birthday sex with dom winter please thanku
birthday sex w/ winter…
cw: oral (f receiving), dom!winter, soft dom energy but filthy execution, birthday teasing, overstimulation, praise + light possessiveness, aftercare
a/n: here it is fein. u better like it. happy late birthday even tho i said happy bday b4
you’re already in bed when she gets home, warm under the covers, sleep tugging at your eyelids. the clock just barely hit midnight, a small balloon tied to your doorknob and a candle flickering on your nightstand. your birthday.
and minjeong— god, she looks dangerous in the dim light. tousled hair, hoodie slipping off her shoulder, eyes low and heavy with something that makes your thighs clench under the blanket.
she closes the door behind her and pads over to the bed, crawling in beside you without a word. her hand slips beneath the covers, fingers tracing lazy circles on your bare thigh.
“you stayed up for me?” she murmurs, voice raspy and quiet.
“‘course,” you whisper, already breathless. “s’my birthday, remember?”
her lips curl into a smirk against your skin. “i know. you want your present now?”
you’re about to answer, but she’s already pulling the blanket off your legs, settling between them like she’s meant to live there. she kisses her way down your belly, slow and teasing, until her mouth hovers over where you need her most.
“been thinking about this all day,” she murmurs, breath warm against your inner thigh. “how wet you’d be for me. how sweet you’d taste.”
you whimper, fingers threading through her hair, and minjeong hums low in her throat like she’s starving.
she starts slow— soft, kitten licks over your folds, eyes locked on yours the whole time. her hands slide under your thighs, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed, anchoring you into place.
“mm, there she is,” she murmurs. “my birthday girl.”
she eats you out like it’s her life’s purpose. slow, deliberate, maddeningly good. her tongue moves in slow circles, teasing your clit, then dipping down to fuck into you, her nose pressed against your skin.
you’re gasping her name now, hips twitching, but she only tightens her grip on your thighs and flattens her tongue against your clit, licking you in long, slow strokes that make you cry out.
“so good for me,” she murmurs, lips slick and glistening. “you taste so fucking sweet, baby.”
your hands are shaking, nails digging into her scalp, but she doesn’t stop. her mouth is relentless, tongue fast and perfect, her moans sending vibrations through you until you’re begging.
“min—please—fuck, i’m gonna—”
“mmhm,” she hums, mouth still buried in you. “come for me, birthday girl. let me hear you.”
you fall apart with a sob, back arching, thighs trembling around her head. but she doesn’t stop—she keeps going, licking you through it, pushing you right into another orgasm before the first has even faded.
you’re crying now, voice high and wrecked. “t-too much—minjeong—”
“shhh,” she coos, finally slowing down. “you can take it. just one more, yeah? for me?”
your body is twitching, overstimulated and soaked, but you nod—because it’s her, and because she’s looking at you like you’re her entire world.
and when you fall apart for the third time, shaking and sobbing her name, she kisses your thighs softly, whispering praise into your skin.
your body’s still trembling against the sheets, thighs sticky and twitching from the three orgasms she just pulled out of you with her mouth alone. your pillow is damp with sweat and maybe a few overwhelmed tears, and winter’s lips are glistening as she crawls back up beside you.
she brushes your hair back, kisses you slow and deep, lets you taste yourself on her tongue.
“you okay?” she murmurs, voice low and thick with heat. “still with me, birthday girl?”
you nod, dazed. “mhm… s’too good.”
and she smiles, slow and dangerous. “good. ‘cause i’m not finished.”
you barely have time to catch your breath before she’s sliding off the bed, opening the drawer where she keeps that box—your heart stutters when you see the straps in her hands. black, sleek, and already gleaming with lube.
“color?” she asks, voice firm now, the softness fading behind something darker.
“any,” you breathe. “please, min...”
she’s already climbing back onto the bed, her hoodie discarded somewhere on the floor, strap secured around her hips. “on your back. arms up.”
you obey instantly, heart pounding, and she ties your wrists to the headboard with one of her silk scarves, kissing your knuckles as she does.
“you look so pretty like this,” she says, crawling between your legs. “tied up, wrecked, mine.”
her hands roam your body—slow, reverent touches that make your breath hitch. she leans down, lips brushing your ear.
“you think i was done with just my mouth?” she whispers. “it’s your birthday. i’m gonna fuck you ‘til you forget your name.”
and then—gently, carefully—she slides the tip of the strap inside you. just an inch. then another.
you moan, head falling back, wrists pulling against the scarf. she groans low in her throat, eyes fixed where your bodies meet.
“so fucking wet for me,” she murmurs. “you always take me so well, baby.”
once she’s fully inside, she stills, letting you adjust—but her hands don’t stop. one slides under your back to hold you close, the other pressing down on your stomach, possessive and grounding.
“you feel that?” she whispers. “feel how deep i am inside you?”
you nod, eyes glassy. “feels so good, baby—please move…”
and she does. slow at first—long, deep strokes that fill you completely. your wrists twist in the scarf, thighs trembling, moans spilling from your lips with every thrust.
“you’re so fucking perfect,” she growls, pace picking up. “taking everything i give you… such a good girl for me.”
the rhythm builds, her hips slapping against yours, the strap hitting that spot inside you so good it makes you cry out. her free hand slips down to rub your clit in tight, teasing circles.
“you gonna come for me again, birthday girl?” she pants. “gonna come all over my cock?”
you’re babbling now, lost in it, gasping her name like a prayer.
“yes—yes, i’m close—minjeong, please—”
“then come,” she growls, slamming into you. “come for me. let me feel you fall apart.”
you shatter—body arching, legs shaking, back lifting off the sheets. she keeps fucking you through it, riding out your orgasm with relentless, deep thrusts until you’re sobbing her name, overstimulated and trembling.
and only then—only then—does she slow down, kissing your chest, your neck, your tear-streaked cheeks.
she unties your wrists gently, massaging the marks on your skin, wrapping you in her arms and pulling the blanket up over both of you.
“you did so good for me,” she whispers, voice soft again. “so, so good.”
you’re limp, boneless, completely ruined—and completely held.
she presses a kiss to your forehead, her arms tight around you as sleep tugs at your heavy limbs.
“happy birthday, baby.” her voice is a soft ache. “mine. always.”
