#Drabble?

[puptrefied]

abby's the type of girl to give you a kiss, especially for greetings and farewells, and make a quick mwah sound because otherwise did the kiss really count ? :/ she could be rushing late to wherever but she is not leaving the house until she gets that kiss, and you better make the sound too or she'll pout like you kicked a puppy in front of her. which, you kinda did—expect the puppy you kicked is actually her heart. so dramatic.

[alluringlight]

Sunday x Reader (Drabble?)

Sunday’s only regret was you. 

He’d tried his best to suppress any feelings he had for you, smothering them within him, keeping them tucked secretly away behind his breast pocket, in the innermost reaches of his heart. 

Of course, he would not spare you from the sweet dream. Only he needed to suffer, for everyone else to partake in the sweetest of dreams, cocooned and safe from the harsh realities of the monotonous drudgery of life. He’d alone remain strong, so all the weak could indulge and live life as they wished. 

He presided over these dreams, but he did not know the ins and outs of them all, did not know what each individual person wished for, nor what they lived out in the comfort of safety. 

And he couldn’t stop his curiosity, you, his sweet little secret respite; what life did you truly wish for above all else? 

With the promise he’d never invade the sanctity of your dream again, he peered down, seeking you out amongst a sea of others. 

Only to be met with his own visage. 

In your dream, you were with him. Laughter and sweet nothings spilled between you, love curled into your forms as if you’d always been together, as if you’d always loved him. As if you needed no other. 

With a heavy heart, what if’s and what could have been on the tip of his tongue, he pulled away from the comfort of your dream, bitter on his palate like medicine. 

He returned to his gilded cage, hoping for you to remain peacefully asleep in the safety of your dreams.

[jesuistrestriste]

*NSFW*

oooh i can’t stop thinking about forcing sub!art donaldson to ride ur thigh while he just squirms and looks down at you with a pout and watery blue eyes muahahaaaa

“can i come yet?”

“did you win your match today?”

“.. no..”

“then there’s your answer. don’t stop moving those pretty hips until i say you can..”

“yes, ma’am..”

and he just hangs on to every single syllable that comes out of your mouth as he staves off his orgasm because,, he wants to be a good boy and follow orders but he’s just so desperate for your permission. he won’t let himself come until you say he can, even if he’s so fucking close. and then when you finally say the words “you can come, art”, his hips stutter over the limb that’s slotted between his legs and he’s instantly spilling into his boxers..

[clairewritesandrambles]

Scott needily grabbing your ass when he’s cums when you’re on top… 🫢 those hands 😩

Anon. ANON. Please, I am not strong enough for this today.

He doesn't let you get on top often. He prefers seeing you underneath him, either fucking you into the mattress from behind or watching your cock drunk face while you're a mess for him. So when he does? Oh, it's even hotter to him than usual.

Note: I wrote this with a plus-sized reader in mind, because my body is the exact reason why I actually hate being on top in my own sex-capades.

This spiraled. I started thinking this would be like 100-200 words. It's almost 1300. I hope it's good.

CW: Spanking (once), breeding, talking of body insecurity, Scott being sweet for once?, Claire talks too much

"That's it, baby. Nice and slow. I want to see you shaking from how bad you want my cock." Scott was reclined against his stack of pillows, one arm obnoxiously tucked behind his head while the other hand rubbed soft circles into your thigh.

"Scott... Please just fuck me." Your voice was soft, unable to hold his hungry gaze as he took in your form straddling his thick thighs. You felt too exposed, even with your hands resting on his chest allowing you to obscure some of his view of your body.

Shaking his head, he took the hand under his head and used it to caress your hip. "You're not getting out of this that easily. I wanna see you fall apart on my cock before I even think about having you under me." Seeing the uncertain look in your eyes, he threaded his fingers through yours as a soft, reassuring smile touched his lips. "You can do it, beautiful."

"Scott," you whined, "please." You shifted uncomfortably on him, thoughts running through your head a thousand miles a minute. Thoughts of your face from his point of view, the look of your body, and the feel of your weight on his hips and chest. Would he be turned off by it? Would it feel good for him? Not for the first time, you worried about Scott seeing the flaws you saw in yourself and realizing what he has gotten himself into.

You're jostled from your thoughts by Scott readjusting himself to sit up to your level, the concern on his face indicating he'd recognized the look of overthinking on your face. He always teased that he knew you better than you knew yourself and in moments like these you believed him.

"Talk to me. What's wrong?" He bumped his forehead against yours, giving you no option but to look into his eyes while his strong arms held you close.

"I just..." You trailed off, considering playing it cool before you saw him raise an unimpressed eyebrow, already a step ahead of you. "It feels good, right? I'm not too heavy or anything?"

A large hand snakes its way to cup your jaw, making you instinctively lean into his warmth. You always loved it when he used his hands on you, seeing them flex as he held and touched you, and the warmth they provided.

"You always feel amazing, baby. I could spend the rest of my life with you on top of me, letting me see that beautiful body of yours, and I'd feel completely at peace." He whispered these words like a sacred promise, his thumb dragging on your bottom lip as he softly angled his head even closer to yours. "I am so fucking in love with all of you."

Your entire body heated at his words, your hands grabbing at his face to join his mouth with yours. His tongue licked into your mouth, stealing your sighs as one hand slipped around your back while the other trailed down your jaw to land at your throat.

"Now," he said, breaking the kiss, "ride my cock like a good girl." He leaned back as his hands encircled your hips, his hair falling into his lust-filled eyes.

"Yes, sir," you mocked, leaning forward to brush his hair back into place as you pressed one last kiss to his lips. Your hips lifted on his cock before you sat back, drawing a heavenly moan from his lips, the sound mixing with his words and touch to spur confidence into you.

His grip was bruising as you rode him, profanities mixing with praises as you bounced on his cock. You knew you'd wake up with marks tomorrow, Scott's fingers brushing over them with a satisfied sigh as you two dressed for the day. 

"You feel so fucking good, baby." He breathed, thumb brushing over your clit. Your pussy clenched in response, a strangled sound escaping Scott's mouth as he threw his head back in pleasure. "Come on, beautiful. Come for me, I wanna feel you fucking leaking down my cock, you can do it."

You didn't even have time to react before your orgasm washed over you, making you cry out his name and clench around him. He shot up to a half-sitting position, catching you as you collapsed on his shoulder. "Fuck, good girl. You're so fucking good for me."

With his hand behind him providing more leverage, Scott started thrusting into you, fucking himself even deeper into you than he already was. All pretenses were dropped as he desperately chased after his orgasm, his other hand gripping your ass as he pulled you down to keep as much of him inside of you as he could.

"Jesus fucking Christ, you feel so fucking good. So fucking tight, I can't wait to fill you." He mouthed at your neck, your fingers grabbing onto the hairs at the base of his neck as he sucked a mark onto a sweet spot. Praises fell freely from his mouth now, his grip on your ass tightening before crescendoing into a firm smack. "Gonna fill you and get you fucking pregnant."

His words drew out a sound that didn't even sound human, making you clench around him once again as a second orgasm rocketed up to settle as a tight ball in your stomach. You could hear his smirk as he continued: "You want that? Want me to pump you full of cum until you can't take anymore? You'd take more though, if I told you because you're so fucking good for me." You weren't even in control of your own body at this point, hips desperately meeting his thrusts. "God, I'd fucking love to see your body while you're pregnant. Nice and full of me, wearing little loose dresses around the house so I can fill you over and over again. Fuck I'll keep you nice and bred every day."

His words rip a second orgasm from  you, your body spasming as you kiss him again, all teeth and tongue through the rush of passion. More filthy words continued to escape against your lips, Scott losing coherency in the throes of his building orgasm. He fully straightens up, both hands grasping your hips to push you down onto him as his cock twitched and filled you. Deep grunts filled the air as he continued minuscule thrusts, the aftershocks of his orgasms continuing to go through him. As he came down, he mouthed at your jaw, dropping down your neck and chest before finalizing with a soft kiss in the valley of your breasts.

Satisfied, he leaned back against the pillows, more strewed on the bed than before. You moved to lay beside him, causing a discontent sound to come from his throat as he pulled you back down onto his slowly softening cock. "It's not going to stick if you get up right away. Gotta make sure it works." He spoke like he couldn't believe you'd think of getting off.

"How stupid of me." You rolled your eyes, taking in how good he looked with a sheen of sweat glistening off his skin and curling his hair.

He smirked knowingly at you, seeing you take in his appearance. But his words didn’t match the arrogant expression, instead reflecting only the soft look in his eyes. "I love you."

"I love you, too. You're going soft, Miller." You taunted, reaching out once again to brush a hair off his face when he caught your wrist.

"Only for you," he conceded, pressing a soft kiss to your pulse point and pulling you to lay on his chest, wrapping his arms around you.

[moviememokeeper]

Taking a walk with Reca at night.

It's cold outside, it had been snowing earlier. I've always liked the sound snow makes when you step on it.

Everywhere had been decorated to fit the season. The lights in particular were beautiful.

You both had gotten a coffee - or whatever hot drink you like - and were talking about some new movie that was coming up, or rather, Reca had been yapping about his part in creating it and you listened, making a few comments here and there.

You didn't mind, you liked listening to him.

A sudden gust of wind messed up your hair, and almost stole your scarf, Reca couldn't stop laughing.

The snow started slowly falling again.

He put his coat over your shoulders as you both walked home

[madzzz0797]

Just thinking about Daryl pining after reader.

CW: mild cursing, cigarettes, alcohol, implied death of an animal(non specific), implied smut(non descriptive) Daryl is kind of ruining her purity.

!!!MDNI ON THIS POST!!! Also if any of this bothers you please just scroll, your mental health is important to me. 

He is so in love with her it’s crazy. The only problem is she was raised religious and was very sheltered her entire life. Even now in her mid twenties she still is just a pure and kind as ever.

Daryl would be scared at first of breaking her out of her shell. But after he does he shows her all kinds of things. How to hunt and track animals. He took her with him to check some traps he set the previous day. She feels bad and of course she cries a little. “Dammit, I’m sorry darling I never shoulda brought ya with me.” Daryl felt bad so he just hugged he in the middle of the woods. Cradling her to his chest while she sniffed.

He gives her the first cigarette she’s ever had. Daryl was scared that she may choke based on how hard she coughed. He took it away from her. “Pretty women like ya don’t smoke noways.”

After she begged him for days he finally caved and took her for a ride on his motorcycle. He went slower than he normally would but she didn’t need to know that. “You better hold on tight, ya hear?”

She stumbled upon him drinking one night and asked if she could have some. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea doll.” But he knew he could never resist the curiosity in her eyes. And of course Daryl could never say no to his sweet girl. He hesitantly gives her a beer. She gets super happy drunk and Daryl just finds it so adorable.

Her fighting was awful. Poor girl was so afraid of hurting someone she forgot that she also has to protect herself. Daryl eventually convinced her to at least learn how to punch someone. He knew it wasn’t in her character but, “this is the end of the world sweetheart.” After she punched him in the arm like he asked her too he instantly knew they had a long way to go.

He thought her how to ask for what she wants. “Daryl please,” she whined under him. Her breath was ragged and her eyes glossed with tears of pleasure. He looked down at her and smirked.

“Please what? What ya want girl?” He knew exactly what she wanted. But she needs to understand that she has to be able to speak for herself also.

“Please just fuck me Daryl.” As soon as his name left her lips he’s giving her exactly what she was asking for.

As always, feel free to like 💜, comment 💬, and reblog ♻️. It means so much to me every time someone interacts with my posts. Also please send in a request if there is something you want to see me try my hand at writing.

[mayoonn]

A little snippet of my work, I hope you are enjoying it my dear. Don't be afraid to request, I'm into a lot of freaky stuff, well depends but I'm sure there's nothing you should hide from me ;)

This was self insert, bottom trans male reader, no description for the bottom genitalia, Implied no top-surgery and chest was described as small, implied non-con? But not descriptive, creepy man and are called as pigs

You were working late, again. It was just another boring day, your boss had requested to stay as usual and there wasn't any difference about it. Of course, you were carried away with work that you didn't check the time. By now, it should be midnight as you finished cleaning your desk. You already felt uneasy, knowing there'll be creeps and weirdos out there. You know how wild it is once at midnight struck, you usually take a train on the way to go home.

You were exhausted, not only from work but also life. Why can't you have a normal life? The same thought that plaque in your mind for years. People would discriminate and humiliate you just because you're a trans man, especially when you haven't got enough money for the surgery. At first you didn't mind, sure a little dysphoria here and there but still you're no different than a man plus your chest is as small as it can be. You're always scared of surgery sometimes, the risk and the disadvantages. It's 50/50 chance, isn't it?

The train came by and you walked inside once the doors were opened. The night was so silent that it sometimes comforts you, you sit near the pole and close your eyes for a moment. You just wanted a little rest from the stress, you didn't notice someone was sitting next to you. You finally noticed when his thigh literally rubs into your thighs. You tried not to think about it, the man is literally manspreading. Out of all the seats and he chose next to you? Pigs are what you thought at first, you assumed he's a perverted man who just likes to see other people uncomfortable.

Your brows furrowed in annoyance as you just mind your own business, I was sure the man wanted to get my reaction when he rubbed my thighs. You looked at the man with disgust as you tried to pull away from his hand but his grip was like a steel. He put his finger up to his mouth with his free hand and started to lean closer to your neck. You thrashed around his body and pushed him but he didn't budge, his deep voice chuckled and kissed your neck. He gripped your hip while the other hand slowly caressed from your stomach to your chest and fondled it..

You didn't think this would've happened to you as you slowly bounced on his cock. Tears swelling in your eyes, begging him to stop but the man only rubbed your hips and coo for your comfort. His grip on you was rough and painful yet his kisses and words was so gentle. You quietly moaned, hoping there was no one else in the section, you couldn't handle the humiliation.

[kainekillinggod]

Dís and Thorin actually should look really similar and so when Dís comes to Erebor, Bilbo sees her in the halls and says "hello darling🥰" bc he doesn't realize at first glance that it's her ☠️☠️☠️

And she's super fucking confused but just assumes it's a hobbit thing, and then like. 5 minutes later when Bilbo is doing whtvr he's doing, he just. Thinks. And then. Realizes.

And freaks the fuck out and tries to find her cuz "oh my god yeah, Thorin said his sister was coming soon how could I be so stupid oh my god I must look insane I hope I didn't offend her-"

And Dís and Thorin are just talking and catching up and Bilbo walks in super embarrassed and Dís greets him with a "Hello darling🥰" bc she assumes it's hobbit customs to say that.

Now Thorin is confused and Bilbo freaking tf out bc he thinks he's being made fun of and Dís is just sorta. Chilling and having a great time

[spiritofboredom]

Just a small little thing inspired by me drawing a bunch of Bills in my sketchbook. (A small interaction which I thought would become a full fic but I just couldn't think of anything else)

It was muscle memory the way your pencil scratched across the paper. You were hardly paying attention as you finished drawing Bill's bowtie for like the 10th time in the past minute. "Enough already! Sheesh!" Speak of the devil. The triangle blinked into existence behind you, snapping you out of your self-induced trance. "Look, I love blind adoration as much as the next guy." Bill hovered in front of you, poking your forehead. "But it's getting old, seeing your long face popping up when I'm trying to spy on people." Oh, right. "I forgot you could do that," was your defense. Bill rolled his eye, "Yeah. So quit it!" "Sorry, it just... helps? It's better than just staring at a blank paper for hours on end," you explained with a shrug.

[bitemevanitas]

𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐔𝐑

𝖢𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌: Vanitas being soft, Reader struggling with something (?), Roland and Olivier briefly mentioned, established relatiobship, possibly ooc as always <3

𝖳𝖶: 𝗇𝗈𝗇𝖾

𝖯𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝖵𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗌 𝗑 𝖥𝖾𝗆!𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝖶𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍: 0.9K

Vanitas had learned how to open your window without making a sound.

It had taken him weeks of trial and error—nearly dislocating his shoulder once and almost falling to his death twice—but by now, he had mastered the delicate art of breaking and entering with finesse.

Tonight, however, something was off.

Yes, the curtains were drawn.

That was strange. Usually, you left them slightly open, whether out of habit or carelessness, allowing him to make out whether you were asleep or still awake. But now, they were completely shut, thick fabric shielding the interior from prying eyes.

His lips pressed into a thin line. Had something happened?

Vanitas reached for the lock. It clicked softly under his touch, and he pushed the window open, slipping inside with the practiced ease of a man who had done this far too many times.

The air was thick—stale, unmoved for hours—and the chamber was dim, barely illuminated by the weak glow of a single candle.

Before he could call out for you, the sound of rustling sheets snapped his attention toward the bed.

All but a blur shot toward him.

Vanitas barely had time to react before you crashed into him—full force, arms around his neck, legs locking around his hips. The sheer impact nearly knocked him off balance, sending him staggering back a step, but he caught himself at the last second.

“Hey—?!” His voice came out sharper than intended, equal parts startled and confused. He instinctively grabbed hold of you, his hands slipping beneath the undersides of your thighs to keep you from slipping.

For a second, he didn’t know what to do.

You were holding onto him too tightly, as if afraid he’d vanish if you let go. Your breath was uneven against his neck, your frame trembling slightly. What the hell.

His hesitation melted into a sort of understanding.

“..Did something happen?” he murmured, unsure if he was allowed to touch you beyond what was necessary to hold you up.

You shook your head. Your grip around his shoulders remained firm, but you kept your face turned away. “I just missed you.”

Your voice was oddly croaky, soft around the edges.

Vanitas frowned slightly. He wasn’t blind. You had been crying earlier.

It wasn’t just your voice—it was in the redness of your face, the slight puffiness around your eyes, the way your body still held the remnants of whatever storm had passed through you.

You had been waiting for him?

Something in his chest twisted.

For once, he didn’t argue or tease. He simply adjusted his grip, clasping his hands together beneath your thighs, securing you more comfortably against him. He wouldn’t be able to hold you up for long before his arms started aching, but—just this time—he could bear it.

He let out a slow breath. “You must’ve been real bored without me.”

You huffed against his shoulder. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“It's too late for that.”

A small silence stretched between the two of you. Vanitas, unwilling to let it settle into something heavy, shifted his weight slightly, searching for a distraction.

“You missed quite the spectacle tonight,” he started. “Roland decided it was his life’s mission to interrogate me about you.”

You stirred slightly, but didn’t lift your head. “What did you tell him?”

“Oh, nothing too incriminating,” Vanitas said airily. “Just that you’re madly in love with me, of course.”

Your fingers twitched against the back of his coat. “I hate you.”

“Sure, sure.”

He continued talking—rambling, really—stringing together idle stories about the tavern, about Noé passing out at the table, about some poor lad getting chewed out for dropping an insanely expensive bottle of wine by Olivier, and so on.

You said nothing at first, only listening, fingers tightening and loosening against his collar.

Then, softly—

“You’re warm.”

Vanitas stilled.

“I like that.”

For a moment, he didn’t know why that made his chest feel so stupidly tight.

Then, without thinking, he leaned his head against yours, exhaling slowly.

You really had missed him tonight.

Despite having seen him every evening for the past two weeks. But tonight—tonight, you had missed him so terribly.

His voice.

His warmth.

His embrace.

Vanitas swallowed, closing his eyes for half a second before he adjusted his hold again, this time more carefully.

“..Oui,” he murmured. “I guess I am.”

A/N: yes, i am very aware, that many of my writings revolve around the same or similar concept.

i just wanted to let anyone who reads this know, that this is me projecting my real life problems onto my silly little scenarios ☺︎︎

also, i am a sucker for writing this manz being soft okay, and idgaf how ooc it may come off as, because i love hurt/comfort (or reverse hurt/comfort) ahahahaha

ANYWAY 🩵

don't mind that this oneshot has neither backstory, nor conclusion, nor whatever the fuck i might be missing..

.

.

.

[eyelambspider]

S/O: Honey, I'm going outside

Monster!König: One moment!

He smacks his face tentacles right across their face, and keeps them there for a few moments

He starts to peel it off and there's that popping sound, as if you're pulling suction cups off of a window

Their face is marked with a dozen circles

Monster!König: Okay you can go now

S/O: ... right. Thank you dear

My anon's get me. LIKE the moment you just have to stand there and not pout as he holds you close. Sucking hickies into your skin with his mouth while his tentacles wrap around your collarbones roughly. Sure, he'd hide the 'monster-like' love bites where you could cover them, BUT no way in hell are you leaving without a reminder of how much he loves you on your neck.

Love him-

[grim333z]

Tied-back~

Carl x gn!reader

Tw:NONE

Flufflfufflfjffjflfjf (maybe a wee bit of angst, but it's like mentions of past stuff)

You'd spotted Carl trying to keep his hair out of his eye for about ten minutes ago. He'd been cleaning his gun, hunched over on the top step of the porch. Scoffing and trying to blow the stray strands out of his face, however, his method left much to be desired.

Cutting it was out of the picture. He wouldn't. Even if you offered to do it yourself, he wouldn't let anyone else cut it. Before, he'd only ever let Lori cut it, and since then, he'd vowed never to cut it. Surprisingly, he'd kept up with his vow. Most people kept it short, harder for undead hands to grab, even Daryl, who liked it long kept it relatively short, trimming it every couple weeks or so to keep it shoulder length, which happened to be just short enough to remain out of reach from any less than friendly encounters.

No matter how much bargaining you, Rick, or Michonne could offer, could change his mind.

Part of keeping it long is to let it drape over the deep rippled valley where his right eye once sat. He'd learnt to live with the scar as long as he kept it hidden, typically under a small square of gauze and a bandage tied around it, his hair then draped over that.

"Carl." You hum, watching from the doorway, garnering a grunt in response, his hair hindering his work clearly playing with his nerves.

A faint smile tinges at your lips, slightly amused by Carl just...putting up with an easily fixable problem.

"Stupid hair." He utters under his breath, the metal in his hands clunking as he cleans each individual part. Letting his well-worn hands carefully glide over the matt black metal.

You huff a quiet laugh before stumbling up behind him.

"What are you up to?" He questions, ocean blue eye gazing up at you from where he's seated, his hands pausing to take on whatever you're about to ask.

"Face back that way," you coo, receiving a questioning quirk of his eyebrow before his face turns back to the way it had been.

Your fingers gently brush his hair back off his forehead, the gold in his hair illuminated by the warm, gentle spring sun looming over the two of you. Pulling the gentle brown waves sat on the top half of his head into a flimsy ponytail. He hums absentmindedly in response, taking in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

You tie the ponytail off with the stray hairband you found comforting to have on your wrist. Letting your fingers brush through his hair, taking a moment to appreciate how well taken care of it is.

"Better?" You question, settling on the step beside him, your gaze landing on his hands as he works with the deconstructed weapon.

His face turns to meet yours, his pale pink lips twisted up into a small smile, a few stray ignorable strands falling from the ponytail, framing his face in the most perfect way.

"Thanks..."

"No biggie,"

[concernedbrownbread]

Katara traveled the world because she was the last Southern waterbender. She's the one who fought Pakku and stole the waterbending scroll. She brought the Southern Water Tribe back into the world.

Sokka's the one who learned how the North made its buildings and how hot air balloons worked. He brought the world back to the Southern Water Tribe.

That is to say, I'm a Chief Katara truther.

[vesko-does-things]

Sonic the Hedgehog is absolutely mobius’ most wanted bachelor.

The press is on him every week like flies trying to get a glimpse into his personal life. Any partners, dates, even possible dates—but they can’t ever find anything.

They resort to extreme exaggeration to make any interaction he has look like a potential romance because those Sonic fan reads are just too profitable to give up.

But that gets stale after a while. And they have to look for something other than him visiting Knuckles on angel island or having lunch with Amy every week.

So they start covering possible love affairs with his enemies! Oh how scandalous! Blue Blur caught in a passionate battle for his rivals heart!

One particularly determined journalist stumbles upon something very interesting one day though. And under the guise of looking for chemistry, the pieces fit together a little too well.

They find countless pictures and videos of Sonic and Metal Sonic that the public had not been previously aware to. And oh boy are they juicy.

Pictures upon pictures of the two of them together. NOT fighting. In fact they look quite fond of each other. (Too fond for this to be an enemies thing.)

There’s pictures of them together in cafes and bookstores. In the forest and just outside of Eggman base. All talking and smiling and touching.

The journalist publishes an extensive article about theses little pictures and the public goes wild for it. It’s the most convincing one yet because everyone knows Sonic hangs out with his friends, but Metal?? Outrageous! No chance they aren’t a thing.

The article makes its way to Sonic eventually and he panics. Because he’d been so used to the press on him for things he didn’t do, he has no idea how to handle things he did do.

The press was right for once: he was in a relationship with Metal. And now the cat was leaping out of the bag and clawing him in the face.

[cryptidfucke]

🔞

I'd like to think of Neuvillette being so infatuated with Zhongli's body — not in just a sort of "you're the most physically appealing being I've ever set eyes on" kind of way — that nearly everytime they get close to mating, Neuvillette is always the one who leaves them paused because he's taken to playing with Zhongli's chest. Squeezing, biting, sucking on his nipples.

Or perhaps he's taken to his neck where he's been rubbing his cheek against to coat the soft and slightly tanned flesh there in his own scent of calm ponds lined by newly bloomed marcottes. A human nose makes it more difficult to detect, yet in this matter, he refuses to allow that to deter him from marking his almost mate.

Zhongli's thighs are sensitive, as in, Neuvillette is not allowed to linger there for longer than necessary. He is content to spend his alloted time sucking and nipping bruises into them, he is gentle with them once he's nudged away.

Neuvillette does not have a favored area of Zhongli's body. Every inch of it brings him the utmost pleasure, and he most certainly does not fail to return that pleasure to his companion when given the chance.