#//this is long and i was going to say than it needed to be BUT IT IS NEVER TOO LONG FOR RYATT
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SINK IN ME WITH YOUR DOG TEETH!
ೃ⁀➷ pair: logan howlett x fem!reader
ೃ⁀➷ wc: 7.0k
ೃ⁀➷ contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, established relationship, feral nasty unhinged logan yes god, logan only slightly losing his humanity but like it’s a lot less sad than it sounds, maybe some toxic relationship dynamics but who cares it’s porn, predator/prey dynamics, p in v, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, HEAVY scent kink (like don’t make me say it…but beware of some very subtle armpit stuff), pain kink, biting is just another form of sexual penetration guys, blood, so much come and come talk, creampie, squirting, this is just gross, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.
ೃ⁀➷ nat's note: hi…hi y’all…so here’s the winner of the poll and i need everyone to just hear me out for a second! walk with me! this is probably the most unhinged thing i’ve ever written, like omg those tags. this upsetting depravity was inspired by this post by @stupidfuckingwindow and this post by @monimccoythings which both altered the chemical balances of my brain so fiercely i blacked out for a while and when i came to this was in front of me. merry christmas and happy holidays! take this not at all christmas themed fic as my present to you my precious angels. kisses!
dividers by lovely @saradika-graphics!
you notice a strange shift in logan...
There’s something off with Logan.
The changes were subtle, but you’ve been with him long enough now to pick up on them. And while he's always had a raw, untamed edge to him, a sort of wildness simmering just beneath the surface, this feels different.
It started with the way he would go quiet for longer than usual, like his mind was too far away for you to reach—lost to somewhere distant.
Logan has always been quiet, but this was a different kind of silence. Conversations that used to flow with ease now hang in the air, unfinished. All of his responses reduced to nothing but low grunts and clipped words.
And he was more territorial over you, so much more.
His hand has started to linger at the small of your back or the curve of your waist for a lot longer when you’re in public, his strong grip firm enough to remind you—and anyone nearby—that you’re his.
He would fume at even the slightest hint of someone else's interest in you, a low warning growl escaping his throat to anyone who spared you a second glance.
It wasn’t just the physical closeness, though. It was also in the way Logan has started to watch you—his sharp gaze a never ending constant. An all imposing, heavily looming shadow.
There were even times late at night when you thought he was asleep, that you’d find him staring at you in the dark.
Not the usual, protective gaze he’d have when he thought you were vulnerable, but something deeper, more intense. His breathing would be slow, measured, but there was this energy, this tension that hummed between the two of you.
The nights he did manage to sleep, he’d hold you close to him, his grip iron-tight, his face buried in your hair. If you tried to shift away, even for a second, he’d stir, his arms pulling you back with a quiet, possessive growl that sent a shiver down your spine.
There were bite marks on your neck when you'd wake up, small enough to pass off as nothing—at least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself, but each one felt like a brand. They were deeper, more deliberate.
Then there was the scent—his scent.
You swear it’s gotten stronger, more potent. It clings to you like a second skin, lingering in your clothes, your sheets, even your hair. An intoxicating blend of leather and pine and musk that makes your head spin.
Each time you left the house without him, he’d pin you to the mattress and rub himself all over you before begrudgingly let you walk out the door. His hands or his face running along the delicate skin of your neck, of your stomach, of your wrists.
Everywhere.
He was claiming you in ways—new ways—that left you both exhilarated and confused.
There were other things too, smaller but no less odd things that were starting to add up.
More and more of your clothes have slowly started to go missing over the past few weeks. Each morning when you open any of your dresser drawers, it seems like there are less and less filling them.
Shirts, shorts, socks, bras, panties. All things you’ve found shoved under his side of the mattress or tucked under his pillow. The most memorable hiding place was the front pocket of his leather jacket, your favorite pair of panties haphazardly stuffed inside.
You haven’t said anything about it yet, unsure if you should be concerned or amused.
It isn’t like he’s truly hurting anyone.
He’s just acting…strange.
A part of you can’t help but be drawn to it—the new intensity, the new rawness. There was something undeniably magnetic about the way he clings to you, like you're his anchor in a world constantly shifting beneath his feet.
You’ve seen Logan at his worst—bloody, broken, and lost. But this? It’s never been like this before.
Whatever it is, it has its claws in him deep, and by extension, you.
You just got home from a run, barely walking through the door and kicking your shoes off when a call of your name rings out from the bedroom.
Logan’s tone stops you in your tracks—low and rough, like gravel crunching underfoot.
Your reaction is nearly instant, breath hitching in your chest, heart skipping a beat as a warmth that has nothing to do with the temperature outside starts to pulse through you steadily.
It’s like you’ve become reprogrammed to respond to him this way, your body reacting before your mind can even catch up as his deep, familiar voice rolls over the sweaty expanse of your skin.
You drop your bag at your feet and slowly make your way to the bedroom, a bead of sweat trailing down your temple as you push the door open.
All the curtains are closed, the only light in the room a yellow glow that shines from your bedside lamp.
Logan is sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his palms, but there’s nothing casual about his posture.
His gaze is locked on you, dark and intense, tracking every step you take, like a lion stalking a gazelle as it drinks from a watering hole.
“Didn’t tell me where you were going.” His eyes gleam as the lamp’s rays reflect off of them, his pupils dilated so he can see you better in the darkness that shrouds your room.
You swallow hard, trying to be as nonchalant as you can as your feet carry you to your dresser. “I went for a run,” you reply, your voice a little too steady, a little too casual.
You tug open the top drawer, rifling around for a clean shirt with a little more focus than necessary to distract yourself from the way his eyes burn a hole into your back.
“You didn’t tell me,” Logan repeats, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. “You know I don’t like it when I don’t know where my girl is.”
There’s a sharp edge to his words, but it’s not anger—it’s something far more primal.
The energy in the room crackles like a storm about to break, and you feel it in your bones, in the way your skin prickles under his gaze.
"I was only gone for an hour," you say, your voice measured, careful. "You were still asleep when I left, I didn’t want to wake you."
You chance a glance over your shoulder, and the sight of him steals the air from your lungs.
Logan hasn’t moved an inch from his perch on the edge of the bed, but the sheer force of his presence keeps you rooted in place, heart hammering in your chest.
“Hmm, that’s real sweet, baby,” he drawls, sitting up straighter now, leaning forward.
The motion makes him seem larger somehow, shoulders broad and imposing in the dim light. His tongue drags slowly across his bottom lip, and the way his gaze rakes over you feels like a physical touch, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.
Your fingers still in the drawer, fabric slipping from your grasp as your pulse pounds in your ears. You can’t bring yourself to look away from him, caught in the snare of his sharp, predatory focus.
You turn slowly, arms falling to hang limply at your sides. "I wasn't gone long."
Logan tilts his head, a low, amused sound rumbling in his chest as he rises to his feet with a fluid, deliberate ease that makes your stomach flip.
“Didn’t feel that way to me, darlin’.” His voice is a deep, gravelly purr. It sends a shiver down your spine. “Felt like forever.”
His eyes never leave yours as he crosses the room, the green completely swallowed by the dark black of his pupils as they seep into the color like oil spilling out over the surface of a lake.
You’ve never seen him like this before, so hungry.
"Logan," you say slowly, back pressed tightly against your dresser. "You're really starting to freak me out."
Logan hums idly, head cocked to the side as he watches you. "I can hear your heartbeat."
His tone is calmer now, but there’s still a dangerous edge to it, like a knife pressed just lightly enough against the skin not to break it.
Your pulse races, heat simmering in your stomach despite the slight edge of fear clawing its way through your chest.
He stops in front of you, so close that his scent invades your senses strong enough to make your knees feel like they’re about to buckle beneath you.
“There’s nothin’ to be scared of baby,” he mutters quietly, thick arms coming up to cage you against the dresser.
Your hold on the wood tightens, your knuckles turning white with the strength of your grip.
It’s almost chemical, the way you can feel your body start to give in to him. The thought fills you with as much arousal as it does unease, a heady combination that churns in your stomach.
You muster up enough will to breathlessly nod in agreement, a quiet submission.
Logan’s lips quirk into the faintest smirk, his heavy gaze dipping to the curve of your neck, lingering on the rapid flutter of your pulse. “That’s my good girl.”
Any words you might say get caught in your throat as you stare up at Logan, wide eyed and steadily leaking wetness into the gusset of your panties.
His nostrils flare, and a knowing sound rumbles from somewhere dark and low in his chest as his eyes flutter shut on a deep inhale.
Your thighs clench together instinctively, the overwhelming need to be filled wracking through your body like thunder.
When Logan opens his eyes again, there’s no trace of anything but pure animal need. The muscles in his jaw working furiously under his skin in time with the strain of his forearms still caging you in place.
“Yeah…” he trails off slowly, tone both condescending and soothing all at once. “I know you’re not all that scared, honey.”
He leans in, tearing a small whimper from your throat at the way his beard scrapes against your cheek as he crowds you.
His breath fans over the shell of your ear, hot and enticing as they brush against your skin when he speaks again. “I can smell how fuckin’ wet you are.”
Logan’s words send a sharp jolt through you, a broken moan falling from your parted lips as your cheeks heat up so fiercely it’s as if you’ve been slapped.
Your body moves without thinking, pressing up into his hard, unyielding frame like you can’t help it—and maybe you can’t.
“L–Logan…” Your voice trembles, a weak thing that dissolves in your throat as he noses along the skin of your neck.
His hands come down to rest on your waist, palms rough and possessive and warm and a perfect fit where they lay over your curves, anchoring you in place.
“Shhh.” His lips trail down your jaw, leaving wet kisses in their wake. “You don’t gotta say a thing, princess. I know what you need.”
Logan’s hands slip lower, cupping the backs of your thighs with ease before hoisting you onto the dresser like you weigh nothing. The sharp edge of the wood digs into your legs, but you can’t find it in yourself to care about the discomfort.
Your hands go to his shoulders without much of a second thought, nails digging into corded muscle as you try to keep your balance.
Logan’s hands stay on your thighs, his grip strong enough for you to feel the power behind them without hurting you.
He noses along your sweaty skin like a hot-tempered hound, desperately inhaling greedy lungfuls of your scent wherever he can get it.
Behind your ear, in the crook of your neck, along your collarbone, the exposed swell of your breasts, dangerously close to your underarm.
He groans against your shoulder, a full body shiver jolting his frame. “Smell so fuckin’ good darlin’, drives me goddamn crazy.”
You can’t form a coherent thought, let alone a response. His mouth finally finds yours, claiming you with a ferocity that steals your breath.
Logan's tongue slides against yours, a messy, desperate kiss that has you moaning into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer.
It’s filthy, fueled by nothing but raw need and desperation. Spit drips from your chin to trail down the length of your throat until it gathers in the valley of your breasts. Whether it’s his or yours, it doesn’t matter.
It’s a perfect mix of the both of you, lewd and messy in the way it claims your skin.
Logan breaks the kiss with a low moan, his chest heaving the same as yours as you both inhale harsh lungfuls of air.
His lips are red and raw, swollen in a way that your own must mirror. A string of saliva keeps you connected, drooping thinner and thinner in the space between you until it breaks under the weight of gravity.
Logan doesn’t give you long to catch your breath. His lips trail down your jaw and latch onto the sensitive spot just below your ear, teeth scraping against skin before he sucks hard enough to leave a mark.
Your head falls back against the wall as his mouth moves lower, dragging the strap of your sports bra down with his teeth.
The way he’s acting—like a man crazed, like he needs you more than he needs air—has you dizzy with need. But there's a part of you that’s still trying to hold onto some semblance of control, to hold onto something familiar in the chaos.
It’s only then that you realize this may be a bad idea.
Whatever this is, is clearly an accumulation of all the things you’ve noticed over the last couple of weeks.
Maybe indulging Logan will only make things worse, like giving in to him when he’s in such a state could be the tipping point to a much deeper and all consuming issue buried somewhere inside of him.
It can’t possibly be healthy for him to act like this, and it can’t be healthy for you to bask in it as much as you are.
“W–wait.” Your thighs slip shut, hands coming up to push at Logan’s shoulders weakly.
There’s no real force behind your ministrations and you keep your neck bared to him all the while, but he stops anyway, rearing back with a displeased noise.
His face hovers inches from yours, and for a moment, you swear he looks almost pained—his brows furrowing, jaw tightening as though reigning himself in is a Herculean effort.
His hands remain on your thighs, trembling slightly as he keeps himself rooted in place, clearly fighting every instinct roaring through him to just take what he wants.
“You don’t want me to stop, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low and gravelly, a stark contrast to the restraint in his expression. His thumbs stroke idly against your skin, his touch soothing even as his words drip with pure, feral confidence. “I can smell the way your pussy’s achin’ for it. I can feel it. You’re shakin’ for me.”
You are—your whole body feels like it’s on the verge of unraveling under his touch, your resolve crumbling faster than you’d like to admit.
Everything you were going to say gets clogged in your brain on the way out, leaving you silent as you hold his gaze.
You don’t even have the capability to feel embarrassed at the way you blanch, lost in the way his scent attacks your senses, in the rough drag of his palms over your bare thighs, in the way your lips still tingle from his kiss.
Logan sighs, long and all suffering as his hands come to rest on both of your shut knees. The impatient raise of his brow paired with the dissatisfied curl of his lips is enough to shake you to the core.
“Now, you gonna show it to me?” His fingers drum along your knee, his patience thinning. “Or am I gonna have to make you.”
And it may sound like one, but you know it’s not a question.
It’s a choice.
Your mind races, hands clenching and unclenching on Logan’s shoulders as you weigh your options. His own hands squeeze your knees, just hard enough to let you feel it in your bones.
You spread your legs.
Logan doesn’t waste a second, dropping to his knees in front of you with a satisfied rumble and a predatory gleam in his eyes. His hands grip your thighs, pushing them even wider. Wide enough to make you feel exposed, vulnerable in the best way.
Your head dips, chin falling to your chest as you watch the way Logan takes up the space between your legs. Your shorts are soaked, fabric so drenched that it’s melded to the shape of your cunt, your puffy folds on display for his greedy eyes.
“Fuck,” Logan breathes, his voice cracking like a whip in the quiet room. His hands find your waistband, and the dull sound of fabric ripping rings out.
The sturdy cotton tears like tissue paper in his hands, the scraps of your shorts falling carelessly to the floor, leaving you in nothing but the light blue panties you slipped on before your run.
The way he gazes at the space between your thighs is feral, unrestrained, like he’s a man starving for his next meal—and you’re it.
“Look at that…” Logan mutters, almost to himself as he runs his knuckle along the wet cotton of your panties. His touch is featherlight, barely any pressure at all, but it’s enough.
Your breath hitches, a sharp intake of air at the teasing touch, and your hips instinctively cant forward, silently begging for more.
Logan's eyes flick up to yours, a dark smirk curling his lips like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you—and how much you're already falling apart.
“Eager fuckin’ thing,” he drawls, voice rough with arousal. He leans forward, his hot breath ghosting over your soaked panties, sending a shiver racing down your spine. “You want me to give your pussy some kisses, baby?”
You open your mouth to respond, but the words never make it out. Logan’s lips press against the damp fabric, placing a kiss right over where your covered clit throbs with need.
Your head falls back to rest on the wall behind you, a shocked moan bursting from your lips.
“Logan.” His name is pulled from your mouth like a plea, but he doesn’t let up, the sharp edge of his teeth scraping over the sensitive bundle of nerves hidden beneath the soaked barrier of your underwear.
“Hmm?” He hums against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your core. “Thought you wanted me to stop?”
The taunt is maddening, the rasp of his voice and the teasing flicks of his tongue combining to unravel you piece by piece.
You shake your head furiously, thighs trembling where they rest on his broad shoulders. “N-no—don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”
Logan chuckles darkly, his hands sliding up your thighs to hook his fingers into the thin waistband of your panties.
“That’s more like it,” he taunts. With a single, sharp tug, the ruined fabric joins the scraps of your shorts on the floor.
Logan groans at the sight of your bare cunt, slick with your juices and flushed with arousal. His mouth waters, his tongue running along the sharp points of his canines in anticipation.
You’re already so ready for him.
“You smell so fuckin’ good,” he growls, leaning in to drag his nose along the slick seam of your folds. The deep inhale he takes is obscene, sending a ripple of anticipation through your entire body. “Know that you taste even better.”
Logan licks a broad stripe through your folds, groaning like the taste of you is enough to satisfy him completely. His hands grip your thighs tighter, keeping you spread and utterly at his mercy as he begins to work in earnest.
He alternates between laving the tip of his tongue over your clit and dipping down to fuck into you, his beard scraping along the skin of your thighs in a way that’s almost too much. Your head falls back, hitting the wall with a soft thud as your vision blurs.
“God, Logan.” You squirm on the vanity, but he holds you steady, growling low and deep into your core like your moaning only spurs him on.
“That’s it,” he mutters between licks, his words unmistakably smug. “Make those pretty little sounds for me, baby.”
Logan circles your clit with the flat of his tongue, alternating between firm, deliberate strokes and light, teasing flicks that leave you gasping for air.
You cry out, fingers tangling in his thick, unruly hair as he repeats the motions, your thighs starting to tremble on either side of his head.
Every time your hips buck against him, he growls, the vibrations of it sinking into your skin and amplifying the pleasure coursing through your veins.
“Stay still,” he orders, his voice muffled against your dripping core but no less commanding. His hands tighten on your thighs, holding you in place with an unrelenting grip. “You’re not in charge, sweetheart.”
You whimper, your whole body trembling as you fight the urge to grind against his face. But it’s impossible to stay still when he’s licking into you like a man possessed, his mouth working you over with an intensity that has your vision going hazy.
“I know, you're just so damn needy, aren’t you, baby?” He drawls , pulling back just enough to speak, his lips glistening with your arousal. “You love this, hmm? Lettin’ me take care of you?”
You can only nod, words failing you as his fingers replace his mouth, sliding through your spit soaked cunt.
“You’re so goddamn pretty down here.” Logan mutters, almost to himself, spreading your puffy, abused folds obscenely wide.
He teases your entrance, fingertips dipping into your warm heat only to retract a second later. You whine, high and embarrassing as your hips twitch with want.
Logan watches your face closely, his expression equal parts smug and adoring as he finally sinks one thick finger inside you, curling it just right.
“Fuck,” you breathe, your head lolling back he adds a second finger, stretching you in a way that has your toes curling. He pumps them slowly at first, each deliberate thrust sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body.
“Takin’ me so well,” Logan murmurs, his thumb brushes over your clit, drawing tight circles that make your thighs tremble. “So tight and wet for me. You’re makin’ me crazy, darlin’.”
Your moans grow louder, unrestrained, as he picks up the pace, his fingers plunging into you with a rhythm that has your skin burning hotter and hotter.
Logan’s mouth returns to you with renewed fervor, tongue and lips working in perfect tandem as he drags you closer to the edge.
He shakes his head back and forth like an animal, his nose rubbing up against your clit deliciously as buries his tongue as deep in your cunt as it’ll go. The coarse hair of his beard scratches the sensitive skin of your inner thighs red and raw.
You can’t think, can’t breathe, your entire world narrowing down to the feel of his mouth on you.
“Logan—” Your voice cracks, your head falling back against the wall as the spring of pleasure inside you winds tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment. “I’m—fuck—I’m so close—”
“Good,” he growls, pumping his fingers in time with the flicks of his tongue. “I can feel you squeezin’ me. I want you to come for me, baby. Wanna taste every fuckin’ drop.”
You’re powerless to resist.
You cry out, thighs clamping shut on either side of his head as you come on his tongue. Your body shakes so violently you knock a few things off the vanity, the distant sound of glass shattering hardly registers.
Logan growls, low and dragged from the back of his throat in such a way that makes it reverberate in the space between your legs. His own arms come up, grip strong and encouraging as he forces your legs around his head even tighter than before.
He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, licking and sucking and pumping his fingers to drag you through the aftershocks like a man obsessed.
When you finally come back to yourself, panting and trembling, Logan’s holding your shaking thighs apart, his mouth still pressed to you in soft, languid strokes.
“Fuckin’ perfect,” he mutters, voice rough and gravelly as he presses a final kiss to your oversensitive clit.
Logan’s hands slide up to your hips, gripping tight as he rises to his feet, towering over you with that same dark, predatory gleam in his eyes.
His lips are even redder than before, swollen and slick with your juices. His beard is damp and shining in the low light, and the smug, satisfied smirk on his face sends another pulse of heat through your already spent body.
“Good girl,” he purrs, not even bothering to wipe his mouth before leaning in to capture your lips in a kiss that’s all heat and possession.
You can taste yourself on his tongue, the salt and musk mingling with the raw hunger. It’s filthy and intoxicating, and it leaves you gasping for air when he finally pulls away.
But Logan’s far from finished.
His hands slide under your ass, lifting you off the dresser with ease. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively as he carries you to the bed and tosses you on it with little preamble.
Your back hits the mattress hard enough to have you bouncing on it once, twice, three times before Logan is crawling up to blanket your body with his.
The heavy weight of his metal laced bones sink you into the soft plushness, keeping you stuck beneath him with nowhere to go.
Which you know is exactly where he wants you.
He slots his hips between yours, dragging the straining jut of his cock along your sensitive cunt. You can feel the warmth of him even through the thick material of his sweats, a scalding plane of heat that makes your cunt ache with need.
You can feel the damp patch where his clothed tip nudges against your clit, and you know from that alone he’s already soaked through the cotton with pre-come. His cock leaking like a faucet in the harsh confines of his bottoms while he ate you out.
“Feel that?” Logan asks, voice hoarse as he buries his head in your neck. “That’s all ‘cause of you, baby. Got me drippin’ like I busted a damn pipe.”
The sharp intake of air you suck in at his words does nearly nothing to help your breathlessness, your desperation bleeding through as your frantic hands push at the waistband of his bottoms. “Off. Off.”
Logan huffs a rough laugh against your neck, his warm breath skating across your skin as his lips ghost over your pulse. “So fuckin’ bossy.”
He doesn’t move to help you, not right away, savoring the way your hands fumble and tug, your frustration bubbling over in breathy little gasps.
“You want it that bad, huh?” he teases, the rough timbre of his voice a stark contrast to the gentleness of his lips pressing along your jaw. “Look at you, so damn needy. Can’t even wait for me to get my cock out.”
You only tug harder, patience nonexistent as your fingers curl into the waistband. “Please, Logan. Don’t tease.”
“Alright, alright.” Logan finally gives in, sitting back just enough to push them over his hips, freeing his cock.
It springs free, slapping against his stomach heavy and slick with pre-come, the ruddy tip glistening in the low light.
The sight alone has you clenching around nothing, a devastatingly desperate noise falls from your lips as the ache between your thighs builds to an almost unbearable throb.
He makes quick work of ripping his shirt over his head, carelessly tossing it behind him before he’s back on you.
This time, when he bullies his hips in between yours, there's nothing separating you.
You feel every inch of his cock as it grinds along the seam of your cunt. The velvety skin is almost scalding as it drags against your own, the drool of pre-come only adding more to your own wetness.
Logan presses you into the mattress harder, rutting against your cunt almost desperately as he noses along your damp, overheated skin.
His mouth is everywhere. Sucking marks where the junction of your neck meets your shoulder, lapping up the sweat that pools in the valley of your breasts, licking a filthy stripe across the side of your face that has your cheeks burning.
He buries his nose in the sweaty skin of your underarm, whining and panting like a surly dog all over again. Each breath is hot and wet against you, and it only seems to make him hungrier, greedier. His cock blurts even more pre-come onto your skin with every inhale he takes.
It should gross you out.
It should be utterly mortifying, but the sight of Logan like this only leaves you thrumming with want.
His desperation, the raw, unfiltered way he takes you in—like he can’t get close enough, can’t have enough of you—has your pulse racing and your mind spinning out of control.
You feel his nose press harder against your skin, the heat of his breath fanning over you as he groans, a deep, guttural sound that reverberates right through you.
“Fuck,” he rasps, voice gravelly and broken. “You smell so goddamn good. Can’t help it. Can’t fuckin’—” His hips jerk, the weight of his cock sliding slickly against your cunt, bumping up against your clit in a way that makes you shiver.
“Logan,” you whimper, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders, nails digging into his skin. Your hips lift instinctively, chasing the friction, the relief, the unbearable stretch you know only he can give you. “Please, I can’t take it anymore. I need you—need you so bad.”
He smirks, his lips curling against your skin as he nips at the curve of your jaw. “Need me, huh?” he murmurs, his tone dark and teasing. “Need my cock inside you, stretchin’ you open? Tell me, baby. Tell me how bad you need it.”
“So bad.” Your hips tilt up instinctively, desperate for him to push inside. The head of his cock catches at your entrance, the blunt pressure sending a jolt of electricity through your body. “Need you so bad it hurts. Please—please don’t make me wait.”
Logan growls, a feral sound. “Such a good girl when you beg for me.” he snarls, big hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise so he can flip you on your front, gently manhandling you until you're on all fours. “Gonna fill you up, princess.”
His hands knead the soft flesh of your ass as he lines himself up behind you. The weight of his cock presses against your entrance, slick and ready, and for a moment, he just stays there, teasing.
Your arms shake beneath you, elbows locked as you force yourself to stay still, patient.
The head of his cock nudges against you, spreading your slickness, and your body trembles in anticipation. He sinks himself into you in one deep, unrelenting thrust.
The stretch is instant, the burn delicious as he pushes inside, inch by inch, filling you in one fluid, devastating stroke. A choked gasp spills from your lips as he bottoms out, his cock seated so deep you swear you can feel him in your stomach.
“Fuck.” Logan stills, his cock pulsing inside you as he lets you adjust, but the restraint is fleeting.
His hands glide up your back, palms rough and grounding as they map every curve, every quiver of your body. He starts grinding his hips in slow circles, pressing every inch of his cock along your velvety walls.
Your head drops between your arms, brows pinched together as you take in greedy lungfuls of air. You’ll never get used to this, the way Logan fills you so perfectly, no matter how many times it’s been.
“Come on, baby.” Logan leans down to press a soft kiss between your shoulder blades, his lips fever hot. “You wanted to fuck me so bad you could hardly wait. Now’s your chance, fuck me.”
It takes a few long seconds for his words to cunt through the molasses clouding your mind, the small thrust of his hips hinting at what he wants you to do.
You let out a pitiful whimper, hands digging into your bed’s puffy comforter as you start rocking your hips.
You start slow, letting yourself build up a nice, steady rhythm as Logan purrs words of encouragement from behind you. His hands never leave your hips, thumbs rubbing soft circles over your skin as you start to pick up the pace.
“That’s it,” he encourages darkly, giving the rippling muscle of your ass a sharp swat. “Find the fuckin’ spot, baby. Write your name on this cock, tell everyone who it belongs to.”
You cry out at the sting of his palm, bouncing yourself on his length impossibly faster. Your arms burn under the strain of your movements, but you can’t stop chasing the high of pleasure that shoots up your spine.
The sound of skin on skin fills the room, a lewd slap slap slap as you fuck yourself on Logan’s cock like he’s a replacement for the cheap suction cup dildo collecting dust in a box hidden away in your closet—like he’s nothing but a expertly shaped lump of silicon molded solely for your pleasure.
You can feel yourself getting close to the edge, and in nearly no time at all. The telltale coil buried deep in your belly winding tighter and tighter as you work yourself on Logan’s cock hard enough that the cheap frame of your bed thumps against the wall.
It might be embarrassing if you weren’t so far gone already, so fuck drunk that the too loud moans falling from your lips hardly phase you.
It's like there's nothing but the feel of Logan inside you, bumping against that spot inside you that has stars shining behind your closed eyes.
“Close already?” Logan taunts from behind you, voice just the tiniest but breathless, but the way his cock pulses and jerks where it’s sheathed in your cunt lets you know he’s right there with you. “I know you are, honey. I can feel how she’s squeezin’ me, so damn tight.”
His hands dig into your hips, not even waiting for a response as he starts thrusting in time with your bounces. He pounds into you, hips snapping against your ass hard enough to sting.
“Fuck, I’m gonna come too baby,” he bites out, the rhythm of his hips getting sloppier. “Gonna come so fuckin’ hard, fill you up so good. Shit–”
Logan pulls out enough that only the thick tip of his cock stays sheathed in the warmth of your cunt, his body falling to hunch over yours as he pumps his come into you with a feral growl.
You whine at the feeling of his release filling you, painting your insides with spurt after spurt of thick come. It’s so much, it’s always so much. A rush of warmth that floods your insides each time without fail.
And just like that, the feeling alone has you coming.
Your back arches as your cunt gushes over the tip of his cock, drenching his thighs and the rest of his shaft in your essence. You think you may scream, but it’s hard to tell over the white noise rushing through your ears.
Your arms finally buckle under you as Logan helps you ride out the last few tremors of your orgasm with a few slow rocks of his hips, and your spent body collapses onto the mattress.
Logan’s low noises of pleasure barely register as your chest heaves almost violently, your lungs desperately trying to get as much air as they possibly can.
But you barely have time to catch your breath before Logan plants his knees back firmly on the mattress and starts thrusting, again.
“Logan!” Your hands scramble for purchase on the mussed sheets of your bed, the overstimulation making your legs kick out frantically.
“You thought we were done?” Logan asks, his tone equal parts amused and mocking. “You popped twice already, baby. S’only fair that you let me catch up.”
With no warning, he takes you in his arms, pulling his cock out just long enough to flip you on your back. He throws your legs over his shoulders before plunging back inside your fucked open cunt with a filthy squelch.
He feels even bigger like this, yet your body swallows his cock like it’s nothing. The spongy warmth of your walls melding to the shape of him like it’s what you were made for.
The coarse hair of his happy trail drags across your clit each time he thrusts, adding to the blistering feeling where the knife's edge of too much too much too much meets not nearly enough.
His come stuffed in your trembling cunt only makes it all the more filthy, his cock plunging inside you and coming back out slick and wet on every thrust.
Your lips fall open on a broken moan, eyes screwing shut as you work your cunt around him, feeling the way his release gets fucked deeper and deeper inside you.
Logan notices, of course he does.
A dark chuckle rumbles against your own as he leans down enough to whisper into your slack mouth. “You like havin’ someone come in your pussy, baby?”
You moan into his mouth unabashedly, loudly. Both of your eyes burning as tears threaten to fall down the flushed skin of your cheeks, your throat going dry and scratchy in the best way possible.
“Shit–” Your hands claw at the rippling muscles of his back desperately, nails digging into his skin hard enough that you feel the unmistakable slickness of his blood coating the tips of your fingers.
The pain spurs him on, his head tips down on a low groan and his eyes squeezing together for a split second before he’s spewing filth again.
“You want some more?” Logan asks, tone going dark like he already knows the answer as his hips speed up impossible faster. “You want me to come again?”
You don’t respond, you can’t respond. You can barely make a coherent thought.
All you can manage are whiny moans that fall from your slack lips, broken little uh uh uh’s that get punched out with each new thrust. Your nails rake down his back mercilessly, leaving behind deep red welts that heal as you go.
“Yeah, I know you do.” He turns his head to nip at the skin over the delicate bone of your ankle where it bounces near his head, sharp teeth digging in enough to have you whining pitifully. “You love havin’ a messy fuckin’ pussy, don’t you? Love being stuffed so full of my come you can’t even hold it all, huh?”
His words hit you like a physical blow, lighting up your body from the inside out. Your thighs shake where they’re wrapped around his hips, ankles locking over his lower back so he couldn’t pull out if he wanted to.
His come mixes with your juices to coat his cock, completely drenched all slick and shiny in the dull light of your bedroom. It drips down almost leisurely compared to the near feral snap of his hips, trailing all the way down his length to his heavy balls.
“Yes.” He groans, reverent. “Give it to me, baby. Wanna feel you come on my cock again, feels so fuckin’ good. Can’t ever get enough—”
You’ve never heard him like this, so high of pleasure that his speech slurs and his words all meld together into one filthy stream of ramblings that has you sinking your nails even deeper into his back and coming on his cock with a loud wail.
Your cunt convulses around him, shaking with the force of your release, milking him.
“Fuck, princess.” Logan pitches forward, his sweaty torso covering yours as he keeps fucking into your shaking body, desperately chasing his own release.
Finally, with a muted roar of your name, he sinks his teeth into the tender skin of your neck and comes for you.
You cry out at the sharp sting of his teeth bearing down hard enough to draw blood, your vision whiting out with the pleasure of being claimed in every way imaginable.
Logan’s hips only stop when he’s drained of every last drop, his body shaking where it lays over yours. He laps at the broken skin of your neck, a soft gesture that isn’t quite an apology for making you bleed—because you know that he isn’t sorry whatsoever—but it’s nice nonetheless.
Your arms come up to circle around his neck, eyes fluttering shut as the exhaustion hits you all at once. You get lost in the steady rhythm of Logan catching his breath, in the way his heart pounds against his ribcage where his chest is pressed to your own, in the way his fingers twitch and flex on your hips.
The last thing you hear as you drift off, his come starting to leak down your thighs in thick streams of white, is a hushed whisper of “I got you, baby. I’m right here, I’m always right here.”
It puts you at ease, all the worry you felt over the last few weeks slipping from your mind like grains of sand through your fingers.
Maybe, this new side of Logan isn’t so bad after all.
tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!
#— 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘢 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 ♡#ᯓ★ 𝐧𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭!#natalia cant write anything under 1.000 words#hold my hand y’all#and match my freak#thank you#mwah mwah mwah#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#logan howlett fic#logan howlett imagine#logan howlett smut#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#wolverine fic#wolverine imagine#wolverine smut#x men x reader#x men smut#marvel x reader#marvel smut#mcu x reader#mcu smut
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Cross The Line*
Summary: “Harry and Y/N have always had a great professional relationship, all based on one rule; a line they drew the first time they met. But when one day that line accidentally blurs, Harry finds that he doesn’t want it to go back to the way it was…”
Wc: 13k
Tropes: Boss!rry x Secretary!Y/N
Warnings: A LOT of back and forth (this is what Katy Perry wrote hot and cold about), arguing, curse words, smut, dirty talk, degradation, light ch0king, dom/sub dynamics, edging, b0ndage, and recording while… yk🤗
A/N: I’m terribly sorry to have been testing your patience so much the second half of this year, here is a long one shot to say I’m sorry🥲 and I appreciate all of you and I hope you are happy and healthy and will get everything you want in the new year xx💘💘
General Masterlist
HEADER = POV change
Harry's relationship with his secretary is completely normal.
At least, he’s always thought it is.
Sure, it may have seemed more friendly than the usual boss/secretary relationship, but that was only because Y/N was special. She was one of the kind. Smart, stealthy, and sneaky if need be. She did everything he asked for, sometimes before he even realized he should ask her, and was always ready to do more.
Of course, she was attractive as well. Shit, attractive may have even been an understatement. Y/N was drop dead gorgeous and Harry was entirely aware of it. Her ambition made her even sexier, and it's one of the reasons he hired her in the first place.
When Y/N walked through his office door that first time three years ago, he couldn't believe his eyes.
He remembers it like it was yesterday, those wide eyes staring back at him as she froze a couple feet away from him. She was quick to regain herself, though—he had to give her that. But she was nervous as she sat down, even though her movements were calm and the tone of her voice stern. He saw the slightest shake of those hands of her.
Because that job interview hadn't been the first time Harry and Y/N came across each other. It was actually a Halloween party at some high end secretive club in New York one month prior. A night that ended with them hooking up in one of the private lounges.
Even back then, when he never thought he'd see her again, he knew that he would never forget that night, nor the way her face scrunched up as she clenched around him, or the sounds that she made as he drove into her.
He could see that she remembered it as well as she sat across from him that day, but Y/N had quickly made it clear that she was serious about pursuing a career in the film industry. She said she could prove what a great secretary she could be for him, as long as they could put that Halloween night behind them and pretend it never happened. She wouldn't make him regret it, she had told him. He took the chance.
And she had been absolutely right.
Three years had passed and Harry was still thankful to himself for hiring Y/N. She was the best around; fiercely loyal as well. Y/N had been offered jobs by other companies, but she turned down every last one of them. Harry liked to think their relationship played a bit of a part in that as well.
They had become friends—if that's what you could call it—over the years. They had a playful dynamic filled with flirty jokes and random phone calls and favors that blurred that line they had drawn so carefully during Y/N's job interview.
No matter what, Y/N would be the first Harry would call, every time. Whether it was bad business news or a drunken phone call, her number was most likely to be at the top of his last calls. And she always answered, even though she didn't have to. It was a special bond, and while they always danced on it—especially Harry—they never crossed that one line.
Not that Harry needed to. As a matter of a fact, he had quite the adventurous love life. With plenty of people on speed dial and a charming smile that could make anyone's panties drop, Harry wasn't short on romantic escapades. The one thing they all had in common, though, was that it'd never last longer than a few days, and they were rarely ever repeated.
The same couldn't be said for Y/N. In fact, Harry had never seen her with anyone outside of her work, and he never heard her mentioning anything about it...
He didn't know why, but somehow, that thought popped up into his head last Friday as they sat in his office with a drink, celebrating the outstanding reviews that critics had given the newest produced film that was set to premiere next week. Before Harry knew it, he was asking about it.
"Why are you rubbing your temples?" He questioned, watching Y/N massage the side of her head with her eyes closed. He was leaned back in his seat, whiskey in hand as he observed the woman across from him.
"Tension headache." She groaned in response. Despite her grumpiness, Harry couldn't help but grin. What could he say? She was cute when she was grumpy.
"We are literally celebrating, Y/N. What could you possibly be so tense about right now?" He teased, and felt his stomach swirl as a smile painted her lips. She might have rolled her eyes, but she still thought he was funny.
"Oh you have no idea." She mumbled, grabbing her glass and leaning back into her chair. She took a big gulp, her face pulling at the strong taste of the liquor. Harry chuckled.
"You should relax more. Maybe get a hot date to take care of some of that stress for you." He suggested jokingly. Y/N scoffed at the insinuation.
Shaking her head, she said: "I get taken care of just fine, thank you very much."
The equally teasing tone in which she responded caught Harry seriously off guard. Her slight grin pressed down on his chest, and despite having started this joking banter himself, he suddenly didn't find the topic very funny anymore.
"When?"
Y/N locked eyes with her boss. “What?”
"You're here 24/7, when do you even have time to hook up with someone?"
"You know there's this thing called weekends." She joked, but the amusement faded when Harry's mouth didn't even quirk upwards in the slightest bit. It fell quiet for a second or two, and just when Y/N opened her mouth to say something else, someone knocked on the office door.
"Come in."
Harry had said, and soon enough Robin, one of the managers walked in, telling them everyone was going to the pub down the street to celebrate, and if they wanted to come along.
Harry didn't even have the chance to reject the offer—he'd rather spend his nights with his secretary—before Y/N agreed to go along. Feeling obligated, Harry reluctantly gave in as well.
He ended up going home quite early that night, not even properly saying goodbye to Y/N like he normally would before leaving, and he couldn't get the image of her wrapped around another man out of his head the entire ride home. He didn't know why it bothered him so much. Maybe it was the fact that it shouldn't, and more importantly, couldn't bother him, which made it even less bearable.
Whichever reason there may have been for it, he decided to drown out his thoughts by inviting one of his old hook-ups to his house. But even as he drove himself into her as she kept screaming his name, he couldn't stop thinking of Y/N. When she had reached her climax and he began to chase his own high—Harry was caught off guard by Y/N's face flashing through his mind, and extremely embarrassed when those images triggered his orgasm.
The next week is awkward, to say the least. It started out Monday, when Harry could barely look Y/N in the eye. She had received the sudden cold shoulder pretty well, but Harry still felt horrible about it. His attitude got less stiff throughout the week, but it was still bad.
By the time Thursday rolls around again, Harry still hasn't had the chance to get that weird feeling out of his system. So when he approaches his office and spots Y/N behind her desk smiling at him, a wave of guilt washes over him.
He curses himself as he sinks into his desk chair, absentmindedly turning on his laptop. What is he doing? Y/N is his assistant. He shouldn't let his protectiveness of her get the best of him. He does not want to lose her in any way.
Harry flinches when there is a knock on his door. He looks up, finding Y/N standing in his doorway. Immediately, he signals for her to come in. She seems a bit nervous as she nears him, and considering she's never been nervous around him, his heart sinks at the idea that the cold shoulder he's been giving her the other night might have affected her way more than he thought.
He just doesn't know how to behave instead.
"You have a meeting in conference room C in five minutes. It's the banker's son who's been proposing his script for the past year. I know your schedule is tight, especially with the premiere coming up, but I thought you might as well get it over with." She says, putting a stack of papers on the table that Harry can only assume is the script. He nods, quirking up the corner of his mouth.
"Thank you, smart thinking." The praise falls from his lips in a casual manner, and he doesn't miss the way she physically relaxes at the positive reinforcement. She nods at him, and turns back to the door. Right before she is about to leave the office, she turns around again. Harry leans back in his seat, waiting to hear what she'll say.
"I'm sorry if I overstepped last week." She says, and Harry frowns at the apology.
"What?"
"I clearly said something that ticked you off." She explains,her shoulders slumping slightly. "I know we joke around, but I was afraid that maybe I'd accidentally crossed a line—“
"Y/N, stop it." Harry interrupts her, getting up from his seat. Her lips are locked within a second, and she stares at her boss with wide eyes. His stomach twists at the sight of it. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"But— if I said something inappropriate then I want to apologize for it." She says, straightening her posture again, biting her bottom lip so he won't see it quiver. As if he doesn't know the way her body works. As if he hasn't known for three years.
Putting his hands inside his pockets, Harry walks around his desk and stands in front of her. A little closer than he needs to, and yet not as close he would like.
"Let me ask you this: How many times have you declined booty calls for me?" He asks, tilting his head a bit. A slight smile appears on Y/N's face, and she pretends to think it over.
"Twenty-seven." Her smile crinkles her eyes, making them even more glassy. Harry quite literally feels his hand itch to touch her face, but he keeps it sternly in his pocket. "I kept track so I could count all the reasons you definitely won't get into heaven."
At that, he lets out a snort. Y/N can't help but chuckle too, and slowly but surely the weirdness dissolves from the room. When the laughter has died down, she speaks up again.
"So... we're good?"
"We're good." Harry smiles at his secretary, and his chest heats up when he spots the faint blush that appears on her cheeks. Jesus Christ, did she become even more beautiful than she was yesterday or was he just too stupid to notice earlier? Probably the latter.
"Well in that case you need to leave because your meeting is like, right now." She reminds him, and he hums in agreement as he gets up from his seat and walks towards the door with Y/N.
"Already gone, love." He winks at her, walking out the door with a lot more confidence in his relationship with Y/N. Maybe everything can go back to normal again. Maybe he was just exaggerating when he couldn't get her out of his head this weekend. Perhaps it was just a glitch, a temporary error in his brain that had come and gone in a flash.
That must've been it, he tells himself as he makes his way to conference room C. He takes a deep breath, musters a polite smile, and opens the door to the room. Harry already knows this guy is going to be wasting his time, but he made a promise to hear him out, so he will.
The guy sitting at the table is the stereotypical spoiled rich son. When John Longwell—a long-time business partner of Harry's— asked him to revise his son's script as a favor, Harry told him he'd do it if he ever found the time. He always hoped John's son would lose interest and forget about the script by the time Harry could find a free space in his agenda, but unfortunately that hadn't been the case.
And although the arc of the story had sounded absolutely horrendous— something about zombies fueled by a brainwashing radio song, which didn't even make sense to Harry because zombies don't have brains—he couldn't back out anymore. So he needs to get it over with, starting now.
Harry loudly shuts the door.
The guy—whose name he can't really remember at the moment—flinches and turns around, a big grin on his face as he gets up from his seat.
"Mr. Styles, it's a pleasure to see you." The man says, extending his hand, which Harry, in turn, takes. He only gives a slight nod before heading over to the other side of the table and sitting down.
"So, where's your script?" Harry asks, eyeing the empty table. The guy looks flustered, opening his mouth to say something, but the opening of the door interrupts that. Harry leans back in his seat when he spots his secretary walk through it, not even eyeing the other guy as she struts over to him and lays the printed out script on the glass table.
"Sorry, you forgot this. It was still on your desk." She says, finally turning to the man to throw him an innocent smile. His sheepish grin satisfies her enough to turn back to her boss and focus all her attention on him. "I also forgot to ask you— do you want to move up lunch today?"
The corner of Harry's mouth tugs up. Over the last three years, the concept of 'moving up lunch' has become a code for 'should I get you out of this early?'. Y/N came up with it a long time ago, and it has stuck ever since.
"Yes, I would very much like that. Thank you, Y/N." He says, and the way a smirk slowly creeps onto her face makes the hairs on his body rise.
"It's my pleasure, Mr. Styles." She gives one final nod before walking out of the room and closing the door behind her. Harry would lie if he said he didn't let his eyes fall onto the way her hips moved as she strolled away.
Unfortunately the fun doesn't last long, and with the slam of the door Harry is reminded that he still has to sit through this meeting a little longer. He looks down at the script.
"A Thousand Zombies
By Jason Longwell."
Right, Jason, that was his name.
"Jesus Christ, if that were my secretary I'd have her bent over my desk all day. How do you get any work done?" Jason breathed out, grinning like a stupid fucking schoolboy. Harry quite literally felt the storm cloud that came floating right above his head the second he heard that incompetent loser say those words. His hands balled up into fists at the suggestive comment, knuckles getting whiter by the second.
"Get out." Harry growls. John raises his eyebrows, looking around him as if Harry couldn't have possibly been addressing it to him.
"W— what?" He stumbles.
"I don't do business with insolent idiots. Get out." Harry repeats, getting up from his seat and buttoning his suit jacket. John follows his movements, anger starting to cloud on his face.
"What the fuck did you just call me?" He exclaims in a failed attempt to sound intimidating. At least, Harry assumes that's what he's trying to do.
"I called you an idiot. Now, get the hell out of my face before I boot your sorry ass right to the front door." With one brow raised, he waits as John tries to muster a response until he eventually gives up and storms out of the room. Harry throws the script into the trash as he walks out of the conference room half a minute later. Y/N is immediately by his side.
"That was quick, I didn't even have time to think of an emergency." She jokes as they walk back to Harry's office together. He raises a brow.
"Yes you did. What was it this time? Food poisoning?" He guesses, holding the door to his office open once they've reached it. Y/N grins as she walks past him and takes a seat at one of the chairs in front of his desk.
"Actually, your car was going to get stolen in about five minutes." She responds, the blush of her cheeks revealing the slight embarrassment of having to voice this excuse out loud. Harry's eyes widen as he walks over to his desk, feeling his assistant watching his every move. He quite likes the feeling.
"No way." He laughs. "You just get more creative by the day."
"What can I say, I'm good at crisis management." She shrugs, crossing her legs and getting into a more comfortable position on the chair. Harry tries his best to not let his eyes float to her legs.
"That you are." He murmurs, the huskier sound of his voice giving a different ambiance to the conversation. As Harry feels the mood switch, he curses himself. Why did he have to ruin it?
Y/N clears her throat. "Anyway— why'd the meeting end early?"
"It ended early because Jason Longwell is a sleazy douchebag." He responds shortly, straightening in his seat in an attempt to gain control of the situation again. He can't let himself slip like this again, and she can't know the real reason he kicked out Jason. But there is no denying the sheer rage that boils his blood when that comment flashes through his memory. He hates that the asshole thought he could just speak about Y/N like that.
"Ooh, what did he say when you kicked him out?" Y/N asks eagerly, still in a playful mood. "You did kick him out right?"
"I don't have time to get into this right now. I need to sign those contracts that were sent in yesterday before I go home." Harry says sternly, avoiding eye contact with Y/N as he speaks, but he still sees the slump in her shoulders at his sudden shift in attitude.
"Right, of course." She immediately returns to the responsible secretary she always is, getting up from her seat. He hears her exit the room, heels clacking against the wooden floor. As soon as the door has shut, Harry throws his head back in frustration.
So much for going back to normal.
Playing into the teasing will only rope him further into that forbidden fantasy, and he clearly won't be able to stop himself from resisting her if he does. But he's the one who started all the playfulness, massively screwing himself over he realizes now. If he shifts his behavior, she's always going to think he's mad at her because of something. But he's going to have to, because Harry can't go back to normal anymore.
Deciding he needs to clear his head, Harry grabs his coat and heads for the elevators without so much as a word. He pretends not to notice the way people's eyes widen when he walks by, suddenly on their best behavior, and although it used to give him an ego boost back when he started, nowadays he just prefers it if people aren't scared of him.
It turns out to be a particularly nice outside for a winter day in London. Not to get it twisted— it's still freakishly cold. It's just that the sun has replaced the endless rain of this entire month. Harry suppresses a chuckle at the irony of the sun finally being out at the very first moment where he's felt so shitty in a long time.
He doesn't know how long he's outside, so he knows it's not fair to be frustrated when he comes back and Y/N isn't at her desk, but he can't help the slight distress that washes over him at the empty seat.
"It's just a date—"
"Your second date!"
Harry creased brows don't do much to hide his feelings when he turns around to see his secretary with a co-worker. The shy smile on her face—accompanied with that blush on her cheeks she always gets when she's secretly giddy about something—disappears at the sight of her boss looking at her like she just killed a puppy.
"Ha— Mr. Styles." She is quick to catch her almost error. Her wide eyes bore into his, filled with confusion and worry. But Harry's frown doesn't give away much, aside. From the fact that he is obviously annoyed.
"I was looking for you." He states stoically, not even acknowledging the employee that is standing next to her. The woman takes the hint and gives Y/N and Harry a small nod before walking away. As soon as she does, Harry turns around and walks towards his own office. He can hear her footsteps following him inside, and with the inconsistent clacking against the floor he can tell she's having a hard time keeping up with his long strides. Still, he doesn't slow his pace.
"I need the papers for the donations printed out and on my desk. And I'll need you to move the meeting with the director of the romance movie to Tuesday evening."
"Yes, of course." The breathy response falls from Y/N's lips the second he finishes his sentence, and by the time he enters his office, she is long gone to do exactly what he asked. Harry shuts the door a little louder than intending to, accidentally shaking the framed artwork on the wall.
Y/N isn't very talkative for the rest of the day, that usual spark of hers seemingly having dimmed. Harry's chest is heavy, knowing his cold attitude was the catalyst for that, but he keeps it up nonetheless. He can't help himself from falling back into it every time he sees her face.
A date. She's going on a date. A second one at that. He can't believe it. Is this who she referred to when she said she gets taken care of? His stomach churns at the possibility.
He tries not to, but Harry still gets warped into the spiral of overthinking about 'date' Y/N has tonight. So much, in fact, that he almost doesn't notice the time flying by until Y/N knocks on his door at 6PM. Harry spots the coat that hangs over her desk chair, and he realizes the work day is over.
"Everything is done for the day and ready for next week. I also sent the papers about the donations with a courier who owed me a favor, so the documents are signed on both parts and the donations will be officially registered by Monday." She explains, hands behind her back. Her new shy behavior—while quite endearing—is excruciating to see. She had always been comfortable around Harry, until now. Until he had to ruin it for the both of them.
"Thank you." Harry gives her a firm nod.
"No problem." She responds a bit awkwardly. "So... I'm going to clock out for the day."
Y/N has already turned around by them time Harry's voice croaks out a 'no'. She whips her head towards her boss, head tilted as she awaited whatever it was that he was going to say.
"I need those contracts for that romance movie." He says before he can even comprehend his words.
"But you won't be negotiating that deal for another two weeks." Y/N retorts, her tone more stern than usual. He can tell she's tired.
"I don't care. I want them on my desk tonight." He holds his head high, despite knowing damn well what he's doing.
He's stalling. Long enough for... he doesn't know actually. For her to cancel her date? It sounds ridiculous now that he really thinks about it.
"Harry, I have an appointment tonight—"
"I said I don't care. I pay you to do as I ask. This is not something you can argue me on." He grumbles. With how Y/N's jaw is clenched, he can't say the same for her attitude. Without another word, she leaves the office.
Harry's worry begins to grow every minute that passes with Y/N out of sight. But when she returns with a stack of papers in her hand after a bit—seven minutes to be exact—that worry evolves into surprise. Walking over to his desk, she plops the papers on them a bit carelessly before speaking up.
"I had them made on Monday because I like to be a few steps ahead." She elaborates. "Now, if that's all, I'm going home."
Y/N doesn't even say goodbye when she grabs her coat and walks to the elevators. Harry sighs to himself, not knowing how the hell he should handle this. It takes him a few seconds before he realizes he really can't do this anymore. He needs to talk to her, if only just to clear the air.
And so, he gets up from his seat and hurries after his assistant.
He catches her just as she walks into an empty elevator, and he joins just before the doors close. Her knitted brows make it clear that she is not in the mood to talk to him.
"I'm sorry... about the documents." Harry confesses, but she doesn't face him. It stays quiet between them for a bit, until the biting sentence falls from Y/N's lips.
"You said we were good."
His heart cracks at her wobbly voice. He can't believe he made her feel this way. If any other person would've brought her to tears, he would've beaten the shit out of them. He reaches for her arm.
"W— we are." He lies. It's the biggest lie he's ever told her, and she knows it, because she immediately turns around.
"No we're not! I said I was sorry if I did something wrong, and you told me it was okay, and now all of a sudden you're being so... cold. I don't understand—" her eyes become glassy. "I don't understand what I did wrong."
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Harry opens his mouth, ready to spout out his apologies, when Y/N's phone starts to ring. It takes them out of their little trance, and Y/N fumbles around her jacket for a bit until she's finally found her phone. He can't see who's calling her, but it can't be an expected call if he has to judge by the expression on her face.
"Marco, why are you—" her eyes widen at whatever the voice on the other side of the line is telling her, and Harry subconsciously finds himself leaning in a bit in the hope to find out what's wrong.
"What?" Y/N breathes. Her voice is small, and it sounds defeated, tired. The elevator dings, signaling they're downstairs, but Y/N doesn't move, so Harry doesn't either. She seems to notice and lets out a huff before storming out of the confined space and pacing around the lobby.
"You said we had a green light! That was months ago, Marco! Did you even—" She growls, clutching at her phone so hard Harry is afraid she's going to break it. "You know what, never mind. Give me his number."
The Marco guy seems to say something that he really shouldn't have said, because with the way Y/N's face twists Harry swears he can see steam coming out of her ears
"I don't care that they're not answering, I'll make them answer. Give me their numbers and then go find them." She orders before ending the call. And although the thought really shouldn't be crossing his mind right now, Harry can't help but notice how attractive Y/N is when she's mad. He shakes off the thought, telling himself that's the last thing he should be paying attention to right now.
Y/N paces around one more time, cursing under her breath, before striding past Harry and pushing the elevator buttons like a maniac.
"What's going on?"
Y/N shakes her head. "N— nothing. Just a little hiccup that could've easily been prevented. I won't be long."
Harry raises a skeptical brow, but she doesn't dare to meet his eye. She's lying through her teeth.
"Y/N—"
"Harry, really, it's nothing. I'm taking care of it." She tries to convince him, but he notices the way her hands are slightly trembling. "I'm sorry I was unprofessional. You're my boss. It's my job to take your orders, not question them."
Wait, no.
That aching feeling fills his stomach. His entire body, for that matter. He doesn't want her to be a silent and compliant assistant. That's not why he hired her. He needs someone to push back, to joke around with. Shit— what has he done?
Harry finds himself speechless as she enters the elevator and pushes the button of the seventh floor; the office. His brain isn't fast enough to think of what to say before the doors shut and the elevator ascends.
His feet stay glued to the ground as he ponders, his mind reeling like a rollercoaster. Frustration fills his body to his every finger tip. Everything has gone wrong, and he has no idea how to make it better.
At least ten minutes must've gone by by the time that a concierge taps Harry on the shoulder to ask him if he's okay. Still a bit wary, he nods before excusing himself and leaving the building.
Everything is going wrong.
Leaning over the desk with her face buried between her arms, Y/N is unable to hold back the tears that glide over her cheeks.
First, her boss gets mad at her, and she has no idea why. Then, just when they seemed to be okay again, he changed his attitude up again. And what does she do instead of letting it go? She starts a fight. And now Marco drops a disastrous bomb in her lap that could entirely ruin the movie premiere on Sunday. And if that wasn't enough—and she really thinks it was—this sudden crisis caused her to cancel her date of tonight.
It wasn't anything special, really. Y/N had met Jamie a few weeks ago, and they went out last week. He was a nice guy, handsome too, and she thought he was perfect for a short lived affair. Besides, her vibrator just couldn't live up to her fantasies. She was human, she needed to get off every now and then too. It was like Y/N had this itch in need of scratching, one she hadn't been able to reach in what felt like years.
But that wasn't going to happen now. In fact, she was risking being fired if she didn't solve this problem as soon as possible.
Damn! She really thought she had kept it all together, despite the extreme business this year. She thought she'd done a good job.
But that was a lie, because if she had done a good job, Marco wouldn't have ever gotten into the position where an artist on the soundtrack could manipulate the contract they signed. Y/N had told Marco to make it airtight, already having been suspicious of the artists' integrity from the moment they became part of the soundtrack. She assumed that they would try something.
'Chain' was an up and coming band known for their indie sound, but Y/N would just describe them as two pricks. Not only had they been subtly demeaning to her when Harry met with them, barely acknowledging her existence, they were arrogant as well. They came in expecting a lot more money than Harry and the rest of the company were willing to give them. It was absurd that they expected such a big number, but their cocky attitude didn't fade throughout the meeting.
It was truly a favor to the director, why Harry worked so hard to compromise with Chain. The director had been so passionate about the movie, and he had really wanted the song. If one thing was important to Harry, it's that there went passion onto the projects he produced and invested in. So, he decided to help, and eventually managed to struck a deal with the singers. It was still way above the pay grade they should've got—in Y/N's opinion—but they agreed.
Having seen first hand how greedy those two were, she had told Marco—the guy who handled all the legal documents—to make that contract airtight. She demanded to look it over, but because of her busy schedule, she let Marco have another lawyer look at it before sending the contract.
And now, because of a lazy mistake Chain's lawyer found, they are demanding more money or they'll waive their rights to the music. Something which would be absolutely detrimental because the entire climax of the movie, the cinematography and timing are all tuned to the song.
If she doesn't find a way to solve this problem, this entire premiere could fall apart, and it would all be her fault. She gave the green light to Harry, who gave it to the director. It's all her fault.
She should've fucking read that contract herself, then this would've never happened.
Between Harry being mad at her, the fact that she was in her luteal phase, and this sudden disaster, the tears began streaming down her face, and the soft crying only turned into full on sobs the more she tries to calm herself down.
She allows herself the mental breakdown, but when she begins to regain control of her breath again after a few minutes, Y/N decides that it's enough. She has a job to get done, and no one was going to swoop in and save her.
So, she starts making call after call, ringing everyone in the immediate vicinity of the two arrogant bastards. It's crucial she reaches them before the night is over. Only forty minutes have passed by the time she is on the seventh person, but it feels like an eternity nonetheless.
She flinches when, while trying to reach Chain's tour manager, the elevator door dings and a shadow nears. Her tense shoulders sink a little bit at the sight of Harry, glad it's not some creep. Her brows crease as she watches him walk towards her. He's carrying a couple of bags with... is that food? It sure smells like it.
When the call goes to voicemail—for the third time—Y/N puts down the phone and gets up from her seat, hurrying over to her boss and stopping him before he could reach her desk.
"What are you doing here?!" She asks, blocking his way. He lifts the bags, a subtle, apologetic smile on his face.
"I brought food—" He looks up at her, and his eyes darken as soon as he takes in her face. "Have you been crying?"
Y/N raises her hands to her face, quickly glancing at the ground while she wipes her cheeks before meeting his eyes again. Harry puts the bags down, and it feels like her heart skips a beat or two when his thumbs stroke the skin under both her eyes. He leaves his hand around her face, cupping her jaw while he stares at her with such a piercing pain in his eyes that it makes Y/N's eyes water altogether again.
"What's wrong?" His voice is soft, and the feel of his big, warm hands holding her is comforting her in a way she hasn't experienced in a quite some time. Y/N only focused on his chest, afraid that the welled up water in her eyes will spill out again the second she looks at her boss. She told herself the crying was over, so why wasn't she able to control herself?
A few seconds pass, and silence runs between the thick air that makes it nearly impossible to breathe normally. Then, Y/N feels the slight pressure of Harry's hands, inching her head upwards. Automatically, her gaze flicks to that of her boss, and when she sees the worry on his face, a tear escapes her eye. His thumb catches it before it has the chance to roll down all the way down her cheek.
"I messed up." She only says, closing her eyes in shame. Harry says nothing, only letting out a sigh as he continues to caress her cheek.
Suddenly, the phone rings. Y/N reluctantly backs away from Harry's touch, and runs over to her desk to pick up the phone.
"Hello?" She says, her voice laced with such desperation that she internally cringes at it.
"Y/N? It's Marco. I found them, they're at a studio just outside the city."
She hums, grabbing a pen. "Give me the address."
"No, I'm going. This is my mess, Y/N, I'm not going to let you clean it up." Marco croaks from the other side of the line, and Y/N feels his voice tug at her heartstrings.
"Marco, listen to me. This is as much my fault as it is yours. I should've read the damn thing and notice the mistake." She replies, leaning over her desk to grab her coat.
"Y/N, I'll take care of it, okay? I found a fault in their loophole, they're stuck. Let me handle this. You just go home and enjoy what's left of your evening I ruined—" Marco tells her. "Wait, didn't you have a date tonight? Oh my god, did I ruin your date?"
"I did... but it's alright. It probably wouldn't have worked out with him anyway." Y/N chuckled awkwardly and glanced towards Harry, who looked weirdly annoyed at what she said.
"I'm so sorry, I promise I'll make it up to you." Marco shares the desperate plea.
"You can make it up to me by giving me the address of the studio." Y/N tells him cheekily.
"Y/N..." he warns.
"What? I promise I'm going home. It's just so I know where you are." She lies. Y/N is a good liar, except in front of Harry. Having a tendency to get nervous, she always betrays herself. She's lucky that this is a phone call, otherwise Marco would've known she wasn't planning on going home at all.
Hesitantly, he gives her the address, which she immediately writes down on her hand.
"Okay, thank you Marco. Good luck." She says, hanging up the phone with a lot more confidence than ten minutes ago. She can feel Harry staring her down as she puts on her coat, clearly waiting for an explanation for this whiplash-like behavior.
"I really have to go."
Harry shrugs. "I'll give you a ride. You can explain everything to me on the way to your house."
Y/N shakes her head, walking towards her boss. "No, really, you don't have to."
"Yes I do." Harry argues.
"You really don't."
"Do you have a problem with me bringing you home, Y/N?" He asks as if he's dumb, as if he doesn't know she's secretly trying to go to that studio.
"No!" She is quick to protest.
"Or does it have anything to do with the address of that mysterious studio you've written on your hand?" He teases, and Y/N clenches her jaw in frustration.
"I just— I need to make sure it's handled." She sputters. Harry shrugs.
"From what I heard it's being handled just fine." He points out. "You've got to learn to let things go sometimes, Y/N."
She shakes her head, looking the floor. "I can't. Not with this."
Harry lowers his head, trying to get on the same eye-level as her and searching for her eyes. "Why not?"
"I told you; I messed up." Her voice quivers as she tells Harry the truth. "There was a mistake in the contract with Chain. Somehow they found a loophole, and now they want more money or they'll waive the rights to their song."
"What?!" Harry growls, exactly like Y/N anticipated he'd react. God, he's going to fire her any moment.
"It's my fault. It was a reference mistake I could've easily spotted if I had taken the time to revise it." She admits, feeling extremely shameful of her lazy actions.
"What are you talking about? This is the legal team's fault, they should've seen that damned mistake! It's not in your job description to revise a contract, it's not your responsibility. It's not your fault, Y/N." He explains. She sucks in a breath, his words hitting her harder than she expected. Heart aching, the one sentence rings in her head.
It's not your fault.
That couldn't be true, could it? She was responsible for this deal, and for Harry. She should've seen this coming, even though she couldn't have possibly known. Did she not always pride herself in having this sixth sense, in being ahead of everyone else? What was she without that? What was she if not the best at the one thing that made her special, that set her apart from the crowd. What was she worth without that invincibility?
"You revise every contract, don't you?"
Her eyes flick towards her boss. She doesn't say anything, but the answer is hidden in her pupils. And it seems Harry can read them like an open book. "How long have you been doing that?"
"Two years." Y/N stammers, her arms crossed as if it will keep her body from revealing whatever her mouth won't. Harry just lets out a breathy chuckle before pulling her into his arms, taking her into a sweet embrace. With his chin leaning on her head, Y/N takes the opportunity to bury her face in his chest, trying not to bask too much in the heavenly scent of his cologne.
"Remind me to give you a raise." He jokes in a soft whisper, earning a sniff of laughter from Y/N.
For a while it seems like everything that tore her down, including what went down between her and Harry, didn't exist anymore. There was just him and her, their embrace and a distant ticking clock, the only indicator of time passing. Yet it felt like the world stopped, or slowed down at least, being in Harry's arms like that. And suddenly, that itch that she hadn't been able to scratch in so long, it felt like it was soothed by a stroking hand instead, and in a way it fulfilled her. It just so happened to be a way she did not expect.
The initial shock at the realization—this puzzle piece that suddenly clicked—made Y/N back away. She clears her throat, fiddling with her hands.
"They're supposed to be at this studio right outside the city. It's only twenty minutes away by car. I just need to be sure." She announces. Harry grabs the bags of food he put down before placing his hand on her lower back and guiding the both of them back to the elevator.
"We'll take my car." He states, and although Y/N can tell by his tone that Harry expects there to be no talking back, but she just can't help herself.
"Harry, I told you I can take a cab." She suggests as they wait for the elevator door to open. Harry doesn't respond as he guides them both into the small space and pushes the button for the ground floor. When the door closes, he turns to her, looking down at her with such an intimidating stare that Y/N feels like she's shrinking.
"And I told you: we're taking my car." He says sternly, his low voice twisting her stomach in an interesting way. When Y/N goes to open her mouth again, Harry lays his finger on her lips. He hums in disapproval, shaking his head.
"I was being clear, right?" He asks rhetorically. His gaze sweeps over her mouth before settling on her eyes again. Not daring to speak another word, let alone breathe, Y/N only nods in response.
"Good." Harry responds, a cocky smirk framing his face as he strolls out of the elevator, leaving Y/N breathless and in a slight trance. Blinking a few times, she comes back to her sense and hurries after her boss.
Richard has always been a master at reading people, and this time is no exception. The second he began driving, he raised the partition, leaving Harry and Y/N with some privacy.
Harry really has a knack for hiring the right people.
The first few minutes of the car ride are silent, and Harry spends it observing Y/N as she picked at her nail beds, frantically looking at of the window as if it would make the car move faster. She has so much tension inside that little body of hers; she is clearly in need of a distraction.
"I think I'm jealous."
Y/N's head whips to him, brows raised at the sudden confession. Her body turns with her, knees now in Harry's direction as she leans back into the seat, getting comfortable as she lays close attention.
"Of me?" She asks, utterly confused. She seems very lost, not really connecting the dots. Harry doesn't blame her; that confession was quite out of the blue.
"Of whoever gets to take care of you."
Pure silence. Harry swears he could hear a pin drop. Y/N stares at him like a deer in headlights, probably having no idea what to say or do or think. She gulps.
"What?" Her voice is so soft that he almost doesn't hear her, but since all his focus is on her, he doesn't miss it. Letting out a breath, he leans forward, placing a hand on her thigh. His face inches closer and closer until their mouths are mere inches away from each other. Checking for her reaction with every small movement, he can't help but notice how she doesn't stray away from him. In fact, she leans in, causing their lips to brush against each other.
"The idea of another man touching you, having you, it makes my fucking blood boil." He says, voice hoarse. Her eyes frantically search every last inch of his face, looking for something she seemingly can't find. Perhaps she's attempting to find the usual playfulness that always accompanies any conversation that blurs that line between them. In that case, she could keep looking forever and ever, because he is dead serious. Fuck how it used to be and fuck whatever's right or wrong.
And most of all, fuck that line, because he's crossing it.
Harry closes the small gap between them, trying to suppress the moan that threatens to work up his throat at the sole feeling of her lips against his. What a fucking idiot he was for ever agreeing to forget about that Halloween night. Not that he ever truly did forget about it. Besides her obvious competencies, hiring Y/N was a way of keeping her where he seemed to like her best from the moment they met; close to him.
With that thought in mind, he wraps his hand around her face and pulls her closer. She complies, clicking her seatbelt free to move further towards Harry when he slips his tongue inside.
Their mouths move against each other like it's both the first time and the hundredth time they've done this. So familiar and yet it's like nothing he ever felt before. A sensation so different from three years ago, one so heavy and laced with a detail his brain can't quite seem to grasp. Deep down, he knows what it is, he just can't quite lay his finger on it.
But his body can, and it does, and so does Y/N's, because her grinding against him is exactly what he needs. His hand sneaks around her neck, lips curling into a smile at the familiarity of the curves of her neck and the identical moan that falls from her lips just as it did three years ago.
Harry groans when the car suddenly stops and Y/N falls forward a little bit, the friction against his trousers being a bit too much to bear at the moment. Slowly, the partition lowers, and without so much looking at them through the mirror, Richard speaks up.
"We've arrived."
Wrong. Harry clearly hasn't.
Before Harry can catch his breath, Y/N can get off his lap, and either one can even answer, the partition rises again. Immediately, Y/N throws her face into Harry's neck.
"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god." She wheezes out in pure, utter shame. Harry shakes his head, a faint grin on his face. He would have been laughing his ass off if he wasn't so painfully hard right now. Instead, he only pats Y/N's back, telling her it's fine. She groans and opens the car door.
"No it's not! God, I will never be able to look him in the eye again!" She says, punching the bridge of her nose. Harry shuts the door and grabs Y/N's waist, pulling her towards him. She stumbles into his chest. He lifts her face with his fingers, forcing her to look up at him.
"You're going to have to, because I don't want to fire him." He jokes, and Y/N bites her lip to keep her smile from growing too wide. Not wanting to give Harry the satisfaction that he made her laugh, she looks to the side, but her face expression falls quickly.
"This is not my apartment." She notes, looking at the huge building next to her. "This is yours."
Harry nods.
"I can't be at your apartment, I have to—" Y/N stops herself before she can say more. But Harry already knew what she was going to say. Playfully, he raises a brow.
"You have to... what?"
"To... I have to—"
"Sneak out to that studio?" He finishes her sentence, and her eyes widen. She tries to regain herself but her cheeks are flushed and there is nothing she can do anymore. He's got her. "Yeah, that's not going to happen."
With that, he places a hand on her lower back and guides her towards his building. She stumbles a bit, but eventually catches onto the pace. But her body language is apprehensive, looking back at the road where Richard is standing. Or well, was standing. Harry ordered him to drive away as soon as they got out of the car.
Still, she turns around in a quick motion, trying to get to a cab. Harry's arm catches her, however, and he pulls her back against his chest. Along with his other hand, he turns her around, catching sight of her big eyes boring into his.
"Don't try me." He speaks slowly, dipping his head down until he finds himself inches away from Y/N. "You know what happens if you try me."
His voice is lower than before, having flipped a switch now that her mouth has been on his. He got a taste for the first time in years, he wasn't going to let her get away now. Y/N's breath hitches, eyes flicking down to his mouth.
Knowing he's got her right where he wants her, Harry pulls back and strolls toward the entrance of his apartment building. Soon enough, he hears those heels behind him and he smirks.
It's silent when they step in the elevator, and for the first few seconds, as Harry leans agains't the wall and observes his secretary, it stays that way. She eyes him a couple of times, her ears getting redder.
"What?" She breathes out, looking down at her body like there must be something wrong if he's looking at her for so long. He simply shrugs.
"Nothing. Just admiring you."
At that, Y/N vigorously shakes her head and crosses her arms. A soft scoff leaves her mouth, one she didn't think Harry would hear, but he did. He takes a few steps towards Y/N, inching her against the wall.
"You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?" He asks sincerely, searching for her eyes. When she finally looks up at him, the nervous smile on her face fades a bit.
Harry doesn't like that look on her face. Needing to fix it, he leans forward and plants his lips on hers again, grabbing her face and pulling her into him. It only takes a matter of seconds before her arms are wrapped around his neck and their bodies are impossibly close to each other again.
Tongues delving deeper into each other's mouth, Harry feels himself floating on some sort of feeling. Despite not being able to define it, he is absolutely positive that he doesn't ever want it to stop. And since kissing Y/N causes this specific feeling, the only feasible option is to never stop kissing her. It's the best plan he's had in ages.
It doesn't take long before the situation gets heated, much like it did before, and Harry's hands trail to Y/N's hips to pull her against him. Desperate for any sort of relief, Harry's hips automatically start to move, and Y/N immediately responds. His body feels like it's on fire, and he tries not to let out any sounds as his strained cock rubs against his tight pants.
Harry takes his lips off Y/N's mouth, peppering kisses to her jaw instead. Slowly, he works his way towards her ear, where he stops to whisper in her ear.
"I'm going to remind you how fucking beautiful you are." The hot breath that left his mouth had her shuddering against him, a slight whine escaping her lips. As he leaves sloppy kisses on Y/N's neck, Harry's free hand slowly travels under her shirt, finding her bra.
She gasps softly when his hand starts to massage her breast, the sensitivity of both spots leaving her hot and bothered under Harry. Fuck, she is so fucking stunning, how did she not see it herself?
Suddenly, the elevator stops, and the door opened. Taking a step back, Harry only winks at Y/N before he turns around and strolls out as if it's a casual Friday. As if he doesn't have his secretary, whom he left high and dry, trailing behind him like a lost puppy.
"Would you like something to drink?" He asks when they enter his home, Harry immediately going into the kitchen.
"Absinthe." Y/N breathes out, leaning over the kitchen island. Harry peeks inside his fridge.
"I only have white wine."
Y/N shrugs. "I'm sure it'll have the same effect if I just keep drinking."
Harry chuckles, grabbing the bottle of wine and placing it on the counter. He walks to a cabinet and takes two wine glasses out of it. Placing one in front of Y/N and the other in front of himself, he opens the bottle and starts pouring, not stopping until the glasses are halfway full. Y/N laughs at the ridiculously full wine glass that he pushes her way, but takes it gladly. He doesn't miss the way her breasts nearly spill out of her top as she leans forward a bit further than intended to in order to grab the glass.
"To the unexpected." She says it like it's a dare. Amused, Harry decides to entertain it, and nods his head.
"To the unexpected."
They raise the glasses before both taking a long sip. Y/N rests her arms on the table, giving a perfect view of her tits right in Harry's frame. She smirks when his eyes accidentally fall on it, and Harry's stomach swirls with excitement. She's trying to play.
"Crazy, how fast life can change, isn't it?" She asks rhetorically, and Harry just hums, waiting patiently for her to reveal what she's trying to do. "I mean, I got up today thinking I'd end the day in another man's bed."
There it is.
She's always been smart, and she knows how to push Harry's buttons. Though his fingers grip the kitchen counter tightly, so much that his knuckles turn white, Harry keeps the corners of his mouth lifted.
"And now you're here." He says, head tilting just a bit. She hums in agreement, taking another sip from her wine.
"Yeah, but just crazy to think that I went into the day thinking I'd hook up with someone else." She tells it so innocently, as if she's mostly talking to herself. Harry's jaw clenches as he stalks around the kitchen island and nears Y/N.
"But you're not, though." Harry notes, falling right into the trap. He knows what she's trying to do but he just can't help himself. He doesn't like the idea of her being with another man. He waits for her answer, hearing his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.
"I know, but I could have—"
Before the sentence has entirely left Y/N's mouth, Harry's hand flies to her neck. The amused look on Y/N's face tells him enough, but he doesn't care.
"You're not. You're in my bed tonight, and any night after that as far as I'm concerned, so I don't want to hear another fucking word about it."
Her eyes twinkle with amusement as she stares up at him. "You really are jealous."
The corner of his mouth tilts upwards, "And you've gotten feisty over the years."
Y/N bites her bottom lip, humming in agreement to his observation. Harry lets out a soft chuckle, tightening the grip on her neck. Y/N gasps in surprise.
"But do you still like to be put in your place?" He asks, inching his face close to hers. The answer is written in her eyes, and yet Y/N doesn't respond. When it's clear that she won't anytime soon, Harry's free hand sneaks around the waist of her pants. She shivers at the touch.
"Well? Do you?" He repeats himself, and slowly but surely, Y/N nods her head. Harry lets out a disapproving noise. "That's not a proper answer."
Closing her eyes, Y/N lets out a deep breath. "Yes, I like to be put in my place."
"That's what I thought." Harry laughs, taking his hands off of her entirely. She frowns, but her eyes widen when he barks out a demand. "Take off your clothes."
He watches carefully as she follows his orders, and she clearly takes her time stripping down to her underwear. When she has, she looks to him for some sign of approval, but Harry just raises his brows. His hands are sunk into his pockets as Y/N lets out a little breath and takes off her bra and panties.
His eyes trail down her body, his cock hurting at the sight of her. God, she's beautiful. He feels like an absolute idiot for not having fought for her earlier, but he reminds himself that he can't change the past and that she is here now, stark naked in his kitchen. A grin spread across his face.
"Do you remember how you addressed me all those years ago?" He asks. It takes a few seconds before Y/N answers, but she gives him a firm nod.
"I called you sir."
Harry nods. "Rules haven't changed. Now, get on the counter."
Her eyes flick to the marble countertop, shock flashing through her eyes. "But Har—"
His right brow lifts ever so slightly. Catching the hint, Y/N stops herself before she can finish the sentence and hoists herself on to the cold countertop. It must not be very pleasant to lay your naked body on that freezing surface, but it was an uncomfortable temporary obstacle. The results would be great, and in about thirty seconds, she'd forget all about that cold touch against her skin.
Harry pulls out one of the bar stools and sat directly in front of Y/N. Spreading her legs apart, he catches sight of that perfect pussy he has been waiting three years to taste again. Like a starved man sat in front of a feast, the urge to dive right in is almost too strong to bear. But before he has her writhing under him, he wants to make her shiver.
"Can't believe it took us so long to get here." Harry hums, tracing his fingers up her thigh, carefully observing the way Y/N tries to control her breathing. Her fists are balled up into curls, attempting to send her concentration to anything else than Harry. He tries not to let his smugness show too much, but he has to say he likes seeing her struggle a bit. A bit of payback for trying to toy with him just now.
"You've always been stubborn." Y/N jokes, a gasp strangling out of her when Harry's fingers ghost over her clit. He chuckles, the tone of his voice so low that it could almost be considered evil.
"If I remember correctly, you're the one who wanted to forget about that Halloween night." He notes. Y/N hums.
"I also made the condition to act professionally, but we didn't do that either." Her eyes gaze into his, catching the fond smile with which he stares at her. A faint blush erupts on her cheeks.
"You drew the line." Harry retorted, and Y/N scoffed.
"You crossed it about a hundred times." She argues in response. He only hums, that cocky smirk on his face.
"I did, and consider this hundredth and first time to be the last, because I'm not getting behind that line again."
Y/N has never been so turned on her in her entire life. Harry’s words are the epitome of determination, and the way his fingers slip inside her so easily the second he finishes his sentence only solidifies that notion. The gasp that leaves her mouth is cut short and evolves into a low moan as Harry’s lips latch onto her clit.
Sensitive would be an understatement for her current state. She is aching, and the way Harry is ravishing her almost hurt. But any pain dwells in comparison to her desire she was overcome with at the situation she currently finds herself in. She is on Harry's kitchen counter, legs spread wide open and letting him do all the things that slipped into her dreams over the past three years.
Harry sucks in all the ways that made her squirm, moving his fingers with such ease that made it seem like he has fingered her a thousand times already. As if he knows her like the back of his hand, as if he knows all her secrets, even ones she doesn't know herself.
Y/N's hand buries itself in Harry's hair when he begins to kitten lick her clit, and she feels that inevitable climax inching closer and closer. She wonders how she had been able to keep herself composed for so long, because the high that creeps up on her feels like it was long overdue.
Unfortunately, the sensation comes to a grinding halt when Harry backs away from Y/N. Her head shoots up, and finds him leaning over her body, wearing boyish half-smile that is now glimmering with her juices.
Wrapping one arm around her waist and the other one under her legs, he picks her up bridal style. She holds onto his shoulders, burying her face into his neck as he carried her to his bedroom. When she begins unbuttoning his shirt, he throws her on his bed. She lets out a soft yelp, bouncing onto the bed.
"So greedy..." Harry tuts in disapproval, but Y/N doesn't quite care. She wants him, bad, and now that she's had a preview of what's to come she doesn't want to wait any longer. She needs him and she needs that orgasm.
She pulls him closer by his pants and starts to unbuckle his belt. "You're taking too long."
Y/N is about halfway done when Harry's firm hand wraps around her neck and pulls her closer to his face. Inching down, he growls: "You'll take what I give you."
"Then give me something." She spits back, and Harry's eyes turn five shades darker at her invitation to a challenge. He slowly leans back, Y/N watching his every movement in anticipation.
"On your stomach."
Y/N stomach swirls at the command, and she obeys as quick as she can. It stays silent for a little bit, and she awaits his further actions eagerly.
"Hands behind your back."
Again, she does what he says. Y/N doesn't dare to turn her head as she hears Harry walking around his room. When she feels a silky material around her wrists, she knows enough. He's tying her up.
Knowing better than to do otherwise, Y/N keeps her mouth shuts as Harry makes an impenetrable knot with his tie. She moves her wrists, assessing how tight it really is, and gets interrupted by a punishing slap on her ass. The sting remains for a couple of seconds, and she is sure there is now a red print the size of Harry's hand on her right cheek.
"Ass up." He barks out his final order, no doubt smirking as she changes her position, slightly struggling now that her arms are of no use.
Y/N bites her lip in anticipation when Harry's hand grabs onto her hips, steadying himself behind her. She slightly flinches forward when the tip of his cock teases her entrance, and attempts to speed up the process by leaning backwards a bit. She's rewarded with another slap on her ass.
But then Harry finally sinks in, and that dreadful itch that plagued Y/N for such a long time is finally scratched, over and over again as he begins to pound into her with long, slow strokes.
"Fucking hell..." Harry murmurs, his cock suctioning into Y/N's tight, clenching pussy. He is so big, and it bruises her in all the right ways.
"Oh baby... thaaat's it." He groans when Y/N begins to bounce back on his cock, aiming to get it even deeper inside of her. She is ruthless in her movements, groaning at the overwhelming sensations. When Harry gropes her ass— and his nails bite into her skin—she loses control.
Burying her face into the mattress, Y/N screams as she reaches her peak. The sound of Harry's moans at her pussy convulsing around his cock only strengthens her orgasm. Her mind goes entirely blank as the shattering release ripples through her like an earthquake. The only thing she can think of is Harry's name, and it's the only thing she cries out as the dizzying explosion settles all over her body.
"You really are desperate, aren't you?" Harry sneers as he pulls his cock out of Y/N, letting go of her hips. She nearly falls over, her tied up hands making it difficult to catch herself. This orgasm was so intense, she could feel the three years of pent up tension as it washed over her. Her cheeks are burning red and her teary eyes makes her vision somewhat blurry.
Y/N is thrown off when Harry suddenly turns her around and she finds herself lying on her back. The way he towers over her would have been intimidating had it not been extremely hot.
"Came on my cock so fast..." he mumbles cockily, corner of his mouth pulled up like the arrogant bastard he is. "Such a slut for it."
Y/N wants to give him some snappy comeback, but her brain is still fried from the orgasm and she's always liked to be degraded in bed, so she decides to only glare at Harry while he speaks. He catches it, and his grin only widens.
"You know it's true, baby." He tells her, bringing your legs over each of his shoulders. That deviant smirk is the last thing Y/N sees before her eyes roll into the back of her head at the feeling of Harry's cock stretching her out again.
He leans forward, almost folding her in two, and reaches deeper. He stays there for a few seconds—as if he is catching his breath—then slowly backs out of her before slamming right back in. Y/N lets out a screech that, if it hadn't been for the desperation laced in its tone, would've sounded like someone was trying to murder her.
Trying to keep her own moans at a minimum, Y/N closes her eyes and listens to the harsh slaps of Harry's skin against hers, and the groans that escape his mouth with each thrust. The strength behind each movement makes her clench around Harry, who in turn hisses her name as if it were a curse word. It only causes her to clench more.
"Fuck, such a pretty little whore." Harry praises as he drives into her. Y/N can only whine, her tits bouncing uncontrollably at the impact of his motions. She must look fucking helpless. Opening her eyes, she catches the way Harry looks at her; like she's a dream. Like she's his dream.
"My pretty little whore." He growls, leaning back and holding one of her legs with his arm while the other reaches for her breasts.
"Yes..." Y/N breathes as he begins squeezing her breasts, getting lost in the sensations of him. Somehow it feels like Harry is everywhere. As if he has latched onto a part of her soul and she feels him coming to claim that every time his cock sinks into her.
"Such a tight fucking fit." He groans, taking her nipple between his fingers. "You should see how perfectly your pussy sucks in every inch of my cock..."
Y/N bites her lip as Harry talks, trying not too get too overwhelmed by the filthy things he's telling her as he plunges in and out of her. Her eyes catch the flex of his muscles that occur with every thrust, and she wonders how she got a man so perfect to fuck her stupid like this.
"Should record it... make a little video for just the two of us. What do you think?"
Oh my god.
"Don't you want to see how perfect we fit together?" He taunts, thrusting his hips harsher than before, hitting a spot that had been untouched for quite a while now. Y/N's face scrunches up.
"F—fuck! Yes, yes..." She responds when Harry stills inside of her to await an answer. He chuckles at the apparent hurry in her voice and reaches for—what Y/N assumes to be—his phone, on the bed. His motions are slow and soft, determined to keep Y/N satisfied at least a bit while he logs into his phone and searches for the camera app. She notices the start of his recording by the sudden change of pace and force of his movements.
His camera is pointed right at her pussy as he begins thrusting deep inside of her, and Y/N screams out Harry's name. The concentration on his face as he captures how she takes him proves too much to bear, and she shuts her eyes tightly, head flopping to the side.
She can hear his ragged breathing over all the other sounds that their bodies are making. The small grunts he makes in an effort not to moan too loudly is all she can focus on, and the tension in her belly grows exponentially with each vibrations of his voice that reaches her ears.
Harry slows his pace, putting more emphasis on the impact of his moves. It allows him to bring his free hand down to touch Y/N's clit. Her legs begin to shake the second he does.
"Are you gonna come again for me? I'm so close, baby. I can tell you are too." The softness in the delivery of his words have Y/N's ovaries rattle. She can only nod, a whine that was an attempt at a 'yes' falling from her rosy lips. Harry grins, his eyes flicking from his phone to her face. Everything feels so hazy, much like a daydream.
"Please don't stop." She squeals in such a high pitch that surprises even herself. Y/N had no idea she could go that high. Harry's bringing out an entirely new side of her.
"I'll never stop, baby." Harry rasps, pressing down on her clit in such a way that Y/N becomes cross-eyed for a second. Her nails grip into the bedsheets, the second release rippling through her like a hurricane. She never quite understood the word bliss, until now. This must be it; this feeling of... pure ecstasy.
Like a blank canvas splattered on with all the bright colors that exist in the world; fresh and exciting and psychedelic in a way. Impossible to define yet such a specific feeling. Y/N let all of it tingle from her head down to her toes, wanting to remember it forever.
The continuous pounding Y/N through her orgasm comes to a grinding halt when Harry reaches his own, pulling out just in time for his sperm to coat her puffy clit and swollen tits. His camera is focused on her frame, recording every spurt that paints her. She's the canvas, he's the colors, Y/N realizes. Harry is her definition of bliss.
The words shared between the two are scarce as Harry unties Y/N's hands, picks her up and carries her to the bathroom to clean her up. But the smiles on their faces says enough, both knowing what they feel is rare, and beautiful. Y/N assesses Harry's face, concluding that the soft edges of it makes him look like a proper angel.
When he's dressed her in one of his shirts, he takes her back to the bedroom, where he pulls her against his frame. Y/N wraps one leg around his torso, hugging him from the side with her head buried into his neck. The way his chest rises and lowers fills her with pure ease, and she leaves a few soft kisses in his neck as a silent thank you. Harry only hums in satisfaction, his arm only tightening around you, as if he's afraid you might let go.
"I'm never gonna let you go now." You tell him before you can even fully comprehend your words. Your heart starts racing, afraid that might've been too soon to say.
"Promise?"
Your racing heart is now melting as you turn your head and see Harry holding up his pinky. You are quick to interlock it with your own.
"Promise." You say with a smile.
General taglist: @mema10
#harry styles#writing#fanfic#fanfiction#harry#blurb#one direction#one shot#smut#excerpt#harry styles fan fic#harry styles fic#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fanfiction#harry edward styles#harry styles imagine#harry styles one shot#harryedwardstyles#harry fanfic
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Embracing the Mission
Christmas Special 🎄
Julie x Natty x Belle x Male Reader
word count 14K
A/n: last fic of the Christmas Special
Christmas Eve. Quiet, solemn, lonely. The kind of night where you can’t decide if you’re grateful for the silence or crushed beneath its weight. You drag yourself up the stairs, the old wood creaking under your feet. The dull glow of Christmas lights spills from the living room, blinking in patterns that feel more mocking than festive. You’ve always been a good guy, the dependable one, the “nice” one, but here you are, one stocking hung, one bed waiting for nobody but yourself.
At the top of the stairs, just as your hand brushes the railing, the doorbell rings.
You freeze.
Who the hell rings a doorbell on Christmas Eve this late? Solicitors don’t work tonight, and your neighbors barely talk to you during daylight hours. For a long moment, you consider ignoring it. Then it rings again—insistent, cheery.
You shuffle back down, mumbling under your breath about late-night pranks and cold drafts. Pulling the door open, you’re met with a sight that doesn’t just stop your breath; it slams it into reverse.
Two girls stand on your porch. They’re stunning in a way that should be illegal. The first one has curves so generous they practically defy gravity, her chest straining against a red and green corset that looks stitched from mischief itself. Her long, dark hair frames a face you could mistake for angelic if not for the sly twinkle in her eyes.
“Hi! I’m Natty!” she says brightly, as if this is the most normal introduction in the world.
Beside her, the other one radiates an entirely different energy: poised, commanding, her toned body wrapped in something close to a uniform, sharp lines of green velvet hugging her hips. Her dark brown hair glints in the soft light, and the arch of her brow suggests she’s used to being in charge.
“I’m Julie,” she says, her voice smoother, more measured. Then, in perfect unison, they chirp:
“And we need your help!”
You blink. Then you blink again. “Uh…”
“Wait, where’s Belle?” Julie cuts you off, her brow furrowing as she scans the space behind you.
“Typical,” Natty groans, folding her arms beneath her chest, which only makes the situation more distracting. “Always late.”
Before you can process any of this, a loud thunk echoes from inside your house, followed by a flurry of soot and a muffled cough. Spinning around, you see something—a someone—sprawled across your fireplace hearth.
“What the hell—”
The girl clambers to her feet, brushing coal dust off a mess of blonde hair. She's the same height as that other girl, Julie. With delicate features and wide, apologetic dark eyes that suggest she’s either innocent or very good at faking it. She’s wearing a short red dress streaked with ash, and she’s scowling as if this is somehow your fault.
“Belle!” Natty snaps. “What the hell are you doing?”
“You said to come in sneaky!” Belle protests, hands on her hips. “The chimney’s sneaky!”
“Not that sneaky, dumbass,” Julie groans, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Even Santa Claus doesn’t actually use chimneys. That’s a marketing thing.”
“You said stealth!” Belle shoots back, still smudged with coal and radiating indignation. “Stealth means unconventional entry points! It’s basic infiltration tactics!”
“I swear, I’m going to—” Natty starts, but Julie waves her off, taking a deep breath.
“Let’s just… move on. The whole night’s a disaster already.”
With that, they sweep past you and invade your home.
“Okay, hold up,” you interrupt, raising your hands. “Who are you people, and why are you in my house?!”
Julie turns her piercing gaze on you, suddenly all business. “We’re Santa’s elves.”
You stare. They stare back.
“…Elves,” you repeat.
“Uh-huh,” Natty confirms, nodding so enthusiastically that her chest threatens to break free of its corset.
Belle perks up. “Yeah! We work at the North Pole!” She pauses, then adds, “Well, usually. Technically, we’re on maternity leave before the fact.”
“Maternity leave?”
Julie steps forward, her voice low and commanding. “Look, I’ll cut to the chase. The birth rate in the North Pole is… concerningly low. Like, end-of-our-species low. We need help. Specifically, your help.”
“…My help,” you echo, your brain lagging behind the speed of this conversation.
Natty leans in, her lips quirking in a teasing smile. “We need you to get us pregnant.”
For a moment, the world tilts sideways. “Is this some kind of weird prank? Am I being filmed?”
“It sounds fake, doesn’t it?” Belle says, skipping over to you with a little bounce in her step. “But it’s totally true! Look—” She grabs your hand and drags it toward her head.
“Whoa, what are you—”
“Feel my ear!”
You hesitate, then give in, tugging lightly at one of her pointy ears. It’s soft, warm, pliant, and very much attached to her skull.
“Ow!” she yelps, batting your hand away. “What are you, a sadist?”
“They’re real,” you whisper, finally starting to believe them.
“Duh,” Natty says with a smirk. “So? You in?”
Your laugh comes out half-hysterical. “You think I’m just going to say yes to… to that?!”
Julie crosses her arms, tilting her head. “Why wouldn’t you? You’ve always been a good boy. Generous, kind, single…”
“That’s why I’m single!” you snap, throwing your hands in the air. “I don’t go around impregnating random women—elf women—on Christmas!”
“See?” Belle chimes in. “He is perfect. I told you.”
You groan, running a hand down your face. “This can’t be happening.”
“It’s happening,” Natty says, stepping closer. Her scent—cinnamon and something sweeter—fills your lungs, and suddenly the room feels ten degrees hotter.
Julie’s voice softens, almost coaxing. “All we’re asking is that you help save a species. A race. Think of it as… the ultimate Christmas gift.”
Belle pipes up, already raiding your kitchen. “If you'll excuse me, I'm hungry!”
Natty plops herself onto your couch like she owns the place, her corset straining as she lounges back, legs crossed. Belle's rifling through your fridge now, pulling out milk like this is her second home, while Julie perches herself neatly on the armrest of the chair across from you, her hands clasped like she’s about to break into a corporate PowerPoint presentation.
Julie clears her throat. “All right, let’s break this down. The North Pole is in crisis.”
“Oh, no,” you deadpan, flopping into the recliner. “Is Mrs. Claus filing for divorce? Did Santa get caught in a Ponzi scheme?”
Belle laughs from the kitchen, milk mustache and all. Natty, meanwhile, grins. “Ooh, I like him. He’s got jokes.”
“Let’s stay focused,” Julie says sharply, shooting a glare at both of them before turning back to you. “It’s not a joke. The population at the Pole is dwindling. Our fertility rates have been tanking for decades.”
“Have you ever considered having sex with other elves?” you ask
“Ha,” Julie deadpans. “No. It’s a genetic bottleneck problem. Too much inbreeding, not enough diversity.”
“Oh, God,” you groan, throwing your head back. “Am I about to be roped into a weird elf eugenics experiment? I didn’t sign up for this.”
Natty leans forward, her cleavage doing distracting things that seem entirely intentional. “You’re not roped into anything, sweetheart. But let’s just say you’ve been on the Nice List for decades. That’s not common. We figured, hey, why not pick someone who’s already a certified good boy?”
Belle chimes in from the kitchen, still munching on what might be your last box of Oreos. “And it’s not like you’ve got any plans tonight, right?”
You glare at her. “I could’ve had plans.”
“With who?” she shoots back, raising an eyebrow as she holds up a half-eaten cookie. “These? Didn’t think so.”
Julie rubs her temples like she’s dealing with toddlers. “The point is, the North Pole relies on elves to keep everything running smoothly. Toy production, reindeer care, Santa’s logistics—”
“—the strip club down on Candy Cane Lane—” Natty interjects with a wink.
Julie doesn’t miss a beat. “—all of it requires a stable population. We’re dangerously low. If we don’t start producing new elves, the entire system collapses.”
“Okay, but why me?” you ask, gesturing at yourself like there must be some mistake. “There’s eight billion people on the planet. You couldn’t have found someone… better qualified?”
Natty shrugs. “Most people don’t qualify for the Nice List. And a lot of the ones who do are, like, seven years old.”
“Or old ladies who bake cookies for their neighbors,” Belle adds.
“And you’re… what? Prime reproductive age? Decent genetics? Plus, you live alone, so no messy drama with spouses or girlfriends. Frankly, you’re the perfect candidate,” Julie finishes matter-of-factly.
You snort. “Wow, thanks. Nothing boosts a guy’s ego like being told he’s a walking sperm donor with no social life.”
“Oh, don’t sell yourself short,” Natty says, standing up and sauntering over to you. She plants her hands on either side of your chair, leaning down until her face is inches from yours. “You’re also cute.”
Your brain short-circuits for a second before you manage to sputter, “Girls, this is crazy. It sounds like something out of an erotic fiction written by a sick mind.”
“It’s practical,” Julie counters. “We’re not asking you to marry us. We’re asking for your… genetic material. Through, uh, direct methods.”
“Oh, is that all?” you say, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Sure, let me just whip out my North Pole application and put ‘elf breeding kink’ under special skills.”
Belle wanders over now, plopping onto the couch and curling her legs beneath her. “Look, it’s not like you’re doing it for free. Think of it as an exclusive, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You get to help save Christmas and have sex with three hot elves. Win-win, right? It's not that difficult, elves are very, very fertile.”
Natty grins, her lips brushing dangerously close to your ear as she whispers, “Bet no one’s ever left that off their bucket list.”
You shove her away gently, shaking your head. “You’re all insane. I should call the cops.”
“Oh, please,” Belle scoffs. “What’re you gonna say? ‘Help, three elves broke into my house and asked me to impregnate them’? You’d be on YouTube before the night’s over.”
“Wait, do elves also watch YouTube?”
Julie sighs, standing up and dusting off her hands. “Listen, we’ll give you some time to think about it. But let’s be clear—this isn’t just about us. It’s about every elf, every reindeer, every child who wakes up on Christmas morning hoping for magic.”
"Be mindful, this could be a total game-changer!” Belle exclaims. “Imagine if other elves join us, we'd have the numbers to make the North Pole council change their rules. Interracial babies for everyone! It would be legendary!” She's clearly excited about the idea.
“That’s a lot of pressure,” you mutter.
Natty strokes your arm, her smile equal parts playful and predatory. “You’ll rise to the occasion. I can feel it.”
Belle snickers. “Or we’ll make you.”
—
You shut your bedroom door, leaning against it like it might keep the insanity out. Your room feels smaller, tighter, like the walls are closing in on you. You sink onto the edge of the bed, staring at your hands, the events of the last hour replaying in loops too ridiculous to comprehend.
Three elves. Pregnant. By you.
You look at the glow-in-the-dark clock on your wall, its numbers mocking you. Midnight, Christmas Day. The kind of moment that should be filled with a warm cup of cocoa, maybe a silly Christmas movie in the background. Instead, you’re debating whether to turn your house into the world’s weirdest fertility clinic.
You groan, dragging your hands through your hair. It’s not like you’re against the idea. They’re beautiful—beyond beautiful—but this isn’t just some quick hookup. They’re asking for something bigger. Permanent. And yeah, it’d be easy to chalk it up to a crazy story you tell yourself later, but you can’t stop thinking about what it would mean.
Kids. Real, flesh-and-blood kids. Yours.
You’ve spent enough Christmases alone to know how heavy the quiet can get. It’s not the sex you’re hesitating about—it’s what comes after. You can’t just pump and dump (so to speak). That’s not who you are.
A burst of laughter from the living room pulls you out of your spiral. You push yourself off the bed and head to the door. Whatever decision you make, it’s better than sitting here stewing in your own head.
When you step back into the living room, they’re sprawled across your couch like they’ve lived here for years. The TV’s on, tuned to some Christmas classic, though the sound’s muted. Natty’s flipping through your Blu-ray collection, shaking her head at your lack of romantic comedies. Belle’s halfway through a bag of chips you’re pretty sure you were saving for New Year’s.
“You know, those were mine,” you say, pointing at the chips.
She grins, cheeks puffed out like a squirrel. “Finders, eaters.”
Julie barely glances up from where she’s scrolling on your phone. “So? Have you come to your senses?”
You take a deep breath, stepping further into the room. “I’ve made my decision.”
The room goes still. Belle pauses mid-chew. Natty freezes with a DVD case in hand. Julie sits up straighter, her eyes locked on you like a hawk.
“I’ll do it,” you say. “On one condition.”
Natty perks up immediately. “Name it, stud.”
“I want to see the kids.”
The room practically tilts sideways with the weight of their confusion.
Julie narrows her eyes. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I don’t want to just… make them and never see them again,” you explain, running a hand over the back of your neck. “If we’re doing this, I want to be part of their lives. I want to know them. I want to have a family.”
They all stare at you like you just grew a second head. Even Belle, who has been entirely food-focused until now, sets the chips down to gape at you.
Julie is the first to recover, though her tone is softer now. “Why? That wasn’t part of the deal. You’d be doing your… civic duty, so to speak. Why do you care what happens after?”
You shrug, shoving your hands in your pockets. “Because I don’t want to spend the rest of my life wondering if I made a mistake. I don’t want to be a ghost in their lives. Hell, I don’t even have anyone now, let alone a family. Maybe this is my chance.”
That last part slips out before you can stop it, and you immediately regret how vulnerable it sounds.
The elves exchange glances. Natty bites her lip, Julie furrows her brow, and Belle just looks vaguely guilty. Without a word, they huddle together in the corner, whispering furiously.
“Oh, come on, you’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?” you call out, gesturing to their huddle.
“Shh!” Natty waves a dismissive hand at you, her voice muffled. “We’re deliberating.”
Belle glances back at you once, her lips twitching like she might smile. Julie smacks her on the arm, dragging her back into their huddle.
After what feels like an eternity, they break apart, turning to face you with synchronized seriousness. Julie steps forward as the spokesperson.
“Alright. We’ll allow it.”
“Allow it?” you echo, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes,” she continues, ignoring your tone. “It’s unconventional, but you’ve proven yourself to be… an exceptionally good boy.”
Natty snickers. “You’re, like, too good. It’s almost weird.”
Belle beams. “It’s sweet!”
You exhale, relief flooding through you. “Okay, good. Then we’re all on the same page.”
Julie smirks, tilting her head toward the hallway. “We are. Now, let’s get started.”
Before you can process her words, Natty grabs one hand, Julie takes the other, and they start tugging you toward the bedroom.
“Wait, right now?” you stammer, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest.
“Uh, yeah,” Natty says, throwing a playful wink over her shoulder. “You’re not getting out of this, Mister Family Man.”
Belle trails behind, licking chip dust off her fingers as she grins, a new bag in the other hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll wait my turn. I’m still eating.”
The door to your bedroom looms closer, and for the first time all night, you realize you might actually be in over your head.
—
The bedroom feels both foreign and familiar, lit softly by the glow of Christmas lights strung around the window. Julie and Natty waste no time, their hands still locked around yours as they pull you toward the bed, their intentions as clear as the sly smiles on their faces. Your heart hammers in your chest as the door clicks shut behind Belle, her footsteps slow and casual.
Natty is the first to spin around, her dark eyes glinting with mischief as she steps in close, the scent of peppermint and something deeper, muskier, teasing your senses. Julie mirrors her movements, sliding behind you with a grace that’s almost predatory, her hands grazing your shoulders.
You’re caught between them, their bodies pressed against you—soft and warm in all the right places. Julie’s lips ghost over your ear, her voice a low purr. “You’re nervous. Don’t be. We’ll make this… unforgettable.”
Natty chuckles, her hands already slipping beneath the hem of your shirt. “Oh, he’s already enchanted. Look at him.”
And she’s not wrong. Your gaze flickers to her pointed ears, impossibly cute, twitching slightly as she speaks. You can’t help yourself; your hand lifts, fingers brushing the curve of one. She gasps softly, her body trembling against you.
“Sensitive, huh?” you murmur, surprised by your own boldness.
Natty smirks, leaning into your touch. “You’ve got no idea.”
Julie’s hands are more decisive, sliding down your chest as Natty tugs your shirt up and over your head, leaving you bare to the room’s cool air. Her nails drag lightly across your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
Behind you, Julie’s fingers work at your belt, a faint laugh escaping her lips as she feels the bulge already straining against your jeans. “Well, someone’s eager.”
“You’re the ones who dragged me in here,” you shoot back, though your voice is breathless.
Natty steps back, her chest rising and falling with each shallow breath as her fingers move to the laces of her corset. She catches your gaze, a teasing smile curving her lips as she deliberately slows, each pull on the strings heightening the anticipation. Bit by bit, the tension gives way, and her ample cleavage begins to spill over, the fabric struggling to contain her.
With a final tug, the corset slackens, and she slides it down her torso, her movements fluid, almost hypnotic. The garment falls away, revealing the smooth, unblemished plane of her skin, glowing in the dim light. Her breasts, full and impossibly perfect, sway slightly with her motion, their weight almost defying reason, nipples already stiffened peaks begging for attention.
Natty doesn’t stop there. Her hands travel lower, unfastening her skirt and letting it pool at her feet. She steps out of it, the shift leaving her in only a pair of thin, lacy panties clinging to her hips. Her fingers hook into the waistband, and she peels them down inch by inch, the reveal torturously slow until the fabric slides off completely, leaving her bare.
She stands there unabashed, her toned figure on full display, the curves of her hips leading to the bare mound of her pussy, glistening slightly in the light. She tosses the corset aside with a devilish grin, her eyes locking onto yours.
“Like what you see?” she teases, palming her own chest and giving it a little bounce.
Before you can answer, Julie tugs your pants and underwear down in one swift motion, leaving your cock springing free, hard and ready. She hums appreciatively, her sharp eyes glinting as she reaches out to grip it lightly, her fingers warm and confident.
Belle, meanwhile, has claimed the armchair in the corner, Opening the new bag of chips. She crosses her legs, leaning back like she’s settling in for a show.
“Don’t mind me,” she says, her voice light and amused. “I’m just here for moral support.”
“More like immoral support,” Natty quips, stepping out of the rest of her clothes to reveal curves that could have been sculpted by a god. Her hips sway as she moves closer, and you can’t help but stare, utterly captivated.
You sit on your bed, Julie begins to unbutton the top of her elven uniform, sensually removing the velvet from her skin, The red lingerie reveals her medium-sized, round and perfectly formed breasts that, combined with her smooth skin, leave you almost drooling. She slides down to her knees in front of you, her dark brown hair pooling around her shoulders as she gazes up at you with a wicked grin. “All right, let’s set some ground rules.”
“Ground rules?” you echo, your brain barely functioning under the weight of what’s happening.
“I’m going first,” she says simply, her hand stroking your length with slow, deliberate precision. “I’ll be the first one pregnant. But first…” Her tongue darts out, licking her lips. “We’ve gotta get you nice and ready.”
Natty giggles, pressing herself against your side, her breasts warm and soft against your arm. “Oh, he’s ready. Look at him.”
Julie doesn’t respond, too focused as she leans in, her tongue tracing a line along the underside of your cock. The sensation sends a shiver racing up your spine, and you grip the edge of the bed for support.
“Jesus,” you breathe, your head falling back.
“Not quite,” Julie murmurs, her lips wrapping around the tip.
Her mouth is warm, wet, and devastatingly skilled as she takes you deeper, her tongue swirling in maddening patterns. Natty watches with a smirk, her fingers trailing down your chest, her nails scraping lightly against your skin.
Belle’s voice drifts over from the chair, smug and teasing. “Damn, Julie. Save some for the rest of us.”
Julie pulls back just enough to speak, her breath hot against your slick length. “Patience, Belle. You’ll get your turn.”
Natty leans in, her lips brushing against your jaw as she whispers, “She likes to make a mess. You should see her when she’s serious.”
You groan, caught between the relentless heat of Julie’s mouth and the soft press of Natty’s body against yours.
Julie doesn’t waste a second. She tightens her grip at the base of your cock, guiding it back between her lips with the kind of confidence that only comes from experience—or maybe instinct. Her mouth is pure heaven: warm, wet, and impossibly tight as she takes you deeper, her cheeks hollowing with every movement.
The sight of her on her knees, her brown dark hair falling around her flushed face, has you twitching in her mouth, and she hums in approval, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure straight through you. Her eyes flick up to meet yours, dark and mischievous, as her tongue swirls around your head before she dives lower, taking you all the way in until your cock is brushing the back of her throat.
“Fuck, Julie,” you groan, your hips jerking forward instinctively.
Natty laughs softly from beside you, her full, bare breasts pressed against your arm as she leans in. “She’s a pro, isn’t she? Makes you wonder what other surprises she’s hiding.”
Her voice drips with teasing warmth, and you turn your head, unable to resist the lure of her body. Her tits are huge—soft and heavy, nipples stiff and begging for attention. You cup one in your hand, marveling at the weight of it, and she shivers, biting her lip.
“Don’t be shy,” she murmurs, pushing herself closer. “I’ve got plenty to keep you busy.”
Your mouth finds her nipple, hot and eager, and she gasps, her fingers tangling in your hair as you suck gently, your tongue flicking against the sensitive peak. Her skin is soft and smooth under your lips, and you move to her other breast, giving it the same attention as her moans grow louder.
Meanwhile, Julie’s pace is relentless, her head bobbing as she works your cock with a combination of tongue, lips, and sheer determination. The obscene sounds of her mouth—wet, messy, and utterly filthy—fill the room, mingling with Natty’s soft cries and the distant hum of Christmas lights.
Belle, still perched in the chair with her snacks, snorts. “Damn, Julie, you trying to drown him? I can hear that slurping from here.”
Julie pulls back just enough to shoot Belle a look, her lips glistening with spit. “Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you’d do something useful for once.”
Belle grins, taking a lazy sip of her milk. “I am doing something. I’m observing. Documenting this historic moment. You’re welcome.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Julie mutters before turning her focus back to you.
She grips your cock tighter, her other hand cupping your balls as her mouth slides down again, taking you even deeper this time. The wet heat of her throat surrounds you, and you can’t stop the groan that tears from your chest, your hips bucking slightly.
“Careful,” Natty teases, her voice breathy as you switch back to her other nipple, sucking harder this time. “You don’t want to choke her. She’s got a small throat.”
Julie glares up at her, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she doubles down, her movements faster, rougher, as if to prove a point. The slick noises of her blowjob grow louder, lewd and shameless, and your legs tremble as she works you closer to the edge.
“Holy fuck,” you manage to gasp, your hand gripping her hair as she takes you all the way again, her lips flush against the base of your cock.
Belle claps mockingly from the chair. “Bravo! Give the girl a medal. Or maybe a towel. She’s making a mess.”
You glance down and see that she’s right—Julie’s chin is glistening with spit, and a thin line of drool drips from her mouth to the floor. She doesn’t care. If anything, she leans into it, her hands stroking you as she pulls back to catch her breath, a trail of saliva connecting her lips to your cock.
“God, you’re a mess,” you say, half-laughing, half-moan.
Julie wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, her grin wicked. “You fucking love it.”
And she’s not wrong.
Natty, watching from your side, lets out a low chuckle, her hands sliding down her own curves.
“You’re hogging all the fun,” Natty purrs, leaning forward, her full breasts pressing against your side. “Don’t you believe in sharing, Julie? It is Christmas.”
Julie raises an eyebrow, her tongue flicking out to lick a stray bead of spit from her lips. “Think you can keep up?”
Natty grins, already dropping to her knees beside Julie. “Try me.”
Your cock twitches at the sight of them kneeling together, their hair—a mix of raven-black and chestnut brown—falling around their faces like something out of a dirty dream. Natty’s hand joins Julie’s, her grip firm but teasing as she strokes you alongside her.
“Damn, you’re big,” Natty murmurs, her fingers wrapping around your shaft as she glances up at you. “Santa Claus really chose the right guy.”
Julie rolls her eyes but leans forward again, her lips brushing the tip of your cock as Natty keeps stroking. “Quit talking and get to work,” she mutters before taking you back into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing as she sucks.
Natty doesn’t miss a beat. She leans in from the side, her tongue darting out to lick along your shaft, tracing every vein with slow, deliberate strokes. Her lips are soft and warm as they move lower, trailing down to your balls, and you nearly lose your balance as her mouth closes around one, sucking gently.
“Holy shit,” you groan, your head falling back as they work in perfect sync.
Julie pulls off with a wet pop, her lips curling into a smirk. “He likes that. Don’t stop, Natty.”
“Wasn’t planning to,” Natty replies, her voice muffled as she switches to your other ball, her tongue swirling in slow circles.
Julie takes you back into her mouth, bobbing her head with a steady rhythm that leaves you trembling. She takes you deeper this time, her throat tightening around your cock as she moves faster, her hand stroking what she can’t fit. Natty’s hands roam, one gripping your thigh while the other strokes the base of your shaft in time with Julie’s movements.
“You two are gonna kill me,” you manage to gasp, your hands tangling in their hair as pleasure courses through you.
Natty pulls back just enough to laugh, her lips shiny with spit. “Kill you? Baby, we’re just getting started.”
She leans up, her mouth joining Julie’s at the tip of your cock, their tongues meeting in a wet, messy kiss around you. The sight alone is almost enough to make you lose it—two gorgeous girls, their mouths working together, their spit mixing as they trade kisses and licks across your length.
“God, that’s hot,” Belle mutters from the armchair, her voice low and lazy. You glance over to see her lounging with one leg draped over the armrest. “I’d offer to join, but you two look like you’ve got it handled.”
Julie shoots her a glare without pulling her mouth away, her tongue swirling around your head before she pushes you deep again. Natty giggles, licking a long stripe up your shaft before wrapping her lips around the base, her hand stroking in tandem with Julie’s bobbing head.
The combination is overwhelming—Julie’s throat tightening around you, Natty’s tongue teasing every sensitive spot, their hands and mouths working together like they’ve done this a hundred times before. Your legs shake, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as they push you closer and closer to the edge.
You pull back, your cock slick with their spit, and both women look up at you in surprise, lips swollen, faces flushed.
“Stop,” you pant, your voice rough. “I need more. Julie—get on the bed.”
Julie’s lips curl into a slow, knowing smile. “Finally ready to stop playing around, huh?”
She stands gracefully, peeling off the scraps of her lingerie as she moves. Her body is toned and lithe, her skin gleaming in the soft glow of the Christmas lights outside, visible through the window. Her breasts are perky, her waist narrow, and when she turns to climb onto the bed, you can’t stop yourself from staring at her ass—big, perfectly round, the kind of ass that seems sculpted to be fucked.
Natty is already lying on her back, her legs spread wide, her glistening pussy on full display. She props herself up on her elbows, watching the two of you with a grin. “Oh, this is gonna be good. Don’t be shy, Julie. Show him how it’s done.”
Julie positions herself on all fours, her back arched and her cheeks raised in invitation. She glances over her shoulder, her dark eyes filled with challenge and anticipation. “Well? What are you waiting for?”
You don’t need to be told twice. Climbing onto the bed behind her, you grip her hips, your fingers digging into her soft, supple skin. Her pussy is already dripping, her arousal glistening in the light, and you drag the head of your cock along her folds, teasing her.
“Come on, shove it in my pussy,” she snaps, her voice sharp but laced with need.
“Patience,” you murmur, leaning down to kiss her lower back before pressing the tip of your cock against her entrance.
Julie growls softly, but her breath hitches as you push inside, the tight heat of her pussy clamping around you. She’s wet and snug, her walls pulsing as you slide deeper, and you have to grit your teeth to keep from losing it right there.
“Fuck, that’s good,” you groan, gripping her hips tighter as you bottom out, your cock buried to the hilt.
Julie’s head drops forward, her hands fisting in the sheets. “Mmm, yeah. Just like that. Don’t hold back.”
Natty’s laugh draws your attention, and you glance up to see her spreading herself wider, her fingers teasing her folds as she watches. “Don’t let her boss you around too much,” she teases. “She likes it rough. Don’t you, Julie?”
Julie doesn’t respond with words, just a guttural moan as you pull back and thrust into her again, harder this time. Her ass jiggles with the force, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.
“Yeah, that’s it,” Natty coos, her voice thick with arousal. She moves closer, her legs spreading even wider. “C’mere, Julie. You’ve got work to do.”
Julie doesn’t hesitate, leaning forward until her mouth is hovering over Natty’s dripping pussy. Her tongue flicks out, teasing the sensitive flesh, and Natty gasps, her hips bucking up toward Julie’s mouth.
“God, that’s good,” Natty moans, her fingers tangling in Julie’s hair.
The sight of Julie buried between Natty’s thighs, her ass raised high and rocking back against you, is enough to drive you insane. You grip her hips harder, your thrusts growing faster and rougher, each one making her moan louder into Natty’s pussy.
“Fuck, Julie,” you growl, your voice ragged. “You feel so fucking good.”
She hums in response, the vibrations making Natty cry out, her legs trembling as she grinds against Julie’s face.
“Don’t stop,” Natty gasps, her eyes fluttering shut. “God, you’re both so good.”
Julie’s moans are muffled by Natty’s pussy, but the way she clenches around your cock with every thrust tells you she’s just as lost in the moment as you are. You lean over her, one hand sliding up her back, your fingers tangling in her hair as you fuck her harder, the sound of your bodies colliding filling the air.
“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, your chest heaving.
Belle’s voice cuts through the haze from her perch in the corner. “I mean, if you two could make it any louder, that’d be great. I don’t think the neighbors heard you yet.”
“Shut up, Belle,” Julie snarls, her voice muffled by Natty’s folds.
Natty lets out a breathless laugh, her head falling back as she grinds against Julie’s tongue. “She’s got a point. You two are animals.”
You ignore them, too focused on the way Julie’s pussy grips you, the way her ass bounces with every thrust, the way Natty’s moans grow louder as Julie devours her. It’s raw, messy, and perfect, and you’re not sure how much longer you can hold out.
You’re buried deep inside Julie, her tight, wet pussy squeezing you like a vice with every thrust. Her big ass bounces against your hips, and you can’t help the low growl that escapes your throat. She’s good—too good—but there’s something you can’t shake, something you need to see.
Leaning over her, your voice comes out rough, ragged. “Julie… twerk on my cock.”
Julie freezes for half a second, her breath hitching. Then, to your surprise, Natty bursts out laughing from her spot beside you, where she’s still sprawled on the bed, her fingers teasing her swollen clit.
“Oh, you’re in for a treat,” Natty purrs, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “Twerking’s her specialty. Go on, Julie. Show him what you’ve got.”
Julie glances back over her shoulder, her dark eyes glinting with a mix of challenge and amusement. “You think you can handle it?” she asks, her voice low and teasing.
“Try me,” you growl, your hands gripping her hips tighter.
She smirks, planting her palms firmly on the bed as she starts to move. Her hips roll first, slow and deliberate, before she begins to bounce, her ass clapping softly against your thighs. The sensation is unreal—her tight heat milking your cock as her ass jiggles in perfect rhythm, the wet sound of your connection filling the room.
“Holy fuck,” you mutter, your hands sliding down to grip her cheeks, spreading them wide as she works.
Natty props herself up on one elbow, watching with a wicked grin. “Told you. She’s got moves.”
Julie arches her back, her movements growing faster, more intense. She pushes back hard with every bounce, driving your cock deeper inside her, and the sight of her round, flawless ass slamming against you is enough to make your head spin.
“Like that?” she asks breathlessly, glancing back at you.
“Fuck yes,” you groan, raising one hand and bringing it down on her cheek with a sharp smack.
Julie moans, her hips jerking forward slightly before she slams back again, grinding herself against you. “Harder,” she demands, her voice dripping with lust.
You don’t need to be told twice. Your hand comes down again, the slap echoing in the room, leaving a red imprint on her smooth skin. She gasps, pushing back harder, her pussy clenching around you.
“Jesus, Julie,” you growl, your nails digging into her flesh. “You’re gonna kill me.”
From the corner, Belle snickers, her voice lazy but amused. “Yeah, Julie. Work that dick. Milk him dry.”
Julie smirks, but her focus doesn’t waver. Her ass bounces faster, harder, the rhythm hypnotic, and you feel your control slipping as the pleasure builds in your gut, hot and insistent.
“Keep going,” you urge, your voice rough. “Fuck, don’t stop.”
She doesn’t. If anything, she doubles down, her movements wild and relentless as she twerks on your cock, her pussy squeezing you tighter with every bounce. Your breaths come faster, your grip on her hips growing almost desperate as the pressure inside you reaches its breaking point.
“Gonna cum,” you gasp, your thrusts growing erratic as you match her pace.
“Do it,” Belle encourages, her tone teasing but firm. “Fill her up. That’s what she’s here for.”
Natty grins, her voice a purr. “Yeah, Julie wants it. Don’t you, baby?”
Julie moans in response, her movements frantic now, her pussy milking you with every thrust. “Fuck, yes,” she gasps. “Cum in me. Fill me up.”
Her words are your undoing. With one final thrust, you bury yourself as deep as you can go, your cock pulsing as you release inside her. The heat of your cum floods her, and she cries out, her body trembling as her own climax ripples through her.
You stay there for a moment, your bodies locked together, both of you panting and shaking.
Julie collapses forward, her body trembling, chest heaving against the sheets. You slowly pull out, and the sight stops you in your tracks. Your cock slides free with a slick, wet sound, and thick ropes of your cum immediately start dripping from her swollen, glistening pussy, running down her thighs in sticky trails.
She groans softly, her legs shaking as she shifts to the side, collapsing onto her back. “Holy shit,” she mutters, tossing a glance at Natty. “You’re gonna love this.”
Natty grins, already on her knees beside you, her hands sliding over your chest. “Oh, I know I will.” She nudges Julie with her hip, her voice teasing. “Move over, Julie. My turn.”
Julie chuckles breathlessly but obliges, rolling to the side to give Natty space. Natty wastes no time, her hand already wrapping around your cock, stroking it slowly. You twitch in her grip, still sensitive from your release, but she doesn’t let up, her fingers firm and deliberate.
“You’re not done yet, big guy,” she murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to your chest. “We’ve still got work to do.”
Belle snorts from her spot in the chair. “Poor guy looks like he’s already dead. You sure he can keep up?”
“Oh, he can keep up,” Natty replies, her voice full of confidence. She moves lower, her lips trailing hot, wet kisses across your skin, her hand never stopping its slow, steady strokes.
Julie props herself up on one elbow, her gaze fixed on you with a satisfied smirk. “If he can’t, we’ll make him.”
Natty chuckles, her tongue flicking out to tease one of your nipples. The sensation sends a jolt through you, and she grins against your skin. “See? He’s already waking up.”
Her other hand joins in, her nails lightly scraping down your stomach, and your cock twitches again, starting to harden in her grip. She hums in approval, her lips wrapping around your nipple, sucking gently as her hand works you. Slowly you lie down on the bed, pulling Natty with you. The new position allows you to enjoy the best of her touch comfortably.
Julie leans in from the side, her lips finding your neck. “Yeah, relax,” she murmurs, her breath hot against your skin. “Let us take care of you.”
You exhale shakily, your hands resting on their hips as they move together, their lips and hands exploring every inch of you. Julie’s tongue traces the curve of your jaw, while Natty’s mouth moves lower, her kisses trailing down your chest to your stomach.
“Fuck,” you mutter, your head falling back against the pillow.
Natty glances up at you, her grin wicked. “That’s it. Just let go.”
Her strokes grow firmer, her grip tightening around your cock as it hardens fully again, and she laughs softly. “There we go. Good boy.”
Julie smirks, her lips brushing against your ear. “Told you he’d be ready in no time.”
Natty’s hand slows, her thumb swiping over the sensitive head of your cock, smearing the bead of precum that’s already forming. “He’s perfect,” she purrs, her voice dripping with satisfaction.
Belle sighs dramatically from the chair. “All right, Natty, quit hogging him. Let’s see you put that cock to good use.”
Natty laughs, tossing a glance over her shoulder. “Patience, Belle. You’ll get your turn. For now…” She straddles your hips, her wet pussy hovering just above your cock. “It’s my turn.”
You grip her hips instinctively, your body already craving her. “Bring it on,” you mutter, your voice rough with desire.
Natty grins, her hands resting on your chest as she positions herself, her eyes locked on yours. “Oh, I will,” she promises, her voice low and teasing. “You’d better keep up.”
She grips your cock, guiding it to her slick, swollen entrance, her wetness coating the head as she teases you with slow, deliberate movements. You groan, your hands tightening on her hips as the head of your cock pushes into her heat, her pussy stretching to take you inch by inch.
“Fuck,” you mutter, your head falling back against the pillow. “You feel… so fucking good.”
She lets out a low, satisfied moan as she sinks all the way down, her thick, curvy body pressing against you. Her pussy grips you like a glove, tight and wet, and you can feel every pulse, every clench as she adjusts to your size. Her breasts bounce slightly with the movement, full and heavy, her nipples stiff and begging to be touched.
Your hands slide up her waist to cup them, marveling at their softness, and she grins down at you, her dark eyes glinting with amusement. “Like what you see, huh?”
“You’re perfect,” you rasp, your thumbs brushing over her nipples, eliciting a gasp from her. “Thick, juicy… fuck, Natty, you’re incredible.”
She laughs, low and teasing, her hips starting to roll in slow, deliberate movements. “Careful, big guy. You keep talking like that, and I might actually start thinking you’d make a good husband.”
You chuckle breathlessly, gripping her hips as she rides you, her movements smooth and sensual. “Might not be wrong.”
Natty grins, leaning forward slightly, her breasts brushing against your chest as she moves. Her pussy slides up and down your cock with maddening precision, her pace slow enough to drive you crazy, but steady enough to keep you on the edge.
Your cock, still half-numb from your release with Julie, feels like it’s waking up all over again, the pleasure building slowly but intensely. The way her body moves, her hips rolling, her ass bouncing slightly with every thrust—it’s hypnotic, and you can’t look away.
“God, you’re beautiful,” you murmur, your hands trailing up her sides to cup her breasts again, squeezing gently.
Natty moans softly, her pace quickening just slightly. “Mmm, keep talking, sweetheart. I like to hear how much you adore me.”
The sight of her, riding you like she’s in control of the entire world, is almost too much to handle. Her thick thighs frame your hips, her juicy breasts sway with every movement, and her dark hair falls around her face in messy waves.
You glance to the side, catching Julie watching intently, her lips parted as she takes in the scene. “Julie,” you call out, your voice rough. “Kiss her.”
Julie’s eyebrows raise slightly, but she doesn’t hesitate. She moves closer, kneeling on the bed beside you. Natty’s eyes flick to her, and a slow, wicked smile spreads across her lips.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Julie murmurs before leaning in.
Their lips meet in a soft, teasing kiss at first, their mouths moving slowly, testing, teasing. Then it deepens, their tongues tangling, and the sight makes your cock twitch inside Natty.
“Fuck,” you groan, your hands tightening on her hips as she continues to ride you.
Natty moans into the kiss, her movements growing faster, her pussy squeezing you tighter. Julie’s hands slide up to cup Natty’s face, holding her close as their kiss becomes wetter, messier, their moans mingling in the air.
Your eyes flick to the corner of the room, and your breath catches at the sight of Belle. She’s leaning back in the chair, her dress hiked up around her hips, one hand pressed against her panties. Her fingers move in slow, lazy circles, teasing herself as she watches the three of you.
Her eyes meet yours, and she grins, her cheeks flushed. “Don’t mind me,” she says, her voice low and breathy. “Just enjoying the show.”
The combination of Natty’s bouncing ass, her tight, wet pussy gripping you, the sight of her and Julie kissing hungrily, and Belle touching herself in the corner—it’s overwhelming. The pleasure builds rapidly, every nerve in your body on fire as Natty’s hips grind against you, her pussy gripping your cock with that maddening rhythm that has you teetering on the edge. Her thick, curvy body moving with an expertise that makes it impossible to think straight.
But as much as you love the sight of her riding you like this, there’s one thing you need even more.
“Turn around,” you growl, your hands sliding down to her thighs. “I want to see that fat ass while you ride me.”
Natty’s grin widens, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, you like my ass, huh?”
“Love it,” you reply, your voice thick with need. “Now, turn around and show me.”
Natty bites her lip, sliding off you slowly, your cock glistening with her wetness as it slips free. She swings her leg over, turning around to face away from you. And when she lowers herself back down, guiding you into her dripping pussy, the sight is absolutely fucking perfect.
Natty's ass is a fucking spectacle, a fucking masterpiece that deserves to be worshipped. It's not just round and thick; it's fucking voluptuous, a perfect peach that jiggles and bounces with every damn movement. As she sinks down onto your cock, you can see her cheeks spreading, swallowing your shaft like it's fucking hungry for it. She glances back over her shoulder, her hair falling in messy waves around her flushed face.
“Better?” she asks, her voice teasing, as she starts to move her hips in slow, grinding circles.
“Fuck yes,” you groan, your hands gripping her waist. “You’re fucking perfect, Natty.”
Natty laughs softly, her hips lifting and dropping in a slow, torturous rhythm that leaves you panting. Her pussy grips you like a vise, the wet sounds of her movements filling the room as she bounces on your cock.
“Look at you,” she purrs, glancing back again. “Losing your mind over my ass, huh?”
“Can you blame me?” you shoot back, your fingers digging into her hips. “Look at the way it fucking moves.”
She smirks, her pace quickening, her ass clapping against your thighs with every bounce. “Yeah? You like that? You like watching my fat ass swallow your cock?”
“Fucking love it,” you groan, your hips bucking up to meet her movements.
Julie moves in closer, leaning over your chest. Her lips find your neck first, soft and teasing, before trailing down to your chest. “Don’t forget about me,” she murmurs, her voice low and sultry.
Her tongue flicks over your nipple, and you shudder, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure through your already overworked body. She grins against your skin, sucking gently before moving to the other side, her fingers tracing light patterns over your abs.
“You’re lucky we’re letting you take your time,” she teases, her lips brushing against your ear. “Natty could’ve made you cum five minutes ago if she really wanted to.”
Natty laughs, throwing her head back as she rides you harder, her movements wild and relentless now. “He’s just trying to keep up, Julie. Don’t be too hard on him.”
You growl, your grip on Natty’s hips tightening as you thrust up into her, meeting her movements with desperate intensity. The sight of her ass bouncing against you, the wet sounds of her pussy taking you so deep, Julie’s lips on your chest—it’s all too much, but you don’t want it to end.
“God, you’re so fucking tight,” you groan, your voice ragged. “You’re gonna make me lose my fucking mind.”
“Good,” Natty shoots back, her voice breathless. “That’s the idea.”
Julie laughs softly, her lips brushing against your neck. “She’s got you right where she wants you.”
Belle’s voice cuts through the haze from her spot in the armchair, the voice low and soft, almost a moan, the fingers rubbing in a steady rhythm under her panties. “Pretty sure she’s got all of us right where she wants us. Keep going, Nat. You’re killing it.”
Natty’s pace doesn’t falter, her ass slamming down on your cock with every thrust, her pussy clenching around you like she’s determined to drain you dry. The pleasure is overwhelming, building in waves that threaten to pull you under, but you hold on, desperate to make this last as long as possible.
“Come on,” Natty urges, glancing back at you again. “Show me what you’ve got, big guy. Fucking give it to me.”
Natty’s pace is relentless, her thick ass bouncing against your thighs with obscene, wet smacks as her pussy milks you. The sight of her in reverse cowgirl, riding your cock like she’s possessed, makes your chest tighten and your breath come in ragged gasps. Every bounce sends another jolt of pleasure shooting up your spine, the heat in your gut coiling tighter, threatening to snap.
Julie is right on top of you, her lips on your neck, her tongue dragging along the sensitive skin as her fingers pinch and tease your nipples. Each twist and flick sends electric shocks through your body, making your cock twitch inside Natty’s impossibly tight, soaking pussy.
Natty throws her head back, her hair cascading down her back as she grinds her hips in circles, her ass slamming against you with each motion. “Come on,” she growls, glancing over her shoulder at you, her eyes wild with lust. “Pump your cum inside this elf whore's pussy. Fucking fill me up.”
You grip her hips tightly, your fingers digging into her soft, luscious flesh as you thrust up into her, meeting her every movement. The way her pussy grips you, squeezing and pulling like it’s desperate for your cum, drives you to the edge.
“You want me to fill you?” you growl, your voice thick and rough.
“Fuck yes,” Natty moans, slamming herself down on your cock with even more force. “I want all of it. Every fucking drop. Fill me so full I’ll feel it for days.”
Her words send a shiver through you, and you grip her even tighter, pulling her down hard onto your cock. “Say it,” you demand, your voice harsh. “Tell me you want me to breed you.”
Natty moans louder, her head falling forward as she picks up the pace, her hips moving with a wild urgency. “I want it,” she cries out, her voice high and desperate. “Fuck, I want it so bad. Breed me, baby. Please! Fill me with your fucking cum! Make me yours.”
Julie bites your neck, her teeth grazing your skin as her fingers tease your nipples harder. “Listen to her,” she murmurs, her voice dripping with lust. “She’s fucking crazy for you.”
Belle’s laugh echoes from the corner, her voice breathy. “You better not disappoint her, big guy. She’s counting on you.”
Natty’s movements become frantic, her pussy gripping you like a vise as she slams herself down on your cock over and over again. “Come on,” she begs, her voice cracking with need. “I need it. I need you to fucking cum inside me. Fill me up. Breed me like a fucking slut.”
You’re shaking now, your entire body taut as the pleasure builds to an unbearable peak. “Fuck, Natty,” you groan, your hips jerking uncontrollably. “I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna cum.”
“Yes!” Natty screams, her hands gripping her thighs as she rides you harder, her movements wild and uncoordinated. “Do it! Cum in me! Breed me, you fucking stud!”
The words tip you over the edge, and with a guttural moan, you thrust up into her one final time, burying yourself as deep as you can go. Your cock pulses, your seed spilling into her in hot, thick waves, and Natty loses it.
Her entire body shakes as she cums, her pussy clamping down on your cock, milking you for every last drop. “Fuck, yes!” she screams, her head thrown back, her hands clutching at her bouncing breasts as her orgasm rips through her.
Julie watches with wide eyes, her lips parted in awe, while Belle groans softly, her hand moving faster under her panties. “Goddamn,” Belle mutters. “That’s fucking hot.”
Natty doesn’t stop. Even as you cum inside her, she keeps riding you, her hips slamming down with an almost violent force, drawing out every ounce of your orgasm until you’re shaking, your eyes rolling back in your head.
“Take it,” you groan, your voice raw. “Take every fucking drop.”
“Fuck, yes,” Natty moans, her body trembling as her pussy clenches around you, her own release leaving her dripping all over your cock. “I can feel it. So deep. Mmm, so fucking good.”
Finally, she collapses forward onto the bed, her body trembling, your cum leaking from her stuffed pussy as she pants heavily, her face flushed and satisfied. Julie grins, leaning down to kiss you softly.
“You’re a fucking machine,” she whispers against your lips.
Belle laughs, her voice hoarse. “Machine? More like a damn Christmas miracle.”
—
The room smells like sex and sweat, heavy and warm, and you’re sprawled across the bed, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Natty and Julie are curled up on either side of you, their naked bodies pressed against yours like they’ve been there forever. Natty’s thick curves fit snugly against your side, her head resting on your shoulder, while Julie’s toned frame stretches lazily, her fingers idly tracing patterns on your chest.
In the corner, Belle is by the mirror, her dress half off as she scrubs at her skin with a damp washcloth, muttering under her breath about soot and chimneys.
“Should’ve come through the damn door,” she grumbles, glaring at the streaks of black still clinging to her thighs.
“You think?” Julie calls over, her tone dry.
Belle shoots her a look through the mirror but doesn’t respond, focusing instead on her task.
You exhale, finally finding your voice. “Okay, I gotta ask. What’s life like for you guys? The whole elf thing. Is it like a Christmas movie, or is that just marketing bullshit?”
Natty snorts, her fingers trailing lazily down your stomach. “Marketing bullshit. Total propaganda. Santa’s a businessman; he’s gotta sell the magic.”
Julie props herself up on one elbow, smirking. “Don’t get us wrong, it’s not all bad. But it’s not sugar plums and caroling 24/7, either.”
“Yeah?” you ask, glancing between them. “So, what’s it actually like?”
Natty hums thoughtfully, her thumb brushing over your skin. “Busy as hell, for starters. Prep for Christmas is a year-round thing. You think it's just one day, but getting all those gifts ready for billions of kids? It's insane. And the logistics? Nightmare. Planning routes, checking lists twice, dealing with weather issues, and making sure every kid gets exactly what they want. It’s a year-round hustle.”
Julie nods. “We’ve got divisions for everything: toys, logistics, reindeer care, candy production… Don’t even get me started on the gingerbread sector. Those guys are intense.”
Natty chuckles, nudging you with her hip. “And you know that shit about elves being tiny? Total lie. We’re all like this—” she gestures to her body, curves and all, “—which makes squeezing into some of those old workshops a pain in the ass.”
Belle pipes up from the mirror, still scrubbing at a stubborn patch of ash on her shoulder. “And don’t forget the quotas. Everything’s gotta be done yesterday. Santa’s nice and all, but he’s also a hardass when it comes to deadlines.”
You blink, trying to picture Santa as a stern boss, pacing around with a clipboard and barking orders. “So, he’s not the jolly guy in the red suit?”
Julie laughs. “Oh, he is. But don’t let the ‘ho-ho-ho’ fool you. He runs a tight ship. You miss a deadline, and you’re stuck in snow-shoveling duty for a week.”
“Snow-shoveling duty?” you echo, raising an eyebrow.
Natty groans dramatically. “The worst. Endless piles of snow, freezing your ass off while the rest of the team’s inside drinking hot cocoa. It’s brutal.”
Belle, finally satisfied with her cleanup, turns from the mirror, her dress hanging off her shoulders as she walks over to the bed. “And don’t even get me started on reindeer maintenance,” she says, flopping into the armchair nearby. “Those things are divas. You’d think they’d be grateful for the magical oats, but no—Prancer once kicked me because the oats weren’t warm enough.”
“Sounds like a nightmare,” you say, grinning.
“It’s not all bad,” Natty says, shrugging. “We’ve got a pretty tight-knit community. Lots of parties, good food, and the sex—” she winks at you, “—is legendary.”
Julie smirks. “And it’s not like we don’t have perks. Free housing, endless candy canes, and when Santa’s in a good mood, he throws these massive celebrations. Think Mardi Gras, but with more glitter.”
Belle laughs. “And more eggnog. So much eggnog.”
You shake your head, chuckling. “I had no idea the North Pole was this wild. I always pictured it… cleaner. Quieter.”
Natty leans in, her lips brushing against your ear. “Stick around, and maybe we’ll take you there sometime. Show you the real magic.”
Julie hums, her fingers sliding lower on your chest. “But for now, you’re stuck with us. And I’m not hearing any complaints.”
Belle smirks, settling into her chair and crossing her legs. “Not a bad deal, huh?”
You glance around the room—Natty’s warm body pressed against you, Julie’s teasing fingers, Belle’s playful grin—and you can’t help but smile. “Not bad at all.”
The warmth of Julie and Natty pressed against you, their soft bodies against your sides, has you stirring again. It doesn’t take much; their scent, their touch, the memory of the last couple of minutes—it all combines into a haze of arousal that has your cock stiffening between your legs. You glance down, half-laughing at yourself, already semi-hard just from lying there with them.
Natty notices first, her hand brushing lightly over your stomach before trailing lower. She grins when she feels the slight twitch of your cock. “Look who’s ready for round three,” she teases, her dark eyes glinting with mischief.
Julie hums, her fingers joining Natty’s, stroking your chest lightly. “And here I thought we wore him out.”
You chuckle, your breath catching slightly as they touch you. “I guess you underestimated me.”
But your attention shifts to Belle, still perched on the armchair. She’s been quiet, watching, her cheeks flushed pink. “Belle,” you say softly, holding out a hand. “Come here.”
Belle hesitates, glancing between you and the other two before standing. As she approaches, the soft light of the room finally reveals her fully; she’s petite, with small, perky breasts that barely contain their youthful firmness. Her tummy looks soft to the touch, with a gentle curve that accentuates her femininity. It's not flat or toned but deliciously smooth, and only adds to her overall cuteness, making her appear even more delicate and enticing. Her tight, rounded ass complements her figure perfectly, making your cock twitch with anticipation.
She notices you staring and crosses her arms, pretending to be annoyed. “What?”
“Nothing,” you say, smiling. “You’re beautiful.”
Her cheeks flush, and she huffs, climbing onto the bed awkwardly. Julie and Natty make room for her, shifting to the sides, and she kneels between them, looking almost shy.
“I’m not as… experienced as them,” Belle says, her voice quieter than usual.
Natty snickers, leaning against the headboard. “Yeah, no shit. That’s why you stayed in the armchair watching, isn’t it? You were scared.”
“I was not scared!” Belle snaps, glaring at her.
“Sure,” Natty says with a wink.
You reach up, cupping Belle’s cheek gently, and her glare softens as her eyes meet yours. “Hey,” you murmur. “You’re perfect. No need to be shy.”
Her lips part slightly, and you lean in, brushing a soft kiss against her mouth. She gasps softly, her body relaxing as she melts into you, her hands resting on your chest as the kiss deepens.
Natty chuckles behind her, and a second later, her hands slide around Belle’s sides, cupping her small breasts. Belle pulls back from the kiss, gasping as Natty’s fingers pinch and tease her nipples. “See?” Natty says with a grin. “I’ll help you out.”
Julie moves closer, her lips brushing against your neck before trailing down to your chest, her fingers dancing over your abs. “Don’t forget about us,” she murmurs, her tongue flicking over one of your nipples, making you shudder.
You look at the three of them—Belle’s small, trembling frame, Natty’s mischievous grin as she teases Belle’s breasts, Julie’s soft lips trailing down your body—and you can’t help but speak. “You’re all incredible,” you murmur, your voice thick with admiration. “The most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen.”
Julie hums against your chest, her lips curving into a smile. “We’d better be. We’re yours now, after all.”
Natty nods, her hands still on Belle’s breasts. “Once we’re all pregnant, you’re stuck with us. Forever.”
You chuckle softly, your hand sliding between Belle’s thighs, cupping her wet heat. “Best thing that’s ever happened to me,” you murmur, your fingers sliding against her slick folds. “Three perfect girls all to myself? I’ve won the fucking lottery.”
Belle moans softly, her hips jerking against your hand. “You better take good care of us,” she says, her voice breathless.
“I will,” you promise, your fingers brushing against her clit, making her gasp. “I’ll take care of you. All of you.”
Natty grins, her hands sliding down Belle’s sides. “We’ll hold you to that.”
You shift, lying flat on the bed, your hands on Belle’s hips. “Come here,” you say, your voice rough with need. “I want to taste you.”
Belle hesitates for only a moment before nodding, her cheeks still flushed as she straddles your face. Her knees press into the mattress on either side of your head, and she lowers herself slowly, her pink, glistening pussy hovering just above your lips.
You grip her hips, pulling her down, and she gasps as your tongue slides against her folds. She’s sweet and soft, her taste driving you wild as you lick and suck, your tongue swirling around her clit before dipping inside her.
“Oh, fuck,” Belle moans, her hands gripping the headboard as her hips start to rock against your face.
Julie wastes no time, sliding down the bed to take your cock in her hand. She strokes you slowly at first, her eyes glinting with anticipation, before leaning in to wrap her lips around the head, sucking gently.
Natty grins, positioning herself behind Julie. “Let me help,” she says, her hands spreading Julie’s thighs as her tongue dips between them, licking along Julie’s folds.
The sensation of Belle grinding on your face, Julie’s warm mouth on your cock, and the sound of Natty’s tongue working between Julie’s legs is almost overwhelming. You groan into Belle’s pussy, your hands tightening on her hips as you pull her closer, devouring her like you can’t get enough.
Belle’s moans grow louder, her body trembling above you. “Oh, God,” she gasps, her hips moving faster. “You’re so… fucking good at this.”
Julie hums around your cock, her tongue swirling around the head as she takes you deeper. Natty’s muffled moans from behind her only add to the intensity, and you can feel yourself growing harder with every passing second.
Belle’s soft thighs frame your face as she rides your tongue, her sweet, pink pussy dripping with arousal as you devour her. Your hands grip her hips, guiding her movements as you flick your tongue over her clit, sucking it gently before dipping back into her folds. Every little gasp and moan she makes sends a jolt of satisfaction through you, urging you to go harder, deeper.
Above you, Belle’s voice trembles. “Oh, fuck… Oh, God, yes… That’s so fucking good.” Her fingers grip the headboard, her hips moving erratically as she chases her pleasure. “I can’t—oh, my fucking God—”
Meanwhile, Julie has taken your cock in her mouth, her lips stretched around your length as she works you with a fervor that leaves you trembling. She alternates between slow, deliberate bobs and deep, greedy sucks that have your cock twitching in her throat. Her tongue swirls around the head each time she pulls back, lapping at the precum that beads there before taking you deep again, her nose brushing against your pelvis.
Julie moans softly around your cock, her throat vibrating against you as she feels Natty’s hands spreading her ass cheeks from behind. “Natty—what are you—”
Her words cut off into a sharp cry as Natty’s tongue presses against her asshole, teasing the tight ring of muscle with slow, wet strokes. Julie’s body jerks, and her hips push back involuntarily as Natty’s tongue slips inside, swirling and licking with expert precision.
“Fuck,” Julie gasps, pulling off your cock long enough to catch her breath. Her hand strokes you in quick, firm movements as she groans, her voice trembling. “Natty, you’re such a—oh, fuck—such a filthy bitch.”
Natty grins against her, her tongue plunging deeper as her hands knead Julie’s ass. “Damn right,” she murmurs, her voice muffled. “Now keep sucking him, Julie. I’m just getting started back here.”
Julie shivers but obeys, taking your cock back into her mouth with a loud, wet slurp. She’s even more eager now, her lips moving faster, her hand stroking the base in time with her bobs. The combined sensations of her warm, slick mouth and Belle’s pussy grinding on your tongue make your head spin, every nerve in your body alight with pleasure.
Belle’s voice grows higher, more desperate, as her movements become frantic. “Oh, God, oh, God, oh, fuck, I’m gonna—”
You grip her hips tighter, pulling her down hard against your mouth as your tongue flicks over her clit again and again. Her thighs tremble around your head, and she cries out, her body shaking as her orgasm crashes over her.
“Yes, yes, yes!” Belle screams, her hips grinding against your face as you lick her through her climax, her juices dripping down your chin.
Julie moans around your cock, her mouth moving faster as Natty’s tongue works deeper into her ass, licking and teasing with an intensity that leaves her trembling. She pulls back with a gasp, her hand still stroking you as she throws her head back, her voice breaking. “Fuck, Natty, you’re gonna make me cum!”
Natty chuckles, her hands gripping Julie’s hips as her tongue plunges even deeper, her wet, messy sounds mingling with the obscene noises of Julie’s blowjob. “Do it,” Natty growls. “Cum for us, Julie. Let him hear how good it feels.”
Julie’s moans grow louder, her hand tightening around your cock as she strokes you harder, her other hand gripping the sheets. Her body shakes, her voice rising into a scream as her orgasm hits, her thighs clenching around Natty’s face.
“Fuck!” Julie cries, her body jerking as she cums, her hand squeezing your cock as she moans uncontrollably.
Belle slowly climbs off you, her thighs trembling slightly as she kneels beside you on the bed, her flushed face framed by messy blonde hair. She’s still catching her breath, her lips parted, her chest heaving, but the smile she gives you is soft, almost shy.
“You’re fucking amazing,” she murmurs, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “No wonder they can’t get enough of you.”
You grin, still tasting her juices on your lips. “You weren’t so bad yourself.”
Her cheeks flush even deeper, and her eyes dart down to your cock—still rock-hard and glistening with Julie’s spit. She bites her lip, her gaze darkening with anticipation.
“You ready for more?” you ask, sitting up slightly.
Belle nods quickly. “Yeah.”
You guide her onto her back, spreading her legs gently as she lies beneath you. Her small, cute frame is stretched out on the bed, her soft tummy rising and falling with her breaths, her wet, pink pussy practically begging for you. You position yourself between her thighs, the head of your cock brushing against her entrance.
Julie leans back on the bed beside you, her lips curling into a lazy smirk. “Better not scare her off, big guy. She’s still new to all this.”
Belle glares at her but doesn’t respond, her attention fixed entirely on you as you lean over her. Your hands rest on her hips, your cock pressing more firmly against her slick folds, and she shivers.
But before you can push inside, Natty’s voice cuts through the moment. “Wait!”
You both glance up to see her hopping off the bed, her naked body moving with purpose as she heads toward the door.
“Where the hell are you going?” Julie calls after her, annoyed.
Natty doesn’t stop, her voice trailing back. “I saw something in the kitchen. Be right back!”
The three of you exchange confused looks, but you shrug, your attention shifting back to Belle. “Don’t worry about her,” you murmur, leaning down to kiss her softly.
Belle sighs into the kiss, her hands sliding up to rest on your shoulders as you position yourself again. But just as you’re about to push inside, Natty bursts back into the room, climbing onto the bed with something in her hand.
“I’m back!” she announces triumphantly, holding up a candy cane like it’s a trophy.
Julie’s eyes narrow, immediately suspicious. “What the fuck are you doing with that?”
Natty grins wickedly, crawling onto the bed and motioning for Julie to lie down. “Trust me, you’ll like this.”
Julie raises an eyebrow but complies, lying back and spreading her legs slightly. “You’re such a dirty whore,” she mutters, though her tone is more amused than annoyed.
Natty winks. “Takes one to know one.”
She leans down, her tongue flicking out to wet the candy cane before sliding it into her mouth, sucking it slowly. The sight is obscene—her lips wrapped around the striped treat, her tongue swirling over it like she’s giving it the blowjob of its life. When she pulls it out, it’s glistening, coated in her spit.
Belle watches the scene with wide eyes, her breath hitching. “Holy shit,” she whispers, her hands clutching the sheets.
Natty moves between Julie’s legs, guiding the candy cane to her ass. She circles the tight ring of muscle slowly, teasing it, and Julie’s body tenses.
“Relax,” Natty purrs, her other hand stroking Julie’s thigh. “You’re gonna love this.”
Julie groans, her head falling back. “You’re insane. You know that, right?”
“Shut up and enjoy it,” Natty replies, pushing the candy cane in slowly.
Julie gasps as it slides inside, her body arching slightly. “Fuck,” she moans, her hands gripping the sheets.
The sight is enough to drive Belle over the edge. She looks up at you, her eyes blazing with need. “Please,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “I can’t wait anymore. Fuck me.”
You’re no different. Watching Natty work the candy cane into Julie’s ass, hearing Julie’s breathless moans, and seeing Belle’s flushed, needy face beneath you—it’s all too much. You position yourself again, gripping Belle’s hips as you push the head of your cock into her wet, tight pussy.
Belle gasps, her nails digging into your arms as you slide deeper, her walls clenching around you. “Oh, fuck,” she moans, her head falling back. “Oh—god—you’re so big.”
“Fuck, you’re tight,” you groan, your hands gripping her hips as you bottom out, buried to the hilt.
Natty glances up from Julie, a wicked grin on her face. “Looks like someone’s having fun.”
Julie moans louder as Natty twists the candy cane slightly, her hips bucking. “Shut up, Natty,” she gasps. “Keep going.”
You focus on Belle, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in, her tight heat wrapping around you perfectly. Her pussy is tight and wet, gripping your cock with every thrust as you pick up speed, your hips slamming into her with increasing intensity. Her legs wrap around your waist, pulling you closer, her heels digging into your back as if she’s trying to keep you buried as deep as possible.
“Deeper,” she gasps, her voice trembling, raw with need. “Please, fuck me deeper.”
You oblige, driving into her harder, your cock stretching her, filling her completely. Her small body trembles beneath you, her nails clawing at your back as her head tilts back, exposing her neck. You lean forward, your lips brushing against her slick, salty skin, your teeth grazing lightly as you kiss her, your breaths hot and uneven.
“Fuck, Belle,” you murmur against her neck, your voice rough. “You feel so fucking good.”
She moans, her hands clutching at you, holding you close as your bodies press together, sweat and heat mingling as you fuck her. “I can’t… Oh, god… You’re so deep,” she cries, her voice high and desperate.
By your side, Julie’s moans mix with Belle’s as Natty continues to work the candy cane into her ass. Julie’s legs are spread wide, her fingers rubbing her clit in frantic circles as she rocks her hips against the sensation, her breaths coming in sharp, uneven gasps.
“Fuck, this is so dirty,” Julie groans, her eyes fluttering shut as her hips roll against Natty’s hand. “I’ve never… Fuck… No one’s ever done this to me before.”
Natty smirks, twisting the candy cane slightly, earning a loud, shaky moan from Julie. “No one’s ever fucked you like this because no one’s as filthy as us,” she says, her voice dripping with amusement.
Julie lets out a breathless laugh, her fingers moving faster on her clit. “Fuck, you’re right… It’s so fucking good.”
Belle’s voice pulls your attention back to her, her legs tightening around you as you thrust into her, your cock pounding her sweet, slick pussy. “Don’t stop,” she begs, her voice trembling. “Please don’t stop.”
You press your forehead against hers, your bodies glued together as you move, each thrust deeper and harder than the last. Her small frame seems to mold against you, her soft tummy pressing into your abs, her breasts brushing against your chest with every movement.
“I won’t stop,” you promise, your voice rough, almost a growl. “You feel too fucking good.”
Belle’s moans are raw, unfiltered, her arms wrapping tightly around your shoulders as she buries her face in your neck. “Oh, god,” she cries. “I can feel you everywhere. You’re so fucking deep.”
Julie watches you both, her lips parted, her hand pausing briefly as she takes in the scene. “Fuck,” she mutters, her voice husky. “Look at you two. That’s so fucking hot.”
Natty chuckles, leaning closer to Julie, her hand still working the candy cane in and out of her ass. “You think that’s hot? Look at her face. She’s fucking gone.”
Julie laughs breathlessly, her fingers resuming their rhythm on her clit. “Belle, you look like he’s fucking you into another dimension.”
Belle doesn’t respond with words, only a loud, trembling moan as she clutches you tighter, her pussy clenching around your cock like it never wants to let you go.
The intensity builds with every thrust, every moan, every word. You’re driving into Belle with a passion that feels primal, raw, unstoppable, and she takes it all, her body arching, trembling, meeting your movements with frantic need.
“You’re perfect,” you murmur against her skin, your lips finding her neck again. “So fucking perfect.”
Belle’s only response is a choked, desperate cry, her nails digging into your back as she rides the overwhelming sensations.
Julie moans louder behind you, her voice thick with pleasure. “Keep going, big guy,” she urges, her breath hitching. “Fucking destroy her. She’s loving it.”
Natty laughs, her fingers teasing Julie’s clit now as she continues working the candy cane in and out of her ass. “We’re all loving it,” she says, her voice low and sultry.
The heat in the room is almost suffocating, bodies glistening with sweat, the air thick with the scent of sex and arousal. Belle’s moans grow louder, her body trembling against you as her nails rake your back, her pussy tightening around your cock with every thrust. You know you’re close, dangerously close, but you’re not done with her yet.
With a groan, you slide your hands under Belle’s ass and lift her, your cock slipping free for a moment as you shift positions. “Come here,” you murmur, your voice rough and commanding.
Her wide eyes meet yours, her cheeks flushed, and she lets out a shaky gasp as you pull her up into a kneeling position, your bodies pressed together as you sit back on your heels. She straddles you instinctively, her legs wrapping around your waist as you guide her down onto your cock again, the head slipping inside her slick, tight pussy.
“Oh, fuck,” Belle cries, her arms wrapping around your neck as she sinks down completely, your cock filling her to the hilt.
You groan, your hands gripping her hips as you press your forehead against hers, your breaths mingling. The intimacy of the position is electric—her small, soft body pressed against yours, her flushed skin against your chest, her pussy gripping you like it was made for you.
“Fuck, Belle,” you murmur, your lips brushing against her ear. “You feel so fucking good.”
Her voice trembles, her fingers digging into your shoulders. “You’re so deep,” she moans, her hips rocking against you. “I can feel you in my stomach.”
Natty shifts, the air thick with the sound of her own ragged breathing as she pulls the candy cane free from Julie’s slick, stretched ass. Without pause, she rolls to her side, her eyes heavy-lidded with desire as she closes the distance between them. Her thigh slides over Julie’s, skin sticky with the mingling heat of their bodies. Her hips press forward until her wet, swollen pussy meets Julie's in a sticky, urgent clash. The friction sparks a shudder through both of them as she adjusts, their thighs tangling, bodies grinding.
"Alright, give me that sweet pussy, baby.” The sight alone makes your cock twitch inside Belle, and you can’t help but groan.
“Fuck,” Julie mutters, her voice thick with arousal as Natty’s movements create delicious friction. “You really are a dirty whore, Natty.”
Natty grins, her hands gripping Julie’s thighs as she grinds against her, their slick folds sliding together with obscene wet sounds. “Oh, are you surprised, baby?” she purrs, her voice low and teasing.
Belle gasps, her hips moving faster as she rides you, her small body trembling in your arms. “Don’t stop,” she begs, her voice desperate. “Please, don’t stop.”
You grip her hips tighter, guiding her movements as you thrust up into her, meeting her rhythm with raw, passionate intensity. “I’m not stopping,” you growl, your lips finding her neck. “I won't stop until I cum inside that tight little pussy.”
Julie lets out a sharp cry as Natty’s movements grow rougher, her hips bucking against her. “Fuck, Natty,” she moans, her fingers sliding down to rub her clit. “You’re so fucking good at this.”
Natty laughs breathlessly, her body grinding harder against Julie’s. “You're not bad yourself.”
Julie’s only response is a loud, trembling moan, her back arching as the pleasure overwhelms her.
You glance between them, the sight of their scissoring bodies pushing you to the brink. Natty’s thick thighs flex with every movement, her hips grinding in perfect rhythm against Julie’s, while Julie’s fingers move frantically between them, her cries of pleasure filling the room.
Belle’s moans pull your attention back to her, and you grip her tighter, your cock plunging into her with deep, deliberate thrusts. “You’re mine,” you murmur against her neck, your voice rough with need. “All of you. You’re fucking mine.”
“Yours,” Belle gasps, her arms tightening around your neck. “Fuck, I’m yours. Just don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”
Natty groans, her eyes fluttering shut as her body moves against Julie’s, her voice dripping with lust. “This is fucking perfect,” she moans. “Keep going. All of us, together.”
The room is a mess of sounds—moans, gasps, the wet slap of skin against skin—and the heat builds higher, the tension coiling tighter with every second, the pleasure driving you all further, the desire to push each other over the edge growing stronger with every movement.
Belle’s trembling body rocks against yours, her pussy squeezing your cock with desperate, wet heat. Every thrust pushes you closer to the edge, your cock throbbing inside her as her soft moans and whispered pleas echo in your ears. The heat between all of you is unbearable, the air heavy with sweat, arousal, and the raw, primal need that none of you can contain any longer.
You grip Belle’s hips tightly, thrusting up into her as she rides you, her small frame pressing against your chest, her legs wrapped around your waist. “Fuck, Belle,” you groan, your voice ragged. “I’m so close.”
Natty’s voice cuts through the haze, her tone teasing and full of lust. “Oh, yes,” she purrs, her hands gripping Julie’s thighs as she grinds harder against her. “That’s what I like to hear. Come on, big guy, she’s the last one. Fill her up. Make her yours forever.”
Belle gasps, her nails digging into your shoulders as she grinds herself harder against you. Her lips are inches from yours, her breath mingling with yours as she stares into your eyes, her gaze filled with desperation and raw need. “Please,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “Please, make me yours. Breed me. I want to carry your baby.”
Her words send a shiver through your entire body, awakening something deep and primal inside you. Your hips buck up harder, your cock plunging deeper into her, and Belle cries out, her arms wrapping tightly around your neck as she clings to you.
Natty’s grin widens, her voice taking on a teasing edge. “Oh, she’s begging for it now. Look at her, desperate for you to knock her up.”
Julie moans louder, her fingers moving frantically against her clit as her hips buck against Natty’s. “Fuck,” she gasps, her head falling back. “He’s going to make her pregnant, and I can’t… Oh—god—I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna fucking cum.”
The symphony of moans, cries, and wet sounds grows louder, the intensity building to an unbearable crescendo. Julie and Natty’s bodies grind together, slick and desperate, their movements wild and erratic as they chase their pleasure.
Belle’s eyes lock onto yours, her lips trembling as she whispers again. “Please… Please cum in me. Make me pregnant. Make me yours forever.”
Her words are your undoing.
With a guttural groan, you bury yourself as deep as you can inside her, your cock pulsing as your release hits. Hot, thick streams of cum spill into her, and Belle screams, her body shaking against yours as she feels you fill her.
“Fuck!” you growl, your arms wrapping around her tightly, your bodies glued together as you pump her full, your hips jerking with each spurt.
The sensation drives Julie over the edge, her back arching as she screams, her fingers pressing hard against her clit. “Oh, fuck, I’m cumming!” she cries, her body jerking violently as her release hits, squirting all over the bed, her juices splashing against Natty’s thighs.
Natty gasps, her hands gripping Julie’s hips as the wetness spreads between them. “Goddamn,” she mutters, her voice thick with lust. “You’re a fucking mess, Julie.”
Belle clings to you, her breathing ragged, her body trembling as she feels the heat of your cum deep inside her. “Thank you,” she whispers, her voice soft and breathless. “Thank you, thank you…”
You hold her tightly, your chest heaving, your cock still twitching inside her as you press a kiss to her forehead. “You’re mine,” you murmur against her skin. “All of you. Forever.”
Julie collapses against the bed, her chest heaving as she laughs breathlessly. “Forever, huh? You’d better be ready to keep that promise.”
Natty chuckles, leaning over to kiss Belle’s cheek. “He’ll keep it. He’s got no choice now.”
The room falls into a warm, heavy silence, broken only by the sound of your labored breaths and the faint hum of satisfaction that lingers in the air.
You look down at Belle, her eyes shining with a mix of satisfaction and adoration. You can't resist the urge to seal this moment with a hot, passionate kiss. You lean in, your lips meeting hers in a fierce, claiming embrace. Your tongue delves into her mouth, tasting her sweetness, feeling her soft moans vibrate against your lips. Her body melts into yours, her arms wrapping around your neck as she kisses you back with equal fervor.
As you finally break the kiss, you rest your forehead against Belle's, your eyes locked onto hers, reaffirming your claim. "Forever," you whisper, and she nods, a small, content smile playing on her lips.
—
You wake up, but your consciousness seems to have stayed behind, trapped in some deep corner of your brain. Every muscle in your body aches, and your cock feels like it’s been through a marathon—probably because it has. The memories of last night flood back in vivid, explicit detail, and you groan, rolling over in bed.
But… the bed feels empty.
Your eyes snap open, and you’re greeted by nothing but rumpled sheets and an eerie quiet. No Natty. No Julie. No Belle.
“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, running a hand through your hair. “It was a fucking dream, wasn’t it?”
It’s not impossible.
Hell, it wouldn’t even be surprising. You’ve been alone for so long it’s no wonder your brain decided to gift you some kind of depraved Christmas fever dream. But damn, it felt real. The ache in your hips, the dull burn in your back—your body isn’t lying about how thoroughly you were wrecked.
You sigh, dragging yourself out of bed. “Maybe I’ve finally lost it,” you mutter to yourself. “Gone full-on crazy lonely dude. Great.”
Still, the smell of something cooking wafts up from downstairs, and your stomach growls. Dream or not, food sounds like the next logical step. You throw on some sweatpants and shuffle toward the stairs, your feet heavy on the creaking wood.
When you reach the bottom and turn into the kitchen, the sight that greets you makes you stop dead in your tracks.
They’re there.
Julie is in the living room, rearranging the pictures on your walls like she owns the place. Her sleek black hair is tied back, and she’s wearing one of your button-up shirts—too big for her but just short enough to make you gulp.
Natty's in the kitchen, humming to herself as she flips pancakes on the stove, her curves accentuated by the apron that barely covers her, tied loosely around her waist. It's the only thing she's wearing, as a matter of fact.
And Belle? She’s exactly where you’d expect her to be: sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by crumbs, shoving another bite of toast into her mouth. She is wearing one of your shirts. It's massive on her, but she looks so cute and cozy. Her blonde hair is a fluffy cloud of curls, falling haphazardly around her face. It's the most adorable thing ever.
They all turn to you at once, as if on cue.
“Morning, big guy,” Julie says casually, holding up a framed picture of you and your old dog. “You know this was crooked, right?”
“Good morning!” Natty chimes, flashing you a bright smile before flipping another pancake. “I hope you like breakfast. We kind of raided your kitchen.”
Belle waves with her toast, her cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk. “Mmrphning,” she mumbles, crumbs tumbling onto the table.
You just stand there, staring at them, your brain short-circuiting. “You’re… real,” you say finally.
Julie smirks, setting the frame back on the wall. “Of course we’re real. What, you think you hallucinated all that?”
“I wouldn’t blame him,” Natty quips, her tone playful. “Last night was pretty intense. Honestly, I’m impressed he’s still standing.”
Belle swallows her mouthful of toast and grins. “You do look like you got hit by a reindeer or two.”
You blink, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “I… I thought I dreamed it. I woke up, and you weren’t—”
“—in your bed?” Julie finishes, arching an eyebrow. “Yeah, we figured you’d want to sleep in. You earned it.”
Natty plates a stack of pancakes and sets them on the table, her grin widening. “Plus, you looked so cute passed out like that. We didn’t want to wake you.”
Belle grabs a pancake with her bare hands, ignoring the fork sitting right in front of her. “So, are you gonna join us, or are you just gonna stand there gawking?”
You snap out of your daze, shuffling to the table and collapsing into a chair. “This is insane,” you mutter, running a hand through your hair. “You’re real. You’re actually real.”
“Yeah, we established that,” Julie says, sitting down across from you with a cup of coffee. “Now eat. Natty went all domestic goddess for you.”
Natty grins, sliding into the seat next to you and piling your plate high with pancakes. “Don’t get used to it,” she teases. “Breakfast is the only thing I know how to make.”
Belle smirks, her mouth full again. “She’s not kidding. I saw her almost burn water once.”
Natty glares at her, but there’s no real heat behind it. “You’re one to talk, Miss ‘I Eat Cereal with a Fork.’”
You chuckle despite yourself, cutting into your pancakes. “So, this is my life now, huh? Three elves living in my house, eating my food, rearranging my furniture.”
Julie shrugs, sipping her coffee. “Pretty much. We’re pregnant with your babies, remember? You’re stuck with us now.”
Natty leans in, resting her chin on her hand. “Admit it. You love it.”
You glance around the table at the three of them—the sly smirk on Julie’s lips, the playful sparkle in Natty’s eyes, Belle’s adorable, crumb-covered grin—and you can’t help but smile.
“Yeah,” you say softly. “I really do.”
The pancakes are incredible, fluffy and sweet, though the company is sweeter. You shovel another bite into your mouth, glancing between the three of them as they eat—or, in Belle’s case, inhale—at the table. It feels surreal, the warmth of their presence filling the space that, until now, had always felt too empty.
But then Julie sets her coffee down with a soft clink and fixes you with a look that’s somewhere between regretful and serious. “Look, we need to talk,” she says. "There's something you need to know.”
Your stomach flips. “That sounds ominous.”
Natty smirks, nudging your thigh under the table. “Relax. We’re not breaking up with you or anything.”
Belle, mid-bite, chimes in with her mouth full. “We’re pregnant, remember? Well, probably pregnant. Anyway, you're our man now.”
You laugh nervously, but Julie doesn’t budge, her tone calm but firm. “It’s about what happens next. The logistics.”
“Logistics?” you echo, frowning. “What logistics? I thought we just… lived happily ever after or something.”
Julie snorts, crossing her arms. “You think the magic world works like a rom-com? Cute. No, there’s rules. Bureaucracies. Red tape thicker than Santa’s thighs after cookie season.”
Belle raises a hand, still chewing. “Which is always, by the way.”
“Okay, back up,” you say, setting your fork down. “What rules? What are we talking about here?”
Natty sighs, leaning back in her chair. “It’s complicated. We’re technically under North Pole jurisdiction, which means we can’t just pack up and move here full-time. There’s laws against it. Something about maintaining magical secrecy or whatever.”
“Plus,” Julie adds, “having a half-human, half-elf baby is already bending the rules. Some of the North Pole council isn’t exactly thrilled about it.”
You blink. “Wait, what? The council knows?”
Belle grins, finally swallowing her mouthful. “Of course they do. They know everything. They’ve got this creepy snow globe that shows them all the important stuff. Like Santa’s version of the NSA. We're in trouble now, but it's for a good reason.”
“That’s terrifying,” you mutter.
“It’s efficient,” Julie counters.
“But what does that mean for us?” you ask, glancing between them. “Are you saying you’re just going to leave?”
Julie hesitates, glancing at Natty, who takes over. “We’re not leaving you. But we can’t stay full-time, either. For now, we’ll have to visit. Weekends, holidays, that kind of thing.”
“That’s… not what I was expecting.”
“Hey,” Natty says softly, reaching for your hand. “It’s not forever. Once the babies are born, we’ll have more leverage. Interracial babies in the magical world are rare, and they’re considered kind of… important.”
“Important how?”
Belle pipes up. “Well, they’re supposed to be, like, bridges between worlds or whatever. Diplomatic symbols of unity. It’s a whole thing.”
Julie rolls her eyes. “Which is ironic, considering how much the council hates dealing with them.”
Natty nods. “Yeah, but it works in our favor. They can’t exactly ignore us when the kids come along. We’ll push for a reassignment so we can all live together.”
“Reassignment?” you ask, feeling like you’re still two steps behind.
Julie leans forward, her tone all business. “Basically, we’d petition for you to come live at the North Pole. It’s rare, but it happens. Usually for special cases, like this one.”
“You’d really want me to come with you?” you ask, your voice soft.
Natty grins. “Duh. You think we’d go through all this just to ditch you?”
Belle nods vigorously. “We’re a package deal now. Besides, you’d love it at the North Pole. Endless hot cocoa, magical reindeer, zero commute time—it’s awesome.”
Julie smirks. “And cold as hell. Better invest in thermal underwear.”
You laugh despite yourself, the weight in your chest lifting slightly. “So, what happens until then?”
Natty squeezes your hand. “We’ll make it work. We’re not going anywhere, not really. And who knows? Maybe we’ll even get you on the Nice List permanently.”
Belle snickers. “That’s a stretch.”
Julie shoots her a look before turning back to you. “We’re serious, though. You said you wanted a family, handsome, well now you've got yourself a big one. You’re ours now, and we don’t take that lightly.”
The warmth in her voice is undeniable, and you find yourself smiling. “You’re mine too, you know.”
Natty grins, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “Damn right we are.”
Belle, already reaching for another pancake, grins around her fork. “Better get used to it, lover boy. Three elf girls are no joke.”
—
The pancakes are history, coffee mugs bone dry, and sunlight floods the kitchen, casting everything in this weirdly golden, almost-too-perfect glow. Julie, Natty, and Belle are still parked around the table, eyes pinned on you like you’re the main event.
Julie’s the first to break the silence, her voice calm but carrying that no-bullshit weight. “Alright,” she says. “There’s one more thing we gotta hash out.”
“More bureaucratic bullshit?” you ask, half-joking, half-dreading.
Natty leans into her palm, a sly grin tugging at her lips. “Nah, not this time. This one’s about you. What you want.”
Belle tilts her head, her blonde hair catching the light. “Yeah, like… this whole setup? It’s not exactly your typical ‘happily ever after.’ Magic babies, council breathing down our necks, all of us living together—it’s a lot. Like, a lot a lot.”
Julie leans forward, her eyes dead serious but with a softness underneath that makes you pay attention. “We need to know if you’re really in this. Like, all in. This isn’t some fling or a one-night thing that spiraled out of control. This is real. It’s us. It’s a family. Forever. And if you’re gonna bolt or start second-guessing once we start building this life, we need to know now. Because if you’re not solid… it’ll wreck us.”
The word “wreck” just sits there, heavy as hell, daring anyone to argue with it.
You take a moment, looking at each of them. Julie’s got that sharp, take-no-prisoners look softened by something way more raw. Natty’s smirking, sure, but there’s a flicker of doubt behind it. And Belle, sweet Belle, is practically radiating hope, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of the shirt.
“I’m in,” you say, no hesitation. “For all of it. The magic, the council, the chaos. But mostly, I’m in for you. For us. For this family we’re building. Whatever it takes.”
Belle’s lips part in surprise, and her eyes well up slightly. “You mean that?” she whispers.
You nod, reaching across the table to take her hand. “Of course I mean it. I’ve spent enough Christmases alone to know what I don’t want. And what I want is right here.”
Natty’s grin returns, bright and full of mischief. “You realize we’re not exactly the poster-perfect family, right? You’ve got a dirty-mouthed toy-maker, a bossy logistics queen, and a cookie-devouring disaster. Not to mention the kids we’re about to have? That’s a circus waiting to happen.”
You chuckle, glancing at Belle, who’s already looking at the fruit bowl in the corner of the kitchen. “It’s not normal, no. But normal’s overrated anyway.”
Julie’s lips twitch into a faint smile, and she tilts her head. “You’d really give up your life here for us? Your home, your routines, everything you know?”
You shrug, a warm smile spreading across your face. “Home isn’t a place. It’s people. And I don’t need routines—I need you. All of you. Even Belle eating me out of house and home.”
Belle laughs, her cheeks pink. “You’d miss me if I didn’t.”
Natty leans closer, her eyes glinting with amusement. “And the council? The North Pole? That’s a whole different world, you know. It’s not just hot chocolate and snowball fights. You sure you’re ready for that?”
You meet her gaze, unwavering. “I’m ready for anything, as long as it’s with you.”
Julie lets out a soft breath, her shoulders relaxing for the first time all morning. “Well, shit,” she mutters, a smile tugging at her lips. “I didn’t think you’d actually say yes.”
Natty snickers. “Guess we’re stuck with him now, huh?”
Belle squeezes your hand, her grin wide and genuine. “Good. I like being stuck with him.”
Julie rolls her eyes but smiles, reaching out to rest her hand over yours. “Then it’s settled. You’re ours, big guy. Welcome to the weirdest family you’ll ever know.”
You laugh, your chest warm, full, complete. “It’s a family,” you say softly. “And that’s all that matters.”
Natty leans back in her chair, her grin wide. “Weird or not, it’s ours. And I have a feeling we'll be very happy.”
Belle beams, looking at everyone at the table with a certain enthusiasm. “Same.”
Julie claps her hands. “Okay, enough of the sappy shit. Let’s toast to this insanity.” She grabs the pitcher of orange juice and starts pouring it into the mugs around the table.
Julie lifts her mug, her voice low but steady. “To family. The unconventional kind.”
Natty raises her cup, her grin wicked. “To the craziest family of the North Pole.”
Belle lifts her juice, her eyes sparkling with the sunlight and something more. “To us.”
Julie locks eyes with you, her voice calm but full of unshakable resolve. “To family. The kind that doesn’t play by the rules.”
You raise your cup with a laugh. “To family.”
And for the first time, it feels like the holidays aren’t just another lonely season—they’re the start of something real. Something yours. Something forever.
#gg smut#kpop m!reader#natty kiof#natty smut#belle kiof#Belle smut#Belle kiof smut#Natty kiof smut#belle kiss of life#natty kiss of life#julie smut#julie kiof#julie kiss of life#Julie kiof smut#kpop smut#kpop fluff#kpop gg#kpop gg smut#kpop male oc#kpop male reader#m!reader#male reader#smut oneshot#m! reader#kiss of life#kiof smut#kiof belle#kiof natty#Kiof julie#kiss of life natty
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Please please please bless me with more baby daddy Jason. I’m so obsessed with it 😭 just thought about if he caught you staring a little too long at him being a good father he would make fun of how sexy you find him and how you still want him
Oh, how this has lifted my mood after getting covid during the holiday season🙏I can totally see him getting cocky like that, too. Just imagine this man letting out a near-silent scoff as he catches your gaze wandering across his muscles as he picks up your daughter
BabyDaddy! Jason Todd Part 2
BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who doesn't actually bother you too much after that night you spent together. To your surprise, he doesn't expect much of anything in return. That moment simply turned into an unacknowledged secret that only the two of you would ever know about.
BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who still tries to show up to every little preschool function or birthday party your daughter has, despite the unspoken tension between you two. Despite what that little voice in your mind was screaming to do, you actually started inviting him to those kind of things. Typically, he would've just shown up unannounced.
BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who starts acting like your boyfriend or husband at parent-teacher conferences. On the rare occasion that the both of you show up to discuss your daughter with her teachers, they assume that you're together as a couple. Jason, ever the sly bastard, doesn't correct them.
You don't, either.
BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who actually starts playing into the role as soon as your 'relationship' gets brought up in public. If you happen to be sitting close enough, he'll grab your hand and start tracing invisible circles onto the back of it with his thumb. If you're really close, Jason will absolutely go as far as to sling an arm around your shoulders.
BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who is the biggest topic around the other single mothers at your daughter's daycare or preschool. Almost every time he makes an appearance, somebody asks for his number or tries to make small talk. He giggles like an idiot every time you have to scold him for giving them all the rejection hotline number.
BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who, when he does get asked about relationships by other women at your daughter's childcare facilities, will say that you're together in a committed relationship with no hesitation. He isn't really sure why he does it, either. It only really came about after you two slept together a few months ago.
To be fair, you do call Jason your boyfriend when a creepy guy asks you out.
BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who starts hanging out with you casually when he gets the chance. You've ripped him a new one a few too many times when telling him to keep out of excessive danger. What better way to spend his off time now that he doesn't do huge missions than being with his two favorite girls?
BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who somehow manages to blend right back into your life when he puts vigilante work to the side a little. He's there to pick up your daughter from day care or playdates when you need him to. He's cooking dinner for you and the little one on a rough day before you even have to ask.
BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who knows exactly how you feel about him. He sees the way your eyes linger as he stands in your kitchen cooking or how your gaze drifts to his biceps as he picks up your daughter to bring her to bed. "Eyes are up here, sweetness," is what he teases every time he catches your stares.
BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who is knocking on your door mere minutes after you've texted or called him having a breakdown when your daughter is at a sleepover. He doesn't even care what you're crying about, you're scooped up into his arms instantly. "Shhh... I have you," is one of the constant reassurances he mutters into your hair, "I'm right here. You're not alone."
BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who has you practically sitting on his lap as he holds you, his calloused hands rubbing up and down your back in a soothing motion. You don't even remember when the slipped under the hem of your (his old) shirt to rub gently at your bare skin.
BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who listens to you talk, no matter how stupid or silly your problems seem whe compared to his own. He knows better than to give advice other than when you ask for it, so he simplu holds you and listens. "I know, I know..." Is all he coos into your slightly mussed hair as his hands rub and massage your skin.
BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who waits until you're done speaking to move or say anything. "Look, baby..." You hate how much you still love the petname, "I know it's tough. Trust me, I know." You hate how you love him. "But I'm here, alright? I... I'm sorry I have a tendency to walk out on both of you, but... I'm here now. I'm here as whatever you need me to be. If you need me to stay for you and her, I will. If you need me to leave, I'll go without another thought."
"If you want to forget about what happened the other night, then we'll both forget about it. If you don't want to..." You didn't let him finish, instead capturing his slightly parted lips with your own.
BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who only pulls away when you do, the pupils of his beautiful green eyes dilated as he looks down at you in his lap. His hands never cease their movement caressing the fat and muscles of your back as he lets out a soft huff of amusement. "You're absolutely crazy getting involved with me voluntarily, doll face." Even as he tries to play it off, you can hear the affection and fondness in his voice.
BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who takes his time with you instead of rutting into you like an uncaged animal. His hands are slow as they roam across your body, relearning every single one of your curves and crevices like it's the first time he's seen your naked body. Each motion is filled with such care and adoration that you question why you ever split up, even if just for a moment.
BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who takes every single ounce of your stress away without trying. It doesn't matter that he's only slept with you once or twice in the past couple of years, he's drawing out every single orgasm he can from your pretty little pussy.
BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who says the nastiest things when hooking up with you. He absolutely gets off on the thought of getting you pregnant again, but he knows better after thinking about the situation the two of you are in. "You're fucking milking me for all I've got, ma," he grunts out as he pounds you relentlessly from behind, his large hands almost dwarfing your hips as he holds them for leverage, "I'm gonna fill this pussy up all over again. You'd like that, huh? You want another little me running around this joint?"
BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who, surprisingly, stays the morning after. It isn't picture perfect- nothing ever is- but it's still... Calm. Peaceful. Home. Like something you've never gotten with him before. The pair of you are still completely in the nude, your bodies tangled beneath the mess of sheets. But as your eyes flutter open with the first rays of morning light, the sight of Jason with small clumps of black and white hair stuck to his forehead from the previous night feels right.
BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who starts sticking around for a few days at a time after that. You're not sure just how it happened, but your daughter certainly loves it. She missed her daddy being around more often instead of being told that he was 'on a work trip' when it wasn't safe for Jason to see her.
BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who doesn't miss a beat when your sweet, innocent daughter asks if he's staying this time and if mommy will stay too. "Of course I am, baby girl," Jason, of course, makes direct eye contact with you as he says this before lifting the toddler into his lap. "Promise?" A smile. An actual, genuine smile that only she can get from him. "Promise."
How could you possibly say no to that?
Masterlist
#batfam#batfamily#batman#dc#redhood#jason todd x reader#jason todd x reader fluff#jason todd x reader smut#jason todd fluff#jason todd smut#jason todd#red hood x reader#red hood smut#red hood fluff#red hood#red hood x reader smut#red hood x reader fluff#arkham knight smut#arkham knight x reader#arkham knight#arkhamverse
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I Saw My Uncle Kissing Santa Claus
"You really gotta tell him man," Tommy hears Howie's voice coming into the kitchen from the hall. He's about to come in, but the answering voice makes Tommy stop.
"I know," Evan says, sounding odd. "I can't keep this a secret for much longer, it will just make things awkward for Tommy. He needs to be prepared for whats to come."
Tommy's brows furrow at that, and his palms feel sweaty all the sudden-
Things were going good between them, slow sure, but better then it was before. Stronger. This is their first Christmas together since their last one was spent apart and Tommy-
Is overthinking.
Tommy steps into the kitchen then and is met with two identical looks of surprise.
He's been caught.
"No time like the present, hey Buck," Howie grins as he claps Buck on the back before walking past Tommy. Howie then winks at Tommy, and any thoughts he had to worry melt away.
"You know you should really be the one to tell him-" Evan starts but Howie interupts him.
"You owe me big time, good luck, thank you!" Howie sing songs before he's stepping out of the kitchen, leaving a pouting Evan behind.
Tommy decides he just has to kiss that pout and Evan smiles against his lips before grabbing at Tommy's waist and bringing him in for a deeper kiss.
"You're-" A kiss. "Stalling."
"Okay," Evan admits. "I have something to tell you, and ah - I guess, I guess ask of you to." He starts, rambling. "And it-it's kinda cute?"
"Cute?" Tommy asks, raises a brow. "What-"
"Jee thinks you're Santa." Evan blurts out and Tommy's eyes widen.
Out of all the things he expected, that wasn't one of them.
"She. Thinks. I'm. Santa."
"Yup." Evan pops the 'p' at the end.
"Um, why?" Tommy asks, and he's leaning against the counter now, confused at the turn of events.
"She has a list," Evan says and he pulls it out of his pocket to present it to Tommy. The piece of paper has Jee-Yun all over it, from the stickers of every genre to the glittery writing. It makes Tommy smile when he looks at it.
"Why Tommy is Santa-" Evan starts and he clears his throat, being a little dramatic.
"One. He flies." Evan starts and Tommy nods his head.
"I do fly-"
"And so does Santa," Evan pokes at Tommy's chest. "Can I continue?" Tommy makes a motion to do so, and Evan lifts the list off again to read it off.
"Two. Tommy took us to see reindeer, and Santa has reindeer." That was true, Tommy knew a guy who worked for the zoo and was on a team that was rehibiliating some reindeer. Tommy had taken Jee and Evan there a few weeks ago.
"Three. He has a long red coat." That one was a stretch, but Tommy wouldn't argue against it. He had a long wool coat for when he camps out in the mountains, and it was indeed red, though it was a more muted shade then he thought Santa would wear. Jee had seen it last week when she had been over for the night with her brother to give Maddie and Howie a night off.
"Four - and this is where it gets cute," Evan says, completely fond of both his niece and his boyfriend. "He has a big smile and he laughs and makes people happy."
"That's sweet," Tommy says, blushing. He ducks his head and Evan steps closer into his bubble, wrapping his arms around Tommy.
"There's more, like how you always remember what kind of gifts people want and ah-" Evan pauses briefly something that happens sometimes whenever their breakup came into the conversation. "You were gone last Christmas, and I think she thought you were busy."
"Being Santa." Tommy huffs, shakes his head. "Better than what actually happened."
They've talked about it, how Tommy threw himself into work to cope with everything. It wasn't healthy, but he's working on it.
Evan nods his head and the hand on Tommy's waist squeezes.
"She still believes," Evan says. "And with the baby this year, I think she feels a little left out. So when they got into Christmas folklore at school, I think she latched onto the idea that you were Santa. It's why she's been so shy today."
"Okay," Tommy nods his head. He gets it. Believing in something when things were a little difficult could get you through hard times. His old man had told him the truth about Santa when he had been young, and Tommy didn't have that little bit of Christmas magic growing up.
"Do you want me to tell her I'm not?" Tommy asks, undure what they should do here. Evan shakes his head then and Tommy relaxes.
"Chimney and Maddie want to talk to her about it, they just didn't want you to think she was ignoring you-" Evan grins. "I think she's trying to be on the good list. I've never seen her room so clean."
Tommy huffs out a laugh at that. He had thought it was a little strange that Jee hadn't come running to them for a hug when they came, but he figured that she was just being quiet for her brother's sake.
"And what list are you on?" Tommy asks Evan, voice low as his eyes dart over Evan. The other man snorts out a laugh then before he pulls Tommy in for a kiss.
"I think I've been on the good list, Santa-" Evan whispers in Tommy's ear.
Tommy tries.
He really does, but he lasts about two seconds before he bursts into laughter. Evan joins him then, and it feels good, laughing with his boyfriend.
"Uncle Buck?" Tommy hears, and he sees the very person they were talking about coming into the kitchen. "Can we play cowboys and princesses and aliens?" She asks and Evan straightens away from Tommy and he gestures as if he's wearing a cowboy hat, tipping it to Jee and the girl giggles in return.
"I reckon the Princess Cowboys have a lot to do before Christmas Evan tomorrow." Evan says in an exxagerated southern accent.
Tommy is completely charmed by him.
"Are you too busy to play Uncle Tommy?" Jee asks and Tommy feels like his heart skips a beat.
That was the first time Jee has ever called him 'Uncle.'
"Yeah, that sounds fun. Can I be a Princess?" Tommy asks and follows Jee and Evan back into the living area.
He prefers Unlce to Santa, anyday.
#bucktommy#tommy kinard#evan buckley#chimney han#jee yun buckley han#my writing#tevan#911 abc#totalnerdwrites#christmas#all mistakes are my own
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oh my gosh need sub!choso bent over and taking it like the princess he is! want to pull his hair and make him cry IM BEGGIMG 😵💫 making him go non-verbal and babble absolute nonsense LIKE PLEASE GIVE IT TO ME 😩😵💫
a little dumbification and feminization doesn't hurt anybody 🥺
So fucking self-indulgent that I am ashamed
Dom!reader x sub!choso x reader is gn
Warning: pegging (I use dick for strap), teasing, dacryphilia, hair pulling, feminisation, subspace, dumbification lul
You panted, slightly exhausted as you reached your hand out. Using only your index and middle fingers, you gently brushed them over the line following his back. From the top all the way to the bottom, feeling his hot and sweat covered skin underneath your touch, going until your hand was resting right above his ass. There, you moved it to the side, finding a nice place to rest it and squeezing his waist with just the right amount of strengh.
And Choso shuddered and withered oh so sweetly, head pressing against the already wet pillow as he arched his back even more. Shoulder jumping upwards while his muscles tensed, trembling like a hurt animal. “Didn’t like it?” You asked, reaching your hand out again, this time to stroke his black hair. His buns had come off, and it was hanging loose over his shoulders. The man beneath you didn’t manage to answer your question, in contrary, he whined out, “ah- aHh..! Y/n-~~ too mu- muUuchh, too faaast..!!♡♥︎”
How could you expect him to even register the fact you asked him something when you are currently pounding him like there’s no tomorrow? Like a hungry beast trying to devour him whole? Taking advantage of all his weak spots while he’s in such a vulnerable position, you’re too mean to him! “Oh dear, can’t say anything other than that?” You asked in a condescending tone, scraping his scalp as you held him tighter with your other hand.
“I’ll help you then.” A cheeky giggle before you pulled back enough for the tip to slid out of his puffy hole, watching him clench onto nothing as a dissatisfied whimpers ripped from his throat. “Nghh~ please… s-stick it back in—” you pulled on his fairly long hair, causing him to moan out loudly and throw his head back, “ah- annNghhh.?!” Tears rolled down his cheeks, and his lips were swollen from him biting on them too much. His cheeks flushed so cutely as he hiccuped.
“Such a needy thing, you really want to be fucked dumb?” Your grip on his hair loosened a little, and his head fell forward. He gritted his teeth, hands bawled into fists and kept right below his mouth as he sound back into the pillows, nodding furiously. “What a pillow princess.” You chuckled, kissing his hole with the tip of your dick. Just testing him, watching his body squirm in anticipation before pushing it all inside him with a swift movement of your hips.
That wasn’t difficult at all, considering he’s been so stretched already, so good and prepared, just for you. He was so eager he basically sucked you right in, that cute little boy cunt of his fluttering around you, taking you so good. You subconsciously licked your lips at the gorgeous view in front of you. He had such a nice body too, pair that with the most adorable expression and lewd noises he’d make, lord he was exactly your type.
“Aaarghh— ♡ nnNnggg…!! Please, y-y/n ♡♥︎♡~?!!” The moment you re-entered him, he felt like he was in heaven. Tongue rolling out, eyes teary as he groaned, not knowing just how loud and erotic his voice was. If he knew, he’d be so embarrassed. “Oh? Such a pretty sound you made there, so cute, just like a girls moans~” you hugged him from behind, head pressed against his shoulder, whispering sickeningly sweet, “should I change to calling you my good girl?”
It took a bit until he understood your words, you helped him by slowing down your thrusts. Then his ears turned red, and he cried out, “n-no, m’not a g-girl..??” Then his brows furrowed and eyes rolled into the back of skull, al because you hit that sweet little spot inside him with such precision he was trembling all over. “Are you sure~? Don’t you love it when I fuck your pussy like this?” You rolled your hips in a slow, steady motion, and it made him see stars.
God, his mind if so foggy, so mushy he couldn’t handle all this ecstasy. The pleasure was too overwhelming…! And if you were to start calling him your— ah — your good girl too, he definitely will melt. “Please, j-just fuck me and shut u-up..” ah, there it is, now he’s being self aware again, feeling humiliated just by having sex. Well, you’ve toyed with him enough for now, haven’t you? Any more teasing and he’ll really come~ but the night is still so young, he still has to last for a bit.
“Haha,” you couldn’t help but chuckle loudly, which only added to his frustration and excitement, then you mumbled, “whatever for my princess.”
#sub jjk#sub jujutsu kaisen#sub choso#choso jjk#choso jujutsu kaisen#choso x you#choso smut#choso x y/n#choso kamo#choso x reader#jjk choso#jujutsu kaisen choso#choso x gn reader#jjk x y/n#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x gender neutral reader#jjk x gn!reader#sub character#sub!character#dom reader#dom!reader#dom gn reader#sub character x dom reader#dom reader x sub character#haven’t wrote such a perverted fic in a long time#oh yea and I deleted my entire progress on kinktober today cuz I didn’t like the flow of the story I wrote#like I found it too cringe and I just#bam#deleted it all ehe
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*sigh* literally NOWHERE in this article is it claimed that Musk wants to own Wikimedia, nor have I seen anything suggesting that claim elsewhere. All that's being done is him wanting folks to stop donating - mind you, Wikimedia still has a very healthy amount of cash and endowment at the ready. They are not struggling by any means today, and I highly doubt Wikimedia would ever entertain Musk buying them or letting him have significant control over their projects.
Donate to folks who need the help. Not a foundation that is, as of today, doing just fine and isn't in immediate threat due to cash flow problems. Wikimedia has problems but they're structural re: getting editors on board in the long run, not because they won't have any money in six months.
If you ARE going to donate to any group, make it somewhere like archive.org - they do significant work, y'know, *archiving* research and books and music and movies and such. Let alone how useful the Wayback Machine is for trying to archive the world wide web. This isn't to say Wikimedia doesn't do good work, far from it, but there is little reason to believe them *or* archive.org will go under very soon.
Outside of Wikimedia or Archive.org, there are tons of people who a few bucks could be a big deal to them right now - either in direct mutual aid, or in community efforts to stretch dollars as far as possible. People need help making rent, paying for groceries, getting out of dangerous situations. And food banks & community kitchens can get deals you'd never be able to get yourself, and turn ten dollars into much more work done than you could do solo.
While Christmas Day is the last day anyone should ask for you to spend more money, I'm asking you to spend more money. A dollar. Five dollars. Whatever you've got. Elon Musk wants to own Wikipedia - one of the last reliable sources out there, and the only one not owned by a billionaire or corporation.
If you can't donate, this message isn't for you and you should not feel bad.
If you can donate to Wikipedia to keep it out of Musk's filthy, blood-stained hands, please do.
Here's the donations page.
#read the fucking article please because literally nowhere is it mentioned that he wants to buy it#why would he want to buy wokepedia anyways if he hates it do much#regardless wikimedia has made it VERY clear yesr after year that *they aren't selling jack shit*#They. Are. Fine.#donate to folks who need help. donate to organizations that need help.#not non-profits that have millions on standby in case of emergency.
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First Kiss — The Leftovers x gn! reader
summery: your first kiss with your lover.
tw: none.
a/n: I wasn't sure what to call the students who aren't vice/housewardens so now they're deemed the leftovers (sorry Cater 😔). Also, MERRY CHRISTMAS!
wc: 2.6k (~340 per character)
Master List | Housewardens | Vicehousewardens
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Cater Diamond
The atmosphere was warm and soft as you both were hanging out in Cater’s room, is what I would like to say, but it was anything but that. You and Cater decided to have a ‘picnic’ (it wasn’t planned, you both bought your lunches and went to eat in the courtyard) and apparently your confession was a little too hot. What did your blabbermouth happen to say (was it really a blabbermouth if you were just telling a trusted friend something personal)? Well, you happened to let slip that you haven’t had your first kiss yet, and for some reason Cater couldn’t wrap his head around that. He didn’t seem to know how to react, mouth opening and closing as he doubted your sentence. You were so pretty and he found himself falling for you so easily, so the thought of no one else seeing you the way he does left him flabbergasted. And the juicy gossip he was (he just needed to understand this better), he kept prying; ‘weren’t you curious?’ yes, ‘has no one asked to?’ no, ‘has no one asked you out?’ no. That last went sent him on a whole other spiral, but he tried to store that in his head for another time. By the end of his little interrogation, he felt frustrated for you. And sevens, that bashful, saddened look made his heart plummet, and gosh did he want to kiss you silly, to prove whatever false things were rattling in your mind at that moment were wrong, and it seemed that Cater’s control was slipping, the suggestion spilling past his lips before he could stop it; ‘we could kiss, just so you know what it feels like.’ His heart leapt as you eyed him like you were actually pondering it, and that little nod of your head made his heart race. The kiss was soft, hesitant, unsure, but sweet. Hands were kept to themselves, unsure how far you were both willing to cross the line, and as you pulled away, the both of you could only long for more.
“W-well, if th-there’s any other firsts you want to break, caycay’s always here~”
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Deuce Spade
The both of you just had the most spectacular date, you had a ton of fun and Deuce seemed to enjoy himself as well. The boy had been a blushing mess, tripping over words and trying to be as gentlemanly as possible, and you were eating up the cute display. He had argued that he couldn’t let you walk home alone, and so there you stood, on your doorstep just a few inches taller than normal. Deuce watched diligently, like there was a chance you would get hurt in the two steps it would take you to get inside (after what you experienced on campus it was a very real fear). You smiled softly at the dark haired boy, thanking him for the wonderful date. In return he managed to blush once more, scratching the back of his neck as he tried to formulate a proper response. So, to tease the poor guy some more, you leaned over and placed a kiss on his cheek, watching on in amusement as Deuce seemed to shut down. You hid your cheeky grin behind your hand as he spluttered, trying to say something, but he managed to cut you off guard as he stared in wonder, face a bright red, muttering out ‘could…could you do that again?’. Who were you to deny him? Holding his cheeks, you placed another kiss, this time on the corner of his lips before you found yourself showering his entire face in kisses. You weren’t sure where all this affection was coming from, but neither of you were complaining. As you pulled away once more, you bit your lip before acting on impulse and leaving the lightest, barely there peck on his lips.
“I-I…u-uh…th-thank you. I…I hope we can go on another date…soon.”
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Ace Trappola
You were rightfully pissed. Ace had been teasing you nonstop about how ‘nobody wanted to date you’, and honestly? It was starting to get under your skin, your old (and normal) insecurities popping up once more. You have been working on it! And just like that he had erased your hard work in improving your mental health. And so what were you doing? Giving him the silent treatment. If he was going to be a jerk then you were going to ignore him. But you weren’t sure how much longer you could handle it, as Ace had been finding any and every way to get on your nerves. You clenched your fist as Ace continued to poke your cheek. You were either going to bite his finger off or twist his arm behind his back if he was going to keep this up. It wasn’t until he asked the dreaded question; ‘what did he do to get you so angry?’ The dam had been broken, and you found yourself venting all your frustrations on him, from his insults to how it affected you, it was all released. The look of horror on the ginger’s face made you feel somewhat satisfied. You were a bit surprised when he apologized so heartfeltly, he genuinely looked appalled at his own behavior for once. It was only a few weeks later when things took a turn. Ace was sleeping at your dorm, and the two of you were hanging out when he asked an out of pocket question; ‘do you wanna kiss?’ It was late, he was too tired to keep his filter up, and gosh did you look kissable (it was the main reason why he was teasing you in the first place). Against your better judgment, you agreed. The kiss was awkward, neither of you sure how far to go, but you’re kinda angry at how much you liked it.
“...you’re better at that than I thought…n-not that I think of kissing you or anything-”
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Jack Howl
You watched the weirdo in front of you with a blank face, wishing you could be anywhere but there. This guy decided he wanted to flirt with you, and he was doing it in the worst way possible. I mean who tries to pick someone up by asking to kiss them outright? You kept glancing at Jack, who stood intimidatingly next to you, buff arms crossed as he glared at the guy, but made no move to say anything. You felt a sneer fall over your lips unconsciously as the guy continued to try and shoot his shot, couldn’t he see he was getting nowhere? You tried to let him down nicely before, so this time you decided to be more blunt, stating that you weren’t interested and you don’t just go out kissing people. That was when the guy lashed out, crying out about how you were a jerk, that you were just like everyone else who only cared about themselves. It was when he looked like he was reaching out for you, and you flinched back for Jack to step in (quite literally). Standing in front of you his glare turned dangerous, fangs showing as he snarled, telling the guy to get lost. The both of you finally relaxed when the guy scrambled to get away, leaving you with the wolf beastman. ‘Thank you,’ You muttered, leaning up and kissing him on the cheek. A smug smile tugged at your lips as Jack glanced away, a soft pink dusting his tanned cheeks. ‘Oh, did I miss?’ you teased, eyes catching the way his ear twitched. So, as the merciful person you were, you leaned up and left a small, short, gentle kiss to his lips.
“Hm, i-if you find yourself in need of help, d-don’t be afraid to come to me.”
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Floyd Leech
You had already found yourself in a tough predicament. You were in the clutches of Floyd Leech when he was in a bad mood. Sure, he was the one who sought you out to squeeze, but you wanted to make sure you didn’t make it worse in any way. So you resigned yourself to your fate as his personal human plushie as he squeezed you from time to time, burying his face in your neck as he grumbled on unintelligently about one thing and another. You brushed your hands through his hair, placing small kisses to the top of his head here and there, feeling relieved as he started to melt in your hold, teeth scraping against your skin as he smiled. You shivered at the sensation, hair on end once more. ‘Oh shrimpy~’ he cooed, giggling like a mad man, face suddenly very much in your own. ‘I wanna kiss’. The request was simple, blunt, but it still left you reeling. You weren’t sure why, in fact, you should be surprised it took so long for him to ask for one, but you still found your eyes widening and breath hitching at the spontaneity of it all. You weren’t sure if you’d ever get used to it (you suppose that was the appeal to Floyd). You could barely get out the words okay before Floyd pressed his lips to yours in a harsh manner, teeth clashing, lips being bit, hand on the back of your head so you couldn’t pull away. In fact, he wouldn’t stop kissing you, it seemed like forever until he finally got his fill.
“Hehe, you better watch out shrimpy~ I’m already craving another.”
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Epel Felmier
Your eyes widened as you eyed the intricately carved apple, turning it around to catch every detail. You weren’t sure what you did to deserve such a gift, but you were flattered nonetheless, your eyes finally raising up to meet Epel’s cyan ones. He looked bashful, cheeks tinted a light pink, eyes unable to meet your own. He tripped over his words, trying to make an excuse, stating that no one else was around so you might as well have it (you’ll ignore the fact that there were, in fact, people swarming around the cafeteria like flies). Without a second thought, you gave him a short peck on the cheek and continued business as usual. It wasn’t until Epel kept doing things for you, something that had only recently started. Epel…wasn’t mean by any means, but he also wasn’t one to help someone from the kindness of his heart. Sure, he’d do something for you before while complaining a ton, but recently he had been doing things without you even asking! It was strange, and he always seemed expectant afterwards, like he was expecting you to do something. Not to mention the little pout he thought he hid when you didn’t seem to do what he was anticipating. So, you decided to confront him, asking him outright what he wanted. Of course, he deflected, stating that he didn’t want anything and you were being crazy. A claim he wasn’t able to hide behind for long as you pointed out all the strange ways he’s been acting. Face burning red, Epel turned away, trying to keep his composure, but you seemed to be determined to break it. Your serious gaze locked onto his figure, there was no getting away from this now. And so, he admitted meekly that he wanted a kiss, and who were you to deny him? With a playful grin, you placed a kiss to his lips, reveling in the way he pushed against you like he was desperate (he had been waiting for this for so long). Pulling away, you teased that he only needed to ask if he wanted another kiss.
“I-I…d-damn, fine…do ya think we could do that again?”
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Silver Vanrouge
A warm breeze tousled Silver’s white locks, his steel grey eyes hidden behind his shut eyelids. His head rested in your lap, face pressed into your thighs. Squirrels and song birds fluttered around you, a small chickadee nestled on the top of your head. It was peaceful, a nice change of pace from your usual chaotic days. As beautiful as the scenery was around you, with green grass fluttering in the wind and colorful flowers swaying about, your gaze couldn’t help but fall down to the occupant in your lap. How his lashes kissed his cheeks, how the sun made his hair shine, how soft his skin was under the pads of your fingers. Silver has become the most breathtaking sight in your eyes, and the bird that roosted in your hair seemed to agree as it let out a soft series of cheeps that smoothed into a blissful melody. You couldn’t help but think about how much better your life has become once he entered your life, how sweet and protective he was, how sassy he could be when his father made an offer to cook. You had come to love all his quirks, how he could drift off to sleep in even the loudest environment or how he’d try to stay up just for you. Unable to hold your affections in for much longer, you placed a kiss against his cheek, heart fluttering when Silver’s lips tugged into a smile. So what else would you do besides lavish his face in sweet kisses? His eyes fluttered open, and you couldn’t help the huge grin that fell on your lips as he looked up at you affectionately. You greeted him with a kiss to the corner of his lips, a cheesy good morning following. The way he stared at you made your heart flutter and stomach tie in knots, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Sleepily, Silver followed your lips without a second thought connecting them in a warm kiss before pulling away sharply, eyes wide as he apologized for not asking for consent, only to be shut up by your lips meeting once more.
“So it's not a dream…thank you.”
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Sebek Zigvolt
You felt your eye twitch, trying your hardest to keep your composure. It felt like one step forward ten steps backwards when it came to Sebek. You thought you’d finally got to him in some way, only for him to be shouting at you once more for the same thing the next day. Which was happening right now, with him yelling at you about being some lowly human. Just the other day you had a one on one about how those comments hurt you, and he seemed to genuinely understand, so why the hell was he shouting at you again. You had tried throwing insults back, you had tried communicating like a mature person, you had even slapped him once and stormed away in tears! What the hell did you need to do to get through to this hard headed crocodile? Your glare turned sharp as Sebek continued, rambling on about one thing or another. Your exasperation taking over, you grabbed his tie, pulling his face close to yours as you sneered. You were so upset, you didn’t even notice how your noses were touching, instead tearing into Sebek instead. You also didn’t realize how Sebek turned silent, golden green eyes locked onto your figure, cheeks slowly but surely turning bright red. You let out a huff as your rant ended, raising an eyebrow at the half fae’s current state, then suddenly it clicked and an evil grin upturned your lips. Curling your fingers around his tie, you inched your face even closer (somehow), lips hovering over the other. You debated if you should do the evil thing, pull away and leave him hanging, but you also had the urge to kiss him stupid…letting your own desires win, you pushed your lips together in a heated kiss. Sebek was stiff as a board, but slowly melted into the kiss, only for you to pull away, biting his lip in the process.
“Wh-where are you going, human! You cannot k-kiss a knight and walk away without an explanation! H-hey! W-wait up-”
#❥ • my works#twisted wonderland x reader#cater diamond x reader#deuce spade x reader#ace trappola x reader#jack howl x reader#floyd leech x reader#epel felmier x reader#silver x reader#sebek zigvolt x reader#silver vanrouge x reader#twisted wonderland#twst#twst wonderland#cater diamond#deuce spade#ace trappola#jack howl#floyd leech#epel felmier#silver#silver vanrouge#sebek zigvolt#x reader#twst x reader#twst wonderland x reader
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Can we pretty please have one of au powder where shes in love with us instead of ekko? 🥺 PLS
sí
notes: fluff, established relationship, wlw content, possibly ooc
‘ wrapped around your finger ’
powder x female reader
sometimes powder catches herself staring at you.
she would have been in the middle of meddling with one of her personal projects, eyes narrowed and nimble fingers straining to screw a pesky tiny nail, until the next thing she knows is she had suddenly turned to look at you sometime in the middle of working. she has no idea how long she had been staring for, watching you sitting beside her just a few feet away, but she jumps when your head lifts and your eyes land on hers.
looking a little panic-stricken, powder twists herself back around, readjusting her hair.
“how’s it comin’ along?” your voice sounds from beside her, making her release a breath and smile gently.
“just have some screws to tighten and light varnishing to apply. after that—should be pretty much complete.” powder finalizes looking down at her project with a proud smile, which makes yours widen. oh how adorable she could be without even trying.
you hum in acknowledgment and drag your stool to get closer to her. the only reason you had been sitting farther away from her in the first place was so she could have the room she needed to work on her things. but now she looks set to take a break, and you’ll steal any moment you can get your hands on to spend time with her.
after getting permission to touch it you pick up the object and turn it around in your hands, looking closely at all of the details and ridges. powder’s creations never fail to impress you, and it makes you admire her more after each and every one she shows you.
“as perfect as all of your other stuff turns out.” you sigh almost dreamily, placing it back down and looking at powder who’s already staring at you with a cautious expression. it softens a little and she shrugs carelessly.
“i wouldn’t use ‘perfect’ to describe my works. but i appreciate it anyhow.” powder says, avoiding your gaze and leaning her arm on the table. you’re brows immediately furrow.
“you should have more confidence in your work. you have a wonderful talent, powder.” you place your hand on her shoulder and lean closer, “show it off with pride.”
you finalize with a kiss to her freckled cheek.
powder’s cheeks heat up as she smiles down at you gratefully. she feels so incredibly lucky to have you in her life as a supportive figure, and you being her girlfriend at the same time just makes it 100 times better.
filled with an affection, powder takes your hand resting on your lap and laces your fingers together, silently raving at the way it sends happy jitters and butterflies in her stomach. her head rests atop yours when you lean it against her shoulder.
“and i mean it, lovely.” you add firmly, making powder chuckle softly.
“thank you. i appreciate it a lot. more than you probably know.”
you huff a laugh through your nose and lift your head to look up at her closely with a cheeky smile. with your free hand you poke her cheek playfully, “oh, you make it known~, don’t worry.” your joke manages to not go over powder’s head, causing her to blush and roll her eyes giggling.
“shut up! you joke about it now, but you’re not laughing once i actually get you wrapped around my finger.” the blue haired girl quips, leaning in close with a smirk and blue eyes filled with something mischievous. that makes your eyes widen—the overtly sexual innuendo was uncalled for coming from her.
your shoulders bump as you two tease each other back and fourth under your breaths, hushed giggles echoing around the large open space of powder’s private workshop; your bodies subconsciously having gotten closer with hands starting to get curious.
in a moment of silence, your eyes flutter down to powder’s lips. her own doing the same, both of you exchange a silent confirmation and slowly close the distance between you.
unknowingly to both of you, someone is approaching. the sound of footsteps halt and someone clears their throat some 15 feet away. yours and powder’s lips just barely graze when you both hear the intruder, causing you both to jump away with gasps. at the sight of the third person in the room you’re filled with immense annoyance, peeved at being disrupted.
“sorry to intrude, but, vander sent me to look for you. you’re 20 minutes late to your shift.” ekko’s eyes awkwardly shift around the room before focusing on powder, “you probably don’t wanna keep him waiting much longer…”
you frown. the girl is immediately shooting out of her seat and cursing at herself, knocking things over while scrambling to grab her stuff scattered around the area. you grimace and reach out to help her out.
“fuck, he’s gonna be so mad. i’ve never been late before!”
“we can give him and excuse.” ekko calmly suggests in hopes of calming powder down.
“tell ‘im you ate too much cheese and couldn’t leave the bathroom for an hour.” you smirk. ekko chuckles beside you against the railing, shaking his head.
powder only scoffs. “don’t make this a joke.” she grumbles. she stands up straight and tosses her bag over her shoulder, “we need to go now. please.”
she’s already halfway out the door.
the two of you walk down the busy street with your arm hooked around hers, the warm sunny weather making it feel as though someone lit a candle in your chest and made a lovely home there. ekko walks alongside you, rambling passionately about his concepts for an upcoming project of his own while you smile in acknowledgment and give your own comments.
you still deeply wish you could have more time of the day to spend with powder, alas she has a job. but so many hangout ideas are swirling in your brain and making you skip in excitement at the thoughts.
next think you're going to do is sunbathe and go for a swim in the river; a perfect way to celebrate the oncoming summer season.
#powder x reader#arcane powder x reader#powder x female reader#powder x fem!reader#jinx x reader#jinx x female reader#jinx x fem!reader#lesbian#wlw
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YOU AND I TOGETHER, WON’T YOU HOLD ON TO ME — YUUTA OKKOTSU
cw mentions of children, pregnancy. so much of yuuta being happy and sappy :(( sorry i haven’t shutup about my little depressed lovesick boy making it out and living a full life. probably won’t anytime soon actually. satoru is alive and well in all my renditions of happily ever after and that won’t change either i fear
Yuuta talks about the future often. A future with you, and him, and your friends, and a family where you’re all together forever and he gets to love you until the end of time.
Sometimes, you think he doesn’t realize what he’s doing—dreaming about forever with you; but you can never find it in your heart to break his illusion. The boy who used to dread his next waking moment is dreaming and dreaming and dreaming, and making all of yours come true.
It’s quiet in this part of the Gojo compound. The gentle sounds of a stream running through the garden, and chirping of birds are the only noises that disrupt your daydreams.
Or, perhaps, fuel them.
“I hope our kids aren’t afraid of birds,” Yuuta muses, wide eyes looking past your face up to the tall trees, full of happily singing bluebirds, “There’s so many of them here.”
You’re gentle when you stroke his hair, taking advantage of his head in your lap to pull the longer pieces out of his eyes.
Your smile is giddy, unfiltered. “Kids? Plural?”
Yuuta hums with smile. His eyes remain on the sky, chasing a pair of birds that flitter between long branches.
“Yeah. At least two, so they don’t get lonely,” he says, “They’ll have us, and their cousins, and sensei, and our friends, but they’re going to need each other at home.”
Yuuta lets his eyes fall to you at the end of his sentence, a sparkling smile on his scarred lips.
“I see,” you smile, “At least two so they can be friends.”
“Best friends,” he revises your statement, “So they can train together, too, if they want to be sorcerers. Or not. It’s fine, either way.” He blinks, eyes warm, “I hear that four is the happy medium for a family, but I think three is going to be easier inheritance wise, if sensei is serious about making me clan head someday.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah, but if a fourth comes along, I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”
“I’m sure sensei will have made more than enough money for them by then.”
Yuuta giggles, earnestly in your arms at that. “Of course he will.”
You pause for a moment, committing his laugh to memory. His features flush slightly under your gaze, and you lean down to kiss his scarred forehead. You let your hands resume petting his hair, following in his gaze to look up at the birds.
“Tell me more about them.”
Yuuta doesn’t waste a moment, closing his eyes; letting you paint the picture in the sky for yourself as he talks.
“The gap between the oldest and youngest is six or seven years. I think five might be enough, though. So, that means our middle one is about three when our littlest comes along.”
“Unless a fourth happens.”
Yuuta hums in agreement. “Unless a fourth happens. But we’ll have time.”
You’ll have time, you nod. You have time now, you and him; all the time in the world.
“A three year old and newborn sounds like a lot of work.”
“Maybe. But we’ll also have a seven year old. He’s going to want to help with the baby, so we’ll have an extra hand,” Yuuta says, “And that’s not even counting sensei and the rest.”
“He?”
“I think he’ll be a boy, the oldest. He might look like me, but he’ll act like you, so he’s going to be Kugisaki’s favorite.”
You find yourself choking out a genuine cackle at that. When you look down, Yuuta’s got a smile wider than yours.
“He sounds wonderful. Like his father,” you confess, “But the idea of pregnancy thrice in a seven year span sounds exhausting.”
“We can use surrogates. Or adopt. Or whatever,” Yuuta tells you, “Gojo-sensei will help us figure it out if we need help.”
You have no doubt about that. And now, when you look back up to the sky, you can see vignettes of Gojo-sensei with your your seven year old on his shoulders, your middle child on his hip, and the baby gnawing at his legs.
And then Yuuji is skipping into the scene, cooing at the youngest, picking him up and consoling him effortlessly. He carries the baby over to a crib with another crying newborn that looks eerily like Megumi, whose green eyes go wide at the stranger, then smile gummy as both babies reach for each other.
Maki is there too, tapping your eldest on the shoulder with her staff and pretending not to have done it. Nobara holds up a shirt to the middle child, brassy in questioning Gojo why she told her that the baby would fit in this size that’s obviously too big, meanwhile the toddler ignores them both, fascinated with the marks on Toge’s cheeks as he plays peek-a-boo.
It’s not hard to imagine. The scenes in your head aren’t wild fantasies or unattainable dreams—not anymore.
“You want a big family.”
Yuuta nods, reaching for your hand and pulling it away from his hair, and to his lips. “We have the resources for it now. Not just financially—we have time, and lots of friends, and lots of love.”
Yuuta presses a kiss to the back of your hand, and you smile. He’s right, there’s more than enough love to go around.
#sorry about this. it will probably happen again#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk smut#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen fluff#yuuta okkotsu x reader#yuuta x reader#yuta okkotsu x reader
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I have someone who comes to groom my dog because I physically can't keep up with it. He's extremely good at his job.
He also thinks Trump isn't all that bad a guy, the Democrats are the anti-human rights party, had no idea the Supreme Court was a thing/is controlled by Republicans and that's why so many human rights are being rolled back in America, refuses to actually use his privilege of having a preferential voting system to not have to vote for the two major shitty parties because he insists on believing nothing good has been done despite numerous proving points to the contrary in his own life let alone others' lives, thinks climate change is a hoax and can't wrap his head around why university studies need to be checked for a donor list and a fossil fuel company supported 'study' isn't reliable actually, hasn't even learned the most basic empathy concept of "you not suffering from a problem other people suffer from doesn't make that problem less important/you should care about people whose lives you don't experience", outright said with his full chest that maybe we should racially segregate the Olympics again actually, and a number of other toxic to downright rancid things I would have just written him off and slammed the door in his face for last year let alone a few years ago.
Don't get me wrong. Talking to him is fucking EXHAUSTING and I feel physically disgusting afterward having to just calmly listen to all these things he spouts which have historically resulted in entire groups of people being targeted for genocide and numerous other human rights abuses when left unchecked and allowed to fester at the societal level.
BUT HE LISTENS WHEN I CHALLENGE HIM.
I can see him actually seeing me as a human being worth listening to. He's older than me and definitely been down way too many right-wing rabbit holes for me to pull him onto the surface any time soon. But I'm giving him things to chew on and hopefully if we're lucky I've planted some seeds which will eventually grow into some semi decent human being plants one day. He's really ignorant and clearly under-educated and that itself isn't his fault and biting his head off isn't remotely going to make up for that gap and is only going to drive him further into the arms of whatever fucked up extremist conservative groups he's been listening to.
He is reachable. He's just also a very long project I only get to work on for an hour at a time every 6 weeks.
And some of the things I've said which I think were part of what got through to him involved showing empathy for him being a single father(? I may have mixed that up with someone else but I think he is) with a disabled kid. He shows empathy for disabled people because he's the father of one (and probably is neurodivergent himself I believe but unsupported and doing his best to give his son the support he didn't get from the sounds of it).
But yeah.
Listen: you don't have to take shit to the face if the person is solely malicious and trying to hurt you. No one is obligated to meet that with kindness and anyone saying otherwise can get fucked. There is a limit to how much bullshit someone can cop while the bullshitter acts like any emotional response to their bullshit is unreasonable/out of nowhere and that is valid on the part of the person copping the crap.
However, if you a) can handle coping long enough to break down those walls with unexpected kindness/it isn't dangerous for you to try that method (VERY IMPORTANT. PAY ATTENTION TO THOSE DETAILS. DON'T TRY THAT ON SOMEONE WHO IS ACTIVELY THREATENING/DANGEROUS TO YOU), or b) can tell it's soft bigotry/general ignorance driving the otherwise yuck things being said, do give the compassion and patient education route a try.
I've had numerous instances of me holding shitty ignorant beliefs I had no idea were actually harmful. The people biting my head off didn't get to me. The people who took the time to see I was just ignorant and under-educated on the matter (and hadn't yet developed the empathy for a group I didn't belong to) taking me aside and patiently dealing with my idiocy long enough to explain things to me in a way that got through my skull (and eventually into my heart as well) were the ones who fundamentally improved me as a person. I still have plenty of things I always have to work on. But I can tell you now I would be much MUCH worse without those patient, kind, educational interventions by people who could tell the difference between malice and ignorance.
The same applies to everyone else.
Human beings are human beings. All of us. Re-humanising each other is the last thing any of the politicians and extremist groups want us to do BECAUSE IT WORKS. IT BREAKS THE WARPED MODEL OF THE WORLD THEY PORTRAY AS REALITY TO DIVIDE US AND KEEP US ALL AT EACH OTHER'S THROATS INSTEAD OF CUTTING OFF THE FOOD SOURCE FOR THEIR WEEDS AT THE ROOT.
When we remind a hurting person that we are a person too, not the bogeyman the extremist groups paint us as, it shakes their warped worldview to the core. It makes them think. It makes them QUESTION. It makes them look at the flower the 'evil' Pride-pin wearer gave them because no one gave them flowers when their mother died and their hate begins to crack at the seams.
The things the world teaches men hurts men too. Teaching them they DON'T have to subscribe to that mentality all the way down to the roots of the patriarchy weed is the best and most effective way of cutting that mentality off at the source. Even if you struggle to empathise with men because you've been hurt; ok, valid. But it is demonstrably more effective, sustainable and long term changing to just get rid of all of it by addressing their pain and showing them how much healthier and happier they can be just in their own life let alone others' lives by casting off the system that hurts them too.
I'm pretty sure I'm just rehashing the same points here, sorry, but the concept of deradicalisation as a healing and long term change tool has been my social justice special interest this year so talking it out helps it solidify in my own head too. (And gives me strength to deal with bullshit because it reminds me it's worth copping what I can personally handle in order to get someone to think, change and grow, one exhausting person at a time).
part of the reason i love how bell hooks talks about masculinity is that she shows real compassion towards men suffering from the effects of toxic masculinity. she was conscious of how we need to unlearn the ways we talk about men + masculinity just as much as we need to unlearn the same for women + femininity. so many times ill see someone talking about toxic masculinity like (hyperbolizing here but only slightly) “these FUCKING STUPID BABY BITCHES won’t MAN UP and go to a therapist!!!” and like. i get the anger. but you see feminists recreating patriarchal manhood by only promoting good behaviors through patriarchal frameworks. any use of the term “real men” is bad because it reifies the idea that manhood is a special title you must earn, and it is something possible to fail and fake. & as important as it is to promote sexual equality + the pleasure of non-cis-men, lots of people are essentially still working with the idea that men need sexual prowess to have worth but just shifting it slightly so there is more emphasis on women’s pleasure. but I want cis men to think about their partners’ pleasure because they care about their partners, not because they need to check a box in order to keep their man card. and don’t get me started on small dick jokes– and the absolutely pitiful excuse people will use that “well, I don’t believe it, but misogynistic men get upset when I say it, so it’s okay!”
basically bell hooks is so fucking right. in order to create loving men we need to love men, simply for being alive, whether or not they are performing. as much as we need to actively unlearn misogyny (and we do), it’s equally vital we unlearn patriarchal ways of seeing manhood. we can’t just assume that taking a feminist perspective automatically means there is no work to be done there.
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Our Merry Eternity
And she swears that every Christmas season, it feels like they fall deeper and deeper in love with each other.
(In which a writer would like to argue that a day after Christmas, is a perfectly reasonable time to release a Christmas fic)
Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd
Themes: Fluff, fluff, fluff with some hurt/comfort and angst if you squint
Words: 9.4K (if I could write things shorter maybe y'all would get things faster but alas)
TW: Implied sexual content/suggestive content, mentions of divorce, mentions of injuries, swearing
A/N: MERRY (one day after) CHRISTMAS MY LOVIES <3 It seems like everyone wanted domestic fluff and who am I to deny the people what they want (even if it is a little later than I intended it to be) and I didn't realize how much I missed eternity-verse till I wrote this. I'mma keep this short and sweet and go through the basics. Such as the fact that I did not edit. I eventually will but for now, feel free to let me know about any grammar/spelling/formatting issues. And even though I haven't had the time to go through my inbox in a hot second, I promise I will soon so as always, let me know what you liked, what you didn't and what you'd like to see in the future. Have a lovely rest of your holidays my angels <3
It’s beginning (to look a lot like Christmas)
Paige isn’t the biggest fan of Christmas; she doesn’t dislike it by any means but she’s never understood the fascination everyone else seems to have with it. Perhaps it’s because when she was younger, Christmas had been her parents’ favorite holiday to try and one-up each other. They’d competed in everything, from how big the tree was to how evenly spread the icing on the cookies were. Eventually the excitement of getting a big expensive present from one parent that would only be rivaled by an even bigger, more expensive present from the other wore off and all that was left was this hollow feeling of being torn in two. Her parents have matured now -no longer in a constant battle for her approval now that they had other kids to focus on as well- but the magic of Christmas had long worn off and Paige hadn’t bothered trying to rediscover it.
Until now.
Because right now, watching -through a facetime call that’s been running for almost four hours now- Azzi run around Walmart, searching for decorations and presents with her exasperated family in tow, almost feels a little magical. The way the younger girl’s eyes twinkle when she finds the perfect gift, the way her dimples deepen when she triumphantly wins an argument against her mother for an ornament her tree needs, makes Paige think that it would be so easy to fall in love with Christmas, if she got to spend it with Azzi.
And it’s like Azzi’s reading her mind because suddenly the younger girl’s face is filling all of Paige’s screen as she holds the phone close to her face, lips pouting in a way that has the blonde feelings decidedly unfriendly feelings toward a girl she’s barely known for six months, but feels like a best friend she’s known all her life.
“I wish we could spend Christmas together,” Azzi says with a slight whine, “and then you could help me with all of this. They’re absolutely no help-” her last sentence is cut off by her family and Paige laughs as the Fudds break out into a series of indignant protests.
“Oh so you just want me for manual labor or something huh?” Paige teases, leaning back against her bed and folding her arms across her chest, “and here I thought it’s cause you missed me.”
“I do miss you,” Azzi says matter-of-factly.
“Nah,” Paige shakes her head, “sounds like you just need another person to slave around for you.”
Azzi's mouth falls open at the accusation as the Fudds break into laughter behind her, the sound of it making something impossibly warm bloom in Paige’s chest.
“I do not make people slave around for me.”
“Yeah you do. You’re the princess. You order us around and we do as we’re told.”
“Here, here-ow!” Jon’s noise of agreement is cut off by his sister elbowing him in the stomach, “do all that work and get rewarded by violence too.”
“I tell you I miss you and this is how you repay me?” Azzi asks, her voice tinged with drama.
“Nah I still don’t believe you miss me,” it’s a lie; Paige is fully aware Azzi misses her -thinks that the younger girl has to feel at least a semblance of the emptiness she feels herself at the distance between them- but she likes making Azzi repeat it; likes the constant confirmation that Azzi misses her too.
“Of course I miss you P, after all,” Azzi’s eyes glint with mischief, “we’re engaged aren’t we? A girl’s gotta miss her fiancé.”
The cavalier use of the tone of endearment makes Paige freeze. It’s a joke; a callback to the fact that Paige had practically threatened Azzi that she’d have to marry her if the younger girl won their little pop-a-shot competition last summer at the Minnesota State fair. Paige hadn’t been thinking, it had just slipped out but then Azzi had won the game and then there were rings being exchanged and somehow the whole thing had become one big running joke between the two of them. Except, the idea of forever with Azzi doesn’t feel much like a joke to Paige. It feels like a wish, a hope, a want, a need something she’s not quite ready to admit to herself yet.
“I miss you too Az,” Paige says softly as they grin at each other through the phone, “can’t wait to see my best friend soon.”
Thirteen days to be exact -they’d planned to spend the last half of winter break together- but it’s not like Paige is crossing the days off of her calendar or anything.
“Fiancé,” Azzi corrects and Paige’s heart flutters despite her brain trying to remind her that this is just a bit they’re playing at.
“Right, so fiancé,” the word tastes like sugar cookies and marshmallows on the tip of her tongue, “you get my present yet?”
“You know I have and before you ask,” Azzi gives her a knowing look when Paige excitedly opens her mouth, “no I won’t give you a hint about what it is.”
“But Azziiiiiii-”
“Absolutely not Paige,” Azzi says firmly, “presents are meant to be surprises.”
“Aren’t fiancés meant to tell each other everything?” Paige scrunches her nose.
“Not this. Christmas presents are a sacred secret,” the younger girl replies gravely.
“And who made you an expert on all things Christmas presents?”
“Santa did,” Azzi retorts haughtily.
Paige snorts, “well Santa doesn’t ex-”
“PAIGE MADISON BUECKERS,” Azzi yells and the blonde can tell by the way she winces immediately that the younger girl’s little outburst had gotten her more than a couple of wary looks, “Paige Madison Bueckers,” she hisses again, her voice much quieter this time, “you take that back right now!”
“Az-”
“Take it back!”
“Bro you’re fifteen years old,” Paige argues.
“Believing has no age,” Azzi hums airily, “now take it back.”
“Nope!”
“Take it back or I’ll end our engagement,” Azzi threatens and Paige blanches at ultimatum.
“You wouldn’t,” she gasps.
“Try me.”
Paige is sixteen and she’s only really just started to learn what love is, but she thinks, as she sits on her bed bickering on facetime over the most ridiculous of topics with a girl who makes her feel things she’s never felt before, that maybe love is just something as simple and crazy as pretending admitting Santa is real so she can prevent her fake engagement, that’s almost beginning to feel a little much like a real promise, from being called off.
2. With you (under the mistletoe)
The truth is that neither of them quite remember what started the fight or even really why it had continued after. All they know is that one minute everything had been fine and then the next minute, they were fuming at each other and their plane ride back to the DMV for Christmas had passed in uncharacteristic silence. They'd parted ways at the airport -glumly sauntering over to their waiting families while decidedly avoiding looking over in each other’s directions- with a dreadful mixture of regret, guilt and the feeling of missing each other. But despite the fact that they were both clearly miserable, Paige and Azzi were both too stubborn and too eager to prove which one of them could be more stubborn. This was their first true fight after they’d gotten together earlier this year, and they were both adamant that the other one would apologize first.
But Azzi can feel the urge to cave in grow stronger and stronger by the minute as she feels Paige’s body against her own as the blonde reaches over the younger girl to grab something from the shelf. The contact is unnecessary and she knows Paige is doing it on purpose, trying to get a reaction and it takes every inch of self-control Azzi has to not shiver as the older girl presses herself against her back, acting like whatever she’s grabbing isn’t right at the front of the shelf. Azzi tries to focus on the cookies she’s icing, tries to keep her hands still as she traces the outline of a star in royal icing, tries to do anything but focus on the way Paige’s warm breath is tickling against the back of her neck.
It’s two days till Christmas and the Fudd family and friends have gathered to do their annual cookie baking and decorating tradition. And Katie had been clear that no matter what issues Paige and Azzi were having, they wouldn’t interfere with the open invitation that Paige had always had -since she’d moved to the DMV but even before that really- to join them throughout the Christmas festivities. Azzi had pretended to be a little miffed by it but secretly she’d been hoping that her girlfriend -god she still got such a thrill out of being able to call her that- would show up. They’d only really been apart for a day, but since they’d met, Paige and Azzi hadn’t gone often without talking to each other -whether it was in person or through text or on the phone- and so 24 hours had felt a little bit like 24 years and Azzi had spent every second missing the girl who’d long since become a part of her soul. And even though Paige had grunted about only being here for Drew’s sake, Azzi knows -by the way the blonde’s eyes had drunk in the sight of her when she’d let her into the house, by the way her stiff shoulders had relaxed just by being near her again- that Paige had missed her just as much.
But neither of them are quite ready to admit it yet, and so, as they bustle around the confined space of the Fudd’s kitchen, Paige continues to find ways to light Azzi’s skin on fire and Azzi continues to pretend it isn’t making her burn with want.
“Noooooooo,” a drawled out whine from the kitchen table has Azzi and Paige jumping away from each other as they both turn to look at Drew.
Azzi’s eyes widen and Paige bursts into laughter as they take in the scene in front of them. Clearly the little boy had overestimated his strength and the piping bag had burst and now Drew stands by the table, his lips slightly parted in shock, as the red icing -originally intended for the Santa hat cookies- drips down the front of his shirt. Jon and José are doubled down in their chairs, tears practically streaming down their faces as the sound of their laughter echoes through the walls.
“Oh my god,” Paige manages to get out between her giggles, “what did you do Drewskie.”
“Nothing,” her little brother immediately defends himself, “it literally burst out of nowhere.”
“Sure it did little Hulk, sure it did,” José teases as he swipes his finger over Drew’s ruined shirt and then licks the icing off of it, the casualness of it causing Jon and Paige to burst into another round of laughter while Azzi tries as hard as she can to keep her own giggles contained but a smile slips through the cracks.
“It’s not funny,” Drew stomps his feet petulantly, “I’m all sticky and icky and gross. Azzi,” he looks at the brunette with imploring eyes, “tell them to stop- OH MY GOD ARE YOU LAUGHING AT ME TOO.”
Azzi's eyes widen as she tries to protest, “no of course not. C’mon let’s get you a new-”
But before she can put her plan into action, clearly Drew has a different idea and before Azzi can stop it from happening, the little boy is grabbing another piping bag -this one with green icing- and aiming it straight at Jose. There’s a split second of silence as the green icing arcs through the air, almost in slow motion, before landing with a splat on Jose’s newly bought t-shirt. And then the room bursts into chaos as Drew immediately dives behind Azzi’s legs, Paige and Jon continue to lose their minds laughing and José lets out a loud scream.
“WHAT THE FU-”
“José language,” both Paige and Azzi reprimand immediately and José glares at them but corrects himself anyways.
“What the fudge dude,” José scowls at Drew, “this is a brand new shirt.”
For his part, the little boy shrugs, “I thought you liked eating icing off of shirts. I figured I’d make it easier and let you eat it off of your own shirt.
If it’s possible this somehow makes Jon and Paige laugh harder and instead of focusing his wrath on Drew who’s still nestled behind Azzi’s legs, José turns on the two of them instead.
“You guys think this is SO funny don’t you,” he says menacingly, grabbing for two more piping bags.
“José no,” Paige is the first one to recover as she tries to turn away from the mess but it’s too late, and just as she’s trying to bolt out the door, she’s stopped by a glob of pink icing landing with a splat on the back of her plain white shirt.
“Oh you’re so dead,” Paige whispers angrily as she turns around, grabbing another bag of icing and aiming it directly at José’s face.
And then there’s no stopping anyone as Azzi watches as all the beautiful icing she’d painstakingly made and dyed into different colors begins to be thrown all over the kitchen, a rainbow painting itself all over the walls and floors. Drew darts out from behind her legs, joining into the mayhem as he starts to pelt Jon with all sorts of colors.
Seeing them all distracted and knowing it’s only a matter of time before she gets sucked into all of it, Azzi slowly tiptoes backwards, wanting nothing to do with the mess, and she’s just about to turn around and run up the stairs when a low voice echoes behind her.
“And where do you think you’re going,” because of course Paige had noticed her trying to escape; Paige always noticed when it came to Azzi.
“Paige,” Azzi warns slowly, trying to move away from the other girl, her eyes fixated on the purple icing in the blonde’s hands, “please.”
Paige smirks as she takes another step towards Azzi, “this is a little unfair isn’t it?”
“Hey I didn’t start any of this,” Azzi puts her hands up in surrender, choosing to back away from the stairs and towards the living room instead, “go fight the people who did.”
Paige shakes her head as she takes another step, “I already got ‘em all. Amateurs,” she says cockily, “they think they can beat me in a food fight.”
Azzi rolls her eyes, “is there anything you’re not arrogant about?”
“Can’t help that I’m good at everything,” Paige shrugs and Azzi’s about to come up with a snarky retort when the blonde’s eyes soften, “except I guess- I guess I’m not too great at apologizing.”
Gone is the air of overconfidence that had surrounded the older girl just a second before and in her place is that soft, vulnerable Paige that Azzi is so desperately in love with and she can’t help but take a step towards the blonde.
“We should both probably apologize huh,” she says quietly, “think we both said some petty shit we didn’t mean.”
It’s true; they’d known each other so long and so deeply that they knew exactly how to push each other’s buttons, how to say the exact wrong thing to rile each other up when they were frustrated. The fight had been inevitable; an explosion of all the angst that existed between two athletes who were both fighting injuries and watching their team struggle without them. It had started with something little that Azzi can’t quite remember but then they were yelling about other things -Paige’s grievances about how Azzi had an irritating habit of hovering and Azzi’s issues with Paige’s tendency to close herself off- and it had ended with both of them near tears as they’d frustratedly stomped into their rooms.
“I’m sorry,” Paige says it first, as she loops her arm around Azzi’s waist, bringing the younger girl as close to her as she can, “I love you. I miss you.”
Azzi smiles, her hands finding their rightful place around Paige’s neck, not caring that the other girl is still covered in sticky icing, “don’t gotta miss me baby. I’m right here,” she says softly, resting her forehead against the blonde’s, “I’m sorry too. I love you so much.”
“Look up,” Paige says softly, as she strokes Azzi’s cheek and the younger girl does as she’s told, laughing when she notices the mistletoe hanging above them.
“Kissing under the mistletoe? You’re so cliché Bueckers.”
“Clichés are clichés for a reason Az,” Paige hums faintly before she’s pulling Azzi into a searing kiss, holding her as tightly as she physically can.
And yet Azzi still finds a way to tug her closer, trying to find a way to meld their bodies into one as she presses herself as close to Paige as possible. She’s just about to suggest they take this upstairs -because god has she missed being with Paige- when instead she feels the older girl pull away and before she can even react, she’s being hit in the face with a stream of bright purple icing.
“PAIGE WHAT THE FUCK,”
“Sorry baby. Just couldn’t help myself,” Paige grins as she steps back into Azzi’s space, gently attaching her lips to Azzi’s cheeks as her tongue languidly licks away at the icing and this time the younger girl doesn’t even try to hide the way her body reacts to it, “I promise I’ll clean you up though.”
3. I’ll be home (for Christmas)
“I’m good I swear,” Azzi’s voice is raw and hoarse like it often gets when she’s been crying and despite the younger girl’s best efforts to put on a brave front, Paige can hear right through it.
She cocks an eyebrow, shifting from her back onto her elbows and placing her phone -with the facetime call- against the headboard, “then why won’t you let me see your face?”
“It’s not me. Something’s up with my camera. I don’t know what,” and if it was anyone else, even someone else who also knew that Azzi had literally just gotten a new phone, maybe the attempted sincerity in the brunette’s voice would be enough to convince them that she was telling the truth.
But Paige has every line of the Azzi Fudd façade memorized, knows exactly how to discern the little cadences in her girlfriend’s voice and read between the lines. She knows Azzi’s purposely refusing to show her face; knows that it’s probably because it would take Paige one glance at said beautiful, gorgeous, stunning face to know that there had been tears running down it just a little bit ago.
The blonde sighs, choosing to let the lie go and instead focus on the precious few minutes she’s got to speak to her girlfriend in peace. This is the first time Paige and Azzi have truly been apart for an extended amount of time since the latter had gotten to UConn and somehow the past few weeks have felt worse than when they’d spent months and months apart. With Paige trying to lead an injury-riddled team and Azzi rehabbing another torn ACL, the opportunities to indulge in a proper facetimes call had been few and far between. And when they did finally find the team, it wasn’t just that they were physically tired; they were both emotionally drained too. It was hard recharging when their batteries -each other- were so far away and every call felt hollow; like something was missing.
“I miss you,” Paige says finally, feet digging into her bed as she musters up a soft smile, wishing that she could see Azzi return it with one of her own instead of staring at a black screen with only her own face in the corner.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” the younger girl says lightly and something uncomfortable churns in Paige’s stomach.
“You uh- you haven’t said it back in a while,” she says slowly, trying to keep her voice casual.
“Said what?”
Paige gulps, “that you miss me,” she gives Azzi a second to respond before her nerves have her speaking a mile per minute, “I mean not that you- not that you have to say it back or anything it’s just- you usually do- or like you always did and you just- you just haven’t said it back. And I mean I don’t say I miss you just so you’ll say it back or anything. I mean I do- you know- miss you and so that why I say it- because- because I miss you- I miss you so fucking much baby and I just- I just want you to know that but you haven’t- you haven’t said it back in a little bit and I just- Azzi,” her voice cracks as she tries not to let the tears slip through, “you do miss me don’t you?”
The other girl is quiet for so long that Paige thinks maybe she’s said too much; her mind rushes to the worst possibilities because what if Azzi really doesn’t miss her? What if her insecurities are right and the time apart has made Azzi realize that she wants something other than Paige?
“Of course I miss you Paige,” Azzi’s voice is thick with tears and all of Paige’s previous fears are replaced with worry instead, “god baby I miss you so fucking much. I miss you all the time and I’m sorry, fuck Paige, I’m sorry if I ever made you think I didn’t but baby- I-,” she’s heaving through her tears and Paige wishes she was with her; wishes she could wipe away her tears and hold her forever.
“Azzi-”
“I haven’t been saying it back because- because-” Azzi pushes on, still struggling to speak but determined to say her piece, “I can’t okay? I can’t keep saying it Paige- I can’t keep telling you I miss you and hearing that you miss me when we can’t do anything about it. And I get it- okay- I get it. I get that you have to be with the team and I have to be here and do my rehab and we can’t- we can’t be together right but fuck- I hate it. I hate it so much.”
“Azzi,” Paige says again helplessly.
She hates it too; hates that it’s so close to Christmas, so close to Azzi’s favorite holiday and her girlfriend is sobbing.
“Shit. I’m being a terrible girlfriend aren’t I? You have a game in a couple of hours and here I am being a fucking selfish wet wipe instead of wishing you luck. Fucking hell,” Azzi curses and Paige can picture her frantically pulling herself together as she tries to change her tone.
“You could never be a terrible girlfriend,” Paige reassures softly.
Azzi ignores her, “besides, we’ll see each other soon right? You’re gonna fly home from Toronto to Connecticut tomorrow and then come home to me after right? Just a couple more days,” and it sounds like she’s saying it more to herself than Paige, “just a few more days- few more hours really. We can do this.”
“Yeah,” Paige agrees but she can’t help but feel like even that’s too long and there’s a plan starting to form in her mind; a good use of all that NIL money she’s been earning.
“I love you P,” Azzi says softly, and despite the heaviness from before, Paige can hear the smile in her voice, “see you soon baby.”
“I love you too Az. I’ll be home soon,” Paige replies, a large grin settling onto her face as she gets ready to bring her idea to fruition; knowing that for now, their soons don’t quite mean the same thing.
***
Azzi thinks her parents and brother must have the patience of a saint. She’s acutely aware that she’s been a miserable grinch to be around; either ignoring them or answering them with tight one-word sentences. Since she’d come down to Virginia for her rehab, she’s kept herself holed down in her room, only coming out when absolutely necessary. The worst part of it, is that it’s her favorite time of the year and Azzi’s barely participated in all the little Christmas traditions -half of which had really been created by her- that she’d normally be excited to indulge in.
She sighs, burrowing herself further into her pillows to block out the chatter of her family upstairs. In a couple of minutes, she’s sure one of them will come rushing downstairs, pleading for her to come join them as they make Christmas themed pancakes. And she’ll refuse -just as she has with every other fun little activity- and all though whoever’s been tasked with getting her out of her cave will persist a little longer, eventually they’ll give up, that awful look, tinged in both disappointment and pity, on their face as they go back upstairs with a promise to bring her a plate in a little bit. It’s a terrible routine that’s been on rinse and repeat and Azzi thinks she’d really like to break herself out of it, but it feels like she’s drowning in it instead, and there’s not a lifeboat in sight to pull her out of her misery.
Turning on her side, Azzi reaches for her phone, flipping to Paige’s contact and her heart aches from their last conversation last night. God she’d been so selfish, venting like that knowing her girlfriend had a game in a couple of hours; knowing how stressful each game -no matter how easy the opponent- was with an injury-riddled team. But Paige had sounded so miserable when asking if Azzi still missed her that in a way it had been infectious and suddenly Azzi found herself letting her own hurt waterfall out of her lips.
She scrunches her nose, eyebrows crinkling in confusion when she realizes that the last text she’d sent Paige before going to sleep -a simple you did really good today baby, i’m proud of you right after the game- had gone unanswered. Azzi frowns, looking down at her phone as if her staring harder at it might just conjure up a message from her girlfriend. She’d fallen asleep almost right after sending it and it was unlike Paige to not have answered her by the time she woke up. Azzi rattles her brain, trying to remember if the blonde had mentioned any other plans -beyond a dinner with Aaliyah’s parents that wouldn’t have kept her from her phone- but she can’t remember anything. Briefly glancing at the time and knowing that Paige’s flight to Connectcut wasn’t supposed to leave for at least another three hours, Azzi hastily texts her girlfriend again, crossing her fingers behind her back in anticipation of a quick reply.
Good morning Paigey <3
She gives it exactly three minutes, stomach churning when she doesn’t get a reply.
I miss you baby.
Another four minutes and still no reply and Azzi starts to feel her head getting heavy with that familiar weight of over thinking. What if she’d overstepped last night? What if it was too much? What if Paige had decided that she couldn’t deal with Azzi and her crap anymore?
She can hear someone starting to hurry down the steps, the quickness making her think it’s probably one of her brother’s who’s been tasked with getting her out of her room this time. But Azzi keeps her focus on her phone, ready to reject whatever offer is about to be made. The door creaks open and she doesn’t look up, typing another message instead.
I love you Paige.
“I love you too Azzi.”
Azzi freezes at the sound of the oh so familiar voice, her gaze moving from her phone to the doorway in slow-motion. She blinks in disbelief, mouth falling open as she stares at the figure in her doorway, taking in the sight of a disheveled blonde ponytail, the custom UConn sweats draped on a body that’s radiating exhaustion but more than anything her eyes fixates on that smile, the one that’s always been just for her.
“Paige,” she breathes out slowly, almost as if she’s scared that saying it will make the girl in front of her disappear like a dream.
“Hi baby,” Paige says softly, casually pointing to her phone, “I got your message.”
“You’re here,” Azzi chokes out and then, louder, “you’re here oh my god, you’re really here,” she repeats, rushing to get out of bed, desperate to wrap her arms around Paige, to hold her and be held in return.
“Hey, hey, hey wait baby careful,” Paige chides, her focus immediately on Azzi’s knee, “stay where you are-”
“What? Why?” Azzi pouts and that elicits a little laugh from Paige as she walks over to the brunette.
“Because,” the older girl says quietly, as she crawls onto the bed and pulls Azzi onto her lap so the younger girl is straddling Paige’s hips, “I’m here.”
Azzi looks at her in awe, hand tracing the curves of Paige’s face like she still can’t quite believe this is real, “yeah,” she whispers, “you’re here.”
And then she’s kissing every inch of Paige’s skin that she can, memorizing the way it feels soft and smooth under her lips, trying to make up for all the lost time of the past few weeks and perhaps even for when she knows they’ll inevitably have to be separated again. Paige’s grip on her waist is tight, fingers gripping her like they’re scared to let go as she shivers under Azzi’s featherlight touch.
“I’m here,” Paige repeats again before she guides Azzi’s lips onto her own into a feverish kiss that has both of them letting out a long-kept sigh of relief.
It starts off innocent enough, the two of them savoring the moment, savoring the feeling of finally being in each other’s arms. But then Paige’s tongue is licking into Azzi’s mouth and the younger girl is grinding her hips in the way she knows will drive the blonde a little insane as Paige’s own hands find themselves roaming underneath Azzi’s pajama shirt, rubbing circles dangerously close to the edge of her sleep shorts.
“Missed you- missed you so fucking much,” Azzi babbles as Paige’s mouth moves away from her lips to trail a series of kisses down her jaw, to her neck before nipping at her collarbone.
“Me too- me fucking too,” Paige mutters between kisses as she soothes her tongue over the mark she’d just tattooed into Azzi’s skin with her teeth, eyes glazing over when it elicits a barely-concealed moan from the brunette’s lips.
“Missed this,” Azzi groans, continuing to roll her body against Paige’s, and she thinks she could fall off the edge just like this, untouched and fully clothed.
“I know, baby. I know,” Paige pants as she continues her assault on the young girl’s skin, “gonna take care of you. I swear. Gonna make up for everything tonight-”
“No now,” Azzi whines, hands tangling in Paige’s hair and pulling in a way that has the older girl groaning into the crook of her neck, “I need you now. I’ll be quiet, I swear. Paige please.”
“Fuck baby don’t say that. You know I can’t say no to you.”
“Then don’t say no to me,” Azzi responds with a smirk, one hand trailing down to gently flick against Paige’s nipples causing the blonde to let out a conflicted noise somewhere between pure arousal and reluctant protest.
“I can’t,” she says finally, resting her head against Azzi’s shoulder as she purposefully grips the younger girl’s waist to keep her still.
Azzi pouts, “why not?”
When Paige finally looks up at her, there’s a sheepish look on her face, “I made a bet with your brothers.”
“What?”
“They said they hadn’t been able to get you out of your room and I said I could do it in ten minutes and they said it would take me a lot longer,” Paige says, hands moving animatedly and Azzi can’t help the fond smile that flitters onto her face.
“So let me get this straight,” she says slowly, “we haven’t seen each other in weeks, haven’t fucked,” she purposefully grinds her hips down onto the other girl, “in weeks and you wanna delay it longer because you wanna win a bet against my brothers?”
Paige has the decency to look at least a little ashamed as she nods before giving Azzi a goofy grin, “yes? I love you?”
Azzi rolls her eyes as she slips off of Paige’s lap, already missing the warmth of being on top of the other girl, “can’t believe you’d rather win a bet than fuck me.”
“Nah,” Paige smirks as she stands up, her hands immediately inching themselves around Azzi’s waist, “I’d rather win a bet, use that money to get us a hotel tonight and then fuck you.”
“You’ve really thought this through haven’t you?” Azzi shakes her head, trying to hide her excitement at the idea of being in a hotel room -being alone, just the two of them- with Paige tonight.
“Ten steps ahead always baby,” Paige grins as she presses her lips against Azzi’s, ending it quicker than either of them would like, “now hurry up so I can win this bet.”
But Azzi doesn’t move, instead she pulls Paige back into her, resting their foreheads together as she breathes in the scent of her girlfriend.
“I’m really glad you’re home P,” she whispers and Paige smiles, gently rubbing her back, “didn’t feel like Christmas season without you.”
4. You’re all I need (underneath the tree)
Azzi’s just putting on the finishing touches to her outfit -dangly gold hoops that Paige had gotten her just because- when she feels a pair of arms wrap around her middle, a warm body being pressed against her chest. She smiles, letting herself melt into her wife’s -God she loves being able to say that- touch, leaning her head back against Paige’s shoulder.
“You look so pretty in that dress,” the older woman whispers into her ear as she runs her hands up and down the velvety red material covering Azzi’s body, “but you sure we have to go to your parents’ right now? Cause I think you’d look even better out of it.”
Azzi giggles; they’ve been together for almost nine years -known each other for even longer- and yet every time Paige gives her a compliment, she feels her insides swooning, cheeks going red like she’s still a teenager whose crush is flirting with her. And she thinks this feeling will never go away, that the halo-like glow Paige’s mere presence casts around her will never fade because this love -this all-consuming sense of you’re it for me between them- is going to last forever. She’s sure of it.
“Do you ever think of anything but sex?” Azzi rolls her eyes as she turns around in Paige’s arms, fingers immediately reaching up to fix the collar of Paige’s matching red shirt.
Paige grins, “nah cause I’m always thinking about you and so by default I’m always thinking about sex.”
“You’re insatiable,” Azzi shakes her head.
“Can you blame me when my wife looks like that?” Paige makes a show of looking up and down Azzi’s body, letting out a low appreciative whistle at the way the dress hugs her figure, the neckline dipping just low enough to stay respectable yet sexy.
“You look pretty good yourself Bueckers,” Azzi hums as she grazes her teeth lightly against Paige’s neck, making the older woman shudder.
“Careful Az,” Paige warns, the sultry lilt in her voice saying the exact opposite, “I might start getting the wrong idea.”
Azzi shrugs cheekily, “and what idea would that be?”
Paige smirks, gently tugging at Azzi’s dress to expose a shoulder before she’s attaching her lips to the newly uncovered patch of skin, “that maybe you want us to be late. Or better yet, maybe you don’t want us to go at all.”
Keening under the softness of Paige’s touch, Azzi reluctantly pushes the older woman away, and that might be worse because now she can see her eyes and the lust swimming in them makes her want to give into temptation. But they’re already running late and she has no desire to give their brother’s any teasing material, so she settles on stealing another kiss from Paige’s lips.
“Go warm up the car,” she mutters against the blonde’s lips, gently squeezing her waist before she detaches from Paige and starts to fix her dress, “I’mma just do a quick double check and then be out.”
“Yes your highness,” Paige teases with a slight roll of her eyes before she’s grabbing both her and Azzi’s packed overnight bags and heading towards the car.
Azzi smiles as she watches her go. As much as they joked about not going at all, both of them loved spending Christmas with their families, especially considering how the Fudds, Bueckers and everything in between had melded into one big one. Despite the fact that living in the DMV now meant that they saw at least someone in their family once a week, the idea of having everyone under the same roof was still thrilling nonetheless.
Life had a funny way of working out. The plan had been set in motion since Azzi had been drafted to DC and although Paige had been tempted to stay in Minnesota -after all being the hometown hero picked with the no.1 pick had served her and the. team well for her first four rookie years, considering she’d helped them return to their former championship glory- they had ultimately decided that with most of their family in the DMV area, it made more sense for Paige to ask for a trade to DC than it did for Azzi to move to Minnesota. It hadn’t been the smoothest transition -they’d had their fair share of fights while making the decision and then adjusting to it- but they’d figure it out. They always did. Because as good as Paige and Azzi were at fighting with each other, they were even better at fighting for each other.
Quickly going through the to-do-list in her brain, Azzi nods to herself as she silently checks off everything. She does a quick glance of her room, making sure that they’re not leaving anything they’d need, before reaching to grab her phone, just to text her parents that they were on their own way. Instead her eyes catch on an email notification, her heart beating erratically when she reads the name of the sender.
Fingers fidgeting with the heart necklace Paige had gotten her years ago, Azzi slowly clicks on the notification as anticipation burns throughout her whole body. She tries to steady her breathing as she scans through it, reading each line carefully and she almost drops her phone, large hot tears dripping down her cheeks as she reaches the end of it. Her chest feels heavy with an unknown feeling and she knows she needs to get to Paige, but her feet are rooted to their spot.
“Baby,” she hears her wife call out, followed by the sound of Paige’s footsteps climbing up the stairs, “you ready yet? The car’s already- oh my god baby what’s wrong?”
Azzi looks up from her phone to find Paige standing in the doorway. Concern floods the older woman’s sharp features as she rushes over to her, hands running all over Azzi’s body as she tries to figure out what’s wrong.
“Az? Baby? What’s going on? What happened,” Paige asks urgently, “baby please you’re scaring me. What’s wrong,” her eyes drop to the phone in Azzi’s hands as her voice gets desperate, “did someone say something? Do I need to go kill somebody? Fuck baby please don’t cry. Tell me what’s wrong? I swear I’ll fix it but you gotta tell me baby. Please.”
Wordlessly, Azzi hands over her phone. Paige’s expression is confused and apprehensive -maybe even a little preemptively angry- as she takes the device from her wife’s hand. Azzi watches as recognition dawn of the blonde’s face when she spots the familiar e-mail address; watches as her wife goes through the same emotions she had reading through the email. When Paige finally looks back at her, her own eyes are brimming with tears.
“Baby,” she says breathlessly, “this- I- we-,” she chokes back a sob, her voice so quiet in comparison to the loud enigma that is Paige Bueckers-Fudd, “we’re gonna be Moms?”
Azzi nods, tears continuing to spill down her cheeks as she finally manages to open her mouth, “yeah- yeah we are. Paige, we’re gonna have a baby. No two,” she corrects herself, remembering the exact words of the e-mail, “we’re gonna have two babies. Twins.”
And it’s unclear who moves first -it doesn’t really matter- but then they’re in each other’s arms, trying to hold each other as tightly as physically possible as their tears and smiles begin to blend into one. It had been a couple of months since they’d started the adoption process and they’d gone through every stage, slightly scared that something would go wrong. But they’d passed every background and family and personality check rather easily and it was this last part, the wait to hear about a child -well children- that needed them that had been the hardest of it. And now here it was, the last brushstroke that would complete the picture they’d started painting when they were fifteen. Two babies that would complete them.
“You’re gonna be such a good Mom,” Paige mutters against Azzi’s hair, “god Azzi, baby I can’t wait to see you with our babies -fuck- our babies. Fuck baby I don’t know what you got me but I’m afraid it’s gonna have to be second best Christmas present I’m getting this year.
Azzi laughs breathlessly, her face still buried in Paige’s neck, “think it’s gonna be the best Christmas present ever,” she slowly lifts her head so she can brush away the tears from under her wife’s eyes, “I love you. I wouldn’t wanna do this with anyone but you.”
Paige presses her lips against Azzi’s forehead, “me too baby. I love you so fucking much. You, me and our babies. It’s all I’m ever gonna want, all I’m ever gonna need.”
5. All I want (for Christmas is you)
There’s a lot going on in her house right now -the chatter of family and friends mingling with the sounds of Christmas Carols blaring from the speakers, the mixed aroma of a well-cooked meal and freshly baked desserts, the twinkly lights strung all around the house blinking in different colors- but Paige’s entire attention is across the room where both of her two children are hanging off of her wife like baubles on a Christmas tree. Miles is situated on her lap, his head buried in his favorite place, between Azzi’s neck and shoulder. Sienna, always slightly more independent, has one hand wrapped around her mother’s ankle while she sits on the floor, her focus squarely on a princess coloring book. It’s a sight that will never stop making Paige’s heart swell with pride and happiness, her wife with their kids.
Slowly excusing herself from the conversation she’d been having with a relative, Paige makes her way over to her family -to her whole world- with a soft smile on her face. She sits down next to her wife, placing a kiss to her temple that makes Azzi smile, before pressing one to her son’s forehead over the younger woman’s shoulder, before finally picking her daughter off the floor onto her lap and giving Sienna a kiss on her cheek.
“Hi family,” she whispers and she thinks that if she could choose to have one picture ingrained in her mind forever, it would be a picture of the three smiles she gets in return. Miles’s is sleepy yet so sincere, Sienna’s is toothy and wide and Azzi’s- we’ll Azzi’s is exactly like it’s been since they were fifteen. It’s her Paige smile, one that is bright and beautiful and magnificent and filled with the promise of i’ll love you forever.
“Mama look,” Sienna coos, shoving her picture in front of Paige’s face, “I color a p-incess.”
“It’s beautiful Si-Si,” Paige says warmly, “I think it should probably go on the fridge once everybody’s gone home yeah?”
Azzi snorts, her voice dropping so only her wife can hear, “baby, I don’t think there’s any more space left on the fridge considering you’ve been putting up every single thing they’ve ever colored or made.”
“I’ll make space,” Paige says haughtily, “everything they make is fridge-worthy.”
Azzi shakes her head fondly but Paige knows that despite her words, she’ll be right there by her side tonight to help her make space on their rather cluttered fridge so that they could hang Sienna’s new masterpiece somewhere on it.
“Mi’s close to falling asleep,” Azzi gestures to the little boy in her arms who’s clearly struggling to keep his eyes open, “I think we should probably let them open their Christmas Eve presents now.”
Despite Azzi trying to keep her tone to a whisper, Sienna’s ears perk up at the word “present” and she turns on Paige’s lap to face her Moms with large, hopeful eyes, “it’s pwesent time?”
“Yeah sweetheart. It's present time, but only one okay?” Paige taps Sienna’s nose gently, laughing when the little girl nods diligently and then squeals with excitement, rushing off of her mother’s lap so she can tell anyone within earshot that it’s time to open presents.
“I was gonna tell you to get everybody but I think she’s got it. She’s got your vocal chords for sure,” Azzi nudges Paige’s shoulder teasingly before coaxing Miles’ head out her neck, “you ready to open a present Mi?”
Miles yawns and Paige can’t help but coo at how cute he looks as he stretches in his mother’s arms. It fascinates her, how despite being twins, Miles and Sienna sometimes feel like they’re years apart. And she knows they're only 3 years old, and she knows that they’ll both change over time but Paige thinks that the difference in their personalities makes them fit together even more beautifully. Sienna had a protective streak, always ready to shield her demure brother and Miles had a knack from calming Sienna down, always ready to comfort his boisterous sister.
“MI,” Sienna yells as she tugs on her twin brother’s arm, having somehow already gathered their family into the living room, “wake up Mi. Time to open a Ch-istmas Eve pwesent.”
“I coming Si-Si,” Miles says softly as he finally waddles off of Azzi’s lap, tiredly rubbing his eyes as he follows his sister towards the barrage of Christmas presents underneath the tree. Their mothers scooch off of the couch to stand closer to the tree, Paige wrapping her arms around Azzi from behind as she hooks her chin over her wife’s shoulder.
“Alright Si-Si,” Tim says, his eyes twinkling as he looks down at his granddaughter, “remember, you should always pick the biggest present to open on Christmas Eve!”
Sienna’s eyes widen as she takes in her grandfather’s words before her gaze drifts towards the presents, scouting for the biggest one of them all. Paige drinks in the joy on her daughter’s face when she finally spots a large box that might just be taller than she is.
“That one!” Sienna says gleefully as she practically climbs over the rest of the gifts to get to her chosen one.
“Careful sweetheart,” Azzi calls out, her voice laced with hints of worry as she watches her daughter try to pick up the present that’s clearly heavier than she is.
“Uncle Drew,” Sienna croaks out, turning to Paige’s brother as she realizes just how big the present she’d chosen is, “help me pease!”
Drew laughs, wading through the sea of presents to get to his niece as he sedulously sits down to help her unwrap the gift. Paige tightens her grip around Azzi in anticipation as she watches for her daughter’s reaction. The twins are old enough this year to really understand their gifts and even though Paige is sure she knows them well enough -they’re her babies for fuck’s sake- to have gotten them present they’d love, she’s still a little scared they wouldn’t.
“Relax baby,” Azzi leans her head back to whisper into the blonde’s ear, having noticed the way Paige is fidgeting with the sleeve of the brunette’s sweater, “she’s gonna love it. She’s our daughter. We know her.”
Paige presses a delicate kiss against the back of her wife’s neck, “you always say the right thing.”
“Because I know you,” Azzi says softly, eyes crinkling in the corner as she smiles at Paige.
They’re broken out of their reverie by their daughter screaming in excitement as she finally uncovers her present -a barbie basketball court-, and just like Azzi had predicted she would, she says, “I love it, I love it, I love it. Thank you Mama, thank you Mommy!”
Paige and Azzi laugh, opening their arms in tandem for Sienna to rush into, “we’re glad you like it Si-Si.”
“I love it,” Sienna corrects as she gives each of them a sloppy kiss on the cheek.
“My turn now?” a meek voice cuts in and everyone's eyes fall onto Miles, who cowers slightly at having everyone’s attention.
“Yeah it is,” Paige grins at her son, tickling him lightly in the stomach before pushing him towards the presents, “pick whichever one you want to open Mi.”
Miles chews at his bottom lip, cautiously observing the huge pile of presents before turning to his Mothers’ with a way expression and Paige has to hide her grin, knowing exactly what he’s about to ask.
“Too many,” Miles says, bouncing nervously on his tiny little feet, “you help me pick pease Mama.”
Paige laughs as she gathers the little boy in her arms but not before she’s whispering in Azzi’s ear, “think he might be more indecisive than you baby,” which earns her a slight elbow to the stomach before she nods at her son, “of course I’ll help you pick sweetheart.”
She pretends to make a big show of searching for the right present, observing her son’s facial expression before she sees his eyes light up a little when she grabs a medium-sized blue one.
“Aha!” Paige yells triumphantly, causing all the adults in the room to snicker at her antiques, “think you should open this one Mi.”
Miles grins as he makes grabby hands towards the present in his mother’s hand. It takes him approximately four and a half seconds to rip off all the wrapping paper and his eyes marvel at the gift in his hands.
“Teddy,” Miles says in awe as he clutches the cuddly stuffed toy to his chest.
“Yeah it is baby,” Azzi nods as she kneels down next to the little boy, “here,” she points towards the blue heart on his chest, “how about you squeeze it?”
Miles does as he is told, squeezing the teddy-bear’s heart as tightly as he can and it starts to glow. Paige and Azzi’s voices ring out through the room, singing -slightly off-key- Miles’s favorite lullaby. The little boy’s eyes widen when he realizes the sound isn’t coming from his Mothers', both of whom have their mouths closed, but from the teddy-bear’s heart.
“Now, whenever you’re scared at night in your big boy bed, you can just squeeze teddy and it’ll be like Mommy and Mama are already there with you,” Azzi says softly as she brushes her hands through her son’s hair, “you like it Mi?”
“I’m gonna call it MoMa,” Miles says in lieu of an answer as he beams up at Paige and Azzi, “like Mommy and Mama but MoMa.”
Paige laughs, her eyes suddenly starting to feel a little wet, as she wraps an arm around Azzi’s waist, watching her children fawn over the presents they’d just opened. There’s plenty more left and she’s excited to watch their reaction to opening the others but the first ones are always just a little more special. And whether it was giving Sienna a basketball court, or giving Miles a version of their voices, through these gifts they’d tried to give their children a part of themselves.
“Hey,” Azzi snaps Paige out of her trance, her hand reaching down to intertwine with Paige’s as she begins to pull her away from their family, “come with me for a second.”
“Azzi Fudd,” Paige puts a dramatic hand to her chest, smirking as she follows her wife upstairs, “are you sneaking me into our bedroom to have a quickie? While our family and our children are right downstairs?”
Azzi turns to her with a cheeky grin as they enter their bedroom, tracing a finger down Paige’s arm, “would you object if I was?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely not. Let’s do it,” Paige waggles her eyebrows, pulling Azzi into her chest but the younger woman immediately shrugs herself out of it as she goes into their closet instead, “oh okay then, leave me high and dry on fucking Christmas Eve.”
“Shut up,” Azzi chides, still rummaging through drawers before she finally emerges from the mahogany doors with a small silver box, walking back to Paige with a small smile on her face, “I figured you should get to open a present tonight too.”
“Well the present I was hoping to unwrap was you-” her joke is cut off by Azzi laughing.
“Baby please, you are way too old to be saying that shit.”
“Hey,” Paige says with mock offense, “first of all, I’m not that old and second of all, you’re never too old to be flirting with your wife.”
“First of all, it’s okay that you’re old baby, I like them a little older,” Azzi smirks, “and second of all, you are if the flirting's that corny and third of all,” she gives Paige a pointed look when the other woman open her mouth to counter, “shut up and open your present.”
“Still so bossy aren’t you princess?” Paige shakes her head but she does as she told, delicately removing the lid from the box and gasping when she sees the necklace inside, “baby, it’s beautiful.”
The necklace is similar to the engagement ring she’d gotten for Azzi, not the one from the fair all those years ago, but the real one. It’s a simple enough chain with a heart shaped diamond-encrusted locket, except on either side of the heart, the chain is looped into two infinity symbols.
“Open it,” Azzi says softly.
“What?” Paige asks, still staring dazedly at the dainty jewelry in her hands.
“The heart,” Azzi points to the locket, “it opens.”
Paige does as she’s told, delicately using her nails to pull apart the locket and a fresh set of tears brim in her eyes when she sees what’s inside. On one side of the heart is a picture of Miles and Sienna, the twins grinning at the camera and Paige remembers the exact moment she’d taken it. On the other side, is a picture of Paige and Azzi; specifically a picture of their kiss at their wedding.
“Baby,” Paige says again, uncannily lost for words.
“You’re really fucking hard to shop for you know that?” Azzi says slowly, her own eyes glistening with moisture “like what do you even get someone who basically has everything because you know- like you always say- we’re your everything -all you could ever want is me, Miles and Sienna- and we’re already yours, just like you’re already ours. And so I figured I’d just give you a reminder of it, something you can always keep with you so you always know.”
“It’s perfect,” Paige breathes out as she holds the locker out towards Azzi, “put it on me?”
Azzi grins as Paige turns around and the blonde watches through the mirror as the chain is placed carefully around her neck and her wife firmly clasps it together before placing a soft kiss to the back of her neck.
“I love you,” Azzi whispers when Paige turns back around, “for eternity.”
“I love you,” Paige whispers back, pulling her wife flush against her chest, the locket with her world hanging between them, “to eternity and beyond.”
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𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇: Nagi Seishiro, Eita Otoya, Rin Itoshi 𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 3k 𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈: Accidental confessions - I love you. 𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: fem!reader, fluff, comedy, pet names used, could be a little angsty at times but nothing over the top but figured I should mention it.
--- Authors note: I may have gotten carried away with these. But I hope you enjoy them nonetheless. It was not proof read either so if there's any mistakes apologies ♡
Eita Otoya ✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Eita nearly always wore his headphones to drown out the city sounds that never seemed to stop. He was sure he would have hearing loss by his 30’s if he kept listening to it as loud as he did. But it was the only thing that would drown out the beeping cars and someone yelling at someone for bumping into them. Eita loved his music more than anything yet somehow almost every single song he would play somehow reminded him of you. He wanted to rip his hair out, he wondered if you ever got so fucking tired from running around his head. Eita was sure, you did this purely to torture him.
“Eita.. Hey look at me yeah?” You spoke, voice sounding like an angel. Loud in his ears as if the people in the movie you guys were watching were just speaking in whispers. Eyes setting on your face, seeing your kind ones looking back at him with such a gentle gaze. He's never felt this way before. Sure he's been around a few times but nothing has compared to the butterflies twirling around in his gut begging for him to say how he truly felt.
Things were casual, having met in a music store and going out on a couple ‘dates’. Eita saw them as dates, never knowing if you did. The two of you never discussed what either of you wanted. Eita didn't even know how you felt about him, let alone if you were even interested in him, more than just being friends anyways. Yet here he was, his hands clammy, feeling a lump in his throat and he felt faint. Eita tried to tell himself he was just being dramatic. That the worst you can say is no.
Eitas hands reached out to yours as he looked down at you as he blinked “Yeah? Sorry. What were you saying?” He said, as if he wasn't fully distracted by his own thoughts as they were seemingly in overdrive. As if his heart wasn't currently pounding in his ears, nearly drowning out you entirely. “I asked if you were okay, you don't seem well.. Do you wanna take a raincheck and come back tomorrow? I promi-” You were cut off by Eita sighing, not that he was irritated, he was, but with himself. “No.. no that's not it. I swear. I do have something I need to tell you though” He trailed off as he took a deep breath. “I have feelings for you. I could go as far as saying that my feelings are so strong one could possibly call it love. I've never felt this way about anyone before, and I'm not sure what to do about that.”
You let out a laugh, Eitas veins running cold, not that it lasted long as he felt your hands wrapping around his waist, nuzzling your face against his chest. “Silly boy, ya know for someone who was a playboy, youre really bad at reading women” You teased as even you felt warm, weeks of courting Eita turned into this? One would say you were the winner here.
Relief floods his pretty green eyes as he chuckles a bit, wrapping his hands around your waist resting his face in the crook of your neck. He felt so light, as if a ton of bricks was lifted from his shoulders. He closed his eyes for a moment enjoying the warmth that radiates from your body. “I think I should be the one saying that, my love. You have no idea how much you lift me just by being next to me, my beautiful muse” Rubbing his back as you sighed gently,
“Yeah I can tell.. You flirt much less now with others, only with me huh playboy?” You joked as you pulled from him just enough to see his face as he stood straight up again with a knowing smile “Yeah yeah thats because of you idiot” Rolling your eyes you reach up to press a kiss against his cheek. “Whatever you say ya simp.” You joked as you grabbed Eitas hand watching from his apartment window the city below you, the snowflakes falling steadily. Eita grumbled something as he moved to sit behind you wrapping his arms around your midsection and resting his chin on your head. “That was rude”
“Yeah yeah, you'll be okay playboy” You teased as he groaned. A laugh leaving your lips, yeah you two will be perfectly fine.
✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Nagi Seishiro ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
Nagi didn't think he needed anyone, and how wrong he couldve been. After befriending not only Reo but you.. Nagi soon came to realize that maybe everything isn't a hassle. Maybe.. Just maybe.. He actually enjoyed having you around. It wasn't often that he would pause his game just to respond to your text, hang out with Reo more often than normal, or even leave his apartment willingly just to see you. Nagi didn't understand his own feelings with this, looking up stupid articles about his feelings to try to understand them. One word kept showing up, “love.” Nagi was confused by this development. Did he actually love you? It wasn't the same rapid beating in his chest when he was hanging out with Reo, not that his heart skipped a beat when he was with Reo. That has to be it - right?
He wasn't sure how it happened or why his chest had felt so funny when you were around. Maybe it was the humidity in the air, yeah it was just the heat. Rather the heat that would raise on his cheeks when you so much as looked in his direction with a soft gaze, or even said his hair was cute and complimented him well. How his grey toned eyes fit his features so nicely. Nagi didn't know what to do with himself when these things happened, his face would get just hot, his stomach would do so many flips he felt sick. Nagi couldn't even handle your gaze, how would he be able to even hold your hand, to press his lips against yours. They looked so inviting, so soft. He would stay up thinking about you, how you would taste.. Shaking the thoughts as he tossed and turned.
“Seishiro!? Earth to Seishirooo!” You waved your hand in front of his face as you sat across from him as he blinked a few times at you, his cheeks heating with a soft hue. Clearing his throat as he looked back down at his phone. His reaction made you stifle a laugh before leaning back in his bed, your back against the wall “Hmm something on your mind?” You questioned as your gaze drifted to your own phone as you scrolled through your feeds. Yeah, you. “Hell no. I was.. was distracted by uh.. something going on in my game. Don't worry about it. It's gone now anyways.” He lied through his teeth as you raised a brow and tilt your head to the side, almost as if you were calling his bluff. “Mm, right. So what was I talking about then?” Nagi couldn't recall a single thing you had said, too distracted by your lips and how the sun beams that seeped through his curtains hit the gloss that was on your lips. “Uhm.. uh..” He looked at everything but you as he tried to come up with something.
An amused grin curled at the corner of your lips, leaning on your elbows. “I was talking about Reo and how he looked really hot, all dressed up y'know.” You too, lied through your teeth but that was not the point right now. Nagi felt an unfamiliar sensation flooding his veins as he clicked his tongue against his teeth before tossing his phone aside, a pout on his lips. He turned to you as he huffed. Jealousy and insecurities flooding his body. “I'm just teasing Seishiro I cou-” He cuts you off as he looks at you with eyes filled with determination which shut you up quickly as he opens his mouth several times before shutting it again.
With his feelings being higher than he ever thought they could be he blurts out words you half expected to never fall from his lips “I love you okay!? I don't want to hear about Reo or h-how hot you think he is, or how strong he looks. I-I know I wouldn't match up to him. I've been alone most of my life. I don't know what these feelings are. I just know that.. I can't match up to him for you. I'm not Reo.”
Looking at him with a shocked expression as a soft sigh left your lips reaching across the table grabbing his hands into your own. “That is the insecurities talking, Sei..” You moved closer to him as a hand rested against the top of his head, nails grazing against his scalp, earning a soft groan from his throat as he leaned into your touch.
You sighed softly as you felt the anxiety radiating from his body. “Sei. Do you really think that if I actually wanted Reo that I would be here with you all the time? That I would wait for you to come online just to be able to play games with you? Seishiro.. The feelings I have for you would outweigh anyone like Reo. No amount of money would change how I feel about you. I talk to the stars about you, whispering to the wind hoping you would hear how much I love you. Not even the Gods could keep me away from you Seishiro. I'm sorry if talking about Reo that way made you upset.”
Nagis eyes searched for yours, as if he was looking for something in them. However he's only met with a soft gaze that was filled with nothing but adoration. He moves to sit up as he nearly tackles you back against the mattress, his arms wrapping around you rightly his head finding its place in your chest. A laugh pulled from your throat as he nuzzled against you.
“You mean it?” He murmured, his voice muffled.
“Yeah, I mean it, Seishiro.” You spoke as you reached to card your fingers through his hair as he gave your frame a squeeze falling in love with the way you felt in his arms. Yeah, maybe not being alone is nice.
Rin Itoshi ♡・゚:。.:・゚♡・゚:。.:・゚
Meeting Rin was purely an accident and neither of you remember how it happened. Well Rin did, he fully remembers the moment you walked into his life standing by his side even when he was the lowest he had ever been. Rin did not however remember when he fell for you. Maybe it was when he first saw you, maybe it was after. Maybe it was when you first breathed his name rather than calling him Itoshi. That didn't matter to him anymore. All he knew is what he wanted to protect you no matter the cost or consequence of his action. He would move mountains if you asked him too.
Rin has always kept to himself, he found it hard venturing out, let alone understanding how he felt about you. Let alone he found it hard to even think with how he was that you would ever feel the same about him. Did you too feel the same as he did? Rin knew he was good at one thing, and still had his own self doubts.
Now the two of you were on the train home, having gone to see a new horror movie Rin had convinced you to go see. You had been scared out of your mind the whole time while Rin didn't seem to even move a muscle while watching it. However the movie still ended up being really good. Rin had invited you over to his place for some dinner, and you weren't going to say no to his cooking. He somehow was amazing in the kitchen. Not that you knew how, but you weren't going to complain at all.
The setting sun casted beautiful hues of pinks and purples in the sky. Stopping as you pulled out your phone, Rin had stopped looking back at you as you snapped the photo. Friends dont look at friends that way. However the thought passes as quickly as it comes into your head.
“Rin wait, stay just like that, look up towards the sky.” You told him as he sighed but still entertained your request. Humming as you tisked before walking over to him grabbing his cheeks as you adjusted his head. His cheeks felt cold under your touch. “There just like that dont move pretty RinRin” You teased as you took a few steps back again taking a few snaps as you smiled at your phone.
“Sometimes you should listen to me Rin” You mused as you showed him the photo, it did look great as he playfully rolled his eyes “Sure, I'd rather not do that. A bit too.. Lukewarm for me doll”
A gasp passed your lips as your jaw slacked at his harmless insult. He most definitely did not see you as lukewarm. “Ouch I'm wounded, might need some homemade cookies and ice cream to fill the wounds you've caused me” You said dramatically as you gripped his jacket falling to your knees, giggling the whole way down. Rin couldn't help but to look at you with a raised brow and an amused expression. A chuckle being forced from his chest as he grabbed your hand pulling you back to your feet.
“That was the most dramatic thing you've done, however if you want cookies you're gonna make them yourself or at least help me.” He spoke, a smile, albeit small, still on his lips. “Rin.. the last time you let me in the kitchen I almost burnt down your apartment and I also ruined the baking sheet. That's not a good idea.”
Rin remembered this happening, the screaming of his name, and panic in your voice. Trying to waft out the smoke all while to get the smoke detector to stop beeping, crying out how the fire department was going to show up if he did help. All the while he was doubled over holding his stomach as belting laughs rippled from his throat. Rin was not helpful at all. It was one of his favorite memories the two of you shared.
“Yeah I'd prefer if you didn't do that again. I'll take care of it” he spoke with a monotone voice as he grimaced.
Finally making it back to his apartment, with you not in the kitchen while he made dinner, choosing to just pull out the store bought cookies hoping it would be enough to appease you. Idle conversation filled the air as the two of you ate. However, getting a notification on your phone stating there had been an accident with the trains and you were now going to be stuck or get a taxi in hopes that it wouldnt take hours to get you home due to the amount of added traffic due to the trains being down.
“You could always just stay over. I think you still have some clothes here, if not you can just wear mine.” Rin stated as if it was the only option. Not that he was wrong, however it did sound better than dealing with the hellish drive home.
“Fine but you better keep your boyish hands to yourself” You teased as you skipped to his bedroom and flicked on the light. Humming as you changed into lounge wear, it was much more comfortable than what you had on before.
Peering out from the door once you were in your Pj’s “Come on, I'm ready for bed. It's a damn good thing I have clothes over here from the last time I stayed over. I'd hate to be in your stinky clothes” You teased. Rin has never smelled bad. In fact you bought the cologne he had worn and even when he got low he would buy the exact same one again. You did say it was our favorite afterall.
Rin let out a groan as he stood up and walked over to you, and entered the room. Following you into the bed, watching you wiggle around to find a comfortable spot as his hands came to his hips with raised brows, shaking his head with a chuckle. “You're somethin’ else I swear.” Rin walked into the closet to change in there as he stopped out. Seeing your chest steadily rising and falling. His gaze lingering for a moment. Taking out his phone as he took a few photos, to tease you with later.
Finally climbing into the bed, he was sure you were in a deep sleep as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against him. Selfishly he knew his feelings. Rin pressed a kiss against your forehead as he sighed. “I love you so much. You have no idea what you do to me, you little minx.” Although Rin couldn't have been more wrong as he blinked a few times as he felt you shift under his weight, peering up at him with wide eyes. “Ya know, confessions are best given when someone is awake RinRin.” You teased, as he avoided your gaze only for you to bring it back to you as your hand was pressed against his cheek.
“And you're awake, so it makes it easier for me too.” You murmured as you leaned forward, lips locking together as if it was the most perfect puzzle pieces locking together. “I love you too. We will talk more about this in the morning and what that means for us, however, for now. Protect me from the monsters under your bed, yeah?” Rin only nodded, his cheeks tinted pink as his heart raced in his chest. Feeling you adjust yourself in his arms, your face in the crook of his neck.
This was perfect. You were perfect.
♡・゚:。.:・゚♡・゚:。.:・゚
Likes and reblogs are appreciated! My requests are open as well!.
tags: @pixelcafe-network @hayatoseyepatch @hayatoseyepatch @sugurouge
taglist is open for bllk content, lmk if you want to join.
#Rin Itoshi x reader#nagi x reader#eita otoya x reader#Blue lock x reader#bllk x reader#blue lock x you#bllk fluff#bllk x you#blue lock fluff#blue lock#bllk#nagi seishiro x reader#nagi seishiro#seishiro nagi x reader#seishiro nagi#seishiro nagi x reader fluff#rin itoshi fluff#rin itoshi x you#rin itoshi x y/n#itoshi rin#eita otoya#otoya eita#otoya x reader#otoya eita x reader
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Until the Last Loop: When the Hour Strikes
(Your doom is drawing nearer and nearer, and now you see the signs that will lead to it)
poly mercenaries 141 x princess reader, time loop
Masterlist | Part One | Part Two
Chaos eventually bloomed like rot within the castle walls, just as you’d expected. It began as whispers- always, in every life. Soft, serpentine murmurs slipping through the cracks of stone and shadow- but they spread quickly, clawing their way into the hearts of servants and courtiers alike. The air grew heavy with suspicion, thick as the scent of burning wax and spilled ink.
You felt it before you heard it.
A shift in the way the guards tightened their grips on their spears, in the way your maids avoided your gaze as they fastened your corset too tightly, fingers trembling against your spine. The silence when you entered a room was not the silence of reverence but the hush of fear- of vultures circling, their wings brushing against the walls.
You knew this song. Far too well.
The opening notes were always the same, a familiar melody of betrayal and inevitability, and like every time… the chords struck ominously. Sharp. Harsh. As if the unseen hand twisting the strings were far bolder.
And then the letters came.
Three sealed envelopes left abandoned in the corridors- no names, no crests, just ink blotted into thin, cheap parchment. The first was delivered to the head steward, its contents enough to send the kitchens into disarray as accusations flew. Poisoned wine. A plot to kill the king. Fingers pointed, but no evidence surfaced beyond the words themselves.
The food you were served was always cold and on occasions, spoiled.
The second letter found its way to your father’s study. You hadn’t been there when he read it, but the rage in his voice cracked through the halls like thunder. Words like “treason” and “execution” followed you even after the doors slammed shut.
The third appeared in your chambers. Unmarked. Unsigned.
But unmistakably meant for you.
You turned the paper over in your hands as the candlelight flickered against the script. It bore no threats- only a single sentence, written in a trembling hand:
Trust no one.
You burned it before the wax dripped too far. It didn’t warm the cold ache that burrowed itself in the tendons of your neck.
Of course, your “protectors” had to be aware of everything- maybe they even knew better than you of what rumors were spreading about you, and just as they’d done in most of your latest lives, they try to help:
Soap was the first to storm into yours room, expression thunderous, brows furrowed and his voice tight in his anger.
“Ye need to tell me if ye’ve seen anyone suspicious,” he said, pacing like a caged animal. It was nice to see that you weren’t the only one to feel like that “Anyone lurking where they shouldn’t be. Even if it’s one of the servants.”
You almost laughed at the absurdity of it. Suspicious? In this place, everything was suspicious. Every glance, every word spoken behind closed doors, every breath held too long. No one could be trusted, not really. Everyone and everything was another knot on the noose to go around your neck.
But you bit your tongue, folding your arms against the cold that crept through the stones. “You think it’s one of them?”
He stopped, turning to face you. “I think it’s someone close. Someone who knows enough about ye to make this believable.”
The implication lingered between you, unspoken but heavy.
Soap didn’t say it, but you saw it in the way his eyes flickered to the ashes in the hearth where the letter had burned, in the way his hand hovered near the hilt of his dagger.
“It’s not me.” You sighed.
“I ken, lass.” He said it too quickly, like he was reassuring himself more than you. Then he ran a hand through his shabby hair, exhaling sharply. “But someone wants it to look like it is.”
You scoffed, turning away from him at last. If your hands were shaking, he said nothing of them. “You and I both know someone could come, admit to spreading rumors, and my father would still believe I am to blame. Let it go, Johnny.”
“Lass…”
You had no reply for him. Why would you? You had given up. All you had left was just attempt to ease the fear that constantly plagued you like a swarm of flies.
Ghost was next. He came with shadows clinging to his heels, his presence a weight that settled over the room like the storm clouds of cold winters.
“Who gave you the letter?”
You stared at him, fingers curling into your skirts. They were rumpled, not fully cleaned, but you cared not. Bit by bit, you were nearing the striking hour and everyone around you was a constant reminder of the ticking seconds. “No one. It was already here when I came back.”
Ghost said nothing, the mask leaving him as unreadable as always, but his silence was suffocating.
“Do you think I’m lying?”
“No.” A grunt. A pause. “But I think someone’s lying to you.”
His words burrowed under your skin, sharp and invasive. You didn’t want to believe him, didn’t want to acknowledge the seed of doubt taking root in your chest.
But it was there. Growing and spreading its invasive roots.
Ghost lingered even after the questions stopped, his eyes never leaving you, as if he thought you might disappear if he looked away for one second. You should have found it unnerving, but instead, it felt like armor- thin and brittle, but armor nonetheless.
After him, Gaz found you in the gardens, the dying roses from before now nothing more than brittle stems and scattered petals. He didn’t speak at first, didn’t press, just sat beside you.
And for once, you didn’t feel the need to fill the silence. Your tongue stopped being a weapon several lifetimes ago; you’d rather have it still in your mouth when you were executed, rather than brutally ripped off for “spreading filthy lies” against your beloved father.
It was Gaz who broke it, eventually. “… We’ll figure it out. We are all searching leads, you know.”
You turned to look at him, searching for something- reassurance, perhaps, or conviction- but found only quiet determination. You wished you could bathe in such an emotion, but…
“Even if it’s too late?” you asked softly.
“It won’t be.”
The certainty in his voice twisted something inside you, fragile and aching. You didn’t want to believe him..
Couldn’t allow yourself such a hope, after all the lives you’d been robbed of. You knew they didn’t like this attitude of yours, found it strange; how certain you were of your early demise.
Price, on the other hand, was a pillar- unshakable and steady in a way that felt rare amidst all the chaos unfolding around you. While the others hunted for answers, sharp and swift, Price moved differently. Slower. More deliberate.
Ghost had told you Price had always been like that; a born, patient hunter. He never rushed, never panicked. Instead, he listened. Observed. Held the room together with nothing but the weight of his presence.
“There’s more to this than letters and rumors.” He said one evening, his voice low as he studied the map of the palace spread between you. Distantly, you noted that his writing was not the same as the one on the letter. “Whoever’s behind this knows what they’re doing.”
You swallowed, the words curling tight in your chest. It made it hard to speak, to think, but you didn’t allow yourself to drown just yet. “Do you think it’ll matter?”
His eyes met yours then- calm and steady. Grounding.
“It matters,” he said quietly. “All of it does, princess. Your insistence on dying so soon is almost making me uncomfortable.”
You ignored his second service; no one would truly understand. It wasn’t the answer you’d been expecting, but it was one you found yourself holding onto anyway.
Because as the days stretched and the shadows pressed closer, Price didn’t falter. He never looked at you the way others did. Never let the whispers of treason or guilt change the way he stood beside you.
When the tension twisted sharp and the weight of it all threatened to drag you under, he didn’t flinch.
He stayed.
And it wasn’t in words or reassurances- it was in the small, steady things. The way he made sure you ate, quietly setting a plate down beside you when your hands were too unsteady to hold a fork. The way he noticed when the walls felt too close, wordlessly leading you outside to breathe.
He was a tether when everything else threatened to break apart.
You never questioned it- never questioned him. Had no energy to do, so why would you question one of the few who didn’t look at you like you were a speck of sticky dirt under their shoes?
Because Price wasn’t like the others. He didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep. He didn’t fill the silence with pretty words.
He simply stayed.
And even when you felt like the world was caving in, that was enough.
By the end of the week, the castle was a hornet’s nest of accusations and fear. The kitchens were searched. The servants were questioned. Even the guards began turning on each other. The hour of the accusations had struck, and now the hour of your execution was nearing.
You were tired- bone-deep, soul-deep. The kind of exhaustion that even sleep couldn’t ease. Not that you slept much these days. The nightmares saw to that, clawing at the edges of your mind until the walls between dream and waking began to blur.
You stared too long into the mirrors, searching for someone you might still recognize and finding only the hollow reflection of a girl who had died too many times to keep pretending she was still whole.
I can’t keep doing this.
I am going to die again. And again. And again.
If anyone- if they- heard you pacing your rooms like a restless animal, no one came in to check you. If they heard your sobs, they knew no comfort offered would soothe you.
One night, after your father visited, after he made you kneel and kiss his feet and swear that you were not attempting to overthrow him, you broke.
Loud, pained, terrified sobs tore through your chest, raw and unrelenting. You pressed your hands to your mouth, desperate to muffle the sounds, but it did little to silence the grief clawing its way out of you.
Your knees buckled beneath the weight of it, and you crumpled to the floor, trembling as the cold seeped into your skin. The walls of your chambers felt smaller, closer, as though they were closing in, suffocating you.
You didn’t know how long you stayed there- folded in on yourself, shivering and broken. Minutes? Hours? Time had lost its meaning, stretching endlessly as your thoughts spiraled.
The door creaked.
You flinched, your breath hitching as shadows shifted across the floor. You didn’t look up. You couldn’t.
Not until a warm, heavy cloak was draped over your shoulders.
Price knelt beside you, silent as he settled onto the floor. He didn’t speak, didn’t try to pull words from you. He only sat, solid and steady, his presence filling the room like the glow of dying embers- quiet, but enduring.
And for the first time that night, the sobs began to slow.
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Nope.
So let's find some!
How To Identify Cars
(even if you know nothing about cars)
I should first start by noting that I've already written a guide on telling cars apart, but that's different from identifying them - chiefly because in that context concluding "this is not any car that I know" is a success, since it means you've told it apart from the ones you do know. If you work out what car it is every time that happens, that will eventually lead to enough knowledge and experience to identify cars at a glance. But gradually learning cars as you go through life is rather different than having a specific car (or worse, a shred of it) that you NEED the name of harder than the guy from the memes wants pictures of Spiderman. Hence, this guide.
Properly going over the topic requires me to once again flaunt my studies in perceptual psychology like it isn't the one exam I failed and twice at that recapping what actually happens when you recognize something. That is, your mind analyzes the shape it's looking at, scanning it for traits and features, compares what it notices with items in its database, and identifies a match.
Experience helps with all aspects of that.
It improves analysis, because it trains you to parse the shape and scan it for distinctive traits. Where one may see this...
...I saw this.
It also may mean, with good luck, already being familiar enough with the car in question to recognize it instantly. Or without that luck, as per this case, using the aforementioned details to narrow down the possibilities. For example, the transverse engine indicates a front wheel drive car, and the round, aerodynamic but unfussy styling is clearly from no sooner than the early 90s (not that the custom shaped headlights didn't already give that away) and no later than the late 00s. This narrowed the search quite significantly, and pointed me to potential suspects, like the Ford Falcon's sixth generation (known as AU)...
...though this couldn't be it because the lower edge of the side window is rounded and much lower than that of the windshield. But hey, that's one more detail to note!
So how about the Honda Civic's sixth generation (known as EK)?
Not this either, since the top of the fender follows a gentle upper curve along with the windshield, where in our car the top of the fender's flat, and the door's frame falls beneath the front pillar of the roof (known as the A pillar), where in our car it stretches over to conceal it (trait first introduced in 1980 by the 🇮🇹Giorgetto Giugiaro🇮🇹-designed Isuzu Piazza, btw).
But that's two more details we've noticed!
Then what about the Chevrolet (/Toyota) Cavalier?
See? Now I don't even need to explain why not, because noticing the discrepancies in the cars above taught us details about the car we're looking for and taught us where to look, and thanks to that experience we spot discrepancies here!
This to say, where the experience can't manage it, sheer trial and error fills in the gaps. It's what many people will tell you about failure: try long enough and, if you'll keep learning what worked and what didn't, you'll ultimately end up knowing what you need to. So armed with all the knowledge we've gone over, I went about ruling out a lot of other cars, like the fourth generation Honda Prelude or the Saturn SL1.
But some may not know those cars to begin with. And I must assume they'll be delighted to find out that at one point I just googled "90s sedan" and just checked all images for potential fits one by one. Again, sheer trial and error. Well, not really, since I already knew to look among 90s cars, but again that could come with trial and error if you had a keen enough eye to notice older cars' lines were too flat and newer cars' were too... more.
But even then, the terms were way too wide, and even needing just a lightning's span to assess each picture still presented an insurmountable task. So I used that which is not just my greatest strength, but every single human's, even those delusional enough to believe otherwise:
my brethren.
Yep. Surprisingly enough, even despite my use of light mode the friendly people in the things-about-cars-in-posts Discord server were people willing to help me.
And it was a daunting task, largely due to the heartbreakingly cruel combination of crop and resolution. Lights and front bumper, which as I've gone over previously are the most distinctive elements of a car, are just shy of featured, and the badge on the front is just shy of sharp enough to be parsed. I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say that with 10 more rows of pixels I would probably have clocked it in 10 seconds. But as it was, thanks to the power of multiple perspectives and knowledge bases, theories flew in every which direction, from the Hyundai Tiburon/Tuscani (nope, exposed A pillars) to the Ford Mondeo (same as above and flatter lines) to the Escort (the Ford, not me. Neither was it.)
We stumbled in the dark for over six hours, until the legend that is friend of things-about-cars-in-posts and member of this blog @brick-enthusiast came in clutch and finally released us from the torment:
And yes, I reacted with my trademark gratitude.
In my defense, my brain kept rightly insisting it was a 90s Chevrolet but stopped just shy of remembering the Lumina.
And now you can appreciate just how mean the crop was. I think a single row of pixels would have clearly shown the wheel well to be that close to the fender crease, which would've been a useful element.
Oh well. We've made it now. It's the second generation Chevrolet Lumina.
And this is a brand new collective blog for car identification whose point is precisely that, instead of replying with behemoths like these as I do in @things-about-cars-in-posts causing me to take months to provide a simple answer, the posts will just be a couple of lines about what model the car is and, if relevant, how one can tell. And you can be part of the people involved (pretty please) by joining the aforementioned Discord and asking about the cult. Er, the cult. Er, what-is-this-car.
So for the sake of ceremony, allow me to state:
This car is a second generation (1995-2001) Chevrolet Lumina.
See: the fender's crease and its flat upper edge, the windshield pillars covered by the edge of the door, the windshield's bottom line lining up with the front window's.
#chevrolet lumina#a very merry Christmas for all those in the Americas for whom it still is lol#i tried my best to publish while it was still Christmas here as well#but. yanno. it's christmas. so you tend to have and want to do other things.#either way TADA!
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starring: santa claus x male reader
request: SO. Santa is visiting a young man, the reader, who is actually at the top of the nice list this year. Santa comes down the chimney and, instead of cookies and milk, finds the reader fucking himself with a candy cane, looking at naughty drawings of the very St. Nick himself! Clearly, the reader deserves to be on the naughty list. Unfortunately, Santa didn’t bring any coal! Surely, a day long, brutal plowing from his Saint Nick Dick will be enough punishment, right?
warnings: smut, cursing, really rough sex, fucking yourself with a candy cane
christmas, the best time and the time to get present for the great old saint nick (if you believe in that kind of thing) and what do you know it seems you were a good boy this year so you're the first stop of the night getting a visit from santa.
as long as this has been going on the old man expected to find some cookies and milk out like any other year or even a note bit instead he reaches the end of the chimney and finds you fucking yourself with a candy cane "oh dear what is this all about" santa asks, eyes darting around what sound be a very good boy but it seems only a naughty one lives here.
"santa i wasn't expecting you" you moan, the delicious treat plunging deeper and deeper into you, this isn't right naughty boys deserve all the coal in the world but uh oh it seems he forgot it in his sleigh and he's getting hard in his jeans so what other pusnishment could he choose.
walking over to you and standing above you with a mean look written over his face "why don't you pleasure yourself with something more real" santa says pulling his pants down to reveal his thick cock and you jump at the offer, wrapping you hand around it and sinking your mouth onto it, not being able to get it all in you just stroked the rest with your shaking hand.
"no need to be nervous boy, santas gonna take real good care of you tonight" the old man says before grabbing both sides of your head and fucking your mouth roughly with no remorse more the gagging sounds you make, a bunch of obscenities leaving his mouth as you took him in your throat.
"turn around boy" he orders pulling out from your mouth and stroking his cock to the juicy sight of your plump ass, it just looked so fuckable and fucked is what he did, plowing your hole open nice and wide with his long cock, calling you such a nasty boy for being a slut to the joy bringer of december "what is mrs.claus not putting out enough" you joke earning a stinging slap from the big man, a red mark being left on your skin which probably wont go away for another months or so.
"shut up boy before you cant walk for a month" he threatens but like doesn't that sound like such a good time, so you continue to hurl jokes at him just enough to where he fucks you so hard your hole feels like it's being ripped apart, he did this all night, making sure you understood the consequences of being naughty.
fucking you until you passed out, waking up the next morning sore and unable to fully move but finding a letter from the man himself saying "i hope to see you next year the same way i left you" and maybe this isn't a bad thing, i mean getting fucked by santa is better than any present i've ever gotten.
taglist:@mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09 @znerac
#santa claus#santa claus x reader#santa claus x male reader#x male reader#x male y/n#gay smut#x male smut#x male#gay#male reader#bottom male reader#christmas#merry christmas#dear santa
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