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agent-cupcake · 30 days

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Flashbang

Chapter 10 - Whisper

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Pairing: One Piece Live Action Buggy x f! Reader

Synopsis: The Buggy Pirates set sail once again. Unfortunately, tensions on the ship are high. Good thing you're there to help Captain Buggy relieve a little stress.

Warnings: Explicit smut, dubious consent, violence/blood, rough sex

Word Count: 13.5k

Notes: "I guess it's curtains for you" my god he is adorable please someone send help I am in loooooove. Happy Easter my friends I hope you like this one we're in the home stretch now.

“Come in, sit down, sweet angel, leave me all your tears Tell me all of your troubles, the weight of your short years Love is only a river drowning all of your cheer Sell me all of your laughter, and I will take some of your fear”

Awareness and clarity greeted you as soon as the slit of steely gray morning sunshine hit your face, peering through the edges of the blinds in Captain Buggy’s cabin. Part of you had already been awake, anticipating the dawn of a new day. Back at sea. Business as usual. Quiet the dread, hush your nerves. You could do this, and it would be fine.

It was hard though. Really hard. You didn’t want to get up. If you just stayed in bed, you could pretend that the previous day hadn’t happened. But you couldn’t do that. The thought of his displeasure if you didn’t get him breakfast while it was warm was reason enough to push you into action.

Buggy didn’t so much as stir when you extracted yourself from beneath his arm to get up. He slept in a haphazard splay with his limbs thrown to all four corners of the bed and his mouth wide open as he snored. That calmed you, if only for a moment. The mundane, vulnerable charm of seeing him sleep made your worries melt, overtaken with a borderline painful affection. Rubbing crust out of your eye and shivering in the morning cold, you wanted nothing more than to curl up beside him, to let him warm you back up.

Your thoughts quickly soured, the previous night rearing his ugly head. Thinking of your confession, raw and honest as it was, seemed so embarrassing now. So dramatic. So pathetic.

That was just like you, wasn’t it? You could never quite do or say the right thing when the moment called for it. You just piled up embarrassments and regrets and then hated yourself a little more afterwards.

But what could you do about it? Nothing.

Rifling through your clothes, you found a dress with long sleeves to cover the rope burns on your wrists, picking out thick, tall socks to cover the matching burns on your ankles. It seemed normal now, but it was odd that nothing of yours remained in the berth where you first bunked. Your things, few as they were, had gotten lost in the mess of Buggy’s clutter. Your clothes, significantly fortified after shopping, were hung up right along his. There was something domestic about it, although he probably would have called it practical. You were where he needed you to be, there wasn’t anything sentimental about it.

After tugging a brush through your hair, you styled it like Pippa taught you, even coating your eyelashes in mascara. No bandana, but you were getting used to that. It was strange how many things a person could get used to, losing old habits in the grind of day to day routine.

The previous day and night felt an awful lot like a bad dream, but that didn’t mean you could pretend it hadn’t happened. The proof was a chair tipped onto its side in the dining area, the table pushed into the corner, and the pile of cut ropes coiled on the floor with matching burns on your wrists and ankles. The proof was knowing why you had left Lafitte, and what was coming. Buggy hadn’t mentioned what he told the crew, but they had to know something.

You hoped that everything would be familiar as the crew fell back into the roles you originally knew them in, but when you journeyed down into the galley for breakfast, you found that things were more strange than ever. Before Lafitte, you had been wary of the ship and its crew because it was new, because it was frightening and alien. After a handful of weeks aboard, you had come around to mentally recontextualizing what was once intimidating and unknown. Like memorizing the features of a friend to the point you could no longer imagine them as a stranger. Up and down became oriented differently, the passageways and narrow ladder staircases no longer the cramped maze you used to think of them as. The geography of your surroundings changed as you did, because you had changed. You knew many things you didn’t know before, and the innocent veil that shrouded your new life had been lifted. Funny to think like that. A murderer’s innocence. And yet that lost, naive murderer was more recognizable than the person who returned to Captain Buggy’s quarters after having spent the night in his bed.

And what of the girl before? The sickly fool who lived in fear of her father? When you thought of that girl, meek and nervous and miserable, you didn’t recognize her either. Her thoughts, her feelings—you couldn’t understand them anymore than you could comprehend the woman who wore form-fitting clothes and makeup and told her dad that she had run away. That wasn’t you. It couldn’t be.

If none of them were recognizable, what was left? Whose was the life you lived now? Whose thoughts were the ones making your heart heavy and head ache? What were you supposed to be after everything that made you you cracked and crumbled and scattered? In the mess you’d made, what remained?

You didn’t like those questions, and you didn’t like the answers.

Setting the breakfast tray on the table, you picked Buggy’s chair up before going into the bedroom. He slept just as soundly as before.

“Good morning, Captain Buggy!” you called with a cheer you didn’t feel, opening the blinds. The sky reflected your mood back to you, a cover of clouds blanketing the world in angsty silvery sunlight.

You turned around to see Buggy drag a pillow over his face to shield it from the light.

“You have to wake up, Captain.”

“I am awake,” he grumbled, muffled through the pillow.

“I got breakfast,” you said, hoping to entice him up with food.

You couldn’t hear what he said exactly, but it sounded like, “You’re breakfast.”

You frowned, trying to think of how to wake him up. Most mornings on Lafitte had been lazy mornings, you had forgotten how difficult Buggy was to rouse. “There’s coffee.”

He moved the pillow, looking up at you with one squinting, sleepy eye.

“Why do you never bring me breakfast in bed?” he asked.

“You need the right type of tray,” you said, grabbing his robe and holding it out for him. “Otherwise it’s a huge mess.”

“A few crumbs aren’t the worst thing these sheets’ll get on ‘em,” he mumbled.

Before you could think of a good argument against that, he groaned dramatically, sitting up and stretching with his arms above his head, yawning wide and scratching his chest. He had a way of making the act of getting out of bed seem like it took a great deal of effort, although you suspected some of it was for show because as soon as he was up, he took his robe casually, swinging it on as he trudged into the other room.

Buggy sat down, paying no mind to the ropes or the awkward rearrangement of furniture. You set up his breakfast and then your own, and didn’t mention those things either.

There were some things you needed to know. Questions that burned up in your mind as you picked through your meal.

“What am I supposed to do now, Captain Buggy?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant. Although you were the one with the nasty haze of anesthesia clouding up your brain, he was the one who looked glazed over and exhausted, blinking once and then over and over, clearly trying to wake himself up.

“What was that?”

“I mean… My job. Um…” You frowned, not sure how to phrase what you meant without embarrassing yourself. During the month in Lafitte, you had performed some of the same tasks as you had when you first joined his crew, but that had been vacation. Now, it was back to work. You weren’t sure what that meant for you, or how you fit in within the crew anymore. If you even could claim to be a member of the crew. He had never actually said you were promoted out of your position as hostage.

“Your job?” Buggy repeated. “It’s the same as before. I’m not gonna give you special treatment just ‘cause you’re cute. You do whatever I tell you to do. Got it?”

“I didn’t mean I wanted special treatment,” you said, frowning. “I wasn’t sure because… Well, things are… different.”

“Better get used to it if you really wanna be a pirate,” Buggy said, pointing at you with his fork before shoving it into his mouth. “You don’t get anywhere by standing still.” There was wisdom in that statement, diminished as it was by his mouthful of food.

“Yes, Captain Buggy,” you said, returning to your breakfast.

Maybe that had been the wrong question. What you really wanted to know was where you stood with him. Sure, the two of you had made up last night. Twice, actually. But no mention was made of your conversation or confession beyond him telling you to repeat it. I love you.

Randall said he loved you.

Dad said he loved you, and he loved Mom.

So what did that love mean if it was betrayed just as easily as it was given?

Love as respect. Love as obedience. Love as service. Love as a lifeline because you knew absolutely that you could not live without him. Desperate and sickly in the way it thickened and heated your blood, dangerously and aggressively needful when your thoughts spiraled around scattered fragments of feeling and memory. And yet, so, so tender. You looked at him and something in you softened. Your strange, flamboyant, cruel captain.

He sat in his chair with his wild blue hair half tamed into a tail, scowling at his plate and shoveling food into his mouth without any thought given to manners. His profile was dominated by the red bulb of his nose and his teeth were yellowed and he needed a shave and he was truly, genuinely cursed and yet you couldn’t imagine wanting anybody else.

Was that who you were now? A girl dominated, defined even, by that single feeling. Longing, lust, love.

You weren’t sure you liked that answer very much either.

The weather didn’t help anybody’s mood, least of all your own. By the time you got lunch and brought it to Buggy’s office, the silvery canopy had congealed into a gloomy cover of thick gray clouds which oscillated between dribbling out a light rain or dropping low as an annoying mist. You could only pull your jacket so close, the real problem was how a humid chill could work itself beneath your clothes and skin and settle in the hollow places inside. It left you shaky, your head pounding with a relentless headache.

Buggy said that he told the crew all about your “Daddy Situation,” although he hadn’t elaborated much. Thinking about it made your chest clench painfully. The anxiety wasn’t all in your head, you didn't think. There was a tension in the air, something uncomfortable lurking amidst groups of glaring crew members. For the most part, you had never been accepted. Some of the pirates liked you well enough, but not everybody. That seemed to be doubly true now.

Memories of the night you had been attacked kept coming to mind. You thought you had shoved them back into the deepest part of your brain to be forgotten. You didn’t want to think of it. But whenever you turned and realized somebody was standing in your blind spot, that same frantic panic flared up. Even though Buggy had assured you that it was Dad who sent them, you couldn’t believe that. Not really.

Instead of sitting and waiting for Buggy with all of those terrible thoughts swirling in your head, you left the tray on his desk and wandered into the map room, looking at the map laid out on the table to distract yourself. It was one of Dad’s maps, the ones he had been working on so intently in the months before you left. His pet project. You could, generally, read a map. That is, you knew what the different symbols and landmarks were supposed to mean.

You found Lafitte, tracing it to Barley. You were very far from home.

“You know, babydoll,” Buggy said as a way to announce himself as he opened the door with a little whoosh of breezy mist. The rain was light, but even that seemed miserable out there on the deck. “I’m starting to think I understand what you feel like.” He shut the door, flicking water off his hands.

“Captain?”

“I’m completely soaked.”

“Oh! I got you a towel,” you said, pulling it from over your shoulder and holding it out to him. It was only after he’d taken it that you realized what he just said. “Wait, that was…” you frowned at him, flushing.

“What are you doing waiting in here?” he asked, taking off his coat and tossing it at you to hang up. You managed to catch it, but only barely. “I thought you can’t read.”

“I… I can read,” you told him, hanging up his coat to dry. “It’s difficult though, and I get a headache.” You wiped your damp hands off on your skirt and returned to the map. “Lafitte is here, right?” You pointed to the spot where it was labeled. “Where are we going now?”

“We’re going…” Buggy came up behind you, reaching around to tap on a little spot on the edge of a small island. It was near enough to Lafitte, you thought. Scale was difficult for you to grasp. “Right here. With this weather, I say we’ll get there by tomorrow.”

“Why there?” you asked, leaning in to get a better look. The village of Saline looked completely unassuming except for the fact that it was specifically marked.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Buggy told you, leaving the map room to go into his office. “It’s even tinier and shittier than the dump I fished you out of. It’s out of the way, too. Nobody in their right mind would think it was a good place to set up shop. Except for daddy dearest. When he redrew trade routes that involved a stop in Barley, suddenly it wasn’t so out of the way. It’s still a little shithole, but you know what’s good about little shitholes that nobody gives a damn about?” He fell into his chair, splaying over it like a king on a throne. “You can get away with setting up a drug lab right in the open and nobodies gonna care. Hell, the townies and local Marines welcome the extra scratch flowing in.”

“A drug lab,” you repeated, your eyebrows furrowing. Of all of the unpleasant truths about your father revealed to you in your time since joining Captain Buggy, that one was still the hardest to believe. You knew Dad experimented with that sort of thing, he had always enjoyed chemistry and medicine, but it was difficult for you to wrap your mind around the idea that he would involve himself in such a horrible enterprise.

“Yeah, he wasn’t gonna put it in his own backyard,” Buggy said, pulling his tray towards him. “He’s not a complete moron.”

You frowned, a new question occurring to you. “If it’s a place he knows of, why are we going there?” you asked, following into his office to take your own seat. “He’ll track us down immediately.”

“No need,” Buggy said. “I already gave him an invite to the show.”

Your heart dropped, your breath catching.

“What’s with the face?” Buggy asked, frowning at your lack of enthusiasm. “You’re the reason we have to premiere so soon. Believe me, these freaks need more time to get their acts right. But,” he shrugged, “the show must go on. And before you get all nervous, don’t worry. I have a very special role lined up just for you.”

“But I don’t—I can’t do…” You trailed off, a new form of anxiety racking your raw nerves.

“Yeah, yeah, I know you can’t do anything,” he said, waving his hand. “That’s fine, dolls aren’t meant to do things. They’re there to look at and be played with, right? It’s perfect for you.”

Pushing all of the air from your chest as if to physically expel your doubt, you nodded. You trusted Buggy, that’s what you told him last night. You had to trust him.

Later that afternoon, you distracted yourself with busy work in Buggy’s office. He was busy, most of your chores were done, and the rain continued to insist upon its miserable wetness so there wasn’t much else you could think to do. You didn’t want to interact with anybody on the crew. Out of sight, out of mind.

Being alone wasn’t great either, especially now that you had the idea of performing to further pile upon your list of things to worry about. Every single time you had eyes on you, you managed to embarrass yourself, and you didn’t think this time would be any different.

Your brain got stuck in a loop on that one, trying to think of ways to make an appeal to Buggy that he would accept. Knowing it wouldn’t matter what you said, you wouldn’t change his mind. Wanting desperately to please him. Knowing you would only disappoint him. That endless feedback loop of anxiety continued on and on until there was nothing else.

“Babydoll, you in here?”

You were aware that somebody was calling for you, but it seemed very distant. Difficult to connect with.

“Hello?”

You heard footsteps approaching, followed by a pair of legs entering your field of view.

“There you are, girly. You okay?”

You blinked.

“Marty?” you asked, looking up at him, confused and disoriented. Had he called you babydoll? Did he even know your real name? “I’m fine, I guess I just got… lost in thought.”

“I was hoping I could borrow you for a moment,” he told you. “Rather, if I could borrow your hands. I’m trying to fix a leak, but I can’t get these big hams in there to remove the plate.” He held up his hands with a friendly grin, and you relaxed. It was just Marty. He was your friend.

“Of course,” you said, standing up. You had been sitting on the floor so long that your body was stiff, although you weren’t entirely sure when you even got there.

If Marty found your behavior odd, he didn’t say anything, leading you from the quarter deck and below to a room slotted next to the galley. Dark and cramped and stinking of grease and filth and old metal and rotting wood, you could readily say you did not like being in there. But it was something you could do to be useful.

Marty held the light while you groped around where he indicated. Even for your hand, the space was tight, you couldn’t imagine him trying to fit in.

“Do you feel that little latch?” he asked.

You carefully ran your fingers along the back of the plate until you found something that seemed somewhat latch-like. Hopefully. “I think so.”

“If you press on it,” Marty told you, “the plate should come loose.”

With some effort, probably more than was warranted, you pressed on it until you heard a metallic scrape, the latch releasing the plate from its frame. Marty set the light down and removed the panel to reveal the geometric grid of pipes. You stepped back, wiping your hands.

“Would you mind holding the light for me?” Marty asked.

“Of course not,” you said, picking up the lamp to shine into the cavity.

“Thanks, girly.”

“Of course! Um… actually, I…” You hesitated, looking around. It was stupid to be paranoid. Not only was it ridiculously loud with the rushing water and the galley kitchen on the other side of the wall, but there was no place for somebody to hide. “May I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“The other people on the crew… They hate me, don’t they?”

He straightened out, looking at you with a frown. “Would’ja hand me that wrench?” he asked, gesturing to his tools. You picked up the heavy wrench, handing it over. Marty hefted it, looking thoughtful, before turning back to the pipes. “Some of them aren’t too happy with Captain Buggy’s decisions, that’s it,” he said. “It’ll all be settled soon.”

“They think it would be better if I weren’t here,” you said bluntly. “I’ve caused a lot of trouble for everyone.”

Marty looked at you, his eyes intense. “Has somebody threatened you?”

“No, it’s just…” You frowned, thinking of the most diplomatic way to phrase it. “I think somebody hired men… Two weeks ago in Lafitte, I was… Attacked.”

“Pippa told me about that. But it was the Surgeon who sent ‘em, wasn’t it?”

“Captain Buggy says it was,” you agreed. “You know, to get to him. He says I shouldn’t worry about it, but I don’t… It’s not that I disagree with him, just that I’m not sure. Dad—the Surgeon—I don’t think he would want to kill me.” You rolled your dry lip between your teeth, your shoulders tense. Thinking of that hurt. Thinking about the fear, thinking you were going to die, getting hit. It hurt. “And I don’t know who else would have done something like that.”

“You think somebody on the crew hired men to kill you?” Marty asked, leaning in to talk in a hushed voice despite the circumstances. “Girly, what you’re suggesting is…” He shook his head. “If somebody on the crew hired a hit on you, Captain Buggy’ll kill ‘em.”

“I know,” you said, wincing at the idea. “I’m not accusing anyone. It’s just that I’ve got a feeling like… Captain Buggy doesn’t believe me, and I don’t know who else to ask.”

“You sure they were hired, not just a couple of thugs?”

“They said they were. I remember…” You swallowed hard. Thinking of that night was difficult, it made your hands shake and something very cold and mean swell up in your chest. You covered up the crusted scar on your neck with your hand, protecting it. “They said they were told to make it look like an accident.”

“What did they look like?”

“One of them was really tall,” you said. “The other had a gold tooth.”

“You’re absolutely certain of that?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, girly. I’ll ask around for you, as long as you keep out of trouble, okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

He smiled fondly. “Anyone who doesn’t like you clearly just doesn’t know you yet.”

Out of everything, that took you aback. You had the wild impulse to hug him, and you might have done so if you weren’t holding the lamp. Instead you just blinked away the sting of tears. “Thank you.”

“I mean it,” he said, returning to his work. “If nothing else, you’re a nice change of scenery from the rest of these crusty bastards.”

“Oh, come on,” you said, smiling despite knowing he was just being nice. “Pippa is the prettiest person I’ve ever known.”

Marty nodded. “Yeah, if you like the type of broad that’ll step on your balls.”

“Ba—oh, that’s horrible!” you stuttered out, laughing in surprise at the crass comment.

“It is,” Marty agreed emphatically. “Some blokes enjoy it, but I like a softer type of girl.”

You cleared your throat, suddenly not as sure that he was joking about Pippa. “Yeah, I-I don’t think I’d like that either.”

He laughed and shook his head, checking through all the pipes to make sure none of the others needed repair. After he finished that, he put the wrench back into his tool bag and pushed the metal plate back into place.

“Um, Marty?” you said, a sudden and very important thought coming to mind. “If you find anything out, I think… Captain Buggy wouldn’t like it if he knew I told you, you know? So if you wouldn’t mind not telling him that, if you can, I… I don’t want him to get upset.”

“Don’t worry about that, girly. Mum’s the word,” Marty said, rolling up his tools and slinging them over his shoulder. “Well then, shall we go back up?”

You followed Marty up the ladder into the berth before mustering the courage to ask.

“Does Pippa really step on men’s… you know.”

Marty looked at you for a second before bursting out laughing. You weren’t sure why the question was funny, but he had a way of laughing that made you want to laugh too. It wasn’t like he was laughing at you, just that he was generally jovial.

“You oughta ask her,” he told you when that died down, patting your shoulder.

The two of you parted ways there and the weather was still awful when you got to the upper deck, but you felt lighter.

It was around the same time the next day that you sat in Buggy’s office while he argued with his officers in the map room. Granted, arguments with Captain Buggy were usually more of a one-sided thing. It was severe enough of a discussion that you could hear several raised voices through the door separating the map room and his office, not just his.

Another day of bad weather meant another day of unhappy pirates and another cold afternoon spent shivering and with a horrible headache. The weather was, apparently, the point of main contention for them too. Rain really put a damper on acts of piracy.

You sat very still as you waited, your mind drifting. Buggy had been too tired to keep you up very late last night, but you had slept poorly. Rather than having nightmares about the past, you had dream after dream of Captain Buggy getting angry with you, and the anxiety hadn’t faded throughout the day. Crina said you would upset him again, that it was inevitable. Even if you didn’t do anything, you would disappoint him. That was the only reliable thing you could do.

If the weather weren’t so miserable, maybe you would have been able to pull yourself out of that particular spiral, but it wasn’t, and you couldn't. Instead, you sat with your shoulders curled inwards, your hands folded in your lap. It was better to not think about anything at all.

“You’re dismissed,” Buggy eventually exclaimed, his voice raised enough to get your attention. You could hear his irritation, and then he threw the doors into his office open loud enough that you nearly jumped out of your chair, and you could see his irritation. “Get out, all of you,” Buggy demanded when they didn’t immediately leave. You stood up, instinctively obeying that tone of voice, but he gave you a look. “Not you. You stay.”

For a moment, you saw the group in the other room as they left. Mohji was there, of course. Without Richie. You hadn’t seen much of the lion at all, he probably liked the rain as much as any other cat. Crina was unmistakable with her dark hair and loose dark clothes, but she was turned away so you couldn’t smile at her.

You hadn’t seen much of Crina recently. Buggy got irritated whenever you mentioned spending time with her. He didn’t say what she did to earn his ire, and you weren’t going to ask, but you hoped they made up soon.

The door better his office and the map room slammed shut, abruptly halting that thought. Buggy crossed the room and collapsed into his chair with his head resting on his hand and eyes shut. You stared at him in an attempt to get a read on his mood, but you couldn’t. He sounded upset, but now he looked tired. You had no idea what to expect or say.

After what felt like an uncomfortable lifetime of waiting, Buggy raised his head, rolling his neck with a big groan, stretching his arms out.

“Captain Buggy?” you ventured. “Are you alright?”

He looked at you, and then he winced dramatically. “Agh, don't look at me like that. It makes me feel bad for what I’m about to do to you.”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“I mean that you’re gonna take off whatever you’re wearing under that skirt and come over here so I can relieve a little stress. Do you have any idea what it’s like to be surrounded by idiots all day?”

You stared at him, hoping that he would laugh and say it was a joke. But he didn’t.

“C’mon, hurry it up.” Buggy snapped his fingers to make his point.

When his eyes were hard like that, you knew arguing was a bad idea. You swallowed down your nerves and nodded, quickly circling around his desk.

“What did I say?” he asked, exasperated. “All of this,” he gestured to your legs, “off. Now.”

“Sir, these… I’m wearing tights, I can’t just take them off.”

He sighed angrily.

“But that’s fine,” you said before he could get upset, stepping out of your boots and bracing your feet for the chilly floor. Buggy watched you shimmy out of your tights and underwear. There was no sensual way to do it. The best you could manage was to get it all done without revealing yourself, leaving a rolled up bunch of fabric laying over your boots before standing up.

“Sweater too,” he said, taking off his gloves.

You hesitated. “Captain, it’s… it’s really cold in here and I’m...”

All he had to do was go still, looking at you with a gruesome almost-smile, to make you realize how serious he was. Wanting very badly to appease him, you crossed your arms and pulled your sweater off over your head. Your nipples were already painfully stiff from the cold, poking against the flimsy fabric of your camisole. You thought, given the heavy fabric of the sweater, it would be okay if you didn’t wear a bra. Now it just felt lewd, like you had been expecting something would happen.

“You always make me feel so bad about this,” Buggy said, grabbing you and pulling you to stand between his legs. “Like I’m deflowering you all over again. Which, sure it’s, okay yeah, it’s a little hot, but I’d love it if you could just let it happen for once.”

“It’s embarrassing,” you muttered, unable to look at him.

“You don’t look embarrassed,” he said, shoving your camisole up over your chest. “Shit, you are cold, huh? Does it hurt when they get that hard or… Whatever.” The cruel brush of cool air and Buggy’s attention made you squirm uncomfortably, but all you could do was hold onto his shoulders, squeezing your eye shut. The warmth of his mouth on your nipple made you gasp loudly. It felt good, even if you tried to ignore the sensation, even if it would be so much better if you could control yourself. No matter how humiliated you were, your body responded to him.

Buggy’s other hand delved beneath your skirt, pressing between your legs to force them apart before following the unobstructed path upward. When you squirmed, anxiously pressing your thighs together to stop him, his teeth dug into the sensitive flesh around your nipple.

You yelped in surprise as much as pain, but his arm around your waist kept you where he wanted. Giving up on escape, you clamped a hand over your face while he laughed.

“I wouldn’t worry about the noise thing,” Buggy said, half muffled against your chest. “You sound like you’re getting railed when you’re having trouble getting your boots on, I doubt they can tell the difference.”

“That hurt,” you said.

“You love it,” Buggy said. He didn’t give you any time to respond before he switched to the other nipple. No matter what he said, you didn’t love the biting, but the softness of his tongue, you liked that. You liked that a lot.

Enough that when his palm landed flat between your thighs with a harsh slap, you were too relaxed to have any level of defense from the harsh pain.. Your sharp, piercing yelp filled his office, quickly followed by his laughter.

“That was louder than I thought it would be,” Buggy said, amused. You whimpered, squirming uncomfortably. “You know, sweetheart, it’s awful hard to believe you don’t like pain when you make noises like that.”

“Captain Buggy, that hurt,” you said, although the most distressing feeling was the sense of betrayal. You didn’t understand why he slapped you. You had done everything he asked, it didn’t seem fair.

Rather than give any explanation, his fingers curled, gently tracing the seam between your pussy’s outer lips until he could skim over your clit. Your body unintentionally rocked forward, your breath catching.

“Aw poor little babydoll,” he said, zeroing in on your clit to rub tight little circles. You knew better than to try to close your legs, so you went up, standing on your toes in an attempt to escape him. Buggy’s hand just followed you. “Does the mean, mean pirate mistreat you? You’d think you’d be used to that by now.”

“Stop, please,” you whimpered, shaking your head. To your relief, he did stop, his hand retreating from under your skirt. You relaxed, your feet falling flat on the floor. “Thank you.”

When you tried to step away from him, Buggy pulled you back with a fistful of your skirt. “You didn’t think we were done, did you?” he teased, spitting onto his hand before it returned between your legs.

“Captain Buggy, please,” you begged, although you were too afraid he might slap you again to try and physically stop him. Slick now, his fingers were able to glide over your clit, pressing just hard enough to make you shake.

“Would it kill you to admit how much you love this?” he asked. “What’s the point in pretending, babydoll? Just say it.”

“Say… what?” you asked softly, unable to meet his eye.

“How much you want this,” Buggy said. “You probably spend your whole day thinking about what you want me to do to you, praying that Captain Buggy will give you even a scrap of attention. No wonder you ditched the bra, you were hoping this would happen.”

“No, I-I didn’t,” you said, too overwhelmed by the embarrassment and pleasure as he continued to rub your clit to come up with any convincing response. Being touched shut your brain off, it was all you could think about.

“No, Captain Buggy,” Buggy said in a high pitched voice, mimicking you. “I would never think dirty things, I’m an innocent little angel!”

You heaved a big, unhappy breath, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “That’s not what I-” Your objection cut off abruptly with a breathy moan, a sound of surprise when his fingers abandoned your clit to suddenly slam into you.

Buggy laughed loudly and there was nothing you could really say to make a case for yourself, the moan proved his point better than anything else. Buggy settled for that, pulling your chest back to his face so he could take your nipple in his mouth. That drew a shocked moan out of you, your hips bucking against his hand as his fingers slowly pulled out.

“Captain Buggy,” you said, meaning it as a protest. It didn’t really sound like a protest.

He bit you again, his teeth digging into the soft flesh around your nipple like he had on the other. You yelped, trying to escape, but he held you in place. The only thing you accomplished was rocking back and forth, fucking yourself on his fingers. He laughed again, the sound vibrating against your chest as he soothed the sore skin with his tongue.

“Hurts!” you whined. “Please, it… it really…” You couldn’t keep talking, having to bite your lip as he curled his fingers. Maddeningly massaging them against your g-spot until your thighs trembled, your pussy dripping around his hand.

“I noticed something,” Buggy said, pulling away from your chest with an uncomfortably wet sound. “I know girls are sensitive here,” he curled his fingers against the spongy spot to illustrate his point, dragging a pathetic sort of whimper out of your throat, “but you… It’s like an instant win button, I push it and you get wetter.” He repeated the motion, smiling in amusement at your body’s uncontrollable reaction. “I can feel you getting wetter. It really makes me wonder if you were ever meant to be anything other than a glorified flesh light.”

You covered your face with your hands, burning with shame. And arousal. You couldn’t manage them both, they just existed in complete and agonizing contrast to each other, rendering you stupid and mute. “Please stop, Captain Buggy,” you muttered.

“Why? Don’cha wanna come, babydoll?”

You lowered your hand, peeking at him through your eyelashes. As soon as you did, he slammed his fingers into you. Once, twice, three times and then-

“Beg me.”

You opened your mouth to try and get something out, although your mind was too scrambled to know what it would be.

Somebody knocked.

Buggy’s hand froze, his body going stiff. Panicked by the sound, you squirmed, trying to fix your clothes, but he pinched your nipple to force you still. Both of your breasts had indents of his teeth, even the slightest touch elicited a sharp sort of pain.

The person knocked again.

Buggy closed his eyes. “Go away,” he shouted, a growl in his voice.

“Sir? It’s an important matter,” Pippa called through the door.

Pippa?

Buggy seemed curious as well, leaning back.

“How important?” he asked.

“Very important, sir,” someone else called. Was that Marty? “It’s mutiny, sir.”

Buggy’s hand retreated from between your legs, and he didn’t stop you from pulling your camisole down.

“Fine. Come in,” Buggy snapped, grabbing you around the middle and pulling you into his lap as he sat back. You tensed up, trying to wriggle away, but he didn’t let you go. It was easier to not fight it, to curl into him to hide the way your nipples pushed against the camisole.

Pippa came in, Marty close behind.

“You said mutiny?” Buggy asked.

“Yes, Captain Buggy, I—” Marty cut himself off upon seeing you, averting his gaze.

“Spit it out,” Buggy said, like you weren’t in a compromising and humiliating position. When you squirmed in discomfort, his grip on you tightened a little, just enough to make you wince. “Pretend she’s not here.”

“She told me about getting attacked while we were in Lafitte,” Pippa said, which was, you were pretty sure, a lie. Was this Marty’s plan to get around Buggy’s ire? It was true that Buggy liked Pippa, he probably wouldn’t mind if you told her about what happened. “I didn’t know anything about guys like that, so I asked Marty if he knew anything.”

“Pippa mentioned a fella with a gold tooth and his tall buddy,” Marty said. “That rung a bell ‘cause I lost some money to a pair of guys just like that a few weeks back. I didn’t know they took hits, but it doesn’t surprise me neither. They’re real street thugs, the kind you ask to rough up your ex wife or to get the guy who cheated you playing cards.”

“They were thugs,” Buggy corrected. “I doubt they’re much of anything after what I did to ‘em.”

“Yes, sir. The point is that I remembered they were pretty chummy with Ivo and them. When I started pokin’ around asking if anyone owed money to ‘em or whatnot, the bastard damn near socked me.”

“So?” Buggy raised an impatient eyebrow.

“And then I asked Ivo,” Pippa said.

“Did he punch you too?” Buggy asked dryly.

“No, he told me that he paid these two guys to kill her and make it look like an accident.”

You went stiff.

“Are you sure that’s what he said?” Buggy asked.

“Yes, and men don’t lie to me,” Pippa said, grinning in a way that made you fully believe that assertion.

Buggy nodded, considering that information. “This is all very interesting,” he said after a tense moment, “but I’m curious as to where this initiative came from.” He gave you an accusatory look, his eyes full of the anger you feared. It didn’t matter if Ivo had done it, you had gone behind his back instead of accepting what he told you. Of course he would be mad, you knew better.

“You asked me to keep an eye on her, Captain,” Pippa cut in before you could think of a way to explain. “And what I’ve noticed is that Ivo’s been keeping an eye on her too.”

Buggy frowned. You could see him thinking about it, maybe trying to decide if he was going to be mad at you or not. After a moment, he made an angry sound, gritting his teeth.

“Alright. Let's get this over with. I want everybody on the deck,” Buggy ordered, pointing at Marty. “Make sure Pin’s ready just in case and, oh yeah, make sure Ivo’s there, blondie.”

“Yes, sir,” they both said, leaving.

Buggy unceremoniously dropped you out of his lap, standing up. “Can’t a clown catch a goddamn break? I swear, just one thing after another.”

He pulled his hair out from the kerchief so he could pull it into two tails and let it hang through his hat. That, more than anything, made you realize how serious this was. Even while arguing with his officers, he had been dressed down. But now he was going to go out there as Captain Buggy.

Marty said that if somebody hired a hit on you, they would die.

While you put on your sweater, Buggy pulled on his coat, straightening it with angry, rough movements. You struggled, putting tights back on was even more difficult than getting them off.

“And you know what?” Buggy continued to mutter under his breath, talking more to himself than to you. “I knew that there was something weird about those guys. It makes no sense that the Surgeon would send a coupla hack thugs after me. I’d have seen it if I didn’t have so much other shit to deal with. But he is dead wrong if he thinks he can make a fool out of me. Tryna steal my shit, spitting on my generosity.” Buggy pulled his gloves on and left, ignoring your continued struggle trying to get your clothes sorted out.

Giving up on the tights, you just dug your panties out of the rolled up wad of fabric, pulling them up your legs and shoving your feet into your boots without socks, scrambling to follow him through the map room and onto the deck.

Marty had rung the bell, so most of the crew was already gathered. Most of them were familiar faces. Mohji, Newt, you even saw Crina, wrapped in a purple shawl with her arms crossed.

The rain had stopped, retreating into an uncomfortable mist. The violating chill almost made you turn back around to put your tights on, but you didn’t want to miss anything.

Or maybe you did.

“Ivo, just the guy I was looking for!” Buggy called as he went down the steps from the quarter deck, his voice aggressively friendly. You followed behind him, shrinking away when Ivo cast a quick look in your direction. No matter how much he disliked you, it was hard to believe that he would want you dead. That was such an extreme, it didn’t make sense.

“Captain Buggy,” Ivo acknowledged, “what can I do for you?”

“How are those friends of yours holding up?”

“Sir?”

“Two guys, like to attack girls for money… That’s not ringing a bell? One of ‘em had a gold tooth. Last I saw, they were in rough shape.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ivo, buddy,” Buggy said, walking towards the man. “I like you. I’ve always liked you. That whole face situation you’ve got is hilarious. So I’m gonna ask you again, and you’re gonna tell me the truth. Did you or did you not hire two guys to steal something that belongs to me?”

Ivo looked at Pippa. “You told him, didn’t you.” He said, not a question.

Pippa shrugged unapologetically, a little cold. You thought about what Marty said about her, and when she looked like that, you could believe it. “She’s my friend.”

“I hired professionals to take care of a problem,” Ivo said, looking at Buggy. “That girl’s got you under some sort of spell, she has ever since the beginning. I was the only one willing to do something about it.”

“So… yes, you did,” Buggy summarized. He sighed. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

“Captain Buggy, please wait,” you cried, rushing forward.

“Not now,” he snapped.

“Don’t kill him, please,” you begged quietly. “If he thought that it was…that he had to do this for the safety of the crew and for you, then he didn’t really think he was doing something wrong. Killing him maybe will… if other people feel the same, it will just…” Make them hate you more.

Buggy gave you a hard look, his expression unreadable. He turned away, addressing the gathered crowd. “Does anybody else have something to say?” he called. “Maybe you agree with Ivo here. No? Anybody?” Nobody said anything, not even a breath shuddered through the humid air. Buggy laughed, looking at Ivo. “How’s that for a laugh? If you had a point and she had me under her spell, you wouldn’t be a dead man right now. Thing is, this has nothing to do with her. You tried to take something of mine.”

“That runt of yours is a curse,” Ivo said. “I was doing you a favor.”

Buggy looked behind Ivo at a man you only vaguely recognized, a big guy whose face was pierced in just about every place it could be. He seemed to be ready for the order, looming dangerously at the edge of the crowd. Clicking his tongue, Buggy made a motion like a knife across his throat.

It happened so quickly that Ivo barely had time to try to escape before the larger man had him, grabbing him into a choke hold from behind. Buggy held Ivo’s eye as he approached him, stopping only just out of arm's length. The hatred and fury blazing in Ivo’s eyes promised every pain and horror, and Buggy smiled at him.

“Looks like it’s time for your final bow,” Buggy said.

The man holding Ivo rammed a sword through his chest to punctuate the comment. Ivo couldn’t make any sounds other than these stuttered, ugly, guttural noises as his windpipe was crushed. With a meaty twist, the man pulled the blade out of his chest. A bright red stain bloomed over Ivo’s shirt as he twitched and fought like a bug in a spider’s web. No matter how hot or bright his rage, it was a losing battle.

He dropped with a loud thump onto the deck a moment later, either dead or heading there fast. You didn’t know if that was from getting stabbed in the heart or from suffocation.

The pirates watched it all in complete silence, their faces stoic. The man, the executioner who you were pretty sure was called Pin, sheathed his blade and stepped back to rejoin the crew on the edge of the empty space acting as a stage.

Buggy walked forward, stepping over Ivo’s body to address his crew.

“My freaks,” he called, clasping his hands together. “I hope you all learned a valuable lesson here, but don’t let this unfortunate incident take your minds off of what truly matters. What we have before us is a golden opportunity. You all have been given the honor of being in a show that will make or break your career. And why? Because we’re not performing for some random nobodies. I’ve gotten us an audience worthy of my talents. And if this show does well, it’s not just my name and face that gets out there. It’s the Buggy Pirates that’ll be feared across all of the East Blue.”

Buggy paused for applause. Just a few responded at first, clapping and whooping, but soon everybody joined in, the noise pressing inwards, as thick and dense as the heavy, sticky humidity.

“Ivo here?” Buggy continued when they quieted down. “He didn’t understand the bigger picture. He doubted me. He didn’t trust that I know best.” Somebody in the crowd booed at that. “Weak men like him are poison to the artistic process, and he would have poisoned all of your small minds before I got the chance to show you the truth that art reveals. Not all of you will understand. Some of you will shy away in fear of what I’m offering. You may even reject my greatness the way Ivo and all the others have.”

Buggy let that threat hang as he walked around the edge of the crowd in a slow arc, looking at everybody individually as if daring them to reveal themselves as dissidents. Some of the crew met his eye, some of them bowed their heads, but nobody dared to speak. He came to a stop in the center, his back turned to Ivo’s body.

“Only the exceptional can understand the magnificence of my vision,” Buggy said with open arms, his tone warming with the fervor of exaltation, like it was a preacher’s promise. “Only those of you with open minds and hearts can share in the rewards that I’m offering. This show is your chance to prove to me that you are special. Don’t disappoint me.”

His arms dropped, the bubble that kept the deck silent as he spoke popping as the crowd digested that promising threat.

“Oh, and, somebody take care of this,” Buggy said, gesturing towards Ivo’s body with a look of disgust. He didn’t linger on it, stepping over the pooling blood to return to the quarter deck. “Babydoll,” Buggy snapped when you didn’t immediately follow. He clicked his tongue, nodding towards his office.

You, of course, did as he wanted.

Buggy didn’t pay you any mind even after the two of you were alone in his office again, taking off his coat and hat, pulling his hair back to slip under the kerchief. It gave the odd sense of a costume change after a performance.

Some performance.

The death of a man who would have gladly killed you shouldn’t have been so unsettling. It wasn’t. You didn’t care. It was fine.

“That was a really good speech, Captain Buggy,” you said, nervously shifting from foot to foot as you tried to understand his mood.

He sat down behind his desk, taking off his gloves. “Don’t just stand there looking stupid,” he said, “we’ve got unfinished business.”

“What?” you asked.

“You know what I’m talking about,” Buggy said, rolling his eyes. “You can either take off your clothes and get over here or I’ll have to get up and go aaaaall the way over there. After the day I’ve had, even I don’t know what I’ll do when I get there.”

“I… Um.” You stared at Buggy, wordlessly begging him to laugh, to make this a twisted joke. He couldn’t be serious. You just watched him order a man’s execution. The sounds Ivo made as he died kept repeating in your ears.

Buggy groaned loudly, standing up. “Well, you can’t say I didn’t warn ya,” he said, approaching you with long strides.

“No, I-I’ll do it!” you told him, trying to prove yourself by pulling your sweater off. Buggy ripped it out of your hands and tossed it aside, pushing you back until you hit the wall. You grunted as much in pain as surprise, your head knocking against it.

Buggy didn’t give you any time to reorient yourself, pushing you up the wall so he wouldn’t have to hunch over to kiss you. Well. Kiss was a bit generous. He licked your lips, pushing his tongue into your mouth as soon as you let him. You whimpered, your thighs squeezing his waist so you didn’t fall. If his stormy mood wasn’t obvious otherwise, the way he kissed you was proof enough. The wet messiness didn’t bother you as much as the possessive way his tongue claimed your mouth, his teeth biting your lips without any consideration for your comfort. It felt violating, it wasn’t affection, it was a point he wanted to prove.

Groaning, Buggy palmed your breast, reminding you of his earlier rough treatment. If it wasn’t already, the bite mark around your nipple would bruise. It hurt enough to make you squirm, shying away from the pain. He let it be, his hand pushing upward, settling around your neck.

That was fine at first, but then he squeezed.

You immediately panicked, pushing at his shoulders. It was hard enough to breathe when he was kissing you so aggressively. Now, he pulled away and you still couldn’t get enough air, squirming and then bucking against him. For a wild, horrible second, you thought about Ivo choking. Buggy watched you intently, the color of his eyes lost for the cruelty as he observed your panic.

When he finally let up, you gasped raggedly, tears sliding down your cheek. He watched those too, his lips parted and pupils blown wide.

“Say it again,” Buggy told you.

Your eyebrows furrowed, confused, your mind swimming with the flush of oxygen.

“Tell me again,” he pushed, almost petulantly demanding. “Say it, c’mon.”

“I love you,” you told him as soon as you realized what he wanted.

That seemed like the right answer because Buggy kissed you again, sweeter now. Needful. Desperately so. You held onto his shoulders, kissing him back in the hopes that he would stop being so mean. When he pulled out away, it was to kiss the corner of your mouth and then down across your jaw, his nose bumping your cheek.

“You’d be nothing without me,” he said, the words muffled by your neck. “You need me.”

“I do,” you agreed, your voice coming out choked.

Wrapping both arms around you to support your weight, Buggy turned around, carrying you forward to deposit you onto the end of his desk. You fell onto your back, your spine hitting the surface painfully.

“Captain Buggy?” you asked, wincing in pain. “What’re you… That hurt.”

“No it didn’t. You’re fine,” he said, throwing your skirt up over your waist and roughly dragging your panties off. You didn’t have time to push your skirt down or hide your nudity with your hands before he grabbed your legs and pried them apart, leaning forward so he could spit on your pussy. It had to be just to embarrass you, considering the way he watched your face as he did it.

You whined, closing your eye and letting your head drop back, kicking yourself a million times for not doing what he wanted in the first place and sparing yourself all of this. Buggy laughed, pushing his saliva into your pussy, his fingers dipping in just enough to make your hips twitch. You heard fabric move as he shoved his pants out of the way, and then his cock was pressing against your folds.

“Do you think I’ll feel bad if you pout enough?” he asked, pressing the head of his dick against your entrance just to tease you, to keep you on edge. “‘Cause, I’ll be honest, it’s having the opposite effect.”

“That’s not-” Your words cut off with a broken whimper when he finally stopped teasing and pushed his cock into you. Too much at once, especially when you weren't expecting it. You whined again, squeezing your eye shut.

“Hey, look at me.” Buggy told you, leaning over you with one hand holding your leg and the other returning to your neck.

You met his eyes, your own widening as he pushed all the way into you with hard little thrusts. No matter how many times you had sex, you always felt a sort of disbelief to feel so full. To be joined in such an intimate way. It was surprising. Shocking. Profane.

He pulled out smoothly before thrusting forward hard, tightening his hand around your neck at the same time. It choked out any noise you might have made, literally stealing your breath away as you tried to inhale past the vice of his hand. The position wasn’t as intimate as he usually favored, the iron bar of his arm keeping you pressed against the desk like a pinned butterfly.

Just when your panic was getting intense enough to become genuine dread, his hand relaxed, letting you breathe. The second the air filled your lungs, refreshing your system, he began to fuck you at a mean, rough pace. It wasn’t like anything you had ever felt. The devilish mixture of your body coming alive with sensation after being numbed by the lack of air and the violent pleasure of his cock slamming into you with hard, slapping thrusts had you practically convulsing beneath him.

“You actually like this,” Buggy said, his voice hoarse and ragged but distinctly amused. “Freak.” His hand flexed around your throat, choking you again.

Thrown back into a disoriented, panicking mess, you clawed at his arm. Buggy didn’t acknowledge that, picking up the same hard, dirty pace as before. Darkness crawled into the edges of your vision, eating everything else away except for Buggy above you, inside of you.

On the brink of losing yourself, Buggy’s hand relaxed. When oxygen flushed through your body, it came with an intoxicating rush of pleasure like you had never felt. The skin on skin slapping became more of a wet smack seemingly with every thrust, your pussy leaking around his cock, squeezing him desperately with the same painfully tight coil the rest of your body responded with. It was like being held on the edge of orgasm because it wasn’t enough, but you felt the same rush, the same warm break of heat as when you came, just without the actual final high.

Buggy cursed roughly as his hips slowed, gritting his teeth as if in pain.

He squeezed your neck, once again denying you breath. You shut your eye, your back trying to arch, your hands scrambling to get ahold of his arm. This time, he released you quickly, letting you get in a breath so he could hear your choked cry when you felt his fingers between your legs. Buggy didn’t need his whole hand to scrub hard, dirty circles against your clit, two fingers detaching and settling against the sensitive bud. Each hard thrust did a lot of the work for him, grinding them against you.

It was too much to worry about the noise you were making. If you had the capacity to speak, to breathe, you'd have told him the extra bit of stimulation was too much. Your body couldn’t contain the buzzing thrum of pleasure, your nerves aflame as they were numbed and stoked.

Buggy returned to the earlier harsh pace, and you panicked. There was no rhyme or reason to the way he controlled your breathing, pushing you to the dark edge of oblivion before pulling you back into the hyperphysical reality of pleasure.

“Can you just come already?” Buggy asked, his voice grinding out between his teeth. You could barely hear him, let alone comprehend the meaning of his words.

He relaxed his hand around your neck and, with a desperate, ragged inhale and fresh rush of overstimulating heat that made you sob, you came, your hips curling up to feel him deeper, to get more out of the fingers on your clit. It wasn’t just your pussy, or that little coil of tension in your core, or even an entirely bodily experience. When you came, it was the crashing wave of exhilaration and nothing else.

The hand on your neck flexed before the rush faded, locking you back into your body and denying you the satisfaction of riding out that high. Maybe Buggy wasn’t even aware of it, too lost in reaching his own end, his fingers continuing to grind against your clit, his cock slamming into you so hard it hurt.

You choked, pleasure giving way to fear, and the world went black, consumed by nothingness.

Dark confusion obscured everything and, for years or days or seconds, you had the odd impression that somebody from very far away was calling your name, that you were in your room, and that—

Gasping, you opened your eye, that unsettling confusion drifting into a new type of confusion as quickly as it came, your brain swimming beneath a gauzy blanket of unreality. Just like that, you were back in the intense cage of your own body, gasping and whining as Buggy finished with a couple of hard, deep thrusts. Your pussy squeezed him despite its shivery, overwhelming sensitivity in the wake of flooding oxygen, responding to his pleasure in kind.

When he was done, the fingers he’d left on your clit returned to his hand so he could brace himself on the desk, and there was just heavy, hot breathing in the wake of something that probably seemed a lot more dramatic than it actually was.

“Fucking… fuck,” Buggy said, his eyes closed. He laughed breathlessly, hoarsely. “That was…”

Your lips parted to say something, but nothing came out.

He opened his eyes, looking down at you. “You look wrecked,” he said. Considering the dozens of little blue flyaways coming out from under the kerchief wrapped around his head, the glossy shine of sweat on his face, and the deep flush painting his cheeks and lips red, you didn’t think it was fair to say that only you looked wrecked.

Buggy used the hand on your neck to nudge your face up so he could kiss your open mouth before he pulled out, letting you wilt back onto the desk. Laying with your body mostly on the hard surface and your legs hanging off the edge wasn’t comfortable, but you didn’t want to move. You closed your eye, just trying to compose yourself. That moment of unconsciousness had been jarring, a little sickening. In the post-orgasm haze, you had a very uncomfortable and terrifying feeling like nothing was real. Or maybe that was wishful thinking?

You heard Buggy fix his clothes before grabbing a bottle to loudly gulp down swallow after swallow of water.

You breathed in, and then out, and finally got your arms beneath yourself to sit up because the only thing more uncomfortable than moving was the dryness in your mouth and throat.

“Captain Buggy, may I-” you tried to ask. About half of the question got out before you erupted into a huge coughing fit. It hurt to cough, and you could feel his cum leaking out of your sore pussy with each one, but you couldn’t make yourself stop. Your body was trying to expel the obstruction of his hand, not being able to tell the difference between pressure and choking.

“Jeez,” Buggy said. “Try not to hack up a lung.”

You shook your head, trying to reassure him that you were okay, but you couldn’t get anything out other than the wretched, ragged coughing. You watched through a teary eye as Buggy approached you, patting your back in an odd attempt to help. When you stopped coughing, he helped you drink from his bottle with a mockingly indulgent, “Now there’s a good girl.” You didn’t care. The praise, mean or not, made you feel better.

When you were done, you fell forward against him. “Thank you, Captain Buggy,” you said, regardless of your wrecked voice.

He pet the top of your head awkwardly. “Yeah, sure thing, kiddo.”

You sat up and he dropped into his chair with a big, satisfied umph, falling back into it like he was completely spent. Clearing your sandpaper throat, you got off the desk, wincing at the feeling of more cum leaking out of your pussy. Sweat covered your entire body, uncomfortably gathering on your hairline and beneath your skirt’s waistband. It made the cool air that much worse. You looked around for your clothes. Your sweater had been thrown to the other side of the room, your tights were by his desk somewhere, your panties were nowhere to be seen, and you were still wearing your boots without any socks.

Deciding your sweater was the most important thing to ward off the chill, you took a step in that direction. Buggy grabbed your wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

You looked at him, confused.

He raised an eyebrow. “Get your scrawny ass over here, you look like you’re gonna pass out.” He raised his arms, sitting up to make room for you. Right then, you could have wept out of relief at the offer, your jelly legs taking you to sit in his lap. “Wait, tuck your skirt, I don’t want your mess on my pants.”

It was technically his mess, but you didn’t say so. It didn’t really matter. Smoothing your skirt beneath yourself, you sat sideways on his lap.

Buggy wrapped an arm around you, his other hand rubbing circles on your hip, your waist, your stomach. You didn’t expect the pain when he palmed your breast, catching your nipple between his fingers. The bite mark really did hurt. You whimpered, your body unintentionally writhing back against him.

“Already?” he asked. “Give a guy a break, sheesh. I need a minute before I do that again.”

You made an unhappy noise, burying your face against his chest. Buggy laughed, petting your head. “I was joking. I don’t have time. I need to make sure that my freaks are ready, Cabaji’s coming in tonight so we can finalize our plans,” Buggy told you. “We’re gonna take Saline first thing in the morning.”

“Will it be very dangerous?” you asked.

“It’ll be easy. They’ve got, what, three hundred people? There’s a reason the Surgeon picked this place.”

“He didn’t set up any security to protect it?” you asked.

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

“How?”

“Why do you care?” he asked. “It’s not like you can help, your only job is to wait on the ship and not cause any more trouble.”

Heeding his dangerous tone, you put your head back against his chest. “Yes, Captain Buggy.”

The rain returned later that evening. Everybody was saying it would be cleared up by the next day, but that meant the pirates had to get everything ready dripping wet and cold. Most of them didn’t seem to mind it as much after Buggy’s speech. Although one of their own was dead, the crew seemed more invigorated than ever to perform at their best.

You weren’t asked to greet Cabaji when he came in, but you heard some of the others saying that the Chief of Staff was approaching, and there wasn’t much in the way of help you could offer to the crew as they prepared for the attack, and you wanted to see him.

So you waited, hanging back beneath the overhang to stay dry, watching as the sloop Cabaji and his miniature crew had used was pulled up. Pirates crawled up onto the ship out of the dark, wet and miserable. Eventually, you saw the man you were looking for jump up onto the deck. It felt like years since you last saw the man, but he hadn’t changed. He directed a couple of the men this way and that with his usual terse mannerisms before stalking towards the main deck.

“Mr. Cabaji!” you called as you followed with your jacket over your head, excited to see the man even though your last parting wasn’t especially warm. He half turned towards you, his eyes narrowed and confused before recognition hit.

“Hello,” he said.

“It’s been a while,” you said. “I’m glad you’re back safe.”

“Thank you. Is Captain Buggy with you?”

“No, he’s… They’re all in the officer’s mess. I heard you were coming and so I wanted to say hello. It’s been forever.”

“It has been a while. You look different,” he said.

“Oh, because of my…” You subconsciously reached up to tug your bandana down, but it wasn’t there. “Sorry, I know it’s…”

“No, you look healthier,” he clarified.

“Really?” you asked, smiling. “I, um, thank you. How are you?”

“I’m fine,” he told you. “You said they’re in the officer’s mess?”

“Yeah, I have to get Captain Buggy’s supper but I thought… I wanted to say hello, before…” You didn’t want Buggy to see you greeting him. That’s what you were thinking, but you hated yourself for it. The only reason you would feel shame was if you had something to hide, but you didn’t, you just didn’t want to upset the captain when he was already so stressed.

Cabaji nodded, his expression unreadable. “Now that I’m back, there’s something you need to understand,” he said.

“What?”

“It is my duty to see to your wellbeing and safety. I will look after you because Captain Buggy ordered me to do so, not out of personal interest. Do you understand? Our relationship is strictly professional.”

You shifted your weight back, frowning. “I thought we were… friends.”

“We have sworn an oath of service to the same captain, that doesn’t make us friends.”

“Yeah, of-of course,” you said, nodding, forcing a smile. “Well, I-I’m glad you’re… I guess I should go get Captain Buggy’s supper. I’ll… see you down there.”

He nodded and you turned the other way to retreat into the galley through the middle hatch.

You were stupid. You felt stupid, you probably looked pretty stupid too. It shouldn’t have made you feel so bad that Cabaji would reject you, you shouldn’t have expected anything from him anyway. It wasn’t as if it was the first time you misinterpreted somebody’s kindness, or got carried away by your irrational feelings.

Still, you had to take a moment to collect yourself before bringing Buggy’s meal into the officer’s mess.

It was fine.

You were fine.

Shaking your damp hair to try and look a little less like a wet rat, you entered the room. It looked the same as it always did, colorfully decorated and festive. The pirates hung around juggling, playing cards, or talking loudly. Richie was impressing two of them with his uncanny ability to catch food out of the air.

Buggy sat in the middle of it all, of course, sprawled across a chair like a king. You placed his tray in front of him, studiously ignoring Cabaji as you sat at the captain’s side.

“Did’ja get lost or something?” Buggy asked.

“No, sir,” you muttered. “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever. Now that we’re all here,” Buggy said loudly to address the table, picking up his utensils. “Cabaji, where are we at with our doctor problem?”

The table’s attention turned to the Chief of Staff.

“He’s got a full crew,” Cabaji explained. “He’s supplemented the squad of crooked Marines that oversee this area with mercenaries. I give it a day before they’re here. Maybe a little more. The hostage situation will keep them from doing anything rash.”

“Which gives us enough time to get our audience ready,” Buggy said. “The rain’s been clearing up. We go in at first light, make it quick. As long as we can take the lab, we got the whole place for ourselves.”

“How much do we know about the town’s defenses?” Cabaji asked.

“They’re pathetic,” Buggy said. “It’s gonna be easy to get in and Fuse over there’ll take care of the rest.”

Cabaji nodded, and the conversation lapsed into other things as everyone else’s meals were served. You had very little appetite, but you picked at the food as something to distract yourself with.

“Hey, babydoll,” Buggy suddenly said, getting your attention. “Is there anything we need to know about daddy dearest before he gets here? He is the guest of honor, after all. I want to make sure he gets a properly warm welcome.”

Put on the spot, you froze, nervously looking around at the table. “He, um, he was a Major in the Marines,” you said, stammering. “The-the senior physician, you know, like, on a lot of high profile ships. But he’s retired.”

Buggy groaned. “No, no, no. I need things we don’t know. Tell me about who he is.”

“I don’t know,” you said, frowning. “About the drugs or anything, I… I had no idea.”

“You lived with the guy for your whole life and you don’t have anything useful to share?”

The disappointment in his voice scared you. There had to be something, anything that would be helpful. You bit your lip, thinking very hard.

“Oh! He drinks a lot. A lot, a lot,” you said, trying to smother the guilt you felt revealing Dad’s secrets. “So his hands shake a lot and he’s kind of unsteady sometimes when he walks. Also, he, um… He got injured when he was in the service. I don’t think he can fight anymore.”

“See? That’s good,” Buggy said. “What else?”

“There is something, but I don’t know how to… I was thinking about what he said. Barley’s harbor, Randall, me.” You looked up, meeting Buggy’s eyes. “Captain Buggy, you took everything from him.”

He grinned. “Good.”

“No, it’s…” You shook your head, trying to think of how to phrase it so he could understand the sickening pit of terror in your gut whenever you started to think about this.

“He’s obsessed with control,” Crina said. “You took that from him. That can be dangerous.”

“Oh, okay. By all means, feel free to chime in with your opinions,” Buggy said, half turning towards her.

“No, that’s-that’s true,” you said. “Crina knows.”

Buggy’s eyes narrowed. “Crina knows what?”

“About me,” you explained, caught off guard by the combative tone of his voice. “And, my-the Surgeon, how he is.”

“More than I do?” Buggy asked, raising an eyebrow. That was a dangerous question, one you didn’t want to answer.

“I might have a different perspective than you do,” Crina said.

“What’s that supposed to mean? You got some kinda girl-on-girl mind link? Women’s intuition?” he asked, looking between the two of you. “Wait!” Buggy snapped, pointing at Crina. “I know! You used your psychic mind powers on her. I hope you got consent before violating her like that. She’s sensitive.”

You flushed, embarrassed by his choice of words. “Captain Buggy, that’s not it,” you said, trying to smooth things over.

“But there is something,” he said, “you admit it.”

“No,” you tried to tell him, but Buggy wasn’t listening to you anymore, sitting up so he could face Crina directly.

“Isn’t she a bit young for you, Crina?” he asked.

“The only thing I’m interested in is her health,” Crina said.

“Wow, you sound just like her dad,” Buggy turned around to look at you. “Doesn’t she sound exactly like him, babydoll?”

You met his eye, your mouth opening to agree automatically, but nothing came out. The sudden turn of his mood and the accusation made your head spin. Of course she didn’t, but you couldn’t disagree with Buggy. You didn’t think you could even form the words.

Buggy burst out laughing, breaking the tension. “I’m just fucking with you. You really need to learn how to lighten up.”

Forcing yourself to untense, you tried to smile, to laugh it off. Crina hid her expression by taking a big drink out of something in a silvery flask.

“Can nobody take a joke around here?” Buggy asked, leaning back with a scowl.

Nobody said anything, the mood effectively killed by that outburst. Thankfully, the awkward silence was saved by the crashing entrance of one of Buggy’s pirates, stumbling into the room out of breath and panicked.

“Captain Buggy?” he called.

“What is it now?” Buggy snapped.

“You have a… The Surgeon is calling.”

“What’dya want?” Were Buggy’s first words into the mouthpiece. Apparently, the Den Den Mushi was something Cabaji had brought with him. For negotiations. The snail was wrapped up in a sweater to keep warm, seemingly content with his situation after getting fed. Buggy had it brought into his cabin for this conversation. He sat comfortably at his desk while you nervously perched on the bed, glad you didn’t eat very much because of the nausea squeezing your stomach.

“You know who I am?” Dad asked. It was just as strange to hear his voice coming out of the snail’s mouth now as it had been in Lafitte.

“‘Course I do, doc,” Buggy said. “My babydoll’s told me aaaaaall about you. I was wondering when you’d call. Normally I wouldn’t talk to my fans like this, but you’re special, eh?”

“You know why I’m calling?”

“Yeah. Duh.”

“I’ll make this quick, then. Give me the girl and that will be the end of this.”

That gave Buggy pause, it clearly wasn’t what he expected to hear. “What are you talking about?” he asked. “If I give her up, you’re going to, what, let me go? Don’t you know who I am?”

“I’m retired, I don’t care who you are. The fact of the matter is that you have stolen from me. If she is returned, I will withdraw. The Marines will, of course, pursue you further, but you will fare better against them without my support.”

Buggy’s excitement faded away to frustration, his angry eyes flicking up to you. You squirmed in discomfort, wanting to disappear all over again. “They just upped my bounty,” he said.

“I’m not concerned with money.”

“Oh, right. You’ve been doing some dirty deals, haven’t ya, pops? A real Doctor Feelgood. What did you swear when you got your degree, the hypocrite oath?”

“I’m not interested in your games, freak,” Dad said. “Is the girl with you? If she is, I would like to speak with her.”

Buggy scowled, glaring at you. “Say hi, sweetheart.”

“I’m here,” you said, your voice choked.

“You ought to know that Randall’s funeral was lovely, considering the circumstances,” Dad said. “He will be remembered and celebrated with respect and reverence, something he was denied in his death by the fiends you have run off with.”

“Hold on a second, doc,” Buggy said. “You’re way off the mark on this one. It wasn’t me or my crew that killed that idiot. Babydoll did that all on her own. Real gruesome too. When I slit someone’s throat, I like to make it quick, but she got in deep and started sawing. I tried to help move things along, but yeesh, it was hard to watch.”

Dad didn’t say anything, a silence as impactful as any amount of rage. You felt sick, blood rushing up into your head so fast it hurt. You didn’t want to think about that. You couldn’t.

“You see, pops, she understands that greatness demands sacrifice,” Buggy said. “She knew that if she was gonna make the cut to stand at my side, she needed to shed all of the dead weight.”

“She is my daughter,” Dad said. “It doesn’t matter what she wants. She is mine by right.”

“What right?” Buggy asked. “You can’t even make the whole dad claim anymore. With as much as we go at it she’s got more of me in her than you.”

“You can do what you will with her body,” Dad said, his voice deadly soft. “But she is not yours. When she returns to me, she won’t even remember you.”

“That’s funny, doc. I was gonna-” The line disconnected. “-say the same thing.” Buggy realized as soon as he was done speaking that Dad had hung up. He looked surprised, like he couldn’t believe that would happen.

You didn’t really care, that parting threat hit you with the force of a hammer. “What he said, it isn’t true,” you said, talking softly so your voice didn’t break. “No, that’s… He’s lying, Captain Buggy. Isn’t he? You won’t let him take me back.”

“Of course not,” Buggy said, replacing the mouthpiece with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “The old man must be losing his mind if he thinks I’ll let him get anywhere near you. That was all just talk anyway, there’s no way he wants you more than me.”

You nodded, trying to hold onto that assurance to calm yourself amidst the thousands of horrible, scary thoughts spinning in your head.

“Yeah,” Buggy grumbled, looking down with another scowl. “The old man is gonna lose a lot more than just his mind if he thinks he can get away with talking to me like that. Nobody talks to Buggy the Clown like that.” Abrupt as it came, his rage flashed away. Buggy looked up at you with a manic smile. “You were wrong, babydoll.”

“What?” you asked.

“I haven’t taken everything from him,” Buggy said. “But I will. I’m gonna be there the moment he realizes that I’ve got everything that he’s ever cared about in his whole worthless life. I don’t care what I have to do, he’s not gonna live to regret this.”

#opla buggy #opla buggy x reader #buggy x reader #one piece live action #buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #my writing #flashbang #not sfw #tw.dubcon #this one didn't come together the way i hoped ngl #but choking is so so so good

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cressthebest · 2 months

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Art Heist, Baby! thoughts pt. 10

chapter 28:

this is the heist chapter, so i’m just gonna make it its own post. it will be too long otherwise

1. james thinks that falling in love with regulus is the most exciting thing he’s ever done- more so than the literal heist. they’re so in love

2. hell yeaaaah babey! they even have the clothes sharing trope. regulus looks so small in james’ big t-shirt. fuck yeah

3. they’re all nervous and getting tea in the kitchen <3 they all get along and love each other. do NONE of them have melatonin tho??? babes, medically force yourself to sleep atp

4. peter swears barty’s snoring is so loud there is two people in there. 👀 evan perhaps??

5. i love mary and lily’s friendship so much. like, i love their background friendship in this fic so much. like, i cannot even use words to express how much i love it

6. remus and james fell in love with stars and it’s the most important thing about the heist to them. wait. hold up. i just.

7. “Anyone would be lucky to marry you, James Potter. Plus, I didn’t really think Regulus was the wear your t-shirt, fall asleep in your lap, dance on countertops, type either and yet, here he is.” sobbing. literally sobbing.

8. remus and james being best freinds in this fic instead of the typical sirius and james freindship is healing in ways i didn’t think would need healing. i am healed. they are forever going to be in each others lives.

9. sirius and james matching 😭😭😭. but it also raises the question of what the others are wearing. jeans and blouses? night clothes? leggings?

10. tensions are so high. i feel like i need to be clutching my pearls and holding my breath. this is so stressful. i’m so worried something will go horribly wrong. so stressed

11. i’m also concerned why they are worried about fingerprints but aren’t wearing gloves

12. oh good, they’re wearing gloves actually

13. i love that part of the way sirius’ has his pure blood character show in here is by the way he can tell the price, quality, painter, and style of a painting just by looking at it

14. i love that after the first wolfstar kiss remus got back to james and told him everything. and i love that sirius and james are bringing this up during the heist when their LITERAL LIVES ARE ON THE LINE

15. oh shit there’s footsteps. i’m so worried for sirius and james

16. thank FUCKING GOD THEY ALL MADE IT OUT ALIVE AND UNSCATHED AND SAFE OH GOD I WAS SO SCARED OH MY GODDDDDD

17. still getting a bit of a rosekiller vibe here…

18. shit fuck no shit fuck shit fuck shit fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck shit shit shit fuck fuck fuck fuck shit shit shit fuck fuck fuck fuck shit shit shit fuck shit fuck holy fucking shit there’s police and sirens and holy fucking shit shit shit. stop no, i had such high hopes

19. oh no james thinking that sirius tipped the police off. (but i’m getting a bit of a feeling that this will be parallel to the peter betrayal moments in canon)

20. (not barty letting out a maniacal laugh during a fucking car chase. he’s not helping the sociopath claims)

21. not pandora playing the euphemia card.

22. also, once again, i would like to make a callback to my previous thoughts on point number 18. still thinking that. very worried.

23. god, not james saying i love you to regulus while the police have opened fire on him. i’m so worried. god.

24. it will be fine tho. there’s 10 chapters left. and james isn’t the one who dies. i will be fine.

25. james was shot 😳

26. and they’re all on the plane. they survived. end of chapter. thank fucking god.

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whyyougottadothatbro · 1 year

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Butterflies

In honor of Channie’s 12 years worth of hard work and the amazing artist and human that he is, here is a little drabble (that ended up being not so little) for the rightfully acclaimed Mr. Steal Your Girl. hope you like it~

wc: 1.2k

For the 2 chronically sleep deprived gremlins you and Chan were, it really hadn’t taken long for you to become each other’s human melatonin sources. Apart from the fact that no one could actually fix your sleep patterns given that you’d lost track of those long ago, the comfort that came along with the other’s presence was usually more than enough to knock you both out within 15 minutes, record time if you believed Changbin for that one time Chan hadn’t slept proper in 4 days and was snoring his exhaustion away after 10 minutes of cuddling you on the infamous leather couch. Which could explain your current situation, sitting atop your kitchen counter at god knows which hour, but it was certainly past midnight. You know better than to check the time, for it surely will stress you out to see the hours left till you eventually need to start getting ready for work, just hoping the night’s silence can calm you down enough for sleep to take over your body. Chan obviously hadn’t been home yet, he was working on the ‘butterflies’ demo after you had mentioned it in a not so deliberately placed comment about how you’d love to hear the full song. You’d definetly not been able to predict the outcome that was him spending the night till sunrise at the studio trying to finish the song or atleast a complete draft. Not checking the time had also meant for you to not see your phone, which was why you’d missed the text dear boyfriend had sent you half an hour ago, saying he'd be home in a bit.

The sound of the door keypad unlocking meant your boyfriend was finally home, exhausted out of his mind and looking forward to absolutely nothing other than dropping his stuff onto the couch and find you curled up in your bed, to dive under the covers and pull you flush against him to let sleep overtake his body too. What he hadn’t expected was to see you sitting on the kitchen counter, legs crossed as you sip on something from your mug of the cringy but awfully cute couple mug set you owned. He grabs himself a bottle of water from the fridge, unscrewing the cap as he wordlessly makes his way towards you, your legs detangling to hang off the countertop and make space for him to stand in between them, both of you silently sipping on your beverages till you finish yours and wrap your arms around his torso, probably looking like a lovesick puppy but you couldn’t really help it.

“Welcome home, Roo”

“Glad to be back princess, couldn’t sleep again hm?”

You silently nod against his shoulder, crossing your legs behind his, gesture enough to answer a question that had been rhetorical in the first place.

“Which tea was it? Lavender?” he asks as he pulls you closer to him by his gentle hold on your thighs, flush against him. You’d realized eventually that you could never physically be close enough to him, you could always be latched onto him like a koala and still want to be closer, to take in more of his vanilla scent and the faded fragrance of his cologne, just to bask in his existence on a whole.

Subconsciously enough you’d started nuzzling your nose against his neck, pulling him even closer with all your limbs, till his squeaky laugh had pulled you out of your little trance, as your arms loosen enough to let him breathe freely again.

“Could you tell I missed you today?” you look up at him, arms still lazily resting around him.

“Oh, I really couldn’t tell little one, I’m glad you told me. I thought you didn’t miss me at all love.” He spoke with all seriousness as he looked at you curling up against him again, eyes fond as he lets out another chuckle.

“Good. You should know your presence is extremely appreciated at all times” Chris swears he lives for the mumbling mess you become when its past 3 am and you finally get him to yourself because this, nothing in the world could beat this.

“Anyways, now that I presume you’re done talking like an executive, let’s get you to bed, shall we?” he’d already wrapped your legs around his body tight enough, waiting for your approval to take you up and away, when the whiny ‘no’ that escapes your mouth halts his actions.

“Why baby? What’s wrong?”

“thecounteriscoldanditfeelsreallynice”

“come again baby?” he’d clearly heard and understood you but would it really be him if he doesn’t tease you for your antics?

“You heard me I know” you mumbled against his chest again, shoving your face into it like one of those Felix posters he saw at the concert and smushed his face against his friend’s chest in a similar manner.

“Baby it is really late, you need to go sleep hm?”

“You don’t get to say that, you came home late too…”

“I don’t have to be up again for work in almost 3 hours now do I?”

“True. Fine, you win this time”

“Of course I do, now come on, let’s get this koala some sleep should we?” he finally lifts you off the counter, keeping you secure in his hold as all you find yourself capable of doing is nodding against him. He carries you to your bed, clearly showing signs of the tossing and turning he presumed to have happened earlier from the lack of sleep as he lays you down and tucks you in. Your eyes are barely open but you register the lack of warmth immediately, reaching out to make grabby hands as he strips himself of the minimal clothing he had on in the first place, muscle tee and basketball shorts. His eyes crinkle up again, voice serenading as ever, “let me change pretty, I promise I’ll be there in a minute yeah?”. Your hands slump down onto the duvet in defeat as you turn to face his side, patiently awaiting him as he finally slips under the covers. You presume your rightful position with your head against his naked chest, left leg sprawled against him as he hikes it up a little higher, arms wrapped around him as he justifies his title of your personal melatonin, sleep finding you almost immediately.

“I love you so much and you’re the best thing that happened to me and I love you, goodnight” Chan was now an expert when it came to comprehending your sleepy mumbles, and they all warmed his heart up in the best ways possible. He silently presses his cheek against the top of your head, dropping a few kisses against your crown as he feels you returning those with kisses against his chest in your sleepy state, and he suddenly can’t feel any of the day’s exhaustion anymore but only your tender love that surrounds him and wraps him up in a cocoon of warmth and safety. His adrenaline from working hadn’t really worn off yet, so he resorts to humming the melody he was working on earlier, noting it down in his head to show you the finished product later.

Baby you got me feeling butterflies..

a/n : CHAN PLEASE RELEASE THAT TRACK I BEG YOU I’M LITERALLY AHBDKNKKNKNKJNDDSKDKF

here’s the track for anyone wondering...

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romanarose · 4 months

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Life update if anyone cares.

I only post this bc i was posting my depressing shit for months and a lot of people were reaching out in concern <3

cw sever depression, self harm, suicide, csa, SA, all the bad. but also lots of good <3

TLDR: Despite a god-awful semester, i got all a's and b's

Everyone thats been following me the last few months has seem my personal posts about how fucking awful things have been for me.

I've dealt with fact I can no longer deny that what happened to me was CSA, despite being on a milder side of things. That sparked an absolutely spiral. I didnt sleep for months which made things worse. School, I got an F on a midterm and i NEVER get F's on writing assignments.

Work had its complications and i quit and then rescinded that quit two days later. I was so constantly depressed in my dorm my roommate literally told me i needed to go to the basketball game with them bc i was sitting in a depression hovel none stop. I only went to services twice this whole time, one shabbat and once for Rosh Hoshannah.

I burned the ever living fuck out of my fingers, yall remember that one? lol.

In novemeber i had relapsed so severely on self harm i thought i had accidentally killed myself. I should've called 911. I thought I was bleeding out and/or going into shock. I then worked myself up more by going down pages of the internet about medical shook and people dying from it. that did not help my heart rate. I couldn't stand, I couldnt see straight for a while.

I could not afford an ambulance or a hospital stay as i am uninsured and only ork 25 hours a week. not a lot of money.

All this happened and I didn't miss work. This is not a brag, this is me not being able to makegood choices for myself.

Finally, thanksgiving break hit. Thank fucking god. I WANTED to use those 4 days of absolutely nothing to get to my TWO BIG RESEARCH PAPERS I HADNT STRTED YET but alas, I was SICK. I was so sick, in fact, and so hoped up on cough medicine for 3 days i was incomprehensible.

I was so physically ill, i couldnt even think about how mentally ill i was. I slept and slept and slept. And by the time sunday hit, I felt so recharged.

My failed midterm was so bad and so not me my professsor reached out to me. Im close with him (in a v appropriate way lol, hes a bruce springsteen fan too) and i felt comfortable telling him essentially that for a few months there things were severe, and I really should've gone in for a 72 hour hold multiple times and i was not safe. through a few lines of resources, I ended up back in therapy bc my school added a new therapist that is a woman (i stopped going last year bc i didnt like seeing a man)

I like my new therapist.

Anway, in about 2 weeks I wrote 2 12 page research papers, 2 book report papers, 1 science paper did 2 presentations, took 2 finals, wrote 2 more finals with essay questions, and at the end of it all, not only did I not fail any classes...

I GOT ALL A'S AND B'S! Which means my gpa is still high enough to renew my scholarship for my last year

I am so fucking proud of myself for accomplishing all this despite suffering so fucking badly. I havnt felt pain like that in years, just agony.

I had a down turn again over christmas bc my siblings were literally ass, upto and including making fun of me for not ating (i am multiple accounts of sexual trauma from several people, so im scared of dating), making fun of my eating, and my sister slapping me and my older brother hitting me. Was a bad time. But for right now, im in the place im staying for break (all january) im back at my old day care and they love me, and olive garden at this store has been going great

Im hoping next semester to be better, im hopful at least

Anyway, thank you so much to everyone who has supported my writing has supported me through these times. It makes me happy that i came her to share my silly little moon knight x reader series, not really intending on writing a whole lot, but next thing i know, i have friends and a lil community. so thank you <3

#romana personal posts #cw suicide #cw self harm #cw csa #cw sa

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suchagallabitch · 5 months

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🫵weekly wednesday tag 🫵

omg I (simple old me?) have been bestowed upon the honour of coming up with these questions??? i would like to thank the academy for this most sacred honour 😋

1. if you could switch bodies with anybody for only one hour who would it be and what would you do? I think I gotta say taylor swift OBVI. first off im gonna dropping ME! acoustic version. Then I’m gonna hope lover deluxe is already recorded, drop that. If not i will make sure to text Jack and tell him that we need to record it so that i get it either way 😼. Then I would find out the definite truth of what happened between her and Karlie Kloss. I’d wire myself (as in me- me) a few million dollars, pet the cats and then post something really random on her instagram story. Literally want to make the public go absolutely bananas trying to figure out why taylor posted a random twitter meme. I have a lot of faith to believe this could all happen in an hour but I would try. SO hard.

2. whats your most trivial / dumbest hot take?I don’t think we should still be discovering animals. like what do you mean in the year of our lord 2023 we are STILL finding animals?? no they should all be discovered and if they havent been then i think they should stay undiscovered.

3. if you had to teach a college course what would it be in? I feel like we’re all expecting me to say something Taylor related but honestly I could teach a masterclass on the psychology of Ryan Murphy. I hate that man and i have so much to say about him and his productions

4. season 12 of shameless is suddenly happen and youve been put in charge! what plot point(s) are you gonna make happen? I cant think of anything substantial to actually contribute but i want Carl Gallagher to have a fruity little vape. I also want to see him quit the force and flourish in a new job!

5. who would be your godly parent? (can be any mythology). I’m gonna go with greeks as a Percy Jackson stan. I asked my bsf who is an expert in greek mythology. She said: “you’re a Aphrodite child cuz you’re a hopeless romantic and you appreciate beauty. You’re very particular in how you’re viewed and how everything you produce is viewed (what you write, how your feed looks like, etc.)” - I’m gonna have to agree with her on Aphrodite

6. what’s something you love about yourself? I think i’m so very very funny

7. describe your day in 5 emojis: 😴👁️👩‍💻✈️☕️

8. what shameless character do you think you could beat in a fight? Realistically i think the ONLY person i could beat in a fight is Liam and honest to god im not even sure i could.

9. tell us 2 truths and a lie, we’ll try to guess the lie!

- I’m double jointed

- I sleep on the left side of the bed

- I’ve never had pumpkin pie

10. do you have a pet(s). if so how did they get their name? I do! my son (cat) is named Chidi after the good place!

11. show us a meme (or picture) that captures your essence

self explanatory.

12. whats your typical coffee / tea / beverage order? see i gotta have a special lil drinky drink everyday and i mean my little drinky drinks are free so i am likw 80% gingerbread chai at any given time. Alternatively, an iced chestnut praline latte w/ praline cold foam.

13. use a song to describe the last 5 years of your life?

2019- its nice to have a friend- taylor swift

2020- ribs - lorde

2021- nothing new - taylor swift

2022- first love / late spring- mitski OR orlando- leith ross

2023- true blue - boygenuis OR now that we don’t talk - taylor swift.

Thank you friends thats all i got :)

I Tag: @deedala @darlingian @michellemisfit @mybrainismelted @too-schoolforcool @gallawitchxx @gardenerian @sam-loves-seb @thisdivorce @xninetiestrendx @scarcrosseduntouched @juliakayyy @y0itsbri @grumble-fish @grumpymickmilk @transmickey @surviving-maybe @metalheadmickey @heymrspatel @auds-and-evens @deathclassic @flamingbluepanda @crossmydna @sleepyfacetoughguy @vintagelacerosette @depressedstressedlemonzest @thepupperino @squidyyy23 @energievie 🫶🫶

#im on a plane rn #zoom zoom in the sky #elle does tags

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nighttimeebony · 1 year

Text

My reactions, thoughts, and predictions that I had while reading Percy Jackson: The Titan's Curse. At least the ones I bothered to write down. Spoilers below the cut. Also, fair warning, this one is way longer than either of my previous reaction posts. I had a lot of thoughts.

EDIT: part 1, part 2, part 4, part 5

I feel I should mention that the Percy Jackson books have objectively the best chapter titles

The mental image of Sally driving Percy and his friends to get their ass beat like it's just an after-school sports club is hilarious to me

Ooh, Thalia has hypnosis wind

So Thalia didn't age while she was in that tree? Because I remember she was much older than Annabeth at the time of her death, but now she, Annabeth and Percy are all the same age. Huh. Okay then.

NICO DI ANGELO!!! I've heard about you! You're gay! And he has a sister! Oh I am delighted and ready to love them!

Thalia insulting Grover's music taste.

ANNABETH IS TALLER THAN PERCY

Aww, Nico defending his sister.

OH SHIT, IS THORN A MANTICORE??!???!!

"They're not dolls! They're figurines!" Sure, sweetie.

CALLED IT

Bianca is great.

Oh my God, Nico, you beautiful nerd! XD

HUNTING HORN?!!?!!! SILVERY ARROWS?!!?!??? IS IT ARTEMIS?!!!! PLEASE TELL ME ITS ARTEMIS!!!!!

HOLY FUCK, ARTEMIS'S HUNTERS!!!!!!!

Zoë Nightshade is easily the most badass name I've ever heard in my life.

ARTEMIS!!!!!!!

Please tell me Annabeth is okay. I will not be okay until I know that she is

Oh my God, Nico! XD Also, chill, Percy, he's just a baby.

"Besides, I hear they rebuilt the cabins you burned down." Excuse me, what?!

Percy, leave Bianca be! Besides, you don't even know her! She can be a badass warrior hunter lady if she wants. What even are your hang-ups about Artemis's hunters? They saved your life.

Oh, wait, that's right. Camp Half-Blood needs more people to keep it protected. That's right.

Good for you, Bianca, but I can't say that I would ever leave my little brother to become an immortal virgin. No offense to them, but girl, your brother needs you. You may have a new family, but you're all he's got.

Oh, I love Artemis calling Apollo her annoying brother. Do we get to see them interact? I pray that we do.

Grover simping for Artemis is so valid.

Thalia thinking Apollo’s hot is so valid.

Apollo being an obnoxious kind-of hippy going through an anime phase is the greatest idea anyone has ever had. He's so stupid, I love him.

Apollo's comment about pretty girls turning into plants reminded me of the myth about the time where one of his boyfriends turned into a flower after he died. Hyacinthus. Because we cannot forget that Apollo is canonically bisexual. If Rick Riordan doesn't (at some point) acknowledge how gay ancient Greek mythology is, I'm going to riot.

Dating must be really weird at Camp Half-Blood. And between demi-gods in general, right? Because, technically speaking, they're all kind of related to each other. I guess it just works differently since the gods aren't human, so there's not the same case to be made about genetics and the potential for incest. Or maybe that only applies to kids who have the same god parent. Like how Percy sees Tyson as his brother. I’m wondering if the kids from other cabins feel the same way. Like, do kids from different cabins consider themselves siblings? Does Annabeth see the other kids from Athena’s cabin as her siblings? What does the dating scene even look like at Camp Half-Blood? Is it considered scandalous to date other members of your own cabin? Or do some people think it’s taboo or whatever to date other demigods in general? I don’t need sleep, I need answers!

Ohhh. Okay. So apparently Thalia has aged while she was in the tree, just very slowly. So if Percy is 14 and Thalia can pass as an 8th grader like him, and she should be somewhere between 12 and 19, if I had to hazard a guess, I'd say she's about 15 or 16.

Oh, hey, I was right. Thanks, Apollo.

Aww, poor Thalia. Lol. I was the exact same way when I drove for the first time. Literally had a panic attack on the spot, and I wasn't even controlling the Earth's temperature.

Yay, Tyson! I was worried we wouldn’t see him again until, like, the last book or something.

Aww, it’s so sweet that Tyson wants to see Annabeth. And it’s adorable how cool he thinks she is.

Wow, Luke really is an unbelievable bastard. Annabeth is smart, she was smart to question him, but when the rocks started to fall, her instincts drove her to protect Luke, because even though he’s an unbelievable bastard, Annabeth still can’t help but harbor positive feelings for her. For the longest time, he was family to her and she loved him, so of course those feelings are still there, even if she knows it’s illogical.

Wait. Annabeth is holding up the ceiling of a cave, which Percy acknowledges that she shouldn’t be able to do. So… is the cave ceiling actually the sky? Like how, in Greek mythology, the sky is held up by the titan Atlas? In the mythology, Heracles trades places with Atlas holding up the sky while Atlas helps Heracles complete one of his twelve labors, and when Atlas is about to leave, Heracles tricks Atlas into taking back the sky before bolting. Like how Luke tricked Annabeth into holding up the cave ceiling before leaving her alone to hold it by herself.

Okay, Grover, chill out with the stalking, bud.

I guess Grover and Annabeth take turns getting damsel-ed. Last book was Grover’s turn and this book is Annabeth’s turn.

Don’t worry, Percy, I forgot about that scarf too.

Okay, not liking how the Hunters are portrayed. Because when Artemis says to give up love, she only means romantic love, which is clearly not the only kind of love. Greek mythology practically invented the concept of differentiating and identifying different kinds of love. The Hunters should know that, but the way they act towards the other campers is really… I dunno, gross? They act like their way of life is the only way that matters, which is super fucked up coming from the people that follow Artemis.

“I wondered if there was any way I’d looked that ridiculous when I’d first arrived.” Percy, that was literally only two years ago, get off your high fucking horse. XD

Thalia static-shocking people when she’s annoyed is golden and I love her.

Oh, fuck.

OH, FUCK!

Oh, we love the prophecies… Yayyyy.

Okay, guessing time. Artemis is chained to a rock, which immediately made me think of Prometheus, the titan that gifted fire to humanity and was punished by Zeus to be chained to a rock and have an eagle eat his liver every day for eternity. But then the Oracle mentioned that one must withstand “The Titan’s Curse,” which could be another reference to Prometheus, but I don’t think so. Because in the myth, Heracles killed the eagle and freed Prometheus from his punishment, so I’m pretty sure it’s not that, but you never know. Then I remembered Annabeth and my prediction that she’s currently holding up the sky like the titan Atlas, and the Oracle said that “one must withstand.” Admittedly, my knowledge of Atlas and his mythos is shaky at best, and I don't remember him ever having a "curse", but I guess holding up the entire sky is about as "cursed" as it's possible to be. And the Oracle saying that “one must withstand” makes me think that something happened to Atlas, so now someone needs to hold the sky in his place or else the sky will collapse to the earth and the world will end, or something like that. So that’s my prediction, that someone will need to hold up the sky in Atlas’s place for the rest of, well, forever. I don’t have a guess as to who it could be, though.

Also, someone is apparently going to die. And be killed by their god parent. Awesome… Super looking forward to that inevitable heartbreak… I hope it’s not either of the di Angelo kids, but they’re both new characters, and I know Nico becomes more important later (purely by accident and through pop culture osmosis), and since I had no idea that Biance even existed until I started reading this book, I am terrified that that means Bianca is going to die. I pray that I am wrong.

Wow, Thalia is petty and I’m kind of living for it.

I love that the Stoll brothers are basically Greek Fred and George Weasley.

Wow, Zoë’s kind of a bitch. She won’t travel with Percy because he’s a boy, and apparently Grover doesn’t count as a boy because he’s a satyr. Super fucked up.

You know, Artemis did have male Hunters. It didn’t happen often in the mythology, but there was a pretty famous male Hunter of Artemis named Hippolytus. The thing about Artemis’s Hunters isn’t that men weren’t allowed to be Hunters, it’s just that men typically didn’t choose to be Hunters, because one of the reasons why Artemis’s Hunters joined her in the first place is because Artemis protected the women in her care from the sexist constraints placed on them by Greek society at the time. The reason why men didn’t typically become Hunters is because they didn’t need the same kind of protection and escape from Greek society that women did. And Artemis didn’t hate men on principal, she hated the fact that men were the ones who used their positions of power to discriminate against and abuse the women in their society.

Aww. Grover’s such a sweetheart.

I love Sally.

Percy has so many damn Dreams™ and nightmares I have to wonder if this kid ever sleeps.

Apparently Percy knows the names of the pegasi, which is adorable to me. And this one is apparently Blackjack, which is a great name for a horse.

Aww, I want a baby serpent cow.

Aww, Nico. He's precious and I love him. Protect this child at all costs

Oh, I know about Ariadne. Theseus ditched her on an island after she helped him navigate the labyrinth and kill the minotaur. That's how she met Dionysus. I'm pretty sure they got married not too long after.

Aww, Dionysus and Ariadne are still married. That'd be kind of sweet if Dionysus wasn't such an asshole.

Yup, I know about Medea too.

Did they really just give Dionysus the Snape treatment? He hates all heroes on principle because one of them was cruel to his wife? He thinks he’s justified in harassing children because they’re training to be heroes, and he thinks that all heroes suck? Wow, dude. Get a life.

Oh, cool, Bianca’s forgetting things now. Nothing sketchy or sinister about that, I’m sure.

Is the General the titan Atlas? If my earlier theory was right, then he's gotta be.

Excuse me, teeth?! Plant them?!

Oh, wait! I think I know what that’s talking about. In Jason’s myth, he had to yoke a field with the teeth of (if memory serves) fire-breathing oxen. I don’t remember what planting the teeth did, but I’m guessing it wasn’t anything good.

HAH! Saber-toothed tiger kitties popped out

The General talks about mortals the same way I talk about fanfiction and anime

OH FUCK THE NEMEAN LION

“Sometimes mortals can be more horrible than monsters.” Truth.

Wait… what’s going on with Bianca? There’s something fucky going on with her memory.

“‘Bianca,’ Zoë said. ‘How long ago…’ Her voice faltered.” FOR FUCK’S SAKE, RICK!

Ain’t no way this friendly homeless guy isn’t some kind of hell monster.

Oh. I stand corrected. Not a hell monster. Probably a god. The gods love disguising themselves as old people to test mortals

The Mountain of Despair. Sounds fun. I wonder if this is the mountain Prometheus was chained to, since it’s powered by titan magic and all that.

Ladon… I know that name. I recognize that, but I can’t for the life of me remember his myth or anything about him.

*in reference to one of Percy's dreams* Oh, wait. Is this Jason and Medea?

Oh, nope. It was Zoë. I figured she had some kind of bad break with a boyfriend or something, but I dismissed it at first because I figured she was too young. But I guess if she was around during ancient Greek times, that sort of thing doesn’t matter.

Oh, hey! I once visited Cloudcroft, New Mexico! It was a nice little place.

“I was never very comfortable talking one-on-one with girls anyway…” Okay, Percy, you and I both know that is a lie. Annabeth is, like, your best friend.

"'Bianca,' I said. 'That hotel you stayed at. Was it possibly called the Lotus Hotel and Casino?'" Oh no.

Seventy years?!

Oh, fuck.

99% sure Aphrodite is the one in the car.

WAIT, HOLD UP! IF BIANCA AND NICO WERE BORN MORE THAN 70 YEARS AGO, THAT MEANS THEY WERE BORN BEFORE THE BIG 3'S OATH, RIGHT?! SO DOES THAT MEAN MY THEORY ABOUT HADES BEING THEIR GOD PARENT IS RIGHT?!?!??!! OHHHHHHH, SHIIIIIITTTTT

"When she smiled at me, just for a moment she looked a little like Annabeth." AHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Aphrodite is the patron goddess of shippers.

What the hell, Aphrodite, chill, lady.

"You act like it was real." Percy, this is Greek mythology. Every single star/constellation was either a person or an animal before this whole mess.

"It... it was for Nico. It was the only statue he didn't have." OH MY GOD!! ToT

"If anything happens, give that to Nico. Tell him... tell him I'm sorry." WHY??!!?!?? LITERALLY DON'T!!!!!

"Here we were in the desert. And Bianca di Angelo was gone." WHAT THE FUCK?!!??!!! WHY DO YOU HATE ME!???!!??

No, but please tell me she's not dead. The prophecy just said "lost", not dead. And there's no body, so she could still be alive. Rick hasn't killed anybody yet, Bianca cannot be the first. I refuse.

The Hesperides! That's why Ladon sounded so familiar! He was the dragon!

"'But--' Gurgle, gurgle, the naiad spoke in my mind." RICK!!!!!! FINISH YOUR GODDAMN SCENES FOR ONCE!!!!! THIS IS THE KIND OF STRESS AND ANTICIPATION THAT MAKES PEOPLE LOSE HAIR!!!!

I like that Grover, Percy and Thalia actually listened to Annabeth ramble about her special interest enough that they can just recall random facts like that. It's an adorable little friendship detail, but also fucking sad. I miss Annabeth.

Hah. "Dam". Let these kids swear. They deserve it.

"'Nah,' I said. 'Not that high.'" Aww, Percy's a good friend.

Hah. Statue fucking.

Oh no! Is Bessie the monster! No! But she's so cute!

PLEASE DON'T KILL THE BABY COW SNAKE

"'This is Atlas's mountain,' Zoë said." LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOO

"'Yes,' Zoë said bleakly. 'Atlas is my father.'" THE GAME JUST FUCKING CHANGED

*after finishing chapter 18* ......... Fuck, man.

Wait, why isn't Hades a part of the Twelve Olympians? And why haven't we heard any mention of Demeter's demigod children? I can't remember the last time the Demeter Cabin was even mentioned, if it ever was.

Well, I guess Thalia joining the Hunters is a pretty roundabout way to have the prophecy be about Percy.

"But I will be watching, Percy Jackson. I do not approve of your friendship with my daughter." Well, then you're gonna hate what happens later.

Aww. Percy and Annabeth have matching battle scars. Sort of. Still sweet.

Oh, no, Nico.... Baby.....

"It was a statue of Hades, Lord of the Dead." OH FUCKING SHIT

"A son of Hades." OH FUCKING SHIT

HOLY SHIT, PAN HAS ENTERED THE CHAT

#pjo #pjo the titan's curse #the titan's curse #percy jackson spoilers #pjo spoilers #percy jackson and the titan's curse #percy jackson #nico di angelo #pjo thalia #bianca di angelo #zoe nightshade #grover underwood #annabeth chase #percy jackson the titan's curse

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dellalyra · 10 months

Text

ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ɪᴅᴇɴᴛɪᴛʏ {.⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅.}𝘬𝘢𝘬𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦

𓆩♡𓆪 A/N: this was such a fun submission and my first time writing for Kakashi so I hope it's okay!! As always, check out the masterlist for more and if you're under 18 - buzz off, you're responsible for your own media consumption and this is a mature content blog. Ily all <3

𓆩♡𓆪 Summary: A case of mistaken identity at the spring leads to some fortunate revelations.

𓆩♡𓆪CW: Smut, smut, lots of it, just lots of sex, sexy jutsu, cursing, fem!reader, mentions of weapons.

The water soothed your aching joints in seconds, dry skin – sunburn and all – floating away with the soft ripples of the water. You could hear the soft trickle of taps and the sounds of a nearby nightingale. The warm, early summer air brushed against your skin. All alone in the hot spring, you finally felt calm. You last mission in the Hidden Sand had really taken it out of you, the summer heat, the nightmare opponents you faced and the seemingly endless stream of missions you’d been on had really taken its toll, but now, you had a whole month off. Tsunade insisted every six months, a Jonin got a month off, and 2 weeks every 3 months for ANBU members. As you begin to plan all the things you want to do for the next month (sleep, mainly) you rise from the water, steaming tendrils following your skin. You’re alone, so you don’t need a towel right now and the balmy air feels incredible on your bare skin. You loose your hair from its clip-on top of your head and let it tumble down your back as you rake your hands over your scalp.

As you bend over to reach for your towel, a metallic ‘whizz’ swishes past your ear and clatters on the wall. Turning to the collision point, your heart stops. The discarded Kunai was lodged in the plaster of the wall.

Just one night.

That’s all you wanted.

And preferably to not have to fight anyone nude.

“Alright, who’s there? If you’re gonna fight me then c’mon, I wanna get home.” You say into the night.

“Oh shit.” You hear coming from behind the door. Wait, you know that low timbre.

“Kakashi?” You ask, now wrapping your soft towel around your bare figure.

“Wait? Y/N?” The voice replies, and out comes the suspect – hand covering his one exposed eye.

“Mind telling me why you’re tossing kunai at me at 2am in the hot spring?” You say, sitting on a nearby rock.

“Not really.”

“We’ll, you’re gonna.”

“I – uh – shit.” The visible tips of his ears were bright red.

“Wait – were you spying on me? What the fuck Hatake?” He must have seen everything if he threw that kunai at you.

“Jesus, no! Who do you think I am – Jiraiya?!” Everyone knew of the Sanin’s ‘bathhouse visits.

“You got a lot of explaining to do then!”

“Or – how about we forget this ever happened?”

“No.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

You noticed he was crouched funny on the tree branch he had perched on, head facing down, and he kept adjusting his mask.

“I was coming for a bath because nobody comes out here this late, so I can take off my mask. Then, I – saw there was someone there and thought…” He knew he had to tell you the truth, he didn’t want the girl he’d been in love with since he was 12 to think that all the Icha-Icha had turned him into a peeping Tom.

“Thought what? That maybe some late-night attempted murder would be fun?!”

“No!”

“Then what!”

“I wasn’t trying to kill you!”

“Then why did you throw a kunai at my damn head!”

“I thought you Naruto was here!”

“You thought I was NARUTO?!”

“Shit, Y/N, I thought you were his Sexy Jutsu!”

You pause. Stomach dropped.

Kakashi looked as if he’d die.

“Wait? What?”

“You heard me.”

“Get down here.”

If he thought you, in all your naked glory, had been Naruto’s jutsu – such an embodiment of beauty that it rendered enemies bleeding – oh my god. The head tilt, the mask.

He had a nosebleed.

Kakashi thought that you were so sexy, that you couldn’t be real.

The man – who you had been in love with since you were 11 – got a nosebleed from seeing you naked.

He dropped down from the branch, silent as a panther.

He had his head tilted to look at the sky and honestly, you were surprised this man hadn’t disappeared into a puff of smoke. He was pretty awkward, had been his whole life. Like a stray cat, you always thought.

You took a step closer.

It’s now or never.

The confidence you felt seeping through your very blood was something you’d never felt before. You felt electric. The Copy Ninja, Son of the White Fang, Master of a Thousand Jutsu’s, Chidori creator – had been rendered essentially useless and a puddle of a man all because of your bare skin.

The thought of him feeling so enamoured by you sent pure blazing heat between your thighs.

You wanted him.

You wanted him to ruin you.

You stepped closer.

“You mean that, ‘Kashi?” You ask, voice low and airy with want and awe.

He just stares into your eyes, his pupils taking in your lust-blown ones.

You wanted him.

He was going to ruin you.

“I don’t say shit I don’t mean.” He says, fingers dipping to hook under your chin and tilt your face to look up at him.

Only in this proximity did you realise the sheer difference between you, he dwarfed you. His broad shoulders engulfing you in shadow, moonlight draping across his silver hair like silk.

“You know… you should probably make sure I am real.” You bat your lashes at him.

“And how would I do that?”

“Touch me.”

With that, he wraps one arm around your waist and weaves his fingers through the hair at the back of your head, pulling you in flush with his solid body.

You could already feel him, even through his tac trousers, his whole body – hot and hard.

“Say it again.” He almost growls, and you almost fall apart on the spot.

“Touch me, ‘Kashi. Please.”

“Fuck, sweetheart - you’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that” He mumbles, lithe fingers tracing your curves.

“Then stop fucking around. I thought you were a man of action?” You tease.

“Oh, I’m planning on fucking around a lot more.” He smirks, the curve of his lips visible through the mask. He spots your eyes flitting down to his lips and he hooks a finger into his mask.

13 years of friendship and you had only seen him without his mask once, and that time, he was covered in blood as you attempted to heal him.

But fuck, was it worth the wait.

He barely gave you a second to think and admire, before his still-smirking lips came crashing onto yours. He tasted like heaven, the salt of sweat and something sweeter making you whimper into his mouth. His scent too, it’s encasing you completely – salty, fresh soap, and something woodsy that you don’t have the attention span to pinpoint right now.

You tangle your fingers into the thick mass of soft hair on his pretty head and tugged slightly, eliciting a pained groan from the man who immediately hoisted you by the thighs onto his waist, and you feel yourself being pushed up against a tree. From this angle, you could already feel his stiff length against the plush of your ass as he ground his hips into you, making you gasp – an opportunity he grasped to slide his tongue into the cavern of your mouth. Experimentally, you circle your hips to feel him again and he pulls his mouth from yours.

“This feels like every wet dream I had as a teenager.” He smirks, reattaching his lips to your neck, breathing heavy and ragged with restraint to not just rip your towel off and plunge himself into you then and there.

“Who was the star of those dreams?” You giggle, genuinely curious as to who he fantasised over when you were sitting with him as your teenage dream.

“Who do you think, dumbass?”

“Tsunade-sama?” The most beautiful woman in the village back then had to be the obvious choice.

But you must have guessed wrong, for he sank his teeth into the silky skin of your neck in protest before pulling away, keeping one hand under your thighs, and bringing the other up to cup your cheek.

“Idiot.”

“Rude.”

“You. Y/N. It’s always been you.”

You kiss him this time. Softer, sweeter than the last.

“You’ve been the star of all my dreams, since we were kids.” You whisper into his lips.

He reattaches his lips to yours, your teeth lightly pulling on his lower lip which makes him lift you from the tree and carry you to the patch of mossy earth beside the spring. It feels like a cloud on your back, and ask he adjusts himself over you, you take the chance to pop the fastening of your towel, letting it flutter to the ground beneath you and exposing yourself to him – with full awareness this time.

“As good up close, Hatake?” You smirk at him as his hands form fists by his side – jaw clenched.

“So much fucking better.” He says as he dives back into your neck.

You let yourself indulge in the feeling of his heated lips and tongue leaving marks over your skin, that will no doubt be as purple as grapes by tomorrow, his teeth leaving bite marks that he may as well just spell out ‘Property of Kakashi Hatake” on your forehead and be done with it. You realise he’s mumbling, and you listen to his words.

mine mine mine mine mine was the chorus being sung into your skin and you pull his face up to look at you.

“Yours.”

You tug on the bottom hem of his vest and shirt, desperate to have him as bare as you to which he eagerly obliges – unclipping the fastenings of the vest in what must be record speed – oh what those hands could do, you often thought to yourself watching him make hand signs or twirl his kunai around his fingers – leaving you frustrated and hot under the collar as you fought alongside him in countless missions, always relieving the pent up tension with your own measly fingers when you returned home – they did the job, but you just knew he would work pure magic on your body with his.

But soon enough, all thoughts leave your mind because before you – no hitai-ate, no mask, no vest, no shirt was Kakashi. Muscled thighs spread, kneeling over your thighs and looking down at him. Eyes as dark as the night sky itself, pale skin scattered with shiny scars – some of which you stitched up yourself – and his hair glowing in the light of the moon that was acting as a backdrop.

“Fuck, ‘Kashi. You’re fucking… beautiful.” You softly sigh. You think you’ve never seen a person so stunning, corded muscles of his arms showcasing the pure agile strength of him, chest heaving and glittering with a slight sheen of sweat and defined, chiselled abs leading to a strong Adonis belt decorated with a trail of darker grey hair leading down, down, down…

You could see him straining against the fabric of his pants, obviously painfully hard as he hissed when you so much as brushed a finger against the zipper of them. You look up at him through your eyelashes and the sight takes his breath away.

You lay beneath him, hair splayed out like a fallen angels, contrasting against the mossy floor beneath you. Sparkling eyes reflecting the starlight gazing wide eyed at him through your fluttering lashes rendered him speechless. The cute curve of your nose, leading to those delicious kiss-swollen lips. The slope of your neck and the smell of you – God the smell. Roses and cherries and something deeper, something that was just you. Your scent drove him wild as he had been kissing your neck, leading him to create the litany of marks he was now admiring. These were all things he’d seen before, admired before, loved before. But now, you had allowed him to venture further, to see the parts of you that he would imagine reading his novels. The girl in the stories was always you – since he first picked it up. All of his dreams, day and night, and his imagination when his own calloused palm and fingers were wrapped around his flushed cock in his bed at night – they were all you. Spread beneath him, beside him, on top of him. Some days, especially in summer – training had been torture with you. Your skin slick with sweat, droplets dripping between your breast – your shorts or skirt riding higher and higher as the heat grew more stifling. There had been many days he had felt his pants tighten and had to come up with an excuse to vanish from the training grounds to somewhere private.

Yet, none of that – not one imagined image – could compare to what was lain before him now.

Chest heaving, the slope of your waist leading to the wider curve of your hips, he was desperate to see your ass, he’d always been an ass man and he was convinced yours was the best around, he’d never tell that he’d heard other ANBU members talking about how much they loved your ass in your uniform one time and it had infuriated him so much that he had them on extra training for a month – thighs so strong and beautiful that he wanted them wrapped around his head so many times and the soft, squishy mound between them. Fuck, he wanted to taste you.

“Sweetheart, you’ve no idea what you do to me.” He says, voice strained.

“I’ve a rough idea, probably the same as what you do to me.” You smirk, taking his hand and guiding it to where you can already feel your sopping folds.

A soft ‘fuckkkk’ was groaned when he felt how soaked you were, and he hadn’t even touched you yet.

With the speed only he could have, he is suddenly on his knees, strong body separating your thighs so he can look at your most intimate places. You squirm under his gaze, charcoal eyes so intense you feel like he can see right through you. Before you can think, he’s licking a long, sloppy stripe from your dripping hole to the precious little pearl above. You can’t hold back the moan that escapes you at the feeling of his mouth – until he does it again. This time, with more precision, a look on his face of pure determination and concentration, he was now lapping at your slick like you were an oasis in the desert. The fiery heat in your stomach intensified to a scorching level when he brought up his pretty pink lips to wrap around your little nub and gently suckle, your thighs clenching around his head and hands tugging at the roots of his hair at this new action – oh, he found what you liked. You were so focused on the feel of his mouth and the coil in your belly tightening that you don’t register the finger circling your entrance until it’s dipping into you, and you gasp, back arching at the delight of this foreign intrusion. You mewl as he adds another and curls them inside you, searching for that sweet spot. He knows he’s found it when you mewl into the night, and you can feel him smirk against you. Fuck, you were right. Those hands – magical.

“Jesus, ‘Kashi. I’m so ah – so close, fuck.” Your voice is almost unrecognisable, breathy and heavy simultaneously.

He groans into you.

“Good girl, cum for me sweetheart. Let me taste you.” He says, only detaching his mouth long enough for the words to come out. He snakes his free hand up to pinch and tug at your nipple and you’re sent careening over the edge – body tensing and arching off the ground into his face and body as waves and waves of heat and pressure release from your wound-up body. He slowly lets you ride out your high on his fingers and mouth before pulling away and dropping a kiss just below your navel.

“Need you, ‘Kashi. Please.” You mumble, already slurring your words and so, so desperate to be filled.

“You are sure, sweetheart?” He asks, swiping a thumb across your lower lip. You nod, then wrap your lips around his finger and reach out the undo the fastening of his trousers. You pull his pants and boxers down in one swoop and you think you’ve died and gone to heaven – is this real? Is this man real? Surely not.

A pretty, pale pink, uncut cock slaps up against his stomach - easily the largest you’ve seen, about 8 inches and thick enough that you think you’re going to need both hands to handle it, because one surely won’t do. The flush tip is dripping with shiny droplets of precum, spreading across his very-lickable abs.

You can’t help it – the whimper comes out of your mouth as you lean forward in hopes of catching him in your mouth. A hand grips your hair just as you slide your tongue out pas your lips.

“Sweetheart – as much as I want to see those pretty lips around my cock – I gotta feel you now. I have to be inside you.” He mutters.

“Please, ‘Kashi – just a little taste.” You bargain with him, eyes wide and pleading.

He might just cum on the spot.

He can’t deny that pretty request so he relinquishes his hold on your hair and you dart forward, soft, warm, wet tongue licking a languid stripe up the midnight blue vein on the underside of his cock and he reaches an arm, pinching his wrist to make sure this isn’t a dream. When he felt the pinch, he realised this was really happening, you were real and here and so was he. All those years of pining and dreaming were coming to fruition.

He lets you continue for a few more licks before he grips your hips and lays you on your back, large hands spayed across the flesh and digging squeezing tightly.

He leans down, locking lips with you once more as he grinds himself into your warmth, hissing in unison with his tip catching on you clenching hole.

Thank fuck for your contraception is all you can think.

He adjusts himself and even your own arousal and post orgasmic bliss didn’t prepare you for the initial tip as he slowly slides the mushroom tip of his cock into you, the burn didn’t last for long however, pain making way for pleasure as in one swift thrust, he sheathes the rest of himself into you – walls so wet and warm he thinks he might stay like this forever. He gives you a second to adjust before he feels you start to squirm under him, experimentally rolling his hips to meet yours and the noises you both let out could have been a symphony – the feeling of being wrapped up, tangled together was otherworldly. His thrusts grew deeper and deeper as he once again latched his teeth onto your throat. You could feel him holding back, and that simply wouldn’t do.

“Ah – ‘Kashi, fuck – ruin me, don’t hold back – please.” You say, intentionally squeezing around his cock.

“Say please.” His gruff voice calls into your ear.

“Kashi, just – fuck, faster.”

“Say. Please.” Each word was punctuated by a brutal thrust and a sinful smirk.

“Please, Kakashi. Please – ruin me.”

With that he lifted your shaking legs so your knees rested on his toned shoulders, ANBU tattoo contrasting his pale skin. He noticed yours simultaneously, pressing a kiss to it.

The moment of tenderness was quickly shattered when he gripped your waist with a pressure that would definitely result in bruises and begin to drive his cock into you at an unforgiving pace. The air knocked from your lungs; you could feel the winding spring beginning to tighten in your belly once again.

“Pretty cunt squeezing me like fuckin’ vice. As if you weren’t tight enough already.” He growls as he feels your orgasm approaching and his words have you coming undone around him, soaking his cock.

His hips stutter as your gummy walls flutter around him and he’s seconds away from reaching his own Euphoria.

“Where can I cum, sweetheart?” He whines, and the Copy Ninja of Honoha whimpers at your reply.

“Inside. Please, inside, make me yours.” You reply, tugging on his hair at the nape of his neck.

With this, his hips still as his balls contract and he empties himself inside of you, warmth flooding your sense and body milking him for all he’s got. You both sit there to catch your breaths for a second, basking in the afterglow.

Then, you start to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, sliding to lay beside you, arm wrapping around your waist.

“I can’t believe you actually thought I was Naruto’s sexy Jutsu, and that your first reaction was to throw a weapon at it.” Your giggles overtook you as you remembered the events that lead to this moment.

He groans in response.

“Never living that down, am I?” A sly smile illustrates he’s not actually that upset about it.

“Not as long as I’m around.” You reply, lacing your fingers with his and lifting your gaze to meet his steely one.

“And how long will that be, sweetheart?” He says, stroking a thumb over your cheekbone.

“Forever, if you’ll have me?” You softly smile in response, leaning into his hand.

“Of course, I will – been yours since the day you slapped Obito for saying dolls were silly when we were 10.” He laughs at the memory, and you giggle at the image of a shocked Obito who decided then and there that he was your friend, a snickering young Kakashi standing nearby.

You’re both silent for a second.

“I love you, ‘Kashi.” You whisper.

“I love you too.”

The nightingale’s song provided the soundtrack for the long-awaited confession between the two of you, a sound which would forever be imprinted for the rest of your lives together as what marked the start of your relationship.

You untangle yourself from him, standing up and the starlight highlights the dribbles of his essence crawling down your inner thighs.

“Wanna join me in the spring? Seems I need to bathe again.” You smirk, hips swinging and eyes glancing over your shoulder as you make your way to the water.

“Y/N, the day I say no to that, kill me because I’ve surely gone mad.” He says and swipes you over his shoulder like a rag doll and slaps a large around across the fat of your ass.

#kakashi hakate #kakashi smut #kakashi x you #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi x reader #Naruto fics

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the-mighty-mittens · 3 months

Text

I did a bunch of Castoff incorrect quotes, you wanna see?

Of course you do

Marina: Pick a card, any card.

Rori: Fine.

Marina: Wait, that's my credit card!

Rori: You said any card.

Marina: *running towards Arianna with open arms*

Arianna: *moves out of the way*

Marina: Hey, why'd you move?!

Arianna: I thought you were going to attack me.

Marina: I was going to hug you!

Arianna: Why would you hug me?

Marina: WHY WOULD I ATTACK YOU!?

*when a child starts crying in public*

Sage: *tries to make the child laugh*

Frankie: *tries to play a game with the child to make them calm down*

Marina: *gives detailed instructions to the parents*

Rori: *cries with the child*

Arianna: *ignores the child*

Vector: *is the reason why the child is crying*

Vector: Man, it smells like wrongdog out here.

Arianna:

Arianna: Vector, are you alright?

Vector: *sobs*

Vector: A sprite is anything not static.

Sage: A sprite is a variable object, be it 2d or 3d.

Rori: A sprite is a fucking soda.

Rori: You god damn geekass bastards.

Vector: Does anyone know how to relax? Asking for a friend.

Vector: *walks to cabinet, removes oreo box, takes half a sleeve, throws empty box out* Hi!

Rori: Hey- what are you doing-?

Vector, shoving an oreo into their mouth: I am saving space :D

Rori: I’ve been described as a ‘heartless villain’ and a 'little shit’, but I prefer… 'has alternative ways of having fun’.

Rori: You’re kind of a pushover, aren’t you, Vector?

Vector: …I’m sorry.

Rori: See!? That’s exactly what I’m talking about!

Arianna: Can you PLEASE peer pressure me into doing my project?

Sage: Do it or you're straight.

Arianna: I said peer pressure, NOT THREATEN!

Arianna: Oh, so when crows remember people who wronged them and hold grudges, its “intelligent” and “really cool”.

Arianna: But when I do it, I’m “petty” and “need to let it go”.

Vector, texting Arianna: Arianna there’s a moth on the outside of the bathroom door can you get rid of it?

Vector: Pls hurry because I’m going to cry

Vector: Arianna

Arianna: Arianna is dead. You’re next. Love, Moth.

Rori: Did you just call me a shrimp, you asshole?! I'm still growing, dammit!

Arianna: That's it, I'm cutting off the internet!

Frankie: No, please don't! I have a family to feed!

Arianna:

Arianna: What?

Frankie: I need to feed my Neopets!

Arianna: You know you've made it when you see your picture everywhere you go.

Marina: Those are wanted posters!

Marina: An apple a day keeps the doctor away!

Rori: An apple a day can keep anyone away if you throw it hard enough.

Vector: *eating a cinnamon roll*

Arianna: Cannibalism.

Vector: *confused chewing noises*

Sage: Where is Vector?

Marina: I'll do you one better, who is Vector??

Rori: Here's a better question, why is Vector?

Arianna: BEHOLD, the field in which I grow my fucks! Lay thine eyes upon it, and thou shalt see that it is barren!

Vector: Arianna.. I'm gonna cry!

Arianna: Please don't.

Vector, crying: Request denied.

Arianna: Respect my trans homies or I’m gonna identify as a fucking problem.

Vector: What’s it like being tall?

Rori: Is it nice?

Vector: Can you reach comfortably for the cupboards?

Frankie: We live in constant fear of the short ones who, in my experience, will climb four chairs, two boxes, a small coffee table, and six oddly placed stools to get what they want.

*in a group chat*

Marina: First one to reply is gat.

Marina: *gay

Marina: Wait...

Marina: What did you get on your shirt?

Rori: Rust.

Marina: From what?

Rori: Weapons.

Arianna: Time for more adult supervision.

Bonus Zebra herd quotes!

Zera: "You look tired" well, the torment is relentless and the horrors never cease.

Zera: Hi, who's this? Terran changed all of my contacts to mythical creatures.

Liam: What's mine?

Zera: Dwarf.

Liam: THEY'RE SO MEAN, I'M NOT THAT SHORT!

Zera: Oh, hey Liam.

Liam: FUCK!

Liam: Oh gosh I wish I got more sleep I only got six hours!

Sonja: Six? I only got three!

Terran: You guys got sleep?

Zera, comes stumbling out of their room and grabs a jug of coffee before saying: What year is it??

Terran: Do you guys want to see a butterfly?

Liam: Ooh, yes please!

Zera, with their laptop open: I'm not going to stop working to look at a stupid bug!

Terran: It's not a bug though...

Zera: ...

Liam: ...

Zera: Well I still don't want to see.

Liam, realizing: Please don't throw-

Terran: Whee! *throws a stick of butter*

Zera: Self-care is suppressing all your trauma until it comes back and hits you in the face with the force of 7 very large trucks.

#Castoff #Incorrect Quotes #I'm turning a bunch of these into memes #I have more but they're screenshots I took at like 3 am and may or may not actually be funny

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thepringlesofblood · 3 months

Text

the summoning choreography chart

lads the autism got me again. we're in npmd lockdown.

I finally managed to figure out which little 'dance' belongs to each Lord In Black in "The Summoning" bc its hard to tell and it was bugging me. here's a vid for reference.

wiggly - space invaders lookin shit probably meant to be emblematic of his mouth tentacles (0:58, 1:52)

nibbly - licks his lollipop - when others do this they mime licking their hand or any other prop they're holding (1:06, 1:15)

blinky - makes a little triangle w his fingers and looks through it (when pokey does this he looks through his mask) in a sweeping left to right motion (his left). (1:12, 4:53)

tinky - both arms out front and then both arms back cross-country skiing vibes (4:58)

pokey - alternates one arm up one arm down giving drama, michael jackson, disco vibes (1:01, 1:09, 1:19, 3:01)

they each start 'out of the depths of hell and back' doing their own dance and then switch around doing each others dances until 'you summon us once, you summon us twice'

when I compared it to the digital ticket version and I was able to determine the exact order of each Lord's choreography

so i made a chart for yall who wanna learn the summoning choreography under the cut.

i need to sleep

glossary of dance moves and the shorthand i used for them.

im not a choreographer. i am bad at describing how people move in space. so. I used timestamps from the reference video from before. please god do not follow my mediocre descriptions - watch the people in the video do it and copy them.

W - Wiggly (0:58, 1:52)

N - Nibbly (1:06, 1:15)

B - Blinky (1:12, 4:53)

T - Tinky (4:58)

P - Pokey (1:01, 1:09, 1:19, 3:01)

SS - shoulder shimmy (1:21, 4:05, 5:12) (the lords in black-ah, the lords in black-ah)

JN - jerky nod (1:25, 2:26, 5:06) (the devil has won it can't be undone)

KK - karate kid (wax on/wax off) (2:29)

KKT - karate kid tree edition - there’s one wax on for each side and then they do a thing in the middle that looks kinda like a tree. Idk how else to describe it thats why i add timestamps. (5:00)

WW - whatever we want (2:57)

TR - tra la la la (the skip they do on Stephanie has got a gun) (4:31) (it's hard to see in this version, i highly recommend checking out the digital ticket version if possible. they show this move first in the proshot bc they focus entirely on steph for the next line, but it does go second in order behind KK - you can see jon start to do KK at the transition into chunk 5 in the ref video, and at the end of the chunk he's bent forward bc he just got done doing the bowing part at the end of TR (you can see pokey doing that like 3 seconds earlier after nibbly does the skipping part)

i divided the song into chunks based on when the singing/dancing starts & stops.

Chunk 1 (0:58-1:31)

Chunk 2 (1:52-2:00)

Chunk 3 (2:26-2:32)

Chunk 4 (2:57-3:04)

(they don't dance on 'we don't give a shit about your phone' but it's b/w these two chunks in case you're interested)

Chunk 5 (4:31-4:37)

Chunk 6 (4:53-end)

The dance changes every two lines-ish, and each time they all change together. they all do the same thing for chunks 3-5 so I only included it on the first one (Pokey)

each lord in black does each move a lil differently so don't sweat if you can't do it the exact same way as the one (1) example I was able to find of x move in the proshot lol

Pokey Chunk 1

KKT

Chunk 2

Chunk 3

Chunk 4

Chunk 5 (Stephanie has got a gun)

Chunk 6

KKT

Nibbly Chunk 1

KKT

Chunk 2

3-5 are the same Chunk 6

KKT

Wiggly Chunk 1

KKT

Chunk 2

3-5 same

Chunk 6

KKT

Blinky Chunk 1

KKT

Chunk 2

3-5 same

Chunk 6

KKT

Tinky (curt ATE in this role lets be real)

Chunk 1

KKT

Chunk 2

3-5 same

Chunk 6

P (ooh a break w tradition rip nibbly tho)

KKT

#npmd #original post #starkid

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pisupsala · 2 years

Text

One for The History Books [Chapter 4] [Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw]

[Summary] You are an archivist at the Pentagon, sent on assignment to TOPGUN to catalog and report on a top secret mission. In the days under the Californian sun, a certain naval aviator puts your once orderly life in a tailspin that you might never recover from.

[Pairing] Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!reader / Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!oc

[Warnings] Mature content: swearing, (explicit) smut. 18+ only. Explicit content from the start in this chapter.

[Words] 3.6k

[Library]

One for The History Books - Chapter 4: Anchor

You wake up early on Saturday morning. Bleary-eyed, you look at your phone. Barely 5 AM. Fuck. You toss and turn in your bed, as the early morning light streaks through the blinds. Sleep is elusive now—you feel too warm and too uncomfortable in a way that has nothing to do with the temperature. You lay on your back with your arm draped over your eyes, shielding them from the incoming light. Biting your lip, you wonder if it really would be so bad… You rub your thighs together. It feels like there is pressure building in your lower stomach. Slowly, you allow your other hand to wander down to the waistband of your shorts. You let out a breathy sigh, as your thoughts naturally move to a certain tall and dark-eyed fighter pilot. It's as if all the feelings and emotions from the past week have decided to come ahead this early morning, and now you desperately need to release some pressure. You hesitate for a moment. Are you really going to do this? Thinking about him? Skimming your fingers along the elastic of your short pajama bottoms, you decide that this will just be your own dirty little secret. Dipping your fingers into your shorts, you start gently sliding your fingers down your slit. You are wet and incredibly horny. Spreading the wetness with your fingers through soft ministrations, you give your fantasy free rein. You know Lt. Bradshaw is in incredible shape—that much was obvious through just his shirts. You imagine his chest to be tanned too, and god, those pecs must look and feel glorious. Your fingers move to your clit. You hum as your fingers rub the bundle of nerves. Fuck… You can just imagine his hot fingers instead of yours, his mouth on yours, whispering encouragements and absolute filth. You press harder. Taking your arms off your eyes, even though you keep them shut, you yank up your shirt. You lick your fingers and start pinching your nipple—the added sensation makes you squirm. His deep, warm voice is echoing in your mind: That's it, atta girl. You are just soaking for me, aren't you? Just the way I like you. He would hook your legs over his broad shoulders and eat you out. You can only imagine how diligent and mission-driven he would be—relentless. You start rubbing faster. Your hands in his hair, tugging him closer, riding his face. His hands roaming your body. You tilt up your pelvis, tightening your muscles. Fuck, you are so close already. Your movements get rougher, breathing heavily. A whisper in your ear: Come for me, darlin'—come hard. You bite your lip as you moan, somewhat conscious to keep it down. The pressure is building more and more, it's delicious in its promise of release. His hand on your throat, love bites on your chest, his body weighing you down. Fuck fuck fuck! A strange sense of relief washes over you as you orgasm and your muscles finally relax. You lay there, panting, looking up at the ceiling, eyes now wide open. Here's to hoping this is out of your system now, although somewhere… you sincerely doubt it. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's a beautifully sunny day, and you're looking to get off base to do something that's not work-related for once. You've booked yourself a massage that afternoon—your job has you hunched over a desk and moving heavy boxes, so your neck and shoulders are due for some much-needed relief. You are looking forward to browsing some shops, maybe getting something of a little souvenir for yourself, grab some lunch—all in all, a nice relaxing day to take your mind off things. You dig up one of the summer dresses you brought from home, finally having somewhere to wear it. While your job is not in any way "customer" facing, you have to wear proper office attire. Like a pile of paper cares how you're dressed. All the slacks, button-up shirts and skirts you have been not great in the Californian summer, but this trip hardly warrants a new wardrobe.

You slip on your sandals, touch up the sunscreen on your face, and start making your way out the door, grabbing your purse and key on the way. While it's nearing noon, the hall of your barracks building is quiet. Riks is probably, hopefully, still sleeping off whatever barracks party he was at last night. Putting on your sunglasses, you swiftly make your way to the parking lot. You hope you don't run into anyone, a certain someone in particular, as you don't think you could look him in the eye after the morning's escapades. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your afternoon has flown by—your shoulders and neck are still tender from the massage. The lady at the salon even commented on how knotted up your muscles were and offered a deep tissue massage to actually give you some relief. You enthusiastically agreed, but as the lady went to work on you, you for a moment thought she was going to squeeze the soul out of your body. The rest of your afternoon was filled with lunch, iced coffee, and bookstores—new and antiquarian—just because you didn't want to think about work, didn't mean you could resist a good dig around old books. You're proud of yourself for actually not going overboard, just leaving with a romance novel and a book on the history of aerial warfare. No, this has nothing to do with anything, you just didn't have a book like that yet in your collection, and a romance novel is just nice sometimes. As you drive into the base parking lot at the end of the afternoon, you are looking forward to an evening with your romance novel, a face mask, and a chilled glass of wine. You see a few people, most likely sailors and ground personnel, milling about the parking lot as you park. Getting out of your car, you contemplate stopping by the store on base for some ice cream on your way back to barracks. You are just about to grab your bags from the passenger's seat when a deep voice rings out:

“You! Hold it right there!” You stand up so quickly, that you nearly hit your head on the door frame. Legging it towards you two rows over is Vice Admiral Simpson. Suddenly you become aware that everyone that had just been around the parking lot disappeared. Motherfucker, are they hiding? Skating pieces of… What could this possibly be about? You're a civilian, so there's really no reason Simpson could realistically want something from you on the weekend. But then again, this is just your kind of luck.

“Vice Admiral? What is going on?” As he approaches you, you see he's actually angry. He seems to slow down minutely when he sees it's actually you, not one of his subordinates in civilian clothes. “My car overheated -” He says brusquely. “And I need to get somewhere asap. I need you to give me a ride.” Can you really say no? Ugh. “Sure.” You say, smiling politely. You start moving toward the driver's side.

“Actually, just give me your keys.” He interrupts you. He seems stressed. “It'll be faster if I just drive myself.”

“So...you wouldn't need me to come?” You are almost hopeful.

“This car is rented by the DoD, isn't it?” He looks exasperated he even needs to have this conversation with you. You just nod. “So you have to go too.”

Shit. Stupid rules. DoD rented the car for you, so technically you are the only one allowed to drive it. Insurance and liability. So, now you are not only technically breaking the rules, by letting Simpson drive, you have to go along for plausible deniability. So much for a quiet evening in. “So, where are we going?” You ask conversationally as Simpson pulls out of the parking lot with more speed than would be strictly speaking necessary. Glancing out of the passenger's window, you see two sailors crouched down between the cars. Assholes.

Simpson doesn't answer you, at least not directly.

“If Maverick took them where I think he did…” He angrily mutters.

Wow, this is really going great. If it has something to do with Captain Mitchell, and it has Simpson this riled up, it's probably connected to the mission—which, still by all accounts, has not been going according to expectations. Daily debriefs are still full of trouble with speed, lack of teamwork, and infighting. Simpson takes a sharp turn onto the gravel path leading up to the Hard Deck. Your stomach clenches. Why did he take you here?

Without a word, he starts getting out of the car—not wanting to get locked in a sweltering car, you just quickly grab your purse and get out too. It's only then that Simpson turns to you.

“This stays strictly off the record.” His voice is hard. “I trust your integrity on this.”

“Yes sir.” Your voice is a bit higher than you would have liked. What are you walking into here? What could be so horrible it needs to stay off the record? A hazing? Your mind is going a mile a minute.

Just how complicated is this going to get?

You follow a few feet behind Simpson as he legs it to the beach. It's the early evening and the Hard Deck hasn't opened yet. Without a second thought, he walks into the sand in his uniform loafers, his goal in sight at a beach chair down the beach. You balk at the sand line.

Of all the scenarios—most of them of the worst-case variety —you were imagining you were walking into… nothing could have prepared you for this.

The whole team is playing football at the beach. Your brain can barely comprehend… well, pretty much anything at this point. The whole mission team is running around, having fun, most of them shirtless with incomprehensibly good physiques. You swallow. You cannot even pretend your eyes didn't search for Lt. Bradshaw immediately. He looks every bit as good—no better—than you imagined. Tanned, glistening muscles in the sun. Oh, god. Off the record, you will commit this scene to memory.

“Hey, you want to join me here for a bit?” You whip your head around, cheeks burning. You had not even noticed someone else there. At a table on the patio of the Hard Deck sits a lady, you vaguely remember her as the bartender.

“Just thought you might need a breather after Cyclone dragged you in.” She continues, as you don't immediately react.

“Ah, I'm sorry, thanks.” You say, half-dazed, as you make your way to the table. You suddenly remember Simpson's call sign being Cyclone, and how incredibly apt that actually is.

“I'm Darcy.” You introduce yourself.

“Penny.” She appraises you. “Nice to meet you.” “Likewise.” You smile as you sit down across.

“You're not a pilot.” She states matter-of-factly. You blink. That much should be obvious from your person. “So, how did you get caught up in this?”

“Ehm- just the wrong place at the wrong time.” You answer noncommittally.

“Oh, indulge me.” Penny smiles conspiratorially. “Cyclone usually drags some poor, disoriented private in his wake, but never a young lady in a sundress.”

You sigh. “That's why they were all hiding in the parking lot.” Penny's smile grows. You have a good laugh at your misfortune with Penny, and it makes you feel a little bit better that it's not personal, this is just how Simpson is. Which truthfully makes him an ass.

Penny is nice, chatty, and a gossip. She makes it her business to know people, which is how you assume she keeps a bar full of sailors and naval pilots in line. She is at ease with herself, with effortless confidence that you can't help but envy.

You stare out the shoreline. The team is still playing—yelling at each other, tackling, and celebrating. You watch Lt. Bradshaw move around on the wet sand. He's agile, and watching him command his team is actually giving you butterflies. From the corner of your eye, you see Penny looking wistfully out to the beach, too. “So, which of those fine pilots has caught your eye?” Penny inquiries conversationally. “I could ask you the same thing.” You counter, not planning on making this one easy on her.

Penny laughs. “No, these are all too green for me.” “Including Captain Mitchell?” You intone mildly. “Oh Darcy! You are all sweet smiles and blushes, but you know how to dish it.” Penny eyes are filled with mirth.

“So… I'm right.” You conclude lightly, smile on your face. Penny waves her hand. “All water under the bridge, really. And don't change the topic.” You just raise an eyebrow at her. So there's a story there, interesting.

“If you don't tell me, I'm going to guess.” Penny interrupts your thoughts. Oh god, she's really not going to let this go. She rests her chin on her hand, thoughtfully. She's enjoying this far too much. “Hangman is usually the one who pulls the unsuspecting civilian girls.” You wrinkle your nose at the mention of Seresin.

“Nah, I didn't think so. You're a bit too sharp to fall for that one.” “What makes you think I've fallen for anyone, period?” Oh lord, you gave it away now. That sounded way too defensive. Why can't you just keep your mouth shut?

Penny just smiles enigmatically. You try to keep your face neutral in turn. No reason to give her even more incentive to dig around, and god forbid, meddle. You look back at the team playing. Your eyes automatically follow Lt. Bradshaw. Your stomach clenches at the thought of him being so close. He hasn't noticed you, and somewhere the idea of him seeing you here makes you so nervous, you'd almost rather just make your escape back to barracks without him ever knowing.

“Aha!” Penny is gleeful now. You realize you completely zoned out while Penny must have been talking. “Sorry—I, ah-” The words won't come out. You're pretty sure Penny has you now.

“It's Rooster, isn't it?” Her voice is suddenly surprisingly soft. You turn to Penny—the mirth has gone from her eyes, and a more kind, almost motherly warmth has replaced it. You don't confirm or deny—there is little use. “He could use someone to anchor him.” She says thoughtfully. “You chose a challenge with him.” You open your mouth to ask what she means when you hear a car pull out of the parking lot. Suddenly you notice Simpson is nowhere to be seen. It feels like a bucket of ice was dumped down your stomach—did he really just leave you here? You start getting up, eyes wide. What the actual… “I need to go…” You trail off as you try to wrap your head around what seems to just have happened. “Oh dear, you really fell victim to the worst of Cyclone's habits.” You say a quick goodbye as you hurry into the parking lot. Your car is gone. Fuck. You feel the anger rise in you: you never wanted to come here in the first place, Simpson made you, you're not even working today, and now he took your car and your stuff in it, completely ruining your evening—scratch that—ruining your weekend, and it's just the cherry on the shit sundae—ok, you are seething now. Your cheeks feel hot and your eyes are prickling.

With unnecessary force, you start rummaging in your purse for your phone. Just call an Uber, hope it's near, and get this whole farce over with. You are being overdramatic—you're more annoyed at Simpson full-on forgetting you on the beach than the practicality of it. You let out a deep sigh and screw your eyes shut. Somewhere behind you, you hear some commotion. I ignore it as you try to calm yourself and focus your eyes on your phone. “Got washed up by the Cyclone, Miss Williams?” You nearly jump out of your skin, as Lt. Bradshaw —with a shirt on—has appeared next to you.

“God—you scared me.” Your voice is high, and your heart is beating in your throat. “Lt. Bradshaw.” You add, out of politeness. Your cheeks are still burning, it's almost painful as you are more and more aware of it. “You seemed quite lost in thought, Miss Williams.” “Seething, mostly” You quip dryly, willing yourself to calm down. “Was looking forward to some ice cream tonight, but then…” You vaguely gesture at the parking lot. Lt. Bradshaw laughs heartily, his eyes peeking down at you over his sunglasses. You can't help but notice how the setting sun reflects softly off his skin and highlight the golden streaks in his hair. “Good thing I know a great place for ice cream” With that, he grabs your wrist and pulls you to the parking lot exit. “I'm calling in one of those favors now.” Your poor heart is beating so hard that you fear he might feel your pulse from where he is holding your wrist. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “One scoop of peanut butter and one scoop of strawberry. And the lady will have?” “Ah- uhm, a scoop of lemon and a scoop of pistachio, please.” It's only when you stepped into the salon down the street, Lt. Bradshaw actually let go of your wrist. Your heart has taken on a somewhat normal rhythm again. The sales lady hands you your cones, and after Lt. Bradshaw pays (he just shoots you a sharp look as you open your mouth to protest), you are back outside, in the evening sun. You walk next to each other in silence for a few seconds.

“So, why was Vice Admiral Simpson so mad about you playing football on the beach?” You ask conversationally. “On a Saturday, no less.” Lt. Bradshaw chuckles. “Well, technically we don't have the weekend off, and I suppose Cyclone is not a fan of Maverick's….unconventional training methods.” He finishes wryly.” “Sounds like you aren't either.” You quickly lick the side of your ice cream, as it's almost melting over your fingers. “It's not that, the is-” He starts the sentence forcefully, but abruptly cuts himself off. “Let's not talk about boring things like the inner politics of TOPGUN.” You feel like there's something more than inner politics going on, something more personal from the look in his eyes, but decide not to press the matter. You are walking down the street, eating ice cream with the person that has been driving you to insanity with his mere presence. Savor it.

Lt. Bradshaw asks about your work instead—so you indulge him by talking about the books you bought today, the research you are usually involved in, and your ambition to maybe return to school someday, and get your Ph.D. “It's not terribly exciting, I'm afraid.” You say with a small smile. “Miles away from flying a fighter jet.” “But it makes you happy.” Your breath stops for a second. That's the first time in a very long time, someone has noticed your passion for your work. It makes your heart flutter as Lt. Bradshaw looks at you, smiling. “Yeah, I suppose it does.” You suddenly feel shy. “But I'm curious…” As you look up at him, he suddenly grabs your hand with which you are holding your ice cream and unashamedly takes a lick. “Interesting combination.” Lt. Bradshaw concludes, a devilish look on his face. You are mad. But also turned on. God, what is this man doing to you? He just grins at you, challenging you to make a move back.

You don't even consider not taking the bait. You move in on him, confident moves fuelled by a need for retribution, rather than bravery. Grabbing his hand, you guide the ice cream cone he is holding to your mouth, and run your tongue over the side of both scoops in one long lick.

“What delightfully all-American flavors, Lt. Bradshaw.” You tease. “Childhood favorite?” For a split second, there is no hint of a smile on his face, just dark eyes and dilated pupils, a slight blush creeping over his cheeks. The intensity of his stare makes your mouth run dry. Lt. Bradshaw breaks the tension, and laughs. “Can't beat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.” “I don't think I've had one since… middle school.” You admit laughing, too. “Well, shelf-stable food grows on you when you're stuck on a boat for months on end.” “You spend a lot of time on tour?” You ask as you continue eating your own ice cream, desperately trying to keep sinful thoughts at bay about his mouth on you. “Don't have a whole lot to keep me around on the mainland.” He answers a bit guarded, not elaborating. “I guess if you get to fly fighter jets of an aircraft carrier, land duty is a bore. Even if it's in a sunny paradise in the Pacific.” You try to steer the conversation in a different direction. Was this what Penny meant by him needing an anchor? “Something like that.” He nods. “Although I'm with the Atlantic Fleet, so not many sunny paradises on my tour rosters.” As you finish your ice creams, you arrive back at the Hard Deck parking lot. The sun is a final sliver of gold and red above the horizon, casting long shadows. You hesitate for a second—it's Saturday night, Lt. Bradshaw probably wants to go out with his buddies, and you'd be lucky to get an Uber. His hand suddenly sneaks onto the small of your back, as he starts guiding you onto the parking lot. He guides you between cars to a Ford Bronco. “Lt. Bradshaw, you don't have to drive me back if you already have plans…” You start. “If it makes you feel better, I don't, so I'm going the same way.” You are hyper-aware of how close he is to you as you stand on the passenger's side of the car, his hand still on the small of your back. You can smell the sun, sea, and sand on him, and it's making your head spin. You feel like his hand is burning a hole right through your summer dress onto your skin. He moves towards the door of the car but stops, effectively trapping you with your back to the car with his body. Little space between the parked cars leaves little space between you. His hand has slid from your back to rest on your hip. Your breath hitches. The intimacy of the situation is hitting you like a mac truck. He regards you with dark eyes, as he moves his other hand onto your wrist, where he starts rubbing slow circles with his thumb.

There is a tension in the air you don't dare break with words. You move your own hand up his arm that is still holding your hip. The muscles tense and ripple under your touch. You run your fingers lightly over his shoulder and rest your palm on his collarbone. He moves his face close to yours, you can feel his breath on your cheek. You close your eyes for a moment in anticipation, as your fingers involuntarily grab onto his shirt. Feather-light touches of his lips land on your jawline. His mustache tickles ever slightly. You move your head to meet his lips with yours, but he averts your maneuver by moving onto your neck.

He is teasing you as he continues with the barely-there brushes of his lips. At the base of your neck, he just barely nips you with his teeth. You gasp softly at the sensation. You hear him swear under his breath. He lets go of your wrist, and your hand immediately moves up to his neck. You use the leverage to pull yourself closer to him. You want him to kiss you so badly it almost hurts. His fingers skim your bare leg, near the hem of your skirt. You run your fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck. You are so close to each other, breath mingling, but he makes no move to actually kiss you. He plants a soft kiss on your bare collarbone, lazily kissing his way up your neck again, towards your ear. He breathes hot air into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

He chuckles. That's it. Lt. Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, known for his cautiousness, is just an enormous fucking tease. You are at the end of your tether and want, need, something more now. Hand on his jaw, you gently guide him to look at you. His breath quickens a bit. You bite your lip as you take him in—the dark eyes, the curls, the small scars, and the look of anticipation. You lean in and press your lips against his without a preamble. You sneak your hand around his neck. You move your lips against him slowly, when he doesn't react for a few seconds, you gently nibble his bottom lip.

That kicks him into sudden action. Your back collides with the car as he presses against you. Every line of his body feels more delightful than any fantasy you could have ever dreamed up. Tilting your head, you deepen the kiss.

His fingers sneak under the hem of your skirt, and he splays his hand on your thigh. His other hand has moved up to your ribs, his thumb pressing into you just under the wire of your bra.

You shamelessly let your hand roam over his chest. You feel almost drunk on the sensation of him. As he squeezes your thigh, you can't help but moan in his mouth.

“Fuck darlin', do that again.” He mumbles against your mouth. Chest is heaving, if you hadn't been turned on before, his swearing put you in overdrive.

You press yourself into him with more vigor, as he hooks your leg on his hip. You are standing on your tiptoe now, fingers buried in his hair. It's like your brain has disconnected from the actions of your body, and you move purely on primordial instinct.

Somewhere behind you, the doors to Hard Deck fly open, and lights and voices floor the parking lot. Lt. Bradshaw lets your leg down and rests his forehead against yours. You are both breathing heavily.

“I think it's time I took you home, Miss Williams.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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