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zynhttyd · 2 months ago

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TOOTHLESS KNOWS BEST

pairings « hiccup haddock x gn! reader »

✎ When you help nurse Toothless back to health after an unexpected illness, the Night Fury grows protective of you. Hiccup is surprised by the dragon’s sudden attachment—and even more surprised when Toothless starts shadowing your every move and nudging you toward his rider.

【warnings; none, second hand embarrassment if you care enough.】

They say dragons were once fearsome beasts, horrifying beings of terror who reveled in the suffering of vikings. With their hooked fangs, which set them apart from the common order of nature, breaking the harmony of the world. They would sink their jagged teeth into the skin and gnaw upon the bones of unsuspecting men, dragging their broken bodies to nests forged in the heart of molten rocks built in the high sky.

These creatures, capable of soaring across the heavens with wings that defied reason—vast and powerful—could span the heavens, forcefully ruled the skies with an iron grip, a terror unmatched by any other force. Berk, the beast of the archipelago, stood as a testament to the fragility of peace amidst a history of unyielding strife. A land carved by scars, scarred by the ceaseless struggle between its people and the creatures they dubbed “monsters.” told this story that had echoed for seven long generations, a tale of ceaseless strife and bitter hatred.

But it took seven generations. Seven long generations of struggle, sacrifice, and transformation for Berk to heal. The land had changed for the better—No longer did the people cower beneath the shadow of these mighty creatures.

A misunderstood child who knew no war was the reason to hit them with the realization that dragons weren’t vicious beasts whose sole purpose in life was to spread fear, but a gentle creature who were curious just as the people. They had learned, through years of conflict and understanding, to bend the essence of their deepest fears into something stronger—a bond forged in the crucible of mutual respect. Where there was once hatred, there now stood the beginnings of trust.

The villagers, who once spent sleepless nights bolting their doors and sharpening their weapons in anticipation of the next raid, now spent their days working alongside the very creatures that had once been their enemies, now companions in the sky, and partners in the pursuit of new horizons.

While the majority of the villagers had forged unbreakable bonds with their dragons, they wore their titles with pride—Riders, they were called, as though it were a crown, you stood apart. You were not one of them, you never will. You were not one who yearned the heights or the thrill of the wind in your hair as you perched atop a Nadder’s sharp-spined back or to cut through the depths of the sea with a sleek Tidal-class dragon beneath your orders. Your feet remained firmly planted on the ground—and truth be told, you didn’t mind.

It wasn’t just your fear of heights, though that certainly played a part. The idea of being thousands of feet in the air with only leathery wings and blind faith keeping you aloft made your stomach churn. While others saw dragons as mounts, instruments of power and glory to be ridden into the heavens. You became attuned to their every movement, their subtle shifts and nuanced gestures.

Over time, you learned how to read them — the way their wings twitched when they were agitated or how they softly curled their tails when they felt safe. You understood that a dragon’s body spoke volumes, even when they couldn’t. Noticing the shift in their posture, how their eyes softened when they trusted you, or how their breath would quicken if something was amiss.

You preferred to nurse them, to soothe their wounds with a gentle touch, offering comfort where others might only offer a quick, dismissive pat. Others would offer praise with the calloused palms of their hands, clapping a dragon’s back after a triumphant hunt, their actions rough like the bark of an old tree—kind in their own way but lacking the softness that true care requires.

That was the way you had always handled things in old Berk. Thankfully, no dragon has yet to be injured on the new island.

Then Toothless fell ill.

"[Name]! Oh, thank Thor’s maidens you're here," Hiccup called out to you, his voice strained, a clear edge of panic curling the words. His eyes flicked back and forth, darting between you and the frantic Night Fury pacing erratically across the room. Toothless' wings twitched uncontrollably, the delicate membranes brushing against shelves, knocking over bottles made of stone and glass, the contents spilling in chaotic arcs across the floor. Toothless’s eyes were wide, pupils tiny pinpricks of frantic energy. His mouth snapped open and shut, his sharp teeth glinting as if trying to convey something that couldn’t be expressed.

You’d seen Toothless angry, playful, even fearful before, but this was something else entirely. This was distress. What could have made such a strong dragon like the Night Fury become so distressed? What could he convey with his actions and movement that left no process of communicating plainly?

You’re bound to make a promise to figure out why Toothless was like this and help him if you could.

You turned, wiping your hands against the fabric of your cotton-sewn tunic, the remnants of purple crushed herbs leaving faint streaks on the cloth. The scent of the mixture still lingered on your fingertips, bitter and sharp, along with the sweet scent of wet flowers that hung in the unfinished hooked wooden roof.

As you looked up, your gaze met Hiccup’s. He was standing in the doorway, looking like a newborn yak with an amputee—his breathing labored as though he had just run a great distance of a race. Hiccup’s hair appeared matted and his eyes looked restless as they were doubtful. His chest was rising and sinking almost melodically. His face was pale, and his eyes were just as wide as his dragon’s, filled with that mix of concern and urgency you’d seen only in moments of true danger.

"Toothless?" You called softly, taking a careful step forward while trying to be calm, taking hold despite the growing worry in the pit of your stomach after seeing the dragon’s current state. He was scared. Toothless, although startled by your almost fretful tone, did not pay attention to you and continued with his line of thought oblivious to your attempt to soothe him down the situation. His ears flattened back at the sound of your voice, but his movements didn’t slow. In fact, he seemed more erratic now, each step heavier than the last, each twitch more desperate than what came before.

“What happe–”

His words tumbled out in a rushed whisper. "I-I don't know what's happening. One minute, he was fine, and the next... this." Hiccup gestured helplessly toward Toothless, who continued to pace, his wings stiffening and shaking. Toothless growled lowly, his body tense and rigid as he backed into a corner, his breathing uneven and labored. Every attempt to approach him resulted in a defensive response—his ears folded back, tail lashing sharply, and a clear warning in his posture that he felt threatened despite the familiar presence of his two trusted people.

Hiccup took a quick step toward you, avoiding Toothless in case it was to ensure that he remained calm, dragging a hand through his unkempt hair, his fingers gripping at the strands as he exhaled sharply,

“Something is wrong. He’s been like this for nearly an hour now,” the young Viking explained, his tone quieter but no less urgent than before. “It started after he accidentally swallowed a yellow eel. He fell ill almost immediately—developed a high fever, I think, then he became noticeably weak, and…” Hiccup’s body was taut, every muscle in him was bracing for the worst. His eyes darted to Toothless, but his dragon refused to meet his gaze, his pupils slit, with his body sinking lower to the ground, curling into himself, trying to make himself smaller in the face of whatever pain was coursing through him.

Toothless’s breathing was shallow, his sides heaving slightly as he fought to stay still, to hide the tremors that racked his frame. Hiccup took a cautious step forward, but Toothless flinched at the movement, lowering his head as if to shield himself. “He refuses to let anyone near him. Not even me,” Hiccup finished, the last words a quiet confession that only deepened the worry on his face.

“Won’t even let me close,” Hiccup whispered, his hand hovering just over Toothless’ back but never touching.

“Please, [Name], help him.”

His voice was flat, but his expression said more than words could. He didn’t fidget, didn’t avert his gaze. You nodded once, not out of reassurance but acknowledgment, and moved past him. His red tunic smelled faintly of iron and damp leather, his sleeve brushing yours like paper worn thin.

Toothless was lying near the hearth, his body tense. His wings were pulled in close. His claws scraped lightly against the floor, his movements uneven and sluggish. His head remained low, eyes dull, unfocused. There was no protest, no attempt to move away.

You crouched beside him and opened your satchel. The supplies were still warm from being near the fire—clean cloths, crushed herbs, a sealed vial. Your fingers moved without hesitation, but your eyes scanned every detail of Toothless’s condition. His breathing was irregular. His tail had a slight swish, and the skin around his jaw looked strained. Whatever had happened to him, it was already spreading.

“I’ll do what I can,” you said.

You didn’t wait for thanks. There was no time.

The fire had burned low, its glow reduced to a warm shimmer beneath the stones, casting gentle light over the room’s stillness. You knelt beside Toothless, your hands steady as they hovered near his flank, gauging the subtle rise and fall of his breathing. The fever that had held him in its grip for so long had finally broken during the night, and now, for the first time in what felt like hours stretched into days, there was calm in the air.

He started to blink slowly. His head turned slightly toward you, his nostrils flaring with a soft, measured breath. His tail, which had remained curled protectively around his body during the worst of his illness, loosened and stretched faintly across the wooden floor. His throat rumbled with a sound so quiet you almost missed it—a low, cautious greeting, like a voice forgotten, then remembered.

You inhaled deeply, feeling the tension ease from your shoulders all at once

“He’s responding,” you said quietly, almost to yourself.

Across the room, Hiccup sat in a slump against the wall, his body slack from the exhaustion of too many sleepless hours. The blanket draped haphazardly over his legs had slipped to one side, revealing a tunic stained with soot and worry. His head, tilted at an uncomfortable angle, rested against the beam behind him. Even in sleep, his brows twitched with unease, his jaw faintly clenched—seeming as if he didn’t quite trust peace to last.

Toothless raised his weight, testing the strength in his limbs. He paused once, winced slightly, then adjusted his stance. The tremors that had racked his body earlier were gone, replaced by deliberate, if cautious, movement. His wings stretched, not in full flight, but enough to show that he could. It wasn’t strength, not yet—but it was progress. More than you had dared hope for yesterday.

Then, with surprising care, he began to walk. Each step was certainly slow, the soft pads of his feet brushing against the floor with faint thumps. He crossed the room without hesitation, his eyes never leaving the boy in the corner. When he reached him, Toothless lowered his head, pressing his snout gently against Hiccup’s arm. A quiet, purposeful sound left his throat—not loud, not demanding, but enough.

Hiccup stirred. His eyes opened blearily, and for a second, he looked confused, as if his mind hadn’t yet caught up to what was happening. Then his gaze focused on the dragon in front of him, and everything else fell away.

“You’re awake,” he said, voice hoarse and raw. He leaned forward, one hand lifting to rest on Toothless’s head, the contact hesitant at first, then grounding.

Toothless nudged him again, a bit firmer, with a breath that seemed almost like a sigh.

You let them have their moment.

It started the moment you stepped outside.

You didn’t say anything at first—you assumed Toothless was just being clingy, the way most dragons acted after being healed. A little spoiled, maybe. Like a puppy demanding belly rubs and scratches behind the ears. You’d seen it plenty of times before.

But then he didn’t just nudge at your hand for attention.

He got closer. Much closer.

Without a sound, Toothless lowered himself until his head was resting across your lap, the full weight of his trust pressing gently into you. His tail, smooth and sinuous, coiled loosely around your leathered boots—not in a possessive way, but as if anchoring himself to you. Like he didn’t want to drift too far, even at rest.

Your hand didn’t stop moving. You continued to pat his head, your palm caressing from the ridge of his nose to the top of his forehead in slow, steady passes. The texture of his scales came to be familiar with your touch now—cool and sleek like river stones warmed just slightly by the sun. You could feel the subtle rise and fall of his breath beneath your touch, each exhale a quiet puff of warmth against your clothes.

Hiccup had been watching from just behind, peeking curiously over your shoulder, his brow furrowed as he eyed his dragon with a mix of confusion and suspicion. He knew Toothless better than anyone—of that, there was no doubt. They were best friends, bonded for life, closer than brothers. He could read the Night Fury like a book, from the flick of his ear fins to the way his pupils shifted in size. But right now? Hiccup didn’t have a clue what was going through his dragon’s mind.

Toothless was being clingy—uncharacteristically so. That kind of affection, that gentle insistence to be close, was usually reserved for Hiccup alone. Or, on rare occasions, when Toothless decided he wanted someone’s food and pulled out that ridiculous, wide-eyed look he’d perfected over the years.

He didn’t offer his head to rest across laps like some tame house cat. And he especially didn’t wrap his tail around someone unless he absolutely meant it.

Hiccup hovered just behind your shoulder, shifting his weight with an almost imperceptible unease. His posture suggested casual interest, but there was a tension in the way his hands fidgeted near the leather harness, as if he needed something—anything—to justify standing that close. He leaned slightly over, his voice low and deliberately nonchalant.

“He’s, uh… made himself very comfortable,” he remarked, casually, though his tone betrayed a hint of something else, pretending a study of the saddle straps that he himself had fastened not even an hour earlier—though his eyes never once flicked to the gear.

You didn’t answer right away. Your hand remained where it had been for the past few minutes, gliding in slow, absent circles across the midnight scales stretched over Toothless’s brow.

“He was restless earlier,” you murmured, eyes still on the sleek silhouette resting across your legs. “I think exhaustion finally caught up with him.”

Hiccup exhaled through his nose—a quiet, incredulous sound, the kind he often made when something didn’t quite add up. “Tired, huh?” he echoed, one eyebrow arched as he crossed his arms. “Right. Because Toothless is known for voluntarily laying down and offering his head like some… overgrown feline.”

“He’s been... different since he got better,” he said eventually. “Clingy, I guess. But only with you.”

As if prompted by the remark, Toothless flicked one ear back lazily and released a deep, sonorous sigh—a low rumble that vibrated warmly against your legs. Then he adjusted his weight just slightly, curling tighter around your boots in a gesture so deliberate it might have been smug.

“You know,” Hiccup continued, now frowning slightly, “he only gets like this when I’m injured… or if there’s leftover fish and he’s trying to butter me up.”

You said nothing—only smiled faintly, the pads of your fingers tracing along the ridges where scale met bone. The rumble of the dragon’s throat deepened—a smug, vibrating hum that practically radiated satisfaction.

There was a pause.

And then, perhaps against his better judgment, Hiccup added under his breath, “Honestly, if I didn’t know better, I’d say he was flirting.”

That definitely caught your attention. You turned your head slowly, casting a glance over your shoulder with one brow arched so high it might’ve escaped orbit. Every line of your expression—your knitted brow, the sharp squint of your eyes, the downward curve of your mouth—broadcasts a very clear and unfiltered what the actual hell without needing to say a word.

Hiccup’s eyes widened, his brain seemed to catch up with his mouth a second too late.

“With you! I mean—not you—like, not literally!” Hiccup stammered, his words tripping over each other in a spectacular, crashing spiral of embarrassment, not knowing how to stop, he just continued. “Thors! Dragons don’t flirt. That’s not—I mean, I don’t think that’s how it works. I just meant—” He stopped himself again, grimacing and raking a hand through his already-messy hair, as though hoping sheer friction could erase the mortifying sentence from reality. “I meant dragons don’t flirt! At least—I don’t think they do. Not in any, you know, intentional way. Not that you’re—ugh, never mind. Just forget I said anything.” He was done for. Absolutely cooked. And you? You just sat there, rigid as a stone sculpture, your entire expression locked in a state of horrified disbelief—lips drawn in a taut line, eyes slightly widened, your entire face twisted into that exact look you reserve for the unfortunate occasions whenever Gobber absentmindedly scratches his ass mid-conversation in front of you.

“Oh, by Odin’s beard. I sounded insane just now, didn’t I?” yes, yes you did. You wanted to say.

There was a loud snort.

Toothless lifted his head just enough to crack one luminous green eye open, as if to gloat. If a dragon could sport a smug grin, almost as if he were fully aware of the awkward tension hanging in the air and relishing every moment of it. Toothless was wearing it now—his posture relaxed, almost lazily victorious, as if he knew something the rest of you didn’t. It was a quiet, undeniable triumph. Then, with the most deliberate motion imaginable, the dragon raised his head just enough to nudge your arm... right into Hiccup’s thigh.

Your hand collided with him before you could stop it—fingers landing just above his knee. His leg jerked slightly. You froze.

He froze.

Even Toothless stopped moving, watching you both with an intensity that would’ve been terrifying if it weren’t so smug.

“I—he—what is wrong with you?” Hiccup half-whispered to his dragon, voice strained.

Toothless gave a tiny, airy chirp and nosed your hand again, this time with more force, like a toddler shoving two dolls together hoping they’d kiss.

“Well, if he is flirting,” you said, eyes glinting with amusement, “I’d say he’s got excellent taste.”

Hiccup let out a strangled noise, somewhere between a scoff and a nervous laugh, quickly raising his hand to shield his reddening face. “Please,” he muttered, voice nearly cracking in desperation, “I’m begging you. Don’t encourage him.”

A soft chuckle rumbled in your chest, the sound barely escaping as you continued to run your fingers along the smooth curve of Toothless’s jaw.

“Relax, Chief,” you teased lightly, your tone as calm as ever, well, nervous also, “I think your dragon just likes being pampered.”

“You know what,” he muttered, his hands already pulling toward the saddle straps, “I think his saddles make him itchy. I should change it.”

It continued after

New Berk lay quiet in the late afternoon, blanketed in the mellow hush that followed a long day’s labor. The skies were stained in hues of peach and gold, the sun dipping low behind the ridge, its last light brushing the rooftops with amber fire. Down by the dragon stables, you were crouched beside a weather-worn harness, your fingers working the frayed leather with practiced precision. The air smelled faintly of salt and dragon musk.

Toothless sat only a few feet away, his wings partially tucked, tail curled lazily around his paws—but his eyes never left you. That deep, verdant gaze tracked your every movement with a focus that was… unusually intent. For a moment, you swore he was studying you, like you were the dragon and he the expert.

The silence was broken by the familiar rustle of boots—well, boot, and the clink of a prosthetic leg against gravel. “Got the saddle gear you wanted—oh, hey, looks like someone started without me,” Hiccup called out

You offered a small smile. “Just got started. Figured I’d prep the straps while I waited.”

You glanced up as he jogged toward you, the dying light of the sun catching the mess of buckles and saddle slung over his shoulder. His tunic, stained with smudges of charcoal, bore the marks of the day’s labor. A grease-streaked cloth hung loosely from one shoulder, and smears of oil lined the edge of his jaw like war paint, a testament to the effort he’d put in.

“Gobber had the replacement buckles hidden under a crate labeled ‘Definitely Not Dragon Parts.’ I didn’t ask,” he added, crouching beside you with a huff of exertion.

Toothless twitched an ear.

Hiccup began to kneel down beside you—but before he could get comfortable, Toothless leaned in. It wasn’t aggressive. Just a firm, intended nudge with his snout to Hiccup’s side.

Which, unfortunately, was all it took.

With a muffled yelp and a sudden lurch of limbs, Hiccup lost his balance. In one swift, ungraceful motion, he toppled sideways—right into you. The unexpected impact sent you crashing backward, your back hitting the earth with a startled gasp. The air whooshed from your lungs as you were flattened to the ground, Hiccup landing awkwardly above you, his hands splayed in the dirt beside your shoulders as if trying to catch himself, but failing miserably.

You both froze.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Just the sound of the wind and Toothless’s faint chuckle broke the stunned silence. You lay there, staring up at him. Hiccup, his face flushed and eyes wide with embarrassment, shifted slightly, trying to regain his balance, but his awkward position only seemed to deepen the comedic nature of the situation.

“I—I swear that wasn’t me—he bumped me, I swear!” Hiccup stammered, his voice cracking under the strain of sheer mortification. His entire face flushed a vibrant crimson as if the embarrassment alone might send his ears into flames.

Toothless, meanwhile, let out a low, throaty trill—undeniably smug—before flopping onto his side with a soft fwump. He stretched his wings in a manner that could only be described as exaggerated satisfaction, purring contentedly like a mischievous feline who had just knocked over a vase and couldn’t be prouder of the chaos he’d wrought.

You laughed softly. “I think he’s trying to herd you.”

“Toothless,” Hiccup groaned, glancing at his dragon. “Stop it, I’m not a sheep!” He lifted himself just enough to look at Toothless, who was now shamelessly lounging in the grass, with an utterly smug look on his face.

Toothless chirped again—this time with what could only be interpreted as sure you’re not—and used the tip of his tail to slide a small stitched pouch directly between the two of you. The sewing kit skidded to a perfect stop at your knees, like he’d been practicing the maneuver all day.

“Yeah, he’s a real genius,” Hiccup grumbled as he shifted, trying to right himself. But the moment his hand pushed into the grass to grab the harness—wham. Toothless’s tail snapped out in a swift arc, tapping the small of Hiccup’s back.

And, just like that, Hiccup tumbled again. This time, he didn’t just lose his balance—he fully sprawled on top of you. His weight came crashing down with a perfect lack of coordination, and just like that, the last shred of dignity between you both evaporated in a heap of tangled limbs and groans.

Now it wasn’t just awkward—it was catastrophic. His face was far too close, hovering a few humiliating inches from yours. Everything else seemed to vanish. Your noses almost touched, and the proximity sent a rush of warmth through your chest that you didn’t quite know how to process. His hair, soft and surprisingly warm, brushed your cheek as he scrambled to push himself up, but instead of finding balance, he only succeeded in awkwardly elbowing you in the ribs.

The jolt of the impact made you wince, but the real sting came from the overwhelming closeness, the sheer absurdity of the situation, and the fact that neither of you could move without causing yet another small disaster. It was like the universe had conspired to take every shred of composure you both had left and toss it out the window.

Silence.

Well, except for the unmistakable sound of Toothless making a pleased little gurgle behind you, followed by the soft sound of him flopping dramatically onto his side like he’d just orchestrated the greatest comedic performance Berk had ever seen.

“I—I didn’t mean to—I mean he—Toothless—I swear he—” Hiccup stammered, his voice tripping over itself like a cart on cobblestones. He scrambled to push himself up, flinching every time his elbow threatened to jab your side again. His face was flushed a mortified crimson, a shade that clashed violently with the soot smudges across his cheek.

Hiccup looked like he wanted the earth to open up and swallow him whole. His wide eyes flicked to the ground, then back to you. You lay there, stunned, still half-flattened against the grass, your brain desperately trying to reboot from the shock of having Berk’s most awkward chief sprawled on top of you like a felled pine.

“I believe you,” you finally breathed, your voice catching somewhere between a laugh and a wheeze.

Hiccup’s face turned even redder, if that was even possible. “I—I’ll just… get up now. Slowly.”

“I swear,” Hiccup muttered, finally offering you a hand as he tried to extricate himself with the last scraps of his morality, “I’m usually much better at not falling on people.”

#httyd x reader #httyd fanfiction #httyd #hiccup haddock #hiccup x reader #hiccup haddock x reader #hiccup imagines #how to train your dragon

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bunnis-monsters · 6 months ago

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🎄NSFW 🎄

warning: oviposition, gangbang, fluff+smut

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

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

“Mama, what’s Christmas?”

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

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

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

They all let out a collective “ooo”.

This was the beginning of the end.

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

“Mama, I wanna make cookies!”

“A-and I want to see Santa!”

“Mama, are we elves?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh dear…”

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

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

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

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

It was difficult not to laugh.

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

“Alright, let’s go home.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And every single one of them was hard.

“My queen~!”

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

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

Your body.

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

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

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

“Is this okay, my queen?”

“Ahh, my queen, you’re so tight…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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