#special smut

[artinvain]

stone butch! sevika fucking you from behind.

overstimulation, squirting, talking u through it, pwop,

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

”breathe for me sweetheart,” sevika says bending herself over your back, her fingers circling your clit as you back yourself onto them, begging for her to stuff you full of her thick fingers. “can’t fill you up baby you’re so fuckin tight,” sev moans her fingers finally circling your wet hole and sinking in when you take a deep breath, “how are you still clenching so tight on me, fuck,” you’re yelping when she sinks in to the hilt and curls her fingersband stills them on your gspot.

she kisses down your back and ass and goes to suck on your clit, gently tapping on your spot until she feels you start to leak down her hand. your girlfriend is moaning loudly at the taste, the feeling of your gummy walls getting slippery. “there we go angel, get that pretty cunt nice and leaky for me,” sevika moans kissing your ass cheeks and spanking.

you whine and curse when sevika holds your hips still, her fingers grinding and rutting into your cunt with the movement of her hips.“please, fuck oh my god, I’m so close please vika,” you whine trying to back into her.

your lover chuckles and allows her thumb to rub over your clit softly, “aw you gonna cum already? god you’re pathetic sweetheart, fuck,”. sevika pulls her fingers out just a little bit to give you friction before she’s sinking back into you, whining lowly at the way you’re grinding your ass into her.

sevika can feel you clenching and leaking onto her wrist and your thighs and you’re so slippery and needy and she needs more. presses her hips against your soft ass and feeling herself get wetter as she fucks you, her fingers rutting in deep and slow, rubbing your gspot and your clit — “m’close, m’gon cumfuck sev please” you’re so drunk on her, on the way she treats you.

“yeah baby? you gonna cum again? look so pretty when you do,” she moans, her other hand coming to grab your hair and push the side of you face into the pillows as she gets on one knee and starts to hump you. “oh god yes,” you yelp, your heartbeat in your throat as sevika quickens her pace, nodding her head “yeah sweetheart, just cum f’me, know it feels so good, must feel so good being full of me huh?”

your face heats up at her words, with your back arching she somehow is able to reach just that little bit deeper so you’re groaning and drooling into the pillows, her fingers scissoring and stretching you for her cock, pumping in and out of you so fast you have to reach back and hold onto her thigh, nails making marks and sevika moans at the feeling.

“come on baby, gonna fill you with my cock just one more for me,” and you’re cumming whining and pushing against her hand, gripping the sheets as you near scream into them. her hand is wet with your cum and she sucks on her fingers moaning and choking herself on them.

you hardly have time before sevika’s filling you with her strap, cussing under her breath around her fingers, her eyes scrunching shut as you start to bounce yourself on her cock.

“there we go honey, yeah doing so good f’me, tell me how it feels,” she moans gripping your hips and bucking into you.

“feels,” you swallow your drool and moan, eyes rolling back in your head when she spears into your gspot - “fuck! sev you’re gonna make me cum again,” you gasp

“that’s exactly what I want baby, fuck look at you drooling over my cock, good girl,” your girlfriend praises you, spitting over the place her strap is spearing into you, so close to cumming herself watching you moan into the pillows and arch your back and bite your lips, eyes rolling back in your head.

“come on, cum for me sweetheart,”

“shit! fuck fuck aah,” you’re groaning and squirting onto the sheets as Sevika rubs your clit, strumming and humping into you until she’s cumming as well, gripping your hips tight and laying herself over you as your knees collapse and you fall flat onto the bed.

❤️‍🔥🏷️ @archangeldyke-all @sexysapphicshopowner @sevsbaby @iamaboringrattat @lavendersgirl @bimboprincezz @opropheticsoul @ariariarr

[pwettyaura]

‧₊˚ ⋅ 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍 — even when sylus is being nice, he can't help but be a little mean ♡

𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔: fem reader, established relationship, cock warming, fingering, ruined orgasm, overstim, slight choking, pet names ꒰ sweetie, kitten, sweet little thing, good girl ꒱, refers to reader's pussy as 'her', pussy slapping, dacryphilia.

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆: this thought plagued me at work, so i had to write it ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

sylus sits you in his lap so pretty, your legs hooked over his thick thighs, opened wide. his fat cock is stuffed to the hilt in your puffy little cunt, refusing to move and making you cry because you're so desperate to get fucked by your lover.

he pulls you back by your throat, presses your back to his strong chest, and the deep rumble of his timbre vibrates through your ribs as he speaks.

"you know what to do, sweetie," his index and middle fingers spread in a 'v' shape, parting your folds to expose your clit to the air. he rubs up and down, pinching the sensitive bud between his fingers.

you whine and pant, a soft sheen of sweat dampening your hairline, skin so hot you believe you may melt. you try to move your hips but he squeezes your throat firmly — a warning to keep you in your place.

"you want me to fuck you, you gotta get my dick wet first," he purrs with a depth that makes you gush around him, but it isn't enough.

sylus wants you to cum. he wants you squirming and trembling in his arms, creaming around him and dripping down his balls before he'll even entertain the idea of giving you what you want.

long fingers circle your sensitive bud, just enough to send shivers up and down your spine, your cunt squeezing him so nicely that he can't help but groan against your ear.

"such a greedy pussy.. can't be happy with what i give to her," he tuts, condescending and mean. tears sting your eyes at the overstimulation, his actions coming off more as torturous than pleasing.

"sylus, pleeease," you beg, your back bowing away from his abdomen. "need more, just... just a little more,"

you're already so high-strung, the coil in your belly wound up to its tightest, ready to burst at any moment. your hips thrust defiantly, and before you can register it, you've completely blacked out, head growing fuzzy and light as sylus slaps your clit, over and over again. it's more pain than pleasure, but still, your muscles twitch and burn as you drench his cock, your orgasm approaching whether you want it to or not, and sylus gives a shaky sigh.

your lashes are wet, forming little peaks as your frustration swells during the come-down. left horrendously unsatisfied, your tummy flutters with need, walls aching for more, more, more.

"aw, you're so pretty. what a sweet little thing you are," sylus grins, kissing the side of your head, squeezing your cheeks to hold you close. "if only you could listen as well as you take dick,"

your chest heaves with every breath. silent sobs tighten your throat as you tilt your head, leaning into his space.

"'m soh-ry..."

"hm? don't be sorry, kitten, i know you try," his words are honey-sweet. you know it's a facade. "but maybe you should try a little harder this time,"

he uses a flattened hand to massage your swollen folds, wet and flushed, already shaking in his embrace. "i pr... i promise, i promise..."

he grins knowingly. "that's my good girl,"

© 2024 pwettyaura. do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my work to other sites.

[misswynters]

Christmas Present

featuring. viktor x afab!reader

warnings. MDNI SMUT (18+), reader wearing lingerie, riding, praising, unprotected sex, blowjob, creampie, viktor being obsessed with hearing the bell you are wearing, soft sex, bondage (m. receiving), breeding, begging and whining, aftercare at the end

requested by anon (combined the christmas and the riding viktor requests)

a/n. got lazy at the end :(

The workshop was unusually quiet for the evening, a rare stillness settling over the room. The only sounds were the faint hum of machines idling in the background and the soft creak of Viktor’s cane as he approached the workbench. You could hear his measured steps echoing off the walls, the rhythm unhurried, likely lost in some grand idea. You smiled to yourself, anticipation bubbling as you sat in his chair, carefully positioning yourself for the reveal.

The lingerie you wore was festive yet bold, a delicate mix of red and green fabric that hugged your curves. A small, golden bow sat perfectly in the center of your sternum, just above a jingling bell that chimed softly with every shift of your body. You felt equal parts daring and nervous, unsure how Viktor might react to such an unconventional “gift.” But you knew him, beneath his composed exterior lay a man brimming with emotions he often kept restrained. Tonight, you intended to bring those emotions to the surface.

Viktor called your name, his voice carrying an affectionate cadence as it bounced through the workshop. “Are you here? I thought we agreed to meet for dinner, not…hide in my workshop.” His words were laced with amusement, though there was an edge of curiosity.

You waited until you heard the soft click of the door closing behind him before turning the chair around slowly. His amber eyes widened at the sight of you, his steps faltering as though he had forgotten how to walk. For a moment, he simply stared, his mouth parting slightly before snapping shut. His fingers gripped the handle of his cane tightly, and you could see the muscles in his jaw flex as he struggled to find words.

“Viktor,” you said softly, your voice laced with playful confidence. “Merry Christmas.”

He took a shaky breath, his eyes roaming over you. It was hesitant at first, as though he were unsure if he was allowed to look, but soon lingering on every detail. The red and green satin, the bow, the golden bell. It all seemed to render him completely speechless. His cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and when he finally managed to speak, his voice was a hushed whisper.

“Y-you look stunning,” he stammered, his accent thick, each word tinged with awe. “I did not expect this. You are…my present?”

You nodded, your lips curving into a teasing smile. “Do you like it?”

His steps were hesitant as he moved closer, his cane tapping lightly against the floor. When he reached the chair, he leaned down, his hands gripping the armrests tightly, knuckles white with the effort it took not to touch you. His breath was warm against your face, and his amber eyes, usually so focused and calculating, now shimmered with a mix of love and unspoken need.

“You are beautiful,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. His gaze flickered to the golden bell resting against your sternum. A small, almost mischievous smile played at the corners of his lips as he reached out, his fingers brushing the bell lightly. The soft chime it produced sent a shiver down your spine, and Viktor’s eyes darkened at the sound. “Thought of everything,” he said, his tone warm yet trembling slightly. “Even this small detail…too much for me, my love.”

You reached up, your fingers curling around the edges of his vest and tugging him closer. His body stiffened for a moment before he gave in, leaning closer until your noses were nearly touching. His gaze flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes, his internal battle written all over his face.

“Are you just going to stand there and admire me, or are you going to do something about it?” you teased, your voice a soft purr as your fingers trailed down from his shoulders to his chest. Lowering down to his stomach.

Viktor let out a shaky laugh, his lips twitching as though he wanted to smile but couldn’t quite manage it. “Taking my breathe away,” he said, his voice low and filled with a mix of reverence and amusement. “You know this, yes?”

“Of course,” you replied, your eyes locking with his as you leaned back slightly in the chair, giving him a better view of your figure. “Now, are you going to unwrap your present, or should I do it for you?”

Viktor’s breath hitched, and for a moment, he simply stared at you, as though trying to commit every detail to memory. Then, with a determination that sent a thrill through you, he straightened and moved his hands from the armrests to your thighs, his touch was light. His fingers traced slow, deliberate patterns against the satin fabric, his movements reverent.

“My pretty gift,” he said softly, his voice filled with emotion. “Not just tonight, but always. How did I ever deserve you?”

“You don’t have to deserve me, Viktor,” you replied, your voice equally soft as you cupped his face, your thumbs brushing against his cheekbones. “You just have to love me.”

“I do,” he said, his voice firm now, his amber eyes locking with yours. “More than I can ever express.”

You smiled, your heart swelling at his words. You tugged him closer again, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was slow at first but quickly deepened. Viktor’s hands gripped your thighs more firmly, his restraint slipping as he poured every ounce of his love and need into the kiss. The bell at your sternum chimed softly as you shifted, the sound blending with the faint hum of the workshop’s machines. Viktor pulled back slightly, his lips brushing against yours as he whispered, “The sound… It is perfect. Just like you.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, and you smiled against his lips. “Merry Christmas, Viktor,” you murmured.

“And to you, my love,” he replied, his voice full of warmth and promise as he leaned in for another kiss, the workshop fading away as the two of you lost yourselves in each other.

Viktor's breath lingered against your lips as he leaned in again, his hand cupping your jaw delicately. His kiss was featherlight at first, as though he were savoring the taste of you, committing every moment to memory. The softness of his lips, the way his thumb brushed against your cheek. It was achingly tender, his care evident in every movement. Time seemed to stretch as the two of you stayed like that, exchanging gentle kisses that grew slower, deeper, more meaningful with each passing moment.

Viktor's free hand found its way to your shoulder, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of the delicate strap of your lingerie. His other hand remained steady on your jaw, holding you as if you might disappear at any moment. When he finally pulled back, it wasn't far. His forehead rested against yours, and his amber eyes gazed into yours. His breathing was uneven, each exhale mingling with yours as the two of you stayed in this shared bubble of intimacy.

"You are..." he started, his voice hushed but thick with emotion, "you are more than I could have ever dreamed of. Sometimes I wonder if this is all some invention of my mind."

You chuckled softly, your hand rising to brush a strand of hair away from his face. "This is very real," you murmured, your voice filled with affection. "And so am I."

His lips curved into a faint smile, but the look in his eyes was serious, filled with love and awe. He nodded slightly, his gaze sweeping over your face as though he were memorizing every detail. Then, without another word, he leaned in again, this time closing the distance with a kiss that was anything but hesitant. It was as though a dam had broken. His lips moved against yours with a new passion, every kiss filled with a need that had been simmering under the surface. His hand left your shoulder to slide down to your waist, pulling you closer against him. The kiss deepened, his tongue brushing against yours, and a soft hum of pleasure escaped you, which only seemed to spur him on.

Viktor pulled back briefly, just long enough to catch his breath, his eyes darkened with desire as they met yours. "You make it hard to think straight," he murmured, his voice low, almost reverent, sending a thrill through you.

"Isn’t that the point?" you teased, your voice soft but breathless as you pulled him closer, your arms wrapping around his neck. "Seems like I’m doing something right."

His response was a soft laugh, but it quickly dissolved as he dove back into the kiss, this time with even more passion. His hands slid around your waist, holding you firmly yet gently, and with a surprising strength, he lifted you out of the chair. Your body pressed flush against his as his arms wrapped around you, holding you as though you were the most precious thing in the world. You yelped his name, surprised by the sudden action.

He only smiled, his eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and something deeper. "Sure, full of surprises tonight," he murmured, "but two can play that game."

He turned, carefully sitting back in the chair while positioning you to straddle his lap. The new position made your breath hitch as your knees settled on either side of him, your bodies impossibly close. His hands settled on your waist again, holding you steady as his gaze roamed over you, lingering on the golden bell nestled against your chest.

The corner of his mouth quirked upward, and he reached out to flick the bell lightly again. The soft chime it produced seemed to echo through the workshop, and his eyes flicked back to yours, filled with mischief. "I like this sound," he admitted, his voice a little rough. "I may want to hear it more."

Your cheeks heated at his words, and you couldn't help the small laugh that escaped you. "You'll have to work for that," you teased, your fingers slipping under the edge of his vest, brushing against the soft fabric of his shirt.

Viktor's breath faltered as your hand brushed against him, his fingers tightening around your waist with a quiet intensity. "Everything about you is a temptation," he said softly, his voice laced with both admiration and desire.

You smiled up at him, a hint of playfulness in your eyes. "I think you're just weak for me," you teased, your voice tender and full of warmth.

His only response was another kiss, this one searing in its intensity. Your hands wandered further, slipping under his shirt to trace the lines of his torso. His body tensed slightly under your touch, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he deepened the kiss, his hands sliding up your back and pulling you even closer against him.

The golden bell jingled softly with every movement, a reminder of the festive occasion, but the two of you were far too lost in each other to notice much else. Viktor's lips left yours to trail down your jaw, his kisses soft but deliberate as he moved to your neck. You tilted your head to the side, giving him better access, and a soft sigh escaped you as his lips found a particularly sensitive spot. You whined slightly, your hands tangling in his hair as he continued his care.

"Yes, my love?" he replied, his voice a soft whisper against your skin.

"Keep going, please-" you begged, your voice barely audible but filled with need.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your neck. "I had no intention of doing so," he assured you, his lips trailing back up to capture yours again in another passionate kiss.

Viktor’s hands slid down to your waist, gripping you more firmly as he pressed you closer against him. The movement was slow but deliberate, and your body instinctively followed his lead, your hips shifting to meet his. The only thing separating the two of you was the thin layer of fabric you wore.

He smiled faintly, though the intensity in his gaze never wavered. One of his hands trailed upward, brushing against the small of your back before settling there, holding you steady as he encouraged your movements with a subtle shift of his hips. The friction elicited a soft moan from you, and Viktor’s grip tightened slightly in response.

The sound of the golden bell ringing faintly between you only heightened the moment, the delicate chime contrasting with the growing intensity of your shared passion. Viktor’s lips left yours to trail along your jawline, leaving a path of warm, lingering kisses. When he reached the curve of your neck, his lips hovered there for a moment, his breath hot against your skin.

“...so perfect,” he murmured, his voice a mixture of reverence and longing.

Your heart swelled at his words, and you tilted your head to the side, giving him better access. “That's sweet of you to say,” you replied, your voice soft but playful.

Viktor let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating against your neck. “Sweet, hmm?” he said, his tone laced with a teasing edge. “You may find I am not so sweet after all.”

“Viktor,” you breathed, your hands gripping his shoulders for support as you leaned closer, your lips brushing against his ear.

His response was a shaky exhale, his head dipping forward to press a kiss to your shoulder. “It is you,” he said softly, his voice rough with emotion. “You make everything, every moment, so much more.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face, your hands moving from his shoulders to cup his face. You guided his gaze back to yours, your thumb brushing lightly against his cheek. Viktor didn’t need to be told twice. His lips found yours again, and the two of you lost yourselves in each other, the rest of the world fading away. The chair creaked softly beneath you, but neither of you paid it any mind. All that mattered was the shared warmth between you, the unspoken promises conveyed in every kiss, every touch, every whispered breath.

His hands began to roam your body, not leaving a single part untouched. You began reaching down to undo the buttons of his trousers, and when you finally undid all of them, Viktor stopped. Looking at you in the eyes with a soft and kind expression. “My love, do you want to continue?

Then you slowly began stroke his cock starting with the tip, your thumb pressing lightly. This earned a ragged groan from him as he leaned his head back against the back of the chair.

“Y-you have… experience in everything don’t you? he whispered against your ear as your hand moved down to the base, pumping him a few times. Now that you actually look at it, it’s longer than what you thought. It has been so long since you found time to do this. He would always be so busy with his inventions, meeting with the council, etc.

Taking his now hard cock into your hand, you hovered over his hips. Your arousal was sticky, the soft layer that separated the two of you, clinging to your body. Then Viktor looped it around his finger, moving it to the side. “Go on,” he whispered his amber eyes looking at your with such love and desire. He took your smaller hand into his, helping you align his cock between your folds. “Let me help you.”

Oh, how you loved the way he looked at you. Maintaining eye contact while intimate always made you blush inside. Viktor began to slide it between your slick folds a few times, collecting the wetness that lingered before setting the thin fabric aside again. He pushed his tip slowly and antagonizing, as the two of you moaned softly. Leaning forward you flushed your chest against his, resting you head of his shoulder. He got ahold of your hips with a firm grip, slipping the palm of his hands towards the bottom of your ass.

He looked at you as he leaned toward you, his head laid on yours. Kissing you temple, as his lips brushed against your ear, reassuringly. “Doing alright, my love?”

You didn’t want to respond. Well, more like you couldn’t the overwhelming pleasure was too much for you so you just nodded in agreement. With that he began to lower you down, his cock slowly filling you up to the hilt. His long length being wrapped tightly by your walls, he wanted to let out a moan. But all that came out was a shaky sigh.

He slowly pulled out and pushed back in, each thrust causing soft, wet squelching sounds as your bodies met. The sound of your skin slapping was a reminder of how deeply he was filling you, every thrust a testament to the care he took in making sure you felt each inch of him. His pace was measured, slow, but intense. He was lost in the way your body responded to him, how tight and warm you were around him.

Every time he thrusted upwards, the golden bell that laid on your chest rang more loudly. It was like it ignited something in his that make his go slower but harder. He wanted to hear that bell ring more. The harder you bounced on his cock, the louder the bell rang. His chair creaked at the hinges from each impact.

Viktor kissed you slowly starting from the edge of your shoulder towards the end of your collarbone. Leaving wet kisses as he traveled up your neck, and finally reaching your jawline. His hand moving up between the valley of your chest. When he reached the precious bell, he flickered it with his fingers. Ding Ding Ding.

You had an idea, very brilliant one. Slowly you lifted yourself up from his hips, his cock falling limp. He looked up at you with curiosity.

He cupped your gently, “Where are you going?” he said softly, that it make your heart flutter even though you were in a compromising position. You didn’t say anything yet, thinking about how you were going to put your idea into words. A few seconds had passed before you could get the courage to ask.

“Where’s the ribbons at?” you asked, looking away shyly, not making eye contact with him.

“The satin ribbons we used for wrapping some of the presents?-” he replied, pondering trying to reach the depths of his mind to see if he can remember where he last placed them, unaware of your intentions.

You nodded yes, as he pointed towards a wooden cabinet near the table the two of you sat by. Walking over, with your legs trembling and weak, you reached the doors opening them with a creak. It was an old cabinet for sure. There were the ribbons, in the center with its pink satin colors slightly glowing with the dim lights. You picked it up and walked towards Viktor who was still siting in his chair, with somewhat of exhaustion lingering in his face.

Trying your best as you maintained eye contact, you lightly tied the ribbons around your chest. Once it was softly secure against your body with a bow finishing it off, you sat on his lap again.

Viktor’s hands, still gentle yet trembling with restraint, hovered over your waist as his lips ghosted over the shell of your ear. The soft golden glow of the workshop lamps illuminated his tousled hair, casting shadows on his face that only deepened the intensity in his eyes. His breaths were shallow, and though his posture remained collected, you could feel the weight of his emotions beneath the surface.

“I… cannot do this to you,” he murmured into your ear, his voice thick. Accent curling around every word like a warm embrace. His eyes darted toward the ribbon tied loosely around your chest, the bell at its center giving a soft chime as you shifted.

You tilted your head, confused by the sudden hesitation. “Why not?” you asked, voice teasing but with curiosity.

Viktor pulled back slightly, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that took your breath away. “Because…” He hesitated, his lips parting as if searching for the right words. “You are no gift to be unwrapped and claimed. You are so much more than that. I cannot bear to treat you as though you are anything less than my equal.”

His confession caught you off guard, your heart squeezing at the sincerity in his tone. There was something achingly vulnerable in the way he spoke, as if the very idea of reducing you to a “present” was an slur to the depth of his feelings for you.

The playful grin on your face softened into something more tender. “Oh-,” you whispered, running your fingers through his hair, your touch gentle. “That might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

A flicker of a smile touched his lips, though his blush deepened. “I mean every word,” he said softly, his fingers brushing over the edge of the ribbon with reverence. “But…” His gaze turned quite mischievous, his golden eyes glinting with newfound confidence. “If it must be someone, then tie me up instead.”

Your eyebrows raised at his suggestion, heat rushing to your cheeks. “You?”

“Why not?” His tone was soft, but his words carried a daring edge. “If you are to tease me like this, then it is only fair I surrender myself to your whims. Let me be yours.” The image of Viktor, bound in ribbons and entirely at your mercy, sent a delicious shiver down your spine. You leaned forward, your lips brushing against his in a featherlight kiss before pulling back, your smile playful.

“You’re serious?”

His gaze never wavered. “For you? Of course, I’m always serious.” The boldness in his reply sent warmth flooding through you, and without hesitation, you reached for the loose ribbon on your chest, pulling it free with a gentle tug. It slid from your skin, the bell giving one last soft chime before you wrapped it around your hands.

“Let’s see how you handle being my present,” you slightly teased, looping the ribbon around his arms. Strapping them to the arms rest of the chair. Once you finished tying him up (with the finishing touches being bows on each side), you went on your knees placing you hands on his thighs. Caressing them upwards until it reached his glistening length.

One of your hands eagerly ran from base to shaft, the other resting comfortably on his thigh as your lips eagerly sucked on the tip. Biting your lower lip, you pulled your eyes away just for a second to glance at how evident he was. His length had gained its strength. You just can’t help the smile that breaks over your face. You were staring up at him through your eyelashes as you work your hands and mouth. His breath is shaking, as you go to lick up his length he quickly brings a hand towards your hair to curl into your head.

“Fuck.” he whispered out, so much pleasure building already with the added height of fear of someone walking in at anytime. Bursting through the door, like someone would always do.

Removing yourself briefly you locked eyes with him. “You are sure enjoying yourself, huh?” you let out a small chuckle, lightly scraping your teeth while looking back up at him with am innocent smile.

“S-stop teasing-” he softly stuttered, his hand laced back into your hair pushing you back down on his length.

You pressed your lips against the head of his cock, tongue darting out to taste the precum there. You gave kitten licks, wrapping your hand around the base and giving his length gentle pumps.

You maintained the eye contact, looking up at him while kissing his sensitive skin. Your free hand massaged his leg, up and down his thigh to ease the pain there and earning you another pleased sigh from his lips as his eyes fluttered shut.

He groaned, sagging back into his chair. As you continued, your hand found his, lacing your fingers together to ground himself. He let out soft moans, bucking his hips a bit as he muttered sweet nothings you couldn’t understand.

Taking his tip into your mouth, you began to lap and suck it before pushing yourself further. As you continued, he got louder without hesitation (though it wasn't loud enough it could be heard through the door) and more whinier.

He whined, moaning your name as softly. His muscles tensed as he gripped the arms of the chair, hard enough to make his knuckles go white. His chest moved upwards, voice breaking as he begged you to slow down between more broken begging of your name.

You ignored them, tears beginning to build and spill from your eyes as your own body demanded an end to the constant badgering at the back of your throat. He groaned loudly; your only warning before he was coming, thick, hot streams jetting into your mouth. You whimpered slightly.

His eyes are soft, almost shy. “Let me return the favor,” he says as he lifts up his head to look down at you, his voice low, warm. With careful movements, you stood up from your knees which were slightly red due to the hard floor as you straddled him once again.

You melted into him, feeling safe and loved. “Is there anything you want for Christmas?” Viktor asks, his voice hesitant, as though he’s unsure of what you’ll say.

You think for a moment, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "I want you to be a father," you say quietly, your heart full of warmth as you look into his eyes.

Viktor’s face flushes a deep red, his grip tightening gently around the chairs armrest. He looks at you as if processing your words, his expression both surprised and touched. Slowly, he adjusts you, making sure you’re comfortable as you straddle his lap once more. then you remembered that you hadn't came yet, so its a perfect opportunity.

Sinking down his sensitive length you let out a moan, your hands gripped the bottom of his vest. Viktor began to breath heavily, matching yours perfectly. Burying himself deep inside of you, wanting so badly to pull you into a hug. Sadly, his hands were still restrained. He whined against your lips, "C-can you untie the bows, Please-"

"Sorry Goldie, No can do," you said teasingly with a soft voice, wiggling your finger no towards his face.

He kept hitting the perfect spot, over and over again. It felt amazing. You leaned towards him, hands resting on his chest. Then you laid your head over his shoulder as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He desperately wanted to hug you back that it was painfully noticeable. How he moved his head, caressing it against your arm. Smelling your scent of vanilla bean and coconut oil as he ran his big slightly curvy nose bumping on your forearm.

“Can you please untie me, my love” he begged once again, his hips bucking against yours delicately. The way he looked at you with the softness in his amber eyes. Oh, you couldn’t resist much. Barely lasting more than 5 minutes having his hands tied up, such a desperate man. Leaning back slightly with his cock still inside of you, you began to untie the bows. Luckily, you didn’t tie them tightly around his wrists so they easily came off in seconds.

Immediately, his hands went straight to your ass again, like earlier. This time however he spread them wider, the pleasure overwhelming his senses unable to fully control his grip on you. As he thrusted upwards, he set a slighter faster but nevertheless harder pace.

Viktor's hand slip up to the small on your back, pulling you towards his chest. All you could do was lay against him as he continued his pace. Occasionally you would bounce on him, nearly pulling out before going back down. But it was very difficult to keep up with him as he desperately tried to find his own release inside of you after a longing of teasing. This would also will be the first time tonight for you. The ringing of the bell intensified with every thrust.

Clutching at his black button-up shirt, now stained with your tears of pleasure and a bit of drool. As you finally started to find your own release, the lewd squelching sounds were present in the room. Moans and soft gasps were all that could be heard from the two of you alongside the whispered of encourage he would speak into your ear.

You’re doing so good.

Taking me so well.

With every second that passed by, the closer your climax was. It was a close call though seconds apart, but you were the first one. Squirting on his cock with some of it dripping down to his pants as it spilled out of you. Then he came inside of you, shooting his load deep inside. Filling you up to the brim, hoping that with this your Christmas wish would come true in the next 9 months.

He caressed your back as he pulled you off him, sitting you back on his lap. Soaked by your arousal, luckily his pants were black.

“Best gift ever.” he simply said as he smiled, looking at your face that rested on his shoulder in exhaustion. Ringing the bell on your chest with his slender fingers, once again.

You sat on his lap, your legs tucked to one side, cradled securely by his strong arm wrapped around your waist. His other hand rested lightly on your thigh, his thumb brushing idle patterns your soft skin. Your head rested against his shoulder, and his faint scent surrounded you into the present. Viktor’s heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, and the rise and fall of his chest matched your own.

"You’re quiet," he murmured, his voice soft and slightly raspy. "Are you alright, my love?"

You tilted your head to look up at him, his amber eyes meeting yours with a mix of concern and adoration. "I’m fine," you whispered, your lips curving into a small smile. "Just...happy."

A rare, genuine smile tugged at Viktor’s lips, and his hand moved to cup your cheek, his fingers gentle and warm. "Good," he said simply, but the weight behind the word spoke volumes.

His eyes studied you, his gaze lingering on the faint flush of your cheeks and the way your lashes fluttered as you looked at him. "You take such good care of me," he continued, his tone tinged with both gratitude and guilt.

His thumb brushed over your cheek, and his expression softened further. Viktor’s hand slid from your cheek to your back, pulling you closer until your foreheads rested together. The warmth of his breath mingled with yours, and you closed your eyes, letting the world outside the lab fade away.

"Stay like this a little longer," he whispered, his voice a gentle plea.

"I’m not going anywhere," you promised, your hand finding its way to his chest, where you felt the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm.

His lips brushed your temple in a featherlight kiss, and you felt him relax further beneath you, his body molding against yours as if you were two pieces of the same puzzle. For a man who often carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, you holding him close to your heart, was the best gift you could ask for.

taglist. @simsaelies @urboylys @nanamea @luneariaa @minagrayson @aliives @jinxsfavoritepookie @gxrextxgaidk @anna1-1 @bl-0-ndi-3

[bunnis-monsters]

🎄NSFW 🎄

warning: oviposition, gangbang, fluff+smut

Your first Christmas with the bee hybrids was… certainly an experience.

You’ve only been queen for a year. Your own little ones are barely toddlers learning to walk and fly, but the babies from the previous queen have grown attached and see you as their mama too.

“Mama, what’s Christmas?”

Oh, the dreaded question. The hive had been teaching the little ones human traditions and simple biological facts to make sure they grew up knowing how to properly take care of their queen.

“Oh… it’s a holiday where the family gathers around, exchanged presents, and then we eat a nice dinner.”

One of your own toddles over, teething on one of your fingers as you speak. “Sometimes during the season, people go caroling or look at Christmas lights. There’s a lot of baking as well.”

They all let out a collective “ooo”.

This was the beginning of the end.

The second Halloween was over, the baby bees were buzzing around, begging their mama for some Christmas fun. It wasn’t fair that the humans got to celebrate such cool traditions while they “wasted away” in their cribs.

“Mama, I wanna make cookies!”

“A-and I want to see Santa!”

“Mama, are we elves?”

Overwhelmed by all of their requests and… odd questions, you quickly roped in the adults in your hive to help you make Christmas possible for your baby bees.

Surprisingly, the hardest part was your subjects trying to comprehend why the little ones should receive a gift from an outsider of the hive.

“This Santa creature… is he safe? What does he want in return for gifts of this amount? I’m not sure we have enough honey to satisfy such a beast.”

That’s when you had to break it to the adults of your hive that Santa was in fact not real, and that all of the presents would come from them.

A few of your attendants whined, burying their faces in your neck and tummy, rubbing their fluff against you. “My queen, he’s not real? We won’t get presents?”

“Oh dear…”

It took the entire month of November to simply gather all of the supplies together, and you wondered if it would be possible to give your babies the Christmas they wanted.

First up on the list was Christmas caroling. They refused to do it in the hive, babbling on about spreading Christmas cheer.

So you hid their antennas under hats, bundled them up nice and warm, and escorted them down a relatively safe human street. The bee hybrids guarded the little ones, buzzing threateningly at anyone that got to close as they sang their little songs.

You watched out of the corner of your eyes as one of them fell face first into a snow bank, their little legs wiggling while being pulled out by one of the guards.

It was difficult not to laugh.

After their caroling, they wanted to play in the snow for a while. You let them play until they were running to you and crying, their little noses runny and their hands cold.

“Alright, let’s go home.”

Through December, you helped them do fun crafts and write their letters to Santa. There was a certain magic in the air, everyone was excited for the big night.

And then it came. Christmas Eve was filled with activities, the first being a special breakfast.

The next activity was baking cookies for Santa. Since you had so many little ones, multiple ovens had to be used just to make enough cookies for them to decorate.

Of course they all ate most of them, unable to resist the sugary treats, but you were able to save a plate full for Santa.

They all gathered around the giant tree the bee hybrids brought into the hive, all giggling and decorating it as others snacked on the Christmas cookies. Seeing your cute little fuzz balls so happy made your heart soar.

The last activity before bed was to watch a Christmas movie, and they all wanted to be snuggled up with you while they waited for Santa.

They all wore little matching pajamas, their wings buzzing and antennas twitching as they curled up with their mama.

“Mama… Christmas is the best…” one of your babies cooed as another nursed. They were still so little, you hoped you’d have many more Christmas memories like this in the future.

Carefully, you untangled yourself from the pile of sleeping baby bees and made you way to the adult Christmas party.

When you opened the door, all eyes were on you. Some were drunk from overripe fruit while others were feasting on sweets and playing games while waiting for you to arrive.

And every single one of them was hard.

“My queen~!”

You were approached by your attendants, who all rubbed around you, desperate for your attention after you had been busy with the babies all day. “We missed you… everyone’s been waiting for our Christmas present!”

All of the bee hybrids cooed and hummed, buzzing with excitement. In exchange for them working so hard to give the babies a nice Christmas, you promised to give them a special treat.

Your body.

Instantly you were surrounded, being caressed and sniffed, your clothes easily coming off. Your hive had been working nonstop all month to make you and the babies happy, which meant you hadn’t been mated with much.

And embarrassingly enough, you craved this as much as they did.

You cried out in ecstasy as one of the bees latched onto your clit, sucking softly as your cunt was being fucked by another. Both of your nipples were being attacked, and your mouth was stuffed with a fat cock.

“Is this okay, my queen?”

“Ahh, my queen, you’re so tight…”

It was a night full of many orgasms, your tummy heavy and full of eggs by morning.

Each bee hybrid got their turn inside of your cunt, and admittedly it was arousing to watch them jerk off to the image of you being fucked by the others, some even sucking and fucking each other because they were too impatient.

But they ended up completely satisfied, lapping softly at your cunt, licking up some of the cum and gently pushing eggs back into your pussy.

You were so, so full and kept cumming around the eggs that it was hard to keep them inside… but your attendants swooped in to take care of the aftercare and make sure you would be ready for the morning.

You yawned, resting against a fluffy bee hybrid as your little ones opened their presents in the morning. They were all so happy, giggling and carrying around their toys to show to their mama.

It was a great first Christmas with the bee hybrids, and each one of them was looking forward to next year!

[authorhjk1]

Public punishment

(Yujin X Wonyoung X Male Reader)

Your face remains expressionless as you pause the video.

"See, daddy? I told you she is such a slut."

You ignore Wonyoung as you stare at the woman on the screen.

Yujin really is a slut. Which you already knew from the first time you met her. Same as Wonyoung. The difference between those two is, that Wonyoung isn't as slutty as the older girl. Yujin shows off her body way more.

The three of you are all in a purely sexual relationship. But it seems like Yujin forgets that from time to time.

"You need to punish her."

You finally take a look at Wonyoung, who is sitting next to you. She's sitting straight, her hands resting on her thighs. You catch the small smile around her lips. She's loving this. She'd gladly throw Yujin under the bus, just so you can see her as the better of the two.

"I really should."

You think out loud, making Wonyoung scoot closer.

"She will be home in two hours."

"And?"

Wonyoung's eyes look up at you.

"Don't I get a reward?"

"For what?"

She pouts.

"Come on, daddy."

You sigh, knowing it'll be hard to resist her. But you try to keep your head clear. You need to find a fitting punishment for Yujin.

"At-At least let me suck it."

She looks up at you with those big eyes of hers, her lips still sporting that cute pout.

"Fine."

"Yes!"

Wonyoung exclaims. But before she can unbuckle your belt, you grap her wrists.

"But not like this."

You gesture at the oversized hoodie and sweatpants she is wearing.

"I'll go change. Just a minute."

Like an excited little bunny, Wonyoung runs towards her room in record speed.

You unpause the video of Yujin dancing in that little skimpy outfit of hers. She winks at the camera, plays with her pigtails...

All the fans seem to love her. Of course they do. Who wouldn't?

An idea slowly blossoms inside your mind. So many people. And all of them love her. Not just for her music, but her body and face as well.

You hear the door to Wonyoung's room open. You're not being paid badly, being one of Ive's managers and all. But you could certainly make a few extra bucks, if you play your cards right. A mischievous smirk plays around your lips as you finally plan out Yujin's proper punishment.

Wonyoung wordlessly kneels down in front of you, a satisfied smile on her face. She knows you like it when you can hold onto something. That's why she often wears pigtails or a ponytail.

While you keep watching Yujin's performance, Wonyoung finally gets her reward. You feel her lips close around your shaft. Her head begins to bob soon after, her lips gliding along your length.

While you watch the older woman dance on screen, you reach down and hold onto Wonyoung's pigtails with both hands. She gladly gives up control as you wrap her hair around your hands. You start to pull her back and forth, using her mouth like a fleshlight.

The young woman in front of you stays silent, expect for a couple of gags here and there. She tries to look up at you, although your eyes are glued to the screen. Wonyoung is wondering what you're thinking about. And even more importantly, why aren't you thinking about her?

She'd be completely satisfied with giving you head, if you were focused on her. But that's not the case right now. Wonyoung craves your attention. After all, that's why she told you about Yujin. You've been on vacation for the last two weeks, so you didn't even meet the two of them often during that time. And now that Wonyoung finally has you to herself, you can't stop thinking about Yujin.

But she can't complain either, because her mouth is completely stuffed with your cock. Unable to say a word, Wonyoung lets you use her mouth in what ever way you see fit. Even if you aren't even looking at her.

"What exactly are we doing here?"

Despite her annoying questions, Yujin still follows you into the mall.

"Wait and see."

You say, almost to yourself, as you look around.

"Are you just returning something? What's in there?"

For the nth time, Yujin is trying to sneak a peak inside the big bag you brought with you.

You take her hand and lead her towards a Chinese restaurant inside the mall. Right next to it is a sign that shows the way to a public restroom. The left one for women, the right one for men.

"Isn't it too early for lunch?"

Rolling your eyes at her questions, you drag her inside the men's room.

"Oppa, I shouldn't-"

Yujin finally stops talking when the two of you almost run into a guy who is just putting his pants back on.

"What the-"

"Relax, mate."

You pat his shoulder and lead Yujin towards the stall that is the furthest away from the door.

"What are you doing here?"

The guy, who seems to be a little older than you, is washing his hands while watching the two of you.

"Don't get any funny ideas. The two of you can go have fun at home."

He shakes his head as he dries off his hands.

"Young people theses days..."

You catch him taking a good look at Yujin.

"Although it's not like I can't blame you. If my wife was this pretty..."

Yujin feels a little uncomfortable as she feels him looking her up and down.

You told her to wear the same outfit, which she wore during her last performance. She thought you did so, because you liked it.

Small denim shorts, a white and black top with blue letters on it, a necklace, a choker and her hair in pigtails.

"You wanna have a go?"

Your question makes Yujin look at you, her mouth open. The guy raises an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Well, I didn't put the butt plug in yet, so her ass might be too tight right now. But her mouth and her pussy are amazing."

Yujin gasped when you first mentioned a butt plug. And now she stares at you in horror. How could you just offer her body, her holes, to someone the both of you don't even know?

"Oppa-"

"I do have a wife..."

She gets interrupted by the guy thinking aloud.

"But I guess a blowjob isn't cheating."

"Of course it's not."

You assure him, while Yujin just stands there, flabbergasted.

What the hell is going on? Why are you doing this? You were always a little possessive, wanting to make sure you're the only one Yujin and Wonyoung sleep with. So why are you offering her up to someone else? Especially without asking her first?

"Oppa, coud we maybe talk for a second?"

She's about to give you a death stare, but you ignore her, while pulling out something from your bag. A collar. With a chain on it.

"What is that?"

An unnecessary question. Yujin has worn this collar a lot of times before.

She leans away, but knows she won't be able to stop you from putting it on her. A moment later, the leather is secure around her neck.

"Would you at least tell me the reason?"

"Because of this."

You gesture at her clothes.

Yujin rolls her eyes.

"This is part of my job, you know? Being an idol?"

"Did you choose the outfit, or did the stylist choose it?"

Your question makes Yujin look down.

"I-I did."

"Thought so."

You pull at her chain, making Yujin stumble into the stall. Before she can react, you tie the chain around the hook that is attached to the wall. Usually people would hang their jackets there. Now it's a way for you to keep Yujin in place. She watches with big eyes as you take out a lock and secure the chain with it. She sees the key disappearing in your pocket.

"Stop this prank, you made your point."

Yujin tries to think positively. There's no way you'd actually do this, right? Letting another man use her mouth?

"We can go home and you can punish me there."

"This fic is called public punishment for a reason."

You walk out of the stall.

"Have fun."

The man looks at Yujin.

"Oppa?"

Yujin calls for you again, while her eyes are focused on the man's crotch. She watches how he pulls down his pants. The young woman can see the outlines of his cock underneath his boxers. She can't help but swallow hard.

He might be a stranger, but that doesn't mean she can't give him head just once, right? She might be an idol, but the guy doesn't seem to know her. And obviously there aren't any cameras here. So why not? You set this up, so Yujin might as well use this opportunity.

She closes her eyes when the man pulls his underwear off. Yujin licks her lips, wanting to get surprised. She smiles, before opening her mouth wide. How many people are you gonna send in here anyway? Three? Not much of a punishment, is it?

Her eyes shoot open when the man fills her whole mouth with one thrust. She didn't expect him to go all in from the beginning. Yujin quickly becomes a toy for this stranger as he uses her pigtails as handlebars. He's fucking her face, while also pulling her head onto his cock.

Yujin was prepared for a couple of lazy blowjobs. The butt plug stuff you mentioned seemed exaggerated to her at that time. Not anymore though. Are you really gonna let random guys have their way with her?

Yujin closes her eyes, letting the man use her mouth however he sees fit.

You feel a little weird as the first guy gives you 5000₩. You put the bill in your wallet and gesture towards the door next to you. He seems to be as old as you. When he opens the door, you hear Yujin gag inside the men's room.

You set up a chair, which people usually use for camping, next to the door. A cardboard sign is standing next to it.

"Mouth 5000₩"

"Pussy 10000₩"

"Ass 20000₩"

As you watch a guy, who barely looks like he is twenty, walk in your direction, you wonder how much money you might be able to make with Yujin today. If only 20 people pay for a blowjob, you'd make 100 000₩ in one day.

As he takes out his wallet to pay you, you hear the door open. The man, whom you met when you went inside with Yujin, is now stepping out of the restroom.

"That was amazing. She is perfect."

"Thanks."

You smile as you receive more money from the younger guy.

Yujin uses her finger to scoop up the rest of the man's cum. He shot his load all over her face and in her mouth without even asking. She was surprised, almost mad, at first. But for some reason Yujin is really starting to get off on this. The idea of more men walking in and just using her like a whore makes her feel warm and fuzzy. She could've sworn the door opened and closed a moment ago, while he was about to cum on her. Does that mean....?

Yujin can barely contain her excitement. Who comes next? When the next man steps into the stall, Yujin smiles up at him. She's aware that the first man probably messed up her face a little bit already. But the guy in front of her now is already taking off his belt. Seems like she doesn't look too bad yet. Yujin's mouth opens as she watches him undress. She doesn't close her eyes this time, wanting to have the full experience.

When he puts his cock in her mouth, Yujin immediately starts to suck him off. It didn't take her long to accept her new role fully. Her lips move along his shaft, making sure not to miss an inch.

"Damn, you're a whore."

Yujin's cheeks turn red as she hears him groan. Was that a compliment? Is she doing a good job?

She decides to do her best, not wanting to disappoint. Soon, the man's hands hold onto her pigtails too. Just like the first man, he begins to fuck her face as well. Yujin looks up at him, giving him her sexiest look, wanting to feel his load down her throat as soon as possible.

It still feels a little awkward to her. Twenty minutes ago, she never thought this would ever happen. Of course she has fantasies. And some of them include more than just one man, no doubt. But now being able to experience this is something different.

As the second man keeps fucking her face, Yujin hears the door open and close again. Her pussy gets even wetter at the thought of more men coming in to use her mouth. She does her best to use her tongue as much as possible, trying to meet the new guy quickly.

"Gosh, you're amazing."

The man, who's cock is in her mouth, groans once more. Yujin feels him throb and just two thrusts later, he buries himself as deep in her as possible. His cum shoots into her mouth and throat, almost leaving her gagging as he pulls out.

"Might come back later again."

"Yes,...."

Yujin coughs due to the cum in her throat.

"Please come again."

She waves after him as he leaves her stall, eager to see who's next. Her eyes widen in surprise when she sees you.

"Oppa?"

"Having fun?"

Your mischievous smile makes her carefully nod her head. Once more shame colours her cheeks red. She shouldn't be enjoying this, it's a punishment after all. But she can't help it.

"Now that more people seem to be interested, I'm afraid we'll have to raise the stakes."

You walk closer and help Yujin to her feet.

"What do you mean?"

"Turn around."

You ignore her question and make her lean face first against the wall of the stall. Yujin feels how you reach around her and unbutton her shorts.

"Wait, oppa. You're not going to let strangers fuck me, right? Right?"

When you don't answer, a shiver runs through Yujin's body. Giving blowjobs to strangers in a random restroom is one thing. But offering her pussy too? Should she really go this far?

Yujin hesitates, thinking about telling you to stop. The sound of someone stepping closer makes her turn her head. She sees another man, who's now looking into the stall. Is he the one who gets to fuck her? Yujin can't help but notice that he is definitely younger than the other two men. Around her age. And undeniably handsome. Maybe just this once is okay?

The man watches as you start to pull down Yujin's shorts. The way she looks at him at the same time, even slowly biting her lip, makes him reach for his crotch. He slowly cups it through his jeans as you let Yujin's shorts drop to the floor.

The young woman is wearing a light blue lace thong. She's naturally arching her back a little, showing off her plump ass. You reach into your pocket and take out the butt plug and a small bottle of lube. After pulling down her panties as well, you coat the metal with the transparent liquid.

"Oppa, what are you doing?"

Yujin expected you to leave again as soon as you took off her panties. Wasn't that what you're here for? Yujin is quickly proven wrong when she feels the slightly cold metal poke at her rear entrance. You free hand pushes one of her cheeks to the side, making it easier for you to slowly work the plug inside of her.

"Just relax."

You whisper into her ear, giving Yujin goosebumps.

This isn't the first time she's wearing a butt plug. You and her have already experimented a couple of times. But quickly it dawns on her, why you're doing this. So you're not just offering her mouth and pussy to strangers, but also her ass?

Yujin expects fear or anger to bubble up inside of her. Instead, she's surprised when she catches herself thinking about someone, who's not you, taking her ass. In the end, it doesn't matter who fucks her as long as she feels good.

Yujin gasps as you finally push the butt plug completely inside of her. You give her ass a playful slap.

"Have fun."

As you place the bottle of lube on the sink before leaving the restroom, you hear Yujin moan.

"Oh, god..."

Yujin sighs as she feels another man shoot his load deep inside her pussy. How many guys have already used her by now? Yujin tries to count. Two came in her mouth, one on her face and three inside her pussy. Makes six. A dumb smile plays around Yujin's lips at that realization. Six guys within what? An hour? Two hours? She doesn't know what time it is.

When she hears the next guy unzip his pants behind her, Yujin feels her pussy getting wet at the sound. The last three guys all fucked her, so she is still standing the way you left her. Body against the wall of the stall. Cheek pressed up against the surface. She is holding onto the wall and the chain that keeps her in place for support. Yujin's legs are growing weak with every pounding she is taking.

"Fuck, you're tight."

The man behind her groans as he slowly pushes into Yujin's cum filled pussy. She lets out a moan herself, not prepared for his size. He lets her get accustomed to it, once he is fully inside of her.

But soon he fucks Yujin hard against the wall, making her eyes roll to the back of her head. Her moans echo through the restroom with every one of his thrusts. She felt his hands on her waist at the beginning. But now he is holding onto and pulling at her pigtails.

Yujin's back arches further, separating her a little from the wall. Which only means the man behind her fucks her harder. Her ass looks way better when she's slightly bent over. Her cheeks clap loudly against his body. Her own moans grow louder.

"Your cheap pussy feels amazing."

He growls into Yujin's ear as he fucks her as hard as he can. The young woman feels a wave of shame and arousal rush through her. Are you charging theses guys money so they can fuck her? And how much is her pussy worth?

Her deepest fantasies come to light once more as Yujin thinks about that. This whole situation is slowly turning her into a pleasure craving whore. Yujin can feel what a slut she's become. Getting used by strangers again and again in the men's bathroom. And you even take money for it as if she is some cheap play thing.

"Please breed my cheap pussy."

Yujin moans when she finally accepts her place. It's the first time she's said something to one of these men.

The man behind her was about to climax anyway. Yujin cries out as she gets cream pied for the fourth thime today. The man behind her groans into her ear, pressing her against the wall as he leans against her.

When he finally recovers from his orgasm, he pulls out of Yujin and gets dressed. She can feel how his cum slowly starts to leak out of her freshly fucked pussy. He slaps one of her ass cheeks one last time and then leaves the stall. Yujin is left alone, cum now running down her legs.

"Just go inside. She's in the last stall."

You collect the money from the 13th man, who is now entering the restroom. You're surprised that it's going so well. It's been barely two hours and you already made more money than you thought you would. Although you did notice that no one has tried Yujin's ass yet. You wonder if most guys are just not into anal, or if you set the price too high.

"Hi, daddy."

Wonyoung's familiar voice makes you look up. She is standing in front of you in a cute white dress, holding a matching purse. Her left hand is holding onto something that looks like a stick, wrapped in a plastic bag.

"I have a present for Yujin unnie. You don't mind if I bring it to her, do you?"

You shake your head, not without noticing how good Wonyoung looks in that dress.

As the younger girl steps into the men's room, she hears Yujin's moans echo off the walls. She hesitates, thinking about waiting for the man to leave. She saw him go inside as she walked towards you. But to her surprise, she hears him groaning already.

"Oh yes, fill that slutty pussy up."

Wonyoung almost laughs at Yujin's words. She did the right thing by telling you what Yujin did during their last performance. She's a cheap slut after all. The complete opposite of Wonyoung. If she can finally make you see that, Wonyoung will have you all to herself. It's just a matter of time.

"That was amazing."

The man praises Yujin, still catching his breath as he pulls his pants back up. Yujin is slightly disappointed that he didn't last long, but she decides to take it as a compliment. It seems like there will be more than enough dicks for her today anyway.

But when the next person steps into the stall, Yujin's eyes become big.

"W-Wonyoung?"

"Hi, unnie."

"What are you doing here?"

Her shakey voice reveals how embarrassed she feels right now. She was completely fine with being used like a slut while she was alone. But now that Wonyoung can see her, she feels ashamed.

And Wonyoung examines Yujin closely. By now, Yujin doesn't look as put together as before. Her pigtails are a little loose and her clothes are lying in a pile in one of the corners of the stall. Her face is mostly clean. There's still some makeup on it, but most has been washed away by now.

"I have an early Christmas present for you."

Yujin narrows her eyes in suspicion at Wonyoung's cheeky smile. She bites her lip when she sees the younger girl holding something that looks like a rod in her hand.

"Is that what I think it is?"

Wonyoung nods.

"Just for you, unnie."

Yujin holds her breath as Wonyoung takes out the mysterious object. It's almost as long as Yujin's entire torso. One end has a hook on it, the other ends in the same shape as the plug inside her ass.

"I don't think this is a good idea, I-"

"But daddy is okay with it."

Wonyoung steps closer. Yujin feels shame rush through her system once more. She is still feeling a little uncomfortable thinking about strangers being inside her most intimate place. So she was glad to some degree that no one seemed to be massively interested in her ass yet. But the anal hook, might have some men change their mind.

"Why are you even doing this? Did I do something wrong?"

Wonyoung chuckles as she stands behind Yujin.

"You know daddy is a little possessive. And acting like that on stage was a little too desperate, if you ask me. He would've found out at some point anyway."

"Wait."

Yujin can feel anger bubbling up inside of her.

"Did you tell on me?"

A sharp hiss escapes her mouth, when she feels Wonyoung carefully pull at the butt plug. She feels the ring of her muscles stretch around the widest part of it, until she is finally left empty.

"Of course I did. I'm a good girl after all."

The younger girl's triumphant tone makes Yujin curse her silently. Of course she did.

Wonyoung looks down on Yujin's gaping hole. She places the anal hook at her leader's rear entrance and starts to push it inside of her.

The older girl's eyes roll to the back of her head as she gets filled once more. She could swear that this one feels bigger than the one before. She's almost left breathless. As she tries to get accustomed to her asshole being stretched out even further, Wonyoung is already using the other end to secure it on Yujin's collar.

"There you go, unnie. You look so beautiful."

"Oh, please. Stop mocking me and leave."

Wonyoung laughs.

"You think I'm done already?"

She shakes her head.

"I'm already here, so why don't I make this visit a special memory for the both of us?"

Her mischievous tone has Yujin sweating. What else is this brat up to?

Wonyoung takes out her phone.

"Smile, unnie."

"What?"

Wonyoung makes a peace sign with her fingers, smiles into the camera and a flash lights up the stall.

"What the hell, Wonyoung? Delete that."

"Oh, unnie. You still think you can order me around?"

The younger girl looks straight at her.

"Now I'm the one in control."

A smile plays around her lips.

"Why don't you kneel down? I'll get a better picture that way."

Yunin rolls her eyes. She could put up a fight if she wanted to. But would you punish her for that as well? Probably. Wonyoung is right. In this moment, Wonyoung is the good girl. But Yujin has still some fight left in her. She just doesn't move.

Wonyoung waits for a couple of moments, but then tugs at Yujin's collar. It's enough for the object inside her ass to move. Yujin gasps. Then bites her lip. The younger girl does it again, a smile still on her lips.

"Come on, unnie. Just one more picture, hmm?"

After hesitating, Yujin finally gives up. She is convinced it's better to let Wonyoung take a picture of her, instead of letting her watch Yujin getting used.

"There you go. You look amazing."

Wonyoung takes the picture and shows it to her.

"See?"

Yujin's cheeks burn red.

There she is. Kneeling on the floor of some restroom stall. A collar around her neck, a chain keeping her in place. The anal hook is visible as well, making the fact that she is naked even worse. Her face doesn't look as good as she has hoped. One can definitely tell that she took a couple of facials today.

"Oh, we got company."

Wonyoung remarks excitedly as the door to the restroom opens.

"Don't be shy, come over here."

She motions the man to walk over to her.

"Hello."

He gives her a quick bow and then his eyes meet Yujin's. She can tell he's hesitating, not having expected to see someone else here.

"Oh, don't mind me. Just enjoy yourself."

The man glances at Wonyoung, before looking back at Yujin. His eyes roam her body for a couple of seconds. Eventually, he undoes the button and the zipper of his jeans.

Yujin's eyes are fixated on his cock as he pulls it out. Definitely one of the biggest she's had so far today.

"Is it okay if I... If I put it in your mouth?"

His words are dirty, but he looks almost innocent. Yujin nods, a small smile playing around her lips. He's cute.

When the man steps closer, Yujin opens her mouth. She wraps her lips around his cock, sucking on his tip. The guy instinctively puts his hand on the back of her head and slowly pushes his length inside of her further.

"Yes, that's it. Make her take it all."

Yujin almost forgot Wonyoung was still there. But now her eyes stare right at Wonyoung's phone, which is obviously recording. Yujin closes her eyes. It's not like Wonyoung will stop if she asks nicely.

"Try to fuck her face. It feels amazing, trust me."

Yujin is cursing Wonyoung silently once more. The man hesitates, but eventually takes a hold of both her pigtails. His first thrust is shallow, almost weak. The next one barely makes her take half his shaft. Yujin opens her eyes to look up at him. She winks playfully and then forces herself further down his cock. If Wonyoung wants a show, so be it. It's not like Yujin will ever recover from this anyway. Might as well make the best out of it.

"Oh, there you go. My unnie is such a cock drunk slut."

Under Wonyoung's dirty commentary, Yujin continues the combination of blowjob and face fuck. The man in front of her has gained a little more confidence and has started thrusting into her mouth a little harder and faster. His grip on her pigtails has tightened. Committed to delivering Wonyoung the most dirtiest video possible, Yujin decides to become sloppy.

She leaves her mouth open a little wider, stops swallowing her own spit and just starts to let it naturally escape her mouth. Soon the man's whole cock is drenched in her saliva. Her knees and the already wet tiles underneath her get hit as well.

Wonyoung bites her lip when she sees Yujin look directly into the camera. She just looks so sexy while getting her face fucked. The younger girl can't help but rub her thighs together. How much she is now longing for your cock using her mouth just like that. She keeps recording as she continues to think about exactly that. How you used her mouth like a toy last night, barely even looking at her, while your eyes were glued to Yujin on screen.

"I-I think I'm gonna finish."

The man who's fucking Yujin's face clearly hesitates, his grip on her pigtails softening. But Yujin just shakes her head and lets her tongue roam his cock.

"Give her your cum, she wants it."

Wonyoung catches the man's red cheeks, but her focus is on making sure that the camera is capturing Yujin, who's doing her best to make him climax.

With a loud groan from the man, she finally achieves her goal. She quickly moves back, letting his cock pop out of her mouth. With closed eyes, Yujin takes his cum like a pro. He paints her face, coating her cheeks, nose and lips in his semen.

"You look amazing, unnie."

Wonyoung has to hold back a laugh after stopping the recording. She takes one last picture of her leader covered in cum for good measure, before deciding to head out.

"Have fun in here. Daddy promised to buy me lunch."

With a provocative wave of her hand, Wonyoung strides towards the exit.

Yujin lets out a weak groan as the man behind her closes his pants again. She's bent over the closed toilet, her ass at the perfect height for anyone who would come in.

The man who just came inside her ass is now putting the anal hook back into place. Yujin grimaces as she feels his cum getting pushed deeper into her guts and the cold metal stretches her out again.

Her assumption was right. After Wonyoung came by, a lot of people started to use her ass. By now, Yujin can't even count anymore how many men have used her throughout the day. Definitely more than twenty. Maybe fifty? Or more than that?

Her weak body has made her feel tired and exhausted. As she hears the door open again, just after the last man closed it, she just sighs in defeat. It's not like she didn't enjoy her punishment. In fact, she's still enjoying it. But a break once in a while would've been nice.

As you walk past the sink, you grab the almost empty bottle of lube. You hold your sign in the other hand, smiling as you check the back. You made a mark for every guy who paid you. You almost earned a month's salary within a day.

"Oppa?"

Yujin looks at you when you walk inside her stall.

"It's time to go home, the mall closes in half an hour."

"Is-Is my punishment over?"

Yujin has slid off the toilet seat and is now kneeling on the floor again.

"Almost."

"Are there still more people, who want to use me?"

She looks tired and worn out, but you catch the small glint in her eyes, when she think there are more men yet to come.

"Well, one to be exact."

Realization hits her immediately.

"You're going to use me too, oppa?"

A grateful smile makes its way onto her lips.

"Yeah."

You put down the sign and undo your belt.

"Why don't you get my cock wet first?"

"Yes, oppa."

Yujin quickly takes her place right in front of you. As soon as your pants hit the floor, her mouth closes around your length. Just like the dozens of times before today, Yujin's head bobs up and down on your cock. Her tongue pressed flat against your shaft, her lips forming an airtight seal.

"That's right."

You encourage her as you take a hold of her pigtails.

"This is all you're good for. Offering up your holes like a public slut."

Yujin moans with your cock in her mouth, sending vibrations through your body.

You soon take over, fucking her face like so many men before you today. The young woman's makeup is completely gone and there are still dried up drops of cum here and there.

Wanting to ruin her face even further, you eventually pull out. Yujin looks up at you, mouth still open. You use your cock to smear her own spit all over her face, making her close her eyes.

"Now you look perfect."

"Thank you, oppa."

Her voice sounds a little dry after getting her throat used so often today.

You reach for her collar and pull Yujin to her feet. She moans loudly, feeling the anal hook move inside her ass, stretching her out even more.

"You like it when people use your ass, don't you?"

Yujin weakly nods.

You finally unlock the lock that kept her in place. Pulling at her chain, you guide Yujin towards the sink.

"There we go. It's time for you to enjoy your reward."

Your calm voice had it's desired effect on Yujin. She looks at you through the mirror at the prospect of a reward.

"Which is my cock in your ass."

Yujin doesn't have time to protest. You start to pull the anal hook out of her hole, making her moan and groan once again.

She doesn't stay empty for long. It only takes you a moment to use up the rest of the remaining lube.

"Oh, god."

She sighs weakly as you fill her up completely with only one stroke. Burying yourself deep inside of her, you lean over her body, whispering in her ear.

"I hope you learned your lesson. If not, this will be the new way of spending your free weekends."

"Yes, oppa. I did."

Her reply is cut short as Yujin feels you moving inside of her.

You're amazed at how tight she still is. For how long was her ass totally filled? Probably longer than five hours or something. It still feels as good as if you just pushed into her for the very first time. The tight ring of her muscles grips onto your cock as you thrust into her again and again.

Yujin can't do anything but look at herself through the mirror as her ass takes one last pounding. She's relieved that the day is finally over, that she can rest soon. And yet, she can't help but beg you to fuck her harder.

"Please, oppa. Give it to me hard. One last time."

You hold onto her waist, increasing your pace as you start to properly ruin Yujin's asshole.

She can feel your cock drag along her walls. How your tip reaches the deepest of places, how your hands dig into her flesh.

"Oppa..."

A small, almost lazy, orgasm washes over her.

Yujin doesn't even have enough energy to support her upper body anymore. She's is just lying on top of the sink, enjoying how you use her body for your own pleasure.

"Fuck, Yujin. I'm gonna fill you up."

"Yes, oppa."

Yujin looks at you through the mirror.

"Cum in my ass."

Her weak voice almost tempts you to grab her pigtails and properly ruin her one last time. But you acknowledge that she must be completely dead inside.

You enjoy her tight warmth for a little longer, until you can't hold it back anymore. Leaning over her again, you rest your head on her shoulder. Being buried deep inside her ass, you finally cum, filling her completely.

"Damn, your body is amazing, Yujin."

You don't get answer. Looking through the mirror, you make sure she didn't just fall asleep.

"How many?"

Her voice is barely above a whisper, when she finally speaks up.

"What?"

"How many men used me today?"

You plant a kiss on the back of her head.

"63."

---------

Hi, everyone!

The first story of December is here. I hope you enjoyed the read, there are four more fics to come. The length and quality of the next stories will increase (I hope) so that we have one big final for the last story.

Stay healthy!

[gutsby]

Stupid Prizes

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Before you head back to college, your dad wants to go on one last family outing: the county fair. The only problem? Your secret fuckbuddy, Joel, is there.

Warnings: 18+. Sneaky, unprotected p-in-v. Joel pining for you while your dad is beside him, oblivious for now. Semi-public sex (on a ferris wheel—don’t ever do that). Gross misuse of a candy apple. Age gap. Jealous Joel. Teasing. Angst(!) Mentions of infidelity/abandonment.

Word count: 10.0k

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

The gingham dress was your best idea yet.

For Joel, nothing could’ve been worse.

He’d cum down your throat no more than ten minutes ago, and with just a glimpse of your new getup bounding down the stairs—you’d had to change after he painted your last one white—Joel almost inhaled his Heineken.

He coughed and sputtered and hacked the beer back up while you strolled past the sofa and grinned at your dad.

“Ready to go, old man?”

It was just a short red frock with a sweetheart neckline.

The fabric cinched at the waist and flowed with every step you would take. Turning slightly to toy with the hem, and teasing the only eyes on you, you corrected yourself:

“Sorry…old men, I mean.”

Something like amusement flashed in Joel’s eyes.

Didn’t seem to mind this old man’s cock down your—

“I was born ready, kid,” your dad answered, still messing with something on his key ring, “How ‘bout you, Miller?”

“Yessir.” Joel stood.

He recalled you saying something similar before opening your mouth in the guest bathroom just fifteen minutes earlier. Joel’s cock twitched in his jeans at the memory, and his cheeks might’ve tinged a little, remembering how fast he’d cum. You’d only smiled and sucked your thumb, getting a taste of the residue that had missed your chest.

“Quite a mess you made there, Joel.”

And you repeated those words, at length, with only you and him to know what it had meant to you both before.

You gestured to the smattering of crushed potato chips on his shirt, and your grin got bigger. Joel grew redder.

“Yeah…” he mumbled, brushing the crumbs off his front. He wasn’t nearly as fast with the comebacks as he was with other kinds of comings and goings, and he knew it. He set the bag of Lays aside and seemed ready to leave.

But when he’d licked the salt off his lips and caught you staring—when he saw his friend go back to the kitchen:

“I had to be quick,” he said. Then, lowering his voice, “You know better’n anyone what a messy eater I am.”

Of course you knew that. Joel winked at you, and you winked back, mostly making fun of the boomer move. He reached for you—the edge of your skirt scarcely hanging a fraction of the way down your thighs—and he opened his mouth to speak again, when there was the sound of heavy boots at the threshold of the room. Joel leaned past your body and snagged the bag of chips instead.

“Food for the road?” He turned to his friend.

“All you,” your dad replied, smiling and waving the chips off as he went for the front door, “I swear your stomach’s a bottomless pit, man. Eatin’ me outta house and home.”

Joel looked at you when your dad was past you both.

House and home ain’t the only thing I’m gonna—

“Let’s go,” you chirped, fast, “I call shotgun!”

This would be a long, long day, no doubt.

The county fair had been his friend’s idea. One last day of ‘family fun’ before his little girl went back to school out East, and Joel hadn’t seen Bellville in years, so he’d asked him if he wanted to join. After a shared, brief stint in abstinence camp, the answer should’ve been clear:

‘NO.’

But Joel hadn’t learned very much from the Fireflies in the less than 72 hours he’d spent living—and also fucking you—there, so he’d nodded and said ‘Okay.’

Now you were twenty minutes out from the fairgrounds with a near-depleted tank of gas in the truck, obliged to make a quick pit stop at a Texaco. It was the first time he’d been alone with you since you’d set off from Austin. The second his friend was gone and headed inside to buy a pack of smokes, he heard a seatbelt come undone.

Earlier, he had raced you and beat you to the car to lay claim on the passenger seat, so you’d been in the back this whole time. He barely saw you before he felt you, climbing over the center console and then into his lap.

Straddling him while the Eagles played faintly overhead.

“Feel fucking insane not being able to touch you right now,” you huffed against his lips, kissing him hungrily.

Joel groaned. Felt your lower half grind into his. Almost rutted his hips up and yearned to have you seated on something other than just his denim-clad crotch when he sucked in a breath and remembered where he was. He nudged your hips and fisted the fabric in his hand.

“You in this dress ain’t helpin’ me either,” he growled.

You grinned against him, then hiked the red-and-white material up your legs a little more. Joel felt something like a shockwave when he saw what was underneath it.

Or, rather, what wasn’t there at all: your panties.

“Bathroom quickie?” you said, already breathless, “I’ll tell my dad I got cramps. I’ve been so wet this whole ti—”

“Darlin’.”

Joel’s eyes had drifted down to the place where your body and his were touching—rubbing—now. Even from this limited vantage point, he could see a glistening patch sticking from your bare seam to his jeans, and it was pooling on the fabric. Practically oozing out of your cunt while you rocked your hips and begged him please.

“Please, just one. I’ll be good the rest of the day, daddy.”

“Fuck,” Joel hissed.

His pupils were wide, and his mind was seriously considering it. Stupidly so, he reckoned; your dad was bound to be back any second, and surely you couldn’t both be gone for more than five minutes without raising suspicions. It was a reckless endeavor, he already knew.

And when he saw his old friend strolling out the front doors of the Texaco, his decision was made for him.

He watched you scramble off his lap and back to your seat, body quick and lithe and giggling the whole way.

“Gonna get me murdered, girl,” Joel panted, gruff.

Your own smile didn’t waver; you just settled back into the middle seat and let your gaze trail out the window, trying to fix your eyes on something to calm you down.

You already had the sense that nothing would. Your teeth bit your bottom lip between them to forestall the threat of another laugh while your dad approached the vehicle.

From the radio, ‘Life in the Fast Lane’ kept playing.

As old as they were, Joel Miller and your dad had a funny way of acting more like kids than you ever had, at any age. As your trio approached the wide, gleaming gates of the Austin County Fair, you saw your dad nudge Joel, and Joel shoved him back, and somewhere in the midst of all the ribbing, you heard your dad say, clear as day:

“If I’m takin’ a whole day off work, I’m gettin’ hammered.”

You knew by that tone this would an interesting afternoon, to say the least. You held your ticket tighter.

And for a moment, you wished you’d worn underwear. It’d been a split-second decision to peel them off before skipping downstairs, and it had worked well enough—Joel walking with a limp all throughout the parking lot and trying to shield the tent in his jeans—but now you were the one in greater danger still. Seeing your secret family-friend-with-benefits in his tight, light, heather grey shirt and jeans, hips adorned with a hefty belt and moving deliciously with each new step he took, you were transfixed. Left to watch him and gawk and grow wetter between the legs with every passing second, there was nothing you could do about it now. Likely sensing this, Joel raked a hand through his grey-flecked hair and hummed to himself. His bicep bulged through the sleeve.

“Nice little view, ain’t it?” he asked, nodding to the outline of a dozen shining rides and attractions ahead.

Go fuck yourself, Joel.

“Can’t wait to ride that.” You pointed to the ferris wheel, though the finger in your mind was aimed closer to him.

“Funnel cake,” your dad beamed, eyeing a nearby stand.

The three of you weren’t walking for much longer before he insisted on buying one. Joel had had a hankering for lemonade himself, so he’d fallen in line behind you and your dad. When it was your turn to order, you paused.

Then, pointing again:

“Can you get me one of those?”

You’d had to stand on tiptoes to see it inside the display, but from Joel’s own height, he was certain to have seen what you meant. While your dad shilled out the cash, not batting an eye, the man behind him clenched his jaw.

Candy apple, hon? Real fuckin’ mature.

Your eyes met his as soon as you’d turned, treat in hand.

I thought you liked seeing big things in my mouth, Joel.

He would’ve scowled if he wasn’t next in line—and your dad wasn’t walking so close behind, sniffing his food.

Joel ordered his drink, drank it fast, and found his thirst no better quenched than when he’d started. You’d sat across from him at the table and made sure of that.

You dragged your tongue up the sugar-coated apple just like you’d done to his shaft that morning and blinked, savoring the taste. Feigning innocence as he looked on.

And what else could he do? If not watch you, then peer at your father, furtively, and make sure he wasn’t able to see so much as a second of this little show you were putting on now. Joel glanced around you, too. No one else seemed to notice what was going on, even when your lips left a soft, sweet suction near the top of the apple, and he could’ve sworn he’d heard you moan.

It was just in his head. He was remembering how you’d done it that morning, mouth sinking down his length and whimpering when you’d reached the base. The way your eyes had watered, your free hand had reached between your legs, and your lips had welcomed him in; it was all burned in his memory, and not retreating any time soon.

Neither was the blood rushing to his dick, he reckoned.

You didn’t seem to care. Even when a bright pink river of spit and sugar trickled out of your mouth, you didn’t flinch. You let it slide down to your chin. Right before it reached the end of your face, and you were certain Joel’s gaze was glued to the spot, you licked a little bit of it off. You didn’t get it all in one go, so you shifted your snack to the other hand and then swiped your thumb under your lips. You brought it up to your mouth and sucked it, just like you’d done with Joel’s cum on it earlier that day.

Joel chucked his cup in the trash. Your dad took another bite of his deep-fried pastry and, talking between chews:

“That was fast.”

“Need’a stretch my legs,” Joel announced, abrupt.

He turned to you, and your thumb came out of your mouth. The frown on his face was unmistakable, though your father probably thought it was just from having to squint against the sun. Not because he was incensed.

Out for revenge.

“Ready to get wrecked, kiddo?” he asked you.

Your eyes widened, and your tongue quit licking.

What?

Then you saw him nod to some spot over your shoulder. You didn’t have the nerve to follow his gaze as he did.

Faintly, you could make out a smirk crossing his lips.

“Arcade’s over there. Unless you’re too scared.”

Your dad raised a dumbass, not a quitter.

You’d accepted Joel’s proposal without a second thought, and your father seemed pleased to have the chance to peruse the food stands and beer carts to his heart’s content. You’d set off quickly. Your candy apple was still in your hand when you saw your friend lean over.

Joel opened his mouth, and he took a big, angry bite.

“You’re insane,” he said after, words muffled by fruit.

You took your first steps inside the dark, cool building littered with machines and fun activities of every kind, and deep down, you were happy you’d had that treat. You took a bite yourself, then discreetly patted his ass through his jeans and told him, ‘Only for you, Miller.’

You weren’t sure why you’d said it. As soon as the words came out of your mouth, you regretted it, no matter how stupid and playful the message was meant to be read. But then Joel nudged you back—actually wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side.

His mouth was close to you, and you could feel the smile:

“Just how I like it.”

Your cheeks heated a little. You weren’t so fond of the intimate move—in public like this, even as dark as the arcade happened to be—but you couldn’t deny the flutter in your stomach. You swallowed the rest of your apple, and with it, any shred of emotion, or so you were hoping. You nudged Joel off of you under the guise of trying to point to something new, and his eyes followed.

“C’mon. At least pick something you’ve got half a shot of winning,” he said, swiftly. Sounding smug as he spoke.

You plodded on anyway, not hesitating at all.

“I’ve got more than half a shot,” you assured him, tone arguably twice as conceited, “Now if you’re scared—”

“You can’t use my own lingo against me, little girl.”

“Then nut up or shut up, old man.”

Joel scoffed. You chewed. The two of you approached the Skee-Ball machines with near identical looks of ambition and zeal, and sensing this tension wouldn’t dissipate with any more shit-talking, you got to work.

The first game was close. You beat him by less than ten points, and you guessed that that had been due in part to Joel’s own will. You saw him make more than two pitches so outrageously bad that you’d had to have guessed he was going easy on you. As soon as you felt that, you’d scowled. Pointed angrily at the scoreboard.

“You can’t just let me win, Miller!” you said, shrill.

Joel’s hands went up, and you knew he’d deny it all.

“No need to gloat, now, honey—”

“Fuck off,” you snapped, all while fighting back a smile, “Gimme your A game or don’t bother playing, honey.”

And he did.

The next game left you destroyed, roughly 900 to 320. You stepped back from the machine, feeling a frown start to form on your lips but knowing you’d asked for this, and just as Joel was about to lean in to offer a conciliatory hug, he had to stop. Both of you turned.

Somewhere behind you, you’d heard a voice.

It was young, male, and audibly amused.

“He really whooped your ass, huh?”

Your eyebrows raised as soon as you saw the source. Your scowl morphed into a smile, and your eyes were bright—too bright, almost. You ran over to hug the boy.

He was a boy, after all. Likely no more than half Joel’s weight soaking wet and wearing the biggest, dumbest grin that could only belong to a guy your age. He hugged you back, and his arms tightened around you. Comfily.

“Wade!” you gushed, squeezing him hard. You stepped back and looked him over, as if in shock, “It’s been…”

“Forever,” Too-comfy-cozy Wade finished for you.

Joel frowned.

“And here I thought you were gone away for good!” you laughed, “Went off to get that fancy Stanford degree—”

“—and you, in Boston—” the boy chimed in.

Before the reminiscing could go on much further, you remembered yourself and turned back to Joel. Still beaming as bright as you’d been when you first saw the kid, you gestured indistinctly, tongue-tied for a second.

“This— Joel, this is Wade Pritchett, one of my friends from high school,” you introduced him. Letting the two men—or, rather, mustached boy and muscled man—shake hands. Evidently, you were too stoked to notice.

“He moved out to Sacramento our senior year, and none of us thought— well, we— we figured we’d probably never see him again. Fuckin’ west coast hot shot he is.”

You smirked as you nudged his ribs, and something in Joel turned to month-old milk: sour, rancid, and heavy. His stomach turned inside him, and he hardly knew why. All he noticed was that he didn’t like the eyes you were making at him, and he hated the face Wade had for you.

Joel was just looking out for you, really.

You could do so much better than this douche.

“This is my friend,” you said to Wade, motioning back. Then, reconsidering just a second, “My dad’s friend.”

Joel didn’t like that.

Wade gave him a brief once-over and hardly seemed to see him at all. In that millisecond of a look, Joel saw it:

‘Old family friend. No worries there.’

Foolishly, Joel wished the chump could’ve seen what you’d been doing the night before—impaled on his cock and riding him as hard as your knees would allow you:

‘Daddy, please, daddy, daddy, daddy.’

“Joel?” Your voice cut in his mind like a knife.

Joel blinked.

“Yeah?”

“Okay if Wade joins?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah.”

Not that it mattered now. Royal pain-in-the-ass Pritchett was already getting the machine next to yours set up.

Joel eyed him once more and tried to swallow his pride.

Somewhere along the way, it got stuck in his throat.

Three rounds was all he could take.

You on Wade, Wade on you—goading each other on in the most sly, flirtatious ways. Or maybe it was just Joel imagining that. Regardless, the man didn’t feel guilty at all when, at the conclusion of the third game, he’d tried to feign a casual tone and told you your dad would be expecting you back any minute, better wrap things up.

“He texted me like twenty minutes ago saying he’d be neck-deep in craft beer for an hour. I think we’re good,” you replied, and the indifference in yours didn’t have to be faked. You grinned at Wade, and Wade grinned back.

“Well, he texted me a second ago that he was holding a spot for us in line at the ferris wheel, so let’s roll, kid.”

That was a lie.

Joel didn’t like himself for doing it. But, again, he didn’t like Wade Pritchett even more, and he reasoned that he was doing you a favor, anyway. He searched for the exit.

“It’s alright, my mom’s probably looking for me, too.”

We get it, Pritchett. You’re a mama’s boy.

“Ah, okay.” You almost sounded sad.

Don’t be, baby. You’re daddy’s girl, remember?

Wade pulled you in for a hug; Joel wanted to deck him.

“I’ll be in town all week if you wanna—”

“I wish. My flight leaves tomorrow,” you cut in. Now your tone was really despondent. Your mouth was pouting.

It was just Joel’s eyes. He was seeing things. He was thinking you cared for this guy more than you probably ever did, and he was getting himself worked up over nothing. He clenched one hand into a fist by his side and waited for the anger to subside. Sadly, it was slow to go.

“Maybe we could…go out for drinks later or something?”

That suggestion didn’t make things any easier on Joel.

“I’d love to.”

Your reply didn’t exactly set his mind at ease, either.

At last, he decided he’d had enough. Turning on his heels, he bid a terse goodbye to shithead Pritchett and walked out of the arcade. He didn’t stop until he’d hit one of the bar carts your dad had been raving about outside.

He contemplated buying a drink. Maybe two. In fact, he’d just been eyeing three cans of Coors Light and was fishing for his wallet when he heard your voice again.

“Joel?”

“Yeah?” His tone was clipped.

If you felt it, you didn’t show it.

“Are we riding the ferris wheel or not?”

He probably should’ve given a verbal answer in the affirmative. Instead, he’d just nodded his head and started off the other way, expecting you to follow.

The walk was short. You’d had to weave through a sea of fairgoers, including schoolkids, college-aged drunks, and more than a fair share of loved-up couples, but that wasn’t too bad. Joel just ignored each one and didn’t stop until you’d reached the line for the ferris wheel.

Or what was left of the line, anyway.

Unlike what Joel had told you, there was no wraparound queue for you to join. Your father wasn’t there. Once you’d passed a look over the dozen-odd people waiting patiently for it to be their turn on the ride, you felt your stomach turn. Joel had never texted your dad at all.

“He’s not coming, is he?” Dispensing with the obvious.

Joel still wouldn’t look your way. He’d just sidled up behind the last people in line—a group of older folks who all seemed eager to get on the ferris wheel. You scoffed when you saw Joel’s expression harden, and you planned to turn away. Then the people up front started to move. For a moment, you were torn between telling him off and leaving him there. At length, you settled on saying, low:

“You lied.”

Joel followed the moving line, and a few more people started to trickle in behind you. Before you could even think to speak again, you were nudged ahead by the force of that crowd, and had only to keep glaring.

“Hey—” you hissed, only five steps away from the platform now. The ride attendant was scanning the line, appearing to count the people approaching the gate, and when his eyes landed on you, you made out a little grin.

“Aww, your daughter scared’a heights or somethin’?”

He’d said it to Joel, sounding cheeky. His teeth gleamed in the light of a hundred different neon bulbs, and you had to avert your face to keep from revealing its disgust.

So everyone else still thinks he’s my dad. That’s nice.

You couldn’t see Joel’s expression, but you imagined it looked the same. You shuffled ahead, reluctantly, and heard a lady behind you laugh; the sound had a tipsy lilt.

“My kid’s the same way—you’ll be fine, hon,” she slurred.

Heights aren’t the issue here, you’d wanted to snap back, for no other reason than your own disdain for Joel and the present situation. He walked in front of you, still refusing to meet your gaze, and soon you were perched on the platform, sandwiched between two semi-rowdy throngs of fairgoers with no clear means of escape. You crossed your arms and stared up at the back of his head. The look you gave him probably could’ve burned holes in his skull if irritation had been the means of achieving it.

You were seated on the ride in minutes. The compartment was surprisingly large, and its walls high, with glass on every side. Under a waning afternoon sun, the views you expected to see were bound to be pretty. All that was left to detract from its splendor was Joel— hunkered down opposite you and manspreading. Wide.

Sitting in total silence with his denim-covered legs split in a ‘V’. Watching you and rubbing one thigh, absently.

“You’ve got some nerv—” you started in.

“Yeah, no. No. That kid was gettin’ on my nerves—”

It amazed you how fast Joel was to return your words with a hostile quip of his own, anger flashing in his eyes.

“What’d he even do?! He’s my friend— my best friend—”

Fury flitted to something like discomfort, momentarily.

“Oh yeah? Just friends?”

“What the fuck does it matter to you?”

In your own expression, rage flared unchecked. You didn’t particularly care what Joel thought now if he was immature enough to act like this, and the walls of the compartment were thick enough to prevent anyone else’s hearing a word of it. The ride continued to rumble along, letting on new passengers with each new stop.

Joel might’ve paused. Could’ve stared out the window for all you knew—everything but the wheel itself seemed to be moving at lightning speed, and time was sliding.

“Because I— I— I give a shit, kid. I care.”

“And that makes lying to me alright?”

“I was just worried for your—”

“Bullshit. What would you need to be so worried about? Me playing Skee-Ball with an old friend and maybe getting drinks? You can fuck right off with that.”

Joel opened his mouth to speak, but he shut it when the ride suddenly jolted to a stop. It sputtered. Then, after a long, tense moment, it slowly ascended again. You took this lull in speech as your own chance to re-intervene:

“That’s not ‘care.’ Or ‘worry,’” you continued, words dripping with condescension, “That’s controlling.”

“Controlling?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

Joel Miller always did.

“It’s not—”

“It is—”

“Protecting you from assholes like him—”

“—he’s not—and I never asked you to do that!”

“So I just sit by and watch him touch what’s mine—”

“I’m not yours, Joel!”

Your last words echoed through the car like a shotgun’s report. You’d said it with such force—so emphatic for him not to be mistaken in what this was, or whose you were—when you hardly even knew how you felt yourself. It was a knee-jerk reaction, and one that Joel knew only too well. The last time you two fucked, he’d begged the same: ‘Say you’re mine,’ and no matter how close you’d been to release at the time, you simply couldn’t say it. Now, clear-headed and mostly clothed, you still despised those words. Emotions. Uniquely juxtaposed with Joel’s jealousy over Wade, you’d never wanted to say it louder:

“I’m not yours, and I never will be. So just stop.”

More cruel.

“Are we clear?”

The car came to a halt near the top. When Joel still hadn’t deigned to answer, you leaned in closer.

“I said, are we fucking clear, Miller?”

Then you didn’t have to wait.

“I hear you.”

Of course he heard. His face was hard. His eyes were like two brown stones in the sockets, and the line of his mouth was tight. Whatever use you might’ve had in trying to decipher that look was ignored for the time being; you were still too angry. And, perhaps owing to this state—with a white-hot look fixed on him and your head full of blinding, bitter thoughts—you were more than susceptible to surprise. You jumped when you felt it.

Felt him with a hand moving from his leg to yours.

It went quick but was almost too ridiculous to fathom—how swift Joel was in reaching for you, hoisting you into his lap, letting your limbs straddle his hips with all the ease of old, welcome habits. It might’ve worked just as well, were it not for the tension in your legs. The short, sharp, ‘Joel’ and a look flitting out to either side of you.

“What?” he grunted.

You heard a fly unzip.

“We’re on a—”

Before you could finish, and as if to furnish the answer for you, the ride shuddered back to life. Its descent was slow, but any movement now made your stomach churn. It didn’t matter that most of the cabin was encased in metal, the rest semi-tinted plexiglass, or that your space was almost entirely shielded from the view of other cars—it was too much of a risk, as was everything with him.

Joel remained blind to it all. Your cabin came to a stop, still high in the sky, and then you felt him grip something between you. In one swift motion, he had the head of his cock rubbing your seam. You sighed; his eyes were cold.

“C’mon then…show me what ain’t mine,” he murmured.

His voice was low. You hated those words. This was more than just that. Your cunt slid and accepted him anyway.

For a second, your gaze was level with his. Your hips hadn’t stirred, and he was crawling inch-by-inch inside you, pulling you down. The act could’ve been intimate, had the words that passed before not been so harsh—and the place not been a fucking amusement park.

When the ride resumed its slow, rumbling circuit, he didn’t make your bodies part, but instead flipped you around. Your back was flush with his front, and by all appearances, you were innocently perched on his lap.

What the tens, or dozens, or hundreds of strangers ambling around down below couldn’t see was that a cock was nestled inside you, too. That with every gentle bump of the wheel, a man several decades your senior was filling you to the hilt, sending waves of pleasure through your body and his while he stuffed you tight. What your dad didn’t know was that this was his friend. That the nose nudging the skin between your sleeve and your neck belonged to Joel, and his breaths were short.

Trying to calm the flutter of his pulse and the pull of his lungs, he flattened his hands on either one of your thighs. He rubbed his palms back and forth, and you glanced down to find the insides of your legs extra shiny.

Slick, pretty, and full of him. He tilted your chin back up.

“Nice and quiet for daddy—nice and still. No squirmin’.”

He nudged your hips forward, and his cock brushed a wet, spongy ridge inside you. You had to purse your lips to swallow a noise. You felt your cunt drool even more.

The car swung low, in the line of sight of far too many eyes, and then it stopped again. You weren’t at liberty to move at all, and still, the feel of Joel inside you was raw.

Grating, almost.

It made the prospect of conversation seem the tiniest bit easier, though—forced to face away from each other and act civil now. Right before the ride started up again, you gripped the armrest and anchored your feet to his boots.

“Feels…good,” you whimpered.

“That so?” Joel murmured back.

“So—oh.”

Your words fell apart at the next brush of his hand, sliding down to your heat and taking his index and middle fingers to the precious, pulsing bud in between.

Soon the car was up at a comfortable height. You sighed.

Your legs pressed together over Joel’s, and you felt him rub the tips of his fingers even harder, circles tighter.

“I know,” he said, sensing your words before they came, “I know it feels nice, baby. Keep that chin up for daddy.”

Don’t let them know I’m inside you. Stay quiet.

But his girth was so much. The tug of his smooth, throbbing manhood between your walls was almost more than you could take. You laced the fingers of your free hand with his over your thigh, and you held them tight as your hips wriggled back. You couldn’t help it, feeling a welt of pleasure start to blossom in your belly.

“Joel—” you started.

“Don’t talk,” Joel grumbled, stern, “It’ll draw attention.”

You sensed there was more to it than that. Your fingers threaded even deeper through his, and he squeezed them back. Between your bodies, there rose a soft, gentle tap, tap, tap with the thrusts Joel was able to deliver now that you were back up high and out of sight. If there was any time to speak, this was your window.

Joel probably wished you hadn’t, but you tried, anyway.

“You know it’s been years since—”

“Since?”

Now you didn’t want to say it. But you knew you had to.

“Wade’s been my friend since—”

Another influx of something soft and tender inside you. Joel holding your hand, pushing himself deeper, and trying not to groan when you clenched around him. Hating that he had to hear that name, most likely.

You despised the words even more before you said them:

“—since my mom left.”

It was an awful time to be bringing this up, admittedly. Both of you on the brink of release with Joel’s cock buried as far inside you as it would go, his fingers entwined with yours, and the ride drifting lower.

And lower, lower, lower still. Joel’s breaths picked up.

The car shuddered to a halt almost halfway down. You didn’t have to see his face to picture it a little more rigid than it’d been before. He’d known your dad long enough to remember the time his wife had walked out on him.

“When we were, like, thirteen—” You continued, as if you needed to remind him of any of the particulars. Joel hardly knew you back then, though, “—he was my friend. Wade’s been one of my— my closest— he was there—”

You couldn’t be sure if it was the subject of discussion or simply how close you were to cumming that kept your tongue from forming a coherent string of words, but here you were. Joel’s grip on your hand had loosened, and the movements of his hips had slowed considerably. You hoped he’d be too lost in his own pleasure to care.

“I remember,” he returned quietly.

That was all he said for a moment. Out of habit, your legs parted more for his touch, and you whimpered, feebly, as the fingers kept circling your clit. The ride started again.

“You don’t have to—” And again, his voice was low.

“I’m not saying that as an— as an excuse or anything.”

You didn’t know why you were saying it at all. You just wanted Joel to know he didn’t need to be jealous. That Wade had been a friend through a dark and bleak season of your life, and that was all it had ever, or would ever, be.

While the car was still suspended in air, and the sights below all relatively small, you got the sense you’d have to deal with this budding bliss inside you a bit quicker than anticipated. Joel was all wordless encouragement. You almost wished you could’ve seen his face as he urged you to come undone, keep making yourself feel good, that’s it, cum for me, but frankly, it was probably for the best you couldn’t look him in the eye right now. Beyond just needing release, you wanted him to see you in a more vulnerable light than you’d ever been—facing away seemed the least painful position to have that happen.

With your fingers and his still interlaced and your hips moving a little more quickly, Joel could feel your pleasure soaking his jeans, and he pulled you down closer to him.

He nudged the back of your neck with his nose. He panted against it gently, tenderly. Then he kissed it.

“Don’t need’a say anything else, darlin’. I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry.

Under any other circumstances, an apology from a man would have been the last thing to send you over the edge, but today, you couldn’t help it. Just as the car started up again, you hit your peak with Joel still stuffed inside you, and you gripped his hand as hard as you could. You fought to keep the moans contained behind your lips, but it was hard—and Joel’s constant, tender caresses with his lips and fingers made it that much worse. He trailed kisses down your neck and shoulder and told you gently, ‘That’s it, good girl, that’s my girl.’

My girl.

Again.

You almost didn’t mind it being said this time around.

Almost.

In truth, you didn’t have half a mind to think much of anything in that moment. You just curled your toes and pressed your back into Joel while the warm, euphoric waves coursed through you, and you let yourself be content with what he’d said. Whatever he meant by it.

In the minute that followed, you sensed he was perilously close to finishing, too. So, as soon as you’d made it down from your high—and the ride, too, was circling back and making its way through the final cycles—you crawled off of Joel. You got on your knees. For the first time in what seemed like hours, you locked eyes with him; your mouth moved lower still. You’d barely latched your lips onto the head of his cock before he was shooting off rope after rope after rope of his cum. Warmth splattered down your tongue and throat, and you swallowed it all obediently.

You didn’t need to be told when the ride was over. You heard a buzz, felt it jolt, and, unfortunately for you and Joel, your car was one of the first to be let off. You had to hurry off your knees and back into your seat, across from your panting, silver-haired friend, just seconds before the door to your left swung open. You began to stand.

Joel followed you out. His spend was still stuck to your throat in some places, the scent of his skin and his stubble and his extra heavy load all fresh to your senses. You wiped one corner of your mouth and kept walking.

And it was in this state you remained another second or two. You were just about to take your first steps off the platform, mind floating over somewhere tranquil and warm, when your thoughts were presently interrupted.

Your steps, too, were cut short. Joel had stopped you.

Then he grabbed your face, and he kissed you.

Your world froze a moment. You didn’t have time to think, or react, or even kiss him back, so you just stood there and let him hold you to him. It was over in a blink.

And one glance over Joel’s shoulder after he did it, to the ride attendant and nearly every last person in line, said they were just as stunned. Some sick, by the looks of it.

‘He’s NOT my dad!’ you wanted to yell, out of habit.

Seeing the eyes Joel had fixed on you—the smile that followed—their suspicions didn’t matter to him at all.

You walked off together, still considering those words:

My girl.

A month wouldn’t be so bad. Two was tolerable, even.

The next few hours spent with Joel made it seem like you could go a year or longer without seeing his face, and nothing between you would change too much.

He was a friend. A good friend. Not just your dad’s old companion, but your own. Whatever else was left beyond that could be explored down the road, but for now, you were content to just let him hold your hand in places you weren’t likely to be seen, and kiss you in those he hoped your dad wouldn’t be. Maybe fuck you on a ferris wheel.

At the thought of going back to college tomorrow, not seeing him again until Thanksgiving or Christmas at the earliest, you didn’t feel too sad. You did get an extra burst of yearning when Joel’s hands would find your hips and push you off to some shaded, semi-discreet area and he’d tell you, softly, ‘I don’t know what I’m gonna do without ya, kid’ before kissing you with a hunger all over again. That made you think you might miss him a little.

You’d warned him not to lie to you again. He promised he wouldn’t. You believed him, at least as far as your general mistrust of men would allow, and you had left it at that.

Now the tips of his fingers were brushing your own, and his mouth was grinning—coated in all sorts of sauces from the barbecue you two had been devouring. It was approaching six o’clock. He held the last Carolina-style pulled pork slider up to you, and you shook your head.

“I’m stuffed,” you said, pained.

Really, you were. You and Joel had decided to join in on the fair’s 25th annual BBQ and Chili Cook-off an hour ago, and now your stomachs were suffering immensely.

You made a face in disgust when he tried to push it closer, ‘Joel, I’ll projectile vomit if you don’t— don’t—’

You squealed when he leaned in, thinking he was planning to smush the patty in your face—you’d done that to him with some coleslaw not too long ago—but instead, he dropped the burger. He pressed what non-sticky parts of his hands he could get on your face and, cupping your cheeks between his palms, he kissed you.

Then he kissed you again, and again, and again.

This time, it felt more like an attack. Not an attempt at being affectionate, which he’d shown himself amply capable of all day, but really just a way to smear your lips and chin with sauce and get you extra pissed off at him.

It worked. You bit his lower lip at the last kiss.

And, instead of wincing in pain or biting you back, Joel surprised you by groaning a little bit against your mouth. His grip loosened from your face, and he leaned back.

‘Behave’ was all he said. Smirking.

If any one of Joel Miller’s quasi-fatherly lectures had ever met with success before, this would not be one of them. You only rolled your eyes and were about to reply with some variant of ‘Make me’ when your phone buzzed in your pocket. You pulled it out to see the new notification.

Nothing more than a reminder to check in for your flight. But that sight also roused some awareness in you that it was just then starting to get late, and you hadn’t heard a word from your father in hours. You and Joel had been extraordinarily fortunate that day in hearing that your dad happened to run into some friends at the livestock show, and had been occupied—plastered, most likely—ever since. You hadn’t thought to question it before, just happy to have your dad out of your hair for the afternoon, but now that it was late and all the shows were long since over, you had to wonder if it wasn’t time to shoot him that text. Bring your last happy, fun-filled night with Joel for the next two months to an end, and head home.

You started to send him a message. Joel peered over your shoulder, absently wiping his hands on a napkin.

“He said he was headed over to a concert last time we talked. Some band he likes,” he hummed, “Wanna go?”

You weren’t too keen on seeing the likes of any Creed-adjacent artist your dad so loved to listen to himself, but if it gave you an excuse to stretch your time with him and Joel, you didn’t mind. You nodded, then deposited your phone back into your pocket. You were just about to stand when Joel held you back. He’d snagged your hand.

“Hang on, ya got a little—” he said, soft. Then he lifted his napkin and started wiping at the sides of your mouth. His motions had all the crude, brute force of a man who’d never wiped a person’s face before—he seemed more concerned getting the vinegar-based glaze off your cheeks than impressing you with how tender he could be—but the gesture was received well enough. For once, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes and just smiled.

“You’re taking me to the airport tomorrow, right?”

“Long as it’s alright with your dad.”

“You could spend the night, too.”

Joel paused. He flitted a look from your lips to your eyes, then, finding a sly playfulness in both, only hummed. Stopped wiping long enough to kiss you on the cheek.

“We’ll see—”

“I’ll be real good—”

“Oh, I bet you won’t.”

But by the end of it, Joel was grinning too. He didn’t protest when your lips returned the favor from his, and they left an equally sweet and clean kiss on his cheek.

He didn’t bat an eye when your hand slid up his leg either. He just squeezed yours back and helped you up.

“Gonna get me murdered, I’m tellin’ you,” he murmured in your ear as you stood, just like he’d said to you earlier.

You figured if he’d had his pick of ways to risk his life, sneaking into your room tonight wouldn’t be the worst possible option. You threw your trash away and started off for the entertainment pavilion, following the music.

It was almost like you could feel Joel contemplating whether to sling his arm over your shoulder while you walked. Not once, but twice did his fingers twitch beside him, and he looked around you both from side to side. He decided against it, at length, and contented himself instead to just nudge your elbow and tell you that he liked that dress a lot—he hoped you would wear it again.

Come up for a football game, and you might see it then, you’d urged him back. The red of your dress wasn’t quite the perfect match for your school’s hundred-year-old crimson and black color scheme, but that was alright. You’d bend the rules for him. The two of you were just approaching the outskirts of a big, noisy crowd when Joel was about to respond. Your eyes glazed over a sea of people, surprised by its size, when you cut back in:

“We’re never gonna find him in here.”

Joel assessed the crowd. Checked his phone. Heard the wail of a guitar from somewhere up at the front and instantly surmised this was a Lynyrd Skynyrd cover band—and that your dad wouldn’t leave until he’d heard every song. Silently, he kicked himself for suggesting coming to look at all. He could’ve taken you on a few more rides, filled your overstuffed belly with a little more cotton candy, popcorn, or ice cream, if you’d been up for it, but instead, you were obliged to find your old man. It wouldn’t have been awful if it wasn’t so hot and—

“Hey,” Joel broke in, before he could think.

His eyes had landed on a person—a pair—in the crowd that you hadn’t seen, and his heart clenched in his chest.

You’d barely tilted your head to him, “Yeah?”

“We should go,” he told you. He hadn’t meant for his voice to come out so rushed, or strained, but it was.

He couldn’t help it, especially when your gaze had shifted fully to him. Your eyes searched his, curious.

“Why?”

“‘Cause I…” Joel trailed off, looking around. Scrambling to procure an excuse of some kind, “I gotta…go piss.”

“Then piss. I’ll wait here,” you replied.

You didn’t get it. Really, there was no way you could. You hadn’t yet seen the short-sleeve, turquoise-colored PFG shirt at the back of the crowd, the beaming face Joel spotted above it. You hadn’t caught so much as a glimpse of the man’s profile, much less the full, wide smile on his face, the beer in his hand, or the woman by his side. She was either laughing, or singing, or nudging his hip. They looked happy. And yet, you shouldn’t see it.

Joel would kiss you—that was it. It would be the riskiest thing he’d done, but at least it’d save you from seeing.

So he tried. Joel leaned in and ventured to press his lips to yours, gripping your face, but the second he did, you pushed him away. Your eyes were wide. Cheeks heating.

“What the hell, Joel?” you hissed, “Dad could be—”

Your gaze darted to the side, and then you stopped.

The eyes grew wider. Your lips stayed the course, as if to keep going, but no sound came out, and all that was left of your mouth was a round, stunned ‘o.’ You blinked, like you couldn’t believe it: the two people were kissing now.

Joel reached for your arm, but you were far too fast. You shot off to get away, toward them, and didn’t stop until you’d made it to the edge of the crowd where they stood. The music was loud, the audience was rowdy, but still, even at a distance, Joel could hear you as clear as day:

“Dad?!”

The man and the woman split as quickly as they could.

You were standing there, watching them watch you in utter shock for a second or two. Joel wasn’t counting, but he did find himself next to you before he could blink. He was reaching for your arm again, then stopping. Looking to his friend, whose gaze was plastered on his daughter with all the markings of awe. Embarrassment.

“Honey—” he started.

“What the fuck is this?”

Bad question. Terrible timing. Joel knew what it was—clearly his friend knew it too, but you weren’t supposed to find this out yourself for at least another month or two. That was what he’d told Joel back then, anyway.

“Sweetheart, this is my—this is Helen.”

You looked like you wanted to be sick.

“I know who she is!” you spat. You waved an angry, inarticulate hand in Helen’s direction. Helen looked away.

“Why don’t we go someplace quieter?” That was Joel, cutting in over the thumping bass and the strain in the air like he might’ve been a father to you himself. Wanting to shield you from what was coming next if he could help it.

Once more he reached for you, and still inflamed, you shoved him off. Your eyes were too hurt to turn away.

“What? This is y—your—” you started back, stammering.

“We were going to tell you, honey, I swear.”

In all the years he’d known him, Joel had never seen his friend look so contrite—or fucking moronic. The man had ditched his beer, was wringing his hands trying to pace a little more carefully your way while he spoke, but you weren’t having it. Or anything, really. When Joel brushed his touch against your elbow the slightest bit, about to murmur words low in your ear, like, ‘We’ll talk. C’mon,’ you’d jerked your arm away from him entirely.

He didn’t need to see your face to hear the pain in:

“Fucking stop, Joel!”

That caught your father off-guard. He didn’t hesitate before he cut back in, looking more pointedly at you.

“Hey. You don’t talk to your Uncle Joel that way,” he said, sharp. Joel winced. He went on, “I’m the one who told him not to say anything, okay? Now just calm down—”

And whatever effect his friend had intended to produce created just the opposite in you. Instead of focusing on your dad, your eyes shot to Joel, and in an instant, your body was turning. Your face was half-hatred as you did.

“You knew?!”

“Honey, I told him—” your dad tried saying.

But your look was too enraged. Your jaw was too tight. Your mouth could barely form the words you wanted to say, and your eyes were like two bloodied daggers. Joel was amazed you could speak a syllable at all, but when he heard it, he got a sense for why that was. He had to.

“You knew?”

You were hurt.

When you left, he followed. He wasn’t sure what he’d bothered saying to your father as he did, but it sounded like an excuse—‘It’s fine. I’ve got her.’ He didn’t, though. You were gone quicker than he could turn around, and by the time he’d made it far enough away from the crowd to yell your name, you were too removed to hear it. He saw the top of your head through a whole new cluster of strangers, and he yelled it again. You kept walking.

Joel was fast, but you were adept, all things considered. You slipped through the crowd with ease and gained more and more distance than he could attain in twice the time. Joel bit the inside of his cheek and kept going. He didn’t reach you until you were approaching the front gates, when he called out for you again, out of breath.

You probably wouldn’t have turned if you’d had a choice. But as it was, you were up against a bottleneck effect of more people trying to leave than the exit could fairly handle at once, and everyone at the back was at a standstill. Your jaw tightened when he said your name.

“Darlin’— hey— baby, just let me—” Joel had weaved his way around your neighbors, but the area was cramped.

You didn’t move. Your gaze was trained elsewhere.

“—explain. Let me explain, and I promise, I didn’t—”

The line shifted forward, and you moved with it. Your body was turned; while you kept walking, shuffling, Joel earned a few uneasy looks from the people around him.

“I didn’t mean—” he forged on.

But as soon as he reached for you, he knew he’d overstepped. Confirming every onlooker’s suspicion that you didn’t want to be disturbed, you snatched your arm away, and your eyes flared with anger. You faced him.

“Fuck you.”

Before he could reply:

“Leave me the hell alone, Joel.”

And, while the words were still fresh on your tongue and no one else tried stepping in themselves, you walked off.

You left him again—for what other place, Joel wasn’t sure. You just made off the other way, breezing past carts and stands and now-shuttered booths and more faces than either one of you could count. You kept walking until you found an open space a tolerable distance away from all the noise, then went further.

Your face was fixed in a hard, immutable stare when Joel approached you again. The look behind your eyes was worse; he could tell in a second you were about to cry.

“Darlin’—”

“You knew this whole time,” you said. Seething.

“I didn’t—”

“My dad’s been dating the woman he cheated on my mom with and you didn’t think to fucking tell me?!”

“I thought—”

“Not ONCE?! Huh?” you screamed it this time, “Known you my whole goddamn life and you hide that from me?”

Joel winced. He knew the tears were coming before they even filled your eyes, but the sight still made him hurt. You wouldn’t let him near you, either. You just shook your head and swallowed a lump and blinked hard, and he felt stupid. Whatever favor he’d thought he was doing your father—and you—seemed infinitely small to him now.

That knot you’d tried pushing down in your throat kept you silent for a minute. Joel opened his mouth to insert a word or two himself, but then you looked keen to keep hold of the conversation, no matter how much it hurt, and you were starting again. Blinking harder. Hating it.

“She’s the reason mama left,” you said, hoarse, “Helen was her best friend, and then she went and— and— and— fucked my dad, and because of that, I didn’t have a family for half my fucking adolescence. You knew that.”

Another beat. Joel’s own throat constricted considerably as he considered his next words, but there was no need.

“You saw how much I hated my father, and her, and myself for years, thinking there was something just…wrong with me not being enough to make her stay. And you knew all that, and you still kept it a secret from m—”

“I know, baby. I shouldn’t have kept it from you, I know.”

He’d also known your dad was in the wrong. That hadn’t stopped Joel from trying to rationalize his friend’s actions while they happened: it was a one-time hookup with Helen, then a casual, no-strings deal that the man only indulged when he was feeling extra lonely, then a thing, a relationship of two, three, six months now. Joel had known all along what kind of profound ramifications these decisions would have if you were to ever find out. But his friend wasn’t so easily swayed from old habits, and Joel couldn’t stomach having to break it to you.

Then the roadtrip from Boston happened.

You seemed to be remembering the same.

“Was fucking me a way to make yourself feel better?”

Your words had never struck Joel with more deliberateness or force. He croaked ‘No’ in a moment. You took a step back, and there came the look again—more spiteful than before and repulsed to its core.

“Is that why you offered me a ride back in the first place? Just felt guilty for all the stuff you knew my dad was—”

“No. No, no, honey, I would never, ever—”

“Then why hide it?! Why all this? Why bother?”

You gestured between his body and yours; you didn’t seem to know what you meant. Your cheeks were wet with tears. You had to scrape your palms down your face, sniffling and struggling to clear your own vision, but the efforts appeared to be in vain. You couldn’t stop crying.

“For you,” Joel said, and he hated the way his own voice was splintered. He didn’t know how to make it better, “You were off at school when it started, then— then Boston. Just thought it’d be safer…for you…for us—”

Somewhere in his brain, he’d meant to say that he didn’t want the news of your father to hurt you, or else jeopardize a shred of something Joel had had with you.

It was stupid. Your instantaneous reaction said as much.

“Us?!”

Joel blinked. The eyes across from his were alight.

“Us, Joel?! Are you fucking kidding me? There is no us.”

Their brilliance wasn’t appreciative by any means. If anything, the words made the flow of your tears even worse. You pressed your hands to your face, rubbing your cheeks and trying to shield your eyes, and saying again, ‘There is no ‘us,’ Joel, that’s not an excuse—you knew!’

With his insides in knots, Joel wanted to hold you again. You were still in pain, and your scowl wouldn’t move, and when he tried to touch you, you stepped back in disgust.

He knew better than to think he could reach you now.

“Whole thing was a mistake,” you spat, unfeeling.

“Baby—”

“You and me. Dad and Helen.”

“You don’t mean—”

“Anything you need to keep a secret probably isn’t worth keeping at all, right?” And when you said it, he could tell you’d meant it to hurt him. As if the tears and the time and the sheer resignation in your eyes didn’t say enough.

Now Joel felt an ache in his bones, worse than it’d ever been, and he still couldn’t touch you. Where the heart demanded comfort of a kind you couldn’t give, the head knew better than to ask, and his hands fell limply at his sides. He saw you cry and had only himself to blame.

You turned back to the fairgrounds’ exit. The crowd was as big as it had ever been, but anywhere away from him seemed to be as welcome as anything else, Joel guessed

He’d try something stupid. Again. Even more desperate.

Never in his life had he said the words to someone else, and he sensed it wouldn’t do a thing to change your mind right now, but he’d say it anyway. If not to extricate himself, to let you know what he felt beyond every thing that had taken place tonight. He reached for you again.

“Darlin’, I lov—”

But before the words could register with you, the simple act of pressing his fingers to yours made you blanch. You hadn’t heard him at all, and seemed only concerned with jerking yours away as fast as you could, then shrieking:

“I HATE YOU, JOEL!”

Then you choked back a sob, trained your glossy gaze on him in one last pitiless look, and left him. He didn’t move. He didn’t try to. Sights and sounds and the ground underneath him seemed apt to swallow him whole, and still, he couldn’t move an inch. Somewhere ahead of him—too serendipitous, really—he heard you call a name.

Of course, it wasn’t his. You weren’t running to him.

It wasn’t Joel in the crowd making its way out the gates. It wasn’t him standing a little ways off to the side, eyes wide and confused as he watched you rush over. Almost stumble over yourself falling into his arms and hugging him, burying your face in his chest. Joel watched it all with a raw and hollow heart and wished it were him.

But it was Wade.

Wade hugged you back and held you close, and the look on his face was too bewildered and distraught for Joel to blame him. He hadn’t been the one to hurt you. Joel had.

He watched you leave.

There was nothing more to say.

[httpsserene]

Jealous sex with Charles 🤩

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐜𝐥. 𝟏𝟔

summary: there’s no reason for charles to be jealous of men who are stupid enough to think they have a chance with you. content warning: 18+ only. mdni. explicit sexual content. jealous sex. tennis. monte carlo masters winner stefanos tsitsipas used as a plot device. porn with a side of plot. mildly possesive!charles leclerc. jealousy. reader’s kindness is misunderstood for flirting. no infidelity. vaginal sex. unprotected sex(don’t do that!). fingering. missionary & cowgirl. rough(ish?) sex. the clothes stay on. uhm, reader gets railed stupid, lowkey. cumplay (i’m so sorry). pairing: charles leclerc x fem!bpoc!reader word count: 2.8k words.

from serene: surprised i finished this when i said i would. to make a long story short, i’m breaking up with my boyfriend 🤪✌🏽ANYWAYS, i listened to the beauty behind the madness and my dear melancholy albums by the weekend to lock in the smexxy vibes. idk if it worked, it took me two days to write less than 3k words 🙂 y’all lmk if you think the wait was worth it, and enjoy reading lovelies x

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The car ride home was quiet. You figured it was post-tennis exhaustion keeping your boyfriend quiet; the entire match was viewed with the Monte Carlo sun radiating down on the stands. Secondarily, the silence could’ve been induced by a little social exhaustion even though Charles thrives in crowds—the two of you spent a couple of hours before the match chatting to anyone who approached him, which felt like every person at the event had to have his attention for a brief moment. Then after the match, the two of you spent another hour speaking with the Master’s Winner, Stefanos, and the Prince, before you were able to take your exit.

So, you attributed his low energy to being sun-tired and talked-out. In retrospect, you should’ve known that it was more than fatigue from how Charles failed to put his hand on your thigh as he drove, and how he sat through slow-crawling traffic without ever moving to turn on music or talk. Your weariness prevented you from prodding further when the Monegasque responded with a nearly inaudible hum when asked if he was tired—the lack of presence in his answer felt like confirmation.

Yet, you realize it wasn’t an answer at all when you entered your home.

Your comments and questions about the match and dinner plans were met with one-word answers and off-timed hums of indifference in response. It’s not until the two of you are in your bedroom getting unready that Charles speaks more than a single word.

“Stefanos was nice, wasn’t he?” 

You pause in your action of taking off an earring, a puzzled tilt to your brow at the odd tone his words took, eyes examining him in the reflection of your vanity’s mirror. He stares down at his forearm as he unclasps his watch, his expression unreadable from his side profile. 

“Yes…he was,” you answer slowly, your confusion growing as you see Charles’ jaw clench, “I didn’t imagine him to be so, normal, I guess? After winning the Monte Carlo Masters, of all things. And, he’s done it three times! I mean, that’s incredible, no? For him to be so friendly and relaxed after was nice, I think.”

You rambled endlessly, the feeling that you’ve talked yourself into a corner flaring at the base of your skull. Charles turned to face you fully, shrugging his suit jacket off and calmly placing it on top of the dresser, rolling up the sleeves of his white dress shirt before he leaned to rest against the furniture as well.

“Ah,” the hair on the nape of your neck rises at the sound, you continue to remove your necklaces with hesitant fingers, “Did he charm you into being your favorite tennis player today, mon amour?”

A humorous scoff escapes your lips, “You know I’m not a fan of tennis. But, if there happens to be a match playing within my view, and he’s playing, I suppose I would want him to win. I wouldn’t say I was ‘charmed,’ I just think he’s a nice man.”

“I think you were too nice to him.”

You slowly place your diamond-studded, golden tennis chain away before your eyes flicker back to meet Charles’ in the reflection of the mirror. You raise a brow, unsure how to respond to his statement. Intelligently, you’ve deduced that he’s jealous, which is odd—considering he’s Charles Leclerc, the prettiest, sweetest, and kindest man on the face of the Earth, in your humble opinion. Stefanos doesn’t hold a candle compared to your boyfriend. Your fingers struggle to undo the clasp of your final necklace; the gold, diamond-paved, Cartier necklace with Charles’ name carved on the back—it was expensive enough that he refused to tell you the price when he gifted it, only saying that “the cost was nothing compared to the love he has for you,” the smooth-talker.

“Arrête,” he speaks firmly, pushing off the dresser and making his way towards you, his dress shoes clicking on the floor sending your heartbeat racing. He stops mere centimeters behind you, the heat of his body radiating against your back.

“Leave it on,” he murmurs, darkened eyes running over your form in the mirror indulgently. 

You do as he says, arms shakily lowering to rest at your sides, fingers tugging at the hem of your sundress as your heart skips and body flushes with heat. The Monegasque reaches around you to center the necklace on your clavicle, the sensation of his fingertips barely ghosting across your brown skin has your mouth parting with an inaudible gasp.

“If only he knew that you wear my name locked around your neck,” the brunette pondered aloud, “Maybe then he would remember that your pretty eyes, sweet giggles, and flirty words are for me—since you seemed to forget.”

“I was not f-flirting with him!” You stutter over the word as if it were an insult.

“You were not,” Charles sounds like he agrees, “But, you know very well that people mistake your kindness as more than that. It’s happened before, no?”

It has happened before. More than you can count. The number of men who mistake politeness and your overall niceness for interest is frightening; you don’t want anybody but Charles.

“What was I supposed to say to Stefanos? Nothing? Should I have just ignored him? And stood at your side quietly like I was just there for decoration?” Your tone peaks with annoyance, heated at the idea of being reduced to an accessory.

“No,” his voice cuts through your train of thought, “You should’ve agreed with me when I mentioned we needed to leave after he said ‘the only thing he’s missing to celebrate is a beautiful woman’ as he stared directly at you—instead of forcing me to stay for another twenty minutes to talk.”

Your mouth drops open disbelievingly, a scoff following a few moments later when you slowly realize that Stefanos wasn’t interested in being set up with one of your friends as he asked. You should’ve known when he asked if you had a twin sister he could meet.

“Okay, in hindsight, I can see that he was flirting,” you clarify, “But, I definitely was not. You know in that entire conversation, I was just being polite—and I made you stay for longer because the Prince wanted to talk to you. Not because I was entertaining a man who doesn’t respect my relationship with you!”

“You were being polite when he kissed your hand?”

“Yes! I thought that was just him laying it on thick?”

“He’s not royalty,” Charles snorts, “The only person allowed to put their lips on you is me.”

“You keep talking about who’s ‘allowed’ to do anything to me and you’ll very quickly find out that I’m ‘allowed’ to reconsider this relationship if you continue speaking about me as if you own me.”

“I don’t own you,” Charles pauses, and a smile spreads across his lips, dimples deepening in his cheeks, nearly forcing you to forget your previous statement as you admire them in the vanity mirror, “But—you own me.”

You turn around quickly at the words, breath stuttering at the lack of space between you two. Tilting your head upwards, you examine your boyfriend’s face with narrowed eyes and cheeks burning so hot the red flush is apparent. His smile has softened to a smirk, his eyebrows laced with a smug undertone, his pupils blown wide enough for you to have to focus to see the green ring around them. You languidly raise a hand to trace a finger across the edge of his jawline, then cupping your hand along the side of his face, gently resting your thumb in the indent of his dimple. Your chest tightens when Charles leans into your palm, slowly shifting to press a kiss on your wrist before nudging you back to holding his face.

Sighing gently, you shake your head, “What do you want from me?”

“Je veux que tu me laisses baiser ma jalousie sur toi, s'il te plaît.”

“S-say it slower please,” you request meekly, “I think I heard you wrong.”

“I want you to let me fuck my jealousy out,” Charles emphasizes each word slowly, his tone becoming teasing as he sees you fluster with each added syllable, “Ple–”

Your lips meet his desperately, your other hand flying upwards to grasp at his shoulder when you feel his laughter through the kiss. You’re sure his amusement is multiplied as you try to dominate the kiss, even as you rise on the tips of your toes and arch your body towards his. Needily, you whine into his mouth as he refuses to meet your rushed rhythm, digging your nails into the meat of his broad shoulders to convey your urgency.

The Monegasques’ hold on your waist turns rough and you pull backward with a gasp when he pinches the skin of your arm. You glower at him in displeasure but it’s quick to fade as he guides you back to his lips with a heavy hand on the nape of your neck. His thumb and pointer finger are weighted from their position at the base of your skull, directing the tilt and movement of your head as he licks into your mouth and bruises your swollen lips further with pressure and stings of teeth.

He walks himself backward, one hand firm on your hip to guide you with him, the other rucking up the skirt of your sundress and sliding underneath to tug your panties down your legs with ease. You kick the fabric off your ankles distractedly, falling to straddle Charles’ lap as soon as he sits on the edge of the bed. His hand slips between the cradle of your thighs, cupping along your warmth and toying within your folds.

“Wet for me already,” he discovers delightedly, breaking the kiss to suck a mark into the sensitive skin behind your left ear and peppering more nips and teases of teeth down the stretch of your neck. Hisses of pleasure slip from your parted lips and you slant your hips forward to guide Charles’ fingers inside. You exhale breathily at the slide of a single finger in your cunt, rolling down onto his hand when you deem his pace too slow.

“Another, please,” you beg, moaning throatily when your boyfriend fulfills your plea without hesitation.

Two fingers turn into three, and three fingers turn into Charles flipping you over and pushing you into the bed so he can hover over you. With rushed hands, you both shove the zipper of his slacks and the hem of his briefs low for him to slip his cock out and press into you. The brunette shudders as he sinks within your depths, falling to his elbows, your moans and gasps of breath spilling into the same pocket of air when his hips rest against the back of your thighs. 

“M-move, please, Cha,” you cry, knees pressing into his sides and body rolling upwards to get a glimpse of friction during his stillness.

Charles drops his head to quiet you with a chaste kiss before matching the rhythm of your rocking hips, his rumbling groans quieted by your lips. He holds himself steady on one arm while he uses the other to reach above your head and drag a pillow downwards, tapping your ass briefly to wordlessly command you into rising upwards as he slips the cushion underneath you. As soon as the pillow is properly positioned, Charles’ slow grinds are exchanged for slamming thrusts, sharp flares of pain-dipped pleasure shooting up your spine and tightening the knot in your navel. Your breath is lost quickly and you struggle to recover, eyes screwing shut and exhales of expletives and whimpers of encouragement are all you can offer.

The Monegasque roughly slides his hand down your leg and grasps you by the ankle digging into the small of his back to keep him close, moving it to rest over his shoulder, and letting his hand fall to squeeze at your thigh for purchase as the change of position tightens the fluttering channel of your cunt around him. This angle feels like he’s digging deeper inside you; one of your hands scrambling to drag your nails down his toned back while the other fists in his hair as you shriek high-pitched into the heated air between your bodies.

“All mine,” you can feel the possessive lilt to his tone rumble through the thin skin of your throat as he sucks along the rapid beat of your pulse. Your nails decorate his back with red scores and it has Charles biting out sharp putain’s and rabbiting his cock into you forcefully, yet remaining conscious enough to realign his thrusts as he bullies his way inside of you to pound against your g-spot. His leaned forward position stretches the limits of your comfortable flexibility, but it allows his pelvis to barely scrape against your clit, sending a wave of overstimulating pleasure to your brain, your eyes rolling as the sensation knocks any form of rational thought from your brain.

He pauses to tug the front of your dress down, the hem tucked under the spill of your breasts. His fingers flick teasingly over a pebbled nipple while he folds himself lower to drag his tongue against the other and nip small marks around your areola. You fight against the assault on your chest; arching your back towards and away from him—chasing and running away from the pleasure simultaneously, yet you continue to grind onto his cock.

“Charles, f-fuck, lemme–uhuh—lemme ride ‘ou,” you whine out incoherently, pushing at his shoulder with a closed fist, hoping he’ll understand your slurred words as your tongue begins to feel heavy.

Your boyfriend pulls away from your breasts in question, panting roughly as he stares up at you to see a pure look of want in your dampened eyes,  lashes clumped together and brown skin flushing deeper when the eye contact is held unendingly. You know that Charles debated denying your request, or at least thought about making you beg for it, but he decides to kneel and drag you upwards into his lap without a fight. He allows you a brief respite to adjust your legs and anchor your arms over his shoulders, then tightens the hold of his hands on your waist, fingertips sure to leave indents as he assists your first upward motion, before solidly dragging you back down. 

The strength you regained in your legs from the short break disappears, knees weakening and body slumping into Charles’ chest, your head drooping to rest in the crook of his neck. 

Charles steadies your head and tilts you back gently, checking in, “Is this too much, mon amour? We can stop.”

“No,” you murmur, “You fucked the feeling out of my legs, Cha.”

He laughs warmly, situating his hands on your ass to direct your motions, the tone of his voice light as he coos, “‘s okay, mon coeur—I’ll do all the work.”

You brush your nose along his, moaning softly at the sweetened drag of his cock. Charles chases your bitten lips, groaning lowly as he deepens his thrusts, fingers dipping to circle your clit—always ensuring your release is prioritized. Your thighs begin to shake and his thrusts skip beats as he begins to near the precipice as well. Shuddering, you gasp into his mouth, attempting to alert him to your nearing orgasm but you’re unable to speak the words.

“It’s okay, mon amour,” your boyfriend soothes, “Cum for me—I’ve got you.”

“yesyesyes,” you babble mindlessly, Charles continuing to pound into you, not slowing the search for his release now that you’re orgasm is imminent. A few well-angled jabs of your g-spot and you’re gone; release frying your nerve endings and vision blurring as your boyfriend continues to ride your high to its very end. 

The Monegasque pulls out the moment your hips fight his hold, dropping his hand drenched with your pleasure from your clit to grab his cock, and with one stroke, he spills. Charles paints your navel and inner thighs white with whimpering moans, and lilted French. He milks himself into over-sensitivity, only stopping when the orgasmic relief shifts into pain. He kisses you on the cheek as he drags a finger through his cum pooled between your thighs. His hand rises to your mouth and he hums approvingly as your lips part and suckle his spend clean off.  

“Hm,” Charles sounds, staring down at the claim he’s spilled, his free hand rubbing his cum along your navel, “All mine.”

© httpsserene2024

[hottiesforhockey]

dicked down december ⎜q.hughes

🎄pairings: quinn hughes x afab!reader 🎄genre: christmas special ⎜smut ⎜ established relationship⎜ 🎄warnings: dry humping ⎜ fingering ⎜ oral (f! and m! receiving) ⎜ thigh riding ⎜ hair pulling ⎜ doggy style ⎜ blindfold ⎜ shower sex ⎜vibrator use ⎜public sex ⎜ edging ⎜mentions of injury⎜ p in v ⎜ quinn is all about pleasing his girl ⎜pwp ⎜ unprotected sex ⎜ 🎄synopsis: after a rather anti climatic no nut november (on your part) - quinn wants to make it up to you with the twelve gifts of christmas. 🎄word count: 13.4k 🎄authors note:  this is part 2 to no nut november and was highly requested! this took a lot longer then expected to write so I'm really sorry for the delay - i hope everyone enjoys and Merry Christmas!! also I will be posting a small graphic at the bottom of how I fit in the twelve gifts of christmas.

(heavily unedited)

1st of December

“Fuck, Quinn.” You curse, your back arching as his warm hands run up your spine. You let out a long whine as his fingers dig deeper. 

“Baby, it’s just a massage calm down a little.” He chuckles, his knees planted on either side of your hips as his thumbs work on the knots in your back. 

His voice is warm and teasing, but you can hear the smile in it, and it makes your heart thrum. You shift slightly beneath him, the ache in your back melting away as his thumbs continue their work.

“Does it feel that good, or are you just desperate?” Quinn murmurs, leaning down so close his breath ghosts over the shell of your ear.

You huff, trying to ignore the heat pooling low in your stomach. “I didn’t agree with the  whole no-touching thing, remember? That was your idea.”

He hums, his hands pausing for a moment before he leans back up, kneading the tight spot between your shoulders with more purpose. “I know, baby. And I also know you’re really bad at being patient.”

“Maybe because you keep doing stuff like this,” you shoot back, craning your neck to look at him. His grin is maddening, smug and knowing, his dark hair falling into his eyes. He looks way too good for your sanity right now.

“Well,” he starts, his tone casual, “I guess it’s a good thing we’re officially done with all that now.”

You blink, his words catching you off guard. “Wait—”

Quinn sits back on his heels, sliding his hands down to your waist before flipping you onto your back in one smooth motion. The shift knocks the breath out of your lungs, and you can’t help the small gasp that escapes you.

“Gift one, baby,” he says, his voice lower now, tinged with something darker. His hands stay at your waist, his thumbs brushing against your bare skin. “The first of twelve. Think of it as an apology for making you wait so long.”

Your heart skips a beat, your body buzzing with anticipation as he leans down, his lips hovering just above yours. “Twelve gifts, huh?” you manage to say, your voice trembling just a little.

He grins, his lips finally brushing against yours in the faintest whisper of a kiss. “Twelve gifts to make it up to you—and then some.”

You barely have time to respond before his lips press firmly against yours, the kiss slow and deliberate, like he’s savouring every second. His hands trail up from your waist, skimming your sides until they settle just beneath your ribs. His thumbs stroke the sensitive skin there, sending shivers racing through you.

"Quinn," you breathe against his lips, your fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer. He hums in response, deep and satisfied, as if hearing his name like that was exactly what he wanted.

The heat between you builds quickly, each touch, each kiss stoking the fire that had been simmering for far too long. He breaks away just enough to let his forehead rest against yours, his breath coming in soft pants that mirror your own.

“I’ve got big plans for you, you know,” he murmurs, his voice teasing but roughened with desire.

“Oh, yeah?” you reply, tilting your head to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “This your way of saying you’re gonna spend the next month making me regret not jumping you last month?”

“Every few days, like an advent calendar” He corrects, “Can’t have you quitting on me.” His laugh is low and warm, the sound sending a fresh wave of heat straight through you. “Baby, the only thing you’re gonna regret is not asking for thirteen.”

Before you can respond, his lips are on yours again, more insistent this time. His hands roam your body with purpose, his touch igniting every nerve. It’s not rushed, though. No, Quinn is taking his time, making sure every kiss, every brush of his fingers is deliberate, like he’s mapping every inch of you.

As his hands drift lower, his mouth leaves yours to trail kisses down your jaw, then to your neck, where he nips lightly at the sensitive skin just below your ear. You gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders as your body arches into him.

“God, I missed this,” he whispers against your skin, his voice thick with need.

“Then stop teasing me,” you shoot back, your own voice breathy and uneven.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and filled with mischief. “Oh, baby, we’re just getting started. Gift one, remember?”

The promise in his words sends a thrill through you, and as his lips find yours again, you realise you might not survive twelve days of this. But if this is how Quinn plans to make up for lost time, you’re more than willing to let him try.

+

+

3rd of December

“Quinn this really doesn’t seem appropriate.” You hiss, smacking at his hand riding higher up your thigh. You watch with a smile as Quinn’s parents flitter around you house, the two of them pointing out each of the small decorations around the room. 

"Appropriate?" Quinn whispers, his voice low and teasing as his fingers continue their slow, deliberate ascent.

"Baby, you were the one who insisted on sitting next to me. What did you expect?" You glare at him, trying to keep your expression neutral as his parents continue their animated conversation across the room.

 “I expected you to behave,” you mutter, swatting his hand again, though it doesn’t seem to deter him in the slightest. “I did not think public nudity was this high on your list.” 

“Oh, we’re saving that for gift twelve.” He leans in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I am behaving. You should be thanking me for my restraint right now.”

Your cheeks flush at his words, and you quickly glance toward his parents to ensure they haven’t noticed anything. His mom is holding up a snow globe, admiring it with a fond smile, while his dad adjusts one of the stockings hanging on the mantle. Blissfully unaware.

“Quinn,” you warn in a low voice, but it only makes his grin widen. The mischievous glint in his eye is unmistakable, and you know he’s enjoying this far too much.

“What? I’m just helping you get into the holiday spirit,” he replies innocently, though the way his fingers are now tracing slow circles on your thigh suggests otherwise. You reach under the table and grab his wrist, giving it a firm squeeze.

 “If you don’t stop, your parents are going to see. Do you really want them to catch you acting like this?”

He chuckles softly, leaning back in his chair like he’s completely unbothered. “Relax, baby. They’re too busy with their little Christmas tour to notice anything.”

You narrow your eyes at him but don’t have a chance to respond before his mom’s voice cuts through the room.

“This place looks so festive!” she exclaims, turning toward you with a warm smile. “You two really went all out with the decorations.”

Quinn flashes her his most charming smile, his hand finally retreating from your thigh to rest on the table. “All her doing, Mum. She’s got a knack for this kind of thing.”

You shoot him a look, trying to mask your relief. “It was a joint effort,” you say modestly, though your tone is a little tighter than usual. “Quinn helped me pick out the tree.”

His dad nods approvingly. “Well, it looks great. Reminds me of our first Christmas together, doesn’t it, hon?” He glances at Quinn’s mom, who immediately launches into a story about their early days of marriage.

As they reminisce, you feel Quinn’s hand slide back onto your thigh under the table, and you barely manage to suppress a groan. He gives your leg a gentle squeeze, his expression perfectly innocent as he listens to his parents. His fingers just grazing the edge of your underwear. 

“Quinn,” you whisper sharply, your tone laced with both exasperation and a hint of amusement.

He leans toward you again, his lips quirking up in a small, knowing smile. “Dad, didn’t you say you had that dinner with your old college friends to get to?” His dad perks up at the reminder, glancing to at his watch in surprise before looking over at his wife who nods in acknowledgement, collect her purse from the floor besides the table. 

“The house is looking lovely, thank you for helping my Quinn get his stuff in order.” Ellen says softly as she pulls you in for a hug, her hand patting your head gently as she pulls away with a warm smile. You give her a soft nod and a quiet ‘it’s nothing, really.’ Before walking the parents to the door, bidding them a quick farewell as Quinn closes the door from besides you, his hand pushing the hair off the back of your neck as he leans forwards and presses a soft kiss to your neck. 

“Do you actually have a list of what you’re doing?” You question as he loops his arms arounds your waist pulling you backwards towards the bedroom, his lips spreading into a smile against your skin. 

“No.” He admits, a sigh of relief escaping you as he adds, “It’s an excel spreadsheet.” 

You groan, half in exasperation, half in laughter, as Quinn tightens his hold around your waist, nudging you gently down the hall. His breath is warm against your neck, and the smug grin in his voice is unmistakable.

“An Excel spreadsheet, Quinn? Seriously?”

“What can I say? I like to stay organised.” His tone is casual, but the way his hands slide under the hem of your sweater is anything but. You swat at his wandering fingers again, though with far less conviction this time.

 “Organised is colour-coding the Christmas bins, not...whatever this is.”

“Baby,” he murmurs, steering you into the bedroom, “this is next-level holiday cheer. You should appreciate my dedication.” You roll your eyes but can’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips. 

“If I open that spreadsheet and see formulas, I’m leaving.”

“Too late now,” he teases, spinning you around and pressing you gently back onto the bed. “You’re already committed to the program.” Your retort dies on your lips as Quinn leans down, his hands bracketing your hips, his face inches from yours. The mischievous sparkle in his eyes has softened, replaced by something warmer, more intimate.

“Quinn,” you start, your voice quieter now, less teasing. “What are you up to?”

“Just making sure we keep the spirit of the season alive,” he replies, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His lips ghost over yours, not quite kissing, just close enough to make your breath hitch. “ gift three should be a proper celebration, don’t you think?”

“Does it involve a pivot table?” you manage to ask, your voice shaky with barely contained laughter. He grins, his mouth finally claiming yours in a kiss that wipes away any further attempts at sarcasm. “No spreadsheets tonight,” he whispers against your lips. “Promise.”

You sigh dramatically as he pulls you closer, his weight warm and comforting. “I guess I can make an exception. But if I find a ‘Day 12’ PowerPoint presentation, we’re having a serious talk.”

Quinn chuckles, his laughter vibrating through your chest as he trails kisses along your jaw. “Noted. Now stop stalling. We’ve got a new holiday tradition to uphold.” Quinn’s lips catch yours again, his hands moving up to brace against either side of your head, his body slotting between your legs as he presses his hips to yours. 

“You better make this worth my while.” You say quickly, his hips pushing against yours at an agonising pace, his lips making their way down your jaw till the find the pulse point on your neck, sucking harshly against the skin. 

“It’ll be worth it.” He agrees, his hips speeding up their movements against yours, your skirt riding up to sit against your waist - the zipper of his jeans pressing deliciously against your clit as he thrusts, “But today is not that day.” He groans as he puts away, a soft wet patch on the front of his jeans, your legs falling open against the bed as you let out a long sigh. 

“This fucking edging is going to kill me.” You hiss, watching as Quinn lets out a maniacal laugh. 

“That’s wasn’t on the list.” He says quickly. 

“Oh my god, you actually have a spreadsheet, don’t you?” You groan in disbelief. 

“You don’t even know the extent I’ve gone to.” He says quickly, “We’ve barely even gotten started.” 

+

+

6th of December

You’re elbow-deep in a mixing bowl, trying to salvage the dough that Quinn somehow managed to over-flour, when he appears behind you, his arms looping lazily around your waist.

“Smells good in here,” he murmurs, nuzzling into the curve of your neck. His voice is warm, and the gentle pressure of his lips against your skin sends a shiver down your spine.

“I’m starting to get a trauma response every time you sneak up behind me.” You scold, throwing a playful glare over your shoulder. Quinn just smiles before asking, “What’re you making?” 

“It’s cookies,” you reply, trying to sound unimpressed even as your pulse quickens. “Not exactly groundbreaking.”

“Yeah, but you’re the one making them,” he counters smoothly, his hands slipping beneath your apron to rest on your hips.

“Flattery will not save you,” you warn, squirming slightly as his fingers start to knead into your sides. “You’re still on dough-duty.”

“Hmm, dough-duty,” Quinn muses, his tone teasing as he presses himself a little closer, his body warm against yours. “Sounds like you’re just trying to keep me distracted.”

You roll your eyes, ignoring the way your heart is pounding as you flick a bit of flour over your shoulder in his direction. “Distracted? You’re the one whos turning my kitchen into a war zone.”

Quinn laughs, dodging the flour with ease. “Okay, fair. But you’re not exactly playing fair either, baby. You know this apron does things to me.”

You glance down at the plain, slightly flour-dusted apron and raise an eyebrow. “It’s literally the least sexy thing I own.”

“Speak for yourself,” he replies, his hands sliding lower until they rest dangerously close to the curve of your backside. “I’m a simple man with simple tastes.”

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, trying to focus on rolling the dough out onto the counter. But the moment his lips press a soft kiss just behind your ear, your hands falter.

“Quinn, I swear—”

“Swear what?” he interrupts, his voice dropping into that low, teasing tone that always makes your knees weak. “You gonna stop me?”

You inhale sharply, turning your head to glare at him. But the smug grin on his face only makes your resolve crumble. “Yes,” you say, though it comes out far less convincing than you’d hoped.

“Oh, yeah?” He leans in, his breath hot against your ear. “You sure about that?”

Before you can respond, his hands slide up your sides, his fingers grazing just beneath the edge of your sweater. You let out a soft gasp, the rolling pin slipping from your fingers and clattering onto the counter.

“Quinn,” you hiss, your tone a mix of exasperation and barely contained laughter. “I’m trying to bake here.”

“And I’m trying to make sure you stay properly motivated,” he counters, his grin widening as his hands trail back down, this time tugging lightly at the hem of your apron.

Your retort dies on your lips as he spins you around, pinning you gently against the counter. His hands plant themselves on either side of you, effectively trapping you in place as he leans in, his nose brushing against yours.

“Five days in,” he murmurs, his voice low and dripping with mischief. “Think you can handle seven more of this?”

Your breath catches, the air between you crackling with tension. “I’m starting to think I won’t survive.”

Quinn’s grin turns wicked, his lips ghosting over yours in the faintest of kisses. “Good,” he whispers, his hands sliding to your waist and pulling you flush against him. “Because I’ve got plans for you, baby. Big ones.”

Your heart races as he tilts his head, his mouth finally claiming yours in a kiss that’s slow and deliberate, leaving you breathless. Just as you’re about to lose yourself in the moment, he pulls back, his eyes sparkling with playful mischief.

“Now,” he says, stepping back and grabbing the rolling pin off the counter like he hadn’t just rendered you a breathless, flustered mess. “How about I actually help with these cookies?”

You gape at him, your body still buzzing from his touch as he starts flattening the dough with a look of pure innocence.

“You’re evil,” you mutter, crossing your arms as you try to collect yourself.

“And yet,” he says, flashing you a grin, “you keep letting me in the kitchen.” He continues to tease, spinning you back around to face the counter,  his hand dipping into the waist band of your pyjama pants, his fingers toying with the trim of your underwear before dipping beneath those too. 

“God, the surprising seems to be working.” He snorts, his fingers dipping between your folds, your knees almost buckling beneath you as his free hand splays against your stomach to hold your upright. “You’re soaking, baby.” You can hear the smile on his lips, his finger slipping up and down between your folds, the slick sound starting to feel the air. 

“Quinn, I swear to god if you don’t let me finish, I will turn you into a cookie.” You hiss, your hands stopping their motions to brace against the counter, your head falling forwards as he dips a tentative finger inside of you. 

“As long as you’re the one eating me up.” Quinn retorts, a second finger joining the first as he pumps in and out, your hands digging as far into the counter as they can, Quinn’s hand the only thing keeping you steady as his speeds up his movements, the wet sounds of his fingers filling the almost silent room. 

“Fuck, Quinn.” You hiss, your lips digging into your bottom lip as you throw your head back — “I’m so fucking close.” You feel his fingers start to slow as you clench around him. 

“You better keep fucking going.” You snarl, your hips thrusting forwards against his fingers, “I’m not kidding Quinn.” Quinn lets out another laugh before his fingers speed up again, your orgasm hitting you like a train after his last two attempts at teasing you. 

“I fucking hate you so much sometimes.” You pant, as you leans against the counter, watching as Quinn pulls his fingers from your pants, dipping them into his mouth. 

“Your cookie tastes great, baby.” 

+

+

9thth of December

The living room glows with the soft twinkle of Christmas lights, their reflection dancing in the windows against the dark December evening. You and Quinn are cocooned on the couch, sharing a thick blanket. Empty mugs of hot chocolate sit abandoned on the coffee table, remnants of marshmallows clinging to the rims. On the TV, Elf is mid-chaos, Buddy the Elf wreaking sugary havoc in a department store.

Quinn shifts closer, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders. “Why is it colder in here than outside?”

You shoot him a sidelong glance. “Because someone said turning on the heat ‘dulls the spirit of winter.’”

“I didn’t think I’d need a survival kit to get through it,” he mutters, his socked feet nudging against yours under the blanket.

“You’re the one who insists on authenticity,” you remind him, but you pull the blanket up higher, offering him a grudging sliver of extra warmth.

Quinn doesn’t stop there, though. His arm snakes around your shoulders, and before you can protest, he tugs you closer until your head rests against his chest.

“Really?” you ask, your voice dry as you tilt your head to look up at him.

“What? I’m freezing,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Besides, this is festive. Snuggling and all that.”

Your eyes narrow, but you don’t pull away. “Convenient excuse.”

“Maybe,” he admits, his grin widening. His other hand sneaks beneath the blanket, resting casually on your thigh, the warmth of his palm sinking through your leggings. The movie continues, but you’re barely paying attention now. Quinn’s thumb brushes idly against your leg, a small, repetitive motion that’s impossible to ignore. You shift slightly, but it only makes his grip more deliberate.

“Comfortable?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Very,” he replies, his voice dropping into something softer, more suggestive. “Why? Aren’t you?” You can feel the tension in the air shift. 

“Depends,” you say, keeping your tone neutral as you look back at the screen. “Are you planning to stay glued to my side all night?”

Quinn leans closer, his breath brushing against your ear. “Maybe. Is that a problem?” Your stomach twists, a mixture of annoyance and something harder to admit. You keep your eyes on the TV, but your body betrays you, leaning just slightly into his warmth.

“Only if you start stealing my share of the blanket,” you reply, injecting your voice with faux annoyance to mask the way your pulse has quickened.

Quinn chuckles softly, his lips grazing the edge of your temple in a way that feels far more deliberate than casual.

“Deal.”

For a moment, the only sound is Buddy the Elf shouting about Christmas spirit, but the tension between you lingers, humming beneath the surface.

When Quinn finally speaks, his tone is lighter, teasing, but the undercurrent is still there. “You know, I’d make a great elf. Probably even better than Buddy.”

You snort, grateful for the shift. “That’s bold. I’m not sure you’re up for the sugar diet.”

“I’d find a way to make it work,” he replies, his grin mischievous. “And I know I look good in tights.”

You roll your eyes, shoving at his shoulder lightly. “Delusional.”

“Maybe,” he concedes, his hand giving your thigh a playful squeeze before he withdraws it, much to your mixed relief and disappointment. “But you’d love it anyway.” Your laugh is softer now, the tension between the two of you growing as Quinn makes no moves to take anything further. 

“Quinn, what’s on your spreadsheet for gift three?” You ask curiously as you watch Buddy the Elf and his brother in a snowball fight. 

“Why?” Quinn questions back, a knowing smile growing on his face as he fingers continue their soft stroking against your legs, “You anticipating something?” You shoot him a quick glare before settling back against the couch your arms crossed tightly over your chest.

“Not anymore.” You mumble to yourself, Quinn raising his brow in surprise at your snark, smiling over at your one more time before he dips under the large blanket, sliding off the couch as to the floor in from of you. You shiver as Quinn’s breath ghosts over the damp patch on your panties, the contrast of his warm touch against the cool air setting your skin ablaze. The blanket overhead forms a cocoon, insulating the two of you from the rest of the world, but all you can focus on is the way his hands roam your thighs, spreading you open with a confidence that steals your breath.

“What are you doing?” you ask, though your voice comes out softer than intended, betraying the cocktail of anticipation and arousal coursing through you.

“Gift three,” Quinn replies, his voice muffled but laced with that familiar teasing edge. His fingers slide slowly up the curve of your legs, brushing over your hips as he pushes your nightgown higher, exposing more of your skin to his exploration. You try to maintain some semblance of composure, but the sensation of his touch is magnetic, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

When his fingers hook under the waistband of your panties, dragging them down inch by excruciating inch, you can’t stop the gasp that escapes you. The cool air hits your now-bared skin, a stark reminder of just how exposed you are. Quinn shifts, guiding your legs further apart as he kisses a slow path along the inside of your thigh, his lips soft and deliberate, each touch igniting sparks under your skin.

“Quinn,” you murmur, your voice a mix of exasperation and need. “You can’t just—”

“Can’t what?” he interrupts, his words brushing hot against your skin. “Show my girlfriend a little Christmas cheer?” There’s a hint of a smirk in his tone, but any retort you might have planned dies on your lips when his mouth finally meets you, his tongue making a slow, deliberate stroke that has your head tipping back against the couch.

Your fingers clutch at the blanket above him, seeking something to anchor you as he works. His tongue moves in practiced motions, alternating between firm, focused pressure and lighter, teasing flicks that leave you trembling. His hands remain on your thighs, holding you open with a firm yet gentle grip, grounding you as he explores every inch of you with a devotion that has your chest heaving.

“Oh my God,” you breathe, your hips lifting instinctively to meet his mouth. Quinn hums against you in response, the vibration sending shockwaves through your body. He takes his time, savouring every reaction he pulls from you, his movements both methodical and maddeningly sensual.

“Gift three,” he murmurs between strokes, his breath warm against your most sensitive skin, “is definitely shaping up to be my favourite.

You can’t hold back the soft moan that slips free, your fingers diving under the blanket to thread into his hair, urging him closer. He responds with a chuckle, the sound low and confident, before redoubling his efforts. His tongue moves in perfect rhythm, circling and stroking in ways that leave you teetering on the edge, every nerve in your body strung tight. “Keep watching the movie, baby.” He coos.

Your breathing grows ragged as the tension in your core builds, your legs trembling against his shoulders. “Quinn,” you gasp, his name a plea as the pleasure becomes too much to bear. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even falter, his mouth working you through every moment until the world splinters apart. You cry out, your body arching as waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you shuddering and breathless. Quinn stays with you, his hands stroking your thighs in a soothing rhythm as he presses a final, reverent kiss against your skin.

When he finally emerges from beneath the blanket, his hair is deliciously tousled, his lips glistening with evidence of his handiwork. That signature smirk is firmly in place as he climbs back onto the couch beside you, pulling you into his arms as if nothing unusual had happened.

“You’re ridiculous,” you murmur, your voice soft and shaky as you bury your face against his chest, the warmth of his body grounding you.

“And yet,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple, “you’re the one who puts up with  me.” You huff out a breathless laugh, your cheeks still burning as the festive chaos of Elf continues to play in the background, the two of you breathing a little harder as you turn towards him. 

“So is that it? You just eat me out and then we pretend like nothing happened?” You question, your brows furrowing as you lift your hand to swipe the moisture of your boyfriend’s mouth. 

“Yep.” He just smiles, leaning forwards to take your wet fingers into his mouth, sucking them off with a pop before leaning forwards to press a kiss against your cheek. “Don’t worry too much, gift four is going to be for both of us.” 

+

+

12th of December

The morning arrives with a soft dusting of snow blanketing the world outside, the frost glinting like powdered sugar on the windowpanes. Inside, the warmth of the living room is a stark contrast to the chill, the faint smell of pine from the Christmas tree mingling with the remnants of coffee and toasted bagels. Quinn stands at the kitchen counter, his hair still a little messy from sleep, as he fiddles with his phone.

"You’re on that thing again?" you tease from your spot on the couch, bundled up in an oversized sweater and fuzzy socks. "Plotting world domination or just reorganising your already over-planned spreadsheet?"

Quinn glances up, grinning that lopsided grin that always gets to you. "Neither. Just checking off ‘make girlfriend coffee’ from Day Nine’s list." He sets the phone down and gestures toward the steaming mug on the side table next to you. “I have to do some readjusting to make up for the road trips coming up.” He explains with a smile. 

You roll your eyes, though your lips twitch upward. "Convenient. What's next? Snow angels in the yard?"

"Not quite," he says, crossing the room with a deliberate saunter that makes your heart stutter. “Gift four is a bit more… hands-on."

You arch a brow, setting your mug down as he stops in front of you, his grin widening. "Hands-on how?"

Quinn doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reaches out, his fingers threading through your hair in a way that feels casual yet charged with unspoken intent. He gives a gentle tug, tilting your face up toward his, and your breath catches.

"Something like this," he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave as his thumb brushes against your jawline.

Your pulse quickens as the air between you grows thick with tension. "You’ve been watching too many rom-coms," you quip, though your voice wavers slightly.

"Maybe," he admits, his grin softening but his hold on your hair remaining firm. "But I don’t think Hugh Grant ever did this."

Before you can retort, Quinn leans down, his lips hovering just above yours. The moment stretches, electric and teasing, until he finally closes the distance. His kiss is slow but insistent, the kind that leaves you breathless and clutching at his shirt to stay anchored.

When he pulls back, he tugs on your hair just enough to make your head tilt back further, exposing the curve of your neck. “Gift four,” he says softly, his lips brushing against your skin, "is going to be hard and fast.”

Your laugh is shaky, a mix of nervousness and anticipation. "Is that your way of saying I should be worried?"

Quinn chuckles, his breath warm against your collarbone. "Not worried. Excited."

Quinn’s lips curl into a teasing smile as he pulls back, his fingers still gently wrapped around a strand of your hair. You feel a spark of both irritation and excitement at the way he’s controlling the moment, making it feel like time is stretching just for the two of you. His grin never falters as he studies your face, waiting for your reaction.

"Excited, huh?" he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "I guess you’ll find out soon enough."

You swallow, feeling the heat crawl up your neck. There's something about the way he's looking at you—like he's already imagining every moment ahead.

"You’re insufferable," you retort, trying to sound more confident than you feel. "You can’t just drag me into this with vague promises."

Quinn chuckles softly, but there’s an edge to it. He’s enjoying the control, the way you’re practically trembling under his gaze.

"Oh, I think I can," he replies smoothly. "Because when it’s number four, the rules are a little different." He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he stands up, extending a hand toward you with a look that is half challenge, half invitation.

"Come on," he says, his voice dropping just a little. "Let’s take this somewhere a little more... private." Your heart skips a beat, the mix of nerves and curiosity making your pulse race. You hesitate for a moment, but then the sight of his unrelenting grin has you pushing off the couch, your hand slipping into his. He leads you through the kitchen, his fingers intertwined with yours, the tension palpable with each step. The rest of the world seems to fade, leaving only the soft sounds of your breathing and the weight of Quinn’s touch. As you reach the bedroom door, he pauses. His thumb brushes over the back of your hand, sending a shiver up your spine. He looks at you, his eyes searching yours for a moment, as if checking that you’re ready.

"Are you sure you want to keep going?" he asks softly, but there’s no mistaking the way his words hold an edge of amusement.mYou swallow, fighting the urge to back down. There’s something magnetic about him right now, something about the way he’s drawing you in with such ease, making you feel like you’re walking toward something inevitable.

"Just get in here already," you snap, the teasing now on your lips. Quinn’s smile deepens, and with one smooth motion, he pulls the door open, guiding you inside. The quiet of the room feels charged, as though the moment itself is holding its breath, waiting for what comes next. The door clicks shut behind you, the sound echoing in the stillness of the room. You turn, but before you can say anything else, Quinn is right there—close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him. His hands find your waist, pulling you toward him with a force that makes your breath catch.

You look up at him, your heart pounding as you meet his eyes—dark and intent, full of a desire that makes the air between you feel thick and heavy.

“You wanted to know what your gift is all about,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, barely above a whisper. Before you can respond, he’s kissing you, his lips crashing against yours with a desperate hunger that takes you completely by surprise. There’s no teasing this time, no games. Just the raw, urgent need that’s been simmering between you both.

His hands roam, one settling at the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair as he pulls you even closer. You feel the firm press of his body against yours, the solid warmth of him that makes it impossible to think straight. Your back meets the wall with a soft thud, but Quinn doesn’t stop—his lips moving over yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless, your hands instinctively gripping at his shirt.

You tilt your head back, gasping for air as his mouth moves down to your neck, his kisses hot and urgent, like he can’t get enough. His free hand traces the curve of your body, his touch leaving trails of fire wherever it lands. It’s almost too much, but you don’t want it to stop.

“Quinn...” you breathe, the name slipping from your lips in a mix of desire and need. He groans softly at the sound of your voice, his teeth grazing your skin as he leaves another trail of kisses along your collarbone. His hand moves lower, finding the hem of your sweater, pushing it up slowly, deliberately, as if giving you time to pull away, but you don’t. You stay frozen, your heart racing as the tension between you grows thicker.

His lips find yours again in a desperate, needy kiss, as if he’s finally giving in to something he’s been holding back. There’s no softness now—only the heat of the moment, the weight of everything you’ve both been holding back crashing into the space between you. His body presses you harder into the wall, the raw intensity of the kiss leaving you breathless and craving more.

“You’re so damn distracting,” Quinn murmurs against your lips, his voice rough with barely restrained hunger.

“You started it,” you manage, a teasing note in your voice despite the pounding of your heart. He chuckles darkly, the sound vibrating through you, before his lips find yours again, hungry and fierce. There’s no space between you now, no thoughts beyond the electric pull between you.  

“I need you as wet as possible.” Quinn murmurs against your, his hips pressing against yours as you try to grind against him wanting any relief you can find. “I want to be able to slip in easily.” His words are hot against your skin as he reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a soft strip of black fabric. 

“I was going to save this for gift five but I think we can push it forwards a little.” Quinn says quietly as he steps away from you, your throat bobbing at the sight of the blindfold “Do you want it?” He asks an eyebrow raised as he watches you glance between him and the blindfold, you nod slowly Quinn breaking out in a broad smile. “Get on the bed then.” He says quickly, your oversized shirt swaying against your thighs as you shuffle over to the bed, perching on the edge. 

“Hands and knees, baby.” He corrects, your head just nodding as you climb further onto the bed, settling into the position. Quinn slips behind you, reaching over to pull the blindfold across your eyes. You let out a stuttered breath as your eyesight is taken from you, your fingers gripping the bedsheet beneath you. 

“Do you think you’re wet for me?” He asks softly, your head nodding as your words escape you. “How wet?” He questions. 

“Dripping.” You respond, your teeth clamping down on your bottom lip as you feel Quinn hands slide up your sides, dragging your t-shirt up and over your ass, exposing your definitely damp underwear to him, your back arching slightly as his warm palms dig into your sides. 

“I think you’re ready.” He agrees, his hands smoothing back over your ass before roughly ripping your underwear, ripping them down your legs till they sit at your knees, your bare ass and pussy exposed to him. “Perfect.” You hear him mumble as you hear further ruffling of fabric, and the sound of plastic being ripped open. “Tell me if you’re getting overwhelmed.” He whispers, one hand rubbing up and down your spine as you feel his cock poke against your entrance, sliding through your wetness a few times, a soft groan leaving you as he slides inside. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He groans, both of his hands digging into your hips as he pulls out and pumps back in, his movements slow and precise. “I’ve missed being inside of you.” He adds, your body shivering as his speed increases slightly. 

“Me too.” You hum, your teeth gritting as you feel one of Quinns hands leave you hips, the fingers just barely grazing up your back before the fiddle with the ends of your hair. 

“Am I not pleasing you enough, princess?” Quinn asks, his hand grabbing a chunk of your hair, wrenching your head back, as he leans over your body, his hips pausing in the movements, bottomed out inside of you. “Say it again.” He grumbles, littering soft kisses against your neck as he waits. 

Dominant Quinn was never something you were used to. Your boyfriend usually preferring to keep your intimate moments soft and gentle - apart from the occasional angry fuck. “I said I miss you being inside of me.” You repeat with a little more conviction, “It feels so good.” You add quickly, seeming to please Quinn as he pulls himself back into a standing position his hips slamming into you at a furious pace as he wraps your hair around his hand, keeping a tight hold as your arms collapse out from under you, soft whimpers leaving you as his free hand wraps around gently rubbing against your clit, your pussy clenching around him desperately as you ride out your high. 

Quinn comes soon after, his body falling on top of yours as he whispers soft praise in you ear, pressing kisses against your hair before pulling out and discarding the condom. “I’ll only be gone for a few days and then the twelves days of christmas will be back.” Quinn jokes, pulling your shirt back down over your hips as you roll to face him, a light smile on your face. 

“That’s not what I’m going to miss.” You coo, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before sliding off the mattress, retrieving your underwear from the floor, “But maybe one more round before you have to go?” You tease, Quinn wasting no time in leaping off the mattress. 

+

+

17th of December

“Yeah I’m on the way to the arena now to pick you up.” You say into your speaker - the phone currently connected to your car’s bluetooth - Quinn’s voice carrying through. 

“Okay they said the bus should be there in about thirty minutes.” Quinn says with a long sigh - the Canucks had lost their game earlier today and to say Quinn was disappointed was an understatement. “So, mr spreadsheet do we have anything on our agenda for tonight?” You say quickly, trying to switch the attention to something other then the loss they had earlier in the night. You clock said it was around 2am in the morning as tired as you were you knew Quinn would be ten times more exhausted. 

“I did have plans but the high stick might change somethings.” Quinn huffs, his words mumbled more than usual. 

“Quinn we don’t need your mouth to have fun.” You coo, as you can almost see the smile spreading across his face as he lets out a soft chuckle followed by a sharp hiss. “How bad is it?” You ask next, you had watched the game and has seen the blood splattering on the ice after Quinn’s high stick to the face - he had been messaging you from the locker room while they stitched him up, telling you not to worry but the furious expression on his face when he returned to the game was enough to tell you that it hurt. 

“I have to go, coach is about to give us a speech.” Quinn chuckles lowly into the phone, and you promise you’ll be waiting once the bus arrives at the arena. The two of you hang up, your car beginning to play your music again as you make the short drive to the arena, parking in the underground lot where the bus usually dropped them off after a road trip - scrolling through your phone as you wait for your boyfriends arrival. 

It wasn’t long before the bus pulled into the lot, its tires hissing against the pavement. You glanced up from your phone just as the doors opened and the team began filing out. A few players waved at you as they passed, murmuring tired goodnights. Then, finally, you spotted Quinn.

He moved slower than usual, his bag slung over one shoulder, his other hand tucked into the pocket of his jacket. His head was down, the brim of his hat shadowing his face. As he approached the car, you got out to meet him, your heart squeezing when you caught a glimpse of his swollen, stitched-up lip.

“Hey,” you said softly, trying to keep your tone light. “How’s my favourite spreadsheet nerd?” Quinn’s gaze flicked up to meet yours briefly before darting away. 

“Still in one piece,” he muttered, his voice quiet and a little raspy. You reached out to take his bag, and he hesitated before letting you, his fingers brushing yours for a moment. He stood there awkwardly, his shoulders hunched slightly, as though he were trying to make himself smaller.

“Quinn,” you said gently, stepping closer. He looked up at you fully then, and the vulnerability in his expression nearly broke you. “Let me see.”

“It’s fine,” he mumbled, tugging his hat lower.

“Quinn,” you repeated, a little firmer this time. You raised a hand to his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly against his skin. He stiffened at first but didn’t pull away. “Please?” He sighed, a quiet, resigned sound, and let you tilt his face toward the faint glow of the overhead lights. Your heart clenched at the sight of the angry red stitches running along his top lip.

“Oh, babe,” you murmured, your voice soft and full of concern. “Does it hurt?”

“It’s not that bad,” he said, but the way his eyes shifted told you otherwise.

“You don’t have to play tough with me,” you said, your thumb now tracing the line of his jaw. “You’re allowed to say it hurts.”

Quinn’s ears turned a little pink, and he ducked his head, clearly embarrassed. “It’s just...ugly,” he muttered. “You don’t need to look at it.”

Your heart melted at his words. “Quinn Hughes,” you said, stepping even closer, “you could be missing a tooth and have a black eye, and you’d still be the most handsome guy I’ve ever seen.”

A small, reluctant smile tugged at his good side of his mouth. “You’re just saying that.”

“I mean it,” you insisted, your hand moving to his hair, your fingers brushing softly through the strands. “But we can clean you up when we get home. Deal?” Quinn finally met your eyes again, and though he still looked a little self-conscious, there was a warmth there that made your chest feel light. “Deal,” he said quietly.

You smiled, leaning up to press a feather-light kiss to his temple, careful not to jostle him. “Come on, let’s get you home.” The drive home is almost silent, Quinn sitting in the passenger seat, his head pressed against the cool window, his hand gripping yours as the radio sings soft christmas carols, the snow falling outside the car. 

“So what was going to be your plan for gift eight?” You ask, your fingers squeezing against Quinns as you pull the car into your parking spot - the two of you releasing each other to slide out of the car and make your way to the elevator. 

“Nothing I could partake in tonight anyway.” Quinn sulks, his hand finding yours again. 

“You’re right, maybe you’re better off not participating in anything at the moment.” You laugh and Quinn huffs a quiet laugh, the sound a little muffled by his injury. “You’re right. Probably not my smartest move.”

The elevator dings, and you both step out, heading toward your apartment door. Once inside, the warmth of the space envelops you, chasing away the lingering chill from outside. Quinn sets his bag down by the door, his movements slow and deliberate, and you can see the exhaustion settling over him like a heavy blanket.

“Go have a shower, I’ll pack up your stuff.” You say quietly, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek before pushing him towards the bathroom. “I’ve got it.” You reassure him.

Quinn hesitated for a moment, glancing over his shoulder at you as he made his way toward the bathroom. "You sure you don’t mind?"

"Of course not," you replied with a soft smile. "Go on, I’ll be right here when you’re done."

As the sound of water began echoing through the apartment, you busied yourself tidying up the small messes Quinn had left in his usual spots—his sneakers haphazardly kicked off near the door, his coat draped over the back of the couch. You stacked his belongings neatly and set out a fresh pair of sweats and one of his soft hoodies on the bed. But as you finished, the quiet worry bubbling in your chest drew you toward the bathroom.

The steam wafting out from under the door carried the faint scent of Quinn’s body wash, and you knocked softly.

“Baby?”

"Yeah?" His voice was a little clearer now, though still tired.

"You doing okay in there?"

There was a pause before he answered. "Yeah, I’m good." But you knew him better than that.

Without waiting for an invitation, you pushed the door open a crack. The warmth of the bathroom enveloped you, the mirror fogged, and the sound of water pattering against the tile filled the air. Through the frosted glass, you could make out Quinn’s silhouette, his shoulders hunched as he stood under the spray.

"You sure?It’s been like half an hour?” you asked, stepping inside and closing the door softly behind you. The faint click of the latch drew his attention, and he turned his head slightly, just enough to see you through the glass.

"You don’t have to—"

"I want to," you interrupted gently, already peeling off your sweater and jeans. He watched you for a moment longer before nodding and turning back to the water. When you slid open the door to step in, the warm water hit your skin, making you shiver slightly before you adjusted. Quinn glanced at you over his shoulder, his eyes soft but tired. You reached out to brush a hand lightly over his back, feeling the tension there.

"Hey," you said softly, your voice barely audible over the water. “Give me the loofa.” He didn’t protest as you grabbed the bottle of body wash and worked it into a lather, your hands gentle as they moved over his shoulders and down his back. He let out a small, almost imperceptible sigh, the tightness in his posture easing under your touch.

Quinn lets out a soft sigh as he leans his head forwards against the wall, letting you works the suds over his body, your fingers replacing the loofa on occasion to push against the tight muscles, blossoming bruises in random spots on his soft skin. “I know something that might make you feel better.” You coo, stepping back as Quinn turns around a frown on his face, the warm water running down his chest. 

“What do you mea— oh, oh.” Quinn stutters as you drop to your knees. Quinns eyes are wide as he watches you reach upwards, your hand slowly grazing over his semi hard cock as you wrap your hand around it, pumping it slowly as it hardens fully. You glance up at him as you take him into your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks until you feel him touch the back of your throat, his hand bracing on either side of the shower as he lets out a string of curses. 

“Fuck.” He curses as you bob your head on his dick, your mouth coming off with a pop as you glide your tongue up the underside, Quinn thighs trembling slightly as you take him back in your mouth. You hand brace on his thighs as you take as much of him as you can fit into your mouth before pulling back and repeating the process. “Your mouth feels so good.” He groans, his green eyes flashing as he watches your hand wrap around his cock, pumping in the same way your hand was, the shower still running over his back as you glance up at him. 

“Come in my mouth, Quinn.” You whisper, letting your mouth fall open, as you pump him faster, his hips stuttering forwards as the precum begins to leak from his tip, your thumb collecting it as using it as lubricant as your squeeze the base of his dick, Quinn letting out a low groan as his hips jerk one more time, his cum landing on your tongue as you leans forwards to clean him up. 

“You know Santa is watching as I think that would put you on the naughty list.” Quinn jokes with a tired smile, wincing once again as it pulls on his stitches. You smile back, pushing yourself up from the floor, Quinn’s hands reaching out to steady you. 

“Well I guess you’re going to have to write him a letter about how super duper nice I’ve been this year.” You tease back, stealing the still soapy loofa from besides him to wash of any remnants of your showering activities. “Feeling any better?” You ask, with a quirk of your eyebrow, Quinn’s head nodding quickly. 

“So much better.” 

+

+

20th of December 

“We just need one more thing for your brothers and then we’re done.” You say quickly, glancing down at the shopping list you were holding. “Luke still requested the apple headphones.” You stifle a laugh as Quinn lets out a long groan, his hands tightly knotted in the back of your sweater as you make your way to the Apple Store. 

“I don’t understand why he wants them for christmas, he makes enough money to buy them himself.” Quinn complains, and you nod in agreement but find Lukes innocence around christmas refreshing compared to the rest of the families requests. 

“Yeah but we know how Luke is with money, he prefers to pretend it doesn’t exist because it just makes him nervous.” You explain, nodding a quick hello to the worker at the entrance as you drag your boyfriend over to the display of headphones. “He said he wanted the blue?” You say, reaching towards the metallic coloured headphone looking over them before comparing them to the photo the youngest Hughes has sent. 

Quinns hand tugs on the back of your sweater as the shop worker approaches, his free hand making quick work of pulling his hood up and over his head, pulling the cap he was wearing further down to hide his face better. 

“Hello, is there anything I can help you with today?” The worker asks quickly, his gaze shooting between you and your now criminal looking boyfriend. 

“Uh, we were hoping to get a pair of these sky blue AirPod max, it’s for my brother-in-law.” You explain quickly the workers eyes lighting up as he nods quickly, moving to punch some buttons in the tablet in his hand. 

“I’ll make sure we have one out the back for you.” He says quickly, hovering silently as he waits for the response on his iPad. “You know your boyfriend seems really familiar.” 

You freeze for a moment, Quinn’s hand tightening on the back of your sweater, pulling you slightly closer to him as if that could make him blend into the surroundings. His posture straightens, and he ducks his head a little more, eyes narrowing at the worker.

“Oh, uh, yeah. He’s a—” You start, but Quinn’s quiet voice cuts you off.

“Can we just get the headphones?” His tone is polite but curt, and it’s obvious he’s trying to avoid attention. The worker, however, seems not to pick up on Quinn’s discomfort, his eyes still flicking back and forth between the two of you.

“Sorry,” the worker continues, his voice a little too loud now, “it’s just, you really look like Quinn Hughes. The hockey player, right?” Quinn’s face tightens slightly. He doesn’t say anything at first, his eyes flicking to you quickly for a silent moment, before turning back to the worker with a small, forced smile. You can see him trying to mask the irritation behind his eyes, but it’s clear he’s not in the mood for attention today.

“Yeah,” he says flatly, rubbing his hand over the cut on his lip absentmindedly. The large, red gash across his upper lip is still healing, and it’s clear he’s not thrilled with the idea of having it photographed or discussed.

“Oh wow, that’s so cool! Can I get a picture with you? My girlfriend’s gonna freak out when I show her!” The worker says excitedly, completely missing the discomfort radiating off Quinn. You feel Quinn stiffen beside you. He shifts his weight uneasily, glancing briefly at the worker before looking back at you. He’s clearly trying to avoid drawing any more attention to himself. The large cut on his lip is still fresh, and the last thing he wants right now is to have a picture taken that could end up all over social media.

“Umm. now is not really a good time.” You say quickly, “with the high stick and everything he’s a little shy.” You whisper as you lean towards the worker, the worker nods quickly tucking his phone back into his pocket sending Quinn an apologetic smile. 

“My bad, your headphones should be up at the counter when you’re ready.” The worker says quickly rushing away as you turn to Quinn, who’s pouting as he had been all day. 

“Suck it up princess, we’re almost done.” You say, dragging him towards the counter, the man saying nothing but passing you his credit card as the cashier rings up the present.  Quinn doesn’t say anything as you finish paying for the headphones, but his posture stays tense, his lips still curled into a faint scowl. The cashier hands you the bag with the carefully wrapped headphones inside, and you shoot Quinn a sympathetic look. 

“Almost there, I swear,” you mutter, gently tugging on his sleeve as you make your way toward the exit.

Quinn grumbles in response, but it’s softer this time, and his hand loosens from the back of your sweater. He looks over at you, his brow furrowing just a little. “Why do we even bother with these shopping trips? You know I hate them.” You laugh, shaking your head.

 “Because it’s Christmas, and you're stuck with me. Besides, it’s part of the whole thing—giving, shopping, the stress, the fake smiles.” You nudge him playfully. “And you do love getting gifts for people, deep down.” Quinn hums in thought, but doesn’t argue as you both make your way toward the next shop on your list. His hand slips into yours, his earlier discomfort forgotten as you settle into the rhythm of your shared Christmas errands. The next store is a local record shop, which Quinn had insisted you add to your list despite the fact it was not part of the original plan. As you enter, the familiar smell of vinyl and incense hits you, and Quinn’s eyes light up, his earlier frustration momentarily forgotten.

“There we go,” he mutters to himself, as if the entire world had righted itself with the simple presence of music. You roll your eyes with a smile, watching as he gravitates toward the “New Releases” section with that spark of genuine interest that only comes with a record store visit.

“Just one album, right?” You call after him, hands on your hips. He turns, offering you a small, sheepish grin. “Maybe two,” he says innocently, but you know him well enough to understand it’ll be more like five by the time he’s done browsing. After a few minutes, you find yourself scanning the racks with him, picking up random albums you know you won’t buy but enjoying the process all the same.  You finally pull out a few albums that you think Luke might appreciate and hand them to Quinn, who takes them without question, his brows knitting together as he examines each one carefully. 

“This one’s good, right?” You ask, holding up a record by one of Jack’s favourite bands. He shrugs noncommittally, though his smile grows a little. 

“Could be worse,” he replies dryly, before he adds, “Jack’s not hard to buy for. He’ll love it.”

You beam. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

“I guess,” Quinn murmurs, slipping the vinyls into a bag and leading the way to the counter. By the time you’re both done, it’s dark outside, the streetlights casting a golden glow over the snow that’s started to fall more heavily. You loop your arm through his as you step out into the cold, making your way toward the car.

“So,” you start, glancing at him with a mischievous smile, “now that we’ve officially survived the shopping trip, I’ve got one more question.”

Quinn’s eyes flick to you, narrowing slightly. “What’s that?”

You glance at the bag of headphones in your hand, then back at him. “What are you getting me for Christmas?” Quinn shrugs his shoulders, as you both slide into the car, doing up your seatbelts before Quinn pulls out of your parking spot. 

“Why? My gifts so far haven’t been good enough?” Quinn questions teasingly, “I might have one you can open a few days early?” He suggests, your face lighting up in excitement, Quinn had learnt early on in your relationship to prepare a gift for you to open early to help you get through the Christmas Day without snooping. Last year he had let you open a box set of the book series you had been talking about for weeks - it kept you occupied all the way to christmas. 

“Oh, is it something fun?” You ask.

“You could say that.” He agrees, quickly adding, “Its small and pink and goes buzz.” He lets out a soft chuckle at his own inside joke your head spinning with ideas until it hits you. 

“Quintin Jerome Hughes, did you get me a vibrator for christmas?”  Quinn lets out a startled laugh, nearly swerving the car as he tries to compose himself. His eyes flicker to you, wide with a mix of amusement and embarrassment.

 “What? No, I—” He cuts himself off, glancing back at the road, and you can practically hear his thoughts racing. “I didn’t get you that... but maybe I did get you something that could buzz, if you know what I mean.” You raise an eyebrow, unable to suppress your smirk. You know that tone. The mischievous, half-embarrassed one that only shows up when Quinn's being playfully coy.

“Quinn Hughes, did you really just say that?” You lean forward, eyes narrowing in teasing disbelief. “Are you telling me that the early Christmas gift you’ve been hinting at is… a vibrator?” Quinn’s cheeks flush a deep shade of red, and he makes a hasty glance at the rearview mirror, then back at the road.

 “I—uh—I mean, I didn’t say it was that, but you’re not exactly wrong.” You burst into laughter, head thrown back as you catch a glimpse of his sheepish smile. He’s trying, and failing, to act casual. The tension in his shoulders tells you all you need to know—he’s definitely embarrassed, but he’s also clearly enjoying the effect his little tease is having on you.

“Quinn, I swear.” You laugh, nudging his shoulder playfully with yours. “I never would’ve guessed. I thought you were going to be all romantic and give me something sentimental—like, a photo album or something sweet. But no, you’re giving me a buzz-worthy surprise.”

“Hey, I am being romantic,” Quinn grumbles, though you can hear the hint of a smile in his voice. “It’s just… well, it’s a practical gift. You’ll see. You will appreciate it, trust me.”

“Uh-huh.” You can’t help but giggle, the idea of Quinn Hughes—this big, tough hockey player—giving you a vibrator as a Christmas present making the entire situation even more entertaining.  Quinn shoots you a quick glance, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter.

The rest of the drive is filled with light-hearted teasing and jokes, both of you trying to stay serious but failing miserably in the face of the absurdity of it all. Finally, Quinn pulls into your apartment building’s parking lot, his hands still gripping the wheel.

“Alright,” Quinn says, glancing over at you. “Before you get too excited, I need you to promise me something.”

“What’s that?” you ask, your curiosity piqued, your mind already racing with the possibilities.

“No spoiling it, okay?” He lets out a nervous chuckle. “I want you to really open it without expecting anything else. Just... let it be a surprise.” You smile sweetly, though your mind is already a whirlwind of teasing ideas. 

“Fine. I promise. But you know, I am really curious now. It’s hard to wait when you’ve already dropped that kind of hint.”

Quinn’s posture relaxes slightly, though you can tell he’s still not entirely sure if you’re going to let him get away with it. You both exit the car and walk toward the door, the tension between you playful, electric. Once inside, Quinn quickly heads to the kitchen, pulling out a small gift bag from behind his back. The pink tissue paper peeking out from the top is unmistakable. He hands it over with a careful smile. 

“Okay, go ahead,” he says, his voice a little quieter now, like he’s finally letting go of the buildup. “Merry early Christmas.”

You take the bag, a mix of amusement and anticipation buzzing through you. You peek inside, feeling something smooth and compact, wrapped in soft tissue paper. Your fingers trail over the shape, and you pull it out slowly, eyes widening as you pull the vibrator from the bag. 

Quinn’s cheeks flush again as he watches your reaction. “I swear, it’s not as weird as it sounds. I thought... you’d enjoy it. It’s a good one. I—uh—did my research.” You glance down at the vibrator in your hand before looking back up at your boyfriend. “It’s supposed to strap to my leg so you can— you know.” He begins to explain, pointing to the straps on the toy before down to his thigh, his muscles bulging through the fabric of his jeans. 

“Quinn, what was your plan for me to use this?” 

“I just thought maybe we could do something a little out of the ordinary?” He explains, rubbing the back of his neck, his curls falling in front of his forehead as he reaches forwards and snatches your new toy out of your hand. “If you don’t want it then don’t use it.” He says, the famous Hughes pout back on his face. 

“Who said anything about not wanting it? I just never thought you’d buy a vibrator for christmas, it’s just a little out of the ordinary.” You chuckle, stepping towards him your arms rising up to hang over his shoulders, tilting your head up to capture his lips in a long kiss, his hands immediately finding their usual spot around your waist, his lips chasing after yours as you pull away. 

“Show me how it works.” You whisper against his mouth, the firm material of his stitches rubbing against your lips. You pull away further from him, your hands trailing down to intertwine with his. "After all, you went through all the trouble to pick it out, didn’t you?”

Quinn's breath hitches slightly, and you catch the faintest flicker of a grin tugging at his lips. He sets the small toy back onto the counter and gives you a look—a mix of playful exasperation and genuine affection. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

You shrug innocently, your fingers brushing against the edge of his hoodie. “I mean, you’re the one who said it was practical,” you counter, your voice dripping with amusement. “I’m just trying to see if you really know how to use it.” His cheeks redden even more, and he bites back a laugh, shaking his head. 

“Alright,” he mutters, grabbing the vibrator again and fiddling with the straps. “Let’s just figure this out together. But if you start laughing too much, I’m taking it back.” You stifle a giggle as Quinn reads the tiny instruction booklet that came with the toy, his brow furrowing in concentration. His serious expression as he tries to decipher the diagram is endearing, and you can’t help but lean into his side, resting your head on his shoulder.

“You’re really committed to this, aren’t you?” you tease softly, your laughter breaking through when he gives you a mock glare.

“Of course I am,” he replies, a faint smile playing on his lips. “I told you—I wanted to do something different this year. And, well...” He trails off, holding up the vibrator with a slight smirk. “Mission accomplished?” You burst out laughing, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him closer. 

“Definitely accomplished. And for the record, I love it. You’re full of surprises, Quinn Hughes.” He ducks his head, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before glancing back at the toy. “Alright, let’s figure this out. But next year, I’m getting you something less... complicated.” Quinn works out the instructions quickly, strapping the new toy to his thigh, the purple silicone starting to look more tempting by the second. 

“Quinn.” You say softly as he continues to read through the instruction manual. 

“Hmm.” He hums in response, his eyes not leaving the small plastic booklet. You start by pulling off your shirt, shuffling your leggings down your legs next, your underwear remaining in place as you tap on his shoulder, his gaze shooting up at you the booklet dropping from his hands. 

“Go sit on the couch.” Quinn doesn’t hesitate making his way over to the couch sinking into the cushions as he watches you approach, his legs opening slightly as you stand in front of him — your hands slowly pulling your panties down your legs as you lift your legs to straddle his left thigh, sitting down ontop of the silicone now strapped to his leg, the cold of the toy making you shiver in delight. 

“Show me how it works, Quinn.” You say softly, bracing your hands on his shoulders, as his eyes lock on yours, your boyfriend clearing his throat before looking down at the app on his phone, fiddling with the screen until he finds the on button. 

“It had ten speeds.” Quinn says softly, the soft vibrations almost instantly melting your body as they tease along your slit. “They recommend riding the toy.” Quinn coughs, one hand gripping his unlocked phone the other gripping the front of the couch cushion. You nod at his instructions slowly moving your hips back and forth along the toy as Quinn bumps up the vibrations by two levels. 

Quinn watches you ride the toy for a few moments before bumping up the speed again, his legs tensing as you let out a soft groan. “Shit, that feels good.” You whisper, your nails digging into Quinns shoulders as you throw your head back, your breathing becoming heavier, your tits pushing towards Quinns face. 

“Can you —” Quinn hesitates, his throat bobbing around the lump, “Can you take of your bra?” He asks softly, almost embarrassed. 

“You’ve got hands” You hiss as he bumps the speed up again, your hips starting to loose their rhythm. Quinn takes your response and runs with it, his phone dropping to the couch besides him, his hands reaching for the back clasps of your bra, pulling the fabric away from your chest as fast as he can manage letting your tits falling free, as you glance down at your boyfriend you can see the ways he’s drooling over watching you move against him. 

“You can touch them you know - this isn’t a hands off month or anything.” You snark, smiling as Quinn wastes no time in latching his mouth to one of your nipples, sucking on the sensitive flesh as his other hand reaches up to cup the lonely one, his lips leave your nipples pressing kisses along your chest before latching onto the next one, your fingers digging into the hair at the base of his neck as you let out a long moan. 

“Speed it up Quinn.” You grumble, yours hips moving frantically now as his kisses make their way up your neck, his hands fiddling with his phone, pressing the screen a few times as the vibrator maxes out. 

“Oh god save me.” You hum, your eyes squeezing shut as your move your hips desperately, Quinns fingers pinching your chin as he lowers your head down to his, his lips capturing yours in an antagonising and slow kiss. Both his hands helping guide your hips agains his thigh as you moan against his mouth. 

“Fuck, I’m so close.” You grumble against his mouth as he kisses you again, his leg bouncing slightly as your grind against it, a small squeal leaving you as your orgasm hits, Quinn’s hand holding you down against the vibrator as you try to escape, the feeling overwhelming as your let out another high pitched moan trying to break free of Quinn hold. 

“God can’t find you now.” Quinn teases as he slowly lowers the vibrations on the toy until he turns it off completely, your wetness running down to toy and soaking into his jeans - your body collapsing into his chest as you let out ragged breaths. “Maybe switching things up wasn’t such a bad idea after all.” 

+

+

25th of December - Christmas Day

“Merry Christmas everyone!” You cheer as you and Quinn walk into the house - the Millers holding the annual christmas get together for those without a larger Family to see over the two day break. You drop the presents you had bought for Quinn’s teammates by the tree before rushing into the kitchen to give quick hello’s to the hosts of the day. 

“The matching shirts are amazing.” You say to Natalie as you take in the small family in their christmas outfits, the same ones they had worn on the christmas card they had sent out the friends and family. 

“What about you and Quinn looking great as always.” Natalie coos right back, Quinn and JT giving each other a quick hug and a grumble ‘merry christmas’ before joining the two of you near the counter. 

“Merry Christmas,” Quinn murmurs, leaning in to kiss the top of your head as you chat with Natalie. The warmth of his affection makes your cheeks flush, though you’re quick to hide it behind a laugh.

“Alright, let’s see this spread,” Quinn says, stepping away to inspect the food table, and JT follows with a knowing smirk.

Natalie gives you a wink. “You two are adorable. Don’t let him get too caught up with JT’s nonsense, though. Last year, they spent half the night debating hockey stats instead of mingling.”

You grin. “I’ll keep an eye on him.” As the party flows on, you and Quinn find yourselves swept into small conversations—catching up with friends, laughing at old stories, and enjoying the cozy chaos of the Miller household. The sound of Christmas music and the hum of happy chatter fill the air, but your focus keeps wandering back to Quinn. Every shared glance and subtle touch sets your heart racing, and you can tell he feels it too.

At one point, you catch him standing near the Christmas tree, looking at you with a soft smile that sends a shiver down your spine. He nods subtly toward the hallway. Your pulse quickens as you follow his lead, slipping away from the crowd unnoticed.

Quinn takes your hand, guiding you down the hall and into the small, dimly lit bathroom. The door clicks shut behind you, and before you can say anything, his lips are on yours—warm, urgent, and full of everything he’s been holding back all evening.

“You’ve been driving me crazy all night,” he murmurs against your lips, his hands resting on your hips as he pulls you closer.

You smile against his mouth, threading your fingers into his hair. “I was wondering how long you’d hold out.”

His chuckle is low and soft as he leans back to look at you, his gaze filled with affection and mischief. “Merry Christmas, baby,” he whispers before kissing you again, his hands roaming your back as the world outside the bathroom fades away.

Time seems to stop as you lose yourselves in the quiet, stolen moment—just the two of you, tangled together in the warmth of your love, while the party hums on outside.

Quinn’s hands slide up your sides, his touch firm yet careful, as if he’s savouring every second of having you this close. The kiss deepens, his lips parting yours in a way that sends sparks racing through your veins. You feel his breath hitch when you tug gently at his hair, and the soft groan he lets out only fuels the fire growing between you.

Without breaking the kiss, he moves his hands down to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly onto the bathroom counter. The cool surface contrasts with the heat of your body, making you gasp against his lips.

“Too much?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, his forehead resting against yours for a moment as he searches your face.

“Not even close,” you whisper, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw before pulling him back in. His hands grip your thighs firmly, spreading them just enough so he can step closer, his hips pressing against yours.

The kiss grows hungrier, more desperate, as if the world outside has completely disappeared. His fingers tease the hem of your dress, his fingers tickling the soft skin of your thighs. The sensation sends a shiver up your spine, and you press yourself closer to him, your legs wrapping loosely around his hips.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he breathes against your lips, his hands roaming higher under your sweater.

“You started this,” you tease, your voice shaky but filled with a grin.

He chuckles, leaning down to kiss along your jaw, then your neck, his lips and teeth sending shockwaves through you with every touch. Your head tilts back against the mirror, your hands clutching at his shoulders, desperate to keep him close.

A sudden burst of laughter from the party beyond the bathroom door jolts you both back to reality for a moment. Quinn freezes, his lips still pressed to your collarbone, his breath warm against your skin.

“We’re being way too loud,” he whispers, though his smirk suggests he’s anything but sorry.

You laugh softly, biting your lip to keep from making a sound as his hands tighten on your hips. “Then maybe we should stop…”

“Not a chance,” he says, capturing your lips again in a kiss that leaves no room for argument. His fingers continue their way under your skirt before grazing lightly over the centre of your panties, pulling away quickly as you let out a sharp gasp. 

“Fuck it, we’re doing it.” Quinn hisses. His hands making quick work of his belt buckle and yanking his pants open, the material falling to his knees as his cock springs free. His finger slide back under your skirt pushing your panties to the side before pulling you to the very edge of the counter, lining his hips up with yours. “You need to stay quiet.” He whispers as you let out a moan, his hand slapping over your mouth as he slides inside of you. 

You nod quickly, digging you teeth into his palm as he speeds up his movements, his teeth digging into his own lip as he keeps you steady with a hand on your hip, one of your own hands bracing against the sink as you lift two fingers up to Quinn’s mouth.  “Help a girl out here.” Your words are still muffled by his hand, he nods, letting you dip your fingers into his mouth, his tongue swirling around them before releasing them with a pop, your fingers quickly dipping under your skirt rubbing against your clit as Quinn’s hips stutter. 

“Keep going.” You beg, your pussy clenching around him, trying to milk him of his orgasm as his hips thrust slower and harder, the two of you panting as you both reach your high, Quinn leaning forwards to dig his teeth into your shoulder, letting out a grunt as he pumps into you one more time, his hot cum spurting inside of you, the sensation overwhelming as you whine against his hand. 

“We just fucked in your teammates bathroom, on Christmas.” You say into his palm, letting out a choked laugh as Quinn joins you his dick slowly pulling out of you, Quinn pulling away to gather some toiler paper, cleaning himself off before tucking everything back into his pants. His hands on your hips help you back off the counter, a stack of wet paper towel finding their way between your legs cleaning any leaking mess slipping out of you before he repositions your underwear, pressing a chaste kiss against your lips as he gives you a sly smile. 

“I just couldn’t help myself.” He says quietly, pecking you again as he smooths out your skirt. “I hoped you enjoyed your twelve gifts of christmas.” He laughs, your hand finding his as you pull open the door to the bathroom, peeking around the corner before walking out into the hallway. 

“Oh, it’s going to be a new tradition at this point.” You say, not giving him any time to respond and you join the party again. 

[vifilms]

farmhand!abby who is a sweet girlfriend, loves you more than life itself, treats as you such. wines and dines you, makes sure you’re taken care at any and all times. delicate, kind words of affirmation, the time she sets aside for you even when the muscles in her body from being overworked as a farmhand ache. abby pays attention to the small little trinkets you have your eye on would be wrapped up by the next week, waiting for your expectant eyes to light up, sending her heart into overdrive.

farmhand!abby who loves to give, she’s always been a giver. she loves seing her lover squirm, hips bucking, and curses leave your lips each time she teases. abby never quite takes it easy on you even so. she loves eating pussy like it’s her fucking job. those broad shoulders wedged between your thighs and strong, calloused hands pining your stomach as your hips attempt to buck into her mouth. you’re whimpering, whining for more like a brat. well…most of the time, but tonight you chose to be quiet. a little game of cat and mouse. you do it for the outcome. smirking at abby, the overachiever. even if you’re soaking through the cotton sheets, she needs you to be loud. this simply will not fucking do.

she makes a mess of you, spitting sloppily along your swollen lips, slapping your clit as she pinched her clit between her fingertips. “you sure you’re stuck on being quiet sweetheart? m’not sure you have it in you.” abby slaps your cunt again, “to defy me.”

you whimper moan out her name, more like cursing it, but to her it’s all the same. “see? knew you couldn’t last long.” she slaps your weeping cunt with another hit, jolting your body up on her bed.

she’s musky, smells like a hard earned day, but you want to inhale every scent she has to offer. blonde, baby hairs sticking to her face as she pushes your thighs up, knees nearly hitting the headboard. she cups your pussy, thumb circling a hole that’s never quite been explored by her or anyone for that matter.

“a-abs, shit, we’ve only talking about this once.” abby pauses, inquiring a soft question. “do you not want to?” you nod, a delicate yes comes out when she spits on your cunt. again.

“now, be my sweet baby and let me stretch this pretty ass of yours, yeah? how’s that sound?”

taglist: @plutolovesyou @brackishkittie @nybueckers @only4theweeknd @tlouloser @marvelwomenarehot0 @r3starttt

wanna be tagged?

[cherubfae]

𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔠𝔨 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔠𝔨 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔠𝔨 || {𝔪𝔲𝔩𝔱𝔦𝔣𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔬𝔪}

In thick dick we trust

|| 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐔𝐁𝐅𝐀𝐄'𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 ||

tags: smut, NSFW, fem!reader, breeding, blowjobs, fingering, slight angst/fix-it-fic and spoilers for JJK (Gojo), predator/prey dynamics, public sex, no foreplay (in some), monster fucking, belly bulge, impossible standards but we can dream, unprotected sex, slight dubcon (pyramid head), this is a trail mix of all sorts of some of my favorite men (and my bestie's)!!. Pls enjoy!!

leon's is a bit short bc he's got a halloween treat comin' up ;D

Leon

"This is not a good idea." Leon's voice hisses next to your ear. Ever the hypocrite, he's not one to heed his own warning. He is far too focused on tugging his pants half-way down his ass, panting hotly at your ear, the clasps of his belt jingling together as he frees his swollen cock. His fingers push into your hole, messily stretching you out. Knowing you two don't have much time, he pulled them out after, lapping at your essence with a pleased moan. "So fuckin' good, princess."

Sinking into you with a guttural groan, Leon snaps his hips into you. His shirt is messily pulled up to his abdomen, biting his lip to conceal any moans. You back your ass up, meeting his thrusts as quickly and most importantly, as quietly as possible.

"I know this is rushed but you gotta try to relax for me, baby." He kisses just below your ear. "You were the one who wanted to fuck at a Halloween party, right? I promise I'll take care of you as much as you need me to when we're home... But for now, loosen up that pussy for this cock you love so much, yeah?" He breathily chuckles.

Zayne

"You're too bold for your own good...," His lashes flutter, his head falling back to rest on his chair. Legs widening, Zayne's breath stutters out of him the deeper you take his rigid length. "Doing such a thing like this in a place of healthcare practice and to a renowned surgeon no less. How naughty."

His heart stutters at your intense gaze between his parted thighs. Pulling off his cock, he can see how his length and your lips glisten with precum and saliva. "You say that... But were you not the one who fingered me to sleep last time I was here?" You smirk as Zayne's ears flush red.

"You said you needed help sleeping... Orgasms can provide that. When all of your muscles are tight during sexual arousal, an orgasm helps relaxes those muscles." Came his clinical response, despite both of you knowing you'd successfully cornered him. You grip his cock once more, relishing in how his hips jerk upwards.

Lapping at his tip, you grin. "And that's what I'm doing just now. My favorite doctor said he needed help relaxing-- and I think this is just what the doctor prescribed." The groan Zayne let out as you lowered your mouth onto him was music to your ears.

Sal Fisher

After your very first successful Halloween party in your new shared apartment, you and Sal giggle and hush one another, messily pulling off each other's costumes. You, a witch and Sal, a skeleton (or as he worded it, your 'willing victim'). With Chase Atlantic playing rhythmically from Sal's old stereo, he pushes you gently onto the soft bed.

Mask left forgotten and his glass eye already out of his socket and cleaning in a cup at his bedside table next to his tiny suction device. You couldn't help but adore him, staring up at him tenderly. You loved that he was able to be so comfortable with you like this. You supposed knowing him since high school and dating since sophomore year helped!

You reach up and cup his scarred cheeks, running your thumb above his missing nose. Sal closes his good eye, breath warm on your palm. He kisses your fingers, covering your hand with his. The passionate energy takes a softer turn, gently pulling off your clothing until you were both laid bare.

"I will never get over how beautiful you are." Sal murmured, his cold hands cupping the swell of your breasts, thumb circling the hardened nipple. His thick cock, surrounded by blue hair, nudges between your folds, though he is no rush to enter. Leaning down, he kisses you softly, an action you readily return.

Pyramid Head

You were easy to corner. It was laughable, really. Pyramid Head couldn't ignore those sweltering feelings any longer. The thrill of hunting you down like small prey had thrilled him to no end. He was sick of those nurses and the mannequins. He wanted something real, someone warm.

The scrape of his Great Knife splitting through concrete and asphalt grated on your ears. Wedging his knife into the crease of the segmented sidewalk, Pyramid Head backs you up against the fence. He towers above you; he has no visible eyes to look at, only the cold, rusted and bloody triangular helmet that presses against your cheek.

A shuddering, inhuman growl bellows like iron rubbing together, followed by a rather curious huff. Something hard pokes at your tummy and your eyes widen, heat rising to your cheeks. This thing... This humanoid embodiment of hate was rock hard, rutting his large erection against the seam of your jeans. His hands grapple for your shoulders, huffing demonically again. Impatient.

Seeing no other choice and admittedly, you were a bit curious. It certainly had been quite some time since someone had craved anything of you. And from what you could see of the great Pyramid Head, your curiosity had been thoroughly piqued.

Shimming your jeans and underwear down, you yelp as Pyramid Head hauls you into his strong arms. One arm barred across your lower back, his large blood covered hand spreads open your folds. Then, the fattest tip you've ever seen pokes out from under his dirtied apron; sliding up your folds to collect your wetness. He rubs himself against you messily, his hand moving to lock at your elbow, keeping you in place.

With immense searing heat, he pushes his thick, swollen cock into your tight channel. You feel like you're floating, your head knocking back against the fence. You could feel him stretch you impossibly wide, your tummy extending ever so slightly, and with the frantic upwards cant of his hips, you knew that the beast was far from done.

Gojo Satoru

He was here. He was home. Sukuna was dead. Defeated. The strongest had once again prevailed. Satoru had made it back to you alive.

Satoru approaches you like you were a newborn deer, power thrummed off of him. He'd let his infinity down. You weren't sure what you looked like in that moment, but you imagined he was mirroring your expression back at you. His snow-white hair was messily disheveled, his lips in a wobbly, uncertain smile and his eyes-- those endless ocean eyes. They looked like rippling waves with the more tears that filled them and spilled over, clearing paths on his dirty cheeks.

"I'm home, honey." Satoru spoke hoarsely, trembling as he gathers you in his arms. Instantly, his face finds its home at your neck, breathing in your scent. "I'm home." His grip tightened.

After hours of snuggling up on the sofa and Satoru freshly showered, you along with him--neither of you could bear to be apart from the other right now. You curled into his embrace, his arms wrapped around you like a safety belt, his long fingers brush the waistband of yours, his, sweatpants. Satoru kissed your jaw.

"Is it okay, pretty? I--," Voice breaking, Satoru swallowed thickly. "I need to know this isn't a dream." Nodding, you shift your hips up, helping him push your sweatpants and underwear down. Satoru does the same, gently swirling his pink head against your folds.

Leaning into his embrace, you grip his arms, making him look at you. "I don't need prep, 'Toru. I wanna feel you too. Want it just like this, please?" Cupping his cheek, he leans into your touch and nods understandingly. Guiding himself into you, the two of you gasp. Your fingers thread together tightly, slowly rocking into each other. Reunited once again. <3

Cloud

It was no secret that Cloud could be quite socially awkward. When he wasn't thinking about his next payment, the free estate of his mind more than often drifted to you. It was rare for him to not have you by his side, but you'd had your own mission to attend to.

Mako-blue eyes drift to his lap, feeling the subtle twitch in his black trousers. He'd been throbbing for days on end now, but rather than dealing with it he willed it to leave on its own. Pleasure always felt better when it was shared with you, after all. But thinking of you only served to make his cock harden more.

Hissing, Cloud shoved his bottoms down far enough for his swollen member to pop up, slapping wetly against his bare stomach; a string of sticky pre connecting his skin to his reddened tip. With a growl, he wrapped his hand tightly around the base of his thick cock and squeezed his eyes shut tight, doing his best to mimic how you felt around him.

He could still feel the phantom touches as you traced your fingers up to his tip and down to his base, moving your hand to cup and fondle at his heavy balls, every touch of yours was like you were worshipping a beautiful lost god.

"Shit--fuck, baby!" Cloud gasps, hips jerking into his fist, cum squirting out of him until his knuckles were dripping in it. He'd really been too pent up... He couldn't wait til you were home. He misses you. :(

Bonus for the sillies<3

Astarion

"Shhhhhh, darling...," Astarion hushes into your mouth, making you snort back at him. The two of you drunkenly giggle, a little more than pleasantly buzzed, and chat with each other out in the hall of the inn in what you two think were whispers. "Can't wake the others. Do you have the key?" He hiccups softly, leaning his chin on your shoulder, making your hunt for the room key that much more difficult.

You grin and pull the key out of your chest bandages, winking. Astarion purred approvingly. Leaning your forehead onto the door, you narrow your eyes and focus on trying to hold it steady, struggling to line the key up with the doorknob. Behind you, Astarion snickers like a schoolboy.

"You don't struggle this much guiding me into you... Has a door bested you, love?" He slurrs, nuzzling at your arm like an affectionate cat. You scowl and playfully and softly place your entire hand on his face and ease him back.

"Ack!" Astarion sputtered, blinking with annoyance as you unlock the door triumphantly. You enter first, the spawn stumbling in behind you. He makes for the bed first, leaving a trail of clothing behind him and crawling atop the sheets. Propping his cheek up with his palm, he relaxes into an attempt to look seductive, which wasn't hard. His thick cock, however, was quickly becoming so. Everything about him was ethereally beautiful, even in your drunken haze.

You squint at him, weighing your options as best you could with your inebriated state. If the two of you started fucking, the chances of either waking up another inn guest or resulting in some sort of drunken injury were quite high.

Ultimately, you decide it's not a good idea, as delicious as Astarion looked. You shed your boots and sit on the edge of the bed. The spawn pouts, reminding you of a cat once again as he paws at your backside.

"Don't you want to, love? We can snuggle instead if that's your desired passion." Astarion wiggled himself under your arms. You smile, brushing back his bangs to kiss his forehead. "We should wait 'til we're both sober, honey." Astarion nuzzled himself against your bosom.

Easing you both back onto the bed, Astarion cuddles into you. The both of you pass out, the spawn entirely naked at your side and you; half-dressed and half-off the bed in a starfish spread, mouth wide open in a snore.

|| ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ʀᴇᴜꜱᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴀʏ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱɪᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ. ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ © ᴄʜᴇʀᴜʙꜰᴀᴇ 2024 ||

[cherryredstars]

Not sure if I’m doing this right since I’m new to tumbler :D but hi love ur writing followed you in an instant!

I was wondering if you could write something for a very low self esteem, inexperienced reader who goes to uni so is like 21 or something and is Miguel’s neighbor. They live in this building and their other neighbor is a rude lady who complains at the slightest Noise basically. she doesn’t dare bother Miguel but is always bothering the reader since reader can’t tell her to f off. Reader is just such sweet chubby lil cinnamon roll :(

Idk if I should have been less descriptive or more TvT; ?

Anyway hope you’re doing great :D don’t forget to hydrate ♥️

1K Prompts

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Age Gap, Sexual Touching (With Clothes on), Slight Fluff

Summary: He helps you, you help him.

A/N: This is perfect, don’t worry, love!!!

Word Count: 2.4K (Not Edited)

This is most definitely going to leave you a crying wreck in your bathroom later.

Your nerves were already on high alert with finally becoming independent and moving out of the college dorms, that pesky exam and assignment you procrastinated on working on, and your job has been firing and hiring people left and right. The last thing you needed was your cranky old neighbor, (it is crazy to think that you once thought she was going to be a kind old woman who would give you cookies when she was lonely), to come banging on your door with a  list of complaints and reasons why she could get you evicted. You do not know what to do, never being in this type of situation before. Honestly, you do not even know about half the things this woman is accusing you of. 

You can only stand there, hand tightly holding the door open as you try not to cry from stress. In your head, you are counting in an effort to make sure your breaths are coming out evenly. The last thing you want is to have a panic attack and have your neighbor add the threat of a mental hospital to the list. You nod along weakly to what she says, letting out whispered apologies that only seem to make her angrier. 

“You useless teenagers and your need to ruin good things, don’t think I forgot when you tr-”

“Is there a problem here?”

His voice is deep and smooth, causing the both of you to jolt. You visibly relax when you turn your head to find Miguel standing outside his apartment door. He has just gotten back from work and running errands, his lab coat draped over his arm as he holds paper bags in his arms. His hair is slightly tousled from the autumn breeze, and a few strands of his black hair are scattered with grey. His sweater hugs his arms and torso in a way that is mouthwatering, and you quickly look away when his eyes meet yours.

Miguel is the only neighbor you really know. He had helped you the first time you moved in, hearing the way you struggled to bring some things up to your apartment. He offered to help, carrying in boxes faster than you could into your apartment. When you had gotten furniture, he was happy to come over and assemble it for you. He is so kind to you, offering to help with a leaking pipe or to answer any of your questions about how to do something. You might have grown a slight crush on your neighbor, something that slightly freaked you out when you realized because of the obvious age gap the two of you have. You have not even finished college yet and he is in his mid-thirties working in a big corporate lab. 

Miguel clears his throat and you look back at him. He stares at you expectantly, totally ignoring the stuttering woman who tries to answer his question. He is only ever interested in what you have to say. You flush under his intent gaze, quickly shaking your head. You do not want to cause more problems, and you definitely do not want to have your cranky neighbor form a bigger vendetta against you. 

Miguel’s eyebrow raises, definitely catching the anxious expression on your face. He hums dismissively after a minute, eyes lazily trailing back to the older woman. His nose scrunches up slightly at the sight of her and he looks away again as the woman stops trying to defend herself. Miguel shrugs, the paper bags rustling with their contents. He turns to face you, once again ignoring the older woman. 

“Then you wouldn’t mind helping me put away my groceries, right? Can’t get my keys with my hands full,” Miguel speaks in a lazy drawl. 

You are quick to nod your head in agreement, stepping out of your doorway and closing the door. The woman steps back, a displeased look on her face as she watches you walk over to Miguel. Miguel keeps his eyes trained on you, watching everything you do. You are shy when you smile up at him. With your back turned towards the old woman, you mouth a ‘thank you’ to him. His eyes instantly snap to your lips, intently studying your exaggerated words. His eyes seem to darken for a second before he blinks and it is gone. His eyes trail back up to your eyes and he tilts his head slightly down. 

“Keys are in my pants pocket.”

You quickly nod, whispering out an ‘okay’. Your face burns as you have to get closer to him to not knock into his arms. The angle is slightly awkward, your hands slip into his pants pocket and your face burns from having your hand so close to his…thing. As you try to find his keys, Miguel looks down at you with a heated look. He watches silently for a few minutes before looking back up and over your shoulder to the older woman. His face is masked in indifference, maintaining eye contact with her until she fidgets and turns away without saying a word. 

At the same time she walks into her own apartment, you make a sound of victory as you finally retrieve his keys. You dangle them in his face with a proud smile, and he gives you an amused smirk. He steps away from his apartment door, giving you room to step in front of him and unlock his door. As you insert the key, you feel Miguel press up against your back. His warmth seeps into your spine and you are quick to bite your tongue so you do not let out a squeal.  

His breath tickles your neck and ear, warm and slightly minty. “What did I tell you about standing up for yourself, hmm cariño?”

The question rumbles with his voice and you have to hold your breath in order to not make an embarrassing sound. You turn to look at him over your shoulder and instantly regret it. He has not moved his face yet, and you are a breath away from him. If you leaned forward the slightest bit, your noses would be touching. You gulp nervously, and Miguel’s eyes trail down to your lips once again. He lets out a deep hum as you lick them nervously. 

“I- she’s not that mean to me.” You whisper out in the older woman’s defense. You cannot help the way your lashes flutter as you try to meet his eyes. 

Miguel scoffs at your defense, finally backing away from you. He shifts his hold on the bags, freeing his hand to turn the doorknob. Your hand is still there, and your breath hitches when his large hand encompasses yours. His hand moves both yours and the doorknob, making a combined effort to open the door. You are still watching him from over your shoulder, mouth slightly opened in awe. Miguel looks down at you, something playful in his eyes as he tilts his head to the side. 

“You’re blocking the doorway, cariño. The ice cream I got you is going to melt.”

Your blush returns from the pet name and you stutter out an apology as you rush inside his apartment. It’s warm, and you’re hit with the smell of him. You find the light switch and turn on the lights, flooding the whole place with a warm glow. Miguel follows you into the kitchen, placing the paper bags on the dining room table. He rummages through them, glaring at you when you try to grab one to start helping. His hands connect with something cold, and he pulls out a personal pint of ice cream. He hands it over to you and you turn it around to see the label. Your eyes instantly light up when you read the brand and flavor. Last week you had ranted to Miguel about how the grocery store did not have your favorite ice cream in stock as he was fixing a problem with your internet. The whole time he just hummed along, you did not actually think he was listening. 

He smiles softly at you as you beam up at him. He turns back to the groceries, sighing when he sees your hand reaching for the bags again. He turns to you with a bored expression. He gently removes your hands from the bag, telling you to go eat your ice cream before it melts. You grumble playfully under your breath, complaining about how you were supposed to be helping. He chuckles as he follows after you, getting a spoon out for you. 

“I thought the whole point was that I was supposed to help you put the groceries away, not eat them.” 

Your complaining is cut off by a yelp when Miguel grabs your waist. He lifts you up, putting you on top of the counter. Your eyes are wide as you look at him and his head nuzzles into the crook of your neck. You squirm slightly from his proximity. 

“You can help me by sitting prettily and keeping me company. Tell me about your day.” 

He pulls away then, returning to the dining room table and carrying a bag to the counter next to you. Your eyes are still bashful as you watch him, quietly opening your ice cream and beginning to eat it. Miguel starts to pull contents from the bag and looks over at you expectantly. Hesitantly, you begin to go through your day, easing into it the more you talk. You speak between bites of ice cream, half paying attention to Miguel as he walks around the kitchen to place things in their proper places. Occasionally, he looks over at you as you speak, his eyes trained on the way you place the spoon in your mouth and lick at the delicious treat. 

You are almost done when he puts the last thing away. He walks over to you as you continue talking absentmindedly, just finished slipping the spoon out of your mouth again. You stop talking when Miguel’s eyes drop to your mouth, his thumb coming up the swipe at your lower lip. When he pulls it away, a bit of melted ice cream is stuck to his skin. His eyes meet yours again when he brings it to his mouth, licking it away. He hums in appreciation for the taste. 

Your mouth drops open with a gasp as you watch, eyes trained on the pink muscle. You watch as his lips form a sly smile, and you blush as you look back into his eyes. But his eyes are still trained on your parted mouth, eyes dilated and hungry. He leans forward slightly, hand returning to rub at your bottom lip before he replaces it with his lips. He is not kissing you exactly, only sucking on your lip until it is swollen and red. He gives it a small nip before he pulls away, his hands falling to rub your thighs. It causes a small whimper to escape your mouth and Miguel basks in the noise. 

His hand seeps closer and closer to the area between your thighs, grabbing the carton of ice cream and moving it to the side. His hands hastily return to the area between your thighs, fingers brushing against your center. Your breath hitches and you look down to where his hands are. Your attention is snapped away when his gravelly voice meets your ears. 

“Continue with the story, querida. You don’t sound like you finished.”

You stutter over your words, the topic of conversation blanking from your mind. Miguel chuckles knowingly, his fingers continuing to brush up and down until they land on your clothed bud. He presses into it hard enough so you can feel it through the fabric of your pants and panties, gently reminding you where you left off. You nod nervously, hands snapping up to meet his shoulders as you feel wetness rushing into your panties. You stutter and choke on your words, eyes shutting as you rotate your hips sloppily into his hand. The movement is jerky, and you feel slightly embarrassed at how painfully obvious it is that no one has ever touched you like this before. But Miguel seems to like it, likes the idea that you’re untouched and he is the only person who has seen you like this. 

It gets even better when you make those soft noises, cutting yourself off and having to be reminded about what you were saying. Miguel continues his hand movements, pressing into you and rubbing and stroking. Your wetness has seeped through your panties, dampening the material of your leggings. If you were not lost in how good it feels, you would have been grossed out and uncomfortable. A weak call of his name escapes you and Miguel looks up from your cunt to look at your face. He hums in acknowledgement, watching as you try to pull his face closer to yours in a kiss. 

He swiftly avoids it, and you would have curled into yourself at the blunt rejection if you did not become distracted by his mouth suck and licking along your neck and jaw. Your mouth falls open with a moan, head leaning back to give him more room. He groans against your skin, fingers pressing tight circles to your clit. With a few hard circles, your back arches and your hold on him tightens. Gasping moans leave you and you feel the band in you snap, releasing more wetness into your panties as you finish. Miguel pulls his head away from your neck, keeping his fingers to your bud as you ride out the orgasm. Once you slump back down, he pulls his hands away. As you catch your breath, Miguel cleans up the mess on the counter. He reaches over, closing your melted ice cream and putting the spoon in the sink. 

You are still in a daze when he pushes the warm container in your hands, his own hands gentle as he lifts you off the counter. Your eyes are glossy in after-lust as he gently guides you out of his apartment and into yours. His warm hand leaves the small of your back, massaging your sides before he whispers a thank you into your ear for your help. You are only pulled completely out of your daze when you hear your door lock and close as Miguel leaves. You turn to look at the door, cheeks blazing as you clutch tightly onto your ice cream.

You are totally getting a noise complaint for that old woman tomorrow.

Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5

Extra 1

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[kisakis-boyfriend]

OH SHIT UH baizhu x monster reader because I've been thinking about him lately. maybe something dubcon-y? I love pathetic men whimpering and crying 🎃

Author's Note: My mind went places, y'all… very horny places. 💀

Pairings: Baizhu x male reader

Warnings: Male plant monster!reader, dom/top!reader, sub/bottom!Baizhu, sort of gullible Baizhu, dubcon, handjob, facial, riding, aphrodisiac, mild dumbification

Why he had to run out of this particular herb was beyond him. As if that wasn't annoying enough, his suppliers were out of stock and wouldn't be able to ship him any more. The location of this herb has become increasingly dangerous, and no one could figure out why the men sent to gather these herbs came back… weird, to say the least. Nonetheless, Baizhu needed those herbs to treat his patients.

Was it a stupid idea to travel out there by himself and gather them by hand; yes, most certainly, and Changsheng told him as much, but a doctor's mind is a puzzling thing.

And that's how he ended up here; in the high mountains of Chenyu Vale. Normally, one would expect to run into a few monsters, at the very least, but Baizhu had yet to see a single one during his trek. There were plenty of other creatures, and the foliage didn't seem withered, so it's not as if this place was devoid of life nor on a biological decline—there was simply a lack of danger. Which is a strange occurrence, considering the reports he'd read…

That fact really should be comforting to the frail doctor, but in truth, it made a shiver run down his spine. His eyes nervously scanned over the immediate grassy grounds, hoping to catch a glimpse of the herb he so desperately needed — desperate enough to set foot on this mountain alone.

It took a bit more searching, but the herb in question was flourishing just around the back of one particular mountain. Baizhu carefully made his way towards the area, picking one herb and inspecting it to check its quality and that it was, in fact, the correct herb. Picking a few more, Baizhu comes across one plant that refuses to be plucked — an unusually tough herb, resisting his attempts to yank it out from the dirt.

As he goes to inspect the stem, a soft voice cries out; “U-um… excuse me? Could you help me…?” Looking over his shoulder, the doctor spots a person's head sticking up out of the ground—except their skin has a pale green hue to it, and as this person rises up, he notices how the ground around them shifts; as though the ground is a part of them.

Baizhu turns halfway, cautiously keeping an eye on you as he questions, “…What do you need help with?” The way your body flows effortlessly when you move—creating ripples in the immediate area around your torso—piques Baizhu's curiosity.

“O-oh! Um… it's a little embarrassing, if I'm being honest, sir…” you begin, “As you've probably guessed, I am not a human — think of me as a type of dendro spirit, I guess? Uh, anyways, there's this…ritual, of sorts, that only a human can help me with–”

The whole time you're explaining this predicament of yours, Baizhu keeps a watchful eye on you to make sure you're not tricking him. Even though you come across as rather sheepish.

“…I understand if you don't trust me, I just don't know what else to do…humans don't come around here too often, and the pain has become so much worse–”

“I'll help you.” He interjects. The sparkles in your eyes force him to hold back a chuckle as you thank him a million times over. “Please take me to this plant of yours.”

You excitedly take off, essentially a torso and head gliding halfway inside the ground, while this kind human with green hair trails just behind. Arriving at your destination, Baizhu kneels down, giving you a glance, and you return it nervously.

Baizhu eyes the plant inquisitively, staring at the odd shape and strange fleshy texture of the whole thing.

“Go on, doctor, I-I'm ready…” you prompt, giving the man a shy smile to mask your nerves.

With a quick breath to strengthen his resolve, the doctor raises his hands, wrapping them both around the plant and lightly squeezing it until a wet substance seeps out through the petals. “A-ah! aAh-” you gasp suddenly.

“I'm sorry—did that hurt?!”

You shake your head, nearly whimpering as you try to assure him, “N-no… just surprised me. Your hands… they're a bit cold…”

“My apologies, they should warm up soon enough. Shall we keep going?” Said like a true doctor. This stranger with kind eyes has been nothing but gentle with you so far, helping out a non-human creature whom he only met a few minutes ago, even if he finds your request a tad strange.

More wetness falls down his hands, pouring from the plant the more he squeezes and twists his hands around the elongated object. He experimentally moves his hands to other areas, and when Baizhu's thumbs rub and press on the tip of the plant, you're unable to hold back a sharp intake of air. Your eyes roll back momentarily, and you chomp down on your lower lip to conceal the noises threatening to escape.

The doctor eyes your pained expressions with worry written all over his face. “It's… fine — I'm fine. The pain… is not that bad… please, don't stop, doctor.”

As you wish, Baizhu milks more and more liquid from the plant, creating a pool of it underneath the stem of the plant—gradually creeping towards his knees and threatening to soak his pants. For the most part, it feels and looks like regular water, but there's a faint sensation of stickiness on his palms, close to the surface of the plant.

While this is supposed to be a medical procedure, Baizhu can't help feeling a bit… embarrassed by the whole situation. This plant of yours—it is a bit phallic. Not to mention how the method used to wring out the liquid is akin to… uh, a specific hand movement performed on phallic objects. The suggestive sounds coming from your mouth don't help that either. Baizhu can't ignore you when you moan out “Faster… faster, doctor- aah~ Keep stroking it like that… it's definitely woRKING-!”

The more Baizhu watches himself squeeze the glistening liquid from your plant, the deeper into a trance he falls — soon enough he's fallen so deep that he shamelessly jerks off the phallic plant until the tip opens up and explodes like a volcano; shooting thick, honey-like ropes all over Baizhu's pretty face.

The substance drips all down his features — clumping in strands of hair, clinging to his glasses, dripping from his nose and chin, and even a little sliding into his open mouth. “A-ah! Y-you… you did it… you made me release it all, doctor~” you comment — your words are the only thing penetrating that fuzzy mind of his right now. “Thank you soooo much~ But, could I trouble you with one more thing?” you lean forward, gently holding the doctor's chin so that he can't turn away from you. “Won't you help me again? It's the only way for me to feel all better.”

“Aah…? I don't… understand…” Baizhu breathes, confused and seemingly in a daze. It's such a precious sight to behold, really.

You reach out and slide a hand up and down the doctor's stomach, teasingly pushing his top up a few times before moving towards the edge of his pants. “You'll help me, won't you? You're such a kind doctor, after all~” you remind him. Baizhu's pants are quickly yanked down, removed the rest of the way by vines that the good doctor never noticed before…

With his sensitive areas laid bare for you to see, Baizhu gasps, frozen in place as your hands feel up his waist and thighs, pushing the latter apart so that you can inspect his body. Sliding two fingers towards his rear, you find that special hole humans have and tease around the rim of it. “Aha! There it is. I'm sorry to ask so much of you, but… I really need this right now.”

While he has no idea what you mean, the doctor senses something amiss within your words. Your fingers attempt to push inside of him, and Baizhu clumsily refuses. “I-I don't think… don't think that I can do that, young man… mm ooh~”

Impatiently, you lift him up and pull him towards you, hovering his hole right above the plant he'd previously milked. A little burst of liquid shoots from the tip, splashing against Baizhu's entrance, which startles him. The consistency of the liquid feels just like the substance it coated his face in earlier; thick, sticky, and warm.

While Baizhu's mind tries to resist, his body is doing quite the opposite, already lowering itself down until the tip of the plant is entering his ass. “A-AAH! Wait–!” he begs. But it's too little too late as your phallic plant penetrates him with ease, thanks to that honey-like fluid. The fleshy appendage pushes a wave of liquid inside his hole, and it creates a wet mess all over his ass, thighs, and the ground below as you begin to fuck him.

“Mm doctor… you feel incredible~ Hehe, look at that—this little guy is having fun too~” Baizhu blushes deeply, shaking his head while you watch his cock bounce every time your plant cock thrusts in.

“N-no… please, harder–! This is weird… aah~ so good~ ” the doctor grits his teeth, biting his lower lip as he grows frustrated by his own mouth betraying him. The cutest whimpers are the only sounds coming from his mouth as you continue your assault on his hole, thrusting your plant deeper and deeper. The amount of liquid gushing out of Baizhu's ass is ungodly now; sticky, squelchy, slick fluids that overflow with every thrust, filling his tummy until it hurts with how full it is.

“You're doing amazing, doctor! That terrible ache is almost gone, I j-just need to– guh!” you suddenly slam your hips into him, laughing as a pang of pleasure wracks your body and causes you to bury your cock in him. Your hands fly to his waist, and you bounce the human while he whimpers some more.

Tears begin to roll down Baizhu's cheeks, staining his glasses with a salty film as you release another round of that thick substance; this time inside the doctor's body. You pant wildly, mere inches from his face while your plant cock spreads open inside of his hole, releasing far too much liquid inside his belly.

[vegan-peppermint]

Frost and Flour

Pairing: Krampus!konigx reader

Cw: size kink, power play, slight cnc, breeding;

Inspired by this post.

Summery: in your village, men would dress as monsters on Christmas stealing women and children and run around the town. Your krampus had other ideas.

Did not proof read, I saw this post yesterday and tried to speed run this fic for it to be ready before Christmas. Might be bad and rushed. Will edit after new years.

Word count: 4k

The snow fell thick and soft, blanketing the jagged peaks of the mountains like a heavy quilt. The air was sharp and bracing, scented faintly with pine and the smoky warmth of wood-burning stoves. This was the village of your childhood Christmases, a place where the world seemed smaller, quieter, and steeped in old traditions. Nestled deep in the heart of the mountains, it felt like a hidden pocket of time where the modern world dared not intrude.

Traditions are the heart of the holidays, the thread that weaves magic into the season and shapes the way people celebrate. In every corner of the world, they bring warmth and wonder: streets lit up with strands of melted honey, the soft glow of advent candles peaking through the frosty windows and the -oh too comforting- aroma of cookies baking in old family kitchens.

But this village had its own unique tradition, one that set it apart from the glittering cities and quaint holiday fairs elsewhere. Here, Christmas wasn't just about warmth and cheer, it carried a shadow, a reverence for the old ways—

both enchanting and a little haunting.

When winter arrived and snow blanketed the wooden rooftops, the young people who had left for the city always hurried back to their childhood homes. So did you. This year, you came earlier than most, arriving in November to help at your family’s bakery. The holiday season brought plenty of special orders, far too much for your grandmother’s old hands to handle alone.

As your hands kneaded the cookie dough behind the counter, your mind was heavy with thoughts and debates. The life you’d built back in the States wasn’t bad—a steady job, a cozy apartment near the city center—but as the warmth of this small, close-knit community enveloped you, a cold stone pressed heavily in your chest. Before sinking any deeper, the bell on the door jingled.

"Hello! Welcome to Frost and Flour, how can I help you today?" you greeted with a cheerful smile.

The man—who, no doubt, had to bow his head to fit through the doorframe—returned the smile, his lips barely visible beneath a fluffy green wool scarf.

"Hallo," his voice came out muffled, the words soft behind the thick fabric. Snowflakes clung to his blonde hair, drifting down like sugar crystals. He shook his head with a swift motion, trying to flick them off, and the gesture reminded you of a puppy entering your shop on a snowy day.

You recognized him, yet you couldn't really match the face to the name. He was the son of the lovely, old woman living on your street, Frau Lieder. Unlike her son, who resembled the mountains that surrounded your village rather than a man, Frau Lieder was as delicate as a breeze, tiny as an ant. Even though she was always quiet and humble, she'd always sit upright and proud when talking about her son, the colonel.

"It's not too late to place an order, no?" He spoke, taking his scarf off revealing his red, frozen cheeks.

"No, not at all. Come in, come in!" You encouraged quickly running to the tap to wash your hands off. "It's really freezing outside! Would you like anything warm to drink? Coffee, or tea?"

He shook his head in refusal, but the way his frozen eyelashes trembled seemed to tell a different story. "How about a coffee? I made too much for myself already," you patted your hands dry on the apron.

The man opened his mouth to protest, but you didn’t give him a chance. Gently guiding him to an empty table, you set down the coffee before him and sat down beside him, placing your own cup next to his to ease the tension. He didn’t seem eager to speak, so you attempted to fill the silence, though your words came out a little more forced than usual.

"You came a long way, didn't you? You look like a snowman," you remarked, trying to break the ice.

He only hummed in response, a soft sound, and you hesitated for a moment before pressing on. "Want sugar in your coffee?"

"It's fine like this, thank you," he said, his voice calm but distant.

An awkward silence settled between you both, thick and uncomfortable. He looked tired so you decided to give up. Not everyone wants to chit-chat, you understood that.

"So, what do you want to order?" You got right to the point.

"Oh, Ja... I need two Stollen," he replied.

"Yeah, we can definitely do that," you said, quickly moving into a list of other things you could offer. You kept talking, listing the flavors and sweet treats, drifting in how they were made and why you made them the best. He seemed taken aback by your sudden burst, but after a while, you saw him relax. He leaned back in his chair, spreading his legs comfortably, and took another sip of his coffee, the steam rising around him like a cloud. His icy blue eyes didn’t leave you as you talked, causing your words to spill faster. They were fixed on you with a piercing intensity, scanning your every expression.

"So I think you should really add the chocolate cookies- we also make them vegan if that's the case-"

"That sounds good," he finally said, agreeing to the order. You jotted it down quickly.

"Great choice, I'll throw in some samples of the others as well!" You grinned, excited for people to try your new recipes.

The cups were filled with coffee still. You lingered as much as you could, writing as to avert his eyes. What's up with people with blue eyes and staring like that? You could still feel his gaze on you as you re-read the same 5 items for the thousandth time.

You shifted in your seat, unsure of what to do with yourself. He seemed to notice, and you caught the glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

"Something wrong?" he asked, his voice laced with a playful tease.

You swallowed, trying to regain your composure. "No, just... not used to quiet customers," you murmured, avoiding his gaze.

He hummed, just as you were accustomed. You stood up quickly, feeling the need to escape the weight of the silence, and found something to occupy yourself behind the counter, fiddling with a few stray utensils. The soft clink of ceramic was the only sound until, after a moment, he spoke. "You going to the Christmas fest tonight?" His voice was low, almost secretive.

"Yeah, so excited," you replied with a laugh, grateful for the change in topic. "It’s the reason I came all this way!"

"Me too," he said solemnly, and something familiar downed on you. That’s when it hit you. "You're the one dressing as Krampus, aren't you?" you exclaimed, a bit too eagerly.

The surprise on his face was brief, quickly replaced by an expression that matched your own newfound curiosity. "I—I remember you," you added, turning to face him, a rush of memories flooding back. "Last year, I brought my younger sister too—you stole her and lifted her up in the air—swinging her around. She loved it so much."

"Ah, seems like I did a shit job—kids are supposed to be afraid of me," he chuckled.

You thought about the scary outfit he'll wear tonight, the furs that will coat his big back doubling him in size. How he'll run around, stalking and shouting- you couldn't help but hope he will be chasing you as well.

"Being punished by Krampus sounds pretty good, to be honest—"

You caught yourself too late, the words already hanging awkwardly between you. Maybe if you played dead, he’d just walk away, pretend nothing happened. You refused to acknowledge what you’d said, refusing to even glance at him. Faking a heart attack or any kind of medical emergency sounded plausible—anything to escape the tension creeping up your spine. The silence stretched on, thick and uncomfortable.

You opened your mouth but no words came out.

A Christmas miracle happened right in that moment as an elderly customer entered the shop.

"Welcome to Frost and Flour! How can I help you?" You beamed without skipping a beat, grateful you didn't have to start choking or throw yourself on the floor.

As you listened to the customer and answered his questions, you felt a heavy set of eyes pressing down on your frame. You didn't look at him again, tried really hard not to. He finished his coffee, got up, and left without saying a word. At the last possible moment, the second between the door hitting the frame, his eyes met yours for one last time. And as the door shut with a loud thud, leaving a sudden silence in its wake, you realized you hadn't asked for his name. You looked down at the empty line left at the bottom of his order and wrote:

Krampus.

The sun set down, the sky turned from blue to orange and back to blue again. You had met with some friends at the small Christmas market, wandering around the little wooden shops that lined the square. Laughter and chatter filled the chilly air as you and your friends picked up festive Christmas toys, nibbled on gingerbread, and sipped warm drinks. The air was alive with the sound of the Christmas choir, their voices drifting through the market and adding a touch of magic to the evening.

As time passed and the night grew darker, the atmosphere shifted. The carolers’ songs faded and adults began to gather around the tables, glasses in hand. It wasn’t long before Krampuses started appearing, stalking through the crowd. The sound of children screaming and running to their parents echoed through the square, while some men pretended to be brave, stepping forward to protect their girlfriends. You couldn’t help but laugh as some of your friends found themselves the prey of a particularly mischievous Krampus, who chased them with exaggerated growls, making the whole scene feel like a playful dance between fear and festivity.

"What's wrong?" Your friend asked through laughter. "Come on, why they long face?"

You suddenly became aware of your thoughtful expression and quickly excused yourself. You had been thinking about your Krampus- both embarrassed and hopeful to see him again. "You better cheer up soon, or the krampus will get you!" Another friend teased.

The air was suddenly filled with the deep, resonant thud of drums, each beat like a heartbeat pounding through the square. A group of men pushed their way through the crowd, their rhythmic movements sharp and precise, their boots striking the cobblestones with deliberate thuds. Their dance was primal and hypnotic, an echo of something ancient and untamed. Behind them, two towering Krampuses loomed, their enormous cowbells clanging with a deafening ring that sent shivers through the crowd. Draped in heavy, fur-lined cloaks that swayed with each step, their grotesque masks twisted into demonic faces that seemed to leer at anyone who dared to meet their gaze. The crowd recoiled instinctively, a ripple of nervous laughter and gasps breaking the tension as the Krampuses stalked forward, commanding both fear and awe.

The main drummer, the same one who had parted the crowd in two, struck his drum with a horrendous bang that swallowed all other noise. In unison, the crowd fell silent, their collective breath caught in their chests. Yet, despite the stillness, a distant rhythm lingered in the air—a pulsing thrum that echoed: the rapid, heavy pounding of every heart present.

Thud!

The crowed took a step back in anticipation as the Krampuses looked around hungrily.

Thud! Thud!

The beats served as a count down, a warning and threat before the krampuses will be set free. You were too mesmerized by the show that you haven't realized you were being watched.

Thud! Thud! THUD!

That's when you noticed the taller monster staying still, focusing on you. Shivers creeped unbidden down your spine, cold and sharp, leaving goosebumps as they passed. Your stomach plummeted, a hollow, twisting ache of dread settling deep within you, even before your gaze met his. You didn’t need to see his eyes to recognize it was him—undeniably, inescapably him.

The rhythmic pounding of the drums grew faster, more frantic, but the meaning escaped you, lost in the haze of your thoughts. Blurred figures rushed past, their panicked shouts blending into something you barely registered. Shoulders slammed into you, hands shoved, voices screamed, everything—the chaos, the fear, the blinding motion—blurred and faded, except for that mask. That awful, looming mask. Its hollow gaze pinned you in place, your focus narrowing until it was the only thing in the world that mattered.

Then, like the sharp crack of a pin dropping onto glass, the veil lifted. The muffled roars of the crowd became deafening, the banging and fireworks thundered in your ears, and the swell of scared people pressed against you, pulling you back into reality.

Run.

The word tore through your mind, an instinct louder than the drums, louder than the crazy fantasies you had. Run. You have to run.

The adrenaline hit you in full force, blood pumping hot through your veins as your feet pounded against the uneven ground. The small, twisted streets were making it harder for you, but you didn’t dare look back—you didn’t need to. You knew he was there. You could feel it, like a cold breath on the back of your neck.

You knew in the moment you broke eye contact, the second your body shifted to flee, he was already moving. His feet swept through the mud, closing the distance with the precision of a predator. He wasn’t chasing—you realized, with a spike of fear—he was hunting.

Exhaustion hit you hard, your breath coming in ragged gasps as your legs felt like lead, slowing to a near halt. Your body begged for rest, and you made the mistake of glancing over your shoulder. The street was empty—silent. No sign of him, nothing but the faint echo of your own heavy breathing. As you huffed in relief, grateful for the brief moment of peace, a hand clamped down on your waist, and another shot up to cover your mouth, muffling the scream you let out instinctively.

It all happened so fast, the way he grabbed you and spun you on his shoulder as if you weighted nothing. He ran away with you through the crowds, some people cheered and others ran away in fear of being the next victim. He ran past the crowds, past the houses and the gardens. The snow was getting higher and the lights were getting dimmer as the two of you strayed further from the towns fest.

No matter how much you screamed or how many questions you'd ask, he'd remain silent, eyes straight ahead not minding you at all.

"Please, stop! Put me down!" you begged for what felt like the hundredth time.

This time, he paused. With a grunt, he hurled you onto the snow-covered ground, your body colliding with the icy surface.

"You make so much noise," he growled, his voice low and rough. "I wonder how much louder you can get."

You stumbled onto your feet but the slippery ground betrayed you as you slipped again. Above you, the massive figure loomed, his imposing horns casting jagged shadows across the snow.

Your eyes were getting watery and your lip began to tremble. You were scared- your heart thumping and body trembling, that was fear. But the excitement that grew in your stomach and the urge to rub your legs against each other were something else entirely.

"Please," you whispered as a last plea, curling up as to make yourself as small as possible.

"Don't play dumb with me, little one. You deserve to be punished, you'll take what I'll give you and say thank you," he said.

Your eyes moved frantically from his mask to his muddy boots, then up his legs to the hard erection visible through his black pants before meeting the black holes where eyes were supposed to be.

"Please," you cried out doe eyed not sure what you were begging for.

The beast fell to his knees with a heavy sound making you flinch. You tried to push yourself further, but his strong hand grabbed at your ankle harshly. He dragged you by the foot, your skirt rising up as your ass slided on the cold snow. He let go of your leg, hand moving to your inner knee, slowly dragging his nails up your thigh.

"So sensitive," he coes when your skin reacts so eagerly to his touch. You instinctively grabbed at his hand which hovered above your panties. He paused his movement, seemingly amused at your attempt. "Go on," he leaned closer, covering your body with his own, the mask mere inches from your face. "Fight back," he breathed out a threat. "Try and fight me off, little lamb."

His hand slapped your clothed pussy, the weak attempt at a stopping him completly ignored. You let out a loud moan at the sudden feeling of pain.

His calloused hand started rubbing up and down the thin fabric. The daunting realization of how wet being hunted down like pray made you hit you as the panties became drenched.

"Aren't you ashamed?" He teased, fiddling with the zipper of his pants, tugging them just enough to free his large cock. "Being violated gets you this wet, Schatz?"

You whimper and squirm trying to get away from his touch, thriwing your hands at him- scratching and grabbing at his horns and neck.

Pathetic. That’s the only word for it. You know you’re not trying to escape or fight back. No, you’re just edging him on, hoping he'll snap and take out all his built up anger on you.

He easily grabs your wrists in one rapid motion. No matter how much you'd try, pulling with your whole body and then some, his grip would effortlessly stay the same.

"I'm going to fuck you," he announced pinning your hands above your head with one hand. "You will cry and scream and plead- and you will swallow every inch I give you."

He pulled your panties to the side placing his angry tip at the entrance. In the dead of night, under the midnight sky the lewd, wet sound of his dick spreading your juices was so loud.

No waiting, he pushed himself inside your throbbing cunt splitting you open.

"F-Fuck," you plead. "T-Too big, 's too big!" Your gummy walls stretch around his girth, causing your to choke in pain. The resistance slowly fades away as your cunt leaks more with every shallow thrust as he fills you up in ways you've never thought were possible.

"You can take it," he hissed, allowing you to adjust to his size. His cock was throbbing inside of you, pulsating eagerly. "You feel that? Feel what you do to me? I'm so hard for you, Schatz. Don't you wanna make me feel good?"

"Agh~," you cry out as you feel more of his size slipping inside your wet cunt. He let's go of his tight grip bringing one of your hands down to your stomach. His hand on top of yours as he's bullying his cock inside you. You feel him moving, the buldge in your stomach rising and lowering in sync with his thrusts. He growled loudly as you spammed around his dick so soon, moaning loudly and rolling your eyes in the back of your head, finally allowing him complete access as you cum on his fat cock.

"You're the tightest cunt I've fucked in a long time," he said bringing his hands on your hips angling you slightly better. His balls were hanging on your ass and his tip was pushing twords your womb.

If you could think straight, you'd be embarrassed of cumming just from being filled, of the moans and gasps you made with every inch he gave you. But the warmth of the village is distant and the ground behind your back is freezing, you need him- his warmth- to keep the cold from swallowing you whole.

Through teary eyes, you look at him. The faint light spilling from the village clings to his mask and coat, tracing his silhouette in an otherworldly glow, as if he were carved from shadow and firelight. He is no longer just a man draped in beast's clothes;

And yet, his gaze lingers on you, heavy and unreadable, somewhere between a silent threat or solemn apology.

It started slowly, dragging his member out then pushing it back in with slightly more forced than before. Your whole body was pressed deeper into the ground, head bobbling to his increasing rhythm.

One if his hands reached up to your chest, cupping one of your breast through the cotton material of your dress, the other digging into the side of your hip. He found your hardend nipple with ease, rubbing it between his fingers. He'd pinch and drag them only to see them bounce more viciously.

"Shush," he'd scold through heavy breaths. "If you keep moaning like that people will hear you. They'll see you spread wide getting your pussy stuffed, is that what you want?"

When his words were only getting you more riled up, he'd let go of your hips moving it to your loud mouth. He fell onto of you, his heavy body crushing your smaller frame, one hand desperately pulling at your tits while the other pressing hard on your mouth. He pounded into you like a man starved, abusing your needy hole.

You looked so pretty right now, your Krampus thought behind his mask. Your face was flushed, your eyelashes sticking together from tears. Strands of hair, damp from the snow melting behind you, clung to your face, yet your eyes were hazed with pleasure. He got you like this, so pathetic and cock drunk. You tried to say something but your words were muffled.

"Shut up, just a little- a little longer longer-," he sounded desperate, a change in his steady demeanor. "You'll take all I give you, every last drop of cum- Fuck- I'll pump you full of cum, you horny bitch," he groand against your neck, thrusting into you deeper than before.

He fucked you through his orgasm, cock twitching and slaming hot cum inside your cunt, a white ring foaming where your body met.

He fucked you through your orgasm, his dick barelling into you making sure you won't spill a drop of this gift he had given you.

Your legs were shaking around him, hands dirty and tired from clawing at the ground. His chest rumbled against your own.

After he pulled out, he shoved his fingers in its place- pushing his cum deep into you. You'd lick them clean afterwards, after he pulled you back on your feet. Your eyes tried to find his behind the devil mask, as his fingers explored your mouth.

You didn't.

The night didn’t feel as cold as before, the stars no longer just wishes in the sky, but silent witnesses to everything that had unfolded. You didn’t dare move, or speak—not before he would at least. You tensed, waiting for words that never came, as he grabbed you with an eerie calm, lifting you once more, just as he had in the beginning

[talesof-old]

handle it | a.s., h.l.r., g.c.

pairing(s): poly!batboys x fem!eader

warning(s): 18+, smut, couples arguing, teasing, piv sex, handjobs (f receiving), oral (m receiving), reader has a vagina and is referred to by her/she, reader is called pretty girl, men being annoying and protective/possessive, if you squint there’s wing play, i did not proofread or edit because for some reason this put me in a slump, i think that’s all

word count: 1.7k

a/n: sorry this took me so long i was strugglinggg so it does end kind of abruptly

masterlist

poly!batboys + smut, angst + happy ending

“For the last time, you will not tell me I can’t go.”

Azriel barked a hoarse, humorless laugh, his eyes cold as he looked down at you. Gone were the days of training at Windhaven, children playing war as the world fell apart. No, now Rhys was High Lord, and you were a long way from the mountains you once called home.

“I’m in charge of this mission. What I say goes. And you are not going.”

Throwing your arms up in exasperation, you catch a glimpse of Cassian’s amused expression and Rhysand’s impassive face. They knew better than to get between the two of you. Azriel’s barely contained rage that settled just beneath his skin could burn hot at any given moment, and you were a formidable opponent that even your battle seasoned superiors knew better than to rile.

“You’re staying here.”

You whirled around, face nearly coming into contact with Azriel’s hard chest. Your wings flared.

“Rhys has the final say. I’m going.”

Violet eyes flickered between the two of you, one side of his lips quirking up in a smirk as Rhys shrugged. Anger flared in your chest. There was no reason for him not to side with you. You’d proven yourself over and over again, earned your place just as much as they had. It wasn’t fair.

“Rhys, I swear on the Mother-“ Rhys shook his head, silencing Azriel as he moved. Cassian followed after him, both quick to leave you two alone.

“Figure this out between you. We’re not getting involved.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched as the door shut behind them; the silence that followed was deafening. His shadows darted out and away from him, only to return to curl around his body like they couldn’t decide whether to comfort you or their master. It would’ve been comical, really, if Azriel’s sharp eyes weren’t burning holes into your forehead. You fought the urge to roll your eyes.

“I’ll see you at dinner.” Azriel didn’t say a word as you walked out the room.

Dinner was not a pleasant affair. Mor picked up on the tension between the shadowsinger and you with a simple glance, and it seemed to only agitate you further. Territorial fae bastards, the lot of them.

“We still set for that shopping trip on Saturday?” Mor’s honey voice filled your ears and you allowed yourself to smile. At the end of the table, Azriel sat stiff as a board, barely touching the food on his plate.

“Of course, I still need something for Dawn’s ball.”

She nodded, sipping her wine as she contemplated. You raised a brow. There was something mischievous in her eyes as she spoke next.

“I hear Caius was asking after you.” Shadows exploded across the room, darting out to weave through your hair and urge you towards their source. You narrowed your eyes at Mor who simply threw her head back and laughed. Amren scoffed over her glass.

“Az.” At Rhys’ firm tone, the shadows were reeled back in, and light filled the room once more.

“We’re leaving. I’ll keep you both updated.” A warm hand clasped yours and then all of a sudden you were in Rhys’ bedroom, perched on the edge of his bed. You turned to the partner in question.

What the fuck?

Rhys chuckled in your mind.

I thought you two would’ve sorted this out.

You rolled your eyes at that, turning to flop onto the bed, wings draped over your body. Rhys rested a hand on your lower back, shivers crawling up your spine as he massaged your tailbone.

He’s a possessive prick.

Rhys laughed out loud this time, trailing his hand over your backside. You preened under his touch, twisting to stretch out like a cat and smiling over at him softly. A grunt sounded from behind you. Rhys glanced over, sending an image to you.

Cassian and Azriel (the former having already removed half of his clothes), lip locked and tugging hard at each other’s bodies. Heat pooled in between your thighs and you turned to raise a brow at your companion. He smirked. In a blink, he was hovering over your body, chest pressed against your left side. You tilted your head upwards, pressing your lips against his. He moved slowly, pressing you down as he swiped a tongue over your lips. Rhys’ palm moved to cup your arse, rubbing your clothed cunt against the bulge in his pants. You sighed as you melted into his touch.

A broken moan drew you away from your High Lord.

You turned your head, pupils blown wide with lust as Cassian manhandled Azriel, tugging at his short hair and biting the exposed skin of his neck. Rhys laid back, hauling you up to rest on top of him. He helped you straddle him.

Someone hit the wall behind you, choking on a groan. You grinned as Rhys pulled you into him, licking a stripe up your throat.

“You’re both fully capable of resolving your issues, hm? Isn’t that what you said the last time?” You let out a long suffering sigh and gripped Rhysand’s hair.

“Don’t be a dick.”

He trailed light fingers up your sides, the sensation dulled by the fabrics covering your skin. Teasing touches turned rough as you rolled your hips. You smiled sweetly.

Behind you, the bed dipped as your two lovers joined you.

Cassian’s rough hands gripped your hips, careful of the wings you now arched high. Azriel settled against the pillows next to Rhysand, watching you with half-lidded, dark eyes. You maintained eye contact with the shadowsinger, grabbing Cassian’s hand and slipping it into your loose fitted pants. He cupped your mound, urging you to grind against his palm. You did so, head falling back as the roughness of his skin dragged against your lips and clit. He let you use him, your chest heaving as you rode yourself to climax. Your legs shook, upheld only by Rhys’ hands.

Rhysand took to leaning forward and nipping at the skin of your sensitive neck. He grinned as you keened, cunt clenching onto nothing as you tumbled over the edge. You fell against Cassian as your blood rushed through your ears. He chuckled, ignoring the way you jolted when your wings made contact with his frame.

Your body trembled following your orgasm, blissfully warm but not entirely relaxed. Azriel grunted as Rhys cupped his bulge. Your eyes flashed to his, annoyance still eating at your gut.

“Come on, pretty girl. Don’t be like that.” Cassian mouthed at the juncture of your neck and shoulders, sucking hard. You moaned softly, writhing against him as he massaged your breasts.

“Lovely, isn’t she?” Rhysand’s low voice sounded from beside Azriel. He huffed, abdomen muscles tense as the High Lord slipped a hand into his trousers. He pumped his cock, running a gentle hand over his slit and laughing when he hissed.

“You managed to piss her off pretty bad. Wonder what you’ll have to do to make it up.” Heat rushed to Azriel’s face. You watched with rapt attention, eyelashes fluttering as Cassian stripped you of your top to expose your breasts. You shivered at the sudden chill.

“Will she let you touch her?”

Azriel clenched his hands into fists, all but tucking them underneath his thighs. You giggled. Looks like he wanted to be tested tonight.

“Rhys.” You purred.

He whipped his head towards you at the sound of your voice, his name dripping with lust. You wriggled your ass against Cassian’s dick and tugged on Rhysand’s shirt.

He was on you in an instant, mouth hot against yours as Cassian pulled down your trousers and underwear. He was quick to line himself up your cunt and slowly sink in, leaning forward to press kisses to your upper back as you moaned. Rhys swallowed the sounds all too willingly.

As Cassian bottomed out, Rhys tugged down his own pants, situating himself right by your mouth. You lowered yourself onto your elbows, a soft whine leaving you as the angle changed how deep Cassian was within you. Rhysand grabbed a handful of your hair and guided your mouth to his cock. He grunted when your lips wrapped around the reddening skin.

Cassian pulled half-way out of you, giving an experimental thrust. Your eyes fluttered shut. He was slow with it, setting a lazy pace to keep you from climaxing too soon. You shivered as one of his hands grazed the inner part of your wings. Molten heat burned between your hips.

With a practiced tongue and a few well timed sucks, Rhys was pulsing in your mouth, balls drawn tight. His head was thrown back, moans tumbling from his lips in a way that would’ve had you grinning. Cassian kept his sensual pace.

You hollowed out your cheeks, gagging as Rhysand’s cock hit the back of your throat. He choked on a moan, halfway through cooing at the tears on your cheeks when his orgasm tore through him. He shook; beside him, Azriel trembled with need.

You swallowed his cum greedily, humming. Rhys jerked. You pulled off of him with a pop, grinning like a madman.

“Wicked thing.”

You shrugged, arching your back to meet Cassian’s thrusts. One of his large hands splayed across the bottom of your curved spine, the other coming around your waist to toy with your clit. You spasmed against him.

A low chuckle sounded through the room.

“Be careful tonight, we’ve all got a mission tomorrow.” Even in the midst of your pleasure, your head jerked towards Azriel. He wore an expression half resigned, half lustful. You reached for him with one hand, balancing on your right, fingers trembling. A moment ticked by. He moved, graceful as a panther, and tugged you to him. Cassian groaned as you involuntarily clenched around him. He pulled out of you, letting you splay across the shadowsinger’s front.

“You’re really giving in?”

Azriel’s sigh was answer enough, but he responded with a simple, “Yes.”

You smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to his chin. The ache between your thighs was desperate for attention, however, so you moved to straddle his hips.

Much to the displeasure of your two other lovers, the words “You’re mine for the rest of the night,” were what left your mouth. Azriel leaned back.

“Show me you can handle it.”

+++

[love44lew]

kinktober day one: in heat

彡driver max verstappen x fem!reader

彡genre smut (with a little plot), sub!reader, softdom!max, a little dumbification, petnames, unprotected, dirty talk, multiple rounds, reader gets put to sleep #melatonindck

彡summary you wake up from a nap uneasy

彡notes october is my favorite month of the year!! i should’ve started the first but whatever 🙄🙄

彡warning sexual content

———👻————-🦈-————👻———-

you plopped down on the couch next to max. you had just woken up from a nap with and ache in your lower stomach and in between your legs, you thought it was just your period but that had already passed a week ago. you didnt know what was wrong with you. 

your panties were soaked and your palms were clammy. probably had a wet dream, but now that wet dream has effected your real life and you need help. you lie in a fetal position with your hands pressing your lower stomach. max placed his phone down and ran his baby soft hands down your back, moving his thigh a little so your head can rest on it. “whats wrong liefde?” his brows furrowed as his face showed genuine concern. you just groaned in response, your nose nuzzling into his thigh with your eyes shut. “baby” he tucked some hair back from your face.

your eyes fluttered open as your gaze locked on him. your puplils dilating a little wider upon seeing his face. “my pretty girl, whats wrong with you? are you sick?” he placed the back of his hand on your forehead. you were a little warm, but its naturally cold in the house so you were all wrapped up in your blankets. “mm-mh” you shook your head. “cramps?” you shook your head again. “i cant help you if you dont use your words” he brushed a finger over your eyelid as his hand cupped the side if your face. “t-touch me, please” your legs slightly shivering as the words managed to collect into anything but a slur. “ima need you to be more specific, i’m touching you right now” he lifted an eyebrow and you whined a little in frustration with his slight naiveness.

“touch my body while you fuck me. fuck me please, it hurts” your breath hitched and your voice cracked as you sat up. without a word max began stripping off his clothes. you quickly threw aside your shirt which was the only thing you had on. you turned around your knees dug into the soft cushions and your back arched as you waited dripping for him. max slapped his heavy cock on your cunt, your legs shaking a little. “so fucking wet for me” he rubbed his shaft between your folds before positioning himself aligned with your dripping cunt.

his cock sunk into you, air released making a funny sound. max giggled, “pussy talking to me, huh?” his hand landed hard on your rear mounds. the sting was so sweet your hips thrusted back onto him.

he continued thrusting into you as your bodies moved in synch with each other. he reached his hand over to grab your wrists, holding them behind you as his other hand lay on your lower back. his cock dug deeper than before, your cunt making wet noises as your slick coated his shaft. “mm doll, you’re taking me so well” his voice rung sweetly in your ears. you hear nothing but the sounds of your own muffled moans him pounding into your soaking hole.

you felt like you could go on for hours without being completely satisfied, which is exactly what happened. you both came in 5 different positions and your cunt still wanted more, your legs were so tired and you could barely collect words together or even form a thought. the pressure had relieved a bit but his cock felt sooo soo good and you took him so well he couldn’t get enough of your cunt either.

“my dick might fall off if we keep this up” your mouth tugged into a weak smile at his remark.

“you like it when i make you cum back to back though..” he sat up and tapped his thigh signaling that you get on. you straddled him as you slowly sunk down onto his still very prominent arousal, using his shoulders as leverage. you rested your temple on his shoulder and felt yourself start to slip away. max pushed his shoulder forward forcing your head up as your tired eyes stared into his.

“stay awake, just a little longer.” your head tipped to the side as you sigh. “here, hold my hand” he whispers, taking your hand in his as your fingers intertwine.

his other hand grips on your hip, squeezing until it feels like its bruising—like you didn’t already enough of those. you gripped your hand on his shoulder and tried to lift yourself but you came crashing down as soon as you went up. you whined as your head fell onto his shoulder.

“i know baby, i know.” he rubs circles on your hip with his thumb. max adjusts himself causing you to let out an involuntary whimper.

he lets go of your hand and slides both of them to under your bum to hold you up to slowly let you back down and then up again. you feel his strong arms and chest flex with every movement. he groans when you rock your hips for him to go faster. his hips buck up into you, you yelp at the sudden force.

“sorry, sorry” max kisses your cheek along with a trail of apologies.

“dont s-stop” you whine out and he obliged, bucking his hips up again and again. he fucks you so good you could feel another orgasm approaching with every time he hit the spots you didn’t know existed but stung oh so good. “oh fuck-“ you felt another thick knot welling up in your core. you hugged him closer your moans and whines muffled into his shoulder.

your walls spasmed around him as your legs began to quiver.

“are you close, mijn liefje?” he asked panting a little. you just nodded, too drunk on bliss as his shaft continues to bruise your cunt.

“fuck—me too” his cock twitches inside your gummy walls.

“you want me to fill this pretty pussy again? hm?” his voice quivered a little. you nodded once again.

his pace picked up as his own climax came near. max’s tone went up a little higher than before, his groans and moans shifting into panting and a couple whimpers here and there.

“fuck fuck fuuuhh~ fuckfuckfucshitkfuck” as he pumped pearly ropes into your cunt, your own climax followed shortly behind. you now using his arms as support to grind your clit down onto his base. waves of pleasure washed over you as your body shivered and shook. your body had given out, passing out in his arms, with his cock still buried deep in your walls.

“liefde?” max called to you between pants, none to his avail, no response. a smile creeped on his face,

“i put my baby to sleep, hm?” he said to himself quietly as he felt all your muscles relax, your body melting impossibly further onto his. with his soft, plump lips, he landed soft kisses on your shoulder and neck, rubbing circles up and down your back.

[authorhjk1]

Heaven on earth

(Minnie X Miyeon X Male Reader)

The stage lights dimm to a roar of applause, the crowd chanting their names like a battle cry. Minnie takes one last bow alongside her groupmates, before retreating backstage. The adrenaline coursing through her veins makes her legs feel shaky, but the energy of the fans carries her forward.

“That was... insane."

Miyeon pants, her arm slung over Minnie’s shoulder as they stumble towards the dressing room.

“Best crowd yet."

Minnie agrees, clutching her water bottle like a lifeline. Her voice is hoarse, her chest heaving from the effort of their two-hour performance.

Soyeon, ever the composed leader, walks beside them with effortless grace. Not a strand of her hair is out of place, her makeup still flawless despite the intensity of the concert.

“You two look like you’ve been hit by a truck."

She teases, flashing them a smirk.

“Feel like it too."

Miyeon groans, collapsing onto the couch as soon as they reach the dressing room. Minnie follows, slumping into the cushions beside her.

“How do you do it?”

Minnie asks Soyeon, who has already begun touching up her lipstick at the vanity.

“You’re like a robot or something.”

“Discipline."

Soyeon replies, capping her lipstick with a flourish.

“And knowing how to recover properly.”

“Recovery?”

Miyeon rolls her neck.

“If you’ve got some secret, now’s the time to share it. My entire body feels like it’s falling apart.”

Soyeon turns to them with a knowing smile.

“I might have just the thing.”

She reaches into her designer handbag and pulls out a small, elegant black-and-gold card. She tosses it onto the coffee table, where it lands with an air of finality.

“What’s this?”

Minnie asks, picking up the card. The text was embossed in gold, reading:

"Heaven on earth."

Beneath it is a residential address in one of Seoul’s wealthiest neighborhoods.

“A massage parlor?”

Miyeon asks, sitting up and squinting at the card.

“Not just any massage parlor."

Soyeon says, returning to her seat with a graceful ease. “It’s exclusive. Appointment-only. The kind of place you’d never find unless someone like me pointed you in the right direction.”

“And you’ve been?”

Minnie flips the card over. It is blank on the back.

“A few times."

Soyeon replies with a sly smile.

"Trust me, it’s worth it. They’ll have you feeling like new.”

“Sounds expensive."

Miyeon says, though the intrigue in her voice was clear.

“It is.”

Soyeon stands up and grabs her bag.

“But you get what you pay for. Oh, and if you decide to go, ask for Mr. Shin.”

“Who’s Mr. Shin?"

Minnie looks up at her.

“The best therapist there."

Soyeon says, her smile turning mysterious.

"You’ll see.”

The next afternoon, Minnie and Miyeon find themselves driving through a quiet street in Cheongdam-dong, a neighborhood known for its old-money charm. Unlike the flashy high-rises of central Seoul, this area has an understated elegance. The houses are large, each tucked behind manicured hedges or stone walls, their gates hinting at secrets rather than wealth.

“This can’t be right. It looks like someone's house."

Minnie murmurs as the car pulls up to an unassuming white stucco house. Miyeon checks the address on the card again.

"But it’s the right place.”

The gate opens automatically, revealing a beautifully landscaped front yard. A small pond glimmers in the afternoon sunlight, its surface dotted with lily pads. Wisteria climbs the side of the house, its purple blossoms trailing like draped silk.

“This is way too fancy for a massage parlor."

Minnie steps out of the car, followed closely by Miyeon.

A woman in her thirties greets them at the door. Dressed in a tailored black suit, she exudes a calm professionalism that seemed incongruous with the cozy facade of the house.

“Welcome to Heaven on Earth."

She gives the two of them a polite bow.

“You must be Miss Miyeon and Miss Minnie. Please, come in.”

The interior of the house is just as luxurious as the exterior, though it feels more like a curated gallery than a home. The floors are polished dark wood, the walls painted in soft neutrals accented with minimalist art pieces. A chandelier made of cascading glass droplets hangs in the entryway, casting soft rainbows on the walls.

“This way."

The woman leads them down a hallway to a spacious lounge.

The room is an embodiment of indulgence. A sunken jacuzzi bubbles softly in the center, steam curling lazily into the air. To the left, an L-shaped sectional sofa surrounds a sleek glass coffee table, while to the right, three armchairs are arranged around a low, polished wooden table. In another corner, a mahogany bar holds crystal decanters filled with amber liquid.

“This is... not what I expected."

Miyeon's voice is tinged with both awe and confusion.

“Where’s the massage table?”

“The setting is designed for your comfort. Please take a moment to fill out these forms while we prepare for your session.”

She hands them clipboards with thick, gold-edged forms. Minnie and Miyeon exchange a glance before sitting down in the armchairs to fill them out.

The first page of the form is standard enough. Name, age, and medical conditions. But as they turn the page, the questions become stranger.

“‘Do you prefer a calming or commanding energy?’”

Minnie reads aloud, her brow furrowing.

"What does that even mean?”

Miyeon glances at her form.

"‘How important is discretion in your experience?’ That’s... oddly specific.”

“It gets weirder."

Minnie says, pointing to a section labeled Personal Comfort Preferences.

"Physical boundaries: open to touch, selective, or exclusive?’ This doesn’t feel like a normal massage parlor.”

Miyeon hesitates, then shrugs.

“Maybe it’s just rich people being extra. You know how Soyeon is about her fancy things.”

They continue filling out the form, though the questions make Minnie feel increasingly uneasy. The final page asks if they’d like to request a specific therapist.

“Soyeon said to ask for Mr. Shin."

Miyeon writes his name in the blank field.

Minnie follows suit, though a part of her wonders what exactly they are signing up for.

After a while, the receptionist returns to collect the forms, her smile never faltering.

“Thank you. Please make yourselves comfortable. Mr. Shin will join you shortly.”

The lounge grows quiet after the receptionist leaves. Miyeon pours herself a drink from one of the decanters, swirling the amber liquid in a crystal glass before taking a sip.

“This is the fanciest waiting room I’ve ever seen."

She settles onto the sectional sofa.

“Soyeon was right about it being exclusive.”

“It’s more than fancy."

Minnie says, pacing the room.

“It’s weird. There’s no massage table, but there’s a jacuzzi, a bar, and enough furniture to host a party. Doesn’t this feel... off?”

Miyeon hesitates, glancing around the room.

"A little, maybe. But if Soyeon comes here all the time, it can’t be that bad.”

Minnie opens her mouth to reply, but the door opens before she could speak. A tall man steps inside, and the atmosphere seems to shift.

His clean, dark suit seems to fit him perfectly. Miyeon notices his broad shoulders. His warm, but piercing eyes. His welcoming, but professional smile.

“Miss Miyeon. Miss Minnie."

He bows slightly.

“I’m Mr. Shin. Welcome to Heaven on Earth.”

Minnie and Miyeon exchange a glance, suddenly unsure of what exactly they've signed up for.

Mr. Shin’s presence fills the room, calm yet imposing. He stands by the door for a moment, his dark eyes seem to look them up and down for just a second. His polite smile widens just enough to feel both professional and unnerving.

“Please, make yourselves comfortable. We’ll begin shortly.”

You gesture towards the seating arrangements.

Minnie and Miyeon hesitate before moving to the L-shaped sectional. The rich cream sofa feels almost too soft, as though it might swallow them whole. Minnie shifts uncomfortably, her senses tingling as you walk towards the bar.

“Would you like a drink to help you relax?”

Your question is directed at Minnie, after seeing that Miyeon has already helped herself. You pour a measure of amber liquid into a crystal glass without waiting for a reply, then place it on the coffee table in front of them. The way your hands move - controlled, deliberate - makes Minnie's stomach tighten.

Miyeon reaches for her own glass, but Minnie stops her with a light touch on her wrist.

“Maybe we should wait.”

Minnie says, her voice low. Something about the situation feels too orchestrated, too precise.

She sees you raising an eyebrow, your expression unreadable.

“Of course."

You say, stepping back.

"The choice is always yours.”

Minnie’s pulse quickens. The words seem innocuous, but there was an undertone to them that she can't quite place.

Your posture remains impeccable as you take a seat in one of the armchairs.

“I’ll need to review your preferences before we begin."

You pull out a tablet from a discreet drawer in the coffee table. Tapping the screen, your eyes scan whatever notes have been transcribed from their forms.

“You mentioned physical tension and overall fatigue."

Your gaze flicking briefly to Miyeon.

"Is there anything else I should know about what you’re hoping to achieve today?”

Miyeon blinks, caught off guard by the directness of the question.

“Uh, just… to feel more relaxed, I guess.”

“Relaxation is our specialty."

You turn towards the other woman.

“And you, Miss Minnie? Any additional concerns?”

Minnie hesitates, her instincts screaming that something isn’t right. But she can't deny the lingering ache in her body from the grueling schedule they've been under.

“No, just the same. Relaxation.”

“Perfect. I-"

You get interrupted by the door being opened. Ms. Lee, the receptionist, bows politely in the women's direction.

"I apologize."

She looks at you.

"I have one of your regulars on the line."

You smile, standing up in one fluid motion.

"Please excuse for a minute."

Miyeon nods in understanding.

When the door clicks shut behind you, Miyeon lets out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

“Okay, is it just me, or is this the strangest massage parlor in existence?”

Minnie nods, leaning forward to whisper.

“Did you see that form he was looking at? Why does a massage therapist need that much detail about ‘intimate boundaries’?”

“Maybe it’s like a medical thing. You know, to avoid lawsuits or something.”

She doesn't sound very convincing.

“Maybe."

Minnie mutters, though the uneasy feeling in her stomach refuses to go away.

A mischievous smile plays around your lips when you reach for the door. The one who just called was Soyeon. She only confirmed what you already expected. The two women don't know what kind of place this is. It's always fun having someone new, who slowly figures it out over time. The older woman asked you to properly take care of them. The way you usually take care of her. Which means you'll need to move them to the room next door eventually.

You step back inside the lounge, two large white towels hanging off your arm. After neatly placing them on the sofa, you keep standing.

“Before we proceed, I’d like you both to relax fully. The body cannot release tension unless the mind is at ease.”

You gesture toward the jacuzzi, its bubbling water glinting like liquid gold under the low lighting.

“You’re welcome to use the jacuzzi to begin loosening your muscles.”

Minnie and Miyeon exchanged a glance. The suggestion seems innocuous enough, but there is something in your tone that makes Minnie’s skin prickle.

“I think we’re fine here."

She says quickly, crossing her legs and sinking deeper into the sofa. The plush cushions envelops her, but she feels no comfort.

Miyeon, however, seems more willing to indulge. “It does look tempting."

She admits, though she makes no move to stand. “But maybe later.”

You nod, your expression neutral. How long is it gonna take until they figure it out? Should you be more straightforward?

“As you wish. Comfort is always a priority at Heaven on Earth.”

Miyeon picks up her glass, taking a cautious sip. She tries to hide her own complex thoughts. Everything looks so professional. And yet it feels odd, almost mysterious. The lack of massage tables, a jacuzzi, the fact you're wearing an expensive looking suit and not a uniform or something. It all has her mind racing. And yet, she doesn't feel threatened or scared. After all, Soyeon seems to be here often.

Minnie hesitates before taking her own glass, her eyes scanning the room for anything that might hint at what this place really is. The furniture, the lighting, the scent of sandalwood and jasmine - it all feels carefully curated, but for what purpose?

As they sit in silence, you lower yourself into one of the armchairs across from them, your posture impeccable. You rest your hands on the armrests, your fingers tapping lightly as though you are gauging their reactions.

“This space,"

You begin, gesturing subtly to the room,

“is designed to help you shed the weight of external pressures. It is a sanctuary for those who give so much of themselves to the world.”

Your words are soothing, almost hypnotic, but Minnie’s unease only deepens. She glances at the bar, at the jacuzzi, at the way the chaise lounge seems positioned as if it is waiting for something - or someone.

She finally breaks the tension.

“So, uh, how exactly does this work? I mean, it’s not like any massage place I’ve ever been to.”

“We believe in offering more than just physical relief. Our approach addresses the whole self - body, mind, and energy.”

Miyeon leans forward, intrigued despite herself.

"And what does that mean, exactly?”

“It means we tailor every experience to the individual. To their needs, their desires. No two sessions are the same.”

Minnie’s grip tightens around her glass. The way you said desires sends a shiver down her spine, though she can't explain why. She exchanges a glance with Miyeon, who looks intrigued but wary. “C-Can you explain that further?”

Minnie asks, her voice tinged with skepticism.

“Everything here is tailored to help you rediscover yourselves. As performers, you expend so much of your energy giving to others. This space is designed for you to receive.”

The way you said receive makes Minnie’s stomach tighten. She shifts in her seat, her unease mixing with a strange curiosity. Miyeon, meanwhile, seems more relaxed, her posture softening as you continue.

“To begin, I’d like to help you release the tension you’re holding."

Leaning forward, your gaze settles on Miyeon first.

“May I?”

Miyeon hesitates, glancing at Minnie before nodding.

“I... guess?”

You move with deliberate grace, taking Miyeon’s hand in yours. Your touch is warm but firm, your thumb pressing lightly into her palm.

“Tension often begins here. The hands carry the weight of everything we hold onto.”

Miyeon’s breath hitches slightly as you begin to massage her hand, your fingers working expertly over the delicate bones and tendons. She closes her eyes, leaning back against the sofa.

"Wow. That’s... really good.”

Minnie watches, her wariness deepening even as she feels a twinge of envy. There is something intimate about the way you work, you focus entirely on Miyeon. It is professional, yes, but there is a closeness to it that feels almost too personal.

“Miss Minnie, may I assist you as well?”

Your words have her comeback to her senses.

Minnie hesitates, but Miyeon’s relaxed expression seems to reassure her.

"Okay."

She offers her hand to you.

Your touch is the same. Firm, deliberate, yet oddly tender. As your fingers press into her palm, she feels the tension in her muscles begin to melt away, replaced by a strange warmth that spreads up her arm. It isn’t just physical. It is as if the room itself shifts, the air growing heavier, more charged.

You guide them gently, your voice steady as you are now standing behind them. The session transitions into a guided relaxation exercise, with you encouraging them to let go of their insecurities, to embrace the moment without judgment.

As the atmosphere grows more intimate, your touch lingers a fraction longer, your voice dipping into a lower register. The boundary between professional and personal begins to blur, and Minnie finds herself caught between unease and a strange sense of surrender.

“Your bodies carry so much tension."

Your hands moving to Miyeon’s shoulders.

"You deserve to feel free.”

Miyeon’s eyes flutter shut as she leans into your touch, her breathing deep and steady. Minnie watches, her chest tightening as the charged atmosphere wraps around them like a cocoon.

When your attention turns back to Minnie, your touch is as deliberate as before, but there is a new intensity to it. A quiet demand for trust.

“You’re holding back. Why?”

“I don’t know."

Minnie whispers, her voice barely audible.

“Let go. Allow yourself to feel.”

The air in the lounge seems to grow thicker, the scent of sandalwood and jasmine wrapping around Minnie and Miyeon like an invisible tether. You move with the same deliberate grace, but your presence has changed. It is no longer just calm. It is commanding, almost magnetic.

“You’ve been carrying this tension for too long.”

Once more you move onto the older girl. Miyeon tilts her head back slightly, her breath hitching as your hands begin to knead the muscles at the base of her neck. Your touch is expert, but there iss a weight behind it now, a quiet insistence that seems to demand more than just physical surrender.

Minnie watches, her heart thudding in her chest. She wants to say something, but the words catch in her throat. There is something about the way you move, the way your voice fills the room, that makes it impossible to look away.

“Relax."

Your hands sliding down to Miyeon' upper arms. Your fingers brush against the edge of her collarbone, lingering just long enough to make her shiver.

"You deserve to let go.”

Miyeon’s eyes flutter shut, her lips parting as she exhales slowly.

“That feels... really good."

Her voice barely a whisper.

“And you, Miss Minnie."

You say, your tone now carrying a quiet authority. “You’re still holding back.”

Minnie’s pulse quickens as you step closer to her. “I... I’m not sure."

“You don’t have to be sure."

You reply, your voice soft but commanding.

“You only have to trust me.”

Before Minnie can respond, you reach for her hand. Your grip is firm yet gentle, your thumb brushing over her knuckles in a way that makes her skin tingle. You guide her to stand, your movements deliberate as you position yourself behind her.

“This isn’t just about touch. It’s about connection. About giving yourself permission to feel.”

Minnie’s breath hitches as your hands rest on her shoulders. Your fingers press into the tense muscles there, drawing a gasp from her lips. Your touch growing firmer as you work your way down her back.

“Good, you’re starting to let go.”

As your hands continue to move, Minnie feels a flicker of something unfamiliar. An awareness that goes beyond the physical. Her cheeks flush as your fingers brush against the curve of her waist, your touch straying just enough to make her wonder if it was intentional.

Miyeon, meanwhile, has leaned forward slightly, her head resting in her hands as you return your attention to her. You kneel in front of her, gesturing Minnie to sink back into the sofa, your hands sliding up Miyeon's calves to her knees.

“Tension gathers here too."

You look up at her.

“May I?”

Miyeon nods, her cheeks pink.

"Yes."

Your hands move higher, kneading the muscles just above her knees. Your movements are precise, but there is a deliberateness to them that makes the air between them feel electric. Your thumbs press inward, just shy of the hem of her dress, and Miyeon inhales sharply.

The silence in the room is broken only by the soft hum of the jacuzzi and the sound of breathing. You rise to your feet, your presence towering over both women as you step back slightly.

“You’re both carrying more than just physical tension. There are walls you’ve built around yourselves. They’re keeping you from fully releasing.”

“What do you mean?”

Miyeon's voice shaky.

“Allow me to show you."

You reach for the top button of your tailored jacket, unfastening it with slow, deliberate movements. The sound of the fabric sliding over your shoulders is almost deafening in the quiet room.

Minnie’s eyes widen as you set the jacket aside, revealing a crisp black shirt that clings to your frame. You roll up your sleeves, exposing strong forearms that seem to radiate power and control. The simple act feels charged, as though you are peeling away more than just clothing.

“Relaxation requires vulnerability."

You reach out to Miyeon. Your fingers brush against the strap of her dress, sliding it off her shoulder with a precision that feels both practiced and personal.

“It requires trust.”

Miyeon’s breathing quickens, but she doesn't stop you. Her cheeks flush as you repeat the gesture on her other shoulder, her dress slipping slightly as your hands move to her collarbone.

Minnie’s throat feels dry as you turn to her, your gaze penetrating.

“And you, Miss Minnie. Are you ready to let go?”

Her heart pounds as you reach for her, your hand resting lightly on her jaw. Your thumb brushes against her cheek, sending a jolt of heat through her.

“I... I don’t know."

She admits, her voice trembling.

“You don’t need to know. You only need to trust me.”

And as the line between professionalism and intimacy blurs, Minnie and Miyeon find themselves stepping into uncharted territory, their inhibitions slipping away under your guiding touch.

“You’re so used to holding everything inside. Your body carries it all. Your fear, your doubt, your desire.”

Your voice makes Minnie's breath quicken.

The last word linger in the air, heavy and deliberate. Minnie feels her cheeks flush, but she can't look away from you.

“Let me help you."

You say, your voice dropping into a deeper register. Your thumb traces the line of her jaw before your hand moves to her shoulder, your fingers brushing the edge of her neckline.

“You don’t have to hold onto it anymore.”

Minnie’s breath hitches as your touch grows bolder, your hand sliding down her arm. She feels a strange mix of apprehension and anticipation, her mind racing even as her body seems to respond instinctively to your presence.

You turn your attention back to Miyeon, who sits on the sofa, her posture tense despite the warmth in her cheeks. You move with the same measured grace, kneeling in front of her again, your hands resting lightly on her knees.

“You’re more open. But you’re still holding back.”

“I’m not...”

Miyeon starts, but her voice falters as your hands move higher, your thumbs pressing into the soft flesh above her knees.

“You’re used to giving up control in small ways, but not fully. Not here.”

Your hands slide up further, brushing the hem of her dress as you lean in closer.

“Trust me.”

Miyeon’s breath quickens, her lips parting slightly as she nods. Your hands move to her hips, your fingers firm but careful as you guide her to relax against the cushions. Your movements are deliberate.

“You’re starting to feel it.”

Minnie’s heart pounds as she watches the interaction. There is something mesmerizing about the way you move, the way you speak, the way Miyeon seems to melt under your touch. But there is also something deeply unsettling. Something that makes her question whether you have gone too far.

Before she can process her thoughts, you turn your attention back to her. You rise to your feet, your presence towering over her as you extend a hand.

“Stand."

Minnie hesitates, but the weight of your gaze compels her to obey. She places her hand in yours, her legs trembling slightly as you guide her to stand in front of you again.

“You’re stronger than you think."

Your hand moves to her lower back. The pressure of your palm is firm, steady, grounding.

"But strength doesn’t mean closing yourself off.”

Your free hand moves to her waist, your fingers brushing the fabric of her dress. You're close now. So close that she can feel the heat radiating from your body, the faint scent of your cologne mingling with the jasmine and sandalwood in the air.

“You’re holding your breath. Let it go.”

Minnie exhales shakily, her body softening under your touch. She feels your hands shift, one sliding to the curve of her hip while the other moves to her shoulder. Your movements are slow, deliberate, giving her just enough time to process but not enough to resist.

“Good. Now, let me show you what it feels like to truly release.”

Your voice is barely above a whisper.

Your movements grow bolder, your hands exploring the boundaries of her comfort with the precision of someone who knows exactly how far to go. Your fingers brush the small of Minnie’s back, trailing up her spine in a way that makes her shiver. Your touch isn’t rough, but there is a dominance to it. A quiet insistence that makes her heart race.

Miyeon, still reclining on the sofa, seems completely under your spell. Her dress has slipped lower on her shoulders, and she makes no move to adjust it as you returned to her side. Your hand moves to her thigh, your fingers pressing into the soft flesh just above her knee.

“You’re doing well. But you can give more.”

Miyeon’s breath hitches as your hand moves higher, your touch deliberate but never hurried. She closes her eyes, her body sinking further into the cushions as she lets herself be guided by you.

Minnie watches, her chest tightening as the tension in the room reaches a breaking point. She feels your hand on her waist again, your touch grounding her even as her thoughts spin out of control.

“You’re thinking too much. Stop thinking. Just feel.”

Minnie closes her eyes, her body responding to your words even as her mind screams at her to pull away. But it is too late. Your lips meet hers.

Once again, only the jacuzzi breaks the silence. Minnie's whole body is frozen. Miyeon looks at the two of you with wide eyes. Your sudden move has them both stunned. But to Minnie's own surprise, she can feel her body trying to reciprocate the kiss. Her lips almost move on their own. Why isn't she stopping this? She should pull away, say something. But her body refuses. Instead, she sinks even deeper into your touch.

As the blonde deepens the kiss, you slowly let your hands wonder along her waist. Miyeon bites her lip as she watches you feeling Minnie's ass. Your sudden advance stirs something unexpected inside her. Jealousy? Curiosity? She can't tell, but the older girl's body seems to edge closer on its own.

The two of them have gotten used to your touch. Their bodies reacting positively to every one of your movements. When you finally do break the kiss, Minnie leans back. She can feel your hands on her ass and yet, she can still feel the professionalism in your eyes. Not that horny look she sees in some men's eyes when they walk past her. But a look that makes her curious as to what the next step is.

Her breath hitches, when your left hand moves to the front. It almost seems like a coincidence as it slips beneath the long brown skirt. Minnie's eyes are still focused on yours. You place your hand right above her core. Only her underwear separates your hand from her snatch. But you don't apply pressure, or start to move your hand further. You just hold it there.

Leaning closer again, you let your lips brush against hers, before kissing her cheeks instead. Minnie holds her breath, when she hears your voice.

"Be good girl."

You nod towards the space on the sofa, right next to Miyeon.

"Touch yourself."

Pulling back, you can see all kinds of different emotions reflected in Minnie's eyes. Surprise, uncertainty, and a hint of anger. But her look is too soft. She already feels good, her body relaxed. Why not relax her mind as well?

"Trust me."

Your words already seem so familiar to her. Minnie decides to go with the flow. Unconsciously, she finally realizes what is actually going on here. This is not a massage parlor. At least not an ordinary one. Soyeon must know what place this is. Minnie sinks into the sofa, doing her best to give up control. Soyeon said, you're the best.

Miyeon's cheeks show a deep red as you focus on her. Just like Minnie, she comes to her own realization. She isn't just paying you for a massage. She is paying you for...for sex.

"May I?"

Like before, you ask Miyeon for permission.

She hesitates, but eventually nods. Holding her breath, she expects a kiss from you as well. Instead, you kneel down again. But this time, it's not your hand on her thigh. You plant a kiss right above her left knee.

Miyeon looks down on you, slowly exhaling. She feels an odd mix of disappointment and excitement. Another kiss, above her right knee.

She feels your trail of kisses move along her thighs, alternating between left and right. With every step forward, she lets out a weak gasp.

Reaching the hem of her black dress, you glance at Minnie. She didn't get rid of her skirt yet, but you see that her hand has disappeared underneath it. Her eyes are half closed, looking back at you. Her lips are slightly parted as if she's letting out a soundless moan.

Miyeon instinctively reaches for your wrists as you slowly reach for the hem of her dress.

"Trust me."

Your smile makes Miyeon hesitate. She can feel the sincerity, the professionalism. You aren't a random guy who is taking advantage of her. You're just doing your job.

When her grip loosens, you push up her dress. You expose more and more of her porcelain like thighs, until you expose her core. The sight almost has you surprised. Miyeon must have assumed that she'd change into a proper massage outfit anyway. So she didn't bother wearing underwear. You have to stop your urge to just dive in. Her lips slightly glisten with building arousal. You catch a hint of her clit, almost begging you to take care of it.

Focusing back on her thighs, you start right where you left off. You earn a disappointed sigh, which is quickly replaced by slight moan. Miyeon's beautiful voice accompanies every single one of your kisses, until you finally reach her center.

You start to hear Minnie properly moaning now. You can only guess how she must feel, watching how her friend is going to get eaten out right in front of her. She is still moving her hand relatively slow, showing how relaxed her body really is.

When you finally reach Miyeon's pussy, you decide to give it a long, steady lick from bottom to top. A loud, drawn out sigh leaves her body. Another lick earns you another sigh. The third one makes her moan. You let your hands glide along her thighs as you bury your head between them.

Miyeon's eyes flutter shut as she feels your tongue roaming her pussy. Her head rolls back, when you give her thighs comforting squeezes. You suck on her folds, making her moan out, before finally capturing her clit with your mouth.

Minnie finally inserts two fingers inside her pussy as she watches Miyeon moan and quiver under your touch. She imagines your tongue on her own clit. How you draw patterns on it, how you occasionally let your tongue dart inside her snatch.

You feel Minnie's hand hold onto yours, which is still resting on Miyeon's thigh. The older girl's hips have started to buck in your direction, her body desiring more and more of the pleasure you're giving her. She keeps melting into the sofa the longer you feast on her pussy. Her surroundings become blurry, only your tongue exists.

"I think..."

Miyeon tries to say something, but her mouth won't listen. She barely hears Minnie's loud moan, too busy with feeling arousal flooding her senses.

"Close."

It's the only words she can get over her lips. Her breathing becomes quicker. You feel one of her hands finding the back of your head, pushing you further towards her. Her back arches as her body prepares herself for the incoming orgasm.

Miyeon climaxes with your tongue buried deep inside of her. All the tension suddenly leaves her body as she sinks back into the sofa. Her eyes are still closed as she tries to catch her breath.

You stand up and move over to Minnie, who finally stops pleasuring herself. She waits for you to do something. You leave her hanging for a second, before you reach down and start to unbuckle your belt. The two of you keep eye contact, while you take off your pants. Once they're on the floor, you step out of them. You expect Minnie to hesitate, or be surprised. Instead, she reaches forward, eyes still locked onto yours.

You feel one of her fingers trace along the outlines of your cock, the material of your boxers barely disrupting her touch. After her little teasing, Minnie reaches upwards to take off your underwear. When it hits the floor, her eyes move from your own to your dick. You catch her biting her lip, her hand slowly wrapping around your length. She gives you a couple of slow strokes as you look over at Miyeon. The older woman, still a little red, watches her friend's hand move up and down. One of her own is already resting on her thigh, her need for more pleasure obvious.

But you have focus on Minnie now. Soyeon did tell you to properly wear them out, so you get on the sofa, kneeling above Minnie's torso. She looks up at your again, slowly opening her mouth. Guiding your cock towards her, you watch her lips close around your tip. You feel her tongue roaming your length as you push deeper into her. Minnie lets go of your cock, her arms now stretched out on the backrest as she leans back a little.

You hear Miyeon moaning beside you as you place both hands on either side of Minnie's head.

More of your cock disappears inside her mouth, until most of it is buried inside of her. Her eyes still look up at you. It's a mix of plea and challenge, which makes you move back, before pushing back into her again. You feel her tongue pressed flat against the underside of your cock as you give her mouth long, powerful strokes. Not wanting to go too quick from the get go, you decide to enjoy her warm mouth.

Miyeon is now doing the same thing Minnie did earlier. Her fingers are slowly rubbing her clit as she watches you fucking Minnie's mouth. You can tell that Miyeon was more willing to let go during the beginning, but is now more hesitant when it comes to intimacy. Wanting to help her ease into it a little more, you reach out with your right hand. Miyeon gets the hint as you extend your ring- and middle finger. You watch how she leans forward, her lips then slowly closing around your fingers. Miyeon's eyes close again as she starts to suck on your fingers, while she keeps playing with herself.

Minnie makes you focus back on her by holding onto your thighs with both hands. The two of you lock eyes again. You move your hand towards the back of her head and now pull her in your direction as you thrust forward. Minnie's moan sends vibrations up your spine. You now increase your pace as you begin to feed her your whole length.

The room is now filled with the beautiful sounds of both girl either sucking on your fingers, or slightly gagging on your cock. You feel Miyeon making you extend a third finger, before she takes all three of them into her mouth. At the same time, you start to properly fuck Minnie's face, not wanting to disappoint Soyeon, if she asks her friends afterwards about their experience.

Minnie opens her mouth a little wider, trying to make it easier for her to take all of you. Saliva starts to escape the corners of her mouth as you keep thrusting into her. Miyeon lets her tongue swirl around your fingers, while she keeps sucking on them. You can hear her fingers going in and out of her pussy, the sounds telling you how wet this is making her.

After you give Minnie a couple more especially hard thrusts, you slowly retreat out of her mouth. Her spit connects her lips with your cock for a while, until the small strings snap. You remove your wet fingers out of Miyeon's mouth and stand up again.

You head over to a small drawer and take out two items. Minnie and Miyeon watch you while doing so. When you turn back to them, Minnie smiles, while you can still see uncertainty on Miyeon's face.

"They're supposed to be identical to mine."

The younger girl takes both transparent silicon dildos from you, before passing one of them to Miyeon.

"I want you two to show me how good you can suck cock."

You step behind them, your voice still soft, like it was at the beginning. But this time it doesn't ask for permission.

Miyeon hesitates once more, but Minnie gladly pushes the dildo past her lips. When you reach down with both hands, letting them slowly glide down their bodies, Miyeon finally follows the younger girl. Your right hand dives underneath Minnie's skirt, and pulls her panties to the side, while the other directly heads towards Miyeon's pussy.

Only moments later, you have both girls sitting next to each other, sucking on dildos that are shaped like your cock, while you start to finger both of them. Your position behind them enables you to penetrate them further and curl your fingers upwards to find just the right spot. Minnie's mouth produces gagging sounds once more as she does the same to herself as you did barely a minute ago. Miyeon is being more sensual, her lips slowly gliding up and down the hand made length, but focusing on the tip, whenever she is about to pull it out completely. The two women's moans are muffled, but you can clearly hear them. As you continue to move your fingers inside of them, they become louder. It only takes you a couple of minutes, to have both of them melting into the sofa, their eyes shut and the dildos inside their mouths coming to a halt.

Miyeon is quickly overwhelmed by her second orgasm, her body soon quivering once more. Her feet shuffle around on the floor as she sees stars. Minnie, on the other hand, freezes, only her eyelids fluttering. But once the orgasm has washed through her, she shakes for a couple of moments as well, until both finally calm down again. Both their pussies have been massaging your fingers throughout the whole experience, making you want to finally feel them around your cock.

"Strip."

You whisper into Miyeon's ear as you slowly pull your fingers pit of both women. The older girl does what she's told. She stands up and lets her dress slide down her body. You admire her naked body for a moment. But wanting to keep it professional, you just nod towards the middle of the room.

"I want to see you in the jacuzzi on your knees, pretending to suck me off."

You see Miyeon's head trying to have an inner discussion with herself. But despite your unyielding words, you give her a reassuring smile. She takes a deep breath and finally lets go of all the control she has kept over her own body.

"On your knees."

You give a different command to Minnie, but not without playfully giving her ear a small bite afterwards. It was obvious from the beginning that, once she let go of her idol image, Minnie would turn out to be the kinkiest out of the two.

You slowly walk around the sofa, while watching Miyeon slowly stepping into the jacuzzi. She turns around, the toy in her hand, before slowly sinking to her knees. After giving her one last reassuring nod, Miyeon takes the dildo back into her mouth.

Kneeling behind Minnie, you let your hands roam her ass once more. It looks great, even when it's hidden underneath the brown fabric.

She looks back at you as you take off her skirt, wanting to see how you push inside of her. You lean over to capture her lips once more. Minnie loses herself in the kiss, while you push her panties down her thighs.

You lean back again when you hear Miyeon moaning. The older woman is still kneeling in the jacuzzi, her lips wrapped around the toy in her hand. But her other hand is underwater, visibly trying to make herself cum for a third time.

Minnie watches as you take your cock and align it with her entrance. She feels you brush against her folds, before you finally penetrate her. A deep sigh leaves her body as you bury half of your length inside pussy. Her tight walls wrap around your cock like they were made for it. Her head drops down between her shoulders when you pull out and thrust into her again. Minnie's whole body reacts with every thrust.

With both hands on her slim waist, you establish a steady pace, while watching Miyeon acting like a slut in the jacuzzi. The fact that she seems to be the most reserved out of the two makes it even more beautiful. She instinctively started to write two of her own fingers, which are buried inside of her. Her other hand keeps pushing the dildo in and out of her mouth.

After a couple of minutes, you see Miyeon coming to a halt, while you keep fucking Minnie. The older girl's posture weakens and you watch her orgasm yet again. It looks like Miyeon really was in need of a proper relaxation.

You place a hand on Minnie's lower back, pushing her upper body down. It creates a better angle for your cock. You know reach even deeper places, which makes Minnie moan even louder.

"Oh my god, yes! Fuck me harder!"

She's fully embraced the situation by now. Not just giving up control, but also working towards a common goal. Which is to have fun.

As you keep fucking Minnie, you watch Miyeon sitting down in the jacuzzi. She is looking at the two of you, but you can tell that she needs a moment to collect herself. That's why you're focusing on Minnie now, making sure her pussy is being properly stretched out. She can feel it. How your cock parts her walls. How your length continues to hit the deepest spots inside of her.

"Oh, yes. Keep going."

Her voice is reduced to a whine. Minnie is slowly falling apart underneath your relentless assault. You keep pressing her into the sofa, so now her ass is in perfect position. You give her a couple of spanks here and there. Each spank makes her let out a gasp. Her face is pressed into the armrest as Minnie starts to touch herself, while you keep fucking her. The added pleasure soon proves to be too much for her.

She orgasms for a second time today, her body freezing up. You stop pounding her, waiting for her to calm back down. Minnie's body starts to move again, more and more tension leaving her body. But you have to pull out. Otherwise you would've cum right there. Her tight pussy was about to trick you into cumming inside.

As Minnie gets back up into a seating position, you head towards Miyeon, but not without doing another stop at the drawer from earlier. You decide to step it up, hoping that Miyeon is already up for this. She just stepped out of the jacuzzi and is now standing in front of you. Her lower half is glistening due to her wet skin. You capture her lips with yours, make Miyeon melt into the kiss, while reaching down to stimulate her pussy further.

When Miyeon feels your fingers brush against her folds, she moans into your mouth. But her breath hitches, when she suddenly hears something buzzing.

"Just relax."

You mutter into the kiss. The small vibrator, you just took out of the drawer, slowly parts her lower lips. It is not very big, but that's not the point anyway. Miyeon starts to moan when the small toy starts to send vibrations through her body.

"Put your hands behind your back."

Miyeon takes a moment to follow your command, the vibrator a new found experience for her right now. After taking off your tie while walking around her, you bind her wrists together behind her back. Miyeon tries to turn her head, wanting to now what you're up to. You press your body against hers from behind, your cock resting right between her cheeks. Reaching around her, you give her tits a squeeze. The combination of you starting to play either breasts and the vibrator inside of her turns Miyeon's brain into a mess. She moans louder than before, her body already trembling.

"Minnie."

You call the younger girl over and make her take her dildo with her.

"Pick hers up as well."

When she stands in front of you with one in each hand, you nod towards the floor.

"Ride both of them."

You see her hesitating for a second. She might've never tried taking two cocks at once.

"Be a good girl for me, hm?"

Minnie finally nods. To the sound of Miyeon's continuous moans, she places the flat ends of the dildos on the floor. They're right next to each other. As she lowers herself onto them, she has slight trouble to get the two tips into the right positions. But once she does, Minnie slowly takes both cocks at once. Not the full length, but you know she'll eventually work up to that.

You and Miyeon both watch as Minnie rides two dildos at once. She is slow at the beginning, but eventually picks up her pace a little. Her eyes are wide open the entire time. She bites her lip, trying to muffle moans, which would be too loud for the room.

Once you made sure Minnie is doing fine, you return back to Miyeon. You bend your knees a little and suddenly you're just at the perfect hight. Taking a small step forward, you push upwards. Miyeon gasps when she feels your tip push past her entrance. She is now filled with the vibrator and your cock as you keep stuffing her. Eventually, your tip hits the toy, sending vibrations through your body.

Both girls are now filled to their limits. Minnie slowly keeps riding the two dildos. You can see how much her pussy is getting stretched out. Her mouth eventually falls open as she starts to let the moans just flow out of her mouth. Miyeon isn't in a much better state. She's slightly leaned forward, pushing her ass further into you. You're holding onto her tits, occasionally giving them a squeeze. While you fuck her, you hit the vibrator with every thrust.

"Your pussy feels so good, when it's completely stuffed."

Miyeon blushes at your lewd compliment. She can't do anything but watch Minnie riding the two silicon dildos. The younger girl is now starting to drool, saliva slowly dropping out of her mouth and onto the floor.

As you keep ruining her tight pussy, Miyeon is kept on the constant edge of orgasm. To her, it feels like every thrust could be the last. The vibrator gives her a steady wave of pleasure, while your thrusts make her almost tumble over the edge. You can feel how you push the vibrator further and further inside Miyeon. Her pussy is still able to take your cock though. You're just wondering for how much longer.

Because you eventually start to run out of energy and resistance as well. Miyeon's tight snatch and the vibrator leave their marks on your cock as well. You enjoy groping her tits as well. And the sight of Minnie, struggling to ride two cocks, is almost enough on its own.

After a couple more minutes of endless moans and pleas, Miyeon finally experiences the hardest orgasm of the day. The combination inside of her makes her clamp down on your cock, almost squeezing you a little too hard. To her own surprise and embarrassment, Miyeon squirts. You didn't expect it to be much, but you suddenly feel yourself getting forced out of her tight cavern. It would've been a great shame, if it wasn't for what happens after. Because Minnie is basically kneeling right in front of Miyeon, she is the one who gets hit first, not the floor. The older girl destroys even the very last bit of dignity that Minnie had left.

Miyeon's squirt ruins the younger girls face. But instead of turning away, Minnie keeps her mouth open. You can tell she is swallowing some of Miyeon's squirt, making you wonder if something similar has happened between the two of them before.

The older woman's pussy and the sight of Minnie getting drenched in her friend's juices has you now on the verge of climax as well.

"Kneel next to her."

You let go of Miyeon as you slowly pull out of her. Her legs are weak, but she manages to do as you say. Only a couple of moments later, you finally cum on both their faces. Minnie's is now a mixture of squirt, cum and ruined makeup, while Miyeon looks quite decent, despite the amount of cum she has on her left cheek and the bridge of her nose.

Because of a waiting customer, you, Minnie and Miyeon had to switch rooms. Which isn't inherently bad, since this room fits your personal taste a little more. The whole massage parlor act just doesn't work really well though, if you walk new clients into a room with a king sized bed that has ropes tied to it on all four bed posts. Actually, the whole room has a completely different vibe, which Minnie and Miyeon are currently experiencing.

Miyeon is standing against one of the brick walls, her hands not tied by your tie anymore, but by chains. They're hooked into the wall above her head, making her raise her arms. Her forehead is leaning against the wall, your cum leaking out of her freshly fucked pussy. Her ass is covered in big red stripes, the whip you used is lying next to her on the floor.

After making sure that Miyeon is still fine, you move over to Minnie. The younger girl is tied up on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. The bullet vibrator strapped to her clit explains her pleasure wrecked face and the wet sheets underneath her.

You reach for the candle that has been burning on the nightstand for a while now. Minnie follows the candle with her eyes, until you hold it up around a meter above her torso. She bites her lip, but instead of closing her eyes, she arches her back off the bed. Taking it as an invitation, you tilt the candle, letting a couple of drops hit her flawless skin.

"Oh, gos! That's hot!"

Minnie cries out, the black wax slightly burning her skin. Another tilt of the candle makes another drop hit her right breast, right next to her nipple. Her breath quickens as you cover her body with more wax.

Wanting to let it cool for now, you put the candle back to it's original place, before climbing on top of Minnie. She instinctively opens her mouth wide as you kneel above her chest. You push your cock into her mouth. Within a couple of seconds, you're already face fucking Minnie for the second time today. Her face is already a mess anyway, so what's the problem?

Soon her gags fill the slightly smaller room. The two of you keep eye contact as you thrust into her mouth.

"You like to get used like this, don't you?"

Minnie can't say anything or shake her head. There is no use denying it anyway. Her eyes only glisten with excitement when you reach for the candle once more. There's is a reason to why idols or actresses have to disclose the date of their next official schedule.

Another tilt of the candle has Minnie moaning and crying around your cock. The black wax hits her left cheek, probably leaving a visible mark for the next day or two. You keep fucking Minnie's face, only slightly slowing down from time to time to glaze her gorgeous features with more wax.

Once you've had enough of her mouth, you only put down the candle for a minute to flip Minnie onto her stomach. Time for your art work. Soyeon enjoyed this before as well. You start to dribble the hot wax onto Minnie's back, while she is trying to guess what you're writing. It doesn't take you long to finish.

"A slut. That's what you are."

You wrote the word in Korean letters from the top of her back to the bottom. After putting the candle down again, you now kneel between her legs. You take Minnie's pussy from behind once more. Pushing past her lips has her moaning louder than before, the wax still uncomfortably cooling on her skin.

"Yes, that's me. You've turned me into a slut for your cock."

Minnie's confession makes you smile. That's what all of this depends on. Rich, regular clients. That's how you can afford all of this and even live comfortably.

You have your way with Minnie's pussy, while you knead her ass cheeks, giving them squeezes and occasionally pressing down on her lower back.

"Damn, you're so deep."

Her whine gives you the energy to keep fucking her. It isn't easy to keep up with these two. This might be their first time, but two frustrated, tension filled, gorgeous women are always a challenge.

You can already hear Miyeon pretending to fight against the chains behind you as she can't see what's going on. Shifting your attention onto Minnie again, you keep plowing her into the mattress. Leaning over her a little further, you're almost prone boning her, your hips meeting her cheeks with every thrust.

"Fuck, you're bruising my insides."

She whines again, but not to complain. Just pure admiration for your craft.

The better angle enables you to reach even deeper places, until you finally can't fight back against Minnie's overwhelmingly tight snatch. All the wax stuff has turned her on way more than she'd like to admit. The way her ass cheeks recoil whenever your thrust into her finally makes your orgasm. You quickly pull out and shoot your load all over Minnie's back. You partially hit the black wax letters, creating a beautiful work of art on her back.

Minnie and Miyeon both give you polite bows as lean against the entrance of the so called massage parlor. You can tell that their consciousness and their shyness from the beginning has returned, but in a softer form. The two women are aware of how deep you were able to look into their souls for the last couple of hours.

The sun is already starting to set as you confirm their next appointment one last time.

"Same time next week, correct?"

You catch the blush return on Miyeon's cheeks, while Minnie nods after hesitating for a second.

"Yes. See you next week."

You keep your professional smile, giving them a slight bow as they walk down the driveway.

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Hi, everyone!

This is the second story of the December special. I tried to write in a slightly different way this time, I hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless.

Stay healthy!

FIY: I have trouble sleeping recently, so if I have more spelling issues or stuff, that's because I'm tired. I'm hoping to read over this again soon though.