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megwritesriddles · 6 months ago

Text

Sweetest Nectar ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Fem! Reader / You

Summary: Being at Hogwarts at university-level had it's perks, such as unsupervised days in the greenhouse with Neville. Reader finds herself in an unfortunate position thanks to a flower in the greenhouse and Neville has to figure out how to help while being a gentleman and preserving their friendship.

Tags: Sex pollen, Mildly dubious consent, Fingering, P in V, Unprotected sex, Begging, Friends to lovers, Minor yearning, HogwartsUniversity!AU, Post-war/Eighth year, Virgin!Neville (he just is, I don't make the rules), Too much backstory, Sentient Hogwarts, Silly fluffy ending.

Word count: 11.1k

all fandom masterlist | hp masterlist | read it on ao3

Authors note: Can you see why I've been gone so long??? This had zero business being 11k words but I'm a chronic overexplainer so here we are!! Skip the first 9 paragraphs if you don't care about any worldbuilding. Continuing my 'Neville gets muscular as he gets older' agenda as per. The last line is so dumb... Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

P.S. this is technically day 23 of my kinktober but it's january so lets not talk about that

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Hogwarts worked in mysterious ways, with its own indecipherable motives. This much had always been true but was especially recognised lately. Once rebuild efforts had concluded after the war, Professor McGonagall, like every headmaster before her, bar Severus Snape, had sent out invitations to recent graduates to join the Higher Education program, a two-year program that would prepare its students to become a professor in any chosen field, subject to meeting entry requirements of the course. Demand for this program was higher than it ever had been, so many recent Hogwarts graduates felt like they had missed so much time at Hogwarts, that they were willing to come back on the program just to make up for lost time. At first, McGonnagal thought of shutting the whole thing down or at least raising entry requirements for joiners; there wasn’t exactly enough room in the designated Higher Education quarters for all the applicants. And though the regular student population had dwindled significantly over the course of the war (best not thought about too hard), it seemed wrong to try and room adults with 15-year-olds just to fit everyone in. The night before she intended to send out the letters of amendment to the required marks, McGonagall felt bizarrely compelled to go on a stroll around the castle, feeling drawn down a route she didn't often find herself going. There, she found a brand new door, behind which were brand new living quarters, just big enough for all the applicants. Although she should have been relieved, McGonagall was initially rather frustrated by this. Why now did the blasted old castle decide it could build, when nearly all summer long volunteers had been slaving away to restore the castle? The windows glittered as if to wink at her, she decided that the daft old thing must have liked the attention. McGonagall found herself relieved, she too felt that the recent graduates were not ready for the career world quite yet, having had not only their final year of study lost to the war, but the years before that tarnished by looming threats and incompetent bumblers. Also, there was an urgent need for qualified teachers of magic, so the more the merrier, even if most of them would only use it as a springboard into something else.

You had always been a shoo-in either way, although you never got to sit your NEWTs, the honourary grades you were given were stellar, supported by fantastic results in your OWLs and overall fantastic conduct in class. The blemishes on your record from the Carrow's note-taking were wiped, leaving your record squeaky clean. You received your acceptance letter and list of supplies and felt like you were eleven again. Everyone was required to specialise in a subject, and while you'd had a couple in which you had adequate grades which you might have chosen, you went for Herbology in the end, as it was something you loved. In all honesty, you liked Professor Sprout the best and were eager to train under her.

As soon as you received your letter, you wrote to Neville. There was no doubt in your mind that he would be studying under Professor Sprout alongside you, despite not even knowing if he had applied to the program initially. He quickly confirmed this suspicion when he wrote back to you, saying he had a sneaky feeling about you as well. The two of you had become fast friends in the sixth year, both being in Advanced Herbology. You'd known each other a little here and there before that, but in this class, your friendship truly formed. The class was very small, as the interest in Advanced Herbology was low, most careers only required a decent grade in standard Herbology, so even those with interest had to prioritise other things for the sake of their future, such as Potions or Charms. There were only the two of you and a pair of Slytherin girls who, despite seeming genuinely very passionate about the subject, refused to converse with the two of you and whispered amongst themselves all the time. This was fine with both of you, as you had each other, taking time to study together, walking to and from class, and working efficiently during any pair work. The two of you had been ripped apart during the war, you had to steer clear of Hogwarts for your safety, and Neville, being intensely monitored by the Carrows at the time, refused to write to you and risk revealing your location to them, so you had been out of contact for quite a while. You wrote to him again on his birthday and had been corresponding a little since, but things felt slightly stunted. You hadn't seen each other in so long and Neville was never the best when it came to socialising.

Arriving at Hogwarts once again had been intensely bittersweet. So many good and bad memories to try and process all at once, it felt overwhelming. You'd had to step outside during the sorting but found yourself far from alone out there. So many people were broken. You apprehensively made your way over to Hermione and said hello. She pulled you into a tight hug, as you hadn't seen her for a long time either. You listened as she explained about Harry and Ron, that they didn't want to go into teaching, and though she'd explained over and over that most people that do the program don't end up teaching, they'd still refused to come. Trying to make the most of it, she tells you it'll be nice to spend time with other friends for once and you nod along. She is somehow specialising in three subjects, she'd wanted to do more of course, but it hadn't been allowed. Trust Hermione to work herself to the bone happily. You'd made it to your room later that night, a private room with an en-suite, which felt awfully fancy for Hogwarts, and settled in. Being back was an odd feeling, you could see the cracks in the stone everywhere you looked, there was pain everywhere, yet so much good to try and find.

To your complete relief, when you started your first day in the Greenhouses, things fell back into place with Neville instantly. At first, you'd greeted him with a hug, which had been awkward as he hadn't been expecting it, but very pleasant once he figured out what was going on. Soon after this though, as Professor Sprout set you her first task (to prepare some plants for her third years), things were back to as they were, perfect. You worked together well, talking and laughing easily, and though occasionally the chat went sour and the mood fell, this was happening with everyone lately, a byproduct of the war, there was so little to talk about that wasn't tarnished that it was a wonder the two of you were able to laugh as much as you were. Neither of the two girls from advanced Herbology were there, and although this initially saddened you both, you conceded that there could be many reasons for it. There weren’t many Slytherin returners, there never had been, but after the war especially, the turnout was pathetic. Most Slytherins avoided their peers after the war for fear of ostracism, which was fair as people had some pretty bad opinions on them but sad because there were several Slytherins who hadn’t been on the wrong side of history who were still facing hostility.

The course was a lot of independent study of assigned texts and essay-writing, but all day on a Tuesday and half a day on a Thursday, the two of you were in the smaller greenhouse behind the ones for teaching, working on various projects, which also sometimes required your attention out of teaching hours. This greenhouse was set aside initially for research purposes at Sprout’s predecessor's request, but now was being used to train those in the higher education program. Despite this greenhouse being smaller than the two nearer the grounds, it was still fairly large and complex. Upon entering, you came into a little cloakroom, where you would have to don your aprons and gloves before entering, with a sink in the corner for washing up when leaving and entering. The next room was the main growing area, growing various plants that weren’t dangerous but were still perhaps best kept out of the reach of the younger students. There was a long wooden workbench in the middle of the room for potting and taking notes and whatever else you might need to do. Off of the opposite end of this room, there were three doors, one that led to a small room which was always kept humid and at tropical temperatures, one which was always kept cool and dry and one lockable room in which more dangerous plants were kept, such as venomous tentacula or fanged geraniums, only to be accessed with Professor Sprout supervising.

Professor Sprout would only tutor the two of you on Thursday, so with the exception of the first few weeks, the two of you were entirely alone from 9 am to 4 pm on a Tuesday. Although it sounded a little salacious when you told friends, the truth was that most Tuesdays you were both too busy for anything to happen. Not that anything would of course, but certain assumptions were made when people heard you were alone together for hours with what they assumed was an easy subject. Mostly your days were full of tending to the plants, having to frequently refer to your notes for how each should be cared for (how much water? what temperature should the water be? do they require singing to?), observing any plants that were the subjects of your essays and preparing plants so they would be safe for lessons with younger year groups.

It’s a Tuesday like any other. Neville is carefully planting some seeds across the workbench from where you’re delicately pruning a particularly active flitterbloom bush, setting the clippings aside to send to the potions department later. One of Neville’s research subjects is observing what methods of growth acceleration work the best and cause the least damage to the plants they’re applied to. He has been planting, growing and replanting dittany over and over for weeks now, but was still gathering more data as he came across more and more methods to test, and each had to be tested several times over to rule out external factors.

Your research was on the merits and drawbacks of pruning, and which plants took best and worst to the practice. Pruning was useful as it allowed more ingredients to be obtained from individual plants for potioneering purposes, but generally was thought to be harmful to the overall health of the plant. You were attempting to write a definitive list of which of the 25 most common plants used in potions could be pruned and which couldn’t, which to your surprise had hardly been researched before as the belief of its harmfulness had permeated the field since 1870 and most Herbologists had steered clear of it since. Your research seemed to be proving it wasn’t nearly as harmful as thought.

The two of you chat idly as Neville uses a pipette to apply various growth potions to the soil of his newly planted seeds and you carefully measure the regrowth of a stem of the flitterbloom bush that you pruned a few weeks ago, struggling as the stem swayed about.

“I can’t believe Hermione talked Ron and Harry into actually joining the course next term,” Neville hums, extracting exactly 5 millilitres of potion from a bottle with his pipette. You scoff.

“For real this time? They keep saying that yet nothing ever comes of it,” you shake your head, scribbling down your measurement on the parchment beside you.

“Yes, really, two new rooms have appeared in the boys' dorms with their names on them, if Hogwarts knows, it must really be happening,” his tongue sticks out slightly between his teeth as he concentrates on dropping the liquid right in the middle of the little pot. Not wanting to throw his research, you wait until he’s done to reply.

“Perhaps Harry and Ron don’t even know it themselves,” you joke, making Neville chuckle.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the castle decided it for them,” he carefully pushes the cork back into the top of the potion bottle. “The castle is quite odd lately, perhaps it has whatever its equivalent of brain damage is from the war, it’s acting much more blatantly,”

“How so?” you tilt your head in his direction, soothing your finger over the agitated stem that you just had to hold taut for measuring.

“I’m sure you’ve heard all the stories of people getting stuck in rooms with the people they like, doors literally disappearing until they confess or otherwise!” Neville laughs, carefully moving his pots back to their designated spot on the windowsill. With his back turned, you can’t help but glance at the door despite yourself, wondering if it’s still there. It is. You quickly avert your eyes from the door as he turns back toward you. “It’s why there’s suddenly all these couples popping up, sure the castle has always been a little cheeky, but never so obvious before, it all started with the higher education wing appearing overnight and it’s seemingly been madness since,” he shakes his head, picking up another batch of pots containing little sprouts at various heights that he has to measure.

“It’s sweet how many people have liked each other and not even known… has it always been people who like each other stuck together?” you ask, stroking your quill, feeling the soft tufts beneath your fingers.

“As far as I’ve heard, each time it’s happened it’s ended well,” Neville shrugs, rifling through his bag for his measuring tape. You glance at the door again, seeing it still there. Unrequited, you figure, that door will stay right where it is.

“I wonder where the brain of the castle is if it even has such a thing… it is sentient in some ways, so there must be an equivalent right?” you ponder as he loudly removes his books from his bag and thuds them onto the workbench.

“The room of requirement? For some reason that comes to mind… a fire in your brain can’t be good,” he chuckles, his voice slightly strained as he peers under the table for the offending measuring tape.

“You can borrow mine,” you suggest softly as he comes up with nothing.

“No it’s fine, you need it,” he waves his hand dismissively, standing up from his stool. “I’ll fetch mine from my room, I’m fairly certain I know exactly where it is on my desk, can’t believe I forgot it again,” he grumbles the last part to himself. “Be back in 15, watch my plants,” he smiles, although you can tell from his sheepish look that he’s embarrassed to have forgotten something yet again. Luckily, you could head back to fetch things at any time at your level, no longer having to ask to go to the toilet or anything like that. There was no one here to ask. You smile back, watching as he enters the cloakroom. A few moments later, you see his heavily blurred figure heading up the hill through the heavily rippled glass of the greenhouse windows. In the newfound quiet, you return to your work, hearing only the spray of simulated rain in the tropical growing room.

Finally finished with the flitterbloom, you stand to retrieve your next plant, a valerian bush, for pruning. As you move to stand and step forward, you feel an odd pressure at your ankle. Stepping forward anyway, you realise too late that your foot is hooked on a support between the legs of your stool, sending both you and the stool off balance and toppling over toward the room-length counter that holds all the various plants. Reflexively, your body twists and your arms come up to shield your head as you thud loudly into the solid wood surface, causing a choir of wobbling pots, luckily with no ensuing crash of broken terracotta, you had to count your blessings somewhere. A dull pain throbs through your body, starting from the side that crashed against the counter. Thud! A yelp rips from you as the stool, still twined with your leg, falls onto your thigh. Luckily, it is only light and will leave a small bruise at most, your side colliding with the counter on the other hand…. You shut your eyes tight, feeling utterly embarrassed about what just happened despite being alone. You weren’t normally this clumsy and you were sure you looked a mess, an undignified heap on the floor, too shocked to stand up or even open your eyes yet. In the permeating silence, you sit on the cold stone floor and try not to cry, from the shock more than the pain.

A violent sneeze overtakes your body, the action of it hurting your side. You sniff and cough, dust seemingly surrounding you. You must have jostled some old dusty plants that hadn’t been touched in a while when you collided with the surface. Surrendering to the coughs and sniffs that wracked through your pained body, you wait it out until the dust subsides, grabbing your bruised side as you double over with violent sneezes and sputters. Finally, a deep breath of clean air, you sag against the counter and try to gather yourself now you can breathe properly once more.

“It was exactly where I thought it was…” The door from the cloakroom creaks open in the silence as Neville enters, clutching his measuring tape. “I can be so scatterbrained,” he huffs, his eyes sweeping the room at the height he expects you to be. In embarrassment your eyes squeeze tighter, not wanting him to see the mess you’d gotten yourself into. Upon not seeing you, he glances around for any evidence you might be in one of the back rooms, though not thinking of a reason you would be.

“Down here,” you squeak, your voice hoarse from coughing. The words itch your throat and you splutter slightly once more as he rounds the workbench and spots you on the ground. You give a sheepish smile, finally having opened your eyes. It’s painfully obvious from your stool-adorned leg what happened, you just hope he doesn’t think any less of you. He shouldn’t, he has a reputation for being clumsy himself, but you can’t help but worry. “I fell,” you rasp pathetically.

“Are you alright?” he surges toward you and kneels, immediately examining your head for any bumps, rubbing over your scalp gently. The action makes your cheeks heat up, but you try to ignore it.

“I’m okay, I landed on my side,” you reply as he carefully removes the stool from around your leg and stands it back up beside the workbench. His arms wrap around you and he carefully lifts you to stand, you yelp as the movement stretches your side and he shushes you gently.

“It’s alright, there we go… just—,” he holds you steady until you’re stable on your feet. When he lets go of you, it feels oddly painful deep in your stomach, but you brush that off.

“Thank you,” you whisper shyly.

“Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?” he asks, bringing his hand up to feel your skull once more, worrying over whether you might have been badly injured. You lean slightly into his hand without meaning to.

“No I promise, it was just my side and my thigh,” you insist, inwardly wishing he’d brush his hand against those spots to check them. For a moment his hand moves like he might, but he stops himself.

“If you’re sure,” he inspects you once more, hovering behind you as you sit back down on the stool, trying to brush past this whole incident. “Can I grab your plant for you?” he offers. “Which were you going for?” you want to complain, but his eyes are wide and earnest and you know he wants to help.

“The valerian… and could you pop the flitterbloom back for me?” you request, hesitantly testing the tender skin where the stool collided with your thigh, wincing at the throb of pain that followed your touch. Neville dutifully returns the flitterbloom to the counter, then places the valerian bush before you. Behind you, you hear him gently pushing some of the pots that had moved when you smashed into the counter back into place. You flush and keep your head down, pretending to inspect the valerian bush but not being able to focus. Your brain feels a little fogged up, you assume from the shock of the fall. Not wanting to alarm Neville in any way, you grab your tape measure and pretend to measure the leaf regrowth. He quietly moves around the workbench, bringing his pots over to your side of the bench and sitting down beside you to resume his work, his brows furrowed in concern for you. “Really, I’m okay,” you chuckle, but the weakness of your voice does little to reassure him.

“It’s better if I sit here, just in case something happens,” he says, more firmly than he usually says anything. That side of him was new since the war, this ability to stick up for himself in smaller situations. He’d always known how to stick up for the greater good, but little things like this, he would allow himself to be walked all over, too scared of losing a friend. Now that he has more confidence, he’s not so afraid to dispute his nearest and dearest, knowing you’re unlikely to end your friendship with him over this. And if you did, it would be weird and not his fault anyway. The tone of voice is also on the newer side and it stirs something in your belly.

You sit side by side working on your respective projects. Well, Neville is working, you’re more just going through the motions while your mind hovers elsewhere, not allowing you to focus on what you’re meant to be doing. Maybe you were concussed… but you hadn’t hit your head during the fall, so what was wrong? You take a few deep breaths, trying to slow your heart which still seems to be beating slightly fast. Slowly but surely, your body starts to feel a little warm. You glance to make sure the door to the tropical room hasn't opened as your cardigan starts to feel a little stuffy. No matter where you look in the room, you can’t find any source of excess heat. A puff of breath breaches your lips, you’re growing uncomfortable now, the heat only seems to rise and rise. With great unnecessary difficulty, you wrestle yourself free of your cardigan, throwing the wretched thing on the ground beside you with a grunt. Neville gives you a confused look, but not yet seeing anything obviously wrong with you, returns to his measurements. There is relief from the warmth that was engulfing you, but only for ten minutes at most, as soon you are sweltering once more. An awful voice at the back of your head tries to convince you to throw off all of your clothes, but you keep it together, merely squirming in your seat, rubbing your thighs together to try and quell the growing ache in your belly that your mind isn’t quite registering yet. In a last-ditch effort, you sip some water from your lukewarm water bottle, the relief it provides is even shorter than before. Your head whips around now, searching fruitlessly once more for the source of this despicable heat, but finds nothing. Neville is unfazed beside you, still wearing his sweater and looking perfectly comfortable. The only thing you can think of is that Neville must be radiating the heat, as nothing else could explain your sudden discomfort. You reach your hand out toward him, trying to gauge if it gets warmer the closer it gets to his side. This finally catches his attention and when he looks up, he’s met with your flushed clammy face and dilated pupils.

“Whoa! Is everything alright?” he sputtered, leaning back slightly as if worried you’re contagious. This upsets you and you let out an unseemly whine.

“I’m hot,” you huff, pushing your hair back from your face to get more cool air on your skin. “Really hot,” Neville’s eyes brush over you for a moment as he considers just how hot you are, before promptly snapping himself out of it.

“You do look a little… feverish,” he agrees, reaching out and touching the back of his hand to your forehead. You lean forward into the touch, moaning softly. Your skin is burning and slightly tacky with sweat, which makes Neville frown deeply. How could you have suddenly developed such a terrible fever? He pulls his hand back, but you immediately whine and claw at his arm to pull his hand back. Too baffled to protest, he lets you pull his hand to your cheek and watches you lean against it happily. He gently runs his thumb over your cheekbone before catching himself. “Are you alright?” he enquires once more, keeping his voice soothing.

“Don’t stop touching me,” you pout, looking up at him through your lashes with a look that is wholly inappropriate for an academic premises. He swallows.

“Wha-what?” he stammers, watching as you nuzzle against his hand.

“It helps the heat… don’t stop,” you whimper, reaching out to try and pull him closer by his sweater, but not being strong or focused enough to do it. This failure pulls another whine from you. Neville’s mind reels completely and he has to look away from you to compose himself, though he keeps your cheek cradled in his palm. What was going on with you? Were you ill? His eyes find the spot where he’d found you on the floor just earlier in his attempts to avoid the sultry unexplainable look you were giving him. “I need you to touch me,” you mewl, making him shiver.

“I’m not sure that’s–” he cuts himself off when his eyes land on the plant on the counter above where you fell. Lamprocapnos libidinosus, also known as the dripping heart, a magical relative of the bleeding heart flower in the muggle world. A common ingredient in lust potions and aphrodisiacs, highly dangerous in the wrong hands due to the potent amorous effects of its spores. Neville vaguely remembers Professor Sprout's warnings that one of the PhD students was being allowed to grow it for research and to steer completely clear of it. A warning he’s sure you would have headed if you hadn’t been tumbling toward it. Even from afar, he notices a couple of burst spore pods. “Oh no…” he mumbles to himself, dropping his hand from your cheek. You immediately protest but he stops you short. “When you fell… you didn’t happen to breathe in any dust, did you?” his voice shakes slightly, this cannot be happening to you. He always thought they shouldn’t have the plant growing in this greenhouse, even if only experienced herbologists were allowed in. Accidents happened as he knew all too well, and now his vague fears had become a biting reality.

“Yeah, why?” your voice is soft and sweet as you paw at him, trying to get him to hug you, or presumably something more. Neville flushes brightly and shoots upright, making a mad dash for his textbooks, still on the workbench from when he’d been searching through his bag. You wail at his absence, feeling the heat that had reduced to a low simmer return to a full boil. “Please…” you sob at him, not even knowing why you want what you want. “Just hold me, comfort me,” The look in your eye has him breaking, and if he remembers what little he’s read about the plant, you must be rather uncomfortable right now. He returns to your side and allows you to cling to his arm, bumping your head into his shoulder like a loving cat, while he frantically searches for the information he needs to help you. After several panicked flick-throughs, he locates the page.

Lamprocapnos libidinosus; also known as the Dripping Heart or the Flower of Lust.

At the top of the page is information entirely useless to this cause, the best season to plant, how much light is needed, etcetera, but finally Neville finds what he’s looking for under the ‘uses’ section. It’s tough to focus on reading when you’re practically trying to get under his sweater with him, pushing the knit material slightly up his side, your fingertips brushing his abdomen and making him jolt. He pushes your hand away but pulls you into a hug to silence your outcries, which you’re more than happy to sink into. He’s hugged you plenty of times so he pretends this is perfectly normal as he wills his brain to digest what's in front of him on the page. It’s hard to keep this pretending up as he can hear you sniffing him and moaning deeply at the smell of his shower gel, mixed with just a hint of sweat, which in this state only fuels your arousal, acting as a pheromone, worsening your need.

He skims the section frantically. Inhalation of the spores will lead to overwhelming feelings of lust even in small doses, however, the dose may affect who this lust is directed toward. Smaller doses will only worsen lust toward people already lusted after by the infected person, while larger doses will cause these feelings of lust to latch onto whoever is around, no matter prior relationships. The infected person will pursue their object of affection at any cost, they will be unable to focus on anything but the lust that has overtaken them. These feelings of lust, if left untreated, can cause extreme discomfort in the infected person, high fevers, intense symptoms of arousal (such as fluid secretions), shivers, brain fog and other symptoms varying by person and dose. The only way to cure the infected person of these symptoms and return them to full faculties is to have them reach climax.

It seems that you have chosen him as the object of your affections. Neville looks down at you as you hug him tight, continuously trying to slip your hand beneath his jumper. Out of selfish curiosity, he heads for the plant to try and determine how large of a dose you got and whether you may have already experienced feelings of lust toward him before the effects of the plant. When he moves away, you practically sob.

“Please don’t!” you wail, diving for him and into his arms once more. For now, you seemed to be mostly content just being held in his arms, and it’s clear you find it painful when separated from him for even a moment, so Neville has to relent. He delicately lifts you, and although having you wrap your legs around his hips hadn’t been a part of his plan, he supposes it does help keep you steady. He blushes brightly as he walks over to inspect the flower. He’s never held anyone like this, so intimately. Your skirt rides up where your legs wrap around him and he has to tear his eyes away before his thoughts become too inappropriate. You like the sight as much as he does. “You’re so strong,” you purr in his ear, your voice much lower than normal. He shivers and you feel it, the knowledge you’re having some effect on him overtakes your lust-addled brain.

“Th-thank you, I’ve been exercising a lot since the war,” he mumbles, counting all the burst pods on the plant. He counts five, but he’s not sure if that’s considered a large dose or not. Probably, but the pods do look rather small.

“Mmm, it’s so hot…” you purr, trying to wriggle against him. Neville’s face turns red and he practically drops you, but holds you steady so you don’t fall once more once your feet touch the ground.

“Don’t say stuff like that!” he yelps.

“It’s true,” you pout. “I need you,” you try to hop up into his arms again but he holds you firmly on the ground, practically shaking. Really, this should’ve been a dream come true for him, he’d had feelings for you practically since the day the two of you met, but he felt disgusted with himself for every wave of excitement that passed over him. You were burning up, your cheeks brightly flushed, a deep ache at the pit of your belly and an ever-growing wetness in your underwear. All you could think about was how it might feel to have Neville soothing the fire inside you with deep strong thrusts, you moan aloud, if you focus enough you can almost feel it. “I bet you’re big, I bet you’d fill me up so well,” you murmur, looking up at him seductively.

“I- Merlin…” Now Neville feels overheated, he tries to push you away a little but you aren’t letting him. The image of filling you up won’t leave his head no matter how much he commands it to. It doesn’t help that you’re now trying your best to reach his jaw to kiss it.

“Please…” you beg once more. “I need it so badly…” his resistance crumbles for a moment and his hands drop from your sides, allowing you to rush forward and attach your lips to his jaw. His eyes slip shut and he whimpers as you hold him close and lavish his neck and jaw with attention. His arms wrap around you, hands gently skimming your back as you continue to pepper him with kisses. “Please,” you whisper against his skin, your hand dropping to the buckle of his belt. The feeling of you tugging at his belt makes his eyes shoot open. He realises in a sudden flood of shame what he’s allowed you to do. You’ll hate him for this once you’re back to normal. He grabs your shoulders harshly and pushes you away. You squeak as he sits you on one of the stools, your eyes filling with tears at the rejection. You’d been so close to what you needed, and now with this newfound distance from him, you were in pain once more, a horrible throb in your stomach.

“Listen to me,” he breathes shakily. “We can’t do this, you’ll regret it as soon as it’s over,”

“No, I–”

“You’re not in your right mind, you don’t know what you actually want,” he asserts again, reminding himself more than anything. He takes a deep breath and thinks. The only way to cure you according to the textbook was for you to reach climax. In colloquial stories about the plant, he’d always heard that orgasm would have to be reached with the help of another person, but the book didn’t stipulate this, maybe this was the answer. You could do it alone. His cheeks were flushed bright red as he opened his mouth once more. “What you need to do is… er… I’m going to take you into the cloakroom, alright?” he swallows, cautiously pulling you up from the stool onto your feet. You would need to sit somewhere to do this presumably and sitting on the stool or the workbench in here could lead to falling and disaster all over again. The best place he could think of was the bench in the cloakroom where people could sit to remove their shoes. You would have the wall to lean against and wouldn’t be sitting on the cold stone floor. Beneath you, he lays out a towel and then helps you to sit down on top of it. The towel was intended to make you more comfortable, but he considers with a blush that it might be necessary for other reasons also. He clears his throat. “Now, you have to… er… get yourself… uhm…” he can’t seem to make himself say the words. With a soft tug at his sleeve, you pull him to kneel between your legs, your faces nearly level given how much height he has on you.

Before he can stop you, you kiss him. His brain stops functioning for a moment, all he can do is wrap his arms around you and kiss back, so intoxicated by the way your lips move against his. He didn’t have much experience with kissing, but there was no doubt this was the best kiss of his life. You moan against his mouth and it sets all his nerve-endings alight, making him push even closer to you in desperation. For you, the kiss is a sweet relief, cool water washing over your overheated body, but even so, you need more. There’s an incessant throbbing between your legs, a horrible feeling of emptiness that you know only Neville could fill. Trying to urge him on, you brush your tongue against his lips, hoping for entry. You’re allowed in for one tantalising moment before he pulls away with a start when your tongues graze against each other. The whine that rips from your throat is downright pathetic, but you don’t have the faculties to care at that moment. You look at him through your lashes, watching as he fights to regain his composure, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Never in his life has he felt as weak as in this moment, rendered so malleable by his desire for you. The two of you are friends. How will you react when you come back to normal and discover he let you kiss him in this state? That he’s allowed his selfishness to get in the way of what’s right? He jumps to his feet, ignoring your cries and protests as much as it pains him to do so.

“Look, the textbook says that the only way to cure you of this is… a uh… a climax,” he blushes and chokes on the words slightly. “I’m going to keep watch outside that nobody comes in, all you have to do is… you know…”

“Get myself off?” you supply in a sultry voice.

“Yes, exactly,” he clears his throat, turning to leave you alone.

“Nev, please… I need your help… I don’t want to do it alone,” you plead, your voice soft and needy.

“No, you can do it alo– oh… wow,” he exhales heavily as his eyes reach you once more. In an effort to persuade him, you’d pulled up the hem of your skirt and spread your legs, revealing your thighs and your soaked panties to him. The cold air makes you shiver but doesn’t actually cool you down in the slightest. It takes a great deal of strength to keep Neville from lunging himself at you. You look positively delicious, the wetness of your panties allowing him an outline of your most intimate areas, the skin of your thighs soft and plump and enticing. If he was even a slightly feebler man, he’d already be on his knees, devouring you through the thin, damp fabric. Just imagining how you might taste has him weak in the knees. “Oh Merlin…” he breathes, feeling his erection, which has been slightly present for the last half-hour or so, straining painfully against the zip of his jeans. The needy seductive look on your face almost breaks him, he takes a step toward you, causing you to light up, before he stops himself and just stares. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, unable to help himself. He watches you squirm in response.

“Please, I need you,” you beg, unbuttoning your shirt as he observes. The garment falls to the ground, leaving you in your plain bra. Neville doesn’t seem to mind how simple the garment is in the slightest, his breath hitching as you reveal yourself.

“I really shouldn’t” he tries again, but he cannot rip his eyes from your body.

“I can’t do it alone, I feel so empty,” you whimper, spreading your legs further. “Please, fill me, I need your cock,” Neville nearly faints at those words, at the pleading way you say them, at how desired you’re making him feel. His legs carry him forward before his brain can catch up and he sits beside you on the bench. His brain finally does catch up just in time to stop you from sitting in his lap.

“Maybe I can help a little, but we can’t… I can’t uh… I can’t ‘fill’ you,” he gives in, despite knowing he probably shouldn’t. He had heard many times that another person was needed to reverse the effects of the Dripping Heart, so it was likely he did have to help, given the fact you hardly seemed satisfied with the idea of getting off alone. He could still be as much of a gentleman about it as possible. He knew the both of you had limited sexual experience, he himself was a virgin and though he wasn’t sure about you, he would guess you were in the same boat or had only had one partner before. With both of you having so little experience, he didn’t want to go all the way, as for you it would likely be regrettable. You plead with him softly, trying to climb into his lap still, despite his strong arms holding you at bay. Each plea weakens his resolve and he knows you know it because you’re babbling now.

“Please, please Nev, I need you inside me, to fuck me, I’ve never needed anything so badly, please, I know you want me too,” he deserved a medal for being able to resist you for this long, most other boys would have given in the second the girl of their dreams said something even remotely flirty, but he was somehow just barely resisting your pleas to have sex with him.

“Sit down,” he implores you, and you quickly obey, batting your lashes at him. “I’m going to help you, okay? But you need to stay still and just… take what I give you, don’t ask for more, okay?” These words seem to excite you, you squirm and nod, eagerly allowing him to spread your legs. His shaking hand rests on your bare thigh for a moment as he takes a few composing breaths. He couldn’t believe what he was about to do, it was something he had dreamed of incessantly, but now it felt like it could ruin his life if he wasn’t careful. You tug softly at his arm, trying to get his hand where you want it, bucking against the air.

“Please…” you sob, clenching around nothing as you look at his large hand against your thigh. He shushes you gently.

“I’m about to, just give me a second,” he stammers, trying to sort through his brain for any information he has on how to do this. He averts his eyes, figuring you wouldn’t have wanted him to see you so intimately, even if the damp fabric of your panties had already given him a pretty good look. Slowly, he places his hand on the apex of your thigh, shivering at the damp warmth he can feel radiating from your core. You mewl. Despite the pain in his neck from the position, he keeps his eyes locked on the wall behind you, pointedly ignoring how arousing the sounds you made were. Gathering his courage, he carefully slips the tips of his fingers past the fabric of your underwear and groans aloud at how wet you are. Your nectar gathers on his fingers and for a moment he just gently swipes them up and down to gather as much as possible, hearing your desperate moans as you lean your head on his shoulder. He never knew a woman could be this wet, and sure perhaps the flower was exacerbating it, but the thought still had him unendingly aroused. The angle wasn’t quite right, so he removed his hand, whining in unison with you at the separation. Your essence dripping down his fingers was like a siren song, trying to lure him to lick his fingers clean and finally get a taste of you. How could he ever explain that to you later? To his infinite regret, he doesn’t bring them to his mouth, sliding his hand into your panties once more, now from the top. This angle works a lot better, your hips immediately buck as his fingers slide over your clit.

“There, please, right there,” you beg, and he’s glad for the advice. A little unsure but determined (no point backing out now, at least he might be able to cure you), he relocates the spot that makes you shiver and whine. Your reaction tells you exactly when he’s found the little bundle of nerves once more and he takes a deep breath, before gently beginning to circle his fingers around it. It’s something he remembers hearing in the common room, and it seems it was good advice as soon you’re panting in his ear like a dog in heat, mewling his name softly. He can’t believe the noises you’re making, the sinful way you’re saying his name, it’s like perfect torture, it takes a lot out of him not to look. “Yes, fuck… Nev…” you whine, feeling the syrupy pleasure coursing through your body. “Yes, yes! More!”

“More?” he croaks, unsure what you mean by that. As a guess, he tries circling faster, and though you definitely seem to like it, your hips canting up into his touch, he can feel you shaking your head against his shoulder.

“Need you inside,” you cry, making his cock twitch in his jeans.

“We- we can’t do- that,” he stutters, although he’s never wanted to more in his life. He wholeheartedly agrees with your pained sob in response, but he knows it’s for the best. “How about… er… my fingers? Inside?” he gulps, flustered that he’s even in a situation where he can ask such a thing.

“O-okay,” you whimper. Neville fumbles around for a moment, trying to figure out where to put his fingers. It would be much easier if he could see what he was doing, but he’s already decided he shouldn’t. The fact that he touched you will no doubt be mortifying enough once you’re back to normal. With a little guidance from you, he very slowly and cautiously presses two fingers into you, making you gasp in pleasure. You’re wet and warm and tight around his fingers and he practically drools imagining how you might feel around his cock, almost cumming on the spot just thinking about it. Merlin, he was such a pathetic virgin, maybe he should be taking the chance and losing his virginity now, but it just doesn’t feel right when he doesn’t know how you’ll feel about it afterwards. He presses his forehead to the cool wall to calm himself down and prevent him from looking at how you took his fingers in, withdrawing them just slightly and then pressing them back in. The sound that comes from you makes Neville’s heart skip, so lewd and sinful and full of ecstasy. He wants desperately to kiss you, but he knows he shouldn’t.

At your renewed pleading, he starts up a steady pace, thrusting his fingers in and out the way he wished he could with his cock, feeling filthy for even thinking it. The wet sound that each thrust made, accompanied by your wanton moans makes him feel like he’s the one who has been infected by the flower, so crazed with desire. Could there have been some pollen on you that he inhaled when he helped you up? It didn’t seem impossible, but he was also a young man, they weren’t exactly notorious for being level-headed when it came to sex. You lean heavily against him, gasping against his shoulder at each press of his fingers, the coil in your belly twisting tighter than it ever had before. You mumble incoherent pleas and he simply shushes you, not trusting himself not to give in to you if you keep talking.

“Thumb,” you breathe between vulgar moans and though it takes his sluggish brain a moment, he realises what you want. He presses his fingers deeper, fumbling a moment before his thumb grazes your sensitive bud, making you sob in pleasure. His large deft hand pleasures you like it was made for it, all you can think of is the bliss he’s giving you as he hits all the right spots over and over. Your hand flies up, nails digging into his arm as you realise you’re dangerously close to exploding, despite the bite of your nails, he doesn’t let up his pace, too addicted to the sound of your moans to slow down now. “Nev… I’m–” you cut yourself off with a shout, pleasure shooting through your body like you were struck by lighting. Your muscles tense and tremble, your eyes rolling back in your skull, walls contracting around his fingers hard. The pleasure goes through you in strong waves, drowning you in it, not allowing you respite from shivers and moans for even a second as it wracks through you. You’d never felt anything so intense and all-consuming before. Neville feels your essence gush onto his fingers and though he should be relieved it’s over, he finds himself disappointed that he has to stop doing this, hearing those bewitching sounds. Gently, he removes his hand from you and guides your skirt back down your thighs so he can finally look toward you again. His fingers are covered in your essence, creamy and mouth-watering, the only thing that’s able to stop him from having a taste is your hand still clinging to his arm. He waits for you to gather your breath, silently smug he was able to help, but also petrified of what happens next.

“Are you alright?” he asks delicately, shifting his erection away from your back now that you might actually register it. You open your eyes and look up at him, which immediately makes him frown. Your pupils are still almost comically dilated, your cheeks still pink and clammy, and though it could just be from the aftermath of your orgasm, he immediately knows something is still wrong.

“I feel better… but not entirely,” you whisper and Neville bites his lip. Great. He stands to wash his hands in the sink, and during that brief period of absence, he watches you become consumed by the effects of the flower again, pleading for him to come back. He splashes water on his face and takes a deep breath. You had reached climax, he may not be an expert in female orgasms but he knew what he just saw and felt, so what was wrong? Was the plant in the greenhouse genetically modified in some way? Would he have to call Professor Sprout to ask for help? How exactly could he explain that he’d already given you an orgasm and it hadn’t worked? Looking back, he should have taken you to Madam Pomfrey the second he’d realised what had happened to you, but he thought you would have found it too embarrassing. Now things would be infinitely more embarrassing for the both of you if you sought out help. Lesson learned, just because he’d survived a war it didn’t mean he could deal with anything life threw at him alone. He feels you approaching from behind and turns around, allowing you to sink into his arms. “Stay with me,” you plead, holding him close.

“Okay,” he sighs, because what else can he do now? “I’m here,” He caresses your bare back and tries to forget what he just did to you, but he can’t. “I’m sorry,” he huffs, kissing your forehead without thinking. “I’ve made a mess of things, we did all that and you’re not even cured,”

“Why won’t you fuck me?” you whimper. Your boldness doesn’t even surprise him anymore.

“Because it’s not what you really want, you’d never forgive me once things got back to normal, I was just the only person around for the pollen to latch onto,”

“But that’s what the pollen wants, maybe that’s the only way to cure it, I don’t just want an orgasm, I want you inside me,” you suggest. He’s glad you’re slightly more lucid from the relief of your climax, but you’re still not entirely yourself, your voice slow and sluggish like wading through water when trying to formulate logical thoughts. He can’t deny the way his cock, which had softened slightly, was coming back to life at your words. “Please…” you nuzzle against his chest. “I promise you, I want this even when I’m not… whatever I am right now,” you chuckle. He sighs. He doesn’t quite believe you but he’s running out of ideas of what to do, and your friendship is presumably ruined anyway. Maybe he’s making excuses for himself, but it feels more and more like there’s only one thing for it. He prays you’ll remember how much you begged and how hard he tried to be a gentleman and not hate him, even if you avoid him for the rest of your life after this. “I need you,” you whisper and he gives in.

“Forgive me for this,” he pleads, before lifting you into his arms and moving back over to the bench, sitting down and letting you straddle his lap. You smile at him softly, fluttering your lashes. At least the orgasm before made you a little calmer and more agreeable. If nothing else, if he gets you to orgasm again, you might be even closer to normal. He pulls you to his chest taking a moment to embrace you for what he worries may be the last time. You nuzzle into him eagerly. “I’m a virgin, you know?” he mumbles into your shoulder, not knowing why he feels the need to say it. Those words seem to embolden you, you paw at his chest.

“I promise it’ll be good, please…” you purr. He wonders how you might have reacted if you were your regular self. Would you have found it sweet? Would you have pitied him? You probably knew, everyone knew, but you never mentioned it to him. He allows you to pull off his sweater, lifting his arms and watching you discard it across the room. When you lean in to kiss him, he doesn’t even pretend to put up a fight, holding the back of your neck and kissing you back, pouring all his unspoken feelings into it. He tries to keep it slow and gentle, but you’re far too eager, and the heat starts mounting fast. He pushes away all his doubts, telling himself he can enjoy this, or else it would be even more of a waste. The t-shirt that was under his sweater is next to go, as he pulls away to allow you to rid him of it, he studies your face, still flushed and feverish, but so beautiful, full of lust. His hands fall, one to your waist and the other to your cheek, pulling you back in, pressing his lips to yours and sliding his tongue between them. You moan against his mouth, whimpering a soft sound, a thank you or a plea for more, it’s unclear. He groans back in agreement with whatever it was you intended to say. Your tongues languidly swirl together, caressing one another affectionately. Feeling your warm hands on his bare chest makes him shiver, feeling as you explore the newfound definition of his abdomen, only light, but still a change. In turn, he presses a few kisses to your chest, shakily reaching up to rid you of your bra. It falls away and his cock twitches at the sight of your bare breasts, his breath hitching. He could have never hoped he could see you like this, could have never hoped for any of this, and yet here you were, whining and guiding his hands under your skirt. He runs his hands up and down your thighs as he kisses and sucks at the supple skin of your breasts, giving himself some time to enjoy this despite your hurry. Under different circumstances, he would have liked to have left a mark and asked you to give him one in return, but he knew this was crossing a line as if a million lines hadn’t already been crossed today. At this thought he changes his mind and sucks a tiny mark into the centre of your chest that he’s sure will fade in a few hours, staring at the light pink mark a little wistfully. “Need you inside…” you whine, despite enjoying his affection. There’d be time for that later, but right now it felt completely imperative for him to be inside of you, fearing you might explode if he didn’t give you what you wanted.

“Alright, I get it,” he sighs, placing a few more lingering kisses on the swell of your breasts. Your hands find his belt buckle and without him stopping you this time, they make quick work of it. There’s an awkward shuffle as he helps you lower his jeans around his ankles, but once you’ve settled back in his lap, you take in the sight before you. He looks big even through his boxers, just like you predicted, thick and slightly longer than average. Just the thought of him inside you makes you moan and claw off your skirt with no regard for whether it survives the encounter. Neville’s overheated back presses against the cool wall as he leans back to watch you. He doesn’t bother feeling insecure, as you look like you’ve struck gold as you drool over his length, he supposes in this state you would have been happy with anything. His hands slide up and down your sides, being gentle, taking in the sight of your body, so perfect. He wishes in the back of his mind that this won’t be the last time he sees it, but hope feels too dangerous given the circumstances. He helps you slide your panties down, groaning softly as he spots a string of arousal fluid connecting you and the fabric for a while. You want him so badly. His boxers soon follow and he hisses loudly as your hand wraps around his length. “Oh Merlin…” he whimpers, bucking his hips into your hand. “Fuck, I need you,” he parrots. The ghost of a smile crosses your face as you recognise the words as your own.

“You have me,” you whisper, shifting your hips so you’re above his cock, holding him steady as he twitches. Deep brown hooded eyes stare into yours, he can’t believe his luck. Unable to wait any longer, you sink down onto him. Neville’s eyes squeeze shut in pleasure and he grabs your hips to slow you. You feel perfect around him, warm and silky and inviting, engulfing his whole being in sickly-sweet pleasure. He pulls you close, embracing you as you moan in his ear. Slowly, he lowers you down the rest of the way until your hips are flush with his. For a moment, he simply hugs you and kisses your neck.

“Feels so good,” he pants in your ear. “So good,”

“You fill me perfectly,” you whine, squirming in his lap for friction. “So big…”

“Yeah?” he coughs, trying to sound smooth but failing, causing him to chuckle nervously. “I won’t last, I’m sorry,” he rubs his hands up and down your spine. “I wish this could last forever,” He lets go of you and leans back against the wall, his hands settling on your hips, taking a moment to admire the sight of you on top of him, him inside you. You feel him twitch within you. “Take what you want, love,” he encourages you to move. There’s no point in him trying to remain in control, all he cares about is that you reach climax, he’s bound to anyway. The nickname makes you even needier somehow, the way his voice is deep with desire. Your hands find his shoulders for purchase, eyes meeting for a moment. You’re both flushed and blissful and the look in his dark eyes shoots a jolt through you. He’s always been attractive, but to see him like this, vulnerable, needy, chest-heaving, it was something else. On his advice, you begin lifting yourself up and lowering yourself down onto his cock, moaning unabashedly with each motion. He stretches you open in the most delicious way, exactly how you’d been picturing all day, or for several years really, perfectly endowed. He relaxes and closes his eyes, groaning and whimpering as you move. Every rock of your hips stokes the flames in the both of you, sending you both toward a common end faster than you regularly might.

“Thank you,” you purr between moans. “I’ve needed this so bad,”

“I know,” he chokes out with a tired smile. “I’ve needed it too,” he gently massages the fat of your rear as you ride him, watching in bliss as he disappears inside of you over and over. Your moans rise to a fever pitch, your pace faltering slightly as your climax approaches.

“Yes! Yes!” you practically scream, all your senses heightened as you slam your hips down against him. His face scrunches up in pleasure.

“I’m going to– Ahh!” he grunts, body trembling as he releases thick ropes inside of you, whining with the aftershocks as you continue using him to chase your high. It’s so close, you can’t give up now. Neville’s hands weave into your hair, pulling your face down to his to kiss you. Your tongues meet messily as you struggle to focus on the kiss, preoccupied with your orgasm that is on the tip of your tongue. Heat pools strongly in your abdomen, and you feel the familiar ecstasy of the coil snapping in your belly. Your movement immediately ceases, walls spasming around his length as you moan loudly into his mouth, grabbing him and holding him as close as possible. Your vision whites and your brain goes blank, your whole body twitching violently. He tries his best to soothe you through it, but the pleasure isn’t allowing a single thought to form in your mind for several moments. Finally, your muscles relax and you collapse against him heavily, chest heaving with effort, skin slick with sweat. You vaguely register him removing himself from you and wiping you with a towel, but the corners of your mind are fuzzy and you just cuddle closer to him. You sit in silence for a long while and you nearly fall asleep against his shoulder when he speaks up. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” you hum. He tilts your chin up towards him.

“Open your eyes, love,” he implores softly, to which you flutter them open. He sighs a great sigh of relief, seeing your pupils shrink as they react to the light, dilated now a regular amount, and the flush on your cheeks is much less than before. “Do you still need me?” he asks.

“Don’t go,” you panic, holding him closer, but then you realise what he means. “Oh… no, all I want is to maybe have a nap,”

“Thank Merlin, I couldn’t have gone for another round,” he jokes stiltedly. You giggle, cuddling closer once more. “You don’t hate me then?” he mumbles, as if worried he will have reminded you to hate him, gently pushing some hair from your face.

“No, you… saved me,” you shrug.

“Saved seems dramatic,”

“Well, who knows what would have happened to me if you’d just run away and left me alone? You didn’t have to do what you did, but you did it for me,” you lean up to kiss his cheek. “You gave yourself to me completely, just to save me from discomfort,”

“Trust me, it was my pleasure,” he laughs nervously and you gently swat his chest. “I’d do anything for you,” he whispers, kissing your forehead with a barely contained tenderness.

“Yeah, you’ve proved that,” you grin, kissing his cheek again. “And I for you,”

“You’d have had sex with me if I’d been the one to bump into the plant?” he prompts, sliding his hand up your bare side affectionately.

“Of course, I’d have done it way sooner too, not wasted time being a ‘gentleman’,” you tease. “Thank you for that though, it was sweet of you, even if it was unnecessary because I don’t regret it one bit,” you promise him, kissing his lips tenderly. He embraces you tighter for a moment and then loosens his grip.

“We should probably leave, I bet it's past teaching hours now,” he sighs before helping you up and to dress. Your panties are well and truly ruined, so you’re forced to go commando under your skirt. Neville wraps his sweater around your hips to help prevent it from flipping up as you walk through the grounds back to the dorms. He finds it difficult to dress himself as you keep eagerly kissing him, but finally get himself presentable, only to be pulled into another kiss. It’s not desperate or lustful like before, more playful and excited, and he’s happy to accept them. “I take it you like me,” he chuckles as you hug him tight, his arms around you in return.

“Loads,” you sigh into his t-shirt.

“I do too,”

“My room? I promise we can just cuddle and sleep,” you suggest, smiling up at him.

“Hey, give me a few hours, I might be raring to go again,” he jokes.

“Well then definitely my room so I can help you out, I owe you one, don’t I?” you giggle and wink. He blushes slightly and shakes his head.

“That plant has made a monster, come on,” he takes your hand in his. “Let’s go before someone notices and starts asking questions,” he opens the door into the greenhouse, accio-ing both of your bags over, as well as the open textbook from the workbench. “Stupid inaccurate thing,” he grumbles, stuffing it in his bag. You merely giggle at his frustration. As you turn to leave, you’re met with a gleam of magic, the door to the outside of the greenhouse rematerialising. The two of you exchange a look, neither of you had realised the door was even missing amidst the whole debacle, but it must have been, or else it couldn’t have reappeared. Hogwarts had forced the two of you together, it was likely your fall hadn’t even been organic in the first place. You knew you weren’t usually so uncoordinated.

“Huh,” Neville blinks, checking that the door now works, wondering when exactly it disappeared and how he had missed it. You scoff and shake your head in disbelief before the both of you laugh earnestly.

“Hogwarts is a total perv,”

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ddragonqueenn · 3 months ago

Text

To Take Care of You

Word count: 1,280

Summary: People fade from his life as fast as crops when out of season, when confronted with the fragile mortality of those he knows now, Aventurine panics. (Or, you pass out in front of him and get nursed back to health. Badly, but helped all the same.)

Tags: Mostly fluff, but it's got a sad air to it, Aventurine carries the misery with him always, the tragedy is his appeal, reader is like an irate cat who doesn't want to be held, Aventurine is trying to be silly about how much he wants to hold reader, you're not sly bitch we know you're down bad

Notes: my beta reader said it was a fun and light read, but still goes into the emotional details that I love about him. So. Have fun

Would you consider yourself a sickly person? Not by any means, no… Sure, there's an ache when you first awake, and oftentimes your joints disagree with exertion- disagree loudly. With pain. But overall, you don't suffer from anything but being lazy, truly. The tired fog is because you yearn for bed (not from a breakfast skipped days in a row. And a lunch skipped… some days you pass on dinner, too. Definitely not), sympathy should seldom be given to those who refuse to better themselves.

Aventurine chatters as you pick at your meal, paid for by the chirping peacock across. He invited you out for a bite to eat, saying he got a bonus at work and wants to spoil his dearest friend.

…You feel just a little faint, but it's brushed off easy with a bite, “...Really? Pearl voted to keep you?” You comment; something about a trial by the other Stonehearts that Aventurine had to go through after his work trip.

“Yeah- I was shocked too!” He nods, shifting up his collar. The conversation continues, Aventurine's work stories make interesting topics- though, sometimes he must be lying, an Emanator of Nihility? THEY don't gaze at anyone…

Your legs feel strangely weak as you stand, a sudden daze blurring up your vision as the table and chair become convenient supports for your stumbling body- Aventurine guides you back to the chair, hand resting on your shoulder, “Hey- hey, friend, don't stand if you can't. How about this-” the concern fades to an salesman-like voice, though his worry remains an undertone, “I could carry you back to my car! Bridal style, nice and romantic!” He teases.

You shake your head- and quickly regret the decision. Strange, dizziness like this shouldn't last too long, and you even ate something today! But, you should be in good health, therefore, you push his hand away and force yourself to stand, “I can walk-”

A statement which is quickly proven false as you eat dirt. Or… concrete. Wood? It's hard to tell what you're now laying against, but it's certainly something more solid than how you feel. Or, how you would feel, if your consciousness didn't slip as fast as your feet.

Aventurine stares down at your limp (dead?) body, frozen with a stupid smile before he crouches down, “...Friend?” He asks, mumbling a quiet apology as he presses two fingers to your pulse, the tension leaving his shoulders as he feels a consistent and steady flow of blood just under. He sighs, standing up and tapping his foot, “Oh… what to do with you, dearest troublemaker…?”

Opting to pick you up, as he suggested earlier, Aventurine leans down and scoops you into his arms, carrying you out to his car.

He stands over your bed. Sits down. Stands. Paces. Stands. He can't hold still, worry makes him sick, but he's worried over you being sick. You're hot to the touch; Aventurine replaces the towel he's set over your forehead (ignoring the fact that he did so only 3 minutes ago, his hands need to do something), wiping off his hands before he checks his phone, rereading Ratio's advice.

His eyes scan over the words from the doctor, lowering his phone to look between the text and your limp, ill body. Aventurine grits his teeth- you've been ill, but you haven't been eating. You passed out from the lack of food, a simple cold like yours won't make a person faint, but both are mixing together to make your condition much worse.

“...Skipping meals,” the hypocrite mutters to himself, “What were you thinking…” He shakes his head, standing up to go cook something.

You wake up to the smell of… soup. Soup, an utter mountain of blankets, and the walls of your room. It's a struggle to sit up, and the second you do Aventurine practically pushes you down, “No no no- stay down, it's not good for you,” he chides, “You know what is ideal for you? Liquids, salt, and actually eating a proper meal.”

You stare at him for a minute, “...How am I supposed to eat while lying down?”

…Aventurine blinks. He reaches over to tug down the blankets with a huff, “Touché. But after you finish, lie right back down- and don't forget to drink water, and stay under all of those blankets. I'm going to leave and buy some medicine for your cold.”

You swallow a spoonful of soup, chewing on a softened potato, “...I'm not dying,” you deadpan.

“You don't know that-” He toys with his gloves, tugging them down over his hands, “A common cold is much more deadly than anyone assumes. Finish that, your body needs it.”

You resent, not quite in a fighting mood. Picking through the soup, it seems to be some pre-packaged beef broth with a mix of potatoes, carrots, chicken. No noodles, though. Granted, the only kind of noodle in the house is spaghetti. You take another spoonful as Aventurine closes the door behind him.

You could've sworn you saw his hand shake for a moment.

Aventurine drops a bag near comically filled with medicines. He hands you most of the strange remedies, even child’s cough syrup and regular cough syrup- which you try to push off, before hacking up some of your own phlegm.

Sorting through his medicine, you end up taking a painkiller, the aforementioned cough syrup, and he manages to talk you into an antihistamine. Aventurine smiles, leaning back and cleaning his hands like he just finished with hard labor, “So, feeling better?”

“I just took them.” You lean over to grab your water bottle, taking another sip. Aventurine practically deflates, crossing his arms, before leaning forward to fuss with the way the blankets sit over your lap.

He brushes a gloved hand down your hair, smoothing it down, “You can't fault me for wanting my dearest friend to recover fast, can you? You wound my poor, aching heart.” He closes his eyes, clutching his own chest as though his heart were truly damaged by words alone.

“I don't need you to take care of me,” Your hands tense over the metal, head turning to the side, away from his hand, “I'll recover on my own. I don't need someone to dote on me.”

Aventurine slides his hand down to the opposite shoulder, pushing you back down to the bed. He leans down, pressing his face against your neck, down to your collar, “But isn't it nice? I bought out a whole pharmacy for you- well, not quite… But still, I'm treating you like royalty!”

Your hands push against his shoulders, “I don't want pampering, I don't want a pile of medicine I'll never use, I don't want to be treated like a hapless maiden in a tower!”

To your surprise, your pushing gets Aventurine to lift up. His expression is something you've never seen- on him that is- upset and conflicted. He blinks, stutters, stares, deciding to lean down once again, this time pressing his face to your stomach. Your strength fails you as you can barely push him off, his hands squeeze you before suddenly moving to a hug instead.

“...Just let me take care of you,” Aventurine pleads. It's weak, his voice is pathetic and small, you can feel his left hand shake as he grasps you like you'll fade into dust otherwise, “Please.”

He reaches up, interlocking fingers and- you don't have the heart to decline him further. You lightly squeeze his hand, “...Fine.”

You've recovered in due time, though… You stare at the very entertaining message from the doctor, containing an image of a poor, sickly Aventurine and text informing you that he had passed out.

#dragon queen writes #aventurine #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr aventurine #hsr x reader #aventurine x reader

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megumiluvv · 8 months ago

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I Slept With My Brother’s Babysitter

Includes: Choso x (fem)Babysitter reader, new relationship (like an hour old), kissing, lots. Choso plays with reader’s boobs for a little, boob kissing, nipple biting (yeowch), reader’s boobs aren’t a specific size, body worship, Choso is uncut, handjob/fingering (both receiving), oral (both receiving), praise (always, it’s zero writing🙄), protected sex, like three orgasms, aftercare (yippee!!), sillies in love.

Masterlist

Read Part One Here!

Word Count: ~3k

A/n: Yayyyy, hopefully, this is good! As the title and “includes” mentions, this is smut, so if you don’t want to read that with this au, please skip over!! I’m unsure if I will write a male reader counterpart (I apologize if I don’t), but I hope you enjoy this! As always, likes and reblogs are appreciated!! (I love reading your tags) I think I like boobs. Please ignore how this is like, 2-3 months late, I had a huge slump and then got really busy (_ _;) this is BARELY proofread, I let Grammarly do most of the work :P

〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎︎︎〰︎〰︎〰︎︎❀〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎

The moment Choso’s apartment door clicks shut, you’re pinned against the wall as he presses his lips to yours, hands reaching to lock the door. He holds your waist and you whine into his mouth when he lowers them to squeeze at your hips.

Choso hears the desperate noise and freezes, looking at you. “I… I liked that noise…”

His mumbles make you blush, and you two kiss more. “Can’t-” kiss “-just say that, dummy…”

“Can’t say what?” He pulls back, oblivious to how easily you get embarrassed.

“… Never mind, keep kissing me.”

He happily accepts that and squeezes your hips again as your lips lock for another time. Your tongues swap spit and you two stumble to his bedroom, where he finally pulls away again, much to your disappointment. You frown and chase his lips as he kneels to untie your shoes and carefully pull them off your feet.

“You are so absolutely gorgeous, you know that?”

“…You are embarrassing…”

“Do my words bother you?”

“No, they fluster me…”

He chuckles and kicks off his own shoes, carefully reaching to take off his shirt. You watch with hungry eyes and he just laughs more.

“Waiting for something?”

“I- no! …Okay, maybe.”

He laughs and takes off his shirt to show off his toned torso. You’ve seen Choso’s body a few times before when he comes out of the shower with only a towel around his waist when you watch Yuji, and of course, you can’t help but sneak a few glances. He noticed this, obviously, but would never tell you that. He reaches to undo your cute top, making sure it’s set aside carefully, and then unclasps your bra with ease.

The moment Choso sees your supple breasts, he is awestruck. He carefully takes one into his hand and lightly squeezes, gauging your reaction. You seem to like it, so he gently massages your breasts, leaning to kiss your neck and suck marks that Yuji will innocently question when he comes home.

You whine into the crook of his neck as he sucks those pretty marks into your skin and caresses your hard, sensitive nipples. Your hands grip the waistband of his pants needily tugging them down. It’s now his turn to blush as his penis is already at full attention.

“Wow, does kissing get you that desperate?” You laugh.

“Don’t make fun of me…”

“Sorry, sorryyy, I think it’s kind of endearing.”

“How is this endearing?”

“Well, you got all excited because you were kissing me, right? Ever got that way from kissing someone else?”

“Uh, n-no, I haven’t…” He seems embarrassed by his excitement.

You just smile. “That makes me feel special.”

His heart flutters, he really can’t help it when your smile is so gorgeous and words so sweet. He kisses you more, holding you gently and carefully slipping off the rest of your clothes. He doesn’t move to touch you yet, and you don’t move to touch him, you two just continue to taste each other’s mouths while in the nude.

Choso’s hand slides down to your ass and he lightly squeezes where he has always wanted to. The skin is so soft, better than he has ever imagined and you hum against his lips, enjoying the possessive gesture. You lay back and he kisses down your chest, lightly trailing his hands up and down your body.

Choso gently kisses your torso, sucking little marks into the skin between your breasts. His free hand traces the areola on your right breast while he focuses his mouth on your left. Your pretty whines echo in his mind and fill the room, hands carding into his dark locks to lightly pull as he looks up at you with hooded eyelids. The gasp that escapes your throat when his teeth gently bite down on your nipple makes him dizzy.

“Ch-choso, I’m sensitive there!” You whine and tug harder at his hair.

He just hums and moves to the other nipple, giving the same attention to it. His saliva mixed with the air feels almost freezing on your poor nipple when he does switch. His hand tweaks and tugs at the reddened area, looking back up at you with love-drunk eyes. Choso reluctantly pulls himself away after a few minutes and returns to locking lips with you.

“You're so gorgeous,” he mumbles against your lips. “Beautiful body, soft lips, heavenly tits…”

“You haven’t even let me appreciate your body,” you whine, yet there’s no real complaint in your words.

He chuckles and traces your hips. “You’ll get there soon. Let me do one more thing, please.”

You nod. “Okay.”

He rubs your hips gently and drags his hands along your sides, watching your reactions. His rough thumbs feel so soft to you as if they were the only hands that existed. Or mattered, at least. Calloused fingers trace down your hips and slowly make their way to your mound, his middle finger tracing slow circles into your clit.

Satisfied hums escape your throat as he slowly yet expertly rubs your clit, spreading your folds and examining your pretty pussy. Soft kisses plant onto your hips and slowly make their way to your sweet core.

He almost cums just from tasting you. The dark-haired male licks a long stripe along your pussy before suckling your pretty clit. The gasp that escapes you makes it so much harder for him not to blow his load, you just taste so divine and sound so sweet. Your quiet hums quickly turn into desperate whines as Choso expertly eats you out. He ruts his hips against the sheets for some relief, focusing on sucking your sensitive little nub and making you release those cute noises.

“Y-yes, right there, Choso,” you whine and buck up into his mouth.

He just hums into your weeping cunt, the vibrations from his voice adding yet another sensation to your body. Choso’s hands grip your hips in place as he takes you with his tongue. His tongue spells his name repeatedly into your clit as he guides his middle finger to prod at your sopping hole. The male slowly pushes his middle and ring fingers in and curls them up, loving how your breath hitches as your body arches up more into his mouth when his fingers expertly find your g-spot.

He wants to laugh at how easily he understands your body. The slightest touch has your mind reeling and he is ecstatic to know he's doing that to you. He can feel how you’re squeezing his fingers and realizes that you’re already so close to your release. He doesn’t change his movements in fear that he’ll ruin it for you, just staying constant while you breathily chant his name like a mantra.

“Choso! Cho-so! I’m- I’m gonna-!!”

You don’t finish the sentence before your orgasm ripples through your body, back arching up and hands gripping his hair like a vice. His slurps are so messy now as he swallows all the sweet juices of your release. He slowly pulls his mouth away to look up at you, your chest heaving and fingers lightly pulling his hair and then soothing his scalp.

You come down from the high and he is full of grins. Starry-eyed and kissing your skin as if you were sculpted from the finest clay. You sit up after a few minutes and the both of you kiss again, you can taste yourself on his tongue. He happily lets your tongue invade his mouth, his body jolting with pleasure when your hand finds his dick.

You slowly slide your hand along the base of his cock. Your thumb helps move his foreskin back so you can tease the head. As you do so, his breath hitches, and a quiet groan escapes his throat, his forehead resting against your shoulder. Choso grips your hips and ruts his own into your hand.

“Your hand feels amazing,” he murmurs huskily, breathing heavily into your neck. “Don’t stop…”

“No? Not even if I want to suck it instead?” You whisper with a hint of teasing.

His cheeks flush and he groans softly. “Okay, but only if you’re doing that instead…”

You giggle and press a soft kiss against his lips before kneeling down to be level with his manhood. You press another kiss against the red tip of his cock before sliding your tongue along his length. His soft groans fill the room as your mouth envelops him, his hands tangling into your hair and guiding your head.

Choso swears he’s in heaven. Everything about you is so heavenly. The warmth of your mouth has him going crazy, he can only imagine how your other hole would feel.

“Oh, just like that,” he groans, very vocal compared to his usual reserved nature. “So good…”

It takes everything for him not to blow his load when you hum in response. You can taste it too, the pre that leaks out of him is oh-so perfect. Not too bitter, you can’t help but want more. He tries to pull away before he can cum, but you have such a pretty look on your face that he cums shortly after. Thick ropes reach down your throat and you pull away with a gasp shortly after swallowing.

Once Choso has come down from his high, he feels red reach his face and he clears his throat. “S-sorry, that was probably super gross…”

“No, no, it wasn’t bad at all.” You smile reassuringly and sit on his lap, careful not to stimulate his dick again. “I wanted to taste it.”

He’s super red now if he wasn’t already. “Ah, um, o-okay…”

“Need a break before we start all the… penetration stuff?” You blush a little.

“Yeah, just a little bit,” he mumbles and buries into your neck, planting soft kisses.

You press a kiss to his lips and get off his lap to look for condoms. “Where do you keep your condoms?”

“Uh, the one cabinet Yuji can’t reach. Bathroom, above the mirror.”

You head to the bathroom connected to his bedroom and get on your tiptoes to open the cabinet and grab a condom. You return to the bed and carefully put the rubber on him, apologizing when he hisses out of sensitivity. You giggle a little afterwards and he frowns and attacks you with kisses.

“Ack! Choso! Quiiiit!” You laugh and wrap your arms around him.

“Mwah, mwah, mmmmmwah!” He chuckles and presses soft kisses around your neck and jawline.

“Quit ittt!” You giggle more.

He pulls away after pressing a soft kiss to your lips and has the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen on him. You smile yourself and push his bangs out of his face. He hums and rubs your hips.

“You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

“You’ve been saying that. I have no choice but to believe you.” You tease and kiss the corner of his lips.

“You should. I mean it.”

“Hm. So you’re the one who taught Yuji that honesty?”

“Ha, I guess, what’d he say?”

“He tells me all the time that I’m pretty.”

“He’s not wrong.”

“So do you and him talk about how pretty I am together?” You tease.

“Do you want more kisses?”

“Okay, okayyy…”

He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Then another. And another. The two of you make out again and he lifts you from his lap and lays you on your back against his bed. You tangle your fingers into his hair and hum against his lips, body jolting in surprise when his tip grazes your clit. He chuckles at that.

“Sensitive?”

“A little,” you mumble into his skin.

“But good enough for me to start?”

“Mhm, just don’t cum too early.” You tease and he nips at your bottom lip.

“Don’t plan on cumming before you.”

“Well, aren’t you a gentleman?”

He scoffs at your tease and carefully slides his rubber-coated dick along your slick to use as lube before sliding into your warmth. Choso lets himself stay there for a moment and also allows you to adjust to his intrusion. You hold onto the man’s shoulders as he rubs your sides soothingly.

“You okay?” he whispers.

“Mhm, just need a second,” you mumble back.

“Just tell me when, I'll move slow.”

After a few moments of waiting, you nod. Choso moves his hips forward to be fully inside you, mumbling an apology when your nails dig into his skin. He waits again for your nod, which doesn’t come for a while. When it does, he slowly moves back until he is almost fully out of you, then slides back in, angling up just a bit to graze along your g-spot.

The gasp it elicits from you makes him dizzy. It's like he magically got drunk during dinner because you're constantly making him so light-headed with every little thing you do. He gradually picks up the pace and his hips now move a bit faster, the angle he's been at making you just as dizzy as he is.

Soft moans fill the room, as well as his quiet grunts and the squeak of his bed. The bed frame makes quiet thumps against the wall that separates your apartment from his, so he's not worried about a noise complaint. He kisses marks against your chest and holds your hips firmly yet not hard enough to bruise.

“Oh, right there, yeah, y-yeah, feels so good, Choso.” your breathless whispers mix with your moans.

“Feels good?” he repeats and smiles against your skin.

“Mhm-- fuck --feels amazing…”

He groans and continues his gradual increase in thrusts, eyes rolling back at how responsive you get. Your soft mewls drive him absolutely insane as he moves even faster inside you and spreads your legs wider (if even possible). Your nails dig even deeper into his shoulders, clawing at his back because he just feels so good, and he’s just so deep, it is just so right.

He can feel just how close you are and it's driving him nuts. He needs to feel you cum around him, and needs to know how it feels, he's been dreaming of this moment without even realizing it. But he can tell you still need something to help you teeter over the edge. He carefully rubs your clit with his thumb, not going too fast and not going too slow to keep you from orgasm. And he talks you through it the whole time.

“Gotta cum for me, pretty girl, I need you to cum. Yeahhh, I know-- fuck --know you're close, just let go f’me, okay? That's it, good fucking girl-- fuck, you squeeze so tight…”

You climax with a moan of his name and your nails drag along his back, legs squeezing around him and shaking slightly. He continues to thrust, the intervals becoming sloppy as he reaches his own orgasm, hips finally stilling when he overstimulated himself.

Choso carefully pulls out of you and kisses your forehead, moving your hair that is stuck to it out of the way. He grins and kisses your cheeks and lips as he slides the condom off his softening cock.

“You’re so perfect,” he whispers against your skin. “Ready to shower?”

“Hold me for a little before we do,” you whine.

He chuckles and lays beside you, holding you on top of him and running his hand along your back. Choso's hand traces shapes into your hips as your head leans on his chest. His lips gently and repeatedly press against your forehead as he whispers praises to you.

“You are such an angel, so gorgeous and sweet, even when you're a tease…”

“Mhmm,” you hum back, too tired to actually form a reply.

“And you're just so fucking perfect, I love it.”

When he doesn't hear your half-reply and instead only hears your soft breathing, he smiles and carefully pulls the blanket over you. Choso, however, gets out of bed and showers, putting on fresh boxers before warming a bath up for you. He re-enters his room and carefully scoops you up, smiling softly when you wake up but don't really protest the bath.

Choso lathers your body carefully in some soap you had bought him as a neighborly welcome gift when he and Yuji moved in. You just sit in the tub and relax.

“Tired?” he mumbles.

“Yeah, I was almost asleep…”

“I wanted to get you clean before you slept. Can't be too upset.”

“Interrupting my beauty sleep, how rude.” you joke and poke your tongue out.

“Come on, you can return as soon as I dry you off.” he laughs and rinses your body.

“Fine, but you have to make me breakfast tomorrow.”

“Of course, I planned on that anyway.”

He dries you off and gives you some boxers and his t-shirt to sleep in, then lays in bed with you. You cuddle into him and Choso smiles while holding you even closer.

“You know you're most likely gonna be sore tomorrow, yeah?”

“Probably, but it was so worth it in the moment.”

You both laugh and Choso kisses your head. “Get some sleep.”

“Mkay,” you mumble and quickly fall asleep, quiet breathing filling the room. He could get used to this.

Taglist: @samaraxmorgan @cherriee-ee @auor4 @chaotic-ish @meowsannie

@mediokerrv @flooftoof @dazaisfavgf @mysteriaqueen @theirlgarfield

#my dumbass forgot to tag this…#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #choso kamo #brothers babysitter au #choso #choso x reader #choso kamo x reader #jjk smut #choso smut #jjk choso #kamo choso #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso kamo smut #choso x female reader #choso x you

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in-kaeya-we-thrust · 11 months ago

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Purple Iruma

tags/warnings: iruma x gn!reader, pre-established relationship, fluff, evil cycle iruma-kun, human reader, abnormal class

a/n: this is a continuation of the imagine I wrote last time

More evil cycle iruma x reader: breathless, hate or love?

"O-Opera-san!" You huffed as you enter the kitchen. Waking up the second time made you realize what was actually happening.

"Good morning, Miss Y/N. I assume you had a good night's sleep?" Opera greeted, tail flicking in amusement.

"T-There's something wrong with Iruma!" You exclaimed, voice laced with panic.

Opera didn't waste any second and immediately ran back to the young master's bedroom, carrying you with him, of course. Used to the demon's feline instincts, you let them carry you like a sack of rice over their shoulder. But to your both's surprise, you see Iruma sitting on the dining table, peacefully munching on his food.

"Oh, so that's what it is..." Opera's ears perked. They sighed and put you down on a chair, the one right next to Iruma.

They were about to leave when you managed to grab the hem of their shirt. "Opera-san... what do you mean that?" you whispered into their ear.

"Don't worry, miss Y/N. Iruma-sama's just in his evil cycle." They assured.

"I can hear you two, you know." The purple Iruma-kun interjected.

You just sighed in defeat, and took your seat beside him. Looking down at the plate full of food, you realized how none of those will be digested properly today. Usually, your breakfasts with Iruma were always bubbly, watching your beloved happily inhaling his breakfast while telling stories in intervals. Your train of thought got interrupted when a spoonful of your favorite food appeared in front of your face. "Y/N-chan, say ahhhh,"

"T-Thanks, Iruma-san. But I already got my plate full." You kindly rejected his offer, flustered by the gesture. Normally, you'd be the one teasing Iruma with your flirting and all, but now, the tables have turned. You let out a sigh of relief when he put the spoon down. Now, you can eat in peace (kind of).

However, Iruma extended his hand and grabbed your chin, making you face him. He mouthed an 'aaaah', gesturing you to do the same. You were too flustered that you had no choice but to comply. He grinned happily when he accomplished his goal of feeding you. "Good girl," He patted your head.

What am I... a dog? Despite that thought, you can't deny that his cute little praise got your heart skipping a beat.

Who would've thought... that Iruma could be such a flirt?!

That was probably the longest breakfast you had your whole life. The carriage ride to Babylys was peaceful enough. Iruma resting his head on your shoulder with his hand on your lap is not that much of a deal. Yep, everything's fine, you're totally okay with this. Couples you read in books often do this, so it's totally normal. But the issue is... Iruma's not like that! Not in the slightest bit! At this point, you assumed that he's doing this in purpose just to tease the hell out of you.

When you arrived at royal one, you thought Asmodeus and Clara would be able to help you with this, but their reaction made you more worried.

"What could've possibly triggered Iruma-sama's evil cycle..." Asmodeus muttered to himself.

"Y/N-chi and Iruma-chi must have played all night long and tired themselves out!" Clara hypothesized, now wearing her so-called 'genius glasses' and her silly mustache.

"Silly, Clara! Don't you underestimate his stamina. Plus, an evil cycle is not triggered that easily, especially for someone as majestic as Iruma-sama" Asmodeus removed the glasses out of Clara's face and burned them using his flames.

"Actually, both of you got it right." The man seated beside you, Iruma, joined the conversation.

"Eh?"

"Alice's right on the part that my stamina's amazing."

"Of course! I am Iruma-sama's spear afterall." He said proudly.

"As for Clara, it is true that we had fun all night long, isn't that right, Y/N-chan?" Iruma turned to your direction and gave you a sly smirk, even closing the distance between you two.

Your face immediately heat up, now as red as a tomato. You budged a little in your seat, keeping him at arms length. This is just too much! The butterflies are going crazy in your stomach and you feel like you're going to faint anytime now. You rested the side of your head on your palm; elbow on top of the table as support. But the purple Iruma's not going to leave you alone, no? He held the hand supporting your head and pulled you back closer to him. Your head now resting on his shoulder, hand in his under the table, and his other hand supporting your head.

"Damn, Iruma-kun's evil cycle is much more intense this time." Lied commented as he eyed the two of you.

The whole abnormal class watching the scene as if it was from a movie doesn't help. You were just about to slip away but his grip on your hand tightened. You glanced at him and he's looking you intently. Although those eyes now look sharper than before, they were still the familiar orbs you love to stare at. You felt his thumb brush over your hand while he held it tightly. You were so overwhelmed with everything going on, triggering your flight response, that's why you tried to get away from him. You thought that he was being a tease, but he was actually trying to be affectionate... in his new, unique way. And with that, you chose to accept defeat. Finally relaxing on your boyfriend's shoulder as your heart rate finally returns back to normal.

"W-What are you guys standing there for? Shoo, you're making my lover uncomfortable." Iruma told the whole class, stammering a little. You raised your head a little to take a look at his face and you noticed that his ears were awfully red.

"Awwww," the whole class cooed. Thankfully, they did leave the two of you alone.

You playfully poked his waist, causing him to flinch. "You're actually flustered with all of this, aren't you?" You teased.

He looked at you for a few seconds before gently pushing your head back on his shoulder. "Just shut up and rest."

"Okay, if you say so, Iruma-kun~" You giggled. Iruma huffed but there was an evident blush plastered along his cheeks.

#evil cycle iruma #iruma x reader #evil cycle iruma x reader #iruma kun #mairuma #welcome to demon school #mairimashita iruma kun #m!ik #iruma suzuki #m!ik imagines #mairimashita! iruma kun

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ambrosialdesire · 2 years ago

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bounded

18+ DARK CONTENT BELOW, MINORS + BLANK BLOGS DNI

pairing: s4 eren x fem!reader word count: 2.5k warnings + tags: general yandere and obsessive themes, unhealthy relationships, one-sided pining, childhood friends, p*rn w/ plot, non-con, manipulation, guilt-tripping, loss of virginity, forced fingering, forced f oral sex, vaginal sex, bounded hands (kinda), panty-gag, praise & degradation, slight edging, spitting, hair-pulling, forced cheating, all characters are 18+ synopsis: ignoring the romantic feelings of the man you thought was your beloved childhood best friend was never your intention, but you should have given eren a shot. maybe then you wouldn't be begging for forgiveness underneath the star-filled sky. a/n: continuation of boundless, as requested by many anons hehe so this is just straight up smut, mostly cause i'm still practicing how to write it. no i will not write a third part of this little series but i will accept asks about it just like any other fic i've written. i also reached over 500 likes since the start of this blog and i wanna thank y'all sm for the support!! i really didn't expect this much love towards my silly writing and i'm really grateful to be able to share a small piece of what i like to do. have fun with the read! i would love some feedback on the smut and how to improve it cause i feel like it's not up to par lol note: please keep in mind of the tags above and do not proceed if triggering or uncomfortable, especially if you are a minor!! do not read my or any other writers' dark content if you are underaged. this is a fictional work and does not reflect irl morals, do not believe this is how a real romance works or functions.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.───

A good god would never hurt their creations.

A good god would never bestow pain, sickness, or selfishness within their creations.

A good god would be morally just.

If there was a god here, they wouldn't have created this hellhole called Paradis. If there was one, what a cruel and merciless creator they'd be for letting thousands upon thousands of cannibalistic monsters live across the land.

No amount of written literature or street-wide sermons could convince you that any sort of higher being would create this generational agony out of the kindness of their heart. What was the lesson that humanity needed to learn? Why create this animosity towards the beings that you supposedly love?

You believed in no god. No merciful god was able to exist on this forsaken island.

Yet as Eren pressed the pads of his fingertips against the nub of your clit, the pleading incantations for something or someone — anyone — could not cease from spilling out from behind the cloth.

He sighed in annoyance but still rubbed it in slow circles. "I'd love to hear your voice but you know the rules up here. You don't want to get in trouble do you?"

The amount of pressure around your wrists tightened to the point that you thought he was going to break them, hot tears spilling out of your cheeks. To the best of your ability, you tried relaxing but your legs tensed and squeezed around Eren's waist as he began to pick up the pacing. You wanted to believe that he wouldn't hurt you, the dearest boy that you've loved ever since the two of you were little.

"Good girl." He quietly praised under his breath and you couldn't help but feel your heart ignorantly skip from those simple words, parts of his now-long brown hair falling over his eyes as he focused on your lower half.

His eyes had always reminded you of a clear morning sky, bright and confidently focused on the future ahead of him. You've adored those turquoise-blue eyes of his for years, admiration running through your veins whenever you shared a look with him. Now as you were able to catch a glance of them as he played with your now-throbbing clit, only dread crawled up your spine.

He was unrecognizable, a build-up of years of pain and resentment rippling off in a dark stormy sky. This was someone who simply existed to get revenge, tearing through everything to get what he wanted in the end.

This man wasn't your best friend. This man was not your Eren. This was no longer the boy that you playfully chased after over hills and through alleys. Whoever this was on top of you is a stranger.

A monster.

A demon.

He began to dip two of his fingers into your hole, a small shudder of breath escaping you as he slowly pushed one of his digits in. "Fuck, you're tight. That asshole doesn't know what the hell he's doing with you."

It hurt, the stretch from only two of his lithe fingers was foreign to your body. The sound of them going in and out with the slightest sounds of squelching made you cringe internally.

Your boyfriend never touched you once, both you and him promised to save each other until marriage. The idea gave you comfort at the time that no matter what, this fight will be worth it in the end. Since the Titans started to slowly thin out, the chance of finally starting a family with him became even more likely. It seemed that the world thought otherwise, digging its claws deep within your flesh. You shook your head towards Eren, who raised a confused eyebrow before grinning ear-to-ear.

"Don't tell me he never touched you?" He let go of your wrists and the warmth of his hand left from between your thighs. You thought he was letting you go scot-free. The two of you would just forget this night ever happened and go back to pretending that you were the best of friends. Unfortunately, you thought wrong.

Once Eren got an idea in his head, it was difficult to convince him otherwise.

He suddenly grabbed your waist, pulling your lower body close to his face, your legs dangling on-top of his shoulders. His arms tightly wrapped around your stomach and held you upside down, blood rushing to your head. You struggled around for a little bit, confusion and terror melding into your expression before he pressed his mouth against your hardened clit and sucked.

"He's missing out then." He groaned and the vibrations shot through your body, hands gripping at the blanket underneath you. Like a starved man, he lapped up your fluids like it was going to be his last meal. You felt dizzy, from the position you were in and how feverishly focused he was as he continued to lick your folds. A muffled whine came out of your mouth as his tongue started to tease around your slick opening, your head shaking back and forth as you stared at him with scared eyes.

Eren ignored you, squeezing your body even closer to his, tongue now slipping in. He started to hold you with one arm and reached over to play with your clit as he prodded the muscle in you, your legs squeezing around his head. You tried to ignore the pulse in your core when you felt him press against your back, the tears coming back in full force. Never in years have you felt this powerless, especially when it was coming from the very person that you've always looked highly upon.

You felt disgusted as his saliva intertwined with your slick began to drip down your pussy, the flesh becoming glistened in the moonlight. Feeling his fingers soon dip in along with his tongue had you loudly exhale into the gag, your legs shaking as the tips of his fingers brushed against a particular spot with you. He kept poking and prodding till you could feel a heavy pressure build up in the pit of your stomach, an exploding desire to finally release something in your body had your eyes tightly closed shut.

You tried imagining the man that was enjoying you was your boyfriend, that this was your honeymoon and that he was the one that was pleasing you. Yet your body and mind refused to think picture him. The hands and fingers that touched you was far too calloused to be his. The hair that brushed against your inner thighs was too long. The body against yours was more muscular than his.

No matter what you tried to deny, this was Eren. Completely and wholly Eren.

A throaty groan made your whole body tense up and your eyes shoot back open. Eren finally pulled away from your lower half, his eyes half-lidded and dazed with lust. You were in a haze, confused and partially irritated that the pleasure was suddenly stopped, leaving you horridly unsatisfied. His mouth was covered with your fluids and you watched him run a tongue over his lips, a grin forming as he knew what you were thinking.

"I wanna feel you cum on my mouth another time. If I waited any longer, I would've came in my pants." He teased, letting you finally rest flat back on the blanket. You heard the click of his belt and the shuffle of his pants being pulled down, his lower half settling back in-between you.

"Watch me put it in." You shook your head in refusal and closed your eyes once more, but he didn't take that response well from the way he grabbed the top of your head and pulled at the hair roughly for you to look down.

"I said watch." He bore his teeth at you as tears formed in the corners of your eyes, the pain making you open them back up. You wished that you kept them closed, your breaths beginning to quicken as you realized his cockhead was getting close to your entrance.

It was a pretty cock, not too girthy nor was it too short. The tip was flushed a soft pink from what you could see in the moonlight, already dripping and glossy with precum. Tufts of dark brown hair trailed down towards the base of it and there was a shadow of a protruding vein that you were able to see on the side of his shaft.

Eren used his other hand to align himself to your hole, and you begrudgingly watched and felt him slowly sheath himself into your pussy. Agony was the first sensation that shot through your body, hands twisting the filthy sheet underneath you. The stretch burned your core and you painfully whined against the gag.

"Fuck — fuckkk — you're so warm and tight." He moaned as he released his hand from your hair. You felt grateful that he hadn't made any sudden movements, letting you at least adjust to the insertion. Perhaps there was still some form of compassion in the man you knew.

His hands went to your hips, gripping and kneading around the fat. You could feel him shaking, his cock twitching against your walls. Eren was never good at restraining himself and it showed, a muffled cry slipping out of you as he began to thrust without warning. You watched as his dick rhythmically slid in and out of you, splitting you in two.

"You're fucking mine, you hear me?" He hissed as he continued to rapidly plunge into your slopping cunt. You let out a muted cry as the palm of his hand made contact against the side of your ass, a stinging pain forming. "From the moment we were kids to now, you were and have always been mine."

He was relentless as he pounded into your pussy, every thrust caused sharp but muffled moans into the gag. You wanted to fight back but when you looked back into his eyes, your heart sank down to the pit of your stomach.

Desperation.

The most recognizable expression you've witnessed on others on numerous occasions. He fucked you like it was the last thing he'd ever get to do, as if this was a necessity. The tormented expression in his face, the way he bit down on his lip and dug his nails into your hips. No doubt he felt guilty for taking you like this, it was like he had no other option left.

His fingers reached over in between your lips and ripped out your spit-soaked panty, tossing it to the side. You took in heavy gulps of fresh air before he pressed his lips against yours, sloppily rubbing his tongue against yours. It was like he was trying to devour you whole, almost taking the air away from your lungs.

Eren pulled away with a pant, letting you moan out to the world without any more obstruction. "You're a cruel bitch, ignoring my feelings for years like this. Running to some bastard that'll never understand you."

His hips started to slam angrily against yours and reflectively, you wrapped your legs around his waist tightly. You could feel the tip of his cock nudging and poking against your cervix, whines slipping out of your lips as he continued to push his dick against it.

"E-eren, I'm s-sorry." You begged, tears pricking at the edges of your eyes, hoping that he'd ease up on your poor hole. You heard him breathily scoff at your weak apology.

"Yeah? You're sorry?" He half-heartedly laughed and put one of his hands under your jaw, squeezing your cheeks together. "If you're really sorry, open your mouth for me then slut."

You hesitantly obeyed, confused with his request but at least he stopped thrusting so violently. He grinned cockily and spat on your tongue, your face contorting to a grimace as you felt the warm and thick liquid rest on the surface. You wanted to spit it out, almost gagging as it was nearly sliding down your throat but Eren stopped you from turning your head to eject it out.

"Swallow it." He absolutely lost his mind if he thought you were going to do that. You glared at him but he simply smiled smugly, running his fingers through your hair, lightly tugging at the strands.

"Swallow it and I won't cum in you." The second he said that, your blood ran cold, eyes widening in fear. He can't be serious, can he? This was Eren you were talking about, of course he'd be serious.

You hated this, you hated how it felt like you knew him but at the same time, knew nothing about him at all.

With one swift motion, you swallowed and started coughing, trying not to throw up the dinner you had nearly an hour ago. He pried open your mouth with his fingers, checking as if you really did do it and kissed you once more after he finished his inspection.

"Good, you're doing so good." He whispered into your ear as he rolled his hips, plunging you once more with his cock. You unintentionally squeezed him as he angled himself more to hit a spongy spot within your cunt, a dragged out moan coming out as the tip rubbed it.

"You like that, you whore?" You nodded wordlessly as you rolled your head back, pleasure swimming in your muddled brain. You could feel his fingers slip in-between your drenched pussy, curling against your throbbing clit.

"Ha— What would your boyfriend think? His so-called innocent girlfriend being a filthy cock-slut for her best friend." He teased as he rolled his fingertips around the nub, your core clenching around him. You wanted to tell him off — to stop mentioning your boyfriend — but you were so close to that release from earlier that you couldn't focus on what he was saying about him.

You could feel Eren start to speed up, his thrusts becoming more deeper and erratic, his fingers moving faster and faster against your clit until you couldn't hold it in anymore. You could barely hear him tell you that you can do it, that he was almost there too. Your walls gripped around his moving cock and your vision went white, every single muscle in your body became pulled taut as you finally came.

He didn't stop throughout your orgasm, letting out a broken cry as he finally stopped moving. You felt nothing until he sat up and pulled away from your body, whining quietly as he slipped his now-soft cock out of your still-sensitive pussy. With that, you could feel a warm liquid spill out of your hole.

"You p-promised." You sobbed out in a whisper and he silently stroked the side of your face.

"I didn't promise you anything, but I meant what I said earlier. I love you, I won't let anyone or anything take you away from me. Not even fate will tear us apart." Eren laid next to you, your bodies sweaty and sticky. You couldn't stop crying, letting the tears fall down your face as you stared up at the night sky with him.

"I'll take care of you, okay? You won't need anyone else but me from now on." His calloused hand took in yours, interlocking his fingers with yours and holding it firmly.

"Me, you, and our baby. That's all that matters in the world." You couldn't help but cry aloud at that.

If there was a god, good or bad, may they never let this child live through this hell.

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johnathanthestupidpoet69 · 19 days ago

Text

Scars and a Sunset (more scarian, yep)

Summary:

By this time he'd reached the top of the mountain, he sat down beside his winged friend, looking out at the setting sun the same way Grian was. "Thinkin', huh?" He asked, sensing a sort of quiet sadness in air. "Yeah, thinking" Grian said, ever unwilling to open up. Scar turned to face him. ---- or, lads, gals, theys and gays, i am still in fact in that desert

Rating:

General Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Fandom:

Life Series | 3rd Life SMP Series

Relationship:

Charles | Grian & Ryan | GoodTimesWithScar

Characters:

Charles | Grian

Ryan | GoodTimesWithScar

Additional Tags:

Fluff

Hurt/Comfort

Trans Male Character

Trans Charles | Grian

Literal Sleeping Together

Mutual Pining

Avian Charles | Grian

Elf Ryan | GoodTimesWithScar

3rd Life SMP Setting

Monopoly Mountain (3rd Life SMP)

Drabble

Gay

Cute

I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping

Full fic under cut (543 words)

As Scar made his way up Monopoly Mountain he noticed Grian sitting at the top, not reading or taking notes in that mysterious little book of his, just, sitting. He thought it was a little odd, unlike Grian to ever take a break.

By this time he'd reached the top of the mountain, he sat down beside his winged friend, looking out at the setting sun the same way Grian was.

"Thinkin', huh?" He asked, sensing a sort of quiet sadness in air.

"Yeah, thinking" Grian said, ever unwilling to open up. Scar turned to face him.

"Talk to me" He said, watching for the reaction in his friend's dark eyes.

"Not much to talk about."- Grian pauses for a second- "Just thinking about all the years I lost out on." It takes Scar a minute but he remembers, Grian hadn't grown up the way he had.

"And"- Grian continued-" the scars" He looked down at his chest with a sort of mild frustration.

"Scars are pretty" Scar said, thought he'd never seen Grian's top surgery scars-or anyone's top surgery scars for that matter-He knew ever inch of Grian was pretty.

"Scars tell the story of how you ended up the way you are, inside and out" He said.

Grian had never thought about it that way but he supposed Scar was right.

"But there's not time for worrying about silly things like scars, we need sleep" Scar said after a minute's pause, standing up and brushing the sand off his clothes.

"Ugh, fine" Grian did the same, following Scar inside. The two were about to part ways as usual when Grian spoke up.

"Actually Scar, could we-could we uh share tonight?" He asked. Scar's heart almost skipped a beat. He'd started to realize the way he felt about Grian was different from how he felt about anyone else, it was love.

And now he would be sharing a bed with him.

He agreed, all the same, and followed Grian into his room on the first floor, the bigger of the two.

Scar figured he'd just sleep in his boxers, too lazy to find something else. Grian began to change though.

It was here that Scar saw Grian without a shirt for the first time, pale and freckled with two twin scars on his chest. God, he looked glorious. The avian reached for a t-shirt and Scar couldn't help the small pang of disappointment that flooded through him.

"G"-He spoke up-"I think it might be too hot for a shirt" It was a hint, and a bad one. Luckily Grian was good to notice hints.

He sat down on the bed beside Scar.

"Well hello there, handsome."

Grian rolled his eyes. "You and your joke flirting" He said as he made himself comfortable in the mess of pillows and blankets.

Yeah, joke flirting.

Scar got himself ready for sleep. (Not a very involved thing as he was just taking his pants off) Grian then flicked off the light.

As Scar began to drift off he thought about the "joke" flirting, about how sad Grian had seemed when he first got back, but mostly he thought about Grian's pale, freckled chest, with the twin scars.

That damn bird was sent from heaven

#life series #trafficblr #trafficshipping #3rd life #grian #goodtimeswithscar #scarian #scarian fic

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temporarilyunspokensneezes · 7 months ago

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Roommates Do These Things For Each Other

W/icked - Ge//lphie

Warnings: none

Tags: allergies, feathers, stuck sneezes, lesbian witches

Word count: ~500

Note: for the sake of the (non existent) plot, assume that this is post-ozdust but pre-emerald city, sometime in the spring semester at Shiz.

Also these two have me in the best/worst chokehold 🙈 I haven't written a damn thing in nearly 3 years and yet they managed to pull this out of me. Written directly here on the post so please forgive grammar issues and tense changes.

"Elphieeee!! Oh, oh Elphie! It's happening again, help!!!" Galinda cried from her side of the room.

It would've been a disturbance from her notes if Elphaba hadn't already been completely distracted since the first sniffle produced from the other girl earlier that afternoon.

Miss pink and popular scurried over towards Elphaba at her desk, both hands fanning her pinched face. Perhaps her nose being pink should simply be considered on brand for her.

"I don't know why you don't just go to the school nurse for some spring sickness potions..." Elphaba grumbled, trying to will away the creeping threat of a blush rising to her face. This was what? The 5th time this week alone? She wasn't sure how much more she could take.

"But Elphieeee," Galinda whined. "I hate how sleepy those silly potions make me. I don't have time to waste sleeping the days away." They've had this debate already, and each time Elphaba conceded the moment she saw Galinda's nose scrunch and wriggle, eye lids flutter as her petite frame shuddered, only to fall slack once more before reaching the precipice.

"Fine," came her sighed response, hoping it sounded more annoyed than nervous. She lets that feeling in the center of her chest grow and swell, concentrating on it and urging it to bend to her will. An experience that used to utterly terrify her, now a much more practiced exercise in control.

The small feather floats over, already lose from its original home in Elphaba's pillow, and hovers in front of Galinda's face. The girl's expression turns grateful the moment she sees the fluffy white thing, sending an unspoken thank you to Elphaba before letting her eyes close and her hands kept away from her face.

Elphaba is simply glad that her roommate never tries to watch her during this. She's not sure her heart could handle it. She also tells herself that the reason she stares so intently at Galinda's face is for the sake of concentration on her magic and nothing else.

Slowly, the feather wanders closer to that pink nose, gently tracing along the rims of the underside. "Eh-Elphie... don't juh-st...don't just tease. C'mon," Galinda pleads through hitched breaths. It makes trying to swallow feel thick in Elphaba's throat. She sends the feather further, swirling rhythmically as it enters. Elphaba swears she can almost feel how the feather strokes and coaxes out the stubborn tickles. Oz help her...

"Oh! Oh yes, right there! Yes, that's it, I'm finally going to-!.... Heh....eh-heh!....het'CHIII!" It's simultaneously dramatic and petite, much like Galinda herself, and hastily aimed into a pink handkerchief. A look of pure relief crosses Galinda's features after all is over, leaving her smiling and sniffling from behind the piece of fabric. "Thank you, Elphie!" She beams, wrapping her roommate in a quick hug before skipping back over to her own bed to continue studying.

Elphaba only nods in response, turning back to her textbook but unable to read a word of it. Oz help her, this was going to be a long spring ....

#my post #snz #snz kink #holy shit #snzfic #god i havent written in so long #this is very short #but these lesbians are consuming me

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silenzahra · 3 months ago

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A personal update

Hey, everyone! My life has changed a bit these past few weeks so I thought I should update you on how it's going to affect my activity on this site. You totally don't have to read this as it's gonna be mostly personal lol, you're obviously free to skip it 😅

But for whoever's interested, let me explain ~~

First of all, some of you might remember that I took an exam back in December. Welp, I finally learned in March that I didn't pass 🙃 It was a great bummer but I wasted no time in trying to fix it and now I'm attending an academy in which they're helping me prepare for the next time the exam will take place. It's still soon to know when it'll be, probably next year, but this only means that I have more time to prepare myself better than last time.

And the academy is truly helping me a lot! I've only been inscribed for a week but every time I've gone, I've felt VERY motivated and absolutely ready to go on and continue doing my best. I didn't pass only for 0.66 tenths so I know that next time will be my time. Especially with the help of the academy 💪🏻

Still, this is obviously affecting my social life, my writing and, well, everything in general. On weekdays I probably won't be too active, maybe I'll just drop by occasionally to reblog stuff but won't interact much in general. I'll still take the weekends off, though two days is certainly not enough to catch up with everything I miss during the week 😅 So I hope you'll understand that I'll be slower than usual in getting to everything. Doesn't mean that I'm ignoring you or that I don't like your content 🙏🏻

As for the tags, just like I did almost a month ago, I decided to turn them off. I still can't be mentioned on anything, something that I'll only remove on weekends. As I said these are gonna be my only two free days, so if there's anything you want me to see, be it fanart or a silly post or whatever, the weekend will be the chance to tag me.

Still, please understand that I might NOT get to see everything, be it for a lack of time, be it because of personal preferences. As you can see I'm extremely busy, which means I can only get to the content I'm VERY interested in. And that is: brotherly love and Luaisy, mostly. I'm obviously open to seeing more stuff, headcanons and such, but I hope you understand that, for the time being, I have to be VERY picky when it comes to deciding what to consume. This is a hobby after all, so I'm 100% prioritizing getting to my favorite content. Absolutely nothing personal 🙏🏻💖

When it comes to fanfics though... I'm tremendously sorry, but having to study again for most of my day, I sincerely don't feel like reading that much 😅 (in general, not only fanfics). I still have a LONG list of fics to get to on AO3, and I hope I can slowly find the time to get to everything even if I take forever, mostly during the weekends. But with this I mean to say... if you wanna tag me in something (when it's active on the weekends), PLEASE, don't tag me in anything that involves reading, at least for the time being 🥲🙏🏻 I'm truly sorry for saying this, especially being a writer myself, but I really can't read at the moment, and I fear that I'd only feel stressed adding more stuff to my TBR... Again, nothing personal, it's totally up to me and my silly anxiety, but of course I'll change this as soon as I manage to find a better balance between studying and my hobbies. This is only temporary, promise 🙏🏻

My writing will also be affected, as I'm struggling to find the time to finish a fic that I'd like to post in a couple of weeks 🙃 I'm trying my best though, but I just want you to know that, after said fic is up, I'll probably take a long time to post something new. I'm not gonna set dates or anything, I'll just flow with whatever I feel like writing once I'm done with the one I'm working on (which I'm enjoying writing 100%). I feel terrible that I still have to respond to the feedback I got on my latest story even though it's been a month since I posted it... I'm tremendously sorry but of course I'll get to it as soon as I can 🙏🏻💖

This got incredibly long lol, but I'm gonna take the chance and leave this post pinned to my blog for the time being (gotta make a new masterpost as soon as possible 😅). I just hope you'll all understand that I'll be even slower getting to everything, and that when I'm around I'll mostly be focusing on just reblogging stuff as it's what works best for me to find a distraction from my responsibilites. Doesn't mean that I'm ignoring you, of course not 🫂 And I'm always happy to interact even if I'm slower these days. I just hope I can get back to normal as soon as possible as I progress in the academy and find the perfect balance.

Thank you so much for reading, especially if you got to everything 🥹🫂 I really appreciate you being there and I feel sooo lucky to be a part of this community 🥰

Please take care! I love y'all so much 💖💖💖

#zahra's posts #personal post #personal life #update #things are gonna be a bit different for a while #hope you understand 🙏🏻💖#and also that you're doing fine!#(again I don't mean to sound like I'm gonna ignore you or as if I'd be bothered by tags #that's not what I mean and I really hope I didn't sound like that 😭🙏🏻)

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hollow-lime-green · 1 year ago

Note

hi!! just wondering if you have any stsg fic recs you’d be willing to share? i’m currently gobbling up 2sorcs like a gremlin and looking for something else to read between updates but i only really trust your opinions and characterizations which 🤌🏼🤌🏼🤌🏼 anyways love ur work and hope you’re doing well!!

Ah! First of all, thank you <3 I do have some fics I really like! I shall rec them and give a little anxiety disclaimer at the end.

Fic Recs - Shorties

it would make a whole - by @diggingupgrave 8.8k, T, First Year, Pre-Relationship, Emotional H/C oh i love this fic so very much. this may have been one of the fics that really got me thinking about their characterization in the first place, tbh.

As You Wish - by @haha-funny-valentine 2.5k, T, Post-Star Plasma Arc, Emotional H/C wonderful characterization here and I am just such a sucker for H/C.

The Heart of the Perfection of Wisdom - by @zombieheroine 16.3k, T, Prison Realm Gojo Character Study I took my skin off to check and I am shocked that this fic is not like, Doing Numbers. this fic is SO fucking creative and unique and I just. love. it. Definitely a big inspiration for FIYM. It's like Harrow the Ninth but for Gojo in the Prison Realm and like, oh my god so well done imo.

Longfic Recs with Caveats

and if you take my hand (series) - by @detta-pica 40k (Ongoing), T, Witch AU, Slow Burn Caveat: this is a WIP, and we're in the early part so very much Unresolved Romantic Tension. But I really like the worldbuilding in this and I'm excited to follow it as it keeps going, so big rec here if you like Plot and are down to follow some more ongoing fics. :)

coanda effect - by @bunniehoneys 250k, M, F1 AU, Slow Burn, Eating Disorders, Drugs, Bad Choices I am probably the last person in the world to read this fic so it feels silly to rec, but I'm doing it anyway because I'm a little obsessed. Caveat 1: also technically a WIP for another week or two

Caveat 2: TAGS check the tags. If you are at all sensitive to discussion of EDs, skip this fic, but I think it's done well and adds a lot to the characterization

Caveat 3: I am not caught up on this fic. it's one that I didn't let myself read for a while (see below) but F1 has a special place in my heart (my dad is into it, I used to live in a Gran Prix city, and I have watched WAY too much F1 Lets Play content).

I've been working really shitty hours for the past 48 hours (almost done) due to research that requires specific spans of real earth time. Because I don't have the focus to write right now, I've had the chance to read a little, and I've read about 75% of this gargantuan fic in windowless rooms on my phone, which has to say something about how much I love it lmao.

Disclaimer: I am a bad source of stsg fics because I actually don't read very many. If I read amazing fic then it tends to trigger the "you will never be as good as the old masters" part of the brain, although instead of real art like in the meme, my fic is putting gojo in a minecraft hoodie and making him do the gangnam style dance. Still.

I also get very unhealthy about metrics/numbers, which I mostly manage by using AO3 skins to block stats, but I still have some moments of weakness. So I try to avoid looking at stuff that I know might make me anxious/insecure about my own works and be unable to finish them (this has unfortunately happened to me before in the FE3H fandom, and that continues to weigh on me).

All that to say, there are some really big, nice, and well-loved fics by wonderful authors currently being updated, and I have read almost none of them. So this is absolutely not me saying I don't like their characterizations, I'm just kind of a hermit.

#jjk fanfic #jjk #satosugu #jjk fic recs #stsg fic recs #fic rec

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galaxy-lilies · 11 months ago

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FINISHED THE HOTGUY ZINE AND AAAAAAAAH /POS

okay im going to put my thoughts under the cut cause OUGH this is going to be a long post LMAO

FIRST OFF can i just say how amazing and incredible the folk who organized the whole event are, they deserve absolute kudos

AND ANOTHER FIRST OFF: SHOUTOUT TO ALL THE LOVELY WRITERS, ARTISTS, EDITORS, ETC. WHO CONTRIBUTED YALL ARE INCREDIBLE

okay okay finally into the recap that was an amazing 3 and a half hours of my life

Pages 1-103:

When I first saw the heads up about how the zine was interconnected and skipping any part would potentially lead to some plot i was immediately intrigued then i was immediately hit with the other realization of "410 PAGES???? HELLO????"

the first comic was so fucking cute OMG LIZZIE'S DESIGN WAS SO CUTE AND THE SILLY SLIDESHOW HUMOR BETWEEN JOEL, SCAR, AND LIZZIE

"hold on let me make some edits-" "no let ME make some edits-"

the artstyle changing based on who was editing what, Joel just trying to support his wife, Scar purposely mishearing "cats" as "cash" absolute hilarity how i heart them all so

____________

AND THEN WE GET HIT WITH THE DOODY ART OOOOH MY DAYS CUTEGUY AND HOTGUY MEETING FOR THE FIRST TIME AAAAAAH

Grian rocking the cloak, Scar just absolutely confuzzled: THEYRE SOOOO *shakes them*

_____________

and the shenanigans between Ren, Scar, and BDubs oh my god AND THE ON GOING BIT ABOUT HOW "if anyone says hotguy it immediately turns into the logo" it never fails to make me laugh

the early days of the mutation, the proposal of the union, PEARL'S LITTLE >:3c as she pressed publish OUGH

and the trail of petals grian left behind as he considered hotguy's proposal just *splat* i literally ate up all the art and the fics and the silly silly edits in this zine THEY WORLD BUILDING IS AMAZING

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speaking of world building: MUMBLR??? HELLOOOOOOO

THE ANON'S HAVING SILLY MUSTACHES BY DEFAULT

THE RANTING IN THE TAGS

THE MEMES

now i need to know, what does old mumblr *checks notes* teal? green? look like

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(at this point it was around 8 PM but after a long day i was already reaching the point of eepyness and i thought "surely i can finish reading the hOTGuY zine in one sitting!" spoiler alert: i did not)

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immediately when i saw the G Team comic i was reminded of the council of Grians LMAO Grian being the absolute chaotic one man band as he tries to collect all this evidence, the readers seeing Scar's means of transportation for the first time, and then *vine boom* SCULK

also ARIANA GRIANDE THE BELOVED HOW I HEART HER SOOOOOOOO i love all of the grians featured here, and the fact that permit office grian managed to make a silly appearance AND his permit shenanigans working in his favor- hE EVEN HAS THE "please hold." MUSIC- iconic i tell you, iconic

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I absolutely exploded into a million pieces seeing tibby's art then exploded again because "i can't see the end of the horizon...CUBFAN135- IS THAT YOU??!!?"

seeing the sculk snail follow behind scar idly, the fact that grian's only lead is cub ordering pizza like of all leads. but to be fair it does fit both of them LMAO

i am eating the sculk texturing btw it's very very tasty uwu

it's the fact that both of them turned to each other to yell "ARSON" like of course theyre at the ready to light things on fire

BUT THEN THIS PANEL

cub just over scar's shoulder like a sack of potatoes, the match already out of grian's hand, the sculk snail also there to witness the chaos that is about to ensue *chefs kiss* poetic cinema

also i would buy this shirt

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oh my gods the emails, the emails were so fucking funny i- KJSDFHDSJK

BDubs immediately trying to screen Cub out and Cub just continuing his shenanigans unperturbed, grian at his wits end trying to contact scar but of course scar is busy and cub just assumes it's some impersonation account until further notice, TGC trying to contact them but once again Mr. Fan135 Does Not Give A Fuck and he lives to cause mild annoyances and chaos, what a guy LMAO

their littol email icons are so cute, when i saw pearl's i was like "WAH PUPPERRRR"

i havent seen many email-format type beat story telling before so this was an absolute joy to explore the story through pearl's detailed emails, grian's panicked typing (how was mans typing and sending so quickly with 365+ lazer eyed chickens chasing him like a mad man + a green gob- i mean goatman), and both bdubs' and cub's concern and nonchalance. not to mention bdubs just nodding along and going "well cub you have proven yourself...and uh- added a totally not a virus to scar's phone- BUT you have proven yourself...." absolute sillies, absolutely iconic

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THE TWITTER BEEF HAD ME CACKLING OH MY GOD THE QUOTE RETWEETS i would pay good money to see that in real time oh my god

mumblr user hermitopia-explained you will always be famous

okay i'll admit it i was distracted by the scitties- BUT the social media handles and names being remade into hermit puns and the fact he's chilling on mending beach I CAN'T

AND OUR ETERNAL QUEEN JELLIE i literally let out a small squeal looking at her she is sO *gently holds her*

birthday gorl getting absolutely spoiled, as she deserves

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scar finding a cloak just to do the sailor moon meme: iconic, showstopping, one of a kind, amazing, talented- i love these two idiots

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and as a heads up i'm going to try and separate these into about 100 pages each! so expect the next reblog soon

#hotguy zine #hotguy zine liveblogging #indie rambles #indiermables #well 'liveblogging' this happened between 7:30 PM-11 PM last night and then 7:30 AM-8 AM today LOL

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whumblr · 1 year ago

Text

Meet the warden

Crossed out - Continued from ch.1 - Prologue

A bleak and barren interrogation room. Way to break out the clichés.

Lucas glanced around, even though there wasn’t much to look at, except himself, staring back from the two-way mirror. The only part of the room that showed that there was at least some form of advanced technology in this bleak place.

The figure staring back at him wasn’t much to look at either. While he could certainly feel the dried blood caking to his face, could feel the bruise under his eye every time he blinked, seeing his own reflection in black and blue completed the full picture. The bump on his forehead could barely be covered by some strands of black hair and was probably the cause of his massive pounding headache. The fatigue was plain to see on his face, in his eyes. And, unfortunately, didn’t overshadow the hint of resigned fear. All combined, bit of a sad look there, and he looked away.

His throat was parched and he could only hope that he was going to get a cup of water without having to give up anything in return.

But given his treatment when they’d dragged him in, sitting him down here for – what – at least an hour now without the slightest concern for his injuries, he didn’t really feel luck was on his side for that one.

Just when he thought he might as well catch some shuteye and crossed his arms to slide down on his chair, the door opened and rudely interrupted any plans of rest.

Lucas glared up, did a small double take as his eyes had to adjust a few inches higher than he’d anticipated to meet the eyes of the man filling the doorway, and his eyes widened as he recognised who it was.

Heavy footsteps of combat boots echoed against the concrete box as the man slowly entered the room, closed the door. His long black coat had been replaced by – or had just concealed – a simple white dress shirt, tucked into black slacks. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, accenting his toned forearms. Sharp grey eyes roamed over the bruises on Lucas’ face.

It was the man who had slammed his head into the floor and had arres— fucking dragged him to this place.

Lucas nearly snarled and looked up at the man, who stopped at the opposite side of the table. Now that he was standing directly in front of him, the man was even taller than he’d thought. Perhaps also because of how he carried himself; he stood straight as an arrow, hands behind his back, practically looming over Lucas.

Annoyance flared in Lucas’ eyes. “You didn’t have to go to the trouble to actually come all the way here to interrogate me, you know.”

The man’s lips twitched, trying to hide a smile. He pulled the chair back and sat down across. “Don’t be silly,” he said, voice deep and laced with authority, and he looked Lucas straight in the eye. “I am the warden here.”

Lucas fought the impulse to close his eyes and take a sigh, but the man took in every small twitch of body language and nothing escaped him.

“Yes,” he agreed, his eyes didn’t leave Lucas’. “You are fucked.” He folded his fingers and let his hands rest in front of him on the table.

Lucas unconsciously leaned back on his chair, as if he could gain a few inches away from the man. The warden… So he wasn’t at a police station; they’d skipped ahead a few steps and brought him straight to prison. This man’s prison. The prison he’d been looking into. What an awful coincidence. Yeah, right.

The warden slid a folder onto the table and opened it, taking his time reading through it like he had all the time in the world and all the information was new to him.

“Lucas Rafael Varga,” he read from the first page, emphasizing each word.

Lucas scoffed mentally. As if the man didn’t know his name yet. This was just a means to show what they had on him. He glanced at the little metal tag left of the man’s chest pinned to his white button-up. N Mathison was punched in it in old-fashioned block capitals. “Warden Mathison,” he responded as if in a belated greeting.

Mathison didn’t look up but his lips twitched, not enough to form a smile. He merely nodded in response.

Lucas took the time to take him in. The man was probably a bit older than him, forties maybe. Though the lines on his face could be making him look older than he actually was… He had a weathered look about him, going by his manner and posture (not to mention his physique) possibly gained from a combat role. Military? His hair only reinforced the assumption; an undercut with longer black strands of hair tinged with grey combed back, medium fading to a full grey at his temples.

Grey eyes suddenly shot up from the file and Lucas startled.

“I thought you were leading the pack of wolves?” he grumbled, trying to deflect.

“No, no. I only joined the search for you.” Mathison pushed the file an inch away and leaned forward, noticing Lucas’ discomfort. “After all, it was best to keep you out of trouble. Someone has to protect you from yourself.” The one corner of his lips turned up in a devious smirk.

“You make it a sport to hunt down civilians?”

“Depends on the catch. I do when they are looking into my business.”

So this probably was the man Lucas had been looking for. “Your business being covering up the murder of one of your inmates.”

The warden wasn’t baited and gave an almost exasperated shrug. “That’s what you are hoping to find. I think in time you’ll find yourself reassessing your theories.”

“That man was my client. At the time of his death, he shouldn’t even have been here! I got his sentence reduced to five years, and that was eight years ago.”

That did draw out a reaction. Mathison’s expression twisted, but not in shock or surprise. It was almost in disgust. A mere twitch of the one eye, a crinkle of his nose, barely visible and quickly covered again. Mathison responded calmly: “There are many factors that can add to a man’s sentence.”

Lucas reared up to argue, but thought against it and sagged in his seat. There were many factors why they’d go this far trying to stop him from looking into the matters too deeply. But he wasn’t going to get much out of this. Not now. So he switched to another argument. “You can’t keep me here. No trial, no legal base, it’s unlawful.”

It was unceremoniously slammed down. “You’ll find I don’t care.”

“So this is nothing more than a kidnapping.”

Mathison smiled wryly at that. “A kidnapping doesn’t happen in broad daylight, in public. An arrest, however…”

“An arrest,” Lucas scoffed.

“You were caught up with a client, aiding and abetting. Things escalated beyond your control. Bonus, you resisted arrest.” He nodded at the bump on Lucas’ forehead.

“What? That’s why I’m here?”

“That’s the story why you’re here.”

Lucas stared at the man in disbelief and reality fell into his stomach like a lead weight. It’s not like he had expected anything that would ensure his release that very day. He had hoped Ava could help bail him out; they’d delay things just because they could and to send a message, but ultimately they’d have to send him on his way, all this being nothing more than a warning. But it slowly dawned on him now that this was serious. That this was, literally, for the long haul. And unlike him, they had been preparing for it.

The only thing he had going for him, the tiny bright light that was currently being smothered by dark helplessness, was the fact that no one was going to believe this. Or, well, at least Ava wasn’t…

“After all, if this had been just a simple mistake,” Mathison said in a sweet voice that didn’t match his expression, “you would have simply gone along quietly. Talked your way out, threatened consequences. No. You knew we were coming. And you chose to fight because there was no other option.”

“You can’t do this,” Lucas said, but the certainty of his tone melted away by the warden’s casual confidence at breaking the law and his own voice suddenly sounded too shaky to his ears. “You can’t keep me here isolated from everything and everyone. People will ask questions, they will come for me.”

“They won’t. You’re too ashamed of your actions and refuse to meet with anyone. The trial is in a few weeks and after that everything’s done and dealt with.”

“What about my lawyer.”

“You’re a defence lawyer. You represent yourself.”

Lucas gaped at that. “I will not,” he said, too invested in this fake ass trial.

Mathison finally gave a genuine smile to that, one that wasn’t laced with a condescending cruelty. He took something from Lucas’ file and slid the paper over the table. “Your letter of representation. For your sake, I suggest you sign this now.”

Lucas glanced almost in disgust at the paper. “I will not,” he said again. “You cannot keep me locked in here forever.”

“Doesn’t need to be forever. You know very well how long proceedings can take. And then I’m saying without the delays. Just in a few months… a lot can change.”

…Like me not existing anymore.

“It’d be in your best interest to sign that paper,” the warden continued.

Lucas couldn’t hold back a humourless laugh. “What’re you gonna do? Arrest me? Put me in prison? Hm?”

Mathison just pushed his chair back and walked back to the door, signalling with a single knock that this conversation was over. “You’ll see.”

Continued here

Still unnamed prison whump tag list: @gala1981 @chaotic-orphan @lolrpop

#quote from man chucked in prison:#what are you gonna do put me in prison?!#whump #whump writing #prison whump #angst #emotional whump #an-ti-ci-pationnn #captured #stoic whumper #my writing #crossed out

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natimiles · 1 year ago

Text

Sharing clothes with woman!Jean

Words: 880

Tags: woman!Jean (as we all want!); no pronouns specified, but reader shares clothes with Jean; pre-relationship; fluffy; a sprinkle of jealousy.

Notes: some silly ideas I have sometimes. Koco was talking about what they use to sleep, and we thought about Comte giving a whole wardrobe to Jean and how he would ignore it. And then it evolved to “what if woman!Jean”. And then here we are.

Consider this a gift to feed your love for woman!Jean, @koco-coko

And since it’s a gift, I didn’t use the taglist this time ;)

When you first enter Jean’s room, astonishment is the minor feeling you get. Her whole bedroom looked like a... cell. Only one bed, a nightstand with a lamp, and a really small dresser — where she probably keeps her clothes. However, the thing that really catches your eyes is the pile of clothes in one of the corners.

“Are all of these clothes?” you ask, grabbing one of the pieces from the pile to analyze. They look of good quality, some a little fancier than what she usually wears.

She doesn’t even bat her eye, just sighs loudly and grumbles under her breath, “Comte bought it all. I don’t even have a place to store them.”

“Oh! Well, you could ask him—” Your suggestion dies in your throat when you raise your eyes and meet one cold amethyst staring back at you. “N-nevermind,” you laugh nervously.

The pile of clothes continues there every time you go to her room, as if Jean is too proud to even try putting one of those on, but she also doesn’t want to put them to waste and throw them away or something.

And as you grow closer, you finally muster the courage to ask her what you've been wanting to.

“Do you mind if I… borrow some?”

“Huh?” she raises her eyes from the book you gave her to practice her reading and looks at you kneeling beside the stupid clothes. “No. Please, do as you wish.”

“Thanks! I promise to take good care of them.”

She wants to say she doesn’t really care about the clothes, but you have such a bright smile on your face that she decides to stay quiet. Jean swears the room gets warmer — or was it just her face?

And that’s how you end up with more clothes.

Comte tries to tell you that he could buy you new ones if you needed them, but you dismiss him with a wave of your hand. Jean already has lots of them that she is willing to share with you, and they’re all so pretty! By now, you should trust Comte’s taste for gifting clothes to others — even if he couldn’t pick his own — and he did an excellent job at selecting pieces that complemented Jean’s eyes and the colors she usually wore daily.

Everyone notices how you’re always in your “new clothes” now, happily wandering around the mansion. The colors suit you, and Arthur makes a show of complimenting how good you look wearing them. Jean usually doesn’t care about what the writer has to say, but she feels her heart clench and skip a beat.

She isn’t sure why, but she doesn’t like the compliment.

However, she internally agrees with him: you look good in your new clothes, especially because they match the colors she always wears.

xxx

The first thing you notice when you walk into Jean’s room is how she tried to tidy up the pile of clothes, even though she still refused to ask Comte for a wardrobe to store them all inside. The second thing you notice is that she is wearing one of the pants and coat that were in the pile before. And you recognize them because you remember specifically pointing out how they would look good on her.

“You tried them on!” you approach her in large strides, a big smile on your face.

“I did,” she replies, stoic as always, but you notice a faint color in her cheeks.

“See, you look as good as I told you you would!”

“Thank you.” Her eye soften for a second, but you catch it.

As time passes, Jean wears the new clothes more and more. Comte is radiant, but he tries — keyword: tries — to act nonchalant, as if showing how happy he is would scare the woman and make her stop wearing the clothes he gave her. You laugh to yourself at the thought.

And soon, you two are sharing the clothes.

You can’t help but notice how sometimes she seems to make an extra effort to match what you’re wearing, or how she tries to suggest that you wear the ones she has worn before at some point. It’s like she wants everyone to see, to know, that you two are close enough to share some clothes.

Arthur and Theo are the first two to notice it as well and point it out. Naturally, you pretend you haven’t thought about it and dismiss their observations.

It’s a silly thing to think that she was trying to do that.

… Right?

You notice how Jean stares at Arthur and Theo and then shifts her gaze to you, faintly smiling, her eye softening when she takes a better look at you.

Oh.

Apparently... it wasn’t a silly thought after all.

You turn around to continue helping Sebastian serve breakfast. Absentmindedly, you bring the collar of the dress shirt you’re wearing to your face, inhaling. You can almost feel Jean’s faint scent beneath the smell of the soap you and Sebastian use to do the laundry, and it soothes you.

You can’t help but smile, pondering what all those feelings stirring inside you mean.

And if the way Jean’s gaze follows you around the whole day indicates something, they are stirring inside her too.

Masterlists

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp jean #ikevamp woman!jean #ikevamp jean x reader #ikevamp x reader #ikemen vampire x reader #ikevamp fanfics #ikevamp scenarios #ikevamp writings

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rhiirysss · 2 days ago

Text

the scarlet sunset (that lit up the sky on that day)

Chapter 3

masterlist

ao3 / prev / next

Summary:

Five years. Five years was all the time they'd been given to prepare for this. It felt targeted, in a sense. Did the attack have to happen while the scouts were miles away from Trost? They'd only recently left for their singular monthly expedition, it was hard to believe this was a coincidence, but there was little to no data to suggest it was some sort of premeditated attack. Not when titans weren't exactly known for their intelligent minds, or strategic prowess.

Relationships: Erwin Smith/Hange Zoë/Levi Ackerman, eventually becomes Levi Ackerman/Hange Zoë-centric, Moblit Berner & Hange Zoë, Mentioned Squad Levi, Mentioned 104th Training Corps

Tags: Time-Skip to 845 (specifically around S1 EP9), Canon Divergence, She/Her Pronouns for Hange Zoë, Polyamorous Relationships that are never truly labelled, Future Sight but not really (she only really knows how she dies, that's it), kind of filler but also a push in the right direction for the fic, Canon-Typical Violence, less focused on the romance.. for now

Word Count: 3052

A/N:

this was.. actually rough to write, not because i struggled to make it but because of everything else that was going on while i was doing it who knew driving would be so.. terriying— euugh! im alive, though! and maybe second-guessing continuing on with my driving lessons, but alive and well! this particular chapter went through a few revisions cause i ended up beginning to basically recap the episode it was based on and slowly realized that "hey, most people reading this already knew all this happened, we dont need to info dump on them" and managed to bring it to a much more reasonable point so far, this is my longest chapter :)) both by word count and how long i took to fucking write it but here we are chap 4 will be here soon, it just need quite the few revisions and edits before it's out!! hopefully, you can wait till then.. enjoy your silly little reading (><) !! -ryss

━━━━━━━━━୨ৎ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“YAHOO!”

Flying through the wreckage of buildings within Wall Maria, Hange let her body take care of most of the work, muscle memory built in from years of using the same old gear allowing her to hone in her focus on the titan only just recovering from its attempts to eat two members of Squad Levi. The poor house laid in front of it was crushed through, leaving a gaping hole just as big as the beast who'd launched itself at it.

Planting herself atop a nearby roof behind him– as she deemed it, at least, purely based on its outward appearance; though it did feel quite rude rude to assume such things –her body turns towards the towering creature, arms stretched out and a wide open-mouthed smile forming on her lips.

“It’s okay! I won’t hurt you, I promise!” The Section Commander practically coos out, as if trying to placate a stray animal. Alas, her words did little to convince the titan. Rather, he likely hadn't processing a single word she’s said so far, taking her stationary stance as an invitation to swipe at her.

All that does, however, is excite her further; easily evading the attempt with a quickly timed shot of her hook. It latches onto a taller building nearby, fingers pulling at her triggers and reeling her out of the titan’s range.

Giggles leaves her lips, eyes shining in complete and utter glee; maneuvering herself behind him as anticipation oozes out of her. Her next line of dialogue is practically praise for the thing for trying to gobble her right up. “Nice try!”

One of her favorite activities, aside from the whole titan research thing, was doing this. Not the killing, per say, more-so the feeling of fresh air running through her messy strands of hair. It's a freeing kind of sensation, a rather nice distraction from the many other things she has to work on, but she couldn't let herself get too distracted now. No matter how exhilarating it could be, this was still a battlefield at the end of the day.

Snapped out of her momentary daze, her hooks have begun to retract back to her side, barely given enough time to fully sheathe themselves in as gas began to propel her forward. “Now it’s my turn!”

Her blades cut through the flesh seamlessly, the titan’s body going limp under her feet. Blood splatters out of its nape, gushing all over, heels digging itself into the steaming flesh as she pushes herself back into the air.

Landing back onto the ground with a little flip, Hange’s quick to look over her shoulders, a rather cheery look in her eyes as she chirps out, the blood staining her cloak already beginning to disintegrate into little puffs of steam.

“See? That didn’t hurt.” Her eyes are solely focused on the titan’s corpse, wondering when she’d ever find one intelligent enough to understand her. The incident with Ilse’s notebook had been the closest she’d gotten to it, but no repeated incidents have happened since then.

It’s slightly disheartening, in a way, but not enough to completely deter her from trying again.

Just then, Hange’s sight turns to the familiar silhouette of the Survey Corps’ local clean freak, watching him take down a duo of titans flawlessly. Leave it to him to be a show-off, as always. She had the slightest feeling that he’d sent his squad to deal with the smaller fry, again, which she idly notes happens to be the same titan she just killed.

Oh well— anyways!

Levi's creativity and ingenuity in battle was– and still is –her favorite thing to witness. She's not even sure he realizes it, but very few people fight like he does. In one hand, she'd be able to count how many people she's seen use the detachable blades that came with their gear as projectiles to throw and blind a titan. It's just not something most people think of, considering it has you waste one pair of your already limited stock of defense on the field.

Don't even get her started on that maneuvering technique he demonstrated earlier on, practically close to choking that titan out as he used his wires– I repeat, his wires! –to keep it still as the momentum and speed he'd gained alongside such a technique allowed him to knock it down in one precise slice.

She supposed he wasn't called Humanity's Strongest for nothing.

His figure lands eventually, and she’s quickly reminded of her role here, turning around to bark out their next plan of action. Gunther and Eld still happened to be here, so she should probably instruct them to return to Levi's side.

Her plans are– unfortunately –cut short by her own squad member, no less.

“Section Commander Hange! We need to pull out!”

…

Is she.. hearing things right? Or were her years of exposure to dangerous chemicals and close-up participation in weapon testing finally getting to her?

“..Pull out?”

Whatever hopes Hange had still clung onto were crushed by the tense disposition growing in the other’s posture, clearly unnerved by the sheer amount of disbelief– that was just about ready to convert into rage –she’s expressing at his words alone.

“What are you talking about, Moblit?”

Maybe all the stress and near heart-attacks she'd given to her assistant were starting to get to him, too. Alcohol could only do so much for a person’s psyche– but still, that was no excuse to abandon their mission! Sympathy would not save him now.

“I didn’t peg you for the type to desert after all your years of service, but we can’t just leave in the middle of a expedition whenever we feel like–“

“–A h-horde, there’s a horde of titans heading north, straight towards Trost!”

His frantic words, clearly desperate to explain himself before she bestowed her wrath upon him, were enough to silence her enraged thoughts.

“The Commander has– h-has reason to believe this is a repeat of the incident five years ago..”

Her mind was put to a halt, blanking at the severity of the situation.

Five years.

Five years was all the time they'd been given to prepare for this. It felt targeted, in a sense. Did the attack have to happen while the scouts were miles away from Trost? They'd only recently left for their singular monthly expedition, it was hard to believe this was a coincidence, but there was little to no data to suggest it was some sort of premeditated attack.

Not when titans weren't exactly known for their intelligent minds, or strategic prowess.

At least seeing the Colossal up close will give her an idea of what she’ll be fighting against in the years– or months, even, as her dreams didn't exactly give her a timeline of events –to come. That was really the only positive outcome of this repeated tragedy.

With her mind made up, she gives a small nod to the taller man, voice bellowing out across the town ruins.

“Fourth Squad, mount up! We’re pulling out and heading back to Trost!”

——————

Their arrival was met with far less of a mess than they'd been expecting to deal with. The hole they'd been expecting to filter in through was miraculously sealed up with a giant boulder of all things, the scouts being forced to abandon their horses temporarily in favor of scaling up the walls with their gear.

That wasn't to say that Trost wasn't a total wreck on the other side, but it was considerably a better sight than what occurred in Shiganshina. She doesn't think she'd ever forget what they had returned to that day. Back then, when Keith Shadis still bore the title of Commander and Levi had only served under the Survey Corps for a year at that point. Days where Hange was nothing more but a mere squad member, sticking to her lane and doing as her leader said. They'd trotted back into the safety of the Walls, passing through the crowd of people admiring them, grim faces due to the magnitude of their loses.

Who knew, it would've been the last time anyone got to see Shiganshina in its full glory.

Thankfully, the gate into Wall Rose remained fully intact, thus containing all the remaining titans into the border town. The Garrison Brigade and graduating cadets had done well with the Survey Corps’ absence, but it was clear it was up to the scouts to rid of the remaining lurkers. So many had died already trying to protect this place, corpses littering the battleground before them. Nowhere had been left unscathed, what once was a bustling district was now barren and left to ruin.

Looking over it all, it was almost hard to imagine this was where she was teasing Levi hours ago, an expression she knew was uncharacteristically soft planted on her face. She could still feel his hand grasped tightly around the loosely tied strands of her hair, indirectly calling her the abnormal she was– right before they strode through the opened gates, the crowd gathered around them gawking and staring as they left for Wall Maria.

No, this was nowhere close to the place this was before, and all it did was give her a dreadful sense of deja vu.

Yet, Hange couldn't tear her gaze away from the sealed gate, honed in on the steam obscuring whatever it was sitting there. Then again, that did nothing to stop the cogs from turning into place within the recesses of her mind, for there were only a few things in this world that could cause such a sight. Most of such would have no place being here right now, and one which had all the reason to be present in such a catastrophic event.

Well, not that she had the time to get any closer. Levi seemed to have it handled, swooping in to take down the two titans that now stood before the steaming lump.

Her working hypothesis was proven correct when the beasts he'd vanquished let out the very same steam surrounding the mysterious figure— and once more, whatever was happening was left obscured from her vision.

“Fascinating..”

The mere confirmation implied that a titan, out of all things, had sealed up Trost itself. The Section Commander couldn't deny her excitement at that thought. It proved, in some way, there was a working brain behind the action and thus, an intellectual mind inside of it that could think and possibly— even feel for themselves! The possibilities that could arise from this were endless; maybe, if they’d allow her to, she could even communicate with–

Those thoughts quickly vanished in an instant, reminded that the sight of steam itself was a sign the titan had passed on already, disappointment quick to follow as she frowned. Again, just as she’d found a lead to the mystery surrounding these man-eating beasts she’d swore to understand, it slipped away just as quickly as it came. For fucks sake, the Colossal wasn’t even around anymore! There was no need for Hange to check around the Wall’s perimeter when it could be seen from miles away with its size, which further pulled at her disappointment and frustration.

“E-eugh! I didn't even get a chance to bring it back to HQ!”

Resigned to the unfortunate nature of their circumstances, her focus shifts to the many titans still roaming, expression much more grounded; focused, even. It was around time they got back to business, already seeing a dozen of other scouts out in the field. She couldn't stay watching forever, such things were never in her nature, even to degrees that concerned most people that knew her.

“Section Commander!” Whipping her head around, she's met with Moblit, whose hands are grasped around the hilt of his blades; leveling her down with an expectant look. He recognizes the look in her eyes, can practically tell something’s clocked into her mind yet again, but is also aware they don't have much time to dwell on it right now. “The Fourth Squad is ready to deploy, we're waiting for your orders!”

Keenly aware of the nature of their current mission, she pushes aside all she's observed for now, walking ahead to join her squad. Orders are barked out, and the wind is rushing through her hair once more. Right now, all that mattered was clearing the remaining stragglers while the Garrison worked on securing the gate’s perimeter.

She'd be able to ask Levi what happened later on, anyhow.

——————

Her theory ended up hitting close enough to the truth, missing merely due to the fact she hadn't accounted for the fact that the titan could be hiding a human body in the recesses of its nape. Or, in this case, his nape.

Eren Yeager. A recruit belonging to the 104th Cadet Corps, the very same class that had graduated today.

Apparently, during the attack on Trost earlier on in the day, he'd been reported by another cadet– Armin Arlert –to have been eaten by another titan. Yet, shortly after that, a 15-meter titan appeared and started lunging at its own kind, fighting with what was described as techniques taught to them during their training under Instructor Shadis.

Although, she'd also been told by a couple of other witnesses that he didnt seem to have any clear control over his body at that point. He hadn't recognized anyone from his class, nor did he pay them any mind in the slightest. What he did seem to recognize, however, was an abnormal titan that'd eaten his fellow classmates earlier on. To which she was told it had been killed in a rather brutal fashion.

—“Seriously, no normal titan should’ve been able to do that! Not even a damned abnormal!”—

More proof to her that, in a sense, he was not some kind of mindless beast. There was a thought process behind his actions. One Hange theorized to be a culmination of all his rage; his anger built up finally being released. Could anyone become a titan if they were passionate enough? Yet another theory for her to catalog among the many others.

Not that she's met him before, of course! It was just a theory based on word of mouth, for certain cadets had a lot to say about him— Jean Kirschtein being the first to come to mind, the very same boy who detailed the aforementioned incident with the abnormal.

Going through all that happened would take far too long, though. What mattered most was the main point of gathering all this evidence.

With all things considered, there should’ve been no reason to persecute Eren any further, considering he was the reason Trost– and by extension, Wall Rose –had narrowly avoided suffering the same fate of both Shiganshina and Wall Maria respectively.

And yet, the decision to keep him in an underground dungeon beneath the courthouse came easily to the rest of Humanity. A trial awaited to decide his future. His continued existence relied entirely on whichever regiment Eren would be handed over too, and Hange was keen that it had to be the Survey Corps. Could Premier Zachary truly deny that the scouts knew the most about titans? Not to mention the fact that aside from their rather high death rate, they were statistically the strongest in terms of skill and experience (at least, when it came to titans).

Who else could be entrusted to supervise Eren but them? Most people in the other regiments had only experienced their first encounter with titans today. To the Survey Corps, that was a monthly experience they'd been forced to adapt to on the spot countless of times before.

Not that they were incapable, by any means, but this boy was a completely different territory that Humanity had– frankly –never dealt with before.

There was not enough time to ponder further on the matter, for as always, Erwin already had a plan in mind. Levi was, of course, involved— she'd take a gander to say he was the main attraction of this latest gamble being deployed. Regardless, there was something much, much more intriguing to set her eyes on.

Her mind slowly drifted to a conversation she'd had hours prior with the short-stack after the titans were all properly dealt with.

—"Leeeevi!" Running towards him, she nearly tripped on her feet, anticipation far too wild to tame as she looked up at him with big, wide eyes.

The Captain glanced behind him, in the midst of running through the next plan of action with his squad. For a moment, you could barely see the softening of his furrowed brows, honed in on the panting sight of his comrade.

The tender look faded out as quickly as it came, a low scowl now on his lips. "Tch. What is it, four-eyes? I'm in the middle of something."

That was translation for "you have my attention, just tell me what it is you need".

"You're- You're going to see the Yeager boy, right?"

"I am, what about it?"

"Could you ask him something for me?! Just a sequence of questions I need answered right away!"

"Depends on what you're asking."

"I just need his eyewitness testimony regarding the Colossal Titan. Some of the cadets told me he went face-to-face with it."—

And thank the heavens, for Levi had provided exactly what she needed. Going over the information Levi had given– transcribed by her dearest Moblit –and the third edition of her aptly titled "Dream Journals", the similarities between the two were too hard to simply ignore.

Muscles completely exposed with no skin around to protect it.

Steam that emitted from it's body, significantly hard to breathe in due to its heat.

Tall enough to tower over most structures– in this case, Wall Rose and the many buildings she was blearily able to make out in her dream self's peripheral vision.

These were, indeed, the same classification of titans she'd fight one day. The only true issue here was one small little fact that sent a chill down her spine.

The Colossal Titan had been alleged to recognize what to destroy– the wall mounted canons –and was seemingly familiar with Yeager's ODM gear maneuvering techniques. Eren adamantly suggests the thing is intelligent to a degree.

Shit, were there more people like Eren out there?

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