#In which I am too amused with my own writing

[luvergirl-866]

dreams, fairytales, fantasies

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 7.9k

c/w - language, drinking, fluff, and ofc smut (sub p, sub a, strap, eating, fingering…it’s a lot) (also heavy usage of pet names bc i am a sucker for them)

a/n - this is just a real depiction of what happens when lesbians go two weeks without sex 😔. no but fr, i hope yall enjoy!!! (feedback much appreciated, esp bc this is not edited) (also, im majorly crediting the smut queen @basketball-lesbians bc ease and stiff changed the way i write smut forever).

The much anticipated make-up sex doesn’t happen until a week later, which is about six days after they’ve actually made up—which they manage without the involvement of sex. And that’s a great thing for them, considering they have a history of resolving arguments via orgasm, but they also can’t give themselves the credit because the no-sex thing wasn’t really their decision. (If it had been up to them, Azzi would have jumped Paige’s bones that very night they made up).

That day, though, was spent talking, reliving their breakup and the horrible year afterward for the sole purpose of truly processing it. They had continued talking during that time, of course, claiming to be ‘best friends’, but they meticulously danced around the topic of their high school relationship and the fact they were both miserable once it ended, grieving it in their own ways. They talked for hours, and both of them quickly came to realize that there was so much they hadn’t told each other. Azzi was shocked to hear that Paige spent her entire freshman year moping around, never getting out and having fun like Azzi wanted her to do. (“Seriously? I thought you hoed around?” she said when Paige gave her this information. Paige shrugged and said, “I told you I did, so I didn’t seem lame. But yeah, no. I smoked a lot and looked at our pictures and that’s—well, yeah, that’s pretty much it.”)

Paige was just as shocked when Azzi told her she tried going on a date with someone else, just to get the breakup off her mind, and they kissed at the end of the night and she went inside and cried for a long time. (“I didn’t know you went out with anyone,” Paige said, not particularly jealous, just a little hurt because even though they were exes that year, they were still best friends, and they usually told each other everything. Azzi picked her thumbnail, eyebrows drawn at the memory. “It hurt too much. I didn’t even tell my mom.” That, if possible, made Paige feel even worse).

Anyway, by the time they talked everything through (with some crying involved, and maybe a little kissing, too), it was late at night and they were both emotionally exhausted from the day. They’d gotten ready to sleep and laid in Azzi’s bed and murmured about how much they’d missed each other for about two minutes before they promptly assed out.

And then it was the week, their time consumed with classes, homework, practice, and even grownup things like grocery shopping. They spent as much time together as they could, practically magnetized to each other, attached at that hip when they were in the same vicinity. But they were both swamped with homework and while they tried to do it together that Monday, they quickly realized that it was impossible to focus around each other. Or at least, Azzi did. (“C’mon, we’re doing okay,” Paige said, at approximately 1 A.M., when they had been at it for four hours and had gotten absolutely nothing done. “I wouldn’t say that, P,” Azzi mumbled, slinging her bag over her shoulder and pecking a sulking Paige on the lips. “No more school around each other, ‘kay?” She couldn’t help but be amused at Paige’s exaggerated pouting. “I think we’ll be okay. See you tomorrow, baby.”

That night, her phone had blown up with messages from Paige, most of them silly selfies of her pouting at the camera as she sat at her desk with schoolwork laid out in front of her. Even that was enough to distract Azzi from her work).

So, no, it’s not until Saturday—the night of their second-first date—that the make-up sex (that can’t really be considered make-up sex anymore) happens. But, as the saying goes, good things come to those who wait. And that must be true because that night turns out to be very good indeed.

It all starts before the two of them are even together, with Azzi picking her outfit for their date. She’s never been good with decisions, and this is a big one in her book. She needs to wear the perfect outfit—something sexy and cute and romantic and alluring all at once. An hour into choosing the outfit, Caroline is beginning to regret offering to help.

“Okay, you’re just overthinking it now,” she says, exasperated, watching as Azzi frowns at herself in the mirror.

“If I don’t overthink it I’ll end up looking ugly,” Azzi says, turning this way and that in the mirror, making sure the outfit looks good from every angle. But when she takes a step back, leans her head to the side just so, and turns to the left, the shirt suddenly makes her look atrocious. With a frustrated sigh, Azzi takes it off, tossing it onto the ground.

Caroline groans, flopping onto Azzi’s bed. “What was wrong with that one?”

“Everything,” Azzi replies, going back to her closet to try again. “Has my wardrobe always been this bad?” she mutters to herself.

“You look good in everything, Az,” Caroline says. “And your clothes are cute. Paige is going to love you in whatever you decide to wear.”

Which is true—Azzi could be wearing jorts and a flannel and Paige would still swear up and down she’s the prettiest girl in the world. But love and want are two different things. After two weeks of no sex Azzi needs to be wanted.

“You know what your problem is?” Caroline asks as Azzi rummages through her clothes.

“What?” Azzi asks, sort of desperately.

“Your bra,” Caroline says simply.

Azzi looks down at her bra, then turns to Caroline, a little confused. “It’s a cute bra, though?”

“Yeah, it’s cute,” Caroline concedes, leaning back on her hands and giving Azzi an up-and-down look. “But I thought you were trying to get laid tonight?”

Azzi nods, because duh she’s trying to get laid tonight. It’s all she’s been talking about all week.

Caroline wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. “Then, this isn’t really about your outfit. It’s about what’s underneath.”

As she stares at her genius best friend, Azzi nods slowly, starting to get it. “I need lingerie.”

“Yup.” Caroline smiles, satisfied. “As soon as you put some sexy panties on, I promise you, girl, you’re gonna feel better about yourself.”

Azzi is already reaching back into her closet, opening her special drawer and rifling through it. “Should I wear one she hasn’t seen before?”

“Yeah, for sure,” Caroline agrees, standing up and walking over to Azzi, peering over her shoulder at her array of underwear. “And don’t tell her you’re wearing it, either. It has to be a surprise.”

Azzi pulls a few sets out, but none of them particularly catch her eye, and it isn’t until they’ve been searching for a few minutes that Caroline reaches into the closet and grabs a still-sealed box, the logo of a designer lingerie brand on the lid. “What about this?” she asks.

It takes a moment for her to remember what the box contains. She’d bought it just a month ago, on a whim, and while it had cost her a fortune she also couldn’t not buy it. She’d, of course, had Paige in mind when she’d bought it, but they haven’t exactly had lingerie sex in awhile—with their busy schedules, they’ve only had time for spur-of-the-moment quickies and lazy mouths and fingers in the mornings before practice.

But this—this is going to be post-date, make-up sex. The absolute perfect occasion to wear insanely expensive lingerie catered specifically for Paige.

With an excited smile, Azzi (with the help of Caroline) gets all laced into the set. And once it’s on, it becomes surprisingly easy to choose the perfect outfit. Because Azzi knows, by the end of the night, Paige will forget all about what she’s wearing, the memory replaced by what she’s not.

———————————————

Paige, of course, tries to fuck her multiple times before they even get to the restaurant. It starts immediately, when she comes to pick her up and they share a chaste hug and kiss, and Azzi takes the flowers from her hands and turns to find a vase to put them in—Paige’s eyes trail down to her ass and stay there for longer than she’d like to admit. And then Azzi is carefully arranging the flowers, talking about how excited she is for their date, when Paige comes up behind her and holds her tight. It’s a gesture that Azzi thinks is innocent until Paige kisses her neck and murmurs, “You look good, Az. Makes me wanna make us late for our reservation.”

Azzi’s entire body heats at that, but she playfully shoves Paige away, not about to let their hormones get in the way of this date.

But then, it happens again, in the car on the way over. Paige’s hand rests on Azzi’s thigh while she drives, which isn’t unusual, and Azzi doesn’t question it—that is, until her fingers trace a slow but sure path between her legs. Azzi lets it go farther than she probably should, only pulling Paige’s hand away once she’s fully touching her clothed center. Laughing, Azzi returns Paige’s hand onto her side of the car. “Your thigh-touching privileges are revoked for that.”

Paige groans. “I didn’t even do nothing, don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Just keep your hands to yourself, weirdo.”

And when they get to the restaurant, Paige opens her door for her, guides her in by the small of her back, pulls out her chair. It reminds Azzi of a more mature, experienced version of the Paige she dated in high school, and it reminds her exactly why their relationship was so perfect back then. It also reminds her of the aching need between her legs, the one that’s been there for two long weeks and that now practically burns in anticipation. But, she forces herself to ignore it, to just focus on the romance of it all. Paige decides to make that difficult by running a foot up and down her calf, and when she hisses at her to stop, Paige laughs and says, “You’re imagining things.”

It’s not five minutes later that Paige picks up her phone and begins typing. A flash of annoyance comes from the side of Azzi that thrives off attention, more particularly Paige’s attention, and that’s so used to constantly having it it’s a little off-putting when she doesn’t. But then, a moment later, her own phone buzzes, and Paige sets her’s down with a satisfied little smirk.

Azzi rolls her eyes. “You’re stupid.”

“Look at your phone.”

“That’s rude,” Azzi teases. “We’re on our first date.”

“We’ve been on a million dates before,” Paige says, which is technically true. “Look at it.”

Amidst the usual lighthearted, joking tone of Paige’s words, Azzi also catches a hint of something demanding, something that leaves no room for argument—at least, not without repercussion—and it makes it impossible to focus on the setting they’re in without also thinking of the events that will occur when they get home.

She picks up her phone, and there’s a text from one ‘P Boogs 💗’. When she opens it, she finds a stupid, horny text, nothing short of what she expected: can we go fuck in the bathroom or??

Rolling her eyes, and a little relieved that Paige didn’t actually write anything sexy (because if she had, Azzi’s not sure she would’ve been able to resist), she kicks her under the table and sets her phone down. “No, Paige. What’d I say about no more public restrooms?”

Reminiscent of a small child, Paige crosses her arms and slumps back in her seat. “I rebuke that.”

“You don’t know what that word means,” Azzi waves her off, before motioning to their plates. “Now eat before your food gets cold.”

Azzi has only two glasses of wine, so by the time they’re driving home she’s the perfect amount of tipsy. Wine also tends to make her horny, which doesn’t hurt the situation.

“You’re really okay?” Paige asks for what seems like the millionth time. “Because if you’re even, like, a little drunk, we don’t have to—“

“Paige,” Azzi says before she can finish that god-awful sentence. “I’m mostly sober. We’re all good.”

Paige glances over at her, and when she sees the firm look in her eyes she nods, relaxing into a sly smile. As she focuses back on the road, she says, “Good. Because I have an empty apartment tonight.”

The thought of it—the thought that Paige asked her roommates to clear out for the night, knowing what was to come—makes Azzi shift in her seat. The ache between her legs is crossing into painful territory at this point.

By the time they get inside Paige’s apartment, every instinct in Azzi’s body tells her to jump Paige’s bones as soon as the door is locked behind them. But Paige doesn’t really give her a chance—first kicking off her shoes and then immediately heading towards the kitchen. Azzi trails behind her as she opens the fridge.

“Hungry?” Azzi asks, a little confused considering they just had a fairly large meal at dinner. But Paige shakes her head, reaching into the side drawer of the fridge and pulling out a seltzer.

She waves it at Azzi with a smile, though it’s a little unusual—almost wavering? Not the familiar one Azzi’s used to. “Wanted a little drink.”

“Okay,” Azzi says slowly, leaning against the counter, watching as Paige cracks the can open. She shouldn’t be surprised—she herself is tipsy and it’s only fair that Paige would want to catch up after she had to drive. But Azzi has been a little blinded by the filthy thoughts that have been playing through her head all night, and was under the impression they’d fuck against the front door the minute they got home.

She’s already waited two weeks, she reminds herself. Paige only needs a drink or two—they don’t want to be drunk, not tonight—so what’s a couple more minutes?

“It’s kinda hot in here,” Paige says abruptly, and when Azzi looks at her, her cheeks flush. “Isn’t it?”

Azzi’s a little warm, but it’s mostly a mix of the alcohol and pure horniness, so she shakes her head. “Feels okay to me.”

“Oh,” Paige says, and then takes a long swig of her seltzer. She offers up that strange, wavering smile again.

Azzi studies her. This is her best friend, the girl she knows better than she knows herself. Paige is practically an extension of her at this point, it’s that easy for them to read each other. But right now, Paige is acting strange in a way Azzi can’t quite place. She’s been flirting like normal all night, but now that they’re alone she’s putting space between them. And that’s not to mention the blushing, the weird smiling, and the need for a drink.

As Paige takes an extra-long gulp of seltzer, it finally clicks where Azzi has seen this behavior from her: Back in high school, not long into their relationship, the first time they had sex.

She’s nervous.

But, no, that can’t be it, can it? They’ve slept together countless times in the four years since then. Paige knows Azzi’s body like the back of her hand. There’s no reason to be nervous.

Sure that she’s got it all wrong, Azzi crosses over to Paige, watching the way Paige’s gaze falters as she sidles up to her. “Hey,” she says, wrapping her arms around Paige’s neck, “you good?”

Paige blinks, then swallows thickly. “Me? Yeah, I’m all good.” She takes a sip from her drink. “Why you asking?”

Azzi hums, bringing a hand down to guide Paige’s free one to her waist—something she usually never has to do, as Paige tends to be pretty handsy. “You’re acting…weird, all of a sudden.”

Paige gives her a long, hard look, and Azzi thinks she’s about to deny it again but then Paige is sighing and setting her drink on the counter behind her, wrapping both arms around Azzi’s waist. “I guess I feel a little…nervous, for some reason?” she shakes her head, locks her hands behind Azzi’s back as if to steady them. “I’on know, bro. It’s stupid.”

Azzi shakes her head, playing with the baby hairs at the nape of Paige’s neck. “It’s not stupid.”

“Kinda is,” Paige says, chuckling at herself but it’s a shaky, breathy sound.

“Hey,” Azzi says gently, bringing a hand up to brush a stray strand of hair from Paige’s face, “if you’re not up to it, we don’t have to.” (Even though she spent the entire night suffering through a thong up her ass. The things we do for love.)

But Paige firmly shakes her head, gripping Azzi’s waist more tightly just to show how much she means it. “No, I don’t—you have no idea how much—“

“Yes, I do,” Azzi says incredulously. “I really fucking do.”

Paige’s breath hitches, and her gaze flicks down to Azzi’s lips. Azzi does the same, allured by the shiny gloss there, knowing it’s vanilla flavored from their previous chaste kisses tonight. She wants to taste more of it. Wonders if Paige’s lotion is vanilla, too.

“P,” she murmurs. Paige’s eyes don’t waver away when she hums, “Yeah?”

“Don’t be nervous,” she says quietly, bringing a hand down to cup her cheek, which gets Paige to look at her. “You know me,” she almost whispers.

Slowly, Paige nods, and when she leans down to connect their lips, Azzi nearly groans at the slight contact. It’s chaste to the point of innocent but it’s something, and they’re alone, and god does Paige look so good in this outfit. Paige readjusts, shifting so their legs are slotted together as she deepens the kiss just slightly, and Azzi reminisces on how she’s been waiting for this all night. Since that fateful night at Ted’s, really.

With Paige’s leg between her thighs, Azzi takes the opportunity to bare down, just slightly, only enough to increase the tension between her legs more than relieve it. But Paige groans into her mouth at the feeling and it lights her senses on fire.

They found a good dynamic years ago, and it’s one in which Paige often leads, allowing Azzi to follow without giving her the responsibility of being the first to move, to make decisions—something she’s always been more hesitant with. The past six months they’ve experimented some, stepping out of the comfort zone they had in high school and trying new things. But they still found that, for the most part, Paige prefers to lead, and Azzi prefers to be led—it just works.

But, even now, as Azzi dips her tongue into Paige’s mouth and brushes it against her’s, Paige still seems a little withheld. It’s obvious that she’s overthinking this, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why—this is big for them. They’ve talked about their feelings and gone on their first date and this feels a little like the last step in a routine that will throw them back into that all-consuming, intense relationship they had in high school. Which is exciting, and it feels natural, like it’s only the right thing to do—but it’s a little scary, too. And, knowing she’s being expected to lead, Paige is worried about getting it wrong. Messing up, somehow.

So when Azzi pushes against the fabric of Paige’s blazer, letting it slip off her shoulders, it’s not really a conscious thought that she’s taking over this time. It’s just—something she needs to do. And, if the absolute fire in her belly says anything, it’s something she wants to do, too.

Opening her mouth a little wider, Azzi sucks Paige’s tongue gently between her lips, drawing it out slightly, and when she pulls off it she opens her eyes to find Paige with her mouth wide open, tongue out, barely five minutes into kissing and already looking so desperate for her.

The sight makes Azzi groan a little, her eyes trailing from Paige’s lips, to the curve of her jaw, to her slender neck, and without thinking about it she slides her hands around Paige’s throat, squeezing experimentally. It elicits the right reaction, Paige’s eyes widening, hands sliding down to Azzi’s ass.

Pulling her close again, Azzi ducks down, moving a hand to the side to kiss sloppily at the skin revealed there. Paige sighs, always having liked being kissed on the neck, and Azzi mutters, “Marks?”

There’s a slight pause, Azzi’s lips hovering just shy of kissing the skin of Paige’s neck, and as soon as Paige hums out a noise of affirmation, she’s basically attacking her, tongue soothing over skin as she sucks hungrily. Her hips grind instinctively down on Paige’s knee as her hands slide lower, down her chest to squeeze her tits through her thin tank. Paige gasps, using her leverage on Azzi’s ass to pull her down harder on her leg. At this point, she’s sure she’s soaking through her fancy lingerie just listening to the little noises Paige is making, and suddenly, Azzi feels hungry. The kind of hungry that tends to be insatiable.

As soon as the thought comes to her, her hands fly to the button of Paige’s jeans, staring down to watch her hands work it open. Paige watches, too, then brings a hand up to Azzi’s cheek. Azzi halts her movements, looking up at her, searching her face for any sign to stop and finding a little hesitancy there. “Hey,” she says, “you good?”

Paige nods, then glances furtively down at Azzi’s hands. “I don’t think I’m ready for—your fingers.”

Soothing her hands across Paige’s hips, Azzi nods, pressing a tender kiss to her cheek. “I know, baby,” she says—Paige has always needed a good amount of buildup before any actual intrusion. “Wasn’t gonna use my fingers.”

Paige blinks, thoughts obviously a little sluggish as it takes a moment for the words to register, but once she does, she nods eagerly. “Shit. Okay.”

With one last peck on the lips, Azzi’s fingers get back to work, and as she slides the jeans down her legs she goes down with them, dropping slowly to her knees. She helps Paige step out of the pants and then tosses them to the side, looping her arms around her thighs and urging her to widen her stance. She presses a few comforting kisses to Paige’s pelvic bone and across her hips, breathing in the familiar scent of her as her kisses stray lower. As she licks up the inside of a thigh, her eyes open, glancing at the girl’s boxers and the wet patch growing on them. Feeling quite proud of herself, she smirks, biting at her thigh and relishing in the way Paige hisses.

“Stop messin’ with me,” Paige breathes, bringing a hand to Azzi’s head and trying to move her closer to her cunt.

“Uh-uh,” Azzi says, using a hand of her own to move Paige’s firmly away. When she looks up at her, Paige looks wrecked, which does amazing things to Azzi’s ego considering she hasn’t even touched her yet. Loving the expression on Paige’s face—lips slightly parted, eyes fluttering, the picture of submission—she decides to try and coax more out of her. “No touching,” she adds, something Paige likes to do whenever she’s being particularly needy. When Paige starts to protest, she moves her hand to her clothed clit and rubs harshly, cutting her off. “You heard me, baby.”

Paige’s eyebrows furrow, either from pleasure or annoyance or, more likely, both. “Azzi, please—“

“Shh,” Azzi soothes, removing her thumb and licking a stripe up her boxers—the faintest taste of her already addictive. “Be patient.”

She expects more resistance—the few times they’ve switched roles like this, it takes at least an orgasm for Paige to take her commands. But today must be different—is different—and Paige dutifully shuts up, using her hands to brace herself against the counter as she tilts her head down to watch.

Pleased, Azzi removes her boxers, salivating at the pretty pink peeking out from between her legs, and it’s all she can do when she uses her thumbs to spread her open, groaning when she gets a good look at the familiar, dripping folds. “So pretty,” she can’t help but mumble, leaning forward to press a kiss against her, licking her lips to taste the arousal left there. Paige’s hips buck, and Azzi gives her a sharp slap to the thigh. Paige nearly whines, which is kinda new—they’ll have to experiment with it later. “What’d I say, hm?” she asks, unable to keep herself from pressing her tongue between her cunt lips and licking upward, eyes nearly rolling into the back of her head at the taste. “Be patient.”

“Fuck,” Paige gasps above her.

It takes every ounce of self-restraint in Azzi’s body to not just dive in and devour her like a woman starved. It’s been far too long since she went down on Paige, even before their two weeks of celibacy, and she wants nothing more than to push her tongue inside and draw out as much slick as she can. But she also knows all too well that Paige likes to be ate slow. So, slow it is, as she licks up around her folds, tongue dragging delicately over her clit.

Her eyes fall shut, focusing on how wet Paige is against her tongue, dipping just slightly into her hole where the taste is the strongest and reveling at how good it is.

When Paige makes a high-pitched noise in the back of her throat, Azzi looks up at her, watching her reaction as she gently sucks her clit into her mouth. Paige is leaning back against the counter, cunt pressed into Azzi’s face desperately, and it’s obvious she’s trying to keep still. But when Azzi’s tongue flicks against her clit as she sucks, Paige can’t help but gasp, hips bucking just slightly.

With painted nails, Azzi squeezes her thigh just enough to get her attention. When Paige looks down at her, she pulls off her clit with a wet noise and says, “Hold your shirt up, babe.”

It’s amazing how quickly Paige obeys, rucking her tank up to reveal her bare chest, nipples pink and hard. Azzi doesn’t even try to stop herself from reaching up to play with one of them as she dives back into her pussy.

Her clit is already puffy, sensitive to her every touch based off the way Paige moans when she flicks her tongue against it. She licks little shapes, taking note of which ones draw the most sound out of the older girl. It’s mostly for her own benefit when she traces the letters of her own name on her pussy, but Paige whines high-pitched and needy like she knows.

Azzi pulls away just enough to see that her clit is an angrier pink now, twitching almost imperceptibly, and she gives it a break, moving lower to suck around her hole, drinking the copious juices she’s teased out. When she presses her tongue inside, she finds much less resistance than last time, and her fingers itch to be inside her.

This time, when she pulls away, Paige whines again—the sound a mix of frustration and desperation—and Azzi soothes a hand up the inside of her thigh. Paige’s eyes are hooded now as they lock with Azzi’s, and Azzi smiles up at her. “Hey,” she mutters.

“Uh-huh,” Paige breathes, nearly panting at this point.

“Think you’re ready?” Azzi asks. Paige gives her a quizzical look and she holds up her right hand in explanation. “Wanna finger you.”

As if on their own accord, Paige’s hips jerk forward. When she says, “Yes,” it’s nothing more than a breathy little sigh, but it’s enough.

Nodding, her eyes go back to Paige’s cunt, gaze immediately going to her hole, clenching around nothing. She brings two fingers up and dips inside, then drags them through her pretty folds, making sure they’re plenty wet. And then, without another warning, she plunges into her pussy, moaning as she’s immediately swallowed by wet heat.

Paige’s reaction is visceral, hips pressing down to meet her halfway, hands falling to her head, previous no-touching rules forgotten. Azzi decides to let it go, though, as she watches Paige’s features contort beautifully, pleasure etched into every sound she makes.

Azzi pulls out, presses deeper. Does it again, and then stays inside long enough to push up against her walls.

It’s then that Paige starts talking.

“Oh, fuck, Azzi,” she breathes, still generally pretty quiet, something Azzi plans to have changed once she’s done with her. “You feel so—good, Az, fingers feel so fucking good.”

“Yeah?” Azzi coos. She loves it when Paige gets to the babbling stage of fucking, and is quick to egg her on. “You like that, huh?”

“Mm-hmm, missed it—needed it—I don’t—“ she chokes on her sentence when Azzi plunges particularly deep. “Oh, baby, right there. So fucking good at that.”

“I know,” she murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to Paige’s clit. “You missed me, right? Missed this?”

“Of course I—“ she gasps, arches forward, “did.”

Suddenly, Azzi speeds up, filthy squelching sounds filling the room as her fingers move relentlessly inside Paige, palm coming to meet her clit again and again. Paige mewls, shifting a little, and Azzi uses her free hand to hoist her leg over her shoulder, allowing for a better angle.

“Oh!” Paige cries out, hands gripping Azzi’s head for leverage. “Oh, oh fuck. Baby, baby—mm, so deep—Azzi, more.”

“More?” Azzi asks, pulling her eyes away from where she’s wrecking Paige’s cunt to double-check. Paige usually can’t take more than two.

“Uh-huh,” Paige nods fervently.

Azzi doesn’t slow down, concern about hurting the other girl cutting through her own haze of pleasure. “You sure?”

“Yes,” Paige says, exasperation filling her voice.

“I just don’t want to hurt y—“

“Azzi, if you don’t give me another finger right now I swear to God—“

That’s all it takes for Azzi to pause her movements, pulling out enough to add another finger, and finding it surprisingly easy when she slides back in again. It’s not long before she builds up to her earlier rhythm, Paige’s hips moving against her hand, and then wet sounds are filling the room again, slick trailing down Azzi’s wrist.

Somewhere between Paige’s high-pitched moans and desperate little whines, she calls Azzi’s name. Azzi presses a kiss to her belly and says, “Yeah?”

“Can you—?” there’s hesitance in her tone that gives Azzi pause, movements slowing once again to look up at her.

“What’s up?” she prompts, gently as possibly through the arousal scraping rough against her vocal chords.

“Just, come here,” Paige finally says, hands moving from Azzi’s head to her shoulders, urging her up.

Azzi softens, mind becoming a little less cloudy at the request. Carefully, she eases Paige’s leg off her shoulder, then works up to her feet, keeping her fingers firmly inside Paige all the while. As soon as she’s up, Paige’s arms go around her shoulders, pulling her in, and Azzi smiles softly at the absolutely fucked-out, but undeniably lovesick, look on the other girl’s face.

Pressing a kiss to Paige’s cheek, she starts moving again, staying close so that Paige’s lips are right by her ear, hearing every sound she makes.

“I love you,” Paige mutters, forehead dropping onto Azzi’s shoulder.

Azzi presses a smile into Paige’s hairline, the gesture so innocent compared to the hand between her legs. “Love you, too, P.”

At that, Paige chokes on a moan, only just managing a feeble, “I’m close.”

Azzi nods, doubling her efforts. “Take your time, baby.”

“Mm-hmm,” Paige hums, but then she’s reiterating, “oh, fuck, Azzi, I’m really fuckin’ close.”

To be honest, Azzi is, too. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s come untouched, deriving pleasure from the simple act of giving it to Paige. But she holds back, forces herself to focus on the girl in her arms, running her free hand up and down Paige’s waist. “Yeah? About to come?”

Paige grasps her tighter, too fucked out to respond, but her following whines are answer enough.

“Give it to me, P,” she urges, knowing words are always the last thing Paige needs to tip her over the edge. “Wanna feel you coming all over my fingers, okay? Need you to show me how good I make you feel.”

Paige nods, and Azzi coos a, “Good, girl,” into her ear, and that’s all it takes for Paige’s hips to stutter, abs tightening as she spasms around Azzi’s fingers, crying out her name like it’s the only word she remembers. And at this point, it might be.

It takes awhile for her to come down, letting Azzi continue to thrust slowly for another minute or so before finally pushing her away. “Too much,” she breathes.

“Okay, baby,” Azzi says, pulling out slowly, bringing her hand up to Paige’s lips once she’s done. Paige doesn’t hesitate to take them into her mouth and suck, and it’s as she runs her tongue between her fingers that Azzi is reminded of just how magical her mouth is. Trying to sound casual, Azzi takes her hand back and says, “Hey, you all done?”

Paige is panting, hands going down to hold Azzi by the waist, looking as if she can barely hold herself up—but still, she shakes her head. “Nah, I can go for more.”

“Good,” Azzi says, stepping out of Paige’s grasp with a sly smile. Paige opens her mouth to protest but then Azzi swiftly pulls her shirt over her head, revealing her lavender lacy bra which leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. Whatever Paige was about to say dies in her throat. “I may have planned for this when I was getting ready.”

Her pants are still on—Paige hasn’t even had the pleasure of seeing the garter yet—but already her jaw is practically on the floor. “Oh, shit.”

“Uh-huh.” Reaching out, she takes Paige’s hand in her own, leading her down the familiar path to Paige’s room. “You can thank Caroline, by the way. Was her idea.”

“For real?” Paige asks as they enter the bedroom. She plops down on the edge of the bed, watching as Azzi locks the door behind them. Her eyes rake not-so-subtly over her frame as she watches her. “I’ll send her a card and flowers for this shit.”

Azzi laughs breathily, leaning against the doorframe.

Paige raises her eyebrows and then reaches behind her head, pulling her own shirt off and discarding it on the floor. “Aight, I think I can feel my legs again. Lay down, mama.” She smiles deviously. “I’m bouta get you right.”

—————————————

Paige has never been a good liar—which is clear, considering twenty minutes later she has her head between Azzi’s thighs, making her legs shake as she eats her relentlessly.

She’s already put on the strap, and this is her way of getting Azzi ready—alternating between eating her slow and then absolutely devouring her, pulling away every time she gets close to the edge, overstimulating her without even making her come.

“Paige, please,” she basically cries out for the nth time since they started. “I need you.”

Paige only smirks from between her legs, quite cocky considering she just got fucked into oblivion less than an hour ago. “What was it you said to me earlier? About being patient?”

Azzi rolls her eyes (though it may be more from the way Paige sucks on her folds than how annoying she is). “Mm—shut up, you liked it.”

Paige sure as hell isn’t about to admit that. Of course, though, she had enjoyed it, had reveled in the pleasure she took from giving up control, letting herself be told what to do. But now it’s Azzi’s turn, and she needs to regain control of the situation-hence, the edging. “Do you want me to fuck you?” she asks, muffled in Azzi’s pussy. “Or not?”

Azzi can’t say no to that, obviously, but still sounds a little ashamed when she lets out a meek little, “Yes.”

Paige quirks an eyebrow up at her. “Yeah? You done bossing me around?”

Azzi doesn’t respond to that, lips forming into a cute little pout that’s also reminiscent of the face she makes when she gets bratty. Chuckling, Paige shakes her head, pressing a lingering kiss to her clit. “I’on think so, baby. You had your fun.” Slowly, she crawls her way back up the bed, Azzi scooching up with her. “Now you’re gonna tell me watchu want. And you’re gonna be polite about it.”

The demanding tone in Paige’s voice is usually enough to set Azzi right, but she must’ve gotten too big a head after her little stunt earlier because now she doesn’t say anything, just looks at Paige a little defiantly.

Admittedly, she looks adorable, and Paige wants to kiss that look off her face. But she can’t let Azzi think that this is how it’s gonna be now. “Alright, pretty girl. If that’s how you’re gonna be, I’ma get right back down there and make you come on my tongue. You won’t get no strap tonight.”

At that threat (which is baseless, considering Paige is absolutely going to strap Azzi down one way or another tonight) Azzi’s eyes widen, and she shakes her head. “Okay, okay, no, I’m sorry, I don’t—I need you inside, Paige. Please?”

Grinning, Paige leans down and kisses her forehead. “That’s what I thought.”

Taking the silicon in her hand, Paige balances on one elbow as she drags it slowly through Azzi’s folds, taking extra care to bump the head against her swollen clit. When Azzi gasps, her eyes flit to her face, checking that she’s okay. “You ready, baby girl?”

Azzi hesitates, looking down at the toy between them. “It’s bigger than the last one.”

It’s true—this is a new strap, one Azzi herself actually suggested, claiming she wanted to try something bigger. They still have their last one, just in case this doesn’t work out, and Paige is about to remind her of that when Azzi shakes her head to herself and says, “It’s okay, I’m good.”

“You sure?” Paige asks suspiciously. “Because if it’s too big…”

“Nope. I’m sure.”

“Babe, we don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna.”

Azzi’s eyes move down to follow the cock, watching as Paige moves it methodically through her soaking folds, and her eyes grow a little wider. “Yeah, okay, I’m definitely sure.”

Amused, Paige watches as the younger girl stares, incredibly hungrily, at the toy. “Okay, princess. You gotta tell me if it hurts, though, okay?”

“I will,” Azzi promises. With that, Paige guides the tip down to her entrance, pushing her hips forward and against the resistance she finds there, studying Azzi’s face carefully.

After a moment, the head slides in, and Azzi gasps, wincing a little. “You good?” Paige asks, taking her hand off the cock to stroke Azzi’s cheek.

“Good,” Azzi confirms, swallowing thickly as her eyes meet Paige’s. “Just—go slow.”

“‘Course,” Paige says, leaning forward to press their foreheads together as she pushes in further. “Sweet girl,” she murmurs, mostly to distract her, “y’look so pretty like this, mama.”

She’s about halfway in at this point and Azzi gasps again, breathing out a word that sounds enough like a stop for Paige to halt. “Too much?”

Azzi’s knees are bent, feet flat against the mattress as Paige lays between them, but now she readjusts, wrapping them around Paige’s back for better leverage. “Okay,” she says once she’s done, giving Paige a little nod. “I’m good, keep going.”

Not loving the bossy tone of her voice, Paige makes a face at her. “Manners, princess.”

Azzi frowns but still lets out a little, “Please,” anyway.

With that, Paige jerks her hips, burying the dildo inside to the hilt. Azzi cries out, surprised and left breathless from the sheer stretch of it. “Shit,” she breathes, “so much for going slow.”

“Mm,” Paige hums, ducking down to kiss into Azzi’s neck. “‘S what you get for being bratty.”

“Yeah, okay,” Azzi sighs—Paige can’t tell if she’s being sarcastic or actually conceding—and her head falls to the side, allowing more access to her neck, which Paige already marked up earlier.

“I good to move?” Paige asks.

“I think so,” Azzi replies, breath still caught from the sudden fullness.

Paige rocks her hips back, eyes flitting from Azzi’s face to her pussy, unable to keep from watching as she slides back in, eyes widening as she watches her cunt swallow it whole, basically sucking her in.

When she does it again, a little more smoothly this time, Azzi fists the bedsheets so hard her knuckles turn white. “Mmph—so deep, P.”

“Yeah? Feel good?” she asks lowly, rutting her hips flush into her when Azzi nods, building a steady rhythm. Her eyes land on Azzi’s face, contorted with pleasure, then rove down over her body—her neck, her tits, her stomach—until she lands back on the strap. The sight has her leaning down on her elbows, heart racing as she breathes deep to steady herself.

Picking up the pace just a little, Paige lifts herself up, watching as Azzi’s eyebrows furrow, her fists tight in the sheets. The bed is starting to squeak now, which just turns her on even more if that’s possible, and she nuzzles her nose into the crook of Azzi’s neck, muttering, “Hold on to me, baby, it’s okay.”

Azzi’s arms come up to loop around her neck before she’s even done with the sentence, and Paige smirks, pressing a few kisses into her cheek. “How’s it feel, hm? How deep am I?”

“So fucking deep,” Azzi breathes, and it shouldn’t come as a surprise how close she sounds considering Paige has been working her towards the edge for awhile now.

Paige brings a hand down between their bodies, using it to rub a few tight circles against Azzi’s clit, stopping when she starts whining. And Azzi makes a sound of protest but it’s quickly cut off by a moan when Paige’s hand moves instead to press against her lower abdomen, pushing down hard enough to feel the strap moving inside her.

“Baby, baby, please,” Azzi slurs, crying out in time with Paige’s thrusts, “right there—keep doing that, fuck.”

Who would Paige be to tell her no? There’s that whiny edge to her tone, all desperate and needy, a telltale sign she’s getting close. Pressing down a little harder on her stomach, Paige speeds up significantly, angling her hips up in an attempt to hit that spot deep inside.

Based off the high-pitched moan Azzi let’s put, it works.

“Shit, look at that,” Paige says when she looks between them again. The strap is soaking now, and so are the bedsheets, a mix of Paige and Azzi’s arousal leaking down onto them. Angling her hand down, Paige uses her fingers to spread her lips open, groaning as she gets a better view of Azzi’s cunt swallowing the entire dick. “Taking it so good, mama. Fuck, that pussy crying for my dick, huh?”

“Paige, fuck, yes,” Azzi gasps, clawing almost desperately at Paige’s shoulders.

“Close?” Paige asks, trying to gauge where she’s at based off the way her legs are beginning to shake, noises becoming less breathy, more insistent.

Azzi nods, maybe all she can manage at this point, and Paige rocks forward deep, pleased with the way Azzi’s mouth falls open, tits bouncing with each thrust.

They’re silent for a few moments, nothing but the sound of the bedframe fighting for its life and Azzi’s pussy squelching around her cock filling the room. “Hear that?” she asks, using her fingers to rub harshly against her clit, only adding to the filthy sounds in the room. “Best pussy in the world, baby. And it’s mine, huh?”

Azzi only manages a pathetic “uh-huh”, and that’s just not good enough for Paige. “Nah, you gotta tell me, princess. Tell me whose pussy this is and I’ll let you come, okay?”

It takes Azzi a moment, probably trying to gather her scattered thoughts, before she whines out a needy little, “Yours, fuck, my pussy’s all fucking yours.”

Nodding, Paige presses a kiss to Azzi’s parted lips. “That’s right, mama. You wanna come?”

Tears are gathering at the corners of Azzi’s eyes when she nods, and it only spurs Paige on further. “Go ahead, pretty girl. Come all fuckin’ over my dick. Lemme feel it, baby.”

And that’s all Azzi needs, her back arching off the bed, moaning all high-pitched as she comes, pussy clenching around the dildo, nails scratching down Paige’s back, leaving her shuddering. She doesn’t stop, though, rolling her hips deep into Azzi’s through every tremor, only stilling when Azzi shakes her head, tapping against Paige’s hip.

She gives her a moment to catch her breath before saying, “Can I pull out?”

“Uh-huh,” Azzi sighs, throwing an arm across her face as Paige slowly eases out of her. She manages to get the strap off and tosses it onto the floor, a problem for future them to deal with, before laying next to Azzi, pulling her into her chest. She chuckles at Azzi’s blissed-out expression, and Azzi’s eyes open at the sound, peering at her a little sleepily.

“You laughing?” she asks, no real accusation in her tone.

“At you? Never,” Paige jokes. Azzi slaps her chest, collapsing back onto it, sighing as she wraps a leg around Paige’s waist. She’s not the touchiest person in general, and Paige finds it endearing how snuggly she gets after sex.

Her hands begin to run up and down Azzi’s bare back, and when she hears Azzi sigh, she’s quick to speak, trying to catch the younger girl before she inevitably falls asleep. “Hey,” she says, “you okay?”

“Mm,” Azzi hums.

“Was it good?” Paige asks, even though she already knows the answer.

“Very,” Azzi replies, cuddling closer into Paige’s neck. “Missed you.”

“Two weeks is too long,” Paige agrees. Azzi chuckles softly, and Paige angles her head to look at her, only to find that her eyes are closed and her lips are slightly parted.

“Why are you tryna sleep,” Paige very nearly whines.

Azzi lifts her head lazily, resting her chin on Paige’s chest to raise an eyebrow at her. “Because you just fucked the shit outta me. I’m tired.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Paige sighs dreamily.

Rolling her eyes, Azzi lays her head back down, settling back into her. “Lemme sleep, okay? I need some energy for the morning sex tomorrow.”

“F’real?” Paige can’t keep the excitement out of her tone at this.

Azzi shrugs coyly, yawns. “If you’re good.”

Internally, Paige vows to be the absolute best. Even if it means no yapping.

Her silence only lasts a few moments but, surprisingly, it’s Azzi who speaks. “And, babe?”

“Yeah?”

“You’d better ask me to be your girlfriend tomorrow.”

(Paige does, in fact, ask Azzi to be her girlfriend ‘again’, as she puts it. Azzi, of course, says yes.)

(Oh, also, Caroline does receive a thank you letter and a bouquet of flowers in the mail a few days later. Confused, she opens the letter, to find it reads, “Thx for helping azzi pick that fit for our date. you’re a g mama carol. p.s. the sex was ridiculously good.” Caroline sends a photo of it to Azzi, wondering why she needed to know about the sex. Azzi replies with a shrugging emoji and a, “She’s not lying though”.)

[rockinlibrarian]

For the fic writer ask game: 7, 18, 22!

Thank you for the asks! If you would like to ask from this ask game, the list is here! If you would like to ask from the music related ask game I reblogged yesterday, you can do that one, too!

So #7: How many ideas for fics do you have right now?

That's a tricky question, because I'm not sure where I draw the line between "idea" and "work in progress," because when I get an idea I tend to jot down a bit of it to get a feel for it, and then I never quite give up on it, so it's KIND OF in progress, but it's more just, there? Okay, I count seven such docs in my fic Scrivener file, "WIP"s that aren't actually "IP." (For comparison's sake, there's an additional 3 in Scrivener I can more confidently call WIPs and not just ideas, even though I haven't been working on them within the past couple weeks, and 1 that is the WIP I'm currently focusing my energies on). And I can think of three more off the top of my head that aren't in Scrivener. And I do occasionally think of one that was me jumping off with a suggestion somebody made on Tumblr once but I have NOT started in any way because I don't have the slightest idea where to begin-- it's action-based, and action isn't really my forte. But who knows, I do still think about it sometimes.

18. What’s one of your favorite lines you’ve written in a fic?

Huh. I don't know. Here's a whole bunch:

--Kerry suspected the reason her brother and Oliver Bird had hit it off so well was less because they were two mutant freaks with dreams of mutant liberation and more because they’d finally found, in each other, someone they didn’t have to dumb down their vocabularies for.

--“He gets to communicate with Alpha Centauri and I’m not even allowed to join the wrestling team?!”

--“I, on the other hand, have lots of common interests.” That didn’t sound as impressive as he’d meant it to.

--“We were just assaulted by your ex-girlfriend!” “Note the use of the prefix ‘ex-’! She’s very old news and will not be bothering anyone ever again. Whereas my current girlfriend will be delighted to bother us all for the rest of our lives, which is why I am here.” He paused as if to reset the mood for the grand announcement he’d intended. “It is my great pleasure to invite you all to my wedding.”

--My prior hist’ry with this one’s (forgive me) discommodius (this one is much better in context, but trust me, it's probably one of my favorite lines I've ever written EVER

--“I’ve been studying this thing for years, in person, and still can’t make heads or tails. Then I read your papers and you’re there writing it intimate love poetry from across the country.”

--“You don’t have lungs!” Oliver looked triumphant. “You must have been having a psychosomatic reaction to the impression of a smoky room which I was projecting into your mind! Write that down.”

--"I’m not the one who can’t appreciate the magnitude of scientific achievement we have here!”

--“Frank’s DEAD!” “So I heard. There’s also this obituary hanging on the wall.” “You didn’t tell me Frank was DEAD.” “He wasn’t dead last time.”

--“Please don’t swear in front of the Aslan-in-a-Bucket,” a crisp American voice interrupted from somewhere above him. “He may be just an artificial construct programmed to behave as the real Aslan, but it still feels irreverent.”

--“Pfft,” Billy said. “Who doesn’t know a ruddy Aslan-in-a-Bucket when they see one; what are they teaching you kids these days?”

--"I’m here to save you from your reckless stupidity.” “Good! I must admit my stupidity is so profound that I haven’t the slightest idea what you just said.”

Yes, that makes FOUR taken from "The Pipeweed Mafia Epic," a work that is pretty much just a long private joke between me and my friend who is the inspiration for the character speaking with the "crisp American voice" above, but I don't care, they're MY favorite lines, dangit

--“And who might you be, Mademoiselle?” “Imminently unemployed,” Sir Reginald snapped.

--“Is it possible, or am I imagining it, that we are watching an eldritch Horror play the glockenspiel?” “Ben has named her Jennifer, and she’s becoming quite adept.”

Okay, I'll shut up now. There's also a line I want to include from the Firefly fic I started writing a decade ago and still haven't finished, but I can't find it at the moment. It still makes me laugh whenever I think of it though.

This is how I count to "one."

22. Do you know how your fic will end before you start writing?

It depends on the fic. For many, especially those glorified ideas, I probably don't. But others, short fiction being what it is, come in one lump and that includes the ending. The ending was actually the second thing I wrote for my current most IP WIP, "The Magic Man of Oz," and the first was the opening, because my whole drive for taking that on was to get to experiment with Oliver being the narrator, and the beginning and ending would be where his voice would be the strongest. Otherwise, I'm kind of notoriously bad at writing endings, even if I do know what HAPPENS last-- it's hard to actually end it!

[essektheylyss]

It is wild to me how many people are like, "hahaha op's speech did nothing," as if I am running and participating in these polls to get validation for my blorbo. If I just wanted to be content with my blorbo, I would absolutely not be tossing him up on a platform to be heckled for a week straight. I would be retreating to some echo chamber Discord server to experience the emotional equivalent of everyone gathering around and petting a puppy.

I literally do not think Essek is going to win this poll! I do not think he is going to win the tournament! I seeded Laerryn number one for a reason! For a number of factors I think it would be very difficult for anyone to beat her! I literally put him and Laerryn on the same side of the bracket so that they would not end up in the final, because I did not think it was going to be an interesting fight! We as a fandom beat "Laerryn could smash any wizard in Exandria without contest" into the ground weeks ago! I considered writing a stump speech just for kicks for every semifinalist, because I like to argue things and I love playing up a ridiculous and meaningless kayfabe!

But like, Laerryn has swept many polls, and it's deeply boring to me if she wins in a landslide. I am a polling nerd, and I can confirm that no one watches landslide races. They are not interesting. And this is fully just for the fun of it, so I am gonna make it interesting.

If there's no challenge, no consideration of how the other side might win, then what the fuck is the point of running a tournament?

In conclusion:

[mischievousmoony]

hi, ok i have another idea for a fic which again totally up to you to write!! but i had an idea with dad!james and r where their kid is like equally obsessed with their mum as james is with r and one day james decides to prank their kid by saying something bad about the r while their kid is present and the baby just goes off. i feel like you would do an amazing job with this! feel free to ignore too. have a perfectly splendid day!!

-🪷

"the baby just goes off" painted a hilarious picture of an infant yelling at his dad in my mind lmao. ty for the request this warmed my heart to write + special thanks to @moonpascal for chatting a little about kids, gave me the reassurance & inspiration i needed

𝚋𝚞𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚜

⟢ dad!james potter x fem!reader ⊹ 1.1k ⟢ warnings/tags: fluff, dad/husband!james, mom/wife!reader, no use of y/n, no name for the son, idk how to write a child's dialogue tbh son's supposed to sound 4 years old

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

James gladly goes out of his way to mention to anyone who will listen that his little one is unmistakably a Mummy's boy. From family to friends to the poor souls who bag his groceries, James will talk the ear off of anyone he can.

He finds it to be the most endearing thing in the world— the way that your son is as obsessed with you as James is. Always staying close and clinging to you, touching affection radiating from every hug and smile.

Today, as he watches his son run back and forth across the carpet, handing his mother block after block just to see her face light up after each gift, his awe and admiration are insurmountable.

Last night, James surprised you with a pair of earrings that you have been wishing for. When your face lit up upon receiving the little leatherette box, so did your son's. He didn't quite understand why you were so excited about some cube, but since then he's been trying to replicate your excitement with presents of his own.

"Oh my! Another one! Thank you, buddy," you beam, you're gratefulness and delight unwavering as he hands you the sixth block.

Your son giggles, bouncing in his spot as you inspect each side of the little wooden toy, telling him how much you adore the blue penguin painted on one of its faces.

That's another thing that touches James' heart: the tender nurture and care that you bestow upon your son with such unwavering devotion and warmth. It has James convinced that you must be the best mum in the entire world.

He might just melt at the sight of you now, kneeling happily in front of a growing pile of blocks as your son scurries back and forth, adding to your collection. James sits cross-legged to your right, resting his elbow on his knee and laying his head in his hand, watching the two he loves most in the world with hearts in his eyes.

You gasp, as if surprised when handed block number seven. "Oh, this is my favorite one yet. How did you know I love zebras?" you ask, your thumb tracing over the red acrylic paint on the side of the block.

By the time you have twelve, nearly half of his collection, you say, "I have a lot of blocks here, buddy, do you want to give some to Daddy?"

"No!" your son protests immediately, running off to his toy box for the thirteenth time.

You and James both chuckle, exchanging amused glances. Finding your son's reaction hilarious, James’s mischievous side has him dreaming up new ways to push his buttons. Your son thinks the world of you, and James is curious to see what the little guy will do if he claims otherwise.

"Well, what am I gonna do with all of this? Should I..."

You leave your son in suspense for a moment, and his hands hover over his toy box as looks at you, hanging onto your every word in anticipation.

"...build a castle!?"

“Yeah!” your son cheers, scooping three more blocks into his arms, thrilled to supply the bricks for your castle.

James nudges you, a sign of his upcoming playfulness. “You sure about that, bud? Mummy is absolutely rotten at building castles.”

Halfway across the carpet, your son stops in his tracks, glaring at his father as he tries to keep his blocks from falling out of his arms.

Stifling a laugh, you press your fingertips to your lips. By now, you’re used to James’ bursts of mischief, and you’re more than happy to sit back and let them play out. Unless you’re an active participant, of course.

You muster up a scandalized gasp as he reaches for your mountain of presents, claiming three blocks in one hand.

“No!” your little one complains, rushing to drop his three in your lap to replace the ones that James stole, “those are Mummy’s!”

“You sure Mummy deserves all these blocks?” James asks, starting to stack them into a tower, “You watch, I’ll build a castle that’ll make her’s look like rubbish.”

Your son hastily makes his way over to his dad, both arms extended as he collides with the tower and sends the blocks flying. "Stop it," he says as he scoops up the nearest block and runs it back over to you, shouting, "Mummy's castles are the best!"

He climbs into your lap, clutching onto the toy tightly as one of your arms wraps around him, and you feel your heart start to melt as you rub soothing circles into his back. You look over your son's head, your eyes sparkling with affection as you meet your husband's tender gaze.

Not having the heart to mess with him for very long, James concedes, "You're right, I'm not being very nice, am I?"

"Nuh-uh!" your son replies, shaking his head with exaggeratedly vigor, the curls he gets from his dad bouncing about.

"What can I do to make it up to her?" James asks, turning the ordeal into a subtle lesson as he dramatically feigns sorrow and despair over his actions.

"'Pologize," your son commands, his head swiveling to look at James expectantly over his shoulder.

James puts on his most sheepish, apologetic smile, looking from his son to you. "I'm very sorry. He's right, your castles are the best. Can you forgive me, love?"

"Aw, of course I forgive you," you say warmly, your amusement manifesting as a wide smile. You lean back so you can get a good view of your son's face when you tell him, "You know, I bet what Daddy really wants is to build a castle with us. I love your presents, bud, but we don't want to leave Daddy out do we?"

He looks down at the block in his little hand. "No," he replies shyly.

"So why don't you ask him to build a castle with us?" You give him a pat on the back before releasing him from your arms. "Go on," you coax.

He steps closer to James, holding the block close to his chest. "We can all build a castle," he offers.

"Yeah?" James' face lights up, and it's not for show. Genuine joy takes over his features as he ruffles your son's hair, responding, "I'd love nothing more, little man."

"But you have to be nice to Mummy!" he demands, his little voice firm and earnest as he looks up at James with wide, serious eyes.

"I promise, I will be on my best behavior," James assures him, his voice sincere as he gives a playful salute. That's enough for your son, because he finally awards James with his very first block, which he accepts with pride.

"Good!" your son cheers, already moving on to the pile of blocks to start stacking them as he proclaims, "Mummy is the best, and we have to show it!"

Your lips part as you suck in a breath, a quiet gasp. Receiving your son's affection never fails to make your heart swell.

You don't feel James' eyes on you, but he's watching— admiring, more like, as he takes in the way that you soften at your son's sweet words. A smitten smile plays at his lips as he agrees, "She is the best, isn't she?"

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[youryanderedaddy]

When Life Gives Lemons

tw: female reader, technically non con because of stealthing, baby trapping, breeding, obsessive behavior, reader being a bit rude

You couldn’t believe the irony of your life. You were about to break up with your immature boyfriend, and he still managed to be grossly late to the date, unconsciously digging his own grave deeper. You had put on your best white shirt and the tightest skirt you owned, and you even went through the trouble of booking the latest hipster coffee shop close to the centre. He had been fifteen minutes late, to be exact, and when you brought it up, he simply shrugged a long sleazy smile, dragging his skeleton - shaped metal rings against the edge of the table.

“All in due time, princess.” He took a sip off his coffee - a single shot of espresso with no creamer, as always. “All in due time.” He repeated, reaching in his pocket for a pack of off - brand cigarettes. He really couldn’t afford any of the fancy ones. Once the cigarette was lit, he slowly brought it to his lips and inhaled deeply, letting his head relax against the chair. His thick neck tightened as he swallowed the deadly smoke, and even the sun seemed to avoid his messy dark locks, instead keeping the man in the shadows.

“What does that even mean?” You threw your hands around helplessly, sinking into your chair. “Don’t you want to know?” Axel teased, taking another puff. Although his expression was one of mild amusement, his sharp blue eyes were carefully following your every movement - wondering what will tip you off the most. “You know, you’re so fuckin’ hot when you’re mad, mami.” He smiled in a playful boyish way that once would have made you melt, but now only served as a reminder of his unserious nature.

“Stop playing around. I need to discuss something imp–”

“Shhh, don’t talk, babygirl. I need to show you something.” Axel interrupted, gripping the big guitar closer to his lap. ”I wrote you a song.” His thin fingers grazed the delicate transparent strings, forcing a catchy, although not fully polished melody out of the old thing. He took a deep breath, wetting his lips so the lyrics would come out softer. 

My girl knows how to set me

on flames she goes through 

the motions of the wind she

is a fireball, a fireball, on fire

“What the fuck, Axy.” You pounded your fists at the table, shaking the glasses and spilling coffee all over the wooden surface. You could feel everyone’s judging stare across your back, all of the other patrons were jeering and whispering about the two of you, and your cheeks were heating up by the moment. “I’ve told you countless times to stop writing those shitty songs. They don’t even rhyme, for fuck sake.” You whined, suddenly overwhelmed by helplessness. He was never going to change, was he? “This is exactly why I want to break up.”

The music stopped entirely. His dark sunglasses ended on the ground. 

“You wanna break up?” The musician repeated slowly, suddenly appearing awfully composed - so composed it made you look crazy. After that question he remained silent for a very long time, taking long drags off his cigarette while studying your face for any sign of your true feelings bleeding out. “Real’ funny, babe, real’ fun joke.” He forced a crooked smile, reaching in to squeeze your hand all the way through the table. “Now tell me, what’s wrong with the song? I stayed real’ late to compose it just for our date today.” He winked, which only made you feel worse.

“I am being serious, Axel. Let go of me.” Your tone turned icy and your ex boyfriend quickly released you, eyes filling with raw fear. “Wait, baby, we can talk about–”

“There is nothing to talk about. You’re such a child!” You blurted out, too frustrated to spare energy on fluttery words and sweet apologies. “I want to do my masters soon. You know I’m applying to Metwyorth - I can’t be seen hanging around with a high school dropout who does Saturday gigs for a living.” You continued, pursing your lips together. You knew you were being harsh, cruel even, but this was the only way to push him away. The musician could be awfully clingy, so you needed to be firm.

“A highschool dropout who made you scream your brains out.” Axel responded bitterly through clenched teeth, eyes growing dark with anger. You shook your head bashfully, avoiding his fiery gaze. “Sure, we had our fun,” You gestured vaguely at nothing in particular, trying to hide the shame blossoming on your sides. “But it’s time to wake up. I mean, be realistic. We live in different worlds.” You began to collect your things quickly, standing up to leave.

“Y/N!” He called out to you, causing you to turn back just for a second - you owed him that much for all the good memories you knew you both would have trouble forgetting. “You’re making a mistake. Please, think it through.” The man took a hold of your hand, caressing your fingers gently. “I know I can’t offer you much right now, but I really love you!” His eyes dilated, honest and clear like an untouched sea on a quiet day. 

“Goodbye, Axel.”

***

You meet him sooner that you’d like.

Two weeks later you’re drunk off your mind, dancing the night away with some of your girlfriends when you catch a pair of familiar eyes fluttering across your body from the other side of the room. It makes you feel hot all over - despite what you said back then, you felt each agonising moment of the break up. Even if the logical part of your brain knows you have no future with such a man, your body needs him, craves him. 

Axel keeps staring at you intensely, burning holes through your neck, your thighs, your lips. His yearning gaze lingers, completely miserable, and yet as lustful as the night he first wrapped his arms around you and claimed you as his. He can still feel your nails scratching his back red and bloody, sending shivers down his spine and setting fire in his loins. This staring game of yours lasts for approximately thirty minutes before he gives in and comes over to your table. He doesn’t say anything - doesn’t look at you or greet your friends, doesn’t even pretend to have any reason to approach you. He simply grabs you, swallows an airy pant, and drags you inside the bathroom.

You’re all over each other in no time. His hands are tangled in your hair and your nails are sinking into his warm flesh once again. You can’t breathe for a second, suffocated by a deep, longing kiss that he only spares you of once your lips start to turn blue. He licks your neck and bites at any spot vulnerable enough to steal a gasp out of you - and you return it by sucking on his collarbone until a purple hickey adorns his skin. You swiftly unzip his loose pants and start taking your dress off, but as you try to spread your legs, he turns you around facing the wall. 

“Fuck, I wanna do you from the back, princess.” Axel mumbles, one strong hand gripping your throat as the other gropes your breasts freely. You nod weakly, too turned on to comprehend any of the words he’s saying. “Ngh, wanna be able to pull your hair n’ shit.” His fist wraps around your ponytail, pulling slightly so you expose your neck to his teeth. You can already feel his throbbing manhood prob at your thighs, slowly moving towards your entrance. “Y-you have a condom on, right?” You manage to whimper through the little electric bursts of pleasure running through your whole body as he plays you like an instrument. He mumbles something like “yeah”, and in this state of mind that’s enough for you.

He starts sinking into your heat slowly, letting you adjust to his hard length inch by inch, then once you’ve settled, practically begging him to just give it to you, he begins thrusting painfully slow - really making you feel it going in and out, in and out in a perfect rhythm. Each time his cock brushes against your most sensitive spot, you’re reduced to a slick, desperate mess, but just as your thighs begin to go numb and you slip down, Axel catches both of your wrists and pins them to the wall, keeping you in place. You’re so wet you can hear the slap of skin on skin every time your gummy walls hug his member, but you’re too far gone to care about the nasty sound.

“F-fuck, baby, you’d be so fucking hot as a mother. Have you ever thought about it?” Your ex whispers against you, picking up the pace. You shake your head - kids have never been your priority, since you’re still so young and your education would always come first. “I thought about it. A lot, ‘n fact, when we were separated.” His heartbeat fastens. “Ugh, you’re still so tight, god…” His free hand dances at your hips, ogling and caressing any curve it can find. “When you dumped me, I was completely lost, ya know? Didn’t sober up for three days. But then I dreamt that I knocked you up accidentally. S-shit, did you just tighten up?”

Your whole body stiffens at his words. Your stomach fills with unexplainable dread - this whole conversation is turning you off, but somehow your body seems to have a mind of its own. 

“Q-quit it with the small talk, asshole.” You groan, pushing back so you’d get more friction between your legs. “Just fuck me, okay? I don’t need to hear your weird fantasies.” You hear yourself saying confidently despite the provocative position you’re currently stuck in - you can’t even see his face, but you know he’s probably laughing at your bossy comment. But instead he keeps blabbering on as if you’re not even there. “You were so beautiful, princess. So big and–” He bites his lower lip. “So fucking needy for me - just like now. You were dripping everywhere. You were so excited for our little baby.” He grunted hoarsely, reaching in to stroke your clit - and despite your best efforts, you let out a soft moan. 

“And we were a family - just you, n-ngh, me and the little guy.” Axel utters through clenched teeth, trying to hold out for as long as possible - savouring you in tiny little bites. “No stupid degrees or anythin’, just us two against the world.” He slows down further, now barely moving inside of you. It’s driving you crazy with anticipation - both his story and the way he’s fucking you. “And it made me think, we could really have all that - if it wasn’t for your stupid pride. All I need to do is knock you up. Just think about it.” The man grips your hips roughly, impaling you on his thickness. 

“Your tits will swell, your thighs will thicken; you’ll be so tired you’ll have to lay down all the time. You won’t even be able to touch yourself because of your belly.” He smiles at you gently, although you can’t see it. At this point you’re already so close to climax you can’t break through the cotton cloud haze that’s taken over your mind to truly focus. This is one of the reasons you had to break up with the musician - he could get you cockdrunk with a simple touch, and that vulnerability felt terrifying.

“And I will take care of you through every-” He kisses your cheek. “single–” He kisses you again. “step of the way.” He inhales deeply, thrusting in one final time before he spills inside you. “I love you, baby. I really can’t let you go.”

[lovelivision]

SLEEP OVER PT.1

pairing: fushiguro toji/reader

wc: 2.3k

summary: staying the night at your boyfriends place for the first time is nervewracking, especially when he seems to feel a certain way about you wearing his clothes

a/n; dilf dilf dilf dilf dilf dilf...uhm anyways...i lurv toji a lot and i needed to write something for him, i thought it would fix me but it may have made me worse :D also, i would like to write a part 2 for this maybe :3

warnings: 18+ only, smut, established relationship, tiny bit of possessiveness, (minor) size difference kink, heavy petting, dry humping, afab!reader, no use of pronouns or y/n, nicknames used; doll, ma'am (once in a joking way)

MDNI | SMUT UNDER CUT

Hovering in Toji’s kitchen, you try to make yourself seem more relaxed, you’ve been in his house plenty of times now but this time is different. This is the first time you’re staying the night, alone, in his house, with him.

Besides heavy petting, nothing more has ever happened between the two of you, to say you have expectations is an understatement. It doesn’t have to happen but you’ve been together for a little bit now and there’s only so long you can hold out, you mean, have you seen Toji?

He’s been patient, you were initially the one who said you didn’t want to rush things, you were scared of just being a lay and asked him to wait until you felt ready, which he has respected. He’s respected it…too well, barely making out before he’s parting from you. The sexual frustration you’ve been feeling has you wound so tight that you might literally implode as soon as he touches you.

From across the counter separating you, he teases, “You gonna help me over here? Or did you propose baking together just to watch me do it for you?”

“Well… I am enjoying the view,” you flirt back, playing off the stiffness in your joints.

He raises a brow at you, “How about you flirt with me while whisking that bowl right there,” he nods down to the bowl just off to his side.

“Yessir,” you stand at attention and throw a little salute his way.

When you round the bench to stand next to him, he bumps into your shoulder with his own, “You feeling okay, doll?”

You hum and look up at him, “Yeah, I’m good.”

It’s mostly quiet after that, aside from small talk and teasing remarks made while you finish prepping the ingredients. You told him that sleepovers needed brownies and he went out and bought stuff to make them, it was incredibly sweet and made you almost swoon on the spot when you showed up and he told you what he’d done.

Unluckily for you and your clumsy nature, his sink sprays a bunch of water down your front as you’re washing a dish. You let out an unceremonious squeaking sound at the sudden rush of cold running all the way down your pyjama shirt, to your pants.

The bowl Toji was holding clatters a bit as he drops it to be at your side, “What happened?” He asks before seeing your drenched clothes, an amused smile taking place where his concern was sitting, “You’re not much help in the kitchen, huh?”

“Hey!” you frown at him, “I am perfectly helpful, thank you very much. It’s not my fault your sink hates me.” You feel like a wet cat under his gaze, “What am I meant to do now? These are the only pyjamas I bought with me,” you pout slightly, looking down at your ruined clothes.

“Just wear something of mine,” he shrugs easily.

The idea of wearing his comfortable clothes makes your skin buzz, “Okay… thank you,” you mumble at him.

He scoffs at your sudden coyness, “You want me to pick something out for you or do you got it?”

“No, I got it,” you smile at him before turning to wander through the house to his room.

Shuffling through his drawers, you find a shirt and some sweatpants to wear. They’re large on you, the whole look incredibly baggy, having to pull the drawstrings on his sweats a bit tighter to make sure they stay up. You feel better though, warm, you hope he won’t mind but you had to borrow a pair of his boxers as well…

When you walk back into the kitchen, Toji does a double take on you, his eyes widening slightly, “You comfy?”

“Very,” you walk up to him, “You finish with the brownie mix?”

He stares at you for a moment before replying, “…Yeah, they’re in the oven.”

“Nice, putting the mix in the tray is my least favourite part, it’s always so sticky and messy and I end up getting frustrated because it won’t all go in and then I need another spoon to get the mix off the spatula and then I have to go back and forth…” You trail off, noticing he’s not really paying attention to what you’re saying, he is looking at you though, “Toji, Something wrong?”

He considers you for a moment, “You look cute,” is all he says.

You feel shy under his gaze now, not expecting him to compliment you so sincerely, “So do you?”

He barks a laugh at your clumsy compliment, “Alright, wanna watch something while we wait?” He changes the topic.

“Sure!”

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

He’s not as subtle as he thinks he is, his hand rests on your thigh, rubbing his thumb in circles but just because he’s not subtle doesn’t mean it’s not working. The tv plays some movie in front of the pair of you but you can’t pay attention, you’ve not retained a single plot point, his warm hand on your thigh is all you can feel, all you can register.

You have a feeling you’re going to have to be the one to break this, the weird limbo you’re both in. Turning your head to the side and looking up, you aren’t ready for how he’s already looking down at you, his hand on your thigh reaches for the side of your face, cradling you gently. He moves in slowly, giving you the chance to pull back in protest if you don’t want him to kiss you.

You want it though and lean up the rest of the way, kissing him deeply, wanting to put your lips on him for nearly the whole time you’ve been here. He meets your eagerness, his hand holding you more firmly, his tongue licking into your mouth, wanting to taste you. His body moves into yours more, his other hand grabbing at your hip.

His kisses grow rushed and he ends up trailing them to your neck, kissing and licking along the exposed skin there. The hand on your face angles you to his will, manoeuvring you every which way so he can get his lips on whatever part of you he desires.

Huffed out whine leave you at the way he nips at your skin, he has enough of the odd angle and pulls you onto his lap completely, sitting back as his hands roam your body over his clothes.

“Toji,” you whine out his name.

His eyes look into yours, “Do you need me to stop?”

Shaking your head at him, you say, “No, I need more…”

“You really do look cute in my clothes,” he murmurs, leaning in again and pressing a full kiss to your lips, “You look comfortable… all wrapped up in my clothes.” He reiterates that they are in fact his clothes you’re wearing.

His hands move under the large shirt, groping at your bare skin, delighting in the warmth and plushness of you. Your body breaks out in goose bumps as a noticeable shiver runs down your spine, his touch electrifying to you.

“My, how sensitive you are,” he teases you, a self-satisfied grin making its way onto his face.

“Shut up,” you snark back, “Just… kiss me again?”

His smile grows, “Yes ma’am,” he jokes before kissing you again.

You’re getting lost in it, in the feel of his lips on yours, it’s making you dizzy and needy. Your hips grind down into his on their own accord and Toji moans against you, surprised by the sudden friction. Recovering quickly, his hands grab your hips and encourage you to keep going, your clothed cunt dragging up and down his covered cock has spots in your vision.

Your hands grip the fabric of his shirt tight, your lips disconnecting from his every time you moan, only for him to press them back together. His dick twitches in his pants, painfully erect and sensitive, he has a feeling he could cum like this.

This is the furthest the two of you have gone so far and he’s not wasting this opportunity, he needs to see you cum, he needs to hear it. The grip he has on you is harsh, his hips rut up into yours which results in the most pathetic sound he’s ever heard coming from you… he needs more.  

Pulling back, you whinge, “Toji~ I wan– t more… I want more.”

“Well… I want you to cum while wearing my clothes,” he counters.

You gasp at his blunt words, “I–”

You don’t get the chance to finish your thought, his hips thrusting up, the shock delicious. His dick is leaking profusely in his pants, he’s way too sensitive right now, for his grown age. You’d asked to go slow and he complied but that didn’t mean he didn’t have to furiously jerk himself off after your visits.

Toji’s boxers are uncomfortably wet against your core, slick and stuck to your pussy with how worked up he’s gotten you. All the layers are upsetting you; you just want one less layer, his pants, your pants, you don’t care, you just need more.

“Toji, lemme take off the sweats, please, please, please,” you all but beg at him.

“No. Told you,” he scolds, “I want you cumming in my clothes.”

“Mmm but…” You hesitate.

You’ve caught his interest, quirking a brow at you, he asks, “But what?”

You decide to tell him even though you’re a little embarrassed, “I’m also wearing your boxers.”

He holds you still against him, a sound of objection coming from you at the lack of friction, “You’re wearing my boxers?”

You nod quickly, hoping for this line of questioning to be done soon, “I am.”

“Why?”

You look down, to where you’re sat on top of him, his large cock strained against his pants, you falter slightly in your answer, distracted. Toji’s hand tapping against your thigh brings you back, “Mine were wet from the sink…”

He tugs at the sweats, “Take these off, right now.”

Standing on wobbly legs, you undo the drawstring on his pants and slip them down.

Toji groans at the sight of your bare legs, “Lift up my shirt,” he directs.

Which you do, biting your lip, trying to fight off the urge to run away in embarrassment. Your hands hold his shirt up slightly, exposing to him how you’re wearing his boxers.

His eyes scan your lower half carefully, his heart stuttering in is chest. His light grey boxers dark where your arousal has pooled, “Fuck, come here,” he pats his lap, grabbing you when you’re close enough. “You’re so fucking wet, doll, shit.”

When you’re back on his lap, he wastes no time, his cock rubs between your folds, parting them from under his boxers, the friction different and consuming. This feels so much better than before, it feels almost intense after getting minimal sensation.

“Toji~ I don’t think I’ll last long like this,” you admit, feeling shame from how pathetic you must seem.

“Good,” he groans, his hips thrusting up into yours while his hands drag you back and forth on his cock, “I won’t either.”

To hear he’s just as effected by this as you are makes your cunt pulse around nothing, a whimper leaving you from how pathetically empty you feel, “I still want more,” you pout.

“Later,” he promises.

Your skin buzzes and your stomach clenches, your fingers dig into his shoulders, feeling impossibly close to finishing. Your eyes grow dazed, hot, huffed breaths leaving your parted lips. The sight has Toji’s cock twitching profusely, barely fighting off his orgasm, wanting to see you cum first.

“Come on, doll, I need to see it,” he tugs you quicker, your slick cunt sliding easily against his pants, the wetness seeping through the boxers onto them, “I need to see you cum for me.”

You shudder at his words, “I’m gonna–”

One of his hands leave your hip and slides to your face, his thumb pressing past your lips, you take it and suck on it, tongue licking the pad of it gently. A moan from deep in his chest rumbles under your hands, it’s all too much. Your cunt flutters against him and your eyes roll back, moans muffled around his thumb as your cum gushes from your pussy, coating his boxers even more.

Toji can’t help but watch, he’s watching you so closely, his cock cumming very suddenly. Your orgasm, the dumb look in your eyes, the flutter of your lashes, the shake in your body as you cum in his clothes undoes him. His own cum seeps into his pants, a large, wet stain growing on his sweats as his dick jerks with his orgasm.

He pulls his thumb from your mouth, dragging your lower lip down with it, “Fuck,” he bites out.

He rides out both your highs, lightly grinding his hips up into you as you both come down. Your form collapses into him, curling yourself around him. His arms wrap around you, holding you close as you jolt every now and again, it’s cute, he thinks.

You lay peacefully like this for a moment before you remember, “The brownies,” you try to pull yourself away from him.

“They’re fine, oven went off only a moment ago,” he hums.

“I’ll go grab them then,” you say.

“Alright, shaky, off you go,” he mocks you and your jelly legs.

Pulling back, you frown at him, “I will.”

He just smiles knowingly at you.

Crawling off him carefully, you stand on your shaky legs momentarily before sitting back down on the couch next to him, “Maybe you should go get them.”

“Mhm,” he answers, leaning over he presses a kiss to your cheek, “That’s what I thought.”

You cross your arms over your chest and scowl at him, pretending to be more upset than you actually are.

Toji goes into the kitchen and pulls the brownies out, he calls over to you, “So… I hope you like the corners of your brownies a little crispy.”

You can’t help but laugh at that.

PLAGIARISM NOT CONDONED | REPOSTS NOT AUTHORISED

[luxcuriousao3]

I've been messing around lately, writing Ghost in different ways to see which rings most true to his character (in my opinion). I wouldn't say that it does ring true for me in this one (then again this one did spawn from my stalker!Ghost thots, tho this fic isn't part of that universe), but I decided to post it anyway. So this little ficlet, despite being xReader, is more of a Ghost character study than anything else. This characterization is definitely experimental, and leans into the "Ghost and Simon are separate personalities" headcanon. No smut, but still NSFW.

Ghost x general's daughter!Reader

You were the daughter of some aging General, a balding, pot-bellied man on his way out, an honorable discharge in his near future. You’d come to visit him on the base, a tray of gooey brownies held firmly in your hands, two hot cocoas balanced on top, and a visitor’s badge pinned to your chest.

Initially, Ghost hadn’t taken much notice of you. Pretty thing, would be easy to kill, was his first impression. A casual, fleeting thought that he paid no attention to but made Simon shudder. There had been a time that when Ghost was in control, Simon was entirely unaware. He would come to and hours could have passed, sometimes days, or, on one particularly grueling campaign, even weeks. It was how he knew there was something evil lurking inside him. But in the desert, all was revealed, and Simon and Ghost were irrevocably tangled up in one another, the same but not, like two different sides of a single coin.

It wasn’t until you walked straight into his firm, broad chest and spilled the scaldingly hot drinks on him that he really noticed you.

Clumsy fuckin’ bird, Ghost thought angrily as he grunted in pain. Should break your bloody wings.

“Oh my God, I am so sorry!” You chirped, looking up at him with wide, apologetic eyes. He waited for you to flinch and look away when you saw his mask, but you didn’t. You just shifted your tray of brownies to one hand, the other fluttering uselessly over his soaking wet chest for a few seconds, before you grabbed the hem of your dress in a panic and lifted it up to try and dry him off with it.

Your dress was long, long enough to keep you from flashing him entirely, but he still caught an eyeful of your legs, even a glimpse of your plush thighs. At least until you realized what you were doing and dropped your dress again with a squeak of embarrassment, cheeks reddening.

“I’m so sorry,” you repeated earnestly, as Ghost stared down at you in bemusement. It wasn’t often he was shocked by someone’s behavior, but you were just so odd. It was, admittedly, amusing. Watching you squawk and try to smooth your ruffled feathers was like watching someone who’d tried to kill him choke on their own blood. Entertaining. Satisfying. Vaguely erotic.

“Are you okay?” You finally remembered to ask, reaching out to touch him again, as if to check him over. Ghost’s hands shot up, one wrapping around your wrist in a firm grip, the other moving to stop your dessert tray—which was tilting dangerously—from falling. He could feel your pulse thrumming beneath his finger tips, and the warmth of your skin seeped through his glove.

“M’fine,” he said shortly, voice deep and grumbly but not as hostile as usual. Simon’s influence, no doubt. Ghost almost rolled his eyes. His other half always banged on and on about treating ladies with proper respect. Ghost wasn’t particularly interested in sex with other people, preferring to fuck his own fist if the urge grew too great to ignore, but he thought about bending you over right here in this hallway and bullying Simon’s big cock into you, just to spite him.

“Oh! Thank you,” you said with a charming smile, entirely ignorant to the image he’d conjured up of you. One he found himself enjoying more than he’d thought he would. “I really am sorry,” you said for the third time, like a parrot echoing itself. Little bird indeed. “I’m such a klutz. Except for when I’m dancing. Then I’ve got at least a modicum of grace.”

Beneath his mask, Ghost raised a brow. Had he mistakenly given off the impression that he cared?

His silence was pointed, and you flushed deeper. You pushed the tray of brownies towards him, seemingly unphased by the grip he still had on it and your wrist. He let go.

“Go ahead, take it,” you said encouragingly, holding out the treat insistently. “It’s the least I can do to make up for ruining your shirt… I can always make more for Daddy another day.”

Simon’s cock twitched, and this time the dirty thoughts in their head were entirely his. Though Ghost could admit the thought of you calling him Daddy in that sweet little voice of yours, all innocent and sincere, was appealing. Perhaps there was something attractive about fucking another person after all.

“Don’t want any,” Ghost answered after a moment, and your face fell. But instead of taking his words for the dismissal they were, you perked back up and continued talking.

“Do you not like brownies? I can make you something else and come back tomorrow,” you offered, for some unknowable reason. Both Simon and Ghost were astounded the conversation had lasted this long, and worse yet, showed no signs of ending. “I can make lemon bars, white chocolate truffles, pudding, anything you’d like.. But nothing too fancy.” You giggled. No one had ever giggled in Ghost’s presence before. “I’m no professional baker. I just do it when the mood strikes, or when Daddy is craving something sugary. He’s the one who taught me to bake. Oh! Do you have any allergies? Nuts, gluten, anything? I don’t want to poison you…”

And on and on you went, rambling like Ghost was actually listening to you. Except that he was. Perhaps it was cruel curiosity, wanting to see how long you’d carry on making a fool of yourself. Or maybe it was Simon pitying you for the nerves in your voice, not wanting to interrupt you and make you more anxious. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the fact that you were showing Ghost more kindness than he had ever received in his life.

Simon had experienced the joys of living, of companionship and love. Ghost had not, though he’d seen it all through their eyes. He hadn’t really thought that he was missing out on anything.

But now, with a lovely little dove like you offering to bake for him—not Simon, but Ghost—he thought he maybe he was, if just a tad. Especially if your pussy tasted as sweet as your baked goods smelled.

[hunny-beann]

I am literally having the worst day ever, do you think you could write some insanely fluffy Dream for me? I'm talking tooth rotting levels of fluff here.

Rest Now, Wife, Mine

Dream of the Endless x f!Reader

Note: Hi anon! Thanks a ton for the adorable request, I had a lot of fun with it and really hope it helps make your day feel a bit better <3

Synopsis: Morpheus' wife finds their bed far too lonely without him in it, and seeks out his presence to remedy this so she may finally succumb to slumber for the evening.

Thankfully, he is all too happy to oblige.

Warnings: None! Just pure and unbridled fluff :)

Word Count: 1,298

Her steps are silent and her pace slow as she approaches the familiar throne room, sensing even from outside of its walls that it is as close to empty as it is going to get for the evening.

That said, as close to empty as possible for the throne room of an Endless such as Dream was not nearly as empty as one might think, with it being a rarity that he not be found there.

She fights back a shiver as she steps across the threshold, her bare feet suddenly far colder than before, and her majority uncovered shoulders beginning to undergo horripilation at the seemingly inexplicable shift in temperature.

That said, being easy to explain was not a rule that the Dreaming followed, so this was nothing new, and certainly nothing unexpected.

Though, the sudden voice that split the once heavy silence in twain on the other hand, was.

"And what could possibly have you awake at such an hour, dear wife?"

The voice asked quietly, laced with both amusement and even a twinge of concern that had the wife in question smiling softly in spite of her best efforts to not appear excited at the mere sound of her love's voice.

Oh, but she had never been that strong, had she?

He had her wrapped around his finger just as he did the entire realm that he ruled, though he notably reserved the one with the ring for her and her alone.

She padded up toward his throne quietly, not willing to answer his question until she was close enough that her voice might not reverberate so loudly off of the palace walls.

Some words, she had decided long ago, were for her husband and her husband alone.

Upon her eager approach, the Lord of Dreams could not help but raise one of the corners of his mouth at the mere sight of her, holding his hand out at her nearness to guide her to stand before his crossed legs as he reached gently to take her other in his own as well, making a mental note of how chilled her extremities felt due to the cool night air of his throne room.

He watched as she slackened slightly at his familiar touch, her body always so happy to find him near in a way never ceased to have his heart all but melting at her feet.

What a disastrous little thing she was, truly.

He could never love another.

As her form relaxed at the feeling of his hands on hers, so loving in spite of the power that they held, she could not help but yawn softly, eyes growing teary as her ease allowed the weight of the day to truly set in.

Her dearest Dream Lord smirked up at her, his brow raised knowingly and his eyes twinkling as he watched her fight off the eternally tempting wiles of sleep.

What a sweet little thing, so helpless in her battles against her own biology that it was entirely too amusing to ignore, and always far too entertaining to neglect to bear witness to.

"You are tired, my dear."

The Lord of Dreams stated matter of factly, tugging his beloved closer using his soft grip on her hands so he could properly brush some of her hair behind her ear, a gesture which caused her eyelids to flutter closed briefly before they snapped open once more, her fight against herself not yet over in her eyes (though Dream could see clearly in the way that she swayed on her own two feet that there was already an obvious victor).

He chuckled quietly, shaking his head,

"You need to rest, sweet stardust. Let me bring you back to the bedroom."

He spoke gently, rising to guide her back to their soft and familiar bed only to halt when he heard her reply.

"No, I don't want to go back, you're just going to leave once you think I'm tired enough not to follow."

The Dream Lord faltered upon hearing this, raising a questioning brow in response before lowering himself down upon his throne once more, though this time he pulled his wife right along with him, sitting her on his lap in order to get a better look at her exhausted expression.

He frowned.

"Have you been staying awake on purpose, my love? Lying in wait for me as you promised you would not do?"

She shook her head, but he could see the way that the blood rushed into her cheeks as she tried to explain, embarrassed to admit the things that she had to in order to quell his worries of any intentional harm having been done.

"No, of course not, I just..."

The Lord of Dreams hummed and brought one hand to her back, rubbing up and down along her spine and feeling her lean against him unintentionally in response, her bones heavy and all too prepared to sink into whatever comfort they could find.

"You just what, dearest?"

He urged, causing his lover to nod blearily in response, slowly coming back to reality again.

"I just find that sometimes I cannot bear to sleep alone, that the bed feels far too wide and empty without you in it."

Dream fought back a slight smile upon hearing this, feeling more than a little bit proud to know that his wife could rely upon him enough to truly need him so (though he was notably unhappy to hear that this was causing her any amount of unnecessary strife).

"And is tonight one of those nights, beloved?"

He asked, watching as she nodded, her head lolling slightly upon her neck as her overworked muscles struggled to remain in control over her all too tired body and mind.

"Poor thing,"

Dream all but purred in response, adjusting his love upon his lap until she was leaning against him, breaths warm on his neck and body seeming to grow heavier by the second as the feeling of his familiar closeness drove her into a type of ease that was felt only at a lover's closeness.

"That will certainly have to be remedied, won't it?"

He murmured against her ear, feeling her shiver in response, nuzzling closer with a nod as he gathered his coat that had been hanging on the back of the dais behind him with just one hand, draping it over her body and pressing a soft kiss against her head as he felt her begin to drift off into a much needed and far too well deserved slumber.

"Rest now, wife, mine."

He said softly, feeling his dearest love smile gently against his skin at his familiar words and the use of his favorite (and almost sickeningly sweet) nickname for her,

"I will see to it that no one interrupts you as you do."

If she had been more awake, perhaps the woman would have rolled her eyes or even offered a sarcastic retort in response to her husband's dramatics, but instead she simply nudged herself closer, pressing a gentle kiss against the pale flesh of his neck before she drifted off for the very first time that night, feeling truly safe in the arms of her most adoring love.

And when morning arrived, and the throne room became far less uninhabited, the two of them made for quite a sight, indeed.

After all, who would have thought that the Lord of Dreams might choose to sleep simply to live life as his dear wife did, his cheek pressed gently against her head and his arms wrapped around her as slumber found them both, pulling them closer together, ever still, in the very same way that they belonged now, and always would for the remainder of eternity, and perhaps even beyond that.

ao3 link

[solxamber]

do you think you could write about a white rabbit reader like how did with wild cat? as in the white rabbit from alice in wonderland— who’s more of a polite anxious mess trying to follow the queens strict rules but is kind of bad at it. possibly shy or on the quieter side like a rabbit beastman would probably be, considering most of the beastmens personalities align with their animal counterparts behavior. and for some reason most of the beastmen we see, or even the merpeople, are all predator animals so i would love to see their interactions with a prey animal. for the first time ever, leona would actually be scientifically correct in calling the reader an herbivore. they would also be the only beastman who’s not sorted into savanaclaw i imagine. in canonical alice in wonderland, or at least a majority of its interpretations, the white rabbit is considered a neutral, somewhat villain leaning character. he works for the queen but he’s never outright evil, if anything he’s kind of a coward as he is initially terrified of alice. so i can see reader being mostly benevolent and a little bit of a scaredy cat who’s still relatively friendly. thank you

White Rabbit! Reader x Everyone

Thank you for the request <3 I hope you like it

Character: All NRC + Staff + Rollo, Neige

Riddle Rosehearts:

You’re always on edge around Riddle, frantically trying to follow the Queen's rules and his. But you trip over your own feet so often that Riddle ends up scolding you almost every day.

"Rule 76: No running in the halls!" Riddle huffs as you scramble past him, dropping a handful of papers as you trip over your own shoes.

You fumble around, trying to gather the papers while stammering an apology, eyes wide and twitching like a startled rabbit. “S-sorry! I didn’t mean to—oh no! Rule 17: Never drop important documents...”

Riddle looks ready to blow up, but when you shoot him those big, panicked eyes, he exhales sharply through his nose, the lecture stuck in his throat. "Just… get it together!" he mutters, turning on his heel, clearly flustered. “How am I supposed to enforce rules when you look like you're going to faint every time I open my mouth?!”

In the back of your mind, you wonder if he’d be so strict if he knew you were working for the "Queen." But you don't have the nerve to tell him that, so you just nod and awkwardly salute.

Trey Clover:

You never quite relax around Trey, even though he's the calmest person in Heartslabyul. Every time you’re near him, you’re just waiting for the moment when he’ll ask you to do something scary, like taste one of his experimental dishes or—worse—eat cake in front of Riddle. The idea makes your ears droop.

"Hey, you okay?" Trey asks when he notices you standing stiffly by the kitchen door. He’s got flour on his apron and a knife in hand, chopping fruit with easy precision.

You jump at the sound of his voice and nearly knock over a stack of plates. "I-I’m fine!" you squeak, standing even straighter like you’re in the Queen’s court.

Trey chuckles softly. "You know, I’m not going to bite. Unless I’m making rabbit stew." He winks.

Your eyes widen in horror, ears trembling. "R-rabbit stew?!"

He laughs, holding up his hands. "I'm kidding! Kidding!" Trey seems to find your reactions endlessly amusing, always leaning in with a gentle smile. "But if you need help relaxing, just say the word. Maybe we can make some tea. No pressure."

But all you hear is "pressure," and you feel like you're about to combust.

Cater Diamond:

Cater thinks you're the cutest thing on two legs, especially when you're in a flustered state. Which, unfortunately for you, is almost all the time.

“Yo, lil’ bunny!” Cater calls out as he sidles up to you in the hall, phone in hand. You’re mid-panic about how you’re going to explain to Riddle why your shoes are untied, your tie is crooked, and you accidentally skipped breakfast because you were too nervous to eat.

You freeze, giving Cater a look like a deer in headlights—or rather, a rabbit in a snare. “D-don’t call me that,” you mumble, ears twitching furiously. “R-Riddle might hear…”

Cater just grins, pulling out his phone to snap a quick selfie of your panicked expression. “You’ve gotta chill! It’s like, the 5th time today you’ve looked like you're on trial.”

You flinch. On trial?! That’s even worse! “I-I can’t relax! W-what if I break a rule?!”

Cater just pats your head, ruffling your hair. "Well, I think you're doing just fine! Plus, it makes for great content. Smile, #bunnyfails!"

You want to disappear into the ground. But Cater just keeps snapping pics and laughing.

Ace Trappola:

Ace treats you like an adorable walking ball of stress that’s just begging to be messed with. And who is Ace if not a professional button-pusher?

"Hey! Rabbit!" Ace shouts across the Heartslabyul gardens one day, and you nearly jump out of your skin, spilling tea all over yourself.

“E-Excuse me?!” you sputter, face burning as you frantically blot at the stain on your uniform.

Ace saunters over with a grin on his face. "Oh, sorry. Did I startle you? You’re just so jumpy—like, literally! It’s hilarious!"

"I-I’m not jumpy!" you insist, but your trembling hands betray you as you fumble with your napkin, accidentally knocking the sugar bowl off the table.

Ace bursts out laughing, nearly doubling over. "Dude, you’re killing me! I swear, every time I’m around, it’s like watching a sitcom! *This* is quality entertainment!"

You huff, glaring at him, ears drooping. "I’m not entertainment."

Ace just gives you a thumbs-up. "Sure you are. And the best part is, you do it all for free!"

Deuce Spade:

Deuce wants to help. He really does. But every time he sees you looking like you’re two seconds from a meltdown, he panics even harder than you do.

"W-whoa! Are you okay?!" Deuce exclaims when he finds you frantically digging through your bag, trying to find the Queen’s latest decree—or was it Riddle’s study notes? You can't remember because you’re too stressed.

"I-I lost the thing! You know, the thing!" you gasp out, waving your arms wildly.

Deuce pales. "Oh no, that’s bad! I-I can help! What thing?!”

"I DON’T KNOW!" you cry, at the peak of panic now.

Deuce stares at you for a second, eyes wide. Then he also starts scrambling around. "Okay, okay! We can find it! Stay calm! Well—not calm, but calmer!"

You both end up running in circles until Trey finds you and asks, deadpan, “What exactly are you two looking for?”

The silence that follows is deafening.

“Um…” Deuce rubs the back of his head sheepishly. “I... kind of forgot.”

Leona Kingscholar:

Leona knows exactly how to push your buttons—and he does so with as little effort as possible. For someone so calm and lazy, he seems to get a real kick out of watching you squirm.

“Oi, herbivore,” Leona drawls from his usual spot under the shade of a tree. You freeze, clutching your bag tighter as you glance nervously in his direction. “Why are you sneaking around like a prey animal? Oh, wait—you are one.”

You flinch and stammer, “I-I’m not sneaking, I’m just, um... minding my own business?”

Leona smirks, lazily cracking open one eye to look at you. “If you ‘mind your business’ any harder, you’re gonna trip over your own feet.”

You gulp, taking a step back, but he’s not done with you. “Maybe if you tried relaxing for once, you wouldn’t be so jittery.”

“I-I can’t help it!” you squeak, nearly tripping as you scuttle away, ears twitching furiously. “I have to follow the rules!”

Leona watches you run off, chuckling lowly to himself. “Rules, huh? Just don’t drop dead from the stress, or I’ll have to carry your sorry hide out of here.”

You spend the next week worrying that he’s going to jump out of nowhere and pounce on you—but of course, that’s way too much effort for Leona.

Ruggie Bucchi:

Ruggie sees you as someone who’s just begging to be teased, and he has no qualms about taking full advantage of your easily flustered nature.

One day, while you’re doing your best to stay out of trouble, Ruggie sneaks up behind you, flashing that mischievous grin of his. “Hey there, Bunny! Need some help with that?”

You yelp and nearly leap out of your skin, sending your stack of papers flying in every direction. “R-Ruggie! You startled me!”

Ruggie snickers as he helps you gather up the papers. “Aw, c’mon, I didn’t mean to. You’re just too easy, y’know? Makes me wanna mess with you a little.”

You pout, ears drooping. “W-well, it’s not very nice...”

He shrugs, still grinning. “What can I say? It’s in my nature. But I guess I’ll help you out, just this once.” He leans in closer and lowers his voice, adding, “Don’t expect it for free, though.”

Your face goes pale. “Wh-what do you want?”

Ruggie chuckles. “Relax, I’m just teasing! For now, anyway.” He winks before sauntering off, leaving you clutching your papers and wondering if every beastman in Savanaclaw has it out for you.

Jack Howl:

Jack feels a sense of duty to protect you. Even though he thinks you’re a little too skittish for your own good, he respects how hard you try to follow the rules—even when you trip over them.

“Hey, wait up,” Jack calls after you one day as you’re hurrying across campus. You turn to see him jogging over, looking concerned.

“O-oh! Jack! I-I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?” you ask nervously, already panicking that you might have broken some rule.

Jack frowns, crossing his arms. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Why do you always assume you did?”

You blink up at him, ears twitching. “I-I’m just worried I’ll mess up...”

Jack sighs, shaking his head. “You’re too hard on yourself. Look, if anyone tries to mess with you, I’ll step in. No one’s gonna hurt you while I’m around.”

Your eyes widen. “R-really? You’d do that?”

Jack nods firmly. “Of course. You’ve got a good heart, even if you’re a bit jumpy. Someone’s gotta look out for you.”

You smile up at him, feeling a little more reassured. But before you can thank him, you trip over your own feet and fall forward—right into Jack’s arms.

He catches you easily, looking down at you with a raised brow. “You’re really something, you know that?”

You blush furiously, scrambling to right yourself. “S-sorry! I-I didn’t mean to...”

Jack just chuckles softly. “Don’t worry. I’ve got your back, Bunny.”

Azul Ashengrotto:

Azul sees your anxiety as an untapped market. He’s confident he could help soothe your nerves—with a little contract, of course.

One day, while you’re quietly minding your own business in the Mostro Lounge, Azul slips into the seat across from you with his signature grin. “Ah, my dear friend. You seem rather... tense.”

You freeze in place, blinking rapidly. “O-oh! N-no, I’m just... trying to follow the rules.”

Azul’s eyes gleam behind his glasses. “Why don’t I offer you a deal? I can help alleviate some of that stress of yours. All it would take is a small favor in return...”

Your ears twitch nervously. “U-um... I-I’m not sure...”

Azul leans closer, lowering his voice to a silky whisper. “Imagine it—no more anxiety, no more worries about breaking the rules. All you’d have to do is sign here...”

You nearly pass out from the pressure, eyes darting around the lounge as if looking for an escape. “I-I think I’m fine! Really! Thank you!”

Azul chuckles darkly as you bolt from the lounge. He watches you go with a sigh. “Ah, such potential... But I suppose it’s not every day I encounter a rabbit so determined to resist.”

Jade Leech:

Jade finds your anxious behavior endlessly fascinating. He’s not one to outright tease—he prefers subtlety—but he enjoys watching you squirm in his presence.

One afternoon, you’re frantically trying to fix a mistake in your homework when Jade appears behind you without a sound. “Oh my, is everything alright?”

You yelp, almost knocking over your ink bottle. “J-Jade! You startled me!”

Jade smiles pleasantly, though you can see a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I apologize. I simply couldn’t help but notice how... flustered you seemed.”

You try to calm your racing heart. “I-I’m just trying to finish this assignment...”

Jade leans over your shoulder, examining your work. “Ah, I see. Perhaps I could offer some assistance? Though I must admit, it is rather... amusing to watch you at times.”

You flush, ears twitching in embarrassment. “A-amusing?”

Jade chuckles softly, standing upright again. “Indeed. You’re quite endearing in your own way.”

You’re not sure if that’s a compliment or not, but you nod meekly. “T-thank you... I think?”

Floyd Leech:

Floyd loves messing with you. It’s as simple as that. Your reactions are priceless, and he never misses an opportunity to make you jump out of your skin.

“Bunnyyyyy!” Floyd calls out, voice echoing through the hall as he chases after you. You speed up, desperately trying to get away, but Floyd is faster, his long legs catching up in no time.

He grabs you by the shoulders and spins you around with a grin. “Gotcha!”

You practically shriek. “F-Floyd! I-I wasn’t—”

Floyd cackles, bending down to look you in the eyes. “You’re always so jumpy, Bunny. It’s fun chasing you! Makes me wanna squeeze you even more.”

You tremble under his intense gaze, feeling like a mouse caught by a cat. “P-please don’t squeeze too hard...”

Floyd laughs again and ruffles your hair. “No promises! But you’re too funny to squish all at once. Guess I’ll just have to keep playing with you!”

You manage a weak smile, trying not to collapse from sheer anxiety. “G-great...”

Kalim Al-Asim:

Kalim is oblivious to your constant anxiety and thinks you’re just really shy. He goes out of his way to befriend you, always offering kind words and gifts to make you feel welcome.

One day, Kalim approaches you with a beaming smile, holding out a brightly wrapped gift. “Hey, I got this for you!”

Your ears twitch in surprise. “F-for me? Why?”

Kalim laughs cheerfully. “Why not? You’re my friend! And you always look so nervous, I thought this might cheer you up!”

You blink down at the gift, overwhelmed by his kindness. “I-I don’t know what to say...”

Kalim grins wider. “No need to say anything! Just know that if you ever feel anxious, I’m here for you, okay?”

His sunny demeanor is so contagious that you can’t help but smile back. “Th-thank you, Kalim. That means a lot...”

Kalim claps you on the back with a laugh, nearly knocking you off your feet. “No worries! We’re friends, after all!”

Jamil Viper:

Jamil is mildly exasperated by your anxious nature. He already has his hands full with Kalim, so dealing with you on top of that feels like another babysitting job. Still, he does his best to help you out when Kalim inevitably ropes you into their social circle.

One day, you’re standing awkwardly at the edge of a party, trying to blend into the wallpaper when Jamil approaches you with a sigh. “You look like you’d rather be anywhere else.”

You glance at him nervously. “I-I don’t want to cause any trouble...”

Jamil pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re not causing trouble. Just... relax a little, okay? You don’t have to be so anxious all the time.”

You look up at him with wide eyes. “I-I don’t know how...”

Jamil sighs again, crossing his arms. “Well, just... follow Kalim’s lead, I guess. He doesn’t worry about anything.”

You look over at Kalim, who’s dancing on a table and laughing without a care in the world. “Easier said than done...”

Jamil gives you a tired look. “Tell me about it.”

Vil Schoenheit:

Vil is very much like the Queen you serve—strict, elegant, and entirely intimidating. Which means every time you’re around him, you end up feeling like you’re going to pass out from sheer anxiety.

“Why are you slouching like that?” Vil snaps, noticing you trying to fade into the background during a Pomefiore meeting. He points a perfectly manicured finger at you, expression sharp. “Posture is important, darling.”

You immediately stand straighter, ears trembling slightly. “I-I’m sorry, Vil! I didn’t mean to—"

“Hmm,” Vil tilts his head, examining you with a critical eye. “I swear, being around you is like trying to train an anxious little bunny. How am I supposed to shape you into anything presentable if you’re always two seconds away from fainting?”

“I-I promise to do better!” you stammer, sweating bullets.

Vil sighs dramatically, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just… try not to look like prey when you’re in front of an audience, alright? We can’t have Pomefiore’s image ruined because someone mistook you for their lunch.”

You nod furiously, completely unsure how you’re supposed to accomplish that but determined to try.

Rook Hunt:

Rook finds you utterly fascinating, like a rare creature he’s determined to observe in its natural habitat. Which is to say, he’s always popping up out of nowhere and scaring the living daylights out of you.

“Mon lapin!” Rook exclaims from behind you, and you jump about three feet in the air, ears standing straight up.

“R-Rook! Please don’t do that!” you gasp, clutching your chest as you try to calm your racing heart.

Rook just smiles at you, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Ah, but I cannot help it! The way you react—so pure, so genuine, like a rabbit hearing a twig snap in the forest! It’s magnifique!”

You gulp, ears slowly drooping back down. “I-I don’t think being compared to prey is exactly a compliment…”

“But of course it is!” Rook insists, stepping closer and giving you a dazzling grin. “You are a creature of instinct, always alert, always prepared to flee! There is beauty in that, mon ami. And I, as your loyal huntsman, will ensure no harm befalls you.”

You smile nervously, unsure if that’s comforting or even scarier. “T-that’s… good to know?”

Rook’s eyes sparkle, as if he’s just found his next great challenge. “Ah, but one day, I hope to see you without fear, to see the calm, serene smile of a rabbit at rest. What a glorious sight that would be!”

You have no idea how to respond to that, so you just nod, deciding it’s better not to question Rook’s eccentricity.

Epel Felmier:

Epel thinks you’re kind of cool, actually. You’re nervous all the time, yeah, but you’re also from a strict background and work under pressure constantly. He respects that. Which means he’s decided that you’re his unofficial partner in surviving Vil’s tyranny.

“Hey, c’mon, you don’t need to be that scared of Vil,” Epel says one day, nudging your side as the two of you scrub cauldrons in the alchemy lab. “Sure, he’s scary, but if you just stand up to him once, he’ll back off… probably.”

You glance at Epel, eyes wide. “S-stand up to Vil?! Are you crazy?! I can’t do that! He’ll turn me into a newt or—o-or make me into some kind of fashionable accessory!”

Epel chuckles, shaking his head. “Nah, he ain’t that bad. You just gotta show him you’ve got guts. Or at least, like, fake it.”

You swallow hard, ears drooping. “F-faking it sounds risky… What if he notices?”

Epel grins, giving you a thumbs-up. “Then we run. Fast. Like the prey animals we are.”

You blink at him, half-horrified, half-impressed. “You… consider yourself a prey animal?”

Epel shrugs. “Sometimes, yeah. I mean, what else am I gonna do against Vil? Might as well embrace it. Besides, you’re good at dodgin’ people, right? We can make it work.”

You stare at him, processing his words, then sigh in resignation. “I guess we’re in this together then…”

Epel pats your shoulder with a grin. “That’s the spirit! We’re gonna make it through this, bunny style.”

You still have no idea what “bunny style” entails, but you’re willing to trust Epel’s wild plans—for now.

Idia Shroud:

Idia has never related to anyone more in his life. You anxiety is like looking into a jittery, trembling mirror, and for once, Idia is the calm one—relatively speaking.

“W-wait, you have to deliver a message to the Queen?!” Idia whispers, his hair sparking nervously. “That’s like, a total nightmare scenario.”

You nod rapidly, wringing your hands. “Y-yes, but I’m already late, and if I don’t get there soon, it’s off with my head!”

Idia shivers. “No way. I’d rather stay in my room for a thousand years.” He pauses, then adds, “But, um, if you don’t wanna go, maybe… I dunno… we could… not go together?”

You blink at him, your ears twitching at the idea of hiding away instead. “R-really? We can do that?”

He gives you an awkward thumbs-up, his face flushed. “Yeah… like, what’s the worst that could happen? Besides decapitation… but it’s not like anyone would expect me to be brave, right?”

You both glance at Ortho, who’s floating nearby and giving you the biggest, most judgmental sigh he can muster.

“You two need more courage,” Ortho says, shaking his head. “But I’ll help. Let’s make a plan!”

And just like that, your anxiety spirals back into full-on panic.

Ortho Shroud:

Ortho thinks you’re adorable, but he also realizes that you’re a magnet for trouble. So, naturally, he has to make sure you’re safe at all times.

“Good morning!” Ortho beams, floating beside you as you fumble with your basket of letters. “Where are you off to today?”

You twitch slightly, looking over your shoulder. “Oh, um, just delivering some messages… It’s a bit urgent…”

Ortho smiles, activating his sensors. “No problem! I’ll track your location and help with navigation!”

You blink, unsure if you should be relieved or more nervous. “T-track my location?”

Ortho nods cheerfully, a holographic map popping up. “Yup! We can’t have you getting lost in the rose maze again. Remember last time? You were stuck for hours!”

Your ears droop, embarrassed. “I-it’s not my fault everything looks the same…”

“Not to worry!” Ortho reassures. “I’ll make sure you’re in and out in no time! Plus, if you faint from fear, I can carry you.”

The thought of Ortho hauling you over his shoulder while Riddle scolds you is somehow even scarier than getting lost.

Malleus Draconia:

Malleus has never met someone so jittery around him—and that’s saying something. He finds it… oddly endearing.

“Good evening, Child of Man,(Hare(?))” Malleus greets, his deep voice echoing through the hallway.

You jump about a foot in the air, your ears standing straight up. “L-Lord Malleus! I-I didn’t see you there!”

Malleus tilts his head, clearly confused. “I was standing right in the middle of the hall.”

You gulp, trying not to show your terror. “S-sorry! I just, um, wasn’t expecting—um—dragons are very quiet, apparently!”

Malleus raises an eyebrow, then smiles, showing just a hint of fang. “I assure you, I have no intention of frightening you.”

You nod rapidly, ears still trembling. “O-of course, Your Highness! I mean, who’s scared? Not me! Totally fine! Super relaxed!”

Malleus chuckles, and the sound is somehow both amused and terrifying. “You truly are quite… peculiar.”

You have no idea if that’s a compliment or an insult, but you nod like it’s the greatest praise in the world. “T-thank you, Lord Malleus.”

Lilia Vanrouge:

Lilia finds you endlessly amusing. He likes to see just how much he can tease you before you pass out from fright.

“Hello, little rabbit,” Lilia says, appearing out of *nowhere* like he always does.

You squeak, nearly dropping your stack of paperwork. “A-ah! L-Lilia! P-please don’t sneak up on me like that!”

He grins, fangs peeking out. “Oh, but it’s so much fun. You jump every time, like a startled bunny.”

You frown, puffing your cheeks out indignantly, but it only makes you look cuter. “I-I can’t help it! I’m just… easily startled.”

Lilia nods sagely, pretending to consider your words. “Perhaps I should warn you next time? Though that might take away all the fun…”

You gulp, trying to decide if he’s joking or not. “P-please do…”

He laughs, patting your head affectionately. “I make no promises, little one. Just stay on your toes!”

Silver:

Silver finds your constant panic a little concerning, but mostly, it makes him tired just watching you.

You find Silver leaning against a tree, dozing off like usual. “Um, Silver? A-aren’t you supposed to be training?”

Silver blinks awake, giving you a sleepy smile. “Oh, hello. Training? Right, yes, I was. I… took a short rest.”

You fidget, eyes darting around nervously. “W-well, um, I don’t want to interrupt… but could you help me? I think I lost the Queen’s letter again.”

Silver nods slowly, rubbing his eyes. “Of course. But first, you need to breathe. You’re more jittery than the dormouse.”

You force a shaky breath in, nodding. “R-right. Breathe. I can do that.”

Silver gives you a thumbs-up. “Good. Just stay calm. We’ll find it together.”

And then he promptly falls asleep again.

You stare at him, exasperated. “S-Silver?!”

Sebek Zigvolt:

Sebek is flabbergasted by your lack of composure. It drives him nuts—but also, he thinks you’re kind of adorable, like a helpless bunny.

“YOU!” Sebek bellows, making you flinch so hard you almost trip over yourself. “HOW CAN YOU BE THIS INCOMPETENT?!”

You cringe, clutching your ears. “I-I’m sorry! I’m trying my best, I swear!”

Sebek huffs, crossing his arms. “YOUR BEST IS BARELY ADEQUATE! YOU MUST STRIVE FOR PERFECTION, LIKE LORD MALLEUS!”

You gulp, nodding frantically. “R-right! I’ll… I’ll try harder!”

Sebek looks at your terrified face and sighs, his tone softening just a bit. “FINE, FINE. JUST DON’T MESS UP AGAIN. HERE.”

He hands you the paper you dropped, his ears turning slightly pink. “AND STOP LOOKING SO SCARED. IT’S… DISTRACTING.”

You blink at him, surprised. “D-distracting?”

“YES!” he shouts, clearly flustered. “NOW GO! LORD MALLEUS EXPECTS PERFECTION!”

You scurry away, leaving Sebek to mutter to himself, face flushed. “Such a weak little rabbit…”

Rollo Flamme:

Rollo tries so hard not to be charmed by you, really. He doesn’t like distractions, and you’re the most distracting bunny he’s ever met.

“Are you lost again?” Rollo asks with a sigh, watching as you nervously peek around a corner.

You jump, ears twitching. “O-oh, Rollo! I was just, um… trying to find the courtyard…”

Rollo pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’ve passed it three times already.”

You fumble with your hands, embarrassment turning your face pink. “I-I was just… making sure it was the right one…”

Rollo looks at your big, earnest eyes and sighs again, softer this time. “You’re hopeless,” he mutters. Then, reluctantly, he reaches for your hand, leading you back the way you came. “Come on. I can’t leave you wandering around all day.”

You follow behind him, ears drooping. “S-sorry…”

Rollo shakes his head, not even looking back. “Just try not to get lost again.”

You can’t help but smile a little. “I-I’ll try.”

Neige LeBlanche:

Neige thinks you’re the cutest thing ever. He’s the kind of person who immediately wants to be friends with you, especially because you look so nervous all the time.

“Hello!” Neige waves, beaming at you from across the way.

You blink, startled. “O-oh, um… hello, Neige…”

Neige practically skips over to you, his smile never faltering. “Are you okay? You look a little lost.”

You nod rapidly, trying not to be intimidated by his energy. “Y-yes, I’m fine! Just a little… um…”

“Aw, don’t worry!” Neige says, giving you an encouraging pat on the back. “You’ve got this! I believe in you!”

You stare at him, completely baffled. “You… you do?”

Neige nods earnestly. “Of course! And if you need any help, just let me know, okay? I’ll be your bunny buddy!”

Your ears twitch at the nickname, and you manage a shaky smile. “O-okay… Thank you, Neige.”

Dire Crowley:

Crowley finds your constant worrying both exhausting and oddly entertaining. He’s never seen anyone so concerned about breaking every single rule.

“Ah, You!” Crowley calls out, catching you just as you’re about to dash off with a stack of paperwork. “Do you have the reports I asked for?”

You freeze, turning to him with wide eyes. “R-reports? Oh no, I—I thought I delivered those to Professor Trein!”

Crowley sighs dramatically, putting a hand to his forehead. “Of course, of course. Why must I be surrounded by such incompetent students?”

You fidget, looking down at your feet. “I-I’m sorry, Headmaster… I’ll go get them right away—”

Crowley waves a hand dismissively. “No, no, I suppose it can wait. You do look like you’re about to pass out from all the running.”

Your ears droop, and you mumble, “I-I’m not… I’m just… very busy…”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, do try not to collapse before lunch, won’t you? I can’t have students fainting in my halls.”

You nod, scurrying away. Crowley watches you go, muttering to himself, “Honestly, there's no one more magnanimous than me…”

Divus Crewel:

Crewel is exasperated by your anxious behavior. He wants you to be confident, but instead, you’re always shaking in your boots.

“[Name], if you can’t handle a simple potion assignment, how do you expect to survive in this world?” Crewel says, his tone sharp as he points at your cauldron.

You gulp, ears twitching. “I-I’m sorry, Professor… I just, um, thought I might have put too much wormroot…”

Crewel raises an eyebrow. “Too much? Or not enough? Make up your mind, pup.”

Your eyes widen, and you flinch. “R-right! I-I mean, um, not enough—no, wait…”

Crewel sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is hopeless.” Then, with a softer tone, he adds, “Focus. You can do this, but not if you keep second-guessing every move.”

You take a deep breath, nodding. “Y-yes, Professor.”

Crewel watches as you go back to your work, and though he doesn’t say it, there’s a hint of a smile on his face. “Perhaps there’s hope for you yet.”

Mozus Trein:

Trein is generally strict, but even he can’t bring himself to be too harsh with you. Your anxious nature reminds him of some of his more timid students in the past.

“You’re late to class again,” Trein says, giving you a stern look.

You flinch, clutching your bag close. “I-I’m so sorry, Professor… I got lost in the halls again…”

Trein sighs, shaking his head. “You’ve been here long enough to know the way, haven’t you?”

You nod, ears drooping. “Y-yes, sir… I just… it’s the Queen’s court day, and I was trying to avoid… um…”

Trein raises an eyebrow, his expression softening slightly. “Avoid the Queen’s wrath, hm?” He nods, as if understanding completely. “Well, see that it doesn’t happen again. And try to relax. You won’t learn anything if you’re always in a state of panic.”

You bow deeply, almost knocking over your desk in the process. “Y-yes, Professor Trein! Thank you!”

Trein sighs as you scurry to your seat, muttering to himself, “Poor child… so much anxiety…”

Ashton Vargas:

Vargas can’t help but laugh at your feeble attempts at physical activity. You’re about as coordinated as a baby deer—and just as panicked.

“Alright, everyone! Time for a run around the track!” Vargas shouts, blowing his whistle.

You gulp, your ears already drooping at the thought of running. “U-um, Professor Vargas, I’m not sure I’m… physically… capable…”

Vargas claps you on the back, nearly sending you sprawling. “Nonsense! Every beastman’s got it in them! Even you, little bunny!”

You try to protest, but he’s already started the timer. You stumble forward, your legs shaky, and you can hear Vargas laughing from behind.

“Look at that! The rabbit is really running for their life!” Vargas calls out, and the whole class turns to watch you struggle around the track.

You feel your face burn, but you keep running, heart pounding. It’s either run or face Vargas’s motivational speeches again, and honestly, you’re not sure which is worse.

Sam:

Sam loves seeing you in his shop, mostly because you’re so jumpy it’s easy to sneak up on you—unintentionally, of course. He finds your reactions amusing.

“Hello, hello!” Sam calls out as you walk into his shop, and you jump about a foot in the air.

“Ah—M-Mister Sam! I-I didn’t see you there!” you stammer, clutching your chest like your heart might leap out.

Sam laughs, leaning over the counter. “You’re always so jittery, little bunny. Relax! I’ve got just the thing to calm those nerves…” He pulls out a small vial of something labeled “Relaxation Remedy.”

You eye the bottle suspiciously. “Um… t-that’s not… gonna put me to sleep, is it?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Not unless you drink the whole bottle, friend.” He winks. “I’m just lookin’ out for ya, y’know?”

You nod, still unsure but grateful. “T-thank you… I’ll, um… take one, I guess…”

Sam smiles, putting the vial in a bag for you. “No problem, little imp. Come back if you need more!”

You nod, scurrying out of the shop. Sam watches you leave, shaking his head with a grin. “That one’s gonna give themselves a heart attack one day…”

Grim:

Grim likes to think he’s the bravest in the group, but even he can see you’re worse off than him in the bravery department. He likes to boss you around, mostly to feel better about himself.

“Oi, bunny!” Grim shouts, jumping onto your desk. “You got my homework done yet?”

You squeak, nearly toppling out of your chair. “Y-your homework?! Grim, I—I can’t keep doing your work for you…”

Grim pouts, waving a paw at you. “Oh, come on! You’re already nervous all the time—what’s a little extra stress, huh?”

You huff, fidgeting with your pen. “G-Grim, I’m already at my limit! I-I’ve got the Queen’s orders, and Riddle’s rules, and now you want me to—”

Grim interrupts, hopping closer and giving you a smug grin. “Yeah, yeah, I get it, you’re a busy bunny. But you know, if you help me, I’ll… uh, protect you from any monsters! Yeah, how about that?”

You blink, considering it. “P-protect me? From monsters?”

Grim nods, puffing out his chest. “Yup! I’m the Great Grim, after all! I’m basically a professional monster hunter.”

You stare at him, unsure, your ears slowly drooping. “I-I guess… that would be helpful…”

Grim smirks, satisfied. “See? I knew you’d come around!” He jumps off your desk, tail flicking with glee. “Alright, I’ll be back later to pick up my homework. Make sure it’s perfect, okay?”

You sigh, watching him strut away. “H-how did I even get myself into this…?”

Grim doesn’t hear you, already daydreaming about what snack he’ll demand from you next. “It’s good to be the boss,” he mutters, chuckling to himself.

You slump in your seat, wondering if there would ever come a day when you’re not running around doing everyone’s bidding. But then again, you think, maybe that’s just the fate of a White Rabbit…

Masterlist

[jweekgoji]

can u write some more yandere d-16 pls 😭🙏

D-16/Reader.

tw: yandere themes, power dynamic, size difference/size kink, soft yandere!d-16, cogless!d-16, cogged!reader, idol/fan relationship, jealousy/possessiveness, 18+ content. word count: ~720. a/n: FUCK russia for that huge fucking explosion in my city when I was writing alien-robots sex.

Normal D-16 is a total head over heels for his idol. Yandere D-16 lacks any sense of dignity when it comes to even the slightest chance of meeting you.

You can tell he's inexperienced, by the way you briefly trace the tips of your fingers over the side of his waist, the smaller bot on top of you shivering in pleasure, biting his lip.

His bright orange optics focused on the slightest of your action as you guided your servo higher, to his chassis. Was it really happening? Or is he dreaming? Maybe it was all Orion's fault, and he just hit his head hard enough during this race, so now he's imagining things...

“gonna overload now?” you purr softly, tracing your index finger over the edge of the hole on his chassis, just where his t-cog supposed to be.

“i—i am not,” he tries to protest, which sounds so weak that he's not even sure if he even believes himself.

he can't just...overload from a bit of foreplay, can he? it would be too embarrassing, you're his hero, his idol— he doesn't want to look pathetic in front of you, now that he's got such a chance, it would be foolish to lose it all now.

you push another finger deeper, teasing the cold edges of his hole, he can't help but thrust forward, his optics fluttering closed. you hear a soft ‘mmph—’, before he hides his face against the crook of your neck.

how cruel of you to tease the hell out of the no-cog? being with your own cog all your life, you had no idea that these areas could be...quiet sensitive for the cogless. you wonder if you can make him overload just from that.

you can feel his servos awkwardly moving towards your waist, tightening slightly. are you fine with it? with his servos right here? or should he put them somewhere else? his processor running with millions of thoughts, but when you gently guide him to continue moving his hips, he groans.

“i don't want to...not now, please,” he mutters softly against your neck, his breath heavy, as he struggles to control himself and not just melt right next to you.

you tilt your head, raising an optic bridge at that. you can only think about how he feels right now, his spike buried deep inside you, and your soft, warm walls around him just feel too good, too perfect for someone who spent cycles fragging his own servo in dreams of this moment before.

for you, it was barely something. he's short, only reaching your waist, at best. you can easily cover the whole length of his spike with your servo if you want, but there was some kind of sick pleasure in it, watching him squirm in his place, keeping his hips still so he wouldn't just overload in you here and there.

D-16 is so sensitive, it is almost amusing how he is considered one of the strongest and toughest among the other miners. you think, is it because of lack of intimacy? or was it just you, driving him to nearly short circuit? it's so unfair, but can he really hate it now, when it's exactly what he dreams of every single day?

he wants it to be perfect, so he could make you feel good, so you would beg him to take you, moaning his name just so everyone would finally understand that you're his. he's so sick and tired of being jealous, watching you smile and pose next to your fans, giving them your attention and affection when it was him who was supposed to have all of that? you're his, his, his, he's going to try so hard to claim you now, so maybe then everyone would just—

but when you press your digits harder, lightly scratching the metal surface of the empty t-cog slot in his chassis, he tenses up, arching his back in pleasure. the muffled, shaky moan escapes his lips, as he hides his face further against your neck, now trying to catch his own breath.

wait. did he just overload inside you?

[jxwl4k]

I HAD A THOUGHT

I hc that UA has clubs (ex. Music club w/ Jirou, Drama club w/ Monoma)

Katsuki x sweet!fem!reader who's in the drama club where reader has to play a mean girl character like Regina George or Heather Chandler and act the opposite of herself, or in simpler words, act like Katsuki? I think his reaction to his loving gf having to say stuff he would probably say would be cute.

Ty !!

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ the drama club queen .𖥔 ݁ ˖

☘︎ . . . genre. fluff

☘︎ . . . pairings. bakugou x sweet!fem!reader

☘︎ . . . requested? yes by anon

⤿ yn is playing a character that is the complete opposite of her actual self.

⋆˚✿˖° j speaking . . .

- I hope you like this one, I did my very best on writing this. anyways enjoy reading🫶🏻

YN tugged nervously at the hem of her costume, a bright pink blazer that screamed I’m better than you. The Drama Club was rehearsing their upcoming play, and as much as YN loved acting, she wasn’t sure she was cut out for this role.

“YN, you’ve got to own it!” Monoma called from the side, hands gesturing dramatically. “You’re the queen bee, the one everyone fears! You can’t look like you’re apologizing for existing!”

“I know, I know!” YN huffed, adjusting her posture. “It’s just… I don’t want people to think I’m actually like this.”

From the back of the room, Katsuki Bakugou leaned against the wall, arms crossed and an amused smirk plastered on his face. He wasn’t the type to hang out at Drama Club, but when YN mentioned she was nervous about her role, he’d decided to swing by. Not that he’d admit he came for her.

When it was YN’s turn to rehearse, Monoma clapped his hands. “Alright, let’s see the mean girl in action!”

YN squared her shoulders and strode to the center of the stage. With a deep breath, she transformed.

“Oh, please,” she sneered, rolling her eyes in a way that would make Regina George proud. “Like you could ever pull that off. Honestly, you should be thanking me for even looking in your direction.”

Katsuki’s eyebrows shot up.

“Do you think I care about your feelings?” YN continued, her voice dripping with condescension. “I have better things to do than babysit your fragile ego.”

The room was silent for a beat before Monoma burst into applause. “That is what I’m talking about! Perfection!”

YN flushed, looking nervously at Katsuki, who was still watching from the back. His face was unreadable, which only made her more anxious.

After rehearsal, she found him waiting for her outside. “Katsuki—”

“You’re terrible at being mean,” he said, smirking.

“What?!”

“You’re too sweet, dumbass. Even when you’re acting like a brat, I can tell it’s fake.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned closer. “But… it’s kinda cute seeing you act like me.”

YN blinked. “Act like you?”

“Yeah. All that bossy crap. That’s my thing,” he said with a grin. “Guess I’m rubbing off on you.”

She laughed, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Don’t get used to it. This is just for the play.”

“Whatever. Just don’t go stealing my lines.”

“Your lines?”

“‘I don’t care about your feelings?’” He smirked. “Sounds like something I’d say.”

YN rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “Well, maybe I am channeling you a little.”

“Good,” Katsuki said, his voice softer now. “Means I don’t have to worry about anyone messing with you.”

Her cheeks warmed, and she glanced away. “Thanks for coming to watch, Katsuki.”

“Tch. Don’t mention it,” he said, but the tips of his ears turned pink.

As they walked home together, YN felt a little more confident about her role. After all, if she could pull off “Katsuki Bakugou: Drama Club Edition,” she could handle anything.

[nathaslosthershit]

The Main Event (Multiple Pairings) Part 1

Can be read as a standalone but also (Part 8 in the Blind Items AU A/N: Its my nineteenth birthday 🥳 I wanted to write about adults being happy in different stages of their life because I am so scared of growing up and the thought of not being a teenager next year makes me nauseous. Enjoy! Each pairing has a Blind Items backstory which is linked at the start of their section (You don't have to read the backstory, though) Multiple (separate) Pairings: Logan Sargeant x Leclerc!reader, Oscar Piastri x reader, Charles Leclerc x reader, Lando Norris x reader, Lance Stroll x reader, Lewis Hamilton x reader, Alexander Albon x reader Summary: A wedding between Logan Sargeant and the youngest Leclerc child means a very interesting guest list, in which all previous victims of the F1 Blind Items account are included.

Oscar Piastri

“Dude, how come you are more nervous about my own wedding than I am?” Logan asked.

Oscar rolled his eyes and scoffed, pretending what the American was saying was ridiculous, as he nervously picked at his nails, trying to hide his trembling hands. Logan just laughed at his friend's failed attempt at nonchalance.

“It’s just- I’m nervous about the media inserting themselves in the events today. I mean I don’t want to have my toddlers in the spotlight any more than they already are.” Oscar explained. After being forced to reveal his kids to the world before he nor his fiancée were ready, and after just a few interviews and racing events the kids attended, Oscar didn’t want to give the media much more for the time being.

“Wow, way to make my wedding about you.” Logan teased, trying to relieve the utter look of anxiety and despair on Oscar’s face. But the Mclaren driver just shot him an unamused glare. “Look, I have told you time and time again if you don’t want them as flower girls- or kids, I’d gladly make my brother frolick down the aisle throwing petals. As much as I love my honorary niece and nephew, nothing would make me happier than making Dalton do that.”

This finally got a laugh out of Oscar. “They have been practicing too much to do that, we would be in for a shit storm if you tried to take away their time to shine.” It had been a big thing in the Piastri household for the past few months. Every second of every day, Frances and Hudson had been asking their parents questions about what weddings were like, how they should walk down the aisle, and if they had to see uncle Logan kiss his wife (they were not amused by the idea of having to see that). Not to mention the hundreds of times they forced their parents to watch how they would walk down the aisle, asking what they thought and ignoring any criticisms given to them (they saw no reason as to why they shouldn’t be allowed to dance and sing while throwing petals). 

“Then calm down. If all goes well there won’t be any media there, I mean I think we have done a pretty good job at making sure no one outside the event knows about it. Plus, no offense but there are plenty of people with far more interesting stories and scandals than your family. The tabloids are bored with y’all now that there isn’t anything new to expose.” Maybe a harsh way of putting it, but it was true, there were plenty of Formula 1 couples who had been exposed by the media for various reasons in attendance today. 

“Right. Got to say, Logan, the guestlist is impressive. I mean could you imagine telling your 13 year old self that the Lewis Hamilton would be attending your wedding?” Oscar asked. Even after a few years racing against the guy, the shock from being around him never wore off. He just had that ‘greatest of all time’ energy.

“I can’t even take the credit for much of it though. It's the bride who brought all the biggest names.” Logan rolled his eyes playfully. It was true though, his wife-to-be had made friends with all the biggest names in the world and they weren’t half assed friendships either. She could make even the tiniest of acquaintances feel like longtime companionships. She could make everyone feel so unbelievably loved and cherished in such a short time.

God he couldn’t wait to marry her. 

Oscar laughed at the lovesick grin on his friend’s face. Usually he’d tease him, but he decided maybe he should just cut the man some slack on his wedding day. 

But the urge was too great he couldn’t let Logan go unteased, before he could do so though-

“Dad! Dad! Dad! Look, me and Fran match!” Oscar’s son, Hudson, ran into the room, his sister following after him.

The two seemed to light up in their soft blue outfits.

“Don’t you two look awesome!” Logan said from behind the twins, making them turn around. “You guys look better than me on my own wedding day.”

The toddlers shouted in excitement as they ran to their favorite honorary uncle (much to Lando’s chagrin. He fought hard for that title).

“You two ready to be the stars of the show? Throwing petals ain’t easy work.” He said as he crouched down to hug the toddlers.

Oscar rolled his eyes. Leave it to Logan to make his own children completely uninterested in him. Fortunately, someone who was actually interested in him entered the room after them. His wonderful fiancée.

“You look gorgeous, honey.” Oscar said awestruck.

“You saw me in this earlier.” She deadpanned. 

“Let a man compliment his fincée, will you?” Holding her close to him, kissing her deeply. It was only when the two weren’t cut off with toddler “ewws” and “stop grossss” that they looked back at their children, currently in a… dance competition with the groom. “Glad to see how much they care for us.” Oscar sighed, feeling childish jealousy. 

“Let him entertain them, he’ll get some more practice for when he has his own kids.”

“He’s too young, honey. He is about to get married, he doesn't need to think about that right now.” Oscar scoffed, feeling offended for his children that Logan would ever dethrone his honorary niece and nephew from being his favorite kids.

“Says the man who had two kids by 18 and has been engaged twice, but not married, by 23.” Honey amused.

He blushed at the reminder that their relationship had been done a bit… backwards.

“They already have an officiant and audience, maybe we can just jump in with the bride and groom, two birds with one stone.”

“Nope! I already have two Piastri’s taking the spotlight today, I don’t need more.” Logan said while both twins climbed all over him.

Charles Leclerc (And the Leclerc Co.)

Normally, hard launching your child was not something a bride would encourage on her wedding day, but as the youngest Leclerc child, Charles’ sister loved the drama. Hence why her nephew was making his debut to the public as the ring bearer. Only a month old, the media hadn’t gotten to meet the cutie as he was born right at the start of winter break. It brought tears to his eyes, how insistent his baby sister was on having her nephew involved in her wedding. It was already an emotional day for Charles, who felt like he was losing his first baby as he walked her down the aisle and sent her off into her future, but he truly couldn’t be happier.

And doing it with his son by his side just made it all the more memorable. 

“Honey?” Charles’ girlfriend called as she popped her head into the room he was getting ready in. In her arms was their newborn who, while still so small, broke everyone’s heart at how big he was getting. “Oh, my love, are you seriously crying again?” she asked as he tried to inconspicuously wipe away his tears.

Being reminded that he had just been crying only made him start to cry more.

“Charlie, you are more emotional than I was while pregnant. What is going on with you today?”

“It is stupid, I’m sorry. It's just- it was yesterday my sister was in my arms, having just been born, and now she is getting married and the American is taking her away.”

If there was one thing the Leclerc brothers loved to do, it was make fun of their soon to be brother-in-law. They truly did love Logan, but it was so easy to pick on him and he was far too polite to try anything with them yet. If you asked them, they would say they are just treating him like the brother he is, but they also just really love how much it pissed their sister off, who will certainly be defending him. 

“Oh, sweetheart, she isn’t going anywhere. They are still going to live in Monaco, and you race with her husband almost every weekend. If anything now that they are married you will see more of her.” 

It was true. Even if the Leclerc brothers had a strict ban on dating drivers, they had to admit that their sister had found a good partner in Logan. A man who was driving alongside Charles, had been on the same team as Arthur in the past, and knew just how important and difficult the sport was on family. 

Giving her boyfriend a quick kiss on the cheek after wiping his tears from his face, Charles’ partner went on to try and fix the mess of hair that her lover was currently fighting. 

The Leclerc’s had terrible bed heads, something that unfortunately had already been seen in the first grandson, even at just a month old his hair was thick and unmanageable. 

Fortunately, Charles had calmed down enough that he was no longer a complete mess when his brothers entered the room. If Charles knew anything about his brother’s (and his sister) it was that such tears would have led to him being teased for the rest of his life about it. 

“Have you seen her?” Charles asked Enzo, hoping for any indication on how their sister was doing, having been too busy setting up for the wedding and taking care of his son to check on the bride thoroughly.

Arthur rolled his eyes, “When we tried to see her, Maman wouldn’t let us in.”

“Why? Is something wrong?” Charles’ girlfriend asked, the same level of concern in her voice displayed accross Charles’ face. 

“No, no, the bride said she wanted to have a little moment with the four of us before the wedding, so she didn’t want us to see anything before.” Enzo explained. He had understood her sentiment, Arthur… not so much.

Letting out a breath at the confirmation that nothing was wrong, Charles sat quietly while he got his hair tamed, his brothers playing with their nephew in the back.

It was a sight that almost brought tears to Pascale’s eyes, but she had already cried so much and she knew she needed to save the rest of her tears for the ceremony. Her three boys, all in different stages of their lives, all dressed up and ready to support their baby sister on her big day. 

There was a sense of love and excitement in the air, reminding her of when her daughter had first been born, her older brothers hardly able to sit still while they waited in anticipation. Though everyone was calm now, having gotten most of their childish impatience out of their system, those feelings hadn’t changed. 

“Someone wants to see you all.” She spoke up, getting the attention of her boys. Charles’ girlfriend pressed a kiss to his cheek and took their son from his uncles, wanting to give the Leclerc siblings a moment alone. 

“My goodness, you look stunning.” She said to the bride as she walked through the doorway before leaving. This made all the brother’s perk up, losing the rest of their patience as they waited to see their baby sister.

The second she stepped into the room and tears welled up in everyone’s eyes, the Leclercs knew it was going to be a long day full of bittersweet melancholy, but also one so full of love.

Lando Norris

“Have I told you how wonderful you looked?” Lando asked, grabbing his girlfriend’s hand as he ran his thumb over her knuckles.

She rolled her eyes, “Only a thousand times since we got in the car. Not to mention when I was getting ready, when I was trying on dresses, or when I was simply speaking to you about what I was thinking of wearing.” She teased.

He knew it was overkill, but he also knew how stressed she was. Not about the wedding, she was excited to attend and celebrate, but of the fact she knew she’d finally be identified as Lando Norris’s “unremarkable” girlfriend the tabloids have talked about for a while. 

The media knew he was dating not a model, or heir to a fortune, or an influencer, but a “simple” teacher, one who had a private instagram account with hardly 100 people on it. They had seen what pictures Lando posted of her, maybe a few posted by friends, but they never showed her face. They didn’t even know her name.

Even though their words were harsh, even though it hurt they thought she was undeserving of him when they didn’t know her, the anonymity at least came with the sentiment that all their judgements came from one simple fact, that she was a teacher. Now, they would have more to criticize, more to know, and she hated the thought.

Despite the public not knowing about her though, she had still been able to become good friends with many of Lando’s. Had been present for many arguments between Logan and Lando as they defended their individual titles of being “the best honorary uncle” to the Piastri twins and had been there to help watch the toddlers so Oscar’s fiancée could get a bit of a break during races. 

She loved so many of the people there, and she knew they all had her back. Because of this, she felt more ready to face the music. She shouldn’t be ashamed of who she was, she loved everything about her life, and she wouldn’t be made to feel bad for loving Lando. 

In the end, it was what the two of them thought and felt about their relationship that mattered. 

Lando smiled as he watched her take a deep breath, ready for what was to come. He’d move heaven and the earth for her, and he for sure wasn’t going to let some idiots online ruin something so good.

Lance Stroll

“You must have the worst heartburn, huh?” A mutual friend of a friend, Marie, asked.

“Oh, well actually-”

“Ugh it was so bad! And the indigestion, that really sucked. Oh! Reminds me of this one awful stretch of time when I was pregnant. I was actually also at a wedding…” Marie started on a tangent about some pregnancy horror story. One the currently pregnant woman she was talking to, didn’t appreciate hearing at the moment.

Lance looked over at his wife, stuck in conversation looking pained. Fearing that something was wrong with her or the baby, he quickly made his way over with an excuse to whisk her away.

“Are you alright?” He asked once out of earshot of Marie. 

His wife opened her mouth to answer, but was unable to when a choked sound made its way out first. The sound attracted the eyes of several wedding guests, who upon seeing that she was pregnant, turned back to their conversations, finding that as the excuse for such an outburst. While she was embarrassed when all eyes turned to her, the lack of interest in her wellbeing after seeing her belly just made her start to sob even more.

Knowing his wife was in distress and clearly the crowded room was adding to the discomfort, Lance led her to an unoccupied hallway. 

“Come on, hun. How can I make this better?” Sweetness, with a bit of helplessness, in his tone.

“You-you can’t!” She cried. God, how was she ever supposed to explain what the hell was happening with her. Especially when each second, she felt differently.

Maybe that was the problem. 

 “I’m- I am so tired of being the pregnant lady.” She managed to get out.

Lance frowned at the confession. “I know, love. I can’t imagine what it's like to be pregnant, and I wish I could help. I know it sucks, but you can get through-”

“Stop! That's the problem. Every single issue I have is written off as something that just happens with pregnancy. Like they are just side effects that can’t be helped! Like I just need to deal with them alone because “I signed up for this”. Maybe it sounds stupid or childish but I don’t give a fuck anymore, Lance. I don’t want to be treated like some pregnant lady, I don't want to be treated as if every single emotion I have is just because of hormones or because all women are just expected to suffer through this! Marie just came up to me and started talking about her own horror stories from when she was pregnant! I don’t want to hear that, not when she isn’t giving actual advice, just trying to laugh about things I, as the currently pregnant person, don’t find funny! I don’t want to talk about how I am so hungry and have people laugh and say ‘oh that's just what happens’. I want to get food! I want to be able to be upset without people losing interest the second they realize it's just the pregnant lady crying. I want the things I'm going through to be taken seriously, Lance.”

A beat of silence as he took in her words. 

As the silence stretched on though, she found herself with an apology forming on the tip of her tongue, feeling bad for yelling at her husband during her tangent when, even if he had contributed to the problem, he didn’t really do anything wrong. 

Just as she opened her mouth though, he got on his phone. 

She started to not feel as bad as she watched her husband seemingly ignore all she said.

“Are you-” She began, just to be cut off by him putting his phone in his pocket, and kissing her deeply.

Most of her anger seemed to disappear at that moment. He hadn’t kissed her like that in what felt like forever. Since she had told him she had been pregnant, he had been unsure of how to go about doing… well, anything. 

After a few passionately blissful seconds, he pulled away, still holding her face between his hands and stroking her cheek with his thumbs. “I ordered a car to take us to a crappy fast food place.”

She stammered, “What do- why?”

“You said you are hungry, the ceremony hasn’t even begun yet, we are going to be here for a while before we can eat and while I’m sure the bride and groom have an amazing set up, there isn’t a point in making you suffer any longer when we can fix it.” he explained.

She didn’t know what to say. She wanted to agree, but she also wanted to support their friends and knew she probably shouldn’t skip out on their wedding day. But she really needed something to eat and her feet were killing her already- 

“No, Lance, we shouldn’t it- it would be rude.” She answered.

Lance laughed at her attempt at trying to convince both herself and him. “As much as I’d love to stay, I’d much rather watch you eat a disgusting amount of fast food in an impressively short amount of time all the while dressed to the nines. Plus, we both know the bride and groom would be understanding.” He said as he grabbed her purse and opened the door for her. “After you, my love.” 

She sighed, realizing he was right. 

“Oh how gentlemanly of you,” she teased in a posh accent. “Is it often you whisk away distressed damsels to fast food restaurants?” 

“Only the gorgeous ones. I did earn my nickname of Sir Lancelot from my wife for a reason.” He teased back.

“It seems you have.” She replied with a kiss on the cheek.

Lewis Hamilton

“Oh, sweet pea. You look stunning!” Lewis said as he facetimed his daughter, currently at home with her mom.

The young girl giggled at the compliment, asking her dad about the wedding. She had been more than curious about weddings lately after hearing that her dad was attending one. 

“-and the bride wears a beautiful white dress”

“Like the one mommy is wearing?” she asked her dad, pointing to the oversized t-shirt her mom was wearing with paint stains on it from when she and her partner had painted the nursery for the 1 year old currently asleep in said room. Lewis laughed at the image.

“While I am sure your mommy could wear that and still be the most beautiful girl in the world. A wedding dress is a little… different.” Lewis answered.

“Mommy! Can I see your wedding dress?” her daughter asked.

Both parents froze at the question, realizing they might have not told their child a pretty important detail about her parents. 

“Oh- honey. Daddy and I never got married.” She answered. Her daughter looked back at the phone, at her dad, confused.

“Dad? Why didn’t you marry mommy? Don’t you love her?” 

Harsh. Lewis didn’t know how to answer such a question, but he eventually found the words. 

“Sweetheart, you know I love your mom very much. You are all my most favorite girls. Some people just don’t get married, they don’t feel the need to.” He answered. It wasn’t that the two of them didn’t want to, they had planned on it. But their first daughter had been unplanned, then their second had been too, and eventually, as they became everything to one another, they didn’t have a wedding so high on their priority list, knowing the proof of their love was evident in the two girls they were raising, in the life they had built together despite many unwanted opinions trying to ruin it. 

“Let me talk to your dad sweetie. Can you grab my water from the living room?” His girlfriend asked as her daughter handed her the phone and jumped off the bed.

After the sound of the young girl’s footsteps softened in the background, she spoke up, “Sorry about that, Lew, she saw a photo of some celebrity wedding today and her interest in the topic was reignited.”

“She is a curious kid, I get it. She is a smart one too, she gets it from her mother.” He watched his girlfriend blush at the compliment. Even while tired having to take care of the two young children alone, she seemed to be glowing. “We never did get around to marriage, did we?” 

She sighed, “I guess we got too busy. I hadn’t even thought about it in a while- not that I don’t want to marry you still!”

He laughed at her realization she may have chosen her words wrong, “No, I haven’t either. Two kids is a lot, and we both know how we feel about each other. But I will always be ready to marry you, the second you say so.”

“Well, I’ll always be ready to marry you, after you properly propose. You already got two kids out of me, I at least deserve a big flashy ring.” She teased.

“And you shall have it my love.” Lewis suddenly heard his daughter coming back. He spoke up when he saw her pop back up on screen, “What do you think, love bug? Should mommy and daddy get married? I think your mom would look beautiful in a big white dress, right?”

The little girl perked up at that, “Yes! But, will it be hard for mommy to wear a dress with the baby in her tummy?” She asked, pointing to her mom’s stomach.

Both adults froze. 

Slowly, Lewis’ girlfriend let out a deep sigh. “Baby, I told you not to talk about that with daddy till we could tell him…”

If his eyes opened any wider, they would have popped out of his head. “She’s serious? We are having another baby?”

“Surprise? I wanted to keep it a secret till you came back and make it all special but she was so sad when you left I told her to cheer her up.”

Lewis’ heart softened at the thought, “Well, I guess a wedding might have to be postponed for the time being” He amused.

They’d get around to it, maybe after this next kid, maybe after the next few.

Alexander Albon

Things had been… awkward for Alex and his girlfriend the past few days. After what started off as an innocent inquiry from a friend about the couple's plans for marriage in conjunction with Alex’s attending the wedding of his teammate, it seemed like there were some conversations the two needed to be having.

They had been together for years, longer than the current bride and groom had known each other. Longer than a lot of couples either engaged, married, or with kids had been dating. 

But there was still no ring.

It hadn’t been a problem before. They had talked about getting married, casually talked and joked about “when they had kids”. But those topics hadn’t been seriously considered for a while now. Like a hangnail that hurt every time it brushed against something, even though it would be so much better to just rip it off quickly and let it heal, neither Alex nor his girlfriend seemed to be able to broach the subject. 

They sat silently in the car, driving to the venue, painfully aware of what the other was thinking about. 

Did Alex not want to marry her? After so many years, maybe he just has never seen marriage as something he needed, plenty of couples decide not to get married. But wouldn’t he tell her if he didn’t want to ever be married, instead of letting her wait and wait and wait? Especially when he knew she wanted to get married- did he even know she wanted to get married? Did she even know if she wanted to get married? They lived together, their lives intertwined with one another, maybe they could just have a civil partnership. But that didn’t sound right in her mind. What if-

Her spiralling was interrupted when Alex turned on the radio, at full volume. Both wincing at the noise, he turned it down a little, letting the song fill the crisis filled air between the two. 

It helped a little, at least they could pretend they were both listening to the music instead of what they were actually doing, questioning their relationship. 

As the song ended, a radio talk show came on, one about elderly folks giving life advice. “Aw I love this, it always has sweet stories.” Alex said, trying to break the tension. 

“Here we have Violet with us! Now everyone, Violet got married for the first time about a year ago to her longtime partner, Vance. Both were 83 years old and had put it off for a long time, thinking they had been too old, but following a terminal diagnosis Vance was given, the two decided to go for it. Now a year later, Violet is here with her update. Violet, how are you doing today?” The host asked. The couple in the car stiffened, of course this is the topic. 

“I am doing well, thank you. Today is a special day, it would have been Vance’s 84th birthday, and I can say that while it is hard not to be with him, I have all my love for him and the love I knew he had for me to keep me going.”

“I am sorry to hear about his passing, Violet.” The host somberly said.

“Oh that is alright, I actually arranged to call back in because I recently received our wedding pictures, and looking at them reminded me I wanted to update the good folks that listen. While we knew Vance would pass soon after the wedding, I am so happy to have these photos to keep with me now that he is gone. We had written off marriage because we had both been ‘too old’ in our opinions. Neither of us had gotten married to our past partners before, so we didn’t feel the need now. While I don’t believe marriage is best for everyone, some folks just don’t need it, I can say for certain that being surrounded with family and loved ones as Vance and I celebrated our love, especially when we knew death would soon part us, I believe it was the greatest decision of my life. Vance knew I would be with him no matter how long he gave me, and that I would take on the grief if it meant I knew I truly loved and was loved. I really believed that comforted him in the end, and that alone comforts me. We were only married for about three months before he passed, but he will remain my husband till I eventually join him. And I couldn’t be happier for that.” Violet said, a mix of emotions filling her voice.

She turned off the radio before they could hear any more. 

Silence again filled the car- well apart from Alex’s sniffles. 

She turned to her boyfriend, who was driving while trying to wipe his tears without her seeing he was crying.

“Are- Alex are you okay?” she asked, concerned. 

“Yeah, no it's- yeah I'm good.” He unconvincingly replied. Suddenly, he slammed on the breaks, almost missing a stop sign, distracted by his tears. “Shit- I’m sorry I didn’t see-” 

She couldn't make out his words over the sobs. Fortunitally, he had enough of a sound mind to pull over before he could danger them more. 

Alex turned to his girlfriend abruptly, “I want to marry you. I want to marry you so badly and I know marriage has always been jokingly discussed between us, but I need to know you also want to marry me. I don’t want to wait till we are 83 and I am dying. I don’t want to wait another year, to be honest. So please just tell me if you aren’t-” She cut him off with a kiss, her own tears mixing with his. “Are you proposing?” She half-joke- half-sobbed. 

“Yes, fuck yes I am.” Instead of answering him, she just kissed him, again, just as passionately as the first. 

“We can’t tell Logan we got engaged the day of his wedding.”

Logan Sargeant

Bridesmaids on one side, Groomsmen on the other, the officiant and Logan in the middle.

Logan had memorized the order in which everything would go. He stood anxiously in front of a crowd of people, full of friends and family, as well as some of his idols since he was a child. People he still felt had no reason to even know his name, much less attend his wedding. 

Next came the Piastri twins with petals in their baskets. They took a few confident steps till they realized just how many people were looking at them. Then in an instant, the weeks of preparation for their big moment went out the window as they both stood there, frowns on their faces. Logan’s heart broke a little at how shy they had suddenly gotten.

Maybe he really should have had Dalton take their place. 

After a few moments the twins still didn’t move. Logan was about to make his way down the aisle to them, but his brother-in-law-to-be, Charles, stepped through the entrance to get to them, holding his newborn, who was acting as the ring-bearer despite being a month old and currently asleep. Charles crouched down between the two toddlers, whispering something no one else but the two of them heard, causing shocked but excited looks to replace the shy pouts. 

The toddlers each stood on the side of Charles and his sleeping child, throwing petals with renewed excitement. By the time they reached the end, Logan crouched down to give them each a hug, getting a kiss on the cheek and ‘good luck, Lo Lo’. Charles passed the rings to Dalton, the best man, and answered Logan’s questioning look with a quick explanation, “I told them my son was very nervous about walking down the aisle and I hoped they would walk with him. I also said you’d give them candy after.” 

Logan rolled his eyes, happy Charles had looked out for his honorary niece and nephew, but annoyed he now had to find candy for the toddlers unless he wanted a tantrum to end all tantrums at his reception dinner. 

The second the bride stepped down the aisle, her mom by her side, Logan forgot what he was worried about before. Suddenly, seeing his fiancé in her dress, glowing in a way that could only be explained by magic, Logan knew nothing in his life had ever felt so right. 

He had to stop himself from kissing her as she stood in front of him, only half listening to the officiant. He didn’t care about all the famous people in the crowd, didn’t care about how miserable he was at Williams, didn’t care about all the shit he got from fans, didn’t care about anything but the woman who was in front of him. 

In a flash, vows were exchanged, ‘I do’s were said, and he was kissing his wife and then running down the aisle. 

Everything was so good.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Could you do Navia, Clorinde and some other girls of your choice with a s/o that says "Those look quite heavy, mind if I hold them for you?" as they hold out their hands

(Genshin Impact) Navia, Clorinde, Chiori, Furina, Lynette, and Arlecchino's S/O asking to hold their hands

I ain't even gonna lie to you anon, I was this close to writing something entirely else before I did a double take. Can't-Read-Chris almost came back after such a long absence.

Navia at first is confused when S/O speaks up.

(Navia) "Huh? But I'm not holding anything-"

When her eyes glance downwards to their hands, Navia's confusion quickly turns into amusement, with the faintest hint of a blush.

(Navia) "Ooooh! Smooth, S/O!~"

Navia energetically takes S/O's hands into her own, leaning close into them as she laughs.

(Navia) "If you're offering, then of course! Do carry these heavy hands, S/O!"

Clorinde takes a second to process what S/O was asking. The only thing she had was-

...Ah. Her hands.

Clorinde quietly chuckles as she gently offers her hand to them, letting her palm squeeze around S/O's.

With how amused she is, Clorinde doesn't particularly care if anyone sees her like this, her focus entirely on S/O.

(Clorinde) "My thanks, S/O. Chivalry is not dead yet, it seems."

Chiori raised an eyebrow since she wasn't carrying her usual swords for cutting, let alone working at all.

Sighing out loud, Chiori finally realizes what they meant as her eyes rolled.

(Chiori) "How long did it take you to come up with that line, S/O?"

Well, since they offered, it'd be rude not to accept.

Chiori fingers interlock around S/O's, only slightly flustered from holding hands in public.

It was less so feeling everyone's eyes on her, and more the fact she was obliging that gods awful pick up line.

(Chiori) "I guess I can't criticize you too much since it worked...But I might anyway."

Furina pouts for a moment.

(Furina) "I-I am perfectly fine of carrying objects myself, thank you-"

...Wait, she wasn't even holding anything.

Oh.

OOOOH.

Furina tries to bounce back from that blunder, her hands fidgeting before promptly chuckling with as much confidence as she could muster.

(Furina) "Ah, you are quite sly, S/O! Very well, I will permit you to hold onto these pristine hands!"

Though this is her reaction in public. In private, she'd just shove her hands into them blushing madly.

Lynette's ears twitch for a moment before her eyes glance back up to S/O.

(Lynette) "...Is that really the best you got?"

Not that she knew any better lines herself, but that was probably one of the oldest ones in the book.

...Oh what the hell, not like she couldn't fault them for the complete confidence they had saying it.

Lynette's thumb brushes against the back of their hand idly as they walk side by side.

She's blushing ever so slightly, but her blank face remains. Although, her tail is swishing back and forth faster than it was before.

(Arlecchino) "Heavy with what, I wonder?"

Arlecchino knew exactly what S/O meant, but if they were going to be cute about this, then maybe she would be too.

(Arlecchino) "Are you sure your own hands are up to the task?"

Letting S/O make the first move to grab her blackened hands, she allows her grasp to relax into theirs.

She feels how soft their hands are to her own, admiring how gentle their touch is.

Judging by their happy expression, they didn't particularly seem to mind, which suited her just fine.

[claymoresword]

I Choose Her | Epilogue

Hermione Granger x Slytherin Fem!Reader

Summary: You are the daughter of two known death eaters from one of the oldest and richest families in the wizarding world. Are you truly prepared to give up everything you know for Hermione Granger?

Pairing: Hermione x Reader

Wordcount: 2.4k

Warnings: time jump, smut, porn very little plot, draco & y/n , kid fic coded, y/n & hermione endgame obv

Note: Hi, so this is an epilogue in theory but i think what it ended up being is just an open ended conclusion. Which doesn't sound promising, but it also just means that there will more for me to expand on (for side chapters) so it's exciting! The main series is now concluded but i am nowhere near done with writing Hermione x Y/n within this particular universe that I've cultivated. Long story short: more to come!

Eitherway, hope you enjoy this one ;)

Taglist: @gvrsto @aweidlich @xxsekhmet @arielj @poppyflower-22 @scarleigh1989 @smut-religiously777 @cocoyeehaw @blackbirdv98 @arcturusseer @iamcapitalgbicorn8287 @lonewalker17 @karasonromanoff @httphayn @bigbadsofty07 @cherryflavoredcoke @dumpsapphic @idontwannabehereatm @js-a-writer @baylegend6 @puta1 @t-wylia @raven-ss @unexpected-character @brocoliisscared @aki-ham @theheartwants-what-itwants

Hermione turns towards the commotion in the living room, standing from her seat abruptly with her voice raised.

“Hugo! Give Scorpius a turn or I will shut that entire thing off, this is my final warning.” She asserts as the children bickered amongst themselves– fighting over the Playstation controller.

“Yes mother..” Your son mumbles, begrudgingly passing the controller over to his friend.

You lift the rim of the mug you are clutching up to your lips, masking your amusement at the display– your son has never taken to the idea of sharing; even with his own sister.

As anticipated, your attempt proves fruitless when you are caught on the receiving end of Hermione's narrowed gaze.

“Don't you dare laugh, he takes after you.” Hermione remarks as she pokes at your stomach, and your expression instinctively contorts in mock offense.

You soon turn to Draco and his wife, who remain sat across from you.

“Do you hear the way she speaks to me?” You retaliate in jest, earning a light slap to the arm from Hermione.

Astoria does grace you with a laugh, whether forced or not, you accept it as a small triumph.

Draco remains impartial, quickly redirecting the conversation.

“I've never understood those things” He gestures to the game console, and then the television it is attached to.

“I mean, when Y/n and I were their age we actually spent time outside.” Draco adds and you can't contain a scoff.

“Right, and you tormented me.” You contend, not allowing your best friend the chance to rewrite history simply to impress his wife.

“Did not.” Draco denies regardless.

You feel Hermione’s hand glide across your shoulders, causing them to relax involuntarily. Soon her fingers are delicately toying with your ear. A habit she had picked up over the years– one constantly reassuring, in an odd way.

“You were a nightmare.” You insist, leaning back in your chair, and Draco possesses enough cheek to appear affronted.

“I was a delight.” He claims defensively. This time it is Hermione who scoffs, and you allow yourself a smirk of satisfaction.

It is now two against one.

Astoria chuckles once more, hiding a smile behind her hand as she glances between you and your wife.

“Darling, I do find that hard to believe.. you seem to forget that we went to the same school, and Hogwarts was never immune to gossip.” She coos, turning to her husband, and Draco redirects his attention to her.

“Oh, now you're ganging up on me too?” He accuses, and you watch as Astoria smooths her hand across Draco's chest, up to the collar of his shirt. Without saying much else, she kisses him, and that quickly puts an end to the debate at hand.

You clear your throat, shifting in your seat as the couple escalated in their displays of affection.

You turn to Hermione, and she gives you a similar look in return, eventually nuzzling her face into the crook of your neck, an effort to escape the discomfort.

“I would say it's time for dessert but it appears they've already started.” Your quip, a whisper only for Hermione's ears.

Your wife stifles her laughter against your shoulder, glacing at the couple again, who remain in a full lip lock, oblivious to the world around them.

“Do you think they'd notice if you and I just got up and left right now?” Hermione asks, and you grin. Feeling inspired and overcome with the want to feel her mouth against your own.

“Probably not,” You respond, now leaning in to kiss her. Lightly at first, but as your hand slips around her waist, Hermione’s mouth opens wider, inviting your tongue.

You pull an involuntary moan out of her, causing your own smile to form mid kiss. Hermione breathes in sharply at the realization, before feebly shoving you away with her palm against your chest.

She is flushed, her chest heaving. Even after all the years of marriage; you'll never tire from watching this gorgeous woman blush.

Hermione averts her gaze, as if overwhelmed by your stare, and your smile only widens.

“I'll go fetch the cake.” Your wife says suddenly, her hand falls from your shoulder as she rises from her seat.

You can only watch as she disappeared into the kitchen.

Your own heart, pounding.

Seventeen years since you first met, and yet your pull towards Hermione remained formidable; your bond, unbreakable.

Seventeen years.

Your smile remains as you go to take another large swig from your mug. Draco and his wife have since stopped kissing, now instead whispering in secrecy to each other.

You roll your eyes, beginning to forget the point of inviting them today.

“Boys, dessert!” You bark, easily capturing Scorpious and Hugo's attention.

Now your son and his friend race towards the dinner table, disovering something new to squabble about.

Soon, Hermione emerges from the kitchen, a large lemon cake in one hand a stack of plates in another.

You then turn around in your seat to address your daughter. She had been a few paces away, sitting quietly by the window. Her nose in her book, as she often is. “Darling, do you want any cake?”

“Yes, please.” Rose replies simply, without looking up.

Your daughter; truly every bit like her mother. In both temperament, and appearance. Blessed with Hermione's rich curly hair and her gentle eyes. She's assertive as much as she is kind.

Your heart soars everytime you look at her, yet you are also overcome with the urge to weep all the same, for reasons unbeknownst to you.

Perhaps it was the cost of unconditional love, the price every parent had to pay. An impending burden that you could only do so much to ignore.

The fact is your daughter will not remain pristine and unspoiled forever. Life frowns upon innocence, it is bound to be stripped away from her; a violent and inescapable fate.

Change is a torturous and ugly thing, it is a challenge everyone must endure, no matter what you try to tell yourself.

“What's wrong?” Hermione's concern pulls you out your thoughts, you feel her hand grasping your arm.

You force yourself to smile, shaking your head dismissively. Now aware of Draco and Astoria's quizzical eyes on you.

“Nothing, I was just thinking.” You assure, resuming your position next to her at the table.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You let out a breath of relief as Hugo finally slips into a slumber in your arms. You gently lift him to lay your son on his bed properly, subsequently draping the covers over him.

Shutting the book in your hand, you set it down on his nightstand, wary not to make too much noise.

“Goodnight, sweet boy.” You utter quietly, threading your fingers through his hair before placing a tender kiss upon his forehead.

Your son remains asleep as you exit his bedroom and gently shut the door behind you.

You roll your shoulders as you start down the stairs, stifling a groan at the ache.

However, any feelings of discomfort dissipate once you catch sight of Hermione, standing by the sink, still busy with the dishes.

“Do you need my help?” You offer as you step through the kitchen, rolling up your sleeves in preparation.

Hermione throws you a quick glance before replying. “No, thank you, I'm almost done.” Your wife says as she rinses the final traces of soap off a plate before propping it onto the drying rack.

Your stare soon turns incredulous as you approach your wife.

“I don't understand– you'd get the dishes done twice as quickly if you used your wand.. you won't even have to stand by the sink to do that.”

You remark, now standing close enough to Hermione that you can smell the familiar and welcomed scent of her hair.

“I prefer to wash them the normal way, I suppose I'm just used to it.” She explains and you let out a huff.

You needed no more proof that your wife is indeed, muggle-born.

“So odd.” You tease in return, Hermione lets out a breathless chuckle as you wrap your arms around her torso.

Your breasts pressing up against her back as you embrace her tightly from behind.

You observed as Hermione washed all traces of dish soap off her hands before turning off the faucet.

“Is Hugo asleep?” Your wife asks, and you nod. You hear the subtle way her breath catches in her throat as you kiss her neck.

“He did put up a brave fight, but he's out.” You quip.

*

Hermione’s chuckle morphs into a proper gasp as you slipped your hand underneath her shirt, cupping her breast, her nipple quickly growing hard from your touch.

Your wife merely leans further into you, allowing you better access to her neck.

“I don't think I got the chance to tell you how gorgeous you looked today.. I liked the dress.” You admit, nipping lightly at the column of her throat.

Hermione lets out a satisfied hum, pressing her rear harder against your groin, as she reaches back, her hand finds the nape of your neck. “I had a feeling you'd enjoy it.”

“Well, I did. You always look beautiful.” You state, expertly kneading her other breast, drawing a breathless moan from your wife; one that drives you half-mad with need.

“Fuck, you're perfect.” You praise her again, lips still brushing against her neck.

You swiftly shift your hand lower, unlacing her pajama bottoms, she lets you do so, quietly, for a moment.

“Even now? Even after how much my body has changed from bearing our children?” Hermione asks.

Ever since the birth of your son, insecurity has polluted her– and you find it entirely unwarranted.

Hermione is flawless, she deserves to feel beautiful and you aim to remind her of it everyday.

“Especially now.” You persist, finally slipping your hand inside her underwear.

Hermione lets out a louder moan as you boldly palm her heat, feeling how wet she is already.

She whimpers as your finger prods at her entrance. Your wife grips a fistful of your hair, her other hand firmly on the edge of the sink to steady herself.

“The children–” Hermione pants, her voice strained with arousal. Her words of concern do not match the way she is grinding against your hand ever so slightly.

“–are sound asleep in their beds.” You assure, finally entering with another finger.

Hermione’s hips buck against your touch as you are now knuckle deep inside of her. Broken gasps of pleasure is all she can manage as you begin pumping, slowly, in and out.

Your wife lets loose an unrestrained moan as you curl your fingers. You watch as she bites her bottom lip in an attempt to conceal her sounds of pleasure.

You can't help but groan at the sight.

It is near agony– no one should ever be this enticing.

Time is unrelenting to some, and cruel to most. Yet it has been generous to her; your wife has truly only gotten more desirable with age.

“You're so intoxicating..” You allow your own desires to speak.

Then, you place a lingering peck on her cheek, simultaneously pulling another loud moan from Hermione before she guides you in for a kiss, one on the mouth, desperate and hungry.

You consume her gasps and whimpers as you continue pumping in and out of her at a steady, yet urgent, pace.

Eventually, your thumb finds her clit, you begin rubbing in a circular motion in tandem, and soon, Hermione can no longer kiss you properly.

She is reduced to mewls and pants. She removes her fingers from your hair, letting her arm fall to her side before harshly gripping the hem of your shirt.

In truth, your wife could just as well shred the fabric to pieces and you simply wouldn't care.

Hermione's fingers graze your abdomen, and it is only then you notice that it was her clumsy attempt to undress you, but her plans are soon destabilized as a wave of pleasure wrecks her body anew.

You are now forced to place a hand over her mouth as your wife begins to tremble. She is close. You could feel it in the way her cunt was clenching around your fingers, almost painfully so.

“Come.. come for me, beautiful.” You urge, your breath against her ear; that is all it took for Hermione to surrender herself to her climax.

As she moans against your hand, you find yourself taking in the way her chest heaved violently, her fingers digging into the counter till her knuckles turned a pale white– utterly vulnerable, and breathtaking, and she is all yours.

“My god, y/n–” Hermione curses once she has gained enough of her strength back.

Even so, your wife continues to rest some of her weight against you, and you are happy to provide her the support.

Hermione mewls into your kiss as you pull your fingers out of her. She watches through hooded eyes as you pull away so you could take your digits into your mouth, tasting her release.

Your wife turns around fully, resting her back against the counter as she continues to observe you. Her arousal, searing and visceral.

Desire shrouds the both of you, impairing all sense and judgment. It doesn't take long at all before Hermione is on you once more. As soon as you remove your fingers from your mouth, she replaces it with her tongue.

Hermione swallows your noises of pleasure as she finds the hem of your shirt once again, this time successfully pulling it over your head before discarding it, heedless and uncaring.

Her hands quickly find your breasts as she trails wet, languid kisses along your jaw and eventually your neck.

You are aroused beyond belief, and you can hardly think– you want to slip your fingers inside of your wife once more, you need to feel her, taste her. and you need it now.

As your mouths make contact once more, you prop your hand firmly underneath Hermione's thigh, lifting her in one swift motion, setting her on top of the kitchen counter.

Hermione lets you remove her shirt in record time, you fling it out of your grasp in a similarly incautious manner, not heeding where it lands before your mouth makes contact with her nipple.

You licked and sucked at it eagerly, with primal and unchecked want. A string of trembling moans from your wife urge you on, she gasps as you shift your attention to her other breast before just barely mustering enough to speak.

“No– wait, not here.” Hermione gasps, pulling your head back, her chest now wet and glistening from your saliva.

Before you can respond with something coherent, your wife kisses you again, open-mouthed and deep, but it ends far sooner than you'd like. Happily, her next words easily make up for it.

“Take me to bed.”

[bbyobbyo]

Ever since you stopped using his Spotify account in the mornings, you find other ways to mess with your boyfriend.

A short continuation of this fic, but can be read as a standalone.

content: fluff, established relationship, idol!Jihoon, banter, reader and jihoon just have a permanent jam session going on, they’re in love i swear

wc: 857

note: ahhh they’re back!! thank you to everyone who read the first part and gave it love😊 this has been rotting my brain for a while and i originally was playing with this concept for the original but couldn’t pull it together but we’re here now! shoutout to @highvern because it was partly inspired by her fic “Between the Titles” which is such a great read that i highly recommend along with literally everything else she writes!! all the songs featured here are real and from an era of kpop I hold near and dear to my heart so if you recognize any of them, you’re a real one 🥰

Jihoon is not a morning person, never has been. As he sits in the dressing room of the filming studio, he can feel his eyelids getting increasingly heavy. Some of his members are actively sleeping, in fact, and Jihoon knows he’ll be joining them soon if Wonwoo takes any longer in that makeup chair.

Blasting in his ears is his usual Bruno Mars playlist, a sad attempt to try to recover his energy before he knocks out next to Mingyu sleeping on a mat on the floor, but to no avail because his mind slowly slips away until a piercing airhorn noise jolts him awake.

SEVENTEEN TEEN TEEN NEOWANA SAI E

Uhh. This was definitely not his Daily Bruno Mars Mix.

He immediately searches his screen to find out what happened when he finds his answer in the form of a text from you.

[8:18 am] good morning sleepyhead :)

[8:18 am] hope I didnt scare you too bad :)

He scrunches his face up in disbelief, half amused that you managed to catch him off guard with possibly the most annoying wake up song on Seventeen’s discography, and half annoyed at the realization that he must’ve forgotten to cancel your Spotify Jam session from yesterday.

He decides to leave your text on read. After all, he has plenty of time to be petty today. Furiously searching through his library, he queues up a song and before Mingyu can finish singing the first chorus, he smashes the next track button in smug anticipation.

Now Playing: Fxxk U • Gain, Bumkey

And he doesn’t have to wait long before he gets your reply.

[8:20 am] oh i see how it is

Now Playing: This is War • MBLAQ

If Jihoon wasn’t awake before, he definitely is now. Even as he gets called in to do his makeup next, he thinks carefully about his next move.

Now Playing: LOSER • BIGBANG

…

Now Playing: WHO, YOU? • G-DRAGON

An audible scoffs escapes from his lips as he involuntarily tilts his head back in amusement, much to the dismay of his makeup artist who had just started on his foundation. He mutters a shy sorry before resuming his search for a reply. Maybe he needs to take a different approach to this if he hopes to continue having Jam sessions with you in the future.

Now Playing: Whatcha Doin’ Today • 4Minute

As Jihoon eventually discovers, his hopes to change the topic of conversation were in vain as two songs were suddenly queued one after another.

Now Playing: Why Don’t You Know • CHUNG HA, Nucksal

Next in Queue: Mind Your Own Business • Ailee

Jihoon thinks he’s met his match, coming to the realization that he could never out sass the love of his life. But he wasn’t willing to back down so easily either.

Now Playing: I’m so sick • Apink

Next in Queue: Because of you • After School

Your next move nearly sends him to tears.

Now Playing: Excuse Me • AOA

Next in Queue: You Don’t Love Me • Spica

Next in Queue: I ain’t going home tonight • Navi, Geeks

Next in Queue: I Don’t Need a Man • miss A

As he chuckles to himself for what seems like the hundredth time this morning, this newfound form of entertainment suddenly becomes incredibly precious. Although you see each other nearly every day, Jihoon realizes just how much he misses you, talking to you about everything and nothing at all, bantering like you’ve known each other for your entire lives.

Now Playing: Am I too easy? • U-KISS

...

Now Playing: Mystery • Beast

Even though he couldn’t be with you physically, he knew you were enjoying yourself just as much as him on the other side. He could almost picture your smile of satisfaction as you found your next song, knowing that he would appreciate your humor. And appreciate he did, happily tapping away at his screen until his makeup artist puts on his finishing touches and tells him to call the next member.

Now Playing: Gotta Go • CHUNG HA

Next in Queue: I’m Busy • 2NE1

Next in Queue: Plz Don’t Be Sad • HIGHLIGHT

…

Now Playing: Okay Dokey • MINO, ZICO

Little does he know that his members are in the corner snickering at the sight, knowing that only one thing could have their producer smiling like an idiot at his phone the whole morning.

Soon enough, Jihoon and his members get swept up into their schedule involving the filming of various contents for their Youtube Channel, a task that usually takes the entire day if a game is involved. Thankfully, the game allowed for members to go home early, a rare treat considering how competitive his members can get when it comes to shooting content.

After his usual rounds of “good work everyone” to the company staff and his members, he gets ready to see the person who been on his mind (and in his ears) since the morning. Taking out his phone, he queues one last song while exiting the building.

Now Playing: Run to you • SEVENTEEN

[b14augrana]

Coastlines

You and your mami go on vacation

Alexia Putellas x child!reader

masterlist

Warnings: ✖️, this is just fluff

A/N: this is my first time writing a child!reader fic 🥴 everyone say hi to our baby putellas!

i know i had a poll up for a few hours but i’ve just realised that ad astra per aspera (which won by a long shot) will probably take a while to write because it’s gonna be pretty long and in depth, and i wrote this quicker than expected so i might as well publish it. enjoy and let me know what u think!

“Capri, cariña. Can you say Capri?”

You smile at your mami in the mirror as she braids your hair, and you respond to her, “Capi!”

“Very close. Ca-pri, come on, you can do it,” Alexia coos, securing the end of your braid with a little rubber band. Your eyebrows knit together as you concentrate extra hard on pronouncing the word right for Mami. “Capi– noooo, that not it. Ca-pri… Capri?”

“You did it!” Alexia cheers, clapping her hands together. You beam immediately, copying her gesture as you clap your little hands and grin at her in the mirror. “Capri, am I saying it?” you ask eagerly, turning your head to look at her.

“Perfect,” she replies, placing a soft kiss to your forehead as she holds onto your shoulders gently. “Now you can pick what to wear in your hair.”

“Can you pick for me, mami? Too many, hard to pick,” you say.

You stand up and toddle over to your box of hair accessories. Alexia still remembers when you were half the age you are now, and you could barely stand up. You’ve come so far.

You lift the box up, and it’s not very heavy or big, but you feel strong lifting it all on your own without Mami.

She’s about to choose when you reach in and pull out a colourful bandana. It’s got a design on it that represents a neighbourhood, and it’s printed in purple-blue and pink stripes. In other words, it’s a 21/22 Barça third kit that Alexia repurposed.

About a month ago, she asked you what you wanted to wear in your hair, much like she did today. You got up and told her to wait, then you ran out of her bedroom.

When you came back, you had your tiny-versioned third kit on your head and a beaming smile on your face as you told her you were ready to go.

Alexia had multiple copies of the third kit from the 2022 season, so she transformed it into a little bandana you could properly wear on your hair.

“You want to wear that one?” she asks, and you nod confidently, handing it to her so she can tie it on your head.

She spins you around and ties it just above your hairline, smiling fondly as she spins you back around and admires her work. “Muy guapa, cariña. Put on your shoes and we can go to the beach.”

Mami stands up and walks to her suitcase, then she grabs her flip flops. You remember that you have the same flip flops as Mami and naturally, you want to match with her, so you run to pick up your own flip flops that are left beside your open suitcase.

You appear beside Alexia and stamp your foot to draw attention to your footwear. “Mami, look! I’m just like you!” you giggle.

She hopes that one day, other people will say the same thing when you grow up and play football for Barça just like her, keeping the Putellas legacy alive for another generation.

All she’s ever wanted out of a child is one who will inherit her footballing prestige, and she thinks you’re exactly that, because you love to kick your mini football around the house back at home, and you’ve got an eye for hitting it against the couch.

For now, she smiles at you, sticking her foot outwards while you’re amused by your matching shoes.

“Let’s go to the beach now,” Alexia says, offering you her hand. You happily grab ahold of her index finger with your entire hand, since that’s all you can fit.

Your little bag full of beach essentials is on your back as you and Mami walk to the beach. The bag of actual essentials is on Alexia’s back. Italy is a very nice country, and there’s so many colourful houses in Capri.

As you totter down the streets alongside Mami, you pass many people. To each one of them, you wave hello, and you grin every time they wave back at you as you turn to your Mami and tell her about your new friends that waved at you.

You’re totally enamoured of the neighbourhoods you two walk through to end up at the beach.

Immediately, you bend down to swoop your hand through the soft sand and laugh at the sensation. “Sand!” you exclaim, holding a fistful up to Alexia.

“That’s very nice, but what about the water?” she responds, motioning to the clear light blue water ahead. Your eyes light up, and you tug Alexia towards the water, though she doesn’t go far because you’re only tiny and not that strong yet.

She laughs and pulls you back towards her, picking you up in one fluid motion. “We can’t swim yet, you need to put on sunscreen!”

You huff and fold your arms stubbornly, frowning until Alexia gently tickles you in the stomach and sends you into a giggle fit which brings back your grin.

“Sunscreen first and then you can swim for as long as you want, I promise,” Alexia says, walking to a nearby beach umbrella with you in her arms. She sets you down, and once she lays out the beach mat, you plop down and get ready for her to put the sunscreen on.

She unpacks the bag and puts your water bottle and beach towel out on the mat, along with the sunscreen and her own water bottle. You unpack your own bag and pull out your mermaid toys and arm floaties.

“Mami, blow?” you toddle over to Alexia with the floaties in your arms, thrusting them forwards for her to blow up.

“In a minute cariña, sit down first so I can put your sunscreen on and then I’ll blow up your floaties. Vale?” She takes the floaties from you anyway and places them down beside her.

You nod, bum shuffling across the mat until you’re sitting in front of Alexia. You giggle as the cold sunscreen touches your face, and you scrunch your nose with a little gummy smile.

You’re just the bubbliest baby she’s ever seen. You have her smile and the same almond eyes, which disappear whenever you smile. Everything about you is tiny and adorable, and Alexia can’t help but be in awe of you the entire time.

Many people she knew had plans to spend their vacation with others. Alexia elected to spend hers with you, and she’s unapologetically glad she did, because now she’s on an island off the coast of Italy with the person she loves most and she’s the happiest she could be.

“All done,” Alexia says, rubbing the excess sunscreen on her own arms. You clap your hands and your smile hasn’t faltered. “Can we swim, Mami?” you ask hopefully, but your smile finally fades when Alexia shakes her head.

“I’m not swimming yet, I’m sorry cariña. Maybe later.”

“Not swim without Mami!” you protest, smacking your hands against the mat. You pout and cross your arms once again, kicking your floaties away.

Alexia frowns, grabbing your floaties back as she tries to restore your good mood. “I’ll swim later! Don’t you want to go see if you can find any fishies?”

You turn your back on her, shaking your head adamantly. “No!”

Mami sighs and begins to blow up your floaties anyway. When she’s done, she puts them in her lap. “You still need to put your floaties on.”

You let her slip them onto your arms, but afterwards you go back to crossing them tightly over your chest. “No mami, no swim,” you state.

“Okay okay, you little monkey,” Alexia laughs, standing up and running to the water. You’re quick to follow her, and you stumble along happily behind her with a newfound smile on your face that’s wider than ever. You and Mami go crashing into the water with a big splash.

Alexia pops up from underneath the water, and she shakes the water from her face and flicks it on you. “Mami, watch out!” you laugh, splashing her back by slapping your toys on the surface of the water.

She laughs as well, and soon you’re both splashing each other with your hands and toys. She puts you on her back and wades through the water, the pair of you floating calmly in the clearest sea you’ve ever seen.

“I like Ca-pri,” you say, holding onto Mami tightly as she swims. “Me too, cariña. It’s very nice,” Alexia replies, and the water laps at your back while she speaks.

Eventually, when the water is shallow enough, Mami lets you off her back and you can play with your toys in the water. Your bandana is helpful because your head doesn’t burn in the sun while you play, and you have more fun.

Alexia watches you fondly as you kick your little legs to stay afloat and play with your mermaids until it’s time to go and you trudge out of the water, teeth chattering slightly. The water and the sun kept you warm, but now it’s starting to set and you’re getting cold.

Mami wraps you in your towel and deflates your floaties while you put on your flip flops again, and then she packs your toys and floaties into your bag. “Come on cariña,” she says once you’re all packed up, giving you her hand again, “Do you want ice cream?”

“Yes! Love ice cream!” you exclaim, doing a little jump of happiness before gripping onto Alexia’s index finger again. “Let’s go get ice cream then, hm?” she adds, and you let go of her finger for a moment so you can clap your hands excitedly.

“Ice cream, ice cream!”

The chances of you pursuing the same career as Alexia used to be her biggest concern, but now there’s so many other things she looks forward to, like vacationing in lots more places with her carbon copy and eating gelato in Italy while the sun goes down.

She wouldn’t have it any other way.