#of which he is unfortunately subjected to very often

[camels-pen]

based on a headcanon

[mailmango]

One-on-One

Pairing: Professor Henry Cavill x Student Male Reader

Genre: Fluffy Smut, MDNI

Kinks/Warnings/Notes: AMAB Reader; Calling the reader a slut, a whore; Calling the reader a good boy, praise; Slapping and spanking; Age gap; Professor x Student

Length: 5.1k words, Fic

Synopsis: You're one of the lucky few to have ever experienced one of Professor Cavill's lectures. And you are the lucky, singular person to have ever experienced his heart-racing one-on-one session.

A/N: oml hiiii! If you're reading this, then thank you very much! this is my first time writing something over a thousand words (of my own volition) in probably 3 years at least! It's also my first time writing serious smut GAHAHAHAH I would appreciate feedback (totally optional), but most of all, hope you enjoy :D

Credits: @/aquazero for the divider and @/starboye for helping me with formatting and tagging!! ^-^

I picked this one just for you! I hope it’s sweet and juicy…

You’ve always liked your Ancient Mythologies Studies class. It was an easy A, one that came packaged with an interesting topic to boot. Who doesn’t want to hear of the religions and myths of civilizations from thousands and thousands of years ago?

The answer is most people. It was one of the smallest classes–even with a size cap of twenty, it had barely filled out ten slots. It seemed most people simply didn’t take interest in the subject. That meant that most people were poor, unfortunate people, because they didn’t have the pleasure of knowing Professor Cavill. 

Professor Cavill had worked at the university teaching their Ancient Mythologies Studies class for the past several years. He was a graduate of this school and, after having established himself as a prominent archaeologist, he opted to take time and teach a course for two sessions weekly. In his words he, “Wanted to help inspire any young people with a passion for learning about those that came before us.” 

You had found those words so, so interesting. But it was more so about the man saying them. 

Professor Cavill–Henry–was a tall, broad-shouldered man in his mid-forties. He was kind and considerate to each member of his class, treating them with a warmth and manner you’d read about in an overly unrealistic romance novel. And yet, he was very much real. You had class with him every Monday morning and Friday night. 

Classes which you would sit in, bouncing your leg and hiding a raging boner as you watched the man fiddle with and adjust his tie. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Y/N, are you sure you’d rather not attend the festivities?” 

Ah, just your luck, wasn’t it? Your college had been holding a concert for a handful of its alumni to celebrate their band’s first national tour. The university had decided that, due to the band falling under the alternative genre, they would allow classes to continue should any students or staff be disinterested. 

It just so happened that, as much as you weren’t opposed to them, you also weren’t heavily inclined to actually attend their show. You had figured that at least one of your ten classmates would feel the same. 

Apparently not.

Hence, you now sat alone in a small lecture room, the chairs beside you empty as you stared at your beloved professor, Professor Cavill. 

“Ah, no, professor. Were you looking to attend?” 

“Myself? My personal taste doesn’t align with their music. As much as I love Clive-” 

Clive was the lead singer and, as you recall, one of Professor Cavill’s former students. 

“-we’ll be meeting for a congratulations dinner tomorrow evening. We’ve already discussed.”

He smiled, dimples forming, as he flipped open his files for the night’s lecture. 

Then he had to reach for his stupid tie. 

“Would you mind if I loosened my tie? I’ve been feeling warm as of earlier this evening.” 

His large, somewhat hairy hand was already holding the knot one either side. He did it often; you had come to suspect it was an unconscious habit at times. He would tug at his tie, calling attention to his strong chest or those bulging biceps…

Damn his stupid tie. Today, it was his blue tie, one you knew to be one of his favourites. He wore it at least thrice a month, most often during Friday sessions.

Every time he would touch it, toy with it, it sent shivers down your spine and blood straight to your cock. You almost weren’t sure if you hated or loved that he was almost never without one.

“Ah, not at all, Sir. Go ahead.” 

“Thank you, Y/N.”

God, your name sounded so good out of his mouth. He drew the syllables out, gave it this weight that you hadn’t heard your name spoken with before. You could get addicted to the way he had said it just now. You were tempted to find an excuse to have him say it again. 

That opportunity came as, for the first time, he pushed past absentminded tugs at his tie and now pulled the knot away from his chest. For the first time, you saw his neck without the tie drawing attention. It almost sounded manic to say but… the sight began to draw you in. 

And then he overshot it. The tie came off, knot still done, but it was completely removed now. He stared down at the cloth before using his free hand to undo it, leaving it nice and straight in his hand. 

“Do you mind if I forgo it?”

Eye contact. He made eye contact with those god damn near hypnotising eyes. They really were unique; the man had something called segmental heterochromia. He had mentioned it once before. It meant that his left iris, though mostly blue like his right, had a patch of brown in its upper half. 

It felt mystifying, like a siren whose song you couldn’t ignore. He continued to look at you, and without him breaking eye contact, you were hopelessly unable to do so yourself. Instead, you simply muttered a weak response. 

“Go ahead, Sir.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Class seemed to fly by. Your hand wrote on its own as your legs bounced, mind and senses completely and utterly hinged on the man’s every word and movement. Though he entranced you each time you sat in on his lectures, tonight was different. You had always blamed his tie. It’s the tie. The playing with the tie, his stature with it, that’s what you blamed for your constant erections. 

But it was difficult to deny it when, as the man orated with his tie discarded, you found your cock throbbing more eagerly than you can remember it having ever done before.

Sweat rolled down your forehead from the heat you were feeling. You cursed yourself, begging that the man would somehow not notice the warmth that afflicted you. But, as you let yourself look at him again, really look at him, you were both relieved and mortified to find that he was under the same circumstances. 

“Is the air conditioning broken?”

His words were breathless as he fanned himself with his papers. He was tugging at his collar now, further exposing his neck, now slick with sweat. It seemed to be bothering him more than it was you, somehow. 

“I-I think so.”

You could barely manage to let the words out. Your breathing had gotten unsteady, mind and body unable to focus as the man groaned from the discomfort. Seemingly without realising, his hand undid the two topmost buttons of his shirt. It exposed his chest–a strong chest covered in wild, dark black hair that you had been completely oblivious to the glorious existence of.

“Y/N? Are you alright? Is something-”

Of course now he notices your stares. It couldn’t have been when it was something that was easily explained away, like you were staring at him due to intent listening. No, it had to be when your gaze, which he followed, led down to his exposed chest. His exposed chest which had, mortifyingly, caused a wet spot to form in your pants. 

“Ah, my apologies. Let me redo my button-” 

“No! I mean-”

Your words came out too eager. Your brain was screaming at your mouth not to speak, to not make an utter fool of yourself. But your mouth chose to go rogue, instead opting to speak like a horned-up teen begging his boyfriend to keep making out with him. 

“Y-you don’t have to. I don’t mind.” 

An eyebrow was cocked in your direction. 

“Is that so, Y/N?” 

Your silence was used to scream, rather than actually think of anything remotely close to damage control. 

“Y-yes Sir. I don’t mind if you keep your buttons undone.”

“If that’s the case, then…” 

Was this… reality? Surely it could be. It was impossible. 

You were sitting there, cock leaking with precum like you were a virgin watching your first porno, as your handsome professor began to undo buttons, one after another. He was exposing himself further and further with each passing second, each button exposing a new section of chiselled, hairy, sweat-covered skin.

His breaths were deep and heavy, sighs and groans of relief sending more and more sensations to your cock. Every vibration of his vocal chords seemed to be felt in full force by your erection, not helping your situation in any way whatsoever. 

Then the man had the gall to take his shirt off, folding it neatly and placing it aside. 

His body truly was magnificent. Plush, thick muscles were a constant, whether you looked at his chest, his abs, his shoulders, or any of his muscles. They radiated strength, covered in that same black hair as on his chest and equally slick with sweat. His body glistened under the dim light of the lights hanging above, almost like a gladiator fresh from battle. 

How the hell were you supposed to react? What the hell were you supposed to do? 

“Y/N, it’s hot, isn’t it? Would you mind if I further… undressed?”

How the hell were you supposed to say no to that? 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was almost pathetic how easily the man got you to fish your cock out of your strained pants. Little more than an offhanded request, actually. 

Now you sat, pants and underwear around your ankles, your own shirt unbuttoned, as you feverishly pumped your erect dick. Your hand glided up and down due to the slickness of your overflowing precum, breathing unstable and desperate. But you were helpless, the possibility of you stopping a distant memory.

Professor Cavill was now nearly nude. He had discarded his elegant brown leather shoes and well-tailored pants, also in a neat pile on his desk. It left him, his statuesque form, completely exposed to you and your horny, unabashedly feral mind. It was a wonder you hadn’t cum yet. 

“Keep pumping for me, Y/N. Be a good boy and keep going.” 

Fuck, you couldn’t stop. Not when he said your name in a gruff, demanding voice. Not when he called you the sweetest pet names. Not when he stared at you, panting and eager, with a hunger that a predator has for its prey. 

Most especially when his cock strained against dark, black fabric, as he rubbed along his clothed shaft as he took in the sight of your desperate form. 

“Prof-” 

“Henry. Call me Henry, Y/N.” 

Shit, you could feel your cum about to well up and burst. 

“Henry!” 

He gave you a curt nod of approval. Your stomach pulsed with excitement. 

“P-please, fuck me-!” 

You looked at him, eyes wide and begging, and desperately awaited a reply. With mercy, he gave you one. 

“Alright, Y/N. I’ll fuck you.” 

You let out a pathetic, strangled mewl as your cum sprayed up and onto your sweaty torso. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Henry–gah, you got to call him Henry–had a cock that you couldn’t fully process was actually human. It was too perfect. It was thick, nearly as thick as your wrist though thankfully just short. It was lengthy, having had to be nine or ten inches at full mast. His balls were heavy, full of cum that he was eager to let out, and the base of his shaft was buried in a wild, thick, furry bush. 

It was so close to you. It throbbed in front of you as you sat in your chair, the proximity allowing you to see the thick, pulsing vein that ran from base to near the tip. It let you watch as that fat, mushroom tip leaked a viscous, sticky precum. It lets you inhale that delicious, heady musk, intoxicating your mind and sending it reeling. 

It was almost too much to process. Almost.

You were far, far too eager to begin sucking on the fat shaft. Who could blame you? People would pay good money to get a taste of a cock this perfect. 

Fuck, the taste! A salty, somehow indescribably masculine taste, that flooded and overwhelmed your mind. It felt like you were at risk of addiction. Nothing had ever or would ever taste this damn divine. The copious amounts of thick, even saltier, precum being pumped into your throat was an excellent, equally addictive addition.

Even though it hurt and strained your jaw to stretch that wide and accommodate its length, the activity felt simply euphoric. If Henry would let you, you’d opt to do nothing more and nothing less than worship his cock, day and night. 

“That’s a good, good boy, Y/N. Lube up my cock.”

You always were one to follow Henry’s instructions. Always one to listen, to be a good, obedient puppy. Maybe that’s why you were his favourite. 

And, as he uttered praise and guided your head with a large hand’s firm grip, you certainly weren’t going to start disobeying now. With a hum of acknowledgement, you dutifully continued your task.

Once satisfied, Henry grunted and lightly tapped the back of your head. 

“That’s good, baby. That’s enough. Come, get off my cock now.” 

Part of you wanted to resist. How were you supposed to tear yourself away from his dick? It sounded impossible. But, you were eager for his praise, to hear him call you a good boy again. So, with one last deep dive down, your nose pressed into his hairy bush and your lips to the base of his shaft, you reluctantly pulled your face away and off of his delicious dick. 

“Good fucking boy. You’re a very, very good boy, Y/N.” 

Your cock throbbed with lust-filled need as you nodded with pure excitement. 

“You deserve a reward. Lay on my desk, Y/N, and let me take care of your now.” 

This was somehow the easiest instruction of the night to follow. You found yourself, now nude with your clothes having been folded just like Henry’s, laying on your back on his wooden desk. The surface felt cold and hard, but the feeling of a sturdy base comforted you. You knew that you’d need it. 

As you took deep, steady breaths. The first of the night, actually. Your mind was trained on one thing, one concern rather. 

How would you take his monstrous cock? 

The answer would come soon. Without warning, your legs were lifted by two strong hands. You looked down, seeing as Henry in all his glory set your ankles on his broad shoulders. He began pressing light kisses to your skin, beard tickling your skin, as he maintained unwavering eye contact. It caused you to let out a soft laugh, which he opted to respond to. 

“Your voice is beautiful, Y/N. Save it for me, okay?” 

You felt it then. His fat, throbbing, steaming hot cock was set beside yours, pressed between your dick and your thigh. He was slowly and subtly moving his hips back and forth, groaning at the sensational friction.

“You’ll let me hear you sing tonight, yeah? Let me hear your wonderful voice, Y/N.” 

His words were sweet like honey. It was almost enough to distract you from the prodding of his thick fingers against your tight hole. But, as you felt them push past your tight ring of muscle, your voice came out like the gates had been torn down, a moan resounding through the room. 

“There you go. Good boy… moan for me. Let me hear each and every one, okay?” 

You stared at him, eyes half-lidded, and nodded with an eager need to please.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Deep breaths, Y/N. Deep breaths for me now…”

How could someone so sweet cause so much pain? Henry was hunched over, his large, comforting hands on either side of your head as he hovered his face no more than four inches from yours. His heavy breaths fanned against your cheeks as he kept a steady, solid eye contact between you two. It was wondrous how much fire brewed within you from such a mundane act. 

“Are you ready? I’m going to insert the tip, alright?” 

He looked at you with such care and concern that it almost shocked you. He was a big, hulking man with a terrifyingly huge cock, but as it has come to be shown, a larger heart. It was so damn cheesy, wasn’t it? 

But that didn’t matter as you nodded once again, body unable to take the anticipation, the waiting, for him to shove his fat cock inside. 

…Except maybe it had to. His cockhead slipped inside with ease, but that wasn’t to say it wasn’t fucking painful. You let out a strangled half-moan half-scream, and within seconds, those large hands were patting the side of your head.

“Y/N? Is it too much? I’ll stop, okay? Should I pull out?”

Henry was kissing your forehead, your cheeks, the sides of your lips. He muttered small praises and comforts, every other kiss targeting a tear that had fallen from the pain. He kept true to his word; his hips remained still, his cock not pushing a millimetre further inside. It was from that moment of calm that, as you adjusted to the burning stretch, you were able to speak. 

“D-don’t. Just- give me a second to-“ 

You huffed out, desperate for air. 

“-adjust!” 

He smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips. He tasted, somehow, better than his cock. It wasn’t quite something you could place, to be frank. It was a savoury taste, one with hints of candies you couldn’t identify and a tea whose flavour you couldn’t imagine. But it was entirely and wholly the delicious thing you’ve ever or will ever have. 

That was worth getting addicted to. And if Henry would let you, you’d chase that taste every single moment you can. Something told you that yeah, he would. 

“You’re doing so, so good for me, Y/N. So good, you feel so good…” 

Henry’s voice was low and comforting, just as much, if not more than his calming touches. He spoke in whispers between each kiss, and it led you to slowly, but surely, adjust to the pain. Before you had even realised, all you felt was the desire for him to push even further. 

“H-Henry, you can move now… please…” 

“Are you sure, Y/N?” 

Hearing your name roll off his tongue, so casual by this point, only cemented your enthusiasm. You nodded slowly and weakly, smiling the best you could. 

“Fuck, you’re beautiful… Hold on to me, and tell me if I need to stop, okay?” 

Your cock nearly bounced at the praise. You eked out another nod as your hands came up to rest on his shoulders, leading him to return your smile with one of his own. And fuck, it was gorgeous. 

He kept his movement slow. It was torturous, but you could appreciate the time and the caution he took. His face watched yours, now scanning for any sign of pain or discomfort. At every wince or scrunch, he would stop, waiting for a nod or smile as your sign of readiness. 

“You feel excellent, Y/N. Being with you… I could get obsessed with this feeling, you know?” 

He leaned down to kiss you yet again. He kissed you, giving you yet another helping of that impossibly lovely taste: his taste. 

And then… then he brushed against your prostate, his cock like a mallet smashing into a button. Even slow, it sent a shock up your spine and a resulting heat through your nerves. Your loud, vulgar moans were taken with great joy and adoration from Henry, his smile only growing fonder. 

“You sound so good, Y/N. Let it out for me…” 

Perhaps you took it a tad too far as your cock, with the pressure to your prostate, burst with another spray of hot, sticky cum that painted both tour and Henry’s stomachs. Such a reaction was met with a warm laughter. 

“Not what I meant, but I’m not complaining. It’s good to know you feel good, baby.” 

He leaned in for yet another kiss and, in the hypnotising exchange, you just barely processed a large, encapsulating hand taking hold of your cock. Henry began to spread your cum across your own shaft, using it to pump your still-sensitive cock towards unbearable pleasure. 

“I’m gonna keep making you feel good, okay?” 

Sweat had beaded all over your skin now, streams running down your body as Henry’s own dripped down and onto your frame. He was pushing just a bit faster now—you almost couldn’t take the wait any longer. That once painful stretch had evolved into pleasure. It had evolved from a burning heat contained to your ass and spread into this resounding, unending warmth washing through you. In the process, it had devolved you into a writhing, moaning mess.

His cock was large, that was certainly clear. It was the kind of large that made your stomach bulge, the kind that you knew you wouldn’t ever be able to take with ease no matter how many times it had fucked you. And shit, you hoped that it would fuck you so, so many more times. 

But your composure only broke down further when his cock seemed to reach so impossibly deep inside, spreading your insides apart like it was trying to break you. Moan after moan fell out as your back arched involuntarily, only accentuating the bulge in your stomach. 

“Baby? Y/N?” 

You hadn’t even realised it, but Henry had stopped pushing himself deeper. Now, as he buried into what felt like the core of you and sent waves of electrifying heat with even the slightest twitch of his dick, his hips were flush against yours. He had bottomed out. 

“Henry…” 

Words other than the man’s name didn’t seem to be able to form. He, however, had so much to say. 

“Fuck, you’re amazing, Y/N. You’re taking me so damn well…” 

The hand not on your cock let go of your face and glided down your body, tracing lines down your shaking body, and stopped just over the bulging portion of your stomach. He brushed it gently, causing yet another crackle of electricity to wrack through you.

“Can… can I start to move?” 

Oh, you could’ve broken your neck with how fast you agreed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Shit, shit! You feel so damn good, Y/N.” 

Henry’s calm demeanour had taken a backseat. It was still there, in careful touches to your face and sweet caresses of your body. You could still hear it in every little praise he threw out, and every loving glance he gave your half-lidded eyes. 

His hips, though, had practically lost any form of restraint. 

He withdrew and pushed back in with speed and force, hips slamming with a harsh and sharp slap. Your ass felt sore by this point, but it was a warm, comfortable soreness when paired with the sheer, blinding pleasure of Henry’s cock. 

By the gods, the pleasure was insane. It was driving you mad, your vision going white. His cock, no matter how many times it was thrust into you, remained impossibly large and impossibly deep-reaching. It felt as though it only went deeper and deeper with each push, a result of your fractured state. 

But how could one stay sane when their body was being overwhelmed with such unimaginable pleasure. 

As drool began to spill and your eyes rolled back, Henry was quick to grab you by the chin and lock you into yet another kiss. Unlike the times before, though it carried the same sweetness, it was now heavy with a hunger, a need. He hungered for you, and he needed to fucking ruin you. 

And Henry’s a man who accomplishes his goals, isn’t he? He began thrusting into your harder, harsher than he had before. He thrust over and over and over again, his movements without a single missed beat or second of hesitation. 

His kisses remained constant too. His thick, strong tongue had shoved its way past your pretty lips and began to gnash against your tongue. It was a strange but nonetheless mind numbingly good feeling to have him invade your body even further. 

By now, his grip had transferred to and firmed on your hips. He kept you nice and planted in place on that damn sturdy desk of his, even as each thrust threatened its integrity. His pace was relentless, the wood starting to creak with his forcefulness. 

He drew back, saliva still stringing your mouth and his. 

“Y-you feel good, Y/N?” 

Who knew this man could stutter? But fuck, he made it sound hot. He sounded so lost in the pleasure, and even then, so firm in his every word. 

“Y-yes!” 

He gave a crooked smile at your words. 

“Good! Do you like the way I taste, Y/N? The way my spit tastes?” 

How vulgar was that? And how vulgar was it that, the second you tried to respond with a very clear yes, he decided to drop a fat glob of hot spit onto your cheek? He brought his thumb up to rub it into your skin and, hell, you were about to thank him for it. 

You couldn’t as he cut you off with yet another breathtaking kiss. You were left panting and unable to speak at all when he pulled away.

“You’re a whore, you know? A beautiful, obedient, whore.” 

His words carried no malice, only a heavy lust that he was just barely stopping from pushing him towards ruining your body completely. 

“But you’re my whore, alright? Don’t you ever fucking forget.” 

He slapped your cheek. It wasn’t one of anger, moreso just trying to snap you into focus. He wanted an answer and, as his best and favourite student, he knew he would get a reply out of you. 

“I-I’m your whore, sir!” 

It was a miracle you could speak, really. It was especially miraculous because the second he heard that, with one resounding slam of his hips into yours, you felt it. 

“Fuck, Y/N!”

In the moment, as you arched your back and let your mouth flow with moans at the highest possible volume, Henry’s cock pumped gush after gush of burning hot, viscous, cum. 

It felt like molten steel, an impossible extreme of everything that semen was meant to be. And as such, it brought the pleasure you felt from having your stomach pumped full of it to a high that you could never reach with any drug imaginable. 

And through it, his hips hadn’t chosen to stop. Every thrust was now being punctuated with a new load of cum filling your already full belly, each one followed then with another slap to your ass or lust-driven proclamation of love. 

“God, I love your tight fucking ass-”

You were screaming as you came at the height of the moment’s intensity.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You weren’t sure when the night ended, exactly. It seemed that the man had fucked you for hours on end, until he had emptied his fat balls’ storage of cum and filled your belly with it. He had fucked you till your cock hurt, and each climax produced a dry orgasm due to empty tanks. 

He had fucked you till you were left unable to think of anything but his cock and the taste of his sweet, delicious lips.  

And now, he was buried deep inside you still, pressing kiss after kiss to your neck as you desperately gasped for air. 

“Did I go too hard? Are you hurt, Y/N?” 

Your body was, in fact, aching. It was this numb, almost muffled pain that was eclipsed—or perhaps even part of—this euphoric pleasure that continued to grasp you. Things no longer felt real, at this point, but a dream you’d rather not wake from. 

But things were very much reality, and that included a high-off-sex and full-of-affection Henry. 

“I apologise for the slaps, they were rather forceful…” 

You managed out a shake of the head to signal a no. The laugh that he gave, boisterous yet quiet, made your heart pound again. 

“I see. I suppose we’ll need ample time to explore what we both enjoy, hm?” 

The idea of more time with Henry, more time doing this, was certainly exciting. He didn’t need more than your dumb little smile, one you couldn’t wipe off your face even if you wanted or tried to, to tell you thought. 

“I can see you like the prospect, hm?” 

Another chuckle and another kiss. What bliss this was. 

“I’m going to pull out now, so that we can both get cleaned up, okay? Just breathe for me, Y/N, just like earlier.” 

You tried to follow, you really did. But as your hole was quickly left empty, gaping and clenching around nothing, you couldn’t help but whine unintelligible mutterings. Henry responded with even more pecks to your lips and caresses to your soft, delicate skin. 

Henry was certainly a gentleman. He had taken some tissues from the box he reserved for students with colds and used then to to clean the outer portion of your sloppy hole. His hands, as large as they were, moved soft and delicate, careful not to press against any overly sensitive parts. 

He had taken to cleaning himself—drying his cock, much to your dismay, with more paper towels. He had noticed your sadness and, with an admittedly smug smirk, said he’d allow you to suck his cock clean next time. It was still strange, even after the night you had had with him, to hear such lewd language uttered from the refined man’s mouth.

By the time he had dressed himself, your breathing had steadied. Your backside was still sore and leaking, but he had promised to help with that back at his apartment. 

Wait.

His apartment? 

“Ah, would you rather not? I can clean you up in the facilities here and-” 

“No, no! I’d-”

You coughed. All the sweat, mixed with what was now cool night air, had left your body just a tad sick. Well, that and the exhaustion from having taken on such an impossible task and cock. 

“-love to. I’d love to go home with you, Henry.” 

He smiled like he hadn’t heard anything quite as lovely before. You smiled back in return. 

He was the eager to tug on your boxers and wrap you in his suit jacket as a means of decency. He lifted you up bridal-style and pressed a kiss to your forehead. The man was strong and, with the ease that was carrying you, he even held your folded clothing in the hand supporting your butt. 

You even found the strength to be humorous in the moment, letting out a joking, “Ooh, strong guy, huh?” 

He graced you yet again with one of those pure, unadulterated laughs.

“I’m glad to have had this one on one session with you, Y/N. Certainly was productive, wasn’t it?”

THANK YOU to my lovely beta readers! There's a shit ton GAHAH

@inhumanshadows @worstwolverinesbf @darlingminjin @alatrysev @starboye @spermeboy @starrykie @sleep-0-deprived @slytherslvt @kurominis

Love you all :D you're all soooo nice and helped me finish this with your kind comments! Hope I didn't let you down with the end :>

[riddlemelater]

Above Me - M.R

⚠︎ all characters 18+ | MDNI ⚠︎

masterlist | nav | part 2

summary: It was supposed to be simple—just sex, no strings, no expectations. Mattheo didn’t do attachments, and you weren’t looking to fix him. But the lines are starting to blur, and neither of you are willing to admit it.

word count: 4.8k

warnings: unprotected p in v, smut, slight dom!mattheo, fem! reader, dirty talk, praise, use of pet names, emotional repression, fwb type relationship.

a/n: first time writing for Mattheo, and my first post here! let me know what you think. all likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! ✯

How the arrangement started didn’t matter, only that it worked. You both had something to gain. For Mattheo, it was low maintenance and high reward. You never outstayed your welcome, and he never lingered. Just a wink, a smirk, and a muttered "Same time tomorrow?" That was the deal.

It was guaranteed satisfaction without the risk of raised expectations— and even if they did catch feelings, he'd crush them the next day when he acted like they never existed.

He'd leave them tangled in his sheets and smirking by breakfast, already moving on before their names could stick. You'd seen how he operated — quick, careless, and never around long enough to deal with a morning-after attachment. He didn't want to be fixed, he just wanted someone willing.

And who was more suited for his needs than you.

Of course, no one would suspect a thing — not that he would care if they did anyway, he was practically fluent in attracting unwanted attention. But you, well you were the perfect solution to his little problem. Ever the golden girl of his little band of misfits, all soft smiles and sharper words. You were in a league of your own, far better than he deserved, and Mattheo loved defying the odds.

You suppose Mattheo had become a friend, in the loosest sense of the word. Unfortunately for you, loyalty to Pansy outweighed your indifference to him and his equally debauched friends. And as Pansy and Draco had resumed their on-again-off-again relationship— truly a mystery to all involved— you'd found yourself in his company more often than not.

With Pansy gravitating towards her blonde disaster of a boyfriend, your meals were punctuated by tales of Mattheo's latest sexual trysts. Your evenings, usually spent solely with Pansy, were now hijacked by the overwhelming stench of testosterone and crudeness.

Eventually, you ended up at the very centre of it all—behind everyone else's backs. And really, who were you to look a gift horse in the mouth?

✯ ✯ ✯

"Psst."

It took his third, maybe fourth, attempt to catch your attention. Reluctantly, you lifted your gaze from the parchment you'd been taking notes on, only to be met with his dark eyes.

You glanced past him toward the front of the room, where Professor Binnes — as lively as ever — was drifting lazily by the chalkboard. The chalk screeching faintly against the board, its dry scratch slicing through his relentless drone.

Clearly, the ghostly professor was either unaware or unbothered that half the class had taken his lecture as an opportunity to doze off, quills abandoned mid-sentence and parchment stained with ink blots where their hands had slumped. The remaining half, which was very few, were barely pretending to care about the painfully dull history of the 1289 Warlock Convention— a truly mind-numbing subject even by Binnes’ usual standards.

Mattheo kicked back in his chair at the desk in front of you, the very picture of disinterest whilst he twisted his wand between his fingers— the cool glint of his Riddle signet ring flashing each time his hand twisted in a hypnotic rhythm.

Beside him Lorenzo looked to be fast asleep, cheek squished against the back of his hand, practically drooling onto the untouched textbook in front of him. The lack of his usual elegance had you fighting back a shaky laugh. Your eyes drifted back to Mattheo, his head tilted against the back of the chair, a lazy sort of grin tugging at his lips.

"What?" you mouthed, lifting your quill in a vaguely annoyed gesture, as if to ask why he was interrupting you in the first place. But you already knew the answer, he was bored and without Enzo to entertain him, you were next in line.

Not that you were a swot. You certainly weren’t a teacher's pet either. But unlike Mattheo, you actually planned on leaving Hogwarts with something to show for it. A goal he openly mocked anytime someone dared remind him he still had exams to sit— Dark Lord’s heir or not.

Mattheo didn't reply, not with words anyway. He just grinned, clearly amused, watching you shake your head and continue writing down names and policies Binnes’ mentioned. Just because he wasn’t working didn’t mean that you had to stop. A fact you reminded yourself of firmly when flipping the pages of your textbook with extra purpose.

And that sentiment lasted… all of thirty seconds.

Before his face reappeared in your peripherals, far closer than you’d have liked, arm braced on your desk, body turned entirely to face you. Waiting with that stupid smirk on his face.

"What do you want, Mattheo?" you sighed, keeping your voice low to not disturb Binnes dulcet groans. You leaned back slightly, meeting his eyes with an unimpressed stare. He smirked in retaliation— of course he did— that same glint in his eyes you’d come to recognise all too well.

Nothing good ever followed that look.

"Why do you think I always want something, hmm?" He asked, idly toying with the corner of your parchment.

His gaze didn’t waver, and you realised almost immediately what this was about but you wouldn’t say it. If he wanted your attention then he could ask for it himself. His lips parted, like he was about to elaborate but you beat him to it.

"Because you do always want something."

Mattheo’s jaw dropped open playfully, putting a hand to his chest in feigned offence. “Harsh. I was just trying to be friendly.”

“You don’t know how to be friendly.” You retorted, shooting him a flat look.

He grinned — wider now, all teeth and trouble. Like you’d walked right into his web. And in a sense you had, falling for his pestering and giving him the satisfaction of stealing your attention, even momentarily.

“Sure I do. I think you’ll find I’m being very friendly right now. Offering you a break. A bit of stimulating conversation. Emotional support during this soul-draining lecture.”

You glanced towards the front of the classroom, where Professor Binnes was still rambling on, utterly oblivious to his wilting audience. Most had committed to sleep now, heads tucked into folded arms. You envied them.

“You. Emotional support. Right.” You scoffed dryly, turning back to your parchment and suppressing the urge to roll your eyes.

But Mattheo didn’t retreat. If anything, he leaned in closer, close enough that you caught the faint mix of smoke and amber that clung to his robes, a scent so unmistakably him.

“You busy later?” He eventually asked, voice low enough not to attract any attention.

You kept your eyes on your notes, dipping your quill into the ink pot impassively. “I will be, if you carry on talking and ruin my notes.”

He clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Not very friendly of you.”

You didn’t dignify him with a response, knowing he was looking to get under your skin. Instead you hummed, underlined a random sentence in your textbook and forced a blank expression that gave nothing away. The quill scratching at your parchment a welcomed distraction from the brief silence.

“Anyway,” he pressed, still frustratingly close, “Thought you might want to come by tonight. Usual time.”

At this, your gaze finally raised from your parchment, mouth agape. “Is that what this little performance is about?”

He shrugged. “Can’t a guy check on what’s his?”

Sometimes you really couldn’t believe the gall of him. His. Heat rose in your cheeks. Part of you wished to retort sharply, to remind him nothing about you was his, but the words stuck in your throat.

“Not in the middle of class.” You said quietly, a little feeble in comparison to what you wanted to say.

“See, love, that's where you're wrong.”

You narrowed your eyes, trying to keep up the mask of indifference, but your lip twitched just slightly. You cursed yourself for it, but it was already too late. He noticed of course, he always noticed.

Mattheo leaned back at last, victory written all over his face. “I’ll take that as a yes."

Immediately you wanted to say no, to cut him dead and laugh him off. Deny him the satisfaction of being right, but as you deliberated he could already see it in your eyes.

"I'll see you later, darling,” he said resolutely, and with that he turned back around, not waiting for your response. You could practically see the smugness radiating from him as he rested his chin on folded arms and fell still. Meanwhile, you tried not to stare daggers into the back of his head, or let your gaze linger on his dark curls too long.

✯ ✯ ✯

It was past midnight when you slipped through the dungeon entrance, an old quidditch jumper thrown over your clothes to guard against the castle's evening chill. The halls were quiet, eerie almost, but that didn't calm your racing pulse as you padded through the corridors, footsteps echoing off the stone floors.

You knew the route like the back of your hand. Left at the suit of armour, down the hallway where the sconces flickered more than glowed. A familiar path to his secret little hideaway— one of many, you'd learned. Merlin forbid Mattheo Riddle ever be predictable.

Your hand pushed one of the doors on the left open, the hardly used hinges creaking as they worked, revealing an old classroom that wasn't in use much anymore, forgotten and dusty until Mattheo had stumbled upon it — or so he said anyway.

He was there already, sprawled out across a transfigured leather couch, legs stretched out like he owned the place. His tie was gone, his shirt unbuttoned just enough that his collarbone peaked out from behind the crisp white material, and his sleeves were pushed carelessly up to his elbows. He looked relaxed, carefree almost. Like he hadn't interrupted your entire evening because of something so trivial as he was bored.

"You're late." He said, not looking at you as he flicked his wand lazily toward a cluster of objects on the desk beside him. An ink pot, a feather quill, and what looked suspiciously like one of your hair ties hovered in the air, slowly orbiting each other like planets. His wand spun idly between his fingers as if there was barely a thought behind the magic.

"I wasn't aware you were timing me," you replied, shutting the door behind you with a gentle push. "You asked. I showed up. Don't push your luck."

At that he finally looked up, smirking at your deadpan expression. "You know, most people are a bit happier to see me."

You scoffed. Typical Mattheo arrogance. "Keep dreaming, Riddle."

He didn't reply. Instead, he flicked his wand and let the objects fall one by one— the ink pot thudded against the armrest, the quill floated down to the floor, and your hair tie was caught lazily between his forefinger and his thumb. He flicked it aside with a grin, watching your lips part, every inch of him smug and lethargic. Then, he patted the spot beside him on the couch like he was coaxing a dog to jump up beside him.

You stayed rooted to the spot. In half a mind to turn around and walk straight back to bed. But you didn't move an inch despite yourself.

"I don't bite," he said, lips twitching with amusement like he could see the conflict in your eyes, "...unless you ask nicely."

"I'm fine here, thanks." Your eyes rolled.

"Suit yourself then," he shrugged, leaning his head back against the armrest, eyes fluttering shut. "Rough day?"

You blinked. Since when did he care how your day was? You studied him for a moment, the sharpness of his jaw softened by the flames that danced in the small fireplace. He didn't open his eyes.

"Just... long." you admitted after a pause, voice quieter than you meant it to be. Still a little startled by his sudden interest in how you day had been.

He hummed in response, a mix of acknowledgement and a noncommittal invitation to say more. But he didn't push, just let the silence settle, surprisingly comfortable despite the tension.

After a moment, and an intense inner debate, you crossed the classroom and dropped onto the couch beside him, making sure to leave just enough room between you. He cracked one eye open and smirked slyly.

"Change of heart, love?"

"Oh, shut up." you hissed but there was no malice in your words, leaning back into the leather and letting the plush cushions absorb you. Your own eyes fluttering shut and exhaling a deep sigh.

You both sat there in the thick quiet, the flames painting restless shadows across the stone. Neither one of you spoke and you weren't sure who was more stubborn, him for not breaking the silence, or you for refusing to ask what he was thinking.

It was always like this between you. Charged, flirty, messy— but when all the noise fell away, all that remained was this gnawing stillness. The kind that burrowed into your stomach, sickening even to think about.

Eventually, he exhaled sounding both sharp and tired. “You know, you don’t have to keep showing up.”

You didn’t look at him, eyes still firmly shut. “Is that your way of uninviting me?”

You couldn't see him but you could picture the expression on his face, and when he scoffed you knew there was no real bite to it. None of the usual malice or teasing. "I'm just saying... if you're expecting anything— anything more. Then don't."

It was your turn to scoff, peeling your eyes open and turning your head slowly to face him, his eyes meeting yours instantly. "I'm not."

“Good,” he said in a flat tone. He turned his head away again, but the silence that followed didn’t feel easy this time. It pressed in from all sides, too loud, too sharp. You didn’t know what you hated more—that he meant it, or that you did too.

"Good." you reiterated with a slight nod of the head, letting the silence burn for a moment longer.

You leaned in first, perhaps it was out of spite but more likely because you were tired of talking. He met you halfway, mouth crashing against yours in that now-familiar kind of desperation. His lips were bruising, and so were yours, like it was a silent competition where both of you were trying to win something.

His hands quickly found their place, one skirting up to grasp the side of your jaw whilst the other settled at the curve of your knee, dragging your body closer to his. His tongue darted out, licking a stripe across your bottom lip, demanding entry and you opened to him without hesitation.

Mattheo hummed approvingly, sinking himself backwards till his head hit the armrest once more, pulling you down with him till you were straddling his hips. You panted softly, pulling away from his lips for just a second whilst dragging your core against his jeans hazy and slow.

Your fingers fumbled blindly with the buttons of his shirt, pulling till the fabric parted, bearing him to your hungry gaze. He let out a hiss at the feeling of your nails dragging across his abdomen slowly, teasing him.

Still, his mouth was glued to yours, tongue lapping eagerly against your own, another unspoken fight for dominance. His hips bucked impatiently against you, drawing a moan from your lips that had him smirking into the kiss.

Your hands roamed instinctively, mapping the taut lines of his chest like you'd done a dozen times before — only this time it felt different, sharper somehow. Like each brush of his skin was dragging something raw from you.

He pulled back just enough to speak, breath ghosting over your slightly swollen lips. "Still not expecting anything?" he murmured, voice rough and teasing.

You exhaled a sharp laugh, leaning forward and mouthing at the curve of his jaw, dragging your teeth across his skin, down his throat until you found that spot that drove him insane, and sunk your teeth into it. Hard. With a low groan he tilted his head back, his fingers tightening at your hips as he cursed.

"Didn't think so." he breathed with a dry laugh, groaning once more as you pressed open-mouthed kisses to the tender skin.

You would've laughed if you weren't so focused, heart beating quickly and a familiar ache building between your thighs. Your teeth nipped at his collarbones, hands sliding down to the waistband of his jeans, fingers dipping just low enough to hear the satisfying sound of his breath catching.

He bucked his hips up once more, more desperate this time, and you relished the power you had over him, watching him lose that razor-sharp composure he always wore. It might've been intimate if it was with anyone else, but Mattheo Riddle didn't do intimacy, this meant nothing.

"Insufferable," he mumbled, dragging his lips down the side of your throat teasingly. "Fucking— impossible."

"And yet," you whispered lowly, voice dangerous and sultry, "You keep letting me in."

His breath hitched. Another low groan. And there it was again— that flicker of something just beneath the surface, something dangerous. Vulnerable. Real. You felt it like a thread between your bodies, pulled taut and impossible to ignore.

But before either of you acknowledged it, his mouth was on yours again, swallowing any words that might've slipped out in the heat of the moment. It was frantic, less like kissing and more like trying to consume each other. Like he was trying to erase whatever had just threatened to bubble to the surface.

His mouth moved feverishly against yours, all tongue and teeth, until suddenly he pulled back, panting. Your breath caught, lips swollen, eyes blinking open in confusion. Staring up at him with furrowed brows.

Mattheo's gaze was heavy, dark and lustful. His hands tightened against your hips, but he didn't move, he just stared like he was trying to figure out whether to devour you now or drag it out till you were begging.

"You done showing off, princess?" he asked in a low voice, rough with arousal but edged in something cooler. More dangerous.

You blinked, tilting your head innocently. "What?"

He chuckled, slow and wicked. "Acting like you're in charge. Cute, really. But you and I both know how this ends."

You didn't get the chance to argue back. One moment you were straddling him, the next he was pushing himself upright, shifting you easily onto your back against the couch, and looming over you. All in one fluid motion.

You let out a noise as he pushed a palm against your chest. Not harsh, but just enough to remind you he could pin you against the leather if he wanted to. And Merlin, judging by the look in his eyes, he wanted to.

His head dipped down again, kissing up your throat. "Open your legs for me," he murmured against your throat, tongue dragging across your pulse point. "That's it. Atta girl."

The praise fell effortlessly from his lips as you moved beneath him, sending a shiver straight through you intensifying the ache between your thighs. He noticed, of course, and his grin widened.

"Always so good for me," he continued mockingly, sliding his hand beneath the fabric of your jumper, the tips of his fingers brushing against the bare skin of your stomach. "Always act like you don't need this, like I don't own every fucking inch of you."

Your moan cut him off as his fingers slipped a little lower, dipping under your skirt and teasing the edge of your underwear. He chuckled darkly like that sound alone confirmed everything he already knew.

"That's what I thought, princess."

He kissed you again, but slower this time. Lethargic, almost. Like he wanted to savour the control he had over you. His fingers curled under the fabric of your clothes like he had all the time in the world. Like he was the only thing that mattered.

And if the way your body was reacting to him now was anything to go by, he was.

Your world narrowed to the weight of his body pressed on top of you, the heat of his hands, the drag of his lips across your hot skin. Mattheo’s teeth scraped just below your jawline and paused there as if marking the spot for later. His hand splayed out across your stomach. Fingers moving in slow, taunting circles, not quite giving you what you wanted.

“You know what I like about you?” He spoke, words slurred into your skin as he peeled away at the layers covering you. “You’re always trying so hard to pretend you’re above this… above me.”

You let out a shaky breath and his lips curved against your collarbones, listening to your needy whimpers as his fingers stroked closer and closer to where you craved his touch most.

“But then you come crawling back every time, don’t you?” He added, his voice tinged in faux sweetness that made your stomach flip. “So fucking needy for it… even if you won’t admit it.”

His hand finally breached your underwear, skimming over the wet fabric of your panties with a maddeningly light touch. The pads of his fingers swiped across the dampness that had gathered, and he knew he had you then. Light touches that were just enough to make your hips rock against his fingers, your pupils blown wide with lust.

“Look at that,” he cooed, smirking at your trembling lips. Smugly basking in the gasp that came from somewhere deep in your throat as his fingers pressed light circles around your clit.

At the same time he leaned down and pressed his lips to your throat, kissing and nipping the skin as he went. His nose brushed against the hollow of your neck, and you knew he could feel your pulse— fast and erratic— which only made him chuckle against your skin.

“Please,” you whispered hoarsely, head thrown back and eyes screwed shut. It was maddening how easily he could get you like this. How simple it was to have you trembling and greedy for him.

A wrecked-sounding curse tore from his throat at your plea, his hand curling under your thigh and tugging it around his waist so he could settle between your legs, pressing his still-clothed, hardening cock flush against you. Then he rolled his hips, slow and deliberate, dragging a broken moan from you.

“Begging already?” He smirked, pressing his forehead to yours his chest heaving. You knew he was savouring this, enjoying how you crumbled from a few swipes of his fingers.

“Mattheo…” you moaned impatiently, meeting his darkened eyes as another string of plea’s left your lips.

That was all it took to convince him. Sitting back quickly, his hands worked at his belt to free his cock from its constraints. The sight of him before you, all needy and desperate, had you whining. Eyes fixed on the bead of pre-come already gathering at the tip as he stroked himself eagerly, hissing at the feeling.

“Merlin you look perfect like this… so wrecked for me.” He muttered, tugging your panties down your legs with little care for where they landed. You could only gasp in anticipation, watching his face as he guided his cock towards your aching cunt.

You hissed as he rocked his hips forward in one sharp motion, your walls pushing against him as he pressed forward. Groaning as he sunk deeper into you, his eyes fluttering shut as you adjusted to the stretch.

“Fuck, look at you— taking me so well.” He praised leaning down to press a messy kiss against your lips. You clenched around him, feeling the pain receding.

Mattheo groaned softly as he pulled out then thrust into your cunt once more, sending ripples of pleasure through your body and coaxing another moan to tumble from your mouth. Slowly he found his pace, hips rutting in a lazy rhythm against yours.

Sighing softly he fucked into you, his face buried into the crook of your neck, sucking bruises onto the skin you’d have to hide tomorrow. His steady pace made you see stars already, but you needed more. He made you insatiable.

“That all you got, Riddle?” You choked out when his hips stuttered for a beat, temporarily losing his rhythm. And you regretted it immediately.

“Oh,” he retorted, breath hot against your ear, “Is this not good enough for you, Princess?” He mocked, punctuating his words with a hard thrust, pleased with himself when you whined at the sudden change of pace.

His fingers wrapped around your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand, and then his hips snapped forward, hard enough to knock the air from your lungs. His grip tightened and he leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

Another sharp thrust had your back arching off the couch, a strangled sound catching in your throat. He didn’t give you a moment to recover—his rhythm turned punishing, relentless, like he was trying to make a point with every motion.

“That better?” he growled, eyes flicking down to watch the way you writhed beneath him, the knot in your stomach building. “That what you wanted, sweetheart? For me to remind you who you belong to?”

You bit your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of begging. But your body betrayed you—hips tilting up into his, quiet gasps slipping from your lips. He chuckled low in his chest, satisfied that he was the only person who could see you like this.

“Thought so,” he breathed, releasing your wrists so his hands could trail down your sides, slow and deliberate. His large hands brushing across the curve of your hips. “All that attitude, and now look at you…” he tutted. He caught your jaw in his hand, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. His gaze burned into yours, full of heat and something hungrier underneath. All his attention focused on watching you shatter beneath him, and you did. Hard.

Eventually, the frantic rhythm slowed. Mattheo's breath was hot against your bare shoulder, his chest heaving with exertion as he dragged his lips across the side of your neck one final time and came with a near-animalistic growl.

Neither of you spoke. Panting, he collapsed on top of you, sweaty and spent. The only sound was the quiet crackle of the fire that had burnt down to embers, and the rush of blood in your ears.

You stared up at the ceiling, a hand resting in his damp curls, your chest still rising and falling in shallow waves. Mattheo hadn't moved, hadn't said a word— just lay there with his face buried against your neck like he didn't want to face the aftermath.

Your fingers twitched in his hair, and you knew you should say something. That you should shove him off and make a joke, brush it off with a biting remark that made him smirk like usual. Make it easier for yourself.

"Mattheo," you said softly, not a question or a plea. Just his name. He shifted at that, enough to pull back and glance down at you. In his fucked-out haze, his eyes were softer— less shielded. Like there was something fragile in his face, buried beneath all the sharp edges and scars.

Then his jaw clenched and he pushed himself up without ceremony, pulling out of you like his body suddenly weighed too much. He didn't look at you as he reached for his discarded shirt and pulled it on with jerky, irritated movements.

The silence was thick between you, loud and obtrusive. You sat up, wincing slightly, and began gathering your clothes. The smell of cigarette smoke filled the air and his back was to you— deliberately. You could feel it in the set of his shoulders, the stiffness of his posture, like he was holding back.

As you made your way toward the door, you glanced back once. He was leaning against the mantel now, head bowed, cigarette perched between his swollen lips, gaze fixed on the dying embers in the grate. He didn't look at you.

You knew you had to leave. The tension was suffocating, and the silence between you had stretched too thin. Your chest tightened, but you forced the words out before you could lose your nerve.

"I'm not here to fix you," you said quietly, barely loud enough over the crackle, and for a moment you didn't think he'd heard you. He didn't flinch, but something in his posture shifted— just a flicker, then it was gone.

“Didn’t ask you to,” he murmured, the words rough and worn at the edges like they cost him something to say. And somehow, that hurt worse.

The smoke curled around him like armor as you reached for the handle and walked out into the darkness, leaving the door open long enough for the silence to follow you out.

©️riddlemelater 2025.

[baeshijima]

okay so i have kind of but not really met anaxa in game but !!

anaxa x sunshine reader.

like... renown infamous genius scholar anaxagoras who doesn’t take anything from anyone is almost akin to a cat when with you, putting on an adamant front only to crumble and — begrudgingly, he tries to stress, though he really isn't fooling anyone, much less himself — ultimately give in to your whims; answering your mundane questions, listening and providing his own quips (sometimes sincere, often snappy) here and there to your endless rambles, trailing behind you hot on your heels only to eventually catch up to your side as you wander off to who knows where, yammering on about who knows what.

(you're planning to visit okhema, is what he gathered from your animated retelling of some bakery you'd heard from word-of-mouth which was supposed to be good. hah! why would you waste your time on such trivialities when you could be graced with the honour of his tutelage on the topic of free speech and— curses, how did you get so far ahead?)

in spite of his… less than successful attempts to thwart these pesky thoughts and feelings from festering within, anaxagoras long since knew the irreversible truth brought by your appearance in his life — from the very first moment you bumped into him amid your haste, stray papers sent flying as the large leather-bound books thudded against the library floor. the less-than-flattering slew of words initally locked and loaded, ready to be spewed, oddly dissipated on the tip of his tongue the second he saw your frantic expression, hasty movements in re-gathering the strewn papers, and clumsy set of apologies spilling from your lips. it was almost trance-like, the manner in which he kneeled as he began to collect the flyaway papers surrounding him.

after returning them to you with a kindly, “who runs in a narrow hallway? watch where you’re going next time, you may not be so fortunate with the next collision,” anaxa naively thought that would be the end of that. he did not foresee running into you more frequently from thereafter, feeling strangely moved as a foreign warmth settled within every time you never failed to greet him with a beaming grin, eventually accompanied by the, dare he speculate after months upon months of pouring over and overanalysing your interactions, affectionate tone when calling his name. having been subject to the numerous days— weeks, even — spent listening to your attempts at correctly pronouncing his name, anaxa really should be immune to the effects. unfortunately for him, he could not be any further from the truth.

(anaxa chooses to ignore how he purposely nitpicked your pronunciation, extending the time spent teaching you how to do so just to hear you say his name a little more. not his proudest moment, but he finds it worth all the extra effort when you greet him as such, his name seamlessly rolling off your tongue coupled with your starry eyes and rapturing cadence as you ramble om about whatever caught your interest that day.)

perhaps he should have expected this outcome. after all, for someone who enjoys his solitude, anaxa has caught himself seeking you out on more occasions than deemed appropriate for mere acquaintances. no, not even friends would be this forefront. it was a predetermined outcome, anaxa deduces, the way in which your presence endlesslh draws him in like a shadow to a light— a moth to a flame.

if only to see your blinding smile directed towards and caused by him, anaxa supposes he wouldn't mind your nonsensical chatter replacing the usual white noise droning on in the background. for how long? well, for as long as he continues to breathe seems sufficient enough.

(you ought to stop entertaining some of those foolish scholars, however. they really are not worth wasting a second more than necessary on when he himself has far more knowledge and wit they do combined.)

[terror-tonic]

My takes on the doughboys! (Rambling under cut)

MATTHEW

I know he’s described as charismatic, but I think Matthew is a bit of a loser honestly. What adults consider charismatic and what children consider charismatic are two wildly different worlds, and I think Matthew is firmly in the former.

He’s good with the younger kids- he reads to them, helps them with their schoolwork (to the best of his ability), and comforts/cheers them up when they’re feeling down. But baby talk and hugs don’t work on everyone, and while no one dislikes Matthew, the older kids definitely see him as a bit of a teacher’s pet and don’t try very hard to include him in their activities.

If he’s not spending time with the younger kids, then he’s with the caretakers and counselors helping around Playcare. Every staff member in the place absolutely adores him, and several have asked him to consider joining the team when he ages out. (When, not if. They never say if.)

Despite how “adult” Matthew tries to seem, he suffers from anxiety and trauma from the car accident that killed his parents. In times of high-stress, Matthew has a small tremor, mainly focused in his hands and arms. He also has poor balance and coordination, also stemming from injuries sustained in the accident.

Matthew cared deeply about every child in Playcare, seeing them as the younger siblings he never had. It came as a surprise to everyone when he was suddenly “chosen”- no fanfare, no goodbyes, just there one day and gone the next.

KEVIN

Playcare’s “problem child”, Kevin was taken in by Playtime Co. after his parents were arrested primarily as a publicity stunt, one they would quickly come to regret when they realized Kevin wasn’t a “quiet and shy” type of traumatized child.

Kevin’s odd mannerisms and cagey nature made it hard for him to make friends. Other children and adults alike mistook his flat expressions and lack of eye contact as disinterest or passive-aggressiveness, or worse, disrespect. Due to this, he would often be isolated from the other children, have entertainment privileges revoked, or have his possessions taken away by staff.

All of this only fed into his belief that adults couldn’t be trusted, and soon he began isolating himself of his own volition, becoming aggressive when others tried to approach him. Kevin began skipping school and other mandatory activities frequently, often ending up in the Game Station.

Kevin was repeatedly caught and brought back to Playcare, but even after lengthy punishments and increased security, he did not stop escaping. On one occasion, he was found in the Game Station by Dr. Sawyer, who was impressed at his scores, which were significantly higher than any others.

Much to Playcare’s dismay, Dr. Sawyer organized for Kevin to be able to visit the Game Station whenever he wanted, and wrote him a “hall pass” to show to security when he was questioned. All Dr. Sawyer asked was that Kevin continue to improve his scores, and he obeyed until he was “chosen”.

JACK

Poor, sweet Jackie, gone before his time due to a safety rail failure. The death of Jack Ayers is an unfortunate stain on the company’s history, a horrible tragedy that was entirely the fault of Warrenbach Construction for improperly installing the catwalks and railings of the dough production room.

Mr. Ayers passed in his sleep due to a heart attack shortly after the incident, and Mrs. Ayers was institutionalized shortly after her husband’s death. In wake of the tragedy, Playtime Co. generously offered to cover the cost of Mr. Ayers’ funeral and Mrs. Ayers’ medical care.

—

When Jack awoke within Subject 1322, he was incredibly distressed. 1322 spent five hours screaming for his “Mommy” and “Daddy” before it was sedated via Red Smoke due to employee complaints. Upon reawakening, 1322 spent the next three days curled in on itself, muttering to itself seemingly in an attempt to self-soothe.

[misssakuramochi]

FIELDS OF MISTRIA HEADCANONS

General Smut Headcanons featuring The Bachelors

Minors DNI - Smut below the cut 🍋

(Minors interacting with this post will be blocked. Ty.)

Balor

xxx

○ Generally, Balor is dominant. Whether he's physically on top or not he prefers to feel in control of the situation and usually uses his words to keep it that way. He's a very verbal partner in terms of telling his partner what he wants and what he likes. Naturally he leans more towards softer domming and praise (thought he cant help but tease at least a little bit), but he's certainly not opposed to being rougher if asked nicely.

○ Balor is an extremely generous partner. He tends to keep people at an arms length and struggles to be vulnerable, which results more often than not in him feeling most comfortable sending his partner into fuzzy-headed bliss before they so much as lay hands on him. He also gets off on how hard he can get his partner off, honestly.

○ Balor is very experimental in the bedroom. He's tried his fair share of kinks and toys, and would absolutely introduce any ones he liked that his partner took interest in. Balor finds it incredibly hot when his partner suggests new things to try too. Balor is definitely happiest switching things up every now and again.

○ This man is the most agregious tease. One of Balor's favourite things to do is tease his partner in public (he can take it as well as he dishes it out unfortunately for anyone who tries to retaliate) until they drag him off somewhere, and he gives them what they're begging for until they're so overestimated they tap out. Of course, the aftercare is top notch.

○ Balor's fingers are absolutely divine. He knows how to use the rest of himself just fine, but he's adept with his hands. His almost unnatural ability to find the right way to press all the right spots as quickly as he does is almost uncanny. Balor takes a level of pride in how hard he can get a partner cumming on his fingers.

March

xxx

○ March is sexually inexperienced; as a result, he can be rather awkward about the subject and tends to fluster extremely quickly when it's brought up. The fact that he's insecure about his lack of experience doesn't help that fact either. A new partner has to be emotionally gentle with March for him to open up enough to sleep with them for the first time, but he's much more relaxed once it's happened.

○ While it may be a surprise to new partners because of how long it takes for March to have sex with them the first time, he actually has a very high sex drive. He's not always great at asking for what he wants, but he's almost never one to actually say no if his partner initiates. March might put up a tough front ('I'm too busy with work right now...' ect.) but literally any response (even opting to leave him to work) usually has him crumbling.

○ March is extremely passionate. The way he is 100% invested in his partner and the moment is almost overwhelming in the best possible way. As a result of getting so swept up in the moment March can get a bit rough without meaning to - though he's more mindful of this with a partner who tends to be sensitive. He also likes to be treated a little roughly - a little pain is just a little more pleasure for him.

○ This man 100% has a marking kink. March is absolutely the jealous type, and while he is aware of this enough to handle it like an adult (usually) it does make the idea of leaving physical marks on his partner very appealing to him. Hickies are a favourite of March's - just the idea of other people seeing the marks he left on his partner while he fucked them is enough to get him hard. He's rather fond of leaving red handprints on their ass too, if they'll let him. March likes receiving marks just as much, too - scratch him, bite him... as long as he can keep the souvenir he's a happy man.

○ March prefers positions where he can look his partner in the eye. He likes watching their expressions as they react to every movement he makes. A personal favourite of his is holding his partner against a wall with their legs around his waist; though, he's in no way opposed to missionary or being ridden.

Hayden

xxx

○ Hayden is the picture perfect romantic lover. He's 100% in it for the passion, emotion, and connection. He wants every time to be special and romantic because to him every time his partner allows him to be so close is special. Now, not every time is scented candles and rose petal pathways (sometimes they're daisies) but he does try to make his partner feel as loved as they truly are every time.

○ Hayden lives to give his partner head. While he's more than happy to get them off however they want, he has a borderline oral fixation. He could spend hours between his partners thighs quite happily. Honestly, if he's worked up enough, Hayden is liable to cum just from giving his partner head.

○ Hayden leans towards the more innocent-minded, and as such he doesn't think about sex crazy often on his own. That being said he's extremely easy to work up. Hayden is, physically speaking, extremely sensitive. He's strong and durable from working the farm, sure, but a few light touches to his inner thigh or a casual grind against him has him aching almost instantly. When he initiates its often much more thought out - spontaneity tends to lean to his partner's actions.

○ Hayden loves sex outdoors. Don't get me wrong: he's extremely private and not at all one for exhibitionism. There's just something about how connected he feels making love out in a beautiful natural spot that he can't get enough of, especially under the stars. Picnics at sunset at the edge of his farm often lead to him eating much more than snacks, so to speak.

○ Hayden is, to put it plainly, extremely loud. He has a hard time holding back vocally and, honestly, he doesn't want to. He loves letting his partner know how good they're making him feel - and he likes hearing them in turn. Between his outright moaning he loves to praise his partner for just about anything he can, and sometimes he'll even literally beg for his partner to move their hips just the way he likes, or to do that one thing with their tongue.

Ryis

xxx

○ Ryis is extremely gentle. While he is very passionate, and quite strong, Ryis is also almost overly aware of those facts. As a result he treats his partners gently and loves them softly. He prefers a position that let's him kiss him partner and cup their face, and missionary is definitely a favourite.

○ While gentle, Ryis is also extremely handsy. He loves the feeling of soft skin under his work-worn fingers and its easy to tell whenever he's in the mood, since his hands begin wandering everywhere. If he can get a handful of it he's squeezing - thighs, tummy, tits, and especially ass... whatever his partner has that they're comfortable with him touching. Especially during.

○ Did someone say cockwarming? It was probably Ryis. That is to say, he's a big fan of having his partner just sit on his cock. Whether they're doing something else together trying to pretend not to be distracted, competing to see who moves first, or both, he's very much a fan.

○ Cat-and-mouse style flirting games are a favored part of foreplay for Ryis. Seeing who begs first, who cracks and touches the other... he has an insane amount of self-control, so Ryis usually wins. He's always just as happy when doesn't, though.

○ Ryis is extremely doting. Though he will tease a partner into asking for exactly what they want, he will absolutely deliver. Ultimately his partner ends up being quite spoiled - Ryis might talk big but he can't bring himself to say no to any way they want to be pleasured for the most part. He has a lot of stamina too, so he's able to keep up with even more insatiable partners well happily.

Eiland

xxx

○ Eiland is extremely spontaneous as a partner. He's often so busy thinking about his work, archeological studies, and other similar things that other thoughts tend to come on almost of their own accord, sometimes at seemingly random times. A kiss in excitement after an exciting historical discovery turns into wandering hands, an innocent afternoon stroll has him and his partner hurrying home in a fit of giggles and flirty touches... that kind of thing.

○ Treating Eiland a little roughly turns him into putty. Light degradation, biting... if you pull his hair he's a gonner. That being said, he's rather obedient and aims to please so he can be a little sensitive, and definitely needs some aftercare if his partner is rough with him to reassure him he did a good job and you enjoyed it as much as he did.

○ Eiland loves being ridden. He's very visual, and the more he can see the more satisfied he'll be. Something about watching all of his partner while they bounce on top of him, being able to see them press his cock into them, sends him directly to space.

○ Eilands favourite place to be ridden is his office. Being given a (probably much needed) break from his studies in the form of sex on his desk is always welcome - and a thought he gets off to himself quite frequently. He's careful to keep any fragile or rare artifacts away from his main desk, just in case it's needed for other things.

○ Considering the above it's probably no surprise that Eiland gets off on a little risk. Sex in semi-public places in hidden away alcoves where they have to be quiet lest anyone pass too close and hear them really gets Eiland off - something about the impropriety of it. Once he's established with a partner he might just leave the door unlocked in hopes that they'll walk in when he's touching himself to the thought.

xxxxxxxxxx

A/N: This is my first time writing up headcanons in a long time, and it's been even longer since I've written smut. Hopefully you still enjoy❣️

If anyone would be interested in a Bachelorette version of this feel free to let me know.

Thanks for reading! 😊

[g1rld1ary]

well kept secret 2 - spencer reid x hotch's daughter!reader

prev

wc: 1479

cw: none!

me: i love writing dialogue!!!!!!!!! also i did get a request for a diff hotchs daughter fic but id already written half of this so anon i have seen it!! also also i just finished my first week back at uni and i already have so many more readings than last yr so my writing may become a bit slower for the foreseeable sorry!!

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You hadn’t seen your father for weeks. Both of you had been slammed with work and Hotch had been on a few particularly long cases that had kept him out of Quantico.

However, you weren’t one to waste time. You’d only learnt Hotch was your father as you went into college, your mother’s well-kept college fling exposed as you grew into adulthood. It was you who took the risk in reaching out, genetically curious. Thankfully Hotch was open to the relationship, and the two of you had been making a concerted effort to make up for all your lost time.

That brought you to the FBI offices after Hotch had messaged you that his case had wrapped up at an appropriate time of day, for once.

“Hi, Sweetheart. I just have to fill out this paperwork but I’ll be quick. You can sit in my office if you like or go get yourself a coffee from the break room.” Hotch gave you a quick side-hug, a big show of affection for him, and you nodded easily.

“It’s all good, I’m gonna go annoy your inferiors,” You laughed, skipping out of Hotch’s office and down to the bullpen.

“Hey, little Hotch, you’re back!” Morgan grinned as he saw you, shaking your hand with probably unearned familiarity.

“Are you hanging around for long? Gotta wait for my Dad to finish work before we can have dinner,” You exaggerated your rolling eyes to emphasise the humour in your tone and Derek responded accordingly.

“Good dads, am I right? Sorry, little Hotch, but I’ve got a woman to make dinner up to, I can’t stick around tonight.” You pretended to be annoyed as you made your rounds to the rest of the agents that you’d met, but everyone was lost in their own little world, rushing to get home to their loved ones.

Not that you could blame them, you were sure if you had to be away risking your life so often you’d behave exactly the same. Fortunately or unfortunately, you weren’t in that position and were getting bored. That was, until your eyes locked on the only agent still sitting behind a desk.

“Doctor Reid, right?” You confirmed as you approached him, not not enjoying the way he seemed to become flustered under your gaze.

“Yeah,” He stuttered, “But you can call me Spencer. If you want. Or not, of course.”

“Alright, Spencer.” You grinned, “So why are you so eager to sit behind the desk? Everyone else basically hit the ground running.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Spencer trained his eyes on the file ahead of him, spinning a pen rapidly between his nimble fingers, “Nowhere to rush to, I guess.”

“So you’re single?” You raised an eyebrow with a sly smile, “No girl waiting for you at home?” Spencer almost jumped out of his skin at the word, but managed to shake his head in a way that was almost calm.

“So, um, what do you do?” He changed the subject hastily but you were ready for him.

“You tell me, you’re the profiler, aren’t you?” You were teasing him, challenging him even, but Spencer was good with challenges.

“Clearly you’re in office work of some sort. I assume not necessarily very high up since you said Hotch bought your high-end heels but nothing else you’re wearing is nearly as expensive. Your nails are brightly coloured and have those… charms on them, which tells me you work in something creative, where professionalism has different standards. You’re well spoken and were confident even when faced with the group of us last time, so you probably have to public speak or do client relations. My guess is marketing?”

You stood for a second, amazed by the acute observations Spencer had made within your first conversation.

“I guess they don’t call you Boy Genius for nothing, then. I’m in graphic design, usually marketing campaigns.” Spencer brightened at the praise and confirmation of his brilliance.

“It’s just my job. Any of us would have told you all the same things.”

“Genius and humble? No wonder the FBI is so fond of you,” You teased, leaning against the edge of Spencer’s desk. He laughed shyly, clearly unsure of what to do with himself.

“That and the fact I have an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory.” Your eyebrows raised as he hit you with what you interpreted as a joke. Cute, smart and funny, what more could a guy offer?

“Wow, you really are the secret weapon around here, huh? Don’t worry, I won’t tell the bad guys.” You winked with a smile, enjoying the way a rosy blush developed over Spencer’s cheeks. “And all of that by what? Thirty?”

“Twenty seven,” He shot back quickly, “I don’t look that old, do I?”

“Not at all,” You grinned, “I think older men are hot.”

“I don’t think twenty-four and twenty-seven is much of an age gap,” Spencer mused as you blinked owlishly at him, completely missing the implications of his statement.

“How’d you know that? You’re not a genius and a mind-reader, are you?”

“I did some digging,” Penelope admitted sheepishly as she crossed the bullpen with her handbag, clearly on the way out. You glanced at Spencer with an expression you hoped was saying ‘who is this woman and how can she do that?’ to find he was already looking at you, amused smile on his own face.

“If you keep hanging around here you’ll get used to her eventually, we all did.”

“I love her. She’s like if my twelve year old self had adult money.” Spencer laughed at that, loud and bright in the otherwise silent bullpen. You smiled at the sound, silence falling between you both. It was somewhere in the middle of nice and slightly weird. You’d only just met but you knew Spencer was someone you wanted to get to know, he fascinated you in every way. And he was fun to talk to, especially as he got comfortable around you. You assumed it was the genius intellect that helped with his quick wit.

“So, is my Dad a good boss?” You broke the silence with a cheeky grin, testing the boundaries.

“Stop tormenting my agent, honey.” Hotch’s rich timbre popped up behind you and your shoulders tensed in surprise. You’d been caught. You turned to face your father with a coy smile, giggle barely contained.

“It was just a question! Don’t quash a young girl’s curiosity,” You played innocent, knowing good and well that Hotch was too smart for the ploy.

“Maybe save your questions for when Reid isn’t wanting to get home for his weekend?” He raised one thick eyebrow, but you could see the amusement behind his typically serious expression.

“I’m very sorry, Doctor Reid, thank you for taking the time to babysit your boss’ daughter.”

Spencer looked like a deer in headlights. What was the procedure? Hotch was standing right there, yet he was pretty sure (and it took a lot for him to even suggest the notion) that you were flirting with him. How was he supposed to handle that?

“I, it was no trouble at all, really. Happy with babysitting duties, sir,” Reid stammered out, the twisting of his features making clear he knew he was making a fool of himself. Hotch, always having had a soft spot for the doctor, let it slide.

“Make sure you don’t stay here all night, Reid.” Hotch started for the elevators and you hopped along at his heels happily.

“Hope I’ll see you soon, Doctor Reid.” You turned back to face him with a grin, delighting in the way he jumped slightly, only able to offer the single most awkward thumbs up and wave combination you’d ever seen.

As the glass doors closed behind you, you could have sworn you heard a squeaky, “It’s Spencer!”

You stood next to Hotch in the descending elevator, giddy smile playing on your lips. If Hotch noticed he didn’t say anything, not that you thought he would. He was definitely not the type of dad to start gossiping about boys.

You were in his passenger seat on the drive to your dinner plans when he finally turned the subject back to his coworkers.

“Just don’t start coming into my work because you like my coworkers more than me, okay? I’d never hear the end of it, especially from Morgan.”

“Who, me? I would never,” You teased, changing the radio station to something more pop-y, “Besides, it wouldn’t be Morgan I’d be visiting.”

next

[horrorsboyfrie]

Loser!Zandik being crushed on by Popular!Reader

(masc terms on reader+ it's the typical corny social butterfly × weirdo shit, queer edition, honestly + Zandik displays traits of autism + a little murderous♡)

Zandik, as per usual, was spending the night's time in the library. It was quiet, for the most part. While a lot of his fellow peers were focused on finding answers for their own satisfaction, even those who viewed their values and research to be above everyone else's had someone to keep them company; for that reason, they often chose to borrow the necessary books and study in their respective dorms, or the dorms of their friends. Some did indeed prefer the setup of the library's sections and desks, but even so, the peaceful atmosphere was not interrupted by them.

Zandik sat on a table at the very ends of the room. He had a pile of books to his right; some half opened, and others neatly stack on top of each other. He had his notebook and pens nearby, taking notes of anything he deemed crucial knowledge for his personal projects.

Not long had he been entangled in his theories when a specific group of students decided to make an appearance. They could be heard from miles away— and it just so happened that they chose to sit on a table to his right. Malicious intent, no doubt. These people tended to act as if Zandik was some foreign species to be studied; as if he was a sort of a subject that needed constant supervision.

Of any day to endure the constant speculations and disgusted or concerned expressions towards him, today was not the right one. Nothing too horrific had happened to him, not something that would matter to an average person, at least. It's just that he slept wrong, causing him to wake up with slight neck pain, which played a role in worsening his already short temper, which in turn made his sensory issues towards his clothes, especially his socks, far more insufferable than they had to be. He was one unexpected move away from having a meltdown.

Yet again, he managed to ignore the obnoxiously loud 《whispers》 that sprouted out of those filthy rat-filled mouths of theirs, as Zandik's already-overwhelmed mind decided to call them.

Unfortunately for him, the multiple different voices started chanting even more nonsense as you walked towards the table— he could see that you were dreading it. Was everyone so damn bothered by his existence? You were known to be such a sweetheart— contrast to majority of boys there— by those who've interacted with you, but to be fair, none had a reputation quite like Zandik's, so it's no wonder you resented him, as everyone else did.

"Why'd we have to sit here?" he heard you emphasize. He looked your way; he could see the grins on the faces of your friends, the way they seemed to be picking on someone, hushed whispers, mentioning his name time after time, as if he wasn't barely three chairs away. Gods, his patience was running thin.

"Can we just switch seats?" He listened as you practically begged your friend, who was sitting on the complete opposite end of the table. As much as he may have claimed (to himself, seeing as he had none to actually confide in) not be a man driven by emotion, his worse sensory days were tempt to be a catastrophe in every way possible. He left soon after he heard those mumbles; he was too sensitive for his own good, even if he dismissed that fragile soul of his with walls of anger and apathy.

Your friends seemed to notice before you, the fact that he was no longer in the room. All you got was endless teasing about how you've missed your chance or about the fact that you probably 《intimidated》 him. Bullshit, no? You sighed as the group split up again, each going ahead to do their own thing. The only true reason they decided to meet up here was to force you into talking to him. That did not quite work out, it seems.

You hurried to leave as well, when you noticed a small pen on the ground. That must be his; you always see him writing with that specific shade of blue. It's not like nobody else in the whole Akademiya owned the same one, but he was sitting on the table you found it under. You decided to hold on to it. Perhaps it would be an opportunity to finally have a conversation with the guy!

On your way back to the dorms, you noticed him nearing his own room. Maybe now's the time to return him his belongings— especially considering how he seemed to be searching his pockets. His face was indifferent when he realized he didn't have the pen on him, but his hands were trermbling; a hint of anxiety perhaps? One could only speculate. You decided to leave him on his own. He probably wasn't up for company or conversation anyway.

The following few days weren't quite like you expected. Usually, you'd manage to get at least a glance your way by him; laughing at stupid jokes, bumping into people or objects that you could have easily avoided, accidentally saying things a bit too loud. Nothing worked this time. It's as if he purposefully was avoiding you; a fact that got confirmed after you tried walking towards him. He saw you—he made sure you saw his look, he held it for a couple of seconds— and then he walked away. Fuck, there's no way this guy wants anything to do with you.

Weeks later, you had grown to forget ever owning that pen of his; actually, you started using it for yourself. If you can't give it back, then why not use it for yourself?

Zandik, despite trying his hardest to keep his stares away from you and your friends (and pretty much everyone else in that damned building), couldn't help but notice that his long-gone favorite pen is under your possession.

After the very last class of the day, he decided to give you a visit; your fate had been decided by him already. He's done what he's done in the Eleazar hospital and got away with it. It wouldn't be hard to add another body into the endless pile of disappearances; he knew how to keep suspicion off his shoulders.

Perhaps it was a bit too far. He was letting his rage get the better of him; but gods, he really hadn't felt at ease writing with anything else. "His death would make no logical sense to my goals," he sighed as he reminded himself. "What sort of researcher puts his emotions above his values?" He groaned— frustrated both at himself for considering such a solution to his problems, and at the situation itself.

Times like these, he'd go to his special place to sit and think; it was a big tree, near a lake. Children would often talk about their encounters with the Aranara there. At first, he only ever visited that place so he could find one creature and take it for himself, but he grew quite comfortable being there.

He grabbed the opportunity by its hand once he spotted you all alone; sitting with your back against that very same tree that he favored. As if you had a seventh sense, you turned around to see him. He wasn't quite prepared to be greeted with a smile. It caught him off guard; why were you, of all people, showing any form of sympathy for him?

"I was hoping you'd be here" you said, handing him the pen that he has been desperately trying to get a hold of again.

[finelinevogue]

spreading the love

summary - harry’s fans LOVE you

pairing - fiancé!harry x reader

word count - ~2k

The fans absolutely loved you.

Probably more so than Harry sometimes.

You were often the subject headline of news articles that were actually about Harry. You were often asked about in interviews that Harry was doing. You were often stopped before Harry on the streets. Not that Harry minded in the slightest because, well, he understood.

Obviously, no one could love you more than he did but he understood the publics addiction towards you.

You hadn’t come from much and you weren’t a name people knew before you started dating Harry. Somehow, somewhere, along the way you had become a somebody.

And everyone adored you.

Whether it was your kind nature, you loving heart, your gorgeous smile or your generous soul, you never went unloved by anyone. Not even the cruelest hearted person could have anything bad to say about you.

You loved being involved with the fans too. You often gave a lot back to them just because they were the most dedicated and loyal people you knew.

You loved how much they loved your Harry.

“Hello, hello!” You tucked your hair behind your ear as you started your Instagram live.

Your viewers shot up from 3k to 104k in ten seconds - that’s how popular you had become with the fans and media.

“How are we all today? Feeling good? I’m feeling good since it’s a Friday. It’s my weekend off tomorrow.”

Everyone knew that you were an NHS nurse and did so much for the people you worked with and beside, which only added to the cause of people loving you.

ellaking107: what are you doing with your weekend off?💛

“Hi Ella! This weekend I am staying home with Harry. We have got a very boring weekend planned unfortunately. Our bathroom is having a redecoration and so we need to wait for the tile man to pop in at some point so he can start measuring up bits and pieces. I’m sure H will drag me for a run or to a pilates class too.”

You were situated in your lounge, lots of plants and good lighting surrounding you.

harryissmiling101: Where is Harry?

“Ummm, so Harry is currently at his mum’s. Maybe this is too much information, but his mum’s fridge broke and so all her food went off. Harry and I made loads of dishes though last night for her, so Harry’s dropped them all off along with a spare fridge we had. I know… Don’t ask why we had a spare fridge.”

You watched as you cat, Kira, came through the lounge door and hopped up onto the sofa you were sat on. You turned the camera so everyone could see her.

“My child says hello to you all. Don’t you Ki?” You began stroking her little black and white chin. “Oh you’re so gorgeous. I love you so much.”

haileyjudd: Harry or Kira?

“Hailey I can’t believe you’re even asking me that… Hailey said, choose between Harry and Kira. Honey, there’s no doubt about it. Obviously, Kira.” You laughed.

You knew some magazine would twist your words later and make it seem like you and Harry were going through a rocky patch in your relationship, but you knew the truth. Harry was completely whipped for you and there wasn’t a single chance he was leaving you. Ever. Then again, the feeling is very mutual.

Kira came closer to you and sat in your lap, nestling herself deep into the blanket you had draped over the top of you.

jammiiie: Are you single please?

“Hi Jamie, potentially.. maybe… Uh, no. I am not single and this will remain my answer indefinitely.” You smiled, thinking about how clingy Harry would get if you had read that out whilst he was say next to you.

Harry doesn’t get jealous, oh no.

He gets clingy. And you love it.

You love when he’s constantly doting on you; kissing you. He loved on you like he has to remind you your his (even though you always will be).

harriesassemble: Y/N can I ask you a question? My boyfriend told me that I have to shave (you know where) but I don’t feel comfortable doing that. How do I tell him? (Don’t answer if you feel uncomfortable)🤍

“Wait.. Hang on a second..” You spoke slowly, slowing the speed of the comments as you traced back to a comment that caught your attention.

“Hi, sorry I’m not sure what your name is, but I hope you are still here and know I’m speaking to you!“ You re-read out loud the comment posted so everyone knew what you were going to talk about. “So, first of all, girl to girl, if he is forcing you to do something as personal as shaving yourself then, my love, he’s not worth your time or breath.”

ophelialover: oh i am so here for y/n’s girl talk time

harrielover: y/n is so big sister coded

“Don’t do anything that you don’t want to do. Do not force yourself to be making changes to yourself just to please a man, or any significant other for that matter. If Harry ever forced me to make a change to myself I didn’t want, he knows where the door is. Seriously, honey, you’re perfect and never change unless you want to.”

harriesassemble: Thank you!🩷

kingsofharry: You’re amazinf Y/N <33

justkeepdriving: WE LOVE YOU Y/N

liked by y/nl/nofficial and 1,976 others

harriesassemble i can’t believe y/n just followed me i am in shock right now :((( she’s my favourite person in the whole world and everything they said to me this evening was just so special:(( im shaking so bad i love y/n so much❤️

view all 394 comments

harryfan1 OH THIS IS SO COOL

harryfan2 omg you were who y/n was talking to??? congrats!!!!!

y/nl/nofficial You’re amazing!💛

harryfan3 we stan y/n

••••••••••

London was quite busy today.

Lots of tourists bustling through the city as well as the daily commuters wandering around on their lunch breaks.

Harry had decided to take the afternoon off since you also had it off, organising to take you for a bite to eat and a coffee at your favourite cafe.

It was a cafe bookstore, so you got to browse books whilst waiting for your food and then got to sit amongst the books whilst you ate. It was a dream fantasy of yours as a child and you’re grateful someone brought that fantasy to life.

Harry held your hand securely as you wandered through the London streets.

Luckily Harry had secured a paparazzi ban years ago that meant that no paps were legally allowed to take photos of Harry in London, so it was just fan photos that you had to be aware of.

“Angela asked me to give her your number again today.” You said to Harry.

“She’s relentless.” Harry laughed.

“She just wants to know when her future grandson-in law is going to become her in-law.”

“Baby, I’ve told you before - I’m not asking until I’m ready.” He squeezed your hand.

“No, I know. I just want Nana Angela to be alive when we get married.”

“She will be. I promise.”

You both came to a stop at a red pedestrian light. Harry pulled you back slightly, because he knew that you liked to stand far too close to the edge of the pavement.

You looked up to Harry, watching as he took in his surroundings through a pair of brown sunglasses.

“C’mere a minute.” You said, directing his head to face you.

You reached up and unclipped your claw clip from his hair and ruffled the locks until he had a messy middle parting. You bit the clip between your teeth as you messed with his hair.

“What was wrong with m’hair?” He chuckled.

“Prefer it down like this.” You shrugged your shoulders and clipped the claw clip to the top of your jumper.

You smiled at your handy work.

He looked even more handsome now.

As you crossed the road, you spotted someone with a Love on Tour tote bag. It was one of the newest ones. It was being carried by a girl in her early 20s, maybe.

You poked Harry and pointed him towards the girl.

“She had good taste in music.” He joked.

You didn’t mean to follow this girl, but only happened to stop at another pedestrian red light next to her. You stood beside her and noticed she had headphones on.

You couldn’t help yourself from nudging her shoulder. As you prodded her, she gasped and cupped a hand over her mouth in shock. She quickly took off her headphones and giggled a hi out.

“Love the tote bag!” You smiled brightly.

“Ha ha thank you! Oh my God I can’t believe you’re actually here right now.” She laughed.

“Yup. Both of us.” You pulled Harry a little closer into you.

“Hi, you alright?” He spoke shyly, as ever when he is introduced to someone new.

“This isn’t real! Holy shit.” The girl laughed the situation off. “I was nearly not going to wear this tote bag today as well.”

“Well it must be a good luck charm then.” You laughed. “Which show did you go to?”

“Wembley night 4.”

“Ahh!! The best one then!” You exclaimed, Harry chuckling from behind you.

You always did this.

You managed to make friends with absolutely anybody on the streets, over the smallest of connections. You especially loved making friends with Harry’s fans.

“Well I think so, but I might be biased.” She shrugged.

“It was one of our favourite shows, wasn’t it H?” You nudged him into the conversation, knowing that he struggles with that.

“Yeah definitely. Wembley was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before.” He nodded with a smile, looking at you more so than the girl. “I’m glad you enjoyed it and thank you for the support, it means a lot.”

You internally smiled at the small spiel that you had prepped with him for occasions where he might bump into a fan.

“What was your favourite part?” You asked curiously.

“Sign of The Times in the rain.”

“Oh stop! You’re going to make me force Harry into to going on another tour ASAP just to experience that again.”

“Oh, because of course I can control the rain too love.” Harry laughed, which made you both chuckle with him.

“Shut up.” You judged him in the ribs. “Well it was lovely to meet you…”

“Emma.”

“Emma.” You smiled.

“Thank you for your continued support, Emma.” Harry added. “Would you like a photo?”

“Uh.. Y-yes? Yes please! If that’s okay with you?” Emma politely checked.

“Of course. Just as long as you wait a little bit to post it so our location isn’t instantly publicised.”

“Yes. Of course! Thank you.”

“Here, honey, give me your phone.” You held out your hand, thinking that she would have wanted you to take a photo of just her and Harry.

“You have to be in it too, Y/N!” Emma exclaimed.

“Yeah, Y/N/N.” Harry rolled his eyes at your silliness. “C’mere.” Harry roped his arm around your waist and brought you to stand slightly in front of him. Emma was directly next to you and you all smiled as she lifted her arm to take a selfie. Harry’s cheek was pressed near against yours.

“They okay?” Harry asked.

“Perfect. Thank you guys so much.” Emma smiled so brightly.

After you parted ways you couldn’t help but imagine how electric Emma must be feeling right now. Harry seemed to be happy too, because you were happy after such a heartwarming conversation.

Positive interactions just made for better days.

Later, Emma would post that photo and the comments were even more wholesome.

comment 1: the way y/n and harry are stood so close to each other

comment 2: the fact harry has his literal cheek pressed against y/ns makes me WEEP

comment 3: they look so happy i will cry

•••••••

Another place where you would find wholesome content from the fans was the world of social media.

Normally, with Harry’s previous relationship’s, they would get absolutely hated on social media. There would always be something that would get dug out from someone’s past which meant they weren’t ��right” for Harry. All of it was bullshit and Harry’s previous relationships had ended because he never felt “right” with anyone.

Until you.

You were now sat with Harry’s family around a small fire pit in Anne’s back garden.

Her lovely house had a beautiful garden that was perfect for dinner evening drinks and conversations. You often think about returning here with Harry and his last name one day.

“Top up, Y/N?” Anne asked, holding out the bottle red wine up to your wine glass that empty on the table.

“Oh, no thanks Anne.” You warmly smiled.

You were comfortably nestled in Harry’s lap with a blanket drawn over the two of you. Harry was nursing his own red wine with one hand, whilst the other supported your back from where you were sat sideways across his legs. Your head was nuzzled just below his chin and your hands were busy fiddling with his necklaces.

“You okay, m’love?” Harry asked you, so only you could hear.

“Mhm. Wine has made me sleepy.”

“Rest if you need to, i’m right here.” He kissed the top of your head.

You pulled your phone out of your hoodie pocket and opened it up to Twitter.

You followed a multitude of Harry’s fans on Twitter, simply for the shits and giggles. It had become a challenge to see who would be the next person that you would follow.

Scrolling through Twitter you noticed a lot of people reposting a photo of you and Harry that got leaked today. You were both simply walking through the park, but the photo clearly showed you wearing Harry’s hoodie and everyone was screaming over it.

harriesunite: these are my parents

“H, baby, look.” You giggled as you showed him the tweet.

“Hmm?” He tucked his face down into your neck as he read your phone, and leaving your neck warm after he laughed.

“You’re such a dad, apparently.”

“Not yet I’m not.” He kissed your exposed neck, but only once when he remembered he was sat in front of his mum.

“Y’want to be?” You turned your head a little to the side to see him better.

“Whenever you want to be a mum, yeah.” He smiled so brightly.

“Soon.”

“Yeah, soon.” Harry nodded in agreement.

[musicalmoritz]

It’s canon Mitsuba’s gay?

I’m gonna use this as an excuse to yap because Mitsuba’s queercoding is either weirdly downplayed by fans or used solely for BL shipping purposes so I want to talk about it through the lens of what it means for his character, role in the story, and relationship with Kou

Yes, Mitsuba is canonically gay

Things don’t have to be explicitly stated in order to be canon, subtext is a major part of media analysis. This is something a lot of fans miss which leads to a misunderstanding of the source material. I do have some credentials for this, I’ve taken two undergrad college literature classes in which the subject of queercoding did come up multiple times. Meaning analyzing queercoding has literally gone towards my degree so I feel like my opinion holds some weight (not as much as that of an actual English major but yk I assume I’ve had more education on it than the general TBHK fandom)

There are multiple ways to queercode a character, sometimes it can be as simple as feminizing a man or masculinizing a woman. Though that method might be a bit outdated nowadays with gender roles becoming less strict, it’s still worth keeping in mind when analyzing queer characters. Another way is through romantically colored scenes with characters of the same sex, or by having them hint at disinterest in the opposite sex. Mitsuba checks off all three of these boxes and then some

First off, Mitsuba is attracted to men. This is made extremely obvious through his relationship with Kou but I’m gonna explain it anyways because unfortunately I’ve seen a lot of fans say they’re just platonic

Mitsuba and Kou went on a date. When this is brought up, fans typically jump to the excuse of “but Kou said it wasn’t a date,” which is where my American Lit class is going to come in handy. One of the major things we learned is that authors have to understand that everything they write has some sort of real world connotation. If you write a scene with a doctor, you have to understand that your readers already have preconceived notions of what doctors represent. You can choose to either lean into that or subvert it, but you have to be aware that as soon as a doctor enters the scene, readers have already made assumptions about that character

The word “date” is clearly being used in a romantic context here. When Kou texts his friends and brother about it, they all assume he’s talking about a romantic date. While in the actual context of the scene, Mitsuba and Kou aren’t quite ready to use such a strong label yet, the romantic wording here is still very intentional. AidaIro would not have labeled this moment as a date if they didn’t want readers to view it in a romantic light, because they understand that their readers are going to associate dates with romance. Japanese censorship is really strict, it’s hard to publish stories with explicitly queer characters unless the series is labeled as a BL or GL. And so Japanese manga writers often have to find roundabout ways to express that characters are gay without outright stating it- such as suggesting that they’re going on a date with a character of the same sex

In the printed volume for Vol.20, there’s an editor’s note that mentions that when Kou and Mitsuba are making plans to hang out at the school festival, it holds a romantic implication for the Japanese audience. Cultural differences are important to keep in mind, to western fans this scene might not raise any eyebrows but for its primary audience, it is confirmation that Mitsuba and Kou are romantic. I also find it interesting that the editor felt this context was important enough to warrant clarification

And frankly, their relationship doesn’t make a lot of sense if it’s solely platonic. Male friendship is something TBHK writes very realistically, the male characters aren’t as touchy-feely with their friends as they are with their female love interests. Yokoo and Satou don’t directly ask Kou how he’s feeling when they notice he’s upset, instead they give him a task to distract him- similar to how men in real life cheer their friends up through quality time rather than talking through their emotions like women do (not every man ofc but a good majority of them). When Teru is down, Akane doesn’t hold him and reassure him the way he does with Aoi. There are no grand declarations of ultimate “friendship” the way you see in fan servicy series like Haikyuu. Instead, he used his and Teru’s rivalry to indirectly motivate him to get his head back in the game. When Hanako is sad, Kou cheers him up by making donuts for him and then giving them to Nene so she can pretend she’s the one who made them. This is a very healthy portrayal of male friendship, and Mitsuba and Kou are nothing like this

Mitsuba and Kou both cry and vent to each other multiple times (the Mitsuba Arc, the Picture Perfect Arc, the Nightlife Arc), and instead of comforting each other indirectly they do things like offering to die for each other. You would never see Akane offer to die to make Teru feel better, nor would you Aoi and Nene or Kou and Hanako. It stands out so much from other friendships in the series, even Kou’s friendships with other characters. That is a conscious writing decision, AidaIro make a point to show Mitsuba as an exception for Kou. It’s worth noting that in the same chapter where Yokoo and Satou cheer Kou up indirectly, Mitsuba attempts to directly have him talk about his feelings

They’re also incredibly possessive over one another, in a way friends usually aren’t. When Kou was in the Red House, he was shown his greatest desires, and Mitsuba appeared in one of these. Kou said he knew Mitsuba would appear, which is interesting because at that point he had already picked up on the house showing him what he wanted. But what does he want? He wants Mitsuba to rely on him entirely, to be completely useless without him. He wants Mitsuba to be “no good without him,” to need him so badly that he begs him to die so they can be together. I’m not exaggerating, these are lines pulled straight from the chapter (paraphrased but still). Later on in the Nightlife arc, Kou breaks down when he discovers Mitsuba has been relying on Tsukasa for life-saving help. As for Mitsuba, he wants to die by Kou’s hands. He says it wouldn’t be satisfying if anyone else killed him, and that he would be happy if Kou were to be the last person he spent time with before he died. He tries to trap Kou in a picture perfect world just like Hanako does with Nene, because he wants to live a normal life with him. It’s also shown in one of the extras that Mitsuba cries when Kou ignores him

They’re also drawn very romantically, again we don’t see Teru and Akane this intimate with one another unless they’re fighting. We especially don’t see Kou this intimate with anyone other than Mitsuba, and while Mitsuba is sometimes clingy with Tsukasa we certainly never see him posed romantically with a woman. This comes back to authorial intent and real world connotations, AidaIro know that male friends aren’t typically this close, and therefore casual affection like this will be interpreted in a romantic light. We see them hold hands/wrists multiple times too, Kou gives Mitsuba a piggyback ride in one scene, and in ASHK they had a classic “pinned against the wall” page

I’ll also mention the AUs, because those indicate a lot about the characters as well. In Hanako-Kun of the Opera, Kou poisoned Mitsuba so he could take him away from the opera house and protect him from Tsukasa. He basically kidnapped him. He also stayed with Mitsuba at the opera house for a seemingly long period of time despite hating opera. Aaaaand they’re childhood best friends in this au and Kou took care of Mitsuba while he was sick

Then there’s the Ghost Hotel, where Kou is a werewolf who takes bites out of mummy Mitsuba during full moons. Despite this, the two appear to be friends and Mitsuba helps Kou out around the kitchen. Cannibalism is consistently tied to romance throughout TBHK, most notably with Hakubo and Sumire but other romantic pairings have cannibalistic moments or official arts. During the zombie mokke chapter, Nene panicked when Akane tries to eat her because she assumed it would put her in a love triangle with Aoi. So yeah, cannibalism in TBHK is directly tied to romance and we see that with Mitsukou both in canon and in this au. Speaking of which, I’m not even gonna get into the symbolism of Kou holding a heart out to Mitsuba. Connect the dots for yourselves

Now that we’ve got Mitsukou out of the way, let’s talk about Mitsuba’s disinterest in women

Remember how I said one of the ways queercoding is done is by having a character hint at disinterest in the opposite sex? Yeah, very rarely are we going to see a queercoded male character outright say “I have no attraction to women.” Instead they say they just never saw the appeal in dating, or that they never had time to settle down. In more obvious cases, we have scenes like Reiner from AOT joking that Ymir isn’t all that into guys

I couldn’t find the second scene but there are TWO extras where the subject of Mitsuba’s disinterest in women comes up. C’mon guys I’m trying not to be mean here but you have to be blind, oblivious, or in denial to not pick up on that. Whyyyyy would they mention Mitsuba not having a crush on any girls twice if it weren’t to suggest something about his preference?? Coupled with his appearance (which I’ll get to later) and relationship with Kou, these scenes carry a lot of weight. Even if those other aspects weren’t included, scenes like this would still indicate he has no interest in women (which would make him gay or aroace, though due to his relationship with Kou the aroace thing is kind of ruled out)

Compare this to a scene where Mitsuba thinks he’s being asked out by a man. He doesn’t say “hmmm nope no guys, I’m cuter than all of them~” he specifically says “I’m not interested in guys with lame earrings.” The way this is worded implies that Mitsuba is discussing a type, though it’s v much a comedic scene and we know from everything else that he absolutely does like guys with lame earrings, it’s still worded in a way that makes him appear queer. If he were straight, they would have had him say he’s not interested in guys at all (like Dazai from Bungou Stray Dogs, John Watson from BBC Sherlock, Finn Hudson from Glee, idk there are a lot of male characters that are explicit straight sorry for the crazy random list). Also note how he teases Kou about it, he knows that Kou is fond of him and doesn’t hesitate to use that against him (like when he was comforting him during the Nightlife arc)

They don’t go overboard with Mitsuba’s disinterest in women because, well, that’s not really necessary. Two scenes is already a lot, and he doesn’t have any romantic relationships with women in canon (even as a crush/a joke scene). It’s rare for TBHK characters to have absolutely no scenes expressing interest in the opposite sex, since the series is partially a romance. But Mitsuba consistently only ever shows interest in one man, and when girls are brought up he’s quick to brush it off. His mom did think Nene was his girlfriend when they met, but this was depicted as a very awkward and comedic scene. Because the premise of Mitsuba having a girlfriend is objectively hilarious

(Due to Sousuke’s young age it’s reasonable to assume he wasn’t out to his mom yet, he’s around the age where most kids are closeted. It’s even possible that Sousuke hadn’t come to terms with his sexuality yet, though it’s still a prevalent part of both his character and No.3’s)

Now let’s move onto appearances. I want to give a quick disclaimer, not all gay men are feminine and not all feminine men are gay. Androgyny is also very common in anime and doesn’t automatically mean a character is gay, but there are cases when it’s used for queercoding. Mitsuba is one of these cases

Mitsuba is a very feminine character, this is addressed as soon as he shows up in the manga. He was bullied for his appearance (and personality), but unlike his personality he never tried to change his feminine appearance. He kept his hair long, continues to wear scarves and cardigans and earrings. No.3 wears these things as well, and I would argue has a more feminine personality since he seems to be more open about his emotions and idk. I struggle to categorize feminine and masculine traits because imo that’s subjective but there are things society deems feminine vs. masculine. The problem is that I really dislike the whole “men are strong and women are emotional” thing but ehhhh I guess I have to talk about it for this. Hmph. But yeah although Mitsuba isn’t exactly the biggest sweetheart ever, he does act somewhat feminine compared to the other male characters (as I’ve said he’s p much the only man in the series who attempts to work through emotional conflicts directly)

Once again we circle back to intent, AidaIro know that a male character dressed in pink with pink eyes and long pink hair is going to raise some eyebrows. Even by androgynous anime standards, it’s a bit much. And good for him, although not all gay men are feminine, some are and that’s also fine. I can’t speak on how well he represents feminine gay men because I’m a lesbian but he does dress similar to some of the feminine gay men I’ve known irl (or slightly less feminine in some cases…I knew this one dude in high school who used to wear corsets to class and he was so badass I hope he’s doing well)

I could get into how Kou is a bit feminized too with the whole housework thing but this ain’t abt him. I will say that Kou is still a very masculine character but despite this his character is feminized in some ways compared to the other men. I’m not really here to discuss whether that’s good or bad, I’m just stating the evidence as it is, you can make your own conclusions as to how you feel about it

So how does being queer impact Mitsuba’s character arc?

When I get around to writing my analyses of all the TBHK characters I WILL be talking more in depth about the queer allegories with Mitsuba’s character but for now I’ll give ya’ll a quick summary. Supernatural characters have been used for years to represent queerness, the same could be said for villains and any character trope that represents a feeling of “otherness.” Sometimes it’s more broad like X-Men, where the superpowered characters are used to represent all types of minorities (though I believe X-Men is more closely tied to race, there are rampant queer themes as well). Then there’s books like Interview with the Vampire that get more specific with it, where Louis denying his “true nature” as a vampire is used as an allegory for him denying his queerness. Well I’m here to tell you that Mitsuba and Louis de Pointe du Lac are in the same boat

Mitsuba differs from the other supernaturals because he desperately tries to hold on to feelings of normalcy. He wants to be a normal human and live a normal human life. He doesn’t want to be othered, to be outcasted from society for something he can’t control. We don’t see Hanako, Tsuchigomori, Mei, or any of the other supernatural characters struggle with this. You could argue that Akane does but his situation is more related to learning to empathize with others than any internal battles within himself. Hanako may have moments of wishing him and Nene could have something more, but that’s more about romance than his identity.

This desire to be “normal” is unique to Mitsuba’s character, and it’s a very queer desire. Being an angsty teenager who hasn’t fully accepted themself yet and hasn’t realized that being queer is not only normal, but a beautiful experience. It’s also so interesting to me that as he’s trying so hard to be normal, it creates a push and pull between him and Kou. He wants to be normal for Kou but he also feels that he’s hurting Kou just by existing, that this could only end bad for him. Oh the inherent guilt of having your first gay crush and feeling like you're corrupting them hist for pining from afar

So, can you ship him with women? Technically you can do anything, shipping isn’t illegal and we all have free will. Should you ship him with women is more subjective, I personally think no!! Queerness is not just a sexuality, it’s an identity that deeply impacts who you are as a person. It shapes your experiences and your view of yourself, and in an allegorical way it has certainly done this for Mitsuba. Yes, bi people are queer as well and this is still true for them, but bisexuality is not Mitsuba’s experience. Mono-attraction exists and that specification is very important to gay men and lesbians. For some people sexuality is fluid and that’s beautiful, but it doesn’t work that way for everyone

Some queer fans don’t care if gay characters are shipped with members of the opposite sex, and they’re entitled to their own opinions. It makes me immensely uncomfortable tho, so please block me if you ship Mitsuba with women. That goes for any ships between canon gay/lesbian characters and the opposite sex. I respect people’s right to have opinions but that doesn’t mean I have to like the opinions themselves, and I don’t have to engage with anything that makes me uneasy. That goes for all of you btw, never let people convince you that you have to put up with shit you hate on the internet lmao, this is not real life babes. Block and move on

TL;DR

Mitsuba is too gay to function

[jesswritesthat]

Todoroki Shōto: Smile

Fandom: BNHA // MHA — [ Masterlist ]

Summary: ~1k, fluff, humour

• Todoroki is acting differently, and it all started after an ‘interview’ with Mount Lady.

Warnings: None

>>>>——————————>

It was a very suspicious change, a small difference you wouldn’t have noticed if you didn’t know Todoroki as well as you do.

The fire and ice hero had never had an issue when in your presence before, at least once passing the initial barrier of awkwardness when you’d first met. Todoroki wasn’t adapted to friendship or social interaction on a more casual level, and he was still learning now, but that didn’t explain the sudden change in behaviour.

Shōto wasn’t one to smile often, but recently he’d started to do so around you during heartwarming moments or after a witty comment. At least until he’d started covering them with his hand, burying his face in a jacket, or simply turning his head away from you. At first, you thought it was a coincidence but he didn’t display the same actions toward other classmates, at least not as often.

Unfortunely, Shōto was difficult to read in this situation as he hadn’t treated you any differently than before aside from concealing his smile, which meant you’d have to ask him directly if you wanted to understand.

It was an evening after class that you’d caught him in the dorms and asked to go for a walk around the grounds together. Once in the privacy of your own company, you brought up the concept when he’d once again diverted his gaze in your opposing direction when laughing.

“Hey Shōto, why are you always turning away from me when you smile?” You’d spoken casually, an airy tone used to lighten the subject but there was still a moment of contemplative silence before he spoke.

“I… I don’t want you to die.”

“I’d like to think you wouldn’t spontaneously set me aflame or freeze me to death.” A brief laugh escaped you, but he seemed happy.

“Never (Y/n). It was just something someone said, don’t worry about it.” Then he changed the subject, a sign he was embarrassed to elaborate at this current time.

———

The likelihood of getting further insight without directly prying Shōto was unlikely, and so you received enlightenment courtesy of an offhanded comment made to Izuku the following week.

“Has Shoto mentioned about not wanting you to die?”

“Hm? Not recently.” The green haired teen shook his head, but looked at you buzzing with curiosity.

“Ah. Then it’s just me he’s acting weird around, he refuses to smile.”

This comment allowed for Izuku to configure the situation for a second before sparking to life with renewed enthusiasm.

“I think I might know what you mean! He did an interview with Mount Lady but took it too literally I bet.” The young hero hurriedly explained the scenario that occurred during their Interview Training Lesson.

That’s when it all made sense, he’d mistaken Mount Ladys’ compliment on his attractiveness for the cause of a death toll. Amusing. Even more so to think you’d be one of his victims - you have to correct that right away.

“Shōto?” You’d knocked on his dorm, and naturally he’d opened the door to your right away with a degree of concern.

“(Y/n), are you okay?”

“Yes, I wanted to talk to you about the other day.”

He tilted his head slightly in curiosity but welcomed you in to his classic Japanese style room nonetheless.

“You don’t smile at me anymore, so I don’t drop dead.” It was spoken as a statement rather than like questioning his actions, as you knew it all too well.

“…It sounds ridiculous when you say it.” A hand awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck with a deadpan expression on his face when meeting your bemused features.

Once solidifying your composure, which took a minute as admittedly it was a challenge in itself to withhold your laughter for the sake of understanding his feelings.

“Two things.” You held up two digits whilst Shōto nodded sincerely, ready for you to continue.

“People are highly unlikely to die if you smile at them, Mount Lady was joking.”

“Yeah I figured. Based on both past experience and the fact Uraraka is still alive.” The icyhot user tiredly sighed, offering a small but guilty quirk of his lips.

“Which brings me to my second point, why were you so conscious of smiling around me? Especially since Ochaco got a smile out of you.” You crossed your arms now with a hint of mirth lacing your tone, rather intrigued by his potential explanation. However his voice remained confident and sincere, replying as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Because you’re the one I care about most. As you are the last person I’d want to inadvertently kill, it makes sense to be so conscious of my actions toward you doesn’t it?”

Now you were left speechless, just like he was during the initial interview, only able to stare at him blankly.

“Shōto you… care about me most?”

“Did it not come across that way? I always try to be—“ His voice was genuinely worried he hadn’t given you the right impression, you could already see him thinking of ways to correct his mistake, which is why you cut him off with assurance.

“No no it did, I just thought— nevermind. Please don’t hide your smile from me anymore, I likely won’t die upon seeing it.”

This time, when a soft smile graced his lips when looking at you, he didn’t attempt to shy away of cover it with his hand. The gesture of course was reciprocated.

———

Izuku was the one to find you pondering the matter later on though, despite the situation already being resolved.

“I assume you figured it all out with Todoroki?”

“Oh yeah, he said something that caught me off guard though.” It was the dampening tone you’d used that lead Midoriya to take a seat beside you, kind and upbeat tone ringing true.

“Really? Want to talk about it?”

“Well, he said he was so conscious about smiling around me because I’m the one he cares about the most. I didn’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, Todoroki is a person who’d give you time to consider. I am glad he finally confessed to you though.”

It was silent for a moment, your mind felt like a record short-circuiting and repeating his words with declining clarity, meanwhile Izuku seemed oblivious to the personal intel he’d accidentally divulged after misreading the events.

“…”

“…”

“Um… Izuku.” You took a deep, preparing breath. “He didn’t confess to me.”

You saw the sheer panic wash over him like a tidal wave, his freckled skin significantly paler which is when the frantic apologies set in.

“I’m so sorry (L/n)! I wasn’t supposed to tell you that, Todoroki is going to hate me! Forgive me for misinterpreting the situation - I’ll have to tell him I’ve ruined his—“

Quickly you waved your hands in surrender, a feeble attempt at calming him prior to justifying your lack of anxiety compared to his.

“No, it’s okay Izuku. There’s no need for any of that.”

“Huh?! But I—“ His voice was still raised slightly, searching you for any kind of reasoning.

“I like him too. Now it’s even, you know both of our feelings.” The soft smile you wore, and your honest words, reverted the boy back to his original state - once again his cheery self.

“You do? That is good news, but what do you intend to do with that information?”

“I’ll wait until he’s ready to tell me himself.” It was a gentle shrug that accompanied your reply, content to do so.

“I understand (L/n).” The bright boy smiled brightly, to which you gladly accepted and hummed in thought.

“Besides, I’m interested to see what a confession from Todoroki Shōto would be like.”

<——————————<<<<

[ Masterlist ]

[chirpy-poppy]

Our Pin

When Darkwick allows you to choose one of the houses to join, how will they convince you?

Inspired by this ask/post.

Frostheim “Wait,” Jin grunts at you as you approach the door, done with his errands for the day. He tosses something at you which you barely manage to catch. When you do, you recognize the deep blue pin. “You’d be set for life with the connections you make here. Choose wisely.” Jin is a man of few words, but you’d hear most of Frostheim’s pitch from Kaito who basically begs you to join them. Lucas would come with a few logical points about why you should choose Frostheim, and Tohma would keep you so busy with tasks, you wouldn’t be able to visit other houses during your decision period.

Vagastrom “It’ll be pretty cool if we lived a little closer together, Senpai. I’ll cook for you every day.” Sho is the only one who’d want you at Vagastrom. Alan gives you a stern warning not to do something so dangerous. Leo’s existence alone convinces you to stay far away.

JabberwockThey use their fluffy animals to their full advantage. Haru takes you on a Cappybus tour to see all the cutest animals while Towa engulfs you in the most fragrant flowers. Ren might actually beg you to join them too since you are actually willing to do the chores. Towa gives you such a puppy look while Haru discreetly pins the orange brooch onto your lapel. Peekaboo lets out the saddest “Booo” when you leave for the day. How can you ever refuse them? 

SinostraRomeo had given Taiga a lecture on their objective just before you were scheduled to meet them, so the captain actually remembers who you are when you walk in. “Hello, Kitten,” he purrs as you come in with some documents. He somehow gets you strapped into his torture chair and is about to stab the brooch into your jacket when Romeo bursts in. “You’re supposed to convince her, not force her!” “Why? It’s so much easier this way.” Taiga spins his revolver before placing it on your temple. Ritsu steps in at this moment to quote some law that no one is really paying attention to. Taiga and Romeo get into such an argument that no one notices you slipping away and running for your life.

Hotarubi The three invite you over for tea. At the end of it, Subaru presents you with the amethyst brooch in an intricately carved wooden box. “We would love it if you would join Hotarubi, PC. Of course, we want you to make the decision you believe is best for you, but you should know you are always welcomed and appreciated here.” As Haku walks you home, he purposefully takes a scenic route through Hotarubi. He’d gently pitch his own house but reminds you they are here for you no matter what decision you make. 

ObscuaryWas unfortunately not one of the options available to you. Rui is quite relieved though. He isn’t sure how he can live constantly worried about touching something as weak as a human. He also knows he could never live with himself if something happened to you, and the risk of it increases so much more if you stayed in his dorm. Lyca is completely bummed though. He thought he had a chance to finally have a friend at the dorm. He does not understand why you can’t stay at Obscuary since he’s here and he’s human too. Ed thinks it’s a shame, but he is sure you’d visit often still.

Mortkranken“Humph! You should feel honored to even be considered joining Mortkranken,” Yuri gloats, dangling the brooch in front of you. “He desperately wants you to join,” Jiro deadpans. “Jiro! Can you shut it! I mean, I wouldn’t mind if you did since you are a very interesting subject.” Yuri’s blush isn’t fooling anyone as he shoves the teal accessory into your hands. Despite his shyness, he still keeps you around for another three hours helping him pipette. As you get ready to leave, he calls your name. “Consider it. You… You aren’t repulsive, at least.”

A/N: Thank you to those who sent in prompts. I'm sorry if I don't get to yours, but I will only be writing those that spark an idea. I don't want to write something bleh just to fulfill an ask. Thank you for your submission though!

[burytheruby]

HIII CAN WE PLS HAVE P2 OF THE PRICE DAUGHTER AND SIMON STORY??? PLS 😣 THE WRITING IS GOOD AND THE STORY IS JUST *chefs kiss* 💋💋💋 I WANNA SEE THEM LATER ON IN THEIR RELATIONSHIP 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏😞😣🩷🩷💕

I N A P P R O P I A T E I I

the answer is YES I CAN 🙈 thank you everyone for the support! I unfortunately have been crazy busy with the holidays, then my birthday (yay 20!), then back to uni 😭 but I did promise I would come back, and so there will be a tag list for whoever wants to be updated!

𐬺𐬽𐬾❤︎︎𐬾𐬽𐬺

IN which Captain Price is your father, and he has accepted your feelings for his lieutenant.

OR: late night talks and confessions, your father would do anything to make you happy.

Part 1; you're in Part 2

MINORS Do NOT Interact.

Warnings: age gap, fem! reader, ooc, canon divergent, still learning british slang please bear with me. WC: 1657

English is my second language.

Captain Price had dreaded this day, he never thought he'd see a future where you would come to him and ask him for advice. advice on romance. all because of his lieutenant. damn him. you sat next to him on the couch, shifting awkwardly as you both stared straight ahead at the tv, a game playing in the background. your father's favorite team, you noticed, against the team Simon had mentioned liking himself. almost humorous, Price had noticed the clear tension since your birthday two weeks ago. he appreciated the fact that his lieutenant was being careful, neither acknowledging the very needed—talk, let's call it.

but of course, you were never one to dance around the subject.

"we need to talk," you said simultaneously, it would've been endearing if it weren't for the fact that the talk was not about what dinner would be tonight, or who you thought would win the game playing on the tv, not even about the professor you loathed and couldn't wait to leave her class.

you turned to face your father, fidgeting with the pendant hanging on your neck—the one Simon gave you, of course. your father really tried to not roll his eyes and scoff at the sight, he has definitely given you prettier jewelry—or at least that's what he thinks. you wouldn't tell him you grew out of the heart shaped jewelry; it would break his own heart. after a long, tension-filled moment of silence, you finally spoke, your voice breaking through. "I think 'm old enough to know, dad." you sighed, as if trying to let go of the tension in your body. "an' s'not like we're not conscious of how this may look." you admitted, looking away as you clenched your fists.

yeah, you guessed it would be weird if the man you knew for most of your life suddenly became your lover. age gaps were taboo, especially one such as yours. but who cared? Simon saw you as a petulant, spoiled child until last year—not like he would tell you that, he wouldn't stand listening to your huffs and scoffs of complaints (acting as if he isn't your biggest enabler). that's beside the point, anyway. right now, your focus was on your father, a pensive look on his features as he looked at you.

and then you felt a little guilty when you recognized the tiniest hint of his eyes glazing—just for a second, just enough to ignite concern in you. "m'not getting sent away, y'know." you tried to lift the mood, and he could only smile a little. you were just as awful as he was when it came to comfort, and that was okay. he placed a hand on top of yours, giving a gentle squeeze as his eyes went to your every feature– from the shape of your nose to the volume of your lashes, you were his perfect girl. he often joked he birthed you, something you hated the imagery of no matter how sickly sweet it was that you were his daughter.

"aye, I know." he said, giving a tender kiss to your temple in a moment of vulnerability. his lips lingered there, feeling his heart squeeze and tear at the fact that he knew he had to let go. it was just hard, from the little girl he'd take everywhere, to the woman you were now. your father knew there was no point in trying to change your mind–or your heart, you were dead set on what you wanted. curse his own self. his hand let go of yours, and he pulled away from you. the gears inside his head were turning, the slow but steady acceptance of the relationship between you and his lieutenant.

"he's been less ratty lately," he admitted, his attention turning back to the tv as the opposing team scored. he scoffed, it was as if the universe wanted to mock him. "never heard him make so many bloody awful jokes in just two weeks." Price couldn't help but smile, seeing the rest of the team so distraught–except for Soap, that instigator–was exhilarating to him.

“yeah? m’sure he got ‘em from ya.” you couldn’t contain the smile on your face, seeing as Simon’s team was winning by a landslide. Price cursed under his breath, the hissing sound of the now opened beer brought your attention back to him, the features of your father illuminated by the light of the tv. his eye bags that become more prominent after every mission, the smile lines barely concealed by his mustache connected to his beard. your father hummed in response, sipping on the awfully bitter beer that your father enjoyed. for a picky drinker, he sure enjoyed the most awful you've ever tried.

"princess," your eyes roamed back up to his face, leaning your head on his shoulder with a sigh. with a tiny hum, expressing your attention, he then spoke again. "don't tell him I told you, but Simon's taking a week off duty." your eyes widened at that, then grew to confusion. Simon? Taking a break? That was new. The thought made your heart flutter, smiling subconsciously as yet another cheer could be heard from the tv, but you couldn't find yourself caring enough to see who had scored.

Instead, you checked your phone as it vibrated, a text on the screen making you sit up with an even bigger grin.

"I'll be back by this weekend, let me take you out on a date."

𐬺𐬽𐬾❤︎︎𐬾𐬽𐬺

"shite," you cursed under your breath. your room was a mess, with clothes sprawled all over your bed and the wardrobe. it was Thursday, just a day away from seeing him again, and not a piece of clothing convinced you enough for the date. too formal? too casual? too feminine? a dress, or maybe jeans? you sighed in frustration, your fingertips softly massaging your temples as you sat on the chair of your dressing table. it's not like Simon puts much effort into his own attire, but this is a date. where are you going, again?

realization dawned as you realized he did not, in fact, tell you what the date would be. you cursed again, getting up only to slump down in your bed. should I text him? you thought, only to discard the idea almost immediately. he was busy, he's a lieutenant dealing with death's doorstep in every mission, and my father, that's enough stress. at the end of the day, all you achieved was to reorganize your wardrobe, and to make dinner for you and your father—if he came home tonight.

waiting in the dining table, poking at your food until the light sound of the keys jiggling and the door opening made your head snap up, finding your father walking in with something inside his duffel bag. "princess, I've got ya a gift from Simon." he unzipped the bag, and inside was a box–a brand box, your favorite to be specific. you gave a quick thanks to your father as you skipped past him, straight to your bedroom to open the box.

"thank you, Simon." was the text you sent immediately upon seeing what the box contained—a dress, of your favorite style and a color that complimented you just right. Simon knew you too well, or maybe he noticed the small things that others usually would not, such as the neckline of the dress that would look best with the pendant—yeah, maybe he really kept that in mind, and having you show it off for everyone to see that you are not going to be available in the foreseeable future.

Friday morning came around too quickly, waking up in the comfort of your bed to a message from Simon stating he would be back by the evening for your date.

hair up, or down? natural or should you just go bald? your makeup trials seemed to go wrong each time, from too bold of a color for your features, to barely noticeable blush you tried to add. maybe low heels, and maybe a few other jewelries. your head spun from stress, and it wasn't until your heart began to beat a little too faster that you finally took a break. Relax. you scolded yourself, your own reflection looking back at you as this time you managed to make your eyeliner even on both sides.

it was almost ridiculous, you told yourself, to fret this badly over a date. this isn't just a date, is it? it's the man you claimed to your father you would marry way back then, when you were just a child and caught a glimpse of the man wearing those dad-glasses you quietly make fun of. glancing over at the wall, you cursed when the time was past noon and almost evening. you had to finish now.

in the end, you decided to go for something a little outside of what your usual is, but nonetheless you kept getting complimented by your father as you walked back and forth on the living room. "a doll" he called you, and called Simon a bastard under his breath just in case he fucks up tonight. he gave you a reassuring smile and hid in the kitchen when the door was knocked. with sweaty hands and a heartbeat way above the normal speed, you opened the door to Simon with a smile on your face.

"love," he breathed out, his deep eyes roaming up and down how gorgeous you looked—as always. his hand came up to cradle your cheek, his lips just grazing your lips with a smile. "gorgeous, lovely." he all but purred, making your skin tingle and your face grow hot. you smiled in response, just about to close the gap when you remembered that your father was right there, hidden but there.

Well, the make out could wait until the date.

𐬺𐬽𐬾❤︎︎𐬾𐬽𐬺

AUGHHH part two is finally here, everyone do a standing ovation

[jacevelaryonswife]

The way that you move

It wasn’t appropriate for a lady of respect to desire the lusts of the flesh, but the fire in your bowels kept your mind trapped in a single and delicious setting

pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x wife!reader

warnings: porn with 10% of plot. p in v sex. english is not my first language. 1,1k.

Even if it’s recent, your marriage to Prince Jacaerys was very promising and pleasant due to the commitment employed by both parts. Your husband was very polite, good-natured and kind, and you strove to be the proper and loving lady wife that Rhaenyra Targaryen's heir needed. In addition, the engagement period was charming and prepared the ground for a young and happy union, much better than most of the weddings of the other court ladies in all aspects. Or almost all because unfortunately not everything was flowers. The subject in question referred to the misfortune moment of bed that tormented you and your husband.

Neither of you had experience, which made it a little traumatic for both of you, especially painful for you but quite fast too, proving to be a great relief (not crookedly for Jace). Throughout the act the prince remained redder than a ripe tomato and hated several aspects that were part of that situation, the first was not being able to reverse the pain you felt, because he didn’t know the female body to bring some relief to his good wife and because it ended up faster than dornish wine in celebrations. The precocity wasn’t at all bad for the situation, but it wasn’t exactly the virtue that a man should be proud of — but it served to your beautiful face was no longer dented with discomfort.

He apologized vehemently after that and assured that he didn't want to hurt you and that you didn't need to do it again without wanting to, a really sweet gesture that had you waving to him and ensuring that everything was fine. “My mother said the first contacts are painful for the chaste ladies,” you said. And in fact it was terribly uncomfortable, until last night...

Gods, what was that? It was the best physical feeling you felt in your life and it seemed so profane to admit it while letting pleasurable sounds escape your throat. It was so good! And that was the problem!

How should you approach your husband about repeating that night? It wasn’t appropriate for a lady of respect to desire the lusts of the flesh, but the fire in your bowels kept your mind trapped in a single and delicious setting, so your only mission that day was to find a demure way to ask your sweet Jace to make you come as your friends had instructed. What a scandal! There was no way to say this out loud, not even other ways to approach the topic seemed decent! Everything seemed like a complete disaster until the moon emerged and the inhabitants of Dragonstone gathered in your chambers, just like your husband and you.

The thick sheet that wrapped your body was responsible for hiding most of the bold and light blue lacy dress you wore, but it didn’t go unnoticed by the watchful eye of Prince Jacaerys, especially when he joined you in bed. That was the ideal moment to execute your plan in the urgency of the last minutes, which consisted solely of action.

"Jace, husband, can I kiss you?" You tried to contain the anxiety of what you wanted to happen next by leaning over it gently.

“Of course you can, my love,” he smiled sweetly and his beautiful brown eyes shone with tenderness. He was so adorable.

After many attempts (some slow and others sloppy) you understood a part of the mechanics of kisses and began to appreciate and perform the art often. His full and terribly soft lips were pressed so pleasantly against yours in the initially chaste kiss, who became sensual and lustful thanks to your desire. Oh, you couldn't wait any longer.

Climbing on his hips, you interrupted the kiss to face those beautiful brown eyes. "I want to do what we did last night."

“D-do you, my lady?” He asked surprised, "do you really want to?"

“Yes, husband,” you purred and kissed him deliciously again, playing with his tongue as you moved your intimacy dressed over his groin, making you both sigh. “I want it now,” you said during the kiss, sitting in the center of his body to remove the dress and expose your naked body.

The poor prince followed the whole situation astonished, stunned by his newly existing disinhibition but not a little dissatisfied (just worried). "M-my lady, shouldn't we wait until you're ready?"

“I'm already, my prince, I've been ready since the first rays of sunshine,” you knew what he was referring to and learned from the other ladies that the moisture between the thighs was a positive indication. And you've been uncomfortable wet since you woke up. "Do you want that?"

“I do,” he nodded hypnotized, holding his soft hips to squeeze the flesh gently.

It was not secret that the prince has never been with a woman before and the fact never bothered him, but he would like to have experience to properly satisfy his wife in pleasure meetings. He quickly flipped through a book on the subject as his cheeks warmed up and his limb hardened shamefully. After that he tried to remember some information to use at the moment, such as knowing that women needed time and a certain humidity so that they could feel pleasure, however, almost all reasoning was lost when your hands released his masculinity and involved him. He grunted low in response, breathing hard to prepare for the- Seven heavens!

You sank deliciously into the thick and soft shaft, ecstatic by the indiscriminate sensation of being filled. There was no way for something so good to be considered depravity, no, it was totally adequate, it was so right to jump freely on the cock of your charming Jacaerys and enjoy what he had to offer. The prince was so confused, drunk and excited by the way everything happened that he was dazzled by the beast that mounted him ardently. If in the previous times he made an effort not to end quickly, this time he was begging the seven heavens for the moment to last.

“Take off your tunic, my love, I want to see you,” you said between sighs, moving up and down constantly, moaning shamelessly.

He did what was asked, sitting in bed with you on your lap just to kiss you fervently and pull you down with him, moving your hips with yours. The gesture was much appreciated when his legs got tired of doing all the hard work, limiting himself to rubbing against his groin while he repeated the action, the constant and strong friction.

“Wait! Wait! I need some time... I-I want this to last,” he said between heavy breaths, almost begging.

"Right, right."

— "It's hard to describe, it's intense, hot and your whole body shudders at the sensation. It's probably the best thing you'll feel in your life."

Your friend Belinda's explanation of the apex of female pleasure returned to surrounding your mind again, making you yearn to discover such a sensation. It was torturous to accommodate your husband inside and not be able not to move your hips, even though it was for good reason. And he, well, he was almost exploding with pleasure.

Jace pulled you for an excited and demanding kiss, very different from the ones you used to share but just as good. Good? No, better. His tongue touched yours in a different and sloppy way, which would strumble you

The prince wasn’t blind about women but never dared to give himself to a pleasure before the wedding — he was less man for that. He thought he wouldn’t be so affected by carnal pleasure, but he could not deny that the attraction he felt for his beautiful wife increased every day and each time you lay down together. He longed for it more quietly.

“Keep going, my love,” he held your buttocks when you remained in the same position, moving your hips experimentally to keep up with your pace.

“Yes, husband,” you sighed numb, kissing him again as you moved sloppyly, dragging your hips against his groin. Gods, how good it was.

Although he was loving the position he was in, Jace felt a sudden urge to cage your body against the bed, so he turned you lovingly to take control and pushed your hips against his at a constant pace that stole the air from both of you. The thought that happened in your head was indecent, but it was the complete reality of the situation. It wasn't love made between you and your husband, no, you were fucking with all the lust there was.

He rested his face on your neck as he hit you deeply, the delicious and maddening friction building a euphoria in your unknown stomach and making your walls squeeze madly. “Jace!” You moaned loudly, scratching his back as you held him more between your legs. “Oh! Jace!” Your sight turned white and your whole body spasmed on bed, the most wonderful feeling in the world numbing your senses.

That was too much for him. Both the grip around his cock, as well as your sounds, as well as the call by his name and his own limit sent him to the apex in the blink of an eye, grunting in your ear in such a sensual and deep way that it made you squeeze even more. For the seven, what had just happened?

Such pleasure from such indecency made him hot, confused and red like wine. Your breaths were heavy and agitated, stabilizing slowly and silently on the soft bed as you sighed satisfied with what had just happened. "So that's how it feel? Now I understand why some people indulge in promiscuity," you commented in a good mood, feeling your body return to normal. "We will do this more often, yes, husband?"

Who was he to deny your request? (Especially on the content of the request).

"Of course, my lady." Yes, your husband was perfect.

═════════════════════

taglist

general: @valeskafics @fan-goddess @kravitzwhore @partypoison00

jace velaryon: @howyouloveyourdragon

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - stalking, unhealthy relationships, mentions of masturbation, obsessive behavior, and medical malpractice galore.

Harper is the kind of man who can't help but study what he loves.

It's a bad habit - an unfortunate combination of natural curiosity and burning academic passion that always seems to end with a mess and a few broken toys. A childhood fascination with insects might lead to shoeboxes full of tattered wings and twitching bodies. A passing interest in hemogobular coagulation would be poured into a university internship that gave him access to more pints of blood than he knew what to do with, despite his best attempts to put it all to good use. A lasting fondness for hypnosis could, theoretically, earn him a small collection of pocket watches, a soothing timbre that often played underneath his passive speaking voice, and a few asylum patients too far gone to ever truly recover.

His research wasn't always destructive, but it could be. His love tended to veer towards obsession; the kind of burning infatuations that could leave more than a little devastation in its wake, if he wasn't careful. A measured amount of collateral damage was acceptable, compared to the alternative.

He studies you, too. Idly, at first - nothing more than an intrusive thought allowed to fester during your all-too-infrequent appointments, a quick jolt of excitement when he noticed your name on his schedule - then more consciously, in the form of an extra question asked at the very end of his time with you, a note tacked onto your file that doesn't strictly have to do with your health. His chances for observation are limited. You rarely make it to your therapy sessions, no matter how often he insists you should see him, and you're sturdier than he'd like, too used to being thrown around and mistreated to come running to him every time you scrape your knees. That's something he decides he doesn't like about you fairly early on. Part of a case study is deciding which parts of your subject will need to be adapted, and even you aren't beyond correction.

He records your reactions to his mis-prescribed medication with a religious sort of zealousness, reviews your symptoms and lab results while fucking his fist in-time with your pulse. He makes sure to visit your bedside personally whenever you find your way into his emergency room, and you're rewarded for your newfound attentiveness with a healthy supply of shots that leave you too removed from reality to remember your time on his examination table. Harper's always preferred the written word, but he find himself with a budding appreciation for film during his nightly evaluation of your records. His memory is keen enough, but there's nothing quite like being able to study your body detail by detail whenever he isn't fortunate enough to have access to the real thing.

He thinks, as he watches a pair of his nurses drag you through the asylum doors, that it might be time to start the next leg of his study. Studying is useful, but you've always benefited from more proactive measures, more personal attention. It'd be a discredit to his occupation if he was too preoccupied with his own little pleasures to see to the needs of his favorite patient.

It's far past time he moved on to more hands-on research methods, when it comes to you.

[k1ng-ej]

You don't have to make them childhood friends, but can you make a fem reader having an anathor super close friend who approached Thomas with the reader first. Because the reader was super shy/emotional back then and just couldn't approach anyone for the fear of being bullied or vulnerable. But what Thomas didn't know was that the reader's close and technically only friend was very toxic. She's kind and all. But a HUGE liar. Sometimes, making the reader take the blame for everything or just make her look bad, but because the reader was afraid to be alone, not to mention loving this friend very much. She just couldn't leave them.

And when they are a bit older, she did fall for Thomas, but because they were used to being the second option and since the friend was just so perfect in every way (even though they weren't). The reader assumes Thomas would always pick them over her, and because of that, she never said anything.

Hi! Thank you for the request! I hope I've written this to your liking! :)

Thomas Hewitt x reader

Summary: Reader has a toxic friend who lies and makes her look bad a lot, they both befriend Thomas, Eventually reader develops feelings for Thomas, but doesn't say anything because she assumes Thomas would choose her friend over her. Warnings: none Notes: Lowkey was kicking my feet writing the last bit

During your childhood, your shyness led you to be quite reserved, which resulted in difficulties when it came to forming meaningful friendships. This left you with just one close companion, Emily, who, on the surface, seemed like an outgoing and friendly individual who treated everyone with kindness. However, beneath this cheerful facade, your relationship with her was quite toxic, as she persistently engaged in reckless behavior and cleverly shifted the blame onto you, placing you in extremely challenging situations. Despite the emotional betrayal and the unfair consequences you faced, you were never able to muster the courage to confront her about her actions, fearing that you might lose the only friendship you had.

One sunny afternoon after school, she took the initiative to introduce you to a boy named Thomas, who was frequently subjected to bullying due to his appearance. As you spent time together, you discovered that Thomas was quite introverted and preferred to keep to himself, never speaking a word. Despite the silence, you found that you genuinely enjoyed his company; he had a kind nature that shone through, and it became evident to you that he didn't deserve the treatment he received from others.

Unfortunately for you, Emily also liked hanging out with Thomas, often making you an outcast in your small group of three. 

Throughout your teenage years, your friendship with Tommy deepened, and you found yourself developing a crush on him. You felt a unique connection with him, understanding his body language and recognizing his unspoken thoughts through the expression in his eyes, something Emily didn't seem to grasp as well. You contemplated confessing your feelings, but the thought quickly vanished as you glanced at Emily. If Tommy were to have feelings for anyone, it would surely be her. With her stunning blonde curls, rosy cheeks, and vibrant personality she seemed like the perfect match. Plus, Emily spent significantly more time with Tommy, giving him the opportunity to know her better than he knew you.

However, as more time went by, the intensity of your feelings for Thomas only deepened, becoming a constant presence in your heart and mind. Butterflies would flit and flutter around in your stomach every single time you spent time together, filling you with a mix of excitement and anxiety as you hoped he didn't notice how nervous you were when he was around. You found yourself fidgeting with your hands, a nervous habit that seemed impossible to shake as you talked to him, and you often avoided making direct eye contact, only allowing yourself to look at him when you were sure he wasn't watching you back.

You found yourself daydreaming about the moments you spent together, wondering if he would ever notice you in that way. Each shared glance and accidental touch only intensified the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

It wasn't until two years after you developed a crush on Thomas that you finally decided to confess your feelings.

The intensity of your emotions was overwhelming, leading you into a spiral of self-doubt as you constantly compared yourself to Emily. Ultimately, you resolved to take the plunge and tell him, reassuring yourself that the worst he could do was reject you.

Now, you find yourself seated beside him on a quaint bench near your old elementary school, your heart racing and hands trembling. You ve rehearsed countless times how to express your feelings, yet with him so close, your mind has gone completely blank. All you yearn for is to leave your emotions behind and learn to move on.

"Thomas.." you finally uttered, taking a deep breath and straightening your posture. He turned his gaze toward you, worry etched across his features as his eyes searched your face. You couldn't bring yourself to look him in the eye, opting instead to observe him through your periphery.

"I've been wanting to share something with you for quite some time, but I've never found the courage to do so." Your voice trembled as you spoke, and warmth crept into your cheeks. "For the past couple of years, l've had a crush on you, but i never expressed it because I feared rejection and worried that you would always choose Emily over me."

A tremendous weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

After all this time, you finally found the courage to express your feelings to Tommy. The relentless anxiety that consumed you whenever he was around had taken a toll both mentally and physically, and now, you felt a sense of relief in voicing your emotions. As you anxiously picked at the skin around your nails, you braced yourself for Thomas' reaction, fully expecting him to either walk away or give you that unmistakable look that would signal your feelings weren't mutual.

What you didn't anticipate was the sensation of a rough, calloused hand intertwining with yours, jolting you from your thoughts. When you turned to Thomas, he initially fixed his gaze on the bench, but when he finally met your eyes, everything changed. His eyes, always beautiful and one of his most noteworthy features, now appeared even more captivating. With his pupils dilated and an unspoken message of 'I like you too' reflected in them, you felt a warmth spread inside you, melting your heart just a little.