Daylia_coco
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Summary
Sandrone, an omega, often locks herself in her lab. Columbina comes and goes freely, and Sandrone assumes she's an omega too, so she doesn't mind. It ends up Sandrone goes into heat because alpha pheromones somehow appeared in her lab.
Or:
Columbina came back to take the plate. She ended up taking something else.
Bookmarked by Daylia_coco
10 Jun 2026
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Summary
A tube of lipstick, and how Columbina finds herself unconsciously wanting to mark Sandrone.
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Summary
Columbina and Sandrone’s midnight shenanigans in silvermoon hall.
Bookmarked by Daylia_coco
07 Jun 2026
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everything is turning, everything is turning (the shapes you drew may change beneath a different light) by wishingforbettertomorrows
Fandoms: 原神 | Genshin Impact (Video Game)
06 Jun 2026
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Summary
It was there, in the shining beacon of warmth in the frozen tundras of Snezhnaya, that she met Sandrone for the first time.
Series
- Part 1 of anemoi
Bookmarked by Daylia_coco
06 Jun 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
There, she could pretend she was a regular person: conducting research and studying before packing up and returning to a warm home filled with the scent of bread baking in the oven, with freshly picked fruits and juice on the table.
It was all a dream, of course.
In the end, she’d still return to her empty quarters
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Summary
Sandrone steps forward until there is barely space between them. She reaches for Columbina’s wrist, fingers firm but controlled, guiding her hand upward. Columbina does not resist. She never does. She trusts with unnerving ease.
Sandrone’s thumb brushes against the smear of chocolate. Warm. Smooth. She holds Columbina’s wrist steady and brings her own lips to the mark instead.
The sweetness is almost overwhelming.
Columbina inhales softly.
Or: Sandrone’s always hated Valentine’s Day. Surely this one won’t be any different!
Bookmarked by Daylia_coco
05 Jun 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
Sandrone releases her wrist only to slide her hand higher, fingers settling at the curve of her waist. Columbina’s dress is soft beneath her palm, the fabric warm from the kitchen heat. Sandrone guides her back a step until the counter presses lightly against Columbina’s hips.
“You are making chocolate,” Sandrone says quietly, leaning close enough that her voice brushes against Columbina’s ear, “yet you have been distracted since I arrived.”
Columbina tilts her head toward the sound of her voice. “You are the distraction.”
Sandrone’s grip tightens, not enough to bruise, but enough to assert presence. “Explain.”
“I wanted to hear your footsteps,” Columbina says, her tone turning thoughtful. “I wanted to know if you would come.”