#faiths inbox

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Himbo wrestler!reader who no one knows charles is dating, just spills the beans accidentally on live tv at one of his matches while charles is there while, charles is proud (his boyfriend just won) exasperated (his boyfriend just outed him on live tv by accident, not that he didn't think this would happen but still) and slightly disgusted (his boyfriend is supremely sweaty and is starting to stink) he does give himbo!reader a kiss since he did promise both that and some hanky panky time later, the other drivers except maybe perrie are confused as fuck on how they meet.

(Go wild on how they meet, reader might have gone to monaco as vacation or something) but yeah himbo reader plz.

In the ring and outed||Charles leclerc x male!himbo!wrestler

Featuring Seth Rollins, CM punk Cody Rhodes Alex Albon, Pierre Gasly, George Russell, Carlos sainz, Lando Norris, Oscar, Peastrie, Lewis Hamilton, Fernando, Alonso, 

Summary — Charles boyfriend “accidentally” outs them to the world.

Word count —986

A/n—this has been in my drafts since January 😭😭 I Could never get it to work but I think I finally got it I can also come back with a little one shot of how they met 

The roar of the crowd was still deafening as you stood in the center of the ring, chest heaving and sweat pouring off you in rivulets. The adrenaline buzzed in your veins, muscles screaming with exertion and triumph. You’d done it—you’d actually won.

“AND YOUR WINNER, BY PINFALL…THE HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION!” the announcer boomed, dragging out every syllable for dramatic effect. Pyro exploded at the entrance ramp, the lights flashing in time with the thundering music.

The ref raised your arm, and you grinned wide, hands shaking from the sheer rush of it all. Somewhere off to the side, you saw CM punk and Seth Rollins clapping begrudgingly, smirking with that kind of respect wrestlers only had for those who could really take a hit. Even Cody Rhodes gave you a nod from the edge of the curtain.

But you weren’t really paying attention to them. You were scanning the crowd, searching the sea of faces past the blinding overhead lights until you found him.

Charles stood off to the side, flanked by your team and looking impossibly out of place in his pristine white button-up and slacks, arms crossed and a grin tugging at his lips. He looked proud—no, smug. He even gave you a little wave when he saw you staring. Next to him, Pierre was whistling and elbowing him, mouthing something you couldn’t quite make out.

The announcer shoved a microphone into your hand, and you didn’t even think twice. The adrenaline had you, and before your brain caught up with your mouth, you were yelling into it.

“I told you! I told you I’d win, baby!” you shouted, pointing directly at Charles. His eyes widened just a fraction, and you barreled right on, words tumbling out of you like a freight train with no brakes. “And my boyfriend Charles said if I won, I get a kiss and maybe some hanky-panky later!”

The arena went dead silent. Like someone had just hit pause on a movie. You could’ve heard a pin drop.

The announcer’s jaw was on the floor. Some guy in the front row dropped his nachos. CM punk did a double-take so exaggerated you almost laughed. Seth Rollins’ eyebrows were somewhere near his hairline, and Cody Rhodes straight-up slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter.

Charles, for his part, was frozen, hand halfway to his mouth. Then his shoulders dropped, and he rubbed his eyes with the tips of his fingers, muttering something to himself in French that was probably not meant to be repeated. Pierre was cackling, literally bent over and holding his stomach.

But then—then he did the unthinkable. Charles dropped his hand, squared his shoulders, and started walking. The crowd erupted, camera flashes popping like firecrackers, and you saw him roll his eyes as he stepped under the ropes, brushing off some WWE official who tried to stop him.

“Mon Dieu, you are a mess,” Charles said when he reached you, eyeing the sweat practically pouring off your skin. His nose scrunched up, and he took a very deliberate step back. “And you stink.”

“I just fought three guys,” you laughed, voice still a little breathless. “And you did promise.”

He sighed dramatically, hands settling on his hips. “If I catch something from this, I swear…” But Charles leaned up—because of course he did, you had a good six inches on him—and pressed a quick, firm kiss to your lips.

The crowd lost it. Screams and cheers reverberated off the walls. You barely heard the announcer babbling into the microphone about, “Breaking news,” and, “Unexpected twist!” CM punk raised his eyebrows at Seth Rollins, who just shrugged. Cody shouted from the side, “Hey Charles, didn’t know you were into sweaty giants!” earning a middle finger from Charles that sent the crowd roaring even louder.

Charles wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, half-smiling and half-disgusted. “You are lucky I love you,” he muttered, shaking his head.

You grinned wide, practically glowing. “I am very lucky,” you agreed, grabbing his hand and raising it alongside yours to the delight of the audience. You swore you saw Logan Paul filming it from the barricade, mouthing no way.

Backstage, things got even more interesting. The locker room was buzzing, and your phone was practically on fire. The group chat was an absolute mess.

Pierre: I knew it. 😉

Carlos: ???????

Lando: I’m so confused.

George: CHARLES LECLERC? THE FORMULA 1 DRIVER?

Max: How the hell did that happen?

Oscar: Wait…so it’s not a joke?

Daniel: I need details. Like…all of them.

Alex: Charles, blink twice if you’re in danger.

Lewis: I’m not sure whether to be impressed or terrified.

Fernando: So…you like the big ones, huh?

Charles, still wiping sweat off his cheek with a handkerchief someone had given him, just shook his head as he read the messages. “They are so dramatic,” he muttered, fingers flying over the screen to type out responses.

You kicked back on the bench, still buzzing. “Guess the cat’s out of the bag, huh?”

Charles looked up, eyebrows raised. “Yes, and you managed to do it in the most public, dramatic way possible.”

“Would you expect anything less?”

He sighed but stepped closer, hands settling at your sides, avoiding the sweat stains with practiced ease. “No, I guess I wouldn’t,” he said with a smile, pressing one last kiss to your lips, this one deeper, lingering. “And I wouldn’t change it.”

You grinned against his mouth, hands coming to rest on his hips. “I still get that hanky-panky time, right?”

Charles chuckled, shaking his head. “You might need a shower first, mon amour.”

You winked. “Only if you join me.”

He groaned, pushing off you. “Mon Dieu, you are impossible.”

[faithsmadhouse]

Into the Woods||Remmick x Fem!chubby!reader

MDNI+18

Summary—You’ve always been warned not to wander the woods at night, but temptation and curiosity pull you in deeper each time. You never realized you were being watched—or hunted. Remmick, the dark-eyed stranger with a Southern drawl and a wicked smile, has been stalking your midnight walks for weeks, waiting for the perfect moment to make you his. And when he finally pounces, there’s no escaping the possessive grip of a predator who always gets what he wants.

Warnings—Dark Romance Dubcon / Noncon Elements Obsession / Possessive Behavior Stalker!Remmick Size Kink Rough Sex Outdoor Sex Against a Tree Overstimulation Marking (Biting, Bruising) Kidnapping Cabin in the Woods Power Play Dirty Talk Mild Bloodplay (Biting) Aftercare (Possessive and Twisted) Hurt/Comfort (Dark) Forced Proximity Slight Manipulation Innocence Corruption

A/N—THIS IS A DARK FIC READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!

The moon hung heavy and full in the night sky, casting eerie silver light through the canopy of trees as you navigated the winding path. The leaves whispered under your boots, shadows stretching long and ominous. You pulled your coat tighter around you, breath fogging in the cool air.

You shouldn’t have been out this late. You knew that. Folks in town always spoke of the woods with hushed voices and wary glances, stories of shadows moving in the periphery, of eyes that gleamed in the dark. But you were stubborn—and perhaps a touch too bold for your own good.

The crack of a branch snapped you out of your thoughts, and you froze, heart stuttering in your chest. “Hello?” you called out, voice trembling just slightly. The woods answered with silence.

You swallowed hard, shaking off the chill that slipped down your spine, and kept walking. But the feeling of being watched only grew, prickling the back of your neck until you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder every few steps. Nothing. Always nothing.

Yet you couldn’t shake the feeling.

The path narrowed, leading you deeper, the moonlight flickering as the trees grew denser. You hurried your pace, each step crunching loudly, almost painfully loud. Your breath came quicker now, clouds of vapor puffing out as you moved faster, clutching your coat.

Something flickered in your peripheral vision—a shadow too quick to be caught. You whipped your head around, but there was only darkness.

A chuckle—soft, velvety—drifted from somewhere just beyond your sight. Your heart leaped into your throat. You spun around, eyes wide, searching the treeline. “Who’s there?”

Silence.

Panic flared, and you abandoned caution altogether, breaking into a sprint. Your footsteps thundered against the forest floor, branches clawing at your coat and tangling in your hair. You didn’t dare look back. You couldn’t.

But you felt him.

The shadows grew thicker, deeper, and suddenly, the air felt colder, suffocating. Your breath came in ragged gasps, lungs burning as you ran. You weren’t sure where you were going—only that you had to get away.

It didn’t matter.

The force hit you from behind like a freight train, a blur of strength and shadows that sent you sprawling to the ground with a cry. Leaves scattered, dirt scraping against your palms as you fought to right yourself, but it was too late.

A hand—cold and strong—pressed between your shoulder blades, pinning you down effortlessly. Another curled around your throat, not squeezing, just resting there, a promise of control.

“Well, well,” came the voice, low and dripping with amusement. “Look what I’ve found wandering all alone.”

You shivered, squirming under his grip, but it only made him tighten his hold just a fraction. His chest pressed against your back, his breath fanning hot against your ear. “Do you know how long I’ve watched you?” he murmured, voice a rasp of want. “How long I’ve waited for this moment?”

“P-please…” you stammered, voice trembling. You didn’t even know what you were begging for—mercy, escape, something—but he only chuckled darkly.

“Oh, sweet thing,” he purred, nuzzling into the curve of your neck, inhaling deeply. “Keep begging. I want to hear more.”

Your heart hammered against the forest floor, the damp earth cold and unforgiving beneath you. His weight pressed you down, unyielding, like he could pin you there for eternity if he wanted. You squirmed beneath him, fingers clawing at the dirt, but it only earned you a low, amused chuckle.

“There she goes,” he murmured, voice dripping with a Southern lilt, threaded with something darker, something old and Irish that curled around his words like smoke. “Like a lil’ rabbit, squirming ‘n thrashin’. Ain’t no use, darlin’. I’ve got you good ‘n proper now.”

“L-let me go,” you gasped, though the words came out pitifully soft. His grip didn’t loosen. If anything, his fingers pressed harder, almost affectionate as they trailed down the curve of your neck.

“Oh, now why would I do somethin’ foolish like that?” he drawled, the grin evident in his voice. “I been watchin’ you for weeks now… all soft curves ‘n pretty blushes. Walkin’ these woods without a care in the world.” He leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear, and you flinched at the sensation. “Should’ve known better, sweetheart.”

You shivered violently as his nose skimmed the side of your throat, inhaling deeply. He hummed, almost contentedly, like he’d found something he’d been craving. “Mmm… you smell like fear,” he cooed, his accent thickening with each word. “Sweet little thing, tremblin’ all pretty for me.”

The hand around your throat flexed, his thumb brushing the sensitive spot just beneath your jaw. “You don’t even know who I am, do ya?”

You swallowed hard, the movement pressing your pulse against his palm. “N-no,” you whispered, hating how breathless you sounded.

“Name’s Remmick.” He practically purred it, his fingers trailing down the line of your spine with a slow, deliberate touch that made your skin prickle. “An’ I reckon you’re just about the prettiest thing I’ve seen wanderin’ these woods in a long, long while.”

Your breath hitched, and he chuckled low, dark, the sound vibrating against your back. “What’s the matter, darlin’? Ain’t nobody told you ‘bout the monster lurkin’ out here?”

Monster. The word sank deep, chilling you to the bone. You tried to turn, to catch a glimpse of his face, but he pushed you down easily, pinning you flat. “Ah, ah,” he tsked, voice a dark melody. “Ain’t time for that yet. You’ll see me soon enough.”

His hands slipped lower, skimming the sides of your waist, fingers pressing into the softness of your hips. He made a pleased sound, almost like a growl, that had your cheeks flushing despite the situation. “Look at you… all lush ‘n ripe for the takin’. It’s like you were made for me.”

“No…” you breathed, shaking your head, but he only laughed, soft and indulgent.

“Oh, I think you are, sweetheart. Ain’t no one else out here… just you ‘n me.” His fingers tightened, pulling you back against him, and you felt the hard press of his body, unyielding and impossible to ignore. “Now… what should I do with my little rabbit, hmm?”

You whimpered, the sound slipping past your lips before you could stop it. Remmick hummed low, pleased. “There it is… knew you’d sound sweet beggin’. Might keep you beggin’ for a while yet.”

His lips ghosted over the side of your neck, sharp teeth just barely grazing your skin. “Maybe I oughta mark ya,” he mused, accent thickening to a lazy drawl. “Make sure you know just who you belong to now.”

His breath fanned hot and slow against your neck, the press of his body unyielding as he held you firm against the forest floor. The leaves beneath you were damp, the earth unforgiving, but Remmick didn’t seem to notice—or care. His fingers skimmed along your sides, mapping the soft curves with deliberate, unhurried attention.

“Look at you,” he cooed, his Southern drawl dripping with amusement, thickened by that lingering Irish lilt that curled around his words. “All flushed ‘n pretty… didn’t even have to try hard to catch ya.”

You squirmed under him, but it only made his grip tighten, a pleased rumble slipping from his chest. “Oh, darlin’… keep on wigglin’. Makes it all the more fun.”

His nose brushed the side of your throat, inhaling deeply, and you felt him shudder against you. “Sweet thing… you don’t even know what you’re doin’ to me.”

A whimper slipped past your lips, and Remmick stilled, his grin spreading slow and sharp. “There it is,” he murmured, almost reverent. “Been dreamin’ of that sound. All them nights watchin’ you wander out here, actin’ like nothin’ dangerous could touch ya.”

“W-watchin’ me?” you stammered, breathless, and he chuckled low, the sound dripping with dark satisfaction.

“Every damn night,” he rasped, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Followin’ you through the trees… listenin’ to those soft little sighs when you think you’re alone.” His hands drifted lower, squeezing your hips with firm possession. “Know what I heard last week, sugar?”

You shook your head, breath coming in ragged bursts as his hands slid over the swell of your thighs, bunching your skirts in his fists. “Heard you whisperin’ to the trees,” he continued, voice a wicked purr. “Sayin’ you wished somethin’ would happen… somethin’ excitin’. Ain’t that right?”

Your cheeks burned, heart slamming against your ribs. “I… I didn’t mean—”

“Oh, but I did,” he drawled, that accent dripping like honey, thick and slow. “I meant every damn second of it.” His hands fisted in your skirts, dragging the fabric up over your thighs, exposing skin to the cool night air. You gasped, but Remmick only chuckled, low and pleased.

“Look at you… so soft ‘n sweet,” he whispered, almost to himself. His hands skimmed your bare skin, fingers pressing into the flesh of your thighs with greedy reverence. “Ain’t nobody touched you like this, have they?”

You tried to shake your head, but the words stuck in your throat, and Remmick hummed low, satisfied. “Didn’t think so. Ain’t nobody would’ve let you outta their sight if they had.” He leaned down, mouth brushing the back of your neck, and you shivered under the sensation. “Guess that makes you mine now, huh?”

His hands tightened, spreading your thighs with a deliberate slowness that had your breath stuttering. “Gonna take my time with you, darlin’,” he promised, voice thick with want. “Make you cry out my name ‘til the whole damn forest knows who you belong to.”

Your hands clenched against the dirt, eyes squeezing shut as his touch grew bolder, rough palms sliding up the inside of your thighs, teasing the sensitive skin there. “Shh,” he crooned, his drawl a slow murmur. “Ain’t no need to be shy now… not when I’ve been waitin’ so long to have you.”

His fingers traced the edge of your underwear, nails scraping lightly, sending sparks up your spine. “Pretty lil’ thing… all soft ‘n mine for the takin’.” His teeth grazed your neck, sharper than they should’ve been, and you cried out softly.

“Mmm, that’s it… makin’ all them sweet sounds just for me.” He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, dragging them down with agonizing slowness, cool air licking over exposed flesh. “Ain’t nobody gonna hear you out here, sweetheart,” he crooned. “So go on… let me hear it.”

The night wrapped around you like a heavy cloak, the cool air licking over your exposed skin as Remmick dragged your underwear down your thighs with agonizing slowness. His hands were rough and deliberate, fingertips grazing the softness of your flesh, mapping each dip and curve like he wanted to memorize it.

“There we go,” he cooed, his Southern drawl thickening with every word. “Knew you’d be pretty under all that. Soft ‘n sweet… like you were made just for me.”

You shivered beneath him, instinctively trying to close your legs, but his hands shot out, fingers digging into your thighs with enough force to make you gasp. “Now, now…” he murmured, leaning in until his breath ghosted hot over your ear. “Ain’t no sense in hidin’ from me, darlin’. I wanna see all of you.”

Your cheeks burned, but his hands were unyielding, spreading your thighs apart with ease. The chill of the night bit at your skin, but the warmth of his body was scorching, a living furnace pressed tight against you. He hovered over you, gaze raking down the length of your body like he was savoring every inch.

“Look at you,” he whispered, almost reverent. “All spread out for me… all soft ‘n plush.” His hands roamed your hips, squeezing with greedy affection. “Ain’t nothin’ I love more than a woman with a little bit of softness,” he purred. “Somethin’ I can hold on to… somethin’ I can sink my teeth into.”

His teeth scraped the side of your neck, sharp and lingering, and you gasped, the sound high and breathless. He chuckled low, pleased. “There it is,” he drawled, hands sliding back up, rough palms caressing the swell of your hips. “Sweet lil’ sounds… you gonna keep makin’ those for me?”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words caught in your throat when his fingers brushed over the slickness pooling between your thighs. Remmick went still, his breath catching. “Well, I’ll be damned…” he murmured, accent thick with satisfaction. “You’re soaked, darlin’. Were you hopin’ I’d catch you out here?”

“N-no,” you stammered, shaking your head, but he only chuckled, low and dark.

“Lyin’ ain’t gonna do you no good out here,” he crooned, circling his fingers with deliberate slowness, teasing you until your hips arched against him involuntarily. “Mmm, that’s it… go on. Show me how much you want it.”

His touch grew bolder, fingers slipping through your slick folds with practiced ease. “So wet for me… look at you, sugar. Drippin’ like you were just waitin’ for me to find you.”

A whimper slipped past your lips, and Remmick hummed in approval. “Gonna make you feel real good, sweetheart,” he promised, leaning down to nip at the sensitive skin just below your ear. “Right here… out in the open where anybody could see. Ain’t that somethin’?”

His fingers slipped inside, stretching you slowly, possessively, and you bit back a gasp. Remmick groaned low in his throat, like the feel of you was too much, too good. “Hell… you’re tight,” he rasped, voice thick with want. “Gonna ruin you for anyone else, darlin’. Make sure you remember just who made you feel this way.”

He pumped his fingers slow and deliberate, curling just right to have your back arching off the ground. “That’s it, pretty girl… let me hear you,” he crooned, his accent like velvet and whiskey, smooth and intoxicating. “Ain’t nobody else around… just you ‘n me. Let it out.”

You couldn’t help the moan that slipped free, and his grin widened, sharp and hungry. “Good girl… knew you’d sound pretty when you broke.”

His pace quickened, fingers curling deeper, thumb brushing over that aching bundle of nerves until your legs shook beneath him. He watched you the whole time, gaze fixed on every twitch, every gasp, like he was savoring the way you unraveled for him.

“You gonna come for me, darlin’?” he whispered, voice low and dripping with want. “Right here in the dirt… with my hands buried inside ya? C’mon now… show me.”

His fingers worked you open with a deliberate pace, dragging out every slick sound and whimper that spilled from your lips. Remmick’s grin only widened, sharp and predatory, as he watched you writhe beneath him, your body reacting to every curl of his fingers.

“There we go,” he crooned, accent thickening with every whisper. “Such a good girl for me… takin’ what I give you like you were made for it.” His thumb circled your clit with just enough pressure to have your back arching off the forest floor, a breathless cry slipping from your mouth.

His hand was unyielding, fingers stretching you open as his thumb continued its slow, torturous rhythm. “You like that?” he murmured, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “Bet you ain’t ever been touched like this before… all soft ‘n perfect, drippin’ down my hand.”

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, every nerve lit up with fire as his hand worked you closer and closer to the edge. His voice stayed low and soft, whispering dark promises against your skin. “Gonna make you come, darlin’… right here with your thighs spread wide for me.”

His fingers curled just right, hitting that sweet spot deep inside you, and your hands flew to grasp at the leaves and dirt beneath you, nails digging into the earth. “That’s it,” he praised, his breath hot against your neck. “You gonna come for me, sweetheart? Let me feel you clenchin’ around my fingers?”

You whimpered, hips bucking involuntarily as the pressure built, white-hot and unrelenting. Remmick’s grin turned wicked, and he pressed his lips to the side of your throat, sharp teeth grazing the skin there. “Let go,” he whispered, voice dripping with command. “Come for me.”

The words snapped something inside you, the coil of tension unraveling with a rush of heat and pleasure that left you gasping. Your body clenched around his fingers, thighs trembling as he worked you through it, his touch never faltering. “That’s it,” he drawled, almost proud. “Knew you’d be pretty when you came.”

Your body sagged against the ground, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. But Remmick wasn’t done. Not even close. He pulled his hand away, and you shivered as he brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean with a groan of satisfaction. “Sweet as honey,” he praised, voice husky. “Reckon I might have to taste you proper next time.”

You barely had a chance to recover before his hands were on you again, dragging you up from the ground and into his lap. His strength was effortless, like you weighed nothing at all, and before you could blink, you were straddling him, your skirts bunched around your hips.

He leaned back against the trunk of a tree, hands gripping your thighs possessively. “Ain’t done with you yet, darlin’,” he rasped, voice thick with hunger. “Not by a long shot.” His hands skimmed up your sides, curling around your waist as he pulled you flush against him. The hard press of him against your core made your breath hitch, and he grinned, sharp and dangerous.

“You feel that?” he purred, grinding up against you with slow, deliberate movements. “That’s what you did to me… runnin’ around all soft ‘n sweet like you were beggin’ me to catch you.”

His hands moved to your hips, gripping tight as he rolled his own, dragging you against him again and again, the friction sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. “Think you’re ready to take me, sugar?” he drawled, voice low and teasing. “Think you can handle it?”

The forest was silent around you, shadows stretching long and unyielding as Remmick cradled you against him, his breath still coming in ragged bursts. The warmth of him seeped into your skin, grounding you even as your mind swirled with the aftermath of what just happened. You should have been terrified—should have run the second his grip loosened—but your body stayed pliant and soft against his, boneless in his arms.

Remmick’s hands smoothed over your back, large and warm, palms pressing possessively against your spine. “Did so good for me, darlin’,” he murmured, voice softening to a honeyed drawl. His lips brushed your temple, almost reverent. “Knew you were meant to be mine… knew it the moment I saw you.”

You swallowed hard, head spinning, but the words wouldn’t come. How could you respond? How could you even breathe when he was still pressed so close, body solid and unyielding, keeping you right where he wanted you?

But Remmick didn’t seem to mind your silence. If anything, it pleased him, the soft hum of satisfaction rumbling through his chest. His fingers traced idle patterns along your spine, almost affectionate. “Gonna take you somewhere safe now,” he whispered, voice low and conspiratorial, like you were sharing a secret. “Somewhere they can’t find you.”

You stiffened instinctively, but his hands only tightened, pressing you closer until the hard bark of the tree bit into your back. “Ah, ah… none of that now,” he chided gently, his Irish lilt curling around the words. “Ain’t no sense in runnin’. I’d only catch you again.”

His eyes met yours then, pale and burning with something you couldn’t name. Obsession, maybe. Possession. It sat heavy in his gaze, pinning you in place as his hand slid up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing your lips. “You’re mine now, sugar,” he murmured, the promise thick and unyielding. “Gonna keep you all for myself.”

Before you could so much as blink, he scooped you into his arms, cradling you against his chest like you weighed nothing at all. You gasped, hands flying to his shoulders, but his grip was firm and steady, unyielding as he strode through the shadows of the forest.

“W-where are you taking me?” you managed, voice trembling.

His grin spread slow and wicked, eyes glimmering with dark satisfaction. “Home, darlin’,” he drawled. “Gonna take you back to my place… keep you tucked away where nobody else can touch you.”

Your heart stuttered, panic clawing at the edges of your mind. “You can’t just—”

“Oh, I can,” he interrupted smoothly, not even breaking stride. “And I will.” His gaze dropped to yours, sharp and unyielding. “Ain’t nobody gonna take you from me, sugar. Not now, not ever.”

The trees thickened around you, shadows stretching long and twisted as he carried you deeper into the woods. His arms were unyielding, every step purposeful, like he’d walked this path a thousand times before. You tried to memorize the way, counting the turns and bends, but it all blurred together, the darkness swallowing each landmark whole.

And then you saw it. Hidden among the thick branches and creeping ivy was a cabin—dark and looming, half-consumed by nature. Its windows were covered, shadows shifting behind the glass, and the door stood slightly ajar, like it had been waiting.

“There we are,” Remmick crooned, voice thick with satisfaction. “Home sweet home.”

He nudged the door open with his boot, carrying you inside with practiced ease. The air was heavy, scented with cedar and smoke, and the low flicker of candlelight bathed the room in a soft, warm glow. It was almost… cozy. But there was something lurking just beneath the surface—something dark and possessive, clinging to the shadows like an unwelcome guest.

Remmick set you down gently, hands never leaving your waist as he guided you toward the center of the room. His gaze flickered over you, lingering on your swollen lips, the marks on your neck, the bruises his hands left on your hips. He grinned, pleased. “You look real good like that, darlin’,” he murmured, thumb brushing your cheek. “All marked up and mine.”

You shivered under his touch, the weight of his stare making it impossible to think clearly. “Remmick… I…”

“Hush now,” he whispered, lips ghosting over your temple. “Ain’t no need for talkin’. We got all the time in the world now.”

[ariadne-mouse]

I feel fandom would get along a lot better if there was mutual understanding that liking a character, agreeing with a character, and thinking the character is well constructed/executed are all separate (if often overlapping) positions, each with their separate tastes and subjectivities. Also: character portrayals are intended to make the audience feel things; this is separate from (if often overlapping with) analyzing/appreciating their actions and role in the story.

[infamous-if]

is misfit alley the type of band to make statements on their opinions or spread awareness of current world issues or are they the type to shy away and try to stay neutral

In the beginning, yes, G was a trooper and very starry-eyed and wanted to change the industry and use their platform for good but now not really. G is jaded and finds it all pointless and doesn't really try anymore beyond throwing money at a charity and calling it a day unfortunately

i dont want to say they dont care but yeah they dont care lsmjsjd theyre too focused on themselves to give a damn about helping other people (right now) it's unfortunate but it is what it is (g's motto)

[erinwantstowrite]

here's yet another reminder: if you ship any of the batfam together, and this INCLUDES PETER in LOF because he IS DICK'S SON. Which makes him FAMILY. you are not welcome to read LoF. I can't possibly block all of you but i can make sure you know that i think you're gross

[hilacopter]

the amount of people who shut down any argument with "i ain't reading all that" or "shut up (insert problematic term here)" and think it makes them look intelligent and mature

[penaconys-radical-bellboy]

okay hear me out. Prop-SacrificialLamb when ? I own that guy and I am sacrificing him thank you have a good night

Glances casually,,,,,

A PropID where is or believes to be a sacrificial lamb , due or caused by being owned by somebody !!

—-★

I'm enjoying doing propID flags can you tell.. something about doing these flags just feel so relaxing to do tbh

Repost with credits please !! Inbox is always [[OPENED]]

If you find a similar term , consider this an alternative or simply a recoin !!

Anybody can use my terms , just be respectful <33

—-★

[camellcat]

for that other anon, if they haven’t read it yet i recommend body language by explosionshark on ao3

I hope you see this other anon, bc I've a been sent a message for you. makes me feel a bit like a carrier pigeon or some such. you lot trading little letters through my inbox. smut, no less. it's not even my thing but y'know it looks really good! I read a little bit of it I think you shall like it fuffy anon. fuffy girlies in general. if my opinions matters at all. for I am only the messenger, of course

[lemedstudent2021]

Are you in a Muslim country or are you just Muslim in a not predominantly Muslim country

muslim in a predominantly muslim country (jordan) :D!

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

I understand her saying she was in a bad place after Joe but I think her saying MH was manic phase was AFTER the fact that he ghosted her. Down Bad she states I was in love. I believe she truly was in love with him, not thinking she was. I am not a MH fan by no means but I truly believe she loved him. She couldn't even say the word over in her song. I know he ghosted her, but it was her CHOICE to be with him. No one forced her hand. She knew the type of person he was, but she chose him anyway. She could have said get lost. I respect her and whatever or whoever she chose to love.

Friend:

In her own words, she did not truly love him. She was infatuated with him and was experiencing a severe mental health crisis over many things and convinced herself she was in love with him because it was the only way she could bring herself to burn the bridge for good with with her LTR.

yes, you’re right that she said it was a manic phase after he ghosted her. I don’t see that as controversial or in opposition to what you’ve stated. Because the thing about manic phases is that you often don’t realize you’re in them until you crash (and/or hit the depressive part of the cycle). When you’re in the manic part, everything feels heightened and logical in your own head and it’s not until you come down from it that you realize what it was. So the crash happened by her own admission after he ghosted her and the apex of the phase crumbled. And once that happened* and the dust settled she saw it for what it was, both in herself and in what he’d done. (E.g. that she was manic and that he’d been playing her.) That isn’t projection, that is in her own words in the poem and in her music.

so yes, she chose to be with him. I’m not denying that. She’s not denying that. She doesn’t need some internet stranger to defend her actions and I’m certainly not. But nothing exists in a vacuum and I don’t know how many times we can rehash this.

She chose to be with him knowing who he was, yes. Personally, I think he’s vile, and i wouldn’t go near the guy with a ten foot pole. But it’s not my life. And again: in her own words, he told her that he’d changed and would change and love bombed her into believing he was a new person. Is that naive? Yes, obviously. But I also am of the belief, again through Taylor’s own words, that she was deeply, deeply unwell and suffering from a host of emotional, physical and mental health struggles and wasn’t acting with the clearest of minds. I cannot underscore enough that TTPD is a study in the effects of grief and how it can cloud your mind and inform your actions and I don’t know any other way to explain it that doesn't cross lines but iykyk. If TTPD is to be believed, even within it the cracks were starting to form in the facade before he left her.

If you feel she was truly in love with him, then go ahead, because at this point I am not going to convince you otherwise and that’s fine, you’re allowed to interpret events through your own lens and make your own judgment calls. Just like you aren’t going to convince me that it was a grand love affair because personally I think it was an unfortunate confluence of timing and opportunity that coalesced into a total shit sandwich and I interpret her words and actions through an entirely different lens. I am not trying to be snarky or mean, I’m just saying that this isn’t going to be a fruitful discussion because we’re coming at this from a different set of beliefs and experiences.

(and if you’re talking about the “over” in down bad: she can’t bring herself to say it because she’s a) performing the song and b) using that for effect in the storytelling. She doesn’t say it because it is meant to cut directly into the next line. It’s songwriting.)

this is not a conversation I am interested in hosting on this blog so I will not be responding to this further.

[bastardofharrenhal]

can you draw alicent hightower please please please

personally if i had a wife w big brown gorgeous eyes i would do whatever she wants too

rqs r open on this blog and art sideblog @snoozingfae✨

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Hi! I saw that you were taking requests you can ignore this if you’d like but literally can’t stop thinking about a threesome between remmick and bo🙂‍↔️ maybe something that follows the plot of the movie🤍

Ours||Remmick x reader x bo chow

Summary —You didn’t mean to call both of them. But when the pain got too loud, when the blood wouldn’t wash off and your hands wouldn’t stop shaking, you needed something real something grounding.

Word count —2605

Warnings M/F/M Threesome Double Penetration (DP) Oral Sex (f and m receiving) Fingering Face-fucking (softly edged with care) Praise Kink Possessiveness / Territorial Behavior Slight Dom/Sub Dynamics Cockwarming Eye Contact During Sex Overstimulation Dirty Talk Gentle Aftercare Bruises & Bitemarks Semi-Rough Sex Emotional Sex Soft Dom!Remmick Teasing Dom!Bo Reader is the Center of Gravity Slight Jealousy / Power Play Between Males Vulnerability During Sex

You’re still shaking when the door opens.

The room is quiet, save for the low hum of the overhead lights and the soft sound of your breath trying to even out. Blood crusts the edge of your temple, and your ribs ache with every inhale. You haven’t taken off your boots. You haven’t moved since you sat down.

Bo’s the first one to arrive. He doesn’t knock. Just steps inside, then stops cold when he sees you.

His cocky expression falters—just for a second. Long enough that you know it’s real. Long enough that it matters.

“You look like hell,” he says eventually, voice low, not teasing for once.

You don’t answer. Your fingers twitch where they rest on your thigh.

Bo walks over slowly, crouching in front of you. “What happened?”

You shake your head, and his jaw tightens.

Before you can speak—before either of you can find the words you’re too tired to say—the door opens again.

Remmick. Taller in the frame. Shadowed eyes sweeping over the scene like he’s trying to assess for threat, for damage. For you.

His gaze lingers on Bo for a beat. Then on you. He doesn’t speak either. Just shuts the door and crosses the room.

They don’t look at each other, not yet. It’s all you.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” you murmur, and your voice sounds thinner than you expect.

“I always come when it’s you,” Remmick says quietly.

Bo shifts beside you on the couch, his hand brushing against your knee. “You called both of us?”

You nod.

Bo chuckles under his breath, something dark and incredulous. “Didn’t think you were the type.”

“I didn’t plan it,” you say.

“Doesn’t matter,” Remmick replies, voice gruff but calm. “You needed us.”

The room pulses with quiet. Not tension—something deeper. Recognition. That this isn’t about competition. Not tonight.

Remmick kneels beside you, opposite Bo. His calloused fingers brush your cheek, tilting your face to his. “You okay being touched?”

You nod again. Slower.

His touch is gentle. Reverent.

Bo watches the way Remmick moves, then looks at you, head tilted. “You always let him go first?”

“I didn’t know there were rules,” you murmur.

Bo smirks—but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “There aren’t. Not tonight.”

And then there’s heat. Rising from their skin, from yours. It creeps in quiet and slow like a fever, like gravity pulling three bodies closer in the dark.

When Bo leans in to kiss you, it’s sharp and hot and demanding. When Remmick follows, it’s slower, rougher around the edges—like he’s holding himself back, just barely.

You feel their hands on your thighs. Their mouths on your neck. Two men who are nothing alike and yet move around you like they were made to share you. Like tonight, they will.

And you’ll let them.

Because you need it.

Because you want it.

Because with them—both of them—you don’t have to survive alone.

Bo’s mouth is already on your throat, licking up the dried sweat and blood, mouthing over your pulse like it’s something he could drink from. His hands are fast, greedy—sliding beneath your shirt, fingertips grazing bruised ribs with surprising care. “You’re still shaking,” he murmurs. “Let us fix that.”

Remmick’s fingers are in your hair, angling your head so he can kiss you properly. Deep and slow, like it hurts to be gentle. His palm rests heavy against the side of your throat—not choking, not yet, just holding. Grounding.

You whimper, the sound caught between Bo’s lips on your collarbone and Remmick’s tongue in your mouth.

“Take your clothes off,” Remmick says, voice husky and firm.

You move to obey, fumbling with your shirt, but Bo tuts, already pulling it over your head with practiced ease.

“Let us,” he says, almost like it’s a challenge. “You don’t lift a finger tonight.”

They strip you together, piece by piece—Bo working fast, smirking at every hiss and gasp he draws out of you, while Remmick moves slower, more methodical, like he’s cataloging every inch of your skin. Their hands brush over each other across your body, and still, they don’t fight. Not yet. Not when you’re the focus.

Bo gets your pants off first and sits back on his heels to admire you, biting his lip. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous like this.”

Remmick is behind you now, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “We’re gonna take care of you, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and fraying. “You trust us?”

You nod, breath hitching. “Yes.”

Bo grins like he’s won something. “Then lie back.”

You do—and the world tilts.

Remmick’s hands are on your thighs, spreading them wide, his mouth trailing down your stomach, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses in his wake. Bo kneels between your legs next to him, one hand sliding between them, fingers brushing teasingly close to your core.

“You’re soaked already,” Bo says with a soft, surprised laugh, then drags his fingers through your folds, slow and deliberate. “And we haven’t even gotten started.”

You arch into the touch, hips twitching.

Remmick looks up at you from between your thighs. “Let him warm you up,” he murmurs, his voice dark. “Then I’m going to fuck you so deep you won’t remember what it’s like to be empty.”

Bo chuckles, breath hot against your thigh. “Always the poet.”

But then his mouth replaces his fingers and you stop thinking. His tongue moves like he’s trying to undo you—fast, wet, relentless—while Remmick keeps his hands on your hips, steadying you as you writhe and gasp.

They work in tandem—Bo licking and sucking, two fingers sliding inside you slick and easy, curling just right—while Remmick kisses your jaw, your throat, your mouth. You’re being devoured from both sides.

Your first orgasm hits fast, brutal. You cry out, hips jerking, and Bo groans against your cunt like he’s starving for it.

“Good girl,” Remmick murmurs, brushing your hair back from your face. “You want more?”

You’re already nodding, dazed.

Bo rises, wiping his mouth, eyes dark and hungry. “Then let’s see how much you can take.”

“On your knees,” Remmick says, voice low and thick with need. He’s behind you again, pulling you up from the sheets like you weigh nothing, steadying you with one hand at the base of your spine. His other palm coasts up your ribs, firm and possessive.

Bo’s in front of you, already stripped down, cock heavy and flushed in his hand. “Thought you’d never ask,” he murmurs, staring down at you like you’re a goddamn gift.

You open your mouth and he slides in slow, letting you set the pace at first. One of his hands threads into your hair, not pushing—just holding. Grounding. His hips twitch when your tongue swirls around the head, and he lets out a quiet, reverent curse.

“Fuck… she’s good at that, huh?” Bo says breathlessly, eyes flicking up to Remmick with a crooked grin.

Remmick doesn’t answer. His hand presses firmer against your lower back, then slips between your thighs again. Two thick fingers push into you, slow and rough, and your moan vibrates around Bo’s cock.

Bo shudders. “Oh, she likes that.”

“Of course she does,” Remmick mutters. “She likes being full.”

There’s something dangerous in his voice now—possessive and territorial.

Bo catches it too. His smirk turns sharp. “Gotta wonder how many times you’ve imagined this,” he says, voice low, taunting. “Me. You. Her. Sharing.”

Remmick’s tone is ice. “I don’t share.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” Bo lets out a soft moan when you take him deeper. “She’s doing just fine like this.”

Remmick doesn’t answer. He adds a third finger and curls them deep, and you choke around Bo, eyes watering from the overwhelming stretch and pleasure.

You whimper when Bo pulls out suddenly, cupping your face, brushing his thumb across your lips. “Want me to fuck your mouth, pretty thing?” he asks, but the question’s for control, not permission.

“She’s not yours,” Remmick growls from behind you.

Bo meets his eyes, deliberately stroking your jaw with possessive tenderness. “She’s not yours either, Rem.”

The moment hangs—tense, electric.

You should feel like a rope pulled between two snarling wolves.

But instead, you feel worshipped.

“You’re both mine,” you whisper, voice hoarse and ruined, looking up at Bo and back over your shoulder at Remmick. “Tonight.”

That shatters whatever boundary was left between them.

Bo kisses you hard, messy and breathless, and Remmick groans low in his chest as he drags his cock against your slick entrance, lining himself up.

“Gonna fuck you now,” he growls into your ear. “You take me first. Then we’ll see if you can handle both.”

You cry out when he thrusts into you—deep, stretching, devastating. Bo’s mouth is still on yours, swallowing the sound as your body bows, caught between too much and not enough.

Remmick fucks you slow and punishing, hips grinding deep like he’s branding himself into you. His hand slips up to your throat again, not choking—just holding. Possessive. Grounding. Bo strokes himself as he watches, breath ragged, eyes dark and greedy.

“Look at her,” Bo murmurs. “Already falling apart.”

Remmick snarls. “She’s not falling apart. She’s opening up.”

You tremble in their grip, a mess of slick skin and broken gasps, completely wrecked—and still hungry.

Bo kneels in front of you again. “Ready for both of us?”

Your eyes flutter open, tears clinging to your lashes.

“Yes.”

“On your knees,” Remmick says, voice low and thick with need. He’s behind you again, pulling you up from the sheets like you weigh nothing, steadying you with one hand at the base of your spine. His other palm coasts up your ribs, firm and possessive.

Bo’s in front of you, already stripped down, cock heavy and flushed in his hand. “Thought you’d never ask,” he murmurs, staring down at you like you’re a goddamn gift.

You open your mouth and he slides in slow, letting you set the pace at first. One of his hands threads into your hair, not pushing—just holding. Grounding. His hips twitch when your tongue swirls around the head, and he lets out a quiet, reverent curse.

“Fuck… she’s good at that, huh?” Bo says breathlessly, eyes flicking up to Remmick with a crooked grin.

Remmick doesn’t answer. His hand presses firmer against your lower back, then slips between your thighs again. Two thick fingers push into you, slow and rough, and your moan vibrates around Bo’s cock.

Bo shudders. “Oh, she likes that.”

“Of course she does,” Remmick mutters. “She likes being full.”

There’s something dangerous in his voice now—possessive and territorial.

Bo catches it too. His smirk turns sharp. “Gotta wonder how many times you’ve imagined this,” he says, voice low, taunting. “Me. You. Her. Sharing.”

Remmick’s tone is ice. “I don’t share.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” Bo lets out a soft moan when you take him deeper. “She’s doing just fine like this.”

Remmick doesn’t answer. He adds a third finger and curls them deep, and you choke around Bo, eyes watering from the overwhelming stretch and pleasure.

You whimper when Bo pulls out suddenly, cupping your face, brushing his thumb across your lips. “Want me to fuck your mouth, pretty thing?” he asks, but the question’s for control, not permission.

“She’s not yours,” Remmick growls from behind you.

Bo meets his eyes, deliberately stroking your jaw with possessive tenderness. “She’s not yours either, Rem.”

The moment hangs—tense, electric.

You should feel like a rope pulled between two snarling wolves.

But instead, you feel worshipped.

“You’re both mine,” you whisper, voice hoarse and ruined, looking up at Bo and back over your shoulder at Remmick. “Tonight.”

That shatters whatever boundary was left between them.

Bo kisses you hard, messy and breathless, and Remmick groans low in his chest as he drags his cock against your slick entrance, lining himself up.

“Gonna fuck you now,” he growls into your ear. “You take me first. Then we’ll see if you can handle both.”

You cry out when he thrusts into you—deep, stretching, devastating. Bo’s mouth is still on yours, swallowing the sound as your body bows, caught between too much and not enough.

Remmick fucks you slow and punishing, hips grinding deep like he’s branding himself into you. His hand slips up to your throat again, not choking—just holding. Possessive. Grounding. Bo strokes himself as he watches, breath ragged, eyes dark and greedy.

“Look at her,” Bo murmurs. “Already falling apart.”

Remmick snarls. “She’s not falling apart. She’s opening up.”

You tremble in their grip, a mess of slick skin and broken gasps, completely wrecked—and still hungry.

Bo kneels in front of you again. “Ready for both of us?”

Your eyes flutter open, tears clinging to your lashes.

“Yes.”

Remmick shifts behind you, pulling out slowly, groaning low in his throat. “On your back.”

You move without question—body slick with sweat, limbs trembling. Bo helps guide you down, kissing your temple in an uncharacteristically soft gesture. “Breathe, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “We’ve got you.”

Remmick settles behind you again, this time with your back to his chest. His thighs bracket yours. One hand grips your leg, the other holds your hand. Anchoring you.

“You ready?” he murmurs against your neck, cock slick and hard again, nudging between your folds.

You nod, breath stuttering. “Yes.”

He sinks back into you with a broken groan, deeper this time—his chest rising and falling fast against your back. You can feel how tightly he’s holding on to his control.

Then Bo kneels between your legs, lining himself up with your tight, still-stretched entrance.

“Tell me to stop,” he says, serious for once. No smirk. No teasing. Just those dark eyes on yours, waiting.

You reach up and touch his cheek. “Don’t.”

He pushes in slowly, carefully—inch by inch, with Remmick murmuring into your skin the whole time: “You’re doing so good, baby. Taking us both. Just like that.”

The stretch is intense. Too much. Perfect. You gasp, body shuddering as you’re filled to the point of breaking.

Bo lets out a shaky groan. “Fuck, fuck—you feel unreal.”

They start to move—slow, synced, each one waiting for the other. You’re pinned between them, completely full, completely theirs.

Remmick’s teeth graze your shoulder. “You’re ours tonight.”

Bo kisses your ankle, then your knee, his hips rocking in time with Remmick’s. “You were made for this,” he says, voice strained. “Made for us.”

Your second orgasm crashes over you without warning—so sharp it nearly knocks the air from your lungs. You cry out, body clenching tight around them, and they groan in unison, both hips stuttering.

Remmick’s hand is on your chest now, right over your heart. Holding you like he can keep it from breaking.

Bo leans down, kisses you deep and slow, then murmurs, “Look at me. I want to see you fall apart again.”

And you do—because with them, like this, you don’t have to be strong. You don’t have to survive. You can just feel.

They follow close behind—Remmick first, snarling your name against your neck as he spills inside you, hips jerking. Bo seconds later, buried deep, lips parted and shaking with the force of it.

When it’s over, you’re boneless between them. Quiet. Ruined.

Bo presses a kiss to your forehead. Remmick wraps his arms tight around your waist, breathing hard.

For a long time, none of you speak.

Then Bo breaks the silence with a soft, stunned laugh. “Well… that’s gonna fuck with all of us, huh?”

You smile—just barely. “Yeah.”

Remmick doesn’t laugh. He just holds you tighter. “I’m not letting either of you walk away like this didn’t mean something.”

And that’s what truly unravels you.

[faithsmadhouse]

Hey for the sinners google doc it says we need access can you switch the link so we can access it thanks 😊

There we go I fixed it! Here’s a new link if anyone needs it.

[iobartach]

i'm stepping back early tonight, so like / reply to this if you want memes or asks in your inboxes? 👀

[blackbatcass]

About Donna Troy, what are her main flaws?

I'll be honest to say I get genuinely annoyed by her character a lot because it seems to me that she has none and people instead villainize other characters when she's in the wrong (Dick in NTT v2 #19, Hawk in #20)

Most of the time when I ask, people give such wimpy, interview-like flaws like "she cares about everyone but herself", "she cares about perfection too much" or my personal favourite "she has poor romantic judgement when it comes to men" which only paints her a perfect and frankly boring victim character who always in the right and anyone who isn't 100% nice to her is immediately a demon.

What are the flaws that you can straight up say make her an asshole in situations, the same way people always say "Dick is/should be an asshole" for his flaws?

hey. do i like.. know you

[faithst]

idk if u do like .. quick little cutie drabbles but omg have you seen all of matthews rizz videos omg ??? HES SO ADORABLEEE😭 AND THE HASHTAGS HE PUTS “#i’mnotputtingthephonedown” AND THEN THERES JUST SO MANY CLIPS OF HIS RIZZ JOKES.

ok um point is, matthew trying to use his super cool super good super awesome rizz on you but gets sad when it doesn’t work😔 im not very elaborate but do what you wanna !!! IVE JUST BEEN SEARCHING FOR A WRITER FOR DAYS AND I LIKE UR WRITING SO !!!

also meant to ask abt becoming an anon .. idk if you do that either but lmk !! if you do can I be 🍀 ?!?!?! THANK UUU💗

LMAO PLS YEAH I’VE SEEN THE TIKTOKS

i get second-hand embarrassment sometimes and be like ‘ok scroll and pretend nothing happened.’ AND YES YOU MAY BE 🍀 ANON !! i hope this is what you meant by cute lil’ drabbles 🫶

matthew would have his phone out ready to play some sick music after he drops the bomb on you

“if i could rearrange the alphabet, i would put ‘u’ and ‘i’ together, aha ha.” *sticker by nct 127 starts playing*

and then you stare at him for a good minute as he poses throughout the music

he’s lipbiting and swiping his hair back and stuff 😭😭

it doesn’t matter the time or location, he will take any opportunity he gets

he has pickup lines picked out for the next day and he even practices on his friends first

he gets suuuuper pouty when you don’t react because he put real effort into damaging his dignity for you

“say somethingggg.” literally will whine all day if you don’t give him the reaction he wants

might post them on his own priv tiktok and makes it a series like ‘rizzing up my partner day 508’

and in every video, you’re there with your hand covering your face in embarrassment

but you still find him cute in all his efforts!!