#at all times.. what about THAT hmm?? .. the ideal..

[etvdes]

if siobhan could have it all back, she'd go back in a heart beat. if she woke up tomorrow and was seventeen again, she'd beg and plead and keep erin from ignoring her, she'd call from the hospital and beg her to come home, she'd wish on every star she could that they wouldn't go so long without talking, that she'd still be everything erin wanted. she knew she could if she just tried hard enough. but she couldn't go back, she couldn't keep erin from ignoring her, she couldn't be enough. so all she could do was sit here, flirt, and hope against all hope that she'd actually be able to convince erin that she was someone worth investing in all over again. and maybe in the years since erin was gone, she had learned something. at least, she was hoping she had. a well timed smile, a twirl of her hair, and maybe erin could be putty in her hands the way so many people had been, in order for her to get what she wanted. and maybe those people hadn't been useful for anything other than a free drink, or entrance to a party, but theoretically, if she extrapolated maybe it would work. there had been a time where she knew each of erin's sordid love affairs by name, at least all the ones that had been covered in media. she remembered at the beginning, when erin left, and all of her ballet friends would ask her about how everything was going abroad. she remembered blushing, not knowing what was coming for her. she remembered the pitying looks, the first time erin had been connected with someone in the media. it was PAINFUL to say the least. but now they were here, and siobhan couldn't even pretend she was still wrapped in it. maybe in a week, if erin was gone again, but for right now she could live in the fantasy that nothing had ever driven them apart. and she could simultaneously live in an equally appealing fantasy, where she didn't have to talk about any of those deep, ugly secrets that had threatened to choke her out in the years erin has been away. she could pretend that everything was perfect, exactly the way she liked it. and that was intoxicating. blue eyes sparkle as she looks at erin, drinking her in like a good martini, and fair cheeks flushed at her words. she missed this so much. her heart skipped a beat in her chest, and then she's nodding, soft giggle parting pillowy pink lips, and she can't even help herself. "hmm, pleased and satisfied. something tells me that you know something about what makes me pleased and satisfied." it's playful and fun, and for once siobhan is forcing her mind not to move at a million miles a minute, looking forward to some idealized future. for once she's just here. and she couldn't be more thrilled.

siobhan flirts back and a warm grin spreads on erin's face, her eyes sparkling from the attention she's getting from her. this. this is all she's ever wanted. siobhan's eyes on her, her voice playful, as if there's still a chance for them, a shot in the dark to get back to what they were. she knows already that despite her best efforts, she can't resist the rehead. can tell that she's going to flirt back, trying to make her blush and smile the way siobhan does when she wants her.

but part of her feels like it's unfair. there's been dozens of girls in bars with her during all those years, and it'd always been too easy to switch on the charm, to say the right words to make them stutter or fall into bed with her. back in her team, on the other side of the ocean, she'd gotten a reputation, some less than family friendly nicknames about her taste for girls and one night stands. sure, no one actually knew that she'd delete any number as soon as she left, or that she could barely recall their names a week after. because it had never been about them. it was always about looking for something through them, a closeness, a feeling, a rush of something that would make her feel alive. and once her teammates had noticed her pattern, the way she'd go for the pretty proper girls with clear eyes and red hair, they had teased her to no end. some of them had pushed, trying to get it out of her - was it a type? a childhood crush she was trying to replicate? - but she'd never answered, turning the question around or switching the discussion. because she hadn't told anyone about siobhan. about that perfect girl with red hair and clear eyes, about how the rush of taking a random girl home couldn't ever compare to the simple sensation of her hand wrapped in erin's. so she'd let them talk, laughing along and pretending that she wouldn't fall back into her patterns the second she felt lonely.

still, she snaps out of it and with a genuine grin - far from the practiced cocky smirk she usually wore - she leans forward, eyes briefly tilting to siobhan's mouth before she replies. "i'm telling you to do whatever will make you feel the most pleased and satisfied." she lets the tension hang in the air for a few seconds before she pulls back, her eyes devious as she silently pushes siobhan to keep this going.

[icewindandboringhorror]

I can't do much productively during the heat wave/health issue flare up/etc. like work on my games or anything where I have to sit at the computer/type for long periods of time, BUT.. I did passively sculpt a few tiny foods lol. I wanted to do one of my bigger usual sculptures, but those take so much more time and concentration, I thought something small just to keep my hands busy would be better.. close up photos look kind of weird and blurry from my camera settings or something, but overall they came out okay, especially in person.. Nearly the only reason I ever wanted to buy dolls as a kid was to get my hands on the miniature foods and plates and stuff that came with them, I've always just been obsessed with small versions of things like that, so.. why not make some! lol

[starrycat123-blog]

oksies hi starting a new thread of get to know you

haii I'm moth and also thea you may call me any nickname as well <3

I love musicals so so much (niche and popular!! basic-shaming is lame)

I am superhero obsessed (augh pied piper)

doctor who is my autism (yay river sonf!!!!)

good omens heoughhhhhhhh

super excited to meet you <3333333

Hi moth!! You can call me tetra. Don't worry that's not my real name or anything tho. I took it from the concept of tetrachords in music.

If we're generous about what we call superheroes, then maybe most of the things I like are superhero based. I mean obviously there's marvel and dc, but then there's stuff like dpxdc, sonic the hedgehog (idk if I've ever heard him called a superhero but he kinda is), if we count magical girls then like. Sailor moon and madoka magica

I haven't seen any episodes of good omens, but I read a really good fanfic of Crowley going to therapy a while back, and a couple funny ones with like yelp reviews of Aziraphale's bookstore. Plus I love the good omens analysis posts on here. I feel like maybe I half know some of what's happened in the show but also probably haven't scratched the surface. I'm kinda bad at watching TV shows, so there's a lot of stuff that I know from fandom but haven't seen. For another example of that, I've only watched one or two episodes of Sonic Prime. I reblog posts for it and it sounds good but idk. Just bad at it.

I'm a much more casual fan of musicals, I think for the same thing as above where I just struggle to sit and watch something on purpose. But I listen to the music from them sometimes, I've read transcripts online of a couple, and i swoon whenever I see a post analyzing the meaning of a musical song, especially when they go beyond lyrics and start going into the music theory in the tune. I don't have the skills or knowledge to do that myself but I love it so much

(when the singer changes their technique to enhance the meaning,, when this or that chord is a step outside the key to symbolize change or isolation or anything,,, using instruments as symbols for this or that character,,, tbh it doesn't have to be a musical even shout out to that youtube video by Scruffy on how fnaf's audio and sound effects make it scarier)

Lately I've been bouncing back and forth between Sonic and DPxDC. With hints of Slay The Princess in there bc I saw part of a playthrough of that awhile ago and loved the concept. I reblog madoka magica stuff whenever I see it (except magia record bc I know next to nothing about it) because that stuff makes me lose my mind. The love the pain the hope the despair!! Homura is probably like my ultimate blorbo but I love all the five girls they're so cool. I actually read the manga instead of watching the show though so I'm not as familiar with all the music. Plus I think the show had some extra scenes. Although it's a little confusing bc I think some of the extra scenes I see are magia record so idk.

Also I'm a fan of arts and crafts and will reblog that kind of thing once in a while, along with cute cat stuff.

Super excited to meet you too!

[neverendingford]

.

[falllpoutboy]

the black female experience is so crazy like. we’re supposed to be perfect all the time except when we’re unjustly vilified then we’re evil and we suffered through microaggressions from literally everyone since birth to the day we die like nobody got our back except us

[unproduciblesmackdown]

yeah speaking of the most personal instrument of death / brutal vengeful catharsis gay sex foil confrontation. the musician gets got by lo cocodrilo? respectively, give him a kiss

[joonie-beanie]

Doctor's Orders | [Wriothesley x Reader]

Summary: “Simply put, the Duke needs to have sexual intercourse to relieve his tension. After watching the two of you and seeing you interact on both physical and intellectual levels, I determined that you would be ideal partners for each other. So, I invited the both of you to partake in an aphrodisiac made from the herbs you gathered for me.” In which a simple tea time turns heated, and you get caught up in the consequence of Wriothesley not listening to his doctor. Content: Smut, Consensual Sex, Oral Sex, Aphrodisiacs, fem!reader Word Count: 7.9k

Sigewinne is evil.

You would have never suspected that such a tiny, cute body could contain so much malevolence. (Although, Sigewinne would personally argue that you’re confused, and that the word you’re looking for is actually benevolence. But, you digress.)

It all starts a few weeks into your employment at the Fortress of Meropide.

You’d spotted a job listing for a “personal assistant” in passing one day, and had immediately become interested thanks to the very generous salary listed on the paper. Seeing the job was located in Fontaine’s unofficial prison had, of course, caused you to have some second thoughts about applying, but at the end of the day, money is money.

Which is how you’d found yourself down on the ocean floor, waiting with a few other candidates outside the Duke’s office.

You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t nervous—waiting there to meet the head honcho of the prison. That when he stepped out to call you inside for your interview—all tall and beefy and scarred—your heart didn’t nervously flutter inside your chest.

…but to your surprise, he’s actually much softer than he appears.

“So,” he says, sitting down across from you at his desk. He folds his arms and smiles at you. “Why should I hire you? ”

Having been through this process before, you had immediately rattled off your qualifications and experiences. A few of which Wriothesley had proceeded to comment on and inquire about further. But it wasn’t until he asked—

“What benefit will I receive from picking you specifically?”

And you’d responded with—

“Errand girl.”

“What?”

“I can run errands for you. I’m sure the guards can be slow, going back and forth. But if you’re my direct employer, I can do whatever you want. Drop documents off, check in on things…pick up more tea.”

—that Wriothesley finally makes up his mind.

“Hmm. Very convincing.”

The next day, you receive a letter with the terms of your employment, and your official start date.

So, since then, you’ve been working for Wriothesley. Which is actually kind of…nice.

Your job mostly consists of going back and forth between the prison and the surface, so that Wriothesley can stay in the Fortress and better monitor his domain. The autonomy the job grants you is very rewarding, and in the same breath, Wriothesley also feels rewarded by how you take care of things without him needing to ask more than once.

Safe to say, the two of you get along.

…which Sigewinne notices.

You, of course, meet Sigewinne on your first day. Wriothesley makes a point of introducing you and showing you where the nurse’s office is located, in case you get hurt, or need to drop something off.

The human-like melusine enthusiastically welcomes you, and, at first, you see her as…someone sweet, and caring. A treasure of the prison.

However, over time, your opinion of her slowly starts to change.

Because she keeps looking at you. Specifically, whenever you’re standing next to Wriothesley.

“Why is she doing that?” you ask him one day, nudging him gently with your elbow. He immediately looks up from his meal, over to where Sigewinne is waiting in the lunch line, her pink eyes boring into you.

“She’s probably just double checking that you’re healthy,” Wriothesley responds, paying her no mind. “I often catch her staring at me, too. You must be growing on her.”

Despite his reassuring words, you can’t help but feel a little…put off…by the look in her eyes. Like she’s plotting something.

The second weird thing you notice is when you walk into the infirmary to drop off some herbs she’d asked for, and find her drawing. At first, you assume she’s doodling, since she seems kid-like a lot of the time.

But instead, when you lean over her shoulder and look, you see that she’s writing words. A big, black “DO NOT DISTURB”...with pink hearts and a few flowers drawn around it.

“What’s that for?” you ask her, forcing a smile.

“Oh! It’s just for a project I’m working on,” she responds, swiveling in her chair to face you. She happily kicks her feet, her eyes darting to the herbs you’re carrying with you.

“Ah, are those what I asked for? Thank you!”

You hand her the small bundle of dried flowers and grasses, watching as she immediately turns and places them on her desk next to some string, and cheesecloth.

“You’re welcome,” you respond, taking a small step backwards. “If that’s all, I’ll keep working on the rest of the tasks on my list—”

“Wait,” she says, grabbing your wrist. You instantly freeze, your eyes going wide as you turn back to face her. There’s a serious look on her face.

“How do you feel about Wriothesley?”

Her question makes your heart skip—heat rising on your skin.

“What?”

She doesn’t bother elaborating or giving you context, just waits for you to respond. You cough a little, feeling awkward, and wondering what kind of answer she’s looking for.

“Well…I mean. I think he’s a good boss. He’s friendly, and devoted to his job. He runs the prison well.”

Sigewinne nods, but doesn’t comment. Just keeps…staring.

Feeling pressured, you force yourself to think of more to say.

“Um…he’s deserving of his title and the respect he garners. I…enjoy speaking with him? Like when he invites me to partake in tea breaks. I dunno…he just kinda reminds me of a big, fluffy puppy. He looks scary but he’s actually pretty…cute, y’know?”

Finally, Sigewinne smiles. She takes your hand in her tiny ones, giving it a squeeze.

“Thank you for answering my question. You can go now.”

You blink at her dumbly, but nonetheless excuse yourself from the room.

Two days later, Wriothesley invites you to his office for tea. And to your surprise, when you walk in, you find Sigewinne waiting there as well.

“Thank you for coming!” she says as you enter the room. You flash her a smile, taking a seat in one of the open chairs around the table.

“Of course!”

“Sigewinne has a tea she wants us both to try,” Wriothesley explains, a fond look in his eyes as he watches the resident nurse flit around—pouring hot water into the teacups that have been set out.

You nod.

“I see.”

“Although, I don’t know why you won’t just steep the tea in the pot,” Wriothesley complains to her, just as Sigewinne places individual tea bags in each cup. “Are we not all being served the same tea?”

She cutely huffs.

“For your information, no we are not. Your and Y/N’s tea is unique.”

“Oh?” Wriothesley leans forward to look into the teacups as the colors from the herbs begin to bleed into the water. “What’s so unique about it?”

“You’ll see,” she responds with a playful look, one that causes Wriothesley to amusedly raise his eyebrows. However, he doesn’t say anything more—simply waiting for the tea to appropriately steep.

“...are you using the herbs I brought you?”

You can’t help but notice the smell wafting from the cup in front of you is a little familiar. Sigewinne nods.

“Wow! I’m surprised you noticed.”

“Ah, so this must be the reason you wanted me to lend you Y/N for a task the other day,” Wriothesley chimes in, his icy blue eyes once again shifting to Sigewinne. 

“Do I get to know what herbs you requested Y/N to bring you, exactly?”

The resident nurse shakes her head, quietly laughing when Wriothesley sighs and deflates back into his chair. 

“It’s meant to be a surprise! I want to see what you think about the taste without knowing the ingredients.”

“I suppose that’s fair.”

Folding your hands on your lap, the office descends into silence for a brief moment, the three of you intently watching the teacups in front of you. Then, Sigewinne finally claps her hands and declares—

“Okay, they’ve steeped long enough. Go ahead!”

“Finally,” Wriothesley happily mumbles, reaching forward to pick up the pristine little plate on which his cup of tea resides. He brings the cup to his nose, inhaling deeply, and then takes a tentative sip.

“Hmm…”

He frowns, his brows pinching as he tries to discern the flavors he’s tasting. 

Curiosity getting the better of you, you take a sip from your own cup—wincing as the hot liquid accidentally burns your tongue.

“So?” Sigewinne prompts, staring excitedly between the two of you.

“It’s…pleasant,” you respond, clearly not as big of a tea connoisseur as the Duke. “It has a hint of sweetness.”

“It tastes like a Rainbow Rose smells,” Wriothesley adds, taking another sip. His gaze slides to you. “Did you pick some for her?”

You shake your head.

“No, I didn’t. Or…at least I didn’t pick any fresh ones. I did go to a vendor and purchase something in a bottle that looked like crushed, pink dust.”

Sigewinne cutely laughs. 

“As expected of you, Your Grace. Yes, one of the ingredients is dried Rainbow Rose petals. Do you like it?”

Wriothesley makes a pleased sound.

“I do. The taste is light, but pleasant—like Y/N said.”

“Good! I want both of you to drink up.” 

Sigewinne finally picks up her own tea, and you can’t help but notice the difference in color when compared to yours and Wriothesley’s. She really is drinking something different…but why?

“Aye aye, captain,” Wriothesley responds, which makes Sigewinne laugh. You smile at the cute interaction between them, and have some more of your tea as well.

Together, the three of you engage in friendly conversation—catching up about recent topics while indulging in tea and a few different snacks that Wriothesley had pulled out for the occasion. As you drink, you can’t help but notice you feel…warm. A heat that spreads out from your stomach, and slowly creeps into your limbs.

You’ve never felt this way before but…maybe the tea is just extra hot today? 

You glance up to Wriothesley and notice that he’s a little flushed as well. Which is…reassuring? You think. Since you’re obviously not the only one affected.

“Oh! Y/N!” 

Sigewinne’s sudden call of your name draws you from your thoughts, and you look over at her. She smiles.

“I forgot to ask, but are you dating anyone?”

“Sigewinne,” Wriothesley gently scolds. He leans forward and sets his teacup on the table, the cup now empty.

His tone practically says “It’s not appropriate to ask questions like that” without actually saying it. Sigewinne pouts.

“Aww, c’mon. We’re all friends here! I wouldn’t ask otherwise.”

Hearing that the melusine considers you to be a friend, you decide to grace her with an answer—ignoring the tingling of the taste buds on your tongue.

“No, I am not seeing anyone,” you inform her with a polite smile. Sigewinne nods happily at your answer, which makes your smile waver.

Is she happy you’re single?? Ouch.

“Okay, good,” she says. “I’d feel a little bad, otherwise.”

You blink in confusion at her words, watching her as she pops off her chair and heads towards the door. Wriothesley raises an eyebrow at her.

There’s sweat beading on his brow.

“Where are you going?”

“Away,” she responds. “To give you two some privacy.”

You and Wriothesley glance at each other, mirroring each other’s confusion.

Your tummy starts to ache.

“Why are you leaving us alone, exactly?”

Stopping just in front of the office doors, Sigewinne turns on her heel to face the two of you. There’s a smug grin on her face. 

“This is what happens when you don’t follow doctor’s orders.”

You frown, raising a hand to your chest, wondering why your heart is suddenly racing. 

What’s this about doctor’s orders?

You glance over at Wriothesley…only to see that he’s frozen in shock—his eyes wide with realization.

His pants feel too tight.

“Sigewinne, you did not—”

There’s an edge to his voice when he speaks, his eyes narrowing. He plants his feet on the floor and prepares to stand and confront her, but before he can blink, Sigewinne has drawn her pistol—a tranquilizing bullet hitting him square in the chest, where a little patch of skin is showing. 

He makes a noise of surprise, and quickly flops back into his chair to avoid falling on the floor—his limbs immediately going numb.

“Sigewinne!” you gasp. You’re not sure what’s going on, but the fact that she’d just shot Wriothesley is…

“It’s okay,” she says with a little sigh. “The effect will wear off in a few minutes. And…I’m sorry I scared you. Let me explain…”

She holsters her gun and smiles at you, trying to calm you down.

“As the nurse of the Fortress of Meropide, it is my duty to look after all residents, including Your Grace. And over the last few months, I’ve noticed him becoming more… irritable.”

“Sigewinne…,” Wriothesley mumbles, but the girl waves him off.

“After observing him for a while, I realized that his stress levels were getting high. And as his doctor, I recommended him a way to manage his stress, but he refused. He insisted tea was enough to soothe his nerves, but that’s simply not true. So…when you started working here, and I saw how well the two of you were getting along, I…got an idea.”

Sigewinne glances over at Wriothesley, noticing how he’s begun to shift his boots against the floor. 

Her tranquilizers won’t be in effect much longer. They never work as well on people Wriothesley’s size…

So, she decides to cut to the chase.

Reaching into her pocket, Sigewinne pulls out the DO NOT DISTURB sign you’d seen her making the other day. She holds it in front of her, and beams at you.

“Simply put, the Duke needs to have sexual intercourse to relieve his tension. After watching the two of you and seeing you interact on both physical and intellectual levels, I determined that you would be ideal partners for each other. So, I invited the both of you to partake in an aphrodisiac made from the herbs you gathered for me.”

“You…you drugged us?” you gape, completely thrown by everything she’s just told you. She immediately gets defensive, her cheeks puffing.

“I medicated you,” she corrects. “And in the end, I’m only acting as a doctor. This all could have been avoided if Your Grace had just taken care of his own needs, as I’d insisted. Since he didn’t, I could only logically assume it's because it’s his preference to have a partner, rather than going at it solo. So, if you want to blame anyone for this, please blame him.”

“Sigewinne—” 

Gripping the arms of his chair, Wriothesley breathes out a heavy sigh and begins to push himself up. You can’t help but notice his face is much redder now, and you’re not sure if it’s from embarrassment, the effects of the drugs, or both.

Seeing that Wriothesley has nearly regained his strength, Sigewinne hurries to exit his office.

“Anyway! The effects of the tea should wear off in a few hours, but only if you relieve yourselves. Otherwise, it will last much longer. So I suggest you let loose and indulge yourselves. You like each other! Enjoy this time!”

Wriothesley opens his mouth to say something, but his words catch in his throat the second Sigewinne opens his office door. He doesn’t want anyone outside of his office walls to hear him or know what’s going on.

“I’ll hang this sign on the door,” Sigewinne continues, her voice hushing. “So no one comes in while you two are…busy. Just remove it once you’re done, okay? Have fun!”

With a supportive little fist pump, Sigewinne then closes the door, leaving you and Wriothesley alone.

A few long beats of silence pass, then Wriothesley finally sighs.

"I…apologize for this. I never meant for you to get roped in."

You turn to look at him, only to find that he's standing with his back to you, his hand raising to rub at the back of his head.

You can see his muscles flexing as he does so, and you hate to admit that it causes the heat inside you to grow.

"It's…not your fault," you respond, laughing a little awkwardly. "I doubt it's easy to follow directions when your doctor tells you to jack off to rectify your hardass-ness."

Wriothesley glances at you over his shoulder.

"Have I been acting like a hardass?"

"You've been a little snippy at times," you tell him, smoothing your sweaty palms down your legs. Seriously, your clothes are starting to make you feel claustrophobic…

"Not to me, specifically. But I've noticed it towards some of the prison residents."

"Shit," he sighs, rubbing his temples. You continue to watch him, your eyes wandering the expanse of his back. For a second, you don't understand why he won't face you. Then it clicks.

"...are you…hard? Is that why you're not turning around?"

"It's…pretty bad," Wriothesley admits, his shoulder sagging in defeat. "I don't know what all was in that tea but…as an aphrodisiac, it's doing its job."

"Yeah…," you agree, swallowing heavily. You can feel wet arousal pooling on the fabric of your panties. His office has also started to feel like a sauna, but you're not sure if it's the air that's hot, or your body.

However, you're still not willing to breach the topic of "relief" with him. You haven't reached that level of desperation…yet .

So, you think of something else to carry the conversation in the meantime.

"So…Sigewinne said you like me?"

"Ah, you caught that."

He laughs a little, and begins pacing around the room, still careful to keep his back to you. You can't help but notice his stride is a little…impeded.

"If I'm being frank—yes, I do. You've been…a pleasure to have around, since I hired you. Actually, one of the reasons I picked you in the first place was because of how you acted during your interview. Most people are scared of me and therefore talk cautiously. You're certainly respectful, of course, but…you're a bit playful, as well. And I found that quality to be attractive."

"Ah, so I charmed you," you respond playfully. "Remind me to add that point to my resume later. "Managed to woo the Lord of the Fortress of Meropide". That sounds pretty good—"

"And there you go again," Wriothesley laughs. He steps behind the chair he'd been sitting in previously, and then finally turns to face you—the back of the chair tall enough that his lower half is out of sight. 

"Although, if I recall her words correctly, Sigewinne stated that we "like each other". So, is there something you'd like to say as well?"

Your eyes go wide, and you feel more blood rush into your head. Wriothesley smiles, wide enough to show teeth. 

"C’mon now. It's not fair that I praise you and get nothing in return."

You pout.

"To be fair, I didn't know why Sigewinne suddenly asked me what I thought of you…"

"That’s understandable, but still. I'd like to know what you told her."

Wriothesley maintains his playful demeanor, despite the way his knuckles begin to turn white at his sides—a deep-seated need slowly sinking its claws into him.

You sigh.

"I just…told her that you're a good boss, and are deserving of your titles and the respect you garner…"

You trail off, suddenly remembering the last thing you'd told Sigewinne during that conversation. Wriothesley clearly notices there's something you're leaving out, one of his eyebrows raising.

"And?"

You take a deep breath.

"That you're a cute puppy."

He blinks in shock.

"...excuse me?"

Oh god, you wanna phase through the floor.

"I said that even though you look scary, you're really just like a big…cute…puppy."

For a moment, Wriothesley can only stare at you. Then, he throws his head back and laughs. 

Embarrassed, you plant your palms on your thighs and push to your feet, instinctively wanting to run away…only to realize that your legs have gone weak. 

With a distraught noise, you flop back into your chair. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Wriothesley notices.

He coughs, pulling himself back together.

"Well, I've certainly never heard myself described in such a way before. I can't say I totally hate it, but I'm not sure if I agree with the term "puppy"."

You force an awkward laugh, finally losing steam as the arousal inside you begins to cloud your thoughts. Sigewinne obviously wasn't messing around when making her aphrodisiac…you've never felt so horny before that it has literally hindered your mental and physical faculties.

The office is silent for a few tense moments, but finally, Wriothesley heaves a heavy sigh. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his shoulders slumping as he hangs his head.

"You may revoke your good opinion of me, considering how inappropriate it is for a boss to even consider such a thing, but…I think my dick is gonna explode soon, so I'll just come out and ask."

You swallow, anticipating his next words.

"Would you be…interested in having sex?"

Your body shivers in excitement at the idea, the lustful part of your brain screaming at you to jump him already.

"I…would," you admit, managing to keep it together. Wriothesley's entire body jolts impatiently at your words, but he’s able to keep himself grounded. 

"I don't think I'll be able to survive…this without some relief. And…I trust you. So…"

"So we're in agreement," Wrioslethely supplies, waiting for your confirmation. You nod your head. 

"We are."

In the next beat, he's is crossing the space between you, a "thank god" barely making it past his lips before he crashes them into yours.

Immediately, you’re groaning into him—your arms wrapping around his neck and his hands finding the backs of your thighs. He lifts you from your chair easily—your chests pressing together as he holds you close.

You’ve always been acutely aware of how large Wriothesley is, but you don’t think it fully sinks in until now—as he manhandles you with ease, quite literally carrying you with one arm as the other sneaks beneath your shirt and tugs it over your head.

You’re forced to break the kiss as he does so, but the second the fabric has been discarded, you’re tangling your fingers in his hair and dragging him in for another. 

Your action evokes a pleased little rumble inside his chest.

“You taste sweet,” he mumbles, his palm roaming over the exposed skin of your back. The warmth of his skin against yours makes you ache.

“It’s probably the aphrodisiac,” you reply breathlessly, a shiver raking your spine when you feel his fingers toy at the waistband of your pants.

“Hmm, shall we posit your theory?”

Before you can even think to ask what he means, the room is spinning—too many things happening at once. However, it’s nearly impossible to miss the feel of your pants being shucked down your legs.

When everything settles, you find that you’re no longer chest to chest with Wriothesley, but rather, face to dick.

“Wh—”

Your cheeks heat up as you finally digest the position he’s put you in—your ass in his face, and his crotch in yours—his body now firmly planted in a chair as he spreads his thighs and makes himself comfortable.

“Wriothesley!” you say in shock, your palms gripping his legs for support as you attempt to turn and face him. However, you quickly realize with the position he has chosen, you’re fairly helpless to do anything—completely at his mercy as he locks his arms around your legs and grips your ass in his hands.

“Hm?” he responds nonchalantly, one of his fingers slipping under the edge of your panties. You shift a little, trying to glare at him, but only succeed in having his clothed dick poke you in the cheek. He tenses at the sensation, and you feel his cock strain helplessly against the fabric of his pants—begging for more friction.

“I’m just testing your theory, like I said,” he continues, a surprised mewl tearing from your throat as he leans his head forward and nuzzles his nose in the damp fabric of your panties.

“If you think it’s the aphrodisiac making you sweet, let’s see if it’s also having that effect elsewhere—”

Before you can protest, Wriothesley is tugging the crotch of your underwear aside—his tongue licking a hot, languid strip between your folds. You gasp at the feeling, your nails digging into his thighs through the layer of clothes that he wears.

Above you, the Duke makes a pleased sound, repeating his previous action—noting the way your body writhes against his hold. His fingers grip your ass tighter, his brows furrowing as he presses his tongue inside your entrance—your arousal quickly coating his taste buds.

“Yep,” he mutters after a moment, his voice tight and his throat bobbing as he harshly swallows. “You taste…addicting.”

His words have your cunt squeezing around nothing, although he quickly dives back in and rectifies that problem—stretching your walls out around his tongue. 

“Fuck…,” you pant, your head dropping as your strength wanes. Your muscles progressively start to feel like jelly, thanks to his ministrations. Especially, when he moves his mouth to your clit and begins rolling his tongue around it—a whine escaping you as the desire inside of you sears white hot.

And yet, despite the way Wriothesley presses on—groaning into your pussy as he eats you out—you’d be remiss to forget about the fact that he’s currently affected by the aphrodisiac as well, and has his own needs that need to be taken care of.

So, gathering what strength you have, you manage to push yourself up onto your forearms—your hands moving to the waistband of his pants. You frantically work open the button and zipper of his slacks, and then hook your fingers under the elastic of his underwear, tugging the band down.

…only to have his freed cock immediately spring up and smack you in the face.

Your eyes go wide, and in normal circumstances, you’d expect Wriothesley to laugh at the comedy of what has just occurred. However, too immersed in the way your cunt tastes and feels, and the way your body continues to twitch in his hold, he doesn’t even notice. And, too amazed by the sheer size of Wriothesley’s dick as you finally lean your head back and get a good look at him, you don’t bother saying anything.

No, instead you simply part your lips and take the head of his cock into your mouth—sucking lightly, your tongue teasing at his slit. The groan that’s immediately torn from his throat is involuntary—the sound becoming muffled by your pussy as he momentarily stops to savor the feeling of your mouth on his dick—your tongue flattening on the underside of his shaft as you slowly take more of him into your mouth.

Then, he goes back to eating you out with renewed fervor—your eyes nearly rolling back into your skull when he sucks at your clit.

The room quickly fills with the sound of sloppy and messy oral, your head bobbing up and down Wriothesley’s cock. Saliva drips down his length, his pre-cum smearing against your tongue, and you can’t help but moan.

Everything feels so good—from Wriothesley’s tongue on your cunt, to the way his cock fills up your mouth…

“Fuck,” Wriothesley growls. His fingers move to pull at the folds of your pussy, spreading you open wider. You can feel his hot breath on your skin as he moves his mouth back to your clit, where he then stays—his tongue flicking rhythmically against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

The pace and motion he settles on is one that you know will very quickly damn you, and he figures this out as well based on the way your thighs begin to shake in his grasp. Your body attempts to jolt away from him—trying to escape the onslaught of pleasure he intends to give—but he leaves no wiggle room. He holds you tighter, enjoying the feeling of your mouth on his cock, and how your efforts slowly start to crumble along with your sanity.

“I…,” you mumble the word around dick, trying to warn him of the orgasm you can feel quickly approaching. Your entire body swims with arousal, your head feeling light. 

“Keep going, sweetheart,” he pants. “Let’s cum together.”

You feel his cock throb against your tongue, and, dutifully, you do your best to continue sucking him off—your lips once again suctioning around his shaft. Your actions immediately evoke a pleased groan from the Duke, and you feel his thighs tense in your grasp—his own orgasm quickly approaching.

However, despite your best efforts to continue, everything falls apart the second your climax finally crests.

With a cry, you come undone—your body writhing in his hold. You go brainless almost immediately, the strength in your arms wavering, and Wriothesley’s cock stuffing into your cheek—your hot breath fanning over his length.

Luckily, the vulgarity of the entire situation is enough to push Wriothesley over the finish line—his dick painting the inside of your mouth with his cum. And to his surprise, once he’s spent, you actually pull your head back, close your lips, and swallow.

Shit, he thinks. 

His dick is just starting to soften, and yet somehow, it’s also already getting hard again.

There’s a few beats of quiet that are filled only with the sound of you and Wriothesley panting. Then, once he’s caught his breath, he says—

“Let’s get you right side up.”

—and the world spins again.

Honestly, the fact that he can manhandle you this easily is criminal.

“You okay?” he asks, sitting you on one of his thighs. He brushes a few stray hairs from your face, staring at you with a hint of concern.

You nod your head, grateful that the carnal desire you’ve been afflicted with is clearly less, now that you and Wriothesley have both gotten off. But…even despite that, you still feel hot and tingly. Like you want more.

You glance down at his lap.

“Mmm. Seems like you’re in the same predicament as me.”

“Think you can handle another round?” he asks. You meet his eyes, playfully raising your eyebrows.

“I’m almost tempted to say no, and see what you do.”

Wriothesley rolls his eyes, his hands grabbing your waist, and in the next moment, you find yourself slung over his shoulder.

“Hey—!” you protest, attempting to look at him, but he only caresses your ass with his free hand.

“If you have that much spunk left in you, you can handle another round,” he says, carrying you down the nearby staircase, to the floor below his office. “But, I’ll be kind this time and make you more comfortable.”

His boots echo against the metal floor as he walks, and for a second, you wonder where exactly he’s taking you. But, soon after, Wriothesley pushes through a nearby door, and you find yourself in a moderately sized bedroom.

It must be his, you realize, feeling a little silly that you’d never pondered before now where the Master of the prison actually sleeps.

“Here we are.”

Wriothesley gently deposits you onto his bed, and then immediately reaches for his tie. You watch him with bated breath, your heart doing a tiny flip as you realize that he’s finally stripping out of his clothes. He opts to leave on the leather belts encircling his arms and neck, instead focusing the bulk of his time on shedding his suit, and undoing the many buckles on his boots. 

By the time he’s finished—his erect cock once again sitting heavy between his legs—you’re practically drooling at the sight of him.

His lips twitch into a little smile.

“I’m happy to know that you like what you see. However, in the time I spent undressing myself, you couldn’t be bothered to remove what little clothing you have left? C’mon now, are you waiting for me to wrestle you out of them?”

Still feeling cheeky, you flash him a grin.

“Hm, I’d like to see you try.”

Wriothesley immediately cocks an eyebrow, his eyes glinting at the challenge you’ve just issued, and your attitude wavers, realizing what it is you’ve done. You open your mouth to say you’re only teasing—your hands already raising behind your back to undo the clasp of your bra—but it’s too late.

In one swift motion, Wriothesley grabs your ankle and twists you onto your stomach—his weight settling above you as he kneels onto the bed. You shiver when his knuckles brush against your skin—his fingers swiftly undoing your bra.

“You’re just a little brat, aren’t you…” 

He speaks the words fondly, with a hint of amusement, and yet, they still go straight to your cunt. 

“Don’t say things like that,” you respond, instinctively raising your hips when Wriothesley hooks his fingers on your underwear and begins tugging them down your thighs. He stares intently at your backside as he does so, an idea popping into his mind.

“Why? Because you like it too much?”

He discards your panties on the floor along with the rest of the clothes you’d both shed, and then grabs your knees, forcing you to spread your legs, so he can properly settle between them. 

Another blush rises on your face at his words, your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. At your lack of response, Wriothesely continues.

“In my understanding, brats tend to like it a little rougher, so…” 

His hands ghost up your thighs, to your hips, and he grips you tightly—forcing your lower half off the bed until you’re propped up on your knees—his cock sitting heavy against your ass.

“...what say we continue like this, hm?”

Bracing yourself on your forearms, you turn your head back to look at him—your body tensing as you watch him fist his cock and drag it downward, between the lips of your pussy. 

His icy eyes catch yours.

“Any objection?”

“...no,” you mumble, your fingers anticipatedly fisting in the sheets. 

Wriothesley nods—

“Good.”

—and then presses the head of his cock inside you.

Immediately, you drop your forehead against the mattress—willing your body to relax for him as he slowly inches inside of you.

His tongue had certainly been enjoyable, but this? Fuck. Nothing compares to the sensation of him slowly stuffing you inch by inch—the girth of his cock positively delicious as he forces your cunt to stretch to accommodate him.

It’s so much that by the time he’s fully seated inside of you, your body is shaking—your breath coming out in quick, desperately little pants.

Seeing your reaction, Wriothesely soothes a hand up your spine, his warm palm settling between your shoulder blades. He decides to start slow—to give you a little more time to adjust to him. 

And honestly, he’d love to take his time in general—to really savor the sight of you beneath him, your cunt swallowing his cock so perfectly, but alas. The effects of the aphrodisiac make him impatient with need, and it’s not long before he’s moving faster—little gasps and whines finding their way past your lips as he begins fucking you back onto his cock.

“Ahh…seriously you’re…so fucking tight,” he curses. His fingers dig into the plush of your hip—his jaw clenching, and his racing heart pumping lust through his veins.

Your cunt clamping on his dick seriously might be his personal slice of heaven.

“Wrio, I—,” you can’t even get the words out, your brain short-circuiting. You can’t think straight anymore—not with his cock rubbing you in all the right spots, making a mess of your insides, and quickly rocketing you towards another—

Wait, no, it’s only been a minute—!

“Fuck! ” 

You choke the word out, your spine curving and your knuckles turning white as your second orgasm of the night is unexpectedly forced out of you—your pussy spasming around Wriothesley’s dick.

The last of your strength officially drained, you collapse forward onto the mattress, your cheek smushing into the covers.

…however, Wriothesley doesn’t allow your lower half to fall along with the rest of you—his hold on your hips keeping your twitching pussy firmly planted on his still-hard dick.

“We’re not done yet, sweetheart,” he reminds you, his cock continuing to languidly drag between your walls, drawing out the tail end of your pleasure.

You can’t help but whimper at his words, already feeling a bit oversensitive thanks to two consecutive orgasms. Wriothesley does his best to soothe your frayed nerves.

Leaning over you, he gently tangles his fist in your hair—coaxing your head off the mattress so he can kiss you. 

The kiss is messy, but sweet—the angle of your bodies forcing his cock deeper inside of you, his hips completely flush against your ass.

“You’re doing so good,” he tells you, peppering a trail of kisses against your cheek, and across your jaw. His praise causes you to whimper, a shiver raking up your spine when his tongue drags across your skin—his teeth nipping at the nape of your neck.

His actions successfully get you to relax—your body becoming more pliable in his grasp as he once again begins to move. And soon enough, the wet sound of sex fills his bedroom once more.

Wanting to help him cum (and to feel his seed fill you), you do your best to help Wriothesley along—purposefully flexing the walls of your pussy as he fucks you. However, in doing so, you accidentally start yourself down the path of yet another orgasm…

Feeling the familiar, aching pleasure beginning to build inside of you once again, you quickly stop what you’re doing. You think that a third orgasm honestly might kill you, but…it’s too late.

Wriothesley has already noticed your growing arousal, and decides that he likes it better when the two of you cum together.

So, he sneaks one of his hands between the apex of your legs, and begins rubbing at your clit.

The garbled, desperate cry that leaves your mouth immediately becomes seared in his mind for a long time to come.

“No, Wrio, I…I can’t. I—”

Your words come out jumbled, tears beading on your lash line.

Momentarily removing his hand from your clit, he once again reaches forward and grips your hair—pulling your head back so he can kiss you. His lips swallow up your worries.

“You can,” he insists, his voice whispering in your ear, and his hot breath fanning over your skin. 

“I want you to cum with me, pretty girl. You can do it.”

You give no protest aside from a cute little whine, and that's good enough for Wriothesley.

Releasing your hair, his hand finds your clit once more.

He then proceeds to fuck you into the mattress—pursuing his orgasm with abandon. A groan leaves his mouth at the way your pussy starts clamping on his dick once again—tightening up with each pass of his fingers across your clit—your pussy slick and messy with your own arousal.

Unable to think straight, you can only hold on for dear life—clinging to his sheets like a lifeline. You can’t even process the sounds that are coming out of your own mouth—a damned, desperate symphony moans.

To Wriothesley, it all sounds like a siren's cry—beckoning him closer to the edge.

“Shit,” he pants, feeling his cock throb, and his balls tighten. The motion of his fingers on your clit quickens—your toes curling as the coil of pleasure in your tummy continues to wind—so close to snapping.

Sweat beading on his brow, Wriothesley leans forward, curling his body against yours. His teeth nip at the shell of your ear, his husky voice sending goosebumps across your skin.

“So good for me…,” he breathes, his hips smacking into your ass. His broad strokes deteriorate into needy rutting, and the sensation has you quite literally sobbing—his cock now incessantly grinding into your g-spot.

You can’t take it anymore.

Shoving your face into the mattress, you bite the sheets and scream—your entire body shaking as you cum for a third time, your cunt milking around Wriothesley’s cock.

He curses at the feeling, his face burying in your neck. Wrapping his arms around you, he hugs you to his body—fucking inside of you a few more times before finally joining you in ecstasy. 

His teeth sink into you as his orgasms peaks, a heady groan muffled against your skin as his balls empty—pumping you full of his cum.

It’s not until the intensity of his pleasure has died down that Wriothesley ultimately releases you from his hold—your lower half immediately flopping down onto the bed, and his softening cock slipping out of you.

The Duke takes a moment to simply look at you, and how fucked out you are. Your eyes bleary, skin flushed, and the imprint of his teeth engraved in your flesh.

He grunts at the sight, and settles in beside you—his arm curling around your waist as he tugs you back against him. His tongue immediately begins lapping at the bite mark he’d inflicted, attempting to soothe the sting.

After a few seconds, you begin shaking, and Wriothesley immediately pauses, scared that he’s hurt you in some way.

…only to realize that you’re laughing.

“...puppy…”

He props himself up, glancing at you.

“What?”

“You really are like a puppy,” you giggle, your finger lifting to brush a stray tear from your eye. “The way you bit me, and then immediately started licking at it in apology. So cute…”

You break into another tiny fit of laughter, and Wriothesley rolls his eyes, yet can’t help cracking a smile.

“Well, I’m glad to know I didn’t break you, at the very least.”

His hand rubs against your waist.

“...right?”

Finally getting ahold of yourself, you roll onto your back and smile at him, your hand reaching out to cup his cheek. He immediately leans into your touch, and it makes your heart flutter.

“I’m not broken, no. Just…sore. And gross. And sweaty.”

Wriothesley chuckles.

“Well, I think I can rectify some of those issues. I do have a bathroom, with a tub.”

“Wow,” you respond, watching him as he scoots to the edge of the mattress and gets to his feet. He waits a second for you to join him, but you don’t move.

“My…limbs feel like jello,” you admit, raising your arm and flopping it back down bonelessly for emphasis. Wriothesley rolls his eyes, but nonetheless leans over the bed and scoops you into his arms.

You rest your cheek against his chest, admiring for the first time how soft it really is.

“Whatever shall I do with you,” he playfully sighs, carrying you into the adjacent bathroom. He sets you on the vanity, moving over to the tub and turning on the tap for the hot water. You hum.

“Mmm, I can think of a few things you can do. The first of which is helping me into the bath once it’s ready.”

Wriothesley quietly chuckles. Returning to your side, he takes your hand, and brings it to his lips.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Once the tub has filled, the Duke keeps true to his word—once again carefully cradling you in his arms as he seats himself in the tub basin, before positioning you in the space between his legs.

The steaming water immediately soothes the ache of your body, and you sigh in relief—sinking back against Wriothesley’s body. He lightly wraps one arm around your waist, the other resting on the edge of the tub.

For a few long minutes, the two of you bask in silence, simply enjoying the refreshing feel of the bath. 

…then, you start to notice something beginning to grow—pressing at your back.

“...really? Is the aphrodisiac still getting to you that much?”

“No,” he admits after a beat, leaning forward to kiss your neck. “I think this one is actually all me.”

You roll your eyes, but nonetheless crane your head to the side—allowing him access to more of your skin as his mouth begins to wander.

“I thought I made it clear that my limbs are jello right now.”

“I can work with that,” he responds, and you feel him grin. His hand slowly trails down your stomach, and between your legs.

“I’ll do all the work. You just get to make pretty sounds and feel good.”

His fingers slide between the folds of your pussy, and you jolt as he passes over your overly-sensitive clit. But seriously…how are you going to say no to him?

“What am I going to do with you?” you sigh, echoing his earlier words. His chest rumbles with laughter, and he grabs your chin with his free hand—turning your head so he can kiss you.

“Mmm, I can think of a few things.”

The next morning, you find yourself in a back in your clothes, standing beside Wriothesley just inside his office door.

“I’ll go first,” you say, to which he nods. “I have some errands to run anyway. You can wait a minute and then come out after me.”

“Sounds good.”

The two of you stare at each other for a second, before you finally square your shoulders, and reach for the door handle. 

Before you can twist it, Wriothesley catches your wrist. When you look back at him, you find that there’s a blush on his cheeks.

“So, I’ll…see you later?”

His suddenly bashful demeanor causes you to smile. Pressing onto your toes, you cup his cheeks and softly kiss him. He immediately grabs your waist—deepening the kiss.

“You’ll see me later,” you promise. 

With that, the two of you finally separate, and you disappear through his office door.

Wriothesley takes a deep breath at your departure, combing a hand through his hair as he waits for the right moment to make his own exit.

To be safe, he decides to wait a good few minutes. But finally, he opens his door—preparing to venture into the main area of the fortress, and make his normal rounds.

…however, he only makes it a step before remembering the sign Sigewinne had made.

With a sigh, he immediately backtracks and tears the DO NOT DISTURB sign off of his door, crumpling it between his palms.

When he turns back around, he nearly jumps—Sigewinne standing right in front of him.

“So,” she says, a pleased grin on her face. “How’d it go?”

Narrowing his eyes, Wriothesley only stares ahead, and walks past her. She easily follows after him.

“The fact that you’re out and about this early in the day means something likely happened between you and Y/N.”

“No comment,” Wriothesley responds, which makes Sigewinne giggle. They pass by a few prisoners as Wriothesley makes a B-line for the elevator to the production zone. Once there, Sigewinne squeezes herself in along with him.

As the elevator begins to descend, only a few seconds pass in silence, before Sigewinne asks one last question.

“As your doctor, it’s my recommendation that you continue to regularly relieve your stress. So, are you going to be dutifully carrying out my orders from now on?”

Wriothesley makes a little face, glancing away from her.

“...maybe.”

Sigewinne smiles. 

That’s good enough for her.

[A Dragon's Constitution] ->

[pearlymel]

Sylus remembers clearly the day he found out you were both having twins. Twins, as in two babies as yours and his first children.

How you almost passed out when the doctor delivered the news, but he was quick to tell you that everything would be okay.

He's going to be the best husband for you, and for the twins..?

they sure were going to be a handful.

“Sylus!” Sylus' head snapped towards the kitchen, where your voice had come from, “come get your son before i cook him!”

He knew that you were joking. Probably.

the kitchen, one hand holding his little girl's hand guiding her along. "Now, now," he called out as he entered the kitchen, "No cooking the children, sweetie.”

You let out a sigh when you watch the boy run away while letting out giggles, his face and hands full of white flour.

Seeing this, Sylus let out an exasperated sigh as well, his gaze shifting from his running figure to the mess of flour on the floor. "Sorry about the mess he made," he muttered before looking over at you, a sheepish smile on his face. "Go to your brother,” he urges the girl next to him, she nods slowly before running off to him.

“I'll feed him to the ducks one day.” You say with determination, still focused on trying to make this dinner a success after the mess.

But Sylus chuckled at your threat, knowing all too well that you were only half-serious. He could see the twitching in your eyes, but he also knew that you loved both of your children dearly, even if they could be a handful sometimes.

”Though I suspect he would probably find a way to befriend them and make a mess with them.”

“.. why are you right?”

“because i know my children,” he says proudly, then makes slow steps from behind you to not alert you so suddenly, his arms snaking around your waste with his chin resting on your shoulder, “what are you making?”

You smile, “dinner.”

"Smartass," he teased, "I meant what kind of dinner are you making?” he whispers calmly, a soft conversation between you two, with his thumb rubbing ideally on you.

“hm, i could be dinner… but oh well.” you sigh dramatically and he laughs quietly.

You couldn't even continue because you hear a faint “ewwww.” Coming from the corner.

You both glance back at the two heads peeking out from the wall, and you roll your eyes.

"and here I was, having a moment with your mother," he said to them, his voice still low yet amused. "You two really have a knack for interrupting, don't you?”

Your little girl was the first to speak, “it was his idea.” She started quietly, her fingers fidgeting together, but her brother only gasped, “she's lying!”

"Oh, really now?" he’s skeptical, and he approaches both of them with his arms crossed, “Hmm, it's always the innocent ones who lie, isn't it?”

“but I'm not—”

“liar.” The little one huffs and looks away with annoyance, but the minute he could hear his sister im the verge of tears, he knew he messed up.

Sylus was quick to notice her distraught demeanor, his heart clenching slightly at the sight of her on the verge of tears.

"you," Sylus pointed out at the other twin, his voice firmer and authoritative, "did you cause the mess?”

…

Sylus let out a deep sigh, his stern expression softening slightly. He knew he was just being a mischievous little boy, but he also had to nip such behavior in the bud.

"You know better than to blame others for your pranks,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. "Apologize to your sister.”

The girl sniffled, the threat of tears subsiding as she accepted her brother's apology. She wiped away her stray tears with the back of her hand, a small smile forming on her face.

Sylus nodded approvingly, he patted both of them on their head gently. "There we go, now go back and play together.”

This whole time you were watching the scene with the biggest smile on your face, and Sylus was already prepared for your upcoming teasing words.

“and the father of the year goes to.. you.” ... except he didn't expect this rare sweet statement of yours. He's reminded of why he put a ring on it in the beginning.

"What can I say?" he replied, his voice filled with pride. "I have a talent for handling troublemakers." He placed both of his arms on the counter to your sides, boxing you in, "though, to be fair, they get their mischievous streaks from their mother," he added, and you gasp before turning around. burnt dinner it is.

[justcat-judging]

₊ ⊹ 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞 𝐎𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞! ⊹ ₊

˚ʚY/N told them her ideal type which was the complete opposite of them. ɞ˚

˚ʚKaiser Micheal x Reader, Ness Alexis x Reader(seperate)ɞ˚

˚ʚpt.5, pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4ɞ˚

---

₊ ⊹ 𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥 ⊹ ₊

You and Kaiser are hanging out after practice, his usual self-absorbed chatter filling the air while you scroll through your phone.

“So, what’s your type?” he asks, that smug grin creeping across his face.

You glance up, pretending to think. “Hmm… I like guys who are quiet, humble, and down-to-earth. Maybe a little shy. Definitely not someone who’s always showing off.”

Kaiser freezes. His smirk falters for just a moment before he leans in, eyes narrowing. “You’re really gonna sit here and tell me that’s your type?”

You nod, keeping a straight face. “Yeah, I think it’s cute. Totally my type.”

Kaiser lets out a low, incredulous chuckle. “That’s funny. You’ve been hanging out with me for weeks now, and I’m anything but humble. You’re full of shit.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What can I say? I like a challenge.”

He laughs, loud and confident. “A challenge? Babe, you don’t have to look any further. I’m exactly what you want. I’m the best, and you know it.”

You roll your eyes, trying to keep the grin from spreading. “Sure, whatever you say, Kaiser.”

His smile widens, fully aware of what he’s doing. “Admit it. You’re hooked on me. I’m exactly your type—you just don’t want to say it yet. But I’m already in your head.”

You snicker, finally giving in. “Fine. You’re right. Michael Kaiser is my type.”

He leans back, arms crossed, looking utterly victorious. “I knew it. You don’t need to hide it. No one can resist me.”

₊ ⊹ 𝐍𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬 ⊹ ₊

You and Ness are sitting on the benches after practice, him leaning a little too close as usual. His eyes are practically glued to you, that dreamy smile never wavering.

“So… what’s your type?” he asks, tilting his head like a puppy waiting for praise.

You pretend to think, tapping your chin. “Hmm… I guess I like guys who are really serious, kind of intimidating. The quiet, brooding type who doesn’t let anyone get too close.”

For a moment, Ness just stares at you, blinking. Then, to your surprise, his cheeks turn red, and a tiny, breathy laugh escapes him.

“Oh,” he mutters, almost giddy. “So… someone who would completely ignore you? Push you away? Maybe even be a little mean?”

You narrow your eyes. “Uh… yeah?”

His smile widens. “That sounds kinda nice.”

You blink. “What.”

Ness sighs, pressing a hand to his chest dramatically. “Imagine… the person you love looking down on you, refusing to acknowledge you, barely giving you the time of day… ahh, my heart aches just thinking about it.”

You gape at him. “Ness. That’s not—”

He suddenly grabs your hand, squeezing it tight. “But I love a challenge! If that’s what you want, I’ll just have to make you fall for me harder!”

You groan, finally laughing. “Ness, I was messing with you! That’s not my type at all!”

He blinks. “Oh?” Then, without missing a beat, he leans in closer, voice dropping. “So… does that mean you do like me?”

You roll your eyes. “Maybe I’d like you more if you weren’t so weird.”

Ness only grins, unbothered. “Ohh, so you do like me a little! That’s enough for me!”

You sigh, shaking your head. There’s no winning against this guy.

(Guys I think this is enough to feed you all.. I think I shall end this already)

[kirbmey]

— s1!jayvik headcanons (＞×＜)

synopsis: viktor and jayce need the help of a new investor to keep up with their research and fall in love with his daughter <3

tw: suggestive, reader is an spoiled brat, established!jayvik, not canon obv, jayce’s lowk pathetic, reader calls her father “daddy”, viktor takes the lead, choking mention if u squint, etc.

s1!jayvik who, with sky’s help, managed to find an aristocrat in piltover who was willing to meet with them and talk about hextech.

s1!jayvik who attend to your maybe-too-big mansion to discuss terms with your father while having dinner, and you were there too (๑╹ᆺ╹)

s1!jayvik who were known all over topside for being a pair of handsome inventors and curiosity peeked trough you, fixated on meeting them.

s1!jayvik who expected your father and your father alone, jayce shy at your presence and viktor already staging ways to approach you later.

s1!jayvik who, while dinner occurs, don’t fail to notice your cute curls and your lipstick a beautiful shade of crimson, you just playing a fool even though you knew you caught their eye the first second they stepped inside your house.

s1!jayce who’s mesmerized in the way your lips wrap around the fork to take a bite, on how you push your long hair aside while drinking, maybe even how your necklace decorated your throat, thinking his hand would look better (ʃᵕ̩̩ ᵕ̩̩⑅)

s1!jayce who feels the real shame every time he has to excuse himself to your father because he didn’t really paid attention to what he said. such a silly boy :(

s1!viktor who’s a lot better at hiding his lustful gazes, having the investment a priority; after getting the accord, he can worry about how he’ll get under your garments.

s1!viktor who actually listens and actually eats something at the dinner.

s1!viktor who notices deeper details about you, the moles all over your skin, the number of little diamonds your ring had, the way one of your eyebrows was thinner than the other (how your breast almost spilled out of your white dress), you know, deeper details ♡￫ܫ￩♡

“so, I need to make sure my money is sent to smart hands, gentlemen, can you show me anything about this hextech thing?” your dad spoke in a deep voice that echoed the grand dining room, contrasting with the soft violin playing on the background.

“of course! we brought tons of sketches and studies and analysis and—” jayce implied excited, always happy to talk about the project of his life, being interrupted by viktor’s skinny hand on his shoulder while the other one passed a notebook to your father.

“that’s all you’re actually interested in, sir.” he declared with a thick accent, it made you curious to know where it belonged to.

s1!jayce who anxiously plays with viktor’s brace under the table, tracing its shape while shaking his leg, looking adorably concerned.

s1!viktor who caresses the big hand that toyed with the metal around his calf and knee, circling motions over his knuckles to calm his partner down.

your father didn’t seem to really trust the idea brought to the table, the implication of magic clashing with his ideals. therefore you leaned closer to him, head against his shoulder as you read the notebook as well, noticing viktor’s neat handwriting.

“oh, daddy, isn’t this just so so so interesting?” you voiced with a honey sweet tone, locking his arm with your own.

“look, portals to quickly travel between regions? imagine all the money piltover would make, all thanks to you investing in ‘em.” you murmured now, locking eyes with viktor, who was smirking at you subtly, jayce too nervous to even hear what you said (◕︿◕✿)

“hmm, still, darling, magic?” your father questioned with a slight disgust in his voice, putting the papers down and sighing while massaging his mustache.

“wasn’t piltover the city of progress? this really seems like progress to me…” you looked at him with a pout plastered on your juicy lips. “i think leaving old stigmas and taboos behind is really… progressy.”

s1!jayvik who watch you leave towards the gardens after making your father deal with them a crazy amount of money with just some puppy eyes and sultry voice.

s1!jayvik who catch a glimpse of your white nightgown covering the grass of said garden while you sat down, playing around with a stray cat, it almost seemed like you were waiting for them.

s1!jayvik who approach you after viktor insisted, to thank you, and maybe have an intimate conversation with you, too.

“thank you for interfering, my lady, if it wasn’t for you we would’ve left empty handed.” viktor confessed while siting down on the stone bench under the white pergola where you sat, the moonlight highlighting your angel-like features, leaving his cane on top of said surface.

jayce sat down in front of you in the floor with some distance, legs crossed and arms propped behind him, tilting his head to the side when he noticed how you scooted closer to him and blushing to this right after.

“well, it wasn’t charity, you know.” you murmur in a sweet tone, curling your hair around your manicured finger as you stood on your knees, taking support from jayce’s thick thigh to end up facing viktor from above, as if you were worshipping him.

the skinnier man scoffed at this, noticing how your cheek rested now against his inner thigh, how your hair fell down your exposed back as jayce held your hand to take place in the empty space next to you, mimicking how you rested your head to stare at you, viktor caressing his now not so put together hair in a way he seemed to be accustomed already.

“then, what is it that you desire from us in exchange, little angel?” he questioned with that accent that you started to fall in love with, his thin fingers coming down to hold your chin, making you look up to him.

“mmm, i dunno…” you feigned hesitation, reaching jayce’s handsome face to scratch behind his ear slowly, noticing how he didn’t comply, such a puppy. “maybe take me to your laboratory and show me your advances from time to time.” you pouted when you felt his thumb smudge some of your expensive lipstick away.

“wouldn’t want you two forgetting about me.” you confessed before taking said thumb between your lips, looking up to him. jayce took your smaller hand between his, inhaling your cherry scented hand cream before peppering kisses all over it.

“we would never forget about you, bunny.” he said softly against your skin, caressing your cheek while you kept on sucking viktor’s finger, adverting your gaze to him now. “you can come over anytime, maybe we can make you find science more interesting.”

viktor chuckled before emptying your mouth and leaving jayce’s hair be, gaining a whine from both of you. “so it is settled, we’ll see you tomorrow at the academy, correct?” he asked while taking his cane to stand up from where he sat, motioning his hand to order jayce to do the same.

you imitate their actions, tidying your hair before grabbing their holding hands with yours, standing on your tippy toes to leave a noisy smooch against their cheeks, decorating them with the granate of your lips. “you most definitely will, gentlemen.”

s1!jayvik who don’t notice how your father stared at the whole play from the beginning, shaking his head on disappointment at you; always playing around with men.

s1!jayvik who walk towards their ride in silence, jayce still inhaling your lingering scent and the soft of you lips against his cheeks, viktor trying to not think too much about the growing boner you gave him (*_ _)

a/n: i’m obsessed with this setting, part 2 maybe? (*^ω^)

— masterlist.

[chuluoyi]

the birthday boy

- fushiguro megumi x reader

your boyfriend is indifferent towards his own special day, but with you, he actually finds it worth celebrating

genre/warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff with a teeny weeny dash of angst

notes: loosely based on this fanart. pls just give my boi back gege you awful one-eyed cat how could you hold him hostage even on his birthday

listen to: sakura koi by mosawo don't mind me i just get all soft for this poor boy *sigh*

general masterlist

Megumi never really liked birthdays—his own birthdays, specifically.

"Come on, Megumi... just what is it that you want for your present?" you pleaded, pursing your lips together as you faced your boyfriend. "I don't want to give you a surprise only to find out it's not something you'd enjoy!"

However, ever since Gojo went and took him in, ever since he began attending Jujutsu High, and ever since he started dating you, to his chagrin, everyone started making a big fuss over it.

With the straightest face ever, he glanced at you and muttered, "I'm telling you, you can get me whatever."

"That's not an answer!"

"Seriously, you can pick anything. I'm good with anything."

You huffed in exasperation. "You're so unbelievably uncooperative, sheesh."

"On the contrary, I think I'm being quite amiable," he deadpanned. "You don't have to think about it that hard."

In a way, you should've expected this. Your boyfriend was never one who made a big deal over anything, and he probably meant it when he said that he was good with whatever. Your soft boy was just wired that way.

Meanwhile, to Megumi, his birthday was more of a remainder of good old days he spent with his kind sister and Gojo—when times were much more simpler. When Tsumiki was still alive and well. Call him an emo, but he was just feeling bittersweet.

Tsumiki would craft him this makeshift party hat, and Gojo would get him an overly sweet birthday cake with an even more over-the-top frostings. They'd join in singing him happy birthday, and Gojo's singing would be intentionally and especially awful while at it.

But now that he thought back to it, he kind of missed those times.

You threw him a narrowed-eyed look. "Forget it, I half-expected this anyway—" but then, suddenly struck by an idea, you exclaimed, "—oh! Wait, I know!"

Your enthusiastic exclamation caught his attention, and he silently observed as you furiously tapped away on your phone, scouring Google for standard gift ideas for boyfriends.

For the next half-hour, you continuously sought his feedback on each of suggestions. However, Megumi only nodded or agreed with evident disinterest, which didn't really answer your question at all.

“You’re seriously going to be like this, huh?” you sighed, frowning in total indignation, but in your boyfriend’s eyes, you were the height of absolute cuteness.

As you grumbled inwardly about how dull he was, Megumi wore a small smile. Truthfully, if asked, his ideal birthday would revolve around spending time with you. You didn't have to lose your head over this.

Needless to say, you were still trying to make it an event to remember. And Megumi knew, because you were so obvious it was giving him secondhand embarrassment.

"Itadori! I'm telling you—" you were rebuking a sheepish Yuji on broad daylight regarding which color for balloons to be placed in the class on the day of his birthday. Earlier, he saw you and Nobara huddled together, talking about cakes and pastries, then also animatedly discussing with Inumaki, Panda and Maki, pulling out all the stops for a celebration plan without missing a beat.

Megumi could only facepalm at your attempt to maintain secrecy—in which you were failing miserably, almost as if you hadn't really made an effort at all.

"Isn’t it nice, Megumi?" suddenly Gojo slid beside him, with a stupid grin on his face. "Someone who exclusively goes this far for you, hmm?"

"It's embarrassing..."

"Ha! Don't be shy," Gojo barked, leaving him with a friendly pat in the back before stalking away with a snicker, and Megumi wasn't the least bit amused. He was certain that at least, Yuji and Nobara would tease the heck out of him after all was said and done due to your antics.

Even so, he didn't have the heart to stop you, appreciating your well-meaning efforts. He felt somewhat soft too inside, as he didn't expect that there would be someone who cared about this way too much like you did. Just it felt strange—

—because last he remembered, the only person who was hellbent on making his birthday a nice memory was Tsumiki.

. . .

So you were organizing a surprise party for him alongside others. Megumi already knew that, he had anticipated it and frankly, he didn’t actually expect much, but when he actually stepped into the classroom and was greeted with a literal bang, confetti, colorful banners, balloons, and a crowd of well-wishers, he was floored.

“Fushiguro! Happy birthday!”

“Look happier a little, would you?!”

“Look! Look! We got you a cake!”

Yuji and Panda almost hugged him—but before he could, Megumi shoved them away, Nobara handed him a paper bag tied with a pretty bow with a cool smile—believing her gift to be the best, Inumaki gave his hand a shake, and Maki wished him only the best.

All of this was within his expectations. He knows, and yet…

"Hey, Megumi! Smile!" your voice stood out the most, along with your widest smile, beaming and gesturing towards the camera as you were about to take a group picture.

Megumi swore his heart skipped a beat. His pretty, sweet girlfriend. Your affections reached him, and it dampened the hardness that he always carried inside his heart. In that fleeting moment, he felt you were radiant, just like the sun.

Then he turned his gaze and found the person he knew he could never thank enough in this lifetime. Gojo, for the first time in a while, wasn't the clown he made himself to be for his sake. Standing with crossed arms, he quietly watched over him, nodding towards the camera as well with a meaningful smile.

Megumi felt warm, he felt loved, and he wouldn’t admit it, but this might be the best day of his life—surrounded by you and his friends like this. And he actually felt more than just that, but no words could do it justice, because nothing could have ever captured the overwhelming fullness inside his chest.

Tsumiki... You see... I'm doing well, you know?

Later, after all festivities are done, you managed to pull him into a secluded corner of the dorms to give him your one-of-a-kind gift, while fidgeting nervously.

"What is it?" he questioned, gaze squarely fixed on you. "At this point, there's no need for you to be this nervous. Nothing could've surprised me any more than Panda's giant panda earlier."

You laughed, recalling how he nearly got squashed by the life-sized stuffed panda earlier, but then you averted your gaze, feeling your face flush and turning into the cutest shade of pink.

"Well! To be fair, it was because you were so uncooperative when I asked what you wanted for your gift! And since I have gotten you the cake, I figured it'll be fun if you want to play this game..."

You huffed, and Megumi simply blinked in confusion when you handed him five pieces of papers—tickets? He turned them over to find the words "Free Pass" written on each one.

"Sooo you can use each ticket to ask me to do anything! Anything at all, be it me dancing to the worst song you can think of, or whatever!" your cheeks were burning so hard, but your resolute gaze kept him captivated as you continued, "So yeah, you get five free passes to make me do things I wouldn't normally do."

Lips pursed, eyes sparkling, cheeks ablaze. All in all, you were irresistibly adorable that Megumi had this overwhelming urge to scoop you up and put you inside his pocket if he could.

And really, free passes? Did you not consider the numerous exploitable loopholes he could subject you to?

"Okay, here, I want to use my first ticket."

"Huh! Already? What is it?"

He chuckled then, his lips tugging into the warmest of smiles, and you felt your heart soar, seeing that rare carefree expression on him.

"I want to kiss you."

[buttercandy16]

The Landlady

PAIRING(s): Landlady!AgathaHarkness x Tennant!Reader

SUMMARY: New place, new beginning, and strange nights.

WARNING(s): Non-Con, Dub-Con, Stockholm Syndrome, Somnophilia, Manipulation, Breastfeeding Kink, and other Dark Themes

A/N: Just exploring some kinks that I find interesting.

The room was small but cozy, bathed in warm hues from a Persian rug and a few old-fashioned lamps that gave off a golden glow. The walls were lined with bookshelves stuffed to the brim, their spines worn from years of use. It felt inviting, charmingly cluttered, and smelled faintly of lavender and something richer—something earthy and intoxicating.

"This is the space," Agatha said, gesturing toward the spare bedroom as she turned to face you, her smile like a velvet trap. Her dark hair was swept casually over one shoulder, and her blouse clung in all the right ways, accentuating her confidence and an air of playful mystery.

You felt impossibly out of place, standing in her perfectly curated home with your battered suitcase and freshly broken heart. Your ex’s harsh words still echoed in your mind, but you pushed the memories aside, forcing a small smile. “It’s perfect.”

Her smile widened, and she leaned against the doorframe, a spark of amusement in her piercing blue eyes. “Perfect, hmm? High praise. I’ll take it.”

Her flirtation was subtle, but it didn’t escape your notice. Since you’d replied to her ad, she had been effortlessly charming, her wit sharp but never cruel. At first, you’d been nervous about moving in with someone so... magnetic. She was older, sophisticated, confident in a way that left you fumbling for words. But when Agatha leaned into that confidence—throwing in a wink or letting her hand linger on yours during mundane moments—it left your chest tight and your cheeks warm.

You blamed the tiny crush forming in the back of your mind on the turbulence of your breakup. Agatha couldn’t possibly see you that way—her endless flirting was surely harmless.

Wasn’t it?

For the first few weeks, things felt easy. Agatha proved to be an ideal roommate. She shared her carefully prepared meals with you, the kind that were always spiced just right. She kept the kitchen spotless, offered advice when you sheepishly confided about your ex, and filled the silence with laughter when the weight of your heartbreak threatened to pull you under.

The only odd thing, you’d noticed, were the nights.

You began waking up feeling... strange. As if you were buzzing, every nerve in your body unusually sensitive. Your dreams grew more vivid and peculiar, filled with a phantom warmth you couldn’t quite explain. Fingers tracing your skin, soft breaths grazing your neck, whispers you couldn’t make out. And every time you woke, you felt flushed, your heart racing, the sensation too tangible for a mere dream.

At first, you shrugged it off as residual stress. The breakup. The move. It was a lot to process, after all. But then, strange details started to pile up. You’d wake with your blankets slightly askew or your shirt riding up your stomach. Once, you swore you smelled Agatha’s perfume on your pillow—the same lavender and musky hint you could only associate with her.

It was easy to dismiss at first. Coincidence. Sleepwalking. Overthinking.

But the feelings lingered—tingling warmth along your neck, an ache in your chest you couldn’t place, as if you were missing something you didn’t understand.

What you didn’t realize was that your dreams weren’t dreams at all.

Agatha sat perched at your bedside every night, thankful to the drug she slipped in your evening tea, ensuring you stayed in a deep, pliant sleep. Her fingers trailed softly over your cheek as she watched you, her expression caught between tender admiration and raw hunger.

“You’re so sweet when you sleep,” she murmured one night, her voice a low whisper meant only for your unconscious ears. Her hand brushed the strands of hair from your face, and she let herself indulge, pressing her lips to your forehead in a possessive kiss.

Each night, her touches grew bolder. Her fingertips ghosted down your arms, tracing invisible lines along your skin as though she could draw you closer to her even in sleep. Sometimes, she let her hand linger at your waist, feeling the steady rise and fall of your breath as you laid helpless beneath her gaze.

“You don’t even know how much I’ve longed for this,” Agatha whispered another night, her hand curling into a fist briefly before relaxing again. “Every sigh, every smile—it’s all mine now.”

Her lips found your neck one night, brushing the sensitive skin just below your jaw. Her teeth grazed the spot lightly, her body trembling with the restraint it took not to leave a mark—a sign of her claim that only she would know was there.

“I’ll have all of you soon,” she promised, pressing a kiss to your ear. “And when I do, you’ll wonder how you ever lived without me.”

Agatha didn’t just visit you out of obsession—she believed this was her way of grooming you, breaking down your resistance bit by bit. She’d made sure you found her ad, planned every detail of your arrival, and watched with satisfaction as you settled into the life she’d so carefully orchestrated for you.

Her nights of devotion were her reward.

Every brush of her fingers, every whispered promise, was a secret she kept just for the two of you—a bond you weren’t even aware existed.

Unaware of what happened after you closed your eyes each night, you started noticing subtle shifts during the day.

Agatha’s glances lingered longer, her touches more frequent—a brush of her fingers against your wrist as she handed you a mug of tea, the way she smoothed your hair absentmindedly as you passed on the couch. Her presence was overwhelming, intoxicating, but part of you began questioning the growing pull between you two.

You told yourself it was just her confidence, her charm—nothing more. But the strange feelings, the dreams, and her piercing gaze lingered, leaving you flustered, confused, and vulnerable in a way you couldn’t quite name.

You had no idea just how completely Agatha already owned you.

Life with Agatha grew more perplexing as the weeks passed. Your days blurred together in a haze of shared laughter, casual touches that lingered too long, and the peculiar warmth that bubbled beneath the surface every time she looked at you.

Yet, the nights still held the strangest weight.

The dreams persisted, each one more vivid than the last. You felt her hands—a phantom presence sliding over your skin, stroking your hair, tracing patterns along your exposed arms or stomach. Whispers filled the spaces between sleep and waking, soft murmurs that sent shivers racing down your spine even as your mind clung stubbornly to its unconscious state.

More and more, you awoke tangled in your sheets, your heart pounding as if you’d run a marathon. And every time, you felt her presence—Agatha’s scent lingering on your pillow, the faint impression of a figure beside you that vanished when your eyes opened.

One morning, as you sat across from her at breakfast, picking at the edge of your toast, you caught her watching you again. There was something almost predatory in her gaze, as though she were savoring a secret you weren’t yet privy to.

“Sleep okay, darling?” she asked, sipping from her mug.

You froze for a moment, your hand stilling midair as you reached for your coffee. “I—I guess,” you stammered, your cheeks heating under her scrutiny. “I keep having these... weird dreams.”

Agatha tilted her head, curiosity feigned but expertly calculated. “Weird how?”

You shrugged, unsure of how much to share. “They just feel... real. Like someone’s in the room with me.”

Her lips quirked upward in a knowing smile, the corners of her mouth curling like a cat playing with its food. “Do they, now?”

You nodded, unsure if you imagined the flicker of amusement in her eyes.

“Well,” she said after a pause, “maybe it’s just your mind adjusting to a new space. Moving in with someone new can bring out all sorts of feelings. Don’t worry about it too much, sweet thing.”

Her words were meant to reassure, but something about her tone only made you more uneasy.

That night, as you lay curled beneath your blanket, exhaustion threatened to pull you under, but your nerves kept you teetering on the edge of wakefulness. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming—something you couldn’t escape.

It wasn’t long before you fell into a deep, fitful sleep, lulled into submission by a strange comfort you couldn’t explain.

The dreams came swiftly, vivid and disorienting. But this time, the touch wasn’t as ghostly, as faint. This time, it was clear—unmistakable.

The room was thick with the scent of lavender and something darker, something primal. The moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows across the bed where you lay, your body limp and pliant under the weight of Agatha’s doing. She sat perched on the edge of the mattress, her fingers trailing lazily over your exposed skin, her touch feather-light but deliberate. You were deep in the throes of drugged sleep, your breathing slow and even, completely unaware of the violation unfolding around you.

Agatha’s lips curled into a wicked smile as she leaned over you, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders like a curtain. “Such a sweet little thing,” she murmured, her voice a low, sultry purr that sent a shiver through the room. Her hand slid beneath the hem of your shirt, her fingers brushing against the soft skin of your stomach. “So innocent. So perfect.”

You stirred faintly, a soft whimper escaping your lips as her touch grew bolder. Agatha’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she watched your body respond to her, even in sleep. She leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear. “Shh, darling,” she whispered, her breath hot against your skin. “Mommy’s here. Just let me take care of you.”

Her hand moved higher, cupping your breast through the thin fabric of your shirt. She squeezed gently, her thumb brushing over your nipple, coaxing it to hardness. You moaned softly in your sleep, your body arching into her touch, betraying the pleasure you couldn’t consciously acknowledge. Agatha chuckled darkly, her fingers slipping beneath the fabric to tease your bare skin. “That’s it,” she cooed, her voice dripping with possessive affection. “You’re so good for me, aren’t you? My sweet, helpless little thing.”

Her other hand slid down your body, her fingers tracing the curve of your hip before slipping between your thighs. You gasped in your sleep, your legs parting instinctively as her fingers found the warmth of your core. Agatha’s smile widened, her touch growing more insistent as she explored you, her fingers slick with your arousal. “Look at you,” she murmured, her voice thick with desire. “So wet for me already. You don’t even know what’s happening, do you? But your body knows. It knows who it belongs to.”

She leaned down, her lips brushing against your neck as her fingers worked you, slow and deliberate. “You’re mine,” she whispered, her teeth grazing your skin. “Every part of you. And I’m going to make sure you never forget it.”

Her fingers curled inside you, drawing a soft cry from your lips as your body clenched around her. Agatha’s breath hitched, her own desire flaring as she watched you writhe beneath her touch. “That’s it,” she breathed, her voice trembling with need. “Let go for me, darling. Let mommy make you feel good.”

You moaned again, your hips rocking against her hand as the pleasure built, your body responding to her even in the depths of sleep. Agatha’s lips found yours, her kiss deep and possessive as she claimed you, her tongue sliding into your mouth. She swallowed your cries, her fingers moving faster, pushing you closer to the edge.

When you came, it was with a shuddering gasp, your body trembling as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Agatha held you through it, her lips never leaving yours, her fingers drawing out every last drop of your release. When you finally stilled, she pulled back, her eyes dark with satisfaction as she gazed down at you.

“Such a good girl,” she murmured, her voice soft and adoring. She leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

Agatha’s lips lingered on your forehead, her breath warm and heavy as she pulled back just enough to admire your flushed, trembling form. Your body was still twitching faintly from the aftershocks of your forced release, your chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. She smiled, a predatory gleam in her eyes as she shifted her weight, her hands moving to the buttons of her blouse. One by one, she undid them, revealing the pale swell of her breasts beneath. Her nipples were already hard, pebbled with arousal, and she let out a soft, satisfied sigh as the cool air brushed against her skin.

“You’re so perfect like this,” she murmured, her voice low and honeyed, dripping with a sickening sweetness. “So soft. So pliant. Just the way I like you.” Her fingers trailed down your cheek, her touch almost tender if not for the possessive hunger burning in her gaze. “You don’t even know what’s happening, do you? Poor thing. But that’s okay. Mommy’s here to take care of you.”

She leaned down, her breasts brushing against your face as she guided your head to her chest. “Open up, darling,” she cooed, her fingers slipping into your mouth to part your lips. You stirred faintly, a soft whimper escaping you as she pressed her nipple against your mouth. “That’s it. Just like that. Take what mommy’s giving you.”

You resisted at first, your body instinctively recoiling from the intrusion, but Agatha held you firmly in place, her will overriding your own. She tutted softly, her fingers tightening in your hair as she forced you to latch onto her. “Don’t be difficult,” she chided, her voice sharp but still laced with that sickening sweetness. “You need this. You need me.”

The moment your lips closed around her nipple, a shudder ran through her, her breath hitching as she felt the pull of your mouth. “Oh, yes,” she moaned, her head tipping back as she rocked her hips against the bed. “Just like that. Such a good girl for mommy.” Her fingers tightened in your hair, holding you in place as she ground herself against the mattress, her own arousal building with every suckle.

You whimpered around her, the taste of her flooding your mouth. It was too much, overwhelming, but Agatha didn’t care. She only moaned louder, her free hand slipping between her thighs as she worked herself to the rhythm of your suckling. “That’s it,” she panted, her voice trembling with need. “Take it all. Drink up, darling. Mommy’s got so much to give you.”

Her fingers moved faster, her hips jerking as she chased her own release, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. “You’re mine,” she hissed, her voice breaking as she came, her body shuddering violently. “Mine. Every part of you. You’ll never escape me.”

When she finally pulled away, her chest heaving, she looked down at you with a satisfied smile, her fingers brushing over your lips. “Such a good girl,” she murmured, her voice soft and adoring. “Mommy’s so proud of you.” She leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead before settling back against the pillows, her arms wrapping around you in a possessive embrace. “Sleep now, darling. Mommy’s got you.”

“I’ll protect you. Love you. No one else will ever know you like I do. No one else deserves you.”

“I’ll make you understand,” Agatha promised, pressing her lips to your temple.

When you finally woke hours later, the room felt heavier, the air clinging to you like a second skin. Your hands trembled as you pulled back the blanket, noticing how it seemed to cling to the faintest remnants of warmth that didn’t belong to you.

You sat up, your heart hammering in your chest. Something was wrong.

Dreams didn’t leave bruises.

As you pulled your shirt down to get dressed, you caught sight of something in the mirror—a faint, purplish mark high on your neck, near the hollow of your throat. Your breath hitched, panic surging through your veins as you stared at the spot.

No.

It wasn’t possible.

You clutched at the mark, your mind racing to explain it. Maybe you scratched yourself in your sleep. Maybe you leaned against something. Maybe—

“Morning,” Agatha’s voice called from the hall, making you jump.

You quickly yanked your shirt higher, covering the mark as she entered the room with her usual confident air, carrying two mugs of coffee. She handed one to you, her fingers brushing against yours in that deliberate way that made your stomach flip.

“You look flustered,” she noted, her eyes sparkling with amusement as they lingered on your throat for a moment too long.

“I’m fine,” you lied quickly, your voice shaky as you avoided her gaze.

Agatha’s smirk widened. “Oh, I’m sure you are, sweetheart,” she said, her tone dripping with knowing. “I bet you slept like a dream.”

The weight of her words sent a chill down your spine.

She knew.

The tension between you and Agatha was palpable, but it wasn’t just in the way she looked at you. It was in every gesture, every word. Every moment she seemed to linger just a bit too long, or touch you just a bit too much.

You tried to push the thoughts away—tried to focus on your work, to put the strange sensations and the feeling of being watched out of your mind. But it was impossible.

You found yourself growing increasingly disoriented, as if the boundaries between dream and reality were starting to blur. The nights were the worst—especially since waking up feeling flushed and disheveled had become an unsettling routine. Sometimes, it was only the sound of Agatha’s low, comforting voice that pulled you from the fog, telling you everything was fine. “You’re just adjusting,” she’d say with a knowing smile. “New place. New rhythm. It’ll settle.”

But it didn’t settle. The weight of the mark on your neck, the growing feeling of being watched, gnawed at you. The marks started to appear more often, always just out of view—hidden beneath your hair or the collar of your shirt—but you could feel them. It was as if Agatha had claimed you, and no matter how much you tried to fight the idea, your body betrayed you.

You could feel her eyes on you constantly, even when she wasn’t in the room. And sometimes, when she was there, it was like the air itself thickened, charged with something you couldn’t understand. The room seemed smaller with her in it, her presence overwhelming, magnetic, like the pull of gravity itself.

It was a Thursday night, and you didn’t take your evening tea. This time, the restless energy felt different—it was as if your skin was too tight, the weight of your thoughts pressing down on you in a way you couldn’t escape. You tossed and turned for hours, but it wasn’t until the soft sound of footsteps in the hallway that you knew.

She was coming.

Your pulse quickened, and you swore you could feel your heart beating in your throat. Agatha’s presence was undeniable.

The door creaked open, and her silhouette appeared in the doorway, framed by the dim light of the hallway. Her expression was unreadable, her gaze trained on you with such intensity that it made your breath hitch in your chest.

“Agatha…” you whispered, the sound thick with a mixture of dread and something darker, something you didn’t want to acknowledge.

She stepped inside without a word, her soft shoes making no noise on the floor. She didn’t need to speak; her mere presence was enough to still the room, to still your mind.

“You don’t have to pretend anymore,” she said softly, her voice the perfect balance of sweetness and something far more dangerous. Her fingers brushed against your hair, a touch so tender it almost made you lean into it. “You know what’s happening. You know what I’m doing.”

Your throat tightened. “What are you talking about?” you tried to ask, but it came out like a plea.

Agatha smirked, moving closer, her body language predatory, her movements slow and deliberate. She gently cupped your face in her hand, forcing you to meet her gaze. “Don’t play coy with me, darling. I’ve given you everything. I’ve been here, every night, for so long...”

You couldn’t pull away from her touch, and though you wanted to shout, to run, your body didn’t listen. You felt caught in her web, helpless to escape. The mark on your neck still burned faintly, a constant reminder of her claim.

“I’ve been patient, haven’t I?” Agatha murmured, her voice dripping with satisfaction. Her thumb ran over your lower lip, the touch so soft, it made your head spin. “But now… now I think you’re finally starting to understand.”

Her lips parted, and before you could react, she closed the distance between you two. Her kiss was slow, methodical, and almost unbearably tender. You should have pulled away. You should have screamed. But instead, you melted into it, the heat of her body overwhelming, pulling you deeper into the spell she’d been weaving.

Agatha broke the kiss with a soft chuckle, her lips hovering just over yours. “You’re mine now, sweetheart. Completely mine.”

The weight of her words settled in your chest like a stone, and as she smiled, a cold shiver ran down your spine. There was no escaping this—no way out. Agatha had been preparing you for this moment, molding you with every touch, every whisper, every night. And now, in this quiet, shadowed room, the truth was undeniable.

She leaned in again, this time her breath hot against your ear. “You’re going to beg me for more soon. I’ll make sure of it.”

You woke the next morning with your head pounding and your body aching in ways you couldn’t explain. Your skin felt too sensitive, like every nerve was firing at once. You blinked a few times, your vision blurry, trying to make sense of the hazy memories that danced at the edges of your mind.

Your neck throbbed where the mark had been—had it always been there? You glanced into the mirror, but the spot was gone. Still, the lingering sensation remained. The faintest trace of her lips, her hands, as though she’d marked you in a way that no physical mark could explain.

You pulled your shirt down quickly, but it wasn’t enough to hide the feeling that something had changed. Something fundamental. You were different now—changed. And it wasn’t just because Agatha’s kiss had stolen all your breath, or because her words still echoed in your ears.

It was because you wanted it.

You wanted her.

The days after that night were nothing short of a blur. The haziness of sleep deprivation and the strangeness of your own body’s responses left you walking around in a fog. But the fog wasn’t just in your head—it was in every room, in every corner. Agatha’s presence lingered everywhere, like a scent you couldn’t wash away, no matter how hard you tried.

The subtle touches were still there—her fingers brushing your wrist when handing you a mug, her breath too close to your ear when passing by. But it wasn’t just her touch that affected you now. It was her gaze. Her eyes followed you, studied you with an intensity that felt like you were being stripped bare, analyzed, and claimed in ways that made your stomach churn and your heart race.

You couldn’t escape it. You didn’t want to.

It was late afternoon when Agatha cornered you in the kitchen. You were drying dishes, your hands still trembling slightly from the events of the previous night, when she casually leaned against the doorframe, watching you.

"You seem distant today," she said, her voice lilting with a mix of concern and amusement. "You haven't been yourself lately."

You glanced up quickly, feeling an electric charge run through you as her eyes met yours. "I’m just tired," you said, but even to your own ears, the excuse sounded hollow, forced.

She smiled softly, a quiet understanding settling in her expression. "I think it’s more than that, darling." Her eyes flicked down to your hands, where you gripped the dish towel a bit too tightly. "You’ve been... distracted. Like something’s on your mind."

You opened your mouth to protest, to deny it, but her gaze held you captive. Her voice dropped lower, smooth and seductive. “I think you know exactly what’s been on your mind. Don’t you?”

Your heart fluttered, an irrational warmth spreading across your chest as her words sank in. “I—” You froze. You couldn’t lie to her anymore. She knew.

“You’re thinking about last night,” she continued, stepping closer, her heels clicking softly against the floor with each step. “About what we did. What I did to you.” Her breath brushed your ear, sending an involuntary shiver through your body. “And you want more, don’t you?”

Your breath caught in your throat. You opened your mouth, but no words came out. The truth—however uncomfortable it was—was right there in the air between you. You did want more. You did. And you hated yourself for it.

“Just say it,” Agatha purred, her lips brushing the sensitive skin of your ear. “Say it, and I’ll make it all go away. Or rather, I’ll make it all come true.”

“I—” You shuddered, a desperate gasp escaping your lips. “I want you.” The admission was soft, but in that quiet kitchen, it felt like a bombshell.

Agatha smiled then, a slow, satisfied curve of her lips. “I knew it.” She stepped even closer, her hand brushing your cheek, her thumb stroking over your lips in a slow, deliberate motion. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore. I’ll take care of you. Always.”

Her lips were on yours before you could react, soft and insistent, and for a moment, all the noise in your head vanished. All the doubts, all the fears—they were gone, drowned out by the overwhelming sensation of her mouth on yours, her hand on your waist, pulling you closer.

It wasn’t like the soft, tentative kiss from the night before. This was something deeper—more consuming. Agatha’s kiss was possessive, hungry, her tongue sliding into your mouth with a certain urgency that sent a jolt through your body. You kissed her back, unable to stop yourself, your hands grasping at her shirt, feeling the heat of her skin through the fabric.

Her hands roamed, exploring the contours of your body, leaving a trail of fire wherever they touched. You moaned softly into her mouth when she cupped your breast, squeezing gently. It was enough to make your knees feel weak, to make your chest tighten with desire.

“You’re so beautiful,” Agatha whispered against your lips, her voice raw and thick with need. “I’ve wanted you for so long. And now, you’re mine. All of you.”

From that moment on, there was no turning back.

The nights grew more intense, more charged with an unspoken tension that neither of you could resist. Agatha took full control—no longer subtle with her touches or her words. No more drugging you. Every night, she came to you, claiming you piece by piece, until your very bones felt like they belonged to her.

But it wasn’t just in the darkness of the night. During the day, her presence haunted you, her eyes never leaving you, her touch always just a second away. She was always there, in every quiet moment, in every shared glance, in every brush of her fingers across your skin.

She’d been patient, waiting for you to surrender, waiting for you to come to her on your own. And now that you had, she was determined to make sure you never left her side.

One night, as you lay in bed, tangled in the sheets after another heated, desperate kiss, Agatha gazed down at you, her fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin.

“I’m going to make sure you never forget who you belong to,” she murmured, her lips brushing against your collarbone. “I won’t let anyone else have you. Not after everything I’ve done.”

The words hit you like a blow to the chest, and though part of you wanted to run, another part—one you couldn’t quite control—felt a twisted sense of relief. You wanted this. You needed this.

And in the quiet of the night, with Agatha above you, holding you with a possessiveness that almost scared you, you knew deep down you weren’t the same person anymore.

You had become hers.

_-_-_

Please don't forget to vote, reblog, comment, and follow. Send in requests!

[jadeshifting]

🍒 — FRUIT ASK GAME

( reblog … send a fruit … get an answer !! what will the fruit oracle tell you about other realities hmm )

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— 🍋 TERRIBLY SOUR LEMON … who’s your least favorite person in your DR? a poisonous ex, a toxic professor—maybe someone who tried to straight up murder you. who do you truly go sour in the face at the thought of?

— 🍎 SHINY RED APPLE … what are you the absolute best at in your DR? the thing that, when people need help with it, they let out the most gigantic sigh of relief when you walk in the room—everyone knows you do it best

— 🍓 SUGAR SWEET STRAWBERRY … what’s the most romantic, sugar-sweet moment you’ve had or will have in your DR? something so terrifically soft and perfect it could’ve come straight from a wild strawberry patch

— 🍆 DEEP UMBER EGGPLANT … what’s the most thrilling fantasy you have about your lover in your DR? no information is too much or too little, it’s all according to your comfort—a midnight rendezvous, a sudden vacation for two, or maybe just a night in with one-or-two extra glasses of wine and hanging out :)

— 🥝 FUZZY BURST KIWI … what’s something about you in your DR that people wouldn’t expect to be true? it doesn’t quite line up, some fabulous detail about you. when people find out, they’re positively shocked

— 🥭 TROPICAL LUSH MANGO … what adds the most dynamic, vibrant color to your DR? a person, a place, an activity, a part of your identity—its presence lights up your existence there like sun rays on a blank canvas

— 🍏 CRISP GREEN APPLE … what’s a memory from your childhood in your DR that stands out amongst the others? the edges of the picture are crisp, it may not be particularly good or bad—but intricately memorable

— 🍈 HONEY BLISS CANTALOUPE … what’s your favorite season in your DR? do you enjoy sun-drenched summers, an exhilarating back to school time in autumn, or perhaps some particularly festive Christmas traditions that make the wintertime special?

— 🍒 BLOODRED CHERRIES … what is your biggest fear in your DR? you don’t have to get deep if you don’t wanna—it can be as small and horrifying as a spider or the dark. something that truly rattles you to your bones

— 🥑 EARTHY AVOCADO … what’s the most comforting part of your daily routine in your DR? it’s grounding—something that no matter where you are or what you have going on, will always give you reprise and solace

— 🫐 DEWY BLUEBERRIES … what’s your comfort meal or dessert in your DR? maybe it’s something your parents make for you, something you order from room service while you’re reclined in a hotel room, or something simple you prepare for yourself—it makes you feel better the second you sink your teeth into i

— 🍑 OVERRIPE PEACH … what kind of a future do you imagine for yourself in your DR? white picket fence material, with marriage and a couple kids? perhaps childless but continuing on your adventures til old age, or all of the above?

— 🍌 SUNNY BANANA … what’s a piece of art, literature or music that truly moved you in your DR? perhaps something that shaped your identity, something that you enjoy for purely academic reasons, or just your favorite

— 🍅 SCARLET TOMATO … what’s the juiciest secret you’ve ever kept or will keep in your DR? the kind of scandalous thing that would positively burst into drama if revealed

— 🥥 SUN-KISSED COCONUT … what would your ideal vacation be in your DR? a tropical getaway, with white sand and bungalows? a secluded retreat into the foggy mountains? where would you go, and who would you bring with you?

— 🍉 JUICY WATERMELON … what’s your favorite thing about your lover in your DR? the way they smell like home, how they make your chest hurt with laughter, how they take care of you. maybe the way their hair falls in their face just so

— 🍍 SPIKY BOLD PINEAPPLE … if your life in your DR had a color palette, what would it look like? perhaps pastels, or a range of jewel tones? maybe a collection of shades that seem totally random, but that make perfect sense just to you

— 🍐 MELLOW PEAR … what’s a dream or goal you’re pursuing in your DR? it could be as small as reading more often, or going out with your friends more, or as large as saving the entire cosmic universe. whatever you’re working towards!

— 🍇 TART PURPLE GRAPES … if you could bottle the scent of your favorite memories in your DR, what would the notes be? base notes of parchment and ink for your academic pursuits? middle notes of jasmine and rose petals for a lover you hold close to your heart? perhaps top notes of sea salt and sand for a place you find solace in?

— 🍊 SUNSET CITRUS ORANGE … what’s your favorite kind of outing to go on in your DR, with your friends, family, or your partner? whether it’s a classy art gallery, a carefree rocky beach, or an urban jaunt to the mall, you know you’ll have a good time every time

— 🍋‍🟩 ZESTY SOUR LIME … do you have any scars in your DR? a little mark on your knee from a childhood mishap on a scooter, or some gigantic mark left as proof of your world-saving tendencies—one that tells a story, big or small

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[en-eunhee]

ʬʬʬ : NOW PLAY𝒊NG ˊᯅˋ FAN-MADE CONTENT

❛ THE REASON WHY EVERYONE HAS A CRUSH ON EUNHEE

ⓘ 𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒍 : eunhee has an irresistible charm that makes every idol fall for her instantly && MADE iN 2O24. ✶ rbs&feedback . . . DAILY .

— EUNCHAE STAR DIARY

eunchae's eyes sparkled as she recalled the moment she first met eunhee. "eunhee unnie, when you first walked in, i was so shocked. you're so tall and charismatic," she giggled, glancing at eunhee with admiration. can you teach me your ways? like, how are you so cool all the time?"

eunhee blushed, her usual calm demeanor slipping as she laughed. "what are you talking about, eunchae? i'm not that cool as you say." she said, a little shy.

"no, seriously. you just... have this presence," eunchae continued, beaming. "it's like you're walking in slow motion while everyone else is normal speed."

eunhee shook her head, laughing harder. "you're making me embarrassed now!" she said, trying to hide her flushed face. "but... maybe i can teach you a few tricks."

— BEHIND THE SCENES OF ENHYPEN MUSIC BANK

sooyoung stood at a distance, watching eunhee pose gracefully on the stairs as the manager snapped photos. eunhee looked effortlessly elegant, and sooyoung couldn't take her eyes off her. after a few moments, sooyoung pulled out her own phone and snapped a couple of candid shots of eunhee.

she glanced down at the pictures, her breath catching. "why does she look this good?" sooyoung muttered to herself, a small smile forming on her lips. "i’m gonna delete this photo," she joked, showing the picture to the camera "she looks way too good in it."

the manager laughed while sooyoung grinned, admiring the shot again. "actually, never mind. I’ll keep it for… research purposes," she added with a wink, completely whipped for eunhee.

— WEVERSE LIVE WITH SUNGHOON

on weverse live, sunghoon was casually chatting with fans when he spotted a comment that caught his attention.

he squinted at the screen, reading it out loud with a slight smile, "what’s your ideal type?"

leaning back, he thought for a second before his eyes lit up, a playful grin forming. "hmm... my ideal type? i like a girl who's, let’s see... 167 cm, enfj, born on may 17, and... looks like a black cat."

he smirked, clearly amused with himself. the chat exploded as fans realized how oddly specific his description was. with a soft, almost shy look, he added, “yeah... someone like that.”

it was obvious to everyone—sunghoon was completely in love with her.

— MUSIC BANK INTERVIEW

as eunchae smiled at eunhee. “eunhee-ssi, what’s something the fans don’t know about your preparations for this comeback?”

eunhee blushed, laughing softly. “well, i practiced the choreography a lot in my dorm room... sometimes even with a teddy bear as a dance partner."

jungwon’s eyes were fixed on her, entranced by the way her smile lit up the room.

eunchae grinned. “ah, that’s very cute, eunhee-ssi.” she turned to jungwon, “jungwon-ssi, can you please show us a key point of the choreography?”

jungwon blinked, suddenly realizing everyone was staring at him. “ah, oh wait, uh, our choreography has so many fun movements, but one key point is…” he stammered before laughing nervously.

— EUNHEE'S ENDING FAIRY

as eunhee finished her ending fairy moment with a soft smile and playful wink, heeseung couldn’t take his eyes off her. she looked effortlessly cute, and the way she held herself had him completely mesmerized.

seconds passed, but heeseung didn’t even notice. he was still staring, lost in his thoughts about her. then, it suddenly hit him—it was his turn.

startled, his eyes widened as he quickly shifted focus to his camera, throwing on a rushed smile.

— AWARD SHOW

as eunhee stood on stage, she blew a playful kiss to the crowd. in the audience, hanni’s eyes widened in surprise, caught completely off guard by the gesture. she blinked a few times, processing what just happened, before a huge grin spread across her face.

“did she just…?” hanni muttered to herself.

she leaning toward the person next to her, which was minji, “she’s seriously too good at performing.” she whispered, shaking her head with a fond smile.

— SUNOO'S EN-LOG!

sunoo was casually vlogging his "day in the life," chatting away as he sat down for a snack break. he grabbed his phone to check something, but then, with a sudden burst of excitement, he lit up and flipped the screen toward the camera.

"wait, wait, look at this!" he said, tapping on his phone and pulling up a picture of eunhee. "isn’t she so pretty in this photo?"

he stared at the picture for a second, completely smitten, a soft giggle escaping him. "like, seriously… how is someone this pretty?" he added, still showing off the photo.

sunoo smiled to himself before tucking his phone away, casually returning to his snack as if he hadn’t just shown the world how whipped he was for her.

[zhelin-thames]

Buuce meets his doppelganger

@egyptianghosts thx for sending me this

Bruce Wayne had learned, over the years, that strange things happened when he least expected them. He could be on a mission, on patrol, or—as was currently the case—simply trying to enjoy an uneventful father-son outing with Damian.

Dick had insisted they take a short trip out of Gotham for some bonding time, and Bruce, against his usual instincts, had relented. A quiet festival in Pennsylvania sounded like an ideal setting for something normal.

He should’ve known better.

“Dad!”

Bruce turned sharply at the call, instincts flaring at the urgency in the voice. It belonged to a teenager, maybe thirteen or fourteen, jogging towards him and Damian with an exasperated yet casual expression.

Beside him, Damian tensed, his scowl deepening as the boy stopped in front of them.

“Geez, I turn around for a second and you disappear. Now who’s the ghost, huh?” the boy snarked.

Bruce blinked, thrown off by the casual tone directed at him. But before he could speak, the boy’s attention had already shifted to Damian, his expression shifting to concern.

“You okay? Got separated from your people?”

Damian bristled, arms crossing. “My father is right here, you idiot.”

“Damian,” Bruce warned.

The boy’s brow furrowed in confusion before he looked up at Bruce again, eyes searching. A few long, awkward seconds passed before his eyes widened in realization.

“Oh, yeah, you’re not my dad.”

Bruce gave an awkward smile, already scanning the area for any frantic parents looking for their missing child. The kid seemed unfazed, as if this kind of situation wasn’t all that unusual for him.

“Sorry about that,” the boy said, rubbing the back of his neck. “You just look a lot like my dad. Like, you could be twins.”

“Is that right?” Bruce asked carefully.

“Yeah, except he’d never wear a turtleneck,” the boy said, wrinkling his nose. “And he might be a little taller.”

Bruce blinked. “What’s wrong with turtlenecks?”

The boy simply raised an eyebrow, the silent judgment hitting harder than Bruce cared to admit.

Damian, still irritated, interjected, “Since you’ve determined that this is my father and not yours, should you not be looking for him?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” the boy said, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. He turned toward the crowd, took a deep breath, and shouted at the top of his lungs, “GHOST!!”

Several people in the vicinity recoiled, alarmed.

A commotion erupted just to their left, and before Bruce could react, a large man barreled through the crowd like a freight train.

“Where?!” the man bellowed, eyes wild.

“Dad!” the boy called back cheerfully.

The massive man instantly switched from battle-ready to downright giddy.

“Dann-o!” he beamed, scooping up the teen like he weighed nothing. The boy—Danny, apparently—grinned as his father lifted him in a brief, crushing hug before setting him down.

Then Danny turned and pointed directly at Bruce.

“I found your doppelgänger!”

Jack Fenton, as Bruce would later learn his name to be, gasped in delight. “Holy fudge, you’re right! Maddie’s gonna flip!”

Bruce Wayne, seasoned crime-fighter and master of composure, suddenly wished he were anywhere else.

Damian made a disgusted noise beside him. “Surely you cannot be related to this fool.”

Danny grinned. “Oh, I definitely am.” He turned to Jack. “Where’s Mom?”

Jack looked around, rubbing his chin. “Hmm. She was at the fudge stand last I saw her—oh! There she is!”

Bruce followed Jack’s pointing finger to see a woman in a blue jumpsuit, looking at the scene with exasperation. She had sharp, intelligent eyes that immediately landed on Bruce, narrowing in suspicion.

“Oh my stars,” she muttered as she approached. “Jack, tell me you didn’t start a scene.”

Jack grinned sheepishly. “It wasn’t me this time, honey! Danny mistook this fella for me!”

Maddie Fenton gave Bruce an appraising look, arms crossing. “Well, he does look like you. But in a ‘billionaire with questionable taste in turtlenecks’ kind of way.”

Danny snickered. Bruce resisted the urge to sigh.

“I assure you, I am not your husband’s long-lost twin,” Bruce said dryly. “I was simply trying to enjoy the festival with my son.”

Maddie’s gaze flickered to Damian, then softened slightly. “Well, sorry for the mix-up.” Then, turning to Danny, she added, “And you! Stop shouting ‘ghost’ in public, you know better.”

Danny pouted. “But it works every time.”

Damian huffed. “It’s a miracle you’ve survived this long.”

Jack clapped a hand on Bruce’s shoulder before he could step back. “Well, look on the bright side! Now you’ve got an emergency decoy in case you ever need one! We should take a picture!”

Bruce was already regretting coming to Pennsylvania.

Helloooooo, I know I've been gone for a while, but now I'm back—kind of. I'm a bit busy with classes, assignments, and graduation is coming up, so I have a lot on my schedule. Buttt I'll try my best to most more.

[jordiemeow]

MISC BOT DUMP ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

15/04/25

featuring characters from: challengers, west side story, panic, house of the dragon & marvel

prefacing this with a big fat thank u for 700 followers <3 not proofread in the slightest and very badly tagged but that's okay!! got drafts for fics for a lot of these so. Hmm eventually

still have other reqs to get through but saving those for after anniversary :) rafe lovers u r not forgotten.

gender neutral unless specified otherwise. have fun

enjoy ! <3

CHALLENGERS

SERVE(ING PAPERS)

patrick zweig x user

Your marriage was doomed from the start. Everyone pretended otherwise, and it took you a decade to come to that conclusion, but hey. Frontal lobe development, and all that. The point is you're sick and tired of the fighting and infidelity on both sides. Time to get a divorce.

ANOTHER ONE?

art donaldson x user (m4f)

Art's happy with his life, don't get him wrong. He loves likes his career, adores his wife, and Lily is the absolute light of his life. But it's because he loves your little family so much that he's been thinking about expanding it... how about another one?

WEST SIDE STORY

PLEASE DON'T GO

riff lorton x user

Fancy fuckin' school you managed to get yourself accepted into. All was well and dandy before you dropped the news that it meant you'd have to move away and leave him behind. So instead of telling you he'll miss you, he takes the childish route. What happened to loyalty, huh?

NOT ON MY WATCH

riff lorton x user (m4f)

Pretty girl like you is too good to be seen hanging around with the likes of him. You have a future ahead of you—you don't need to be wasting time with some boy you took pity on as a kid for having a crackhead momma. Cutting you out of his life is a necessity, he tells himself... until he spots some member of the Sharks hitting on you a few months later. Absolutely-fucking-not.

LONG TIME NO SEE

balkan jackson x user

It's been a hell of a long time since you've seen him. Keeping a roof over your head is tough, and Balkan is in too deep with the Jets to worry about maintaining friendships. But when he gets into a fight on the wrong side of town, you're the person he turns to. Maybe he just misses you.

PANIC

DADDY'S LIL ANGEL

dodge mason x user (m4f)

Dodge willingly attending church? Unheard of! But when he realises how pretty the preacher's daughter is, he finds himself attending worship. (Not for God, of course. For you.) He's on his best behaviour around you, he swears, but it's getting increasingly hard not to test how hellbent you are on saving yourself for marriage.

A SHOULDER TO CRY ON

dodge mason x user

If you asked his sister, she'd tell you Dodge has the emotional intelligence of a rock. Definitely not the most ideal person to find you crying in the kitchen after a rough shift at Dot's, but you mean a lot to him. Maybe he can lend you a shoulder to cry on... just don't stain his shirt, please.

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON

HEAVY IS THE HEAD

rhaenyra targaryen x user (wlw)

Lucerys is dead, Daemon has disappeared with Caraxes, and Rhaenyra's council is driving her up the wall with their arguing. But amidst all that chaos, she's able to find solace in the company of her lady's maid: you.

THE NEW QUEEN

alicent hightower x user

When Alicent told you that she had some news to share, you did not expect this. Perhaps that some knight asked for her favour, or that she had a new prayer book to share... not that she was marrying your father. Seven Hells, what has she gotten herself into?

FRIEND OR FOE?

jacaerys velaryon x user (m4f)

In theory, Jacaerys should be avoiding you at all costs. Your father is a supporter of the Hightowers, openly expressing his favour for Aegon on the throne. And yet despite it all, he finds himself seeking out your company more often than not—you aren't like the rest of them, he's sure of it.

MARVEL

PETALS AND PENITENCE

peter parker (tasm) x user

Surprise! Your best friend is Spider-man! And you are not happy about the fact he's kept this very life-altering secret from you, his closest companion. When you decide to ignore him after his accidental reveal, he realises he has to take matters into his own hands—a grand gesture, maybe. It's a pity the flowers got so wrecked in his bag, though.

LAST ONES STANDING

natasha romanoff x user

In the aftermath of the Blip, everything changed. But, five years after the initial disappearance of half the world's population, things are returning to some form of normalcy. Or, at the very least, you're still as infuriatingly optimistic as Natasha remembers.

OH CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN

steve rogers x user

When you enlisted as a medic during the Second World War, Steve was proud of you. He couldn't serve his country, but you could. That was, of course, until Dr. Abraham Erskine took a chance on a poor kid from Brooklyn. Now you're both changing lives for the better, and he's never been more happy to see an old friend.