#anyway back to your regular program of tags | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

megwritesriddles · 5 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

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

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,”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

hey you! want to get tagged in my work when it comes out? click here! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

xoxoxo

799 notes · View notes

tomahachi12 · 8 months ago

Note

What's the story behind your drone-sona? Since she has the Cabin Fever tag, I was curious what's the story behind her.

BUCKLE UP, IT'S A LONG ONE (some of this is headcanon crap, so not all info would be show accurate)

Toma (012) was a just regular worker drone working within the offices of the JCJenson Mining Facility.

The area of the offices she worked in had drones split into small groups to complete larger projects. She was part of the group which included Nori (002), Yeva (048) and Alice (017) (I LOVE THEM LEAVE ME ALONE).

She was usually tasked with taking paperwork back and forth between her group to turn in or for them to work on, something she was.. pretty bad at.

Because of Nori's shenanigans, their group often got in trouble with the humans.

At some point, Drones began to be selected from a lottery pool to be transferred to the lower levels of the facility. At first, the Humans would play this off as a "promotion" of sorts in order to keep the drones from becoming suspicious of their intentions and keep their minds at ease.

As time went on, the humans dropped the façade and the drones began to fear these selections, given that the chosen drones were never seen or heard from again after being selected.

Eventually, Toma's ID was drawn as the next to go. (she was chosen first out of their group, next was Alice, then Yeva and Nori was the last)

Toma was taken down the Cabin Fever Labs to be used in the "Solver" experiments.

When she was infected with the Solver Program, it took her over instantly. She was quickly given an early version of the patch (1.5.8) before causing too much damage.

The effect of the Solver's code on her body left her lethargic and forgetful. Since she was patched early, she cannot use the solver, but still suffers from it's effects; occasional possession, the need to consume oil, ect..

Not being able to provide much information for their research, the humans mostly kept her bound in her locker. Sometimes they even forgot she was in there.

Before the core collapse, she was able to escape her chains and wondered around the mines for a minute before the eventual implosion.

She was blown out the facility and somehow managed to survive, not only the blast, but even the crash back down to the planet. Though it knocked her offline for a time, causing anyone that found her to think she was dead.

RIP Toma lol

After she eventually woke up, she stayed put for a few months, hiding out in the outer buildings of the facility until she was found by another worker drone.

This drone invited Toma to join his colony, Outpost 9. She agreed and followed him to the base (wow Toma, ever heard of stranger danger gdamn..)

Toma was welcomed in this colony and she lived there for several years, learning how to live a life free from human-control. She was even able to pick up an old hobby she was never allowed to do back at the offices, drawing.

The nightmares gave her plenty to draw anyway.

Eventually, it all went to shit when the Murder Drones showed up, popped that base open like a soda can, and killed everyone inside.

Toma's solver kept her hidden long enough her to escape unnoticed. She needed somewhere to go and began to make her way toward the city she saw in the distance.

( oh hi, Y )

It took a while but she made it to the City only to find, you guessed it, more Murder Drones. She somehow managed to dodge them as well and found her way to some very large doors that resembled the ones back at her old colony. She frantically banged on the doors, shouting for help as she Murder Drones closed in on her.

The doors suddenly cracked open and a hand reached out, grabbing hold of Toma's coat and pulled her inside before slamming shut again.

She was met by a group of drones all sitting around a table, seemingly playing cards. The drone that pulled her in helped her up to her feet. After checking if she was alright, he introduced himself as "Khan" the apparent leader of this colony. Outpost 3.

She was welcomed in` just as warmly as she was in her last colony, and settled in easily, but soon found this colony was quite.. different from her old one. There were.. "kids" running around, and "babies" and... "teenagers".. Some drones were even married.

She also found out that every adult drones had to contribute to their society as well, unless they were raising children. Everyone had a job, and Toma was expected to have one as well.

She decided to join the Worker Defense Force, mostly as "watchman". She was tasked with doing patrols around the colony, looking out for any potential problems or weak points that could cause a breach.

She was pretty bad at it since she kept falling asleep while on patrol or forgetting where she was suppose to be.

The others were very forgiving toward her, though, but they figured she needed a different job.

After taking note of her interest in art, she was given the job as the new Art Teacher for the school.

Now if only she could stop falling asleep in class..

TL;DR/I only looked at the pretty pictures:

Toma was part of the Solver Experiments and now lives at Outpost 3 as the resident dumbass Art Teacher.

#fjskdlafjsd #I forgot this was in my drafts #lol #murder drones #murder drones oc #murder drones oc toma #murder drones uzi #murder drones khan #murder drones nori #murder drones yeva #murder drones alice #murder drones sarah #murder drones oc y #toma art #long post

580 notes · View notes

neilsbeloved · 4 days ago

Text

so high school

summary: thanks to the new biology professor, clark signs up for the tutoring program of smallville high to try and save his grades from plummeting. too bad his tutor bails… unless, of course, fate has a better teacher in mind. (prequel to the alchemy)

pairing: freshman!clark x student body officer!reader

tags: s1 clark / pure fluff (for now) / oblivious pining / very very subtle awkward flirting / awful try at banter and crack / chivalrous clark kent / direct + confident!reader with anxious + shy!clark / biology and mitochondria mentions (lol) / food mentions

Freshman Year

Clark sat on one of the benches outside of school, with Chloe on her laptop beside him, the two of them watching different alumni go in and out of the gymnasium dressed in their posh suits and dresses.

Unlike Chloe who was solely focused on getting their data for the first issue of the Torch this freshman year, Clark was busy watching you run last minute touch-ups for the event currently happening.

Dressed in an all-black top and bottom, you had rolls of tape and ribbon as bracelets, numerous scissors and other materials in your pockets, and a rather intimidating look on your face that had every person thinking twice whether or not to approach you. Clark watched you with awe at every second.

"Clark, hello? Earth to Clark?" A hand is waved in front of his face, Chloe's irritated look snapping him out of his trance. "Gosh, don't tell me you're flaking out on me already."

"What—No, I wasn't dozing off… I was just watching the alumni come in." Clark purses his lips, straightening his back, watching you stand on a step, arms reaching up to hang a banner.

Chloe rolls her eyes, closing her laptop abruptly before shoving it in her bag. "Well, I'm gonna run over to the gate. I asked Ryan to get me a latte from the Talon on his way here."

"Didn't we already get coffee?"

"Yeah…" Chloe picks up the cup, eyebrows furrowing. "…but our resident barista probably mistook me as a different blonde ordering regular caramel coffee because that's what she gave me." She scoffs sarcastically before placing the cup back down.

Clark does the same scoff, raising an amused eyebrow as Chloe turns away without a second thought, high pitched voice letting him know that he can have the coffee if he wanted to.

Now left alone on the bench, he sighs while leaning back. Head returning to where he last saw you. Clark smiles when he sees you still at that place, though it quickly drops when he sees you being helped by another student wearing all-black.

Clark keeps a close eye on you and the other student, watching as he pats the side of your arm before leaving you there, heading back inside of the gymnasium after helping you successfully put up another banner. When you lean against the smooth wall of the gym's exterior, a yawn goes past your lips. Clark's eyes squint when you do so, an idea popping in his head when he remembers the untouched coffee beside him.

Just as you had began to put up the third and last banner for the night, you nearly slip from the step when you turned around.

"Hi." Clark breathes. An awkward smile stretching on his lips, one arm stiffly holding a cup of coffee while the other held his bag.

You blink. "Hi."

Clark stands there in silence, the smile still plastered on his face, arm still up, his mind actually going blank. You stand there confusedly. The emotion very apparent on your features with your furrowed eyebrows at slightly jerked lips. You clear your throat, snapping some sense back into him.

"I, uh—Hi, we're classmates in history if you remem—"

"Yeah, I remember. Clark Kent, right? Down at Kent Farm?" Clark nods, the hand holding the cup of coffee slowly descending as he feels his insides blossom at the thought of you knowing him. "Oh yeah… I know you."

"You do?" His eyebrows raise.

"Uh-huh. You asked me something about the extracurriculars, I think. I'm not really sure." You offer him the best apologetic look you can give. "Anyway, uh, do you have a concern?"

He shakes his head.

"Oh, is it a bad time? I didn't mean to bother you I just…"

"You just…?"

Clark swallows the saliva building up in his mouth, breathing in deeply as he glances at the cup of coffee in his hand. You look at him weirdly, shifting your weight to one hip. "Well… I saw you still working and, uh, y'know, just wanted to give you this coffee."

"It's… it's actually my friend Chloe's," Clark starts, holding the cup out with a stiff arm. He smiles sheepishly when you look at him confused. "She doesn't like sweet coffee and there was a mix-up—this one's caramel, no one drank it. It's still warm—just thought maybe you'd want—"

The poor boy gets cut off when you grab the cup off his hand.

The brush of your hand—as brief at it is—made him feel sparks of electricity all over; it takes everything in him not to combust and run around like a crazy man.

"Thank you, Clark," you say, smiling, calm and composed. "But do you have a concern?"

Clark blinks slowly. "N-no, I'm good. Totally fine."

He clears his throat, shaking off the nerves. "Uhm, do you need help? I'm actually not doing anything right now, Chloe's still picking up her actual coffee and so uh…"

He's rambling again. This time, you can't even stop yourself from smiling at him. So you look away, tongue poking at your cheek. "I'm fine, Clark, I appreciate it… Chloe's looking for you anyways."

The look on his face drops. "She is?"

"Yeah, that's her right?" You jerk your head towards the blonde. Clark quickly looks at that direction, internally cringing when he sees you're right.

Chloe is back already.

"That is her." He sighs, shoulders dropping.

Then, out of nowhere, he feels his world tip over. The chuckle that escaped your lips was almost enough to get him tripping all over the place. When he looks at you, smiling and snickering at him, it's like nothing he's ever seen before.

It was way different from how he saw you smile in front of your friends, in front of the student body (or at least that's what he thought to himself). Nevertheless, gathering the courage to actually approach you is already a big achievement for himself.

When you urge him to get back to Chloe, he heads back to their spot, an almost disappointed look on his face as he arrives on the bench. Chloe wasted no time asking a dozen questions.

Where were you? Why were you with the student body president? Did she ask you for help? Since when did you volunteer for the council?

"Geez, Chloe, calm down," Clark sighs. "Just 'cause you got your coffee doesn't mean you have to go all beast mode again…" he rubs his hands together, "I was… I was asking her for an exclusive."

"Really?" Chloe looks at him skeptically. "Clark Kent asking council members for exclusives on his own accord?"

Clark subtly watches you from the corner of his eye before he wriggles his eyebrows at Chloe, smiling charmingly, "Journalistic curiosity."

"Wait, correct me if I misheard but—did you just say Sanders is purposefully manipulating your grades?" Chloe looks to Clark for confirmation, watching him huff out a breath as he keys in the code to his locker.

"I said I think, Chloe. I mean, think about it," Clark takes a second to scan the vicinity before lowering his head to Chloe, "I've been studying biology every night in the barn, I can't possibly be getting a D- two exams in a row!" The frustration is evident in the way Clark's voice strained, eyes widened for emphasis.

Chloe sighs, Clark's right. Getting a D- on two consecutive exams is already very peculiar, more so for someone as grade-conscious as Clark.

Just as both of them think of throwing out their farfetched and meteor-rocks-centric theories, the devil walks by them. Calling out their last names while thrusting two pieces of papers towards them.

With a tight smile, Clark takes their papers and keeps them faced on the floor. Both of them watching Sanders walk away—boldly throwing them a sharp glare over his shoulder as he enters a different corridor. Both Clark and Chloe turn to each other, sharing a knowing look.

Clark flips the papers up in one swift motion. His jaw dropping the same time as Chloe lets out an overly happy cackle.

Written on the face of the paper was a bright red B+, comments on the side reading “The conclusion is nonsense. Next time, read your work first before writing the conclusion.”

"No, I swear, Chloe, he's setting me up," Clark complains, slamming his locker shut.

"Clark, unless Professor Sanders was with us when we wrote this essay, he couldn't possibly know that you wrote the conclusion." Chloe reasons out as she takes the papers from Clark's hands. She flips the front page, reading the other comments on the latter parts of the essay.

"And look," she tilts the paper for Clark to see, "His comments actually support the one in front. It's not just baseless."

Clark pauses, staring at Chloe in disbelief. He can't believe Chloe actually is siding with Sanders. Their hell-sent biology instructor that seemingly has his motives set on making sure Clark experiences the worst freshman year of his life.

"Look, Clark, I know grades are important to you, and I know it's hard when you don't see the outcome you expect," Chloe starts, keeping her voice low, "But it's still not too late to re-evaluate your study habits. Maybe you can sign up for the tutoring program, I think they still have some slots left before the break. There's nothing wrong with asking for some help studying the lessons." She gives him a comforting pat on the shoulder, letting him have the their essay.

"I have to get to the Torch now, Clark. See you after class?"

Clark nods, licking his lips. "Yeah, see you."

The first time Clark went to the council's office to sign up for a tutoring class, the slots were already full. Five names—one of which were yours—all had complete timetables already. Not a single open slot in sight.

And so he spent the entire break bundled up in his loft, occasionally driving over to Lex Luthor's castle just to get some extra biology textbooks from his library. As Clark expected, the very first suggestion Lex gave him after learning about his situation was to get Sanders fired. Which, according to Lex, would just take two phone calls and a check for donation to the school.

After the break, once the classes resumed, the slots were still full until the end of the week. The previously five names were now down to three—one of which were still yours.

To say that Clark basically had to fight tooth and nail just to get a slot at the tutoring service was an understatement. He practically had to arrive at the school earlier than everybody else. When he managed to snag a slot under Noah at 6 p.m., best believe Clark arrived at the library on the exact dot.

He arrived there before Noah did, and so he pulled out his textbooks and studied instead. Letting the time pass by advance reading on the upcoming chapters. When he hears a bell ring from outside, he looks to the wall clock.

6:15 p.m. and his tutor still hasn't shown their face.

The council's policy is that a tutor can wait for their tutee only for fifteen minutes. Any later than that meant that the tutor had the right to cancel the session and wait for their next tutee. Although that was the general rule for the tutor's side, Clark wondered how long is acceptable for him to wait before he can head back home and just study there instead.

Clark runs a hand through his hair, exhaling tiredly before he shoves all of his materials back in his back, heading over to the council's office. He spent a buttload of time trying to secure this slot, he's damn sure he'll look around and wait for his tutor even if it meant—

"Is there a concern?" Your sweet, neutral voice asks. Head snapping to him as you remove the thumbtack from the bulletin board.

All of the words of complaint Clark initially had tucked under his tongue was long gone now. The farmboy blinking continuously as if he was trying to see if this was actually real life. That you were actually looking at him, speaking to him at this moment.

Last time he remembers that happened was at the start of the year, right at the Alumni Homecoming Party. A big chunk of the school year has passed and he hasn't spoken to you since. Resorting to watching you from afar like he always did ever since he saw you campaign as the fifth grade representative.

"Clark, do you have a concern?" Your voice calls at him again, only this time a little firmer and with your arms crossed on your chest. Neatly trimmed eyebrow arched intimidatingly.

He opens his mouth to speak, stammering in the process, "I-I was supposed to get tutored by Noah at 6 p.m. but he wasn't at the library so I came to see if he was, y'know, in here waiting for me."

You furrow your eyebrows. Taking the folder from the table and looking through the names. There definitely was a Clark Kent on Noah's schedule, though you clearly remember Noah telling you earlier that he wouldn't be able to attend to his last session because of… unforeseen circumstances.

"I'm really sorry, Clark, but Noah is attending to an emergency. He won't be able to accommodate your slot for today." You break the news to him, sounding as sympathetic as you can. "If you want, I can sign you up on tomorrow's slots? Have you first one on his tutoring."

"Oh! No, that won't be necessary. I can head home now and—"

"Oh, it's biology," your surprised voice cuts him off. Seeing the subject Clark wrote on the subject column. "You're having a hard time with biology?"

Clark tries not to feel small under your squinted eyes. He knows you simply asked out of curiosity, but he can't help but feel a little dumb from your question especially when it came from one of the top ranking students in school.

How can he possibly tell you that he's not the problem—he understands the concepts religiously—but the professor is.

The professor who always praises you every time you raise your hand to answer his outrageously difficult and out-of-this-world questions. He’s sure you wouldn’t believe him.

"I won't judge, Clark," you scoff lightheartedly. Placing the folder back on the table as you continued fixing the bulletin board. "And come in, take a seat—anywhere."

Clark scratches the back of his head, taking another step inside of the office, closing the door behind him before sitting on one of the vacant seats. "Well, yeah, somethin' like that."

He quiets down on his seat, eyes following your every move as you went around the office like an agitated rabbit—fast, focused, and completely unaware of how he can't look away.

The fact that he was inside of the office probably slipped from your mind already as you focused on cleaning up the board, wiping away the words written on the dry-erase part of it.

You pile on the different papers on your hands, moving them from one side of the room to another in a quiet rush. The folder at the very top falling in front of Clark. He picks it up and crosses the room quietly. You're wiping down the whiteboard, sleeves pushed up, the fading sunlight catching the edges of your hair in a soft glow.

"Hey—this fell," he says.

You glance over your shoulder, brow furrowed in focus. "Thanks." You take the folder without much thought, already shifting a new stack of papers into your arms. "Shit, sorry—uh, what part of biology were you having difficulties with? We share the same class right?"

"Mhm, with Professor Sanders." Clark nods, clasping his hands behind his back. "Look, uh, forget biology, d'you need any help? I can help if you want. Pretty much lost the momentum to study anyway," he chuckles nervously.

You look at him with a glint in your eyes, an ambiguous smile growing on your lips before you slid away from your spot. The distance between you two suddenly growing now that you moved away. You two were barely two feet apart a second ago, now you two were on either side of the room.

Clark feels himself grow slightly anxious, worried that he might've invaded your personal space. The council office was pretty much as close to you as the Torch office was to Chloe; Clark knew that very well. And so he waits for you in his spot silently, and patiently. His hands resting in his pockets while he looked around and drank in the environment.

It was definitely bigger than the Torch office. Though it had lesser computers, there were much more storage cabinets and materials lying around. Organized shelves with various papers and documents. Numerous bulletins for the council's announcements and quick view.

The faint hum of a nearby classroom projector drones in the background, alongside the mechanical sound of printers working.

Just as he started reading the front page of the budget report on the desk beside him, you call out his name. Again.

"You know, I can tutor you if you want," you say plainly. Your fingers going over the folder of blank pages you randomly took, pretentiously looking over it.

He looks at you dumbfounded. "W-what? Can you repeat that? I don't think I heard you correctly."

"I said, if you want, Clark, I can tutor you." You purse your lips. "The whole situation with you waiting for Noah in the library was a completely avoidable situation if he had just informed you beforehand… and I was the one that proposed this whole tutoring project in the first place so I feel partially responsible for the wasted time," you end, placing away the folder and slinging your bag over your shoulder with a sympathetic smile.

Clark's eyebrows shoot up the more you spoke. It's actually the first time he's heard you speak this much in a single go. He can see the sincerity in your eyes as you brushed away your hair from your face.

Before he can assure you that it isn't really a big deal, you beat him to it. Shrugging your shoulders as you walk over to the door.

"But the, uh, the school library's closing in a few minutes and we can't stay in the office after school hours since I have to return the key so…" You inhale, mentally scolding yourself. "If it's okay with you to have me as your tutor—as a substitute for Noah, of course—I can tutor you over at the Talon or somewhere you're comfortable."

Clark stumbles over his words. Something along the lines of Really? You'd do that? hidden underneath all of that nervous stuttering and blabbering.

"If you want me to," you reply, trying your best not to sound too pushy or too passive.

"I'd love that." Clark says in a heartbeat. A smile spreading on his face, wider than his own shoulders which, considering his size, says a lot. His sharp canines making an appearance.

You bit the inside of your lip, stopping yourself from smiling. "Perfect. Talon then?"

Clark walks over to you, taking your place by the door as he holds the knob, failing miserably at hiding the absolute joy in his face. "Actually, is it okay if we stop at the Talon first? I'll just grab something then we can study at the barn."

"The barn?" You echo, confused.

"Yeah—oh, we have a barn at our farm and I have a loft there. All of my textbooks and notes are in there and there's enough room for the two of us to study there but, if you don't want then—"

You cut him off, "Clark, it's fine."

"It's quiet," Clark adds, a little softer now. "The loft gets good light before sunset, and you can hear the crickets when it gets dark. It's… peaceful. Might help us focus."

"Clark, if you ask me one more time, I might actually deck you," you tell him with a straight face.

Clark, despite his tall and buff stature, actually freezes at your word. The look on his face mimicking that of a deer getting flashed with headlights, so innocent that it actually makes you squeal inside.

When he starts stammering, you finally break through your poker-face and laugh at him. The sound sticking in his head like a melody he didn't know he'd been waiting to hear. "I'm just kidding, Clark. C'mon, we gotta catch the bus before it leaves."

The moment you take a step out of the door, Clark's hand holds your wrist. You actually freeze, feeling your breath get caught in your throat. The moment quickly flees as Clark lets go, muttering repeated apologies.

His gaze finds yours, steady and stunned, the noise of the hallway slowly disappearing from his mind. His eyes linger for a second longer than it should have, and so he looks away. "Sorry—I, uh, I bought the truck with me. I can drive us there."

You were still replaying that short moment when he grabbed your wrist. Something about it kept your mind on the edge of its seat, as if it was anticipating something you've been continuously trying to shake off since the start of freshman year.

You didn't even get to weigh in the pros and cons of getting in the same car with Clark—as if there even were cons—when your head already nods itself.

Behind the explosion of joy you see in his eyes, you don't miss the small shimmer of affect he tries (and fails) to hide.

The funny thing though is that Clark doesn't miss the same shimmer in yours too.

It's only been an hour since you and Clark have arrived at his loft and began studying. The woody and cozy smell of the space making you feel at home, especially with how the sunlight spilled inside because of the gigantic window in the middle.

Clark shifts beside you, letting out a relaxed yawn as he hands you the two-page worksheet you gave him ten minutes earlier. "I swear, I think I understand it now��basically the mitochondria is like you?"

"Good try, no." You scoff, finally looking away from your laptop to take the paper from him.

Clark chuckles, "Right, right… 'cause the mitochondria doesn't really breathe caramel coffee huh?" He raises a teasing brow, the ends of his lips inching up ever so slightly.

You shoot him a glare, your red pen checking the items on the paper. "Not my fault you gave me caramel coffee during the start of school."

The way you brought the memory up makes him smile—wider than he should—but he covers it by taking a bite of the donut on your plate. "My bad, I probably shouldn't have introduced you to the best coffee you ever tasted huh?"

"Don't get cocky, farmboy," you glance at him as you wrote his score on the corner of the paper, handing it to him after, "You have Chloe to thank for that. If she never took the coffee, then I wouldn't have tasted the best coffee ever."

You mimicked the way he spoke of best coffee, smirking at him when he rolls his eyes playfully at you, arms crossing sassily.

"And who was the one that gave you the coffee?" He moves his head, hand softly pushing the back of his ear to hear you better.

"Actually, I think he was just a random stranger passing by, never really got his name." You feign innocence, putting on your best thinking face while nodding your head slowly.

"Did you now?" Clark scoffs, eyebrows raising, "Never got his name, really? Not even his first name? Or what he looks like?" He tilts his head as he played along.

You shake your head, competing with his glare. "Nope."

The stare-down lasts for a few seconds before the two of you laugh. Clark watches the way your eyes scrunched up when you do, not letting a moment slip by.

"Good job, Clark," you say, going back to your tutoring voice as you put your laptop back on your lap. "Y'know, if you didn't get the cell organelle question wrong, I'd think you never had problems with biology in the first place."

"Please. If the diagram was just drawn a little better, I definitely would’ve gotten it right." Clark places his biology textbook away.

You quickly glance at the trunk-turned-coffee-table, inhaling sharply as you look back on your laptop. Clark's lip twitches, grabbing the cup of coffee and handing it over to you without a word. Your hand quickly darting out to take it.

Your eyebrows furrow when you feel the cup be a little too heavy. "This isn't mine."

"Oh, it's mine. I bought an extra one just in case you wanted more caffeine," Clark says ever-so casually. His lips pulling into a pout as he looks away, making himself look busy by going through the short stack of worksheets beside him.

When he peeks to look at you from his side, you're looking suspiciously at him while swirling the cup. "Just natural instinct… you know," he shrugs, "I am the right-hand of the Torch's editor."

"Sure…" Clark watches you slowly nod your head, bringing the cup to your lips.

A contented smile comes on his face when you let out a soft and satisfied groan. Your arm jutting out to place the cup back on the table. Clark nibbles on his bottom lip as he starts itching to speak again despite one side of him screaming to just let you rest for a second.

The silence hanging between the two of you weirdly calming and comfortable, like the morning of a Sunday chore-day with a radio playing softly in the back.

Then, his voice speaks. "Hey."

You look to him in a heartbeat.

"I really appreciate it… this whole tutoring session." Clark means it. It shows in the quiet way he says it, like he's been holding on to the words since the two of you arrived there. Even in the subtle actions he does—in those small, unspoken gestures that says he's at your beck and call, even without needing to be asked. "I didn't think you'd offer your time to tutor me."

You blink, forehead creasing lightly. "Why not?"

Clark shrugs, this time a little more relaxed—somewhere between playful and bashful. "You're… y'know, you. Student council officer, top of the class, all busy and intimidating—"

"Clark, I’m literally a student."

"Terrifying," he teases, leaning his elbow on his side of the couch, grinning lazily. "I'm sure I even cried when you told our algebra professor that I forgot my assignment."

You laugh—a louder, more genuine one than the first one Clark ever heard from you—and his body short-circuits. Clark swears, if given a chance, he'd bottle that sound and use it whenever he has a hard time, automatically brighten up his day on demand.

"God, I didn't know you were such a drama queen, farmboy." You stand up abruptly, placing your laptop on the spot beside you as stretched your arms. "Oh, and, your cell drawings are hideous, by the way."

"They're my artwork."

"It's chicken scratch on paper, farmboy," you scoff.

Clark's eyes narrow, smoldering his eyebrows, "An artistic chicken scratch perhaps?"

"Charming," you snort, sitting back down to slice off a part of the pie. Your eyes rolling back when it practically melts in your mouth. "God, you could bribe me to tutor you again just with this pie alone."

"Blueberry pie and caramel coffee… I'll keep that in mind." Clark humors you.

You follow up, "And glazed donuts."

"And glazed donuts," Clark echoes, nodding affirmatively.

The two of you exhaust the remaining time in the session by going over the lessons for tomorrow. Clark listening to your every explanation like you were the actual professor. The way he kept his eyes on you the whole time, making sure you see that he’s paying attention to every word.

Clark’s confident that he understands the lessons, but the way you explained it to him in a waaay easier approach made him swoon for you all the more. The topics he found mildly confusing and challenging, you went over them in a breeze.

If you continue giving him the time of the day to tutor him, Clark might consider pursuing a degree in biology.

The sun had already gone when you two finished, with all of the cup of coffees emptied and the plate finished; The clock on the wall indicating that you’ve went past the standard time for a tutoring session by an hour.

“Maybe if you didn’t take fifteen minutes criticizing my cell drawing, we wouldn’t have lost track of the time,” Clark jokes at you, handing you the rest of your stuff as you arranged them neatly inside of your backpack.

“Hey!” You glare at him, zipping up your bag as you followed him to the stairs. “It’s not my fault Professor Sanders said cell drawings are part of the major exam. I’m simply… preparing you.”

Clark responds, “Looks like I’d have to practice even more then.”

When he sees you pause on your way, blinking once before resuming, his forehead scrunches. Confused on what it was you were thinking about. Fortunately, it doesn’t take you too long to actually voice out what you were thinking.

“Good thing my tutoring slots for tomorrow are still empty,” you say with a smoothness to your voice, as if you didn’t just take an awfully prolonged time to think of your response.

The corner of Clark’s mouth extends up, eyes searching yours for an answer. “Are you saying you want to tutor me again?” He juts out his lips, head tilting teasingly. “…‘cause, y’know, I’m not really sure that’s what I’m hearing right now. You might wanna clarify just a tiny bit.”

An endearing sigh leaves your lips, looking away to hide the amused smile while Clark waits for you with a smug grin. His arms crossed on his chest as if he was expected something from you.

“I think your hearing needs a good check-up, farmboy.” you say crossing your arms.

Clark groans, one hand to his chest, “That hurts.”

But he’s smiling again—cheesy and lopsided, like he’s not quite used to this kind of bantering between the two of you. Not like he ever wants this moment to stop. And you, standing there in front of him, at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed and eyes glittering despite the dim lights of the barn, smiling right back at him.

Neither of you speak.

Until you do.

“My 6 p.m. is open, Clark,” you say, voice low and careful. “Only if you promise to let me leave with your mother’s pie.”

Clark laughs, bright, genuine, and somewhat relieved. “I saved you half of it the moment you finished the two slices.”

You nod, then started to walk out of the barn, only this time taking way slower steps. Clark following your tail in a heartbeat.

Somewhere in the quiet surroundings, between the sounds of his steps on the gravel and the sleepy hum of the animals around the two of you, something shifts inside of Clark.

Not the nervousness from before. Not the anxiety of possibly making a fool of himself.

Only something real.

hearts, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated! xoxo

200 notes · View notes

queenofallimagines · 1 year ago

Text

Black!Witch!Mc getting chosen for the exchange program

I was writing about another request but then I specifically thought about how they would try to teach magic to MC but she was doing hoodoo so here we are✨

__________

Student Council:

- First off IMAGINE the audacity of getting kidnapped w no warning and now demons saying you gotta stay here for a full 365 days??

- Unserious

- I’m immediately putting a ‘no demon allowed’ sigils on the inside of my door so they wouldn’t be busting in 24/7 without knocking🙄

- Meeting belphie and telling he’s full of shit

- “I really am a human-“

- “Bullshit, I can feel your bitter ass spirit a mile away”

- Mammon knows what’s good so he’s already with the program

- “I had this bottle of Florida water just laying around. Not like I got it for you or anything but like here I’m throwing it out anyway”

- “I don’t know if human spirits would like this whiskey but like we had it lying around in the kitchen so just take it no one drinks it.”

- Baby I still see the price tag on it,,,,,

- Leaves fancy cigars in your room and when you mention them bc you KNOW they wasn’t there before he’s like “idk maybe you’re imagining things”

- “Satan has been doing research or whatever on human magic so maybe he left there here for ya to find.”

- He WILL gaslight you into thinking he isn’t like being helpful but like he’s not good at it

- Depending on where your from and if you work with more water and Sea based stuff Levi will be drawn to you like a moth to flame

- You smell like sea water and he peeps that

- When your around it feels peaceful like watching waves reaching the shore

- Asks you if you’re secretly like a mermaid

- “Maybe”

- He can not tell if you’re joking with that smirk Mc!!

- He sees you wearing pearls and starts just like giving you more of them

- “I got these from the bottom of that marinara trench or whatever and I thought you’d like them!”

- “You mean the MARINA TRENCH Levi???”

- He probably knows how to make jewelry out of them so he def does

- Gives you earrings and bracelets and says it’s for a cosplay

- “Yeah, the main character is like this really cool pirate queen who’s like secretly a siren.”

- “Oh damn That’s sounds cool what’s the name of it?”

- “…..I forgot but like trust me it’s REALLY good.”

- He is making up FAKE anime to get you to wear his gifts I am so sorry bestie

- Gifts you with seashells

- “I mean like humans pick these up all the time right?”

- “Is there a creature still living in there?”

- “You don’t want a little friend????”

- Please go put that back where you found it😭

- You like to chill in his room the most bc I mean look at it, it’s a big as fuck aquarium and it just feels like a vibe

- Was thinking about getting you this rly elaborate bathtub to keep in his room for you

- Like a blow up mattress💀 but it’s a Victorian claw foot tub

- But then you say that you can just sleep in his with him and he’s struggling to breathe

- “Y-you sure? I mean like I can sleep on the floor-“

- “It’s your room I’m not gunna make you move and besides there’s definitely enough space in there for both of us.”

- Gets all the softest blankets and pillows from all over the house like he’s snatching peoples shit up😭

- Stiff as a board when you first get in but then when he wraps his arms around you he feels at ease like he’s relaxing on the beach at night and knocks out

- Sweats he sleeps the best when you’re with him

- Satan is immediately fascinated

- Trying to see if he can pinpoint the meaning of the jewelry and clothes your wearing just from looking at you

- Noticed you always smell like incense

- Like he knew you were in the house bc he can smell sandal wood and lotus when he walks by

- “You’re not a regular human are you?”

- “You’re not really a regular demon are you?”

- Probably gets into it w you be you’re not taking any of his shit and you’re quick to clap back

- Traps him in a corner with salt

- “Time out. Sit your ass down”

- Stops getting mad somewhere along the line and starts getting turnend on by it

- Like may just set up scenarios behind the scenes that cause you to absolutely loose it

- An euphoric feeling washes over him when he sees you pissed off

- 🙄😒 he setting up scenarios for you to beef w Radom people

- Like it’s enough

- Likes to see you mad at him but he knows he has a limited amount of times he can do that in one sitting as not to damage your relationship

- Finds the way you do magic fascinating

- Throws him off a little bit

- How you just find shit and make it work??

- “Okay so for this spell it says we need like finely aged Demonus, frankincense resin, and blood.”

- “Okay well I got pine needles, old grape juice, and apple cider vinegar.”

- ????

- And he’s literally flabbergasted when IT WORKS PERFECTLY

- “That’s not the rules???”

- “Ion need those that’s optional.”

- “Hello?????”

- Scratching his head in frustration bc like?? YOURE NOT FOLLOWING THE BOOKS AND YET THINGS WORK??

- “Listen, when you don’t have things on hand you gotta substitute. It’s like the same thing kinda if you think about it.”

- “No it’s not!! You can’t substitute mullein for graveyard dirt!”

- “Says who🤨”

- Watches you like a child the way he hovers over you analyzing what you’re doing

- He was waiting on shit to backfire but he sees you doing things with ease and his curiosity is eating away at him

- “How long have you been doing this?? For you to just be quick on your feet like that?”

- “I don’t know? My whole life? It’s just like something you do everyday without thinking.”

- His nosey ass is always in your business

- Asmo is entranced by your appearance

- He can feel the energy coming off the jewelry you wear in an instant

- “Oooo where did you get those?”

- “It’s been passed down to me”

- “What’s the name of your grandparents? I might know who it originally belonged to👀”

- Clown ass will find out he ran through some of your family

- “I remember hearing about this one great great great great cousin that cheated on his soon to be wife and disappeared forever after they got married.”

- “Wait hold on I remember that name! That might have been be lol. I seduced him and then broke up the marriage and made a deal with the wife to make him disappear. Good times”

- “HELLO???”

- Like any generational curse he’s def behind it

- “My aunt cursed the family to never find love” ass shit and he’s like daaaam that’s was me my bad let me left that lol

- Clown

- Has you charm his jewelry

- Even tho he can do it himself he wants to watch you do it

- Beel

- What a sweetheart

- Likes when it’s your turn to cook

- Giving him snacks or cooking food that eases his hunger pains

- He’s holding you like a teddy bear

- Walks into your room like 🥺”snack pwease?”

- Your ancestors love him

- “Go give beel this”

- “….i bought that for YOU”

- “Okay?? Go feed my baby!”

- Like absolutely crazy

- Satan is their fav white boy

- In an “lmao this funky little white bot got some spice in em”

- Like he does In canon like Afro beats so IMAGINE they hear him singing like Marvin Gaye and they’re like “yeah this the one”💀

- The most annoying mf EVER

- He walks into your room and is like “oh I ain’t here for you”

- ????

- “Ayo don’t just roll up in here KNOCK first??”

- “Oh Mc I didn’t come here for you- good afternoon grandma McRae, I wanted to show you I aced my finals😌”

- AND THEY WILL HYPE HIM UP?????

- Mammon is that cousin that you know always in some shit but he’s the one who do the most to help out

- Leaves Grimm on your altar

- You’re surprised he didn’t just snatch it but when you catch him bc it’s been accumulating and you know YOU ain’t put that much there

- “What you mean?? For good luck I ain’t miss yet at the casino”

- Imagine how tired we are

- Will hide Goldie there and they will NOT let Lucifer find it💀

- “Don’t worry baby I got this you run along now” INSANE

- Very “go make sure he ate breakfast this morning” energy

- See now belphie is so annoying

- Hoping and PRAYING that they don’t know about lesson 16 bc it’s like on sight

- Lilith is chilling on that mf altar and she will bring the WHOLE FAMILY to beat his ass

- So imagine they’re not beating his ass 24/7 and this is after the party when you guys made a pact

- He comes into your room while you’re busy to sleep in your bed because why would he sleep in his own if he wants to bother you??🙄

- “Hey Mc I’m gunna sleep in here they’re being too loud.”

- “…..hello and good afternoon to you too, I’m doing great how was your day😐” like he don’t ever be saying hello

- He feels this weird ass vibe in the room and he looks over at your desk

- “You a spell or something? What’s up with all that stuff?”

- “Hm? Oh no it’s just an altar for my ancestors I made one shortly after I got here.”

- Hums before wrapping himself in your blankets

- They all in his dreams whew

- He’s seeing people he’s NEVER seen before glaring at him and being like “you done lost your mind”

- Assumes he’s entered one of your dreams until Lilith is like

- “Why did you do that?”

- He was surprised to see you were related to her the first time

- IMAGINE they show him a flashback of what happens but he gets to see what we saw and Lilith last words to us

- And then he’s surrounded by people being like 😒😒😒

- He’s on his knees crying fr

- Want Lilith to beat up her brothers like “don’t mess w my baby👿” because we’re like her niece or whatever minus a few eons like her direct descendant

- She do not play about you at ALL

- She’s putting the fear of god in him before she’s like “I know you’re sorry and you’re my brother and I love you but don’t do that shit again”

- Only reason he ain’t get it worse is bc you love him💀

- They still baby him to an extent bc he is the baby of the family and since he can talk to them directly he will be asked to deliver messages for them

- but he woke up struggling to breathe

- And you’re like ?????

- Worst nightmare he’s ever had

- Getting all the other babies out the way they like Solomon but in a sneaky way

- “There he go again up to something “

- “I would never🥺” and he’s literally plotting

- They talk to like the most I think because he’s like idk how that works but they seem happy when I leave treats up there

- He runs to them when yall pick on him

- “Leave that baby alone!!”

- Simeon is the golden child obviously

- Picture perfect and so respectful

- Will leave a feather from his wings there just bc

- Everyday it’s “tell Simeon I said hi!”

- Like okay :// enough he can probably go see yall face to face

- Saving the very best for last Lucifer

- Comedy relief

- They be messing w him heavy

- Moving things around so he can’t find it

- His favorite pen runs out of ink and when he gets a a new one it starts working perfectly fine

- Missing matching socks

- Like just bc it’s funny

- They do however see he’s shouldering all this stuff that he really don’t need to and that he’s head over heels

- Suddenly his lunch feels more filling and comforting

- His paperwork seems less like an endless mountain

- When you’re not there he will go to the alter and leave little things

- Also asking them for advice on how to purpose

- All of a sudden you’re getting signs for a wedding

- “Are there even this many doves in the devildom????”

- “A wedding or union is in the future”

- “?? What do you mean by that auntie?”

- “😊”

- “WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT!!”

- Jokingly mess w him bc COME ON it’s Lucifer!

- Stressing him out is like prime entertainment

- Honorary members of the anti-Lucifer league

- Satan leaves a little pin in there that says that LMAO

- Lucifer internally sighing bc wow his family got even bigger (he is not complaining, glad to see more of Lilith kin and how she had such a long strong lineage)

215 notes · View notes

marimeeko · 2 months ago

Text

OK OK so it was not in time for Katsuki's birthday, but here it is, a little tidbit of the chapter I'm still hammering out for my BKDK fic :D

fic: When Did Your Dream Become Mine Alone

Guys, any readers still around, If you haven't noticed, I'm a slow writer but don't worry, so many parts of this story are banging around in my head and in various stages of draft.

Anyway, enjoy; Katsuki is WHIPPED and Izuku is so NORMAL about these thoughts in his head!

Taking a huge bite of his dinner, Izuku tapped through his e-mails, and found a fresh one from Katsuki. He immediately sat up straighter, excitement building; it had to be the recording of their training session at UA on Saturday.

Before they had their misunderstanding, Izuku muttered a passing thought it might be a good idea to begin recording their sessions, so he could see his form from a new angle, in order to help him relearn all of his skills, kick bad habits and decide where new habits needed to be formed. Formulate new strategies and new moves.

Katsuki had clearly overheard his rambling thoughts, and volunteered his laptop…He’d made sure he had purchased a high-quality model long ago, ever since starting the Replica suit project. He said it had been important to have a high-functioning machine in order to store all of the data, keep communication records, manage finances, and especially, keep in regular, remote contact with Hatsume and Melissa.

It turns out that Izuku himself must have gotten distracted since having the initial thought himself, because he was shocked when Katsuki suddenly came surprisingly prepared. He’d shown up on Saturday with the best recording software currently available for the model, freshly downloaded and ready to use.

And a new digital camera with a tripod.

Izuku had nearly hit the roof, seeing Katsuki respond to his small, half-formed idea, and answering it with such intensity.

Katsuki also refused to divulge the price tag of his new equipment.

“Look, you want to have footage, or not? We’re not using the camera that came with the laptop, you won’t see shit, and then your form will be shit.” Katsuki was recorded at the beginning of the video he’d sent; up close in the camera’s view, adjusting something off screen, and then looking at everything in sequence, Izuku could vividly see his ruby red eyes darting around.

“Ok, it’s recording. It’s got an AI program that will focus on our movements so we don’t have a bunch of useless shots.” He was seen getting to his feet, stepping back. The camera kept him in focus, showing Katsuki and then Izuku who had been behind him bending forward with a curious look.

“Wow, it really does,” Izuku remarked, leaned out of frame and waved a hand around. He sidled closer to Katsuki and sent the camera a little peace sign and a grin. In the present, Izuku shook his head at his own antics, with a small, embarrassed smirk. He almost moved to hit fast-forward.

Katsuki, who had of course been in his bad mood at this point, with his arms crossed across his chest, was looking sideways at Izuku and appeared slightly annoyed as he usually did. But before Izuku could tap further in the play log, he saw Katsuki’s face change.

It wasn’t much. The flat line of Katsuki’s lips tilted upwards, and the wrinkles around his eyes faded, brows lifted. If Izuku looked closely enough, he could see the rare sight of dimples at the corners of his mouth. Katsuki smiled. Really, truly smiled. At the Izuku on the screen, obliviously doing his silly little peace sign and leaning against Katsuki’s shoulder.

There was something so warm about it...It felt the same, Izuku thought, as when Katsuki had been helping him with his hands in the car. Or…in the Med van.

In the blink of an eye, Katsuki shrugged sharply and changed back, looking as if he was quickly putting back on his outward gruffness. It was at that point that Katsuki had turned, and grabbed Izuku by a palm slapped onto his forehead, dragging him away.

“Come on, you wanted to train, idiot!” Katsuki had loudly complained.

Izuku in the present paused the video as the two of them walked away, towards the open gym where they had had their bout of Catch-a-Kacchan. He had to admit, the camera really was effective at smoothly keeping the two of them in frame.

He began fretting with a finger on his lip.

It was silly, really, he’d seen Katsuki smile plenty of times even a few of these particular, softer ones. Was it because this time it had happened when Katsuki was otherwise in a bad mood? Because it was clearly not meant for Izuku to see? Why did he look so… What word was Izuku even looking for?

…Affectionate?

Well, sure, he thought. It was normal for friends to have affection for each other. Even Katsuki had his moments, his own language of expressing those feelings. It was normal for the blonde to warm up his hands when they hurt. It was normal for friends to have deep, heartfelt conversations and to be protective of each other, sometimes angrily so... Warm smiles were normal between friends. It didn’t…mean anything. Not necessarily.

…Why did that somehow not make him feel better?

7 notes · View notes

synonymroll648 · 3 days ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/synonymroll648/786724955510423553/hi-i-saw-your-tags-in-one-of-your-rbs-and-it-was?source=share

i hit tumblr post limit so i am in your ask box now. also i wrote this entire response abd then tumblr fucking DELETED it and then i reqrote it from lowkey memory.

documents do refer to fics yes <3 glad to see thats its a universal experience 😭 i might actually take you up on that and add u to the list of 7 million people i text every time i struggle w math. tbf only two people respond consistently but as long at the math hw is getting done i dont care 💗 also ur definitely ahead of me bc i am what i believe you call a sophomore

YOUR SOULS WERE CUT INTO THIRDS NOT HALVES!!!!!! god yea. them. that moment in lodestar where keefe shows sophie that memory of gisela taking him to nightfall and the three of then have that moment amidst all the selkie skin... kind of consideirng writing a continuation of that scene where the adults didnt interrupt them but. see above re: half written fics you sound so cool btw i hope you know. like

MURAL COMMISSION? BARISTA? WAKESURFING? LISCENSE THIS SUMMER? HALSEY NEXT WEEK? what the freakkk ur SO cool. cant relate to freshwater creature i fear bc i cant swim but floating in water has its own charm so i agree. ur summer sounds so cool and fun i hope it all goes spectacularly!!

RIP </3

immense sadness on our parts indeed. y'know you could ramble your fic ideas at me and i could ramble mine back at you. so we're not in echo chambers of our own brains lol. faiiiirrr i'm glad you have a math support system! my high school program goes through courses really fast, so you might get into some stuff where i'm like "i'm sorry bro i noped out of that class before we got there". but if it's, like, trigonometry i fucking GOT you bro. my geometry class hammered me nonstop on different forms of trig for a month straight and it was brutal but i have right triangle trig BURNED into my brain now. funny thing is that i can't do regular geometry to save my life lol. gotcha, gotcha, i hope sophomore year treats you well!! or whatever you call it where you live lol (sophomore for us is usually 15-16 years old, or our second year of high school)

YEAH!!!!!! BRO one of the only things i REALLY wanted for my birthday last year was shannon's official art of that scene and it is framed above my bed and i love it SO much. bestie even if it's a half-written fic i will eat it up and cheer you on /g

i keep trying to figure out how to convey through text that i am grinning and laughing and putting my head against my desk in a good way but i am failing to find a proper keysmash or smth for that. so. we shall settle for simply telling you that. anyway. the fact that i've hit Teen That Seems Cool On The Internet status is incredibly funny to me and i'm very flattered. thank you <3 i'm also quite excited for how it's all gonna go!! (i haven't properly prepped to sing along to the halsey setlist like my aunt has, but we shall endure.) i think this summer shall hopefully be the teenage dream i deserve. i was driving on some backroads w/ my mom yesterday singing to lady gaga w/ her and it was sunny at like 7pm and even though i could barely see through that windshield, it felt like what i'd been wishing for for a long time. glad my mom and i are doing better lately. i hope you get something like that w/ your parents and/or friends too, sooner rather than later.

funnily enough i taught a friend the beginnings of how to swim two days ago!! and i've taught little kids how to swim too. so like. in theory. i can reach through the screen and put a life jacket on you and some goggles and teach you how to swim in a calm little river spot lol. floating in the water really does have a charm to it! being a surface starfish is quite fun :>

anyway uno reversing my cool summer back at you!! we shall both feel joy!! huzzah!!

#ask #loveution

3 notes · View notes

hydrus · 25 days ago

Text

Version 624

youtube

windows

zip

exe

macOS

app

linux

tar.zst

I had a great week. Duplicates auto-resolution is easier to preview, and I have re-introduced a way to 'lock' a search page in place.

This release updates several important libraries in Windows and Linux.

full changelog

new build

The Windows/Linux 'future build' test last week went well, no reports of problems. It seems like Win 10 will still run the program, although I suspect a very old (i.e. un-updated) version may have trouble. If you cannot boot the build today, please consider running from source and choosing an older version of Qt in the interactive setup: https://hydrusnetwork.github.io/hydrus/running_from_source.html

If you use the zip or tar.zst, it does not seem like you have to do a 'clean install', but the build releases are changing a bunch of stuff so it is a good time to do one anyway: https://hydrusnetwork.github.io/hydrus/getting_started_installing.html#clean_installs

If you run from source, this is a good week to rebuild your venv. Users on python 3.13 no longer have to choose the (a)dvanced install.

locked pages

A long time ago, when you opened files 'in a new page' or from a subscription files popup, the page created would have no search controls. It would just be a static page that could hold files. It worked well as a 'scratchpad' to work on, but you could not easily search the files if you wanted to.

I replaced that mode with 'initialise the page with a system:hash predicate', which helped simplify things behind the scenes but makes it annoying to append new files or merge other pages into it, since the underlying system:hash stays stuck as what it was originally.

Today we fix this. All search pages now have a 'lock' icon button beside the tag autocomplete text input. Click this, and the current search collapses to a system:hash for the current files in view and the search interface is replaced with an unlock button. It will keep track of when you add or remove files, and if you unlock, the system:hash is of what is currently in view. Have a play with it, and you'll see how it works.

Whenever a new page is created with files--which usually means 'open in a new page' or a subscription file popup--it now starts in the locked state. The old 'no search enabled' behaviour is back, but if you want you can flip to a regular search with one click. Let me know how it goes!

auto-resolution preview

The duplicates auto-resolution 'preview' panel, when you were editing rules, was running way too slow. It could take thirty seconds to load up a count or a preview on a big client, every time you made a change. I've overhauled the whole thing to stream results in fast pieces, with pause buttons and faster cancel tech and better feedback. This system also now handles when the pair comparison takes a while to compute. It is pretty much all ready for 'A and B are visual duplicates'.

I fixed a couple more false positives in 'A or B are visual duplicates'. There's one edge-detection situation that I poured a ton of time into and still failed to catch, so I'm going to keep thinking about it. Please send in any more weird pairs you come across!

Auto-resolution rules in semi-automatic mode will now only queue up 512 items for 'ready to action'. This queue can take a while to build and resets any time you change the rules, so I'm limiting it to keep things snappy. You can change the limit or remove it entirely in the edit rule panel.

misc

Ratings look nicer and line up great again!

A bunch of number-tests across the program have new 'less than or equal to' and 'greater than or equal to' operators.

next week

I only have one week before my summer vacation week, so I'm just going to fix little stuff and clean some code.

#release #Youtube

2 notes · View notes

wisteriagoesvroom · 9 months ago

Text

friends i have been receiving your fun tag games and asks, thank you for bearing with me and continuing to tag me in them 🫂 i do not have the energy for anything beyond throwaway posts at the moment 😭 not sure why i feel compelled to explain this but anyway. hope to be back to regular programming soon (i.e. shitposts and stupid stuff)

#wiz.personal #hug hug and more hugs mwah mwah #bringing you all the freshest dew drop and cutest petal and warmest cup of chocolate to smooch u on da forehead #i saw back to shitposts like I’m not shitposting all the time here anyway #*say #but you know what I mean

5 notes · View notes

14dayswithyou · 3 years ago

Text

anon asks have been turned off again because apparently we can’t have nice things on this blog 🤠

To the rude anons I've been getting: please don’t come into my inbox with the intention of shamelessly slandering other indie visual novels just because you think they’re copying me or my game. If that’s something you feel so passionately about: grow up, do it off of anonymous, and send it to my DMs instead.

If I had an issue with someone copying my ideas or the vibe of my game, I’d personally bring it up with the dev myself. But I won't because I don’t see how they’re copying me or my game in the first place.

I don’t own the "self-aware character" trope. I don’t own the idea of hiding lore behind cryptic posts. I don’t own the glitchcore aesthetic. I don’t own the "soft boy = goth boy" trope. I don’t own Ren’Py (this one was the dumbest argument I’ve ever read). I don’t own the “xyz character responds to your asks” trend. I don’t own the idea of putting a smut scene into the demo. I don't own "tall characters with large d*cks" trope. And oh my god, I literally don't own the idea of creating a yandere visual novel and publishing it on itch.io.

I’m more than capable of defending my own game. I’m also capable of forming my own thoughts and opinions. I don’t see the similarities between 14DWY and any of the games you mentioned at all, and even if I did, I’d be happy knowing that there’s more content for the things I’m into — rather than it staying niche and unnoticeable.

I’m making 14DWY because it’s something I’m interested in. If that's something other people enjoy too — to the point where it inspires them to do the same — I see no problem with it.

Don’t come to me with the intention of publicly shaming other indie devs. Don’t come to me expecting praise for putting down other amazing visual novels for my sake. Don’t come to me and insinuate that certain game devs are only befriending me for fame/“clout”.

Miss me with that white knight bullshit. Get a life and fixate on something normal.

#anyways.... back to your regular scheduled 'saint is uwu' programming!!#I won't tolerate putting down other indie game devs for my own sake #that's ugly and I don't want to be linked to ANY of that #I also won't be addressing anything else regarding this topic any further #🖤 — shut up sai.#queueud post #I might trash this post in the morning since it's not usually something I want to share with my followers/have on my blog in the first plac #place* I hate the tag word limit smh #it's seriously disgusting that people think that way and believe it's okay to come into MY inbox just to put others down

260 notes · View notes

un-pearable · 2 years ago

Text

#:/ look. i get self conscious constantly. half the time i’m not posting here i AM lurking and am instead cramming things into the drafts #for me to tag and post later and then i forget #it’s not sustainable. i should cave and just use the queue #but i’ve got like a week or so of stuff i need to go back and tag anyway #ugh. whatever it’s still finals season!!! your regular programming will return after may 18th. sry folks

2 notes · View notes

stalactites · 4 years ago

Text

work in progress time ❗️❗️❗️

#having a TOUGH time with motivation lately so if you guys don't see these on my art blog anytime soon...#please yell at me #i need accountability now that schools out i've been watching this FABULOUS program all day everyday instead of doing anything #its the great pottery throw down and i WILL be taking pottery classes because of it #ummmmmm what else can i say in the tags that no one will read but i need to type anyways because i'm so so terribly lonely #and only talk to myself all day but that doesn't give me the attention i desperately crave...#i guess i've been considering telling my parents i want to take a gap year #is it a gap year if it's smack dab in the middle of your college career?#idk i just truly don't think i could handle going back to regular school #especially considering i'm transferring #but after a year alone i think i need to just like. find the joy in life????????????#instead of going straight back to *sighs* a miserable existence but At College #ANYWAYS.#ruben.txt #wip time

12 notes · View notes

cosmicstarlatte · 2 years ago

Text

You ARE The Father! Pt.2 (Obey Me!)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

->Click here for [Part 1: Demon Bros]

After getting back to the human world you realized you were pregnant. You decided to keep it a secret your whole pregnancy. After having the baby/babies for a few weeks, you finally decide to tell your baby daddy.

»Characters: Dateables

»Tags: Unplanned Pregnancy, Female Reader, Fluff and Angst, Certified Simeon Simp, Just a Smidge of Humor, Half-story Half-bulleted style

»Notes: I really hope you guys like this one, it felt so good to finally write part 2. 🥺♡

Diavolo:

Separating from him to go back home after the program was difficult but you decided it was for the best at the time, for him and the realm. It was heartbreaking and you might've regreted it a little. Anyway when you realized you were pregnant with his child, you were nervous to tell Diavolo about it. He already had so much on his plate everyday. You didn't want to bother him with appointments and other things. He had a whole realm to take care of after all. But you also knew you couldn't keep the secret forever (especially because what if your baby needed special demon care?) You finally call him one day weeks after birth.

"What exactly... are you saying...? I'm a father...? And you kept this from me!? I'm on the way!"

Understandably upset with your decision to keep it a secret from him but ecstatic you gave him a child

A family...his own little family...oh his heart ♡

Still felt guilty, did you not know how much you mean to him!? How broken he was and how much he loved you!? He would've taken care of your every need and been there the second you told him!

He arrived only minutes after the call and alone (He dipped so quick without telling Barb, oops!)

His son was so tiny in his arms! The baby shifted into demon form!

Teared up because he resembled him so much, same horns and wings!

Kissed and cuddled the heck out of you two

"You two will always come first. You're both my everything. Don't ever doubt that. And...we handle everything together, okay?"

He proposed with the ring he never got to give you 🤧

He moved you guys into the castle the same day and Barb lost his shit but in a good way

He noticed his son was a happy giggly demon but with a biting problem, especially when upset

Barbatos:

You wondered if Barbatos knew but ultimately decided he didn't. After all, he would have said something by now. You felt horrible for keeping the secret but you knew he had a duty of serving Diavolo; which helped run the Devildom. Barbatos would have helped you, you knew in your heart he would. You just didn't want to worry him while on the journey is all. Finally when everything was settled, you give him the call.

"Understood. I will visit shortly."

You didn't see the way his eyes widened at the news but he believed you and was well on his way to you after the call

He felt quite guilty and upset that you did something so grand, all alone

Nevertheless he still loved you and was excited yet nervous to meet his baby

The first thing he did when he saw you was kiss your forehead before holding his son

The baby shifted and he gasped at the miniature him, he was absolutely in love and even shifted into demon form himself

"The two of you mean the entire world to me. I feel our future is very bright. I vow to always love and protect you both."

He had called Dia and Luci to explain his absence

Stayed a few days to bond with you two (he grabbed a Go-Bag before leaving, butlers must always be prepared!)

Later moved you two into the castle to a very excited uncle Dia

He noticed his son was particular about his milk

Simeon:

You really struggled with the decision of letting him know. You were scared of the consequences he would face. You decided to keep it a secret as much as possible but one day he requested a video call when regular calls weren't enough anymore. You looked very much the same and everything was going great and that's when his daughter started crying in the background. Simeons' heard the cries before in past calls and to his knowledge you babysat frequently. He understood you had to go check. You didn't realize he could see the baby when you picked her up, you thought your back kept her hidden from view. He immediately knew. There was no doubt that was his baby girl. He questioned you about her and you tried to deny it but ended up confessing. You couldn't lie to him anymore.

"I'll see you two soon."

He was highly upset but thought about it more and knew why you did it

He didn't mean to put you in that position and ended up being more upset in himself

He loved you so much and hoped he could make it up to you

He hoped you could forgive him for not coming sooner but he had something to do first before seeing you two

He found Luke and chatted with him normally; he told him what a great angel he was and offered a bit of wisdom

He hugged the young angel for the last time

"Luke...I'm sorry and I hope you forgive me."

He knew that left Luke confused after such a normal conversation but Simeon couldn't bear to explain everything

After telling Michael what happened and being banished from the celestial realm, he finally made his way to you

Yes he was hurting from the loss but there was no doubt in his mind and he had no regrets overall

When he arrived and held his daughter, she glowed and he teared up

"You're an angel alright, a beautiful one."

You cried for him and he reassured you that everything will be fine, he was excited for his new family and he had no regrets

"I would do it all over again, and again, and again.♡"

He noticed his daughter loves falling asleep to his stories

Solomon:

You didn't keep it a secret from him actually. There wasn't really a reason to nor would you be able to hide it from him in the human realm.

"Me? A father?"

Was shocked for a few days, he never thought he'd see the day that would happen

He was happy for the two of you of course but it all seemed surreal

Was supportive throughout the pregnancy and tried to find ways to make it easier for you

He tried cooking more and you begged him not to

He nearly fainted at the news of twin girls

On the due date; all the books he read didn't seem like enough preparation

He teared up when you crushed his hand during labor

Oh he was in love when he heard the cries and even more when he saw they looked just like him

"You girls are going to run this world!" "Solomon."

"Right. WE'RE going to run this world."

Published a book called Dad Jokes Through the Centuries

Solomon: Family Man Extraordinaire ™️

He noticed his daughters seemed drawn towards his magical objects than their own toys

Also:

⬦You might also like: MC Feeling Insecure

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me hcs #obey me fic #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #◇˖・ﾟ— › cosmic obey me . ⊹

1K notes · View notes

dikansong · 2 years ago

Text

Baby blue

⭐⭐Story summary ⭐⭐

The day he walked into your pastry shop marked a new beginning for you, the blossoming of a beautiful friendship. But you should have known, humans are good at hiding their dark sides.

⭐Tags: Dubious Consent, Manipulation, Gaslighting, Possessive Behavior, Power Play, Name-Calling, Smut, Kissing, Rough Sex Overstimulation, Gojo Satoru is His Own Warning, Size Kink, No Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Cheating(?) Friends With Benefits, Mild Blood/injury, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat!! Not Beta Read Gojo Satoru is unhinged this fic is dark, No use of y/n Female Reader Non-Curse AU, curses don't exist here Gojo is super rich, you are a programmer, S&M

⭐I wrote this is one evening. Word count: 7.1k

⭐Minors please please please, do not interact

⭐Cross posted on AO3 under the same name @DikanSong

How did you two meet? You liked to think it was pure luck. Your shift had just ended and you were packing your things, ready to return home and take a long hot bath after so many hours of hard work. Maybe treat yourself to a snack and some home movies. After all the next day was your day off, it wasn't like you had much to do anyway. Just as you were about to leave, your colleague and closest friend at work, Hibiki, rushed in with urgency in his voice. He asked if you could cover for him, his sister suddenly collapsed and was rushed to the hospital. Being the only family she has, he had to be by her side. You didn't think much to it, instantly agreeing to cover for him. You told yourself that he would do same for you anyway.

The evening was turning out to be a slow one. You worked at a sweets and baked goods store. It wasn't exactly your dream job (you already had that,) but you were making a steady income from it. It was a nice side hustle, you got to meet with people and work on your social skills anyway. And sometimes it was fun. Your heart would always belong to coding and programming.

You positioned yourself at your post, putting on your best charismatic smile. You tried not to think too much about staying out so late, but anything for a friend right? When the doorbell rang throughout the quiet air, you straightened your back

"Good evening." You greeted with cheer. "May I take your order?" Your words died in your throat the moment you saw him.

He was tall. So tall he had to bend to enter the shop. He was dressed in a white shirt and black pants, expensive looking dress shoes in his feet. He walked towards the counter and smiled brightly. His smile was utterly stunning and his white hair gave him an ethereal appearance. You however couldn't see his eyes as they were hidden behind dark sunglasses.

He was so handsome.

Clearing your throat, you pulled yourself from your thoughts. The man leaned over the counter.

"Good evening," He replied your greeting. "Are you new here? I haven't seen you around."

Oh, he must be a regular customer then. "No sir, I'm not new." You replied curtly. "May I take your order?"

He proceeded to order quite a large batch of sweets. He paid and tipped very generously. The exchange didn't take long, he left but not without dropping a casual 'see you later'. You reminded yourself to ask Hibiki about him.

You didn't think much about him, since you probably won't see him again. When you asked Hibiki abouut him your colleague replied that he was a regular and that was all. Your life seemingly went back to normal. But three weeks later he showed up again, this time on your shift. The both of you talked while you put his order together. Mindless small talk, weather and news. You had to calm your racing heart a lot. It was awfully easy for you to slip up and mess up when in the presence of a stunning person. Especially one as stunning as him.

From that day on, he would visit almost everyday, buy sweets and talk. You slowly found yourself looking forward to work just for a chance to see him and chat about what ever came up. You never asked for him name and he never asked for yours. It was frankly refreshing. And you liked it. This went on for two weeks. Till one day he asked if you were free after work. Shocked, you had said yes. He gave you his card. Gojo Satoru, that was his name. Call me when you're ready, he had said.

And so you found yourself putting extra time into your make up and outfit. You'd stop and scold yourself. It wasn't even a date, you told yourself. You were just hanging out. That was it. Still you didn't stop going over your hair and making sure it was perfect. He picked you up and drove to a decent restaurant.

Gojo Satoru was bored. As the heir of a very successful multi billion dollar line of companies, his life was set forever. He was bored with everything and constantly seeking out new forms of entertainment. On that fateful evening when he walked into his regular sweets store and met you rather than the kid he was accustomed to, he found the change interesting. As the days went by and your conversations bloomed, he found that he enjoyed them. You were easy going but professional at the same. He honestly had no intention of roping you into his life but…he was bored. And so he asked you out.

So for that evening he treated you like a princess. The both of you talked over the most delicious curry you'd ever tasted. He asked questions about you, surface questions, nothing too serious. When the night was over, you admitted to having a great time.

"Maybe we should do this again?" He suggested, half expecting you to refuse, half expecting you to say yes.

You thought for a while, "that'd be fun."

And fun it was.

It was the blossoming of a beautiful friendship. The two of you became friends after that. And for a while, Gojo's boredom was satiated. You would got to the movies, hang out, sometimes you'd invite him over to your place and you'd play video games or watch a movie or something. It was really nice. You felt really flattered that a man as beautiful as him was friends with you.

Maybe that realization was what kicked it off.

After a year of this, you were invited to a friend's birthday party. What you hadn't expected was for Gojo to be there too. Your friend, Shouko, who was also invited asked how you knew Gojo. Shouko and you had basically no secrets from each other. Having being born in the same hospital on the same day and growing up together you knew each other so well. People often joked that you two were twins.

"He's my friend." You replied while sipping on champagne. The expensive bubbles ticked your tongue and made you feel relaxed.

Shouko's dark brown eyes narrowed. "Just friends?" She asked.

"Yea.." You replied. "You don't actually think I have a chance with him, do you?"

Shouko shook her head, a playful smile tugging on her red lips. "Just saying…just saying. But seriously though, I'd stay away from Gojo Satoru if I were you."

You didn't have time to ponder on her words as the celebrant dragged you off for a photo session. You hardly saw Shouko after that, assuming she'd left. After a few more glasses of champagne you started to feel tipsy and thought it best to get some air outside. You met Gojo outside. He was leaning against the wall, staring at the night sky.

"Hi," You greeted. He turned to you and smiled. You wished you could see his eyes. Those damn sunglasses. "Wanna go home?"

"You're drunk." He remarked casually, a small smile on his lips.

"Nope. Just a lil bit tipsy." You joined him on the wall. "Would you like to watch movies with me?"

"My place or yours?" At that moment it didn't cross your mind that you hadn't actually been to his place.

"Mine" You replied. "Hope you're not drunk?"

He smiled. "One of us has to be sober, don't you think?"

You giggled. He drove you to your place. You invited him in. After a cold shower and light dinner, you both settled down on your couch to watch a Disney classic. You blamed it on the alcohol. He blamed it on bad decisions. You kissed him. He returned your kiss. Soon hands were roaming each others bodies, clothes were flung off and you woke up alone with a burning between your legs and a tray of painkillers on your bedside table.

You went back to work, your mind in a hazy state. You remembered very well what had happened, and you remembered it was you who started everything. You felt kind of bad, for reasons you couldn't place. You didn't expect him to show up as usual, but to your greatest surprise he did. And he didn't bring up the previous night, neither did you. But after that something changed. The way you saw Gojo began to change as well.

Had you caught feelings? Was that even possible?

You couldn't deny it, he was insanely attractive. He could get any woman he wanted to jump in his lap. And he was incredible in bed too. You found yourself wanting more of him.

The next time you both were alone, you couldn't keep to yourself. This time you were free from the influence of alcohol. He was incredibly gentle with you taking his time to give you pleasure. When you wanted to return the favour he declined, telling you that this was about you. You felt wanted. It was a new feeling. When the night was over you asked him what you were. He hesitated.

Gojo was excellent at reading people. And as a result of that he knew exactly how to act around certain types of people. He knew what to say. And when it came to you, you were a wide open book. There were no secrets. He knew the type of woman you were. He knew you needed constant validation and affection. He had truly hoped you'd grow bored and leave. But to his surprise you stuck around. He saw it in your eyes as he rutted his hips into yours. The hazed look, the lovesick gaze. He knew you were in love with him. A stupid foolish thing for you to do.

"I can't do relationships." He said at last. "I can't give you that. Love and romance. If that's what you want, you should better go." He expected, really expected you to accept this and just leave.

Your heart broke, you weren't going to lie. "Oh,"

"But if you want, if it suits you, we can continue doing this." He offered. You were a modest girl, he knew that. You should refuse. You should walk away. But you didn't. Your eyes shone and you nodded. And he hated you for that. Why were you giving him the green light? We're you that fucking dumb? Couldn't you see what was going on?

"Of course…" You whispered shyly.

That was when all hell went loose.

You don't know exactly what changed but something did. It became clear to you your feelings for him. You were in love with him. You didn't know if he knew though, you hadn't told him. Gojo began to take you on expensive dates. When he came over he would bring gifts. Expensive fruit, jewelry, clothes, desserts, random stuff, whatever he saw fit. You would shyly accept those gifts. When he was not on trips you would bake him something, you knew he had a sweet tooth. And when he was away on trips he would call and check up on you regularly. It was like a relationship, except you still knew nothing about him and he wouldn't make you his girlfriend. But you couldn't deny how good it felt being spoiled like this. It only made your feelings for him grow.

You began to notice a change in his behaviors. He was a very busy man, you knew that much. But the times he was available he became possessive. You noticed how his expression would change when he saw you with a guy. You found it a bit too intense for someone who insisted on a "no strings attached attachment". But you ignored it. Of course you would ignore it, because you were so in love with him and wanted him to stay with you.

"You should stop going to work." He said after a very steamy night at his place that left your breathless and sore followed by the sweetest aftercare ever. The both of you laid in his bed, not talking. You were enjoying the silence, because it frankly hurt your throat to talk. Your back was turned to him, he held you close to him tight his thumb rubbed circles into your hip through your pajamas.

"I…I have to p-pay bills." You gasped, feeling very exhausted. You just wanted to sleep, and maybe take some painkillers. Your throat hurt so much.

"I can take care of you, you know that." His voice had a edge and his arm around you tightened.

You heart sank. You didn't like the sound of that at all. You knew he was rich alright, filthy rich and he could take care of you. But to drop your work? That hurt just to think about it. Out of the question.

You turned to face Gojo. He was staring intently at you. His brilliant blue eyes unreadable. You blinked to remind yourself why you turned. It was awfully easy to get lost staring at his jewel-like eyes.

"Why?" You asked, your heart racing. Was this the moment he was going to ask you to be his official girlfriend? You doubted it. But still it didn't hurt to dream. Then you added bitterly, "It's not like we're dating."

His jaw clenched. Often times you would pipe up the topic of dating to him and he would quickly shut it down. It was conflicting how he didn't want to date you but continued to act like you two were dating.

"Because I said so." He replied calmly, the edge in his voice gone.

He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, his bright blue eyes locked onto yours. The gesture was too affectionate for your liking, the eye contact too intense. He just stared at you, as if he was reading your mind. Held spellbound by his eyes, you could do nothing but blink. His lips formed a small soft smile. He raised his hand, his fingertips massaged your earlobe. And for a while his eyes flashed with lust.

You turned away from him, focusing your gaze on a beautiful painting ahead of you. His hand moved to your hair, caressing your scalp softly. You became aware of the feeling of the silk pajamas you wore. Maybe he chose the softest silk so your bruises would suffer less. Gojo was talking, but you weren't listening to him. You wondered how much the painting on the wall cost, if he would get mad should you destroy it.

From then on things got worse for you. Everything. You'd come home one day to find him already at your place. And in a bad mood.

"Where have you been?" He asked straight without a greeting.

"Well hello," You mumbled. You were beyond exhausted. And you weren't expecting to see him. How did he even have the key to your house? You didn't recall ever giving it to him.

"I asked you a question." His voice was clipped, annoyed.

"I went on a date." You replied casually. "Actually it's ready late and I have work tomorrow so…"

"A date?" He was quick on his feet, his body blocking you and stopping you from moving. You backed up and stared at him. His eyes were angry. So beautiful and so angry. You chest hurt. How dare he?! He kept you around as an option but didn't allow you to have other options.

"Yes." You replied quietly. "I went on a date." You'd barely finished before his hand gripped your neck cutting off your air flow. Caught off guard, you yelped and dropped your bags, trying to pry him off you. It was difficult. He didn't even budge.

He said your name, his voice calm. He backed you up into the nearest wall. His hold on your neck didn't let up. "You're mine. Don't you ever forget that. That being said, I don't want you with another man. Okay?"

You wanted to scream at him. You wanted to kick him. You wanted to tell him you hated him and that it was over. You wondered what was holding you back.

But you knew the answer.

You loved Gojo. And you wanted to make him happy. You wanted to make him love you back. And you thought that if you stuck around long enough that would happen, he would fall in love with you. So that was why you nodded, slowly and defeated. The smile that graced his face was nothing short of malicious. It was a sharp contrast to his angelic features. His hand left your neck and you took in an exaggerated amount of breath. He patted your head like one would an obedient dog.

"That's my girl…"

Yes. What a good girl you were for him. That night he was rough with you. He ignored your pleas and your cries, bending your body past your limits. He pushed your face into the sheets so your cries were muffled. His nails dug into your skin leaving cuts. You couldn't help but feel that he was punishing you, being rough with you to drive a point home. It hurt. But at the same time he knew the buttons to push. He knew how to make you feel good. When the pain was distracting from the pleasure you tried to focus on, he would switch and become gentler. The switch was maddening and you couldn't tell which was worse - the pain or the pleasure. When he was done, he handled you like glass, cleaning you up and drawing a bath. When he left you to soak in the bath, you cried.

"What is it?" His voice on the other side of the door asked with a sigh.

You glared at the door. "I'm okay!"

"If you're okay then why are you crying?" Gojo asked, annoyance clear in his voice.

So many things rushed to your mind at once. So many words you wanted to say. You bit them down. When you took too long to answer you heard his footsteps recede. You only cried even more.

Gojo treated you worse after that. He did things without your consent. For instance he changed your entire wardrobe, claiming your old clothes were too "drab". He made your boss fire you and when you got another job he just did the same thing. You just knew he had people watching you. In all these you know you should've ran. But you didn't. Because if you left him, how could you make him love you?

He would show up without prior information at your place and his hands would be all over you. Sometimes he'd take you to his place but nothing would change.

At first he would talk to you, ask about your day, but then he got bored of it and just went straight to taking off your clothes. You tried to get him to stay after, to talk or watch movies like our used to. But he wouldn't listen to you. He'd come, fuck you and leave. He gave you more expensive gifts, like some sort of apology for nearly breaking your body Everytime. You began to detest those gifts because for each one you had a scar or mark on your body for it from Gojo's rough handling of your body. He would tell you how much be cared for you, and how much he didn't want anyone to lay their filthy hands on you. How no man deserved you but him. He would tell you how everything he did he did for you.

He never once told you that he loved you.

You would cry yourself to sleep. And still hold on to the hope that he'd love you. How naive and stupid you were. To him you were just a meat sack with fuckable holes. You were just an option, not the option. It hurt and your heart broke everytime. You didn't know how much longer you could take it. How much longer your body could take his manhandling. You missed the old days. When things were much more simpler. When the two of you did mundane things and actually enjoyed each other's company. When the joy of seeing him was true.

Gojo on the other hand knew he was an asshole for treating you the way he was. He knew you didn't deserve it. He couldn't imagine another man treating you the way he was treating you. He wanted to let you go, yet at the same time he couldn't bear the thought of another man touching you. He hated to admit it, but you were fun. You were lonely, easy to manipulate and control. Even though you pretended to be bold he knew your resistance withered everytime he pressed for what he wanted. And damn did he know how to press. He knew something was wrong with him. But he also didn't care. The sick pleasure he got from seeing your face contorted in pain was satisfying. Your pleas and whines he found cute. Something about the way you took everything he gave you, the way you'd stare at him as he rutted his hips into you, the emotion in your eyes, the silent hope…it was an elixir he could never get enough of. You were so eager, so pliant, so demure. He wanted to ruin you.

All because of the sick love you had for him.

Who could love someone like him? He was disgusted. With you or himself he didn't know. He wanted you to fight back. He wanted you to hit him. He wanted you to yell at him. To do something other than cry in the bathroom and into your pillow. He wanted you to call him out, to get up and leave. Call it quits. But he knew very well that he wouldn't let you leave. He's too selfish for that. It's too much fun. You're too much fun. It's sick and it's abnormal, but he doesn't care.

So he continues to play with his toy, breaking it each time to see how much it can take before it falls apart. It's a sick game, but he enjoys it. Seeing you helpless, hearing you beg, being a good girl while he pushes your body into positions he knows you can't handle. Watching fear stirring in your eyes. Fear and that sick love.

Maybe something was wrong with you too. Maybe you were as messed up as he was.

You stared at your laptop absentmindedly. You were trying to work on a freelance project. But you couldn't focus at all. You felt miserable. You felt depressed, drained. Gojo was on a business trip, he didn't specify when he'd be back, he never did. You shut your laptop and walked to your fridge. There was nothing interesting there. With a heavy sigh you ran your hands through your hair. You had the urge to get drunk. Very drunk and wasted. You wanted to forget about Gojo, even for a night. With this energy you showered and got ready. You wore a racy dress that drew attention to your figure. You were proud of your body, Gojo seemed to worship it anyway. It felt like your greatest weapon. Natural makeup and dainty heels. You drove to a fancy but really good club.

The loud music was overpowering. Not really in the mood to dance, you headed over to the bar to get a drink. You thought the bartender looked really familiar. Long dark hair, ear hoops, a devilishly handsome face.

He called you name, as if confused or unsure if it truly was you.

You almost squinted. But then it but you. He was Geto Suguru, and you knew him from your uni days. Your face broke into a bright smile.

"Suguru!" You screamed above the music. "Gods, I've missed you!"

Suguru smiled coyly. "It's certainly been a while, my dear. Although I have to point out you're not one for places like this."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "I want to get drunk! Can you do that for me?" You didn't stop to think how you'd have to drive home. You weren't thinking at all.

He raised his brows questionably but didn't ask "Of course." He poured you a drink and you drowned it in three gulps.

You tried to make small talk. It had been a long time since you had last seen each other. And in that time he hadn't changed that much. He was still handsome as ever, and still chose to wear all black. Not that you were complaining, it always looked good on him. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, or maybe it was the club atmosphere but you clenched your thighs the longer Suguru talked. You watched his lips move, utterly mesmerized.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" You suddenly blurted. He looked taken aback then laughed.

"No, I don't. Is anything the matter?"

You sighed. "Just some stress."

He gave you a glass of water. You scowled at him darkly. He flashed a charming smile. "Boy problem?"

You rolled your eyes. But you didn't touch the water. You didn't come her to drink water. "Duh.."

"Little wonder you're here. Do you want to talk or…" He didn't finish his sentence but you got the drift.

At first you wanted to decline. But then you recalled the countless times you'd seen Gojo with women. The countless lipstick stains, he always complained about lipstick stains, made you wear lip tints, but still managed to get some. It's not even like you were dating. If he wasn't exclusive to you what made him think you should be to him?

"You won't feel bad?" You asked Suguru.

"Nope." He replied with a wink. "I'd be happy to help out an old friend."

You knew you were making a bad mistake. You had the nagging fear that Gojo would know. But those fears were put in the back of your mind. For one night, for one fucking night, you didn't want to think about him. No. Not as Suguru's lips were on yours. Not as he locked the door to the toilet stall you found yourself in. Not as his hands explored your body at a relaxed pace. Not while he looked at you like you were the most exquisite woman to walk the earth.

"You're beautiful," He whispered in your ear, his hot breath making you shiver. He undid the zipper of the your dress, careful not to rip it. He kissed your bare skin. There was something about how he explored your body. He seemed relaxed, like he had all the time in the world. He was very vocal, praising and worshipping your body. Gojo hardly spoke to you during sex, unless he was trying to drive a point home and he did so using such derogatory words that you couldn't believe came from his beautiful mouth. You frowned when you found your thoughts drifting to him. You didn't want to think about him at all.

Suguru's skillful fingers finding your slick core drew you from your thoughts. A loud moan left your mouth as he pumped his fingers slowly while rubbing your clit with his thumb. He was being so gentle as though you'd break if he applied force, which you probably would. Backing you up against the wall, one hand in your folds, the other peeling your gown off your body. You felt him pause and opened your eyes. He was staring at the bruises and marks that littered your skin, his expression unreadable.

"Hey…"

You bit your lip. "Suguru please," You held onto him tightly. "Please just fuck me." Your face was bright red. But you meant every word you said. He leaned in and kissed your lips softly while resuming the motion of his fingers inside you. It wasn't long before you came hard, twitching and biting your lip so hard it bled.

"I don't think we should do this."

You were still calming down from your high. You stared at Suguru, his gaze moved to your bare body, but there was nothing sexual about it. He was angry. You suddenly wanted to cry. You immediately detached yourself from him and hastily fixed your clothes.

"M-maybe you're right." You said with a half chuckle. What were you thinking? If Gojo learns of this there was no telling what he would do. "I'm sorry…I…"

Suguru pulled you into a hug. "I understand. And as much as I want to know the bastard that did this to you, I can tell you're scared about something."

You returned the hug, your body trembling. "Thank you." He gave you his card.

"Call me if you need help. And I mean it."

You nodded. Without any more words you left. You headed straight outside. Tears stung your eyes. Hurt and scared tears. Gojo will be so mad, that was all you thought about. You couldn't find your car. Utterly confused, you stared at the empty spot you had parked it. Your heart began to sink.

"Yo!"

You knew that voice too well. You didn't recognize the car that pulled up in front of you but you recognized the driver.

"Satoru…"

You could feel his eyes sweep over your appearance even through his dark shades. You felt it on your face, his eyes taking in your teary eyes and revealing clothes. His jaw clenched. From what you could see he was wearing a suit. He'd probably just gotten back. He got out of the car and held open the door for you.

"I've arranged for your car to be sent home. Let's go, you'll catch a cold dressed like that." He said. His voice was calm. Too calm. You obeyed. He got into the car and started driving.

"How was your trip?" You asked, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere.

"It was cancelled." He replied simply and said nothing else.

"I'm… I'm sorry. I..I didn't mean to I just needed to get some stress off my chest and I…."

"You're sorry for what?" He cut you off, glancing at you briefly.

You hung your head. A tear breached your lashes. Your shoulders trembled. "I…I was with a man."

There was no sound in the car. It had become deadly quiet. Then a very low 'oh' From Gojo. You knew you'd fucked up.

He drove to his place. He hadn't said a word to you. You mind was whirling with the possibilities of what he could do to you. He ushered you into the white penthouse and locked the door behind him. He took off his jacket and tie. Without glancing at you he walked over to his bar and poured himself a drink.

"Satoru I…"

"Why are you so selfish?" He asked. He hadn't shouted but his tone made you flinch. His eyes were on the drink in his hand, or so you guessed. "what haven't I done for you? Am I not enough for you?"

You bit your lip. "It's not that."

"Humour me." He sat on one of the couches, stretching his long legs in front of him. You felt his gaze move to you. You remained where you stood, trying not to feel small.

"I," You struggled for words. You searched for his eyes through his dark shades but couldn't find them. "I want to be loved. I want to feel wanted for who I am and not just my body.."

"And you thought a fucking one night stand would give you that?" He scoffed. "You're more dumb than I thought." You can't really say his words hurt you, your heart ached enough already.

"You're the one being selfish here!" You suddenly screamed. "You want me all to yourself but you wouldn't even date me! You're free to do as you please, sleep with as many women as you want but I'm not! How am I selfish?!"

"Is that what this about?" He sighed in a bored manner. He took off his sunglasses, bright blue eyes now dark and muddled with something you couldn't name. "I told you at the start of this, didn't I? I told you that I cannot give you romance. Did I not give you a chance to walk away?"

Tears filled your eyes. This was beyond cruel. "That's…"

"But you didn't, you chose to stay. And now you're acting out. You're overreacting dear. Look at what you've done to yourself."

His words cut like a knife. You could feel yourself trembling under his gaze. "Satoru…."

"I have been good to you. But that's not good enough is it? You want some sappy dude to lie to you." He chuckled to himself. "Love? Love is a curse, y/n. It's something people came up with to hide what they actually want. Did I ever hide what I wanted? Did I ever lie to you? Why do you have to be so selfish?"

"Please….Satoru….stop.. "

His eyes flashed. A sadistic smile formed on his face. "You're so fucking ungrateful. You know that right?"

This was not fair. He was turning the tables on you. You hadn't done anything! It was he who was wrong! Why wouldn't he just listen to you?!

"That's not true!" You cried. "Just stop! Stop it! Please…"

He didn't. If anything your tears spurred him on. Ah, you should've known. He loved seeing you suffer.

"I get it now. You thought you could change me. Damn, you're really that dumb?" He scoffed while staring at you like you were a stupid child. His eyes were filled with disgust and anger and hatred it made you feel sick. "I thought you were a smart girl."

You wiped your eyes. Something inside you hardened. "I'm leaving. It's over." You turned to leave, your hands pulled into tight fists.

He rose to his feet in an instant and grabbed your arms, spinning your body to face him. "No. You're not going anywhere. Is that clear? You had you cahbce to leave, you didn't take it."

"I hate you!" You screamed at him. You were sure new bruises would decorate your arm with how hard he was holding, and how his grip tightened each time you struggled. "Let me go!"

He grabbed you by the hair and pulled you to the couch. He flung you carelessly but before you could escape he grabbed the back of your neck and pushed your face into the couch. You felt a sharp pain radiate from your nose to your head.

"Maybe if I fuck you senseless you won't have enough brains to think of looking at another man." You heard him say behind you, his tone full of vitriol.

You tried to scream, to beg for mercy but your face in the couch muffled your voice. You couldn't breathe. His grip on your neck was hard. Your nose was probably bleeding by now with the force he slammed your face into the couch with. Your head was pounding so badly. And the tears didn't stop. He pushed your gown up so it bunched at your hips. In a smooth motion he tore your underwear off, the straps digging into your skin and making you whine with pain.

Gojo chuckled, spreading your lips his middle finger swiping your slit. "You're already wet. I guess I don't need to prep you then."

You began trashing violently, trying to scream, to beg him to prep you first. He responded to your struggle by slapping your ass so hard all breath was knocked out of your lungs.

"Behave." His voice was dark.

You sobbed into the expensive leather couch. Your ass throbbed where he had hit you. It hurt so bad. He raised your head, forcing your body into a painful arch. You tried to get as much air into your lungs, trying to ignore the warm blood that trickled down your nose.

"Satoru please…." you cried, hating how miserable you sounded. "Please I'm sorry! Don't do this .. please…. I'll be… I'll be good I swear!"

You barely heard him undoing his belt by how much noise you made sobbing. He filled you up without any prior warning. He was huge and you were unprepared. Even though you were wet it took a lot of preparation to take his size. A scream ripped through your throat. You tried to form a coherent sentence but all you could form were gabbled words. Still you tried. You screamed for him to take it out, to be gentle. He either didn't understand you or just ignored you. He began thrusting into you at a bruising pace. Each time he hit your cervix it felt uncomfortable. You tried your best to imagine yourself somewhere else. Somewhere happy. But each harsh snap of his hips brought you back to your cruel reality.

"You feel good you know?" He grabbed your hair and raised your head whispering in your ear. "My own personal cock sleeve. So fucking perfect."

"Please!" You cried. "Please stop! It hurts! Please!"

He shushed you. "You deserve it. Take it like the fucking slut you are." He let your head drop, his hand moving to your hips, holding you perfectly in place as he bruised your insides. His other hand moved to your neck and squeezed, cutting off your air flow. Black dots were appearing on your vision. You desperately wished he'd just let you pass out. But he didn't. He lets up when you're about to faint, leaving you gasping and choking.

It hurt.

Your insides burned with the stretch he forced upon you. Your head pounded. Your throat was dry and painful from how much you'd screamed. It hurt. It hurt so much. You weeped into the couch, your skin starting to feel hot. You didn't want to feel good from this but that was near impossible. Gojo knew your body too well. And he was hitting the right spot inside you that made you see stars.

He would rub your pearl at a pace that contradicted that of his hips, so slow and gentle it was difficult to not feel good. At a point you couldn't tell if your cries were cries of pain or pleasure. Even when it became clear to him that you'd climaxed, he didn't stop. He continued to play your body like an instrument, lengthening the pleasure and setting your nerves on fire. When it began to feel really good he would grip your neck painfully hard. His nails would dig harder into your skin, he would hit you. The pain would make you cry even more but still you'd tighten around him.

"I knew something was wrong with you" he said, his body folded above yours, soft lips close to your ear. "You like this, don't you?"

"N…no…I…"

"Stop lying." It was so unfair how level his voice remained even though he was slamming you down on him. "I can feel how hard you're clenching around me. You're one crazy slut, you know that right? You're really sick in the head if you enjoy it this much. You're practically dripping right now."

He'd drive his point home by hitting your ass so hard your body lunged forward. Pitiful cries fell from your lips, fresh tears joining the dried ones on your cheeks.

"I knew it. You're just as fucked up. Tell me, did you think he could fuck you like this? Answer me!" He gripped your chin and turned your head so you met his gaze. You could barely recognize him with how crazed he looked.

"PL…please…" You didn't even know what you were begging for. Tears clouded your eyes.

He drove his hips harder into yours. You cried out, trying to crawl away from him and give your battered body a break. He let up his grip, giving you false hope that he was done with you, only to pull you back to meet his brutal thrusts.

"That's right. No one can make you feel this good." He leaned into your neck and bit the soft skin above your pulse, leaving a very visible mark. You whined with discomfort, your body going limp. "So now, be a good girl and take it."

By the time Gojo was done with you you were in an hyper stimulated state. You'd lost count of how many times he'd made you climax, how long you had to ignore the pain. The room around you barely even existed anymore. Everywhere hurt. Bite marks, bruises, hand prints, cuts where his fingernails dug into your skin littered your body. Your entire body trembled. Your throat felt hoarse with how much you had screamed. And your core felt like it was on fire. You didn't even have tears left anymore. You just wanted it to be over. In your muddled state of mind you wished he'd snapped your neck by mistake when he gripped too hard.

Gojo stared at your naked body, sweat covering your skin in a translucent second skin, his marks littering your body with bruises and he felt a sense of pride. Something about seeing you looking so small and broken made him want to protect you forever. To shield you from the outside world. Even covered in his marks and fluids, you looked demure. You were so beautiful, even though he didn't tell you that.

He ran a shower and gently washed your body. Everywhere hurt but somehow his hands soothed your skin. He prepared a soothing bath, scooped you up and placed you in the bathtub. He joined you, holding you as physically close as possible. He kissed your hair and told you how much he cared for you. And how this was all your fault. And he told you how you'll spend the rest of your days with him, how he'd arranged for your things to be moved in. That way you'd never leave. Ever. And no man would ever get to touch you again.

You barely even heard him, your ears still ringing from the amount of times you'd screamed and nearly had your brain fried with pleasure.

He turned your head and kissed the side of your mouth. His gaze was soft, almost loving. "My perfect doll," He said. "Made for me, all for me."

Turns out you still had a tear left in you. It fell from your eye, he flicked it away.

"Don't worry, you'll be safe with me."

You didn't have even the energy to move your arms. Yet you smiled at him, a tired smile. He kissed your temple.

"I love you." He whispered against your skin. He meant it. After all, you were covered in evidence of his love.

And you believed him.

#gojo satoru #jjk smut #one shot smut #angst #drabble #hurt/comfort #gojo is a menace #i wrote this so fast #unrequited affection #heartache #I need to bleach my eyes

180 notes · View notes