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littleapplle · 3 months ago

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mating season!

bad pup! - 1.5k w. part two is now out!!! read bad dog! here

cw.: dog hybrid!caleb, afab!reader, knot mentioned, masturbation, cunnillingus, caleb is stupid and i hate him, panty sniffing obviously. caleb is desperate and kinda pathetic. not proofread... again.

note: this was supposed to be a joke. tf went wrong dawg.

puppy!caleb who's the biggest sweetheart ever. he likes belly rubs, headpats and blueberry treats. he likes roughhousing and chewing on the baby teethers you give him so he doesn't destroy everything in your apartment while you're gone.

puppy!caleb who's the sweetest pup around <3 he waits for you to get home by the door and when you do, his tail wags so fast, his heart beats quickly and you can see the tears of relief pricking in his lilac eyes.

puppy!caleb who can't stand that you leave for work everyday. who's going to play with him?!

puppy!caleb who's usually very obedient but has been acting up lately. you brush it off at first but caleb isn't one to growl when you try to get close to his food. bad dog!

puppy!caleb who sniffs you head to toe when you come home tired from work. and if he finds something he doesn't like? his fluffy ears drop down to the back of his head and he growls.

you try to search up online what's wrong with your pup and all you can find is rutting season, which is pretty weird since his last owner swore he was neutered.

puppy!caleb who gets sosososo anxious and stressed when you're not home:( he needs something- anything with your scent to calm down!

puppy!caleb who goes through your laundry basket. he knows it's bad and he made a mess but he'll clean it up later! the only thing important right now is that he found the white frilly panties you wore on monday.

puppy!caleb pupils dilate as his eyes stare at the discharge stain on the delicate fabric and something snaps inside him. He brings the panties to his face, giving it a first, innocent whiff and fuuuuuuuck

you’ve always smelled good, puppy!caleb likes your shampoo and bodywash and cologne and- but this? this is heaven. caleb gives it a whiff again. there’s a hint of sweat, it’s not nasty, it smells like you and that does it for your sweet pup.

puppy!caleb who doesn’t know why he has been so pent up lately:( he likes being good for you! you smile and praise him and let him have a spoon of peanut butter! but his brain feels fuzzy and there’s a knot growing bigger and bigger on his lower stomach and he feels like he’s gonna pop like a balloon and he’s anxious and he’s alone and you’re not here to help him!

puppy!caleb kicks his wet boxers — which he did pee a little from anxiety but he’d rather die than accept that he is that desperate — and whines loudly when his sensitive cock hits his tummy.

puppy!caleb who paws his cock on a miserable attempt to relieve himself. his hand wraps itself around the shaft, his thumb presses down on his angry red, leaky tip and another loud whine escapes his lips.

puppy!caleb who sniffs your panties again, now gaining enough confidence to lick the patch of arousal and discharge left on the fabric. at the taste, his fluffy tail wags excitedly, thumping on the ground hard enough you’d definitely hear an earful from your neighbor downstairs later.

puppy!caleb who can’t help but sink his itching canines on your panties- sorry! he panicked!

wet squelches fill the bathroom walls as his hand works up and down on his sensitive cock. melodic, obnoxiously loud moans and whimpers leave his throat as his already creamy dick finally shoots out strings of thick, milky cum and the base of his cock forms a big, swollen knot.

puppy!caleb ears perk at the sound of your keys unlocking the front door and he barely takes time to put his boxers back on before he runs to the entryway. oh you’re finally home! you’ve been gone for so long- too long!

he doesn’t give you any time to scold him for not wearing anything but underwear- or to question him why his heart is beating impossibly fast or why he’s whining so much. puppy!caleb who brings you down to the floor in a harsh pull, ignoring your complaints.

“s-sorry! ‘m sorry! so hot- you smell so good!” the pup cries, his breath tickles the sensitive skin of your neck as he takes a good whiff, drowning in what's left of your perfume and natural musk.

and it’s not like you can pull him away:( first of all you don’t have the heart to leave your pup crying like that, especially when you don’t know what happened and he’s just stupidly strong!

“ah! b-bad dog! get off caleb- you’re heavy!” your nagging falls deaf in his ears. you shudder at the moment his tongue licks the skin where your neck and jaw meet, twitching at the weird feeling.

puppy!caleb who is so fucking dumb and can’t seem to figure out how to unbuckle your belt and unbutton your pants. you squirm under him and a raspy squeal of surprise leaves your throat.

“bad dog! argh- what has gotten in you today?-” — “please! promise it’ll feel good- jus’- jus’ needa taste you, please? need it? i’ve been nice and didn’t chew on anything- can i get a treat? please? please please-” he asks- no- begs.

you don’t give him a proper answer, just accepting that there’s not much you can do under him. with some struggle, stupid puppy!caleb gets you out of your tight jeans.

a string of whines and sniffles come out of him. you feel overwhelmed- his hands are everywhere, puppy!caleb has always been the anxious type, if he can’t touch every bit of skin in your body and mark you as his then what else is he going to do?!

even in so much distress, puppy!caleb’s tail still wags excitedly behind him as he kisses your tummy and licks a stripe from your belly button to the hem of your panties. a different pair, he notes. this time, a pretty lacy red design barely covers your fat folds.

he takes a whiff first, of course, before licking the wet stain forming where your slit would be. “fu-uck- caleb! you- aha- bad fucking dog!” you moan, covering your face with your now sweaty hands. caleb doesn’t pay attention to your curses, only trying to dig deeper on the fabric in hopes to get to his meal faster.

frustration bubbles on his dumbed down brain. bothered by the fabric getting on the way, puppy!caleb’s teeth rip the delicate lace and pull it to the side, finally able to get his prize.

“c-caleb- are you fucking kidding-? what has gotten- h-hey no teeth! bad dog!” you chastise in disbelief. you don’t really know what’s worse, caleb non stop whining and the fact that you can’t pull him away from your cunt or that you find it hot.

puppy!caleb who licks a stripe from your slit up to your clit before diving in for a little snack!!! you taste so much better than your panties:( he really tries to be gentle and start slowly, kissing the hood that protects your clit but it just isn’t for him! he needs it now!!!

sucking harshly on your folds, he lets go with a loud ‘pop!’ before teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue attempting to get a positive reaction from you. seeing you squirm on the floor only makes it harder for him to think properly:(

puppy!caleb whose tongue’s swirls on the sensitive bundle of nerves in a way that makes your head spin- how does he even know how to do all of that?

puppy!caleb who can’t help but rut his hips on the cold floor as his tip grows redder and leaks more pre cum than before:( he feels so good though… he can’t really stop right now to take care of himself! you’re basically overwhelming his every sense and his puppy brain can’t really focus:(

puppy!caleb who accidentally nips on your clit, making you jolt and curse at him. “s-sorry! ‘m sorry!” – he cries out as his ears drop and he spits on your cunt.

it’s messy, you feel ashamed for doing something like that with him of all people and what’s worse is that you can’t deny that it feels fucking good. puppy!caleb’s tongue slurps everything he can get leaking out your slit before digging in impossibly close for more. shoving his tongue as deep as he can to taste you better, his nose hits your clit for the nth time, the constant sniffing making you squeal in pleasure.

“a-ah! fuck! f-fuck caleb- gonna cum, can you keep going pup? be obedient for once, y-yeah? please- shit- mghh!-” at the sign to keep going, caleb’s eyes roll to the back of his skull. he shifts to suck on your clit again and that finally breaks you. your back arches and an embarrassing loud moan escape your glossy lips, your legs twitching and closing around his head.

puppy!caleb who apparently is insatiable and doesn’t stop licking you clean until you scold him – again – and pulls his head back by the hair. bad dog!

“did you cum on your boxers?-” — “sorry!”

⊹ ࣪ ˖ reblogs are very much appreciated. thank you for reading! (*´▽`*)

#.littleapplle's pastries #.puppy!caleb #caleb smut #caleb x mc #caleb x reader #caleb x you #lads #lads caleb #lads smut #love and deepspace #xia yizhou #caleb xia

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fairyhaos · 2 months ago

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◇ the way you make me feel // choi seungcheol

seungcheol x gn!reader, 2.6k+ words

tags: requested by anon, established relationship, fluff, mild angst, seungcheol is sooo down bad oh lawwd

warnings: pet names, 1 vvv mild curse word ig?? (ass)

notes: any fic where i get to write besotted cheol is a great fic! might be slightly ooc but oh well. who cares. ty anon for this request <3

“I'm going to be very honest, honey… this feels like a sleeping arrangement for a couple that's just had an argument.”

You laugh a little at the mild pout on your boyfriend's face as he stares contemplatively at the bed after you've suggested a rather… interesting sleep method that he's never really heard of before.

“It's really not,” you assure him. “Other couples do this all the time! And I thought it would be fun to try out too.”

Your boyfriend, Seungcheol, blinks at the bed before looking over at you, mystified.

“Really? People want to do this?”

“Yes, Cheol.”

“Hm.” Seungcheol frowns. “What did you say this was called again?”

“The Scandinavian Sleep Method,” you say cheerfully, hopping over to the drawers with all the different duvets and duvet covers that you and your boyfriend have collected over the years you've been living together. “Isn't it such a great idea? We sleep in the same bed, but we each have a different duvet so we get better sleep but still get to be next to each other.”

You begin pulling out different duvets, inspecting them and continuing to chatter as you do so.

“I know how much you love weighted blankets, but you know they're not something I'm a big fan of,” you say. “And you really hate my fluffy covers, for some reason. But if we sleep this way, then both of us can sleep happily without causing disturbance to the other's sleep quality!”

With a flourish, you turn back round to Seungcheol, the offending weighted blanket and fluffy cover in your hands, as if emphasising your point. There's a bright beam on your face, evidently eager to try out this new idea, but Seungcheol?

He's still looking a bit hesitant.

Which, understandable. You're introducing a new sleeping arrangement three years after you've been quite happily living together. Anyone would find that weird.

“If we don't like it, we can switch back,” you assure him. You shrug. “It's just a trend I saw online, Cheol. I thought it would be cool.”

Seungcheol pauses, and then smiles, nodding once. “Fine, fine. Let's try out, then. We'll see if the Scandinavians actually sleep well.”

You cheer, dropping the bedding and skipping across the room to launch yourself into Seungcheol’s arms. He catches you easily, laughing as he does so, amused at how delighted you are by his acceptance.

“Yes! I love you. Now I get to make the bed all aesthetic with different layered sheets!”

Seungcheol laughs again. “All right, sweetheart. Tell me if you need more sheets to fit in with your vision, okay? I'll buy you whatever you need.”

“Oh my god, suddenly I love you even more.”

───────────── 🗝

Admittedly, Seungcheol does love hearing you say that you, the absolute love of his life, love him (and any self-respecting boyfriend would feel the same), but he's wondering if this entire thing is really, really all that worth it.

Because, well.

Seungcheol hates the Scandinavian Sleep Method.

He harbours no hatred towards the Scandinavians themselves, of course, but their sleep method, for him, well and truly sucks.

Of course, he can understand why people like it. There are aspects he doesn't mind, too: such as how it's currently way less likely for him to wake up at 4am with a cold ass because you've stolen half the covers from him again. Or how he doesn't have to worry about the fluffy, fuzzy feeling of your sheets pressing creepily soft kisses against his ankles. Or how he can now actually sleep peacefully without finding that he's been suffocated by your weight on his chest because now, you actually sleep on your side of the bed.

Nevertheless, he hates this.

Unfortunately, he can't bring himself to say anything about this, because—

“I seriously think my quality of sleep has improved so much,” you say to Seungcheol one Sunday morning, beaming over your cup of coffee as he makes breakfast waffles for you. “The Scandinavians really know what they're talking about, huh?”

And your eyes are bright, sparkling as you say this, so full of life even though it's nine in the morning on a Sunday.

So Seungcheol smiles back, happy purely because you're happy, even though if you really pressed him, he'd admit that he's not really happy at all.

“I guess they do,” he says, turning back to the waffles. “Do you want honey with the waffles? Or the new maple syrup I bought you?”

“Ooh, maple syrup, please!”

And then Seungcheol had done all sorts of fancy tricks with the bottle of maple syrup, and you had clapped your hands and laughed, delighted, and Seungcheol felt a little better, the weight of his guilt that he didn't share your opinion beginning to lighten.

There's no real big reason why he hates this sleeping arrangement. Sure, it stops all your bad sleeping habits, but, truthfully, he… misses all those things.

He misses waking up to you all huddled up in the blankets, looking all small and adorable whilst swathed in the thick fabric. He misses cuddling you close and entangling his legs with yours in order to escape from the weird fluffy texture of your sheets. He misses feeling the comforting weight of you asleep against his chest, warm and secure like the physical manifestation of his soul, safely tucked against his side.

Now, you simply smile at him, face shiny and soft from your skincare routine, and give him a peck on the cheek goodnight before snuggling under your duvet, away from him, in your own little bubble of comfort.

Without him.

It makes him feel like an abandoned dog left in the rain outside of his owner's home.

Excuse him for being dramatic, but he's literally slept with you curled up in his arms for a very, very long time now. And these days, now that you're no longer with him and are miles away on the other half of the bed, he can't fall asleep by himself.

Withdrawal symptoms from cuddling must be a thing, because he's going through them right now.

“Just talk about how you feel, then,” is what any sane person would say about this matter, which is very good, very sound, advice.

However, it's also what Joshua says to Seungcheol when he complains to him about the new sleeping arrangement, and everyone knows Joshua is the least sane person in existence, so Seungcheol decides to ignore his advice.

Joshua rolls his eyes, used to but not pleased by Seungcheol's stubbornness.

“You're being silly,” he says, when Seungcheol vetoes his suggestion. “This is obviously impacting your sleep quality in a negative way, which is the exact opposite of what Y/N was hoping for.”

“But Y/N seems to be sleeping better,” Seungcheol argues. He rubs his eyes, and the world spins a little as he does so. “So I probably shouldn't say anything, right?”

“No, you should say something,” Joshua says firmly. “What do you think Y/N will do when it becomes obvious that this new arrangement is actively harming you, and yet you didn't say anything? Hell, if I found out my boyfriend wasn't telling me that kind of stuff, I'd get really mad.”

Seungcheol frowns. “What? Why?”

“Because you're my boyfriend?” Joshua says. “Uh—not actually mine, obviously. But that's how Y/N would feel. You need to communicate your feelings. That's what couples do.”

Joshua takes a sip of his tea, spinning around in Seungcheol's desk chair in his study whilst Seungcheol, the owner of the chair, is currently exiled to the small wooden stool beside it.

“Just think about how you'd feel if you were in Y/N's shoes. How would you feel if your partner wasn't telling you that they're sleeping badly and feeling increasingly more terrible throughout the weeks because of something that could be easily fixed by them talking it out with you?”

And oh, now Seungcheol understands. Now it makes more sense. He'd want you to communicate your feelings immediately.

Joshua must see the revelation on Seungcheol's face, because he snorts smugly. “I knew you'd get there in the end.”

“Shut up,” Seungcheol grumbles, and Joshua mocks him for how ridiculously macho-man he was being before. “I'll talk to Y/N about this tonight.”

“Well done,” Joshua says amusedly, spinning around in Seungcheol's chair so fast that its joints, even as expensive and well-oiled as they are, begin to groan in surprise. “I'm so proud of you.”

“Shut up,” Seungcheol says again, and Joshua laughs. “And get off my chair.”

“Hmph! You're so mean. I bought this chair for you, you know.”

“No, you didn't.”

“No, I didn't. But you believed me for a second, didn't you?”

“Definitely not. Now get out of my house before Y/N gets home.”

───────────── 🗝

It's one of those very, very rare days where you finish work later than Seungcheol, and so when you unlock the front door and finally make it inside, you're more than ready to just fall into your boyfriend's arms.

Except, the entire ground floor of your house is dark when you get home.

“Where is he?” you say to yourself, mystified. “Cheol? Where are you?”

“In our room!” he calls back from upstairs, and you take off your coat and shoes, dumping your bag by the doorway and bounding up the stairs two at a time to get to your boyfriend.

“Seungcheol! Why were the hallway lights off? Have you eaten dinner yet? What's— wait, what are you doing?”

In the middle of your bed, right over where the two halves of your bedding meet, Seungcheol is sprawled out in an upside down starfish shape, staring up at you balefully as you walk into the room, and you laugh a little at the state your boyfriend is in.

“Hello,” you say amusedly. “You look like you're sulking.”

Seungcheol just continues to blink up at you like a displeased cat.

You laugh again, bending down and kissing him on the forehead. “Definitely sulking, I see. What's wrong, baby? What happened?”

There's a long moment where Seungcheol doesn't say anything, and you continue to smile down at him, petting his hair fondly. And then, he frowns, and speaks.

“What do you think of our bed?”

You look over at the head of the bed, scanning it briefly. “I think it looks fine.”

It's apparently the wrong thing to say, because Seungcheol frowns harder.

“Why? Do you not like it?”

“I don't like it,” Seungcheol says, and sits up, turning around to face you. “I don't like this sleeping arrangement.”

You tilt your head. “Oh? I thought you didn't mind the Scandinavian Sleep Method.”

Seungcheol sighs. “I lied,” he admits. “I actually hate it so much. It's the worst thing in the entire world.”

Your face softens in worry, feeling something thick and bitter rising to your throat at the idea that you've been forcing Seungcheol to go through with something he hates.

“I'm sorry,” you say sincerely, sitting down beside him on the bed. “I didn't realise. You should've said something, Cheol. I would've changed back in an instant.”

Seungcheol, for how big and manly and good at acting as your guard dog he is, still always melts under your touch, and the moment you wrap your arms around his neck, he softens into your embrace, burying his face in your shoulder.

“Would you really?” he asks, muffled into your blazer, and you belatedly realise that you're still in your work clothes. You haven't even washed your hands.

“Of course I would,” you say in your best don't be silly voice. “I don't want you to be feeling bad.”

His hands wrap around your waist, warm and comforting and he pulls you in closer, hugging you even tighter.

“Sorry,” he says. “I feel like I'm being stupid. This isn't even anything big. It just… makes me feel really terrible, and I don't know why.”

“Hey, that's totally okay,” you say placatingly, threading your fingers through his hair and patting him consolingly on the back. “I told you we didn't have to carry on with this, baby. I said we could switch back whenever we wanted to.”

He squeezes you tighter, arms wrapping more securely around you. “I still feel bad. You liked this sleeping method.”

You laugh softly, resting your chin on his shoulder. “Yes, but not as much as I like you.”

If possible, he seems to melt even further into you at those words, and you smile, adoring how clearly he adores you.

“Come on, sweetheart,” you say affectionately, kissing Seungcheol's ear before untangling yourself from his embrace. “Let's start remaking the bed then, hm?”

You pull away from his arms, and Seungcheol is staring at you with big eyes, irises all melty soft. And then he nods, smiling slightly, looking like a pleased puppy as he gets off the bed and begins helping you take the covers off the duvets.

───────────── 🗝

It's unusual for Seungcheol to be so shy like this—normally, he's the one telling you to be more outspoken, more confident, so it's a nice change. You quite like being able to reassure him, gently tell him what to do, praise him and shower him with love in the way that he always does with you.

“So why did you hate the Scandinavian Sleep Method?” you ask him a bit later as the two of you sit in front of the washing machine, watching it spin your bedding round and round. Seungcheol had insisted that you wash all of it right away, because otherwise the two of you were bound to put it off for a whole month.

Your boyfriend shrugs. He watches the bedding get spun in circles again and again and again.

And then, he finally looks at you, clad in your classic two-piece cotton pyjamas, hair all a mess, your face softened and natural now that you've washed up for the night, all ready to go to bed.

You look so pretty like this, so open and comforting and god, Seungcheol had missed you.

Even though he sees you every day. But that's whatever. He's missed being this close with you at night, in this kind of domestic setting, where it's just the two of you pressed close together in your house as the rest of the world sleeps.

“That sleeping arrangement…” he begins quietly, and you look up.

“Hm?”

Seungcheol holds your gaze very seriously as he continues. “It didn't let me hug you.”

You blink. “What?”

“It didn't let me hug you,” he repeats, as serious as ever, and you want to laugh in fondness because it really is that serious for him. “I couldn't cuddle you to sleep. I hated that.”

“Oh,” you say, positively melting away at his reason, so unbelievably in love with him that your heart is goo in your chest. “That's so sweet, Cheol, oh my god.”

You lean over and pinch his cheek, cooing over him, and he bats your hand away with a groan, smiling.

“Go away,” he grumbles, but it's so full of warmth that the words carry no weight whatsoever.

“But then you can't cuddle me in your sleep,” you say, pouting exaggeratedly. “Unless… you don't wanna cuddle me any more?”

You gasp dramatically, leaning away from him for full effect, and then yelp when he grabs you by the waist and pulls you into his side, preventing you from moving away.

“Don't say silly things like that,” he reprimands teasingly, laughter tinging the ends of his words. He kisses your shoulder. “Of course I want to cuddle you. It's the only thing I'll be doing every night from now on.”

“That's awfully cheesy,” you point out. “Sap.”

“It's all your fault.”

“Huh, I suppose it is,” you say proudly, snuggling into your boyfriend. “Glad to know I have such an effect on you.”

Seungcheol sighs, fond, and kisses your shoulder once again. “Oh, if only you knew.”

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @kellesvt @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect @dokyeomkyeom @suraandsugar @tulsa24 @melodicrabbit @dokyeomkyeom @hopeless-foolery @aaa-sia

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beloveds-embrace · 3 months ago

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Fae 141 x human reader for @nightunite <33 reader gets another pet! masterlist

The first time it landed on the palace roof, the moon hid behind clouds, and Thrain stood at your side like a silent shadow, antlers gleaming red and wet with mist. He growled low in his throat, a sound that seemed more annoyed than alarmed, and you followed his eyes upward to the fluttering thing that drifted down like a wayward lantern.

It was enormous; that was the first thing you noticed.

Wings the size of shields shimmered in hues of cream and gold, like candlelight trapped in silk. Its body was thick and furred, round eyes glowing faintly like dew-lit pearls. It made no sound- only that occasional fwmp of wings as it settled, slowly, onto the stone courtyard outside your chambers.

You stepped forward, barefoot over the chilled flagstones, nightgown trailing behind you like fog. Thrain didn’t follow, but his growl deepened- until the moth turned, angled its head, and blinked at you with a very soft, very dumb expression.

Then it lit up.

Warm. Golden. Like sun through eyelids.

You let out a soft laugh- one of the few real ones in weeks, absolutely delighted. And Thrain, ever your grumpy guardian, gave a dramatic huff and turned his back, as though deeply offended.

You named it Glowy, of course. Because it did, indeed, glow very lovely and bright.

Glowy followed you the way shadows followed light- gentle, constant, oblivious to the fuss it caused. It adored Thrain, even though Thrain tolerated it with the weariness of an older sibling forced to share space with a chatty toddler. It waddled after you on fuzzy legs, or hovered beside your balcony, wings throwing warm light across your papers when you worked too late.

You loved it.

On the other hand, the court hated it.

Glowy’s light- soft and pleasant to you, like the sun taking form just for you- made fae eyes sting. It blurred their glamours, dulled their illusions and spells, made the more vain courtiers look like wilted versions of themselves. Nobles flinched as you passed, shielding their faces with jeweled sleeves. Glowy didn’t care. It only blinked and hummed and bumped its big, fluffy head against your shoulder like an affectionate sheep obsessed with its shepherd.

Even Queen Mother nearly stumbled into a column trying to dodge its path, and you swore you heard it let out a smug little trill, though you’d never dare say it outloud.

Truthfully, you thought the boys might command it gone- even if they haven’t even said anything about Thrain.

But that was not the case, you’d learn.

Johnny was the first to try and joke about it. “It’s like bein’ followed by a bloody fireplace,” he grumbled one night, shielding his eyes as Glow trotted in behind you during a late dinner. “M’gonna go blind, queenie. That what ye want?”

You only smiled and fed Glowy a slice of sugared fruit under the table. He glared but said nothing more.

Kyle muttered under his breath whenever it fluttered too close, ruffled his clothes, or knocked over his ink with a stray wing- but you noticed, once, how he draped a shawl over it when it curled up outside your door on a rainy evening. Even if he kept stumbling around a little because of Glowy’s light.

Simon didn’t speak of it at all. But he watched- closely. Especially when the court muttered too loudly or when Thrain and Glowy both flanked you in the halls, glowing and growling. One day, you caught him standing by the stables, watching Glowy preen its wings in the sun. He didn’t approach. But he didn’t walk away, either. And in the end, despite his own eyes squinting from Glowy’s glow, he offered it a big, freshy leaf.

John, then, watched you.

He saw how you smiled when you leaned against Glowy’s side during long meetings. How your fingers idly stroked its soft fur like a comfort you didn’t realize you sought. And when the light filled your room late into the night, pouring warm and golden through the windows, he stood at the threshold of your chamber, hand on the door- just watching.

Then, he sighed. Fuck.

Thrain still growls at them if they don’t soften their voice when speaking to you. It haunts them if they take up too much of your time, and stomps its hooves into the rotting earth underneath him whenever and stares into every nook and cranny of their souls when you are sad.

Now, there is another creature whose approval they need to get?

#cod x reader #cod x you #cod #noona.writes #tf 141 x reader #tf 141 x you #tf 141 #cod imagines #poly!141 x you #poly!141 x reader #poly!141 #poly 141 x you #poly 141 #poly 141 x reader

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genshinluvr · 6 months ago

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Marks of the Dragons

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader, Neuvillette x Isekai'd!Reader, Zhongli x Isekai'd!Reader, Zhongli x Isekai'd!Reader x Neuvillette

Summary: Zhongli and Neuvillette marked you— they marked you by biting you. What lead up to that situation? You went on a trip to Chenyu Vale with the Chief Justice of Fontaine and Funeral Consultant of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.

Note: My work schedule has been very inconsistent that I wasn't able to work on anything :< This smut is probably awful since I haven't written smut in so long. Before anyone new asks, yes, Kinich, Sethos, and Ororon are officially in the harem! Since I unknowingly manifested both Zhongli and Neuvillette's banners have a rerun together, I had to write a smut with the two finest men in Genshin. This idea is partially from the unpublished Zhongli smut I had in mind two years ago, so I had to make it a thing for both Zhongli and Neuvillette >:3 MINORS, DO NOT INTERACT. Anyway, I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr), Ko-Fi (also Genshinluvr/Aaliah_exo), and AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warning: Horribly written smut, anal, oral, double penetration, blowjobs, hair pulling, choking, Zhongli and Neuvillette have two dicks, biting, marking, maybe mating???

Word Count: 7.1k

Everyone is lounging in the living room, sitting close to the fireplace, taking in the heat and cozy atmosphere—except for you. There’s an empty spot beside every man in the room, hoping you’ll cuddle up beside them. You’re still in your bedroom, preparing for the hangout. It’s freezing in the abode, which surprises everyone because who knew it could become freezing in the teapot? Heck, it looks like it might even snow by the looks of it.

Scaramouche sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What’s taking [Y/N] so long? We’ve been sitting here for twenty minutes, and they still haven’t left their bedroom.”

“Maybe they fell asleep?” Venti suggests, looking around the room.

The lights in the living room are off. The only source of light illuminating the dark room is the fireplace, casting a warm glow.

Kaeya yawns, stretching his arms before sprawling out on the couch, rubbing his eye with his knuckle. “If [Y/N] doesn’t come out of their room by the time the clock strikes eight, I’m going to fall asleep,” Kaeya mutters, leaning over to snatch the fluffy blanket from Diluc’s lap, earning a glare from the redhead.

Diluc sharply exhales from his nostrils, pinching the space between his eyebrows. “Why can’t you get your own blanket instead of taking other people’s belongings?” Diluc grumbles, reaching over to yank the blanket from Kaeya’s body.

Dainsleif rolls his eyes before getting up from his spot and heading towards the staircase. The men stop what they’re doing, watching the blond man walk up the stairs. “Since everyone is impatient, I’ll check on them myself.”

Upstairs in the estate, you stare at your reflection in the mirror, pulling up your turtleneck. You rarely wear turtlenecks, but since it’s freezing in the abode, you might as well wear one. You leave your bathroom and grab the nearest jacket. Your neck is aching, and it hurts each time you twist or tilt your head. You zip up your jacket, making sure the bandage is hidden beneath both your jacket and turtleneck.

You peek at your reflection in the full-length mirror, eyeing yourself from head to toe as you walk to your dresser for your fuzzy socks. You dig through the dresser, searching for the specific fuzzy sock you cherish (it kept your feet warm well because the men would complain about your feet being cold every time it brushed against their legs).

A gentle knock from your bedroom door pulls you out of your thoughts. You quickly put on your socks before rushing to answer the door. You take a deep breath and open the door, your heart thundering in your chest when you see Dainsleif in front of you.

You smile at the blond man. “Hey, Dainsleif! Sorry for taking so long. I was looking for a comfortable jacket to wear along with these fuzzy socks, " you say, looking down at your sock-clad feet.

Before Dainsleif can say anything, Childe pops up from the corner, placing a rough hand on Dainsleif’s shoulders, causing him to grunt and glare at the Harbinger. “You took your sweet time, snookums. Were you trying to look pretty for me?” Childe teases, winking at you.

You playfully roll your eyes, shaking your head, only to stop abruptly and let out a sharp breath. Dainsleif and Childe look at you worriedly, scanning you from head to toe for any injuries. You clear your throat, plastering a fake smile on your face.

“You two have nothing to worry about, I promise. I’m done getting dressed, and we can all go downstairs now. Let’s go before the others become restless,” you say, stepping out of your bedroom and walking past Dainsleif and Childe.

As you’re descending the stairs, both Childe and Dainsleif trade looks with one another before following behind you. Once the three of you reach the living room, everyone sighs in relief and gestures for you to sit beside them. You raise your eyebrows, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I’m not sure if I can sit with every one of you at the same time.” You say, waddling farther into the living room. “Who am I sitting with first?” You ask, sitting on the armrest where Dottore is seated.

Dottore chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you onto his lap. “It looks like you subconsciously made your decision already, kitten. The others can wait.” He states, smirking at the other men in the room.

Itto shoots up from his spot. “Hey, that’s not fair!”

Dottore shrugs, shooting a shit-eating grin in Itto’s direction before continuing to have you wrapped up in his arms. When Itto opens his mouth to protest once more, Thoma pats his shoulders and shakes his head as if he’s telling Itto to let it slide for now. Itto grumbles and slumps in his seat, hugging the plush onikabuto to his chest with a pout.

Ayato clears his throat. “How about this? Each of us gets to have our turn with [Y/N] for twenty minutes,” Ayato suggests.

Ororon sighs, resting his head on the armrest. “There’s over thirty of us in the room. Do you really think we’ll be sitting here for hours just to have our turn to snuggle with [Y/N]?” Ororon grumbles, narrowing his eyes at Dottore.

Sitting near the fireplace, Sethos props his feet on the ottoman and chuckles. “Heck, if that means I get my chance to snuggle with my cuddle bug, I don’t mind waiting for my turn,” Sethos says, winking at you.

Heat rushes to your cheeks as you sink farther against Dottore’s chest. Dottore’s chuckle rings in your ears, causing your face to feel even hotter. Kinich sighs, leaning back against the sofa while Ajaw nags his ears off about who knows what. Kinich briefly glances at you before something catches his attention. Kinich suddenly sits up straight, leans forward, and squints at you for a moment.

You can’t help but squirm under his gaze, feeling slightly awkward now that the others are starting to realize what Kinich is doing. Everyone’s eyes are all on you, trying to see what Kinich is staring at aside from you.

You awkwardly clear your throat. “Is there something on my face?” You mutter, subconsciously reaching up to your face, feeling around for anything. Aside from the skincare products Xiao and Zhongli bought for you a few days ago while in Liyue, you feel nothing.

“Are you alright by any chance?” Kinich asks, now standing in front of you and Dottore.

You blink up at Kinich owlishly before nodding your head. “Yeah, I’m okay! W-Why did you ask?”

Kinich continues to scrutinize you, his eyes scanning you from head to toe— looking at the smallest details on you. Kinich reaches forward and caresses your face in his hands, catching you off guard. You gulp, internally praying that he doesn’t notice the bandaids hidden beneath your turtleneck.

Kinich tilts your head up and turns your head from side to side while inspecting every little thing about you. Your heart continues to race in your chest, and your face gets hotter and hotter by the minute. Due to the excessive movement, the collar of your jacket and turtleneck conveniently slide down, making the bandages visible to everyone.

“What happened to your neck?” Thoma gasps as people start to gather around you.

Kinich lets go of your head and takes a step back when Capitano brushes him to the side. Capitano kneels before you, caressing your face with one hand while unzipping your jacket with the other. Dottore hooks his finger underneath the collar of your turtleneck and pulls it down, revealing more of the bandage wrapped around your neck.

Baizhu furrows his eyebrows, inspecting the bandage. Capitano moves to the side so Baizhu can take a closer look at your supposed “injury.” You nervously peek from Baizhu’s shoulders, locking eyes with Zhongli and Neuvillette. The two men stand side by side, not saying a word. Are they going to let you handle this situation alone!? How are they so calm when you’re internally panicking?!

Baizhu pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs softly. “[Y/N], sweetheart, if you’re injured, you do not need to hide it from any of us— especially me. Your wounds could get infected if they’re not treated properly,” Baizhu chides, sitting at the edge of the seat beside Dottore while eyeing your bandaged neck.

“I’ll remove the bandages so Dr. Baizhu can properly treat your injury,” Capitano says, reaching for the corner of the peachy-beige bandage, ready to peel it off when you suddenly grab his wrist, stopping him.

You shake your head, eyes wide. “You don’t have to! I’m fine, I promise!” You squeak.

Pierro crosses his arms over his chest, scrutinizing you. “If you’re fine, then you would be okay with us taking the bandage off to inspect the wound,” Pierro says gruffly.

You swallow the lump in your throat, hesitantly releasing Capitano’s wrists and letting your hands fall onto your lap. Capitano proceeds to peel off the bandage, only to reveal another layer beneath. Capitano pauses and looks at you, not saying anything.

Xiao huffs. “If you were truly okay, then you wouldn’t need to have more than one layer of bandaid around your neck,” Xiao grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

Capitano continues where he left off, gently removing the bandage from your neck. You squeeze your eyes shut, knowing you will not be able to handle the other’s reaction to the marks on your neck. Once the bandage slowly reveals what’s underneath it, you hear sharp gasps from the men in the room.

Kaveh pushes Capitano out of the way while muttering an apology before ripping the bandage off completely, revealing two bite marks on each side of your neck. Kaveh gasps in horror, his eyes bugging out of his head.

“What kind of monster did this to you!?” Kaveh screams, cupping your cheeks in his hands as he forces you to look at him in the eyes.

Al Haitham sighs, pinching the space between his eyebrows while shaking his head. “For once, can you relax?” Al Haitham mutters, glaring at the blond architect.

Kaveh ignores Al Haitham’s comment as he continues to examine the bite marks on your neck. Kaveh gently brushes the marks on your neck, causing you to wince and softly hiss at the contact. Kaveh looks at Baizhu, giving him a pleading look.

Pantalone adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “I’m no doctor, but the bite marks look fresh. It looks irritated,” Pantalone mutters, stroking his chin.

“Who did this to you?” Tighnari asks.

You swallow the lump in your throat, heat rushing to your cheeks as you try to muster up an excuse. Surely, if the others knew who did this to you, they wouldn’t be too upset, would they? How are you supposed to explain this to the others when the perpetrators don’t look apologetic in the slightest? Heck, they look smug that the others found out about the bite marks on your neck.

“Those look like deep puncture holes. I don’t believe normal human teeth could do this,” Cyno mutters, pulling you out of your thoughts.

Gorou’s eyes widen as he nods. “You’re right! There’s no way any of us could have inflicted this type of… injury on [Y/N]!”

Heizou’s eyes light up as he walks toward you, his eyes remaining on your neck. “If you look closely, the teeth marks aren’t the same. One bite is larger than the other, and the canines don’t exactly match up. However, they seem to have a specific intention when leaving said bite marks on [Y/N]’s neck,” Heizou says, stroking his chin.

For the next five minutes, the men talk among themselves, trying to figure out who or what could have given you the bite marks. They continue to look and examine you, making you feel like a strange phenomenon they have ever laid their eyes on. Well, technically, you sort of are one because you’re not from their world.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you get those marks on your neck?” Aether asks, plopping down beside you.

You shift on Dottore’s lap, clearing your throat. “Uh…” you trail off, rubbing the back of your neck while subconsciously looking over at the two refined men two feet in front of you. For once, they’re not avoiding each other (well, Zhongli was the one avoiding). They stand beside each other, gazing at you intently, their eyes occasionally shifting to the marks on your neck. Of course, they’re not speaking to each other. They’re trying to keep up an act.

Wriothesley raises his eyebrows. “Why do you keep looking at Monsieur Neuvillette and Mister Zhongli? Surely they’re not the ones who left those marks on you, are they?” Wriothesley sarcastically asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“So? Are you going to tell us how you got those marks on your throat?” Aether asks, shaking his head.

You have an inkling feeling that Aether knows who the culprits are but doesn’t want to say it. You look elsewhere, trying to come up with an excuse. While trying to find the excuse, you start to think about what led to you getting marked by the Chief Justice of Fontaine and the Funeral Consultant.

- Less than 24 hours ago -

Zhongli has offered to take you to Chenyu Vale after hearing you rave about the tea set Shenhe and Ganyu have gifted you when visiting the abode. Of course, the trip Zhongli initially planned was going to be just you and him. However, the Chief Justice of Fontaine wanted to tag along, and since Zhongli didn’t want to be rude, Zhongli reluctantly agreed to turn the trip for two into a trip for three.

“Ooh, twenty Chenyu Adeptea for fifteen hundred Mora?” You murmur, stroking your chin while the vendor talks your ears off.

Neuvillette grabs you by the shoulders before steering you away from the stall while clearing his throat. “While it may seem like a great deal, I wouldn’t recommend it,” Neuvillette mutters, ignoring the glare the merchant shoots in his direction.

“But it’s the same tea that Ganyu and Shenhe gifted me!” You protest, attempting to look at the stall, but Neuvillette shakes his head, turning your head to make you face forward.

Neuvillette sighed, muttering about merchants trying to lure unsuspecting victims into a scam— a scam he had once fallen for a year prior during Lantern Rite. Neuvillette looks around, searching for a certain idiot Archon Funeral Consultant around the area. Footsteps approaching you and Neuvillette grab both your and the Iudex’s attention.

Zhongli raises his eyebrows upon seeing the expression on Neuvillette’s face. “Is everything alright?” Zhongli crosses his arms over his chest.

You point at the stall behind you and Neuvillette. “Someone was selling packs of Adeptea for a great price! I was about to buy some, but Neuvillette steered me away from the merchant!” You explain, visibly upset.

Zhongli opens his mouth to scold Neuvillette, only for the Iudex to move out of the way to show the merchant and his stall. Upon laying his eyes on the familiar stall, Zhongli sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. For once, Zhongli is glad that Neuvillette decides to tag along on this trip. Who knows how much Mora you’ll end up spending and getting scammed in the end?

You continue to pout at Zhongli and Neuvillette, muttering about wanting to return to the abode with large quantities of Adeptea. Zhongli gestures to Neuvillette, letting the Iudex know that he’s got this handled.

Zhongli approaches you, grabs your hand, and tucks your hair behind your ear with a small smile. “Dearest, we’ve been out and about in Chenyu Vale for quite some time now. Are you hungry by any chance?” Zhongli asks, gazing at you intently.

“Huh. Now that I think about it, I am a little bit hungry…” you trail off, feeling your stomach rumble. “Yeah, I’m hungry.” You turn to Neuvillette, “What about you? Are you hungry as well, Neuvillette?”

The Chief Justice of Fontaine nearly cries with happiness. Not only is your attention taken away from the scam of a merchant, but you three are finally eating something after being away from the abode for hours. Granted, he did eat something prior to the trip, but walking around for hours can make a person hungry.

Neuvillette nods, “Yes, I am feeling quite peckish myself,” Neuvillette replies.

Zhongli ignores Neuvillette’s response to your question as he smiles and caresses the back of your head before slipping his hands into yours and pulling you towards a small pavilion. “I know just a place to satiate your hunger.”

Neuvillette sighs, rolling his eyes. Even though the idiot Funeral Consultant reluctantly agreed to have Neuvillette join in on this trip, Neuvillette does not appreciate the fact that he was the third wheel on this trip. Being the angel that you are, you make sure that both Neuvillette and Zhongli get the same shared attention.

Everything else after ends up being a blur for you. You don’t remember what you ordered at the small restaurant, but you do remember drinking a particular tea that is not of Chenyu Vale origin— well, it’s not grown locally. The tea has an earthy taste with a hint of sweetness to it. It’s not your cup of tea (hehehe, get it? Cyno would be so proud of you), but it’s not like you hate it.

After eating and taking a small break from your once-in-a-century exercise, you, Zhongli, and Neuvillette stop by various stalls around Chenyu Vale.

Despite the beautiful region being known for its tea, the three of you ended up coming across an interesting stall. The merchant is selling fragrances from all over Teyvat. Neuvillette and Zhongli have no interest in fragrances, but they’re quite intrigued by the ones you would pick up and examine with curiosity.

“Ah! I see you’re looking at the Glaze Lily and Rainbow Rose fragrance! It’s quite popular among the female population in Chenyu Vale!” says the merchant, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

You grab a slip of white paper from the stand and spray the perfume onto the paper before taking a whiff of the popular fragrance. You close your eyes, taking in the scent. It smells lovely. The Glaze Lily and Rainbow Rose scented perfume reminds you of the two men standing behind you— not because the flowers are from the two men’s respective regions, but because they go well together, if that makes sense.

The merchant leans on the stall, gazing at you curiously. “According to my customers, the scent varies from person to person. One customer told me she can smell Glaze Lily more than the Rainbow Rose. On the other hand, a recent customer informed me that she can smell the Rainbow Rose more than the Glaze Lily!”

You open your eyes and tilt your head, confused. You can smell both the Glaze Lily and Rainbow Rose— none of the scents were overtaking the other. While the perfume is quite fragrant and lovely, you don’t think this is for you. Plus, it’s pretty popular among the Chenyu Vale women, and you want something a little more… original. You want a signature scent that no other person on Teyvat can mimic.

“I can smell both the Glaze Lily and Rainbow Rose just fine. However, this fragrance isn’t for me. Do you have something unique? I want something original, something people cannot mimic,” you say, placing the perfume down on the stall.

The woman strokes her chin before squatting down, digging through the stall while you rock back and forth on the balls of your feet. Even though this trip is initially for the Adeptea, you couldn’t help but feel drawn to the fragrance stall. Something about it captivates your attention and makes you want to buy something— definitely not because the fragrance bottles are beautiful (it is).

You peek at Neuvillette and Zhongli, scratching the back of your head with a sheepish smile. “Sorry if this is taking a while. I wanted something unique for myself,” you mutter, feeling heat rush to your cheeks.

Neuvillette smiles and strokes your hair. “There is nothing to apologize for, my dear. It’s not like we’re in a rush to return to the estate,” Neuvillette replies.

Zhongli nods, approaching you and Neuvillette. “I have booked us an inn for the night. We will not be able to return to the abode around this time, especially in weather like this,” Zhongli says, gazing at the now gray skies.

Your eyes widen at the realization. If the three of you have to stay at an inn for the night, how is that going to turn out? Speaking of the inn, will you three have separate bedrooms? Since Zhongli booked the room, are you sharing a room with Zhongli, and does Neuvillette have his own room? Or—

The merchant’s head peeks from the stall, her eyes wide with excitement. “I have found just the scent for you, my dear customer!” The woman fixes her disheveled hair before handing you a round perfume bottle.

The bottle is a periwinkle color with gold and silver flecks scattered around the bottle. Silver vines wrapped around the bottle, and on those vines are cor lapis and noctilucous jade carved to look like blooming flowers. Zhongli raises his eyebrows while scrutinizing the bottle in your hands.

“If you don’t mind me asking, miss, what makes this fragrance special out of all the fragrances you sell?” Zhongli asks, never taking his eyes off the bottle.

You continue to examine the perfume bottle, enchanted by the appearance of the bottle. It has a sparkly squeeze bulb, tempting you into spraying it onto yourself. You and the merchant make eye contact. The woman grins and gestures to you to try it out yourself. You shrug, not thinking much of it, before pointing the perfume bottle at yourself and squeezing the squeeze bulb. You wince when you realize you sprayed way more than you intended.

“This fragrance is unique because whoever is wearing this scent will not only smell enchanting on the wearer, but only a small handful of people will be… charmed by the scent and the wearer,” she says, nodding with satisfaction.

You sniff the perfume, trying to figure out what the notes are. You’re no perfume expert, but it does have a bit of a unique smell to it. Zhongli and Neuvillette raise their eyebrows at the woman’s strange explanation of the so-called “unique” fragrance.

“I don’t think this perfume is something I was looking for. Perhaps it’s not meant to be,” You sigh, handing the bottle back to the woman.

The woman frowns, taking the bottle from your hands and storing it in the cabinet of the stall. You, Zhongli, and Neuvillette bid the woman goodbye before heading to the inn. What a shame. You thought you were going to return to the abode with new perfume to wear, but you weren’t too fond of the scent of the perfume. It has an earthy scent, almost reminding you of what the air would smell like after heavy rain. If you remember correctly, there is a hint of mint and maybe Qingxin, if you’re not mistaken.

Zhongli wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him. “Mora for your thoughts?”

“Oh, it’s nothing! I’m just a little disappointed that I ended up not buying anything from the fragrance merchant. It’s a shame the ‘unique’ fragrance isn’t as nearly special as what she made it out to be,” you reply, allowing Zhongli to steer you to your next destination as the skies get darker.

Neuvillette walks beside you, almost sandwiching you between him and Zhongli. The Chief Justice of Fontaine drapes his arm over your shoulder, giving them a comforting squeeze. “I understand that you’re disappointed about the outcome, but think of it this way: you have plenty of Mora to spend before we return to the estate tomorrow afternoon,” Neuvillette says.

You stop in your tracks, letting his words sink in. Neuvillette’s not wrong, and besides, you still haven’t bought the Adeptea you’ve been wanting to buy. After all, that was the point of your trip to Chenyu Vale, but the three of you were sidetracked by the things around you. You guess this is what happens if you travel with men older than Teyvat.

You take three steps forward before turning to look at Zhongli and Neuvillette. “What you said is true, but I guess that is tomorrow me’s problem,” you shrug, “anyway, let’s go to the inn! It’s starting to sprinkle out here!” You grab their wrists before dragging them towards the large building.

The gust of wind allows both men behind you to catch a whiff of the perfume you sprayed on yourself. They freeze in their tracks, and the grips on your hands tighten, causing you to stumble back into them.

You blink, craning your head up to see what they’re doing. Zhongli and Neuvillette bend down to sniff your neck. Goosebumps appear all over your body when you feel them hover near your neck to smell the perfume you have on. The tip of Neuvillette’s nose pokes your neck, making you involuntarily freeze. Their hot breaths fan over your neck, sending shivers down your spine. Heat rushes to your cheeks as you try to remain calm while they continue to sniff your neck like a bloodhound. Without realizing it, Zhongli grabs underneath your chin and tilts your head up, exposing more of your neck.

Zhongli presses his nose against your neck, taking in deep breaths and breathing in the intoxicating scent of the perfume. Neuvillette closes his eyes, burying his nose into your collarbones and letting the smell of the perfume flood into his nose. You gulp, your heart thundering against your chest the more the two men press up against you.

“What’s gotten into you two?” You breathe, letting out a shaky sigh.

Neuvillette and Zhongli ignore your question as they continue to bury their faces into your neck, occasionally licking and biting your neck. You lay your head on Zhongli’s shoulders while he continues to keep your head tilted back as he peppers kisses from your jawlines to your shoulders.

“If you two want to have your ways with me, at least do it indoors and not where people can see,” you sputter, feeling heat pool into your lower regions.

Upon hearing your words, Zhongli and Neuvillette stop what they’re doing and pull you to the inn. Zhongli checks you three into the inn and grabs the keys from the innkeeper’s hands before dragging you to the elevator with Neuvillette at your side. Once the elevator door closes, both men proceed with what they are doing.

Neuvillette stands behind you, his left arm around your waist while his right hand slips underneath your shirt. Zhongli stands before you, cupping your cheeks with both hands and pressing his lips against yours, devouring your lips. Zhongli grabs your right leg and wraps it around his waist, grinding against you. Your jaws drop, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Zhongli takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, grinding harder against your heat.

Before things can escalate, the elevator bell chimes, alerting the three of you that you have arrived at the floor where your rooms reside. Neuvillette and Zhongli drags you out of the elevator and to the room where you three will be staying. Now that you have some time to process what happened in the elevator, you can’t help but notice prominent tents forming in Zhongli and Neuvillette’s pants.

Neuvillette tosses you over his shoulders while Zhongli unlocks the door to the room. Once the door unlocks, Zhongli and Neuvillette step into the room. Neuvillette closes the door with his foot and locks the door without looking. You lay limp over Neuvillette’s shoulders. A wave of embarrassment washes over you when you feel how soaked your panties are.

Neuvillette tosses you onto the bed, making you bounce. You scan the room of the inn you’re staying at, realizing there’s only one bed in the room. Now that you think about it, Zhongli didn’t hand an extra key for another room at the inn. It seems like Zhongli never booked extra rooms— the three of you are going to sleep in the same bed for the night at the inn.

You prop yourself up on the bed, gazing at both men with wide eyes after seeing that they have removed their coats and are in the process of taking their gloves off and rolling their sleeves up to their elbows.

“What has gotten into you two? You two are acting like you’re in a rut!” You squeak.

Neuvillette chuckles, shaking his head. “There’s nothing to worry about, dearest. Are we, your lovers, not allowed to savor this moment between us?” Neuvillette asks.

You warily look at Neuvillette. “I’m not against having intimate moments with both of you, but you two are acting strange,” you murmur. “It’s not like you two to display such affection in public. I am not against it, but you two are usually composed.”

Zhongli clears his throat, unbuttoning his shirt to expose his bare chest. “Forgive me, my dear. The perfume you have on is quite intoxicating. I cannot help but feel like I’m under a spell when I catch a whiff of the fragrance,” Zhongli says, now standing at the edge of the bed.

Zhongli rests one knee on the bed before grabbing you by the ankles. Without warning, Zhongli yanks you towards the edge, emitting a surprised squeak from you. Zhongli chuckles and rubs your cheek with his thumb before leaning down to pepper your face with gentle kisses. Zhongli grabs your hand and laces his fingers with yours before pressing his lips against yours.

While you and Zhongli kiss, Neuvillette kneels before you and spreads your legs apart. Neuvillette slides his hands underneath the bands of your shorts before roughly tugging them down to your ankles and tossing them behind him. The Chief Justice of Fontaine then loops his index and middle finger around the bands of your panties, sliding them down your legs, gulping at the sight of your dripping entrance.

Neuvillette licks his lips before spreading your legs wider, leans forward, and latches his lips onto your entrance. You break your and Zhongli’s kiss, gasping when you feel Neuvillette’s warm tongue lapping and swirling at your entrance. Zhongli takes that as an opportunity to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. You softly whimper when Neuvillette penetrates your heat with his tongue while pressing his nose against the engorged and throbbing nerve.

Zhongli groans after freeing his throbbing cocks from his underwear. Your eyes grow wide, completely forgetting that Zhongli has more than one cock. Fuck, how could you forget so easily? Wait, if Zhongli has two of them, does that mean Neuvillette also has two cocks? What if he has more than two?

Zhongli taps your lips with the tip of his cock, signaling you to open your mouth. You open your mouth and stick your tongue out. Zhongli slides his cock into your mouth, moaning when the warmth of your mouth engulfs his cock. While sucking Zhongli’s cock, you reach for his second cock and begin pumping it at a steady pace.

You nearly choke on Zhongli’s dick when you feel something penetrate your wet heat. You turn to see Neuvillette gently sliding his index and middle finger into your entrance, slow enough not to hurt you. He stretches your entrance, making sure you’re ready for what’s to come. Zhongli pushes your head down on his cock, making you swallow more. You wince, nearly gagging. You pause for a moment and close your eyes, trying to collect yourself.

You pull away from Zhongli’s cock before bringing the other one into your mouth to continue where you have left off. Zhongli wipes the stray tear in the corner of your eyes, pressing a kiss on your head as a silent apology for being a teeny bit rough on you. Even though he wasn’t rough on you in the slightest, he didn’t want to cause you any discomfort while doing anything intimate with you.

Neuvillette pulls away from your groin, pulling his fingers out of your entrance. Neuvillette sucks on his soaked fingers, maintaining eye contact with you while your mouth is occupied with sucking Zhongli’s second cock. Neuvillette stands up and unbuckles his belt, unzips his pants, and pulls his pants and underwear down. Unsurprisingly, two cocks spring from the confinement of his pants, slapping his lower abdomen. The mushroom tips of his cock are bright red and leaking with pre-cum.

Oh, you are not going to make it out alive. Hell, someone’s going to have to carry around Chenyu Vale and back to the abode after today. You subconsciously pull Zhongli’s cock out of your mouth and glance at Zhongli’s cocks, then at Neuvillette’s cocks. Who has bigger dicks between the two of them?

Zhongli raises his eyebrows at you, pulling your hair into a ponytail and tilting your head up. “What are you thinking about?” Zhongli mutters, his voice thick with lust.

You stare at Zhongli, trying to come up with an excuse. Neuvillette chuckles, rubbing his hands on your thighs as he parts your legs. Neuvillette grabs one of his cocks and rubs them against your folds, coating his aching cock with your slick.

You shake your head, heat rushing to your cheeks. “I wanted to know what’s causing you two to act this way, that’s all,” you finally sputter out an excuse.

Zhongli continues to gaze at you with a raised eyebrow, tapping your bottom lip with the tip of his cock. You reluctantly open your mouth, still hoping that Zhongli bought your poor excuse of a response. While you are curious about what made Zhongli and Neuvillette act so strange, like an animal in a rut, you don’t want the two men to get competitive over who has a bigger package.

After a few minutes of Neuvillette rubbing his cock between your folds, Neuvillette nudges your entrance with the bulbous tip of his cock. You’re too busy sucking and licking Zhongli’s cock to notice that Neuvillette is about to bury his cock inside you. Without warning, Neuvillette slides his thick cock into your pulsating entrance. The smooth and moist walls of your entrance clenches around Neuvillette’s cock, making him tense and bury his face into your neck, groaning. After Neuvillette is balls deep inside you, he relaxes and reaches for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours.

“You’re very tight; relax for me, dearest,” Neuvillette murmurs into your ears, his chest rapidly rising and falling.

You whimper, taking Zhongli’s cock out of your mouth while writhing beneath Neuvillette’s body. “It hurts, Neuvillette,” you whine, squeezing your eyes shut as you dig your nails into his back.

Neuvillette kisses the side of your head as he reassures you. Neuvillette reaches down and starts pinching and rubbing your swollen bundle of nerves. You squeeze and pulse around his cock, both legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer to you. You and Neuvillette groan when Neuvillette is now buried at the hilt.

Neuvillette wraps his arms around your waist before pulling you farther up the bed. Neuvillette lays on his back with you lying on top of him. He tangles his fingers in your hair before crashing his lips against yours. While you and Neuvillette are messily making out, Zhongli completely strips off his clothes and comes up behind you.

Zhongli lifts his hand and slaps your right ass cheek, causing you to jolt and break the kiss between you and Neuvillette. Zhongli chuckles and shakes his head, placing both hands on your waist before gently bouncing you on Neuvillette’s cock. You softly moan, slowly riding Neuvillette’s cock with the help of Zhongli.

Once you’re used to Neuvillette’s size, you start to take over, increasing the speed. Neuvillette wraps one arm around your waist while the other is on your shoulder, forcing you to stay in one place as he pistons his cock into your wet heat.

Your slick trails down your leg, soaking Neuvillette’s pubic hairs and lap. Neuvillette takes the opportunity to slide his second cock into the same hole, causing you to tense and dig your nails into his shoulders.

Zhongli spreads your ass cheeks and spits. He reaches down and gathers your slick and rubs your ass hole. You knew this day would come, but you didn’t know that it was going to happen today. You squeeze your eyes shut and bury your face in Neuvillette’s neck after feeling Zhongli’s cock probing at your ass.

Zhongli slowly inserts his cock, stretching out your ass. You groan and bite down on Neuvillette’s shoulders, sending shivers down Neuvillette’s spine. As Zhongli continues to slowly sink his cock into your ass, Neuvillette licks your neck and takes a deep whiff of the intoxicating scent of your skin and the perfume. Neuvillette continues to thrust his cocks into your entrance; the sound of skin-to-skin and squelching fills the air, accompanied by occasional moans and whimpers from the three of you.

Zhongli gathers your hair into a ponytail and tilts your head to the side, revealing your neck to him. Zhongli leans down and presses his nose against your neck, taking deep breaths before letting out a breathy moan in your ears. Zhongli squeezes your chest with his unoccupied hand, rutting into your backside.

Zhongli and Neuvillette make eye contact and glare at each other. Zhongli looks away, gritting his teeth while Neuvillette continues to hammer his cocks into your heat. Zhongli stares at your neck for a moment, gradually slowing his pace.

Should he do it? Zhongli shakes his head, trying to ignore the voices in his head that are trying to convince him to mark you— claim you as his and only his. Zhongli thrusts hard, causing you to jolt forward and moan like an absolute whore.

“Fuck, Zhongli!” You whine, blindly reaching behind you to grip his bicep.

Fuck it. Zhongli buries his face into your neck and bites down on your neck. Your eyes widen, and you let out a strained gasp, whimpering in pain. Tears pool in your eyes the harder Zhongli bites down on your neck, drawing blood.

Neuvillette glares at Zhongli before mimicking Zhongli’s actions. The Chief Justice of Fontaine gently kisses the other side of your neck before biting your neck just as hard as Zhongli. You wail, thrashing in Zhongli and Neuvillette’s arms as they refuse to let go of your neck. You feel warm liquid gushing from your neck and streaming down your collarbones and chest.

It takes you approximately five minutes to realize that there’s a tight knot forming in your lower abdomen the more Zhongli and Neuvillette continue to piston their two cocks into your holes while biting your neck like a feral animal. Before you know it, the knot in your lower abdomen snaps, sending you into momentary bliss as you cum around Neuvillette’s cocks.

You don’t remember what happens after that. If you have to think hard, you’re certain that Zhongli and Neuvillette switch places to continue to rail you through the night at the inn. Whoever’s in the nearby rooms, you sincerely apologize for causing a disturbance with your two lovers. You really hope you won’t get a complaint letter or call from the innkeeper.

- Present -

Kazuha waves his hand in front of your face after you blanked out for who knows how long. “Hello? Are you still here with us?” Kazuha teasingly asks, chuckling.

You snap out of your thoughts and clear your throat, looking away. There’s no way in hell you’re telling them the truth about how you got the bite marks on your neck. Albedo and Baizhu nudge the others away from you to give them room to inspect the bite marks on your neck. Baizhu sighs and tilts your head side to side to get a better look while Changsheng scrutinizes you— oh, the snake knows the perpetrators. You give the snake a pleading look, hoping she won’t rat Neuvillette and Zhongli out.

Changsheng shakes her head with disapproval. “It’ssss quite obvioussss how [Y/N] received thosssse markssss on their neck,” Changsheng says, twisting her head to glance over at Neuvillette and Zhongli, narrowing her eyes at them.

“Oh? And who do you think it could be, Changsheng?” Lyney asks, raising his eyebrows at the white snake draping over Baizhu’s shoulders with interest and curiosity.

You contemplate whether you should lunge at Changsheng to keep her mouth shut, but you decide not to do it because you know that will make you look suspicious— well, even more suspicious than you already seem. Albedo hums, cleaning the bite marks on your neck before briefly pausing.

You look at Albedo, worried, “What’s with that look on your face?”

Albedo chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s nothing to worry about, [Y/N]. But the bite marks around your neck should be healed within a few days to a week. Depending on how deep the bites are, it could take up to almost a month for it to be healed,” Albedo says, handing the white gauze to Baizhu.

You’re not entirely sure if the bites will heal because when you glanced in the mirror, the bite marks were glowing. Even though the ache didn’t last as long, it does ache a lot— probably not as much as yesterday, but it’s aching.

“The two of you bit [Y/N], didn’t you?” Wriothesley asks, raising his eyebrows at Zhongli and Neuvillette, the corner of his lips quirking up.

Neuvillette clears his throat, crossing his arms over his chest. “I would do no such thing,” Neuvillette replies.

Everyone in the room raises their eyebrows at the Chief Justice of Fontaine, not believing his response. Zhongli, on the other hand, sighs and chooses not to reply to Wriothesley’s comment. Despite choosing to stay silent, the red ears and cheekbones say another.

Childe pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, glaring at Zhongli and Neuvillette, steam practically coming from his ears. You shut your eyes, hoping no one will start a fight after discovering who marked you.

“I can’t believe you two marked [Y/N] before I did!” Childe exclaims. “I should be the first one to do it, not you two!”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, temples beginning to throb as more people start to shout in agreement. Great, now your body is going to be littered with marks from these men. It’s not like you mind it… you’re just worried about who will try to make theirs more prominent for other people to see. You peek at Zhongli and Neuvillette, only to see them subtly smile at each other. Your mouth is agape after realization dawns on you.

They planned this entire thing.

Note: I understand that Neuvillette is probably not older than Teyvat like Zhongli, but for the sake of this fic, he is now. Wow, this is the final fanfic of the year and the first smut in forever. My goal for 2025 is to hopefully write and post more fanfics! And catch up with Genshin and HSR quests. The next fanfic I will be posting after this one is a Love&Deepspace one! Oh! Before I reopen my Discord server, I am looking for new moderators for my server! So, if you are interested in being a moderator for my server, here is the link to the form [HERE]! The deadline is January 7th, 2025! ^^ If you are chosen, I or one of my moderators will contact you through either Tumblr, Discord, or AO3 before the server is reopened! Anyway, To all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr), Ko-Fi (Genshinluvr/Aaliah_exo), and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist: @uniquecutie-puffs, @rubyninja1, @loveariel

Read more of my works on my Grand Masterlist, which contains every masterlist I have created! | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories there, too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

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scribbles-here · 6 months ago

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ɪ ᴘᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀʟᴀɴᴅ

summary: ever since you've woken up in Twisted Wonderland, you've been in awe. i mean how could you not? magic was everywhere!

your friends just shrug it off, thinking that there was nothing special about this world, but you, oh you can't help but giggle like a child whenever something explodes, whether on purpose or accidently, in potions class. of course, someone has noticed the joy at the smallest things in your eyes, and he can't help but admire that.

characters: Riddle, Leona, Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, and Malleus,

type: fluffy / gn reader / romantic / bullet points + lowercase intended / reader is yuu

a/n: had this in my head for a while but whenever im given the chance to write i forget everything, some characters might be ooc and like most of the stuff i just searched up lol

unedited

✁-----

[ⅰ] riddle rosehearts

riddle likes your enthusiasm about wanting to learn things. so when you came up to him with a bunch of questions regarding his world, you bet he pulled out a stack of books and plopped them on a nearby table.

"i hope your free for the next hour, [name], because we aren't leaving until your curiosity is satisfied."

he thinks you're going to whine and make an excuse to leave, but he's left silent when you nod and plop down on the chair, back straight and ready to learn at whatever knowledge was going to be thrown your way.

it ended being longer than an hour. you couldn't help yourself asking questions about certain things like wars, how magic came to be, how it was possible to for dorms to have their own dimensional pocket for its location, and blah blah blah.

and riddle couldn't help himself to answering your questions, which led to more questions and again blah blah blah.

finally, you guys get a break for snacks and refreshments, riddle decides to ask you about your world. is there truly no magic in your world? ...magicians? they give the allusion of magic without being able to use it? interesting.

and break ends without both you realize it, but this time, riddle's the student and you're the teacher.

[ⅱ] leona kingscholar

usually, leona doesn't care if you're around him whenever he's sleeping, he likes napping on you. as long as it's quiet and there's no ruggie bugging him about any assignments, he's a happy lion.

but he can't help flicking his tail in irritation at your constant staring at his tail and furry ears when he's trying to sleep. he knows you probably want to touch them.

yeah, leona knows he's good looking, but could've you done your sight-seeing when he's more awake and ready to tease you?

"hey, herbivore, is there something on my face?" leona opens an eye and stares at yours with his green one. he notices you eying his ears and with a loud sigh, he repositions himself to rest his chin on your belly. "only for 3 minutes"

giggling, you immediately reach over and stroked at his fuzzy ears. then comes the questions. "do you use different shampoo for your tail?" "how do you wear headphones?" "your tail is very pretty!"

while you chatted away and messed with his ears and hair, leona fell deeper and deeper into slumber. he'll answer your questions when he wakes up.

[ⅲ] azul ashengrotto

why did he agree to this? why couldn't he just tell jade and floyd to take and show you the beauty of the deep sea? but knowing them, they might pull something and that something was this!

stuck in a sunken ship, with you, in his octopus form! but he can't help but flush at your gentle petting towards one of his many arms, the appendage wrapping itself around your fingers. he curses at the twins under his breath.

azul tries to focus your attention on other things he has found in the ruined ship, "look at this jewel, isn't it shiny?" "no? well, uh, then what about these shells? don't they look prettier to look at?" but the more he brough items using his limbs, the more amazed you are.

"wow, your arms are useful, not to mention very beautiful." azul pauses, soaking up your words, heart fluttering. "this shade flatters you so much, i bet you look good in any color"

azul and you didn't realize how close you had gotten to each other, chests touching and eyes locked like nothing else mattered. "azul, you're very beautiful."

his heart clenches at your words, swallowing a bit and murmuring a small 'thank you.' azul's limbs tightening their grip around you. "thank you, [name]..."

[ⅳ] kalim al asim

he's a yapper like you, poor jamil is seconds away from slamming his head into a wall from your ramblings.

you're amazed at some crystal lamps he has? guess what's sitting on your desk in your dorm. what do you mean there's no such thing as enchanted jewelry in your world? don't worry [name] he'll cover you head to toe in enchanted jewelry.

but then kalim has an idea. what if he took you on a magic carpet ride? you liked it last time surely, you would want to do it again. you beam at the idea and before jamil could get a say in, kalim scoops your hand in his and drags you to the treasury where he keeps his magic carpet.

squealing in delight, the air smacked your face to which you buried yourself in kalim's clothing as you clung to him. kalim laughs with you as he guides his carpet up into the clouds. '[name] check out this view!'

you gasp at the sight; the moon was full and bright in the dark sky, stars twinkled in the dark dome, the air was crisp and cold. kalim feels his face warm up at the sight.

he'll take you anywhere you want as long as you stay by his side

[ⅴ] vil schoenheit

you remind him of rook in a way, always admiring the simplest things and always impressed by the tiniest things. he's seen the way you look at him with stars in your eyes whenever he makes sparkles fly in alchemy and potions class.

vil knows your curious and he absolutely thrives at your constant attention on whatever he's doing. be it doing his make-up, skin care routine, or doing schoolwork. as long as it's you, he doesn't mind your attention behind cameras.

currently, he's doing your daily skin care date night while you yapped away about potions and his skin care.

"you make your own skin care products right? that's amazing, i couldn't trust making my own and expect my face to come out as clear as yours." you laugh

vil huffs as his pinky scoops up some lip balm, then holds your chin gently with his pointer finger and thumb and applies the product to your lips. which he totally didn't need to do all of that when there was a small stick.

"that's why i'm here, [name], i could show you some tricks i've learned through trial and error."

[ⅵ] idia shroud

after over blotting and apologizing to everyone, idia expects his life to remain the same, occasionally having interactions with his peers, you have shown up to his dorm, thanks to ortho, and expressed your curiosity in his hair.

idia stutters out an incoherent explanation, tips of his hair burning a pink from the concentrated look in your eyes, and once he finishes, idia goes to close his door but jumps at your hand gripping onto the door. you weren't satisfied.

eventually you invite yourself inside and after countless questions about him, you mention technology from your world and that catches his attention.

he listens to your explanation, occasionally snickering at the outdated technology your world had. when you ask about the technology from this world, idia comes out a bit more from his shell and goes on a 3-hour rant about technology from Twisted Wonderland, with you occasionally asking questions.

idia hopes you don't notice the tips of his hair turning pink, but of course, you ask him, admiring the color.

[ⅶ] malleus draconia

he admires that about you. for someone who'll live for a short time, you always cherish what little time you have. malleus has lived for a long time; he's seen things come and go, and over the years, he seems to have lost the passion to seek and explore what life offered.

but being with you with your daily late-night walks, with your rambling of how you found potions being able to heal injuries and sicknesses absolutely mindboggling.

malleus listens attentively to your speech on mythical creatures back in your world, how dragons were your personal favorite, and how in your world, in fae mythology, it's rare for a fae to choose to become mortal. that certainly catches malleus' attention. (i literally just googled this so idk if this is accurate)

he's certainly never heard of this statement, but it does intrigue him. now your speech leads to questioning him or questioning about his title as one of the top five powerful mages. how do you get that title? are you born with it or do you have to prove yourself to professionals? can anyone receive this title?

malleus just smiles and answers your onslaught of questions, heart fluttering at your attentive gaze

Tip jar (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

#x reader #twst x reader #twst wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #leona kingscholar #malleus draconia x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud x reader #kalim al asim x reader #fanfiction #riddle rosehearts x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader

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sincerelybubbles · 4 months ago

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spencer x reader || alarms

late night working on a case, the hotel fire alarms on your floor won’t stop going off. what choice do you have other than to crawl to a pining spencer reid’s room to try and get some rest?

warnings: one slightly ? suggestive comment if you squint, mutual pining, not proof read. build up/background of a bubbly!reader i’ve been meaning to write about <3 v short n sweet fluffy!!!

————

“hey,” you whisper when spencer opens the door, pillow crammed under your arm. your sweats are rumpled, long shirt almost hitting your knees under an equally oversized academy shirt, hair mussed and eyes sleepy.

the sight makes his chest burn and his knuckles grip tight against the doorframe.

“hi?” spencer manages to respond, voice confused but still stepping to the side to let you inside automatically.

you shuffle by, pink fuzzy socks peeking over the tops of your dress shoes. it’s ridiculous, the sight of the fluff spilling over the edges of your mary jane’s (unbuckled), made even moreso by how cute he finds it.

“sorry, i know it’s early. the fire alarm on my building won’t turn off, it’s been almost 45 minutes.” you turn once you hit the small kitchenette in his hotel room and awkwardly clutch your pillow to your chest.

after a moment of squinting, eyes unaccustomed to the dim of the room and contactless, spencer realizes that you’re not holding a hotel pillow. rather, it’s covered in little pink daisies and looks far more comfortable than the rocks on his bed.

“i was wondering if i could take the chair in your room?” you ask, continuing despite how spencer’s mind is now racing with thoughts of your pink daisy sheets that he was aware of before tonight (this morning?) but wasn’t expecting to be reminded of when his mind is still hazy enough to crave the warmth of your body next to his.

“you—yeah.” spencer shakes his head in one, fast motion, rapidly switching to nodding when he realizes that could be misread as a no to your question. it makes him dizzy but wakes him up just enough to dig himself out of dreams. when he opened the door, there was a moment where his heart thudded in his chest, sure you were coming here to climb in his bed for other reasons.

not that you ever had before or that he thought you were the type to, of course not that—never that. it was just that his mind was stuck in a molasses of sleep that so frequently rewarded him of dreams where scenarios like that happen. or, even better, dreams where you two simply sit next to each other, your stocking-ed leg pressed against his pants, knocking together, hands intertwined, a warm glow emanating from somewhere for you to read to him by.

those dreams were the worst, just real enough that he could feel the love emanating from your breath, know that you want him close too, only to be yanked away with the spasms of beeps from his phone serving as his alarm.

“yes, of course you can stay here,” spencer finally says after his tragedy of a nod, moving past you and into the bed area of the room to yank the pillow he was using from the bed, “but you take the bed, i can take the chair.”

“no, spence, it’s like 3 in the morning and you’ll get a headache. i intruded on you, i’ll take the chair.”

spencer is shaking his head no before you finish, turning to stare at you. subconsciously, you mimic how he holds his pillow under his left arm and spencer makes a note to research if it’s actually true that attraction causes people to mimic each other.

and, fuck, this is why he had to put distance between you two because his brain can’t just be normal about things. you’re an affectionate person, spilling over with hugs and hands on arms and kisses on cheeks and he can’t help but analyze everything for a sign that it might be more.

“no, really, i’ll take the chair.”

you laugh at him, shaking your head and making your way closer. “let’s just share,” you suggest, tossing your pillow onto the side of the bed not made messy by spencer and rubbing your eyes with two closed fists, digging in deep. “i’m exhausted and we have to get back to it tomorrow. i’m not winning this fight and i can’t have my best brainiac impeded by a headache tomorrow.”

“no, it’s really—“

“spencer.” your eyes are earnest when you look at him, wide and tired and so so hypnotic. he can’t say no, not when you’re blinking up at him, only lit by the obnoxious street lights filtering in through the cheap hotel curtains, in your pajamas, taking in a tired, tiny voice.

“yeah, okay,” he says, forfeiting the back and forth and allowing himself to give in, just for tonight.

you yawn in response, hand coming up to cover your triumphant smile. you look exhausted, climbing into bed and shoving your feet under the sheets with much more aggression than necessary.

spencer climbs in after you, stretching his legs out and flexing his arm so his shoulder pops with a loud click. it’s a testament to how close you are to sleep that you don’t wince and tell him he shouldn’t do that—you always get onto him for it.

“hey,” spencer says after a moment, mind slowing but still moving fast enough to keep him on the cusp of sleep.

you makes a small sound, high pitched, as you roll over and press your forehead to his bicep. “what?” you say, voice half asleep, half complaint.

“is that my academy sweater? i’ve been looking for it everywhere.”

“mm,” you hum, head moving up and down against his arm. “you left it at my place. i like wearing it—miss you less when i do.” your voice is trailing off, spencer’s heart is pounding, and he nearly misses the soft sigh you let out before tacking on, “makes m’feel like yours.”

it could mean a million different things, spencer tells himself as he listens to your breath deepen and slow, but he lets himself imagine it means exactly what he wants it to as his eyes settle closed.

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rawjutsu · 4 days ago

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chapter three.

pairing: snow leopard hybrid!gojo x bunny hybrid!femreader

keep up here

the days leading up to your heat have been nothing short of torture. you’re hot—constantly. even with the apartment’s a/c blasting like it’s mid-winter, you keep swiping sweat from your hairline and upper lip, burning from the inside out. your fur-lined ears twitch in irritation, and your fluffy tail keeps flicking like it’s trying to shake off the tension simmering under your skin.

the worst part? satoru offered to stay over at nanami’s earlier than planned.

“y’know, i don’t mind crashing with nanamin if you want some time… alone.”

alone.

you both knew "alone" meant you, probably failing miserably, trying not to hump everything in sight.

neither of you has brought up what happened after the grocery trip. not the quiet tension. not the way you’d shuffled off to bed and turned on your vibrator like you weren’t absolutely feral. but he knew. his ears were massive—fluffy snow-leopard things that twitched at the slightest sound. and with the way he kept sneaking glances at you the next morning? yeah. he definitely knew.

at least he didn’t know that he was the one on your mind during it. and you intended to keep it that way.

“it’s okay,” you huffed, waving off his offer. “i’ll be fine.”

satoru just nodded and dove back into his rare ribeye steak like it was the most natural thing in the world.

and that was that.

to say it’s been tense between you two would be a criminal understatement. you're constantly tiptoeing around each other—him, surprisingly, not wanting to cross any lines, and you desperately trying not to pounce. your instincts are going haywire. bunny brain going brrrrr. you’re practically vibrating.

not that you’re attracted to him. no. definitely not.

…it’s just that your brain goes rogue when heat’s coming. all you can see is a tall—very tall—muscular predator hybrid who oozes sex appeal even when he’s sweaty and half-asleep. especially when he’s sweaty and half-asleep.

and the way he refuses to wear real clothes at home isn’t helping.

you were getting ready for work one morning when he wandered out of his room, freshly woken, arms stretching high over his head. your gaze trailed along the fuzzy white happy trail that peeked out above his pajama pants—and you nearly buckled from the sheer wave of arousal that hit.

your ears shot straight up. tail twitched. whole body stiff.

satoru noticed. of course he did. his own snowy ears gave the slightest flick—like a radar catching prey movement.

he didn’t say anything, but you know he was dying to make a teasing comment.

you didn’t let him.

“you look like shit,” you blurted, and bolted for the door.

work? that was its own hell. you were practically shoving scent blockers down your throat and drowning yourself in perfume. the idea of some sleazy customer catching even a whiff of your pre-heat state? immediate homicide. you were already sensitive to touch, jumpy at loud noises, constantly fidgeting with your ears. and your tail? it refused to cooperate. kept twitching and fluffing up in defense like a pissed-off little pompom.

your manager, utahime—a black cat hybrid—shot you a sympathetic look once as you popped in yet another blocker.

you’d only asked for one week off, even though she said you could take more. but you didn’t want to lose any more pay. you were already living off rice and frozen dumplings.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

when you get home, the apartment’s quiet. satoru’s gone—doing god knows what. you’ve never even asked what he does for work. something late at night that pays him enough to splurge on imported wagyu and fancy sake. whatever.

not really hungry, you decide to knock out some laundry instead.

you gather your basket and head for the door, only to curse under your breath when you remember—satoru still hasn’t made you a copy of the building laundry room key. you huff, drop the basket by the door, and head into his room to look for it.

the second you open the door, your ears flatten.

his scent hits you like a freight train—heavy, rich, and pure. the whole apartment always smells like him a little, but this? this is different. there’s nothing mixed in. just him. raw and undiluted. a snow-leopard hybrid’s natural musk, tinged with power and danger, makes your instincts go haywire.

you take shallow breaths and tiptoe to his desk, trying not to drown in it. eyes scanning for keys. focus, dammit.

but then—your gaze catches on the pile of laundry near his dresser.

it’s stronger there. heavier. muskier.

your ears twitch. your nose flares. your thighs press together.

you whimper, barely.

you stand there, locked in place, chewing your lip—and before your brain can yell bad idea, your hand darts out and snatches up a plain white tee.

you bury your face in it. inhale deeply. moan, just barely.

his cologne. his sweat. his natural scent. it floods you. fills your lungs. swirls in your brain like smoke. your tail curls in tight, and your ears tremble from the stimulation.

you don’t know how long you stand there, just breathing him in—until a sudden, humiliating warmth drips down your inner thigh, seeping through your shorts.

you gasp. ears shoot upright. eyes go wide.

fuck.

you yank yourself away from the shirt like it burned you, grab the keys from his desk, and bolt—nearly faceplanting as you stumble out of the room, body aching and slick and mortified.

he comes home around 1 a.m., kicking the door shut quietly behind him. he blinks at your laundry basket still by the door, confused. you’re usually a laundry-and-bed-by-midnight type.

then he walks into his room.

stops.

sniffs.

and freezes.

you were in here. he knows that scent. knows how it smells when it’s just barely starting to shift toward heat. knows it’s you. his tail swishes once—slow and deliberate.

you’re still awake. you’ve been staying up until nearly 3 a.m. lately. he knocks on your door twice.

“you alright?”

no answer.

he cracks it open and peeks in.

you’re sitting on your bed, dazed, holding something white. he moves closer to sit next to you.

“…that’s my shirt,” he says softly.

you don’t respond at first. then your lips move on their own.

“i took it.”

satoru raises a brow, waiting for more. you don’t give it. so he asks gently,

“uh huh. can i know why? i mean—i don’t mind, but… why?”

you finally look at him. and he nearly chokes.

you look wrecked. flushed. pupils blown wide. ears drooping low and twitching. mouth parted like you forgot how to speak.

“i don’t know…” you whisper.

satoru’s throat works hard. his snow-leopard tail flicks once. fuck.

“y/n… did your heat start already?”

you shake your head no.

“no. but… i’m close. really close.”

silence.

he can hear your heartbeat hammering through the room. your scent is getting sweeter. thicker.

he stands abruptly, nervous laugh spilling out as he runs a hand through his hair. his ears keep twitching like he’s trying to shake off a very dangerous idea.

“okay. i’m gonna go to nanami’s. like, now. doubt he’ll be thrilled about me showing up in the middle of the night, but—oh well.”

as he turns to flee, your hand shoots out and grabs his.

he jolts. like you’ve burned him.

you try to speak. but your voice doesn’t come. only a whisper of breath.

“i—…”

he stares at you, jaw tight, terrified of what he might do if he lets his guard drop. his tail lashes once behind him—his whole body tense and alert.

then, after a beat, he gently brushes his thumb over your hand.

“you can keep that,” he murmurs. “and… you can go to my room.”

your head snaps up.

“if you need,” he adds, voice strained, refusing to meet your eyes.

and then he’s gone.

you’re left in your room, sweaty and dizzy and clutching his shirt. your ears droop as your body shudders.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

you don’t sleep.

you can’t.

you try. curling up under your own covers, burying your face into the shirt you stole—his shirt. it still smells like him. not quite as strong now, but enough to soothe your instincts just a little. your tail stops twitching. your breathing slows.

but then… it starts again.

the throbbing low in your belly. the ache crawling under your skin. your inner thighs are sticky again, your body pulsing like it’s warming up for something devastating.

you flip your pillow over, trying to find a cool spot. tug the blankets off. press your palms to your burning cheeks.

nothing helps.

you’re not in heat yet—but you can feel it coming, like a wave swelling just offshore. building. creeping up.

it’s too much. you’re too aware of your body. your scent. the way your ears droop and flick. the way your tail can’t stay still. the way your thighs keep clenching.

you’ve done this before. you should be used to it by now. should be able to handle it like a normal person.

but this time is different.

this time, there’s a scent curled up in your lungs. him. satoru.

snow leopard hybrid. apex predator. the very last person your poor bunny brain should be obsessed with right now.

and yet…

your eyes flick toward your bedroom door.

“just five minutes,” you whisper, already lying to yourself.

you tiptoe down the hall. quiet. hesitant. every nerve buzzing.

his door creaks open, and the scent hits you all over again—warm and deep and dizzying. your knees go weak. you step inside anyway.

his bed is massive. big enough for two people and then some. the blankets are a mess. pillows everywhere. the soft hum of his scent makes your mouth water. you don't even try to fight it anymore.

you climb in.

carefully.

slowly.

just to lay down. just for a moment. that’s all.

the sheets are warm. heavy. safe.

you curl up on his side of the bed, bury your face into his pillow, and breathe. a soft sound escapes your throat—half-sigh, half-whimper. your body starts to relax.

and for a few minutes… it works.

the ache dulls. your nerves settle.

you finally close your eyes.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

you don’t know how long you’re out.

but you know exactly what wakes you.

it hits like a truck.

a white-hot bolt of pain-pleasure straight through your spine, knocking the wind from your lungs. you jerk upright with a gasp, clutching the sheets, heart hammering.

your ears snap up. your tiny tail—short, soft, and fluffy —twitches hard against the sheets, like your body’s trying to work out the overwhelming pressure building inside you..

your body is on fire.

there’s no gentle lead-up this time. no warning. your heat crashes into you full-force, primal and unrelenting. you feel soaked—panties clinging to you like wet fabric, your thighs trembling. everything hurts. you’re throbbing. aching.

your nipples are stiff, sensitive against your tank top. your skin feels too tight. you’re panting like you just ran a marathon.

“no no no—fuck—”

you press your legs together, trying to soothe it, trying to breathe, but that just makes it worse. the pressure between your legs flares white-hot. your hips twitch. your cunt pulses helplessly, slick drooling onto satoru’s bedsheets.

his bed. his scent.

your body wants him. no—it needs him. desperately. mindlessly.

you bury your face in his pillow and sob.

tears bead in your lashes as your hips roll against the mattress—your body chasing friction all on its own. you’re too far gone. there’s no turning this off. you can’t wait this out anymore. you’re a mess of slick and sweat and want.

“satoru,” you whimper, voice cracking. “need—fuck, i need…”

you clench the sheets in your fists, nose still buried in his scent, body wracked with wave after wave of need.

you know you should get up. call someone. do something responsible.

but all you can think about is how warm this bed is.

how big it is.

how easy it would be for him to pin you here and take you apart.

your plush little tail twitches again. your ears press flat against your head. you're mewling now, gasping into his pillow like it’s the only thing keeping you sane.

“please…”

the word slips out before you can stop it.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹

a/n: *rubs hands together very very evily*

#fresh out the oven𓂃 ࣪⋆🧁˚ ༘#snow leopard hybrid gojo #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk blurb #jjk smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo blurb #gojo fanfic #gojo smut #bunny reader #bunny hybrid reader

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whisperedmeg · 11 days ago

Text

LIBRARY RULES ⋆˚꩜｡ spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: you went to the library to escape the solitude of your apartment. but the last thing you were expecting was to spend the afternoon flirting over Foucault with a sweater vest-clad FBI agent who talks philosophy like it’s a love language.

genre: fluff | w/c: 1.2k

tags/warnings: none really! some light academic jargon and mentions of philosophical theory but you don’t need background on them for the story to make sense

a/n: went to the library and got inspired to write a quick little fluffy fic over the weekend 🤓 I chose the philosophy angle because I recently rewatched s4e8 ‘masterpiece’ where spencer mentions working on a philosophy BA. I dove into my old university notes while writing this, but my brain is a bit fuzzy on this stuff so pls excuse any inaccuracies lol. also specifically had season 2 glasses reid in mind (yet again). if glasses reid has no fans, I’m dead.

You only came to the library because your apartment is too loud. Or too quiet. One of those paradoxes you could never quite define — either way, you can’t focus, and you need to. So you packed up your laptop and headed for the only place where you could guarantee the atmosphere would match your mood: hushed, academic, and ever-so-slightly tense.

You love libraries. Especially the older buildings — all worn paper, polished floors, and endless mazes of shelves. There’s something sacred about it. But what you didn’t expect was for someone else to reach for the same book at the same time as you.

“Sorry—”

“I’m sorry—”

You freeze. So does he.

Your eyes meet.

He’s tall. Messy-haired. Wearing a sweater vest over a button-down and a pair of browline glasses that make him look like he walked straight out of a graduate seminar. His hand is still suspended halfway toward the spine of the book you’d both reached for — Foucault’s Discipline and Punish, of all things — and his mouth was already parting to apologize again when he seemed to realize you’re both staring at each other.

“You go ahead,” he says quickly, dropping his hand.

“No, really, you can take it,” you say. “Are you also writing an unhinged think piece on carceral theory and state surveillance?”

His mouth quirks at the corner. “Not currently. But now I’m intrigued.”

You tilt your head, feeling a little emboldened. “Do you think Foucault actually believed total surveillance was inevitable?”

He blinks, surprised. “I think he meant it more literally than people like to admit.”

“So, panopticism as a warning?”

“Or a prophecy. Depends on how generous you’re feeling.”

You laugh. “Are you always this philosophical in the library?”

He looks faintly bashful, like maybe he isn’t used to playful interrogation. “It’s, uh, kind of my default setting.”

You laugh again and glance at the book still between you. “So, are we sharing this, or arm-wrestling for it?”

“Actually,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, “I was just hoping to reread the section on disciplinary power, but it’s not urgent. I can find something else if you—”

“We could share,” you offer, surprising yourself. “There’s a reading table over there. Neutral ground.”

He looks at you for a moment, something curious in his expression. Then he nods. “Alright. Neutral ground.”

You walk side by side to a tucked-away wooden table nestled between shelves, sit down next to each other, and open the book.

The silence is companionable at first. You each pull out notebooks. You reach for your fountain pen. He’d brought a mechanical pencil — you find that endearing.

He turns the book toward you and taps a paragraph. “This part always gets overlooked.”

You read it silently. Nod. Scribble something down.

Then pass it back.

He makes a soft noise of agreement and flips a few pages, skimming with an intensity and speed that makes you wonder how many times he’d read it before and just how many words per minute he could possibly absorb.

You lean over slightly. “That part, where Foucault describes power as diffused rather than centralized. That’s where the whole thing turns, don’t you think?”

He glances at you across the book’s spine. “Yes. That’s where it stops being about prisons.”

You smile. “And starts being about everything.”

He passes the book back and nods towards your padfolio. “You take good notes.”

“Thanks,” you say, warmth blooming behind your ribs.

For the next twenty minutes, you trade the book like it’s a conversation — passing it back and forth with soft commentary and under-the-breath questions. You don’t speak constantly, but there’s no awkwardness. Just the quiet rhythm of two people paying attention to the same thing at the same time.

You aren’t sure when your knee started brushing his under the table. Or when your hands began to linger slightly too long during each pass. You tell yourself it’s incidental. The table’s small, and the book is large. But still, you notice.

When your fingers brush his again — knuckles, this time — you hear his breath catch and look up to catch his eyes.

You could look away. Instead, you opt for a conversational angle.

“So what’s your background? You don’t seem like the political theory type.”

He tilts his head. “No?”

“You read too fast. And your notes are in shorthand.” You lean in, smiling. “You’re either a court reporter, an academic, or some sort of federal agent.”

His eyes sparkle with something between amusement and alarm. “I’d argue there are more possibilities than that.”

“You’d probably argue anything,” you say, grinning. “Which is why I’m betting on academic.”

He ducks his head. “I’ve spent a lot of time in academia, but nope. I’m with the FBI.”

You struggle to hide your shock, then study him a little closer. “You? No way.”

“Dr. Spencer Reid,” he says, offering a wave instead of a handshake. “Profiler with the Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

“Wait. I’ve heard of you.”

Spencer blinks. “You have?”

You smile. “It’s hard not to, if you work anywhere near federal law enforcement. You’re the one with, like, a million PhDs and a tendency to quote Enlightenment theorists in case briefings, right?”

His ears flush pink. “My reputation precedes me, I guess. But, uh, just three PhDs. Not a million.”

You laugh softly at his awkwardness and introduce yourself in return. “I work in federal program management. Mostly DOJ-funded prison reform initiatives. Sometimes I write about the surveillance state.”

His brow lifts. “Then you probably know more about this than I do.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” you chuckle.

He ducks his head. “Well, I’ve never done it professionally. I just read a lot.”

You study him for another moment — soft-spoken, serious, a tad awkward, earnest to a fault — and feel something warm pool in your chest.

“I like your brain,” you say casually.

That makes him choke on air.

You grin. “Too forward?”

“No, I just… don’t hear that often.”

You tilt your head, feigning surprise. “That seems criminal.”

He looks at you like he’s mentally thumbing through an index card catalog for the appropriate response. When he doesn’t find one, he does what you imagine he always does: he reaches for something safer. Facts.

“Foucault argued the panopticon wasn’t just architectural,” he says suddenly, voice steadier than his posture. “It was a metaphor for disciplinary power throughout society. He thought it turned surveillance into a subtle form of control.”

You gasp. “Oh no. Now you’re flirting with post-structuralist theory?”

He flushes. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. That’s my love language.”

For a moment, the air between you shimmers — not quite silent, not quite static. You watch his fingers tap against the pages. He watches your smile soften.

You stand, closing your notebook. “I gotta head out. But would you want to do this again? Same time next week?”

His gaze lifts. “Same book?”

“Same table,” you say, shaking your head as you sling your bag over your shoulder. “Different philosopher. I want to see what you have to say about Nietzsche. I bet you have many opinions on eternal recurrence.”

Spencer huffs a quiet laugh, eyes still on you. “You have no idea.”

As you turn, notebook tucked under your arm, the air in the library seems to shift. The hush of pages and footsteps resumes around you, but it sounds different now. Warmer, maybe. Or maybe it’s just you.

At the end of the row, you glance back.

Spencer’s still watching, lopsided grin on his face. He pushes his glasses up his nose and looks away like a little kid caught peeping at his gifts on Christmas Eve.

You turn the corner smiling.

Library rules: always return what you borrow. But this time, maybe — just maybe — you’re hoping to keep what you’d found.

ᝰ.ᐟ

masterlist

PSA: likes do very little for promoting posts on tumblr! if you'd like to support a fic, please reblog!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid criminal minds #library rules #criminalminds #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal mind

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cherrymoon4 · 1 year ago

Text

Suguru hates the taste of curses. He hates the aftertaste that persists in his mouth, that doesn’t leave no matter how hard he brushes his teeth or how much sickening sweet candy Satoru gives him.

Even when hours pass, no matter how many boiling hot showers he takes, nothing takes away the disgusting feeling that swallowing down curse after curse brings.

He has tried everything, every single thing that comes to mind to not have the aftertaste of a vomit soaked rag stuck to him for hours.

But nothing works, he is sure of that, he reminds himself as he leans over the bathroom sink, trying not to throw up after another “successful” mission and another curse swallowed.

As he takes deep breaths, trying to come up with something, anything, that could help him, he hears a knock on the door, followed by your gentle voice asking if he’s okay.

He’s always seen you as one of his closest friends, the one that is there for when he feels like no one can help him; when he knows Shoko is too busy with her own shit, and Satoru could only try to come up with a joke and probably wouldn’t take him seriously, he knows that the one he can always turn to is you.

Soft, sweet little you. Too kind for your own good, with a heart too big for your petite form. So selfless, always worrying over ‘Sugu’ even when he doesn’t deserve it, even when he pushes you away, not wanting to stain your pure self.

Just like right now, as he contemplates whether to let you in or tell you to leave. He pictures your pretty face in his mind, how it probably is adorned with worry and concern, your doe eyes big and glassy.

His heart clenches at the thought of you walking away all sad after he told you to leave. He can’t bring himself to push you away.

So he tells you come in, he just wanted to reassure you after all. But when he sees you coming in and rushing to check him over for any injuries, clad in your fluffy pajamas and fuzzy socks, his mind fills with images of him doing everything but reassuring you.

And that’s how he discovers that there is, in fact, something that can help him out.

He knows that this is all he needs, your pretty cunt in his face is where he belongs.

Your plushy thighs around his head and your sweet juices smeared on his cheeks are just what he needs to forget everything about curses and the awful feeling that they leave him with.

He reprimands you for keeping your heavenly pussy from him all this time; how could you be so selfish :(

He laps at your folds like a starved man, moaning in your cunt like he’s the one getting eaten out. And he’s so messy too! After all, how could he not be when he finally found the perfect treat to solve his problem?

“Fuck sweetheart, you’re such a messy girl mh?” he grunts, like he’s not the one turning his head side to side to smear your juices all over his face.

“This pretty pussy loves me so much, doesn’t she? Gushin’ around my tongue like that, bet it wants me to fill her up too..” he says as he toys with your puffy pussy and swollen clit, looking up to see you all dumb and stupid, babbling something about how it’s “t-too much!”.

But you clearly don’t know what you need, not when your hole keeps getting wetter and wetter.

“It’s not too much, silly girl. You can take it, I know you can. You want your Sugu’ to be happy, don’t you baby? You wanna be my good girl, yeah?”

And how can you deny him? You do want to be his good girl, his best girl!

So you spread your legs wider for him and let him lap at your messy hole, and you don’t even complain when you feel his thick cock prodding at your entrance, stretching your pussy nice and full :3

hello ^^ ( thank you sososo much for the love on the other posts! send me requests if you want :P )

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freeandiwill · 12 days ago

Text

Random things I think your Yautja Mate would hate

(Filled with headcanons that may not be accurate btw but I don’t care it’s my house)

Being called “Baby”: Does not fuck with that at all. They might find 90% of your pet names endearing, except that one. Do not infantilize them, they hates to think you see them as weak and vulnerable as a baby is. Would honestly loved to be called “Elder” or “Senior Citizen” instead, at least age has some pride to it.

Beds: Yautja don’t really sleep in ‘comfortable’ conditions, their mattress are very stiff and only adorned by furs from valuable prey they’ve killed. Besides that, they often camp on in trees or on forest floors, even in the worst of weather. So squishy human mattresses and fluffy pillows are not their thing, they always feel like they’re sinking. Plus the bed frame can hardly handle their full weight. But blankets are the worst, why would you want to be constricted and tangled up like that in your sleep?? On the plus side, they’ll never hog your sheets. In fact, they may just prefer the floor.

Perfume/Cologne: Okay, so if it’s the exact same scent you had on you the day you met, they can tolerate it. But anything outside of that is a no-go. Scent is largely how they familiarize others and smelling something foreign basically always registers as a threat. If you change it regularly, you might find all your perfume bottles in the trash one day. They find your natural body odor delectable anyway, nasties. If you switch it up on them once randomly, they straight up nearly attack you until they realized what happened and then make you swear to never do it again.

Haircuts: Their dreads are full of sensitive nerves, they’re a large part of Yautja affection and cutting them is a huge, painful sacrifice. So when you have to cut yours at least a few times a year? Horror story, basically. Literally flinches every time they see the scissor snip. They know, logically, that your hair is different from theirs but they still see the equivalent of an amputation.

Shaving: On a similar note, they don’t understand why you would ever want to get ride of your natural fur. Granted, they won’t try to fight this one as hard, but they actually love your fuzzy little hairs and get rather disappointed whenever your skin is freshly smooth.

Periods (if you get them): Another one that they logically know is normal and healthy, but they cannot stand to smell blood on you for an entire week. Their instincts are screaming that their mate is injured and they need to do something to fix it, but they just can’t. You pretty much get doted on and treated like you’re dying of an exotic illness.

Processed foods: They’re diet is a solid 60% meat they killed and 40% fruits/vegetables they foraged. All raw, of course. Cooking seems like a huge waste of time to them but they understand you needing to get rid of harmful bacteria. What they don’t understand is like…Takis. Or Candy Corn. Or Dr.Pepper. Like, anything that didn’t come directly from nature disgusts them to no end, they taste only pure chemicals and they cannot fathom how you eat a whole bag of gummy bears.

Clothes: Okay it’s not that they hate clothes, they just don’t understand your hesitation with nudity. To them, being naked means you are content and relaxed, even if you happen to be surrounded by strangers. They don’t really get body shame. What do you mean you don’t want your belly showing? Why are male chests more okay than female chests? Who cares if your genitals are out? Obviously some clothes have some purpose, but do oomans seriously need special garments just to not get embarrassed while they swim? How absurd.

If anyone else has any they’d like to share, please do! I love the differences in Yautja and human culture.

#yautja #yautja headcanons #predator 1987 #predator yautja #yautja x human #yautja x reader #yautja predator #predator x reader #predator x human #yautja culture #alien culture #monster lover #alien lover #yautja boyfriend #yautja girlfriend

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inbabylontheywept · 4 months ago

Note

I went to summer camp as a kid. Six times, actually. I have many fond memories, and even more terrible ones. Here's one that's a mixture of both.

To set the stage, I had just spent the night in the infirmary due to a big fight I had with almost my entire tent. They never wanted to sleep, and were always obnoxiously loud with a lantern dubbed "the sun" that let me see movement around me with my eyes closed from the shadows passing over it. I was sleep-deprived, overstimulated, autistic-but-unaware-of-that, and twelve years old, and I already disliked these girls because they talked shit about me behind my back and took advantage of naivety. This unfortunate combination lead to a blowout meltdown in which I said some things I regret, so the counselors decided it'd be best if I spent some time away.

Now, this had the unforeseen consequence of putting me in a place with less supervision. This place also had some strange bugs. They were small, about the size of my pinky fingernail. Most of their bodies were in their tails, which curved downwards like a reverse scorpion. They were black and white, sort of striped, with six legs and no wings. Their fangs were very thin, but long, extending out from their faces like brownish parentheses. They had a propensity to bite.

Perhaps you can see where this is going.

While messing around with these bugs, I noticed that when they bit, they didn't just chomp and leave. They sunk their fangs in and they kept them there for a long time. Naturally, I decided to see what would happen if I let them, nay, encouraged them to bite me, as an experiment. When would they extricate their incisors from my flesh? Would my reaction to the bites vary depending on the amount of time each bite lasted?

I let these bugs bite me four times, once for about 13 minutes, once for about 5 minutes, once for about 1 minute, and once for 45 seconds (I didn't have a watch, so these are estimates). Then, I forged a peaceful resolution with my tentmates and we went to watch the beginning of Color War.

Except, turns out it's stupid to let unidentified insects taste your blood. The bites swelled up huge. I got chills. My stomach hurt intensely. My counselor took me back to the infirmary to get them checked out.

Needless to say, this was not easy to explain to the nurse on duty ("WHY" "For science!"). His first thought was we needed to figure out what bit me. If only it were that simple.

We combed through the databases for insects in the state. We expanded our search to arachnids, even, although it certainly wasn't one. I drew a little mock-up on a Post-It to show him. There was not a single match. To this day, I have no idea what it was that I let bite me. I was given orders to come back tomorrow to get them checked by a doctor, and also return every morning and night for a week to put warm compresses and medicinal ointments on the bites, and a strong directive to never do anything like that again, with a side of "What the hell were you thinking????"

A couple of months later, after camp, I went to my friend's bar mitzvah. The woman in the row behind me tapped my shoulder. She asked me how the bug bites were. It was the doctor from the infirmary.

-- @dr-robert-chase-apologist

That was a beautiful ending. I have a similar story, but less gruesome than letting bugs bite me. My family used to go up to trips to the Mogollon Mountains two or three times a year. The woods were where my dad always felt the most at peace.

My dad used that time to hike through the trees. And I grew into that eventually, but when I was very little, I felt a particular kinship to the small things of this world. Worms and beetles and woodlice and those peculiar Arizona grasshopers with wings the size of jellybeans and tummies the size of my thumb.

And on one trip, there was an incredible number of these beautiful, fuzzy caterpillars. Picture below.

I went a little crazy about them. They were fluffy, and they were had pretty colors, and they had the cutest, softest, stubbiest little suction cup feets that I'd ever seen. Watching them climb up stalks of grass or over fallen branches was enchanting.

So I caught, like, twenty of them, and most got put in a little terrarium where I could watch them do cute caterpillar things. Mostly eat fresh pine needles and wriggle gregariously. But some I kept out just to play with. I'd put them on my palm, and I'd watch them crawl all the way up to my neck, then I'd move them somewhere else. They tickled, and I was charmed to be their jungle gym.

But apparently, those little hairs break off like fiberglass, and they have some kind of venom on them, so I had these strange, wriggling, almost tattoo like rashes all over my arms up to my neck. Very embarrassing to explain to my parents.

There was an entomologist on the street that I grew up on named Freddie. And he wasn't just a bug expert, he was specifically a caterpillar expert. He had a garden in his backyard that was specifically tailored for butterflies, he'd always draw in clouds of Monarchs during their migration. My parents asked him about the mysterious itchy caterpillars, and he said they were lophocampa ingens, and that I was lucky that I didn't inhale those hairs. They can stick inside your throat and make it swell closed. Scary little bastards.

I'd still see them after that, but never in such numbers. And while I appreciated them, I always tried to keep a few feet of distance. Just to be safe.

(Also, just wanted to clarify that I didn't remember the name for 20 years, I googled "irticating caterpillar Mogollon", and saw the picture. It wasn't until I read the caption that I was like oh yeaaaaah, that's what he called them. But it was one of those memories I could never have pulled at will.)

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bunnis-monsters · 10 months ago

Note

I am so unwell about the idea of a bee/wasp hybrid ???? Absolutely CLINICALLY down bad.

They’d be so soft and squishy and fluffy but so angry. . . Like a poorly trained purse dog.

Trying to do literally anything but bee/wasp hybrid bf just worming his way into your arms, grumbling and buzzing in annoyance. Can’t you see your cute boyfriend wants your attention?

God you can’t bring this man out in public. To most he looks so soft and sweet, but if anyone even looks in your direction he’s threatening to skewer them. Wasps and bees are very protective, so combining them is like throwing gasoline and fire into a tornado.

He’s so clingy, you’d think he’s been surgically attached to your hip. So soft and fluffy, but handsy and a bit rough. You never know what you’re getting with him.

One second he’s snuggling into you, little purrs and buzzes as his wings twitch in pleasure, then all of a sudden he’s biting your neck to establish dominance and shoving his cock into your fat cunt, stuffing you full of his eggs.

He looks like any other bumble bee hybrid, but he’s a bit angular like a wasp if that makes sense, with a reddish tint instead of yellow. Kind of like a person with strawberry blonde hair that leans more towards ginger!

He’s got terrible separation anxiety and instead of getting nervous he gets PISSED when he can’t be with you 24/7. Will absolutely show up and start fighting anyone that tries to keep you away longer than an hour or so.

Now imagine an ENTIRE HIVE of these bee/wasp hybrids! They’re absolutely overbearing… some combine the best aspects of their differing species, while the others bring out the worst.

But god you love them, and they adore you. They’re just angry, fuzzy little things!

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priisprii · 1 month ago

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Sweetest thing - C.SC

Just seungcheol taking care of his sick girlfriend.

Word count: 757 words

Contains: fluff, reader being sick(cold, headache, runny nose), food(porridge)Cheol being the best boyfriend.

You felt like a bear hibernating in your habitat all warm under three blankets covering you. It could have been one of the most comfortable and best moments of life only if you weren't dealing with a terrible cold; eyes hurting and filled with tears, runny and blocked nose at the same time and a excruciating headache that makes you want to break the expensive vase on your head.

"get up love I bought some porridge" seungcheol said softly like he was nursing a child, his warm voice calming your brain a little bit. he took seat beside you, removing the first layer of your blanket slowly.

"no porridge — hate it no" you sniffled the bland taste already spreading in your mouth, despite having fire inside your throat you were craving spicy stuff that would be no good for you.

Seungcheol moved closer to you, running his hand over your head "I know you don't like it but please eat just a little bit I can't give you medicine on empty stomach, just few bites please"

You groaned mumbling a okay. reluctantly getting up getting up , your boyfriend being the sweetheart he has helped you even if you didn't need any but you let him anyways, your heart felt fuzzy while he held your arms and gently pushed your back to the bed to support your frame. Your messy hair was brushed backwards by him, securing them in a bun for the time being so you don't accidentally end up munching on them ( you had done it once and he still teases you for that)

Seungcheol grabbed a bunch of tissues from nightstand helding it close to your nose "here, clear your nose" seungcheol encouraged like it's not straight up gross. You tried taking the tissues from him but he didn't let you.

"give me Cheol I would do it myself" you whined.

"no, your hands would get messy and I am sure you are in no mood for being any close to water " seungcheol said sternly leaving no room for further argument he knows your tendency to turn into a cat whenever you are sick and you didn't even had any energy for that so you blew the snort on tissues, deep sense of embarrassment rushing your veins.

"no need to be embarrassed because of this baby, you always drool on my pillow when you sleep" seungcheol teased as he discarded tissues . if you were in any better condition the pillow beside you would have been crushed on his face.

"shut up, I don't drool" you huffed glaring at him while he smiled cheekily.he looked so pretty and fluffy,it was technically impossible to remain mad at him. Cute bastard.

"yeah sweetheart you don't now let's eat, shall we?" Your boyfriend chimed taking the bowl of porridge mixing it a little.

He spooned a little amount, blowing it softly before bringing it to your mouth. your nose srunched up at the smell but you forced yourself to open your mouth and swallow it.

after all seungcheol got up at 6 AM when he heard you sneezing non-stop beside him and took care of you like he genuinely wants to, he wasn't obligated but he did it anyways as he always does. Despite being a terrible cook he managed to excel in making porridge few months ago when a similar cold attacked you. You won't admit it aloud but you freaking love that porridge because you know it has Seungcheol's love poured in it.

"good girl" seungcheol complimented you after you had three spoons without arguing.

"aren't you angry or frustrated that I disturbed your sleep and you had to babysit me?" you asked swallowing the last bits of porridge.

Seungcheol scoffed by your side like your words personally offended him( they did)

"What kind of shitty boyfriend do you consider me y/n to sleep like a moron beside you while you're in so much discomfort and me being angry on for you cause' of that? Love , if you are in pain I am in pain too, to get angry on you when you are in vulnerable state would make me the biggest asshole in world "

Yeah, he was being dramatic, you had cold not a scarlet fever but seeing how much he genuinely cares made you unable to control your smile and the warm fuzzy feeling inside your heart deepening. You were so lucky to have seungcheol by your side.

"God I love you" you said getting moving closer to Seungcheol and engulfing him in tight hug, his perfume, his heartbeat, his muscular arms , right here this was your home .

"I love you more"Seungcheol murmured as he hugged you back, running soft circles on your back.

Yeah even with a runny nose and excruciating headache you considered this one of the best and comfortable moment of your life.

#seventeen #seventeen drabbles #seventeen fluff #choi seungcheol #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol fic #seungcheol drabbles #seventeen scenarios #seventeen scoups #seventeen fanfic #seungcheol x reader

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rafeys-sweetie · 1 month ago

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𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐁𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐅𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 2 ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Dumb!Ditzy!Reader x Rafe Cameron <3

(For @lolabunnyworldss - fyi when I say JJ I mean John B and Sarah named their baby after him he’s not dead in this AU!)

౨ৎ

It started again on a Thursday.

Not a special Thursday. Not a holiday or an anniversary or anything fancy like that. Just a regular, soft, sleepy kind of Thursday. The kind where she wore one of Rafe’s big sweatshirts with nothing underneath and fuzzy pink socks that slipped down her ankles when she walked across the hardwood floor.

She had curled up on the couch with Bemo, her sweet little bunny who smelled like hay and warm laundry, and was watching baby TikToks on mute while absentmindedly eating marshmallows straight from the bag. Not toasted. Not dipped in chocolate. Just the fluffy kind that stuck to her fingers and made her lips glossy.

One video played after another. Chubby-cheeked babies learning to walk. Giggly twins wearing matching overalls. A little girl with a flower crown saying “daddy” for the first time.

Her heart squeezed in her chest like someone had tied a ribbon around it.

“Bemo,” she whispered, holding him closer and pressing her cheek to his tiny head. “I want one. I want a baby so bad.”

Bemo twitched his nose and looked mildly annoyed. He had never been interested in babies, except the time JJ drooled on his ear and he refused to come out from under the couch for two hours afterward.

But she was serious. Her brain might’ve been a little scattered most days, but her heart was big and full and ready. At least that’s what she thought.

So when Rafe came home, all sweaty from the gym with his jaw tight and his t-shirt clinging to his back, she launched herself at him like she had just seen him after a month at sea.

“Rafe,” she said dramatically, clinging to his chest. “I need a baby. I actually might die if I do not get one soon. Like physically die. My body is literally craving one.”

He raised one eyebrow. “You’re back on this again?”

She nodded seriously, curling her fingers into his shirt. “Yes. Like my uterus is crying. I think I’m ovulating. Maybe. Or whatever the thing is when your eggs start screaming.”

He snorted, walked her backward until she flopped onto the bed, then hovered over her with that look he always gave her when she said things that didn’t make sense. Affectionate. Confused. Slightly worried.

“You remember what happened last time you got baby fever?”

She blinked up at him and tilted her head like a puppy.

He stared.

She blinked again.

“…No?”

He exhaled. “Bemo. I got you Bemo.”

She gasped. “Oh my gosh yeah. But that was different! That was starter baby fever. This is like… final boss level. I think I’m nesting. Do you think I’m nesting? I rearranged the snack drawer by color earlier.”

“You put all the pink Starbursts in their own Ziploc bag,” he said flatly. “And called it ‘princess energy.’ That’s not nesting.”

“It could be,” she argued, pouting. “Princesses have babies. Royal ones. I could make us royalty.”

He just looked at her.

She kicked her legs a little. “I just really want one, Rafe. A real baby. A squishy one. That cries and has those little toes that look like tiny corn kernels.”

“I’m not getting you a baby because you’re obsessed with baby toes,” he said slowly.

She rolled over dramatically and buried her face in a pillow. “Fine. You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“You think I’d be a bad mom.”

“I think you’d lose your keys in the baby’s crib.”

She gasped. “I only lost my keys three times this week and one of them wasn’t even my fault. I thought the microwave was the fridge.”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

She popped her head up. Her hair was tangled. There was a tiny smear of marshmallow on her cheek. Her eyes were wide and wet.

“Please,” she whispered. “Just give me a chance.”

Rafe sighed. A long, deep sigh that said I love you but you’re literally out of your mind.

“All right,” he said finally. “You want a baby that bad?”

She nodded, eyes hopeful and shiny.

“Then prove it. You’re on trial, baby girl.”

She sat up, brightening immediately. “Oh my god like a baby test?”

“Exactly,” he said, voice firm. “Starting tomorrow.”

She squealed. Bemo leapt off the couch in terror.

౨ৎ

Trial Day One:

There was a paper on the fridge.

It had been typed. Printed. Taped down.

She stared at it with a cup of milk in her hand and a slice of cold pizza in the other.

TRIAL RULES. FAIL = NO BABY.

By Rafe “This Is Serious” Cameron

1. Take all your meds every morning. No reminders.

2. No drinking. No smoking. No wine. Not even white.

3. Eat real meals. Breakfast is not marshmallows.

4. Bemo must be clean, fed, and not dressed like a doll.

5. Babysit JJ twice a week. No calling me unless someone’s dying.

6. No crying over nothing.

7. Act like a mom. Not like a bunny princess.

She gasped.

“I am a bunny princess though,” she mumbled, half insulted.

But she took it seriously.

She got up early the next day, set five alarms on her phone labeled “PILL TIME OR NO BABY,” and made a sticker chart shaped like a heart.

She found glittery stickers in her drawer and decorated it with little cut-out bunnies and the words Mommy Mode Activated in sparkly pink marker.

She didn’t drink wine. Even when Kiara offered her a cute fizzy one that tasted like watermelon and was in a cup with a tiny umbrella. She just held her lemonade and sipped dramatically.

“I’m in training,” she said proudly. “My womb is in boot camp.”

Rafe just sipped his beer and stared at her like she was some kind of adorable alien.

౨ৎ

Week Two:

She babysat JJ three times because Sarah was exhausted and John B had accidentally put frozen peas in the coffee maker.

The first time, she panicked a little when he pooped mid-diaper change and she screamed so loud that Bemo ran into the laundry room and hid in a basket.

But she figured it out.

She sang songs. She invented lullabies. She read JJ a picture book about frogs and added dramatic sound effects even though JJ mostly just chewed on the corner.

She wore soft sweaters and fuzzy socks and made sure to wash her hands like fifty times. She googled everything. How to burp a baby. How to tell if a baby is too hot. How to entertain a one-year-old without accidentally teaching them swear words.

Rafe came home once to see her dancing around the living room with JJ in a baby sling while holding Bemo in the other arm like a furry handbag.

“What are you doing?” he asked, blinking.

“We’re bonding,” she said seriously. “It’s called multi-momming.”

And honestly, she looked ridiculous. But also… kind of perfect.

౨ৎ

Week Three:

She didn’t miss a single pill.

She didn’t call Rafe for non-emergencies.

She stopped crying when she accidentally burned her toast.

She started eating real food like oatmeal and grilled cheese and cut-up fruit in little bear-shaped bowls.

One day, she caught herself humming while organizing the diaper bag and paused.

She looked down at herself. Hair up. Big hoodie. Baby on her hip. Sticker chart full of hearts.

She was doing it.

She was actually doing it.

౨ৎ

Final Day:

She stood in the kitchen in a soft baby-blue dress that barely brushed her thighs. She had baked muffins. Real ones. With blueberries and everything.

JJ was asleep in the playpen. Bemo was flopped on his pillow with a leaf of lettuce in his mouth. Her sticker chart was complete. Her pill bottle was empty because she had taken every single one.

She had even packed a mini emergency baby kit. Just in case.

Rafe came in, tie loose around his neck, face unreadable.

“Trial’s over,” he said.

She froze. “Did I… pass?”

He walked over to her, grabbed her hands, and looked her in the eye.

“You passed,” he said. “You proved me wrong.”

She gasped.

“You did everything right,” he continued. “You made real choices. You showed up. You didn’t whine or quit or burn down the house.”

“I only almost burned it down once,” she whispered.

“And you handled it,” he said. “You handled everything.”

“So… we can start trying?” she asked softly, hope blooming in her chest like fireworks.

Rafe smiled.

“After the wedding.”

She blinked. “What wedding?”

Then he dropped to one knee.

She squeaked. Literally squeaked.

He pulled out a tiny velvet box.

“This ring belonged to my mother,” he said, opening it to reveal a delicate gold band with a perfect oval diamond. “She told me to give it to someone strong. Someone who’d raise a strong child. Someone who’d never stop loving.”

Her eyes flooded with tears.

“I didn’t think that would be you,” he admitted. “But you proved me wrong.”

She dropped to the floor, mascara running, and wrapped her arms around him so tightly the ring nearly flew out of his hand.

“Yes,” she sobbed. “Yes yes yes yes yes!”

Bemo thumped approvingly.

JJ yawned in his sleep.

౨ৎ

Twelve Months Later

She was lying on her side in bed, cradling her enormous belly, one hand rubbing slow circles over the bump while the other held a half-eaten cupcake.

Rafe walked in, eyes soft, holding a tiny pink onesie that said Daddy’s Little Chaos in sparkly cursive. “She kicked again,” she said sleepily. “I think she likes cupcakes.” “She gets that from you,” he said, smiling.

They curled up together, her head on his chest, his hand on her belly. And just before she fell asleep, she whispered, “I still wanna name her Marshmallow.”

Rafe groaned. But he would say yes. Because she had earned everything. And he would give her the whole world.

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