#incoordination

[kunikisss]

for ONCE in my life i chose a different route for my daily walk and found this puppy on the side of the road and i asked around in the nearby houses if they know whose it was, but they DIDN'T and then a lady told me that somebody probably left it there and oh my god how can you do that but whatever it's my responsibility now. it's so stupid & stinky & small i don't know what to do with it

i couldn't get a proper fucking picture because it kept SHAKING

[pseudowho]

The Cock Ring

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"Hey," you whisper to him, the lights in the living room dim as he begins to bear down over you, your kisses moving from 'I've missed you', to 'fuck, I've really missed you' in under a minute. He hums questioningly, dipping down to nuzzle at your neck, trapping you down with his hips and twitching cock.

"I...bought something today. Close your eyes."

He pulls back momentarily, giving you a shrewd questioning look. You narrow your eyes at him, smiling, and move to close your legs. He's quick to play along.

"Alright, alright..." he sighs, but his breath catches when he feels you move to unzip him, the tips of your fingers grazing over his cock, hardening in his boxers. By the time you've fished his cock out, he's completely hard, his arms trembling as he suspends himself above you.

He gasps to feel something tight being stretched over his cockhead, being guided down and gently released at the base of his cock and balls. He's shuddering as he feels the blood thump through his rigid cock, in a way he hasn't before. You take advantage of his surprise, to push him back to the sofa, pushing his knees apart so you can kneel on the floor between them.

"Oh f-fuck...darling, I--"

"...shhhhh. I want to play with you."

The cock ring is tight, and his length has never looked so strained, so enormous and jerking weakly against his belly. He presses two fingers to the bridge of his nose, taking a single shaky breath in and out. His fists clench, his arms stretching out along the back of the sofa. Seeing you between his legs, eyes dewy and licking your lips at the sight of his engorged cock...he groans.

You hold him in your hand, feeling the weight of him, examining him with hungry curiosity. You can't help the shudder that leaves you as he whimpers, his hands furiously clenching and unclenching, face twisted in euphoric agony, squirming above you. You pump silky lube into your hands, far too much of it. Your eyes flick up to him as you wrap your fingers around his length again.

The way he moans as your wet little hand masturbates his rapidly reddening length, gets you through so many dark nights alone after this. He gasps, shuddering, hair mussed and flicking over his forehead, whining incoordinate babble at you.

"You're so beautiful," you whisper to him, pressing a kiss to the tip of his cock, glossing your lips with his salty pre-cum, "...and so big...d'you wanna cum inside me, or...?"

"--I--I don't--I can't-- fuck, my love I...help me--"

He's offered a choice, and is woefully unable to decide for himself, every spark of pleasure aggressively amplified by the cuff trapping blood in his aching cock and balls. He humps up against the air spontaneously when you decide for him, letting go of his cock while he curses and sweats. He begs, incomprehensible nonsense, his cock too sore and too tight to be touched by anything less wet and velvety than your pussy.

You stand, undressing slowly before him, stripteasing, brushing yourself so softly against his poor electrified body. By the time you're straddling his lap, he's almost ready to spill.

He grasps your hips, holding you close with trembling desperation, afraid you'll leave him whimpering with a weeping engorged cock and balls like this.

"--please, darling-- I'll do anything--" You hush him again, a finger on his lips, and he bites it between his teeth, eyes fiery. You can feel him yank you above his cock, his arms locked over your hips to force you down.

You smirk, laughing and locking your knees, and he growls as you fight back against him, his eyes fixed on where he cock almost sheathes inside you.

"...no more fucking around," he chokes out, ready to burst, his length twitching against your entrance. He lets go of your hips briefly to bat your knees aside, and you fall with a squeak, crying out as you immediately impale on his slippery cock. He curses, spitting with need, feeling himself bottom out instantly. You mewl and twist, totally unable to release yourself from his savage insistence.

He's a pathetic mess in seconds, ramming you down onto him, thrusting up, sloppy and wet as his hypersensitive cock struggles to take the pleasure. He watches you squeak and cling onto him, breasts bouncing with his animalistic fucks, reaching out for him to anchor you, and he can't take it anymore it's just too much and his cock feels like it'll explode if he doesn't cum soon and--

He finishes with a shout, cumming uncontrollably. His moans trail off into fractured whimpers, his cock slipping out mid thrust, half of his seed spurting inside you and half spattering out onto your belly and mound. You're drenched in dripping thick white, his balls throbbing and tight and full inside the cock ring. He groans, stuttering and husky, face twisted into a desperate snarl at having been reduced to such a sloppy mess.

He wets his fingers with his cum, lathering it between your folds before reaching aside, grabbing the vibrating wand that you keep in the bag. He grips your wrists together in one hand, maxing the vibrations out on the wand and teasing it over your folds.

"Think it's funny, making me hypersensitive, do you? Let's see who's laughing, now."

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-- Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru, Higuruma Hiromi, Okkotsu Yuuta, Kong Shiu

[darylssunshine]

Ride a Cowboy

genre: almost smut but like technically not

non-apocalypse au

can be imagined as any era!

word count: 1.4k

summary: Daryl has fun with you on a bar date.

Glasses clinking and joyous conversation filled the air of the club while you eyed Daryl down his fourth shot of vodka, barely grimacing as it went down his throat.

“How can you do that? I've only had two shots and my mouth tastes literally disgusting right now.” You chuckled at the tolerance of your boyfriend, sipping your sweet tea to get the taste out of your mouth.

“Years of practice, sweetheart.” He retorted, leaning his elbows on the bar in front of him and flicking a piece of hair out of his eyes.

Daryl had been wanting to take you on a date for a while, and it was his choice for the location this time. So, of course, you and him had ended up at a southern style club a couple miles into town. It was very old-fashioned, with all wooden furniture and brick walls, adorned with framed photos of the owners, along with iconic landmarks of the surrounding area. The lights, however, were colorful and energetic, flashing along with the beat of the music at times. The bar area took up half of the building, while the other half housed a mechanical bull that was currently inactive.

With your attire being black skinny jeans, a band tank, and a black cowboy hat you stole from Daryl, the regulars could tell that this wasn't your scene. Juxtaposed with Daryl's rugged dark red flannel that fit his biceps just right thrown over a v-neck and blue jeans, you two were a sight to see.

You were broken out of your thoughts by a man over by the bull with a microphone, his voice loud enough to be heard over Low blaring over the speakers. You snapped your head over to his direction, your boyfriend's head moving slightly slower than yours.

“Alright, y'all! Bessie over here is finally up ‘n runnin’ and ready for a ridin'! Any of you folks wanna give ‘er a ride? Show ‘er a good time?” The man in the beige cowboy hat gave a wink and a few women sitting at surrounding tables shouted and whistled.

“Oh my God, Dar, can we? Please??” You gasped, eyes gradually lighting up as you shook his bicep, signaling your excitement.

He chuckled in response. “(Y/N). Really? Ya wanna ride the bull?”

“Yeah it'll be fun!!”

A raised eyebrow was all you got in response.

“If you do it with me, I'll pay for your tab.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and chuckled lightly. He then suddenly downed his fifth shot and placed it down on the bar harshly. “Aight. Fuck it. Le’s go.”

You immediately beamed and jumped off your barstool and basically pulled Daryl off of his, stumbling slightly from inebriation and the sudden incoordination. Daryl could only kind of keep up with the pace of your speed walking.

“Us! Us! We will!” You shouted, dodging a few groups of casually dancing club goers.

“Oh, we've got some volunteers!” A few patrons that were paying attention whooped and applauded your bravery. “Step right up!” He announced, motioning to an opening in the inflatable, cushiony material that surrounded the bull to avoid injury. “You better hold on, little lady.” the announcer said quietly to you, followed by a wink. You smiled and rolled your eyes while walking across the inflatable floor to the bull.

The bull was slightly elevated, so you were having trouble mounting it, and Daryl could tell. He let you try and struggle for a few moments before lifting you by the waist and placing you on the bull, the sudden gesture causing you to giggle and grip one of the bulls ears for balance. You felt the bull jostle and then settle, signaling that Daryl had hopped on behind you. You blushed at the feeling of his hands holding your hips.

“Y’all ready?!” The announcer shouted, talking to you and Daryl, but also everyone else in the bar, including the small crowd that surrounded the bull. You grinned and gave a thumbs up in the announcer's direction. “Alright! Hold on, you two!”

The bull then whirred to life and rose a couple inches higher than it already was. You kept both hands secured to it’s ears in front of you, thanking whatever deity that was listening that Daryl had agreed to go on with you.

Then, it began to move.

Startled, you gasped and moved your hands to the handle in front of you for more balance. You slowly got used to the up and down diagonal movement, even taking one of your hands off the handle to raise it above your head, only to return it a couple seconds on a particularly deep downward slope. Meanwhile, Daryl was calm, barely reacting to the movement at all, instead choosing to keep his hands firmly planted on your waist to ensure your security. He softly chuckled in your ear at your inexperience.

“Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ll make sure ya don’t fall off.”

You felt your blush grow impossibly bigger. What does that mean?

He started by stealing back his hat, placing it on his head and returning his hand to your shoulder and squeezing it. His hand then snaked to your throat, engulfing it with his large fingers and making your head lean back. Your eyes widened and your breath hitched.

“Dar we’re… we’re in public.”

He bit your ear lobe in retaliation. “Ya think I care?” Your airflow was then slightly restricted, and you sighed in pleasure.

“Yeah. Ya like it, ya dirty little slut.”

He then took a hold of your hair and pulled, continuing to leave your neck exposed, and cockily put the other hand in the air. Your eyes had closed and your hands had migrated to his knees.

The patrons surrounding the bull cheered and whooped at Daryl’s action, a few women squealing.

“Everyone's gonna know who ya belong to.”

Your head was then tugged to the side and his lips were hungrily latched to your neck, sucking hard and adding a good amount of teeth so that when he pulled away, there was a decent sized purple mark left in its wake, growing deeper by the minute. You let a small moan escape your lips and Daryl huffed.

He then had an idea.

The brunette let you and the crowd calm down a bit, riding the bucking bronco how it was intended. He waited until the bull moved diagonally downward, then he strategically flung himself to the front of the bull and moved his legs on top of yours, earning another cheer from the crowd. You, on the other hand, were absolutely stunned, staring at him with your mouth agape. Your heart was going a million miles a minute, and he could tell. He loved it.

“Wha’d I say, darlin’? Years of practice.”

The sporadic thrusts of the bull now had a new intensity to them, Daryl’s bulge clearly being felt through your thin jeans. You steadied yourself by gripping Daryl’s shoulders and looking at him with half-lidded, lust-filled eyes. Daryl smirked, leaned down to your ear, and grumbled, “What’s wrong, sunshine? Thought ya was worried ‘bout bein’ in public.” He bit your cartilage for extra measure and continued to smirk down at you, proud of the needy little fuck doll his actions have created.

Daryl’s lustful gaze along with the thrusts of the bull and the cheers of the bull were all too much to handle, so you shamelessly latched your lips with his with intensity, something that he gladly returned. Both of you barely even registered the roar of the crowd while your hands were tangled in his hair and his hands firmly held your torso.

Right after Daryl had drunkenly and fervently introduced tongue into the mix and was already winning the battle of dominance, an especially quick jolt of the bull had you falling off the side. You tried to stabilize yourself by gripping Daryl’s shoulders again, but that just caused him to fall as well, ironically, right on top of you.

You both gazed at each other longingly for a few moments before finally registering your surroundings. He stood up first and held out a hand to help you stand as well. The crowd was wild, some of them waving their cowboy hats in the air in excitement. Daryl snicked. He wrapped a heavy arm around your shoulders and used his other hand to take his hat off and return it to your head. Almost like he was showing off a shiny gold trophy that he had just won for his performance.

The announcer beamed. “Holy shit! We haven’t seen that level of ridin’ in a while, literally.”

Daryl looked over at you and winked.

You and him will definitely be returning soon.

[sweetimpurity]

Robin Hood: A quest for love and freedom

A Miguel O'hara Fairytale Chapter 1

Ever since the war started, the kingdom is in ruin and the King is far away. With no-one to protect them from the evil Sheriff taking over the throne. Who will save them? Will he be able to do it and preserve his love with the girl he's been dreaming about for a decade?

w.c. 5k masterlist

“It’s that Hood!” “Don’t let the Bastard get away!” The guards shout, chasing him through the castle halls and corridors. All this for a small sack of gold coin. A small sum that could change a poor village family’s life around. He’s been doing this for months. Since he got back from the war, the crusade. The seemingly endless trek with the promise of fortune only to be confronted with the stunning reality that the grail might not even be real in the first place. His loyalty to his king and country blinding him to harrowing truth. 

But he’s back now. Back in Nottingham. With a new mission, a new war. A determination to change the times. To steal from the rich and give to the poor!!

“Agh!” He grunts, climbing up into a castle window, overlooking the castle grounds, the ground far below coming into dizzying focus, his eyes on the towers across the way. It's a longshot but he’s made further jumps before in higher stakes than this. He can make the jump if he just- just-

“Stop him!!” A guard yells and they ascend on him like hounds running down the corridor from both ends. Their boots stomping and metal clanging. Armor and swords and a furious desperation to finally get their hands on him. Without a chance to think it through any further, he’s leaping across the open space, everything almost slowed, his long legs extending as if to push him further. To get him there. Guards watching in awe and horror as he makes it across. Like a flash of dark green, a shadow in the night, his silhouette whispering over the cobblestone in the moonlight. The top of the castle wall catching under his arms. He holds on with a grunt of pain at the stress on his muscles, grabbing onto the other side with all his might. His boots sliding over the stone and shoulders aching from the strain. Hanging onto the ledge of the opposing wall and pulling himself up. “You won’t get away so easily Robin!” One of them shouts through the window, watching him climb over the castle wall. He only chuckles, glancing back over his shoulder while still keeping his face concealed in shadow under his hat. No one’s seen his face, they only know the name. Robin Hood. If that’s even his real name at all. 

Then he’s gone. From what they can tell. Gone into the night of Sherwood forest most likely. “Send the dogs out! I want him caught tonight! Have them search the grounds!” The Captain shouts in anger. The guards rushing around, metal clanging and boots thumping on the stone floors. A mess of incoordination and desperation. And yet no Hood to present his ‘majesty’. The guards disperse, with the determination to find Robin in the edges of the forest. Even in the dark of night, they won’t give up, they know what happens if they don’t find the infamous outlaw soon.

…

“That could’ve been bad…” Miguel mumbles softly to himself, his usual sarcastic manner coming out even in the aftermath of trouble. Still hanging onto the edge of the wall. Staying up in the darkness where the light from their torches below doesn’t even reach the soles of his boots. He looks down, watching the hounds scouring the grass and the tree line. Countless guards fanning the area. Miguel shakes his head at their stupidity, their utter foolishness. Just waiting until the guards think he’s gone into the forest. Pulling himself up, looking over the edge of the wall and seeing it’s clear. Hoisting himself back over, he balances on the edge of the castle wall. His nimbleness and flexibility allowed him to walk across the stone like a tightrope. He walks carefully to the end, where the wall connects to the next tower over, stabilizing himself with his hands. Grabbing an arrow from his quiver and jabbing it into a crack in the stonework. Making sure it’s stable before pushing himself up and using it as a step to the windowsill. Holding onto the stone that outlines the opening in the wall. He pops his head in, looking both ways. 

If he can just get to the top of the east tower then he’ll have a clear shot to climb down to the forest and hopefully avoid all that mess down there. He’ll spend less time on the castle green where the hounds might be searching and guards lurking. And the castle seems much less crowded with all the guards looking for him outside. He stealthily climbs stairs and walks down hallways, admiring the portraits on the walls, the treasures lining the place, so lavish, so rich. 

He walks to the end of a corridor, catching a portrait of King Richard on the wall. The rightful King. Not that greedy Sheriff who thinks he’s royalty. The Sheriff who’s raising taxes every chance he gets and bleeding this kingdom dry. He looks down at the sack of gold pieces in his hand. It’s the first time he’s managed to steal directly from the castle. He’s been stealing from that blasted old Sheriff for months. Taking from his wagons as they travel through the woods, distracting his men and trapping them in the forest, taking the gold and riches that were stolen with the intent of giving it back to the victim it was taken from. The King would never let his kingdom go to ruin. But the King isn’t here. If he were, these people wouldn’t be starving and dying in the village. He’s seen children, the elderly, pregnant desperate women needing food, needing clothes. Many of their husbands, fathers, and brothers died in the war. He’s one of the lucky ones that managed to come back home. Many never made it back. But he’s come back to this. A dying kingdom, a greedy bastard thinking he can take the throne just because it’s empty. His actions have earned him the title of wanted criminal. A bounty on his head and a poster with his alias on it. 

There’s noise at the other end of the hallway. Without a second thought, he’s gone. Flipping up the dark hood of his phthalo cloak, turning the corner, he’s out of view. And he’s got to get out of here while he still can. Moving faster now. Not wanting to spend a minute longer in this trap. He climbs some stairs to a new hallway and finds a door. Feeling the breeze of air through the crack with his fingers, knowing there must be an open window or something inside. He quietly sneaks his way through and finds open doors on the other side of the room, open to a balcony. Drapes billowing in the breeze. The forest thereafter. A clean escape. 

He doesn’t even look around the bedroom he's passing through as he rushes through to the balcony doors. Pushing them open more and the night air hits his face. The smell of the forest, so familiar, and not those perfumes and oils that castle is pumped full of. He marches across the balcony and to the edge, hoping he’ll get down and back to camp in one piece. He happens to glance back and he-

“Miguel…?”

Across the balcony. 

Time seems to stop as he sees you. Hears you. Is his heart that hopeful? Is his mind so tortured by your memory that it would taunt him with visions? Are his senses so depleted of your presence that his ears make up the song of your voice? But there you stand, the light of the moon glowing through the fabric of your nightgown, through the abundance of your hair. Across your cheek. Is this a memory? Is this a cruel joke? He’s dreamt of nothing but you and now here you are at last.

But you’re different now. You’re not the little girl he remembers. When he too was a young boy. Two kids together. No. You’re grown. You’re all grown up and stunningly beautiful. The kind of beauty that would bring a mourning dove to song if only for your ears to enjoy. The kind of beauty that brings angels to sweet sugary tears. 

He takes a tentative step forward, as if you make sure you’re not a puff of smoke, a figment of his desperate imagination. But you start walking closer too. One step, then another, two more and you’ve crossed the distance into his arms. He’s stunned, shocked by the warmth of your embrace. He’s thought of only you for a decade. “Hah…” He sighs in relief, melting into your arms. Could this really be happening?

“You’re alive…” Your voice is a heavy hushing whisper next to his ear. 

“You’re beautiful…” He whispers into your shoulder, his lips pressing to the bare skin there. His dark eyes watching his fingertips graze over your skin. So soft, so warm, so here and real; holding you like a most precious perfect specimen. Like pure beauty blown in glass. 

He pulls back to look in your eyes. Only now does he really believe this is real. That he’s seeing you again after all this time. His arms around you, fingers coming to caress your cheek and he just can’t help himself. He’s dreamt of this for so long, too long. His lips meet yours. Crashing into you with the need of a man deprived. A man starved and thirsty. A kiss that would erupt over many kingdoms and countries, it would shake the ground with its passion, its connection, its need, desperation. A kiss that would be felt around the Earth five times over. His arms slide down your back, pulling you in more, only slightly off the ground with your toes just touching the floor, his eager tongue delving into your soft perfect mouth. Is he even worthy of tasting such precious perfection? Yet you taste so sweet, sweeter than any of the times he dreamt of you. He swallows down your gasps, your hitched needy breaths, feeling your delicate fingers digging into his back; soothing you, holding you. He’ll never let you go again. 

“I want him dead!” The Sheriff shouts from his throne. Well it’s not actually his but he’s sitting in it. His death black robes clinging to his calves, a pout on his face, gems decorating his fingers cast in gold. Gold and jewels that don’t belong to him. “I want his head and I want it warm!” 

“I know sir, we’ll get the Hood next time for you, sir, we just need a bit more time.” The guard Captain bows his head in fear and reverence. “-I’ve given you enough time. He dares to defy me- steal from me and you do what? Nothing!” He growls, pacing across the throne room floor. “I have enough to do as it is, I don’t need some… some ghost stealing what’s rightfully mine! And making a damn fool of me!!” He frowns almost like a child. His robes hitting his feet as he huffs, sitting back down in his throne. Crossing his arms and pouting. “And the bastard won’t even show his face! Some phantom determined to ruin my plans!” He knocks a pitcher of wine off the table next to him. The crimson liquid pooling on the stone floor, like spilled blood swirling and dribbling down the uneven cobblestone. 

“Don’t force me to make an example out of you. Captain.” He drawls, pointing his finger at the man, an evil glint in his eye. The Captain gulps, feeling an uneasy sense of dread. “I have no issue with public execution. Unlike our good old King.” He glares at the stained glass decorating the throne room. The red and purple hues, oranges and yellows glowing in the moonlight. Greens, blues, teals, cascading on the floor like water in the stream. An image depicting King Richard, who is at this moment halfway across the continent still on a hunt for the evading holy grail as the war rages on, shown with his family. His siblings, his parents, his cousins. You. His last living cousin. The Sheriff’s only option. An evil one at that. 

The Sheriff bellows, grabbing his gauntlet of wine and throwing it at the stained glass window. Glass shards shattering and clinking on the cobblestone. Echoing off the walls, ringing loud against everyone’s eardrums. Breaking the glass to bits, blowing a big hole in the image. The guards in the room gasp and the Captain takes cover from the falling glass overhead. Purified moonlight streams in through the shatter, lighting the Sheriff's face in an evil white light.

“JUST GET ME THAT ROBIN HOOD AND GET HIM NOW!!!”

“Th-this… you-” You stutter and sigh, unable to believe what you’re seeing. What you’re feeling. The last time you saw him he was 15. You were 14 and tearfully saying goodbye as you were sent away for schooling across the continent. You wanted to stay. You wanted to marry him. As a teenager you knew. Even as a little girl you knew in your heart. From running in the blackberry fields to swimming in the nearby streams, spending everyday with each other growing up, even if you're parents may have disapproved of you spending so much time with a peasant boy, as a lady of royal blood. To be separated from him was like ripping the sun of its warmth. By the time you returned at 18 he had already gone off to the war. He was expected to be a man. Fight for King and country. You were the King’s cousin and expected to be a lady, go to church, continue the royal bloodline. But you’d both taken pieces of each other’s hearts. Your heart was broken those long 10 years ago. “I know…” He whispers, keeping his hands on your shoulders, your cheeks. Any place he can keep touching you. Feeling you.

“I thought you were dead” You practically sob and his heart snaps at the sound of your voice. The look in your eyes. “I-I thought… I mourned you” You could cry. You’re nearly crying already. “I know- I know, I’m sorry…” He whispers, fearing anything louder than a hush would rupture your aching heart, wanting to explain, it wasn’t his intention to keep his return a secret. And he wanted to find you but wasn’t sure you’d still be here. That you’d remember him like he remembers you. 

“I’ve been back just a few months now… I’m back, I'm here now…” He whispers, trying to soothe your broken heart.  “This… is what you’ve been doing? Robin Hood…” You cry, tears brimming and threatening to spill over. He’s been back and you’ve thought him dead for years. Mostly everyone died in the war. Or was taken prisoner. You take a look at what he’s wearing, the quiver on his back. He’s the outlaw that everyone has been talking about. The criminal the Sheriff is hellbent on putting down. “I-I had to… the kingdom. It’s in ruin, my love… it’s all ruined, people are dying and it’s all his fault…” He explains, wiping your tears away with his thumb, looking right in your eyes, his words like a prophecy. “I can’t just stand by and watch. And once the Sheriff caught onto me I… I had to disappear. That’s when the alias arose…” He whispers, watching your face contort in emotion at his explanation. He wishes things could be different. 

“It’s been so long…” You whimper, leaning into his hand on your cheek. “Why didn’t you come for me?” 

“I wanted to, my love, mi amor, but I... didn’t know you’d be here, I thought you’d be… far from this place.” He whispers. He thought you’d be gone and married by now. With children and a husband for him to envy. Your children should be his children, your husband, he should be. 

“I thought you’d forgotten me” He admits, an urgency in his voice, met with the despair and heartbreak written all over your beautiful features. “I’d never have forgotten you!” You cry, more of a protest than anything, shaking your head as if to refuse reality. “I’ve thought of only you in your absence…” You confess, taking his breath away. 

“The Sheriff he- he’s after the throne, he’s taking over the castle.”

“I know… I know.” He nods, trying earnestly to understand your desperate ramblings. “But the King-” 

“My cousin is too far… too unreachable…” You sigh, speaking through the tears. “The Sheriff has too much power already. The guards listen to everything he says. I even think the priest is on his side.” 

He listens to you explain. All that’s gone on. All you’ve been through.

“I’ve been locking myself away in here. Only leaving when I must. He’s kept some distance and my ladies in waiting have been keeping me safe for some time but… I fear he’ll get too comfortable. He thinks he’s King already.”

“Oh, my love…” Miguel wraps you up in his arms, holding you close and listening to every word, wanting to wipe away every tear, take away every ounce of pain. To think the Sheriff’s has been practically keeping you prisoner in your own home, weaponizing your fear. It makes his blood boil with anger and hatred. His heart hammer with the need to protect you, defend you from this abuse. That must be why he hasn’t heard one peep about you. He’d have known you were in Nottingham. If he’d known sooner, he would have come. “It’s okay now… I’ll help you, we’ll do whatever necessary.” He whispers into your hair, his arms wrapping you up in such a safe and secure embrace.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you…” He whispers, his hand running up your back and gently holding the back of your neck. Your body seems to mold to his like soft fine clay, his fingers brushing against your warm skin, arms wrapping around your body. It’s amazing for him to see you this way. A woman. All grown up now.

“You’re so tall…” You smile and pull back to take a look at him, a sight that takes his breath away once more. He looks down at you, smiling himself. “You’ve grown more beautiful than I could ever have imagined.” 

Your heart soars at his words. To know that he’s remembered the pure, innocent, yet true love you shared as kids, then teenagers, only to be ripped apart. To have found one another again and feel the same way. Only love true as this could last. 

You pull back a bit to look up at him. He’s grown. He’s a man now. Not the boy you once loved, but a man. He’s still got that boyish smile, a lopsided one with those soft brown eyes, so familiar. As if the sight is ingrained into your very heart. It’s almost as if no time has passed at all. You still feel just as comfortable, just as familiar. He feels like home. 

His shoulders have broadened, his jaw, chin and nose sharp and handsome. His arms feel thick and strong around your back, his chest feels firm under your hands. His hair curling up slightly by his ears, just like it was when he was 15. 

“Oh, won’t you stay? I don’t… I don’t want to be apart from you…” You whisper, leaning into him again, looking up into those eyes. The eyes that have you fawning all over again. “I don’t want to be apart from you either, love. I don’t think my heart could withstand it.” He says.

Your hands slip into his, fingers intertwining, like your souls lacing back up. Like the stars aligning in the sky, everything in their rightful place once again. “I can’t bear your heart being far from mine…” He whispers, his nose brushing up against yours, the night breeze rustling through the trees off the balcony and through your hair. 

He kisses you once more. The little girl inside of you squealing with glee. This is the boy you fell in love with and he’s alive. He’s back after all this time. 

…

“...so I escaped and somehow made my way back home…” He finishes explaining. The two sitting on the balcony floor, side by side on the stone, under the moonlight. Discussing his time in the war, then as a prisoner and his efforts to return in one piece. Going over all that's happened since you've seen each other last. “How did you ever bear it? I can’t imagine how hard that must have been…” 

“We lost many good men… A few of them managed to come back with me. The battle was hard but dreaming of you was much more difficult to bear. I always wanted to return. I always knew I needed to be with you.” He says, making you smile, his fingertips gently stroking the back of your hand. “Then I saw what the Sheriff was doing in the King’s absence and I couldn’t just stand by. I knew the villagers would have no one to protect them with half the army and the King still away searching for that damned grail.”

“I begged my cousin not to leave. I told him the kingdom would be in ruin. That we needed him more than ever. But he thought the grail would be the answer to our prayers.” He listens to you explain, his eyes scanning over your pretty face. A small smile on his lips as he admires your features. A feeling of nostalgia deep in his heart. His fingers coming up to brush some hair behind your ear. “He thought it would end the war, it would end disease and illness, and it would bring back peace. But all this has brought is pain and suffering.” You say, thinking back on the past year. When your cousin left to find the grail and hopefully end the war. Then the Sheriff got too comfortable in the empty role. 

“The Sheriff thinks he can be King. I don’t know how he’ll do it but he’ll find a way.” You sigh. Miguel’s expression hardens. Knowing they have to be careful. If the Sheriff is going around Nottingham with some twisted plan, he won’t just stop if asked nicely. “We’ll figure this out. I promise.” He nods, squeezing your hand gently. 

It’s quiet for a moment. The breeze in the sway of the trees. The sounds of the night in the forest. It’s like the first moment of peace for both of you in years. Holding each other. Sitting beside each other once more. “So… Robin Hood? What’s the meaning behind that name?” You smile, leaning in closer.

“Oh…well…” He chuckles, smiling bashfully. “I must say it is an impressive hood.” You tease, reaching over his shoulders and lifting the dark green material over his head. Watching the shadow cascade over his smiling face. “Thank you…” He grins, his hands coming to your wrists as you hold onto the edges of his cowl. “And I suppose you are robbing… Robin.” You figure out. Pulling back the hood just a bit so you can see his eyes, the way they sparkle in the moonlight. “Robin Hood.” You whisper, his thumbs caressing the inside of your palms, his eyes completely captivated by your beautiful face and your smile. This still feels like a dream. Like he’ll wake up any minute and be back on the battlefield thousands of miles away. 

“I am in love with you…” He sighs, a half hum, leaning forward slightly with that same boyish grin on his face. Watching your face as you giggle and blush at his sudden confession. Although you already knew it to be true. “You are?” You tease, pulling on his hood just slightly to bring him closer. “Yes… hopelessly… helplessly.” He whispers.

His nose brushes yours, lips ghosting just across yours too, so soft and gentle. “Wonderfully… desperately…” He whispers against your lips, turning his head and tilting it, as if to find the perfect angle to kiss your perfect lips. Your eyes flutter closed, feeling so calm and peaceful, allowing his lips to find yours at the exact right moment, not a second later or before. His lips pressing to yours with the smallest amount of pressure, a whisper of a kiss. That sends a chill down your arms and your back, a flush to your cheeks, heat through your body. From then on, he kisses the corner of your lips, then your cheek, moving down to your jaw. It’s the first time you’ve ever been kissed in such a way. His head tilting slowly into your neck and leaving chaste kisses below your ear. The night breeze blowing past your cheek, feeling so weakened by his touch, desperate for more. For all of him.

One of his hands comes to the other side of your face, cradling your cheek and tilting your chin back with his nose, pressing kisses up the column of your throat. The girl of his dreams, in his arms again. 

“Maid y/n…” A voice calls from inside the room, beyond the curtains that billow in the breeze, the only cover the two of you have. Miguel instantly draws back from your neck, his fingers gently wrapping around the back of your neck protectively, his eyes trained on the curtains, the candlelight behind them. “Are you alright? You’re not in bed…” It’s one of your ladies. Someone you trust but not enough to see Miguel here. For someone to find out the Hood's true identity. “Yes, I’m fine. Just fine, thank you… just breathing in some fresh air…” You say before she can come out onto the balcony to check. You both watch the light flickering inside. The flame from the candle she’s holding. Hoping by God’s will she won’t venture onto the balcony to check. After a moment, the light flickers and disappears as the woman leaves your room. His arms relaxing from their tense and coiled position. He looks back at you. 

“Won’t you come with me? I have a safe place… in the forest. Completely safe for you… for us…” He whispers, knowing he’s risking everything to stay here longer. His fingers caress the side of your face with pure love and affection. He wants to keep that promise to himself and to you. That he won’t allow you into danger if he can help it. He’ll protect you from harm. He’ll get you out of here. He’ll marry you. You’ll run away, find a safe place far from here. He’ll fill you up with so much love and care, you’ll both be bursting with true love and children. Symbols of your everlasting love. This is his promise to you.

“I don’t think it's wise. If I go, the Sheriff will notice and we’ll lose what little control we still have. I don’t want to leave the people with him. They deserve more.” You explain and he nods, fully understanding and admiring your nurturing soul and courage to do the right thing even if it proves difficult or painful. Your loyalty to the kingdom and her citizens matches his own. “But I will come to you tomorrow night… I promise.” He whispers, nodding in sincerity. Cradling your face in his hands. “I’ll be here…” You smile, heart overflowing. You both rise off the floor.

“Stay safe, my love…” He kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then a slow soft peck on your lips. His arms wrap around your waist, slowly walking backwards towards the edge of the balcony with you in his arms. “Just a little while longer and everything will be right again.” He wants nothing more than to take you away from this place. Sleep with you in his arms, finally make love to you for the very first time after years of desperation. But soon everything will be right once more. He has to keep believing that. 

“Stay safe yourself… please.” You whisper, feeling him let go and sit on the edge of the balcony, getting ready to climb down and return to the forest. He turns around, expertly finding his footing and starting to climb down the edge of the balcony. His hands and feet lodged in the stones, ready to climb down. But his heart doesn’t want to leave yet. “Sweet dreams, my love… mi amor…” He whispers with a smile. You lean down to kiss him. The big, golden, low hanging moon shining right through the space between your lips until it’s smothered out by their union. Each kiss you share feels as if it could shake the ground, level this corrupted castle in an instant. You don’t want to but you pull back, smiling down at him and seeing that lopsided grin once more. He’s a dream come true in every sense of the saying. 

“I love you…” You hum, watching him start to climb down. “I love you too…” He says, getting a bit further down but still looking up at you, watching your figure back lit by the light of the moon. “I love you unconditionally…” You say, teasing him lovingly. “I love you endlessly…” He says, climbing further down the tower wall and playing into your little competition. 

“I love you breathlessly…”

“I love you absolutely…” 

“I love you infinitely…” 

“I love you perpetually…” 

“I love you forever…” You say and see him finally reach the ground. Watching him step back across the grass below. He can only just barely hear your voice now but he caught every word. “I love you forever.” He echos, looking up at you. Pretty, perfect you all the way up in that tower. He walks backwards towards the tree line, keeping his eyes on you the whole way, blowing you a kiss before he disappears into the shadows of Sherwood forest. Only love true as this could last. 

to be continued...

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ if you'd like to be tagged in the next chapter let me know! thanks for reading! 🍬❤︎ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

[lucijawriteswords]

head canons | quinn hughes

summary: in which i discuss my silly little ideas and fantasies regarding everyone’s favorite canuck.

warnings: 18+!!! SMUT. quinn hughes x fem reader. pre-established relationship, fingering, p in v, marking/possession

a/n: a quick midnight rambling to tide us all over until my next real fic. thank you for your patience.

18+ below cut

sweet

- the thud of his bag on the floor when he returns home late from the rink. the scratching of his shoes as he toes them off onto the mat by the door, the rustle of his jacket as he hangs it up. perhaps the clatter of keys or the smart tap of a baseball cap thrown haphazardly upon a table.

- the soft pad of his footsteps across the rooms of your home, his fingers brushing against the door handle to enter your room. his hushed curse as the door creaks.

- his lazy smile as you lift your head from the pillow, his tired gaze meeting yours as he whispers a hello, peeling off his dress pants and dress shirt. his mumbled thank you as you point to the clean t shirt and boxers you laid out for him on the chair.

- his warm body, soft breaths, whispered questions as he climbs into bed. his strong arms around you, holding himself to you. his head on your chest, his soft hair tickling your chin and you card your fingers through his hair.

- his muffled words becoming slow breaths, his back rising and falling deeply. his slow heartbeat on top of yours. the feeling of him on top of you, sleep stealing your both away.

- his bright laugh bouncing off the walls of your home, the smile pulling at your face as he tells you about his day, the concentration and attention on his as you tell him about yours.

- dancing with him in the kitchen in the middle of the night, all sleepy eyes and mussed hair and incoordination and stubbed toes.

- soft kisses to wake you up when he has to leave early.

spicy

- the feeling of his fingers inside you, pushing against that spot that makes you writhe, makes you scream his name. the pressure against your clit from inside your core, begging to be released. the throb and ache and tease of orgasm right on the tip of your tongue as his fingers and mouth render you senseless.

- his cock dragging along your walls, every ridge and vein felt when you clench on him like a vice. his groaned curse, his flexed arms, the sweat dripping off his nose and catching on your chest, seeming to sizzle.

- his teeth digging into his lip as he pounds into you, every inch of him slamming into you, your mind muddled by the taste and smell and feel of him.

- his hot tongue dragging along your body, his lips leaving soft kisses all over. his teeth leaving marks, leaving small red nips in the shape of a “Q” on your inner thigh.

- the flare in his eyes when, a few weeks late, you show him a small “Q” tattoo in the same place he left his mark. that same flare when his eyes meet yours as he devours your cunt, worshipping you.

- the way he revels in your praise when you make those pretty little noises for him, his breaths coming a little more ragged, his hands gripping your hips a little tighter.

- the bruises on your hips and thighs that you wear like a badge of honor.

[ticklygiggles]

Lovelynim's tickletober Day 24: Bullying

Rafayel x Reader

A/N: it's late but it's here @homurasturtle MY LOVELY ❤️💖 I hope you enjoy yourself bullying fishie 🤭 give him his ticklies love 🥺🤗

"Ouchie, ouchie, ouchie!" Rafayel cried as you clung to his neck and nibbled on his cheek. Your teeth barely sinking into his skin, yet he made a big deal about it, acting as if his cheeks weren't blushing and his lips weren't curled into a smile.

Paint was all over the floor and your clothes. Him trying to teach you how to paint had ended in a paint fight that Rafayel lost miserably.

You giggled, feeling strangely playful as he whined your name over and over, trying to suppress his laughter as you started to press wet kisses against his cheek and ear.

"Ack! Let go! You're so- ack!" Sitting with your legs folded in a lotus position, you took Rafayel's wrist and pulled him right into the gap between your legs. He flushed to his ears and tried to get up, but your arms wrapped around his waist tightly. "M-Miss h-hunter, aaack! C-Cutie! W-Wait! Wait! This is bullying! This is definitely bullyhihihing! Nohoahahaha!"

Rafayel threw his head back and squirmed around as your evil little fingers started to tickle his sides, ribs and waist. He practically collapsed onto your lap, his back arched over one of your legs as your fingers clawed at his ribs. He was laughing wildly, tears already clinging and shining against his long eyelashes. His bright smile set butterflies free in your tummy and you couldn't help but giggle along with him.

"Thihihis is so unfahahair!"

"Hmmm... yeah you're right!" He shrieked, kicking his legs slightly and incoordinately trying to catch your hands to no avail. "Are you ticklish, little fishie? How is it possible that a cute fishies like you can be so ticklish, hmm? Are all Lemurians as ticklish as you?"

"STAHAHAP! Y-You ahahare the w-worst huhuman to eveheher- AHAHAH! I'm s-sorry!"

Now that his underarms were under attack, he really didn't have much to say, huh? You laughed, stealing kisses to his red cheeks as he squealed and begged for mercy.

'A fishie like me cannot sweat!'

'Agh! Leave my stupid armpits alone!'

'Reddie, help meee!'

You giggled, "look at your master, Reddie. He's so ticklish, poor thing."

"J-Juhuhust you wahahait untihihil I g-get you b-ba- nohoho! No! It's a lihihihie! Gahahaha, cuhuhutie!"

He was so adorable, you didn't think you would be able to stop anytime soon! Besides, it wasn't like he actually wanted you to stop, right~?

[hey-august]

When it's time to party, we will always party hard

I wrote this one-shot a while ago and held onto it as a lil reward for getting 200 followers. I know that's not the usual milestone, but omgggg it's so amazing to me!!! To everyone who enjoys reading my nonsense about this goober - thank you, ily, I appreciate you lots and lots! 🤗🥰❤️❤️❤️

Word count: ~3.3k

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, buggy x GN!reader, no use of Y/N, not an established relationship, drinking, oral - buggy receiving, anal sex - reader receiving, protected sex, *glitter*, a bandana is not enough aftercare (but it's the thought that counts). All parties are consenting adults.

A/N: I originally imagined that the song playing in the background is Custer by Slipknot. It just seems like the kinda shit they'd put on after a while because 'lol cut cut cut me up' but the silly chop chop man will always put himself back together. I'm curious to hear what music you imagine!

Title comes from "Party Hard" by Andrew W.K.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Pirates and drinking - already an overwhelming combination. Add loud music, rowdy jokes, lighthearted arguments, tall tales, drunk fights, a disco ball, sea shanties, and terrible dancing? Then it’s a full-blown we’re-gonna-get-fucked-up party.

Your crew was celebrating a successful treasure raid - overflowing chests led to overflowing cups. Buggy had ordered for all the alcohol to be pulled out and cracked open for tonight’s festivities, the tantalizing smells of wooden casks, sharp rum, and wine becoming a siren’s call for everyone on the ship.

This was your first time experiencing such a blowout and it quickly went to your head. The main party was contained in the mess, but the festivities quickly spread across the ship with people constantly coming and leaving. Clusters and cliques found everywhere and anywhere, like rowdy dust bunnies. Some groups gathered to sing loud choruses, others to conduct drinking challenges, one lot took over the crow’s nest to smoke, and countless others that simply enjoyed the fun.

The group that adopted you stayed in the mess, talking and chatting. Unfortunately, the concentration required to follow a conversation that could hardly be heard over the pounding music was far out of your grasp. Instead, you just pretended to listen. Nodding when it felt appropriate, chuckling when the others broke into laughter, and taking shots alongside the others. Meanwhile, you watched the crowd. It didn’t take long for someone to start a game of darts, but with throwing knives. Fun and dangerous. Someone else began collecting empty bottles to juggle. By this point, he was up to 5 bottles cascading through the air, with one balanced on his head. Delightful!

You took another shot and broke off from your group. You wanted to get a closer look at the juggler. He made it look so easy and you wanted to try. Sure, you never juggled before, but it couldn’t be that difficult. Navigating the surging crowd was a challenge that you succeeded in overcoming. The victory was short lived when you misjudged your next step. Your foot caught the corner of a chair like a ship hitting shallow coral. The momentum propelled your forwards and you grabbed onto the first thing that touched your hands. A person. A person who grabbed you back, trying to fix your incoordination. It took you a moment to realize that the hands steadying your body didn’t line up with the arms you grabbed. Shit. That was when you finally recognized the coat in your grasp.

Buggy’s hands brought you back to your feet as he turned around to survey the damage. Your face was flushed, but you were fine. The red tint was probably because of the alcohol. And embarrassment from losing your sea legs. Even worse, the humiliation made your body feel weaker, like your knees were going to give out. At least you thought that’s what it was, until the butterflies in your stomach took flight. Stupid blue butterflies with cute red noses. 

Buggy felt your grip tighten so he slipped an arm around your back, propping your unsteady form against his. Having lived most of his life above water, it took a lot for the captain’s sea legs to falter. Although, the sweet look of shame on your face did make him feel a little woozy.

“S-sorry, Captain. I didn’t see you there.” Feebly, you tried to pull away, but you couldn’t. You didn’t really want to. And Buggy didn’t want to let go yet, either.

“Damn and here I was thinking that you fell for me,” he joked. 

You didn’t think your temperature could get any hotter, but now you were hoping to melt a hole in the floor and fall away. Hopefully it wasn’t obvious how fucking flustered you were. A floating hand came by holding two shots and the expectant look on your captain’s face told you that one was for you. 

“C’mon, it’s a celebration,” Buggy encouraged, squeezing you and kicking back his shot. 

You took yours and winced as it hit your throat. It almost felt cool, soothing the torrent of thoughts raging in your body. Looking back at Buggy, you noticed a few drops trailing down the corner of his mouth. Sloppy. Adorable. Without thinking, you reached over and wiped the liquid with your thumb. Before you could pull away, the clown flicked out his tongue to lick your thumb. He apologized for wasting alcohol and winked. That fucker.

The bashful frown on your face was too much for Buggy. It was fun pressing your buttons, but this was quickly turning into a dangerous game. Reluctantly, he loosened his grip on your body to release you back into the wild of the party. He watched you sway slightly, as if your body forgot how to stand without him. His body tensed as he resisted the urge to pull you back into his embrace.

Thoughts swirled in your head, carried on the current of alcohol. If your captain was acting so forward, why couldn’t you? It is a party after all…

“Captain, would it- would it be okay if I kept thinking about you? At night?” you stumbled over the words, eager to get an answer.

Buggy cocked his head to the side. This was a surprise - albeit a welcome one. He pointed at himself questioningly and you nodded. His eyes narrowed and his grin broadened dangerously. Leaning forwards, Buggy whispered in your ear. His voice sent chills down your spine, conflicting with the heat between your legs.

“How about you do more than thinking?” 

His breath was warm and you wanted to feel it everywhere on your body. You wanted to feel him everywhere. You nodded.

Buggy grabbed your hand and strutted away, leaving you with just a hand. You followed the direction his appendage pulled, trailing behind your captain like a puppy. He guided you both to the closest empty corridor, dragging you the last few feet by summoning his hand. Spinning you around in a clumsy two-step to the muffled music that reverberated through the ship, he pressed his lips against yours and moved past a few crates stored in the dead-end hallway. Still with wobbly legs, you grabbed his coat to stay upright and held your mouth tight against your dancing partner. The taste of rum and spit coated your tongue. He tasted sweet and bitter. And a little dirty. 

Breaking the kiss, Buggy tilted your face up with a finger on your chin. He searched your eyes, looking for any sign of hesitation. It wouldn’t be the first time the pirate clown misread a situation and he wasn’t in the mood to be slapped in a not-sexy way. Your crashing mouth against his was enough of an answer and he eagerly reciprocated the affection. The next break was initiated by your breathlessness and dizziness. Pulling away, you saw that Buggy wore a similar expression with stars in his eyes.

“Why don’t you show me what kinds of things you think about?” Buggy prodded in a low voice. He placed your hand on his erection and used you to pet himself.

“Fuck,” you whispered, surprised by the pirate’s large mast. Although you said that for yourself, his cock twitched in appreciation.

“Please? Show me,” he whined, grinding against you. The begging tone in his voice made your throat tight and put your stomach in knots. That was nice. You liked hearing that.

Sinking to your knees, you undid Buggy’s pants and shimmied them down enough to access the treasure you’ve only dreamt about. The tip of his fat cock glistened, coated in precum. You blew on it lightly, enjoying how it swung and bobbed. Buggy hissed in anticipation.

“D-don’t be such a tease.”

You blew again. He groaned in pleasure and frustration. Holding the base of his cock, Buggy pressed it against your lips. At the very least, this should keep you from treating him like a fucking whistle. Your eyes fluttered as it throbbed against your lips, smearing precum like chapstick. You gave in and let Buggy into your mouth, relishing the soft moan he rewarded you with.

You sucked, licked, and caressed him until your jaw ached and your chin was coated in drool. Needing a break, you dragged your tender lips down the side of his cock. Kissing the base, you worked your way down to bathe his balls with a wide lick. You just barely hear Buggy muttering sweet nothings over the faint music. He placed a hand on the back of your head and pressed your face against himself. Spurred by his encouragement, you gently sucked and kissed his balls, coating them in your spit. You like how his cock rested on your face, accidentally tapping you a few times when it twitched.

Nearby voices broke your concentration. You looked up and saw Buggy eyeing the end of the hallway. He looked back down and - fuck - you looked so good down there. Obscene and beautiful.  He blinked a few times trying to clear his mind.

“N-no one can see anything as long as they don’t come down here. Crates are in the way,” he mumbled while thoughtlessly grinding against your mouth.

The voices got louder then softer, soon they were drowned out by the ambience of the ship. Whoever it was didn’t pay any attention or pause. While it felt naughty and a bit exciting, neither of you were in the mood to play a fucked up game of hide-and-seek. Before anyone else could come by and interrupt, Buggy brought you into the storeroom at the end of the hallway. One hand led the way, opening and closing the door, while the other pulled you along, taking you to one of the barrels kept in the room.

The hand you held pulled you across the barrel, your stomach and chest pressed along the top. You let your head drop into your arms for a moment. You were breathless, excited, and overwhelmed. Afraid that you would forget to live in the moment by being too interested in what might happen next. But this moment is more than you ever fucking imagined. The taste of Buggy’s cock in your mouth, your face coated in precum and spit, and now, here you were waiting for his touch.

Muttered profanity and rummaging brought your attention to your frantic captain. Looking over your shoulder, you saw Buggy patting and checking his coat pockets with floating hands and arm stumps. One hand seemed to emerge proudly until you both noticed the glove was covered in glitter. That is definitely not what he wanted and his hand actually looked disappointed in itself. You laughed at how dramatic Buggy is, even when it’s just a fraction of himself.

The clown cast a joking sneer your way before being interrupted by his other hand. Why he’s interrupting himself, you don’t know, but it makes you laugh again. Pulling himself back together, Buggy told you to get ready. You undid your pants and pulled them down enough to grant him access. Meanwhile, Buggy took the condom and lube he pulled out and prepared himself. The crinkle of the foil packet had your heart pounding.

A slap to the ass let you know that the fun was about to begin, the sound of his bare hand on your body was sharp. A rough hand pulled your ass cheeks apart as he kneaded your doughy skin.

“Fucking amazing,” he sighed while stroking his lubed cock.

Buggy leaned in and spit. You shuddered as it trickled down. He swiped the liquid with his thumb and pressed it against your asshole. Teasing you. Applying just enough pressure to make you feel delirious. You bucked your hips, trying to get something more. More pressure, more movement, something, anything.

“Tell me what you want, use your words,” Buggy crooned, rubbing circles that went to your head, dizzying your mind. You could still hear the dull sounds of music carrying through the ship. The heavy bass made you feel like your heartbeat was echoing everywhere.

“F-fuck me! I want you in me, please!” you cried.

“Keep going. I need to know what you think about~” he said in a sing-song lilt. 

Impatience and need raged in your body, consuming all rational thought. You took a deep breath, preparing to say things that you had only planned to keep contained in your fucked up head.

“Captain, I want you to fuck me in the ass,” your voice was shakey, but you kept going, “I w-want to feel your dick stretch my ass while you fuck me stupid. I don’t want my body to forget what you feel like.”

While you couldn’t see the brief surprise flit across his face, you could hear it in his husky voice.

“Damn, I didn’t expect you to be so filthy. You fucking pervert,” Buggy said as he pulled his hand away and slapped your ass again. It stung in a delightful way.

A breath lingered in your throat at the feeling of the tip of his cock pressing against you. Buggy entered, eased by the lube and spit. He could see your body soften with the sensation.

“Y-yeah, like that please,” you whined, wanting to encourage your captain.

Panting, Buggy grabbed your waist and thrusted in time with the music floating through the walls. Hitting quick and deep, as if he knew what your body craved. It wasn’t long before the wet sounds of your bodies connecting filled the room, accented with moans of pleasure.

“I-is this wh-”

“Yes! You’re d-doing so good, Captain. So much better than I imagined.”

“Of-fucking-course,” he grunted, insulted by the insinuation that your imagination could be better than the real thing. He snapped his hips into you harder, wanting to pulverize those measly thoughts and replace them with memories that would make your legs shake. The high pitched whine you released let him know that he was hitting a good spot.

“Ooooh, that feels s-good…” Your words slurred together, strung with ecstasy and alcohol. 

Buggy’s hands pawed at your hips as he continued slamming into you, the movement jostling the barrel beneath your bodies. The ferocity in his movements were numbing your mind and body to everything except his touch. Each thrust loosened all thoughts that weren’t about your captain. The constant jiggling of your body dulled everything that wasn’t extreme - that wasn’t his bruising hands or his hard cock that refused to relent to your tight ass.

You were in absolute bliss, drifting on golden waves of lust, desire, and cock. You could hardly lift your head up, choosing to rest it against the wood grain and drool.

“D-do you think about coming while I screw you? I bet you fucking do…”

Buggy’s taunting words lit a fire in your body. While you were content to be fucked senseless, it wouldn’t take long to come and you absolutely imagined it before. Countless times. Sluggishly, you wiggled your body, moving a hand between your legs. It took a moment to get comfortable, since you didn’t pull your pants down far and your unsteady hand had to navigate through that blocker. Once you were in an okay position and playing with yourself, you tilted your head to the side so Buggy could see you nod.

“M’close,” you whined.  

You didn’t have to tell him, Buggy could feel it. Your body was tight. Tense under his hands. Your ass was squeezing against him, increasing the pressure and friction you both needed. Your orgasm was at your fingertips, just waiting for the final push.

“Where d-do you want me to finish?”

“-in me, f-fucking come in me, please. Want you to come too. W-wanna feel it.”

Buggy’s body threatened to fall apart at the sound of those words. He’s pretty sure his neck split a fraction when he tilted his head back in delight. Worried that he might actually fall apart entirely, he hunched over your back and leaned into his impending orgasm. He was in a frenzy, bucking his hips against you, while also rocking your body and barrel against him. Going so deep it ached. Making your body confused, believing this is what it was created for. 

The way your sweet hole accepted him so readily each time he slid into you, but gripped him tightly when he pulled back was more intoxicating than anything else Buggy had tonight. Your yelps and cries of pleasure carried him higher, closer to the precipice until he tipped over. His weak seams threatening to break again, Buggy slumped over your back as he fucked through his orgasm.

You felt Buggy’s cock pump inside, flexing against your already strained hole. That sensation and the weight of his body collapsing on yours, which felt surprisingly intimate, were the final pieces you needed - wanted - before you came. You had imagined what it would be like to come on his throbbing cock, feeling it twitch inside you, and holy shit. Your hands and toys were a depressingly pale comparison to the real thing.

Buggy kept moving until you finished with a deep breath that gently rocked his body. Finally letting go of your hips, Buggy braced against the barrel and pushed himself upright. Reluctant to pull his softening cock from your body just yet, he ran his hands along your lower back, thumbs pressing into muscles that must be tender. A shudder coasted through your body, causing your asshole to pulse and flutter. Buggy hissed, feeling both overstimulated but craving more. He definitely didn’t have another round in him just then, so he pulled out.

You felt empty. Satisfied. Messy. But also empty. You stayed resting against the barrel, not trusting your wobbly legs or the spinning in your head. Both were probably from getting dicked down so successfully, but it could still be the alcohol. You listened to the sound of snapping rubber, which was followed by the sound of rustling fabric. 

Groaning, you pushed yourself up and turned to see what the pirate captain was looking for this time. He was unsuccessful so far. And then that damn hand emerges from the glitter pocket. But this time, it was his bare hand. Which was sticky. And now it’s sticky and covered in glitter.

“For fuck’s sake,” Buggy growled, swatting his arts-and-crafts hand away with his arm. You found that fucking hilarious and threw your head back in laughter. Although Buggy wasn’t keen on being laughed at, he did like the sound. Giving up on his quest, the clown used his other hand to tug the bandana off his head and straightened his hat afterwards. He held the square of fabric out towards you.

“Sorry, I can’t find something else. This should be enough until you get to the showers,” he explained.

This was like a dream. Better than a dream, really. You never would have thought Buggy would hand off one of his bandanas for post-sex clean up. Dirty, like a pirate, and you liked it. You accepted the gesture and gingerly cleaned yourself, clearing away just enough that you could get dressed.

Buggy waited by the door until you were ready. You walked over and before he could open the door, you stuck out your foot. Tonight had been full of surprises and cause for celebration. Even though you had already pushed your luck, maybe there was room for a little more. Trailing your fingers on Buggy’s coat, you leaned in and pressed a light kiss against the corner of his mouth.

“You know, I’ve thought about what the captain’s personal shower must be like…” you said coyly.

Buggy reached up to grab your chin before realizing it was the glitter hand. Rolling his eyes, Buggy matched your gaze instead.

“I never woulda thought you were such a greedy slut for your captain. Seems like there are a lot of thoughts in that head that I need to deal with.” He flashed you that dashing, mischievous smile that always turns you into putty.

Buggy pushed past you to exit and tilted his head, inviting you to follow. And you did, without wasting another thought.

[gofishygo]

mito mito mito hihi 😋

i’ve been having some thoughts n i felt like sharing w the class newayssss

so i was having bubble tea earlier and i started thinking,,,,what cod characters would like it? i feel like price def wouldn’t,,simon wouldn’t mind it but he does def think its too sweet and proper tea is superior and blah blah blah (i acc don’t know im kinda divided on that like i hc him as a sweet tooth but bubble tea,,,ehhh i feel like he wouldn’t like it all that much like he’d be all grumbly about it,,, idfk

johnny and gaz i think would like it lots ,,

i also think alex wouldn’t like it abd farah would (i js like hc farah as this secret softie ok leave me alone 😞)

but THAT got me thinking,,,, what other food preferences would they have ?? i think gaz would rlly like sushi (saw a fan art of him on a sushi date w the reader and i forgot who made it but ):$/:)/&!:!!!!! it was so cute) and i also think gaz would handle spicy food well ?? and he would like seafood in general methinks (tryna think of some select seafood items he wouldn’t like but im drawing a blank bc im vegetarian shusbssjnsuen)

idrk ab simon and johnny and price,,,,,,out of them 3, i feel like simon or johnny would have the biggest sweet tooth (they’re on like completely dif ends of the spectrum character wise but shh i js know it) but they all eat A SHIT TON like the food could be burned or too salty or smth but if they’ve js come back from a mission then they’re eating that shit UP. and asking for seconds. and thirds. they would still give u food feedback if it’s some other day tho

also johnny is extremely passionate about haggis. no i have never tried it yes i js know he is ok moving on

KONIGGGG hmmmm,,,, i have no fucking idea lmao i think? a lot of german cusine involves bread and stuff,,,so……………i think he’d have rlly bland meals idk

i’ve been rlly into keegan lately but i cant come up w anything for him aaaa

also gaz would be the only one who knows how to use chopsticks. the others would learn fast being in the military and all but gaz and chopstick skills js make sense???

ANYWAY im soso sry for rambling sm lmao this is a lot of words,,,,,and this isn’t a req by any means !!! js needed to hear ur thoughts bc food is js calling to me like “ok but would blank character like this” like. urgh. ok im done now i think but yeah food preferences for cod characters of ur choice

ALSO !!! THE IOS SHARK STICKERS REMIND ME OF U,,,,,look at them$:!!;&:!3 OK IM ACC DONE NOW BYE BEY MITO HIPE U DONT FALL ASLEPE READING ALL THAT

AHHH hi weebun !! ^^ i was literally having bubble tea with my sister like a few hours ago and when i checked the inbox n saw this i BOLTED !! sorry for never responding to this, i forgot inbox existed..,

notes: shittily wrote as this as a warmup/just general yap :> sorry for messiness and incoordination.., platonic, no warnings !! unless ur lactose intolerant idk

so you'll be jus chillin w the 141 on base and then say something like "boba is absolute gas shits better than normal tea" and of course, since the majority of the taskforce is british, you get absolutely fucking jumped for it. like- keep in mind, you say this price, the NUMBER ONE TEA AND BISCUTS DEFENDER, so you do end up getting toilet duty for a week with the explanation of 'uncordial behaviour.'

but after your deployment, you are the one to arrange where the 141 meet up. it's a little ritual you guys have developed to stay connected in between missions, one that makes your friendship seem a bit more real. sometimes the only thing that keeps your eyes open and heart pumping. and since you're an absolute fucking menace, you ask if you can meet around the heart of london- and then drag them all into the nearest bubble tea store you can.

-

price... doesn't end up liking it. takes a total of two sips, nearly chokes on the pearls, and then sets the cup down. he claims he's been around long enough to know that this- like many other foods, is probably some 'trendy millennial bullshit that'll disappear in a solid few', but that doesn't help ease the insane side eye that he gets from the cashier.

but to your surprise, ghost seems somewhat okay with it. his face doesnt really change (from what you can tell- his mouth is still hidden due to some face mask he put on), but he seems neutral, relaxed, even. he mutters something along the lines of how it isn't too bad, but it doesn't beat a cuppa- to which you chose to ignore, and how he'll probably just stick to having an earl grey in the mornings. but a few months later, you catch him at the same boba store, and you cant help but giggle to yourself.

soap fucking inhales the drink. its genuinely concerning, to say the very least. he seems to like.. unhinge his jaw like some kind of snake, and then inhales the whole drink in what you think is a millisecond. and since he's the only scotsman on the team- thinks the whole 'tea n biscuits' ritual his colleagues have is utter stupidity, so not only does he now FREQUENTLY drink boba because he likes it- he also drinks out of utter spite.

gaz is the only one with a seemingly respectable opinion about boba, unfortunately. he's had it before, multiple times- it appeals to his sweet tooth and is the occasional treat after long missions. but unlike you, gaz does not value peace, and seems to keep egging soap on in chugging unreasonable amounts of the drink. (and he doesnt mention it, as he does not want to face the same punishment as you did, but he thinks that bubble tea is sometimes, just sometimes better than his cuppa.)

masterlist (some of my other stuff is better promise)

[leaslichoma]

Touhou Project theory: the Scarlet Devil Mansion's heavy metal poisoning

something an intro idk how to do this

WARNING! LONG POST AHEAD!

Potential sources of heavy metal toxins

If we look inside the mansion there's a lot of red carpet. One pigment for red is vermilion, which which is derived from the mercury mineral cinnabar which is highly toxic. Vermilion was a highly valued and prestigious dye historically, befitting of an aristocrat's mansion. Another detail is in one of these screenshots the carpet is a rather dark red, and while many red pigments slowly turn pink as they fade vermilion actually darkens and turns brown (similar to blood), which you can see in the painting below. This could be a lighting effect, though.

Another possible pigment is minium, which is derived from lead and is also toxic.

We also see a fair amount of white in the mansion, on the table cloth in the above image and many of the residents' clothing such as Sakuya's apron and Flandre's mob cap. One historical pigment for white is lead white, which is also derived from lead. Lead white was also used in cosmetics to whiten skin, for another potential source of poisoning.

Another potential source is lead from pewter. Given Remilia's weakness to silver she is not likely to use sterling silver for metal objects such as tableware and tea sets. Pewter, a broad term for various tin alloys, is a popular alternative she might use. However, many older pewter alloys contained large amounts of lead as its toxicity was not understood. For a long time lead was actually used in toys since it was cheap and not understood.

There's also a possibility of toxins leaching into food or drink through glass or the enamel of pottery. Lead-crystal glass slowing leaches lead into drink and if Remilia happened to buy any Uranium glass, which became popular during the mid 19th century, and peaked between 1880 to 1920, that would leach uranium. If any pottery uses toxic materials in the enamel that is another source of poisoning.

Potential victims

Sakuya Izayoi and Patchouli Knowledge are the two most human residents of the Scarlet Devil Mansion. Both display symptoms of heavy metal poisoning.

Patchouli is stated to have anemia and weak muscles. Both of these can occur from lead poisoning, though anemia typically takes a very large dose.

Sakuya Izayoi is described as "spacey", which is defined by the Merriam-webster dictionary as a synonym of spaced-out which means "dazed or stupefied by or as if by a narcotic substance,". Given how both mercury and lead mostly affect the nervous system, and both can cause memory impairment, tremors and incoordination, it makes sense that someone suffering from heavy metal poisoning might be compared to someone who is drunk or high.

For more definitive proof that Sakuya has mental difficulties, we should look at the fact that Sakuya does not know what oxygen is. While one might assume that this is just because she lives isolated from the modern world, Oxygen was first isolated before 1604 by Michael Sendivogius, and given a name and recognized as an element in 1777. Oxygen could be an important discovery for her position considering its role in food preservation. Sakuya has had over two centuries to learn that oxygen exists. Keep in mind that she lives with Patchouli Knowledge, a professional scholar, who may have been residing in the mansion for nearly a century. This could suggest serious memory and learning issues, symptoms of both lead and mercury poisoning.

While Sakuya does not display the the delayed reactions or loss of coordination associated with lead and mercury poisoning, her powers over time may prevent this. If she trips and drops something, which might normally cause someone to notice her decreasing coordination, she can just stop time and undo it.

Another interesting, though flawed, possibility is that the fairy maids have heavy metal poisoning as well. The fairy maids are stated numerous times to be bad at their jobs, spending most of their work hours only able to maintain themselves, but were still hired by Sakuya and continue to be employed by Remilia. With symptoms of anemia, weakness, memory loss, pain, lack of coordination and more it's easy to see how lead and/or mercury poisoning could make a maid bad at their job. Fairies in Touhou Project are often compared to children who are especially susceptible to lead poisoning. The fairy maids would probably slowly improve at their jobs since first being hired, and plateau and slowly decrease as increasing heavy metal levels in their blood poison them and affect their work. Perhaps Remilia and Sakuya see this happen with all the maids and assume it's just how maids or fairies work.

While one might object and that youkai would not be affected by human medical conditions like lead or mercury poisoning, there is a tiny bit of precedent for this. There's an exchange in Touhou 19 where Sanae recommends that Mamizou stop smoking so much: "I don't suppose that smoking too much is good for you. Nor is drinking." This, if admittedly stretched, suggests that certain things that are unhealthy for humans may be unhealthy for certain youkai and similar beings as well. Youkai are also affected by alcohol as well and get drunk. While this might be because of the idea that drinking makes you drunk, is it possible that if knowledge of lead and mercury poisoning spread to the humans of Gensokyo, and they started believing that lead makes you sick, that belief might cause certain youkai and related beings to get sick as well?

Problems with this theory

Neither Patchouli nor Sakuya show certain physical symptoms of mercury poisoning: Skin discolouration (usually reddening), hair loss, or peeling of the skin. Let's compare some artwork from Touhou 6:

As we can see, Reimu has the reddest cheeks which is inconsistent with Sakuya and Patchouli having mercury poisoning. However, an interesting connection is that Reimu wears mostly red, and considering it is traditional to paint the Torii gates of shrines vermilion to ward off evil, it is actually more possible than I initially thought that she could have mercury poisoning as well.

Some might object that Patchouli Knowledge, being a youkai mage, might be immune to toxins. Considering how wizards are stated to often have weak bodies due to interaction with dangerous substances, I find this unlikely. One might argue something similar for Sakuya because of her time manipulation, but we only see her use time manipulation consciously, so we aren't sure. The main question would be whether the process that slows her aging also negates most of her bodily functions, so I guess this would depend on whether we see her eat and breath, and since she gets tired from hypoxia in Touhou 18 she must be breathing and is probably susceptible to poison as well.

The main problems I can think with this theory of are with the fairy maids having heavy metal poisoning as well, which was not the main subject. It's been explained that Remilia goes for quantity over quality for her staff, and Sakuya presumably hires anyone with the most basic of skills. However, it could be possible that Remilia goes for quantity over quality because they all end up low quality due to their poisoning. Given that fairies are used to playing and pulling pranks they are probably unsuited to hard work. The reasoning that they might still be affected by poison is rather weak since much of it relies on a single remark from Sanae, who might be wrong. I still found it interesting to consider.

[manyblinkinglights]

I HAVE DEFEATED THE TWISTING BEAST.

Now I bend the correct way on spins, AND (so long as my laptop's on power), I no longer outpace my hindbody on spins! You still outpace yourself on profound FPS drops, but there was an additional incoordination when that happened that I also just fixed.

[miss-tc-nova]

The sheer rage I felt watching Urianger teleport the gap on the 3rd boss of the Dohn Megg dungeon.

Meanwhile I, A DRAGOON, am stuck because of my incoordination.

HOW TF DO YOU HAVE A CLASS MADE FOR JUMPING BUT CAN'T JUMP A FUCKING GAP! BUT MR CAN'T-SWIM NO-PANTS MAGEE CAN FUCKING TELEPORT?!

HOW IS THAT FAIR, SQUEENIX!!!

TELL ME!

[thisapplepielife]

5 Words Fic Challenge

Thanks for the tag, @hbyrde36!

The rules as follows:

1- generate 5 random words using this generator and then write something using those words! 2- tag 5 (or however many you want) mutuals to challenge!

(If you don’t like the five words you got, re-roll them. This is meant to be a fun little challenge, not something to stress over. Have fun!)

My words were:

Catechetical, incoordination, guitarfish, spilt, & acoustic.

Catechetical was the thorn in my side. Even spellcheck hates it, lol. Is that the first word I'd use? Or that thousandth? No. Does it make absolute sense? Questionable. Go with it. 😂

____

FIC: Steddie, fluff, flirting & innuendo, 2,108 words.

“Okay, Harrington, listen up. We’re gonna do this all catechetical-like,” Eddie bosses, putting Dragon Slayer, his acoustic guitar, in Steve’s hands. 

“I don’t even know what that means,” Steve says, sitting on the floor, his long legs stretched out. Eddie notices that he's holding onto the guitar awkwardly, the picture of utter incoordination. 

Eddie knows Steve Harrington isn’t uncoordinated. Not in the slightest, he’s just nervous.

“Questions and answers, keep up,” Eddie says, “now you ask, and I answer. Me teacher, you student.”

“Do you have a ruler to swat my hand with?” Steve asks playfully, reaching up for the beer in Eddie’s hand. Eddie hands it over, and Steve takes a swig before handing it back.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Eddie taunts, and then adds, “I'm not sure if I can rustle up a ruler. But I do have a set of handcuffs handy,” he says, nodding his head towards the pair hanging on the wall. “So be a good little student, or else."

Steve rolls his eyes. 

“Okay…” Steve trails off, seemingly unsure about this, “first question though, how will I know what questions to ask?”

“Good point,” Eddie says, “well, first things first, if you’re gonna be a guitar god, you’re gonna need a cool name. Like Corroded Coffin. Or Eddie the Banished.”

“That’s really the first thing? You sure about that? Wouldn’t actually knowing how to play the guitar be a more important first step?” Steve asks, looking up at him, suspicious.

“No way, never underestimate what a good stage name can do for you,” Eddie assures, waving his hands around dramatically.

“Fine. I don’t care, you can name me,” Steve says, looking down at Dragon Slayer laying across his chest. Eddie thinks it looks good there. Really good.

“Guitarfish!” Eddie shouts loudly, slightly unhinged, but sure of his choice. Sometimes you have to go with your gut, and his gut is saying Guitarfish.

Steve rolls his eyes, “Why Guitarfish?”

“Because you used to, you know, swim. Like a fish.”

“That doesn't even make sense. I’m not being called Guitarfish. It sounds stupid, dickhead.”

“Sorry, you shoulda named yourself then. Send all complaints to the complaint department. I hear the guy running it is pretty cool though, he might listen to reason.”

“He’s you, isn’t he?” Steve banters dryly, looking down at the strings and giving them a little pluck. It doesn’t sound great, but Eddie’s definitely heard worse. He tried to teach Gareth to play the guitar once, and never again. No fucking way. This can’t go that bad. Nothing can go that bad.

Of course, Eddie wasn’t interested in being this close to Gareth, either. He’s definitely got ulterior motives today. And he’s about to make good use of those motives, right now.

Eddie gets down on the floor behind Steve, and scoots forward until he has bracketed Steve’s body with his own. Is it a requirement to teach him to play the guitar? Probably not, but he’s doing it anyway. 

Eddie puts his beer down, steadying it, and then he hooks his chin over Steve’s shoulder, “Okay, we’re starting with an E minor chord. All the action is here on the second fret,” Eddie says, moving Steve’s fingers to the second fret, counting down from the top, “one, two. Okay, put your index finger on the fifth string, and your middle finger on the fourth string.” Eddie says, counting up from the bottom string, the thinnest one, and up to the top, the thickest. Then he adjusts Steve’s fingers to be in the right place on the guitar, “The fourth, the fifth.”

“The minor fall, the major lift,” Steve says absentmindedly, and now Eddie is the baffled king. 

“You know Leonard Cohen?” Eddie asks, shocked at this development. 

“Robin,” Steve says, by way of explanation.

“Robin. Robin, she of Madonna, Blondie, Bowie, and Beatles fame? That Robin?” 

“That’s the one,” Steve laughs, “she is a complex woman, who won’t be judged for her varied and vast array of interests by a dingus like me.”

“And you’re a parrot,” Eddie teases, and Steve laughs, “because that sounded just like Robin was in the room with me.”

Steve grins.

“Okay, middle finger there,” Eddie says, getting back to the teaching.

“I know where I’d like to put my middle finger,” Steve grumbles, and Eddie grins behind his back, but otherwise ignores him.

It looks uncomfortable, with Steve’s large hands, so Eddie makes a slight adjustment, “Try this instead,” Eddie says, and he has him use his middle and ring fingers instead. He definitely has long enough fingers to make that work, Eddie knows from experience. But that’s neither here nor there, right this second.

Later, maybe. 

“Does that feel more natural?” Eddie asks, looking at his finger placement.

“I thought I was supposed to be the one asking the questions?” Steve teases, and Eddie smiles.

“Smartass.”

“It does,” Steve finally answers, and Eddie nods.

“Okay then,” Eddie says, “now strum,” and he gets ahold of Steve’s right hand, and gets him to strum with the pick, and then lets go so Steve can do it on his own.

“This might be easier if you’d just tell me what I’m trying to play,” Steve grouches. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Eddie says, and he’s gonna keep torturing him a little longer. It’s too much fun. Annoying Steve is his favorite pastime these days. Well, second favorite, maybe.

Steve grouches, but strums the chord and it sounds good, it sounds right. Now he just needs to make the switch to the second chord, and they’ll be home free. Sort of. 

“Okay, now move your top finger up to the sixth string, and your ring finger down to the third,” Eddie says, and moves Steve’s fingers to do exactly that. 

Steve does it.

“Okay, strum,” and Steve does.

“Good, switch back,” Eddie instructs, and Steve fumbles a little, and Eddie knows that it’s awkward trying to get your fingers to do new things. “Go up with the top finger, and down with the bottom. Then back together, meet in the middle. And apart.”

“Feels like I’m stretching,” Steve says, lewdly.

And Eddie laughs, "You've got a dirty mind, Harrington." 

“Excuse me? I'm positive that what I said was innocent. You're the one that made it about something else." 

“Yes, you’re totally an innocent bystander here,” Eddie says, leaning his head against Steve’s.

Steve keeps up the switching, as Eddie talks him through it, right against his ear,  “And switch, and strum. Switch, strum. Switch, strum,” Eddie says in time with what he has in mind, rhymically. “That’s it, good.”

“Good seems unlikely,” Steve grumbles, but he keeps switching and strumming. 

“Keep doing that, right there, just like that, yes,” Eddie says.

“Now, that sounds dirty,” Steve sasses, and Eddie bites him on the neck. Steve jerks, yanking his elbow backwards, suddenly, making an ugly noise on the guitar strings. 

In all the flailing, Steve hits their shared bottle of beer, sending it skittering off the overturned red milk crate Eddie was using as a table. 

“Fuck, sorry!” Steve yells, and Eddie can tell he’s embarrassed.

“It’s fine. No reason to cry over spilt milk, er, beer in this case, I guess,” Eddie assures, hurrying and crawling over towards the foaming, shooting mess, trying to minimize the spray zone. He grabs a dirty shirt off the floor, and mops up what he can, before tossing the shirt in the vague direction of his dirty clothes hamper. “See? Fine.”

“Yeah, if you like the smell of beer in your bedroom,” Steve grumbles.

“Well, it has smelled of worse things before,” Eddie says, and he laughs when Steve wrinkles his nose. 

Eddie scoots back behind him, and kisses him on the neck this time, and Steve leans into the touch instead of jumping out of his skin.

“Put your fingers back where they were,” Eddie instructs, and Steve gets the right strings, but the wrong fret. “Up one fret,” he says, and he helps slide Steve’s fingers back up where they should be. 

“And a one and a two,” Eddie teases singsongingly, but Steve starts strumming and switching between the chords with more ease than before. “That’s really good, sweetheart. Now you’re cooking with gas,” Eddie says, and smiles to himself. Now he just sounds like Uncle Wayne always did while he was teaching Eddie all manner of things over the years. Guitar, cooking, how to change a flat tire.

Steve does it, his strumming hand eventually loosening up a little, and Eddie leans his face close to Steve’s.

“Okay, now for the actual strumming pattern,” Eddie says, “put your fingers on that first chord,” and Steve does it. “Great. It’s one, two, three and four. Do an up strum on the ands,” Eddie says, and he takes Steve’s hand to guide the pick across the strings, manipulating him into doing exactly what he wants him to. And then he whispers, “And switch,” and Steve does, so he says, “and switch,” again, and Steve does it, again. “And switch.”

“Stop that, you’re making me horny,” Steve says, laughing at him.

“Just now? I’ve been horny since we started,” Eddie says, pressing his whole body harder all along Steve’s back.

Steve laughs, and lulls back into Eddie, and Eddie kisses his cheek.

“Can you play that now? I’ll count.”

Steve nods, and sits up straighter again, and he fucking does. It’s stilted, and a little awkward, and fucking America, but it’s a song. The bare bones of one, but still music. This is music. He taught Steve Harrington how to play a song, and that’s still pretty wild to ponder.

“One…two…three, and…four, switch,” Eddie says softly, then repeats it when Steve switches from the E minor to the D6/9 chord, and back again. He seems to get it, so Eddie moves to the real strumming pattern.

“First chord: Down, down, up, down, up, down, up, switch,” Eddie instructs, and Steve does it, “Down, up, up, up, down, up,” and it’s a little clumsy. 

“No, I think it’s up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, B, A, select, start,” Steve sasses, and Eddie laughs out loud. 

Steve misses a few of the downs and ups, but he keeps repeating it, and Steve keeps strumming until he's doing it better, more reliably.

And then Eddie gets him up to full speed, increasing the pace of his instructions. Steve’s fingers aren’t totally on board, not yet, but he’s doing a pretty great fucking job for a total beginner.

“Really emphasize and feel that, up, up, up strumming on the D6/9,” Eddie suggests, and Steve does.

Then Steve stops abruptly, “Is this A Horse With No Name?” he asks, “Is that what the fuck I’m playing right now?”

Eddie cackles with delight, “It is! And you recognized it! So, you must have an excellent teacher.” 

Steve laughs, and starts playing it again, better now that his ear is involved and he knows what it's supposed to sound like. 

So, this time, Eddie sings in his ear instead of counting. He’s not sure he knows all the lyrics, but he makes up what he doesn’t know, and just adds a lot of la la las to fill in the blanks. It’s not exact, and there are more than a few missteps. Steve’s fingers don’t quite have this mastered yet, but he’s playing a fucking song, that’s for damn sure. So, it’s not perfect. Not at all. Not from either of them. 

But it's absolutely recognizable.

It sounds fucking great to Eddie, but he knows he might be just a little bit biased.

When the song is over, Steve turns his head to look at Eddie, and Eddie leans forward to kiss him. Steve kisses him back.

He kisses him like he hasn't done it in weeks, months, and Eddie loves him for it. He loves him. 

When they finally break apart, Eddie hugs him around his waist, tight.

“Look at that, my boyfriend plays the guitar now.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but says, “Okay, enough guitar lessons, time for bed.”

And Eddie’s not gonna argue with that suggestion, no way, no how.

After, when they are tangled together in Eddie’s sheets, in his room that now smells faintly of beer, Steve mutters, “That fucking song is stuck in my head, now. So, thanks a lot.”

And Eddie rolls into him, laughing uncontrollably, brushing his hand through Steve's mussed hair, pushing it back off his forehead, just like Steve likes. 

The damn song is stuck in his head, too, but that’s a small price to pay. For this. For this laughter. 

For this love. 

I'm sure the Eddie teaches Steve to play guitar trope has been done to death, but when you're given acoustic, guitarfish and incoordination, that seems like an obvious leap to make, lol. (And a shout out to the several YouTube guitar tutorials I mashed this together from!)

Absolutely no pressure tags: @dreamwatch, @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe, @designatedgrape, @wynnyfryd & @penny00dreadful and anyone else that wants to do it! It was pretty dang fun.

And if you now want the same earworm Eddie saddled them both with, enjoy! It's good thing nobody can see what I'm listening to on Spotify, I'm sure this on repeat only alternating with Hallelujah, makes me look slightly unhinged. 🤣

[midwestmade29]

Birthday Girl 🥳

Just a lil sumthin’ sumthin’ I wrote for @madhatterbri for her birthday 😏🎂

This story is 100% smut. Minors keep scrolling and do not interact.

Mentions of drinking/being drunk, fingering, unprotected sex. Read at your own discretion.

Word count: 1.5k

Divider by: Me 🙂

Hangman celebrates his birthday girl…

You and Hangman had just returned to your hotel room after a night out celebrating your birthday with friends. You were dressed to the nines in the dress you bought specifically for the occasion and a pink “birthday girl” cowboy hat adorned your head. Your friends had bought it for you so everywhere you went, people would know it’s your birthday, but also because it was a homage to your cowboy.

When you stumbled in the door to your hotel room, you kicked off your heels and nearly fell over in the process. Hangman caught you and helped steady you while you were lost in a fit of giggles!

“Easy there sweetheart. I don’t want you hurting yourself,” his words came out a little slurred.

You held onto his strong arms while you tried to compose yourself, and once you were settled you glanced up at your handsome cowboy. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the effect Hangman always had on you, but suddenly you had the need to kiss him. You grabbed his shirt and pulled him towards you, his lips only a whisper away and a familiar scent was on his breath- whiskey.

You closed the gap between your lips and moaned into his mouth as he tugged on your hair. With his free hand he unzipped your dress and you happily shimmied out of it, leaving it in a pool around your feet.

“So fucking beautiful,” he said while he took in the sight of you wearing only your skimpy lace bra and panties now. “While I can appreciate some sexy lingerie, I think it will look better on the floor.”

Hangman wrapped his arms around you, and you nuzzled your face into his neck planting soft kisses along the stubble there. His hands made their way to the clasp of your bra, unhooking it skillfully before taking a step back and slowly pulling it down your arms. His fingertips were barely grazing your skin which caused goosebumps to spread like wildfire all over you.

He tossed it aside and made quick work of getting you out of your panties before lifting you up with ease, gripping your thighs as he carried his naked birthday girl over to the bed. Your fingers were laced in his blonde curls, your breasts bouncing with every step he took. He stumbled slightly from the alcohol coursing through his system, but he didn’t dare drop you.

He released you on the bed, making you bounce once your body hit the mattress. Your pink cowboy hat was restricting your view of Hangman, so you pulled it off a tossed it onto the nightstand. Hangman seemed a little disappointed when he spoke.

“Aw, not gonna keep your hat on? Maybe when it’s my birthday that can be my gift from you. Me fucking your tight little cunt with nothing on but your pink cowboy hat…”

Your entire body blushed at the thought.

Hangman’s length bulged against his jeans just dying to be freed. You watched ardently as he unbuckled his belt, then undoing the button underneath next. You drunkenly cheered as he slid the zipper down, grinning like an idiot when his jeans slid down his legs and hit the floor. Hangman smiled that sexy smile that you loved so much, and it made the muscles in your stomach tense up.

You started squirming as he fidgeted with his black leather jacket, his incoordination from all the whiskey he drank made it more difficult to remove. Much to your dismay, he wasn’t about to let your impatience go unannounced!

“Tsk tsk. Look at my birthday girl being so impatient! I know you’d like it if I ripped all this to shreds, but I’d hate to ruin a perfectly nice outfit. You’ll just have to wait…” he teased.

You pretended to pout as he continued his slow pace, but your demeanor changed when he removed his t-shirt, exposing his toned chest. When he hooked his fingers under the waistband of his boxers and slid them down, you bit your bottom lip as his length sprung free. Hangman eyed you hungrily as he bent down and placed his knees on the mattress.

In one swift motion, he pushed your legs apart with his knee and both of you gasped when his cock brushed against your slick cunt.

“Fuck, sweetheart! You’re so wet for me already and I haven’t even had my way with you yet” he murmured against your collarbone.

Hangman laid beside you on the bed and buried his face in your neck, kissing, biting, and sucking the sensitive skin there. His hand massaged your breast while his fingers toyed with your nipple, the roughness from his calloused fingers making it pucker in an instant. Your pants and soft moans were music to his ears, and they encouraged him to repeat the same ritual on your other breast.

“Mmm that’s so sexy sweetheart, keep making those noises for me,” he whispered into your ear.

His hand started trailing down your abdomen, the pads of his fingers leaving a fiery trail in their wake the more skin they caressed.

“Please go lower, Adam! Touch me! I-I need you to touch me!” You begged.

“Take my hand and show me where you need it most. Show me what my birthday girl needs her cowboy to do to her.”

You eagerly grabbed his hand and placed it on your sensitive clit, moving his fingers slowly around it. Hangman couldn’t help but groan at the feeling of his fingers circling around your little bundle of nerves! He captured your lips as you moaned, swallowing the sound before it had a chance to greet the air. Your tongues danced with one another as he slid a finger in your slick cunt. Your hips bucked against it, your breathing accelerating the faster he pumped.

“More, I need more!” You whined.

Hangman obliged and added another finger, the thickness of both making you curse under your breath. He knew how worked up you were already but didn’t want you to cum just yet unless it was all over his hard length. He slowed his place and spoke brazenly.

“I need to be inside you sweetheart. My cock needs to feel your warmth!”

Hangman started to maneuver his way on top of you, but you placed your hands on his chest to stop him. Your voice was low and sultry when you informed him of your plan.

“It’s my birthday, I’m calling the shots, so I’m on top this time. I want to watch you fall apart while I ride you.”

There was no protesting from him as he situated himself better on the bed! You swung your leg over and let it rest on the side of your cowboy, kissing him fiercely as your cunt hovered over his hard length. Your eyes locked onto one another as you inched yourself down slowly, careful not to take too much in at one time.

Almost instinctively, Hangman’s hands made their way to your hips and the tips of his fingers dug into your flesh the more your sweetness enveloped his cock. Your walls stretched to fit every inch of your cowboy as he filled you to the hilt.

With every buck of your hips, you eventually found the perfect pace and rhythm. Hangman’s cock was buried deep inside you, hitting that magical spot every time you rocked against it. His pelvic bone massaged your clit, sending you into high gear. Hangman’s voice was raspy as he spoke in between panting.

“You look so fucking good on top of me, I can’t take my eyes off you! You have no idea how good you make me feel sweetheart,”

The delicious pressure that had built up inside you was dying to be released and you could tell Hangman was about to combust underneath you too. The words that fell from your lips were incomprehensible as you finally toppled over the edge! Your body shuddered against Hangman as your walls continued to grip him, your wetness making a mess all over your cowboy the more as you rode out your release.

“S-so good for me, look how much you came,” he said breathlessly. “Cum for me, Adam! I want you to cum!” was all you needed to say to cause Hangman to call out your name as his release overtook him.

You could feel his length pulsate against your walls as he filled you with every last drop of his seed. His once tense body was now completely relaxed as it descended back down to earth. Both of you chuckled and smiled into the post orgasm kiss you shared since you were still lost in pure bliss.

Once you were lying next to Hangman and reveling in the comfort of his arms, sleep was threatening to overtake you both. Your fingers skimmed through his chest hair as your cowboy absentmindedly drug his fingertips up and down your arm. As he kissed the top of your head, Hangman whispered “Happy Birthday sweetheart...” causing you to smile and nuzzle into him even more.

[wheneverfeasible]

Blackmail; pt. 2

wc: 1898 || Ao3 || rating: T (for now) || story summary: Steve gets caught making out with a boy by none other than Eddie “The Freak” Munson — Eddie’s silence comes with a price.

Part 1 || Part 2

He couldn’t believe he was fucking doing this.

Steve’s fingers tapped his annoyance out on his steering wheel as he glared at the trailer door in front of his car. He had no desire to be here, no desire to think about whatever the hell Munson was going to demand of him today, or the possibility that the older boy would go back on his word and tell their homophobic town that he was a fucking poof.

He knew that he was lucky that Munson hadn’t beaten his ass when he’d found Steve and What’s-his-face sucking face among the trees, unknowingly near where the older boy did his drug deals since Tommy had always been the one doing the buying, but that didn’t mean he was any happier with what had happened.

Munson’s smirk as Steve kissed his rings had made bile burn in Steve’s gut, but what really had made Steve seconds away from swinging his own fist was when Munson patted him on the head after like a fucking dog and condescendingly called him a ‘good boy’. Steve had never hated someone as much as he hated Munson in that moment.

He couldn’t deny that Munson had him by the balls though. In a non-sexy way. Not that he’d ever want the sexy way to happen with the Freak. Blegh. Steve felt sick just thinking about it. No, Munson had him trapped, blackmailing him with his secret to be his perfect little lackey. It was going to tank whatever reputation he’d managed to hold on to after Nancy.

He didn’t really care about the King title though. Hargrove can have that if he wanted it so desperately. After everything Steve had been through, being the reigning champ of keg stands didn’t seem that important anymore, and it wasn’t like he hung out with his former friends much either. Sure, sometimes he missed Tommy and Carol, but more that he missed what they used to be, what they could have been, had Tommy not tried to be so much like his father.

So there Steve was, slutting it up to find some kind of human connection, thinking with his dick more than he did with his head. Which led him to this horrifying situation. And, of course, Munson was fucking late.

Aggravated by Munson’s inconsideration, he slammed the palm of his hand on the center of the steering wheel again and held it there for several seconds, though he didn’t let it linger as much as he would like. Munson may be a selfish jerk, but he wasn’t the only one in the trailer park and it was still morning. Luckily for everyone involved, the door to the Munson trailer finally swung open a few moments and Munson came stumbling out with an unrepentant grin on his face.

“Ah, my valiant chariot!” the older boy crooned as he popped open the door and slid inelegantly inside, all long limbs and incoordination as he threw his bag and non-lunch lunch pail behind his shoulder uncaringly in the backseat. “Let’s ride!” he crowed, drumming his hands on the dashboard after slamming the passenger door shut.

“Careful!” Steve hissed in agitation. Christ, this guy was worse than the kids. “Jesus fucking Christ, man, stop behaving like a wild animal and show some respect,” he muttered, leaning forward to check the dashboard as though Munson’s erratic behavior might have damaged it in some way.

Munson rolled his eyes, not looking contrite at all. “Don’t forget who holds your leash here, Harrington. Perhaps you should show more respect.” His smile, when Steve glanced over at him, sent a chill down the younger boy’s spine. There were moments when Munson was goofy, almost childlike, and then there were times when he looked just as dangerous as all the rumors said he was.

This time, it was definitely the latter.

Steve wasn’t planning on letting the asshole walk all over him, but he also knew that he had no defenses yet, no way to fight back. He was at Munson’s mercy, whether he liked it or not. He had to be the obedient little servant or suffer the consequences of Munson’s wrath. Fuck.

I’m not a dog, he wanted to say all the same, though he swallowed down that impulse for now as he finally started their way to school. His knuckles were white where they gripped the steering wheel, his lips twisted into an annoyed frown. It felt awkward having Munson of all people in his passenger seat. He honestly had no idea why Munson would demand a ride from him when he had his own vehicle.

Though, now that Steve thought about it, he hadn’t seen the van outside the trailer. He figured it had probably been parked elsewhere, not giving it another moment’s thought. Not when he had Munson suddenly fiddling with the radio station.

“Ugh,” Munson muttered, seemingly not finding anything of interest on the radio. “Remind me to bring one of my tapes tomorrow,” he said in a huff. Steve had no intention of doing that. Like hell was he going to willingly submit himself to that garbage. Munson let out an annoyed sigh and leaned back in the seat with his arms crossed, though his leg jiggled up and down and his fingers tapped along his biceps.

Luckily, however, Munson didn’t try to initiate any further commentary. It did leave the drive to school in an awkward silence though, since Munson had also slammed off the radio. Steve thought about turning it back on just to annoy the other boy, but honestly he’d take an awkward silence over Munson threatening him with a new humiliation or risking exposing his secret.

There was no denying the power imbalance here. Before, back when Steve had been King, it would have been the other way around. Though he hadn’t really been the aggressor in the bullying that went on during his time at Hawkins High, he hadn’t entirely been innocent either. He’d had his head too far up his own ass to care about anyone other than himself and his own circle of friends. Even by just his sophomore year, he’d held sway among the student populace. By his junior?

Honestly, Steve wished he had done more last year. He wished that he had stood up to Tommy earlier, had focused on more than just himself, and genuinely regretted his actions regarding Nancy and Jonathan, even if Jonathan’s actions still made him a little squeamish. None of that mattered now, however, because all the power he might once have had was now resting entirely in Munson’s hands.

Great.

Really though, Steve had no one to blame but himself. He really shouldn’t have been so careless as to start necking with a guy so close to school grounds. He was just thankful Munson hadn’t walked up when it became more than kissing.

After an unbearably awkward ride, which even Munson seemed to feel by the way he was fidgeting, Steve was finally pulling into the school parking lot with scant minutes to spare before the late bell rang. He hurriedly got out of the car, grabbing his own bag and ready to book it the hell out of there…except Munson was still waiting expectantly in the passenger seat.

Steve frowned heavily at the man, causing the man to smirk with crossed arms, glancing pointedly at the closed door. Muttering a litany of curses under his breath as he rolled his eyes towards the heavens, Steve stomped around to the passenger side and opened the door for his torturer. For really, what else could Munson ever be to him?

“Good boy, you’re learning,” Munson’s smarmy voice drawled as he slid out of the car more gracefully than he had slid in. “My things,” he added with a smirk, pointing to the back of the car.

“Fucking get them yourself, Munson,” Steve finally snapped, unable to hold back any longer. “I’m not your fucking dog.”

Munson’s hand shot out lightning quick, hooking a finger at the buttoned V of Steve’s polo, yanking Steve forward suddenly, causing a small gasp to leave the younger boy with widened eyes. Munson’s own dark eyes mocked him.

“Don’t forget who holds the leash here, sweetheart. I own you, or have you forgotten that?” Munson smirked again, though this time it was sharp and lethal. “Unless you’d like me to let everyone know what the former King Steve gets up to in the woods behind school?”

Steve hated Munson with every fiber of his being. He also knew that Munson had him fucking trapped. He grit his teeth, knowing he had to play it safe if he wanted to survive the rest of his time at Hawkins High. Hell, the rest of his time in Hawkins in general. The town was not forgiving of anyone or anything that went against the grain. Munson’s own reputation was evidence of that.

“No,” he forced out, voice raspy with emotion. “No I don’t want you to.”

Munson pulled back slightly, releasing Steve’s collar before shoving him back against the side of the car with a small push. “Then be a good doggy and get me my things, pet. Maybe I ought to get you a collar to better remind you.”

It would be so easy to punch Munson in his smug little face. Except Steve had never really been that good at fighting. The few times he’d tried, it was always his ass being handed back to him. He might be able to land a punch in the freak’s face, but Munson would no doubt come back twice as hard. Steve had no desire to feel what those rings might feel like busting his face open.

Drawing in a steadying breath against the side of the car, Steve shot Munson a fierce glare before turning and yanking the older boy’s bag and lunch pail out of the backseat. Munson snatched the latter out of his hands quickly, though he left the bag with Steve.

“Good boy. You can carry my things to my first class now,” he grinned. “It’s time to show Hawkins High just who your king is now, isn’t that right, puppy?”

Munson laughed, turning on his heels and striding off, leaving Steve to hurriedly lock up his car and chase after him. Steve felt his face flame with embarrassment and ire. He had to tell himself that this was only temporary. He would find a way to free himself from Munson’s hold, before graduation. He couldn’t trust the man not to spill his secrets out of spite.

So fine. He would take Munson to class. He’d sit at his freak table at lunch. He’d take Munson home. He knew that the school would be curious what sort of dirt Munson had on him, because it would be obvious he wasn’t doing this out of his own free will, but any guess of theirs would be preferable to the truth. He was just thankful Munson didn’t seem to care about the boy he caught Steve with, at least.

He could do this. He had no choice. As long as he didn’t stir the pot too much, Munson wouldn’t have reason to punish him. He wouldn’t be a fucking dog, but he’d kissed Eddie’s rings and agreed to this farce. As long as he did his part…

What could go wrong?

[mumblesplash]

back on my amv bullshit :)))

song is beat the love by autoheart (lyrics included under the cut bc they're like 90% of the reason for this song choice and also kinda hard to hear)

[Verse 1] Been shocked into a state of delirium words cannot describe I am Jekyll filled with disagreement, you are Mr. Hyde Yeah, there's something running through me, it's incredibly strong An electrifying feeling that I've known all along A burning realization that our incoordination is corrupt

[Chorus] I cannot be what you want me to be Let our cannonball, rise up and fall I cannot see what you want me to see So you beat the love right out of me

[Verse 2] I've had a fistful of your knee jerk reactions, always jumping the gun I can't be accountable for everything that you have undone There's a window of opportunity for us to move on But you're constantly reminding me of what I do wrong Pot calling kettle black, here’s to yet another attack, and that’ll be that

[Chorus] I cannot be what you want me to be Let our cannonball, rise up and fall I cannot see what you want me to see So you beat the love right out of me

I cannot be what you want me to be Let our cannonball, rise up and fall I cannot see what you want me to see So you beat the love right out of me

Oh, yes, you beat the love right out of me Oh, yes, you beat the love right out of me

[itstopplingdomino]

tolerance | react drabble pt. 1

A/N: I fell in the toilet and the first thing I thought was "this is a good drabble/fic idea". Let's see if I could execute writing it well.

pairing: harry potter x gn!reader (Can be read as platonic and/or romantic sense) summary: how would certain Harry Potter characters react when they finds out you are injured but doesn't seem so from the outside...

tags: mentions/details of injuries (blood, cuts, etc..), implied physical abuse, generally fluffs, no use of y/n (usage of you/nicknames instead), gender-neutral reader, no-war alternate universe. other parts: part 2(hermione granger x reader), ron weasley x reader, draco malfoy x reader, fred weasley x reader, george weasley x reader.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

⟢ Harry Potter ⟢

Clumsy is a new, unwelcomed habit for you. You didn't know when it truly started, but recently you notice that you'd bump into walls, hit a corner of tables, or trip over nothing like it's a superstition ritual to fend off bad luck as ironic as that sounds. Or just maybe.. your luck ran out.

You've collected quite an amount of bruises across your body, all fairly hidden by your long sleeves and long pants; it's winter and you're not taking any chances despite the existence of the warming charm.

On a particularly less cold day and around thirty minutes in brewing a potion, you decided to discard your robe, loosen a few buttons, and roll up your sleeves. In the dim setting of the classroom, the marks from your carelessness does not appear clearly but as soon as the class is done and everyone rushes out for a fresh air, the partially clouded sun provides just enough light to alert Harry.

He grabs your hand, the one you were in the middle of rolling down the sleeve of, and hold it close to his eyes. He observes a little more than a second, seemingly fighting against something in his mind, then he asks; what happened? did someone do this? when? are you alright? have you gone to Madam Pomfrey?

You chuckle at his display of concern which only bring confusion to his face.

Harry says your name in a gentle reproach.

With a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips, you slowly explain the lack of spatial awareness and sudden incoordination that you recently gained as the two of you begin to walk towards the Great Hall.

He reddened at his misjudgement of your bruises and apologise for assuming terrible things at first but you find his concerns all too heartwarming to even nitpick at his assumptions.

Over the next few weeks, old bruises healed with considerably less amount of new ones forming. The talk with Harry encouraged you to try and be more aware and cautious, but you have an inkling that a certain green eyed bespectacled boy is the true reason for your lessening accidents.

The way you'd hit his hand instead of a corner of the table, or the little announcements he'd make when there's an uneven pathway, or how he'd randomly put an arm around your shoulder and steer you off your course (which then, from the corner of your eyes, you noticed it would've led you into a wall).

You suppose you still have some luck left after all.

You thank the world for him.