#digital touch-ups to make this possibly final one that more special | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

osachiyo · 2 months

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𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 & 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — 1.7k+ words, vampire!fyodor x fem!reader, fluff + n/sfw, virginity loss, spitting (not like u think lol), soft!fyodor, cunnilingus, blood, biting, etc • this surprisingly won the poll soooo here u guys go ! also i didn't originally intend for him to be a vampire but like the latest chapter did something to me.. anyway, happy reading and i hope you enjoy !! minors dni & NOT PROOFREAD

"fedya i —"

"hush, my dear, let me take care of you," fyodor hummed, smooth but warm voice effectively cutting you off. "it's your first time, after all — we can't possibly have this be an unpleasant time for you," he spoke calmly, reaching out a thumb to smooth the crease between your brows, "i've got you, angel."

you nodded, hesitantly — wanting to please fyodor but it seemed like he was dead set on making this special for you. "now," your train of thought got cut off by fyodor's rich voice once again, "do you trust me, myshka?" he murmured the words into your neck — inhaling the sweet scent of your body lotion mixed with your natural smell. "do you even have to ask that, my love?" you chuckled, soft fingers brushing away a stray hair from his face, tucking that piece behind his ear and he smiled, "no, but it doesn't hurt to ask, right sweetheart?" cold lips pressed themselves against your neck — before his tongue darted out to lick at the sensitive skin.

you gasped when he finally bit down on your neck, fangs etching themselves deep into your soft flesh, you could feel your face flush at the way fyodor's hands were trying to grab anywhere he could, until they settled on the small of your back, pressing you as close to him as possible.

"f-fedya.." you pressed against his chest when you started to feel light headed, immediately catching his attention as he pulled away — you could see your blood staining his vampiric teeth and running down his lips in a line. "apologies, my dear — i was simply drunk off of your taste," he licked his lips clean before pressing them against your cheek — merely brushing them against your eager lips for a second before pulling away. damn tease.

"why don't you take this off for me, hm?" long fingers brushed against the straps of your nightgown, his hands itching to just rip the flimsy piece of clothing off — but he had to be patient. he didn't want to rush things with you, after all.

you happily obliged his request, slipping the thin straps off your shoulder, before shimmying out of the dress. now only in your undergarments, you shivered from the night air hitting your sensitive spots. but before you could even complain, fyodor suddenly captured your lips in a heated kiss — your inexperienced ones struggling to keep up with his.

you didn't even notice he had you pinned on the bed until your back hit the mattress, your hair sprawled on the sheets like a halo around you — making you look like an angel in his eyes. "..beautiful," fyodor whispered against your collarbones, leaving small nips and bites there — his cool lips a great contrast to your heated skin.

"f-fedya," you moaned once his hands found your breasts, fondling the soft mounds in his palms before looking up at you with those amethyst eyes. "yes, my dear?" he grinned, brushing his sharp teeth on the side of your tit, restraining himself from biting you.

"touch me more, please," you begged, hips twitching up involuntarily when his fingers found your nipples, pinching the hardened buds between his lithe digits while pressing kisses between the valley of your breasts.

"i'd be a fool not to," he chuckled, happily obliging to your pleads. "let's take this off, yeah?" he put his fingers in the waistband of your panties, admiring the pretty little bow on the skimpy garment. it felt like he was unwrapping a present — your pussy.

he watched as strings of your arousal stuck to the fabric as he pulled it away, revealing your awaiting and untouched cunt to him. "absolutely gorgeous," he breathed out, the air fanning on your folds made your head spin. fyodor eventually took your panties fully off, chucking it somewhere on the bed, but his eyes were on you the entire time — on that perfect cunt.

"may i, darling?" fyodor licked his lips, trying his best to not just shove his head between your thighs — he needed you to say it, to want it as bad as he did.

"please, need you so bad right now —!," you whined, tossing your head back once he licked a flat stripe up your cunt, groaning lowly at the taste. "taste's s'good," he purred, gathering your slick on his tongue before dipping the pink muscle into your hole — almost tongue-fucking you.

"mmh," you tried your best to muffle the sinful noises escaping your lips — biting down on your hand so hard it's almost enough to draw blood, until you felt fyodor's cold hands pry it away — "i want to hear you, my love, don't be shy —" his tongue swirled over your clit deliciously, "sing for me."

and you did — back arching so sweetly while those intoxicating little moans and whines rolled off your tongue, all while fyodor's was moving in and out of you.

" 'm gonna cum — fedya, please," your hand found purchase in his soft ebony locks, tugging on it gently and hearing, feeling him moan into your cunt — sending vibrations throughout your whole body.

"please what?" he finally opened his eyes, mischief written all over his features as he worked his mouth on you. "what do you want me to do, pretty girl?" fyodor hummed, pulling away to spread your folds with his thumbs — before spitting directly onto your hole, watching the tight ring clench and unclench rapidly. how cute, he thought.

you gasped at the lewd show he was putting on, before reluctantly speaking up, "please make — make me c-cum, fedya," the tears gathered on your lashes finally fell, earning a soft coo from the man between your legs.

"is that right, my love?" he mused, reaching down a finger to collect some of your slick before plunging the long digit in — breath catching in his throat once he felt just how tight and warm you were. "cum for me, beautiful," that was the last thing he rasped before diving in — groaning unashamedly into your cunt. that was all you needed, the final push before releasing all over his face and mouth, drenching his chin down to his collar, and he wasn't even mad about it.

"oh oh go— gosh, feels s'good," you clenched your eyes shut at the unbelievable amount of pleasure, it was so good. fyodor continued to lick and gulp down all your juices, muttering praises in between.

once he finally pulled away, he finally took a good look at you and fuck — you looked utterly debauched. tits spilling from the bra he was yet to completely take off, the bite marks littering your skin and your face. especially your face — eyes glazed over and unfocused as little pants left your mouth, drool and tears running down your chin. you looked like a ruined mess — a beautiful ruined mess.

fyodor didn't waste any time before beginning to undress himself, he needed to fuck you — now. he could feel how unbelievably hard he was, it almost hurt how turned on he was, not that he'd ever admit how crazy you make him.

"you're ready," he breathed, before kissing you deeply — hardened cock rubbing against your folds and spreading his precum on them, mixing with your arousal. "so ready," you smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck as he hoisted you up, pinning you against the headboard this time.

"do tell if this hurts too much," he groaned, biting his chapped lips as he slowly pushed the tip in — feeling you contract around him nearly drove him insane. you gasped and writhed in pain as he entered you — but it felt so good at the same time, to be so impossibly close to the man you love — you didn't mind the pain too much, instead focusing on the blooming warmth in your chest.

that warmth intensified once you glanced at his face — usual pale skin now flushed, brows furrowed and hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. he looked almost angelic — as if he wasn't a creature of sin.

fyodor's eyes opened and he caught you staring at him in awe, his lips twitching up to show a genuine smile — filled with love and warmth for you. only for you.

"you feel so good, moya lyubov," he almost moaned out — hips thrusting so sensually it almost had you rolling your eyes back.

"a-ah fyodor —!" you mewled so cutely when he brushed his fangs against your neck — so sharp they almost drew blood. "can i? please, milyy," he pleaded — and who were you to say no to him?

you didn't answer him with words, only craning your neck to give him more access — and he got the memo. sharp fangs sunk into your neck, making you tightening your grip on fyodor — his hips quickening their pace, now becoming desperate, and hungry for release.

the taste of your blood filled fyodor's senses — you tasted so good, so sweet he had to hold himself back from cumming immediately — he had to make his girl cum first, right?

your eyes shot open once you felt cold fingertips rubbing your clit in hurried circles, walls clenching even more on the vampire's length which had him muttering small curses in russian. you could feel yourself getting light-headed from the loss of blood — but it wasn't fatal, he'd never hurt you like that. "close, milaya?" he grunted, now licking up the blood dripping from the punctures on your neck — his eyes rolling back slight from the metallic taste.

"yes — yesyesyes —!" you squealed, gushing all over his cock, soaking the bedsheets in the process. fyodor couldn't last much longer either, your taste along with the feeling of your cunt fluttering around him had him cumming seconds after you — both of you moaning in unison as he filled you to the brim.

you yelped when fyodor slumped against you — for a vampire, he didn't have the stamina of one. "tired?" you breathed out, brushing some stray hair from his pretty face. fyodor only hummed in response, eyes opening to take in the sight of you underneath him — pants leaving the both of you. your hair was messy, dried blood and tears staining your skin. "so beautiful," he hummed, pressing his lips against your temple. "you did so well, my love," he praised, chuckling at the way you suddenly became so shy.

"get some rest, my dear — i'll have ivan make you something rich in iron. i may have took... a tad too much blood," he sighed, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. you could only nod absentmindedly, eyes fluttering closed as the tiredness finally got to you.

an "i love you, sleep well, beautiful girl," was the last thing you heard before slipping away in dream land.

©osachiyo— do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated♡

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sleepysnk · 9 months

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a/n: i decided to do a part two to my virgin killer headcanons! thank you guys for all the love on the first part. i hope you guys enjoy this one!

characters: isagi yoichi, reo mikage, nagi seishiro, rin itoshi

warnings: established relationships, nsfw, virgin!reader, virginity loss, praising, some rough(ish) sex, use of pet names (baby, my love, princess, babe), vanilla sex (reo + nagi), fingering (rin + isagi), oral sex f!receiving (nagi + reo), some overstimulation, breeding kink (nagi + rin), creampie.

part one.

VIRGIN KILLER HEADCANONS.

isagi yoichi:

we all know isagi is a respectful guy, especially when it comes to you, so when you announced to him that you were still a virgin he wasn’t very surprised at all.

he knew first times were delicate moments, so he wanted to make sure you were comfortable and ready when that moment came. it took a while, but after some time and anniversary dinners, you finally gave him the okay that you were ready to have sex with him. isagi wasn’t entirely sure on how to start, but he knew preparation was important and that’s how he ended up with two of his fingers knuckle deep inside of you. he pressed on your g-spot which made your pussy soak his hand with your slick. he thought you were so gorgeous with his digits touching your gummy walls with his name slipping from your glossy lips like it was a prayer. it was so pretty. it was even prettier when you experienced your first orgasm with him in front of you.

once you rode out your high, isagi finally pushed himself inside of your hole. isagi almost lost all of his composure when your pussy hugged his cock tightly. you were just as divine as he imagined and he took his time with you. he couldn’t stop the curses from coming out of his mouth as he rolled his hips into your cunt, increasing the pleasure you desired more than anything else. he wanted to make sure your first time was a good one, and it was. he made you see stars whenever his tip kissed at the button inside you. isagi especially loved when your nails scratched down his back, leaving marks on his skin.

“shit.. you like that, princess? fuck, i love you so much..”

reo mikage:

reo is a gentleman of a boyfriend, so when you told him you were a virgin, he didn’t take it the wrong way. if anything, he was turned on by that idea. you had yet to experience your firsts and the idea of it being him made his dick harder than a rock.

reo was very patient with you. he was somewhat taken off guard when you started kissing his neck and whispering how he makes your pussy wet. he took that as the cue that you were ready for him, so he decided to put his tongue between your pretty folds. he couldn’t believe you tasted that great. your pussy was dripping wet and you were losing your mind while his tongue dove deep into your cunt. he wanted you to experience as much pleasure as possible, but he couldn’t hide that selfish desire in his pants while you cried out his name for more. he practically started humping the bed when you reached your first orgasm, leaving your slick all over his tongue.

being inside of you was a different story. reo almost came on the spot when his cock pushed into your walls, spreading you apart. he always thought you would be amazing, but he didn’t think you would almost take his breath away while he thrusted inside of you. he especially loved it when you moaned his name and looked into his eyes. seeing your fucked out face made him so turned on. he had the urge to cum inside of you. to watch his cum drip out of you made his dick twitch, but he knew he had to wait.

“my baby lookin’ so pretty for me.. you like when i fuck you, princess? yeah?”

nagi seishiro:

he’s most definitely a sweetheart like reo is when it comes to your virginity. he would kiss the top of your head and tell you that he’s ready whenever you’re ready and to just say the word when you want to have that special moment with him.

when that moment came after a long day of going out, he was more than prepared. nagi wanted you to feel comfortable enough with him and the last thing he wanted was to possibly hurt you during the act, so he decided to make sure you were prepped enough for him. nagi was a bigger guy. he was much thicker and he knew that it could cause harm when it first went in. he wanted nothing more than to taste that sweet pussy he had fantasized about for the last few months you had been dating. he wondered if it was sweet just like you were, and he wasn’t wrong. your slick was so great on his tongue he couldn’t stop himself from licking every drop. he wanted to devour you, but after your second orgasm, he knew he had to get things started between you both.

nagi struggled to fit inside of you at first. your pussy was so tight and warm. he almost contemplated doing more foreplay, but that thought flew out the window when he finally bottomed out and your walls were gripping his cock like a vice. you felt so incredibly full by your boyfriend that every thrust was making you see stars in your vision. nagi kept things slow, too. he didn’t want to hurt you and there was so much passion blooming in his chest at the beautiful sight of you taking his cock. your body was gorgeous and so was your face. he loved you so so much. he wanted to make that moment special between you two.

he made you cum several times. you almost cried from the rush of pleasure you kept receiving and all nagi’s mind was telling him was to fill your pussy with his cum. once he had the okay from you, he quickened his thrusts and let it go, covering your walls in white. it was so warm and nice. you loved nothing more than that feeling and so did he. making love to you was amazing to him and he couldn’t wait to do it more often.

“i love you, babe. don’t forget that.. ever.”

rin itoshi:

he really didn’t have much of a reaction when you told him you were a virgin. it was something that was normal amongst people, so he didn’t see it as much of a problem whatsoever. rin, although he struggled with intimacy at times, was going to respect you and make sure that you were comfortable enough before he decided to make that step with you.

he had the day off, so he spent the entire day with you. you guys went out and ran some errands and even had a nice meal before nightfall, and that’s when you decided to tell rin that you were ready to have sex with him. rin was somewhat excited about it. he wondered many times what your pretty body looked like underneath your clothes, and now that moment was about to happen. he was very gentle at first. his fingertips brushing against your smooth skin, taking in every small curve or bump on your body. it was pretty to him and he couldn’t wait to get started. once he had the go ahead, rin started playing with your pussy. your cunt was soaked already from his previous actions, so it didn’t take him very long to slip a finger into your hole. it felt so good. his fingers curled and twisted to find that spot inside of you to make you almost scream, and rin was practically getting off on it. you were so gorgeous, but so lewd at the same time.

soon enough, rin was stuffing his cock inside of you. he almost lost himself and started fucking your brains out right then and there, but he had to gain some self restraint because he feared causing harm to you. his cock was so big. he reached areas inside you that you had no idea existed and it felt euphoric. watching your pussy suck in his cock like it was a vice turned rin on so much. you were such a good girl for him. your sweet voice was like music to his ears every time he rutted his hips into you. he would gradually pick up the pace a little, observing what turned you on and what he needed to hold back on. after making you cum several times, he wanted to breed you. he had that desire for so long and he wanted to act upon that, so once you consented, he came into you. his cum flooded your walls and filled your womb, making him feel satisfied with himself.

“ah.. yeah, that’s it, baby. you take me so well! you want my baby, my love? i’ll give it to you..”

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fayes-fics · 1 year

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Happy Birthday, Mr Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Benedict's wife gives him the best possible birthday gift.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors dni, masturbation, vaginal sex, massage, pregnancy.

Word Count: 3.0k

Author's Note: A more romantic fic than my usual. The sweet, soulful artist deserves to be loved and cherished. Enjoy <3

It’s midnight, and a birthday has just begun.

You pad through the house to Benedict’s studio. He is perched on a stool, busy sketching. He often works late into the night when the muse takes him. You pause in the open doorway to watch him work. Admiring his skills as he feathers his charcoal across the page. Admiring him, the movements of his artistic hands, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his braces hanging loose around his hips.

“Happy birthday, my love,” you call softly as you close the door.

“Thank you, my lo…” his answer dies on his lips as he turns and sees you.

Speechless is a good start.

Your skin feels aglow as you bask in his attention, sauntering towards him. His eyes track your every movement. His hand is still suspended in midair, charcoal in hand.

Your gown is totally sheer, the colour of your flesh, its only adornment being tiny starbursts of silver sequins that glitter in the candlelight. You feel beautiful in it, like a walking shimmering fireworks display. With a few layers of chemises, this would be a stunning ball gown; without them, it’s a scandalous sight. Everything is visible through the translucent tulle layers. And you wear absolutely nothing underneath except a dab or two of his favourite perfume.

He still hasn’t said anything, but he is breathing slightly heavily as you draw up to him, his eyes raking up and down your body. You pluck the charcoal between his fingers and place it down on his easel.

“I am the luckiest man in the world,” he exhales quietly, finally finding his voice.

Warmth blooms in your chest, and you smile fondly at his compliment, stepping between his slightly bended knees; one of his feet looped onto the stool, the other kicked out towards the easel. You set aside a little glass vial you came in holding.

“Wh…” he begins, but you hush him with a soft finger to his lips.

“Shh, you don’t need to speak tonight, my love,” you murmur, running your hands into his hair, “just feel.”

His eyes soften and give silent acceptance, and his body relaxes a notch. Even though he finds solace in his art, he’s had a long few days; you want to soothe him and bring him peace.

His soulful blue eyes watch your expressions as your fingertips trail across his cheekbones, curling inwards to brush the back of your fingers down his jawline to his chin, mapping the structure of his face. There are libraries worth of literature extolling female beauty, but you’ve found precious few pieces that capture the truth of male beauty such as his. Your thumb traces gently over his lips, and you ghost a smile as he busses gently against your digit.

You move your hands to outline the shell of his ears, passing his earlobes between your fingers, sweeping down to cup his neck, pressingly on the tension points you feel corded there. He exhales deeply, leaning into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed. Tonight it’s all about making him feel special, not just because it’s his birthday, but because he spends so much of his time catering to the needs of others, most of all yours, and he deserves to be indulged.

Splaying your fingers upwards around the back of his head, you enjoy running them into his thick hair. He hums contentedly as you massage lightly. Then his breath hitches as you scrape your nails lightly across his scalp, the skin around his open shirt collar erupting into goosebumps. Oh, the responsiveness is so enchanting.

You lean forward and kiss his lips softly, just a brief touch. His eyes fly open, and he chases your lips as you pull away. He pleads with the most mournful expression, so you relent and press your lips to his again. His hands curl around your shoulders, their sizeable warmth at once both centring and sending you soaring. He kisses back slowly, opening his lips slightly, his tongue requesting permission to yours. Hands still in his hair, you pull closer, deepening the kiss. His arms now slide around your back to hold you close. It’s luscious and languid. Shared breaths and gentle flirtation.

You reach down and tug his shirt up. He assists your efforts, removing his arms from around you and pulling the garment up and over his head. You catalogue the sculpted plains of his arms, chest, and stomach. He is watching your face with a crooked smile; he knows all the telltale signs of your desire. Your tongue feels thick, wanting to run over every inch. For later, you tell yourself.

His brow knits in puzzlement as you circle him, coming to a halt behind him instead. You kiss the back of his neck, running your nose up into his hair, where his natural scent is most potent. On instinct, it draws you closer; your hands curl around his biceps as you press your upper body against him. The rasp of your tulle dress against his shoulder blades hitches his breath and yours, the friction causing your nipples to pebble heavily. Knowing he can feel it too—a little tease of what else will come later.

He is listening intently as you reach for the small glass vial you came in with, opening it and pouring a little oil into your palm. Usually, by now, he would be asking what you're doing, using the velvety tone that makes your body sing. Tonight he is quiet, but one look into his eyes would say everything his lips are not.

Notes of orange and bergamot swirl into the air as you massage the oil into your hands, warming it. His inhale is a sign he recognises the scent from the hours of pleasure in your bedroom. Usually, it is him massaging your body into a blissful state before slipping his fingers inside you, making you come over and over. More derailing thoughts you need to put aside.

You begin by running the flanks of your hands firmly down either side of his spine, all the way from his neck to his waist. His moan is one of relief, not desire, but your body reacts regardless; the sudden want to be filled by him is visceral. Your lips tingle to kiss him again, but you resist the urge, focussing on bringing him serenity.

Feeling the tension easing under your fingers as you work on the knots around his neck is a mutual reward. His breath is deep and even; he shifts to place both feet flat on the floor. You spend many minutes mapping the stress points in his back and kneading the flesh until it relents into a relaxed state. His hums and sighs act as the guide for your progress. You circle back to his front when it seems he is entirely free from any strain.

“Does that feel better, my love?” You know the answer, but asking gives you a moment to indulge your heart, appreciating the blissful look on his face as he nods contentedly.

He pulls you in for another kiss and gently bites your lower lip. The room grows a few degrees warmer, a sparking feeling notching up your spine, radiating out across your skin.

You run your hands heavily up his thighs, admiring the latent power you feel underneath the material, him watching your movements. Your hands reach his hips and pause, waiting for his gaze to meet yours. Then you start unbuttoning; you know he’s not wearing anything underneath today; he often doesn’t when you are home. It’s gratifying to watch his pupils dilate as you twist your mouth into a playful pout with each button relenting.

As you reach the last button, you grin broadly, grab his hand instead, and pull him bodily across the room towards the emerald green chaise. The one you have posed on countless times for him. He trails behind you with a carefree laugh, holding up his britches with his free hand.

“No need for modesty Mr Bridgerton” you tease as you pull him to a stop next to the chaise. He raises an eyebrow and lifts his hand, his britches falling to a heap on the floor. Your gaze descends to his cock, standing proud. So familiar to you now, but every time as tantalising and thrilling as the first time he showed you his body.

“Why do you ever wear clothes?” you think wistfully. Your cheeks flush as his lopsided smile tells you you have voiced your thoughts.

“If the lady wishes, I never will again in this house”, he whispers seductively. “But only if you only ever wear this dress” His fingers trace the neckline of your gown with feather-soft touches. “Or nothing at all.” His lips find the spot just below your earlobe that makes you shiver.

“This evening is supposed to be about me seducing you, birthday boy,” you admonish affectionately, pulling your neck away reluctantly, “not the other way around.”

“By all means, Mrs Bridgerton, please continue,” using that voice he knows makes your knees weak.

“Lay down,” you whisper.

He relaxes back on the chaise, one arm tucked behind his head, with an easy smile, an innate confidence in his nudity. You wish you had his skills to capture this moment on a canvas. You take your time surveying the sight before you, shameless almost in your ogling. Ladies of good breeding are not supposed to be so lascivious, but you can’t help it when it comes to your husband. He is gorgeous to you. And, based on how heads turn when he walks into a room, you are not alone in that sentiment. Not for the first time; you consider yourself very lucky he returned your feelings.

“Penny, for your thoughts, my love,” his arm reaching for you, his fingers gently circling your wrist.

“I was just thinking I am the luckiest woman in the world,” you reply truthfully, echoing his sentiment when you walked in earlier, leaning down to kiss the hand that holds your wrist.

His smile turns almost shy, and he averts his eyes, long eyelashes fluttering as a slight blush colours his cheeks. It makes your heart melt and your pussy clench simultaneously. How he can do that astounds you. You want to wrap him in the tightest, sweetest hug but also fuck him so hard your teeth rattle. What a beautiful contradiction.

“I had all these plans,” you sigh, “but I find myself impatient for you, my love.”

“Tell me about them,” he requests, looking back up at you, his lips tugging into a playful, beautiful crooked grin.

“I planned to tease you for ages, kiss every inch of your skin from your ankles to your hair,” you reply, your gaze tracking up his body again, fingers itching to trail over his contours.

“Sounds lovely,” his voice teasing.

“Mmmm, but,” you hitch up your dress and straddle him, settling your hips on his waist, your dress fanning out over him, your fingers tracing the constellation of freckles on his breastbone, “you are too tempting, Mr Bridgerton, and I find I just want you inside me.”

“That sounds even better,” he admits, his voice rough as he grabs your knee and runs a hand up your thigh under the gauzy layers. His questing fingers slide between your legs, and you moan as he expertly flexes them against you.

You grab his forearm. “No, my darling, it’s you who gets the pleasure tonight,” you counter, gently shaking your head and pulling his hand away.

“But I want to watch you. I love your face when I do this to you,” Benedict pleads, his eyes so beseeching.

“Then allow me,” you offer with a raised eyebrow.

Gathering your dress slightly, you slide your fingers between your legs, loving the wetness you find there, all for him. You moan gently, holding his gaze as your fingers move. His grip on your thigh tightens; you intuit what he is asking for and speed up your ministrations. You bite your lip and groan loudly, not daring to break eye contact. His other hand behind his head moves to grip your other thigh; his Adam's apple bobs visibly as he swallows, and his chest rises and falls more visibly.

“I need you,” his voice breathy and low, “please…”

Your fingers slip from your body and reach behind to grab him, and he groans as you give him a few gentle pumps with your hand before shuffling backwards to line him up with your body. Watching many expressions flit across his face, revelling in his breathy anticipation, you allow his tip inside. His moan is like poetry, and you sink fractionally lower, loving how it feels when he invades your body—the insistent stretch and heat. You roll your hips, eager to envelop him but also to maintain a slow tease. He looks at you pleadingly.

“What do you need, my beautiful birthday boy?” you ask softly.

“Please, my love, take all of me; I need you,” his voice sounds so needy it makes your chest flutter.

You smile as his eyes burn into yours, then sink down, gasping at the hot, plunging invasion pulling you so taunt. The lustful noise he emits makes you pulse around him, which in turn makes him call out your name, a wanton call and response that has you grabbing his hands and placing them on your breasts. The tulle of your dress scrunches against your nipple, sequins catching against your sensitive skin and between his fingers. He slips his hand inside the neckline and grabs your naked flesh as you press into his touch and start to rock gently.

Usually, you talk to each other when you make love, whispering debauched thoughts or just communicating how you feel. But tonight, you enjoy a silent, almost psychic connection, something more sensual and decadent, staring into each other's eyes, saying everything without words. Your movements are fluid but slow and deliberate, savouring the intoxicating feel of him sliding within you.

He lifts your left hand from his body and brings it to his mouth, brushing his lips over the wedding ring you wear proudly. You mirror his actions, taking his left hand, but instead plunge his wedding ring finger into your mouth, sucking it gently, the metal of his ring knocking against your teeth as you rise and fall. Hoping to convey through your actions the depth of emotion and passion you feel for this man.

He groans and drives his hips upwards, sliding even deeper, catching against the top of your channel, your toes flexing at the pleasure that causes. You call his name, releasing his hand, your nails scratching over his abs. Something more carnal, taking you both somewhere frantic.

You surge up and down, chasing all the sensations, his hands running down your back, warm through the layers of your dress, grasping your hips and pulling your down harder into him as your fingernails drag against the ripples of his abdomen muscles. Over and over until your thighs burn, and still, you don't ever want to stop, revelling in the feeling you get every time he nudges that place inside you that makes all the exertion worth it.

You see in his eyes as he is approaching his peak, the desperation for you to join him, making you reach under your dress and touch yourself, him hissing encouragements as you do so. His voice rockets you to the edge, the sonorous rumbling through his body that sweeps you over to a place that is a kaleidoscope of bliss; breath stolen, body tensing and releasing, firing a euphoria in every fibre from your scalp to your toes. Distantly, you can hear him climaxing, his fingers a vice-like grip as his groan turns guttural, and he holds you down fiercely. All his muscles tense in rigid relief as he comes hard. He looks so beautiful in this moment, biting his lip and screwing his eyes shut, that you collapse onto him and kiss his jaw, even biting gently in a way that makes him more vocal and his grip stronger.

Then as the intensity of the moment passes, all is serene as you recover together, breaths evening out, hands laced together. These quiet moments after the passionate storm feel the most intimate—the languid caresses, soft kisses and whispered words.

“Thank you for the most wonderful birthday gift,” he sighs, sated, as you lay atop him, your head on his shoulder, drawing idle shapes on his pectoral muscle with the tips of your fingers.

“A massage and making love are not your gift, my love,” you refute quietly, twisting your head to look up into his inquisitive eyes. “You deserve those and so much more. No, your gift is something else entirely. There is a reason I dressed like this, to look like the nicest gift wrapping that I possibly could,” you explain and sit up, straddling him again.

“I will always think of you as the best gift in my life,” he chuckles happily.

“Not me, Benedict.” You grab his hand and place it on your dress, just below your belly button.

“There is a gift in here for you, my love. It will probably take another, hmm, seven months, but I think it will be the greatest gift you, and indeed I, could ever receive. A beautiful gift we made together.”

His breath catches, and his mouth opens a fraction in surprise; his eyes suddenly go glassy and soft with emotion.

“Are you with child, my love?” he murmurs excitedly.

“I believe I am Mr Bridgerton. Or should I say papa?” you smile indulgently. Suddenly he is sitting up and pulling you into an embrace with his other arm, his lips finding yours.

“This is the best gift ever,” he grins, his eyes damp, his hand cradling your still-flat belly as if it is the most precious thing in the world.

“Happy birthday, Mr Bridgerton,” you beam as you place your hand over his, “from both of us.”

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @wysteria-clad @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #1k notes #1k notes omg you guys!

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abbyromanoff · 1 year

Note

Hi I have a request could you possibly do GP service top Wanda who is a virgin and the reader gives her a lap dance and rides her afterwards with mommy kink (preferably reader being called mommy) and praise if that’s okay with u :)

Mommy

Pairings: g!p Wanda Maximoff x reader

Summary: Trying to make Wanda’s first time special you planned everything out, giving her a lap dance until she finally broke

Word count: 1,020

Warnings: smut, mommy kink, Wanda has a penis, praise kink, dirty talk, riding, unprotected sex, Wanda cumming inside reader

No one is permitted to steal, copy, or reblog my work as their own!!

Wanda sat impatiently on the living room chair, waiting for you to return from the bedroom. You told her you had a surprise for her during dinner. You made this night perfect. When she returned home from her mission you brought her to the bath you drew for her, made her favorite meal, and now you were going to put on a show for her. You put on the lacy pair of lingerie and walked out after checking yourself over in the mirror.

Before Wanda could hear you, your hands were wrapped around her eyes, blocking her sight from behind her.

“Surprise.” You whispered in her ear before letting her see you in your full glory. Wanda’s eyes went wide when looking over your outfit, you wore her favorite color.

Straddling her lap you brought her chin up to look at you in the eyes, using your thumb to brush against her mouth. When she slowly opened it you popped your digit inside, watching as she sucked it. You groaned and lightly grinded against her crotch, feeling a tint under her sweatpants.

“Enjoy the show Wands.” You muttered as you stood up, making her chase after you slightly. Wanda watched in glory as you moved around, teasing her with every move. Slowly you dropped your bra and your girlfriend stared at your exposed chest, almost drooling at the sight. You turned your body around, your back now facing her as you lowered yourself to her neck, leaving marks all over it as you rode her thigh slightly.

When she went to grab your hips you quickly stopped her, “uh uh uh, no touching the dancers baby, don’t you know the rules?” You fake pouted and she mumbled out an apology before you continued your dance.

Four minutes went by before Wanda couldn’t physically take it anymore, her cock was rock hard and you were still looking sexy as ever. Her eyes started to water slightly as she felt the painful sensation in her pants.

“Y/N.” She whimpered out. You sat on her lap once more, shuddering at the feeling of her length against you. Grabbing her hand you placed it on your breasts, letting her play with them to her liking. When you let out a moan and threw your head back you felt her still below you, looking to see her mouth open and her breathing heavy. You were confused until you realized why she looked so embarrassed, she came in her pants. Hiding your smile you fauxed concern and got onto your knees in front of her, rubbing her through her pants teasingly.

“What’s wrong Wanda? You embarrassed ‘cause you came, hm? That’s alright, I knew you wouldn’t be able to control yourself long enough anyways.” She shook her head, trying to disagree with you. You slowly slid your hand into her pants and under her boxers, feeling her semi hard on covered in a sticky substance. Bringing your finger covered in her juices to your mouth you moaned at the taste causing a shiver to go down her spine.

The two of you wanted to make your first time nice, so here you were, now having her pants pulled down as you licked her up. She didn’t realize it would feel this good, of course when she jerked off it felt nice but this was different, it was amazing.

“Mommy.” Came a small, out of breath voice. You looked up when registering what she said, stopping to bask it in. You regained your composure and grabbed her face, pulling her into a rough kiss.

“Mommy’s here, they’re gonna take real good care of you tonight. Make you cum so fucking hard, you want that? You want to be a good girl for mommy and make them proud?” Her rapid nod made you chuckle as you dragged your hand up and down her cock, lining it up with your wet cunt. She slid inside you with ease, your wetness and her length covered in your spit made it easy to enter you. When you took more of her down all she felt was warmth wrapped around her, she was surprised she didn’t cum on the spot. Your chest bounced in her face as she tried her best not to grab them, but she couldn’t help it. You stopped her before she could move forward, trying to put one in her mouth.

“Beg for it sweetheart, beg for mommy’s tits.” “Please mommy, want it so bad! I want your tits so much, need them in my mouth!” You obliged and let her touch you to her liking, satisfied when she sucked and pinched them. You rode her harder and faster, chasing your own high. She yelled out your name as she neared her orgasm, tears rolling down her face.

“M-mommy, I think I’m gonna cum.” “It’s alright, can you wait for me to cum first? Can you be my good little baby and make mommy cum?” She nodded, wanting to get to her release as soon as possible. She ran her hand down to your bundle of nerves and rubbed, something she saw in a porno not long ago. When she saw your reaction her hand increased in speed as if it was on autopilot.

“Does that feel good?” She asked shyly.

“Mhm, making me feel so fucking good honey. You’re doing so good, I’m so proud of you.” She smiled slightly at your praises and moved your hips, finding your g-spot. You bit her shoulder as you came around her cock, triggering her own orgasm as well. You both rode out your highs together, her dragging you back and forth while you sucked her neck, finding her pulse point. When you accidentally moved on her lap she whimpered, still feeling sensitive from finishing twice.

You let out a small apology before asking, “Did I make your first time good?” She nodded quickly in response, making you chuckle and rest your hands on her face. Leaning in to give you a kiss, her hands found your thighs as she gripped them harshly.

“Can I make you cum again mommy?”

#wanda smut #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x fem!reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximilf #wanda fanfic #anon request #anonymous #anon ask #wanda x you

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lunarw0rks · 7 months

Note

Hi!!! I just wanna start by saying I love your writing so much. I always look forward to seeing what you share next!

Can I request a little something about reader who grew up never really having their birthday celebrated/they always downplay it. Then here comes Soap who loves nothing more than to celebrate his loves ones and reader is touched and basically almost sobs at how he genuinely enjoys making their day special🥺

This is totally not a self-indulgent ask whatsoever. If you can get to this, that'd be sweet but if not that's ok too! Have a great day💗

warning(s); sfw, fluff, hurt/comfort, pining? but still platonic by the end, military!reader, gn!reader, no use of y/n word count: 1.6k // not proofread

TRADITIONS | SOAP MACTAVISH

birthday celebrations were never on your radar, and especially not after choosing such a rugged career.

there often wasn't time for streamers and light conversation; it was anything but those things. throughout your childhood, there weren't momentous parties or cheery wishes thrown your way. it was... not much of a celebration at all.

after you grew out of your innocence, the sting of it disappeared over time. or you learned to ignore it. either way, you never expected parties, gifts, or anything alike.

it was better this way; you'd repeat to yourself.

yet, when passing a park and seeing a child's entire kin gathered to celebrate the milestone—you have that same cramp in your chest as if you hadn't aged at all.

today was akin to any other; exhausting. long hours of PT and drills, paired with new material to study, courtesy of Price. the busier the better, though, because it was less chance of your captain mentioning the big day, even in passing.

thankfully, he hadn't, nor did the rest of them.

it was the peaceful hours before official lights out, when every soldier retreated to their quarters and occupied themselves with something, or simply slept early. you sat down on the thin cot with a beat sigh, unzipping your tight boots and setting them aside—procrastinating shining them by morning.

through all the uncertainty, there's one thing you're sure of—a steamy shower. the hot beads of water cleanse you of the dirt and grime of today and its meaning.

you figure that once you get into bed and tomorrow rolls around, it'll be another birthday stifled and forgotten.

one moment, you're sitting on the edge and applying lotion to your dry and cracked hands, and next, you're startled by a knock at the door. you gazed at the digital clock on your nightstand;

10:38 PM

at this hour, what could it possibly be? with this task force, you'd been conditioned to expect anything, at any time—and that did not inspire confidence at the moment.

"it's open," you replied reluctantly, not wanting to get the doorknob greasy with lotion remnants. with a few struggling grunts, the door finally opened and closed.

his hairstyle, as recognizable as ever. "there ya are." he said with enthusiasm, in the likeness of an over-excited detective that solved a tough case.

"c'mere for a minute," he curled his fingers. despite his cheeky smile, you indulge his request. slipping off the edge, you approach him and supply only a perplexed look.

you were quickly running out of guesses, "Mactavish, what is—"

an explosion; tiny fragments falling like ash all around your body. some landed in your hair, others on your shoulders, and most on the leaden cement floor of the barracks.

you opened your eyes after they squinted from the startle. you grabbed the dainty rain, looking down and seeing rainbow confetti pieces. soap's palm was open, and he was actively chuckling at your shocked expression.

"hello, you in there? happy birthday?" he says, as a question, because you haven't had much of a reaction. to him, it probably looked like you hated the surprise.

a rush of emotions pumped through you; disbelief, gloom, and overbearing all—consolation.

warmth spread over your chest and cheeks, and you're suddenly overcome with all the feelings at once. you fumbled through a sentence, "oh, you didn't have to— really, Soap, it's... wait, how did you do the...?"

"—the confetti?" soap sneers, as if he'd been waiting for you to mention his party trick. "trick o' the palm, i can't tell ye more; it's classified."

for a few moments, you stare at one another. his beam is genuine, but yours is unsure and borderline awkward. when you're literally smacked in the face with surprise, everything feels unrefined and alien. especially birthdays.

"don't be daft, had to help you celebrate. besides, you didn't say anythin' today." lightly, he smacked your shoulder, knocking the silence from your throat.

"I just don't see the point, I guess," you reply, and soften your expression to make it known that you still appreciate the kind gesture. following, you shook off some of the confetti from your shoulders as if ridding your body of the festivities.

soap furrows his brows with genuine confusion, "in what? confetti or my presence?"

"in birthdays." you assert, a stark contrast to his playful nature. "never really celebrated one before."

his shock was authentic and obvious, pulled together with slightly agape lips, "you can't be serious— never?" you nodded, sticking to your story, because it wasn't a story at all. it was your truth. "don't you want gifts? all the attention? what about the cake?"

"it's not from a lack of trying, MacTavish. you can't exactly... want something you've never had." you scoff, looking the eager sergeant up and down.

he does the same, and his heart sinks when he senses no lies. you really aren't lying, and you really are this indifferent about your own birthday.

to him, it's completely unheard of. birthdays were some of his core memories, his own and his family back home. how could you have been deprived of that for so long, and be so... collected?

"doesn't matter where you came from, or why; you deserve a celebration."

his merriment wasn't posed as a question anymore, and you didn't want it to be either. part of you—so deep down you hadn't felt it right away—wanted to be celebrated on your special day.

all of it caught up with you at once, and without any strength to conceal it, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes. a glimpse of your damaged and long-deprived inner child, presented through a grown soldier's body.

he brought you closer, a supportive hand on the nape of your neck as you clung to him tightly. "thank you." you muttered, chin resting on his shoulder.

"aye, but it's nothing." soap pulled you back, forcing you to stare at him head on. a thumb reached up and wiped the salty tears, then smoothed over your cheek. "y'know what, I know what we've got t' do." he breathes, voice dropping to a whisper, as if concealing his idea from the world.

your face scrunched in confusion. "we?"

as if ignoring your question, he kept rambling, "you have holiday coming up. request time off, and i'll take you all the way home with me."

"all the way home?" you queried, unsure of what kind of holiday to be picture. with him, it could be anything under the blazing sun.

he slowed down his speech and affirmed, "all the way home." it dawned on you what he meant, but nothing sour arose from that idea.

"Nana, she'll put on one hell of a party for you, trust me." finally, his rambles had calmed, awaiting your reaction. it was near impossible to refuse his puppyish demeanor, the one he shifted into when he wanted something the most.

"cake?" you questioned, surprising him with almost no argument. the nonchalance had to look uncanny, considering your cheeks were still stained with streams.

he grinned with satisfaction. "aye, 'course there's cake. can't forget the streamers, and best of all—the MacTavish rugrats, and brood, in one place."

well, now that sounded more like a nightmare; your mind filled with the image of a hundred little mohawks reaping havoc on your birthday party. but in the middle of the chaos would be you and soap; the only mildly convincing part of this scheme.

"i can't expect your whole family to gather and plan a party for someone they've never met. let alone m—"

"well, actually, that's the kicker," he interjected, unveiling a new layer to his little birthday scheme. one he could've been planning for god knows how long. "Nan is having a get-together around that time, it won't be a fuss f' her."

you would be nearly stunned if it weren't for a few pressing questions. what he'd said early hit you like a ton of bricks, and now it was full-on suspicion. "wait a minute, johnny. how did you know i had holiday time?"

it all seemed too much of a coincidence. and that's because, it wasn't.

for a man trained to endure the worst kinds of torture, he cracked under the pressure almost instantly.

"may have... done some digging in Cap's office. that's how i figured out your birthday." he figured it better to rip off the bandaid preemptively than have deflected now and have you throwing him out the airplane window.

you gasped slightly, "christ, is privacy illegal in this place? actually, that probably is illegal, MacTavish, i could have you—"

"—are ye goin' with me or not?" soap interrupted.

it wasn't like you said no. just like it wasn't the first time he'd mentioned you to his family. but that was a skeleton to uncover on another day, and hopefully not during the plane ride.

you outstretched a hand, "if you're paying? a deal is a deal."

"see? wasn't so hard. besides, i know i'm hard to deny." he ran an arrogant hand through his hair, instead of shaking your hand proper.

instead of complaining, you knew just how to press his buttons. "come to think of it, johnny." you tilted your head, reading to have the last laugh.

"you have any embarrassing juvenile stories? or better yet, does Nana have any baby pictures i might like to see?" you continued, watching his haughtiness fizzle instantly.

he took a few steps back, cheeks rosy, "you know what— in two hours that birthday of yours will be over, and you know what happens then? first dibs on my knuckles, soldier."

that tells you the answer was yes.

on second thought, this was going to be a very fun excursion.

˗ˏˋ divider cred. - cafekitsune ˎˊ˗

#john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #soap x you #soap x reader #soap x y/n #soap x gn!reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap mw2 #soap mwii #mw2 #call of duty #task force 141 #mw2 fanfic

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estro-gem · 4 months

Text

Jax x Ragatha: What lurks beneath the surface

The Amazing Digital Circus AU: Oasis

Author's Note:

It's done😭 Finally...

This is the longest Oasis fic I've written and I pray that my English was good enough to NOT have as many mistakes that would distract you from the story I am trying to tell. We'll hope for the best.

Thankfully, I finished it and I'm happy with it - as spicy as it turned out and all. I could finally showcase Jax and Ragatha by allowing them a chance to share another side to both of them - Especially Ragatha! It was so much fun to lean into her character (in the Oasis canon, at least).

Warnings: Suggestive themes and flirting Hypomania/manic episodes Animal instincts/ferocity

I hope you like this one. Please enjoy!

SUMMARY:

Ragatha gifts Jax a plush that she promised to make for him. He enjoys the comfort that it brought him as well as the sentiment behind the gesture, until Ragatha reveals that the dress of the plush can be removed for him to discover a secret she added for him to find. He is plagued by strange possibilities to his dolly’s reasoning behind the design choice. He struggles to muster the courage to remove the dress – or even see reason to do so, other than quenching the thirst of his curiosity.

It’s just a doll, isn’t it?

WHAT LURKS BENEATH THE SURFACE.

“To what do I owe this pleasure, Sweetheart?”

Jax didn’t expect Ragatha to come knocking at his door. It had been a long day with a very tiring adventure from Caine. Everyone had already retired to their rooms after they’ve enjoyed a feast together. The bunny was one of the last members to leave and he had been decompressing in his room for no more than an hour, until he was – as he considered – rudely disturbed.

Seeing Ragatha, however, made him curious enough to be more forgiving. She wasn’t one to knock at such a late hour… unless she had something to hide and oh, Jax loved a good secret!

Especially ones he could exploit in the future.

So Jax rested his forearm at the level of his eyes to lean against the doorframe as his free hand pushed the door open wider than before. Instead of answering, Ragatha walked up to him, keeping her eye locked with his as she invaded his personal space. Just as Jax had a flicker of uncertainty that she was getting too close, the doll smoothly strode right passed him without even touching or brushing against him. She broke eye contact at the last second and entered his room, while he was struck frozen by surprise.

Cheeky little-

“You’ve got some nerve, Dollface.” He said, masking his flustered state with a smug grin and a raised eyebrow, “I don’t remember ever saying that you are welcome to come inside.”

He turned around to find his doll smiling as if she was the cat that stole the cream. He took a moment to just silently appreciate her showing him this different side to her, as it was a side that she reserved for very rare, specific and special occasions.

Confident, sassy and letting her actions do the talking.

Dangerously silent.

Delicious.

“Are we playing games, Darling?” Jax shut the door behind him, not once looking away from her smug grin that perfectly matched his, before slowly sauntering towards her, “We can play anything you like…”

Rather than to humor him and say something snarky for him to play of off, his dolly knelt and proceeded to grab at her dress skirt to bunch it up on her lap.

“Woah, WOAH, Sweets! Calm down!” Jax eyes went wide, dropping his façade completely at the sight of Ragatha intending to lift her skirts. With his character completely broken, his ears pulled back and he averted the gaze of his shrunken pupils as a very prominent blush bloomed onto his cheeks.

“Would you relax?” Ragatha chided with a bubbly laugh, “…and shame on you for having your mind in the gutter!”

Jax almost scoffed in disbelief, but didn’t dare to look her way, uncomfortably shifting on his feet, “Ya waltz in here, makin’ eyes at me! Next thing ya know, ya here on my floor and pullin’ up you dress! Whaddaya think, I’m gonna assume ya wanna play cards or somethin’? Geez, Raggs!”

His heart soared at the sound of Ragatha’s laughter intensifying as he rambled on. He had the sneaking suspicion that she really liked his dialect when he was riled up. He tried to put a damper on it whenever he could, but sometimes he just couldn’t stop himself – especially when he was caught off guard.

If it meant that he could have his doll laughing as much as she had, he didn’t mind it too much.

“Oh, Jax…” she sighed, followed by more chuckles as she laughed, “I hid something under my skirt. Don’t worry!”

“Yeah, I’d like ta think that we all hide somethin’ in our pants, Dolly.” Jax quipped without missing a beat.

“I tie a string of wool around my waist and then I tie that to a bag that dangles at my knees, Honey.” Ragatha dismissed with an airy laugh.

The doll fumbled with a large, brown paper bag she had to waddle down the hall. When she managed to untie the top, she opened the bag to reveal a box wrapped with a disheveled red bow. It was a wonder that she managed to walk so naturally with it knocking against her legs, but years of practice taught her well.

She noticed Jax tapping his foot impatiently, still not looking at her, making her smile to herself. It didn’t matter how much he tried to hide it; he was still a good man at heart.

It was a shame that he had to do the wrong things for the right reasons.

“I’m decent for show, Honey. I always was… just so you know.” She said while standing up to present the box. She remembered what he previously said and sought the opportunity to milk her teasing just a little longer, “What are you hiding in your pants, Jax?”

“Hey, I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” Jax mused suggestively as he peeked with a glance from the side when he was cleared by Ragatha to do so.

The doll gasped dramatically, “And here I thought you were a gentleman!”

“Ugh, please!” Jax approached his doll before resting a hand on his hip, “I’ll have ya know that ‘Chivalry’ is my middle name.”

“If that’s the case, we’re all doomed.”

The brief silence was eventually broken by the sounds of the couple barely containing their snorts, until they burst into fits of laughter. It was so hysterical, that Ragatha almost dropped the box, causing her to juggle and fumble with it in the air; eye wide until she caught it with a firm grip. Jax practically died at the sight, pointing and laughing with new vigor. The doll helplessly chose to laugh at her own clumsiness.

Finally, when the laughter died down, Jax looked at Ragatha and saw her face glowing the glee. In another life, he would have loved to make her laugh whenever possible. He would be her safe space that would never have to lay a hand on her, unless he wanted to see her smile, laugh, gasp or sigh in joy and pleasure.

But here, he was chained to the slavery of hurting everyone out of obligation.

Stop thinking about that!

“That’s a good look on you, Raggs.” Jax commented right after she chose to break eye contact to look down to the wrapped box she was still holding.

“You don’t look too shabby either.” She held out the box for him to take, but he just idly stood to look at it; hesitantly. He was a lot more expressive when they were alone.

“I didn’t get you anything.”

The doll just shook her head with a little huff, “You made me laugh.” She blushed, looking away, but fiddled with the ribbon wrapped around the box, “You make me laugh... and you never ask me for anything! I love that I could give you something you actually wanted for once.”

His dolly grew bold enough to look up to him, despite her little rosy blush. He focused on keeping his face neutral, despite feeling conflicted about accepting a genuine gift. Ragatha didn’t stop insisting for him to take it, “Please… just look at it? You can do whatever you want with it afterwards, but just take one look. Please?”

“Don’t beg, darlin’.” Jax suddenly said, as if a switch was flipped, as his aura shifted to take on a darker tone, “It’s unbecoming.”

Please beg for me to take you instead…

Silencing the confusing thoughts that clouded his mind, he stepped forward and held out his hands, only for Ragatha to step forward and lightly push the box against his chest. He took the sides of the present and met Ragatha’s eye. She was fixated on his gaze as she trailed her hand down her side on the box, before slowly turning around and walking to the door.

That doll would be the death of him.

“Where’d ya think you’re goin’, Sweetheart?” He asked coolly, making no move to trail behind her – even as she opened his door.

Just before closing the door behind her, she looked back one last time. The ragdoll sported that confident, cheeky grin again and Jax suddenly wanted nothing more than to make her melt.

“I’m giving you some privacy.” Ragatha gifted him one last sweet smile and closed the door as she left, not giving him a chance to answer, “Goodnight Honey.”

Silence.

Anticipation.

Curiosity.

Jax decided to sit on his bed before untying the ribbon. A small part of his mind giggled at the fact that Ragatha could walk with such a bulky object knocking against her knees. Another silent thought whispered into his mind, feeding his curiosity regarding all the things his doll managed to sneak around by hiding it beneath her skirt.

Her waters ran deeper than he thought – not that he was complaining.

Wasting no time, the bunny plucked the lid off the box, but froze on the spot at the sight of a familiar face that greeted him. The lid fell from his grasp.

His heart squeezed painfully in his chest.

About the length of his forearm, a little, redheaded ragdoll in a blue dress was staring up at him. Other than the fact that the little doll was plusher, it was the spitting image of Ragatha. It had the same red locks, the same blue dress with the darker patches and the same face of his doll – embroidered to capture to picture of her face exactly – save for the blue button stitched to represent her missing right eye, just as there was one in reality.

It was perfect.

His mind flashed back to an encounter he shared with Ragatha a few weeks ago. Them, sitting on the lone couch, with him just enjoying the sight of his dolly so focused on her very… flattering… project. How tempted he was to mess with her, but his attention was held captive by the precision, skill and progress she was making.

Maybe he was vexed by the doll’s sentiment to even think of making something that resembled him.

A monster.

The rabbit took the plush doll in his hands and admired it once again, before slowly drawing it to his chest and wrapping his arms around it in a soft embrace. It wasn’t his intention, but Ragatha’s scent invaded his senses, causing his hold on the doll to tighten.

It was not sentient or breathing, with skin or senses. It was lifeless and thoughtless, with no intention of ever reaching out to him. It just existed – made for the times he sought comfort whenever he wanted. It could provide a comfort he was cursed to loathe when receiving it from others who actually cared for him.

What a wonderful gift his precious little dolly had given him.

That night, he collapsed onto his bed, cradling the plush closely as he became intoxicated by his angel’s scent. He had no nightmares or worries that withheld him from sleep. He simply existed in the presence of something that his beloved had made for him.

He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so loved.

He couldn’t remember the last time he overslept.

Jax overslept.

“Jax?” a worried voice cried out from the other side of his door, along with insistent banging that caused him to fly straight up. “Are you okay?! Jax?”

He stumbled to the door and fumbled to unlock it, as she wouldn’t be able to hear him from the inside. He didn’t have the time to pull the door open, as a great force crashed the door right into him and caused him to be launched back with a yelp. The pain to his face caused his vision to blur, but he could clearly see the shape of his ragdolly hunched over and panting in his doorway.

“Ow! Talk about a wake-up call.” Jax said as he was blinking to clear his vision.

“Jax…” her voice drew his attention in an instant. He didn’t like it one bit. She sounded terrified.

She sounded relieved.

“Hey, Sweetheart.” he cooed as he stood up and the sting subsided, “I’m right here.”

“Jax.” Ragatha said again, seemingly stuck on his name, “You…”

She stood frozen, blinking multiple times before she shook her head and perked up uncomfortably fast, “You’re late, silly!”

“Raggs…?” Jax spoke carefully and approached her, as if she was a startled animal, “Don’t do that with me.”

Her unsettling smile remained stuck on her face as she looked over his form for any obvious injuries, “Heh, sorry about bumping into you earlier! It’s not common that you sleep in! Why were you-”

Silence.

So intense, that not even an explosion would muffle it.

Her smile was dropped as her eyes suddenly widened. Jax, startled by the sharp continuous shifts in Ragatha’s expression, followed her line of sight to see what caused her sudden reaction. He followed it slowly, until he was met with the little ragdoll plush that was still miraculously clutched tightly in his hand. He stood there like a frightened toddler, holding his favourite toy, but he didn’t feel ashamed about it.

There wasn’t time that; his dolly needed help.

“I… had a great cuddle-buddy.” He started slowly, watching her reactions very closely as he stood closer, “I didn’t want our snuggle-session to end so soon, so I laid here for a little longer.”

He was jesting, but it was gentle and benign. The rabbit could still help her choose to drop her guard if he played his cards right. He just knew he could.

“You like her…” she said in a foreign monotone, “You slept with her…”

“Like a baby.” He chuckled briefly, before unveiling his true emotions by holding the doll up to look at it dearly, “She’s perfect.”

The rabbit allowed his eyes to flick back up to Ragatha, then repeating what he had said, hoping that his dolly would understand, “Perfect.”

Ragatha slowly treaded her way back to reality, helplessly succumbing to the little, somber smile that crept up the corners of her mouth, “I’m glad you like her.”

“Heh,” Jax genuinely huffed, “Only you would think that someone calling someone else ‘perfect’ only means that they kinda like them.”

Huh…

Ragatha meant to question him on what he said, but Kinger screaming about the practicality of duffle-bags distracted the couple beyond recovery.

Before leaving to join the others, Jax made a quick stop to his bed, to rest the plush against his pillow, “Can’t risk her getting ruined in an adventure. We still got plans for tonight!”

“Oh really?” Ragatha mused, though she seemed tamer than she was with her previous fake optimism.

“Oh yeah. No going back now!” Jax said, nudging the ragdoll with his elbow as they walked down the hall.

“I was going to ask if I was invited, but I wouldn’t want to keep you two from doing whatever it is that couples do when they are alone in bed.”

“Aw, there she is! Welcome back Raggs!” Jax laughed, causing the doll to chuckle along with him. He looked over to her with a little hint of seriousness, “But seriously though, we are keeping it clean, Dollface. I mean, it’s a doll.”

Ragatha stopped, alarming Jax to do the same, ready to pull back his statement in case he went too far with his jokes.

Ragatha beat him to it, “Wait, you didn’t take off the dress? Didn’t you notice that it could be removed?”

Jax didn’t know how to react to that.

On the one hand, she could be joking – in a way that he, in turn, would consider as ‘too far.’ On the other hand, she could be serious, opening an entirely different can of worms. Based on her shocked expression at the fact that he didn’t undress a plush, he could only believe that the latter was true.

It horrified him with its implications.

“Ragatha.” Jax said, not missing the way she twitched at the use of her full name, “Why would you expect me to undress a plush?”

Ragatha fumbled to answer, but her face lit up like a Christmas tree, “Don’t put it like that!”

“How else do you want me to put it?” Jax asked, bewildered, lowering his voice down to a hissed whisper, “Why would I need ta undress ya? Is it because ya think that’s what I want? Is that how little ya think of me?”

“Jax, stop.” Ragatha said sternly. He reluctantly obeyed for her to speak, “It’s nothing of the sort, it’s something else. I added a hidden… feature… with the hope that you’d find it on your own.”

“It still sounds weird, Raggs.”

“It’s not, I swear!” Ragatha exclaimed, “I thought you’d know that ragdolls often have their bodies be a different colour fabric; to represent the bodice of the dress, instead of making an entirely separate dress, like I did. I also thought that it would’ve been enough of a clue to look beneath the fabric since I showed you how I hide things beneath my skirt. There’s nothing funny about it!

Jax still looked skeptical, but seeing his dolly that upset, softened his heart a little more than he wanted to admit.

Ragatha pleaded one last time, hoping to have justified herself enough, “I just thought that it would be a special little secret for you to find.”

Jax sighed, but relented eventually, “Fine, but I’m not happy about this.”

“Just trust me on this!” Ragatha insisted gently, “So you’re going to look, right?”

“I’d rather you just tell me and be done with it.” Jax huff, folding his arms and turning away from her. He heatedly glared over his shoulder to flick his eye from her feet to her face, “You know I don’t only want you for those types of reasons, right?”

Ragatha wanted to protest her stance on being innocent with her intentions, but his words caused her heart to melt. She cleared her throat, choosing not to say anything to humor his last question, “If you want to know, you’ll just have to see for yourself, Honey. It’s already a shame that I ruined my plans for you to find it by your own accord.”

“Come on, Doll!” Jax whined, thankfully moving passed the other matter, “I’m dying here! I can’t wait until tonight – I don’t even know if I wanna do what needs to be done to even find out. I don’t care how innocent ya think it is, IT’S WEIRD!”

“Then suffer.” Ragatha shrugged as they finally joined the rest on the crew, leaving Jax perplexed.

That woman…

It appeared that it was going to be a long day for Jax.

It was a long day for Jax.

The curiosity was nipping at the edges of his mind throughout the day. The bunny hardly focused throughout the adventure – not even his disregard for Pomni could distract him. It didn’t help that Ragatha wasn’t making things easier for him, as she would knowingly smirk at him when he dared to glance at her. Occasionally, the doll would giggle to herself, only riling him up more.

What additionally tore Jax apart, was that he didn’t know how to feel about stripping the plush from its dignity by undressing it. It was a doll, sure, but it was a doll that looked like Ragatha, it felt perverted and indecent.

When the long day came to an end, Jax fought between sprinting to his room as fast as his legs could carry him, versus stalling to avoid having the plush taunt him with it’s secrets altogether. It became an odd mixture of the two, where Jax tried to cut any conversations short that stalled him from progressing down the hall, but taking the time to stop and talk to whomever was willing to keep him from reaching his room to soon.

His odd mannerisms caused suspicion to arise among the group, especially Gangle, who always seemed to catch on.

Those cursed observation skills…

Finally, the rabbit entered his room and locked the door behind him. Just to be safe.

The doll was just laying there as it almost expectantly stared at him. It was mocking him; he just knew it! The bunny hated to admit that his mouth was suddenly feeling dry at the thought of even just touching it. He glared at it, silently cursing Ragatha for thinking that the whole situation was a good idea.

Because it wasn’t.

He took a breath and willed himself to march to his bedside, sit down and firmly hold the doll in his lap. It smiled with glee, and he scrunched up his nose while averting his gaze to gather his courage. It all felt wrong on so many levels! He really hated how curious he was to know what hidden gem his dolly had waiting for him. Yes, he was nervous, but…

He trusted Ragatha.

Jax was just going to be a man and push through his hesitation, he thought to himself. The doll felt like it was burning through his gloves, but he still preferred that above anyone else touching him. Jax looked down to his yellow gloves; and an idea slowly crept from the depths of his mind. With mild distaste, the rabbit flexed his fingers to summon his terrible claws, that pierced though the yellow fabric as a hot knife would cut into butter.

Jax’s ability to feel, was muddled through his claws, since they were not equipped with the sensory ability to perceive touch as well as his fingertips were. He could only feel the dull pressure sinking down onto his fingertips whenever he used them – willingly or unwillingly. He felt a little less guilty while implementing his idea as his very gently used the very points of the ebony tips to hold and maneuver the plush.

The bunny noticed a three little buttons on the back of the doll’s dress. He gently pinched at the blue dress’s fabric and lightly tugged at it, only confirming that the dress was able to be removed. He struggled to maneuver his claws in attempt to open the back of the dress without ripping the fabric, but he managed.

Agonizingly slow…

Finally, the buttons were loose. All that was left to do, was to pull the entire dress over the doll’s head. He still felt uncomfortable just… stripping the doll like a perverted freak, so he did the only other thing he could think of.

Pinch his eyes shut.

Blinded and with a heavy sigh, the rabbit struggled to fully remove the dress from the doll, while still being mindful of his sharp claws. It was a pain – the whole process became so frustrating that he just thought about giving up and saving the private adventure for another day.

But somehow, the plush was finally freed from her blue coverage and Jax just sat in silence, wondering for one last time whether it was the right decision to indulge in Ragatha’s twisted game.

Damn it…

It’s just a doll.

As curiosity won the dispute against shame, Jax hesitantly opened his eyes that were previously pinched shut. Slowly, as light broke passed his eyelids, the blurry vision of the mostly milky fabric that represented the doll’s skin, focused into a clear image of the doll’s bare torso as it’s little face patiently smiled up at him.

All thoughts left Jax’s mind as soon as he comprehended the sight the rested within his grasp. It stole the air from his lungs that grew still as he stopped breathing entirely. A wave of emotion washed over him, but he stood firm and frozen with the overwhelming shock that struck his mind – his soul – to a state of all-consuming numbness.

His hands started trembling, but the man remained silent.

On the chest of the ragdoll-plush, the pale fabric was harshly interrupted by the image of a small, purple heart in the very center. It was neatly threaded to the doll’s chest, in such a way that the stitch pattern of the thread wasn’t obvious to the eye. The only way that Jax could tell that the heart was indeed threaded to the doll and not just a part of the fabric’s print, was the very neat seam that revealed small purple stitches when the fabrics was pulled into the opposite directions.

Jax didn’t know much about needlework, but there was no doubt in his mind that the heart wasn’t just a patch that was stitched atop the pale torso. No. The purple heart was very much a part of the fabric that kept the stuffing from spilling out.

Without the heart, there would be a hole that would expose the plush’s inner content.

Without the purple heart, the stuffing would spill out from the doll, and it would be nothing but an empty, fabric shell.

The purple heart was a part of the doll.

When his vision became blurry, the bunny was suddenly taken aback by his uncontrolled breathing as well as the tears crawling down his cheeks. He hugged the undressed doll against his heart without a care in the world. All that mattered was him holding his dolly with a heart adorned with his colour. Falling to his knees, Jax mind was consumed by thoughts of Ragatha and her precious gift to him. The rabbit compulsively rubbed his neck and chin over the doll’s red locks, only stopping to nuzzle into the ragdoll’s chest.

A possessive blade struck into his cold, dead heart. Jax no longer had tears that spilled form his golden orbs. His dolly dried them, as she often did – because she was his. Only his.

His, as she always was and always will be.

And in kind, he was hers.

Only Ragatha could bring him to his knees like this. He’d kneel to only her, as if she was his queen. He knew, in that instance, that it would only be a matter of moments before she would kneel before him – to join him at his level as his equal.

Then, Jax would not rest until the entire universe was brought down beneath her. He’d destroy whatever it takes, he’d break whatever he saw fit, and he would crush and torture every soul that would ever dare to hurt her.

Because only he could hurt her – Jax would make sure of it.

No one else would do it right.

No one else would take care NOT to break her as he always made sure to do.

No one else would read her as he did.

No one else would care for her needs as he did.

No one else would do anything to her, because he would never allow them to.

Not only because he was the snake, but because he was HER MONSTER.

He was hers.

And at that moment, her monster craved to drown within her.

Jax held the plush back to admire it once again. It was hers, but it wasn’t her. He wanted her and he wanted her now.

NOW.

In a flash, Jax was moving.

He didn’t know how he made it through his locked door to mindlessly claw at Ragatha’s, like a dog, but he ended up doing just that. Jax was too far gone to even think about the keys he left in his door before sprinting down the hall. No words left his lips – only little desperate grunts escaped him as his claws sprouted fine wooden spirals from his dolly’s door. It was inhuman to say the least.

And that’s why Gangle lunged at him without a second thought.

She happened to be in the hall to witness his descent into his animalistic nature. Shivers crawled up her ribbonoid form at the beastly sight of Jax’s blown pupils and ungraceful, jagged movements. He didn’t even acknowledge that she was there, so it became clear that Jax was experiencing one of his occasional manic episodes.

It didn’t happen all that often, but based on her experience, Gangle could tell that she would not be able to get through to him with mere words.

Her ribbons served her well as powerful restraints. Since she had the element of surprise on her side, Gangle was able to wrap herself swiftly and strategically around each of Jax’s wrists, as well as bind his powerful legs together, causing him to fall face first into the door, then onto the floor.

The rabbit, caught off guard, thrashed and screamed in a manner that no human ever could. He managed to slice one of her ribbons down the long length, only to have the 3 finer streaks of ribbon become their own independent tendrils that reenforced the grip Gangle had on Jax. It hurt, but there was very little that Jax could do to make Gangle stop.

It wasn’t the first time she had to restrain him, after all.

“What’s going on out there?!” rang Ragatha’s alarmed voice from the other side of the door as it creaked open by a mere slit for her voice to rush through.

“Stay put and lock the door.” Gangle ordered, her softer voice firm as a blade that sliced through any question to oppose her order. She constricted her grasp around Jax’s neck to manually muffle his senseless howls of protest and discomfort. Gangle also took note of how his pupils dilated impossibly wide at the sound of Ragatha’s voice. He fought with a greater vigor and tried to reach out to the door.

It, then, became clear to Gangle, that the bunny didn’t act out in anger, but in what appear to be a type of desire that he very rarely expressed.

“Gangle? What’s happening-?”

“Be quiet.” Gangle spat out as Jax only ceaselessly continued to struggle against her. His aggressive thrashing became desperate and distressed. The door shut after a few seconds of hesitance on Ragatha’s part. The doll knew her place.

There was nothing she could do now.

“You’ll scare her like this, Bunny.” The ribbonoid hissed into the wild rabbit’s ears, causing him to tense up and shiver. Despite Jax’s immeasurably greater tolerance for the ribbonoid’s touch, he still had his limits – limits that only Gangle had managed to push as far as he was willing to allow. Boundaries were thrown out the window a long time ago, for they both no longer regarded each other’s boundaries. They had no choice, as it was within their roles and owl and snake.

Boundaries were crossed too long ago for either of them to care.

“Mine.” Jax forced out as soon as Gangle remembered to loosen the grip she had enforced around his neck. He turned his face to look at the mask of the sentient ribbon, eyes filled with desperation, “Mine.”

“I know, Bunny. I know.” She almost cooed when she felt him burst into untamable trembling, clearly stumbling his way back to reality, “But there’s a better way to go about this. You need to control yourself.”

Jax could only blink a few times, trying to ground himself. He stopped to look down with a defeated sigh and leaned his head down to ungraciously plop his forehead against the forehead of the theatrical mask. She welcomed his gesture, by leaning back into him and closing her eyes.

They savoured the moment as the world grew quiet, sharing breaths to calm themselves.

Jax remained as he was as Gangle slowly opened her eyes again, not willing to risk being unaware for too long. Her dear friend looked worse for wear, but much better in comparison to a few minutes ago. If it wasn’t for a distant movement that caught the ribbon’s attention, the newfound peace would have led the pair to Gangle’s room in a gentler manner…

But the sight of a little jester who stood a while’s way across the hall, caused the girl to rip her ribbons from Jax - bristling up like a threatened raptor. The ribbons danced and scurried high above her head in an impressive display, causing sounds of fabric slithering and fluttering to pierce the silence. Pomni jolted at the sight of the previously meek and timid character being so intentionally disapproving towards her. It was so unsettling, that the jester took a step back.

Her movement jump-started a series of chaotic, spasmic events that could only be found in a horror movie.

In the blink of an eye, before Jax could turn his head to see what caught Gangle’s attention, the previously bristling ribbons sliced through the air to grab Jax where-ever they could grip; and rapidly dragged the purple character down the hall at inhuman speed. The only trace that Pomni managed to register for her to realize that she wasn’t hallucinating what she saw, was the blinking light reflecting on the ends of the ribbons the slithered through the remaining gap in Gangle’s door, right before it slammed shut.

The little fool blinked and recovered quickly, as she was forced to do since she found herself trapped.

The soft creak of Ragatha’s door caught her attention. The Ragdoll’s face hung lower than usual, causing the red locks to shield her face. The fool blamed the light reflecting the red, glowing hue of her hair onto her face, because there was no way that she would be bashful in the given circumstances.

Right?

Ragatha stepped outside and jumped at the sight of Pomni, then feverishly looked around the hall. She paused in confusion before she shook her head once to face the fool, who just opted to turn her face to the freshly carved scratch marks on the doll’s door. While Pomni’s face fell at the sight, Ragatha’s expression remained unbothered.

It was unnerving.

“Is this really what you consider Jax caring in his own special little ways?” the jester asked skeptically – almost rhetorically – as she recalled Ragatha’s words from a previous encounter.

“You wouldn’t understand.” The doll spoke in that cursed monotone that Pomni quickly learnt to hate, “We are all one minor inconvenience away from going insane. I told you that before. Besides, out of all of us, he’s literally the animal. The urges and instincts do things to you, you know…”

The silence that followed, stretched down the hall. The girls simply stood in front of the door and looked over the ugly trenches Jax had left in the wood. It wasn’t until much later that Pomni gently pierced through the stillness with a strangely steady quip of morbid curiosity.

“Didn’t you also say that Gangle and Zooble were romantically involved? She seemed very close to Jax just then-”

“Those two are intimately close, you saw correctly.” Ragatha interrupted, finally easing up her tone as a fond, little smile grew on her face, “Zooble and I are aware – we encourage it. They are very good for each other.”

Pomni almost got whiplash with how fast she swung her head to look to the doll, “Intimate? Do you mean- do they…? Are they-?”

“Intimate; nothing odd going on there, New Stuff! Friends.” The doll clarified with a chuckle, “Very good friends with a very strange, deep connection. There’s nothing more to tell – not that it’s really our business.”

“So. it wouldn’t bother Zooble that they are alone in Gangle’s room?”

Ragatha’s eyes lit up, “Oh! That’s where they are… And no, it doesn’t bother anyone when two of us wants some time alone with each other. Jax clearly needs a shoulder, I mean, just look at my door!”

Pomni sighed heavily.

It was a relief to hear the ragdolly act ‘normal’ again, but it felt like she was growing more confused as she learned more and more about her surrounding circus mates. The sooner she earned Gangle’s trust, the better. The claw marks on Ragatha’s door made Pomni want to avoid Jax for as long as she possibly could, lest she’d risk to randomly be mauled by a spontaneously feral rabbit.

Yet again, something new for Pomni to be weary of.

“Ragatha?” Pomni asked hesitantly, “Do you think I can do this?”

No context was given, but the doll could comprehend the true question that the jester was asking - she answered as honestly as she could.

“I believe that you can.” She said softly as she looked to the little fool, who’s eyes were occupied; tracing the marks on the door, “…but it will always depend on how much you want to make it work.”

“We don’t really have a choice, do we?” Pomni tore away her gaze on the door to peer up at Ragatha, who chose to remain silent.

No need to answer something that wasn’t intended as a question.

Oasis: TADC AU list

Masterlist

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fandomfluffandfuck · 7 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/hiwitch/76340626481

just want to preface that i am overcome with horny thots abt seb getting his teeth checked out, fingers getting all over that lil snaggletooth he has, pulling out his plump lip that seb likes to bite when he's self-conscious abt them... just wanna shove some digits in there, keep his mouth open and drooling y'know? 🥵

[Link] to a gif of a guy standing there, having his teeth/gums examined by someone else. You can't see the other person, just their hand and forearm coming into the gif.

I 👏🏻 love 👏🏻 this 👏🏻 idea 👏🏻

Suddenly, I am struck with an AU idea... Chris' dad is a dentist, yeah? Sebastian has an oral fixation, yes? Sebastian's had his teeth fixed... you see where I'm going with this, huh?

I'm not taking requests right now, but I couldn't help myself... 👀

Sebastian moves to a new area, his old dentist retires, his usual denist doesn't specialize in teeth aesthetics (straightening, whitening, etc.), or whatever you want to imagine happens happens. But, either way, Sebastian is in need of a new dentist. So. Enter Chris Evans.

Dentist Chris Evans.

The most fucking handsome man Sebastian has ever fucking seen. Let alone the most handsome dentist he's ever laid eyes on. It makes Sebastian's appointment the best, worst experience of his life. The dental hygienist was lovely, lively, and happy; talking to him as if their hands weren't in his mouth and he could actually respond. The usual in a positive way. But this...

This man standing in front of him is not the usual.

He knocks on the separating wall between this little dental area and the next, asking the hygienist, "you ready for me?"

They hum, "yup, just one second," finishing up.

And Sebastian gets exactly half a second to panic before the dentist--Chris, the hottest man he's ever seen in his life--sits down on the stool the hygienist was just sitting in. Close enough to touch. Jesus. He's gonna touch him.

God.

Not like that.

But--

In his dreams.

Sebastian tries to hide his shiver, je can't entirely. But, either way, if he notices or not, Chris is just as friendly and lively, maybe even more so, introducing himself as "Chris" rather than "Mr. Evans" or "doctor of dentistry Evans" or anything reasonable. Just his first name. It's a good name. He's so fucking handsome that Sebastian is happy he can't gurgle out any sort of response, as excused by his hands in his mouth.

His... very, very large hands.

Thick fingers.

Long fingers.

Wide palms.

Biiiig hands.

Big but gentle as he examines his mouth and the hygienist's work.

Sebastian can't open his mouth wide enough, and Chris' hands are too large for his tongue not to rest against some part of his hand as the exam stretches on. Sebastian feels strangely embarrassed about it. He doesn't want to--

He does want to lick his hand.

But he shouldn't be!

It's harassment!

He shouldn't be licking his new fucking dentist's hands!

Sebastian is shaken out of his gay panic by Chris' equally handsome voice, "you bite your lips a lot?" He searches through the little tray of tools at his side. Rustling around.

"Uh," Sebastian flounders, "yes? How did you--should I, should I not? Am I being," he coughs, "doing. Am I doing something b--" Seb cuts himself off before he says 'bad.' He. No. He doesn't need to think about being bad or good right now. Not right now when he's on his back, and he couldn't possibly hide--

No.

Especially not in these pants.

Shit.

"Your lips are very red," Chris explains, shrugging one shoulder and finally selecting another little tool.

"Oh." Sebastian swears he sees the dentist's blue eyes dark down to his lips, getting stuck there, and swallowing thickly. Seb has to restrain from biting his bottom lip again now. "Okay?"

"Try not to," Chris teases, drumming his fingers against his shoulder. Friendly. "You wouldn't wanna hurt yourself."

Sebastian feels himself flush hot. He's being friendly. It's endearing. This is a good, happy atmosphere. Any undertone in his smooth, deep voice is a projection from Sebastian.

This is his job.

This is his job, Sebastian reminds himself. His propensity for handsome men, big and tall, and their commanding voices and imposing looks and slipping their fingers (and other things) in his mouth should not be brought into this place of professionalism.

Fuck.

"Open for me?" Chris interrupts his thoughts again. Good fucking thing.

Thoughtlessly, Sebastian obeys.

"Hm..." Chris' eyebrows pull together behind the frames of his glasses, "a little wider." He waits for Sebastian to obey listen. "Good. Thank you."

Sebastian burns hotter.

He closes his eyes for a blink but ends up someonewhere else. He's not laid back on a dentist's chair. He's laid back on a bed with his head hanging off the edge of the mattress, mouth open for inspecting, possessive fingers testing his gag reflex and admiring his pink, wet tongue and the velvet-soft insides of his cheeks before sliding his cock in. In his mouth. Down his throat. Choking him. Making him cry.

Fuck.

Sebastian tries to swallow the excess saliva suddenly pooling in his mouth with his mouth wide open, Chris' hand still in his mouth. He chokes. Chris backs off and pats his shoulder, dimly telling him to take his time and apologizing while Seb turns redder and redder and boils alive in his heated embarrassment.

Once his coughing fit is over from his actual drool going down the wrong pipe, Chris tells him, "you have really nice teeth, by the way. Can I ask why you're here interested in straightening. That was it, right? Sorry, I only briefly got to look over your chart."

"Uh, it's okay. Th-thanks," Sebastian is apparently not going to stop blushing any time soon. "They're crooked, though."

Chris shrugs, "nothing wrong with crooked teeth unless they're causing you pain." He looks around conspiratorial, when he finds that the dentail hygienist has made themself scarce, he whispers, "I'm not supposed to say it, but I happen to think crooked teeth are cute."

Is--

Is he being hit on?

Sebastian nearly squeaks as he says, "really!?"

"Yeah," Chris offers easily, "they've got character."

They look at each other for a moment. Sebastian is... captivated. He's so goddamn attractive.

"Yours aren't hurting you, right?"

He totally is hitting on him. He has to be! Yours as in your cute crooked teeth! Right!?

"No?" Sebastian should know he's not hurting because of his teeth, but he can't help but cower wonderfully under his authority. So, it comes out as a question.

"That's great!" Chris says, "oo, what's the story then?"

"I, uh," Seb stutters, "I'm on camera a lot."

Chris raises an eyebrow, a mischievous look in his eyes, "camera, huh?"

Sebastian covers his face with his hand, he's blushing so hard that he's melting in this fucking dentist chair. This is how he dies. "I'm an actor," he clarifies. Or. No. That makes it worse. "Not that kind of actor," he says in a rush.

Chris laughs with him, pleasant. "Well," he shrugs, "you never know with the characters we get around here."

There's an undertone with how his gaze lingers on Sebastian... like maybe Chris thinks he has the looks of someone who's on camera in that way. That kind of actor. A porn actor. Sebastian is flustered but not really because flustered is an understatement.

"So," Chris goes back to his examination, "actor, huh?" Sebastian struggles to make any sort of affirmative sound. He's struggling to breathe. He's struggling not to take the familiar sensations of fingers in his mouth and suck. Chris is so handsome, and he keeps touching him. Right now, he's dragging his fingertips over Sebastian's gums under his top lip, "I assume you'll be interested in whiting, too? Not that you need it."

Sebastian barely nods.

"Actor..." Chris murmurs to himself, "I'd ask you what I've maybe seen you in, but I don't think I've seen you in anything. I don't want a ton of TV or movies and--"

Sebastian must imagine the feeling because he, he swears he can feel Chris stroke his index finger down the inside of his cheek.

Oh, God.

"I would've remembered a face like yours."

Oh. God.

Sebastian is absolutely hallucinating sensations. Chris did not--he did not press two fingers down in the flat of his tongue.

Unless--

Sebastian makes a mortifying, mortifying sound. A little whimper.

"I think..." Chris pulls his fingers from his mouth, a string of saliva connecting Sebastian to the blue latex over his thick fingers. He removes them with a sharp snap, snap, exposing his veined, wide hands with just the appropriate amount of hair. How is there an appropriate amount of body hair?

What?

"I think the plan for you will be to come back in and see my colleague so he can set you up with invisalign and a few whiting sessions. Nothing major."

"Y-your colleague?" Sebastian stutters, he should sit up, but he's not--

He feels like he's spinning. He's maybe, maybe not hallucinating being hit on. So--

"Yeah. I," is it his imagination, or is Chris blushing? "I would rather not see you professionally again--"

Professionally?

"--Because, and I'm sorry if this is presumptuous, but I would rather see you somewhere more casual, maybe a coffee shop? Maybe dinner?"

"Um," Sebastian thought he was blushing before, it doesn't hold a candle to whatever the fuck redness must be staining his cheeks now, "anything?"

Chris grins, wide, "perfect."

Sebastian can't help but match his dopey expression.

So, Sebastian goes home with the number of very, very attractive dentist and a place and time for their first date. However, he so doesn't go home and fist himself desperately, on his knees, next to his bed like he's praying before he goes to bed, mouth wide open, moaning, imagining Chris' touch slipping between his lips, fingers warm and slick but much less gentle and definitely not covering with the thin, thin barrier of latex. Seb doesn't want anything between them.

Seb wants to taste Chris on his tongue. He wants him to hold his jaw in those big, hands. He wants to know every curve and crease of his hands. He wants to feel him curl his fingers and tug on his teeth. He wants him to stroke the inside of his cheeks. To circle his lips, tugging at them. To press into his gums. To press down on his tongue. To gag him. To choke him. To make him drool. To try to make one of those huge hands fold into a fist inside his mouth, stretching his lips, forcing tears from his eyes, and making him shake with pleasure. He loves having his mouth full. And he has the feeling that Chris' hands are not the only thing that would stretch his lips, make him choke, and open his jaw wiiide.

Guh.

#asks #fandomfluffandfuck #chris evans #sebastian stan #evanstan #rpf #real person fanfiction #sub seb #subastian stan #sub sebastian #gentle dom chris #teeth

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roo-bastmoon · 11 months

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Roo is a bit of a party pooper here. (But Roo does not poop at parties.)

A GENTLE WORD OF CAUTION REGARDING STREAMS, ALBUMS, and SYMBOLS

First and foremost, streams are dropping like hell this weekend. So please run playlists on all possible devices (I'll put links at the bottom of this post). PLEASE DO NOT NEGLECT STREAMING as we are in the red.

Of course we need to focus on Angel right now. However, Like Crazy, Face, and Jimin himself are predicted to be nominated for song, best album, and artist of the year for MAMA. Actual trophy awards at a broadcast year-end award show! But the digital points are low for song and album, so we need to work on CONSISTENT global streaming for Jimin in addition to all our boys every single day!

Second, a Naver article stated that Jungkook's album will drop on July 14th. Another Naver article reported on that article, and then a bunch did. We've been here before, where the media ran with a bit of gossip and then got clowned later.

What the company SAID was:

“The schedule is yet to be finalized, and is to be announced subsequently.”

Now, JJK1 could very well drop in five weeks. But I've heard no chatter anywhere about final touches on post-production, album design, distribution plans, or promotional schedules... they don't just put the songs in a can and then press a button and it's out in the world.

Plus, a year ago, there was a strategic plan shared with investors that mentioned Q4 for him (though that was more of a road map than a firm commitment).

JK did say during last year's Festa that he'd go after Yoongi. So maybe it will happen as soon as July? That would be wonderful, because it seems like Jimin still has music to release, so maybe they can be supportive of each other's projects this summer and fall, before enlisting (hopefully at the same time!).

But I hope JJK1 doesn't go up against the Barbie soundtrack on July 21st because that has so many heavy hitters, my lord, we never catch a break!!

I will just say that JJK1 is one of the most anticipated global releases of the year. It will require a lot of logistics and likely heavy in-person promotion. So I just want to caution folks in getting too emotionally invested about a mid-July date.

It could be. It could not be. Best to wait for an official announcement, which will likely come at least 3 weeks before drop. So let's keep our ears perked after Yoongi's last concert on June 25th...

Third, some folks are reading into a lot of symbols these days. Which is fine! But I'd like to ask that we just be careful with it.

Personally, I only subscribe to a number theory if the timestamp or the numbers that the members write/say are in exact order and we can draw a straight line between that and a known special date. I do not use addition, subtraction, division, or re-ordering of numerals to get to a desired outcome. I don't know K-ARMY who do that either. But I'm not out to crap all over people who do!! It's fun to theorize!

For me, it's fun to look at number stuff the same way it's fun to read tarot cards. We tinker, we point out possible coincidences or patterns... Just please, I gently ask you to keep to theory and not fact. The last thing we want is for someone to cherrypick a screenshot and drag things out of context.

Speaking of symbols and theories becoming fanon facts...

Jimin posted old photos of him looking ADORBS with a tangerine today (which Tae helpfully commented to make sure we'd all understand it was a tangerine, lol). So Yoominners rejoice:

While Jimin's social media DOES feature plenty of Yoongi (D-Day, Suchwita, possibly photos where Yoongi's shoes appear in a mirror) and TikTok dances, plus he did come on live (FROM HIS HOME!!) on Yoongi's birthday... Jimin's social media also has Hobi, Jin, Joon, and Tae on it! But predominantly it's Yoongi who shows up on Jimin's Insta. We haven't had any Jungkook on his Insta since White Day of last year--interactions with Jungkook seem reserved for WeVerse lives and posts.

Make of it what you will.

To my mind, it does seem like certain "soft" subunits were paired up since Festa of last year. (Hobi spread love to everyone, then there was Namjin's DeliciouSeoul commercials, Yoonmin's Busan [??] tourism commercial, Taekook as yet to be determined but it feels like it's coming...) So the lines between work posts and relationship posts also begin to blur a bit for fans, especially since the members all adore each other anyway...

Whether there was a strategic plan in place or not for how what I perceive as soft subunits promote, I don't know.

But meanwhile, certain other "promotions" seem to organically play out: JK sings all his members' new feature songs, but hypes Jimin's the most (on random lives he does without permission). JK came on live often, but a pattern is emerging where that typically happens when Jimin is away or busy. JK hangs out with Tae and went to the Harry concert with other members, but calls for Jimin to join him most often.

Again, it's fun to speculate what this might mean.

Meanwhile, today Joon posted a gym whiteboard workout in which the initials JK and JM appear, and so folks assume minimonikook are getting swole together. I like the mental image, not gonna lie.

And hey y'all! Maybe Jimin is summoning Min Yoongi with a tangerine. Maybe Jikook did hit the gym with Joon and draw on his whiteboard. Maybe Tae did grab a bite with JK in the one day before he dyed his hair and allegedly went to Spain to film a music video. It's fun to speculate. It's what fans do.

I just want to caution folks from stating things the members do or feel as if they know for sure.

Those are cult tactics and, for me at least, the lines are starting to blur a little bit these days between Jikookers and Taekookers... in that folks are more than happy to assume that secret private couple getaway trips are pure fact, that words mumbled off screen say exactly what we want to hear, that the company has a clear-cut nefarious plot to hype specific members and bury others... and that there are hints of Signs and Wonders everywhere.

And maybe these things are shaking out and really happening. But we don't know. So I feel more comfy discussing this sort of thing when people include "I think" or "it seems" or "maybe" as we talk about it--I like to have a little wiggle room--because when I see my fellow Jikookers start to "witness truth," it comes off far more like a religion than a supportive fanbase.

I say this gently because at some point we've all done it, especially when we are in a hurry and speaking casually or joking around. I'm not judging, just cautioning.

Words matter. Believe me, I learned my lesson, and words matter.

And when it comes to Jikook, we don't really need to grasp at straws. While our boys are a lot more private these days, they still have exclusive, intimate tones and touches and interactions that we glimpse.

And the circle around them still heavily imply they come as a package deal. For example...

Fourth and finally, we got this awesome interview with Polyc, who had some wonderful things to say about Jimin and the members:

youtube

And it was sort of implied that Jimin spoke many times with Polyc about the membership tattoo over the five months that JK was getting his arm retouched--maybe while they were in the shop together? Maybe while his moon tattoos were getting done? Or maybe not.

But Polyc basically said Jimin was the one to usher each member through the process. (Which is a bit of a different impression than I got last Festa when Tae said "I will go with Jungkookie!" because back then it implied it was JK who acted as the conduit between the members and his tattoo artist, but here's some strong evidence that it was Jimin all along who bounced around ideas and made it happen and comforted each member's anxiety. Interesting.)

It's almost as though Jimin and Jungkook are the soft subunit that never gets official promo but keeps bubbling up everywhere.

Okay so that was my long-winded way of pooping on the party just a little, but hopefully not enough to dampen anyone's spirits!! No one is doing fandom "wrong" -- I just want to keep our hearts and intention pure, and our actions honorable, that's all.

In conclusion: speculation is fun! But assuming is not.

And now? Please STREAM!!

AND PRE-ORDER TAKE TWO WHILE YOU'RE AT IT!!

I love you all so very much! Be well, puppykitties!

Love, Roo

#jimin #jungkook #jikook #Spotify

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thepapergirlandthespiegelman · 8 months

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Sometimes I feel like I'm the only person in the world who still remembers and loves CDs. Vinyl records have made a comeback and are now considered cool among certain varieties of hipster and audiophile, but CDs haven't had the same treatment.

And like, to some extent, I kinda understand that. CDs aren't cool. Records are cool. They're big and textured and elegant and they're objectively old enough to feel vintage rather than dated. They're not exactly durable but they make up for their fragility with their other positive qualities, and you could certainly argue that warping and scratches add exactly the kind of character to a record that we've lost with digital music and therefore crave from physical media. A slightly damaged CD pretty much always just becomes totally unplayable.

So I get it. And I'll readily admit that the biggest reason why I like CDs is simply that I grew up with them and have fond memories of them. But I do also think it's objectively true that there are certain positive features unique to CDs. I will never tire of the experience of giving and receiving mix CDs. You can't do that with a record. (I mean, I don't think you can? Not easily, at any rate.) And it's not the same as a playlist! It's not the same. When you make a mix CD, you not only curate the music for the recipient, you burn the disc, you decorate it, you make the sleeve or pick the jewel case and make the paper insert for it, figure out how to wrap/package it. I mean, obviously you don't have to do all of these things, but the opportunity is there for a lot of creativity and love. And in the end the person gets both the physical object as well as being able to make digital copies of the songs on their computer (which also allows them to use those songs in their future mix CDs, continuing the cycle!).

The mix CD is just so unpretentious, wholesome, and kind. It gave the average person unprecedented power over how music was curated and shared. (I mean, of course mix tapes did something similar, and maybe they deserve more credit than I give them, simply because they're from before my time; but I kind of have to assume that CD mixing is a much simpler and more efficient process.) The mix CD creates a loving context for experiencing music. Here, I made this! Special from me, for you! I think context is one of the things which we most desperately miss in this modern age, where we're fed our newest songs by the goddamn algorithm (whether that's Spotify, TikTok, YouTube, or whatever). The mix CD is personal, human, earnest and sweet.

(And yes, to some extent, playlists do this as well, and they have their own advantages. But I think the shareability of playlists, while making it possible for many more people to experience your creation, has ended up discouraging the intimate act of making something just for one other person and instead promotes the idea that what is most desirable is to have your work seen by the greatest possible number of people.)

I started thinking about this because I saw another post talking about the removal of CD/DVD drives from computers and it really does make me sad thinking that this may be the final nail in the coffin of the mix CD. I've had to depend on external disc drives to make my mixes, and I'm sure that for most people, CDs have passed totally out of their awareness.

I'm not saying the mix CD is the end all be all of sharing music. There are already lots of other ways to share music and I would quite like to think that we will continue to invent new ways. But I do find it very sad that the art of the mix CD is dying, and while the mix CD itself may be doomed, I really hope that we don't forget its virtues, and find a way to keep the spirit of the thing alive. Physical object as well as digital copies that can be shared with others, permanent ownership of the music (rather than just streaming/renting), the burning and reading of this object being cheap and accessible, personal touch/high customizability (not being limited simply to song order, a single cover image, and a short description), intimacy. These are what I don't want to lose.

#text #thoughts #media #music #physical media #CDs #mix CDs

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diasomnia-dreams · 2 years

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If there’s a prize for rotten judgement | Idia Shroud anthology story

- He ran the Underworld But thought the dead were dull and uncouth, He was as mean as he was ruthless, And that's the gospel truth..

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“Diáole…” the older Shroud cursed in Greek, his half lidded eyes set upon the skull shaped alarm clocked which was manufactured and programmed by himself.

The cold metal kissed his pale and slender digits and the young man slightly winced at the touch. Mentally cringing at himself for falling for such a ‘normie mistake.’

With a spine popping stretch, Idia twisted his hips while he sat up shirtless in his tangled covers. Bones popping and hair slung to the left side of his shoulders swaying with each movement the heir to the house of Shroud made. And while he remained attempting to focus on the newly adjusted environment around him, The quietness of the lack of beeping, static drumming and interfaces making auditory sounds was still something to get used to.

Ortho was already awake and downstairs, bright and early per usual and most likely not being in the same dorm room with him anymore and now officially enrolled as a student at Night Raven College .

But currently it was Spring Break, hence meaning Ortho had many more school friends to spend time with and not enough time for his big brother…(even though Idia insisted that Ortho went along with his new found friends).

‘Dont worry about lil ol’ me Ortho! Im not doing anything special for break. Go spend some time with your friends LOL, I’ll be here grinding on Star Rouge.’ Idia would tell him.

And while Idia was happy for Ortho, of course he was happy. Any good big brother would be leaping for joy and ecstatic over their baby brother’s accomplishments and that’s exactly what Idia was. But his dorm room was kind of lonely now, and Ortho was hanging out with his new gaggle of friends. Idia wondered if his baby brother had time to even pop his head through the door for a little visit once in a while.

But Idia still didn’t mind. As long as Ortho was happy. As long as his brother was doing what he wanted, was safe and finally a true student at this wretched school, what could possibly be better than the happiness of Ortho?

Idia Shroud’s flaming blue locks emitted brightly as his brain reminded him to check the calender. Usually Ortho would remind him of the date and upcoming events occurring during the week. Idia’s gaming schedule was out of wack and while he wasn’t necessarily a slacker and a procrastinator when it came to school work, lately he found no motivation to proceed with his studies. He was tired and bored of the mundane life he was leading.

He grabbed his smartphone with tricked out enhancements which was placed under his pillows, and entered his seven digit password: C-E-R-B-E-R-U-S.

The light turned on the lowest of brightness and he began to swipe through magicam. He never found the app charming. He was more interested in gaming chatrooms to converse with his fellow nerds and not the ‘normies’.

His fellow Night Raven College mates living it up on their Spring break whilst he was in the Underworld. And though it seemed like the Isle of Woe was some sort of façade which hid the true nature of fellow citizens of this dreadful place.

It was beautiful on the outside, a land of lush green grass, doric and ionic columns and an abundance of pillars and water fountains. There was also the underside which was made up of S.T.Y.X, where Idia would rather think about for another day.

The Island of Woe, not only is home to his family’s multi-million dollar company but holds something bigger in it’s wake. Idia didn’t bother investigating but something within his soul everyday during his Summer Break ached him to go seek out the mysterious calling. He always knew his family held secrets and his parents were one of he most powerful business owners this side of New Thebes, but he didn’t care enough to ask them.

He scrolled through Ace Trappola’s news Magicam story because it was the first thing on his timeline. It was a cringey sight to say the least. Watching Deuce, Ace, Y/N and Grim run around a sprinkler aimlessly and laughing hysterically while Riddle Rosehearts and Idia’s fellow third years, Trey and Cater spray the freshman with water hoses to keep cool from the beaming sun of the Queendom of Roses. Idia’s dark blue eyebrows furrowed when he watched the first year’s story.

“This is the gaggle of newbs that Ortho hangs out with…” Idia muttered to himself. He licked the top blue painted lip and scrolled by and proceeded to finally throw his legs over the right side of his bed and stand up. Taking one big stretch before striding over towards his computer monitors in his black sweat pants. His shirt hanging on the back of his gaming chair which was closely resembling the undershirt he wore under his science lab coat back in class.

Powering on his monitor, Idia waited for the startup screen to load and the familiar three triangles which are stacked up on top of each other appears on the loading screen. His lips curve into a slight smirk before feeling his phone vibrate once more against his thigh.

Dreading the notification for whoever was on the other end, but once the older Shroud brother noticed that it was no one but his mother, his nerves relaxed slightly for she was letting him know that she and Ortho will be out for the day running errands. Leaving him with his father, Lord Shroud, who would be boring Idia with discussions about work, the STYX company and Jupiter enterprises. More oil and blot talk, something else Idia would rather skip.

Sending a single: K. To his mother, Idia proceeded to click through the desktop of his computer. His heart doing small flips and his lips slightly tremble. His large hand gripping the computer mouse as his golden eyes danced across the computer monitor.

Idia spends half of his morning in the same spot, crouched over his computer, staring down. His hair covering the left of his face due to the lack of grooming and attention he’s given it this morning. The heir to the Shroud estate snatched his shirt off his chair and threw it over his head and slid his arms through each of the sleeves before exiting the comfort of his bedroom and into the vast and long dark hallways of his family’s mansion which eerily resembled the dark depths of the Underworld in the stories of old.

He didn’t mind the aesthetic, thinking that it closely resembled the domain of a final boss fortress.

Trudging down the hallways of his doom and gloom excuse of a mansion, his feet kissed the dark blue porcelain floors. His eyes shifted to the left and right hoping that his father would not notice his presence of being awake. If he was quiet enough, he’d make it downstairs towards the garage without having to discuss how school’s going or the talk of future S.T.Y.X. work.

Much to his luck, he was able to slip through the elevator and click the lowest button to the bottom-most floor before one of the Charon Ferryman could enter next to him. Although he was not alone in the elevator, another attendant of his father’s company stood idly by. He looked to be about his age and was at least the height of Floyd and Jade Leech. He kept his head down but his S.T.Y.X. identification card was visible on the left side of his chest which read Phobos Kynikós.

Idia scoffed to himself. ‘His name is Panic Cynical…’ he could almost laugh out loud literally at the corny name. And while Phobos refused to make eye contact with him, Idia noticed that he probably did have something on his mind.

The elevator, which shot down at a great speed and opened on the second to last floor. Phobos strolled out, his teal colored hair bouncing as he took his leave. He was anxious and while Idia had experience with that sort of emotion, he couldn’t fathom why someone would be nervous around a guy like him.

Idia waited till the doors closed to exhale. It was a pity not to hear Ortho explain more about his recent adventures with his newfound buddies this morning. And at this moment, Idia wondered what his younger brother was doing. And when rhe elevator descended to the deepest depths of the Shroud mansion, he exited through the double door’ed elevator and was greeted by an abundance of vegetation, flowers and all forms of life.

Seeing such a sight was a contrast to what the Island of Woe truly was. There was hardly anything like flowers and the like around here. Everything was dead, or artificial in a sense and dark with a twinge of cobalt blue. The only true natural thing around here was the bodies of water which surrounded their island.

The flowers brought out a different aura, a different feeling in the low garage that the entire island needed. Life.

The smell of sweet sweet flowers filled Idia’s nose and the fragrance was subtle, feminine and sweet. He sneezed.

And when the sneezing fit ended, he figured he had a clue what exact was the culprit for the hoard of blossoms in bloom. A gentle almost timid smirk was fixated Idia’s blue lips and he leaned against one of the ivory colored Grecian sculptured columns.

“Per? You can come out now.” A figure slowly emerged from the shadows.

“Is anyone around?”

“No one is here,” he reassured her, his voice dropping to a new calm at the sight of her. He wasn’t surprisingly anxious or fidgety. It’s like she nulled it out, like some sort of elixir from Space Rogue.

She was exquisite. He loved everything about her, from the crown of silver flowers she wore in her curly black hair to the dark eyes that offset her brown skin. For the first time ever, he even noticed clothing. He couldn’t help admiring how she favored cobalt blue for her gowns over drab whites. Today’s dress was clipped at her waist with a floral silver belt. “Where’s Ortho?” she asked. Her dark brown lips pursed into a line. “Better yet, the F.A.T.E.S are coming over soon. Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”

Sounding timid for the first time since he’d met her. They were similar in that sense. She was a stowaway ,not belonging to the Island of Woe at all.

She was anything but a wallflower. She was fiery. He loved that about her most of all. He glided over and put his arms around his back. His voice slowly starting to grow louder than usual,and for some reason around Percy, Idia did that. His anxiety lowered but his voice higher and he was far too excited than he anticipated.

“I’m on my way in to see him right now. I don’t want you to worry. I thought you were going to go do that thing to take your mind off all that.”

“I am,” she said with a smile. “You’re going to love it.” He doubted that, but he wanted her to be happy.

“The F.A.T.E.S literally come every so often to discuss work and business with my dad…probability rates about the future of S.T.Y.X. and the entirety of the island” She nodded and wound her arms as far as she could around his waist.

Idia froze in place. His heart quickening, he swore he was on fire. No—he was pretty sure. He had fire coursing through him which was now different from anytime he had ever caught flames within.

“I know.” Percy knelt down and grabbed handful of her flowers that she was growing. And twiddled through their dark blue petals. “But it would be ideal to be there with your dad…to help him and figure out the future of S.T.Y.X…you will be CEO soon.”

“Tch, you’re one to talk Per.” Idia rolled his eyes. “You left your entire family just to stick around this Underworld.” Idia shook his head and his enflamed locks bounced.

Percy threw her flowers down and stared Idia in the eyes. “No, I left my entire family just to stick around you.”

He couldn’t put his finger on what the feeling was. It wasn’t anger, it wasn’t hate, it wasn’t even envy. Was this what all those lovesick cringy protagonists were always going on about during in-game dialogue? Was he in love?

It sure felt like it, and if that were true… He was done for. And yet—he could not deny how nice it was to have someone to talk to after all these years, someone besides his online gaming partners, and his dear baby brother Ortho who he of course did not mind talking to in the slightest.

She came from the brightest of places, New Olympus. She was daughter of Demetra the self made businesswoman of one of the largest landscaping and vegetation companies this side of Twisted Wonderland. And while she didnt have to be friends with him, Percy went all out her way to run away from home, just to be near him. Which Idia still couldn’t understand. It made him queasy and it made him wonder why someone as beautiful, outgoing and so put together would want him.

Idia would hate to keep Per in a sunless place. A world where plants and vegetation didnt thrive like she’s always known. Down in the land of the dead. Dark and gloomy, dreary and sad.

But she made his future seem brighter, which he thought would have been impossible after the entire overblot ordeal. But when he loves so much, when he puts so much into his life and slowly but surely it all comes back to nothing. It was all for nothing. Idia was afraid. He loses everything dear to him, prematurely. Why fall for someone better yet care for someone unless he was dying to cry his heart out when he loses them?

Idia refuses to have Per fall to victim of death and loss. He refuses to have her life be taken down to Charon’s ferry so early. So he planned on doing what any person in love would do. He’ll keep her by his side at any cost. Even if it means to keep her down in this underworld for all eternity, from the sun.

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my oc in this story Percy is twisted from Persephone the Goddess of Spring from Disney’s Goddess of Spring film. this fic is mildly referenced from Hades and Persephone’s relationship in both Goddess of Spring and the original Greek story where Hades is obsessed with persephone and wants to marry her at any cost, and Persephone is in love with Hades as well and rebels against Demeter, her mother and falls in love with the God of the Underworld.

i hope everyone liked it <3

thank you to Ms Jen Calonita for the inspiration from Hades’ character in Go the Distance

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