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#my goodness the lad can't even fight well
octuscle · 2 days
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You’re so good at transforming others so I was wondering if I could thank you by transforming you. Who do you want to become? 😊💪
I am almost 27 years old. I graduated from university almost two years ago. Since then, I have been working for an auditing company, auditing the risk management systems of banks. Not a particularly erotic job. But well paid. I travel a lot and my working hours are also less from 09:00 to 17:00. Not good conditions for getting back into shape. I used to be a competitive athlete. Open-water swimming. My shoulders and back are still quite broad… But the waist is no longer as narrow as it was in my best days. Well… The course of life, I would say…
Sunday morning. Normally I would sleep in, go somewhere for breakfast, then maybe do a bit of work. But today I feel like going for a run. At 06:00 in the morning. In the drizzle. I'm really crazy! But running clears my head. After just under an hour, I pass an outdoor gym in the city park. Yawning empty in this weather, of course. I really enjoy it! It's almost 10:00 when I get back home. Now for a hot shower. Uh, no. A cold shower! Hardens off. And then breakfast. Low-fat quark, protein powder, bananas, some fruit. Doesn't taste particularly good. But gives me the energy I need. A bit of Resident Evil 3 to relax. And around 3 p.m. I have to make my way to the stadium. Kick-off is at 5:30 p.m., and I'd like to be in my regular place in the south curve at 4 p.m. Getting in the mood with the boys. Highlight of the week!
Hehehe, that was a good brawl with the opponent's fans last night. That's a good black eye… And my lip is still a bit swollen too. Looks a bit dangerous. Despite the crisp white shirt, navy blue suit and polished black Oxfords. Even after a year on the job, I still haven't got used to getting up early on Mondays. Mondays are usually at 03:30. An hour of push-ups and a bit of weights training, as best I can at home. And then get ready, go to the airport and usually the plane takes off at 07:00 or so. And then I'm back to being the good auditor candidate. It's not as if the job isn't fun. But especially after the weekends, which are packed with hard training and fun with the lads in and around the stadium, the changeover is tough. I can only hope that none of my customers or colleagues ask me who beat me up like that at the weekend. I can't say that I'm one of the militant Ultra fans… Well, if anyone asks, I'll say that it happened during boxing training. They'll take my word for it. At the latest when I take off my jacket and people see my shirt, which looks like it's been painted onto my skin, nobody questions the boxer in me anymore.
05:30 on a Tuesday morning. An hour's run, then an hour's workout in the hotel gym, breakfast, 09:00 at the client's desk. A routine that I would never have expected a few weeks ago when I was doing my Master's degree. With your criminal record, the blatant undercut, the tattoos on your neck and the back of your hands, you'll never get a serious job, my parents complained. But damn it, I'm clever, I'm disciplined and I'm hungry for success. In the cage at MMA, in the fan curve at the stadium, at university and now at work. And fuck, when I show up at a customer's in a suit that perfectly accentuates my athletic figure, I'm surrounded by an aura of respect. Even if I'm the rookie in the project. For the first few days, my colleagues tried to persuade me to go out for dinner or a drink with them in the evening. Not in the mood! I found a club near the hotel where I can train properly in the evenings. Not the kind of wimpy workout I get at the hotel.
I'm so fed up with this fucking Master's thesis. Pumping, eating, fighting… This is what I live for! I've been working at the martial arts school since I got my bachelor's degree. On the one hand in accounting. And also as a trainer. Shit, why do I even want anything else? Would I like it better if I became an desk jockey in some office? I suspect not.
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I love the moment when I open my gym in the morning. The sweat from last night is still in the air. Whoever had the last shift yesterday didn't leave anything tidy. I do my rounds and stuff forgotten socks, jockstraps and water bottles into the lost-and-found box. Okay, I wank on it again first. There's nothing like the smell of a used jockstrap that's still a little damp. I don't officially open for another hour, so I have that long to get my body ready for the day with the weights and sandbag. Let's see how full it gets. The place isn't yet self-sustaining. But with my jobs as a bouncer and my OF account, I'm more than able to keep my head above water. At least my tattoo artist doesn't have to worry about me not paying my bills. It's better that way. After all, it's his job to make sure I'm scary!
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worstloki · 2 years
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people fr are like "do you expect Loki to always be in armour? 🤨" and I'm here to answer that Yes! Yes I do! In fight situations, at the very least! Take a look at Thor! Take a look at Loki in Thor 1! Or either of them in Avengers 1! Or even - dare I say - Thor 2! Loki's got LOTS of outfits, switching pieces between them and across scenes, even. He goes through the most outfit changes, and they were all cool and detailed and suited to the situations! Even when not armour! So Yes! I either expect him to reflect such bombardment of clothing in the series as well (within bounds of what is reasonable) or armour when he's fighting. Or at the very least for him to be wearing some green.
#'why is it BROWN' 'omg you can't just ask why it's brown...' 'ok. why is he working with the timeline brainwashing genocide fascists?' 'um'#the Loki show#is the mcu for real like we're not going to put loki in his signature colours in a show with his name on it#what kind of clownery#my dude he was in green when he was in a cell on asgard#he got away from thanos in green - albeit hastily modified and a bit worn down - armour#bestie he didn't don a single horned helm in the entire season#my guy that is not loki if he cannot summon a new outfit even when the exact topic is broached in a conversation#my friends please consider that he has inexplicably not been able to get a single dagger of his own to himself in the show#his magic looks like goop and is used twice maybe three times in the series#he calls enchanting an amateur thing and then 3 episodes later needs to be taught by Sylvie and struggles#WHAT IS GOING ON#Thor 1 is shaking in Loki's custom made baby seal leather boots rn#L-Loki can't even do mag-- I can't say it 🤢#THOR has recently done more actual proper magic than Loki#my goodness the lad can't even fight well#what happened to his ridiculously accurate dagger aim and the whole mastery of magic and whatnot#AND THEN THEY ALSO WON'T LET HIM HAVE DECENT CLOTHES?#im losing it#are we sure this is Loki? as in LOKI Loki?#''do you expect Loki to always be in armour'' NO BUT IT WOULD BE NICE FOR HIM TO RESEMBLE THE CHARACTER#don't tell me it's Loki being out of his element he did that in Thor 1 Avengers 1 Thor 2 Thor 3 and Infinity War already#don't tell me they needed to strip him down to build him back up. Thor went through that in Thor 1 and it was respectful#it's not even that it's office wear that bothers me it's that it's BORING office it's unsuited to the character#his whole thing is breaking boxes what do you mean he's worn grey and brown the entire show#Wanda got a glow up and Sam got a glowup and Kate and Clint got new fits#man... Loki got a glow down#and that's saying a LOT since he started the series at the end of Avengers 1 after Thanos and getting beat by the Hulk/Avengers#if Loki being a good guy means everyone keeps calling him evil and he's gotta dress down and get beat up constantly... let him be a bad guy#he's literally got nothing to lose here but a shirt that will expose every blood vessel in his abdomen if attacked with 1 glass of water
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youngks-smile · 17 days
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What I Want You To Know About Long COVID
Well lads, I've been suffering from Long COVID for over a year now. My life is at a complete standstill. I'm 25 years old and I'm too sick to go back to school, I can't work, I had to move back in with my parents and I'm still stuck here.
Here are just a few things I wish people knew about Long COVID, including things I didn't know myself until I got it.
COVID destroys your immune system. Yes, even if you don't have Long COVID. Are you getting sick more often now? When you get sick, does it last longer? There are many studies showing that COVID causes t cell depletion, even in mild COVID cases! T cells are how your body remembers how to fight off infections you've had before so losing those cells? Bad news.
Your initial infection can be mild and you can still get Long COVID. Right from Yale Medicine, "Most people with Long COVID had mild acute COVID." (This is also a good link for a basic Long COVID overview).
There can be a gap of time between when you "get better" from the initial COVID infection to the onset of Long COVID symptoms. Some people get sick with an initial COVID infection and never get better. Some get better and then weeks or months later start developing Long COVID symptoms. Long COVID symptoms can even fluctuate over time, can go away for months and then suddenly come back.
So many people have Long COVID and don't realize it. Do you feel more tired lately but no matter how much you sleep, nothing helps? Is it harder to concentrate at work or school? Can you just not think like you used to? You could have Long COVID and not even know it. Even mild post-COVID symptoms are still Long COVID.
COVID can do anything to your body. Long COVID has over 200 recognized symptoms and can affect basically any part or system of your body. There is no one mechanism or cause of Long COVID which unfortunately also means there's no one cure either.
The effects of COVID are cumulative. Each COVID reinfection increases your chances of developing Long COVID. COVID is also affecting your body in other ways, yes, even if you're otherwise young and healthy! "Repeat COVID-19 infections increase risk of organ failure, death".
Once you have Long COVID, repeat COVID infections will make your symptoms worse. "80% [of Long COVID patients] saw their symptoms worsen [from reinfection]. In 60% of people who were in recovery or remission from Long COVID, reinfection caused a recurrence of Long COVID."
There is a lot more I want to say about Long COVID but I want to keep this post at least somewhat manageable to read. Like how when COVID is contracted during pregnancy, those COVID-exposed fetuses have a 6.3-fold increased risk of motor developmental delays, or that another study found 50% of babies exposed to COVID in utero had developmental delays.
You need to keep caring about COVID, for others around you and also for yourself even if you're "healthy". Everyone is at risk. And don't forget 40-60% of COVID infections are asymptomatic, which is why masking even if you feel fine is crucial. The only way right now to not get Long COVID is to not get COVID in the first place. It's not too late, if you've stopped masking it's never too late to start again! I know it's easy to get distracted by things in your life that seem more real than the possibility of getting sick some time in the future, and the peer pressure to not mask can be intense. But it only feels less real or less important until your entire life is having Long COVID. Trust me.
I know this is a complicated issue, many people can't afford to stay home when sick even if they want to because of their jobs, there are disgusting policies trying to ban wearing masks, but please if you can. Keep masking. Masking works, masking saves lives.
This post got a bit longer than I wanted so below the cut is a non-exhaustive list of my Long COVID symptoms and some of my experiences as one of the "healthy young people" who got "unlucky". cw brief mention of suicidal ideation.
Welcome to the Thunderdome that is my body with Long COVID. Keep in mind these are just my experiences and symptoms, Long COVID can cause any range of symptoms at varying severities.
Dysautonomia: Exercise intolerance, Post-Exertional Malaise (PEM), fatigue, and heat intolerance. What do those things mean? Here's some specific examples. Absolutely terrible circulation I am so cold all the time but also, if I get a little too warm I will pass out. Eating hot food makes my heart rate spike, I sweat, my body feels heavy. Blood pooling and pins and needles in my feet when I walk. Don't even think about exercising past walking, it's impossible. I used to work out an hour a day 4 times a week and now walking up one flight of stairs makes my heart pound and I can't breathe. Can't take even just warm showers anymore or I will pass out. Heat rashes from being in the sun for 10 minutes.
Digestive issues: Honestly too many to name but: constant bloating, extreme nausea, constipation, slow motility, lack of appetite, just so much cramping and pain. I lost 18 pounds from Long COVID, as someone who was already considered underweight their entire life, and almost had to get a shunt put into my chest to deliver nutrients because I was nearly completely unable to eat. For the first 6 months of Long COVID, if I could manage 600 calories a day, that was a good day.
Histamine intolerance: Oh boy. My worst symptoms, I don't even know where to start with it. If you know Mast Cell Activation Syndrome (MCAS) it's very similar. I can only eat 19 foods. If i eat a single bite of something not on that list, it's 48 hours of absolute hell. Coughing, migraines, itchy eyes, such extreme nausea I cannot even describe it, panic/feeling of doom, racing heart rate, derealization, rash, uncontrollable muscle tremors. I only learned about histamine intolerance 5 months into having Long COVID so before that, I was experiencing these symptoms nearly every single day. Terrifying isn't even a strong enough word to describe how it felt to experience all this and have no idea what it was, how to stop it, or if it would ever stop. Really dark times.
Neurological issues: More of that derealization. Inability to concentrate. Anxiety. OCD-like symptoms such as thoughts getting "stuck" in my head, repeating 24/7 completely unable to stop them, genuinely felt like my brain had cracked open and I had lost my mind. Constant dizziness like I'm on a boat.
Sleep issues: I sleep like garbage. I have insomnia, I wake up dozens of times every night and every single time I sleep I have intensely vivid dreams. I can't sleep longer than 7 hours total no matter how exhausted I am. It is exhausting. I'm exhausted, I'm so so tired.
And finally. Just. Really intense suicidal ideation. My body, my health, my entire life has been stolen from me because someone else decided my life was worth less to them than wearing a mask or staying home if they feel sick. Before I got Long COVID, I was preparing to go to South Korea to teach English, then on to a PhD in neurolinguistics, I was supposed to meet my long distance partner and had already booked plane tickets when I got sick. All of that has been destroyed.
Most of us with Long COVID are stuck in a cycle of being extremely sick, then if you're lucky you'll slowly get better over months, just to get reinfected and go right back where you started or worse. Honestly, I'm not scared of dying from COVID. I'm scared of living for a long time, suffering from Long COVID the entire time. This isn't living.
I don't know how to end this now. I'm still fighting, I'm trying experimental treatments, I'm not giving up yet. I hope everyone reading this stays healthy and well.
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yandere-sins · 4 months
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Ivyyyyyyyy >.< you're the worsttttt(read: BEST) oh my god the thoughts im having abt dilic with a period kink rn. Gawd and he doesn't even know it's a period kink, he thinks it's absolutely normal to do nasty things with his girl while she's bleeding out and feels proud about it that HE can take her pain away
OMG continuing the diluc saga but yan dilic thinks darling's period is the perfect opportunity to finally put his hands on darling. He knows you're in pain so he promises, he's doing this for YOU not him (lies) he'll ease it in gently and make it feel good! Soon darling will forget all about those cramps bc of him him him! He doesnt need to feel as guilty bc he's helping you out.....right? OMG PLS write something abt thissss, it can be any yandere or oc but im going crazy after what u saiddd
Hehe, you're welcome! I began writing this as just a talk, but decided mid-way through to make it a scenario!
a/n: I wrote this before my hiatus and coming back to correct it, I found so many mistakes, it doesn't even feel like I wrote this smh... I did my best to polish it a bit since I can't see myself rewriting it in the future but if you find anything oddly worded just ignore it lol I wasn't myself back then :')
[Warning: Yandere, Sexual Content]
I can just see the cock cogs turning in this idiot's head as he racks his brain about how he can help you. Clearly, you're in pain, but no matter how many more times he calls a physician to have a look, they just keep waving off his concerns. It's normal, they say. You're healthy. That's what everyone has to go through.
And yet he sees you writhing and crying in pain—it's breaking his heart!
Pillow pressed to your stomach, tears in your eyes that you can't blink away fast enough before they fall. You're especially irritable, but it hurts him more when you whine and complain; Diluc wanting to help you now more than ever. He's already gone through the usual stuff, the imported water bottles from Snezhnaya and the chocolate from Fontaine. If you utter so much as a craving, he has the servants scramble to get it to you. Nothing is too expensive or too hard to get. You could have asked for the heads of your enemies, and Diluc would have brought them to you with ribbons and glitter if that had helped with your pains.
But alas, it doesn't.
It's been three days, and his nerves are raw, the bags under his eyes dark, and the burden of your health weighs heavily on Diluc. He can't see how things will ever get better. The other times you were on your period were conveniently skipped by business trips, so this is hitting him full force.
"Exercising might help," one of the maids suggests as he forces himself to consult someone more knowledgeable than him.
"Sometimes, my wife likes a little stimulation to alleviate the pain," a vintner chuckles, winking at Diluc as the word of his helplessness spreads. And suddenly, inappropriate ideas get stuck in his head, making him blush like a young lad in love.
»»———————— ♡ ————————««
Taking a deep breath, Diluc raised his hand to knock on your bedroom door. It was terribly late, the servants asleep and only the eery flickering of his candle guiding him through the night. Most likely, you were tugged in and fighting for your well-deserved sleep, so he hesitated, fist hanging in the air before slowly dropping it to his side.
What he was about to do was not only foolish but also filled him with the same burning in his body as using his vision did. He could feel the warmth sweep over him from his head to his toes, the latter curling in his shoes while most of the heat was throbbing between his legs, aching to connect with your warmth in a less-than-innocent way.
However, these feelings were nothing compared to the agony of the last few days.
If this was what he had to do to help you alleviate the pain, he would. If it was for you, Diluc would do anything in his power, whether to protect or help you. If he had to become a mere plaything so you'd be freed of the pain, then his concerns were a small sacrifice for all the good he was going to do.
Brushing his hair back, Diluc took a deep breath, reminding himself there was nothing wrong with wanting to help. If the method the vintner suggested worked, everyone would be happy. And if not, he'd keep searching for ways to free you of the pain. Turning the key in the door lock, he pulled it out before slowly entering your room, ensuring he could give you two the privacy needed in this situation.
To his surprise, you were still awake.
You made a half-hearted attempt at a greeting, but when you noticed it was him, you only scoffed, turning away. It hurt when you gave him the cold shoulder so callously, but Diluc knew you were the one suffering at that moment, not him. He could forgive you for being dismissive of him. Your bedside lamp was still on, and he could see you clutching a pillow to your belly, his own stomach cramping up with remorse, even though, logically, he knew it wasn't his fault. He loved you as you were, the good and bad days, your misery becoming his own much too easily these days.
Setting down the candle on your table, he walked over to you. But not before locking the door from the inside, just so he could give himself a few more seconds before his approach. Every step cost him a lot of discipline, being near you never having been this hard. Even when he looked confident around you, Diluc only ever felt weak. You made him vulnerable. Desperate. Longing for your love and affection was all he was allowed to do, so even just watching your chest rise and fall set him ablaze.
Pushing off his shoes, Diluc focused on the little space you left at the edge of the bed. It was the only space he could see that was reserved for him, as he didn't deserve to share your bed, in your opinion. Yet, when he climbed in, pulling the cover over himself and snaking his arm around your waist, he was enveloped in your scent, your hair tickling his skin as he breathed in deeply. Had he known that heaven was hiding so closely to him, he might not have waited so long to come and see you.
"What are you--" you complained, pushing yourself away from him. But Diluc's hand had already wandered beneath the pillow, feeling the hot water bottle you kept secured there, only to replace it with his palm. He was just as, if not hotter than anything the servants could procure for you; his body temperature naturally elevated from his vision. It wouldn't burn you, but with his hand hugging your lower belly, it was much more effective and fitting than any appliance might be.
And you fell for it, even if just for a split second.
For a moment, you leaned into the comfort of his palm, the pain vanishing in the blink of an eye. Diluc even caught you sighing briefly before you came to your senses, jolting and pushing away from him, only to get stuck inside the blanket and pressed up against him. Diluc couldn't help but grin, having read your actions before they even occurred to you, but of course, this was a serious matter, so he quickly composed himself.
"H-Hey!" you yelled as his hand drifted lower, his face burying into the nape of your neck. He wasn't there to dilly-dally but to be of service. To help you in your time of need. By the time Diluc pressed his lips to your skin and his fingers between your legs, you understood his intentions as well, perhaps misinterpreted, but clear as day.
He was going to fuck the pain away. 
If exercise and stimulation helped others, maybe it would do the same for you. His fingers were met with warm slick, your body flinching when he moved over your clit. Perhaps his calloused hands weren't made for caressing and soft touches but for teasing and stimulating. Judging by how puffy your lower lips were, worked up from days of rubbing your legs together and your panties aggravating them mercilessly, you were in dire need of his help.
"Don't fight it. You're not alone in this," Diluc reassured you as you squirmed in his hold, biting back the salacious sounds of pleasure you were keeping from his ears. You were so mean, keeping every little taste of appreciation from Diluc, knowing how much it meant to him. But he'd endure. Even when your ass ground back against his cock, making it incredibly hard to not focus on his needs as well, he'd put you first in all of this.
When he slipped his pointer and middle finger towards your entrance, a tremor went through your body, a gasp slipping out from between your lips. Diluc never knew how easy it was to get inside another person, greeted warmly and happily by your hole clenching around his fingers.
His kisses became more fervent against your neck, teeth snapping out as he felt like he was losing himself in your scent and warmth. The pushes of his hips against your ass became faster, your cheeks fitting so well around his shaft. You yelled at him to stop, but he barely heard you through the sounds of your sloppy, wet cunt, blood mingling with eager juices to allow him more reach inside you. It was almost as if he could hear them beg for him to go deeper, which just wasn't possible with his knuckles in the way, no matter how much he tried.
Forgotten was the pain as pleasure raked its claws through both of you, and yet, Diluc still heard you whine and sob as he scissored his fingers through your inside. It wasn't enough. He opened his eyes he didn't know he had closed, staring at your expression curiously. All he saw was anger and disgust, your teeth bared and ready to snap, while he could feel your nails digging into his arm. And yet, when he found your eyes, he saw a very different version of events. Lust, desire, longing. You wanted more, and Diluc wouldn't refuse such a request.
Slipping a leg between yours, he pried them apart, spreading you open wide. You gasped, squirming and trying to cut off his access, but Diluc only had to lean back to steal your balance, your body reliant on his while he gained more space on your bed. The hardest part was freeing his cock from the restraint of his pants, the fabric soggy with both your juices as well as his own pre-cum pearling off the tip of his engorged cock.
Nothing could have prepared him for the feeling of your wet cunt greeting his eager cock. No imagining of this situation could have come close to the throbbing heat, your walls convulsing around his fingers in eager expectation. Diluc placed his tip against his fingers, planning to slip them out and take the opening to sink into you, but with how wet the combination of blood and juices was, he felt himself slipping away, kissing your clit instead.
And for the first time, you moaned.
It was the sound of angels and everything nice, and he drew his hips back, trying again to fill you with his cock, missing it just an inch. All good things are three, and when he finally plunged it deep inside your pussy, you weren't the only one yowling in pleasure. No matter what he had imagined his first time with you to be, nothing would ever top the mess he caused between your legs, his cock ready to burst as it pulsated violently inside your equally as ready cunt.
He could feel the waves of pleasure going through you, the shudders in your limbs as he began to slowly press forward, kissing the last few inches of his reach. You remained stiff as a plank, but when he pulled out halfway before sinking in deep again, you were unable to keep your mouth shut, an elongated moan making its way to Diluc's ears, letting him know it was the right thing after all.
Immediately, any hesitation fell off him as he dragged his cock out and sunk it back into you. Fingers retreated to your clit, continuing to slip off and assault the little knob over and over while your walls clenched around his shaft, making you feel every one of his throbs and ridges, the heat between you two almost scorching.
Part of him couldn't believe it worked. That he actually managed to help you with this trick. But he'd have been a liar if he said it wasn't a pleasure for him, too. Diluc could never have dreamed about your proficiency in driving him wild, from your hot, puffy pussy wrapping around him to the improper sounds he had never heard coming from your lips before. The blood kept you so wet and loud down there; it was like you were synching your moans with your pussy, sloppy as they were.
It couldn't have been better, a shudder going through you from head to toe, your feet curling as you gurgled. Diluc wrapped his free arm around your throat, pulling you against him and burying his face in your shoulder as you came hard, juices leaking out, red dripping on the clean sheets with the blanket long discarded.
You were gasping for air as he plunged right back into you, waiting but a mere few seconds of yours before pursuing his own orgasm. Selfishly, but unable to stop. Diluc was already too deep in it, quite literally, your orgasm making your inside tight around him, but it posed no challenge with how drenched you both were.
A strained groan escaped Diluc as he buckled, feeling the first squirts of cum shoot out of him before he drew back, popping out of your cunt and covering it in his cum. His tip got stuck on your clit, as his jizz ejected under the pressure of his orgasm, making you mewl as you were once again stimulated. It would be a mess to clean, but it had been worth it.
You two collapsed, spent and dirty, but Diluc slipped his palm back over your lower stomach, rubbing the collection of juices over your soft skin, leaving a red trail. Kissing the side of your head, he was trying to collect his breath and thoughts, barely able to think straight as the feelings of happiness and his relief kept him in a chokehold.
"Better?" he asked, his voice a blissful rumble as he pulled you firmer against him.
But all he was met with was a cold glare and tears in your eyes. "I-I'm sorry," he stuttered instinctively, immediately feeling bad. What had he done to upset you again? Your teeth were biting into your lip as if you were holding back a tirade of screaming, ready to explode.
His cock twitched between your legs, bloody and so, so wet.
"I'll make it better! I promise! I will definitely make it better," he tried to reassure you, dazed with pleasure as he was, unable to see the actual problem with all of this. Your body convulsed in shock as he pressed his tip upwards again, and you gasped loudly as he sunk his inches inside you. This time, he wouldn't fail to make you feel better. And until then, he'd keep going.
All night long, if he had to.
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wood-white-writer · 5 months
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"Didn't mean to make your heart Blue" || [5/...]
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“Where I'll be looking in their eyes when they're down, I'll be there on their side. I'm losing by their side.”
— Mitski, "Bet On Losing Dogs"
Pairing: Buggy the Clown (Live action) x F!Reader
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 6
Summary: You were an apprentice of Gol D. Roger’s crew in your youth, long before his eventual demise. Along with the Red-Haired Shanks and Buggy, you were a formidable trio; the embodiment of a new generation of pirates yet to come. But times changed, and so did you and your friends. 
It's been a few weeks since the events in Orange Town, and Luffy notices something that others do not. So, he decides to ask you.
Warnings: Canon typical violence, LA!Verse, No (fully bodied) Buggy this chapter, Luffy being the precious cinnamon we all love and must protect above all else, flashbacks about Shanks, past discussions, Luffy and Reader have a heart-to-heart.
A/N: I was initially going to write them going to the Baratie this chapter, but it became too long so next one for sho.
Taglist:@kurinhimenezu, @carpinchootaku, @ay0nha, @teh-vampire-bunny, @lokiscure, @internationalsuper-spy @detectivesparrow , @yuriwk, @notyuralycat, @angeli-fucking-cat, @machinema7k (If you want to be tagged for this story, just send me a message or leave a comment :))
You're sitting by the table in Party's bar, nursing a cold glass of rum against your cracked lips as you observe to the kid - Luffy - demonstrating his newfound Devil Fruit powers without any regard for poor Makino's furniture. 
You don't get him, at all. Then again, you don’t get kids. 
You've never thought of yourself as someone who easily got along with them ... or people in general. Shanks has always been the better-suited one for that kind of work. Whereas he is smiling and grinning at the kid’s mischief, you've barely offered him more than a glance at most.
Your crew has been positioned in Foosha village for the better part of the month, stacking up on resources and food in preparation for your next job. Incidentally, the Red-Haired Pirates also happened to be in town for similar excursions. You rarely see Shanks nowadays since you parted ways several years ago, but whenever you happen to come across one another, you share a drink on his tab.
While your crew is around and about, replenishing their strength and vigor for the work to come, you're content with just sitting here at your leisure. When you're not plundering or fighting or attacking Marine bases, you can't find it in yourself to do much of anything anymore. 
Nothing adds any purpose to your life save for what keeps you fed and clothed, which in the life of a pirate, simply means pirating.
"I've heard you had good fortune on your latest heist," Shanks says from where he's sitting opposite of you. "For your efforts, the Marines have granted you among the highest bounties in all of the East-Blue."
You hum noncommittally in response, not offering much to the conversation in terms of merriment. "The quality of the Marines has been in decline. It says more about their effort, or lack thereof, than mine."
"Do you know what they call you nowadays?"
"They call me a lot of names, you got to be more specific."
"'Cross-Hairs, the Beast of the East'. It's got a certain ring to it, don't you think?"
"Sure."
Shanks smiles the kind way he always does. Always has done.
"Gum-Gum Pistol!" 
The sound of yet another chair breaking has you rolling your eyes without even looking, and poor Makino ages ten years in seconds across the bar counter. 
"Luffy!"
"Sorry!"
Shanks laughs heartedly at the display, only to cut it short upon noticing Makino's even glare sent his way from across the bar. 
"You were careless," you state matter-of-factly and take another gulp from your drink. "You should've kept the fruit hidden more securely."
"Now, in my defense, I didn't think the lad would searching through my loot."
"Well, you should've." You slam your glass down, strong enough to leave a dent in the wooden surface. "What kind of captain leaves his loot undefended and unsupervised? Especially when it contains a Devil Fruit?"
Shanks doesn't argue with your statement and settles with taking a gulp of his own drink, letting your words simmer in his head. "You're right, I should've been more observant. Now, it'll be more difficult for him to achieve his dream."
"His dream? Of what? Becoming the King of the Pirates?" Try as you might, there's no suppressing the snort that escapes through your nose. "There's only ever been one King, and we all saw what happened to him. What do you think is going to happen to a kid who can't even swim?"
"Oh, come off it!" He gives you a playful nudge to the rib, which you reciprocate with a glare. He remains undeterred. "You mean to tell me you've never thought about finding the One Piece? Not even once?"
"I have no interest in whatever plunder Gol D. left behind." 
"Then, what does interest you?" He rests his elbow on the edge of the table and leans over to your side. "What is your dream?"
You grit your teeth under your lips, a flash of blue circulating in your head. "Dreams are for fools and children," you point your head to where Luffy is currently sitting, trying to put the chair back together with a half-empty tube of glue and little luck. 
"Come on, I know you better than that. Surely there's something in this world you want more than anything?"
"What I want is ..." You have half a mind to tell him the truth, whereas the other half wants to push the idea further down to the bottom of your chest. "Is another bottle of rum."
You raise your arm to Makino to gesture for another one, but Shanks is quick to lower it with a gentle shove of his arm. You flash him a scowl and brush off his hand, but unlike your crew or anyone else, he's not afraid.
"The point which I'm trying to make before you're completely pissed," he starts. "Is that no matter how much opposition one faces, it's that dreams are never out of reach if you have the will to reach for them."
He inclines his head over your shoulder, and you turn around to see Luffy successfully putting the chair back together. You don't know how he did it - it looked pretty busted minutes ago - but there it is, wholly intact.
And when the boy smiles, it's so vibrant and full of joy that it's almost blinding. He proudly runs over and shows the repaired chair to Makino, who proceeds to pat his head and hand him a plate of food.
"See?" Shanks grins. "Nothing is impossible."
"You can hardly consider putting a chair back together the same as achieving an impossible goal."
He shrugs. "Maybe not, but you won't know unless you try. All it takes is a little spirit."
You watch Shanks for a couple of minutes in silence, processing his mythic words, then shift your attention over to Luffy who's preoccupied with shoving an unholy amount of food into his mouth. If this is to become the future King of the Pirates one day, then it'll be an interesting future indeed.
"A little spirit, huh?" 
— — —
You're sad.
Luffy first notices it when you leave Orange Town, and it lingers throughout your voyage. 
For as long as he's known you, you've always been a person of relatively few words; never speaking unless you feel the situation requires it, and only acting when necessary. Even following the Kuro situation™, getting the Going Merry, and adding Usopp to his crew, he can tell that you're not all there anymore.
Not to be mistaken, you're not conspicuous with the way you behave. You still act like usual, talk like usual, however little, and commit yourself to your work on the ship, almost to an excessive extent. 
All in all, nothing’s changed about you. However, he’s gotten used to your face and general lack of expression most of the time, and though it doesn't seem to alter, he still catches onto the fact that you're sad. 
"Hey," he asks the group and props himself in the kitchen, legs crossed atop his seat. "Do you think she's any different?"
"Who? Your friend?" Nami asks, raising an eyebrow. "How so?"
"Well, I think she's sad."
"Doesn't look any different to me," Zoro supplies while polishing his swords on the table. 
Usopp's in the middle of munching a piece of loaf, and answers with his mouth still halfway occupied. "Dunno how she usually is, but she's kinda terrifying if you ask me."
"No, she's not," Luffy dismisses lightly. 
"What's her position on the ship, anyhow? How'd you come across her?"
"She's always been with me," Luffy answers without any thought. "And she’s a good fighter.”
Zoro — to everyone’s surprise — nods his head to this in concurrence.
Their Captain claps his hands together to get the subject back on track. "But anyway, I just think she seems kind of down now."
"How can you even tell? With eyes like these, —” Usopp puts both of his index fingers at the crow’s feet of his eyes and draws them back to imitate yours. It’s borderline shameful, truth be told. “— I can’t tell for shit what she’s feeling or thinking.”
“I just can.” Luffy shrugs.
“Has she said anything?” Nami asks. “Anything to make you ask?”
“No, not really.” He heaves a sigh and props his hand under his chin, contemplating. “But she's been different since we left Orange Town.”
"If you ask me," Zoro speaks up. "You should ask her about her relationship with that fucking clown."
"Who? Boogie?"
"Buggy," Nami corrects. "Didn't you notice that at the end? They have a history, it's obvious. They know each other, and I don't know what pirate customs are like nowadays, but I doubt you'd touch the face of an enemy unless there was something going on. Has she said anything about it?"
Luffy shakes his head. “No... but then again, she never does tell me much about anything unless I ask.”
The tangerine-haired girl blinks as if the answer to this whole predicament is obvious. She quickly comes to realize that, to Luffy, it’s not.
“So…” she prompts slowly.
“So…?”
She rolls her eyes at his inability to catch her drift. “Go ask her.”
It’s like the thought never even crossed Luffy’s mind in the first place because truth be told, it hasn’t. He lights up like a candlestick on the spot. “Yeah, I should just ask her!”
“Ask me what?”
The members of the Straw Hat pirates (save for Zoro) withdraw in various unique positions, having not heard you make your entrance before you speak. 
You’re standing in the doorway to the kitchen, eyebrow slightly quirked at the Baroque-esque scene in front of you. Deciding not to address the display, you simply ask, “Anything I should know about, Captain Luffy?”
Usopp doesn’t even dare to answer, because he knows you sure as hell don’t see him as a captain in general, much less your captain. He swears he notices you briefly look in his direction at the mention of the title, and a shiver runs across his skin. Like static electricity in the air.
“Oh, yeah,” Luffy turns to you, not an ounce of fear in his eyes as he pops the question. “Are you sad?”
You blink once, then twice, like the inquiry on its own is of unfathomable origins to you. “Do I look sad?”
The boy in the straw hat nods. “I think you do.”
“Then I’m not.” It’s not only an answer, but also a sentence that marks this subject as finished on your part. One that does not permit any subsequent additions.
You incline your head to the deck above. “We’re going to have company soon, likely Marines, and they seem to be in supply of heavy fire this time.”
———
The situation with the aforementioned opponents temporarily distracts the crew, yet Luffy maintains a close eye on you, taking note of anything that can point him to the source of the unknown problem. You talk relatively little with the other crew members, but you seem to have developed an amicable enough relationship with them compared to when you first met. 
Before, you could care less about getting to know them. Now, you’re actively going out of your way to ask Nami about her cartographic skills, even giving her tips for additions to her geographical detailing. You provide Zoro pointers on self-developed defensive techniques and ways to paralyze opponents in certain spots (which he seems appreciative of).
You even give Usopp a short nod when he tells you one of his fantastical stories, even knowing that they’re full of shit.
Luffy’s happy, but he still sees that you are not.
It’s all in your eyes. They’re hollow somehow, like the end of a barrel. He doesn’t know how he knows, only that he knows, and he’s known for a good while now.
So, that night, Luffy finds you in the kitchen by the windows, absentmindedly snacking on a red apple while you gaze into the dark nothingness outside. He also discovers that he’s subconsciously become quite observant of your habits as of late. 
For example, you specifically pick red apples above any other color when they happen to dock someplace, not even paying any mind to the green or yellow ones. Just the red ones.
“Hey,” he positions himself next to you on the bench, a piece of loaf tight in his hand. “Why are you sad?”
You turn your head just a fraction to the side to look at him, not annoyed, but not appreciative of the focus he’s settled on as of late. "Shouldn't I be asking you that? The Vice-Admiral looks a little weary as of late, after all. Are you sad about it?"
"Nope."
“So why do you insist that I’m sad?”
“Because you are,” he states like it’s obvious.
You huff humorously and return your attention to the window that supplies no real view. “How can you tell?”
“I just can.” He takes a generous bite of his food and continues talking, oblivious to the crumbles that fall while doing so. “When I’m sad, I—”
“Eat?”
“Well, yeah.” He swallows the bite down. “But I also like to talk about it with someone I trust. Shanks used to say that true friends are the kind of people you can share your heart with and not get hurt.”
This annoys you, that much he can tell. A nail digs into the apple you’re holding, leaving a crescent-shaped indent on the red skin. “Shanks said many things, and not all of it's true.”
This doesn’t deter him from pressing on the matter. “If you keep all the hurt inside, it’s going to turn bad. You know, Makino said that if you leave a piece of ham in the fridge too long, it’ll get sour and people can’t eat it.”
“Only you could find a way to compare this sort of thing to food.” You withdraw your finger from the apple and end up leaving it alone altogether. A minute or ten of silence waves between you, laced with unspoken questions and denied answers. “Tell me, Luffy, just how much did Shanks tell you about his past?”
He thinks for a moment, mimicking your movements by putting his loaf aside. “Just about his adventures with the Red-Haired Pirates, and a little about the time you served with him. Is it true you were strong enough to throw a three-hundred-pound man to the ground when you were thirteen?”
He swears it’s a snort that he catches leaving your throat, but it’s hard to differentiate it from your more-than-usual scoffs. “He exaggerated.”
“Really?”
“The man was two-fifty, at most.”
Luffy grins with genuine admiration, so much so that your face tilts back slightly, being overwhelmed by the mere brightness that is him. “Wow! You must’ve been quite a beast when you were a kid!”
He notices it again, the sadness that latches onto your eyes like insects to sour meat. Whatever brief smile adorned your lips moments ago disappears like it was never there at all. Thinking he said something wrong, Luffy prepares to apologize when you speak again.
Your voice is soft yet faint like you’re afraid speaking too loudly will make something bad happen. “It wasn’t just me and Shanks, back then, you know.”
The Captain of the Straw Hats thinks it’s almost unnatural of you to be this demure, but he doesn’t interrupt you.
“Buggy was there, too. It was the three of us, together.”
“Oh, yeah.” He remembers it now. “He did mention that in Orange Town. You served the same crew.”
“… He did, did he?”
“He said you and Shanks betrayed him, but I didn’t believe him.” Luffy knows you and has known you for longer than he’s known a lot of people in his life. You’re one of the few permanent people he’s had, and he knows with a certainty that you’re not the kind of person who leaves anyone behind, not without reason. 
Even if you did have a reason for leaving Buggy, it must have been a good one.
Your mouth opens and shuts several times in the span of a minute like you’re hesitating to talk about the past. You’ve never been one to talk about it, except to share some details about your time as captain, and even that was limited to the bare minimum.
Still, Luffy, being in no hurry for you to reach an answer, waits patiently by your side until you do decide to talk about it.
Talk about what he believes is the reason for your sadness.
“We were close back in the days,” you begin slowly. “Me, him, and Shanks. It was us against the rest of the world, and we were going to sail together to the end of the seas one day. It was our dream.”
“Then, what happened?”
You put your palm over both your eyes and rest your elbow on the window frame, heaving a sigh that resembles someone who’s spent too much of their life working and working and working without catching any breaks. Pure, simple exhaustion weighs you down, Luffy can tell. 
When you speak next, you sound tired too, and perhaps a little strained. He can’t see your eyes, and so, he can’t truthfully tell what you’re thinking now. “The thing is, I don’t know what happened. All I know is that he decided he didn’t want to stick around.” You breathe through your nostrils. “Our captain was gone, and so was the crew, but we three were still together, and I thought we were going to stay together.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No … We didn’t. I don’t know what happened, but one day when I was talking with Shanks about what to do next, Buggy came in, and it … He looked at me like … Like he hated me.” You exhale. “He did hate me, and I don’t know what it was I did, but he practically told me that we were done … And then he left. I never saw him again, up until Orange Town.”
Luffy doesn’t require your eyes this time to tell that you’re sad now because you are. You’re so sad that it’s destroying you from the inside, and even that is an understatement on its own. There are no tears trickling down your cheeks, no quivers or thickness to your voice, no nothing to base his assumptions on, but he knows.
He stays silent for a short while, doing nothing but look at you. You’re one of the strongest people he knows. He’s seen you fight; seen the strength you possess, the fire in your eyes. You’ve stayed with him ever since Shanks left Foosha Village, you’ve looked after him from the sidelines when you thought no one was watching. 
You’ve been with him throughout everything, and seeing you like this makes him feel blue on your behalf. You don’t express it yourself – you never do. You carry your weight with the same kind of strength you always do, never letting anyone see you beyond just that, and sometimes, he wonders if you’re lonely because of it. 
At least, now he knows why you’re so sad. You’re heartbroken.
He’s never been acquainted with the feeling himself, has never felt any particular inclination toward it, but he can tell it’s your heart that’s hurting now, and it’s not as easy to heal as that cuts he received on his chest from the butler.
His hat seems to itch the harder he thinks about it, as if there’s something digging at his scalp through his hat. He thought Nami patched it up for him. He tries to scratch at it, but for some reason, it doesn’t cease. Maybe he’s got lice? 
He ignores it. “It’s weird. Bunky seems to think you were the one who left him for Shanks.”
“I didn’t.”
“I know. You’re not that kind of person.” He says it so easily, without a smidgen of doubt or hesitation. You look at him through your peripheral vision, and your eyes slightly widen at his statement. “But, do you know what happened between them? Shanks and Bonky, I mean?”
“No, I don’t.” You admit with a shake of your head. You’ve tried to figure it out for years, and at some point, you decided to give up. “Shanks never told me, but whatever it was, it was enough for the stupid clown to leave for… He chose a childish rivalry over me.”
“Then, there you have it. It’s all just a big misunderstanding, so why don’t you just tell him if you meet him again?”
“You seem awfully defensive of the guy who destroyed an entire village and almost drowned you.”
“Yeah, but talking about him seems to make you happy.”
You freeze for a bit, snort, and turn your back to the window frame, leaning back and crossing your arms across your chest in silent resignation. “I tried to explain things to him back in Orange Town, and a fat load of good that did. Like I said, he hates me, and he’s sure as hell not my favorite person at the moment. If we do meet again, it likely won’t end any better than it back in Orange Town.”
“You know, –” Luffy takes another bite of his bread. “It didn’t sound like he hated you.”
“Hmm?” You raise an eyebrow, halfway curious and halfway skeptical. 
“He still remembers that you like red apples and that you hide knives in your shoes. Is that true?”
You raise both your eyebrows and look at Luffy like he’s just grown a second head. Without a word, you pull your left foot up until it rests on the bench, and withdraw not one or two knives, but four. Small and subtle, hardly enough to turn any heads, but in a flash, you throw it across the kitchen until it lands on a specific spot on the opposite wall. 
Bull’s eye.
“We used to have knife-throwing competitions,” you reminisce idly, staring at the knife lodged deep into the wall. “I was good, but Buggy was better.” Your lip tilts up an inch or two. “We made bets, and whoever lost would have to steal a bottle of whatever liquor we happened to find in the next town we docked at.”
“Oh?”
“I ended up snatching quite a lot of bottles, but once every blue moon, he would have to snatch one instead.” You smile. It’s an actual, genuine, honest smile this time, and Luffy can’t help but marvel at the sight. It’s a rare thing for you to smile like you’re doing now. It’s usually brief or sarcastic and never seems to reach your eyes. 
This one does.
He thinks you look pretty when you smile. It’s your smile, and it’s so warm that he wishes you could do it more often. He tells you as much, and a red color falls over your cheek. You promptly turn your face to the other side to save face, and it makes Luffy think.
When he thinks about his dream of becoming King of the Pirates, he can’t stop himself from smiling ear to ear. So, that begs the question: “What is your dream?” 
What makes you smile?
“My dream …” You reach for your apple and hold it against your face, the uneaten side of it shining against your face. “Is unattainable.
“I don’t think it is,” Luffy says without missing a beat and takes your hand in his, determined to make you see that. “I think that no matter how much stands against us, dreams are never impossible if you have the will to reach for them. All it takes is a little spirit.”
He doesn’t know where those words come from, but he’s heard them from someplace, and judging by your staggered reaction, you’ve heard them too. 
“A little spirit, huh?”
“Exactly! So, please tell me, what’s your dream?”
You look straight ahead into the room, resting your elbows back on the window frame without a word. He thinks you’re about to decline his question or ignore it altogether. However, he’s surprised to hear you actually answer this time, truthfully too.
“My dream was to sail the seas with him again.”
Suddenly, the itchiness on his head stops, and it stays that way.
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batwritings · 3 months
Note
Hii, I hope you're doing well! Can I please ask for headcannons for the brothers and dateables (if not everyone, you can choose, but please write for Lucifer, mammon and barbatos) would react if MC offers to put chapstick on their lips.
I know it's a strange ask, but imagine this scenario: It's gotten really cold suddenly (in? On? At?) the devildom and MC notices said character has chapped lips and seems very uncomfortable with it. She offers them her (can be gn!reader but I'm using she/her for better explaining) chapstick and they deny, but she insistist in putting on them, and they feel giddy because she's caring so softly for them 😭😭😭
I in the vibe of soft casual love, stay warm and hydrated 🫶🩷🩷🩷🩷
I don't think this is strange at all! Soft caring actions like that are honestly cute as fuck to me. Enjoy!~
Lucifer The absolute quickest to deny you. The great and powerful Lucifer? Receiving a smidgen of help??? The greatest travesty in all the realms, clearly. But bat your eyes and maybe bring him some Demonus and he might crack. Once you get it on, he didn't realize just how badly his lips were chapped. You'll be offered a small thanks, and a promise of something more substantial for a reward once he has more free time.
Mammon How could the cold affect the great Mammon so much? He simply didn't believe you at first. Fun fact, he knew damn well his lips were chapped as fuck. He just really didn't want to admit he needed the help. Simply subdue him with a kiss after putting on the chap stick and he'll be a puddle of grimm in your hands.
Leviathan <Insert MC doing the inhale "BOI" meme here> Being a shut-in means Levi doesn't exactly get out into the cold much. Therefor, he's a little more susceptible to the effects of the cold than his brothers. One trip to get a new Ruri-chan figurine and he's got chapped lips for days. Thankfully he has you to thoughtfully apply chapstick to his lips which leaves him with a persistent blush every time the two of you cross paths.
Satan Oh? It honestly hadn't crossed his mind. While he's no Asmo, Satan does take pretty good care of himself. He's actually the most lenient of the brothers in letting you help. If this were the Nightbringer universe, he's fight you a bit more. Yet the wrestle session would be a nice release for his anger, even if he couldn't go full force on you. He'd thank you by letting you put the chapstick on, blushing in denial of enjoying the attention.
Asmodeus Asmo, sweetheart, darling, you can't use lip gloss as chapstick, I'm sorry. And that'll be his excuse, mark my words! You have to explain to him that sadly, most gloss doesn't cover the chapping and he'll be more than amenable to let you put it on him. In true Asmo-chan fashion, of course he'll need to test it on you, just to be sure. A reward for helping him always look beautiful.
Beelzebub This man's gonna try to eat the chapstick, and no, you cannot convince me otherwise. You know how people see a big animal and go "if not friend, why friend shaped"? Beel, sweet himbo lad that he is will legit ask you, "if not food, why food smelling?". Did you have to reapply it multiple times because he kept licking it off? Yes. Did he complain to you every time that it didn't taste nearly as good as it smelled? Also yes. Did he learn his lesson? Nope!
Belphegor He spends ONE (1) NIGHT up in the observatory and ends up with chapped lips. It's rather annoying to him, and he genuinely doesn't hear you the first few times when you offer to put chapstick on for him. Belphie will deny it at first purely on the basis of "I'm not a little kid just because I'm the youngest". Just wait til he gets too tired to fight you on it and you'll get a mumbled little "thank you" before becoming his favorite pillow. Hope you have nothing to do for the next few hours.
Solomon Unsurprisingly enough, it wasn't the cold that got him! It was a spell gone wrong in trying to make a chapstick that would never let your lips chap again. Solomon sighs very defeatedly and sits back with a pout as he lets you put the balm on his lips. For practice purposes, he has you sit down and look over the ingredients to see where he went wrong. May or may not purposefully mess it up again to have you so close again.
Simeon You can't tell me this man wouldn't absentmindedly pick at the chapped parts of his lips. He can't be perfect forever ya'll, he's gotta be a little weird like the rest of us. (/j) You actually catch him in the act which makes Simeon fluster and admit to forgetting his chapstick in his room. His denial of attention and care for you is half-hearted and he very quickly crumbles at the chance to be so close to you. Maybe he'll have to forget his chapstick more often.
Barbatos This man is far too busy to realize his lips were chapped. It was one of those rare instances that you two crossed paths that you noticed and offered to put some on for him. In another rare instance, you notice Barbatos blush slightly because he didn't realize he'd looked so out of sorts. He had meetings with Lord Diavolo later that day as well, so yes! Please! Quickly! You make sure to add a generous amount in the hopes that it would last him through his meetings.
Diavolo His lips were chapped? Truly? It's only then that the demon lord to be realizes how absolutely flooded he'd been and that Barbatos had even told him about that earlier in the day. When you offer, Diavolo tries to politely decline, asking you not to waste what you have on him. It only takes a few minutes of remembering how busy he'll be and how this is absolutely a chance to know even a smidgen more info about you that he relents and lets you apply it gingerly to his lips.
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phantom-ares0 · 5 months
Note
Thinking about the scenario where secret agent reader (so like CIA or MI6 and things like that) meets Johnny at a bar and scores. Drinks and talking and dancing, until Soap suggests you go back to his place. Once there, before things get steamy, you excuse yourself to the bathroom to freshen up and get ready, but it's actually to stash away your hidden weapons you carry with yourself all the time. Only, when you figure out a good spot, you already find weapons there already.
And it clicks. How he gets dodgy when work comes up, how his dance moves vaguely resemble basic fighting regiments, etc... Seems theres more to the man than just his drawing hobby.
Bringing Work home.
Pairing: Soap x M! Reader
Word count: 1k
Content: You go to a bar to unwind, and run into another military special forces operative. Small world, huh? Drinking, making out, being drunk, one-night stands, guns, kinda leading to smut but no actually fuckin, not a beta read so expect mistakes.
Notes: Im sorry this took me a while, but I enjoyed writing this.
∥ CoD M.List ||
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As special forces, you rarely got time off or to yourself. So when you were finally blessed with downtime, you decided to take it and unwind. That meant going down to a local bar and downing as many drinks as you could, having a one-night stand then sleeping off the rest of your time off before going back to your duties. 
The pub was bustling, as it was a weekend night. And most of the patrons were already drunk, Luckily for you. It was loud, with a local band playing music so loud the building shook every time the singer hit a high note. The crowd was eating it up, you, however, felt like you were in hell. That was until you got a few pints into your system. You were buzzed enough to enjoy the overwhelming atmosphere. 
You were sitting and looking pretty at the bar, nursing your current drink. That was until someone nudges into your back. You jump and whip your head around to see a guy with a mohawk, face flushed and sluggish movements holding his hands up. “Sorry Lad! My bad.” The guy chuckles as he plants it next to you on the bar. 
“It's all good, you gave me quite the jump though.” You chuckle back, loosening up. The guy wasnt half bad looking, Maybe a bit rough around the edges but clean and well-mannered, which can't be said for most of the men in the building. 
“Yeah, my bad. Can I buy you a drink to say sorry?” He smirks lazily as he pulls his wallet out of his pocket, already flagging down the bartender. 
You decide to shoot your shot, it's what you can for anyway, so why not get a free drink out of it? “Sure, as long as you keep me company.” 
The guy looks back at you, that stupid smirk still on his face, “ Of course! Wouldn't leave a handsome lad like yourself on your own.” 
You put a hand in front of your face, laughing to yourself, “I'm y/n.” You call over the music. 
“Im Johnny!” He calls back, “But my friends call me soap.” He adds, just as the bartender comes over. He passes over the pounds and orders the same thing you both already had before turning back to you. 
“Soap? What kinda name is Soap?” You quick a brow at him as you quickly finish off the drink you had. 
Soap chuckled bashfully, putting a hand behind his head, “Well, it's kinda a long, boring story involving work. And I dont wanna bore you, so tell me about yourself!” His words irked you, but you couldn't judge, you weren't a big fan of talking about your work either, even though you weren't allowed to talk about it with civilians full stop. But you decided to go on. You end up chatting about life and random things, Soap nodding align or commencing occasionally, even telling his own few stories as the two of you work your way through multiple more pints. It even got to the point where Soap had his phone out, showing you drawings he had done before. Impressive work, you had to admit. 
You both ended up drunk, like dancing in front of the band with the crowd that had developed there. Though clearly, you learned as drunk as Soap, you could still remember how precise his dance moves were, and how they almost resembled basic hand-to-hand combat moves. You had initaly brushed off the thought, thinking work was just getting to you. 
After finishing your drinks, he invited you back to his place. And in the drunken state you were, it was a definitive yes. Luckily Soap didn't live too far from the pub, so he practically dragged you outside and held your hand all the way home. You were both quite the ruckus on the empty streets, laughing loudly and benign those obnoxious drinks the neighbors would talk about in the morning. 
Even during the walk was Soap handsy, even stopping occasionally to make out lean up against random objects. The cold air was slowly sobering you up, so as you gradually got back to soap's place, the alcohol was wearing off. You could only hope there were more drinks at his place. 
As you entered his apartment, the atmosphere changed from a lively bar to a more intimate setting. It was a fight just to get to his couch, lips locked and hands all over one another. 
As your backside hits the chair arm, you suddenly remember the gun hidden in your person. That would be a hell of a thing to see when stripping your one-night stand. You decided it better to stash it away and get it later rather than struggle with hiding it later. 
 You pull away from the kiss, holding your hands to the sides of his dopy-looking face. “Im gonna go freshen up, dont hold up.” You coo, slipping under his arm and trailing off to where the bathroom was, which you saw when you walked in due to the door benignly wide open. 
“There's no window in there, so dont try and escape!” Soap called after you, slurred as he flops down onto the sofa, waiting for you. 
You could hear his belt rustling as you close the door, making sure to lock it behind you. You quickly whip out your pistol and move to the sink, opening the cupboard below it to stash it against the top of that cupboard and pick it up when you leave in the morning after using the bathroom.
A great plan in hindsight, until your knuckles brush something already under there. You crouch down to see what it was, a pistol was already set there. You couldn't help your jaw dropping at the sight. No wonder he avoided talking about work, and how he moved. It made you short circuit for a moment, your brain not fully working at that moment in time. You assumed he was SAS, considering he was British and special forces. 
Work had followed you home, somehow. But you decided to dismiss it and bring it up in the morning. You stash your gun next to his and go back out to Soap to enjoy your evening. The gun and work were an issue for the morning you.
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The morning after
"Dude, ur SAS?"
"Uh, yeah? how'd you know?"
"Your gun is stashed where I put mine..."
"UR SPECIAL FORCES TOO?"
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wheeboo · 3 months
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seventeen as games they would play on roblox
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FEATURING. seventeen (ot13) GENRE. headcanons, crack WORD COUNT. 552 
notes: this is purely just for shits and giggles. ty @haecien for sparking the idea on discord and @yeonjuns-redhair for helping me LMAO. i was such a roblox nerd back then pls don't question me thank u. this game traumatized me fr.
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scoups - mm2/arsenal/phantom forces: bro would be such a try hard whenever he becomes murderer or sheriff in mm2. he would also own like all the damn legendary knives, guns, knife effects, prob has hella robux and connections to get all those, might also play obnoxious audios on his radio to assert dominance. arsenal and phantom forces is self-explainable since he's pretty good at fps games
jeonghan - brookhaven/free admin games: is definitely trolling and scaring people on brookhaven or any roleplay game lmfao. would pretend to be their child just for him to turn his avatar into the most terrifying monster ever and make people rage quit. he'd easily take over those games that grant free admin, literally everyone would be under his fingers
joshua - royale high: shua was hard since he doesn't rlly play video games? he would def not be into these competitive games. i can see him having fun dressing up his avatar in royale high for some reason. would prob lowkey be an annoying troll, or those rich ass mfs constantly showing off
jun - adopt me: self-explanatory. the top of his bucket list is to adopt all pets possible in the game. might even find ways to scam people out of their stuff (my cousin does this, don't be like her).
hoshi - jailbreak: he likes chaotic games. he brings chaos to the server. tries to also bribe woozi into playing with him so they can both be the Richest Lads in the server. either that or he absolutely sucks at playing the game and keeps getting arrested by the police.
wonwoo - tower of hell/dungeon quest/arsenal/doors: can't really decide on one. he's pretty versatile with his games but i think he mainly prefers battle strategy games and fighting games. would definitely complete a tower of hell obby in less than a minute fr. is probably on the leaderboard of dungeon quest and has all the legendary spells, armour, and weapons. he's also completely fine with anything horror
woozi - those anime sims n fighting games/death ball/robeats: personally i have never played any of those anime fighting games ever but he would def be the one to enjoy them the most. will def beat your ass in death ball with his gigantic double wielded swords. he'd also continuously get hella high scores on robeats
dk - work at a pizza place: no explanation needed. he is living his life as a cook and delivery person
mingyu - theme park tycoon/natural disaster survival: i found mingyu to be hard as well LMAO. i feel like he could make a bomb ass theme park in theme park tycoon tho. either that or he's getting freaked out over the blocky tsunami coming his way
minghao - bloxburg/royale high/those fashion games: ahh he's living his life designing his perfect dream home and definitely has all the gamepasses. has the best fashion in royale high. would definitely spend his robux to get VIP so he can get access to the Better clothes in those fashion games (fun fact: i'm banned on bloxburg cuz i'm just too damn good 😔)
seungkwan - pls donate/works in a group: has the prettiest booth in pls donate so he can get robux but is constantly arguing with the nine year olds who are begging for him to donate to them. might also be an MR/HR/SR at a group (don't work at roblox groups guys, i beg of you)
vernon - bee swam simulator: no thoughts, just vernon playing bee swarm simulator being the best thing ever
dino - speed run: constantly frustrated over each time he falls off the map. he never makes it to the end
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taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @phenomenalgirl9
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versegm · 6 months
Text
What the fuck is up with Mashmorgan
Someone on neocities asked me to explain the appeal of Mashmorgan in a single concise post. Well I did it lads you've got your single post. It's also 1500 words long but that's not my problem. A lot of it is stuff I've already said in scattered posts/fics, so if you follow me this will not be any news for you, but if you ever need to redirect someone to an explanation of this ship you can direct them to this post. Also fair warning this will be incomprehensible without knowledge of lb6. This is by design.
Anyways. Enjoy.
The most basic shit about Mashmorgan is: Mash and Morgan spent a long time together. So long that Mash starts considering herself a part of the Fairy Calendar over the Queen's calendar (see: Totrot having to remind her "you're not the only one who remained, you're the one who is going home! You were never meant to be here in the first place.") Furthermore, Mash and Tonelico didn't just hang out. They were good fucking friends! Tonelico trusted Mash enough to tell her that Tonelico is, in fact, a ball of rage and ressentment wrapped in a savior skin (which is a big deal considering Tonelico lies to Fucking Everyone about her true feelings on things.) It's important to note that the ONLY time Morgan ever smiles during the entire lostbelt is with Mash ("Sure! We did our best, didn't we?" while sending Mash home.)
Speaking of, the fact that Tonelico sent Mash back in the present at all is very telling of Tonelico's feelings for Mash. The excuse she gives Totrot is "well I wanna recruit Mash later," but that's very obviously bull; Tonelico's last conversation with Mash makes it very clear that Tonelico expects them to be enemies later on. Besides, how can you recruit someone you know for a fact you won't remember? Morgan has zero reasons to send Mash back to her own time. She knows she's shooting herself in the foot by doing that. She KNOWS that Mash will turn out to be an enemy. But she's sending Mash back anyways. Because it's the right thing to do? Because it wouldn't be fair otherwise, and Morgan values fairness above all? Because Tonelico failed to save Uther, but she could still help one friend on this bitch of an earth? You tell me.
Now that's our basis to read Mash and Tonelico as exes, or people who pined for one another, or just very close besties, whatever you want. Which means we've now a wonderfully tragic romance (or friendship if that's your thing, but I feel like romance makes it tasties) of two people who do love each other but cannot stand by the same side because of widely differing ideals. Adding to that the dramatic irony of Mash and Morgan never knowing each other at the same time- Tonelico knows who Mash is, Mash doesn't know who Tonelico is. Mash knows who Morgan is, Morgan doesn't know who Mash is.
Mash still holds Tonelico's memory close to her heart- Tonelico (the summonable one) has a line mentioning that though she has no idea who Mash is, Mash keeps looking at her with sadness. Furthermore, while Morgan changed a lot from her Tonelico days, Mash still knows the woman pretty well- when asked if she's willing to fight, she responds "well yeah I know the gal she won't give up without a fight."
Obviously, Morgan doesn't remember Mash. But she still holds the knight in high regards; in the Fairy Cup event, she mentions that "oh lol you guys had Mash with you no wonder you guys turned out fine." Additionally, when you barge in her throne room early lb6.2 to ask her about Mash, Morgan does not remember that name, but she does react to the description of Fairy Knight Galahad. She doesn't remember Mash, but even without her memories something still echoes in her about it.
So that's all our canon basis to go wild. What are the roads we can explore with this ship then?
For Tonelico/Mash, there is obviously a "doomed romance" angle. Whether they're lovers who can't go anywhere, or people pining unwilling to start something at all, the fact is: this romance is doomed, and they both know it. They're from different worlds and times. Mash going home implies Tonelico's failure. This love cannot change anything, but it mattered that it was here.
For Mash/Morgan in lb6, there's the "lovers to enemies" angle. As I said before, they're clearly both still fond of each other on some level. But that's not enough. They both stand on either side of that war, because they each want to protect different things. The agony! The pain! Delicious. Of course, the most tragic part of this is that Mash didn't even get to kill Morgan herself. All of this, and they never got the catharsis of battle at the end. (I should add that I'm a firm believer of the inherent eroticism of homicide.)
Less obvious, but an aspect of their dynamic that I find really interesting is that... Mash is someone who is constantly asked by various nonhuman people for understanding. Goetia, the Lion King, Beryl, all asked Mash to understand their pov and goals. Because Mash, as a homunculus, fundamentally stands at the edge between human and nonhuman. She's legitimately these people's best shot at being understood. But through this pattern, Morgan is noticeably the one person who never asks for understanding. She explains herself, but that's it. What she does ask of Mash, however, is to find a good reason to fight Morgan. Cuz Tonelico just endured 3000 years of the most senseless and brutal violence- she’s just fresh out witnessing her attempt to save Britain being destroyed on a whim. The only thing Tonelico asks is for their fight to actually have meaning for once. Don’t face me just because I’m mildly inconvenient to you. Face me because you are striving for your own star. That, I will respect, and should you succeed in defeating me- I will be fine with that. (Also because Morgan long gave up on being understood, so she's not even trying with Mash, which is why I think it fucks that despite Morgan being a fucking brick wall, Mash still manages to know this girl better than most.)
Post-lb6, on Mash's side, this ship is a case of "this girl I used to love changed a fuckton, but also She's Still Here." On Morgan's side it's "I do not know who you are, but my body does remember you and it's fucking weird." And both these things are haunted by the ghost of "Oh christ we fucking killed each other. We can never go back to who we used to be. How do we build a new relationship after All This Shit? What if she forgives me? What if she doesn't?"
Additionally. Morgan is someone who fundamentally believes herself to be evil. That's why she's always like "ohh I'm a wretched witch I do this because I'm selfish teehee." It's a Sakura behavior, she's rationalizing the bad shit happening to her as "well I was evil anyways so I deserve it." Veering into headcanon territory now, but I think Morgan would see Mash as her total opposite, someone who embodies the good in this world- she's fucking fairy knight Galahad, the purest of the round table. So it's also cool to explore Morgan thinking she's unlovable struggling to understand why Mash would be interested in her. Possibly worried about corrupting Mash too, historically things have never turned out well for people close to Morgan.
Ok this is all my thoughts that have actual canon ground. Now back to making shit up. I think Mash should get to be fucking deranged about Morgan. Mash has lost MANY people since the beginning of the story, but that trauma is shared with Guda. Morgan's however is her trauma and hers alone she ain't got no one to relate. I think it would be a great way to showcase her character development, from someone who struggled to understand Mozart's "yeah humans suck but that's why I love them!" to someone who can be incredibly Not Fucking Normal in her grief. AND that means you get neat Beryl parallels as well. Mash sees her own behavior as something reminiscent of Beryl's, and feeling SO bad about it, but what is she supposed to do? She's lost so much so fucking much can't she just have something to hold onto for once? Something more tangible than a memory? Anyways I think Mash should get to mishandle Morgan's corpse SO fucking bad.
Anyways. Say whatever about lb6, but Morgan did successfully save one thing in Fairy Britain. She did successfully save Fairy Knight Galahad.
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kaisfruit · 4 months
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junkrat x lucio wholesome hcs PLEEAASEEE PLEASE PLEASE 🙏🙏🙏
Boombox (Junkrat x Lucio) Wholesome HCs
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A/N: IK THIS SAYS ANON BUT THIS IS MY BFF YALL THX U FOR REQUESTING POOKIE ILY <333 also this just kinda turned into boombox hcs in general im srry qwq warnings: junkrat is his own warning that's it
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I'm just in love with them. I need to get over that first before I type ANYTHING
anyways-
Lucio staying up with Junkrat when Jamison is really into whatever he's working on at the moment
To be honest, seeing Lucio get tired makes him feel a bit bad and it ends with them both going to bed bc it's okay if Jamie is sleep deprived but it can't be his fault that Lucio is as well. That won't do at all!
And i see a lot of ppl being like "Lucio helps calm Jamie down <3"
BFFR
Lucio is an enabler.
Junkrat: BABE! WANNA SEE HOW MANY BOMBS IT TAKES FOR ME TO PASS OUT FROM SMOKE INHALATION? <3
Lucio: Hell yeah. Lemme get my phone
No one else is allowed to find the video funny tho
That's right. Lucio def notices how everyone in OW treats Jamie (idc im projecting here. WHY IS EVERYONE SO MEAN TO HIM IDC IF HE'S A CRIMINAL HE'S FUNNY)
DVa can maybe find it a bit funny, but that's cuz she gets BFF privileges
Lucio constantly hitting Junkrat with the "hold on, this song reminds me of you-"
Eventually he just makes a whole playlist
Junkrat has it blasting constantly in his workshop
That or he has every song by Lucio on shuffle
Now, Jamison's,,,talent,,, is a bit harder to show affection with
It took Lucio a long time to really grasp Jamie's love language, but now he knows that 99% of the time that Junk's bombs towards him are romantic
The other 1% are accidents and Lucio is the only person Junkrat apologizes to
He doesn't even do that for Roadhog, so this is a very rare honor
Junkrat is so on board with Lucio being a freedom fighter
"HELL YEAH! fuck the government! down with the enforcer! BLOW THEM UP!"
The enthusiasm is much appreciated, but Lucio does have to explain in detail what he's really fighting for
Junkrat's chaotic nature is just on board with anything
And, despite being the resident yapper of overwatch, he really does like listening to lucio telling him abt things he wasn't aware of while being in Australia
Lucio's telling him so ofc it has GOT to be important, yk?
Sorry this is all just such word vomit. They're my two mains and I just....love them both sm i cant
They're just such a chaotic duo together
Like yeah, Lucio is a pretty chill guy but god does Jamison bring out the worst in him sometimes. They're perfect for eachother
On the rare occasion, Lucio can get Junkrat to settle down long enough for cuddles <3 ofc the lad is still a bit twitchy but it helps him realize that maybe this isn't so bad
Lucio shows Junkrat a kind of love Jamison has never seen before and Junkrat helps Lucio learn that it's okay to lose his cool sometimes
They just compliment each other so well
TL;DR Lucio and Junkrat are so good for each other I will throw hands over this
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miloonepiece · 6 months
Note
Hello, this is my first time requesting, and I'm kinda nervous.
May I ask for request where Junkrat (from overwatch) would comfort genre neutral s/o who's having major pains in legs or in hands druing night and they can't sleep?
Hope you have good evening/day/morning=D
(English isn't my mother language so I apologize for any grammar mistakes)
|| I hope this works, and I hope you have a wonderful day (or so on) ALSO I'M SO SORRY FOR HOW LONG THIS TOOK ME TO WRITE :(
Featuring: Junkrat x GN!Reader Warnings: Angst, Comfort, SWEET OL' FLUFF! Not Proof Read, Prob Non-Canon
Junkrat was fast asleep next to you, you watched him sleeping peacefully wondering how in the world he did it. Go through so much, fighting, bombs, all of the sorts when you can't even go to sleep cause your hand is hurting. You looked down at your hand, cursing at it under your breath. "Damn you." You whispered in a hushed tone not wanting to wake up the sleeping beauty next to you. You were trying to use your other hand to press down in certain places of your hand, trying to make the pain release even just a little bit. But one wrong move and it felt like you had just ripped your hand in half, you breathing in aggressively through your teeth and your head flung back against the wall slamming into it and making a loud bang.
Junkrat was immediately awakened by the loud sound, his first reaction was to turn to you and place his arm around your waste. That's when the two of you made eye contact, your eyes were welling up and the water was screaming for freedom to fall down your cheeks. Junkrat noticed, he noticed everything about you. Though he may seem like an idiot he was not an idiot when it came to you, you were his everything. His motivation was to get up and continue the way he lived his life.
He sat himself up and he grabbed your face with his one existing hand, his thumb caressing your cheek. "What the matter love?" He asked in a hushed tone, trying to read your facial expression. "Nothin'." You spoke out, trying to move your head away from his hand not wanting to look him in the eyes as you felt tears falling down your cheeks. Junkrat knew you were lying, the way you grew distant and hid. He moved swiftly off the side of the bed, grabbing his metal arm and attaching it back to him so that he was able to grab your face with both hands.
His metal arm was cold against your cheek and it almost made you feel... relaxed. His metal arm gently pressed your cheek so that you would look at him, "Love, be honest." He spoke out, his voice was calmer and quieter than it usually was. It made your heart skip a few beats, "Just..." You stopped to clear your throat so you wouldn't break down into a sob fest. "My hand.. really hurts." You told him, showing him the hurt that was keeping you from sleeping peacefully next to him.
Junkrat frowned when you told him this, his eyes moved down to look at your hand before he used his other hand to grab it. He carefully brought it closer to his face and gave it a small peck, "I'll heal it with me magical kiss!" He called out, as he looked at you with his normal goofy smile. "I quite think hands are annoying." He stated, seeing as he was missing a whole arm and a finger from his other perfect arm. You laughed at him and his attempt to make you feel better.
You looked at him and watched as his eyes came back to meet with yours, "Do you need anythin'?" He asked, his face turning to more of a worry and loving expression. You shook your head, "No.. just... you" You requested of the blonde, "All I need is you." You said and you watched as his cheeks turned a bright pink before he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you down with him as he laid down.
"Well this lad is all yours~" He hummed happily, as he stared up at you. You two lay there for a moment staring lovingly into each other's eyes before you eventually leaned down to press a quick yet tender kiss. "I love you, Jamison." You say to him, his smile growing bigger and reaching ear to ear. "I love you too [Name], maybe even a lil' more." He winked at you causing you to giggle then relax your head on his chest.
The sound of his heartbeat was relaxing, the way it grew calmer as he slowly fell back asleep. Your eyes begin to threaten sleep as well, you take a moment to make sure that you are truly here and not dreaming before you allow your body to drift off to sleep.
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astrronomemes · 7 months
Text
TREASURE ISLAND: STARTERS
a collection of quotes, phrases, and sayings from the famous Robert Louis Stevenson novel, Treasure Island. change & alter as needed.
"If you keep on drinking rum, the world will soon be quit of a very dirty scoundrel!"
"We'll sit down, if you please, and talk square, like old shipmates."
"I have just, very much against my own will, dragged you head foremost out of the grave."
"[Name], you're the only one here that's worth anything. And you know I've always been good to you."
"Do you call that a head on your shoulders, or a blessed deadeye?!"
"You're a lad, you are, but you're as smart as paint."
"Better speak plain, I believe, even at the risk of offense."
"The secret has been told to the parrot."
"Sir, with no intention to take offense, I deny your right to put words into my mouth."
"I will do as you desire, but I think the worse of you."
"You'll find I do my duty."
"I'll have no favorites on my ship."
"All I say is, we're not home again, and I don't like this cruise."
"A trifle more of that man, and I shall explode!"
"You're never happy until you're drunk."
"I've a sick heart to sail with the likes of you!"
"You'll have your mouthful of rum tomorrow, and go hang!"
"Dead men don't bite."
"Every man on board has done his duty, alow and aloft, as I never ask to see it done better."
"He'd look remarkably well from a yardarm."
"We must go on, because we can't turn back."
"The best that I can say is not much. We must lay to, if you please, and keep a bright lookout."
"Rest his soul for a true seaman!"
"Long you've been a mate of mine, but you're a mate of mine no more."
"If I die like a dog, I'll die in my duty."
"Wherever a man is, says I, a man can do for himself."
"Well, I don't understand one word that you've been saying, but that's neither here nor there."
"If it's the only course we can lie, sir, we must even lie it."
"[Name], my man, you're going home."
"You're a good boy, or I'm mistook. But you're only a boy, all told."
"That man [name] is a better man than I am. And when I say that, it means a deal."
"Ten to one, this is a trick."
"If there's any treachery, it'll be on your side, and the Lord help you!"
"What is spoke to one is spoke to all."
"You've seen the last of me but musket-balls."
"In the name of heaven, I'll put a bullet in your back when next I meet you."
"I've come aboard to take possession of this ship, [name], and you'll please regard me as your captain until further notice."
"Do you take it as a dead man is dead for good, or do he come alive again?"
"You can kill the body, [name], but not the spirit. You must know that already."
"For thirty years, I've sailed the seas and seen good and bad, better and worse, fair weather and foul, provisions running out, knives going, and whatnot. Well, now, I tell you, I've never seen good come of goodness yet."
"One more step, [name], and I'll blow your brains out! Dead men don't bite, you know!"
"I've seen too many die since I fell in with you."
"I've had the top of this business from the start. I no more fear you than I fear a fly."
"Cross me, and you'll go where many a good man's gone before you."
"There's never a man who looked me between the eyes and seen a good day afterwards, [full name], you may lay to that."
"I'm captain here because I'm the best man by a long sea-mile."
"You won't fight as gentlemen of fortune should? Then, by thunder, you'll obey, and you may lay to it!"
"What I can do, that I'll do."
"Let 'em come, lad. Let 'em come. I've still a shot in my locker."
"We'll all swing and sundry for your bungling."
"Isn't he a hostage? Are we going to waste a hostage?"
"Lucky for you as I'm not a revengeful man."
"As you have brewed, so shall you drink, my boy."
"Every step, it's you that saves our lives. And do you suppose by any chance that we are going to let you lose yours? That would be a poor return, my boy."
"I'll give you a piece of advice: don't you be in any great hurry after that treasure."
"[Name], if I saved your life, you saved mine. And I'll not forget it."
"You and me must stick close, back to back, like, and we'll save our necks in spite of fate and fortune."
"I'm here to get the stuff, and I'll not be beat by man or devil."
"I never was feared of [name] in his life and, by the powers, I'll face him dead!"
"So you've changed sides again."
"[Name], I reckon I settled you."
"I did what I thought best for those who had stood by their duty. And if you were not one of those, whose fault was it?"
"You're a good boy in your line, [name], but I don't think you and me will go to sea again."
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ephemerasnape · 6 months
Text
Victor Rookwood Headcanons
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An ever-evolving list of my headcanons for Victor Rookwood. Some of these may seem obvious to you. Some may be controversial. Agree? Disagree? Let's not have any fighting amongst Daddy Rookwood's small-but-dedicated harem, please.
He is in his mid 40s if not older. I don't care what anyone says. I can't have Daddy Rookwood being younger than I am! Even if he is a fictional character from more than a century ago... No, I insist that he's comfortably older. Also, have you seen his face, ffs? Guy's got more lines than a villain monologue. (ETA: We decided he was 46 in 1890. Watch my video "How Old is Victor Rookwood?" for an explanation of our thought process!)
He is probably married with kids. It breaks my heart to say this, really. I do believe it to be the case. Better yet, he might be a widower. I'm going to try to convince myself of that. Don't worry - even if he's actively married, that won't stop him from fucking your brains out. I changed my mind. He is not married. Ain't no rang, ain't no thang. That said, he probably does have some little bastards running around. And he does not give a single fuck.
He is a ladies' man. I am making myself jealous here, but look at the guy and tell me he doesn't indulge.
On that note, he is decidedly-heterosexual. Sorry, lads.
He smokes a pipe. But he'll certainly have a good cigar as well.
His favorite color is purple. Duh.
He is not bald but even if he was he would still be one fine-ass bitch. The hat is hot and stays on during sex. (Some of you seem to think that Daddy wears a hat to make up for some deficiency in his hairline. I think that daddy wears the hat because it's imposing, stylish, and attractive. We are not the same.) Regarding the hairstyle, it would be a typical and respectable gentleman's hairstyle for the time period.
He only shaves about once a week, on an off-day. He keeps the raggedy facial hair on purpose. Thinks it adds to his roguish charm (it does!)
He isn't hands-on about the whole killing animals thing. He knows what his people do, and finds it distasteful, but sees it as a necessary evil. He values wealth and power above all else, including furry creatures. But he may even be known to stroke a cat from time to time while drinking firewhisky at the Hog's Head.
He considers Harlow a useful idiot, and lets him be the one to get his hands dirty. For the most part.
He didn't mean to curse Anne. He isn't even sure of what exactly he did - he just panicked. But no, he's not too troubled about it. (Clarification: he should have killed her, not whatever it was he ended up doing.)
He despises playing second-fiddle to Ranrok, but he knows that whatever the goblin is after is too important to sit on the sidelines for.
He reads the Daily Prophet every morning.
He is not above taking what he wants sexually, but he prefers to seduce.
Sexually-dominant. Period.
He wears expensive cologne.
Definitely a Slytherin.
Oh and he's not dead :)
Anyone who's listened to my audios or read any of my fics knows he loves terms of endearment, namely: darling, little one, little girl, sweetheart, little witch, et cetera. He loves to use these while doing unspeakable things to you. 🥵🥵🥵
He does not appreciate "sloppy seconds." This is well-established in several of my audios.
He lives in a hotel - the most expensive one, probably.
He takes advantage of his employees.
He wears a belt. The belt is not visible in the game, but for our purposes, he needs a fucking belt. The belt is soooo important.
Believes "Might is Right."
Young Victor was extremely brutal when he took over the Rookwood Gang, kind of overdoing it in order to earn the respect and fear of his men. Over the ensuing decades, as he has become more comfortable in his position, he has mellowed out slightly. He will no longer gauge someone's eye out over a few missing galleons, but he still takes perceived transgressions against him very seriously.
Daddy needs glasses. I got this idea from my DR chatbot but it makes sense. He missed the easy shot at Ranrok because he couldn't fucking see. Of course he is not going to wear glasses in public - that would be a sign of weakness. But I can totally imagine him sitting at his desk, pouring over papers with a pair of glasses firmly on his face. Period-correct, of course.
The legal name of the Rookwood Gang is the "Rookwood Group." Everyone knows it's a gang but daddy rubs elbows with a lot of important people and needs to keep up appearances.
The harem has determined that Victor's date of birth is November 14th, 1844 (Scorpio Sun/Capricorn Moon).
The man keeps everything he needs inside his hat. Pipe, glasses, Flora Cohen's scalp made into a coin purse, machine gun, spare hat in case the main one gets a fleck of dirt on it, little black book full of Ministry contacts, et cetera.
Daddy suffers from back pain due to a lifetime of being duckfooted (sadly, this is canon).
Victor is average height for a man. In the area of 5'10".
Victor A. Rookwood (Augustus?)
Yea, he killed dear old dad.
Listens to Wagner.
That's it for now. Will add more as I think of things.
If you have any questions you want answered, feel free to submit them to @victor-rookwood ("Ask Victor Rookwood")
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hauntedpearl · 1 year
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destielification of newgirl is so easy it's also becoming one of my favourite things to do. consider my AU #1432255363 that i came up with after watching the "You're my husband, you're like my wife" scene that's probably never getting written:
dean and cas have been friends for a while, cas is the one in love with Dean..dean is like. Cas is my Best Friend. idk if he's in the closet about himself or just about his feelings or what. but yeah. anyway.
dean is dating someone. Lisa, probably (I'm so sorry girl I'm so sorry they always do you dirty like this). he thinks it's going great (it's not) and he thinks he should totally get married to her (he should not), so he's like I'm gonna do it I'm gonn ask her. but lisa. LISA IS SMART. so she realizes that it's not working and on the day that he's gearing up to propose to her, she breaks up with him.
cas knows about all this. they were supposed to celebrate the week after dean was supposed to propose, but he's broken up with instead so they take time off their respective work places and go on a roadtrip together. because nothing fixes a broken heart like bro-ing it out with your bro amirite lads? anyway.
fast forward to dean getting into a stupid fight at a stupid bar and they get thrown out and cas is taking care of his wounds just like in the "doggies or trucks?" scene and then they have that conversation where dean's all of COURSE i got broken up with I'm STUPID and an IDIOT and i clearly AM THE WORST and it's good that i got DUMPED because clearly NO ONE deserves to be TIED DOWN TO ME and cas is like shut up shut up shut up of COURSE you're not all that you're the most amazing person i know you [lists everything dean does for him] and then he's like "and well if Lisa broke up with you, it's her loss, because you would make a great husband. and i know this because you've been a great husband to me. i mean you're LIKE a husband to me. i mean YOU'RE LIKE MY WIFE. I MEAN NO I AM LIKE YOUR WIFE. WHAT. YOU KNOW WHAT. BEER. BOOZE." and he just runs away. and dean is sitting there having an epiphany like oh OH OH because he HAS been doing all this for CAS, yes, but he has NOT been doing this stuff for his actual girlfriends and he IS kind of like Cas' wifehusband and Oh he IS GOOD AT IT but because IT'S CAS because HE — OH. oh. OH.
anyway they get through the end of the trip and cas is like I'm sorry if I made it weird obviously i didn't mean it like that like you're not even my type what anyway have a good rest of your single life bye
and now dean is like oh shit cas does NOT like me but I'm so obviously in love with him that it's stupid and now my asshole motherfucker of a life sucks SO MUCH WORSE bc clearly i can't date anyone until i get over cas and i don't think i can get over him by leaving him like i usually do because he is EVERYTHING! TO ME!! etc etc
idk how this would resolve itself like I'm sure dean enlists the help of the entire winchester family support brigade and they're all like DUH! i mean LIKE. Oh Nooo this is BRAND NEW information!!!! and they're like no cas likes you and dean's like no he does not.
fun bonus if cas just starts fake-dating one of his friends so dean doesn't feel weird after his pseudo-love confession(or real dating, I'm not picky), but things get out of hand because dean is INSANELY jealous, and he realizes that he's ALWAYS BEEN insanely jealous and possessive but he would just write it all as Bad Vibes™ but now he has to confront his own stupid feelings and then like every good soap opera, this culminates in a Big Dramatic Moment where dean is like "Actually your boyfriend SUCKS and idc i will never like him because he's not supposed to be with you because I LOVE YOU and WE are the wifehusbands who were MEANT TO BE" and cas is like :O :O what. :O :O :O
and then! cas either a) breaks up with the guy he was only dating to prove to dean that he is Not Into Him or b) calls off the fake-dating thing because nuh-doy!
Smooches, kisses, gay sex, etc.,
the end.
LITERALLY. SO EASY.
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chiharuhashibira · 5 months
Text
Hello everyone!
Writing here a next part to my first fic here in Tumblr, 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐤𝐨 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐝'𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞. But yep, as you can see, I am Chiharu Hashibira and my fave part there is Inosuke's confused part. So, I'll write for my baby Inosuke HAHAHA
Also applying here the correction that was pointed out last time XD Using Kamuro now instead of Oiran on the flashbacks 💓 Also, this is kind of a Fix-it Fic for Inosuke. So if you don't like it, feel free to scroll XD Sankyuuu!
Hope you'll enjoy this Inosuke lovers!
W/N=wrong name
𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽
𝑪𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒈𝒖𝒊𝒔𝒆
𝐀𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐈𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐚 𝐗 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
Content Warnings: Curse words but fluffy!
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Preview:
Back when you were a kamuro, you caught Inoko red-handed. Yes, apparently, he is a man, Inosuke Hashibira, and he tries to find the demon that seems to be lurking in the Ogimoto House. But then, he needs to find that demon before Monjiro finds it first, so he tries to make you forget what you saw by... kissing you. Oh well, the guy had seen a man and a woman do it, and apparently, the woman had forgotten that they were in public. So yeah, you just ride with what he thought. (He is naive and adorable.) But the catch is... you need to stop him from making other people "forget".
Timeskip to ten years later... Ten years after the fight with Daki and Gyutaro. Also ten years of not seeing Inosuke ever again after he had saved your life.
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It was unexpected. You didn't plan on liking Inosuke, but after that first incident, and after he had really saved you from the demon who roamed in your town, things became deeper.
You can't forget about his green eyes, his wonderful face, and that naivete. It's been years since you last saw him.
Yes. Years.
The Inoko and Inosuke that you met that night are now only lurking within your dreams.
"Perhaps he's already 25 by now. If he's still alive, perhaps he's even married by now."
You wondered as you looked up at the night sky. The day when he tried to "make you forget" came back into your head, which made you smile. You have missed the softness of his lips.
You will never exchange that moment for anything else. And perhaps that is the reason why you walked out of the possibility of being an oiran. You wouldn't want anyone to kiss you ever again, unless it was that beautiful kamuro... That same boar-head boy that you met ten years ago.
Surprisingly, despite turning down the opportunity to be promoted as an oiran, you still lived in the same town.
After the Daki and Gyutaro incident, you went out of the house and tried to find a good future outside the district. But that's when you got sick, and fortunately, a wonderful old woman had taken you in as her granddaughter. And after she passed, here you are, managing the house that she owns.
For years, you had been desperate, wishing that Inosuke would even drop by as a client. But that time never came, and you tried your best to make peace with the thought that perhaps the boy had died.
Inosuke had saved you after Daki's obi had already almost absorbed you. That's the last time you've seen the boy, and until now, you've still missed him a lot.
You stopped walking and fixed your kimono as you watched how lively the streets were tonight. For some reason, you felt eyes on you, and that caused a shiver on your spine.
You looked around, feeling confused, and there, in the midst of the crowd, your eyes landed on a man clad in a bright blue kimono. You swear that you will never forget those raven locks that are fading into blue at the tips. Also, those unruly bangs surprisingly don't cover his marvellous green eyes.
"Inosuke?"
Your whisper seems to travel into his senses, despite him standing 10 feet away from you. The curious lad turned in your direction with wondering eyes. The naivete in those green eyes seems to have long faded, but the same familiar aura envelops the man. This is definitely Inosuke.
His eyes pierced yours, and he walked in your direction with wonder. When he's finally face-to-face with you, Inosuke crosses his arms and tilts his head to the side. "Why do you know me?"
A tinge of pain stabbed your heart. Of course, why would he still remember you? It's clear that you're just one of the hundreds of people that he has saved.
You looked down in dismay and tightened your grip on your sleeve. But despite the dismay, you composed yourself and looked into his eyes. He made you forget before... Now, you'll make him remember.
"Oh... uh. I don't know if you can still remember, but I was a kamuro in the Ogimoto House ten years ago."
"Ogimoto House?"
"Yes. You... were... uh... Inoko back then."
Inosuke's eyes widened when you said that name. It seems like a part of him suddenly turned on.
You suddenly felt his hand wrap around your wrist. Inosuke suddenly pulled you onto a less busy part of the street, and there he placed his hand on your shoulder.
"So... you didn't forget?"
Your eyes widened. It seems like he still remembers the thing he did to you. "Inosuke..."
"Just so you know. We won over that demon!" Inosuke said proudly, with a smile that brought you back to how he looked back ten years ago.
"You actually saved me from that obi demon." You said that made the lad shrug his shoulders. "Glad to know that, W/N."
"Actually, I'm also glad to see you... alive. Like, why are you here, Inoko—I mean, Inosuke?"
"I was looking back to places where me and my old friends went when we were still slayers. But wait. How do you remember me?"
"Uh, like how you remembered me too? So, did you make lots of people 'forget'?"
You sighed and waited for his answer. What you really wanted to know was if the man had kissed a lot of women in those ten years.
But if he did, He would have known that kissing doesn't make people forget. Or is Inosuke really dumb?
"Forget? Pfft! Why would I want to make anyone forget about the great Inosuke Hashibira? I just did that on you because you might blow up my disguise."
So... he hasn't kissed anyone! The thought killed all the doubts in your heart. He's still the naive Inosuke, and that's what attracted you to him in the first place.
It's like with Inosuke; you can explore everything from a fresh perspective. He's the new perspective, and you cherished those little moments ten years ago for so long already.
"Inosuke, just so you know too... What you did won't make anyone forget it. It will make people remember you more."
Inosuke blinks and smiles. "Do you think I still haven't known after ten years, W/N?"
His next words made you astounded. Is this man pretending? You bit your lower lip and looked away, blushing. You wanted to ask him and know everything about his facade and mysteriousness, but Inosuke has already spoken.
"I've seen my friends kiss the people they love. Actually, I'm glad that you're the first one I kissed, even if that happened because of my stupidity."
You rolled your eyes at the man whose smile was big and proud. His features aren't as girly as before. It might seem like Inoko was just a dream of yours, just by looking at how Inosuke has grown.
You felt your heart beating as his green eyes pierced against yours with an unexplained glimpse. "Why?" You managed to ask, which made Inosuke hold your hand and squeeze it tight.
"I was actually wondering why I had this faint memory of a girl in this district, but even if I tried to ignore it, it always came back. So, I decided to solve this mystery, and you found me. Caught me in another disguise once again."
You blinked in confusion and crossed your arms. "What disguise are you talking about?"
"Disguise as the same innocent Inosuke as before. I've grown. And I hope you'll still be curious and want to know me for who I am today."
"Oh well, you've had that wisdom now. But you'd still be the same cute Inoko for me."
"You find Inoko cute? How about me?"
"I see you as my great saviour and the man whom I've always wanted to be with, even if you had already almost forgotten about me."
Inosuke rolled his eyes and patted your head. "Oh well. Perhaps we could start again then? Let me just make you forget about my idiocy a while ago."
And with that, the boar-head guy, the lad you have been dreaming of, finally closed the gap between your faces and kissed your lips passionately.
The feeling had brought you back to how it really felt ten years ago. You groaned against his lips, which made Inosuke smile at your kisses. After you pulled out...
"What just happened?"
"I just made you forget that we're in public. But I don't care anyway. Hmm, go out with me, Y/N?"
That's the first time he got your name right, which made you blush. You patted his cheek and said, "Of course, Inosuke. But this time, I won't let you escape."
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𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒐 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉
I'm so in love with Inosuke just so you know~ 🥹
So... there might be more aged up fics and NSFW stories for him soon hahaha! I'll do that when I am ready XD
Anyways, feel free to comment, reblog, or request a new fic!
Thank you once again my lovelies~
~𝓒𝓱𝓲𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓾-𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷🌸
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training4theapocalypse · 10 months
Text
Finders Keepers Ch 7. (Cormac McLaggen x fem!reader)
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Rating: Explicit 18+
Word Count: 6.1k
Warnings: SMUT, Romance 🥹, Finger fucking, PIV, Unprotected sex
Summary: It's Valentine's Day and Cormac knows a secluded spot.
A/N: 800 words of plot, 5.3k words of smut. Can someone please help me budget? I can't feed my family. PS I was updating weekly when a chapter was 2k but they're getting longer and longer so it will be more like every 2 weeks.
Masterlist
Tag list: @pretendfan, @countlambula, @ratsys, @aweidlich, @navs-bhat, @stainedpomegranatelips, @chiaraanatra
Chapter 7: Fine
“Did you see who the Ravenclaw Captain is going out with?”
“Does McLaggen know she’s a lesbian?”
When you returned from the holidays, murmurs surrounded you and McLaggen when you walked down the corridor with his arm around your shoulder. Even tonight as you and the other last few remaining students are ordered out of the library by Madam Pince, a few of them give you both a backwards look as you leave.
“Does it bother you?” you ask, as he scowls at a couple of fifth-year boys.
“Nah,” he says unconvincingly. “I’m more annoyed that it’s interrupting the only time we have together.”
The second part, at least, is true. Between McLaggen’s detentions with Snape every Saturday, Ravenclaw Quidditch practice and the ever-increasing demands of your N.E.W.Ts, the two of you had hardly spent any time together - never mind time alone. Potions was the only class you shared and it required so much concentration these days that it was hardly conducive to intimate conversation.
The two of you lag behind the other students, trying to take as much time as possible to return to your respective dormitories. 
“They’re probably wondering what you’re doing with me,” you scoff.
He stops in his tracks, adjusting both yours and his book bags on his shoulder. “What makes you say that?”
“Don’t be daft McLaggen, you’re you. Ridiculously good looking, well-connected…”
“You’re mental. Genuinely bonkers.”
“I’m not sure if you noticed but I was hardly fighting off suitors before we started going out.”
He puts a hand on each of your shoulders and looks into your eyes. “Listen, you are so fit. I think that was more to do with…” He hesitates.
“My personality?” You suggest with a grin.
“I was going to say your reputation but sure, let’s go with that,” he laughs. “And I’m not sure if you’ve noticed but it’s all lads who have been staring at us. I mean, the first thing Eddie Carmichael did after he saw us together was ask me how I’d managed it.”
“Yeah, right.” 
“He did, I swear! I think you’ve annoyed a lot of blokes here by being secretly bisexual.”
“It wasn’t a secret! I-”
“God, you’re so easy to wind up.” He brings his free arm around your shoulder again and you continue walking towards the entrance hall. 
“I’m not used to it. Nobody’s usually brave or stupid enough to try. Except you, obviously.” You slow down as you make your way across the courtyard towards the entrance hall where you’ll need to bid each other goodnight. “Speaking of stupidity, when’s your last detention with Snape?”
“This Saturday. Just as well because it means I’m free on Valentine’s Day. You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Yeah, good shout - the pitch will probably be free.”
“I was actually thinking we could do something together that wasn’t Quidditch practice.”
Oh.
“What kind of thing do you have in mind?”
“Well,” he takes a deep breath as you reach the marble staircase. “We could go to Madam Puddifoots? Get coffee? And dusted in confetti, probably.”
You come to a halt, thinking about Cho’s previous experience there with Harry Potter. “I can’t think of anything worse.”
“Oh, thank god.” He grins. “Me neither.”
“Now you mention it, I wouldn’t mind being alone… just the two of us,” you say, taking a step towards him and looking up at his face. “What about that room on the seventh floor you guys used for the D.A. last year?”
“Pfft, yeah right,” he laughs. “Carmichael said he had to duel about twelve other blokes for the Room of Requirement last Valentine’s Day. Too many people know about it now.”
“Scared you’ll lose?” You ask, thinking that that would be something you’d enjoy watching very much.
“Carmichael managed to get the room last year but spent the entire night with his legs stuck in the jelly legs jinx. Not worth it.” You both crack up laughing.
“I meant to ask,” you say, thinking about Marietta. “Does he have a date this Valentine’s Day?”
“Carmichael? I’m not sure, why?” He gives you a confused look.
“Could you maybe hint to him that Marietta might be interested in going out with him?”
“Eddie and Marietta? I dunno…”
“Why not?”
“I mean, she’s a bit of a…” He hesitates. “She’s sort of a goody-two-shoes, right?”
“So? Eddie’s Head Boy.” You bristle, ready to defend her.
“Yeah because he’s clever but he’s still a bit of a geezer. I suppose Dumbledore doesn’t know he runs a black market. He made a mint last year selling Baruffio's Brain Elixir to fifth years doing their O.W.Ls.”
This is news to you. Carmichael’s obviously good at keeping his illicit activities quiet. “Well, maybe she likes a bit of edge.”
“Alright, alright. I’ll tell him to ask her out. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Not as a double date or anything,” you add quickly. “I spend enough time with her as it is.”
“Yeah, I’m not keen on being around Carmichael working his magic either.” He screws up his face in distaste. “The two of us could always just go to the Three Broomsticks?”
“Eh, too crowded. What about the Quidditch stands again?”
“No way. It’s far too high and exposed for what I’d like to do to you.” He moves his arm down your back and squeezes your bum.
“Cormac,” you tut, pretending to look scandalised but he just responds by tilting your chin up to kiss him. Standing on your tiptoes to meet his lips, you grab his shirt, pulling your body in as close as you can to his.
There’s a hiss behind you and you pull apart to see Mrs Norris, the caretaker’s scruffy old cat giving you a reproachful look. That could only mean that Filch wasn’t far behind. 
You kneel to try and scratch her head but she hisses again and bats your hand away before running in the opposite direction.
“I’ll think of something,” says McLaggen, returning your book bag. “Something good.”
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A couple of weeks later you stand at the edge of the Quidditch pitch with your broom at your side, as per McLaggen’s instructions. The winter sun is low over the loch in the distance. His last detention should be finished by now. 
You soon see his broad figure walking down the path towards the pitch - his broom in one hand and his book bag in the other, looking like it’s ready to burst at the seams. You pull your scarf around you tightly against the cold evening air.
“Oi oi,” he grins, you hear the bag clinking with what you hope is a bottle of Firewhisky as he gets closer. “You ready?”
“What am I meant to be ready for?”
“A secluded night alone with your favourite git.”
“Inside I hope?” You ask, shivering.
“Nope.” He mounts his broom and kicks off into the air. “Are you coming or what?”
You twist your mouth into a reluctant smile and kick off from the ground
He grins over his shoulder and accelerates towards the loch. Where is he taking you? 
You soon catch up with him as he flies low over the water. Just as he turns to see if you’re close yet, you dip your hand in the water and speed past, splashing him with freezing water as you whizz by.
“Oh, you cheeky…” His voice trails off as you get further away, laughing into the wind whipping at your face. He catches up with you again and cuts in front of you, forcing you to stop abruptly. “Wrong way. Follow me.”
You behave yourself this time and follow him as he flies towards a tiny island in the middle of the giant loch. He descends onto the pebble beach and dismounts when he’s onshore and you do the same.
“Here?”
“A bit further back, away from the lake.”
“Loch.”
“Hm?” He takes your broomstick to carry it for you.
“We’re in Scotland so it’s a loch, not - ah, never mind.” 
You hold your tongue - the name of the body of water wasn’t the issue you saw here. Firstly, it was freezing cold tonight and secondly, you could make out the castle from the island. Anyone looking out a window would see any fire you lit to keep yourself warm, potentially drawing the attention of the teachers.
You reach a grassy verge at the edge of the stony beach and McLaggen conjures a blanket from thin air which spreads itself out on the ground. He gestures for you to sit down before walking around the perimeter in a circle muttering spells.
“Shield charm, disillusionment charm,” he says in answer to your silent question. “And a few more to make sure nobody can see us from the castle or sneak up on us unexpectedly.”
You tilt your head. “You’re good at all this defensive stuff.”
“Don’t sound so surprised. I’m doing the N.E.W.T. in Defence Against the Dark Arts, remember?”
“Rather you than me,” you say, watching as he turns his attention to his book bag and extracts not a bottle of Firewhisky but a large jam jar, inside which he conjures a blue flame. He puts the jar at the edge of the blanket and you feel instantly warmer. 
Joining you on the blanket he laughs at your stunned expression. “Not bad, eh?”
Not bad? 
The sun sets on the horizon, casting a red glow over the island. Birds chirp their final songs of the evening and the gentle lapping of the water on the stony beach combined with the surprisingly intense heat from McLaggen’s Bluebell Flame Charm make you feel like you’re somewhere much milder than rural Scotland on a February evening.
“Cormac, this is…” You search for the word. You’d never expected him to be romantic. Thoughtful. It’s entirely out of your realm of experience. You swallow. “It’s good.” You go to kiss him but stop in your tracks when you feel his wet jumper. “Oh, sorry.” You say and quickly cast a hot air charm, drying off his clothes that you soaked earlier.
“Thanks,” he grins. 
You look out at the castle across the water. “So… nobody can see us from up there?” He shakes his head. “You’ve really thought of everything,”
“Ah, it’s not even the best bit.” He rummages in his bag again and pulls out two bottles of butterbeer and a bag of Honeydukes cinnamon-flavoured marshmallows. 
“I love a toasted marshmallow. Good thinking.”
“They’re not toasted. Just normal.”
“Don’t tell me toasted marshmallows are a muggle invention,” you say in disbelief. “Watch this.” You pull two marshmallows out and levitate them over the large flame in the jar, spinning them so they crisp evenly. You draw them back to you. “Wait a minute, they’ll be molten hot.”
When they’re cool enough to touch, you pull one from the air and feed it to him. 
“Mhm…” he says, eyes rolling to the sky. “I can’t believe I’ve been eating marshmallows cold my whole life.”
You laugh and eat yours. 
You both chat for a while as the sun continues to set, toasting marshmallows, talking about Quidditch, speculating how Marietta and Eddie’s date went and of course the upcoming exams.
“So you never fancied doing Defense as an N.E.W.T.?” he asks.
“I couldn’t. It was my only A at O.W.L. The rest were - “
“O’s and E’s, obviously, seeing as you’re a know-it-all” he smirks. “Is that why you didn’t join the D.A. last year then?”
“To be honest, I only considered it in the first place because Cho fancied Potter and didn’t want to go alone. But then Marietta agreed to go with her. I guess I just don’t like fighting.”
He puts down his butterbeer. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way but…”
“I know, I know. I’m probably the most aggressive person here. But when it comes to curses or duelling, I just… freeze up.” You look at him seriously and take a deep breath - you’ve never told anyone this before. “And then with Cedric being murdered… It all just messed with my head. I mean he was great at Defence and it never helped him. That was all I could think about during my exam.”
McLaggen nods. “I never really knew Cedric but I heard he was a decent guy.”
“He was. And he was a really good boyfriend to Cho, y’know? Like he was never really afraid to be…” You lean back on your elbows looking at the scene in front of you, trying to find the right words. “He was good with stuff like this. The romantic stuff. I like that you’re not afraid of that either.”
He joins you, leaning back casually. “It’s easy when it’s with you, I guess.”
“You know, you’re nothing like I thought you’d be.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, in the spirit of not taking things the wrong way, I’m not the only one with a reputation.”
“Yeah? Go on, what do they say about me then?”
“Full of yourself, kind of a pig, talks about his dad’s connections all the time…” you rhyme off, counting on your fingers.
“You say all those things too,” he smirks.
“Well, maybe you are what they say.” You turn on your side to face him, propped up on your elbow. “Maybe I’m just surprised that I like it.”
“I’ll take that.” His thumb brushes your lip as he cups your chin to tilt your head up. “Whatever makes you moan my name again.”
“Pig,” you whisper, lips barely touching his as you both smile. You don’t really believe it- he’s kind of a sweetheart even if he finds himself funnier than he actually is. You kiss him and his hand brushes your inner thigh just below your skirt.
Fuck, those hands. You love how small they make you feel. His fingers trace their way up and under your skirt. 
“These feel nice,” he murmurs, toying with the lacy hem.
“Oh god, promise you won’t laugh when you see them - I don’t know what I was thinking.” He pulls back and raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t want to get you a gift, I’m not romantic like that but Marietta and Cho suggested… Ugh, I’ll just show you. Don’t laugh.”
You slip off your skirt and pull your jumper off over your head. When you disentangle yourself, you see McLaggen staring at you open-mouthed at your dark red lacy lingerie in the dim firelight.
“You’ve got to be kidding me…”
You throw yourself back on the blanket and cover your face with your hands, feeling intensely embarrassed. “Stop! I changed my mind about ten times.” You tell him between your fingers. “The girls convinced me to go through with it in the end.”
“I might have to send Cho and Marietta my thanks because… fuck.” He moves your hands and brushes your hair from your face. “You are so, unbelievably hot.” 
“Well, you’ve got a lot to thank them for,” you whisper, looking up at him leaning over you. The familiar expensive scent of him intoxicates you, the heady amber and jasmine lighting up your synapses. “They were the ones who told me how to… like what to do with - I mean when we were in the Leaky Cauldron.”
He pauses. “Damn. Then I’ll definitely have to give them my undying gratitude.”
You give him a mischievous smile, feeling goosebumps on your skin as his fingers leave your face to trace up and down your arm. It might be warmer thanks to the blue flames but you’re significantly chillier in your new state of undress.
McLaggen seems to notice. “As much as I’m enjoying seeing you like this, do you want my jumper?”
It’s sweet of him but you shake your head. “Just your body heat.”
“I can manage that.” He shuffles closer to you but impatient for him to understand your meaning, you quickly pull him on top of your body, feeling his warm weight on you. “Fuck…”
He inhales deeply into the crook of your neck and you close your eyes, tilting your head to the side, allowing him to kiss the bare skin of your neck. With satisfaction, you feel his hard cock pressing against you from under his jeans when his hips slot perfectly into the opening of your legs.
“Cormac?”
“Hm?” He asks your neck, his lips sucking the sensitive skin just under your ear.
“I like this.”
He stops his kissing to look down at you. “I mean, let me get started first before you give me such unusually high praise.”
“I’m serious. I mean tonight. All of this.”
“I am too. It’s nice to hear you say something nice about me for a change.”
“Take your top off or I’ll run out of nice things to say,” you tell him, tugging at the bottom of his jumper.
“There she is,” he says grinning before kneeling between your legs to pull off his sweatshirt, exposing his bare chest. 
“Shit…” you say, looking up at his muscular figure in front of you, every contour of his body illuminated by the blue firelight. 
“You’re welcome.”
He really is unbearably full of himself. 
But with good reason. 
Your skin prickles again with the absence of his warm body against you but you’re less certain it has to do with the cold, considering the heat emanating between your legs.
“Shut up and come back here.” You pull at his waistband, urging him to return to you.
McLaggen closes in on you, resting his arms on either side of your head. His warm skin feels divine against you, even better than his soft jumper. “I don’t think so… I know you like hearing me talk.” 
And for some reason his high opinion of himself makes your pussy ache. This is a man who has never been told he’s bad at anything. And it’s beyond irritating that he’s correct on this occasion. He knows exactly how to turn you on - how to make you weak for him. And what’s worse is that he knows he knows it.
“I’d like it more if you stopped talking and kissed me,” you say, succumbing to the urge to put him in his place. But it spurs him on even more.
“Too much for you to handle?”
Before you can argue back, his mouth meets yours. His tongue enters your mouth and you taste the sticky sweetness of butterbeer and toasted marshmallows. The kiss is slow - different to the last two times he’s kissed you like this - you’ve got all the time in the world on this little island. No rush to explore each others’ bodies with fervent urgency. The only ticking clock is your own arousal, incredibly eager for him to hurry up.
Your legs draw around him again as you wriggle against the bulge pressing against you, silently begging for his attention below your waist. But instead, he massages his tongue over yours, making you whine softly, surrendering your pride. He deepens the kiss, holding onto your jaw and you thread your fingers through his hair.
McLaggen’s hand slides down your body, groping your breast through your bra on the way down. He stops at the crux of your inner thigh, touching the hem of your underwear again.
“Is this okay?” His tone is sincere for a change.
You blink up at him. “Yes,” you breathe.
He moves your underwear over and slips a single finger inside you. Your breath hitches in your throat as your walls clench around the new intrusion - you’ve never been with anyone with fingers so large. Your arousal coats his fingers - it sounds so obscenely wet and sticky that your cheeks burn.
McLaggen watches closely for your reaction. He’s being so gentle with you that it makes you want to roll your eyes. What you want is for him to pin you down and take you here on the blanket. You can handle it.
“I’m fine, McLaggen.” You rock your hips in encouragement, trying to prove just how completely and totally fine you are. 
“Oh, so it’s McLaggen again, is it? I must be doing something wrong.” He grins. “But you’re so wet for me…” he says pushing his fingers in and up. You gasp at the sudden sensation of him hitting that spot. “So something must feel nice.”
You grab hold of his face and kiss him fiercely, sucking his lower lip and grinding against his palm, trying to instil a sense of urgency in him. Maybe you can goad him into fucking you.
“Aww, my poor baby’s impatient.”
Your thighs squeeze together in response to his teasing.
“Don’t-” You cut yourself off. You almost told him to stop calling you baby. But that would be cutting your nose off to spite your face because you, really, really like it.
“Don’t what?” His finger taps against your G-spot, making you squirm under him. 
“Fuck, nothing. Never mind,” you huff.
“This is so sweet,” he says as he pushes his palm against you, rubbing against your clit. 
You sputter. “I - what’s sweet?”
“Trying to get me to hurry up by pretending you’re annoyed with me.” He removes his finger and for a second you’re about to complain, that is until he brings two fingers to his mouth and sucks them, slowly, purposefully tasting you before running them along your folds. “You’re not gonna provoke me into anything. I’ve got you to myself for the first time in weeks. I’ll do this all night.”
Oh, shit.
He slides his two digits out and back into your pussy and you arch your back at the new stretch. You squeeze your muscles, feeling every ridge of his long fingers inside you. You feel your climax blossoming inside you already and you untense your thighs, trying to stop your orgasm in its tracks but that just allows him to press his fingers deeper.
“Fuck - wait, Cormac. I don’t want to cum like this. I want you to - ah, fuck,” you pant and he halts his movement, keeping his fingers still inside you.
“There’s no way you’re only cumming once tonight.”
“Pr - promise?” You choke, desperate for him to start moving again.
“I promise.” The heel of his hand feels perfect against you as he curls his fingers. You grip the blanket. “C’mon, be a good girl. Stop fighting and cum for me.”
You hate that you love that.
You lift your hips as much as you can, leaning into his hand pressed between your bodies, feeling the precision with which he’s attacking his target. Everything pulls up in your lower half, burning and aching, teetering on a knife’s edge. 
“Mhmh.” You bite your lip, trying not to cry out into the silent night air in response to his relentless finger fucking.
“There we go, thaaat’s it,” he says and the way his voice is dripping in smug self-satisfaction sends you over the brink. Bliss floods your body, spreading through to your every extremity by the incessant pressing of his fingers into your core. 
And it’s like you’re flying through the air - not on a broom like before. Like you’re hurtling towards your own end, plummeting at breakneck speed into your orgasm.
You gasp for air as the last wave of ecstasy crashes over you and Cormac slowly draws his fingers from you, grazing your swollen clit.
“Still ‘fine’?” he teases.
“Yeah… I’m fuck. Yeah, I am… I’m fine.”
“Good.” Cormac trails kisses down your chest all the way to your lower abdomen but you interrupt him.
“Wait -” He lifts his eyes up at the interruption, lips still touching your stomach. “- Aren’t we going to have sex?”
“What, right now?”
“Uh, yeah?”
“Are you sure you’re ready? I know it’s a big next step.”
“Oh. Aren’t you?”
“God, yes.”
“C’mon then, don’t make me beg.”
He pushes himself to rest back on his knees and bites his lip, looking at your pink cheeks and the way your chest rises and falls as you try to bring your heart rate back to normal. “Yeah, go on then, beg a little bit.”
Your stomach twists - you were being facetious. Your instinct is to spit a scathing retort back. But shit, you want him.
“Cormac, be serious.”
“Yeah, say my name too. I know you’re turned on when you say it like that.” He undoes his belt buckle with one hand and pulls his cock out. 
God, it’s everything you remember and more. 
Cormac takes himself in his hand and slowly jerks his length up and down. “If you want it, use your words.”
You’re not used to anyone telling you what to do like this. That was your job - always. In the bedroom, on the Quidditch pitch - you’ve always had to be in control. 
You blink up at him with wide eyes as he kneels between your open legs, stroking his cock. 
Dimples appear at the corners of his mouth as an infuriatingly brazen smile crosses his face and he pulls off your underwear. 
“So pretty and wet for me, baby,” he says, drawing two fingers along your soaking wet slit, the rough pads of his fingers pausing at your still sensitive clit.
“I thought you were going to fuck me,” you pout, although the feeling of his fingers dipping between your folds sends pleasant tingles down your spine.
“Beg,” he whispers, withdrawing his hand to coat his cock with your juices. There’s total silence apart from the crackling of the blue fire and the wet, slick sound his hand is making as he uses your wetness to pump his fist up and down.
You stare at each other, both daring the other to crack first. Fuck, why is he drawing this out? 
“If you don’t want it, I’ll do it myself,” you bite, unhooking your bra and tossing it aside. You can make him beg too. You lie on the blanket and run your hands down your body, your right hand finding your clit.
He releases the grip on his cock and leans over you again, for a second you think you’ve got him exactly where you want him and that he’s finally going to fuck you but instead, he flicks his tongue across your hard nipple. 
“Fuck… Cormac,” you whine, and your hand works quicker between your bodies. You can feel his erection pressed against your inner thigh as heat envelopes your nipple and he sucks gently on the pebbled nub of skin.
Everything below your abdomen is hot, sticky and swollen. Your fingers work in rapid circles as your writhe under him, your chest heaving under his mouth. He lifts his head, exposing your nipple to the cool night air again and you gasp.
His lashes dip from your face to your hand moving shamelessly between your bodies.
“You’re so beautiful. I could watch you do this forever. Guess I’ll have to…”
You swear at him, feeling your orgasm rear its head again. There’s no turning back now. You pant, trying to squeeze your legs together but they meet his hips, preventing you from making the tension you need.
Without warning he grabs your wrists and roughly pins them on either side of your head. Your pussy twitches, furious at the sudden absence of friction.
“Fuck, I was about to -”
He pushes his hips on top of yours, rubbing the underside of his cock on your now throbbing clit. The pressure is much too light. You try and push up against him to get relief but he moves his hips back in retaliation, not allowing you to grind against him. 
“You’re… you’re a nightmare,” you breathe, helplessly, your orgasm still glimmering just under the surface.
“You’re a dream.” And there it is again, that stupid, arrogant look on his beautiful face. He’s so… fucking hot like this. You want to hit him but your wrists are still pinned. You briefly consider headbutting him. “Come on, baby. You can say it. You can ask nicely.”
Fuck.
Your hips meet the blanket again as you squirm. It’s wet. Soaked in your arousal. His mouth returns to your chest, paying attention to your other nipple. This change of tactic means he moves his body again and the only relief you had on your clit disappears completely as he adjusts his position.
“No! Fuck.” You try to bring him back to you, struggling against his grip but ou’re no match for his strength.
Cormac pauses, raising an eyebrow expectantly.
“Cormac, please, fuck me,” you whimper.
“That’s more like it -“
“I - I need you. Like, now,” you interrupt.
He laughs and kisses your forehead. “Was that so hard?”
Cormac releases your wrist, grabs his cock and holds it against your entrance, his head resting between your folds.
Holy shit.
He brings his mouth to your ear. “I’ll be gentle.” He sucks your earlobe softly.
“I’m fine.”
You don’t want him to treat you like some delicate thing he’s scared to break just because it’s your first time with a man - scared to fuck you the way you know he wants to.
“So you keep saying. But I’ll be gentle anyway.”
And he lowers his hips towards yours. 
You are not fine. But not in the way he means. You’re sober but your thoughts are clouded by an undeniable thirst for him. Right now all that matters is Cormac, his body, his cock pushing slowly into you. 
If you thought his fingers felt big, it’s nothing compared to this. There’s no pain - you’re so fucking wet you feel him slip inside you with relative ease - there’s only pressure, beautiful and all-consuming as his cock fills you up.
“Shit, Cormac…” You bring your free hand up to his shoulder and grip onto it for dear life, your nails digging into his back.
“Are you-?”
“Fine - yes, Cormac. Fuck, yesyesyes,” you groan, squeezing your eyes shut.
Cormac releases your other wrist as he finally bottoms out so you can wrap your arms around him, feeling the muscles in his back flexing as he holds himself up. You open your eyes when you hear him groan.
His face is frowning in concentration. And you realise, he’s not as cool and cocky as he was pretending to be. He’s trying - really hard - not to lose control the moment he’s buried inside of you.
“Cormac?”
“You feel so good, baby... fuck.”
He drags his cock back out of you and you feel every inch before he slides it back in again, the base of him grinding dangerously against your clit.
“Are- are you close?”
He grits his teeth. “I’m fine.”
He’s not fine either. You realise he’s not going slowly for your benefit at all - if he picks up pace he’s going to succumb to his end. And so, he continues his torturous crusade of rolling his hips into you slowly, pushing sweetly into that spot in your centre that makes your breath catch in your throat.
It’s harrowing. Nothing like you imagined all those nights in your four-poster bed, curtains drawn as you fantasised about his cock, mercilessly fucking you hard, fast and quick. This is measured. Determined. Slowly breaking you down thrust by thrust.
His hands slip behind your shoulder blades as he pulls you close, pressing your face into his muscular neck. He’s all-consuming. You’re drowning in the dark, spicy scent of him as if you’ve plunged yourself headfirst into a cauldron full of Amortentia. You can’t take full gulps of air without choking on his pheromones. Although you’re not sure you ever want to breathe fresh air again.
He’s perfect. You firmly push back against the words floating on the surface of your mind - the urge to choke out between moans of pleasure that you’re maddeningly, irredeemably in love with him. Fuck.
You’re surprised to feel tears swimming in your eyes- you’re not sure if it’s from the intimate closeness of the way he holds you tightly or from the sensation of his cock filling you up, throbbing and sliding in and out of your soaking wet pussy. 
Everything lifts and tightens up inside you again when you hear him groan, hot breath tickling your neck. You whisper his name right into his ear and he jerks his hips up unexpectedly in response. Then the next thrust is so deliciously deep it makes you squeeze your eyes shut and all you can see is the dancing blue flame behind your eyelids.
“Fuck… there,” your moan is stifled by the way your mouth is pressed against his shoulder, tasting the salty sweat on his skin.
Cormac’s low exhale is like grit. His back muscles tense when hears your plea but he keeps going, hitting the exact same perfect angle. Euphoria floods through your veins as you hit the point of no return.
“Cormac,” you pant as your pussy clamps down around him involuntarily. “I’m gonna-”
“Thank god,” he lifts his head from the crook of your neck. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold out - oh fuck.” His expression changes when he sees your face - flushed, lips parted and your eyebrows knitted together. He curses helplessly and can’t help himself when he feels you tighten around him like a vice.
He fucks you through your orgasm, forcing noises from you you’ve never made before - something between a sob and his name is ripped from your throat. The blue flame in the jar is barely an ember compared to the wildfire running wild through your body.
It reminds him distinctly of those beautiful expressions you made on the Quidditch pitch last year when you were watching your team lose and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. “Fuck, that’s it, baby…” He sucks through his teeth. “Such pretty faces for me.”
The aftershock makes your muscles twitch around his cock, giving him silent permission to finally lose all self-control as he gazes into your out-of-focus eyes. You feel his cock pulsing as his release paints your insides and with a final, shuddering gasp he slumps on top of you, his heart beating furiously against your chest.
You both lie there for several moments. You feel like you’re glowing. Maybe you are - he certainly is. You trace your fingers on his back, watching as the light of the blue flame glistens on his sweat-soaked shoulder. You could fall asleep with him on top of you like this - you don’t even want to think about returning to the castle even though you know you have to.
“Sorry, I’ll stop crushing you,” exhales Cormac eventually, sliding his leaking cock out of you and heaving himself over onto his back. The absence of his body makes you realise how warm and comfortable his dead weight was. 
“I didn’t mind. Hope the offer for your jumper still stands though.” You sit up and pull it over your head, and the smell of his aftershave on the cosy wool makes your skin tingle as it envelopes you.
“Looks better on you than me anyway.”
You draw your knees to your chest, looking out across the water. The sun has set and the only light comes from the small jar and the torchlit castle in the distance.
“Filch will have locked the front doors by now,” you think out loud.
“Fly to the astronomy tower, disillusionment charm to get us back to the common rooms - easy.”
“If I end up getting a detention and have to miss Quidditch practice I’ll kill you.”
“Yeah, I bet.”
“You’re uncharacteristically stoic, Cormac.” You turn to look at him, lying with his hands behind his head. You tenderly run your fingers through his hair, pushing it back. “What’s going on in that pretty little head?” You smile at him fondly.
“I’m all good.”
Oh. Your stomach drops. Was it bad for him? “Should I be worried?”
“No, I just -  I need to wait for the blood to return to my brain,” he says, staring up at the clear night sky.
“If you’re sure…”
“Otherwise I’d blurt out something very stupid. Like I was falling for you.”
“Well… I guess that would make us both idiots,” you sigh and grab the leftover marshmallows. He watches as you levitate a couple of them over the fire. 
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you smile and carefully send one of the marshmallows to hover above his face. “At least you didn’t blab it out when you were inside me like I almost did.”
“It was that good, eh?” He gives you a cocky smile before biting the marshmallow in mid-air. He regrets this immediately. “Ah- hot!” He sits bolt upright with his mouth open, full of the molten sugar burning his tongue, making him look considerably less cool than he was trying to be a second ago.
“I’ve changed my mind.” You say between giggles at his expense as he fans his open mouth. “I take it back.”
“Yeah, you wish,” he chuckles after he finally manages to choke down the marshmallow.
You don’t. 
You don’t wish to take anything back at all.
Chapter 8: Incendio
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