#sorry I just saw these and just had to post

[kutepik]

Eyes on you

(nsfw 18+) Caleb has hidden cameras all over his house, and you've decided to put on a show for him.

2k words. posted also on ao3!

stalking, obsessive behavior, voyeurism, fem!reader.

Cameras. There were hidden cameras all over his house. There wasn't a bookcase or a mirror that didn’t have a little dot on it, almost imperceptible to the untrained eye. You only knew they were there by accident: when you took the elevator to Caleb's apartment, you bumped into an excited boy wearing a cap and uniform of a security company. 

"Are you Mr. Caleb's girlfriend? What a pleasure, I only saw you in pictures!" The boy waved, taking you by surprise. 

"No... I'm just a friend." You said a little confused, and the energetic boy explained himself.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I saw so many photos of Mr. Caleb with you the day I went to install those cameras that I thought you were dating. He also said he was installing the cameras to protect someone he liked." Cameras? What cameras? You thought, but before you could say anything, the elevator door opened and the boy jumped out. "Let me know if any of them stop working, I've installed so many I've almost lost count! Bye!" And so he disappeared down the hall.

Now you were in the living room, standing there in the middle, feeling the weight of your body and your movements, self-conscious about yourself and alert to the fact that you were being watched. Was he watching you? Now? Right now? That’s fucked up. Jail worthy. Caleb was obsessed with you and if your recent reunion hadn't already proved it, the dozen or hundreds of hidden cameras scattered around that room were proof that Caleb was sick. 

But we know the saying: When you point one finger, there are three fingers pointing back to you. More sickening than knowing that you were being watched, from every angle and probably in every room, was the fact that you were aroused. The spot between your legs throbbed, excited by the situation, by the fact that Caleb had probably seen you naked, had seen you sleeping, had seen you showering... It was so fucking wrong that, despite being against everything he had done in Skyhaven right after the reunion, you still delighted in remembering the possessiveness and obsession that melted at the words of your friend, oh, dear friend. 

In addition to the burning sensation between your legs, there was this tingle in your stomach at the thought of a man - not just any man, we're talking about Caleb - being so concerned, so devoted to you that he would kill and die for your happiness. In fact, a man who returned from the ashes and survived for you and you alone. He was no longer your sweet childhood friend... But that wasn't a bad thing. Now he became a man who had eyes (many, it seems, all over the house), only and exclusively for you. Caleb was crazy about you, and, oh shit, you loved it, which made you as crazy as he was. 

So you had two options: the first was to confront Caleb about why the fuck he had installed so many cameras in the apartment if the only person who spent time there apart from him was you; the second was to pretend you didn't know anything and carry on with your life as if everything was normal. 

You always chose the second option when it came to Caleb, ever since you were a teenager and in college. Whether it was sneaking around his room and finding your panties secretly hidden in the back of his closet, or listening to him masturbate while calling your name when he thought he was alone, you always pretended everything was normal. But ever since, and even more so now that you've found each other again, there was nothing normal about it, and no reason to carry on in the same way. After all, if he had changed, there was no reason for you to remain the same or pretend you didn't know anything. 

Then there was a third and new option: pretending not to know anything, but taking advantage of the situation to play with Caleb. Basically, make him taste his own medicine. If he wanted to see you, well, he would.

Pretending to be normal, you sat down on the sofa and took off your coat, throwing it on the coffee table. You took out your cell phone and called his number. 

"Is my favorite guest home yet?" Caleb answered in his usual animated voice. 

"Yeah. I'm bored. Still working? Is it break time?" You remembered that around this time he was most active on social media, so it should be the best time to put into action what you had in mind.

"Ah…You've always been very clever. Yes, I'm on break. I'll be home in two hours and we can do whatever you want. Don't get bored, you can turn on the TV or play a game on the console I have." Caleb was always like that, attentive to you, always wanting to please you. He wasn't much of a gamer, but because you liked games, he had bought a console with the excuse that he was getting interested in games. But now you weren't going to play with the console. You were going to play with something else. 

"Oh, no..." You put the phone on speaker and placed it on the arm of the sofa. You lifted your shirt and brought your fingers up to your bra, massaging your nipples. "I want to relax, not play." You said, holding your right breast while spreading your legs, slipping anxious fingers into your pants, brushing the fingertips against the wet panties. 

The call went silent. Bingo. He was indeed watching you, like the pervert he was. 

"Caleb?" You asked innocently, keeping your voice steady as you started moving your hand in circles, making it obvious what you were doing inside those tight pants. 

"A-ah, yes. Relax..." His breathing was heavy on the other end of the line, and suddenly you heard the sound of a zipper being opened. You had to stop yourself from moaning just then. He was starting to touch himself while watching you. "Why don't you, uh, take a shower in my bathroom?" His voice was a little choked. He was probably pumping himself slowly, staring at your live image through the screen in his office. Your pussy throbbed and suddenly your pants were too tight and too hot. You stopped stroking your own breasts and took both hands to the waistband of your trousers, sliding them down your legs. Then you took off your shirt, leaving only your panties and bra on. You positioned yourself again, this time with your legs spread wider and your heels resting on the table in front of the sofa. Your fingers returned to the soaked fabric of your panties, touching the sensitive clit through the wet cloth. 

"Yeah, I'll have a shower, I'm just finishing something up." With your middle finger, you moved your panties to one side to touch yourself directly. You bit your lip, holding back a moan, and squeezed your breast with your other hand. 

"Fuck..." he swore. 

"All right?" You replied innocently, holding back your unsteady voice as you carried on stimulating your clit at a steady pace. You wanted him to think you didn't know about the cameras, so you had to stay as normal as possible on the phone.

"Yup... I- I just hit my finger," he lied, slurring his words. 

"Caleb-" You said, catching your breath. "I miss you,"

"I miss you too." He sounded almost breathless. "I can come over now."

"No, you can't. There's work. Or is there something urgent you need to do here?" You quickly pulled down your panties, leaving them between your thighs. Then, out of the blue, you heard the unmistakable sound of a camera zooming in. He must have been eating you with his eyes, and now he wanted a closer look. You opened your folds, circling your fingers around the soaked entrance, like a pervert. You slowly moved the fingers up to your clit, stimulating yourself obscenely again. The other end of the line was completely silent, only a few low sounds and grunts were audible. "Caleb, is there something urgent you need to do here?" 

"Uh-" He stammered, and you raised your hips a little, grinding against your hand. "Fuck, fuck," he said. He didn't bother with sentences anymore. 

"What’s up with you? I'm feeling lonely and bored here. Can't you entertain me?" You teased innocently, but your legs were already shaking. 

"I can entertain you. Ah-" For a second, you heard the wet, rhythmic sound of his thrusts against his own hand. Oh my. Caleb had his pants down, sat somewhere in the FAA, and was touching himself like a teenager while he watched you. And you fucking loved it. "I can entertain you... I can be so, so good for you, if you let me." His voice was raspy and breathless. If you weren't so close to your orgasm, you might've asked him if everything was alright and put him in a tough spot again, but you couldn't even think about that. You were too caught up in your own pleasure. One hand was on your nipple under your bra, the other was all over your clit, and you arched your back on the sofa.

"I- I know you know how to entertain me. You're so good to me, always." You gasped, no longer caring that he was probably listening to the sound of your quick fingers against the wet flesh of your vagina. 

Suddenly, you heard a muffled cry on the other end of the line and several "Fuck, fuck, fuck" being whispered like a mantra at a low volume, as if he had his hand against his own mouth. He was coming. And that was all it took for the tingling at the base of your belly to explode and flow out of your pussy in an obscene and intense orgasm. 

You had just squirted all over the living room table and carpet, and had probably wet the sofa as well. The two of you were silent, only the audible gasp of your breaths as you caught your breath. 

"Caleb? Are you still there? It seems the connection was cut." You lied, still pretending you didn't know anything. He coughed and the sound of things being adjusted or stirred could be heard in the background. 

"Yeah, yeah… Probably disconnected or something." 

You got up and stood next to the sofa, looking at the mess you had left there. 

"Caleb I think I spilled...something on your sofa and carpet. Is there any cleaning cloth so I can clean it up?" You looked around. 

"NO!" Caleb almost shouted from the other side. "I mean, it's no problem, pipsqueak. You don't have to clean up. You must be tired from all this, right?" He cleared his throat. "From the trip, and everything. Just rest more, like I said, you can use my bathroom and take a shower if you want."

"Hm, where's that cleaning freak from before? Who are you and what have you done with my Caleb?" You heard a laugh on the other end of the line. 

"That's why. I'll take care of it. Please" The last word sounded as if he was begging. "I'll be home soon, and I'll be able to...entertain you, as you wish. We can, huh, relax together, too."

You laughed and picked up your cell phone, walking to the bathroom while dropping your bra in the hallway, knowing that he was watching here too. You picked up your wet panties and placed them on the bathroom door handle. In an instant, you could see a small dot hidden next to a painting, pointing directly at where you were standing. You stared directly at it, smiled and winked. 

"I'm waiting for you then, Caleb."

[grudgecollector]

hii queen! i saw that your requests are open, could you write something with daryl and a reader in the earlier seasons who are dating in secret? (they dont want no one to know because daryl is new to relationships and i believe he would be more reserved a little in the beggining), however the group ended up noticing how soft he is to her and how he always keep an eye on her😩 and also i just wanted to say that i read some of yours writtings and they are amazing💕💕

Gimme Shelter | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Tags: Swearing, twd typical violence, kind of slow burn, fluff, lightish angst, half proof-read

Words: 4.4k

A/N: Fank you so much nonny 💖😭 I've been really enjoying writing for Daryl, he was one of my biggest obsessions as a teenager, and that obsession will continue to prevail.

And this is such a cute request, I love secret relationship tropes so much. I decided to do Prison era!Daryl if that's okay, I assume you probably meant for like season 1 or 2, but I felt like it would be cute in the prison.

I know that a slow burn wasn't requested BUT the thoughts just kept coming the more I wrote. Also sorry this took so long to post.

Growing up people would always say you will find the one when you least expect it. Whether it’s in a grocery store, at the park, in a museum. That one person you’re bound to spend the rest of your life with will be there. As if they were waiting for you, and you for them. It was a fairytale dream, one that you lost faith in long ago. 

There were moments you had thought that maybe you finally found that person. Until disappointment would strike time and time again. Your experience with relationships had been less than ideal, never lasting longer than a year. Cheaters, liars, and worst of all abusers. Those types of men had always been the most drawn to you. Making you feel as if you were cursed somehow, unlucky. 

After a while and a slew of pity attempts, you gave up on dating for your own benefit. Deciding it would be best to focus more on yourself. Not allowing yourself to succumb to the societal pressure of getting married by twenty and popping kids out by twenty one. 

That was the dream of a delusional small town teenager, too young to think for themselves let alone plan a future family, and that had been your dream once upon a time. Maybe you read too many stories about young girls finding their prince charming and living happily ever after.

You started to value your alone time. Enjoying the feeling of not having to walk on eggshells in order to keep the other party happy. Things were smooth sailing for about two years. You changed your life around, got a new job, a new car, and a new apartment all within a few months. 

A newfound happiness was settling inside of you, you were beginning to find yourself again. You became more confident in who you were as a person, allowing yourself to actually live your life instead of just simply being alive. 

But life had a twisted sense of humor. 

Things started with frantic breaking news segments on the news. Reporters talking about the horrifying developments coming out of France. In the beginning you had hoped that things wouldn’t escalate past that, hoped that this would be an isolated incident. But things just got worse the more you watched. An unknown virus wreaking havoc across the entirety of Europe, spreading like wildfire across each country. 

After the first case of the virus was reported in Ohio, you started to worry. Things were getting too close for your liking, and with the details they were releasing it wasn’t going to get any better. With each new segment that aired your mother would call, urgently telling you to come back to live with them until this sickness blows over. You knew that it would be your best bet. 

Once the local grocery stores started getting raided, you found yourself being thankful that your family was full of survivalist nuts. Growing up hearing them praise people like Jim Baker, and other televangelist hackjobs like him that weaponized fear mongering for profit. 

Your parents home was stocked full of all the essentials thanks to your aunt Jess. First aid kits, canned food, water to last just a little over a month. It was everything you needed and more. 

“Y’always gotta be prepared, honey.” Your wine-drunk aunt had told you after a week, the both of you lounging on the sofa as you watched the news. “You don’t know how long this crap’s gonna last.” 

It all went by so quickly. The news stations eventually stopped airing not long after the first report hit Georgia, they were urging everyone to evacuate to Atlanta, leaving the streets a mess of honking and dead-stop traffic right outside of your parent’s home. 

And for a short while you had settled into this false hope that you were safe there with them. 

That was until you came back from a short trip to a ransacked Dollar General just down the street. 

The house was oddly quiet when you walked inside. The TV was muted on a flickering static screen, your dad’s recliner was empty, a blanket on the floor. The backdoor that led to the porch was ajar, the sun shining through the crack onto the wood flooring. You remembered that feeling in your stomach as you walked closer, fingers slowly curling around the doorknob. 

When you walked outside it felt as if a bucket of ice water was dumped over your head. The horrifying sight of your mother’s body being gutted by your own father and uncle, fresh blood dripped down the side of the RV next to your aunt’s already mangled corpse. Your hands were trembling fiercely, a nauseating coppery smell filling your nose. 

All you could remember was running. Packing whatever you could get your hands on before taking your mother’s minivan.  

Not long after the death of your family, you were taken in by a small group of five. They were unstable, barely hanging on by a thread, with almost nightly arguments tilting them further over the edge. 

It made things harder for you. The tension starting to make you too nervous to sleep without a knife tucked securely under your pillow. 

The self appointed leader demanded too much, wanting more than half of the rations to himself. He was a cruel hearted individual, mind diluted by the atrocities you were all forced to witness. A dangerous man who was quick tempered, and ruthless to anything or anybody you came across. 

After a month of running with them you made a mistake. You hid a portion of your findings from him. Food that he would have taken the majority of. But you were starving, at the point of hardly caring about your survival if it meant you could eat just a little bit more.

Other members had found out though, outing you quickly. As a punishment he tied you up, stole everything from you. Photo albums, your weapons, your food, bandages, it didn’t matter what it was. After beating you he left you in the supply closet of a convenient store you were temporarily camping out in. 

Part of you half expected them to come back, but you knew better than to think positively now, that could get you killed nowadays. 

The minutes blended into hours into what felt like days. The zip ties around your wrists and ankles dug harshly into your skin, biting into the raw bleeding flesh as you struggled to free yourself. Eventually it got to the point where you started slipping in and out of consciousness, your body exhausted and dehydrated. You were sure you would die there. 

But, much to your surprise, your luck hadn’t run dry just yet. 

In your haze you could hear the sound of once shuffling corpses hit against the door with a heavy thud. Hushed voices barely graced your ears through the door, two men talking to each other. 

Your voice was hoarse as you pathetically attempted to call out. Your throat was dry from the lack of water, forcing your words to come out as a croaking squeak.  

The door had been opened cautiously, the beam of a flashlight assaulting your eyes. You attempted to focus on the man crouching down above you, his blurred features obscured by the baseball hat he wore. 

“Rick!” The man called over his shoulder, another figure coming into view. He was wearing what seemed to be a police officer’s uniform. Whether it was stolen or actually his, you didn’t care, you just wanted out of this damn closet. 

Both men were quick to cut your binds and hauled you to your feet. The quick motion was all it took for you to finally pass out. A thick blanket of exhaustion pressed into you, forcing your eyes to flutter closed and your body to go completely limp. Unable to cling onto consciousness any longer

In those last moments you almost thought that they would just leave you there. Not wanting to bother helping a now passed out stranger, and you wouldn’t have blamed them if they did abandon you. 

Instead when you woke up you were laying on a couch, an older man with short white hair standing over you. 

At first you had almost believed you dreamed it all, the outbreak, the group. That you were in some sort of comatose state and the world was not overrun by flesh eating monsters. But the stinging pain deep within your wrists proved otherwise, the gashes covered by white gauze and medical tape. 

The white haired man, Hershel, ran you through your current state. Malnourishment, dehydration, feverish temperatures. It was evidently clear that you had been through the wringer, and if Glenn and Rick had not found you when they did, you would have died within the day. In fact he had said it was a miracle that Hershel himself could have saved you. 

You figured you had always been stubborn, though, you never gave up easily. 

Hershel had been kind enough to allow you to stay in his house until you got better. Providing you with enough water and food to get you back on your feet. 

The family allowed you to use their shower. When you looked at yourself in the mirror you understood why they were so insistent. A thick layer of grime and blood coated your skin, your hair was matted, your clothes ripped beyond repair. 

You couldn’t help but cry, realizing just how quickly you lost yourself out there. Your humanity has faded so much in such a short amount of time, leaving you a hollow shell of your former self. You looked like a stranger to yourself.

Over the next week Rick’s group urged you to stay. They knew you had nowhere else to go, no family to run back to. 

You were hesitant, though. You didn’t want to continue to be a burden, you were a stranger infiltrating an already close knit group. The closeness they had made you feel even more lonely than you did in your previous group, because at least when it came to them, you didn’t crave that companionship. 

Gone were the days of blind trust, knowing that everything always came with a price these days. So your knife stayed tucked beneath your pillow, fingers clutching onto the handle as you kept an eye on the zipped up entrance of the tent. 

On many sleepless nights, which were frequent, you would sit yourself in front of the dwindling fire outside of your tent. Mind wandering to everything that’s happened to you in the past three months, the things you’ve done to stay alive, the permanent scars you would carry with you for life. 

You stewed in your bitterness. Chewing ruthlessly on the skin around your fingernails. 

Your tent was further away from the rest of the group’s, tucked away in your own area. You found yourself watching the rest of them at first. Thoughts of running away while everyone slept crossed your mind more times than you could count. 

Until one night you heard a twig snap behind you, your knife quickly unsheathed and pointing towards what you thought to be a threat, 

“Geez. You’re almost as bad as Daryl.” One of the older men from Rick’s group, Dale, chuckled as he walked closer to your secluded camp, his hands up in surrender. “But I can go if you want.” He smiled softly. 

“Sorry… Bad habit.” You said quietly, setting your knife back down next to your thigh. 

He shook his head, taking a seat in front of the fire, “No need to be sorry. I can’t blame you for still being a little paranoid.” 

Dale quickly became a source of comfort for you, sporting an almost fatherly personality when talking to you. He was kind, and realistic which was exactly what you needed after everything you’ve been through. Over the course of a few nightly visits he was able to get you to open up a little, telling him about your former group, he was sympathetic and understanding. 

“The world has truly gone to hell.” He grimaced, taking his bucket hat off of his head. “But, we have good people here. Believe it or not.” His smile was reassuring. 

After a few days you started to come around more. Helping the women with laundry, listening to the stories they told about their lives before, anecdotes to keep themselves sane. 

It wasn’t hard to understand why they were so close. The tragedy of their former camp just outside of Atlanta, the C.D.C, Lori’s son getting shot, the people they’ve lost along the way. 

Slowly you felt more like yourself again.

Every so often they would mention that same name Dale did, Daryl. The only member of the group you had yet to meet personally. 

You had seen him walking around the camp, or tucked away in his own tent, further away from the group much like yours was. He was gruff looking, intimidating to the eye, and his occasional temper didn’t help much. But with how insistent he was on finding Carol’s missing daughter, you could tell there was warmth beneath his rigid exterior. 

The first time you talked to him was less than ideal. You were attempting to set up a snare trap in the woods, wanting to try and contribute a little bit more. The frustration quickly turned to embarrassment when he snuck up on you. Your feet got caught in your own trap and caused you to trip and fall. 

“Looks like y’caught somethin’.” Daryl attempted to joke, walking past you and deeper into the woods with his crossbow pointed towards the trees. 

You cut yourself free of the poorly made snare and ran to catch up with him. Choosing your words carefully. 

“Daryl, right?” All you got was a grumble in response, “Listen I know you don’t know me or anythin’... But could you teach me how to hunt?” 

“Teach yourself. I ain’t got time for babysittin’.” His response stung a little, harsher than you had hoped it would be. 

You figured you should have expected that, though, the conversation him and Shane had this morning was heated. An argument almost leading to a full on fight. The tension was growing higher and higher as the days dragged on with no signs of Sophia. 

Then the group found out about what was inside the barn.

One day when Rick was out helping Hershel, Shane took it upon himself to break the chains on the barn door. Walker after walker spilled out, being shot down ruthlessly by some members of Rick’s group, while the Greene family cried out for them to stop. Their worst nightmare coming true, as well as Carol’s. 

A little girl limped out, skin grey and beginning to rot. Her hair was matted with leaves, eyes a milky grey color, and a rasping snarl emitting from her. There was a large gash on her shoulder, a bite. It was devastating to see a child fall victim to such a death. But even more so for Carol, coming to realize that each day they restlessly searched, she had already been dead.. 

The safety that the farm provided didn’t last long after that. 

Shane was quickly losing his grip, Dale was killed by a lone walker, and eventually the fields were overrun by walkers. A massive hoard stumbling onto the property, drawn in by the frequent gunfire. 

You had lost quite a few on that night, good people that had helped you come out of your shell, people that didn’t deserve what they got. In all honesty you didn’t think you would have made it out either if it wasn’t for Andrea and Daryl. 

After the fall of the farm, you were all lost. Hershel and his family had lost their home, and the entire group was left to search. 

But you had to bury your sadness for the time being, winter was quickly approaching. The leaves were changing into a crisp orange color, and the wind had a bite to it in the mornings, leaving you shivering as you huddled closer to the fire. Daryl had been kind enough to let you borrow his poncho some nights, insisting you probably needed it more than him. 

Daryl seemed to warm up to you after a while too. He would subtly make sure you ate by leaving a half eaten can of vegetables next to you, or would occasionally sharpen your knife for you after doing his own. It was a kind gesture, letting you know that he was starting to trust you. 

Eventually it got to the point where your group finally ran out of canned food. There were no stores around, and everyone was too cold or tired to go anywhere. So Daryl decided to take you out to the woods, finally going out of his way to teach you how to hunt. 

“Y’know what you’re trackin’?” He asked one day, slowly walking beside you, following a small winding trail in the woods. 

You were quiet for a second, thinking as you analyzed the tracks next to your feet, “Could be a deer, whatever it is, it’s got hooves.” 

“Obviously.” He huffed, resisting the urge to smile when you glared at him. 

“Shut the hell up, man.” A small sigh came from you, “Could be a hog.” You crouched down and moved the leaves out of the way to get a better look, “The prints are close together, if it were a deer they’d be further apart, right?” 

Daryl just shrugged, “You tell me.” 

That’s how your hunts would usually go, Daryl providing frustrating nonanswers as you attempted to close in on your prey. He wasn’t going to babysit you, as he had originally said when you first asked, you had to figure it out yourself. You knew that was the only way you’d be able to learn, even if it was mildly annoying. 

The winter finally started to melt into spring, temperatures rising and falling occasionally until settling into an in between. And soon enough your restless searching came to an end, the high chain link fences surrounding a prison with walkers meandering the expansive field calling your names. A soon to be shelter for your group and many others. 

The fight against Woodbury had been a painful ordeal, with Maggie and Glenn getting taken hostage, and Daryl leaving with his brother. The group was briefly left in shambles, hanging on by a thread as Rick slowly faded away, losing his way after Lori’s untimely death and the birth of her daughter. 

When Daryl left it broke your heart a little. The two of you had bonded over the course of the harsh winter, often seeking each other out as a heat source. Whispering stories of your families filling the silence as the biting wind wrapped itself around you. But you could never blame him for leaving, knowing you would do the same thing if you could. 

The first attack from the Governor was when Daryl finally returned, his mouthy brother in tow. They had rescued Rick on the outskirts of the fence, luckily finding him just in time before he was overpowered. 

It made you happy to see your friend again, a hand squeezing his shoulder before pulling him into a hug. It had been a lot less awkward than you expected, his arms wrapping around your middle and squeezing softly, reassuring you that he was okay. 

“Well, ain’t that just cute.” Merle had teased, pinching his little brother on the cheek. 

But the tragedies were never ending, your group seemed to constantly be one step away from death’s doorstep. 

The Governor decided to make his way back to the prison, armed gunmen following behind him. 

They wanted to execute every last one of you no matter what it took. Your group had laid out traps, pretending to have left as requested, lulling them in with a false hope that you were gone. Until the shrill sound of the prison sirens started, smoke grenades being thrown down at their feet in the darkened hallways. 

The armed militia of men, mothers, and teenagers the Governor recruited had run away in fear, knowing that their fates would be sealed if they stayed any longer. 

As the weeks continued after the attack, things started to look up. That once forgotten positivity slowly makes its way back into your heart, along with a smile as you allow yourself to get to know the former residence of Woodbury. Your community was slowly forming, a home being made out of the prison. 

It was easy to become comfortable. 

And as your fondness grew for Daryl, you remembered what your mother used to tell you. 

“You will find the one when you least expect it.” 

Who knew that the world had to end in order for you to find him. With every soft touch, lingering whisper, and a quick stolen kiss in the shadows of your cell, it grew increasingly more obvious that your mother may have been right. 

Daryl was the only person you felt safe enough to be vulnerable around. His gentleness towards you breaking down the walls around your heart, settling himself deep within it. And you gladly let him. You both decided to keep your relationship a secret. Enjoying the thrill of sneaking around, while also avoiding any teasing remarks that would come from your group. 

You knew that this was Daryl’s first serious relationship, so you wanted to allow him the grace of warming up to the idea. You wanted him to become more comfortable with himself, taking his time with you, soothing any anxious wandering thought he may have. 

But you knew that the group would notice eventually. Hell, they already were. The small teasing remarks being thrown your way would make Daryl stiffen. He would pick at the strings on his denim jacket as he huffed and grumbled something in response. 

“You want me to slip her a note or somethin’?” Carol teased him, nudging her elbow into his side, “Do you like me? Check yes or no.” She laughed quietly when he rolled his eyes, “Come on Daryl-” 

She was cut off by someone running up to him, Glenn’s frantic eyes meeting Daryl and Carol’s before quickly sputtering out your name, “I don’t know what happened but-” 

The poor boy could barely get the words out before Daryl ran off towards the cell block. 

You were laying in your cell, blood covering your shirt as your side bled profusely. Hershel was quick to try and stop the bleeding, urging everyone to give him room to work. 

“If you want her to live, get out, now!” 

The blood drained from Daryl’s face as he looked at you. Bruises were beginning to bloom on your face and arms, your nose was bleeding and there was a slash on your cheek. Your boyfriend directed his anger towards one of the new members you had taken on a run, pinning him roughly against the concrete wall with his forearm. 

“The hell happened out there?! Huh?!” Daryl shouted in the scared man’s face, shrinking in on himself as Rick and Maggie tried to pull Daryl off. “Talk!” 

“We-” The man gulped, “We got attacked by a small group…” There were tears in his eyes as he tried to explain, his swollen lip trembling. He didn’t look much better than you did honestly, his eye was almost swollen shut, and there was blood coating his hairline, “She said- said she knew them, some group she was with. I thought they were gonna k-kill us.” He swallowed harshly, “They shot her…”

Daryl swore he could see red. His shoulders heaving as he started to pace, fingers running through his hair as he tried to process what the man had said. His face was hot, body pulsing with anger as he glanced back into your cell to see you lying there motionless. 

He stalked back up towards the man, his gaze hard and threatening as he spoke in a gruff voice, “If she dies, her blood is on your hands.” He pressed his finger hard into the man’s chest, pushing him harshly back into the concrete wall before stalking towards the exit of the prison. 

It took the entire council to talk Daryl out of hunting this group down himself. Carol telling him it was a suicide mission, and he would die if he left like this. Going into a situation blinded by rage was never good for anyone, especially now, with you lying unconscious in your cell. 

Luckily for you the bullet went straight through, and all they had to do was wait for you to wake up. 

Daryl didn’t dare leave your side, a rag gently dabbing across your forehead as he whispered softly to you. Unspoken words that he had wished he had told you sooner, words that only you were allowed to hear him say, something he had never dared utter to another person. Not even his own family. 

“I love you.” 

The time seemed to drag on slowly as he waited, his watchful not leaving you for more than a few seconds. His gentle fingers traced patterns on your skin, ignoring the occasional staring that would come from someone passing by your cell. He couldn’t bring himself to care about the secrecy, not now. 

“That fuckin’ tickles.” He suddenly heard you rasp, your eyes fluttering open and glancing down at his fingers on your forearm. 

Relief washed over Daryl like cool rain on a hot summer's day. His shoulders sagged and he couldn’t help but lean his head down to rest on your arm, a long sigh being released from his lungs. 

“Daryl…” You whispered, making him look at you, “It was my old group.” 

The look on your face was similar to the one you sported when they first found you, terrified, lost, confused. You didn’t know what to do with yourself knowing that not only were they still alive, but a lot closer than you would have liked. 

“I know.” He replied, his hand holding onto yours, “You don’t have t’worry about that right now.” 

Even though you were able to find happiness in the apocalypse, tragedy never ceased to sneak up from behind every corner. And you guessed that it had become easy to forget that life had a cruel sense of humor. 

It always would.

[kathaelipwse]

Offline, It’s You - C.Seungcheol

Requested: Yes Trope: Online Friends to Lovers, Hidden Identity, Slow Burn, Angst with a Happy Ending Warnings: Social Media Hate, Brief Mention of Anxiety, Mild Swearing, NO PROOF READING WAS DONE. Genre: Romance, Angst, Fluff Word Count: 2910 words {10-ish mins} Synopsis: A late-night interaction between Seungcheol and a small fan account leads to an unexpected connection. But when the truth comes out, and the world finds out about you, will he fight to keep you by his side? Author’s Note: I wanted to explore the idea of Seungcheol craving something real beyond the idol life—someone who sees him, not just his stage persona. This is a story of comfort, connection, and the kind of love that feels like home. Hope you enjoy it! It's a rushed one shot *sighs

Seungcheol had long since lost count of the days. They blurred into a relentless cycle of pre-dawn wake-ups, grueling rehearsals, high-pressure meetings with producers, and the dazzling, yet draining, energy of live performances. He was SEVENTEEN's leader, the anchor, the rock. He had to be strong, always. But the weight of expectations was crushing him.

Tonight, the silence of the sterile hotel room was a stark contrast to the roaring cheers of the crowd from just hours before. He lay in bed, the cool sheets a small comfort against his burning exhaustion. His phone was a lifeline and a distraction, the blue light harsh against his tired eyes. He scrolled through the endless stream of social media, a sea of fancams, stage edits, and fan art. He appreciated the love, but tonight, it felt like another reminder of the persona he had to maintain.

Then, he saw it. A small fan account, tucked away in the algorithm. It wasn't flashy or attention-grabbing. It was quiet, thoughtful, and… different.

Instead of focusing on the surface—the charts, the visuals, the perfect choreography—this account wrote about him. Not S.Coups, the leader. Not Seungcheol, the performer. Just Seungcheol, the person.

One post caught his eye: "Sometimes, I wonder if he ever gets tired of holding everything together. He always looks so strong, but even the strongest walls can crack."

His breath hitched. It was like the words had reached into his chest and squeezed. He felt a lump form in his throat. He scrolled further.

"No one asks if the strongest one needs a place to fall. Everyone expects him to be the support, but who supports him?"

Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes. He quickly blinked them back. He wasn't supposed to be emotional. He was the leader. But these words… they resonated with a depth that surprised him. This fan saw him, truly saw him, beyond the stage persona.

His thumb hovered over the "like" button on an older post. He hesitated, then pressed it. A wave of panic washed over him. He shouldn't have done that. It was a mistake. He should just scroll away, forget he ever saw it.

But his curiosity was piqued. He couldn't resist. He clicked on the account's profile and sent a direct message.

@ scoups17: "Your posts really hit different. How do you see things this way?"

His heart pounded in his chest. He felt a mix of excitement and dread. What if they ignored him? What if they recognized him immediately? What would he even say?

He waited, his anxiety growing with each passing second. Then, a notification popped up.

@ yourusername: "Hello! I am sorry, who are you??"

And just like that, his world tilted on its axis.

That simple question opened a door to a world Seungcheol hadn't known existed. He hesitated before replying, unsure of how much to reveal. He decided on a cautious approach.

@ scoups17: "Just someone who appreciates your perspective. I'm curious about how you see the world."

The response was immediate.

@ yourusername: "The world? It's a mess, but there's beauty in the chaos if you look hard enough."

Their conversations flowed effortlessly. They talked about everything and nothing—music, books, dreams, fears. You shared your thoughts on life, your observations of the world, your quiet hopes for the future. Seungcheol found himself drawn to your insightful perspective, your genuine kindness, and your disarming honesty.

He learned that your name was (Y/N). You were studying art, passionate about capturing the fleeting beauty of everyday moments. You had a quiet strength, a resilience that he admired. You weren't blinded by the glitz and glamour of his world. You saw the person behind the idol.

He found himself opening up to you in ways he hadn't with anyone else. He shared his anxieties about the pressures of leadership, the fear of disappointing his members, the loneliness that sometimes crept in despite the constant attention. You listened without judgment, offering words of encouragement and understanding.

Their late-night exchanges became a lifeline for Seungcheol. He looked forward to them with an eagerness that surprised him. He felt a connection with you that transcended the digital divide.

One night, he was working on a new song, struggling with the lyrics. He shared a snippet with you, a verse that felt particularly raw and vulnerable.

@ scoups17: "And in the silence, I hear the echoes of my doubt, a constant whisper that I'm not enough."

You responded with a simple, yet powerful message:

@ yourusername: "Doubt is a liar. You are enough. You are more than enough."

His heart swelled with gratitude. Your words gave him the strength to push through, to finish the song. He felt a sense of peace and validation he hadn't experienced in a long time.

As the weeks turned into months, their bond deepened. They exchanged playlists, discovering new music and sharing old favorites. They developed inside jokes, phrases that only they understood. They sent each other blurry, candid pictures at midnight, glimpses into their separate worlds.

Seungcheol found himself falling for you. He knew it was dangerous, that it was complicated, but he couldn't help it. You were a source of light in his often-dark world.

He hadn't planned on telling you the truth. He cherished the anonymity, the freedom to be himself without the weight of his identity. But one night, he slipped up.

He was talking about an upcoming concert, his excitement bubbling over. He mentioned a detail about the setlist, an unreleased song, a story behind a particular performance—something only someone on the inside would know.

He realized his mistake the moment the words left his digital mouth. A heavy silence fell between them. He waited, his heart pounding in his chest, anticipating your reaction.

@ yourusername: "Wait… how do you know that?"

His fingers trembled as he typed a response. He knew there was no way to avoid the truth now.

@ scoups17: "I… I'm Seungcheol."

The silence that followed was deafening. He could almost feel the tension radiating through the screen. He waited, his stomach churning with anxiety.

Finally, your response came.

@ yourusername: "You lied to me."

The words hit him like a physical blow. He felt his heart sink.

@ yourusername: "I trusted you, and you— You were SEVENTEEN's Seungcheol this whole time, and you never told me?"

He had no defense. He had betrayed your trust. He had prioritized his own comfort over your feelings.

@ scoups17: "(Y/N), I—"

But before he could finish his apology, your account was gone. Vanished into the digital ether.

He stared at the blank screen, his heart aching with a pain he hadn't anticipated. He had lost you. He had lost the one person who made him feel like just… Seungcheol.

The loss of your presence in his life left a gaping hole. He felt adrift, lost in the sea of his responsibilities. He tried to focus on his work, but your absence was a constant ache in his chest.

He poured his emotions into his music, the one place where he could truly express himself. He wrote about the loneliness, the regret, the longing for connection. He wrote about you.

When SEVENTEEN's new album dropped, it was a massive success. Fans celebrated the catchy tunes, the intricate choreography, the group's undeniable charisma. But there was one song that stood out, a ballad tucked away as Track 11.

It was titled "Offline."

The song was a raw, vulnerable confession. It spoke of meeting someone who felt like home, someone who saw him for who he truly was, but losing them because of his own insecurities. The lyrics were filled with longing and regret, a desperate plea for forgiveness.

The final lines, whispered like a secret, were the most heart-wrenching:

"I never meant to deceive you. You were the only person who made me feel like just… me. And now, I'm lost without you."

The song resonated with fans on a deep level. They praised its honesty, its vulnerability, its raw emotion. Little did they know the true story behind it.

And somehow, you heard it.

A week after the album's release, he received a notification. Your account had reappeared. He hesitated, his heart pounding, before clicking on it.

@ yourusername: "That song… 'Offline'… was that for me?"

His fingers flew across the keyboard.

@ scoups17: "Yes. Every word."

And just like that, the door was open again.

Two years of texting, voice calls, blurry pictures exchanged at midnight—but you had never met in person. The digital world had been their sanctuary, a safe space where they could connect without the pressures of the outside world.

But now, the time had come to bridge the gap.

Seungcheol was a bundle of nerves. He had chosen a quiet café, tucked away from the bustling city center. He wore a simple hoodie, trying to blend in, but his heart was racing. He felt like he was about to go on his first date.

He arrived early, choosing a table in a secluded corner. He scanned the room anxiously, his eyes searching for you.

Then, you walked in.

You paused at the entrance, your eyes scanning the room. They landed on him, and for a moment, neither of you moved. It was like time stood still.

He felt his breath catch in his throat. You were even more beautiful than he had imagined. Your eyes held a spark of mischief, a hint of a smile playing on your lips.

Then, you smiled—small, teasing, exactly like he had pictured in his mind.

"You're even moodier in real life, huh?"

He scoffed, rolling his eyes, but the warmth in his chest betrayed him.

"Shut up."

The tension broke, and a wave of relief washed over him. It was you. It was really you.

You walked towards him, your steps confident and graceful. He stood up, his heart pounding in his chest.

"It's… it's really you," he said, his voice a little shaky.

You laughed, a light, melodic sound. "Of course it's me. Who else would it be?"

He reached out and took your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. Your touch was warm and real, a tangible connection that grounded him.

"It's just… it's surreal," he said, his eyes searching yours.

"I know," you said, squeezing his hand. "It's surreal for me too."

They sat down, the initial awkwardness quickly melting away. They talked for hours, catching up on everything and nothing, bridging the gap between their digital and physical worlds.

He learned more about your art, your dreams, your fears. You learned more about his struggles, his hopes, his unwavering passion for music.

The hours flew by, and soon, the café was closing. They walked out together, hand in hand, the city lights reflecting in their eyes.

"It was… perfect," he said, his voice soft.

"It was," you agreed, smiling up at him.

He leaned down and kissed you, a gentle, tentative kiss that spoke volumes. It was a kiss of relief, of longing, of hope.

And just like that, everything fell into place.

Their newfound happiness was short-lived. The world of fame and scrutiny was always lurking in the shadows.

A single paparazzi photo, taken discreetly through the window of the café, leaked online. It was a simple picture—you and Seungcheol sitting together, laughing, holding hands. But the internet exploded.

The narrative twisted instantly. The comments were vicious, the accusations unfounded.

“She’s a sasaeng.”

“She manipulated him.”

“She was never a real fan, just a clout chaser.”

Your face was plastered across social media, your identity exposed to the world. Your inbox was flooded with hate, threats, and lies. People dug up old posts, misinterpreted your words, and painted you as a villain.

Seungcheol watched in horror as your life was torn apart. He felt a burning rage, a fierce desire to protect you. He knew he had to do something.

He stormed into the company’s office, his voice low but sharp.

"Fix this, or I walk away from everything."

He demanded they release a statement, denounce the lies, and protect you from the onslaught of hate. The company tried damage control, issuing a generic statement that did little to quell the storm.

It wasn't enough. The hate continued to pour in, relentless and unforgiving.

So Seungcheol did something no one expected. He went live on Instagram.

He sat in front of the camera, his face serious, his voice calm but firm. He addressed the rumors directly, his words measured and deliberate.

"I approached her first."

He told the truth, the whole truth. He explained how he had reached out to you, how you had become a source of comfort and support, how you had never sought fame or attention.

"She’s not a sasaeng. She was there for me when no one else was."

He spoke about your kindness, your intelligence, your genuine heart. He defended you with every fiber of his being.

"If you truly support me, stop the hate. Stop the lies. Let her live her life in peace."

The fandom shattered. Some apologized, recognizing their mistake. Some refused to believe him, clinging to their preconceived notions. The damage was done.

And you? You couldn't bear the pressure. You deleted everything—your social media accounts, your online presence. You disappeared from the digital world, leaving Seungcheol heartbroken and filled with guilt.

Seungcheol didn’t care about the consequences. He didn’t care about the cameras flashing, the reporters clamoring for a statement. He had to find you.

He knew where you lived. He had memorized your address, a detail he had tucked away in his mind, hoping he would never need it.

He drove through the city, his heart pounding with anxiety. He pulled up to your apartment building, his hands shaking as he turned off the engine.

He ran to your door, his knuckles rapping against the wood with urgency. He waited, his breath held captive in his chest.

The door opened, and there you stood.

You looked tired, your eyes shadowed with pain. But you were there.

The second you opened it, he exhaled sharply, taking in your fragile expression, your tired eyes.

"I’m so sorry for everything." His voice shook. "I should’ve protected you better."

He reached out to touch you, but hesitated, unsure if you would allow it.

You stared at him, searching his face, looking for any sign of deceit.

And then—before he could say another word—

You grabbed his collar and kissed him.

It was a passionate, desperate kiss, a release of pent-up emotions, a confirmation that you were still there, that you were still connected.

He froze for a moment, surprised by the suddenness of your action. Then, he melted into it, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you impossibly close. He poured all his love, his regret, his longing into the kiss.

When you finally pulled away, you smirked, a hint of your old teasing self returning. "So… two years, huh? Took you long enough."

Seungcheol groaned, pressing his forehead against yours. "Shut up."

You laughed, the sound music to his ears. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt a sense of peace, a sense of belonging. He was home.

"I missed you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

"I missed you too," you replied, your voice soft.

He kissed you again, a gentle, loving kiss that promised a future together.

The road to recovery was long and arduous. The scars of the scandal ran deep, both for you and for Seungcheol.

You took time to heal, to rebuild your life away from the glare of the spotlight. You focused on your art, finding solace in the creative process. You surrounded yourself with supportive friends and family, people who loved you for who you were, not for your connection to a celebrity.

Seungcheol, too, had to navigate the fallout from his actions. He faced criticism from some fans, disapproval from the company, and the constant pressure to maintain his image. But he remained steadfast in his commitment to you. He knew he had done the right thing, even if it came at a cost.

Slowly, things began to improve. The hate subsided, replaced by a growing acceptance and understanding. Fans started to see you for who you truly were—a kind, intelligent, and compassionate person who had brought joy and happiness into Seungcheol's life.

Seungcheol continued to support you, both publicly and privately. He never wavered in his love and devotion. He understood the importance of protecting your privacy, of allowing you to live your life on your own terms.

He also used his platform to speak out against online hate and cyberbullying. He became an advocate for mental health and the importance of kindness and empathy. He wanted to use his influence to make a positive difference in the world.

Months later, everything was calmer. The storm had passed, leaving behind a sense of peace and tranquility.

One night, you were curled up on the couch, wrapped in Seungcheol’s oversized hoodie, scrolling through your phone. He watched you, his heart overflowing with love and gratitude.

He snapped a picture and whispered 'I love you, sunshine' to which you blew a kiss to him and said 'I love you more cheolie'. He knew he couldn't win an argument against you. More likely you would give him that adorable pout and dude's heart will completely be melted within a matter of seconds, just like how ice-cream melts in Miami's heat during the summers.

The picture he clicked. It was a candid shot, blurry and imperfect, but it captured the essence of your relationship—the comfort, the intimacy, the genuine connection.

Without thinking, he posted it on his private Instagram account, a platform where he shared glimpses of his life with his closest friends and family. The caption was simple, yet profound:

"Offline"

[cameronsbabydoll]

i saw you posted something similar to this yesterday – but i can totally imagine reader making rafe get a pinterest account and follow her. she’d help him make boards based of his interests (and some of her own.. aswell a wishlist of things she wants..) and rafe would be like “who tf is this lana chick?” “why is it all pink?” “what are whispers?-” he’d be so confused 😭 imagine one of his friends using his phone for a second and they’d be like “rafe why do you have pinterest downloaded..”

You were lounging on the couch, scrolling through Pinterest with Rafe beside you. He was pretending to look interested while you excitedly clicked through your boards. Today, you were showing him your favorite pins, pulling him into your wishlists, lana del rey, outfit inspo, and coquette aesthetic.

“M’kay, now we’re going to make a board for your favorite things,” you said, turning to him with your phone. “I’ll help you. We can start with like overpriced cars and watches, kay?”

He glanced at the screen, clearly uninterested but indulging you. “Sure, sweetheart. Whatever.”

As you work on his boards, you couldn’t help but giggle when you saw Rafe’s eyes widening as you showed him some of your personal boards. “Now this one,” you said, scrolling to your Lana Del Rey collection, “is my favorite. lana is basically like my mother, and these are all of the aesthetics of her albums — this one is lust for life..”

Rafe stared at the screen, furrowing his brow. “Who the hell is this Lana chick?” He zoomed in on a picture of Lana sitting in a vintage car, looking all sultry and wistful. “Why’s everything pink? What’s with this?” He handed you your phone, clearly baffled. “She looks like she’s from another century.”

You rolled your eyes. “You don’t get it Rafe! She’s embracing her songs! Not my fault you listen to like classical music.”

He scoffed. “I don’t get it, alright. And what’s this girlblogger board? What does that even mean?”

“Oh, it’s for like girly stuff,” you explained.

“Girlblogging?” Rafe stared at you like you had two heads. “What the hell are you talking about? He was still looking at your phone like it was an alien artifact.

“Because it’s a girl thing!,” you said, amused by how lost he was.

He rolled his eyes and smirked. “Yeah, I’m good.” He scrolled through your Wishlist board next. “Hold on, what’s this? You’ve got, like, a thousand pins in here. A thousand, baby?”

“It’s just a collection of things I like! You know, for future reference. A girl’s gotta dream,” you teased, clearly enjoying how flustered Rafe was getting.

“Yeah, I don’t know what half this shit is. What’s a coquette?” He was genuinely confused, clearly trying to make sense of this whole Pinterest thing. “Why is it all so... pink? And what the hell’s with all the ‘girly’ shit?” He flicked through more pins and let out a dramatic sigh. “Sorry doll”

You giggling at the look on his face. “It’s an aesthetic, Rafe. You know? You’re just too masculine minded!”

Rafe just stared at you, utterly lost. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” He set the phone down and raised his hands in mock surrender. “You’re on your own with this Pinterest nonsense, sweetheart.”

The next day at work, Rafe’s phone buzzed on his desk, and one of his coworkers grabbed it for a second to check the time. Glancing at the screen, they paused, staring at the Pinterest app.

“Rafe... why do you have Pinterest downloaded on your phone?” His coworker raised an eyebrow, smirking as they scrolled through the pins. “What’s with all the pink?”

Rafe snatched his phone back, his face red. “It’s not a big deal, alright?” he muttered, trying to cover his embarrassment. “My girl made me download it. It’s nothing.”

His coworker wasn’t letting it go. “You’re telling me you’ve got a whole Pinterest account for... your girls wishlist and her aesthetic?”

Rafe glared, irritated. “Just delete it and shut up, alright?” he snapped, desperately trying to defend his dignity.

[solshii]

notes to follow up from my last post<333

After YQY’s transformation into an alicorn, he was taught how to use his magic and flight by mostly his shizun, Qiong Ding peers and fellow head disciples.

LQG was the pegasus who helped him with his flight skills the most, though SQH was better at helping him grasp the basics of flight

Something about the basics already being second nature to LQG so he finds it difficult to convey the concept, while SQH is normally a weak flier who often gets winglocked (like Fluttershy) so he knows many ways to make the basics make sense .iykwim

I actually chose that weak flier who gets winglocked trait for SQH because I felt like it would make the Moshang Maigu Ridge scene cooler + it fits the flighty persona he has I guess ahah

Zui Xian head disciple is also a pegasus but was barred from teaching YQY because they weren’t gonna “teach the future sect leader to fly like a drunk”

YQY does give that ribbon to SJ as his first gift 🙂‍↕️ And if SJ noticed that it’s the same shade as his own magic then he didn’t say anything

Honestly I can’t figure out how to draw unicorn magic in a way that I like so for now it’ll just be represented via sparkles

Fun design detail ponies usually have one colour for their magic but YQY has two because I love that guy

Yes Bingqiu do tend to hook their horns together whenever they nuzzle<33 It’s like their pony equivalent of hand holding and/or hugging lol

More of an ‘on the whim idea w/o a solid reason’ I had while I was designing YQY, but the star shaped mark on his chest is more like a scar than his natural coat pattern. That’s why in the little ‘flashback’ Yue Qi doesn’t have it

The potential reason that I bullshitted at the time was because he was turned into an alicorn earlier than he should’ve been as his shizun’s attempt to stabilise his qi in the Caves or some kinda reason to that degree 💀💀💀 on top of the whole soul-bonding thing with Xuan Su too

Yk how in Twilight’s alicornification a weird blob thingamabob came out of her chest

Yeah idk bro was really going through it

Sorry YQY

It would be pretty sick cutie mark symbolism though cause I did imagine YQY getting his cutie mark in the Lingxi Caves and if you read my last note dump then you’d have read I had plans of using broken chains in its design

I clearly hate this man but it’s just a tentative idea rn

Behind SJ’s cracked horn (TW: Abuse (read: Qiu Jianluo)) I imagine receiving abuse as a foal often resulted in strong magic surges from him (kinda like qi deviations but for unicorn magic) and out of fear QJL would inflict pain to his horn or use some kind of blocker to stop and permanently damage his magic

I entertained the idea of his horn being fully broken off in the first place but Wu Yanzi probably saw a use in his unicorn magic, so he could’ve restored his horn as best he can using backwater cultivation and magic methods lol

Bingge does snap off his horn on top of his limbs in PIDW tho

So yeah while he’s still able to use his magic he can’t control it with the same proficiency as he used to

I think the horn guards he wears, atop of hiding the scars/cracks, are probably made with engraved arrays that help to stabilise his unicorn magic

And the horn guards are probably like a status and wealth symbol too in the same way nail guards are, so it does feel a bit gaudy for SQQ to walk around with it all of the time as if he’s flaunting it

[dirtysvthoughts]

foreplay with soonhoon 😋

general tags/warnings: smut, kinda pwp, lowkey filth (what can i say my boys have inspired me), boyfriend!soonyoung, boyfriend’sbestfriend!jhoon, female!reader, pet names (baby girl, pretty), dirty talk, very slight hint of degradation, kissing, fingering, eating out, hints of masturbation - if i missed anything please let me know

author’s note: uh wow besties… it’s been 6 months or over 6 months since i last wrote for you guys :( i missed writing for y’all but life has been lifing and i’m going through some interesting (but beneficial) changes so there still might some periods of silence from me. sorry that this is out before baecation, pt. 2 but this is probably gonna help speed the process in me finally posting it 😭 i haven’t had the energy or motivation to write in a very long time, but this is a good start!

anyway, howoo comeback inspired me (two members of my bias line 🤭) and this has been a thought on my mind.. my nerdy, pretty boys who i need to fuck me until i can’t walk STREAM 96ers and BEAM! 🥵

everyone thank you to the queen, the legend herself @sluttyminghao for saying something in the svthub discord which resulted in what you see before you 😘 ENJOY BESTIES!!!

hands roamed all over your naked body, your tiny gasps echoing throughout the space of your bedroom.

you lower your head and bite your lip as a hand comes in contact with your wetness, holding back a moan that might’ve been loud enough for someone to hear if they were downstairs.

“fuck, touch me right there, p-please,” you whine breathlessly as hands caressing turn to scissored fingers angling in and out of your pussy.

“you’re so wet pretty,” jihoon smirks as he begins playing with you, admiring the sounds you were making. “can’t believe i finally get to experience you,” he kisses your navel which sends shivers down your spine, and a low moan that escapes your mouth.

soonyoung takes the opportunity to put two of his fingers in your mouth, inviting you to suck on the digits - chuckling at how eager you are as your tongue coats his skin. “you love this don’t you? your boyfriend and his best friend giving you the best foreplay you’ve ever had.. you look so cute, looking at us so desperately - so desperate to get some dick and to get fucked.”

“mmmm, keep talking like that to me, soonyoung- a-ah!” you groan out as jihoon replaces his fingers with a long lick against your clit, gripping his hair with one hand and grasping soonyoung’s bicep with the other.

“h-hoon, fuck, you’re so good at that!” you exclaim as he continues his work on your clit - licking, sucking, and kissing as he can feel your knees get weaker.

before your strength falters completely, jihoon comes off you, seconds before you were about to burst over his lips and chin. you whine again, but this time in defeat, nearly pouting at what your boyfriend’s best friend just did.

“why’d you stoppp? i was just about to cu-“ you say, but soonyoung shuts you up with a firm, deep kiss on your lips and you can’t help but melt into his touch. when you part from each other, you noticed that jihoon has moved to the edge of your bed, unbuckling his belt to unbutton his pants, smirking as he made eye contact with you (which in turn made you blush).

“be nice to our guest baby, he’s doing such a great job taking care of you, you can oblige him can’t you?” you nod your head as he gently pushes you towards jihoon, unbuttoned pants teasingly exposing (what you hope) was a fat, lengthy dick.

“i saw you about to cum from me just tasting you on my tongue.. but i have so much more plans for you, pretty, plans to keep you coming all night long… so you better hold it for now,” jihoon kisses your temple, your cheeks, and your lips.

“be a good girl for my best friend, baby girl,” soonyoung smirks, whipping his dick out to enjoy the show.

[ivysprophecy]

I'll Be Damned

an: ummm @kimoralov3 gave me a request and we both decided i needed to write it immediately. sorry if its a little whorish LOL. the actual request is from a tumblr post TAGGED HERE AND I WILL TAG THE CREATOR @wttcsms i wanna make sure credit is given where its due. also i got SO CARRIED AWAY the longest thing ive ever written LOL and i started this so long ago i think the original post got deleted, whoops.

warnings: talks about conservative/strict/religious upbringing, purity rings, mentions of weed, loss of virginity, protected sex, mentions of not being on contraceptives, religious talk, mdni 18+, oral fem!recieving

word count: 4373

you were no saint, that much was certain. god knows if your parents knew you were alone in a boys room with said boy theyd have your head on a stick.

especially if they knew that boy was jj maybank.

your parents werent bad people by any means, they knew not to judge someone based on things out of their control. but in their defense jj had made some questionable choices.

but that was part of his appeal. his charm was his impulsivity, his wit, his knack for excitement.

how he'd decided youd be good friends you have no idea but you couldnt be happier that he had.

or else you wouldnt be sitting in his bed at the chateau with him as he smoked a joint and watched whatever sit com you were currently binging together.

"can I ask you something?" he blurted out of nowhere, his eyes still trained on the small television screen.

your head whipped in his direction at his cautious tone, "shoot," you said curiously. why did he sound so worried?

had you done something wrong?

"whats that ring? on your pinky finger..." he motions with a nod of his head down to your hand that was sitting in your lap, "i know you said its a family thing. does it have a meaning or something?"

oh boy. i hate this talk.

"its uh... its a purity ring... my dad gave it to me at my confirmation last year," he almost choked on his own spit.

"a- a purity ring? i know you said you were religious but damn- i thought those were some kind of fallacy..."

"im so proud of you! you just used 'fallacy' correctly in a sentence!" you said with an exaggerated sense of excitement hoping to change the subject.

you hated being judged for your ring. you saw the looks from boys when they saw it, if they knew what it was. girls teasing you for being a prude.

when in reality it wasnt much of a choice. rationally, you know having sex wouldnt send you into the fiery pits of hell. rationally, you knew that in your faith, heaven was created for sinners who had earned forgiveness and preached love and prosperity and worshipped God. but irrationally... what if your parents were right? your faith was important to you, a key part of how you were raised. you didnt want to become a disappoint by giving into temptation.

but late at night when a certain blond snuck into your thoughts... you wanted to give in. badly.

"i wasnt judging you, i was just a lil shocked alright? i didnt know you were that serious about all that," hed held up his hands in defense trying to calm your nerves on the sensitive subject.

"honestly?" you turn to face him with a shameful look on your face, a pink hue covering your cheeks perfectly, "sometimes i dont think i am. or- that my values and beliefs dont really line up like that."

"what do you mean?"

"just that. i dont think purity matters THAT much ya know? and forgiveness is there for a reason. that having sex doesnt mean im not a good person. right?"

jj chuckled lowly, "mama if that were true id be considered down right satanic."

you couldnt hide your laughter after his comment either. hes just so infectious. clearly with the way thoughts of him had been invading your mind lately.

"its not just that- then the insecurity comes along with it, even if i changed my mind everyone already knows about it. no guy would ever wanna sleep with me. unless its some kind of weird kink thing and i dont think my religion should be fetishized-"

"are you kidding me?"

"um... no? im not really comfortable with that-"

"no- mama-" jj shook his head in his hands, "there are plenty of guys that would wanna sleep with you. not just for some creepy kink."

"name one," you said seriously. because seriously, who the fuck would wanna sleep with you? not a single person has ever shown real interest in you ever-

"me."

shut the fuck up. he said that so confidently?! hello?!

your eyes widen with shock, "p-pardon?!"

"i didnt stutter right? i said pretty clearly that i want to have sex with you-" you clamped a hand over jj's mouth instinctively. praying that john b hadnt heard his friends loud proclamation across the hall.

"i heard you the first time!" you whispered, your tone stern.

jjs eyes gestured to the hand on his mouth as if to say 'move please so i can speak'. part of you didnt want to move your hand, partially because of what he might say, and the other because touching him kinda felt nice. in anyway you could.

haphazardly, you decide to remove your hand from his face, your face still showing your disbelief.

"why are you so confused? you asked a question and i answered it-"

"because i- well i didnt expect that from you. and i dont need a pitty fuck if thats what youre trying to say because thats even more pathetic."

"okay none of that- no maam," jj interrupts me shaking his head, "im not gonna listen to you talk about yourself like youre completely undesirable. because thats so fucking unbelievable."

his face, on rare occasion, is utterly serious. oh my dear god he really did wanna sleep with me...

lord if this is a test i want to assure you this not a battle you wanna give me. im not your strongest soldier because i will fold faster than a lawn chair.

"youre serious??"

"do i look like im jokin? do i have a mic in my hands? is there an audiance i dont see? cause im not a fucking comedian. im being for real."

what are you supposed to do now? like actually? do you kiss him? no one prepared you for what to do in this situation.

"okay listen- you look pretty freaked out. im not saying we have to or anything im just saying... ive thought about it ya know? youre gorgeous and were close so i just thought maybe youve thought about it too."

well here goes nothing, "i have. thought about it i mean. a lot."

"oh really?" that made jjs brows quirk up and a smirk plaster across his face. he always has to be so smug, "is that so?"

"dont do that!"

"do what?" he questioned.

your cheeks flush in embarrassment, "make me feel like this is so easy. because it isnt."

"but it could be," jj pauses the tv before looking directly in your eyes, meaning business, "you just said that this is what you want right? im right here offering it to you so whats stopping you?"

you took a deep, shaky breath at his words. you really didnt wanna sound like a crazy person but being scared of sex was normal right? especially with your best friend of all people.

there were so many reasons not to do this.

"honestly? im scared. scared of what that would mean for us, scared of actually doing this. scared of... a lot of things. im a chicken. a big fat crazy chicken."

he couldnt help but laugh at your words. thinking 'what the fuck is she on?'

and part of him knew hed have to talk you off the ledge if you were gonna do this, but hes willing to work for it. work for you.

"mama listen to me. we can be whatever the hell you want us to be, youre my girl whether we're just friends or my head is between your legs. and as for the other part- id never ever hurt you m'kay? if you wanna do this i promise id go as slow as you want. you set the pace, ill be gentle. but im not trynna make you do this."

oh my god jj maybank just gave you 'the speech'.

and youre sitting here with all of your clothes still on.

"and lets say i do... wanna do this... you really want this? like this isnt out of pity or curiosity or anything?"

"maybe im not making myself clear. y/n. i wanna have any and every part of you that you'll let me."

holy shit okay... yeah okay. this is really happening.

you try to scramble for the words caught in your throat, "okay.. h-how do i do this? what if i do it bad?"

"youre not gonna 'do it bad'," he chuckles through his words, one of his hands sliding onto your thigh, "look ill guide you through it okay? we'll go slow... i promise."

"that sounds...nice."

"i sure hope so," he chuckled softly, "otherwise we wouldnt be doing it... and if you wanna stop just tell me okay?

all you could was nod and watch as he moved so he was hovering over you and you were laid flat against his bed.

"i need to hear you say it mama..." his face was so close to yours you could barely muddle up a whisper in response giving him a small 'yes' before finally feeling his lips press into yours.

it wasnt anything like you thought it would be. it was... gentle, sweet, tender in the most romantic way.

but you could tell he was holding back...

your hands found the nape of his neck and quickly pulled him closer, needing more of him. wanting him to show you what its really like, not some pussy foot version.

his lips travelled further down to your jaw... to your neck... to your collar bone...

"can i take this off?" there was a small tug at the hem of your shirt, his eyes pleading with you, begging even.

you sat up almost immediately, helping him pull it over your head, and just like that his eyes were glued to your chest.

the pink on your cheeks intensified to a red at the sight, at first you were thinking of the worst case scenario. that hed changed his mind, the they didnt look right, that you werent as appealing as hed assured you.

his hands instinctively reached out but he stopped himself, unsure if he was moving too fast, doing too much.

"gorgeous..." his eyes were wide with excitement, raw and unfiltered. the inside of his mouth salivating at the sight of your braless body. "can i touch you? please god- ill pray if it means i can."

the laugh that escaped you was just as unashamed as his pleas, "yea. yea jay you can touch me," you wanted laugh more. aware that hes being considerate of your feelings but it was almost stupid how badly you wanted this.

he quickly pulled his shirt over his head before diving back in to kiss you, his hands gently kneading at your breasts. you were a bit disappointed you didnt get to ogle at him like he had you, but youd seen him without a shirt enough times at the beach to satisfy curiosity.

"jj-"

his head whipped up so fast from trailing gently little kisses across the swell of your breasts, a worried expression crossing his face. "you okay baby? need me to stop?"

"no- no i just... you can keep going. i need more. i need you..." your breathing was heavy as were your eyes.

"you sure? im just trynna go slow and make sure youre okay. wanna take care of ya."

"im okay jj... i promise. this is what i want," you meant what you said too. there isnt anyone else youd want to do this with.

he gave me a look, once more chance to back out, before letting a deep rooted sigh out. sounded more like relief than anything.

his fingers hooked into the belt loops of your shorts giving them a firm pull, "these need to go. now."

and he didnt have to tell you twice, within seconds they were unbuttoned and being pulled past your knees and being thrown across the room with abandon.

the giggle that escaped your throat was involuntary as jj pulled you buy your ankles further down the bed so the back of your knees were hanging off the edge of the bed.

"jj! what are you doing??"

"m gonna eat, fucking starving. now spread your legs f’me. wanna see that pretty pink pussy," jj knelt to the ground, threw my legs over his shoulders with urgency, looking down and admiring the view before him. “you’re so fucking perfect…”

you didn’t think someone just talking to you could elicit a moan from you, however jj was always there to challenge you. like right now.

he was peppering small kisses down the inside of your thighs, along the curves of your hips, avoiding where you need him most trying to make you feel appreciated.

he’s doing a good job too.

his thumb gently glides over your sensitive clit with a featherlight touch making me shake with need, the other hand holding your hips against the mattress as you feel his lips finally capture your core and his tongue starts lapping at the bundle of nerves.

your hand flies to his hair gripping it tightly between your fingers eliciting a groan that vibrates through you as his tongue continues to skillfully pull every sound from you and send shocks through your body

theres a feeling of something toying with your entrance delicately, looking down to see him staring up at you with a needy, hungry look in his eyes. you gasp at the feeling, your eyes widening with a nervousness and desperation.

"'s just my finger baby, relax. it wont hurt i promise," he tried to reassure you gently as you nodded.

"feels good... keep going. please."

"yes maam," he smirks up at you before diving back into your slick folds, simultaneously ever-so gently pushing his finger into you beneath his chin.

was it normal to feel so full from just a finger?

holy shit what is it gonna feel like when hes actually inside you??

you tried your best not to think about it to avoid psyching yourself out and just trying to enjoy the feeling. your walls flutter around him and he can feel how close you are already with his finger pumping in and out of you painfully slow as he curls it inside of you.

his face his practically dripping with you when he looks back up at you, "hows it feel mama? talk to me."

your face is scrunched in pleasure as you shake your head quickly, your hands back to gripping the cotton sheets beneath you, "cant," you answer bluntly, out of breath as his finger works your mercilessly. it was the honest truth, the feeling making it hard to think straight, or at all really.

"oh cmon now i believe in you. tell me how good it feels... think you can handle another? youre so close gorgeous, let me help you get there..."

you practically squeal as he presses the second digit into you, the stretch a delicious sting that borders on uncomfortable. but the slickness greatly helps with the discomfort easing it almost instantly as jj keeps his pace consistent, your hips bucking off of the bed as you come apart on his fingers, your juices dripping onto his palm.

"holy shit mama that was so fucking hot... youre so tight," he presses small gentle kisses down your thighs as he talks you through your first orgasm. his forehead resting on your hip as he gathers himself.

it feels like the lack of oxygen has made you dizzy and oddly relaxed from feeling so breathless.

jj maybank just made you come.

jj maybank just gave you your first orgasm.

oh lord am i gonna have to ask for your forgiveness until the day i die. i might die right here right now.

"pretty mama i need you to say something... kinda scaring me," you lift your head off of the pillows to look down where he lays on you, his fingers lightly tracing patterns across your stomach.

"sorry," you run a hand over your face taking a deep breath, "just kind of... i dont know. calming down."

god even his laugh made you quiver.

"we can take a break if you need it- do you want me to grab you a water or someth-" you quickly shut him up by leaning down to kiss him

"i wanna keep going.. jj that was... eye rolling, moan eliciting, mind boggling-ly good. im okay i promise."

"youre killing me here baby-" he looked up at you as his hands roamed your body slowly and aimlessly. feeling comfortable in such a vulnerable state with her. "are you sure?"

you lean to the side diving into the drawer next to his bed where you figured hed have a condom lying around, you guessed correctly.

"stop asking me that, i know youre trying to be sweet but i already told you i want this. im not changing my mind. im not on birth control for obvious reason but-"

a groan from his lips interrupts you, the sound more like a struggled, suppressed moan. his head falling into the crook of your neck. looks like someone has a breeding kink. shouldve guessed it by that nickname.

"ill do whatever you want mama but youre literally naked holding my condom in your hand. im losing self control quickly."

you giggled softly, "youre okay with just the condom?"

"im okay with or without it. god, ill be perfect as long as im inside you."

it was your turn to moan this time as he takes the foil from you, ripping it open between his stupidly cute canine teeth, grinning from ear to ear as he rolls it on almost effortlessly.

watching him you realize it was the first time you could really drink in the sight of him... and how big he was.

"jj- i dont think-" you go to protest before he kisses you softly. so fucking soft for you in every way except for one.

"we'll make it fit," thats the only thing he says before he positions his body to loom over you, your hips meeting each other. his eyes light up and he reaches behind you grabbing an extra pillow. "lift your hips for me baby... good girl."

he adjusts the pillow under your hips comfortably, his hands gripping your hips to lower you then running down your legs to wrap them around his hips.

"i read somewhere that makes it better- for you. i dont know im not a chick. does it feel okay? are you okay?"

you could melt from his words, jj wasnt always great with telling people how he felt but he does one better. he shows them, shows you. always thinking of you and your wellbeing.

"its perfect jay, thank you," you smile up softly at him, "youre perfect."

the blond blushed at your words, placing one hand next to your head so he leans over you to whisper in your ear, probably to also hide how flustered that made him.

"ill go slow i promise... its gonna hurt a little but ill stop when you need me to. and if you wanna stop all together thats okay. youre in control baby. 'm at your mercy."

your hand reaches for stability, finding it tugging at the roots of his blond mop as his hand reaches between the both of you to align him at your entrance. the folds still slick from just moments ago.

hes pressing soft wet kisses to your neck, moving his hips forward just the smallest bit so his tip barely pierces your hole. you suck in sharply as you feel him, feel the pressure, the sting.

your gasp must have scared him, he lifts himself from you to look down at you with concern.

"you okay mama?"

all you can do is nod in response trying to keep your breathing steady. frankly, you didnt think youd be this tight. obviously hes not the size of your ultra big tampons but still. you were a bit naive.

"just let me know if you need me to stop... but you gotta relax or it wont fit. trust me, ill go easy on you but you gotta breathe babe. let yourself relax... im right here."

you nodded again, maybe it was lame but you were so focused on how he felt against you, you could barely speak.

taking another deep breathe you urge his hips forward with your ankles wrapped around them, and the sting intensifies as his tip finally goes inside of you, and you were already clenching around him.

hard enough that his arms wobbled for a slight second.

"shit mama, youre so fucking tight," he sighs in ecstasy, "jesus- stop clenching around me or ill blow like a two pump chump."

that got a chuckle out of you, even though he was completely serious. the sting goes away slowly, and you press kisses down his neck to calm yourself. you wanted your lips on every inch of his body.

"keep going," you begged, your voice abnormally high and breathy.

"there you go baby, made it through the hardest part. see? its not so bad... im right here baby."

he moves his hips forward again, and you felt another inch push into you. god how did you already feel so full?

and then another inch. and another.

how fucking big is he?

"jesus jj- so full... 's too much-" you whine, your hands clinging onto his shoulders, your polished nails pressing into his skin.

"need me to stop?"

you thought for a moment before shaking your head, "no.. need more. feels so good."

and with that he pushed himself all the way to hilt, fully pressed inside your sopping wet cunt. you moan loudly, forgetting john b is just down the hall in the living room.

jj presses his lips to yours, capturing them so your tongues meet in the middle, making every thought poof from your head. youve dreamed of this moment so many times and you know youre lucky that the first time feels just as good as the fantasy, if not better.

"move, jay i need you to move... please for the love god move your hips."

he moaned into your ear before pulling back and push back into you, again and again, setting a steady pace that was safe for the both of you. safe for you because he didnt want to hurt you, and safe for him because he didnt want to come in the next two minutes.

with your head thrown back on the bed, jj begins pressing kisses across your jaw, down your neck, focusing on the sweet spots he found before. making his way down to your collar bone, your chest rising and falling drastically as he continues to pump in and out of your swollen pussy.

and finally he makes it to your breasts, beautiful and full and ready for some attention, hips lips latch around one nipple while his free hand rolls the other between his fingers teasingly.

"so fucking perfect, so fucking mine," he grumbled against your chest before switching places. he pulls off of you with a pop, a sudden idea popping into his head.

his hips fastening their pace as he looks down at the ring on your finger, before taking your hand in his, and pulling that purity ring off.

your eyes widen as you watch him carefully, watching to see what he will do as he inspects it. or at least trying to as his hips slam into yours.

he takes his necklace off, and hooking the ring onto the string before tying it back onto his neck and leaning forward back the way he was. hovering over you, and now your purity ring, thats no longer needed, dangles in front of you like a taunt.

"dont need that," he whispers in your ear quickening his pace as he feels you clenching around him, so fucking wet for him you can hear the pornographic sounds of wet skin slapping against each other. only adding fuel to your fire, "wear it so everyone knows who you fucking belong to. youre mine, y/n. say it."

oh god.

"yours," you can barely speak without moaning, "yours jay."

he slips a hand between you, his thumb working your clit perfectly as he pounds into you pushing you to the edge of another orgasm.

"yea. youre mine? coming around my cock baby, youre squeezin me to death, you gonna cover me in your cum? yea?"

you squeal at the feeling, his words, everything, this is so perfectly overwhelming. you moan, almost scream, coming again just like he said.

and hes not far behind you, driving into you before you feel him twitch inside of you, spilling into the condom shuddering around you, trying not to collapse on you.

"holy-"

"shit," you chuckle finishing his though as another ripple passes through his muscles, he pulls out and you instantly feel empty, squeezing to find something that isnt there anymore.

he lays next to you with a very satisfied smile on his face.

more like a smirk really.

"ill be damned," you smile deliriously, turning to look at him, "jj that was... i couldnt have had a better first experience. seriously..."

"glad you enjoyed it mama," he wraps an arm around you pulling him into a chest as he starts to breathe normally, his heartbeat still racing though. "you okay?"

"im perfect jay... i loved it."

"well id be happy to be of service whenever youd like-" he teases.

you slap at his chest playfully, moving to wrap a leg around his before realizing how sore you were. and soaked. he sits up almost immediately seeing your hesitation.

"let me get something to clean you up..." he grabs his boxers pulling them back on to grab a warm wet cloth from the bathroom, crouching to clean you carefully and gently.

girls at school werent lying, aftercare was arguably the best part.

he treated you with such care and so much love that it didnt matter whatever anxiety you carried from what just transpired, you were happy you did it. even if it was with your best friend.

[rwshfordgirl]

Heyyy, just so you know, I adore you and everything you write, I’m serious!!! And the best part is that you’re Brazilian ❤️❤️❤️

Could you write something for Jude where the reader kind of rejects him at first because he’s not her type, based on the way he dresses and all that, but then she sees him in the team uniform and totally changes her mind? (I just thought of this because I saw some pics of Jude in a kinda funny outfit that’s really not my type, but I still think he’s super hot lol).

Sorry if this is a bit vague or confusing.

I thought a lot about whether to write in Portuguese or English hahaha.

NOT MY TYPE

all the images were taken from pinterest.

pairing: jude bellingham x reader!

a/n: i remember seeing a post of yours in portuguese right after i followed you talking about sabrina, i thought and i was like "omg she speaks my language." 😭😭 mas você é brasileira também? fiquei na dúvida! e pode falar comigo em qualquer idioma, é bom falar em português aqui, as vezes minha indignação parece fazer mais sentido hahah 🗣

and talking about jude bellingham, his worst outfit is always the next one 😭 lucky for him he plays well and has a pretty face

anyway, hope you like it ;) obrigada pelo carinho, diva

requests are open | check here my masterlist

You had no idea Laila knew so many people, it was like she had reserved an entire floor of the restaurant just for the guests. But the atmosphere was incredible, lots of laughter, loud conversation and the sound of background music playing very softly. You and your friends talked and laughed for nothing.

But you felt someone looking at you, which made you turn your face over and over again, without being able to identify who was watching you.

Laila knows many well-known English players, she always watched her brother's games when he tried to pursue a football career. One of those players is here today, Jude Bellingham, sitting a few feet away from you, chatting with some friends and looking at you whenever he can.

He had already seen you in photos that Laila posts on Instagram, catching his attention. But seeing you in person took him by surprise, you were even more beautiful.

"Laila, come here please." He called the birthday girl. "Who is she?" He asked Laila as soon as she approached him. Jude didn't point at you, he just turned his gaze in your direction.

"Oh, she's my friend and we're neighbors." Laila looked at him suspiciously. "Why? Are you interested?"

"Perhaps."

"I'll see what I can do for you."

You watched as Laila walked away from Jude with a small smile and walked towards you. "What?" you mumbled when you saw her looking at you.

"Remember I told you once that I have a friend who plays football in Madrid?" She said unceremoniously as she sat down in the empty chair next to you.

You nodded. Laila and her boyfriend go to Madrid all the time just to watch him play.

"You talk about him all the time, impossible to forget."

Laila laughed and turned her face towards Jude who was watching the conversation apprehensively, completely oblivious to the chatter of his friends around him. You ended up following the girl's gaze and saw Jude turning his face away when he saw your gaze on him.

"Is that him?" You questioned.

"Yes, himself. Jude Bellingham."

"Hmm, and why did you bring up this topic out of nowhere?"

Laila bit her lips.

"You're my friend, he's my friend, you're single and so is he... I thought it would be a good idea to get you two together and Jude said he was interested in you."

You laughed.

"Sorry Laila, that's not going to happen. He's not my type."

Laila's eyes widened.

"I think you should get out of your comfort zone. Jude is a nice guy, you should see the way the girls in Madrid talk about him."

"Another topic for my list of cons, I can't imagine myself with someone so coveted like that. And he's very handsome, but he has a very different style of clothes, definitely not my type.

Laila nodded and laughed lightly at your comment.

"He really dresses badly, but he's a nice guy." you smiled "But that's okay, maybe another time."

Your eyes followed Laila again, she took the information to Jude, who in turn, seemed upset when he heard from his friend that you're not interested. He was teased by his friends and exchanged glances with you for the last time. Something that made Jude not want to give up on you so easily.

1 week later

"Hey, where are you?" You called Laila as soon as you left the hotel you were staying at.

You arrived in Madrid two days ago for academic purposes, the college always organizes trips to other places and you always go along when you can.

Laila was already here before you arrived, as usual, she and her boyfriend came to see Jude Bellingham.

"We're going to Wanda Metropolitano, you should come too. I told Jude you were in town and he got me an extra ticket in case you wanted to come."

You processed the information slowly. Going to Jude's game after having dumped him didn't seem like a good idea to you. However, you got the impression that he wouldn't mind your presence there, since according to Laila, he had made a ticket available just for you.

"Okay, just explain to me how I can get there."

Laila explained to you which subway line to take to get to the stadium. The journey there takes an hour according to Google, but you were willing to face that time inside a carriage.

It's a new and unique experience, you're used to second and third division English league games. Watching a Champions League game in Madrid sounds pretty exciting to you. Even if you still think it wouldn't be a good idea to go because of the situation with Jude.

The minutes inside the subway passed quickly. The surroundings of the stadium were crowded as expected. Laila had arranged to meet you at the entrance reserved for guests and so she did.

"Oh, so glad you came. I wish this game was in Santiago so you could see what it's really like."

She said as she hugged you.

"I have to thank Jude for the invitation, I didn't expect that from him. I thought he was upset about what happened on his birthday."

"It was no big deal, Jude is a nice guy and doesn't care much about that stuff."

You nodded

"Come on, we have to register you so you can stay there with us."

Your friend grabbed your arm and led you to the guest registration area. You received a personalized badge and took a photo to send to your parents.

"You're going to love it."

Laila guided you to the space where she was with the other friends from Bellingham, because it wasn't at Bernabeu, they wouldn't have the right to a box. But, they were right behind the Merengues' bench.

The atmosphere inside the stadium was insane, you felt a different emotion. Everything looked amazing, including Jude Bellingham on the big screen.

"What?" You said to yourself.

Real Madrid were warming up on the pitch and Jude was in his pre-match uniform. Something that made your heart beat faster, Jude was more handsome than the first time you had seen him. There was nothing different about his face, nothing. Just a Real Madrid uniform that enhanced the beauty of the English player.

"Is this the same Jude from your party?" Você perguntou a Laila.

"Himself. Why?"

You looked at her and smiled embarrassedly.

"I think I've changed my mind about him not being my type, I'm going to make him wear that uniform every day."

"You're crazy, but lucky you he didn't forget you." Laila chuckled subtly, "Pray for Real Madrid to win today, I'll talk to him after the game." She blinked.

Your eyes weren't focused on anyone else but Bellingham. When the match started and the pre-match uniform was replaced by the white game shirt, your heart beat faster. Which made you bitterly regret having said that he wasn't your type because of an ugly outfit he wore. You could watch him play all day.

Seeing Jude and watching such an electrifying match got you excited. You were looking forward to talking to Jude.

You two only saw each other in the stadium parking lot hours after the game.

"I'm glad you came." He came up behind you right after he had spoken to his friends.

"Thanks so much for the ticket, Jude! It was a great game, by the way."

He smiled at me.

"Are you doing anything later?" He scratched his head "Laila said you changed your mind."

You were embarrassed, but Jude didn't seem to care.

"Sorry about that." You almost whispered.

"Relax, it happens! Let's start from the beginning."

You smiled at him.

"Take advantage and take him to buy new clothes." Laila passed by you.

[sunshades]

sorry #posting again but it's been on my mind cuz i once again saw a post and i just. really really hate the way this bit is so often taken out of context to make her out to be dismissing and belittling him just cuz she felt like it, because a lot of the story does hinge on the fact that this was in fact a reasonable worry

heathcliff of course has reasons to take it personally, but the context of the entire canto tells you why this was a problem to begin with. we also see it during the rest of the game, cuz he mellows out as the cantos go, but we can't forget at the start he was out there killing his coworkers. then in canto vi we get more about it. nelly starts here jokingly:

but by the end she's very serious about it:

the cycles of abuse is ofc one of the main themes in the canto, like in the book where heathcliff assumes for the second generation the role of their own hindley; in game he's growing both in the shadows of hindley and of his other mirror selves. but it can't really be ignored that the problem WAS there and he was shaping up to be just like them (a person used to violence to the point even someone as close to him as the woman who raised him had reason to believe he might hurt her!) and that catherine is discussing it in the hopes of figuring out a way to give him a place to heal and grow out of that absolute hell that was growing up in the heights. it just feels really weird to always discuss that part as if catherine was being cruel for no reason, when heathcliff himself admits that he left because he feared he'd murder her

instead by the time of the canto, while hindley, linton and nelly all comment on him not having changed, he continously chooses to be the better man, avoiding unnecessary fighting, lending a hand to people in danger, and ofc standing strong against the erlking's provocations and attempt to turn our heathcliff into another just like him, to continue the same cycle.

BUT it's important that back then he was a person who wouldn't have done that, a person who would have hurt his loved ones, and that what he had in mind was taking revenge on them- because he grew past that in the course of the story, then that character development is much more meaningful. and that's also why it's so important to all the people around him, who had seen him start to go down that same path as hindley, to become the worst version of himself--

because in the end he didn't become like that! he did change and become that better person, and they noticed!

[semisasseater]

STUPID MOVE

pretty girl.

SUMMARY ‘ trying to escape was a stupid move.

𓊆 黑星 𓊇 x gn!reader 㞫⠀⠀ ִ ⠀ 2,008 obsession stalking kidnapping abuse forced captivity threats emotional manipulation violence yandere themes — 类型 dark romance psychological thriller horror yandere

✴︎ LIBRARY ✴︎ part 1 part 2

‧˚⠀⠀ 🤍⠀⠀ ɞ 作者注 : posting another fic then leaving again.

Two Weeks Later

The air outside the basement felt suffocating.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you were no longer trapped underground, no longer bound by ropes in a damp, dark room. Heeseung had finally deemed you “ready” to leave the basement. But only under his watchful eyes.

You thought it would feel like freedom.

It didn’t.

Your body felt dirty, your skin sticky, your hair tangled from weeks of being confined in that cold, miserable space. You wanted nothing more than to scrub yourself clean, to feel human again.

“…Can I take a shower?” Your voice was hoarse, quiet, barely masking the disgust curling in your stomach as Heeseung gazed at you with those infatuated eyes.

His entire face lit up at your request, as if you’d just told him you loved him. “Of course, darling!” He practically beamed, rushing to guide you to the bathroom. “I bought you some clothes that I think would look beautiful on you.”

You swallowed the bile in your throat as he handed you a neatly folded outfit. The way he looked at you made your skin crawl—so lovesick, so hopeful.

You forced a nod, biting down your revulsion. “Thanks…”

The second you shut the bathroom door, you exhaled shakily.

The mirror reflected a hollowed-out version of yourself—pale, tired, a ghost of the person you once were. You ignored your reflection, stripped down, and stepped into the steaming shower.

Water cascaded down your skin, washing away weeks of filth, but not the sickening feeling of Heeseung’s eyes on you. You scrubbed harder, rubbing your skin raw, as if you could erase his touch from your soul.

And then you saw it.

The window.

Open.

Your heart pounded violently against your ribs as you turned off the water, wrapping the towel around you. You had no plan, no idea where you were, but it didn’t matter. This was your chance.

You climbed onto the sink, reaching up to hoist yourself through the window. Just a little more—just a little higher—

The bathroom door swung open.

“Love, are you—”

Silence.

Dread flooded your veins as you turned, meeting Heeseung’s darkening eyes. His entire body stiffened, his expression unreadable.

You moved faster, scrambling to push yourself through, but before you could, a pair of hands grabbed your ankles and yanked you down.

You crashed onto the cold, hard floor with a sickening thud.

“N-No…” you whimpered, crawling backward as Heeseung loomed over you.

His expression twisted into something monstrous. His jaw clenched, his hands trembled—but not in sadness. In fury.

“What. The. Fuck. Were. You. Thinking?” His voice was eerily calm, his head tilted slightly.

Your lips trembled. “H-Heeseung please—”

The first blow struck your face before you could finish. Then another. Then another.

Pain exploded across your body—punches, kicks, hair yanked so hard your scalp burned. You screamed, sobbed, pleaded, but it didn’t stop. The world blurred, your mind slipping in and out of consciousness.

Then, finally, it stopped.

Your body felt weightless, your ears ringing. Through half-lidded eyes, you saw Heeseung’s heaving chest, his wide, trembling eyes staring down at your battered form. His hands shook—blood on his knuckles. Your blood.

“…Shit” he whispered.

Then, gently—so, so gently—he cradled your broken body in his arms.

“I’m sorry” he murmured, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, your bruised cheek. “I didn’t mean to hurt you so much… I just… I just got scared baby. You can’t do that. You can’t leave me.”

His voice wavered, desperate, trembling with something between guilt and obsession. His fingers brushed your blood-matted hair away from your face as if he hadn’t just beaten you unconscious.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry, to claw at him, to do anything—but your body wouldn’t move. Everything ached.

Heeseung lifted you carefully, carrying you like something fragile. His breath was shaky, his heartbeat erratic against your skin.

“I’ll fix this” he whispered, more to himself than to you.

You faded in and out of consciousness, barely registering the feeling of soft sheets beneath you. The scent of Heeseung’s cologne clung to them, suffocating you.

You weren’t in the basement anymore.

You were in his bed.

—

When you woke again, everything hurt. Your arms, your ribs, your face—every part of you screamed in pain. Bandages covered your skin, the faint smell of antiseptic in the air.

And then you felt it.

The weight of an arm draped over your waist. A body pressed against yours. Warm breath against your neck.

You stiffened.

Slowly, you turned your head, your pulse hammering violently in your chest.

Heeseung.

Asleep, curled around you like a child clinging to his favorite stuffed animal. His grip was loose but firm enough to remind you that you weren’t going anywhere.

Your stomach twisted. You wanted to shove him away, to rip yourself from his grasp. But you were weak, exhausted, and the fresh bruises decorating your skin told you what would happen if you tried again.

Tears welled in your eyes. What were you going to do?

Then—movement.

A soft hum vibrated against your shoulder. Heeseung stirred, his grip tightening, his nose nuzzling into your neck as he let out a content sigh.

“You’re awake” he murmured sleepily. His voice was thick with drowsiness, but when he opened his eyes, they glowed with something far more alert—something possessive.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to stay still. “Y-Yeah…”

A smile stretched across his lips, and for a second, he looked normal. Just a boy waking up next to the love of his life.

But this wasn’t love.

Love wasn’t this.

“I was so worried” he whispered, his fingers brushing against the bruises he had left. His smile faltered, something dark flickering in his gaze. “I got angry… I didn’t mean to hurt you so much, love. But you scared me.”

You stayed silent, your fingers trembling against the sheets.

Heeseung’s expression softened. “You understand, don’t you? I had to do it. You made me do it.”

A lump formed in your throat.

He shifted, hovering over you, his face inches from yours. “You won’t do that again right?”

It wasn’t a question. It was a threat.

You forced yourself to nod. “I… I won’t.”

His face lit up, a wide, lovesick grin spreading across his lips. “That’s my good girl.” He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead.

Your stomach churned.

He pulled you close again, his arms wrapping around you like chains. “I’ll take care of you, baby. I’ll make everything perfect for us. You’ll see.”

His voice was dreamy, filled with devotion.

You stared at the ceiling, your heart pounding with one single thought.

You had to get out.

Before it was too late.

@semisasseater

[khaoala]

Lore request number 1847389291 (sorry I've been asking so much lmao new som som trying my best to catch up) what happened at firsts graduation I saw that hug and that kt almost didn't go but no details help? Pls?

anon, first of all, feel free to send fk lore questions whenever you like. i'll try to give as much context as i can, and people also add things in, and it's a blast, i love when these come in.

second of all, i'm so very glad you're making me talk about first's graduation. it's probably one of my favorite firstkhao moments.

first's graduation (he has a bachelor's degree in cyber business management and graduated with honors, he's that guy) happened on december 15, 2021, so two weeks after the announcement of the eclipse during gmmtv 2022. this event is what we (or at least i do) like to call "the event that inspired the plot of our skyy 2 x the eclipse" because it's basically what happened 😏😏

as you can imagine, graduating is a very important moment and in thailand they do this thing a lot of holding fan gatherings when an artist graduates and many of their friends come to congratulate them too (like when earth, firstkhao and arm went to mix's graduation last year).

first had a lot people over to see him. besides his family members, ofc, first's favorite bruda (tay tawan) attended, gawin, ciize, louis, love, nanon and many many others.

but khaotung, being the rascal that he is, told first that something came up and that he wouldn't be able to attend first's graduation which made first properly sulky. i'm not even kidding. they were all using masks ofc because 2021, covid, all that shit, but we know mr. kanaphan to have amazingly expressive eyes and baby boy looked so sad and pouty because his best friend said he wouldn't attend (tumblr doesn't let me post more than one video, but i'll link you to the videos and the graduation tag so you can check out his contained tantrum in the end of this post).

at some point when ciize (who is the founder of this fandom, may i add, since when they were just a ghostship, she was already in the trenches) approached first, and he was talking in the phone with khaotung and first offered her the phone and she asked "what did you do to make him so angry, khaotung?!"

ofc khaotung was just joking and ofc he wouldn't miss his best friend's graduation. he showed up and i kid you not, it was like first's sunny disposition came back to him in a blink. ofc, he was still annoyed bc khaotung fooled him and there were many instances where it looked like he was going to hit khaotung, but khaotung knows his baby bestie and stayed by his side all the time. there were a few moments when first would be talking to other people but his hand would stay around khaotung (there's one particular video of them talking to what i believe is one of the staff, and while first's eyes are on them, he keeps caressing khaotung's back absentmindedly because the next thing we assume happens is that first scolded khaotung - again - for pranking him).

khaotung was having a blast that day playing around with first. and first was also trying to look nonchalant at some point which was so adorable. you know how in the end of our skyy 2, after ayan's surprise to akk and how he says, "i told you i loved seeing you get pranked. when you make an angry face, you look so… (cute)". that is firstkhaotung during first's graduation.

you can search the tag #FirstkpGraduation on twitter where you'll find many more videos and pictures and here's the links to some of my favorite videos since i can't post them here:

[ link one ] [ link two ] [ link three ] [ link four ] [ link five ] [ link six ]

[berryispunk]

Just For Now

pairing: Frankie Morales x gn! reader

tags: mental health struggles, fluff, comfort, dark humor, soft! Frankie, bestfriend! Frankie, no physical description of reader, unrequited love (kind of)

notes: Written on a particularly bad day, so be aware of some triggering topics. Big hug to anyone who gets the feeling. 🫂 Moodboard only for vibes. Kinda inspired by this post I made a few days ago.

word count: 1,3 k

Two rings. Two rings is all it takes for him to pick up. It’s late at night, and every normal person is sleeping.

Should be sleeping.

But you can’t. It feels suffocating.

“Hello?” The voice on the other end comes through—warm, familiar, steady. Him.

“Hey, sorry. I woke you up, didn’t I?”

“It’s alright,” he assures you, like he always does.

A beat of silence between you while the storm in your head is raging. Screaming at you.

It’s getting harder to breathe.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice nothing more than a gravelly rumble in the night.

You contemplate lying, to downplay it. To convince him just as much as you convince yourself over and over again that it’s gonna be okay. Has to be okay.

But you’re too tired to pretend, so you answer, “No.”

“What’s wrong?”

You scoff bitterly.

“I am,” you say. “I am wrong. I am a failure.”

“You are not a failure. You’re a fighter.”

You know he means it, and is so sincere in his words. You can almost picture his worried eyes on you.

“I am tired of fighting,” your voice choked with all the pain. The pain you carried for years, always lingering just around the corner, even when it hurts less for a while. 

“I know. What do you need?”

You. Screams the voice in your head.

But you can’t bring yourself to say it out loud, to bring this new truth into this world.

He doesn’t deserve to be dragged into your abyss.

“A gun? Pills maybe,” you joke. It’s your attempt at humor.

“Not funny,” he says, a hint of warning in his voice—or maybe worry.

“Do you want me to come over?” he probes.

Yes. “No, it’s late. Don’t bother yourself.”

“It’s not bothering me at all, you know that. I’m only 10 minutes away.”

“10 minutes? I thought you were out of the city for work?”

“I came back this evening.”

You nod, even if he can’t see you.

You wanna tell him everything. How dark it is in your head, how you can barely breathe, and how much harder it is every time he’s gone. But you can’t.

“You won’t believe what happened to me on the flight back here…” he starts, telling you about this woman and her baby next to him on the flight. The infant cried the whole time until the woman had to use the bathroom and left the baby alone with him. The child stopped as soon as it sat on his lap. Your lips twitch into the faintest smile.

“You just have a way with children, Frankie. They love you.”

He chuckles on the other end, probably rubbing his neck sheepishly like he always does when he’s affected by something.

“Maybe I should switch careers to something involving children then. Being a pilot seems easy compared to being surrounded by crying kids all day, right?”

“They wouldn’t be crying if you’re around.”

“Maybe…”

And there it is, quietly creeping in, making its presence felt without much warning. It pushes away the dark clouds, or at least lets some light shine through. Like the sun breaking through after a day of rain. Somewhere between your troubled, chaotic thoughts and him recounting the flight, something shifted. It felt as if a weight had been lifted.

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Wanted to meet with the boys over at Will’s house. BBQ night. He bought this new grill and wants to brag a bit, I guess,” he snickers.

You shake your head.

“You think I can…?”

“Can what?”

“Join you guys? Only if—if it’s okay. I know I wasn’t invited.”

“I’m sure the boys would love to have you around. It’s been a while since they last saw you. Consider yourself invited now.”

You smile faintly, but it’s a real one this time.

“Maybe I can make a salad? Or bake something? Maybe some muffins.”

“Muffins sound fantastic.”

The darkness hasn’t disappeared; it still hovers, ready to catch up with you. But for now, it feels distant, as if it's miles away

“Chocolate or peanut butter?”

“Is that even a question? Chocolate,” he laughs. The sound ignites a warm feeling sparking in your chest, and you’re finally able to take a deep breath.

“Chocolate it is then,” you retort.

Silence. Comfortable silence, followed by a yawn.

“I pick you up at 6, okay?”

“Mhm-hm,” you hum agreeably. “Should I shoot Will a text, letting him know I’m gonna be your plus one?”

“Nah, I’m gonna do it. You have to worry about nothing. Apart from the baking. See it as your ticket to get in.”

You snort in response. “Alright.”

“So, now that I am wide awake thanks to you, can I at least come over? I think that’s only fair.”

“I already said I am sorry,” you object.

“And I already said it’s okay. But I still would like to come, if that’s okay with you.”

You pause for a moment to collect your thoughts. If he were to come over, he’d see the mess of your apartment—and more importantly, the mess you’re in. Yet, all you want is for him to be there with you, pressing your face against his chest, his scent enveloping you like a cocoon. His warmth would seep into every crack in your soul, and his presence would ground you in a way nothing else in this world ever could.

“Okay,” you ultimately say before you can change your mind.

“Okay?” he asks back, slightly in disbelief that you gave in so easily, because that’s not what you usually do.

“Yeah, okay. You better hurry up or I’m gonna change my mind,” you insist.

“Already on my way,” followed by ruffling sounds and a silent Spanish curse. 

“Give me 10 minutes.”

And the line goes dead.

Exactly 11 minutes later there’s a knock on the door, and you open it slowly, stepping aside to let him in.

He’s wearing the same grey sweatpants you’ve seen on him countless times, worn down and definitely loved. Little bobbles all over the fabric. And the cap, the same damn standard oil cap that’s basically glued to his head at this point. His mop of hair under it peeks out on all sides.

“You know, Morales, I guess your head must have taken on the form of this hat by now. Do you ever not wear this thing?” you cross your arms in front of your chest.

His answer is a wide, boyish grin. The kind of grin that always makes your stomach do somersaults. So contagious, you smile yourself.

“Yes, for sleeping and showering,” he answers, the same grin still plastered all over his handsome face.

You roll your eyes.

This is easy, you think. Way too easy given how you felt just minutes ago. 

What if it comes crashing down on you again as soon as he leaves?

You frown a little as he takes a quick look around, expecting him to make a comment about the chaos. But instead, his gaze falls back to you, and he takes a step closer.

One, two, and he stands right in front of you. Your heart hammering in your chest as he looks down, his warm brown eyes unreadable.

Without a single spoken word, he opens his arms and pulls you into a tight hug, your cheek pressed against his hard chest and his chin resting on your head.

This, this right here. This is it.

You wrap your arms around his midsection, holding on tightly. Taking a deep breath, letting him fill all your senses, and just for a fragment, everything seems less heavy.

His words are muffled against your hair as he says, “I am here for you. Always. No matter what you need, okay?”

You have to bite your lips real hard to hold back a sob that threatens to slip out just at the pure conviction in his voice.

You’re only able to nod against his chest, which causes him to tighten his arms around you, a fleeting kiss on your hair.

You close your eyes, allowing yourself to believe, if only in this moment and in the safety of his arms, that things will be okay.

my masterlist

most recent post

[simandy]

Update: the only downside is that it assumes you're an usian, so i tried to play a game inside the app and it kept humiliating me for not knowing where the white house was?? Buddy... if usians think Brazil is the entire amazonian rainforest and that it is located either in the African continent or Europe, then what makes you think I know (or that i would make a minimal effort to know) where the white house is? You behave yourself and thank God I can speak your language. Because I've learned it against my will <3

I used weather.com for years, but they recently changed from allowing me to opt out of selling my data, to trying to trick me into agreeing to sell my data everytime I used it, to acting like they saved my decision to opt out, but really switching it back to giving them permission.

The article also includes weather site that don't sell data to third parties.

[slvtfornegan]

“That another way of yours to thank me?”

Warnings: smut, a small fight, swearing, (s10 Negan)

Notes: idk how i feel about this one, it’s kinda rushed, i js wanted to post something. Also i wanted to write Negan more sub but I’ll leave that for another time.

—

The night air was cool against your skin, carrying the scent of damp earth and the faint, lingering smoke from someone’s late-night fire. The ground beneath your feet was uneven, soft from the earlier rain, and the distant hoot of an owl echoed in the trees just beyond Alexandria’s walls. Most of the town was asleep by now, save for a few guards on patrol. You should’ve been in your house too, enjoying some peace and quiet—but Jesse had made that impossible.

You kept your back against the wooden side of a tool shed, listening.

Footsteps. Slow, deliberate.

Damn it.

You had been avoiding him all day. Jesse had taken an interest in you a while ago, and no matter how many times you brushed him off, he just didn’t get it. He followed you around like a lost puppy, flashing that same eager smile, acting like the world hadn’t gone to complete shit. It was exhausting. Annoying.

And tonight? It was flat-out creepy.

He’d seen you leave the main street, and like clockwork, he’d started following you. Again.

You weren’t scared of him—just frustrated, irritated that you even had to hide in the first place. If he’d been some asshole trying to hurt you, that would’ve been simple. But Jesse wasn’t a threat. He was just persistent. Too damn persistent.

You shifted your weight, preparing to move toward the alley that ran behind the houses, when you stepped back—right into something solid.

Someone.

A firm hand caught your shoulder, keeping you from stumbling. Your heart jumped into your throat as you turned sharply, ready to shove whoever it was.

Then you saw him.

Negan.

Even in the dim light, you could see the familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth his eyebrows raised up in his forehead.

A familiar chuckle rumbled against you.

“Shit. Didn’t know I was in the fuckin’ way.”

It had been months since he was let out of that cell, and people still treated him like a caged animal, watching, waiting for him to snap. But you had never really been part of that crowd. Yeah, you knew what he’d done. Hell, everyone did. But he wasn’t just that guy anymore. And you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him, not entirely. There were a glances, a few teasing comments, sometimes a wink from the distance, thrown in your direction that made you smile.

You took a step back, clearing your throat. “Sorry. I didn’t see you.”

“No shit,” he said, raising a brow. “Damn near knocked me on my ass.” His eyes flicked over your shoulder. “You look like you saw a ghost, or somethin’ worse.”

You hesitated, then exhaled through your nose, deciding it wasn’t worth hiding. “Jesse.”

Negan let out a low hum, tilting his head. “The kid with the stupid haircut?”

Despite yourself, a small amused snort escaped.

Negan grinned. “Figured. He’s been sniffin’ around you like a damn bloodhound.”

You groaned, crossing your arms. “Tell me about it.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The distant murmur of crickets filled the silence, and the flickering streetlights cast long shadows across the road.

Negan studied you, eyes sharp despite the lazy grin still lingering on his face. You knew what he was thinking—why the hell were you standing here, talking to him?

You weren’t sure how to answer that.

There were a lot of things about Negan that should’ve made you stay away. The past. The things he’d done. The lives he had taken.

And yet...

He wasn’t all bad.

People liked to paint him as a monster, as if that was all he’d ever been, but you had seen the cracks in that image. The way he’d helped Judith. The way he had stayed, even when he could have run. The way he looked at you now—not as someone beneath him, but as someone worth listening to.

And you’d be damned if you didn’t catch yourself checking him out more than once. He was older than you, yet he looked good. Too damn good you’d say.

But you’d never make a move though. You were too much of a pussy. You were scared about what people would think if they saw you making hearts eyes at Negan. People in Alexandria weren’t the ones to forget easily.

You sighed shaking the thought away. “He won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. It’s pissing me the fuck off.” You saw his expression shift into something more serious. He understood.

You crossed your arms. “If I have to tell him one more time, I swear—”

“There you are.”

The sound of Jesse’s voice made your stomach twist. You turned just in time to see him step out from between two houses, his silhouette cutting against the dim glow of a porchlight. His eyes flicked to Negan, his lips twitching like he wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or amused.

“What’s this?” Jesse asked, stepping closer. “Didn’t know you and him were friends.”

You exhaled through your nose and stepped forward. “Jesse, go home.”

Jesse’s smile didn’t budge. If anything, it got wider, but there was something mean curling at the edges now. “Come on, don’t be like that,” he said, like he was the victim here. “I just wanted to talk. You’ve been dodging me all day.”

“For a reason.” You folded your arms, feeling your patience run out. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

Jesse’s smile thinned. His eyes flickered to Negan, and something in them darkened, like he was sizing up a threat. Which was stupid. Negan wasn’t even doing anything—yet. Just watching carefully.

“You got a problem, old man?” Jesse finally said, turning his full attention on him and moved closer.

Negan lifted a brow, tilting his head slightly. “Old man? Shit, kid, you got a death wish?”

Negan gave him a slow, deliberate once-over. “In the matter of fact i do have a fucking problem. Y’know, I don’t usually waste my time on little pricks with Napoleon complexes, but you’re really pushin’ it. The lady said no, so why don’t you skedaddle?”

Fuck he really didn’t want to cause trouble, he just got out of that freaking cell, but this asshole was asking for it. And to be truthful, Jesse wasn’t the only one sniffing around Y/n. Thought he’d never made a move. He didn’t want to cross that thin line because it could’ve burned him.

Jesse scoffed, puffing out his chest like he actually had something to prove. “Yeah? You’re gonna do something about it?”

“I just might.” Negan drawled lowly

This situation was getting ridiculous. That wouldn’t bring to nothing good, might even get Negan in trouble after.

“You two done measuring who’s balls are bigger? Jesse just go.”

“No no,” he waved his hand in the air dramatically “If gramps wanna prove a point here, let him do it.”

Negan let out a low chuckle shaking his head.

You blinked and It happened.

Negan swung first.

The punch cracked across Jesse’s jaw, snapping his head to the side. He staggered, but he recovered quick, launching himself at Negan with a snarl. The two of them collided hard, boots scraping against the dirt as they grappled. Jesse was younger, maybe even faster, but that didn’t stop Negan anyway.

“No stop it!” You yelled

But none of them morons listened. You watched as he twisted, using Jesse’s own momentum against him, slamming him into the side of the tool shed with a heavy thud. Jesse grunted, throwing a punch that clipped Negan’s jaw his head jerking to the side.

The men were caught in a fight of fists and kicks trying to knock each other on the ground.

You groaned. “Are you two actually serious right now?”

You had to end this before it attracted people’s attention.

You grabbed at Jesse’s shirt pulling him away from Negan and pushed him away, making Jesse stumble a few feet back.

“Stop!” You shoved Negan’s chest, not hard, just enough to make him step back. Negan ran his tongue over the inside of his cheek, tasting the blood on his tongue, a smug look on his face as he looked over Jesse. You stayed at Negan’s side also breathing heavily. “I’m telling you one more time to leave, before I personally will kick your ass.” You hissed

Jesse wiped at his mouth, breathing hard. His eyes burned with anger, but there was something else too—humiliation. He’d lost, and he knew it.

“You really chose to hang around with him?” Jesse spat, glaring between the two of you.

He clenched his fists, jaw tightening like he wanted to say something, but he thought better of it. With one last sharp glare at you, he turned and stalked off, disappearing into the night.

You let out a slow breath, tension draining from your shoulders. “Fucking finally.”

Negan let out a low grunt, rubbing his jaw where Jesse’s punch had landed. “Little shit’s got a mean right hook. Weak as hell, but gotta give him credit for effort.”

You shot him a look. “Oh, yeah? You want me to call him back so you two can go another round?”

Negan smirked. “Nah, sweetheart. ‘Less you’re offerin’ to nurse me back to health.” His brows waggled playfully. “Got a soft touch, do ya?”

You rolled your eyes, but truth be told, he did look like he needed something for that bruised cheek. You sighed. “Come on. Let’s get you some ice before your face swells up.”

Negan blinked, then let out a short laugh. “You serious?”

“Yeah.” You turned, leading the way toward your house. “You helped me out. Least I can do.”

“Well, shit,” he muttered under his breath, following you. “Didn’t expect a goddamn reward.”

You made your way through the quiet streets of Alexandria, the houses standing still and silent under the dim glow of streetlights. Most people were asleep by now, save for the occasional guard patrolling the walls. The air smelled of damp wood and earth, a reminder of the earlier rain. Your footsteps were soft against the dirt path, and Negan walked just behind you, his presence oddly steady.

Your house was on the smaller side, tucked away near the edge of the community. When you stepped up onto the porch and unlocked the door, Negan let out a low whistle. “Nice place.”

You flicked on a lantern, casting a warm glow over the space. It wasn’t much, but it was cozy—worn wooden floors, a couch, with a coffee table, a big book shelf. A few personal touches here and there. It wasn’t one of the biggest houses in Alexandria, but you lived alone so it was enough for you.

He plopped down onto the couch with a satisfied groan, stretching his legs out.

You wrapped some ice in a cloth, shaking your head as you walked back to the living room. Negan was sprawled out on your couch like he owned the damn place, one arm draped over the back, his long legs stretched out. He had that cocky smirk on his lips.

Asshole. He was definitely been staring at your ass.

You sat next to him, tilting his chin with your free hand and pressing the ice pack to his cheek without warning.

“Shit—” he hissed through his teeth. “Be gentle woman, i’m wounded.” He pouted softly in a joking manner and you rolled your eyes.

Carefully, you adjusted the ice, holding it steady against his bruised cheek. You hadn’t even realized how gentle you were being with him—how your fingers weren’t just holding the ice, but brushing lightly against his skin, how you weren’t pulling away even though you probably should’ve.

Your eyes trailed his features from up close. Fuck why did he have to look this good? Those dark eyes, the gray stubble that covered his chiseled jaw and the greying hair. The dimple lines under his beard complimenting his face.

Negan noticed.

His smirk faded slightly, his gaze darkening as it flickered between your eyes and your mouth.

You noticed that. Trying to ignore the heat increasing in your body from his intense gaze you broke the silence “thank you though… it was idiotic, but at least i got rid of Jesse for a while.” You murmured.

“You don’t have to thank me doll. Didn’t know I was gettin’ a reward, though. Gotta say… I like this part.” His voice dipped lower, rich with something you didn’t want to put a name to.

You swallowed, but didn’t pull away.

His smirk deepened, but his expression wasn’t just cocky—it was searching, reading between the lines. He always did that, looking at people like he could see right through them. And right now? He was seeing through you.

“You’re real fuckin’ soft for me, huh?” he murmured, tilting his head just slightly.

What were you supposed to say? Your eyes found his and for a moment you froze.

Negan’s smirk disappeared entirely, his lips parting slightly. He didn’t pull away—didn’t tease, didn’t throw out another crude joke. He just sat there, waiting, letting you make the choice.

And hell, you made it.

Your lips met his, slow at first—uncertain. But Negan? He wasn’t the uncertain type.

A low sound rumbled from his chest, and suddenly his hand was at the back of your neck, pulling you in like he’d been waiting for this just as much as you had. His lips moved against yours, rough but deliberate, like he wanted to take his time.

And you? You melted into it, the ice in your hands long forgotten and dropped on the floor, your hands moving to cup his face.

He pulled away after a moment looking at you through hooded eyes “That another way of yours to thank me?” His tone was huskier than usual .

“Can you just shut the hell up for a moment?” You asked breathlessly

He smirked “ yes ma’am.” He murmured before his lips claimed yours again.

Your fingers curled into his navy blue shirt, pulling him closer without even realizing it. The heat of his body was solid against yours, his scruff scratching your skin making a pleasant tingly feeling, as his lips moved against yours, slow but sure, deepening the kiss just enough to make your stomach flip.

You leaned in, your hand moved to his hair, and the other one slid down his body. Negan made a low noise in his throat, and the hand on your neck slid down to your waist, fingers pressing against your hip dragging you onto his lap.

You obliged, straddling him, the room feeling with your soft sighs and the most delicious wet nosies of your lips moving against each others.

You could feel him reacting to your touch, his erection pressing against your ass and you couldn’t help but grind against him trying to cause at least some friction.

The motion made him whimper in your mouth, as he broke the kiss to look at your face, his pupils blown with lust, his brows furrowed, all panting and wanting, aching with need.

The look on his face made you moan, a low breathless sound. And the sound made him twitch under you. Your lips nipped gently at his neck, kissing up his throat, making his head fall back with a low groan escaping from his lips.

His hands rested on your thighs gripping harder than before as he spoke his voice low and rough “You’re making it real hard to behave myself here, doll..” in a swift motion he was on top of you, his lips attached to your your skin, as you both tried to get rid of your clothes.

He was more eager than he intended, but years being locked up and now having such a pretty thing underneath him, acting so needy for him, was driving him mad.

Your shirt was now on the floor so was his. Swiftly he undid the zipper of your jeans and pulled them aside leaving you only in your underwear. He ran his hands ran up you legs, feeling the smoothness of your skin. His touch gentle making goosebumps raise all over your body.

“Fuck look at you…” he breathed out, taking you in, laid down beneath him “so fucking beautiful..”

You had a moment to admire him too, his tattoo covered skin, chest arms, the slim yet muscular body, the v line with a happy trail that leaded right in his boxers, before he dipped his head down his lips attaching to your neck again, his beard scraping your soft skin.

His hands moved up your inner thighs, his touch making you tremble slightly under him, your hips bucking up involuntarily. He pushed your panties aside His eyes gazed over the curves of your form, your glistening cunt ready for him. his fingers finding your slick folds and he moaned lowly at the wetness between your legs.

“So wet f’me.” his fingers traced along the delicate skin of your pussy, collecting the slick on his thick, your back arching your hips pushing up to press against his calloused fingers- then bringing them up to his mouth to taste your arousal with a satisfied hum.

“Negan…” you panted “don’t tease.”

“Patience is a fucking virtue.” He teased before with one hand he reached down in his boxers freeing his hard cock, the tip pressing against your entrance making both of you moan.

“Yeah and you’re so fucking vice. Just fuck me already!” You hissed nudging your heel against his ass. But you knew he wanted to tease you more. He chuckled lowly but let out a low curse as you grabbed his shoulders and switched the position, pushing him down onto the couch, making him grunt in surprise his back hitting the cushions.

“Bossy are we?” He teased.

Slowly, you began to sink down onto him, your slick folds parting around his thick shaft. You gasped softly at the stretch, your inner walls clenching and fluttering around his length.

“Fuck..” he sighed as he heard the sweet sounds of your voice, his hips moving in a steady peace giving you time to adjust.

You followed that rhythm, gradually increasing your pace but never bouncing up and down on him. You wanted him to relish in each movement as you rode him, wanted to hear his pleasure.

As if Negan doesn’t feel cocky enough, the mere sight of you riding him makes him even more emboldened. Bringing eyes veiled with lust back to you, he reached around to grasp your ass, guiding your movements. “That’s it baby, you feel so fucking good.” He praised “fuck you’ll be the death of me, at least I’ll enjoy every second of it.”

He watched as your breasts bounced with each thrust. Your mouth agape, your eyes half-linded and skin flushed. It was a sight worth to die for.

But the peace you set was driving him mad, he wanted more.

He sat up, switching the position once more, before he slammed back into you. As your walls enveloped him completely, his head buried in the crook of your neck.

Those sounds coming out of your mouth didn’t seem to belong to you. You whimpered and moaned with every thrust. He filled you perfectly, fucked you perfectly. He was rough but not too rough for your taste, looking at you with adoration, hunger and possession combined.

His low hoarse voice in your ear, saying how good you were for him, how perfect and beautiful and all kind of praises between low grunts and pants feeling how his words affected you as you clenched around him.

“Cmon baby, let go for me.” He panted, his lips nipping at your skin moving down to your breast sucking on it, and feeling you arch.

“Yes—God!” Was the only thing you could gasp out. Your head fell back, his name slipping past your lips as he fucked you through your orgasm, his own release following immediately after his hips coming to a stop as he filled her up.

He looked down at you a lazy smile stretched on his lips, and let out a content sigh as he pulled out. He stole a small kiss from you and gave your bare ass a slight pinch making you whimper in his mouth before, he slumped down on the couch next to you careful not crash you. His arm snuck around your waist pulling you against him

“Well that was fucking amazing.” He grinned lazily, turning to look at you as you rested your head on his chest, your fingers tracing his skin.

The quiet of the room was now broken only by the soft hum of your breathing. It was surreal—this whole situation felt like it shouldn’t be happening.

You rested your head on his chest, the rhythm of his breath calm, slow. His hand rested gently on your waist, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin.

“You alright?” He murmured looking down at you.

“Mhmm..” you hummed once more, rolling on top of him with a smile you hand tracing his tattooed chest.

Negan chuckled, his chest vibrating beneath you. “Shit, if this is what I get for throwin’ one punch, I might have to start pickin’ more fights.”

You swatted at his side, rolling your eyes. “Don’t push your luck.”

Negan grinned, tilting his head slightly as he studied you. “Yeah? And here I thought you were startin’ to like havin’ me around. Or it was just it then? A pity fuck?” He joked arching a brow.

You let out a huff. “No.”

“Then it means you like me?” His grin stretched wider chasing your lips but you pulled away and threw him a half annoyed half amused glare but didn’t reply anything.

You stood up from the couch making him sigh dramatically, as he watched you move across the room, his eyes trailing your body and admired your bare ass from his laid position. He bit his lip at the view you were giving him.

You stopped in the doorway looking over your shoulder seeing how his gaze traveled your body hungrily, and you smirked.

“I’m gonna take a shower. Wanna join?” You threw him a sly look.

Shit, you were gonna be the death of him.

Negan’s eyes glinted with amusement, a wicked grin creeping up on his face. “Hell, I’m not one to turn down an invitation like that.”

[hopepunk-humanity]

Hello! Uhm this might be a bit unrelated but I don’t really know who else to ask?

You seem like a pretty safe person when it comes to queerness and I was wondering if you had any advice on gender dysphoria and haircuts and stuff? One of your most popular posts is about a girl who finally felt comfortable with their hair after growing it out and I figured you could help.

I’m a black genderfluid person and my hairs always in an Afro. It’s brown/black in the way it’s too cloudy/weird looking to really be either brown or black and I don’t know how to cut it in a way I like, or how to find a hairstyle that I like. I don’t really want to cut it shorter (with shrinkage it’s just above my shoulders/past my ears and when stretched it’s well past my shoulders) since I’ve been growing it out forever and it just makes me feel so un-myself

I’ve looked at Pinterest and it seems like the only genderfluid haircuts are for white people, and I was just curious if you had advice on how to find haircuts that make me feel myself?

Sorry for the ramble! Have a lovely day and happy Ides of March

Happy Ides!

I poked around various parts of the internet and didn't have a ton of success, since there was a lot of focus on cutting the hair short.

However, r/BlackLGBT has a lot of selfie posts that might give you some inspiration. This video also goes into some androgynous hairstyles for different hair textures and lengths (skip to about 11:10 for inspo on longer textured hair). Locs and twists were also styles I saw recommended repeatedly for medium-to-long hair.

I'm white, so I definitely open this post to anyone Black nonbinary people who have better recommendations.

[starfireseraphim]

My last post for the Sparklecare community.

So, I've talked to the rest of the Sparkledub team about this, and we've all come to the conclusion that... The Sparkledub is cancelled for good. With that, this is also my last post for Sparklecare as a whole. I found out about this community when I was still in the Purrfect Apawcalypse space, and I have made a lot of friends along the way. I liked Sparklecare more than Purrfect Apawcalypse because it had a lot more going for it. Characters, locations, art, LGBTQ+ representation. And the creator, Kittycorn was the nicest individual in this fandom and cared for us equally, even in the worst of times. But everything has changed. What I saw in kit has been reduced to a crazed, fetish loving monster that, at this point, has no hope in redemption. The fact that she ships siblings together, shows NSFW and fetish content to minors, and befriended a FUCKING pedophile made me consider who I looked up to. I guess incest really is an anagram of nicest. Besides, the Sparklecare community is already on a sinking ship right now, so I want to get off the sinking ship before it's too late. However, in the following days, you will see some content that WAS meant to be released sometime, but due to... THAT, almost all of it has been cancelled.

I'll still be working with most of the team behind the Sparkledub, so I'm not severing any ties with THEM anytime soon. I like what they did, and basically just walking away from them feels wrong. So I want to incoporate them into other projects, like a Lil' Char comic dub that's currently in the works. Trust me, they're not going anywhere. To all the remaining Sparklecare fans, I'm sorry it had to be like this. But unfortunately, that's the current situation I now face. Fuck you, Kittycorn. Never come back again.

Thank you.