#nonbinary reader

[embossmoss]

Telly NSFW Alphabet Headcanons

Telly uses They/he pronouns. I prefer to stick to they/them pronouns but they are referred to by he/him pronouns once or twice. I will always write Telly with amab anatomy!

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

They get you a glass of water, run you a warm bath and get in behind you, washing and brushing your hair, an icepack for any swelling or headaches, ibuprofen and paracetamol for anything that still hurts after a good soak in the bath. They'll dry you off, help get you dressed and ready for bed, and cuddle with you till you fall asleep while rubbing your back and running fingers through your hair.

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

Telly doesn't have a favourite part of your body. They think it's shallow. They love all of you. Stretch marks, anything you're insecure about. But if they have to pick, it's your ass, thighs, and your lips. But they'll say it like they have to think about it.

Their favourite thing of their body? How could they pick just one thing?? But they like their ass, they have a good ass, might not be a bubble but, but it ain't flat.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

They love seeing you covered in their cum. But they hate the mess, the aftermath is a big eye roll, but they do the clean up without much complaint. And help you wash up.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

They'll never admit it and will never bring it up, but they've thought about participating in threesomes and more. They know it's not all that abnormal, like it's a pretty common fantasy, but they will never verbally admit it…

That and the fact they've thought about fucking some of the others in the house absolutely senseless… Nothing has ever come from that though.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Telly knows exactly what they're doing. They've had a few little flings, nothing too serious, just friends with benefits. They've talked about it with you.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

As long as they can see your cute faces and perfect reactions, they don't care. But they are partial to anything cuddly, having you in their lap or your legs over their shoulders.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Lots of jokes and quip-y comments, but not the whole time. They do take it seriously. Until you're both tired and catching your breaths, then they're making jokes.

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

Telly isn't super hair generally and keeps up a pretty regular manscaping routine. But if you show even the slightest interest their snail trail… you better believe they're letting that shit grow out, but it's still neat and properly trimmed.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Gosh, Telly is a big romantic at heart, oil massages, taking their time with you, really making sure you're comfortable and ready for whatever comes next, candles, quiet music or a stupid background show, they don't care, whatever you prefer. Big on body worship and sensual touching.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Telly would rather have sex with you than Jack off, but if you're not in the mood or said no, which is totally okay, they're not going to persist.

But it's nothing special, just a private space. Preferably with a door that locks, but the thought of you walking in and seeing is pretty exciting.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Biggest praise kink. Giving and receiving. Their also super into bondage, being tied up and tying up their WILLING participant. And they could worship your body for hours without a second thought to themselves.

Their also a bit of an exhibitionist, but it's the thought of getting caught or heard, not actually getting caught.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

Wherever you're most comfortable, but definitely the bedroom and any surface that's hip hight so they can lay you back with your legs on their shoulders… And in the shower, they can't help it!

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

Just you, you give them a cute look? Hard. You dress in anything that flatters your figure? Hard. They can't help it! You're too damn cute! And sexy and hot!

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Degradation kink. They hate it. It plays into their insecurities. They won't shame you for it, but it's a firm hard "no thanks"

And daddy kinks, their not your daddy, call their name, scream their name. They want to hear it, not "daddy"

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

Would much rather give. They savour your thighs squeezing their head, your sounds with their tongue and mouth around you. Gosh, they'd melt into a puddle if they could.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Telly is a mix of both, a good even they reckon, but perfectly happy to slow down or speed up, they don't particularly like being rough, they don't like hurting you if they can avoid. But if you want them to be rough, they can be rough.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

They'd prefer to set up a nice space and take their time with you, but they wouldn’t say no if you ask. Especially if you’re both out and about, they're down for the risk of someone hearing you both.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Telly is down to try anything new! You see something that looks exciting, think of a new fantasy, hear of a new kink. Anything, as long as it's safe. But exhibitionism and the risk of getting caught is exciting, but not actually getting caught or seen.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Don't test them. They can go hours if in the right mood. In those moods, there are definitely three rounds, at least. But will give you plenty of recovery time between rounds.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Oh God, they have quite a few male toys, but not really interested in those fake pussies and holes, not when they have the real thing. But they have vibrating and non-vibrating cock rings, and their not really toys, but ribbed and textured condoms. Just for fun.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh, their a giant tease! Especially with edging you, god, your face looks amazing like that! They can't help but tease you for some of your begging and noises you made while you guys were going at it! But they tease you for that stuff after.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Telly is LOUD! Like really loud. The whole house knows what's going on. Very big groaner. But their head falls beside yours, and they try to keep their volume down so they're not making your ears ring. But give them a minute, and they're a whining mess.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Expect a lot of photo's, Telly is sure to ask permission. They're not getting posted anywhere or uploaded to any cloud system or anything. Their just for Telly, and you if you'd like. You're welcome to take your own photos of them.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Well, you already have a pretty good idea of their figure from their tight clothes, but their size? Definitely above average, they wouldn’t say large, but above average. And even though they're amab, they like to chest tape, it makes them comfortable. They're comfortable in their body, but they like tapping.

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

Not constant, but they'd say it's high, wanting to have sex every other day, but not needing to have sex or wank every other day, a couple days a week would be nice, but not necessary.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Telly does his best to stay up longer than you. And they do most of the time, unless they're completely spent. They pull you into their chest and just lay with your head onto their chest.

***

🐉Requests are open!!🌿

[freakywrites]

Jjk sub men part 2

Part 1

Just incase I didn't get ur fav ;3

Characters- Sukuna/Toji/Choso

Reader is made to be as gender neutral as possible for everyone's entertainment! <33

Warning: NSFW content, UNEDITED, Men will be begging for a pegging, MDI....or like .. don't let me catch u? Idk BDSM? Nothing vanilla 4 u here!

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Sukuna-muzzle/leash/cock ring/power bottom reader?(Like they are getting fucked but is Dom)

God, you could barely breathe as Sukuna pounded in you, his member absolutely ravishing your stomach. You tugged at the leather leash around his neck, making him let out a low grumble that stutters as he presses his head on your back, the metal of the muzzle touching your hot skin. His hands are gripped at the mattress below your body. slick with sweat his tattooed arms flex and relaxed as you fuck on him , his eyes hazy with lust he was absolutely lost.

You never thought he would enjoy this so much, especially when you told him you wanted to control but here he is absolutely drooling and twitching, not making much sound until he felt the cock ring he had on hug his erection painfully good. "That's it- so patient for me," you coo as you got up from your stomach to kiss his covered cheek tugging the leash up to expose his flush neck for you to bite down on. His hand grips at your hips slamming his dick into your walls. You kiss up to his ear and whispered, "Want me to take the ring off?" You nuzzled his head, and he hummed. "mm-mmhmm" he could barely say anything. You tease moving your hips down.

"Yeah? Want to cum so hard right?" You lick at his ear, his hips go faster his grunts getting louder. With a quick move, you slipped him out of you. You see his member was red and twitching, sliding the ring out you gasp as hot cum spurts out his cock twitching, a broken hum escaping Sukuna's throat.

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Toji- handcuffs/blindfold/oil/chest play/toys

At first Toji didn't feel good about the blindfolds and handcuffs when you said it wasn't for you but for him. "I mean I'm ok with it but I don't know if being the one tied down is for me." He says as he get handcuffed to the bed and you hummed giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Come on at least try it — here." You say covering his eyes with the blindfold leaving him in darkness. "Just listen to my voice ok?" You whisper in his ear, he nodded and chuckles. "Yes master." His jokes stopped when he felt a liquid being poured on his chest it was cold but soon hot when he felt your hand smearing it all over him your warm hands spread from his arm, chest then abs and back.

This vulnerable state made him dizzy he didn't know what you'll do next and every touch he let's put a sigh. "Is this a perverted massage?" He breathes out as your hands tease his chest and nipples. In complete darkness he can hear your smile. "maybe" you say before latching your lips against his erect brown nipple making him clutch on the handcuffs. You hummed as you sucked kisses all over his chest and down to his abs "that's it baby focus on my touch." You speak and Toji was certainly doing that well it's the only thing he can do and then before he knew it his hard cock was out of his pants and displayed to you. "Poor Toji so hard with no treatment." You hum rubbing the tip with your oiled palm his oozing pre mixing with the oil.

The older man bucked his hips turning his head to the side in embarrassment. But he suddenly whipped his head back when he heard a buzzing sound. "what- what was that?" He said nervous before arching his back as the buzzing object rubs at his dick. "Fuck!" He hissed as it raises up to rub at his tip.

Before he knew it the buzzing increased two? Three? one taped to each of his swollen nipples and one rubbing on his hard and overstimulated cock. God it's too much he completely got destroyed when you shoved some in his ass his legs couldn't stop shaking and his dick was twitching like crazy his tongue slipping out his mouth as he cums for what seems like the 10th time "nngh!?" His toes curled into the sheets his body arching up off the bed as the cum spurted out of him. And all you did was pepper him with kisses. "that's it, one more ok?"

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Choso- soft dom/bj (Choso receiving/public restroom/embarrassment/ lingerie (on choso)/ he eats his own cum

"Ssh you're doing so good." You whisper into Choso's blushing ear. "Hic...ss.. sorry..hic" he tried to control his sobbing it was just so embarrassing and honestly that shame? Felt...good. "Aw poor baby, don't cry." You say kissing his tears away as you stroke his cock. You look down at the black lace lingerie that Choso lewdly wore, nipples exposed just a couple of strings that were supposed to be a bra lowering your gaze you see he wore the cute matching see through panties that had a slit in the middle exposed his shameful erection.

Another loud sob escaped Choso's lips and he quickly covered his mouth making you smirk as you whispered. "Not so loud don't want those people outside the stall to know you're doing something so dirty." You tease as you hear other people chat from outside of the stall. Choso shook, holding onto the metal of the toilet almost falling on the floor if you didn't pin him to the wall. "You look so cute Choso, it's so erotic these sounds you make, so excited to be in public." You say and he presses his head to your shoulder.

His hips twitch as you stroke his cock his eyes grow wide as more people enter the restroom his dick twitching in your hand and you laugh. "wanna show these people you're having a good time?" You said before you squatted down taking him in your mouth making him moan a little too loudly. "ngghh-eait!wait! Hic hannggh." His head slammed back on the wall with a loud bang. His hand desperately grabbed at the bathroom bar. You couldn't help it you wanted to make him louder I mean look at that desperate tear filled face. Your hands snaked from his lace thigh highs to his ass giving it a good squeeze as you suck him off. Humming pleased with the way his free hand traced the string of a bra teasing himself as he gropes and pinches his pink nipples.

He bit his lip staring at you his hips rocking faster as he felt his climax rushing in it felt so close his tear stained face looked so cute covered in sweat and blush, furrowed brows and puffy eyes. "L-like that!" He whispered as he reaches his peak cum spurting in your mouth. You giggle getting up grabbing his face roughly enough for him to get dizzy as you kiss him deeply let him taste himself and all he could do was breath heavily and push into you and in pants you pull away. "This time Tuesday got it?" You say and Choso nods "y-yes" he says his cum in the corner of his mouth.

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A/N Uhhhh... So like part 2 done?

I tried to think what the characters would like ik most wouldn't like freaky deaky but I thought if they did what would it be!

Hope this was good ik a lot of ppl wanted a part 2 to I hope it met expectations! Anyways it's finished!!

- Anyways love y'all XOXO 💋❤️💋💕💕

[upon-sunflower-trails]

technical difficulties

tenna x reader | part 1 | 1308 words

in which you discover a little secret of your boss'...

maybe i'll make a continuation to this fic if i feel like it (or if there's enough demand for it)

UPDATE: part 2 of this fic is here!

warnings: VERY suggestive, boss x employee relationship, not proofread!!

work below the cut!

It hadn't been long now that you'd been working under Mr. Ant Tenna at the TV station. For the most part, you kept to yourself, unless your assistance was needed by the film crew. You kept Tenna's station running smoothly thanks to the work you did.

Which was exactly why he wanted to do something to thank you.

His plan was simple, really. Surprise you with a cake (with help from Ramb, of course), give you a fancy pen, and then sincerely thank you. You'd be smiling and on your way, and Tenna could get back to his regularly scheduled broadcast.

"Mr. Tenna?" You knocked on the door to his office, stack of papers in hand. You had made sure to painstakingly scrawl out the schedule for next week's broadcast on paper, after copying it from the spreadsheet you made on your computer at home. Tenna didn't need to know that, though. He hated anything to do with emails and whatnot, meaning on office hours, you worked by hand. About a week into working for the TV-headed man, you realized how inefficient that system was, and opted for secretly configuring schedules at home before transferring them over to bring to work. What your boss didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

The door flung open, nearly knocking you over with its gusto. "Y/N! My most valued employee, the star of the show! Come in, come in!" His beaming smile never seemed to waver as he ushered you into his office.

The sheer size of him never failed to take you aback for a moment. Your boss towered over you, and his larger-than-life personality certainly didn't help. You offered him a small smile back before dropping the papers off on his desk.

"Here's the schedule for next week, sir. I'm guessing that's why you wanted to see me?" Your tone was slightly cautious. You knew that Tenna could be a bit unpredictable, which was why receiving a one-on-one invitation to his office worried you-- just a bit.

Tenna barked out a laugh, shaking his head. He slid into the seat behind his desk, gesturing to the chair in front of it.

"Not at all, actually!" He laughed again before pausing, pulling on his collar. "But- Well, that's not to say that your efforts aren't appreciated, of course!" A light blush appeared on the white screen of his face before he straightened out his suit jacket, sitting up taller.

"What I meant was... That's not why I called you in here today. You see..." Tenna's grin grew impossibly wider as he reached under his desk, before re-emerging with a large white box, "I wanted to thank you!"

You blinked, mind going blank. Thank you? Was that really the reason he'd set up a private meeting? "Oh- Really?"

He nodded, much too eagerly, before pursing his lips and ducking back under his desk.

"And that's not all!" He chimed, mimicking the tone of someone off the shopping channel. He came back up, holding a nicely wrapped gift before setting it down in front of you. "I figured it was the least I could do for my best employee."

You could feel your heart thrumming in your chest at his words. Sure, you'd had a workplace crush on your boss of all people since you started working there, but this... This was almost too much, even for you!

"S-sir, I-" You began shakily, quickly being cut off.

"You can just call me Tenna, really. We don't need all of those... stuffy formalities." He waved off any concern you had before opening the larger of the two boxes and pushing it towards you.

You nodded at his words before peering into the box, which held a nicely decorated cake.

'Thanks for all you do, it's true! You're the best :)'

If your face wasn't already flushed, it certainly was now. Your gaze snapped up to Tenna's screen in an instant. His smile, usually so wide and practiced, had softened as he looked at you.

"I wanted to do something nice, for all the work you put in to make things run smoothly around here."

You were speechless for a moment, a million thoughts racing through your head. His smile faltered at your silence, growing self conscious under your gaze.

"B-but if it's too much, then, uh..." He pulled the box away, shame creeping into his features. You snapped out of your daze, hands flying to the cake box.

"No! No, not at all, Tenna. I think it's really sweet."

You gave him an encouraging smile, hands resting over his. You could've sworn you saw his screen flash to static for a split second before he straightened back up, smile growing.

"Well, I'm glad! Can't get much sweeter than cake, right?" He laughed loudly to himself in a desperate attempt to cover up his nerves, slapping his hand down on his desk as he lost himself in his hysterics. The smaller, carefully wrapped box fell to the ground.

You let out a noise of surprise, rising out of your seat. "Oh, I'll get th-"

"I CAN GET IT!" Tenna cried out, swiftly ducking under his desk to grab the gift. Your brows quirked up in confusion as you approached him.

"Tenna, it's alright, I-"

"YEOWCH!"

You were once again cut off, only this time by the bang of Tenna's head against the underside of his desk. You heard him hiss out in pain before you rushed to his side.

"I'm fine, really, Y/N! Nothing could shake me up more than the digital switchover," he joked, rubbing the back of his head as you carefully pulled him up by his other arm.

You tutted, shaking your head. "I was trying to tell you I could grab it, Tenna. You're much too stubborn."

He sighed, shoulders dropping. "Right as always, of course." He seemed to shrink at your light scolding. You led him to the couch at the far end of the room, sitting him down tenderly. He sunk down onto the cushions, still rubbing at the back of his head as you sat down next to him.

Even when in one of his moods, he was still a sight to behold. You took him in as he sat beside you, scanning over his form. His antennas were out of place, likely due to the force of him hitting the desk.

"Oh, you knocked your antennas out of place. Let me just..."

Before Tenna could protest, you reached over to fidget with his antennas. A deep blush immediately spread across his face, slapping a hand over his mouth as a whine nearly slipped out.

You looked down at him, concern etched on your features. "I'm sorry if it hurts, I've almost got them back in place." You continued to fix his antennas back into place, completely oblivious to Tenna's internal conflict beneath you.

He could have blacked out at that very moment. Your hands gently sliding over his antennas, taking care of him in more ways than one... It was almost too much for him to bear. A groan slipped past his lips as you straightened out his left antenna.

"Shit, sweetheart..." he breathed out, mind hazy. The dim glow of his screen cast up on your features as you looked down at him, realization dawning on you.

Oh. Oh.

Your hands stilled. Tenna gazed up at you, practically panting at this point. You could feel the heat radiating from his screen, as if it were threatening to engulf you, too.

You had two options at this point. Stop what you were doing and profusely apologize to your boss for accidentally engaging him in such an inappropriate way, or...

Gazing down at Tenna, he shot you a lazy grin.

You swallowed hard, grip subconsciously tightening on his antennas before sliding into his lap.

Good thing you were off-air.

[invincibledc]

۶ৎ 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐗 𝐍𝐄𝐙𝐔𝐊𝐎!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 ۶ৎ

♡！reader is gender neutral, that’s why there is female and male tags so this can be suited for any gender. There is no description of male or female anatomy. Reader is some random child Oliver found in a park and became friends over rocks.

literally being a demon who can’t come out into the sun sucks. Especially when they don’t know what they are. They’ve thrown rocks at before by some teenagers. They’ve gotten use to the pain, but what’s shocking is that one night when they can roam around, some purple boy that looks like their age had pants the same teenagers that threw rocks at them.

Their eyes sparkled seeing this, not even thinking. The pink eyed demon with hair that has flame-orange color at the tips. Humming loudly, the three kids jolted shock to see another kid out here. Oliver relaxed first as waved at them, they just stared at the purple hand before doing an eye closed smile and highfive him.

Oliver giggles, and that’s how you became his friend.

Sure he promised Debbie he wouldn’t sneak out no more… but his friend is out there in the cold! Who can’t even be in the sun. When Oliver seen their skin burned in the sun when he met them in day time. He panicked hearing their pained yelp, pulling them from the sun and into the shadows.

Never again is he letting you in the sun. But hey, he can always get you cloaks and steel his brother’s hoodies! They showed him that they can change their size. Oliver wouldn’t mind picking them up around in just a cloak looking like a blob as he flys around the city to show them things.

mark found out about the demon child when his mother informed him that his little brother snuck out again. Sighing as he flew around, he only hoped his little brother wasn’t causing much trouble.

There, he finally sees his brother.. but with some random kid with dyed hair and … pink eyes? Flying down, he had crossed arms staring at Oliver who looked shocked to see his brother. Oliver steps infront of his new friend.

“Mark!” He exclaimed, trying to keep his friend out of his sight. “What are you doing here?” Mark narrowed his eyes, “I should be asking you that. Oliver, you can’t just keep sneaking out. You’re worrying mom and myself.” He then leans to see the child staring at him. “Who’s that?” His stern demeanor disappeared to see those pink eyes stare at him gently. Oliver stepped aside, letting them walk forward.

“What’s your name kid?” Mark says, looking into their eyes before turning towards Oliver. “They can’t talk.” Oliver says, holding the mute’s hand. “So mute. Got it.. do they have a family?” Oliver shakes his head. “No family, can’t talk, can’t go out in Sun. But they’re cool! Watch this!” Oliver turned to you as mark raised a brow at the “can’t go out in the sun” part.

The child’s body started to shrink, looking like a toddler as Oliver picked them up and showed them off to mark whose jaw was dropped. That’s something… you don’t see unless it’s rae herself. “I..” “Can we keep them?!” Oliver said with excitement, the child gave off an eye closed smile. Their natural adorable face beaming at mark who stayed quiet.

“They’re not a pet Oliver, we can’t just keep a child.” “Not that like! Y/n isn’t a pet, they’re my friend.” Oliver glares at mark who held his hands up. “Okay then, what did you mean.” He places a hand into the purple boy’s shoulder. “Can we adopt them into our family… they can’t stay out in the sun. It… it hurts them!” His eyes held concern. “It could kill them. So, I thought that maybe mom and you can let them stay with us.. maybe forever?”

Mark looked at his half brother, and at the child demon who had puppy eyes that was definitely learnt from Oliver. Sighing and covering his face with one hand, he nodded. “We can try. But do you even know what they are?” Mark questions staring at you. Oliver groaned annoyed, “Does that even matter! Let’s go tell mom about them!” Oliver started to fly off with excitement. Mark could only sigh and follow his brother.

Welp, welcome to the family.

When meeting Debbie, it went kinda crazy with how mark finally persuaded her to let them stay. But Debbie soon felt calm with how you helped around. But when meeting the GDA, Cecil stared at the child weirdly. Pink eyes and natural orange flames tips hair? Sounds like trouble cause no one knows what they are.

Eve didn’t know how to express her feelings about the child. But she couldn’t help but coo at how affectionate they are. Always running to her when meeting the GDA and Guardians. Hugging around her waist, Eve smiled softly. They’re just a child that can’t handle their own problems.

If a ReAnimen were to try and beat onto mark, who the child immediately started being affectionate as well to. They’re getting their head kicked off. Rocking everyone in the room as they covered mark’s body. Imagine being saved by some demon. Crazy.

Mark gives them the reward of headpats, like keeping Oliver in check, helping him with patrols since they can clearly take care of themself.

If something were to ever try to harm Oliver, like you could try to be in disguise with Oliver when he would sneak out to help others.

Oliver and them always going out at night to specifically hang out. He even lets them meet those cool skating kids. He holds their hands when teaching them how to skate. Seeing their eyes sparkle up makes him feel proud to show them human things like this.

But oh boy, if it ever came to the point of where this small child or at least the same height as Oliver, were to smell blood. Then mark can understand why Cecil was suspicious of them. Seeing their body grow to look adultish or mature, body broad, pupils vertical. Mark didn’t expect to hold down a crazy blood thirsty demon. He talked the child he knew was inside them down, making them cry with apologies as their body shrank.

Next time, if the mission could possibly get bloody. He’s not letting them around the mission no more..

Them and Oliver playing footies, oh lord. Either they both are harming each other, or they simply can’t feel it. Mark has to stop that as the table was shaking.

Oliver always holding a small y/n around. Y/n doesn’t care, only for the fact that they like the body heat. Always sleeping. Oliver hates how y/n sleeps a lot, but at least it’s better than eating humans all day.

When they conquered the sun, oh boy Oliver was ecstatic! Immediately bringing them outside and playing tag, green light red light, maybe even catch! Oh boy he’s writing this all down as he kicks his feet happily. Finally, he can play games out but the day with them instead of night.

Don’t let the other marks see them. They never had a demon adopted sibling before, and they’re a man eating demon that can finally come out of the sun? Oh boy, this is a treat.

Oliver and y/n just always watching mark like Ducks. Like they follow mark like baby ducks and it’s so adorable to see baby vigilante/heroes following a known hero such as mark aka invincible.

Either less, Cecil doesn’t know if he can trust some man eating child demon that’s somehow “passive”. He’s seen how them can just grow and want to maul someone. They’re dangerous.

[zevrra]

the night is young ✧.*

biker!geto who had a custom helmet made just for you, spent so much money on it, but wholeheartedly prefers you wearing his. loves seeing you in his helmet as you climb onto the front or the back of his bike.

biker!geto who hasn’t taken his eyes off of you once when you two go out together. he knows other men will look at you but he doesn’t care. you’re his.

biker!geto who kisses you whenever he feels like it, doesn’t matter if you’re in public or not. he’ll tilt your head back in the middle of a conversation and kiss you deeply, mumbling how he wants to leave against your lips.

biker!geto who’s covered in tattoos but wants to get one you specifically pick out so he can cherish it whenever he’s not near you.

biker!geto who can’t keep his hands off of you. loves touching you in every way shape and form. runs his hands against your thighs, your waist, and stomach. gropes you every chance he gets while he breathes your scent in. it’s the only thing that calms him down.

biker!geto who worships you and everything you do. loves you with everything he has and then some.

biker!geto who purposely gives you his shirt or jackets to wear solely so he can fuck you in them later. again, loves seeing you in his clothes. makes him feral knowing you’re his. makes him all to eager to take you right then and there.

biker!geto who knows you tease him when he can’t do anything about it right then and there. until later when he has you bent over his bike, begging for him to slow down.

biker!geto who doesn’t get jealous at all but loves it when you do. even if you know he’d never leave you. he just enjoys seeing that pouty little face of yours when a man or woman dares to flirt with him.

biker!geto who buys you fresh flowers every two weeks and brings you your favorite sweet treat.

biker!geto who absolutely adores everything about you. every detail is perfect in his eyes and he makes sure to show you how beautiful you truly are when he can.

[lunareclipse-writes]

Saw the virgin remmick fic and now I need a corruption version

Reader edging him and overstimulating him until he's sobbing and begging, he's completely and utterly ruined and yours

Title: “Mine to Ruin”

Virgin!Remmick x GN!Reader

Word Count: ~810

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Warnings: NSFW, edging, overstimulation, loss of virginity (Remmick) , begging, sobbing, emotional corruption, possessiveness, praise + degradation, aftercare implied.

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He was trembling beneath you—centuries-old and trembling. A vampire, yes. A killer, a survivor, a ghost of a man who’d lived far too long without warmth, without want.

But now he wanted. He ached.

And you were the one who gave him that hunger. The one who promised him pleasure and then denied it, again and again, until it was all he knew.

Remmick’s thighs were shaking, slick with sweat despite the unnatural cool of his skin. His lips were swollen from kissing, from whimpering your name, and from biting down to try and stay quiet.

He failed at that last part, gloriously.

“Please—please,” he choked out, hips twitching helplessly under your grip. His cock was flushed a furious red, leaking, twitching. His fangs were out. His eyes were glassy, red-rimmed, and brimming with tears.

You grinned down at him, a hand dragging up his chest, slowly circling his nipple until he gasped, arching up into your palm like he needed it to live.

“You’ve waited over a thousand years for this,” you whispered against his neck, tongue teasing the curve of his jaw. “You can wait a little longer, can't you?”

He shook his head. “No—no, I can’t, please, please, I need it—I need you—”

“You’ve had me all night, Remmick,” you cooed sweetly, kissing the corner of his wet eye. “You’re the one who hasn’t earned a thing yet.”

He sobbed. Literally sobbed—his whole chest hitching with the force of it. It made your stomach clench, molten heat crawling through your gut.

You had him. Really had him.

He was ruined. Yours.

You let your fingers slide down again, teasing his cock with just the tips. He whimpered, legs twitching, hips jerking up involuntarily—and then you pulled away again, letting him hump at the air with a broken little cry.

“Fuck!” he snarled, nails scratching at the sheets. “I—I can’t take it—I c-can’t—”

You grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at you. “You will.”

His lip quivered. His pupils were blown wide.

“You’ll take everything I give you and thank me for it,” you continued, voice low and firm. “Because you want to be ruined, don’t you? You want to be good for me. Filthy and broken and sweet. Just mine.”

His fangs gleamed when his mouth fell open, panting. He nodded quickly, eyes wild. “Yes. Yes—I want that. I want you—I want to be yours, please, I’m yours, I swear—”

“Prove it,” you whispered, lowering yourself again, your tongue dragging along the underside of his cock so slowly it made him scream.

He didn’t even notice his hips bucking off the bed—didn’t notice the tears spilling over. You held his thighs down, kissed the flushed tip of his cock like it was a holy thing, and smiled when he sobbed again.

“Gonna come,” he warned, voice hoarse and high and utterly broken. “I—I can’t hold it, I swear, I’m gonna—please—”

And once again, you stopped. Let go. Moved your mouth away and waited while his body crumpled with the grief of it, his hips stuttering in desperation.

He screamed into the sheets.

You laughed softly.

“Oh, baby,” you purred, stroking his hair gently. “You poor thing.”

“Don’t—don’t laugh,” he sobbed. “I—I need you, please, I’m begging you, I’ve never felt anything like this—”

“I know you haven’t,” you whispered, kissing his cheek tenderly. “That’s why it’s so fun.”

He looked up at you, wrecked. There were tears and sweat and blood from where he’d bitten his lip. His chest heaved with every shaky breath.

“I’d do anything,” he said, voice raw. “Anything. Just—please let me come. I don’t care what you do, I just—I need—”

You crawled over him again, straddling his hips, your weight pinning him. You leaned down, mouths almost touching.

“I want you sobbing when you come,” you whispered. “I want it to break you.”

He groaned—almost growled—and you knew he was so close to unraveling that the line between pain and pleasure had disappeared completely.

You wrapped a hand around him again and didn’t stop this time.

No teasing. No edging.

Just a firm, steady stroke, slick and tight and unrelenting.

His mouth fell open, a strangled moan spilling out.

You kissed him while he came—kissed him through his cries, through the shudders of his body, through the tears on his cheeks as he sobbed your name over and over like a prayer.

He came hard—hot and messy between your bodies, hips bucking, eyes fluttering shut, completely and utterly destroyed.

And he didn’t stop crying. Not for a long time.

You didn’t make him. You just cradled him, held him tight, whispered in his ear:

“There’s my pretty boy… ruined just right.”

---

Masterlist

[theobservatory]

｡⁠☆TTYL XOXO｡⁠.ﾟ⁠+⁠ 

｡⁠☆Tim Drake headcanons + SMAU

｡⁠☆Cw: no pronouns, no use of y/n, mention of stalking, civilian reader

˗ˏ★First of all, he's a shit typer. He's typing while barely looking at the screen most of the time, but muscle memory allows his typing to still be mostly coherent

˗ˏ★What he chooses to abbreviate or to actually spell out is in God's hands, he definitely isn't thinking about word choice

˗ˏ★Also a lot more blunt over text. Most of the time he's in the middle of something and lowk rushing to reply (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

˗ˏ★Sends memes and tiktoks all the time. It's his love language 🩷🩷

˗ˏ★Such a "this is us" "is this us" "this reminds me of us" type of guy lol. It can be two balls of trash rolling down the street and he'll be like "me n u on a walk<33"

˗ˏ★He loves when you send stuff like that back. It makes him feel all warm inside

˗ˏ★Only says I love you over text. He's working on it, but the only person he knows that casually says ily is Dink

˗ˏ★A huge workaholic, whether we're talking about WE or vigilante activities. His work/life balance is almost as bad as Bruce's

˗ˏ★Denies his weird and obsessive habits for plausible deniability lmao

˗ˏ★Sneaks into your house with dubious consent, but he (almost) always tells you when he's done it

˗ˏ★Always up late bc of his vigilante activities so finding lovey dovey texts sent to you between like 3-6am is pretty regular

˗ˏ★Will NOT acknowledge them in person tho. That's way too vulnerable for him, and the reason you only ever get those texts when his inhibitions are lowered

˗ˏ★Accidentally cropped the last one wrong but you get the gist so it's fine (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)

˗ˏ★I'm a Tim doesn't like coffee truther soooo....

˗ˏ★Constantly texting you during boring WE meetings. He doesn't even hide it either. The other rich guys there will be like "Mr.Drake-Wayne sir?? 😟☝🏾 Is everything okay you've been on your phone this whole time😕!" And he'll be like "yeah everything's fine thanks😐" without even looking up

˗ˏ★You don't know he does this fyi, you just assume he has a lot of free time since he's CEO

I did nawt think this was gonna be the first Batfam thing I posted, I have a bunch more in my drafts, but here we are lol. Come hop into my askbox, I don't bite /⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\

｡⁠☆Requests open

[meiyokbf]

headcannon | manon x transmasc!reader

author's note: so so sorry for the delay, been busy working on under your spell and kinda forgot about the transmasc series, but already working on lara’s next so stay tuned! <3

warnings: pre transition!reader at the beginning, transmasc!reader, obvi. it kinda goes for both non-binary readers and transmen, too. hrt therapy & top surgery mentioned. nsfw at the end, MDNI.

🏷️: katseye, manon x reader, manon bannerman x reader, katseye x reader, katseye smut, manon smut, transmasc reader.

just like dani, girlie KNEW.

she had a slight gut feeling about it ever since she met you.

but when you came out to her.

ugh.

she would literally look at you like you hung the stars the moment you came out to her. no hesitation, no questions that made your stomach twist; just this slow, blooming smile that made you feel safe.

“that makes so much sense, baby… thank you for telling me.”

when you told her your name, she said it out loud like she was tasting it: soft and reverent.

“god, it suits you so much. i want to say it every day.”

immediately updated your name in her phone and added three hearts and the little 💥 emoji for flair.

also changed your contact photo to a random blurry selfie of you looking masc and confused.

“you look like a hot raccoon caught in the act. it’s perfect.”

you told her you were nervous about telling the rest of katseye and she went into camp counselor mode

“okay so we’re gonna plan this. i’m talking full powerpoint, snacks, safe space rules. or we just facetime them and see what happens. your choice.”

you ended up telling them over group facetime tho.

“my baby has something to say and i will literally mute everyone if i have to”

they were all so confused at first like “what do you mean boyfriend?? who???”

and manon just held up a little paper sign she made that said “🏳️‍⚧️ IT’S A BOY 💙” with glitter glue.

one of them (probably sophia) started crying. megan asked if they could still call you “bestie king.” while lara asked what your new skincare routine was because you looked “so glowy and masc now???”

manon sat there with her hand on your back the whole time, just rubbing slow circles and kissing your shoulder.

“you’re doing amazing. i’m so, so proud of you.”

her voice always lit up when she gendered you right.

“he said he’d pick me up later,” she’d casually tell dani, then grin like she’d won the lottery.

your pronouns rolled off her tongue like they’d always belonged to you.

her love language became learning how to love you right.

she would listen, ask gently.

and always, always wait for you to lead the way.

she would sit on the floor with you and help fold laundry, separating the clothes that didn’t feel like “you” anymore

“we’ll make space for the new you,” she would say. “you’re allowed to change. i’ll love every version.”

pookie would call you schätz* because you were indeed her treasure.

when you started binding, she helped you do it safely, but also nearly broke your ribs trying to “adjust it better” the first time.

“okay inhale. exhale. now STAND STILL I’M STRAPPING THE GENDER ON.”

and honeyyy.

and you started HRT, she filmed your first shot on her phone with little sparkly edits and the caption “my bf is growing facial hair and i’m so emotional wtf 🥹

also made memes out of your voice cracks and sent them to you.

“child this u?? 😭😭😭”

also made a playlist for your hormone journey called “balls incoming 🏆”

she made you listen to it every shot day. and yes, it had both eye of the tiger by survivor and macho man by village people.

during your top surgery consult, she brought a binder (pun intended) full of notes and a gel pen.

“i made a list of questions. also a backup list of questions. also a list of surgeons ranked by tiktok reviews.”

and after surgery? she was a full-time nurse graduated from 20 seasons of grey’s anatomy.

“you’re not allowed to lift anything heavier than 100 grams. so sit the fuck down. i’ll get your snack.”

cries while spoon-feeding you pudding and calling you the love of her life.

she would still brag to everyone tho.

“my boyfriend is not a waiter but he always serves, bitch.”

and anytime you felt unsure, quiet, dysphoric, or distant, she’d gently crawl next to you, holding you like you were her most precious possession in the world.

“you don’t have to be brave right now, härzli**… just be here with me. i’ve got you.”

*schätz: treasure.

**härzli: litte heart.

hehe.

manon is def a power bottom or a sub bottom, no in between.

and girlie is a sucker for dirty talking. or just talking in general.

she’s whimpery, praise-drunk, kinda dramatic with it.

“fuck, baby, how are you this good?”

“i need you inside me so bad it’s criminal…”

she’s obsessed with your voice when you’re turned on, especially after HRT.

it got raspier, deeper, growlier; she literally moans the second you say her name like that.

when you started using a packer or strap, she did a whole slideshow presentation titled “dick options for my hot boyfriend,” complete with cursed memes, diagrams, and one slide that just said “👀 give me the dick pls.”

pookie is devoted to foreplay.

she’ll spend hours kissing your scars, whispering how proud she is of you, sliding her hands under your binder like she’s touching something sacred.

“you’re everything i ever wanted. don’t even try to argue.”

if you are using a packer, she loves being on top, facing you, whining into your mouth as she sinks down onto it.

“oh my god. oh my god. you’re inside me, holy shit… you’re so fucking deep, baby…”

* if you’re not using a packer? oh she’s feral for it. she loves riding you while grinding against your thigh or stomach, whining in your ear,

“feels so good, baby, just like that—fuck, keep going—don’t stop, don’t stop—”

she loves being held down & manhandled by you, but also loves pretending she’s not into it.

has a high pain tolerance and a praise addiction. she wants you to spank the shit out of her until her thighs shake

when you say shit like “good girl. so fucking good. look at you… made for this.” she’ll whimper. eyes wet. hips grinding. no thoughts left.

when you call her “pretty girl” or “good girl,” she melts. like blushes instantly, hides her face in your neck, full-body trembles.

but the second you say, “my good girl takes it so well,” she’s gone. babbling, brain off, wet mess.

she makes jokes in the middle of sex sometimes, but you’ve learned it’s actually when she’s overwhelmed.

“is this how bella felt when edward broke the headboard?”

she calls you “sir” when she’s close. unprompted. breathless. like it slips out of her when her mind starts to go fuzzy.

“please, sir… please let me cum- i need it, i’ll be so good…”

to her aftercare is just as important and sexy as the sex itself.

she needs it soft and slow. bath drawn, body washed, forehead kisses. she’ll be quiet and floaty, arms wrapped around you while you whisper how proud you are.

also takes selfies the next morning with your hickeys on her neck and posts on her insta’s close friends.

“my bf rearranged my guts last night and now i crave soup 😩💘”

[rusty-noodle]

⋆˚࿔ walking in 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

feat. Your favorite monster trio

hii! I got this totally… original idea…🤥 I'm guessing I'll be writing different versions (this cliché is one of my favorites 🤭 so I can't help myself). This one is very much kidish-sounding? if you read it, it'll make sense what I mean </3 it was super fun to write though, so I don't mind. It's very much giving new poster core too💔 I hope you like it!! <33 v.2 -> walking in v.2 Synopsis: various crew members walking in on you and the monster trio (separately) doing something couple-y luffy-513words sanji-386words zoro-354words CW: Fluff/SFW, implied secret established relationship, no use of y/n, gen-neutral reader, not proof read -noodle

Luffy

The slow rocking of the ship and the soothing feeling of your hands running through his hair had lulled Luffy asleep quite a while ago; his head rested against your chest, snuggled into your sternum. The arms grip he had on you loosened over time as he fell into a deeper sleep. his ragged hat placed on your head. he gave it to you because, first. He loves and trusts you, second. it was harder to kiss him with it on, snuggled up to you the way he is. It was a quiet, uneventful day. The birds that took perch on the ship were chirping peacefully... emphasis on the 'we're' as our red-haired navigator's voice overthrew them.

"Luffy!" she calls out. You could hear her footsteps coming closer to the room you and Luffy were currently sharing

Your eyes widen, panic setting in. What could you do? Hope she doesn't notice? Wake up, the cutest sleeping Luffy? Leave it up to fate?

The doors to Luffy's room quickly swung open

"Do ya' wanna stop at the" Nami spoke, her eyes adjusting to the scene that was displayed in front of her.

"... neering... island...?" she stuttered out slowly

You smiled awkwardly, "hi?-"

You're cut off by a half-fearful and half-exited shriek. Nami practically comes running to sit by you, making herself at home and Luffy, the sound, and the newfound pressure on the bed stirring him awake with a whiny groan

"What is it...?" he yawned, raising his head, his spikey, messy hair sticking up.

"SO!" Nami interrupts once again, "you? with our, clumsy, no good captain? I'm going to need all the details on how you lost enough sanity to where you're cuddling with him," she exclaimed, eyes sparking with joy and a wide smile that reached from ear to ear.

"I'm not that bad," Luffy huffed, wrapping his arms around you again. "They’re perfectly... normally sane," he grumbled, letting out a groggy yawn.

“ah!” A new voice shouted, “nami-swan!? I heard your terrifying scream!” Dress shoes could be heard charging toward your direction.

“not another one…” you mumble under your breath

“who hurt you mademoiselle?!” He pushed himself into the room. similar to the over eccentric girl sitting beside you, he screams like he’d seen a ghost

“Luffy…! GOT A PARTNER BEFORE ME!?” He spoke... much louder than he needed to.

You accepted your fate with a long, drawn-out sigh.

Sanji

The sound of Sanji chopping vegetables echoed through the room. You were behind him, arms wrapped around his waist, your head resting against his back as you two swayed together. You interrupted the tune he was quietly humming

"It smells soo~ good, love," You mumbled into his shirt. arms slightly tighting around him, reminding him how close the two of you were in the moment.

"Does it? well then, thank you" he chuckled under his breath. the sound of the knife skillfully hitting the cutting board stopped a second before he turned around leaning back against the counter to wrap his own arms around your waist. towering over you he leaned down to press a long kiss to your forehead. your small giggle sent a wave of joy through your favorite cook

"mmh" you hum looking into whichever bright eye was visible. he laughs again and leans down once more to deliver a kiss to you lips.

The Kitchen doors fly open, Ussop and Luffy barging in interrupting what peace you two had.

“oh!” You huff, backing away as sanji pulls his arms to his sides,

“I want dinner!” Luffy whines marching into the kitchen.

as Luffy walks away, a starstruck, open mouthed, wide eyed, unbelieving Ussop stood frozen at the door way is revealed.

“Luffy…? Did you just see what I saw?” He muttered out

“huh no?” He hums “what was it?” Luffy continues, looking towards Sanji and you,

“ah nothing!” You interject starting to walk away from him “dinner will be done soon… ill come back then” you smile walking past Ussop giving him a pat on the shoulder as you head out of the kitchen doors, ignoring the quiet pleading of Sanji not to leave him with ussop. Ussop is going to tell everyone, you sighed the doors shutting behind you…. You were right.

zoro

“hey, no! You're sweaty!” You grumble as Zoro tries to hug you

“I'm fine” he growls his hands snaking around your waist forcing you to hug him, muscles flexing in the process.

“oh ah! Please you’re all sticky!” You giggle trying to push him off, and its to no avail, giving up with a sigh you speak again

“you're so annoying…” you grumble under your breath

“mmhm… but you still love me don't you?” He murmured, hands coming down to the backs of your thighs, “can i?” He hums lowering himself next to your ear

“yeah yeah…” you respond letting out another giggle as you try to keep it in, rolling your eyes in the process.

he takes a deep breath before he picks you up, letting your legs wrap around his waist, looking up at you he flashes you a toothy smile

“oh youre too cute love” you hum and lean down to press a kiss to his forehead “do you know whats for dinner?” I ask, my hands coming up to the backs of his neck

“Sanji is making Coq au Vin” Robin said in awe , her arms crossed as she leans into the door frame of the crows nest

you freeze as zoro puts you down, clearing his throat and placing his hands in his pockets

you blankly stare eyes widened, letting out a deep breath “having fun up here huh?” She grins,

“ill meet you two in the dining room later…” and just like that she slipped out of the room, escaping like a shadow in the night…

Zoro laughs “were just glad it wasn’t sanji huh?” He looks down at you and smiles again,

little did you know, Robin is a gossiper… well Nami is… and robin tells Nami everything

have fun at dinner tonight!

—————————————————————————

AK! That was so fun to write, sorry about losing the special little colour coded speech, it mysteriously stopped working for me 💔 if i missed any CW tags, TELL MEE 😭 okay okay thanks for reading love you!!!

[thisonehere]

Bi-Han accidentally Holds your hand while a Mission

A/n: Alright, raise your hand if you remember that little poll I made and the winner was the "Bi-Han accidentally Holds your hand while a Mission" fic? This was a long time coming. But I will admit, there's more than just hand holding.

Tags: One-Shot, Pre Mk1, Mk1 AU, MK1, Drabble, Bi-Han x GN reader, SFW, action, fluff mixed with agnst

C/w: Mention of blood, slight angst, violence, grief, fakeout death

"Get down!" Bi-han yells as he grabs you by the collar and takes you down to take cover form the incoming fire balls.

You were on one mission to infiltrate a strange temple and procure some strange and ancient relic. And things were going....poorly.

The good news? You acquired it.

Bad news? It proved a struggle to escape.

The guardians have proven adamant about keeping their things secure. They possessed elemental abilities like your Grandmaster. You've never seen anything like it, you bypassed people who could shake the earth itself and others who could use the very winds to rip metal in half. But now your exit was blocked off by a group of pyromancers.

You followed Bi-Han as he darted behind a giant column big enough for both of you to hide.

"What are we going to do?" You say as you cling to the clung to the cool rock. You try your hardest not to scream, you don't want Bi-Han to see how scared you are. He chose you to come with him in this mission. Out of all other Lin Kuei, Sektor, Cyrax, Tomas, yet he chose you. One of the last things you want to do is disappoint Bi-Han by being scared.

Bi-han merely grunted and muttered something under his breath. You felt a fire ball slam against the column shaking it, almost form a squeal of terror out of you. A chilling light forms out of Bi-Han's hands. He threw an ice ball at them and then quickly ducked back behind the clouds as a fire ball flashed by nearly grazing his face.

His eyes darted from this way and that. Studying the architecture, looking for anyway out. The pryomancers shook the column with a barrage of fire balls, it wouldn't be longer before they shattered through it. He heard footsteps from approaching, more of these elementals were coming.

"When I say go, you run to that hallway!" He pointed to the nearby hallway from across the room, to get to it you'd have to. You nod frantically He waved his hands this way and that, the blue light about his hands grew bright and brighter as he charged up.

When it gets as bright as possible, he slams his hands on the ground, immediately a giant wall of ice springs out of the ground long enough to reach the hallway. It would give you enough cover from the pryomancers, but you don't know for how long "Go!" You waste no time. You sprint as fast as your legs can go. Already, the fire elementals began to assault the ice wall. It begins to crack and shudder under strikes of fire balls.

From across the other side of the room the roar of more elementals got Bi-Han's attention. Hydrokinetics, geokinetics, and more pryomancers race towards him. He throws another ice balls to the ground, creating another ice wall, blocking the front of him.

Your heart beats so hard you can feel it in your throat as you get close to the hallway. Suddenly, you hear the crashing of the ice wall that protected you from the pyromancers shattering.

You finally scream, covering your head as you avoid ice shards as they fly about the room. Bi-han isn't so lucky to avoid them. "GAH!" you look back as you hear Bi-Han scream.

He held the side of his neck, the side of his neck became quickly soaked in blood. "Don't worry about me, Go!" He growls.

You make it to the hallway, Bi-Han races to a staircase and runs up it, you are close behind him as the staircase leads you both to another floor. Yo your left are a row of doors and to your right is a balcony. You look over the balcony and see the whole army of Elementals spilling into the hallway. They see you; they race to the stairway to go after you.

Bi-han kicked in one of the doors, "In here!" He yells as he yanks you and forcefully guides you into the room. Yet another ice wall he creates to block the doorway.

It wouldn't hold long.

But it's a chance to catch your breath so you are thankful. It's a small room. There was a shrine filled with offerings and smalls stayed to signify some Elder God. No doubt this is a place for private worship or perhaps to perform rituals. Your eyes travelled around the room, noting everything, just in the hopes of distracting yourself for a second, maybe find a way to escape.

Your eyes eventually fell to your Grandmaster, his neck to be precise. Blood stained the side of his neck. The cut looked pretty nasty, almost fatal. Maybe adrenaline was the thing keeping him going. "Grandmaster-" you tried to take a step closer to get a closer look at the wound. "It's nothing." He is quick to dismiss you, but you could see it in his eyes. He was in pain.

Bi-han, meanwhile was at work breaking open a small window. Ice gathered around his hand as he grabs the sash that invaded the glass and rips it clean off.

He looks out the window to see the surroundings. The temple sits on a snowy mountaintop, below clouds gather, it obscures the earth beneath. On the side of the building, it is composed of very intricate designs. Most importantly there's a ledge, just big enough so that one person can climb on it... barely He looks at you and then back at the ledge. It's dangerous. Too Dangerous, you could get hurt. He didn't ask you to come in this mission with him because he wanted you to be in danger, he wanted to come with him because... nevermind.

"Y/n..." He calls to you. You stop pacing at the sound of his voice, you look at the now opened; you realize what he wants. You merely nod as you run to the window and push yourself through the small frame. What's the use of hesitating? If stay here, you die.

You step out of the window. The ledge is small, old. Is it gonna break if I step on it? You cautiously trail the ledge inch by inch. You made the mistake of looking over your shoulder. The dark clouds that hugged the mountain were dark, you saw nothing. Somehow that made you even more terrified. "Here." Bi-han held out the bag that held relic for you to take it. "Take this and get to the designated check point. The portal will open and take you back to the Artika."

You reach out and take the bag, you and Bi-Han's graise against each other for a second. You look into your Grandmaster's eyes and you see a mournful look in them. "Grandmaster, you'll be right behind me...right?"

Bi-han just stares at you, his frown grows and the mournful look in his eyes worsens. "Right?" You say again. Bi-han answers your question by going back inside the room and freezing the window, making sure you can't go back inside and no one can get out. "Bi-han!!" You gasp horrified. At that second you hear the wall of ice Bi-Han created to block the door explode with a shatter. "No!" You cry as you take a knife out of your belt and begin to chip away at the ice that coated the door, gripping the window frame for support.

You could hear a violent struggle happening inside the room, explosion as no doubt ice balls and fire balls were thrown, yelling, shouting, worse, Bi-Han crying out in pain. And then worse... silence.

You stopped chipping as you let the silence sink in. The blood in your veins run as you feel your stomach twist into knots. "no..." You say again, this time lower.

°°°

You felt the snow crunch beneath your feet as you ran down the white plains of the mountain, looking back over your shoulder in case you had any pursuers. The tracks you and Bi-Han had left when you first arrived here were now buried under a new blanket of snow. To say your heart was beating against your chest would be an understatement to what your whole body was going through. Your brain pulsed and thumped against your skull, your throat was dry, your feet ached. But you kept running. You had to make it to the portal, you had to get this relic back to the Artika...for Bi-Han.

You make your way deeper and deeper down the mountain, find your way into a Forrest of thin, snow covered trees. You take the moment to catch your breath, you fall against the foot of a frozen willow tree. Immediately you are reduced to a state of panting in heavy breaths. Your breathing was frantic, almost hysterical. "Bi-han..." You whimpering as you clutch the bag.

Your Grandmaster...this is horrible.

Despite the cold around you, you felt your eyes run hot. Your breathing is reduced to a mess of sharp inhales as you sight soon became blurry from tears, pain, and exhaustion. In the distance, you can make out the vague image of the portal, ready to open if it senses your presence.

You can go, you enter it and leave this hell and go back to the safety of the Artika...without Bi-Han, your Grandmaster. By the Elder Gods, you felt like such a failure. He asked you to come with him, and all you did was be a useless lump of dead weight. Had it not been for you, Bi-Han would've no doubt been successful and would already be back in the Artika.

This is all my fault, you think as your head falls into your knees. The tears are hot and fresh as you begin to try and think of what to do next. You'll have to report back to Sektor and Kuai Liang. You'll have to tell them the Grandmaster has fallen. That you failed him to keep the Grandmaster safe.

This is all my fault, you think, You think of going back, maybe try and kill them, at least of them, to avenge Bi-Han. But then again you'd fail. You clutched the bag tightly. By the Elders, you felt so lost. What do I do, you wonder as you lean back against the willow tree.

...

"What are you doing?!"

After moments of silence you, a stern and familiar voice immediately breaks you out of your grief.

Through your blurred vision, you saw you Grandmaster's face, worn and beaten with cuts. But that harsh frown still stayed in its place on his face. His eyes dart all around you, as if he had walked in on you doing some odd thing that caused him pause to process. "Grandmaster?" You gasp with a shaky breath. "Y-You're alive!"

"Of course I'm alive!" He hisses. "Did you truly think I was so incompetent?" You're too dumbfounded to speak. Bi-Han extends his hand out to you, offering to help. Something he didn't usually do, so you took his hand and got your feet.

"Uh, here." You say as quickly hand him the bag. Bi-Han grunts slightly as he takes, perhaps his way of saying thank you.

For a moment, Bi-Han looks at your face, he notices the tears on your face. At that second he realizes, you were crying...for him. Normally he would berate a Lin Kuai if he so ever sees any type of weakness such as crying. But he just stares at you, unsure how to even respond.

"We should get back to Artika, you'll need to get that checked." You say, eyeing the dried blood around his neck. Bi-Han silently nods his head in agreeance.

The walk to the portal is silent. Only the doct crunch of the snow beneath your feet filled your ears to combat the silence. Finally, you made it to the portal. It whirled alive, flashing yellow and red flames exploded as it opened.

"Grandmaster..." You finally find the courage to speak, Bi-Han slightly tilts his head towards you. "If you do not mind me asking, what is in the artifact?" Bi-Han looked down at the bag, clutching it tightly. "Something precious to our clan, something of my father's, that somehow fell into those elemental hands."

You nodded your head in understanding. By now the portal has completely opened, a circling abyss of darkness and fire now stood before you both. "Um, Grandmaster." You say again, this time more a tone a bit more shy.

"You can let go of my hand."

Bi-Han's eyes widen as he looks down and sees his hands still interlaced with yours. "I-" he started, he went silent as he tried to process this. His hands warm in you, he can't seem to think of a single thing to do. His eyes goes from you to your hands. Apparently when he helped you up, he hadn't let go of your hand all the way to here. How could he not notice?

Despite the tears you were shedding not too long ago, you found yourself fighting a higgle as you watched your own Grandmaster get frazzled.

He finally gets a thought in his head and rips his hand free from yours. "You will tell no one of this. Understood?" You straightened up, tried to act serious. But seeing the Grandmaster's face red hot with blush made it almost impossible to fight a smile.

"Here." He says as he shoves the bag into your arms. He keeps his face turned from you now, catching on to you noticing his red face. "I need you to keep this. I want you and only you to have this...until further notice." Bi-Han let's you see his face one more time before entering the portal. He gives a look, a strange look, like there was extra meaning behind his words

But before you say anything l, your Grandmaster quickly ducks into the portal.

...

Not much happened after coming home from the Mission. Bi-Han got himself treated, apparently the adrenaline was the main thing keeping him going. He immediately felt the pain when he got settled down. The healers said that he would be bed ridden for the next few weeks. In the meantime, his brother Kuai will act as the temporary Grandmaster.

You found your way up to your room in the sacred halls of the Lin Kuei Base and collapsed onto your bed. The frozen mountain tops were cold, but somehow the Artika was even colder. You wrapped yourself up the warm covers as you try to settle down. You yourself felt the physical strain of the mission took its toll on your. You felt tiredness rush throughout your entire body. For a few hours moments you just laid there as you tried to regain your strength.

You felt the weight of the bag in your hands. Weakly you pushed yourself up into a sitting position. You wondered what could possibly be in this bag, what could possibly be in it that would cause your Grandmaster to nearly die for. It's just an old, brown burlap sack. You felt something slightly heavy in it. You stared at the intently, as if you were expecting it to do something extraordinary.

After a few moments it did nothing, so you decide to open it. You felt a nervous chill rush through your body as you slowly pulled the bag open. A pang of fear and excitement courses through you as carefully open the bag and reach inside.

A red gem is what awaits you inside. Nothing that big or shiny, just a red gem, chipped away at until it was in the shape of a heart.

You try not to be as disappointed as look at it. This is it? This is what Bi-Han almost died for?

You look inside the bag again, and you found two notes inside. You pull them out, more careful than the gem. The paper the notes were on looked very old, like they were written decades ago. The first one looked the oldest. You read it carefully, it was a love leader. Something of my father's, Bi-Han's words ring through your head. In an instant, you realize this is a love letter from Bi-Han's father to his mother.

You read through the words over and over again. Bi-Han's father praises his mother's radiance. He tells her how much he loves her, how much he adores her. He notes every amazing thing about her, her raven black he, her shimmering eyes, her strength, everything. You yourself felt flattered with how love filled this letter was.

You look at the second letter, it looks less old. Like it was made 1 or 2 decades later.

My eldest Son, Bi-Han

One day you'll find someone, someone that you know you can't live without. That you adore without thought or reason.

Give this to them, let this speak for your heart.

For a few moments, look like an idiot as you fail to process what this letter meant.

I need you to keep this. I want you and only you to have this. Bi-Han words range through your ear. That's when it all clicked. You drop the gem and letter in your lap as you freeze, your eyes widen Bi-Han gave you a previous gem that belonged to his father, which was a gift of love to his mother. You felt the phantom warmth of his hand as this came to you.

Your grandmaster wants you to have it now. Bi-Han, the cold-hearted Sub Zero...likes you.

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Poly!plastics x powerlifter!reader

Reader always wears baggy clothes and under that a very muscular gal and for some reason the plastics never put two together, so one day reader has to join in dodgeball in gym and their hoodie is making it hard to move so they take it off revealing their arms sculpted by Zues himself.

Heracles or Something

|| poly!plastics x powerlifter!nonbinary!reader

|| Warnings; hints at later sex, plastics simping over reader, short drabble

|| Summary; when the plastics see reader in a t shirt for the first time, they lose their minds.

Requests open!

Started; November 9th

Finished; November 9th

~~~

It hasn't been too long since you started dating the plastics; so their reaction to your muscles makes absolute sense. Considering they've yet to see you without hoodies and sweats on. It was second period gym and Coach Carr decided that the class would play a game of dodgeball. Which was one of your favourites, you always went all out for this.

By sheer luck, you and your girlfriends all managed to be on the same team. Regina was absolutely demolishing everyone. She's terrifying to go up against in dodgeball. Gretchen was mostly either using you or Regina as a shield. While Karen kind of just stood there, making herself the easiest target in the world. You defended her though. Not wanting her to be one of the first ones out.

About half way through the game, you were finding it increasingly difficult to play with your hoodie on. It was getting beyond tiring having to move around in all that sweaty fabric. So you tossed it off, throwing it against the wall and doing a little arm stretch before returning to the game.

All three of your girlfriends got out in that same moment. Why? Their jaws were dropped and they couldn't pull their eyes away from you. Since when did their Y/N have insane muscles? Honestly, you looked as though Zeus himself made your body. It was Godly.

They weren't even mad they got out, just accepting their defeat. Because it gave them more time to admire you from the sidelines.

When the game was over, Regina was the first one to you in the locker room. Immediately pulling you into a kiss before you could sneak off to change in the bathroom. Because oh my God. You were even hotter now. Your lips moved against Regina's, she was being rough enough to get a moan out of you. Especially with how her nails had trailed along your arms. Practically tracing the tone outlines.

As the kiss broke, she cupped your cheeks and made you look into her eyes. With a desire you'd never seen in them before," my place. After school. I don't care if you have stuff to do." She stated, not leaving any room for an argument. You swallowed and nodded just as Gretchen and Karen joined the two of you.

"When were you gonna tell us?!" Gretchen exclaimed, leaving you pretty dumbfounded. Tell them what?

"Uh-?" You'd started to ask what she meant when Gretchen just rolled her eyes. Realizing you had no idea what she was talking about.

"Your muscles! You look like- I don't know, Heracles or something!" You burst out laughing at her explanation, cheeks flushed as you shook your head. Grinning from her flustered compliment.

"I try." You joked with a wink, meanwhile Karen. Had been completely distracted by your arms this entire time, eyes wide and mouth open.

When you noticed you gently closed her mouth for her, wiping away the drool with your thumb and kissing her cheek. "Hey, Earth to Karen."

She blinked when she heard her name," huh? Oh, yeah totally." You had no idea what she was responding to, even Gretchen just kinda shrugged at it.

Regina wrapped her arms around your waist, pulling you against her and resting her head to your shoulder. "God... you're so hot." She couldn't get over your muscles, making you blush again as you leaned into her touch.

Definitely looking forward to tonight.

[embossmoss]

Bringing a Kitten Home

Date everything headcanons with Mateo, Curt and Rod, Telly, and Dorian!

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽Mateo☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

***

You bringing a kitten home is a big deal for Mateo. Very big.

Yes, you helped find Davi and Stitch, but that doesn't exactly mean you're a pet person, dose it?

But what does say "pet person"? Bringing home a kitten from the pound!

Mateo himself is almost bouncing off the walls!

He's more than willing to watch and play with the kitten if you go out.

Mateo is also more than willing to give you many creative, poetic, or silly names for the cute little kitten!

If you've never had a cat before, don't worry! Mateo believes that living cats/ kittens aren't much different then the inanimals.

Hes not entirely wrong either, but it would still be best to ask someone who knows what they are doing with a living cat… not one of the objects, though.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽Curt and Rod☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

***

lets just say they are not keen on the idea of a kitten, especially a delinquent kitten.

they are constantly holding their curtains out of the reach of Said kitten. Not realising that the kitten thinks it's a game.

Curt is the most annoyed between the two. He's literally the curtains!

He's got little tears and holes on the bottom of his curtains!

It was bad enough having Sprite scratching up their curtains, but now it's a living cat scratching up their curtains! But now you can actually see these rips without the dateviators on!

They want to throw shade on the kitten, but they can't! It's a kitten! They can't throw shade on a kitten that can't defend itself!

But you better believe they're annoyed. They will let you know. Regularly.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽Telly☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

***

Telly isn't exactly thrilled about the idea of a kitten that could knock them onto the floor and brake his screen!

But after seeing the cute thing, they can't help but melt a little.

You know they're giving that kitten cute rhyming nicknames. They don't care if the names are a play on the kittens name or just a random cutesy name he can rhythm.

They can't help but let the kitten play with old cords they don't use anymore, but no chewing. They don't know if the cords could hurt the kitten.

Telly turns into a bit of a pet influencer on "placebook" now. They don't care. Everyone's feed is full of photos of them self and the kitten.

Telly loves that kitten. Sometimes, it feels like they love the kitten more than you.

They're now watching new shows or episodes with their new furry buddy, and their allowed to fall asleep if they want. Special kitten privileges only.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽Dorian☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

***

Dorian isn't pleased by the new comer, but he won't say anything about it.

Except to say "make sure they don't try scratching up my doorframes… or doors"

And you can only tell him not to worry, you got scratching posts and plenty of toys to distract from him… but apparently not Curt and Rod… Anyways

When you tell Dorian that the kitten is going to sleep in the downstairs bathroom, (telling the residents of said bathroom not to chastise the kitten) and to not take liberties on letting the kitten out during the night.

But if you've accidentally locked the poor thing in a room and you've been longer than fifteen minutes, he'll take the liberty of opening so the poor thing can get out.

If you’re a person who likes to keep all their doors closed, he doesn't want the kitten stuck in a closet, or the attic, or any other room.

He crumbles when the kitten paws at the door, meowing to be let out. So he gives in when it's not bedtime.

When it is bedtime, he so wants to let them out! But he won't!

🐉Requests are open!!🌿

[freakywrites]

Jjk men as subs

Part 2

did ya hear me?!?! SUBSSSSSSSS WOOOOOOOO (I’m going crazy)

Yk the drill here are the warnings!! ;P

Character- nanami/gojo/suguru

Warning- UNEDITED smut! (Duh) dom reader (double duh) miss use of a human being (nanami) you can read it as fem reader but it’s kinda nb

I feel a little silly and goofy

—————————————

Kento Nanami - human furniture /toys/gagged/orgasm denial/soft dom reader

“Hello how may I help you?” You said sweetly to the person at the other side of the phone. “Mr.Nanami?- Oh, he is a bit busy at the moment.” You replied, setting the vibrators too high. A few whimpers escaped Kentos' gagged drooling mouth. Crossing your legs and placing a hand on his blonde hair, rubbing it gently, trying to soothe his nerves. “Mhm! Yes, I’ll tell him no worries.” You cheered before glaring down at the man that was trying to speak muffled words. “Ok have a nice day~” You spoke smoothly before hanging up.

you bent down to Kento’s face, pulling him gently by the hair. “Hmm last thing I remember is that chairs don’t talk, right? Or am I mistaken?” You said with a gentle voice as the man looked at you with dizzy adoration his face flushed to his forehead, drool hanging from his chin, dripping down to his flush neck.

You leaned on the desk head laying on your hand. You played with the remotes, one connected to the vibrator in his ass the other connected to the toy wrapped around his dick both vibrating intensely. Leaning down, you see his dick twitch inside the toy. You could tell he was close his pre was basically dripping out.

Nanami's body shakes, face hot. He is close so close he feels if he could get his release right now, he would faint. Feverishly, he twitched and hummed at the vibration. oh, how cruel you are. With a click of your tongue, you lowered the intensity of the vibration.

“Can't have you break so soon.” You coo, leaving light touches over his shoulder blade to the shell of his ear, then cupping his face, his brows knitted together eyes rimmed with glossy tears, basically begging you for the flash of bliss he needs. Feeling his shaky breath on your skin as he nuzzled into your palm, you grin.

"Be quite and I'll let you cum."

Suguru Geto - bondage /pegging/degrading/ hard dom reader

Suguru was tied up by red rope his arms behind his back and his face smushed to the ground, body twitch with every thrust of your hips. "That's it- taking it like the fucking slut you are." You said with gritted teeth griping his waist leaving cresent marks on his pale skin.

his head rose up, pink swollen lips moaning your name as you fuck him out his mind. "Ha-hah plea-please-please-please." Suguru pleaded his voice cracking and shaking feeling his head go fuzzy as he felt the throbbing climax rising hot from his groin to his neck and ears.

Suguru’s eyes rolled back as you stroked his worked-out dick crashing your hips deliciously against his ass. "C-Close!" He winced out the climax build up almost painful on his dick. His heavy breathing turning into bitchy little whimpers as you pick up the pace slamming into that sweet spot that made him see stars. "Your close again? What a dirty fucking bod you got Suguru." you teased flipping him over on his back to see his fucked-out face. Spreading his legs wide and pulling him closer to you, watching how he bit his lip when your eyes met.

"So, fucking pretty.” You say breathlessly, pulling one of his legs over your shoulder and leaning down to kiss his lips followed with a playful bite. "Make a mess for me ya?” You asked going down to his chest licking and sucking on his nipple earning a high-pitched whimpering hum. His body arches up as you bit gentle at his sensitive bud his eyes wide and mouth agape as he feels that tight coil in his stomach snap as he spurts out a hot load on his stomach. His body shakes and legs twitch as his last drops of cum spill out of his length as you fuck him through his orgasm. “Fuck- you came so much.” You said slowing down your thrusts kissing his jaw and corner of his lip, his face messy and sleepy.

“that’s it for today, ya?” You said, looking at the red panting man below you.

Satoru Gojo - voyeurism(you)/ feet kissing and licking foot job/ leg riding/brat taming

“F-fuck-need to cum.” Satoru bit his shirt between his teeth as he strokes himself blue eyes looking into yours as you sit pretty on the chair in front of him. “Such a foul mouth you got their Satoru.. is this really exciting to you?” You teased. “N-no you won’t let me fuck you.” He spat as he fist fucks himself. “Oh really? But this thing shows me you’re having fun.” You joke moving your foot to rub at his hard-on.

A rush of pleasure made Satoru shiver and moan out. “h-hah shit!- S-stop that!” He said, grabbing at your thigh, digging his nails into your plush skin. you hummed, stretching out a hand. You pat his fluffy white hair. “How can I? You’re so pretty when you're a mess.” You replied, looking down at the man as his hips grind on your foot desperately. “You’re being mean…” he grumbled as he glared at you through white lashes.

With a relaxed expression, you moved your leg away from him as you spoke. “Now would a mean person let you do this, or would a mean person get up and leave you to yourself?” Crossing your legs, you stare down at him, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration “your choice, Satoru.” You smile.

Gojo gulped down his pride and pleaded. “O-ok! Stay, please - just... Let me finish - I’ll be good..” He begged, pawing at the chair, looking up at you with blush dusted over his cheeks. With an eye roll, you crumbled and sighed. “..Fine” Satoru’s face lit up, “but” you continued. “You can only cum with my leg- that’s it.” you smile warmly at the distraught looking man on his knees.

“Are you kidding me? No! I want all of you-plea-” You click your tongue. “Do you think you deserve to fuck me? Just this would be enough, yeah? Take it or leave it.” You spat. "Fine!” Gojo pouted, getting into a comfortable position. “Hold it, Satoru.” You said, pushing him away with your foot. “What? I’m doing what I’m told.” He sassed. You pulled up your leg. “Don’t you wanna saver it?” You joke earning an eyeroll from him, but he still obeyed.

With a shaky sigh, he began to kiss your foot, starting from the heel to the toes, lapping at them as he stroked himself. He kissed up to your knee gasping when he feels the soul of your foot rub against his tip making him let out whimpers his hips moving up to reach your foot pre cum rubbing onto you. Satoru moved to grip at your thigh as he fucks onto you, dick rubbing at your leg smearing it with his wetness “f-finally” he grunts hips thrust wildely, impatiently for release. You soothe him by rubbing his hair and caressing his face tilting it up to see his light blush on his cheeks dipping your thumb into his mouth to press on his tongue.

“So pretty when you’re worked up” you coo watch the man twitch and gasp as he stares at you his face presses to your knee, his thrusts speeding up with the praise. “ha-ha-ah” he was vocal, his jaw clenched as he breathed in soon to loosen to release choppy moans. You roughly pull him by his hair leaning your body towards his giving him a deep and sloppy kiss which he returned with frantic need drool pooling from the corner of his lips pulling away you huff “that’s it pretty boy” you talk him through the erratic thrusts of his. “Fuck! I’m gonna cum” he said through gritted teeth and you hum rocking your foot up and down his shaft that was wet with saliva and pre cum. “Like a bitch in heat.” You murmur against his lips “come on satoru show me your worth yeah?”

The white haired man’s breath hitched as the burning of climax bursts. His body pulsing as a hot wave crashes through him his nails digging and roaming your skin as spirts of white cum smear on your foot dripping to the floor. You could feel the pulsing against your skin, and you hum as you watch his head drop to your lap

“there there wasn’t that good?” You said softly, rubbing as satoru grumbles and presses his face on your thigh.

—————————————

A/N: Hello did ya miss me? No? ;-;

ANYWAAAYSSS NEW POST >0< (brain rot)

my first time writing foot play and human furniture play… as well as bondage ….and leg ridding…. And pegging…. And…. I'm going to church tmrw :( (deadass)

Gojo was so hard to write sense how the FUCK do I write foot stuff? Is it counted as feet stuff??? Idk

loved everything I wrote here except Gojo’s so happy homie dead (jk…. A little bit ..srry not srry-)

Was gonna do more dudes but I no no wanna :(

BUT LOVE YALL XOXO 💋

[defectivevillain]

wicked irony

pairing: Joe Goldberg/Reader

The reader is not a woman. Otherwise, no pronouns are used and race is ambiguous.

The end of class doesn’t seem to come fast enough. But finally, finally, everyone files out of the classroom. A few of the students send Joe lovelorn gazes, but he only has eyes for you. And you only have eyes for… the bookshelves around the room, apparently. It’s horribly ironic, Joe thinks, that you’re so blatantly restless and disinterested. You’re barely even looking at him. He thinks he loves it.

Joe is underwhelmed and unimpressed with the wide majority of his students, and this semester is no exception. At least, until he reads your first paper…

word count: 7.9k | ao3 version | joe playlist

Warnings: stalking, kidnapping, threats/blackmail. gory imagery.

Sigh. I have a weakness for charismatic and popular characters being frustrated and intrigued by the one person who isn’t affected by them. (cough cough, Felix fic, cough couch, Finnick fic, cough cough, this one…)

This fic is Joe/Reader centric. Again, the reader is either masculine/male or nonbinary. They’re written to not be a woman, basically. I especially love the idea of Joe breaking his pattern and falling for a super queer-presenting person and falling HARD. Come on, we knew this was coming.

I have almost zero canon knowledge. I’ve never actually watched this series—I’ve only seen Trixie and Katya watch it. Canon does not exist to me.

Joe has finally escaped his past. He’s creating something of a life for himself in London. Here, he isn’t Joe Goldberg, obsessive stalker and murderer; instead, he’s Jonathan Moore, literature professor at Darcy College. It’s a humble life, compared to what he had before. Surprisingly, he’s starting to enjoy it.

Except… his students aren’t the brightest. Joe isn’t sure what it is—if he’s distracting them, or if he just isn’t that great of a professor. (The mere thought amuses him. He knows he isn’t the problem.) Ultimately, though, no one seems very engaged in his class. And, even worse, hardly anyone has a grade above a C. 

Joe sighs as he reads through another mediocre essay, red ink littered across the margins. He shakes his head in annoyance and writes “D” in the top right corner, before adding it to the pile of graded papers. It’s abundantly clear to him that this semester’s batch of students are just like the last group: unmotivated and incompetent. 

Joe grabs the next paper, taking a deep breath and preparing himself for more mediocrity. He’s so accustomed to skipping over the introduction that he nearly neglects the thesis. Joe thinks he’s seeing things at first, but there it is: a well-constructed thesis. He reads through it once, twice. It’s not bad.

But Joe’s not going to get his hopes up, so he continues reading skeptically. It only takes him another paragraph to acknowledge that this student is a good writer. Perhaps even a great one. He only feels more satisfied with each additional page he reads. By the time he gets to the end of the paper, his heart is nearly racing. He’d been waiting for something to ruin it, but nothing happened. That essay was… quite good. 

Joe goes back to the first page and stares at the heading, scrutinizing your name at the top of the paper. It bounces around his mind even after he grades the paper and attempts to put it back in the pile; even as he takes it back in a few minutes to read it again. 

He soon finds himself looking forward to his next class. You haven’t left his mind, despite the fact that he has no idea what you look or sound like. Regardless, your name lingers in the back of his mind as he carries on with his day, crafting lesson plans and responding to the occasional email. And he finds himself distracted with contemplating just what you could look like. 

During his next class, he finds himself actually paying attention during attendance, if only to put a face to the name. You’re near the end of the list, and it takes every ounce of restraint he has not to speed through the list and just call out your name. 

Finally, he gets to you and says your name. You raise your hand. His chest lurches as he looks at you, everything clarifying and blurring around you. It’s such a nonchalant gesture. Hell, you didn’t even care to speak. “Welcome,” Joe says before he can stop himself. Your lips are pulled into an awkward, completely ingenuine smile and you nod. You seem confused at the thought of him welcoming you when he didn’t do the same for the other students; and annoyed at the brief attention the remark garners you. Joe updates the attendance, fighting off the urge to smile for some reason. 

He can’t fight off his curiosity for long. Twenty, then thirty minutes pass. And he reaches the brink of his patience. His lectures are meant to be interactive, but the majority of the class doesn’t care to participate. You aren’t necessarily vocal, but you’re clearly listening, at the very least. And Joe finds himself eager to hear what you have to say. He asks a question. No one answers. And he lets the room descend into a tense and uncomfortable silence. 

Joe looks at you, sharing something of an apologetic grimace. You stare for a moment, before slowly raising your hand. It’s hard for Joe not to acknowledge you within the millisecond, but he waits a few moments before calling on you to make things seem more authentic. 

Your answer is nearly perfect. You cite direct evidence from the text in your assertion, referencing multiple implicit themes present from the beginning of the book. Joe nods and thanks you for your answer, internally satiated with the knowledge that his preconceptions about you were correct. You’re brilliant. This class is probably too easy for you. 

He manages to exercise inordinate patience and stop himself from keeping you after class. Instead, he resigns himself to a night spent searching for anything and everything he can find on you. Joe’s actually looking forward to it. He wants to learn more about you. You’re clever; you’re undeniably attractive; and you’re entirely unaffected by his machinations. (Joe wants to eat you alive.)

He’s never felt this way about someone before. And his previous infatuations had all been women. That doesn’t seem to matter, though, does it? The feeling he gets in his chest when he looks at you is undeniable. And within the next few classes, he’s surrendering to the urge to get you in a room alone with him. 

“Stay behind for a moment?” Joe asks you near the end of one class. He allows his eyes to wander across the room as he asks, making sure his voice is just loud enough for the other students to hear.  

“...Sure,” you agree hesitantly. Joe knows he’s left you virtually no choice—asking you in front of the entire group. He did that on purpose, of course. You almost seem to recognize that, as your eyes flit about in recognition of the spotlight he placed you under. 

The end of class doesn’t seem to come fast enough. But finally, finally, everyone files out of the classroom. A few of the students send Joe lovelorn gazes, but he only has eyes for you. And you only have eyes for… the bookshelves around the room, apparently. 

It’s horribly ironic, Joe thinks, that you’re so blatantly restless and disinterested. You’re barely even looking at him. 

He thinks he loves it. 

Joe takes the proffered opportunity to study you, amused to find that you’re wearing sweatpants, a sweatshirt, and sneakers. A lot of his students dress up—probably to impress him, he thinks to himself wryly—but here you are, wearing what he can only imagine to be comfortable clothing that you practically threw on. Your hands fidget ever so slightly in your pockets as you explore the room around you, showing no indication of even noticing his presence. Joe studies you for a while longer before finally saying your name to catch your attention. 

It’s gratifying to see the way you almost force yourself to drag your gaze towards him. Your eyes meet his and, for a moment, Joe just stands there. Every word he means to say falls to dust on his tongue as he looks at you. You look so fucking bored, as if you’d quite literally rather be anywhere else. 

Finally, Joe thinks to himself. A challenge. 

He taps his fingers against his desk a few times in faux restlessness, seeing your eyes track the movement. “How’d you like the book?” Joe asks after a few moments. He doesn’t even really need to ask—he knows exactly what you thought of it, because you had written about it rather transparently. Somehow, he still wants to hear your answer anyways. 

“It was a book,” you respond vaguely. And Joe feels a genuine laugh crawl out of his throat. He’s just as startled by it as you are. 

“That’s a diplomatic way of putting it, yes,” he agrees. You were the only one to genuinely analyze the rhetorical style and consider how it impacted the story. You were the only one to find fault with the author’s pretentious language and shitty metaphors. “I must admit, I was impressed with your essay,” Joe continues. He reread it several times. He closed his eyes and imagined you sitting in the library—or perhaps even in your apartment—writing the paper, a concentrated expression on your face. He stood outside of your building and stared up at your drawn curtains, envisioning you typing away on your laptop. But you don’t need to know that.

Truthfully, when Joe began looking into you, he was annoyed to find that you have little to no social media presence. The few accounts you have are private. Joe had to do a bit of work—and, even then, he doesn’t have nearly as much information as he should. He’s forced to actually pay attention to your answers now. 

“Thanks," you say, seeming surprised as you blink at his compliment. He’s broken out of his thoughts.  

Joe doesn’t bother responding to your gratitude. “You’re doing well in this class,” he states instead. You’re the only person with an A. Joe has earned himself something of a reputation on campus for being the strict and exacting American professor with rigorous standards. Yet here you are, passing his class with ease. He would be annoyed, if he didn’t find you so intriguing. 

You don’t seem to know what to say to him. Joe continues speaking. “What program are you in?” he asks, despite already knowing the answer. Communication. Transfer student. Perfect GPA. Peer tutor at the writing center on campus.  

“Communication,” you respond, unknowing of his internal dialogue. Joe hums, pretending that information is new. 

“And how do you like the program?” he continues, secretly a bit entertained by your short answers. 

“It’s good," you respond. And wow, you’re giving him absolutely nothing to work with. It’s almost amusing. Joe feels his lips quirking at the edges. You’re not even trying to hide your disinterest. It’s fascinating. 

“Just good?” Joe prompts you. 

“I’m enjoying it,” you answer. There’s an awkward, tense silence for several long moments. Joe doesn’t make a move to break it, and neither do you. Then, just as he begins to think he’ll have to keep it going, you continue speaking. “Did you need me for something, Professor?” you eventually ask. 

Joe’s almost impressed that you had the courage to say that to his face. He was convinced he would have you trapped in conversation for a few minutes longer. It appears he’s underestimated you. 

“I was just curious about you,” Joe admits. You have no idea how dangerous his curiosity is. He is going to pick you apart. (And, if he’s feeling particularly merciful, he’ll even put you back together.) “Your writing is quite well-developed. I wanted to inquire about your career goals, see if there was anything I could do to assist you.” 

“Oh,” you say. You’re shifting your balance ever so slightly as if uneasy. Your backpack’s on your shoulders still, as if you’re going to just bolt out of the room at a moment’s notice. You really don’t want to be here, do you? “Well, thank you. I appreciate that. I don’t think I’m going to be pursuing literature, necessarily, but I’ll keep that in mind.”

Damn it, you are good. You buried your disinterest in faux gratitude. Joe was almost fooled for a moment. He’s suddenly scrambling to find something to say, something to force you to stay in this room, if only so he can pick you apart more—

But you’re already walking away, taking the opportunity you’ve created for yourself to escape. Joe stares after you for a moment, almost in disbelief. He hardly got anything out of you. You pretty much brushed him off and continued on about your day. You threw him off for a fraction of a second, long enough for you to get away. 

Did that really just happen?

Joe must be getting rusty.  

Joe is quickly learning that you’re a bit of an interesting case. You’re a lot different from the people he would usually go after. He’d almost venture to call you reclusive, because you’re not one to go to parties on campus or hang out with friends very often. You’re independent, which he would ordinarily appreciate—if it didn’t make tracking you down so damn difficult. You’re an unobtrusive presence on campus, clearly content with fading into the background. And your efforts work rather well for you, it seems. Of course, you can’t fool Joe. He would never be bored by you. Anything and everything you do just fascinates him. You’ve been fixed in his sights since that first paper you submitted to him weeks ago. 

This fascination is how he finds himself walking into one of the humble coffee shops on campus, pretending to look at the menu when he’s really tracking you down. He knows you tend to come here after your Intercultural Communication class on Wednesdays—and, after a few moments, he finally spots you. You’re nestled in one of the booths in the corner of the room, typing away on your laptop as usual. That’s one of the least surprising things he’s learned about you: you’re rather studious. He didn’t even need to glimpse into your apartment window to learn that, although he did anyway. 

Joe feels himself moving before he can stop himself. A few steps and he’s standing at the edge of your table, waiting for you to tear your attention away from your busywork. It takes a few seconds longer than he’d like, and he eventually abandons his patience. “Fancy seeing you here,” he remarks. 

You finally look up from your laptop screen, your eyes briefly finding him. “Professor Moore,” you say, momentarily startled by his presence. “What brings you here?”

“Just stopping by for some coffee before my office hours,” he answers with a slight smile. 

“…Well, I should leave you to it, then," you say smoothly. You predictably don’t take the bait—the reminder of his office hours—and instead practically dismiss him. His hand twitches at his side. “It was good to see you.” Liar. You look so uncomfortable. It only makes Joe more persistent. 

“Nonsense, I can spare some time for my best student.” Joe waves off your concern, before promptly leaning down and taking a seat in the booth across from you. You’re stoic for the most part, but a flicker of surprise and bewilderment passes across your face. Joe resists the urge to smile at the sight, instead focusing on you. 

“How’s your paper coming along?” he asks. You look suspicious and wary. Damn it, that’s right. Joe’s not supposed to know that you started that, is he? Finding the password to your school account had been far too easy, though. From there, he was free to browse your many assignments. And Joe devoured them all—especially the ones for his class. (God, that sounds pathetic, even for him.) “Don’t tell me you haven’t started it yet,” he adds jokingly, jabbing at your quick work pace. You’re at least a few weeks ahead of the course schedule. He can’t bring himself to be irritated by it. 

“I have some ideas, but nothing concrete yet," you answer.

“Good, good,” Joe says. “And what are you working on now, may I ask?”  

“Something for my Digital Activism class,” you respond. Joe looks at you expectantly and you continue. “We have to pick a digital activism movement and use content analysis to determine its efficacy.”

He sits for a bit, watching you continue to ignore him. He’ll occasionally take a sip of his drink but, otherwise, he’s unabashedly staring. Either you’re particularly good at ignoring him, or you just haven’t noticed. Joe gets the feeling it’s the former. 

“I have to get to class,” you announce at some point, closing your laptop and slipping it into your backpack. Joe almost laughs. You’re not getting out of this that easily. Absolutely not. Not again.

“Are you going to Winslow Hall?” Joe asks. He knows you are. Even if he hadn’t checked your schedule—which he did—he would be able to come to that conclusion. The college isn’t huge, so a lot of the liberal arts classes are in the same collection of buildings. “I can walk you there,” he offers politely.

“...Okay.” You’re clearly displeased with this turn of events, and confused by the gesture. Joe doesn’t give you any time to retract the remark, instead putting his jacket on and waiting for you to do the same. You’re sneaking suspicious glances at him every few moments. Usually his charismatic attitude isn’t met with such disregard and wariness. It’s a strange departure from the past. Then again, he’s sort of reinventing himself here in London. (Or, at least, that’s what he tells himself.) 

Joe heads out of the coffee shop with you, walking at your side and taking note of how you almost seem to shrink on yourself as passersby stare at the both of you. No doubt they’re wondering just who you are—Joe hasn’t earned a reputation for being particularly social. And he has quite a few admirers across campus. You’re almost wilting under everyone’s gazes, your hands fidgeting with the straps of your backpack restlessly. You probably haven’t realized, but your somewhat alternative appearance is only making you stand out more when next to him. It’s kind of funny. 

“Here we are,” Joe announces after your rather uneventful walk. “See you in class tomorrow,” he says, letting a charming smile slip onto his face. 

“Bye,” you say with an awkward, strained smile. He’s caught your genuine smile from afar—this tense pull to your lips is the furthest thing from it. It’s like you’re determined not to let your guard down in front of him. And within moments, you’ve already entered the classroom—as if you’re fleeing from him. 

In the coming weeks, as the semester starts to wind down, Joe decides to adjust his curriculum slightly to make the final assignment a partner project. It’ll boost some of the slackers’ grades—assuming they actually put in the work. But he knows that’s not the real reason why he’s giving the class this work. The real reason is sitting in the back of the class: you. Inexplicably, Joe wants to observe you speaking to someone else. He wants to see how you act when you’re forced to speak to someone else, to a peer. How will it differ from how you speak to him? Are you naturally wary, or is he special? He’s smirking at the thought. 

This partner project is how Joe currently finds himself in between the bookshelves of the campus library, subtly peeking through the gaps in the books to look at you and your partner. He’s hanging on to your every word, regardless of how mundane or unassuming it may be. There’s something positively captivating about you. (And this feels like it should be a blow to his pride, somehow. Joe has watched people before, many times. He’s never sunk to such depths: watching you do virtually nothing as you complete your schoolwork.) 

Then again, you’re not a particularly scandalous or public person. This is the best he can do. You like to keep to yourself, after all—spending hours in your apartment with your eyes glued to your laptop, or your phone, or a book. Joe shakes his head in annoyance, forgetting himself for a moment.

“What do you think of Professor Moore?” your classmate asks curiously. Joe suddenly snaps back to attention, feeling himself lean forward and peek through the gaps in the bookshelves to study the look on your face. That was rather fortuitous. 

You’re frowning at the question. “I’m not sure,” you say after a moment. The fluorescent lights of the library hum in impatience. Joe breathes slowly. “He kind of gives off serial killer vibes.” 

Joe is sure there’s a huge chunk of context he’s missing, but he still has to duck below the shelves to hide himself as he laughs. Oh, you have no idea. His shoulders are shaking with mirth. It takes concerted effort for him to reel himself back in. 

“How?” your classmate asks, clearly thrown by your honesty. 

“I don’t know,” you say hesitantly. You’re acting a bit uncertain, but Joe gets the feeling you’re just pretending for your classmate’s benefit. After all, you’ve made little effort to hide your skepticism whenever he speaks to you individually. “He fits the demographic. White man, conventionally attractive. Kind of emotionless.” Conventionally attractive. That’s not even a compliment—it’s just the truth. But it somehow satisfies Joe anyways. 

“I guess," the woman responds, clearly unconvinced. 

“Why do you ask?” you question her. 

“Just wondering,” she shrugs. “He seems to talk to you a lot.” 

Joe can see your eyebrows furrow from his position behind the bookshelves. You don’t exactly look pleased at the thought. “I don’t think so,” you say to your classmate. You don’t have anything else to say on the matter, supposedly, because you turn your attention back to the project.

This is fun, Joe thinks. Surprisingly so. 

Unfortunately, you soon part ways with your classmate to return to your apartment. Joe follows you on the way back, annoyed at the knowledge that he’ll never get another chance like that again: one to hear your honest, unfiltered opinion on him. At least, not without asking you directly. Your words ring in his ears, even after he returns home that night and gets ready for bed. 

The next few weeks are par for the course. Despite his best efforts, he can’t quite seem to get you alone—save for your regular visits to the coffee shop. But that’s not enough for Joe, and he knows it. He needs so much more. He needs to sink his claws into you, rip your rib cage apart until he can finally see that damn heart of yours. And then maybe, just maybe, he’ll finally understand you. 

He’s… not doing well with this whole “reinvention” thing. Ah well. 

It isn’t until one early afternoon that his resolve finally starts to weaken. Joe’s sitting in his office, scrolling through his inbox when he finds an email from you—buried between the bureaucratic nonsense sent from the university and automated notifications from the grading system. His heart jumps unpleasantly, until he sees the headline of the email: “Class Tomorrow.” That doesn’t bode well. You’re probably not going. 

Indeed, as he opens the message and skims through it, his eyes find the important parts: “sick” and “absence”; and then, “apologies for the inconvenience.” Despite it all, you’re formal and polite. He appreciates the fact that you notified him of your absence: so many of his students will ditch class without warning. It’s nothing more than a common courtesy, but somehow, it’s still rather rare. He has an attendance policy on his syllabus, but it is often ignored. Joe shakes his head and returns his attention to your email. Then he reads it again. And a third time. 

He scoffs at himself. What the hell is he doing, reading a simple email over and over again? Is that really the best he can do? Joe sighs and refocuses his thoughts on the remaining emails sitting in his inbox, fighting off thoughts of you. 

As it turns out, rereading your email is far from the best thing Joe can do. He can do much better, like stand outside of your apartment and look through your windows. His eyes explore the scene: the tissue box and unusually cluttered table near your couch, the somewhat exhausted look on your face, the uncharacteristic lethargy to your movements. You look kind of miserable. 

You must have a fever, because you’re only wearing a tank top and shorts. Joe doesn’t think he’s seen this much of your skin before—this fall hasn’t been a particularly warm one, so he’s used to seeing you in sweatpants, jeans, sweatshirts, sweaters… He is absolutely not used to this—was not prepared to feel this uncomfortable stirring in his gut, this horrible restlessness and urge to get moving, to do something to distract himself from whatever this is—

Joe rubs a hand over his face and takes a slow breath. Get a hold of yourself, he admonishes himself. He continues studying your apartment from his vantage point, finding that, even in the throes of your sickness, you’ve still kept it relatively clean. That’s admirable, if a bit foolish. You head to your couch and throw a blanket over yourself. Joe watches as you drift off, checking his watch. It’s not very late yet—you usually go to bed later. You must be rather fatigued. 

Joe eventually leaves, if only because the night air is getting uncomfortably chilly. He spends the rest of the night grading and preparing for his next lesson. He wonders when you’ll get better, when you’ll return to his classroom. You’re not the type to miss lectures, Joe can already tell. So the fact that you’re absent is… a bit worrying. Or, it would be worrying, if he were the type to get stressed about things like that.  

Days pass, and Joe is forced to settle for your occasional emails—and the glimpses of you he catches from outside your apartment building. You’ve missed three classes at this point, interspersed across a week and a half. He isn’t sure whether to expect you today. You didn’t send an email like normal, but he doesn’t want to get his hopes up. 

The universe almost seems to be poking fun at him, because as he settles at his desk and muses, you walk through the door. “Back in the land of the living, hm?” Joe asks in lieu of a greeting. You sigh and place your backpack down, getting to your seat. He takes in your appearance, finding that you look worn out but still marginally better than before. He hopes you took those antibiotics your doctor prescribed. 

“For now,” you respond with a tired smile. You look exhausted. Joe doesn’t realize he utters that thought aloud until he hears you respond. “I know,” you say. Another student would be embarrassed at the thought, but you don’t seem to care. 

“Well, don’t go falling asleep on me,” Joe says teasingly, if only because social etiquette demands it of him. Secretly, he wouldn’t mind if you fell asleep. The thought of your wariness and skepticism slipping away, leaving you entirely vulnerable… 

“No promises,” you huff as you get your laptop out, entirely unaware of the dark turn his thoughts have taken. 

“Let me know if you need any assistance with catching up,” he offers. You both know you won’t need it. 

“I will, thanks,” you respond amicably. Your attention is focused on your screen for a moment, your eyes shifting ever so slightly as you read something. Then you blink and look back up at him. “I watched the lectures, so hopefully I’ll be okay.” 

“Ah, very good,” he smiles. “I’m sure you’ll be just fine, then.” 

Soon enough, the other students begin to file into the room. He allows them a few moments to get settled, before diving into today’s shorter lecture. Joe had allocated some time at the end of class for the partner projects, if only to make things easier on himself. Now, he won’t have to sneak around in the library to hear your conversation with your classmate. (Although, last time was certainly interesting in its own right.) 

Joe fights with the urge to stare at you the entire time, instead letting his eyes wander across the room as he subtly eavesdrops on your conversation. 

“Are you feeling better?” your classmate asks.

“Yeah, sort of," you answer her. “Just tired. I got the analysis done before I got sick, though.” Of course you did, Joe thinks. Of course you did. 

“Well, let me know if you need anything," she says, in a voice dripping with concern and something more… intimate. Joe feels an ugly feeling settle at the pit of his stomach. 

“Okay, thanks,” you say blankly. Jesus, you’re a brick fucking wall. She’s clearly flirting with you. Either you’re oblivious—which Joe somewhat doubts, given the perceptiveness you’ve exhibited in the past—or you’re just uninterested. It’s intriguing. Almost impressive, actually.  

As the two of you continue to work on your project, Joe catches bits and pieces of your conversation—interspersed between his unfortunate lapses in attention as he’s forced to answer a few students’ questions. But then the class is ending and you’re leaving. He can’t quite stop himself from staring after you as you go, nor can he convince himself to stop going to that coffee shop every time you go. 

He finds you there the next day, in the same booth you’re always in. Joe is almost ready to think you’re doing this on purpose. You’re not even making it difficult. The same time, the same place, the same day of the week… Come on. He thought you were a bit of a challenge. Joe slides into the booth across from you, settling into the seat that is starting to become his. 

“Hey, Professor,” you say, not even looking up from your screen.

“You can call me Jonathan, you know,” Joe says with a bit of friendly inflection. He very nearly slips and introduces himself as Joe. Something about you makes him want to be honest with you, if only to provoke you into some sort of reaction. 

“I’d rather not,” you respond seamlessly, a pinched expression on your face. Usually, that would be more than enough for a student to fall at his feet. He almost frowns, but manages to resist the urge. Perhaps he needs to try a different tactic. 

“Is your schedule settled for next semester?” he asks instead. 

“Yeah,” you confirm casually. 

“What classes are you taking?” he asks. It’s like pulling teeth. Are you doing this on purpose?

“Just communication classes,” you answer. “And a history class, I think. Some gen-ed, I don’t remember the name of it.”

“Exciting.” He raises his brows, willing you to look at him. You spare him a momentary glance, before returning your attention to your schoolwork. Is whatever you’re doing really more intriguing than he is? He almost wants to be offended. Almost.  

“Not really,” you dismiss the remark. 

He sits with you silently for a while, just watching you write. Joe has to admit, he’s stewing a little bit. You’re not even giving him the time of day. But his patience starts to pay off, as he catches you sending him confused glances. 

“Why are you doing this?” you ask, finally addressing him. You close your laptop screen and give him your full attention; and Joe gets a sudden rush of adrenaline. 

“Pardon?” he manages to ask, his tongue feeling slightly thick in his mouth.

“Why are you doing this?” you repeat yourself, gesturing to the two of you and the coffee shop around you. “Sitting here, asking me these questions.” 

“I want to get to know you," he answers immediately. That is the complete truth, for once. Unfortunately for you, that desire is far from harmless. 

“Why?”

“Is it really so hard to believe?” Joe counters instead, tactfully avoiding the question. He lets a charming smile rise on his lips. The gesture only seems to disconcert you. 

“Yes, it is,” you answer flatly. “What’s your endgame?”

Bold of you to assume he has an endgame. You’re absolutely right, of course. He absolutely has an endgame. He always does. “I’m just making conversation,” Joe says innocently. 

“Okay.” You’re clearly unconvinced. 

“It’s getting late,” Joe observes, casting a pointed glance through the dark windows at the front of the shop. “I’ll walk you home,” he offers. 

“No, it’s okay,” you deny him. You’re too smart for your own good. “I’ll be fine,” you say. And oh, you really, really would be. You would be so much better off walking home alone. But that’s just not in the cards for you tonight. 

“I insist,” Joe says firmly. You’re silent, clearly annoyed but sensing he isn’t going to relent. You know he’s got you trapped now. He shrugs his jacket on and watches you do the same, waiting for you to gather up your things before heading out of the coffee shop. 

The two of you are quiet for a few minutes. Joe has his hands shoved in his pockets and he’s walking ahead of you, anticipating what’s to come. He can’t say he’s been this excited before. But you’re different from the others. 

“You seem like you know where you’re going,” you say suspiciously.

Shit. That’s a harsh reality check. “I assume you live in one of the residence halls on campus." Joe thinks quickly. “Am I incorrect?”

“The dorms are back there,” you point out, glancing behind you momentarily before returning your attention to him. “And you’ve been walking ahead of me.”

“I take long strides; I’m tall," Joe justifies. 

“You’re not that tall.” You roll your eyes. “And I can walk quickly, so it’s not that.” You seem completely convinced, confident. You’re difficult to throw off, almost unshakeable even as you unknowingly approach a line you can’t come back from.  

“You don’t seem to trust me,” Joe eventually remarks, after sensing that your doubt is still very much present. 

“I don’t,” you agree. 

“Why not?”

“You don’t make sense to me," you admit. “You’re… I don’t know.” Joe waits patiently. He’s curious to hear how far you’ll go. “You’re elusive. You’re constantly acting, pretending. I’ve never seen you look authentic.”  

“A professor has to act a certain way, you understand,” Joe says somewhat dryly, secretly a bit annoyed by your stubbornness. You’re treading on thin ice and you don’t even realize it. His hand is twitching at his side. 

“Sure,” you acquiesce. “But you’re always acting. Even when you think you aren’t.” That’s… more accurate than you could ever know. 

“I see,” Joe says. 

“You act like… you want something from me,” you continue, studying him for a moment. “And I have no idea what it is.” 

“Maybe I just want your company,” Joe replies. 

“That’s not enough,” you respond far too quickly.

“Why not?” He asks. 

“Don’t pretend to be offended now,” you scoff, shoving your hands in your pockets. You look very restless and apprehensive, your eyes flitting around him as if waiting for him to make a move of some sort. 

You both walk in silence for a few more minutes. 

“I don’t know anything about you, you realize,” you continue. Joe’s so surprised to hear that remark that he just stares in disbelief. “You’re hard to track down. Practically nonexistent on university websites. It’s like you just… appeared.” 

The irony of that statement isn’t lost on Joe, but it will certainly be lost on you. Because you’re just as difficult to track down. Getting to this point—spending time with you, alone and unguarded—took him practically the entire semester.

“What do you want to know?” Joe asks, because he’s nothing if not charitable. His heart is roaring in his ears. Things don’t typically go like this. He’s not supposed to be the one being interrogated. 

You shrug helplessly. “I don’t know. Something, I guess. Something to prove you’re an actual human being, not just an empty husk.”

Damn. Damn. 

“Did I hit a nerve?” you ask. Joe blinks and there’s an entertained quirk to your lips. Another blink and it vanishes. “Whoops,” you say carelessly, clearly not very bothered by it. 

“You don’t seem very apologetic,” Joe notes calmly. 

“I get the feeling you’re not that great of a person,” you say. 

Jesus fucking Christ. Joe genuinely freezes for a moment, forgetting to walk alongside you. This entire interaction is giving him whiplash. Joe is so used to dominating the conversation—steering it at his will, until he gets exactly what he wants. But here you are, casually demolishing his plans and laying him out to dry in the same breath. Is he really so predictable, for you to take a simple glance at him and break through all of his defenses? Surely not. 

Joe shakes his head and catches up to you. “That’s not a very nice thing to say to someone,” he eventually says. That’s about what a normal person would say in this situation, right? Sure. 

“Yeah, you’re probably not used to hearing that, are you?” you huff. You’re smiling now—honest to God, smiling. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you smile so genuinely before. What the fuck?

“You realize I have control over your grades,” Joe says, the statement leaving his lips before he can think it through. It’s… not the best response he’s crafted, but he supposes it’ll do. 

You don’t seem the least bit affected by the implicit threat. “Are you really threatening me?” you ask, clearly amused. “Everyone else in your class is failing. Tanking my grades would only reflect poorly on you.”

You’re perceptive. Super perceptive. And yet you have no idea just how much danger you’re in right now. And yet you’ve never even noticed the persistent shadow following you across campus, lurking outside your apartment. “You’ve thought this through,” Joe remembers to say. 

“Not really,” you dismiss the thought. “Just saying. Besides, it’s near the end of the semester.”

“It is,” he agrees. Somehow that remark is what ushers in the finality for him. You’re right: finals are next week. His class doesn’t have a final. With the end of the semester, Joe won’t have an excuse to see you regularly anymore. He’ll track you down at that one coffee shop, lurk near your apartment, sure. But that’s not enough for him. 

“You almost sound disappointed,” you notice. Because of course you do.

“Competence is increasingly rare these days,” Joe says. The night air almost seems to warn him after that comment, rustling through his hair and sending a persistent chill through his bones. 

“You do have something of a reputation for being a stickler, don’t you?” you murmur. 

“No one here knows how to write,” he huffs. 

At that, the air between you falls silent once more—complete with a tangible, stifling tension. Your eyes flit about restlessly, never seeming to settle on any one thing for long. You’re steadily avoiding his gaze, as if meeting his eyes will confirm your suspicions. (It certainly will.) Joe allows it, if only because the sight amuses him. 

“This is me,” you then say, as the two of you stop in front of a nondescript building. It’s not you—you don’t live here. Your building is down a block or two. Joe just arches a brow. 

“You don’t want me to know where you live?” he asks casually, before he can stop himself. Joe’s getting closer and closer to crossing that same line he knows he can’t come back from. But damn it, what else is there to do? Moving to London, adopting this new identity… none of it quelled that visceral, manipulative desire in his chest. 

“What do you mean?” you ask slowly, breaking him out of his thoughts.

Joe has a choice to make. He can play dumb, let the conversation fall to silence and allow you to walk into that building you certainly don’t live in. He can turn his back, pretending not to see you sneak out of the building minutes later and head to where you actually live. He can give you that small mercy. 

…or… 

“You don’t live here,” Joe asserts. You’re frozen in front of him. He finds himself satisfied to know he provoked a reaction in you, no matter how small. He can’t quite give up the game now—he’s just getting started. “Come on, then,” he says, putting a hand on your shoulder and steering you away from the building. 

“Where are we going?” you question. 

“To your apartment,” Joe answers. 

You look unsettled, genuinely nervous. Joe feels a smirk rising on his lips before he can hide it. He grabs your forearm and leads you out of this building, heading down the sidewalk and towards your apartment building. “I’m going to die, aren’t I?” you say at some point. 

You’re going to wish you did. “Not exactly,” Joe settles for saying, when he senses you’re still waiting for an answer. 

You stare at him for a moment, before stiffening. You almost seem to find something in his eyes. “I can walk without your assistance,” you snap, trying to break out of his grip. Joe just tightens his hold on your arm. He’s never been this close to you before: close enough to see the streetlights reflecting in your eyes, the unnerved pull to your lips, the tension stretching across your shoulders. 

“Don’t be difficult,” Joe says patronizingly, if only to irritate you a bit more. You look furious at the remark and he smiles, continuing to lead you towards your building.  

“Should’ve trusted my gut,” you mutter quietly, talking to yourself. 

“You should’ve,” Joe agrees, ushering you into the lobby and guiding you to the elevators. With the elevator’s arrival, he leads you into the elevator before finally, regretfully, removing his grip. Upon pressing the button for your floor, he’s satisfied to find fear flickering across your face—as you evidently realize he knows exactly where your apartment is. Joe wants to burn that memory into his mind forever, watching your reaction over and over again to pick it apart. 

The elevator ride is quick and painless. At least, it is for him. Joe notices that you’re getting fidgety, though. And when the doors slide open to reveal your floor, you hover in the doorway. Joe just sighs, putting a hand on your back and leading you to your apartment. You only seem to be more disturbed as he does so. 

“Well?” he demands somewhat impatiently, after a few moments pass and you don’t say anything. You haven’t made a move to unlock your door yet. 

“I don’t have my keys,” you answer. He huffs at the attempted lie.

“Left pocket of your jacket,” Joe hums, looking at you expectantly. He watches as your hand explores your left pocket, emerging with your keys in your palm. “There you go,” he says with a nod. And if you looked afraid before, you look completely terrified now. 

“Go on, then,” he urges you. After a few seconds pass and you don’t move, he takes the keys from your hand and swiftly unlocks the door. “After you,” Joe says, gently pushing you into the room and following after you. 

He takes in the space greedily, connecting the objects to how they looked from outside. “Nice place,” Joe eventually says. You’re silent. 

Truthfully, things don’t usually go this quickly. Usually he gets into a relationship first, then manipulates the other person until he’s satisfied. But Joe can’t discredit you—he knows you’re not foolish enough to fall for that. You were suspicious from the outset, so he had to abandon his typical methods. It’s a nice change of pace, though: you know exactly how dangerous he is. 

And he doesn’t realize he’s uttered that first sentence aloud until he sees the look on your face. “You do this frequently, then?” you ask. “What, did you do this in America before you got here?” 

Joe keeps silent, knowing you’ll decipher the truth. Indeed, your face falls and you bury your head in your hands for a moment—clearly sensing the gravity of the situation. He gives you a moment to yourself, instead directing his attention to the space around him. It does remind him of you, somehow. And isn’t that a frightening thought? 

“What happens now, then?” you ask quietly. You don’t appear nearly as confident, now that you’re pinned under his gaze. “Will you kill me?”

“No,” Joe responds far too easily. He doesn’t ever want this game to end. No one has challenged him quite like you do. And he’s certain that, even when he seems to have you under his thumb now, you’ll find a way to make things interesting. 

“Why not?” you whisper. 

You’re too interesting. Joe keeps the thought to himself, his hand exploring the adjacent wall and running over the various posters and photographs you have hung up. He’s seen your apartment from the outside, but this is the first time he’s actually been inside it. 

“This apartment isn’t big enough for two people,” you state, as if that’s your most pressing concern. Joe chuckles. 

“Mine is,” he remarks, watching in delight as you process the implications of that statement. Several emotions pass across your face: dread, fear, anger. Then something like resolve gleams in your eyes and you move to get up. But Joe’s standing in front of you before you can even begin to head for the door. “Don’t bother. You won’t escape me.”

And you wouldn’t know, but you lost your chance at escape from the very moment you turned in that first essay. You surrendered yourself to his surveillance as soon as you walked into the classroom the next day. And your efforts at subverting his attention have only drawn him closer. 

Joe stands in front of you for a while, before guiding you to sit on your couch. He bustles about the room, grabbing an empty backpack and beginning to explore the room. He goes to your closet first, taking a few outfits and folding them up before placing them in your bag. 

“What are you doing?” you eventually ask, clearly unnerved by his silence. 

“Gathering your things,” he answers easily, grabbing a few things from your bathroom and stuffing them into the bag. “You won’t be back here for a while.” 

Joe knows he’s only unnerving you more, with the way he’s mechanically making his way through your apartment as if he knows it like the back of his hand. He hears a startled inhale of breath as he grabs your medications and fights off a smile. Yes, you have no idea just how much he knows about you. You’re only beginning to grasp it, because he wants to unsettle you. 

“Shall we?” Joe hums a few minutes later, slinging the bag he prepared for you over his shoulder. He doesn’t bother to wait for your response before latching his hand on your wrist and tugging you along after him. 

The elevator ride is silent. Joe realizes you’re finally looking at him. To think… all this time, all it took was a few drastic measures to thoroughly ensnare you. It doesn’t quite matter that you look disturbed—the fact of the matter is that you’re staring at him, trying to pick him apart the same way he’s been dissecting you. 

When the elevator reaches the first floor and the doors slide open, Joe’s hand finds your wrist again and he leads you after him. The cool night air meets you once more. There are only a few people out this late at night, but he’s brutally aware of how uncomfortable you must look. Coming to an idea, Joe’s hand slips down to your hand and he interlaces your fingers. He can nearly feel your hand trembling in his. Your discomfort can now be interpreted as uneasiness being spotted on the street, holding hands with him. No one will understand just how much danger you’re in as you walk alongside him, pliant in his grip as he leads you towards your new cage. 

Joe looks up to the polluted night sky, entirely void of stars, and smiles. 

Reader, chuckling: I'm in danger.

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[freak-accident419]

'i wish you were a girl'

Rhett Abbott x Reader

Summary: Rhett comes to you for help. You always had this weird relationship with him—a weird in-between of platonic and romantic. However, Rhett had a reputation to hold, meaning you could never go too far with him. The worst part, however, is that he truly likes you as much as you do.

Word Count: 1.1k

Content: (drabble-ish), non-woman!reader, male!reader, non-binary!reader, genderqueer!reader, inspired by 'as you are' film, influenced by 'brokeback mountain' film, are they lovers? worse, closeted Rhett Abbott, forbidden love, no happy ending (feel free to request a 2nd part), kissing, comfort, cuddling, events canon to the show, this is my pride month fic xx

-

Rhett Abbott was straight.

At least that's what the default assumption was in Wabang, Wyoming.

It was a western, conservative territory. Otherwise, there was an unspoken "don't ask, don't tell" etiquette among townsfolk. It wasn't too much of a burden to be queer, considering there was an out lesbian as the Deputy Sheriff. But that didn't mean Joy Hawk hadn't faced any hardships at all because of it.

Rhett Abbott was raised to be a "real man." He instantly got fixated on the concept of bull riding in his childhood and he was always teased by his elders whenever there was a girl his age right next to him.

There was nothing wrong with being queer. Rhett was taught to be respectful and kind, and that's what the Abbott family was all about. But if Rhett was queer? It was never a conversation. He was "too masculine, too much of a ladies' man" to be, so there were no concerns there.

Surely enough, that statement would soon be challenged once you came into the picture.

You were Rhett's close friend, knowing him for a few years now. It all started with you helping him shotgun a Miller Lite at a lively bonfire party. He fucked up with the first can and wound up spilling it all over the ground. As you witnessed his pathetic endeavor, you decided to assist him with a new can, puncturing the hole for him. Obviously, you both got drunk that evening, but Rhett seemed to be more hammered than you. The friends he came with were nowhere to be seen, so you stayed with him the entire time, driving him home once you finally sobered up. Ever since that night, you never left his side.

But that was years ago. Now, you had a much deeper connection, one that was more unconventional than anything. Don't take this the wrong way, it was beautiful. But it also wasn't comprehensible. It reached places farther than just friendship, yet it didn't quite meet the criteria for a real, romantic relationship either.

There was one thing for certain, however. Rhett Abbott simply couldn't be with you. It was well known—rather, well assumed—that he was straight.

So he didn't question this very moment; his head on your lap as you stroke his brown locks. Apparently, Rhett got into serious trouble. He wasn't specific about it as he blabbered to you in a panic, but he also knew you weren't the kind to pry. You would just do things for him without asking.

"Will you be my alibi for last night?" You could hear the urgency over the phone just through his anxious inflection.

He needed you. "Yeah. Sure."

And so, he came to your place in pursuit of solace. And you provided. After all, that's what friends were for.

Rhett lightly shifted his position on the couch, continuing to revel in your touch. His blue eyes bore into the wooden wall across from him, feeling the stress from his brother's actions slowly fading away.

He knew he shouldn't feel anything for you. He knew it wasn't right, to fall for his close friend. He knew it wasn't right to fall for someone like you.

"You okay?"

But he couldn't help it.

"What?" Rhett huffs in alert, slightly turning his head to face you.

Your hand that was in his hair lightly pushed him back in position to convey he had nothing to worry about. "You've been quiet," you mumble, gentle fingers continuing its ministrations, "something else bothering you?"

The man on your lap sighs deeply. "Everything's just so fucked up," he mutters bitterly, almost nuzzling your thigh with the slight stir of his nose.

Rhett was six feet tall, weighing around 150 pounds. He would frequently work on the ranch, having his fair share of chores. He would get into bar fights and he rode bulls for a living. But none of that mattered right now; he felt like the smallest person on earth as long as he was in your arms.

"Thank you for doing this," he mumbles, shutting his eyes briefly in exhaustion, "I know it's very... inconvenient."

"Yeah, well," you scoff softly, "you should know by now that I'm used to your troublemaking tendencies."

He let out a quiet chuckle in response, inhaling deeply in order to ground himself.

"Mm. Yeah," he sighs, before a bittersweet thought crossed his mind. "What would I do without you?"

Rhett sat up, untangling from your arms. He was beside you on the couch, searching your eyes with a hint of desperation. He needed to be close to you.

He felt like a magnet. It felt like you were falling—an excruciatingly slow fall towards him. You weren't sure what came over you, because your face moved closer and closer to his until your lips touched.

He kissed back.

You were kissing Rhett. And Rhett was kissing back.

Your hands were limp as your mouth moved with his, feeling his gentle, moist lips meshed with yours. He was lost in the sensation, exploring the foreign territory of intimacy with you. He kissed you deeply, his tongue already parting your mouth to taste you. Yet, while it felt like a millennium, the kiss concluded promptly.

Rhett sank back into his spot on the couch, and the two of you just stayed there motionless, processing what had just happened.

It's always been deemed so wrong, but it felt so right. He wasn't supposed to kiss a platonic friend. He wasn't supposed to kiss someone who wasn't a woman. He wasn't supposed to kiss you. No matter how much his body seemed to crave it.

Women were his forte, and that was the end of it. From childish crushes on girls in grade school, to hopeless yearning for Maria Olivares in high school, he's always liked women. And sure, his cowboy peers may have looked fairly attractive to him. And maybe that librarian always seemed to have a pretty smile on their face. But it didn't mean anything. There was no way it could have been sexual attraction. Rhett Abbott was straight. He had to be.

After all, everybody expects the bull-wrangling, church-going Abbott offspring to be a well-respected, good old fashioned role model of a man.

Rhett gulped, overwhelmed with a sense of guilt and regret as his next words would break the long streak of silence.

"I wish you were a girl," he murmured.

He wasn't looking at you, as his eyes were glued to the floor—glassy and scintillating.

You expected this of him. You knew it in your heart that you loved each other. But Rhett was stubborn and he had a reputation to hold. He never wanted to risk being a disappointment. Even if that meant hurting you.

"I'm sorry," he utters.

You always knew it was never going to work out.

"Me too."

You just didn't expect it to be this painful.

[distantdarlings]

ANY FEELINGS // t. nott

RATING: R / 4.6K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Gender-Neutral Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested - based on this* As Theo plucks up the courage to ask you out on a date, you soothe your repressed feelings for the boy by filling your nights with other men.

+ WARNINGS - Mentions of smut! (But no actual). Sexual descriptions, language, gender-neutral reader, conflict between Cormac and Theo, very brief description of a fight (non-graphic), kissing, kissing w/o consent, not proofread (lmk if I missed anything!)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Consume - Chase Atlantic

- - -

“Dude, you're gonna have to grow some balls at some point…”

“Shut the fuck up, man!” 

Theo laid a slap to the back of one of his best mate’s heads. Enzo was a great friend, but he tended to be a bit too judgmental when it came to you. 

Theo had had some sort of feelings for you since he first met you, but whether they were platonic or romantic or…something else, he wasn’t sure. 

Enzo seemed to be completely confident that Theo’s feelings for you—whatever they may be categorized as—could be chalked up to one thing only: love. 

Every time Theo heard Enzo pleading with him to just ask you out or grab your hand while he was walking next to you, he lost more patience. The boy sitting next to him was stupid, but sometimes he wondered if he should even be permitted to attend Hogwarts. 

“I don’t know, man,” Mattheo piped up. “Maybe Enzo’s right…you seem pretty into them every time we all hang out.” The dark boy diagonal from Theo shrugged his shoulders. 

“How would either of you know how I’m feeling?” Theo asked, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“I don’t know, maybe it’s because you fucking gawk at them everytime they’re around—I mean, you’re practically fucking drooling,” Enzo said, pursing his lips.

“Whatever, I am not.” 

“‘Not,’” Enzo mouthed to Mattheo, making air quotes with his fingers. 

Theo clenched his jaw and shoved the boy over, before getting to his feet.

The three of them had been sitting next to the Black Lake during dinner, hoping to get away from some of the noisy chatter in the Great Hall. 

“Look, just try it out,” Mattheo suggested, squinting against the sun. “Think about it tonight—”

“When you’re alone in bed and about to rub one out!” Enzo cut Mattheo off. Theo glared down at him in disgust. Just before he could react to what the boy had said, Mattheo smacked Enzo on the back of the head.

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Mattheo started back. “I meant to mull it over as you’re about to fall asleep tonight. That’s generally when I can get the most thinking done. It’s quiet and nonjudgmental.” 

He glared over at Enzo.

“Alright, then,” Theo sighed, pressing a thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. “I guess I will.”

Once the three of them had separated and gone their own ways, Theo decided to make a change to his evening plans.

He had originally planned on following Mattheo down to the Three Broomsticks for a mug of Butterbeer, but—upon the dark-haired boy’s suggestion of staying in—he decided to head back into the castle.

He’d have a bit of a shower then take an early night so he could think about what he wanted to do. What he wanted to do about you. 

It wasn’t just the constant pressure from Enzo to ask you out that had you circling around his thoughts. He didn’t need the badgering from his friends to think about you. 

Theo thought of you all the time anyway, with little being prioritized over you. The confusing nature of the feelings came from the fact that his thoughts of you were so often varied. 

One minute, he’d be thinking of your laugh—the way you tilted your head back, eyes clenched, with mouth wide, smile glistening. Next, he’d be imagining you naked above him, begging for him to give you more.

It’d been this way forever. He wanted you in more ways than one, but just one of those ways would ruin every other. 

If Theo admitted that he wanted to be the last face you saw every night and the first you saw every morning, and you rejected him, he’d never heal from it. He needed you too much in any way to let something get in the way of that. 

So he’d held back for years and years, until, apparently, he’d started to become a little too obvious. At least, enough so that Mattheo and Enzo had noticed. 

Now, with the support—and borderline bullying—from them, he was feeling confident. Like he could actually ask you to be his.

Still, he hesitated.

He made his way through the castle, counting the sconces on the wall and running through example admissions he could give you. If he were to tell you how he felt, he couldn’t fuck it up. 

You deserved the best of him, if you even deserved him at all. Theo wasn’t much compared to you, but everything he felt for you was genuine and that wasn’t something that was so easy to explain to Mattheo and Enzo, assholes as they were.

He stopped before the entrance to the Slytherin common room, mumbled the password, and made his way through, hardly straying from his imaginary conversations.

Distractedly, he headed upstairs and prepared himself a shower. 

Mattheo said he thought the best while laying in bed, but Theo wondered if the shower might be a better alternative for him. He worried that he might not ever get to sleep if he let all of his thoughts pool into one part of his day. 

So, he shed his clothes, pulled the water as hot as it would go and stepped beneath the boiling rain. 

Between the steam and the warmth, he could’ve fallen asleep, but the thoughts of telling you how he felt kept him wired enough to focus. 

There were a thousand possibilities swirling through his head, trying to guide him in the right direction. 

He weighed a couple options back and forth, trying to let imagined scenarios play out with each, but no matter what he said or did, it always ended with him embarrassing himself, you hating him, or him accidentally setting something on fire. Never mind that last option—there was a brief consideration of fireworks. 

He let the water run across his shoulders and slip down his chest. He applied a bit of hair oils to his hands, letting the personal concoction he’d whipped up settle in his palm. He’d always had pretty dry hair but it tended to get a bit oily during this time of year, leading him to switch over to a different product—or, rather, a combination of products.

He lathered the oils in his hair and closed his eyes.

The massage his fingers applied to his head was just relaxing enough to keep his mind occupied for a second. He didn’t stop thinking of you—he never did—but he was allowed a few moments’ peace. He accepted the nurturing sensation, attempting to ignore his imagination trying to replace his hands with yours.

Then, suddenly, he got it! He knew exactly how to tell you how he felt. 

He quickly rinsed all of the remaining bubbles from his hair and scrubbed the rest of his body, before shutting the water off and whispering a small spell. In an instant, the wetness coating his body evaporated into thin air, and he was bone-dry. 

He slipped his pajamas on, gathered his day clothes, and made his way back to the dorm. 

If he was going to do this, he wanted to make sure he did it properly. He had about a thousand ideas, a notebook, quill, and ten hours to kill. Needless to say, he wouldn’t be sleeping tonight.

- - -

You set yourself down at the end of the Slytherin table and poured a bit of coffee into your mug.  

With the night you had just before, you could use a bit of caffeine. Nothing you had expected to happen yesterday did, and everything you hadn’t expected to happen had. In ten fold. 

Between the three tests, the spilled pumpkin juice all over your bottoms, the near-fight between your best friend, Draco, and some Gryffindor, you had had enough by the end of all of it. 

You had wanted to sleep after all of the activity. But, instead, you had Cormac McLaggen. 

And you had gotten all of him. From his chestnut curls to his strong arms to his hips moving against yours. Thank Merlin he was a Quidditch player with immense stamina, else the two of you never would have lasted past the third or fourth rounds. 

A smirk appeared across your face at the thought of him and everything he had given you last night. Even with how insufferable he was as soon as he decided to talk, his mouth seemed proficient in other things. 

You sipped your coffee as students began to file in, lazily scuffing their feet across the floor, urgent to get a muffin. 

Despite your urge to busy your mind with schoolwork and your plans for the day, it kept falling back to that stupid Gryffindor boy.

His fingers weren’t the most skilled, nor was the rest of his body, but he followed instructions like he was born to do so. 

But even though he had done so well for you last night, and even though he’d seemed so eager to please, your mind couldn’t help but stray when you were with him last night. It couldn’t help but stray even now. Stray to a different boy.

Theodore Nott. The most gorgeous boy you’d ever laid your eyes on. Draco had introduced you to him during your first year; he’d said their fathers knew each other. Needless to say, you’d knew you wanted to be with him from the moment you saw him.

Even when you had no others, Theodore Nott was your goal. 

Seconds into thinking about Theo, and you were already thinking about his body, and replacing Cormac’s touch with his. Just like you had last night.

Perhaps it was unfair to Cormac, but you both knew you hadn’t hooked up for ‘love’—more like mutual attraction and convenience. 

You were thinking about the way Cormac had gasped above you and the way his mouth had felt on you, then suddenly it was Theo’s mouth where his had been, and Theo’s hands holding yours to the bed. 

It was enough to make you readjust in your seat just a bit. Even your fantasies of Theo made you red in the face. How pathetic. 

But, Merlin, if it wasn’t so nice to picture…his hands running down—

“Mind if I sit here?”

You glanced up suddenly, using every bit of will power in your body not to choke and spew coffee everywhere. 

If it wasn’t Theodore fucking Nott standing right before your eyes, you might have mistook him for an angel. Your eyes widened instinctually.

“E-er, yeah, Theo…take a seat,” you said with a forced smile. 

You watched him like a hawk as he seemed to effortlessly slide against the table, taking his seat before the hundreds of breakfast items lined along the oaken surface. 

If you didn’t know any better, you figured that he knew you were staring at him over your coffee mug, but he was ignoring it. He seemed to be considering his meal options, rather than focusing on you.

“So, how are you?” you asked, swallowing thickly. He glanced up as if he’d forgotten you were there. 

“Oh, good…yeah, pretty good. How are you?” 

You felt crazy. There was no way he’d just shown up like this while you’d been imagining him in the dirtiest scenarios—it couldn’t just be a coincidence. Maybe he was a Legilimens. Or one of his friends was. Shit, wasn’t Mattheo Riddle one? 

You smiled nervously. “Uh, yeah, I’m good.” 

“Good.” He selected a mug and poured some tea.

“Yeah…” You took a sip of your coffee.

“Listen, I wanted to talk to you about—” 

A kiss was pressed to the outer point of your jawline. Slightly rough, cracked lips with a hint of stubble across the chin. Warm breath. The scent of leather polish and something earthy. Shit.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” he said against your ear, sending chills down your arms. Perhaps you had been wrong. Perhaps Cormac had been interested in more of a relationship with you, past the purely physical aspect. 

You swore Theo’s eyes widened and his face fell. He seemed almost shocked or disappointed. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

“Hey,” you whispered back, a bit of a smile spreading across your lips at the familiar smell. Despite your lack of real feelings for him, Cormac did make you pretty happy, at least on a surface level. 

“I’m gonna grab something to eat then head back to bed if you want to join me…,” he let his voice trail off in a joking tone as he slipped away. He headed towards the Gryffindor table, never looking back. You watched him as he walked for a few moments then turned back to Theo.

“So, McLaggen, huh?” he asked. His jaw was clenched tightly and his eyes were surveying your face. He seemed to be searching for something.

“Oh, we—er, I mean, not really,” you chuckled.

“What does that mean?” He didn’t laugh in return.

“We kind of just—”

“Whatever…it’s none of my business.” He cut you off. He took one large sip from his mug, draining its contents before turning to go. You hopped to your feet.

“Theo, I—” you started to call after him, but he was already gone. Fuck, was he mad?

You sat back down and wrapped your fingers back around your cup. Something in you deflated like it had been poked with a needle—maybe it was your heart…or your stomach. You weren’t sure.

Cormac fluttered about the Gryffindor table, talking here and there, and grabbing bits of food. Your eyes followed him, watching his every movement. 

You could see the muscles rippling beneath his pajama tee shirt—a gray cotton number that fit him in all the right places; could see the honey curls that curled over his eyes; could see the way his eyes flicked over to you every so often. Damn, the way he looked at you was so good…

But Theo was something else entirely. If Cormac was fire, Theo was electricity. 

Theo replaced everything—Cormac’s eyes, lips, fingers. It was as if every memory was being replaced by him and there was nothing you could do to control it. 

Then, before you could blink, and realize what was happening, Theo was walking back through the door. And also making a bee line for Cormac. Shit. 

You stood slowly, waiting to see if you should intervene—or to see if you were just imagining the whole Theo-interested-in-you situation. 

A few moments passed where Theo said one thing, Cormac said another, Theo pointed at you, Cormac said another thing and then laughed. Whatever he said earned a few chuckles from his friends sitting around him. 

There was a beat. 

Then Theo punched Cormac as hard as he could. 

You gasped and rose to run toward the group that had now begun to swarm around Theo. It seemed that whoever had been laughing with Cormac obviously supported him enough to try and attack Theo, because once you’d gotten over there, they’d already laid a couple punches to Theo. 

Never mind he was up against three other guys, he was holding his own. Every time they successfully landed a punch, Theo would fire back with one of his own. And he’d fire back hard. 

“Stop!” you shouted, attempting to force yourself between them. Without looking, Theo spared an arm for a moment long enough that he could keep you pushed back behind him. 

“No, Theo! Cormac! That’s enough!” You struggled against Theo. 

Finally, you’d wrestled enough that you slipped free from Theo’s guard and slipped past them. You pushed him back as hard as you could, and turned to face the other boys as quickly as you could so they wouldn’t force themselves past you. 

“All of you stop it right now!” You shouted, panting heavily from the effort it took to push Theo away. “You come with me.”

You pulled Theo behind you by his hand and exited through the looming doors of the Great Hall, leaving Cormac and his goons in shock. In their defense, a lot had happened in about five minutes.

Once through the doors, you Disapparated quickly, never letting go of Theo’s hand. You landed in your dormitory. 

A quick survey of the room and a mumbled locking spell later, the two of you were alone and Theo was bleeding. 

You conjured a bit of gauze and ointment from somewhere in the hospital wing, promising you’d return it later.

Sitting Theo down gently on the edge of your bed, you began to gently apply a bit of the soaked gauze to the cut on his cheek and the blood seeping from his nose. He hissed ever so slightly at the stinging, but kept his eyes on you.

“Why did you hit him?” you asked, finally breaking the silence. His eyes moved away from you.

A few moments of silence passed. The minute you thought he might never say something, he spoke up.

“McLaggen’s not a good guy.”

You scoffed. “Really? That’s all you have to say? You hit Cormac because he’s ‘not a good guy?’ There’s billions of people who aren’t good people that I don’t go around decking every time I see them! Why did you really hit him, Theo?”

You stared him down, demanding an answer with every glance he cast your way. 

“Because of what he said about you.” 

You were taken aback. “W-what did he say?”

***

Theo walked out of the Great Hall, trying his best to swallow the rage that was building up in his throat. Of course you were with someone. You were absolutely perfect. It was false hope for him to have thought he’d ever had a chance with you. He threw his plans from his mind. 

As he stormed through the stone halls, flashes of the way McLaggen had come up right behind you and touched you like he owned you, pissed him off so badly he was shaking. 

The way his lips had touched your cheek, the way you’d smiled so softly, the way you’d looked at him afterwards. It was clear you pitied him, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be angry with you. It wasn’t your fault. If you wanted McLaggen, that was fine. He just needed…he just needed to make sure you were being treated right. 

On a whim, he turned back around before he could stop himself, and marched back into the Great Hall. 

If Theo couldn’t have you, he at least needed to ensure that whoever did have you was treating you right. You deserved it more than anyone did.

He spotted McLaggen leaned around a couple other guys, chattering and laughing. Honestly, just the sight of the jock pissed him off. 

“Hey! McLaggen!” The dirty blonde boy glanced up, eyebrows quickly shifting from shocked to on his guard. 

“Nott.” He nodded his head toward Theo. The boys gathered around him seemed to look up too, always prepared for some kind of conflict.

If they hadn’t known any better, Theo would have guessed they assumed this was a Quidditch issue. But it wasn’t. 

“Can I talk to you alone?” Theo asked.

“What for? If this is about the Quidditch pitch this weekend, McGonagall already said—” McLaggen started.

“It’s not about that,” Theo interrupted him. He was right, Cormac did think this was a Quidditch issue. Why else would Theo want to interact with him?

“Oh, wait…this is about them, isn’t it?” McLaggen laughed, nodding his head in your direction. Theo’s jaw twitched at the thought of him talking about you.

“I just wanted to say that they’re really important to me, and I want you to take care of them.”

“What—are you their dad?” McLaggen snorted.

“No, man. But they’re a very close friend of mine and I want to ensure that you’re going to be good to them.” Theo pointed in your direction without thinking about it. 

“Who are we talking about again?”

Theo’s jaw clenched at his response.

“Man, come on. I’m not asking for a lot. I care about my friend.”

“Are you sure they’re just your friend? I could’ve sworn they screamed your name last night.” 

The blood drained from Theo’s face as he heard McLaggen’s words. He was stunned for a moment.

“What did you say?” Theo muttered, barely able to form words.

“I said, ‘when I was fucking them last night, I think they said your name.’ It didn’t really matter anyways, because they were just a distraction for me. They’re not the prettiest thing, but good enough when they’re on their knees—”

Theo couldn’t handle it anymore. Without a second thought or a blink, Theo swung his fist at Cormac’s jaw as hard as he could. He didn’t know who this fucker thought he was, but he wasn’t going to talk about you like that. 

Somewhere distantly, he thought he heard you shout his name, but he’d started something he couldn’t just walk away from. 

***

“That’s what he said about you… I couldn’t just let him get away with that. Someone had to show him some consequences.” 

From the beginning, you had insisted that whatever was happening between you and Cormac was purely situational, but somehow his words still hurt. 

You were flashing between angry and sad and hurt and mortified—you didn’t know what to feel. Had you really screamed Theo’s name last night? The fact that you genuinely couldn’t say whether you did or not, made you scared. 

What did Theo think? Was he disgusted?

“Theo, I think the asshole was just trying to ramp you up,” you chuckled nervously. “I didn’t…s-scream your name last night.” The last words were little more than a whisper. You averted your eyes, finding the stone floor quite interesting all of a sudden. You couldn’t believe you were having to say that.

“Can I ask you one thing?” Theo breathed. He seemed much closer to you now, then he had been before. His breaths mingled with yours slowly…melodically…

Your eyes flickered between him and the floor, only viewing him through split seconds where his darkened skin flashed against the sunlight outside. Fuck, he was beautiful. 

How many times had you imagined tracing that olive skin? 

“Er, yes, of course,” you said distantly. “You can ask me anything, Theo.”

“Have…you ever…” 

His words came out thickened and slow, as if they were honey dripping from his lips. They poured wetly through his teeth, hot and searing. You could feel them cover your body, sliding delicately over your skin and covering your mind. The syllables that left his lips had your head spinning. You felt as if you might be sick.

“...had any feelings…”

His lips shuddered slightly between words, his eyes were looking directly into yours, the contact never wavering. You had plucked up the courage to stare up into those oceanic features, but just enough to get the gist of what he was asking. You couldn’t bear to look at him as you debated your answer.

“...for me…?”

Fuck.

Your eyelids fluttered closed. A deep sigh pushed from your nostrils as your lips pinched together. If you had known that sleeping with Cormac McClaggen would somehow set into motion the timeline that would out your long-lived crush on Theodore Nott, you’d never have said yes to the bastard. Besides, it wasn’t as if you weren’t thinking of Theo the whole time—so much so that you apparently had “screamed his name.” Merlin, this was the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to you. 

“Theo, uh… I don’t know if this is a good—” you started.

“Please,” he shuddered, his gentle hands pressing softly to either cheek. He tilted your head upwards to force more eye contact. The physical touch had you reeling. You had never been so close to him before, except for in your mind. “If you have, I need to know. I will not force anything from you, but I need to know.”

Your eyes flickered back and forth nervously as you summoned any strength that was left floating around in your fleeting esteem. You wanted so badly to tell him. Tell him about all those dinners you’d left early because your mind was so clouded with thoughts of him, about all of the classes you’d been called on to answer a question you weren’t even aware was being asked because you were too busy sketching him in your books, about all of the nights your fingers had slipped beneath your silk covers to pleasure yourself from a mere thought of him. 

A glimpse of him in your mind’s eye had been more than enough for years and years, but now—with your head cradled beneath his strong hands—you feared it’d never be enough again.

“Yes,” you choked out. The word came out small and harmless, as if you’d been holding your breath for too long before letting it out. 

And before you were able to wrench your face from his grasp, he’d leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. 

A muffled yelp of surprise slipped out between the two of you, but he swallowed the noise with a deep sigh. Despite never imagining this was how your confession of love would go, you couldn’t help but appreciate that it was happening now. 

Everything in you urged you to pull away and demand he leave for assuming you wanted to be kissed. But the child harboring a deep love for the boy they’d spotted on the train all those years ago pushed you to curl your fingers into the soft, brown strands atop his head.

A slight moan, almost in that of relief, was pressed into your mouth. His hands released your face and wrapped around your waist, clutching tightly to your waistband. He pulled you closer to him, his chest bumping yours. 

He wanted you, he wanted you, he wanted you, and he’d fucking gotten you. He reminded himself to punch Enzo and Mattheo in the gut when he got away from you. That was, if he ever pulled away from you. The feel of your lips on his was something out of a dream—one that his wildly imaginative mind could not have even mustered up. 

And finally, after years of debating, a shitty one-night stand, and thousands of shower pep-talks, Theo had finally worked up the nerve to taste your lips. And you had finally worked up the nerve to swallow your pride and confess your love to Theo, rather than projecting it through other vectors. 

And though the two of you would eventually pull apart, giggle quietly to one another, and announce your newfound infatuation for each other to all of your friends the following day, you still couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right. Everything had fallen into place except for one thing. 

Theo, as you would soon come to learn, always knew when something was wrong—oftentimes even when you didn’t realize it yourself. He would come to prove this many times over the following years of your relationship, but none better than when he had managed to learn a spell just for you. 

A spell that completely evaporated all of Cormac McClaggen’s clothes from his dormitory—and his body—whilst in the middle of Defense Against the Dark Arts. 

“That’ll show the fucker,” Theo had whispered into your ear amongst the loud bickering and laughing. 

- - -

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