#lapins (prompts)

[fangirlingpuggle]

So after latest time quangle just imagining Lapin as Ayda's stepdad. Just Ayda and Lapin and interacting and talking magic. Lapin reining in Arthur's more chaotic ideas. Him chilling at the library through most of the time being the one to look after it for Ayda while she's off on an adventure with Fig.

Also just in this timeline Fabian and Pete having an inter dimensional beef. These 2 using huge magic and spells to break through dimensions just to call the other a bitch.

[ph0enixart]

shipping lapin/arthur aguefort was not on my 2024 bingo card

[macabre-divinity]

"Welcome to the Rosewood Tea Shop."

The woman who greets you at the door, presumably the owner, regards you with a kind smile, though you can't see her teeth. Her apron is white with flowers printed on it.

The shop itself has a cosy air to it, shelves stocked nearly to the ceiling with boxes of teabags. Each display has a clear glass teapot over a small, contained fire, filled with the tea it displays. Beside those teapots are sugar bowls and little disposable cups, the stack propping up a sign that states that customers may try the tea, free of charge.

The walls are painted a lighter shade of beige, the tablecloths on the display tables all a gorgeous shade of crimson. The shelves are of dark brown oak.

"Are you looking for anything in particular or are you here to taste-test?"

————————————————————————

Name: Birta Cheung

Pronouns: She/her

Age: 115

DoB: 12/10/1909

PoB: Húsavík, Iceland

Height: 6'0"

————————————————————————

Rules & Guidelines

[leclerc-hs]

a smut where you and Charles aren’t together but he likes you and found out you fucked another driver?

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader summary: in which you and your best friend have always been oddly close OR charles fucks you hard on your couch warnings: 18+, smut under the cut!!!, angst??, bad french translation, not proofread!!!! word count: ~3.4k author's note: hi not sure if this is exactly what you wanted but this is what i came up with :) xoxo

“Votre relation n’est pas normale.” Your relationship is not normal. Camille murmured softly as she reached over your shoulder, her fingers grazing the wooden bar as she retrieved her drink.

Confusion etched itself across your face, a tapestry of furrowed brows and wide, searching eyes. “On es tamis depuis tojours.” We’ve been friends since forever. You shrug your shoulders with a small smile. “It’s normal.”

“He’s all over you. Constantly.” You watch her eyes wander over to Charles, seated at the table invested in conversation with the rest of your friends. “Even when he’s not with you, he’s checking on you every second he can.”

Your stomach flutters with a cascade of butterflies at the very mention. Yet, it didn’t matter. You were friends. You let out a soft laugh, brushing off her words as you take a leisurely sip of your drink. 

“It means nothing, Cami.” You state. “Besides, I may or may not have hooked up with Lando last week.”

Camille’s fingers deliver a gentle but affection smack of your shoulder, her eyes sparkling in mischief as she gasps in amusement, the sound of her laughter ringing with a warm, melodic tone.

“Mauvaise fille!” Bad girl!

“We were drunk.”

“Was it any good at least?”

A faint, approving smile tugs at the corners of your lips, a silent acknowledgment of the pleasure. Camille responds with another tender, playful tap to your shoulder. 

“We agreed it was a one time thing only though.” You catch the bartender’s eye behind Camille and give a subtle, practiced nod, signaling for a much-needed refill.

“Qu’est-ce qu’une chose unique?” What’s a one-time thing?

You jump, slightly startled by the ambush. His voice warm.

“Rien.” Nothing. You glance over at the bartender, who has already forgotten about your request for a refill. Charles, noticing your empty glass and the delay, quickly catches the bartender’s eye with a decisive wave. Within moment, he efficiently arranges your drink to be refilled, ensuring its back in your hand in less than a minute.

“All better now, ma lapin?” My bunny. You turn your head to look at him, and a radiant smile spreads across your lips, lighting up your expression with warmth and affection.

Across from you, Camille stifles a snort, her amusement barely contained. The sound prompts you to narrow your eyes at her, a mix of curiosity and mild irritation flickering in your gaze.

Charles casually mentions that he’s heading back to the table, but before he goes, he rests his hand lightly on the small of your back, his touch warm and reassuring.

He leans in, his breath tickling your ear as he murmurs softly, “Take it easy tonight, yeah?”

The intimate proximity and his gentle tone sends a soothing shiver down your spine. You nod in acknowledgment, and with a final, lingering look that seems to convey both care and encouragement, he turns and makes his way back to the table.

“He’s so gone for you.”

-

The sun blazes high and fierce, casting a bright glare over the padel court. The air is thick and hot, and it wraps around Charles as he steps off the court for a water break.

Charles can feel the sweat beginning to bead on his brow, trickling down his face as he grabs a towel to wipe his face.

The players around him, equally drenched and exhausted.

Carlos twists the cap of his water bottle with a soft, satisfying pop, the cool hiss of escaping air mingling. As he takes a refreshing sip, he looks over at Charles with a casual yet intrigued expression. His eyes, bright with curiosity, as he casually asks, “What are you doing tonight?”

Charles tosses his sweat-soaked towel onto the bench with a practiced flick, the fabric landing in a damp heap. He then runs his hands down his drenched shirt, attempting to absorb some of the perspiration clinging to his skin. The fabric clings to him, darkened and heavy with sweat, as he wipes his face, the effort evident in every move.

Charles glances at his phone, his eyes catching the sight of two unread messages from you displayed on the lock screen. His gaze flickers to Carlos, who has also noticed the notification, his eyes shifting towards Charles with a curious glint.

“Are you seeing her later?”

“I mean, most likely,” Charles replies with a nonchalant shrug, his attempt to maintain a casual demeanor barely hiding the faint blush creeping up his cheeks. “She’s my best friend.”

“Just a best friend?” Lando then interjects, curiosity sparkling in his eyes as he studies Charles.

Charles nods, taking a deep, refreshing gulp from his own water bottle.

“Oh, thank god,” Lando exhales loudly, a wave of relief evident in his voice. “I thought you two might be more than that. I was seriously worried you’d kill me if you found out we hooked up. I mean it was just casual, nothing serious.” 

Charles seemed to freeze in place as soon as the words ‘hooked up’ left Lando’s lips. His demeanor shifted; the casual shrug was replaced by a look of stunned disbelief, his eyes widening slightly. The color in his cheeks deepened, and for a moment, it was as if he had temporarily stopped functioning.

“You did what?” Charles’s voice dropped almost an entire octave, harsh and edged with disbelief. The sudden shift in tone sliced through the air.

Lando raises his hands in a defensive gesture, his expression a blend of alarm and pleading. His wide eyes and slightly raised eyebrows convey a silent, desperate plea that said please don’t kill me

Charles could feel the frustration boiling in his chest, an unsettling mix of anger and disbelief churning within him. His mind seemed to short-circuit at the realization that you had slept with Lando; the very thought impossible to him. The notion that you, someone so significant to him, had been with someone else, especially Lando, made him feel sick. You’re his.

Charles stepped back onto the padel court with a palpable edge, his frustration visibily simmering. As he gripped his racket, each swing was swung with a fierce, and angry energy. His movements were sharp and aggressive, the ball smacking hard against the racket with a stinging crack. 

He darted across the court with a tension that made every step seemed charged, his eyes narrowing in concentration and irritation at Lando on the other side of the court. Each volley and smash seemed to resonate with his internal anger, the intensity of the game mirroring the brewing frustration inside of him.

No matter how hard he hit the ball, or how hard he worked his body in the game, the burning sensation in his chest never faded.

-

You were in the middle of pulling dinner out of the oven, a roasted chicken with sliced baby potatoes, when you heard the front door of your apartment creak open, its familiar sound echoing through the quiet kitchen. The gentle groan of the hinges hinting at someone entering. Your ears perked up at the sound, but you weren’t alarmed. A quick glance towards the door confirmed your suspicion: Charles was the only other person with a key to your apartment. 

The rich smell of rosemary and garlic filled the apartment, their scents weaving through the air. Charles inhaled deeply, unable to suppress a soft, appreciative groan from the smell. 

You carefully set the dish on top of the stove, and with a swift nudge of your hip, close the oven door. Your attire is simple and cozy, a very large sweatshirt that swallows you in its oversized embrace. Charles can’t help but smile at you, the burning in his chest fading just slightly.

Charles casually drops his phone, wallet, and keys onto the edge of the countertop nearest the kitchen archway. A tired but genuine smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he approaches you. He pulls you into a warm embrace, his chest offering comforting solidity. He’s dressed in a grey pair of sweatpants and a navy t-shirt, his hair still slightly damp from a recent shower. The contrast between his casual, relaxed appearance made your insides feel like goo. 

You can’t help but notice a subtle shift in Charles, his demeanor more reserved than usual. Despite his warm smile and appreciative comments about dinner, and the occasional small talk, there’s an unmistakable quietness about him.

His words come more infrequently, and when he does speak his responses are rather brief, lacking the usual depth and enthusiasm.

The contrast between his silence and typically engaging nature leaves you lingering with a sense of concern as you bury your body under a heap of blankets on the plush couch.

Charles settles beside you on the couch, his feet propped up comfortably on the coffee table. The soft glow of the TV, which is playing a random movie neither of you are really paying attention to, casts a gentle light across the room. The flickering screen illuminates his features in a warm, calming way.

“Il y a quelque chose qui ne va pas?” Is something wrong?

His head immediately turns to you, an unmistakable glint in his eyes. “Hm?” He plays it off, not really sure if he’s ready to have this conversation just yet.

“What’s wrong?” You say again, turning your body to face him now. “You’ve been so quiet tonight.”

He gazes at you for a few moments, his eyes distant and contemplative, as if he’s lost in a deep, lingering thought. The silence between you two stretches, its weight almost palpable, and you can’t help but feel a growing sense of unease.

“You can tell-“ You don’t even get to finish your sentence.

In the blink of an eye, his hands move to the back of your head with sudden, determined force. He pulls you towards him, and before you can fully grasp what’s happening, his lips crash against yours in a fierce, unexpected kiss.

You react almost instinctively, your fingers reaching out and gripping his shoulders not to push him away, but to draw him closer. The urgency and depth of his kiss awakens a surge of emotion, and you pull him towards you, deepening the connection between you. Your hips immediately begin rolling into him, almost an involuntary move.

It takes an even shorter amount of time for his tongue to slip into your mouth, his hands trailing to the back of your knee, grasping it and slipping it over his lap, until you’re fully seated on his lap.

He doesn’t break the kiss. No, for a few minutes it’s just all tongue and teeth clashing. Not even gentle. If he could swallow you whole, he would.

It’s not until you pull back, your lips tingling and swollen, and your breath coming in short, ragged gasps, that you finally meet his gaze. His once vibrant green eyes are now completely darkened, their usual brilliance replaced by an intense, smoldering depth that reflects the fervor of the moment.

He’s insanely hard as you rut against him, your hips involuntarily slowly rolling against him like you have no control of your body.

“That’s it, fuck,” He groans, guiding your hips to grind against him harder. A measly pair of sleep shorts and sweatpants layered between you both. “Such a good girl, yeah?”

Soft whimpers escape your lips, your breath hot on his ear as drop your head forward into the crevice of his neck.

You’re uncertain about what this means for the two of you, but you know you can’t stop. The room is thick with tension, the air charged with unspoken words and electric anticipation. The burning sensation in your stomach intensifies, a fiery knot of emotions. Meanwhile, Charles feels as if his heart might burst from his chest, its rapid beats echoing in the depth of his feelings and raw intensity of the moment.

Your cheeks are scarlet red, and it isn’t until your orgasm approaches that your hips are moving at a feverish pace. No longer able to even fully kiss him as your mouth widens and soft high- pitched moans escape against his own mouth. And he swallows every moan you give him. 

He gives you no time to recover before his large fingers are sprawled across your neck, shoving you down to the couch onto your back and slipping your sleep shorts off. The cool air of your apartment is a stark contrast to your soaked core.

“Please,” You beg, Charles fingers still pressed into the soft skin of your neck, no doubt leaving little marks. 

For a moment, Charles takes in the sight before him. His cock twitches against the band of his sweatpants, he’s so hard that it’s almost painful. 

“What do you need?”

“Charlie please, I really need you to fuck me.” You plead again, breaking Charles out of whatever trance he was in. 

It’s hurried. He reaches behind his head with one hand, grasping a fist full of fabric of his navy t-shirt before pulling it over his head in one fluid motion. A rush of not so smooth moments as he shoves his sweatpants and boxers down. They aren’t even completely off, resting just below his knees because he’s in too much of a hurry to finally be inside of you.

He leans his full weight into you, slipping his cock into you slowly. The burning sensation feels too good that you can’t help but bite your lips to refrain from moaning too loudly.

It’s not until he’s fully bottomed out inside of you that he tilts his head forward with a brutal moan, the chords in his neck prominent as your walls clench tightly around him.

“Fuck,” He mutters, not moving his hips yet. “You’re a tight little thing, aren’t you?”

You were shaking at this point. At how much he filled you. His cock was pressed up deliciously against your walls. He could feel your walls trembling against him, and he hadn’t even moved yet.

He rests with both arms at the sides of your head now, one more rested on his elbow while the other was locked straight as he begins rolling his hips into her, not even full strokes yet as he lets your body adjust to him.

Your eyes sparkle up at him with a smile tugged on your lips, and he swears his heart might beat out of his chest.

It’s not until his hand slips under the back of your knee again, guiding it up until its pressed to your chest that he picks up the pace of his hips. His fingers grip your leg tightly, his full body weight leaning into the pressure of his grip on your leg.

You couldn’t handle the way he was staring at you. A smirk toyed on his lips. 

For a flash of a moment, the image of you and Lando flickers into his mind. Driving him crazy.

He was ruthless. Fucking you deep and hard into the cushions of the couch. Your fingers gripped his arms, digging your nails into the skin of his biceps.

Your pussy flutters around his cock. “Do that again,” He groans. So you do. “Fuck, just like that.”

You’re not sure how it was possible, but he begins to pump his length into you at a deeper and more intense angle.

His breaths were jagged in heavy in your ear as he drops down, his chest now pressed to yours. “Open up, baby.” His voice is hushed, deep breaths in between each word like he’s struggling.

You don’t even need to ask, opening your mouth he lets the spit of his mouth fall into yours in a stringy mess. “Oh, God.” You groan at the sensation of his spit in your mouth.

It only takes a few more minutes before you’re shoving your head deep into the cushions, your head lolled back in pure pleasure as your orgasm crashes into you, throbbing and shaking around his cock. You cried out shamelessly, unable to stop your body from shaking.

“Fill me up, please” You beg. “Need you inside of me.”

Charles can feel his resolve slipping. “Yeah?”

You nod feverishly as Charles slows the pace of his hips, still hitting in harsh and calculated strokes. He came with a loud groan, his face pressed into the crevice of your neck as he loses all senses of strength and collapses on top of you.

For a few moments, you just lay there with him on top of you, paying attention to the heavy even breaths you both share. Eventually, you both move in silence. Charles making sure to clean you up with the care and concern he always has for you. Your heart lurches in your chest as he removes the wet cloth from you, all cleaned up now.

“Are you okay?” You ask with slight concern. “That was-“

He cuts you off. “Did you really fuck Lando?”

His words have you caught completely off guard, your cheeks reddening almost instantly. “Where did you hear that?” You feel the panic form in your throat.

“Where did I hear that?” He repeats, his tone sharp. “That’s all you have to say?”

“No,” you say, your fingers gently playing with the delicate baby hairs at the nape of Charles’s neck. “I mean, yes.” You take a deep breath and come clean. “Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Why?” He scoffs slightly, his hands finding a comfortable grip on the flesh of your hips, the hem of your sweatshirt bunched around them.

“God, you really don’t know do you?” He adds, his head falling back against the couch cushions. A deep breath escaping his chest as he shuts his eyes momentarily, his frustration and weariness palpable.

“Know what?” You ask, feeling your heartbeat quicken. A swarm of nerves knots in your stomach as his fingers grip and release your hips in a rhythmic, anxious pattern. 

“That I love you.” He lifts his head, locking his gaze with yours, his eyes intense and sincere as he enunciates each word with a deliberate clarity. “That I’m in love with you.” The weight of the confession hangs in the air, his voice steady but filled with emotion.

“Charlie,” You whisper, feeling an overwhelming rush of emotion. You lean forward, your body naturally collapsing into his chest as his arms slide up your back, enveloping you in a sweet embrace. His hold tightens, drawing you closer, and you nestle against him, the warmth and solidity of his presence providing a comforting anchor. 

“You’re mine,” He says, as if he’s talking to himself. Reminding himself. “You’ve always been mine.”

“My Charlie,” You smile softly. “I love you too.”

[xx-lemon-drop-xx]

How would NRC (only 18+ characters) react to their fem s/o texting them "Come here, I'm horny"?

I'm so sorry these are so short. Your girls getting a bit burnt out as of late for some reason. Anyways, I hope you like them <33

Warnings: MDNI, fem reader, suggestive but not really smutty, mentions of boners.

Request: Yes.

Words: 1,130.

Trey Clover

Trey was working on frosting a cake with Riddle when he received the text from you. And thankfully Riddle was short because he damn near choked at the message. A blunt, “Come. I'm horny." Was all you had sent.

However, catering to your needs, he let Riddle know something important had come up and he had to go tend to a leak in your roof. Riddle of course sensing the urgency had nodded with a simple; “Go, I can manage the frosting." Trey felt no remorse for fibbing to his friend and dorm leader, and went off to find you at Ramshackle.

Entering the broken down household he smiled gingerly over at you. "You needed me, peach? Go and lay back on the bed. I'll take care of you."

Cater Diamond

Cater was at the Light Music club when you texted him, and just in case it was urgent or some spicy drama from magicam had checked his phone right away. It was spicy, just in a way he hadn't thought it'd be. His face slowly flushed a red, gaining the attention of Kalim, who had asked if he was okay.

Cater cleared his throat, nodding. “Uh… Yes! Ah haha, I'm okay! Sorry, I just got distracted there for a minute.” While Kalim was none the wiser, the old fae on the other hand, was.

After he finished the club Cater quickly made his way to your dorm, shoving open your door he crawled over you, leaning down to press a searing kiss against you. “Hahh.. Babydoll, you can't just text me like that out of the blue!”

Leona Kingscholar

You really think this man was anywhere but napping?

He was less than amused to stir awake from his phone going off, alerting him of a text message. And for a moment he wasn't going to even answer it, rather he'd just roll over and go back to bed but something prompted him to pick up that phone and boy was he glad he did.

A smirk formed across his face and he texted back a simple “Omw" before rolling out of bed, hair messy and clothes disheveled before making his way to your dorm. He was there in record time, falling across your bed and grasping your hips to make you straddle him. Yeah, some pussy was definitely better than sleeping.

“Feeling like a whore? Then sit on this cock and take it like a good girl."

Vil Schoenheit

He was at a photoshoot when you texted him. He'd frowned slightly at your blunt order but underneath was particularly amused. His little potato needed him?

"You're going to have to wait, lovely. Photoshoot is almost over.” He could almost feel the way your lips puckered into a pout on the other side of the phone as he got back into position for another photo after his short break. Thirty minutes later he was leaving the photoshoot.

And fifty minutes later he was coming into your dorm room, sliding off his shoes and over coat before leaning over you on the bed, pressing a light kiss to your forehead. “I'm sorry for being so long. Let me make it up to you, potato.” He dragged your hand up his leg onto the crotch of his pants, before moving to straddle you.

Rook Hunt

Was enjoying nature up in a tree when his phone buzzed in his pocket. On pulling it out and seeing your text message, you received back a slur of French, with a few heart Emojis after them. “English, Rook." His lips quirked at your sass. “On my way as we speak, Mon amour." He texted back, pocketing his phone before climbing down the tree.

Fast on his feet and in the area, Rook arrived at Ramshackle within five minutes. He hung his coat on the coat wrack and took off his shoes before padding up to your room.

“My petite amour, I have arrived.” He cupped your face, pressing light kisses against your chin and jaw. "Do tell me which part of me you crave first, Mon lapin.”

Idia Shroud

Thankfully Idia was in his room like always when he received your text. Instant red face. (And instant Idia jr peaking up but we don't talk about that) Almost thought you were tweaking or had text the wrong person, despite being your lover. However after getting his shit together he texts you back.

“Can you come here? I.. Might be in a predicament where I am unable to leave my room for a while."

When you came to his dorm instead of the other way around he had a pillow over his lap and his face and hair were both a light red in color. Grasping onto the pillow you pulled it off and crawled onto his bed after shutting and locking his door. Idia’s hands found purchase on your hips, pulling you down to straddle him. “Eheheh.. You have no idea how long I've waited for this." He grinned against your throat, before biting down on your shoulder to leave a hickey.

Malleus Draconia

Remains stone faced despite the very obvious tent rising in his trousers. If his tail were to be out it would've been wagging in slight excitement. Out of everyone, you might just be the only person to be able to boss around and command the prince of briar valley.

“You wish to mate with me? I will be over immediately, child of man." It takes him a moment to answer you. Not because he didn't see the message but because he still doesn't know how to use a phone that well still. Please be patient, he is very happy.

Appears outside your dorm as soon as he texts you back, eagerly knocking on your door in a beckon for you to let him in. As soon as you open the door he is grabbing you by the hips, guiding you against him. “My dearest peony, do feel free to seek me out everytime you have these feelings. I will be more than obliged to assist you.”

Lilia Vanrogue

Doesn't even answer your message. He was in history and then all of a sudden he was floating upside down in front of you. An amused look was on his face though despite the little grin his eyes were foggy with lust.

“Oh my what do we have here? Couldn't even keep your hands out of your panties in the short time it took me to get here? Fufufu~ let's have a look now, hmm?"

Lilia eagerly slots himself between your legs like he's always belonged there, nibbling and nipping at your legs as he makes his way up. “You taste exquisite, and I haven't even gotten to the main course yet.”

[dilatorywriting]

Hello! May I request 94. With Rook?

I certainly wouldn't mind the smoot if you think it fits into what you write-

Gender Neutral Reader x Rook Hunt Word Count: 1.2k

Prompt 94: "Don’t act innocent, you had me pinned underneath you 5 minutes ago."

🌶️ Warning for Mild Spice

[EVENT MASTERLIST]

“Just a bit of chase!” he says.

“The thrill of the hunt can be so fun!” he says.

Except now you’re covered in sweat and doubled over panting like you’re going to go into cardiac arrest. Because Rook’s idea of ‘oh, just a little run around, je promets!’ involved nothing less than a full fucking sprint through the wooded areas of the campus—over hill, and under hill, and godyou were so out of shape.

You gasped into your knees, bent over in anticipation of just, I don’t know. Death? Vomit? All of the above?

“Ah, don’t tell me you’ve given up already, mon cher!” the aforementioned demon cooed from somewhere in the trees. In the trees! Like a literal, freaking hunter of old, and not your coddling boyfriend smiling all pretty when he says ‘just a bit.’ Absolute bullshit. You wanted a refund. “We’ve only just begun!”

“It’s been—” you gasped, swiping a furious hand over your dripping brow, “—an hour! You fucking masochist!”

“A true predator knows best that a subtle, steady approach is always the most satisfying, mon petit lapin,” he hummed, voice echoing discordantly over your head. “And how could I not take my time, when the reward is bound to be so sweet, hmm?”

“What reward?” you snapped. “Me doing this at all is the reward!”

The blonde’s trilling laughter curled through the air like the tinkle of a windchime. Light, and airy, and pleasant. Which was deceptive. And entirely unfair.

“Ah, but mon favori. I doubt you could ever say no to a little death, hmm?” he cooed. And the continued, with an air of faux consideration. “A bit for you, and then perhaps a bit for me. And then a bit more for you—”

Fuck his poetry. It was going to be a big death. A literal death. With rigor mortis, and decay, and a bloating corpse if you didn’t have a chance to collapse into a puddle in the next five minutes. Normally Rook’s sweet sonnets and romantic ramblings were something you found quite endearing. But surely anyone would be pushed past their Cutesy Bullshit Tolerance after being chased like a bat out of hell for the past literal hour. You felt woozy, and wrong footed, and like maybe that muffin you’d snagged for breakfast might be in the process of making up its mind to come back up to say hello.

“You have to run, petit lapin,” that chittering voice called again. “That’s the whole point.”

“No!” you snapped, stomping your foot like a toddler. “I give up! I’m a dumb rabbit! A lame rabbit! A rabbit with no legs! Just—get me already!” you shouted into the leafy canopy.

Silence.

You glared up into the kaleidoscope of greens, eyes narrowed as you searched the shadows. Surely he was somewhere. Somewhere close. You just had to—

And then you were crashing forward with an inelegant screech—a familiar, gloved hand pressing into the skin at the back of your neck and the other twisting into your uniform jacket to push you down into the dirt. And then Rook was sitting astride your hips, looking down at you with a sharp, brilliant gleam in his emerald eyes.

“Ah, mon pauvre lapin perdu,” he sighed, all faux sympathy, and shifted to lean forward so that he could grin into your flushed face. “Whatever shall I do with you, hmm? Rolling over to show your belly so readily. Certainly that’s far from safe.”

There was a tight, warm, whoosh in your gut. A twisting thing that you knew far too well at this point. And it spelled nothing but bad things.

You raised your chin as best as you could, meeting that toothy smirk of his head on, and then—

Ah. Nope. That had been the muffin after all.

Your face went green and you rolled onto your side to barf chunks of banana-nut-nonsense all over the grass.

.

.

“Mon cher, how can you ever forgive me?” Rook wailed, dabbing a soft, silk cloth against your heated forehead, nearly in tears. “I have failed you so horribly! So completely! I deserve to be cast from your good graces! Cursed to errer seul! Mutilé par des chiens! Jeté en enfer! Forcé de se repentir pour toujours!—”

“Enough, please,” you whined, pinching at the bridge of your nose. “I’d rather you just, I don’t know, got me a glass of water.”

“Right away!” he chirped, shooting to his feet and darting out the door and down the hall. He was back hardly a moment later, depositing a clean cup into your hands and plunking a curling, purple straw into the center of it.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, leaning forward to take a sip.

“Anything at all for you, mon cher!”

This was almost worse somehow.

“Would you cut it out,” you sighed. “It’s fine. Really. Shit happens.”

He stared up at you from where he was kneeled on the floor at your side with the largest, most doleful eyes you’d ever seen. Like a kicked puppy dog had a sad, sad child with, like, an even more pathetic, more kicked, kitten. You jabbed at him with your foot.

“And stop that!”

“Stop what?” he asked, blinking those stupid, stupid green eyes at you.

“Acting all innocent!” you complained. “You literally had me pinned underneath you, like, five minutes ago!”

“I did, didn’t I?” he hummed, sounding almost pensive. He reached up to tap at his chin, like he was chewing over a thought. “And I wasn’t even able to keep my promise, was I?” he lamented, deflating.

“What promise?” you frowned.

“For a bit of mutual demise,” he sighed. “Une petite mort.”

You felt heat crawl up your cheekbones and all the way to the tips of your ears. Because this had been some whole, elaborate setup, hadn’t it? Something that you’d only agreed to because he’d seemed so, ah, enthusiastic. And then you’d gone and barfed up banana chunks and ruined the whole thing.

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

Rook’s head shot up and he reached out to snare your hands in his.

“Non, non, mon cher!” he gasped. “This was hardly your fault to speak of! It is I and my poor planning that ought to make recompence,” he said.

And then, a terribly acute sort of brilliance came over his face. Like a lightbulb went off in his brain. Those green eyes went sharp with focus. He seemed to roll the his words around on his tongue, as if deciding exactly how they ought to taste when he let them fall back out again.

“And recompense I shall make!” he chirped, determined and shifted so his chin was resting in your lap. He sent you a coy little grin that had shivers racing down your spine.

“I literally just threw up,” you complained.

“This will certainly help you feel better,” he offered.

“That’s not the point!” you squawked. “Shouldn’t I—I don’t know—at least brush my teeth or something first?”

“Forgive me, mon petit lapin,” he laughed against your thigh. “But last I checked, I don’t think your mouth has anything do with this. And besides,” he crooned, reaching up to press a firm hand against your shoulder and help ease you down to the mattress below. “That was from overexertion, I’m afraid. Not illness. And I can promise, mon cher, that this time, you won’t have to bother putting any work in at all~”

.

.

[marketfreshfics]

Like Rabbits | Garreth x f!MC

Header image: @newbienewness ✦ 4327 words ✦ NSFW content (MDNI), aged-up characters, unnamed female MC (no use of y/n), alcohol consumption, admission of feelings/slight proposition, masturbation, spanking, p in v, light dom/sub elements ✦ Plot? What plot? This was honest to god just an excuse to write about Garreth in a rabbit costume ✦ Read it below the cut or on AO3

Easter festivities were a rarity at Hogwarts, yet when an opportunity for revelry arose, the seventh-years seized it with unbridled enthusiasm.

For generations, a pact among students governed the hosting duties on such occasions. The house with the fewest points bore the responsibility (and, by consequence, the aftermath) of throwing the celebration. Slytherin, enduring a dismal streak, found themselves reluctantly poised to shoulder the burden once more, the third time not necessarily the charm. As the soon-to-be graduates gathered amidst their diminished house, they sampled the exotic hors d'oeuvres with subdued chatter, their ranks thin and their spirits somewhat subdued, shooing a curious first year who had risen from bed to visit the loo.

You couldn't help but notice the lacklustre effort put forth, evident in the half-hearted swirling of your drink and the telltale lines of boredom etched upon your brow. Natsai, however, who displayed a downright lackadaisical disinterest, was already poised to depart for the evening. "I do think the Slytherins should dedicate more focus to their house standings to avoid committing another crime such as this party."

A soft chuckle escaped your lips in response, prompting an eye-roll from Imelda as she fished a hair from her drink. "Blame Sallow, we’re still recovering from his little bridge stunt."

The memory evoked a ripple of amusement; the viaduct bridge, unimposing as ever one moment, became a terrifying tangle of devil’s snare that multiplied out of control, requiring several days' worth of Confringo to eradicate.

"I’ll let you know I’m still working through detention for that." Sebastian, the culprit in question, shot a wry grin as his classmates riled with snickers, much to his chagrin. "I was only practicing the Geminio charm for Ronen’s assignment! At his recommendation, mind you, I performed it outside on a plant! I swear, Professor Weasley was just trying to-"

"Did someone mention Weasley?"

Heads swivelled towards the echo of an announced arrival from the staircase, and before questions and curiosities could be posted, Garreth Weasley sauntered down the spiral steps wearing a riot of pink cotton with two lapin ears sprouting from his crown. The seventh-years all hollered and laughed at the sight, save for Leander, who appeared wholly unamused by his fellow Gryffindor’s getup. "The bloody hell, Garreth?"

"What?" He grinned at the tall redhead. "Surely we couldn't have a proper Easter festivity without a rabbit present? Where’s the fun in that?"

Leander's jab echoed into the rim of his goblet before he took a sip. "Is that what’s been stuffed under your bedframe for the past month? You look ridiculous."

Undeterred, Garreth opted instead to, well, air his abundance of comfort. "Yes, but I feel incredible. Quite breezy down here, innit?"

Spiked cider sputtered from Sebastian then, dribbling down his chin. "Are you wearing anything under that poacher’s pelt?"

"Isn’t my smile enough for you, Sallow?"

Yet, despite yourself, your curiosity persisted, occasionally wandering to the vicinity of his lap. Heat rose to your cheeks, unrelated to the effects of alcohol, as you observed the subtle jostle there. It was a wager, you thought, with a flush of embarrassment tinting your cheeks, that Garreth Weasley remained, by all accounts, an honest man.

"What even is this fabric?" Natsai protested, pinching the fold of fluff near her housemate’s bicep. "It appears to be rather flammable."

"Now that would provide ample entertainment for the evening." Ominis chimed in nearby, his attention still fixed on his wand-led readings, seemingly uninterested in the fraternization.

"One at a time, darlings." Garreth, the ever-enthusiastic lion, swung a wicker-weave basket to and fro, reminiscent of some fictional harbinger of joy. Nestled within the dried grass padding were several small bottles of firewhisky, a smattering of cauldron cakes, and various other treats from Honeydukes. "I knew the Slytherins were in desperate need of a Pepperup, so I've come to spread the merriment. Snakes enjoy chocolate frogs, don't they?"

"I thought snakes typically ate rabbits," Imelda quipped, raising an eyebrow.

Garreth didn't miss a beat in his response to her jest. "If I were none the wiser, Reyes, I'd wager you'd like to take a hop around my carrot—"

A muttered expletive signalled the departure of the quidditch captain, leaving behind a chorus of laughter.

You found yourself enthusiastically joining in, relishing the unexpected amusement of the evening. As the crowd dispersed, you approached Garreth to select a treat of your own.

"Happy Easter, beautiful." Garreth's voice dipped low, laced with a suggestive tone that he often employed in your company. "Care to take a seat on the Easter bunny's lap and tell me what you want to find in your basket tomorrow morning?"

"That's Santa Claus," you teased in return.

"My mistake."

The flirtations between Garreth and yourself had become somewhat of a tradition throughout your Hogwarts enrollment, though they never progressed beyond playful banter. Here and now, with alcohol’s nack for unbarring inhibitions, the thought of advancing motions with the cheeky Gryffindor didn’t seem like such an unreachable feat.

"You seem rather warm in that outfit," you observed, noting the slight sheen above his brow.

Garreth chuckled. "It's rather steamy in here, indeed. But not to worry, I can… ventilate if needed." Handing you a small package of honeycomb with a coy smirk, he added, "Here, I think you'll enjoy this one."

Before you could inquire further, Garreth was already moving through the lively crowd, intent on distributing more sweets and cheers. With a huff of amusement, you tore into the package of honeycomb, only to notice some writing on the pleat of the wrapper.

'Do you know what rabbits are known for? I think we could do it better. Tell me when you’re ready, and we can hop off for the night.'

The implications hit you like lightning.

Copious procreation.

Flammable or not, your gaze practically burned through the back of Garreth's fluffy pink ensemble as he disappeared into the throng of students.

---

While the evening bled into night, even with the bolstering presence of libations coursing through your veins, the mere idea of approaching Garreth at the night's end had your insides all tangled. Harmless flirtations aside, this was a full-on proposition. What if the request was meant for someone else?

Then again, he’d deliberately dedicated the honeycomb to you…

---

Somewhere between a refilled goblet and the honeycomb wrapper now tucked into your brazier like some love letter from a sweetheart posted overseas, your prior suspicions of Garreth’s costume being rather warm were confirmed. The redhead retracted an arm inside the suit, while the other unzipped the front to his navel, exposing his bare chest as he tied the sleeves around his hips.

At that moment, propriety yielded to fascination, and any pretense of restraint evaporated as you found yourself captivated by the contours of his soft yet sculpted physique. A twinge of envy stirred within you, brought on by the admiring glances of the two Hufflepuff witches directed his way from the sidelines.

Garreth leaned against the wall, a slight trickle of sweat central to his chest, freckles all flushed from alcohol and flirtations, and seeing the wizard looking entirely dishevelled in his buzzed state did something truly wonderful for your inhibitions. Downing the rest of your pep talk, you crossed the common room, approached him near the enchanted piano, and promptly cupped a hand to his ear.

"I’m ready to… hop off, for the night." You whispered, the heat carried with it curling into the shell of cartilage.

"Yeah?" Garreth’s grin settled into a keen sort of coy, and his gaze went all honed-in and confident, leaning into you with some additional insinuations in those glassy greens of his. "Sure you don’t want to linger a bit longer in this charming mildew?"

His stray dig was not lost on Sebastian, who promptly threw Garreth a pointed warning without threat behind it, bopping an ear of his fuzzy getup.

"Settle down, Sallow," Garreth chortled, relieving his cup of its contents before boldly taking your hand. “We know the snakes always host the most splendid of shindigs.”

A chorus of wolf-whistles heralded your departure, along with someone’s award-winning remark about calling Garreth ‘Thumper.’

Down the adjacent hallway you went, past another couple that was long since lip-locked, and the firewhisky fuzz in you sought the very same. At the end of the hallway that connected to the Slytherin dormitories, coincidentally located at the intersection of friendship and something more, you shoved Garreth against the wall and claimed that magical mouth of his with your own.

For all the smart comments, the witty banter, the years of flirtations that stacked the deck and colored your cheeks, Garreth melted against you, a mess of vulnerability and desire. His body responded eagerly, exploring newfound territories with a hunger born of longing. Eventually, his body caught up to the priority of the situation, wrapping both arms around you with eager motions and traveling to all the locations he’d only dreamt of visiting before.

You were moving then—perhaps another student was evicting you from the open area, nudged aptly to ‘get a room’—but at one point or another, between lips, between moans, and those magical, heated renditions of your name, you found yourselves in a vacant dormitory.

"Who’s room is this?" You pondered breathlessly.

Garreth didn’t seem to give two shits as you all but crashed into the bedroom, nearly toppling an oil lamp, sending it teetering on its pegs as you collided with a bedpost. "Don’t know, don't care."

And that conversation promptly died in between your mouths, somewhere in the tangle of your tongues, as Garreth captured your wrists, holding them above your head as he trailed kisses along your throat. Plush, pink lips planted sweet kisses, while the scuff of end-of-day stubble bit friction in their wake.

"Garreth," You murmured with a shallow draw of breath. "You… you fancy me?"

"Oh, we’re well past fancying, love." His tone dipped back into devious territory, the same place where feelings like desire and longing and, goodness, arousal held court. “I’m onto the craving stages of our little tryst, myself. And right now… I need you.”

In response to his confession, your leg instinctively hitched over his hip, eliciting a low groan as he captured his bottom lip between teeth, a rewarding gesture that spoke volumes without a word.

His grip on your wrists was released, instead seeking the supple curve of your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he carried you toward the nearest bed. Settling you down with a sense of urgency, the mattress dipped with his company, and he enveloped you in his embrace, hungering for more of the kisses that fueled his wet dreams.

Garreth pulled back, settling on his knees above you, a pleased grin playing on his lips as he panted, as if suddenly realizing something, perhaps in response to the whisper of a zipper against his bare chest. "Why aren't you naked yet?"

You laughed, mischief set free as you met his gaze. "Excuse me? What about romance? Shouldn't you be wooing me or, I don’t know, engaging in some foreplay?"

The redhead chewed his lip, and it stretched with eagerness. “Of course. Where are my manners? Though I’m still taking all of your clothes off right now, I’ve waited long enough for my Easter present.”

"You don’t exactly give gifts for Easter."

There wasn’t much room left for protest, however, as Garreth all but tore your skirt from your waist, his expression telling of the countless times he’d imagined doing so, perhaps somewhere into his fist or while soaking in the shower. The billow of linen and cotton was discarded with such haste that you thought he’d taken some unspoken offence to the garment, but then his efforts were being spent on tugging your underwear down. A breath born from an expletive ensured you were plenty wet for the introduction.

Verdant irises were engulfed by pupils blown wide, as Garreth drank in the sight of your sex. "God… my imagination could never."

"Like what you see, do you?" You giggled nervously, knees bent and pressed together in honest reflex.

"You have no bloody idea how much I like what I see," he replied with a grin, his gaze tracing every contour of your exposed skin. "...what am I supposed to do now?" It was his turn for a nervous chuckle, palming whatever flesh he made contact with, his demeanour akin to that of a tourist in need of directions.

A soft moan rewarded his efforts. "Whatever you desire... I'm yours for the night, remember?"

And to seal the proverbial deal, you peeled the ruched top up and over your head, unhooked your brazier immediately after, and bit the web of your cheek as you expedited it to the floor, joining the rest of your clothing expenditures.

The honeycomb wrapper fluttered onto your stomach, and Garreth raised an amused brow. "A fond little souvenir, hmm?"

"It’s sentimental, shut up." You purred, quieting his jests with bare chests pressed, and he saw no room for further comment on the matter. Garreth was all mouth then, kissing from lips to chin to lobe as he tutted. "Before we truly make like rabbits and fornicate," He couldn’t help the huff that followed, hearing himself say such a big boy word, "there's something I want to do first."

"Tell me," you urged quietly, fingers tangled in fiery copper curls. "Tell me what you want to do to me..."

"Well, for starters..." He kissed a breadcrumb trail from your neck to your shoulder, "I want to hold you in my arms and get you off."

"Oh god," anticipation drenched your mound and arched your back. "Yes, Garreth, please…"

The sound of your voice sent shivers down his spine, confirming the suspicions he had harboured for months. Curated Gryffindor courage made his heart swell, and his hands trailed down to both hips, maneuvering you around until your back pressed against his chest, playing little and big spoons. Garreth's lips found their way to the curve of your ear, where teeth and lips took turns teasing your lobe. "Comfy?"

"Very much so," you mewled, surrendering to his magnetic presence, your bare back pressed against his chest while you lay on your side. Your hips instinctively moved in synchrony with his, firm against fluffy pink fabric slung low on his waist, and there it is—that stiffness underneath the plush that has your mouth watering and your groin humming. A snort erupted from you at the reminder of the rabbit costume, partially undressed, entirely inappropriate.

"What's that, sweetheart? Gonna share with the class?" He tsked then, and a mischievous grin adorned his face as he felt the delightful pressure of your hips against his own. "Might I… take a dip?"

"Yes," you breathed, already writhing, already wanting, even though his exploration had only just commenced. "Please, Garreth... please..."

And so Garreth learned a lot about himself then; your pleading revealed a new kink. He nuzzled your neck with a mischievous grin, his touch growing more daring as a hand dipped lower; as soon as his fingers gently caressed the carnal crux between your thighs, your neck arched a bit harshly, but that was just fine; you were too absorbed in thoughts of holy fuck, Garreth is rubbing my clit.

The prompt response surprised him, but your brash expression had an undeniable allure. A playful smile appeared on his face as he leaned in and whispered in your ear. "Merlin, this wet for me already? So generous..."

"Can’t believe I’m getting fingered by someone in a bunny costume.”

“Fingered by me in a bunny costume, thank you.” Garreth began sucking over your jugular to elicit a sweet little cry from your mouth, and with the flesh popping audibly, no doubt where a bruise would bloom, he whispered, "You're going to feel splendid around me, beautiful.”

"I want you, Garreth." Grinding your pelvis into both his palm and his dick certainly conveyed as much. It echoed the heat that built over months of minute gestures, sidelong glances, and jokes made at each other’s expense.

"I want you, too." His hand moved with purpose, with three fingers flat against your bud, dipping to explore your intimate depths while those tactful lips brushed the upward jut of your neck. An arm snaked under you and around your middle, palming a breast with a multitasking maneuver that made you squirm.

"Garreth," you whimpered as he caressed your wetness, throwing petrol on the fire within you. You found a rhythm that harmonized with the symphony he composed. "Yes, yes..."

"What is it, baby?" His thumb made love to that throb and swell of nerves, eyes closed in concentration as he leaned closer, exhalation hot on your shoulder.

"I want to come for you," you rasped, testifying that which sought to consume you. "Please… faster…"

Garreth's explorations intensified, and the sound of your slick arousal punctuated each movement. An almost accomplished smile curled his lips, relishing the subtle power he held over you. "Do my fingers feel good?" His voice danced all hushed and seductive, the grate of alcohol and lust on his throat.

You were lost in the whims of his touch, unfolding in his hands. As he quickened the pace of his fingers, your body arched along the river banks of abandon, edging closer to release. "I know something that would feel even better."

He possessed an innate knowledge of the words that would stoke the fire within you. "We’ll get there," he whispered, his breath hot on your racing pulse. "First… come for me."

"Yes," you whimpered, your voice trembling with the impending climax that welled within. His finger movements, an audacious symphony between soaked folds, carried you ever closer. "I'm… I'm… "

As your cries of pleasure came forth with volume, Garreth focused his efforts on your clitoral hood, applying firm pressure as opposed to frantic fingering, intent on prolonging the spasms. At the same time, your body practically sang his praises, and he offered the same in return. "Good girl. Now... are you ready for me?"

You panted, flipping over to face him with a breathless peppering of kisses, flush with gratitude. “Keep calling me a good girl like that, and I will be,” you breathed, gently biting his bottom lip.

He was quick on the draw, bless him. "Good girl.”

Eager motions resumed, bodies practically clinging together. "I want you inside me, Garreth." You squirmed underneath, anticipating his taking. “Let me be your good girl; take me from behind…”

Without hesitation, Garreth shifted you onto your stomach faster than his brain could sort sense of the idea. He grabbed you by the hips, repositioning you on the bed with precision, with his trademark combination of dominance and fondness. You stabilized on elbows, swaying your hips like the comely creature you were.

"Is this what my good girl wants?" he smirked, devouring the gradual parting of your legs, the invitation for him to claim what is rightfully his.

"Yes," you practically pleaded, thrumming to feel the weight of his hands upon your hips, to experience his penetration. "Please, baby... spank me."

He processed the request with his mouth slightly agape in surprise at your words. No one had ever made such a request to him before. "Are you asking me to spank my good girl?"

A coy nod over your shoulder and a bitten lip conveyed your consent. "Yes, please... I'll be good..."

"Say it properly.” The command was all supplicant and alluring, while ravenous hands sampled your inner thighs.

“Please, Garreth…” You whimpered, practically dripping. “Please, spank me.”

"That's better..."

A palm thunderclapped across your rear with unexpected force. Another followed in quick succession, harder than the first, and you cried a simpering symphony. Hips swayed and rutted, knees threatened to buckle, and your back arched as heat rooted deep. "More, please, baby..."

His breath hitched as he took in your heartfelt plea, spurred on by something that mingled and met with testosterone, compelling him to venture into unexplored realms, a captive yearning for sweet freedom. Garreth employed the enthralling control he had over you as he gripped your hips possessively, while his palm branded your buttocks.

"So good," you gasped, and each contact drew forth a garbled moan.

A mischievous smirk played across the lion’s face, as he darkened at the welting consequences of his actions. He prolonged the inevitable. "Oh, is that so?" His hand descended once more, his touch deliberate, unhurried.

"Yes, oh god..." You yearned for a proper fuck, to have your hips hammered, longed to stretch intimately around him. With your bottom lip caught between teeth, you glanced back at Garreth, exuding an eager and willing demeanour. "Baby, please..."

The taut heat of his cock nestled against your rear. Nimble fingers curled into your waist, drawing you closer, and then Garreth discovered the full extent of your arousal. "So wet for me..."

"Only for you, baby..." You pushed your hips back, feeling entirely too empty all of a sudden. "Garreth, I need you inside of me… please, take me... "

"Oh, I'm going to take you, all right."

And then, in a display of vulnerability, he guided you closer with hesitant hands seeking comfort on your thighs. With a shared breath, Garreth aligned himself, gathering warmth and wetness in kind on his cock, and announced his entry with an audible exhale.

Like a reflex, your back arched, writhing serpentine along his length as Garreth bottomed out. He provided experimental thrusts, gradually quickened the pace, and soon you were sucked into a beautiful pattern.

A primal moan parted lips in an unfiltered expression of longing as he delved deeper, as Garreth bucked from behind. Bending down, he pressed an enthusiastic kiss to your nape, grunting with the forceful motion of his fuck. With every thrust, his lips on your neck sent shivers down your spine, and with how desperate he was to hold you close, Garreth clutched you close and brought your torso upright, swaying in rhythm, your bodies making sense of one another’s.

"Oh, baby girl…" The wizard purred into your ear with a strong forearm clamped over your torso and a firm grasp tangled in your hair. He tugged at your strands as he increased his pace, the pricks of pulled nerves eliciting a gasp. His grip across your midsection anchored you to his chest, the tight hold leaving crescent marks of possession into the swell of a breast. A lovely, lewd sound escaped his throat as your hips began to meet his movements, the overwhelming pleasure consuming him entirely.

Your back pressed against his chest, and you contorted in all the right ways. With a head tilted back, your sights set on the heavens, surrendering to the moment. "Fuck me, baby. Hold me tight..."

"I’m not letting go," The words were all breath, the sound caught on the brimming heart stuck in his throat, as he leaned down to bite your neck. "You're... you're mine..."

Your hand instinctively snaked between your legs, choking your clit between index and middle digits. The intense sensation of Garreth's plumbing your depths brought you to the brink, surpassing your wildest expectations. "Oh god, Garreth, I'm... I'm coming...”

A shriek was stifled as you came hard and raw, your abdomen releasing pressure buildup as you rocked against Garreth’s cock like it was your saving grace, coaxing and prolonging your release as you disengaged from body and mind, almost going slack in his arms. The announcement, the tightness of your orgasm propelled him fuck to his full potential, chorused by your cries. He teetered on the brink, his equilibrium delicately balanced as he held onto your hip, thrusting deeper inside with each exhalation, his movements deliberate and steadfast.

The bed protested audibly as you rocked on your knees, punctuating your passionate connection. You coaxed him with a voice still raw and made all the more ragged from your climax. "Come, baby…"

Your words were the catalyst of his coming. Garreth buried his face into the back of your neck, breathing ragged and erratic as the boundless excitement that you built within him finally burst forth in a breathtaking culmination. He surrendered to an overwhelming release, spilling himself deep within.

Collapsing forward, he pressed you into the bed, his body weight a comforting presence upon you. You let out a sound of satisfaction as he settled on your back, your inner thighs slick with evidence of your shared release. An inward sigh of fulfillment escapes you while you tilt to plant a kiss on his cheek. "God, that was even better than the first."

"You’ve rendered me boneless, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as he buried his face in the crook of your shoulder. “I’m utterly spent.”

You couldn't help letting out a soft chuckle; your fingers naturally entwined with his as you both shifted onto your sides. When your eyes met, they reflected a sense of contentment and gratification. "Me too," you admitted, your voice soothing in the quiet aftermath. "Spent and drained..."

Garreth's hand tightened around yours, conveying tenderness. His lips curled into a gentle smile, a sparkle of admiration flickering in his gaze. Compelled by magnetism, you gravitated close, capturing his lips in a gentle kiss. "Stay," you murmured, longing to extend this moment of closeness.

The chuckle he responded with caught you off guard until you realized that you hadn’t the foggiest idea whose bed you just expressed your feelings in. "Ah, I see," you laughed, begrudgingly reaching for your clothes.

As you tugged each article of clothing on, Garreth adjusted the rabbit costume back into place, and you devolved into a fit of giggles. “Did you even take off that ridiculous get-up?”

“Listen, love,” Garreth smirked, claiming your chin with impish intent. “I just fucked the most beautiful woman in our year wearing this. I won't soon be criticizing its charm.”

You leaned closer to kiss him, as breathless as he made you feel. “Fair enough.”

[magical-girl-coral]

I have checked what you post about and what you allow for prompts and at some point just decided to chance it and take a leap of faith.

Lapin not being interrupted by anyone and having a nice calm day

i will allow any prompt from within the fandoms i know. im not brave enough to dive into unknown waters.

Lapin cracked his neck with a tired sigh, happy that quangle was over and done with. He doesn't understand why he always needs to waggle along teenagers on all his journeys but at least this one lasted less than a full day. He couldn't wait to get to his room, prepare himself a nice cup of tea with a crossword puzzle and a nice bubble bath-

An ice cone snow ball was thrown at his face the minute he exited the portal. Because of course.

A group of snickering teens were heard from the nearby bushes, followed by an angry masculine voice warning them he will tell their mother. The teen quickly ran away back to their castle as a handkerchief was given to Lapin to clean his face.

"My apologies, chancellor," Sir Theobald said. "The children wanted a lesson outside today because of the snow. I should have known they had ulterior motives."

Lapin wiped the snow from his robe. "This is what I get for leaving you people alone for more than an hour. Please tell me the servants have at least hot water prepared."

"Hot water, peppermint tea, and those weird word puzzles you enjoy," Theobald confirmed with a stiff stance before getting softer to whisper in Lapin's ear. "I-I technically have the day off, but I'm honored bound to my duties so I have never use it, but if wish for com- *cough*- company, I wouldn't- I wouldn't mind comi-"

"Oh, I'm sure you won't," Lapin said with a smirk, knowing he cut off the worst possible moment. "This evening I would like to be alone, but feel free to drop by any other time."

With a final wink and a slap on the ass, Lapin made his way to his chambers. The sweet smell of his favorite treats and the feeling of warm fog were both so pleasant, he almost forgot himself and entered fully clothed into the tub. He took off his robes, set in the water slowly and felt every single bone of his melt into nothing.

Just as he sunk down for good, an unseen servant came over with treats and a paper with all the gossip he missed being written on it.

Sweet Bulb, this is the life.

[orbitinghetalia]

Domestic

He had simply continued with his embroidery, thoughtlessly so even, after he had noticed Marianne sitting across of him in his living room. That woman was right there, in his own house, of all places. Arthur had questioned her presence and yelled at her to get out.

She had calmly refused to do so and had even told him she would remain were she was only to annoy him and the blond haired man had somehow accepted that fact and continued on with his embroidery without giving her refusal to leave his home, which Mari had broken into, any further thought.

Until now that is, as the smell of a nice meal dragged Arthur from his thoughts and only now he noticed it was already time for dinner. He didn’t even need to look around the room to know his adversary was at the source of this smell.

Really, there was only one woman that could cook the way she did and so he put aside his needle work and made his way to the kitchen.

There she was, putting the last finishing touches to the food and without looking up she told him to sit down. “Take a seat, mon lapin.” She told him and he had heard that one often enough to do as he was told.

Marianne toke a seat at the other side of his kitchen table.

It felt normal. It always did ever since they somehow ended up with this routine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Using this years free day of @Frukweek to use a prompt from last year. Day 5 Domestic.

[bbutterflies]

okokokok i know you’re probably tired of kwami swap prompts but i’d love to see your take on bunny chloe!

omg I’m never tired of kwami swap prompts they’re so fun!!!! here’s my bunny chloe, I think she’d be named Queen Lapine 💗

[aquagirl1978]

The Yule Ball - Blanc Lapin x Reader (Ikemen Revolution)

A/N; Part of the Series of Firsts event I am hosting.

Pairing: Blanc Lapin x Reader

Prompt: First Look

Word Count: 417

Tags: fluff perhaps ooc as this boy never got his route, i'm just winging it here folks, but if anyone deserved a fic for my event, it's this guy @vivislosingitagain - tagging you because blanc

“Alice!”

You knew that voice, bright and light, like a greeting from an old friend. And you knew that smile, warm and welcoming from the moment you met that fateful day.

But you almost didn’t recognize the man walking towards you. 

Straightening your back, you smoothed your skirt as the White Rabbit approached. The  friendly recordkeeper who you had met with frequently over a casual cup of tea was now replaced with an elegantly dressed stranger in a winter white suit.

He looked good. He looked more than good. Dashing and handsome, you wondered where this Blanc was hiding the whole time you’ve been in Cradle?

You schooled your expression by the time he reached you; the last thing you wanted was to appear like a lovestruck school girl.

With a smile so dazzling, he took your hand in his, bringing your joined hands to his lips and brushing a chaste kiss across your knuckles. His gaze met yours; why hadn’t you noticed before how truly beautiful his eyes were? Golden flecks shone under the lights of the ball like stars in his eyes, capturing your full attention as you stood there dazed.

He withdrew his lips from the back of your hand, his cheeks tinted pink like he had just come in from being outside. Your gaze was still fixed on his as he let go of you; already, you missed the warmth of his hand as a strange feeling stirred inside, leaving you longing for more of his touch.

He flicked his eyes away from yours; following his gaze, you watched as couples gathered on the dance floor as soft music filled the ballroom.

“Would you grant me the honor of a dance?” His words were polite, but his whisper was soft, yet sultry; words that were meant only for your ears. His hand was extended to you, in eager invitation.

Until tonight, you had only viewed Blanc as a platonic friend. As record keeper of Cradle and the first person you met in Cradle, Blanc had been a guiding force when navigating your way through Cradle, someone you trusted and was always there for you, be it with a helping hand or a listening ear. 

Slipping your hand into his, his warmth radiated through your body, lighting a smile on your face.

“Yes, Blanc, I would love to dance with you,” you replied as he guided you onto the dance floor, your heart fluttering at the thoughts of where this dance might lead you.

Insert Line Break

Tagging: @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @chaosangel767 @alixennial @redheadkittys @queen-dahlia @ikehoe @kisara-16 @kpop-and-otome @lordsisterxotome @lucyw260 @yarnnerdally @crypticbibliophile @judejazza @maries-gallery @randonauticrap @xbalayage @xenokiryu

[starmaniamania]

Starmaweek Day 4 recap

We're past the halfway mark of @starmaweek 😯

Prompts for the day: Star (of the past and the future), Childhood, Gunshot

Fanart:

Zéro art by @melancholic-cinnamon-roll

Cristal animated art by @softiethequail

Cristal art by @dadidoudel

Cristal art by @chocolateluma

Fic:

Trigger Warning by @capitaletele (Cristal, Johnny, Sadia gen, 🇬🇧)

La Petite Fille en Rose by @everythingnox (Cristal gen, 🇬🇧)

The Darkest Days, the Brightest Night by @falimojk (Johnny gen, 🇬🇧)

Выстрел by Morgana_Darkwood (Stella, Johnny gen, 🇷🇺)

Cosplay!

Cristal cosplay and Johnny cosplay by lapin-inoffensif

[morphean42]

Day #1 of Falsettober put on by @lycheelsea

We’ll see how many I do but here’s the first prompt— Dinner

Also available under the cut

A wooden table upon which a casserole is perched, very likely warping the wood. A wooden table with three wooden chairs, only two filled. It’s not the first time the seat next to Jason has been empty, but the silence tonight is loud.

Tonight, the silence sounds like a hundred white lies that have been spit with varying amounts of anger for months. Lies, like “I have to finish a project at work” or “I’m getting a drink with an old college friend.”

The chair to the left is filled by silence that sounds like clothes being packed into a suitcase, a whole life stowed away as a man walks across the threshold of a house now wiped of his presence.

The chair to the right is quiet too, but in an altogether different way. This is the sort of quiet Jason has dealt with all his life— a parent too absorbed in their own life to care about his. The chair is inhabited by a mother still shocked by the events that unfolded the previous night.

He picks at his food and glares with every ounce of hatred he can muster. If he can’t let this hatred out on the man himself, Jason supposes the poor casserole will do as a replacement. At least it won’t glare back.

The silence is broken by a heavy sigh. “Please, Jason, eat your dinner,” The Mother says as if the world hasn’t ended. The Son stabs a piece of broccoli and pretends it’s The Father.

Perhaps it hasn’t, the world has a nasty habit of continuing on even when its inhabitants are sick and tired. Jason is determined to feel as if it has, though, because if he tries hard enough maybe he’ll stop feeling so numb.

“It’s not very good,” is what he says, even though it’s a lie. He feels like him in moments like these, moments where he snaps and his face burns with borrowed anger. He stares more at the food, willing it to give him the answers— to what, he’s not quite sure. The broccoli that’s stood in for his dad remains at the end of his fork, uneaten. Suddenly, the task of bringing food to his mouth feels monstrous and impossible.

Another sigh comes from the woman to his right. The chair at his left remains silent. “Jason. I can’t do this tonight.” She sounds tired. Good. Maybe if she’d tried a little harder none of this would have happened at all.

Is that an awful thing to think? Jason doesn’t know anymore. Often, he’s wrong about what he can say, but his father never seemed to care. His father never cared about anything but winning at chess and leaving his family for a man.

Jason speaks then, because his hair is curling more every day and his room isn’t very clean yet but chromosomes have to count for something good eventually. He speaks because the chair on the left is too quiet, and dinner is never complete without a biting remark, sharp words flung without care, and Jason used as a shield for both sides. His skin is raw from the venom his parents like to spit at each other.

“Why couldn’t you be a better wife,” comes out of his mouth, and he recognizes the words. Jason has never been good at being anything other than his dad.

Thick silence returns. The broccoli finally makes it into his mouth, but even the act of chewing is a chore. He’s not hungry, and he wants to crawl into bed and never look at his mother again. He’s afraid of how his words have dug in, how he’s destined to ruin her just as his father before.

“Eat your dinner,” comes out roughly from his right. The voice is sharp. The face is stony. There is a single, unshed tear. Jason pushes his plate away and stands.

“M’ not hungry.” He goes upstairs without an argument. The house is quiet. There is no yelling, no fights, no lies. No father that read to him when he had nightmares, until he was deemed too old for that comfort.

The dinner table is quiet. Two chairs stand empty. One woman sits with her head in her hands. Her chair is just as empty as the others, and her greatest fear is that her son will figure that out.

A family. Mother sits by herself at a table too big for one person, and she cries. Father is across town in a new apartment, he sits at a table and yells. Child lays in his bed and tries very very hard not to do either.

[spookedfish]

My submissions for Falsettotober day 1!! Prompts created by @lycheelsea !!

My thought process for this month is that I’ll post a oneshot on ao3 and try to have a related drawing to go with it? Hopefully that works out lol

[enderluna]

Prompt Two of @radiomogai 's Experiences Event!

What are your experiences with names, pronouns, and other referential language? How does it relate or not relate to other aspects of your identity?

Names have always been harder, plurality, but as we've gotten older our collective identity has become stable! so we use Lapin, which is rabbit in French. Rabbits are important to our identity after all!

We've used it/its as we prefer the nonhuman feeling to them!

We use the referential language: Lepus , Teras , Estia , Insan , Omen , Chori/Kenore. First two are Lepritch, 2nd two are Eldorr and last two are Kenochoric!

[yutopia-eleftheria]

Inktober 2024 Part 1

Day 1 to 6

Note : Since the original Prompt List didn't gave me inspiration (and I actually don't like it either so it doesn't help at all), I decided to do the Prompt List created by @van.neu on Instagram, which inspired me a lot more.

Here is her Prompt List :

RULES ! (I gave it to myself to add more "punch" and "difficulty") :

No duplicates in terms of Universes (with the only exception being the 2 Eternals drawings, because in alphabetical order, the 2 following for October are from the same Universe).

15 Classic Drawings

15 Minimalists Drawings

Day 16 (that is right in the middle, in that case, "Train", wil; be a combination of both : half classic, half minimalist).

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Day 1 : Galaxy

Style : Minimalist (1/15)

Universe : Inazuma Eleven GO

Characters : Jean-Pierre Lapin (Nishizono Shinsuke) {Center} / Plink Powai (Powai Pichori) {Upper Left} / Ogar Circes (Varga Sachs) {Upper Right} / Banda Krogue Jr. (Junia) {Bottom Left} / Aoba Gyr (Alvega Gordon) {Bottom Right}

Planets : Earth {Center} / Naiadi (Sazanaara) {Upper Left} / Silica (Sandorius) {Upper Right} / Fertilia (Ratoniik) {Bottom Left} / Magmavia (Gurdon) {Bottom Right}

Time Taken : 51 Minutes

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Day 2 : Fountain

Style : Minimalist (2/15)

Universe : Nagi No Asukara

Characters : Manaka Mukaido (Left) / Chisaki Hiradaira (On the Stone) / Kaname Isaki (Middle) / Hikari Sakishima (Right)

Time Taken : 1 Hour and 22 Minutes

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Day 3 : Research

Style : Minimalist (3/15)

Universe : Made In Abyss

Characters : Reg (Left) / Riko (Right)

Time Taken : 1 Hour and 28 Minutes

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Day 4 : Mistreat

Style : Classic (1/15)

Universe : Shingeki No Kyojin (Attack On Titan)

Characters : Annie Leonhart (Left) / Reiner Braun (Right)

Time Taken : 2 Hours and 19 Minutes

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Day 5 : Loot

Style : Minimalist (4/15)

Universe : One Piece

Character : Shanks

Time Taken : 36 Minutes

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Day 6 : Friendly

Style : Classic (2/15)

Universe : Kiznaiver

Characters : Niyama Nico (Left) / Hisomu Yoshiharu (Right)

Time Taken : 2 Hours and 50 Minutes