#Girl Youre Being Mocked As You Should Be

[shivroy]

why are fucking terfs reblogging the goddamn roys juul of grief image. why would terfs ever like succession....... ummmmmy kys

[heniareth]

Morrigan's comment towards Alistair, the "So you have finally decided to rejoin us, have you? Falling on your blade in grief seemed like too much trouble, I take it?" is such an objectively nasty thing to say but also. Also!! This is Flemeth. This is Flemeth's brand of "humor". These are the only jokes Morrigan has ever been exposed to and the TONE SHE USES HERE!!! Morrigan I love and appreciate your attempts at bantering please please let me give you a crash course in jokes that will make everybody laugh

[hearts401]

i hate when ppl im not close with get involved in my life and habits. like this is not ur business! you're not fixing anything!

[illyrianbitch]

Are We Still Friends? — Part Two

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: You and Azriel are struggling with the aftermath of your heated argument. Unfortunately, you both cope in very different ways.

Warnings: angst! (with a side of some friendship fluff)

Word Count: 5.2k

Part One | Series Masterlist | Part Three

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

The room reeked of stale arrogance and cold stone— like it always did.

You could handle Keir alone. Azriel knew that. You did, too. But that didn’t make it easy. Az’s presence was enough to silence Keir’s snide remarks with a single look. Without him here, Keir was running his mouth like a common court gossip, his words dripping with the kind of entitlement that made your skin crawl.

He was droning on now, his voice a low hum in your ears like the buzzing of a persistent, uncatchable fly; rattling demands, complaints, thinly veiled insults. It was always like this.

You were barely listening. 

Your mind kept drifting to Az, to the conversation the night before. 

Your chest simmered with a new emotion every time you replayed it. Anger, disappointment, betrayal. You weren’t sure which stung more: his sharp tone, the way he’d dismissed you, or the bitter fact that you’d never had Azriel talk to you like that before.

Where was he now, anyway? What had Selene needed so urgently that he’d decided official court matters could wait? Somewhere far more comfortable than this gods-forsaken pit, you were sure.

“…and the resources we’re requesting are more than reasonable, given the sacrifices we’ve made to maintain this arrangement.”

Keir’s voice sliced through your spiraling thoughts, slick, self-satisfied, and grating. He had quite the punchable features, you observed. How had he lasted this long without a good deck to the face?

“If Rhysand truly values his court,” Keir continued, a mocking edge creeping into his tone, “and not just his little city, then perhaps he should send someone who understands the importance of negotiation.”

Your mind jumped again—to Azriel, to the way he’d looked at you like you were the one who’d crossed the line. You couldn’t figure out where you’d gone wrong. Was it the mention of Elain? That small, stillness you’d felt in him? You hadn’t intended it to be a jab, hadn’t meant to make him feel guilty. You were concerned. Your approach was good-natured. Or, at least you’d thought so. 

Keir’s voice drifted in and out of focus as you stared at him, boredom spreading through you, a dull throb in your chest. You were ready to leave. Ready to escape the suffocating air of the room. You were annoyed at yourself, too, if you were being honest. Here you were, seething, ungrounded in a way you rarely allowed yourself to be, simply because of a five-minute argument. A spat. 

Usually, during these meetings, Azriel helped you regulate your dislike for Keir. When the male’s mere existence stirred memories of his cruelty to Mor, Azriel’s presence would be a steadying hand at the small of your back, a quiet reminder to keep your temper in check.

But he wasn’t there. And your thoughts were all over the place. And Keir only wanted to talk to Azriel—why did everyone need him so suddenly?

“Your attempts at diplomacy are largely symbolic. A pretty face to soften the High Lord’s more… aggressive tactics. And, well, without the Spymaster— ”

Something snapped inside you. That diplomatic part of you, the skills you’d fought tooth and nail for, had perfected over centuries, crumbled completely.

“Shut up!”

The words hit the room like a thunderclap. The two males beside him stiffened, their hands twitching toward their weapons.

“For the love of the Mother,” you said through gritted teeth, “Shut. Up.” 

Keir’s eyes widened, his mouth hanging open for a fraction of a second before he recovered, his features twisting with irritation— with offense, with shock. “Excuse me, girl?”

You stood slowly, your chair scraping loudly against the stone floor. You knew you should grimace, should feel some pang of guilt for letting your temper get the better of you. This wasn’t what you were here to do. This wasn’t how you tended to be.

But you didn’t care.

You were tired, irritated, and in desperate need of a drink, a joint, or someone to hit in the face.

“Do you ever tire of hearing yourself speak?” you said, gesturing sharply with your hands. “Or do you enjoy the sound of your own idiocy too much to notice how pathetic you sound?”

Keir’s eyes narrowed, his smirk returning, like he enjoyed your bite. Found a worthy opponent, even. “Careful,” he said, his voice low, threatening. “You’re out of line.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. You’d give Mor a tight hug this week, praise her once more for being able to survive seventeen years under the suffocating arrogance of a male like Keir.

“Oh, I’m just getting started,” you snapped. “You are not some untouchable ruler. You leech off the power Rhysand allows you to have. Do not forget that.”

Keir’s jaw tightened, his knuckles white where they gripped the arms of his chair. One of his soldiers shifted slightly, his hand brushing the hilt of his sword. You turned your glare on him.

“Try it,” you said coldly. “I dare you. Lay a hand on me, and you’ll find out just how thin your leash really is. Do you think Rhysand wouldn’t love an excuse to raze this pathetic little agreement to the ground? You think Morrigan wouldn’t personally take that sword and shove it somewhere creative? Trust me, they’re looking for an excuse.”

Keir inhaled sharply as he stood slowly, placing his palms on the table before him and leaning forward with a snarl. The gleam in his eyes was predatory, animalistic. “Are you threatening me?”

“Yes.” You mirrored him, placing your palms on the table and leaning forward, still holding his gaze tight.  “Would you like to see if I’m bluffing?”

Silence blanketed the room as Keir stared at you. You could see it in his eyes—the horror of recognizing that you might actually be his equal. Or worse, his superior. He was struggling with how to approach the situation, how to balance his newfound realization with the need to maintain authority in front of his males.

After a long moment, Keir shifted his gaze to his men and motioned for them to stand down. Their hands dropped, spines stiffening like statues at his sides.

You took the silence as your answer.

“That might be the smartest move you’ve ever made,” you said with an amused hum. Straightening, you brushed your hands off and smiled. “The Spymaster will be back next week to negotiate terms about resources. Pray he’s in a better mood than I am.”

A sense of satisfaction bloomed in your chest as you turned to leave. It felt good to finally tell him off—Lord knew it had been coming for centuries. You’d been biting it back at every meeting, every forced smile, every empty negotiation. It had been far more tame than you’d liked, but it was something, at least. A small victory. 

The relief washed over you for a fleeting moment before it began to slip away, replaced by that familiar unease, the stirring of anger still simmering beneath the surface.

You knew why.

Keir wasn’t the male you were truly mad at. 

At least, not in the way that made your heart ache. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

You’d barely gotten out of the bath and dressed when there was a soft knock at your door. You let out a deep sigh, running your hands along your face before walking into the bedroom proper, feeling the slight chill of the air against your still-damp skin.

The thought of Azriel hit you almost instantly, your body tensing at the possibility. After all, it was just the two of you living in the townhome, and it was late—no one else was expected. As much as part of you wanted to see him—to curse him out, maybe, or pull an apology from him, you weren’t sure—a bigger part of you just wanted to sit alone. To wallow in the strange self-pity that had bloomed in your stomach since the meeting with Keir.

“Go away, Azriel. I don’t want to t-”

Your gaze landed on Mor instead. She stood in the doorway, hands behind her back, a small smile on her lips.

“Good thing I’m not Azriel,” she said, stepping forward. Her familiar perfume drifted through the room. “I’m much more attractive.”

You stifled a laugh despite yourself, the corners of your mouth tugging into a reluctant smile. Mor had always been infuriatingly good at that—chipping away at your mood, no matter how sour. Tonight, she looked less mischievous than usual, wearing a simpler gown—still stunning, but more comfortable.

“What are you doing here?”

Mor’s presence instantly lightened the weight on your chest, even just slightly, but a glimmer of disappointment sparkled in your chest, threaded through your ribs and refused to leave. Part of you had hoped it was Azriel at your door. Even if you’d have sent him away with biting remarks, at least he would’ve tried. At least he would’ve been there.

“I heard through the grapevine that there was a messy meeting in the Hewn City.”

Your stomach twisted. Shit. Keir had worked much faster than you’d thought. You wondered, briefly, how long it had taken for him to go run and complain— had he waited an hour? Perhaps two?

You grimaced, offering a sheepish smile. “Oh, right. That,” you drawled. “Is Rhys mad?”

“Not at you,” she replied. “He’s mad he missed it. I am, too.”

A grin tugged at her lips, and it wasn’t long before identical ones broke across both of your faces. You looked down, scuffing the carpet with your toe. “I don’t know what got into me.”

Mor snorted. “My father got into you.”

You looked up and raised a brow. She shot you an unimpressed look, the kind that would usually mean you were inconveniencing her with your childish humor. But there was amusement in her eyes, glinting like sunlight on glass. She wanted to laugh.

“You know what I meant,” Mor grumbled, lips twitching again. “Keir tends to bring out the worst in everyone.”

You nodded at that, tucking a loose stand of hair behind your ear. “I know I tell you this all the time,” you said, “But gods am I sorry you had to grow up with him.”

Mo shrugged, waving it off with a dismissive hand. The other stayed behind her back. “Character development and all that,” she said breezily. “Anyway, I have something for you.”

“If it’s wine, I think I’ll pass.”

She shook her head and brought her hand around, revealing a small to-go box. It was unmistakable—the kind used by your favorite bakery, all the way in the Day Court. 

“Ta-da,” she sang.

Your chest warmed at the sight. Slowly, you took the offering, running your fingers along the box’s edges. When you looked back at her, she was watching you with a tender smile—the kind only Morrigan could give. It wasn’t the playful smirk or sharp grin she wore for the world. 

“What's this for?”

Mor tilted her head. “You’ve had a rough twenty-four hours. I thought you could use some comfort treats. And company.”

Your heart swelled. You’d told her and Elain little of the fight with Azriel when they’d sought you out, pacing outside your door until they decided you were ready. Elain had apologized profusely, saying she hadn’t meant to spark the argument when she suggested you talk to him. You’d assured her there was no apology needed—not from her, at least. She’d only sped up the inevitable: the realization that Azriel didn’t seem to value your opinion the way you so often valued his.

Mor wrapped an arm around your shoulders, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially. “I also did bring wine. It’s downstairs. We can sit, talk—and if Azriel comes home, I’ll make sure he doesn’t hear us. Or see us.”

You let Mor guide you downstairs, where she opened a bottle of wine and drew you into a conversation—a deliberate distraction about her and Emerie, about apartment hunting and her attempts at civility with Nesta. You listened as best as you could, grateful for the reprieve, and even forced yourself to savor the dessert she’d brought.

It was as good as you remembered. That was something, at least. Azriel hadn’t managed to ruin that, despite the bitter taste your argument had left behind.

Mor waited about half an hour before gently steering the conversation where she really wanted it to go: what happened with you and Az, how you were feeling.

The problem was, you couldn’t quite put your finger on why you were so upset. You told Mor the things you knew for certain: that it was unfair for Azriel to assume he knew what you were going to say, that he hadn’t given you—his best friend for centuries—a chance to speak or express your concern. That he hadn’t trusted you enough to even hear you out. Mor nodded along, agreeing that Azriel had been out of line, that it was unlike him to take someone else’s word over yours so easily.

But even as she agreed with you, it didn’t ease the pressure in your chest. It wasn’t just about him being unfair or dismissive. There was something deeper, something you hadn’t yet figured out how to say. Something else about it that bothered you so deeply. 

Maybe it was the way he’d so easily twisted your intentions, the way he’d looked at you as if you were an inconvenience, made you feel like every word you’d spoken had been some elaborate ruse. Like your concern wasn’t genuine. Like the years you’d spent knowing him, understanding him, recognizing the subtle shifts in his behavior, didn’t matter at all. You were just finding a convenient excuse to meddle, to dig your claws into his relationship, sabotage what he had so you could steal him away in the middle of the night. 

It was possible you were being a little overdramatic. And you’d definitely emphasized his words in your retelling to Mor, but it didn’t change the intent. What he’d said. What he’d believed. To imply that after everything, you couldn’t be a good friend to him. That you couldn’t care without an ulterior motive.

He hadn’t even tried to talk to you since. Not a word, not a glance. You tried to reason with yourself—it had only been a day. Maybe he needed time to cool off, to think. Maybe he was as confused as you were, unsure of how things had spiraled so fast. Maybe this silence was just him giving you space.

But a part of you didn’t think that was true. There was a possibility that his silence wasn’t for your sake—it was for his. Because he didn’t think he owed you anything.

That thought was the worst of all.  That he didn’t even care.

And you were furious, too, that Azriel had tipped you so completely off balance, that these feelings had bled into your lashing out at Keir. The memory of it was already clawing at you, leaving a faint sting of embarrassment. You knew it would follow you like a stray dog, nipping at your heels. You’d gotten emotional. You—the Night Court’s ever-diplomatic emissary—had been anything but.

You were certain you’d care more about it in a few days, when you had the energy to think clearly.

“Y/n?”

You blinked, startled out of your daze, suddenly aware of how tightly your fingers had curled around the small fork in your hand.

“Hm?”

Mor gave you a sympathetic smile. “I think you should get some rest,” she said, crouching down in front of you.

You hadn’t realized you’d ended up on the floor, leaning against the table—a habit you fell into when you were upset, like grounding yourself by sinking as close to the earth as possible. Mor extended a hand, helping you up with that steady, no-nonsense kind of care only she could offer.

She started tidying up without asking, brushing away crumbs and organizing the small mess you’d both made. Her eyes flicked to the pastry box on the table. “Are you gonna finish this? Or do you want me to toss it?”

You glanced down, confused, at the small leftover piece in the box. That was strange. You usually devoured these, barely leaving crumbs, let alone a full bite. For a moment, you thought nothing of it.

And then it clicked. It was instinct, an old habit of sorts—leaving a bite for Azriel to try.

You bit back a disappointed sigh. What had once been second nature, something you did without thinking, now felt deeply embarrassing. Sickening. Too intimate, like a little girl with a crush.

“Toss it,” you said quickly, your voice tight, sharper than intended.

Mor didn’t comment, simply folded the box closed and tossed it into the trash. Before she left, she pulled you into a hug, warm and unhurried.

“It’s okay to focus on the anger right now,” she murmured into your hair. “If nothing else makes sense, you’re entitled to it. I think you’re a few centuries overdue.”

You let out a short, dry laugh. “Yeah,” you replied, the word heavy on your tongue. “I think I have a few more remarks left in me.”

Mor grinned as she stepped back, smoothing her hands over your arms before heading for the door. “Atta girl. Make him miserable.”

You lingered on her words as you climbed the stairs.

A grudge sounded great. It sounded righteous. It sounded like something you could do—at least for now, until your feelings settled.

Lucien really was better than you. He’d endured so much, and somehow, he still found room for forgiveness, a way to let Azriel off the hook.

But you didn’t want to let this go. Not yet.

You’d given Azriel centuries of friendship, of loyalty and unwavering support, and he hadn’t even deemed you worthy of the benefit of the doubt. Maybe later, you could be like Lucien, could forgive Azriel for his shortcomings and his idiocy.

Not tonight.

You curled up in bed, willing yourself to embrace the cold, sharp edges of your anger. But, despite your best efforts, that wasn’t what stayed.

The sadness did.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Azriel didn’t apologize. 

Not verbally, at least. It was a habit born in the aftermath of the first war, when he’d been forced to reckon with who he’d become, the things he’d done as Spymaster.

He’d learned quickly that some things were too heavy to face, too raw to acknowledge. Easier to tuck them away, seal them behind his silence. Apologies came with a price he couldn’t play. Because if he started apologizing for those things—acts born of desperation, of blind obedience to a High Lord who demanded it—he’d never stop. He’d be drowning in it for centuries.

So he didn’t. He wouldn’t. And if he refused to apologize for the horrors of his past—if the shame and pain of it were too much—then he had to be consistent. If he didn’t do it then, he couldn’t do it now. Not even for the people he loved.

Instead, he accepted the damage he caused. Accepted that he’d make mistakes. That he’d hurt people.

He stored those moments away in the ever-growing, aching place inside him that proved how unlovable he was—how destined he was to hurt the people he cared for most. How inevitable his failures were.

On the worst days, when the silence felt unbearable, he’d reach for those memories, let them remind him of who he truly was. He’d sit with them, twist them into hatred—at himself, at his failure, at the fact he couldn’t change it. He could never seem to stop.

But Azriel loved his family. He truly did. He’d die for them. He’d commit every horrible act over and over if that was what was needed to ensure their safety. So he usually found other ways to apologize.

This time, though, Azriel felt… embarrassed. Ashamed, even. Humiliated. He’d acted like a child, reckless and unthinking, had been dismissive of someone he loved.

He valued the females in his life, respected them deeply. And usually, for them, he could set aside his twisted need to avoid apologies. Instantly.

You and him had argued before—fought, even. It was bound to happen over centuries. But it had never been like this. This felt different. Everyone knew.

He wanted to apologize the night it happened. But he couldn’t. He’d gone too far. He told himself that his apology needed to be big enough to make up for it. 

All week, the memory looped in his mind, relentless and punishing. The second the accusation left his lips, regret had consumed him—an instant, choking thing. Even his shadows had recoiled, letting out a sound that might’ve been a gasp. But the worst part, the part that kept him up at night, was your face.

Your features had twisted into something he’d never seen before. Not in all the centuries you’d been by his side. Something like offense. Or maybe, Azriel thought bitterly, something worse. He’d convinced himself it was disgust. Pure, unfiltered disgust.

It bothered him more than he cared to admit.

Azriel was used to people being upset with him. It came with the territory—his silence, his sharp edges, the anger he carried like armor. He could be difficult; he knew that. Could be impulsive, cold, quick to anger. Over centuries, he’d learned to live with it, to endure the way disappointment settled in others’ eyes when he pushed too far.  But it never suffocated him like this.

He had disappointed you. You were angry, disgusted by the accusation he'd thrown your way—why had he done that?

Selene's words lingered in his mind, over and over, such meaningless, small words. They’d burrowed themselves deep, driven him borderline mad. He couldn’t figure out why.

It made him itch, made him unsettled in a way that didn’t make sense. He had assumed that itch meant the words bothered him—something about them, something he couldn't quite grasp—and that had gotten under his skin, gnawing at him.

He’d been avoiding you since that night.  It was easy, despite the fact that you were the only two in the house. After all, you had been avoiding him too.

He was being a coward. He knew it. Avoiding you when he knew damn well he needed to find you, get you alone, and apologize. Profusely. Repeat it until there was some hope of undoing the damage. But avoidance was easier. Safer.

It was what he was best at.

The thought of apologizing only for you to turn him away, for you to look at him with disgust, with anger, was more than he could stomach. And he'd convinced himself that that was the most likely scenario—and it would be valid. Completely, utterly valid.

So, he did what he did best: he retreated into himself. Into Selene.

But a few days had passed, and now the ache in Azriel’s chest was gaping. Raw. Unbearable. He couldn’t breathe.

The guilt had started before the sun rose, creeping up Azriel’s spine as he pulled away from Selene’s warm embrace. She’d stirred when he slipped out of bed, her lips parted to protest, but he hadn’t stayed to hear her argument. It wasn’t comfortable—none of it. Not the weight in his chest, not the way his shadows murmured disapproval like a broken melody on repeat.

He needed to be here—at family brunch. He wanted to be here. And for the first time in days, his shadows seemed content with a decision he’d made. Thank the gods for that.

The house was full by time he arrived. He didn’t need his shadows to tell him. He could hear their laughter from the doorway, could smell the pull of a sweet feast. Rhysand was the first to notice his presence, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned back in his chair. 

“Look who decided to join after all.”

Az didn’t reply, not in the way he usually did. Instead, his gaze immediately found you, his breath stalling as he caught the subtle stiffening of your shoulders. You didn’t turn. You didn’t so much as glance back.

Mor, seated beside you, did. Her brown eyes flitted from you to him, a semi-scowl in her expression as she turned her gaze to Emerie on her left, dismissing Azriel entirely.

Another person he’d probably have to apologize to.

Az swallowed, his shadows tugging at him like restless children, desperate to curl around you, to offer something—comfort, perhaps, or a plea for forgiveness he hadn’t yet put into words. But you still didn’t move.

Clearing his throat, Azriel finally said, “I’m sorry I’m late.” 

It was Feyre who responded, casting a quick glance towards you before offering Azriel a smile. “No worries, Az. We’re glad you’re here.”

That was a lie. But the chatter began once more, anyways. 

Az moved forward, gaze flicking to the one empty chair at the table— the chair beside you. Just as he reached for it, your head snapped up, eyes meeting his for the first time in days. 

“Are you sure you want to sit there?”

Azriel froze. “What?”

You tilted your head at him, eyes narrowing in a way he hadn’t quite seen before—a look that was, if he was being honest, downright unnerving. But then, just as quickly, the emotion fell away, replaced by something sharper, crueler, and laced with exaggerated concern. “What if I’m overcome with lust and expose myself to you?”

From across the table, Cassian choked violently on his drink, Nesta muttering something under her breath as she thumped his back.

Azriel closed his eyes for a brief second, forcing a steady inhale before lowering himself into the chair anyway. He could feel his shadows retreating reluctantly, curling tighter against him, sharing his discomfort. Only when the conversation resumed once more did Az lean closer to you, dropping his voice low enough for only you to hear.

“Can we talk?”

“I don’t know, can we? Did Selene give you permission?”

Azriel clenched his jaw, willing himself to take another deep inhale. Before he could pull a response, your face shifted into something exaggerated, all false excitement and mock sweetness. “Don’t tell me I’m being considered as your third? Oh gods. Should I throw myself at you now, or—?”

“Y/n, come on,” Az murmured, his voice tight— pleading. “Please.”

For a beat, Azriel thought you were mulling it over, almost expected to see your face soften like he was used to. But it didn’t. 

��“Rhys,” you said, your voice carrying as you turned to the High Lord. “Would you like to tell Azriel what to expect during his meeting with Keir next week? He’d like to know.”

Az’s stomach twisted at the sound of his name—not Az, but Azriel. Cold. Formal. Foreign. He hated the way it sounded coming from you, devoid of the warmth or familiarity he’d always taken for granted, like he was a stranger. Had he truly made you that angry in the span of a few minutes? 

This, Az thought bitterly, was why he opted to never speak unless it was needed.

Rhys nodded, though his gaze flickered between you and Azriel with something like caution. Before Azriel could protest, or even try to get another word in, you turned to Mor, engaging her in conversation as if the exchange hadn’t happened at all.

The rest of the meal passed in a strange limbo. It wasn’t hostile—if anything, it felt painfully normal. Conversations swirled around the table. Laughter floated between bites of food— and his shadows had danced whenever the sound of yours had reached them.

Azriel was willing to admit that, with the situation aside, he’d missed this—missed his family. The time spent with Selene lately had only highlighted how much he craved the sense of home that these moments brought. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to apologize for his absence.

He’d been nervous to disrupt what he and Selene had, even if “alright” was the only word he could muster to describe it. It wasn’t perfect—it wasn’t love—but it was... something. It could develop into something. Right?

But as good as the meal could’ve been, your silence weighed on him like a stone. You ignored him completely. No more snark, no insults, not even a glance. It got to the point where he wanted a petty remark, wanted you to look at him and tell him exactly how stupid he’d been. Usually, you were vocal when you were angry. Confrontational. He’d seen it over centuries, the way your fury blazed as brightly as you. You didn’t let things stew. You didn’t let him stew.

Why were you so quiet now? Why weren’t you yelling at him, demanding answers, or throwing his mistakes back at him like daggers?

Why had you accepted him—and his stupidity—with the same quiet resignation as that night?

It was worse. It was so much worse. Your anger felt different with him. And he hated it.

When the meal ended, Azriel stayed seated, watching as the others began to leave. He watched as you leaned down to Nyx, your hand brushing the baby’s cheek with such tender care it made his chest ache. Feyre’s expression softened at the sight, and you smiled at her and Rhys, thanking them for the meal before leaving with Mor, Emerie, Cassian, and Nesta.

None of the females spared him a glance. Cassian offered him a small, apologetic smile. He wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse.

Thank the gods Amren wasn’t here. Small blessings, Az supposed.

He sighed, clearing his plate and bringing it to the kitchen. He rinsed it, the sound of water doing nothing to drown out the weight in his chest, and when he turned to leave, Rhys was there, Nyx balanced on one arm.

“Good luck, brother,” Rhys said. Az didn’t bother asking what he meant. He already knew.

The wistful, pitying smile Rhys wore was infuriating. The amused gleam in his violet eyes was worse. Rhys looked almost... grateful, as if relieved it wasn’t his head on the chopping block.

“A fight with the one member of our family collectively loved by everyone else,” Rhys mused, shaking his head. “Phew. You’ve made an enemy of a pack of vicious, beautiful wolves.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, but before he could respond, Rhys shifted his attention to Nyx.

“Can you say, ‘Uncle Az is screwed?’” He cooed. Nyx babbled nonsensically, waving a tiny fist, and Rhys grinned. “Yeah, he’s gonna have to grovel, huh?”

Azriel glared, his shadows bristling as he brushed past him with an unamused glare. Rhys’s laughter followed him down the hall.

Must grovel, his shadows repeated, Grovel. Apologize. Admit.

Whatever the hell that meant.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Part Three

authors note:

me trying to write reader and getting sad that shes lowkey gaslighting herself and downplaying her emotions bc she cares about az: ☹️

me writing az as someone who just accepts he hurts people and doesnt realize he can like...just apologize: 😒

me knowing this angst is gonna be so fun:🥰

anyways thank you for reading!! i've already written a lot more, so expect 2-3 more parts! <3 (i have their makeup written😏) every comment or ask yall leave gets me so inspired

but until then... how long do yall think its gonna take for them to talk? tehehe

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@honethatty12 @chillymountsjess @velaris-avatar-formula1 @idkitsem @kazbrkker

[tr0physlaught3r]

Dads that take your education very. very. seriously.

It’s not that others weren’t as smart as your father, it was that no one else could possibly understand his little girls mind the way he does.

Not to mention the prospect of other boys and girls distracting you from your studies, naturally you were pulled out of school only private tutors and his stringently designed curriculum for his little girl.

Dad that hand pick your homeschool uniform, ya know to establish routine and all , nevermind how short, tight, or sheer certain prices may be, or how long it takes him to dress you in the morning

Dad who uses his new uniform as an excuse to keep his hands on you, adjusting your buttons, toying with the skirt, tugging your sweater.

Reading in dads lap while he makes slow circles between your legs and up your thighs, remaining indifferent to your increasingly flustered body twitching against his crotch.

Getting kisses and caresses for doing well in your studies “all this and brains too? I really just have the perfect daughter don’t I?”

Getting swats and slaps for low scores and lazy habits because “how dare you take a good education for granted you brat”

You take it all no matter what because

“I wouldn’t put you through this if I didn’t love you”

Dad who hires his brother for your extra curricular activities, how else should he trust?

Getting to lounge and smoke in his study, that counts as study hall right?

Sitting behind you at the piano, “fixing your posture” during violin, being handsy must run in the family I guess

Private tennis with private warmups, hearing your uncle coo and mock you as he stretches you too far , trapping you under his body in a position that makes you squeak

“Aww poor baby, that just means your hips are too tight~

Field trips to the museum with uncle plugged up w no panties as you take notes, feeling his hand on your hip as he gently pushes you along “move along honey wouldn’t wanna make a scene would we?”

taking you to the library just to drag you to the back and suck you through your panties against the bookcases in the back “just keep a lookout sweetness, can’t help myself at the moment.”

[shotmrmiller]

retired pornstar!Ghost who can't seem to ever keep his hands to himself whenever you're around, even when about to film.

f!reader, 18+ smut. unedited.

If you're standing at a table making coffee, he'll sneak up from behind and wrap his arms around you, his chin resting on the crown of your head.

Hi, Ghost.

G'mornin', love.

If you're walking out of Price's office with a script in hand, he's by your side in mere moments, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

"New script?"

"You should know, you're my co-star. Again."

"Lucky me, pet."

He's leading you toward his office, perches you on his desk and cups his hand over your core.

"Gonna let me eat this pretty pussy?"

"I dunno, Ghost. Gonna fuck me here too?" you smirk at him.

"Whatever you want from me," he breathes.

You stumble out hours later with swollen lips, love bites mottled over your neck and collarbone, and his warm spend trickling down your legs because Ghost pocketed your knickers.

The day of, he's texting you if you'd like a ride to the studio.

Sure thing. Get me in 15.

Yes ma'am.

He doesn't ask for your address, and you don't question why he knows where you live either. Ghost, forever the gentleman, opens the passenger door for you, and gently helps you get in. The entire drive over, his hand rested on your bare thigh, his small finger occasionally grazing your clothed cunt. By the time you arrive, your knickers are damp with your arousal.

"Somethin' wrong, love?"

You snort at his feigned innocence. "Cute. Is mercilessly teasing me fun to you?"

"Sorry 'bout tha.'" Ghost doesn't sound all that apologetic.

He brings you in tight, wrapping his arm around you firmly.

"Lemme make it up t'you in my dressin' room", he purrs.

You click your tongue. "Price'll have your head if he catches me in there, especially when we're about to make a vid."

"Be sure to keep quiet, then. Would absolutely hate to get caught."

With his smart fingers and expert tongue, you're brought to peak 3 times.

Price rolls his eyes when he spots you both walking in at the same time 15 minutes before the shoot.

"Always cheek by jowl, eh Simon?"

His piercing eyes cut to Price's. "Not a crime, last I checked."

Price lifts his hands up, palms outward in mock surrender. "Easy, Ghost. Only teasin'." He turns away, gesturing the crew to get in their places.

Ghost taps your chin with his pointer finger, drawing your attention. "Showtime, baby."

The wolfish grin on your face mirrors his.

"Showtime," you echo.

Ghost turns sex into art. He moves with discipline; every languid roll of his hips deliberate. Like a skilled painter, he transformed you into a living masterpiece, using each drag of his cock as a brush stroke on the canvas of your very being.

It's otherworldly.

He watches your face intently as he changes the angle, bites his bottom lip when he changes the pace, grunting into your ear as your walls begin to flutter— the telltale sign of 'his favorite part', as he loves to say.

"Gonna come f'me? Lemme hear that sweet, little voice of yours, pet." Almost as if following his command, you're digging your nails into his biceps, and closing your eyes in bliss as you climax. A loud, drawn-out moan escapes your lips as your cunt rhythmically pulses around Ghost's heavy length. Your soft thighs quiver around his broad waist as he works you through the aftershocks with slow, firm thrusts.

"Look at tha'. Came when I told ya to, like a good girl." Your mind is blank from your orgasm, tongue too heavy and thick in your mouth for you to even try to articulate a response.

"Creamed all over my cock, can ya hear it?" Hard not to when the wet sounds of your pussy squelching every time he bottoms out fills the room.

"You're so fuckin' tight. Cunt's squeezin' me like it doesn't want me to pull out."

His filthy words send a jolt straight to your throbbing core. "Felt tha'. What, you got a breedin' kink?"

Another jolt, so sharp it almost hurts.

"Want me to fill ya with my come? Is tha' it?" His husky voice dripping with desire. With want.

yes. yesyesyessss—

"Tell me you want me. Fuck, tell me you want me to come in you." The words fall from your spit-slick lips like a faucet.

"Come in me, oh my god, come in me. Fill my pussy up."

His thrusts lose some of their rhythm, but still not sloppy enough like when he's on the very brink.

Ghost's jaw in clenched, as if digging his heels in to hold off his climax. Well, that's simply unacceptable.

Your fingers tangle into his hair, giving him a slight tug to have his lips hover over yours.

"I want you come in me, Simon."

The change is instantaneous. His eyes widen a fraction before stealing your very breath with a searing kiss and fucks you. He puts his weight behind each snap of his hips. The tip of his cock pressing into the plug of your womb, making your eyes prickle with tears.

It's too much, he's too much, you think you've gone and bitten off more than you can chew with him when he mercifully stills with a groan you swallow— cock twitching as it pains your insides white.

He breaks away, gasping for air, sweat that beaded on his forehead dripping onto your heated skin.

Cut.

DaVinci and his muse.

Later, when he threads his fingers into your damp hair, you ask him why he doesn't record with others.

"'Cause I don't want to."

Oh?

"Besides, you and I have fantastic chemistry, dont'cha think?" He tugs on a lock of hair. "The fans love seeing us together, just as much as I love seeing my cock disappear into your sweet pussy."

He chuckles when he takes in your flustered expression. "Don't ask questions you aren't prepared to hear, then."

[i-love-ptv]

Playing Dangerous ཐི♡̵̼͓̥͒̾͘ཋྀ

Pairing: Police Officer!Boyfriend!Rafe Cameron x Girlfriend!Reader

You get pulled over by the police, but the officer just so happens to be your boyfriend. Will he let you off with just a warning? Part.2!

Wc: 1,822

SMUT (nothing crazy, just a steaming hot blowjob ;)) + winks of fluff

Hi guys!!! Uhm sorry I didn’t get a whole bunch out during October, I had lots of shit going on I fear…So take this as an apology lol. Also I have a (late) halloween fic coming out soon so stay tuned ;)

Feedback is always appreciated! xx

You hear the sirens chirp, and you take a glance at the rear view mirror, that’s when you see the police car riding your tail. You sigh due to the fact that you’re the only car on this road, and begin to pull over.

Were you going over the speed limit? No, you couldn’t possibly be doing so, you always remained cautious on the road.

Your hands rest idly on the steering wheel as you listen to the sound of boots getting closer. Your window is down, making the chilled night air kiss your skin.

The air is filled with cologne that rings familiar; you see his arms resting inside your car window first, the tattoo of your name staring right back at you.

You’re met with none other than your boyfriend, Rafe. He ducks down so his bright crystal-colored eyes are leveled with yours.

“Awfully late to be driving around here, huh Peach?” Rafe teases you with a smirk.

“I was just finishing my errands, Ray. And you scared me! I thought I was actually in trouble!” You try to keep the scowl on your face, but the more you stare at him, the more your face cracks into a smile.

Rafe quirks a brow at you after he takes a few seconds to assess you. “Who said you’re not in trouble? You’re driving without your glasses on, baby.”

You roll your eyes, “You couldn’t have possibly known I wasn’t wearing my glasses when you were behind me,” you replied.

“And besides, you act like I can’t see without them at all.”

Rafe tuts at your comment, “Thought it's already been established that you gotta wear ‘em when you drive, you not following orders now?” His smirk grows all the wider as he takes in your smaller frame.

You bite your lip and gaze at him, “Oh, well everybody knows that I’m a good girl, officer.”

“Yeah? ‘Cause I don’t think a good girl would break the rules, hm?” Rafe’s face is inching towards yours, slowly leaning more and more into your car.

You pout, feigning innocence, “I wouldn’t do a thing like that, that’s for sure.” Your lips part, going to leave a steamy kiss to the officer’s rosy, yet somewhat chapped lips, but he pulls away slightly, leaving you gaping with glossy eyes.

“I dunno…Think you should step out for a second, sweetheart. Y’know, just to follow protocol.” He whispers hotly against your ear, making your panties dampen.

You quickly exit your car, and as soon as you close the door, Rafe’s pressing you into it.

“I think you deserve a ticket, Peaches, d’ya think so?” His expression darkens whilst he fondles your love-handles, your floral sundress from earlier being bunched up around your hips. You shake your head ‘no’, letting out a soft “uh-uh”.

Rafe’s eyes soften, similar to how you look; he mocks you, exaggerating his pout. “Well, what’re we gonna do with you then, huh precious?”

Your tongue darts out for his lips, your mouth encloses his, and there’s nothing sweet about this kiss. Your tongues battle heatedly, Rafe allows you to think that you’ve won, until he presses his prominent bulge against your stomach, making you gasp in surprise and delight.

Spit dribbles down your chin, his handle cradles your head, leaving no room for you to pull away. You moan and whimper against him, your nimble fingers glide down his chiseled body, and rest against his belt buckle.

Then, Rafe remembers that the two of you are still in fact, on the side of the road. He breaks the kiss, making you chase after him; the string of saliva breaking whilst you whimper for more.

“Mmm, I know baby. Tell you what, how about I have you atone in a different way, would you like that pretty?” His veiny hands raise, resting lightly against your shoulders as his thumbs rub against your throat.

You eagerly nod your head up and down, wanting nothing more than to get your hands on your man wearing his delicious uniform.

Rafe drags you to the passenger seat then dashes to the driver's seat, and he mentally, he thanks every god out there that he forgot to turn both his body-cam, and his dash-cam back on.

He leans the seat back and beckons you over with his index and middle finger. “C’mon Peaches, y’know what to do.” You reach over and begin to unbuckle his pants.

Your body digs somewhat uncomfortably into the center console, but you can’t seem to care— not when Rafe’s cock twitches in his boxers. Your mouth nearly waters at the sight.

You take him out, making him hiss and screw his eyes shut for a moment.

Your manicured finger brushes against his pink tip, rubbing circles as you leave soft, feathery kisses to the base of his dick.

Rafe grunts in frustration, growing impatient with your constant teasing. He grabs your hair roughly, angling your face just above his dick.

“Make sure you breathe through your nose f’me, Peach.”

Your head is pushed down; your lips wrap perfectly around his shaft as it goes deeper into your mouth. Your nose is pressed against Rafe’s hairy thigh, his cock kissing the back of your throat beautifully. You gag slightly at his length, making your boyfriend chuckle.

He pulls you off, then sends you right back down just as quick. You hollow your cheeks as your head continues to bob. Spit gathers around your mouth due to Rafe’s force. He uses his left hand to hold your hair, while his right rubs the back of your neck.

It’s something so soft, so sweet, while in such a dirty, sinful situation.

The wet sounds of your gagging and slurping is all Rafe can focus on. —That and how sexy you look with the blue and red lights reflecting off of your face. It’s a sight he wishes to preserve in his mind for the rest of eternity.

He fully removes you from his dick, allowing you to catch your breath. “Mhm, you got it baby,” he says through his panting.

He guides your head back down; you don’t even get a chance to wrap your hand around what doesn’t fit because he’s thrusting up into your mouth.

Tears pool into your eyes, but Rafe can hardly tell due to them nearly rolling to the back of your head.

You whimper around him, your angelic sounds and the squelching which permeated the car only encourage him.

“You’re my good girl though, right Peaches? You’re gonna take it real good f’me?” Rafe moans at the sensation of your tongue swirling around his cock.

You squeal around him, trying to shake your head ‘yes’ at him but Rafe continues to roll his hips up.

The car shifts when another comes speeding down the road, but he can’t seem to give a shit when the woman of his dreams is nearly sucking him off the bone.

Rafe’s head is tilted towards the roof, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows his spit. His chest heaves, his grip on the back of your neck tightening as he moans hopelessly.

“H-hah, that mouth was made f’me precious,” he grunts through his gritted teeth.

“You. Were. Made. For. Me.” His words are emphasized by his thrusts.

He switches hands, allowing his left to snatch up your hand, so his right can hold onto the open window.

His bucking grows erratic, his rhythm being lost, alongside his mind as he grows closer and closer to his climax. You can feel him twitching in your mouth, another sign of him almost finishing.

Rafe can no longer contain his moans, he’s borderline wailing at this point, his body is lifting off the seat, but you maintain your pace.

“Y-yes baby! That’s it! Make me cum, honey. Make me fucking cum.” He sounds almost pained, which fuels your burning desire.

Rafe’s been reduced to a whimpering mess now, despite his acts of dominance earlier, but neither of you mind. His moans go higher in pitch, then suddenly, you feel his warm load flood your mouth.

The salty taste makes you moan, making Rafe shiver, and his thighs twitch.

You release him with a ‘pop’, and you leave a sweet, yet seductive kiss to the head of his flushed cock.

His load mixed with your hot saliva drips down your chin, you take your index finger and scoop it into your mouth while holding Rafe’s deepend gaze.

You lock your lips with his, and he gasps at your attempt to literally, take his breath away.

He breaks away with a low grumble, and you giggle. You pull down the driver side’s visor and look at yourself in the mirror. Your hair is sticking up every which way, your mascara from earlier in the day now dries against your tear stained cheeks, and your lips are kiss bitten and puckered.

Rafe tucks himself away before you climb into his lap, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

“I think I atoned for my rule breaking quite well, don’t you, Officer Cameron?” You grin mischievously, pressing your nose against his.

Rafe only hums in response, he smiles at your antics and kisses you softly.

“I uh..I got a few things to take care of back at the station,” he mumbled.

“How about you go home and wait for me there, baby.”

You pout at this, while he exits the car with you still wrapped around him.

He sets you down once you reply, “Will you come home to me?” His expression softens.

He pecks all around your face, making it harder for you to keep up your sullen act.

“Of course, pretty girl,” Rafe whispers.

You cross your arms as he continues, “I’ll wrap up so quickly, babe. Then I can…” He trails off, before ducking down to your ear.

“Return the favor.” He nibbles at your ear, and you press your legs together.

“Mmm, okay. But hurry back..” You peer at him, fixing his wild hair strands. He kisses your wrist.

“Of course,” and with that, he firmly kisses your cheek before allowing you to step back into your car.

After you settle in—after he finished adjusting your seat back, you place your hands on the wheel and spare him a last glance.

“Can you do me a favor, baby?” He asks with a grin, but you can tell it’s far from sweet.

You hum, both in curiosity and excitement.

“Think you can hold onto these for me?” He places the item into your hand, and leans back to head to his car, but not without yet another kiss to your lips.

You lick your lips as you watch him walk back to his police cruiser.

You know he won’t leave until you do, so you eventually pull off.

The set of shining, silver handcuffs resting next to you, and an ever growing heat between your legs.

[starkeysbunny]

fashion killa

cause she a fashion killa, and i’m a trendy ….

pairing - drew x model!baddie!gf!reader

summary - when drew heads to coachella for the first time with his girl, who’d been many times due to her job. the it couple known for their fashion sense, dancing in tune to songs at the festival rials up both them, and the crowd.

warnings - sexual tension :p

⠀.ᐧ.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ೃ❀࿔˙ ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ೃ❀ᮬ࿔˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ೃ❀࿔˙ ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ೃ❀ᮬ࿔˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ॱ

the sun was beating down harshly, gusts of wind blowing dust all around. i felt drew’s arm pull me closer under his grasp. his strong bicep, wrapped around my shoulders.

“baby, ‘should pull the bandana up.” he says gently, his fingers reaching around by my neck to fiddle with the bandana wrapped around it.

“it’s too hot. i’ll get sweaty.” i mumble.

he sighs, his hand coming up to run through his hair. “but dust is gonna get all in your-“

“not happening.” i smile softly, turning my head to look up at him.

he chuckles, his hands lifting in mock surrender, his arm stays wrapped around my shoulder though. “alright, alright. i’ll stop.”

drew and i were at coachella. he’d never been before, and i go nearly every year. after the first two times, it wasn’t because i wanted to go anymore. it was because brands would hire me to go just so they could design my outfits for the three day festival in the palm springs dessert heat.

so naturally, drew and i being together for the past eight months, it was his turn to be dragged along to this event.

“i don’t get the hype. i mean, yeah, it’s fun, whatever. but like, why pay all this money to be severely dehydrated and covered in dust for three days?” he had told me earlier while we were ironically enough, in the encapsulated and air conditioned vip tent.

we were currently watching doja cat’s set. we stood in the vip section near the front, which was to the left side of the stage by the regular ga pit.

i was wearing a low rise denim skirt that barely held in my ass, a vintage chanel crop, paired with givenchy boots and my layers of gold jewelry. bangles on my wrists, a necklace, hoops, and many, many rings.

while drew, of course, wore his carhart brown work pants, and a loewe white tee, with a blue bandana wrapped around his head.

doja cat was currently playing, starting her song agora hills. i turn slightly to reach into my shoulder bag—which was on drew’s shoulder because why would i carry it when i had him? i grab a piece of gum, sticking it between my glossed lips.

i look up at drew to see him already grinning down at me. the slight scruff growing around his jaw and the mullet peeking out behind his neck making my stomach flutter. “want a piece?” i ask sweetly.

he shakes his head. “nah, thank you though, baby.”

i close up my purse and pat it gently as it rests comfortably, secure in drew’s bicep.

i turn back to face the stage, drew’s arm now fully wrapped around my chest, his hand grasping onto the opposite shoulder as he holds me close against his chest. i sway against him, my hips moving as i watch the performance. i chuckle when i hear a certain part of the song that i knew.

i look up at drew from my spot against his chest, a smug smile on my lips.

“rub it in their face,” i begin reciting the lyrics, my hand lightly tapping against his chest at each accent in the lyrics. “put a rock on her hand.” i raise my eyebrows, wiggling my left hand in his face teasingly.

he smirks, a small snicker escaping his lips. i turn back to the stage and i feel him lean down slightly, his lips snaking against my ear. “don’t worry, baby.” he whispers. “one day you’ll be walking down the runway with a rock on your hand. my little wifey.” he teases, gently biting down on my ear playfully.

i smile, feeling his arm pull me tighter into his chest. my manicured nails come up to hold onto his forearm against me. my eyes drift over to the ga side of the crowd, and see a huge majority of the audience’s phones no longer on doja—but pointed and zoomed in on drew and i’s interaction.

ever since drew and i started dating, the speculations and whispers were circling like wildfire. the it girl model with the new up and coming actor. who wouldn’t talk about it? but we had hoped to keep it private the first couple months—just us, no outside thoughts.

and we did, not officially confirming anything until about our fourth month in. even then, we didn’t actually confirm. our relationship is private, but not a secret. we don’t really post each other, maybe once or twice. but, drew and i couldn’t give two shits about any of it. we knew we were real, and that’s all that mattered.

“oh, they’re gonna eat that shit up, babe.” drew chuckles lowly, catching the same thing i saw.

i shrug. “let them. if all those girls that obsess over you think we’re married, maybe they’ll back off.” i joke with a smirk.

he scoffs. “you think those are your biggest problems? what about all the guys that have a subscription to vogue and cosmopolitan just to see you? i swear walkin’ in to this damn festival, why’d you think my hand was on your ass tryna hold down this little skirt, huh?”

i shake my head with a chuckle, smacking his chest playfully. “you love this skirt.” i turn slightly in his arms, my glossy lips pouting up at him.

he snuggly grins, his hands reaching around and squeezing my ass in the skirt, lifting me slightly with it to bring me closer to his lips. “hell yeah, i do, baby.”

-

it was now ten at night, the air simmering down to a much cooler temperature. drew and i were making our way back to the main stage for the headliner, asap rocky.

we were walking in tune, in the space between the barricade and the stage, security guiding us and trailing us. drew’s arm was lazily draped around my shoulders, my left hand holding his by neck. my bracelet jangle as we walk, my hips swaying in my skirt that had somehow gotten lower as the day went on. i think it was because drew kept pulling is down every chance he got…

my bandana was now wrapped around my head. as we were many drinks in at this point, earlier we were in the vip tent and i was slurring, all over drew as i rambled about how i wanted to match with him, so he helped me and tied my bandana around my head like his.

the crowd scrambled loudly when they noticed us walking by the barricade, screaming, clamoring, flashes from cameras. i grin, when i feel drew instinctively pull me closer into his side, my scantily clad body pulled tight into his warm frame.

“y/n! drew! oh my god!”

“y/n, give me a chance!”

“drew! drew! i love you!”

“you’re so hot, y/n!”

“marry me!”

i giggle under my breath and look up at drew, seeing him roll his eyes subtly at their comments. we finally make it over to the vip section. it was much more crowded now, and drew situated us so i was standing in front of him, pulled flush against his chest so i could watch the show and he could keep an eye on everything.

i hardly needed security when i had drew.

we waited patiently, quietly talking as we waited for the show to start

then, the lights went down, strobe lights flashing as the intro of fashion killa started.

i grin, turning in drew’s arms to face him. “it’s our song!”

he smiles. “it is,” he chuckles lowly.

my arms lace around his neck, his hands finding their home on my hips. i move to the music, a grin on my lips as i move my hips.

“cause she a fashion killa..” i giggle, my head plopping into drew’s chest.

“and i’m a trendy..” he trails off, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

the song continues and i look up at him, my gold jewelry blinging in the lights. he smirks with a chuckle, singing along to the lyrics.

“my bitch a fashion killa, she be..” his hand comes to my ass, tapping it at each beat. “busy,” .. tap. “poppin,” .. tap. “tags.” .. tap.

“she got a lotta prada,” he grabs my hands, extending his arms as he swings me out, then pulls me back in close to him. “that dolce and gabbana,” he chuckles as he bops his head.

i giggle, burying my head in the crook of his neck. he grabs my arms again, his hands sliding up from my forearms to my wrists as he lifts them above my head. “wearin’ all the cartier frames..” he chuckles as he sings with asap.

we continue to dance and i turn around for a part of the song, my back against drew’s chest. i reach into my purse on drew’s shoulder, pulling out my camcorder. i record part of asap singing the song before drew snatches the camera from my hands, making me turn around.

he starts to film me to the song and i chuckle, my hands sliding down my waist to my hips, rolling them, my jewelry dancing with my movements. he groans, throwing his head back. he stops the recording and stuffs the camera back in my bag, his hands quickly coming to my hips and pulling me back into him.

“fuck, baby…” he says under his breath. his hands come up to my cheeks, holding my face close to his. “baby, you and me…” he sings.

“me and you.” i finish with a grin, he wraps his arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug against his chest.

the song continued, drew and i playfully dancing around, singing, hands all over each other. the night went on, drew taking videos of me on the camcorder, me stealing it back taking videos of him. my ass against his front as he rolled my hips against him, drinks making us a bit bolder in public.

almost everyone in the regular ga, somewhere throughout the set, lost their attention off asap, us captivating their gaze instead.

there would be millions of videos online tomorrow of us—but we didn’t care anymore. it wasn’t a secret. it was just private. just us.

-

what i imagine the camcorder looks like at the end of the night… 😝

[harrysfolklore]

oscar piastri being obsessed with his girlfriend: a compilation

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON | oscar smau

Oscar Piastri was known as the introvert and reserved driver on the grid.

While other drivers basked in the spotlight and didn't shy away from sharing details about their personal life, Oscar often preferred to keep his privacy.

However, when it came to his girlfriend, it was a different story altogether.

Oscar was what people called "a total simp" when it came to his girlfriend, always bringing her up in interviews, promo videos and casual conversations, and fans couldn't miss the opportunity to make several compilation videos and tiktoks about it.

The most popular one was called "Oscar Piastri being obsessed with his girlfriend: a compilation" and the 15-minute long video was filled with moments that made fans both awe and laugh.

It started with the clip of the first time he publicly talked about her during a podcast interview, rumors about him not being single were spreading around but nothing was confirmed.

"I do have a girlfriend, yeah," Oscar said, a small smile playing on his face.

"You're not very public, aren't you?" the interviewer asked.

“We keep it to ourselves and try to be out of the spotlight and just live normal lives,” he replied, “We have been dating for over four years now, she has been there for me since the start of my career and I couldn't imagine my life without her. She's my biggest supporter and keeps me grounded.”

The next video showed Oscar and Lando sitting next to each other wearing their McLaren shirts, filming a game called "Green flag or Red flag."

"Picky eaters," the interviewer asked and Lando immediately waved the green flag.

"He's a very picky eater that's why," Oscar said, making Lando laugh, "But, what if they eat fish, cause you hate fish."

Lando dramatically raised the red flag, making everybody laugh again.

"You wouldn't date a pescatarian then," the interviewer said.

"No," Lando shook his head, "They shouldn't be here."

"My girlfriend's a pescatarian, actually," Oscar said, looking at his teammate with a raised eyebrow, "I'll pass that on to her.”

"Noooo mate!" Lando immediately shook his head, waving his hands in mock horror, "Don't tell her I said that, I don't want to be in trouble with your missus! She's a lovely girl."

"She is indeed, but I don't think she'll like you very much after this."

The next segment was from his "Day in the Life" video with Quad Lock, where Oscar gave fans a glimpse into his daily routine. In one particular clip, he was in the kitchen making breakfast.

"So, this is where the magic happens," Oscar said with a cheeky grin as he poured pancake batter onto a hot griddle, "My girlfriend loves pancakes, so I make them every Sunday. It's become sort of a tradition for us."

The camera then panned to a candid shot of his girlfriend, who was sitting at the kitchen island, sipping coffee and smiling fondly at Oscar. She blew him a kiss, which Oscar caught with a playful wink.

"There she is, sitting pretty while I play housewife."

The next clip in the compilation was from a press conference, where a journalist asked him how he manages to stay focused with such a demanding schedule.

"Having a supportive partner really helps," Oscar said earnestly, "She understands the pressures and the demands of the job. She’s my rock and makes everything a lot easier."

"Does it get hard for her when your schedule is too busy for your relationship?"

"My schedule is never too busy for my girlfriend, I always make sure to make time for her. That's why we've been going strong for four years now."

Another McLaren game with Lando was included, this time they were playing Finish the Lyric with Taylor Swift songs.

"Do you feel confident about this game, Oscar?" Lando asked his teammate.

"I do, actually," Oscar nodded confidently, "My girlfriend is a huge Taylor Swift fan so I know a lot of her songs."

"We should get your girl to come and play then," Lando teased.

"She'd probably beat us both, hands down. But I'm not giving up just yet." Oscar chuckled, shaking his head.

The compilation video then transitioned to a moment in the McLaren garage before the first quali of the Hungary Grand Prix. Oscar was off to the side, chatting with his girlfriend, who had joined him for the event.

They seemed to be in their own little bubble, Oscar's attention completely focused on her and his smile wide as he listened to her talk. The camera captured a sweet moment where he gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead. It was a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes about their relationship and fans absolutely melted at the interaction.

The next clip showed Oscar at a fan event in Australia, hundreds of fans gathered to meet the drivers and see them up close, Oscar was answering questions from the interviewers when he suddenly addressed one of the fans in the front row.

"I've got a girlfriend, thank you," he said into the microphone, making everyone laugh but look confused at the same time, "For everyone wondering, she just asked what my number was," the crowd laughed again even louder, "But I'm a happily taken man. You're nice but I'm not interested."

In that same event, he got asked what did he miss the most from the UK when he was back in Australia.

"My girlfriend," he immediately said, "Other than that the food is better here, the weather is better here. So my girlfriend, that's it."

The following video was also a fan interaction, this time it was a fan recorded video while he was signing stuff for those waiting for him as he arrived to the paddock for the Austin Grand Prix.

Oscar was signing autographs and taking pictures, when a fan handed him a photo of him and his girlfriend from a race weekend.

"Oh, this is a great picture," Oscar said, grinning as he looked at the photo. "This was taken at Silverstone, right? It was her first time at a race with me. She loved it."

"What's her favorite part about the races?" The fan smiled and asked.

"Probably the adrenaline and seeing me in action," Oscar chuckled, "But she also loves hanging out in the paddock. She gets along really well with everyone here."

The next clip showcased Oscar during a Twitch stream, where he was playing a racing simulator. His girlfriend walked into the room, and the chat exploded with excitement.

"Hey, love," Oscar greeted her, pausing the game.

"Am I interrupting you?" she softly asked.

"Nope, come here," he encouraged to come closer, "Everyone, this is my girlfriend," she waved at the camera, and Oscar wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into the frame. "She's the reason I'm still sane," he joked, earning a kiss on the cheek from her.

The video included one of everyone's favorite interactions between the couple, captured by McLaren's instagram team.

Oscar had just finished a quiali, earning a P2 position, the camera caught as he reunited with his girlfriend who threw her arms around his neck as soon as she saw him.

"Hiii," he shyly said, a hint of a blush on his cheeks.

"You did such a great job, baby," she said, still wrapped around his arms, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"I couldn’t have done it without you cheering me on," he replied, his voice soft and genuine.

The final clip was from the FIA Prize Giving ceremony, Oscar stood on the stage, dressed in a sharp suit, the Rookie of the Year trophy shining in his hands.

"First of all, I want to thank my team, McLaren, for believing in me and giving me the opportunity," Oscar began, his voice steady but emotional, "But most importantly, I want to thank my girlfriend. She's been my rock through it all, supporting me every step of the way. This award is as much hers as it is mine."

The camera panned to his girlfriend, sitting in the audience with tears in her eyes, smiling proudly. The fans watching the livestream couldn't help but gush over the touching moment.

As the compilation ended, the screen faded to black with the text, "Oscar Piastri: The Ultimate Simp, and Proud of It."

[jupiterpilgrim]

Embracing the Mission

Christmas Special 🎄

Julie x Natty x Belle x Male Reader

word count 14K

A/n: last fic of the Christmas Special

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

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

You freeze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And we need your help!”

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

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

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

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

“What the hell—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You stare. They stare back.

“…Elves,” you repeat.

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

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

“Maternity leave?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Whoa, what are you—”

“Feel my ear!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait, do elves also watch YouTube?”

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

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

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

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

Belle snickers. “Or we’ll make you.”

—

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

Three elves. Pregnant. By you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want to see the kids.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright. We’ll allow it.”

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

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

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

Belle beams. “It’s sweet!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And she’s not wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure,” Natty says with a wink.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Belle nods quickly. “Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Natty winks. “Takes one to know one.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her words are your undoing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

But… the bed feels empty.

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

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

It’s not impossible.

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

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

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

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

They’re there.

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

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

And Belle? She’s exactly where you’d expect her to be: sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by crumbs, shoving another bite of toast into her mouth. She is wearing one of your shirts. It's massive on her, but she looks so cute and cozy. Her blonde hair is a fluffy cloud of curls, falling haphazardly around her face. It's the most adorable thing ever.

They all turn to you at once, as if on cue.

“Morning, big guy,” Julie says casually, holding up a framed picture of you and your old dog. “You know this was crooked, right?”

“Good morning!” Natty chimes, flashing you a bright smile before flipping another pancake. “I hope you like breakfast. We kind of raided your kitchen.”

Belle waves with her toast, her cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk. “Mmrphning,” she mumbles, crumbs tumbling onto the table.

You just stand there, staring at them, your brain short-circuiting. “You’re… real,” you say finally.

Julie smirks, setting the frame back on the wall. “Of course we’re real. What, you think you hallucinated all that?”

“I wouldn’t blame him,” Natty quips, her tone playful. “Last night was pretty intense. Honestly, I’m impressed he’s still standing.”

Belle swallows her mouthful of toast and grins. “You do look like you got hit by a reindeer or two.”

You blink, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “I… I thought I dreamed it. I woke up, and you weren’t—”

“—in your bed?” Julie finishes, arching an eyebrow. “Yeah, we figured you’d want to sleep in. You earned it.”

Natty plates a stack of pancakes and sets them on the table, her grin widening. “Plus, you looked so cute passed out like that. We didn’t want to wake you.”

Belle grabs a pancake with her bare hands, ignoring the fork sitting right in front of her. “So, are you gonna join us, or are you just gonna stand there gawking?”

You snap out of your daze, shuffling to the table and collapsing into a chair. “This is insane,” you mutter, running a hand through your hair. “You’re real. You’re actually real.”

“Yeah, we established that,” Julie says, sitting down across from you with a cup of coffee. “Now eat. Natty went all domestic goddess for you.”

Natty grins, sliding into the seat next to you and piling your plate high with pancakes. “Don’t get used to it,” she teases. “Breakfast is the only thing I know how to make.”

Belle smirks, her mouth full again. “She’s not kidding. I saw her almost burn water once.”

Natty glares at her, but there’s no real heat behind it. “You’re one to talk, Miss ‘I Eat Cereal with a Fork.’”

You chuckle despite yourself, cutting into your pancakes. “So, this is my life now, huh? Three elves living in my house, eating my food, rearranging my furniture.”

Julie shrugs, sipping her coffee. “Pretty much. We’re pregnant with your babies, remember? You’re stuck with us now.”

Natty leans in, resting her chin on her hand. “Admit it. You love it.”

You glance around the table at the three of them—the sly smirk on Julie’s lips, the playful sparkle in Natty’s eyes, Belle’s adorable, crumb-covered grin—and you can’t help but smile.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “I really do.”

The pancakes are incredible, fluffy and sweet, though the company is sweeter. You shovel another bite into your mouth, glancing between the three of them as they eat—or, in Belle’s case, inhale—at the table. It feels surreal, the warmth of their presence filling the space that, until now, had always felt too empty.

But then Julie sets her coffee down with a soft clink and fixes you with a look that’s somewhere between regretful and serious. “Look, we need to talk,” she says. "There's something you need to know.”

Your stomach flips. “That sounds ominous.”

Natty smirks, nudging your thigh under the table. “Relax. We’re not breaking up with you or anything.”

Belle, mid-bite, chimes in with her mouth full. “We’re pregnant, remember? Well, probably pregnant. Anyway, you're our man now.”

You laugh nervously, but Julie doesn’t budge, her tone calm but firm. “It’s about what happens next. The logistics.”

“Logistics?” you echo, frowning. “What logistics? I thought we just… lived happily ever after or something.”

Julie snorts, crossing her arms. “You think the magic world works like a rom-com? Cute. No, there’s rules. Bureaucracies. Red tape thicker than Santa’s thighs after cookie season.”

Belle raises a hand, still chewing. “Which is always, by the way.”

“Okay, back up,” you say, setting your fork down. “What rules? What are we talking about here?”

Natty sighs, leaning back in her chair. “It’s complicated. We’re technically under North Pole jurisdiction, which means we can’t just pack up and move here full-time. There’s laws against it. Something about maintaining magical secrecy or whatever.”

“Plus,” Julie adds, “having a half-human, half-elf baby is already bending the rules. Some of the North Pole council isn’t exactly thrilled about it.”

You blink. “Wait, what? The council knows?”

Belle grins, finally swallowing her mouthful. “Of course they do. They know everything. They’ve got this creepy snow globe that shows them all the important stuff. Like Santa’s version of the NSA. We're in trouble now, but it's for a good reason.”

“That’s terrifying,” you mutter.

“It’s efficient,” Julie counters.

“But what does that mean for us?” you ask, glancing between them. “Are you saying you’re just going to leave?”

Julie hesitates, glancing at Natty, who takes over. “We’re not leaving you. But we can’t stay full-time, either. For now, we’ll have to visit. Weekends, holidays, that kind of thing.”

“That’s… not what I was expecting.”

“Hey,” Natty says softly, reaching for your hand. “It’s not forever. Once the babies are born, we’ll have more leverage. Interracial babies in the magical world are rare, and they’re considered kind of… important.”

“Important how?”

Belle pipes up. “Well, they’re supposed to be, like, bridges between worlds or whatever. Diplomatic symbols of unity. It’s a whole thing.”

Julie rolls her eyes. “Which is ironic, considering how much the council hates dealing with them.”

Natty nods. “Yeah, but it works in our favor. They can’t exactly ignore us when the kids come along. We’ll push for a reassignment so we can all live together.”

“Reassignment?” you ask, feeling like you’re still two steps behind.

Julie leans forward, her tone all business. “Basically, we’d petition for you to come live at the North Pole. It’s rare, but it happens. Usually for special cases, like this one.”

“You’d really want me to come with you?” you ask, your voice soft.

Natty grins. “Duh. You think we’d go through all this just to ditch you?”

Belle nods vigorously. “We’re a package deal now. Besides, you’d love it at the North Pole. Endless hot cocoa, magical reindeer, zero commute time—it’s awesome.”

Julie smirks. “And cold as hell. Better invest in thermal underwear.”

You laugh despite yourself, the weight in your chest lifting slightly. “So, what happens until then?”

Natty squeezes your hand. “We’ll make it work. We’re not going anywhere, not really. And who knows? Maybe we’ll even get you on the Nice List permanently.”

Belle snickers. “That’s a stretch.”

Julie shoots her a look before turning back to you. “We’re serious, though. You said you wanted a family, handsome, well now you've got yourself a big one. You’re ours now, and we don’t take that lightly.”

The warmth in her voice is undeniable, and you find yourself smiling. “You’re mine too, you know.”

Natty grins, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “Damn right we are.”

Belle, already reaching for another pancake, grins around her fork. “Better get used to it, lover boy. Three elf girls are no joke.”

—

The pancakes are history, coffee mugs bone dry, and sunlight floods the kitchen, casting everything in this weirdly golden, almost-too-perfect glow. Julie, Natty, and Belle are still parked around the table, eyes pinned on you like you’re the main event.

Julie’s the first to break the silence, her voice calm but carrying that no-bullshit weight. “Alright,” she says. “There’s one more thing we gotta hash out.”

“More bureaucratic bullshit?” you ask, half-joking, half-dreading.

Natty leans into her palm, a sly grin tugging at her lips. “Nah, not this time. This one’s about you. What you want.”

Belle tilts her head, her blonde hair catching the light. “Yeah, like… this whole setup? It’s not exactly your typical ‘happily ever after.’ Magic babies, council breathing down our necks, all of us living together—it’s a lot. Like, a lot a lot.”

Julie leans forward, her eyes dead serious but with a softness underneath that makes you pay attention. “We need to know if you’re really in this. Like, all in. This isn’t some fling or a one-night thing that spiraled out of control. This is real. It’s us. It’s a family. Forever. And if you’re gonna bolt or start second-guessing once we start building this life, we need to know now. Because if you’re not solid… it’ll wreck us.”

The word “wreck” just sits there, heavy as hell, daring anyone to argue with it.

You take a moment, looking at each of them. Julie’s got that sharp, take-no-prisoners look softened by something way more raw. Natty’s smirking, sure, but there’s a flicker of doubt behind it. And Belle, sweet Belle, is practically radiating hope, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of the shirt.

“I’m in,” you say, no hesitation. “For all of it. The magic, the council, the chaos. But mostly, I’m in for you. For us. For this family we’re building. Whatever it takes.”

Belle’s lips part in surprise, and her eyes well up slightly. “You mean that?” she whispers.

You nod, reaching across the table to take her hand. “Of course I mean it. I’ve spent enough Christmases alone to know what I don’t want. And what I want is right here.”

Natty’s grin returns, bright and full of mischief. “You realize we’re not exactly the poster-perfect family, right? You’ve got a dirty-mouthed toy-maker, a bossy logistics queen, and a cookie-devouring disaster. Not to mention the kids we’re about to have? That’s a circus waiting to happen.”

You chuckle, glancing at Belle, who’s already looking at the fruit bowl in the corner of the kitchen. “It’s not normal, no. But normal’s overrated anyway.”

Julie’s lips twitch into a faint smile, and she tilts her head. “You’d really give up your life here for us? Your home, your routines, everything you know?”

You shrug, a warm smile spreading across your face. “Home isn’t a place. It’s people. And I don’t need routines—I need you. All of you. Even Belle eating me out of house and home.”

Belle laughs, her cheeks pink. “You’d miss me if I didn’t.”

Natty leans closer, her eyes glinting with amusement. “And the council? The North Pole? That’s a whole different world, you know. It’s not just hot chocolate and snowball fights. You sure you’re ready for that?”

You meet her gaze, unwavering. “I’m ready for anything, as long as it’s with you.”

Julie lets out a soft breath, her shoulders relaxing for the first time all morning. “Well, shit,” she mutters, a smile tugging at her lips. “I didn’t think you’d actually say yes.”

Natty snickers. “Guess we’re stuck with him now, huh?”

Belle squeezes your hand, her grin wide and genuine. “Good. I like being stuck with him.”

Julie rolls her eyes but smiles, reaching out to rest her hand over yours. “Then it’s settled. You’re ours, big guy. Welcome to the weirdest family you’ll ever know.”

You laugh, your chest warm, full, complete. “It’s a family,” you say softly. “And that’s all that matters.”

Natty leans back in her chair, her grin wide. “Weird or not, it’s ours. And I have a feeling we'll be very happy.”

Belle beams, looking at everyone at the table with a certain enthusiasm. “Same.”

Julie claps her hands. “Okay, enough of the sappy shit. Let’s toast to this insanity.” She grabs the pitcher of orange juice and starts pouring it into the mugs around the table.

Julie lifts her mug, her voice low but steady. “To family. The unconventional kind.”

Natty raises her cup, her grin wicked. “To the craziest family of the North Pole.”

Belle lifts her juice, her eyes sparkling with the sunlight and something more. “To us.”

Julie locks eyes with you, her voice calm but full of unshakable resolve. “To family. The kind that doesn’t play by the rules.”

You raise your cup with a laugh. “To family.”

And for the first time, it feels like the holidays aren’t just another lonely season—they’re the start of something real. Something yours. Something forever.

[sincerelyneo]

i wanna be yours | p.js

“secrets i have held in my heart are harder to hide than i thought”

💿now playing: i wanna be yours by arctic monkeys

❯ summary: Jisung has known for years that his best friend, Chenle’s, sister is his. So there’s no way he’s going to sit back and watch another man touch you—especially not now, when he’s already had a taste of you.

❯ pairings: jisung x fem!reader

❯ genre: smut, brother’s best friend

❯ words: 3.8k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, swearing, marking, possessiveness, unprotected sex (don’t do this), dirty talk, fingering, manhandling, jealousy, slightly toxic, praise, squirting, creampies, jisung has something to prove, arguing, older reader, jisung just being jealous and obsessive for almost 4k words

an: first post of 2025 and it’s an idea that i started writing on the bus lol. (also i’m a firm believer of the jisung is very possessive and clingy agenda)

Jisung could sit here and lie, say that the only reason he’s white-knuckling his fist right now is because he’s protective of you. He could lie and say that he’s just worried about the guy who’s currently got his arm around your waist because you’re his best friend’s sister. He could lie and say he’s just concerned—but he’s not.

He’s jealous.

So fucking jealous.

But he has no right to be. You’re Chenle’s older sister. You can handle yourself—you’ve told him that plenty of times, mocking him with that stupid fucking ‘Jisungie’ nickname you used to call him when you were all just kids.

And still, he watches the way you laugh at something the guy says, your head tilting back just enough to make his chest burn. He knows that laugh. He’s heard it a thousand times before, he loves it, but tonight, it feels different—feels wrong. Your laugh is not meant for this guy. It’s not meant for anyone else but him for that matter. 

Jisung knows he should look away before it becomes too obvious—obvious that he likes you, obvious that he's jealous, obvious that he can’t get you out of his head. But that’s hard to do when just ten minutes ago he had you pressed up against the wall of your childhood room—the same wall you share with Chenle—his cock pounding into you from behind without mercy, and you’d let him. Loved it.

How can he stay composed when that asshole has his hand on his girl’s—Chenle’s sister’s—waist? Jisung jolts as he hears his teeth grind together—fuck, was that his jaw clenching? Safe to say he’s passed subtlety. 

He sucks in a breath. This is Chenle’s birthday party, stop thinking about his sister you idiot. 

Actually, fuck that. 

Because why is that stranger’s hand moving up your thigh so easily? Why does your breath hitch when he leans in closer? Call him toxic; he doesn’t care. But Jisung wishes he hadn’t let you put your panties back on, so that asshole could see—no, feel—his cum dripping out of you as his hand traces your thigh right now.

He scoffs and nurses his drink. Keep calm, it’s Chenle’s birthday. 

Speak of the devil—almost on cue, Jisung feels his best friend slap him on the shoulders with a shout. He glances over his shoulder to see Chenle, clearly drunk, and while he usually hates dealing with his wild, inebriated antics, he appreciates that his best friend is oblivious to the way Jisung is currently eyeing his older sister tonight.

He settles into the empty seat next to Jisung with a grunt. “Y/N forgot my cake. One job that girl had,” Chenle shakes his head, guzzling down the last of his beer before grabbing another and cracking it open.

“She was probably preoccupied,” Jisung shrugs, trying to dismiss any thought of you from his mind. He doesn’t exactly know the right way to tell his friend that his sister was too busy being preoccupied on his cock, and that’s why she forgot his birthday cake. 

Chenle scoffs, “She’s always preoccupied. Look at her,” he gestures toward you. “I think I heard her with that guy earlier. Traumatizing.” He visibly shakes and squeezes his eyes shut.

“It wasn’t him,” Jisung growls.

Chenle swats his hand in the air, already halfway through that new beer bottle. “Yeah, yeah. Doesn’t matter who it was, still traumatizing.”

Jisung nods and purses his lips. But to him, it does matter because it was him. Him who made you pant so desperately, him who filled you so completely that your legs wobbled, and he had to hold you steady, his fingertips imprinted into your hips. Him who made you cum. Him. Always him. And right now, he wanted to make sure that it was only him. 

The sound of Chenle snoring in the seat next to him pulls Jisung from his thoughts and back to where he feels most at home—you. He swears he could find you in seconds; you’re like a magnet, an obsession in his mind. You’re all he can think about, all he’s ever been able to think about, and now that he’s had you, he’s never you letting go. Call him a maniac.

With Chenle undoubtedly crashed out, his eyes find you and the sight of you leaning in closer to that guy, lips almost touching, ignites a fire in him. He sees red—hot, undeniable crimson. Without a thought, he storms over. That’s not true, he’s been thinking about it for the past twenty minutes. 

“Y/N!” he calls out, but not to get your attention, to stop your lips connecting with that asshole, who Jisung is certain he’d be able to take in a fight. 

You turn, surprise flickering in those pretty eyes he loves, and that’s all it takes for Jisung to reach you. He steps between you and the guy, his chest heaving, anger palpable. Without giving you a moment to process, his rough hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you back to your childhood bedroom.

Your own wave of crimson flushes over your body as the pink walls come into view and the lock you’d begged your parents for during puberty clicks into place. Jisung had been in your room countless times as kids, when you dressed him and Chenle up like dolls or begged them to play board games. But now, knowing he had you in a pathetic, desperate moaning mess not long ago and gave you the best sex of your life in this very room, it feels different.

He feels different. 

Nostrils flared, fists clenched, and muscles taut. This was not the Jisungie you once made friendship bracelets with or taught to roller skate. No, this was just Jisung—grown up, exuding a raw, masculine energy that was both captivating and intimidating. Sexy even. Perhaps that’s why you got distracted when he came over early to set up for Chenle’s birthday.

You shouldn’t have gotten distracted, or indulged, no matter how hot he’d gotten over the summer. He was still, and always would be, your little brother’s best friend. 

Snap out of it, Y/N. 

“Jisung, what do you think you’re doing?” You snap at him and back to reality. 

His eyes narrow, drawn into a sharp expression that shouldn’t make your thighs weak, but it does. “What am I doing? What are you doing, Y/N?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about—”

“That guy, Y/N.” He spits your name, a low growl that tightens your chest, “You’ve lost your damn mind if you think I’m just going to stand by while you flirt with some guy.”

You scoff, unable to deny it. Yes, you had been flirting with that guy, but honestly, it was just a distraction to take your mind off the fact that you’d just let your brother’s childhood friend fuck you six ways to Sunday. 

“You’re being ridiculous," you retort, crossing your arms defiantly. “You have no right to act like this.”

His nostrils flare again, and he steps closer, invading your space. You instinctively take a step back—because this is how it happened last time, his stupid muscular body and obnoxious height inching towards you (minus the argument.)

"Ridiculous? You think it’s ridiculous that I care? That I don’t want to see you with someone like him?"

“Someone like him? You don’t know anything about him.”

Jisung tongues the inside of his cheek, inhaling sharply before muttering, “He had his hands all over you in the middle of a kitchen. Pretty sure that makes him an automatic asshole.”

You can feel your heart racing, but you refuse to back down. "You’re getting jealous over one guy after we—after a one-time thing, Jisung. It’s so childish!"

The moment that singular word leaves your mouth, you see a shift in his expression. His eyes darken, and there’s a flicker of something raw and primal lingering in his irises. Desire, maybe lust, but definitely determination.

Without a word, Jisung moves toward you in a blur of motion, his hand snapping out to grip your wrist, yanking you back before you even have time to react. You stumble, your back slamming against the door with a harsh thud. Thank God, there’s a party downstairs because you’re certain the impact was savage enough to be heard if not for the music.

Your breath hitches in your throat as he cages you in, his body pressing against yours, his chest rising and falling with the force of his breath. His hands bracket your face, fingers digging into the wood behind you, holding you there, trapped beneath his gaze, trapped beneath his body. 

"Childish, huh?" His voice drops an octave, and you can feel the heat, the anger, the hunger, radiating off him. "I’ll show you childish."

It’s a threat, a rise to your challenge, and said with an edge that makes your stomach flutter—against your will.

You meet his eyes, refusing to show any fear, though your heart races in your chest. “What, you think you can intimidate me?”

A corner of his mouth curls up in a half-smirk. "I know I can do a lot more than that."

Before you can respond, his face closes the distance between you, lips crashing against yours in a kiss that feels like a challenge—not the passion he offered earlier, just pure desperation and need. His hands grip the back of your neck, holding you in place as he deepens the kiss, his body pressing harder against yours like he can’t get close enough. 

You can’t tell if it’s anger or the desperate need to prove something that drives him, but the way his touch grows possessive leaves no room for argument. You don’t want to argue though, not when his other hand trails down your thigh, hiking up your dress, and one calloused finger slips beneath the black lace of your panties to find your swollen, aching clit.

You draw in a shallow breath, one that only fuels his cocky grin as he nuzzles into your neck, his warm breath skimming along the delicate curve of your nape before trailing to your ear. His finger continues to rub slow, so painfully slow, circles into your clit.

“Was I childish when I finger fucked you to orgasm with Chenle just next door? Was I childish when I pounded this pretty pussy into your pillows? Or was I childish when—”

“J-Jisungie,” you gasp, voice trembling with need, cutting him off. But who could blame you? The slow, deliberate motion of his fingers, paired with the weight of his words, had you aching for more—more of him, more of this, anything with friction. 

His blunt nails dig into the tender flesh of your thigh, possessive and unyielding, as his lips skim the sensitive spot where your neck meets your collarbone. A low growl rumbles in his chest, vibrating against your skin. 

“Don’t call me that,” he mutters, rough and low, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’m not a fucking kid.”

You let out a soft whimper of submission, your legs trembling as he edges them apart, giving himself better access to the spot you need him most—the spot he knows you need him most.

“Is that what this is about?” you manage to ask, though your voice is shaky, breathless.

He doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he nuzzles deeper into the curve of your neck, his warm breath ghosting over your skin. He doesn’t need to respond because his fingers do it for him, their pace quickening against your sensitive nerves.

You can’t believe this is happening—again. Chenle would kill you both if he found out, but the thought isn’t enough to stop you. Your hips buck instinctively, meeting the rhythm of his long, slender fingers as they work relentlessly to coax an orgasm out of you.

“Ji–We can’t do this,” you whisper, though the words come out weak, entirely unconvincing.

His lips pause against your neck, but his fingers don’t. If anything, they press harder, toying against your clit, drawing a choked moan from your lips as he hovers just close enough for you to feel his breath.

“Oh, so we can’t do this,” there’s venom in his voice, as his finger sinks lower until it’s circling your entrance, “but you were ready to let that asshole do this to you in the kitchen.”

Your breath catches in your throat, a mix of shame and defiance flaring within you. “It’s not the same.”

“Exactly,” he growls, his fingers curling inside you in a way that makes your knees buckle. “It’s not the same, because he’ll never touch you the way I do. He’ll never make you feel the way I do, never get the fucking chance.”

“Jisung—” you start, but he cuts you off, his free hand gripping your jaw, forcing your gaze to meet his. His eyes are dark, intense, and filled with something lust. 

“Tell me to stop,” he challenges, lips brushing dangerously close to yours. He doesn’t kiss you, but nips at the bottom of your plush lip. “Tell me you don’t want this, Y/N, and I’ll stop.”

You try to form the words, to muster any resistance, but they melt into a moan as his fingers press against that spot deep inside you, leaving your legs trembling. It’s almost sick, really—how well he knows your body, as if he’s memorized every reaction, every weak spot. Like he’s studied the blueprint of you, mastered it, and has no intention of ever letting anyone else have access to it.

“That’s what I thought,” he mutters, his smirk sharp and sinister. His lips finally crash against yours, stealing what little resolve you had left.

His kiss is hungry, consuming, as if he’s trying to prove a point with every press of his mouth, clash of teeth, and every curl of his fingers. And the worst part is, he’s right—you do want this. You want him.

“Say it,” he demands against your lips. “Say you want me.”

Your hands clutch desperately at his shoulders, body arching into him as his touch overwhelms you. The fight leaves you entirely, your resistance crumbling to dust. “I want you,” you confess, the words spilling from your lips before you can even think to stop them.

He grins against your mouth. “Good, because you’re mine.”

And he’s going to make damn sure you know it. He’s going to make sure everyone knows it—especially that fucking asshole who touched you. You’re his. 

Jisung finds the length of your neck again, his skilled fingers continuing their work on your pussy. He knows you’re close, knows exactly how to draw this out of you until you’re cumming, all while he’s branding your skin with purple bruises across your neck. Call it an ego thing, but knowing some part of him will be etched onto your skin has his cock throbbing, his bulge swelling in his jeans just from the thought of you belonging to him—even if it’s only temporary. Jisung doesn’t care. He’ll keep doing this until it’s permanent, until your mind finally catches up, and you realize you belong to him, just as much as he belongs to you.

“For someone who was so insistent that we can’t do this, you have no problem making a mess on my fingers, noona,” he coos, his whispers brushing against your skin. “I can hear how wet you are, all for me, yeah?”

He’s a cocky fucker, and he knows it.

“Ji—please,” you whine, your body moving in sync with his, desperate to push yourself over the edge. Jisung laughs, the vibration of it shooting through you straight to your core. His fingertips dig into your pelvis, halting your movements because he’s the one in control. He’s the one with something to prove.

“You wanna cum, noona?” he asks, almost mockingly. “Want me to make you cum?”

You nod eagerly, desperation etched across your features. Yes, you want it—no orgasm could ever compare to the one you know he can give you.

Jisung pulls away from your neck, his pupils blown wide as he admires the art painted across your skin—his mark. He’s never been one for art, never understood what people meant by seeing a message in a painting, but as his fingers trace the deep red imprints of his mouth, he understands exactly what this piece of skin says: mine.

His fingers plunge deeper inside your cunt, the steady rhythm driving you wild. He curls them just right, his touch grazing that rough patch inside you that makes you gasp, your breath catching and lips parting. 

He smirks, his eyes never leaving yours as he mouths words of praise and instructions. At least, you think he’s mouthing them—your mind is fogged, overwhelmed by the wave of pleasure crashing over you, the only sound you can focus on is the buzzing of your orgasm, your cries and the way his name spills from your lips in a frantic, desperate whisper.

"Such a good fucking girl," he murmurs when your high starts to fade, voice low with approval. "My good fucking girl."

Maybe it’s the post-climax haze, your mind still swimming in fog, but your arms find their way around Jisung’s neck, pulling him down to crash your lips against his. He’s caught off guard, just as much as you are—you're not one to initiate, and he hadn’t expected more. He’d already made his point clear: he knows your body, he knows how to make you feel good, how to make you cum.

But here you are, nipping at his lip, devouring his mouth with a hunger that catches you both by suprise. And when you whisper a soft, "Fuck me again, please, Jisung," he's done for.

"My girl is so impatient and greedy, huh?" He tsks, but it's more to regain his composure than anything. He’d almost cum in his pants at the sight of you begging him to fuck you, like some horny teenager. But his determination to prove he’s not the boy you grew up with keeps him grounded.

He hoists you up effortlessly, his hands gripping the underside of your ass as your legs instinctively wrap around his body. With ease, he carries you to the bed, dropping you onto it with a predatory gleam in his eyes. As he climbs over you, his gaze darkens with hunger, every movement clear, saying one thing: he's going to devour you.

"Such a dirty girl, letting your brother’s friend fuck you twice in one night," he teases, his hands slowly working to peel the dress from your body. When he sees you’ve been wearing no bra underneath, your nipples fully exposed and standing at attention instantly, a low curse slips from his lips. 

He could admire your body for hours—he hadn’t had the chance to earlier because the stakes felt higher then. But for you, the moment is urgent. You need him—all of him—inside you, now. Maybe that’s why you decide to taunt him.

“I can always get someone else to do it if you don’t want to.”

“Watch it,” he warns, as his grip tightens on you. His eyes darken with possessiveness, a wave of jealousy flickering in his eyes. The thought of someone else touching you like this, even as a joke, triggers something primal inside him.

Without another word, Jisung sheds his own clothes, hands moving to your thighs, spreading them apart with a firm, controlled movement. His breath hitches as he stares down at you, so fucking beautiful, so fucking perfect, so fucking his.

“Made to take my cock,” he mutters, giving you a moment to adjust. You nod softly, the sensation of him filling every part of you dulling every lingering ache. 

He circles the head of his cock at your entrance, teasing you as payback for that little comment, before slowly sinking into you, inch by inch. Your eyes roll back at the delicious stretch, your body yielding to him as he fits into you so perfectly. So big, so deep, so yours.

It isn’t until he’s buried deep inside you, balls against your skin, that a groan escapes both of you.

He doesn't hold back, his groans raw and needy. He wants you to hear him—hear how good you make him feel, how desperate he's been for you, for this, how much he’s craved you for years. Every sound, every groan, he wants it etched in your memory. He wants you to remember him when you think about any other man—your first boyfriend, or the guy who took you to prom, and especially the flings you had on spring break.

He wants to be the only man who makes you come apart. The only one you grip with those pretty nails, scraping his back as if marking him, your own little claim to match his purple marks. 

Jisung has always had a soft spot for you, but the way he fucks is anything but soft. This is desperate, driven, a reminder that only he can make you feel this way—only he will. His thrusts are hard, dominating, consuming, each one a claim, marking you as his in the most primal way and you love it.

He knows you love it—the way your pussy clenches around him, fluttering rhythmically, milking his own orgasm from him with every squeeze. Sloppy, deep, and abrupt, his resolve twists tighter inside his stomach. His grip on your hips tightens and he drives into you with relentless, unyielding force, chasing his high. 

He leans down, his breath hot against your ear. “My pretty girl,” he growls. “Only mine.”

You can barely respond, the pleasure building so intensely that all you can do is cling to him, your fingernails digging into his pale skin, feeling every part of him take control. Each thrust pushes you closer to an edge you’ve never felt before, your stomach coiling tightly, a delicious tension threatening to snap.

“Say it,” he demands, his voice low and filled with heat, his pace never slowing. “Say you’re mine.”

Your breath hitches, body trembling as the tension in your core reaches its peak. “Yours,” you whisper, but it’s enough to make him groan in satisfaction.

Suddenly, the world around you blurs as the pleasure overwhelms you. Your body responds, the waves crashing over you as your eyes roll. A choked cry escapes, and a rush of wetness unlike anything you’ve felt before floods your body. 

Your hands fly to your face in embarrassment, but Jisung doesn’t let you hide. He watches you, eyes dark,  filled with awe and pride, as he takes in the fact that he’s the one who’s just made you squirt.

“How’s that for childish?” he murmurs with a smirk, the words dripping with possessiveness.

And with one final thrust, he drives into you, his body shuddering as he reaches his own release, spilling inside of you.

“Oh, and by the way,” he murmurs breathlessly, lips brushing against your ear, “there’s no way this is just a one-time thing, Y/N.”

[chaussetteblanche]

and they were roommates pt. 3

pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!student!roommate!reader summary : life on campus with a killer on the loose, the FBI makes an arrest word count : 2k warning : canon-typical violence, swear words (one use of the f-word) A/N : thank you so so much for all the love on this story !!! I'm so glad you all enjoy it <333 I'll probably do a part 4, it may be the last part, idk yet :)

part 1, part 2, part 4

"Spencer, I realise your concern, but lots of women look somewhat like this." It wasn't lost on Spencer what Hotch was trying to do by calling by his first name. "Hotch, she- she could be right next to them. She fits his type right down to the colour of her eyes!" "Spencer, man, you need to think rationally." Derek placed a hand on Spencer's shoulder. "Lots of women have that hair colour and length, it's in style right now, right Emily?" "Yeah, definitely." "Look, I just- I need to make a call."

When Spencer had called you sometime in the evening, you'd been expecting him to tell you he was going to come home late and to not wait up for him. What you weren't expecting was for his voice to be the most serious and stern you'd ever heard it. "Don't go outside until I come home, okay?" He knew it was entirely irrational. The unsub only took women in broad daylight, you weren't facing any more risks than usual. But he couldn't take a chance. Not with this. Not with you. "What? Why?" "Just- I'll explain everything when I come home, I'll be there in a couple hours, but please, don't leave the apartment. And make sure everything is locked." "Spencer, what's going on?" "Can you just-" He paused, forcing himself to remain calm. "Look, do as I say, please. I'll explain everything later, I promise." You hesitated for a moment. Luckily for you, you weren't working at the bar tonight. Luckily for Spencer, you liked him enough to indulge him. "Okay." "Thank you."

"Oh my God, no, absolutely not!" "Y/N, it's for your safety, don't you understand that?!" "My safety? What about my life?"

This was the first real fight you'd ever had. You'd had disagreements, of course, he didn't like you leaving your empty cups and glasses all over the place. You told him off for waking you in the morning by making too much noise. Sometimes you'd get jealous if Geoffrey slept in Spencer's bed rather than yours. Yes, you'd had your fair share of arguments, but none quite like this.

"I'm not asking you to give up your life, you're being totally-" You scoffed loudly, interrupting him. "Spencer, you might as well! Do you realise what you're suggesting I do? You want me to give up on going outside, not go to any of my classes, not see any of my friends, not go to work, don't you see what bullshit that is? It's putting a cross on my social life, my education and my work!" You gesticulated angrily as you speak, feeling heat rising to your face. "I already told you, it's for your own safety." He sighed loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. He wasn't even looking at you. A tiny, tiny piece of you wanted to slap him. "I will not stop living my life because some psycho thinks it's fun to kill innocent girls! I won't!" You crossed your arms over your chest and resisted the urge to stomp your foot.

"You're being incredibly childish right now." You hated how he managed to stay calm. You wanted him to get just as angry as you were, livid even. It wasn't fair that you were the only one getting upset. "Are you making all the girls who look like me give up everything for the sake of their safety?" Your tone was mocking and mean but you didn't have it in you to care at the moment. He met your eyes at last, lips turned downwards into a frown. Finally, some sort of emotion. "Don't do that, Y/N," he warned in a low voice. "No, I think it's a valid question. Is your boss making an announcement to the press that all the girls in Mary Washington University who look like the three last girls should stay inside? Is he?" you pushed. Spencer looked away from you again, shaking his head in disbelief at your attitude. "No, he isn't."

"Then why do you expect me to do that?!" You threw your hands in the air, beyond frustrated. For a logical person, Spencer's behaviour wasn't making any sense at the moment. "I don't expect you to do it. I want you to do it, I need you to do it." You could feel his calm facade breaking, piece by piece. "Why, Spencer, fucking why?!" "Because!" He finally exploded, jumping to his feet and slapping his palms onto the table. You didn't jump. "Because it's you, Y/N! I can't work this case if I know you're in danger every single day! If I know yours could be the next dead body students ogle at on the university's front lawn! If I know it's your picture they're going to hang up next to the other victims! I just can't do it!"

Oh.

You let yourself fall down on the couch, running your hands over your face. You were both stepping into uncharted territory. You'd tip-toed this line before but had never crossed it yet. And this was not the way to do it. You were not going to cross the border from friendship into something more by screaming at each other. Spencer seemed to read your silence as distress.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell." He softly trudged over to the couch and sat down next to you. "No, it's okay, I- I kind of wanted you to. I'm sorry for getting so upset." You take his hand in your lap and intertwine your fingers. "I understand, I'm asking too much of you, it's selfish." He gives your hand a squeeze. "I just can't stand the thought of anything happening to you." You sit in silence for a little while, processing.

"I just can't hide while I wait for other girls to be killed, Spencer, it wouldn't be fair." Sometimes, Spencer hated how good of a person you were. If your morals and personal ethics were some of the things he liked about you the most, he couldn't help but curse them in this moment. "I don't care about fair," he mumbled, hating how puerile he sounded. You cooed and laid your head on his shoulder. "I know, I'm sorry."

"I won't promise you anything, but I'll try to always be with someone around campus. I'm usually with my friends anyway. And I can share my location with you all the time if that's reassuring for you." "I'd like that, thank you. And... what about when you're at work?" "I can ask Paul to walk me to my car." Paul was the manager at the bar you worked at, Quantequila. His past was a mysterious blend of prison, MMA fighting and crochet clubs. He liked you plenty and you knew he wouldn't mind walking you to your car for a while. "Thank you."

Over the next week, you did just that. Many students started moving in groups and avoiding being alone at all costs after the FBI released the profile and the pictures of the last victims.

"We're looking for a local white man, early twenties. He may have moved here a year ago, we figure he's either in his first year of BA or MA. This is someone you don't notice, he's shy and introverted, he doesn't participate in class and he won't talk to people if he can help it, especially not women. This man is a loner and does his best to be invisible. We think he stalks his victims for a while before attacking them, so if you start seeing someone you've never seen before in strange places, please notify us. My name is Aaron Hotchner and you'll find the hotline on the screen you're watching this on."

You always had at least two friends with you whenever you were roaming about on campus. Though no one really spoke about the situation, the energy had changed. People were becoming tense and suspicious. Friends were fighting over who should accompany who, when and where. A place which had once gathered so many motivated and joyous students now had those very people looking over their shoulder.

You hated it.

Truly, you didn't want to underestimate this killer, but you were getting tired of it all. You'd wish the BAU would just catch him, but, as Spencer had explained to you multiple times, they had incredibly little to go on. What you knew without him telling you was that they needed another victim to predict his next move. Still, you were a person who appreciated alone time and you had gotten none in the last 10 days. So, when two of your friends who were supposed to walk with you from your class to the subway bailed on you, you weren't that upset.

You put your headphones on, listening to your favourite song of the moment and started walking. You had a tendency of getting lost in your thoughts and didn't notice the sound of heavy footsteps following your own over your music. What you did notice though, was the reflection of someone walking close behind you in a cafe window. You looked over your shoulder, frowning. The sun was in your eyes, blocking your vision, but you managed to perceive an average-sized man with long-ish black hair which hung around his face in greasy strands. Not thinking too much of it, you continued on your way.

You didn't think too much of it when you saw him sitting a few tables away from you when you were studying one afternoon at the library. You were captivated by the Middle English poem under your eyes, wondering what the author had meant with the particular use of the kenning "earth-cave". When you looked up and caught his eyes, cold and unnerving, you didn't overthink it. There were some weird people on campus. Who were you to judge?

When you saw him at your grocery store, though, that was when you started worrying. You were picking up a box of After-Eights for Spencer when you saw him looking at oatmeal raisin biscuits. What really tipped you off was that no one really liked those, so he must have been pretending to look occupied. A chill ran down your spine as all the other places you'd spotted him came back to you. Your lecture hall, the cafeteria, sitting in the lawn under a tree, the main hall,...

You decided that the next time you would see him, you'd tell Spencer. You didn't want him to worry if this turned out to be nothing. Maybe the man was just an exchange student? Or had joined during the academic year?

Two days later, the FBI made an arrest. A man named Ben Colton fitted the profile exactly. In his dorm room, they'd found pictures of women who looked exactly like the last victims and of resembling women on campus, you were part of them. You didn't know that, Spencer had felt you didn't need to be aware of that specific detail. The only problem was that the BAU had no physical evidence tying him to the crimes yet. The arrest had been sanctioned by higher authorities while physical proof was searched for. Police dogs and officers had been tearing through all of his possessions while Garcia had gone through his entire online life. Nothing tying him to the murders had been found.

The general public knew nothing of this, of course. To them, someone getting arrested meant they could go on with their usual lives. The man you'd been seeing left and right had left your mind entirely as you celebrated your regained freedom with your friends.

Of course, Spencer had warned you. They were 99% sure this was the unsub, they just needed the evidence. That didn't eliminate the 1% chance it wasn't him. But 99% chances were good enough for you. You trusted the BAU. Specifically, you trusted Spencer. With your life.

So you started living your life normally again. You left for class a little later because you didn't need to walk with your other friends. You stopped sharing your location with Spencer. You put the volume of your music higher again. You started leaving your pepper spray at home. You started texting while walking again.

Needless to say, you were wholly unprepared for the violent blow to your head as you walked to class one morning. How ironic, you thought as you blacked out, that Mary Goldman had probably experienced the same thing exactly two weeks prior.

Taglist : (all of you who asked for a part three <3) @princess-ofthe-pages @usuck @theylovemelody @empressgraytea @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @lillianacristina @venomsvl @user-3113s-blog @pumpkin-cake @redros3y @faunrasthewinterelf @puppykinsthepotato @bookishnerd1132 @bonza-bear @teeshamcbeesha @hades-disappointment-child @princesssparkle2024 @darlingcharling-blog @yasmin12312 @khxna @jamieeboulos

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

ANIMALS- L. HOWLETT

Pairing: Boyfriend!Logan x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 636 (quick drabble lol)

Summary: You and Logan play a game of hide and seek while you have the manor to yourselves…

Warnings: Smut implied, fingering, daddy kink, praise kink, a little degrading, size kink, Logan being a dommmm, priminalish? Logan, swearing, teasing, grinding etc

“baby i’m prayin on you tonight, hunt you down and chew alive just like animals, animals like animals… baby you think that you can hide, i can smell your scent for miles…”- animals, maroon 5

You counted your breaths, trying to steady them. A quick, sharp inhale.

One, two, three, four. Out.

You gripped the bannister of the oak headboard, squeezing yourself in a corner by the back of the bed. It wasn't long now before he found you.

It was a chase. A hunt, a hound sniffing out his prey.

You and Logan had made a deal- your agreement more a joke then anything, but nonetheless- you were here, in hiding.

“If I catch you, I get to fuck you.” He smirked , flipping his pocket knife in the air, fidgeting around between his fingers like the blade was nothing. You laughed, eyeing him up suspiciously.

“You get to fuck me, hm?”

“Yeah sweetheart. Anyway that I want.”

Well you had never backed down from a challenge, especially not from him. As your boyfriend it was his job to rile you up- and to get you going. You couldnt say you minded it though.

So now you were here, a hand gently held against your mouth, as you tried to slow your heartrate down. You knew he had heard you, there was no way he hadn’t. The manor was empty, everyone gone on either summer break, a mission or were just out for the day.

It was when you and Logan could have your fun. The real fun.

Your footsteps surely echoed down the grand hallways, bouncing off the oak furnishings and dozens of old paintings hung. It was only a matter of seconds now, before he found you.

You squeezed your thighs together in anticipation, wetness coating the apex of your thighs. Your skin turned hot to the touch, heart beating so loud you could hear it rattling as if it were a fly buzzing in your ear.

Sure enough, the clack of his boots stopped at the doorway, pushing it open slowly. It creaked so loudly you winced.

“Cmere pretty, pretty girl. Come to daddy.” he chuckled, tormenting you with his slow and stead stride.

You heard an armoir open, then slam shut. He was toying with you.

“I know you're in here baby. I can smell ya.”

One, two, three, four. One, tw-

You let out a loud yelp as two large arms caged you in, sweeping you off your feet as if you were a sack of potatoes. “Caught ya.” he whispered teasingly in your ear, throwing you on the bed.

You bounced with an oof, scrambling back as he pounced on you. “Mghm Lo-“ you whined as he tore your top off with such ferociously you feared his claws would come out.

“You like running from me baby? You like the chase hmm.?” You nodded, gasping as his denium clothed knee pushed your legs apart, leaving you to grind shamelessly on his knee “Yeah, yeah I know you do. Fuckin slut.”

“F-fuck..” you stuttered as he pinned your hands above your head, letting you ride him. “Such a needy girl.” he cooed at you, mocking your moans and whimpers as he tugged down your shorts.

“She’s so needy too. Should I give her what she wants?” he asked, eyes greedily taking in the wet patch on your underwear. You clenched at the mere sound of his voice, panties dripping wet. Soaked. “Please Lo- you have to-“

“I have to what hm? I don’t think I have to do anything. You’re not in control here, princess.” You sucked in a gasp as his hand slithered down your underwear, large fingers coaxing you as they lightly brushed your clit, pinching it.

“Pretty girl.” he cooed, sliding a finger down past your folds, to pump deep inside you, curling until he hit the spot that had you seeing stars. “Stretchin ya out baby, cause you’re too tight. Always so tight f’me. I’m gonna fill you up so good, just the way you like baby. Such a tiny lil thing, you just wanna get wrecked hm?”

You were beyond flustered, muscles tensing as he picked up the pace- your toes curling. “You’re doing so good princess. But you gotta take my cock now, m’kay?”

[specialgradefckr]

tw: explicit content. toxic frat culture/attitudes. non consensual recording.

fuckboy satoru gojo.

fuckboy satoru who's in a group chat with a bunch of other shitty fuckboys who all brag about their conquests.

one of them posts a sex tape, bragging about how he took the girl's virginity and filmed it without her knowing. it catches his attention - the girl is kind of cute.

you're kind of cute. the sounds you make, the way you look and act, and damn, your body has his pants tightening. he thinks he's seen you around before.

the boys in the chat have a good laugh about what a dumbass you are. he jerks off to the video and moves on with his life.

and that's the end of it - until he bumps into you.

and actually you're... really nice. you apologize even though it's not your fault, laughing it off, picking your things up. he helps you, which is out of character for him, but he feels kind of bad for you.

you carry these tiny little mochi candies with you, and offer him one for his help.

you call him pretty. when he gets close enough to hand you your things he gets a whiff of your conditioner or body wash or something and it smells good. something sweet.

satoru wonders what scent it was. he thinks about it and he finds himself pulling up the video again, jerking off.

is it just him, or did you not cum in the video? he always knew the prick that took it was a total fucking loser.

and that could have been the end of it. that should have been the end of it, only, he seems to keep running into you again. completely by accident (at first) but later... well, it's not like he's avoiding you.

because you give him candy. you call him "pretty boy" and it doesn't sound even a little bit mocking. you smile at him, fondly, like you're happy to see him. you're just... nice.

what a dumb bitch. can't believe i actually got away with that lololol

i know dude. crazy. are you still together?

fuck that, we were never "together". she keeps texting me lol. needy af

he's nice to you when he sees you! he starts paying you back for the candies. buys you treats. brings you coffees. he learns your order. your major. your likes and dislikes. (how did that fucking prick get to touch you? what the fuck did he tell you?)

so maybe he jerks off to the video again... a few more times. he gets angrier every time.

the piece of shit in chat keeps talking about how bad you were in bed. he didn't even get you off. what a fucking loser.

he tells himself it's a matter of pride. he's good in bed, it's pathetic that the dude is bragging about his garbage performance. it's not like he cares about you.

it's not like he walks with you to classes. texts you all the time. finds out what body wash you were using and buys you ten more of them.

when he threatens the piece of shit that fucked with you, it's because he's embarrassed to be associated with him.

nothing to do with how you've confided in him that you're having doubts about the guy you 'were involved with'.

nothing to do with the look on your face when you say it, and the way it makes him feel like he's being stabbed in the chest.

nothing to do with the way that he - he can't stop jerking off to that fucking video, he can't stop looking at you, wishing - but he feels so fucking bad about it -

okay, fine, WHATEVER. maybe fuckboy satoru is catching the first crush of his entire life...

and then he sees another video of you in the group chat.

Sequel: The Strongest Feminist

[icanimagine08]

Whipped

Summary: Yoon Jeonghan gets teased by the rest of seventeen for being whipped for his girl.

Warnings: none! Just Fluff.

Word Count: 773

I couldn't wait to post so here is another Yoon Jeonghan fic. Hope you guys enjoy this! and if you have any requests for any other members/people/characters feel free to request/ask me anything and I'll see what I can do! Happy reading! :)

Yoon Jeonghan of Seventeen wasn’t usually the type to wear his heart on his sleeve—at least, not when it came to romance. He was clever, always a step ahead, and had a teasing streak as wide as the Han River. But since he started dating you six months ago, Jeonghan’s members had noticed a... shift.

And they were having the time of their lives teasing him about it.

It started during a lazy afternoon at the dorm. The group had finished their schedules for the day, and the members were sprawled across the living room, half-watching a drama on TV. Jeonghan, who usually dominated conversations with his witty comebacks, was unusually quiet. His phone was in his hand, and he was smiling at the screen in a way that made the others take notice.

"Oh, would you look at that," Seungkwan said, his voice laced with mock surprise. "Our Hannie hyung is smiling. At his phone. Again."

Minghao leaned over from the couch, trying to catch a glimpse of Jeonghan's screen. "Is it her?"

Jeonghan’s smile disappeared as quickly as it had come, replaced with an annoyed pout. He locked his phone and turned it face down on the table. "Mind your own business, Minghao."

But the damage was done. The members perked up, sensing an opportunity to torment their usually unflappable hyung.

"Oh, it’s definitely her," Joshua chimed in, grinning. "Jeonghan only smiles like that when it’s about her."

"What did she say?" Woozi asked, though the slight upward tilt of his lips gave away that he was more amused than genuinely curious.

"Nothing," Jeonghan mumbled, slumping into the couch like he could disappear into the cushions.

"Nothing?" Vernon repeated, his eyebrows shooting up. "You were practically giggling."

"I don’t giggle," Jeonghan shot back, but the redness creeping up his neck betrayed him.

"Sure, sure," Seungkwan said, waving him off. "Hyung, we all know you’re whipped. Just admit it."

"I am not whipped," Jeonghan insisted, but his voice lacked its usual conviction.

"You absolutely are," Mingyu said, chuckling. "Remember last week when you asked the manager if you could get off early so you could take her to that café she likes?"

"That’s called being a good boyfriend," Jeonghan retorted, sitting up straighter. "Maybe you should take notes, Mingyu."

"A good boyfriend who’s whipped," Dino added, earning a high-five from Seungkwan.

Jeonghan groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "I regret introducing you all to her."

That wasn’t true, and they all knew it. From the moment you and Jeonghan had made your relationship official, the members had been nothing but supportive. They’d even gone so far as to declare you "the perfect match" for their mischievous angel, as you somehow managed to keep up with Jeonghan’s antics while also bringing out his softer side. But their enthusiasm also meant they saw every little way Jeonghan’s walls had come down, and they weren’t going to let him live it down.

"You’re so good for him," Seungkwan had told you during a group dinner a month ago, while Jeonghan had gone to get drinks. "It’s like you’re his kryptonite. He’s so soft for you."

Now, as Jeonghan endured their teasing, he couldn’t help but think of you and the way you’d probably laugh if you saw this. You’d tell him he deserved it, and honestly, he’d have to agree.

"Alright, that’s enough," Jeonghan said, trying to regain some semblance of control. "Yes, I’m dating someone amazing. Yes, I like doing nice things for her. Can we move on now?"

"Not yet," Seungkwan said, leaning forward with a sly grin. "Hyung, did you text her goodnight last night?"

"Of course I did," Jeonghan replied, without thinking.

"Aha!" Seungkwan pointed dramatically. "See? Whipped!"

The room erupted in laughter, and even Jeonghan couldn’t help but chuckle. He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips despite himself.

"You’re all children," he muttered, but his tone was fond.

Later that evening, when the teasing had finally died down and the members had dispersed, Jeonghan found himself back on the couch, phone in hand. He opened your chat and started typing.

Jeonghan: Remind me why I put up with them again?

Your reply came almost instantly.

YN: Because they love you. And they’re right, you are kinda whipped.

Jeonghan groaned, but he couldn’t stop the grin spreading across his face. He typed back quickly.

Jeonghan: You’re lucky I love you.

YN: I know. ;)

Jeonghan set his phone down, leaning back against the couch, he closed his eyes with a content smile. If his members wanted to play, they’d better be ready for Jeonghan to play back

[joonie-beanie]

Hat Guy's ASMR Commissions: S Tier | [Scaramouche/Wanderer x Reader]

Summary: Subject: Your Commission For [Guided Masturbation Audio - 30 minute session] In which your asshole best friends order a commission from your favorite ASMR artist, and it's a lot more NSFW than you were expecting. "From this moment on, you’re going to follow my directions. I’d say “if you fail to, you’ll be punished” but we both know you’re probably just another people pleaser who will do whatever I say, as long as you know it will make me happy. But fair warning–I won’t be happy until you’re so fucked out you can’t speak a coherent word.” Content: Smut, Guided Masturbation, Toy Use, Name Calling, Degradation/Humiliation, fem!reader Word Count: 6.5k Note: this is kind of an untraditional smut, so just keep that in mind lol

“Sweetheart…you really need to find some way to relax.”

“I agree. If you don’t release your tension, it’ll do a number on your health.”

You really appreciate Lisa and Yae being so concerned for you, but…

“I know. It’s just…not that easy for me.”

By now, in theory, you should have figured out some better coping mechanisms and ways to destress, but alas.

Taking a book from the return bin, Lisa scans it, and then places it onto the go-back cart.

“Well, have you tried getting off?”

Her suggestion makes you jerk, your head swiveling as you glance around the library to see if anyone nearby has overheard. At your side, Yae giggles.

“Calm down…finals have just ended. No one is in the library anymore—they’re out partying.”

You sigh. 

You suppose she’s right. The only reason you three are here is because Lisa is working the closing shift, and because Yae had insisted that you come along to the library with her to keep Lisa company.

“Traditional porn, a good adult novel, ASMR—all would be good options,” Lisa continues.

“I’m not really into porn right now, and I don’t think I have the bandwidth to focus on a book,” you say, resting your cheek in your palm. “As for ASMR…I’m not a big fan. I’ve really only discovered one creator that I like…”

“Oh?” 

Now that piques their interest. 

“What’s their name?”

“He goes by “Hat Guy” on twitter,” you tell them. “He mostly just…posts audio responses to dumb takes, or makes ASMR mocking other ASMR trends, but his voice is nice, and he has a small fan base…despite him kind of being a little shit.”

“How cute,” Lisa laughs while Yae pulls out her phone.

“Well, then…since it sounds like he doesn’t have any relaxing content, maybe you should just go home and take a nice bath. Did you ever use that bath bomb I got you for your birthday?”

“No,” you mumble sheepishly. At your side, Yae taps your knee.

“Lisa is right. Go home and have a bath. I’ll keep her company until she’s done.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise.

“Are you sure…? I just got here like half an hour ago and now you want me to go home?”

“I just think some “you” time would be good,” she tells you with a smile. You pout your lips, but ultimately decide that…maybe she’s right.

“Fine, I’ll head home and rest, then.”

“Good girl,” Yae responds, patting your ass when you bend over to grab your backpack. You narrow your eyes at her, but aren’t truly mad.

“Be careful on your walk home~,” Lisa says as you start towards the exit. You wave at them both over your shoulder, and then leave the building.

A few seconds after your departure, Lisa turns to Yae.

“Alright, what did you find that you didn’t want Y/N to know about?”

Yae grins, loving that Lisa has already caught on.

“Look—”

She gets up from her seat and leans over to show Lisa her phone screen.

“I found Hat Guy’s twitter and saw that he’s accepting commissions, and look at one of the options~”

She points to something, and Lisa’s eyes hurriedly scan the text in front of her. 

When she has finished reading, she grins.

“Oh, my…well, that’s certainly tempting.”

“I was thinking maybe we can give it to Y/N as a… “you survived finals! Use this to relax” type present. Since she’s always doing thoughtful things for us when we’re swamped.”

Lisa smiles, putting a thoughtful finger to her lips.

“I agree. She’s brought us so many cups of tea over the last few months. It’s the least we can do.”

“Good,” Yae says with a nod, immediately clicking on the commission link.

“She deserves a little…fun.”

Between the end of the previous semester, and the start of the new one, your University has generously given you a long weekend. 

4 days, to be exact. 

Most of this long weekend you spend doing the chores you’ve put off, and working a few shifts at your job. 

It’s only by some grace that you end up with Sunday off. One final day to try and relax before classes begin tomorrow…

You do your best to make the most of it—mindlessly scrolling tiktok, folding some clothes, debating if you should order food out, and ultimately deciding against it, since you just went grocery shopping…

All in all, it’s a pretty mundane day.

…at least, until the icon for your email app appears at the top of your phone screen, and you swipe down the notification to see the title:

Subject: Your Commission For [Guided Masturbation Audio - 30 minute session]

Immediately, you freeze.

Surely, this is a spam email that’s somehow made it through the cracks. Because you definitely haven’t ordered such a thing.

Yet, despite your doubts at the validity of the email, you still click on it—wanting to read the contents before banishing it to your spam folder.

Dear Recipient,

Attached to this email is an mp3 file available for you to download. This file was requested and paid for by “Fox and Witch”, and is being sent to you directly at their request.

Please do not distribute this anywhere else on social media, as this is my copyrighted content.

If there is any issue with the quality of the file, please let me know.

Have fun.

-Hat Guy

Note:

Toys Needed = Dildo, Clitoral Vibrator or Wand

…you must have knocked your head on something earlier and are currently hallucinating.

Because there is NO WAY there’s an email from HAT GUY in your inbox. And that said email is for…for…

Well, you remember seeing a link on his profile about commissions, but you’d never clicked on it to see more than that. There’s no chance he’s out here telling people how to get off, though, right…?

With a warm face, you scan the email again. And then a third time.

You can only assume “Fox and Witch” are Yae and Lisa. And you did just tell them that you like Hat Guy’s content…

You bite your lip, staring at the mp3 file. 

There’s just no way…

Hesitantly, you click on it.

“Hmph. You must be really desperate if your friends were willing to pay for a half hour of my time. Most people are satisfied with 10-15 minutes, but no…they knew you’d need longer than that.”

Oh…fuck. 

Something in your tummy flips.

That’s him, alright.

You’ve never heard him talk like that before, but it’s definitely him…you could never mistake that haughty, belittling tone.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, your gaze once again finding the title of the email.

Guided Masturbation.

If you’re not wrong, that means if you hit play, and keep listening, it’ll probably be a lot of Hat Guy telling you what to do…how to touch yourself.

Just thinking about such a thing makes more blood rush to your head—embarrassment blooming in your chest.

Sure, the idea of him bossing you around isn’t exactly unappealing. You’re sure he’d be…less than nice, and maybe even a little sadistic, and perhaps call you a few rude names, but—

You groan and place your phone face down on the table beside you.

“Nope, I can’t—I—”

Standing up from your couch, you trudge into your kitchen.

It’s dinner time—you need to make dinner.

You try to keep your thoughts from straying to your temporarily abandoned phone, and the email that’s sitting in your inbox—but it’s literally impossible.

Still, you manage to cook yourself a meal, and even partake in a little alcoholic drink. (Just because you’re treating yourself, and definitely not because you want to ease your nerves a bit.)

Once you’ve finished eating, you clean all your dishes, and then return to the couch. Your gaze strays to your phone, but you don’t pick it up—instead deciding to grab the TV remote.

You make it approximately 25 minutes into a movie before you can’t take it anymore.

Hitting the pause button, you throw the remote on the couch beside you and then snatch up your phone—alighting from the couch.

You grab your headphones on the way to your bedroom, and pop them into your ears only after you’ve gathered your dildo and vibrator.

Maybe this audio won’t be as hot as you’re assuming, and you’ll end up not wanting to touch yourself, but…better to have everything prepared just in case, right?

Taking a deep breath, you hit play.

The track restarts from the beginning. 

“Hmph. You must be really desperate if your friends were willing to pay for a half hour of my time. Most people are satisfied with 10-15 minutes, but no…they knew you’d need longer than that.”

“I also hear you’re quite the little masochist—but I could have assumed that, considering it’s me that you’re soaking your panties over. Just another slut who wants to be bullied, huh.”

You huff at his words, glaring at your phone screen. 

Did Lisa and Yae tell him your kinks or something?? Those bitches.

“Well, you’re in luck, because from this moment on, you’re going to follow my directions. I’d say “if you fail to, you’ll be punished” but we both know you’re probably just another people pleaser who will do whatever I say, as long as you know it will make me happy.”

Dammit, why is he right—

“But fair warning—I won’t be happy until you’re so fucked out you can’t speak a coherent word.”

With a shaking finger, you pause the audio.

You hate to admit it, but his words—the way he’s speaking to you—is already making you wet. 

You really, truly want him to bully you, and use you like a little toy.

So, guess that means you’re doing this.

Throwing any caution and shame to the wind, you hit the play button again. 

“Now…where to begin? I always like to start with an inspection. Take off your clothes, but leave your panties on. I’m not going to bid your needy pussy any attention just yet.”

You obediently do as he says, stripping yourself of your clothing until you’re left only in your panties.

“It’s unfortunate I’m not there to survey those titties in person, so you’ll just have to feel them up for me. Go ahead and grope yourself. Take a minute and massage your chest…I want to see if you’ll get wet from that alone. Although, you’re probably wet already just from my voice, aren’t you, slut?”

You click your tongue at that last part, (hating that he’s right), but nonetheless bring your hands to your chest. 

You cup your titties, and begin squeezing them—feeling the soft flesh beneath your fingers. 

“Good, keep going—squeeze a little harder now. Ah…I bet your nipples want to be touched, huh? Start teasing them, then—just enough to get them hard. I’ll give you 10 seconds—that should be enough.”

For some reason, the challenge of accomplishing a task within a certain time limit makes your pussy throb, and very quickly, you move your pointer fingers over your nipples—rubbing them lightly, and coaxing them to a peak. 

You’re ashamed to admit it, but they manage to get hard in the 10 second pause he gives you…

“Wow, look at that…what greedy titties you have—responding as I say, eager to be played with. Pinch your nipples and roll them between your fingers. Find the motion that feels best, and do it over and over again, until I tell you to stop.”

Resting your breasts in your palms, you pinch your nipples between your fingers—rolling and tugging them. 

Your eyes flutter shut as you touch yourself, each purposeful little tweak of your nipples causing your spine to twitch, and your pussy to clench.

It’s been too long since you’ve touched yourself like this…

By the time Hat Guy’s voice fills your ears once more, your nipples have started to get sore.

“Okay, stop there. I bet your cunt has started quivering, but I hope you know it’ll still be a while before I give you the chance to cum…unless, you somehow managed to orgasm from playing with just your titties? If that’s the case, congratulations! You’re the most needy and pathetic whore I’ve played with. So pathetic that I’ll give you a pass, and won’t even punish you for cumming without permission.”

The thought of being able to cum from nipple play alone makes you feel even more aroused, much to your chagrin—

“Now, let’s inspect that dirty pussy of yours. Spread your legs, and pull your panties down to your knees. I want you to stare at the crotch of your panties and feel ashamed at the wet spot I know is there.”

Taking a deep breath, you hook your fingers around your panties and tug them down your thighs.

As you spread your feet apart, you end up staring at the crotch of your panties—your lips pressing together when you notice there is, indeed, a very noticeable wet spot.

“Next, bend over. As low as you can go, with your legs still apart. I want to see everything.”

Locking your fingers together, you hesitate for a brief second before you bend over—feeling a strain in your leg muscles as you hit the point where you can’t bend anymore.

In this position, you know that you’re on full display.

“Look at you, presenting yourself to me…you really don’t have any shame, do you? If I were there, I’d be grabbing you and forcing you open wider, but since I’m not, you can do it for me! Grab your ass cheeks with both hands, and spread.”

Breathing a little shakily, you do your best to reach behind you and spread yourself. You feel your asshole clench as you do so, and the involuntary action maddens you, considering Hat Guy’s next words are—

“Such a tight little hole…I bet it’s twitching.” 

“Is it nervous, or hoping for an intrusion? Either way, anal is not the objective of today’s session, so let’s move back to your pussy. Go ahead and spread your folds with your hand. You have permission to bend over with your chest to your bed, if you feel your blood rushing to your head from bending down so low. And if you're not by your bed…where the fuck are you listening to this audio? In your car, or a bathroom stall? Pervert.”

That little quip at the end makes you smile, even as you stand up and move yourself to your bed.

You find it a little endearing how he’s bossing you around, but still managing to be somewhat considerate. You suppose maybe there is more to him than just being a brat on the internet.

Anyway—

Reaching one hand back between your legs, you slide your fingers between the folds of your pussy and spread them—opening yourself up as if he were there to inspect you.

“Now, rub your fingers at your entrance—feel how slick you’ve gotten…honestly, you should feel ashamed. Getting so wet for a no-face internet stranger.”

Sure, your panties were a little wet, but that doesn’t mean—

You move your fingers to your entrance—freezing at the amount of sticky arousal you feel. 

You...honestly can’t remember the last time you’ve gotten this wet.

“Smear the slick around your pussy, and make sure to get your clit. That’s where we’re headed next.”

You do as he says, perhaps a smidge overly excited that you now seem to be entering the main course.

As your fingers ghost over your clit, your pussy shudders.

“Bet you just clenched in excitement, huh?”

How does he fucking know—?!

“I'll be nice and will let you use two fingers. Press the pads of your fingers to your clit, and start making circular motions. Slow. 1…2…3…just like that.”

Breathing deep, you begin rubbing your clit with your fingers—repeating his count in your head, and following his pace. 

With each pass of your fingers, your walls squeeze tighter.

“You probably want to rush, or grind your hips on your fingers…but you shouldn't be acting so desperate just yet, so be a good girl and keep going.”

Huffing, you obey his command,

He goes silent for a few beats, really giving you a minute to continue hopelessly teasing yourself. 

By the time he next speaks, a needy exhale is leaving your lips—heady arousal truly being to pool in your lower tummy.

“Now you can go faster. Rub your clit to the beat of your heart. I assume it's racing, so you should be moving your hand a bit faster than before.”

You haven’t really noticed before now, but your heart is certainly beating much faster than normal…

The steady, yet swift thump of your heart is felt throughout your body the more you focus on it, and you quickly adjust your pace. 

A breathy little sigh leaves your lips—your brows pinching together.

You want to cum. 

“I wonder if you're close already, just from your fingers on your clit…haha. If you are, remember—you don't get to cum until I say so. So if you're close to cumming, edge yourself. Get right to the edge of your orgasm, and then stop. I'll give you 10 seconds after that to collect yourself, but then you have to keep going.”

Oh, fuck…

You suppose you should have realized that edging might be part of the equation, especially during a 30 minute session.

And, unfortunately, the thought of edging yourself for him makes you even hornier—pushing you closer to your first climax—or, well, edge.

“I bet you're probably thinking that 10 seconds isn't very long…that when you start again, you'll still be right at the brink of your orgasm, and will have to keep edging over, and over…hah, well…that's your own fault for being so hopeless.”

“Now, I'll let you set the pace. Find the rhythm and motion against your clit that makes you feel the best…you're going to keep that up for 1 minute—and remember, no cumming.”

Dammit—

By now, your lips are fully parted—quick little breaths fanning in front of your face and warming the sheets of your mattress.

You don’t want to edge, you want to cum, but he won’t let you—

“Also, why don't you go ahead and count aloud? I assume you're in private, so it shouldn't be an issue to let out your voice. And if you're not, well…I guess people will get to hear what a debauched whore you are.”

If this were 10 minutes ago, you’d surely blush and hesitate to follow his command.

But now…now you’re a little closer to being the debauched whore he’s calling you.

“I'll count with you so you don't rush it. 60…59…58…57—”

With headphones in, you hear your own voice in your head—mingling with his. 

His, unwavering, with a hint of mockery. Yours…quiet, and struggling to stay on beat.

You clit throbs beneath your fingers, and there’s a familiar flutter of your walls, despite your pussy currently being empty. 

You’re getting close. 

“I can only imagine how sinful you look right now…oh, right. Where was I? Hmm…let's just pick up from 30.”

Motherfucker—

You let your face drop into your sheets, your thighs tightening and knees shaking.

Fuck, you wanna cum. You know you can’t—know it’s not allowed yet, but—!

“5…4…3…2…1. Stop moving your hand.”

Perfect timing. Right at the edge of an orgasm—you pull your hand away.

You take a second to try and catch your breath while ignoring the unfulfilled ache between your legs.

“Your pussy must be throbbing, huh? Lucky for you, as your benevolent master, I’ll let you stuff it full. Grab your dildo and get on your bed on your knees.”

“Also, I assume you're soaked by now, but if not, and you need additional lubrication, use lube.”

You glance behind you at your dresser, where your bottle of lube sits, but ultimately don’t grab it. 

By now, you’re sure you can do without.

Grabbing your dildo, you climb onto your bed, and obediently get on your knees.

“Now, sit up and position the dildo beneath you. Rub the head between your folds, and then settle it at your entrance.”

You do as he says—a shiver of excitement raking up your spine as the tip of your dildo unexpectedly flicks against your clit while you get it into position.

“I'm going to give you 3 seconds to take it fully inside of you…What? I did say we'll be stuffing you full, and with how needy you clearly are, I figured I'm doing you a favor by letting you take it all in!”

Oh. That’s—

“So, I'll count to three. Oh, and if your dildo is too big, and you're scared to sink down onto it all at once, well…that's your own fault for biting off more than you can chew. But, I'm sure that greedy pussy will take anything it can get.”

It will.

“Ready?”

You take a trembling breath.

“3, 2, 1—!”

In one swift motion, you spread your thighs and sink down onto the dildo.

When the head bumps against the deepest part of you, you can’t help but gasp—the sound positively lewd.

“Ahhh…fuck. You made a cute sound, didn't you? How precious…now you're stuffed to the brim with dick, as you should be.”

Yes, this is exactly how you’re meant to feel…just a little slut who will do anything to cum for him.

Yet, despite his harsh instructions, he seems to pause for a second, giving you a chance to acclimate to the intrusion.

How cute.

“Why don't we start slow…I want you to lift your hips until just the tip of the dildo is inside of you, and then grind back down on it. Up…and down…up—”

To aid in the motion, you place your hands flat on the mattress in front of you, and then begin moving your hips.

Up…and down…

Your walls clench around the dildo, practically begging for more, but the man currently using you as his personal toy clearly isn’t inclined to give you such a thing.

At least, not immediately.

If you had to guess, he makes you continue at this slow, teasing pace for at least 2 minutes—your muscles beginning to strain as you resist going any faster.

Then, his voice fills your ears once again. You nearly sigh with relief.

“I hope your thighs aren't burning yet, because now we're going to pick up the pace. Imagine the gallop of a horse's hooves. I want you to grind on each downbeat. No need to make big motions—just grind on your dildo how you'd grind your pussy on my cock if I was there.”

If he were here, you’d wanna grind on his dick until he’s moaning louder than you are—

“Fuck…”

Fingers curling into the sheets, you find your new rhythm—the sound of your wet pussy beginning to fill the quiet room outside your headphones.

Sweat starts to bead on your brow—the arousal inside of you searing hotter, and your muscles getting tighter.

“I wonder if you can cum from internal stimulation alone…try to find your g-spot if you haven't already. I want you to bully it with your dildo.”

You can practically hear the grin in his words. 

Repositioning yourself, you find the angle that better allows you to rub that sensitive little spot inside you.

Almost immediately, a whine rips from your throat.

“Now…I'm going to issue you a challenge. I'll count down from 60 seconds again. During that 60 seconds, you're free to cum. So try your best, okay, slut?”

Please, you want to cum, but you don’t know if 60 seconds will be enough—

“60…59…58…”

Dammit—

With his challenge invigorating you, you continue messily grinding your hips.

Each pass of your dildo against your g-spot causes your pussy to shiver, and your thighs to shake—your orgasm creeping closer.

“33…32…31…”

A desperate sound slips past your lips, your eyebrows knitting together.

You want to cum.

You want to cum.

You want to cum, but—

You drop down onto your dildo roughly, almost in a pouting manner.

You need more time.

As soon as your climax finally begins to build—your walls clenching down on your dildo—Hat Guy reaches the end of his countdown.

“3…2…1…so…did you cum? Either way, I'm sure your legs are shaking. I wouldn't doubt that your sheets are getting soiled by your arousal, either.”

“Well, whether you came or not, don't worry—there's still more opportunities to orgasm yet to come! That being said, set your dildo to the side, and grab your vibrator instead.”

Exhaling, you manage to lift up your hips, and your dildo slips out of you. 

It flops onto your sheets, glistening with your arousal.

Your pussy mourns the loss.

Setting your dildo to the side, you grab your vibrator instead.

“You can go ahead and lay on your back. I'll give your knees a break…isn't that nice of me? You should say “thank you”.”

You clench your jaw as you roll onto your back, your eyes squinting at the ceiling.

There’s no way he’s serious, right? Counting is one thing, but thanking someone who isn’t here?

“Huh? Did you think that was just a suggestion? Go on.”

You wet your lips with your tongue.

“...thank you.”

There’s a brief second of silence, and then—

“...pfft, hahaha! If you actually did just say it aloud, you're more of an obedient people pleaser than I thought. What a precious little cock-sleeve.”

You want to punch him—

“Anyway, I haven't let you cum from your clit yet. I bet by now it's engorged and begging for attention…go ahead and put your vibrator on your clit. Turn it on low.”

The fact that even just touching your clit causes you to jolt proves that his words are correct.

Hitting the power button, you turn your vibrator on a low setting, and almost instantly—the orgasm that had started to fade away flares back to life.

“Good…I'll let you keep it there for a little while. Actually…I'm gonna go get some water. God knows how upset you'd be if my voice suddenly gave out and I couldn't give you permission to cum—”

You hear the sound of a chair being alighted from, and footsteps padding away from the mic.

“This little motherfucker—,” you pant, your chest heaving. 

You gently rub your vibrator around your clit—hoping that doing so will help you delay the orgasm that’s building—but it’s impossible to avoid.

After another minute, you can’t put it off any longer.

Your body tenses, your pussy tightening, and—

You tear the vibrator away from your clit.

If he were here, you think you’d honestly start to beg him for mercy. Of course, you’re sure he’d say that’s practically your first true edge, and you’re just being a little baby, but still.

You start the countdown from 10 in your head, and once it’s done, put your vibrator back on your clit.

Your entire body jolts as the pleasure that had been denied snaps back to attention.

You’re gonna have to edge again—

“How are you holding out? Did you edge at all—just from the vibrator being on low? At the very least, I bet you're squirming and panting.”

“Now, listen closely. I'm going to make you an offer.”

If his offer involves you cumming, you’ll do whatever it takes.

“I'm going to let you cum with the vibrator still on low—assuming you can. This time I'll be generous and will give you 90 seconds, even. But here's the catch. At the end of this session, you will be cumming. So if your begging cunt blots out any logic in your brain, and you decide to cum now, and then feel it's “too much” later, well. That'll be your own fault. Even if you're overstimulated, you'll be cumming again, so choose wisely.”

“Either way, you need to keep the vibrator on your clit for another 90 seconds. You just need to decide if you're cumming or edging. Get ready. To spice it up, this time I'm not counting aloud—I'll just tell you when to stop. So if you're planning on cumming, try not to waste any time. Because if I say stop and you're right there, I doubt you’ll be very happy. Now, begin.”

Risking an overstimulated orgasm after this is a dangerous game, but—

You press the vibrator harder against your clit. 

You need to cum—you don’t care about anything else right now.

Your free hand grabs at your breast—your toes curling, and your heart racing.

Your back arches off the bed, a symphony of miniscule whines and gasps falling from your lips.

Then, the tension inside of you reaches its limit, and snaps.

Your voice catches in your throat—your body spasming as waves of pleasure rock you.

You keep the vibrator on your clit to draw them out as long as you can, but after a few long beats, Hat Guy’s voice fills your ears once again. 

“Stop—that's time. So…did you cum? I wish I could see the state of you…I bet you're starting to look all fucked out. We're already at the 20 minute mark, after all.”

You can’t believe it’s already been 20 minutes. Yet, at the same time, can’t believe you’re not already closer to the end.

“Now, I did say you'd be cumming again, so why don't you go ahead and put your vibe on high? Let's try and force it out of you.”

It’s fine…it’s totally fine. 

Turning your vibrator on high will be totally fine.

You move the toy back to your clit and push the button until the vibrations are much more intense than before.

Almost immediately, heat rushes through your body—stemming from the still recovering nerve ending on your clit.

You’re over-sensitive. Fuck.

And yet…your pussy still flutters—your muscles tensing once again as another orgasm begins to build.

“Ahh, I bet you're squirming like a pathetic little worm. Is it too much? Do you want to beg me to let you stop?”

“Your toes are curling, aren't they? I wish I could hear you and see you panting like a bitch in heat. Should I throw you a bone? Would that satisfy that sad cunt of yours?”

You are writhing, and panting, and every other filthy thing he’s pegged you as. But—you don’t want to stop. You’re too far in now—your whole body shaking, and your breaths coming quick as the vibrator on your clit overwhelms you.

It’s overwhelming, but you can’t stop chasing that high. You—

“Actually…that's not a bad idea. Stop—now.”

Despite not wanting to, you immediately yank the toy away.

You hear yourself whining, unable to help it.

“Hopefully you didn't cum in the last 30 seconds. If so…whoops~”

You wish you could kick him.

“This final orgasm is going to be our grand finale, so we should really let the sparks fly. And maybe your juices, depending on how hard you cum.”

“Grab your dildo—shove it in.”

You scramble to grab it—your arm darting to the side to recover the dildo you’d discarded a short while ago. 

As soon as you have it, you spread your legs and press the head at your entrance—stuffing it in without any preamble.

A pleasant sigh leaves you as that full feeling returns.

“You're going to fuck yourself with it—however fast or slow, I don't care. And at the same time, turn your vibrator back on high.”

You can tell where this is going, and you honestly think it may kill you, but you follow his instructions nonetheless.

Turning the vibrator on high, you place it back on your clit and then begin fucking yourself with the dildo. 

Almost immediately, involuntary sounds slip out of you—your body writhing against the sheets.

The overwhelming strength of your vibrator on your clit now partnered with the messy rubbing of your dildo between your walls…you’re truly becoming the mess he promised to make you.

“Oh, and just so things don't end too soon, you need to hold out for at least one minute. I'll let you know once you have permission to cum.”

You hardly think it’s fair that he’s saying this now, considering you’ve already started fucking yourself, but even so, you want to listen—want to be a good girl who does what he says, and only cums when permitted.

Holding out for a whole minute when your cunt is already starting to spasm—your clit feeling like it’s on fire—is certainly going to be a challenge, though.

“You know…I bet if this were a live call, I'd be able to hear how wet your pussy is. You're probably gripping onto that dildo so tightly…as if it's a real cock that you're begging to properly breed you.”

If he were here you wonder how he’d fuck you. Certainly hard enough that you’d be able to hear the slap of his balls against your pussy—

“You must be panting, huh? So ready to cum…I wonder if you’d be obedient enough to cum when I say. Why don’t we try? We’re getting close to a minute, after all.”

Oh, fuck. 

You’ve never cum on command before, but you want to for him.

“C’mon, princess, I know you can do it…keep going…get yourself right there—”

Your chest shudders, and tears blot your eyes.

You’re trying. Everything feels so hot. 

The arousal in your tummy swells—tightening up, and searing your insides.

“Cum.”

A sob rips from your chest, and you grind your dildo against your g-spot one final time, before your body obeys, and releases.

With the vibrator on high, this orgasm is much more intense than the last. 

Your breath catches, your spine curving, and your hand releases the dildo in favor of grabbing onto your sheets for dear life.

Despite the clamping of your pussy around the silicone cock, it still manages to slip out of you after a few seconds—flopping onto your mattress, and poking wetly against your ass.

When the pleasure on your clit starts to turn to pain—you finally tear the vibrator away. You turn it off, and weakly discard it onto the bed beside you.

Despite no longer having any toys in or on you, your cunt and clit continue to twitch with aftershocks.

You take a deep breath. 

Hat Guy is still talking in your ears, but your brain is too scrambled to process what he’s saying. So, you just continue to lay there until his words sound more like words again.

“Alright, you must have cum by now. Take a minute to breathe. And when you’re done catching your breath, make sure you get up and go pee, and then get some water. Because I’m not about to be liable for any after-effects of this session.”

Despite being exhausted, you can’t help but quietly laugh.

“Good job making it through. I’m sure we’ll meet again soon…mostly because I’m sure you’ll be opening this file again to get off to, haha.”

“Later~”

The audio ends.

You lay there, staring at the ceiling.

Then, you roll onto your side, slowly get up, and head for the bathroom.

Can’t let Hat Guy be liable for you, after all.

The following morning, you wake up with sore muscles, and a determination to go and beat up Yae Miko and Lisa Minci about their “gift”.

Yeah, maybe you are a little less tense than before, and the stress that had been clinging to you after the end of the previous semester is now gone, but still. They deserve a good scolding.

First, however, you have to go to your 9AM lecture. After that, you’ll have time to run to the library.

Despite the soreness in your thighs, you manage to trek across campus and make it to your class with time to spare. You chose a seat somewhere in the middle, and then set your bag down in the chair beside you.

With nothing to work on yet, considering today’s the first day, you entertain yourself with social media apps on your phone as the lecture hall slowly continues filling up.

When there’s only a minute left before the class is set to start, there’s a tap on your shoulder.

Startled, realizing they’ve probably been trying to get your attention, you immediately take out one of your headphones. Before you can even turn to face them and apologize, they’re talking.

Except…the voice of the person beside you is…eerily familiar. Scratchy, attractive, and perhaps a little annoyed—

“Do you mind moving your bag? There aren’t very many seats left.”

Without saying a word, too stunned to speak, you reach over and move your bag to the floor at your feet. The man grunts, and takes a seat beside you.

As he pulls out his laptop, you finally build up the courage to look at him. 

Dark hair and eyes to match…slim fingers, but veiny hands…a black shirt and oversized jacket—

“Do you need something?”

Oh, fuck—you’ve been openly staring.

Your eyes meet his for the first time, and you open your mouth, but no words come out. The beat of your heart starts to get faster.

He cocks an unimpressed eyebrow at you.

“What? Cat got your tongue?”

This is just too much—there’s no fucking way this is happening—

Unfortunately, before you can finally pull it together and try to redeem yourself, your professor takes the podium at the head of the room.

“Class! Welcome! While it might be a little unconventional to start the semester out on this note, I just want you all to know in advance: this class will heavily rely on cooperation with others. There will be many team projects. In fact—the person you’re sharing a table with will be your project partner for the whole semester!”

…what.

Beside you, the man sighs—clearly unhappy to hear about there being group projects, or you being his partner, or both.

“Great, looks like we’re stuck together.”

“Yep…,” you mumble in response, the first word you’ve managed to speak since his arrival.

He obviously notices, because his lips pull into a teasing little grin, his eyes remaining trained on your still-speaking professor as he whisper—

“Oh, would you look at that? She speaks.”

Your pussy clenches.

Mhmm, yep! 

You’re gonna go jump off a bridge.