hello

maybe you could do one on being a bartender at a little bar, hidden away in the forest, where loads of big mean monsters come in for a drink, but end up taking their turns with you sprawled out across the bar counter 🙉🙉

That sounds so nice, getting bent over by a different creature every day--every other hour. Sometimes they'd take turns, passing me around the table after I bring their drinks, or lines forming at the bar to get their time with me, bending me over, and leaving me breathless and gasping when they're done.

Maybe sometimes they can't wait, too impatient, stretching me on two cocks, different hands sliding over me at once, large hands pulling my face away from others to capture my lips in a kiss. They'd make sure everyone can see how much I love it when they take me together, or trying to prove a point to the other to see who can fuck me better.

Sometimes they're rough, though they know I like it. Werewolves not knowing their own strength till they see the marks left on my hips, or vampires so dazed with pleasure that they leave me with bite marks and dark hickeys. Giant monsters that can easily manhandle me into whatever position they want me in, spreading me over the bar, or over their laps.

Maybe when the bar's low on money, or I want something extra, auctioning off a night with me, having me on display on a stage, letting them watch how well I can take it, how obedient I'll be, how pretty I look getting fucked.

But it doesn't mean the prince can't touch. He'll brush a hand against their arm any time he passes them, coax them far too close when he needs to say something, tell them to stand and watch over him as he changes and bathes for extra protection, keeping eye contact as he steps into his bath, bare and beautiful, but infuriatingly untouchable.

When the knight has had enough and they can't take the teasing any longer, they'd hatch a plan. They'd beg the prince for just one night, just one, and they'd let it go. It was all they needed. Amused, the prince would agree, but tell them they get only one night.

The knight would be called into the prince's rooms that night, and find the prince lounging in bed. He'd stand and ask them to help him undress, and they'd pull off the prince's silk clothes with trembling, nervous hands, dragging their fingers against his soft skin in wonder. They'd ask for permission to touch him properly, and he'd allow it with a laugh, spreading his legs and coaxing them closer.

The knight would take such care of their prince, mouth slow, fingers gentle, right up until they've got him sunk on their strap. Then their calloused hands would dig into his hips, their thrusts suddenly much faster, his gasps and moans at their chance in pace making them even more desperate. They'd press his face into his pillows, keep him in place, fucking him into the sheets, far rougher than a prince should be handled, but they can't find it in them to worry. If this was the only night they fully planned to take it, and use their prince like the precious prize he was.

And they aren't going to stop when it's so clear the prince loves it. They've watched him for so long, they know what he likes. His face is wet with tears and his fingers fist the sheets but he's begging them for more, back arching when they give it to him. He trembles at their touch, but he never tells them to stop so they use him till they're both too worn out to move.

When morning comes, the knight will assume their usual position, only to find out the prince has changed his mind. He tells them that he wants them every night, that he's craving their touch. But they'd just smile and tell him they only agreed to one night and that's all he's going to get. It's not their fault the prince underestimated them.

But they know he's not going to be able to get off alone after their night together and no one else was going to make him forget. He'd be desperately wanting their touch, the same way the knight had for so long.

But the Prince clasps his hand gently over the metal and holds his hand to his throat. He looks up at him with such a gentle look- like a fawn. And before he can talk reason into the Prince- to tell him that here is certainly not the place and that what he's thinking is highly inappropriate- he's being pulled closer. The Prince is pressing his gauntlet down onto his throat firmer. He's leading the Knights other hand down to his hip.

"I need you."

The Prince gasps out like a prayer. And it's all the Knight can do to at least shove the boy into a dark spot of the hall to at least try and save him from being seen.

"You're being indecent. We're not even in your chambers and you're acting like a harlot."

He warns. But it's never really a warning, is it? If he really cared, he wouldn't encourage it by tightening his fingers around the boys throat. Or by sliding his hand from the Prince's hips to the waistband of his trousers- and pulling them down just enough to press the tip of a gauntleted finger to the boys throbbing clit.

"This is what you think you need, hm? When you're supposed to be in there- mingling and courting? Then so be it. But you will be quiet, or we will be caught. And what would the people think- finding out their Prince is such a harlot that he needs a hand on his cunt in the middle of their halls because he can't even wait an hour."