#(from a distance while in town coincidentally)

[nezuscribe]

𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: six years ago, when they placed that sorting hat on your head, nobody expected for it to assign the muggleborn to the slytherin house, but it did. six years later, you find yourself as alone as the day you walked through those doors. little did you expect the prince of slytherin, the pureblood maniac himself, gojo satoru, to be the one to coincidentally fill your empty hours.

warnings: gojo is a pureblooded slytherin, slight angst, slight messy makeout

word count: 12.6k

note: part two is out now! comments and reblogs are always appreciated! thank you to @jadeisthirsting for beta reading as always!

part two

slytherin!gojo masterlist + jjk masterlist

When you were little, all the strange and peculiar things that happened to you, such as Ms. Bromsely, the awful maths teacher's desk going up in flames, or Patricia Gallaghers rings disintegrating after she teased your dress, were chalked up to chance or just something else.

Your mother was too busy covering extra shifts down at the pub to worry about it, so she rarely made an occurrence to the meetings your headmaster had scheduled, resulting in very awkward meetings with just you as you were explained how peculiar it was that you always seemed to be in the middle of all these weird occurrences.

So when that brown spotted owl almost crashed into your bedroom window at the ripe age of eleven, explaining that you were chosen to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, you suspected that one of your classmates was playing a cruel joke on you, but alas, it turned out to be very real. 

You were whisked away soon enough, stumbling your way in some sort of haze through Diagon Alley, and then in a blink of your eyes, you found yourself waving goodbye to your mother from that red train, on your way to a life you may have only imagined when you were younger, dreaming of a place far away from where you were.

And you loved it.

The feasts, the history-soken steps that you walked on every day to get to class, the little town that was within walking distance that you could go to every weekend. 

While most of the students here had been introduced to this early on in their lives, you hadn’t. Your mother was just as shocked and as bewildered as you were all those years ago, and given your special circumstances, sometimes you wondered if you were yet to see the thick of it, wondering if some things were hidden from you given your upbringing, given your blood.

But you blinked out of your stupor, being brought down from your daydream to the sound of quills scratching, the smell of faint smoke burning in the background, and the quiet sounds of different animals in their cages. All of these tall-tell signs of the transfiguration classroom. 

After years of spending time in this classroom, it slowly became one that you’d look forward to, and despite most Slytherins having an aptitude for potions or defense against the dark arts, transfiguration was where you shined the best.

The light that carded through the high arching windows illuminated the desks, and you were glad seeing how the back of the classrooms was usually the most poorly lit place. Unfortunately, they’re the only places you found yourself sitting throughout the years, which is just another reason why this specific classroom in itself brought you a slight sense of comfort. 

“...cross-species and inter-species transfiguration is one of the most difficult, if not the most difficult, sort of transfiguration to achieve. Even the most accomplished witches and wizards find themselves struggling with it,” you watched as Professor McGonagall walked around the front of the classroom, her graying hair pulled into a tight bun behind her head, her emerald robes swaying behind her like green waves, “The only way we were able to replicate this form of magic is through ancient runes.” 

Her eyes raked over all the students of the class, to make sure that everybody was understanding the weight of her words. As seventh years it was expected that you all would be ready to face the challenges of such a high-level class. But especially with Professor McGonagall, seeing just how difficult her classes usually were. 

“Of course, this was all covered during your fourth years, so I hope that some of you,” she gave a knowing look over her glasses, “Remember your lessons.” 

You momentarily caught her eyes.

You squirmed in your seat, knowing that her displeased look was directed to the Gryffindor’s sitting next to you. The boy to your left had his mouth open in a large yawn, promptly shutting it when McGonagall looked at him, and the girl to your right was busily finicking with a piece of parchment, trying to figure out how to enchant it so that it could turn into a swan to send to her boyfriend who was sitting across the class. 

You loved Hogwarts. Most of the time. 

The reason why you usually found yourself at the back of class, sitting with people you barely knew, and the reason why you were yet to experience most of the core memories other witches and wizards your age experienced was because you weren’t welcomed the way other would be by their assorted houses. 

Nearly six years ago, when Professor McGonagall placed that sorting hat on your head, you didn’t know what to expect. 

You had heard from some of the people that you sat near on the train that Gryffindor was best. Of course, the boy who said it came from a family of Gryffindors, but his friends seemed to agree with him. Ravenclaw was only for the smart people, which you hoped you might be sorted into and Huffelpuffs were known for their loyalty, which, judging by your mother's statement about how you dared to leave home, you didn’t have much of. 

But the Slytherin house seemed…forbidden. 

At least for you, anyways. 

“And what about that girl we saw?” One of the boys pointed outside the carriage window into the little hall outside, pointing to a much older girl wearing green robes, walking with some other friends who wore adorning colors, “What house is she in?” 

The other boy, who seemed to have the most knowledge out of anyone, scoffed, shaking his head. 

“Not for you, sorry,” he leaned in closer as if he were telling a secret. You tried to listen in, not making it obvious seeing how you weren’t any of their friends and how this was the only cart available with space, “That’s the Slytherin house.” 

“Why’s it not for me?” The other boy argued, his face pulled into a scowl.

“Well, Slytherins are many things. Ambitious, cunning,” the other boy said but shook his head disapprovingly, “But above all else, they’re all purebloods. Some are half-bloods, but even that’s rare. You’re coming from a muggle family. My father works at the ministry, and he says that some of the people in his department who were Slytherin still despise muggle-borns and muggles even long after they’ve left.”

So you had a basic understanding of what to expect. Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Gryffindor.

But when the hat cried out “Slytherin!” you almost jumped in your seat, looking behind you at the professor, your face of hesitancy surely mirroring hers. 

And you soon found out that the boy on the train (who was sorted into Gryffindor, big shock), was right. Word spread quickly that a muggle-born was sorted into Slytherin, the first in centuries, and that it surely must’ve been a mistake. 

But the sorting hat doesn’t go back on its word, and what was said was done. So six and a bit years later you found yourself as the pariah of your own house and were forced to fade into the background to avoid any further trouble. 

“...and this is the one project in which I’m having you work with partners, picked by me, of course. The research that is needed to go into this is too much to be done alone.” Professor McGonagall continued, and you perked up in your seat a little bit, your brows furrowing at her words. 

You felt a part of your heart race at the thought. Normally when professors assigned partners, it either left you with a fellow Slyhterin who hated your existence and forced you to do the project on your own, or somebody from another house who didn’t know you and forced you to do the project on your own. 

Your tongue felt heavy as she began reading off the paired names on her list, your hands becoming clammy. 

“Miss Finnegan and Mister Belton. Miss O’Shea and Miss Adan,” The girl next to you, who you quickly pieced together was Leila O’Shea groaned, her face depleted as she realized she wasn’t going to be paired with her boyfriend, and you watched as she sulkily went to the other girl's desk. 

You listened in anticipation as she went down the list, your heart beating loudly and comically in your chest the closer it seemed that she was getting to the end. 

“Mister Reeve and Mister Thompson,” she paused momentarily as she watched the two boys clap each other on the back, her lips threatening to quirk up into a smile, just waiting to read what foolishness they were going to write, “Miss Ward and Mister Green,” you felt like you might be getting off the hook, that maybe she took pity on you but it all came crashing down when she looked at you, a knowing look in her eyes far worse than pity as she read your name along with perhaps the singular person you would’ve paid all your money to not be paired with, 

“…will be with Mister Gojo,” you heard some of your housemates laugh out loud, some of them pushing at the boy and ruffling his hair as if he were the one that was going to face the brute of everything. He sat near the front, and you could see a flash of his white hair as he begrudgingly began to pack his things up, having no choice but to sit next to you seeing how the seats next to him were filled up. 

You watched as she rolled the piece of parchment back up as if she hadn’t just sentenced your public execution, and she raised a singular thin brow at the faces that were looking back at her, “Well? Get a move on. This essay is due in a month.”

You tried to take in a deep breath, your eyes trained on the blank piece of parchment in front of you as if you couldn’t hear his footsteps getting closer and closer to you, as if you didn’t just feel his robes brush up against your legs as he sunk into his seat.

This can’t possibly be happening.

Anybody would’ve been better than him. Even Marley Petterson and her constant poking and teasing about how your clothes were held together by scraps, and how you must’ve lived with mud people before you came to Hogwarts would’ve been better than him. Being forced to be a partner with the Prince of Slytherin was torture, and you wonder if after all these years Professor McGonagall was just now starting to show her distaste towards you. 

That day on the train was the first time you heard his name. 

“You see that boy? The one with the white hair?” The boy discreetly pointed out the window to one of the kids standing outside your cart. All the other boys hurriedly nodded, each craning their necks to get a better look at him, “He’s a Gojo. He comes from a line of Slytherins, each one worse than the one before. They’re purebloods, obviously. You wouldn’t find a speck of anything else in them. They’re rich too, filthy rich. They could buy this school if they wanted to.” All the other boys guffawed, but he seemed serious as if this stranger's family was nothing to be taken lightly. 

“When it comes to Slytherins, there are four families to be wary of. There’s the Gaunts and the Malfoys. There’s the noble house of Black, but lastly…them. House Gojo is one that every other wizarding family steers away from.”

After the day you were sorted you also quickly realized why most wizarding families stayed away from them. His word seemed to be law, and all the other Slytherins, especially those in his inner circle, held him to it. 

You peeked from the corner of your eye, watching as he unpacked all his supplies, his face contorted in obvious anger and disgust, and you thickly swallowed. You had done a good job in staying away from him these past couple of months, fortunate enough to only be called a mudblood and an offense to their ancient house a couple of times by him and his posse. 

His left-hand ring finger almost caught your eye in the sun, the gold ring with his house emblem shining brightly, a clear reminder of your difference with him, and you tried to hide your old school bag, riddled with holes and stains, something you just couldn’t replace. 

When he was done unpacked, he sat there for a couple of seconds, the silence between the two of you thick and heavy. You felt like you could choke on it, your fingers twitching to do something, to leave.

“...this is insulating…” he was talking to himself, shaking his head in disbelief as you sat awkwardly, not knowing what to do.

Gojo Satoru wasn’t one for many words. You had observed him from afar, long enough to see that aside from the occasional words he’d exchange with his closest friends or the few times he’d mutter traitor under his breath when the two of you locked eyes, he was a more brooding type of person. 

When he was angry, he hid it well. His cheeks might’ve flushed a bit, his nose flaring, but he never made an outburst. Which is why, at this moment, you could tell that he wasn’t in a particularly elated mood. 

“I…” you started, your mouth going dry at the way his eyes snapped to you, cold and cruel, “I can do the essay. I’ll get it done in time…if you want.” 

Most times your partners would just tell you to do the work, expecting (and knowing), you’d just say yes and go along with your day. But here, you couldn’t afford to let your guard down, rather having your pride be bitten at rather than your overall self. 

You heard him snort, his nose wrinkling in disgust as he rolled his eyes. 

“What? And have you do everything wrong?” His voice was hushed and clipped as if talking to you a second longer than needed would ruin him and everything he and his family stand for. 

He unrolled his piece of parchment, opening up his book as he kept his head down. 

“Well, I’m fairly decent with transfiguration,” you spoke up, trying for a smile that quickly fell when you felt his eyes burn into yours. For most of your time at Hogwarts, the only times you’ve ever really spoken to Gojo was when he was hurling insults at you, his words spurred on by his group of friends behind him. 

Gojo Satoru knew his worth. He knew that his family name would last through centuries and that the gold his family owned could buy out the entire ministry if they wanted to. Those around him treated him as such; as if his word was law. It also didn’t help that he was incredibly charming, growing into his looks over the years. 

You watched as he grew taller, his lanky figure now filled out with muscles that you could sometimes see through the baggy uniform. His eyes were always a topic of conversation, the infamous Gojo blue. His arctic white hair grew a little longer, sometimes falling in his face when he wasn’t aware. He was gorgeous, and you couldn’t even lie to yourself that he wasn’t.

Aside from his looks, he was also freakishly smart. If he hadn’t been sorted into Slytherin you were sure that Ravenclaw would’ve been fitting for him as well. He was always top of the class with O’s on every exam. 

Above all else, he knew his difference from everybody else. Even his closest (pureblooded) friends weren't even near his level. Even before he could walk, he’s been told of this. Not only that but he’s been told of the vileness of muggleborns. How their nature threatens the very fabric of wizarding society, and how muggles who have somehow been blessed with magical abilities are below humans, that they don’t deserve the rights every other witch and wizard has. 

Which means that you, the sole muggle-born in Slytherin, stood against everything Gojo Satoru believed. You were an abnormality, inhuman, somebody that he should resent for even existing.

“Well, we could always divide the work…?” You offered, your feet anxiously bouncing on the ground as you waited for his response. One of the blessings of sitting so far away from everyone else is that sure, they looked over to see how this was going, but at least they couldn’t listen in as you embarrassed yourself even further. 

His eyes darted over to your paper, blinking once, deep in thought. 

He sighed deeply through his nose, swallowing thickly as he gave you a singular, curt nod. 

“Hm,” he hummed, not even sparing you a glance as he began going to work, his pen scratching against the paper as his eyes began reading over the page, “But I’ll read what you write,” he said quickly, “I refuse to have my rank tank just because you mudbloods can’t do your work properly.” 

Mudblood  

After six years of it, you know you should’ve gotten used to it, but the stinging in your chest would argue otherwise. 

Your shoulders sank, eyes falling to the ground as your fingers fidgeted. You murmured something inaudible as you opened your book to the page McGonagall instructed you to. 

—

The days moved on and everything continued as it always did. 

The essay you had to write with Gojo was a slight hindrance in your usual schedule, but the two of you worked in silence in class and never interacted outside of it. Sometimes when his elbow would accidentally bump into yours as the two of you were busy writing he’d make a sort of noise in the back of his throat, his hand snatching back quickly as if you had somehow burnt him, but that was the most of your interactions. 

Sometimes when you were in the common rooms, late at night, you could hear him talking with his friends, talking about how heinous and ridiculous it was that McGonagall paired the two of you together, but you tried to ignore it.

That following week you found yourself back in the transfiguration classroom, working away quietly as you tried to understand the scriptures on the pages you had to read. You found yourself lucky that this subject was the one you might have some sort of talent in, seeing that this sort of ancient magic was just as difficult as McGonagall made it out to be. 

You heard some mumbling next to you, your eyes discreetly looking over at your partner, only to find his head in his hands as his brows furrowed in both annoyance and confusion. 

“...what does this…?” You heard him say to himself, watching as he flipped the page back and forth as if he was missing something. 

You looked back at your work, the talking around the room drowning out whatever it was that Gojo was saying to himself. 

Or at least you tried to drown out the noise, if not for the fact that your partner made some sort of sudden movement that managed to knock his ink bottle down, spilling ink all over the table. You moved your work to the side, watching as some of the ink soaked into your robes.

“Fuck,” he snapped, moving suddenly from his chair so that the ink would drip onto his clothes, “damn it,” he looked around almost helplessly, his hands clenching in anger after seeing all his hard work soaked up in black. 

“Wait,” you suddenly say, your arm outstretching over his body, watching as his head snaps over to you, “Stop moving for a second.”

He didn’t have much time to bite back at how dare you order him around because you had already begun to pull out your wand, flicking it on a quick movement as you murmured “tergeo,” watching as the ink slowly yet surely began clumping up in the middle of the table, going back with snake-like movements into its bottle. 

There was a beat of silence. 

Gojo sat still in his seat, his lips pursing as he finally let out a deep breath. He pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing at his eyes. 

“Thanks,” he said, but it seemed like he had to bite the word out, choking on it as if thanking you was taking too much of his mental willpower to do. 

You nodded briefly, still watching him as he settled back into his seat. 

“Uh,” you scratched at the back of your neck, knowing that you’d probably regret asking this in a matter of seconds, but somehow not able to stop yourself as you continue talking, “I don’t mean to be rude, or intrude, but is everything alright?”

You hold your breath as you watch Gojo sigh, his eyes shutting briefly. You braced yourself to be snapped at, to be victim to yet another reminder of how much you’ve tarnished the Slytherin name, but he just shakes his head. 

“No,” he seethes, but when he peeks over at you he licks his lips, gnawing on the inside of his cheek as he grabs his papers, moving it over to the middle of you two as he motions to it, “Everything is not alright. Something’s wrong with the book…and I have no idea what. I’ve read this page at least twenty times and it makes no bloody sense to me,” 

You try to hide your surprise. 

That’s probably the most he’s ever spoken to you without any mention of your muggle heritage. 

You move in a little closer to look at what he’s pointing to. You try not to heat up under his stare, squinting your eyes as you try to make sense of what it was he was writing, trying to hide your reactions when you realize that he was doing most of it wrong. 

The point of this essay was to learn about the origins of cross-species transfiguration, and eventually an animagus transformation and how it even came to be. 

You had to reference at least five other books and scrolls to piece together the correct herbs and spells needed to even begin the process. McGonagall honestly probably told everybody to reference the textbook because there was nothing in it. This essay was a testament to how many people went out of their way to learn about the true nature of transfiguration. 

What Gojo had written was something you were sure almost everybody else was writing as well, a mistake you almost made. His research was simple and black and white, and he was getting everything wrong because he was missing at least ten different very important points. 

“So,” you swallowed nervously, chewing on your already chapped lips, “You have the main ideas down,” which was a lie, “But there are just some things-” Before you could even finish your sentence the bell tower chimed once, twice, and then a final time, telling everybody that their class was over. 

All around you people began hurriedly packing up, surely excited for lunch, the chatter of conversations growing in volume, and you didn’t have to look at Professor McGonagall to know that she was irked by her student's sudden enthusiasm to leave. 

Gojo sat motionless, still looking over at you, waiting impatiently for you to finish. 

“I…” you scratched at your hands, “I can’t go over everything right now, but tomorrow I’ll bring in the other-” He raised his hand, packing up his bag as he cut you off. 

“No, not tomorrow, I’m already behind,” you watched as he shoved his papers into his leather bag, “Just explain it now.” 

You wanted to laugh, not knowing how long it might take to explain your twisted thinking process to him and you doubted he wanted to stay in this classroom with you for a minute longer. 

“Well, there’s quite a bit of things,” you searched for the right word, “Missing. I have to study for the potions exam right now, but I’m going to be in the library tonight anyway. I could show you then…?” 

You stood at your chair, your eyes looking up into his, wavering. 

What did you just do? Surely he’d laugh now in your face, roll his eyes at how absurd it was that you could even suggest such a thing, just as he usually does.

Instead, he looks at you, then at his paper, and then at yours, which is at least three pages long at this point. He’d never admit it out loud, but you were understanding this assignment better than him and nobody in his group seemed to understand it as well as you were. 

“Fine,” he runs a hand through his hair, the white sticking out between his fingers like snow perched on grass.

Your brows furrow, your lips pursing together in sudden confusion. 

“What, okay,” you fiddle with your fingers, tugging on them in that anxious way you always do, watching him tighten the straps on his bag, “But wait, what time…” You try to call out but he has already left, his robes swaying behind him as you stand alone at your seat.

You slowly begin to pack up, your thoughts running at what you have just done.

—

The potions exam went well enough, but you couldn’t stress out about it too much right now. 

After dinner (which you ate earlier than most, too anxious to be late), you made your way to the library, found a table near the back, somewhere that didn’t get a lot of foot traffic, and set up your workstation for the time being. 

Amongst many of the amenities Hogwarts had, the library was one of them you loved dearly. 

It wasn’t usually too busy, but it filled up quickly the night before some exams. But you didn’t mind it, you liked being surrounded by people. In the Slytherin common rooms, you usually had to wait until everybody had filtered out or had gone to bed before you could make your way down, not wanting to face their icy looks or the way they’d talk behind their hands when you were near, so you opted to be in the library above anything else. 

The muted sounds of pages turning, of people talking in hushed whispers, and the books that would sometimes rearrange themselves were calming. You liked the candles that were lit carefully around the large room, illuminating it deep into the night. 

You made sure that the work you had already written was set out, your quill resting straightly adjacent to it, your ink pot above it. Your pile of books sat neatly to the left. You wanted to seem as organized and as composed as you could, this might be your one chance to show the prince of Slytherin that you weren’t the slob he must imagine you as. 

The clock on the wall ticks, and you note that it’s nearly ten minutes till five. You chew on your lips, cracking your fingers as you keep your eyes trained on the door, waiting for the familiar mop of white hair to appear. 

After the first ten minutes, you begin fidgeting again, moving your papers centimeters above where they were as if they could appear any straighter. You weren’t wearing the usual house robes, and you hoped that your decision didn’t cause him to walk in, scan the area, and leave because he didn’t see what he expected to see. 

But you pushed those worries aside, just doing your best to watch the people who filed in and out of the large double doors. 

After the clock struck six, you began to stop looking at the doors, instead choosing to just get some work done while you were here, and opened up one of the books. Of course, he probably just lied just because he wanted to. There might be some of his friends standing outside, snickering as they watched you wait stupidly. 

You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, feeling like an idiot.

For the next half hour, you busied yourself with reading about the start of the animagus process, about the mandrake leaf, and the strenuous process of keeping it on your tongue for an entire month. 

Around you, you could hear the scrapping of chairs on the floor, and how most of the people were beginning to leave seeing that it was getting pretty late. The library closes promptly at eight, and although it was an hour till that happened, most people left till then. 

Your eyes flitted to the door, not seeing anybody, and deflated. 

Stupid, you repeated in your head. 

So you began shutting the books strewn out in front of you, packing them all up in your bag as you rubbed at your tired eyes. Madam Pince also made a deal if you left any ink splotches on the table, so you cast a quick tergeo charm to clean up any spots you might’ve missed. 

“You’re leaving?” 

You looked up from the table, eyes squinting to see his tall figure standing in front of you, his face flushed red, sweat dotting on his brow bone as a bit of his hair stuck to his face. Gojo was panting, his chest heaving up and down as if he had just run across the entire castle, and his brows were creasing in the middle, looking down at you as you seized your packing. 

You note his green quidditch robes and muddy boots. 

“I, um,” you looked at the nearly empty table in front of you, and you shook your head, giving him a small smile, “No, no, I just got here.” 

He looked at your bag, as if not believing you, but not caring too much as he hummed in the back of throat, rounding the table, and plopped himself down in the seat in front of you. 

Wordlessly, Gojo began taking out his supplies, and you figured you might as well, setting everything back up to where you initially had it.  You watched as he slyly looked around the two of you, his shoulder becoming less tense when he realized it truly was just the two of you left in the library. 

“Practice took up too much time,” he mindlessly explains, a clear explanation for why he looked so different from the put-together self he usually is. He pushed some of his hair out of his face, his breathing still a little erratic. 

You nod, swallowing thickly as you pretend to understand the ins and outs of quidditch. 

You were aware that amongst one of the many things Gojo could do, on his long lists of talents (which if there was a list would consist of his ability to speak five languages or his incredible ability to calm any creature down), was that he was an amazing seeker. 

While you weren’t very familiar with how quidditch worked, despite trying to best to follow along with others' conversations as you listened in, you could understand that his forte on a broomstick wasn’t talked about just because he was Gojo Satoru. 

He was fast on his broomstick, and thought it could be chalked up to the fact that every year he came to practice with the newest model, he could whize past anybody. He was nimble as well. With how large his hands were, larger than the other house seekers, he was able to secure a win for almost every single match ever since he got recruited. Last year he was named captain of the Slytherin quidditch team, so you were able to piece together that he got held up with the recent tryouts.

“That’s um,” you scratch at your arm awkwardly, “That’s alright…okay so I’ll try to be as quick as I can, but there’s a lot that McGonagall wants us to do,” you start slowly, letting his get situated as you push forward the first book that helped you out, “Oh, that textbook doesn’t help…right now,” you quickly said as you saw him pull out the assigned reading, saw how he looked at you for a second, his face scrunching up in an unreadable emotion. 

“This one is good, though,” you motion to the one in front of you. 

Gojo’s movements are slow as he takes it, eyes scanning over the title until he looks back at you. 

He doesn’t do much talking, you decide. 

“This book covers cross-species transfiguration, but it briefly mentions inter-species transfiguration. But the author referenced this one,” you pull out the other hefty textbook, sliding it over to him, “And this covers all things related to inter-species transfiguration and then goes into animagus transfigurations.” 

You pause, biting your cheek to stop you from rambling on. Transfiguration was something that you could talk about forever and ever, and you’d never really talked about out loud to anybody else up until now. 

“McGonagall said that the essay was on inter-species, she never mentioned animagus transfiguration,” Gojo said suddenly, pushing the two textbooks back, letting out a heavy sigh as if this was all a waste of his time.

You nod slowly, picking at some of the skin around your nails.

“R-right, and you’re right,” you quickly sputter, nodding, “But because cross-species and inter-species transfiguration are so close together, I doubt that this was what she wanted our month-long essay to be about. Which is why,” you pull out some old essays you had done earlier in the year, “I referenced back to these animagus essay’s we had done. I mean, she wouldn’t introduce us to the topic and then drop it for no particular reason, right? I suspect she wanted us to piece the two and two together.”

Gojo gently took the papers from your outstretched hand, his eyes raking over your words, and then back to the textbooks. He seemed to read it intently as if things were slowly starting to click for him. 

“Which is why the textbook she gave us isn’t really helpful, because it resembles more of an herbology textbook rather than transfiguration. So I think that this textbook, if anything, should be referenced at the end of the essay, seeing how it mentions the mandrake leaf and the properties of the chrysalis of a Death’s-head Hawk Moth. It’s all instructions on how to become an animagus without saying it.”

His eyes, a different shade of blue in the candlelight, watched your every moment. He listened carefully as you eventually did end up rambling, watching the way your face, on its own accord, twisted into a proud smile at your clever handiwork. 

You abruptly stop to catch a breath and glance up at him apologetically. 

“I’m sorry, I went too fast,” you shake your head, rubbing your temple in your hands, tired from staring at textbooks for as long as you’ve had. 

“No…it made sense,” Gojo murmurs suddenly, his lips pulled into a thin line as he quickly looks away from you, back down to his work which was now surely long after your in-depth analysis, twisting and turning that gold ring on his finger, the one he always wore, the symbol of his family crest as he looked through the books you had offered him. 

You stay silent, not knowing what to do, resting back in your seat, picking your nails. 

“Well, that’s all of it,” you rub your hands against your pants, your dry eyes blinking a couple of times, yearning for sleep.

“You could’ve said this during class,” he said, still reading, his attention preoccupied, as if this was a hindrance to him. 

You wet your lips, trying not to clench your hand in anger, frustration, and years of pent-up emotions, as you slowly nod, pulling the leather strap of your bag over your shoulders as you begin to stand up. 

“Right, sorry,” you apologize quietly, taken aback when he suddenly looks up at you, as if startled but you didn’t feel like spending any more in the presence of someone who despised you anyways, “goodnight,” you bid farewell, not noticing how he had opened his mouth to say something, scurrying out of the library as you make your way back to the common rooms before he could.

—

The next day at transfigurations, the two of you didn’t speak to one another at the beginning of class, like normal. 

You took out your books like normal, as did he, and began writing silently, like normal. Everything was going normally until he suddenly paused, his hand wavering above his essay as he set his quill down, turning his head over to you.

“Can I see what you’ve written?” 

You stop writing, eyes darting to the side as if you had misheard him.

Gojo points to the papers you’ve been working on as if you didn’t understand his first command. 

Wordlessly, you pass it over to him. 

He reads it over a couple of times, flipping through your endless pages, muttering some words to himself now and then. You would wager that compared to other people you had made far more progress in terms of how much you’d compiled, so you weren’t necessarily worried about the time restraint on this essay. 

You couldn’t say the same for him, however. 

You’ve never seen him look so intense, his brows furrowed and his lips pursed in clear concentration. He almost seemed frustrated, and it was a strange thing to see from somebody so usually put together. 

“Our work together is too divided, it looks like we haven’t been working with each other,” Gojo says as if that wasn’t purely what was the issue. 

You didn’t say anything, wanting to see what idea he’d propose.

“I need to finish the rest of these texts,” he jutted his chin to the textbooks you had given him last night, “We can work on the essay after classes are over, in the common room.” 

A part of you wanted to laugh at him as if he had just joked. 

But Gojo Satoru was not a joking sort of person. You rarely saw him smiling, even when with his friends, and it was even rarer for him to say something of any comedic value. Which could only mean that he was being serious and that he truly was proposing to work in the common rooms with…you.

A little snort escapes your lips, looking at him as if he were crazy. He looked at you as if you were the crazy one.

“I don’t go to the common rooms after class, it’s too busy,” you explained slowly to him, wondering if he was daft and even after all this time didn’t take the time to understand your situation. 

He blinked, eyes narrowing. 

“...and?” 

Your head tilted to the side, confused. 

“Well…there’s people there,” you explain even further. 

He scoffs, rolling his eyes as if you were stupid. 

“Ironically, that is the point of a common room.” Gojo looks back to his essay, picking up his quill as if he were done with this conversation, but you pushed.

“Right,” you say more curtly, nose flaring, “For you, it might be. But people don’t want me there.” You say, a truth that you had to stomach, something that you grew used to after too many unsavory encounters with other Slytherins when you tried to come down to the common rooms during social hours. 

“So during the hours of two to eight, you don’t go to the common room?” He didn’t even look up, his voice sarcastic, not believing such an insane thing.

“No.” You reply as if it was obvious as if he should at least know that this is why you rarely ever make an occurrence unless it’s early in the morning or late at night. 

That finally gets him to stop and look at you, confusion woven into his expression. 

“What?” He set his pen down again, and you noted that his eyes seemed a different shade of blue when he was confused, a little bit lighter than usual, he seemed like he was the only one not in on some sort of joke, “So from two to eight you just stay in your room?” 

You shake your head, playing with your fingers. 

“I’m not always in my room,” ignominy clear in your tone, “Most days I either go outside and do my homework or go to the library.” 

You hate the attention this brings to you from him. You’ve never had such a long conversation with somebody in your own house, let alone Gojo. You hated the way he looked at you as if you were either lying your arse off or even worse…pity?

But you almost shook your head at that thought. The great Gojo Satoru pitying you? 

“What if it’s raining?” He asked, pushing you to see if you were telling him the truth. 

“Then I go to the library,” you said as if it was obvious, mainly because to you it was. This was the usual schedule that you’ve become used to over the years, something you’ve just forced yourself to become used to despite wanting everything in your soul to go to the common rooms like everybody else, to laugh at their stories, to talk about your lives, like you were supposed to. 

“What if the libraries closed?” 

You squirm under his heavy gaze, wondering how the topic of transfiguration got turned around to him interrogating you. 

“Um, well, right now, because of the weather, I’d probably just go up to the astronomy tower if the library was closed. They don’t have lessons during the day. Or I’d probably just find a broom closet and do my work in there.” 

His head tilts just a bit, his lips quirking up into a disbelieving smile as if he just caught you in your lie. 

“In the dark?” Gojo presses, and you can hear the people around you already beginning to pack up their supplies, the class nearing its end. Had you spent this much time talking that you wasted nearly half an hour?

“I’d cast a lumos spell,” you argue, packing up your things as you break eye contact with him. You take your paper back, making sure the ink has dried before putting it in your bag. 

“I’ll be in the library,” you say finally, making sure that was the end of it, “See you there.”

—

In some strange way, meeting up with Gojo in the library became part of your routine. 

Every night at seven, after his quidditch practice would end, he’d run all across the entirety of campus to work on your transfigurations essay together. 

The two of you still didn’t talk much, but it was different nonetheless. 

“I’m tired,” Gojo suddenly announced, the candlelight flickering on and off from his face. 

You could visibly see the dark circles that were under his eyes, how he slouched (which was uncommon for him, seeing how he usually sat as straight as a ruler wherever he was), and how he couldn’t go four minutes without letting out an exhausted sigh. 

“You should take a break,” you muttered, not paying attention, head still stuck in your book as you continued to read the rest of the paragraph you were reading. 

Gojo snorted, rolling his eyes at the prospect. 

“I can’t take a break,” he dragged his hands across his face, “I need to finish this essay, the quidditch games in two days, and Snapes up my arse about that potion exam.” 

Your eyes flickered up to his, startled at how much he had spoken, but then tried to mask your surprise by looking back down to your book.

“Potions wasn’t too bad,” you offer, “And I can finish the last bits you have,” you look back up, putting your hand out, a silent ask for him to give you whatever it was that he had written so far. 

He clicked his tongue against his teeth, silently passing over his stack of parchment, and you scanned through it quietly, shrugging as you nodded once more. 

To be honest, the two of you were far ahead of the other students in your class. He had eventually concluded on his own that you’d be wasting more time not working together, so you guessed that he just had to suck up a bit and bite back on his pride and work with a muggle-born.

His rush to finish the essay was spurred on by the plethora of other things he needed to do, a drawback of being the prime and perfect Slytherin prince everybody made him out to be. 

“You don’t have much left,” you deduce, “I can just write about the Scalivier trials,” the trial in which a man refused to register with the ministry that he was an animagus, “I’ll have it done by Saturday, I’m nearly done with my bit.”

You slide his essay back to him, but stop when you see the perplexed look on his face. 

“Saturday’s the quidditch game?”. 

Your eyes dart to the side, squinting a bit as you try for a laugh. 

“…and?” 

He scratches at his temple, tilting his head to the side. After these past couple of days working with you, he’d be wrong to say that he became more and more increasingly perplexed with you. Six years he spent watching from afar, muttering words to his friends about the absurdity of your existence, but now that he was able to see you from up close, a part of him has to agree that you’re an enigma he’s never been able to crack. 

You don’t say much during class, you don’t talk to many people, and if he was being honest, in that sense, you mirrored him. You were reserved, but the times he picked and prodded at you, you seemed to open up. You don’t have any friends from what he could tell, often eating at the end of the table during the meals. He watched sometimes to see you during the common rooms during the times in which you said you never came, a part of him thinking he’d be able to catch you. 

Gojo Satoru would never admit it, but in a way, he had become interested in you.

“Well,” Gojo didn’t like to be the one confused, hating being perceived as if he didn’t know everything, which is something he prided himself on most of the time, “After the game, there’s the usual…party,” he bit out, hating the word, because it was so unruly from the usual balls and galas he was forced attend, too many people sweaty and jumping, “In the common room.” 

You blink owlishly at him, fidgeting with your quill, twisting and turning it around in your hand. 

“Right…so I’ll be here.” 

Now it was his turn to blink slowly. 

Was this really that hard to understand?

“Coming to the library after a quidditch game seems a bit anticlimactic, don’t you think?” He leaned back in his chair, playing with the green and silver tie around his neck. You wondered how he could bear to wear it even after classes were over, that even his most posh friend ditched their formal wear the moment they got back to their dormitories. 

“Thankfully I don’t go to quidditch games, so for me, it’s just climatic,” you said, smiling at your little joke, covering your mouth as you yawned, tired and longing for your bed. 

He sat up in his chair suddenly, looking even more shocked than before. This was the most emotion you’ve ever seen him emmett before and you didn’t know what to do with it. 

“What? Why not?” He seemed so startled that you almost wanted to laugh. It was strange seeing somebody you had regarded as stoic look like he did now. 

You shrug, rubbing your fingers across your eyes as you let out another yawn, resting your chin on your palm. 

“I went once, during my first year, but everybody seemed rather annoyed that I was there, and they crowded in front of me so I couldn’t see anything,” you recall back on the memory, one that you could remember vividly, “and I don’t know,” you’re suddenly very thirsty, your cheeks heating up the more he stared at you, laughing uncomfortably, “I don’t really understand…quidditch, so it works out in the end. And I also get to have some time to myself in the common room to do my homework, you know, unlike usual.” 

Gojo didn’t say anything for a couple of seconds, and you tried to pretend that you had read something interesting to not embarrass yourself any further with your mindless babbling. Sure, he might be willing to work with you now, but that didn’t mean that Gojo Satoru was up for a friendly conversation with you.

You looked at him briefly, feeling your stomach churn a bit to see that he hadn’t stopped looking at you.

“Everything alright?” You asked. 

He nodded, biting on the inside of his cheek as he picked up his quill, a wordless agreement that the conversation was over.

—

Transfiguration the next day went by oddly silent. 

Gojo didn’t talk to himself now and then, he didn’t sigh his exasperated sigh, and he didn’t peek up every once in a while to check how much you’d written since the last time he had looked over. 

You didn’t pay it much attention, keeping your head down, your eyes to yourself. Silence was better than being reminded of your muggle heritage, which even then, Gojo had yet to remind you these past weeks.

Briefly, you looked up from what you were doing to see if Professor McGonagall was walking around or sitting at her desk, but in doing so you felt Gojo shuffle a little in his seat as if he had felt your sudden movement. 

“Tonight…” he started and you quickly nodded, waving off any of his worries. Of course, you chided yourself, he’s anxious about the quidditch match, nothing else.

“Yes, yes, I know, you have quidditch tomorrow. I’ll finish up what I have left and then start reading about the Scalivier trials tonight,” you finished for him, tracing some of the wood grains of the table with your finger. 

He shakes his head. 

“Not that - and I’ll finish up the trials by Sunday,” he’s avoiding eye contact, and if you didn’t know any better it seemed like he was trying to find his words, as if they had slipped from his tongue and were dangling in the air for him to grab, “Tonight…tonight, don’t go to the library.” 

You purse your lips, trying to smile to see if that was his goal, maybe he was trying to be funny.

“Would you like to meet in one of the broom closets then?”

You felt even more lost after it seemed like he was debating taking up your offer, but his eyes shone a bright shade of aquamarine, and his cheeks twinged a slight shade of pink. 

Strange. 

“No,” he chewed on his lip, as if he were anxious, a preposterous thing to even think, “No, come down to the common rooms around eight.” 

The cursed clock tower chimed, three loud rings, and it cut the two of you off once again. 

“Look, I told you-” you go to say but he cuts you off.

“I know, just come down.” He was being so cryptic, and he looked so on edge that it was starting to freak you out. He was already beginning to pack up, his eyes snapping to his group of friends that were nearing the two of you, and he quickly looked back down at you, his head dipping down urgently. 

“Eight. Be there.” 

—-

You couldn’t say you weren’t at least a little apprehensive. 

You were so nervous that you just stayed up in your room, not even coming downstairs for dinner as you waited for the clock on the wall to read eight. 

Why were you so nervous? You first asked yourself, but then asked the more logical question, what did Gojo want with you?

The minutes on the clock seemed to take hours to pass, and the hours seemed to take days. It was such a slow process, and you knew it would be going faster if you were doing something more productive with your time until it was necessary, but you couldn’t. 

The other girls in your dorms could come in and out, sometimes exchanging glances with their friends when they saw that you hadn’t moved from your spot, but they didn’t ask any questions, opting to just leave you be. 

You were picked at your fingers, cracking your knuckles, and finally, finally, the small hand pointed to the eight on that ancient clock. 

Funnily enough, even though you had been mentally waiting for this to happen, you waited for a couple of seconds, trying to calm yourself down, nodding to yourself that this wasn’t anything big and that you were just overreacting. 

Slowly, you rose from your spot on your bed, a little dent in the mattress from just how long you’d been sitting there. You turn the handle of the door, taking in yet another deep as you take a tentative step outside the safe sanctity of your room. 

The common rooms are usually more busy on Friday nights, and that might’ve been a blessing in disguise as you’re able to slip past most people, keeping your eyes peeled for a flash of white hair. 

You scan the couch area, the sitting area, and the large window that looks into the black lake, but you don’t see him. It’s only until you look near the entrance to the common room, the large oak double doors, do you see him. 

It seems like he’s scanning the area as well, blue eyes looking everywhere until they fall onto yours, and you’re able to sneak past some people watching as he cocks his head in the motion of the doors, and before you could do anything else, he leaves, and you take it as your sig to follow him.

You’re glad that nobody’s looking your way as you push the two doors open, looking to your right to see him waiting for you. 

You go to open your mouth to speak but he beats you to it. 

“Follow me, and be quick,” he’s already walking and you have to nearly jog to get to him, walking at a much faster pace seeing how his legs were abnormally long, “Put these on over your clothes.” 

Gojo throws you a pile of ratty-looking uniforms, but the more you open up the folded mess you come to realize that they’re old quidditch uniforms. In fact, when you’re finally able to get a good look at him you realize he’s wearing adoring green robes. 

You don’t say anything, multitasking as you walk and shrug over the (huge, it was practically dragging on the floor) robes, buttoning them up as quickly as you could without tripping over your feet, the quidditch uniform, or over the stones. 

He looks at you briefly, and he’s glad that you’re too busy trying to figure out how the robes are supposed to fit over you to notice the way his lips quirked up slightly at the look of you at the moment. 

“Put this on too,” he says once you're finally done, handing you another huge helmet, and you take it silently, pulling it over your head. 

The helmet is way too big for you, as it nearly hangs over your eyes, and you can barely see anything with it on, and you pause, a smile making its way onto your face as you push it up only for it to fall again.

You stop walking for a second, and when Gojo looks back he sees the helmet masking most of your face up until your nose, the only thing he can see is your large grin, the sleeves of the uniform enveloping your hands, reaching to your knees, and for the first time, he hears the softest sound, 

You’re giggling as you try to figure out how to tighten the straps on the helmet, not able to see where Gojo is because you have your head tilted down, struggling with the buckle until his boots come into your field of vision. 

All of a sudden you feel a hand tip your helmet upwards, and your smile falters when you now see his face, the way his eyes are swirling with different hues of blues, something you notice that happened when he was battling multiple emotions at once. You can tell that there’s a small, barely noticeable smile on his face, surely from how insane you look right now. 

You’ve never seen him look so at ease. His shoulders seem more relaxed, his jaw not clenched. It helped that he looked like he was smiling for once. 

But there’s no time to think as you feel the brush of him on your skin, his slender and swift fingers working fast and expertly at tightening the strap under your chin. He looks focused, his white brows scrunched up the way he always does when he’s trying to figure out a transfiguration rune. You feel your breath lodge in your throat. When he’s satisfied with how it was resting on your face his hands drop to his side, and his eyes slightly widen, as if he just realized what he had just done. 

He cleared his throat, looking around the hall to make sure that nobody was around, and he turned his back as he began his brisk pace out to wherever it was that he was taking you.

You walked, corrected, ran with him for a little more until he brought you to one of the openings of the castle, the one that led directly to the quidditch fields. 

“Where,” you were a little out of breath, noticing how the sun was nearly about to set, and also knowing that you sure as hell didn’t have a pass to be out this late, “Where’re we going?” 

“To the field,” he said, which was the answer you were most dreading. 

“Right, I can see that,” you feel hot under all these layers, despite the fact that it was late October and the weather was biting at best, “Why are we going out to the fields.” The breeze that was hitting your cheeks was stinging, so you were at least glad in that aspect that the quidditch robe offered you some sort of warmth. 

“Ravenclaws practicing right now,” Gojo said, turning around to look at you for a fleeting second, “I need to see what Nanami’s strategy is, and you need to learn quidditch.” 

You almost trip. 

And you need to learn quidditch.

His words were ringing in your head, possibly even louder than the blood rushing to your ears. He had to be lying, or have some sort of cruel prank planned out. He must be waiting for his friends to run out from behind one of the stands so that they could tie you to a tree. Not that he’s ever done that, but also not the first time it’d be happening at the hands of other Slytherins. 

Because sure, while you might’ve offended him in saying you didn’t understand how quidditch worked, that wouldn’t mean that he, Gojo Satoru, the Prince of Slytherin, hater of all muggle-borns alike, would be taking time out of his life to fix this wrong.

You should’ve just run the other way, ditched the scratchy uniform somewhere, and ran back to your dormitory, somewhere where you’d at least be safe from experiencing any sort of humiliation. 

But the closer that the two of you neared the stands, the more you felt confused. Because nowhere could you see any other Slytherins, and he was right, the Ravenclaw team was practicing right now, if the flashes of blue and white from above you meant anything. 

Which could only mean that…? 

Gojo finally stops at the stairs that lead you up the stands, his hand on the wooden railing. 

“We’re going…up?” 

He snorts, nodding as he ushers you to move. 

“Obviously,” his voice now seems more amplified with his small and cramped winding staircase, “I’m not going to be observing them from the ground.” 

You’re the one that’s ahead, so you try to go even faster so that he won’t be held up behind you, but everything is moving too fast. Did he give you these robes so that you’d seem like another player? So that you wouldn’t be marked up if you were seen out of your dormitory so late at night?

When you finally got to the opening, you were able to hear the yells that the Ravenclaw players were enhancing with one another. You hold the tarp that acted as the door above your head, heading over to one of the seats in the far back, feeling Gojo right on your tail. 

It had been years since you were here since you looked out into the fields. The stands were high, and the winds were stronger up here. Gojo sat where you were, to your right, and you waited silently to see what he was going to do. 

Nanami was the Ravenclaw seeker as well as the captain. You could see the flash of blonde hair as he flew by, the other team members either watching him or practicing with their respective posts. 

Gojo rested his elbow on his thighs, leaning in as he observed intently. 

Eventually, after a minute or two, he sat back up, leaning in closer to you. You could feel his hair ticking your temple, his nose inches away from your cheek as he began to talk. 

“In quidditch, you have seven players on each side. One seeker, one keeper, three chasers, and two beaters.” 

You nod, following along. 

“You see number seven?” He points to the guy flying around near the three tall hoops, and you nod again, “He’s a keeper. He makes sure that the other team doesn’t get any balls into the hoops.” Gojo is leaning even closer to you now, and you can feel half of his body pressing up against yours. You feel like you're heating up, and not because of the excessive quidditch uniform you’re wearing. 

“The beaters, number four and two,” he then points to the boy and the girl flying around, holding wooden bats, “try to protect their team from the bludgers; which is this black ball that sort of follows around team members, trying to knock them off their brooms. Those bats ward off the bludgers.” 

You make a mental note of everything he’s saying, trying not to be distracted by the fact that you’re being given a quidditch lesson from Gojo Satoru. 

“The chasers, which are the rest of them, aside from Nanami, throw around the quaffle to each other. Every time they get it through the other team's hoop, they score ten points…do you follow?” Gojo pauses, looking at you and you push your helmet up so that you can see him, giving him a confident nod. 

“All that’s left is the seeker-” 

“Which is you, right?” You cut him off, rubbing at your nose which was now freezing at this point. 

Gojo pauses, eyes flickering to you as he raises a brow. 

“I may not know quidditch but I’m not daft,” you tell him.

For a second there, you swear you could see the start of a smile play on his lips.

“Yeah,” he says, almost softly, “I’m the seeker.” You’re too busy looking ahead to notice that he’s busy looking at you, so you continue to talk. 

“...plus, Kento was telling me about it a while ago. He said you were really good.”

This time, his brow raised even further. 

“You know him?” 

You shrug, your eyes following the quick and hurried movements of all the players, too focused on their practice to notice the change in Gojo’s voice, or overall, the change in his entire demeanor. You must’ve missed how he slightly tensed up, or the way his eyes narrowed. 

“We had potions with Ravenclaw last year, remember?” You turn slightly to look over at Gojo before you go back to watching, “He helped me with some of my brews, but we talked about other stuff!” You had to raise your voice, the wind was getting stronger, “And Quidditch came up!”

Gojo’s nose flared momentarily before he swallowed thickly, his jaw ticking as he tried to focus back on the practice as well. 

“A-anyways,” he cleared his throat, not remembering that last time he choked on his words, “The seeker catches the snitch. I can’t see where it is now, but once the snitch is caught, the game is over.” He tried to push some of the hair out of his face, getting annoyed at how it kept getting stuck in his eyes. 

“I need to get something, I’ll be back,” Gojo murmured in your ear, pushing himself off of the seat as he walked in front of you disappearing down the stairs within seconds. 

You glanced at where he left but found yourself looking back to the players, your face breaking into another excited smile when you began to piece together what Gojo had just told you, finally able to understand quidditch after all these years.

The sun had set and the stars were peeking out through the sky, and you watched the players as they furiously rode around, each one tense and stressed for the match that would be happening tomorrow. 

You tried to hide yourself in the background as much as you could, now feeling a little more out in the open with Gojo gone.

The minutes ticked by and yet Gojo didn’t come back. Now and then you found yourself looking at the stairs, eyes darting back and forth from those on their broomsticks to where you had first entered from. 

Slowly yet surely, you found yourself in that position the first night you saw him at that library. 

When the Ravenclaw players slowly began dissenting from the air, running off the fields as they went in from shelter from the old, you felt a part of your stomach twist. 

This was all part of his plan, you concluded, shivering to yourself as you tried not to feel let down, or even worse, like an idiot for thinking anything had changed, that you had maybe actually begun to have a friend after seven years.

You feel your eyes water, either from the wind or from everything, and you make your way for the stairs, your lips trembling as you suddenly start to feel claustrophobic under all the clothes you're wearing, your fingers slipping and sliding as you try to take that wretched helmet off of your head.

You feel like if you go any faster you’re going to trip and tumble down the stairs, and it doesn't help that you’re already too distracted with trying to take the helmet off. You sniffle, your eyes blurry as you feel your heart beat rapidly in your chest. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

You couldn’t even tell if you were thinking that in your head or saying it out loud as you neared the end of the never-ending stairs, unbuttoning the buttons of the scratchy uniform as you bundled everything up in your hands, wiping at your wet cheeks with your palm.

Amongst all the things people have done to you over the years, this wasn’t the worst. You’ve had your room ransacked, your trunk thrown into the river, your shoes stolen on multiple occasions. You’ve been called a mudblood more times than you’ve been called your own name, and none of these things were actually done by Gojo. 

Perhaps you thought that deep down, maybe he could change. That maybe after all that time spent in the library, talking to you, controlling some of his laughs at your awful jokes, he saw that maybe muggle-borns weren’t as bad as he thought they were. 

And yet tonight you suffered your first prank, if that’s what this could even be called, at his hands. It didn’t hurt because of its nature, but because a naive part of you actually thought that he could’ve been your friend. 

But none of that mattered now, not that you-

“Where are you going?” 

You stop in your tracks, your head whipping around to the voice. 

It was now fully dark outside, the moon and the spare candles that were lit around the castle and the stands were the only sources of light. You could see his figure standing a couple feet away from you, his white hair like a beacon in the night. 

He takes a couple tentative steps closer to you, close enough so that you can see the furrow of his brows and the small pout on his lips. Damn it, you wanted to curse, you could hate him more if he didn’t look so pretty. 

“Back to the castle,” you snap, wiping at the corners of your eyes, throwing down the old uniform and the oversized helmet on the ground near his feet. You sniffle, looking to the side so that you won’t have to see his face.

“What?” He steps closer to you and you take a step back, your head still turned, eyes trained on the dewy grass, “Why?” You try not to think too much about the two sets of brooms in his hands, or how for some strange reason, he actually sounded dejected that you were leaving.

Letting out a shaky breath you laugh curtly, crossing your arms over your chest as you look up to the sky, counting the stars, wondering if that could calm you down. 

You hear the grass crunch under his feet, the warmth of his body as he comes in close to you. 

Why does he care? 

“I brought you a broom,” he holds it to you so you can see the outline of it, “Here,” he bends down to pick up the helmet you had thrown to the ground, “At least put this on,” he’s already securing it on your head, not noticing the way your lips were trembling, his fingers brushing up against your chin once again but you don’t him faster it, smacking his hand to the side as you rip the helmet off your head, throwing it with more force on the ground. 

“S-stop,” you murmur harshly, wiping at your cheeks, “Stop, stop whatever it is you’re doing-” 

“I’m not doing anything,” he snarls, his eyes a dark shade of navy blue, “So stop crying, I don’t know what it is you think I did.”

He’s angry now, good, it’ll be easier to yell at him if he’s just as amped up as you are. 

But when you finally look at him and get to see his face, it’s not the kind of anger you’re feeling. His eyes are narrowed, his eyebrows pulling together down the middle the way they do when he’s confused, the way you often see him looking like when he’s frustrated at your cursed transfigurations essay. He’s not angry at you because of you, he’s angry because he doesn't understand where your frustrations are coming from. 

He’s at least a head taller than you, looking down as his chest heaves slightly, waiting for you to say something, anything, so that he could explain himself for whatever it is he’s done wrong. His cheeks are a little pink, either from the cold or…something else, and his hair is messy, no longer kept the way it usually is. 

Gojo looks different.

And you don’t know who it was that moved in closer, whose rational mind slowly turned irrational as you two took another step towards the middle, but all you do know is that the two of you didn’t care as you roughly grabbed him by his robes, tugging him in as you slammed your lips to his. 

It happened in an instant, your lips moving against his soft one, your hands gripping onto that fabric for dear life. And for a second, you begin to pull away, your eyes opening in shock, but there’s no use, because Gojo slams his lips down onto yours as he pulls you into his chest. 

It’s rushed and messy, your teeth clash against one another, your hands going up from his chest as they intertwine around his neck, your fingers tugging on his long white strands and you hear him groan into your mouth. 

He moves fast, biting at your lips, one hand sprawled on the expanse of your back, the other one behind your neck, almost cradling the back of your head, tilting your head upwards to meet him. His tongue prods at your lips, and somehow, mindlessly, you part them a little more, moaning quietly at the way his tongue explores your mouth. 

Gojo leads you a little back, so that you’re up against one of the wooden pillars of the quidditch stands, offering you more stability, a good thing, seeing how you feel like you're becoming lightheaded, soon about to faint. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, heavy on your lips as he dips down again to kiss down your chin tilting your head up to expose the column of your neck, “Fuck,” he says once more, diving down as he sucks and bites at your skin, his movements growing faster and more erratic once he hears the soft and sweet mewls that escape your swollen lips. 

“G-gojo,” you whine, feeling hot as his hands travel across your chest, cupping your tits through your thin sweater as he continues to kiss down your neck, tugging some of the material down so that he could leave even more marks across your collarbone, “G-god, oh my god,” 

His pants tighten at your voice, his pupils dilate at the way you're pawing at him, pulling at him, needing him. 

“Satoru,” he says against your skin, “Not Gojo. Not you.” 

He’s delirious, he kisses you like you’re the air he’s been missing his entire life, and holds you to him as if you’re the only furnace in a land barren with snow. He needs you. 

Your fingers are lost in his hair, pulling and tugging, hearing the way his breathing stutters when you do so. 

One of your hands drops down to his chest, feeling at the skin that’s exposed from where his uniform was pulling up, and when your cold fingers make contact with the skin resting taunt on his stomach you swear you could hear him almost whine, his head momentarily dropping into the crook of your neck as he urges you to continue, holding your wrist tightly, pushing it up further. 

Your eyes find his, your breathing coming out in short spurts, and he seems so far gone, so transfixed with how you look under him, that the two of you fail to hear the footsteps that come near where the two of you were.

“Who’s there?” 

A voice calls out, and you see somebody behind him standing with a lantern. 

You push Gojo off of you, but he stays put, looking over his shoulder, shielding your body with his. 

“Oh, fuck off Taylor,” Gojo calls out, anger and irritation laced into his voice.

The boy's eyes widen when he realizes how it is, the blue and white Ravenclaw robes dashing away into the distance, the lantern long gone in a matter of seconds, but it’s no use. 

When Gojo looks down at you, you’ve been given too much time to come back to your senses. 

You push him away from you, and this time he moves.

You take a deep breath, not looking at him as you wipe at your spit-soaked lips, blinking rapidly as you try to make sense of what happened. 

He didn't say anything, but you could hear the quiet pants that escaped his lips, trying to catch some air. 

You open your mouth to say something but close it promptly, shaking your head in disbelief. 

You don’t think twice as you make your way back to the castle.

---

(part two)

taglist (CLOSED): @satorusemepls, @mokonasenpaiposts, @kao-ri, @rinxgojo, @notsochillnerd, @astral-hydromancy, @holylonelyponyeatingmacaron, @tedbunny333, @13-09-01, @mynameislove1, @hyunsuks-beanie

[minus-plus-zer0]

Jealousy

♡ Genre: Hurt/comfort, very fluff ending ♡ Pairing: Pro Hero!Bakugou x Reader ♡ Tags: Aged up, established relationships, dating (Jealousy on both sides, it's all unfounded so don't worry! You two are loyal like dogs to each other)

Bakugou was the jealous type.

Everybody in the entire country knew that. There was nothing Bakugou hated more than imagining you leaving him for somebody else. You wanted to tease him about it sometimes, but his jealousy made him so distressed that you ended up comforting him instead.

Currently, Bakugou was still seething at the man who last flirted with you. The guy disappeared into the street's crowd under Bakugou's contemptuous gaze. His anger could only be distracted by you and your words.

"It's okay, Katsuki," you said, while hugging him. "I only love you. I didn't even flirt back, you know?"

"...I know," Bakugou said. He kissed you on the lips, somewhat possessively. When he opened his eyes again, he looked so sad. "One of these days I wonder if you're gonna find somebody better than me."

"Katsuki!" You glared at him. "I could never find someone better than you! You are the sweetest, most loyal guy I've ever met! Even if you do have a temper." You giggled, poking his forehead.

"Dummy." Bakugou rested his forehead against yours, his arm close around your waist. "Sorry. Shouldn't have gotten jealous."

"No, it's okay! Always tell me when you're jealous, always!"

That's how most of Bakugou's jealousy fits went. Over time, Bakugou became less and less easily aggravated, but he still had his possessive moments. But no matter what, he'd never take his anger out on you or try to control you out of fear.

Meanwhile, you rarely got jealous of Bakugou, mainly because you weren't the type but also because there wasn't much to be jealous of. Bakugou made it crystal clear to everyone what he did and didn't like, and you were one of the few things included on the "like" list. In fact, you were the only person ever included on the "love" list.

But despite Bakugou's poor reputation with the public, he still occasionally found fans who fawned over him. These fans sometimes made you uncomfortable.

One day, you two were out in public together in a quiet side path of the town, walking between various shops. Coincidentally, you caught some of his fawning fans exiting a store. Bakugou paid them no attention but you couldn't take your eyes off of the potential "predators" on your relationship. The fans soon passed but not without some loud screeching and several pictures taken without Bakugou's permission. Initially it irritated Bakugou, but you noticed by the end of it he was paying more attention to you.

"Are you jealous?" he asked, seriously. You two walked in the opposite direction of the fans, their voices getting less loud with more distance.

"Of course not..." you lied. "They're just random fans, it doesn't matter."

You didn't want him to tease you for this. This was one of the few times you had to deal with jealousy, and it took you off guard. It was irrational too, and you knew it. Still, you didn't always like being actively reminded that Bakugou could be wanted by others.

Bakugou wasn't having this. He stopped you in the middle of the side path you walked down, his expression focused.

"Don't be jealous, alright?" he said. You opened your mouth to speak, but he interrupted. "And don't deny that you are jealous! I've been jealous of you tons of times, so I can recognize that shit anywhere. But it's just your mind playing tricks on you. You're still the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I only go for the best, ya hear me?" He started beaming at you, and you could tell he really meant it. "I'd rather throw myself off a cliff than go back on my promises to you."

That did warm your heart. He caught your lips turning up and his hand brushed against your cheek, but you still shied away from him.

"I just don't get why you chose me," you said. "You've got so many fans. Sometimes I wonder if there are better options for you out there..."

"I fucking doubt it. I have the best judgment and the best taste, so if I chose you, that fucking means something. It means you're as great as me... or better. Now don't go saying that negative stuff about my girlfriend. Or else."

"O-okay! Alright!"

You didn't know what the heck he could be threatening you with, but you didn't want to find out. Regardless, he still looked after you and made sure nothing the fans did ever bothered you. He would never tease you for your jealousy, because he personally knew how much it hurt. You were one of the few people he could trust, and because of that you two were dead loyal to each other no matter the odds.

[borathae]

↳ Index [Snippet #44 - Face Fuck]

"When Jungkook sucks your strap."

Genre: married life!AU, some Slice of Life Fluff, Smut

Warnings: my bois Yoonmin make an appearance, sub!Jungkook, Dom!Reader, masochist!Jungkook, kneeling, cock rubbing over briefs, she steps on his cock, girl bulge ngng, this is the nasties blowjob ever, strap sucking, squirting dildo, fake cum eating & play, deep throating, face fucking, so much gagging, tears, drool, Jungkook is so needy for her cock, hair pulling, tongue spanking, face slapping with cock, praise, degradation ("needy cockslut", "whore" etc.), good boy kink, he calls her ma'am, she calls him puppy, mental orgasms (f.receiving), creampieing, he bites her neck as he cums, he also scratches her from neediness, tears after sex, loving aftercare, snuggles and kisses, they’re in love and kinky :(

Wordcount: 7.8k

a/n: *sluttish barking and growling*

You and Jungkook are ready for bed. Freshly showered, moisturized, clean teeth and comfy pjs. You are done and ready. Cozy and snuggly. Warm and sleepy. You aren’t cuddling anymore as you always break apart before sleep to get more comfortable. You are still facing each other, having enough distance between your faces that you don’t breathe in each other’s air, but you still have enough closeness so that you can hold hands. 

Well, it is more so that Jungkook is holding your hand, while you are getting closer and closer to sleepy town. He is tracing your knuckles, staring into the darkness. You have your blinds down, so he can’t see anything, but just the knowledge that you were there is comforting him. He could never sleep in separate beds, let alone separate rooms. You and he talked about it, as one married couple does at some point in their marriage, because you heard from others that it could be beneficial to the marriage. Not for you and Jungkook. You tried it for two nights, before both of you left your rooms to coincidentally meet in the hallway.

“I don’t like this. Wanna be with you”, you told him sleepily as you instinctively touched his tummy for the familiar feel of him.

“I hate it, wanna share a bed”, he answered you and then you and he went to bed in your shared bedroom and you cuddled, falling asleep seconds later. 

That was years ago and, unless circumstances make you, you never slept in separate beds again. 

You love being together. You love knowing that the other is close and that you have each other. You love being able to cuddle whenever, to hold hands and stub feet, you love that you can kiss and snuggle and that you can also chat whenever. The little sleep sounds each of you makes are also very relaxing to both of you. Even Jungkook’s snoring. Somehow it relaxes you because it lets you know that you have him with you. Yeah, you’re that crazy for the man. He is just as crazy however, because he loves your sleep mumbling. It’s utter nonsense and most of the time unintelligible, but he loves it because it means that he has you with him. 

Tonight, Jungkook can’t quite find sleepiness. He feels tired and drowsy, but he can’t fall asleep yet. There is a thought keeping him awake and he needs to share it with you.

He whispers your name.

“Ye”, you breathe. 

“Can I tell you something?”

“Mh-hm.”

“Please don’t laugh at me.”

“Kay.”

“I was thinking and maybe, I don’t know, maybe it could be hot if I sucked your strap? Maybe?”

A few seconds of silence where you clearly gather your strength.

“My strap?” you lull.

“Yeah. I give it head, suck it and if you want to, you can push my head down on it and fuck my face with it. Yeah, I’d like to kneel. I think that could be hot”, 

“M’kay”, you mumble and exhale deeply. Jungkook knows for a fact that you are barely conscious at this point. He is so stupid for bringing it up now. He wanted to do it earlier, but was too nervous. Now he is risking that you won’t even truly take in what he is telling you. 

“Could you be interested in that? I know you wouldn’t really feel it and it’s kinda a little weird of me to wanna suck dick, but yeah.”

“s’not weird.”

“Sorry, I’m nervous”, Jungkook confesses in a whisper, “I know it’s not weird. I guess, I’m just scared you’d hate it.”

“No, just…”, you lull and exhale, “so sleep-mhm.” 

“Did you just fall asleep?”

You mumble something he can’t decipher.

“Baby?”

No new mumbles. 

“You actually fell asleep. No baby, I wasn’t done”, he whines quietly, squeezing your hand, “please, I hope you heard it.” 

He falls asleep not knowing whether his stupid fantasy was heard or not. 

He doesn’t get clarity the next morning because you had to leave before he wakes. He also doesn’t get clarity during the day because other than your good morning texts, you don’t text a lot. You also text him later that day that you and Jimin will meet up for the gym, so Jungkook doesn’t have to pick you up from the restaurant.

Jungkook leaves the studio feeling defeated. Out of all the days, the universe decides to make today the day of barely any communication. He feels very jittery driving home and regrets ever telling you. What if the reason why you weren’t texting him a lot and are now going to the gym with Jimin is because you are weirded out by the idea? What if you are trash talking about him to Jimin? Not that you ever do, but what if? 

Once home and Bam’s dinner is taken care of, Jungkook decides to text you again. He needs to know that you aren’t ignoring him or else he’ll go crazy.

-          Jungkook: Are you eating at home or will you guys go somewhere?

He is in the home gym when you answer him 

-          Wifey ♡: Jimin invited me over for dinner.

Jungkook pouts.

-          Jungkook: Okie dokie :) 

He tries to make his message sound normal even though he is currently aching. He feels so nervous and left out. You probably told Jimin about the weird shit Jungkook asked of you and are now trying to stay away for as long as possible.

-          Wifey ♡: did you cook already?

-          Jungkook: No :) 

-          Wifey ♡: good. Come over as well ♡

-          Jungkook: YES OKAY *-*

-          Wifey ♡: hahahaha I knew you were being sulky

Jungkook smiles, kicking his feet.

-          Jungkook: Why would you think that?

-          Wifey ♡: cause you never use :) unless you’re trying to be sarcastic or fake happy 

-          Jungkook: That’s not true :) :)

-          Wifey ♡: hahhahah you’re cute ♡ bring Bam too ♡

-          Jungkook: Okie dokie ♡♡♡ when can I come over?

-          Wifey ♡: whenever you’re done. We’re leaving the gym rn

-          Jungkook: Got it ♡ 

Jungkook abandons his gym session for the sake of getting ready. He feels so good again. You aren’t avoiding him. He is so happy.

Yoongi and Jimin don’t live that far from your place. Just a few minutes by bike and around twenty minutes by foot. Jungkook decides to take Bam for a walk. It’ll take you and Jimin a good thirty minutes to get home. 

Yoongi opens the door for Jungkook, wearing an apron and a bandana to keep his dark hair out of his face.

“Hey there”, he greets Jungkook.

“Hey. ___ told me that I can come over for dinner?”

“Yeah, sorry I look like a mess. I’m making aglio e oglio”, Yoongi says and looks at Bam, “hey Bamie, how are you?” he greets him in a squeaky voice.

The Doberman huffs out air in greeting, jumping on his tiptoes as his tail wags excitedly and his nose sniffles at Yoongi. The latter is petting him, cooing silly, little things. Jungkook takes off his shoes and light jacket in the meantime.

Holly is by his feet, wagging his tail at Jungkook. And so it happens that the two heavily-tattooed men are cooing and wooing in the entrance way as they greet each other’s adorable fur babies. Said fur babies soon scurry off to play with each other, filling the background with their playful noises. Bam and Holly get along great, despite their size differences and Holly’s anxious nature, and you often meet up with each other for doggy play dates. You are happy that they are friends. It feels as if your children were friends. 

Yoongi and Jungkook walk to the kitchen, chatting.

“Can I help you with dinner?”Jungkook offers.

“No, it’s okay.”

“Are you sure? I’m here now, you know.”

“Maybe set the table?”

“I’ll do that. How are you doing?”

“Yeah, I’m good. The Tigers won last night’s game.”

The Tigers were Yoongi’s favourite basketball team. He watches every game and even has a few fan memorabilia scattered around the house.

“Yo, that’s amazing dude. That’s like the third game they’re winning, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is. I screamed so loud, you have no idea”, Yoongi says and chuckles, “I was so excited.”

“I can imagine. Your team’s winning, man”, Jungkook says and nudges his arm in a brotherly manner, “does that mean they’re one win away from qualifying?”

“Yeah. I hope they’ll win. I’d cry. It would make me so happy.”

“I wanna watch the game when it’s on. I gotta see it too.”

“Do you wanna come over? They’re playing this Saturday.”

“Yeah, I’m free on Saturday. I’d be so down to come over.”

“Nice. I’ll get new whisky for high rise.”

“Nice. That’s exciting.” 

The two men continue chatting about the game while Yoongi cooks and Jungkook sets the table. It happens naturally that conversation shifts to their marriages and while Yoongi tells Jungkook about their dying houseplant, Jungkook has something burdening to share.

“Yeah sure, talk to me”, Yoongi allows him.

“Okay so, I’ve been going crazy today. I made a mistake last night.”

“What did you do?”

“I asked ___ if we could do something kinky in bed, but she was almost asleep and now I don’t know if she heard me.”

“What did you ask her?”

“Promise not to laugh.”

“Kook, it’s me. I don’t judge.”

“Yeah, I know. Okay so, I asked her if she’d be down to let me suck her strap.”

“Kinky.”

“I know, but also weird? I guess?”

“Why is it weird? It’s hot.” 

“I guess. I don’t know, I can imagine that it’s not really pleasurable for her?”

“Jungkook”, Yoongi places his hand onto Jungkook’s shoulder, “let me tell you something from my long years of being pan and a whore in my youth.”

Jungkook chuckles.

“The right woman loves to get her strap sucked and I can tell you from experience it gets them off as if it was their real cock.”

“Really? I mean, does it?”

“Yeah, it does.”

“And it feels nice? How does it feel? Did you like it?”

“I loved it. It feels harder than a real cock. It also doesn’t bend as easily and you really gotta relax your throat. It also won’t taste salty like real cock and the smell won’t be there either. And it got me off real fucking good.” 

“It did?”

“Yeah, it did. I couldn’t stop doing it. Ask her again. I’m serious Kook, you’ll regret not trying it.”

“Okay, phew now I’m all hot”, he confesses and laughs.

Yoongi chuckles and turns his back to Jungkook for the sake of stirring the pasta.

“Do it with a squirting strap.”

Jungkook coughs as Yoongi’s blunt suggestion surprised him. He looks over his shoulder, meeting his best friend’s serious gaze.

“Do it”, he insists.

“O-okay, I will.”

“Make her cum on your face.”

“Yoongi, stop”, Jungkook whines.

Yoongi chuckles and looks into the pasta. 

“Is he being annoying again?” 

You and Jimin enter the kitchen. The latter is asking as he hurries to his husband for a back hug. They sway from side to side while Jimin has his chin resting on his shoulder.

“I’m never annoying. You’re annoying”, Yoongi defends himself to which Jimin chuckles and kisses his neck.

“You’re always annoying”, he whispers, earning himself a gentle nudge into his stomach with Yoongi’s elbow. He giggles, hugging his husband tighter while Yoongi pouts and lets it happen.

You greet your husband with less friendly bickering, hugging his arm with your cheek nuzzled against it.

“Hey there.”

“Hey.”

“How are you?”

“Good. I guess. Today wasn’t the best.”

You look at him with worried eyes, touching his waist.

“What happened?”

“Can we talk about it later? I wanna do it alone.”

“Yeah of course”, you say and hug him, “mhhm, I’m transferring my love and good vibes to you.”

Jungkook chuckles, hugging you back with his hand rubbing your back.

“I can feel it, thank you sweetie pie.”

You lift your head, resting your chin against his chest as you grin up at him. He leans down and kisses the bridge of your nose. He feels so good now that you’re here. You don’t hate him for his confession. Yet. 

Dinner with your friends is wonderful. You talk, you laugh, you catch up with each other and later share some whiskey until it was time for you to go. You and Jungkook walk home hand in hand and giggling. You left your bike by Jimin’s and Yoongi’s because you couldn’t possibly drive tonight. You aren’t drunk rather than that you are both giddily tipsy. It’s a nice kind of drunk because you know that it won’t last long and also won’t leave you hungover tomorrow. It is just the perfect amount to make the already amazing evening feel incredible. You first chatted good things about Jimin and Yoongi, before switching the conversation to Bam. You can already see your house when you change topics again after some seconds of silence.

“Why was your day bad?” you ask him.

“What do you mean?”

“You told me your day wasn’t the best. What happened?” 

Jungkook sighs and shrugs his shoulders, “it was my own fault, I guess.”

“Why? What did you do?”

Jungkook hesitates.

“It’s okay. You can talk to me.”

Jungkook takes a deep breath, “okay so.”

“Yeah?”

“Remember last night?” 

“When you asked me if you could suck my strap? Yeah, I do.”

Jungkook’s entire body tenses up in nervousness. So you heard him.

“O-okay.”

“What about it?”

“No-nothing, I just, nothing.”

“I’d be down. You know?”

“Would you really?” Jungkook gasps squeakily, looking at you with widened eyes.

“Yeah, I bet that could be sexy.” 

“Wait. Are you fucking with me? You’d actually be down?”

You nod your head, “yeah.”

“Dude, I was shitting myself all day ‘cause I thought I’d fucked it”, he confesses in a laugh, rounding you so he could walk in front of you and grab your waist. You hold onto his lower arms, smiling up at him.

“Really? You were just straight up shitting yourself for an entire day?”

“Yeah. Straight up.”

He makes you laugh. You and he stop on the sidewalk because laughter was just too good to continue.

“You’re so fucking stupid”, you snicker and scrunch your nose, “I love you like crazy, you doofus.”

“I love you too. Like so much, oh my god baby”, he begins whining with buckling knees and a pouty face, “I wanna suck your strap so bad. Oh my god. Please.”

“Mmh, you’re so cute when you’re begging. How bad you want it?”

“So bad. Like so bad”, he pouts, sagging his shoulders, “wanna gag and choke around you.”

“Hot. I don’t know though, I’m not convinced you actually want it.”

Jungkook mewls, stomping his foot.

“I want it so bad please. Wanna be creamed too.”

Your eyes gleam dangerously, your fingers close around his waist. 

“You wanna be creamed?” you rasp.

“Yeah, so bad”, Jungkook says and gives you his best puppy eyes, “please? Please, please?”

“Mhm shit, you got me”, you give in and take his hand, “we’re doing it tonight?”

“Yeah, holy fuck yes”, Jungkook croaks and jogs after you in little skips. He is so happy that he can’t stop giggling and snuggling into you. It makes walking a little difficult, but you don’t want to change anything. You love it when he’s clingy. 

By the time you have reached the front door, Jungkook’s clinginess turns into neediness. He is kneading your softness, panting against your neck as he is nibbling at it. 

“I fucked it. Holy fuck, I’m so horny”, he gets out and mewls, sucking on your neck in an attempt to find relief.

“We’re almost there. Hold out a little longer”, you promise him and in that moment, the door unlocks. 

Jungkook needs to be a little patient once inside. Not only because you both needed to take off your outdoor clothes, you also needed to wipe Bam’s paws. You are squatting on the ground while Jungkook is standing. He walks up behind you and cages you in between his knees, placing both his hands on the top of your head. He sways you, whining his words.

“I’m needy.”

“Patience. I’m almost done”, you laugh, “Kook stop shaking me, Imma lose balance.”

“Then hurry up”, he whines and sways you more vigorously. 

“Kook”, you cackle, “stop it, you doofus.” 

“Hurry up”, Jungkook whines.

You finish Bam’s last paw, pushing Jungkook away gently so you could get up. 

“You”, you slap his chest gently.

Jungkook is both begging with his puppy eyes and being cocky with them.

“I’m not gonna be faster when you’re acting impatient.”

“But you’re done now”, he says and closes in. He kneads your hips, lowering his eyes halfway to let them run over your face.

You dance your hands from his chest to the nape of his neck. You look at his lips, feeling your stomach flutter. They look so pretty and pouty. Knowing that soon they’ll stretch and move around your strap is turning you on so good. 

Jungkook notices your hungry gaze and sees it as his cue to move in. You stop him with a finger pressed to his lips, making him both whine and chuckle. 

“Here’s what’s gonna happen”, you talk in your sexy voice. The kind of voice that makes Jungkook feel so, so woozy in desire, “you’re gonna go to the bedroom and make yourself pretty. You’re gonna wait for me on your knees and I’m gonna put Bam in his crate. Understood?” 

He nods his head.

“Understood?” you insist and grab a bundle of his hair to pull. 

“Yes ma’am”, he whimpers and closes his eyes, parting his lips. 

“That’s better”, you release his hair, “off you go. I want you kneeling once I’m done”, you order and step back. 

Jungkook takes your hands and bows down to kiss your knuckles.

“Yes ma’am”, he says and breaks away to hurry to the bedroom.

You watch him until he reached the top of the stairs. You sigh. He is so perfect when he’s so obedient. 

You look at Bam.

“Now let’s get you to bed, baby”, you say.

Jungkook feels restless. He keeps checking the time. His heart is racing. He can’t seem to regulate his breathing. He feels dizzy in anticipation. The time. Another minute passed. He shifts without leaving the position. He is in front of the foot end of the bed, facing the door. The rug under his knees makes it comfortable. The pressure around his cock gets more and more unbearable. The time. Another minute passed. 

Jungkook balls his hands to fists. When are you coming? It feels like you’ve been gone for hours. He can’t take it for long anymore. 

The door opens. He moans softly in pure relief. It’s time. The waiting will finally stop. His heart speeds up, his stomach tingles. He straightens up, fixing his posture this way. He needs to look perfect when you finally step inside.

You enter the room. Jungkook begins breathing quickly, feeling dazed. 

You meet his eyes for just a second before looking him up and down. He’s in his Calvins and nothing else. A black leather collar adorns his neck, looking so pretty on him. 

You walk past him to the sex toy dresser. Jungkook watches you in the tense silence, feeling more and more restless. You didn’t even address his state. Did you even notice that he was there? 

You open the drawer which holds your straps and bend down to look for the right one. You fetch it, holding it up by the base while your other hand is letting the harness tangle. 

Jungkook gulps, rubbing his thighs together. 

You look over your shoulder. Jungkook straightens up instantly. No words. You turn away and leave for the bathroom. The door closes. Jungkook is left alone. 

He makes fists again, pulling a face of desperation. He feels so unbearably needy now that he saw you. He can’t bear to be left alone again. He needs you with him so fucking bad. He checks the time. Not even a minute passed. Jungkook squeezes his thighs together. The pressure feels intense on his needy cock. If you don’t come back soon, he’ll actually manage to make himself hard. 

The time. A minute passed. 

Jungkook opens his hands. His fingers twitch. What if he rubs his cock over his briefs? He made sure to pick out gray coloured ones so you can see the wet stains he leaves. You’ll probably like it when you come back and he is already wet and hard in his briefs. 

He slides his hand closer, leaving goosebumps on his thigh because the touch feels so good. 

No. 

He’s going so crazy in desperation that he almost lost control. You never ordered him to play with himself. He shouldn’t disobey. 

The time. Another minute passed. 

He closes his hands to fists and exhales shakily. Please let time pass quicker.

The time again. Ten, eleven, twelve seconds passed. 

Fuck. It felt like a minute already.

Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two. 

Jungkook opens his hands again and feels up his thigh. Maybe he could do it for a few seconds. Just a little. Not a lot. He’ll stop himself before it gets too obvious. His fingertips brush over his tip.

“A-ah”, he lets out quietly, arching his back. Again. Upwards this time around. His cock twitches and hardens. Jungkook feels blurry. This feels so good. 

He opens his thighs for better access and cups his own cock. He whimpers, closing his eyes as he begins massaging and rubbing himself over his briefs. The material between his touch and his cock actually makes it feel so much better because it enables him to rub without friction. 

It feels so good. He witnesses every change in his cock. How it goes from soft and flaccid to hard and swollen. To feel himself get hard turns him on so much more. Jungkook can barely take breaths, sliding his hand to his tip to massage it through his briefs. He touches the most sensitive spots, arching his back because it feels so fucking good. 

He tilts his head back and moans the only thing running through his mind. 

Your name.

Breathy and filled with so much submission, it leaves his lips. 

He gets his briefs messy because hearing your name makes him leak. 

Fuck, how long are you still going to be gone?

He opens his eyes to check the time and squeaks as he startles. You are right in front of him, standing over him with a dark expression on your face. 

“You scared me”, he gets out and widens his eyes, “oh”, he lets out and moves his hand away quickly, straightening up. He gulps, looking up at you with sorry puppy eyes. 

“Did I tell you to play with yourself?” you ask him. 

“Sorry”, he whispers.

You touch him. Jungkook chases your touch even if it ends in you tugging on a bundle of his hair. 

“Did I tell you?” you repeat the question.

“No”, he whimpers, furrowing his brows in desperation.

“No, I didn’t. So why did you do it?”

“I was needy.”

“Wrong”, you warn and twist his hair tighter.

“Wanted to make myself pretty for you”, he squeaks out, shivering in pleasure. The tug hurts, sending electricity through his veins.

Your features soften. You smirk. Your fingers release his hair and begin scratching his tender scalp. 

“I can accept that”, you speak sweetly and look at his cock. Hard and throbbing it bulges his grey briefs. The light coloured fabric is tainted dark grey where his tip is. You run your foot over it. 

Jungkook moans and rolls his hips into the sensation. His thighs twitch and tense. His abs convulse as they move his hips needily.

“So wet”, you rasp and put pressure on his tip.

“O-oh”, he tenses up, closing his fingers around your calf. The pressure borders on painful and it’s getting him so breathless.

“And sensitive. Hm?”

He nods his head, wiggling his hips in hopes of getting his tip stimulated. 

“Good”, you say and remove your foot. 

Jungkook mewls. He wanted it so much longer. 

“Look at me.”

He obeys. The state of you finally begins seeping into his consciousness. He was so busy being startled and then disciplined to notice how fucking sexy you look. You took off your shirt, but kept your sports bra on. Your body looks so good after the gym. You always hold yourself with so much more confidence and Jungkook feels drowsy. 

You also kept your sweats on. Grey. They are bulging in the front. 

Jungkook gulps, gawking at it with big, needy eyes. 

“You see it?”

He mewls and nods his head.

“I’m so hard for you, puppy”, you rasp and cup your bulge to shake it around a little.

Jungkook moans, moving closer as his lips part. He is throbbing in his briefs. You are so fucking good in how you talk to him. He expected you to come out in nothing but your strap, but of course you are making the sexiest fucking roleplay out of it. He’s got you hard in your sweats. His mouth waters because of it.

“Do you want it?” 

“Yes please”, he croaks, gulping down the masses of drool gathering in his mouth.

“Take it out.”

Jungkook moves instantly. He tugs your sweats down until your strap can flop out. He lets go of the sweats so they bulge under your strap. He follows your cock with his eyes. You must have squeezed down on the pump because it’s leaking just a little from its hole.

Jungkook mewls, looking up at you with widened eyes. Your lips are curled into a knowing smirk, your eyes are half-lidded.

“Seems that I’m leaking for you, puppy.” 

“Holy fuck”, he gets out and looks back at your cock. Because it’s fake cum, it is already white and creamy, but Jungkook couldn’t care less about the inaccuracy. You are leaking for him and that’s all that fucking matters. 

“Please”, he begs and sticks his tongue out.

You grab your cock by its base, burying your hand in his hair. You tilt his head back. Jungkook helps you with it. He keeps staring at your cock even when you move closer and his eyes cross. To have him so cock-obsessed gets you off so good. He is so needy for your dick that he’s looking all silly for you. He’s so fucking perfect.

You spank his tongue with your cock. His tongue pulsates and shakes. A needy mewl leaves him. 

“Mhm, look at you. You look so pretty”, you praise, rewarding him with a spank to his tongue. Just once because then you pull back to instead slap his face with your cock. Once on his right cheek, then his left.

Jungkook rolls his eyes back with the first slap, parting his lips as he moans needily.

“You’re so, so cock needy, aren’t you?” you taunt as you slap his pretty face repeatedly.

“Yeah”, he keens.

“Of course you are. So needy and dumb for my cock”, you taunt and end your face slaps with little spanks on his upper lip. 

Jungkook moans, opening up further.

You knew that it would happen. You place your hand on the back of his head and push inside. 

“Mhmngn”, Jungkook gets out, ripping his eyes open in surprise. One second his mouth is empty and now he’s getting gagged with cock. He is struggling for air because of how utterly excited you’ve got him. He mewls, shivering vividly as your cock fills his needy mouth more and more.

“There we go. Take it in”, you rasp and furrow your brows, “fuck, you’re so fucking hot around me.”

Jungkook knows you can’t feel him and yet you are talking as if you can. If he didn’t need his face fucked before, he definitely needs it now. He whimpers, crossing his eyes as his brain shuts off in neediness.

Your tip tickles his throat. He gags instantly, mewling in nervousness. You pull out. His drool drips everywhere. Neither of you care.

“Good?” you make sure, rubbing your tip against his pouty lips. His lip piercings grind against it as well, moving around so prettily.

Jungkook opens his mouth and begs by sticking his tongue out. He mewls, widening his eyes at you.

“Of course you’re good. You’re such a needy cockslut”, you taunt and drag your tip over his tongue. It hits his lips. You push. 

He mewls and gurgles, struggling for just a second before his jaw shifts into the right position. You push deeper, twisting his hair at the back.

“That’s it. Take me”, you rasp, furrowing your brows. 

Jungkook’s eyelids flutter. His eyes fill with tears. He looks up at you as if you were his goddess. As if he exists solely for you.

“You’re a cockslut”, you taunt.

Jungkook’s devotion grows, he whimpers around your cock.

“But that’s okay. You’re my cockslut”, you add and begin moving your hips. 

Jungkook rolls his eyes back in the most sensual way you have ever seen. He doesn’t close them completely, letting you bask in his fucked out state while you fuck his pretty face. 

You purposefully don’t go all the way yet, fucking nothing more than the first two inches inside. You need him to get used to the sensation before you completely mess him up. 

“You’re so fucking pretty. Fuck.”

His lips stretch and move around your girth. It’s so fucking addicting to look at. His cheeks are flushed. He is panting through his nose, forcing his chest to heave up and down quickly. His almost closed eyes show the white of his eyes. They keep fluttering as he can’t seem to decide whether to open them more or close them completely. 

“There we go. You’re taking me so well”, you praise, scratching his scalp in reward. 

Jungkook whimpers and begins sucking.

“Yeah that’s it. Fuck”, you growl, messing him up even more. 

You noticed that he is sucking. Holy fuck he is so far gone. He closes his hand around the base of your cock and begins bopping his head on your cock. 

“Yes fuck. Suck my cock”, you moan deeply, sliding your hand from your cock to put it into the pocket of your sweats. 

So now you’ve got one hand on the back of his head while the other is relaxing in your pocket as your sweet husband is trying to win first prize for best blowjob of the year. 

He looks so obviously ruined. Body writhing and shaking, thighs trembling, cock twitching and face flushed. While you carry all the coolness in the world, looking down at him with dark eyes. The contrast is fucking biblical. You’ve got him ruined and working so, so hard while you carry his fucking existence in the palm of your hand. 

“You’re doing such a good job”, you encourage him, giving him a throaty moan, “fuck, your mouth’s driving me crazy.”

Jungkook whimpers, spilling tears. He needs you deeper. He needs to choke and gag. He swears that he can taste you (yep he is correct, you are squeezing down on the pump you hide in your pocket, giving him glimpses of what awaits him at the end of it). You taste so good. So sweet. Jungkook needs it coating his throat. He tilts his head back and tries to take you deeper. 

You are girthy, forcing him to gag instantly.

“Take it easy, puppy”, you order him while your fingers soothe through his hair. 

Jungkook gags and chokes, forcing your cock deeper. He convulses, his stomach keeps tensing as he is pushing past his limits.

“Easy puppy, easy”, you warn and yet Jungkook doesn’t listen. 

He is dumb for cock. He gags and gags and gags and yet he doesn’t stop. His tongue throbs and shakes under your cock, his throat aches because it’s difficult to gag so much. His drool is thick, leaking out of him and dripping down his chin. 

“Fuck, you’re crazy. Fuck puppy, that’s fucking amazing”, you growl, feeling your stomach tighten. Honest speaking, this is getting you off so well. You are so into this that you swear that you begin to feel the blowjob. You are so fucking hot between the legs. It grows and grows the deeper he forces your cock to go. 

Jungkook bottoms out. His nose is buried in your pubes, his body convulses uncontrollably as he gags around you. 

“Fuuuck holy fuck”, you moan, scrunching your nose, “you’re so tight. You- ah fuck mhmm.” 

Jungkook shakes. Too much. He’ll throw up. He moves off of you, showing his relief by gagging out a moan. Your cock flops out of him, dripping his spit and your cream. 

Jungkook lets the drool just escape him. It drips down and hits his chest. He opens his eyes, looking up at you with tears running down his cheeks. 

“You’re such a cockslut”, you rasp, “fuck, you almost made me cream your throat right now.”

Jungkook whimpers, writhing as he is trying to learn how to swallow again. He is drooling so much. If he doesn’t want to end up wetting his entire torso with it, he’ll have to relearn how to swallow. He should do it either way. He has to swallow your cum later as well.��

“That’s it. Take a deep breath”, you soothe him, “don’t let me wait for too long though.”

Jungkook mewls something you think is your name. He can’t speak right now. Not only because he is too dumb in pleasure, but also because you’ve ruined his throat. 

He needs more. He tasted heaven and he can’t get enough.

He takes you back inside, concentrating on your tip. He is sucking and mewling around you, sending electricity through your veins. 

“Yes puppy, fuck, keep going”, you moan, playing with his hair. You leak into him again, basking in the needy mewl he lets out followed by eager sucking, “yeah that’s it. Do I taste yummy? Mhm?” 

“Mhm-hm”, he whimpers, crying ecstatic tears. 

“Of course I do. Sluts like you are way too obsessed with creamy cock”, you taunt and grit your teeth, “fuck, you’re such a pretty cockslut”, you growl and close your fingers around his hair. You can’t take it anymore. You need to fuck his face again. 

You twist his hair and push. He gurgles, accepting his fate with fluttering eyelids and his hands gripping your hips. They manage to get a hold of the hem of your sweats and twist. You can feel how his hands are shaking. 

“Relax. Let me do it”, you order him as you fuck your cock deeper and deeper into his mouth, “go on, relax your jaw. Be my good puppy.”

Jungkook mewls and lets it happen. He feels far away. Lightheaded. Weightless. Drugged. There are no thoughts in his brain except the needy begs for your cock. He is utterly and completely yours. His entire existence lies at the very tip of your cock and you are currently giving him more life by fucking it against his tender uvula. 

You don’t go fast. You go slow. You drag your girth over his tongue. You stay at the back and let him gag and gurgle. You make him feel it. He should feel it. Every single inch, every fucking thrust, every second of it. 

Jungkook sobs around you, pulling you closer by your sweats. Once again you are proving to him that you are the best he ever had, has and will have. Jungkook sucked a few cocks in his long life as a bisexual and being a whore in his youth. And yet nobody. Fucking nobody, ruined him as hard as you do. Men are impatient. They get their cock sucked for quick relief. You are dragging it out. You are getting your cock sucked for the sole purpose of breaking him apart. You are fucking his face because you want it fucked. You bulge his throat because you want it reshaped just for your girth. You make him drool and gag and cry because it gets you off to see him so blissed out. 

Jungkook slips off your cock and sobs. 

“Good?” you make sure.

“I’m yours”, he croaks and begins licking the thick veins on your underside. He rubs his face against your cock as he does it, grabbing your balls with his left hand in hopes of squeezing out more of your cream. 

“Yeah you are. Mine. My cockslut.”

“I’m yours. Oh god, I’m yours”, he croaks and sobs. He drags his puffy lips up your cock, rubbing his nose along your veins so he gets all wet and sticky, needing more of it. He reaches your tip. It is covered in cream. Jungkook coughs out a mixture of a moan and a sob. You did what he needed you to do so bad. You are leaking just so he can rub his face in it and get all messy. He whimpers. He sobs. He fights for air. His tongue licks and trembles. His lips kiss and suck. His fingers squeeze and jerk you off. He is covered in your cream. White and sticky. He digs his tongue into your slit and tries to fuck more out of you. 

“So needy”, you rasp and reward him with droplets of your cream. 

He sobs your name, taking your cock back inside to suck out your white treasure. He needs every single droplet coating his mouth. He is yours and he needs to be marked as such. 

“Fuck baby, you’re so fucking sexy”, you moan, feeling your knees buckle. 

You messed him up. Strings of thick cream are covering his face. They stick to his cheeks, his lashes, drag themselves over his nose and stick to his chin. All the rubbing and nuzzling he did messed up his face in the sexiest way imaginable. And now you’ve got his creamed, puffy lips moving around your cock as he is fucking his mouth. 

You tense up, feeling your knees buckling.

“You’re gonna make me cum”, you growl through gritted teeth, meaning it honestly. You’re this close to creaming his throat. 

You twist his hair, broadening your stance.

“I’m gonna fucking cream your throat, puppy”, you moan, eliciting the neediest mewls from him.

He grips you by your ass and pushes your hips into him. You bottom out. Your ecstatic moan overshadows the overwhelmed gags he lets out.

“Fuck. You fucking whore”, you spit and grab his head with both hands. The pump is between your fingers just as his hair is. You twist hard and use the leverage to both push him down onto your cock and keep him still for your angry thrusts. 

Jungkook mewls. Jungkook gags. Jungkook gurgles and convulses as you rough fuck his face to an orgasm. He is crying. He is drooling. He can’t breathe. His throat aches. He can’t take much more all while he is pulling you closer. 

“Get fucking ready. Imma cream your throat so fucking hard”, you growl and fuck his face faster.

Jungkook tugs down your sweats. He is fighting the blurriness. All that helps is tugging and pulling. Your sweats slip down to your knees and drop to your ankles. He gags out a sob, searching for more to grab. He leaves burning scratch marks on the back of your thighs and ass until his fingers finally grab your harness. He twists his finger deep into the straps until his fingers lose feeling from blood loss. And then, only then the face fuck is bearable. Holy fuck, he was so close to completely losing all humanity. He tries to meet your movements, but ends up convulsing in yet another helpless gag.

“Now baby. Fucking now”, you growl and moan. 

Jungkook feels ecstatic. You only moan like this when you cum. Are you actually? He can’t finish his thought because of your creamy cum suddenly shooting down his throat.

He squeezes his eyes shut, mewling desperately as you fill him up with your cum. You keep his head down, moving your hips so your cock is throbbing deep in his throat. 

Holy fuck, he can’t breathe. He is choking on cock and cum. 

“That’s it. Fuuuuck take my cum”, you growl, twitching and shaking as an orgasm controls you. He’s actually got you climaxing. The fucking feeling is biblical. You throw your head back, moaning his name because nothing else wants to leave you. 

And as you cream his throat and float on ecstasy, Jungkook is crying around your cock, tugging at your straps because he doesn’t have many more gags left.  

Your knees buckle. He tugs you off. Your cum seeps out of him without control, he is wheezing for air. 

“Holy fuck”, you croak and fall to your knees before him. 

You cup his face, he twists your sports bra. His throat is so sore. His eyes are burning from crying so hard. 

“Jungkook. Holy. Fuck”, you get out and pull him into a kiss. All you taste is your cum. It fills your mouth and runs down your tongue. You kiss him deeper, sharing the creamy mess with him as both of you moan and lick for more. 

This fucked both of you up. You barely feel human. Your orgasm ruined you. Jungkook is barely a person at this point. He exists for you. You could do anything to him and he would take it with tears of worship. 

“You good boy”, you praise breathlessly, tugging his cock out of his briefs. You kiss him. He is almost cleaned of your cum. Soon you’ll have his taste. You and he are moaning more than you kiss. It’s so overwhelming to be with each other. 

You’re on his lap. You sink down. Jungkook breaks the kiss to scream your name. He shakes and writhes, trying to make sense of what is happening to him with restless shakes of his head. 

“Eyes on me. Eyes right here. Here”, you order him and hold him still with a hand around his throat. His eyes meet yours. He is crying, your cream is still covering his face messily. 

“There we go. Eyes on me. Good boy”, you praise, “you took my cock so well, so this is your reward”, you tell him and begin bouncing on his cock. Your own cock is rubbing against his stomach, smearing remnants of your cum all over his skin. 

Jungkook wraps his arms around you and hides away in the crook of your neck.

“I’m cumming”, he sobs and buries his teeth in your skin.

“Ah geez”, you gasp, feeling burning pain from where he bites you and burning heat as he fills your hole with his cum. You pull him closer, tensing up in paradisiacal pleasure, “that’s it. Give me everything. Jungkook. Ah Jungkook.”

Jungkook didn’t know how bad he needed to cum inside until it happened. He didn’t even know how needy for his high he was until one bounce on his cock was enough to break him. He needed it so bad. This is what was missing to show him true heaven. 

He thanks you for making life worthwhile with aggressive throbs of his cock and his nails leaving scratch marks down your sides. Shit, it’s crazy how you’ll carry scratch and bite marks from tonight even if you were the one in fucking control. But then. It’s an honour. Because every mark, every scratch, every tender spot means that you’ve fucked Jungkook hard enough that he lost control. Those marks? They’re medals of honor and proof that you can play his body like no one else can. 

Jungkook whimpers your name, flinching and shivering as his orgasm stopped and he is left with the aftershock. 

You still your hips because you know him well enough to know the meaning of his twitches. He genuinely can’t take more.

“Good job. You did so well”, you praise him, scratch his scalp gently, “good job baby, good job.”

“Oh god”, he croaks and then sobs into your neck.

“I know baby, I know. Let it all out. You’re my good boy. Such a good boy”, you praise him, holding him safely as he comes down in sobs. Yet another proof how hard you ruined him. 

“I love you”, he cries.

“I love you too, baby. So much”, you whisper and kiss his neck gently, “my Kookie. Yeah, you’re my Kookie.” 

“Oh god”, he croaks, shuddering. 

You hug and sway, you give him little kisses while he gets lost in your scent. You hold each other and heal that way. You share warmth and the sticky state of your skins and it’s the sweetest reminder that no matter how hard you fuck, you’ll always be able to return to comfort afterwards. 

You can really do anything because what follows will always be safety. 

Jungkook lifts his head. You cradle his cheeks, giving him a loving smile as your thumbs wipe the tears from his cheeks. 

“What are you doing to me?” he croaks. 

Your smile grows. 

“That good?”

“You literally fucking own me. Holy fuck”, he says and clears his throat, “I’m sore.”

You chuckle, “yeah, I’m not surprised. I fucked you hard.” 

He grins goofily, leaning into your palm. He closes his eyes.

“I know. Thank you”, he whispers and caresses your inner wrist, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Kookie baby.” 

He giggles and nuzzles his nose into your hand. Then he lifts his head again, gazing up at you.

“Did you like it?” he asks excitedly.

“I loved it. I came so hard.”

“Did you actually?”

“Yeah. It felt so real.”

“Wow”, he exhales shakily. His pupils widen because he is so fucking attracted to you. 

“Did you like it baby?” you ask him.

“Yeah”, he whispers and whimpers, furrowing his brows, “it was so much better than in my fantasy.”

“That’s good to hear”, you scrunch your nose happily, “so I guess we’ll do it again one day?” 

“Yes please. I’d like that so much.” 

“Then it’s decided”, you snicker and kiss his messy nose, “now what do you say to a shower? ‘Cause you are so dirty everywhere”, you suggest as you litter his face with kisses.

“Yeah please”, he sighs, enjoying your love with closed eyes, “snuggles afterwards?” 

“Mhm snuggles and head pats. Also warm tea for your throat, don’t let me forget”, you say, making him giggle. 

“Okay.” 

You and he will clean each other. You will hug and cuddle. Jungkook will kiss the marks he left while you will make him tea he can enjoy as you snuggle him in bed. Truly, life is great when you and he are together.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

How about #2 with Thor,Arthur, or Deadpool? 🙃💛

.⋆｡Put Some Clothes On You Slut ｡⋆.

Arthur Curry x plus size reader

Arthur loves to tease you when you have things to do but you can give it as good as you get

Warnings: nudity, teasing, fluff, implied smut, reader calls Arthur a slut (like we all know he is)

WC: 1.1k

Minors DNI

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

3000 Follower Celebration

“Ok so we have dinner with your parents tonight but we’re in charge of drinks and dessert so I was thinking that you could run into town to get a nice bottle of wine while I made a pie. And then oh yummy just so- Arthur!” You looked up from where you had been folding the long overdue laundry only to see your fiancé wander into the bedroom dressed only in a towel that did nothing to hide the way his ‘gift’ swung as he moved. Your thoughts quickly trailed off to a place you had no time to go before you caught yourself.

“What?” He asked but the smirk on his stupid face gave him away. You angrily pointed at him.

“No. This is not happening.” 

Arthur dramatically put his hand on his bare chest like he was offended. “What’s not happening? Dinner? That’s disappointing, I was looking forward to it.” You glared at him.

“Fine, if that’s how we’re playing it.” You sucked your teeth and turned back to the laundry, folding the last remaining shirt and then moving over to the closet. Arthur’s light footfalls followed you, keeping just enough distance to keep you interested. “Tomorrow, I’m meeting up with Lois, and Clark but I really think he just invited himself. He’s got some serious fomo.”

Your fiancé reached around you and plucked up a pair of underwear from his pile as you were putting everything away. You fought the urge to look back at him, knowing that if you did, you would just be giving him what he wanted. You cleared your throat and kept talking. “So you’re welcome to come along if you want, I doubt Clark will want to listen to me and his wife having girl talk.”

There came a muffled thud from behind you, and out of the corner of your eye, you caught sight of his white towel now a heap on the floor. You could vaguely see his naked legs out of your peripheral vision, you were tempted, dear god were you tempted to just look up a couple more inches. Your grip on the now empty laundry basket got tighter. “And um, your mom wanted to go wedding dress shopping this weekend but- fuck.” 

You made the mistake of turning around once you believed it was safe but instead you were met with the glorious view of Arthur’s mostly naked tattooed body, wearing only the tightest, smallest boxers you had ever seen. That bastard knew you were close to breaking.

“Out!” He actually jumped at your outburst. “Go on get! We absolutely cannot be late tonight and I cannot show up to your parents’ house smelling like sex. So go get a bottle of wine, a nice one, and leave me alone until we have to go.” Looking like a kicked puppy, Arthur whined and left the room, shooting you a sad look over his shoulder.

You huffed. “And put on some clothes you slut!”

Arthur had homework, and as pathetic as that sounded, it was resoundingly true. In order to get the Atlantean king more involved in Justice League business, Bruce had given him a stack of files on various villains to read through. Begrudgingly, Arthur had complied, of course with a little motivation from you but Batman didn’t need to know that.

So once a week, he would hole himself up in your little office at the back of the house and study. As soon as the door shut behind him, you set your plan into motion.

Making sure the shower was extra hot, you stepped into the stream of water. You stayed in just long enough to quickly scrub your body in your extra fancy body wash and to make sure you were completely soaked. You grabbed the smallest towel you could find (coincidentally it was the same one Arthur used only three days ago) and wrapped it around yourself as best you could while not completely drying off. Most of your naked body was still visible though, including your entire right side, but it covered just enough that Arthur wouldn’t be suspicious.

The grumbling coming from behind the office door told you all you needed to know. You smothered the smirk on your face behind a concerned expression and quietly entered. His huge figure was hunched over your desk, a large pile of paper in front of him, his unruly hair tied up messily out of his face, exposing the way his nose scrunched in confusion.

“How’s your work going Art?” His shoulders visibly relaxed at the sound of your voice. 

“It’s going,” he responded with a grumble, turning in his seat to face you but froze quickly, “Queenie, what are you wearing?” Playing dumb, you looked down at your scantily covered body, still wet and warm from the shower, then back up to your fiancé.

“Oh I just took a shower, is that a problem?” He furiously shook his head.

“Nope, nada. You take allllll the showers you want lovey.” He looked at you and it seemed like he was about to get up from the desk to attack you but the files caught his eye once more and he deflated. You grinned victoriously. “Except maybe not today,” Arthur winced, “I have a lot of stuff I have to get done.”

“How would me being all wet and steamy be a problem for you my king?” Your voice took on a sultry tone, one you only used in the bedroom and it had an immediate effect on him. His eyes instantly went dark with lust and his fingers curled into a fist.

With a herculean effort, Arthur forced himself to turn away from you and focus back on his work. “This has to get done so can you put on some clothes? I can’t concentrate.” 

“Oh baby, I’m so sorry. Let me get out of your way, I know how important all this is and how you can’t be distracted.” You purred as you walked back to the door, making sure your hips swayed sensually, just the way he liked. “Come find me when you’re done.” And then you dropped the towel.

There was a beat of silence and then.

“Fuck this.” Huge hands were suddenly wrapped around your thick waist and you were spun around, coming face-to-face with the man you had promised to spend your life with. “You are an evil evil woman.” He snarled.

“And yet, I got the King of Atlantis to crack.” You smugly responded.

“Then let me show you what riling up a king gets you.” And Arthur learned that day that you gave as good as you got.

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[poppurini]

holding his hand

incl. malleus & f!reader┊reader wears a dress

note. not proofread i word vomit

malleus was deprived of physical touch ever since birth. aside from his grandmother and the country’s trusted general, people and animals alike have avoided him like plague if possible. servants back at the castle bowed their heads and retreated quickly whenever they spotted him, birds have fled and the animals have left their precious dinner behind when malleus stepped into their vicinity.

the man understands since childhood that it was due to his position and the power he possessed, but he would never harm them. he was certain he would never abuse his power and harm innocent creatures, he was not a monster. well, he was a little upset with the way he’s being treated but it never really occupied much of his mind, really. he had stopped gazing out windows, standing on his tippy toes when he was a mere toddler to watch the town children running around and play-fighting with each other. it had stopped bothering him, he had grown accustomed to it. only until this very moment where he’s sat beside you, that is.

to others, it may have been a little embarrassing. the future king of briar valley had fallen quick and deep for this child of man he had coincidentally met during one of his strolls in the forest. it was cliché, really. but how could he not be intrigued by someone who did not flee at the sight of him? instead you held an endearing curiosity in your eyes, clearly alarmed by the stranger but still, you did not flee.

his feet brought him back to the very same spot the next day, hoping to encounter you again and, well, maybe make a friend? he never had a friend. he should take the initiative. malleus preferred you come out from hiding first, though. surely you’re aware of him noticing your presence? he had chuckled a little, this human was poor at being discreet.

and before malleus knew it, his heart yearned for you. not a second goes by where his mind was not occupied by the intriguing girl he had met that fateful day. the young fae finished his lessons quickly and stepped out, he’d hate to be late and make you wait.

malleus hope he wasn’t being too obvious about it but oh, what is this feeling, anyway? he does not know, but he likes it. he likes the way you make him feel, it was such a pleasant feeling he find himself smiling at the mere thought of you.

there is one thing troubling him, however. he wishes to hold you oh so desperately. the distance between you two had closed gradually the more you see each other but he still could not find the courage in him to just initiate touch. yes, the mighty fae was shy. how embarrassing, truly.

he had a hunch you reciprocated his feelings, malleus had seen the bashful look on your face when he draped his coat over your lap. it was windy that day, you looked a little cold to the man and your pretty dress did not cover all of you, he find the way you stuttered thanks adorable.

it was a gesture that occurred to him naturally, he hadn’t thought much about it. but holding hands? oh, how scandalous.

he had given much thought about how he should execute it. i mean, he could really just ask outright. may i hold your hand? that wasn’t hard, but it would be extremely sudden and maybe a little awkward, he admit. or he could sneak his way in? you are sitting very close to each other, after all. if anything the slight graze of your skin against his was driving him to the edge. if only there was something that—

“I pricked my finger today, did you know that some flowers have thorns on them? So scary!” a small laugh escaped you while recalling the little accident you had today, too distracted by its beauty. there was definitely still much to learn for you.

you showed him the small injury, the blood had stopped but it still stings, you told him. malleus’ gaze softened as he gently held your hand. “You should’ve been more careful, child of man.” concern laced his voice as he casted magic, healing your little injury. “Does it still hurt?”

the look you had made him smile. it was but a simple spell, the most basic one, and yet it got you so astonished. there were many surprises to you that he could not wait to unravel them all.

it wasn’t long until malleus stiffened, his heart racing in its cage, threatening to burst. he was holding your hand in his, and you did not pull away. even after the little treatment was done.

he cleared his throat and prepared to pull away, an apology already at the tip of his tongue but you held on. you took his hand in yours and even sat closer to the man with a quiet giggle, almost leaning against him.

“Thanks, Malmal.”

you continued on about the adventures you had today while mindlessly playing with his slender fingers, and it didn’t take malleus long to intertwine them with yours as he hummed in response to your stories.

[pxrxcxa]

Born B*tch

Paring | Dom Eddie x Sub female reader

Series Summary | Eddie’s a cocky outcast with soft heart and a dominant side, a perfect mixture for the cold hearted ice queen to fuck out her frustrations with.

What to expect | No use of y/n, Porn with some plot (kinda), Slight enemies to lovers, Mean reader, Cocky Eddie, Dom Eddie, Sub reader, Eddie playing the hero, fucking out frustrations

Post warnings | Fem oral, M oral, Consent kink, Belt usage, Spitting, Slapping, Voyerism, Choking, Face fucking, Begging, Cream pie, Unprotected S, After care, bullying, drug use, swearing

Word count | 4.4 k

Authors Note | *play slim shady*, yes I am back, I was never truly gone. Shoutout to those that read this, if you’ve been a follower of mine, just know I appreciate you and I’m back for you. Ghosting reason here 💗🫠

(yes the monster dog is is Dart - enjoy the Easter egg)

Any & All comments/reblogs are most appreciated - Love, P. x 🌿

_____________________________________

“Did you fucking see that?”

As I rounded the bleachers, the smell had tipped me off to the presence of Hawkins High oldest student before his grunt of shock and swearing had. My hand shot up to cover my nose from the swirling clouds puffing from the corner of his mouth, the fabric of my shirt pressed against my lips as I followed his line of sight.

I blinked through the new onslaught of tears brought on from the stinging haze of the weed, mixed with the stained ones against my cheeks, at the distant figures darting through the trees that outlined the edge of the school field.

“It’s just some middle schoolers messing around.” I coughed, quickly wiping at the corner of my eyes as I watched the dark hair of Nancy Wheelers brother, disappear after his friends.

“No I swear it was some sort of monster dog… whatever.” Eddie Munson shook his head and snapped his jaw shut as he listened to how crazy his own words sounded, dropping his joint to the soft ground beneath him as he squished the red hot cherry to ash with his shoe.

“I see you’re working hard to pass your second attempt at senior year.” My tone was surprisingly icy, even for me. Eddie pushed himself away from under the bleachers, striding out into the full sunlight until his dizzying height was towering over me, his face full of contempt. I’d turned away as he’d closed the distance between us, but I caught his glimpse of surprise as he noticed the splotches on my cheeks.

“I didn’t think my attendance record was any of the ice queens business.” His voice drawled off as I snapped my neck back to face him, expecting him to lower his gaze.

Eddie stared me back down unflinchingly, and suddenly I was filled with embarrassment that he didn’t shy away and my tears were on full display. Not that I’d asked for the reputation of being a cold hearted bitch, but I had grown accustomed to it after being branded with the title in my freshman year.

I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had looked me in the eyes and not flinched or looked away eventually, and here he was with a smirk playing around on the corner of his lips while I tried and failed to hold back tears.

“Piss off Munson.” I spat, twisting away from him as I wrapped my arms around my chest. I’d never had an actual conversation with the outcast metal head before, everyone else seemed to think he was dangerous. No good. Bad news.

It made me realise how shallow and single track minded everyone in this town really was. Did they really think that this soft haired, wide brown-eyed boy who collected bullied freshman to protect them, was some kind of devil worshiper who would sacrifice them if they even dared to look his way?

If I hadn’t of been so consumed with my anger towards Steve Harrington, I would have been surprised at how much attention I apparently paid Eddie, that I’d somehow seen past the drug usage and cut off vest to the kind soul beneath it, considering my acknowledgment of his existence never extended past coincidental looks in class.

“Only if you tell me who pissed you off first…” Eddie dug around in his jacket pocket until he pulled a cigarette from the depth of it, keeping his eyes on mine and taking longer than necessary to light it as I contemplated his question.

I traced the outline of his frame as he bent his head low to the flame, taking a deep breath as I tried to even my voice. Eddie shook his hand that gripped the lighter as I fought back the foreign urge to tell everything to him, narrowing my eyes at him like it was his fault I was strangely comfortable around him.

I couldn’t see how telling him would be a bad thing, he loathed Steve and his idiot friends even more than I did, and I was sure the whole school would hear about it by lunch, Eddie included.

“… Steve the hair Harrington asked me on a date, when I told him ‘no’, that asshole Tommy has made it a fact that I gave them both blowjobs behind the boys toilet before school this morning.” I paused to let it sink in, admiring the way Eddie barely flinched.

“At the same time.” His couldn’t contain his reaction this time, his eyes widening as he coughed on his cigarette smoke and pounded his chest.

“Even took it upon himself to spray paint it on the sign so everyone could see it when they walked in.” My nails bit deep enough into my palms until I wrenched them open with a gasp of pain, suddenly regretting my decision to say something, almost like I didn’t want to disappoint Eddie.

“… And did you?” His voice was filled with curiosity and his eyes watched me with judgment before his hands flashed up to his chest, backing away from me like I was a dangerous animal.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Of course not.” I scoffed, pissed at myself for thinking he’d have more sense than the rest of the sheep at our high school.

“You’re a virgin?” He grinned, attempting to ease the tension as I blushed without permission.

“I’m not a whore, but I’m definitely not a virgin.” I grunted through my teeth. Eddie’s smile widened impossibly further at my admission, nodding to himself.

“You seem frustrated, wanna roll up and relax a bit?” I waited for the disgust to flare up since I’d never touched weed before or had any interest to do so, but my snappy retort died on my tongue as the sunlight glinted off the chain around his wrist, catching my attention to how strong and deft his fingers looked as a whole body shiver rolled over me. I swallowed hard as unwarranted thoughts of how I could get my frustrations out, ran rampant in my mind.

“I’ve just never seen you show any emotion before.” He shrugged, taking my silence as a no. Eddie breathed in a long draw of his smoke as I rounded on him, shaking my head free of thoughts I’d never expected to associate with Eddie Munson, but I shoved whatever feelings were fluttering between my legs to deal with later. If what he’d said had come from anyone else, I wouldn’t have even thought twice about it being a dig at me. But his voice was genuine and his carefully guarded face hinted at concern for me.

But fact that we’d both been slammed with unearned reputations, didn’t save Eddie from my false one. I only faltered on my surprise that Eddie had seemed to pay just as much attention to me as I had to him, before my harsh words broke the space.

“Not all of us have smoked away all of our brain cells to the point we had to repeat senior year Munson, some of us are still smart enough to have an emotional range.” His wall went up faster than mine ever could, a glare of loathing sliding into place on his handsome features.

“Yeah, and not all of us were born bitches.”

I could feel his eyes on my back the entire time it took me to cross the field back towards the orange bricked school building, hating my reputation - and the way I undoubtedly deserved it - for the first time ever.

___________________________________

The feeling of a hundred pairs of eyes on me had never bothered me before, whatever whispers and rumours spread behind my back, rarely made it to my ears. But my anger had been poked and prodded by everyone and every interaction today, so by the time that Tommy. H, Steve and his normal crew walked past me at my open locker at the end of the day, whispering Whore loud enough to be heard by everyone at either ends of the corridor, I snapped.

I slammed my locker hard enough to break it off its hinges, twisting around to face them with my lash of words burning on the tip of my tongue. It slipped into loud laughter as Tommy tripped backwards over Eddie’s outstretched ankle, crying out in pain as Eddie reached down to yank him to his feet.

“Sorry about that dude, didn’t see you.” Eddie’s teeth flashed brilliantly under the fluorescent hallways lights, but his eyes were cold as he brushed non-existent dirt roughly off Tommy’s shoulders. Steve tugged his ass of a friend away from his grip as they half jogged down the hallway, muttering the exhausted insult of ‘freak’. I didn’t blame them, considering Eddie had had to lean away from his locker and extend his leg halfway across the hall to trip him over.

His amused smile followed them until he turned back and caught my questioning eye, nodding at me like I owed him some kind of thank you.

I pressed my lips together and returned the slightest nod, it was as much appreciation I could offer, considering they had forgotten about me and their bullying in their rush to escape Eddie. I’d dropped my gaze from his, but I heard him slam his locker shut a little too forcefully, flooding shame through me that he’d stood up for my honour in his own way and I’d brushed it off like it was nothing.

My skin prickled as he stormed past me, close enough that the tail end of his jacket brushed the bare skin of my legs, by the time I’d swallowed my own pride and emptied my books out of my arms, I looked up just in time to catch the glimpse of the handkerchief in his back pocket disappearing around the corner of the back exit.

I didn’t think it through before I let my legs carry me after him, my panties dampening in success as my body’s urges outweighed my logical side. I swore under my breath as I caught the door swinging back, slipping through it as I peered after him striding back towards the bleachers.

His long legs strode across the entire length of the field in seconds as I sped up to catch him, waving away the clouds of smoke that drifted behind him and clung to my clothes.

“What are you doing here?” Eddie rounded on me like he knew I’d followed him, no sign of surprise anywhere on his face as I rocked back on my heels, fidgeting with the waist band of my shorts.

“You offered to smoke with me right?” I glanced over my shoulder to see that the car park was thankfully quickly dwindling of lingering students.

“Sure.” Eddie’s voice was thick with contempt, and low as his eyes followed the curve of my legs. “But I’m not giving you what you actually came for if you smoke that.”

My stomach flipped and then dropped, the slightly false confidence slipping. I hadn’t perfected the art of seduction, but I hadn’t counted on Eddie’s unfaltering confidence either, I barely knew why I thought fucking out my frustrations with the school freak was going to be anything but a bad idea, so I couldn’t see how he’d know it’s what I’d followed him for.

I swallowed the nervous lump in my throat as Eddie narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side, waiting to see if I’d push through.

“Why not?” I cringed at how small my voice sounded, submissive.

“Because consent is important to me. Especially with the kind stuff you’re into.” He let me escape from his gaze and he flicked the butt of his cigarette away, pausing for a moment to give me one last chance to back out.

“You have no idea what I’m into.” I took a small step forward towards him as a glimpse of the real me broke through for a moment, shielding us further from any prying eyes as I slipped into the shadows of the bleachers. It was all Eddie seemed to need, he moved faster than I did to close the gap between us, his ring clad hand encircling around my throat like he’d done it a hundred times before.

“I can tell exactly what you want.” His fingers tensed around my skin threateningly, sending a tingle to spread across it like fire, the corners of his mouth pulled up at my reaction. I could practically hear his ego inflating as I leaned into his hold.

“Do you want this?” His grip loosened ever so slightly and he stroked the underside of my jaw, his brown eyes prying into mine for the slightest sign of hesitation.

I nodded, hearing the last of the back firing engines roll out of the car park. My knees began to shake from anticipation, wanting nothing more than to lean forward and press my lips against his plump ones, only just now noticing how perfect they were. My gaze moved across the rest of his features, narrowing my eyes at how well they fit together.

Eddie really was handsome, him being an outcast had to be by his choice, because if it wasn’t for the whole satanic rumours and mid lunch outbursts, I was sure he’d have his pick of girls.

I scowled at the thought.

“Say it out loud.” Eddie’s fingers dug into my throat until I struggled to breathe, choking on my words.

“They’re already spreading stories that I’m a whore. I want to give them something to tell.”

Butterflies swirled in my stomach at the look on his face, moving down between my thighs as the truth rung in my words. Eddie’s free hand weaved through my hair as he trapped me against him, his rough clothes rustling against my body as he walked me backwards, slamming me against the cold metal of the bleachers.

He tasted of tobacco and weed, and a hint of mint toothpaste as he forced my mouth open with his, breathing me in deeply as my hands felt around me blindly for something to hold onto. I gripped the exposed bars that held up the seats above our heads, Eddie’s groan drowned out mine as he gripped the back of my neck, allowing him more access into my mouth as he pressed every hard line of his body against mine.

With each inch his hands closed around my neck, the more he took control, smiling against my face as he felt me give myself over to him.

“I bet you’re fucking soaking, show me how wet you are.” I shuddered against Eddie’s touch as his fingers swiftly moved from the side of my neck, pressing down my skin as he cupped the sides of my breasts, he paused there as he pinched at both nipples until they were embarrassingly hard under my shirt.

Eddie bit down on my lip and pulled back with a smirk as I trembled and whimpered, arching my hips up against his hand as he traced his fingertips along my waistband, teasing me as he watched me beg for him.

Eddie angled his legs against mine as he allowed me to grind down on his cock, as hard as I’d ever seen any boy and dripping with enough pre cum it had stained through his jeans. I moaned at the pleasure the feeling of my clit pressed again him shot through me.

At the slightest friction between our bodies, I could feel the wetness between my thighs double, but it wasn’t enough.

“Please Ed-“ He cocked his head closer to my face as he left light bites under my ear.

“Please what?” I could hear the grin in his voice, thick with need but he had his in control, I had become completely undone. I couldn’t even the remember the reason I’d followed him out here. Only the feeling of his body on mine and how it wasn’t enough.

“Please touch me.” I gasped, shivering like I was in pain. His hollow laugh was lost in my moan of ecstasy as his firm fingertips dipped beneath my shorts, finding my clit with ease as I rocked my pussy against his hand. Eddie let me ride his fingers until I was gasping his name, feeling them slip between my folds as I dripped onto them.

“Fuck” Eddie’s groan was almost animalistic as he ripped his fingers from me and dropped to his knees, pinning my hips against the sharp poles behind me with his arm as he tugged my shorts and panties to the side. I barely hard time to knot my hands in his hair and melt against his tongue before he was hovering back over me, leaving me shaking after just a few wild licks against my dripping folds.

Eddie gripped my cheeks hard enough to make me cry out as he tilted my head back.

“You need to know how good you taste.”

I opened my mouth as he angled his with mine, spreading my tongue flat as Eddie spat the mixture of his saliva and my arousal onto it, he devoured my groan as he forced his tongue into me, swirling it around as my eyes rolled into the back of my head.

My clit was throbbing with need as he planted kisses down along my neck and across my collar bone, exploring every inch of my skin like it was a map he was trying to memorise.

“Turn around.” It wasn’t a question, his long fingers gripped the tops of my arms until they overlapped as he flipped my body and shoved me forward until I was leaning over a support beam, dropping his hold to my hands as he wrenched them together at the small of my back.

I whimpered at the pain, but not enough for him to stop as he pressed his hard boner against my ass. I bit my lip as I struggled to look over my shoulder at him, melting at the raw and passionate look that had completely taken over his soft face. The clink of metal sounded in the afternoon air as Eddie loosened his belt, tugging it through his pant loops before wrapping it around my wrists.

Eddie’s hand tugged at the base of my hair, forcing me to look through the gaps of the bleachers as he pointed out the blazing sun that shone against my flushed face.

“It’s gonna be a pretty sunset. But not as pretty as you.” I felt my walls flutter at the unexpected compliment, bending my knees so that my ass pushed even further back into him.

A silent beg for him.

The muted sound of his zipper coming undone made my goosebumps crawl across my skin, it felt like an eternity before he pinched both my shorts and pantries to the side again and I felt him nudge his length against my entrance. The first inch slipped in with ease, coated in my wetness as I gasped out in surprise.

“Fuck me, you feel good.” My moan echoed across the empty field at his praise, wiggling back onto his length. Eddie laughed as he pulled back, a stinging pain landing across my back as his palm slapped against my ass.

“You like this big cock?” He voice faltered as his slid further into me, loosing his composure to his own desires. But feeling and hearing him come undone above me, drove me wild.

“I uh - Eddie - please.” I lost all coherent thoughts as nothing but Eddie’s dick and his fingers that found their way back to my clit, took over.

He found my soft spot easily, before even using his whole length. Tears sprung to my eyes as Eddie’s moans grew deeper and faster, matching his thrusts as he kept up a pace that had my legs shaking. I stopped breathing as Eddie’s cock fucked me so hard that black spots danced across my vision.

I didn’t know where my body began and his ended as he slid as far as he could inside of me. The sounds of pleasure from each others body morphed into a melody that I was sure could be heard throughout the whole school, fuck, the town even.

“You are so fucking sexy.” Eddie ripped himself from me without warning, using my hands trapped under his belt to pull me up right and then down onto the hard concrete beneath us. Eddie allowed me a second to meet his eyes, waiting for me to open my mouth slightly before his shoved his cock down my throat, his entire length dripping in my arousal until I was choking on it, crying from the lack of air as he fucked my face.

The sounds from where our bodies were connected was enough to make even a girl like me blush, within seconds my jaw was aching and the tip of his cock brushed my back teeth. Eddie hissed as he pulled back, letting me breath as he wiped the fallen tears with his rough finger. As I gasped for breath, Eddie’s eyes flashed between mine and I gave him the slightest nod as he lined his fingers up.

Eddie pulled them a few inches away from my cheek before bringing them across my face, hard enough to sting, not enough to leave a mark.

“Take this cock like a good girl.” Whatever makeup that had survived so far, was now smeared across my chin and running down my face as Eddie forced himself back down my throat, throwing his head back as his loose curls swirled around his head from the cold breeze.

“I bet everyone’s wished they could fuck this mouth, especially with the shit you say.” My lips tightened around his pulsing cock at his words, earning a deep moan from him.

I groaned for some sort of release as I ground against nothing, blinking up at him through my lashes until he leaned down to unhook my hands. I pulled back to breathe as my aching fingers darted between my thighs, sighing in pleasure as I found my clit. Eddie gripped my cheek as he told me how pretty I looked on my knees, rubbing my skin beneath his thumb as he guided my mouth back to his cock. It was harder than it was before, red and aching for me as it glistened in the setting sun.

My free hand cupped his full balls as I felt him go impossibly harder in my mouth, twitching against the back of my throat as my own fingers hurtled me towards the edge.

My fingers circled around my clit until my knees were shaking, blubbering around his cock as I felt and heard him get closer. Air rushed beneath me as Eddie tugged me to my feet, gripping me by the backs of my thighs as he wrapped my legs back around him and slid deeper inside of me, using the cold metal bars behind us to keep me upright.

I cried out from the loss of pleasure until his hand smacked mine out of the way and rubbed between my folds faster than I could have, keeping a matching pace with his cock as he buried his face into the crook of my neck.

I was too far gone to care about any damage to his jacket I might have been inflicting, gripping on tightly to his shoulders as I came. I came harder than I had before with any other guy, falling to pieces in Eddie’s arms as he pulled himself just far enough that the tip of his cock sat between my folds, drenching me in his orgasm and his moans of my name almost deafened.

The sweet tinkle of late evening birds drifted between us as my gasping breaths slowly evened out, the reality of what just passed between us crashing down on us the further the ecstasy washed away. Eddie softly disentangled himself from me, gripping onto my knees to keep me steady as I shook.

I was barely aware of him as he pulled a skull patterned handkerchief from his back pocket and pawed softly between my thighs, cleaning me up as his face filled with concentration.

I kept my hands on his shoulders, loosening my grip since I could see indents from my nails, as I watched his tongue sit between his lips. I was revelling in the blissful aftermath as I felt embarrassment and vulnerability creeping at the edge.

“Are you okay.” His voice was gentle but it still caught me entirely off guard, he kept his eyes off of mine like he was allowing a private moment to myself.

Eddie intertwined his fingers through mine as he helped me down, subtly tucking the handkerchief back into his pocket.

I was still shivering, but for a reason I wasn’t able to admit even to myself as his eyes trapped mine and he cupped the side of my face.

“Do you need anything.” Eddie pressed his lips to mine as they begun to tremble, holding me softly but tightly to his chest, he pulled back but kept his hold around me as he felt me relax in his arms, my heartbeat slowing to a normal pace.

“You’re so beautiful.” He kissed into the top of my hair, ignoring my limp arms at my side as I seized up and panicked at his words, unable to form a response or proper thought.

“You know, I wish I didn’t trip Tommy over.” His statement brought me out of my shell.

“Why?” I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest as I tried to pin my legs closed around his body but he slid them open again with ease, almost like he didn’t even think about it. I was unsure where this anger was coming from, this entire thing was just about sex, about fucking out everything that had pissed me off today. I didn’t know how, considering I could count the amount of times I’d spoken to him on one hand, but he’d fucked me perfectly, exactly how I needed it.

Eddie cracked a genuine smile, entirely different than the ones I’d seen, he laughed loudly as he smoothed the narrowed lines between my brows, muttering that I was cute when I was mad.

“I should really let this whole thing keep bothering you, because I’d really like to keep helping you get over your frustrations.”

_____________________________________

Tagging some babes that might wanna read this 💗

Eddie tag list } @mavex @fckyeahlames @harrys-tittie @sl-tfor-joseph-quinn @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @chickennug90 @miss-momma-drama @luceneraium @eddiesgffff @sammararaven @nightless @dotslabyrinth @relocatedheads @princessbubblehoe @muggleluna @sagittariughs @gloryekaterina @e0509 @urlivingdeadgirl @crimsonsabbath @lem0nb0iii @lelenikki @bebe0701 @bratckerman @the-tacos-unite-blog @extravagantplant @plethoravellichor @justmesadgirl @corrodedcorpsess @fanfictioniseverything @maximizedrhythms @sleepygery @ms1oftheboys @brittanyyydamnit @xsecretsirenx @clincallyonline17 @tlclick73 @aaaasdfghjjkkllll @figmentofquinn @daydreamerblues @hellfire-puppet @wonderful-outcast @drakensmainbitch @iamaslutforcoffee @emolooswrld @tayhar811 @alana4610 @princesscutie23 @msgexymunson

[dianakc]

All aboard the Milton omnibus

Fandom: North and South

Ever since John stumbled out of the Hales' house and onto an omnibus, having been rejected by Margaret (in the book, not the TV series), he has continued this weekly excursion. Unbeknown to him, Miss Hale also goes on an omnibus journey each week. Then one week, Miss Hale and Mr Thornton find themselves on the same omnibus. What a coincidence ...

I'll be posting a chapter once a week x

The omnibus trundled steadily along the streets of Milton, its horses plodding resolutely on, despite the slippery cobbles beneath their great hooves. The driver clicked his tongue in encouragement to the horses as the bus neared the last stop in the town. From Milton, the omnibus route meandered farther afield towards the surrounding villages, and then onward to the terminus at Prestwich. The driver glanced up at the heavy black sky that threatened snow, but he was grateful that at least it was dry, having suffered over the last few days from being exposed to persistent driving rain. Apart from the personal discomfort from the torrential downpour, it had taken his considerable experience to navigate his horses and carriage safely along the tracks between the villages which were awash with mud.

Only the driver sat outside, and the top level of the omnibus was vacant due to the wintry chill of the day. Even the conductor had decided to spend the whole journey standing at the entrance to the lower deck, instead of sitting beside the driver to rest his feet on the longer distances between stops. He hoped that there would be few more wanting to board, as the enclosed lower carriage was almost at capacity, and he really could do without complaints from gents not wanting to sit atop, when there was precious little he could do about it.

There were twelve passengers in total, all gentlemen, who were all grateful for the shelter of the lower deck. The occupants swayed with the movement of the bus, occasionally being jostled against one another if the road was particularly uneven, though all those aboard were well used to the motion of their transport and accepted the associated discomfort.

John Thornton wiped his coat sleeve on the steamed up window to get a better view as they approached Crampton Terrace. He rubbed his arm against the glass again and peered out towards the neat little row of houses. Over half a year had elapsed since he had stumbled from the Hales’ house onto the street in a state of desperate agitation and distress, and had found himself boarding the omnibus that had coincidentally been passing by at the same time. He had travelled to Prestwich in no small state of shock, then disembarked with his fellow travellers. Finding himself in the countryside, he had walked around the fields in a stupor, not knowing what else to do, while his head and heart had been in a turmoil, seething with tempestuous love for Miss Hale and yet desolate at her sound rejection of him. With despondency, he had then caught the return omnibus in the market square to be transported back to Milton, where he had to take up the reins of his life again after that short and unexpected interlude.

Though taking the omnibus trip on the day of his doomed proposal had been by chance, more at the whim of the driver stopping for him than any intention on his own part, John had realised afterwards that he had benefited from the journey – from being completely separated from his usual activities and worries. In fact, he gave so much credit to the excursion that he continued to do it. The warm summer afternoons of his first sojourns were long gone, and yet he continued even now on the bitterest of winter days. Once a week he slipped away from Marlborough Mills and took the ride through the countryside to Prestwich, and enjoyed the opportunity of respite from the enormous pressure he was under at work, not to mention the additional heartbreak that weighed so heavily upon him. He usually allowed time for his outing on Wednesdays, but no matter how he tried to arrange his work to accommodate the time off, it had been impossible this week, and so he had had to wait an extra day before being able to take his trip.

The memory of Miss Hale’s dismissal of his hand still squeezed and twisted at his heart most powerfully. And yet, his weekly omnibus rides to the rural environs did little to give him relief from his thoughts of Miss Hale – quite the contrary. John allowed his mind to ruminate over all of their interactions together, and without exception, this naturally led on to reliving his disastrous proposal and the occasion of seeing Miss Hale in an embrace with a stranger. Though this regular mental inspection of these events – and frequent they were – didn’t provide him with any answers, he had found that the horror of his crushing disappointment was somewhat easier to bear. Not that it hurt him less, but more that he felt able to endure it.

As the omnibus pulled up at Crampton Terrace, John looked towards the Hales’ modest home. He simply couldn’t help himself, as he had once seen Miss Hale at the window. She had been hanging freshly laundered curtains and had smiled and nodded a greeting to someone in the road; John presumed her greeting to be directed at the omnibus conductor. She hadn’t seen John that day, he was sure, though he didn’t think he would have been blessed with a smile of acknowledgement even if she had. But the memory of that chance sighting of her had encouraged him to watch out for her when they stopped in Crampton, and all times since, his hopes had been dashed by her absence.

And then, quite suddenly, John felt as though his heart had stalled, as who should board the omnibus but Miss Hale. She wore her customary brown coat and hat, and carried a basket, but he could see her black mourning skirt and she had a black woollen shawl drawn around her. She handed her thruppence fare to the conductor and took a couple of steps down the short aisle assessing where there was room for her to sit. There were two spaces left, one next to an older, rotund looking fellow diagonally across from John, and one next to John himself. He knew the very instant that Miss Hale observed him and their eyes met. In that brief second in time, John knew that she was weighing up whether she should sit next to him or not. As an acquaintance, it might be construed rude not to. Then, a gent behind John piped up in a friendly manner, ‘Afternoon Miss. Off to see your gentleman again I see.’

John held his breath in shock. He saw Miss Hale hesitate just for a moment before she nodded a smile at the friendly man and scurried to the other vacant seat to sit next to the portly gentleman diagonally across from John, and she settled her basket on her knee. John cast a glance behind him to look at the owner of the voice who was privy to details about Miss Hale. The man’s attention was now fixed upon a small notebook which he was reading from, oblivious to Mr Thornton’s scrutiny. John assessed him to be a few years older than himself, perhaps towards forty. He was smartly dressed and had sandy coloured hair and a beard – and clearly had no idea what damage his quip had done to John’s equanimity. John turned back around in his seat and rubbed at the window pane again, desperate for some small distraction from the brutal feeling of emptiness that was gradually engulfing him.

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Margaret could scarcely believe it. Mr Thornton was on her omnibus! What in the world was he doing here? She knew her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment after the friendly man’s observation. Normally, she would have exchanged a word or two with the man who regularly was on her bus. In fact, several of the occupants were known to her by sight from her weekly trip to Prestwich. She knew where the friendly man went to each week, sometimes carrying flowers, sometimes not, though she had no idea who any of her fellow travellers were or what their business was. On one occasion she had sat next to a garrulous young woman who had insisted on chattering away for almost all of the trip and Margaret had explained where she was going, and why. The friendly man had clearly picked up on this titbit and, most unfortunately, had repeated it in Mr Thornton’s presence. She had been about to sit next to him when in the periphery of her vision she had seen his eyes narrow and his lips tighten almost imperceptibly at the friendly man’s observation, and Margaret, spotting his reaction, had quickly sat in the alternative available seat.

Margaret fairly boiled inside at the unfairness of the situation. She had been seconds from sitting next to Mr Thornton for at least the next hour, and that time together and chit-chat that would have been possible, might have dispersed the insurmountable wall he had erected between them. Of course, she couldn’t blame him. She had, afterall, clung to him during the strike, which had made him believe that she cared for him. Margaret mused at the peculiarity that a strong and reputedly hard man such as Mr Thornton should be better attuned to his feelings than she was, as he had recognised love in his heart before she had seen it in her own. Margaret was bereft that her love for Mr Thornton had emerged into her consciousness when it was too late. How the fates had conspired against her, as it was not only her refusal of him which stood between them. It was cruel indeed that Mr Thornton should also have witnessed her last emotional goodbye to Frederick, preventing Mr Thornton’s love from being rekindled. He had made that quite clear. And now, as she made her weekly visit to Prestwich, the friendly gentleman’s comment had surely snuffed out any hope of a reconciliation with Mr Thornton.

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They had been bumping along in the omnibus for almost an hour, with the steady clip-clopping of the horses hooves just audible behind the louder monotonous rumble of the wheels against the rutted road. The journey for both Mr Thornton and Miss Hale had been an uncomfortable one. The wooden slatted seats and backrests seemed harder than usual and jabbed into their backs with every movement of the omnibus. There was no relief from looking at the scenery either, as steam from breath and warmth from bodies clouded the windows, so that all that was left to do was to think about the person sitting diagonally across from them. They were only perhaps two of three feet apart, but it may as well have been a mile.

Suddenly, the rhythmic tread of the horses skittered and the omnibus violently lurched first to one side, and then to the other. Margaret grabbed the backrest of the seat in front of her, and her basket tumbled to the floor spilling the contents into the aisle. Yelps of alarm were emitted from several of the omnibus occupants and newspapers were abandoned as the passengers attempted to brace themselves. Cries of ‘Steady on!’ and ‘Good Lord!’ were shouted as the omnibus once again swung sharply to the left, and this time irrevocably so, and it crashed to the ground on its side, skidding along for a yard or two to the sound of splintering wood, and shattering glass. The omnibus passengers and conductor were flung wildly about within the carriage before one last terrible cracking sound, followed by a bone shaking jolt, and the omnibus finally came to a stop.

The omnibus had fallen to the side where Margaret was seated, and fortunately for her, her fall had been somewhat softened by landing upon the portly gentleman. However the bolts fixing the bench in front of her to the floor of the carriage had been wrenched apart by the force of the crash, and it now lay on top of Margaret and the portly gentleman, pinning them in place. After a moment of stunned silence, the party aboard the omnibus gradually came to their senses, and after assessing the damage to the bus and to themselves, began to crawl and clamber towards the door, helping one another out of the wreckage. The conductor appeared to have sustained the worst injury, with a laceration to his forehead, and yet even he was able to get out of the carriage with minimal assistance.

John had found himself thrown against the side of the neighbouring bench behind Miss Hale’s seat, which had prevented him falling any further. He wondered if he had lost consciousness for a moment as he was dazed at first, then became aware of the sounds of shouts for help, grunts of exertion as people moved around him, and in the distance he could hear the dreadful distressed whinnying of the omnibus horses. Belongings littered the route out of the carriage. He saw hats and papers strewn haphazardly about, and Miss Hale’s basket which had children's drawings and rough clothing spilling from it. John shook his head, trying to get some clarity, and he understood the urge to escape and follow the others, but instead of joining the passengers in their quest to extricate themselves from the wreckage, John inched forwards with one thought in his mind.

‘Miss Hale! Miss Hale! Are you well?’

‘Yes, thank you … I think so,’ she replied tremulously.

John’s heart soared with relief. ‘And you, sir?’ he asked the portly gentleman who was squashed against the broken window that was now pressed to the muddied road, and had both Miss Hale and the bench on top of him.

‘I’ll survive,’ said the man. ‘Just get me out of here!’ he wheezed.

John called for help, and the friendly man came to his aid trying to lift the bench but it was stuck fast, as two of the iron legs had been twisted with the impact, restraining Margaret and the gentleman beneath. Unable to remove the bench, the only way to get the trapped passengers out was to pull them from beneath the broken seating. The portly gentlemen would have to be freed first, followed by Margaret.

In her dark cocoon below the bench, Margaret was aware of a hand reaching towards her through a gap in the mangled wood and iron of the seat. Gratefully she grasped it for the comfort it offered. She was frightened and she had a sharp pain in her leg, but she knew she must be calm and keep things in perspective; she would be released soon and she had suffered no serious harm. Beneath her she could feel the efforts to drag the portly gentleman out, and it was proving to be problematic.

‘Is everyone else all right? No one is seriously injured?’ she asked the owner of the hand that held hers with such firm authority.

It was John’s deep velvety Darkshire voice that replied, ‘Everyone seems to be well. Just a few bumps and grazes by the looks of things. Don’t worry, Miss Hale, we’ll have you out of there soon,’ he said, and he managed a secret twitch of a smile as he felt Miss Hale’s hand squeeze his in reply.

The friendly sandy haired man, who had caused both Margaret and John such consternation due to his unfortunate greeting earlier, was helping to extract the portly gentleman. And, by and by, his ample bulk was dragged free, and Margaret slumped lower down, now against the window in his place. John heard her wince in pain.

‘Miss Hale? Are you injured?’ said John, grasping her hand tightly even though it was harder now to reach her with any comfort.

‘Mr Thornton, I think my foot is trapped. As my body position moved, my foot stayed where it was. I find I can’t move it.’

‘Don’t worry, Miss Hale. I promise we shall get you free. Not much longer,’ he said with calm assurance, however his expression told another story as his gaze held the eyes of the friendly man.

‘Ashfield,’ said the friendly man, extending his hand to John.

‘Thornton,’ replied John with a nod, and reached across with his free hand to shake that of his new acquaintance.

‘Oh! Mr Thornton, the mill master. Yes, I’ve heard mention of you. It is my pleasure to meet you, though not like this I dare say,’ Mr Ashfield replied with a quick smile.

‘Indeed,’ replied John a little distractedly, as he returned his attention to Miss Hale. With her new position on the ground, he could now see her face through the cleft between the seat and the back of the bench where there was a small space. Her hat was missing and he thought she looked a little pale, but he supposed the exact same could have been said about himself.

‘Miss Hale, I’m going to let go of your hand for a moment—’

‘Must you?’ she interrupted, and she clutched him a little tighter.

‘Just for a moment. I need to see if I can free your foot. Then we can get you out,’ he said gently.

‘Shall I try to find a saw?’ said Ashfield, causing a gasp of fright from Margaret.

John chuckled softly. ‘For the bench, Miss Hale. Not for your foot.’

Margaret gave a little nervous laugh.

‘May I look at your foot then, Miss Hale?’ John pressed.

‘All right,’ she said with a voice so small that John ached to be able to hold and to comfort her.

John let go of Margaret’s hand, and lying across the sides of the remaining seats with the floor of the passageway to his back, he looked through the twisted ironwork to see Miss Hale’s foot. Her skirt and petticoats were pushed up almost to her knee and showed that the bar holding her in place was just above the level of her boot. John stifled a gasp of shock as he perceived livid blood stains to Miss Hale’s legs, but within seconds he had steadied his nerves and his heartbeat as he realised that it was in fact her woollen ribbed stockings which were coloured red, and not tinted with blood, though he couldn’t be sure. He clambered up again so that he could look at her while he addressed her.

‘The metal from the seat is just above your boot. I wonder, if I removed your boot, you might be able to slide your foot free.’

Margaret tugged her leg again and felt the bar scraping her skin near the top of her boot. ‘I think you are right, Mr Thornton. Please. Take it off,’ she said.

John lay down again, his body supported by the remaining rows of benches, and reached through the mangled remnants of the seating to Miss Hale’s foot. There were at least a dozen small buttons fastening Miss Hale’s boot in place, and without a button hook it was tricky to undo them with any speed, but his long nimble fingers at last managed the task and he pulled the boot from her foot.

‘May I check for signs of injury?’ he shouted to her.

‘Yes,’ she replied, courageously.

And so John quickly ran his hand along Miss Hale’s stockinged leg, from the tip of her toe to where the bench metal work impeded her ankle, then above it to her knee. He withdrew his hand and breathed a sigh of relief as he held his clean palm up to Mr Ashfield. ‘No blood,’ he said. Diverting his attention back to Margaret he called to her, ‘Can you wiggle your toes?’ and she dutifully did so.

John climbed up again and passed his hand back down to Miss Hale and she accepted his grip eagerly.

‘There is no blood, so it looks all right, as far as I can see. Can you try to get free now?’

Margaret wriggled trying to pull her leg, the broken glass beneath her crunching with each movement. Her foot moved easier now that her boot was removed, but there still wasn’t enough space to get out. She felt panic beginning to rise and with it a few tears began to prick. In the dim light John saw the glistening pools forming in her eyes and he looked up to Ashfield. ‘We need to try something else. We need to get her out.’

Ashfield nodded. ‘It’s getting a mite cold in here now too,’ he whispered, the clouds of crystallised breath accentuating the truth of his words. His concern for Miss Hale’s health was increasing and he too felt the urgency in needing to free her. There was no knowing how long it might take to get help, and in another hour it would start to get dark, so they needed to rely on their own abilities. ‘If some of us could try to lift the bench, even just by a fraction, it might be enough to get Miss Hale out,’ he suggested, and John agreed that it was worth a try. So Mr Ashfield crawled from the omnibus and secured the help of three of the strongest in their party and the men climbed back aboard to awkwardly position themselves to lift the bench in the confined space.

Ashfield piped up again. ‘One of us needs to get behind Miss Hale and pull her when the time is right. What say you, Thornton? You might be the man for that job.’

John cast a puzzled glance at Ashfield. He was as strong as any of them there, most likely stronger, and had presumed he would be adding his muscle to the lifting of the bench.

Ashfield spoke in a lowered tone, ‘I was thinking of the lady, Thornton. You are clearly already acquainted and she has obviously put her trust in you,’ he said quietly, nodding to their hands still holding tightly to one another amid the twisted wood and iron. ‘You’re probably the youngest of us too, and more agile,’ he said more loudly for the benefit of the others around, and with a jaunty wink and a slap on the back, John was volunteered.

‘Of course,’ said John.

In the cramped interior of the carriage, John shrugged out of his coat so that he could move more easily. Armed with a blanket that was provided by the omnibus driver to be placed over the broken glass and splinters of wood, he crawled to get to Margaret. ‘Can you sit up a bit?’ he asked, and Margaret leaned forward, almost as far as a sitting position, and John lay down the rug and squeezed himself into the tight spot behind her so that Margaret was in the V of his legs. He took a deep breath and placed his arms around her body, close to her waist, and in doing so his chin was at her shoulder and his cheek almost pressed to hers. ‘Ready?’ he asked softly.

‘Yes’, she said, and clasped her arms over his that circled around her middle.

John nodded at Ashfield.

‘Right. On my count of three then go. Ready?’ said Ashfield to the men positioned by the bench, ‘Three, two, one, go!’

The men heaved as hard as they could, though the seating hardly seemed to move at all, and yet it was just enough, as when John pulled Margaret backwards her foot was wrenched free, and though she had to press her eyes tightly shut and clench her teeth not to cry out, Margaret was elated to have been liberated. John was panting with exertion by her ear and his grip upon her remained firm.

‘I’m free!’ exclaimed Margaret, and the men all gratefully stopped attempting to lift the bench.

Mr Ashfield helped John out of the little space behind Miss Hale, and then John himself helped Margaret to crawl to the doorway of the omnibus, her exit further impeded by her clothing which precluded ease of movement. Nevertheless she emerged from the omnibus to a cheer from her fellow passengers and was lifted to the ground by Mr Thornton.

As John looked at the wreckage, it became apparent that it was nothing short of a miracle that no one had been seriously hurt. As well as smashed windows and broken wooden panels and struts, two of the wheels were considerably damaged, perhaps beyond repair, so there was no way that they would be going home by way of the omnibus that evening. The carriage had slipped in the mire and was perched perilously close to a considerable drop by the hillside, where the recent heavy rainfall had caused a mudslide. John dared not contemplate what might have happened if the driver had not managed to keep the omnibus on the road.

John rejoined the group where a discussion regarding what they were all to do was in progress. The horses had been loosened from their harness and had got back to their feet, seemingly unharmed, and their previous distress now calmed. The driver advised his passengers that they were only about a ten or fifteen minute walk from the village of Little Heaton, and as it was patently clear that no one would be getting back to Milton this afternoon or evening, Little Heaton sounded like a welcome destination.

The omnibus passengers included three gentlemen who resided in Prestwich, and although it might take them an hour to get there, they took their leave to walk directly home before it became dark. The driver, who also had a cottage and stables in Prestwich, decided to stay with his friend the conductor, not least because he was concerned for his welfare, having sustained a head wound. The horses had also had a fright and the driver thought it best to let them rest overnight in Little Heaton before making the longer journey home. So belongings were retrieved, hats donned, and Miss Hale’s boot replaced, though it was not fastened as her ankle was already showing signs of swelling. The omnibus driver, walking briskly beside his horses, led the way, tailed by the conductor who had a handkerchief tied around his head to stem the bleeding from his cut. The majority of the passengers came next in the procession, and a little way further back, slower than the rest, followed the last group of three; Miss Hale walked arm in arm with Mr Thornton on one side, who was also carrying her basket, and Mr Ashfield on the other, both supporting her as she limped towards the village.

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[january-summers]

Well, it's official, Agent Washington is my new hyper-fixation. How do I know for sure?

Because I just spent half an hour staring into space and running a WashingMaine AU in my head.

it was both hilarious (to me), and very messed up.

Spartan!Maine, ODST!Wash, no PFL, Wash still gets his brain damage, post war retirement (they served together for a few months then parted ways and Wash got brain wrecked just before the war ended) they both get really nice retirement packages and coincidentally for plot reasons end up retiring to the same town on the same planet.

Maine spots Wash and recognises him right away but gets a case of the shy, so instead of communicating like a person, he stalks Wash instead. Wash... takes a while to notice because he has the forgetfuls and when Maine breaks in to touch Wash's stuff, just assumes he forgot moving things.

Then Maine decides to kidnap Wash, which doesn't go as well as Maine was hoping and he has to leave him tied up in the root cellar of his very nice hobby farm farmhouse.

Which Wash promptly escapes, but much like when you leave one room and enter another and forget why you were doing that, Wash's brain damage decides the whole kidnapping thing is irrelevant news, and so Wash is standing in the entry hallway of a strange house when Maine returns from his very urgent errands.

Wash freaks out because he thinks he broke into someone's house, Maine accidentally convinces Wash they're housemates (Wash is in the process of moving in) and Wash just forgot... because he has a spare room with a closet full of Wash's stolen clothes.

And thus begins their domestic farm life, where in the most exciting thing that happens is Maine getting scarily determined to win best cake at the local farmer's market competition, and Wash convincing him they need a cat, and then the cat having kittens.

(Wash doesn't recognise Maine at first because he never saw him without his spartan armour, so it takes a while to click, and by the time it does, he assumes he already knew that but forgot.)

And then a year later while they're quietly reading Wash suddenly gets up without a word, grabs a flashlight, heads down to the root cellar and finds a small blood stain left behind from his kidnapping.

"Maine, buddy, I'm not mad, but I need you to tell me the truth: did you stalk and kidnap me, or is that a crazy dream I had?" *Guilty silence* "Okay, not mad, but probably don't do that again, okay big guy?" *nods, chastened* "Cool, hey is it lunchtime yet, I'm hungry."

and they move on with their lives not addressing the kidnapping thing because they are fail-people who deserve a soft epilogue, dammit.

-

There was a bonus story-line in the background, where Carolina had worked with Wash and was keeping a part-time long-distance eye on him because his brain damage, and noticed he'd been kidnapped and lead a task force to find him, only to find him living in domestic bliss and her determination to see justice done to the monster who'd kidnapped her teammate crumbling in the face of Wash showing off his new kittens and their prize winning pumpkin.

[booitsbeloved]

The sky was bright out, ______ was ordered to baby sitting their little brother, [?????]. They were out on the playground by themselves, since everybody had left once they arrived, indulged into a captivating story with toy dolls and cars. [?????] making their own sound effects of sorts for each little thing.

______ was not paying attention too much, their mind drifting off farther away. Thinking about their mother, her work.

The people who left..

While trying their hardest to drive the little fake cars their eyes would keep on landing on the sand pit not too distanced away from them, it had a miniscule mound in the corner and something in ______'s body was tugging for it.

______ kept [?????]'s story moving as they acted out a chase scene, giggles flying through the air.

He would miss those laughs.

When they reached the small mound [?????] got quickly distracted by causing obstruction in the pit, sand particles flying everywhere, the plotline leaving his mind.

______ took this chance to unbury whatever this object was. Fingers ripping through the sand til they felt the cardboard, pulling up this box ______ had a nagging curiosity.

Maybe this was one of those time capsules of sorts? Maybe old stuff nobody wanted anymore? None of it mattered.

When carefully opening the box ______ found...tapes? All of them had one weird symbol and numbers engraved onto their titles. ______ hoped her mother wasn't home yet by the time they wrapped up playground time, his mind filled with ideas about whatever these could be.

______ always wanted to find themselves in mystery, coincidentally like their own identity wasn't something of that kind to the town anyway. Nobody ever being able to get a tight grasp of the personality of her, his whole profile doused in many question marks and unsureness.

I guess that's what happens when your town is a control freak and nitpicky over who does what..

Not like their family has the best of reputations anyway besides ______'s likeliness.

Ideas and thoughts brewed in ______'s mind about what content these tapes held, she finally had something of her own, something to discover for herself. It was all she ever wanted.

When [?????] was set to bed, she loaded in the first tape her fingers could get their hands on.

**Whirrrr...**

[beansnsoup]

Leia x fem reader

(makeout session)

The reader is kinda Leia's childhood bully she played rough with leia and teased her a lot but she never knew Leia didn't like it she thought they were just playing around so when she here's Leia is staying with her grandparents for summer she wants to hang out with her old play mate but finds out Leia didn't think of her as a childhood friend amd has been avoiding her so the reader decides to ambush Leia to apologize she didn't plan what happened next

Sure!

☆

Old "Friend"

Leia Forman x fem!reader

Summary- Your parents wanted to do a long road trip over the summer. You all stop in Point Place to stretch your legs for a while and you remember hearing from a friend this is where Leia Forman is, and just so happen to want to reunite with her.

Warnings- bullying ig, trauma?, I rly don't know

"How long are we planning on crashing here?" You overheard your mom asking your dad, the conversations weren't very private in this motel you guys rented out.

Your dad was silent, so you assumed he was shrugging his shoulders, "We all need a break from the road, we'll leave when we're ready."

To be honest, you were totally fine with that, you recognized the name on the sign when you drove into this town, your friend told you that Leia Forman would be staying here with her grandparents.

You always had a sort of liking towards her. You would tease her in elementary school as a sort of inside joke. As you got into middle school, you kind of started to grow different feelings for her.

But in middle school, that's when she started to avoid you. You never knew why. She just acted like you had some kind of sickness all of the sudden, you never though anything of it and just decided to give her some space.

You walked out of the bathroom, "Mom, Dad, I'm going out." They say okay in sync and get back to their conversation.

You have no idea where you're going in this town, you just decide you go anywhere that's nice and in walking distance of the motel.

You find a small diner looking place, you've got some extra cash on you, so you decide you can run in for some fries or something.

You walk in and walk straight to the counter to order your fries. You sit down at a table and scan the building.

Coincidentally enough, there she was, she alone, though. She was sitting with a boy and a girl, they were holding hands though so you knew one of them wasn't dating her.

They eventually left, leaving her by herself, your fries had been sent to your table. You grabbed them and walked over to her, sitting down across from her.

"Hey Leia." You smile at her. She was about to ask if she knew you, but then it clicked, "What are you doing here?" You were shocked to say the least by the tone in her voice.

"Oh. Um, me and my family are on a road trip. We're passing through."

She nods, looking away from you. "Did I do something wrong?" You ask her, she grabs her bag and starts for the door, "Can you just leave me alone."

You follow her out the door, "Leia!"

"Do you know what leave me alone means?" She yells back to you.

"What did I do?"

She keeps walking until you get to he grandparents house. You follow her in, "This is trespassing Y/N!"

Before she can slam her door in your face you squeeze in, "What is your deal, we used to be friends."

"We were never friends Y/N!"

"What?"

"You made fun of me all the time, friends don't do that!"

"But, it was a joke. I wasn't serious, I really liked you Leia."

She looks at you, silent, looking for the words to say. You fidget with your shirt hem, awkwardness filling the room.

In the heat of the moment the both of you go in, your lips collide, it was the most messy kiss you've ever had.

Your tounges were colliding every second, teeth mashing, gasps escaping every now and then. "Leia."

"Hm?" She let's out, kissing down your jaw, "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

She leans back, "It's fine. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions."

You both giggle, going in for more kisses.

I'm sorry in advance. My fics have been a little trash lately. Writers' block be hitting hard with these 90s show requests

[ashxketchum]

Okay, let me talk about PokeDigiBey high school shenanigans because why not?

Kai is the oldest, so he's one year above the core gang, while Ash and Misty are one year below. Depending on the flow of the story I'm imagining, I shuffle Mimi being in the same year as the core gang or Ash and Misty, but most of the time she ends up with the former. Core gang includes Tyson, Hilary, Yamato, Taichi, Sora and Charlie (OC).

Tyson and Ash are in the baseball club together, though Tyson is not the Captain (even though he should have been but since Hiro is the Coach there's a lot of drama involved.) Taichi is obviously the Captain of the Soccer Club and Sora is their Coach (there's a whole story here), Kai is the Student Council President in his final year, after he graduates Hilary becomes the President. Mimi is the Captain of the Cheerleading Club, which includes Misty and many other Pokegirls (and her Vice Captain is ofc Dawn who also idolises Mimi). Misty is also a part of the Swim Club, and the regional Freestyle Champion.

A recurring plot line in most of my high school au scenarios is that when Kai moves out of town, he and Charlie decide to take a break in their relationship. Actually, Kai decides that and when he talks to Charlie about it, she wants to hide her vulnerability and doesn't want to come off as being too needy, so she agrees to the split even though deep down she believes that the two could pull off long distance (which isn't exactly long distance since Kai does mostly come home on weekends) if they tried. This was inspired by the song Why by Avril Lavigne. ( Fair warning but every single thing about my OC is inspired by Avril Lavigne's discography.)

With Tyson and Hilary, there are of course a billion scenarios, but two of the most common plot lines I follow are:

A) they're secretly sleeping with each other with a no strings kind of set up - Hilary is somewhat the poster girl for honour student, she's always under the spotlight which doesn't make it easy for her to date since most of the time it's difficult for her to gauge whether the person asking her out is interested in her, or the attention that comes with dating her. Tyson plays baseball under the tutelage of Hiro (who because of an injury couldn't progress his own career) but also practices kendo & shogi on the side because Ryu is afraid that their family traditions will die out. So he's too busy pleasing all his family members and their ambitions to even breathe, let alone date. Which is why the only sex, no feelings set up works very well for Tyson and Hilary UNTIL OF COURSE THEY CATCH INTENSE FEELINGS haha and then don't know how to backtrack to the beginning of their relationship and date each other properly which just leads to misunderstandings + unresolved feelings + angsty arguments.

B) Both are waiting for the other person to make a move - with their friend circles interacting so closely, it's impossible for them to avoid each other, so they both know that the spark exists between them. But when Hilary works up the courage and low-key confesses to Tyson in middle school, he isn't ready yet to accept how he feels and freaks out, turning her down by calling her "high maintenance". After which Hilary tries to stay as far away from him as possible, deciding that until Tyson doesn't flat out ask her out, she's not going to give him any attention. Meanwhile, Tyson thinks that since he hurt Hilary's feelings in the past, she doesn't want anything to do with him and tries his best to keep his distance from her (which Hilary thinks is him being completely disinterested towards her). So they kind of drift apart during high school, and only get a chance to interact again when they coincidentally sign up for the same elective class in college where they are - you guessed it - made partners for an assignment.

And originally this post was supposed to have snippets about each of the ships, but as you can see my TyHil heart doesn't know how to put a full stop when I start talking about them, so for now this is it 🥸

[adamwatchesmovies]

Pompeii (2014)

While I didn't enjoy this film, that doesn't mean you won't. No matter what I say, the people involved in this project did it: they actually made a movie. That's something to be applauded. With that established...

Pompeii wants to do for its titular city what Titanic did to the ship. Along the way, it borrows more than a few elements from Ridley Scott’s Gladiator. Sometimes, mixing two seemingly incompatible things works out but you don’t always get Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, if you know what I mean.

In 79 A.D., Milo (Kit Harrington) is a talented gladiator called “the Celt” by the romans who wiped out his tribe and enslaved him. Brought to Pompeii, he catches the eye of Cassia (Emily Browning) when he helps get her carriage out of the mud. She is returning home, tired of the corruption of Rome and of Senator Quintas Attius Corvus (Kiefer Sutherland), who has been relentlessly pursuing her hand in marriage. While Milo and Cassia both look for a way to escape their worlds, mount Vesuvius looms in the distance, belching more smoke than usual…

This movie assumes you’re stupid, which is much worse than it being stupid itself. Pompeii ominously shows Vesuvius every 10 minutes. In no time, you become exasperated. Take a poll. How many people could even name an Italian volcano besides the who destroyed Pompeii? Who even knows anything about the city besides the way it was destroyed? You want to establish crucial plot points ahead of time but this film overdoes it to the point of comedy. When James Cameron brought us back to the doomed ship, he made the effort to sweep us off our feet. The Heart of the Ocean, lavish sets, stories of ordinary people looking for a better life and above all, the romance. By the time that iceberg showed up, we were so invested in Jack and Rose we'd almost forgotten a disaster was incoming. Paul W.S. Anderson wants to do the same thing. Unfortunately, the clumsy dialogue and feeble story means you never fall for the would-be lovers. Seemingly aware of this, the film instead tries to dump a bucket of action on the screen as a distraction. Are we not entertained? Nope.

The resemblances between Pompeii and Ridley Scott’s epic sword-and-sandal adventure can’t be coincidental. It steals entire scenes and then proceeds to do them so badly you’ll be in stitches. It’s trying so hard to be epic, particularly when lava begins pelting the Roman city and Milo races through the streets, dodging flames, falling debris and, most dangerous of all - Kiefer Sutherland chewing the scenery. Did we even need a villain? All he does is make the whole thing seem contrived. What are the odds the one man Milo swore vengeance upon is in the same town as him on the day the volcano erupts. Not only that, the villain happens to be pursuing the same woman as Milo and with the same passion that burns away common sense. The idea is for the calamity to heighten the tension, for us to desperately cling onto the hope that things will work out. I doubt anyone watching will be kept in suspense.

Considering the films it’s impersonating, Pompeii has the good grace of being mercifully short. Also noteworthy are the special effects - the disaster sequences look great. Otherwise, this whole thing is a write-off whose only purpose would be to be shown as a double-bill with either Titanic or Gladiator to prove once and for all that those films are good. Seeing a cheap knockoff gives you a new appreciation for the original. (On DVD, November 23, 2019)

[taterturnspages]

ALL RHODES LEAD HERE BOOK REVIEW

Genre(s): Fiction, Contemporary, Romance

TW: loss of parent/grief

STAR RATING: 5/5

SPICE RATING: 3/5

SYNOPSIS:

Aurora De La Torre knows moving back to a place that was once home isn’t going to be easy.

Starting your whole life over probably isn’t supposed to be.

But a small town in the mountains might be the perfect remedy for a broken heart.

Checking out her landlord across the driveway just might cure it too.

READ THIS IF YOU:

Have a soft spot for big, grumpy, blue-collar men

Enjoy nature and spending time outdoors

Need a lil found family trope goodness

Enjoy plot-driven romances (but don’t worry, this is still very character driven also)

CHARACTERS:

Aurora De La Torre:

I always love when characters in books have depth and their past is discussed in a way that gives us (the readers) an understanding as to what led them to present day. Aurora had JUST that. She had struggles from her past that she was fleeing from (rightfully) and just wanted to start over at the only place she knew as home. She had goals while still not entirely sure what her future held, which I think is relatable for most people. I know the whole “finding themselves” trope gets a little cliché, but I think Mariana Zapata wrote this flawlessly in Aurora.

Aurora is perseverant and determined to claim what is rightfully hers throughout this entire novel, even if it’s not easy. Tough hike? Tough SHIT, she’s set on getting through it. Coincidentally, I think this is her biggest strength and biggest weakness. Throughout the novel, Aurora often desperately needs help but refuses it as a way to build her character, even if she’s miserable; which, to me, is the tell-tale sign of a strong female main character and I eat that shit up every. single. time. But don’t be fooled, when Aurora is offered help or assistance, she takes it with gratitude.

Aurora is troubled in several different ways from her past, but none of those things inhibit her ability to be a decent person. She’s not spiteful to the universe (although she has every right to be) and she treats everyone with respect as long as respect is given to her. I think she is the absolute model blueprint for my favorite type of FMC.

Tobias Rhodes:

I’d say “don’t even get me started on Rhodes”, but please, get me started on Rhodes. THIS MAN????? Perfection. Absolute unfettered perfection. Tobias Rhodes, too, has a past and it creates so much depth in his character. Seeing how he acts and why is so important for me in a grumpy x sunshine romance because otherwise the MMC comes off as just being irritated at everyone and everything purely because he’s allowed to.

Rhodes tends to keep people at a distance until he becomes comfortable due in part because he is protective over his son. Watching him unfold throughout this book was probably my favorite aspect because he was the gift that kept on giving. Every time him and Aurora interacted there was just a small glimmer of something new in his words and actions each time. You just can’t help but fall in love with him yourself once he starts showing his sense of humor, selflessness, and empathy.

If your love language is acts of service, then OH BOY are you in major luck with this book. Rhodes shares his love in multifaceted ways, but acts of service is his BREAD AND BUTTER YA’LL. You won’t be disappointed.

PRAISES, CRITIQUES, AND MY THOUGHTS:

I really, truly, HONESTLY have nothing bad to say about this book. I grappled for hours before sitting down to write this review for something even slightly bad about this book and I just couldn’t think of anything.

Mariana Zapata has been crowned the queen of slow-burn romances, and after reading this book (my first of hers) I can attest that she was crowned appropriately. This book is pretty lengthy at a whopping 559 pages, but I was never bored while reading this. If things weren’t actively happening, then things were being built up for something to happen soon. It really is a gift for an author to be able to write 559 pages of words that don’t bore the reader.

There was banter, yearning, and tension (SO MUCH TENSION!!!). The characters meshed together flawlessly and confirmed for Aurora that she made the right decision returning to Pagosa Springs. After being chewed up and spit out by her ex-husband’s family, she deserved to be surrounded by a group of people that cared about her and I am so over the moon that she got exactly what she deserved. Found family tropes in books will never cease to make me smile.

This book was recommended to be from a post that I made about wanting romance book recs with an MMC that resembled Luke Danes from Gilmore Girls. Luke Danes and Tobias Rhodes are two pieces cut from the same fabric so if you’re a Luke Danes stan then just know ‘All Rhodes Lead Here’ will not disappoint you.

I can always tell that a book was a five-star read for me when I find myself instantly thinking about how no book could ever compare to it. I think I’m going to be looking for Tobias Rhodes in every romance book I read in the future and that should speak for itself.

READ THIS BOOK IF YOU KNOW WHAT’S GOOD FOR YOU!!!!!

[yourlocalcorviddad]

Ugh I just wanna ramble about my oc that I'm currently playing as the farmer on stardew right now and the idea I had about him and some of the modded NPC's from the Bear Fam mod and just, ugh I love that mod and I have ideas

So like, Summer would've grown up in the same town, in the same circles even. While his parents weren't old money rich, they still would've been in nearly the same social circles as the Bear family.

And so Summer would've grown up with Sig, Gunner, and even Gudrun. And had likely gone to school with Teren cause despite being in the status of being able to go to private school, Summer, who's not even going by that just yet, he chose it himself as an adult to try and like, give himself a new start after what I call the Incident, would've wanted to go to public school and have some non-hoity toity friends.

He still would've had to go to the, like, high society parties and all cause of his parents, and would have pretty much instantly preferred to hang out with the Bear's just cause of vibes and all, but he never introduced his two friend groups together, so Sig and Teren meet in the military, not any sooner despite being in the same city, both playing gridball, and literally sharing the same friend crush as each other.

And then Sig and Teren go off to the military, and Summer goes to college-in Sondra's accounting class, study group with Gunner and friends with him for a bit there-and at first he's sending letters to them-and any other friends who may have enlisted, at least until his accident.

And all I can think of is, Sig and Teren both regularly sending letters back and forth with Summer, then suddenly they never get a response, months past, nothing.

They try calling on the rare phone time they can, phone is disconnected.

And they don't know

They think he's ignoring them

They don't know he was in a car accident that was so bad that he almost died, that his memory is shot for a good period of time and while he remembers things like scholarly things, his memory of people from before the accident is shit.

And his parents, despite trying to always make him have 'the right friends' never liked Sig and them for some reason, and they disapproved of his pubic school friends like Teren, so they didn't bother to remind him like they did with the others.

And while he was in the hospital recovering, they 'moved his room to the lower floor too make it easier' coincidentally packing up his stuff that didn't meet their standards, aka anything they knew came from either group, pictures, letters, etc.

But he's still got the phantom memories, the urges to check the mail, the urges to write letters, stuff he did with others, but no clue why.

He feels oddly nostalgic watching movies he's sworn he's never seen before-like the mummy with Teren, Casablanca with his study group, etc.

And like, the parents just toss the letters he gets back, and get him a new phone and change his number and switch him to distance learning for him to finish his degree.

So by the time he's moving to stardew valley, he has only faint memories and impressions and a feeling of loss he can't explain.

All this while using arm crutches, leg and back braces, even a wheelchair on bad days when his injuries flair up. His parents try to convince him not to, that they can hire someone for the farm, etc, but he's stubborn and goes about it anyway.

He puts pavers down for paths, tends the land and animals when he can, gets help when he can't, and always has a spot for bees.

And then he meets the residents from East Scarp, and the grumpy, withdraw Sig Bear, and neither of them recognize each other, cause it's been a decade, and Sig was in a war, and Summer had to have reconstruction surgery on his face after the accident, and he's going by Summer now, having wanted a new start.

And then later that year a friend of Sig's from the military comes to town as well, following after Sig's younger brother and sister who came not long before to stay with him and their aunt.

And Teren doesn't recognise Summer either, not with the changes and all, but the three are quickly thick as thieves.

And it's Summer Gunner goes to for help with the adventure guild issues

It's Summer that Teren goes to for advice about settling into the town

It's Summer Sig goes to for help when Gunner doesn't come back from the mine, and the same for Teren and Gunner when Sig gets caught in a cave in later as well.

But they don't realize, as all of them have trauma about their past so other than a "worked for joja" "was in the military" before having moved to the valley, they don't know.

[meanwhileinstasiville]

Diving while black, redlining, and or being compelled by illiteracy to vote against your own interests

As I used to work with linux a lot for fun, there's a political analog growing here on the internet.

Working with experimental software; you have to have access to *the right repositories* else you end up in a place I called "dependency hell". When it's unmaintained or even seldom maintained; you have *no idea* what or where a repository (if it even exists) might be with a library you need. You can't know; it's unknowable. Absolutely no one is having your problem or even has heard of it.

(Can't vote your interest even if the best informed are giving you good support; they aren't electoral politic problems)

Redlining and the reason I'm referencing it here in conjunction with linux repositories, is because services and/or solutions themse may not actually exist in your area or specific situation. Redlining means speeding to work everyday because suburban driving distance to your job is unavailable.

Elon musk is the same on the internet so far as anyone knows to "Tom from myspace" dump of a room with a computer in it. Race? There's no race.

A lot of exclusive in real life before the internet locations, that I like to joke about myself "getting shot for showing up" (what would happen even though I'm white as that is, for reasons I won't go into) are accessible as anything on the internet.

You can't vote to live in a place with the amenities, is what I'm saying in a drawn out way. Vote for self sufficiency, can't do that either. Safe living and quality of life? Can't vote for that.

(I'm living in a town founded in part by my mom's family; me of six gene at present. While I'm sitting here writing, there's a walk-by comments of "oh yeah!?!" stalkers on tap essentially because it's become a cartel controlled area since 1980s or so. Where my family used to be able to do all the same damn things that *sound conspiratorial* when I talk about them. There's no voting that away. A drug production hub on a transnational interstate down the road is the "Democratic alternative" to Ashland's formerly kkk "republican rich people who *are all friends here* own everything" all professionals and no menial labor so no minorites. And it's as bad one way or the other. There's no legitimate economy; so its "old money with industrial resources at home" OR criminal free enterprise via contraband Oregon coincidentally now treats like Portugal. There's no other thing.)

[viridian-artist]

You said that your Pokémon self insert doesn't follow the canon from the series. Does the way you meet Guzma change then? Did you also "adopt" Hau and Lillie at the same time or did that happen at different points?

OH YEAH

I ramble a bit so it will be under the cut

Meeting Guzma::

I would've been following Hau and Lillie on their respective journeys, still letting them be independent in their own rights and make sure they don't run into too much trouble. The Team Skull grunts would still be causing their trouble, but also taking note of the new resident/outsider that's babysitting the kids (aka me).

I imagine they would throw occasional side comments my way about me being an adult, but I wouldn't pay much mind other than finding it stupidly hilarious that that's all they could tease me for.

I see them as "snitching" to Guzma that I'm around helping Hau and Lillie out so he'd at least be aware of who I was by the time he showed his face around me. I personally see him taking his time in that regard, "coincidentally" checking in on his grunts that "just so happen" to be in the same town or route as me but staying a good distance away from me where it wouldn't be too obvious?

When he does properly introduce himself to me, I would be sitting on a beach in the evening, taking time for myself and Lechuga (my Litten!!) while Hau and Lillie are resting in a motel room or somewhere safe like that. We'd both be sitting (or standing) close to each other to talk, but far enough, where we wouldn't be viewed as being associated with each other? There would be limited conversation, just us acknowledging each other. He would at least respect that I'm watching over the kids.

When I get back to Hau and Lillie, they would've been obviously awake and had been watching us the entire time. My dumbass would be blushing and talking about "the dorkass gang leader guy who's totally stupid."

"Adopting" Hau and Lillie

I adopt Lillie in front of the apparel shop in Hau'oli City on Melemele Island. She reminds me a lot of my irl little sister who's around the same age. She's definitely mature for her age, given her home life, but still naive in other aspects which, again, remind me of my sister. It's both that I want to protect her and just provide that comfort and support.

Hau, on the other hand, reminds me of my little brother when he was around that age. Sort of laid back in that he knows what he wants to do but doesn't want to truly stress over it if he doesn't have to. He's very determined as well to accomplish his goals. I just love his energy and admire it more than anything. I snatch him up almost immediately after meeting him by my house, where he gives me my Litten (I imagine he gave me Lechuga as his way of welcoming me to Alola instead of the way we meet him and get our starter Pokémon).