#like it’s one thing to say something the next day under the context of like. hey so let’s discuss what happened and how we can prevent it

[9florwax]

My affirmations and self concept have been working!!! 😝😝

I’ve got so many confirmations and I feel so good!!!

Recently, I’ve been very into shifting and manifestating, as prev stated. And I’ve been nailing it. I just had an epiphany, ig AND my self concept has become so strong lol. Anyway…

But, I had a breakthrough and finally feel/know I’m in control of everything. That I am the source. I’ve been consciously manifesting / knowing that “I am a master manifestor” and “I get everything I want” (affirmations of those nature). And it’s so fun to see them come to fruition in the 3D.

So, the first instant manifestation I had was at a restaurant playing a claw machine. Ik it’s silly, but listen.

I wanted a Plankton plushie but there were none that I could logical succeed in getting, but there were a few SpongeBob ones that looked easy. Even before I inserted my dollar, I kept saying that I really wanted the Plankton plush (lmao this is so childish, bear with me).

I went for a SpongeBob one and completely missed the mark, but low-and-behold, a plankton plush was in the claws grasp and I got it. u couldn’t even see it. It was hidden and out of view, under the SpongeBob plush lmao. I was so excited. I really wasn’t affirming that I’d get it, I just really wanted it 😜

Intention is a strong thing 💪

Next, for some context, I’ve been intending to shift to a Harry Potter DR and my name there is Vera.

So, I was on YouTube reels this day, fully intending to doom scroll my boredom away, and on the very second video I got confirmation.

It was a channel that posted spelling people’s names with kitchen magnets or something like that, and the very first name I saw… VERA. Dude, when I tell you I was like so validated, like. Omg. And the name Vera is pretty uncommon imo, even if it wasn’t I’d still take that as confirmation lmao.

These were the two that were very in my face but a couple others are:

being let out early from class by my professor, on three separate occasions

not having to pick up a sibling after my classes bcuz I felt lazy that day

affirming that people think that I look like a certain person and always telling me that I look like so similar to them lol

What I noticed out of all of these manifestations, is that these are all things I’ve affirmed a couple times and completely let go of/know that it’s the truth or it is inevitable to happen, and it always does. For me, they happen as a passing thought/quick affirmation in the back of my head and I never think about it again. The results are pretty instant.

I know this is ^^ what all the coaches and gurus and master manifestors tell u, but I’m really so stunned at how easy manifesting is lmao (once you truly know and trust yourself). ITS SO EFFORTLESS ITS INSANE.

And lemme tell u, in the moment it doesn’t even feel like a big deal. It’s kinda like… quick happiness and then like… DUH, of course I was gonna get it

Anyway, thanks for reading and I hope y’all have a wonderful manifesting/shifting journey !!

[taylor-titmouse]

hey i want to talk about how you should be promoting your work as an erotic author/illustrator

i'm writing this up because the marketing aspect of my work as an erotic author/illustrator is a science to me, and also because i'm the guy who gets unreasonably annoyed when i see other creators not properly advertising their work. you presumably want to make money off your work. this post will be written under the assumption you want to make money off your work but are doing a bad job at it. it will be very confrontational. if you read this and feel attacked you're right and i am attacking you.

this is geared toward selling erotic comics/writing/books/art as products. i will probably write more than one post about this subject so if i didn't touch on something you want to know more about, comment/send me an ask and i'll keep it in mind for the next one.

i will start with my first and least specific but most important point:

DON'T GET FUCKING CUTE

hi are you paying attention. i'm gripping you by the sides of your face. do not get fucking cute with what you are trying to sell. you are not a big enough property to get cute, nobody LIKES it when big properties get cute, and you are selling porn. you have to own this. you have to be up front about this. don't be tongue in cheek, don't be all teehee i wonder what this could be~, don't be secretive. you are selling a product. you have to fucking act like it. you are an adult selling pornography to other adults. i am GRIPPING your HEAD you NEED to understand this.

and to be clear when i say 'cute' i mean coy. i don't mean cutesy, as in the aesthetic. you can be as hello kitty pastel ten emojis a post uwu as you like when you're building your audience and generating hype. but when you start trying to sell, don't be vague, don't be sarcastic, don't mislabel your work as a joke and assume everyone is on it. because they're not.

you must always assume 75% of the people seeing the thing you are advertising have no fucking idea who you are. and that includes a huge chunk of the people who already follow you. they do not know who you are or what you've been working on for two months or why they should care about it. they just got here. somebody just reposted it. they are seeing it for the first time. most people are only looking at social media for a tiny chunk of their day. they are not keeping up with you. you cannot get cute about what you are trying to sell because nobody knows what it is until you tell them.

okay are you still with me. we are going to talk about clarity now.

YOU GOTTA TELL ME WHAT IT IS

good lord the amount of times i have gone to buy somebody's comic or book and had no idea what's actually in it or what it's about. who are the characters? why should i care about them? what do they do in it? what is the premise of this thing you want me to spend $5 on? why would you not tell me? i'm shaking you again. please i have to know what i'm buying i only have so much money to spend on porn.

porn, arguably more than any other genre, relies on knowing exactly what is in it. you do not want to surprise your readers with a kink they were unaware of! and on the flip side, you do not want to miss out on your target audience! if your book contains a hot spider babe laying eggs in an elf, you have to say so. not just so people who don't want to read about eggs know it isn't for them, but so the people who are egg crazy can see that and go "oh fuck YES i love EGGS here is my $5 and an extra $2 tip for catering to me specifically". a contents/features list is as much an advertisement as it is a warning!

as for re: who the characters are and why should i care, i'm sorry but you need to learn how to write sales copy. you have to write blurbs. you have to get good at the shit that goes on the back of a book. we all hate it but we have to do it. i want to know who the characters are and what the context is. i, personally, am not interested in contemporary stories as much as fantasy and historical. please tell me what genre this porn exists in so i know if it aesthetically appeals to me. pull some books off your shelves and see how they do it. hell man go look at mine.

while you're there, note that every single book of mine has a sample of what's in it. this feels like such a no-brainer to me but again! the amount of times i have gone to buy somebody's work and they don't show me what their work looks like! you gotta give me the first page or two! just enough that i know if i like the way your writing sounds, or the way you draw your comics! i don't know you! i am not going to trust that you're good at what you do just based on a cover. the cover is to get me to this step, it is not the only step. you have to show me that you're worth spending my money on!

to put it less cynically, you want to catch my interest. you want me to go 'oh i want to see more of this', you want me to go 'ahh i want to know where this goes!' you need to get me invested and craving more. earn my $5!!!

YOU HAVE TO MAKE IT EASY TO GIVE YOU MONEY

hey go look at your bio right now. go look at your pinned post. do you have a link to your patreon there? do you have a link to your itchio/gumroad/whatever? do i have to click more than once to get to the places you want me to go to give you money? why? why are you making me click twice? have we learned nothing from every website making you click an extra time when they make some stupid UI update and how much it pisses us off? i have already given up, i have forgotten you, i am not giving you my $5 today. put your links in the easiest places to get to them.

god literally as i was writing this post i went to go find somebody's itchio to see how they described their work and it was not anywhere on their profile. grabbing you and shaking you PUT THE LINK WHERE I CAN FIND IT. don't make it hard! make it easy! i am a dickhead sitting on the toilet scrolling, saw your post, and was interested enough to read further. but you made me go to your bio to find your linktree and oops i have already gone back to my timeline to look at the boobies in the next post. stop wasting precious bio space on DNIs and put your fuckin links there!!!

this is more for the twitter people, but: just put the link in the damn post. just say the word commission. just say it's for patreon. "wuh wuh the algorithm" it is not the damn algorithm it's that everybody hates advertising and nobody wants to retweet ads. putting slashes in the words doesn't do anything and you look like a fool. i have posted so much art that says it's 'a commission for ___" and it did exactly as good as any other art despite having the word commission in it. and by doing the slashes you just made it impossible for anybody to search your account for your commission information (which should be at the VERY LEAST in a post under your pinned tweet if you're not actively posting about them being open).

okay that went on a tangent i'm going to back to the point of putting the link in the tweet. put it in the first post. not in the first reply. don't tell them to go to your bio. put it in the post people are actually going to share. it's fine to put more information in the thread but people are only ever going to share the first post. so put the link there. you have to make it easy. putting links in tweets can hurt you algorithmically, even in the replies. so you're better off having it in the post that actually gets seen and shared. i don't want to open the tweet and scroll to get to your sales page where i ASSUME you will have put all the information anyway. put it in the tweet that just got retweeted by itself onto my dash!

also you have to share it a ton of times. i repost my shit every few hours when i'm trying to push a new product. as i said before people are not 24/7 looking at their timelines. they missed it the first time. they missed it the second time. they didn't get paid yet that week but they were after the eighth time and you reminded them again so they finally bought it. that i will still get sales every time i repost a book ad weeks after release says there are always people who missed it, or who only just showed up.

abandon your pride and shill. shills pay their bills. anyone who gets annoyed about it isn't giving you money in the first place. don't worry about looking like a sell out. don't apologize for plugging your own work. post about it often, post about it in different ways. post about it. post about it. you are not going to make money if people don't know you have something to sell them. if you want to make a career out of it, you need to act like it.

I DON'T HAVE A FOURTH POINT

kisses your forehead. i'm sorry for yelling at you. i've been making and publishing and selling adult art for the past two-three years and have got myself to the point where it pays my rent, and i got there by paying attention to what does and does not work.

please do your best to make money. i want you to make money.

as i said above i plan to write more posts on this subject, such as cover design, how to actually write sales copy, and best practices with running a patreon, but if there's things you would want to hear more about leave a comment or send an ask! i will probably be less aggressive on future topics. these are just things that have grinded my gears for a grip.

[just-jordie-things]

Hi

If you take that type of requests, what jjk men turns them on to their s/o if you feel comfortable ofc

Also have a nice day <3

a/n: hehe the brainrot is ROTTING today folks <3 enjoy some semi-casual turn-ons ___

gojo satoru

obvi this man gets horny over nothing so he'll get turned on by anything you do, really.

but he especially likes when you come onto him first. just bc it's usually him trying to ~seduce~ you. so he finds it very cute when you make your attempts at initiating sexy time- whether you're good at it or not lmfao

he also likes when you tease him. call him the strongest or the honored one in that cute little mocking voice you do and he's folding he's on his knees and under your skirt.

fushiguro megumi

gets turned on by simple domestic acts.

you need your dress zipped up? you need him to open a jar for you? you need him to get something off the top shelf for you?

something about how casually you need him just gets him going.

and eventually you know it too, so after some time you find yourself asking him to help you with tasks you're fully capable of completing on your own, just to see how riled up you can get him over something as simple as cooking dinner together.

(you never did get to eat that meal lmfao)

you ended up at a mcdonalds drive through with very obviously ruined clothes and messed up hair. the cashier snickered at your matching lovebites while he'd been paying.

okkotsu yuuta

gets turned on anytime you say his name.

no matter the context. no matter the volume or tone. he's swooning if you say his name.

hollering from the next room over? lovesick.

first thing in the morning when you wake up and your voice is raspy as you ask how he slept? morning sex guaranteed.

even during an argument, if you make the mistake of calling him by his name, expect to make up very quickly. kinda hard to stay mad when he's in your guts <3

i imagine it eventually gets so bad that even when you're texting, if you call him yuuta or yuu, he's making the chat horny.

inumaki toge

touch his hair and he's mush in your hands.

as soon as your fingers card through the silk blonde locks, his eyes are falling shut and he's leaning into the touch so hard, like a little cat dying for more affection.

you swear you hear a little purr from him sometimes if you scratch at his scalp just right

it will go from comforting and sweet to the horniest makeout session in a matter of seconds tho. it doesn't take long for little purrs to turn into strangled growls and whimpers as he longs for you to tug a little harder.

if you even try to take your hands out of his hair he stops you.

100% will grab your wrist and shove your hand to the back of his head.

prolly cuz he likes having a partner that's a bit possessive <3

[rafeandonlyrafe]

the same tv

words: 1.8k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, unprotected sex, p in v sex, parent death, funerals, robbery, redemption/forgiveness, addiction, drinking (wine, not like hard drinking), tickling, cockwarming, they call themselves kids at one point but at no point are reader or rafe under 18, like itll make sense once you read it in context

the first thing you do when you enter your house is kick off your shoes. the next is to stop holding back your tears as they stream down your face. you can't even sob anymore, just silent, steady tears.

you sigh as you look around the entryway. there's been some changes since you moved away, despite only being out of your parents house for a little over a year. they replaced the grand portrait that was of your mom's parents with one of you, now taking the place of honor.

you look away before you get to the rest of the family photos. you've seen enough at the funeral. you walk further in to the house, bare feet against the shiny wood floor.

you pause when you hear something further in. you haven't forgotten how the old house seemed to speak, groaning and settling during strong winds or when too many people were crammed between it's walls.

this sound seems different, but you're also occasionally sniffling, your ears are shot from blasting music in an attempt to distract yourself, so you shrug it off and walk further into the living room.

the sound suddenly makes sense as you see someone stood in your living room, arms holding up your parents flat screen television, awkwardly trying to carry it.

you aren't even mad. you honestly don't care about the tv. or the fact that someone is trying to rob you.

you let out a bitter laugh before you sink to the floor. “of fucking course this happens.” you are glad you still have your purse slung from your shoulder as you pull your wallet out, quite aggressively throwing it at the robber who has now frozen.

“what?” he questions, lowering the tv to the ground and pushing his hood of his head, a dumb move for someone currently committing a crime.

“this has been the worst week of my life and now you're robbing me. just my fucking luck…” you let out a broken sob. “just take whatever you want and leave.”

the only things that matter to you still in the house aren't actually worth anything anyways. the photos of your parents, your dad's cologne that's half empty, the oak tree that your childhood dog is buried next to.

“i thought the people who lived here died.”

you pick your head up, a look of fury overtaking your face.

“they did. they're my fucking parents! and now they're gone and you're fucking robbing me! get the fuck out!” you stand up, pushing at the robbers chest.

he looks familiar, like you should know who he is but can't place him.

“im-shit. im sorry.” he says, allowing you to shove him away and out the door. 

“im really fucking sorry!” he yells again before you slam the door shut.

-- years later --

you park your car in the driveway instead of pulling it all the way into the garage like you know you should, but you need to know if you're correct about the man sitting on your front step.

“you're the kid that tried to rob me.” you say as you walk the sidewalk to the porch.

“yes.” he says, looking ashamed and a whole lot more grown up. “i was an addict and i owed a debt. my dad had just kicked me out of the house and i was on my own for the first time. it was stupid of me, but when i heard the people living here died, i thought it'd be a victimless crime.”

he sighs deeply, like even just thinking back to that time physically hurts. “i didn't even think that someone could have inherited the house. im so, so sorry.” 

he swallows thickly. “my mom died when i was young. my dad- my dad just died recently. he faked his death and i got him back, but he's actually gone this time. you know what you said about the worst week in your life?”

you think back those years. it's mostly a blur, especially the days surrounding your parents car crash and funeral, but you do remember breaking down in front of the robber. you nod gently, waiting to hear the end of his speal.

“i know what you mean now. and im sorry i hurt you. im sorry about your parents dying.” he pulls something out of his pocket, extending his hand.

you look into his open palm, realizing it's a ornate gold necklace.

“no.” you shake your head. “you keep it. you don't need to bribe me to forgive you.”

“i want you to have it.” he says. “it's… it's not a lot, but it's something. something to help make up for what ive done.”

you reach forward, carefully taking the necklace out of his outstretched hand, carefully not to accidentally bump his skin. 

“thank you.” you say, admiring the way the sun gleams off the metal. 

“im rafe, by the way. rafe cameron.”

“y/n.” you respond, undoing the clasp of the necklace.

“here, let me.” he takes it out of your hands, moving quicker than you can think as he steps around you. your hair is already up in a bun, so rafe is able to reach around and easily place the chain around your neck.

“thank you.” the weight of the necklace feels comfortable against your skin, like it's the last finishing touch you need. you are wearing your mother's earrings, your father's bracelet, and now you have the other piece of what made that time in your life so miserable, your robbers necklace.

“i… i guess ill be going now.” rafe says.

you turn and watch him walk away. you recognize so much of your former self in him, the clear grieving he's going through.

“are you sober now?” you call out before he reaches the end of your driveway.

“sober enough.” he shouts back. rafe doubts he'll ever truly be clean, but he can at least manage now, doesn't need the drugs like he used to.

“then come back for dinner tomorrow. we can talk.”

you can see the smile stretch over his features. “ill be there.”

-- three months later --

“shit.” rafe says, head snapping over to you. “this is the same tv.”

you giggle and nod, surprised it took him so long to realize. “i never really watch tv on the actual tv, so no need to replace it.” you shrug, the gold necklace still draped over your neck. you haven't taken it off except to shower and sleep.

“god, thats crazy.” rafe looks over to you. “imagine if we just talked back then.” 

you shake your head. “you just think you want that because we get along now. we were both in bad places.”

“you don't think we would have been hooking up back then?” rafe asks, raising an eyebrow at you, watching the way your thighs press together at the mere mention of hooking up, already feeling the urge to sleep with rafe even after having sex only a couple of hours ago.

“we were two scared kids. if we were hooking up we definitely shouldn't have been.” you giggle, reaching your wine glass out for rafe to refill, which he is glad to pour a more than healthy amount in.

“and now?” rafe looks down at his lap.

“and now we are two slighty less scared slightly older kids.” you giggle again, taking a deep sip before leaning across the couch cushion to press a kiss to rafes cheek, the movie you had put on long forgotten.

“rafe.” you wait until he looks you in the eye. “im here for you.”

“god, what have i done to deserve you?” rafe wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you on top of him as he flops back onto the couch. 

you let out a laugh before it's cut off with his lips. he kisses you heavily, hand against the back of your head, not allowing you to pull away, not that you want to.

you let himself get lost in your kiss. you wish you had someone to support you in the time you needed most, and you're determined to be that person for rafe now.

rafe easily dominates your mouth even though he's underneath you as you quickly work your shorts off, wiggling against him until your bottom half is nude.

you press against rafes crotch, still covered by his sweatpants. you feel his cock straining against the fabric as you rub your pussy against it, wetting the gray material.

“baby, please.” rafe groans. he would pull his cock out himself, but his hands are preoccupied holding you close to him as if his life depends on it.

“oh, now you don't like teasing?” you smile.

“alright, i deserve this.” rafe also manages a chuckle despite his straining erection. “but please. need to feel your pussy ‘round me.”

“alright.” you roll your eyes dramatically. you'll have to get revenge on rafe at a different time for edging you the other night.

you push his pants down his thighs until you're able to reach into his underwear and pull out his cock. you give him a few quick strokes before lining up your entrance and sinking down.

rafe let's out a moan, barely pulling his face away from yours. “you're so wet.”

“it's almost like i like you or something.” you roll your eyes.

rafe laughs before kissing you again, hand moving up to your hair, tangling his fingers between the strands.

you sit on his cock for a moment, adjusting, before beginning to move, up then down, up then down, subtle movements of your hips, not needing anything fast, wanting drawn out, wanting it to last.

the movie is long over by the time rafe finally cums, a hand finally moving down to rub your clit to make sure you get off at the same time as his.

by the time you're both satisfied, you're sweaty and exhausted. you don't even bother to pull off his cock as you rest your head against his chest.

“thank you.” rafe says softly, rubbing his hand over your back. you don't need to ask what for. you know. for being there. you'll always be there.

you look up at him, a small smile on your face. “how are we gonna tell people we met?”

things are quickly getting serious, and while he hasn't breached the subject with you yet, neither of you have been hiding how quickly you're falling.

“what, you think it's a problem that we met when i was robbing you?” rafe says, making you giggle, only intensified by his hand pressing into your side, fingers tickling you as you howl with laughter.

rafe flips you over onto your back so you're underneath him, keeping his cock pushed inside of you.

“maybe we should just tell people we met on tinder.” rafe shrugs.

you roll your eyes. “somehow that's more embarrassing.”

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @sourkittie @rafeyslove @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @vogueprincess @auryyz @raysmayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl @ditzyzombiesblog @chiaraanatra @tobiaslut @drewsephrry @1aarii1 @edszn @theoraekenslover

[praisetheaxolotl]

The Arsonist Theory, Part 1: Mandibles!

Eight years ago, a few weeks shy of the day itself, I wrote something called The Arsonist Theory. It was my last theory post before making this blog, and looking back, it was disorganized, and I could have presented it better.

So, with new evidence, I'm doing just that.

The core of the theory is this: You don't blame the arson itself for a fire. You blame the arsonist that set the fire in the first place. There is a secret third piece of the puzzle here- not the act of arson, not the fire itself, but something more.

Therefore, consider this: Bill was not the sole perpetrator of the Euclidean Massacre. Rather, he was a weapon used to commit it.

Like the original, this will be a four-part theory, just to make it more digestible. I'll refer back to the original on occasion, but most of it will be new information.

Oh, and-

MAJOR, MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE BOOK OF BILL UNDER THE CUT. THIS INCLUDES THE TEXT ITSELF AND SOLUTIONS TO CIPHERS.

With that out of the way, let's go.

In another post, I mentioned that the specific wording of "Saw his own dimension burn" having a very passive connotation to it, plus parts of the glitched page, shown here- make it incredibly likely, if not certain, that the massacre was an accident on Bill's part.

Bill's main intention was to show everyone what he had seen all along-- show them that he wasn't crazy. But that's not what happened.

Also, just as an aside- part three of the original theory has some examples of exact wording being a thing to pay attention to in matters surrounding Bill. It mostly concerns his deals with others, but in a Doylist sense, it tells us: exact wording is important with this character, so pay attention.

But let's put a pin in that for a second.

On the page teaching us how to trick everyone into loving us, there's a portion about conversation topics:

The cipher in the candy heart says "LIES," by the way, and it's the only cipher on the page- immediately setting this portion apart from all the others. Bill says here that one conversation topic on a date-- while meeting someone-- is the very specific term, "mandibles."

Say, where have I seen that recently?

Huh... that's interesting! What a specific word to come up twice, in these specific contexts! Remember what I said about exact wording? Sure you do, you have a very good memory, I admire that about you!

But that's not everything I noticed.

All that glitching? You can actually see text peeking out at certain points. And what does that text say?

"Nice to meet ya!"

Over and over and over again.

There's nothing else in my mind that can make this make sense to me. There was someone else there. He met up with someone.

But that's not all- I still have three more posts of evidence to write.

Check back here for links to them- they should all come out within the next day or two, and I'm gunning for all of it to be out before the countdown on thisisnotawebsitedotcom hits zero.

Part 2: We get it, the billboard is a metaphor

Part 3: Journey To The Vicious Spiral Nebula

Part 4: Blame The Arson, Not The Fire

[graysnetwork]

LISTENNN, Keegan during nnn???

Ooo😏🤭

NNN

Keegan’s sex drive isn’t crazy, at least he likes to say that, but really it’s just 3 times a week; at least, he doesn’t like being too needy but he’s a man, and he has wants.

Hesh decided it’s be a good idea to mention ‘No Nut November’ to Keegan, and had the even better idea to challenge him to it.

And Keegan didn’t take challenges lightly, and hesh knew that well, so when he decided to tell him “I bet you couldn’t do it” he knew Keegan would get all riled up and he’d commit. So since Keegan has come home with you he’d text Hesh everyday and say “another day bitch” or something to that degree, you get it.

Soon though, it was getting hard, watching you through the steamed up glass shower door, in his shirt and panties (rarely) when you slept, you bending over and looking around the closet for an outfit while your body was wrapped in a towel, you looking for things under the couch making you go in downward dog position, or when you were relaxing on the couch (again) in his shirt and panties.

It was torture just having to stare at you.

And you’re obliviously doing these things and he knows it, he knows you can do these things purposely but half of the time he gets turned on by you it’s by subtle things that you do without thinking. He thought it was so much cuter.. hotter when you had not one thought behind those pretty eyes.

Keegan sat at the couch staring at the Tv in boredom, nothing seemed to make him interested at the moment. He felt like something was missing, like there was something else he had to do today. And that could be the dishes he said he’d do, or the laundry he said he’d help you with, or it could be the raging boner he had.

The tent in his pants were noticeable, how could you not notice them? You thought as you walked downstairs and sat next to him, he wrapped his arm around you and threw the remote into your lap as he stared at you. You were also bored, you simply put a Netflix movie on and turned to look at Keegan.

“are you su-”

“Yes” he interrupted you, he knew what you were gonna say— ‘are you sure you don’t want me to help you with that?’ —And no he wasn’t sure, because he wanted you so badly, but his pride had taken over already, he wasn’t going to lose against hesh.

“Okay” you said and turned the volume up. That was that, the end of the conversation and you rested your head on his shoulder.

At some point, you can’t really remember, but you had gotten up to go make some food, coincidentally Keegan got a message— ‘you win’ — from Hesh. It was a brief message, with no context it would have confused anyone. But Keegan smiled and texted back ‘I knew you couldn’t do it’

He chuckled and finally got up from the couch and walked to the kitchen. He saw you cutting some vegetables. He came up behind you and kissed you on the neck. Both hands were gently placed on your waist. One hand traveling down and toying with your cunt. You could hear his pants drop and he swiftly pulled your bottoms down too.

“m’baby.. i missed you” I groaned as he entered your tight pussy.

———

Anyways🤨

[roanniom]

also hi i reread the housewife!reader fic and uhhh eddie’s other ideas…like fucking you in only an apron?! hear me out: EDDIE is wearing the apron. *may be niche but i go feral for men in aprons!!!!!

The Apron

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, dirty talk, slight sub!Eddie but really switch energy from both Eddie and reader, hand job

Eddie does nice things for you all the time, so it isn't surprising to find him in the kitchen taking care of dinner after you called him from work telling him what a shit day you were having.

Hearing you close the front door, Eddie turns from the counter where he's chopping vegetables to give you the biggest grin.

"There you are, beautiful. Come over here and let me get you a glass of wine."

You drop your bag on the floor in awe. Again, not because you're shocked by Eddie doing something so nice but because of the very look of him right now. He's shirtless, wearing just a pair of boxers and tube socks. And your flower print apron.

When he doesn't hear you move further into the apartment, Eddie looks over his shoulder, worried.

"Babe? You okay?"

Not a second later, you're on him. You've got him pressed against the counter, your front pushing into his back. You have to stand up on tip toes to reach, but you plaster kisses to the back and side of his neck once you sweep his long hair out of the way.

"Mmm missed you," is all you manage to mutter against his skin. Eddie is frozen under your grasp, not knowing how to receive being manhandled in this way. It is quite the role reversal. In fact, this exact situation has happened many times, just flipped. With him engulfing you in his arms in the kitchen and grinding against you and whispering dirty words in your ear until you're nothing more than a puddle.

"Missed you, too, sweetheart," Eddie stutters in response. But your next action has him pushing away the knife he'd been holding so he can grip the edge of the countertop instead. You step so that both of your feet are on either side of his right one and push your hips against him, finding friction somewhere between the expanse of his thigh and the curve of his ass.

"Love seeing you make dinner for me," you say into his shoulder before nipping at it. Eddie intakes breath sharply on a chuckle.

"Yeah? You like me taking care of you?" he asks.

"Yeah. I do. It's really hot." Your hands go from his hips to rest over her hands where they grip the counter, interlacing your fingers with his tight ones. You have no idea where this dominance is coming from. Both you and Eddie have always been pretty switch-y, but without the context of the bedroom, this is almost out of character. But Eddie doesn't seem to mind. Not when he's shifting back against your hips and humming.

"If this alone is turning you on, wait till you find out what I'm making you."

"Oh yeah, pretty boy? What are you making me?" you ask, sucking a hickey directly into the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

"That pasta you like," he replies, but his voice is breathier than before. It makes you run your hands up his forearms and under the top of the apron. So you can run your fingernails across his bare chest. He hisses and buckles forward a tiny bit, giving you more to press yourself against.

"Sounds delicious," you whisper in his ear. "But maybe I'm hungry for something else."

Before Eddie can respond, you're pulling him to face you, pinning him back against the counter where you've trapped him since your arrival and grabbing his face to pull him down into a soul sucking kiss.

It's need and dirty, and the sounds that issue from both of you are nothing short of filthy.

This is what you needed. During your awful day at work where you're the assistant to a horrible boss, all you could think about was your lack of importance. Lack of control. You had absolutely no power and no autonomy, especially not in the face of an office full of men who treat you like a piece of meat.

It's not that you want to treat Eddie like a piece of meat, of course. You love him and you respect him. He is everything to you and he takes care of you like you've never been taken care of before. But there is a sort of rush flowing through your veins at the idea of manhandling him. Of getting him worked up and using him for you own (and his own) pleasure after a day of feeling so insignificant. Here, in the warmth of this kitchen, you’re nothing if not significant.

Your tongue plunders his mouth and your hands slide down to his waist, squeezing and gripping and groping. Yet again you step so that your feet are on either side of one of his. Eddie immediately bends at the knee, raising his thigh up to slot between yours and giving you a surface to press against. You're feeling needier by the second, but your urge to stay in control makes it so that you reserve yourself to only a few intentional rolls of your hips.

Eddie's hands are in your hair, on your neck, on your back, on your breasts. He's practically beside himself, preening underneath all of the unexpected attention you are lavishing on him.

When you finally pull back for a more considerable breath of air, Eddie tries to chase your lips, so you keep him held back by your grip on the hair at the nape of his neck. The sting of the pull makes him hiss and he grins at you, almost drunkenly.

"I'm not one to question a good thing, princess, believe me, but what's got you so worked up?" he asks. His voice is low and gravely and it makes you want to swallow his vocal cords. So you do the next best thing, licking up the column of his throat and sucking another bruise just to the left of his adam's apple, making him moan outright.

"You. You in this fucking apron," you grit out finally, all thoughts of gender norms and their uselessness swirling around in your head in flurry of lust and confusion. You pull away from him to take him in once more and end up running a hand down your face. "Oh...fuck."

"What?" Eddie asks before looking down and seeing exactly what you're reacting to - the prominent tenting of said apron directly over his lap. With nothing but the thin fabric of his boxers covering him, his erection is standing proudly, almost begging for your attention.

Eddie laughs at your wide eyed staring.

"Of course my dick is hard. What was it supposed to do with you comin' at me like that? Rubbing that sweet pussy all over me." His words are dismissive, as if he doesn't know the way they seep right to your very core.

"I don't know it's just..." you cock your head to the side and drink in the image of your man, wearing your apron in your shared kitchen, his hard on lifting the fabric with the strength of his desire for you. You run your hand from the top of the garment down to squeeze his length through the fabric. “It’s sexy.”

“Me cooking for you is hot and sexy? I’m never letting you in this kitchen again, baby.” Eddie tries to make his joke, but it comes out distracted as your hand moves beneath the fabric of the apron and under the waistband of his boxers. He’s hot and hard and aching, and you’ve barely done anything. There’s something in the way you’re looking at him that makes him whimper, a sound you definitely don’t miss. It makes you bring your hand back out, and you lift it to his face.

“Spit.”

He does as you order immediately, without even a thought. You return your now lubricated hand back beneath the apron and his boxers. The rub is slick as you start pumping him.

“Fuck,” he says quietly, staring down with hooded eyes. He’s watching the way your fist pumps under the apron, moving the fabric up and down with each tug of his cock.

“Like that, baby?” you all but coo. Eddie nods his head distractedly so you hum. “Yeah? Like it when I take care of you right back?”

The role reversal is heady and you love that he seems just as lost in it as you are. Not that you had really been worried he wouldn’t be into it - it’s Eddie, he’s into almost anything that includes his dick and your body - but you preen with pride that the vibe pushing your buttons today also works for him .

The only thing is he’s kinda quiet. And as someone who is used to a motor mouth Munson, you’re not satisfied with his gasping silence.

So you decide to egg him on.

“You know what I really need from you right now, Eddie?”

“W-what?”

You lean up on your tip toes, gripping Eddie by the back of his neck with your free hand to bring him down closer to you so you can breathe hotly in his ear.

“I really, really need you to cum.”

Eddie lets out a strangled moan as you couple your statement with a pointed swirl of your thumb on his sensitive, leaking slit. His hips rock forward into your hand and you laugh at his eagerness.

"I need you to cum all over my hand. Can you do that for me, Eddie?"

"Y-yeah, I can do that."

"For me, baby?"

"Anything," Eddie says, eyes all desperate and hazy but still finding yours. You shift the apron out of the way finally so you can both watch your hand pumping away at his swollen cock. You gasp dramatically at the sight.

"Oh look at that! It seems like you really do need to cum, huh?" You're teasing him, your voice all taunting. The sight of your smaller hand on his big, throbbing dick, mixed with the sound of your sweet condescension, makes Eddie groan. Teasing was usually his job, but having you do it made all the blood in his body shoot straight to the space between his thighs, even more than before. Which means there was absolutely none left to power his brain, leaving him to babble almost incoherently.

"Need it," he grunts.

"I know, baby. I can feel you throb in my hand. Gonna burst, huh?"

"Oh fuck..."

You lean up again and lick the shell of his ear, making him shiver.

"If you cum right now, how long do you think it'll take for you to get hard again?"

Eddie's brain glitches and he stutters, his fingers turning white against the edge of the countertop.

"I-I...I don't know..."

"You don't know? Hmm?" you ask, letting your free hand slide down from his neck, over his chest and abdomen, over your slick-wet hand where it tugs at him, and down to cup his balls. "Well why don't you hurry up and stain this apron so we can find out. Yeah?"

"Oh my fucking god," Eddie gasps in response, hips bucking into you at this point.

The two of you have done much more depraved shit than this, so he has no idea why he is melting like warm butter in the sun under your touch. But there's something about the confidence of your hand on him. The newness of the gravel and heat in your voice. The promise mixed with the command. It's unlocking a door he hadn't considered before in your dynamic, and out of nowhere he feels close to tears from a simple hand job.

His hazy eyes find yours again and you correctly read the plea in them. The need for you to follow through with the power you currently hold over him. The corner of your mouth quirks up into a grin and you lean forward to suck a dark and sudden mark into his throat before whispering huskily into his ear.

"Cum for me, big boy."

The moan Eddie lets out is otherworldly, filling the space of your small kitchen and echoing throughout your small shared home. His cock pulses in your grip and then he's cumming. Fast and hard. Hot spend shooting out over your fist and onto your apron and your work top. It's so much, all over and you let out a shuddering, pleased laugh.

"There we go. That's it, Eddie. That's it, baby," you encourage, milking his cock for all he's worth, helping him expel the last of his cum so that it dribbles down over your wrist. "Mmm, bet that felt so good, huh? Mmm look so pretty for me."

You're swept into Eddie's arms before you can praise him any further. He crushes your body to his and clings to you, his lips finding yours in a bruising kiss. It knocks the air out of you but fills your lungs nonetheless. The act calls attention to the throbbing between your own thighs, and within moments you find yourself rutting against his thigh almost unconsciously.

Eddie is the first to break the soul sucking kiss, though he does immediately move down to rip open the buttons of your work blouse to litter kisses over your neck, clavicle, and the swells of your breasts.

"Gonna take what you want from me, princess?" he hums gruffly, words made husky from the way his groans had abused his vocal cords. "You already took all my cum."

There it is. Not exactly dominance, but a glimmer of the cheeky confidence that usually colored every sexual encounter between the two of you. You feel your body heat up even further as a rush of adrenaline makes your hips move faster, pushing your clothed pussy over his thigh at a faster rate.

"You've got more to give," you respond breathlessly. Your smirk makes his already dark eyes darken impossibly further. "You've always got more." There. You're not letting go of control that easily. Eddie's answering smirk makes you realize that maybe neither of you need to let go. Maybe the two of you can continue this back and forth, this give and take. This dance of pushing and pulling, breaking each other down and building each other back up until time itself bends around the two of you.

Eddie, to your disappointment, pulls away from you enough to pull the soiled apron off his body. The movement calls attention back to his cock, now tucked back inside his ruined boxers, allowing you to see that he's begun to harden again in a marvelous show of stamina.

"I'll give you anything, baby," Eddie grins. He turns the stove off before hoisting you into the air. Your legs wind around his torso and your hands find his hair so you can mark the remaining pale real estate of his neck and shoulders as he stumbles towards the bedroom.

"Anything."

~*~

--

---

----

-----

------

I hope you enjoyed!!! Please let me know and thanks for reading!

[ariaste]

I made a post a few days ago about how dire the hits-to-comments ratio is in this fandom and since then I have tried an experiment, got great results, and I am back to explain how we solve this problem as a community.

Several people made disheartened comments on the previous post about how consumer culture has finally made it to fandom (that is, people don't comment on fics as much any more because they're passive consumers of content rather than equal participants in fandom) but... I kind of think that part of this might be our responsibility as fic authors as well, and something that we as can do something about and take agency over. Because yeah, it's correct that commenting has gone down, but you know what I also don't see very much anymore??? People adding a note at the end of the fic saying "Comments give me life!" or "If you liked this fic, please let me know, a nice comment makes me smile all day" or "Comments keep me energized to write more, please let me know if you enjoyed this!" or "I would love to hear what you thought of this! :)"

The culture of a community is not something that people just know instinctively. It's something that has to be taught, just like manners and etiquette in any other context (you don't know the fish fork from the entree fork from the dessert fork until someone shows you, for example). The venn diagram of "the good old days of fandom when lots of people were in the habit of leaving comments" and "the bad old days when we had to humbly ask people to please comment if they liked it at the end of fics" is probably almost a circle. Yes, it's true that we are living in a society where we are being encouraged to be passive consumers of content and that this is probably leaking into fandom spaces. But the way that we start course-correct is to simply communicate clearly in public about what your needs and preferences are. Not in posts like this, because not everyone is going to see it and it will eventually disappear into the ether, and because one big essay isn't going to affect much change. Just... in small spaces where people will see it immediately when it's relevant, like in the end notes of your fic, or in the caption/description under your fanart post. It is not a bad thing to tell people that you like comments. You are not vain or arrogant for wanting engagement and appreciation for something you made out of love and enthusiasm, you are HUMAN. It is not a bad thing to communicate your needs. And oftentimes it is way more effective than you realize until you have actual data to back it up, like the data I'm looking at right now for this fic.

I made one change on the most recent chapter, and that was to put this at the end:

LISTEN TO ME REAL QUICK HERE, WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT SOMETHING. This fandom has the worst comments-to-hits ratios on fics that I've ever seen. That sucks. Comments are part of a healthy fandom ecosystem, and I can't tell you how many unexpected friends I've made just by telling them I liked their fic. If you don't feel like leaving a comment on this fic, that's okay with me. But you have to PROMISE that you'll leave one on the next three IWTV fics you read, ok? Give our authors some love so they'll keep writing. It'd be a really, really long hiatus until s3 without them.

Since posting this, I can only describe the state of my inbox as, "Oh, THAT'S more like it, there we go, much better!" So... try it out? Tell people that their thoughts and comments are welcome? Remind them that this is a good thing to be doing? It's not going to make everyone comment, but I bet it'll make at least a little bit of a positive difference, and the more people start doing it, the faster we'll inch ourselves back to a thriving and healthy fandom ecology. :)

Rome wasn't built in a day, and culture has to be taught, and the best and happiest kinds of communities grow when the participants are aware and intentional about it.

[violetsiren90]

Pairing: dom!Hoseok/sub/brat!f!Reader

Genre: Oneshot; hard smut (eventual fluff 😂); BDSM lifestyle; friends to fwb to?; canon-compliant (idolAU)

Summary: You've been friends with Hobi for years, and he's your comfort zone - but when he gets wind of a dark secret you drunkenly let slip, things between you take a sudden extreme change.

Warnings: 18+ (minors, dni); hardcore BDSM themes/relationships; full consent and safe-words ❤; Hobi is a hard dom; MC is a brat (mostly); dominance and submission; elements of primal play; sexual degradation (deg-play use of the word "b*tch"); mentions of MC's hair and hair pulling; rough physical contact in a sexual context (manhandling); mentions of drinking; kink-outing; Jimin is a menace lol; Hobi in the studio 👀 (The full oneshot will come with more specific warnings - a looooong list lol)

Mood board here! ⛓🖤

Release date: Christmas? 🎄

Author's note: Hey, y'all! I am catapulting out of my comfort zone with this one and, honestly, having the time of my life. I've been in my Hobi era lately and when the concept of dom!Hobi possessed my mind I knew I'd have to write it out or else. 😅😂 I hope to pop this under your trees around Christmas! Hope you enjoy the teaser, and as always, if no one has told you yet today, you are loved and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

Also, a big thank you to @orchidyoonkook for beta reading this - you are the real MVP! 💕

If you want to be alerted via the tag list for this when it drops, let me know!

_______________________________________________

  "What?" Hoseok's wide grin stretches further as he regards your flustered face with giddy anticipation.

    You groan into your hands, willing the cushions of your friend's leather couch to swallow you like quicksand.

    "Fucking Jimin - I'll kill him!" you whine, pressing your fingers to your temples, and keeping your eyes glued to the hardwood of the studio floor.

    The rapper laughs as he swivels his baseball cap to sit backwards on his fluffy brown mop of hair. 

    "Come on! Tell me!" he insists, sprawling back in his rolling chair, the tips of his fingers touching deviously together as he regards you with twinkling eyes. 

    You sneak a glance at him before sighing defeatedly, which only earns another chortle of laughter from across the room.

    Park fucking Jimin. You really were going to kill him. Too many bottles of soju the week prior saw you blacking out at the BTS member's pad, the one he shared with your mutual friend, Jung Hoseok. You woke up the next day, memories of the night before obscure concepts of debauchery merely alluded to by the taste of bile and the dull cranial throb of dehydration. When Jimin rather gleefully handed you, along with an iced americano, one of the booze-fueled revelations you had let slip, you begged and pleaded with him to erase the memory from his brain...or at the very least to take it to his grave. He made no such promises. And now, you are facing the man of the hour - the subject of your divulgement - who had apparently been informed that you harbored certain strong opinions in his regard. Humiliating.

    You flick mildly irritated eyes back up to your friend who waggles his brows in a way that makes you want to crack a smile and sock him at the same time.

    "Before I say anything, I want to know exactly what he told you," you demand, crossing your arms defensively, no cracked smile to be found.

    He rolls his eyes up to the corner of the ceiling in recollection.

    "He just said that you had gotten wasted and admitted something kinky...about me." 

    At the last two words he drops his voice dramatically low and pins you with a grin that is sickeningly predatory. Your pulse begins to hammer and you have to remind yourself that you are, in fact, capable of speech. Fuck, you think to yourself, it's happening. You can feel sweat starting to bead at your hairline. Maybe if you get it out there, just say it aloud, it will lose its power. Maybe the spell will be broken. Maybe he will laugh and you will laugh and you'll order lunch and keep irritating him while he's supposed to be working on a track. You're both adults, right? You whoosh out a breath. 

    Hobi is still looking at you, his bottom lip pushing up and the corners of his mouth tugging down in one of his little inverted smirks while his right leg bounces a little up and down. It is just Hobi, after all, you tell yourself. Just Hobi. You are roundly aware that it may be a lie, but it seems to allow you just enough courage to jump.

    "Okay, okay!" you practically shout, and he giggles and stomps his feet, which admittedly makes revealing this particular chestnut a bit easier.

    "I told him...I said..."

    "What?"

    "Oh, Christ! Fine!" And the rest comes out like water from a fire hose. "One time I came to drop off Jimin's charger and you were in dance practice and you were watching the guys and you had this look on your face - like you were pissed or something - and it was so unlike you and I got turned on and ended up having a fucking wet dream that you were stepping on my mother-fucking pussy, okay?! Are you satisfied now?!"

    You heave a sigh and throw yourself back against the cushions, hands over your face. How you just mustered the courage to form those actual words you haven't even the faintest notion - but it was going to be you or Jimin, and it might as well be you. After your heart has begun to return to its resting rate and you've heaved a few deep breaths you steel yourself against the certain impending onslaught of Hobi's laughter and general mockery...which doesn't come. You peek through your fingers to see that your friend has shifted in his chair, facing a bit away from you toward the inside of the room, leaning forward, his hands gripping the ends of the chair's armrests. His face looks a little troubled, or pensive, you can't tell which. You sit up and really look at him, suddenly worried. Did you just fuck things irrevocably up? That was an incredibly bizarre and intimate thing to admit. Shit.

    "Hobi?" you squeak, barely over a whisper, as you regard him.

    He tilts his head suddenly to look at you, quick like a bird, and when those dark eagle-eyes regard you in return, you feel like a small, helpless creature scurrying across the tundra. Nowhere to hide. A bead of sweat escapes its perch and slips down from your temple. As he utters his question of response, the air suddenly becomes as thick as the tropics.

    "Is that something that you'd want, Y/n? To be treated like that? To be...put in your place? Put down?"

    You don't answer him. You can't. Your words, your breath, your coherent thoughts are stuck, inert, useless as your chest begins to rapidly rise and fall in heavy swells. Your eyes are locked on his face as if by magnetic force. He stands, his baggy Louis Vuitton tee falling over his grey sweats. He shoves his hands in the pockets and takes a step toward where you sit. His posture is relaxed. His gaze is anything but.

    "Is it?"

    You want to say you don't know. That you'd never considered it again. Never once recalled the image of it - of him -  standing over you as the sole of his shoe punished your throbbing sex.

    "Fuck..." you breathe, and when he doesn't take his eyes from your squirming form, you relent. "...y-yeah."

    He takes another step toward you, slowly. He's crowding you now, as he looks down, and the proximity is almost more than you can bare.

    "You see," he remarks musingly, "I thought you were gonna say something funny - something ridiculous," he tilts his head to one side, the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips, "But that's not funny, Y/n. No, that's not funny at all. Because, as it turns out..."

    He leans down, his breath fanning over your face as he speaks. Mint and espresso. You shiver and close your eyes.

    "...that's something I can do."

...what? He can...h-he can....

    "Hoseok..." you whisper shakily, because it's all you can manage.

    You hear him laugh darkly and you don't look at him.

    "Hoseok?" he mimics, "Not, Hobi, huh? Hoseok when you're like this, is it?" 

    "When I'm like...what?" You practically whimper in complaint, eyes still pressed shut as your last line of defense.

    But any manner of defense is in vain as he answers your query, the words dripping from his lips slowly like honey, sickly like venom - 

    "When you're a filthy pathetic little slut."

    A whine escapes you at the complete and utter shock of his words. Suddenly you clamp your thighs together (to provide friction or obscurity to your quickly dampening cunt you are unsure), and that's when he takes your jaw between his fingers and roughly jerks your chin upwards, your eyes fluttering frantically open. 

    "Is this what you want?" he hisses, "For me to have my way with you like a needy whore?" Fuck, is this happening? This is really happening. Your mind reels, but that's alright - it stopped doing the thinking when he got up out of that chair. Something primal in you had taken over, something that's been starving for so long, something that longs to feed.

    You do your best to nod with your chin in his grip. He swallows thickly, his eyes darting to your lips, and then back up to yours. His pupils are blown, his eyes almost wholly black as they trace over your face. Suddenly his hand slips from your chin to the nape of your neck where his hand tangles in your hair and his head drops to the side, his gaze softening.

    "I need you to say it, Y/n, are you sure you want to do this?" he asks, his voice so, so low but without the edge that sends ice through your veins. His voice. He's asking you as someone who cares about you, cares what you want - your friend. Do you want this? No...you don't want it. You need it.

    "Yes - yes, Hobi - I want this," you find yourself stumbling over the words to get them out.

    So quickly and so assured. Have you ever been this certain of anything in your life? His fingers dance against the nape of your neck and you sigh as his eyes travel all over your body. You want to hide. You want to strip down. You want to run and you want him to chase you. You want him to punish you when he catches you. You are sick with want.  

    "A safe word, baby, we need a safe word," he nudges your racing mind back into the current moment with his words.

    You blink, your mind running up against the sudden saccharine pet name (which he has admittedly called you before) as it scrambles for something obvious and yet not ridiculous.     Something simple maybe...a flower...?

    "Foxglove," you say, and he raises his brows with a grin.

    "Foxglove it is," he acquiesces. "So if you ever want me to stop, ever - okay? You say that. Foxglove." 

    You nod.

    "Say it for me," he whispers, you shiver again. Fuck.

    "Foxglove." It's slow and thick leaving your mouth.

    "Good girl," he purrs. Butterflies erupt in your rib-cage and your eyelids flutter. "How hard do you want it?" He asks, "How rough?"

    You scramble to find your voice.

    "Pretty rough, I think," you posit, a bit unsure of what that means.

    He hums in response, his brows knitting in thought. You were going to have to give him something to go on, you could see that.

    "I..." you stammer, "I want you to...to punish me. I want you to...to hurt me a little."

    He raises a brow - looks at you, just stares as if considering. Then suddenly you know what to say.

    "See...I'm not a good girl," you insist tilting your head back a bit haughtily, a bit defiantly. Being a good girl had gotten you butterflies, but that's not what you wanted right now. That's not what every cell of your body was screaming for.

     He's grinning wickedly again - his other hand is slipping out of his pocket and the one in your hair is gripping at the roots.

    "Hm. You're not are you?" he asks, his voice as dark and cold as the Pacific once again.

    "No, Hobi," you whisper. And suddenly your world is tilted on its axis as he tightens his fingers against your scalp and yanks your head back, sending a searing pain shooting through your skin as he stoops to hiss in your ear.

    "That's Hoseok, you pretty little bitch."

    You let out a whimper so needy it's nearly a sob. Your heartbeat is pounding between your legs. He lets go of your hair as roughly as he grabbed it and goes to lock the door and your stomach flips - you are totally and completely at his mercy. It's a little bit terrifying and completely exhilarating. When he comes to loom over you again, you decide just exactly where you stand in all this. You know exactly what you want. You glare up at him. He narrows his eyes.

    "You gonna listen, hm?"

It's not a question, you know it's not - it's a command. But you have one, just one, of your own...

    "Make me."

[bonny-kookoo]

Can we get a drabble of someone older, of yn and jungkook waking up for the first time in jk house 🥺 perhaps in jk pov because it was his first like after years of divorce 😭 and like as per he said “my bed never witness me with others” 😆😆

Of course! Went a bit overboard pls I love them-

-> Masterlist

He's stretching his limbs a little, like usual after waking up, yawning just to notice that this time, he's not alone in bed.

He feels a lot better being back at home and not in hospital- even though it's empty here, it's still a place of safety and comfort to him. And right now, it feels even more as such- as you still sleep soundly next to him in his large bed, filling it up with warmth and a sense of serene company.

It's not at all the first time he wakes up next to a woman. But somehow, this is entirely new.

You're turned towards him even while not conscious, one of your hands touching his body, even though it's just resting on his lower stomach beneath the covers. Nothing intimate happened last night before you went to bed- mostly because you were too worried about his physical condition to let him initiate anything, but even so, it feels like it did.

Because he remembers, back in the day, Evelyn would only sleep so close to him in bed after sex- her afterglow clouding her mind, making her most likely believe she loved him.

He knows she didn't. She only loved what he was bringing to the table.

But you don't care about that. You care about him as a person, and it's evident in how you slowly wake up, barely so, mind probably slipping out of your deep stage of sleep to get ready to become conscious in a few minutes. Eyes fluttering beneath your lids, head so close your forehead is resting against his shoulder, arm laid over his body. Even one of your legs is entangled with his, feet nowhere near as cold as they were when you'd slipped under the blankets last night.

You're so peaceful like this. There's not a hint of worry on your face.

His face is flinching a bit as he gets reminded of his injuries, while attempting to turn over a bit to hold you- he wants to just forget everything else and bathe in whatever this moment is. But it's somewhat shattered by his phone vibrating and ringing outside in the kitchen- waking you up, eyes slowly opening to look at him.

"Oh.." you mumble, noticing what the sound is, before you turn onto your back to stretch fully, making him both a bit jealous of your ability to do so compared to him, and also feel disappointed that this is now the start to a new day, reality pulling you both back in. "Should I.. uh.." you speak mostly to yourself, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. "..I'll get it for you-" you start, but he shakes his head, instead ignores his painful muscles as he pulls you in, almost on top of him. "Jungkook?"

"No, leave it." He denies, voice raspy and low in tone as it's the first words he speaks. "Stay." He says, taking in a deep breath, smell of both your shampoo and his bodywash filling his mind.

A mixture of both of you combined, creating something new.

Even his own shower products smell oddly different on your skin, and he can't say he's upset about it. If you ever moved in with him, would you decorate the place? Want new furniture, or change the layout of things? He hates when people mess with his stuff, but somehow, he wants you to do just that in here. Give it a distinctive touch of yours, offer him a reminder that he's not alone anymore even if you’re not here.

"Do you want breakfast?" You wonder sleepily, looking at him with eyes barely open.

"Hmhm." He hums affirmative. There's no use in running away from reality after all.

"There was a cat here." You giggle, out of context, but still making him smile. "In my dream." You explain further, yawning, his hand on your back gently running over the skin beneath your shirt. He likes this. No bra straps hindering his traveling hand, your words without filter as your standard amount of fear don't withhold any of your thoughts for now.

"A cat?" He asks, and you nod.

"It was.. brown. And fluffy." You say, resting your face on his bare chest. "It kept jumping on the kitchen counter. And you kept telling it off for it." You laugh. "But it just jumped back on, every time."

"Well, cats are quite stubborn." He tells you, watching the light outside from the sun occasionally change due to the could passing, curtains hiding you both away from the world. "I'm more of.. a dog person."

"Me too." You nod. "But there's a breed of cat that's kind of.. like dogs. Really affectionate. And they meow a lot." You say, stretching your legs for a second. "But they have really long fur. And it's white."

"They must feel very soft though." He chuckles. You nod.

"Yeah.." you admit. "But I'd have to get one of these.. these rollers with the sticky tape. To get all the fur off of your suits and shirts." You giggle. "..Or you might become a walking pet-allergy detector in your office..." you mumble, and he gets the joke-

But he also has to think for a moment.

You, in his bedroom, folding his clothes for him as he prepares for a business trip. You, making sure he doesn't forget anything the day after, kissing him goodbye at the door as you wait for him to return back. You, coming home from your own place of work while he's already home, cooking dinner.

All of the things he's never had.

"Your watch stopped." You notice, tapping on the glass top of it. He'd forgotten to take it off last night, and you're right- the delicate pieces are attempting to move, but the battery seems to be giving up.

"Because of you." He mumbles, leaning over you just a little, body still too sore. "You stop time for me." He smiles, and you giggle, accepting his kiss however before you escape into the bathroom to get ready for the day. And while you might think he was joking, he quite honestly wasn't.

Because time truly appears to become meaningless when he's with you.

He can't help but laugh a little faintly into his hands over his face, for how ridiculous this all feels. Like a crush back when he was still in school, he's excited but also panicking about what to do. He should have this all under control. This isn't his first relationship. And yet, all of this feels new, foreign, unknown.

But also truly exciting.

The anticipation for what might be filling his veins, and fueling his eagerness to show you that what you dream about doesn't have to just stay in your head. You want a cat? He'll get two so they're not lonely, no matter if they shed way too much for his expensive taste in suits and attire in general. You want a dog? Absolutely no issue. He'll get you anything you want, but this time, in your case, he's not doing it to keep you close, to make sure you don't leave-

But because you deserve it. And he doesn't just want to treat you right-

He wants to treat you the best anyone can.

[cheapshrimpysheep]

A Break Under The Lights

SUMMARY: You suggest taking turns for some to rest while others peel potatoes on the boat. You can choose who will pair up with you outside to enjoy the boat lights under the night sky.

CHARACTERS: Port Fest Steering Committee (Floyd, Ruggie, Rook & Jack)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Flirting; Kissing

WARNING: Spoilers from the Port Fest Event; Vignettes from Floyd's Port Wear and Rook's Port Wear

WORD COUNT: An average of 600 words per character.

COMMENTS: I wanted to write something for this event, but I couldn't remember anything. Until I finished the story and saw what they said about the lights on the boat. That was asking to write something romantic about it. I didn't get Jack's card, so I don't know his vignette story. 😔 But I'm pretty happy with what I wrote. 😊

My logic for the order of the characters was: R > SR > SR > SSR

I hope you enjoy 😉

CONTEXT: You were all peeling potatoes in the hold of the boat while talking about the festival. Remembering what they say about the exterior: It’s gotten real quiet since all the guests have gone home at the end of Port Fest.

Ruggie: “The neon lights on the Golden Straw sure are pretty.”

Rook: “Oui, more dazzling then even the stars twinkling in the night sky. I believe they only turn them on for Port Fest.”

Floyd: “So today’s the last day they’ll be on, then.”

Jack: “Yeah. This’ll be our last chance to check them out until next year’s festival.”

And that's why you remembered to suggest that you take turns to rest and enjoy those lights outside. You suggest pairing up and while one pair is outside the other two continue peeling potatoes. And then you take turns. Everyone wants to be paired with you, so they let you choose who you want to be paired with.

“Looks like Koebi-chan is getting slier.” Floyd tells you with that cunning smile of his on his face. You say you don't know what he's talking about, in a tone that shows you're lying. What makes him laugh.

“The break thing was a good idea, thou. I was getting tired of those stupid potatoes.” He walks to the bow of the boat and rests his elbows on the railing as he looks out over the sea below you two.

“I heard you won a music contest.” you tell him, approaching the railing as well. “Congrats”.

“He he. Thanks~ But it was too easy. They were all amateurs.”

“You mean it was a contest for amateurs? And you didn't tell anyone you were already experienced?”

“Nobody asked. Aha ha ha ha.” The disapproving look on your face just makes him laugh harder. When his laughter calms down he adds: “Winning the contest was cool and people applauding me too. But I got pretty fed up with that shoal that wouldn't let go of me.”

“A shoal? Are you talking about literal fish or people?”

“I wish it had been fish. So I could just have eaten them. But no. I'm talking about the people who seen me play the saxophone and have been asking me to keep playing for them.” then he looks at you with that creepy smile “You wouldn't be that annoying, right Koebi-chan~?”

“Awww. I was going to ask you to play something for me. I didn't hear you play in the contest.”

“You saw me play at that concert in the end of Port Fest.” He reminds you. You try to look sad and pout at him. But it doesn't seem to work and he seemingly changes the subject. “What about you? You may not have won first, but I heard that your photo won a good place in a photography contest.”

“Hum? Ah yes. Rook was the one who won first place.”

“And he was the one on your photo, wasn't he?” there was that creepy smile again “It really was a good photo. It deserved the place.”

He gets closer to you. You take a step back and your back ends up meeting the railing of the boat. He grabs the railing, each hand blocking your way out. Looking up you could see his face and the neon lights of the boat above the two of you.

“You took pictures of me too, right?” he was smiling, a little creepily, but he wasn't showing his teeth.

“Of course I took. But I didn't get as good an angle of you as I did of Rook, unfortunately.”

“You have the camera with you, don't you?” He asks. You had. You always carried it with you like a shoulder bag. Floyd lets go of the railing. “So you can take some more now.” His good mood returned in a flash. Mood swinging as always.

You seize this opportunity. A photo of him illuminated by those neon lights at night is sure to be beautiful. You take some pictures of him, until he asks if he can try taking some pictures too. You allow it and hand the camera over to him.

He starts randomly taking pictures, until he stands behind you, with the camera in front of you to take a selfie of you bouth. His chin resting affectionately on your shoulder. He takes a photo. Then kisses your cheek. Takes another photo. And if you turn your head to let him kiss your lips, he'll take one last photo.

Ruggie stretches, his arms up high. “AHHH Freedom... For a limited period of time.” he drops his arms. “Good idea. I really needed a break.”

There are no deckchairs or anything to sit or lie on, so Ruggie just lies down in the middle of the deck with his hands behind his head. “*Sigh* I'm exhausted.” he looks at you standing next to him. “There is enough deck for two if you want to rest too. Didn't you walk around taking pictures? Besides, the neon lights are really pretty seen from here.”

You decide to accept Ruggie's offer and lie down next to him. He was right. Those neon lights with the night sky behind it was really a beautiful sight.

“I heard a photo of yours won a place in that photography contest. Congrats.” he smiles at you. “Did you gain anything else from it?”

“Nah. Just that honourable mention I guess.”

“Not even a free snack? Man, what a prize... You know, if the picture had been of me, maybe I'd have considered giving you a waffle with whatever topping you wanted, for free.”

“Really? Oh, wait. The key word here is considered, isn’t it?”

“Shye hee hee. You're getting to know me too well.”

He's messing with you, so you decide to mess with him too.

“Well, maybe that's why I took that picture of Rook and not of you.”

“Oh yeah?” he sulks a little and his ears tip back. “What did he offer you in return? A bunch of praise?” he looks at you with a mocking expression.

“Better that than a possibility of waffle that in the end I might not even get to have.”

“Fine. I would definitely give you a plain waffle. Better?”

“For free?”

“Yah, for free. Too bad you didn't take a picture of me.”

“Actually, I took some pictures of you too. They just weren't the ones to win the contest.”

“Hmm? Really? Shye hee hee... I can see them?”

You always carried it with you like a shoulder bag. You take it and show the pictures to him. The best one was one you took from him while he was "playing" the broom. He smiles when he sees it. Then he has an idea.

He sits up, while you're still lying down, then turns to you and takes a picture of you. You ask what he's doing as he looks at the picture he just took.

“You have a lot of good pictures of me. It's only fair that I have at least one good picture of you in return. Send me this later will ya? Shye hee hee.”

“Do I still get the free waffle if I send you the pictures?”

“Hey, that was if the photo won something in the contest.” he reminds you. You pout for a second, but accept it. “*Sign* You really are such a goody-goody sometimes.” He leans over and kisses your cheek. “There. How's that for a prize? And for the photos.”

If you say it's not enough, he'll answer with a smirk: “Looks like I'm not the only greedy one here. But that's a higher price. You'll have to let me take more pictures of you in return.”

You agree and he lies down again beside you on deck to kiss your lips.

“Ah, it's so good to be able to enjoy these dazzling neon lights.” Rook inhales as if the scent of the sea is a breath of fresh air. “Merci, Trickster! Et merci for choosing me as your partenaire dans le crime.” he looks at you with his sly smile.

“Crime? What do you mean? Now it's a crime to want a little break to appreciate these lights?” You say, pretending badly that you feel offended. “You yourself said that they only turn them on for Port Fest. We must seize this moment.”

He laughs. “I certainly agree with you.”

You start walking towards the railing at the bow of the boat, leaving Rook behind you. You stop and look back when you hear the sound of a photo being taken. You see Rook holding his digital camera pointed at you and with a smile on his face.

“What are you doing?” you ask

“Exactly what it looks like.” he answers casually “I'm taking pictures of you.”

“Well, yes, I can see that, but what for?”

“Mainly for myself, but if you want me to send them to you it will be my pleasure.” You get flattered and he takes another picture of you. “Beauté~” he whispers to himself before turning back to speak to you. “Unfortunately, I didn't have many opportunities to take pictures of you during the festival. My attention was already quite divided between the food stand and photo ideas for the contest. Although I know that any photo with you as the subject would be beautiful.”

You never know what to say when he starts to praise you like that. He starts walking towards you.

“These lights, this place, this moment are beautiful. And ephemeral. So could I ask you for something très spécial, my dear Trickster?” While one hand holds the camera, the other takes your hand and he leans slightly in a bow to you. “Would you be so kind to model for me on this deck? I'm sure all the photos will be magnifique.”

You take your time to answer, but you end up agreeing. And when you do he kisses the back of your hand. “Merci beaucoup mon cher!”

He asks you to act casually, to lean against the railing as if enjoying the view of the sea, to sit on top of a barrel or even on the deck, to stretch your arms as if you want to reach the neon lights. And every time he comments on how beautiful the photo and you are.

Later, towards the end of the photo session, he takes the hat off his head and puts it on yours. “I had an idea.” And then you see him take off his coat, leaving him in just that tight shirt with the blue and white stripes. He puts his coat on your shoulders like a cape. And keeps taking pictures of you.

“I fear our time is running out.” he says sadly after taking several pictures of you in his hat and coat. “Merci encore, Trickster. Each photo is more beautiful than the last. You were so very kind to let me take pictures of you. I wonder...” he gets closer to you and places his index and thumb on your chin, with that smirk on his face. “what kind of thanks you would most like to get from me.”

If you let him, he will kiss your lips. You will feel the smile on his lips and the adoration he has for you. And you will hear one last sound of a photograph being taken by your side.

“Hey, um, I'm sorry I got you into this mess too.” Jack tells you, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It's okay.” you tell him “Well, I'm not a big fan of peeling potatoes, but at least  it allowed me to be here with you.” you smile at him, and he gets flattered. “This neon lights are really pretty. And you said this will be our last chance to check them out until next year’s festival, right?”

“Yeah, we should make the most of them. I'll just go get us some drinks. You must be thirsty too.” He leaves you on deck for a minute and when he comes back he hands you your favourite fresh juice.

You thank him and show him how very happy you are that he knows your favourite flavour of juice. He gets flattered again while saying it's nothing. You two go to the bow rail. You can see how the neon lights reflect in the sea water.

“I heard you won a spot in the photo contest. I'm no photography expert, but I thought the photo was pretty good. Congrats.” He smiles at you, that big smile like he's proud of you.

“Thank you. And you were amazing on the show.” you see him rub the back of his neck as he thanks you. “I also took some pictures of you, you know?”

“Y-you did?!”

You finish your drink and grab your camera to show Jack the pictures. He is so flattered he could blush. And then you show him one you took from him without his coat "playing" the dustbin. You took the photo from the top, and he was smiling so happily that you tell him it's your favourite picture. You leave him speechless of how flattered you make him. And then you look at the boat with those neon lights at night.

“Hey, can I take some more here?” you ask him. “The deck is so pretty with these lights.”

“You want more pictures of me?! Hmm... I... guess that's okay.” His tail is wagging like crazy.

After taking so many photos of the boys, you've already started to realize that the best photos, especially in the case of people like Jack, are the ones where they are more relaxed, not focusing on the camera. So you chat with him and making him more comfortable, only taking pictures here and there.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” He asks you, more comfortable around the camera. “Could we take a picture together? I would like to have something to remind me of this moment.” he says this slightly embarrassed.

You agree and even say it's a great idea. You would love to have a photo with him from that moment too. You decide to put the camera down to take a self-timer photo. But then you think that maybe it's a good idea to let the camera take several pictures, remembering that the best ones are the ones you forget about the camera. And you tell Jack that.

For the first photo you have one arm around each other. Then Jack remembers to take his hat off and put it on your head. He laughs at how cute you look in such a big hat. After that he ends up doing the same with the coat when he sees that you seem to be getting a little cold. It's also way too big on you which just makes you look even cuter in his eyes. His tail goes back to wagging wildly.

You can't take anymore how sweet he is being with you. And you make a gesture for him to bend down as if you were going to whisper something in his ear. But instead, you surprise him with a kiss on the cheek. And he feels entitled to do the same to you.

And if you keep teasing him like this, he'll pick you up so your faces are level and allow you to kiss his lips.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[writerblue275]

Ranking Heartsteel members from least to most dom. (With some explanation) 😏

Inspiration: It just popped in my head and wouldn’t leave so here we are......blame Ezreal.

Genre: Ranking

Category: SMUTTTTT (18+ ONLY UNDER THE KEEP READING. MINORS DNI.)

Gender: I’ll do my best to be gender neutral. I am AFAB, so please understand that’s where my perspective comes from, especially from an anatomical standpoint. That being said, I’ll try to keep language as GN as possible.

TW: NSFW as FUCK. Mentions quite a few kinks: Dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics, BDSM, etc...you have been warned.

Now that we have the logistics out of the way, are we all ready then? Lovely! Let's begin...😈

Important context: There’s an assumption here that everything is consensual. I’d never write anything about non consensual acts. Consent and communication are always CRITICAL. Also, this headcanon primarily applies to an established romantic relationship between member and reader, but I do think there are some things that could carry over into a FWB arrangement or something so have fun imagining that.

Least

- Ezreal

Do you know what’s hilarious? I actually have differing headcanons for Heartsteel Ezreal and like base-skin Piltover Ezreal. (I know Riot said it’s all the same universe and everything is canon, but are you really going to put Heartsteel Ezreal next to base-skin Ez, Debonair Ez, or Ace of Spades Ez and tell me they have the completely same vibes? To use my favorite GIF of Viktor from Arcane:)

But back to the reason we’re here. Let’s bffr, we all know this is the right spot for Heartsteel Ezreal.

He exudes such sub energy lmao. Like that’s baby boy right there. (He LOVES when you call him that BTW.)

You are absolutely going to be the one in control in your intimate relationship and that also includes aftercare. You will be taking care of him.

This chaotic man is a certified B R A T. The BRATTIEST of brats. And you just know it’s all on purpose to get a reaction out of you. 😂

Not shy at all about letting you know he’s needy. I’m not sure Ezreal (in any fucking universe lmao) has a subtle bone in his body. He definitely isn’t afraid to get a little whiny/clingy/handsy (but not like inappropriately so if you’re in public) in order to get his message across.

Likes to try and take the lead when you let him, but eventually he gets tired and you have to take back over.

Could he escape when you tie his wrists to the headboard? Absolutely, but why would he do that when he absolutely loves it? Also loves when you blindfold him. Oh, and he has the BIGGEST praise kink (receiving). Like be sure to tell him how good he’s being for you.

Wants you to use toys on HIM. Be creative and tease the hell out of him. It’s what he gets for being a brat.

He’s absolutely walked into rehearsal covered in love bites before, much to Alune’s dismay, so now you have to be a little more discreet about where you mark him. But believe me, he definitely wants you to.

- Aphelios

I was having such a difficult time figuring out how to classify Aphelios. Like I truly couldn’t figure out if he’d be dom or sub. Then it hit me….

He’s BOTH. The man is a fucking SWITCH. (HELL YEAH FOR SWITCHES.) Still a little unsure if he leans more dom or sub, but my gut is saying a bit more sub, so that’s what we’re going with.

There are days when he gets home and he needs to get his frustration/stress out. Those are the days he’s more dominant. Then there are other days where Phel is just damn tired and needs to be taken care of by his favorite person (you). Those are definitely the days he’s more submissive.

On those days, please pamper this man. He works so hard…

Even if traditional dirty "talk" can't be a part of your relationship, Phel’s a very creative man, as you know, and he will let you know how he feels, whether you're with him or not.

The absolute MASTER of sexting. Like you’ve been in meetings and your phone buzzes, and it’s just your lovely boyfriend texting you the most incredibly filthy stuff. You even had a coworker once ask if you were alright, you were so flushed. But my friend, TEASE HIM BACK. One afternoon Yone had to whack him on the back after he took a sip of water, looked down at his messages from you, and started coughing.

I’ve discussed previously (HERE) that I don’t think he’s had a ton of relationships before you, so I think the broadening of horizons in your physical relationship will take time. Butttttttt…..

This man is a very fast learner. (I’ve said it before and I will say it again: The quiet ones are always the most perceptive.) He knows exactly where and how to touch you in order to hear you gasp and moan. (Your body is an instrument, and as we all know, Phel is GREAT at playing instruments.) As he learns more about you and your body, he is willing to try new things with you. He trusts you deeply.

Whether or not he’s on top, Aphelios likes positions that allow him to see your face, and more importantly to him, allow you to see his face. Because he can’t verbally tell you how incredible you are and how much he loves you in the moment, it’s really important to him for you to be able to get that message somehow, and his face is very expressive. (Especially his eyes.)

Doesn’t matter if you’re leading aftercare or he is, it’s one of his favorite parts. The intimacy between the two of you while in this “vulnerable” state, taking such gentle care of each other, makes him melt. (Despite all the sass and the smolder in photos, he’s become a bit of a romantic.)

(A/N: Ok Yone and K’Sante I could also see being flipped here. I feel like they’re similar in “level” of dom, if that makes sense.)

- Yone

So Yone is definitely where we cross over into members who are for sure more dominant. Like he’d let you lead if you asked, but he’d absolutely be in control most of the time.

Similar to Aphelios, he knows EXACTLY how to read your body. (Those quiet men and their awareness!!!!) An extremely fast learner when it comes to what flusters you, gets you in the mood, and your favorite things he does.

Do not be afraid to be vocal with him. He loves hearing your noises when he does something very right. And he loves hearing you talk (especially when you say his name). He’ll always verbally confirm with you that you’re still enjoying yourself. And don’t worry about being too loud. He’ll soundproof the bedroom if necessary (he knows where to get extra soundproofing foam since he redid his whole studio).

“That’s it, my love…say my name again for me…let me hear you…” (🫠 <- Oh look it’s me!)

I ranked him the most romantic member for a fucking REASON (though I still think him and Sett are basically neck and neck). I think what really takes Yone up in the romance arena are his pet names for you (HERE).

There’s no one better to create mood music. And you know he puts in EFFORT. Along with mood music, I can absolutely see him giving you roses and slow dancing around your apartment to just set the VIBES. (Fucking immaculate vibes right there.)

While I can’t see Yone having too many “wild” kinks or fantasies, one that I absolutely can see him enjoying is shibari. Of course he’s very gentle and makes sure you’re not too uncomfortable (this sweet sweet man).

As I said earlier, he definitely likes to hear you, so dirty talking (both giving and receiving, but especially receiving) is for sure a big kink of his. And you love when he murmurs/whispers the sweetest yet dirtiest things into your ear.

Primarily prefers positions where he can see your face, but I also think surprisingly he’d like to hit it from behind. Especially when shibari is involved.

Very very sweet with aftercare. He thoroughly checks you over, making sure you’re feeling alright, and wipes you down before whisking you away to a bath. That’s when cuddly Yone comes out and he’s not leaving your side for the rest of the evening.

- K’Sante

K’Sante? He knows how to treat a partner RIGHT. He’s setting the mood throughout the entire fucking DAY. But you know what makes it even better? It doesn’t even have to be a special occasion. It could be a random Thursday and he’s still going all out.

I suppose that makes him the king of foreplay since he knows how to play the long game. This man is a PATIENT dom. What a fucking tease omg. (Those are his biggest kinks btw. Foreplay and teasing (both giving)).

Buys you a full outfit he knows (not thinks, KNOWS) will look incredible on you. Includes lingerie if that’s something you like. Of course he’s right. It really did look great on you and you got so many compliments that you couldn’t help but feel amazing and sexy. He also takes care of any small things you usually do so you can focus on yourself.

Sending you texts that gradually get flirtier and spicier throughout the day. Might even leave you a voice message or voice mail (with a text warning first to use your headphones because he’s smart like that).

All of this makes it so you’re ready to pounce on K'Sante the second he gets home. You’re ready to climb this giant man like a fucking tree.

That’s EXACTLY what he was trying to do. He can’t help but chuckle as he carries you to the kitchen instead of the bedroom, ignoring your complaints. He just smirks widely down at you once he sets you on the counter and softly but confidently, brooking no argument, says, “Not on an empty stomach, baby. You and I both know that’s unwise.” (He’s absolutely right.)

But worry not. The fun starts after you finish the delicious dinner he made. He’ll put you right back on the counter and enjoy his “dessert” first. 😉

Eventually though, even the master of the long game finally loses his patience (he played himself just a little bit). I think because of that, he’d be just a bit rough with you (though of course nothing that you dislike). You’re up against the wall/door of the bedroom as soon as you enter. When K'Sante doesn’t play the long game, I definitely think he’s much gentler and more romantic with you. Even without the long game he’s still definitely a fan of foreplay like oral or toys. He’s making sure you’re prepared for him.

Loves positions where he can show off his strength. He works hard for it, and what better way to reap the benefits than to use it to make you feel good? Loves anything that involves carrying you around.

I can totally see K’Sante being great at aftercare. He’d heat up some leftover food for you and get you a Gatorade (hydration!!!) after helping you clean up. And I fully believe cuddling him is one of the best things ever.

- Sett

Settrigh (that’s right, FULL NAME TO START) is not only dominant as fuck, but he’s one of the most ROMANTIC doms of the group and you will not convince me otherwise.

Outside of the bedroom? You have Sett wrapped around your little finger. This man worships the ground you walk on. (Lucky!!)

But intimacies? That’s his domain. He’s here to give you what you and your body NEED. You just have to give him the keys and let him drive. (“Let him cook” as the kids today say [lmao I swear I’m not even that old]).

When he’s with you, his goal isn’t even to find his own pleasure. Remember when I said acts of service (giving) is one of his love languages? 😉 (Same headcanon linked in Phel's.)

His goal? To make sure you feel loved/give you as much pleasure as you want. THAT’S how he finds his pleasure, knowing you’re feeling out-of-this-world because of what HE’S doing.

The master at creating romantic ambience. An incredible homemade meal by candlelight, a rose petal trail/petals covering the bed, special surprises (toys, lingerie, candles, music), and many other things to help set the mood.

Sett is extremely tall and very strong (I mean duh, pit fighter) and he loves pulling you into his lap for a make out session.

Praise kink, both giving and receiving. Loves telling you how good you are for him, how incredible you feel. And when you breathlessly tell him he feels perfect and beg him not to stop? That’s the shit he LIVES FOR. Absolutely loves the sounds you make. To likely no one’s surprise, I do think he has at least a little bit of a breeding kink.

Because he is a romantic, he likes to see your face. Loves watching your expression as he brings you bliss over and over and over again. (“Eyes on me, kitten. That’s it…you follow my directions so well, love…”) Also loves oral (giving). It’s one of his absolute favorite things in this world. Please PLEASE sit on his face, he loves it.

A KING of aftercare. Like Sett spoils you absolutely rotten. You don’t even have to lift a finger as he gently wipes you down with a warm wash cloth, carries you to a bubble bath where he cuddles and cleans you himself, and grabs you all the water and snacks that you need as soon as you’re cozy in bed again. He sets the bar SKY HIGH.

- Kayn

If you don’t think Kayn is very much on the dominant side, I don’t know what to tell you because have you SEEN HIM? The confidence. The energy. His SMIRK. This man is in full control and he KNOWS IT.

Will let you be in control every now and then when you request, but he’s definitely the main one who is in charge. And honestly he’s so good at his job that you’re very happy with your arrangement.

Loves buying you lingerie (so he can rip it off you later). If you surprise him by waiting in bed wearing just lingerie that he bought you, Kayn will go FERAL.

HICKEYS. This man is shameless when it comes to marking you. And he loves feeling you mark him, but of course because of his profession, you’re a bit more limited on where you can mark him. He needs to be able to cover them.

He is kinky as hell. Hair pulling, BDSM, edging, toys, and more. Dirty talk KING. Like I don’t think he’d shut up. Murmurs the filthiest shit in your ear. With your consent he’d also take photos and videos, but of course they’re on a completely separate phone that only you two know about/have access to (he takes it with him when he travels).

He’s an ass man so any position he can see your ass, he loves. Big fan of oral (both giving and receiving but more so receiving). “You look so fucking pretty on your knees for me, Angel…”

Of course Kayn’s not a jackass. If you need to go slower or need more romance he’s happy to give you that. He can be surprisingly gentle and sweet.

And if you ever do need to use it, the SECOND you use your safe word, he stops, murmuring gentle and sincere apologies and affirmations as he takes you through your aftercare routine. He knows he can be rough, since you’ve told him he’s allowed to be, but the very last thing he wants to do is hurt you or go beyond your limits. You’re truly precious to him.

I think he is secretly phenomenal at aftercare. Like you might not think so from looking at him, but he really goes the full nine yards. Warm bath or shower with him, changing into comfy pjs (or not, he leaves it up to you), a massage if you’re sore anywhere, hand feeding you a snack and helping you hydrate, and some damn good cuddles and pillow talk.

Kayn is an excellent dom who cares about your satisfaction and well being in and out of the bedroom.

Most

Thank you for reading! This was so fun to write. I'll be honest, I even managed to fluster myself! 😳😂 Maybe I’ll have to do like NSFW A-Z for each member. Here’s a small glimpse into my internal and external reactions as I was writing for each member!

Ezreal: *Smirking, giggling, kicking my feet* (He’s who inspired this entire post tbh.)

Aphelios: *Eyes widening in realization and blushing*

Yone: *Sighing and swooning*

K’Sante: *Biiiiiiiiiig smirk*

Sett: *Melts into a god damn puddle*

Kayn: *Screams into the void because HOLY SHIT??*

[matchingbatbites]

2112 Days | Ao3 link

tw: memory loss

When Steve wakes up in the morning, he doesn't know where he is. The last thing he remembers from the night before is the party all piled up in his living room, everyone too anxious to sleep, and now he's in a bedroom that he has absolutely no memory of.

He looks around the unfamiliar room, tries to get a sense of what the fuck is going on, and on the nightstand next to him, he finds a tape recorder sitting on top of a photo album. On the tape recorder is a sticky note, with the words 'play me' written across the yellow paper in scratchy handwriting.

Steve is so confused and frustrated, he doesn't have time for this, they have a plan to carry out. But something deep inside him keeps him in place. Tells him to play it. He picks up the device and sees another note on the album, this one reading 'open me', and he presses play on the tape recorder before grabbing the book. 

There's a little bit of sound fuzz before a voice says "Good morning, Stevie!" and Steve blinks, because that's Eddie's voice. 

"Today is Saturday, August 29th, 1992, and it's been 5 years, 9 months, and 12 days since we killed Vecna and closed the gates permanently." 

Steve's hand jerks out and stops the tape, his breathing picks up because what the fuck? That can't be right, they're supposed to fight Vecna today. That's why they all stayed at Steve's house. One more sleepover, one more chance to be there for each other before they have to split up, before they have to finish the job.

He takes a moment to just breathe, lets the words sink in as he opens the photo album. It takes him a second to realize it, but the first picture is of himself, in a hospital bed, bandages wrapped around his head and a tube down his throat. He looks bad, and he doesn't remember a single second of it. 

There's more of that scratchy writing just below it. ‘November 20, 1986. Taken by one of Owen’s guys.’ The next page has a doctor's report, and Steve sees the words 'brain injury' and 'short term memory loss' before he continues. 

He flips through the album, sees more pictures of himself that he doesn't remember being taken. Each one has a date next to it, and some have a little description to give him context. There are photos of him with the party, with Robin and Eddie and Nancy, and there are news articles scattered amongst them, important things he should remember, that make his head hurt when he tries too hard to do so.

There are pictures of Nancy and Robin's graduation from college, Wayne's wedding to some woman named Cynthia, the grand opening of Jonathan and Argyle's pizza shop.

A photo of him and Eddie, wearing tacky sweaters and kissing under mistletoe, with the description '1987, Our first Christmas together', and oh, that's something that sends tingles up his spine. He'd had more than a crush on Eddie before their second run in with Vecna, but he hadn't had the courage to do anything about it before they ran head first into danger, again.

Are he and Eddie together now? Like, together together? 

The answer seems to be yes, because the next few pages are just more photos of him and Eddie, most taken by Eddie himself, his arm stretching out to capture the moment. Pictures of their first apartment, multiple anniversaries, the day they got their cat (Lucy is written next to this one in Steve’s handwriting, along with a little heart).

And then a photo that makes Steve's heart stop. It's them again, standing on a beach, hand in hand as they face each other. They're both barefoot, wearing slacks and nice shirts, Eddie's a deep, wine red, and Steve's a soft baby blue, and the love on their faces is blinding.

The description says 'June 15, 1991, Our wedding. Not legal, but very, very real.'

And Steve looks at his hand, for the first time sees the gold ring on his finger, like it's perfectly happy at home there, and he thinks he might start crying.

On the bottom of the page is his own handwriting, a small addition that just says 'play the tape.' Steve glances over, presses play again with a shaky hand, and Eddie's voice starts up once more.

"You got pretty banged up during the fight, and your many knocks to the head finally caught up with you. You have some extensive brain trauma, and your short term memory is basically non-existent.

"It's okay, though. You're not alone, you've got tons of people that care about you, baby. The Upside Down stuff is all over, there haven't been any blips on the radar or anything. The kids are all okay - scattered to the wind, but okay.

"Robin's in town today, we're meeting her for lunch at noon, but you've got plenty of time before then. Finish looking through the album, and as soon as you're ready, come find me in the house. Just follow the sound of music, baby. I love you."

The tape ends, and Steve takes a minute to process. He flips through the rest of the album, pictures dated all the way up to a month ago, when he and Eddie had apparently visited Nancy in New York.

It hits him that this is real, this is his reality. He looks at the tape recorder, thinks that this must be an everyday thing for Eddie, and he's suddenly overcome with emotion for the other man.

He climbs out of bed and grabs the tape recorder before he heads out of the room, hears music coming from somewhere, and follows it to a kitchen. 

And there's Eddie, with his hair pulled up into a messy bun, wearing sweatpants and humming along to the tape that's playing on a nearby stereo. There are more tattoos inked into his skin, more piercings in his ears, and Steve can see that yeah, he has aged a little. 

"Eddie?" he says softly, and the older man turns to look at him with a bright smile. 

"Morning, Stevie. How are you feeling today?"

Overwhelmed, Steve thinks, but he swallows hard and holds up the tape recorder. "Do you record these for me every day?" 

Eddie's smile softens at the question and he motions Steve closer. "You ask me that too often, like you just can't believe I'd do something like that for you."

Steve goes over to him, sets the device on the counter as one of Eddie's hands settles on Steve's waist, the other moving up to cup his cheek. "I can't believe it, it's so-" Kind? Selfless? 

Steve doesn't have the proper word to describe it, and it only adds to that overwhelmed feeling. Eddie's thumb strokes over his cheekbone and he hums softly.

"It's worth it for you, sweetheart. After all the shit we’ve been though, that you’ve been through, you deserve a normal life, and I swore do everything in my fucking power to make sure that happens."

And Steve is definitely crying now. The fact that Eddie has been doing this for almost six years, that he's stayed by Steve through it and hasn't given up on him? The effort he’s put into helping Steve feel somewhat normal? It's too much for Steve to comprehend, and Eddie pulls him into a tight hug, mutters softly softly into his ear as he starts to sob.

"I know, baby. It's okay." 

They stay like that for a while, until Steve's tears slow, then stop, and he's able to breathe normally again. "Sorry," he mutters and scrubs a hand over his face, and Eddie shakes his head. 

"Don't apologize, Steve. This happens sometimes, and it's perfectly okay. It's a lot to process all at once, and we just take it a day at a time, yeah?"

"Yeah, okay," Steve says, and takes another deep breath. He thinks back to the album, to the photos of him and Eddie, and he knows exactly what he wants in this moment. "Will you kiss me, please?" 

And Eddie smiles, says "Of course, honey." 

It feels right when Eddie kisses him, and it's weird, because he doesn't remember ever kissing Eddie before now, but it's like his body does, like it knows all of the steps to this dance that his brain can't remember. 

They stay in the kitchen for a while just kissing and talking, Eddie answering all of Steve's questions with such patience, until it's time to go meet Robin.

-

Later that night, just as Steve is dozing off, he feels Eddie pull away before getting out of the bed. 

"Where 're you goin'?" he mutters, and Eddie cards a hand through his hair. 

"Gotta go record your tape for tomorrow. Just go back to sleep, baby." 

Steve hums his disapproval and hears Eddie chuckle, before a kiss is pressed to his forehead. "I'll see you in the morning, gorgeous."

-

When Steve wakes up in the morning, he doesn't know where he is.

[yooglefics]

Reveal — Part two: editing

Pairing: Yoongi x fem!reader ( camboy!yoongi x camgirl!reader )  Wordcount: 1,735 words Genre: 18+, mdni, remainder to not use fanfics as your only source of sex ed. Summary: Yoongi is just helping a friend help you, but is he even supposed to listen to this?. Part 2 of Reveal: recording. Read it for context. This is just why and how we got to that ending. More warnings under read more.

Includes: Mentions of selling sex content. People recording sex acts. Mentions of sexual activity ( doing things and also talking about doing things and thinking about doing more things ). Mentions of past and not past masturbation ( f and m ).  Dirty talk? I guess?. Sprinkle of possessive yoongi? Is not my fault i sweaaaar Author's note: Remember when I started writing something short and silly lmao, what a time. Btw, I have never used OF so if something I say about how they use the website is actually not true / completely wrong just pretend please lmao. Anyway, I thought it'd be fun to write Yoongi's side, hope you like it! If you do please remember to leave a comment, reblog, ask, follow and what not. Thank you for reading <3

Saturday is probably Yoongi's favorite day of the week. No waking up early, no work, and not worrying about having to do any of those the next day.

That's why he groans when his phone rings with messages from Jungkook. He knows is him because he is the only one who still insists on sending him a million messages instead of just one. 

Love the guy, but he can be annoying.

The fifth ring comes and hopping is the last one, Yoongi finally reaches for his phone and rolls to his back. 

JK: hey JK: are you awake? JK: and free today? JK: i need a favor JK: yoongi?

Yoongi: with what? If I have to leave my house is probably a no.

Both of them know that actually, even if it ruined his plans of relaxing, he would say yes. Because that's what friends do.

JK: no no. You can do it at your house  JK: I need to edit an audio for my friend JK: but I'm on the schedule today JK: and if I don't send it back quickly she will back out JK: please? 

Yoongi: ok. Send it to me. Yoongi: you own me, tho.

Throwing his phone on the bed, he gets out of it to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, getting ready to sit in his studio for at least an hour. He knows is probably a bit extra to use his expensive equipment for whatever this favor is, but if he is going to help, he is going to do it right.

Opening Jungkook's messages on his laptop, Yoongi almost wants to laugh at himself.

JK: [ killmepls.mp3 ] JK: is and OF thing, btw JK: don't listen to it in public lol

Yep, definitely Poducer Min equipment is too extra for this. But, fuck it.

The archive is already downloaded when he opens the software, starting a new project and naming it the same as the audio plus final, to not get confused. Plugging in his headphones he starts playing it, already noticing whoever this is, is pretty quiet at the beginning and he would most likely have to cut it off, still, he listens to make sure.

A few taps followed by a “hi..” is the start, and he chuckles at their giggles.

He decides to let that in, but cuts the next few seconds where only their breathing can be heard along with some clicking and fabric moving. Is too long of a pause for this kind of thing and the clicking gives a way they weren't ready to start. Sure they wouldn't mind.

They put music on? It sounds familiar but is pretty fade out, so he can't really be sure, and then “This angle is kinda…” 

That's him.

That's his voice.

“Hot,” the voice continues before he can rewind.

“You can't tell me I'm mean anymore. I'm spoiling you,” his own voice travels again on his headphones. “I'm giving you this view and I'm giving you what's probably the thing you all ask the most: hands.”

What is this? Some kind of joke?

Did Jungkook put them up to this?

“I hate him. I'm gonna sue him,” 

That gets a laugh from him, even if he is still confused about what is happening.

Maybe it's just his imagination?

Should he ask his friend?

More movement of fabric. Maybe bed sheets or clothes. More breathing, a bit faster than last time and then, a groan. 

He can leave that in.

Wait, that's right. He is supposed to be editing this. He has to go back and…

“This angle is kinda…” his voice says and he hits pause. Is really him. Is that possible?

He feels like he is imagining things.

“Jungkook, I swear if this is some kind of joke or something,” he rambles taking his phone out.

Yoongi: did you listen to it?

JK: no, didn't have time JK: why? something wrong? JK: don't tell me it can't be used JK: she is gonna be sad :(

Yoongi: who is she?

JK: dunno if i can tell you 

Yoongi: technically I'm doing a favor for her. I think is fair 

JK: good point JK: is afterhours(y/n)

He opens a new tap on his laptop, goes to the website and searches for the username through his followers. And sure enough there it is. Subscribed a month ago.

He clicks to see your perfil. The first post he can see without being subscribed is a picture of a lilac lingerie set on a bed with the caption “very early birthday present”, from a week ago. 

He considers subscribing to see more, but he stops himself from clicking, remembering Jungkook didn't even want to tell him who you were. Oh, shit. What would you do if you knew it was him editing your audio? Would you back out? Or be sad?

Now it feels kind of wrong, like if he were invading your privacy.

He clicks around on his computer again, audio track back to the zero seconds mark. He hears the “hi” and the giggles and stops it before his voice appears. 

“Okay, this is going to be posted. It was recorded with the intention of being posted for people to hear,” he reasons. “If it's not posted I'd just forget about it and if it is… I'd… subscribe? To make up for listening?”

Clearly that part is not completely made up on his mind, but he doesn't have to decide what to do right now, he has to finish editing. And so, Yoongi clicks around the software again, cutting and deleting another section, the one where you can hear his voice and even his music before.

That's it. It was a familiar track because it is his. He composed that himself to put in the background of his videos exclusively. He figured putting his own touch would help if something was posted outside his page, never imagining hearing it in the background of someone else's video or audio was even possible.

It shouldn't affect him this much. After all, people touching themselves to his videos is half the reason he likes making them. What can he say? Is a turn on to have that effect on others, it builds his confidence up.

But actually hearing it is different. 

Groan and fabric moving, a bit too close to the mic he considers doing something about it, but “I want you to touch me,” is the perfect whisper. Just the right volume, just the right words.

No more audio of SugaD can be heard now, you probably turn down the volume of the video or pause it. Yoongi is curious about it. The idea of your sounds being a reaction to his past self is doing things to him, and Yoongi would like to ignore them before getting too distracted, but is kind of a boomer not knowing exactly what your reactions are for.

Maybe he can open his video, it wouldn't be hard for him to synchronized it with your audio and—

No.

That would cross the line. Is enough that he—

“Are you hard?” your voice continues, timidly he thinks. 

Is this your first time doing this? That's why you couldn't edit yourself?

What would you do if you knew he was listening and his dick was calling for attention at all your little sounds?

He stops your recording, considers taking a break, going back to bed. But he knows just forgetting about this would be hard and in the end he would have to come back and finish helping.

He unpaused it.

More moans echo throughout his headphones and he fixes them on top of his head, as if that would help him concentrate. You just sound so pretty, and when you plead he wants to give you anything you ask for, his dick twitching with desire.

He could just— no. That'll be wrong. Is enough he is letting it affect him this much, he can't just—

His leg bounces under his desk, hand glue to his mouse even when he is just listening now. Only stopping and going back a couple times to fix the volume of background noise, making it less or more obvious depending on the flow or your moans.

A groan of his own cuts the silence in his studio when you form words again. “It feels so good, oh god.” And Yoongi wishes he knew what. Wishes he could see you, could touch you. Could make you sound and feel that good in person.

“Uh uh,” short moans leave your lips, and it sounds so much like you're agreeing with his thoughts he really considers sneaking a hand down his pants. Allow his mind to wander and imagine what you would look like under him. Or on top. Or just coming undone by him.

But he doesn't. He just listens to your recording, your breathing, your pleas and your cut out warning when you cum.

“Fucking hell,” Yoongi angrily whispers. And for a second he considers doing the SugaD special of cutting it out of the final audio, but that's too selfish.

Or perhaps is more selfish leaving it. Considering he wants the world to hear how you sound when listening to him.

Yoongi managed to leave the studio without touching himself. But is not really as impressive as it sounds since his hand is on his dick the minute he goes back to bed after listening to the final edit of your audio one last time. The excuse of being just to make sure is perfect is just that, an excuse. And your pretty sounds replay on his head while he jerks off until orgasm.

JK: thank youuuu JK: she says thank you too!

Does that mean you know he was the one editing it?

He opens the app on his phone, looks for your perfil again and debates a couple minutes his options. 

What's the worst that can happen? You blocking him? He would understand, but if he actually doesn't do anything, doesn't play his chance, he wouldn't forgive himself.

And so, he subscribes. Page refreshes instantly and a new post greets him.

[ afterhours(y/n):

Surprise, surprise. Is my birthday month but I keep spoiling you, ain't I the best? 😝 

      [ VoiceReveal.mp3 ]

                                                                         ]

Doesn't even have to listen to it, his fingers move on their own, “the cutest”, he comments.

♡ Tag list: @m00njinnie , @sexytholland , @seoullove96 , @thelilbutifulthings , @disneyprincessshuri ,

( is hereee! I appreciate u guys hehe <3 ) ( if anyone else wants to be tagged in the future, let me know )

➪ Part one. | ➪ Part three. | ➪ Updates for this verse | ➪ Ko-fi

➪ Main masterlist. | ➪ Updates in general | ➪ Request & chats ♡

[darylsfavoritegirl]

Can you do a Daryl fic where you fuck and then he says he’s not into labels :( and it makes u sad and comfort

I love this idea !!! lesss goo

A/N: Sorry if these are taking longer than you thought!! im putting myself all in between the breaks i manage to get from school lol. I liked this personally, not sure if i managed to put out a good "comfort" though but there you go anon!

Your eyes flickered at Daryl's scars covering his entire back alongside of his tattoos that looked very much like to having been done by an amateur. You had been wondering their story for a long time now, yet never had the courage to question him vulgarly.

You moved your legs restlessly under the thin sheets, feeling his seeds sticking to your thighs and dripping onto the bed.

He was never at ease with such things. From the very beginning of your "relationship" that is, just warming eachother's bed on these aggravating days of the apocalpyse, where former human beings becoming foes to the geniune humanity. Hence, you always had to wait for him to leave first. There'd be nights so lewd, so scarlet that he'd feel adequate enough to let his guard down now and then. He'd fall next to you on the bed. He'd try to maintain his heaving chest as he'd cover up his downer body with sheets and would just lie down, your bodies so close to eachother, so warm that you'd feel sheltered against his bare skin. And then, he'd bend down to grab his denim jeans and take out the pack of cigarattes you'd looted from a walker's jackets earlier.

At times, there'd be enough to last you a week but at other times there'd be so little amount that you would share one. He would pass a cigaratte to you that he had taken a long drag of. You'd draw the cigaratte to your lips, savoring the tip of the cigaratte he'd moistened with his lips.

But on this specific night, both of you were high on joints. These thoughts entangled your mind as your attention shifted on the flexing muscles on his back while he put on a t-shirt.

You spoke your mind, without giving it a second thought nor being aware of his upcoming run with Glenn and Rick tomorrow early in the morning.

"Why don't you sleep here?" You uttered low, tracing your knuckles across the downy sheet incase he'd turn to face you, you couldn't dare.

"Why, are ya need in company?" He grunted in a headlessness manner as if to drop a joke. You despised how he practically didn't pay any attention to it.

You felt blood rushing to your face. The humid already made it unendurable to stay under the sheet and now this. You took deep, instable breaths.

"No." Your voice was unexpectedly trembling slightly. You shook your head as you scoffed. Now, he was facing you.

"It's just..." You were already in remorse, wishing you hadn't even started this conversation in the first place. You bit the inside of your cheek as you cracked your knuckles out of apprehension.

You felt his piercing gaze sticking upon your forehead, yet you rejected to meet with his gaze until you found something to say that didn't make you look, perhaps, desperate.

"It just gets lonely in this side of the prison." You uttered, finally lifting your head to see him buckling his jeans. You had expressed this countless times in conversations with a different context. Rick had decided to put you in a cellblock away from the others when you first joined them and he didn't change his decision ever since.

"Gon' ask me ta snuggle, too?" He quipped, a subtle sly smirk played on the corner of his lips. He tapped on his pockets as he scanned the small cell for his belongings that he might've dropped.

A sense of indignity overwhelmed you, leaving you feeling overstimulated. You couldn't grumble. He wasn't a boyfriend that owed you courtesy after screwing your brains out. He wasn't someone like that after all. Nonetheless, you loathed at the thought of a huge difference between men and women. How insensitive they could be, how insensitive he could be.

You were very well aware of your relationship, you'd both made it clear to not turn this into anything it wasn't. However, you couldn't resist the longing yearning in your heart.

"Jerk." You simply said as you turned your back to him. You placed your hands under the pillow, resting your head on it. All those thoughts, yet "jerk" was the only thing you made it through your lips. You locked your eyes on the shabby wall, slowly breathing as all you were hearing was his movements behind you. He was so dazed that he couldn't comprehend you nor your course of actions.

"Got'a get sum' shit done in the mornin'." He spoke to himself as he was wearing his leather boots.

"Ya know, with Glenn n' Rick." He added followed by his grunts as he leaned forward to tie his bootlaces.

"The sun shines on this side of the prison, too. You know?" You uttered quietly. Your tone must've caugh his attention as he stopped tying his laces and leaned back on the chair bit by bit. He sighed as he rested his hands on his knees.

"What the hell 's dis all 'bout?" He spoke low with an irritated tone. He scowled at not getting an answer from you.

You wrapped your hands around you, staring at him with softly quaking brows. He stood there with a clenched jaw, eyeing you with squinted eyes.

"Now ya dun' talk?" He spat, chewing his bottom lip as he grabbed his jacket on the bedside table.

"Ya damn well kno' how ta kill a good night." He scoffed derisively, hearing a exasperated sigh from you.

He turned his head to you, giving you a spine-chilling glare.

"Don't ya?" His voice grew taller as you observed the vein throbbing on his neck.

"Keep it down." You exclaimed, shifting your position on the bed in a rush. The bed sank under the weight of your knees as you incompetently tried to cover yourself with the sheets.

His eyes flicked through your bare body for a brief moment as he forced himself to look you in the eyes. You felt subjected to his deviant gaze, a sense of shame flooding your every cell.

"Nah." He firmly uttered.

"Rick threw ya in dis cellblock for a reason." His tone above a whisper.

" 'Cuz ya stir up sum' drama."

"All the damn time."

"Dun' miss a chance, like clockwork."

He locked his eyes on yours. Dark shadows roaming his face. Your face got hot as you had to wait to process his words, what they could've meant.

"Those joints have caused you a mental block." You hissed, not understanding even a bit why he would've say something like that.

"Fuck off." You shrugged your shoulders as you threw your body on the bed, leering at the ceiling.

"It ain't tha'." He uttered, you could sense him leaning against the wall.

"Then what? All this because I asked you to sleep with me?" Your hands met over your chest, crossed. You could hear his shallow breaths, contemplating the best thing to say. You knew he'd fail. A moment passed as neither of you spoke. He took a deep breath

" 'S cuz ya wanna go for childish fantasies." He grunted.

"Like 's sum' kinda game." He spoke, one could sense the palpable thickness of weariness in his voice. It was like he had questioned it a thousand time before you even brought it up. His heavy words lingered in the air, unraveling all the things he never even told you. You could sense it.

"It isn't." You abruptly begged. You needed him to know that you understood his way of seeings things, his way of seeing you. You knew you shouldn't corner him. You didn't.

"Forget it." He huffed with exhaustion as he left the cell.

"Night." You mumbled, knowing he didn't even hear you. You didn't even bother to get up and grab your clothes lying on the floor as you were nothing but flabbergasted. Your eyes were glued to the ceiling, hearing the cicadas singing outside of the prison.

A tear rolled down to your temple and your hand shifted to the side of your face reflexively. You sniffed your nose and shook your head in apace. You got up slowly, sitting on the edge of the bed fully naked. You sticked your eyes to the wall infront of you, fearsome of even uttering a word to yourself in this godforsaken cellblock.

You reached your hand to the panties he threw to the floor as all you could hear was muffled conversations from people on watch. You exhaled, the futile argument which broke out of nonsense didn't support your brain to not grow more lethargic thanks to the joints.

The world around you started to spin, leaving you out of kilter as you had to screw your eyes shut. You wore your bra and as you were done with clasping it, you drank what felt like a gallon of water.

You topped it with a dirty t-shirt and left your body uncovered to the humid of the south on your bed.

What did he think? That you were gonna be just fine with just fucking. How long before you started to feel things, that you wanted more.

You blamed yourself, too soon you thought. Maybe it wasn't. There was no way to know.

You woke up to the sun breaking through your eyelids. You fell asleep to overthinking hence the penetrating headache. You swallowed dryily as you tossed your body to the water bottle next to you and gulped it down agressively to a point where it dripped down your neck to the floor.

You spent your day within the fences of the prison casually, helping people run errands and talking about the run three of the solid men in your group went.

You were in the hall where you kept your food in, cleaning your pistol and weapons so that they're more handy. You furrowed due to your focus on the weapons when you heard a few sighs out of relief drawing near to the hall.

You lifted your head, awating to see who it was with your growing curiousity. Your face loosened at the sight of Daryl and lowered it to your weapons once again, exhaling subtly.

He put his crossbow and poncho on the table, fixating his eyes at you. You wrinkled your forehead, trying to ignore his existence but you were only growing to be distracted even more, with him standing there and observing you.

You suddenly lifted your gaze, exhaling exasperatedly with your hands sagging between your knees. Dirty rags and utensils accumulating a thick layer of dirt on your hands.

You squeezed your eyes shut for a second, sighing dramatically.

"...What?" You huffed, wishing nothing but to be left alone.

" 'M sorry." He muttered under his breath, making it impossible to be heard.

"You're what?" You let out a frustrated growl with his fancy words.

" 'Bout last night." He shrugged his shoulders indifferently, concealing every bit of an emotion peeking on the way.

"What about it?" You forced a downward smirk, trying to seem cool.

"C'mon." He simply said, looking rather bewildered with you. He looked as if he didn't know where to put his hands or what to do with his body.

"Your fine." You huffed, focusing on the weapons.

"I's bein' a dick 's all." He begged, taking a step towards you.

"Yeah you were." You scoffed tauntingly, not looking at his direction. You observed his boots and exhausted steps drawing towards you as you maintained your focus on the dirty rag in your hand.

"Ya kno' I'ma set things right." He was so near you that you had to raise your head to look at him. You were sitting on the frontstep of smaller cellar in the hall, he looked down at you. Your eyes filled with a flamey look as he stayed put.

"Per usual." You forced a sham smile, wishing he'd sense the sarcasm in your tone.

Seeing that he wasn't getting out of the way, you instantly got up as you rolled your eyes. You leered at him.

"Will you please get out of my way?" You hissed, maintaining a stern eye contact like a rock.

He remained silent without blinking.

"Dun' do dis." He mumbled.

You felt heat rising to your head, slowly gritting your teeth.

"So now it's my fault?" You barked between your heaving chest. You digged your nails into your palm, your face getting redder each second.

He remained silent once again as he placed his burly left hand to your waist, burying his forehead on your shoulder. As you were at the brink of pushing his body, hands softly grabbing him by the shoulders.

"A herd nearly took us out today." He breathed against your skin.

Your hand fell loose down his body as your eyes widened and you let out a soft sigh. His hair tickled under your chin as you felt him breathing shallowly against your skin. Your eyes fixated on the entrance gate as you didn't know what to say or do.

You felt your eyes twitching along with your bottom lip as his hot breaths send shivers down your spine, your body flooding with goosebumps.

"Almost got Rick." He added after a few second that felt like a decade.

"I'm sorry. I- I-" You made it out through a shaky voice as he lifted his head, his hand still gripping your waist.

"Ain't yer fault." He slowly ambled toward the table where he left his crossbow on.

"Jus' made me get mah head al' together." He spoke as if there was no one in the hall. He slunged his crossbow on his body and rubbed his face as he let out a frustrated sigh.

"There ain't no reason ta be a damn douchebag." He added, eyeballing you as he placed his hands on his hips.

You were left with thousands of feelings, thoughts lining in your head leaving you stay put like a statue with no form of life whatsoever. Your brows were raised, lip bottom still trembling yet you managed a hold on it. He threw his poncho on his shoulder as he got close to the hall gate.

"Come to my cell tonight." You insisted with soulful, intense eyes right before he left.

You saw him nodding his head discreetly as he chewed on his bottom lip.

[fanficsbyme-causeimgay]

Disclaimer: Image this in the Van Helsing werewolf design, please. I love that movie.

Imagine, if you will, the full moon.

Now— you were never superstitious or believed in the supernatural, but when it is running at you on all fours in the darkness of the street, with sharp white teeth and with a single red glowing eye? Then, you do believe in the supernatural. So you do the sensible thing: You forget about putting the trash out, closes the door, and says, "Nope!" Before simply locking all doors and windows.

You stay in your room, door locked and under the blankets, just to make sure nothing bad could get you— After all, monsters don't fuck with you if you got a blanket on, that's the rules! You ignore the weird whining sounds and the weird scratching sounds, and fear gives way to tiredness once the adrenaline fades away.

You wake up the next day, believing the whole thing to be a nightmare, a figment of your masochistic mind paying tricks on you.

Werewolves don't exist!

But neighbors do. And you got a new one!

The first time you met was just a tiny little bit surprising, but normal when context was given— His dog ran into your porch. He had this beautiful Black Labrador that had a harness that read [Service Dog] on it, and her collar had [Leyla] written on it. And she was looking for something? She was sniffing everything around. Apparently, she was a new dog and was still being trained, which explained a lot about her behavior.

"Oh, hi- I apologize for Leyla!" He was tall. Definitely taller than you. Maybe 6'6? The most striking thing about his appearance was the eyepatch on his left eye, a plain black one. He walked with a limp and had a darkish green jacket over a plain white shirt and tight shorts. "I'm your new neighbor, Kata." And oh, his voice was just like the best thing you've heard - It was beautiful.

You soon find out that he used to be in the military. He worked closely with the K-9 bomb-sniffing unit to help clean the fields, and sadly, a newly trained dog missed one of the bombs, which led to his incident. He seemed pretty open and sincere when speaking about his experience as a veteran, not shy to express and answer your questions even going further and above.

When asked why, he simply answered: "You just wanted to learn more about me, so I taught you more." With a smile that was, honestly, quite breath taking.

Regardless of your little interactions, nothing seemed to be going on - much to your dismay - because he was clearly very hot and showed interest in you. Maybe it was the "don't ask don't tell" thing that the military has? You felt silly thinking about it, mostly because he never showed clear interest, so you decided not to assume anything of it.

In truth, however, he was unhealthy obsessed with you. He was constantly spending hours of his day listening to your breathing, to your heartbeat, to your little noises that you weren't even aware you made! Did you know you have this habit of clicking your tongue when you're playing games and sometimes something you didn't want to happen happens? Did you know you hum the sound of commercial jingles sometimes? Did you know that when you're asleep, you're quite vocal about your dreams, even if what you're saying doesn't make any sense? Did you know you smell like soft petrichor mixed with tulips and brown sugar when you're relaxed? Did you know he likes to watch you sleep from the window? Did you know that sometimes he breaks into your room while you're asleep and just stands beside you? Did you know he can't control it?

It's in his very nature.

Like humans can't help but breathe, tell stories, eat, and lie - Werewolves can't help but obsess over their Mates. Their Soulmates. Their one and only. Their destined - Call it what you will, but he loves you in ways you can't ever hope to understand... He wants you so badly, you should be happy he isn't laying it thick on you, that he is controlling himself to not jump you and fuck you everywhere, that-

Oh.

The full moon is here.

It happened really easily. You were asleep when you heard a pretty clear and rough sound of snoring, alongside the heavy weight of an arm on you, a weird, smooth, and wet sensation on your neck, and the heat of a body hugging you from behind. You couldn't move your body. Was this sleep paralysis? You look down and see arms of black fur holding you tight, and although you're confused, your mind finds reason: This is just a dream.

Oh, a dream! Of course this is a dream.

You huff... This might not be the exact first time you've dreamed of a big werewolf man and probably won't be the last! What? They're hot!

What was hotter, however, was waking up with a naked man in your bed. It was a shock at first, mostly because you're pretty sure you didn't have Kata sleeping in your bed last night...? Right? Was the dream about the werewolf his brain making up something to summarize or excuse Kata's presence in his bed? Dreams do that sometimes... But hey, looking at that dick was more than enough to make you forget about his presence for a few moments - It was, uhm, quite big.

"My eyes are up here..." His voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and like his tone of voice, he was looking very smugly at you: "Well, eye. Singular." He chuckled at his own words, poiting at his lack of eye - In fact, an unnaturally dark hole was there, almost like darkness originated from it.

You ask him what he is doing in your bed. Naked as the day he was born - but much, much hotter (and legal!)

And that is when he drops the ball.

So... as it turns out, werewolves are real... And they soulmates, and you are Kata's soulmate... Although overwhelmed at first, curiosity overwhelms you because of the fucking implications. What else is real? Magic? Fairies? Wizards!? Do they go to walmart!? Also, do werewolves follow normal wolf biology - Can they smell really far, hear really well, and do they mate for life too? And, also, do they have knots? As a rather curious person, you asked them.

"Well... I can show you." He replied, taking your hand for a moment and hesitating: "I-if you want?" He was rather nervous - the truth is, although he seemed confident, he was quite nervous. A wolf needs to be strong for their Mate. What about him? He is crippled. He is weak. He isn't good enough...

"...show me." Although a bit oblivious to flirting, you wouldn't say no to this.

As it turns out, werewolves do, in fact, have knots. And they can knot even in human form!