopeless attempt to soothe the pain radiating from them

He does not realise that he is currently doing the same thing, his brain temporarily freezing as it detects a new, yet familiar aroma

Why do his lips taste like cherries?

He remains in the car, long after he's parked, his mind deep in thought as he runs his tongue over his lips once more, partially scared that he'll make the mysterious taste go away if he's too insistent. He does not see Ghost approaching his car from the back and actually flinches when he hears someone pounding on the window.

"D'you lock yourself in here, Johnny? The briefing's about to start in five and you haven't even geared up yet!"

"Bloody hell, you should really do something about your lips- they look like cracked desert earth or something…"

"Did not take you for a poet, L.T."

"Never said I was."

He is in the middle of the briefing when he figures out the source of the mystery taste. It all starts to make sense - the quick detour you had to take, the passionate kiss. He has to give it to you - you could do anything you put your mind to.

Because, besides the compelling taste, the chapstick you must have used started to have a soothing effect on his lips, the stinging becoming more bearable with every passing moment

He spends the rest of the day struggling to make the cherry flavour last longer, but it eventually fades out after he's forced to drink water. A small pout etches itself into his face and he starts to regret not listening to you.

The moment he comes home, he's in the bedroom, unscrewing the cap of every lip balm and smelling it before trying to place it back exactly as it was

You silently linger in the doorway, an amused smile creeping across your face as your fingers shift with the cherry-flavoured lip balm. Soap is so distracted by his covert operations task that he does not hear you trying to contain your chuckles.

"I believe you are looking for this?"

He is quick to snatch the small tube from your hands before bringing it closer to his nose and drawing a deep breath in. You shake your head in exasperation, a loud laugh escaping your lips as he clumsily tries to rub the chapstick across his lips.

"Love, you're doing it wrong! You might break it if you apply that much pressure!"

"Here, let me help you!"

Ends up insisting you order a batch just for him.

In just days, his lips go from cracked and fissured to soft and plump, perfect for the customary morning kiss

Sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick - vanilla and stained teeth

Combat training is fun and games until you are paired up with someone like Ghost, Soap, or Gaz and get your ass handed to you

Lucky you, today Gaz is the person who slams your back on the hard mattress and pins your hands above your head, interlocking your feet with his

Your mind replays the steamy events of last night and you can't help but give him a suggestive smirk which is quickly followed by a toothy grin upon seeing the blush that spreads on his face

He shakes his head in disbelief, not letting go of your arms or feet. Instead, he leans forward, cocks his head and openly stares at you

"Darling, you've got lipstick on your teeth!"

You comically widen your eyes and try to bring your hands to your mouth, struggling to escape his firm grip, but to no avail.

"'m n't s'ppos'd to we'r lipstick 't w'rk", you try to mumble with your mouth closed while your tongue is running over your teeth, looking for any traces of lipstick.

"Ok, has it gone now?", you open your mouth and practically bar your teeth at him, frowning at his unreadable expression. "Gaz- you're scaring m-"

Before you finish your sentence, he smashes his lips against yours and it takes all you have not to whimper when you feel his tongue repeatedly swiping over your teeth

Once he breaks up the kiss, he makes a show of checking you up, his thumb slowly tracing the outline of your lips

"Yeah, I think I got it all…"

You roll your eyes at the shit-eating grin he's sporting as he runs his tongue over his lips and freezes, his jaw going slack

"Why am I tasting vanilla? Are you tasting vanilla?"

You try to give him an answer, but before being able to say a word, his lips are back on yours and he is kissing you hard and long, his hold remaining as firm as before

"Alright, lovebirds - go get a room before I cite you for public indecency!"

Upon hearing Captain Price, your combat instincts kick back in and you manage to push Gaz off of you, switching position, so that you are atop him, pinning him to the ground

"Sorry, Captain! We'll go back to training!", you call out to him, offering him an apologetic smile which he accepts with a subtle nod.

"Next time you wear that lipstick, let a man know!"

"It screams you need someone to kiss it better"

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One of Rock Star Eddie and Baker Steve wrong number AU

Link to Part Two

Eddie's got dubious history with picture messages. Only a very small group of people have his number, considering he's the front man of a multimillion best selling metal band, he doesn't ever want his number to be public knowledge.

So yeah, picture message from and unknown number? Dubious.

Eddie's had enough dick and...vag...pics in his time that he, honestly, doesn't really want another. But when the picture is followed by a message, "were you thinking something like this?"

Well, Eddie's a curious guy. So, committing himself to the idea that this might be new number time, again, he opens the message.

To be confronted with a cake. A really fucking cool cake actually, it's got a car dashing around a muddy track on top with a big '5' in the middle. All of it looks edible, made out of...cake stuff. Eddie has no idea what it is, but it looks delicious.

"One layer chocolate, one layer red velvet? I can do any combination of flavours you want."

Well. Eddie isn't anything but impulsive and he was trying to figure out what the fuck to do for the 'quiet' celebration they were planning for going platinum. Again.

"I think you have the wrong number'" Eddie types, "but I definitely want to order a cake from you."

"Oh my god I'm so sorry, unsolicited cake pics are the worst 😉"

And Eddie can't help it, he laughs, and types back, "if I told you I wanted three tiers of the darkest, spookiest, cherry chocolate what would you come up with?"

It takes a couple of minutes, but Eddie's phone pings twice in quick succession, the first picture is of a spooky orange cake clearly Halloween themed, covered in ghosts and skeletons and stuff. The second is jet black and has a coffin on top that looks like it's leaking green corrosive stuff and Eddie nearly throws his phone in excitement. "That! The second one!"

"🤣 that's an old pic, I was just starting out then, but everything is edible, the green slime is made out of jello"

"Where are you based and can you make it for the 15th? I'll get a courier to collect."

"Sure thing, how many portions? And I need a deposit up front. I'll do chocolate ganache and cherry filling."

"Errr...like, 150? Maybe?"

Eddie sits and watches as the dots appear and disappear, appear and disappear, and then there's a pic.

It's a selfie of the most beautiful man he's ever seen. And he's standing in a kitchen, holding a cake pan. Suddenly Eddie's phone is ringing in his hand and he is panicking because beautiful man is calling him. "Hello?"

"Hey, man, it's Steve, the cake guy?". Eddie assumes he makes an affirmative noise because Steve keeps talking, "anyway, that cake pan I'm holding is literally the largest one I own, even if I did three tiers, no way will it cater that many, I'm a small business, you know, it's just me. I can recommend you some companies I know would do a great job."

But then, Eddie will never get to talk to beautiful man ever again, "what if you made like, three cakes?". He asks desperately.

There's a long beat of silence on the phone, "I mean, in theory, I mean, it might cost you more than-"

"I'll pay it. I'll pay double, for, inconvenience, or whatever-"

And oh no, beautiful man has the most beautiful laugh too. Eddie's fucked. He's so fucked.

"I'll raise you, two cakes and fifty muffins?" Steve laughs again, and Eddie laughs right along with him.

Steve grabs his phone when it pings, hoping for Eddie. It is Eddie. It's a selfie from the neck down, like always, Steve still doesn't know what the guy looks like, but Eddie's wearing a deep red shirt that he's clearly just dumped a whole cup of coffee down, "hope your days going better than mine, sweetheart,"

Steve sends back a selfie with a lump of uncooperative modelling fondant in the background, "that depends, can you tell what this is supposed to be?"

Steve's pretty sure it's wierd to talk to a customer every day, but he's started to find he's looking forward to Eddie's messages. Even when they turn flirty. Especially when they turn flirty, maybe.

And maybe it's not exactly professional that Steve's found a lot of reasons to call Eddie. He just, needs to get this right, and if Eddie wants chocolate covered cherries on the cupcakes, well, Steve needs to call him and check, right? Right.

Steve heads out into the lounge with flour on his nose and a mixing bowl under his arm, Dustin, Lucas and Max are sprawled on the couch, El lying on the floor. He can hear Mike and Will fucking around outside. He spoons up some cherry mixture, "hey will you try-"

"Shhhhhhhh!"

Well. Rude. Steve looks to the interview they're watching on the TV. It's some metal band Steve vaguely recognises, and when the lead guy speaks...Steve has to sit down. Because that sounds a lot like-

"So, Eddie," the show host guy starts, and Steve's knees would go weak of he wasn't already sitting down. He's certain his stomach has left the building. "Seeing anyone?"

Eddie laughs, says no, but the band mate next to him makes a show of nudging Eddie and sharing a look.

The host picks up on it immediately, "so there is someone," Eddie's still shaking his head, but he's got a shy smile on his face that makes Steve feel like he's melting. "Come on Eddie, give us something."

"It's not a thing," Eddie flaps his hands, "don't make it a thing."

"Oh it's a thing alright," the audience laugh, "come on, give us something!"

Eddie looks uncomfortable for a second before shrugging, "they, uhm, they make the most amazing cakes you've ever seen."

[endless-ineffabilities]

my man of the year

Ewan Mitchell x girlfriend!reader

a/n: just a little something for the Ewan girlies, because in this GQ party, we are all fam 💙

main masterlist

You attend the GQ Men of the Year 2024 party with your boyfriend.

You watch in admiration as Davey makes the final tweaks to Ewan's outfit for the event—a suit tailored to perfection, its velvet material snug against his lean form. A classic piece, but sporting some eccentricities that have become essential in the Mitchell-Sutton style partnership.

The velvet suit, not in the usual black or blue, also has a textured high notch and lapels, making him look like some kind of an 80s-flick vampire.

Your gaze sweeps from his polished shoes up to his face, finding that he's watching you in the reflection as he stands in front of the mirror.

He tries turning around to see you better, causing Davey's hand to fall from his shoulder as he was pinning something in place. "Ewan, mate. Save the ogling for later, yeah? Let me finish this first."

Ewan sighs dramatically, like a kid who's been asked to stand in the corner. "Okay."

You giggle softly, shaking your head at the scene. "Ewan, listen to Davey now."

You share a look with Davey, knowing smiles on your lips. Ewan, am I right?

"I just want to look at my girlfriend," Ewan complains.

"Look at me?" you question. "Look at you, handsome! You're my man of the year, every damn year."

"C'mere, babe."

"Ewan, don't move until Davey—."

"I won't move. But come here and give me a kiss."

"Fine." You get up from your comfortable position on the seat. Might as well oblige your boyfriend, the GQ honouree. Just the thought of it makes you so giddy with pride.

Rising onto your tiptoes, you rest your chin gently on his shoulder, batting your eyelashes as he leans his head against yours.

"There's my girl," he purrs, wrapping his free arm around your waist and Davey works on the sleeve on the other.

Then he kisses you, mindful to stay perfectly still. Only his lips move, pillowy as they caress yours. You would have to reapply your lipstick after this.

When he cheekily snakes his tongue out, you pull back, giving him an incredulous shake of your head. "Stand down, handsome."

"Oh, don't worry about me, sweetheart," Davey reassures you. "Maybe we should let Ewan have his way. Poor guy looks like he's about to explode."

You all share a laugh.

A minute later, he's all ready. Davey snaps photos of him alone, then shifts to capture the two of you together. He even manages a few that feel like classic prom poses, with Ewan's arms around you from behind.

The rest of the night is a blur of lights and glamour, and the warmth of Ewan's hand on your back quells your nerves as you step onto the red carpet.

The cameras are everywhere, a sea of flashes and shouting for you to, look here, look here!

Ewan keeps you close the entire time, steering you through it all. You can feel that he's anxious too but he's a steady presence by your side. He used to need a crutch like cigarettes or gum to deal with the chaos of such public events, but when you're with him, the noise is silenced.

It's just you and him against the world.

When his arm tightens around you, you jokingly remark, "Didn't peg you for the clingy type, babe."

He glances down, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. "Just making sure you don't run off with some other dashing celebrity."

An idea pops up in your head. He makes it all too easy. You let out a shaky gasp, "Wait, is that Pedro Pascal over there?"

"Where?" he asks sharply, distracted.

"By the big GQ sign. Don't make it obvious, though!" you whisper, as if you're entirely serious.

He squints, scanning the sea of people coming through the red carpet, until he realizes… there's no Pedro. Not yet, at least.

He turns to you with a playful glare, his mouth twitching with the hint of a smile. "You think you're funny, don't you, baby?"

You give your best wide-eyed, innocent look. "Who, me?"

"You're asking for it," he whispers close to your ear so the cameras don't catch it.

You only laugh as he pulls you closer, giving your waist another possessive squeeze.

"And what exactly are you gonna do about it?" you ask.

"Guess you'll have to find out after we're done here."

When he kisses you, you both know that the resulting pictures are going to flood the gossip sites, fan pages, and everything in between as soon as the next day. But neither of you care.

He makes sure that there's no mistaking who he came with that night.

And you would never tire of showing everyone just who your boyfriend is. You could scream it from the rooftops.

He doesn't need GQ to tell him he's one of the honourees of the year.

All he needs is you by his side to feel like he's truly won.