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lex-the-flex · 2 days

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Rally On

Art Donaldson x reader

Summary: Feeling confident as a wild card, Art feels that he can accomplish anything with you by his side. That is, his spirit nearly breaks once an old friend enters the sauna.

Word Count: 992

Warning(s): MEGA FLUFF, (a healthy relationship) body appreciation, brief makeout session, slight mind manipulation and lying, cursing, a little nudity, mention of body health, and possessive and protective Art.

A/N: We’re so back bitches! I love Challengers to death and this movie lives rent free in my head. Feedback is appreciated and enjoy!

Lying inside the dark hotel room, the rustling winds outside settles, allowing the piercing sound of a phone alarm to echo in the calm bedroom. Bursting awake with a displeased groan, Art Donaldson checks the time, numb to the feeling. Sinking back into the duvet bedding, the faint light of the early morning peers through the thin curtains.

Shifting beneath the comfortable bedding, Art’s quiet movements stir you awake. Sighing into the plush pillows, you begin to sit up, ready to conquer the day. But Art pulls you back into the bed, surrounding you in his arms.

“You’re not going anywhere.” He teases.

Fighting off the early morning grogginess, Art shifts his body onto yours, and covers you with a series of soft pepper kisses on your collarbones and neck.

“Art, honey.” You whisper.

“Hmm?” He replies.

“We have to get up. You have a big game today.” You say, running your fingers through your husband's hair.

“Fuck the game. I’d rather stay here and fuck you instead.” Art jokes, burying his head in your neck.

Nestling between your legs, Art captures your lips in a passionate kiss, and presses his fingers against your underwear. Moaning at the feeling, the sound makes his ears tingle. Wrapping your legs around his waist, Art holds your arms above your head, holding you beneath him.

“You know, if it were up to me, I’d keep you here. Forever, all mine.” He whispers into your skin before capturing your gaze.

“You fiend. We have a game to win, you know.” You answer with a smirk.

“As long as you’re there with me today, I know I can find you anywhere in the crowd.” Art announces.

Touching your noses together, you nod at Art’s declaration.

“I’ll always be with you, Art. We can accomplish anything through thick and thin, just as long as we’re together.” You reply.

“Then that’s all I need.” He smiles, leaning down to kiss you.

****

The hot steam from the sauna soothes every single lingering pressure and discomfort in Art’s body. From the uncomfortable itch on his left heel, to the surgery scars on his right shoulder, he truly felt at peace in the sauna. Placing a heated towel on his head, Art feels like he can finally relax.

That is, until the door opens.

“I could’ve sworn no one else booked the sauna today. Oh well, we’re all here for the same reason.” Art thinks to himself.

Lowering the towel, the sight of Patrick nearly shakes Art to his core.

“Patrick? What are you doing here?” Art asks, tossing the towel aside.

Closing the door behind him, Patrick appears in the steam, smiling towards Art.

“I’m here to play tennis. What else?” Patrick replies.

Leaning in Art’s personal space, Patrick does his best to get a rose out of his friend, but it doesn’t happen. Much to his dismay, Art has no interest in giving Patrick what he wants: staring at and commenting on his dick out in the open.

Sitting down across from Art, Patrick covers himself.

“You know, it’s disturbing. What you’re doing. I know what you’re trying to do right now —“ Art starts, but is cut off.

“Honestly, I thought you’d be happy to see me, and that I was in the draw. It’s the week before the Open, as in, the perfect confidence booster.” Patrick explains, proud of himself.

Leaning back against the wall, Art folds his hands in his lap, unimpressed by his friends' motives.

“Right. How could I forget? You don’t give a shit.” Art replies, done with this conversation.

“I didn’t say that.” Patrick replies.

“Whatever game you’re playing here, Patrick, it’s not going to work. Not this time. Y/N and I aren’t here to watch you fail. We’re here for me and nothing more.” Art explains, closing his eyes.

“Oh really? Is that why Tashi said that? That the two of you are basically invincible without each other?” Patrick mocks.

Art stares at Patrick for a moment, confused by his words, and only gets a cocky wink for an answer.

“The fuck does that that mean?” Art asks.

“Oh come on, Art! You know Y/N will never be as good as Tashi! Y/N’s just living vicariously through you and you know it! You just won’t admit it!” Patrick nearly shouts.

Shaking his head, Art smiles at his friend’s bullshit, that he’s done.

“You really want to know what I think, Patrick? I think it’s quite embarrassing that you’re here. Trying to challenge us, to continue fighting the ongoing war between the three of us. Honestly, I have no idea where it came from, but Y/N and I just want it to stop. The two of us have been the happiest in the longest time. So, your little mind games won’t work this time, not when Y/N has finally gotten back on her feet again.” Art clarifies.

Glancing at Patrick, he has no idea what Art is talking about.

“Don’t play dumb, Patrick. Since you haven’t been in our lives, Y/N and I are finally pregnant after two years of trying and a few miscarriages. And guess who was there to help and support her? Tashi. Tashi was there when you weren’t. She filled your spot at Y/N’s darkest and believe me, we’ve seen her at her darkest. She knows she won’t live up to Tashi’s reputation, but it doesn’t bother us. What matters is that Y/N is there for me, no matter what. And you want to know why? It’s what married people do. We don’t let the bullshit bother us, because it doesn’t.” Art continues, standing from his spot.

Finally feeling superior to Patrick, Art takes the doorknob in his hand.

“But for what it’s worth, we do miss playing with you, Y/N and I. Just without the competition.” Art states before leaving the sauna like a new man who’s found his calling.

tagging anyone who's interested ~

@dreamliners

@xplore-the-unknwn

@princessismx

@martiansodas-blog

@iholdwhatican

@veryberryjelly

#challengers #challengers movie #art donaldson #art donaldson x you #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson fic #art donaldson fluff #challengers 2024 #art donaldson fanfic #mike faist #challengers film #challengers fic #challengers fanfiction

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tcustodisart · 14 hours

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What are some cute moments that occur throughout the different acts that aren’t necessarily in the game but live in your head rent free?

Oh, this one is going to be a long answer, because there's a lot of squatters in my head and there's a lot to be unleashed. Let's start with this doodle with the boys playing lanceboard at camp and continue under the cut. Lots of cringe and brainrot incoming, so brace yourself.

Act 1:

Connie is constantly bickering with Astarion over him stealing his journal. Gale suggest to cast arcane lock on it, but Connie knows it won't stop that gremlin from reading it so why bother.

This sad pile of rugs is where I imagine Connie sleeps in Act 1. Additional Astarion line: "Damn darling, you live like this?"

During the first romance scene Connie tells Shart about his family, about how he and his brother know the city inside and out, about his parents and the tavern they run, about the trap incident. It's the most he talked to someone who wasn't his family or his crow in years. He wishes that night would never end.

Connie sends letters to his family via Faust, he stops after entering Underdark.

Act 2:

I mentioned it before that Connie is not taking the Shadow Curse very well. He misses the sun, misses the grass, he's unable to contact his family, Shart has distanced herself from him. Karlach notices it and tries to cheer him up. They end up having long talks almost every night. That's the moment their friendship evolves from just friends to besties.

When Connie finds the second warding bond ring, he wishes he could give the other one to Shadowheart, but finds the moment inappropriate. He ends up giving her the ring at the beginning of Act 3.

Act 3:

I have a lot of stuff for this act.

This is inspired by one of Jaheira's lines: "'The Cub and the Crow'- sounds like a cautionary tale. As it probably should." Connie draws her a mock up cover for a kids book. Jaheira sticks it to the traveling chest (I mostly store food there, so to me traveling chest = fridge).

Connie goes through a serious breakdown at the start of this act (after a companion is abducted), he ends up crying and saying that for the first time he doesn't believe they're going to make it, that he'll never hug his mom, never hear his brother sing again, won't be able to tell his step dad that he saw Darkmaw the Wicked. He's being comforted first by Jaheira and then by the rest of his party.

His favorite armor gets damaged one time, he's very upset about it. But the next morning he finds it magically repaired (Astarion fixed it, from the start of Act 3 they become besties).

This wip that I'm very slowly working on happens during act 3. Connie makes some flower crowns and talks about how his mom taught him to do that. I'm not going to say more, because I really want to finish that comic.

Connie has a deal with Popper that he'll pay him double for every night orchid he finds (I actually did that in game, I bantered him more money for the flower than he asked for, I love that little guy so much).

This one is more funny than cute but when Connecticut Tav was younger and still lived in Baldur's Gate he used to visit Sharess's Caress pretty regularly because it was the best way to practice drawing people. He really enjoyed talking with the workers there, he eventually convinced them that maybe creating an union isn't such a bad idea. He ended up being banned from entering the brothel because of that. So when the party approaches it to meet Voss, he's very nervous that the owner will remember him (she does). There's a dialogue in my head but it would work better with some visuals, so maybe one time I'm going to draw it.

In my head, the cottage they end up living in is Connie's old hunting hut. So after the conversation with Shadowheart about her plans for after defeating the brain, he suggest that it would be the perfect place to go. He then draws the house to show her how it looks like, tells her that it's surrounded by a forest, there's a lake nearby, a small stable that can be turned into a barn if needed, and that he's not sure about the quality of the soil, but he did grow some herbs there, so maybe it's going to be good enough to grow flowers.

At the end of the game Connie decides to stay in Baldur's Gate for a while to help his family fix their tavern (which was heavily damaged). He tells Shart to go the house I mentioned before, because he wants her to start her new life as soon as possible + because it would be better for her parents. He stealthily puts his journal in her stuff with a note attached to it saying that he finished it this morning and she can read it if she wants to. He also gives her Faust so she can write him letters whenever she wants to. After 2 tendays he arrives at the cottage with some gifts (night orchid bulbs and a pamphlet about how to take care of them, there was supposed to be another gift, but he wasn't able to find it just yet, but that's for another story).

Epilogue party (because I'm that insane):

It's been sitting in my wips for more than two months, so I don't know if I'll be able to finish it. But during the party Connie and Shadowheart take 10 minute brake to visit the place from the first romance scene. They have a very similar conversation like before, but their roles are reversed now - It's Connie asking questions about Shart's current life. "Tell me something about yourself, but no tadpoles, weird artifacts, petty goddesses. Something about you."

#ask me anything #bg3 #connecticut tav #oh oof this took some time #but know this annon I am giving you a kiss on the cheek and I'm paying for our imaginary kids' collage for asking this question

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cressthebest · 23 hours

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Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 35

chapter 54:

1. “[Pandora] punches the Auror in the face, then almost instantly bursts into tears. Just starts crying, and the Auror looks so genuinely alarmed by this for a second that they don't even move or do anything. This turns out to be a mistake, because while still crying, Pandora throws herself at the Auror like a wild, untamed cat trying to claw their face off.”

😌😌 my feral girl. 🥰🥰 i love her so much

2. am i slightly sorry that lucius is dead, yes? he was part of an unfortunate system and chose the side that most benefited him, even though either option was the losing side. however, i’m not going to say his death wasn’t coming or undeserved. i’ve been waiting for remus to bash his head in <3

3. remus has such an important character arch. he doesn’t have much time for it, but it’s so important

4. ““Pandora… Darling, what would you like to do?"

Pandora steps into view and looks through the bars at Remus with a trembling smile. "I think I'll hold Remus' hand."”

she’s so lovely, my eyes are welling with tears

5. james is so bighearted. he releases all twelve servants and i love him for it

6. NO! FRANK IS DEAD!!! NOOOO

7. “[James] opens his eyes and looks. He'll always wish he didn't.”

8. james just heard that regulus is out safely and is filled with instant relief. i don’t think i can handle when he finds out that sirius didn’t

9. aaaaaaaaand, i’m not okay.

10. james, what the absolute fucking hell are you doing

11. should i be laughing at james’ failed attempt to drive a car? no. firmly, no. (but that scene will live rent free in my mind for YEARS. plsss it’s so funny)

12. oh SHIT. remus doesn’t know about sirius either

13. barty was given a gun and grins. this man is maniacal in every universe

14. “Barty is doing some odd mixture of a warcry and a cackle as the bullets start ripping free.” jesus fucking christ

15. 😦 all that, just for marlene to be SHOT???

16. holy shit. i thought she just died. but SHE LIVED!!!!! (i am not hopeful. she’s the only other one that i care so deeply about that doesn’t have a pov)

17. 🤢 severus

18. author’s notes 😭😭😭 “murder is a crime. but anyway, i support remus' rights and also his wrongs!”

19. 😀😀 wow! zar is fantastic at writing! i am not okay!

#marauders #james potter #jegulus #remus lupin #crimson rivers #marlene mckinnon #tw snape #pandora rosier #pandora lovegood

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macbethsymphony · 1 day

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CHARLOU!!! BB!!! ily so much! oh my gosh you're the freaking best spoiling me like that! Should be freaking illegal! Can I request one more? Only when you have time! But that discussion we had about Buggy has been living rent free in my mind. Fuck! Pretty please~ I LOVE YOU!!!!

-M✨

Mille!!! bb!! You know damn well that it was already half-written. It's been living rent-free in my mind too hun hahahaha (I recommend the Jack Sparrow theme as you read it) Love you too, you horndog <3

In Search of Shanks

Buggy x Fem!Reader

wc: 2.9k

warnings: NSFW, 18+, MDNI, rough sex, drunk sex, slight alcohol abuse, there's no plot people... it's just smut

Summary: While traveling through the grand line in search of Red-haired Shanks you encounter Buggy the Clown... and things ensue

You were already wasted as you stumbled into the fourth bar of your night. No one knew shit. The bastard’s location still remained a fucking mystery.

“Hi there,” you drawled at the bartender as you slumped none so elegantly down on the standing stool. “Know anything about the whereabouts of Red-haired Shanks?”

The bartender glanced at you, raising an eyebrow as he wiped down a glass. “Shanks, huh?” he repeated with a bemused smile. “Been a while since I’ve seen him.” He leaned forward as he continued. “No idea where he went though, lass. Anything to drink?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Figures. The bastard’s slippery as fuck.” You fumbled in your coin pouch, slamming a few berries on the counter with a bit more force than necessary. “Whatever’s cheapest please.”

The bartender chuckled and poured you a mug of something that smelled like it could strip paint. You took a long swig, wincing as the harsh liquid burned its way down your throat.

You turned around, squinting your eyes as you struggled to put into focus your surroundings. This was a sketchy establishment. Musty and falling apart at the seams. Just like you. Your gaze landed on something red, slightly gleaming in the shitty flickering lamplight.

Red nose.

A red fucking nose, huh? What a weird fellow.

Wait.

A red nose should remind you of something. Right! Your mind distantly placed it. Some tall tales recounted around a campfire about being part of Gold Roger’s crew.

Fucking hell.

Lady Luck worked in strange ways.

“Hey! You! Big red nose!” you shouted, pointing unsteadily in his direction.

The men around him stopped whatever they’d been doing, freezing in place as the man in question slowly turned to you.

“What d’ya say?” Buggy the Clown’s voice was precariously calm as his eyes met yours.

You teetered on the edge of your stool, attempted to stand up, the world tilting a little, then slumped back down. “You heard me, red nose. I need to know something.”

“Red nose!” he screeched dangerously, stomping to you, fury evident in his gaze.

You snorted at the display. What was his problem? Men were always so sensitive, you just stated the obvious.

“What about my nose?” he demanded, eyes blazing, a knife finding itself to your throat in a very clear threat.

You met his glare defiantly. He had pretty eyes, now that you could see him up close. Actually, if you got past the nose and the makeup, he was quite handsome. Was that his hair coming through his hat? You rather liked long hair. More to pull and grab. Your stare danced down. Good build too.

You smirked, cocking your head and leaning slightly into the knife. You felt it slice through skin a little. “Careful there, clown.” Your tongue passed your lips, your hand going to the blade, tips of your fingers tracing the steel slowly as you continued. “I might be into that, you know?” you giggled. “But you know Shanks, right? You’re Binky, right?… no was it Baggy… Ah! Booggy!! Ehe, nailed it,” he frowned, destabilized by your drunken train of thoughts. “Anyways, any idea where that red-haired bastard might be?”

Buggy’s eyes narrowed, the blade pressing just a bit more firmly against your neck. It was more of an ego thing now than a threat, though you could clearly see the confusion and irritation in his gaze. “It’s Buggy, you half-wit,” he growled.

You felt a familiar heat pool at your core at the way his voice shrieked… or maybe it was the degradation paired with the knife at your throat… Or a mix of it all. Either way, it made

you smile and lean further into the act. To your satisfaction, he seemed to distantly catch your train of thought. He took a step closer, making you lean against the bar, your back arching under him. “And why should I tell you anything about Shanks?” his breath brushed against your lips.

You snorted, his question unfortunately bringing you back out to reality. “Why, pretty boy?” Your mouth twisted as you slowly removed the blade out of his hand. “Cause the bastard knocked my sister up and left without saying shit.”

The words hung between you for a while. You could see the wheels turning in his mind, working. Then his expression shifted. Disbelief. Amusement.

He laughed.

“Shanks has a kid?” he bellowed and you sighed downing the god-awful booze in your cup.

“Five fucking years old, still hasn’t shown back up and not answering letters,” you added, rolling your eyes. “You guys were in Roger’s crew together, right? You MUST have an idea where he is.”

The echo of his laughter dimmed. He crashed on the stool next to yours, hearty chuckles still shaking his shoulders. “No fucking idea, woman,” he gestured at the bartender to get you new booze.

You slumped down defeated. “More slippery than an eel in fucking oil,” you complained under your breath. A tankard appeared in front of you. You eyed it dubiously, then eyed the clown. “You better be paying, pretty boy,” you said before taking a gulp. It was far better than whatever you’d been drinking before. “Cause I’m flat-out broke.”

Your head hurt. Hurt so fucking bad. You could hear the rhythm of your heart in your ears. You creaked your eyes open, soft rays of sunshine an insult to your very being. You pulled the covers against yourself, fabric dragging along bare skin. Wait. Was that a bed? It was a nice bed. You hadn’t slept in one so comfortable in ages. You caught something blue in the periphery of your vision.

Ah right. The clown.

You looked at him for a bit, sleeping soundly, long hair splattered around him, the sheets barely hiding his naked frame.

Damn, you’d been right. He was a pretty boy.

You tried to get up, but slumped back down just as fast, your body feeling like lead.

Fuck.

Most of the past night was a mystery to you. Though it didn’t take more than adding two and two together to figure out what you’d done with the clown.

Fuck, you could still feel him a little. Though your thighs were clean. Surprisingly gentlemanly. You chuckled softly. Must have been a good lay, shame you didn’t remember.

You spotted a half-empty bottle of booze lying on the floor. You shifted over lazily, tips of your fingers grazing the cool glass before they finally wrapped around it. Expertly you untwisted the cap, bringing the alcohol to your lips.

You smirked. Shit was good quality. Couldn’t be hungover if you were drunk.

You closed your eyes with a satisfied exhale, images slowly coming back to you.

You’d been talking and laughing for a while now. Your conversation had shifted to a more secluded corner of the shabby establishment. You were straddling him as he recounted another unbelievable story, his hand detached as he waved it around, punctuating his words.

You giggled a little, eyes stuck on his lips, not following a single one of his words. Then your mind started going down the slippery slope of the possibilities of his devil fruit powers. You put your palm on his chest, steadying yourself as you looked into the sea of his eyes.

“Say,” you mused drunkenly. “Buggy,” you uttered his name wantonly, dragging it emphatically through your lips, leaning near, breath mingling with his as he slowly stopped talking. “Can you detach, like, everything?”

Your lips almost touched, his gaze sparkled with amusement.

“Everything,” he confirmed your thoughts, inching a little closer. With a flick of his wrist, his hand reattached itself, going to your thigh, traveling up to your ass then to your lower back, slipping under the hem of your shirt as he found his way to your waist.

You let out a small whine as ideas crossed your mind. You smirked as you asked, “Have you ever, like, detached your head to suck yourself?” He chuckled nervously but before he could say anything you continued. “Cause, if it were me,” you moaned, low, pressing yourself against him shamelessly. “I think I’d eat myself out every day.” You rolled your hips. “Fuck, the possibilities.”

You cringed as the memories of your drunken boldness flooded back. You shouldn’t be surprised, you guessed. It was far from unusual from you, and it clearly wasn’t your worst blunder.

He shifted a little next to you, slowly coming back to the land of the living.

You took another sip, the burn down your throat feeling heavenly.

“Mornin’, pretty boy,” you rasped as his eyes creaked open.

He just groaned.

He’d brought you back to his ship, both giggling as you drunkenly tumbled down the cobblestone path. You’d almost fallen off the gangplank as you made your way to the gaudy swaying deck.

As you entered his quarters, his lips found yours, hungry and demanding. Red lipstick and day-old makeup smeared across your face as your tongues met. His body pressed yours against the door, hands not wasting time as he undid your pants.

The kiss broke for an instant as you took off your shirt. Mouths crashing again as soon as the fabric passed your head. Your fingers bunched desperately into his coat before tugging it off with urgency. Your hands traced up his arms, finding muscles you hadn’t entirely expected.

“Buggy,” you moaned into him, a sound muffled against his lips. His hand detached, buried itself in your underwear.

You bucked as the tips of his fingers found the bundle of nerves in small circles. Your nails dug into sinews as you struggled to keep upright. His body leaned further into you, a grounding weight. You felt fingers tangle in your hair, pulling your head back as he trailed down your jaw, the hollow of your throat.

“Shit, you’re wet. Wanna hear you,” he murmured against your ear, tongue meeting your lobe, teeth nibbling.

He pressed a touch harder on your clit and you mewled and swore under your breath for him. Then you felt two of his fingers detach and enter you, lazily pumping in and out.

Oh fuck. That wasn’t fair.

Your hands shot to his head, tossing the hat away as your fingers sought to tangle themselves in his locks. Long blue strands cascaded around his shoulders and your nails found his scalp, digging almost painfully,

He moaned in tandem with you at the sensation, hips rolling against yours, making the palm at your cunt drag harder against your clit. “Gonna cum,” you warned in a high-pitched voice you barely recognized.

Your walls twitched against his fingers as you came undone. He didn’t stop as you rode your high, dancing ridiculously close to the line of overstimulation. As your body slumped, relying entirely on him to hold you upright, digits snapped together, hand slowly retreating before going back at his wrist.

“Fucking hell,” you panted, guiding his head back to yours, lips meeting leisurely. You went to the front of his pants, palming him. “Take me to bed, you pretty pirate captain.”

He chuckled, lust in his eyes. “Say that again.” He grabbed your ass roughly, pulling you up and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist.

“What part?” You licked his lower lip, hands lacing around his neck for support as he made his way to the bed. “Pretty?” You kissed his jaw. “Pirate?” Your teeth dragged on his neck. “Or? Captain?” you whispered in his ear.

He rolled his hips at the last one, the sound of pleasure escaping his mouth obscene. He unceremoniously dropped you down on the mattress, bouncing for an instant. You quickly kicked your boots and removed your pants off, panties and bra following suit, thrown into oblivion.

He started doing the same, shirt discarded but before he could unlace his pants you grabbed his hand, pulling him to you. He stumbled down, your bodies colliding, long hair draping around you as he kissed you.

With a quick movement, you flipped the both of you, straddling him. “You still got those knives, captain?” you asked, grinding yourself on his hips, leaving a wet spot on his pants. “I want you to hold one to my neck as I fuck you.”

He grinned and you suddenly felt cool steel at your neck. “Fucking stunning.” He bucked under you.

You swore as you realized the hand holding the knife was floating, your head lulled back, a needy mewl escaping you. This shit was hot. You quickly made works of the laces of his pants, pulling out his cock.

He was already hard for you, leaking. You traced along him, touch fleeting until you reached the tip, your grip tightening, thumb swiping the bead of precum, gathering it. You brought back your fingers to your mouth, licking them clean, the taste salty on your tongue as you slowly started lowering yourself on him. His hand shot to your hip, fingers digging into the softness of your flesh as he tried to steady himself.

A loud moan escaped him, his back arching, breathing uneven as you took him fully. “Fucking warm and tight,” his voice was shaky.

You didn’t waste time, lazily making your way up and down his cock. The stretch was heavenly. You grabbed his hand at your hip and brought it to your chest. You rolled your hips and his fingers pinched and squeezed for you.

“Fuck, Captain,” you gasped. You went to your clit, fingers expertly circling, matching the movements of your rhythm. You purposely leaned into the blade and you felt blood trickle down your neck. “Fuck.” Your thighs trembled.

“Shit, woman,” he grunted, hips rising to meet yours. “Who knew you’d be such a whore.” Your walls twitched and you stuttered at his words. He smirked. “You like that? Whore?” he punctuated his question with an especially forceful thrust, fingers pinching hard on your nipple.

“Yes!” you cried out, desperately chasing your high. “Oh gods, yes.”

“That’s right.” he started thrusting into you more steadily, making up for your weakening thighs.

One of your hands shot to the hand holding the knife at your throat as you came, holding the blade more firmly against your, your body spasming and folding in pleasure.

You distantly heard him chuckle at the sight. Then you felt yourself be turned around completely, your face burying itself in the linen covers, his cock somehow still pumping into you in the exchange of positions.

The pace he set was hard, fast, rough, just how you liked it. You felt fingers burying themselves in your hair, pulling painfully, then pushing you harshly into the mattress. A staggered scream of pleasure escaped your mouth, drool seeping into the loose weave of the fabric.

Your thighs shook violently, threatening to collapse as overstimulation bordered the edge of your mind. Your fingers tangled in the covers. His hand came to your clit in small flicks. It sent your world careening. You couldn’t breathe properly. You felt threads snap beneath the force of your nails.

“Shit, never asked your name,” The rhythm of his hips was becoming more frazzled, urgent. The hand in your hair pulled you up a bit to hear your answer.

“(Y/n),” you moaned again and again, punctuated by incomprehensible swears.

He chuckled. Your name rolled on his lips. It sounded nice. “Pretty name,” he mused, pushing your head back in the covers roughly. “Fuck,” his fingers circled harder against your clit and tears stained linen along your drool. “Sail with me, (y/n).”

You were too far gone to answer him properly, a second orgasm tingling at the tips of your fingers. “Yes!” you agreed mindlessly, toes curling.

The world disappeared around you as you came, shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you. “Fuck,” you sobbed as your body tried to retract from the stimulation of his touch.

It didn’t take long for him to join you in rapture, suddenly pulling out of you, thrusting against your ass, hot seed spilling along your lower back.

“Mind if I smoke?” you asked as you unsteadily made your way to your pants, discarded on the floor next to a small window. You felt his stare on your naked figure as you bent down shamelessly, looking into your pockets for your lighter and your pack of cigarettes.

“Ya can do whatever you want, woman,” he groaned behind you, his voice still thick with sleep.

You chuckled, bringing one to your lips and lighting it without much thought. You closed your eyes for a moment, relishing the exhilaration that came with the smoke filling your lungs. Your eyes creaked open again, only now noticing the unending expanse of blue in the horizon.

Ahhhhh.

Fuck.

You’d set sail.

You sighed. Didn’t matter.

You took another puff of smoke, turning back to the bed.

“Soooo,” you drawled out the word, the mattress dipping under your weight. You ungracefully made your way to the pirate, straddling him, bottle of booze in one hand, cigarette hanging from your lips. “Captain.” You rolled your hips against him, feeling heat pooling between your thighs as your oversensitive clit caught on his hardening cock. You exhaled, smoke coming out in a hypnotizing pattern. “How about we have some fun.”

He smirked.

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