#so all of these little details….they’re nice to think about but they don’t need any of that stuff and so all of that to say

[reyesstrand]

According to Ronen from earlier this week, we’re gonna “SHIT” so I am FULLY ONBOARD with an elopement rn. Everything leading up to the wedding and then- elope.

sorry for the delayed response on this anon!! but i’m definitely cool with any scenario tbh—just the fact they’re getting married still has me !!! so whether they plan a big ceremony and go through with it; plan a big ceremony and something happens and they come up with a small-but- sentimental ceremony with their closest people around; decide on the spot to get married/plan to elope and have a party afterward, i’m happy with whatever gives us the best story and gives them the best story. being here through every between-season hiatus has proven that ronen does hype up the emotional stuff, but we all know they’re going to be weeping through their vows whether they’re alone at a courthouse or at a fancy venue, so i guess at this point we’ll have to see?? but i’m game for whatever happens!!

[beenbaanbuun]

tits, ass or thighs w/ ateez

words - 🤠

genre - fluff/smut

warnings - groping (consensual), size kink (yunho), manhandling (yunho, kind of yeosang), kind of somnophilia in sans, mingi is always eating pussy in my fics…, spanking (mingi and wooyoung), i think that’s the major ones…

kim hongjoong - ass

so my theory is that hongjoong likes having you on his lap; more specifically, straddling his lap. whether that’s during sex, cuddling, or just to chat, he wants you sitting on his thighs, staring into his eyes. of course, half of it is about the intimacy of it all - face to face, eye to eye, all that good stuff - but he can’t deny that he really does love the way it gives him the perfect opportunity to grope your ass.

his arms are always wrapped around you to hold you close, and your ass is just the natural place his hands fall. you can’t expect him not to cop a feel when his hands are already there in prime position. besides, your ass is just too nice not to squeeze; it gives his hands something to do whilst you’re telling him about your day… and that’s not even mentioning the way it makes you squirm whenever he’s balls deep inside of you, using his grip on your ass to guide your pace as you ride him into oblivion.

park seonghwa - tits

seonghwa is a gentleman except when it comes to your tits. he is always just touching them, giving some sort of shitty excuse as to why he needs to. ‘oh, i slammed the breaks too hard and didn’t want the seatbelt to hurt you,’ he says as he slowly draws his hand away from where it was just sitting on your breast. ‘i meant to touch your shoulder but i missed,’ he smiles prettily as if that excuses the way he’s pawing at your tit. the way he sees it, he shouldn’t even need an excuse to feel you up at any given moment in time…

because you can’t really blame him for wanting to touch them constantly. he likes soft, cute things are your tits? well they just happen to be the softest, cutest things around! sue him if they’re like magnets for his hands! he can’t help the way they draw them in now can he?

jeong yunho - thighs

BIG HAND ON THIGH I REPEAT BIG HAND… ON THIGH!!!! like when he’s driving you places?!?!? or even when you’re just watching a movie together?!?!?!? UGH!!! it just makes you feel so small and protected and the thought of you being so small and fragile for him? that shit makes yunho weak at the knees. it’s even better when he gets to squeeze your thighs and feel your plush flesh under his fingertips. he likes the way it never fails to make you wriggle in your seat.

and i’m sorry but it all comes down to the fact that this man definitely has a size kink and whatever he can do to make himself feel like the big strong knight and you his tiny little damsel in distress, he will do it. unfortunately that means that he literally always has his hand on your thigh just to show you how big he is compared to you, and just how easy it would be to manhandle you into any position he wants…

kang yeosang - thighs

i think i’ve spoken about yeosang being a dom enough on this account, so i won’t go into any more details about that. all i will say is that he loves pinning you by your thighs. pretty boy is so strong and he just adores the way you helplessly squirm as he holds you to the bed by them. he will literally torture you for hours with his face between your legs, but you can’t even buck your hips with how tightly he’s holding onto your shaking thighs.

and don’t get me started on the bruises he leaves in his wake. he’s spend hours kissing and admiring the fingerprints left on your skin the day after, trailing over them with his fingers and his tongue until he has you squirming and begging for him to give you more. there’s rarely a day goes by where you don’t have tiny purple marks painted up and down your thighs…

choi san - tits

san likes to cuddle something when he sleeps, right? since sharing your bed, that something has become you. he likes his arms wrapped around your waist and his head pressed to your chest, your soft flesh acting as the fluffiest pillow in the world. it’s even better when you play with his hair, sending him into a sleepy daze in minutes.

and it’s not his fault when you wake up to him rutting against your thigh, face pressed between your tits as he incoherently mumbles about how gorgeous you are. actually, it’s yours for sleeping without a bra on. how is san supposed to not be horny when he wakes up every morning to your pretty nipples poking through his tshirt that he let you sleep in. it’s only right that you help him fix his problem, right? that you let him drool over your boobs as he dribbles cum onto your thighs?

song mingi - ass

with the amount i talk about mingi being a slut for eating pussy, i think we all saw this coming, right? like your ass is just the perfect place to hold onto while he tucks in to his favourite meal. he especially likes it when you’re sitting on his face and he can just grab it, using it as leverage to pin you to his face when you start to become oversensitive from his rough licks.

and don’t even get me started about how feral he gets when he eats your pussy from the back. literally eyes closed, moaning like a whore as he licks at you from behind. loves to just grope you while he eats you out, pinching and smacking it every few seconds because he adores the way it makes your pussy clench and squeeze out even more of your precious fluids. he’s literally a bitch in heat when it comes to eating pussy, you will never convince me otherwise

jung wooyoung - ass

he’s a smacker… that’s all i have to say. any time, anywhere, you always need to be on guard because you never know when wooyoung is going to come up behind you and just smack! he likes the way it makes you squeal and blush, thinking you look the most adorable when you’re pouting and scolding him for spanking your ass in the middle of a grocery store! most of the time he just gives you a cheeky smirk before promising - with his fingers crossed, of course - that he won’t do it again.

and he can’t lie, he likes the way it feels in his hand too. the way it jiggles from the impact hypnotises him, and it’s always a struggle for him to pull himself away and not do just one more. but it’s fine, because you never complain when he has you face down ass up in bed, hands raining down spank after spank on your pretty cheeks until they’re red from the impact.

choi jongho - tits

i’m 90% certain that if you’re in a relationship with this man, your tits will become his new favourite thing. whether that’s to look at, to play with, to suck on, it doesn’t really matter. what does matter is they’re his and he will never leave them alone. like he always insists that you wear no bra at home so he can see your pretty nipples; even better if you’re wearing a thin white tshirt too so he can see the colour of them through the material.

the no bra thing also helps when he has his hand slung over your shoulder and he’s pawing at one of them like it’s a stress ball. he won’t even be paying attention to you, yet his hand will be rhythmically palming your tit, his finger flicking against the nipple every so often. and then after all that, when you inevitably ask him to deal with the mess he’s made between your thighs, he’ll have the audacity to act like it’s your fault that you’re horny! he’ll still fuck you though, and you’ll still end up with a nice selection of new purple hickeys across your chest…

[mysumeow]

Yes yay!! I really enjoyed your Malleus smut! Would you care to write another like it but with a Jealous Malleus and feminine reader during the glorious masquerade event, please? Maybe rollo was bothering her throughout the dance and Malleus was getting upset by it, but decides to not do anything about it until the end of the dance where he confronts reader in the comfort of her room.

if you do not like it, then its okay! if you decide to go on and write, then the only thing i request of you is to exclude cuckholding… im not a fan of it…

(and i apologize for my poor english, its not my first language!!)

──ADORNMENT

Warnings: Size kink, unprotected piv, titplay (reader receiving), malleus accidentally bites your lip a little too hard, you also bite him a little bit too hard :). Reader is referred to with you/your, afab body reader, reader is mentioned to be wearing a dress.

Summary: Malleus couldn't help but wonder if Rollo was trying to get on his bad side from the moment he stepped foot into Noble Bell College. He didn't like one bit how intent Rollo was on catching your attention.

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: HI ANON I loved the idea, as you can see from those 2.4k words haha...possessive dragon man gotta be my fav character trait so i was IN. Also, dw about your english, it's not my first either T_T

MASTERLIST

When Rollo's eyes appeared to brighten just the tiniest bit when he found out you weren't a magic user, his slightly more amicable tone of voice when he spoke to you, and the lingering gaze Rollo would watch you with when you weren’t looking at him...

Even if those were small details, Malleus took note of all of them. Needless to say, the fae didn’t like it one bit. Although, he was rather graceful with how he carried his possessiveness in public.

For example, from afar, Rollo’s intention to ask you to dance was obvious, at least to Malleus’s keen eyes. Without rushing, without needing to send any nasty looks to the school council’s president, Malleus approached you and asked you. Malleus placed his hand on his chest, where his heart should be, and gave a slight bow.

With Malleus’s princely charm, it was no surprise that your heart would beat faster at the sight. Almost dumbfounded, you grasped his hand. He took the lead during the ball dance, guiding your movements with swift and precise motions, his hand firm on the small of your back, and adoring eyes. Anyone would think he was beyond smitten.

The intricate pattern of his mask complemented his alluring, half-lidded eyes. The jade of the strategically placed jewels on his clothing was a fine detail you were keen on. Not to mention that tiny mesh window on his chest; you could appreciate the swells of his pecs—

“I think that dress suits you a lot too,” Malleus had caught your mind wandering. “You appear to be rather entranced by the jewel’s beauty,” You spotted his eyes shoot a quick glance towards your neck. “A necklace would look nice on you,” 

You swallowed, the onslaught of compliments flustering you. Or maybe you were embarrassed that Malleus took note of your prolonged, fixed gaze on him. Perhaps it was both.

As is customary for this type of dance, it was time to change dance partners. It was Rollo’s chance to offer his hand as he cleared his throat, but not without first sending a glare towards the taller fae.

“Those NRC boys must be difficult to deal with, are they not?”

“Well, no,” There were times when they could be challenging to deal with, but often they were fun to be with. There’s any time of boredom when hanging out with them, as each one came up with their silly antics. “They’re good classmates,”

“Good classmates?” Rollo seemed amused at your choice of words. “If that’s your definition of a good classmate, I don’t want to know what’s a bad classmate for you,” The snarky undertone of his words didn’t go unnoticed by you, as faint as it was in his tone.

The festive ball occurred with no major inconveniences, and everyone was having fun, but it was soon time to go back to your rooms, as your group still had some activities to attend to in the morning the next day. This will be a major event you will never forget.

You were getting ready to sleep, giving one final check on what you were going to wear the following morning, until someone knocked on your door. You furrowed your eyebrows, thinking who could be at this hour.

Your sight landed first on a broad chest; you craned your neck upwards, meeting Diasomnia’s housewarden intent observation.

“Malleus?” What business could the housewarden have with you at this hour? Was he coming here to reprimand you for your rude stare? You peeked behind him to see if he came with Silver or Sebek, but became rather surprised at the lack of his trusted bodyguards. “Uhm, is there something wrong?”

“Not at all. I wanted to check up on you,” Malleus placed his hand on his chin, thoughtful. “This day has been rather hectic, has it not? And you seemed quite disgruntled when dancing with Flamme,”

“Oh, that?” You laughed, both nervous and relieved. “It’s been a tiring day, that’s true—but fun, too. About Rollo, well, by the time I was dancing with him, I was already drained. Maybe that’s why I looked annoyed, I guess,”

You were too late to notice Malleus inching closer.

“Hm, is that so…” Malleus wasn’t convinced. “I’m not sure whether you’ve perceived it, but he looked invested in you. Furthermore, considering his attitude, I worried he might’ve been bothering you,”

“Not really. He was commenting about how I dealt with NRC students, and that’s it.”

His eyes trailed from your face to the damp tips of your hair. You had taken a quick bath before returning to your room. “It's a relief to know you're not troubled at all,”

“No worries, Malleus. Thanks for checking up on me.”

Your mind came to a stop when his hands reached out to the damp ends of your hair. You became aware of the shift in mood in that instant.

“It did bother me, however.”

Huh?

“What do you mean...?” You wanted to make sure you didn't mishear him or to clear up any confusion there could be.

“I reminisce about you being quite keen on the jewel on my chest,” He changed the topic. You began sweating a bit. “Or were you focused on something else? Mayhap...lower?”

Heat rose to your face. So, he did notice after all. Were you being too obvious? You wanted to bash your head against the nearest wall out of embarrassment.

“I-I’m sorry—”

“Demanding an apology for something I did myself would make me a hypocrite,” His hand left your hair, and he traced his thumb on the juncture of your neck. "Your neck, I meant. I imagined other types of adornment for it,”

The heat. It intensified.

“Would you allow me to show you?” He continued.

Your eyes strayed away from his in preference of landing on his lips. You remembered his fangs—the striking size they had. It wouldn’t be the truth if you said you never fantasized about offering your neck for him to bite down on. Was he referring to adorning your neck with his marks?

“…I’d like that.”

With all the patience in the world, he guided you towards the bed and made you sit on his lap. With a solid grip, his arms circled around your waist and pulled you closer to kiss your neck on a specific area he was intending to mark soon.

At first, it tickled you, he was being gentle about it. You kept squirming on him, and your movements froze the moment he bit down; not hard enough to draw blood, just enough to leave the teeth indents on your skin.

He trailed his kisses from your neck towards your collarbone, pulling down the collar of your top. Without meaning to, your hands roamed around his chest, the palms of your hands pressing against his chest. It was nice to the touch and warmer than you expected.

Malleus, by accident, bit down harder than expected, which caused a chain reaction of you squeezing his pecs firmer than what you pretended to.

The prince pulled away, surprised. You didn’t realize what you did until you realized the positions your hands were in.

“Ah, so that’s what you were actually thinking about during the ball,” He chuckled, amused.

Whoever designed that attire for Malleus knew what they were doing with that little mesh window. Curse them.

You jolted when Malleus’s thumbs rubbed on your nipples through the thin fabric of your pajama’s top. Your little jump further ignited the fae’s curiosity, and he repeated the action. Taking note of your apparent enjoyment from that, one of his hands snaked underneath the top, his hand stopping on your chest and giving it a tentative squeeze.

Malleus became aware of your grinding, and if the lusty haze overcoming your eyes was anything to go by, he dared to finish bunching up your top over your tits and take one into his mouth.

Your hands didn’t move away from his chest, so you began caressing him there again. Was this warmth coming from your own body or his? It felt inviting, making you desire to embrace him and not let go. Your hands went lower, feeling the toned muscles, and soon, you slithered your hands under his clothes too.

The sound that came from his mouth when he gave one last suckle before pulling away from your tits made you sheepish, and you hid your face in his chest. Malleus found your reaction endearing, and he laughed softly, hugging you again.

“Don't hide yourself from me,” Rather than commanding, it was more akin to a plea. “There's nothing to be ashamed of,” Following what felt natural, he reciprocated your grinding by pushing his hips upwards, your clit stimulated by the movement.

Malleus was voracious about learning how to please you, and when he noticed you preferred backward and forward motions, he gripped you by the hips to aid you with that. On your own, you had maintained a moderate tempo; under his eagerness to bring you to an orgasm, it was fast.

Your breathing staggered, and your voice went weak as you tried to form words. “I-I'm going to cum,”

“Shh,” He kissed you. “You're going to wake up the others,”

Even though he attempted to silence you with his lips, a whine escaped you. Without meaning to, as you orgasmed, you bit on his bottom lip, earning yourself a groan from him.

Whatever patience remained was lost in that moment. With restraints lost, both of you bared your bodies to each other.

With teary eyes from the slight sting on your lip, which you had received almost right after from Malleus after you bit him, you left out a small ow.

“I apologize,” Malleus said, wiping the thin line of blood from your lip. “I lost control there for a moment. With how tempting you unraveled before me, I couldn’t hold back,” His tongue licked along your bottom lip again. “But you don't seem to hate it, or am I wrong?”

“Not wrong,” You admitted, and you kissed him again, this time more feverishly.

Malleus’s length was long and undeniably thick, with excessive precum pearling on his tip. In the sitting position, you were on his lap, and you more or less gauged that it reached your belly button.

You shifted your position, the head of his dick poked into your entrance, and you were allured into taking him in one go.

Despite your zeal to have it in one sitting, you knew something of that size needed to be done little by little. Inch by girthy inch.

You lowered yourself, and the tip prodded in. His hold on your waist became harder, and your fingernails were digging in just a bit further. Gripping the dragonfae by the shoulders, you relaxed your legs, and some more of him pushed inside. You came to an abrupt stop when you couldn't fit more in. The tip nudged against your cervix, after all.

You were breathing heavily, and Malleus was too. His chest heaved, and narrowed eyes fixed on you—about to ravish you.

Up and down, gently at first, you began getting used to his size. You started relaxing more, you could swear you were taking what you couldn't at first.

“I see you struggling to move,” the fae brushed away with his fingers, the strands of hair clinging to your face because of sweat. “Want me to lend a hand?”

Your thighs were hurting a bit, so you nodded.

Given how patient he had been, the fast pace he set left you breathless. Your body bounced with the force of his cadence, his stare boring into your vulnerable expressions and focusing on your hitched breaths.

Malleus was looking forward to Rollo’s reaction when he saw the multiple marks scattered across your neck and collarbone. Yet his favorites were the ones that would be hidden under your clothes, the ones on your chest. He was sure to leave more of those soon.

Your thoughts turned into mush, and if it weren’t for Malleus manhandling your hips, you would’ve stopped to catch your breath. Nearing your release, your hands slide down to rub your clit.

This action didn’t go unseen by him; Malleus was a fast learner, and by just taking note of where you wanted to be touched, he understood what his next move should be: use his thumb to play with your delicate nub.

You squealed from the pleasure, his fingers wet with your arousal. With firm, decisive strokes, you climaxed sooner than you were prepared, your pussy squeezing hard around him. The sight of you unraveling before him for a second time that same night, with your naked body clinging to him and your trembling frame, was enough for him to climax seconds later.

When he pulled out, a thick thread of cum clung to the head and dripped down to the base. You could feel the abundant amount of cum dripping from your overstimulated pussy; you never imagined faes could release that much…

“Is your body sore? Do you want me to take you to the bathroom?” The dense fog of lust dissipated enough, and the intimacy you shared solidified a thought. He was convinced: You’re the one for him.

“Yeah…” You managed to respond, still coming down from that climax.

Thanks to Malleus’s help, you both headed in the direction of the closest bathroom available.

A loud clang from the end of the hallway made you face in that direction, finding out who dropped the oil lamp to the floor.

None other than the president of Noble Bell College's School Council, who saw you and Malleus walk out of your room.

[karlatakicker]

RUIN SPOILERS!!

i’m very attached to roxanne, and after the dlc i am very attached to cassie too! so here’s my thoughts on the both of them and why their relationship is just so unbelievably special to me

1. it’s implied that they both don’t really have any friends, as sad as it is. Roxanne says to Cassie in their conversation that she thinks that her friends will come to her party this time, which obviously means Cassie’s friends are either nonexistent or aren’t very nice. it’s also implied that Roxanne is disliked by the other children in the pizzaplex because of her desire to win and lack of empathy thus unawareness that children are upset by the idea of losing. so, the idea of them both becoming friends and acknowledging each-other is truly special if they have nobody else.

2. Roxanne’s desire to win on her race track is overridden by her kindness and feelings towards Cassie. in their conversation Roxanne remembers Cassie because she beat her twice on the track, which leads to Roxanne almost sounding proud despite being beaten which she usually expresses anger for. (I’ve been told this doesn’t mean what I think, Number 1 twice refers to Cassie’s birthday, but you can argue that it still shows something between them by the fact Roxanne is willing to say Cassie is Number 1, despite Roxanne constantly wanting to be Number 1.)

3. Cassie’s clear empathy towards Roxanne as her favourite - she pities and feels for Roxanne when she’s crying in the salon. despite seeing the horrid conditions that all the other animatronics are in, Roxanne as Cassie’s favourite is the only one she truly feels for.

4. Roxanne’s infatuation with herself does not inflict with her remembering details about Cassie. Roxy asking about and sharing Cassie’s love of carrot cake (and remembering her birthday) shows an attachment that Roxanne seems to have with no-one else, as thinking of herself does not conflict with thinking of Cassie.

5. in the cutouts of Cassie and Roxanne standing side by side, they’re mirrored. Cassie has similar makeup on to Roxy, and is holding her mirror the exact same way. Cassie wants to be exactly like Roxanne, to the point of copying her actions and being dolled up like her. these images of the two of them are simply to establish a connection between them, so it hurts a lot more when it comes down to de-activating Roxanne.

6. Roxanne, despite being so angered at the idea of not being pretty and being so damaged, has no hesitation in jumping to save Cassie despite possibly getting more damaged or even being completely broken because of it.

7. the line “it has been some time since i saw you last” can be interpreted as Roxanne had thought of Cassie since the last time she had been to the pizzaplex. it makes their reunion all that more heartbreaking because when Roxanne meets her again, it’s for Cassie to deactivate her.

8. Roxanne asking if Cassie had booked her party yet, is essentially Roxy asking if Cassie was going to come back and see her - Cassie, the only kid that Roxy is shown to have a connection with.

9. Cassie stroking Roxanne’s fingers before deactivating her, as if to give her the last comfort she’ll ever feel.

anyway that ends my rant. they’re just so special to me despite them having like 3 interactions. they are the true little sister/big sister animatronic and human pairing we needed. if I don’t get an ending where they’re sitting on the hill eating carrot cake, the developers are going to get a very strongly worded email.

(just to clarify months on from this post, the developers have received a very strongly worded email.)

[drabblesandimagines]

Dove

Leon Kennedy x fem reader Thinking of making this a little series, will be a fluff, bit of a slow burn, bodyguard trope?

You aren’t sure how you’d got through the last few hours.  Everything’s a blur as you try to think back of the horror that had occurred, now you’re now sat in an unfamiliar chair in an unfamiliar office. Your right arm is in a sling, shoulder throbbing somewhat from a reset dislocation, broken fingers splintered together on the same arm, medical tape holding a wound closed on your temple, disinfectant swiped across the numerous scrapes, your body aching with developing bruises on your legs, poking out from under your dress, from the fall down the stairs – the fall that apparently ended up saving your life from the unearthly creature that had rampaged through your workplace and tore your co-workers apart.

After being treated by a DSO medic, you’d been escorted by a tall, armed to the gills, annoyingly silent man. He’d confiscated your phone, despite the fact the screen was smashed and wouldn’t turn on, and taken you across the city to the main HQ, ushered up a side entrance into the room you now sat, told you to wait, and left you alone for what felt like hours.

The door eventually opens and a smartly dressed, pretty woman, hair pinned up in a bun and wearing glasses enters, immediately heading to the other side of the desk and taking what you assumed was her seat. A handsome man accompanied her, shaggy brown hair, dressed in cargo pants, fingerless gloves, knife strapped to his thigh, finished off with a leather jacket, a holster poking out from underneath. He gives you a sympathetic once over as he sits down besides you, careful not to brush your knee with his own as he does. Considerate.

“Were you given adequate pain medication?” The lady asks abruptly, beginning to type on her keyboard.

You stare at her a moment – she’s all business. “Er… Yeah. Thanks.” Though you’re sure the two of them have noticed the wince as you shuffled in your seat. The medic had offered you stronger stuff but you’d declined, wanting to keep your wits about you. “Sorry, what’s happening now?”

“I’m Ingrid Hunnigan, this is Agent Kennedy.” She nods to the man opposite her.

“Name’s Leon.” The man besides you offers his hand and you notice he’s adapted for your incapacitated arm, in what will surely result in a very awkward handshake but the gesture is nice. You take it, hoping the tremor in your grip isn’t so painfully obvious. “Hi. Erm, I’m-”

“Dove.” Hunnigan cuts you off. “I am aware of your identity, but we will be referring to you as Dove.”

“It’s a codename.” Leon explains, a little less business. “For your safety.”

Hunnigan pauses in her typing, hitting backspace slowly as she replies. “Agent Kennedy will be your protection detail until we get this mess squared up.”

Your breath catches in your throat at her choice of word, a sick feeling twisting in your stomach. “Mess? It was a massacre in there-”

“I know. We know.” The agent besides you stresses. “I’m sorry you had to see all that.”

“Am I the only one who…?” You don’t know why you ask.

“I’m afraid so.” Hunnigan replies, a little softer in tone. “We’re going to send you to a safe house. Agent Kennedy will stay with you.”

“O-okay.” You nod, not taking it all in. “You… You think they’d send whatever that thing was after me?”

“That’s what we need time to establish.” Hunnigan replies. “From the CCTV, after the attack, there was a breach on the database. We need to establish how much data they managed to extract, if any. Agent Kennedy will keep you updated as much as he can when he receives any intel.” She turns more to him then, cutting you out of the conversation. “I’ll send the co-ordinates of the safe house when you’re out of the city. They’re loading up an SUV with supplies for at least a week. If it goes on longer, we’ll arrange a supply drop via another location.”

“That long?” You feel like you’re interrupting.

“Worse case scenario, Dove.” Leon offers you a smile. “I’m sure we’ll have you back home in no time. Did they send you away with any meds?”

“The medic sent in a report – with a treatment plan. It’s in the information pack, prescribed medicine is in with the supplies. Again, enough for a week.” Hunnigan replies. “I’ve arranged clothes too – medic guessed your size for me. We’ll be keeping your phone for now.”

“Why?”

“We can’t allow you to contact anyone – for your safety and theirs.”

Your heart skips a beat at that comment. “Wait… You think I might be behind this, don’t you?”

Hunnigan purses her lips. “It is an avenue we need to explore. There are questions as to why you alone survived. We will be dispatching a team to your residence once the two of you are out of the city to help in our investigation.”

“Again, that’s just protocol.” Leon tries to reassure, but your mind is whirling. “No-one is accusing you of anything, Dove.”

“I… I’ve worked here for years, I passed all the clearance checks. I wouldn’t, I didn’t…”

“As Agent Kennedy said, it’s just protocol. If you have nothing to hide, there is nothing to fear.” Hunnigan resumes tapping away at the keyboard as she talks, pausing as the computer emits a ping. “SUV’s ready. I suggest you two go.”

Leon gets to his feet, once more offering his hand to help you to yours. He smiles, sympathetically, as he takes in your appearance – your face has lost what little colour it had.

“Time to go, Dove. It’ll be all right.”

You want to say no, you feel like you need to stay to plead your innocence, but you catch sight of the gun holstered by his side and the flame of defiance is extinguished. You take his hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet. He places his hand on the small of your back to guide you back through the door and you can’t work out if it should feel like comfort or a threat.

--

You felt numb as Leon had escorted you to a large SUV with blacked out windows in an empty carpark. He’d opened the door for you, helped you climb in before hesitating.

“Need a hand with your seatbelt?”

You stare at him for a moment too long.

“Because of your arm, I mean.”

“Oh. Please.”

He leans over you, grabbing the seatbelt and clicking it into place.

“Right. Comfy?”

“Yeah.” You swallow. “Thanks.”

He nods, closes the door behind him – softly, you note, rather than a slam and it’s then you realise that you also can’t see out the windows. He hops up into the front, buckles his own seatbelt and starts the engine, swinging the SUV out of the parking space with ease. You can’t really see anything from where you’re sat, bar the back of his head and it must be deliberate.

“Hopefully it’s not too long of a drive.” He comments. “Had one that was a twelve hours’ away once and we are not allowed to stop for bathroom breaks.”

“Are you allowed to tell me how far away it is when you know?”

“Don’t see why not. Hunnigan will ping it through once we’re clear enough.”

It’s hard to tell how much time has passed when, eventually, the promised ping echoes around the car. You can hear him tap his fingers against something and he hums to himself.

“We’re in luck – about two hours away, Dove. Want some music on? Don’t have any CDs but got the radio.”

Maybe the music will help drown out how loud your heart is thudding in your ears. ”Yeah, sure.”

He fiddles with the dial – sound crackling around the car before it settles on some acoustic tune you don’t recognize. Must be some easy listening station.

“You can nap, if you like.”

“Maybe.” Though you’re not sure how you’ll ever sleep again after today.

The rest of the drive passes in silence, apart from the sound of the radio. You close your eyes a few times, leaning your head back against the seat but the creature seems burned into your retinas, haunting your vision.

“This is us.” Leon breaks the silence as you feel the car turn and he reduces the speed. He switches off the car and unclicks his seatbelt, turning back to face you. “Wait there just a moment, okay?”

“Yeah.”

 He smiles, opens his door and hops out, again closing the door softly behind him. What must be a few minutes later, your door opens and he once again offers his hand.

“Ready?

You unclip your seatbelt with your good hand before accepting his outstretched one, helping you step down from the SUV. You’re in a garage now of some sort – spacious enough to fit the car and what looks to be a chest freezer, washer and tumble dryer - the whole room illuminated by an orange bulb.

“So, we said safe house – seems more like a safe bungalow to me. I’ll give you the tour.” He gestures forward towards an open door and you walk forward, once again his hand falling to the small of your back. It leads through to a modest sized kitchen – usual white appliances and opens out into a living room with two couches, a coffee table and an entertainment unit with a television. There are two more doors along the wall, but what really strikes you is how small the windows all are, covered in thick panes of glass.

Bulletproof, you wonder.

“Bathroom’s this one,” he opens the door in demonstration, revealing a typical bathroom, before moving along. “And the bedroom.” It has a double bed, white linen sheets, a wardrobe and dresser. “Your bedroom,” he corrects. “I’ll be on the couch.”

“Oh. Is that comfortable?”

He smiles at your concern. “I’m pretty good at sleeping anywhere, but it looks comfortable enough. Speaking of, it’s pretty late so I think we should call it a night.” He ducks into the bathroom, pulling out a washbag from under the sink and empties the contents on the counter. “Standard toiletries kit to start us off. I’m gonna start bringing in the supplies. Sound good?”

You nod and he heads back towards the garage. You kick off your shoes before you step into the bathroom and close the door, twisting the lock closed. You use the facilities with some difficulty, your first visit since being an arm down, though thankful to be in a dress so as not to battle with trousers. After what some might call a best attempt of washing your hand, you pick up the toothbrush and immediately put it back down in annoyance as you realise you’ll need to deal with the toothpaste first. Thankful for the flip cap, the tube slips from your grip as you squeeze, shooting across the counter and knocking a glass off the counter, sending it smashing to the floor.

“Fu-” The word doesn’t even make it out of your mouth when the door is broken open, slammed against the wall and Leon is stood there, gun raised as you scream.

He scans the room with his eyes, concedes it’s clear and lowers his gun. “What happened? You okay?”

“I… I d-dropped the t-t-toothpaste and smashed the g-glass and…” Your breath catches in your throat again, tears burning in your eyes.

“Hey,” he holsters the gun on his thigh. “Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay. Sorry for scaring you. I thought there was a window in here.”

He looks down at the broken glass that’s exploded over the floor and your sock-clad feet. “Sit down, all right? I’ll clear this up.”

“No, I s-should-”

“I can do it. Just sit, please. I’ll go grab a dustpan – they have one. Not my first safe house.” He soothes, heading off into the kitchen cupboards in search of it.

You sit down on the closed toilet seat lid and wonder bitterly if he’s at more safe houses than his own home. You take the moment to try and settle your breathing, your heart still pounding.

Leon appears at the door once more, grinning as he holds the dustpan and brush aloft in triumph. “Found it.” He crouches down, beginning to sweep up the glass. You watch in silence as he tackles the floor methodically, making sure to brush along each square of bathroom tile until he seems satisfied with his work.

“There. All done.” He places it to the side and grabs the troublesome toothpaste tube, before standing up to his full height. “So, this was the culprit, huh?”

You nod. “I don’t know what happened - the only difference was the toothbrush being on the counter, so I should be able to do it, just-”

He picks up the toothbrush and squeezes a blob of toothpaste on it. “On the house.” Leon jokes, offering it back to you. You stand up and accept it, hesitantly.

“I kinda feel pathetic.” You admit.

“Dove…” You’re getting a little used to the name now. It sounds nice off his tongue – soft and sweet. “You’ve had a shitty day, give yourself a break.”

“No, I mean, it just feels like you’re my servant or something – sweeping up, squeezing out my toothpaste...”

“To protect and serve’s the motto.” He smiles at your confused look. “I was a cop before I was an agent.”

“And this is the stuff you did as a cop?”

“Yes, alongside the helping old ladies with their groceries, helping ducks cross the street…” He teases, before nodding at the toothbrush in your hand. “I’ll leave you to it.”

After brushing your teeth without further incident and taking a few more moments to compose yourself, you exit the bathroom. Leon’s stood at the kitchen counter, paper bag in hand, looking at pill packets. There’s a couple of duffel bags near the garage door, one unzipped.

“Medical notes say it’s painkiller time, I’m afraid.” He grabs a glass from the cupboard, fills it up with water from the tap and places it down besides two white pills. “They’ve given you some sleeping tablets as well, but that’s up to you.”

“Do they stop you dreaming?”

Leon grimaces at your question. “From personal experience, yeah. No dreams.”

You hold out your hand. “Then I’ll take them.”

He nods, shaking another two pills out of a bottle and into his hand, picking up the other two and drops them in your hand. You open your mouth and throw them in, before accepting the glass of water, swallowing it all down.

“So, er, this is gonna be a little bit awkward, but I don’t know what you prefer to sleep in, obviously, but I’m assuming not that.”

“Oh. Yeah, no.”

“So, I pulled out a couple of things.” He nods towards the bedroom, where you can see some items of clothing laying out on the bed. He’s turned the bedside lamp on, the room softly illuminated in a white glow.

“You really are a safe house pro.”

“Ha, yeah.” He grins, rubbing the back of his head. “I guess my question is, do you need a hand with changing? 100% respectful offer, obviously.”

You nod. “Please.”

“Okay. After you.”

You walk into the bedroom, Leon keeping his distance this time. There’s an oversized t-shirt in the pile, looks like it will reach your knees. You pick it up with your good hand, clutching it close to your chest and turn to face him.

“Can you help with the sling?”

“Yep.” He nods – professional, unstrapping it with ease and removing it gently. “Afraid medic says you need to sleep with the sling for a week.”

“Mm.” You nod, hanging your arm down loose before turning around. “I guess if you could unzip and I’ll…”

“Got it.” He tugs down the zipper of your dress slowly – if it was some other encounter you’d say he was being a tease. He stops as he reaches the small of your back, just above your underwear. “What can I do now?”

Your breath hitches in your throat, but there’s no getting around it now. “Any good at undoing a bra? Professionally.”

“Professionally, yep.” You feel gentle fingers deftly unclasp it with ease.

“I think I’ve got it from now until the sling needs back on, so-”

“Say no more. Just call when you’re ready.”

The door closes behind you and you exhale, trying to compose yourself. It’s more months since a man had helped you out of a dress and this, after everything today and the situation you’re in, unsure if he sees you as victim or villain, shouldn’t be making you feel flustered.

Gingerly, you slip one arm out of the dress, followed by the other, wincing as you do so and allowing it to pool down at your feet. Next comes your bra, and then you gently pull the t-shirt over your head, again flinching as your shoulder smarts.

Decent, or decent enough, you call out. “Leon? I’m ready.”

“Coming in.” He announces, pausing a moment before opening the door and immediately moves to pick up the sling from where he placed it on the bed. “I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

With practiced hands, he positions your arm into the sling, adjusting it carefully and fastening it in place once more. “There. Feel okay?”

“Yeah.” You look him in the eyes then – beautiful, blue eyes, before fighting back a yawn. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiles. “That will be the sleeping pills kicking in. I forgot to mention they’re real heavy duty.”

“Mm.” You sit down on the bed then, a little too heavily, before picking up your discarded dress on the floor. “Could you bin this?”

“Of course.” He takes it from you, no question. “Anything else I can do?”

“No. Thank you.”

“You don’t need to keep thanking me, Dove. It’s all right – I told you, part of the job.”

“Still, thank you.” You mumble, head feeling heavy.

“Here,” he pulls back the covers as you scooch yourself back and lean your head back on the pillow, tucking the duvet in over you. “Arm still okay?”

You nod, looking up at him with bleary eyes.

“I swear what happened wasn’t anything to do with me. I swear.”

“Shh,” Leon hushes. “I know.” He feels it in his gut, felt it since the moment he lay eyes on you in Hunnigan’s office. “Maybe tomorrow we’ll hear some updates. But, for now, just sleep. Okay, Dove?”

“Sleep, okay…” You mumble, closing your eyes.

Leon hovers a moment, noting the change in your breathing as the sleeping pills pull you under. He turns off the bedside lamp and leaves the bedroom, quietly, your dress clutched in his hand. He places it in the kitchen bin – there’s an incinerator round the back to erase all trace of their visit, but he’ll do that in the morning.

He makes his way over to the sofa and lies down, not even bothering to remove his boots.

He won’t be sleeping tonight.

-- Do let me know if you'd be interested in a part two! x EDIT: Part two!

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

[agustdiv1ne]

❦°｡9:51 p.m. (m) — choi soobin

genre: dark content, mdni!!! ageless blogs dni!!!! serial killer!soobin, fem!potential victim!reader, thriller, light smսt

wc: 3.5k

warnings: talks of murder (but none actually occur), slight coercion, oral (m receiving), drugging, violence, weapons, blood, general insanity....

this fic contains dark content. please heed all warnings above and read at your own discretion.

soobin’s favorite color is red. 

he’s quite obsessed with it, really. his favorite shirt is a maroon button-up, his phone case has crimson details…he tries to look for it everywhere when he’s out and about, he surrounds himself with it at home. his favorite time of year is when the humid summer fades into mild autumn, as the change in seasons brings with it ruby leaves and dying trees — oh, death. in addition to the fiery shade, soobin finds himself enamored with eternal rest. it’s just oh so freeing, an end of a cycle, a path to purity. there is nothing more pure than the act of shedding the mortal skin to find a higher meaning — to be reborn. 

soobin likes helping people be reborn just as much as he likes the color red. 

but only people he finds worthy: the innocent ones, the ones who have placed too much trust in a world that is wrought with cruelty and had their hearts ripped out in the process. those are the ones who need saving, he thinks, and he finds great happiness, an overwhelming sense of pride, in being the one who can save them. it’s fate that brings him into these people’s lives, after all. something has chosen him to guide these people towards a greater path, to help the weak and downtrodden, the ones looking for betterment. there is no doubt in his mind that would cause him to think otherwise.

he adores helping people, but he wishes that they were just a bit more sympathetic to his cause. it’s not as if he enjoys hurting them, but his methods are the only way that any of this can be accomplished. no matter how much he tries to explain, they always scream and cry and beg to be let go, they always try to run away even if they’re bound…they don’t understand that all he wants to do is take them to a better place, yet they make it so difficult for him to be nice, to keep his composure. they always make him resort to extremes — but at the same time, he can't be too disappointed when they struggle. 

blood is unequivocally beautiful to him, after all.

the city has faded into darkness since he’s begun unwinding from the work week. soobin’s office job provides him with little joy and nothing to look forward to, so he often spends his nights taking walks about the city. sometimes, he’s looking for something, someone; and sometimes, he simply allows the cool air to soothe him, wandering without a particular goal in mind, just living. breathing. being. 

tonight, however, the former rings true. it’s been too long since he’s last aided a stranger. his previous succor occurred over three months ago, and the empty, unfulfilled feeling within his chest has chipped away at flesh and bone until nothing but a gaping cavern remains. it’s time to fill that aching void up again. he loves people, he loves helping them. it’s the only thing in his life that makes him feel truly alive. doing this is as vital as his need to breathe, to eat.

as he continues to stroll along the fog-shrouded road, he eventually spots his next potential project: you’re stumbling along the sidewalk in front of him, sobs ripping themselves from your throat so loud that he can hear them despite the significant distance separating himself from you. dressed in a creamy white coat and light wash jeans, you look like an angel from behind. he wonders what your face looks like, fresh with tears and red-rimmed eyes. where are you headed at this hour — alone, no less? more importantly, what’s gotten you so worked up? do you need his help? evidently, you might. it wouldn’t hurt to check on you.

quickening his pace, his long legs begin to close the distance between you and him. despite his intentionally loud footfalls, you do not seem to acknowledge his presence behind you as he approaches. you should be more careful; you never know who could take advantage of your vulnerable state, although he is grateful that he is the one to find you. he has only your best interests in mind, unlike the rest of the selfish population of this city. you don’t turn around even when he’s finally a mere few feet away, so lost in your own little world that its real counterpart has all but fallen away. 

“miss?” he calls, deep voice ringing out into the chilled air. an air of friendly concern is apparent in his timbre, and it’s not a lie. he really is concerned for you. “are you okay?”

your entire form jolts, feet coming to a halt as you spin around to face him — and oh, you poor thing. streaks of watered down mascara mar your cheeks, eyes round and bloodshot and glinting with tears beneath the streetlight above. your hands come up to wipe under your eyes in a weak attempt of hiding your current emotional state. evidently, it fails, gray spreading further across your face as he blinks at you, wrinkles forming between his brows while he waits for a response.

“i’m— i’m fine, thank you.” while your words are meant to placate his worry, your quiet, warbly tone is less than convincing. he decides not to pry too hard — you look halfway ready to flee as it is — instead opting to remain in place as he drinks you in. indeed, you look like an angel. even with your puffy eyes and kicked puppy expression, he finds you lovely, your voice soft and delicate like wind chimes. the overwhelming urge to wrap you in his arms, to keep you safe from the world, flashes through his body. he pushes the feeling away. he can’t scare you away if he wants to learn more about your situation, whether or not you are worthwhile. 

“are you sure?” he gently asks. for a second, your eyes blink up at him, less guarded now. soobin is well acquainted with his effect on women, the softness he holds in his voice and gaze, the openness of his features that must scream trust me. he can tell that he’s got you when you toy with your bottom lip for a moment, gaze trailing off towards the side of the side as you decide to continue this conversation with him. you easily could have walked away, or even told him to leave you alone, but you don’t. you don’t, and he feels his heart pound in excitement because of it.

staring down at his shoes, you murmur, “yeah, it’s just— it’s stupid, actually, nevermind.”

“well, it surely can’t be that stupid if it made you cry.” and your upset mask cracks just the slightest bit. so pretty. so, so pretty. your smile causes every single nerve ending in his body to tingle. a smile forms on his own face, and something in the air between you changes in that moment. a mutual understanding that you won’t be explaining the reason behind your tears right now, but some company would be nice. 

a convenience store lies maybe twenty feet up in the road, and he falls into step with you once you ask if he’d like to grab something to eat there. he quickly learns that you prefer the veggie triangle kimbap over any other flavor and that you have a borderline strange obsession with banana milk, but he still hasn’t learned your name. as you continue talking, the realization eats at him. he likes you, he thinks that you’re sweet and kind — too kind for this world. you deserve better. if he continues to get close to you, maybe you’ll be understanding enough to accept what he’s trying to do here. soobin can be quite patient, after all, and you seem more than worth his time. however, his first step in this plan is to learn your name. 

leaning against the counter next to him, you beat him to the punch. “i never got your name.”

fuck, your voice sings so prettily in his ears, and you look so shy, so demure just asking that. how sweet you are. all he wants to do is wrap you up and protect you, hold you close and shield you from everything terrible. instead, he swallows down a mouthful of ramen and gives you a charming smile. “soobin. choi soobin.”

“that’s a nice name,” you say, innocent eyes peering up at him. the redness has receded to the edges of your scleras, the puffiness of your face slightly calmed down. he’s made you feel better, but he knows he can eliminate all sorrow from your life, if you’ll allow him to.

“i’m sure yours is prettier,” he says, voice trailing off at the end. with a playful roll your eyes, you provide your own, and his grin grows wider. “ah, i was right.”

the flustered press of your lips is enough to tell him that his plan is working so far. your naivety is endearing to him. it makes everything easier — even better, when he asks to walk you home after citing potential danger, you accept without a single hint of doubt, eyes wide as you comment that you hadn’t thought of that. so sweet, so trusting. no one else will be able to hurt you now that he has set his sights on you.

“would you…like to come in?” you ask as soon as you reach your building, shyness returning in full force. hope drips from each word, your fingers nervously fidgeting at your sides. he can’t help but accept your offer. he’d honestly be a fool not to.

your apartment is a modest one-bedroom with a small living room, a living room in which he finds himself in as you busy yourself in the kitchen. trying not to stare too hard at your form over the small island that separates the two rooms, he busies himself with picking at a loose thread on the couch. for some reason, nerves eat at his stomach, festering there like a swarm of wasps. he’s never had someone invite him into their home so early on. this is new, different — he’s not sure what to do with himself. 

“could i offer you some water? or tea?” you call. he swivels his head to find you looking at him while waving a teapot in the air. the moment you realize what you are doing, you drop your arm, your free hand coming up to scratch your cheek. 

holding back a chuckle, he offers a kind nod. “tea sounds wonderful, thank you.”

this seems like the correct choice, if your wide grin is anything to go by. would you look the same if he tells you what he plans with you? would you understand? he’s not sure yet, but he will learn with time. so far, you’re his favorite, even if he’s known you for less than an hour. you are the closest to being untainted. perhaps it’s a selfish desire, but keeping you around for a bit longer than the others wouldn’t be so bad. he ponders if he should just take you with him now just as he did with all the others. he’s got a packet of pills in his trouser pocket waiting to be used, it would almost be too easy to slip one into your drink given your acute lack of awareness. at the same time, he has learned from his past mistakes; patience will bring his plan to fruition. this is just the beginning.

a mug of tea appears before his eyes, and he swallows down a flinch before he’s reaching out to take it from you. your fingers just barely brush against his, nearly making him drop the mug. your skin — it’s soft, warm. he wants to feel it more, have his palms run over every one of your curves, feel your chest against his as he takes you…he swats those thoughts away as he shifts uncomfortably. 

silence fills the space between you, a blanket over his head meant to suffocate him. he takes a sip of the steaming hot tea, a dark, cloudy amber in a pompompurin mug that just seems so you. the tea itself blooms sweet on his tongue, notes of honey and lavender coating his taste buds, his muscles relaxing into the couch as he continues to sip the liquid, eventually downing the rest. he glances over to find that you have shrunk into yourself, sock-clad feet curled up onto the couch while your hands grip your own mug close your chest. 

“i’m going to go to the bathroom, i’ll be right back,” you say suddenly, placing your mug on the coffee table before scurrying off. the bathroom door slams shut, the lock clicking immediately after, leaving him alone. he stares at your mug. the item taunts him. come on, put something in there. mix it up and take you now. 

he shouldn’t. he should be patient, but the opportunity is right here for him to take. you’ll be understanding once he explains everything to you. you’ll be different from the others. 

so he slips a pill from his pocket and drops it into your mug, watching the capsule dissolve into the transparent liquid. the slight change in color and opacity doesn’t worry him — it’s not as if your perception is that acute. when the sound of your approaching footsteps forces him back to his side of the couch, his heart begins to pound against his ribcage so hard that he fears it may burst. keep it together. you won’t notice. 

instead of plopping onto your original seat, you make the bold decision to sit down right next to him, facing him. biting your lip, your eyes flit to the floor, then back to him. an invisible magnet pulls you closer. once mere millimeters separate your faces, he pauses, staring down at the way your chest stutters, so close to his own. he should stop this — he just met you, but the way you trust him so easily is doing things to him that he’s never felt before. this twisting feeling in his stomach…it’s so sweet, and you’re just so cute. he wants to protect you. he wants to use you. 

it’s unclear who commits first, but his lips are pressed against yours. softness is the first thing that he registers, then the uncertainty that freezes you against him. a hand moves up to cup your jaw, holding you close to him as he moves his lips gently against your own. slowly, you begin to reciprocate, lips parting to allow his tongue to slip into your mouth. slow, soft...it’s everything soobin has wished for in his lonely life. this kind of connection, this gentle intimacy that is now filling that empty hole in his heart that has always yearned to be filled. he has kissed others before, yes, but he’s never felt like this.

the feeling is quickly becoming too much for him, especially now that your hands are sliding their way towards his waistband. pulling away, he grabs your hands, holding them as holds your gaze. “you don’t have to. i know we just met—”

“but i want to,” you pout, wide, pitiful gaze burning through his as you slip off the couch and onto the wooden floor, your hands leaving his to rest on his thighs. “don’t you want it too?”

he shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, but the sight of you on your knees between his thighs with a cute little pout gracing your lips makes him wonder what you would look like with his cock shoved down your throat, tears streaming down your face as you choke on him. 

pawing at his thighs, you plead, “please, soobin? you helped me feel better, i want to make you feel good too. please?” 

you might just start crying if he doesn’t let you — and he would hate to be the reason why, so he gives in with a nod, helping you unzip his trousers and shove his boxers down his thighs, revealing his hard dick to your eager eyes. your hand looks so small compared to him, barely able to wrap around his girth as you begin to pump him, lips wrapping around his cockhead and your tongue slipping into his slit to taste the salty precum gathered there. he groans, head thrown back against the couch as he resists thrusting up into your mouth. 

“so good, fuck,” he groans, his voice trailing off into a moan as the pleasure begins to build, your hums against his cock sending him straight towards euphoria. suddenly, your head lurches forward, taking as much of him into your mouth as you can, your hand pumping what you are unable to fit. his eyes roll back into his head, staccato moans leaving his lips while you bob your head up and down, your throat contracting around his cockhead before you’re pulling yourself off with a cough. 

he tries to move his hand to caress your hair, to give you some semblance of comfort, only to realize that he can’t. his arms won’t move, nor will his head, or his legs — or anything. wait, what the fuck? what’s going on with him? all he can do is sit there and watch as you continue to pump him faster, licking up his precum at his tip until he cums in weak spurts into your mouth. he can’t even cant his hips, and he can barely feel his orgasm wash over him, numbness spreading across his body. humming, your eyes flutter shut as you swallow his release. when you look up at him again, the glint within them has changed. darker, cunning. 

“i know your secret.”

when he doesn’t respond — his mouth won’t move — your smile grows sharp, predatory. moving to stand between his legs, you lean down to his level, brow raising when his attempt to speak results in unintelligible groans. “aw, cat got your tongue? that’s fine, makes all of this easier for me.”

all of this? what the hell are you talking about? why can’t he move? 

you seem to recognize the confusion swirling in his umber irises, booping his nose with a manicured finger before you’re turning around and reaching for your mug. inspecting it’s contents, you take in the cloudy liquid before your focus returns back to him, amusement apparent in your tone. “you tried to drug me! that’s so cute!”

setting the mug back down, you slink back over to him. 

“y’know, soobin, i thought you’d be smarter than this,” you pout, sitting next to him and throwing your legs over his lap. no matter how much he wills himself to move, he’s frozen. all feeling has left his body, not even the sensation of your nail gliding along his cheek registers. “drank all that tea and didn’t even notice, you poor thing. can’t speak, can’t move, whatever are you going to do now? can’t kill me like the rest of them now…”

oh, fuck. you know — you’ve known this entire time. you’ve lured him into your trap, and he fucking fell for all of it, didn’t even question why you invited him in so easily, why you weren’t worried about a complete, potentially dangerous stranger being in your home. he couldn’t have planned for this outcome if he tried. 

“you got too cocky, baby,” you giggle, right hand reaching between your legs and into the cushions, coming up with a large knife. “never thought someone like me would pull a stunt like this, did ya? isn’t it exciting being the victim for once? i just love the thrill.”

“and you know what else i like, binnie?” you coo, tracing the silver blade against his jawline. muscles melted into the couch, soobin can only emit fearful grunts as you dig in and break skin. blood bubbles up to the surface of the wound before spilling down his neck. fuck, you cut him deep, but he can barely feel the pain.

a snap of your fingers guides his attention back to you. “i love red, just like you.”

swiping a finger through the blood dripping down his neck, you bring it up to your lips and suck, moaning at the iron-rich taste. you’re the farthest thing from the innocent lamb he painted you as. you’re fucking psychotic, pupils dilated and grin so wide your lips may split at the corners as you climb into his lap, knife now pressed against his throat. he’s completely at your mercy — your prey. cornered, nowhere to go.

“i think we’re gonna have lots of fun together,” you coo, pressing a venom-laced kiss against his lips, the bloody blade cutting into him once more. “don’t you think so too?”

masterlist

© to agustdiv1ne. do not copy, repost, steal, and/or translate.

[midnightarcheress]

Simon takes you to the museum.

pairing: bodyguard!ghost x actress!reader cw: implied ptsd. 4 | gold rush masterlist.

the timid yellows creeping up the tree leaves announce the beginning of autumn, crisp air filling their lungs as they walk through the Tuileries Garden. Simon tries his best to act calm, focusing on how you make your way on the footpath around the octagonal lake, but the city’s sounds and the bustling crowd in the park keep him on edge, fingers rhythmically touching the dense fabric of his jeans for a faint sense of safety in the present.

despite his anxiety levels spiking, he still manages to appreciate the view. the remaining flowers from warmer days paint the grass with vivid colours and, on the horizon, he catches a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower on the other side of the river. the sun shines brightly in the sky, almost casting a golden halo over your head, the tender heat warming his brittle heart in a brief moment of peace.

“the museum is that way,” you look back at him, pointing to your left. ever since Daniel complied with your request for time off, you’ve been researching the perfect spot to spend your free afternoon, ultimately landing on the Orangery Museum. at least a museum is supposed to be a quiet place, Simon thinks.

“did you know that this building was actually a greenhouse?” you ask, walking through the entrance, “it was created to store the citrus trees from the garden, that’s why this side has so many windows.” your head tilts to the riverside facade and he silently hums, acknowledging you.

his lips involuntarily curve at your enthusiasm. the two of you don’t talk much on the daily, but it was endearing to see how happy you were for being surrounded by art, and he didn’t mind hearing you babble about the paintings. or about anything, honestly. the sound of your voice was soothing, pacifying the nerves that had been eating his insides since he stepped out of bed. 

“oh, those are my favourite!” you tug on his forearm, pulling him into an oval room with huge panels, the tiny inscriptions on the side reading ‘Claude Monet’, “those are water lilies, y’know, the flower? he did two-hundred-and-something paintings based on a pond in his property, can you imagine that?” 

“they’re pretty,” he mumbles, observing the thin brushstrokes. art is far from his strong suit, but he liked how the paintings captured the fickles of light and how they lacked the usual restrained aspect seen in other pieces – they seemed relaxed, floaty, free. so different from your life. maybe that’s why you loved it so much.

you drag him through the whole exhibit, explaining little details of the museum, the garden, the techniques, and he listens closely, his attention never leaving your mouth, completely entranced by your words. he didn’t feel the weight of the duty nor the need to protect you there, it was a different world. your own little bubble, and you allowed him inside. 

his hand brushes on your shoulder while exiting the building, guiding you through the door. he’s not keen on being outside again, sirens already buzzing in his brain with the idea of potential threats lurking in the shadows.

trying not to let the perpetual concern flood his mind, he clears his throat and sparks up conversation, ignoring the rules pairing over his head. no talking, no touching. “so, how did you learn so much about... all that?” he gestures back to the museum.

“oh, uhm, i used to paint,” you start, hiding the smile sneaking up your lips at his unexpected interest, “took a course in art history too.”

his eyebrows raise. “used to?” 

“yeah, when i had more time to myself,” he notices your sigh, studying the sudden solemn expression that outlines your face. your beautiful face, “but i wasn’t very good at it.” you chuckle, downsizing your abilities, and he snorts, not fully believing you. it’s the first time you’ve seen him showing any sort of emotion besides indifference, and he prides himself on the surprise gracing your features. 

it was nice, walking with you. not behind you. did he enjoy the view? yes, but this – him by your side, arms swinging together, matching steps – was real. genuine. it almost felt like a date, not that he would ever dare to say it out loud. everything was perfect.

until it wasn’t.

it happened so fast. a loud blast on the street made Simon wrap an arm around your waist and pull you to the nearest alley, one hand firmly pressing you against his chest and another holding your head, broad shoulders covering your body as the intense blood pump on his ears muffle the deafening ringing rattle. he stays in the position for a while, blown-out pupils frantically darting around and searching for any indication of danger. 

he takes a deep breath and his head dips down to you. for a minute, the only thing he sees is the gash on your forehead and your bleeding eye. you’re paralysed, partially because you’re brain is still catching up on what’s going on, and partially because his tight grip doesn’t admit any movement. 

“Ghost? what’s wrong?” the scared tone of your whisper readjusts his vision to what really is in front of him – you. safe, without a single scratch, tucked in his arms with a strength he hadn’t used to this extent in a long time. and he feels bad, pathetic even, because nothing happened. the blaring sound was a car crash in the avenue, not a grenade destroying everything in sight.

“it’s nothing” he pulls back, averting your eyes like the plague, “i'm sorry.” stupid. 

you frown, overlooking his avoidance with utter sympathy, “are you alright?” he grunts, unintelligibly, reverting to his cold stance and nodding. you don’t buy his half-answer, but decide that it’s better not to pry.

he knew it was coming, the uneasiness brewing in his gut was only waiting for the right trigger to crawl up his oesophagus and spill all over you. 

the rest of the walk is quiet, with him returning to his position a few steps back. never should’ve left. you sneak glances at him, checking, but his gaze seems too far gone. next thing he knows, you’re both on the jet, Daniel snoring in the front seat, him looking out the window, lost in thought. of course i'd fuck up. 

he barely hears when you approach him, trembling fingers handing him a card. the card. you’re trusting him. he glares at you for a second, hazel irises shifting between your spooked appearance and the paper. ‘don’t like you travelling without me, darling. i’ll be waiting for my souvenir  – your prince.’

i've never been to france lol. and yeah i had a monet phase when I was fifteen.

little fun fact - the painting in the fic masterlist is part of his water lilies series.

[angelmichelangelo]

wanted to talk about my favourite scene in my favourite episode because i have a lot of feelings about it so here we go.

so it’s this particular scene in ‘of rats and men’ - anything to do with the rat king and i am there. he’s a really cool villain and i think the added bonus of him using solinher to fight the boys is really interesting but there’s this ONE scene that is always in my head when i rewatch it.

so after we see mikey hide away ice cream kitty we get a little comedic scene with him and his brothers + april and casey until splinter comes in, having just had the rat king invade his mind, he’s clearly unwell and weak, he goes to the freezer for some ice and a cheese sickle to which mikey tells him no and straight up slams the door in his fathers face to keep him from seeing the mutated cat in there.

to which splinter doesn’t take kindly towards.

remember, at this point, it’s not obvious to them that splinter is basically being possesed. he towers over mikey (ik he’s crouching here but the shot is really well done, pulling back to really emphasis how much he towers over these kids) and mikey just looks up in fear. again, splinter’s eyes don’t turn red straight away, he doesn’t show any obvious signs of change so to mikey, he’s suddenly aware of the fact that he’s pissed his dad off big time.

then, splinter strikes him, sending him across the kitchen.

we don’t see it, just a flash of red but it then immediately cuts towards the brothers reactions which again, i find interesting

it’s total shock. usually when one of them is hurt or down, we get angry reactions, something protective. but here they’re not mad. they’re just in utter disbelief that their father has just struck one of their own.

and i know splinters done this many times in the past but that all happens during training. it never occurs just because mikey is being odd. casey (and i know he was still grappling with his fear of rats here) actually recoils at this.

then we get a chase scene. again a little comedic just to lighten the tension but splinter is honing in on mikey. he wants to get to him, ignoring the other five teenagers who are in the room with them.

then we get these shots (the main reason i wanted to talk about this scene)

mikey is pushed against the fridge, exactly where he started. and you obviously can’t tell from screenshots alone but mikey is actually trembling with fear here. he’s hyperventilating and it’s not because he’s out of breath. he’s a trained ninja. he can go far longer than the little lap around the kitchen he’s just done. he’s positively terrified, and it’s not like the kind of fear in “invasion of the squirrelanoids” where he was making quips and making jokes to un-scare himself. this is a new fear because this is his father that is attacking him. he doesn’t even say anything during this moment. he just whimpers. he just trembles in fear until leo calls out to the others to “help him!”

then after splinter is pinned down, the rat king breaks through and we get reaction shots from the rest of the characters as they realise what has happened to their sensei.

i think it’s really sweet that april immediately goes to mikey, putting a protective arm over him. his eyes have shrunk to pinpricks (a neat little trick i really love that they show throughout and show when they’re scared or shocked) mikey doesn’t move or try to get back up, staying down with april it’s a nice moment (also we needed more of this duo! orange coded, blue eyed freckled friends for the win!!)

another little detail i found interesting was that after splinter seemingly goes back to normal everyone rushes to his side. april stands from where she’s crouched down with mikey and leo, raph and donnie are there to help him.

but mikey doesn’t get back up. he stays on the floor, perhaps coming out of his shock. he makes no attempt to reach his dad which.. breaks my heart little actually.

and as much as i love this episode, i really do wish it had some mikey + splinter pay off. we hardly see any moments of them together, especially since each brother gets their share of dad moments where he passes down some sort of wisdom, mikey gets a very brief “love yourself you don’t need to change” lesson in “mikey gets shellacne” and that’s it. we really were robbed of more of these two as father and youngest son. and ik all of them get attacked and scared by possessed splinter at some point but it clearly really affected ooor mikey here after being targeted in this one scene.

anywho. that’s my rant over. if anyone has any additions to this post feel free to add them as i’d be interested to see if anyone else is as crazy about this scene as i am lol

[seeingivy]

award show etiquette

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting fic, masterlist here

content: light mentions of paparazzi/stalking, SMAU!!!! hehehehe, some fun cameos (HEHEHEHE), eren being a jealous little baby, eren and y/n being so corny

an: enjoy :DDD (for some regular readers, play close attention to usernames)

previous part linked here

--

Things change in the next six months. You turn sixteen. Falco and Colt buy you a shiny acoustic guitar as a gift for you to start writing songs like you’ve always wanted. The guitar is nice, but the writing doesn’t go so well. You don’t land any new acting roles for your hiatus, but everyone else does. 

All in all, some parts of your dreams feel real, like you’re standing at the doorstep of everything that you ever wanted. But the setbacks are so debilitating sometimes it feels like you’re wasting your efforts. Plus, your dreams come with their own set of nightmares too. 

Attack on Titan truly does trend overnight - really gaining traction around the fifth episode. Whenever episodes air, almost everyone is on social media talking about it - live tweeting the scenes, commenting on how phenomenal the storyline, the acting, the costumes were, trying to guess what happens next. It was almost like a trend, becoming bigger and bigger by everyone talking about it, pointing out all the little details woven into the story, following the press junkets.

The reception of the show feels like a victory. Levi, Erwin, and Hange get praised on the daily and people fall in love with the cast fast. Despite receiving a horrendous first impression score from The Elms, they officially take away their initial criticisms and give a glowing recommendation of you after the airing of the third episode - going as far as calling you the cast member to watch out for. 

The show gets renewed for three more seasons by the eighth episode and suddenly you’re getting offers for things you have no idea about. You need a publicist, a makeup team, a personal designer, someone to control your social media presence and a manager for your next moves. Even though you're not even at that level.

It’s…taxing. You’re not really sure what you want to do next. You’re only sixteen - there’s only so much childhood left that you can cherish. But they all insist that this traction won’t come back and that you can’t fall off. There’s pressure to deliver, to keep the momentum going. 

You don’t mean to sound ungrateful. This is what you wanted, but it's far off from what you expected. Evey beyond the entire thing being stressful, it changes even the tiniest, miniscule details of your life - one’s you never even recognized as important before.

Because when you go back to school, you’re not sure what’s going on. Your usual friends treat you weirdly, people who had no idea you existed are going on about how you guys have always been great friends, no one talks to you unless it’s Attack on Titan related. And it’s not that you don’t love talking about it, because you do, but it feels weird to share and bring to your tiny little unimportant high school. 

You feel like a shiny, plastic toy, something people ogle in the hallways, but never touch or come near for posterity's sake. 

And when you leave school, there’s a flood of paparazzi waiting for you right outside, snapping pictures of you, Colt, and Falco as you wait on the block. And they follow you all the way home, taking a seat outside your house. You think it’s stalking. And surprisingly enough, the law doesn’t see it that way. 

Meaning you have to put up with the fact that they’re waiting for you every morning, following your moves like little vultures. And you’re not sure what’s so interesting about you checking your mail, but you’re advised against it, and suddenly you can’t. 

You can’t go to the park. Or the grocery store. Or even into your own backyard because in all senses of the word, they are kind of relentless. 

It feels harsh to say, but you feel like a prisoner. Like you’re watching life move on outside of you - kids biking down the pavement, Colt walking to the store, your neighbors mowing the lawn - and you never realized what a luxury mundane things like this were.

To be unknown, a face in a sea of people rather than a deer stuck in headlights, frozen where you are. Because the people you knew don’t see you the same way, and really, you’re not a stranger to anyone anymore. 

It sucks. It’s amazing. You hate it. You love it. The highs and the lows fluctuate so fast that sometimes you feel like you’re a crazy person - teetering from one place to another. Everyone loves your acting, but no one wants to sit with you at school during lunch. The paparazzi stay outside your house almost all day, everyday but you got invited to announce an award at the Savants Show. 

In some way, your feelings feel inherently wrong. Because this is some people’s dream, and it used to be yours too, but really you just want to go to the grocery store with your little brother and buy snacks. You want to talk to your friends at recess, not get asked random questions while you’re shoved into your car. 

Marco visits around the four month mark, after you confide in him that it hasn’t been the greatest. He spends a whole week with your family - teaching Falco how to play Go, Colt teaches him how to do card tricks, and the two of you spend all night talking about anything and everything. And you love him for it. Because really, you’re not the only one going through this. Sure, they were primed for this since they were little, but it’s nice to have someone who understands you by your side. 

And Eren calls you every single night, to the point where you’re both falling asleep on the phone together, his soft breathing lulling you to sleep every night. Some part of you feels guilty confiding in him, since he is on the set of a really big movie he’s filming right now, but he always assuages any guilt you have with his words.

“How was your day, Y/N?” he asks, nestled into a gray hoodie, the smallest tufts of his brown hair peeking out of the hood. 

He’s leaning against his headboard, his forearm resting against his head and his eyes shut closed. Because he’s six hours ahead of you, in Switzerland. And it’s the middle of the night. 

“Is your roommate there?” 

He laughs, his dimples appearing in the glow of the computer light. 

“He’s really mad at us about last night. He told me we need to stop giggling so late so he can get some “beauty sleep” or whatever.” 

“I don’t giggle. He must hate me.” 

“Oh, for sure. But Ry hates everyone.” 

“Rude.”

“I asked a question. How was your day, Y/N?” 

“Ah. It was okay, Eren. Same old.” 

His eyes flutter open and he leans forward, the concern washing over his eyes. And you hate when he does this, because really, it’s worse to have Eren pity you more than anything. 

“Y/N.” 

“Hm?” 

“Six days.” 

You smile, brushing down the ends of your hair. Right. Six days till you and Eren are together again. 

“Yeah. It feels like time passed by really fast.” 

“What are you talking about? It feels like an eternity since I’ve seen you. I’m not even sure what you look like anymore.” 

“Bullshit. You literally FaceTime me every single day, Eren.” 

“Still. It’ll be nice. To see you in person, to not have the Wifi lag because Coco is trying to play Roblox.” 

“He got banned the other day.” 

“For what?” 

“He censored a curse word, but still got banned because it picked it up.” 

“Rookie mistake, Falco. He can have my account if it’s that serious.” 

You both laugh, falling into a comfortable silence, as you stare at each other on the screen. The white light of the screen is doing little to illuminate Eren’s face in the dark room he’s sitting in and really, you can only make out the harsh figures on his face.

The bridge of his nose, the shape of his eyebrows, only one dimple, and his lips. And when he leans back, placing the phone on the side, as he nestles into his pillow, you put Eren to the side, typing away on your computer. When you glance over in a few minutes, he’s fast asleep, only the sounds of his breathing coming out of the phone. 

Six days.  

- 

As far as red carpets go, this has to be a memorable first. You arrive there at six o’clock, which is when the red carpet starts. Meaning the rest of the cast is already out there, getting pictures taken, doing interviews while your cab driver is Tokyo Drifting you through the streets of New York City.

The second you arrive, Mikasa’s styling team throws you into a frenzy. You’re attired into a long, flowing green dress, because the original outfit that you had picked out got lost in the airport debacle. 

Right. You would have been there on time if the universe was actually on your side for once. You were supposed to fly in on Thursday, with the rest of the Attack on Titan cast. You were all going to be staying together in a house near the awards show, so that you guys could get started on table reads this weekend before you start filming again next month. 

Except, your flight got delayed and you didn’t make it in time. And they accidentally lost your luggage in the time in between canceling your flight and scheduling you a new one. Which leaves you in your current dilemma, of walking onto the carpet an hour late. 

Somewhere in the middle of the carpet, a very antsy and anxious Eren Jaeger is doing press interviews. He’s styled in all black and a green tie, meant by his styling team to compliment the color of his eyes. He doesn’t get that entire thing, but does it anyway. 

“Do you have any news you can tell us about the next season of Attack on Titan?” 

Before Eren can respond, he feels a hand clamped over his mouth, Ymir standing behind him with a stern expression on her face. 

“Do not answer that, Eren.” grumbles Ymir, the interviewer laughing at the two of you. 

Eren rolls his eyes as he and Ymir stand side by side, the two of them answering questions from the interviewer. 

“Are you guys really friends outside of the set?” 

“No. Eren Jaeger is insufferable.” responds Ymir, Eren reaching over to smack her cheek as they both laugh. 

“Yes, we’re all really good friends. Some of us more than oth-” 

Ymir’s response is cut off by a loud sound of cheering, all of the photographers on that side of the carpet rushing to the front. And when he leans over the crowd of people to see you at the center, with all these cameras flashing at you, he can feel his heart thumping in his chest and an almost inevitable smile spreading across his face. 

It’s you. It’s really you - in real life and not on a shitty wifi phone screen but only ten feet away from him, looking like the sun. 

The entire thing is overstimulating. There’s almost a dozen camera’s flashing, all at one time. You’re trying your best to smile but all you can hear is clicking, twenty different people saying your name trying to get your attention, and your cheeks burning from keeping your smile in th3 same position as you flick your eyes around. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see it. The tufts of brown hair you have committed to memory. You look to your right to find Eren and Ymir smiling at you, the two of them giving you waves. And you turn back to the crowd, whisper a polite sorry, and run right into Ymir’s arms first. 

“Ymir, I missed you so much.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’d miss me too.” 

You pull back, every unpleasant feeling in your chest accumulating for the past six months lessening at the warmth of someone so familiar, someone you love so much gleaming at you in your arms. Ymir rolls her eyes and pinches your cheek as she walks away, leaving you and Eren standing on the carpet. 

You can feel yourself smiling really big and you try your best to will it down, but the pure anticipation and adrenaline of the event, and Eren Jaeger, really standing in the flesh in front of you, stops any efforts you may have. 

“Hi Eren.” you whisper. 

“Hi Y/N.” he whispers back. 

You lean forward and lock your hands around his neck, to which he crushes you in his hold, the two of you giggling in each other's ears as you hug each other, cheeks slightly flushed. And for the rest of the carpet, you and Eren link arms, taking turns answering the interviewers questions and taking pictures together. 

“Do you guys like each other?” 

“I mean, I sure hope Eren likes me. We are best friends and all.” you respond. 

Eren reaches forward, smacking his palm against your forehead. 

“Shut up. You know I like you.” 

You and Eren feel a sudden weight on your shoulders, and in true menace form, Connie Springer is leaning against both of your frames. He leans forward into the microphone, grinning at the interviewer as he starts talking. 

“Oh, they like each other all right. They have all these little things they do on set that none of us are allowed to do with them. Like oh, you can’t eat ramen with Y/N that’s our thing. Or oh, you can’t get slushies with Eren, we’ve been doing that since we got here.” 

You lean forward and flick Connie on the forehead, as Eren rolls his eyes. 

“Are you jealous, Connie?” you ask. 

“No. I just want some of that bitch ass ramen you guys are always making.” 

Erwin and Levi walk up, the two of them pinching Connie’s cheek as he whines. 

“Language, Springer.” Levi mutters. 

He drops Connie’s ear and places his hand in your hair, giving you a warm smile. Erwin gives you a hearty hug before the two of them walk away, meeting Hange at the end of the carpet. 

You turn back to the interviewer, you and Eren answering final questions before walking away all together. The second you get away from her, Connie’s leaning down, crushing you in a hug and lifting you into the air. 

“I missed you yesterday.” Connie mutters, his breath tickling your ears. 

“I know, I was so sad to miss it. I really missed you guys too.”  You’re not entirely sure why - but Connie, Ymir, Eren, these comforting people after six months of hellscape are enough for the air to get tangled in your throat and the warm tears to start welling in your eyes. 

Connie swings his arm around Eren as he talks, smirking at the two of you. 

“Some of us missed you more than others.” Connie grins, poking Eren’s cheeks. 

“Oh, yeah?” you ask. 

“Eren pouted all day. Looked nearly depressed when he had to eat that measly ramen bowl by himself. Stared at pictures of you on his phone.” 

“I DIDN’T LOOK AT PICTURES OF HER ON MY PHONE.” Eren responds, now yanking Connie by the ear. 

Connie rolls his eyes as he runs off, leaving you and Eren to walk the last part of the red carpet together. 

Right before you make it into the venue, you feel a tugging on your dress, to be met with two kids who must be a few years younger than you, matching smiles on their faces. You and Eren crouch down, taking in their outfits

They’re dressed as you and Eren, from the show. With perfect green capes and a red scarf. Why are they watching your show? Seems a bit gory for their age. 

“Hi. I’m Y/N.” you say, holding out your hand. 

They both excitedly shake, stumbling over their words as they start talking. 

“Hi. I-I love you so much. You-you’re both so cool and we just-we love you so much we-” the girl starts. 

“We made-made you a gift.” the boy continues. 

Eren leans forward, holding his hand out, as he gives the two of them a warm smile. 

“You guys are too kind. Y/N and I really appreciate it, truly.” 

They place two friendship bracelets in your hands, which you and Eren immediately slide onto your hands. You and Eren take the time to give each of them a hug, making sure their parents are able to snap pictures, before you head back inside. 

When you’re inside the safe confines of the theater, you look down at the bracelets. Yours is green and Eren’s is pink. The beads in the middle of yours say “attack on eren” and the beads in the middle of Eren’s say “attack on y/n” - like your matching tag names on Twitter. 

“Hey. They accidentally switched them when they gave it to us. My bracelet says your name.” you say. 

“There’s no way they would give us the wrong ones.” 

“They could have gotten nervous. Why would I wear a bracelet with your name on it when you-” 

“I’m keeping this one.” he says, with a tone so definitive you don’t even want to respond. 

You and Eren hold your wrists out to admire them, the soft beads standing out against your fancy clothes. It’s simple. You love it. 

You reach down and tangle one of your hands with Eren’s. He squeezes three times. You squeeze back. 

And for the first time in six months, you feel at ease. 

- 

“Wait so, explain this to me one more time.” you ask, being met with eleven prepared faces staring back at you. 

“These are the Savant TV show awards. There are other ones for things like movies, music, and plays. Any show that is part of this cycle has to send names in to nominate for each award. Five are selected in each category and then a select group of people in the industry, we call them the Institute, usually vote on winners.” starts Bertholdt. 

“Okay. That makes sense. Is that how they pick triple threats too?” 

Eren’s hand is still locked in yours, hidden under the pleats of your dress. He squeezes three times at the mention of a triple threat and you get the message.

You got this.

“Well, triple threats are different. They’re kind of variable and get announced randomly. Some years you can have a lot of triple threats and some years none. But when they get picked, they announce the three pieces that made them a triple threat. Then they have to do this long and personal interview where they discuss their time in the industry - good, bad, all of it - and at whatever award show is next, they pick one of the three - singing, dancing, or acting - and perform a piece at the end of the show.” explains Annie, fidgeting with the ends of her perfectly curled hair. 

“Do we have any triple threats today?” you ask. 

“No. But besides triple threat performances, there’s also other performers and an ensemble showcase. Have you ever seen one?” asks Armin, leaning forward to pull Annie’s hands down from ruining her hair. 

“No. What’s that?” 

“Basically, each year the Savants pick a show to perform for an ensemble showcase. It’s the cast of the entire show, or just a select portion of it, and they usually perform a dance or sing a song related to the show. This year, it’s the cast of Blue Lock, the soccer show?” responds Armin.

“Yeah, I’ve heard of it.” 

“They’re performing that song Get Your Head in the Game from that movie High School Musical? They’re all going to do a bunch of soccer tricks on stage while they sing the song is what I’ve heard. People usually relate it to the show they’re in some type of way.” says Armin

Before the rest of them can explain more, the lights dim and you focus your head to the front, the show starting. You don’t really recognize the hosts or anyone in the room - which to you is a sign that you really should start paying attention - and you try to focus on what they’re saying. 

They’re cracking jokes about different people in the industry, which Eren explains to you in your ear as they talk. What the jokes mean, who they’re talking about, what shows they’re from. They even crack a joke about you and Eren. 

“The cast of Attack on Titan is here tonight.” 

The statement is met with an array of cheers in the room, and in true Connie and Reiner fashion, they’re both standing up for no reason, bowing to the crowd. That just garners them both a cascading sound of laughter from the audience, which only gets louder when Erwin yanks Connie and Reiner down by the ear. 

“Getting to watch the story unfold, all the twists and turns - it’s almost impossible not to pay attention to such a thrilling story. I’m sure we can’t say the same for our hosting skills, because our sweet leads Y/N and Eren have been whispering in each other's ears the entire time instead of listening to us.” 

The light flashes in yours and Eren’s faces, the two of you with widened expressions as you laugh at everyone staring you down. And when Eren says, sorry what did you say? with a confused tone in his voice, the entire audience laughs and then they move on. 

Somewhere around a third of the way into the show, the usher comes to the seats, whispering in your ear that it’s time for you to come backstage. 

Right. You’re supposed to be presenting an award with another actor. And you totally forgot. 

You turn to your right to look at Eren and before you can even express the panic, he’s already settling you down. Eren Jaeger, mind reader. 

“You’ll be fine. You just have to stand there and present the award. He’s really weird but he’s nice most of the time.” 

"What? I can’t do this, Eren. They’re all going to be staring at me and I don’t even-” 

Mikasa and Bertholdt’s hands are on your shoulder, squeezing twice as the usher leads you along. You turn back to look at Eren, and he gives you a warm smile as you try to focus on the task at hand. 

When you get backstage, everyone is in a frenzy. There are so many different crew members running around - microphones in their ears, sound-checking mics, making sure that the video on the screen stops playing on time. It reminds you of the chaos on set that you like to watch, except this is entirely more nerve-wracking because of the swarm of butterflies in your stomach. 

You tap on the guy closest to you, a boy that can’t be much older than you with pink hair. 

“Hi. I’m supposed to present the award next, do you have any idea who I’m supposed to be presenting with?” 

“Ah. That would be Ryomen Sukuna.” 

“Oh. I’ve never heard of him.” 

He frowns, squinting his eyes at you as you lean forward. You take a second to take him in more closely, his perfectly fitted suit with a black tie. You’re not sure why, but you swear you know him from somewhere. 

“You’ve never heard of him? Ever?” 

You shake your head as he starts laughing, the grin on his face so wide. And before you can ask what’s so funny, they’re pushing you onto stage, the bright lights shining in your face. You scan the crowd for Eren, who mouths it’s okay before you and him start. 

You clear your throat as you turn to the guy, who you now realize is the same pink-haired guy from backstage. 

“Wait. What are you doing here?” 

He laughs - and the entire audience does too - as he turns to you, a devious grin in his eyes. He holds his hand out, which you return, as he introduces himself. 

“Hi Y/N. I’m Ryomen Sukuna.” 

You feel your eyes widen as he lifts your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before he continues. You can feel your mind running in circles as you clutch the envelope in your hand, zoning back in to pay attention to him. 

“You know, you and Eren spend all night giggling, talking about god knows what. Of course, this asshole never mentions me.” 

And then you remember. Pink hair, Ry. Ryomen Sukuna. He’s Eren’s roommate, from the movie he was just filming. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I remember now, you’re Eren’s roommate and-” 

“You’re standing here with me and you’re talking about Eren?” 

“Ah, I-” 

“You keep me up all night by calling Eren and you don’t even know my name. And then I'm trying to have a moment with you and you're talking about another guy?” 

He's doing a bit. Right. Because from what you could tell, almost everyone who presents an award does one. Maybe this is just his. 

“I'm sorry?” 

The entire audience laughs at your words and Sukuna rolls his eyes, saying something about how hard it is to impress girls these days, as he hands you a lollipop. 

“What’s this for?” 

“The people sitting in the front row, Y/N. It’s obviously for you.” he deadpans. 

“Oh, okay that’s kind of weird. Thanks!” 

The audience laughs as you unwrap the lollipop, handing the envelope to Sukuna so you can do it properly.

“It’s about that time. Ready to read the name, Y/N?” 

You nod as you take the lollipop out of your mouth, handing it to Sukuna and you focus on ripping the golden tape on the envelope. Except as you’re opening it, the entire crowd starts laughing and you’re not entirely sure why. 

“Am I that bad at opening this or something?” 

They laugh even more, which makes you turn to Sukuna for reassurance, which is when you see it. Sukuna just put your lollipop in his mouth. Like, the lollipop with your saliva all over it in his mouth. 

“Hey! I was eating that.” 

He pops it out of his mouth and holds it in between you, smirking at you. 

“Want it back, sweetheart?” 

You take it from his hands and shove it back into his mouth - which at this point, the audience is literally screaming at the two of you - as you open up the envelope. And when you read the name and hand the award over, you and Sukuna exit the stage, bickering as you get off. 

“You’re such a weirdo freak. I did want to eat that lollipop.” 

“Then eat it. There’s still some left, sweetheart,” he says, a joking tone present in his voice. 

“You’re so gross. That’s like literally sharing saliva.” 

“We can do that in other ways too if you want.” 

“Ew. Are you always like this?” 

You both laugh as you exit the stage, back into the panic behind the curtains. As people move around you and him, taking mic boxes off, you turn to him. 

“Okay, okay. Let’s start over. I’m Y/N L/N. No more sassing me because I forgot you name.” 

He gives you a glimmering smile, holding his hand out. 

“Okay, okay. Ryomen Sukuna. Call him in the middle of the night and I will do this again.” 

As you both continue talking, a group of people join him at his side, clearly his friends. Another boy with pink hair, who looks literally identical to him, a shorter boy with black spiky hair, and two girls - one with green hair and one with brown. 

They’re all yanking Sukuna by the ears, telling him that he - as always - is doing too much. 

The boy with pink hair turns to you, the look on his face apologetic. 

“He’s always like this. Menacing. We sincerely apologize.” 

You smile, holding your hand out to him as he repeats his name and the rest of them follow suit.. Itadori Yuuji. Megumi Fushiguro. Nobara Kugisaki and Maki Zenin. 

“We’re the cast of Jujutsu Kaisen.” responds Nobara, as she flicks Sukuna on the forehead. 

“Ah. I’m one of the cast members of-”

“Attack on Titan.” they all respond in unison, smiling at you. 

After a few minutes, you’re joined by a group of your own friends - Ymir, Reiner, Marco, and Eren - as well as Levi and a taller man with white hair. 

Marco and Ymir give you warm smiles and squeezes on the shoulder as they congratulate you for doing a good job, saying that the reception was really funny and that you and Sukuna are trending on Twitter. Eren's uncharacteristically silent, brooding in the corner. Before you can mention it, Sukuna beats you to it. 

“Eren. Do you need to take a shit?” says Sukuna, leaning forward to smile at him. 

“What?” Eren responds. 

“You look agitated as fuck. Like you have to take a shit.” 

Ymir and Reiner laugh, poking Eren’s cheeks and teasing him, as you move to the side, paying attention to Levi’s conversation. 

“All they do is cuss. I need to start actually punishing them or they’re going to end up cursing like sailors in a few years.” 

“Tell me about it, Satoru. Jean is actually horrible, I will genuinely wash his mouth out with soap the next time he says fuck near me.” 

Satoru. Satoru Gojo. You may not know many celebrities, but you sure know this one. 

He’s a triple threat. 

“When I got cast on a show with a bunch of kids, I didn’t realize I was going to become a father.” sighs Satoru, grinning at the group of them as he talks. 

“You’re not our father.” the group of them respond, breaking from their own conversations to shoot him down. 

Levi laughs as he looks down at you, placing a hand in your hair as you join their conversation. Satoru crouches down to your height, smiling at you as he talks. 

“Good job. That was real funny, kid.” 

“Thank you so much.” 

“Are you as rude to Levi as my kids are to me?” Satoru asks. 

“We’re not your kids.” respond Megumi and Nobara, breaking from their conversation again. 

“He does kind of remind me of my dad! He always gives good advice on set and helps me and-” 

Levi crouches down, glaring at you. 

“I’m not your dad.” 

“Yes you are.” 

“No, I’m not.” 

Marco and Reiner walk over, holding onto Levi’s arms as they respond. 

“Yes, you are.” 

You all turn your heads to Satoru, who is now pouting. 

“They cast the wrong kids in my show. Mine are so ungrateful,” he says, leaning down to pinch Megumi’s ear, which he just returns by literally smacking Satoru off. 

You all laugh as you get directed back into your seats, as it’s time to present the next award. You wave them all goodbyes as you start walking in line with Eren, who you now realize you hadn’t talked to the entire time. His jaw is locked, an implacable look in his face. You reach down and tangle your hand with his, to which he finally looks over at you. 

“Hey. Was it okay?” 

He stops in his tracks, letting Ymir, Marco, and Reiner walk forward, as you stand in the outskirts of the curtain. 

“It was good, Y/N. Really good.” he sighs. 

“So why are you upset?” 

He frowns as he looks over at you, his mouth in a straight line. 

“It’s stupid.” 

“No it’s not, Eren. Just tell me!” 

“Imannoyedhekissedyourhand” he murmurs quickly, under his breath. 

“Sorry, what was that? It’s kind of loud in here.” 

“igotjealousseeingyouguysupthere.” he murmurs again, his cheeks turning red. 

You lean completely into his space, looking straight into his green eyes. 

“Sorry, Eren. One more time, yeah?” 

“I’m annoyed he kissed your hand! It made me jealous because that should have been me and not him and he’s just doing that because I-” 

Before he can finish, you start laughing, which stops Eren in his tracks and now he’s glaring at you. 

“Quit making fun of me, Y/N.”

“I’m not! It’s just so cute, Eren. You’re so-” 

“I’m glad you find my personal torture cute, Y/N.” 

“Personal torture? Did you get more dramatic from the last time I saw you?” 

“Imagine being me. I just watched an idiot, a real life blathering idiot like Sukuna, kiss your hand before I got to do it. And I was sitting next to Connie too. That’s so annoying and now everyone is going to make fun of me and-” 

And now you get it. He’s…jealous. Of Sukuna. From what Itadori and Maki told you, Sukuna’s kind of infamous for being a cheeky little shit, going about things as he pleases. And Eren’s feeling possessive because you’re best friends. Connie being a little bitch probably didn’t help matters either. 

You’re not sure where you garner up this uncharacteristic courage or boldness from, but you hold out your left hand to Eren.

“What? Trying to rub it in my face now? You’re worse than Ymir.” 

“No, no. Sukuna kissed my right hand. But he didn’t kiss my left, so you can just do it now.” 

You watch his eyes widen and his face turn positively red as he starts blabbering, awkwardly pushing his hands through his hair and teetering on his heels.

“Huh? What? You can’t just- you’re just saying that. This is weird. You’re-you? What? I can’t like- oh my god. What the-” 

You place one of your hands on his shoulder as you look at him, trying to muster the sweetest smile you can. 

“Eren. Please?” 

The ask makes him give in and he shakily places his hand in yours, lifting your knuckles against his mouth as he places a soft kiss in between your second and third knuckle. And when you smile at him again, positively gleaming, Eren curses your existence. He hates you for making him feel like this. 

“Screw you, Y/N.” 

“What? What happened now?” 

"You. You’re annoying.” 

You roll your eyes as you and Eren walk back to your seats, hands locked together and already met with a barrage of insults from Sasha and Annie. They’re pinching Eren’s cheeks, mimicking Sukuna taking your lollipop, the rest of them all teasing him. 

But when you look over and smile at Eren, which he returns, you both focus your heads back on the show, the speakers talking. And when Eren drives away at the end of the night, you hold onto the feeling. 

Just one more month until you’re back together. All of you, for real.

--

next chapter linked here

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[bunnypansy]

NSFW Alphabet: Pantalone!

Rated R for EXPLICIT CONTENT!

A short script about the ABCs of The Regrator's sex life!

Featuring: Pantalone, and you!

Beware! This film contains: sexual content (duh), objectification, humiliation, financial domination, pet play, submission, handcuffs, spit kink, orgasm denial, edging, dacryphilia, mild degradation

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Perfect. Really! While the richest harbinger, Pantalone does not strike me as the lazy type. He’s not going to pawn off the aftercare on any staff, he’d rather do it himself. Pantalone goes through the same steps every time; he quickly cleans himself up, then gently wipes up the majority of your… fluids. He’ll run you both a nice bath- and you KNOW the Regrator has a giant, beautiful bathtub. Of course, Pantalone will clean you up with the highest quality soap, and when you’re done, he’ll moisturize you from head to toe! No need to stay awake, Pantalone doesn’t mind if you doze off. While he’s mostly hands on, he’ll have staff swap out the messy sheets before he lays you down to rest. Most likely, he’ll hold you close while you fall asleep and he reads.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Your skin overall, which yeah, I know sounds weird, but walk with me. He loves your soft, smooth skin that’s perfect for bruising, kissing, biting; so pretty and delicate. Even in nonsexual moments, Pantalone likes to run his fingers over your skin and trace patterns, just for funsies. Like most of his things, he’ll do his best to make you take care of your beautiful skin. Also lips, beautiful, soft, pink lips just get him hard immediately; wear lip gloss and he’ll fall apart.

It’s not hard to see that Pantalone takes incredible care of his hair. He spends an immeasurable amount of time fussing over it, with a detailed washing schedule and care instructions. He spends much of his morning routine brushing, and styling his hair; if you feel like playing with it or styling it, feel free- but NEVER pull on his hair. EVER.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Pantalone takes impeccable care of himself, he’s well hydrated and keeps a good diet, so his cum is a clear, almost pearly color. It’s textured a lot like syrup and has almost no taste except for a faint saltiness- you’re not really sure how he makes his cum that flavorless. Pantalone doesn’t cum very much, it’s a bit disappointing but I’ll let you in on a little secret; if you squeeze his balls a lil bit you can make him squirt, and if you feel like putting in the effort, keep milking his cock after he starts cumming and he’ll cum even more. Please draw out his orgasm!!! Pantalone prefers cumming in your mouth, on your face or on your tummy- he’s not fond of trying to scoop his cum out of you later, too messy. Besides, don’t you just look beautiful with his cum on your face? Of course you do.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He wants to try butt stuff. Huh? No no, not on you. (:

Okay fine I'll elaborate. I don't think he's experimented with anal on his own, he simply has a curiosity that he wants to sate. After sometime, Pantalone might bring up the subject, as casually as one might talk about the weather over morning tea. He actually wants to start rather vanilla with this, a bit of fingering, some gentler sex. After getting a small taste for subbing, he might let you do a few other things to him (cough cough sounding)

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Fairly? I don’t think he’s all that experienced when it comes to sustained relationships, he's very busy and not opposed to hiring sex workers! Everyone has needs, and he is happy to pay for services he deems necessary, as long as he’s satisfied with the result. In short; intimate experience? No. Casual experience? Yes.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

Pantalone is usually fucking on the go (read: in his office), so he usually goes for the classic bending over desk. If he’s in the office, he’ll press your chest down the desktop and take you from behind, usually with his fingers in your mouth to pull you back and hold your jaw open. For a long while, he'll probably do this in the bedroom for a while too, bending you over the edge of the bed instead; but once he gets more accustomed to intimacy, I think he'll switch to missionary. Call it vanilla, but he likes being able to see your face, your expressions really heighten the experience for him.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

I wouldn't call it humorous, so much as mocking. He's not laughing with you, he's laughing at you. Pantalone likes humiliating you in little ways, squishing your tear-stained cheeks together and calling you a crybaby, then laughing at you. If you try to tease him back however, he'll brush it off and somehow turn it back onto you. He's mean? Awww, but you like it don't you? Mean perv.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Pantalone strikes me as the sort of man who just. Full body waxes. Not hair to be found on this man. Which is a damn shame cus he's got some of the most beautiful hair I've ever seen, so silky and soft… no he won't stop waxing even if you beg. Sorry sports fans, your hairy man is in another castle.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

When Pantalone was younger, (shallow) people weren’t exactly interested in him, now he’s just too busy with work to bother forming a relationship with others, so he's used to transactional sex. He's probably going to remain rather distant for a while; you will have to have a conversation about it for sure. Pantalone will take your criticism into consideration very easily, he wants you both to enjoy your time after all, then change his behavior for you. It's going to be an awkward change at first, and he'll engage in a lot of pillow talk to go over what was good and what needs improvement, but Pantalone will be nothing but agreeable.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Why would he attempt to satisfy himself with his hands when he could just pay for an escort? Truly, Pantalone doesn't see the need and doesn't get horny enough to crank the ol' hog. But I am nothing if not a kind God! So I'll write this for you anyway.

Unlike with sex, Pantalone will not want to mastrubate in his office, it's too vulnerable and he finds it a bit embarrassing. He is definitely the type of guy to take it slowly, slow strokes over his shaft and rubbing his thumb over his tip, then a good squeeze around the base. Pantalone stays quiet most of the time, just barely panting as he touches himself.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Humiliation: Pantalone loves to feel superior, full stop. As long as you give consent, Pantalone likes to keep you naked in his office, sitting on his desk or the floor like an ornament. His favorite thing to do is keep you bound in a corner, stuffed full of toys for anyone to see, but only him to touch.

Financial domination: He likes being the one with all the money in the relationship. A little part of himself thinks you'll only like him as long as he's rich, so flaunting his wealth to you is a turn on. It's also relieving to him that you're dependent, so that way, you can never leave. Pantalone loves most to dress you up in fineries, then tear it all off in the heat of the moment, just to prove how little those things mean to him.

Mild pet play: dragging you around on a leash is one of Pantalone's greatest pleasures. He likes feeling as if he owns you, calling you pet, giving you orders. Pantalone is definitely the type to buy you a very fancy collar with real jewels on it, then use it as a handle while you fuck. If he's going to have any pet, it'll be a puppy, he's interested in the absolute obedience dogs have.

Submission: Pantalone does not put up with brats, hands down. He desires complete and utter obedience from you in the bedroom, you can either comply or miss out on your dick appointment. Brat taming? In this economy?

Handcuffs: While I don't feel Pantalone likes full body bondage (he likes to feel you struggle against him), he appreciates handcuffs or general hand bondage. It's a good way to yank you around and make sure you don't pull his hair out. His personal favorite is to bind your hands, then make you sit on his lap with your arms around his neck.

Spit: I can't say I have strong reasoning for this, it's just a gut feeling. It's something about spitting in your mouth and making you swallow it that makes the possessive part of him flare up.

Objectification: I mean really, is anyone surprised? This man fully believes he can buy anything, including you. He owns you, and he's not going to act otherwise. Sometimes, if he's had a stressful night, he'll just lube you up and fuck you like a fleshlight, and he's not afraid call you such things either. "Pet", "toy", and "doll" are some of his favorite things to call you.

Orgasm denial/Edging (they go hand in hand for this man): This follows closely with his objectification kink- oh you wanna cum? No, no, no, pet. Fleshlights don't need to cum do they? Ah- they don't talk, either. Watching you squirm and cry for him strokes his ego greatly, and he's not afraid to make you beg.

Dacryphilia: You look. So pretty. When you cry. Your lips trembling, your eyes glittering with tears, eyes and nose reddened, cheeks wet- and at his hand? Even better. Of course, Pantalone cares too much about you to enjoy when you're simply miserable, but when he edges you to tears? Nothing better.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Pantalone is a rather private man, he'll want to stick to his two safe spaces; your bedroom and his office. Of course, the bedroom is your house, but he claims that no one can argue with what he does in the privacy of his own office, especially if someone forgets to knock- not like he'd stop either way. Public bathrooms or secluded alleys are beneath him, while fucking on couches or in showers is just too much of a hassle.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

What Pantalone REALLY wants out of this, is to feel like he owns you. He wants to know that you belong to him, that you are dependent upon him, and that he controls you; it's almost a comfort to him. If Pantalone holds all the control between the two of you, then it is utterly up to him whether you stay or go.

However, Pantalone will spend every waking moment reminding you why you should stay, and this applies to the bedroom as well. He wants to hear you cry out, feel you squirm, watch you cry; a reminder that he is the best man you will ever have.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Piss. I wouldn't call this particularly controversial, only a bit disappointing for the little pee-pee boys in the crowd (it's me I'm pee-pee boys). He doesn't like much of any kink that creates smell and a mess, it's just too much of a hassle to clean up and isn't worth it to him.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

For such a greedy man, Pantalone is a giver!!!! He doesn't care for receiving oral- it's fine -but why would he waste his time on fucking your mouth when he can be inside you? He much prefers the reactions he gets from eating you out or sucking you off. Considering this a bonus to the favorite position category, but when giving oral Pantalone has two favorite positions; letting you lay back and grabbing your hips to lift you to his mouth, or placing you on his lap upside down so your knees rest on his shoulders.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Pantalone keeps his pace moderate, focusing on making his thrusts deep and hard instead. He'll grab your waist and roll his hips against yours, aiming for all your sensitive spots with long, deep strokes. Of course, Pantalone's pace becomes a bit erratic when he's closer to cumming, speeding up then slowing to crawl- you know he's really at the edge when he starts pounding you as hard and fast as you can.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

No. Sorry guys. Pantalone wants to take his time with you and isn't going to settle for an ultimately dissatisfying quickie, he won't apologize either. Good things come to those who wait, don't they?

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

If you wanna try something new, Pantalone is happy to agree, most times he won't say no; though he might show hesitation if you ask him to harm you. You'll have to tell him in advance so he can properly research the kink and how to enact the fantasy safely, and even before you have sex he'll probably warn you that he's going to try something new.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

My guy is a one and done kind of man, squirt then skirt if you will. So yeah, unfortunately you're only getting a single round out of Pantalone, but that round can last about as long as you like- and perhaps longer. A session with Pantalone can last from one hour up to three, and he won't let himself cum once until you cum at least twice, so there are no worries of being left unsatisfied.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Yes! Absolutely! Nipple clamps, a couple bullet vibrators, a wand vibrator, vary sizes of plugs, beads and dildos, an O-ring gag, spreader bars- though he only uses those last two if you're being shy with him. For afab partners he also owns a rosebud vibrator, and for the amabs he owns sounding rods and cock rings. Mostly the toys are for you, but with a bit of encouragement you might be able to coax him into using a few on himself. After a fair bit of experimentation, Pantalone finds himself in favor of wearing a cock ring and nipple clamps while fucking you… you might get him to warm up to a bit of sounding.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

If Pantalone isn't a tease, then I don't know who is. He takes great pleasure in riling you up, then denying you sex entirely, not even allowing you to touch yourself; a test of your obedience. God forbid you break his rules and get caught using any toys on yourself- and you will get caught -Pantalone will spend hours punishing you for disobedience. You'll find yourself handcuffed and stuck in spreader bars, the largest dildo of Pantalone's collection stuffed into your hole. Your lover shows no kindness, grabbing the base of the toy and ramming it in and out as fast and hard as he can, but stopping right before you cum and waiting however long it takes for you to calm down. This will go on for hours until you're sobbing, begging for forgiveness and wailing your apologies. So yeah. Pantalone is far from fair.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

A few whimpers, mostly panting, maybe grunt here or there; While Pantalone may not be much of a moaner, he certainly is a chatterbox! He'll go on and on with you, muttering praise and degradation, fully expecting a response from you (how unrealistic, sir). He gets even worse when he gets closer to his orgasm; Pantalone's words break up with moans and become less coherent, but he still forces them out as fast as he possibly can, until he's stuttering forward a slew of curses at a near shout. Cutie <3

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

The male boob lovers in the crowd are going to like this one- I believe with my entire heart that my double D malewife has sensitive nipples, his left one pierced. They're naturally puffy and pink, and they turn all red and swollen when you play with them. Unfortunately, Pantalone isn't going to give you much of a chance to toy with his chest, so when do you get boob time? One of the few times he subs, that's when. He's not going to argue if you pinch and pull on his nipples in the middle of easing your way inside of him, Pantalone is going to whimper. Enjoy this power, and use it wisely.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

This man is vice president of the pretty penis club (I'll elaborate on the prez in a later post). He sits around 5.7-ish flaccid and an easy 6 when he's hard, a skinny penis haver but it's okay because I love him. He only really has one prominent vein that trails from the underside of his shaft then wraps around to the front side, just beneath his tip. Speaking of his tip!! It's a beautiful shade of pink that reddens when he gets hard, and drips soooo much pre. He's got a slight upward curve and when he's very hard, his dick nearly touches his abdomen.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Pantalone has a relatively low sex drive, really only feeling the need for sex every two to three weeks, however! He has no problem going at it more often if you so desire, if anything he likes how dependent upon him you are, please, ask for more.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Sleep?? After sex??? Pantalone could never. If anything, a good session clears his head and calms him down. He's more than likely to grab a lapdesk and do some paperwork while you're dozing off, but if it's really late or you went for a particularly long round he might just read at your side or even talk you to sleep.

That's the end of our showing for today, and as always, thank you for attending!

You can really REALLY smell the favoritism on this one, I'm very very in love with Pantalone and I wanna kith him.

[bvtbxtch]

White Knuckles and Red Hearts | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

a cute little (I don't know what this work means, the fic is 3.9k words) oneshot for valentines day <3 IT STILL COUNTS BECAUSE ITS FEBRUARY

You had been paired together in Home Ec. You were making eclairs. Everyone else in your class sneered at him, hoping - praying - that they wouldn’t have to be in the same workspace as the freak of Hawkins High. Sure, you didn’t jump for joy when you met him in your designated kitchen space, but you gave him a warm smile and introduced yourself. From that moment on, your name rang through his mind like church bells. His hands shook when the two of you measured ingredients, but you quickly put him at ease with your effortless friendliness.

“So, eclairs huh… have you ever made them before?” You smiled over the metal bowl filled with various dry ingredients. 

“Ahh, can’t say I’ve had the pleasure. Don’t find a lot of fancy baking in the trailer park. But I did spend about 10 minutes in a French class before I was kicked out so I do know that it’s french.” Eddie jousted back with a dry laugh. 

“That’s where I knew you from! Your face looked so familiar to me!” You giggled. Eddie’s cheeks bloomed a glowing red. Your smile grew and you peeled your eyes away from him to form your choux. 

“You know, in French eclair means flash.” You babbled. Eddie could see your cheeks were turning a darker pink than the rouge already donning your apples. Eddie wanted to listen to you talk forever. “They say it’s because the glaze on the top of them… or because people eat them so quickly, they’re gone in a flash!” You both looked up and locked eyes. You suddenly felt shy. Stupid under the glow of the big brown doe eyes peering down at you. How the hell did anyone think that this person in front of you was a freak, was dangerous, wasn’t worth friends?

“Sorry, I’m babbling now.” You turned away to begin whipping cream while Eddie had begun to boil water.

“No, no! Babble away! You have interesting stories.” Eddie praised. 

The rest of the afternoon flew by as the two of you laughed, stole spoonfuls of chocolate, and filled your delicate pastries with sweet cream. The bell dismissing the students from their last period of the day startled the two of you out of your dream world. You handed Eddie the last bowl that needed to be put away and wiped your wet hands on your jeans. 

“Well, thanks for being a great home ec partner, Eddie. If we get to pick our people next time, we should work together again.” You smiled and squeezed his shoulder as you breezed past him to grab your backpack. You flashed him another smile and waved at the door. Eddie felt his knees buckle. You were beautiful; Eddie had noticed you at the beginning of the semester, in awe of how simple and easy you made beauty look. You weren’t popular by any means, but as a member of the drama club, you had a great group of friends. Eddie couldn’t imagine why you would want anything to do with him.

DnD wasn’t the same; Eddie’s mind was not fully immersed in the world he had created. Usually charismatic and intense, he was tripping on words, forgetting important details he had set up last session. His mind was transfixed on you. God, he felt pathetic. You were the first girl that wasn’t in Hellfire or wasn’t trying to get free weed from him to be nice to you. Was that all this was? Was he that pathetic that he was going to fall in love with any girl who was nice to him? Surely not. You were different. Not every girl had glowing eyes like you did; nor did they have such a friendly smile, and the slightest dusting of freckles across their cheeks like yours. They didn’t genuinely laugh at his jokes or touched his arm like you did. You weren’t petty or rude or hung out with him as a joke or-

“Dude!” A squeaky voice rang out, interrupting his daydreams of your interactions. “I rolled a 16 does that hit or not?!” Dustin Henderson was not a patient person on a normal day, but now, the third time he had to snap Eddie out of whatever coma he was in, he was rapidly growing angrier by the second.

“Uh- yeah.. How many hit points does it take?” Eddie mumbled. 

Within 25 minutes, the whole Hellfire party had surrendered to their DM, ending the session 40 minutes before their scheduled end. With a frustrated huff, the gaggle of high schoolers exited the stuffy prop room and into the dim hallways. 

February rain was not uncommon in Hawkins. It had caught you off guard though. In typical midwest fashion, the morning had started out mild and sunny. Now, at 5:45 when you were attempting to flee the grip of Hawkins High and make the 10 minute walk to the comfort of your own home, you were met with sleet and rain. You paused at the thick glass doors keeping you warm and dry and let out a long sigh that clouded the vision in front of you. You shrugged your shoulders and pushed through the doors into the cold, wet parking lot. You were kept warm by the thought of seeing an outlandish metalhead in the morning. You had to admit, you had been scared by Eddie Munson. His hard shell deterred many people away, but when you were given the opportunity to get to know him today, you penetrated right through to his soft center. You had to stay after school to direct for the one act festival next month, but like Eddie, your mind was transfixed on your home ec partner. You replayed your conversations in your head as you headed to the main street that dissected the community of little houses and the high school field. You shivered into your jean jacket, cursing the fact that your fashion choices weren’t practical at all for a rainstorm in February. Your eyes stayed glued to the pavement in fear that your face would freeze solid if you looked against the wind. Your hair stuck to the sides of your cheeks. You moved your legs as fast as they would carry you.

Eddie jogged out to his van, now covered in frosted rain drops. The short jaunt already had made his hair heavy with moisture and left a shiver in his spine. His engine lazily sputtered to life and he tore out of the school’s parking lot. He couldn’t wait to get home to pick up his guitar and write you forbidden love songs you would never hear. His headlights pelted through the thick, icy rain. God it was miserable. As he rounded the corner of yet another sleepy avenue, he slowed his van and pulled to the side of the road. He rubbed his eyes in disbelief as he stared at your hunched over figure fighting through the storm (and very obviously losing). He pulled his rusted van over to the sidewalk just ahead of where you were trudging. You stopped and squinted towards the rusty Chevrolet Astro and the curly haired driver that was looking at you with his beautiful, yet worried, eyes. You could see Eddie’s tongue poke out of his mouth as he reached over to the passenger side of his van to unlatch the door. 

“Hey, Y/N! Are you okay?” The boy had to yell to be heard over the pelting rain and the rattle of his exhaust pipe. “Do you need a lift?”

Your heartbeat quickened and your cheeks grew warm. You smiled at him sweetly. “It’s okay, Eddie. It's only a few more blocks to my house.”

“Are you sure? It’s terrible outside. I really don’t mind!” You paused in contemplation. Did you know Eddie well enough to get into his van? Most of your friends would say no, but you felt like you’d known him for a long time. You felt safe around him. So you shrugged your shoulders and hopped into his van with a small ‘thank you’ leaving your lips. A sudden wave of bashfulness hit you after you gave Eddie approximate direction to your house. 

“I-I usually just walk, you know? It was so nice this morning, but…” you ended in a curt giggle, and you couldn’t help but shake your head in embarrassment. It made Eddie’s dimples sprout on each of his cheeks, like you had seen for the first time this afternoon. 

“Well a pretty girl like you shouldn’t be walking at all! Let alone in weather like this!” Fuck. His lips moved before his brain could catch up and stop him. His eyes grew double in size and it was his turn for his cheeks to turn a bold red. “Sorry I didn’t mean- I mean-”

“It's okay Eddie.” You turned your head away from him to stifle your grin. “I appreciate the ride”

It felt like no time before Eddie pulled up to your house.

“Thank you again, so much for the ride. That was so sweet of you.” That damned shoulder touch again. The warmth from the hand around his jean jacketed shoulder sent molten lava straight to his heart. 

“Hey,” he choked. He ravaged his cluttered console for an old napkin and a sharpie. He hastily scribbled his digits on the napkin and shoved it towards you, eyes glued to his knees. 

“Here, take this, just in case you get caught in this shit weather again.” He didn’t feel your fingers take the paper. He peered up at you, cheeks bright red and brown eyes bright with rejection already. “You know, I just-I don’t mind driving you, you know? It’s strictly just-” He was interrupted by your soft hand around his wrist.

“Eddie” you cooed as you took the wrinkled paper from his hand. “You are the sweetest. Of course I’ll take it. I really appreciate it.” Your eyes locked with him and you felt electricity surge from him to you. You released your grip with a blush and backed away from his van.

“Maybe I can call you about some home ec homework too?” Eddie thought his chest was going to burst out of his chest. 

“Y-yeah, doll. That would be great.”

He watched to make sure you got into your house, and left only when you flashed him a smile and wave from your door. He drove home smitten, still smelling your perfume, feeling your warmth from the empty seat beside him. Blissful giggles escaped his lips. 

-

The shrill ring of the telephone startled Eddie out of his daze and brushed through the cloud in his room to the hallway. He picked up the phone and answered with a lazy ‘hey’. His throat closed when he heard your voice peep on the other end of the line. \

“Hey, Eddie. I-is this a bad time?” Yes. Eddie thought. He was just starting to feel his buzz, now he felt like he was going to have a heart attack.

“No! No not at all! What’s up, Y/N?” His baritone voice went straight to the butterflies in your stomach. You took a deep breath to ground yourself. You could hardly believe what he was doing to you. Yesterday, Eddie was a stranger to you, someone that was interesting to look at, but you hadn’t dared interact with him - he was too cool for you. 

“I-I’m so sorry to ask this… but I think I left my history textbook in your van from this afternoon. I am so sorry but is there any way I can come pick it up or you could-”

“Oh! Yeah I will bring it to you, no problem!” Eddie choked. Your stomach sank in excitement.

“Oh, great, thank you so much!”

“I’ll be there in 10” Eddie hung up the phone before you could let out another apologetic thank you. You bit at your nails in selfish excitement. 

Eddie raced through the darkening streets of Hawkins. He remembered where you lived like the back of his hand: past the school three blocks, to the left, then take a right and you were almost at the end of the street. Luckily the storm  His headlights pulled up to the sidewalk in front of your house, like he did earlier that afternoon. To his surprise, he saw the upstairs window on the second floor illuminated with your excited figure. You sheepishly slid the window open and crawled through it and shimmied down the ivied siding. You trotted up to Eddie’s unrolled passenger window. 

“Hey, Eddie. Thank you so much!”

“No problem. Front door broken?” Eddie chuckled. 

“Nah, strict parents make for sneaky kids.” You wagged your eyebrows at him. You boldly opened his passenger door and snaked into the seat. Eddie’s cheeks grew warm with yours as your bodies were now closer (but not as close as you both craved). He sheepishly handed you your textbook, which you pulled to your chest.

“Thanks, Eddie.” you peeped. A sudden burst of courage hit you, and although your hands felt numb, you took a breath and let the words escape your mouth. “I need to tell you, I don’t think that you’re crazy and weird like people say.” You dared to look into his soft, dark eyes. “I think you’re really sweet, and funny. And it really sucks that Hawkins is too small minded to see how great you are.” You leaned over and gave him a sweet peck on the cheek before hopping out of the passenger seat. Eddie wanted to pull you back to him, to grab your face and press his lips to yours; but he was frozen in shock. He would have never imagined you ever wanting to talk to him again, let alone thinking he was a good guy AND pressing your perfect pout to his cheek?

“Thank you again, Eddie, for driving all the way over here. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He mustered up the strength to break out of his daze. “Yeah, doll. I’ll see you then”

With silent smiles, Eddie watched you retreat back up the siding of your house back through your window, pausing to look back at him. 

Eddie drove home with a smile plastered to his face. 

-

The second week of February was filled with stolen glances in the busy hallways of Hawkins High. Your home economics classes flew by, papers being graffitied with notes and doodles passed between the two of you. Your dreams were filled with Eddie. Every second or third comment to your regular grouping of lunch buddies was something that the metalhead said or did or comments that reminded you of him; But you didn’t dare disturb him and his gaggle of Hellfire-clad freshmen; just like he knew he would warrant a death wish by coming to speak to you and your friends. So, you kept your little slice of heaven to blushing smiles, secret notes, and your home ec class.

When the two of you both found yourselves at school late (which both of you were finding more excuses, Eddie would offer to drive you home. You would sheepishly follow him through the parking lot and take (what Eddie will now permanently hope is) your spot in his rusty van. You were scared to admit it to Eddie, but it was easy for your own revelation: Eddie was very quickly becoming your comfort person.

February 14th was usually a day that reaffirmed that Eddie was destined for a life of loneliness in Hawkins, Indiana. Until, he pried open his overfull locker and was greeted with a small green note with his name neatly printed on it. 

“Eddie. Thank you for being such a great person to be around. I hope you have a great day - just like the rest. You deserve them.”

Under the message, your name sat with a small heart scribbled next to it. Eddie’s cheeks burnt a furious red. His big brown eyes scanned the hallway desperately, hoping to spot your bouncy curls, or hear your infectious laugh; but to no avail. He trudged through the halls. He strode up to Chrissy Cunningham and her gaggle of cheerleaders - your normal crowd.

“Hey Chrissy.”

“Oh- uh, Eddie?” The metalhead could tell that he had caught the girl off guard.

“Sorry, don’t mean to bother you in your natural habitat” the girls shifted uneasily. “But do you know where Y/N is? I need to talk to her… about home ec homework.” He wavered over his lie, and Chrissy caught the note grasped tightly in his hand. 

“I haven’t seen her yet today.” The girl gave a polite but curt answer. The group dissipated, but Chrissy offered a light touch on his shoulder. “When I see her, I’ll let her know you need to talk to her.” With her words ringing in his ear, and the shrill warning of the morning bell, Eddie was alone in the hallway with his lovestruck mind. He decided to do what he did every time he was in crisis: go to the bleachers and make himself forget about all the shit that was worrying him. He spent the morning outside, but by the end of the day Eddie had spent his time either thinking about you, or tracing every inch of the school looking for you.

You had stayed home, school feeling less than ideal today. You had stuffed the note in Eddie’s locker at the end of the day - opting to stay even later than he did and walked yourself home. You didn’t sleep all night, and could barely get any food down today. Would he understand? You were only bold enough to make a move in subtleties. Would he care? 

Eddie gripped his steering wheel with white knuckles. It was a drive that he wished was both over already and would never end. It was a short drive to your house from Forest Hills Trailer Park. Eddie had called Hellfire off and beelined out of the school when he found out you hadn’t shown up at all. He felt he had paced a trench in his bedroom floor debating whether or not he should go to your house. What if the letter was a mistake? Or if you were only reaffirming you only liked him as a friend? When the clock hit 9:30pm, he couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed his keys from the hook by the door and trotted down the concrete steps. When the van rumbled to a start, he turned the radio fully off, too tempted to be absorbed in his own thoughts. The streetlights of your neighborhood illuminated the small red heart box and the humble bouquet of roses that sat where you normally did. Eddie chewed on his lip so hard he thought he tasted blood. His brakes squealed to a halt on the sidewalk outside of your tidy little house. He had hoped that the light in your bedroom would be off, so he could wimp out and go home and hide in his bed forever. But his heart skipped an excited beat when he saw the light in the window you had crawled out of a week ago was on, and it illuminated your figure moving through your room.His breath caught in his throat as he turned the key in his ignition and grabbed his wares to begin his journey up the ivy siding to your window. 

-

You had hid yourself away in your room - cassettes, VCRs and books being your welcome distraction from your anxious heart. A tap on your window pulled you from Madonna’s breathy whines about living in a material world. Your heart dropped to your knees when you saw a mop of dark ringlets framing an alabaster face. Eddie’s eyes were wider than you have ever seen them, but filled with an unreadable haze. You rushed to the window and let the boy fall into your room. He straightened himself up with a nervous smile, you returned the sentiment. His hands stayed fixed behind his long body. He shifted his weight, but couldn’t help but inch closer to you as well. 

“Hey” he peeped

“Hi, Eddie. What are you-”

“I-uh. I got your note.”

Your breath hitched and it was your turn to shift your weight. The spot on your carpet was suddenly too tempting to look at than Eddie’s face. His hands obscured his vision. In them you saw a small red box, and flowers. You looked up at Eddie with confused excitement; his face was warm, cheeks blushing. 

“I looked for you all day at school today because I wanted to ask you if you’d be my-”

Before he could finish his sentence, you threw yourself into his arms. Your cheek could feel the pounding in his chest and he stood in shock. 

“Of course I will, Eddie.” You breathed into him. You pulled yourself away from him and took the flowers from his hand. You placed them on your desk with a giggle. You turned to see the open box that Eddie had in his hand. In it laid a small chain with a pink and purple guitar pick. You gasped in awe and your eyes filled with tears. 

“I thought, since I have one-” he pulled a red and black pick on a chain out of his Dio tee. “We could kind of match.” Eddie’s voice shook. His cheeks matched the red on his own necklace. You pulled him to you and pecked your plumped lips against his cheek. Eddie chuckled as he spun you to put your new favorite piece of jewelry on you. Eddie clasped the metal and ran his hands down your arms. 

“Let me take you on a date, please?” He whispered. His hands sent shivers throughout your body. His lips pursed on the top of your head and you wished you could stay in this moment forever. You turned in his arms and draped yourself around his neck. His arms migrated from your arms to your cheeks. His doe eyes were dark with admiration, he wanted to devour you whole, but he waited, silently asking for permission to press his lips to yours. You silently obliged him and tilted your chin up to him. His soft lips met yours and the world slowed. His thumb traced small grounding circles on your jaw. Your insides filled with molten, a desperation for the moment to never stop. Eddie’s soft lips probed yours, lightly asking for permission to deepen your kiss. You permitted him with a content sigh and let Eddie show you just how much he really cared about you. All of the words he was too afraid to say to you, all of the times he wished that he could sweep you off your feet and kiss you in front of everyone. For the thank you he couldn’t give you for the note you left him. For the times he wanted to ask you out in his van, or the time he desperately wanted to tuck your wet hair behind your ear the first day he drove you home. He poured all his heart out to you and you felt it. You pulled away softly with wet eyes. 

“Eddie, I would be honored.”

-

Taglist: @eddies-acousticguitar @mmunson86 @sadbitchfangirl @hideoutside @anxiousobserver @ali-r3n @brinleighsstuff @filth-fiction-archive @vintagehellfire @kirstinjayjay @darknesseddiem @poofyloofy @sluggzillaa @aol19 @dark-angel-is-back @keikoraven @emxxblog @adrenalineeerevolver @crybabyddl @lovemegood @cherry-pop3547 @cozmiccass @leelei1980 @trixyvixx @skylar-ish-meh @harrysgothicbitch @emsgoodthinkin @micheledawn1975 @thehuntresswolf @girlwiththerubyslippers @blueberry-lemon

[lolita-lollipop]

Crickets

SOFT YANDERE PLATONIC ERASERMIC FAMILY X READER

(mostly Shinso)

WARNINGS: suicidal threats from the reader, not detailed but mentioned depression and dissociation, the reader is not okay, unwanted comfort. yandere(and all the things that come with it)

it's cold outside today.

As you dragged yourself through the front yard, scratches already lining your knees,you wished that you grabbed a jacket, or decided to do this during the summer season. The sedative they had given you hours ago was in full effect, putting weight on your shoulders and making your vision blur, putting you off balance again and again as you sprinted through the front door out into the garden. Everything just hurt, your head, your heart, your hands. You were just so finished with this bullshit, so done with fooling yourself into thinking you’d be okay.

Harsh sobs left your lips as you fumbled with the door trying to get any further, ever since they’d taken you it was made very clear that if you tried to escape, they would confine you to their side 24/7, but as times flew by and your desperation slowly pooled in the bottom of your soul, you stopped caring. You hated that these people treated you like a child, you hated how they belittled you, you hated the way you never had a say in anything, and especially you hated how you could never do anything about it.

Today was your breaking point.

They were doing what they usually did, pushing and pulling and shoving you around as if you were nothing but a baby, you already had very little sleep last night after your crying fit, so you weren’t very keen on being nice to them this morning.It was simple really, all you had asked for was some Tylenol for your headache, crying takes it out of you, they know that best. but they said no.

So out the door you ran, screaming and crying the whole way there. You knew that eri and shinso were here too, you knew that escape was practically impossible, and that your attempts would be worth nothing. But you needed this. You really did.

You regret it now. Now that you’re lying down on the grass in the front yard, your hands and knees covered in scrapes. Your head fuzzy and throbbing. It was quite the surprise that they hadn’t come out to get you yet, your sobs never halted though. It was a sad sight, just a puddle of a young girl crying herself into a migraine. It into got worse when you heard footsteps, and saw that familiar purple hair you could recognize as shinsos.

He said nothing, but he had a scary look on his face. He just grabbed your arm and tugged you up into his arms harshly. This of course did nothing for your intense panic.

“Please. Please don’t make me go back- please I can’t go back in there- shinso I love you- please I love you” you stammered out through sobs, punching at his test with all the force you could muster, as a hero in training it did nothing physically to him, but you could see the resolve behind his eyes falter.

“Should’ve thought about that before you ran. I made them calm down. You’re lucky it’s me instead of Aizawa out here” he spoke as he always did, coldly and lacking emotion. Only holding you tighter and beginning to walk back to the house. You dug your bare feet into the dirt, pulling back at him. it was pathetic, you knew. the lengths you were willing to go in the name of escape.

“Please. I can’t do this anymore- shinso I’m so tired. They make me so tired I can’t even think straight anymore. I just can’t take it anymore” you were begging in desperation at this point, squirming and scratching at him, anything to get him off, to let you go.

“They’re giving you the life you wanted. A life you would’ve killed to have” The chirp of the crickets in the garden overtook the conversation, and a long silence overtook the two of you. you could hear and see everything, the water flushing through the fountain,the buzz of the bees, the chirp of the crickets, it was too much, everything was hazy and blended together and you were left overwhelmed and terrified.

It's cold outside today , maybe that's the reason you keep shivering, maybe it's fear-actually, terror is a better word for it.

“I wanted that life willingly! I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to be taken from my home in the middle of the night. Even if I hate my parents, I can’t stand that I have no power! Please, you have to understand, I’m rotting away here, I have no purpose at all- please shinso-“he paused in his trek towards the door, taking a deep, calculated breath.

“Tell that to them.”

“shinso please- please I love you. I can’t go back there, please don’t make me, I can’t, if I go back they’ll hurt me, they’ll be upset shin, I don’t wanna get hurt again” you begged as he began to walk again, your heels were begging to bleed out of the cuts the harsh ground was making. Tears flowed freely down your face now, and you flailed and kicked and cried, he was stronger than you, the both of you knew that. You could see a little sympathy in the back of his eyes though, maybe he wasn’t dead internally. not yet.

“You know that isn’t true, they would never. Now hush. You’ll be fine, I love you too.” Planting a kiss on your forehead, he hoisted you up, brushing your hair out of your face and beginning to rub circles that usually would be soothing on your neck. A long pause rung out, a deafening silence overtook the two of you as you fully came to the realization that he wasn’t going to help you, and your attention was drawing to the crunch of hit boots on the rocky mud.

.

.

.

“I’ll kill myself.” He paused, and his head shot down towards you faster than you could even see. Your resolve had completely shattered by now, any words you said were mumbly and overridden by your tears and your heavy breathing. You were broken completely, utterly done with the world for putting you in this situation, you had been shattered into a million pieces, and shinso could see it. He could see how desperate you were. Something flashed in his eyes.

“Sweetheart…”

“I will, I would rather die. I can’t go back in there, if you make me I’ll jump off a roof, or I’ll fall down the stairs, or I’ll hang myself. I just- I won’t go back- not alive” you rushed out in between sobs, you had stopped fighting, instead opting for intense teary-eyed eye contact to make your point heard. Your hands now gripped the collar of his shirt, quivering. your heart was trembling, and so was your body, it would only be minutes till you would feint. This is it.

“Don’t say that- you don’t have to hurt yourself for freedom, just ask them and they’ll give you whatever you want, anything. They love you-“ he begun, stroking your hair as he held you. Your hands continued to shake as his eyes met your gaze. You wouldn’t go back, you couldn’t, shinso saw what it was doing to you. He saw the way you shrank from loud noises now and winced when getting up from the couch, how your eyes would sometimes go glassy as if you were in a different place entirely. He wouldn’t do this to you, he loves you too much right?

Right?

“I DONT WANT THE FREEDOM THEYLL GIVE ME, I WANT TO LEAVE. I WANT TO LIVE MY OWN LIFE. I’ll do it, you think I won’t but I will. Please- even if you don’t take me away from here- just let me run, say- say you couldn’t catch me. Just give me enough time to get in a taxi, you don’t even have to help me. Please shinso, I’m begging you” your silent years now turned into gut wrenching, stomach aching sobs. He was going to let you rot in that house, with your stupid dolls and toys and cats that you were far too old for. There… there’s no hope for you… I’d he doesn’t help- if he doesn’t help than you’re stuck for all eternity till you are nothing but a skeleton.

“You know I can’t do that” at his words your hands begun to dig in his neck, your cries hurt your stomach, that endless pit of despair slowly settling at the bottom. this is it. this is the end of your life.

“I would rather go live in hell than have to live here ever again. I- I just can’t do this anymore, they hurt me just so they can feel good helping me, everything I do makes me so tired, so weak. I can’t pick things up on my own, sometimes my knees are so weak I can’t even walk. I need them. Fuck I need them Shinso. Do you know how humiliating that is, how infuriating that is? They've ruined me, I’m not a whole person anymore. Please… please just- just let me have this” You could barely breathe at this point, your lungs filling up with that depressing feeling. As you spoke your sobs got worse and worse, till you were almost incomprehensible. You can’t do this anymore. You just can’t. Too locked up in your internal monologue you missed out on the shift in shinsos eyes, how his sympathy increased with every word you spoke.

“Oh baby… I-“ tears pricked at the edges of his eyes, and a deepset frown splayed across his face. He loves you, god he loves you so much. But… maybe you would be better off away, you aren’t happy here, you cry day and night till your stomach aches, you don’t eat, or sleep. You’re a shell. A shell of the girl he loves, is it so bad to want you back?? He can’t keep you like this, unhappy, in pain.

Much to your surprise, he slowly placed you on the ground, staring right into your souls with those eyes of his, letting a “shhh” come from his mouth, he pointed towards the road. Your eyes widened as you looked up at your big brother, immediately you threw yourself on him and squeezed as tight as you could in a hug, still crying all the way through. You didn’t know you could love somebody this much.

“I love you” he spoke, and immediately you pushed off your bare feet in a dash for the road, willing to run all the way back to town if need be. You didn’t even notice the blood seeping out from your feet due to the excess adrenaline running through your system, you were simply ecstatic. You made it a couple yards, not even sparing your brother a glance, you were free! YOU WERE FREE! You ran as fast as you could….

Only to be yanked back harshly. You let out a sob as arms engulfed you, swallowing you up whole, along with your dignity and will to live.

“That’s enough shinso. Oh don’t cry sweet girl, we’ll make you better don’t worry. If I had known you felt so- so awful I would’ve helped sooner” you recognized one of your captors, mic, by not only his voice, but also his smell, and how hard his arms were gripping you. You could feel the muscles he had squeezing you, holding you ever so close to him, and warming you up. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Immediate panic set into your bones, he’s gonna be so mad at you for running , and he’s gonna be livid that you threatened yourself. You can feel the punishments coming. you shivered in his arms, panic and terror washing over you, clouding any sense of judgment you had managed to keep.

"Please- Please don't make me go back- ill die pleas-" you sobbed, scratching at him with your short nails, digging your feet further in the dirt, you found yourself wincing as mud made its way into the cuts in your feet. It only made you cry more and more. you were halted in your begging though, all the air in your lungs being knocked straight out of your chest.

Mic hoisted you up much like Shinso had previously done, however his grip was iron l, impossible to budge and honestly, painful. He squeezed you and cooed into your ear in attempts to calm your nerves. Nothing was working however, you were too fragile, too easy to break. and you were broken all right, with the way you were sobbing into his chest, that was for sure. You just need time, comfort, safety, security. they would give you all of that and more, but you had to stay with them, you just had to.

It's cold outside, but god you would rather be frozen alive than brought back into that house. this is it for you. you're over. It's done.

“Don’t worry baby, we’ll make it all better soon.

I promise” ---------------------------------------------------- its been a while huh. I FIGURED OUT HOW TO DO A "Keep reading" CUT! YAY! I havent written something platonic in months but I feel like it was warranted so enjoy, this is pretty self indulgent so I hope it works for yall too. have fun. I hope everybody reading this has a lovely day, and remembers that they are loved somewhere by someone. Have a great day! see you next time!

[vodika-vibes]

hello!!! i would like to request something for the follower event please! i would like to request aquamarine with wrecker in fall please! i also want wrecker to be emotionally intelligent please! i feel like it’s something that’s very underrated abt him.

i was thinking about something where the reader is the medic to the bad batch, who has been recently heartbroken so horribly by an ex that she’s given up on love entirely. then wrecker comes along being his lovable, caring, and joyous self and the reader can feel herself falling for him. but because of her history with love, she tries to close herself off from him.

wrecker, who has been falling in love with the reader, can see that something is wrong, and tries to help but receives a cold shoulder. eventually wrecker confesses his feelings for the reader, and the reader tells wrecker that she feels the same but is scared about getting hurt again. wrecker reassures her that he is not going to break her heart, and tells her that love is about taking a leap of faith.

so the reader takes that leap of faith and it ends with the reader and wrecker having their first kiss!

absolutely no rush to get this finished btw! thank you so much, and i hope you have a wonderful day/night!!

I Can Fix That

Summary: Wrecker knows that the pretty Doctor has sworn off love. She’s never been shy about that, or about how awfully her ex treated her. But, he’s pretty sure that he can fix this.

Pairing: TBB Wrecker x F!Reader

Word Count: 652

Prompts: Aquamarine - Healing Love

Warnings: Implications of a previous abusive relationship, though there's no details

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Sorry that this took so long! I needed to come up with a good idea, and I think I finally found one. Also, I couldn't add in all of the details, due to my self-imposed word limit, but the implications are there.

“You need some help, Doc?” Wrecker asks with a grin as he knocks on the door to the medbay on the Marauder, “I’ve got nothing to do and Hunter told me to make myself useful.”

She frowns at him, though Wrecker can tell it’s not because she’s annoyed with him, so much as the situation, “I’m actually all set here, Wrecker. So long as no one gets hurt, it’ll stay that way.”

“Well, you know what Tech is like.”

She pauses, and then makes a face and turns to pull some bandages out from over the sink, “Honestly, for such a smart man you’d think that he’d be able to pay more attention.”

Wrecker grins, “He does pay attention. To his project.”

“You’re not helping.”

He laughs, “Sorry, sorry.” He settles on one of the chairs and stretches his legs out, “In any event, as soon as Tech finishes the repairs we can get out of here. I’m not a huge fan of how humid it is.”

She shoots him an odd look, “I mean, I don’t like it either. But why do you dislike it so much?”

Wrecker’s grin widens and he smooths his hand over his head, “It’ll ruin my hair.”

A startled laugh falls from her pretty lips, and Wrecker’s wide grin softens. He’s glad that she’s not giving him the cold shoulder anymore, it makes flirting with her so much easier.

Her laughter subsides after a few moments, but a few giggles still escape her lips, “You’re such a goof, Wrecker.”

“Well, someone on this ship has to be funny, it might as well be me.” He folds his arms over his chest, “You know,” Wrecker says slowly after a moment, “We’re going back to Ord Mantell after this.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Well, there’s this nice little food stall, they sell these little pancake things with desserts in the middle-?”

“You mean crepes?” She asks.

“Yeah, I think that’s what they’re called.” He watches her closely, “You want to get some with me?”

She pauses, and there’s a flash of uncertainty on her face.

“No judgment if you don’t, Firefly.” Wrecker adds, his voice gentle, “I know that your ex and his actions make dating hard, make trusting people hard-”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Wrecker-”

He holds up a hand, “Let me talk, please?”

She settles, though the look of uncertainty lingers on her face.

“Thank you.” Wrecker pauses to collect his thoughts, “I love you. You’re…amazing. You’re smart and kind and funny and good. And you’re so afraid of being hurt that you refuse to even consider a relationship.”

She ducks her head, her hands clutching the hem of her jacket.

“And that’s fine. I have no idea of the kind of stuff your ex put you through, but I can guess.” Wrecker leans in, “This is me making sure that you know that I’m interested. And me letting you know that I’m a patient man and I can wait until you’re ready for a relationship.”

She blinks at him, startled.

“So, what do you say? Want to get crepes with me? Just as friends, no more.”

She’s quiet for a long time, long enough that Wrecker starts to think that she’s going to turn him down, but then her grip loosens on the hem of her jacket, “Do you remember if they had fruit crepes?”

And Wrecker grins, “You know, I think they do.”

“Well, in that case…” She won’t meet his gaze, “I do like crepes. And I like spending time with you.”

“Then it’s a date.” Her gaze snaps up, and he grins, “A friend date, but a date all the same.” Wrecker pushes to his feet, “Now, I have to go. I was supposed to be helping Tech.”

She blinks, and then laughs, “Wrecker!”

“What? You’re so much better to look at than my own brother. See you later, Doc!”

[wayfayrr]

I see your human!reader and raise you: the Chain struggling to find food they can actually eat, reader feeling terrible and maybe a bit like a burden because of it, and getting into a dangerous situation in order to make it up to them

Source: the Owl House :)

I'm so sorry that this took so long to answer!! I've been quite busy recently but while I haven't watched the owl house I hope this does what you wanted justice, it got out of hand the more I wrote!!! I've heard it's great I just don't really watch shows :( Fair warning this got way more angsty then I planned for it too, with reader being pretty flippant about their own safety than they really should be, there's a brief not very detailed description of gore too. (it's also fairly wars centric towards the end)

[masterlist]

“[Name]! So wind and I’ve just been to the village right? I think I’ve finally found something I can cook that you should be able to eat! It was quite expensive but I’m sure it’ll be worth it for you!” 

“We looked around for ages, so if you can’t eat this then there might not be anything in Hyrule that you can eat!”

Wind means well with what he’s saying; I know that Wild does too, they don’t mean to make me feel bad - I think they don’t anyway. Not like they really need to try with how much of a burden to them I am. Buying expensive supplies just for me? When they’re already struggling to afford their own basic supplies, now I’m just adding unnecessary costs for them. Don’t get me started with the looks of pity they give me either. 

“Thank you both but, please don’t go spending so much on me.”

“But we have to find something you can eat, you’ll just be a… It’s not good for you to starve!”

That - that’s the closest any of them have gotten to saying it outright, they really do just see me as a burden - they aren’t even trying to hide it now. No wonder I’ve always been kept to the side in any fights, Hyrule can’t heal me so I’d just be deadweight if I got hurt, I can’t fight like they can really all I’m good for is as a meat shield to defend them from magic. “Hey [name], are you alright? You zoned out a bit there…”

“Oh, yeah I just - I think I just need to have some time alone if that’s alright? I’ll make sure to stay in distance of the camp.”

“As long as you’re careful and not there too long, I’m sure it’s fine. I’ll tell the others for you.”

I hope he doesn’t.

He seemed content with how I nodded at him, so I should be in the clear to go and just vanish for a while even if it’s just to pretend I’m not causing them issues for a little while.

It doesn’t feel like it takes me long to get to a nice place to sit, so it should still be pretty close to camp - not that they should be worried for me. Somewhere nice and open to sit next to a gentle babbling brook, it’s calm and I’m alone, everything I need at the moment.

Shit - how did I not see a sleeping lynel!? No no, not now I don’t even have a weapon! … What if I did kill it though - their parts can be sold for a fortune… I could pay my way and prove I’m not just useless. Even if I don’t - well they won’t have to worry about me in that case.

It hasn’t seemed to notice me yet, maybe there’s a chance I can come back from it. If I just stay low and as silent as I can then I should be able to jump it. 

Stay quiet, take its weapon. Wow, that’s a lot lighter than Wild makes it out to be. Now to just - Just go for its neck! I - I actually managed to slit its throat!

IT’S STILL ALIVE!?

Okay. OKAY! Its movements are sluggish and it seems to be bleeding out so just get away from it - 

Why - why can’t I feel my arm properly? Why is my shoulder so wet all of a -! The pain hit harder than a truck every nerve on my left side feels like it’s being set ablaze, there wasn’t a single hope of keeping in the scream I just let out, one I didn’t even realise had ripped its way from my throat. Tilting my head down to see the cause; suddenly my body feeling nothing but raw visceral pain suddenly makes a lot more sense than before. The stupid thing cut half through my shoulder with my arm now hanging limply by my side. 

“[NAME]! WHAT ARE YOU DOING - YOU’VE BEEN MISSING FOR HOURS - WHAT Did you - [name]!?”

Wars is here..? Didn’t Wild say I was going off for a bit? Why would he be looking for me? I can’t be worth so much that he’d go off on his own to look for me.

“Oh goddesses [name] what - no, no, no stay awake, you’ve got to stay with me darling.”

“‘m awake… ‘m - still ‘ere…”

Is that really what I sound like right now…  I sound so slurred… like - like how people on tv sounded when they were. Oh.

I’m bleeding out and delirious then, no wonder Wars is ‘here’, he’s just my brain giving me one last happy memory before I kick the bucket. Isn’t that wonderful, to spend my last moments hallucinating my unreciprocated crush caring for me. Closing my eyes feels all too easy, even when I’m about to drift off it still feels as if he’s holding me, maybe this won’t be too bad?

“[Name] don’t you DARE close your eyes, you - I’m not losing anyone else I care about - I can't lose you… I haven't even-”

A harsh slap to the face after a shaky breath - one that feels all too real - has me reconsidering things, the feeling of something tears dropping onto my face is the thing that finally has me opening my eyes despite how hard it is to do so. 

“I - I have some bandages, a potio- no that’s not going to help you I’ve got bandages I just need you to talk to me while I use them, so I know you aren’t close to passing out. You’re going to make it out of this - I need you to make it out of this.”

The agony of him adjusting my arm to bind it, well it’s proof that I am still very much alive. If he really wants me to talk… well then I might as well try to get some answers out of him.

“Why - why ‘re you - wh’ ‘d you come lookin’ fr me?”

“You - vanished for hours without a word, did you really think none of us would get worried? Even if none of the others would, I will always come for you.”

“Hm’ wild said he w’s gonna tell the rs’ o’ you… b’sides ‘m just a burden ‘nt I? Wil’ pretty muh said i’.”

“...Wild. but why would he risk - he wouldn’t put you in the… Don’t worry about what wild says he’s lying, you’re not a burden, even if you were. You’re one I would choose to carry every day for the rest of my life without a single regret. Don’t let what he says get to you, darling.”

Murderous, that’s the best way I could hope to describe the look on his face, it’s like he wants wild dead. His bandages seem to have stopped the bleeding though, so while I still feel lightheaded I should live as long as the wound doesn’t get infected. 

“Wai’ why’r you callin’ me darlin’? ‘M not - you’r…”

A little smirk crossed his face then barely lasting long enough for me to just notice it before it was replaced by concern, did I forget something, I mean it’s not impossible that I also hit my head right? Right?

“But you’re my partner, honeybee, we’ve been together for a few days now - you - you can’t have forgotten that right? If that’s the only price for you surviving, I mean we can always just make better memories. You - You’re still alive and that’s the most important thing.”

Well that’s not impossible, I know I’ve had feelings for him for a while so if he did ask I would’ve said yes…

“We can remake the memories later after you recover. You know I’m so glad that human blood flows slower than ours, those precious few extra seconds are literally lifesaving.”

He’s just babbling to himself now, must’ve been stressed over me; now that I’m safer it’s all just draining out of him. The way he’s clinging to me and shaking shows that fairly well too, like he doesn’t plan to let me out of his arms for a long while. 

“Please never do this ever again, I don’t even know what you were planning but you could’ve died [name], you could’ve died and I wouldn’t have had a chance to say goodbye. Please you have to explain why when you’re better. Please promise me you’ll tell me why.”

“I will Wars, I swear.”

“...That’s all I needed to hear, thank you darling.”

[nite-puff]

fuck it! gay robots!

ishimondo wall-e au! it came to me in a dream.

mondo (… M.O.N.D-0???) is the last robot standing cleaning up earth when he gets a surprise visit from a rocket ship. on that ship is taka (… T.A.K.A???) who has been sent to find any proof that earth can support life once again. the two meet and shenanigans ensue. maybe they fall in love???

anyways, more rambling from me about these two under the cut.

okay! so my main thing with mondo and his behavior is that it’s all based on him being the last being on earth, so he really doesn’t have anyone around him (other than his pet cockroach, chuck!) and therefore doesn’t feel the need to act a certain way to impress anyone. so this is version of mondo is if he didn’t have a whole bunch of self-image issues and just was his funki and cringe self. he literally is cringe and free.

after years having to clean up earth, he’s grown an affinity for the little things to pass the time. like collecting little knick-knacks he finds on the job to bring back home or making figures out of the cubes of trash he makes. he’s a little artist and collector.

taka on the other hand is at first rigid and is set out to complete his directive because it’s what he was made to do. he has a whole population back on the axium counting on him to find any traces of life on earth (or so he thinks). he does occasionally display some signs of humanity and happiness. he feels warmth in the little things as well, like a cockroach or bubble wrap or a lighter. he’s enthralled and wants to know more about this strange place but can’t because he has a job to do. maybe the strange little robot guy he meets doesn’t throw him off his course.

design stuff! i know i made mondo look less… anthro ig??? in his design than taka, but i wanted to make up for it by “personalizing” him a bit. he’s doodled all over himself and he thinks his trousers make him look nice. maybe he thinks the doodles look badass because they’re like tattoos. i also did that to contrast more with taka, who looks spotless. i was considering giving him legs, but remembered that of course he would have wheels. biker, and alla that. he was born to roll around. and i don’t think it’s noticeable, but i tried to make his arms and hands bigger than wall-e’s because he’s a little stronger. in this au, mondo doesn’t do the trash compacting his his little cube body, but with his hands (to keep with the idea that mondo likes to work and creat stuff with his hands). so he needs to have bigger and more efficient tools. also, i changed his wheels to be diamond shaped.

taka meanwhile was super easy to design. he and eve have sorta similar design qualities, like a majority white color palette and very simple shapes with not a lot of detail going on. very easy to mix the two. the idea of his design is what spurred me into thinking about this au. the one thing i’ll point out is that i made eve’s little dots that pop up when she scans things vertical so that it can sort of resemble taka’s medal. idk i thought it was neat.

(also, if im being completely honest with myself, if taka was actually any wall-e character, he would be MO. just an angry gremlin that musters up the courage to stray off his path because he is so determined to clean up wall-e’s mess. and then they become friends at the end. he just gives off taka energy.)

anyways, that’s it for right now. im pretty satisfied with taka’s design, but im considering changing some things on mondo’s. mainly the color palette.

am i gonna turn this into a full-fledged story??probably not, but maybe i’ll add more onto it in the near future. like assigning other characters.

wall-e’s a cute movie. gotta put the blorbos in it.

[bruisedboys]

Your characterization of the marauders is spot on for all of them!! Ok, here are my insane thoughts about Remus in no particular order:

- he’s obviously insecure about his scars, but nothing makes him feel better or more loved than when you trace them softly or kiss along one of them because you think he’s beautiful no matter what and you need him to know that

- he’d be the perfect boyfriend around the holidays, helping with baking and taking you around to see the lights and always making sure you have a warm drink and letting you borrow his sweaters because you just look so beautiful in them and doing a gift exchange where he gives you the most thoughtful gift ever because he always listens and always remembers every little thing you say

- he’s a great chef and he’ll never let the boys know, and as much as he loves taking you out and showing you off, his favorite dates are at home where he cooks a nice meal and you cuddle up to watch a movie after or he’ll read to you (omg his voice would be all soft and a little scratchy ahh)

- bookstore dates are the best, and you’ll go and pick out a book for him and he’ll pick one out for you and if it’s nice you’ll go read in the park or on your back porch but if it’s cold (like it is now) you’ll curl up on the couch together and read for the whole afternoon, just enjoying being near each other

- lately I can’t stop thinking about dad!Remus, he’d be so great while you’re pregnant and he’d read all the baby books and he’d baby proof your apartment and he’d get you whatever you needed or wanted at any hour of the day all while being stressed beyond belief but he’d never let you know that when you have much more important things to worry about and once the baby comes, she’s got him wrapped around her tiny little fingers (because he’s obviously a girl dad) and just imagine this tiny little baby being held so gently by this tall, deceptively strong man

- also I have some very detailed thoughts about book store reader x single dad Remus if you’d like to hear…

omg so many good thoughts thank you angel!!!! I will be thinking about all of these for the next 2-5 business days…..

- ok firstly YES. bf is very insecure about his scars but you tell him they’re pretty and make him look really handsome and he just loses it!!!!! the second you kiss or even just caress one of his scars he melts. also if you’re ever insecure about your own scars/stretch marks/other marks on your body he’ll show you his and be like but look :))) we’re matching babe :))))

- yes he is so christmas boyfriend!!!!! he’s such a good gift giver because he remembers everything about you and yes his gifts are always so thoughtful!! I feel like he’s very into handmade gifts too! I’m imagining a handmade clay vase or something like that. or a wooden jewellery box. omg!!

- real!!!! he cooks the best homey meals (domestic!remus 😵‍💫) like pasta dishes, soups, homemade bread. omg bread is definitely his speciality and he’ll make it fresh for you at the drop of a hat if you’re craving it <3

- bookstore dates!!! stop I am literally swooning. you and him will do a little game where you don’t let the other person see what book you’re getting until you’re out of the store and then you present it to them once you’re out!! he has the best taste in books so you always know it’ll be good 😌 and then when you read together he’s always gotta be touching you, your legs in his lap or his hand on your thigh, sometimes he’ll even lay in your lap!!!

- dad!remus will actually be the death of me. for some reason the idea of any of my favourite characters being dads just awakens something feral inside of me. he’s definitely the best ever when you’re pregnant!!! you better believe he’s doing everything for you, you’re not allowed to lift a finger babe. he’s very protective of you too, very gentle with you and aware of anything and everything that could hurt you or the baby even a tiny bit. if you’re emotional or sick or just having a really rough time he always holds it together for you, never losing his patience and always reminding you that you’re incredible and strong and he loves you!!! also also he loves his friends but he doesn’t let them rub your tummy or talk to the baby for too long, that’s his baby thank you very much 😇

oh em gee I’d love your thoughts on bookstore reader x single dad!remus 🤭 all of your thoughts so far were soooo good and fuelled my brainrot successfully