#but a couple of sharp's eggs

[aesopsharpmybeloved]

The Massage

When Aesop Sharp returns home to find his fiancée in bed with aching muscles from a long day of work, he's quick to offer his help. However, the situation takes a much more intimate turn, leaving both of them enjoying far more than just a little relief.

Big thanks to my dear friends @tea-withjamandbread and @dzajna for bearing with me while I wrote this beast, and providing their feedback and advice ❤️

18+ GO AWAY CHILDREN

[FULL NSFW PICTURE]

The Massage (9.8k)

tw: age difference (reader is an adult and has been for quite some time now), explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, oral sex, might be cheesy

Aesop Sharp sighed with relief as he pulled off his coat and blazer, depositing both on the hanger by the door before freeing his feet and calves from the heavy leather boots, replacing them with the soft slippers he wore in the house. 

He knew his beloved was home, since the messenger bag she carried to work lay upon the bench in the cloakroom, but he currently couldn't hear a sound which would hint as to where she was. Perhaps she was out in the garden, he thought, she did like to rest there for a bit when she came home. Before beginning his search for his young fiancée, Aesop headed off into the ground floor bathroom in order to wash his hands and refresh himself a little.

Once there, he cast a quick cleaning charm on his clothes, swiftly ridding them of any traces of sweat or remains of any fumes from the potions brewed during his classes today that might've lingered. He splashed cool water on his face and let it air-dry. A few droplets still cooled him where they clung to his beard as he ran his fingers through his hair. Once he deemed himself presentable enough, he exited the bathroom and made his way through the dining room into the winter garden, and then out into the garden after putting on his outside shoes once more.

It was quite a nice afternoon, the air cool and crisp. The earth smelled of rain, the last remains of winter fading away and making way for spring to come. The sky was rather grey and sunless, but Aesop's mood was not at all soured by that. No, he instead inhaled more of the earthy scent, letting his eyes glide over the sizable garden. It looked quite different than it had when he still lived here by himself. There were more flowers in the flowerbeds, a little fire pit was added for the two of them to warm up on cool evenings spent outside, and a small shed was built to house his beloved’s owl. 

Aesop made his way around the house, only to discover his wife-to-be was nowhere to be seen. He went back inside, mindful not to make a mess with his damp and slightly muddy shoes. It wasn't too cold outside, but he nevertheless shivered a bit when the warmth of the dining room enveloped him once more.

"(F/N)? Are you home, love?" He called out softly, off-handedly making the kettle float from its place on the stove to the tap, filling itself up with water before going back to its original place, so that they could share a cup of tea once he found her.

"Here," came muffled from above him. The professor smiled and unhurriedly made his way upstairs, ascending the steps with an easy step. He had to admit he felt quite appreciative of the work he and his beloved did in the house since she officially moved in with him. The house was never once uncomfortable, of course, but following the lack of fairer sex in the home, not to mention the depression that settled over him after Ashley's death, the house grew a little... empty. Most of the original furniture from when he was a child remained there, but without loving care, the paint faded and chipped, the wood surfaces lost their shine, and some articles of furniture grew desperately outdated. 

When he still lived by himself and mostly just for himself, Aesop hardly cared. The few visits he had, mainly just from his mother, Dinah and Abraham, never once commented on the state of his home, and he was quite happy about it. However, when the young woman he couldn't wait to marry came to live with him, it was like he saw just how metaphorically grey the home had become. It didn't go well with the radiance of his sweetheart, of their love, and maybe of Aesop himself these days. 

So they made the acceptable investment of one shilling for a large muggle catalogue of furniture and got to work. Aesop had smiled to himself then - maybe he'd tell Matilda of this endeavour of theirs. After all, a lot of transfiguration had been involved. Maybe she could make a similar exercise for her students - this was definitely more useful than turning a porcupine into a pincushion, at least in his opinion. Not that he'd tell her that... It took more than a week, mostly because they both had full time occupations after all, and when he and (F/N) were finally done, they were more than a little glad the next day was a Sunday, their magical cores feeling drained. However, it really felt worth it. 

The house was once more perfectly warm and cosy, just like it was when Aesop had been a small boy, and then later when he and Dinah lived together. It once more held that comforting scent he could never quite put his finger on, and he felt the wear and tear of his teaching job melt away into comfort. The colours of fabrics, be it the sofas and armchairs, rugs, or perhaps some tapestry, were vibrant and warm, the wood of the tables, bookcases, and the wardrobes in the hallway once more shone and glistened with novelty. The rooms which were empty for long years, including Aesop's own childhood bedroom, became comfortable looking guest rooms for the time being. At least so until Aesop and (F/N) fully joined their hands in holy matrimony and embraced the idea of procreation. Aesop never once stopped feeling at home in the large house, but the way things were now, he felt genuinely happy every time he stepped over the threshold.

Finally, Aesop opened the door to his and (F/N)'s bedroom - it had more Ravenclaw colours than he'd personally seek out normally, but the end result certainly made for a very comfortable space. His beloved certainly seemed to think so, given she was lying on the spacious bed on her stomach, her arms idly by her sides and her face buried into the pillow. Aesop grinned, as he looked around. He could see the woman's outer, slightly dirt-stained clothing hanging from one of the chairs in the room. 

He chuckled to himself and slowly walked to her side of the bed. Noiselessly, he kneeled on the floor, his face close to her head. Feeling his presence, his fiancée's head finally turned, and a pair of large tired eyes met his own. 

"Hello," she murmured hoarsely, but nevertheless offered her lips to him. Aesop didn't waste a single second, he chased her mouth in a long, sweet kiss, his right hand gently stroking the woman's back and waist. 

"How was your day, my sweet?" Aesop asked, though he could very much see her day had been difficult and strenuous. She merely groaned in return, and stayed silent for a few minutes, during which Aesop continued to stroke her back and shoulders gently. "Well," she spoke finally, "if you ever feel like trying to subdue a frightened unicorn stallion without using a light stupefy at first, I can tell you it's not a good idea... I took some Skele-Gro and Wiggenweld, of course, so I can proudly say my arm and my ribs are, once more, fully intact, but my muscles are still killing me..."

A small click left the professor's lips, his concern for his sweetheart's well being obvious. Nevertheless, he didn't say anything for several moments. But then: "Do you think you could lift your arms for me, my dear? I want to try and help you..." She observed him with a curious expression, but did as she was told, seemingly with great difficulty. 

Aesop's large warm hands slipped under the hem of her blouse and pulled her chemise out of her drawers. He then carefully slid the soft materials up her body, over her head, and off her arms. He took in the sight she made momentarily - her hair was spread around her head like a halo, and her soft breasts were squished against the mattress in a rather lovely fashion. However, he shook his head then - now was the time to make his sweetheart feel better. His hand once more glided over the pale expanse of her back before it retracted and the professor made way to his side of the bed. After safely placing his wand upon his bedside table, he reached into one of the drawers and pulled out a small glass jar containing dark pink ointment. 

He rolled up his shirt sleeves, and, without further ado, climbed atop the bed, and then carefully straddled his sweetheart's body, until he was partially sitting on her pert bottom. She huffed a little when she felt the extra weight on her bum, though it was not so much a huff of pain or discomfort, as it was one of confusion. "What are you up to, Ace?" she questioned, struggling to turn her head further to be able to look at him. Aesop only smiled: "Just wait. I promise it'll feel nice."

He took the cork out of the jar, and reached two fingers inside. It was one of his experimental brews, back when he was still looking for a cure for his leg. This particular ointment made muscles loosen up, and gave off a very pleasant warmth when rubbed into the skin. Which is exactly what Aesop did, once he deemed the amount of ointment on his fingers acceptable. 

It was cool upon the young woman's skin at first, and she hissed at the feeling. However, less than a minute later, she was pretty much melting under Aesop's strong and steady hands. The professor himself was very careful in his application of the ointment at first, but grew a little firmer once he felt the kinks in his fiancée's back begin to loosen up. Soon he was fully massaging her slight shoulders and back, and thirstily drank in the sweet sounds that left her lips, as well as the flush that coloured her cheeks. 

His movements caused his whole body to rock against her slowly, but he barely paid any mind to the pleasant friction of the soft flesh of her behind against his stiffening shaft. That is, until he felt the young woman purposefully roll her hips in a way that made the sensations way more pronounced. Aesop stilled in his movements, his breathing considerably heavier than it had been a few minutes ago.

"Sweetheart," he said gently, "as much as I’d like to, the last thing I want to do is hurt you more than you're already hurting..." The young woman groaned softly and further wiggled her bottom to the best of her abilities, given the fact Aesop was still partially sitting upon it. "It does not hurt that bad anymore..." she tried to protest, "besides, we can go really slow..."

Aesop couldn't hold back a small chuckle as he stared at his fiancée’s back in awe.

He lowered his upper body until his mouth was right next to her ear, his hands bracing his weight on each side of her head: "Really slow, hm?" he purred, making her shiver slightly. He rocked his hips against her a few times, slowly and passionately. 

"This slow?" he asked, his voice growing lower. (F/N) didn't answer. Aesop then raised himself somewhat, and when he was positive he wouldn't lose his balance and collapse directly onto her, his hands left their previous position and closed around her hips instead, pulling them up from the bed. His own then ground into her, hard and excruciatingly slow, making the woman hyper aware that he was rock hard now: "or even slower, like so?"

She groaned again, her hands that were previously just lying idly by her sides now gripping at the sheets in obvious need. "A-Ace, please... Please, stop teasing, I really want this. I want you... And besides, you know nothing makes sore muscles relax quite as much as some nice lovemaking..." Once again, the professor snickered, even lower than before, still grinding his clothed erection against her. "You Ravenclaws," he said softly, "finding logic in everything... Very well then. But you'll tell me the moment something hurts too much, alright?"

The young woman strained her head, and actually braced her own hands next to her in order to raise herself up slightly and look at him better. She indeed seemed much less miserable than she did when he originally walked in, and instead now looked like a woman starved. 

Oh, how could he ever resist her? Without another word, Aesop once more lowered himself, but this time to connect their mouths in a hot, passionate kiss. 

One of his hands gently wrapped around her throat, neither pushing nor squeezing, simply holding her there, enjoying the feeling of her quickened heartbeat below his fingertips as well as the knowledge of how entirely she trusted him. His hips kept rutting against her more rhythmically now, and it made him release small short hums of desire into their kiss, his tongue cheekily prodding and teasing at her own, only to dart back so that he could gently nip at her lower lip. 

Her own hand stopped pawing at the now rather ruffled sheets around her, and instead moved down to stroke his knee, which was about the only part of him she could reach without too much discomfort. Well, that just wouldn’t do, Aesop decided. But still, he gently ended the kiss, and motioned for his beloved to lower herself down again. Once she did, he covered her body with his own, his chest flush against her warm back, and his lips bestowing butterfly kisses against the nape of her neck and all the way to her ear. 

“Are you completely certain?” he asked once more, but the grin that appeared on her face revealed her mind was quite made up. “Unless you plan to literally bend me in half, or restrain me into some extra ridiculous position, it is my firm belief that I’ll be just fine,” she replied, looking at him through her eyelashes, “but even if you do, I will survive. I took a day off tomorrow - well, not accurate - Ellie made me take the day off. She said I either stay home, or I’d be cleaning undersides of Flobberworms tomorrow, because she’s not letting me get trampled over twice in two days.” 

“Hm, remind me to send her flowers,” Aesop murmured, only just resisting the urge to ask whether his fiancée ever thought about a different occupation. It was a silly thought, of course. She loved her job and was completely brilliant at it, and the last thing Aesop wanted was to limit her in any way, but any man who loved his woman half like Aesop loved (F/N) would have very much preferred knowing his beloved was safe. 

He shook his head. Though there have been, and will undoubtedly be scuffs and scratches, and bruises and pulled muscles, (F/N) was a tough woman. Not two armoured mountain trolls and countless goblins attacking at once were able to put her down when she was just a student, and he doubted one stupid horned horse could do the job now that she was a bit older and much more experienced. 

“Aesop,” she said with a small hint of impatience, but mostly a healthy dose of teasing, “should I feel offended you’ve still got enough blood in your brain to think despite me trying to do my best here to make it all go someplace entirely else?”

Aesop’s quiet laughter rang through the room. His arms pushed until they were tightly nestled under and around her waist, and his face nuzzled into the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent. She too released a little giggle, with Aesop unsure whether it was because of the combined sensation of the small scratch of his beard and the tickle of his hair on her soft skin, or just him showering her with his affections like this.

When she wiggled her bum again, Aesop was reminded of his desire, and found he had not wilted in the slightest during his brief moment of thinking. Carefully, he rolled to the side, ridding her of his weight on her back. No sooner than he’d done so did he move to turn her to face him, and their lips connected in another heated kiss. Thin fingers slipped into his hair, and one of her long legs found its rightful place over his hip. The warm skin of her bare upper body pressed against his own chest, and he was hyper aware of her softness and the gentle curves of her bosom despite the offensive fabric of his own garment separating them still.

As if on cue his fiancée pulled back slightly, her nose still gently bumping into his own. “Like always,” she whispered, and Aesop hungrily drank in the hotness of her breath, “you are wearing way too many clothes, Ace.”

The professor was very nearly ready to grab his wand from the nightstand and wave it in the air to immediately rid them of the remainder of their clothes, but at the same time didn’t for the world want this ever increasing thrum of arousal and anticipation to end. 

The act of lovemaking itself was always lovely; both of them always went above and beyond to ensure their partner reached their peak in the most pleasurable way possible. However, Aesop knew they were also united in their enjoyment of foreplay, in the intimacy of once more, like so many times before, succumbing to one another’s embrace, to their most natural form, the sweetness of the other’s lips, and then finally the joy of their bodies uniting into one.

And so, quite unhurriedly, he looked deep into his beloved's eyes and pulled at his tie until it slipped from its knot and came loosely off. The single look was entirely enough to get her to understand, and she too wasn’t entirely urgent when her fingers left his hair in order to pluck his waistcoat buttons free from their holes. 

Still, their clothes soon littered the floor of their bedroom, and the two of them were left in just their drawers. A low moan was released against the young woman’s tongue as her slight hand closed around the stiff member that was tenting Aesop’s underwear, and she gave him a few gentle strokes through the thin fabric. Her mouth watered at the feel of him, the organ hot and heavy in her hand and throbbing under her attention.

However, after she pulled a few more pleasurable sighs out of him, Aesop decided that two could play that game. 

And so he let his mouth slide down slowly, kissing and biting at her neck, her pulse point and collarbones, soothing each of the harder nips with gentle licks of his tongue, his hand kneading the flesh of her pert buttocks appreciatively. And then, finally, when his lips reached her left nipple, his hand dipped in below the hem of her drawers, squeezed the soft bum, then made its way to the other side, long fingers sneaking their way towards her damp nether lips.

His beloved sighed, her head dropping to the pillow, and her hand momentarily ceasing its sweet torment of him at the sensation of the work-hardened tips of Aesop’s fingers dragging over her swelling lovebud and seam.

Quite soon however, she recovered enough to copy him. Aesop gasped lightly against the pink areola of her breast when he felt the gentle scratch of her nails drag from his belly button down through the dark hair of his happy trail, her hand soon also plunging into the tight confines of his cotton breeches to begin touching him fully.

The couple gently and unhurriedly fondled one another as much as their current position would allow them, with Aesop worrying at his fiancée’s nipples using his mouth while her free hand tugged at his hair, sending gooseflesh down his neck and back, and little electric sparks into his groin, which continued thrumming under her delicious caresses. He grinned when a particularly mean bite resulted in her hand in his hair tightening to the point of light pain, and she motioned for him to move up again. The professor did so without a word, immediately chasing her mouth in another kiss, less coordinated than the previous ones.

A smug smile spread on his face when they pulled away for breath. How he adored working her up like this - his beloved always seemed to have this detached sort of elegance about her, even after she just sent some wayward group of ruffians packing, twigs in her hair from leaping across the ground and dirt staining her cheeks. There was absolutely nothing detached about her now... Holding her gaze, he pulled his hand free from her drawers and brought it to his lips. His fingers glistened with her arousal visibly, and the professor made a show of slowly pushing each of them into his mouth to suck on them, closing his eyes and humming at her taste like she was a fine meal.

Suddenly, his teeth flashed as an idea popped to his head. The young woman gasped when she was suddenly pushed on her back and pulled lower on the bed, until Aesop was able to move to kneel behind her. His strong hands moved to once more stroke and squeeze at her soft breasts while he looked upside down on her face, his knees on each side of her head. 

“This alright?” he asked quietly, his fingertips teasing at her ribs. She needn’t ask what he had in mind exactly, knowing all too well where a position like this might go. She felt herself dampen further with anticipation. Her hands reached up, and Aesop took them in his, shuffling down a bit to be able to kiss her once more before he began his descent down her body.

This time, he only spent a short while teasing her breasts and teats with his mouth before moving lower, his tongue gliding around the pale skin of her stomach and circling her belly button. Finally he reached the hem of her drawers, and his beloved lifted her bottom off the bed a bit, so that he was able to push them down her legs. The soft fabric bunched just past her knees, and the young woman used one of her feet to take them fully off, clearing the path for Aesop and his increasingly hungrier stare.

The teacher braced himself on one hand next to her left hip, and used the free one to spread her legs further, which made his fiancée shiver at the cool air lapping at her heated skin. Bending his head down, Aesop flashed one more grin at the young woman, before he finally lowered down to bury his head between her milky thighs.

A small groan was forced out of (F/N)’s mouth when his mouth immediately found her swollen clitoris and began sucking at it fervently, his strong arms curling around her limbs to hold them perfectly in place. The very view of him from this angle was maddeningly erotic, and when she turned her head up, she found she was perfectly level with the tent in his pants. There was already a damp little spot forming where his tip was, and the young woman decided that she made him wait long enough.

The large erection bumped her nose as it sprung out from the cottony confines upon her pushing the hem down, and her mouth watered further at his heady musky scent. She turned her head further, until his dark pink glans brushed against her lips, prompting the professor to release a harsh breath against her folds. The young woman giggled even as another wave of arousal rolled through her, and proceeded to toy with the tip using her mouth, suckling on it and rolling it around, prompting more lovely reactions from the professor.

Teasing little licks soon turned into proper pleasure when Aesop began using one of his hands to gently finger his beloved, while still worrying at her lovebud deliciously. The young woman in turn opened her mouth and carefully covered her teeth with her lips before accepting his hard cock inside, slowly bobbing her head up and down and taking him further with each move. Her fingers kneaded and teased at his heavy testicles, occasionally prodding at that one spot behind them that she knew made him see stars when she pressed down on it.

The increased stimuli sent small shivers through the teacher’s strong frame, and he unknowingly began thrusting his hips, shallowly at first, but then increasing in intensity, just like his mouth and hand did on his fiancée’s need. Their groans and gasps were muffled by the other’s skin, free hands were grasping at whichever part they could reach, hips, thighs, bottoms, fingertips leaving little red spots in their wake. The flank of (F/N)’s leg bore the perfect imprint of the potions master’s palm, while the woman herself took a small break from swallowing around the thick prick in her mouth in order to deliver a sharp bite at Aesop’s inner thigh. His strangled ‘Oh, fuck’ spoken against her drenched core was music to her ears.

Aesop adored being marked by her in the throes of passion, be it a bite on his neck, a couple of bruises on his hips where her toned legs squeezed him, or the sweet sting on his back where her fingernails dug into it. 

His tongue thrusted into her opening along with his fingers, while his thumb now rhythmically rubbed nonsensical patterns against her little pink pearl. Aesop felt his release approaching rapidly under her incredibly intoxicating touch, but refused to let himself succumb to the sweet pull of no doubt brilliant orgasm before she tumbled down that ravine herself. And so, using the very few bits of self control he had left, he lifted his hips up and his member out of her brilliant mouth.

Now, the young woman tried to protest at first, her arms wrapping around his hips in an attempt to pull him back, but a small strategic bite at her folds coupled with a prod of his fingers to the little bundle of nerves deep within her made her arms lose their strength, and her back to arch against the mattress. He sped up his ministrations further, moaning quietly at the feeling of her climax approaching and at the sounds that now poured out of her mouth freely. He couldn’t see her currently, but he imagined her hands fisting the sheets below and her face twisting in pleasure.

Finally, with a cry she came undone underneath him, Aesop hungrily lapping up everything that she could give him. As she writhed with the sensations, one of her hands made its way to his hair, and she closed it around a few strands, not exactly pulling, but rather just hanging on while her orgasm shook through her. Aesop slowly rose when a little whine told him she needed a break from his continuous worship, and he wasted no time, kneeling back on the bed and pulling her somewhat into his hold until he was able to close his arms around her waist. He bent his head to kiss a trail from her neck to her jaw, and then finally to her lips. 

He couldn't help but smile at the image of her red face, the sweat running down her forehead, and the blissed out expression when he pulled back from the positively filthy kiss.

“I hope that was to your liking?” he asked cheekily, his forefinger taking to drawing little patterns over her front, connecting the various freckles and moles on her chest and stomach. (F/N) snorted unabashedly, her breathing still laboured. “As you can clearly see, I hated it,” she quipped right back, her own hand coming to lay hotly on his thigh. She turned her head a little in a clear invitation for him to kiss her again, and Aesop didn't have to be asked twice.

After a few more minutes of exchanging languid kisses, she separated their mouths and whispered: “Although I am cross with you - while you made me finish, you didn’t let me finish.” 

She looked awfully proud at the choice of her words, but Aesop merely chuckled: “And would you like me to let you finish, or shall I take you and we can make each other finish together?” An adorable pout of mock consideration appeared on her face and her eyes closed as she still rode on the gentle waves of afterglow. 

Finally, her eyes sought out his own: “I say - why not both? Like I said, I’ve got a free day tomorrow. And, if I’m not wrong, your first class is at eleven o’clock, so that gives us plenty of time to have a little rest before you can go again, after that a nice bath, a bite to eat, and plenty of sleep still.” 

Aesop shook his head slightly as another chuckle rolled through him. Still, he reached to gently caress her heated cheek, looking down at her with endless affection: “And you tell me I’m incorrigible, you little minx.” His beloved returned his smile: “Oh, you are. But I never claimed not to be incorrigible myself, did I?”

Aesop’s eyes shone with happiness and love as he watched the face he grew to adore so much, her cheeks still flushed and a few strands of her hair sticking to her forehead. The professor used his finger to push them to the side. The young woman used her hands to brace herself somewhat, and turned to steal another kiss. Truth be told, the angle was a bit awkward, but she was determined to make it work. 

Aesop suddenly groaned into their kiss, his hand closing tighter where it was squeezing her hip, and he gave a shaky breath. 

As she turned, his sweetheart once more took hold of his leaking cock, tugging at it rhythmically and driving him to his brink steadily. Knowing what she wanted, Aesop helped move her down on the bed again, his knees spreading wider where he was kneeling, and her head immediately arching back. She was smiling even as she observed him from her upside down angle, and licked her lips when his throbbing shaft appeared inches away from her face.

Aesop was breathing hard as he stroked himself a few times to take the edge off, and watched with a rapturous expression as she accepted him rubbing the glans across her swollen lips after a clear droplet of precum seeped out. 

Without further ado, he used his finger to motion for her to open up, and once she did, he pushed the hard member into her waiting mouth again. A hum from her and a groan from him cut through the silence of the room as she enveloped him in her hot, wet heat, her cheeks hollowing out when she started to suck.

Aesop was mindful at first, his hips moving slowly and shallowly, despite his sweetheart not showing any sort of discomfort with having her mouth and throat plundered by him. Still, even though she became quite… experienced in this act since they were first intimate together, he always started off carefully - not that he ever tried himself, but he imagined having something so large in one’s mouth must be a bit difficult.

However, it would appear the young woman didn’t appreciate his carefulness all that much, for she slowly pulled her mouth off of him. “I won’t break, you know. Neither will I choke or bite your family jewel off.” she said with a challenging little grin. Aesop couldn’t help but smile right back at her. “I know,” he said quietly, “but just… just let me know if it gets too much, alright? Maybe, I don’t know, slap my thigh three times.”

She only rolled her eyes at him with another grin, before positioning herself to take him in her mouth again.

This time both of the potions master’s hands found her cheeks and jaw, and carefully closed around them. With a sharp thrust, his entire length disappeared in her mouth, and a quiet curse left his own. After a few more movements of his hips, he found a rhythm, quite faster than the one before.

He used his hold of her head to keep her in place while he fucked her throat, the the young woman’s little gasps and groans making sweet vibrations go through his shaft, and were soon making him lose himself. He watched with endless fascination as the skin of her throat grew slightly more taut each time he pushed himself deep inside, as little drizzles of drool soon began to leave her lips where they were closed around the thick organ, and how she rubbed her thighs against each other in an attempt to bring herself some friction.

He spread his legs even wider, his breathing hard and laboured, and his hold on her head increasing along with the speed of his movements. 

His eyes closed momentarily as he was getting overwhelmed at the feeling, and nearing ever closer to that sweet release. The suction of her mouth, of the way her tongue lapped at him as best as it could given the position, the jolt of pleasure every time she swallowed around him, his tightening bollocks slapping against her face with every thrust, oh, Aesop knew was going to come hard.

It was quickly becoming too much. The professor’s member was now constantly weeping out in his fiancée’s throat, the coil in his stomach was becoming tighter, burning hot and bright like iron in a forge, his breathing came out in short bursts, and a litany of blissful sounds was leaving his mouth. His brain finally gave out, and he barely noticed his own hands leaving her face. Still, she stayed in her place, her own hands reaching up to grab at his hips, her fingernails digging into the flesh there as she hung on. 

One of the teacher’s hands closed around her breast, kneading it roughly, while the other carefully covered her throat. He could almost feel it where he fucked her, he imagined he could feel his cock stretching her neck, her Adam’s apple bouncing each time she swallowed around him. 

“Hnng, b-bloody hell, (F/N),” Aesop managed to grit out before another groan left his lips, and his eyes rolled back, “Bloody hell, I’m so close. I’m so close, sweetheart…”

His hips began staggering, and the teacher felt the build up of sensation spreading through his entire body. His muscles were tensing up, and his cock was throbbing desperately. The fingers on his hips dug in deeper, the sting of the fingernails doing nothing but pushing him further, further towards that edge. He rutted into her incredible mouth, his own dry and open, sounds of pleasure falling out freely. 

“Oh, Merlin, I’m coming. Oh! Mhm!” Aesop’s eyes rolled back into his head, and he bit his lower lip harshly when the coil in his lower belly snapped, and the pleasure exploded within him. His prick emptied into her throat in long spurts, and soon his body started trembling slightly under the immense gratification. He then sat back quickly and pulled himself out of her mouth, so that the last two ropes of pearly white cum landed on her dark pink lips and spit-damp chin.

Aesop fell down on his arse, nearly collapsing right into the pillows behind him, breathing hard. The young woman before him was in a fairly similar state to him. He heard her swallow a few times, her own breathing quick and laboured. The professor used the last bits of his strength to lie down on the bed next to her. His heart still beat louder and faster than a wardrum, and his hands were still shaking a little.

Turning his head, he saw his sweetheart’s eyes were closed, her face relaxed, and her lips spread into a content smile. The product of his pleasure still clung to her skin, and Aesop found the sight incredibly erotic, his just spent shaft twitching ever so slightly with residue arousal. He turned on his side to face her, and threw one arm and leg over her heated form in as much of an embrace as he was able to execute at the moment.

They spent several minutes like this, bodies slowly calming and cooling down, heartbeats returning to normal, brains regaining control of their higher functions once more. Finally, Aesop summoned a cool wet cloth using his hand, once he actually felt all of his fingers again. He propped his head up on his other hand, and gently got his fiancée’s attention by pressing a small kiss against her cheek. 

Her eyes opened, and the look she fixed him with was enough to make his heart quicken up again. 

He never quite got used to the way she looked at him after they just indulged in the pleasure of each other’s arms, no matter how they went about it. Her gaze was open and sincere, filled with trust, and with so much love and happiness. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to it.

Aesop never truly realised that his own expression was the perfect mirror of hers.

The teacher brought the hand holding the cloth up, and gently dabbed at the drying seed on her lip and chin, prompting her smile to widen further. “I like it when you do that,” she whispered, as if worried she could ruin the atmosphere that settled between them had she spoken any louder. “Do what?” Aesop spoke, just as quietly, a sly little grin on his face “clean up my mess?” 

There was a mischievous sparkle to her eyes. “Actually, I like it when you create it… You’re always such a perfect gentleman, but I know it drives you crazy to mark me like this. Drives me crazy too, when you lose control like that…” she admitted to him, her smile still present.

“Well,” the professor chuckled, tossing the cloth away after his young sweetheart’s face was, save for some perspiration, once again pristine, “I can hardly deny it, can I…” He chased her lips in a kiss, finally embracing her fully, carefully climbing to lie atop her again. His hand caressed her cheek, and Aesop checked her gaze for any sort of discomfort. He was relieved to find none.

“Aren’t you tired?” he asked still, “Are you sure you’ll be alright for a second round?” Her pearly white teeth flashed in the afternoon light of their bedroom, and her eyes once again took on that slightly mischievous look: “Oh, I’ll be up for round two the moment you are up for it.” 

Aesop chuckled at her words, his hands moving down to teasingly squeeze at her waist, their bodies flush against each other. He happily settled where he was, his face buried into the crook of her neck, her hands gently brushing through his hair and separating the tangles that formed there during their activity. “Mhmm…” he murmured, his voice low. He again reminded the young woman of a severely overgrown purring cat, “give me a while. Don’t forget I’m no spring chicken.” His words were met with another chuckle, and one of the hands slipped away from his hair to stroke his cheek instead.

“You know,” she said airily, an amused expression in her twinkling eyes, “for you being, by your own words, ‘no spring chicken’, you’ve got enough stamina for at least two or three spring chickens…” Aesop wasn’t able to hold back a snort at her words, and squeezed her again. Slowly, he raised himself up to be able to look at her, once more propping his head on his hand.

He might not ever get fully used to seeing that look of hers, but he got so very used to everything else. To their closeness, both physical and emotional, to their tender banter, their own little inside jokes. And to the two of them seeing the other completely utterly dishevelled like they were now, naked and sweaty with messy hair, and it feeling so natural, so familiar and comfortable. And yet he couldn’t stop being so fascinated, so absolutely taken with the sight of her every day.

He shook his head with a smile.

“You know, we Aurors have something of a… reputation in this regard,” he offered, still grinning. That prompted a curious gleam to her eyes, even though they were currently softened by tenderness. “Oh? And it applies to the former Aurors as well?” Aesop’s other hand gently slid down her body, caressing her wherever he could reach. “If they keep themselves in shape, surely. And I’d been staying in shape for a while now… However, some Aurors tend to get a little… sloppy…” The young woman sucked in a breath when his hand squeezed between their bodies, his fingers teasing at her inner thigh, “wild… Which can be pleasant, certainly… However,” he continued, his fingers getting closer to their prize, “I hear that when combined with precision… the sort of precision potioneers, for example, have…”

Her eyes fluttered when he reached her core, once more dampening under his skillful touch, “I hear it can get even better…”

And with that, his mouth latched onto hers in another searing kiss.

His hand began to move at the same pace as his mouth and tongue, slow but intense, rekindling in her the fire he already made explode once today while his own body recovered. 

Indeed, his precision and attention to detail was something the young woman appreciated deeply. He knew exactly how to touch her when he wanted her to come apart in his hands within mere minutes, thighs shaking and lungs sore from moans. Or he could slowly break her apart, piece by piece, coaxing little whimpers out of her while her fingernails broke the skin of his back. He could edge her until she begged him to let her come, and he could make those silky soft walls flutter and contract around him near continuously, the poor girl struggling to stay conscious once he was finally done with her.

As he very gently fondled her lovebud and opening, his mouth moving to her neck instead, the professor considered how he should bring his fiancée to the breaking point tonight. Finally, he decided that, seeing as he didn’t want to add to her soreness, and that they still had a few things to do before they ultimately retired to the sheets to sleep, he would go easier on her today. Not that going easier ever meant worse, of course. 

And so, Aesop carefully moved down to once again lie beside her, and then helped her turn so that her back was flush with his chest. Slowly the couple fitted against each other until they were comfortable and Aesop had access to tease his beloved some more before he could fully take her. His other arm became her makeshift pillow, and the girl wasted no time, turning her head to seek his lips. 

Several ardent kisses and hot sighs against his mouth later, as Aesop’s fingers explored her plush depths as if it were their first time again, he felt his shaft stir and slowly begin to fill up once more. The heady feeling of desire seeped into his core again, and made him too release a shaky breath against his beloved’s swollen lips. He savoured the feeling of her hand once more messing up his hair, quite addicted to the sensation. As their kiss drew to a close, Aesop instead dragged his nose against her cheeks and jaw, and her fingers disentangled from his hair, her palm going to stroke a line over his waist and hip, and even strayed to caress his buttock, a little smile appearing on (F/N)’s face.

“Stamina and precision, indeed,” she teased, opening her eyes momentarily to look at him. Aesop replied by curling his fingers within her and prodding at the bundle of nerves deep inside, making her throw her head back against his shoulder. A low chuckle left the professor’s lips, and he ground his hips against hers, his stiffening prick bumping against her bum. “When there’s a good motivation,” he purred into her ear, then started nibbling on the sensitive skin below, spreading his fingers inside her in preparation. It wasn’t as needed these days, but Aesop still preferred to take his time rather than risk accidentally hurting her.

When she once more threw her head back and moaned loudly, Aesop chuckled further, and finally pulled his fingers away and licked them clean. He then noiselessly positioned himself at her entrance, and sought out her gaze. The professor looked deep into his beloved’s eyes as he took hold of her hand, bringing it close to his face. “The best motivation there is,” he whispered.

The ring, that once belonged to his grandmother, sparkled and shone on (F/N)’s elegant hand, the physical proof that she gave him her yes. Still looking into her eyes, Aesop slowly brought her hand even closer, until he was able to press a kiss against her ring finger, right above the ring itself. His hips snapped forward, and he filled the young woman to the brim in a single deep thrust, forcing their shared gaze to separate as their eyes fluttered.

He remained unmoving for several seconds, enjoying the feeling of being once more completely sheathed within her, the warm depths enveloping him perfectly. His fiancée breathed slowly, adjusting to his length inside. Aesop's head leaned forward again, and he hid his face into the crook of her neck, her hand still clasped tightly in his. He rocked his hips shallowly several times, looking for an angle that brought the most pleasure to both of them while the young woman hummed happily, her own head coming to rest upon his arm.

They set a slow, unhurried rhythm at first, (F/N) answering Aesop's slow deep thrusts by rolling her hips in time. His mouth began administering small kisses and gentle bites to the warm skin of her neck, his own cheeks feeling hot as he made love to his beloved.

He had to put some effort into raising himself up when her arm curled around his shoulders and neck, but he managed. Their eyes connected once more, and Aesop was again absolutely in awe of her.

She truly looked ethereally beautiful like this, hair messy and face hot, eyes dilated and so sincere. And while months separated them from their wedding, from the day when they would unite officially, bind themselves to one another, as Aesop's gaze melted into her own, he once more realised something he had known for a few years now.

She was his. And he was hers.

“Kiss me,” she whispered, and how could the professor ever refuse her.

His mouth moulded against her own, sweetly, ardently. (F/N) hungrily drank from his lips, tongue lapping at their seam and seeking out his own tongue to engage it in a sensual dance, one into which Aesop readily gave in. His hips snapped suddenly, prompting a gasp from his sweetheart, one that let him take control of their kiss, and he began plundering her mouth in earnest, the rhythm of his hips increasing in speed.

After a while, neither were able to keep up with the kiss much, their breaths becoming shorter and more laboured, their heartbeats growing swifter, their mouths moving against the other’s with little coordination. Aesop shifted, letting go of her hand in order to take hold of her leg, moving it a little forward for easier access, wanting to penetrate her even deeper. His fingers then closed around her hip, and he used the leverage to deliver harder, more intense thrusts. Soon, he was rewarded for his efforts when the young woman went taut against him again, a choked gasp on her kiss-swollen lips, her breath hot on Aesop’s own.

She too moved, removing her arm from around his shoulders and twisting her upper body so that she was lying on her back a bit more and didn’t have to turn her head quite as much to be able to face him. Aesop seized the opportunity to administer another messy kiss to her mouth, while the arm below her head bent at the elbow and his hand closed around her breast again, gently squeezing the soft flesh.

“Oh, Aesop…” she whined breathlessly when he ended the kiss only to lick a long stripe starting at her neck, going over her chin, only for his tongue to shortly plunge back into her mouth in a display of pure, intoxicating decadence. 

Soon the room filled with the sounds of their fervent lovemaking, soft sighs and gasps turning into short moans, their bodies, damp from their efforts, sliding against each other sweetly and with practised ease. Aesop’s mouth began to worry at her jaw and neck, and moved even lower. His own groans of bliss were muffled by her soft skin, the vibrations seemingly travelling directly to her core and making her fall apart in his strong arms. 

After a particularly hard thrust in that one perfect angle, one that made her entire body give a shudder, the young woman felt the burning coil of an upcoming release materialise in her core out of nowhere, her head falling back onto the pillows and Aesop’s bicep. The potions master, who had been nibbling on her collarbone, planting small marks and bruises along its length, chuckled, which prompted another wave of pleasurable vibrations to run through her, setting her nerve endings ablaze and pushing her further toward that edge.

He could feel her peak approaching, her breathing becoming uneven, her thighs beginning to tremble as he continued moving at the same angle as before. He wasn’t far behind by any means, but felt confident that he’d be able to hold off until he brought her her pleasure. That is, until she cried out for him and squeezed him within her in a vice grip following a particularly hard bite to her neck and a pinch of his fingers to her teat: “Ace! Aesop, p-please, don’t s-stop!” Her walls were quivering around his leaking prick, her hands grabbing for whichever part of him they could reach. Her sounds were pushing to his own climax much faster than he’d anticipated. He rose a bit, a sense of urgency in his voice as he whispered hotly into her ear.

“I-I’m almost there, sweetheart… Come on, c-come for me, love. ”

“Aesop-!”

Her back arched and her toes curled as the coil within her snapped, as if a bolt of lighting suddenly struck her. Aesop groaned at the feeling of her walls closing so, so bloody tight around him. Her body was quivering under the pleasure he brought her, her chest rose and fell hurriedly as she sucked in mouthfuls of air, and she was so amazingly overwhelmed by the sensations.

He let her ride out her orgasm, his rhythm becoming slow and deep, rutting against that bundle of nerves deep inside her as she still convulsed and contracted around him, her head thrown back. Only when her bliss began to ever so slightly subside did he wrap his arms around her waist, holding her firmly in place, and sped up his movements once more. He truly was not far behind her, he could feel his bollocks drawing up, and the pressure in his lower belly increasing with every move. His mouth was inches away from her ear, so she heard every single sound that fell from his lips as he pounded away into her, the muscles in his legs straining and his cock becoming nearly painfully hard as he chased his own climax.

“Mhmm, f-fuck-” he groaned 

He was certain he was squeezing her too tight now, but she didn’t show a single sign of discomfort, her head still lolling on the mattress, sweet little whines pouring out of her mouth, her velvety depths still pulsating around him, beckoning him to join her in her pleasure. 

Oh, he would.

He tried to hold it, at least for a few seconds, edging himself, but then one, two, three hard thrusts, and he pretty much exploded. 

Aesop moaned, his eyes rolling back into his skull, and his arms squeezing the poor girl even tighter, as his cock spilled inside her in several bursts, his hotness flooding her plush depths completely. His hips kept rocking into hers, as if on their own accord while the professor lost himself in the gratification, his body and head suddenly feeling so heavy, so comfortably tired. 

Finally his movements drew to a close, his head dropped and he remained where he was, breathing hard, completely high on the endorphins flooding his brain.

A long, content sigh was released somewhere next to his head, and a soft hand caressed his cheek. His head was resting partly on her chest, partly on her neck, his arms were still enveloping her tightly, his softening shaft was still nestled inside her. Aesop would’ve gladly stayed just like this, but as his head cleared of the hot, heady fog of lovemaking, he realised that this position wasn’t probably doing anything for her back, and he rolled off next to her.

To his great pleasure, (F/N) immediately turned around and snuggled into him, seeking his warmth and his love.

As they lay together, satisfied and spent, the two lovers took a moment to just close their eyes and rest. 

“Are you alright, my sweet?” Aesop asked, still breathless, only able to open eye for the time being, “I haven’t hurt you any more?” Instead of an answer, what he got was an even fuller armful of his fiancée, one of her hands coming to run through the hair on his chest, damp with sweat. Finally, she spoke: “You worry entirely too much, Ace.”

While a shared bath was still on the schedule before they’d go to sleep, a wandless Scourging charm was used for the time being, just to remove the discomfort of sweat and other bodily fluids drying up on their skin. 

The potions master took comfort in the familiar soft scent of her hair, and his arms, while slightly weakened by the sweet afterglow, still had strength enough to hold his fiancée exactly where she was: Exactly where she belonged. Not that she minded, of course, there was no place on earth as safe and comforting as right there with this man.

However, (F/N) had to admit the difficult and strenuous day followed by the couples’ only slightly less strenuous but just as intense activities left her feeling rather ravenous. So much so that even the picture of something as bland as oat porridge left her nearly salivating.

So, she took a deep breath and gathered all of her strength, and made an honest attempt to wiggle out of the professor’s strong hold. And, of course, he did not budge one bit. Another attempt - fruitless again. Aesop murmured unhappily, obviously less than thrilled about the very prospect of releasing her.

“Not ready to let you go yet,” he confirmed her suspicions. The young woman simply rolled her eyes good-naturedly, her own hands coming to caress at whichever part they could reach. “Come now, Ace,” she reasoned, “neither of us ate. I haven’t since lunch - something I’m quite happy about, since otherwise I surely would've lost whatever I ate in a most unpleasant way - and I doubt you had anything other than tea and biscuits since your own lunch.”

Aesop grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, making his young fiancée chuckle: “What was that, dear?” The professor only wrapped his arms around her tighter: “I said I wasn't hungry.”

As if right on cue, Aesop's stomach gave a very telling and loud growl.

“Liar,” (F/N) said only, a victorious smile playing on her face. Aesop finally loosened up his arms a little, but his hands remained on her hips. He raised his dishevelled head, a lazy grin playing on his lips, one that made his sweetheart want to kiss it right off. 

“You know, we could just summon something and make a meal out of it here,” he made his last attempt, brow raised.

With a huff, (F/N) finally managed to leave his arms, right away missing his warmth but ready to stand her ground. She stood up next to the bed and placed her hands on her hips: “Aesop Theodore Sharp, it's one thing to indulge in a meal in bed every once in a while, but prepare it there too? That's how you get ants, you know.”

Aesop seemed quite unbothered by her voice, seemingly enjoying eyeing up her bare curves too much.

“Now, where are my knickers,” she asked, looking around the room, mostly scanning the floor. The professor meanwhile stretched his tall body upon the bed further, again rather similarly to a content tomcat. “I think I'm lying atop them, actually,” he admitted lazily, making absolutely no attempt to actually roll over a bit and hand her the garment. The young woman couldn't help but shake her head, both exasperated and loving every second of it.

“Well, may I have them back? In return for a light supper?” She tried, but even as she was speaking her question, she knew what the answer was going to be. Still, Aesop made a small effort and had the decency to appear thoughtful for a moment.

“No deal,” he said finally, “However, I will run us the bath in the meantime, and make breakfast to bed for you tomorrow. In a similar state of undress, if you so wish. How's that?”

With a final chuckle and a roll to her eyes, (F/N) turned around and bent over, at the very least picking up Aesop's shirt to cover up while she made their food, ignoring his little wolf whistle. She closed the two bottom buttons of the shirt, still leaving her cleavage quite visible to his hungry gaze. 

“Spoilsport,” he said with a mock-pout, and this time she wasn't able to hold herself back from putting one of her knees on the bed and kissing that silly expression off his face. To Aesop's great displeasure, she soon pulled back and fixed him with a triumphant expression.

“I'll hold you to that bath and breakfast,” she said as she turned away and began walking out of their bedroom.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed the story! You can also check this work and all of my other works over on my AO3. Feedback greatly appreaciated ❤️

[orphicsun]

american kids (e.w headcannons)

pairing: southern butch ellie + fem reader

warnings: 18+ content (use of strap-ons + oral sex + ass slapping), mentions of guns since it's a southern au and all, southern dialect/accent noticeable, use of the term 'daddy' (i think ellie is the type of butch to love the name).

☼ southern butch ellie who wears a pair of joel's hand-me-down jeans while she works. sweat drippin' down her forehead, hair tied back messily to keep it out of her face. plenty of pit stains on her wife pleasers and she still looks irresistible.

☼ southern butch ellie who plows through endless fields in her tractor (and you)

☼ southern butch ellie who isn't too picky about her meals. you'll approach her lounging form, practically glued to the recliner, and tap her tanned shoulder with a plate of mississippi mud roast.

"ain't you just so sweet?" she'd tease, tugging your waist to sit on the side of the chair. when you (reluctantly) managed to pull away to clean the crock pot, you'd feel her roughened hand give your ass a little shameless smack, and if you paid closer attention, you could hear the snicker erupt from her throat.

☼ southern butch ellie who loves being called daddy in the privacy of your farmhouse' master bedroom.

in reverse cowgirl, her hands keep a firm grip over the curve of your hips. you rock your hips back and forth, whining incoherent shit she can't make anything of. you jump and look back at her when her hand comes down on your ass, a sharp spank leaving a red handprint on it. "you gonna be nice for daddy and ride her cock, quit mumblin'?" she chides. your whimper sends 1500 watts straight to her bush-hidden pussy. without further notice, you're flipped underneath her, and the harness around her waist is being ripped off so she can shut you up with her pussy on your face.

☼ southern butch ellie with plenty of ink. the single name "shimmer," her first horse, on the back of her shoulder. letters capital and thin. then, an assortment of random tattoos you wouldn't expect someone in the bible belt to have. not that ellie follows any bible, but it's surprising to see. her arms stay mainly clean, freckles on her shoulders and faded down her arms unobstructed, but she swears one day she will get your name on the inside of her wrist.

"see that vein right there, babe? right below 'er. perfect place for your name, don't cha think?"

☼ southern butch ellie who seems rough on the outside, but is the true definition of a sweetheart. you live in a trailer park? she grew up in one, doesn't judge. though that is all too common in the south, some folks still judge. she will never understand it. adding onto this, she ordinates between little and big spoon. some nights, she loves being held and squeezed to sleep. the nights when she has no plans of actually sleeping, she likes sneaking behind you and rubbing her thick belt buckle against your ass.

☼ southern butch ellie who is awkward with kids to the point it melts your heart. she can hardly speak to them, just nodding along and trying to keep up with their jumbling words. give her a couple hours with the kids, and you'll find her playing crack the egg on a trampoline with them.

☼ southern butch ellie who hunts with a rifle in the backwoods. she'll come home with a couple rabbits or a deer if she is so lucky. keeps the rifle stored away safely, but sometimes her mind drifts to your safety. if anyone even so much as thought about trying to harm you on her property? rifle is going to be used for more than forest critter.

☼ southern butch ellie who loves getting a strap blowjob, whatever you wanna call it. she gets asked all the time why lesbians use strap-ons if they don't like cock—this is why. the way the tan plastic shines neatly with your saliva. the way she can last longer than any guy getting a blowjob, fucking your throat for as long as she so pleases, knowing you love gagging for her dick.

☼ southern butch ellie who fucks you in the bed of her '97 pick-up truck, a few blankets underneath you. she'll have you in missionary with your legs wrapped around her hips, and she handles you so easily. she doesn't sputter like a man. she fucks you hard and deep, encouraging you to dig your nails into her back. she doesn't stop until she knows you're worn out.

☼ southern butch ellie who loves a good home-cooked meal from you, but knows how to whip up some bomb ass breakfast herself. hashbrowns and sunny-side up eggs, a few strip of bacon or sausage links on the side for you when you rise. since she always wakes earlier than you, she has the advantage of being able to cook for you before you are able to fuss about her morning chores and how you should be the one to cook.

☼ southern butch ellie who hates overall traffic and chaos in the city, but will drive through an interstate to one in november for every major holiday. she isn't the richest person, but likes picking up overtime to get you that specific teacup set you saw in a flea market or a lacy pair of victoria's secret panties in the mall that she catches you staring at weeks prior.

☼ southern butch ellie who makes a mixtape for the nights the two of you drink beer on the hood of her truck and roll a couple joints. and yeah, it's the classics of the south. george strait, the charlie daniels band, dolly parton, johnny cash, shania twain, willie nelson, etc. she throws in some soft older love songs like coney island baby, somethin' stupid, i will always love you, dedicated to the one i love, forever, be my baby, and tonight will you belong to me.

taglist: @ferxanda, @vahnilla, @witzs, @frillynpinkprincess, @plasticl0v3r, @meow4510, @eriiwaii, @g4ys0n, @mitskimisfit, @ruelezz, @bewareofmyglock. want to be tagged? click here

[pucksandpower]

To Build a Home

Max Verstappen x wife!Reader x Charles Leclerc

Summary: after you and your husbands are left heartbroken by news that seemingly put an end to your dreams of a family, the three of you are drawn to two young orphaned siblings who need you as much as you need them

Warnings: struggles with infertility

Based on this request

The fertility specialist’s office smells sterile, like antiseptic and plastic. You’ve been staring at the same drab poster of the reproductive system for what feels like hours. A part of you wonders if it's designed to be boring, as if anything too colorful would be inappropriate in a place like this.

Max sits beside you, one hand on your knee, thumb absentmindedly tracing small circles through the fabric of your jeans. Charles is on your other side, leaning forward, elbows resting on his thighs, his fingers interlaced so tightly they’re almost white.

The doctor walks in, clipboard in hand, a practiced neutral expression on his face. You try to read him, but there’s nothing to read. He’s done this a thousand times.

“Thank you for your patience,” he says, sitting across from you. He glances at the three of you, clearly used to couples but perhaps not quite this combination. He doesn’t falter, though. “I have the results of your tests.”

You hold your breath. Max’s hand tightens on your knee. Charles doesn’t move.

The doctor takes a moment, flipping a page on the clipboard. “We’ve reviewed all of the tests extensively. There is no male factor infertility present. Both of you” — he nods toward Max and Charles — “have excellent sperm count and motility. No concerns there.”

Your heart beats so loudly you wonder if the others can hear it.

He looks at you. It feels like an eternity passes before he speaks again. “For you, we found a condition called primary ovarian insufficiency. It means that your ovaries are no longer functioning normally before the age of 40. In your case, this means lower egg production, and unfortunately, a significantly decreased chance of natural conception.”

You feel like you’ve been punched in the stomach. Max’s hand turns ice-cold against your skin. Charles shifts beside you, inhaling a sharp breath that cuts through the sterile silence of the room.

“So … what does that mean?” You ask, and your voice sounds so small you barely recognize it.

“It means,” the doctor says gently, “that it’s very unlikely you’ll be able to conceive naturally. There are treatments that might help, but with this diagnosis, the odds are lower than average.”

“Lower than average,” Charles repeats, voice tight, almost robotic. He’s staring at the floor. You know that look — it’s the look he gets when he’s trying not to fall apart.

Max clears his throat. “What are the options?” He’s speaking through clenched teeth, and it’s impossible to tell if it’s anger or fear or both. Maybe both.

“IVF is one option,” the doctor says, unperturbed. “But with primary ovarian insufficiency, egg quality and quantity are concerns. You might consider using donor eggs or exploring surrogacy or adoption.”

Donor eggs. Surrogacy. Adoption. Each word feels like another blow, another layer of guilt and inadequacy. Your throat tightens, and tears prick your eyes. You try to swallow them back, but one escapes, sliding down your cheek.

“I’m so sorry,” the doctor says, and it’s genuine, but it doesn’t help. “I’ll give you some time.”

He stands and exits the room, leaving the three of you in a suffocating silence. You don’t move. You can’t. Your hands are trembling in your lap.

“It’s my fault,” you whisper. It’s barely a sound, but they hear it. Of course they hear it.

Max turns to you immediately. “No. No, don’t say that.”

“It is.” You turn to look at him, tears blurring your vision. “You and Charles … you’re fine. You’re perfect. It’s me. I’m broken.”

“You’re not broken,” Charles says, voice cracking. He’s leaning toward you now, eyes desperate. “Don’t say that about yourself.”

“But it’s true.” You pull away, needing the distance. “I’m the reason we can’t have kids. The big family you both wanted … it’s because of me.”

“Hey.” Max’s hand moves to cup your cheek, turning your face to meet his. His blue eyes are so intense, so full of pain and love it almost shatters you. “We will have a big family. It might not be the way we planned, but we’ll get there.”

You shake your head. “But it won’t be the same. It won’t be-”

“It doesn’t matter how we get there,” Charles interrupts, his voice firmer now. “You think it makes a difference to me if our children come from your body or someone else’s? They’ll still be ours. They’ll still be loved. You’ll still be their mother.”

You look down, unable to hold his gaze. “It’s not fair to you two. You deserve someone who can-”

“Stop.” Max’s voice is low, dangerous in a way that makes you pause. “Don’t ever say that again. We love you. We chose you. We would choose you again in every lifetime.”

Tears are streaming down your face now. You can’t stop them. Charles takes your hand, threading his fingers through yours. His grip is tight, unbreakable. “We didn’t marry you just to have kids,” he says quietly. “We married you because we love you. This doesn’t change that.”

“But it changes everything,” you insist, frustration and heartbreak mingling into a mess you can’t untangle.

“No, it doesn’t,” Max says, leaning forward until his forehead touches yours. “It just means we have to find a different way. And we will. We’ll figure it out.”

You close your eyes, letting his words wash over you. “I’m scared.”

“We are too,” Charles admits, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. “But we’ll face it. Together. Like Max said.”

Silence settles in again, but this time it’s different. Less suffocating. More like a fragile, tentative peace. Max wipes a tear from your cheek with his thumb, and Charles leans in to press a soft kiss against your temple.

You exhale shakily. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” Max says, and there’s a small, almost broken smile on his lips. “We’ve got this. We’ve got you.”

Charles nods, and his eyes are filled with so much hope it’s almost unbearable. “No matter what, we’ll have our family. One way or another.”

You nod, not because you believe it yet, but because they do. And maybe that’s enough, at least for now.

***

The orphanage is a charming old building tucked into one of Monaco’s quieter streets, its stone façade softened by ivy and strings of twinkling Christmas lights. The sound of children’s laughter spills out onto the sidewalk, where a handful of staff is arranging a small Christmas display. It smells like pine needles and freshly baked cookies, and you think it’s the kind of place that tries its hardest to be warm, even when life isn’t.

You tug your scarf tighter against the chill, glancing at Max and Charles. Max is holding a large bag of wrapped presents, the bright paper peeking out through the opening. Charles, as always, has a warm smile ready for anyone who passes by.

“I think this is going to be fun,” Charles says, glancing at you. “I mean, how often do kids get to meet Santa and two F1 drivers in the same day?”

“Santa’s still the headliner here,” you tease.

Max smirks. “I don’t know. I’ve seen Charles in a Santa hat. It’s a close call.”

Charles rolls his eyes, but there’s no hiding his amusement. He looks down at the bag of presents you’re carrying. “You ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The three of you step inside, greeted almost immediately by the matron, a kind-faced woman named Madame Ricard. She clasps her hands together in delight when she sees the three of you, her warm energy a perfect match for the festive setting.

“Oh, this is such a treat for the children,” she says, her French accent thick but easy to understand. “They’ve been talking about it all week. Come, come, let me show you the way.”

You follow her into a large common room, where a group of children is gathered around a tree that looks like it was decorated by a dozen tiny hands. Tinsel hangs in uneven loops, and ornaments are clustered in some places and sparse in others. It’s perfect.

The kids freeze for a moment when they see you, their eyes going wide. Then, as if a switch has been flipped, they erupt into cheers and giggles.

“Charles! Max!” One of the older boys shouts, his voice cracking with excitement.

“Santa!” Another yells, pointing at the man in the red suit who follows close behind you.

Max laughs, setting down the bag of gifts. “I think they’re more excited about you, mate,” he says to Santa, who waves jovially.

You step forward, kneeling to hand out the first few presents. The kids swarm you, but it’s all happy chaos. Max and Charles are instantly surrounded, signing autographs on toy cars and posters that some of the children miraculously seem to have on hand.

As you hand out another gift, your eyes wander to a quieter corner of the room. There, separate from the laughter and commotion, are two small figures.

The older one is a boy, maybe five years old, with a mop of dark hair and a protective posture. He’s standing in front of a little girl who can’t be more than three, his arms spread slightly as if to shield her from the world. Her tiny face is buried in his shirt, her small hands clutching the fabric.

Your heart squeezes.

You tap Charles on the shoulder, nodding toward them. “Who are they?”

Charles follows your gaze, frowning. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen them move at all.”

Madame Ricard notices where you’re looking and sighs softly. “Ah, those two.” She kneels beside you, her expression full of a sadness that doesn’t belong in a place this joyful.

“They’re new,” she explains. “A brother and sister. Their parents died in a car accident a few weeks ago. They were on vacation here in Monaco when it happened.”

You feel your stomach drop. “They don’t have any other family?”

She shakes her head. “No one we’ve been able to find. And to make things more difficult, they don’t speak French, Italian, or English. It’s been hard for them to adjust.”

“They’re completely alone,” Charles murmurs, his voice barely audible.

Max steps forward, his jaw tight. “What language do they speak?”

“We’re not entirely sure,” Madame Ricard admits. “They haven’t spoken much at all. A few words here and there, but we haven’t been able to identify it.”

Max’s brow furrows, and you can see the wheels turning in his head. He glances at you and Charles before stepping closer to the children.

“Hey,” he says softly, kneeling a few feet away from the boy. His Dutch accent is more pronounced when he speaks to children, his tone gentle but firm. “I’m Max. This is Charles and …” He glances back at you. “This is our wife. We just wanted to say hi.”

The boy doesn’t respond. His eyes are wary, darting between Max and the little girl at his side.

Max tries again, switching to Dutch this time. “Kan je me verstaan?”

Still nothing.

He exhales, then tries German. “Verstehst du mich?”

The change is almost instantaneous. The boy’s eyes widen, his grip on the little girl loosening just slightly.

“You speak German?” Max asks, his tone careful but hopeful.

The boy nods, just once, but it’s enough to make Max smile.

“What’s your name?” Max continues in German.

The boy hesitates, glancing down at the girl before answering in a small voice. “Lukas.”

Max’s smile grows. “Hi, Lukas. Is this your sister?”

Lukas nods again, his small hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “Her name is Leni.”

“Hi, Leni,” Max says, his voice impossibly kind. Leni peeks out from behind Lukas, her wide, tear-filled eyes meeting Max’s.

“She’s scared,” Lukas says quietly.

Max’s expression softens. “That’s okay. It’s a scary thing, isn’t it? Being somewhere new.”

Lukas nods, his lip trembling.

Max glances back at you and Charles, switching briefly to English. “They’re German. Lukas and Leni.”

Charles kneels beside him, even though he doesn’t understand the words being spoken. “Can you tell them it’s okay? That they’re safe?”

Max translates, and Lukas looks at Charles, his expression uncertain but a little less guarded.

“Does she like presents?” You ask, holding up a small, brightly wrapped box.

Max repeats the question in German, and Lukas hesitates before nodding.

You crouch down, holding the box out to Leni. “This is for you.”

Lukas whispers something to her in German, and Leni reaches out with a trembling hand to take the gift.

“Go on,” Max encourages. “You can open it.”

Leni looks up at Lukas, who nods, and then she carefully tears into the paper. When she pulls out a soft, plush bear, her eyes light up for the first time. She clutches it to her chest like it’s the most precious thing in the world.

Lukas looks up at Max, his voice barely above a whisper. “Danke.”

Max smiles. “You’re welcome.”

You exchange a glance with Charles, your chest tight with emotion. You didn’t come here to find anyone, to change anyone’s life. But looking at Lukas and Leni, it’s hard not to feel like something’s already shifting.

“They’re so small,” you whisper.

Charles nods, his voice thick. “Too small to be alone.”

Madame Ricard watches the interaction, her expression unreadable. “They’ve been through so much,” she says softly. “But I can already see a difference. You’ve made them feel seen.”

You glance back at Lukas, who’s now sitting cross-legged on the floor with Leni, showing her how to properly hug the bear. Max is still beside them, speaking softly in German, his tone soothing and patient.

Charles leans closer to you, his shoulder brushing yours. “What are you thinking?”

You swallow hard, your throat tight with emotion. “I’m thinking they shouldn’t have to spend Christmas alone.”

Charles doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he watches them, his expression as soft and full of unspoken things as you feel. “Neither should we.”

You’re not sure what he means, but you think you might know.

***

The bedroom is quiet except for the soft hum of the city outside. The three of you are wrapped in the warm cocoon of your shared bed, but it feels different tonight. There’s no teasing banter, no sleepy laughter, no idle conversation about the race calendar or holiday plans. Just silence.

You’re lying between Max and Charles, your head resting against Max’s chest, while Charles holds your hand loosely under the blanket. Normally, you’d be lulled to sleep by the rhythmic sound of Max’s breathing or Charles’ absentminded humming. But tonight, your thoughts are elsewhere.

You can’t stop thinking about Lukas and Leni.

Their little faces flash in your mind over and over again — Lukas’ wary but determined expression, the way his body shielded his sister as if he alone could protect her from the world. Leni’s wide, tear-filled eyes and how tightly she clutched that bear once she finally opened up enough to take it.

You blink against the sting of tears.

“Alright,” Max’s voice cuts through the silence. He doesn’t sound annoyed, just concerned. “What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” You ask, though it’s half-hearted.

“You’ve been quiet all night,” Charles says, his accent softening the words. He shifts slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you. “Lost in thought. We can tell.”

Max’s hand moves to your back, drawing slow, soothing circles. “Talk to us.”

You bite your lip, debating whether to say what’s been swirling in your mind since you left the orphanage. It feels big — too big to articulate. But when you look at Charles’ gentle eyes and feel the steady comfort of Max’s touch, the dam breaks.

“It’s Lukas and Leni,” you say, your voice trembling slightly.

Max stops rubbing your back, his hand stilling as he waits for you to continue.

“I can’t stop thinking about them,” you admit. “The way Lukas was protecting her … the way they’re so alone. They don’t even have anyone who can speak to them in their own language.”

Charles sits up more fully, his brow furrowing. “It’s heartbreaking,” he says quietly, and you can tell he feels it too.

You take a deep breath, trying to organize the mess of emotions inside you. “I don’t know how to explain it, but … it felt like we were meant to find them. Like they were meant to find us.”

Max’s hand moves to your hair, his fingers threading gently through the strands. “What do you mean?”

You hesitate, feeling the weight of what you’re about to say. “I keep thinking about how scared they must be. How lost. And I … I can’t stand the idea of them spending Christmas alone, in a place where no one understands them. It doesn’t feel right.”

The tears you’ve been holding back spill over, and you quickly wipe at your eyes. “I know it sounds crazy. We just met them. But I can’t shake this feeling that … I don’t know. That the five of us were meant to be together.”

Neither of them speaks for a moment, and you immediately regret saying it. “I’m sorry,” you mumble, sitting up and turning your face away. “I don’t even know what I’m saying. It’s just-”

“Hey.” Max’s voice is firm but gentle, and his hand catches yours before you can pull away completely. “Don’t apologize. You’re allowed to feel this way.”

Charles shifts closer, his hand brushing your arm. “I feel it too,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turn to look at him, your tears blurring his face. “You do?”

He nods. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about them either. Lukas especially. The way he looked at us … like he wanted to trust us but didn’t know if he could. I can’t get it out of my head.”

Max exhales heavily, running a hand through his hair. “And Leni,” he says, his voice tight. “She’s just a baby. They’re both so small, and they’ve already been through so much.”

You sniffle, wiping your eyes again. “What are we supposed to do? We can’t just … leave them there.”

Max and Charles share a look over your head, one of those silent conversations they’ve perfected over the years. You’ve seen it before — on race days, in press conferences, during moments of unspoken understanding between them.

Finally, Max speaks. “We’re not leaving them there.”

Your heart skips. “What do you mean?”

Charles takes your hand again, his grip firm and reassuring. “I mean that we’ll go back. First thing tomorrow morning. We’ll talk to Madame Ricard, figure out what we need to do.”

“To adopt them?” You ask, your voice small but filled with hope.

“If that’s what it takes, yes,” Max says without hesitation.

You feel your breath catch, the weight of their words settling over you. “Are you sure?”

“We’re sure,” Charles says. “It’s like you said — it feels right. It feels like they’re meant to be with us.”

Max nods, his expression serious. “We’ve already been talking about starting a family. This … this might be how it’s supposed to happen.”

Your tears start again, but this time they’re different. Lighter. Full of something you haven’t felt in a long time — hope.

“I love you both so much,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

Charles pulls you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you completely. “We love you too,” he says, his voice muffled against your hair.

Max leans in, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We’re going to do this.”

For the first time all night, the silence in the room feels peaceful. The three of you stay like that for a long time, wrapped up in each other, until sleep finally comes.

And when it does, it’s with the quiet certainty that tomorrow will bring something new — something life-changing.

***

The drive to the orphanage feels longer than it did yesterday, even though the streets of Monaco are quiet in the early morning. Max’s hands grip the steering wheel tighter than usual, his knuckles pale against the leather. Charles sits in the passenger seat, his phone resting in his lap, while you’re tucked into the backseat, staring out the window. None of you speak, but the air is heavy with anticipation.

As soon as Max parks, Charles is out of the car, opening your door for you before you even have the chance to unbuckle. Max grabs the bag of gifts you’d brought back in case you see the other children again, though it feels secondary now.

Inside, the orphanage is quieter than yesterday. Only a few children are up, milling around the common room, their laughter softer in the early light. Madame Ricard greets you near the entrance, her warm smile faltering when she sees the determined expressions on your faces.

“You’re back early,” she says, glancing between the three of you.

“We need to talk to you,” Charles says, his tone polite but urgent.

Madame Ricard’s brows knit together, but she nods. “Of course. Come with me.”

She leads you to her small office, its walls lined with books and photographs of smiling children. There’s a wreath hanging in the window, and the desk is cluttered with papers and a half-empty cup of coffee. She gestures for you to sit, but none of you do.

“We want to adopt Lukas and Leni,” Max says without preamble, his Dutch accent more pronounced in his urgency.

Madame Ricard blinks, her surprise evident. “That’s … that’s wonderful, but adoption is not something that can happen overnight. There’s a process — an extensive one. Home studies, background checks, legal clearances. It can take months, sometimes even years.”

You feel your stomach drop, but Charles steps forward, his expression firm. “We understand there are steps, and we’re prepared to take them. But surely there’s something that can be done to expedite the process. They shouldn’t have to wait in limbo if there’s a family ready to take them.”

Madame Ricard sighs, her hands folding neatly on the desk. “I don’t doubt your intentions. You all seem like wonderful people, and I’m sure you would make excellent parents. But the system is in place to protect the children. It’s not something I can simply bypass.”

Charles glances at you, then at Max, before pulling out his phone. He scrolls for a moment, then presses a number and raises it to his ear.

“What are you doing?” You whisper, but he holds up a finger, his focus on the call.

“Bonjour,” Charles says smoothly, switching to French. “I hope I’m not interrupting, Your Serene Highness.”

Your eyes widen, and Max mutters something in Dutch under his breath that you’re certain isn’t polite.

“Yes, it’s Charles,” Charles continues, his voice calm but determined. “I need a favor. It’s urgent.”

Madame Ricard’s mouth falls open slightly, her gaze darting between Charles and the phone. You can barely process what’s happening as Charles explains the situation to the Prince of Monaco, his words measured but impassioned.

When he hangs up, he turns back to Madame Ricard with a small, triumphant smile. “Prince Albert has assured me he’ll do everything in his power to help expedite the process. You’ll be hearing from his office shortly.”

Madame Ricard stares at him for a moment, then laughs softly, shaking her head. “I forgot who I was speaking to for a moment. Well, if the Prince is involved, that does change things. But you’ll still need to go through some initial steps before we can begin the process officially.”

“That’s fine,” Max says, his voice steady. “We’ll do whatever we need to. But can we see them?”

Madame Ricard hesitates, then nods. “Yes, of course. Follow me.”

You walk through the halls in silence, your heart pounding in your chest. When you reach the common room, Lukas and Leni are exactly where you’d seen them yesterday — off to the side, separate from the other children. Lukas is sitting cross-legged on the floor, his arms around Leni, who is curled up against him with the plush bear you gave her.

“They’ve barely moved since this morning,” Madame Ricard says softly.

You exchange a glance with Max and Charles before stepping forward together. Max crouches first, his tall frame folding easily as he kneels a few feet from Lukas.

“Hallo, Lukas,” Max says gently in German. “Do you remember me?”

Lukas’ eyes lift, wary but familiar. He nods, his grip on Leni tightening slightly.

“This is my wife,” Max continues, gesturing to you. “And you remember our husband?”

Lukas nods again, his expression unreadable.

Max glances back at you, and you lower yourself to the floor beside him. Charles follows suit on the other side, forming a small circle around the children without crowding them.

“Lukas,” Max says softly, his tone careful but warm. “I want to ask you something. It’s very important.”

Lukas tilts his head slightly, his curiosity piqued despite his guarded demeanor.

Max takes a deep breath, his eyes locking onto the boy’s. “Would you and Leni like to come home with us?”

For a moment, Lukas doesn’t respond. His brow furrows, and he looks down at Leni, who is clutching her bear tightly, her small face pressed into his side.

“Home?” Lukas echoes, his voice barely above a whisper.

Max nods. “Yes. With us. We want to take care of you and Leni. We want to be your family.”

Lukas’ eyes widen, his grip on Leni loosening just slightly as he processes the words. He looks at you, then at Charles, his gaze searching.

“You want us?” He asks, his voice trembling.

You feel your throat tighten, but you manage to nod. “Yes, we do. More than anything.”

Charles leans forward slightly, his voice soft but firm. “You don’t have to be scared anymore. We’ll take care of you. Both of you.”

Lukas’ lower lip trembles, and he looks down at Leni, who finally peeks out from where she’s been hiding. Her wide, tear-filled eyes meet Max’s, and she whispers something in German that you can’t understand.

“What did she say?” You ask quietly, glancing at Max.

Max’s voice is thick with emotion when he answers. “She asked ‘are you going to be our Mama and Vatis?’”

You feel the tears welling in your eyes, and you don’t bother trying to stop them. “Yes, sweetheart,” you say, your voice trembling. “We are. If you’ll have us.”

Lukas looks at Leni, then back at the three of you. His small shoulders square, and for the first time, his expression softens into something that looks like hope.

“Okay,” he says quietly. “We’ll go with you.”

You reach out cautiously, your hand trembling slightly as you place it gently on Lukas’. He doesn’t pull away.

Charles exhales a shaky breath, his hand coming to rest on Leni’s bear. “We’re going to take care of you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “Both of you.”

Max nods, his jaw tight as he fights to keep his own emotions in check. “You’re not alone anymore. You have us now.”

And for the first time, Lukas smiles — a small, tentative thing, but a smile nonetheless. It feels like the most important thing in the world.

***

One Month Later

The apartment is chaos. Wonderful, heartwarming chaos, but chaos nonetheless.

You can’t remember the last time it was this loud, and that’s saying something considering you’ve lived with two world-class athletes, three cats, and two mischievous dachshunds for years. But the addition of Lukas and Leni has turned the volume — and the energy — up several notches.

“Lukas, no running in the hallway!” You call, stepping over Jimmy, who is sprawled across the kitchen floor, his tail flicking lazily.

“He’s not running!” Max’s voice echoes from the living room. “He’s just … moving very quickly!”

You roll your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips as Leni tugs at the hem of your sweater. She’s clutching a small pile of bath toys in one hand and pointing toward the bathroom with the other.

“Bath time?” You ask gently, crouching to her level.

She nods eagerly, her curls bouncing with the motion.

“Okay, let’s find Lukas and-”

A loud crash interrupts you, followed by Charles shouting something in rapid French that sounds suspiciously like a curse. You turn the corner to find Lukas standing in the middle of the living room, an overturned laundry basket at his feet and Leo gleefully chasing a pair of socks across the floor.

“Lukas,” you sigh, trying to keep the amusement out of your voice.

“It was an accident!” Lukas insists, his hands flying up in a defensive gesture.

Charles appears from behind the couch, his hair slightly disheveled and his expression exasperated but affectionate. “An accident that somehow involved the dog stealing my socks?”

Leo lets out a triumphant bark, the sock still dangling from his mouth, before darting under the coffee table.

Max leans against the doorway, arms crossed and a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I think it’s a team effort,” he says.

You shake your head, trying to stifle a laugh. “Alright, enough chaos. It’s bath time.”

“Bath time?” Lukas groans, his face scrunching up in distaste.

“Yes, bath time,” Charles says firmly, scooping up the laundry basket and tossing the scattered clothes back inside. “You’re covered in dirt from playing outside.”

“And Leni’s ready,” you add, holding up her bath toys as she beams up at you.

“I’m not dirty,” Lukas mutters, crossing his arms.

Max raises an eyebrow. “There’s literally mud on your knees, little man. Let’s go.”

It takes some coaxing, but eventually, everyone makes it to the bathroom. Lukas and Leni sit on the edge of the tub, Leni excitedly dropping her toys into the water while Lukas looks like he’s planning his escape.

“Okay, clothes off,” you say, trying to keep things moving.

Leni complies immediately, but Lukas hesitates, his arms crossing over his chest again.

“It’s just a bath,” Max says, kneeling down to Lukas’ level. “Nothing to be scared of.”

“I’m not scared,” Lukas mumbles, though his voice is quieter now.

Charles crouches next to Max, his tone gentle. “Do you want us to stay with you? Or we can leave the door open if that makes you feel better.”

Lukas glances at Leni, who is happily splashing her toys in the water, then back at Max and Charles. Finally, he nods. “Stay.”

You exchange a relieved look with Max as the two of you help the kids into the tub. The next ten minutes are a whirlwind of water, bubbles, and shrieks of laughter.

“Careful, Leni!” Charles exclaims as she flings a handful of bubbles at him, catching him squarely on the nose.

“Lukas, not the cat!” You yelp as Lukas splashes too enthusiastically and sends a wave of water cascading over the edge of the tub, directly onto Jimmy, who had wandered in to investigate.

Jimmy bolts, his tail puffed up like a bottlebrush, just as Leo decides to join the fray, leaping up to chase the bubbles floating in the air.

In the chaos, Max slips on the wet floor, catching himself on the edge of the sink. “This is a disaster,” he says, laughing as water drips from his hair.

“No, this is parenthood,” you reply, grinning as you wring out the hem of your sweater.

By the time the kids are clean and wrapped in fluffy towels, the bathroom looks like a hurricane hit it. Charles is soaked from head to toe, Max’s socks squelch with every step, and you’re pretty sure you’ll be finding remnants of stray bubbles for days.

But when Leni giggles and tugs on your sleeve, pointing at the three of you with a wide, toothy grin, it feels worth it.

***

That night, the apartment is finally quiet. Lukas and Leni are tucked into their new beds, Leo and Nino curled up at the foot of Lukas’ mattress, while the cats have retreated to their usual perches.

You’re sprawled on the couch between Max and Charles, exhaustion settling into your bones.

“I can’t believe how much energy they have,” you say, your head resting on Max’s shoulder.

“It’s like they’re powered by chaos,” Charles agrees, his arm draped over the back of the couch.

Max chuckles softly, his hand absently playing with the ends of your hair. “Chaos is putting it lightly.”

Despite your exhaustion, a sense of contentment washes over you. Your home feels fuller now — messier, louder, but fuller.

Just as you’re starting to drift off, a soft noise catches your attention. It’s the sound of small footsteps, hesitant and quiet, but unmistakable.

You sit up slightly, and a moment later, Lukas and Leni appear in the doorway, clutching their blankets and looking small and uncertain.

“What’s wrong?” You ask gently, swinging your legs off the couch.

“Nightmare,” Lukas says quietly, his free hand gripping Leni’s tightly.

Your heart clenches, and you’re already on your feet, moving toward them. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Lukas shakes his head, his eyes darting toward Max and Charles.

“Do you want to stay with us for a little while?” Max asks, his voice soft.

Both kids nod, and before you know it, they’re climbing onto the couch. Lukas settles between Max and Charles, while Leni crawls into your lap, clutching her blanket like a lifeline.

Charles pulls the blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it over all of you, his hand resting gently on Lukas’ back. Max leans down to press a kiss to Leni’s hair, his eyes meeting yours over her head.

For a long time, no one speaks. The kids slowly relax, their breathing evening out as they drift back to sleep, cocooned in the warmth of your little family.

“I think they’re starting to trust us,” Charles whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

You nod, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Yeah. I think they are.”

Max tightens his arm around Lukas, his gaze soft. “We’re going to be okay,” he says quietly. “All of us.”

And in that moment, with the kids nestled against you and the warmth of Max and Charles surrounding you, you know he’s right.

***

One Year Later

The sun filters through the trees lining the courtyard of La Maternelle, casting dappled light on the cheerful faces of parents waiting to pick up their children. You stand between Max and Charles, your hands wrapped around a paper bag from the kids’ favorite bakery. Inside, two perfectly iced pastries sit, waiting to be devoured.

“Do you think they liked it?” You ask, glancing at the colorful mural decorating the preschool’s front wall.

Charles, leaning against the railing, grins. “Of course. Lukas was practically vibrating with excitement this morning. And Leni …” His voice softens. “She’ll love anything if Lukas does.”

Max chuckles, crossing his arms as he watches the doors. “Let’s see if they’re still smiling when they come out.”

You nudge him playfully. “Stop worrying. They’ll be fine.”

As if on cue, the large doors open, releasing a flood of tiny, chattering students. Teachers lead them in pairs down the stairs to their waiting parents, and the air fills with the sound of children’s voices, an overlapping mix of French, English, and the occasional giggle.

“There they are!” Charles says, pointing.

Lukas and Leni appear, hand in hand, walking down the steps alongside their teacher. Lukas is gesturing animatedly to a boy beside him, and Leni’s face lights up when she spots the three of you waiting.

“Vati! Papa! Mama!” Lukas shouts, waving so hard his backpack bounces with every step.

Your heart swells as they break into a run, dodging around other parents and children. Leni nearly trips, but Lukas catches her arm and steadies her before continuing their dash.

“Look at them,” Max murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

You crouch down, arms open, and Leni barrels into you, wrapping her little arms around your neck. Lukas follows a second later, colliding into Max and Charles with equal enthusiasm.

“How was it?” You ask, holding Leni close as her curls tickle your cheek.

“It was so good!” Lukas exclaims, switching to German mid-sentence. “We painted, and I made a dog, and the teacher said it was good, and-”

“Wait, slow down,” Max says, laughing. “One at a time.”

Leni tugs on your sleeve, her voice quieter but no less excited. “I made a friend,” she says in French, her big eyes shining.

“You did?” You ask, your chest tightening with pride.

She nods. “Her name is Amélie. She has a pink dress.”

“Amélie is very lucky to have you as a friend,” Charles says, reaching out to smooth her curls.

Lukas jumps in, switching to English this time. “And there’s a boy who likes dinosaurs like me! His name is Leo-”

“Like our Leo?” Max asks, his grin widening.

Lukas laughs, shaking his head. “No, not like the dog!”

The four of you are caught in a swirl of excited recounting — art projects, new words they learned, and the rules of a game they played — when a sharp voice cuts through the happy chaos.

“Well, isn’t this quite the picture?”

You look up to find a woman standing nearby, her arms crossed and a thin smile on her lips. She’s impeccably dressed, her posture stiff as she surveys your little group.

Max tenses immediately, his arm moving instinctively to rest on Lukas’ shoulder. Charles straightens, his expression unreadable but his jaw tight.

“They’re yours, then?” The woman asks, her tone laced with something you can’t quite place.

You rise slowly, still holding Leni’s hand. “Yes, they’re our children.”

The woman’s gaze flicks between Max and Charles, her thin smile sharpening. “Which one of you is their father?”

You feel Max stiffen beside you, but it’s Charles who answers first, his voice calm but firm. “We both are.”

The woman lets out a laugh — short, clipped, and dripping with condescension. “Right. But which one actually is? You know, biologically.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, but you keep your voice steady. “Neither of them is.”

The woman raises a perfectly plucked brow. “Ah, so you’re one of those.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you take a step forward, still holding Leni’s hand. “One of those?” You echo, your voice low and icy.

The woman shrugs, her smile now openly smug. “A whore who managed to get her claws into two wealthy men.”

Max moves before you can even register it, his eyes blazing. “What did you just say?”

“Max,” Charles says sharply, placing a hand on his chest to stop him from advancing. But his own voice is tight, and his hand trembles slightly.

The woman doesn’t back down, her gaze flicking between the three of you like she’s daring you to challenge her.

You step forward, letting go of Leni’s hand to stand your ground. Your voice is cold, clear, and unwavering. “None of us are their biological parents because Lukas and Leni are adopted. But we are their family in every way that matters.”

The woman snorts, waving a dismissive hand. “Adopted. So you’re not actually their parents.”

The dam breaks.

Max’s voice rises first, his Dutch accent sharp as he glares at her. “We love those kids more than you can possibly understand. How dare you suggest otherwise?”

Charles follows, his words laced with steel. “It doesn’t matter if they share our blood. They are ours, and we are theirs. That’s what makes a family.”

You step closer, your voice trembling with controlled fury. “You don’t get to stand here and insult us or our children because you can’t understand what love and family look like.”

The woman opens her mouth to reply, but Lukas beats her to it.

“Let’s go, Mama,” he says loudly, tugging at your hand and looking pointedly at the woman. “She’s not nice.”

You blink down at him, your heart swelling with pride and affection. “You’re absolutely right,” you say, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

Charles bends down to pick up Leni, who has been watching the exchange quietly, her big eyes fixed on you. “Let’s go get a treat,” he says softly, his voice warm again.

As the five of you turn to leave, Lukas pauses. He looks back over his shoulder at the woman, his little face scrunched in determination. Then he sticks out his tongue, the gesture so quick and childish it takes you a moment to register it.

Max bursts out laughing, the sound startlingly loud after the tension of the moment. “That’s my boy,” he says, ruffling Lukas’ hair.

You can’t help but laugh too, the sound bubbling up as you walk away, hand in hand with your family.

“Good job, Lukas,” Charles says with a grin. “But next time, let’s not give her the satisfaction of a reaction, okay?”

Lukas looks up at him, confused. “What’s satisfaction?”

“It means she wanted us to be mad,” you explain, bending down to meet his gaze. “But we don’t have to let her make us feel bad. We know the truth, right?”

Lukas nods slowly, his brow furrowing in thought. “The truth is that we’re a family.”

“That’s exactly right,” Max says, his voice filled with pride.

As you hand Leni her pastry and take Lukas’ hand again, you can’t help but feel a swell of gratitude. For all the challenges, for all the moments like this, you wouldn’t trade your little family for anything in the world.

***

The paddock is alive with its usual pre-race buzz — team members rushing to and from garages, media personnel chatting with drivers, and fans craning for a glimpse of their favorites. You’re seated on a bench near the Red Bull motorhome with Lukas and Leni perched on either side of you, their little legs swinging in excitement. Max and Charles had just been whisked away for team meetings, leaving you in charge of keeping the kids entertained until they returned.

“Can we see the cars now?” Lukas asks, his eyes lighting up as a Red Bull engineer walks by with a shiny front wing. “I want to see the wheels up close.”

“Not yet,” you say, smiling as you ruffle his hair. “Soon, I promise. But first, we’re staying here. Your Vati and Papa will be back before you know it.”

“I want to see the helmets,” Leni adds, holding tightly to the small Ferrari flag Charles had given her earlier. “Are they shiny?”

“They’re very shiny,” you assure her, leaning in conspiratorially. “Maybe we’ll even help your fathers put them on later.”

Before Leni can ask another question, a young woman holding a camera and a phone approaches you hesitantly. “Hi, um, excuse me? You’re … you’re Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc’s wife, right?”

You blink, caught off guard. “I am.”

Her face lights up. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m a TikToker, and I do these short interviews with fans and families at races. Would you be okay with answering a few questions? It won’t take long.”

You glance down at Lukas and Leni. “If it’s quick …”

The TikToker nods eagerly. “Super quick! Thank you so much!”

Max’s mother, Sophie, materializes beside you before you can even turn back to the kids. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on them,” she says warmly. “You go ahead.”

“Are you sure?”

Sophie waves a hand. “Of course. We’ll stay right here.”

Reassured, you follow the TikToker a few steps away, keeping the kids in your line of sight as the camera starts rolling. She asks about life as part of a racing family, what it’s like juggling everything, and even sneaks in a cheeky question about whether you think Max or Charles is faster.

You laugh, answering her questions as best as you can, but your attention keeps flicking back to Lukas and Leni. They’re sitting with Sophie, but a flash of orange catches your eye, and you see someone kneeling in front of them, grinning. Your stomach drops when you realize it’s Lando Norris, holding out what appears to be a chocolate bar.

By the time you wrap up the interview and return to the kids, Lando is gone, and Max and Charles are back from their team duties. The kids are bouncing with excitement, but something seems … off.

“Where did you get that?” Charles asks, pointing to the bright orange cap perched on Lukas’ head.

Max’s jaw drops. “Is that McLaren merch?”

Lukas beams. “Do you like it?” He gestures to his T-shirt, which features McLaren’s logo in bold black and papaya across the front. Leni twirls to show off her matching cap and scarf.

Max puts a hand to his chest, staggering back dramatically. “I can’t believe this. Our own children. Betraying us.”

Charles crosses his arms, giving Lukas an exaggerated glare. “What did we do wrong? Was it something we said? Something we did?”

“I don’t understand,” you say, shaking your head as you crouch to Leni’s level. “How did this happen? We were raising Red Bull and Ferrari fans!”

Leni giggles, her smile wide and bright, but you notice something unusual — a faint smear of chocolate at the corner of her mouth. Frowning, you reach out to wipe it away with your thumb. “What’s this?”

Max’s eyes narrow. “Chocolate? Where did you get chocolate?”

Leni freezes, her eyes going wide like she’s just been caught. Lukas, sensing danger, jumps in quickly. “We didn’t get chocolate. Nope. No chocolate.”

Max raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Because it looks a lot like chocolate.”

Charles kneels down beside Lukas. “Tell the truth, mon petit. Did someone give you candy?”

Lukas shakes his head firmly. “Nope. No candy.”

But Leni, blissfully unaware of her brother’s attempt to cover their tracks, nods enthusiastically. “Lando gave us sooooo much candy!”

You gasp, trying not to laugh. “Lando?”

“Lando!” Leni repeats, still grinning. “He said we have to cheer for McLaren now. He gave us these hats and shirts, too!”

Max stares at her, slack-jawed. “He bribed you? With chocolate?”

Charles leans back, laughing despite himself. “I knew Lando was sneaky, but this …”

Max, however, is not laughing. “Unbelievable,” he mutters, pacing a few steps away before turning back to face the kids. “You betrayed us for candy?”

“It was good candy!” Leni defends, crossing her arms in defiance.

Lukas looks sheepish, pulling at the brim of his cap. “It was a lot of candy …”

Max throws his hands up. “First McLaren merch, now this. What’s next? Mercedes?”

Charles smirks. “Careful, Max. If Toto hears about this, he might send over cupcakes.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I don’t think the kids even know what a bribe is. They were just excited.”

“Exactly!” Leni says, nodding vigorously. “And Lando is nice!”

Max sighs, crouching down to meet Leni’s gaze. “Listen, princess. You can like Lando, but you’re not allowed to switch teams. Okay? Red Bull and Ferrari are the only acceptable teams in this house.”

“And no more taking candy from drivers,” Charles adds, his tone firm but playful. “Especially if it’s Lando.”

Leni pouts. “Not even a little candy?”

“Not even a little,” you say, trying to keep a straight face. “Besides, the caterer made your favorite treats. Remember?”

Their eyes light up, and the McLaren drama is momentarily forgotten as you hand over the brownies. Lukas takes a big bite of his, mumbling a happy “Mmm” through a mouthful of fudge.

Max shakes his head, still looking slightly betrayed. “I’m going to have words with Lando. Bribing our children …”

Charles grins, wrapping an arm around Max’s shoulders. “Think of it this way. At least they didn’t run straight to Mercedes.”

“Yet,” Max mutters, glaring at Lukas’ orange cap.

You laugh, watching as Lukas offers Leni a bite of his dessert. Despite the chaos, the sight of your family — all five of you together, happy and healthy — makes your heart feel full.

***

Ten Years Later

It’s a quiet Sunday afternoon at home, the kind of day that feels rare amidst the usual whirlwind of racing, school, and travel. The living room is bathed in soft sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. You’re curled up on the couch with a book, while Max and Charles are in the kitchen, bickering good-naturedly over who makes the better omelet.

Lukas and Leni are sprawled across the floor nearby, surrounded by textbooks and laptops, pretending to study but clearly more interested in each other’s company. Leni’s hair is tied back in a loose ponytail, her feet propped up on a throw pillow, while Lukas is lying on his stomach, tapping a pen against his notebook.

“Do you think,” Leni begins, breaking the silence, “that people become like their parents? Even when they’re not, you know, biologically related?”

You glance up from your book, curious. “What makes you ask that?”

Leni shrugs, but there’s a playful glint in her eye. “Because Lukas has your stubborn face.”

Lukas looks up, feigning offense. “What stubborn face?”

“That one!” Leni says, pointing at him and grinning. “The one you’re making right now.”

“That’s not stubborn,” Lukas protests, though his furrowed brow and set jaw suggest otherwise. “It’s just … concentration.”

“Sure,” Leni teases, dragging out the word. “You do it all the time. Especially when Vati tells you to clean your room.”

You laugh, closing your book. “I hate to admit it, but she’s right, Lukas. You do have my stubborn face.”

Lukas groans, flopping onto his back dramatically. “Great. Now I’ll never hear the end of it.”

From the kitchen, Max’s voice rings out. “What’s this about Lukas inheriting something from you?”

Leni twists around, calling back, “His stubbornness! It’s practically genetic.”

Max appears in the doorway, holding a spatula, his eyebrows raised. “Oh, definitely. But he’s got my competitive streak, too.”

Lukas sits up, crossing his arms. “How do I have your competitive streak?”

Charles joins Max, wiping his hands on a towel. “Because you turned folding laundry into a race with Leni last week. And you were genuinely upset when you lost.”

“That’s because she cheated!” Lukas argues, pointing at Leni, who bursts out laughing.

“I didn’t cheat! I’m just faster than you.”

“You shoved my pile off the couch!”

“It fell!”

Max leans against the doorframe, smirking. “See? Competitive.”

Lukas mutters something under his breath, but the corners of his mouth lift in a reluctant smile.

Leni turns her attention back to you. “And I think I got Papa’s ... what’s the word? Dramatic tendencies.”

Charles places a hand over his chest, feigning shock. “Moi? Dramatic?”

You snort. “Charles, you once said the grocery store running out of your favorite cheese was a personal attack.”

“It was a personal attack,” he says, deadpan, which only makes everyone laugh harder.

Leni grins, leaning forward eagerly. “See? I’m dramatic like him. Remember when I fell during P.E. last week and told my teacher I’d never walk again?”

“I do remember,” you say, shaking your head. “And I also remember getting a very concerned phone call from the school about it.”

Leni shrugs, unrepentant. “It worked. They let me skip the rest of class.”

Lukas rolls his eyes. “You’re lucky you didn’t get detention.”

“I’m lucky I inherited Papa’s charm,” Leni counters, flashing a smug smile.

“You mean his overconfidence,” Lukas quips, and Charles gasps in mock outrage.

Max chuckles, stepping fully into the room and sitting on the armrest of your couch. “You both definitely picked up things from us. But it’s not just the big stuff, you know. It’s the little things, too.”

“Like what?” Leni asks, tilting her head.

Max gestures toward Lukas. “The way you bite your nails when you’re nervous? That’s all me. I used to do it so much when I was younger, my mom had to put gross-tasting polish on my fingers to make me stop.”

Lukas looks at his hands, startled. “I do not bite my nails.”

“You do,” Leni says, nodding solemnly. “All the time. Especially before exams.”

“Great,” Lukas mutters. “Now I’m going to be self-conscious about it.”

Charles points at Leni. “And the way you tap your foot when you’re waiting for something? That’s definitely me. I used to do it all the time before races when I started karting.”

“I do not tap my foot-” Leni starts, but she stops mid-sentence, catching herself as her foot bounces against the floor. Her eyes widen. “Oh my God, I do.”

Lukas smirks. “See? You’re not as perfect as you think.”

Leni sticks her tongue out at him, but there’s no malice in it. “At least I didn’t inherit Vati’s terrible taste in music.”

“Hey!” Max protests. “What’s wrong with my music?”

“Everything,” Leni says, grinning. “You play the same three songs on repeat every time we’re in the car.”

“They’re classics!”

“They’re old.”

“They’re timeless,” Max insists, turning to you for backup. “Tell her.”

You shrug, hiding a smile. “I don’t want to get involved.”

Charles grins, sitting on the floor next to Leni. “It’s okay, Max. At least she didn’t say you passed on your terrible cooking skills.”

Max glares at him. “You’re one to talk. Remember the time you burned spaghetti?”

“It was one time!”

“Burned spaghetti?” Lukas echoes, looking genuinely impressed. “How is that even possible?”

“It’s a talent,” Max says, smirking.

Leni laughs, leaning against Charles. “See? We’ve got the best parts of all of you. Except the bad cooking. That we avoided.”

You watch them, your heart swelling. It’s moments like these that remind you how deeply your family has grown together over the years. Despite not sharing blood, there’s no denying the ways Lukas and Leni have absorbed pieces of you, Max, and Charles — through habits, quirks, and inside jokes that only make sense within the four walls of your home.

“Do you ever wish you remembered what you got from your biological parents?” You ask softly, the question slipping out before you can stop it.

Leni and Lukas exchange a glance, their playful banter momentarily replaced by something quieter, more thoughtful.

“Sometimes,” Leni admits. “Like, when people ask where my freckles come from, I wonder if my mother had them too.”

Lukas nods. “Or when I see someone really tall and think maybe my father was tall. Stuff like that.”

“But it doesn’t matter,” Leni adds quickly, looking at you, Max, and Charles in turn. “Because we’re like you. In all the ways that count.”

“And we wouldn’t change it,” Lukas says, his voice steady.

You feel your throat tighten, and when you glance at Max and Charles, you see the same emotion mirrored in their eyes. Max reaches out to ruffle Lukas’ hair, while Charles pulls Leni into a side hug, kissing the top of her head.

“We wouldn’t change it either,” you say, your voice thick with emotion.

“Not for anything,” Charles adds.

Leni leans into him, smiling up at Max. “Even if you do have bad taste in music.”

Max groans, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll let that slide. This time.”

Lukas grins, leaning back against the couch. “See? We’ve got the best family.”

Leni nods in agreement, and for a moment, the room is filled with a comfortable, loving silence — the kind that only exists in the presence of people who truly know and understand each other.

[hedgehog-moss]

My chickens have not been lucky this winter—the youngest one, Louise Michel, despite her revolutionary name, was eaten by a fox earlier this year. At least this new year was off to an auspicious start for this fox and her family. It made me think about Fantastic Mr Fox and how this book indoctrinates small children into directing their empathy towards the beleaguered fox family, while the hen characters are complete non-people—they are even called stupid at one point, even though they are just sitting in their coop, doing their chicken job!

Anyway. Dru survived the fox attack unscathed and non-traumatised, which made me respect her even more than I already did. Drusilla is quite old by now, and she has survived everything—the fox attack that killed her first coopmate, Cordélia; several air strikes by birds of prey; Pandolf trying to scare her to serve his own dog interests... Even though she has long stopped laying eggs, she is a precious asset to my chicken coop: I am going to get new baby hens in the spring and I need Dru to teach them her strategies to win the Darwinian struggle for existence. As an elderly hen, her job is no longer to provide eggs, but wisdom.

And then I heard Dru cry out one afternoon, as if she had been attacked by something.

I felt confused as I ran out to rescue her—I'd seen her just five minutes before when I went out to distribute hay, she was near the pasture gate hanging out with the llamas, donkey, and dog. There's no way a fox would attack a chicken surrounded by such a security detail. I quickly found her, sitting just outside the pasture, in her normal brooding position, she didn't seem hurt—but Pandolf ran towards her as well, and she didn't move out of his way. That was very unusual. Pandolf runs at things and people like a fluffy corrida bull, happy to knock you over with the force of his love (there's a reason the French equivalent of "like a bull in a china shop" is "like a dog in a bowling game"), and Dru always makes sure to jump out of his way, boosting herself with her wings if necessary.

I wondered if she had a broken wing, but when I started examining her she made a very eloquent "urghh go away" gesture at me with both of her wings, so she could move them. Her legs didn't seem injured either, but she refused to get up. I ended up carrying her back to her coop so she could sit in peace and process her feelings, but she wasn't feeling better the next morning. She clucked at me amicably when I visited her but she didn't go outside all day, so I had to leave food and water outside her room like a bemused parent trying to accommodate an angsty teenager.

Since I hadn't been able to detect any injuries and she was eating normally, I thought she might be depressed. Maybe it had taken her some time to understand that she had lost her friend and was all alone in her coop, and then the realisation had hit her, and her normal chicken activities suddenly felt meaningless. That didn't really explain the sharp cry I'd heard the day before, though.

(I hadn't noticed until I took a closer look at the above photo that there is a dirty stain on the wall of the laying box! Embarrassing. But to my defence, chickens are not very clean creatures and keeping their coop clean is a Sisyphean task. I guess I always focus on cleaning the parts where the hens sit and walk, and hadn't leaned over to look at the inside wall. I've now cleaned it up with a brush—but I almost regret doing so, because a friend gave the stain a beautiful and mystical interpretation:

I waited a couple of days to see if Dru's agoraphobia got better, but on Day 3 of her refusing to leave her coop, I decided to take her to the vet.

The farmer who was sitting next to Dru and me in the waiting room seemed very puzzled about my decision to bring a chicken past her prime and no longer laying eggs to the vet for a diagnosis. At first he assumed that I hoped to have her diagnosed as Safe To Eat.

I told him about how this hen is very good at surviving, and I want her to pass on her knowledge to future generations.

Dru looked cranky at the vet, maybe because there was a poster on the wall that said "What's for dinner tonight?" and she took it personally.

Fun chicken fact: the rounder a hen is, the angrier. She may look like an adorable cream puff, but she is a ball of rage:

The vet noticed that her leg was a bit swollen, and said it could be an infection, or maybe some heavy animal had stepped on her foot. He gave me antibiotics and anti-inflammatories and then I had fun trying to make my cranky chicken take her meds every day. Do you think getting a cat to take a pill is difficult? Try it with an animal who evolved from raptors.

Here are screenshots from a video (which my wifi refused to load)—Dru wasn't having a good time, but trust me, neither was I. It was a daily struggle. On the other hand, I discovered that she loves cherry tomatoes! I had a cherry tomato plant in my greenhouse that was only here to keep the aquaponic system going in the winter, I wasn't eating the fruit as they were bitter February tomatoes, and for some reason it didn't occur to me to offer them to my chicken until I was walking around the greenhouse looking for some insect to reward her for taking her medicine. The daily tomato treat delighted her a lot more than some boring insect :)

Well, we are reaching the end of this adventure—Dru will get new coopmates soon (and hopefully start teaching them her secrets immediately) and the vet visit was very worth it 😊 She still has trouble going down the ladder of her coop so I go get her every morning and carry her near my house, but she is walking and, more importantly, scratching around for food again! Here's a little video:

Oh, no, wait, we aren't done—I must ask everyone to take part in the Trial of Pirlouit.

The vet did say it looked as if some heavy animal had stepped on Dru's foot... Considering the llamas are very delicate walkers, and Pandolf is a reckless brute but isn't heavy enough to break a chicken's leg, this makes Pirlouit the main suspect.

[bunjywunjy]

bunjy recipe book- Crustless Quiche of Eternal Dinners

this is a reliable, quick, and infinitely modifiable recipe that uses an entire three eggs plus whatever you have in the fridge to give you and several friends an excellent dinner time! crust is the most labor intensive and also the most boring part of the quiche, so getting rid of it really opens up entire worlds of possibilities for what is basically a very easy modifiable egg pie.

you will need:

a glass or porcelain 9-in pie dish, well greased

3 eggs

1/3 cup milk

1/3 cup heavy cream

salt and pepper to taste

this will give you a basic custard to enclose your fillings! and the fillings are up to you- good basic combinations to add are cheese/vegetables (like leek/gruyere), cheese/starch (like sharp cheddar/potatoes), cheese/vegetable/starch (like smoked cheddar/sweet onions/potatoes), cheese/vegetable/meat (like mozzarella/rehydrated sun-dried tomatoes/italian sausage), and cheese/meat (like cream cheese and lox).

you will need to fully cook your ingredients before you add them to the quiche if they are raw- saute your veggies and meats (DON'T FORGET TO ADD SALT), shred your cheese, and microwave your potatoes before chopping them into chunks. make sure that you remove any liquid or excess oil from your ingredients before you add them, as they can cause bubbles of weird hot liquid or a lot of oil buildup under your quiche. just put them on a paper towel for a little bit before you add them to the dish.

you can also add some spices to your custard when you mix it to complement your ingredients! there should always be salt and black or white pepper in there, but think about what other spices you have lying around that might go with what you're using. if you're doing mozzarella/sun-dried tomatoes/Italian sausage, add a couple shakes of italian seasoning blend, or basil/oregano/terragon! if you're doing cream cheese/lox, throw some dill in there! using a smoked cheese? add smoked paprika! you can add anything from dry spices to a couple shakes of hot sauce, mustard, or even worcestershire sauce if you think it'll work. sky is the limit.

once your ingredients are dry and your custard is assembled, you're ready to build your quiche! take your empty pie pan and grease it up real well with olive oil or butter, and layer in your starch and/or meat if you're using either of those. add your veggies in a thin layer on top of this, and then cover the whole thing in a layer of shredded cheese if you're using it! (cream cheese, ricotta, and cottage cheese should be swirled into the custard instead) lastly, pour in your custard and tease the vegetables and cheese around with a fork until everything is mostly submerged.

bake in a 350° preheated oven for 30 minutes and allow to cool before slicing.

keeps well in the fridge for over a week, some assemblages are good hot or cold! enjoy your infinite dinners.

[sugurugetoshairbrush]

Reversal is red, Limitless is blue, I keep on Infinity—but never with you⋆.˚ᡣ𐭩.𖥔˚

couldn't resist a stsg/reader valentines day drabble <33

The first sensation that envelops your senses is the rich scent of cinnamon and amber, laced with a hint of vanilla—warm and syrupy, like stepping into a bakery just as fresh pastries hit the display. You can’t remember your dream, not vividly, but the warmth in your chest lingers, wrapping around you like a second blanket. It almost distracts from the suffocating press of something firm and heavy restricting your movement.

Almost.

Waking up with Gojo is a paradox—both stifling and comforting. Your body stirs before your mind fully wakes, muscles shifting sluggishly as you stretch, only to be pulled back into a firm, unyielding hold. A sleepy exhale brushes against your ear. The weight atop you is familiar, massive, and unmoving.

As your vision clears, you blink up at a mess of white hair and smooth, pale skin. Gojo’s arms are locked around your waist in a death grip, the steady rise and fall of his chest lulling, his heartbeat a calm, tranquil rhythm against your cheek. Your lashes flutter against his skin, and he shivers.

You suppress a giggle.

The golden morning light filters through the curtains, pooling over the bed in waves of warmth. Outside, birds chirp lazily, greeting the slow start of the day. You lift a hand from where it clings to the comforter and reach for the nape of his neck, eager to trace your fingers through the sharp undercut—

“AUGH!”

Gojo jolts like he’s been electrocuted, limbs flailing as he thrashes free of the covers. The sheets tangle around his waist, curling and wrinkling like rippling ocean waves.

“C-cold! What the fuck? Your fingers are like icicles!”

You blink up at him, unimpressed, wiggling your fingers idly in the air. “They were under the covers all night. They can’t be that cold, Satoru. Always so damn dramatic.”

Gojo pouts, pink lips plump from sleep, cheeks lined with indents from the satin pillow. He huffs, burrowing into the comforter again, but not before reaching out to grasp your hand. “Feel. This is the normal temperature a hand should be, Ice Queen.”

You scoff, threading your fingers through his. His hands are equally cold—if not colder. A chill shoots up your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Oh, you bitch,” you deadpan. “You’re just as cold.”

Gojo retracts his hand like you burned him, gasping indignantly. “This! This is why we need Suguru. He’s our portable heater and arbitrator,” he declares, raising a finger like he’s struck gold. “A two-for-one deal, just like we are for him!”

He throws an arm around you triumphantly, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Right, right. Where is he, anyway? He really abandoned us in the middle of the night like a couple of common whores.”

As if summoned, the door creaks open, and a smooth, familiar voice interrupts.

“Ah, I wouldn’t exactly call you that, but you do seem to enjoy it privately. If I recall correctly, it’s usually you two begging me—on your knees, insisting I call you all sorts of names like—”

“—Sugu!”

Gojo’s voice pitches high, both mortified and excited, but the way his attention snaps toward the long-haired figure in the doorway tells you Getou’s got something else that’s captured his focus. You turn, propping yourself up on an elbow to take in the sight of him.

Getou stands at the threshold, a tray in hand, eyes glimmering with amusement. Despite his teasing, his smile is warm, genuine, crinkling the corners of his violet eyes. His dark hair is tousled, flyaways curling haphazardly, but the majority cascades down his back and over his shoulders in sleek, steep slopes.

He steps forward, kneeling on the bed to set the tray between you and Gojo. His flannel pants slide lower on his hips, exposing the deep lines of his V, muscles flexing under the weight of the tray.

Your breath catches.

On the tray, two plates of fragrant omurice are neatly arranged, ketchup hearts drawn over golden eggs, scallions sprinkled delicately on top. A ceramic plate holds heart-shaped spam musubi, croissants stacked beside a fresh fruit cup. Two glasses of juice sit on either side, and in the center, a tiny vase holds two blooming violas.

Silence.

You and Gojo are frozen, utterly dumbstruck. Even the birds outside seem to pause.

Getou settles back on his knees, placing his hands on his thighs, an easy pink dusting his cheeks. “Oh, come on,” he chides, waving a hand as if to brush off your awe. “You should’ve known I had to spoil you today.”

You finally find your voice, gaze flickering to the ketchup hearts. “Be mine?” you read aloud.

Getou extends his hands to both of you, a soft, expectant smile curving his lips.

“Will you be my Valentines?” he asks, voice sincere. “It’d truly be an honor.”

You and Gojo share a look, a million unspoken thoughts exchanged in a second. Then, simultaneously, you grab Getou’s hands and tug him forward in one frantic breath.

“Come he—” “—t over here.”

Getou laughs, warm and deep, as you and Gojo shove him between you, his broad back pressing into the pillows. You lean in first, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Gojo follows, but his is far more obnoxious—a loud, smacking peck.

And then—almost as if compelled—you press another, this time along his jaw, behind his ear. A shower of kisses follows, tracing the curve of his throat. Getou chuckles, the sound reverberating against your lips, chest shaking lightly.

“You can thank me after. Eat first,” he teases, dodging Gojo’s next attempt at a kiss.

Gojo whines but grabs a fork anyway. “Fine,” he pouts. “I stole more kisses than you anyway.” He points an accusatory finger, “You lose.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, would you look at that? My omurice is bigger than yours, Satoru. Tough break.”

Gojo gasps, scandalized, angling his face behind Getou to glare at you from over his shoulder. When you adjust to meet his eyes, he flashes Red at his fingertip then drags it across his throat in mock threat.

Getou sighs, exasperated but amused. “Hey, hey. Stop that—I want us all to have a pleasant day, but I can easily cancel your surprise plans for tonight. Kiss and make up.”

Like a couple of well-trained dogs, your bodies return to Getou’s side on instinct, perching on each of his thighs as if muscle memory alone guided you there. Your nose bumps against Gojo’s, the upturned tip of his sliding against your own before you press a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Again.”

Your fingers curl around Getou’s thigh, and your pinky brushes against Gojo’s. He hooks them together, matching the soft pressure as he slots his lips against yours. Getou hums in approval, and you follow Gojo’s lead, pulling back just enough to tug on his lower lip. His lips are chapped from sleep, and the friction makes him run his tongue over them to moisten the slide. The warmth of his breath lingers between you, a fleeting pause heavy with unspoken expectation.

A light tap at the small of your back pulls you from the moment.

“Now me.”

Lidded eyes flutter open as you reluctantly pull away from Gojo, turning toward Getou. He lifts up to press slow, sweet kisses against your lips, the soft smacks like music to your ears.

“Let’s eat now, shall we?”

Getou picks up a silver fork and knife, slicing neatly into the omurice, ensuring a perfect ratio of rice, egg, and ketchup before feeding it to a drooling Gojo. The moment the bite hits his tongue, Gojo moans like he’s reached nirvana, his expression pure bliss. A couple of grains of rice stick to his chin.

Getou turns to you next, guiding a forkful of the warm, umami-rich dish to your lips. The rice is still steaming, the ketchup balancing the textures and heat. You chew, savoring the care poured into the meal. The fruit is perfectly ripe—fat strawberries that stain Gojo’s lips red as you teasingly drag one over Getou’s tongue. Meanwhile, Gojo tears into the croissants like a starved beast, flaky crumbs littering the sheets and Getou’s lap.

You scrunch your nose but quickly relax as Getou offers you another bite. He follows it with a kiss, licking at your lips.

“Mm, a bit salty, is it?”

You shake your head, but he frowns anyway. As if reading your thoughts, he soothes, “Don’t worry about the crumbs. I anticipated Gojo’s frantic eating style. I’ll hand-vac after, okay?”

“Fis ith sooo guud, Soogi,” Gojo mumbles, his words barely decipherable around a full mouth, but his delight is unmistakable. The tray is nearly bare now, only cleared plates and the small vase remaining.

Feeling content, you lean into Getou’s side, his forearm curling around your shoulder, his head resting against your temple. He sighs, utterly content. By now, the sun has fully risen, golden heat flooding the room. You close your eyes, letting the warmth settle in, focusing on the small sounds Gojo makes as he finishes the last bites—hurried breaths, quick chewing, pleased little sighs.

Then silence.

Cracking an eye open, you find Gojo staring, that familiar hungry glint sparking behind his lashes.

“All full now. So good, Suguru—you’re the best.”

His appreciative gaze shifts into a smirk, milky lashes lowering over brilliant blue eyes.

“Now I’ve got pleeeenty of energy!”

He wedges himself between you and Getou, nuzzling into your necks before beginning to tongue-kiss the sensitive skin, his lips warm and sloppy. His hair tickles your chin, and his thick arms cage you both in. For all his bratty tendencies, Gojo is undeniably built—all lean muscle and effortless strength.

But Getou is stronger. He threads his fingers into Gojo’s hair, pulling him back with a firm grip.

“You guys didn’t even answer my question. I can’t help but feel ignored.”

“Hm?”

You blink up at him, bright-eyed, his feigned sad tone tugging at your heart despite the obvious tease.

“You didn’t agree to be my valentines.”

Gojo barks out a laugh. “Ha! Of course we’ll be your valentines. Is that even a fucking question?”

You poke Getou’s cheek in faux admonishment. “Right, Sugi? Duh. We couldn’t even wake up peacefully without you.”

“Exactly,” Gojo hums, ruffling his own hair to shake it out of his eyes before making grabby hands at you both. “Now give us attention. I’m not above using Blue.”

⋆.˚ᡣ𐭩.𖥔˚

[thef1diary]

A White Christmas | D. Ricciardo

Merry Smutmas: BONUS FIC

warnings: 18+ content, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, oral, husband!dad!daniel

— Happy Holidays & Merry Christmas from your favourite daniel sluts! (aka me n @emchante)🎄🎁 while this may not have been the perfect smutmas, we both thoroughly enjoyed writing each fic and we hope you enjoyed reading them just as much. Here’s the bonus fic, as promised. Be warned, there’s a lotta holiday filth ahead 👀

It was Christmas Morning, and the soft hush of snow blanketed the world outside the frosted windows. The flakes drifted lazily from the sky, a picturesque white Christmas that seemed almost too perfect to be real. Inside, the warmth of laughter and joy filled the air as you and Daniel watched your three kids eagerly tear into their presents. Their delighted squeals and wide-eyed wonder made the early wake-up call more than worth it. Wrapping paper flew across the living room, the scent of cinnamon rolls wafted from the kitchen, and the fire crackled softly in the background.

Breakfast followed shortly after—simple but perfect, with pancakes, eggs, and hot chocolate for everyone. The kids chattered excitedly about their new toys, their little faces—a close replica of Daniel’s—glowing with the magic of the day. Once the plates were cleared, you dressed them in their holiday sweaters, ready to head off to their grandma’s house where you and Daniel would join them later in the afternoon.

The house was quiet now, blissfully so, as you stood by the doorframe, waving goodbye to the kids as they piled into the car with their aunt. Once they drove away, Daniel closed the door, his arms wrapping around your waist from behind as he pressed a lingering kiss to your neck.

“Finally,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and teasing. “We’ve got the house to ourselves for a couple hours.”

You turned in his arms, raising a brow at the sly grin tugging at his lips. “And what exactly do you plan on doing with this time, Mr. Ricciardo?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead he walked over to the Christmas tree and picked up the last neatly wrapped present sitting underneath. His grin grew wider as he handed it to you. “Open it and find out.”

You quickly unwrapped the present, your curiosity piqued, only to find the sheerest, most delicate lace lingerie you’d ever seen nestled inside. The deep red fabric was soft under your fingertips, accented with intricate embroidery and ribbons that left little to the imagination. Your cheeks flushed, but Daniel’s smirk only deepened.

“And here I thought we were trying to be nice for Christmas,” you teased, holding the garments up for a better look.

“What can I say?” he replied, stepping closer until his hands were on your hips. “I wanted a very, very naughty gift this Christmas.” His lips brushed yours, his voice a whisper. “And I plan on unwrapping it right now.”

It didn’t take you long to change. When you stepped into the bedroom wearing the lingerie, Daniel’s eyes darkened instantly, his gaze raking over every inch of you.

“Turn around,” he commanded softly, his voice low and rough.

You did as he asked, feeling his gaze burn into your back as you gave him a full view. His sharp intake of breath sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could say anything, his hands were on your hips, pulling you back against his chest.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear as his hands roamed over your body. “Look at you, love. All wrapped up for me.”

You let out a soft laugh, glancing back at him over your shoulder. “You like it, then?”

“Like it?” His hand slid between your thighs, finding the growing heat there through the thin fabric. “I’m obsessed.”

He didn’t wait for a response before nudging you gently towards the bed. You let yourself fall onto the soft mattress, his hands quickly finding your thighs to spread them apart. Daniel knelt between your legs, his hands gripping them firmly as he pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee. His mouth trailed higher, and when he reached the thin lace of your panties, he paused to look up at you.

“Look at you, adding some sweetness to my gift,” he murmured, his voice filled with dark amusement.

You didn’t have a chance to reply before his mouth covered you, his tongue pressing against your cunt through the lace. You gasped, your back arching off the bed as he teased you, his tongue working you over with slow, deliberate strokes and kisses.

Daniel’s lips teased you through the lace, his tongue hot and wet as it moved against the thin fabric, dampening it further with each slow stroke. The friction of the lace against your sensitive skin was intoxicating, a mix of pleasure and torment that had you gasping, your hands fisting the sheets beneath you.

“Daniel,” you whimpered, your hips shifting, desperate for more, for him to pull the fabric aside and give you what you needed.

But he only chuckled against you, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. “Patience, my love. I like seeing you like this—needy and desperate for me.”

He slid a hand up your thigh, his touch firm and possessive, before his fingers slipped beneath the lace. He didn’t move it away. Instead, he pressed against your slick folds, the fabric catching every motion as his fingers teased and circled your clit.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire. “You’re soaking through it.”

You could only moan in response, your body trembling as he continued to torment you with slow, deliberate strokes of his fingers. His mouth joined again, his tongue pressing firmly against your lace-covered pussy, and the combined sensations had you spiraling out of control.

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” he commanded, his voice low and rough against your skin. “Dirty this pretty lace for me.”

It didn’t take much more. His fingers pressed just right, his tongue relentless as it worked you through the fabric, and the pressure built until it exploded, your body clenching and shaking as your orgasm ripped through you. You cried out his name, your thighs trembling as your cum coated the lace, leaving it soaked and clinging to your sensitive cunt.

Daniel groaned in approval, pulling back to admire his handiwork. “Fuck, look at this,” he muttered, his fingers tracing the damp lace. “You’ve completely ruined it. Just how I wanted.”

Before you could catch your breath, he was moving, flipping you onto your stomach with ease. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you onto your knees, your ass high in the air as he positioned you exactly how he wanted.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice filled with reverence and hunger. He slid his hands down your back, over the curve of your ass, before grabbing the lace and pulling it to the side, finally uncovering your cunt.

“Perfect,” he murmured, his hands spreading you wider. “Absolutely perfect.”

You felt him against you a moment later, the thick head of his cock teasing your hole as he slid it through your wetness, gathering everything you’d already given him.

“Daniel, please,” you begged, your voice breathless and broken.

“Please what?” he taunted, his voice dark and teasing as he paused at your entrance.

“Please fuck me,” you cried, pushing your hips back against him.

He didn’t make you wait any longer. With one smooth thrust, he buried himself inside you, filling you completely. You both groaned at the feeling, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he stilled for a moment, letting you adjust.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” he groaned, his voice rough with need.

Then he began to move, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, each thrust deep and deliberate. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your cries and his guttural moans.

“You’re taking me so well,” he moaned, his hands digging into your hips. “Such a good girl for me. So tight, so wet.”

You couldn’t form a response, your mind foggy with pleasure as he set a punishing pace, his cock hitting deep with every thrust. Your arms gave out beneath you, your face pressed into the mattress as he continued to take you, his grip never faltering.

“Gonna cum for me again, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice strained as he leaned over you, his lips brushing your ear. “Feel you squeezing me already. Do it—cum all over my cock.”

His words sent you over the edge, your body convulsing as another orgasm tore through you. He didn’t slow down, fucking you through it, his thrusts growing erratic as he chased his own release.

With a low groan, he pulled out at the last second, his hand stroking himself as he finished over your ass. The heat of his cum splashed across your skin, thick and hot, marking you in the most intimate way.

Daniel’s breath was ragged behind you as he steadied himself, his release warm and sticky on your skin. His hands slid down your hips, almost soothing, before he traced a finger through the mess he’d made.

“You look even better like this,” he murmured, his voice rough with satisfaction. “Covered in my cum.”

You shivered at his tone, feeling his finger gather some of the wetness on your skin before he pressed it to your lips. “Open,” he commanded, his eyes locked on yours as you turned your head slightly to look at him.

Your lips parted, and he slid his finger into your mouth, watching intently as you closed your lips around him and sucked. His groan was deep and guttural, his other hand coming to stroke your hair. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, his thumb brushing your cheek.

When he pulled his finger free, you turned fully, taking in the sight of him. His chest heaved with every breath, his body glistening with sweat, and yet his cock was still hard, standing proud and ready. The sight of him—so undone and yet still wanting—ignited something primal in you.

Without a word, you slid off the bed, sinking to your knees in front of him. His eyes widened slightly, his lips parting in surprise, but the smirk that followed told you he knew exactly what you intended.

“Look at you,” he said softly, his voice dripping with lust. “So fucking eager.”

You didn’t respond. Instead, your hands wrapped around his thighs, your touch firm as you brought your face closer. Your tongue darted out, licking along the underside of his cock, tasting him. He hissed, his hips jerking slightly as you teased him, your tongue swirling around the head before you took him into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head falling back as his hands found your hair. “That mouth of yours… feels so damn good.”

You worked him with practiced ease, your lips sliding down his length as your tongue pressed against him. Your hand joined the motion, stroking the base while your mouth focused on the tip, hollowing your cheeks with each movement.

Daniel’s grip in your hair tightened as his breathing grew heavier. “You’re gonna make me lose it, love,” he said, his voice strained. “So fucking perfect, on your knees like this.”

You hummed in response, the vibration sending a shudder through him. His hips bucked slightly, and you took him deeper, letting him hit the back of your throat. The sound he made was sinful, his control fraying with each passing second.

“Shit,” he groaned, pulling back just enough to take a breath. “I need to see you.”

He withdrew from your mouth, and you looked up at him, your lips swollen and glistening. His eyes darkened at the sight, and you continued stroking him with your hand.

You leaned in, pressing a kiss to the tip of his cock, gaze connected with his as you whispered, “cum all over me, Danny.”

You tilted your head back slightly, your tongue flicking out to catch the first drop of his release as he came. His moan was deep and raw as he spilled over your face, the warmth splashing across your cheeks and down to your chest. He aimed deliberately, painting your lace-covered breasts with streaks of white, each one a claim on your body.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his breathing uneven as he admired his work. “You’re a goddamn masterpiece.”

Your hands came up to your chest, your fingers trailing through the mess he’d made. You looked up at him, your gaze heated. “All yours,” you whispered, your voice low and sultry.

He knelt down, his hands cupping your face as he kissed you deeply, the taste of him still on your tongue. “Always mine,” he murmured against your lips.

Painted in Daniel’s cum, it was truly a white Christmas, one you’d never forget.

taglist: @lilorose25 @thenotoriouserg @a-distantdreamer @leclercsluvs @fat-meh @wintxr-widow @amirahart @alishamai @rendezvoushn

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Little Surprises 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, cheating/established relationships, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Andy Barber, side of Mike Weiss

Summary: You have a baby on the way but it's not the only surprise.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You inch the door open and wince. You knocked once but no answer came. You’re surprised to find someone within. You rap again with your knuckles, that time on the door frame. 

“Excuse me, Mr. Barber,” you say, “you mind?” 

He sits up straight. He clears his throat as he forces his shoulders high, resuming his usual rigid posture. He’s of the few attorneys there that acknowledges you. He nods. 

“Uh, sure,” he wiggles the mouse and clicks. “Come on in.” 

You open the door wider and cross the office to his desk. You pick up the wastebasket beside it, holding back a grunt as your waist band presses tightly beneath your belly. You carry the bin to the cart at the door and dump it. It’s just coffee cups and crumpled paper, a wrapper from an egg wrap. The thought of eggs makes you nauseous. 

“Need the break,” he rubs his eyes as you near him again. “Eyes are getting fuzzy.” 

“Oh no,” you humour him. You hold the cloth in your hand, “you mind?” 

“Go ahead,” he rolls his chair back. 

“So sorry, sir, I'm running behind today.” You wipe around his keyboard and mouse. You pause and hover over a wrapper for a protein bar. “All done with this?” 

“Um, yeah,” he answers. 

You smile and scoop up the wrapper with a crinkle. “No problem.” 

Your back spasm and you suck in a sharp breath. You rub between your hips as you retreat. You feel him watching you. 

“You... alright?” 

“It’s so sweet of you to ask,” you preen as you go back to the cart and toss the wrapper. “I’m just fine.” 

You go to the book shelf and clean around the awards, the decorative gavel, and statue of Lady Justice. You feel him watching still. A few people have noticed despite you borrowing Mike’s shirts. Even those are starting to cling. 

“You’re... expecting,” he guesses correctly. 

You drag the cloth over a shelf, “I am.” 

“I’m sorry if that’s...” 

“Nah, it’s okay. I just don’t like anyone fussing over me,” you assure him. “All tidy, isn’t it?” 

You step back and admire your work. The wheels of his chair roll over the mat. 

“Why don’t you sit? Take a load off?” He offers. 

You face him and smile. He’s so nice. He spends all that time working and he’s still worried about you. You’re just the cleaner. You know well how stressful law work can be. You barely see your boyfriend with him running around the public courts. 

“Really, Mr. Barber, I still got the rest of the floor to do.” 

“I remember when Laurie was expecting,” he says. “She was exhausted all the time.” 

“I can manage. I’m not too far. Three months is all.” 

“You really shouldn’t be doing so much,” he keeps his hand on the chair. “Not in your condition.” 

“My doctor says it’s good,” you argue. “I really appreciate you worrying for me, but I’m fine. Really.” 

He looks at you. The same way Mike does. They reflect each other in certain ways. They’re always so serious. They don’t like to be told no and they win most arguments. It’s probably why they do what they do. 

“Well,” he sighs, his hand going to his hip. That posture defines him. It underlines his age. At least ten years older than Mike, who’s got a couple on you himself. “If you need somewhere to sit down, you come back here.” 

“Oh, Mr. Barber,” you smile. “That’s so kind.”  

You back to the door and tuck the dust cloth away. You get behind the cart as he follows. “Should you be pushing that around?” 

“It’s not much,” you roll it back and forth. “Paper and sponges.” 

He nods, his lips thinned in disapproval. That’s why you don’t tell anyone. They treat you different. And Mike doesn’t want his family to know yet. He says his mom will want you to marry first but he hasn’t even asked yet. 

“You should be on accommodated duty. You know, I dealt with a few labour cases?” He insists. 

“Mr. Barber,” you chide softly. “You got enough to worry about.” 

You roll the cart away, down to Mr. Logiudice’s door. It’s already opens. He greets you with a flick of his fingers as he holds his phone to his ear. You clean quietly, certain not to disturb his call. 

As you leave, Mr. Barber is still by his door. He stares at you for a moment before he retreats into his office. You hope you didn’t bother him too much. 

You finish up your rounds and dump the bag in the dumpster. You stay outside for your break, sitting at the picnic table near the corner of the building. You drink water and chew on crackers. The baby is picky. Your breakfast ended up in the sink. 

“Ahem,” the deep noise draws your eyes up as you stare at your phone. Mike’s busy. Not answering. 

“Oh, Mr. Barber.” You blink at the attorney in his grey jacket. 

“Aren’t you cold?” He asks. 

You look down at your long-sleeved shirt. 

“Baby’s got me running hot,” you shrug. 

“Hmm, I just ran out to the coffee place,” he points over his shoulder. “Slow day.” 

“It’s not so bad,” you look up at the grey clouds. 

“They had a special. Muffin and coffee for three bucks,” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a white bag stamped with the cafe logo. “I just needed the caffeine.” 

He has a cup in his other hand as he sets the bag on the table close to you. You look at it, then him. You find his eyes on your phone. You peer down and find your conversation with Mike still open. Still no reply. 

“Thanks, uh,” you pull the bag closer. “I’ll save it for after work.” Odds are, you’ll give it to Mike. The smell of cinnamon is already sickening. 

He gives another flat hum. His blue eyes search you. “Too early? You don’t know if it’s a girl or boy?” 

You shake your head, “not yet. Don’t think I’ll ask.” 

“Oh,” he clucks. “Laurie had to know. Had the nursery done two months early.” 

“A lot to figure out,” you agree and stand, gathering up your phone and snack. “Gotta get back to it so I can buy the baby a crib, huh?” 

He’s quiet. He walks with you back to the building. You feel him glancing at you repeatedly. He opens the door for you and you thank him. 

“Least I can do,” he says. 

[whore4mattsturniolo]

Brownies - Dealer!Chris x Stoner!Reader

your fav couple is back with...fluff? who am i.

The golden haze of sunset spilled through your apartment windows, casting streaks of pink and amber across the floor. The air was thick with warmth, tinted with the slow, sultry vocals of Sade pouring from your speakers, wrapping the whole room in something soft and romantic.

You darted between countertops in a quiet frenzy. Mixing bowls, measuring cups, and half-open ingredient containers cluttered every surface in your tiny kitchen. “Brownie mix, eggs, flour…” you mumbled, checking off each item. The oven ticked as it preheated behind you, glowing faintly.

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, hands already dusted with flour, despite not even starting the baking process, heart fluttering more than you wanted to admit. Everything was in place. Everything except him.

Right on cue, a knock echoed from the front door, sharp but familiar. Your breath caught for a moment, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Chris was here.

"Sup, angel," he smirks as you open the door for him. He was dressed in all black, gold chain dangling from his neck.

You couldn't help but grin back, heart skipping a beat. "Hey, baby." Your hand reached out for the bag dangling from his fingertips, your fingers brushing against his as you pulled him inside. The warm, familiar scent of weed and cologne wraps around you as you set the extra groceries down on the cramped kitchen counter, digging through the bags.

Chris groans behind you, his voice dripping with mock annoyance. "Y'know how fuckin' hard it was to find that cannabutter shit?" He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, burying his face in your hair, breathing deeply. "Told you we coulda just made it ourselves."

You giggle, a soft blush creeping up your neck as you leaned back into his embrace. "Well, now we know for next time."

His lips ghost over the back of your neck, sending a jolt of electricity straight to your spine. A shiver ran through you as he trailed light kisses down your skin, the warmth of his breath making your heart race.

As you move to the counter, pulling out the mixing bowl and a spatula, you could feel Chris’s red, half-lidded eyes on you, a mischievous glint in them as he leans against the counter. "So, what’s the plan here, angel? You need help, or do I just sit here while you have your lil' Martha Stewart moment?" His tone was low and teasing, and you could sense the playful smirk that lingered on his lips.

You shoot him a glance over your shoulder. "You can help, but I dunno if you’ll be much help," you tease, your fingers working deftly as you crack the eggs and add them to the bowl.

He groans dramatically at your words, rolling his eyes, knowing damn well you were right. "Whatever, kid." He steps closer, leaning down to peer into the bowl, his hand brushing against yours as he tries to sneak a taste of the brownie mix.

"Hey, greedy!" you laugh, swatting his hand away. "You never heard of salmonella?"

Chris pouts, feigning disappointment. "Jus' making sure it’s up to standard. Real ones don't get salmonella."

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Go measure out the flour. Since you're so eager to help." He gives a dramatic sigh at your orders, but moves to grab the flour anyway. He fumbles with the measuring cup, dumping a little too much into the bowl and scattering flour all over the counter, and all over his black shirt.

“Fuck this," he mutters to himself, feeling your prying eyes on him. He hated messing up anything, especially in front of you. He tries to clean up, but only manages to make a bigger mess, a red flush creeping up his neck. You stifle a laugh, continuing to mix the rest of the dry ingredients. "Fuck you laughin' at?" Chris tries to keep his hardened demeanor, hiding his embarassment.

"Nothing!" You say, grabbing the cup of flour from his hands, the smirk on your face growing. "Nothing at all, Chris."

Chris scoffs, going to wipe his hands off on his jeans, only to be met with white hand prints. "Whatever. Shit's too fuckin' messy, anyway."

"Thought you liked it messy?" A smile curling your lips he moves to stand behind you, watching you mix each ingredient with vigor.

"Only when it's you, angel." Chris’s eyes twinkle, his breath tickling the shell of your ear.

You shiver slightly at the closeness, but play it cool, pretending to be more interesting in the brownies then you already were. "You better sit down somewhere before these brownies get forgotten about." You say as Chris trails warm kisses down your neck, his hands grabbing at every part of you, not caring that the two of you were almost completely covered in flour.

"Read my mind completely." He attempts to press a kiss to your lips, but you pull back, instead reaching for the cannabutter near the counter.

"A little goes a long way," You say smugly, dropping the jar into his hands. "Says you only need a little."

Chris shrugs. He rummages through your drawers, before pulling out the biggest spoon he could find. Reaching into the jar, he grabs way more than the recipe called for. His tolerance was obviously higher than the average, but there was no way either of you would survive this.

He drops the butter into the mixing bowl, pushing you aside and stiring the ingredients himself. "Needs a lil' of my love, you know what I mean?" He grins. "Gonna make sure these are the best brownies of your life." You roll your eyes at his insistence, but step back anyway, leaning against the counter.

"Turn this slow shit off. S'makin' me wanna fall asleep." Chris motions towards the speaker, still mixing the ingredients, now determined not to mess them up. "Put on Future or somethin'"

"Without Sade there wouldn't even be Future," you playfully hit his shoulder, reaching across him to grab your phone and change the playlist to one of his, Travis Scott replacing the sound of Sade's sultry vocals.

Once the brownies are in and the door shuts with a satisfying click, there’s a pause, just the sound of Chris' music still crooning from the speaker and the low hum of the preheated oven. The smell of brownies begins to swirl around the apartment, coating the air in sweet. You’re wiping your hands on a towel when you feel him at your back again, warmth radiating off him.

The moment between you is still. No petty arguments, no unspoken words. Just still. Peaceful. It's rare, and it feels amazing.

"You’re really dedicated to the craft,” you tease.

He shrugs, a smug little grin playing at his lips. “What can I say? I like makin’ sure you’re satisfied.”

You shoot him a look, trying not to smile too hard. “With brownies?”

“With everything.” His voice dips, low and lazy, his hand reaching out to smack your ass, earning a jolt from you. He leans against the counter, his eyes raking up and down your figure with eyes you know all too well.

“So…what we doin’ for the next thirty?” he asks.

You give him a look, leaning back on your elbows, letting your shirt ride up just a little. “Dunno. Was thinking about rearranging my spice cabinet."

Chris laughs, low and scratchy. “You got jokes now, huh?” He follows you, hands slipping around your waist. “You talk too much for someone standin’ here lookin’ better than the shit in the oven."

“You keep callin’ me a snack but ain’t eat nothin’ yet,” you shoot back, eyes fluttering up to meet his.

“Oh trust,” he murmurs, mouth ghosting over yours, “I’m tryna be patient. You know I don't stop 'til I finish.”

Your breath hitches, but you keep the same smirk. “Not even for the brownies?”

Chris pauses, like he’s seriously considering it. “…Depends. You gonna ride me while they cool off?”

You laugh, the sound slightly breathless. "Only you would get horny from making brownies."

He chuckles under his breath, tongue poking out to wet his bottom lip. “Ain’t nobody ever baked brownies lookin’ like that, angel. Don’t blame me.” He nudges your knees apart with his thigh, resting his hands on either side of you on the counter. “You don’t even gotta do anything—just sit there bein’ pretty.

He sniffs the air, the sweet aroma of weed and chocolate filling his nostrils. "Brownies, you on my lap, music loud as hell, neighbors gettin' mad again. Dunno about you, but it sound like a perfect night t'me."

You tilt your head, pretending to think. “Might need to roll something first. Make it worth my while."

"Say less."

He’s already halfway to his backpack, digging for papers and a fresh nug, muttering, “You lucky you're my girl. Don't let anybody talk to me like that."

You raise a brow. “Oh, I’m your girl now?”

Chris glances up at you from where he’s grinding, sitting at your dining table. “You walkin' around, bakin’ weed brownies in those short ass shorts. I’m not not claiming you.”

You giggle, grabbing the lighter he left the last time he was here. The one with your face on it. “Alright, Romeo, shut up and spark it when you’re done.”

He steps close to you after rolling the joint, holding it up to your lips. "Better be getting dinner and a show after this."

this was the og 4/20 special but dealer!matt was begging to be let out the basement

[hanafubukki]

Thinking about heartbeats, how fae have sensitive ears to hear such sounds. Lilia would pause at times and listen.

Badum Badum

And he would sigh, it’s one of the ways he knew his boys are okay.

He listened in on Malleus’s heartbeat when he was in an egg, it was one of the few signs that, yes, this baby was still alive. When he wasn’t allowed to visit Malleus as a child, he would sneak close by the side of the tower of his room and listen in, making sure he was okay. And even long after he had grown, it was another way to detect him when he visited the cottage in the woods.

Thinking of Lilia listening to Silver’s heartbeat, it was a way to keep track of him while he was out and about around the cottage and in the forest. It was also his way of checking that Silver was alive during his sleep spells and to soothe his worries.

Sebek, Lilia didn’t always have to listen in on, his voice loud even at a young age. But during those times the boy would be quiet? He would listen and look for him. A little surprise visit and a prep talk would have the boy back to his loud self.

Thinking about the events after Lilia’s death, now this habit of his are seen in his boys.

Malleus who’s young and his ears sharp, maybe even sharper than Lilia’s, who after loosing him would stand by his door, neither going in nor leaving.

Listening.

There.

His heartbeat.

He’s alive.

Lilia is most likely sleeping given how late it is after Malleus’s walk. But a part of Malleus settles, tears in the corner of his eyes.

Everything is alright.

I love you.

Thinking about Silver who can’t rid of the ghostly feel of his father passing away.

Silver who would log onto the online servers his father plays to check if he’s still playing his video games late into the night

Who would sign in relief once he notices his father playing with his gaming friend of many years.

Thinking about Sebek, the one who wished for all their happiness and who loves a happy ending.

Hesitant and wondering if everything that occurred were true to reality.

He, who would stand by Lilia’s door, not moving for a couple of hours as if he were guarding everyone’s happiness himself.

Thinking about all three meeting by accident at Lilia’s door, no words exchanged, they know the look in the others’ eyes.

The feel of despair still haunts them in the coldness of night.

Thinking how Lilia chooses that moment to open the door, as if he knew, as if he always known they were checking up on him.

He gives them a smile, asking them if they want to have a sleepover. They all agree a bit too quickly that gives away their anxiety but none of them care.

All four end up falling asleep on Lilia’s floor in a tangle of limbs, pillows, blankets, and smiles with him at the center of all and they the center of his world.

They can hear his heartbeat as he can hear theirs.

The road to recovery is a long one filled with tribulations and uncertainties.

But despite the challenges they face, they will always have each other.

That alone will always lead to their Happy Ending.

[ashen-char]

life makes love look hard

ship: anora x reader (gender neutral)

summary: reader has a tough day. anora comforts you.

word count: 1700+

notes: requested here and ani x reader won the poll soooo here ya go!

The apartment is a new development in the young couple's lives. Anora had just pawned off the ring, tired of clinging onto the horrific 48 hours it represents. She's moving on with you now. Selling it represented that. Suddenly able to afford a deposit, the two of you had scouted a cozy studio in Manhattan. Closer to HQ so Ani didn't have to take the subway so often, closer to your work too. It made sense.

It's barely decorated. You two haven't had the time to unpack much, just the essentials. Her clothes are in the closet, both of your products lining the vanity and bathroom counters. The rest are still in boxes. No shelves to put them onto yet, just bare white walls that are starting to make you feel claustrophobic. The apartment feels heavier than usual, like the walls are pressing in just a little too much. The air is stale, thick with the kind of silence that makes everything worse instead of better. And your brain is screaming at you - bored but too overwhelmed to do anything. You’ve been sitting in the same spot on the couch for who knows how long, staring at nothing, the day’s weight heavy on your shoulders.

Anora notices you on the couch, staring into space. "Bad day?" Anora asks. She keeps her voice casual. Not meaning to press but she’s already dropping onto the couch next to you, slinging an arm over the backrest like she’s settling in for a long night.

"Yeah. Been... rough," is all you can offer.

You don’t elaborate right away. You know Ani's waiting for more, and that you should get over the hard part and put words to how absolutely sucky this whole day has been, but even the thought of saying more exhausts you. Instead, you stare at the same spot on the floor you’ve been glaring at for the past fifteen minutes. Hoping maybe it’ll swallow you whole. 

Anora lets the silence stretch. She’s good at that - knowing when to push and when to let you breathe. When to tease and make light of things, or when to be serious. But eventually, she exhales, reaches over, and flicks your knee.

"Alright, I'm officially calling it," she announces, "you’re going through it. Bad."

"That obvious?"

She grins. "Yeah, what can I say? I just know you that well, babe." Then she shifts closer, resting her elbow on her knee, eyes locking onto yours with that sharp, focused expression she gets when she’s getting serious. "So, ya gonna tell me what happened, or do I have to fuckin' guess?" Ani jokes.

You hesitate. Which sucks. You take pride in the fact that you two communicate, hell, even over communicate sometimes. Part of you wants to brush it off, to tell her it’s nothing. Don't waste your mental energy on things you can't change, it'll just upset you more. But the words get stuck in your throat. You don't want to brush this off. Don't want to say it's nothing, because that would mean accepting it. That this is the way the world works.

Anora notices. Of course she does. She reaches out, tugs at the sleeve of your sweatshirt - not hard, just enough to ground you. "Hey," she says, softer now. "It's me. I'm here, yeah? No judgement."

She turns her body to face you, one hand cupping your cheek to tilt your head towards her. Her big brown eyes search yours, filled with warmth and worry. Sometimes it's like Anora can sense your distress from a mile away, like it makes her own heart ache. You know that she wants nothing more than to take it away, to fix whatever has you so clearly suffering.

"I know I ain't no therapist, but you don't gotta go through this alone. I'm your girl, remember?" She gives you a little smile, trying to coax one out of you in return, even stroking your cheek. "Seriously. Lay it on me."

So you do. "When I was making breakfast, one of the eggs was rotten so I ruined three eggs - you know how I do that thing where I put crack 'em all into one bowl so I can scramble and salt it evenly. And eggs are so expensive these days," you tell her. The words get easier when you're looking in Ani's eyes. She's just nodding and humming but you feel your shoulders get lighter. Sharing the burden that you were holding alone. "Didn't have time to cook any other breakfast, so I went to work hungry. Stomach rumbled during my presentation today, that was fucking humiliating."

Groaning, you lean forward and hide your face in Ani's neck. She smells like vanilla and that cherry blossom mist deodorant she likes to wear, plus something light and fruity. "No one said anything, but they probably thought I was unprofessional. Bad at time management, at least." With a deep inhale, you try to let the nagging thoughts go.

Saying it out loud makes it sound so insignificant now, and it's kinda embarrassing that you were getting so worked up about it. Logically you know that it's the culmination of all the small things, the feeling that nothing was going right all day, that finally drove you to this brink of turning your brain off. "I sound stupid. Whiny," you whine.

"Hey, hey... don't you dare feel stupid," she chastises lightly. "You're human. Life's a fucking rollercoaster sometimes, yeah? The little things, they can take a real toll. Doesn't make shit less hard if they're small, or silly. They matter to me because you matter to me."

Ani holds you like this for a long moment, letting you hide away from the world in the warmth and softness of her embrace. Her fingers thread through your messy hair, stroking through the strands so you can focus on something else. Her presence has always done wonders for you.

"Okay," she says. "So do you want the ‘life is unfair but you’ll get through it’ pep talk? Or do you want me to threaten someone for you? Because I’ve got some pretty creative ideas."

You snort, and she grins like that was her plan all along. "Seriously," she continues, nudging your foot with hers. "Whatever you need, I got you. Distraction? Done. Validation? Also done. Want me to say something so ridiculous you forget why you’re even upset? Babe, that’s my fuckin' specialtyyy," she drags out.

You shake your head, but the weight in your chest feels a little lighter. "You’re an idiot," you mumble.

"Yeah," she shrugs, "but I’m your idiot." 

She tips your chin up, forcing you to meet her gaze and stop hiding against her chest. After what feels like a minute, Anora leans in, resting her forehead against yours. Her breath is warm on your face as she whispers, "I hate seeing you like this. I hate that you had a shitty day, and I hate that I couldn't be there to make it better." She pulls back a bit to cup your face in her hands, her thumbs brushing over your cheekbones. "But you'll always have me.

Anora shifts, getting more comfortable, but she doesn’t let go of you. Instead, she leans in a little, her voice dropping to something lower, almost conspiratorial. Letting go of that serious shit for a second to let her lovable personality shine through again.

"You know," she says, tapping her fingers against your arm like she’s idly counting down to something, "I was gonna drag you out tonight. Thought about taking you to that 24-hour diner, ordering a pile of fries so obscene the staff would probably talk shit about us in the kitchen. And getting them to top up our coffee over and over of course." She tilts her head. "But you seem more like a ‘stay here and rot’ kind of sad tonight. Am I right?"

You let out a laugh. You do love getting that shitty diner, but staying in sounds best. At least for your mental state. "Yeah." Ani knows you get like this sometimes, and she's never handled it with anything but playful acceptance. You get so tired. Not just physically, but deep in your soul. 

"Cool. Then I’ll rot with you."

She kicks off her boots and you complain about her wearing her shoes inside again. As she placates your huffs, she pulls a blanket over the both of you. Then - because she’s Anora - she grabs the remote and starts flipping through streaming services without even asking what you want to watch.

"Let’s see," she muses, scrolling with the kind of lazy confidence that you love in her. There's never back and forth about what you two want to eat, never any indecision. "Do we go with something so bad it’s good, or something so good it makes you forget life sucks? Oh, or maybe one where other people's lives are so bad it makes you feel grateful for your own life's brand of shittiness?"

You shrug against her. "Don’t care."

"Bold of you to let me decide." She smirks. "I could make you watch some artsy foreign film with no subtitles, just to mess with you."

"You wouldn’t," you say with a glare.

She raises an perfectly plucked eyebrow. "Wouldn’t I?"

You roll your eyes, but you don’t stop her when she finally settles on some home makeover show - one of those absurd ones with a host who never runs out of quips, gaudy design choices, and way in-depth explanations of what they're going to change. It’s exactly the kind of thing that requires zero emotional investment but sucks you in for a binge, which is perfect.

The opening scene plays, bright flashes of the house's 'before shots' lighting up the dim room, but Anora’s attention is half on you, like she’s checking to see if this is working. If you’re still too lost in your own head.

She nudges you again, softer this time. "Hey."

You glance over, and she looks at you with that same mix of teasing and something steadier, something real.

"I’m serious, you know," she says. "You don’t have to deal with anything alone."

The words settle in, warm and steady, sinking past the exhaustion and the heaviness of the day. You don’t know what to say back, so you don’t say anything at all. You just lean against her, let the show play, let the world outside feel far away for a little while.

Eventually, you muster a "thank you."

Anora doesn’t push for more. She tugs the blanket higher over the both of you, and mutters, "like I said. I gotcha. Whatever you need."

[acaibcwl]

RANCH IN THE SOUTH

cw; retired!beau a. (he’s already a dilf 😝) x young!reader—domestic fluff, suggestive, kissing, blurb

authors note; deep breaths NRNRNDBBDFB. domesticated fluff w retired!beau is all i needed. based off this post. uhm @soldiersgirl tributed to the idea n i fed off it. thank u. also this may sound a li’l arrogant but i think this would make a banger ass series

BEAU had finally put the badge and gun down—and gosh, you were so giddy about it. you’d been pestering him about retiring anyways, to live on a ranch and raise chickens, and sell eggs. to own cows to have milk. you had a whole layout about the hole thing.

if anything; it brought out a side of you that beau had never gotten a chance to see until he retired. he loved whenever you had kicked your legs back in forth on his trailer bed when he told you that buying the ranch was official. it was a look he’s never be able to erase from his head, no matter how much he desired to.

the ranch wasn’t perfect or anything, but all it needed was a little tender, love and care. as well as elbow grease. though the place was a tad run down, but the light in your eyes never faded as they cleaned the little house that came with the barn. you’d picked up a shift at a grocery store to help with the cause to fix the barn up, and beau used his retirement check to contribute. of course their were arguements here and their, but it never stopped either of you from curling up together at night, whispering soft apologies.

couples argued during stressful times. it just took a little bit of effort to push past it. and the two of you did. every single time you did.

you woke up to the smell of bacon. it was almost cartoonish how fast you got up to go get some. though you felt absolutely sluggish from how hard you’d been working for the past month, it was the weekend. their was no reason to push yourself so hard. you were relaxing.

the floorboards creaked under your weight. beau’s southern draw rang in your ears as beau spoke to you, “mornin’, sweetheart. i’was gonna let you rest ‘til i finished breakfast.” you stopped behind him as he flipped the sizzling bacon, your arms wrapping around his torso as you peered over his shoulder to see the bacon. you yawned softly as the bacon curled up on the grittle

“aren’t you a gentleman.” “i think so myself.” he said arrogantly as he picked the bacon of the grittle one by one. it was a small testimony to beau’s deep love and how his yearning grew everyday. despite all the sleepless nights of you two killing bugs (beau was the one doing it all) and in despite all the arguments.

if beau could, he would second handly kill all the bugs on earth for you. he’s buy to fourthly ranches. and you wouldn’t have to work at some sappy grocery store were the only break is the weekend and when you got off. beau turned the gritted off, placing two hands on your hips as he leaned down to kiss you. his breath twinged with this mornings toothpaste, and a spike of last nights beer.

“i could just eat you up.” he whispered into your ear, nipping at your ear softly. it earned a sharp, surprised noise from you. and that was a win in his book.

[sunberies]

“Honey, is he still there?” the purple troll asked her partner as she tried to tuck her egg deeper into her hair. Her partner turned slightly to take a glance at the edge of the clearing, quickly turning back and responding with a sharp “He is.”

As they both stare at each other, the gray troll hidden behind the shrubbery at the clearing edge continues to manically write into his small notepad. His eyes moving back and forth from the couple and his notes.

ok so um, Branch doesn't know how to ask for help with egg care without looking weird or giving away the fact that he has an egg. So, he comes up with the brilliant idea of just 'studying' random trolls in the village. It gets noticed very quickly and Poppy has to go and tell him to stop being a little weirdo and just ask for help.

[shaybae1114]

FULL STORY WILL POST IN PARTS TOMORROW

Thank you @specsthesecond for letting me use your plot idea!

🐊 Crocodile hybrid Sherrif who becomes quite fond of the new outlaw in his town. Every time you outsmart him and get away it just makes his dick harder and his heart beat faster. When he finally catches you, after one hell of a chase, he doesn't drag you to the jailhouse but instead to his home. He's rambling on about how someone so cunning and resourceful would be the perfect mate and how he'll breed you full of his eggs to prove it to you.

Sheriff crocodile x outlaw reader (mild violence) (brief mention of loss) (eggs)

You pulled your hair underneath your black hat looking at the rail cart across from you. In and out. Well that was the plan aslong as the sheriff didn't show up. You had moved into town a couple months ago starting with petty theft to test the waters. Taking a pocket watch here, a womens pendant there. Snatching coin pouches with ease. You had noticed the sheriff of course taking note of all law enforcement in any town you went into. You had dealt with hybrids they where still people just normally faster and with heavy animal features. A crocodile was new to you though. Sheriff Dryeden was a sight. For being what you assumed a cold blooded reptile.

He stood at 12"6' his tail dragged behind him as he walked at 1.8 meters long.  He's a greenish-drab color with black stripes and spots on his body and tail. His underbelly was a almost white color from what you could tell from under his uniform. You found him incredibly attractive with his stupid shiny sheriff badge on his chest, his stupid sheriff hat, and his stupid yellow eyes that almost pierced your soul with ever glance.

The first time he noticed you was when you had stolen a bottle of liquor from the saloon owner. He had been meeting up with the mayor and didn't hesitate to take off after you. Luckily you where incredibly smart and fast on your feet  managing to escape him, you went down an alley way and onto the back of your horse. Dryeden was in shock he'd been a fighter since he was a boy no one had escaped him. As he watched you flee on the back of your horse he felt his heart race for the first time in along time.

He continued trying to catch you. Yet you where always one step ahead managing to avoid getting caught by him. The time you robbed the bank he nearly caught you in the vault but you slid into the crowd unnoticed. When you robbed the mayor's home and escaped on the back of a farmers cart hiding amongst his vegetables.

The more dryeden chased you the more he felt the desire to keep you for himself grow.

  Unfourtantly for you that damn crocodile was fast and smart he was always making it harder for you to get away. It started to seem like he knew what you wanted before you even did. If this town didn't have money, You would have already left town to avoid capture.

But you weren't one to let opportunities slip from your fingers , and that freshly mined gold was calling your name. The last job always being the biggest for you. It should be simple you didn't need the whole cart just a couple nuggets. Using the cover of the night you quietly slid up to the rail cart smiling brightly at the gold. Grabbing a couple nuggets sliding them into your bag you noticed the night had gone quiet.

"Why howdy Sheriff Dryeden." You said smiling turning to face the hybrid.

"I'm not letting you get away this time." He growled his eyes glowing under the lights from the mine shaft.

"What a hoot sheriff we both know you aren't going to catch me. I'm to clever for you." You purred placing your palms flat on the rail cart. As Dryden went to step foward you hoped over the rail cart taking off into the mine shaft.

Dryden pushed the rail cart over with a loud crash taking off after you with a roar. You could hear the pounding of his feet behind you. You cursed feeling the rush of air as his claws barely missed your arm. Taking a sharp turn you nearly avoided running into a empty cart.

Sliding quickly you stumbled as your feet struggled to catch traction. You panicked he was catching up fast. Finally pulling yourself together you barely managed to avoid getting slammed into by the sheriff. As he slammed into the wall the sound from the force rattled the walls. If you didn't get out he might make the mine collapse on you both.

He roared as you picked up speed. You had to find away back to the entrance it was the only way out you knew. Running as fast as you could you noticed that you where coming up on one of the stabilizer beams. You could tell that the sheriff was right behind you.

Quickly as you started to pass the pole you threw your hand out using your speed and momentum to turn you around putting you back in the direction you had come from. The sheriff snarled as he slid on the lose dirt trying to stop himself. He used his tail to try and stabilzize himself during the fall. As his chest sid onto the dirt he reached out with his hand wrapping it tight around your ankle. Yanking you down with him.

Letting out a startled cry that was cut short as your chest slammed into the ground. You kicked your leg back aiming for his face. He quickly caught your leg moving his face aside. Dryden could feel himself pressing against his cloaca what a sight you where! He finally had his claws on you after so many chases. He could hear his heart beating the fastest it every has.

Your ankles where in either hand spread out before him as you struggled to escape his grasp. His eyes focused in on your ass watching it move as you tried to pull your legs free clawing at the dirt in a desperate attempt to break free. He moved himself into a kneeling postion flipping you onto your back. He couldn't help but chuckle at the glare on your face.

"You're under arrest. I've caught you little outlaw so it's best you stop struggling. I'd hate to have to hurt your pretty face." He stated moving one clawed hand to grab your wrist placing the shackles from his belt securely onto you. He slid back down rubbing his snout against your cunt moaning softly at your scent. You glared at his actions pulling on your leg trying to get it free once more.

He pulled you over his shoulder as he stood to his feet. You winced in pain as some of his scutes dug into your stomach.

"Come on sheriff just let me go and I'll leave your town." You pleaded knowing the towns people would have you hanged for your crimes. But the sheriff ignored your pleas exiting the mine.

"I'm not taking you to the jailhouse." He stated you blinked confused.

"Where are you taking me then?" Was he just going to kill you himself. Crocodile hybrid didn't eat humans right?

"To my home. Where I'm going to make you my mate." Dryden was blunt not even trying to hide his intentions.

"What? Why me? I'm an outlaw and your the law!" You cried out. Dryden had noticed that you hadn't said anything about being against him being your mate. Making his crocidle face break into a wide smile.

"Your cunning and resourceful you will be the perfect mate and I'm going breed you full of my eggs to prove it to you." He almost dropped you as the scent of your arousal filled his scense of smell at his words. "See my little outlaw your already readying yourself to take my eggs."

"No way your crazy!" You shouted trying to deny that the thoughts of being breed by the crocodile hybrid hadn't already been flooding your mind since the first day he'd chased you out of the saloon. He continued to ignore your cries and struggles as he made his way to his home. After a decent walk you had finally arrived. Dryden entered his home taking you straight to the nest.

You bounced as he dropped you finally allowing you to see something other then his back. You took in the room it was bright shades of green giving a swampy look.

"You miss home often sheriff."  You said softly. Dragging your hand along the nest he'd dropped you on. The nest was incredibly soft. It was mound-like made from vegetation's mostly tall grasses.

"Yes very often but the nest was made for you." You looked at him with a glare at his statement.

"I'm not gonna keep telling you sheriff you're crazy if you think I'm staying here." He titled his head at you giving you that wide crocodile grin.

"Please little outlaw try to run again I do love chasing you." You scowled at him, he was diffently getting on your nerves.

  "So what are you going to do to me?" You asked your curiosity getting the best of you.

"I'm going to make you my mate. Watch you carry my eggs and keep you full of them so you can never leave myside. You're so wise and capable you're exactly who I've been looking for." He stated with a shrug slipping out of his shirt.

He turned his back as he undid his belt going to slip out of his jeans. You looked at the room entrance and didn't hesitate jumping out of the nest. Dryden groaned in delight he'd been hoping you'd be foolish enough to give him another chase before he breed you. After all once you carried his eggs he couldn't allow you to run.

Quickly turning around he took off after you, chuckling when he noticed you going away from the exit. He smiled deciding he wanted to see how strong of a swimmer you where. He appeared in front of you making you slip and curse. You turned around seeing a door you flung it open and as you stepped inside you fell into what appeared to be a small pond.

"Your nesting room is new. This is my pond though. I miss the water most." He said standing in the doorway watching you calmly.

"I built it myself." He added clearly proud of the pond. If it wasn't for the fact you had just fallen in, you'd notice how beautiful it was.

You were swimming with ease. You learned how to swim in a creek bed when you where 6. Your life had always been hard so alittle water couldn't stop you.

"Well thank you for the fast introduction." You snapped sarcastically. He laughed his reptile eyes almost seeming to have more of a purple color.

"I wanted to see if you could swim. The last thing I'd want is for our offsprings to drown you." He was still giving you that wide smile. You found yourself smiling as well.

"Well you succeeded. I can swim but we won't be having offsprings. The towns people will kill me for my crimes." You where cornered and need to convince Dryeden to let you leave.

"We don't have to worry about that I made it very clear to the mayor that once we are mated you will return everything you took. I also already paid for the  liquor you stole." As he spoke he slid into the water. "It's to dangerous for me to take you in the water so let's go back to your nest and dry off." He was slowly swimming towards you. You knew very well how fast he was on land in this pond. His pond you didn't stand a chance.

But still you'd be dammed if you just gave in to him. You were patiently waiting for Dryeden to swim closer to you. Just as he reached out to pull you into his chest. You divided underneath him making a break for the doorway.

Dryeden groaned feeling his cock pushing on his cloaca begging to be released to breed his mate. Taking off after you he quickly caught up wrapping his arms around your small frame. He easily carried you out of the water pressed tightly to his chest.

"My sweet mate no more chasing." He growled. You currently where clinging to him as he walked.

"I'm not returning my stuff!" You shouted starting to struggle again. He snarled at your words bringing his hand down rough on your ass. You squeaked at the sudden strike going rigid. "Did you just spank me?" You hissed out.

"I did my little outlaw and I plan on making your cute ass red until you agree to return the items you took." He slid into your nesting room and set you down on your feet keeping one clawed hand tight on your arm. "I'm going to let go don't run I'm done chasing you I will take you wherever I catch you next. So if you don't want you clothes ripped to shreds remove them now." You glared at his words and began to undress not wanting to ruin your clothes for when you try to run again.

He gave that crocidle smile that you where starting to fall in love with noticing that the purple in his eyes showed everytime he smiled at you.

"You are absolutely a site to behold my darling Lantana." He moaned out taking in the site of your naked body. He stepped foward dragging his hands along your soft flesh. He groaned as he closed his hand around one of your breast. Using his clawed fingers to roll and pinch at your nipples loving the site of them hardening thanks to him. He drew back his hand landing another solid hit to your ass. This one made you yelp jumping alittle closer him.

He used the opportunity to pull you against his chest. Your hardened nipples rubbing against his scales. You let out a soft moan at the feeling. He slid down to a almost bowing postion resting the underside of his head on the top of yours.

"I'll take care of you. We could protect the town together. You'll never want or need anything again. I'll keep you safe, full, and loved. Please my Lantana say yes. Say you chose me to." He begged running his hand thru your hair and down your back. Applying just enough pressure to have you trembling but not enough to do any harm by his claws.

  Gentle you placed your arms around his side placing a soft kiss to his scaled chest.

"Yes Dryeden I want to be your mate." You whispered against him as you trailed kisses along anywhere you could reach.

"You speak the truth little outlaw?" He whinned his grip tightening.

"You'll return everything you took?" He asked hesitating.

"I speak the truth Dryeden. I'll return everything I took. I like the thought of staying with you no more running and hiding." You where afraid. You'd been an outlaw since a child but the thought of living in comfort and stability with Dryeden made your heart race.

"Ah my sweet Lantana!" He cries in delight. Pulling back he looked down at you. At the soft look on his face you placed a soft kiss on his nose. He whinned in need. Lefting you up with ease he placed you on the nest hovering above you.

  You smiled brightly at him and it was as though his world had caved in. You were his everything. His heart, his soul if you had refused to give up being an outlaw he'd have joined you and you didn't even know it.

"Well Sherrif are you going to mate me or just stare at me." You teased. This time when you looked into his eyes it was a mix between purple and red. As you went to ask him he opened his mouth just enough to stick his tongue down your throat. You whinned as he kissed you deep. The feeling of his tongue in your mouth making you wet. He pulled back a almost soft frown on his face.

"We will have to practice kissing my mate I feel as though I'm just fucking your pretty throat with my tongue." He said a hint of annoyance in his voice as he stared down at your lips. You burst into laughter you'd had never felt such joy before.

"We will have plenty of time to practice everything." You whispered kissing along the scales on his neck. He shuddered at the feeling of you playing with one if the scutes that trailed down his spine.

He pulled back dragging his clawed hands along your body as he reached your stomach you flinched. One of his claws had nicked your stomach. He froze licking the blood off your stomach.

"I'll file my nails down more later for now this will have to do." He said, biting off the nails of his index finger and middle finger. Gently dragging one of his fingers along your clit. You moaned at the feeling. Trailing off into a whine as the finger slid into your eager opening. "I have to stretch you for my cock or you'll never take all of me." He growled adding in the second finger sliding his thumb onto your clit. You moaned at the feeling of his scaled fingers stretching you.

"Oh little outlaw your such a site your pretty pussy clenching around my fingers. Shes soaking me wanting to be stuffed full with my cock." You cried out at his words your back arching as he pushed his fingers in deeper. It felt like he was searching for something within your needy cunt.

Your eyes rolled back and let out a silent sound as he pushed onto your g-spot. He growled in delight focusing on that spot while rubbing his thumb in circles on your clit. He continued to fuck you with his fingers. Rotating between pressing against your g-spot and scissoring you as wide open as he could.

"Your getting close my Lantana I can feel how tight you are getting  around my fingers. Cum for me my precious flower." With a cry you came undone on his fingers back arching as he worked you through your orgasam.

"Dreyden please I need you." You whinned reaching out to your mate. Pouting as Dreyden shook his head at you.

"You have to cum atleast two more times to make sure you dont get hurt taking my cock and eggs." He huffed sliding down to place himself between your legs. You looked at him taking in the look on his face. He was enchanting. The look of pure desire written on his face. He gave you that crocodile smile. Opening his mouth and snapping his teeth at the fingers you'd allowed to pet his nose.

"If your going to make me cum again what are you doing all the way down there?" You asked teasing. Dreyden chuckled at your words. He lowered himself more making sure his hands where tight on your waist. You watched as he opened his mouth wide clamping his teeth against your stomach. The feeling of his breath against your cunt made you whimper. Dreyden dragged his tongue along your ass slowly pushing his tongue inside of your clenching cunt.  He whimpered at the taste of your juices.

Your eyes rolled back as you let out a whine. His tongue was as large as a cock and stretching you wide. You looked back down at him your fingers digging into the nest. Dreyden took in every sound, move, and look that you made. His teeth clamped tight enough to draw blood as he slowly moved his tongue inside of you.

He stroked the inside of your cunt with his thick tongue. You trembled as he started to get more aggressive. Increasing the pace of his tongue as he began to feast.

You tasted better then anything he'd ever tasted he'd decided he could live between your legs if you'd let him. Living only off of the taste of you. 

You couldn't take your eyes off of Dreyden. He was lazily moving his tongue inside of your core. Feasting upon you as though you where the last fruit standing in this awful desert.

You gently places your hand on the tip of his nose moaning softly. You pathetically tried to role your hips to receive more friction, but couldn't move an inch between Dreyden's jaw holding you in place and his hands gripping your thighs.

Dreyden groaned deciding to take mercy upon both of you. He snarled using his strength to fuck your body onto his tongue. He knew he should make you come one more time after this but he couldn't take it anymore he needed to be inside of you.

He listened to your sweet sounds as you came on his tongue flooding his senses with the taste and the scent of your release. You felt tears falling down your face Dreyden had already made you cum twice and you knew he intended to do it again.

"Please Dreyden I want you to breed me now." You sniffled hoping to convince your new mate to have pity on your overstimulated mind.

"Aww my poor Lantana. As you wish I'll fill you up with my eggs now." He smirked down at you moving himself back to give you a view of his cloaca. You licked your lips following him into a sitting postion. As you gently trailed the outer lips of his cloaca, Dreyden growled his pupils dilating like a predator ready to pounce on its prey.

"My Lantana lay your hand out flat for me." He moaned. You were quick to do as he asked.

Eyes widening as his huge cock slid past the barrier of his cloaca landing right into your open palm. You took in the site of his cock nothing like a humans. He had to be atleast 15in if not more. His cock was covered in small ridges that almost reminded you of his scutes. And the tip was more open clearly to allow his eggs out.

"So male hybrids can produce eggs and sperm?" You asked curious as you continued to explore his cock with your hands.

"Really little one? You wish to ask questions now?" He asked. Closing his jaw tight with a sharp inhale as swirled your finger around the opening.

"Yes. I want to know." You stated. Dreyden noticed your guard was climbing up as you continued to look at his cock.

"We will take it slow My Lantana. There is no need for you to be afraid." He snarled grabbing your hand.

"Please Dreyden just tell me really quick. I'm a human we aren't normally suppose to carry eggs." You whinned looking him in the eyes his eyes. He sighed.

"If it will bring you comfort I'll explain it. Yes the males of my kind carry both eggs and sperm. The eggs begin to form when we find someone who we select as a perfect mate. My sperm will help adjust your body to aid you in carrying our eggs." He huffed out his half hearted explanation. Once you were carrying his eggs he'd teach you everything you could possibly wish to know.

Dreyden pushed you back down using his strength to flip you onto your stomach. He cupped his hand around your belly partially to keep you stable but mostly because he wanted to feel you swelling with his eggs.

You whinned as Dreydens cock dragged along your folds seeking out the entrance to your wipping cunt. He pulled back taking his cock into his free hand he slowly slid the tip into you.

He growled as he took his time slowly pushing inch by inch into your clenching cunt. As he hit half way in, he dropped himself down using one hand to keep his weight off you. All while incasing your body with his own. Keeping his other hand cupped tight against your stomach his claws digging in just enough to bring you a light pain amongst all the pleasure.

"Your so tight around me my Lantana. I can feel ever ripple of your sweet little pussy as she begs for me to stuff her full." He moaned out pushing himself in deeper. You where a whimpering mess beneath him letting out moans everytime he pushed himself in more. As he found that he couldn't go any deeper he let out a annoyed rumble.

Pulling himself out he flipped you onto your back smiling at the site of you. Your hair was a mess and your pupils had expanded. Soft sounds left your lips as you reached out to him.

"Bite into my scales." He ordered. He dragged the side of his mouth along your head. Letting some of his canines scratch along the top of your ear. You moaned biting down lightly onto his chest. "Oh sweet heart your going to bite harder then that."

He pushed the tip of his cock in. You let out a cry biting down onto hard onto his chest. He thrusted all the way into your cunt. You could truly feel him now he was pressed right into your cervix the ridges on his cock gently rubbing against your g spot. Dreyden started with slow shallow thurst allowing you to stretch around him. Your fingers dug into his back while your teeth tried to pierce his scales.

You felt tears falling down your face in full force as Dreyden began to move faster. His rough pace rubbing your chest along his own. He pounded into your poor cunt finally pulling back to hear your sweet cries.

"Your crying my Lovely Mate. Yet I won't stop. The site of your pretty little pussy clenching around my cock is all I'll ever think about again." He snarled watching the way your stomach bulged with every thrust.

"Your so good taking my cock so well. I can't wait for you to cum all over my cock and swallow my eggs into your womb." He growled dragging your leg up against his side pushing himself in deeper. You let out only what could be described as a high pitch whine. As you began to coat his cock with your cum. Dreyden let out a growl.

"That's it. My Lantana your cumming so hard for me." He moaned continuing with his brutal pace.

"Dreyden! Please I need just a second." You sobbed trying to wiggle away from him. You where to sensitive and Dreyden wasn't letting up.

"It's to much for you is it? My poor girl, I won't be stopping tell your womb is heavy with my eggs." He growled pulling you up to push deeper and rub your clit against the softer scales on his abdomen.

"Ah I could keep you cumming on my cock." He moaned rocking his hips slowly giving you a moment to catch your breath. You let out soft moans as he slowly rocked his hips keeping his eyes on you.

"That's it beautiful relax on my cock I can't have you so upset and tense when I fill you up." He cooed at you wiping the tears from your cheeks with his large hand. You nuzzled his palm sniffling from the tears you had shed. Dreyden let a couple minutes pass tell the ripples of your climax dulled down to soft clenches. Softly biting your lip you looked at your mate.

"Oo..okay.. Dreyden. . I think I'm ready. I want your eggs." You whimpered out nibbling on your lip. He nodded starting back up with some soft shallow thrust. Building up into a rougher pace.

He began to brutally pound against your cervix listening only to your sweet cries as his eggs began to push against his cloaca. It was time for him to fill you up.

He pulled back almost slipping out ,before thrusting back down roughly. This allowed the head of his cock to slip into your cervix giving his eggs access to your womb.

You tensed up almost trying to pull away as unfamiliar pressure began at the entrance of your cunt. You closed your eyes grinding your teeth. You felt the first egg work it's way up to your cervix before it pushed it's way inside settling against the wall of your womb. You moaned softly trembling trying to pull away as the next egg began to make it's way.

"Don't fight it Lantana, you doing such a good job for me. Already holding one of our eggs you can take the rest." He whispered trying his best to keep you at easy. He reached down using one clawed thumb to play with your clit as the second egg entered your womb. You moaned once again feeling tears fall down your face.

How could something feel so incredible yet uncomfortable at the same time. Dreyden rocked his hips watching your tight cunt swallow his eggs as they pushed there way inside. He swallowed,  your belly was beginning to swell as the third egg had made its way inside.

"Dreyden... how many eggs are there?" You whimpered eyes sliding closed as the eggs continued to make there way inside.

"My eggs have been forming since we meet at the saloon my little outlaw. I'm guessing atleast six." He grunted out thrusting a little deeper to adjust the eggs already resting inside of you. You whinned out at his actions cracking your eyes open enough to glare at him.

"We are only at three right now My Lantana. You can only take one egg at a time." You looked at him feeling a little annoyed at his words.

"All I can feel is you and the eggs." You whimpered rocking your own hips. Feeling the fourth and fifth egg push there way in.

He groaned the sixth was the biggest he could fell his own cloaca struggling with the size.

"My little Lantana this last egg is big. You have to stay calm. Once its inside ill make you cum again. " He whispered nuzzling against your chest. At the pressure forming inside your cunt you knew his words to be true. The other eggs had been uncomfortable but this egg was thick spreading you open even wider on Dreydens cock.

"Dreyden. I can't." You sobbed out trying to wiggle away from him and the egg.

"You have to be a good girl and take it." He snarled grabbing your hips and thrusting himself foward. You whinned shaking your head as the pressure intensified.

You wanted to do nothing more then to make Dreyden proud of you for being able to carry all his eggs. Plus the thought of one of your eggs not making it because of you broke your heart. So half heartdly you rolled your hips back taking the egg and Dreydens cock deeper.

"There we go. Look at that so spread open for me so willing to push yourself to take all my eggs." He cooed spreading your lips open to get a better view of his cock being swallowed up by your cunt. As the final egg pushed into your womb you let out a broken sob sinking your teeth into your own hand. Dreyden reached out wipping away at your tears.

"Shhh, your okay it's all the way in now sweet." He cooed licking at your knuckles.  As you settled your head onto his chest breathing slowing he chuckled.

"We aren't done yet My Lantana your gonna cum one more time so I can fertilize our eggs." He purred rocking his hips.

He settled into a steady pace allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder. Slowly thrusting into you. You where already worn out and he wanted to let you rest. Appling more pressure to your clit and giving a couple more thrust he smiled as you came.

He growled as he pulled back to take in the site of his beautiful mate. Your stomach bloated with his eggs your face covered in tears. Dreyden came at the site coating your womb and his eggs with seed. He moaned giving shallow thurst to keep the cum pushed into your cunt.

Dreyden finally pulled out after a couple minutes. Slowly watching as thick glops of his cum slid out of your cunt. He slowly pushed the cum back  feeling inside your cunt to make sure the eggs where being held safely.

"You did such a good job!My beautiful Lantana all six of our eggs are safely in your womb." He said rubbing his face against your swollen belly. You slowly touched your own stomach feeling the eggs.

"Six babies?" You whispered in awe.

"Yes six! Ill keep you full of my cum for the next 90 days then we will lay the eggs so they can hatch on there own." He stated his eyes shinning with excitment. He had found his perfect mate. You would now be his forever nothing would take you from him.

[flemingology]

sparks and spokes ─ jessie fleming x reader

in which: jessie's unlucky flat tire leads to an unexpected connection

warnings: none

wc: 1.9K

a/n: this might be a bit unrealistic, considering the timeline of events in this. but let's ignore it. based on this request! hope you enjoy it.

Ever since making her big move to Portland, Jessie had found her love for biking again. She hadn't particularly lost it while playing in London, but it's safe to say that it wasn't the easiest city to navigate, especially not during rush hour. In Oregon, Jessie felt a bit more comfortable on her bike so once she got the all-clear from her coach and was allowed to ride her bike to home games and training sessions, she'd never arrived by car again.

After a first few weeks of settling into her new place, she ventured out to the bike store a couple minutes from her apartment. After a couple minutes of looking around without purpose, she spoke to an employee who picked out the perfect bike for her. A black, slightly more sporty type of bike is what she went for in the end. She also got a helmet, a lock and a pair of spare bike lights, all set to explore Portland on two wheels.

It was gameday today, lunch time kick-off, so Jessie went through her usual morning routine. Waking up at 8, doing some light stretching before jumping in the shower. She made herself breakfast – eggs on toast, as usual – and a coffee, which she kept in her travel mug to keep with her throughout the day. By 10 she was out the door, double, triple checking she had everything with her in her bag. She was a forgetful person, but couldn't afford to miss out on anything today. Especially seen as she rode her bikes to games these days, she couldn't just quickly drive back to her apartment in case she had forgotten something.

Jessie unlocked her bike that she parked in the bike shed last night. She had gone out for an evening ride after the 5pm rush had relented, enjoying the slight breeze that was blowing through her curls. Autumn was around the corner in Portland, framing the city in a hue of yellow, red and orange. Jessie biked around aimlessly for a little hour before going home and getting in bed early, making sure she got her 9 hours of sleep.

She wasn't this lucky this morning, even though the initial morning rush had passed, 10am wasn't particularly forgiving either on the roads. She rode her bike out of her apartment complex and hit the streets, expertly manoeuvring herself through the busy roads of Portland, trying to make it to her game in time.

She didn't notice it at first, but the moment Jessie felt like she was riding on metal rather than on rubber gave away that something was wrong. The Canadian silently cursed and made her way onto the pavement, getting off her bike and quickly checking the deflating front tire. "Shit", she mumbled. She must have biked over something sharp that was laying around on the bike line, without noticing. The tire had fallen completely flat, Jessie's attempt at feeling whether there was any air left only aiding in letting it run empty.

She tried not to panic while mentally assessing what her options were. She could lock her bike up here and walk the rest of the way, but she would certainly be late. She contemplated calling an Uber, but by the time the driver would've navigated his way through Portland traffic, there's no way she would make it in time. Jessie ran her hands across her face and sighed deeply. After a couple moments she grabbed her phone, which she had neatly tucked away in her backpack, and started dialing coach's number to let him that she would most likely be late for warm-ups.

Her finger hovered over the call button when she felt someone tap on her shoulder, slightly jumping up at the surprising touch. Jessie's head twisted to the side and noticed someone standing behind her, cheeks equally flushed and hair just as disheveled as hers – Jessie assumed you were out for a run, considering the sporty attire. She turned her body towards you and cocked her head to the side, expecting you to speak up.

You were still catching your breath as you tried to form a sentence. "Hi," you started. "I noticed that you were struggling with your bike," you took a deep breath and tried to control your heartbeat, having abruptly stopped your run to help out the stranger that seemed to be in a bit of trouble. Jessie's cheeks flushed again, not due to the breeze this time. "I don't know how much time you have but I live two minutes down the road and I'm pretty sure I've got a spare laying around in the garage."

You had to catch your breath again, creating an awkward silence between the two of you as neither spoke. You cocked your head at the freckled girl in front of you, expecting a reply. Seemingly she noticed, because she cleared her throat and spoke up. "Uhm, yeah," she rubbed her hands off on her sweatpants. "I'm in a bit of a rush, though," Jessie said nervously. Her heartbeat was still racing, unsure whether it was caused by the biking or by the girl that was standing in front of her.

"You stay here, I'll get a run on it and get you that tire. I'll be back in max 5," before Jessie could quip anything back you'd already set off towards your apartment.

True to your word, you made it back to Jessie and her bike in 4 minutes. If you were out of breath when you first spoke to her, you surely were now. You didn't say much, instead getting to work on her bike immediately. You'd have a bit more decency on another day, but knowing the girl was in a rush you thought this was the better approach. Jessie felt a bit helpless, chiming in every now and then to see if she could help but ultimately she took a step back and let you do your thing, her interrupting probably only prolonging the process.

A couple moments later you stood back up from your kneeling position, dusted off your hands on your top and took a step back, sparing another look at the new front tire you had just put on the bike. "That'll do, I think. Should get you where you want to be."

Jessie clasped her hands in front of her and braved a look at you, locking eyes. "Thank you so much, honestly," she felt warmth creeping up her cheeks when you shot her a wide smile.

"Not a bother. Honestly. I needed to get rid of that tire anyway. I hope it doesn't give out too soon, seen as it's been lying around my garage for a good couple months."

Jessie nodded, clearly unsure of what her next step should be. She rocked back and forth from her heels to her tippy-toes before clearing her throat and finding eye contact with you once again. "Jessie," she started, but frowned. "My name. My name is Jessie", she said, cursing herself about how awkward she was being. You didn't seem to mind, though, sporting a toothy grin when she finished her sentence.

"Well, nice to meet you Jessie. I'm Y/N."

She stuck out a hand which you eagerly shook, as you allowed yourself to take in her features, not having had a chance to properly look at her before. She was slightly shorter than you, curly hair framing a freckled and defined face. She was wearing a matching tracksuit, telling you she was probably on her way to a sporting event. Her lips were slightly chapped, the first autumn breeze clearly already leaving it's traces behind on the Portland residents.

Unbeknownst to you Jessie was doing the same, her eyes taking you in and maybe even losing track of time a little, forgetting that she should've been on her way to the stadium already.

She let go of your hand that she kept in a handshake for embarrassingly long, clearing her throat before speaking. "Okay, I should go. I'm running late already," she put her helmet back on and threw one of her legs over the bike saddle. "I owe you one. Big time."

You waved away Jessie's words and bid her a final goodbye, smiling to yourself at the heartfelt interaction you just shared with the stranger. You walked the rest of your way back home with an extra spring in your step, fueled by the brown-haired Canadian you had no idea was now on her way to play football in America's highest league.

Later that night, you catch yourself thinking back on what happened earlier that day. The handshake that lingered, her eyes scanning your face and her flushed cheeks whenever your eyes locked – you couldn't get your mind off the girl.

You knew her name was Jessie, but that didn't get you far. A bit of mindless scrolling through profiles of Jessie's near you didn't give you any clues. Suddenly, you thought back at the clothes she was wearing. You'd noticed the red badge adorning both the pants and the hoodie. You started a google search of Portland sports teams until you came across a badge that looked exactly like the one Jessie was sporting, and your jaw fell slack.

As much as you liked your running, you knew nothing about other sports. Especially not football. You'd never really understood the appeal to it, not finding it entertaining enough to sit down for 90+ minutes and watch 22 people run after a ball. You quickly made your way over to the social media of the Portland Thorns, still not really believing that you'd encountered a famous footballer a couple hours ago and neither you or her spoke a word about that.

A bit of clueless scrolling later you found yourself checking the score of the game that had been played a couple hours earlier, surprised at a certain 'Jessie Fleming' being on the scoresheet. You figured as much, but you were still taken aback when you looked her name up and saw the person you gave your spare tire to merely hours ago.

Your hands felt clammy all of a sudden, nerves spiking up about how you could approach this. You certainly wanted to hear of her again. Even though she said she owed you one, you figured that with a busy schedule, repaying you might not be on the top of her list.

A couple nervous minutes later, you had found Jessie's instagram. You scrolled through her posts, mindful not to like any posts or do anything that would give away that you were stalking her socials. As little as there was on the account, you could see a bit of personality seeping through. She clearly loved taking pictures, liked nature, seemingly had a dog and just seemed fun to be around. You rubbed one of your hands across your face, contemplating your options.

Jessie arrived home late that night, having stayed at Sinc's for dinner after the game. She parked her bike in the bike shed and quickly made her way upstairs, desperate to be enveloped in the warmth of her own home again. She unlocked the door and threw her keys in the basket on the counter. She took off her shoes and neatly put them in their place on the shoe rack, her slight clean-freak personality shining through once again.

She slumped down on the couch and turned on Netflix for her umpteenth rewatch of a brainless show, before grabbing her phone from her pocket. Her eyes grew wide at the top notifications.

Y/I/N started following you.

Y/I/N: So, a footballer huh? Nice one, Fleming ;)

A/N: I hate the use of Y/N but I couldn't really get around it this time lol

[lucius-i-ran]

"Where's the mud, Nico?" 

Nico took a moment of silence to understand if Percy was fucking with him. When he saw the dead serious expression carved onto his friends's face he started looking around, searching for black mold or something similar that might have warranted (almost) perfectly sane Percy to get him one sandwich short of a picnic. 

"What?" 

Percy picked up on Nico's absolute bewilderment 

"When I was little I was obsessed with mud, you know? but you understand that there's is not much to be found in a condo right in the center of New York City, right?" Nico nodded. "Before my mom could understand that she could not leave me home alone, she used to go to work and like clockwork, as soon as she stepped out of the house, I would walk no- run to the kitchen sink. With at least three toilet rolls, a gallon of water, eggs and some undetected 'son of Posidon' magic I would create mud-" 

Nico imagined little Percy, tiptoeing to the kitchen skin, hands deep in his infernal poultice and forced himself to swallow a laugh.

"-Of course, I was a fucking menace but I wasn't stupid so as soon as I understood that if I was to wash that away, the sink would clog and my mom had to phone that smelly brute of the plumber to repair our sink again, I would absolutely go bananas-" 

Nico felt the side of his lips quivered as a less amused, smaller Nico tried to desperately kick a laugh down his throat. 

"-And in my paniked, eight year-old brain-"

"You were eight??" 

Percy was stone cold serious and Nico was trying really, really hard.

"I'm sorry, please keep going" 

"I'm giving you classified information di Angelo, you should be grateful" 

"I am" Oh, he was.

"Anyway," Percy gave him a sharp look "the most brilliant idea I could come up with was to hide it in a random point of the house. And somehow, my mom always knew. She says I had got this panicked, adorably guilty look on my face so she would ask: 'where's the mud, Percy?' " 

"What has this got to do with anything?" 

"I've never had the pleasure of looking myself in the mirror right after hiding the mud, but if I had to guess, I'd say you have the same guilty look in your eyes. So, where's the mud, Nico?" 

And Nico realised just how grateful, truly grateful he was Percy told him about the mud.

It was like it closed a gap between them. Like the first brick for the bridge was placed, the first thread of a connection and Nico was glad Percy had been the first one to wove it.

"If I tell you where's the mud" Nico's voice trembled and he took a moment to decide if it was from the tension or the ridiculous thing he just said "Will you promise me not to be angry at me?" 

"Do you think my mother never got angry when I hid the mud?" 

Nico lowered his head and shook it, tracing small circles in the sand with his hand.

"Exactly, but I was still her son and she still loved me" Percy turned, slightly squinting, the sun hurting his eyes "I'm 98% sure you're not my son, Nico, but you're still my friend. A good one, and I'll still love you." he turned face first into the sun again, closing his eyes, basking in the warmth. "There are worse things that you could do than hiding mud, Nico." that conversation was getting out of hand. "You already did, actually" 

Nico looked hurt "Hey.." 

"You sold me to your father for informations" 

"I was twelve"

"And I've never held that against you" 

"Oh, haven't you?" 

"Point is" Percy shook his head "I'm still here, talking to you. I went all the way to Rome to save your sorry ass, so I can confidently say that what you're about to tell me will not strike a dent in the affection I have for you" 

"Really?" 

Percy shrugged "Sure, I might get mad, but I'll get over it in a couple of days. Weeks if it's really that bad. But I can promise you I won't try to strangle you this time. Maybe" 

They looked at each other. Man, Nico was glad Percy was so.. Percy. Shiteating grin and all.

"I'm scared" Nico's voice got tiny, almost a whisper. 

"Why?" 

"Because. This-" he gestured a flat hand between them "-dynamic that we have is already as weird as it can get. What if this is the breaking point?"

"Nico" Percy's voice got firm and kind of dark all of a sudden. It made Nico feel like he was getting scolded by his father. "The only thing you could say to really get me not to talk to you for at least twenty years is that somehow you managed to wipe blue food coloring from existence" then his voice softened "Besides, I really have to go to the bathroom so you either get this over with or I'm pissing off some tree nymphs and trust me, you don't wanna see that"

In normal circumstances Nico would've rolled his eyes and laughed, but in that moment he couldn't even get something similar to a colic-induced smile to grow on his face.

He swallowed the lump forming in his throat. Or at least, he tried to. 

"The reason I acted the way I did years ago wasn't because of Bianca" Great start, Nico. "I mean- it was, for a while. But then I realised I wasn't angry anymore. Not at you or Bianca, at least, but at myself"

Percy nodded thoughtfully. 

"I didn't hate you" a pause.

"Well.. that wasn't that bad" 

"No, you don't understand, Percy. I didn't hate you"

Silence. 

"I don't get it" 

And Nico had to suppress a curse. How in the earth and heavens below did he ever get a crush on this moron. He felt his cheeks burning with anger and humiliation and Cupid laughing at him, all the way from Croatia. He mentally sent a message to him: kill yourself.

"I- I had- oh gods. I loved you!" 

"I would sure hope so! Do you know how much it takes to go from California to Italy?"

Nico had to channel all of the discipline the nuns taught him in elementary school not to rip Percy's hair out, make a wig out of it, put it on his head and start running around camp screaming  'Look at me! I'm Percy Jackson and I'm oblivious as shit '

He straightened himself up and got to his knees, almost pleading for at least two of Percy's braincells to have a conversation about something that wasn't the nautical distance between San Fran fucking cisco and Rome. 

"For the sake of all that's good and pure, Percy. I had a crush on you! I was head over heels! Smitten! I fell for you. And I carried the damn torch up until last summer!" 

Silence. Nico eased his breath, collected his thoughts and sat back down, just processing how damn stupid he had been.

"That's why I was such a brat. Always distant and- and" he sighed "That's why I kept running away. I couldn't even look at you because it reminded me that I was different. That I wasn't cut out for love. It was killing me" 

Silence.

"I'm sorry. I promise it's all over now, it has been for a while. It wasn't even love probably, just you know-" big, fat tears welled up in Nico's eyes "I'm sorry, Percy" he whispered. 

He let them fall, silently and warm, striking his cheeks. Looking straight ahead of him, all of his confidence and courage leaving his body to find someone less problematic. Someone who wouldn't tie all chances of a friendship to a boulder, put it on his shoulders and dive into the sea to drown with them. 

Percy got up but Nico didn't even dare to take a glance in his direction. He heard his steps getting closer and wished that the son of Poseidon would yell at him or beat him up rather than doing nothing at all. That would kill him.

Fortunately, Percy wasn't Nico and had a secret fourth box in his list of Nico's Coming Out reactions.

He sat. Much closer this time.

He scooted over.

He wrapped an arm around Nico's shoulders.

He held him tight. 

And Nico, that up to that point had been absolutely mangling his lower lip trying to kill his sobs, couldn't help but bury himself in the crook of his neck and cry.

All those years of anxiety ridden nights, of buried feelings and humilation. He let them slide down with his tears, swiping them away with the back of his hand, thinking about nothing but the arms that were embracing him. Welcoming, warm, shielding. Familiar, just like the ones that Bianca used to give him. The ones that now he gave to Hazel.

And it was quiet all over again, occasional sniffling and soft sobbing playing along with the leaves to break the silence. 

They stayed like that for a good ten minutes.

Percy's hold kept steady, trying not to rush him.

Nico eventually lifted his head and immediately getting embarrassed for the wet splotch he left on Percy's shirt. His mind was quick to come up with something to distract him from it. 

"You're not my type anyway"

Percy was the first to yell out his laugh and Nico galdly followed, stopping only when the nymphs nearby peeped their heads through the branches and trunks to check that whatever animals were doing those horrible screeching noises were okay, then rolling their eyes realising they were just two demigods who had officially lost the plot.

They eventually caught their breaths.

"Totally a blow below the belt" Percy 'socked' him in the arm. 

"And I'm totally using that mud story against you"

"Well I'm sorry for you but the egg is on your face. The Stolls beat you to it and found my mother's number, somehow. They got her to spill all the embarrassing details" 

"What do you mean 'got her'? Sally Jackson enjoyed every second of it and you know that"

An hysterical fit of laughter was threatening to break loose but Percy was quick to change the subject. "So who is your type?"

And in real Apollo kid style, Will Solce made his grand entrance off camera, yelling with the might of a thousand chihuahuas: 

"C'mon di Angelo! Three days in the infirmary started five hours ago! Chop Chop!" 

"Yup, definitely not you're type"