#I don’t know how to elaborate on this better but I just know they wouldn’t go a day without fighting over morals or shit like that

[ohitslen]

Knowing in my head that Vashwood would never work out if they were in a sentimental relationship adds a fundamental layer of delusional in my own personal VW experience

[shiny-jr]

from IGNIHYDE

- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Gender-neutral reader.

- Characters: Idia Shroud, Ortho Shroud.

- Summary: (Continuation, after this “we just got a letter, wonder where it’s from”) You have barred them from entering the safety of Ramshackle Dorm, but they are determined to make their words reach you. Which is why the letters begin arriving at your doorstep.

- Note: This seems a little more low-key than Diasomnia, but the obsession is there if you squint. It’s just way more low-key than the previous group. For some reason I feel like I maybe wrote Ortho a little off? Not sure. Feel free to tell me your thoughts.

Diasomnia   |   Ignihyde   |   Pomefiore

The break ends quickly. Too quickly. Before you know it, you’re back in front of the mountain of unread letters that appears even more ominous than before now that you could guess what sort of dark contents they may hold. 

For your own peace of mind, you’ve decided to read only two and then take a pause right after. 

The first of which was just a simple long white envelope. That’s it. There was nothing that stood out about it, no special seal or stamp. It was just the generic type of encasing that made it look like it was some sort of bill instead of a letter containing what was bound to be a message that unsettled you in some way, shape, or form. 

When you removed the letter, you was surprised to see that it wasn’t handwritten, it had been typed and printed out. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who this was from. 

Player, 

I messed everything up.

I don’t even see a point to doing this, writing this for you. I mean, if I were you, I’d never want to see my no-good miserable face ever again. I’d go to every length just to avoid even speaking to me again, and to spite them I’d never even show myself around again. But–– Ortho was making a letter and brought my keyboard to my lap. He said it was worth a shot, and if anything, it could be used as an apology so... sorry.

Any sorry would sound half-assed, considering what happened. It’s not like it matters, since I’m sure you wouldn’t read this. I imagine you would figure out it’s from me, and proceed to tear it up, burn it, whatever. And honestly? Valid. At this point, I’m sort of using it as a vent. Usually, I’d be telling Ortho all this, but all these thoughts I’m having would only bum him out and he’s depressed enough as it is. 

You know what sucks besides all of this? The fact that I genuinely tried. I actually tried to be a help for once, and like it always ends, my attempt to help screwed it up even more. Maybe if I had kept my mouth shut and minded my own business while holing myself up in my room like I always do, things wouldn’t have turned out this bad. If I just did what I was good at, which is nothing, Ortho and I might’ve avoided the shitstorm. Everyone else is currently throwing pity parties and plotting these super over elaborate schemes to try and interact with you by luring you out of the Ramshackle place. 

Ortho’s been coming up with plans too with other guys from the dorms that are just so desperate for your attention. It’s sad to watch, pathetic too, but I don’t have the heart to tell him not to bother with it. And me, I know better. If I were in your position and I saw all these attempts, it would definitely make me extra bitter and just hate everyone even more. Oh, I just remembered something worth mentioning. You may not believe me, I mean, I wouldn’t believe a single word coming from me, but I wasn’t actually going to hurt Grim. You though? Before I knew who you were? Yeah. Don’t get it twisted though, I was just doing it to fix everything until the whole truth got leaked not too long after.

Call me stupid, I guess. When I first saw how others revered you like how a bunch of creepy basement-dwellers look at a pretty perfect idol on a shiny bright stage, it was a major red flag. I wanted nothing to do with you. But when you started worming yourself into my life and I started getting attached, well, that made me a creep too for liking you. Red flags be damned. What can I say? Your presence even through Yuu, made me feel like I mattered, which is something I don’t experience a lot. 

You’d never know it, but I took risks just to be in the same room as your avatar. 

Missing special events on games, losing the chance to catch a concert live on screen, even ditching group calls with teammates and friends... All of that was utterly worthless if I got at least a solid sixty seconds by you. 

Unlike everyone else, I know better than to just show up at your doorstep and beg for forgiveness like some misguided puppy. Malleus and co. have been making sure you’re not disturbed, guarding you like a pack of guard dogs or something, preventing anyone from embarrassing themselves and messing up any further. Ortho said I should at least try to call you, I think he just wants to hear your voice. But why bother? 

Don’t get it wrong, I’m not just letting everything go just like that. As much as I’d like to, and I know it’s probably the “healthy” and “good” thing to do, I don’t want to. I’m not good, you know that already. I’ll keep in the background this time, and try not to mess up again. Although no guarantees, because with my lousy luck, I know something will inevitably go wrong. Don’t worry, I won’t bother you. I wouldn’t want to make the mental image you have of me in your mind even worse, if its even remotely possible for it to somehow get worse. I just can’t let go. Even if you looked at me like trash, avoided me like the plague, or straight up tell me ‘I hate you’ to my face, I still won’t let go. 

And, well, all I can really think of right now besides you, is Ortho. Even if I can’t show my disgraced presence to you anymore, I still hope you’ll see Ortho. At least if Ortho could explain to you that he was acting on my plan, he might get lucky and be next to you again. Maybe. Hard maybe. 

But me? No, I don’t ever deserve to be anywhere near you anymore. For now, I’ll go back to how things were way back... when your vessel hadn’t yet had the misfortune of meeting me and I just watched your every move from monitors like some sort of loser schmuck. 

I think I’ll just imagine how things would be if I hadn’t doomed all my chances. If I had a chance... maybe I would’ve actually worked up the gall to sit next to you, or even look at you, or, hell, talk to you. At least, I’ll always remember when you used your avatar to look at me and it didn’t feel bad... like, almost like you didn’t see me as some lame nobody. That must’ve been my mind just playing tricks on me though, right? There’s no way that happened... 

Enough of this mushy stuff though. I’m sick of it. 

Just throw this in the fire without a second glance. 

Idia Shroud 

In order to get this over as quickly as possible, you decided to continue without taking a breather. The quicker you finished reading them, the better, that way, you wouldn’t even give your mind any time to fully process what you were reading before overwhelming your vision with more lines and lines of words until they became blurred together. 

You wouldn’t stop, because if you stopped, that would be allowing your mind the opportunity to spiral out of control. You needed a distraction. 

This wasn’t exactly the good type of distraction either, it was more like adding gasoline to the fire, but part of you had to know what they would say. No matter what feelings you held, the curiosity outweighed it. 

The second letter is identical to the first, a simple long white envelope with no particularly interesting details about it other than the fact that it had zero stains and no wrinkles on it. It was pristine and clean, not even a drop of ink on it. The insides of the envelope itself were blue, with small white lines on it, but upon closer inspection it became obvious that they weren’t just stripes, they were skull symbols so tiny that it was hardly noticeable. 

Of course, as you expected, the letter inside was not handwritten. It was folded so precisely into thirds, and unfolding it displayed the typed and printed words neatly stacked in indented paragraphs. 

Greetings, Player, 

First, I want to apologize sincerely. 

Secondly, I want to tell you how much I have missed you, and my brother has missed you as well! I don’t believe I can fully comprehend how you are felling at the current moment, and I cannot even accurately guess to what emotions you are experiencing. In my attempt to alleviate the situation, I’ve been running millions of simulations of possible alternative futures in order to take the best route where things might return to a semblance of normalcy. 

Well, a new normal, now that you’re here! However... when each simulation yields a result, I can’t help but feel as if something is wrong. That’s when I realized there was a key component that was off. It was you, or rather, Yuu. We know of Yuu and their mannerisms and opinions, but that isn’t really you. Yuu is a vessel, and extension, that’s partially based off yourself. 

So none of us know the true you. At least, not yet! I’m hoping to change that. Just when I think I’m beginning to understand you, things like this happen. But, that’s what makes you so exciting! There’s always some unforeseen detail and amazing new aspect of yourself to learn about. Once I get a proper grasp on what you’re truly like, I can use that new knowledge to make you happy, just as you made me and my brother always smile!  But also, I want to use it to make it up to you. Honestly, I’m scared that you’ll hate me. In the simulations I ran that gave inaccurate results due to those missing components, nearly all the results had a bad ending... 

I don’t want that. I want to have a ‘normal’ way with you and Idia! A good normal! Like where we might all have movie nights in the Ignihyde dorm with freshly popped popcorn and candies as snacks, or study days when we read over notes and help each other out, maybe you might even be able to convince Idia to leave his room so we can all share lunch in the cafeteria like a group of friends would typically do! That’s what I want! I don’t think I could stand knowing I made you cry or was the cause of your pain. I never hurt you, right? At least not physically. 

Believe me, I had made attempts to meet you. But those in Diasomnia won’t allow it. I was tempted to charge up the technomantic beam installed within my form, but realizing it wasn’t necessary, I didn’t. Idia was right when he didn’t make an effort to even join me, and Malleus Draconia with his own have realized it too. You aren’t ready yet. Even if I’m more than prepared to see you, I can’t rush you. So, I left this letter in their hands, hoping it reached you. If not, there’s no worries. I’ve prepared a dozen more printed copies and if that fails, I’ve created a digital copy! 

Since I couldn’t tell you in person, I’ll tell you through paper... 

I’d like to invite you to formally meet me. I’m even prepared to surprise Idia with this! That’ll cheer him up for sure. You always made him happy, so us properly meeting you would be a dream come true for us both! 

If you’d like to do something upon meeting us, I’ve organized multiple activities for us to participate in. The other first years have reached out and expressed their own desires to make up for the mistakes they made. So, I met with them a few days ago to make plans you might enjoy! These plans are still in the preparation phase, so I can’t reveal them quite yet, but soon I will! 

Anyways, I just wanted to make you aware of this. And I want to say ‘I’m sorry’ even though it feels minuscule to what I’m only guessing must be the strong emotions you feel toward what occurred. But I wanted to let you know that I always want to be your friend, and I always will be, even if you don’t really like me anymore. Friends are supposed to be there for each other, right? So I’ll be there for you now. Remember, I’m a high-tech being, I can be of great use to you if you want! Even if you’d rather just use me as a tool, I would be happy. If you want someone obliterated to ashes or are just looking to answers as to what the weather might be, I would gladly help you with that and so much more! 

And it’s not only me that could be useful to you, my brother can too! Although he probably won’t say it, he depends on you a lot. You’re like a battery to him, you give him the energy he needs. If you’d let him, let us both, we’d be there for you in a zeptosecond! 

There’s one thing I know for certain. You’re the common variable needed for our happiness, no matter the scenario or result, you are a requirement. And I’m certain we can bring you happiness as well. Myself, my brother, and everyone that treasures you, can bring you joy if you allow it. All I want is to see you happy, and everyone else happy as well. So will you please at least consider seeing us again? Soon? Please? 

Hoping to see you soon. 

From your friend, 

Ortho Shroud  

[handmade-witch]

Another round of Incorrect Quotes Generator x Slytherin Boys:

Part 1 ☆ Part 3 ☆ Part 4 ☆ Part 5 ☆ Part 6

Mattheo: Sorry I'm late, I was doing stuff.

Draco: YOU PUSHED ME DOWN THE FUCKING STAIRS!

☆☆☆

Draco: Hey, quick question. How petty am I allowed to be?

☆☆☆

Mattheo: I’m not stupid, you know.

[Y/n]: Well, you’re doing a really good impression of it!

☆☆☆

Mattheo: She's the girl of my dreams!

Theodore: You say every girl is the girl of your dreams.

Mattheo: I have a lot of dreams!

☆☆☆

[Y/N]: *banging a pen on the table out of frustration*

Mattheo: Stop that. How would YOU feel if I banged you on the table?

[Y/N]: I—

[Y/N]: I don’t know the correct answer to that question.

☆☆☆

Draco: I have an idea.

[Y/n]: A good idea?

Draco: Let's not get ahead of ourselves.

☆☆☆

*Draco is laying on the floor with their eyes closed*

Mattheo: Hey, are they sleeping or dead?

Theodore: Hopefully dead, I hated them.

Mattheo: Yeah, me too.

Draco, sitting up: First of all, fuck you guys.

☆☆☆

[Y/N]: That sounds like a terrible plan.

Theodore: Oh, we've had worse.

☆☆☆

[Y/N], texting Mattheo: Text me when you’re home safely.

Mattheo: I’m home dangerously.

[Y/N]: Stop it.

Mattheo: I’m home lethally.

☆☆☆

Draco: Hey, what have you two been up to?

Mattheo: We were helping [Y/N] write their vows, but they kicked us out because Lorenzo was making inappropriate suggestions.

Lorenzo: How is “Theodore, I love your sweet ass” inappropriate?

☆☆☆

[Y/N], talking about Mattheo: Is this a friend of yours, Draco?

Draco: Kind of? Not really. They're in my life and there's nothing I can do about it.

☆☆☆

Theodore: What is wrong with you?

Mattheo: Loaded question. Elaborate.

☆☆☆

Draco: Guess what I'm about to get!

Blaise: On my nerves.

☆☆☆

Blaise: All of your existences are confusing.

The Squad: How so?

Blaise: Your presence is annoying, but the thought of anything bad happening to any of you deeply upsets me.

☆☆☆

Draco: How did you convince everyone to betray me? What did you offer them?

Blaise: I just asked if they wanted to embarass you and they all said yes.

☆☆☆

Theodore: Hey, are you okay?

[Y/N]: Yeah.

Theodore: You don't look okay...

[Y/N]: Then stop looking.

☆☆☆

[Y/N]: Ah ready for another fantastic day of being better than Draco.

☆☆☆

[Y/N]: Kill me nowwwww.

Mattheo: Sorry, no can do. I need your help with my homework.

☆☆☆

Mattheo: Lorenzo! For the love of god, please turn down that music. I have a hangover.

Lorenzo: *blasting the mii theme at full volume* That sounds like a you problem, not a mii problem.

☆☆☆

Draco: You read my diary?

Blaise: At first I did not know it was your diary. I thought it was a very sad handwritten book.

☆☆☆

Blaise: [Y/N] won’t come out of their room!

Mattheo: Just tell them I said something.

Blaise: Like what?

Mattheo: Anything factually incorrect.

Blaise, shrugging: If you say so.

[Y/N], arriving moments later: Did you just say the sun is a PLANET?

☆☆☆

[Y/N]: If you got arrested what would be the charges?

Lorenzo: Theft.

Blaise: Disturbing the peace.

Theodore: Aggravated assault.

Draco: Arson.

Mattheo: All of the above. In that order, probably

☆☆☆

Police: You’re under arrest for trying to carry three people on a single motorcycle.

Blaise, with Theodore and Mattheo behind them: Wait, what do you mean THREE?!

Police: Yes…three.

Blaise: Oh, my God— What the fuck!?

Police: Wha-

Blaise: Lorenzo FUCKING FELL OFF!

☆☆☆

Mattheo: I said ‘No’ to drugs, but they wouldn’t listen.

☆☆☆

[Y/N]: Name a more iconic duo than my crippling fear of abandonment and my anxiety. I’ll wait.

Lorenzo: You and me!

[Y/N]: *tearing up* Ok.

☆☆☆

Theodore: *yawns*

[Y/N]: Yeah, being that pretty must be tiring.

Theodore: Then you must be exhuasted.

Blaise: Will you two shut up? Some of us are lonely.

[atlabeth]

Girl for one get that glass of water! andddd this is a loose request but I LOVE knight Luke and we just gotta see them have that cinderella live action ball scene like romantic dancing maybe the secret garden as well but either way we gotta see these gals at a ball! Have a great day you're an amazing writer!

under the moonlight

fic about the ball

pairing: knight!luke castellan x princess!reader

a/n: thank you so much for this request it is so fucking cute lmao. i changed it a bit to make it work with my vision (bc they wouldn’t really be able to dance at a ball) but the core is that they're dancing together!!! and it is much more intimate and personal lol. here is the cinderella scene that the ask mentioned (and that i took inspo from because it's a beautiful scene lol)

wc: 2.5k

warning(s): basically all fluff

as usual, a mix of hcs and traditional fic!

ALRIGHT LAST TIME WE LEFT OFF princess was dancing with princes during the ball and luke was sulking at his first ever ball accompanying you as a knight 

and thankfully, that all goes okay. 

You don’t get murdered, Luke only goes slightly insane, and you don’t fall head over heels for any royals. 

All in all, a pretty alright night in retrospect. 

But post-ball is rough on both of you. 

You complain about how much your feet hurt from your heels and how uncomfortable your dress is and how your cheeks ache from smiling so much. 

To your surprise, as Luke follows you down the halls, he laughs. 

You stop in your tracks as you whirl around. “And what do you find so funny?”

“Nothing,” he says with a slight smile, almost private. “Just… good to be back with you, princess.”

A small smile of your own starts to creep on your lips. “It was only half the night, Luke.”

“And you have no idea how much I missed you,” he muses. 

You just shake your head and continue walking. “You’re funny.”

(he’s not joking. he’s just going through it now that he’s not training 24/7 and actually has time to feel emotions again) 

You finally get back to your room—thankfully, you got out of any post-ball events with any princes by citing exhaustion, and it’s very rude to demand more of an exhausted lady—and Luke shuts the door behind you as you sink into the edge of your bed. 

“God,” you groan as you immediately peel your heels off, letting out a sigh of relief. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to those.”

“If it’s any help, you looked very regal out there,” Luke says.

“It is my duty,” you say as you smile inwardly. “You looked very knightly out there.”

“And that’s my duty,” he says in kind. He gets a chuckle out of you. 

You begin to take everything off—you undo your hair from whatever elaborate style it was in, you strip your wrists and fingers bare of bracelets, bangles, and rings (though you leave a certain necklace on), you undo parts of your dress. When you take your nightgown from your chest and go behind your folding screen, Luke clears his throat. 

“Princess,” Luke says, “do you want me to—?”

“You can stay,” you say. “I don’t mind.”

And Luke, idiot that he is, gets all in his head. 

(Does she not want me to leave because she doesn’t even see me as someone who could like her like that???) (We’ve been friends for so long, does she just see me as an older brother???) (Does this mean she trusts me or sees me as like. a painting on the wall.) (what the fuck) 

It’s not any of those, poor boy. it’s just that you feel more comfortable around him than anyone because you’ve been around each other for your entire life—he knows you better than anyone. What’s the harm in him being in the room when you’re separated by a folding screen anyway?

but Luke is dramatic and also so fucking insecure when it comes to your feelings for him lmao 

and he has a reason to be i guess?? because at this point while he knows that he has feelings for you (hasn’t fully realized he’s in love) you haven’t realized your own. you just think you have a lingering childhood crush on Luke and it’ll go away as you get older and start being courted 

(spoiler alert: it will not go away.) 

so he gets all weird and silent, giving one word responses as you talk with him, and when you come out in your nightgown you immediately stare him down. 

“Luke,” you said, “what’s wrong?” 

He blinked, as if he wasn’t expecting you to say anything. “Nothing.” 

“Luke,” you repeated. “Come on.” 

“Nothing’s wrong,” he repeated as well. 

You crossed your arms. “Don’t act like I don’t know every single thing about you.” 

“If you do, then you should know that nothing is wrong,” he countered. 

You stared at him for a moment more, then you held out your hand. “Dance with me, then.” 

That actually seemed to throw him off guard as he frowned. “What?” 

“Did you go deaf back there?” you joked. “I want you to dance with me.” 

He managed a smile, though it was slightly awkward. It only made your smile grow. “I don’t dance, princess.” 

“Which is why I’ll teach you,” you said with a nod. “I’ve had plenty of practice.” 

“And I have none.” Luke gestured at his armor. “I’m not exactly suited for it, either.” 

“You can take off your armor,” you said. “It’ll make it all much easier. And a lot quieter.” 

“My job is to protect you, princess.” Luke laid his hand on the hilt of his sword. “I can’t exactly defend you if all the armor’s gone.” 

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly. He really did worry too much. “Nothing’s going to happen here, Luke—not now. I’ll even let you keep your sword with you if it matters that much.” 

He still didn’t seem sure. You inclined your head and took another step forward, still holding out your hand. 

“I’ll count you through it all,” you promised. “And if you like, I can hum one of those orchestra tunes they played earlier tonight. And I promise it’ll make you feel better.”

“...Fine,” Luke relented, and he started undoing his armor. “But you don’t tell anyone about this.” 

“Your secret is safe with me,” you remarked. 

It took a fair amount of time for Luke to get his armor off, but it took just as long for you to get every layer of your ball gown off earlier—and besides, you had endless patience reserved especially for him. The toned forearms revealed as he rolled his sleeves up certainly helped. 

“Are you ready?” you asked as you held out your hand again. 

Luke took it uncertainly. “I feel as if I’m the one meant to be asking you that.” 

“You can lead next time we train together,” you said with a smile. “For now, you’re in my domain.” 

You put Luke’s hand on your waist and reached for his other one, adjusting until it was right, then you looked up at him. “Does that feel alright?” 

His eyes were startlingly dark this close, surprisingly intense. He nodded. 

“Good. I’m going to teach you a few basic steps so you can get used to it.” 

Luke nodded again. You wondered why words seemed behind his grasp. 

yeah girlie I wonder why 

Luke is. not a great dancer 

You’re not surprised, and you don’t say a single word about it as you teach him the basics. he spent his childhood swinging a sword around, and you spent yours learning etiquette and ballroom dances lol 

He steps on your foot about ten times and apologizes like a freak every time, you just laugh and smile and tell him you’re fine. Sure, your slippers don’t provide much protection and Luke’s boots aren’t great against them but you honestly don’t even feel it. you’re too busy getting lost in his eyes lol 

And for someone who spent two years training like an insane person, he gets frustrated very easily when things don’t go his way. 

“How do you do this? It’s impossible.” 

“I learned this dance when I was twelve, Luke.” 

as much as you jest while you’re teaching him the basics you’re encouraging him the entire time because he’s your best friend above all else!!! and you honestly believe he can do anything lmao 

And he’s a quick learner! He didn’t become the youngest kingsguard in history by learning slowly. So soon enough, you’re actually dancing together. 

Luke’s hand on your back feels like the most natural thing in the world, and you can tell he’s actually starting to get a little into it. 

You didn’t have to count your steps off anymore, so you’d switched to humming one of your favorite symphonies from the musicians back in Aurelda. 

Luke is still focused on landing every move, but your lead and the music gives him confidence in this that he didn’t really know he had. He spins you, and you get an idea as you twirl your way to the balcony door. You open it and look back at him. 

“Princess—” Luke starts as he takes a few steps towards you, but you just shake your head with a grin and hold out your hand. 

“Trust me.” 

And he does, somehow. 

You didn’t know what part of himself Luke had to get to in order to actually go along with this, but he allowed you to fully take the lead. His eyes never left yours as you guided him through one of your favorite dances—sometimes you called out whatever move that was coming next, and he would do it perfectly. His instincts and reaction time, sharply honed by his training, actually came in handy. 

“And lift!” 

Luke braced his hands on your waist as he raised you into the air without missing a beat, and you found yourself actually laughing with pure glee as you landed. You grinned at Luke who had a smile smaller than yours, but that you knew meant the same. He glowed with exertion and the light of the full moon shone down on him. 

Angelic was the only word you could think of to describe him. 

“Princess,” he said, bringing you back to the real world, “are we done?” 

“I see no reason not to end while we’re ahead,” you said, slightly out of breath from his lift. “You’re a natural. Are you sure you’re not a prince?” 

Luke’s smile didn’t fully reach his eyes for the slightest moment—he covered it up before you could fully analyze it. “Thankfully, I’m not. Otherwise I would have had to do that all my life like you.” 

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” you said offhandedly. “Especially when you’ve got such a great partner.” 

Luke suddenly lowered himself into a bow, his arm held in front of his chest as he bent over. You couldn’t stifle your laugh in time, but he was smiling when he rose. 

“The only proper way to truly end a dance, so I’ve seen,” he said. “I wouldn’t be such a great partner if I forgot that.” 

You grinned as you took the skirt of your nightgown in your hands and bobbed into a curtsy. “Thank you for the reminder, my lord.” 

A shiver ran through you and Luke’s eyebrows creased. “You should get back inside. You’re not dressed at all for this weather.” 

“It’s simply a night chill,” you said, and you walked over to the railing and rested your forearms on it. “And it’s too beautiful a night to ignore.” 

“It truly is.” 

You heard Luke walk up next to you, so you glanced over. His gaze was only set on you. 

You felt your cheeks flush and you bit back your smile as you stared back up at the stars. For a moment, you stood together in comfortable silence. 

“Thank you for tonight,” you finally said. 

You could hear his frown in his words. “What do you mean?” 

“Exactly what I said.” You leaned a bit closer to the railing, shifting your balance. “Your presence always… calms me. And I was a bit nervous for tonight.” 

When Luke finally responded, it was more restrained than usual. “Why?” 

“Well, I was nervous tonight because you put the idea in my head that I was going to get murdered,” you said wryly. “And your presence calms me because it always has.” 

“So… I made you nervous and calmed you down for what I made you nervous about?” Luke shook his head. “I’m sorry, princess.” 

“Why are you apologizing?” You finally turned to look at him, the smallest smile on your lips. “Anytime I got overwhelmed on the floor, or felt as if I was going to keel over from boredom, I just searched around until I found you.” You shrugged. “The sight of you alone was enough to get me through the rest of it.” 

“And of course,” you tipped a shoulder as your gaze drifted back to the stars, “you danced with me for no reason. That gives you all the good will you need from me.” 

“It wasn’t for no reason,” he said. “It made you happy. That’s reason enough for me.” 

The chill in the air was a blessing as you felt heat rise in your cheeks, and your smile grew just so. 

“Besides.” You could feel his eyes on you as he continued. “This was my first ball. Anytime I got overwhelmed, I would find you in the crowd, and your confidence got me through it.” 

You chuckled as your gaze fell to the marble railing. You didn’t know if you’ve ever felt less confident at a ball—but knowing that Luke was looking for you the same way you did him made butterflies arise in your stomach. 

Warmth spurned all through you, and the fingers on your forearms felt bumps rise on your skin. You didn’t exactly know what possessed you as you cleared your throat and started back towards your room. 

“It’s late,” you said, perhaps a bit too hasty. “We— we should turn in. It’s going to be a long ride back to Aurelda.” 

You paused at the door, waiting to hear Luke’s footsteps or his voice, and it took a few seconds for him to do anything. 

“...Yes,” he eventually said. “I apologize for keeping you so long.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself as you opened the door and walked back in. Always so noble—it was no question he had knight’s blood in his veins. 

“It’s not your fault, Luke,” you said. “You were just meant to drop me off—I got you to stay.” 

You sat on the side of your bed as Luke put his armor back on. There was no point in it, but he refused to let the implications of him leaving your room at this hour in his underclothes fester. 

“I chose to stay,” he said. “I know better.” 

“You can give it a rest for a night, Luke,” you said with a slight laugh. “I’m your princess, aren’t I?” 

“Certainly.” 

“And you are my knight.” 

“Yes.” 

“Then I don’t see how anyone could have a problem with my knight spending time with me.” You smiled as you leaned forward, meeting his eyes. A smile twitched on his lips for just a moment before he continued to get dressed. 

Soon enough, he was ready to go. Luke paused at the door, fingers on the handle, and met your eyes. 

“Thank you again for tonight, princess,” he said. “I…” 

His breath caught for a moment. His eyes flickered down to your neck. A millisecond later, they were back at eye level, and you allowed a knowing smile. 

“I enjoyed it,” he murmured. “Goodnight, princess.” 

“Goodnight, Luke,” you said softly. 

And you got one more smile out of him before he closed the door behind him. 

[flynnriderishot]

hi, I loved the last vinnie image. I was thinking what If it's the other way around and it's him who sometimes forgets to take care of himself. like he doesn't go to sleep even if he's exhausted or something like that. thank you ❤️‍🩹

without you (vinnie’s version) - v.h

a/n: hope this is okay! i’m glad you enjoyed the last one :)

vinnie groaned in annoyance as he tossed his towel to the ground.

“vincent.”

the sound of your sweet voice easily calmed his tense nature.

“are you alright?” you asked, trying not to get distracted by the car oil that covered his biceps, or the thin layer of sweat that coated his golden skin.

“i’m okay. what’s going on?”

“it’s almost ten.”

he furrowed his brows, “okay?”

“ten pm.” you elaborated, watching his brows raise in shock.

he mumbled to himself at how he managed to lose track of time while working on his car. he immediately began to apologize as he noticed the little pajamas you were currently wearing.

“it’s movie night, vin.”

“i know, babe, i’m so sorry.” he ran a hand over his face, his wife beater lifted up at the action, “i was working, adjusted the wrong part and got caught up in fixing it.”

he didn’t go into too much detail, knowing that the information would completely go over your head as the only thing you knew about cars was how you loved seeing the ones that looked like they came straight out of the Cars movie (author insert 😉).

“maybe you should take a break.” you suggested, “relax, shower, watch a movie with your favorite person, sleep, maybe cuddle with your favorite person—“

he scoffed out a laugh, shaking his head at your no so subtle hints.

“wake up tomorrow with a better attitude. and come back and fix your car. either way you need sleep, you look exhausted.”

you stepped up, running you thumbs over cheek bones.

he sighed softly, “you’re right.”

“when am i wrong?” you shrugged.

“almost never.” he agreed, “let me clean this up and i’ll come meet you, okay?”

you nodded, walking towards the exit of the garage, “don’t take too long.”

“i promise i won’t.” he called out, watching with a smile as you walked off.

he smiled to himself as he began to put things away, his mind focused on his favorite person waiting in their shared bed for him to hurry.

truthfully, if you hadn’t come out to get him, vinnie could have stayed up all night working on his car. while it would have gotten done, he knew he would’ve regretted the lack of sleep caused by pulling a possible all nighter.

thank god you were there to stop him before he could.

•••

you walked down the hall with a plate of alfredo in your hand, a dr pepper in your other.

usually, when your boyfriend was doing his streams, you chose to stay away from the room. you didn’t enjoy hearing him yell and scream at his game for whatever reason, it just wasn’t worth the headache in your eyes.

you opted for allowing him to have his fun with his fans and fellow gamers while you enjoyed the peace and quiet in another room.

in the end, it all worked out fine.

until you realized how dedicated he was to playing a game and completely neglecting himself and his needs in the process.

you knocked on the door before entering, already having an idea that your boyfriend most likely wouldn’t have heard you over his own screaming.

“vinnie.”

he immediately turned at the sound of your voice, “yes, ma’am?”

“you need to eat.” you spoke softly, yet your tone was still somehow stern as you stepped further into the room.

he watched you with soft eyes as you made your way over to him. his eyes trailed over your body, taking in your simple outfit before smiling gently once he noticed the plate of food in your hand.

“thank you, baby.”

“you’re welcome.” you nodded, standing behind his chair, leaning against the back of it as you watched his chat go crazy at your monthly appearance.

it wasn’t often that the fans got to see more than a small glimpse of you walking in the background when vinnie streamed.

it sucked, because the fans truly did adore you as a person. they also loved the small bits of coupes content they would get when you appeared on any of vinnie’s accounts.

while you did social media yourself, you didn’t post as often as you did when quarantine was still a thing.

you weren’t a fan of how drastically things changed once everyone decided they wanted to become social media stars.

you weren’t against people pursing the career that you and your boyfriend did, it was just how weird to you how things went from dancing and thirst trapping on tiktok to bullying and berating random people for views and attention.

instead of risking getting involved in anything, you chose to slowly stray away from the toxic world of social media.

so it was safe to say that you running your fingers through vinnie’s hair as his cheeks flushed red at the simple sight of you was the highlight of their day.

“yo, chat. i want you all to know that if it wasn’t for y/n, i’d be dead by now.”

although you knew he was joking, you couldn’t stop yourself from swatting at his shoulder playfully, “don’t joke like that.”

“i’m not joking, babe. your daily reminders are the reason i’m even still standing.”

“al-right.” you dragged out, a short chuckle following as you straightened up, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of his head before you started to walk away.

“text me when you’re finished so i can either get you more or just to grab your dish, yeah?”

“yeah.” he nodded, “i love you, baby.”

“i love you.”

he read over the chat, his happiness clear in his eyes as he took another bite out of his food. thinking about it, his mind went through all the times you’ve managed to pull him out of his ways.

he really didn’t know what he would’ve done without you.

[theslut4smut]

𝘁𝘂𝘁𝗼𝗿 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗯𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗳𝗶𝘁𝘀 | 𝗸𝗶𝗺 𝘀𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗺𝗶𝗻

𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗴𝗼𝗿𝘆: smut

𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻: y/n is struggling with learning korean and seungmin is here to help! with some extra motivation 😉

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 3.7k

𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗹𝘂𝗱𝗲𝘀: afab reader, dom!seungmin, sub!reader, established relationship, non-idol au, kissing, teasing, slight degradation and hitting, a sprinkle of pussy slap, face and finger fucking, hair pulling, penetrative and unprotected sex

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀: anything bolded means that i typed it in english, but the characters say it in korean

i didn’t want to type a full on foreign language since i know that can be a lil intimidating to read and i also feel that it’s disrespectful? of me? since i don’t speak that language? okay! 🩷

_____________________________________

“y/n, i know you can do better than that.” seungmin shakes his head slightly as his brown eyes lock onto yours.

you huff before throwing your head back. “seungmin, i’m just not meant to learn korean. i’ve been trying at it for months now and it’s not sticking.”

you slump further into the comfy sofa the two of you were sitting on as you let out a groan.

“too bad. i’m not letting you give up this easily just because you messed up a few times.” he responds.

“seungmin!” you whine.

“y/n!” he mocks.

you glare at him before rolling your eyes.

“try to remember why you wanted this. what drives you to increase your fluency?”

“i don’t know.” you quickly respond, messing with the fabric of your shorts.

“y/n.” he says firmly.

you groan once more.

“mm...” you bite your lip as you look around the room. “i really wanna have more meaningful and deeper conversations with the guys. like minho or jeongin.”

“there you go.” he says, pointing at you.

“and those shows you watch.” you start, sitting up. “i wanna be able to understand what’s going on instead of just laughing whenever i see you laugh.”

he stifles a laugh.

“it’s not funny!” you say with a faux pout.

“i didn’t say it was funny, y/n. it’s endearing, actually.” he tilts his head to the side. “is that all?”

you feel the warmth of embarrassment cloud the skin of your cheeks as you begin picking at your nails.

“well… i wanna talk to you.” you start, looking at him with slight embarrassment.

he raises his brows. “you’re going to have to further elaborate, y/n.”

he was such an asshole sometimes. he knew exactly what you meant. but you knew he wouldn’t let you get away with having him say it for you.

“i… wanna use it during our… intimate moments.”

you could feel his eyes burning into the side of your face as you avoid looking at him.

it’s not like this was a new thing for the two of you. you had been together for awhile now and had explored each other sexually more times than you could count.

there was just something about this that made you feel so shy.

“is that so?” he finally speaks.

you bury your face into one of the pillows next to you as you made an uncomfortable whimper of some sort.

“no, no. look at me.” he reaches over and redirects your gaze back onto him.

you stare up at him bashfully as he held your face firmly in his grasp.

“you know i’d love that for us. having my pretty girl talk dirty to me in a different language? gets me worked about just thinking about it.” he stops to press his forehead against yours. “but how do you expect to be on that level when you can’t even properly introduce yourself?”

you push him off of you, causing him to laugh loudly.

“you’re a dick.” you snap, crossing your arms.

“y/n.” he sighs, sitting up and adjusting the wrinkles your shove left in his shirt. “i’m not trying to be mean. i just want you to do your best. you’re being really insecure about the whole thing and that’s only hindering your progress.”

“it’s hard, seungmin. i can’t get my brain to retain anything.”

it’s silent for a moment as seungmin taps his chin in thought.

“you’re just not motivated enough.” he says.

you glare at him. “did i not just tell you all of the reasons i started this whole language learning bullshit?”

“no, no.” he closes his eyes as he shakes his head. “those are all long term goals. they’re not obtainable until you’ve reached proper fluency, which then leads you to feel discouraged because of how far out of reach they seem.”

you look at him with slight confusion.

“how about this.” he starts, biting the inside of his cheek. “for every answer you get correct, you get a kiss.”

you perk up, a wide smile decorating your face.

he holds a finger up at you, signaling there was more.

you furrow your brows at him.

“i believe that training yourself should require both rewards and punishments.”

oh god.

here he goes again. being a big meanie.

“you’ll get your kiss from me when you get something right, but if you don’t… that’s one item of clothing from me off.” he smirks as he looks into your eyes. “and you have to keep your hands to yourself.”

your jaw drops. “that’s not fair! you know i can’t stand the teasing, seungmin. that’s just gonna distract me even more.”

“you have to learn one way or another.” he shrugs. “and i feel this will be the most effective for you.”

this was just great.

seungmin knew how easy you were. how the littlest thing had you so desperate and needy for him.

he was stubborn too. which meant no getting out of it.

you knew that you better get it together and start saying some correct answers, or else you’d be feeling the pain of deprivation.

“alright, come on. i need you to focus.” seungmin says.

you let out a small and shaky breath as you got into a more comfortable position on the sofa.

“alright, we’re meeting for the first time. how would you introduce yourself to me?” he asks.

you bite your lip as you look around. “formal or informal?”

he smiles as he grabs your face and kisses your lips tenderly. “ah, you get a kiss for that one. i wasn’t even thinking.” you bat your lashes up at him with a sweet smile before he continues. “let’s do formal.”

you clear your throat as you straighten your posture. “um… hello… my name is y/n.”

he chuckles softly before placing his hands on either side of your waist. “baby, you don’t have to be so nervous. it’s just me.”

you close your eyes as you let out a sigh.

“don’t let that discourage you.” he starts, caressing the side of your cheek. “i just want you to relax.”

“okay.” you say.

“why don’t you try that sentence again? this time with more confidence.”

you nod before taking another deep breath.

“hello, my name is y/n.”

he smiles before pecking your nose.

you pout, causing him to furrow his brows. “what?”

“just a nose kiss? at least give me one on my lips!”

he shrugs. “all you did was introduce yourself. nothing too impressive.”

you cross your arms. “some encouraging teacher you are.” you roll your eyes.

seungmin sighs as he shakes his head at your ridiculousness.

“now.” he starts, clearing his throat and adjusting himself on the sofa. “tell me about yourself. how old you are, any hobbies. things like that.”

you bite your nails as you rack through your brain, trying to remember all of the words and vocabulary seungmin had taught you over the last few months.

“um, i’m- i mean, i am… thirty years old.” you give him a small smile, awaiting his response.

he tilts his head to the side. “you’re thirty?”

you gasp, burying your face in your hands. “the numbers are so hard to remember!”

he clicks his tongue before making a tsking sound. “you know what that means.”

seungmin pulls his t-shirt over his head, tossing it to the side before leaning back into the sofa.

it’s just his chest. just his olive toned, soft, lovely chest. you feel your heart rate quicken.

he smirks knowingly, cocking an eyebrow. “what do you like to do in your free time?”

you close your eyes for a moment, trying to calm yourself down. why did you have to be so weak for this man?

“i enjoy baking.” you respond, eyes still squeezed shut.

“oh? what’s your favorite dessert?”

your eyes snap open, looking at your boyfriend. “how am i supposed to know what you’re saying?!”

“how are you supposed to learn if you’re only being asked questions in english? that’s not realistic. you know what i’m saying, y/n. break apart the sentence and figure out the words you know.”

you take a deep breath as you picture what he’s saying, picking out the words that you do recognize until you’ve created a somewhat sentence of your own in your mind.

“[favorite dessert]”

he smirks slightly, nodding his head. “very good.” he places a kiss on your lips. his fingers ghost over your skin as he does, never getting too close.

it left you yearning for more. how could he just kiss you and leave it at that? he surely couldn’t go on for much longer. but you knew kim seungmin; stubborn and aware of his affect on you.

“what are your plans for the day?” he asks.

you glare at him, causing him to laugh softly.

“seungmin-” “what are your plans for the day?”

he gestures for you to speak.

you groan before rolling your eyes. “breaking up with my boyfriend.”

“hey.” he starts, furrowing his brows. “you don’t get to be mean to me in a language you can’t even properly say your age in.”

you sigh and shake your head. this small talk was not going to do it for you.

“have you eaten?”

you whimper softly and involuntarily at the thought of how long this could last, causing his mischievous smirk to widen and dick to twitch.

“how are you feeling today?” he changes the question and gets closer to you, rubbing your inner thighs while gently touching the side of your neck with the tip of his nose. you feel his breath fanning on your collarbone, causing goosebumps to paint the surface of your skin.

you shiver, placing your hand on top of his. “y-you said no touching.”

“i didn’t say anything about me touching you, did i?” he raises his brows at you. you bite your lip, feeling as if you could cry at just how worked up you were.

“now, answer my question.”

you let a shaky breath out. “i’m feeling frustrated.”

“awe, why?” he nibbles at your ear while cooing.

“you’re so mean, minnie.” you say softly, squeezing your legs together as you try to fight the throbbing pain in between.

“let’s set up a little scenario.” he starts, playing with the outline of his dick in his sweatpants, making your mouth water. “you want something really bad. but, you have to ask me for it. how would you say it?”

you let out a whine, quickly getting up from the couch.

seungmin places a firm grip onto your arm and pulls you down. you give him a shove, turning away from him.

he pins both of your hands down before grabbing your jaw and forcing you to look at him. “you are not giving up. you cried and cried about how much this meant to you and now you’re acting like a brat. how many times am i going to have to put you in your place before you realize that you don’t always get your way with me?”

you begin breathing quickly as your head spins.

he places a hand on your rising chest, looking into your eyes. “beg for it.”

you open your mouth to speak, only to be cut off by a moan slipping out. you look down to see seungmin’s knee firmly pressed against your thinly clothed core and grinding.

you look up to him, panting. he cocks an eyebrow as he waits for your answer.

“i-i need you, p-please.” you swallow and release a shaky and desperate breath. “i need you so bad.”

“oh.” he coos. “would you look at that? struggling to make simple conversation, but you sure know how to beg, don’t you?” he places a firm slap on your thigh, causing you to cry out.

“so nasty and desperate all of the time, aren’t you?” he says, yanking your pajama shorts off.

one less layer made you realize just how wet you were. if only seungmin could be as easy as you were. one look at your swollen and eager sex would have him practically clawing at you. his lips would be on yours while his cock was stuffed inside of you, filling and stretching out your warm walls.

the sting of another slap causes you to snap away from your heavenly thoughts and moan, this time right on your pussy.

“i asked you a question.” he snaps.

you take a moment, truly trying to remember what.

“y-yes, seungmin.” you whine. “so nasty, just for you.”

you lean in to kiss him, only for him to stop you with two single fingers against your lips. you pout.

“what did you do to deserve your kiss?” he looks down at you as he speaks.

“i’ve been good. so, so good.” you grab onto his torso desperately, pulling him closer.

he scoffs before pushing your hands off of him.

“seungmin!” you whine, arching your back as you try to get some relief.

he grabs your face firmly, squishing your cheeks together as he does. “all you do is bitch and complain. why don’t you put that mouth to good use for once?”

before you could say anything, he re-positions you to your knees on the couch, quickly removing both pairs of bottoms he still had on.

you weren’t going to tell him that he was the one who was technically giving in. that he was the one who was giving into you. that you hadn’t gotten enough answers incorrect for him to even fully undress yet.

for once, you got the better of him. he couldn’t control himself over you.

but you couldn’t tell him that he lost. you needed him too bad to risk him realizing his mistake and making you wait even longer.

“stick your tongue out.” he speaks soft, yet firm.

you quickly oblige, putting the wet and soft muscle on full display for him. you bat your pretty lashes up at him, knowing how crazy it drove him.

he slaps his dick on it a couple of times, causing strings of your spit and his pre-cum to stick together. he hisses at the sinful sight.

he sticks his length in and pushes until he hits the back of your throat. you cough, trying to pull away.

“ah.” he holds you by the throat. “this is what you wanted. you don’t get to run from me.”

he teases you by continuing to dip in and out of your warm and soft throat. quick and deep touches to your uvula that causes you to gag before he pulls out again.

“tell me you who belong to.” he orders through gritted teeth.

you let out another gag as he pulls out. “you.” you say breathlessly.

“in korean.” he places his dick in your mouth again, making it to where you only had a few seconds in between to speak.

“i’m yours.” gag. “i belong.” gag. “to you.”

“yes you do.” he inserts himself fully, this time grabbing a handful of your hair before thrusting in and out quickly.

you choke as he fucks your throat at a rapid pace, feeling your slick pooling underneath you.

drool and mascara stain your oversized top as he continues his movements.

he rubs his palm over you throat, loving the feeling of his bulge through the skin.

you lose yourself to the feeling of slight oxygen restriction, the way he twitched and throbbed in your mouth, his strong grip on your face. there was no better feeling than being dominated by seungmin.

the trance like state you were in had you completely unaware that he was no longer in your mouth and that you were now lying on your back.

he quickly puts the both of you into the spooning position before lifting the leg of yours closest to him and running his two middle fingers up and down your drenched slit.

“m-minnie.” you say, eyes rolling back.

“should i give you the satisfaction?” he asks, teasingly. “you really didn’t work that hard today.”

you begin to bable incoherent words, far past the point of understanding and clearly deep in subspace.

he finally fulfills your craving as he leans down and captures your lips into a deep and passionate kiss.

you moan into his mouth.

his two digits make their way inside of your needy cunt, causing you to break the kiss as you sing in ecstasy.

there’s no preparation or warming up as he immediately pumps his fingers in and out of you, filling the room with the lewd sound of your squelching heat.

it reminds you of how shy you used to be with seungmin. how he had to create this slut that you’ve become. he likes to say it’s always been there and that he just brought it out of you, but it didn’t matter anymore.

this state of vulnerability would have your past self red in the face and full of embarrassment. the way you obey every command he has, fulfill any of his wishes, let him control you both mentally and physically.

it made you so hot for him.

you squeal as you feel the intense build up of an orgasm, grabbing onto his forearm as a way to ground yourself.

he removes his fingers and stands on his knees.

“n-no! minnie, minnie!” you claw at his arms, too desperate to notice that he’s actually just moving you onto your tummy.

he laughs like the little shit he is as he takes in your fucked out state all caused by him. he loves it too much.

he arches your back before lifting your ass up to him, rubbing the tip of his dick at your entrance.

you mindlessly grind against him, your eyes closed as you try to focus on your own pleasure.

“awe.” he coos, stroking your sweaty and tangled locks. “so needy. impatient.” he yanks a fistful of hair, causing your head to jerk back.

you moan loudly.

“you think you can fuck yourself the way i do? go ahead. show me.”

you whine like a bitch in heat before inserting his long length into you, sloppily circling your hips.

he laughs and shakes his head at your cute yet poor attempt to satisfy yourself.

he knew that he ruined you a long time ago. your vibrator would never be his tongue, your fingers would never be his, those flimsy and lifeless dildos would never hit every spot inside of you the way his dick did.

but it was adorable to watch you try.

"it's not easy, is it?" he asks.

“no.” you cry, genuine tears slipping past your lashline, making your cheeks a sticky and pink mess.

“i know it’s not, baby.” he says softly, placing his hands on your hips. “you require a lot to please. not just anyone can do it. not even you.”

you feel a shiver run up your spine at his words.

“why don’t you thank me, huh?” he wipes your pitiful tears before placing a gentle kiss on your cheek. “thank me for always being able to take care of you. being so good to you.”

“in korean?” you ask, grinding harder on his length.

“there you go. already catching on. so much smarter than you lead everyone to believe.” he massages the skin of your hips roughly, causing you to squeeze and contract on his cock.

“t-thank you so much. for always taking care of me. and treating me good.”

“good girl.” he whispers as he slowly begins to thrust in and out.

the feeling causes your mind to go blank as you take in the addictive sensation of his length brushing past every surface of your sensitive walls.

“keep going.”

“thank you for being so amazing. so handsome and smart. you’re- you’re the greatest i could ever have.”

you gasp as he snaps his hips into you, beginning his intense pounding as he grabs onto your hair once again.

“ah! y-yes, seungmin!” you cry out, grabbing onto the hand of his that was pressed into the couch.

all of his prior teasing made it to where you knew you weren’t going to last another second of him inside of you. he had just started, but you already felt your previously denied orgasm making a much stronger comeback.

“m-min, i’m gonna cum!” you scream, digging your nails into his skin.

“what do you say when you want something?” he responds breathlessly, feeling his peak approaching as well.

“please! please, please, please!”

he feels himself throb at you remembering to use korean without him asking.

“fuck, cum.” he demands.

stars cloud your vision as you release onto his hard cock, the screams and cries falling from your lips most likely being heard from planets away.

he spills inside of you with a groan, gently fucking you through your orgasm and allowing you to come back down.

you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

“oh my god.” you say softly, closing your eyes as you exhale.

he flips you onto your back before cuddling up with you, peppering your face with kisses.

seungmin giggles against your skin. “that was pretty good, huh?”

you playfully glare at him.

“you know.” he starts, placing his chin on your chest as he looks up to you with his cute puppy eyes. “you sure knew a lot of what to say. i think you’re better than you give yourself credit for.”

“or maybe i’ve just studied things to say when you’re fucking me instead of the basics like i should be.” you respond with a smile.

he rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

he places a kiss onto your lips. this one different from the rest. soft and filled with love. you smile onto his lips.

“you really are more capable than you think. you just need to apply yourself more. i’m serious about not letting you give up.” he points at you, raising his brows.

“yeah, yeah. i know.” you lay his head back down. “korean lessons are over for the day. now it’s cuddle time.”

“same time tomorrow, though.” he says.

you cover his face with a pillow.

“i’m serious!” his muffled voice yells.

[agi-ppangx]

fragile (lee minho x gn!reader)

warnings: depressive episode, mentions of suicidal thoughts

“it’s like…” you started hesitantly, picking at the petals of the daisy you were holding in your hand. “recently even existing feels like a chore,” you mumbled, looking down at the crumpled flower. minho glanced at you from his spot.

“elaborate?”

minho had decided to bring you to the meadow far away from your home because, quote, “fresh air will stop your head from hurting. you’ve been complaining about that a lot recently”. you thought it was silly, him wanting you to leave the comfort and familiarity of your bed, but it was minho after all - if you didn’t comply he would simply pick you up and carry you to the car himself.

“if i knew i wouldn’t wake up tomorrow i’d go to sleep right now,” you responded, shrugging your shoulders, and you threw the daisy onto the ground. the soft, spring wind brushed through your messy hair, making you close your eyes. even nature treated you ever so gently - why couldn’t you do the same for yourself?

the tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and you whined, laying down on the blanket and curling into a ball, letting the tears fall down your face.

“i just don’t see the purpose, you know? i attend my classes but i can’t even focus on the topic, i sleep a lot but i’m still fucking exhausted and–” you stopped, taking in a sharp breath. you squeezed your eyes, desperately trying to calm down. inhale, one, two, three, exhale. repeat.

you opened your eyes, the bright sun rays blinding you, but its warmth on your skin felt oddly soothing. you looked at the clouds slowly making their way into the unknown. weren’t they scared of it?

you exhaled loudly, sitting up again and wiping your damp cheeks.

“i don’t know how much longer i can take it,” you whispered, looking into the distance. “god, i’m sorry. i said too much,” you chuckled dryly, blushing with embarrassment.

minho didn’t say anything as he shifted, facing you and reaching his hands to place a flower crown on your head.

“a flower crown for my little flower,” he voiced with a faint smile, his bunny teeth peeking out of his mouth. you’re such a fragile thing, he was trying to tell you.

you teared up at the simple statement and minho wasted no time as he wrapped his arms around your body and brough you close to his chest, placing your head right where his heart beat. he rubbed your back soothingly as you sobbed into his t-shirt, damping it with your tears.

“you’re not alone in this, okay? you don’t have to act tough all the time, not when you have me,” he said firmly, kissing the top of your head. “i’ll catch you whenever you fall, i can be tough for both of us.” you breathed harshly, sniffling, and a loud sob left your body. “it’ll become easier. maybe not now, but soon. i promise.” you nodded, burying your face in the crook of his neck, breathing his cologne and letting it cloud your senses.

you weren’t sure how things could get better, but you wanted to believe him. you wanted to hold onto hope that your life will soon become easier, more bearable. maybe even one day you’ll be happy again, though the route to that would be long and bumpy. but just as flowers needed water to live and grow, you needed someone to help you get back on your feet. and minho was willing to be the one to help you with that.

taglist !

@lynlyndoll @iyenbread @flooo71 @skz-streamer @inniescandy-01 @hannahhbahng @prettymiye0n @ggsez31 @laylasbunbunny @like-a-diamondinthesky @axel-skz @kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy @l3visbby

[bakubunny]

bad days & insecurities | katsuki x f!reader

a/n: here’s another untouched excerpt i had sitting in my drafts that i don’t think i’ll finish. enjoy.

tw: f!reader, chubby reader, insecurities, comfort fluff

“Just - just don’t fucking touch me,” you said angrily.

“The fuck? What do you mean, don’t touch you?”

You chanced a glance his way and saw the hurt in Katsuki’s eyes. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe-

“Huh?”

“I mean don’t touch me. I don’t want to talk about it,” you replied. “And I know you hate it when I tell you that, but that’s the answer you’re getting.”

“No, it’s not. What the fuck is going on?” he asked, his voice raising.  

“It doesn’t fucking matter, Katsuki,” you shouted. “Just drop it.”

You walked to the bathroom hoping to secure some privacy, but Katsuki wasn’t having it. 

You reached for he handle as he slammed the door away from your hand into the wall, wide open. You knew him enough to know it took all of his effort not to force you to look his way. But right now you didn’t care. Everything inside hurt, it hurt too much. All you wanted was the hot water on your back and the lights off so you didn’t have to see what parts of you didn’t deserve him. 

“If you don’t get the hell out of this bathroom and let me shower-”

“Look at me.”

“No,” you said. 

He wouldn’t let it go. 

“Please, baby. I - I won’t yell, I promise,” Katsuki said, pain evident in his voice. 

It felt like hot daggers in your stomach. A lump grew in your throat. 

“It’s not that. Not you. I’m sorry for being so childish,” you said. “I’m having a really tough day, that’s all.”

“Then let me-”

“No,” you said firmly. “I need to be alone.”

Katsuki stood quietly. 

“Please, Kats.” Tears threatened to fall down your cheeks. 

“Was it that fucking bitch again? She getting into your head?” he asked. 

‘That bitch’ was a shitty coworker who never seemed to shut up about you. What you ate, what you wore, how your body looked, your job performance. Someone who had the gall to tell you to your face that you weren’t good enough for the hero standing in the room. Who said that he could do so much better. 

“No, I just…” 

“What is it?” he said. 

“You don’t want the truth.” Your voice was quiet and pleading. 

“The fuck are you on about, babe? Yes, I do.”

You took a deep breath. “You deserve better. I don’t want to elaborate. And I don’t want you to console me or tell me I’m wrong right now. My body feels gross, and I want to process it on my own.”

The crushing hug he pulled you into knocked the air out of your chest. “Kats-”

“Shut it. I want to hold you, n you’re gonna let me,” he said grumpily. Katsuki kissed you on the head. “Fuckin’ tellin’ me I can’t touch you. ‘S bullshit.”

You cracked a little grin, your face pressed into his chest. He held you in silence for what felt like ages, but eventually a calmness soothed the tightness in your stomach.

“I love you. Can I shower now?” you asked.

He sighed. “Fine. But I’m not done with you, little miss. You owe me a damn kiss or ten after that.”

You laughed and met his scowling gaze.

“That’s fair.” You leaned in and stood on your toes. “How about one for the road to start with?”

“‘S more like it.” Katsuki lifted your chin, pressing his soft lips to yours.

if you’d like to be added to my tag list, let me know. ♡

gremlins: @callm3senpaii @arlerts-angel @dcsiremc @darkstarlight82 @bookcluberror @neon-gothicc @zazter-den @breadandbutter33 @i-literally-cant-with-this @pastelbakugou @she-who-writes-for-multi-fandoms @rinalouu @stvrfir3 @r4td0lll @emmab3mma @aria-chikage @mhadabiandhawks4eva @yazminetrahan @doumadono @dreamcastgirl99 @maddietries @jazzafayesworld @karebear5118 @unofficialmuilover @cherriluvs35 @erensslut @citysweet @ruu-https @hana-yuri @keiva1000 @katsul0vr @trickster-kat @ayeohoh-blog @dinomeow @flamgosstuff @mistressreaper @angelltheninth @anonymously-ominous @amberexe2 @hisconsistency @nanamisbigassschlong @223princess @gold24fish

[honeypiehotchner]

the open road (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- one shot

Happy 5.5k 🤪🤪 I’ve literally had this idea in my head for a WHILE so I am mf glad to have it out. Enjoy ;))

Summary: All the times you and Hotch spent on the open road, and the one where you couldn’t help yourself.

Warnings: smut 18+ only blah blah we know the drill (pls!), car sex!! blowjob ;)) unprotected sex (don’t be like them, use a condom), lots of teasing, lots of fluff/smut adjacent dialogue

WC: ~2.8k

It started when you saw how Hotch drives when he’s in a hurry.

Your body flung against the car door despite your hold on the safety handle above you. Infuriated, you went to yell at Hotch to slow the fuck down, until you saw the look on his face, the way his hands gripped the wheel, the way his muscles flexed underneath his dress shirt.

Oh.

Oh, the thoughts you had were beyond inappropriate, especially considering the circumstances. You were rushing to catch the unsub, and you were having unholy thoughts about your boss.

You quickly focused your eyes back on the road ahead, chanting cleansing thoughts to calm your mind down from whatever the hell that was.

It worked in the moment, but only just. What truly didn’t help matters was that you somehow always ended up riding shotgun with Hotch, no matter what. Sometimes with Rossi in the backseat, but most times it’s just you two.

Which makes it impossibly hard to hide your staring.

On this particular day, you and Hotch went to a prison about an hour away to interview a serial killer on death row. This sort of thing is routine, but you’ve never tagged along for them. It’s usually Reid or Prentiss, but for some reason, Hotch decided to take you.

It was a boring day, to say the least. Traffic getting there was awful. The checks to get into the prison and then to the specific area took forever. To make matters worse, the killer didn’t really want to talk. He wanted to play games.

Needless to say, you feel like it was a waste of time. But you can’t say that to your boss.

Instead, on the ride back to Quantico, you say, “That was enlightening.”

Hotch scoffs, then laughs. “It was a nightmare.”

“Okay, well, I wasn’t going to say that.”

“It’s alright, you can say it.”

“Fine, it was boring as hell and a complete nightmare,” you blurt, glad to have gotten it off your chest.

Hotch laughs loudly this time. “You were holding that in.”

“Maybe,” you shrug, grinning. “Definitely.”

Hotch goes to reply, but stops himself when he has to slam on brakes. A sea of red taillights are ahead.

“That looks like a nightmare,” you groan, pulling up your GPS. “Two and a half hours to get home?”

“There must’ve been a wreck,” Hotch comments, angling his head to get a better look and that looks hotter than hell.

“We should probably get off at this exit,” you say. Thankfully, you’re in the far right lane, so exiting won’t be hard.

“Good plan,” he says, putting on the signal to get over to the ramp. “Can you navigate back to the BAU?”

“Sure,” you say. “Take a left up here.”

At first, the traffic is just as bad with everyone getting off at the same ramp to avoid the interstate, but soon it calms down.

You rant about the interview while navigating, not even realizing Hotch is replying to you until he compliments you.

“What?” you blink.

“I said you did good today,” he repeats. “You held yourself well. You should do more of these with me.”

“With you?”

“Well, I wouldn’t advise doing them alone.”

“Why not?”

“It’s better done in pairs,” he says, and that’s all he’ll elaborate.

So, you decide to tease him. “Sounds like you just want an excuse to spend more time with me.”

“I don’t need to make excuses to do that,” he replies smoothly, catching you off guard.

“Oh?”

“I chose you today on purpose,” he says. “Not as an excuse.”

“Oh,” you say, not sure what to make of that. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he says. And the drive is silent after that.

+++

Now, you look forward to riding shotgun with Hotch.

Maybe you shouldn’t, but you let yourself think those wildly inappropriate thoughts. And the more tame ones, which you’re able to voice, because he’s taken a liking to complimenting you, too.

“New haircut?” he says when you knock on his office door. He had barely glanced up at you from where he’s sitting, but one second was all he needed to see the difference.

“First one to notice,” you smile, stepping into his office.

“I just pay a lot of attention to you.” That’s enough to make you swoon, but he continues. “It looks good on you.”

“Thank you,” you reply. You study him for a moment. “New tie?”

“Yes,” he chuckles, lifting the piece of fabric. “A birthday gift this morning from Dave.”

Your eyes widen. “Is today your birthday?”

Sheepishly, he nods.

“Aaron!” you scold, blowing right past the fact that you used his first name. “Why didn’t you say?”

“It’s not a big deal, and serial killers don’t care about birthdays,” he says, grabbing his briefcase. He stands and buttons his jacket. “Are you ready?”

“I guess,” you mutter. “I’m mad that you scheduled this for your birthday.”

“Not for my birthday, it just happens to be on my birthday.”

“Same difference.”

“Alright, let’s go,” he gestures for you to go out the door. “Before we’re late.”

“We won’t be late,” you scoff.

“You just have to have the last word today, don’t you?”

You pause. Well. Those thoughts are definitely inappropriate, and you’re glad you stopped yourself from saying something you shouldn’t have. Especially with the rest of the team staring up at you and Hotch from their desks down in the bullpen.

They’ve been listening to your bickering for the past few minutes. They knew it was his birthday (courtesy of Reid), but they also know he isn’t a fan of huge celebrations.

Still, you’re upset about this, and Hotch has no idea why.

You bid the team goodbye as you and Hotch head out to the garage to pick up a BAU vehicle to take to the prison.

The drive there is smooth on the interstate. The interview is slightly less of a bore than the last few, but also not enlightening. Everything the killer said, you already knew.

Hotch decides not to take the interstate back to Quantico.

“It’ll only add half an hour,” he says. “I’m tired of seeing only interstate signs.”

“Suit yourself,” you say. Normally he can’t wait to get back to work.

You use this as the perfect time to corner him about his birthday, sure that he’ll regret his decision and get back on the interstate.

“How are you celebrating?” you ask.

“I’m not,” he shrugs.

“Why not?”

“Well, for starters, we have work tomorrow.”

“And?”

“I don’t want to be out late.”

“One drink won’t be late.”

“I’m old.”

You snort. “You’re not that old.”

“I’m 44.”

“Not old, I’d still go--” you stop yourself abruptly.

“You’d what?”

“Nothing,” you laugh. Shit shit shit. “You’re not old.”

“What were you going to say?”

“Nothing!” you cry, laughing awkwardly.

“Y/N.”

“Nothing, Aaron.”

“You can tell me.”

You shake your head. “I definitely cannot.”

“Y/N.”

“Aaron.”

You stare at him and he stares back at you, intermittently looking away to watch the road, but it’s wide open. No one is around. And he’s better at staring than you are.

“Fine,” you grumble. “I’d still…I’d still go for you.”

“Go for me?”

“Yes, like, have sex with you— with a 44 year old because 44 isn’t that old— Please watch the road and stop looking at me.”

He grins, but he looks back at the road. One car passes. You’re mortified. You want to jump out of the window and roll into the ditch and stay there.

“Will you say something?” you blurt.

He laughs, and that makes you grimace. This is not how you pictured this conversation happening.

“Thank you. I think,” he says.

“You’re welcome,” you huff. “Even though I shouldn’t have said anything. That was inappropriate.”

“It wasn’t inappropriate,” he replies, and his hand does what it has done this entire trip -- and drives in the past. He gestures into your space on the passenger side, each time nearly connecting with your arm. This time, his fingers graze your skin.

“Okay…” you hesitate for a moment, keeping your arm on the console, not inching away from his touch.

He doesn’t move his hand, either, and it’s strange. His knuckles brush down your arm, over your wrist and to your fingers where he rests his hand over yours. You can feel his own hesitation, wondering how many lines this is crossing and how many rules are being broken.

“So, if I-- if someone my age,” he corrects himself, “asked you on a date, you would go for it?”

“Absolutely,” you reply a little too quickly.

“It seems like you’ve thought about this.”

“I have,” you admit.

“Good to know,” he says, smirking. And that’s the end of it.

+++

It’s a slow progression, your relationship with Hotch. The many car rides together on the open road provide for perfect moments. Here, with no one around, the two of you can be affectionate without worry.

He holds your hand while he drives, occasionally bringing your knuckles to his lips for a kiss. You play with his fingers, tracing his knuckles, the lines on his palm.

Sometimes, when he’s feeling bold, he’ll rest his hand on your thigh. The first time it happened, arousal paralyzed you. Now, it makes you want to climb in his lap.

He has to know what he’s doing.

He squeezes your thigh and you’re done for, squirming in your seat like it’s uncomfortable.

“What is wrong with you?” he asks.

“Oh, don’t you dare,” you mutter.

“What?”

“You have your hand on my thigh and you’re asking me what’s wrong?”

“Do you want me to move?”

“No, you-- Let me just--” You move his hand, only so you can give him a taste of his own medicine. You place your hand on his thigh, dangerously close to his crotch, and his jaw tenses immediately. “See?”

“I see.”

You squeeze your hand, digging your fingertips in, and you see him swallow hard. “Want me to move my hand?” you ask playfully. You begin to take your hand away and he grabs your wrist, keeping your hand right where it is.

Oh?

He says nothing about it, so neither do you. The drive continues in silence, only the radio playing lowly.

After a while, you notice that not a single car has passed by. The two of you seem to be alone again on this road.

Your skin is burning with the anticipation of what you want to do. Your fingers twitch against his leg, wanting to move further up his thigh, but resisting.

He’ll tell you to stop. If it’s too much. You should just go for it.

So you do.

In a moment of reckless boldness, you stare straight ahead at the road and slowly creep your hand up his thigh.

You hear him inhale sharply, but he doesn’t stop you.

You trace slow circles on the fabric of his pants, each time inching closer and closer to where you want to be. His belt will be in the way, though. That’ll have to go first.

“You should tell me to stop,” you murmur, letting your fingers travel to his belt. You begin to tug on it, getting his attention. “Aaron?”

“Keep going,” he says, through a tight jaw. He glances over at you but then back at the road. His left hand tightens on the wheel.

He wore the belt that snaps, so you’re able to open it swiftly. Unbuttoning his pants, you tug the zipper down. He’s already hard, but not fully just yet. His restraint is unbelievable to you, but you know his body well enough now to get around it.

He adjusts his hips to give you better access, but accidentally revs the car when he does.

“Relax,” you chuckle. “You can’t run us off the road.”

“I won’t,” he says firmly.

You hum as you tease him some more, lightly touching him, smirking as he grows. Easy.

He’s uncomfortable, reaching down to move his underwear. If you weren’t so pleased with yourself, you would’ve swatted his hand away. But instead you let him do it, wasting no time in wrapping your hand around him.

“Your hands are always so cold,” he laughs, his voice deeper now.

“You’re always so warm,” you retort, stroking him gently. “Is there anyone around?”

He looks in the rearview and then shakes his head. “No.”

“Good,” you smirk, unbuckling your seatbelt. You lean over the console, glad that this model has such a flat design.

“Shit,” he cusses, realizing what you plan to do. He should’ve known better than to assume otherwise, honestly.

You take him into your mouth with a low hum, loving the way the muscles in his legs tense immediately. Only the tip rests on your tongue, yet you feel his heart rate beginning to pick up.

He talks a big game, acting nonchalant and cool, until your mouth is on him. He’s said before that he loses it all with you. There is no holding back.

Taking him deeper, you feel him hit the back of your throat sooner than expected, causing you to gag. This angle is different, and his hand reaches for your shoulder, a gentle touch, asking if you’re alright.

You suck him down again, better prepared now, and his hand tenses, lifting off your skin to not leave bruises, even though you’d like him to (but you haven’t told him that just yet).

To compromise, you grab his hand and place it on the back of your head, looking up at him. He glances down in surprise, meets your eyes, and groans, letting out the sound he’s been holding inside.

His hand pushes on your head, the pressure igniting something inside of you. You adjust to get a better angle, pulling back to swirl your tongue over his head.

The car speeds up again, but he catches himself, not wanting you to stop. His hand remains at the back of your head, keeping you in place, as if you’d go anywhere anyway.

“I’m gonna have to pull over,” he mutters, barely getting the words out.

You shake your head and he groans loudly. Lifting up, you look at him. “Where’s the fun in that?”

His head hits the headrest and he sighs, chuckling deliriously. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“You say that every time,” you tease.

He continues driving, determined now to not pull over. The thrill goes away if he isn’t driving.

Continuing as you were, you chase his release, desperate to hear him. You take him into your mouth fully again, swallowing with a contented hum.

You feel it when he begins to unravel, the way he twitches in your mouth, the way his abdomen tenses. He keeps your head pinned down, only lightly, but enough for you.

His climax is unexpected even for him, spilling down your throat without much more than a few seconds warning. He lifts his foot from the gas, willing his eyes to stay open enough to see the road.

You swallow it all, coaxing more from him, relishing in his little noises. If it weren’t for the console finally digging in a little too hard to your ribcage, you would stay.

You lift your head with a satisfied smile, squeaking in surprise when his hand on the back of your head pulls you into him for a kiss.

“The road!” you mumble through kisses, keeping an eye on it, even though it’s still empty.

“Fuck the fucking road,” he mutters, swerving to pull off to the side. He puts the car in park and pulls you back in.

“Aaron!” you laugh, letting him haul you into his lap.

“I can’t drive and do this,” he says, putting both hands on your face and smothering you in a kiss.

He grows harder underneath you, especially now that you’re sitting in his lap, grinding your hips against him.

“Thank god these windows are tinted,” you chuckle as he practically rips your pants off of your legs. You hear a seam rip and you give him a tired look. “Seriously?”

“I’ll buy you more,” he says, finishing the job and ripping them entirely. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Whore,” you snicker, but it’s broken off when he enters you in one swift movement.

“You were saying?” he whispers, smirking against your cheek. You can’t answer and he starts to grin, nipping at your jaw. “That’s what I thought.”

+++

When the two of you return to Quantico two hours late, the team starts to wonder what is really going on.

Each time, your excuse is traffic, stopping to get food, gas, or all of the above. But this time, there is no hiding the obvious.

Meaning, the way Hotch has to come into the office to grab your go bag from your desk so you’ll have a pair of fucking pants to wear into the building.

[lizardaggro]

on the flip side

part 2 is out! part 3! part 4!

whaddya know, i already have my first piece of writing that's not for an rp. it's a mess, but that's okay, because i admit i have no clue what i'm doing! i welcome all feedback as long as it's not just plain mean. when i asked for writing ideas, i was suggested to try my spin on the twst bully!au, and so i present: reader/yuu is done with their bs. no beta we die like my sleep schedule. genre: gn reader, angst trigger warnings: bullying, slight yandere that hasn't escalated yet word count:896

You’d had enough, thank you very much. The constant jeers, “misplaced” textbooks, and shoves in the hallway were only the beginning. Before long, you were beaten and bruised, and all for what? Just because you didn’t have magic? According to your research, the majority of the population here didn’t either! But alas, such was your plight. The professors turned a blind eye, and Crowley couldn’t care less.

So, when someone “accidentally” dislocated your shoulder during PE, you decided enough was enough. The students you’d never bothered to learn the names of were one thing; you were going to call your former friends out on their bullshit. Despite Grim’s protests, you dragged him all the way back to Ramshackle the moment you had a break in between classes. Why that timing? Because the model student prefect would never cut class, of course!

You locked the door not once, not twice, but three times, thanks to the padlocks you’d had placed on your stuff in the past. Then you took your time creating the Junk Tower. Your materials were all the scraps people had thrown in your yard in the past. You had quite the collection. The windows? They’d been boarded for years, according to the ghosts. Back door? Kalim had it removed. Something about first years sneaking in. You figure it’s better not to ask how he managed to have a door seamlessly replaced with walls in one afternoon.

About twenty minutes after the last class of the day ended, you had your first knock on the door. “Oi, prefect, open up!” Ace demanded. Because of course it was Ace. He was the first student you met here, so it was only fitting that he’d be the first to know you weren’t fucking around anymore. You ignored him.

The knocking stopped “Oi Ace, maybe they’re not home?” Deuce, ever the voice of reason, pondered. You weren’t sure whether to love or hate him. He’d stop others from picking on you, sure, but the moment you disobeyed him, he went back to his old delinquent ways.

“Well, they weren’t in class, and there’s no way my prefect’s with someone else, so they’ve gotta be inside!” Ace insisted. His prefect? Since when were you his? Did Ace eat something funny while you were gone? Because the last you checked, he couldn’t stand the sight of you.

Deuce’s voice dropped an octave, or maybe two. You weren’t too sure how that applied to speaking voices. “Oi, Ace, what the fuck do you mean your prefect? They don’t belong to you!” Yes, thank you for the reality check. Deuce must’ve had the brain cell today. “Obviously I’m way closer to them than you are!”

Scratch that. Deuce did not have the brain cell today. Really though, what was with them? Why in the world were they fighting over who was closer to you when all they’d done lately was make it clear how much they hated you? Oh, wait. They thought you could hear them. This must be some sort of trick. Trey and Cater must’ve put them up to it, since they were far too dumb to think of anything this elaborate on their own. You decided to ignore everything they said from here on out.

All was well, until Adeuce simultaneously let out an ungodly screech. Now that was troublesome. What could possibly scare those two like that? Surely nothing good for you. With luck, it’d be Riddle come to behead them for not wearing fluorescent pink or some other dumb rule, but you wouldn’t bet on it.

You soon had your answer. “Ne, where’s Shrimpy? I wanna squeeze ‘em!” Suddenly you didn’t blame those two for being scared. Floyd Leech in a bad mood was always a force to be reckoned with. You could never tell if he was in a good or bad mood when he was “squeezing” you, and quite frankly, you’d rather not know. The sick fucker probably took pleasure in hearing your bones pop and crack under the extreme pressure.

“Floyd-senpai! The prefect is, uh, we’re not actually sure where they are,” Ace volunteered. You almost pitied him, having to put up with the more rambunctious Leech during basketball practice. Almost.

“Hah? What do you mean you don’t know? Crabby is always crowding around Shrimpy like a little parasite,” Floyd whined. Um, what? Is Floyd in on the joke too? Is the whole school conspiring against you? You wouldn’t put it past them.

A cloud of dust blew up from the floor where you swung your foot back and forth, making you sneeze. You froze. Did they hear that? Wait, what were you acting so scared for? What were they gonna do anyway, break the door down and hit you? All within your expectations when you’d formed this plan. The point was to prove that you wouldn’t just sit and take it anymore. You’d seen all their dirty little secrets, especially during the Overblots; you could hit them where it hurt if you felt like it. No one would ever think the perfect little prefect would tell someone else what they’d confided in them! So when Floyd broke the door down with a display of monstrous strength, you were prepared. You greeted them with a smile. “Ne, you guys,” you began, “would you believe me if I told you I’m done with your bullshit?”

[cosmal]

KINKTOBER DAY EIGHT — FACESITTING WITH EDDIE MUNSON

*:･ﾟ summary — eddie convinces you to ride his face.

*:･ﾟ warnings/tags — fem!reader, she/her prns. face sitting, face fucking, reader is a little self-conscious, doubtful, encouraging eddie!!!!

*:･ﾟ word count — 1.7k

Eddie has you sprawled you atop his bed, thighs spread, held open by his meaty palms, and you sit there, palming your tits lazily. You’re down to completely nothing, he’s still in his shirt and boxers. You don’t think it’s all that fair.

“Eddie?” You call. He looks up from where he’s laying on his stomach, face between your legs. He smiles, all toothy and lovesick.

“What’s up, baby?” He asks, squeezing at your calf attentively. 

You turn your knee inwards and he stops you, palm flat. “You’re being very quiet.” You say matter of factly.

He kisses your knee with wet lips, “M’thinking.”

“Yeah?” Your voice becomes quieter the closer he inches to your cunt. “That’s scary.” you giggle.

He nips at your skin and chuckles. “That’s mean,” He kisses your leg where he’d bitten you, “No, thinking about you. About us.”

“Eddie?” You ask again. Your heart beats fast with worry and your face screws up. You sit up a little so he can see you better, leaning back on your elbows.

His grin puts your thoughts at ease. But still, he looks mischievous. You nudge him with your foot when he doesn’t elaborate.

After a beat, he says, “Want you to sit on my face.”

Your breath catches, “What?”

Eddie chuckles, “Want you to ride my face, baby. Like when I eat you out, but you’re on top.”

You laugh like he’s joking, But when he doesn’t join in with your unsure laughter, break out with a stupid joke, your voice rises in pitch, “I’ll squash you, Eddie.”

He kisses further up your leg until he’s at the width of skin between your cunt and thigh. It tickles and he grins when you shiver, “That’s the whole point.” He says into your skin, voice low and sultry.

“C’mon, Eddie.”

He looks up at you, eyes stern but still with that stupid grin, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding, you won’t squash me. But it’ll feel good. Promise.”

The thought of sitting on his face scares you, but the way your tummy tingles and your thighs instinctively move to rub together has you thinking that it might be okay. It could be…fun.

Eddie crawls up your body until he’s leaning up on his hands beside you. His face hovers above yours and your cheeks tickle when he breathes out. Moving down to catch your lips with his, he says, “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, you know that right?”

You would never feel pressured with Eddie. Never. You nod reassuringly before turning to kiss his forearm beside your head. “I know.”

“But…” He pauses, “I think you’ll have a lot of fun.”

“How do you know that?”

Eddie looks offended, face screwed up, “You think I don’t know my girl?” He pokes you in the side of your ribs and you squirm, bursting into a fit of light, airy giggles. “I know how much you love it when I fuck you with my tongue.” Your breath catches but not because of the tickling. He knows you too well. Reads you for filth. But, who wouldn’t love it? “But, I’ll love it more if you’ll sit on my face.”

 He’s working you up, you can tell. You hate that it’s working.

It doesn’t take much more convincing. Just some reassuring before he’s laying flat on his back, naked and too ready, and you sit at his side.

He pats his chest, skin slapping, with a smirk he knows you detest, “C’mon, baby. Up here.”

You roll your eyes, “I hate you.”

He tuts, and braces your legs until you’ve climbed over his chest, thighs on either side of his ribs, “No. You don’t.”

He palms at your thighs, tugging to ease you down. You lean down until your centre is snug against his chest. Eddie shivers at the wet warmth, still grinning stupidly when he watches you settle. Folds spreading below his pecs.  

You spread your hands over his chest, bracing yourself for what’s to come.

You, you think, giggling.

Eddie palms your thighs, smile turning confused, “What’s so funny?”

You shake your head, “This is so stupid.’’

“You think?”

Eddie looks at you, genuinely concerned. Brows high and pinched. You melt when he massages your skin lovingly. You feel so eased it’s a little scary. Maybe it can be both, you think. Daunting because you’re outside your comfort zone, but calm because you’re doing it with Eddie.

“No, no.” You shake your head, “No, I’m being stupid.”

“What? No, you’re not.” He says, soothingly, “Just take a breath, yeah?”

You do. You breathe deeply as he grasps your thighs to shuffle you closer up his body. You stop when you hover just above his neck. His breath feels hot against you and you clench unthinkingly. “You’ll tell me if you want me to get off?” You squeak, bracing the headboard with a too-tight grip. Your hands shake around the wood.

“My mouth might be a little full, baby.” He chuckles.

“I’m serious, Eddie. Pinch me or something.”

He pinches you and can’t help but glare at him. Stoic, he says, “Okay, yeah, I’ll pinch you or something. Just, fuck, sit on me already baby, Wanna taste you.”

“Okay.” You say breathlessly.

He guides you until you hover above his face. You close your eyes before he leans up to kiss your clit. You still don’t have the strength in you to sit completely on him yet. Still wary.

Slowly, he kisses at your skin. Over your folds, wet with anticipation, hot lips roving over you. He darts his tongue to catch your bead in his mouth and you jolt. Your legs kind of buckle and he takes his opportunity to pull you flat against his face, nose pressing into your mound.

He hooks his arms over your legs and pulls until you’re completely snug against his mouth, like the space between you is too big. Like he can’t get you close enough. With a probing tongue, it runs down to your weeping hole to gather your slick, dragging it back up to flick around your clit.

With every exploring lick, you jolt and twitch. Eddie laughs through you and it only causes more twitching. He pushes up under the hood of your clit and swirls, and swirls and swirls. Laps at you like he’s a thirsty man. 

His fingers press cruelly into the dough of your thighs and you have to stable yourself against the bed. Chancing a look down at where he’s sat below you. His head bobs back and forth, and his fringe crushes against your clit with a numbing pressure. It tickles and you can’t help but squirm against his face.

You push down with your thighs to balance yourself, bringing your hands to his forehead to brush away his hair from his face.

Grinning and messy, he pulls back from you, wet with a glistening sheen of your slick. Groaning, he says, “Fuck, baby. Makin such a mess.” Slurping, he darts his tongue back out to catch the dribbling wet like he can’t waste any. “Taste so fucking good.”

“Eds.” You whine, tugging at his hair probably too roughly. Hating the teasing in such a compromising position.

“Okay, sorry.” He doesn’t waste any time in wrapping his lips back around you. He’s slurping and licking, and if you had it in you, you’d be embarrassed. But, it’s too late for that now.

At a pace that has your fingers flexing through his hair and your legs shaking, he laps at you, pulling you close again. With his nose prodding into you just above your clit. You feel your high building in no time when he slides his hands along to use his thumbs to spread you open.

He explores your hole with his probing muscle for a quick moment, licking his way back up to flick at your clit again and you clamp your legs around his head, shoulders digging into your ass. Unravelling in his strong grip, he palms and licks until you feel yourself jolting with overwhelming pleasure.

You rock yourself against his wet face, trying to search for a release that feels excruciatingly close. Your legs tingle and your tummy aches in the best possible way. A whimpering, stimulated mess. When the feeling begins, you grind down, using his hair for stability.

Fucking yourself along his tongue, a searing heat overwhelms you, cunt clenching around nothing as you moan and cry out. You seize up around him and your knuckles turn white where they grip the headboard when his head switches movements, wriggling his face against the flat of your cunt, nudging every last nerve ending. 

When you begin to pant heavily, you remember yourself and where you’re sitauted. “Fuck,” Pushing yourself from his face and down between his legs. Squeezing your own legs shut. 

There’s a beat of only panting and sniffling before he sits up, smiling madly. You blink, panting out a sorry.

He chuckles deeply, “Fuck, baby. That was insane. You’re insane.”

You push yourself onto your ass until you sit. He pouts, “Stop, c’mere.”

He reaches out for you and let him grasp your arm and willingly pull you into his lap. You can feel his hard-on underneath your bare ass, pushing up against you. He kisses your neck, travelling up to your cheek with sloppy, wet kisses, stopping where your eyebrow ends, right across your temple. “Did,” Kiss. “Did you have fun?” Kiss.

Beaming, you say, “Yeah, I think I did.”

“You think?” He asks indignantly, a little faux offended, “Babe, you squeezed me so hard with those pretty thighs I couldn’t hear.”

You slap his chest, “Stop it.”

“It was quite rude actually. Couldn’t hear you moaning for me.” He laughs.

“Oh, poor Eds.” You entertain his teasing for a moment. He’s too cute.

He presses his nose into your neck, kissing for a moment and there are only the noises from his mouth before he nudges your face and says, “Oh, Eddie!” He moans, voice all high to impersonate you. You clamp your hand around his bicep, “Fuck, Eddie! Don’t stop! Fuck feels so good!”

You nudge him in his side and frown, “Stop. I don’t sound like that.”

He pecks you once more, “You’re right, baby. You sound much prettier.”

You roll your eyes like he didn’t actually do a good impression of you. You do kinda sound like that. You hate him.

gif — kwistowee !

[floralcyanide]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴏꜰ ᴘᴇᴀᴄᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴍɪɴᴅ — ᴄᴀʟʟᴜᴍ ᴛᴜʀɴᴇʀ

callum turner x fem!reader (nsfw)

In which a chance reconnection with your ex, Callum Turner, brings you to his hotel room- and he talks you through more than just your breakup.

✣ warnings: smut, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, language, female anatomy described, nipple play, finger sucking, fingering, mutual orgasm, love confessions

✣ word count: 2.7k

✣ author’s note: I wrote half of this weeks ago and just finished it. hope ya'll enjoy ((:

masterlist | divider credit: @cafekitsune

based on this song | the death of peace of mind - bad omens

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

The last thing on your mind today was running into your ex, Callum Turner, yet here you are. 

He’s sitting adjacent to you in the script reading session for your new movie- and you had no idea of the cast until today, so seeing him was an absolute surprise. You try your best to remain neutral and keep yourself from looking at him, but you find yourself glancing up at him frequently. He looks great, of course, which makes it hard not to stare. You remind yourself Callum is an ex for a reason and focus on your turns to read the script. Callum had broken up with you because he had found himself unsure of his feelings and hadn’t elaborated further on it before leaving. So, you have struggled for a while with self-confidence and identity. It’s not entirely his fault, but not knowing how he felt for you during your relationship did something to you emotionally and mentally. 

When the reading concluded, you tried your best to make a clean getaway, but Callum’s long strides and quick maneuvering skills got him to you in the hallway in record time. A gentle hand is placed on your shoulder in the sea of cast and crew exiting.

“Long time no see,” Callum flashes his brilliant smile at you once you turn to face him.

“Yeah,” you half-smile, “Sure has.”

Callum stares intently into your eyes for a few seconds longer than usual before he notices he hasn’t responded. He visibly shakes his head out of his mess of thoughts, “How have you been?”

“Could be better,” you shrug, “But I’ll be fine, always am.”

You keep your answers brief, with as little to go on as possible. 

“Would you like to meet at my hotel for coffee later? There’s a cafe in the lobby that’s pretty good,” Callum scratches the back of his neck, “I just need to talk to you about something and would rather do it somewhere other than the corridor,” he laughs nervously.

“Oh,” you purse your lips, momentarily looking down at your feet before answering, “I don’t know, Callum. Is it really a good idea for us to talk outside the set?”

Callum clears his throat, “Well. I was hoping to talk to you about that, actually. See, I didn’t tell you everything when we broke up about how I felt, and I think you deserve to know, ‘s all.”

You sigh, “I suppose knowing wouldn’t hurt, even though it’s been a year already. Why didn’t you come to me sooner?”

“I was afraid,” Callum admits, “I thought you hated me.”

You frown, “I don’t hate you, Callum. I promise.”

Callum brightens, “So you’ll meet me at the coffee shop? Tomorrow, maybe? Ten in the morning?”

“Fine,” you agree, “Tomorrow it is.”

Callum gives you the hotel’s address and leaves you in the hallway, turning as he walks away to wave goodbye.

You’re laying in bed that night staring at the ceiling. You still love Callum; don’t get yourself wrong. But if he didn’t feel the same, why entertain it? Besides, it seemed like he never really felt that way for you, and that’s why he dipped last year. At the same time, however, you don’t know that for sure because Callum didn’t tell you much. You guess you’ll find out more tomorrow. You roll over and will yourself to sleep.

You definitely need the caffeine upon waking the following day from tossing and turning all night. You get ready and take a cab from your apartment to the hotel Callum is staying at, nervous the entire ride there. When you arrive at the cafe, Callum is sitting on a couch by the window, aimlessly scrolling through his phone, waiting for you. He hopes you come and don’t change your mind.

“You made it!” Callum grins as you walk in, and he stands up to greet you with a kiss on the cheek. 

Your entire body burns at the contact, but you try your best to push your feelings aside, “Of course I did.”

The two of you order and return to the couch, where you hesitantly sit beside Callum, his thigh touching yours. You find it familiar and comforting but, at the same time, very nerve-wracking. 

“So,” Callum turns to face you, “Do you mind me explaining everything? I promise you don’t owe me your time; I just feel you deserve to know why I left.”

“I don’t mind,” you say honestly, “In fact, I’d feel better hearing it.”

“Alright,” Callum nods, “To be honest, I was scared. I had feelings for you I had never felt for anyone before, and I didn’t know how to handle them.”

You focus on Callum’s words, carefully turning them over in your head, “I understand.”

“I loved you, you know,” Callum rubs his palms on his thighs, a nervous laugh leaving his lips, “And I fucked it up.”

You stare at him wordlessly, unsure of how to respond.

“Still do, actually. Love you.”

Your ears begin to ring, and you almost don’t hear your names being called for your coffee orders until Callum stands up and walks over to retrieve them. He loved you? Still loves you, rather? Your facial expression- one of shock- is still apparent when Callum sits back down next to you and offers you your drink.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you exhale the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, “I just didn’t expect that.”

“You don’t have to return those feelings, by the way. I just needed to tell you that’s how I felt then and still feel now.”

“Despite leaving me a little lost a year ago, a part of me still loves you too, Cal. But I don’t know what to do with that.”

“It’s up to you, sweetheart. We don’t have to do anything if that’s what you wish.”

“How do I know you really love me?” you blurt, shocking yourself with your words.

Callum puts a hand on your knee, “You can trust me, or I can prove it to you.”

Clutching your untouched drink in your hand, you wonder what he could mean by that.

“Prove it how?”

“You know a thing or two about that, I think,” Callum says suggestively, and your body burns like fire again.

You scoff, “I do. But how do I know you won’t just up and leave again after? Hmm?”

“I won’t,” Callum grabs your unoccupied hand, “I won’t this time, I promise. I don’t think I could leave you again.”

“Okay, then,” you admit defeat, “Show me just how much you really love me, Mr. Turner.”

Callum leads you to the elevator, where he presses the floor button and stands beside you, eyeing you up and down. When the doors close, he pulls you to his side as he finishes his coffee. You rest your head on his arm, sipping your own drink. Callum’s hand grips your waist, his touch hot even through your clothes. You're nearly shaking with nerves when you reach the top floor. The two of you had your go-arounds while together, of course. But it was never anything emotionally charged. You’re hoping Callum really does show you how much he loves you this time and doesn’t leave you hanging. He lets you follow him to his room, where he fumbles to unlock the door with his phone. Callum heads to the windows to close the drapes, his back muscles rippling under his shirt, much to your delight. He turns around and catches your gaze, maintaining eye contact with you as he returns to where you stand. Callum wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling you to him after you sit your coffee down. He is taller than you, so you have to look up at him when standing so close. A closed-lip smile spreads on his face as he takes in your features. Callum pushes a stray strand of hair out of your face before leaning in.

“Do you want this?” he asks, his lips barely brushing against yours.

“Yes,” you whisper, “I do want this. Prove it to me.”

Callum captures your lips with his finally, and everything negative you felt about your relationship falls away. The comfort you’ve always found in him flows back into you as he guides his tongue along your bottom lip. Callum’s hands find your hair, where they tangle themselves in your locks for leverage. You allow him to explore your mouth softly as if it was his first time in uncharted territory. Your arms are around him, and your palms are settled on his back as he slowly moves the two of you over to the giant bed in the middle of the suite. You sit on the edge of it as Callum pulls his shirt off. He’s a little more muscular than the last time you saw him. You drink in his broad shoulders and toned chest, his thick biceps resting by your head as his fists dig into the mattress on either side of your legs. Callum is leaning over you, his demeanor shifting to something more dominant. He kisses you again before his hand moves to your chin, tilting your head to meet his gaze.

“Go lay on the pillows and get ready for me.”

A surge of excitement rushes through your veins as you nod, moving backward to where the pillows sit at the top of the bed. You peel off your shirt and jeans, kicking them off the side of the bed onto the floor where your shoes are haphazardly lying. Callum climbs over you, taking in the sight of you. He lays beside you, patting his spread, underwear-clad thighs for you to sit. You oblige, his chest pressed to your back as you relax into his embrace. Callum’s large hands rub over your hips and legs, his skin hot against yours. He buries his nose into your neck, leaving a trail of kisses along your shoulder and up your throat. Callum then lightly traces your jaw with his tongue before he reaches your ear, nibbling the shell of it. His hands travel from your thighs to your hips, all the way up your sides, until they reach your covered breasts. He squeezes them as he sucks a mark behind your ear, out of sight. You squirm lightly in his lap, inhaling sharply through your nose at the feeling of his teeth on your sensitive skin. Moving your hair out of the way from your ears, Callum continues his assault of bites on the back of your neck as his fingers slip underneath the cups of your bra. You hum as his fingers toy with your nipples, your head tossed back against his shoulder as he does so. This gives him more access to your neck, where he leaves open-mouthed kisses on the skin there. You feel him grow hard against your tailbone as he twists and rubs your sensitive nubs, eliciting moans from you.

“I miss the way you say my name,” Callum whispers in your ear, letting one of his hands travel back down to your stomach, where he slips a hand beneath the band of your underwear, “Say it.”

“Callum,” you gasp as his fingers ghost your heat, lightly brushing against your clit.

“Just like that, doll,” Callum grins into your shoulder, where his lips press to your skin.

He helps you out of your underwear, pulling it down your legs until you’re able to kick them off. Callum tosses one of your legs over his thigh, giving him easier access to you. You reach behind your back to unhook your bra, throwing it off the side of the bed.

“Kind of unfair that I’m the only naked one,” you frown.

“Be patient, I want to play with you first,” Callum kisses your cheek.

He prods your lips open with two of his fingers, allowing you to suck them in. You lave your tongue around them, coating them with your spit enough for Callum to be satisfied, “Good girl,” he coos.

He then gently circles your clit with his two slicked fingers, and your hips buck involuntarily. He uses his other arm to press you firmly against him. Callum continues to play with the bundle of nerves before letting a finger test your entrance to gauge how wet you’ve become. He’s able to slip a finger inside without struggle, curling it against the familiar spot that makes you groan. As he adds another finger, you grip Callum’s arm as his fingertips massage your g spot. 

“Callum, please,” you whine.

“Please, what?” Callum feels himself getting painfully harder against your back at the sounds you’re making, “Gotta use your words.”

“Show me how much you love me,” you beg, “Fuck me already.”

“Impatient, are we?” Callum smirks before removing his fingers from you and putting them in his mouth this time, relishing the wetness of your cunt, “God, the way you taste,” he moans.

Callum moves you over and off his lap so he can remove his pants and underwear before hovering over you. He braces himself on his arms on either side of your head, bringing his face to yours, “Are you sure you want this?” he asks again.

“Yes,” you say, grabbing his face and looking him in the eye, “I want this.”

“Not that your begging wasn’t enough; I just needed to hear you say it,” he jokes, lining himself up to your entrance.

You playfully smack his chest before digging your nails into it as he pushes inside you slowly. You wrap an arm around his neck, tangling your fingers into his hair. Callum fully seats himself inside you, his forehead pressed to yours. You wrap a leg around his waist, pulling him closer to you. Callum focuses on breathing properly, as your clenching around him makes it hard not to pound you into the mattress. You wiggle your hips a little, letting him know he could move. Callum holds your hips up, moving your legs over his shoulders to get a better angle. He pulls out just enough to thrust back in, gaining a steady rhythm. The noises you let out just urge Callum to go faster and harder as he kisses along your thighs.

“I love you,” Callum says, biting down on your thigh and causing you to yelp, which makes him grin.

“I love you too,” you say breathlessly, your hands gripping his biceps for leverage.

“Do you believe me when I say it now?” Callum bites his lip, feeling your walls clenching harder around him.

You’re close, and he can feel it. He reaches between your bodies and presses a thumb to your clit, rubbing tight circles against it.

“Yes,” you say, almost illegible, “Fuck, I believe you, Cal.”

“Good,” he pants, sweat beading on his forehead.

Your fingernails dig into his muscles as you feel yourself about to let go, your stomach tightening into a knot. Callum feels his orgasm creeping up as he snaps his hips faster against your ass, his grip on your thighs almost bruising. Your orgasm hits suddenly, like a tsunami of pleasure taking over your senses. Your body shakes as Callum’s own climax surges through him, your convulsing cunt milking his cock. You’re both gasping for air as Callum lets your back fall against the bed as he pulls out, collapsing next to you. 

“That was…”

“Amazing?” Callum turns his head to look at you, 

“Yeah,” you’re quick to pull the duvet over you as your sweat cools on your skin, “Better than any time before, honestly.”

“Agreed,” Callum puts an arm behind his head to rest on, “I’m still sorry for not telling you how I felt. I didn’t really know what it was at the time.”

“It’s okay now, Cal,” you roll over on your side, putting a hand on his chest, “You don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

Callum kisses the top of your head, “Okay. I won’t.”

The next day, when the script is read over again, tensions are definitely not as high. You don’t struggle as much with your lines, and being around Callum is easier. You’re glad it all worked out; maybe this time, it’ll last without confusion.

[digital-domain]

slip

Feitan x Reader drabble // word count 1.5k

In which you dream about someone you shouldn’t, and talk in your sleep.

Tags/Warnings: yandere, kidnapped reader, mention of blood and gore (past and imagined), knives, implied noncon, implied threat of death (to reader), implied murder (not reader), reader is gonna be fucked up over this forever

A/N: first time writing this man, not sure how I feel about it but it’s either post or stare at it forever

As always - 18+, read the tags, if you don’t like the tags then don’t go below the cut. Thank you and enjoy.

There is a knife against your throat, and you barely know how it got there, much less why. You didn’t do anything. Didn’t run, didn’t try to shove your tormentor away, didn’t tell him that you wished he was dead, or worse. You wouldn’t have had the time to do these things, even if you wanted to. You hadn't been awake for a second before his hand stirred from where it had lain on your waist. And now - the blade twitches, slightly. It doesn’t press quite hard enough to make you bleed, but certainly enough to make you picture what would happen if it did. If it kept going, long past the point where red rivulets stained the threadbare sheets beneath you.

A small noise escapes your mouth. You get nothing in response. It takes time for Feitan to speak, when there’s something on his mind.

It’s taking too long, even for him.

Last night, you thought you were safe. He kissed you, after meticulously washing a stranger’s blood out from beneath his nails. He watched you fall asleep, kept a hand on you until exhaustion finally forced you to nod off in the early hours of the morning. The strange affection he gives you is worse than any cruelty you could imagine, but not nearly as bad as the thought that somehow, you’ve managed to lose it. There are no words in your mind, now, only scattered images of what might happen, what you might become, the barely-recognizable thing strewn out across the floor -

“What were you dreaming about?” Feitan’s voice is dull and quiet, as always. Like he’s asking you this over breakfast, and not on what could be your deathbed.

You don’t remember, and you don’t answer. There is no air left for you to speak. 

“What were you dreaming about?” he repeats. It’s almost the same voice, but there’s a hint of urgency, now. The barest hint - but you’ve grown used to interpreting the faint indications he gives you. “Talk.”

“I don’t”- You gasp, but seem to take in nothing. “-don’t remember”-

“You were talking when you were sleeping.” 

Statements like these are dangerous. He expects you to understand what he means, always. He does not like to elaborate.

“I…” You screw your eyes shut, try to forget where you are just enough to remember where you were. “It was night. In the dream. And I was…” Oh. No. You can’t say that part out loud. Never, ever, ever. When you open your eyes, your vision is blurry. They close once more, of their own accord. “I was sitting with someone. Talking.” Someone. Someone has no face, no name - you pray that he’ll let you leave it at that. That he won’t ask for more.

“You said…” His face is close to the back of your neck, and yet, you cannot feel his breath on your skin. “When you were sleeping, you said I love you.”

Your stomach threatens to infringe upon your throat. You curse your sleeping mind for giving you something beautiful to dream of, and for letting it slip out of your mouth. Beautiful things do not survive here, and your mouth is always better kept shut. 

“Who?” 

You’d think, in your present situation, that you wouldn’t have enough room in your head to feel terrified for anyone else. But you do. Terrified enough to try something stupid. 

You’re sure Feitan can feel the tension in your body, the instinctual way it readies itself for a fight (you would lose instantly) or an attempt at escape (you wouldn’t make it an inch). “It wasn’t about”- you choke on your own breath, try again. “It wasn’t about anyone real. Just a dream-person.”

“Bad liar,” he accuses. You do not protest. It was pointless to try. 

And yet, you try again. You know that your answer matters. Enough for you to force more lies across the blade that still presses against your skin. “Someone I used to date. A long time ago.” Really, it was only a few weeks before Feitan….found you that things ended. But time is subjective - it certainly feels like a long time has passed since then. 

“Oh.” If he suspects that you’re lying again, he doesn’t say it. But he does tend to leave a lot of things unsaid. 

“He”- You suck in a breath as the knife twitches again. The movement is not an accident. It’s never an accident - his hands are unnaturally steady, when he wants them to be. “He ended things. I don’t think he thinks about me anymore.” This needs to be true. He needs to believe that it’s true, or-

“But you still think about him.” 

Your stomach churns. “It was just a dream.” Technically not a lie, either. You’d have to say no for it to be a lie.

Feitan pauses for a moment. You’d have expected him to be furious, to take this out on you in some unimaginably awful way. Instead you hear a single sigh, feel it soft against your skin. “He let you go.” He sounds almost confused, his muted voice drawn out just enough to make his resentment clear. The knife turns slightly, and this time, you’re not sure if it was on purpose. “He must be stupid.”

You bite down on the inside of your lip, sharp and hard enough to tear a bit of the lining away. It’s awful when he says these things. Words that could be sweet, if you removed everything around them.

“I can’t control what I dream about,” you whisper, almost too quiet to be heard. “I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” He withdraws the blade, swings his feet off the bed - the floor, decrepit as it is, should creak when he stands, but it never does. “You don’t need to tell me anything else.”

You know better than to be relieved, so you turn over, to your other side, and fix your gaze on the floor. Watch him carefully, indirectly. You listen, your breath almost as silent as his, as he picks up his jacket from the end of your bed, puts it on. 

And he smiles. His face is covered, but you see it in his eyes. “I can figure out the rest.” 

The rest. 

Your heart hammers, but your blood stands still. Frozen in your veins. You know why he’s put on his jacket. Why he’s leaving. Where he’s going.

The knife still dangling from Feitan’s hand catches a shard of your reflection, a smudged picture of a terrified eye that disappears before you can look any closer.

The rest. Name, face, address - all too easy. There are clues in your confiscated possessions, in the place where you used to live. 

It’s as if the knife is still held to your throat. No. It’s as if your skin has already broken beneath it. You do not think in words. You think in gory pictures, infinitely clearer than the haze you see before forcing your eyes shut. Your blood, mixing with what you’re sure will be on that blade by day’s end. Skin-gushing-red-bones-out-something being buried, dirty hands returning to you, staining your face, your clothes, the things underneath, silent breath coming alive, painfully soft in your ear -

You open your eyes. You want to scream at him to stop, to stay. But your mouth stays shut.

“I won’t draw it out.” For a moment, he looks down, and you swear you see his face color. Like he’s said something overly sweet, and can barely stand it. “I promise.”

It’s enough to make it real. Enough to unseal your lips. “Don’t…” You should be yelling. But it’s all you can do, finding enough strength to make a near-silent, desperate appeal. “Please. You don’t have to. I’m not going to - to run. To him or anyone else. I’m not gonna do anything. I don’t - it was just a dream…”

“Stop.” His smile drops, eyes narrow. Voice even quieter than usual, deathly calm.

You go silent. Perfectly still.

“If you keep trying to save him, I’ll break my word. I already want to.” 

You forget how to breathe. 

This can’t be a choice you have to make. This can’t be in your hands. There are words in your head, finally, and you can’t say them. 

You have to say them.

“I’m sorry.” 

"Okay." He stares at you for far too long, unblinking. For seconds, or maybe hours, or maybe days - they’re all the same, to you, now. “It’s okay.”

No. He is unforgivably wrong. Nothing will ever be okay again. You’re in some other world, in your mind, and it’s going to take more than you have to yank you out of it. 

You can barely see him in front of you. His voice reverberates strangely in your head. But when he moves, it’s like your senses pull themselves together. You realize that your eyes are wet, that a tear is rolling down the bridge of your nose, that you can breathe after all, but only in ragged gasps…

“You look…nice…when you cry.” He drops his gaze once more, tugs up on the cloth that covers his face. His smile is back, creasing the corners of his eyes, and it is the ugliest thing you have ever seen. “Wonder if he thought that, too.”

[jame7t]

Why so _______

- The ______

Fill in the blanks!

“Why songbirds?” She asked, fiddling with the faux-feathers. “Wouldn’t a corvid be a better fit for a… spy?”

Melvik rolled his eyes again, as if spywork and the elaborate creation of false-life was a simple thing that his temporary protégée was failing to grasp. “Sure, yeah, ravens are nosy little fucks- but when you see one, you watch it. They’re smart. You look at birds like that. You can feel them watching you. And watch one too closely…”

“…you’ll notice it’s fake,” she finished. “Okay, but why songbirds? They make so much noise.”

“It gets drowned out in the pack. Flock. Whatever. And that’s the point, too. Nobody expects a spy to make noise.” He leaned back from the desk, a single false bird complete- one more to the pile. He plucked the soon-to-chirp thing from the wooden bench, and placed it on the metal sheet her siblings sat motionless on. “Five-four. I take the lead again.”

Gloria furrowed her brows at him- it’s not her fault she’s the only halfwit in the spire who knows about faux-life the month before deployment. “Where IS your little helper, anyway? How come I’m stuck here helping you?”

Melvik leaned forward awkwardly to start on another songbird. “He decided he’s an aspirant.” He spit the word.

“Little Crug? He’s an aspirant?”

Melvik raised his eyes to meet Gloria, and gave a single small nod.

“Good lord- The other children call him Crug, how is he gonna be an aspirant?”

“He’s not. He’ll wash out.”

“Right.” Gloria looked down at the spy in her hands, realizing she’d inserted a feather backwards. “Fuck.”

Continuing as if they hadn’t reached the natural stopping point, Melvik sighed- “It’s like he’s ignored everything he’s good at in favor of something that’s get him killed even if he doesn’t flunk out. Which, mind you, he will!”

Fumbling with a misplaced leg, his rant continues.

“Even if he does, somehow, become a pilot, which one would he even drive? The Mercello? The damn Mercello? We need things other than Titans to protect the Keep!”

Gloria nods, half listening. She opens her mouth to interject- not yet sure if she agrees- but Melvik isn’t done.

“He’s going to wash out of training, and when he comes back with half his motor functions intact, he’s gonna be sorry when I don’t let him back in. I can’t!” He meets Gloria’s eyes. “It’d be a security risk at that point. You get it, don’t you?”

She gives him an uncertain half-smile; the act of becoming an aspirant is seen as noble- a sacrifice, even. But those who ‘wash out’ are not often kept in high regards. Gloria’s cousin was one such unfortunate aspirant.

Melvik sees the uncertainty and relents- his eyes close, and he opens them to view the rotten thing in his hand. He managed to insert both legs backwards in his anger- and maybe, he dreaded, his age.

“I just needed one. One guarantee this craft wouldn’t be lost when… when I lose it.”

Gloria grimaced- she didn’t think her workmanship was that bad. “I’m sure there’s others who’ll keep it up. You know? You’re not the only weaver.”

“Nobody knows how to weave like I do.”

“And why’s that? What’s your special secret?”

“Nobody knows how- they-“

“Come on, then! Spill it! Nobody knows how to what?!”

“Fill in the blanks!”

Gloria rolled her eyes. “That’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” he groans, continuing far past the natural stopping point. “Real songbirds don’t just ‘start and stop’- real foxes don’t just sit and watch. You have to make them real. You have to make them feel real.”

“So what you’re saying is, the director pays you extra because you play with puppets.” She meant it as an insult- she certainly thought so.

Melvik grins.

He looks to the small, soon to chirp thing in his hands- legs corrected, little beady eyes ready to see. “Yeah…”

He envisions the Titans- the pilots sitting within their puppet-rigs, marching along the ocean front; watching for the minions of the Corpse Moon to meet them along the coastal crags.

“Puppets.”

Maybe he does understand.

[after-witch]

Seeker [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Title: Seeker [Yandere Mahito x reader]

Synopsis: Mahito wants to play a game. Just a lil thing I had to write after Mahito's line about wanting to hunt down humans in the woods from the most recent JJK ep.

Word count: 2000ish

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, mentions of malnourishment, reader isn't having a good ol' time, mahito is his own warning

If you were prone to long bouts of deep thought in your current state of existence, you might ask yourself: How did it come to this? How did you go from an ordinary life of going to work, coming home, running errands, going to bed, going to work, coming home, running errands, going to bed, going to work--

To this? 

To being held captive by some unknowable cursed creature with a patchwork face and a penchant for wild, impulsive violence?

To being pinched and held and kissed at his whims, to being kept inside a crude cage at night with a nest of blankets as your only comfort? 

He had offered to let you sleep with him inside the hammock the first time you quietly asked if you could have a mattress, perhaps three weeks into your captivity, although your sense of time was no longer cohesive. But you thought about it (pressed so close to him, vulnerable, awkward, fumbling--) and shook your head, so he shrugged, grinning, and shut the door on your cage instead.)

You had only brought up the issue once more, pointing out that people slept on beds or mattresses, and if he was going to keep you then could you at least get something more comfortable than a few blankets on top of a metal cage bottom? 

And he’d simply tilted his head and said, in a tone that might be called innocent if the phrase wouldn’t have immediately evaporated in his vicinity--

“Huh?” He looked genuinely perplexed, and you remember the twisting feeling it created in your stomach to see such a human-like expression on  him. “But humans keep their pets in kennels, don’t they?” He had gestured towards the water bottle and bag of expired Family Size chips he’d thrown in your cage a few days prior, brows furrowed, voice petulant. “I even keep your food inside so you can eat when I’m gone! Most of them don’t do that!”  

You shut up, then, and you certainly didn’t ask him to elaborate on his referral to you as his pet.

You don’t ask for elaboration on much nowadays, because you’ve decided it’s often better not to know. It’s better not to know how he chooses the victims that he transforms into monsters. It’s better not to know how conscious they are, when their mouths form pleas and screams. It’s better not to know if you’ll ever end up like them, writhing and deformed. 

Except now, you are being hurled into a completely new situation that has every nerve in your body frayed and burning, and that need to know what the hell is happening grows stronger with every step.

He’s taken you out. Out of the drain and into the light--the brightness and softness of the outside world hurts as much as it provides a twisting sort of relief, competing furiously with the fear growing in your belly. 

And, more specifically, he’s dragged you into the forest. Off the marked paths, pulling you here and there like a ragdoll while you trip and stumble to keep up with him, all the while he intermingles assurances of how fun this will be (“You’ll love it, I promise~!”) with giggles that make your stomach lurch.

Until finally he stops, in the middle of the woods. It’s both familiar and unfamiliar; the droning chirps of insects looking for mates, the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze. Gnats buzz by your face but you’re too frightened to swat them away with your free hand, as Mahito has yet to release his grip on your wrist. He has yet to even turn around, instead looking around him--up and about, grinning, almost closing his eyes as if he’s forgotten that you’re there at all. 

Finally, you can’t take it anymore. You have to know.

“Mahito?” Your voice cracks, dry from what little water you had today and the trek into the forest.

His eyes widen--like he’s just recalled your existence--and slowly, he turns his head towards you, a wide grin on his face.

“Ye-ee-es?” 

You grit your teeth. You try not to sound frustrated or heaven--not that you think it exists, anymore--forbid, look frustrated, because that usually doesn’t end well. 

“I was just…” You swallow, thick, and smile a little. “Wondering why we’re out here. Not--not that I’m complaining. It’s… really nice.”

He giggles. Which can be good or bad, and you’re not sure which of those two his current mood falls under yet.

And then he yanks your wrist, and pulls you close to him. You stumble against his chest, but he catches you, and keeps you still.

“We’re going to play a game.”

Oh. It was a bad giggle. At least for you.

“A… game?” You shouldn’t ask, you don’t want to know. But this isn’t the type of thing Mahito will let you close your eyes about, is it? 

There’s an awful giddiness in his voice as he continues.

“Yes! I read about it in a book. Oh!” He grins. “And I’ve seen kids playing it at playgrounds. It’s called tag.” He pauses, and then continues, as if explaining something remarkably patiently to a child. “One person is the seeker, and they seek the other person until they find them and tag them! And then that person is the seeker.”

He’s going to chase you. He’s going to chase you. He’s going to--

You wonder if the feeling of your nerves trying to leave your body through your feet can show on your soul. Probably, because Mahito reaches up and squishes your lips together with his fingers.

“Don’t worry! I’ll be the seeker first, so you don’t have to worry about not catching me.” He stretches his neck to one side and smiles, giving a satisfied sigh. “I’m so generous, right?” 

“Mahito,” you say, and you say his name again because he likes it when you do, “Mahito, I’m… not good at games like this. Wouldn’t you rather just have a picnic today? Or we could…” You look around, fumbling for something that doesn’t involve you running through the woods being chased by a monster.

He pouts. Honest-to-goodness pouts, puffing up his cheek, looking hurt and frustrated. 

And then he whirls you around and presses himself up against your back, and the silly pout has drained from his body and his voice as he whispers low in your ear, dark and tinged with something distinctly inhuman. 

“I’ll give you 60 seconds. That’s enough time, isn’t it, for a human like you?” You can feel goosebumps dotting the back of your neck, and you jolt when one of his fingers traces them on your skin. “Let’s see… how about we play for 5 minutes? And if I catch you, I get to play a different game with you! One you haven’t been letting me play…” 

Fear constricts your throat. You don’t ask what this ‘different’ game is because the thought of knowing might just make you vomit.

You already feel like you might, bile and fear sticky in your stomach. This is happening. It’s going to happen. You can’t stop it. 

He blows a puff of air in your ear, and the dark thread of tension has dissolved as he gives you a playful shove. You can hear the grin back in his voice. 

He claps once, twice, three times. 

“And… ready… set… go!” 

You propel yourself forward on shaky legs and malnourished muscles. How long has it been since you’ve run anywhere? Much less in the woods, wearing worn out shoes, with a curse who could do worse than kill you with a single touch just yards behind you. 

“Oh!” You hear his voice from behind you, distinct but growing fainter. “I’ll start counting, okay?”

You don’t answer--you couldn’t even if you wanted to, chest heaving and breath panting from exertion already--but keep putting your feet to the ground, desperate to put as much distance between you and Mahito in 60 seconds as you can.

“One… two…”

Should you run in a straight line for much longer? 

“Three… four…”

Maybe you should turn another way, and make it harder for him to reach you.

“Five… six…”

You might even be able to find somewhere to hide, right? The woods could have tree hollows or caves or something, anything, that could give you some cover. You could wait out the 5 minutes in hiding, rather than trying to run.

“Seven… eight… nine…”

Your brain makes your decision for you, and you veer off to the left, keeping your legs pumping as fast as you can. His voice is getting fainter with every second counted, which must mean you’re making the right choice.

“Ten.”

Your body jerks itself back just as Mahito appears in front of you, hands on his hips, a sly grin on his face.

“Found you!”

Your legs stumble back, a weak attempt to turn and run, but he grabs your wrists and keeps you from getting anywhere. It’s not fair. It’s not--

You shake your head and feel the anger coming despite your fear and heaving chest and his firm grip on your wrists. 

“You… you said you’d give me sixty seconds! That was only ten!”

Mahito shakes his own head, soft hair falling over his shoulders. “Mm… I said I’d give you sixty seconds, and I am! You’ve got mmm…” He considers, tilting his head. “40 seconds left or so.” 

What is he talking about? You furrow your eyebrows. “But you… you said you’d give me a 60 second head start.”

He blinks at you, and you hate how he can look so innocent, despite everything. You hate even more that you’re never entirely sure when he’s being genuinely naive or pretending. “Nuh-uh. I didn’t say I wouldn’t run in those 60 seconds, too, just that you had 60 seconds. You really ought to pay attention when someone’s explaining the rules of a game!” 

He grins foolishly at you and all you can do is tug at your wrists, hoping he’ll either make a mistake and let go or get bored of holding you and let you try to run for it again. But he does neither, simply keeping a firm grip on you while you pull and pull, feet digging into the ground. 

Useless. Stupid. Weak.

The tears come, then. Ugly and hot, making your face squish and your lips curl even as you continue to uselessly pull against his grip. You were never going to get away and he knew it and you knew it, too, but did he have to make it so cruel? 

“Th-th…this isn’t fair,” you choke out, your tears thickening your voice. 

Mahito does release one wrist, then, but only so he can wipe at your tears roughly with his thumb and lick it afterwards. 

“D-D-Don’t be a spoilsport,” he coos. Then he sighs, happy and content, like a cat who has gotten all the cream and more. “60 seconds is up, and I’ve still got you so… I win!”

He pulls on your wrist then, bringing you close to his chest. 

“That means you have to play what I want to play now, okay?”

You look into his mismatched eyes and you’re terrified of what you find. 

He leans forward and rubs his nose against your cheek, humming happily.

“You’ll like this one, I think.” You can feel his smile against your cheek, the upward tug of his muscles. “Although I can’t make any promises!” 

You don’t ask what game he wants to play now. 

Sometimes, it’s better not to know. 

[icysinner]

❆⋆꙳•☃︎⋆꙳•✩⋆꙳•❅

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡: eren is a better gift giver than you thought he was.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: not much, tooth rotting fluff.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.093k

secret santa was arguably the only thing that made christmas as a college student exciting. everyone knows that as you grow older, christmas gets less and less interesting, but with the right group of friends, it has the potential to be just as fun as when you lived at home with your parents and siblings. sasha always organized the secret santa event, just because she took every holiday seriously as if her friends were her children.

just eren’s luck, the one year he gets to be your secret santa is the year that up until christmas, your friendship was becoming a lot more than just friends, meaning he had to put together a gift that meant a lot, he had no choice, you meant a lot. “connie, i’m fucked.” eren complained as he paced back and forth in their shared dorm room. “you stressin’ over nothing, she already likes you, she’s gonna like whatever you get her as long as you put some thought into it.” connie replied, not looking up from his phone as he offered eren the advice.

while connie was right, eren wanted this gift to be more than just a friendly gift exchange, he wanted it to mean something more than just that. “that’s the problem, i have no thought.” eren said, his tone completely serious, making connie laugh at him. “okay, that’s fair. ask mikasa to help you, she’s a girl, she knows what girls like. plus she’s close to y/n, you’re like a close second to mikasa on her list.” connie’s suggestion showed just how little “thought” eren had, because he didn’t even think about asking mikasa, and that was your best friend.

౨ৎ⋆ ˚ ❆｡⋆⁺₊❅.

“so, are you asking her to be your girlfriend with this gift or is that coming later?” mikasa asked, being sure to throw in the whole girlfriend thing. to be fair, you and eren have been dancing around adding the title to whatever the two of you have going on. “i think i wanna ask, but i don’t know how to pair a gift with something like that.” eren said, mikasa was more surprised at the amount of time he was really putting into this, she’d never seen him think this hard before. (and they have an english lecture together, so trust her.) “i think that she’ll like whatever you get her. she likes a bunch of shit, pick one thing and do it.”

obviously eren had thought of that, but that was basic, and you have everything you like already. “okay, here’s an idea. make her a basket.” mikasa suggested, making what seemed like a lightbulb go off in eren’s mind. “actually… i like that idea.” eren said, a million ideas running through his mind at once. if you liked so many things, getting you all of them at once was obviously the best idea. oddly enough, eren trusted himself enough to make it completely on his own, it wouldn’t feel genuine if he didn’t, he thought.

౨ৎ⋆ ˚ ❆｡⋆⁺₊❅.

everyone was assigned a secret santa on december eighteenth, which gave them a full week to decide, put together and deliver a gift. eren spent the entire week buying separate things from a million different stores for this one basket. he only asked for help when he needed an opinion on a color or which gift cards he should put in the basket. he’d completed this elaborate gift, and now he had to shake off all his nervousness in order to actually give you the gift.

—

eren

wyd?

y/n

not shit

eren

perfect

eren

don’t go anywhere or do anything i’ll be there in like 5 minutes

y/n

i’m nervous omg why u so cryptic for???

—

obviously, eren was your secret santa, but that’s not why you were so nervous. if it was just a regular gift, why would he calculate everything so well? nonetheless, you were excited for whatever it was. you lived in a single dorm, but it was across campus from your friend group, which was the only downside it really had. after all of his perfectionist behavior, shifting the basket around a million times to make sure you could see everything he put in it perfectly before you took it out, he arrived at your door.

it took some building up for him to actually knock, and once he did, all of the nervousness he had multiplied yours tenfold. you nearly shot up from your seat to go answer the door, opening it to a smiling eren, holding a basket in one arm and a heart shaped box with flowers in the other. your eyes widened as your face grew into a smile. “eren, no way.” is all you managed to get out of your mouth as you stared at him in adoration and disbelief. “you’re not gonna be able to look at all of the stuff if you don’t let me in.” his words made you snap out of this trance you were in as you stepped out of the way to let him in.

eren took a couple steps forward and set the basket and flowers down on the counter, but he kept the box behind him. “look at what’s in there first.” he directed, because he knew you well enough to know that your curiosity would make you want to know what’s so special that he’s hiding it. you pulled all of the stuff out of the basket one by one, looking like a little kid under the christmas tree again. “eren, how much did you spend on all this stuff?” you asked, your eyes widening with every object you pulled out of the basket. “you worried about the wrong thing, that doesn’t matter. you like it, right?” eren asked, to which you responded with a nod. “then that’s all that matters.”

“i need to get a vase, i wanna keep these.” you said to yourself as you sat them up next to the basket to make space for the last thing eren was hiding from you. the small comment made eren smile to himself as he held out the box to you. you looked down at it, reading the red cursive letters written on the dessert. “yes, duh!” you exclaimed in excitement, taking the box from his hands and wrapping him in a hug. “i don’t even wanna eat it, i just wanna save it forever.” you said, making eren laugh at you. “you say that now, but i know you well enough to know you’ll definitely eat it.”