#i had to cherish this in my inbox for a while

[yourcomputerr]

every time that damn hozier song plays at work all i have running in my head is ‘you’re too skibidi’ AND ITS YOUR FAULT 😭

😈😈😈

[the-travelling-witch]

Pretend this is on anon, I don't like seeing my URL in asks😔

Hey girlie🤩😘😋☺️😊, it's ya boy Childe!

Did you giggle? I hope you did. I can't see, but I imagine you will when you read it because you're pretty when you do. Not to brag, except I absolutely do mean to, but I think I'm quite the expert on bringing a smile to that lovely face, don't ya think? I don't really have much to say, nothing much happened lately apart from the usual, and I wouldn't want to bore you. But I missed you. Hence the letter. Just checking in. If you're still curious about the details though, you'll have to ask me in person!

Waiting for you,

Ajax ♥️💕😘🥰💞💌💘💝

lol sorry i had to take a break from anon since i knew answering anything about the modern au always brings in more asks than my mind could handle at the time

Hello my dear,

you know I giggled, I always do, so by all means brag if you feel like it. Though I want to argue about the rest of your statement… well, if you like it that’s nothing to be mad about, I suppose.

Your stories never bore me, you know that too; actually, I’m happy whenever I get to hear from you. Why does it feel like one of us is always busy travelling around? Anyhow, I miss you too and can’t wait to see you again.

So stay safe so you can give me all the details later, okay?

Forever yours,

Holly

[lnfours]

you | l.n

summary: what’s more romantic: laying cuddled up next to the fireplace on christmas eve with the love of your life, or that special item in the little black box with a bow?

warnings: established relationship, mentions of sexual content, holiday vibes, and tooth rotting fluff.

message from jordan: hi everyone! here’s to the first christmas fic you’ll be receiving from me! don’t worry, focal point is still very much in production and will most likely have a chapter coming out later this week :) i hope you all enjoy!! sending you all my love, as always 🤍

masterlist | inbox

the orange and yellow flames kept the both of you warm as you laid with your head on his chest. his fingers absentmindedly drawing shapes into the soft skin of your bicep, your head resting on his chest as you found yourself listening to the sound of his beating heart.

the one that only beats for you.

your legs were intertwined with his, and you had found yourself tracing over the indents in his abdomen with your fingernails. silky soft and tanned skin littered with moles and freckles. the same ones you made sure you pressed kisses to every time you found yourself in their path. they littered his skin like stars in the night sky. and to you, they were just as beautiful. one of your favorite features of his.

his breath tickled your neck, smiling softly when he placed a kiss to the skin where your neck met your collarbone. you felt him pull you closer against him, leaving no gaps between you. not even enough space for air.

it was the little moments like these that you cherished the most, the ones you held close to your heart. the ones you’d think of whenever someone would mention how well the two of you mesh together, that you’re the definition of his soulmate. his version of a nice, warm soup you crave on a cold and windy winter day.

simply enough, you were each other’s soul healing medicine.

“missed you,” he mumbled against the crook of your neck, “sorry i couldn’t help you bring your stuff over.”

he had told you to bring more things from your apartment to his house. and when you protested, he argued that you already had a side of the vanity in the bathroom filled with your makeup, skincare and any other possible hygiene products you could think of. you had even taken over a side of his closet.

and maybe a drawer or two of his dresser that you hadn’t told him about. instead, while in search of a pair of socks, he had found a couple pairs of your pajamas in the drawer.

the simple fact that you had been leaving your things behind whenever you’d go back to your apartment for a couple days was like little reminders to him. reminders that you’d be back in a few days time, that it wasn’t a temporary situation to you. this was real. and you were all in, just like him.

“‘s okay, max was here to help,” you said, “sorry i took over one of your shelves. i wanted to bring some books,”

he shook his head, “don’t be sorry, i like your stuff being here. makes it feel more like home.”

you smiled, tilting your head to meet the pair of blueish-green eyes you had fallen head first in love with. the ones you had seen one night out in london, the ones that you had been mesmerized by ever since.

he tapped on your arm lightly, a silent signal that he was going to move. you untangled yourself from him with a soft frown, not really wanting to reposition yourself beings the previous state had been far more comfortable. you sat up as he did, watching as he kneeled towards the tree, picking up various packages and looking at them before putting them back down. it was like he was looking for one in particular.

“what’re you doing?”

“looking for something,” he said softly, “i can’t remember where i put it- oh here it is.”

you furrowed your eyebrows when he turned around with a small little box in his hand. a black box with a white bow on the top, too neatly done to have been done by him. you squinted at him, taking it cautiously.

“it’s not christmas yet,” you questioned his actions.

“i know, but i’ve been trying to decide if i wanted to give it to you early,” he said, “but i think now is the perfect time. besides the fact that i’m impatient.”

you chuckled softly, undoing the bow on top and playfully tossing it his way. his reflexes allowed him to catch it, placing it down on the floor next to him. he took the time to take in your figure, how pretty you looked in the dim light of the christmas tree and city lights shining in through the windows. how his tshirt had ended up around your frame, hair slightly messy.

to him, you were the most perfect person in the world. the only person he envisioned a life with, who he wanted to come home to at the end of the day. the only one who understood him better than he knew himself. he thanked every god possible and counted every lucky star for the night in london that had changed his life.

“i swear, if something pops out at me, so help me god,”

he laughed, “nothings gonna pop out at you, baby. promise.”

you squinted, narrowing your eyes towards him as a sign that you didn’t necessarily believe him. you lifted the lid of the box with slight caution, and when it was clear that he was telling the truth about there being no surprises, you fully opened it. however, the gift inside the box raised more questions.

“a key?” you lifted your head, letting your eyes meet his as you held it up, “to what?”

“our home.”

you blinked at him, speechless for a moment as he smirked at you.

“wait, what-?”

“move in with me,” he said, “i’ve been thinking about it, for a while now actually, and you’re the person i want to have a life with. i want to come home and find you on the couch watching tv or dancing along to the music playing in the kitchen while you’re cooking dinner. youre the one i want to wake up next to every morning, the one i want to say goodnight to every night before i fall asleep. it’s you, not anyone else,”

you fought the tears welling up in your eyes from his sweet words as he continued, “and i love the fact that every single one of your things has a spot next to mine. i want this crazy little life that we have forever, so this is my way of asking if you’ll move in with me.”

you bit on your bottom lip as you smiled, “i mean, i don’t really go to my apartment anymore anyway, so-“

he didn’t let you finish before he was pulling on your arms to bring you closer to him, making you squeal as you landed on top of him on the floor. you giggled when he pressed his lips to yours, kissing him back. the kiss only breaking when your smiles got to be too wide.

“i love you,” he mumbled against your lips, “more than anything.”

you hummed, “i’ll always love you more, though.”

warmth spread for your chest at the idea of taking your relationship one step forward. you had known for a while that he was the one you wanted to do everything with, but knowing he was on the exact same page as you was a feeling like no other. a state of euphoria. one that made you feel giddy inside, like you were back in high school with a crush all over again. the same kind of exciting feeling that you prayed never died.

and as long as he was yours and you were his, that was never going to go away.

he flipped the two of you over so he was back to hovering over you on the floor, the same position the two of you had been in earlier in the night. you played with the hairs on the back of his neck absentmindedly as you spoke.

“even though it’s not a new home, does this count enough that we get to christen every surface of this apartment?”

he laughed softly, nose bumping against yours, fingers lightly tracing into the skin of your waist underneath your shirt, his lips brushing against yours sending shivers down your spine. the kind only he could cause.

“do we even have any spots left?”

“oh i’ve got a mental list, don’t worry.” you smiled as his head fell to your collarbone. the sound of his giggle echoing through the room, causing you to laugh too.

your eternal happy place.

“then, what’re we waiting for?”

“i like the way you think, pretty boy.”

[chososcamgirl]

(SHE’S) JUST A PHASE CHAPTER EIGHT: choose your fighter!

masterlist

She tossed her phone onto the bed, the sound echoing in the silence of the room, and buried her face in her hands, a deep sigh escaping her lips. Why couldn’t her friends find it in themselves to be happy for her? Sukuna had his flaws—plenty of them—but so did she. They had both stumbled through their relationship and while she didn’t want to return to that tumultuous past, the ache of loneliness was becoming harder to ignore.

She thought about the way he made her feel, the intoxicating blend of exhilaration and vulnerability that surged through her in his presence. His touch was a sanctuary, enveloping her in the warmth that felt both safe and electric as if every heartbeat synchronised with the unspoken connection they shared. It was in those moments that she felt seen, cherished, and undeniably alive; yet the aftertaste of that sweetness was often tainted by his erratic behaviour.

God, why did he have to be such a cunt? If only he had shown a hint of consideration, if only he hadn't allowed his insecurities to seep into their moments together, this decision would have been made hours ago. She could have stepped forward with clarity instead of being mired in confusion, torn between the yearning for his touch and the frustration of his thoughtlessness. Each time she recalled the warmth of his embrace, it came with the sharp sting of disappointment, a reminder that the comfort he offered was often shadowed by his lack of commitment.

It was a painful paradox-craving his closeness while grappling with the reality of his emotional distance. In that swirling tumult of feelings, she found herself caught in an endless cycle of hope and disillusionment, desperate for a resolution that would allow her to either embrace him in a way that wouldn’t leave her feeling like shit.

Her thoughts shifted to Megumi. He had offered in a way that made her heart race, the implication lingering like a whisper. She bit her lip, contemplating the choice before her. Megumi would be a far better option than Sukuna; he had a steadiness about him that she found comforting.

Flipping onto her stomach, she buried her face in the pillow, muffling a scream of frustration. Here she was, torn between dignity and desire. Should she text Sukuna and risk reopening old wounds, or reach out to Megumi and swallow her pride? The options felt like a cruel joke—two paths that led to equally undesirable destinations. Yet, amidst the chaos, she understood one thing: sometimes a girl had to make choices that didn’t feel right, simply to find a moment of solace in the storm.

Finally, she raised her head from the indent in the pillow, her thoughts swirling with a mix of reluctance and resignation. Swallowing her pride—and the certainty that she would regret this moment later—she reached for her phone, fingers trembling slightly as she opened iMessage. The soft, rhythmic clicks of the keyboard filled the quiet room as she typed one of the most clichéd and overused lines of the 21st century, a phrase as worn as her emotions felt.

Her finger hovered over the “send” button, a moment stretching into what felt like an eternity. With a heavy breath, she finally succumbed to the impulse and pressed it.

Read at: 9:47 PM

Well, that was fast. Had he been waiting for her to text him all along? The notification blinked before her, a stark reminder of her vulnerability and the tangled web of choices she had woven. A mixture of anticipation and dread coursed through her, leaving her to wonder if this moment would be the beginning of something new—or a replay of the past.

extras!

• the enemies to lovers is STRONG in this chapter

• honorary toge brainrot reference

• more cameos (also guys please do not ask for a cameo bc it’s filling up my inbox😭 in the most nicest way possible just let it be please <3 if i want you to be featured i will, keep in mind not every chapter will have a cameo)

• more stsg propaganda because THEYRE CANON IDC

• yuta being whipped part 73

• yuji def put all the new fans onto his fav horror movie recs (hereditary and i am legend)

• the girls are FIGHTINGGG (and not in a good way)

• yn being a bitch to maki on GOD she’s pissing me off like why is yn putting dick first

• maki being nothing but sweetheart part 119

• nobara cooking us #wedeserveit

• maki left the apartment and went to yuta’s after for some… therapy 😊

• WHO DID WE TEXT GUYS… MEGUMI OR SUKUNA?? FIND OUT *looks at watch* NEXT WEEK! 🫵

a/n: i’m really edging you guys with the last part THIS IS SO FUN😭😭 take your vote now! did we cave into daddykuna’s text.. or did we say fuck it and text megumi.. find out in 6 days!! <3 this was also probably my favourite chapter to write so far GUYS ITS JUST GETTING STARTED

taglist: @shokosbunny @luvvmae @catobsessedlady @satoryaa @prozacprinc3ss @essjujutsu @therealsatorugojo @yeehawslap @gojodickbig @dawnisatotalqueen @j2upiters @nappingnai @lalalasillybilly3000 @totallytatum @3cst4syy @lysaray @saltypuffin1040 @aozui @noodles-icetea @makeshiftproject @kurtcobaingirlie @kokoiinuts @renbittt @dashingaurries @slvttycorpse @cuupidsss @mochroialainn @tenjikusstuff4 @oroborosttheiii @ichcocat @laughingfcx @drugzforyou @sugurubabe @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @tyigerz @yoyo-yui @megoomies @yizmiu @jasminasblog22 @yomamablazeit @marst4rz @guitarstringed-scars @qtnfer @kalulakunundrum @lovefrominaya @beepbopzlorp @iheartlindz @itsdragonius @meguemii @chilichopsticks @7kn0wn @starantulas @1l-ynn @pastriepuppy @rcveriees @solaqes @starrysho @sukunaspillow

*if i can't tag you please change your tag settings otherwise i will remove you from the list!

[2-dsimp]

Imagine almost drowning at sea only to get snatched up by a yandere boxcrab.

Yandere!Boxcrab with an untamed fringe covering his hetochromia eyes of Yellow and Black. He had freckles upon his flesh packed within his hard shelled exterior. Lithe in frame, lean muscled, and towered above most of his peers with his many long legs.

Yandere!Boxcrab that has always dreamed of the day of when he’d get a beloved of his own to shelter and protect within his crabby arms. He bided his time traveling upon the sea floor, migrating towards the mating hub of crustacean folk like himself.

Yandere!Boxcrab who’s instinctually wired to grab the first potential mate he saw which happened to be you. Sinking down to where he dwelled within the oceans embrace.

`Oh a darling~ r-ripe for the taking! I must hurry and kidnap them before the other bachelors get any ideas!` The Boxcrab man fretted as he swam towards you capturing your body within his grubby clutches. Immediately hightailing it out of the massive gathering of mate snatching chaos. With his prized possession in tow.

Yandere!Boxcrab who Already felt at peace with the world now that you were his lover now. But he assumed that it’d be best to take you to his underwater cave where an air pocket was present. Since he knew that humans couldn’t manage without oxygen for too long.

“M-my wife! I’ve finally g-got my wife! I’ll take care of you, I’ll make sure you’re filled with our babies. For the rest of our marriage~” Krato said giddily, eyes alit with pure elation at finally having someone of his own to love, cherish, and defile with his eggs. Till they’re popping out multiple clutches of future generations to come.

Since Boxcrabs naturally had a introverted temperament to hide their face within their large crab pincer arms. Your suitor gushed like a shy fanboy peeking at you from behind his pincher appendages. Admiring you from a close distance within the open water pool inside the cavern he stowed you away in.

But then he paused, his gaze turning fretful seeing you shivering. His mouth formed into a wobbly frown as he realized how cold it must be for you in the underwater cave.

“Oh m-my poor love is c-cold. No no no that’s not g-good. Need them warm, h-have to provide ”He chittered anxiously, and quickly ducked down into the lagoon pool and disappeared for a moment. Quickly scurrying under water to fish for something

After a bit of underwater swimming, your groom resurfaced within the pool. In his pincer he had a pile of sea shells. Most likely of clam shells.

“I’m s-sorry I don’t have any human c-clothing. I’ll…make a makeshift uh blanket for you using these shells~”

The nervous crustacean murmured. Setting his pile of shells down on a rock near him. He began working quickly to string the shells together with some seaweed in order to create a makeshift top and bottoms out of shells.

His pointed crab legs Teetering over to your unconscious body that he stripped naked. And clothed with some minor struggle thanks to his lack of dexterous fingers.

Your Boxcrab then inboxed you underneath his body in a protective embrace. Making sure you were in his possession as he was paranoid about anything trying to steal you away from him. For now he’d be content wallowing in the unique scent of your body aroma. While he awaited for consciousness to come to you.

Krato was so excited to plan y’all’s life together. Just you and him plus your future clutches. He couldn’t wait till you opened your eyes to your brand new life under the sea!

——/————/——

A/n: saw a tiktok about cute boxcrabs and decided to make this at 4am💀

[bunni-v1]

can i request another “what do we have here” but with hugo? the way you write is so good thank you for my life 🙏

What do we have here...? PT. 3

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2

🍓There's like actually six requests like this for Hugo in my inbox lol. You're the most recent though, so you are my little victim. Kisses. Anyway I was gonna add more characters, but my burn out is so bad rn because of midterms, so please god give me what little grace you people have left in your hearts for my depressed ass. I plan on doing this series for lads next as my official introduction of it to my blog, I hope you guys won't mind.

Tw: NSFW; Deepthroating (choking); heavy hand focus; unedited

Info: Hugo Vlad x Reader; NSFW

SPECIAL tag for @cilomarc because they've had to listen to me whine about this fic for months lol

MDNI

Hugo Vlad is an interesting man - a busy man with little free time to spare on most trivial things. While he wouldn't call your sex life trivial, per-say, it unfortunately took the back burner when he was up to his neck in secret missions and shady business. Not that you don't have sex, obviously you do, the collection locked away in his phone is proof of that! It just that, usually, you don't have much time for it. So... the two of you have had to be creative about how you get off while the other is there.

As previously mentioned, Hugo's solution is filming as many moments he has with you as humanly possible without entirely ruining the mood. His camera roll (on his second, private phone that only comes out when he is texting you or Vivian, of course) is fill to the brim with pictures of the two of you together. Candid shots of you around the house, blurry pictures he got while you tried to smack the camera out of his hands, there were even some with you and Vivian posing cutely together around the city. All very cute things he cherishes more than he'd ever let you know, but we aren't here for that.

What piques our interest is what he has in an encrypted file, kept separate from his usual camera roll. Inside it are hundreds of photos and videos of you together, tangled in sheets and skin slick from sweat. They range from mostly innocent to downright depraved, all carefully organized by type for ease of access. It was all made for lonely nights without you, when the bed in the hotel room was cold and his dick was so hard he couldn't think of anything but you and you're cute little face. Oh, how he wished he could run home to you and have you now. He couldn't, of course, so instead he clicks open the file and starts strategizing how he wants to relieve himself tonight.

He decides on three videos, carefully selected for an easy but slow release. He likes to savor you, after all.

The first one he clicks open has your legs spread open for him, pretty lavender laced panties on display. There's a clear wet spot in the middle, it makes him smile. He coos lowly behind the camera about how cute you are, gloved fingers coming up to slide up the lacy hems. Your thighs shudder, and slowly they draw together at the apex of your pelvic bone. He draws them down along your little mound, feather light in his touch, glossing over your sensitive folds and stopping right over the wetness you've accumulated. He taps his fingers a few times, huffing a chuckle at the way you squirm, then draws a little heart against you. Regardless of if you recognized the shape or not, you whine at the sensation, moving your hips to press into him further. He doesn't allow you to get release, flinching back and tutting at you as if you were a petulant child. He only resumes his motions when your hips settle obediently in the sheets, fingers hooking over the side of your lingered and tucking it out of his way, revealing your glistening pussy to the camera. He made sure to get a good lasting shot of it, settling the frame on your glimmering lips before slowly sliding his fingers between your folds. He takes his sweet time collecting your juices, then carefully spreads your lips to reveal the shining pearl hidden between them. A smooth sound of praise wafts through the room, and then the video ends.

He's quick to select the next one, the camera set across the room of his office, opposite of his plush red couch. You are naked, back to the camera, standing between his spread legs. His posture is relaxed, eyes eating you up like his last meal, hungry and certain of what he wants as his fingers trail up your side lightly. He whispers something that makes you giggle, easing the tension between your shoulders just like that. He pats his leg when you appear calm, and you settle yourself upon it like you were made to be there. A few more soft words are spoken, a gentle kiss, and then you are slowly moving yourself along his thigh. Your hips move in hesitant rolls to start, small and unsure as you work yourself upon him. This was one of the first times you'd done such a thing with him, so of course you were nervous. His eyes never leave your body, but his hands don't reach out to you either, he simply enjoys the show. You were in power here, controlling the pace as you pick up speed, feeling more bold with his eyes on you. The faster you get the more sounds you make and the hungrier he seems to be, devouring each move, each sound, with an intensity that can only be described as predatory. Still, he does not touch you. You begin to bounce yourself along his thigh, gripping his shoulders now to try and up the friction, it is successful, head leaning back in a desperate cry. His face twitches slightly at the sound, fingers curling tighter against his face. When you finally cum, you slump forward, and that is when he allows himself to touch you. Gentle hands soothing over your back like you are the most delicate porcelain in the whole of New Eridu. Before the video ends, his eyes slide over to the camera, knowingly pressing you closer to his chest.

The final video he selected for himself is a rather... unruly one, even for him. The camera is pointing down to you, fingers dancing along his belt with practiced ease as you unbuckle it. Button and zipper following suit rather quickly so you can tug the half-hard member free, an audible sigh of relief leaving his mouth. In the background there is the distinct chatter of people, soft jazz floating through the air, and the warmth of dim lights heats your skin. You are in public, on your knees, just barely hidden from sight as you begin to suckle on his tip. Your eyes flutter between the camera and his member, slowly inching more and more in your mouth with each shift. His hand places itself on your head when you have half of him inside your mouth, twitching impatiently but remaining still. You bob your head like that for a while, unable to fit much more in your mouth without strain. His restrained huffy breaths fill up the audio, overpowering the background noise with its intensity. His fingers begin to massage against your scalp, quietly begging you to take just a little more in. You don't budge, though, keeping the same pace and same length in your mouth. Your hand making up for the missing space, smearing spit along the length. He would've been content with that, truly, he knew he could've taken it well for you... but they you flutter your eyes up. You look past the camera and directly at him, smiling around him just a little. Your warning is the slight flinch on his hand, then his is forcing you down the rest of him. A sharp gag rips from your throat, but he does not allow you to pull back, groaning at the way your throat contracts desperate for air. Tears well in your eyes, quickly falling down your cheeks and ruining your mascara, making you the most beautiful mess he'd ever seen. He tugs you off him by your hair, allowing you to catch your breath, and then he is pushing you back down just as roughly. He fucks your face like that, hard and fast and desperate to make it as quick as possible to avoid being caught. Little sounds of happiness bubble from you, sending him spiraling quickly down the unending hole of pleasure. You swallow harshly, and that's what does him is, a deep grumble of pleasure ripping from his chest. He cums down your throat, enjoying the way you struggle to swallow it all up. The video ends after he pulls you off his length, mouth open and proudly displaying that you had gotten it all down, smile proud and directed right at him.

The memory of that smile is the perfect finisher, sticky white release coating his fingers. A satisfied sigh leaving his mouth as he stretches his fingers out. It would be much better down your throat, but alas, he couldn't give that to you until you met again. A soft smile lights up his face, yes, he would certainly give you all you wanted during your next encounter. He was needing something new for the collection anyway.

[willalove75]

Heya! Hope you and your family have been doing alright!!

Okay so Lady D request bc honestly, that woman has me in a chokehold. So I was thinking something along the lines of reader has been dating Alcina for years and one day when her and the girls are out Mother Miranda kinda just takes them for cadou experiments. They survive ofc but the mutation caused them to have a type of angelic appearance (aka wings everywhere. I was also thinking like more red tailed hawk like wings instead of crow like ones) but was deemed an unfit vessel for Eva for some reason or another and basically just kinda hands them back to Alcina after weeks of her and her daughters not fucking knowing where reader went at all??? Basically a reunion that’s super emotional. Angst/comfort with some tooth rotting fluff somewhere would be great, please and thank you

super sorry for the big request though— I just had a pretty good idea for the request I wanted to ask. Anywho, I hope you have an amazing rest of your day/night ^^

Thank you SO MUCH for this awesome request!!

I've been going through my inbox wanting to get some requests done since I've horrifically neglected all of my asks for so long and loved this one! I'm so sorry for taking FOREVER to answer this! (And sincere apologies to everyone else who dropped a request in my inbox that I haven't gotten to yet!)

Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: reader is kidnapped, murder, blood drinking.

"Do you guys have to go?" You ask Alcina with a hint of a whine in your voice.

Alcina clicks her tongue as she finishes applying her signature red lipstick.

"Unfortunately, we do, draga mea. Mother Miranda's orders." She says as she caps the lipstick and sets it down on her vanity.

Alcina turns towards you and scoops you into her arms, sitting you in her lap. You try and give her your best pout, but she gently kisses it away. Her lips travel down your jaw and you all but melt into her.

"I wish I could go with you. I hate when you all have to leave me all by myself here."

"I know, draga." Alcina says between kisses. "But we'll be back before you know it." You let out a low groan and Alcina chuckles into you. "Besides, I have a present for you that should keep you preoccupied while we're gone."

With your interest peaked, you pull back from Alcina and look up at her with curiosity in your eyes.

"You got me a present?"

"Of course I did, draga." Alcina says as she wipes the lipstick marks from your face and neck.

She adjusts the pendant of the necklace she gave you when you first started dating, admiring the Dimitrescu crest that sits proudly on your chest. You haven't taken the necklace off once since she gifted it to you and it warms Alcina's heart knowing how much you cherish something so important to her.

Alcina places you on the floor and stands up to make her way to her wardrobe. In the top drawer, she pulls out a book and hands it to you.

In your hands is a special edition of a new book series you've been eager to read. You trace the gorgeous patterns along the cover and look up at Alcina with wide eyes.

"Alcina, this is beautiful!" You say as your smile grows wide. "I thought Duke wasn't coming back for a few more weeks!"

"Well, I know how excited you were to start this book, so as soon as Mother Miranda informed me of the trip she wanted the girls and I to take today, I had the Duke make a special delivery."

Her thoughtfulness touches your heart and you wrap your arms around her long legs and bury your face into her dress.

"Thank you, thank you so much!"

Alcina lifts you into her arms so you can give her a proper hug and you quickly wrap your arms around her neck.

"I love you so much, draga mea." She whispers.

"I love you so much too, Alci. Thank you."

"Anything for you, my love."

The two of you hold each other in your arms for a few more moments before Alcina sets you down and you escort her downstairs. The girls meet you at the front door.

"Ready, girls?" Alcina asks.

"Yes, mother!" They reply in unison.

"Then we shall be off. Goodbye, draga. We should be back in time for supper. I hope you enjoy your novel." Alcina says as she bends down to your level.

"Bye Alci, I'll miss you guys. I love you." You say as you kiss her goodbye.

"Și eu te iubesc." Alcina whispers against your lips before she stands back up. (I love you too).

"Bye, y/n." Bela says as she gives you a hug goodbye.

"Bye, Bela. I hope you guys have a good time."

"We probably won't." Cassandra says as she gives you a hug.

"Oh stop." You say with a laugh, hugging her back.

"Bye bye!" Daniela says before pulling you in for a hug that's just a little too tight.

"Bye Dani." You say as you try and squeeze her back, even though you know the little strength you have doesn't affect her at all.

Alcina and the girls get into the carriage and you close the front doors. Stopping by the kitchen, you grab yourself a cup of tea before heading into the library.

The library has always been one of your favorite rooms in the entire castle. Before coming to the castle, you only owned a few books that were in rough shape before you started reading them. By the time you got here, they were being held together with nothing but tape and hope.

When Alcina started to court you a few years ago, she learned of your love of books and started gifting you gorgeous copies of both your favorites and hers. Ever since then you've been obsessed with keeping your books as pristine as possible. Going as far as not cracking the spines and god-forbid bending the corner of a page to keep your place. You've accumulated a small collection of bookmarks as well over the years.

Making yourself comfortable in one of the couches near the fireplace, you take a sip of tea before opening your book. The book sucked you in quickly and time seemed to pass quickly as you read the captivating story.

Just as you go to take a sip of your now cold tea, something out of the corner of your eye catches your attention. Looking over, you're startled when you see Mother Miranda walking out from behind one of the bookshelves.

"Oh! M-Mother Miranda, I'm so sorry, I didn't know you were here." You say nervously.

Mother Miranda knew about your relationship with Alcina and wasn't thrilled, but also didn't forbid it. Everything about her unsettled you and both you and Alcina agreed it was best to keep you as far away from her as possible.

"Alcina isn't here, is there something I can help you with?" You ask, trying to keep your voice from shaking.

Her crystal blue eyes pierce through her golden mask as she slowly steps closer to you. The hairs on your arms stand on end and a chill goes down your spine.

"Mother -"

"Hush, child." She commands and you snap your mouth shut. "I am aware Alcina is not here. There's a reason I sent her and the girls away for the day." She says as her eyes narrow at you.

"What - what do you mean?" You ask as you back yourself further into the corner of the couch.

"I had to get them to leave, of course. Alcina would never let me take her precious little pet without a fight."

Your heart starts to beat erratically in your chest and you spill some of your tea on the table as you shakily put your cup down.

"Mother Miranda -"

"SILENCE!" She shouts, causing you to jump. "I have tried everything, failed experiment after failed experiment. Desperately trying to find the perfect vessel for my Eva. Failure after failure. But you. There's something special about you." Fear seeps into your bones as she steps closer. "You very well may be my perfect vessel, and I will not let a failed experiment stop me from getting my Eva back!"

Mother Miranda grabs at you and you try and push her away, your book falling face down onto the floor.

"NO!" You scream as you try and fight back.

Mother Miranda grabs at you, her talons scratching your chest as she grabs ahold of your necklace. The chain snaps in the fight, causing the necklace to fall onto the couch.

The fight between you two doesn't last long, Mother Miranda is way stronger than you and is able to grab the hair on the back of your head and turn your face up to look into her icy eyes.

"You are coming with me." She says moments before crows surround you both and you feel yourself flying through the air.

Suddenly your knees hit a dirty stone floor and you're kneeling before Mother Miranda. Looking around, you realize you must be in her laboratory and tears stream down your cheeks.

"Please, please Mother Miranda, don't do this!" You plead. "Please, let me just talk to her. Please let me see Alcina!"

"That's enough!" She says as she grabs you by your throat and lifts you in the air. "Not another word out of you. You are mine now. Understand?"

Gasping for air with tears streaming down your face, you can only try and nod before Mother Miranda drops you to the ground. She walks around her lab, gathering items before standing in front of you once more.

"Get on the table." She says, gesturing to the surgical table nearby. As you stand, you see various medical instruments, saws, needles, and a large jar with a hideous looking creature floating in the liquid inside of it. The cadou.

Mother Miranda pushes you towards the table and you lay down on it as you tremble. Miranda moves around you and you see her lift a mask and put it over your face. Tears stream down your temples into your hair as she flips a switch and air blows into the mask.

You watch as Miranda picks up a large needle and your eyes begin to lose focus. The last thing you feel is a painful, sharp pinch in your arm before everything goes black.

-

Alcina and the girls step out of the carriage just as the sun begins to set. Once inside, the girls fly off and Alcina makes her way upstairs.

"Draga, we're home!" She calls out as she makes her way towards the bedroom.

She opens the doors to your shared chambers, expecting to find you napping, and is surprised when she finds the bed still made and untouched.

Alcina makes her way to the atelier, thinking you could be in there and once again finds the room empty.

"Draga?" She calls out as she walks through the winding halls of her castle.

"What's wrong, mama?" Daniela asks as she forms in front of her mother.

"Nothing, draga. I just can't seem to find Y/N."

"Oh, weird. I haven't seen her either, actually. You think she's still in the library?"

"Perhaps. Lets go look." Alcina replies.

Daniela and Alcina walk into the library and Alcina starts to worry when she doesn't find you there either.

"Where on Earth is she?" Alcina says as she paces around the library.

"Mother, look!" Daniela says as she finds your book on the floor and spilled tea.

"What, what happened here?" Alcina says as she sees the book open, face down on the floor. Some of the pages of your brand new book are bent, which immediately concerns Alcina.

"This is so weird." Daniela says as she picks up the book. "She would never leave a book like that, no less let the pages of her books get bent."

Daniela hands the book to Alcina and the look of concern grows on Alcina's face.

"Girls!" Alcina calls.

Bela and Cassandra swarm into the room a moment later.

"Yes mother?" Bela asks.

"Girls, have you seen Y/N?"

"I haven't." Bela responds.

"No, why?" Asks Cassandra.

"We can't find her." Alcina responds.

Daniela lets out a small gasp which pulls Alcina's attention away from her other daughters.

"Mom." Daniela says as she pulls out your necklace from between the couch cushions.

Alcina's heart breaks when she sees your broken necklace. Something happened, something horrible, she feels it in her soul.

"Girls, I need you to search the castle, including the dungeons. Something's happened to her." Alcina says as she clutches the necklace.

The girls nod and swarm off. Alcina paces in the library, desperately trying to find a clue as to what happened or where you went. After speaking to the head maid, she lets Alcina know that the last time she had seen you was when you got your tea after her and the girls had left. No one has been in or out of the castle since then.

The girls come back to Alcina and let her know that there's no sign of you. She hasn't been able to hear your heartbeat and panic starts to set in.

"We'll find her, mother." Bela tries to reassure Alcina.

"We have to." Daniela says as tears well in her eyes.

Alcina pulls Daniela into a hug and kisses her on top of her head.

"We will, girls." She says, desperately trying to keep her voice steady.

After searching the castle for an entire day, Alcina caves in and calls Heisenberg to ask for his help. He sends his lycans out in the village to try and find her, but they come back empty handed.

The more days that pass, the less hopeful Alcina becomes that she'll find you. Ever since that day, she's clutched your necklace and cried herself to sleep, confused, angry, and scared.

A week later, Alcina has nearly lost all hope. One morning she can't bring herself to get out of bed and just lays there with tears streaming down her cheeks. When she doesn't show for breakfast, the girls go to her bedroom and find her.

They tried being strong for their mother, but the truth was that they were all scared for you as well. Seeing their mother so upset broke their hearts and they all climbed into bed with her and cried for you.

"She couldn't have just left, right?" Cassandra asks.

"Cass." Bela scolds.

"I'm serious! There's no way she just left us. She wouldn't have, right, mom? She couldn't have."

"I don't think so, draga. I don't know what happened or where she is, but I don't think she decided to leave." Alcina says.

"When we find out who took her, I'm going to gut them." Cassandra says.

Daniela bursts into tears after trying to hold back and Alcina pulls her closer to her.

"It's alright, draga. It's alright." Alcina says, trying to comfort her youngest.

"She must be so scared." Daniela cries. "Who would have taken her?"

"I don't know, draga mea, I don't know. But when we find out who took her, they are going to pay. I promise."

"I hope she comes back. I miss her, she was like a second mother to us. I wanted to call her 'mama' but I wasn't sure if she'd like it. Now I don't know if I'll ever get the chance to." Daniela says as she cries harder and Alcina can't help but feel her heart shatter in her chest.

"You'll get the chance, darling."

"You don't know that! What is she's dead?! What are we going to do?!"

"Dani don't say that!" Bela scolds.

"It's alright, draga." Alcina says to Bela. "I don't know what we will do, my love." She says to Daniela as she kisses her head. "I don't know."

-

You emerge from darkness and all you feel is pain. From the top of your head to the tips of your toes, everything is in excruciating pain. A pained whimper escapes from your dried, chapped lips and your eyes start to flutter open. A bright white light blinds you and the pain in your head explodes. You open your mouth to try and cry out but your throat is so dry barely any sound comes out.

Consciousness comes and goes for some time, but you have no idea how much time passes. Unsure if it's minutes, hours or days in between.

Opening your eyes again, the bright light isn't as painful and you feel more aware of your surroundings. The pain is still there, but not as horrific as it first was. Hearing a sound, you turn your head to see Mother Miranda looking at liquids in a test tube at her desk.

"You're finally awake." She says with zero hint of emotion.

You open your mouth to speak but still can't.

"Ah, yes. One moment." She says.

Walking over to you, Mother Miranda unclips the bindings that kept you tied to the table and helps you sit up. The world spins and you feel like you're going to be sick but nothing comes up. Miranda hands you a glass of water and you gulp it down. Your throat feels a little soothed but there's still a thirst it didn't quench.

"How are you feelings?"

"I - I don't know." You say with a hoarse voice.

"Any pain?" She asks as she takes a clipboard off of her desk.

"Yes, everything."

"What, specifically?"

Taking a moment to gauge how you feel, you feel an intense pain in your head and move to touch your head. Miranda grabs your hand and stops you.

"Don't touch that. It's still healing." She says.

"What?"

"Your cadou incision."

"You, you put it in my head?"

"Of course I did, that's where I implant it on all of my experiments." She says matter-of-factly. "Now, where else are you in pain?"

There's a strange feeling in your shoulder blades. It's almost like an itch but something feels like it's poking you from the inside. You relay how you're feeling to Mother Miranda and she hums and writes on her clipboard.

"Can I have more water?" You ask, hoping to relieve the thirst you feel.

Mother Miranda glances at you before pouring another glass and handing it to you.

Chugging the glass, you notice the thirst doesn't go away and you groan in frustration.

"What's the matter?" She asks. You can tell she doesn't actually care about your wellbeing and is asking for more information regarding her experiment.

"I'm so thirsty and the water isn't helping."

Mother Miranda clicks her tongue and sighs.

"Very well. Let me see what I can do." She says nothing else and leaves the room.

Confused, you try and stand but your legs are weak so you just lay back down on the table.

You must have dozed off because the next thing you're aware of is the thirst growing even more and extreme pain in your shoulder blades. Groaning, you squeeze your eyes shut and try to breathe through the pain. It begins to subside and the moment you're able to take a breath, you feel something shift under your skin and rip through. A scream rips through your lungs as you uncontrollably twitch and you fall off of the table.

Something pushes it way out of your shoulder blade and you continue to scream. You hear something hit the ground next to you and feel the same thing on your other shoulder blade. More screams rip through you and you pray you pass out from the pain.

But luck is not on your side and you feel something else push through your shoulder blade and hit the ground on the other side of you. Opening your eyes, you see gigantic wings on the ground and this time you let out a scream of fear instead of pain.

Mother Miranda walks in and sees you laying on the floor with gigantic wings splayed out.

"What did you do to me?!" You scream.

"How interesting." She says to herself, ignoring you.

"What did you do?!"

"I gave you a gift. Something you should be grateful for." She snaps.

"Grateful?! Look at what you've done to me!"

"You are magnificent!" She yells.

"You're a monster!"

"SILENCE! That is enough from you. Be quiet and let me examine you."

The pain and screaming starts to catch up with you and you don't have the energy to keep fighting her so you let her conduct her exam.

She holds out one of your wings and you whimper from the soreness. Unlike Miranda's wings that are black as night, your wings are brown down near your shoulders and turn to a stark white. The tips of your feathers are also brown and Mother Miranda notes the pattern on her clipboard.

When she's done with her exam, she helps you up and back onto the table. She conducts a full-body exam and notes no other changes. The thirst you felt earlier is even stronger and you ask her for more water.

Downing the glass she hands you, you slam the glass down on the table and claw at your throat, frustrated that the feeling still hasn't gone away.

"You still feel thirsty?" Mother Miranda asks.

"Yes! No amount of water has been helping. What's wrong with me?" You cry.

Mother Miranda mutters to herself something you don't catch and she leaves the room.

Carefully, you lay on your side on the table and cry.

Some times passes and Mother Miranda comes back in. Looking up, you see she has a terrified villager with her, a young woman. Mother Miranda pushes her to the ground and you see the fear in her eyes.

Scared, you look at Mother Miranda who is looking at you with nothing but cold indifference.

"Who is that? Why is she here?" You ask.

The girl begins to pray.

"Great ones, hear our voice, together as one in reverence. We call on thee within the endless dark to deliver us into fate’s hands." Her voice trembles. "As the midnight moon rises on black wings, so we make our sacrifice and await the light at the end. In life and in death, we give glory, Mother Miranda."

Without saying a word, Mother Miranda grabs the back of the girl's hair and yanks her head backwards, bearing her neck. As the girl continues to repeat the prayer, you watch in horror as Mother Miranda raises her hand, and with her talon-sharp fingers, slices open the girl's neck.

The girl gurgles as she chokes on her own blood and you let out a scream of terror. The moment the scent of blood hits you, an instinct you can't control begins to take over. You try and fight it with all your might but in the end it wins and you leap off the table and onto the girl. Short but lethally sharp talons extend from your fingertips and you dig them into the girl and latch on to her neck wound.

At first the coppery taste of her blood makes you feel sick, but a second later that predatory instinct takes over and you finally start to feel relief from the insatiable thirst you were feeling.

You don't know when the girl stopped breathing or how long you were attached to her for, the only thing you know is that the blood flow begins to slow and then there's nothing left.

Backing away, you become aware of what you've done and you stare at her body in shock. Trembling, you look up at Mother Miranda and she looks at you with a cold indifference. She writes something down on the clipboard, places it on her desk and walks out of the room.

Making your way over to the clipboard, you see your name at the top and notes she's taken of your transformation written down. At the bottom it reads "an unfit vessel for Eva." and you collapse onto the floor in tears. Whether it was from relief or fear, you weren't sure.

Miranda keeps you for what feels like another week, continuing to experiment on you. What she does is borderline torture. Like Alcina, you also have rapid regeneration so you heal from everything she puts you through.

One morning after a grueling session of torture the night before, she walks into the lab and wakes you up.

"Get up. We're leaving."

"What, where are we going?"

"Move."

Miranda says nothing else and you make your way to her. She's clearly irritated at how slowly you are moving, but even your rapid regeneration had a tough time keeping up with what she's been putting you through for the last week. That and the thirst is back. You haven't had blood since the woman from the village and it's starting to affect your ability to regenerate.

Miranda grabs hold of you and in a split second you're whisked away once again.

-

Alcina is seated in her chair in her bedroom, staring into the fire as she nurses a glass of blood wine. She hasn't eaten much, or done much for that matter, since your disappearance. A sense of depression has fallen over House Dimitrescu and the matriarch can't seem to pull herself out of it.

She hears a voice call out for her.

"Alcina!" Miranda calls out.

Alcina rushes to her feet and down to the foyer.

"Mother Miranda, I wasn't expecting -" Alcina stops when she sees something - someone - in Miranda's grasp.

"Here, take her." Miranda says as the throws you to the ground. "Absolutely useless."

Alcina freezes in place as she watches Miranda throw what's in her grasp onto the floor. Beautiful white and brown wings are sprawled out across the floor.

It can't be. Alcina thinks to herself. She's terrified of getting her hopes up for even a second that it could be you, that you could be back home.

Lifting your head, you see Alcina and tears stream down your face.

"Alci." You whisper.

"Draga?" Alcina whispers back. Her eyes shift from you to Mother Miranda in complete confusion. "You - you had her? This whole time?"

"I did. I was hoping she would be the perfect vessel but unfortunately, she is just as unfit as you are."

The dig would normally crush Alcina, but her heart is filled with such relief it doesn't even phase her.

Alcina kneels down in front of you and cups your face in her hand as you try to sit up.

"Draga mea." She whispers. "I thought I lost you." Tears fill her eyes but she does her best to keep them at bay in front of Miranda.

Alcina sees the pain in your eyes - and the relief. Anger bubbles up in her chest and she looks up at Miranda.

"How could you?"

"How could I what? You know how important finding the perfect vessel is. Don't tell me you've lost sight of that, have you?" Miranda says.

Sensing the veiled threat, Alcina looks back down at you.

"No, Mother Miranda."

"Very well. I must be going."

Miranda disappears leaving the two of you in the foyer.

"Alci." You say as your voice cracks. Alcina leans down and carefully arranges you in her arms, mindful of your wings.

"Oh, draga mea." She says as she nuzzles you. "You're here. I can't believe you're here." Alcina says through tears.

You cling to Alcina like a lifeline, as if you'd disappear if you ever let go of her and you sob. Everything that happened the last few weeks comes crashing down on you and you can't help but let it all out right there in the foyer in her arms.

"It's alright, my love. It's alright. You're safe now, okay? No one will ever hurt you again." Alcina says as she continues to cry as well.

"Mother?" Bela asks as she comes into the foyer. "What's going - oh my god!" She shouts.

Bela rushes over and wraps her arms around you as Alcina holds you tight.

"You're back!" She says as tears fall. "Dani, Cassie, she's back!"

Daniela and Cassandra appear and Daniela screams before barreling towards you. Cassandra is right behind her and both girls also try and wrap their arms around you.

"Mama!" Daniela cries. "I missed you so much."

"Are you okay? Who did this to you?" Cassandra asks as she takes in your new wings.

"Miranda." Alcina growls and the girls look up in shock.

"Wait, Mother Miranda took her?" Bela asks.

"Yes. That's why she was gone without a trace. She took her and implanted the cadou into her." Alcina replies.

"The cadou?! But she could have died, or worse!" Daniela says.

"Trust me, draga, I know." Alcina says. "This was not something either of us wanted to happen."

"So Miranda kidnapped her and implanted the cadou into her without her consent?" Cassandra asks, enraged.

"Yes."

"How dare she -"

"That's enough, Cassandra." Alcina reprimands.

"But -"

"Cassandra, please. These last few weeks have been difficult for everyone, especially for her. Lets discuss this at a different time."

Cassandra nods in agreement and Alcina stands with you in her arms and carries you into your shared bedroom. The girls agreed to give you a little space while you recover and they fly off to take their anger out on unsuspecting maids.

Alcina lays you on the bed and immediately crawls up next to you and pulls you tightly into her. Her chest heaves as she sobs, her hands roaming over every inch of you, still in disbelief that you're real.

"My darling," Alcina cries. "I missed you so much. We tried so hard to find you. I'm so, so sorry. I didn't know, I never would have thought -" She breaks down into tears and you cup her face in your hands.

"It's alright, Alcina. It's not your fault. It's Miranda's fault. She sent you and the girls away so she could take me."

"Is, is that why she insisted I take the girls with me? I thought it was strange but who am I to question her?"

"It is. She said you wouldn't let me go without a fight. So she made sure all of you were gone."

"Oh, my love, I'm so sorry." She says. "What did she do to you?"

"She gave me the cadou. Alcina it was terrible. I've never been in so much pain in my life. I wanted to die when my wings came out."

Alcina coos and wipes the tears from your cheeks.

"And then I had this thirst that would not go away no matter what I drank and then Miranda brought a girl from the village into the lab." You say as you cry harder. "Alcina she slit her throat right there in front of me. And I couldn't control myself and I lunged at her. I drank her blood, I drank her dry. I killed her!" You sob.

"Oh draga, it's alright." Alcina says as she comforts you. "You didn't kill her, Miranda did. None of this was your fault."

"I was so scared, I was completely out of control. I'm so afraid of being like that again. Alcina I can't live like that."

"You won't have to. There are ways you can manage it without losing control. I'll teach you, the girls will teach you. We're here for you, draga."

You and Alcina cry into each others arms for what felt like hours until she finally ran you a bath. The wings on your back were still there so Alcina gently washed them as she cleaned the rest of you. Using her claws, she cut holes in one of your pajama shirts to accommodate your wings and helped you dress.

As the two of you spoke, you mentioned that you haven't had any blood since the girl from the village and Alcina shook her head at Miranda's lack of care. She had a maid bring up a fresh bottle of Sanguis Virginis. As soon as she popped the cork and the smell reached your nostrils you were practically drooling. Skipping the glass, Alcina handed you the bottle and you drank straight from it, downing the entire bottle in just a few minutes.

Alcina got herself ready for bed and pulled you into her arms. You felt satiated from the wine, but still cried yourself to sleep. Alcina held you in her protective arms, whispering praises and running her nails through your head until you fell asleep.

"I will never let anyone else ever hurt you, my love." She whispers to you. "Miranda will pay for what she's done."

[kingofbodyrolls]

Say I Do (m) | jjk

*this is a re-upload since I deleted my old account 🫣

You and Jungkook tease each other at your wedding reception.

→ Pairing: jungkook x female reader (no Y/N and unnamed) → AUs: non-idol!au, wedding!au → Genres: smut– like it’s just smut, nothing else 🤣 → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!) → Word count: 5.2k → Warnings/tag: unprotected sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, public sex, handjob, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, slightly rough sex, choking, biting, spitting, ass grabbing, impreg kink, degrading names (whore used once). → Author’s note: I made this for my lovely friend Lua (@letjungcoook7)!!!! SURPRISE!!!! I hope you like it! I was inspired to make this because of our chat, and I just want to say that you are so fucking lovely, sweet and kind 💖 I really hope this isn’t too much, but I just had too 🥹 I really wanted to make it dirty, but it ended up being more sweet instead, I’m sorry! I would talking to you and I just wanted to let you know that I adore and treasure you 😘 Honestly Lua, I just wrote this to tell you how beautiful you are– mind, body and soul. Thank you Lua, I love ya 💜 This is just something very short while I work on ‘My Heart’s Home’. But I hope you like it, and please let me know what you think: my inbox is always open, and I love to hear from you, even a reblog/comment will put a big smile on my face 💜 Also!!! This is written from Jungkook’s POV (well I tried, lol). And normally I don’t describe the reader/MC, but she does have a tiny bit description in this, but I still feel it’s vague enough. But if that isn’t your thing, it’s completely fine 🙂 This is not proofread (because I’m too lazy for that right now). → Read on AO3? [link] 

Rising gracefully to his feet, Taehyung's infectious enthusiasm fills the room as he declares, “I propose a toast!” His radiant smile sweeps over the myriad of guests you meticulously invited to your wedding—more than a hundred souls sharing in the joy of your love story. 

As he prepares to speak, Jungkook can't help but marvel at the grandeur of the occasion. Despite his personal inclination towards a more intimate celebration, he wouldn't dream of denying you this moment, surrounded by the warmth of friends and family who have come together to witness the union of two hearts.

Despite Taehyung's earnest attempt to capture Jungkook's attention with a throat-clearing preamble, Jungkook finds himself inexplicably entranced elsewhere. Even in the midst of one of his closest friends delivering a heartfelt wedding speech—something he should be wholeheartedly absorbing—but it’s hard. As hard as his dick that you’re palming over his dress pants.

The tantalizing dance of your hand sends ripples of pleasure through him, an intoxicating distraction that eclipses all other thoughts. It's an artful symphony of sensation, each movement crafting a masterpiece of desire within him. The struggle to concentrate on anything else becomes an exhilarating battle. Fuck. 

You, the mischievous enchantress, wield your allure like a potent spell. 

A tantalizing awareness of your own danger courses through your veins, and you wield it with an expert finesse. Every knowing glance, every sly smile, is a calculated move in the game you effortlessly play. You've mastered the art of ensnaring him, wrapping him around your finger with a magnetic force that compels him to dance to your whims. It's a dangerous dance, but he willingly succumbs to the intoxication of your charm, embracing the thrill as much as he cherishes the intoxicating love he feels for you.

What the fuck is Taehyung saying?

Taehyung’s words dissolve into a meaningless buzz, drowned out by the illicit symphony you're orchestrating beneath the table. The audacious zipper sliding down and the tantalizing exploration of your hand over the fabric of his boxer briefs command all of Jungkook's attention.

Profanity trembles on the edge of his tongue, but it's lost in the overwhelming sensation that eclipses any coherent thought. Your stealthy touch renders him blissfully oblivious to everything else unfolding around him.

Suppressing a low, guttural sound, he clenches his teeth, using every ounce of willpower to stifle the moan building in his throat. As desire courses through him like a wildfire, he willingly parts his legs, a silent invitation for you to explore more boldly, granting ample space for the electrifying touch of your hand over the hardened length of his cock.

He marvels at your audacity, finding it both exhilarating and daring that you'd embark on such a provocative escapade during your wedding reception. Yet, deep down, he acknowledges that it's a reflection of the wild spirit that has always defined your relationship. It's a shared affinity for dancing on the edge, reveling in the allure of danger, and delighting in the thrill of engaging in activities that should, by all accounts, remain private. It's a facet of your relationship that has always been magnetic, drawing you both into a world where the risk of being caught only adds to the intoxicating excitement.

In the blink of an eye, your hand deftly maneuvers beneath the fabric of his boxers, sending a shiver down his spine. A hiss escapes his lips as your long, slender fingers confidently envelop his cock. The warmth of your touch is both a balm and an inferno, and he instinctively tilts his head back in the chair, a silent plea for discretion. 

As he surrenders to the delicious sensation, he can't help but cast a furtive glance around, fervently hoping that the clandestine ballet unfolding beneath the table remains a tantalizing secret shared only between you.

Despite the uproarious laughter echoing through the room in response to Taehyung's speech, Jungkook remains oblivious to its contents, ensnared the choreography of your hand beneath the table. 

The mirthful ambiance only fuels his curiosity, surmising that Taehyung must have delivered a punchline or shared a humorous anecdote. Meanwhile, beneath the table's concealment, your hand skillfully traces a tantalizing path along his hardened cock, drawing a hushed hiss from Jungkook's lips. 

With a steely resolve, he masks any trace of emotion, locking his features in a stoic facade and maintaining an impressive silence. His determined effort is not just to conceal the electrifying sensations your actions are evoking, but also to safeguard the clandestine intimacy you both share from the prying eyes of the unsuspecting guests. 

Every fiber of his being is a coiled spring, resisting the urge to yield to the pleasure that threatens to unravel beneath the veneer of his restrained expression. 

As his gaze shifts towards you, he's met with an unexpected sight—there you sit, an image of demure elegance in your exquisite white gown. 

The fabric caresses your curves in all the right places, accentuating the allure of your figure. The daringly low neckline teases a glimpse of the captivating silhouette of your bosom, leaving him momentarily breathless. The off-the-shoulder design unveils a generous expanse of your soft, tender skin, a tantalizing sight that aligns perfectly with his preferences. 

Despite the provocative allure of your attire, your outward appearance betrays no hint of the illicit affair transpiring beneath the table. If he didn't intimately know the secret you were concealing—your hand discreetly exploring the realm beneath his pants—he'd be fooled by the serene facade you present, seemingly absorbed in the captivating rhythm of Taehyung's speech.

In a silent plea of gratitude, Jungkook revels in the fact that the attention of the guests is fixed on Taehyung's speech, sparing him the scrutiny of prying eyes. 

Little do they know, the real spectacle unfolds beneath the table, where your touch becomes an exquisite torment. 

Every movement of your hand is a tantalizing dance, a blend of ecstasy and torture that threatens to unravel him. With a teasing finesse, your soft fingers caress his frenulum, tracing a path towards the depths of pleasure. The deliberate slide over his slit elicits a shiver of pure ecstasy, leaving Jungkook teetering on the precipice of desire that you expertly navigate.

Your hand envelops him, a cocoon of warmth that intensifies with each skillful stroke. The pleasure coursing through him is undeniably exquisite, a testament to the mastery of your touch. Yet, a lingering awareness tugs at the edges of his consciousness—an impending climax that threatens to unravel the careful threads of restraint. The exquisite sensations you evoke compel him to desperately anchor his thoughts, to redirect the intoxicating focus from the captivating dance beneath the table to Taehyung's speech.

The challenge lies not just in resisting the magnetic pull of pleasure but in maintaining a semblance of composure, navigating the delicate balance between the ecstasy you're orchestrating beneath the table and the public façade demanded by the occasion.

“We’ve been friends for so long, how many years is it now, Gguk?” As Taehyung poses the question, a hushed anticipation envelops the room, and all eyes converge on Jungkook. 

Fuck. 

All eyes are on him and he can’t think— he’s mind is clouded with thoughts of you. 

Taehyung– Fuck. How long have they been friends? 

In a sudden stumble of recollection, he breathes out, “17 years,” the weight of the shared history resonating in the room. Yet, the gravity of the moment is unexpectedly intensified as you administer an assertive squeeze around cock. Fuck.

With a chuckle that slices through the tension, Taehyung seamlessly continues his discourse, effortlessly reclaiming the attention of the room and redirecting every wandering gaze back to him. A collective exhale echoes in Jungkook's mind, a silent gratitude for the timely diversion that spares the clandestine spectacle beneath the table from becoming the unwitting center of attention. 

Relentless, you maintain the rhythm on his dick, displaying an unwavering determination that hints at an intention to push him to the brink, right under the unsuspecting gaze of the gathered guests. 

As the divine caress of your hand propels him perilously close to the edge, a surge of urgency overtakes him. Desperate, he turns his face towards you, eyes silently pleading for respite, but your gaze remains steadfastly elsewhere. 

Frustration wells within him, and he attempts to use his hands to guide yours away, only to find your grip tightening in response. The conflicting forces of pleasure and restraint collide within him, his muscles tensing as a hitch in his breath betrays the precarious precipice upon which he teeters.

Leaning in, you bring with you a halo of your natural sweet scent, an intoxicating allure that wraps around him, overwhelming his senses and leaving him slightly dizzy. 

Your lips, soft and plush, delicately find his cheek in what appears to be a tender gesture to the outside world. To the unsuspecting onlookers, it's a simple, sweet kiss on the cheek. 

Little do they know, in that same moment, your daring move involves not just the gentle press of your lips but the subtle exploration of your other hand slipping under his boxers to fondle his balls.

Fucking hell he’s gonna come.

Ecstasy courses through him like a wildfire, an imminent eruption fueled by the intoxicating cocktail of your skillful touch on his balls, warm breath teasing his ear, and the relentless grip on his pulsating desire. The threshold between pleasure and release narrows to a perilous edge, and he finds himself teetering on the brink, held captive by the maddening symphony of sensations you've orchestrated. 

Despite his valiant efforts to remain attentive to his friend's speech, the sheer mastery of your pleasure-inducing touch proves insurmountable. Every deliberate stroke, every strategic squeeze of his balls, propels him further into the abyss of ecstasy. In a moment of surrender, he can no longer contain the torrent of desire, and ropes of his essence surge forth from his throbbing dick. His lips bear the weight of a stifled moan, as you keep stroking him through his orgasm.

Beside him, your chuckle is a symphony of sweetness interwoven with a hint of mischief, a melodic backdrop to the ongoing crescendo of pleasure you expertly administer through his orgasm. 

As he traverses the realm of oversensitivity, a low, guttural grunt escapes him, drawing the curious gaze of Taehyung, engrossed in his ongoing speech. Though momentarily caught in a gaze of questioning inquiry, Taehyung forges ahead, resuming his speech with a peculiar stare, unwittingly oblivious to the spectacle unfolding beside him.

Thank fuck both of your parents aren’t seated right next to you. That would have been utterly mortifying and embarrassing.

With a deliberate finesse, you retract your hand from his crotch, guiding it gracefully over the table, where you nonchalantly employ a napkin to erase any lingering evidence. Seated there, you adopt an innocent facade, a picture of angelic composure that conceals the fact that, mere seconds ago, your hand delved into the forbidden realm beneath his pants. 

With an audible exhale, he reaches for a napkin, hastily attending to the aftermath on his pants. The damage is fortunately minimal, thanks to your deft intervention that efficiently captured most of his release. Smart girl.

But a mischievous spark ignites in his eyes, a silent vow echoing beneath the surface - oh, he's going to get back at you for that, you little minx. 

As the notes of the classic wedding waltz envelop the room, Jungkook marvels at the surreal reality—he gets to call you his wife now. The ethereal glow surrounding you transcends the physical, a radiant aura that has always defined you. Despite your humble protestations about your own beauty, he's captivated by the undeniable truth: you've always been, and continue to be, an enchanting vision. Countless times you've confessed to feeling otherwise, but in his eyes, you're a masterpiece. In this moment, as you dance together, you're not just a part of his world; you are his entire universe.

Gazing into the pools of your sweet, doe-like eyes, their exquisite almond shape captivates him, holding his attention in an unbreakable trance. He contemplates the nuances of your beauty, from the enchanting curvature of your slightly upturned nose to the endearing moments when he can't resist playfully poking it during your teasing exchanges. Every inch of you, in his eyes, is a masterpiece, and he pledges to vocalize his admiration every day, a ritual aimed at etching your beauty into your own consciousness. 

He dreams that with each affirming word, he'll weave a tapestry of self-love around you, until the day you see yourself as he does—undeniably, breathtakingly beautiful.

As you dance, your eyes ablaze with an unmistakable love, he luxuriates in the intensity of your gaze. A daring current of desire propels his hand, gliding with deliberate intent down your body until it boldly claims your ass. 

Uninhibited, he seizes it with audacious confidence, the bold move oblivious to the watchful eyes surrounding you. A soft, mischievous squeeze elicits a sweet chuckle from you, a harmonious note in the symphony of shared amusement that reverberates through the party, as the crowd collectively succumbs to the captivating allure of your uninhibited dance.

As the soft strains of the music envelop you both in a waltz, your heads draw nearer, the enchanting melody echoing the tender dance of your hearts. With the song nearing its end, he seizes the moment, leaning in intimately close to your ear. The hushed promise that escapes his lips carries a tantalizing undercurrent, his warm breath grazing your skin as he vows, “I'm going to get you back for earlier, babe.”

He senses the subtle shiver coursing through you as his touch lingers, a silent testament to the shared electricity between you. As the final notes of the song fade into the applause and cheers of the crowd, seizing the perfect moment, he leans in, embracing you in a sweet and passionate kiss. 

As the rhythm of a more upbeat song invigorates the dance floor, he seizes the opportunity to whisk you away from the lively crowd. Amidst the pulsating beats and the vivacious laughter of the guests, he guides you outside the building, their merriment gradually fading into the background.

In the crisp night air, he asserts a sudden dominance, pressing you against the sturdy wall. His gaze, infused with an unmistakable hunger and need, locks onto your beautiful eyes, creating a magnetic tension that reverberates between you. 

“You are a little minx, you know that?” His words, not laced with anger but rather a dangerous undercurrent of arousal, hang in the charged air. Your chuckle, a sweet symphony that further stirs the tempest within him, prompts a hiss as he succumbs to the magnetic pull, diving fervently into the captivating abyss of your mouth.

The kiss intensifies, a collision of passion that is both hard and rough, fueled by an undeniable need. In the urgency of the moment, he can't afford to wait, the impatience palpable in every fervent press of lips. 

You envelop him in the embrace of your arms, fingers intertwining at the nape of his neck, while your gaze rises to meet his. In the depths of his eyes, once warm brown orbs now transformed into pools of near-black intensity, a reflection of the potent arousal coursing through his veins. 

Your hand embarks on a daring journey, descending to the front of his pants once more, and the response is instantaneous – hardness reignites, a testament to the insatiable flame you kindle within him. Desire for you pulses like a constant current, an almost permanent state of arousal that defies logical explanation. Whatever enchantment you cast upon him, it's an irresistible force that weaves a tantalizing spell, leaving him perpetually captivated by the mystique of your touch.

Breaking away from the embrace of your soft lips, he wears a smirk laden with both warning and allure. “You're playing with fire, babe,” he remarks, the subtle edge in his voice echoing the intoxicating dance of danger and desire that swirls between you.

In a hushed whisper that flutters against your ear, he breathes, “You've been a naughty girl.” 

The words, laden with an undercurrent of sultry authority, send a shiver down your spine, awakening a cascade of tingles that traverse the landscape of your entire body. 

Descending to the delicate expanse of your neck, he peppers it with soft, almost teasing kisses, each touch a prelude to the symphony of sensations. Then, in an abrupt shift from gentle caresses, he bites down, coaxing from you a loud moan that resonates through the air—an intoxicating sound that echoes in the depths of his desire, a melody he'll never tire of hearing. 

Continuing his explorative journey, he ventures further south, his lips descending to the curve of your breasts. With a deliberate tenderness, he places a kiss atop the soft expanse of your tender tits.

Gracefully sinking to his knees, he gazes up at you with a mischievous smirk, the air thick with a heady mixture of desire and anticipation. His tongue darts out, grazing his lips in a provocative dance of anticipation, signaling the imminent exploration of pleasures yet to unfold. 

With an assertive grip, he seizes the front of your dress, drawing it away in a swift, purposeful motion. Despite the abundance of fabric, he deftly bunches it up with ease. “Hold your dress, please,” he directs, handing you the end of the gathered fabric. 

“Hmm. Nice lace stockings, and that girdle—what are you doing to me?” he murmurs, his voice a tantalizing blend of desire and fascination. His gaze lingers appreciatively on your beautiful thighs encased in nude stockings adorned with lace at the top, fastened to a concealed girdle on your waist.

His eyes widen with a mix of surprise and arousal as they land on your wet and glistening pussy, the evidence of desire trickling down your thigh. “Oh my god. You're not wearing panties?” he breathes out, his voice carrying the weight of both revelation and anticipation. A subtle lick of his lips betrays the intensity of his reaction.

A playful chuckle escapes your lips as you hover above him, and without a moment's hesitation, he immerses himself in the intoxicating warmth of your desire. His lips eagerly find their destination, tracing a decadent path from the delicate folds to the pulsating essence of your clit. 

The sensation ripples through your body, igniting a shiver that becomes an involuntary response to the electrifying dance between tongues, pleasure, and the shared yearning that binds you together.

He embarks on a tantalizing journey of tongue and suction, starting with teasing caresses that send tremors of anticipation through your body. His hands, strong and purposeful, find purchase on your thighs, holding you in a firm grip as he orchestrates a symphony of pleasure with his skillful tongue, creating an intoxicating dance that blurs the lines between sensation and desire.

A throaty moan escapes your lips as his nose delicately brushes against your pulsating cl*t, his tongue delving as deep as its voracious hunger allows. The exquisite sensation of his exploration elicits an involuntary clenching around him, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you.

Your thighs, unable to withstand the intensity, succumb to a tremor, trembling beneath the intoxicating caress of pleasure that consumes you.

His dexterous fingers ascend to your throbbing clit, and with a skillful touch, he sets in motion a rapid dance of pleasure, causing your entire body to quiver with newfound intensity. The quickened rhythm of your breath becomes a symphony of desire, a telltale sign for him that you're teetering on the precipice of ecstasy.

Eager to reciprocate the pleasure you bestowed upon him within the confines of the reception, he fervently laps at your tender folds. Simultaneously, his fingers engage in a deft dance around your throbbing clit, orchestrating a symphony of sensations that echoes the pulsating rhythm of desire between you.

With the harmonious fusion of his skilled tongue and nimble fingers, he orchestrates the unraveling of your senses. As ecstasy courses through you, your body convulses in euphoria, your walls clenching around his tongue, and the pulsating rhythm of your clit intensifying under the spell of his fingers. 

Waves of pleasure surge through you, causing your body to quake, and in the throes of ecstasy, you release a high-pitched, strained moan that bears his name—an intimate symphony of pleasure that lingers in the air.

Breathless and overwhelmed, you gasp out his name, a plea woven into the words, “Fuck, Jungkook. I can't stand up anymore.” As he gracefully withdraws from your core, his gaze rises to meet yours, locking in a shared moment of intensity.

He chuckles, the rich timbre of his laughter lingering in the charged air. “I know, babe. Do you want me to fuck you against the wall?”

You draw in a sharp breath, and he keenly observes the subtle clench of your hand, the fabric of the dress tightly gathered within your grasp. 

“Fuck yeah,” An unbridled affirmation escapes your lips, a primal declaration of desire. As he rises to his feet, a surge of urgency propels him to capture your mouth in a hungry kiss. The taste of your own release lingers on his lips, creating an intimate communion of shared pleasure that binds you together in the aftermath of passion.

As he engulfs you in a fervent kiss, the symphony of desire playing out between you, his hands deftly navigate the zipper of his dress pants. With a purposeful movement, he unveils his throbbing cock, stroking it in rhythmic cadence. 

His hands, driven by a primal urgency, seek out the contours of your ass with a possessive intent. “Jump up, babe,” he commands, the resonance of his voice weaving a spell of anticipation. As you obediently jump, he effortlessly lifts you, cocooning you against the wall. 

In a brief struggle against the bulk of your dress, both of you grapple with the fabric, pushing it away from the front of your entwined bodies. A shared chuckle hangs in the air, a lighthearted interlude in the midst of fervor. But as the fabric yields to your efforts, Jungkook seizes the opportunity, moving in with an insatiable hunger to bite at your neck once more. 

With a sultry whisper, he breathes, “I'm gonna fuck a baby into you, would you like that, hmm?” 

The words, pregnant with promise, glide against your ear, and the responsive clench of your legs around his waist speaks volumes. A knowing chuckle escapes him as you endeavor to pull him even closer, the shared desire resonating between you in the charged space.

“Please,” your plea, a desperate yet fervent entreaty, escapes your lips, a poignant melody of desire that resonates in the charged air. The subtle smirk that graces his lips is both a testament to your undeniable need for him and an acknowledgment of the power he holds over your cravings.

With a deliberate touch, he locates his throbbing cock with one hand and skillfully aligns it with your dripping entrance. The tantalizing dance begins as he teases your slick folds with the head of his pulsating dick, creating an electrifying friction that amplifies the anticipation between you two. 

“Gguk, please,” you plead with a mixture of desire and frustration, your voice echoing the urgent need for him to bridge the gap between anticipation and fulfillment. However, he remains steadfast, skillfully teasing your slick folds without granting the entry your body craves. 

With a desperate plea escaping your lips once more, he finally relents. The moment stretches with anticipation before he forcefully thrusts his thick cock into your eager pussy. The collision is met with an audible impact as your back forcefully meets the wall.

He forgoes the customary pause for adjustment, intuitively aware that you relish the exquisite stretch when he enters you so abruptly. Without hesitation, he plunges deep into your core, reaching the furthest recesses, his thick length grazing against your cervix. 

“You’re so big, the stretch feels so good!” 

You gasp breathlessly against his body, overwhelmed by the sheer size of him. The intoxicating stretch sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, a visceral reminder of the intensity between you two. Determined to fully immerse yourself in the sensation, you pant against him, actively striving to ride the wave of pleasure, desperate to fuck yourself on him, the relentless pursuit of ecstasy evident in every ardent movement.

He establishes a relentless rhythm, driving into you with a force that resonates against the unyielding wall of the building. The symphony of your combined panting echoes in the air, a melodic accompaniment to the unbridled passion unfolding. Jungkook, captivated by the primal symphony, savors every delightful noise escaping your lips—a harmonious blend of desire and surrender, heightening the intensity of the fervent connection shared between you.

As he thrusts into you, each powerful motion striking your cervix, he elevates the intensity by trailing one hand up to your neck. With a gentle yet possessive touch, he wraps his fingers around your throat.

He knows you like it dirty and rough, and fuck he does too. 

His taunting words, laced with a playful yet provocative tone, cut through the charged air. “Did you enjoy the little game with your fingers down my pants while Tae was making his speech?” The rhetorical question hangs between you, a teasing challenge that elicits a subtle clenching reaction around him. 

In a sultry revelation, he whispers, “'Next to your bridesmaid and your parents. You naughty girl.” The hand steadying against the wall takes a firm hold of your ass, squeezing the soft flesh with deliberate intent. A resonant moan of pleasure escapes your lips, harmonizing with the rhythmic cadence of his thrusts as he skillfully targets your sweet spot. 

“So naughty,” he breathes, punctuating each fervent thrust with a rhythmic intensity that sends shivers down your spine. “You enjoy getting off in front of your friends, huh?” His words, infused with a seductive blend of desire and provocation, become a tantalizing soundtrack to the relentless grind of his dick into you.

“And getting me off too? Whore,” he seethes into your ear, the heated accusation leaving a scorching trail of desire in its wake. Your response, a shiver against his body, fuels the intensity of the moment. 

As he continues to fuck you with an unrestrained force, your breasts bounce in a mesmerizing rhythm that captivates him. So fucking perfect.

“Stick your tongue out,” he commands, his eyes intently fixed on you as you obediently roll out your tongue, anticipating the act you relish. The charged moment lingers, pregnant with expectation. With a deliberate move, he spits on your waiting tongue, and you, the embodiment of submission, dutifully swallow it.

Damn it, he knows he won't last much longer if he continues to be entranced by the rhythmic bounce of your enticing breasts—they possess an almost hypnotic allure over him. And that tongue of yours, oh, it's pure seduction. 

“And you can't even wait until we reach our hotel suite to be fucked. So fucking needy, and I love it,” he declares, a blend of admiration and desire lacing his words. The deliberate clench of his fingers around your throat follows, a subtle yet potent assertion of control. His gaze remains fixed on your eyes, watching with a predatory intensity as they dilate even more.

As he tightens his grip, the sensation of his fingers constricting around your throat elicits a primal response—your walls clenching around his cock. The synchronized symphony of pleasure and control intertwines, and a guttural groan escapes him, an audible testament to the ecstasy coursing through his veins. 

Driven by an insatiable desire, he redoubles his efforts to fuck you even deeper.

“My filthy wife,” he pants into your ear, the possessive term dripping with desire, a declaration that ignites a primal response within you. The sultry proclamation elicits a moan of his name from your lips, a vocal affirmation of the all-encompassing pleasure coursing through your body. His acute awareness of your nearing climax manifests in the rhythmic clenching around his dick, a tangible sign of the intimate dance between you two.

“Fuck, Gguk. I'm so close again. Fuck!” you pant fervently against the curve of his neck, the words laced with desperation and desire. He senses the mounting intensity in your voice, a symphony of passion reaching its crescendo. 

Yet, he's attuned to the nuances, recognizing the subtle signs that your body, though on the brink of ecstasy, bears the weight of fatigue, having navigated the day in those tantalizing heels. 

“You crave an audience, don't you? Want people to watch you, to hear you,” he moans into your ear, the words a sultry declaration that fans the flames of desire between you two. The acknowledgment of your shared exhibitionist desires ignites a fresh surge of pleasure, prompting an instinctive clench around him.

“Then scream my name, let everyone in the damn party know how damn good I'm fucking you,” he commands, the intensity of his voice sending shivers down your spine. As your walls clench with even greater fervor, pulsating around his dick, a wave of your liquid envelops him, transforming the intimate connection into a slippery dance of shared pleasure.

You unleash his name with a primal scream, the sheer force of your ecstasy reverberating through the open air outside. Your head drops against the curve of his neck, seeking refuge in the haven of his embrace as the waves of pleasure cascade over you.

He relentlessly thrusts his dick into you, the urgency palpable as he seeks his own release. “I'm gonna give you a baby, just like we've always dreamed of.”

“Ahhh, fuck, yes!” The exclamation bursts from your lips, a little too loud, as an uncontrollable surge of pleasure courses through you. Your teeth instinctively seek refuge on his shoulder, sinking into the firm flesh in an unbridled act of both ecstasy and restraint.

“Fuck, babe, I'm gonna come,” he confesses with a guttural moan, each subsequent thrust punctuated with the desperation of impending release. His rhythm stumbles, an involuntary response to the intensity building within him as he hurtles towards the precipice of his orgasm. And then it hits him.

The rhythmic bounce of your tits in his face, the soft and sweet scent that envelops him, and the melodic cadence of your voice—all converge to cast a spell on his senses. In the midst of your lovely moans, he succumbs to the intoxicating blend of sensations, unleashing a torrent of white-hot semen deep inside your spent pussy. 

Panting and gasping, you both struggle for precious breaths, bodies slick with the sheen of sweat acquired in the throes of passion. Amidst the shared exhaustion, a mutual chuckle reverberates between you, an intimate exchange that encapsulates the postcoital atmosphere.

With your head nestled against his, you gaze into the depth of his eyes and confess, “I love you, Gukkie.” The words, tender and raw, bridge the physical intimacy you've just shared with the emotional vulnerability of a heartfelt declaration.

“I love you too. Every damn inch of you, you're so beautiful,” he pants, a declaration infused with both desire and admiration. As he smiles at you, the post-passion glow accentuates the sincerity in his eyes, turning the exchange into a powerful affirmation.

He'll never tire of professing his boundless love and adoration for you, vowing to weave those sentiments into the fabric of each passing day. The promise to remind you, with unwavering devotion, echoes in his commitment to articulate his love every damn day.

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© @/kingofbodyrolls 2024 // Please don’t copy or repost! You are more than welcome to reblog it, leave a comment or ask me anything about the story 🥰

[eluxcastar]

Hello Riri! :]

I'm in my platonic harbingers with a child reader era, and you're one of the few people I follow who writes platonic stuff on an occasion. So here's my request!

Here's the small storyline I have. Reader is the child of a god (you're free to decide what they are the god of, if you want) who is extremely well known around Tevyat, and puts on a very intimidating and serious presence. Yet one unfortunate day, the readers parent dies, so now they have to take on their legacy at a too young of age. Making them grow up out of their childhood much faster and pressuring them into becoming exactly like their parent. Cold, intimidating, and serious.

And out of all the mortals the reader has met, the harbingers are who they find comfort in. They could be lecturing some other mortal one minute, and the next minute, they see one of the harbingers. They're grabbing them by the hands, bouncing on their tip toes with a bright smile.

(Hope you're having a good day! And please don't overwork yourself<3)

Fatui harbingers with a child god

── ୨୧：fatui harbingers & reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: child reader taking over as archon and basically immediately proving why child rulers are a bad idea but it's ok because it's cute and endearing

୨୧﹑genre :: fluff

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, god reader, signora might be ooc tbh I struggled to think for her, not proofread

୨୧﹑words :: 3k

this has been in my inbox for some time, even though I've really wanted to do it for ages. I'm sorry honey it took me a while to get to it. the description of their parent at least to me was giving mr zhongli when he was morax and I immediately thought of the ramifications of him faking his death in the rite of descension which makes me wanna write something else BUT THAT'S FOR LATER

I meant to post this four and a half hours ago but suddenly it was like twice the length I thought it would be and uh yeah that was not the plan but enjoy the food served hot and fresh

There has hardly been a moment of grief since you were orphaned, and the people are turning to you for their next overseer. You, small, fragile, and ill-prepared, are the one they wish to see take up the pillar left in your father's wake. You weren't ready, and maybe you never would've been, embraced by the caring side of your well and truly mellowed-out father and cherished by the people as the child of the nation.

Your transition from people's treasure to people's guide was jarring, and you're still not used to it. You move with what pleases and hide what brings deep frowns and disappointed eyes. The people no longer want a child but a god. They want their pride, once a god who had walked by their side for millennia, now the passing generation of a god as the mantle shifts to his blood.

It's hard not to notice what they make you, now the spitting image of your father, though you can only parrot his earned wisdom and show a brave face to keep the nation from despair.

You have but a single ally—the Tsaritsa—someone whose messengers approached you to ask for your father's gnosis and who gladly agreed to offer you an invitation to Snezhnaya at your request to speak to her personally, quite honestly not knowing how to say that you frankly didn't know what to do with the gnosis. Though you could keep it, you're unsure how to harness its power, wield it, or even control it. Your father was strong, you're not.

She is an intimidating presence but gentle. She knew of your father for as long as she had been an archon—though they weren't on good terms toward the end—perhaps you could understand her more than he would. He was the original archon in his seat, but you are an inheritor like her. In her lands, you are the careful balance of both a god and a child, spoken to with the grace of a higher power but the softness that is befitting to a young child.

It is as you are.

Tartaglia is the first to seek a test of your strength, though you wish not to hurt him and convince him to wait. So long as the answer is someday, he allows you to let him down easily and settles at indulging your requests to join the snowball fight you noticed him having. You want to join in, fidgeting and with your gaze flickering between the smiling children and your feet. You push away your every want to join them and play as well, but remind yourself of the people who would scorn you. It's unfitting for a god to behave like an immature child, you remind yourself, but every hope of remaining steadfast to that is gone as Tartaglia notices you watching.

His offer is merely that—an offer. He speaks with a snowball forming in his hands as he approaches, his thick coat engulfing his form and the red scarf bundled around his neck to keep him warm. You have to look up to meet his eyes, playful and perhaps a little mischievous. Tartaglia holds the snowball out to you as if it were his peace offering.

"You look like you want to join the fun. Care to throw a snowball or two with us?"

"May I?"

And with that, you take his offering.

Pantalone's musings and the intentions of his gifts are not beyond you. He means to win you over and perhaps spoil you a little. It is coddling, and you notice it. He wants what he wants, and he will get it out of you, but it is also not beyond him to recognise that you are...naïve, endearingly. Pantalone can lavish you in fine silks all he wants, but you have received many offerings, so they don't particularly sway you as he had hoped, and he moves on. Your true weakness lies in children's toys, the many things you have been denied since you have been forced to steel yourself. The smile that twitches at the corners of your lips as he presents you with the first is enough to confirm it.

Toys are made for children; though you try to deny it, you are still a child at heart. Gifting a child a toy they will try to pretend they don't cherish but will protect with their life is perhaps the quickest way to earn their favour. He watches as you fiddle with the arms of the plush cat when you think nobody is looking, asking it questions and then responding to yourself in an all-too-dedicated voice you put on for this cat. 

"Oh, Mr Cat, would you like some borscht too? It's very good."

"Yes, please, I would love to try some!"

Pantalone admittedly can't deny that you come with your own charms.

Signora spoils you what many of your aids have tried to before you, the chance to fix your hair, marvel at a pretty lady and wish you were half as sophisticated as her. She is your role model, second only to the Tsaritsa. She is beautiful and elegant and willing to teach you her ways as long as you continue to show up as cute as you are. Fix your posture a bit, head up, and walk everywhere with purpose, even if there isn't one. She has mastered the art, and you want it. Pantalone has his own appeal, a sophisticated man who learned through blood, sweat and tears, but there is something so distinct about Signora that makes you run to her at your first problem of presentation.

Like your mother, she will take you by the hand, lead you to a mirror, straighten your back, tilt your head up by the chin, and tell you to look at yourself now. Each time, you stare dumbly in awe of her reflection standing behind you, observing you like something precious, and it fills you with the confidence you need to heed her advice. It doesn't occur to you that Signora looks at you that way only because she thinks you're cute in your efforts, but too much like a child who got into their mother's perfume to be taken seriously.

"How others see you is important. Do you think they want to see their god with their back slouched and head hung? Hold your gaze above the people."

"It's-- well, different. I think I just look tense."

Sandrone has also come to realise that your weakness lies in toys, though she will not admit to aiding and abetting Pantalone's endeavours to find you a plushie. Instead, she shows you Katheryne. You have seen Katheryne before; you are sure of that, and that is only confirmed as Sandrone informs you that she exists in every branch of the Adventurers' Guild, including the one in your homeland. Katheryne is your access to knowledge, and the Northland Bank is your connection to Snezhnaya. Sandrone offers you comfort, the path that will lead you back to where help is and where you can go when you become overwhelmed by responsibility.

She likes your company, a reluctant admission that does not come cheap as she bargains your silence with the knowledge that she's aware of your liking for your cat toy. The embarrassment that overwhelms you is palpable until she offers you her workshop to play when your quarters are so overcrowded by your aids. You couldn't come to Snezhnaya alone for your safety, and it leaves you stranded without a moment of peace at times.

"Really?...and I can just, stay here? For as long as I want?"

"Isn't that what was offered to you?"

"Well...yes, thank you."

Scaramouche, whom you meet adjacent to Sandrone, is ill-tempered in the presence of others but a tad nicer when it comes to you. He does not drop his rough-around-the-edges personality to melt his heart out of his chest for you, but you manage to strike the perfect cord in his to gain liberties others cannot, having him share sweets with you. You learned at one point he really doesn't like them, leading you to wonder why they suddenly appeared ready and available for you to stuff your pockets full and snack on them when nobody's looking. You earn his favour through endearment and talk to him like he's normal because he is.

He is the child of a god, though in a different capacity to you. He was not loved quite so dearly by his mother and cannot share with you the pain of losing someone who treasured you. He was merely abandoned. There is the vague part of you that shuns the idea his softness is pity, sympathy even, as you're stuck stumbling through the world alone. It is all too familiar to him, and if candy will make you smile at him so cheerfully and hug him so tightly, then candy is a simple trade-off.

"Are you sure you don't want any? These are yours."

"Sickly sweet things make me feel like my teeth are fusing together. You can have them."

Pulcinella reminds you of home, the trinkets gathered on a whim that he keeps, the years showing through the rooms dedicated to him as you notice things your father told you of in stories. These are stories that Pulcinella will start off on without prompting, indulging your curiosity before you even lowered your guard enough to show it and casually enough that you slowly ask more. Every item holds a story: what it is, how he obtained it, why he kept it, who it was for. You see many such things around what used to be your house, but you don't know all of the stories, treasuring the ones you remember.

Pulcinella doesn't recall every story either, as some of your pointing and questioning is met with remarks of how long it has been. It is the only thing you feel you share with him, a living space filled to the brim with memories. Many of your trinkets don't belong to you, but his do, and it's nice to hear someone tell you stories again as he lets you pick from the collection of sweets in your pockets to eat when it suits your fancy.

"What about this? It reminds me of a lumenstone, the ones from the chasm."

"It is, and it came from Liyue when I asked that one of my subordinates bring it back for me. You must have a fine eye for these things."

"Not really, only lumenstone and noctilucous jade glow like this."

Arlecchino's offering to you is company, and plenty of it. Children who are so far removed from the stretch of news beyond the issues of the Steambird they manage to get their hands on that they wouldn't know your face from a haggler on the street. Father brought a guest to play with, and that's what matters as they induct you into their games, teach you the rules, and regard you exactly as they regard every other child their age. You are given the choice to simply become nobody, and you love it. Though you were once only a child, you were still the child of a god, and everyone knew it. Now, you elicit excitement only because someone new enters their lives, someone to learn about and befriend, merely a guest their father brought them.

Despite her sharp exterior, she is sweeter to you than you expected. You thought Arlecchino might be scarier, meaner, harsher, but she softens when she speaks to you. It is not with the cutthroat demeanour she holds speaking to the Harbingers and lacks a degree of the stern attitude she fronts to the children. You are not the average child, and it's necessary to treat you with some degree of respect, but you notice she's gentler with you than others, and it almost makes you feel special.

Columbina has sung you to sleep many times during your stay; her voice is sweet and more than enough to calm you. You let her hold your cat plush and dance with you in the hallways with the excuse you need knowledge of these things should you aspire toward being an archon, even if spinning around until you fall on the floor from dizziness and burst out laughing is a tad non-traditional. Columbina can see things others can't notice more than the human eye is capable of, and you'd rather not know what that's like. Something in the way she speaks tells you that it's hardly adjacent to anything human, closer to you, but still quite far off. It's interesting to hear the strange things humans have no business knowing.

Your hand is grasped in Columbina's, her fingers holding you tenderly. Her eyes are partly obscured beneath the lattice of a mask she wears. You're not sure if you could really call it a mask. She steps back, tugging you with her, and spins you in time with the steps she takes, each accompanied by a shift that forces you to keep up with where she moves, her other hand on your shoulder. It is the closest you will get to proper dancing, though merely a fool's waltz. You can't dance; being spun down a hallway while you struggle to match her movements feels much like you imagine a waltz would.

"It's not really proper dancing if we have no pattern to it."

"There is no such thing as proper dancing. If you'd prefer it, I could sing."

Dottore is someone you did not expect to be so open to the idea of you, and your assumptions were proven correct by his apprehension to engage with you. He is curt with you at best and avoidant at worst. You are a child filled with the yearning to touch everything that doesn't belong to you, desperate to hear too much about the things that don't concern you. You are young, needy, and with no concept of what is beyond you. Dottore's unique abundance of knowledge is appealing to you, however. He knows things your father did, many of which he didn't tell you, but Dottore will, so long as it gets you to sit still and stop interrupting him. You may be convinced you have pocketed your unnecessary emotions away, but he has seen you, and that is an insulting lie.

Your wants are written on your face plain as day, so long as people pay enough attention to you to care what you feel. He does not especially care, not for the child of a god, but it helps to know what you want to stick your nose in most. It helps to know how you benefit from him, and on luckier days, you might even catch him in a better mood when he is willing to indulge your interest in his knowledge. Your capacity to understand, let alone remember, hardly worries him.

"So you have clones of yourself? And they just...work for you?"

"Not exact clones—segments. They have wills of their own and use them as they see fit."

Capitano is strong, a man of few words, and he does not abhor your presence quite so strongly, nor does he indulge your more childish desires. What you get from Capitano is respect, the highest honour you can get from his book in your eyes, and it comes from your perseverance. You're running around working so hard when you're so young, and you deserve a break sometimes. You deserve a quiet place to curl up in the corner with that cat he's caught you hiding under where no one can bother you, and maybe with a few sweets you always seem to have these days. That corner still does not exist, though he will find you one if you want it. 

You show no signs of slowing down, are energetic and eager and are far too committed to the act of being something you're not to listen to him when he tells you to rest. Gods must all be fickle. The most he can do for you is make sure you're safe and happy as you will be in your position, maybe wipe your hands of powdered sugar when you find pastries at the market you want and recklessly eat them without thinking of how you'll clean up short of wiping the remnants on your clothes, but you'll never do that as you are.

Pierro once made you nervous. He is a stern, serious man who never smiles. Pierro is steadfast in loyalty and never wavers, which is precisely what you have begun to aspire to be now that that is what has been asked of you. You could never hope to replicate the kind of dedication he has, and perhaps that is part of what sways you. Though you have become so comfortable behaving childishly around some people, you fear you may never be around him, whether because you fear his disapproval or yearn for his approval. Despite that, he is arguably who you trail around behind most, quiet, observing, trying to figure out how to copy and apply what he has to yourself.

It settles the quick realisation he reminds you most of what the people saw in your father. Someone like him is someone people envision fostering a nation to prosperity, and you fight your own subconscious to keep all of your slipping habits, making sure he never sees you sneaking candy, hiding your cat plush from him, refusing Tartaglia's every offer to play games around him. You're not sure why you think that will make him like you more, having long ago gained his favour, unable to notice the faint smiles and the conscious effort to make you believe he doesn't notice you out the window barreling snowballs at Tartaglia.

You are still a child at heart; he is just about the last person you can hope to hide that from.

[floralseokjin]

💌

Hello everyone! It’s been a while! I didn’t mean to stay away for so long, and for that I apologise. Looking through my inbox, I’m touched that I’ve been missed. I’ve missed you all too! Thank you for checking in, and I plan on replying to all my messages asap. 

Now, considering it’s been over half a year, maybe you can already guess, but sadly I have stopped writing fanfic. I think deep down I knew 9 months to fall in love would be my last - I really put my all into that story - but I just didn’t want to admit it to myself. I’ve wanted to log in and interact with you all numerous times, but I thought a break would be best for me until I officially decided (and accepted) what to do. 

This isn’t goodbye though! 

While away, I have been (slowly) writing an original novel. I have 25k written right now and in the new year I really hope to share more details with you! Your support and excitement as I attempt to publish my own book would truly mean the world to me 🤧 

I’ve been on this site for seven years and I never imagined to gain the amount of readers I have. The love I’ve received over the years will always mean so much to me. I cherish every moment I spent writing for bts. Without them, none of it would have been possible. Because of them I discovered my joy for writing. I will always cherish this space. All the friends I made, the interactions I had with you all, whether it was anonymous or not. All the stories I posted. It all made me very happy 🥺

Of course, I do plan on sticking around, awaiting and celebrating bts’ return with you all. I just won’t be very active, but I would absolutely LOVE it if you stayed around for this new journey I’m attempting to embark on. I will keep you posted! 

Lots of love, Jordan 💖 

[sansaorgana]

Can you do a buck x reader where she’s a nurse and takes care of everyone at the 100 and they all think she’s just perfect and a mother figure while all the soldiers are away from that mother figure and one day she like snaps when having to deal with screaming soldiers and she goes up to one the higher power guys and like cussing them out for constant sending the men into a death trap and her having to pick up the pieces and buck has to hold her back while she’s just screaming at the other guy and everyone else is like 🧍

hello, thank you for your request! 🧡 I've just realised that none of my previous Readers in the stories with Buck were nurses lol 😷 most likely because I can't even imagine myself as a nurse and writing about all these things is enough to make me feel sick 🤣 but because of this, it was easy to write this story where the Reader is at her breaking point lol proceed with caution because there are ugly descriptions of blood, needles, death etc.

also this gif asdfghjkl I swear, in the story he has more compassion towards the Reader 🤣🤣🤣

my inbox is open for blurb/short fic requests for major cleven 🤗

You thought you could do it. When the war had started, you hadn’t thought twice as you had signed up to help. Real help. No paperwork or coffee making. You had wanted to become a nurse.

The physical aspect of your job was not that difficult. You knew what to do in most situations and you had learnt how to stop frowning at the physiological body functions. It was the emotional aspect of the job that no one had prepared you for.

Sometimes the boys would come back from the air battles with nothing but mere scratches. They would still come by just to spend time with you and let your gentle, skilled hands to patch them up as they were telling you stories.

Sometimes the same boys would not come back from their next mission and the stories they had told were all that was left of them. You would cherish them in your heart forever.

Sometimes the boys would come back burnt, with half of their faces blown out or their guts bleeding all over the floor. Their screams of pain would haunt you later at night. Those were your boys.

Perhaps that was why you were everyone's favourite nurse. You were getting attached to them so easily, treating everyone as a friend, offering them a loving hug when they needed it, listening to their stories, helping them to write letters to their mothers and girlfriends or children. You were a good spirit of the base and one of the planes was named after you. So far it still hadn’t gone down and everyone treated it as a sign that you were their guardian angel indeed.

You didn’t see yourself as a guardian angel. If you had to stay within the religious imagery examples, you’d rather describe yourself as a mater dolorosa – lady of sorrows watching her son’s suffering and not being able to help him.

Sometimes they would die in your arms. Still, it was better than to die in a burning plane. Better for them. Not for you.

Today was a day of a very difficult mission. Most of the planes hadn’t come back at all. And the ones who had, were full of men screaming in agony and pain. You were barely able to hold it all together when they were reaching their hands out for you as if your touch would heal them. But it wouldn’t. It couldn’t, no matter how much you wanted it.

“(Y/N), you should take a break…” Your friend put her hand on your shoulder. You were exhausted indeed. You were working for three hours straight without sitting down for one second and you were running around from one bed to another. “Go, rest,” she insisted but you shook your head and went back to work.

Only when you noticed that your hands were shaking so much that you weren’t able to inject a needle into a vein properly, you decided to take a break indeed. You didn’t want to cause even more damage by trying too hard.

But before leaving the sickbay you wanted to check on one of the young pilots. He was nineteen years old, it had been his first mission and you remembered how excited he had been about it. Now he was laying on one of the beds, barely breathing as his chest was burnt and lungs damaged.

You were approaching his bed and your heart sank to your chest at the sight of the doctor putting a white sheet over his face.

“Wh-what… What are you doing to Johnson, sir?” You asked.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N),” the doctor shook his head. “He’s just passed away.”

You just stood there with your lips slightly parted. Johnson was just another surname on the list of all these boys you would never forget about. But Johnson was special. He was the youngest you had known. He couldn’t stop talking about his mother and little sister, about his dog and his girlfriend waiting for him back in Alabama.

Your sadness overtook your whole body and then it developed into an anger so big that you felt as if you were about to explode and bring down the whole base.

“Son of a bitch…” You breathed out angrily as you stormed out of the sickbay without even taking your apron off. It was full of blood but you did not care.

You walked down the corridor with murder in your eyes, making everyone step out of the way. And you entered the Colonel’s office without knocking, so loudly and rapidly that all the men inside startled.

“Miss?” Colonel Harding asked as he was sitting behind his desk and showing some sort of a map to a few Majors.

One of them was Major Cleven. He hadn’t been up in the air on that day but he would be tomorrow. And was the one you had befriended the most. But even his presence couldn’t stop your rage at that moment.

“You can’t just keep sending them to die, Colonel!” You clenched your fists and approached the desk as the men watched with big eyes. “Look! Look, Colonel! Look!” You showed him your bloody hands and your apron. “Why is it me with their blood and guts all over me? While you’re just sitting here, planning…” You gave the map a very angry look. You wanted to tear it apart and you were shaking to stop yourself from doing so. “You’re sending them to death, all of them, they’re just boys! Johnson was nineteen years old! Do you even know who he was? Or was he just another number to you?!”

“(Y/N), calm down, let’s take you outside…” Buck approached you carefully but you moved away.

“No! I will not be silenced. I have things to say and I will say them!” You snapped at him and he froze. You laid your eyes back on the surprised Colonel again. “You just sit here and plan how to send them to death more efficiently. You men… Can’t you see how stupid this whole war is? How stupid every war is? And just because some brilliant engineers constructed planes, doesn’t mean they should be used to kill people!”

“Miss…” Colonel furrowed his brow, “Miss I-Don’t-Know-Your-Name, are you done?”

“You son of a bitch!” You banged your bloody fists on his desk and his stupid map got covered with blood. “You don’t even know my name. But I am the one to patch them up and hold their hand when they’re dying after you sent them to death. God damn you, Colonel Harding! You and all the Generals that you serve! God damn Hitler, God damn Churchill and God damn your fucking President Roosevelt!”

“(Y/N), please,” Buck’s strong hands pulled you away. “I’m sorry, Colonel. She’s all shook up,” he tried to explain your behaviour as you started sobbing when the anger had finally left your body. You hid your face in his uniform and allowed him to put his arm around you. “I’ll take her outside.”

“Yeah, you better do it, son,” Colonel nodded at him. Buck started to walk you out slowly and carefully as you heard Colonel’s voice while you were walking out of the door. “Poor girl… She needs a free weekend.”

Buck took you outside and watched you worryingly as you were catching your breath back and trying to calm yourself down, wiping the tears off of your face with the palms of your bloody hands.

“Here, let me,” he took out a handkerchief and wiped your face with it gently. “Gee, (Y/N), what was that?”

“I… I don’t know… I just can’t… I can’t do it anymore, Buck… That boy, Johnson, he was nineteen… Nineteen, for God’s sake,” you sniffed your tears back and looked into his eyes as your lips trembled. “He was telling me stories about his mum and little sister… His dog and his girlfriend… And now… And now he’s gone. Just like that. His lungs were burnt. Every breath was agony…” You tried to explain, still shaking.

“You really need a free weekend,” Buck pointed out and brought you closer to give you another hug.

It felt good to be in his arms. It was comforting. But you were scared to admit to yourself that you indeed liked him more than just a friend. Because if he would go down tomorrow or any other day, it would hurt even more.

“I can’t… I can’t leave my boys…” You took a step back to look at his face again. “And… And I can’t just take a free weekend. It would feel wrong. When you boys are up in the air, so brave and so heroic. All I can do is patch you up later. I can’t give up, no…”

“We all need a break sometimes. Hey,” Buck raised your chin up with his finger, “promise me that you’ll take a free weekend.”

“Aren’t you on a mission this weekend?” You asked.

“Yeah.”

“Then no way, Buck,” you shook your head. “I have to be here to patch you up,” you smiled through the tears.

“There are other nurses ‘round here,” he pointed out with a soft smile.

“I don’t want them to touch you,” you admitted suddenly as your cheeks heated up.

Why the hell had you said that…?

“They don’t know how to patch you up properly, I mean…” You tried to explain yourself quickly. “Only I know how to–”

But he didn’t let you finish. He leaned in very carefully and placed a gentle kiss upon your lips. You were stunned.

“I know what you mean, sweetheart,” he teased after finally breaking the kiss and caressing your cheek with his thumb. “I promise I won’t get a single scratch when you’re not around.”

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Inbox is open! Let's see if my request is accepted 😅

So! Can I request Jane, Jeff, and Zalgo's reaction to their s/o burrowing their chest because "world hard and cold, titty soft and warm." This is with the assumption that they're comfortable with this level of physical affection.

Your request is accepted, and incredibly appreciated. I thrive on this stuff anon, thank you 🥺

Jane:

Jane has come to find this behavior of yours incredibly amusing. It's come to the point that when she sees you approaching her with any sort of sadness on your face she opens her arms wide and beckons you to her with a smile. She'll probably squish you into her chest real nice and tight with a laugh before relaxing back with you. I think she enjoys cuddling with you like that, laying on her side with your face smooshed up in her chest. She lays there with you, running one hand through your hair and the other doing comforting strokes up and down your back. She'll ask you if you want to talk about anything, and if you do (your voice muffled by the tits you have your face buried into) she listens attentively and responds in any helpful way that she can in an attempt to soothe your worries.

If you're not into talking about whatever is stressing you, she alternates between resting in silence with you, telling you stories about her days she hasn't shared yet, or maybe even humming or singing you a song as she holds you. With Jane's treatment, it's honestly damn hard not to fall asleep in her arms like that, and she'll stay in that position with you until you wake up, often falling asleep with you. Whenever you're feeling stressed she always tells you you're welcome to bury yourself in her chest, because sometimes all you need to feel better is a face full of soft tits, which makes you flustered and makes her laugh really hard. She might tease you for it every now and then, but it makes her just as happy and relaxed to have you snuggled up to her like that.

Jeff:

Jeff welcomes any sort of affection from you, especially if you're not feeling well, however, he was not prepared for what greeted him today. He'd just gotten home and had jogged up to greet you, his arms open for a hug, but he didn't know you'd just walk right up and shove your face into his chest, nuzzling into him. He chuckles but asks what you're doing, and when you say that special phrase, "world hard and cold, titty soft and warm", he can't help but burst out into loud laughter. His pecs are big enough that you can kind of move them around a little too when they're not flexed, so if you try and squish his pecs around or up to your face it makes him laugh even harder.

He's quick to scoop you up and carry you to bed, and he'll lay on his back with you resting on top of him and let you cuddle into him as much as you want to, however, you have to deal with him repeatedly gushing over how cute you are and teasing you for doing this in the first place, but he doesn't discourage it at all. If anything, he tells you it makes him happy he can bring you so much comfort, and he reminds you that if you ever need cuddle time all you have to do is ask. He'll keep you safe from the cold hard world and provide you with as much attention as you need. Really, he's just flustered from you doing that to him, and so incredibly happy to have a silly partner like you that makes him feel so loved and cherished. Will also probably tease you by asking you every now and then if you need "titty time" as he's started calling it.

Zalgo:

Often stuck in his office, you usually have to approach Zalgo to ask for snuggles, and of course, he always obliges you, happy to be able to get some physical affection despite his busy work life. When he asks what's troubling you, I would absolutely tell him the same phrase, because while it'll make Jeff/Jane laugh, it makes Zalgo SO confused. He just attributes it as a human thing, and hesitantly tells you, "You may cuddle up to my, uh... 'Tits' if you wish to, my love, if it would make you happy." Which is just about one of the funniest things you'll probably hear come out of his mouth, especially with how unconfident he sounds and the fact that he's clearly blushing, but he's just happy you find his love and affection so calming, especially considering his status as a demon.

You can crawl right into his lap while he works and smoosh your face into his chest, and he'll cradle you with one arm while he uses the other to continue doing his work. He'll probably carry out some small talk with you, happy to have a bit of extra time with you, and he'll ask you to tell him about all of the things you've been up to recently, cherishing moments like this. In fact, with how stressed you seem, he's probably likely to end work a little early so he can spoil you with a nice relaxing bath and some more cuddles in the privacy of your shared bedroom, so he can love on you and not have to worry about work at the same time. His chest is yours to cuddle up to whenever need be, so don't hesitate to ask him.

[bonne-chanson]

Hello! I’d like to make a request! It would be a fem!reader x Fukuzawa. I’d love something that shows the kind and gentle side of his character when he's with someone important to him. A light smut is fine; I really enjoy it when there's romance. Thank you!

a/n: wahhh thanks for being the first to request! i assume you’re also the other account im my inbox who requested for the same thing? :0 haven’t done this in a really long time (i’m talking years lol) so please bear with me if it’s still a little bland :< hopefully i can continue practicing my writing skills as time goes on! ACKKK i feel like this turned into a mild character study too so pls forgive me if this work isn’t the best :’( this is actually my first time writing for fukuzawa so i hope you still enjoy! ♡

softer steel

✑ character/s: yukichi fukuzawa x fem! reader

✑ short desc: beneath a dense exterior lies a vulnerability he can share only with you.

✑ content includes: fluff ; established relationship ; slight character study(?) ; mild nsfw (making out, MINORS DNI!) ; suggestive themes towards the end (not explicit, implied only) ; no plot, it’s really just reader and fukuzawa being mushy-mushy w/ one another

✑ word count: 1.1k words

Yukichi Fukuzawa is the living embodiment of the very same katana he keeps in the saya attached to his waist.

Much the same way a swordsmith crafts the blade so carefully to aid its master in combat, his upbringing had also molded him to be the warrior he is today — trained finely in one of the best government-funded martial arts schools, honed to perfect both his body on the field and his mind with battle strategies, and eventually layered enough to harden himself against whatever the world decides to throw against him and the armed detective agency that he leads. It is for those reasons that, of course, similar to the tamahagane used to create his sharp blade, he had quite the steely demeanor and personality, a direct result of the circumstances he had grown with.

But too sharp a blade and too pure a hardened steel makes for a brittle sword — one that, over time, when used with the kind of violence it was made for, will quickly shatter. Hence, the katana is also forged specifically to have a softer, much more vulnerable material enveloped by the denser steel, giving it the added strength it needs and rendering it malleable enough to cut through anything with the right precision.

For all that density his façade carries, just like his katana, Fukuzawa still holds onto that softness and vulnerability inside just for you.

You, who he holds so close and dear to himself, because you were the only person who could help him overcome anything by your presence alone; you, who balances out the harder shell he has grown over time with your softer presence; you, whom he looks after like you are the most precious gem he could ever hold in his hands; and you, who is always there to greet him when he comes home, allowing him to let go of everything even just for a while within the comfort of the walls of your home, all because your warmth and your love put his oh-so sharpened mind at ease.

Coming home to you today is no different. Per usual, he slides his haori off his shoulders and folds it neatly, placing it on a nearby table for now, releasing a long-held sigh from his lips, and eventually making his way into the safety of your arms.

That softness beneath his steely demeanor only ever surfaces around you, his beloved, and it’s something you never cease to cherish.

“Yukichi,” you call, his head resting on your chest as you thread your fingers through his hair. The gesture feels so light and loving, a stark contrast to the heavier blows he performs with his blade in battles.

He says nothing, simply responding to your call by pulling his head away (much to his disappointment) to face you, cupping your cheek with a gentle hand, calloused by the many hours of practice he spent in his younger years. For the briefest moment, he soaks in the feeling of your breath mingling with his own before his lips gingerly place themselves on yours and the sound of your breathless sigh is swallowed by him.

Wandering fingers make their way into his hair again, playing with his silvery strands, every so often giving them the kind of tugs you know he likes. No matter how many times you pull away to take in another breath, he comes forward again and again to capture your lips, and his hands eventually roam to hold your hips, drawing you closer to himself. It was almost as if he wanted the heat of the moment to melt you both into each other, unknowing of when breaths are taken and where one action ends and another begins until your breaths are in sync and you both mold together into one.

Those same rough, calloused hands of his that hold you so tenderly guide you along, eventually laying you down on his futon, and when he lifts his head to catch a glimpse of you all flushed and breathless, he makes a silent promise to himself to hold you in his heart forever, to remain vulnerable inside just for you.

A hint of a smile graces your lips as you hold his cheek and he leans into your touch, kissing the palm of your hand.

“You’re a lot more affectionate today than usual,” you muse aloud to your lover, but your voice remains a hushed whisper simply to keep the atmosphere of the scene between you two as serene as it is.

He smiles down at you, holding the hand that cradles his face. “Is it so wrong of me to indulge in my love for you like this?”

To many others, Fukuzawa was a man who held himself with the kind of grace and authority that every fellow leader could acknowledge without hesitation. But right now, on his futon, with you beneath him, the quiet ambience of the rustling leaves, the mellow glow of Yokohama’s sunset through the open window and the breeze caressing your faces, he was simply Yukichi, your Yukichi, the man whose heart was as soft as the steel enveloped by the dense blade of his katana.

“Stay with me like this,” you murmur, eyes hooded as his lips near yours again, “just for a little longer…”

He takes his time with you, making sure your comfort comes first before his own. Feathery light touches combined with peppered kisses along your jaw and the skin of your neck, down to your collarbones with his lips tracing your chest dizzies you, and when his hands slowly pull at the obi wrapped around your waist to loosen your yukata, you are a goner. The gentle caresses of his fingers along every little scar and mark on your body and his honeyed words meant for your ears only make you fall deeper in love, and you can’t help it — your heart is as soft as he is for you, so time becomes nothing more than numbers on a clock when you both allow yourselves to indulge in one another for the evening, to let him take care of you in ways only he knows how.

And as you both melt together in each other’s arms, embraced by the warmth of the setting sunrays, he is reminded yet again of just how valuable it is for him, for any man for that matter, to hold onto his vulnerability under his harsh exterior, for a katana to be forged with milder steel inside its tougher shell.

Yukichi Fukuzawa’s past, the circumstances he had faced then, and the rest of the world may have hardened his demeanor, but the softness that lays inside that steely façade still exists and will continue to exist only for you.

a/n: given the large influence of the samurai on bsd fukuzawa’s character and background in martial arts (considering his real-life counterpart was born into a family of samurai), i thought it would have been fitting to try and incorporate that in this work. :} that being said, i’ve listed down some of the terminology that may be worth explaining / i’ve done a little research for. please correct me if i am wrong!

✑ katana: traditional curved blade. this is the weapon fukuzawa chooses to fight in combat and was a sword used by the samurai. if you want to watch the process of making one (as referenced in this work to explore fukuzawa’s character), click here!

✑ saya: the sheath used to hold the katana.

✑ tamahagane: the steel used to forge a katana.

✑ haori: traditional jacket that fukuzawa wears.

✑ obi: a sash worn with the kimono (in this case, a yukata).

✑ yukata: a lighter, more casual version of the kimono, which fukuzawa also wears.

[ririban]

Hi, your comment about Seigi and Richard "but they did kinda become “canon” only in the latest update. In the sense that they finally decided to officially make their relationship a romantic one." Can you tell me how does it happen?

Sorry for the late reply! I don't get a lot of asks so I'm not in the habit of checking my inbox 😅

For anyone else reading this, there are a bunch of spoilers under this. So don't read on if you don't want to be spoiled.

It wasn't anything super dramatic or something along those lines, if that's what you were hoping for, but a very Etra like moment where they just... talked. They've both definitely been aware of each other's feelings for a couple of volumes now, but they weren't in an official romantic relationship until volume 13. It's also mentioned that they were both considering taking their relationship in that direction prior to the events of volume 11, and Richard had even asked Seigi “If we keep work and personal life separate, would you like to continue this relationship with me?” (this translation might not be accurate as my Japanese isn't very good so I relied on MTL quite a bit). It's also mentioned that Seigi knew what Richard was talking about here, but Jeff called at that moment and interrupted them. After this Seigi just... didn't respond. In volume 11 there was a scene where Seigi asked Richard to wait a bit longer and Richard responded that he's ready to wait a hundred years.

Back to volume 13, they had a conversation where Richard said that while they may have had a student-teacher like relationship in the past, they were equals at the present moment so Seigi shouldn't hesitate no matter how he wants to respond. So Seigi told him that he was scared. He'd been constantly improving himself during his time with Richard and had been showing his best self, all to make Richard happy. But he wasn't sure if he could continue growing at this pace. He feared he wouldn't be able to provide Richard with as much enjoyment as he had up to that point. Basically, he was worried about what comes after they get together. He was worried that a day would come where Richard is no longer able to see a future with him.

But Richard said that he's growing at the same pace as Seigi and that the future isn't infinite. And I'll just post a rough translation of the following bit (again, I don't actually know Japanese, so this may be incorrect):

“Seigi, life itself has no ‘second chance.’ There is no ‘future.’ Every living thing that is born will one day live out its life and leave this world. It’s not strange to be afraid of that—it’s a natural feeling. But trying to include my relationship with you in that fear doesn’t make sense. To be blunt, everything that begins will eventually end. Nothing lasts forever.” “…Not even diamonds?” “No, not even diamonds. Because their brilliance exists only in the gaze of those who behold them.” Thinking of the world’s most famous diamond tagline, Seigi smiled stiffly. Richard returned his smile, a gentle, soft expression. “And that’s precisely why I want to stay by your side. Even if the word ‘beauty’ one day belongs to someone or something else, I still want you to call me beautiful. I want to see what I look like in your eyes—eyes with gray hairs and wrinkles—when that day comes.” “…” "Even if, one day, diamonds were to turn to ash, or the powerful flames that flowed within molten lava cooled and hardened into fragile gray rock, I know you would cherish them still. I am certain of it. Because I, too, am confident that I will keep the brilliance of the diamond that is you within my eyes forever." "...I might turn into a boring guy really soon, you know." "Don’t worry. You’ve already entertained me more than a lifetime’s worth. Everything from here on is bonus time." "...Haha." This time, it was Seigi’s turn to laugh. He laughed quietly at first—haha, haha—then, just like Richard moments ago, crouched down and continued laughing. Richard gently placed a hand on Seigi’s trembling back and stroked it. "Seigi. The reason I find you so endearing is not because you constantly cherish me or make me happy. Nor is it because you are a living being who grows at a remarkable pace. I love you because you are you." "..." "Now and always." "...Me too." "I know." "...Yeah." Seigi let out a deep sigh and stood up. The groan of resignation that escaped his lips carried a faint sweetness, as though something was caught in his throat. Richard sensed it just as Seigi sniffled softly. With a composed expression, Richard tilted his head. "Is something the matter?" "Nah, just got something in my eye. Don’t mind me. Ah… you’re still as beautiful as ever. The most beautiful in the world. Sometimes it makes me want to cry." Seigi took a step closer to Richard and touched his cheek. Then, pressing his forehead against Richard’s collar, he let out another sigh. "You’re beautiful. Just your existence feels like the sun, shining down and lighting up my life." "It may be time to consider installing solar panels. This is the third or fourth time you’ve said that to me." "Sorry." "There’s no need to apologize. The sun always feels pleased when you praise it." Richard shrugged. Seigi raised his head, his expression somewhere between troubled and amused. "I’m truly happy to be able to share the same time with you. Even if the invisible amount of time we have left keeps shrinking, I’m so happy to be spending it with you. So happy it scares me sometimes, and I feel like running away. But… there aren’t many places left for me to run to anymore." "It seems that way." Seigi removed his hand from Richard’s cheek, took a step back, straightened his posture, and looked directly at the beautiful face in front of him. Then he spoke. "I want to stay by your side. Always. So… stay with me. Even if I turn into a wreck, promise you’ll stay. Even if it’s a lie." "Unfortunately, I’m all out of lies to tell you." Without either of them signaling the other, they wrapped their arms around each other, embracing tightly.

After this the scene moved to more plot relevant stuff which I'm not including here.

[spiderb00]

missing the famout fic hours 😞 this is a silly little brainrot but has yoonchip ever accidentally caught yn and sophia making out or walking in on them? i feel like sophia would be REALLY careful not to make sure it happens but sometimes there’s a slip up yk 🤷 if so, how does it go down ?? this could be a headcanon or short answer i don’t really mind , btw i loved the eunchae n haerin fics !

- 🌟 anon

Hi anon! First of all, thank you for the feedback on Eunchae and Haerin's fics!

Secondly, I got your inbox about Fam out before and I loved it, I will definitely use it , I also miss my girls, but I'm so busy now, I think I'll have to wait a while to write about them.

But come on…

As you said, Sophia is VERY careful about what Yoonchae witnesses, especially after the youngest girl got a room in the couple's house.

Sophia always makes sure that the doors are locked and that the windows are closed if Yn and she are doing something improper.

In fact, Sophia and Yn don't even do anything when Yoonchae is around, she simply cuts off any intimate interaction with Yn when the younger girl is around.

Sophia always scolds Yn for doing something inappropriate in front of Yoonchae, whether it's hitting her ass when she passes by or even longer kisses, she cherishes Yoonchip's innocence very much.

It was only once, a very quick slip that happened. Yoonchae enjoying the pool while Yn and Sophia were in the kitchen, the Filipina cooking when Yn arrived and hugged her from behind, distributing kisses around Sophia's neck and putting her hands under the sweatshirt that the Filipina had stolen from Yn.

"Yn, Yoonchae is out there…" Sophia alerts Yn, sighing as the hands of the tallest one go up her waist.

"She's distracted outside-"

The noise of the sliding door alerted Yn and Sophia, causing the two to separate at the speed of light. In the process, Sophia ended up elbowing Yn in the stomach and the Italian girl slammed her back on the countertop behind her.

"Hey! I can…" Yoonchae stopped speaking, seeing Yn slightly bent over and a slightly panting Sophia. "Is everything okay?"

"YES!" Sophia replied, putting a smile on her face. "Yn just tripped over the countertop." Sophia said, making the taller raise her thumb to the younger girl.

"Ah, okay. Was I going to ask if I can have a ice cream?" Yoonchae asked.

"Of course, honey. I'll get it for you." Yn said, walking to the freezer and picking up the ice cream she had bought especially for the younger girl.

After the younger girl returned to the garden, Sophia looked at her girlfriend.

"Are you really okay?" Sophia asked, getting close to Yn.

"yes, I just got scared." Yn said, immediately feeling another pain in her abdomen, again caused by Sophia, only this time with a pinch.

"Ow!"

"Don't do it when Yoonchae is around." The Filipina said, the expression on her face making Yn shake her head quickly. "You're going to do the dishes."

[iggyshippingcorner]

2: alpha stone/omega robotnik (canon-compliant, s2) (word count: 2550)

[ here is my second drabble for the poll prompts featuring: reunions, the mean bean cafe, dubiously consensual bond-bites, talking around your feelings, and "it's not miscommunication if there's no communication to begin with". ]

this is dedicated to the lovely (-) anon in my inbox who has been absolutely DELIVERING with abo asks for the last few weeks. thank you so much for this idea!

The loneliness is the worst part, even after eight months of the doctor’s absence. 

Stone brews coffee and serves customers and maintains the pop-up lab outside of business hours, while the loneliness aches like a bruise, nestled deep in his chest. There is a gaping abyss in his routine, in his life, a doctor-shaped hole in his every waking moment. Time doesn’t soothe it, just emphasises the raw edges of it. Sometimes, when the pain of it drives him to more traitorous thoughts, he supposes it would be easier if he knew the doctor was dead. If he knew there was no other recourse, at least he would know what to do. 

But eight months without any evidence of his demise-- or his survival, his alpha brain whines, gutted-- means Stone can only follow the Robotnik Manifesto and wait by the door of the Mean Bean cafe for his doctor to come back home. Making too many cups of coffee for someone who hates the taste (he much prefers tea) and polishing the badniks until they gleam. Pressing his fingers into the slowly fading welt of a mark on his neck where the doctor claimed him-- has claimed him, over and over, refreshing the indents of his teeth every time they begin to heal. 

Stone doesn’t know what he’ll do when the bite finally heals over. On the bad days, he considers going at the flesh of his neck with one of his trusty knives, to flay the marks of the doctor’s incisors open, begging them to scar more deeply. But he remembers how Robotnik feels about his tools, and knows the only thing he can do is wait patiently for the doctor’s return. Perhaps if he plays his cards right, the doctor will remedy the issue sooner rather than later. On the really bad days, he even fantasises about the doctor baring his throat, allowing Stone to claim him back-- though these thoughts feel even more traitorous than the others, to dream about the doctor being any kind of submissive. It doesn’t stop them from happening with higher frequency, the longer time goes on and the distance between him and his memories widens. 

In a frantic effort to remedy this, he’s been thinking about the first time Robotnik bit him, turning the memory over and over in his mind like he might find something new. Replaying a cherished moment until he can see it every time he closes his eyes, seeking comfort from ghosts.

[ He’s only been working under Dr. Robotnik for a week, and it’s been one hazing test after another. Stone had been warned about this, the domineering and the posturing and the physical threats. But not one person had warned him about the proximity. 

“Did I give you permission to think? In my lab?”

It’s a rhetorical question, so Stone keeps his mouth shut. Dr. Robotnik doesn’t seem to find this enough, as he clamps one gloved hand over Stone’s mouth and leans in even closer. “I asked you to do one simple thing, agent-- do not get your useless alpha stench on anything in my lab. None of this is yours. Hell, when you are working in my lab, you are mine. I decide where your scent goes.”

It violates at least three different HR mandates on physical engagement, five on hostile workplaces, and definitely qualifies for a designation harassment suit. Stone is honestly elated. The doctor has been searching for his scent. And the words themselves are halfway to an informal claim. Physical, non-sexual displays of domination are usually something a self-respecting alpha has to pay for, but all Stone has to do is breathe a little too loudly in the doctor’s direction and--

A sharp sting of teeth at his throat cuts through his introspection. It’s not an attempt to claim-- not anywhere close enough to be effective-- but it’s… it’s almost offensively brazen, to bite an unmarked alpha first. The doctor pulls back, self-satisfaction clear on his face. Stone isn’t sure what his own expression is, and isn’t that a treat? He tries not to breathe too heavily against the glove still covering his mouth. 

It’s just another attempt to get him to quit. Stone ignores the heat rushing to his face and the growl of his alpha brain to get his own incisors on display in favour of raising one eyebrow, the closest to a challenge he can get without opening his mouth. Dr. Robotnik’s smug expression morphs into shock, then determined fury. He shoves Stone back against the wall he’d pinned himself against, one hand still clamped over his mouth, his other arm braced against Stone’s chest, forcing him against the lab wall. He narrowly avoids slamming his head back against the wall, his palms braced flat against it in an effort to keep from reaching out, from touching the doctor. 

Another sharp bite, fangs sinking into the column of his throat, inches shy of the bonding gland. Canines savagely tear through flimsy skin, teeth just a tad sharper than any beta’s ought to be. Stone clenches his jaw, and makes no move to throw the other man off despite his capability to. The submission makes Dr. Robotnik growl, rumbling his displeasure right against Stone’s carotid. The position doesn’t let Stone move very much, but he still tilts his chin up and to the right as far as he can, bares his bonding site like a dare and the doctor--

Well, let it be said that Dr. Robotnik never backs down from a challenge. ]

The day the doctor comes back arrives without a whisper or inclination of difference. It’s a busy Tuesday morning that melts into a lazy Tuesday afternoon, pulling the last sheet of danishes from the oven in between an earl grey with lavender for Mrs. Mathers and a trio of frozen hot chocolates for some local teens. The text sends him into a flurry of activity, banishing his customers with a kind, disarming smile and a claim of “family emergency”. His scent must be doing something in his favour because several people pack up without him having to cajole them in the slightest, and wish him good luck. He has the entire cafe shuttered and cleaned in twenty minutes, and he retreats to make sure the pop-up lab is just as clean. 

By the time the doctor gives him an ETA 5 text (gracious, lovely, merciful), he’s gotten the badniks spotless and the lab perfect and his ingredients measured out. The latte comes together like second nature, easy as breathing, but without any complexity to distract his whirling thoughts.The doctor is back. The doctor is back! If he had a tail, it would be wagging furiously. He carefully etches his foam art, willing his hands to stop trembling in excitement. His heart thumps loudly in his ears.

He gazes down at the foam and wonders if it’s a little over the top. His face and ears feel warm. His alpha brain crows eagerly for his… well. For his doctor. It may be humiliating to any other alpha to crave the presence of someone who you aren’t mated to, the way he does, but Stone cares little for the opinions of fools. His neck itches, tender bond gland throbbing under the skin. He wipes the back of his wrist across his cheek, letting out a quiet laugh as he gets a whiff of his own elated pheromones. Pull it together, Stone.

The bell above the doors chimes and breaks his moment of distraction. Stone straightens up, folds his hands in front of himself, tail wagging, ears perked. The doctor sweeps into the humble cafe with a manic grin on his face and a slightly surprising lack of hair, but it’s him. Fondness and relief swells within Stone’s chest. Robotnik draws closer, moustache wild and eyes shadowed by the dim lights overhead. 

His hands reach out for the cup. Stone places it in his palms as delicately as he would a Badnik power core. Robotnik brings it up to his face, takes a long inhale of the dark roast, and then lifts the mug to his lips. Stone draws in a slow breath and--

The thick scent of honey and myrrh and something distinctly earthy fills his senses. And underneath it all, the immediately identifiable scent of an omega. The overload of information nearly causes him to miss the look of satisfaction that crosses the doctor’s face as he savours his first sip of the latte. The flashpoint surge of pride in his work is overshadowed quickly by a growing sense of envy. Eight months of absence and the doctor comes whirling back into his life smelling like some omega?

He forces himself back into the present as the strange red alien stalks closer, eyes wary and narrowed. He plays along as best he can, not having to fake his relief or his concern as the doctor gives a barebones explanation, but he seethes inside. He’s given a moment of reprieve when the doctor slips away to the bathroom and the alien exits the cafe to… Stone’s not actually sure what it’s doing. But the scent finally clears and allows him a moment of clarity, brain unclouded by the fog of jealousy. Stone assesses what he knows-- the doctor has been off-planet for eight months. The doctor smells strongly of an omega, an unbonded one at that. The doctor is extremely touch-averse, scent-sensitive, and difficult to get along with. The odds of him actually coming into contact with a foreign omega are, gratifyingly, next to nothing. 

But then…. Where is the scent coming from? Stone sweeps the main lab floor to give himself something to do with his hands. He can hear the shower running in the other room. Robotnik smells like an omega. A particularly fragrant one. Stone has never encountered his unfettered scent before, usually buried beneath the lab’s scent dampeners and the smell of coffee and motor oil that clung to both of their clothes. His neck itches. The pieces come together slowly, puzzle unfolding 

The door to the bathroom clanks open. Steam spills out, and Robotnik comes out, dressed in a loose, black tunic and some comfortable pants Stone had pulled from his own dresser upstairs. His moustache is still damp. That infuriatingly lovely scent fills the space between them rapidly, and something in it makes Stone’s mouth flood with saliva. The doctor sighs loudly, voice wonderfully familiar. “You would not believe how long I have been waiting for a hot shower, Stone. If I had the materials I would have-- why are you looking at me like that?” 

Stone blinks several times. In his mind, a single lightbulb blinks on after several false starts. His hands tighten imperceptibly around the handle of the broom. If he blurts it, confronts the doctor, he might flee into the night and never look back. If he doesn’t confirm it right now, he might die on the spot. The itch beneath his skin intensifies. 

It’s not his best idea, but it is… efficient. 

Stone digs his fingers into the knot of his tie, loosening it. He works open the top few buttons of his shirt. Robotnik’s eyes zero in on the movement, and he draws closer, moth to flame, predator to prey. Stone has to swallow a few times before the words come out properly, slightly raspy, “I think we’re a little overdue, doctor.” Hook.

He bares the nearly-healed bruise of his bonding site, and he watches Robotnik’s pupils dilate in the familiar blue-tinged glow of the lab lights. He takes the next few steps into Stone’s personal space, that sweet, earthy fragrance washing over him like a thick fog. Each breath draws it deeper into his lungs, Robotnik’s true scent settling heavy on his tongue. A gloved hand comes up to grip his jaw tightly. 

“A bit presumptuous, agent,” he hisses, though there’s a faint dusting of pink to his cheeks that makes Stone’s heart skip a beat. Its existence makes him bolder than he would otherwise be: “No more presumptuous than half-bonding your subordinate.” Line.

Robotnik draws back a half-centimeter, surprised. Stone watches the realisation strike him, and eagerly bares his throat before the anger (or worse, the horror) can take root. He’s sure the doctor can see his pulse thrumming beneath the skin like this, can smell the honest desire and devotion as he leans back in to sniff blatantly at his throat. The fingers gripping his jaw flex ever-so-slightly, and he swallows. 

“You didn’t know?” Robotnik asks, the softest secret pressed delicately into Stone’s waiting palms. His voice doesn’t tremble, but it comes far too close for comfort. Stone settles a gentle hand on his hip, heart stuttering at the physical reminder of him. 

“I never suspected anything,” Stone says earnestly. He feels more than sees a measure of tension bleed out of the doctor at his reassurance, and oh if that isn't the headiest rush of satisfaction. Robotnik lets out a laugh that is just a touch too loud for how close they are. “Of course you didn’t. I didn’t synthesise my own blockers for nothing.”

The response wrings a laugh out of Stone despite the hammering of his heart. He missed this-- their easy banter, the suffocating proximity. To have it all back now, after so long is nearly unbelievable. He could fall to his knees and weep, if not for the vice-like hand gripping his jaw and keeping him upright. 

The wicked sting of fangs in his neck snaps him out of his maudlin thoughts. He groans, a thoughtless little sound, and Robotnik laughs again. The noise is muffled by Stone’s flesh, but the vibration of it sends shivers from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. His teeth bite deeper, and Stone sighs as the itching under his skin finally abates and his bond gland settles in the wake of the doctor’s sharp canines, carving the evidence of devotion into Stone’s skin where it belongs. 

When Robotnik finally pulls away, his teeth and lips are faintly stained with Stone’s blood. He looks… Stone blinks long and slow at him, feeling more than a little dizzy. After a moment of bated breath silence, Robotnik finally says, “I suppose it’s time we found a more permanent solution, mm?”

Stone’s mouth drops open. A dark red flush colours Robotnik’s cheeks. They stare at each other for a moment longer. The doctor shakes his head slightly with the hand still gripping his jaw. “Stone? Don’t tell me I killed what few brain cells remain bouncing around in your skull.”

A slow, uncontrollable smile threatens to split Stone’s face in half as the words sink in. A more permanent solution. The longer he stays silent, the darker the doctor blushes. As lovely as it is to watch, Stone would be remiss to leave him hanging.

“I would be honoured, maestro,” Stone murmurs, chest feeling fit to burst with the rush of fondness coursing through him. “To wear your mark for the rest of my life.”

It’s odd. Stone hasn’t gone anywhere the past eight months, but looking at the victorious, maniacal grin that spreads across Robotnik’s face, he feels an awful lot like he’s finally come home.