#PERFECT ASHE HAIR

[tidbi-t-art]

💚Ashe and Hapi🩵

These two mean the world to me, neither of them have known a day of peace in their lives, then they met and began to heal together…

[soap-is-an-artist]

this was supposed to be a quick sketch

[solstheimtxt]

Video game companies please let dude characters have long hairstyles that isnt just the fucking Lord Farquaad bob please, PLEASE

[touyasdoll]

what does your f/o do for you when your drunk &/or not feeling well?

[aqqleshiqqing-archive]

halloween dress up idea with the color pallet trio... red is jason, jaide is freddy and blue is michael (he complains about the mask)

[meownotgood]

pillars. / viktor x gn!reader, fluff and angst, lots of angst actually, implied childhood friends, confession kisses, mentions of death, one singular czech pet name, kissing viktor's moles, takes place during s1 act 2, so technically no s2 spoilers but some things are implied. word count: 7.9k

read on ao3

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"You look exhausted," You hum, your voice thick with fatigue in unison, "Don't you think you should rest?" 

Viktor takes a breath deep and slow enough to hear, his hands briefly faltering as he twirls a small, bronze magnifying glass with his fingers, but he doesn't reply, nor does he turn away from his notes. 

The lab is cool, quiet — aside from the distant hum of various pressure valves and idle machinery. The Hexcore thrums. Runic engravings litter each complex, geometric surface. Viktor rests his balled-up hand on his face, bony knuckles pressing into his cheek. With his inkpen, he messily scrawls something into his notebook. Low, blue light illuminates the cluttered room and his workspace. Each side of the Hexcore pulses when you approach behind him, twirling to its own complex, ominous rhythm. Acknowledging you, somewhat. 

Viktor inhales sharply, and shakes his head frustratedly, crossing out what he'd just written with jittery, forceful motions. 

It wouldn't be the first time you've found him here, like this, mulling over some sort of invention or idea when most of the city is already asleep. Falling into a focused routine is merely second nature. And normally, you wouldn't protest. 

When you were much, much younger, staying awake as long as you could felt fun. Helping Viktor cram studying for exams in between finishing an invention the night before Progress Day became a yearly occurrence. In the weeks before finalizing blueprints for the Hexgates, you'd almost forgotten when either of you had last seen the sun. It's just that this routine has been far more absorbing, far more taxing — and the repercussions are painted clearly on Viktor's shadowed face. 

He looks drained. Worn. Like if he tried to stand, if he wasn't leaning against his desk and absorbed in his research, the weight of his own exhaustion might make him crumble and collapse. The ends of his hair stick out in messy, curled strands, from where he's anxiously twirled them around his fingers. 

You hate the dark bags that have made their home under his eyes. You feel a knot in your gut as you watch Viktor's hands; shaky, and imprecise. Flipping through the pages of his notebook to search for something. Tracing a sentence with the end of his inkpen, only for his gaze to flicker back to the start when the words failed to register. 

You sigh. Forcing a smile, even though he can't see it, you take another stumbling step forwards. Your arms wrap around his thin figure loosely, and your weight settles gently yet firmly against his hunched back, in something of a tender, evocative hug. 

Viktor shifts, his grip tightens on his pen when it almost slips. You nuzzle into the perfect, head-shaped space at the crook of his neck, breathing him in — flooding your senses with a coffee-warm richness, with the scent of ash and sweat and lingering sparks. 

His gaze softens like melted honey. As if the simple press of your body to his returned pieces to himself he'd thought he lost. Brows unpinching, your heat at his neck spreads across him in waves, contradicting the collected edge kept in his tone. 

"I'm not yet tired," Viktor lies, trying his hardest not to lean into your embrace. "I'd like to analyze this for a few moments longer. This page is," He shakes his head. "Incomplete. If I could find the key to what induces some form of response, then-" 

As if on queue, the Hexcore sparks with energy, twirling faster, glowing with luminous constellations. Viktor swiftly moves to jot something down, but as fast as the Hexcore reacted, it's just as quick to return to normalcy. 

He mutters something under his breath, slightly jostling you from his shoulders when he leans forwards in focus. 

"I swear," You're grumbling; you rest your chin on the hard edge of his shoulder, glancing between the Hexcore and his notes with passive interest. "You've always been like this." 

"Like what?" Viktor flips through his notebook once more. "Stubborn, I'm assuming?" 

"Stubborn, yes. Smart. Terribly ambitious." You reach up, until you're able to place a few taps onto his forehead with the end of your finger. Viktor barely seems to notice. He adds onto an almost-full page by messily writing in the margins. 

"I know how hard it is for you to stop those gears in that brain of yours. Once they're going, it's impossible to get them to stop." 

"Mm. And you know how important this pursuit is in particular, yes?" 

He reaches for a notched turn dial on the opposite side of his desk, connected to the Hexcore by a series of braided wires and support poles. Your gaze follows his hands — gripping carefully, with delicate, calloused fingers. There's a distinct pause. A moment of palpable tension, as you both instinctively hold your breath. 

Viktor twists the dial. Once, twice. 

The Hexcore gives off a few miniscule, pitiful sparks, like a God's first attempt at a lightning storm. And he expels a long, drowsy, disappointed sigh. 

"I do," You murmur, sympathetic. 

Viktor grinds his jaw, hard enough to feel it aching, but even through his fierce familiarity with self-induced destruction, even though he isn't deserving of this, he can't hope to hold onto the ragged bites of stress in his veins. Not when you're so warm, when the feeling you ignite in his chest with your voice alone is so terribly soft. He has missed this. 

"But I also know," You're continuing, "Every time you get close to a breakthrough, once you let yourself rest," Viktor's head nods sleepily, struggling not to fall, and you playfully tap your index finger to the end of his nose. 

"That's when you find it." 

Part of him wishes he could keep himself from listening. Of course, as strongly as he wants to be better and more efficient, because taking a break is like admitting defeat, and defeat is worse than accepting he might've reached the end of his line — he knows you're right. 

Placing the cap on his pen, he leaves it in the middle of his notebook, closes the pages to save his spot before hastily, reluctantly pushing it aside. 

You grin. You slowly shift up, and Viktor feels your arms sliding from his shoulders, your weight leaving his body. For a second, he thinks you might move, believes you'll leave and feels a sharp grind between his ribs at the thought. Instead, you place your palms on his rigid shoulders, and you squeeze. 

His lashes flutter, eyes partially rolling into his skull. His head grows dizzy, like he'd been spun. Frustration melts out of him as warmth and light take its place, shining from your touch like the kiss of stars and the rays of the sun. Bright and lovely; galaxies weaving themselves into his tired muscles. 

Relaxing, he can't help but lean back, dropping his head against your waiting chest. 

"I saw Jayce before I left this morning," You're murmuring. It's in one ear, and out the other at first. You lean in, speaking close to him this time, to make sure you've been heard. Your voice shudders through him, warm like candle wax. "Says he hasn't seen you sleep in days." 

"In one day," Viktor corrects, rather matter-of-fact for someone who's busy melting into you like his limbs are boneless. "Technically, about twenty- no, twenty two hours. More or less. Honestly… hardly worth the over-exaggeration." 

"Vik," You scoff playfully, breath fanning warmly on his skin. "You're doing it again." 

Your palms move. They drift from his shoulders to his arms, fingertips gently toying with his sleeves in a foolish attempt to touch his skin. He tilts his head all the way back, and cracks his weary eyes open to look at you. 

"And what is it I'm doing?" 

"Saying things that make me worry about you. And then expecting me not to." 

"I am not-" 

Right then, before he can speak, your hands return to his now-tensed shoulders; they combat the ache in his chest and the tightness in his throat when they roll his muscles. His chest thrums with a soothing gentleness, rich and saccharine, difficult to swallow down. 

"You are worried about me?" Viktor questions, sighing slightly when your hands work out a particularly old, tightened knot. "I have not seen you in… who knows how many days. I have lost count." 

Your mouth forms a hard line. 

"I- I know," You're answering, hands drifting down smoothly, as if they're carried on waves. They find where his tie is neatly fastened around his collar, grasping the diamond and pulling to loosen it. "I've been trying not to get in your way. Everything is just- Jayce is a counselor now, and you're busy with a thousand different things. I'm not going to interrupt your work with my stupid-" 

"Our work." Viktor's tone is resolute. It holds you, grounds you against the raging winds in your mind that threaten to pull at your pieces. "Hextech was furthered by your contributions. Do not forget that." 

You swallow, but it does little to chase away the dryness in your throat. In a hasty, abrupt motion, your palm grasps Viktor's shoulder, this time twisting his chair to make him face you. He eyes you with surprise for a moment, his tired gaze tender and weak enough to light the shrapnel in your stomach. 

"Viktor." Your head tilts, affectionate. You reach up, and brush away the messy strands of hair that cover his pretty face and tickle his forehead. "This research, this dream of yours, it's-" 

"It is a necessary risk." 

Gaze wide, you freeze up. Viktor exhales sharply, glances away from you to focus on something in the distance instead — messy shelves of discarded machinery, inventions you once worked on together, etched with your signature and his — because the way you're looking at him has an ache prodding at his heart, sharp and thorned.  

"Finalizing this thesis would simply be the beginning," Viktor continues, passionate, gradually starting to talk with his hands. "Think of the lives we could save, of the good we could prosper from this sort of technology. Enough to improve the Undercity for the better, to provide rationale for the potential dangers. I understand you are worried- but this is our life's work we are talking about. If we were to determine the true limits of Hextech, it would make our efforts worth it, in spite of… even if…" 

He stops, trails off. Glances up, and decides he might've said too much. You understand. You have always understood where all of this is going. 

The lives he could change would be worth the price, even if he was to throw away his. 

Tattered threads tear from within you — unspoken, buried deep. You've become well acquainted with the taste of denial. Sharp on your tongue, thick in your throat to meld with the bile. It sits on your lips as words better left unspoken. Eats away at your skin and your flesh and your core, settles in your limbs and at the tips of your useless fingers. Reverberates, until the ringing in your ears begins to sound like him. 

Piltover feels so distant, with the idle noise of the lab filling the room. Miles away, even though you're right in its heart. Nothing has ever been fair. It cast you aside, it was never your home. He was. 

All you've received for ages now are fake sentiments, vague reassurances. Reminders of how terribly futile your ambitions have proven to be. Every sun has to set, every star will burn out — but fuck, you don't want him to burn. 

Your mind is dizzy. Each thought spins, tipped faster and faster. Light pounds from behind your eyelids, and your stomach churns, making you nauseous. The lines blur between Viktor's figure, the floor, and the dull aura of the Hexcore, beginning to overlap everything together. 

You aren't present, or perhaps you're wishing to be anywhere but here. Curled beneath the covers, hiding under your bed like you did when you were a child, running to the furthest, broken edge of the universe so you wouldn't have to imagine him slipping through your fingertips; Viktor draws you back, grasping your chin oh-so gently. He tilts you towards him, puts your focus on him to push the rest of the world into the background. 

"Though, I suppose there is no harm in stopping for the night," Viktor reasons, his tone a soft murmur, devastatingly gentle. "I have missed you. I believe I may have neglected to make myself clear." 

And for a brief reprieve, there isn't anything sweeter. Nothing this fatal. 

His arm braces behind him, elbow resting on the edge of the desk. You follow through when he gently keeps you in place, steady on his direction; you're a compass, and he's Polaris. Your gazes don't separate, magnetized together like a hex crystal to iron. 

For a moment, he forms a small pout, in a way that would have you grinning if the circumstances were different. His expression ripens, becomes soft. Almost guilty. A plea and an apology and some form of a confession, muddled into one dangerous, indecipherable nebula. 

"You sure?" You're muttering, trying to keep your tone upbeat, regardless. "Your project looks like it's itching to fly away." 

"Eh," Viktor shrugs, he allows his thumb to brush over your cheek. "I'm sure it can wait. It understands I have more important things to focus on." 

His touch makes you ache. Guides your sorrow to entwine with his, digs in deep to grasp at your chest with such devastating familiarity. 

It's an excruciating reminder of how much you have craved this. How badly it hurts, to feel Viktor's hand tremble as he touches you, slightly unsure, when you wish he wouldn't be. Exhaustion is wound so deeply into his system, you'd think he was born with it. He brushes his palm from your cheek to your jaw, caressing idly, in an absent, lazy motion. And it frustrates you, because you know you'll soon be lost, wishing you could feel his touch again. 

Every pound of your heart reminds you of everything — of the brushes of fingers, when passing tools and pens at the work table. Hands solidly grabbing one another to steady anxieties, to offer familiar reminders. Nights spent categorizing constellations, while in your eyes, Viktor's radiance burned brighter than any distant galaxy. 

Gentle touches pressed to weary limbs. Tightening machinery, releasing the gears on a brace. An arm offered to help him stand. Instinctually standing beside him, at the side that might need you. Fingertips exploring the notches of a spine, traveling rivers of veins, mapping out star-shaped clusters of freckles. 

Tired moments much like this, but instead of protests and strives against fate, there were lovely brushes of whispers. Twin dips in the same bed, murmurs of, I'm here, you can go back to sleep. Touches that wished for themselves to be something more, something lasting. Though they knew they'd evaporate by morning. 

It's far too late to still rely on daydreams. 

You let the haze die out, tracing the edges of his hard knuckles as an apology before you clumsily push his hand from your cheek. Standing up straight, the lab seeming more cold and quiet and empty than ever, you choose to put distance in between yourself, and your lost love. 

"Sorry. I shouldn't-" Breathe, you've got to remind yourself to breathe. Air catches in your lungs, sharp and dizzy, and you quickly shake your head. "Viktor, I-" 

Gods, Viktor shouldn't have to choose between you and his ambition. He shouldn't need to place his own body in the middle of making a difference, and saving himself. There's still so much you haven't done, haven't said. The life you both dreamed of and fought for is crumbling, he still has so much he was meant to accomplish, and yet — 

A hand grabs your wrist with surprising force, to keep you from taking another step back. 

Viktor's brows pinch. "Do not tell me you're thinking of leaving." 

Oh. Your gaze finally travels up from your feet, and he looks hurt; his voice barely manages to avoid cracking around the edges. His fingers dig into your wrist sharply, desperately. 

Viktor's jaw tightens, his firm grip causing veins to show in his wrist. Your shoulders slump, and you exhale. 

"I'll walk home with you. You shouldn't sleep here, it's bad for your-" 

"No, no you will not," Viktor interrupts, exasperation echoed through his tone, pain and worry laced through the lines of his palms to compel them to shake. "Tell me why you are refusing to stay. It's been weeks without change, why must you run off the moment I attempt to make time for you? I doubt you have any idea how much this torments me." 

Weeks of avoidance, days upon days where he'd watch you disappear too soon. Viktor would turn, he'd say something to the empty air because he expected you to be there, but you would be gone, absent from the lab or the hallways or the dorm you once shared. Bitter sentimentality, the hurt you forgot to take with you, is all that would linger in his bones. 

Just how far are you willing to run — in vain, until your legs might snap — to pretend you won't lose the only thing you have left, your friend, your partner, to imagine you might escape the certainty of his conclusion? 

Your gaze is flighty. It carries raindrops, flutters on soft wings, between him and the intricate, statuette angles of his face. Between the ground and the desk, and the glowing Hexcore. He has rarely seen you so unsettled. When your emotions run high, you hide them from him; unsuccessfully, he might add. Your wrist flexes beneath his palm as he feels your hand clench, and unclench. 

Little by little, you're tugging his heart from between his ribs. Tearing it apart like petals pulled, like the games you used to get lost in when you both were kids; you love him, you love him not —

"I can't stay. I wasn't- I shouldn't have tried to come back to the lab in the first place," You answer, dejected. His grip only tightens on your wrist when you pull. "Viktor, please." 

"Answer me. I need you to say something," Viktor grits out, voice getting louder, his shoulders tensed with frustration. "What is the cause of this- this fracture in between us?" 

Your arm drops. Your bottom lip quivers, and your breath gets caught in your lungs. The expression on your face is more sore than he's ever seen it, painful enough to kill, bordering on bursting into tears. 

And then, your voice quiets. "I don't want to watch you die." 

The Hexcore gives off a low, rumbling sound. The lab becomes quiet enough to hear the individual ticks of machinery gears. 

Viktor's grip loosens on your wrist, only slightly. He doesn't speak, he can't listen to his heart or his head when he's placed between the persistent thrumming of both. You aren't looking at him. Regret dawns on your face, then sadness, then something he can't recognize when you turn your head away. Fatigue curls into his system, and settles amongst everything else: the guilt, the anticipation. The raw, forceful tenderness. 

It's a reminder that you're right. 

The passing of each slow second seems to exist for just the two of you. Dragging on and on. Barely helping him to find any answers. If only there was more time. 

Words could never be enough, burying your emotions like lodging a knife way deep in your chest isn't working. Your partner was made to burn bright, to exist as an act of defiance itself. To dedicate his mind and his body and his bruised hands to progress, no matter the obstacles or limitations, the past grievances or untold emotions. 

So many moments were never adequately spent. Days and weeks across years taunted you, moments spent as friends and colleagues, despite half of you belonging to him. 

You just needed one push, one thrust into the light to stop you from holding back, because you knew you risked ruining everything. But if Viktor continues, if the Hexcore grows more and more dangerous, if the council continues to require more of him, and what you haven't spoken about becomes true — there won't be anything left to ruin.

And as he watches you collapse, firm on the outside but weak on the inside, turning back to him because you have to, not because you want to, Viktor finally understands. 

He knows this body is… wilting. 

Decaying; he can feel every ounce of newfound weakness in his limbs, knows he's a servant to his own existence as it waits for him to waste away. Many from the Undercity are much less fortunate. He is grateful you are stronger than him. 

More pressingly, he is acutely, abruptly aware of how little time he's spent with you — it runs as fierce in his chest as the hourglass-shaped reminders of the short span he has left. You used to be inseparable, you shared the same dreams. Your talks weren't limited to melancholy utterances of, Have you eaten yet? and, Is your leg okay? and, I never see you anymore, will this time be the last? 

How he's chosen to treat himself are small deaths, in a way. Promises to join you later that led to nothing, nights of exhaustion framed by mornings of fading in and out. He's followed his own guide to avoidance, the steps were simply laid out differently. He's grown sick of it, truly. And deep down, or perhaps on the surface, he is so, terribly exhausted. 

Swallowing thickly, you remain frozen in place, waiting for him to give up, for his hand to slip from your wrist. When it does, you continue to linger. Your heart pounds loud in your ears. Little glances at him greet you with his face downcast, his shoulders slumped. 

You sigh — and you decide this can't be it, or perhaps you're just not ready. You draw yourself dangerously close, to trail your knuckles down Viktor's sharp jaw as a weak apology. 

If there's one thing he isn't accustomed to, it's throwing logic to the wind. Viktor tries to think of this like his notes, attempts to categorize and interpret these emotions. He imagines there's diagrams and logs in his own swirly handwriting, outlines that would guide him to precisely what he needs to do. 

None of it works, of course. It's a terribly juvenile line of thinking. And he's rarely one to give into impulsivity, but you make it so difficult to think, to focus. 

His breathing is already quickening and sharpening, creating pockets of light in his weak lungs, even through the reminders of his own mortality's shadow. Nothing is more important than the feeling you cradle in his chest, bright and fate-defying. 

It would not be like him to accept this. To fade out with a hundred contributions unfinished, a thousand words unspoken. Confessions meant to fall from his voice like meteor showers, fears and regrets with no way to form on his tongue. The thought alone leaves him troubled, choked. His jaw tightens in frustration, only relaxing when the ghost of your fingertips guides him to. 

Low light frames you, the features of your face troubled; oh, he can hardly remember the last time he's seen your smile. But he remembers, knows it to be beautiful. The slight softening his gaze undergoes as it flickers across you is utterly familiar — you pointed it out, once. 

Your eyes overfill with warmth, they melt like amber. Your pupils widen like big, lovesick moons. His head can't help but spin; there's so much he never realized, when you did.

His hands like to absently search for something to fiddle with when he needs to think. His fingers have a habit of tapping against something methodically: his desk, the spine of his notebook, his own forehead. The mark above his mouth follows his lips, when they tip into a smile. He's doing it now, surely. Softening in your afterimage. Gaze warm, honeyed, hopeful. 

No, he isn't sure if his fate can be changed; he's treading close, but he isn't dying yet. The Hexcore is unresponsive to every stimulus he's attempted, but his research is far from complete. There are mountains of quandaries he isn't sure he can fix, pitfalls remaining just out of his control. All but one, all but this. This is something he could do, something he can change. 

You almost speak. Almost give some useless, parting words when his tired, gentle eyes drift back to yours, two ships on the same sea. He's inquisitive, hesitant, his brows creased together in thought and with conviction. The mere sight of him — hair a mess, skin pallid, ignites a thousand feelings and worries in your gut; a lighter tossed to a puddle of gasoline. 

It's something Viktor picks up on. 

You look pained. Unsure of yourself, from the way your eyes can't quite meet his own, from how your hand slips away from his cheek, as everything in you threatens to disappear. Weary, as you gaze at him like you've already lost him. 

You've forgotten how to read him, he realizes. Caught up on what you might lose, the both of you have forgotten what you could have. Viktor's heart feels like it might burst, with enough force to make the sun's implosion look weak, and you don't understand, he'd have to show you. 

He takes it as a sign. Grasps the last chance you've extended to him, and runs with it as fast as he can. 

His name dies on your mouth, before you have the chance to speak it. Echoes haunt your soul when his palm finds your cheek, solid, sure; Viktor pulls you in hard, threads of distance easily closed, and he presses his lips to yours with an intensity that feels vividly visceral. 

It won't fix what's already been done. This isn't a promise, falling short between being reassurance and becoming a goodbye. It isn't the way he would want to confess, if fate was kind enough to give him a choice. 

But Gods, logic and reason, worry and mortality are all melting into nothing. Fading and fizzing into the sky, budding and beginning anew in his lungs — because for so long, he has needed this, needed you. As fiercely as dead parchment longs to be burned. 

Your body immediately goes tense in surprise. Your arms awkwardly hover in place, until Viktor's head tilts, following the gentle aria, his palm brushing from your jaw to your cheek to hold you close — as though you're still prone to vanishing, if he were to let go. Like this is the beginning of too many firsts, and even more lasts. This kiss is worthy of savoring. 

So, you do. You let your eyes flutter closed. You shift forwards with a shaky step, practically stumbling into him. 

It's sweeter than you ever could have pictured. The subtle roughness to his chapped lips. The slight tickle of his breath, when you pull apart for long enough to hesitate, but not enough to gain the wisdom to stop. 

Soft kisses draw you further, closer. A hand holds his cheek, a palm braces to his shoulder. Careful to use little force, to avoid any accidental hurt. 

Viktor follows, leans back, has you bending closer as you get caught in his butterfly effect; blue light bathes you, and the Hexcore shifts, utterly radiant. There's a moment of separation, a brief second where your eyes barely get to flutter open. A pause that promises to be your last opportunity for regret. Greedy and urgent, brutally eager, Viktor drags you back in, keeping you caught in his penumbra. Coaxing you to cage him in — to kiss him like you mean it. 

The taste of you is vivid, perfect, intense, rich; you make charged electricity glitter down his spine when your fingers curl into the soft, chestnut tresses of his hair. Grasping, pulling, leaving it even messier than it already was before. 

Your lips part, your breath forms an intoxicating meld with his. And he is only foolishly, stupidly human. Made of flesh and bright dreams, etched with soft skin and fervent desires. Too weak, desperate, and caught in your echo to contemplate anything but the way his own name sounds — the V is a soft vibration, the completion of the consonants makes it sound like reverence — when it's breathed into his mouth. 

Hazily, he feels your palm press, shoving gently to his chest, pushing his back against the desk in a clumsy effort to bring yourself closer. His chair shifts slightly from the movement, rusted wheels grating the tile. Your palm finds its place between his lower back and the desk's firm edge, bracing some of his weight, and acting as a buffer, keeping him from pressing against it. 

Viktor melts underneath you, breathes a soft noise into your mouth that begs you not to stop — as if you could. As if you haven't wanted this in an unquantifiable amount of ways, across an infinitum of discarded daydreams. You're left to steal gasps in between, clinging onto quickened sighs that rival the struggle of keeping your head above water, as wild waves crash over your skull. 

Out of breath, he blindly fumbles to find your shoulder; pushes gently, silently asks you for a moment of reprieve. 

You draw back immediately. You're unable to stop yourself from shuddering when he softly breathes your name. Familiar accent curling around the syllables, giving them life and importance like your name was made for him to say. To whisper, to covet, to plead. 

"Lásko," Viktor coos, as his eyes grow heavy. Glinting, with a spark of zeal that tells you to stop holding back. 

You're well acquainted with the warm, softhearted nickname. You know it to be something Viktor taught you himself, between gentle explorations of the few things you didn't already know about one another, when your late-night curiosity and desire to learn led you to, Oh, and what name would you use for someone special? 

His jaw grits; his next words, murmured in his mother tongue, resemble a sharp, possessive swear. His head tilts with yours when you lean closer — but you shift, falling in to let your lips find his neck. 

The kisses you place there are hurried, desperate; like rays of light, as if you don't have time. Obediently, he stifles a whimper, and allows his head to fall back. It leaves plenty of room for your wandering hands to crinkle and press aside his shirt collar, and you place your lips on the firm, jutting curve of his collarbone. 

You find the twin moles on his neck tendon, blessing a kiss there, near desperate enough to bruise. You follow them like a treasure map, to kiss the perfectly-placed mole above his mouth. Your palms cup his face faintly. Then, you sweetly kiss the mark on his opposite cheek, your lips warm, laced with fervent sparks. 

Viktor shudders, he feels lighting race up his spine and split him open like a scythe. He's been avoiding his own declining reflection for weeks upon months now, but he doesn't need to remember much of himself to still know exactly where you're kissing, like the back of his hand. 

The ghost of your lips just above his mouth, and then to the apple of his cheek send a thick, syrup-sweet realization reeling through him. His moles. It reminds him of fingertips playfully tapping his face. Of soft comments and pretty compliments, portraits of his own image that he'd never forgotten because they were from you. 

When you hear the hitch in his breath, he swears he feels you smile against him. He's certain, once you shift back down to his neck, to repeat the process all over again. Placing messy kisses onto his soft skin, worshiping the intricacies he would've never thought were admirable. Memorizing each placement as though it's deliberate, like making a map of the night sky's constellations. And Viktor swallows, shakes, softens. 

Blindly, you search for where his hand has been kept at your side. You grasp it, and pursue the natural interlacing of fingers: yours fitting perfectly between the gaps of his. 

Trying not to shudder, failing when your breath fans against the right-angle corner of his jaw, he guides his free hand to trace the small of your back. His fingertips are gentle, hesitant. Careful brushes akin to a study, an exploration. 

With a dizzy mind and even more muddled thoughts, he doesn't expect when you support your weight by placing your knee on his stool, between his legs — when you lean in close and fast and hard, crashing your lips against his once more. One kiss isn't enough, so you kiss him again; you let yourself be pulled in on his current, and he forgoes breathing to drink you in instead. 

Your body arches into his touch, curves when his palm presses flat to your back, attempting to feel as much of you as possible. You want to be pliable beneath his warm hands like clay, because at least being molded would leave an imprint. You'd have something to remember what this meant, what his touch felt like. 

Seconds and minutes bleed into one another. You can barely tell where he begins, and you end. Two halves of the same anatomy, you can feel the thrum of his inherent light beneath your breastbone. 

The Hexcore watches. Pulses, hard enough to make pens begin to roll across the desk. To topple a precarious stack of diagrams, which sends a few papers fluttering to the ground, to make the steel marbles of a Newton's cradle clumsily clink together. 

Neither of you notice. The response Viktor's been searching for spikes just beyond his reach. You make him feel weightless, as though the fragility of his own vessel is more of an afterthought, until he could be ripped into fragments and you would be there to put him back together. Viktor's palm holds the back of your neck, his head tilts with yours, and you kiss. Falling into one another, only unfalling to breathe. Your atoms melt into his particles, blossoming a blur between your two shapes. Your heart pounds with his, to a rhythm so exact they could be mistaken for the same singular beat. 

Finally pulling away requires a mountain's worth of strength and effort. You only do so because you've got Viktor's back pressed hard against the desk, and he's practically about to fall off his chair. 

You both needed to breathe. It takes several moments for your head to stop spinning. You can barely focus on anything, but the bruising of your lips and the skip of your heartbeat. Stumbling back, sliding from his chair to offer him more room, you cup his jaw in both palms. Soft and blissfully tender, as though this is what they were made to hold. 

Viktor sighs hard, gasping heavily. His skin is slightly flushed, still warm to the touch. His gaze stays on you, basking in your afterglow. You're used to him flinching away. A slight hesitation always laces through his fingers when you try to grab his hand. His muscles tense on instinct whenever your arm wraps around him, braced to help support his weight. 

But this time, your palms hold his face, your thumbs brush his skin, and he melts into your touch, unburdened. Gaze fluttery, expression relaxed. Giving in at last, after countless ages of starvation. 

The low light of the lab, and the soft glow of the Hexcore's rune matrix — quiet, now — frame his face in outlines of shadow and hues of cerulean. Shades of blue meld with the honeycomb of his eyes, dulling the color. Clouds over a fading sun. 

He hears the slight shake in your breath first, before he feels a tiny droplet hit his cheek; and you're leaning forward, trying to hide. Eyes shut tight, as you rest your forehead against his. 

"Sorry, I-" Viktor murmurs, weak and faint. So quiet, you almost fail to hear. "I know this does not… fix things." 

Oh. He hasn't seen you cry since you were both kids. 

Viktor remembers clumsily trying to comfort you, making a crude somewhat-flower-pinwheel out of scrap metal as a gift, because he thought it wouldn't fix everything, but it might make things a little bit easier. For a time, anyway. 

Reality is often a cold, cruel overseer. Remembering how to breathe again brings sharp pain into his lungs, it returns an ache to his tired shoulders and his strained leg. His vision comes back into focus, his future returns to taunt him but this time, something is different. 

He feels a spark. A newfound wave of ambition. The radiant golden hour, before a bright, final breakthrough. 

"It's fine," You breathe, weak and fragile, with a meager shrug of your shoulders that says you are anything but. "I didn't expect it to." 

Viktor grasps your chin, gently shifting you back to give him space to look at you. His thumb brushes a stray droplet from your cheek. He tuts: a soft, teasing, tch sound. "Ah, but for a time, the world nearly felt miles away. Did it not?" 

His gaze is hopeful, almost nervous. Trying to gauge any slight shift in your reaction. Thankfully, his voice seems to swiftly bring you back to life. You laugh a bit, wiping the remainder of tears away with the back of your hand; there's the smile he's always admired. 

"Like we were melting into each other," You admit, a little shy, tenderly wistful. Your heart unfurls in your chest like a bright, pretty blossom. It's fitting for the both of you to recollect, to try and analyze the intricacies of every situation. "It was…" 

You're pausing, trying to find the right description, as you rest your arms around his shoulders in something of a half-hug. It was lovely? Captivating? Addicting? 

You shake your head. You're glancing away, because even remembering kissing him is enough to make your heart pound, enough to tempt you to pull him in again. Viktor tilts you back towards him, his finger lightly tapping your jaw. 

"Hm- Breathtaking?" He muses, "Better than you could have dreamed?" 

The brief lilt of confidence he embodies, words smooth as they're carried on his accent, pleasantly reminds you of when he was younger. Far too composed, and eager to prove himself. He follows it through, coaxing you forwards with a palm to your side. You're gentle; most of your weight, you support yourself, until Viktor pulls you down, patiently and decidedly guiding you to settle against his lap. 

"You know," You're cooing, head tilted, "That sounds an awful lot like a confession." 

You can see each subtle heave of Viktor's chest, expanding with every long breath he takes in. It's a tight fit. His stool is barely wide enough to accommodate himself, let alone you. His brace presses into the back of your leg just slightly: jutting metal, protruding bolts. The spread of his thighs leaves you with a small amount of space, but still forces your body to press awfully close to his. 

You're in the perfect position to witness every detail of his face. His tired eyes, the curve of his jaw, the slant of his nose. His thick brows pinch slightly, forming a faux pout, and you reach up. You brush your thumb from his temple to his brow, relishing in the instant softening of his expression. 

"Perhaps it is one. Or, actually-" Viktor hums, inquisitive. "It contains the potential to be one, if I decided to elaborate." 

"Oh? Enlighten me." 

A pause. Viktor bites the inside of his cheek as he ruminates, and your fingertips push fluffy strands of hair from his face to tuck behind his ears. 

"For so long, I… ached to be close to you." His tone is calm, temperate. It twists a shiver up your spine, cool and heaven-sent. His palm trails and caresses your face; a lesson in restraint, as he tries to stop himself from pulling you in once more. "It was a pipe dream. I assumed I was… too late." 

"I thought- I was sure you didn't-" Your shoulders grow tense and the bridge of your nose knots up, you twirl a strand of his hair around your finger and pull it away to admire the resounding curl. "Since when?" 

Viktor exhales. "We have been effectively inseparable since the day we met, I am certain you still remember when the Undercity kids would laugh and- and make jabs at my obvious crush. But, you are searching for something specific. In that case, there is one instance." 

This time, you don't have to ask him to elaborate. 

A palm tracing down the column of your neck, idle yet admiring, Viktor takes one more steady, deep breath. "It was the Progress Day after we had finalized the Hexgates. The council's afterparty was… stifling. I was fortunate to have convinced you to attend. You wore such gorgeous attire. Jayce commented, stated I was unable to take my eyes off of you. I denied it. In hindsight, it was more than obvious." 

The party was hardly your usual scene. Viktor was always the one who wound up convincing you to attend every Progress Day. 

He'd mention you should vouch for your contributions, try to mingle. You were fine with dressing up for an hour or two, but all of the drinking and fraternizing — you found the presentations about new technology to be interesting, but everything to happen afterwards was tiring, to put it bluntly. 

The occasion then was more special than most, though. There was a difference in the way Viktor asked you, sounding hopeful and stress-bound. It seemed important to him, and so it was doubly precious to you. 

"I joined you on the balcony, once I was able to shake the flocks of investors." Viktor continues, thinking, thumbing through all of the details, "You'd been saving a cocktail for me all night, if you remember. Something made with rum- apple cider, I believe." 

Viktor recalls overhearing several of your conversations. Your excitement to show off what you invented together was palpable. You made the room shine, he thinks. He watched you go on and on, when you thought he wasn't listening, assuming he was busy with his own consultations. Viktor zoned out of them, truly. Once the day's festivities are over, the rich folk of Piltover are more interested in finances than progress. 

Your words were so kind. Viktor is amazing, have you met him yet? Every sponsor and socialite would know your partner to be intelligent, inventive, incredible. He doesn't compare. It's funny, how Viktor saw the same qualities in you. 

For most of the night, you were separated; Viktor was busy with the swarm of fancy patrons, all of Piltover's finest hoping to get the latest gossip on what the partner to the Man of Progress would come up with next. Luckily, the both of you chose the same hideaway to try and escape the crowd. 

"I had been waiting for such a moment- to speak with you. You offered me your congratulations. Complimented me, on my performance of the short speech you helped me to memorize. And… so clearly, I remember you said, 'I'm so proud, Viktor. But I knew you could do this.'" 

I knew you could. No underestimations, never a doubt in his potential. You believed in him, even when no-one else did. When there weren't eager investors and a fawning council, just you and him, the suffocating smog of the Undercity, and his foolish dreams. Within the gaps in between, your praises sung as loud, unbidden, echoing strums. 

He supposes he's going to have to ask again for your faith, just one more time. 

Viktor's gaze stays focused down, for a moment. Contemplative, emotional. 

"I almost kissed you right then." He glances up to you, finally. "But-" He hums, then sighs, "There were benefactors still lingering just beyond the balcony, some of which already decided to inquire extensively about my personal life. I would have hated for our first kiss to incite such a scene." 

Viktor admires the tender kindling of gentleness on your face. Slightly pained, despite the hints of softness. It's his cue to find your cheek, to hold you close and oh-so softly like he did from the start; the cliff before the waterfall, his first step in to drown with you. 

Nothing will ever return to simplicity. But Viktor refuses to regret this, decides he should face it head on. Every building conflict, these budding emotions, the remnants of how your lips felt on his; tenderly unforgettable, a crucial step that he refuses to forget. 

You can feel the slight tremble to his fingers, the calluses on his palm — 

"Vik-" 

"I need to have your trust." 

Your eyes widen. 

"Viktor," You're starting again, "You already do- you always have. I don't want you to hesitate, you can-" 

"No, no, the Hexcore," Viktor corrects. He takes a quick glance between you, and the shifting runes of his project's surface. Glowing and fluctuating, a marvel even when it is dormant. "There is much I have not yet told the council. Nor Jayce, nor you." 

A newfound flicker of conviction blazes behind his sun-bound eyes. A brightened enthusiasm to solve any puzzle he's presented with, a key twisted into a door that he never thought would open. 

Your gaze is curious, attentive, then clearly conflicted, and he feels his jaw start to tighten. In spite, he continues, speaks with his entire chest, even though his hands tremor at the thought, and his voice is much too soft and broken and he hates the sound it makes when it's breaking — 

"You are the one thing I cannot lose." Viktor holds your face lovingly, captures you in a statue-like state of devotion, as he fights against the gnawing roughness at the back of his throat. "I believe I can solve this, but I need to know that to any end, you will follow. Please." 

It's something he's already sure of, against the faint threads of doubt in his mind. Of course you would, if he was the one to ask. The both of you are knit together as endlessly as the lines that connect the constellations, he just needs to hear you say it. 

You offer him a weakened smile, your touch brushing the curve of his face like fingertips would caress the arch of a flower's petal. "Do what you think is right. I trust you." 

Viktor softens. 

There's bittersweet catharsis in finally admitting the truth, along with an endless chasm threatening to swallow him whole — and for now, for the rest of the night, at least, he wants nothing more than to fall in with you. 

"My love," He murmurs; he draws you close, with the pull of the sea to the moon. He dares to press one more faint kiss to your cheek, despite knowing how infinitely difficult it will be to pull away. "My inspiration," A kiss to the opposite cheek, then. "My little spark." 

The lab remains quiet, dark, save for the low hum, and the glowing orbit of the Hexcore. Viktor leans his head against your chest, relaxes further once you begin gently toying with his hair. And finally, fully, he allows his heavy eyes to close. 

[gammaraydeath]

HELLO?????????? HELLO?????????? IS ANYONE SEEING THIS???????????????????????????? 1 GAZILLION NOTES ON THIS RIGHT NOW

POV RO SHEPARD INCINERATES YOU 🔥

happy birthday @gammaraydeath!!! ♡︎ mwah!

[tobeholyistobeempty]

the wreckage of ruination. | simon ghost riley

the one where simon comes home from deployment.

“Does this,” he sucks at your throat again, all teeth and tongue and it’s violent just like every breath he manages. “Feel gentle to you, love?”

WARNINGS - 18+ smut mdni. reader afab. simon essentially finding therapy in your pussy. heavy topics. rough sex. size kink. denied orgasm. a whole lot of simon riley psychoanalysis. a few sleep token references. a ton of religious undertones. piv. fingering. im gonna be honest chat idk if im horny or sobbing after this one.

It’s quarter past one when the front door swings open, and you pause with a dish towel in hand — listening as it slams closed again with enough force you half expected to hear the sound of shattered glass following it. Next comes the footsteps, though you already felt those, the dull thud of boots dragging across carpeted floorboards with the type of heavy set gait you could detect with your eyes closed. And then, there’s the rustling —the faint sound of a belt buckle unfastening.

Fuck.

It’s all you can think as he rounds the corner with a slow exhale, standing there in all the shadows of the early morning hour. Your eyes meet, and you see it there in all of its familiarity — the hunger.

It’s a languid look that he gives you, but one you know all too well. The kind that burns with intention backing it. The kind that turns the usual brown of his irises to something molten. A bonfire raging amidst the ashes. Inspiring the familiar sensation low in your gut that spreads through your nervous system like an infection. Sickly. You’d think it was a perfect description — because the next symptom is a tightness in your chest, one that comes robbing your lungs as you rake your eyes over him.

And it’s his hands, of all things, that really get you. The raw, crimson knuckles. Split from months of use. Battered by the wreckage of ruination — remnants of violence still fresh on his skin.

You wonder, stupidly, if he even notices the way you stare. Soaking in the lean lines of his torso. Studying the way his muscles shift beneath his skin with each inhale and ex. The way his dog tags sit against the hollow of his collarbones. The way his shirt sleeves are taut around the sinew bulging against his biceps. You wonder if he knows you can see the aftermath of the past few months in his eyes, the adrenaline still thrumming through him so violently it makes your bones ache.

When he steps forward, you know you have your answer.

“Nightgown.” His voice is a rasp. Gaze busy pinning silk to your skin. “Y’making this easier n’ easier f’me.”

You swallow the shock factor and smile while digesting it. He’s in front of you now. Close enough to feel the heat of him.

“Missing the chase, Si?” A tilt of your head, a tease in your tone. “I could run if you’d like.”

“Y’wouldn’t dare.” He all but hisses — two massive paws grasping your hips to tug you into him. There’s a breath as his mouth finds your hair, and then he inhales. “Much prefer y’right here. Like this.”

And it’s that simple admission, the one tucked behind the few extra syllables and whispered into the strands of your hair that has you leaping for a breath all over again. That has you forcing your sight to meet his with something a little too close to hope blinking in your chest.

“You feeling gentle?” You ask, and immediately wish you hadn’t.

Because his reaction is immediate. An answer in itself. And you’re not sure if it was the question on its own or the way you sounded asking it — but he’s catching your jaw in a grip just shy of bruising, forcing your eyes to hold the darkness in his. Then, he’s leaning in, breath brushing against your cheek, jaw, throat — growing back his sharpest teeth as he nips, tongue lavving out to soothe the sting in what you know is his crafted offering of mercy in a moment where he’s unable to provide much else.

“Does this,” he sucks at your throat again, all teeth and tongue and it’s violent just like every breath he manages. “Feel gentle to you, love?”

It doesn’t. It never has been on the nights he returns and you know this. So you take it for the warning sign it is and inhale the adrenaline permeating the air around you — offering him the closest thing to an answer you know he’ll ever need. Within seconds he’s crashing his mouth to yours with force nothing shy of feral. Wild and demanding, unhinged in the way you know he needs right now because this is how it goes on the night of his return. The beginning of his resurgence — ascension from the depths of the hollow he’d carved himself to be.

After all the war and destruction and damage he inflicts, you are his redoing. So you let him take, in whatever form he needs to, as he swallows everything you give and uses it to feel whole again.

You’re crushed against the counter next, and then he’s lifting you onto it — thick fingers fumbling for the edge of your nightgown as he presses between your thighs, kissing you hard all the while. You can all but taste the desperation on his tongue, the kind fuelled by lust and violence and everything else he needs to draw on just to find himself buried inside you in some capacity. It doesn’t matter to you much which way he chooses. You’ll take it all the same. And that, to him, means the world. The kind of catharsis he can’t get anywhere else.

He fists your hair, jerking your neck back as another hand trails up the heat of your thigh. You squirm and he bites your bottom lip for it, enough to make you squeak. You wonder then, as he drags his tongue along the hurt, how it can be as brutal and rough as it is while still feeling like something you can’t quite name. Something that makes you burn with the very same need.

When he kisses you, it’s like he’s trying to break you. When you kiss him back, it’s like you’re trying to mend him.

He pulls back then, just long enough to shrug out of his shirt — the muscles of his tatted chest gleaming under the low light of the overheads. He’s scarred. Bruised. A little bloodied. But he’s a beautiful mess. One you can’t force yourself to look away from because it’s here that he’s his most vulnerable — it’s here that he’s as beautiful and as dangerous as he will ever allow you to see.

The only time you catch glimpses of the ghosts etched into his irises.

“Never gets easier.” He mutters, both hands smoothing up your thighs now. “Gets harder each time.”

You know he’s talking about this. The way he comes home with the weight of the world on his shoulders, the bloodshed and horrors of what he’s seen still too fresh to call memories. You know. But still—

“Harder how, baby.” You breathe against his lips as he tugs your nightgown up around your waist.

It takes him a moment to speak, and you allow him all of it. In your time together, you’ve come to realize Simon Riley isn’t a man of many words. But when he does speak, you memorize every breath and syllable.

“Harder t’leave.” He admits, and you shiver at the words — or maybe at the fact his fingers are reaching up your thighs now, in search of the heat between them. “Harder t’come home. Harder t’be gentle like y’deserve.”

You close your eyes at that, wrapping your arms around his neck as those same thick fingers find your slit, and soak in the slick there. You let out a whimper, and he brings his lips to your temple, all while you turn those words over in your mind in search of their frontfaced meaning.

To anyone else, that might sound conflicting. But you’re not anyone else. You knew Simon before you knew Ghost — though in learning about him, many unanswered things made sense. You knew that there was always something stuck in the back of Simon’s throat that he could never quite swallow. Something thick. Something unmoving like grief. And you think, rather aimlessly through the pleasure he starts pouring into you, that after all the days and weeks and months he spends going through hell — for him, coming home has always been the harder part.

And there’s something poetic about that, beneath it all. The fact that even after all of it, he can still find it in himself to give you the remnants — the fractured remains of himself that are still in their infancy.

That he can be honest with you, in this way of his making. Letting you into the space beneath his mask.

So you moan. A sound of reward as he teases your clit. “S’good, Si.”

“No,” he whispers, swirling in easy strokes. “M’not good, love. Never have been.”

And that, you know he believes.

He’s a man made by violence. A weapon forged by war, by destruction, by the world that tried to break him just to turn him into the thing it fears most. To them, he’s destruction made flesh. But to you, he’s your salvation made in ink. And despite his best efforts, despite what he’ll always think, your Simon is so much more than he thinks he is. So much more than he’s ever been given credit for.

And you’ll tell him that. Over and over and over again if he wants you to.

“You are so good, Si.” You whinge, hips jerking to his touch. “You are so fucking good.”

There’s a moment, until there’s a hum. “Just as well. It’s not the good in men that keeps em’ aimin’ straight.”

He murmurs, almost to himself, and you know he’s not looking for a response. He’s unloading. Because it’s his truth. And everyone has a truth of their own. You try not to let him see how much his hurts you — the way he thinks his worth is based solely on the man he is behind the mask.

“It’s the men who try,” you mutter against his lips. “And despite your best efforts, sweetheart, you try so damn hard.”

His finger slips inside of you, slow. Like he’s making a point to prove you right. Like he’s showing you he can be good and gentle and patient. All the things he thinks you need him to be.

When you hiss at the stretch, his lips twitch and he pushes in another. “F-fuck, Si.”

You clench around him, and he exhales. “S’fucken’ tight f’me.”

You nod against his forehead, with barely a lung of breath.

“I missed this, you know. This feeling.” You roll your hips against his hand, taking his digits deeper, revelling in the way his cock throbs against your stomach. “This feeling I get when you come home with that wild look in your eyes. Like you’re too dangerous to be around if you’re not inside me.”

He nods, lips twitching again as he pulls back slightly to watch you. Watch his hand work you open with a crease in his brow — with a clench in his jaw that only intensifies as his other hand grips your hair too tight to be soft. You know he thinks you need this — the preamble. You know it’s taking every fucking bloody shred of his sanity to give it. But you don’t want him to be thinking about you right now.

This night, above all else, is about him.

“You’re breaking.” You choke with a smile — just to needle him — and that’s all it takes for his patience to crack.

Your nails drag against his shoulders when he pulls you off the counter — arms winding around his neck as he maneuvers you through the darkness of your living room. And it’s then that you realize you forgot just how strong he is. How the walk from the kitchen to the sofa only seems to take a few steps because he’s carrying you over his shoulder like you weigh less than the bag he left at the door.

He tosses you down onto the couch with a force that knocks the air from your lungs — not giving you a chance to gasp for a replacement before he’s rucking your nightgown up and spreading your legs wide as he settles between them. You watch as he works at his zipper, tugging down his pants just enough to free himself — cock all twitching and glistening with the same need that’s blaring through the rest of him. He strokes it a few times, watching you watch him — watching your hunger meet his in the middle.

“M’breaking, sweet’eart.” He’s growling, that’s the only way to describe it. Deep inflection rolling over you like rain. “But so are you.”

And then, he’s pushing in — burying himself inside the struggling wet walls of your cunt with a force that makes you cry out, back arching toward his chest as he leans over you — caging you under him with two strong forearms on either side of your head. The feeling is rendering. Euphoric in its agony. Thick head working you back open after months of thinking your own small fingers sufficed. But nothing compares to this. Each time a little like the first time — the only difference is back then he let you adjust, gave you all the time in the world to whine and cry about it.

You know that’s not the case now.

He’s selfish, like this. A thing of beauty. This man made from the earth you’ve claimed. A brutal kind of beautiful that most admire from a distance. Wolfish. Best to be kept at arms length — so rough and rabid he could eat you whole if he let himself. But instead, all he wants is this.

“Fuck.” He grunts into your hair as he bottoms out, snug against your cervix. “Gets tighter every fucken’ time.”

It’s a compliment, unspoken in the way he threads his fingers through your strands — because it’s the only way he knows how to handle everything he is. Because violence is second nature when being kind is so hard to come by. Because he’s learned that the only way he can exist is in the middle ground of it.

And fuck, if you don’t love him for it. The trying.

“N’you—ah—g-get bigger—“ you mumble, all exasperation and lust.

“Y’like that, yeah, pretty girl?” His voice is a deep rasp in your ear, a hint of the beast in his tone as he grinds deep. “Like how it feels when I fill you, s’fuckin deep.”

He bites down on your throat when you try to answer him and whatever you were going to say becomes a moan instead. Breathing. It’s all you can focus on as he draws out and then slides home — stretching you to an almost painful point as he pulls his hips back to do it again, his grip tight enough that it makes you wonder if his fingertips will bruise your skin the same way they do everything else he touches.

“Mmmfuck, Si—“ you hiss as he sets a desperate pace, each devastating thrust making you see all the stars in the heavens and then some. “G-god—“

He nods, even though mumbling the name of god right now is ironic at best. There’s no god for men like Simon. Something he’s long come to terms with and knows he no longer needs because you — you are his salvation. His safe haven. And you’ll help him rebuild himself, placing each of those broken pieces back together with all the benevolence of the most graceful god — even if it burns your hands to cinder in the process.

It’s an addiction — your addiction, his addiction, a feverish kind of thing made of violence and love in the same breath. Something that somedays you know you’d die for. You’d die for the fire he brings to life inside your soul. And you can tell by the way he holds you that he knows it, too. Your name a broken incantation on his lips like you’re a prayer. Like you’re his deity — the only one who ever made him believe in something greater than himself.

“Fucken’ missed you.” He buries his face in your hair as he says it, pace slowing, two digits searching for the mess between your legs and swirling. “Oh yeah. Missed y’so fucken’ much.”

It almost hurts, how your breath stutters in your chest — how you hips jerk up to meet where his fingers bully your clit.

“I—fuck. I missed you too.” You wail, climax dragged to the edge of your consciousness as he thrusts in slow and deep. “Ohfuck. Si m’gonna—c-cum—“

He grunts in your ear, the way he only does when he’s trying to regain control — and you know without words that he isn’t going to give you what you need just yet.

Instead, he pulls back — his tip just barely nudging at your entrance a moment before he’s tugging your knees to your chest and slamming back into you deeper than you’d thought possible. It’s so much, and it’s almost too much when he stills. You cling to him, whimpering like he’s stolen a limb with how he takes a second to just wait before he leans back over you — forcing himself that much deeper, lips going to the tip of your ear where the shell meets the edge of the cartilage.

“Not yet.” He mutters. “You’ll end me.”

It’s all a haze then, your consciousness a fragmented thing as he uses you to rebuild. As he uses you to heal the invisible wounds that war has left on his body and on his soul. Every thrust of his hips is an effort to force out the rage and replace it with something that can be good. That can hold you with open palms rather than crush you with clenched fists.

And you know, for all that he is — it’s a miracle then, to love him so freely.

“S-simon—“ you’re babbling, shins tucked to your chin as he ruts deep into you. Every thrust shoving you that much closer. “C-can’t—n-need to—“

“Go on then,” he grunts, reaching up to grasp your hair again. “Y’can—“

And he’s leaning closer still, until there’s not a single inch between you and your lips are brushing — frenzied breaths mingling hot in your mouth.

“But m’gonna right after you.” He punctuates it with a devastating punch to your cervix. “Got months t’give you, sweet’eart.”

You almost scream then, the sound echoing in the dark of the room and it seems to ignite something in him. A match to a kindling. His hand tightening in your hair as he thrusts in hard to the hilt over and over and over again. You’ve never seen him shake this hard. Never seen the way his eyes search yours like he’s memorizing everything you could mean. The way they hold you in yours, making you feel seen in ways you’ve never fathomed. And you think, then, even while the pace at which he drives into you is frenzied, vicious — not even giving you time to draw a breath before he’s slamming back inside — you’ve never been so fucking inlove with the entirety of him. All his broken and all his beautiful. His raw and his vulnerable. His spoken and his unspoken.

And it’s with that thought, that your orgasm bludgeons you across the chest — and you’re clenching and cumming around him, coming face to face with the stars you know he’d dragged down for you.

“S-si! Ohfuck—ohyes—“

He groans. “Mm. That’s it. S’good. S’fucken’ good f’me.”

And when he follows you down to the depths of them, it’s your name that he breathes — a ragged thing that sounds so sweet coming off his tongue you’d think it was sugar — spilling the months of pent up need deep into your bullied cunt, teeth barring against the edge of his lip as it’s ripped from him by the sheer force of yours.

And then, it’s quiet again. Nothing but your heavy breaths to mark the stillness. Your eyes find his in the low light — and you know then, that the storm has passed. He shifts so your legs can wrap around his waist before he cages you under him again — forearms under your neck as he holds you there, softening inside you.

“Fuck.” The exhale. The emergence.

“Welcome home.” You whisper it, and it holds every word you could ever manage.

It’s a while before he speaks. And when he does, it’s rough. The word he gives you is simple, but it means everything — the weight of his soul beneath it like an ancient thing.

“Home.”

[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.

[witchywcmans]

PLEASE, EAT. | LAIOS TOUDEN

synopsis ━━ after you've been bitten by a sea serpent, you know the consequences are either death or the possibility of turning into one yourself. thankfully for you, laios touden is the devourer of all things monster and he is dedicated to getting that venom out of you. (laios x f!reader.)

content warnings ━━ sex pollen-adjacent, cunnilingus + fingering, praise, breath play (kinda, if you squint), semi-public sex, multiple orgasms. nsfw (minors + ageless blogs dni).

word count ━━ 3k

song inspiration ━━ too sweet, hozier / more than friends, isabel larosa

author's note ━━ this is the first time I've ever written and posted an x reader one-shot on here, so please be gentle with me lol. I usually only write x oc fics bc I'm a yapper and I love creating characters. but alas...I was perusing the laios x reader tag and wanted to read something with this plot, couldn't find it, so I figured I'd just do it myself 🫡

🪽 part i: PLEASE, EAT. / part ii: FORBIDDEN FRUIT. / part iii: TOO SWEET.

This was definitely one of the worst situations you’d been in.

You had joined Laios’ adventuring party just a few months prior. They had found you on floor 3 of the dungeon, shivering and mourning the loss of your father. His body, dead in your arms, and beside him lay the lifeless body of a ghoul you had killed. At first, the party’s leader, Laios Touden, had only been interested in taking the ghoul's body so they could use its bones for utensils after the flesh rotted off. But it was Marcille who noticed the tears in your eyes, how you trembled from the cold, and suggested they take you in. You almost declined, not wanting to leave your father’s body, but knowing he’d soon turned into a monster left you with only one option. Your father had been with you for the past twenty-five years of your life, and now, you were leaving his dead body in a dungeon to travel with a group of strangers.

You soon came to appreciate your new party, though, and you felt your father’s spirit within each of them. Marcille had his kindness, Chilchuck had a comparable wit, Senshi was gifted with excellent cooking skills, and Laios … well, you were still figuring that out. And surprisingly, it was Laios who you began to connect with the most. His knowledge of monsters was unmatched, and he had a passion for learning how to prepare them while they traveled deeper into the dungeon. He was overtly blunt, much like you, and possessed similar advanced fighting skills due to both your fathers' teachings.

Sometimes … sometimes though, you found yourself staring at him more than you should have. His face was abnormally perfect, as if he’d been carved by an artist. His tousled ash-blonde hair reminded you of a lion, and his eyes … sometimes you could’ve sworn they were made out of gold, shimmering like molten lava. Each time you thought this way, you smacked yourself when no one else was looking. I mean, Laios was your friend, your party leader. Having a crush, especially in circumstances like these, was unethical. You had always been focused on one thing: helping your party and making it out of this dungeon alive, for your father. You wouldn’t let a little crush deter you.

Everything had been all well and good until today, when you and your party reached the end of floor 4. When Laios had struggled to fight off a sea serpent, you joined him in the lukewarm water, using your crossbow to shoot the creature in the head. Finally, Laios was able to step in to slice the serpent’s head off … but not before the creature could snap its jaw, tearing one fang down your hip. You jumped back, screaming as you felt the venom seep into you instantly. Some said sea serpent venom would kill you immediately, others said it turned you into one of them, cursing you to haunt the waters with them as penance. As soon as the head was cut, Laios carried you away from the water, and the last thing you heard was Marcille cursing him out before you were rendered unconscious. 

You were woken up – hours, maybe days later – by a drop of water hitting your face every few seconds. Lifting your head from the makeshift tunic pillow, you took in your surroundings. You were at the entrance of floor 5, in a damp corner of cobblestone, while water dripped down onto the floor every so often. There was a moist bandage covering your side where the serpent’s fang had cut into you, part of your tunic ripped to shreds. Hunger boiled in your stomach, making you groan and rub your head. Laios was sitting just a few feet away, a small fire in front of him to keep warm. Marcille had to have helped him with that; there was no way to craft a fire in an area this damp.

“Am I dead?” You asked softly. 

Laios immediately turned in your direction, his mouth lifting in a smile. “Of course not.”

Your stomach did flip flops as you took in his smile, hunger consuming you. You needed something to eat – bad. Your body felt hot and sweaty, and you wondered if it was just from the humidity, even though Laios didn’t look affected. Sitting up, you informed him, “Well, that was one of two options my father said would happen from a sea serpent bite. Which means …” You lifted the bandage up, noticing the gills that started to form on the healing wound. A turquoise hue surrounded the gills, almost like a bruise. “Oh, fuck,” you muttered.

Laios stood, looming over you while asking, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s the other option,” you replied, too hungry to cry. “The bite is –”

“– Turning you into a sea serpent,” Laios finished. “Honestly, I thought that was just a myth. But when the bite didn’t kill you …” His mouth twitched, tongue darting out to wet the corners of his lips. “We have to suck the venom out. That has to stop the mutation.”

Your head snapped up. “Huh?” 

But as soon as your eyes met his, you started to wondered if what you were experiencing was hunger after all. Perhaps … a different kind of hunger. Laios stared down at you, the sparkling gold replaced by a dark hazel. It was just you two in this little corner of the dungeon, but you suddenly felt exposed, so naked, under his gaze. Your body was hot all over, sweat sticking to uncomfortable places. And your thighs … a burning need emerged between them, soaking the thin linen of your undergarments. This had to be a symptom of the bite, but it suddenly didn’t matter anymore. Your worry had been replaced by an ache that only he could fix.

No – absolutely not. You couldn’t. You shouldn’t. You were turning into a sea serpent.

But the need between your legs still throbbed.

“It’s like when a snake bites you on the surface,” Laios said, crouching down to your eye level. His closeness made your heart rate pick up. You realized then that he had shed his armor, kneeling in front of you in just his gambeson, which clung to his muscles and wide frame. “A sea serpent is part snake. Sucking out the venom should stop the mutation. You’ll probably experience symptoms from the bite for a few more hours, but they’ll stop eventually.” 

He started to peel back the bandage, taking a look at the gills forming on your hip when you gripped his wrist. Immediately, his skin burned, making you even more hot. You ripped your hand away from him, and with sweat trickling down the side of your face, you said, “Don’t you think this is … weird? Maybe Marcille should do it.”

“Marcille and the others just went back to another part of the level to find dinner. They won’t return for an hour, at least. This can’t wait.” He inspected the turquoise gills with concern, before his eyes snapped back to yours, noticing the way your black pupils filled almost the entire iris. “Do you not trust me?”

“Of course, I trust you. It’s just …” What exactly was the reason again? Oh, yes, it was pulsating hunger dripping between your legs from the bite, and you were terrified how you’d react the second his lips wrapped around your wound. The symptoms would just get worse. But he was right – this was the only way. Fuck, this had to be the most embarrassing thing you’d ever experienced. 

“Fine,” you finally relented, lying back down on the cobblestone. You did your best to get comfortable, but the makeshift pillow hardly provided much cushion between you and the floor.  “What should I do?”

“Nothing, just lay back and let me take care of it.” Laios lifted your tunic a smidge, and just the tenor of his voice made your ache even worse. “We’re just gonna … get this out of the way. And then …” His fingers hooked on the waistband of your pants, and you immediately clutched his collar. If you touched his skin again, you were sure to moan.

Laios looked from where your hand was gripping him and back to your eyes. “Your pants need to be off so I can have better access to the mutation. It’s on your hip.” You swallowed hard, knowing he was right, and your hand started to slip off his collar. “We’re friends, right?” He asked.

You nodded weakly.

“Good,” he smiled again, and you struggled to hold back a plea for him to touch you. He pulled down your pants, tossing them to the side. For a moment, he paused, taking in your soaked underwear and running his fingers over the mutation on your hip. He licked his lips again, and then said in a rather blunt tone, “You’re so –”

“Don’t say it,” you cut in, snapping your eyes shut to prevent further embarrassment.  Though you had never minded Laois’ occasional lack of social cues, this was one of those moments you needed anything but. “Just get the venom out.”

Laios tugged your underwear down a little to see if the mutation had spread. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he informed you, lowering his head to your hip. “I’ve read that these bites can have a multitude of internal symptoms. Nightmares ... sweating … fever …” He ran his tongue over the gills, making your breath hitch instantly. “… And especially, arousal. Neat, huh?” He chuckled, and just his warm breath on the gills made you even more wet. “Don’t worry, I got you,” he assured before finally wrapping his mouth on the wound.

Your body burned even hotter than before as soon as his lips touched your skin. He sucked the venom out of you, spitting out blue globs every other second. His hands gripped your side, digging into your flesh and leaving crescent shapes from his nails. As you felt the gills start to close up, you couldn’t help but moan and arch into nothing. This felt better than any time you masturbated … any time you imagined your party leader above you … Fuck, who would’ve thought sucking sea serpent venom out of you would feel this good? Thank the gods the rest of their party was off catching dinner. You couldn’t deal with them possibly hearing this.

It surprised you when your orgasm flooded through you like a crashing wave. As Laios finished sucking out the last of the venom and the mutation closed, your arousal came to a definite peak and you let out a whine. You grabbed his arm, cumming from absolutely no stimulation.

Laios didn’t seem to mind though. In fact, he was mostly preoccupied with inspecting the area. You opened your eyes, your cheeks tinged pink, and saw the globs of venom to the left dissipate to nothing but water. You pinched the bridge of your nose, “I’m sorry, I –”

“The mutation closed. I was right!” Laios looked down at you, a big grin covering his face. “How do you feel?”

“Well, I definitely don’t feel a second set of lungs on my hip anymore.” You lifted your hand when you noticed a trickle of blue staining his lip, wiping it away with your thumb. “But I … my body is still …” The ache inside you had simmered slightly, but it was still there, lingering underneath the surface. 

This was genuinely humiliating. Maybe you should’ve just decided to turn into a sea serpent after all.

Laios grabbed your wrist before you could pull away from his face. He leaned into your palm, running his long nose down to your inner wrist. “Your skin is so warm. I can still smell how aroused you are from the serpent bite.” His eyes burned into yours, keeping your hand close to his face. “I can help. Do you need another release?”

Your cheeks got even more red when he acknowledged your orgasm. Shaking your head, you said, “I couldn’t ask you to do that. I can just –”

“I’d be honored to,” he replied, quite gruffly and persistent. His fingers tugged your underwear down with precision and ease, despite the damp fabric clinging to you. He spread your legs wide and placed them on his shoulders. Lowering himself down, he inhaled the scent of your climax and hooked his arms around your inner thighs. He smiled up at you – your pretty face red with embarrassment – all dopey-eyed and grateful. “You lot like to call me the devourer of monsters. Perhaps I should devour the last bit of monster out of you.”

He inhaled again, groaning like he typically did when he was hungry. His hot breath against your achingly wet pussy made you whimper with desperation. “You smell so good down here,” he whispered. “I’d wager you taste even better.”

You gasped as soon as he dove between your legs, licking a stripe through your folds, tasting your recent orgasm. He flicked his tongue over your clit before sucking on it with feverish excitement. Slick gathered on his tongue and he whined, needing more. So much more. You were the most delicious meal he’d ever tasted. Better than any monster, better than anything on the surface. 

“So good,” he muttered into your pussy, lapping against your clit, doing anything that would get him more of your arousal. “You taste so, so good.”

You whimpered out his name and attempted to close your legs, but he held them opened with all his strength. His arms wrapped around your thighs went tight, bruising the sensitive flesh. Your jaw went slack while your own hands scrambled for purchase, eventually landing in his cropped hair. You tugged, hips bucking against his face, making him groan even more. This allowed him to hold your hips a little higher, and his tongue finally dipped into your leaking entrance. You heard him grunt the second he plunged his tongue deeper, his nose nuzzling your clit. 

He devoured you like a starved man. He devoured you like you were a boiled scorpion, or roast basilisk, or – even better – like sweet, delicious homemade cheesecake. 

“Laios,” you whined, feeling your fever dissolve with each lap of his tongue. “Laios, it’s … fuck – it’s okay, I feel –”

“Need more,” he muttered, his voice low and laced with need. He was practically humping the stone floor as he buried his tongue as far as it could go inside you. Your hips couldn’t stop bucking forward, riding his face as you felt your orgasm building at the base of your stomach. Laios was completely transfixed. He wanted to be here, nestled between your thighs, for every meal. He’d take you away from the rest of the group before dinner, lapping away to the sounds of your pleas and whimpers, so help him gods. He’d do this every day, every night, whenever you wanted, for as long as he was alive. Fuck monsters. He could survive off the taste of you for the rest of his life.

Slipping his tongue out of your hole, he went back to sucking on your throbbing clit and feeling your legs start to tremble. You had to be close to another release, and he was desperate to taste it. He paid all his attention on your clit, snaking one hand up and sinking two fingers knuckle-deep into your entrance in tandem. “Fuck,” you moaned, tugging on his hair once again, “fuck – gods, Laios. I – I’m s-so close –”

“Please,” he begged, smearing your slick all over his mouth. “Please, you’re so good. Need to see how you taste when you release on my tongue.” His own hips continued to buck against the floor.

You choked on a cry when you finally came all over his tongue. He groaned, loud and drawn out, when he finally got a taste of your sweet climax, knowing that it was him that brought you to this point. The orgasm felt long, like the ocean bringing you in and out, and your whole body trembled. He continued lapping at your clit as it pulsed under his tongue, his fingers curling inside you through your orgasm. When you finally breathed out and started to come down from the high of it all, Laios stayed between your thighs, allowing his tongue to gently swirl your clit. Maybe if he continued, he could taste a little more of you …

You found your voice, hoarse from overstimulation. “Laios, please, you have to stop,” you begged, yanking his head up from between your legs. His mouth was covered in your slick, and then he was giving you that dopey expression again, making your heart clench. Your body was no longer hot and sweaty. Laios had completely cured you of the sea serpent bite with that expert mouth of his. He unwound his arms from your thighs, bringing his fingers that were still covered with your wetness to his mouth, tasting the last of your orgasm. You watched him, eyes wide and cheeks blushing, until he was looking at you again with those golden doe eyes.

“That was amazing,” he said, like he was in a haze. When your eyes flickered down, you realized he was hard in his pants, but it wasn’t like he even noticed himself with the way he was staring at you. “We should do that again sometime.”

He stood up, and you scrambled to pull your clothes back on before the group came back. You stammered, “It’s okay, uh – we don’t have to. Especially if you don’t want to. We could just –”

“I want to,” he cut in, a determined look in his eyes. “What are friends for, right?” 

[perfectyeager]

|| WHO..?; Eren Yeager

|| SYNOPSIS..?; Plug!Eren fucks his innocent girlfriend.

|| WARNINGS..?; 18+ MDNI. Smut.

EREN YEAGER was a well-known dealer in the area. a tall, mysterious, often hot-headed drug dealer — someone you definitely wouldn’t wanna mess with unless you planned on getting shot.

so, when you, a perfect little pink princess angel was seen with eren’s tattooed arm around your shoulders and your bag in his hand — everyone was shocked to say the least.

you were pretty, quiet, intelligent, came from a good family background, never missed a day of college or any homework, never smoked or did drugs, and the only alcohol you’d ever had was a sip of your mother’s gin & tonic and you hated it.

you were the complete opposite to eren.

you were innocent.

but somehow you were drawn to him.

you had met at a party your friend mikasa dragged you too — someone he’d known from childhood and you bonded over your mutual friend. eren knew he liked you from the moment he set eyes on your uncomfortable frame amongst your drunk and high friends at the party. you got on very well much to eren’s surprise and he vowed from that moment on to protect you no matter what.

so, you hung out more & more and you grew to love each other. eren asked you to be his girlfriend at a fancy dinner — a pretty bracelet in a velvet box being accompanied by the sweet words, bringing tears to your eyes as you couldn’t help but kiss his face as you cried against him, whispering ‘yes’ a thousand times as you covered him in your lipstick.

you cherished eren and treated him with the utmost kindness and respect a man deserved. you always put him first and devoted your life to making sure he was happy. and eren protected you with his life — literally. he would take a bullet to the brain for you, not caring that he’d never wake up again, if only you were happy and safe. you were the only woman he’d ever truly loved, and therefore he never wanted anything bad to ever happen to you. n he spoilt you like a princess, his drug money making sure your nails were never bare, as long as he could pick the design here and there, and your hair looked freshly done and perfect and any outfit or meal you wanted was paid for by him.

eren never pushed you into anything, he knew where you stood with his life and what he did, but he knew you’d never stop him from making his money the way he did. he knew you hated that he sold & did drugs but he reassured you with his life that he would never ever put you in danger or make you unhappy. he’d give it up if you were genuinely upset about it — but he knew you weren’t that petty to make him change his life that much just for you.

he also never pushed you to like his friends — who had the same values as him. so, when you met them all for the first time, you could tell you were definitely the elephant in the room, as a little princess like you stood out amongst all the drugs user thugs themselves.

“ guys, this my girl i’ve been tellin’ you ‘bout.” eren introduced, a sweet smirk on his face, as he smiled down at you, arm around your waist as you stood before a few of his friends.

smoke filled the air as they all smoked their individual joints, all in similar dress to eren and all tatted up — you, in a short, pretty pink dress, frilly socks and comfy trainers and your hair in a high ponytail held together by a pink scrunchie.

“ hi, nice to meet you.” you smiled sweetly, waving your manicured hand, eren smiling as he caught a glimpse of the initial ‘E’ on your ring finger.

one day he’d convince you to get it tatted — not yet though.

connie was the first to speak, standing up, brushing the ash off his jeans to force his hand into yours in a handshake, “nice to meet ya, pretty, ‘m connie. we’ve heard a lotta ‘bout you.”

“watch it” eren warned, shooting connie a glare at the compliment he weaved into his words.

connie only chuckled, retreating back to his seat as you giggled quietly at eren’s possessiveness.

next to greet you was a tall, mullet-headed man named jean who only offered a nod and a quiet hello — someone you knew eren had had issues with in the past and knew not to overstep the line when it came to his girl. after jean came reiner, a muscular blonde who was the sweetest of the bunch.

“nice to meet you — i hear you’re making our eren very happy.” he smiled, blowing smoke from between his pink lips.

“i hope so.” you mumbled nervously, “i love him a lot.”

eren could’ve fallen to his knees and cried at the way you looked up at him with such pure adoration and devotion in your eyes after saying the sweetest words any girl had ever said about him.

“y’know you do, baby.” eren spoke, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

“you’re not his usual type so i am surprised.”

“shut ya fucking mouth, kirstein.” you nearly flinched at the pure hatred in eren’s voice as his head snapped towards jean who only smirked evilly.

“what? a man’s not allowed to speak the truth anymore, or ‘sum?” jean laughed, “no offence, sweetheart, but yeager usually goes for more..experienced bitches, y’know?”

connie kissed his teeth loudly as reiner sighed, knowing exactly what was coming. a frown appeared on your face as jean’s words hit your ears, feeling suddenly uncomfortable at jean’s insinuation.

“so, just don’t get too comfortable, darlin’, cuz he’s likely to leave ya for some other bitch that actually knows how ta act her age.”

“i’d shut up, kirstein.” connie warned, a knowing smile on his face as if he was enjoying this.

you could feel eren was tense from how his hand gripped your waist and how you could hear him grinding his teeth together in anger.

you hated seeing eren like that. you just wanted him to be happy.

“well i’m sorry, jean, b-but eren loves me and me only just as i am and that’s not going to change so you’ll just h-have to get used to it.”

your heart hammered in your chest as adrenaline flowed through your veins — swallowing thickly as the words left your dry throat. your hand flew to eren’s against your waist as you gripped his fingers, reminding him that you were there with him.

jean’s face dropped as he expected eren to give him a piece of his mind — he wasn’t expecting your shaky voice to greet his ears.

eren, though, could’ve cum on the spot. you, defending him against horse-face…? jeeeesus that was fucking good to hear.

“daaaaaamn, kirstein, get told you asshole.” connie laughed, slapping his knee as reiner smiled against the joint between his lips.

jean kissed his teeth, “man fuck you.”

“nah fuck you, bro” connie fought back, “bein’ nasty to eren’s girl for no damn reason, fuckin’ cunt.”

“oh shut ya fuckin’ mouth, springer — “

“go wait in the car for me, sweetheart.” eren whispered down at you, his voice taking over your brain from the boys argument, his large hand cupping your cheek lovingly as he slid his car keys into your petite hand.

you nodded and did as he asked, blocking out the argument as you retreated out the room, offering reiner a polite, yet awkward smile. you knew trouble was underway as eren’s name being called in desperation muffled through the walls of connie’s apartment as you hurried down the stairs.

eren often got like that if you were disrespected by anyone. didn’t matter if he was in the room, if he knew them or not, if the person who said it was online or if they were 1000 miles away — eren had to fuck them up until they were on the brink of death for upsetting his perfect girl.

you had waited in his obnoxiously big mercedes for what felt like half an hour as you anxiously picked at your nails, your eyes glancing down at his initial — worry filling your tummy. but, alas, your boyfriend emerged from the apartment complex in a state you weren’t surprised at.

sweaty, flushed cheeks, strands of hair flying from his bun, bruised and bloody knuckles and chest heaving angrily.

“‘rennie.” you whispered as he flung himself into the car, slamming the door. your sweet, loving hands coming to touch his cheek.

if it were anyone else, eren would’ve flipped his lid at anyone touching him. but you? no. he craved your touch right now. more than anything. i mean he was practically melting at the touch of your small palm on his face.

he turned his head to press a long, loving kiss to the palm of your hand, eyes closed as if to savour the feeling of your skin on his lips.

“‘m sorry for keepin’ you, baby.” eren whispered, quickly turning on the ignition and pulling out of the parking space, “let’s go home, yeah?”

you merely nodded, offering him a reassuring smile as he drove away, slightly more erratic than normal due to his heightened mood — but he knew not to take it too far as you were in the car with him. as you know, he’d never ever put you in danger.

eren remained in a mood for the rest of the day. never showing it fully to you as to not upset you, but you could tell he was still bothered by what jean had said.

“eren?”

“wassup, beautiful” eren’s monotone voice filled your ears as you watched him from across the dinner table in his dining room. he even looked perfect eating the chinese takeout he’d bought you both.

“what happened earlier?”

eren tensed up again. the memories of the afternoon crept up his brain, “why, baby?”

“please, honey.” you pouted, instantly breaking down his guard at your perfect face, “i wanna know.”

eren sighed, reaching over to tug at your jutted out bottom lip, “can’t ever say no to you, mama, jesus.”

you smiled slightly against his finger, watching as he let his fork drop into the cardboard box full of noodles, running a hand through his hair.

“well i beat the shit outta him. broke his nose or ‘sum i think, i really don’t care.”

“eren!”

eren kissed his teeth, leaning back in his chair, “what? he fuckin’ deserved it.”

“eren yeager.” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest, frowning, not knowing eren secretly enjoyed the way you got so protective of him.

“shiiit, full name n’ all, now ‘m in trouble, ma, huh?” he smirked, his golden grills flashing at you.

“yes, ‘ren, he’s your friend.” you whined, feeling to blame for your boyfriends antics.

“nah he’s not.” eren scowled, returning to his food nonchalantly despite the topic of conversation, “especially not if he talks ‘bout you like that.”

you sighed, pushing at your food with your fork, pouting slightly, still feeling guilty.

“baby, ‘m sorry i’m not like the other girls you’ve dated.”

uh oh! shouldn’t have said that!

eren threw his fork to the table, startling you slightly as he slid his chair quickly towards you — forcing you into a feverish kiss, taking you by surprise. eren’s large hands grasped desperately at your face, his lips moulding against yours as he kissed you with the most passion and love you’d ever experienced.

“—‘nngh’ — ‘rennie!—giggle—stop!—hah!” your words struggled to come out as eren kissed from your lips to your nose to your cheeks, eyes forehead and chin.

“don’t you ever say that again, ma, i mean it.” eren warned, suddenly serious as he finally pulled away looking you dead in the eyes, “you. are perfect. and nothin’ like those bitches thank fucking jesus lord. they ruined me, made me half the fuckin’ man i am. you changed me you fixed me you are the one for me because you are you, baby, y’get me?”

you couldn’t help but smile against his hands, your cheeks squishing slightly against him as you couldn’t contain your grin, “‘rennie, you mean that?”

“more than anything in th’fuckin’ world.”

and he sure as hell proved that!

“..nnngh—ugnnnh! fuuuck, ‘rennie!”

eren laughed loudly, pulling back from between your thighs at the sound of his name being called, slick covering his lips and chin, as you sat up on your elbows, arms shaking.

currently, he had you on your back on his bed, completely butt ass naked like the day you were born, and his tongue working wonders on your clit. you’d already cum twice and he was trying to force a third out of you.

“‘wassup, baby?”

“— ‘ren, hah — no-no more — nnhuuugh.” your whines of pleasure and fatigue only stirring him on as he jutted against the bed frame in his boxers, now feeling awfully tight against his throbbing cock.

“please, mama, one more for ‘rennie, please? y’were such a good girl for me today baby. standing up to that fuckin’ prick — makin’ ‘rennie s’proud of you. gotta reward m’ baby, yeah?”

you whined once more, his words hitting you straight in the core as you fell back onto your back, chest heaving.

eren took that as a yes — his tongue resuming its mission your aching clit, his ring clad hands gripping at your pudgy thighs as you cried out, your legs instinctively clamping around his head at the over stimulation.

eren flicked the tip of his tongue continuously over your clit, pleasuring the swollen nub, occasionally licking long strips or sucking on it, earning louder moans of intense pleasure from your plump lips. eren ate pussy good — that was one of the first things you learnt about him, feeling excited you had him all to yourself but secretly annoyed other girls got to enjoy this before you.

but he was yours now so it didn’t matter.

eren didn’t have to wait long until you were cumming again, legs nearly crushing his skull as you shook against him, tongue lapping at your clit at record speed as you whined his name loudly, bucking your hips up to reach your third orgasm.

“fuck fuck fuck, ‘rennie — cummin’, ‘m cummin’, baby, fuck!”

“yeah, that’s it, princess, give it to me. give it to ‘rennie, fuckin’ cum for me.” eren whispered, his fingers rubbing swift circles on your nub as your third orgasm ripped through you.

eren grew harder and harder in his uncomfortably tight boxers as you creamed all over his tongue, whining and panting as the overstimulation grew. as you came down from your high, you kicked eren away from your pulsating sex as he lapped up the cum that dribbled out of you, fatigue washing over you.

but eren wasn’t done with you just yet.

kneeling on the bed, eren slotted himself between your open legs as he pulled his achingly hard cock free from his briefs, both of you watching as it bobbed between your thighs lewdly. eren wasn’t small at all — a humble 8 inches and girth always made your ability to walk be ripped away from you.

“gonna fuck you so good, mama. ya such a good girl f’me, deserve to take this big dick, hm?”

you could only whine as words failed your sex-drunk mind, clit twitching as eren’s mushroom-shaped tip nudged the abused nub. he gathered your ever-increasing slick over his hot length, heart pounding as he pushed a leg further up to his shoulder.

“ya ready, sweetheart?”

this wasn’t a question, this was a warning. eren did this to make sure you knew his desperate monster of a cock was about to destroy your insides.

“mmm.” you nodded, biting your lip, anticipation eating you alive.

eren bit back a moan as he pushed the tip past your drooling lips into your tight gummy walls — a loud whine leaving your lips, only stirring eren on.

“jeeeesus, fuck, baby.” eren groaned, throwing his head back as he pushed further inside you, the sheer girth of his fat cock stretching you open more n more with each inch.

eren was only getting harder n harder as you panted and whined beneath him, your pretty chest clad in a white lacy bra rising and falling quickly as he filled you up.

eren loved lookin at you while he fucked you. sure he loved seeing your ass clap back onto his dick while he fucked you from behind — but watching your gorgeous face contort into expressions of pleasure while he fucked you dumb made him feral.

eren wasted no time — wanting nothing more than for you to feel good for your amazing act of service to him today. he dragged himself slowly from your wet cunt, hissing at the tightness that was your pussy that engulfed him, only leaving his throbbing tip inside.

“please ‘rennie.”

that was enough for eren. one hand gripped your hip and the other on your levitated thigh as he began an unholy pace. your back arched off the bed as eren’s cock slammed in and out of your sloppy pussy — the sound of your wetness filling the air like a dirty porn video, only stirring eren on as his mouth fell open at the feeling of your clenching hole squeezing him just the way he liked. your legs were tensed as your eyes squeezed shut; pleasure consuming your body as eren fucked you senseless, grunting to himself as he thoroughly enjoyed you.

“such a good girl f’me, aren’t ya, princess?” eren panted, turning to plant hot, open mouthed kisses against your ankle as he fucked you open — chest heaving in arousal as you cried out louder at his praise.

“e-eren!” you cried, eyes shooting open as his fingers landed on your overstimulated clit, rubbing circles on his twitching nub, coaxing another orgasm outta you, shooting up from the bed.

eren’s large hand landed from your waist to your neck — grasping your throat in a chokehold and shoving you back down onto the bed, knocking the wind out of your lungs, “don’t you fuckin’ dare try and stop me.” he warned “you’ve been such a good girl all day baby don’t ruin it now. let rennie make ya cum one more time yeah?”

“rennieeee, can’t. i can’t, b-baby, can’t cum anymore. ‘s-sensitive.” you whined, trying to ignore how good it felt as his cock bullied your g-spot and thumb rubbing dangerously slow circles on your clit.

eren laughed darkly, his pornographic pace never faltering as his blown out, fucked out eyes flicked from your bodies connecting to your lewd face, “you wanna cum with rennie though, right?”

you nodded quickly — loving nothing more than feeling him stuff you full of cum while you orgasmed around him.

“then shut ya bitch mouth n take it.”

with a squeak of agreement, eren’s hand slipped from your throat to your tits — pulling one out manhandling it, earning himself some pretty moans as he rolled your nipple between his fingers.

“fuckin’ c’mere, mama.” eren spoke, tossing another leg over his shoulder, practically folding you in half as he pushed you further onto the bed, now leaning over your fucked out body.

“aaaahnnng! fuck, fuck fuck! eren — eren, fuck, eren!”

your whines only granted eren all the confirmation he needed that he was doin you good as he pushed his cock further into you — his tip kissing your cervix.

“jeeeeesus,” eren panted, throwing his head back at the new angle, “fuckin’ takin this dick so good, mama”

“yeah, yeah, yeahhnhhggh!” you were practically brainless by the time eren had even started his new pace, his cock bullying its way into you as your eyes practiced hardcore R.E.M as they rolled back and all over the place.

eren’s hips snapped back and forth against the plush of your ass and gripped your waist — forcing you down onto his cock harder as he fucked you. his bun was falling loose as strands stuck to the sweat on his forehead, bottom lip between his teeth flashin his grills as his eyebrows twitched.

eren pushed his cock deeper as you whined with every thrust, blabbering his name as tears slipped from your eyes at the pure pleasure your eren was bringing you — big bad eren making you feel so good behind closed doors!

eren’s hand resumed its tortuous work against your clit as he grunted against you, flicking your nub back forth.

“doin’ so good, babygirl, fuckin’ can’t wait to nut in this good girl pussy.”

“oouuuugh ‘rennieeeeuuugg!”

“yeah, tell me ‘bout it mama, feels good, yea?” eren teased, slamming his now twitching cock into your slobbering pussy — his dick throbbing in arousal at the way you’d clench around him and then a milky white ring of your cream would form around the base of his cock, “ya like it when rennie talks you through it, hm? dirty girl.”

“yes, ‘rennie! yes, ‘rennie! yes, ‘rennie!”

eren laughed darkly as he watched your eyes nearly turn towards each other as you blabbered loudly, drool now falling from your lips — he just loves fuckin’ you dumb!

“fuck, baby, gunna cum,” eren mumbled, hips twitching slightly as he neared his finish, “where y’want me, sweetheart?��

“inside!”

“oh, fuck.”

eren didn’t need much more to be said before his hips stilled as he spilled his load inside you. the feeling of eren fucking his cum back inside you as his hips twitched forwards as he came, sent you the edge as well, manicured toes curling and a loud cry of pleasure being released as you came around him. eren’s head fell forward against your chest as you clamped down on his sensitive cock — forcing another spurt of cum to shoot inside you along with his fat load.

you both laid in silence for a few more seconds before eren slowly sat up, letting his softening cock slip out of your warm heaven — smirking proudly as a dollop of his cum dripped from your pussy which clenched around nothing.

“did so good f’me, beautiful.” eren whispered, reaching down to rub gentle, apologetic circles to your bruised hips and a sweet, loving kiss to your temple, his heart hammering in his chest from your adorably tired face.

“i love you, ‘rennie.” you mumbled, curling up in his sweaty sheets — which you knew he’d be changing for you in a few minutes as he retreated towards the bathroom to grab a warm washcloth to clean you with.

“i love you more, princess.”

hey sorry i’m back babies !

i had awful writers block but i think ive found my style now YAY

i <3 eren

[angel-sweets666]

Bakugos first time getting head

AGED UP!! Katsuki bakugo x fem! Reader

warnings: smut,, jerking off, blowjob. Sort of a extension to hallway crush

AGED UP im talking like last year of UA 18 years old sort of aged up

A/N I realised people don’t really know me, so to make it easier my names angel and I go by she/her, I never really introduced myself, also this banner😍

sorry for disappearing I’m back now and I think the smut is kinda rushed sorry 😭😭😭

Katsuki never thought of loosing his virginity often, it never crossed his mind on a daily basis. He wasn’t like his idiot “friends” Denki, sero and kirishima who all had either lost their virginity or were planning on it, especially Denki when he would yap into katsukis ear about finding the perfect girl to plow into which often lead to bakugo getting up and leaving mid conversation.

but then there was you, you flicked a switch in his brain like no girl did before. Sure he had a huge crush on you like he’s never had a crush on a girl before, but he also had a lust for you. Katsuki would sit in class and stare at you from the corner of his eye while imagining bending you over his bed and stuffing you with his seed or thinking about dragging you to the bathrooms and fucking you in a stall ect, all thoughts lead to him asking aizawa to go to the bathroom because he’s got a massive boner he desperately wants to deal with.

And dealing with it would probably be the most pathetic (prettiest) thing ever. Katsuki would sit in the bathroom with his baggy pants and boxers pulled down and his hard sore cock up against the fabric of his shirt, poor boy would spit into his hand and stroke the length of it with a grumble and after a while he’d get desperate and just start fucking his fist, bucking his hips into his hand all while imagining it was you balls deep on his cock. You would be so pretty bouncing on his dick in the school toilets while he held your hips and buried his face in your tits with a grunt and if your lucky a whine.

but bakugo couldn’t just fuck you, not just randomly. You wouldn’t allow that, you have more pride than that.

So when you two started talking then started talking he was beyond happy, though he wouldn’t show it behind his usually stoic and aggressive personality.

One day you two were sitting together at the back of class, both of you bored out of your minds! Katsukis eyes wonder from the board to you.he admired how pretty you were from head to toe, his eyes lingered around your thighs… your soft pretty thighs… the blonde bit his lip before trying to distract himself.

not now not now not now.

The blonde looked back down at your thighs before looking up at your face, only to see you looking back at him “what are you looking at?” You giggled, teasing him a bit “hah? I can look at you if I wanna look at you” he grumbled and turned his attention back to the board “righttt…nice hard on by the way” you teased him again as you pulled at a lock of his ash blonde hair. Katsuki looked down to find himself beginning to get a boner “shit…” he whispered and raised his hand “oi can I go to the toilet?”

You watched katsuki get up and leave in a hurry, slamming the door shut behind him. You giggled with amusement, you’d never think you’d have that sort of reaction out of him, you two never did anything sexual as of right now, you didn’t think he had a interest in it. But from that moment you realised maybe he did and just didn’t wanna tell you. You gave it a couple minutes before raising your hand too

“Mr. Aizawa, can I go to the toilet? Lady problems,” you said with a grin, knowing full well he suspected what you were really up to. The exhausted man barely glanced up from his desk, his eyes half-lidded with fatigue. “I don’t care…” he muttered, waving you off dismissively.

You walked down the hallway, the silence broken only by the rhythmic clicking of your shoes against the polished floor. As you neared the boys' toilets, you paused and knocked lightly on the wall before calling out, “Katsuki? You in here?” . After a brief silence, you heard a response. “Y-yeah! I’m… ah- I’m okay. Piss off!” Katsuki shouted back, his voice strained, you could hear slight panting. “Am I interrupting something?” You cooed, trying to tease him “hmmph.., yes! Go away!” He again yelled out “oooookayyy…”

you stood by the door as if you knew what was gonna happen

“you still there?” He grumbled out to you “yep” you called back out “you were jerking off huh?” You giggled “shut the fuck up!” “It’s alright it’s normal!” he mumbled in response. After a while in silence you decided to tease him more “so did you cum?” “What the fuck?” You laughed in response, riskily walking into the boys bathroom. “Do you want some help..?” You asked him, the silence was loud.

and that’s how you found yourself on your knees infront of him in the stall while he pushed your head down on his dick “fuck.. that feels good…” he grumbled and pushed you felt the tip of his dick slide deeper down into your throat, you gagged a little due to his huge size. Bakugo felt a bit panicked as it was his first time even getting his first time getting head “shit too far? Am I hurting you?” He asked as he pulled your head off his cock with a loud pop “n-nope” you said as a bit of drool fell down your chin, a dopey grin on your face,

before you knew it katsuki was pushing your head down on his hard cock again “Mmmm.. good girl…” he pet your hair as he pulled at your hair to push you up and down on him. Just as kirishima said he should. The slow pleasure began to build up into frustration, bakugo held your head up as he began to fuck into your face

“A-ah fuck! Don’t get caught don’t get caught… mmmmph…. Such a good girl..”

all while you gagged as tears built up into your eyes, he was much bigger then you thought and you could barely breath with the cock in your mouth. katsuki pushed his whole shaft into your mouth and crossed the line, painting your throat white with his hot cum.

“fuuuuuuuuuuuuckkk”

you pulled his softened dick out your mouth with a pop, swallowing the semen left in your mouth. The blonde stared down at you with short breath, panting softly. “Thank you..I’ve never done that.. before..” “it’s alright baby.. first time for everything”

“shut up….”

HAS EVERYONE SEEN THE MHA ENDING? IM SO SAD. GIVE ME THE PEN IM RE WRITING THAT, I DONT WANT MHA TO END

[lokisgoodgirl]

Mine, Utterly [Loki x Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: After making Prince Loki a little jealous, he lays down the law on the eve of an important occasion. (w/c 2.1k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Minors DNI. Dirty talk, language.

Your hands hit the mattress and grasped at the silken sheets, as if that would save you.

“My Prince,” you gasped, breaths scorching against your lungs as he ripped the chiffon around your thighs.

All you’d done was smile at the guard. Okay, maybe flirt a little…just enough to rouse the jealousy Loki had suggested with a mischievous shine in his eyes before taking his place on the Royal banqueting dais.

A palm landed on your exposed ass cheek. Crying out, you shot a glance over your shoulder. Prince Loki stood, storms in his darkened eyes, the leather belt that had been slung across his chest now dangling from a fist. "You dare to make a god jealous?"

Your stomach dropped. What if it was a test; what if he was joking? But for all his antics, the Prince wasn’t known for his humour when it came to matters of the heart—or the flesh. He didn’t share, and as that thought sank in, the knuckles on the fist whitened. You inhaled sharply, grip tightening on the sheets.

Something struck your ass again, but this time it gripped. Loki’s back was pressed to yours. The emeralds studded into the intricately constructed doublet pinched through the thin fabric of your bodice as he whispered, “Perhaps I wasn’t clear that when you are mine, you are mine; utterly.”

His knuckles trailed down your bicep, those fingers that had been wet with your cum too many times to count in palace corridors and dark corners dancing across your skin. Those digits had fastened around your wrist and torn you away from the feasting hall, his obligations forgotten, and whisked you in an explosion of green light to the candlelit expanse of your own bedroom.

Now, Loki’s cock pressed through the layers of leather and velvet covering it right into the swell of your ass. It was a familiar feeling—but he’d always resisted. Only his fingers, his tongue, his words—that was the only relief he gave you over past months since your arrival at court. Never his pleasure—never his cock.

Norns, how you wanted to fuck him; wanted to ride him until his own name scattered on the wind like ash, feel him slam into your cunt until his brilliant mind was a blur of lines like wine spilled on parchment. You wondered how your name sounded on his lips when he came: staggered, gasping, choking for mercy.

His nose drew a line up your neck, inhaling at the pulse point like a hound. “You are mine, aren’t you?” he murmured.

In answer, your hand slid up his temple and knotted into Loki’s hair. A growl built in his throat, swelling your confidence in time with the heat throbbing between your legs. “No more, and no less, than you are mine, Loki Odinson.”

His teeth sank into your shoulder, just enough to make you squirm against his cock. He spun you around, tipping your over the edge of the mattress while he towered in a silhouette of black and forest green pulsating in amber flickers.

His fingers made quick work of the laces at his groin and then, his legendary, iron cock was in his hand. It was even more perfect that you’d dreamed. A well of saliva rose indelicately beneath your tongue. Loki stroked it, back and forth, as you watched: hypnotised.

“Tonight, I will show you what it is to be mine,” he said, low and thicker than molasses on a winter’s eve. “After that, I’m afraid you will be ruined for all others…” A devilish smirk lit at the corners of his mouth. Your heart pounded as you sat up on the bed, trying frantically to untangle the dress sprawled around your hips. Loki’s knees hit the mattress.

"Allow me," he said, before ripping the dress from your body in one, swift movement.

Your eyes widened as it fluttered to the floor. Only the corset remained. "My Prince…I," you said, attempting to keep the game fluid; but Loki pressed a finger to your lips with a hush. It was still warm from the friction of his cock.

"We have talked long enough, you and I. I would very much like to fuck you…" His eyebrows rose. "I will, fuck you. I will have you; utterly."

As the final syllable melted, so did his clothes. The emerald encrusted doublet was first, then the sigils of his station, then the boots and—oh, gods—the leather trousers.

Your chest tightened at the sight of him: carved like marble, the tremor of his muscle beneath taut skin as he rested back on his heels, thighs spread, enough to make you howl. Loki’s chin dipped to his chest, unbound hair falling around his milky shoulders like hot tar over battlements. His cheekbones flashed in pulsing candlelight as he said with a touch of malice, "I will not be kept waiting. Not anymore," but his eyes glinted.

You crawled the space between you and hoisted onto his lap. With your arms around his neck, your bare cunt pressed against the throb of his flesh, you couldn’t imagine it ever not being thus. And then, you kissed him; one sliding into the next like spring into summer, like night into day.

Loki’s kisses were a medley of ravenous restraint; morphing like his magic between complete desperation and tenderness. His hands cupped your ass, scooting you further up his lap. The tip of his cock rubbed against your slit.

"I want to consume you," he whispered, lips wet from your kisses. "And you will never be anothers."

"Never." A ragged moan ripped the air as you sank onto his length. Loki’s groan of pleasure was everything you’d dreamt of—a primal flash beneath the regal façade you wanted to tear at with your bare hands. His chin tipped back, nailing you with his dilated stare as his hips pushed up.

"Loki," you gasped, clutching at his back muscle. He was huge. The Prince bottomed out, teeth clenching. 

"You’ve no idea how much I craved this little cunt," he panted as your hands fisted in his hair. "How many times I’ve wanted to pin you against the wall and fuck you until all thoughts of other men were shaken from your mind forever."

The squelch of your pussy jammed with his cock punctuated every word. "How you’ve teased me, played with me; ruined me—all for the want of the Valhalla I knew would be between your legs."

Loki’s head fell back with broken cry of anguish as you clench around the root of his cock, dragging up before slamming down onto the meat of his thighs.

“Fuck, kvinne…now I find myself tricked…” he said, breathless. The god’s head rose, strands of sex damp hair plastered across his brow. "I want you more than ever."

His eyes narrowed, and then his lips collided to yours, tongue demanding entry with the sureness of a tide on the shore. His nails dug into the curve of your waist, guiding your hips. Every gyration made new sparks burst to life, sizzling from your clit to the deepest parts of your body and mind that had never been so alive.

“I will never be sated,” Loki growled, thrusting faster, “Never…never.” With a rumble, he flipped you onto your back. Loki’s lips worked down the hard sinews of your neck, sucking against supple skin, palming your breasts upward. He was possessed. Loki’s name was a chant in your throat, the absence of his cock inside you becoming unbearable.

"Fuck me," you whined, and Loki looked up from where he’d been distracted with your nipple between his teeth.

“Ruined for all others,” confirmed Loki, smirking. He crawled over your body, settling his legs on either side and drawing the leaking head of himself through your sopping folds. “Beg for it.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Beg…my pretty, pretty whore.” Loki’s lips grazed across your cheek like wind through barley; a short, trembling sigh flooding your ear.

“Maybe you’re my whore, Odinson. Did you consider that?”

His thick cock twitched against your heat as he stared down at you with your perfectly styled hair mussed, your thighs spread, your lips bitten and stinging, before he whispered, “I consider everything.” Dark curls hung down either side of his jaw, framing the angle of his jawline as he licked his lips and settled into a cage around your head. The muscles of his forearms twitched with the effort of not fucking you into the mattress. The words bubbled in your throat, spilling forth before you could second guess them. “Well, if you’re my whore, then satisfy me.”

“Tell me you’re mine.” Those words shaped his tongue like summer storms. “And you will have everything you desire; always.”

You scraped hair back from his face, the beat of his heat thumping through his skin. His hips dragged against your clit, making your knees tighten around his ribs. “I’m yours,” you whispered, “Utterly.” Loki’s cock squeezed inside, and his face twisted in relief absolute. One of his hands flew to the ornate headboard; whacks of ancient wood against stone sounding with every thrust. His pubic hair dragged against your swollen clit, moans mingling with the fragrance of sweat and sex that clung to your bodies and rose like steam.

The god knew your body like you thought only you did, and every grip of his hands, shift of his hips, work of his mouth—you couldn’t catch your breath. His lust was the chop of waves, drowning you on the undertow of his strength, and scent and the hair brushing your lips as he fucked you. You never had a chance. Need scorched up your skin as climax broke. It flooded through your body, Loki’s name a rattle in your throat as his exhales of pleasure pounded in your ear. He hissed as fingernails dragged down the wide expanse of his back, the slide of his cock primal and wet, balls smacking against cum-slick skin.

The prince’s thrusts slowed, rocking you through the final threads of orgasm stringing you together. You gaped at him, heavy eyed and open mouthed as his torso rose between your legs, his palms splayed on your thighs, his abdomen flexing with every glacial, devastating thrust.

Loki’s head fell back, his black curls a sheet down the faint flush of pale skin.

The veins in his neck hardened, jaw clenched to the ceiling as deep lines settled on his brow. Your breath hitched.

Every glide of his cock was met by the gluttonous squelch of your cum. Loki rocked on his heels, guiding himself over the edge inside your perfect cunt.

“Gods,” he choked to the murals above the bed. And then, he came.

His face screwed up as the wave hit was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. Loki’s groan trembled through your skin, beneath your flesh and vibrating your bones. His fingers tightened, and you knew that tomorrow your gown would hide the evidence of obsession marked in blue and purple shadows of devotion.

Devotion, you thought lazily as he gasped out the syllabled of your name and collapsed on your chest; meeting your lips with open mouthed enthusiasm.

Somewhere, a bell tolled. Loki sighed, slipping himself out of you with a mutter of irritation. He clicked his fingers, and the elaborate garb assembled on him like a blossom of ink. His lip curled. “The next time I see you, it will be in white.”

“Mmm…” “And yet they will have no clue what a fantastically depraved wretch for me that my intended is.” “I think they might know that already if the maids who caught you pleasuring me in the kitchens last week weren’t mute—and besides, perhaps they’ll just think my intended is a bad influence.”

“Gods, I hope so,” Loki murmured against your skin before biting your cheek softly, melting into a kiss. “Until tomorrow, then.” Loki drew away, his eyes serious but a small smile playing at his lips. “When you’re my wife, you shall never be rid of me.” “Gods, I hope so,” you echoed, and in the space of a heartbeat, Loki vanished.

Tags in comments! 🤗

[asherasgayagenda]

oh hey if i tried really hard i think i could pull off a kohaku hairstyle

[lordprettyflackotara]

the perfect pair || masky

You had spent countless missions with Masky. The Operator liked the way you both worked together. He was the buff you were the brains. You had spent dozens upon dozens of late nights smoking cigarettes with the brunette, talking and unwinding. You had slept beside him for countless hours in beat up motels with questionable staff and customers. Yet there was only one thing you couldn’t get used to, one thing you couldn’t get enough of. And that was the way his cock felt when he abused your cervix. Masky was anything but gentle, this habit not faltering when it came to fucking you into the mattress.

“You have no idea how hot you looked robbing that loser, fuck,” He groaned. One of his large hands had your wrist pinned behind your back, the other digging into your waist so hard you were promised with bruises in the morning. You whimpered in response, his thrust feral as he fucked you. “You’re the best part of what we do. You and this tight little cunt,” Masky snarled. He released your waist, shoving your face into the mattress. You were struggling to breathe, gasping as his hips snapped into yours. His filthy words were only making you milk him tighter, his cock twitching in delight with every sensation you provided him. Your moans were muffled by the sheets, the smell of cigarettes and sex clouding the room. A cigarette hung lazily from his lips, the brunette deeply inhaling. He untangled his hand from your hair, grabbing the cigarette. He brought its burning end to your shoulder, ashing it out on your exposed skin. You cried in pain, his thrust continuing throughout. The pain began to mix with pleasure, the kind only Masky could provide you. “There we go princess, nice and marked up,” He chuckled darkly. You could feel your skin sizzling as he tossed the cigarette aside lazily.

Masky glanced at the old alarm clock, gritting his teeth. He wanted to fuck you for as long as possible, but he knew you both had to start heading back to the mansion in a couple of hours. He roughly wedged his hand into your cunt, drawing fast circles on your clit. “Need you to cum for me princess. Needa cum inside of you,” Masky grunted. A perk of being proxy, one that Masky took explicit advantage of, was your inability to get pregnant. The idea of breeding you drove him wild and there was no risk of any accidents. You whined as he roughly assaulted your clit, releasing your pinned wrist. You cried out his name as you came, your body shaking and thighs trembling as you released on his cock. “Fucking, shit, fuck,” Masky panted, thrusting inside of you one final time. You both were panting filthy messes, the brunette slowly sliding out of you. You pulled yourself together, rolling over and brushing your tangled hair out of your face.

“That cigarette shit was hot. Wanna shower?”

Masky nodded in agreement, watching your hips sway side to side as you walked to the bathroom. You two really were the perfect pair.

[bridehall-if]

--The hungry mouth of Bridehall Manor lets out its clarion call. You have been compelled to answer.

DEMO OUT NOW!

You play as the youngest child of the Simonson family, born out of infidelity-- a perfect Victorian scandal. Due to your unfortunate birth circumstances, your parents have decided to send you away to take up a position as household manager at the remote Bridehall Manor after the previous one's untimely (and altogether strange) passing. You expect your time in the mansion in the Catskills of New York to be uneventful and isolating.

You'd be wrong.

The longer you stay at Bridehall, the more secrets you find hidden behind its mahogany doors, beneath its ornate wallpaper, under its rich hardwood floors, and especially within the denizens of the house themselves.

Just be careful not to drown in the deep, deep black of its shadows.

+ Customize your MC-- what's their attitude towards society? How do they feel about working at Bridehall? What are their thoughts on the supernatural?

+ Also, choose your gender,* interests, personality, name, and more.

+ Discover more about the (troubling) history of Bridehall and the people that have lived in it.

+ Experience the world's most uncomfortable carriage ride.

+ Romance 1 of 5 ROs-- the matriarch, the minister-in-training, the runner-up, the major, or the phantom.

+ Befriend those who live there, or make enemies. Connection is a fragile thing, especially in a place like Bridehall.

+ Blood sacrifices! If you're into that sort of thing.

TW: Gore (not extremely descriptive), mentions of infidelity, violence, brief suggestive content, mentions of animal death, mentions of drug use. This IF is recommended for those 16+

================================================*Disclaimer: Because this IF is inspired by the 1880s, gender roles are still sort of a thing. There is an option to play as femme/masc non-binary, but based on your presentation, that affects how you are treated in society and some additional world aspects. However, there will not be any transphobia/intentional misgendering in this IF. It's just not something I want to write. I'm not non-binary myself, so I'm very open to suggestions on things to change relating to this topic.

================================================

🌑Harriet Margrave -- the matriarch -- (she/her) {FMCs only}

| Assured. Respectable. Intimidating. The wife of Amos Margrave, although she doesn't like it when people bring it up. She runs the house, some might say with an iron fist. She seems to have taken a dangerous liking to you.

| However, beneath her strong, cool exterior, she's not all that she seems-- you catch glimpses of something dark and curious lurking. It's up to you to decide whether it should never see the light of day or, perhaps, to be consumed entirely by it.

| Harriet is in her late 40s, with ash brown hair always kept in a neat, complex updo and deep blue eyes that shift with tones of green in different lights. She has a light but rosy complexion and stands at around 5'7. She tends to wear a lot of black, as if she's in perpetual mourning, although she doesn't mind an occasional blue accent.

"Low and deep Spake in mine ear her voice: "And didst thou dream, This could be buried? This could be sleep? And love be thrall to death! Nay, whatso seem, Have faith, dear heart; this is the thing that is!" Thereon I woke, and on my lips her kiss." -- snippet of Assurance (1887) by Emma Lazarus

================================================

🌒Ansel Margrave -- the minister-in-training -- (he/him)

| Flighty. Devout. Gentle. A hopeful future Methodist minister, he's recently been plagued by supernatural visions (or so he says,) and your arrival and the circumstances surrounding it do nothing to calm his worries. You may be able to reassure him otherwise.

| As you get to know him, he may reveal that he has far better reasons to be afraid than you might think. Will you walk with him through his troubles, or leave him to wander the solemn corridors of Bridehall on his own?

| Ansel is in his early 20s, and he looks much like his mother with his ashy brown hair and pale complexion, although due to its lack of rosiness it sometimes borders on ghostly. He'd like to dress more vibrantly but fears reprisal from his clerical peers, thus, he usually sticks to muted greens and browns. He stands at around 5'9, and wears spectacles.

"In solitude profound, As shadows fall, what memories, Thick as dew-drops on sun-risen meadows Troop around thee!" -- snippet of Night In Egypt (1880) by George Vaughan

================================================

🌓Cecil/ia Blumenthal -- the runner-up -- (gender selectable, he/him or she/her)

| Independent. Scrappy. Creative. C's been working at Bridehall for practically their whole life, climbing the ranks until they could finally reach the position of head butler/housekeeper they deserved-- until you came along. In their eyes, you have everything you want on a silver platter, and how much work have you done to get it? None. In short, they've got a real bone to pick with you. Will you play into the feud, or maybe try to change their feelings? Honestly, best of luck on that one.

| Because of how long they've been at Bridehall, C knows more about its history and secrets than they let on. Much, much more.

| C is in their mid-20's, with shiny brown curls that F!C keeps in an artfully rushed bun and M!C keeps just a bit too long. They have coffee-brown eyes and warm, tanned skin dotted with freckles. They stand at 5'6. They prefer to dress for convenience rather than style, but they always wear a tarnished silver brooch in the shape of a bird-- F!C pins it to her collar, while M!C pins it to his lapel.

"I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow. And I waterd it in fears, Night & morning with my tears: And I sunned it with smiles, And with soft deceitful wiles. And it grew both day and night. Til it bore an apple bright. And my foe beheld it shine, And he knew that it was mine." -- snippet of A Poison Tree (1794) by William Blake

================================================🌔 Marshall Ward -- the major -- (he/they)

| Outgoing. Empathetic. Perfectionist. A new arrival at Bridehall like you, he's an old family friend of the Margraves who plans to stay for the autumn. He's the perfect picture of polite society-- porcelain smiles and impeccable manners. Despite the divide between him as a guest and you as the help, he insists on making a connection with you. One that may be a bit too strong for his own good.

| Now, you don't know much about the military yourself, but it is a bit odd that a non-retired military officer was permitted leave for an entire season, and whenever you ask questions surrounding his arrival, you only get heavy silence in return. It's as if there's a tight wire of secrecy underlying his sunny veneer, and the more you press, the more it's likely to snap.

| Marshall is in his early 30s, with short, coily black hair and an impeccably combed mustache. They have light tan skin and have a small scar running across their cheek, and he stands at 6'2. He is very meticulous in the way he dresses and is particularly fond of red ties with embroidered patterns on them.

"Volleyed and thundered; Stormed at with shot and shell, While horse and hero fell. They that had fought so well Came through the jaws of Death, Back from the mouth of hell, All that was left of them, Left of six hundred. -- snippet of The Charge of the Light Brigade (1854) by Lord Alfred Tennyson ================================================

🌕Annabelle -- the phantom -- (she/her)

| Mysterious. Quiet. Ethereal. Every so often, out of the corner of your eye or the reflection in a mirror, you catch a glimpse of her. Is she even real, or is she simply a product of your own mind, spiraling ever deeper into instability? Whatever she is, you feel an indescribable, intangible pull to her that may become very hard to resist.

| Annabelle is inextricably linked to the house and its history. If you dig to learn more about her, you may unearth the very roots that Bridehall stands on. Roots that it would very much like to keep underground.

| Annabelle appears to be in her mid-20s, although the semi-translucent, filmy aspect to her makes it a bit hard to tell. She has very dark skin that glitters and shines under moonlight, and she seems to be perpetually wet, as if she had just been thrown in a pond. She wears a pale pink dress a decade or so out of date, and stands at about 5'3.

"For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling-- my darling-- my life and my bride, In her sepulchre there by the sea-- In her tomb by the sounding sea. -- snippet of Annabel Lee (1849) by Edgar Allan Poe

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