I’m so weak for feral kitsune jeongin. The desperation of him presenting and unsure of how to help himself and being so sensitive to the reader was so good.
I am terrible with coming up with scenarios, but I’d love to see more of him in a subby, inexperienced, desperate way, needing help with release.
Please, thank you, and so many congrats!
2k Followers Event | can't stop
pairing: jeongin x reader
synopsis: jeongin just can't seem to get a handle on his heats...
The first time it happened, you thought an animal had gotten lost in the Sanctuary. The second time, you opened it to find a shaking, red-furred fox curled in your laundry basket, whining softly and smelling faintly of plum blossoms and panic.
But now you know. Now you recognize the signs, the restless scratching, the scent, the trail of illusion smoke left in his wake.
You open the door, and there he is again. On his knees. Human. Barefoot. Wearing one of your old shirts, your favorite shirt, oversized and off one shoulder on him, the hem brushing the tops of his trembling thighs.
His face is flushed red, lips bitten, and his hands are curled into fists in his lap.
“Jeongin,” you murmur gently, crouching. “Are you okay?”
“No,” he whispers, tears already in his eyes. “I-I don’t know? It's happening again. My skin’s wrong, and I keep-” A shaky breath, and he rubs his thighs together, shame overtaking his features. “It won’t go away, and even when I touch, it doesn’t stop-”
You catch his wrist before he claws at himself again, and his whole body jolts like he’s been shocked. He pants, cheeks burning.
“Can you help me?” he pleads. “Please? You said. You said I can come here. You said-” He clings to you like he’s drowning.
You sit on the floor of your bedroom with your back against the wall, Jeongin straddling your lap, forehead pressed to your shoulder as he grinds against your thigh in slow, aching motions. Your hand cradles his neck, the other beneath his shirt, rubbing soft, slow circles into his lower back.
He’s soaked through. His cock’s barely even out, just the tip peeking from the waistband of his boxers, leaking against your skin every time his hips roll forward.
He whimpers, face hidden, ears low. “I keep getting… hard, and then I get scared, and I turn into a fox, and it doesn’t stop.”
“That’s stupid,” he cries, rubbing harder against you now, almost angry with himself. “It hurts, and I don’t know how to fix it-”
You kiss his ear. “That’s what I’m here for.”
He chokes on a moan when your hand moves lower.
“Can I help you? Can I touch you properly?” you whisper.
He nods, biting his fist.
“Words, sweetheart.”
“Yes,” he breathes, voice breaking. “Yes, please. Please touch me.”
You slip your hand into his underwear and wrap your fingers around his flushed, leaking cock. His whole body arches, a sob caught in his throat as he grabs your shoulders and shakes.
“Oh. Oh. Ohh, gods,”
His hips jerk wildly. He’s already close. Your thumb brushes under the tip and he wails, clenching around you like your body is the only solid thing in his storm.
You kiss his cheek, his jaw, his temple, whispering praise against his skin.
“You’re doing so well,” you murmur. “So sensitive, baby. You’ve been holding this in, haven’t you?”
He nods rapidly, grinding into your fist now with helpless, needy cries.
“Am I the only one to touch you?” you ask gently, and he lets out a broken whine.
“Y-yes,” he hiccups, clutching your shirt, crying now. “Only- Only myself sometimes, but it doesn’t feel like… this, it’s not this good, I want- I want.”
“Let go,” you coax, stroking him just a little faster. “Come for me, Jeongin.”
His body locks up. He cries out against your neck, trembling and gasping as his release spills hot and messy into your palm. You keep stroking him through it, gentle and firm, kissing away his tears, letting him cling as tightly as he needs.
And when he whines again, already twitching, still hard despite the high, you stroke him slower and say, “It’s okay, baby. You can come. I’ll help you.”
He whimpers, nodding, and lets you take him apart. He collapses in your arms, dazed and sniffling. His illusion falters, fox ears flickering in and out, his nine tails appearing one by one in a shimmering swirl of gold. You run your fingers through them, slow and soothing.
AN: hon youre chill, no one could force me to do something i dont want, im miss stubborn thru and thru
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The bite isn’t deep. You’ve handled worse. But it is bleeding, and it is stinging, and you’re trying to keep your face neutral as you back away from the startled wyvern, murmuring reassurance even as your hand starts to shake.
Minho sees it before you can even bandage it, let alone hide it.
You hear the low hiss before you see him, him, all coiled menace and sinuous movement, slipping down from one of the upper beams of the sanctuary like he’s been waiting for this. He doesn’t ask questions. He never does, not when his instincts flare like this.
“Who touched you.”
It’s not phrased like a question.
You glance at your arm, at the small crescent of red already drying at the edges. “It was my fault,” you say quietly, “I startled him. I moved too fast.”
Minho’s eyes slit thinner. You can feel the tension rising off his scales, hot like the sunlamps he curls beneath. “You smell like fear,” he says, nearly a growl. “You’re hurt.”
You lift your hand like that might calm him. “Barely. I’ve had paper cuts worse-”
He’s there, winding, curling, circling, the brush of his long tail across your calves making you stumble backward a step, only for more of him to rise behind you, walling you in.
“You weren’t afraid of him,” he says lowly, voice near your jaw now, “but you’re afraid now. Because I’m angry.”
You freeze.
He notices. “Don’t be.” A whisper this time. “Don’t you dare be afraid of me.”
He touches your wrist, delicate, clawed fingers curling gently around where the blood has started to dry. His thumb brushes beneath the wound like he’s trying to pull the pain from it, like if he just touches you carefully enough, it’ll vanish.
“I hate it,” he says, voice nearly trembling. “When you get hurt and I wasn’t there.”
Your chest tightens. “Minho,”
“You patch us up,” he cuts in. “All of us. Even when we snap at you. Even when we’re monsters. You keep coming back.”
He leans in close. His breath is warm against your throat. “But if anything ever truly hurts you, I’ll kill it.”
It should be terrifying, the way he says it, calm, certain, like the end of a prophecy. But you know him now. The sharp tongue, the cold watchfulness. The layers of warning signs he uses like armor. Beneath it, the tremble in his hold. The way he lowers his head to yours, resting his forehead lightly against your temple.
You shift your weight slightly, and his tail instinctively wraps around your ankle, anchoring you. You let it.
“I know,” you whisper. “I’ve never been afraid of you.”
He exhales, slow and shaking. “…Good. Then stay still.”
And you do, as he wraps himself tighter around you, careful but sure, cradling your wounded arm against his chest like it’s made of glass. His scales are warm from the sun. His heartbeat is steady beneath the muscle. He doesn’t move for a long time.
You realize, this isn’t about the wound. Not really. It’s about you being breakable. You, the only human in a sanctuary full of creatures who’ve lost too much already. So you rest your cheek against him and let him hold you like that, wrapped tight and protected, until his trembling stops.
Hi!! Congrats on 2k followers! 🤩 I feel like I just followed you and you were just celebrating 1k. (Or maybe I just found that stuff first and followed then 😂)
Can I request a drabble or a one-shot of Changbin x f!reader? He starts feeling attracted to her but is so worried he may hurt her because of his strength, that he makes sure to never mention it. And maybe it gets so bad that he leaves the room/area if she is also there and just he can't ignore the urges, maybe even starts to actively avoid her. Until she corners him and (gently) demands why, thinking she accidentally did something to offend him and wants to fix whatever went wrong. And when she finally figures it out, she still offers to help relieve some of that tension 😏 you know, since she's there to help take care of them and all...
And maybe one of the others almost catches them just because Changbin is just so dang loud 😅
Thank you hon! And congratulations again!!
-⚡️anon (hopefully no one else has taken that emoji yet)
2k Followers Event | too much, too big?
pairing: changbin x fem!reader
synopsis: big, strong oni scared of hurting his princess with his affections
warnings: oni!changbin, soft smut, hurt/comfort, size kink, little voyeur (hyunjin)
event masterlist: #2kShootingStars
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AN: that emoji works heheh
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Changbin has stopped sitting beside you. You notice it slowly, like the ache after a bruise blooms. A shift in shadows. A lack of warmth at your shoulder when the nights grow cold.
He still laughs too loudly in the communal space. Still chops wood like it insulted him. Still gets sulky when Jeongin hides his favorite mug. But if you enter a den, he leaves it. If you ask him a question, he answers without looking up. If you catch his gaze, it drops to the floor. His hand never brushes yours anymore. His voice never dips into that private tone it used to save just for you.
At first you thought you’d imagined it. Now you think you made a mistake. Somehow.
He used to carve you little charms, clumsy and sweet, tucked under your tea cup or pillow, left by the door when you had hard days. You haven’t found one in weeks. It hurts more than it should. And it’s worse today.
You’re elbow-deep in the herb shed, re-shelving dried roots, when Changbin walks in with a crackle of heat and tension, and instantly goes still. You watch him. He watches the floor. And then, without a word, he turns and walks back out.
That’s it. You wipe your hands on your apron, march out after him, and catch him before he can vanish into the trees.
“Changbin.”
He stops. His shoulders rise with the breath he drags in, heavy and reluctant.
You catch up and step in front of him, planting yourself between him and his favorite escape path.
“What is going on?” you demand, more gentle than angry, but still firm. “Did I do something? Say something wrong? Did I cross a line I didn’t see?”
His eyes finally meet yours. They’re burning. Not angry but wild, like fire that’s fought too long against damp wood.
“No,” he says, too quickly. “No. You didn’t. You’re fine.”
“You’re avoiding me.”
He doesn’t argue. That almost hurts more.
“I miss you, Binnie,” you whisper.
He winces. Actually winces.
“I’m too much,” he mutters. “That’s the problem.”
Your breath catches.
He lifts a hand and runs it over his horns, frustrated, ashamed. “I’m trying not to be. I’m trying to keep a distance. That’s all.”
“Why?” Your voice cracks. “Because you think you’ll hurt me?”
“I know I will.”
His voice is low. Raw. “You don’t understand. Every time you smile at me, I can barely breathe. Every time you touch me, I think about touching back, and I don’t know how to be gentle enough. I can punch through trees. I split a mountain open. I’m-I’m not built for soft things.”
“You are,” you say instantly. “You are soft. You’re gentle, and warm, and-”
“You make me want too much,” he says, choking on it. “And I can’t. I won’t risk it. You deserve someone who doesn’t have to hold back every second they’re near you just to keep from ruining everything.”
You reach up, cup his face. His breath stutters. His cheeks burn.
“Then don’t hold back,” you murmur. “Or if you have to… let me help you.”
His eyes widen.
“I’m here to take care of all of you,” you say, leaning in. “All your aches. All your tension. Even the ones you don’t ask for help with.”
His chest heaves. “You don’t know what you’re offering.”
“I do,” you say. “And I want you.”
Something inside him snaps.
His hands, big, rough, trembling, catch your waist like you’re a lifeline, but he still hesitates.
You reach up, touching his jaw, and feel how tightly it’s clenched. “Binnie,” you whisper, “I’m not afraid of you.”
“You should be,” he breathes, but it’s not a threat, it’s a warning. A plea. He tries to step back.
You tug him closer. Your fingers trail down his arms, feeling the raw strength in them. His biceps jump beneath your touch. His hands twitch where they hover at your hips, like he doesn’t dare settle them there. But you guide him. Let him feel the way you arch into his grip, not away from it.
“You’ve never hurt me,” you say, softer now, lips brushing his. “Even when you wanted to.”
His breath stutters. His forehead drops to yours.
“I think about it too much,” he says, voice cracking. “How it would feel to have you under me. Wrapped around me. Crying because I’m too deep and you love it… Fuck, I think about it and I want to lose control,”
You’re already wet. You swallow and take his wrists, guiding his hands beneath your shirt. His fingers flex once, then still.
“Then lose it,” you murmur. “I’ll tell you if I want to stop. But I trust you.”
That’s what undoes him. He growls, low and guttural, and lifts you like you’re nothing, one arm under your thighs, the other tight around your back, and your spine presses into a tree as he mouths hungrily at your neck.
“Too soft,” he mutters between kisses. “Too small. You’re gonna break.”
“Then break me.”
His claws dig into the bark behind your head. “Fuck.”
Your clothes come off in pieces, pulled and pushed and peeled away with a desperation that makes your head spin. His eyes drink in every new inch of skin like it’s proof you’re real, and really his.
He sinks to his knees again, this time without hesitation, huge shoulders parting your legs as he hooks one over his shoulder. You gasp at the sudden exposure. He breathes in deep and shudders.
“So fucking sweet,” he whispers. “You smell like want.” Then he drags his tongue up your slit in one long, filthy lick and groans.
Your fingers fly to his hair, tangling instinctively, and his claws grip your thighs to keep you steady. Even with one arm under your ass, he’s holding you up like it takes no effort at all. His tongue is thick and hot and relentless, circling your clit, dipping inside, then back to your clit again until your thighs are trembling and your eyes roll.
“You’re dripping,” he growls, voice muffled. “Fucking soaking for me.”
You choke on a moan. “I- fuckyes, yes, Binnie,”
He groans again. His horns press against your inner thighs now, spreading you open for him. His mouth is wild. He’s wild.
And still, every time your breath stutters too hard, or your hips jerk too much, he pauses, looks up like he’s checking if you’re okay.
You grab his face, desperate. “More.”
His restraint snaps. He stands again, mouth and chin soaked, and slams his lips to yours. You taste yourself on his tongue. His hand shoves between your legs, fingers thick and hot, spreading your slick as he presses one inside, and God, he’s big.
Your gasp turns into a high whine. His brow furrows. “Too much?”
“No!” You grind against his hand. “Just.. more.”
He adds another. Your jaw drops. His fingers stretch you wide and he’s not even trying. His thumb brushes your clit and you jerk in his arms.
“Shit,” he whispers, watching your face. “You feel so fucking good, look at you. Taking my fingers like you were made for them.”
His voice drops to a growl, right against your ear. “Think you can take my cock?”
You whimper. “Want it, need it.”
He groans like it hurts. You only realize how long he’s been hard when he finally frees himself, thick, flushed, massive in his palm. He strokes once, then lines himself up, panting against your throat.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says again. “But I can’t wait anymore.”
You wrap your arms around his neck and whisper, “Then don’t wait.”
The stretch burns. He goes slow at first, inch by inch, burying his face in your neck and whimpering, the demon is whimpering, because you’re so tight, so hot, and trying so hard to take him.
“Fuck, fuck, you feel like heaven. Shit- Too much. Can’t stop-”
You’re sobbing by the time he bottoms out. Not from pain, not quite, but the overwhelming fullness. You’ve never felt like this before, so stretched, so completely owned by the weight and length of him.
“Tell me,” he pants, “tell me if it’s too much, I’ll pull out, I swear-”
Your voice is a wreck. “Don’t you dare.”
He makes a desperate, ruined sound, and fucks into you. The tree behind you shakes with every thrust. Your back scrapes bark, your moans turn ragged, and your legs are locked tight around his waist. He grinds deep, slow at first, then faster as your nails dig into his shoulders and you scream his name.
“Taking me so well,” he groans. “You’re so small, baby, look at you, stuffed full-”
Somewhere not far, closer than either of you realize, a low rustle of branches stills. Rooted behind a cluster of mossy ferns, the forest hears everything.
He doesn’t even mean to look, but he catches one glimpse through the trees. You. Writhing. Arms around Changbin’s neck. A flash of teeth and sweat and flushed skin. Changbin’s back flexed, hips moving.
Hyunjin yelps. Out loud. Then bolts.
His foot snaps a branch as he crashes through the undergrowth like a deer in mating season.
Back in the clearing, Changbin freezes mid-thrust.
“…Did you hear that?” he pants.
You blink, dazed. “Don't stop…” you whine.
He grins. “Not planning to,” before picking up his movement again.
He presses a hand to your belly, eyes wide. “I can feel myself inside you. Holy fuck!”
You sob. Your orgasm crashes hard, suddenly, and shattering. Your body clenches so tight around him that he gasps, stutters, then slams deep again and cums, loud, brutal, holding you as his hips stutter and pulse.
Even after, he doesn’t move for a long time. He keeps you close. Keeps whispering that you’re okay, that he’s sorry, that he loves the way you feel, the way you held him, the way you looked falling apart.
Your thighs ache. Your pussy pulses, wrecked and overfilled. And you feel safer than you ever have.
Hi! I rlly love how you write jeongin in this series so could I request a jeongin x f!reader one shot that's abt his first time and it's very fluffy bc he's sensitive and easily overwhelmed.
Ty!! <3
2k Followers Event | first time
pairing: jeongin x f!reader
synopsis: shy first times of jeongin and his favorite caretakers
warnings: kitsune!jeongin, subby jeongin, first time, sensitive jeongin
event masterlist: #2kShootingStars
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AN: i could write about subby jeongin forever me thinks
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Jeongin has nine tails and every one of them is twitching.
“You’re not helping,” he whines, face flushed and pouty as you rest your chin on his thigh, brush hovering just above the fluff of his fifth tail.
“Not helping what?” you say sweetly, tracing idle circles against the inside of his knee. “I’m brushing your tails, Innie. You asked me to.”
He makes a helpless little sound, half-mewl, half-grumble, and buries his face in a pillow to hide the bright red of his ears.
His tails are more sensitive than he lets on. Everyone knows that. But you, you know exactly how to angle the strokes, slow and loving, lingering at the base until his hips shift with a quiet, pleading roll.
“You’re teasing,” he accuses, muffled into the cushion.
You hum. “And you’re pouting.”
Another tail twitches. You catch it, curl it around your wrist like a sash of silk, and run your fingers through the fur. “You’re so easy to fluster. It's adorable.”
“‘M not adorable,” he mumbles, eyes peeking out. “I’m a fox.”
“Oh, right. Big bad fox spirit. Master of illusions. Heartthrob of the woods.”
He tries to glare. Tries to hold it. But you’re still stroking his tail, and the glare quickly melts into a whimper, the kind that has his thighs tensing under your chin and his hips jerking minutely.
“Innie,” you say gently, “do you want me to stop?”
His eyes go wide. “No!”
You blink. He blinks back. You grin.
“Oh,” you purr, shifting to your knees, “you like it, don’t you? You’re all wound up from just a little brushing. Is my baby fox getting…”
“Don’t say it!” he squeaks, now definitely hiding.
“...horny?”
He makes a sound like a dying kettle.
You crawl up his body, hands planted beside his shoulders, nose brushing his cheek. “You’re so sensitive, Innie. You always get like this. All pink and squirmy. Is it just your tails that do it, or…”
You slide your hand down his chest, past the soft silk of his open robe, down to where he’s already tenting through the fabric of his pants.
“…here, too?”
Jeongin shudders.
“D-don’t tease so much,” he breathes, eyes finally fluttering up to meet yours. “I-I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Your heart melts a little. “You don’t have to. Just let me take care of you, okay?”
His first kiss is shy. His second is deeper. By the third, his arms are wrapped around your back and he’s making the prettiest little noises into your mouth, open and eager and completely overwhelmed.
You undress him slowly. He shivers the whole time, tails curling around your wrists like ribbons trying to tug you closer.
“Y-you're still wearing clothes,” he stammers, pupils dilated.
“So impatient,” you tease, pulling your shirt over your head. “You are adorable.”
He stares, lips parted. “You're… really pretty.”
You kiss the tip of his nose. “So are you.”
You take your time. Kiss every part of him, run your fingers over his chest and down to his thighs, where his cock twitches with every brush.
When you finally wrap your lips around the tip, Jeongin gasps like he’s just been dropped into water. “Ah w-wait! That feels- hah- too much!”
You only hum, licking slowly down the underside, one hand stroking what your mouth can’t reach. His hands claw at the sheets, knuckles white.
“T-tails!” he yelps, and you look up to see two of them tangled tight around your arm, knotting themselves anxiously like they’re also overwhelmed.
You smile around him, tongue flicking just under the head. He keens.
“I-I'm gonna!”
He whines, full-body shuddering, and comes with a sob, tails flaring out around him in a snowy explosion of fluff. He’s panting before he’s even done, blinking up at the ceiling like he’s not sure what plane of reality he’s on.
You crawl back up and kiss his cheek. “Still alive?”
His voice is hoarse. “Barely.”
You don’t go further until he pulls you down by your wrist and kisses you, clumsy but determined.
“I want to,” he whispers. “I want you to be my first.”
You search his eyes. They’re shy, still, but no longer uncertain. There’s trust in them. Wonder, even.
“You sure?”
He nods. “Please.”
You ride him, because you want him to see. You want to hold his face and kiss his trembling mouth and coo into his ear while he stammers your name over and over.
You sink down slow, breath hitching at the stretch, and Jeongin makes the softest sound beneath you, eyes wide in awe.
“I-Innie,” you whimper, rocking your hips once, just enough to slide a little deeper.
He grabs your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. “You’re so warm,” he breathes. “It’s… s-soft. You’re soft…”
You kiss him, slow and open-mouthed, moaning against his lips when he bucks up helplessly into you. His tails are shaking.
“S’too good,” he whimpers, voice cracking. “I c-can’t…”
“Yes, you can,” you murmur, holding his cheeks. “You’re doing so well, Innie. You’re such a good boy.”
His eyes roll back. He lets out a tiny sob. You ride him as he’s begging, until his fingers are digging into your hips and he’s twitching inside you, broken moans spilling between every shaky kiss.
“C-cumming, gonna-”
You sink down fully and stay there, clenching around him just enough to tip him over. He cries out, burying his face in your shoulder, tails wrapping you up in a cocoon of warm fluff as he spills into you.
Later, you’re lying in bed, brushing through his tails again while he whines quietly against your chest.
“I’m never gonna survive doing that twice,” he groans.
You giggle, nuzzling his forehead. “You did so well.”
Congrats on 2k! I’m loving this event. I was wondering if we could get some HC’s about the moment that the guys realize they may have feelings for you and how they would react to that realization?
You laugh as he flicks water at you again, sitting knee-deep in the pond as the sun dapples through the leaves.
He’s always like this with you, teasing, smiling, a little too close.
But something shifts when you look at him, face bare and wet from the water, hands covered in pond scum from rescuing a frog together. You smile like he’s a miracle, not a mess. And Chan suddenly forgets how to breathe.
“You’re trouble,” he murmurs with a grin, but his heart flutters when you call him your favorite kind.
He falls first. Hard. And makes it everyone’s problem, constantly offering you hand-picked moss or “accidentally” calling you beautiful in between flirty jokes. He hums your name into the water when you’re not looking.
naga!leeknow - wrapped around you
It’s the first time you rest your back against his coils without flinching.
You’re tired, distracted, murmuring thanks as you lean back and sink into his warmth. His tail flexes slightly around you, unsure. You trust him. Fully. Thoughtlessly. And you didn’t even realize.
Minho did. “You’re not afraid of me anymore.”
You blink at him. “I never was?”
Something cracks in his chest, quiet, soft, terrifying. He retreats for a day, comes back with a feather you said was pretty two weeks ago, places it in your hand with a hissed “Don’t drop it.”
oni!changbin - the gentlest wind
You find him after a storm, curled behind the greenhouse with wet hair and bruised knuckles, muttering apologies to no one. You don’t ask what happened. You just sit beside him and hold out a snack.
He eats it in silence, shoulders shaking. You lean into his side, all warmth and patience. He doesn’t dare move.
“You don’t have to fix everything,” you whisper. “I like you just like this.”
His heart breaks. Because no one has ever said that to him before.
The next morning, you find a tiny carved version of yourself on your windowsill, clumsy but full of love.
dryad!hyunjin - when flowers grow
It’s in the glade. You planted something new. A little sapling, gnarled and awkward, but it’s still growing. He watches you tend it daily, your hands gentle, your voice soft.
“Do you think it’s lonely?” you ask one day, touching its leaves.
“Not anymore.” He speaks so quietly you almost miss it, he steps forward, eyes luminous, “You make everything bloom again.”
He cups your face, brushing pollen from your cheek, and finally confesses, not just that he loves you, but that he needs you, and always will.
pixie!han - hits midair
He’s always been a chaos gremlin around you, sticking glitter in your pockets, stealing your pens, calling you silly nicknames like "Moss Muffin."
But one day, you trip. Just a little. On a root. And suddenly he’s hovering in front of your face, wings buzzing frantically, hands checking your knees like a cartoon nurse.
“You could’ve DIED. You almost- Do humans break that easily???”
You blink at him. “Jisung… I’m fine.”
And he realizes he just called you by your real name.
He’s spiraling inside. Oh no. No no no. I’m in love. They’re gonna find out. I can’t even fly straight anymore. This is it. This is how I die.
He disappears for a day. Returns with a flower crown, stuttering and red. “If I give you this, you have to like… not trip anymore, okay?”
mermaid!felix - tidepulled
You’re the only one who doesn’t shy away when he reaches for you. You touch his fingers underwater, brush back the hair from his cheeks. You hum back when he coos silently at you.
Then one day, you pull him into a hug.
His whole body stills. Then clutches you tighter than he’s ever held anything. His gills flutter against your neck, and he hides his face in your shoulder.
Later, he draws a note.
A shaky little scribble of the two of you hugging. With a dozen hearts around it.
You smile at him. And he beams.
From then on, every time you visit, he bumps your hand with his nose until you wrap your arms around him again.
elf!seungmin - between the lines
He’s sharp-tongued. Logical. Always reading, always five steps ahead. You’re clingy. You bring him mushrooms that look like cats. You make him flower bracelets. You sneak notes into his books.
He scowls every time. But he never returns the bracelets.
Until one day, you stop. You’re quiet. No bracelet. No laugh. And Seungmin realizes the greenhouse feels cold without you.
He finds you curled up, asleep near the koi pond. You look tired. He doesn’t wake you. He just sets the newest bracelet he made for you on your chest, then disappears like a coward.
He pretends he didn’t do it. But when you hug him, he doesn’t let go.
kitsune!jeongin - tricks i never learned
You just... always smile when you see him, even when his tails knock over all the plant pots. You laugh when he shifts wrong and ends up with bunny ears. You comb his tails even when he’s grumpy.
One night, you catch him trying to sleep in a pile of laundry again. “Jeongin, come on. You have a bed.”
“Yours is comfier,” he mumbles, ears twitching.
You freeze. His face goes red. So red. He turns into a puff of smoke mid-apology.
When he returns two hours later, awkwardly holding a plush fox in his teeth, he drops it in your lap and vanishes again.
It’s the first time he’s ever fallen for someone. He hopes someone falls back, preferably you.
Hi omg I love the haven universe so much can you do a story with how the boys react when f reader comes in with bruises or some kind of injury that was maybe caused by another staff member who was jealous of her closeness😉 with the boys and takes it out on her
What would they do? Would they retaliate, would they just comfort her or would they protect her?
2k Followers Event | bruises
pairing: ot8!straykids x fem!reader
synopsis: a new staff member grabs you a little too rough
You’d barely stepped into the greenhouse when you hear the soft splash of water. Chan emerges from the mist, droplets rolling off his skin, hair sticking to his forehead. His smile fades the moment he sees your sleeve slide back.
“Who did that?” It’s quiet, but there’s an undertow in his voice, a rip current you’ve never heard before.
Your instinct is to wave him off, but Chan steps closer, fingers brushing feather-light over the edge of a bruise. He doesn’t miss the way you flinch. “Don’t,” you whisper. “It’s not-”
“It is,” he says, and it’s not his usual warm reassurance, it’s cold, certain, protective.
You expect him to lecture, or to storm off, but instead he cups your arm like it’s something fragile, lowers his head, and presses the softest kiss against the bruise.
“I’ll make sure you never come home like this again.”
naga!leeknow
You should’ve known Minho would smell it on you before you even said a word. The atrium is humid and warm, coils stacked like molten gold beneath the sunlamps. His eyes open slowly as you approach, slitted pupils narrowing.
“You smell… scared.” He unwinds in one smooth, deliberate motion, and the sheer size of him always makes your breath catch. When his gaze lands on the bruises, his whole body goes still.
“They touched you.” It isn’t a question.
You try to explain, it wasn’t that bad, you handled it, but Minho moves closer, forked tongue flicking out, tasting the air near your wrist.
“You smell like them,” he says, voice low, dangerous. “Like anger. You didn’t fight back hard enough.”
Your throat tightens. “Minho…”
He exhales sharply, the heat in his expression melting into something else. Shame? Care? He pulls you into his coils, wrapping you up like the most careful kind of trap.
“No one touches you,” he murmurs into your hair. “Not unless it’s me.”
oni!changbin
The second he sees you, you know he’s going to explode. Changbin was chopping firewood when you passed by, shirtless, muscles flexing with every swing. His usual grin falters the second his eyes track the bruises.
“What the hell is that?”
“Changbin-”
“WHO THE HELL DID THAT?”
The axe hits the ground hard enough to split the dirt. He’s storming toward you, horns glinting in the sun, eyes blazing. You think for a moment he might actually hunt someone down and toss them into next week.
“Bin! Stop!” you grab his wrist, squeezing. “It’s handled.”
He looks down at you, breathing hard, anger rolling off him in waves. Then he sees the way your fingers shake against his skin. In one heartbeat, all that fury folds in on itself. His hands, those huge, terrifying hands, cup your face with infinite gentleness.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” His voice cracks.
You feel your throat tighten. “I didn’t want you to be mad.”
“I’m not mad at you.” He presses his forehead to yours, voice trembling. “I’m mad they thought they could hurt you.”
dryad!hyunjin
Hyunjin doesn’t ask questions.
When you find him in the clearing, he’s weaving flowers into a crown. He looks up, sees the marks on your arm, and his whole expression softens, not with pity, but with something heavier. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t demand. He just stands, walks to you, and presses the crown into your hands. The petals shake when your fingers do.
“You shouldn’t be touched like that,” he says finally, his voice low as the wind through trees. “You should only be touched like this.”
He cups your bruised arm, thumb brushing so lightly it feels like air, like sunlight. And then he presses a single kiss to your wrist, whispering against your skin like it’s a spell. “Only gently. Always gently.”
pixie!han
Jisung finds out accidentally because he always pops up when you least expect him. You’re reaching up to a shelf when your sleeve slips and there’s a flash of purple. He zips closer in a blur of wings.
“Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa, what’s that?”
“Jisung.”
“Oh my god, who did this? Who-who’s still breathing after this? Because I swear, I can make that stop real fast.” He’s buzzing around you like a hummingbird on caffeine, muttering half-threats about “pixie dust in their eyes” and “wasp nests in their shoes.”
Just as suddenly, he stills. He lands on your shoulder, unusually quiet. “...Does it hurt?”
You nod, barely.
He nudges his tiny forehead to your cheek. “I’ll make you laugh until you forget it hurts, okay?”
mermaid!felix
You don’t even see him at first, just the ripple in the Sanctuary’s pond. Felix surfaces silently, hair slick against his face, eyes locking on the marks before you can even greet him.
He doesn’t speak, of course. He swims closer, reaching up with cool, damp hands to take yours. He turns your arm over, tracing every bruise with trembling fingers, his lips pressing together in a frown so deep it almost hurts to see. Then he disappears beneath the surface.
For one terrifying second, you think he’s upset with you, until he comes back up holding something: a piece of smooth sea glass, pale blue. He presses it into your palm like an apology, like a promise.
elf!seungmin
Seungmin notices everything.
You don’t even realize he’s in the library corner until you hear, “You’re limping.”
You freeze. “No, I’m-”
“You’re limping,” he repeats, closing his book.
He stands, walks over, and without asking, gently lifts your sleeve. His jaw clenches when he sees the bruises.
“I knew they were trouble.”
“Seungmin-”
“I told the director they were trouble.”
“Seungmin.”
He stops, exhales slowly, and looks at you with that sharp, knowing gaze. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”
You look down, suddenly feeling small.
He sighs. His hand cups the back of your head, warm and grounding. “You can’t hide things from me, you know.”
kitsune!jeongin
Jeongin reacts exactly how you’d expect a kitsune to react, chaotically.
The moment he spots the bruises, he gasps so loud you flinch. “WHO TOUCHED YOU?”
Before you can answer, there’s a puff of smoke, suddenly there are three Jeongins pacing around you, all ranting at once:
“One of them grabbed you?!”
“They’ll never see it coming!”
“Which form do you think I should scare them with first?”
You try not to laugh, but the sight of three identical fox spirits plotting revenge is almost too much. Finally, the illusions fade and the real Jeongin steps close, cheeks puffed in anger, but his eyes wet with worry.
“You have to tell us when people hurt you,” he says, quiet now.
You nod, and he presses his forehead to your arm, whispering against the bruise like he can erase it. “No one gets to hurt my favorite human.”
congrats on 2k!!!!! can i request a naga!minho x reader? just a Drabble, (smut pls?) where reader is like entranced by his tail and so he shows her what he can do with it? again, congrats!! <3
2k Followers Event | cold scales, warm places
pairing: minho x fem!reader
synopsis: minho can feel your eyes on him... and he warned you.
warnings: naga!minho, smut, tail used for non-sfw things
event masterlist: #2kShootingStars
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AN: hehehehehehehe
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Minho always knows when you’re watching.Even when his back is turned. Even when he’s laid out across the central sunrock like a painting, half-shrouded in dappled heat-light, his torso propped lazily on one elbow while his tail coils in a loose spiral behind him.
It doesn’t matter how quiet you try to be. He still flicks his gaze your way with that impossible stillness, all slit-pupiled gold and knowing.
“See something you like?” he asks dryly, the barest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
You open your mouth, but your words vanish the moment his tail moves.
A slow ripple, hypnotic and deliberate, rolling down the length of it like he’s showing off. Sunlight strikes along the ink-dark scales in waves, glinting against patterns so fine they almost look carved. Spirals and arcs, runes hidden in motion. Each shift catches your eye, catches your breath.
“Caretaker,” he drawls. “You’re staring.”
“I wasn’t,” You fluster. “I wasn’t trying to.”
“No,” he agrees. “You never are.”
He uncoils then, leisurely, lethal, and his tail brushes against your ankle with a barely-there graze, so light you almost miss it.
Almost.
You jolt.
The next pass is slower. A cool line gliding behind your calves, up the backs of your knees, until…
You suck in a breath. “Minho.”
“Hm?” he murmurs, all innocent sharpness. “Too cold?”
He moves again before you can answer. Circling. One gentle loop, then another, trailing like a whisper up your thighs.
His torso stays still, half-lounging, but his tail? That’s the part of him he always uses first. Always watches you with while it circles you slowly, not quite binding, not quite touching, just reminding you he could.
The smoothe of it brushes your inner thigh.
Your knees wobble. “You’re- teasing.”
“A little,” he admits, and the sound of it is wicked.
You reach down instinctively, like you want to hold him still, but he moves faster, always does, tail darting away only to return from another angle. A sudden flick of coolness between your legs, not quite pressure, but enough to make your thighs twitch together.
“I’ve seen the way you look at me,” he murmurs. “Like you ache to know what it feels like.”
“I,” You gasp as the tip curls upward, sliding just beneath the hem of your shorts. “Minho, gods-”
“Careful.” His voice drops to a murmur. “I could wrap you up before you hit the floor.”
You shiver, and not just from the temperature. The control he has, the precise strength in every movement, the way his body could cradle or crush and chooses, always, to tease, makes something low in your belly twist and burn.
“Please,” you breathe.
He hums. “Please what?”
“I -” Your voice falters as that cool tailtip nudges higher. Not quite inside. Just barely brushing your heat through damp cotton.
He doesn’t press further. Not yet.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice dark and soft. “Already soaked. All I’ve done is touch you.”
You let out a broken noise, somewhere between whimper and plea.
Minho finally shifts then, rising to his full height behind you. His upper body stays close, almost chest-to-back, but he doesn’t touch you with his hands. Only the tail.
His breath ghosts your neck. “You want it?”
You nod.
He tightens one loop around your waist, gentle, steady, and then trails the tip lower.
“Use your hands,” he says. “Push your shorts down for me.”
You obey without question, trembling fingers dragging damp fabric past your thighs. You can feel the heat of your own arousal on the air.
Minho breathes in like he’s savoring it. A firm nudge at your entrance, cool.
The contrast is exquisite. The smooth scales are chilled from the river, and your body is flushed and burning. The moment his tailtip slips past your folds, barely inside, your walls flutter tight in shock.
“Fuck!” Your hands fly to his coil around your waist, clutching.
“Shh.” His voice curls against your ear like smoke. “Just the tip.”
He rocks forward, steady and slow. You feel the coolness first — then the subtle pressure, the give, the stretch.
“Oh Minho,”
“That’s it,” he praises softly. “Gods, you’re warm. I could stay inside you forever.”
Your thighs are shaking. You’re already clenching, pulsing around just the first inch or two of him, and he hasn’t even moved yet.
“Want more?” he breathes.
You nod, desperate.
“Then beg.”
Your whimper breaks apart in your throat.
“Tell me how much you want my tail,” he murmurs, lips brushing your jaw. “How long you’ve dreamed about this.”
“I-” you gasp, “I always think about it, Minho, every time I see it, every time you move…”
A moan rips from your chest when he pushes deeper.
“That’s better,” he purrs. “That’s what I like to hear.”
He thrusts shallowly at first, letting your body adjust. You feel every detail, every cool ridge of his scale pattern, every pulsing flex of his muscles beneath it. Your body clenches greedily, trying to draw him deeper, and he groans low.
“You take me so well,” he says. “Tight little thing.”
He picks up speed gradually, slow thrusts giving way to longer, firmer strokes. The length of him, the stretch of him, it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt. His tail curls tighter around your hips, anchoring you, guiding you.
“I can feel how close you are,” he breathes. “You’re squeezing me.”
You nod wildly. “Please, please, I’m-”
“Let go.” His voice darkens. “Now.”
Your orgasm hits like a wave shattering. Your body arches, walls spasming helplessly around him, and Minho holds you through it, tight in his coils, shuddering against the length of him as he fucks you through every last tremor.
He doesn’t stop when you finish.
Instead, his tail pushes deeper, curling upward just so, and your gasp turns to a sob.
“You can take more,” he says gently. “I know you can.”
You whimper, lost to it, boneless in his grip.
“I warned you,” he says, almost amused. “Didn’t I?”
You barely manage to nod.
His lips brush your ear one last time.
“You should’ve been afraid of me.”
Then, softer, curling, like a secret only for you: “…lucky for you, I’m only this cruel with the ones I want to keep.”
Oh, Sereia! Can you indulge me a little? I'd like to request for an insight into how each of them will react to their caretaker's past (in the form of an asshole ex) coming back to hound her?
I'll leave the circumstances to you, but would love to see how they get protective - either as a brother figure or as someone who has feelings for their caretaker. If it's not uncomfortable for you, can we hint at a chubby noona caretaker?
Thank you!
2k Followers Event | smooth tides hide storms
pairing: felix x fem!chubby!reader
synopsis: felix doesn't appreaciate people judging your appearance... not when he likes it so much
warnings: mermaid!felix, mute!felix, asshole ex bf, comfort
event masterlist: #2kShootingStars
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AN: idk why your ex would be there but i'm just a girl
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The sun is warm on your back, the kind of mellow heat that makes the Sanctuary feel like it’s holding its breath. You’re kneeling by the pond, hands submerged as you rinse dirt from your fingers, humming softly to yourself. Felix floats a few feet away, head and shoulders bobbing in the water, his hair slicked to his temples like a halo of spun gold.
He’s been watching you all morning, sketchbook balanced on the rock near the edge of the pond. Every so often he lifts it to scribble a few lines before his gaze inevitably returns to you, your messy bun, your freckled shoulders, the way your dress pulls just a little snug across your hips as you lean forward. You tease him about it sometimes, but he only ever blushes and hides his face behind the sketchpad, tail flicking under the surface.
It’s peaceful, until the voice shatters it. “Thought I might find you here.”
The words hit you like cold water. You freeze, turning slowly, and there they are. Your ex. Standing just beyond the tree line, smirk already plastered on their face, hands shoved casually in their pockets like they didn’t leave you bruised, inside and out, when they walked out of your life.
“What do you want?” you manage, voice clipped. "Who let you in?"
“Relax,” they laugh, stepping closer, eyes dragging over you in a way that makes you want to curl in on yourself. “Just came to talk. You look… well, you look the same.” Their smile twists. “Guess all those diets didn’t really stick, huh?”
The words sting, even though you promised yourself they wouldn’t. Felix notices the shift instantly.
He’d been floating, sketching, but now he’s moving. You don’t hear a splash, you feel the change, the water trembling around him as his tail slices through it. He closes the space between you and the center of the pond in a heartbeat, rising up higher than usual, droplets sliding down the line of his throat.
The ex blinks, startled. “What the hell is-?”
Felix’s tail slaps the water, hard, sending a wave that smacks into their shoes. His face, usually so gentle, is tight with something you’ve never seen before: anger.
You stand quickly, instinctively stepping closer to the edge of the pond, between him and them. “Felix,” you murmur, but he’s not looking at you.
His eyes are locked on the intruder, a warning in every sharp angle of his body. He doesn’t have a voice to shout them down with, but he doesn’t need it.
The ex scoffs, clearly uncomfortable but trying not to show it. “What, your new pet’s gonna protect you now?”
Felix’s fingers snap up, water flying from his fingertips as he signs, movements sharp and fast. You don’t need to translate every word to understand, his body says enough but you do anyway, voice shaking only slightly.
“He’s asking if you hurt me,” you tell the ex.
They laugh, taking another step forward. “What’s he gonna do about it?”
Another crack of water as Felix slaps the surface with his tail, harder this time. The wave soaks their jeans, dark water creeping up their thighs. The smugness falters.
“Felix,” you whisper again, and this time he glances at you. Just briefly. His eyes soften, not much, but enough for you to see the worry under the fury.
Your chest tightens. Because Felix isn’t just angry. He’s hurt.
He’s been drawing you for weeks now. Your hands, the slope of your neck, the soft curve of your belly when you sit cross-legged by the pond. He leaves sketches at the beach sometimes, folded neatly under bits of sea glass. He’s never once looked at you with anything but quiet awe.
And someone stands here, spitting poison that makes you shrink. He can’t bear it.
The ex tries again, words sharper now, something about how you should “come home,” how this “isn’t a life,” how you’re “wasting yourself here.”
But you’ve had enough. “Leave,” you snap, louder than you meant to. “You don’t belong here.”
They hesitate, just long enough for Felix to flick his tail again, deliberate this time. The wave that surges from him is huge, crashing into the bank and drenching the ex from head to toe.
They curse, sputtering, but Felix doesn’t blink. He just stares, chest heaving, daring them to try again. They don’t. They spit one last curse, mutter something about “freaks,” and storm off, squelching through the mud.
The moment they’re gone, Felix is already at the edge of the pond, tail curling against the rocks as he reaches for you. Your hands are shaking when you take his.
He pulls you closer, fingers cold and wet against your wrists, until you’re crouched at the water’s edge. He searches your face with those soft, freckled eyes, worry written in every line of his expression.
You try to smile, but it comes out shaky. “I’m okay,” you whisper.
Felix doesn’t look convinced. He cups your face in his wet palms anyway, cool skin soothing against your flushed cheeks, and presses his forehead against your arm. You feel the apology in the touch, the protectiveness, the promise. Because Felix might not have a voice anymore. But the next time someone tries to hurt you, they’ll have to face him first.
