#SHOCKWAVE ASSAULT

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: They sing going to war

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

While serving alongside the human forces during the Torus Campaign I learned much of their strange culture.

Their need to stack foods in elaborate combinations which they call a “Sandwich”, their constant need to play “The Game” without ever explaining what it is unless to tell you that you have lost it, and even their obsession with petting anything within arm’s reach with an almost religious like dedication; but the strangest custom I only witnessed during the final stages of the war.

We had just deployed over the world of Obidon III and were launching a joint ground assault with the human forces. Enemy resistance was expected to be heavy and many would not survive the drop, but command believed that if enough forces reached the surface of the planet they could establish a beachhead and allow the rest of the contingent to be brought in.

During the decent to the planet all I could do was keep my eyes closed and hope beyond hope that we would survive. I was so lost in this trance like state that my friend Septem had to physically smack me on the helmet to get my attention and tell me to turn my radio channel to frequency 13.

I was confused at first since that frequency was being used for our human allies but he insisted that I would not believe what they were doing. So I reset my radio in my helmet to frequency and what I heard was something I had never expected on a battlefield.

They were singing.

The frequency was chalk full of voices in such volume that I had to turn down the volume but it seemed like every single human that was part of the attach was joining in the song. My translator unit was trying to keep up but the sheer intensity of the humans singing was causing it to drop in and out, picking up every other word.

I wanted to listen closer to them but the enemy flak began pounding the outside of our dropship. Each detonation sent the ship rattling side to side violently. I had just retightened my straps when a shell burst just beneath us sending a shockwave through the ship so strong it sent several of my comrades flying from their seats into the opposite wall. They hit the wall hard and did not get back up when their bodies collapsed to the ground.

All I could think about was how this was the moment I was going to die. This was the moment my existence in this universe comes to its conclusion and I return to the dust and atoms of the cosmos. And as I tuned myself to this reality all I could hear were the humans still singing over the radio.

They must have been going through the same amount of enemy fire as he was and yet still they somehow were still able to sing as if nothing was wrong with the world. I got so focused on their singing that I forgot about my worries for such a time that I was startled when the dropship landed with a loud thud against the planet’s surface and the boarding ramp lowered.

The following battle was a grueling six hour run and gun with the enemy as we tried to carve out a safe LZ for reinforcements. I got separated from my unit on more than one occasion and wandered into the human designated areas in the confusion.

To my utter surprise the humans were still singing.

Clad in their blue and gold armor, they broadcasted their voices from their helmet speakers as they advanced street by bloody street. One of them took shelter with me for a time as we prepared to rush a fortified courtyard which housed heavy anti air emplacement. I nodded a greeting to the human who replied in kind, yet their voice never ceased in song. I saw them rush around the corner and take several heavy rounds to their chest, but the shells ricocheted off the armor leaving only scratches on the paint.

I watched in disbelief as this wild singing human leaped over the barricade and slapped a detonation charge on the anti-air weapon before leaping back as it exploded the weapon. They stood in the smoldering flames to take a moment to catch their breath when a sniper’s round from down the street struck them in the head and blew out a large portion of their cranium. It was the first time during the entire battle I had seen a human die but I did not have long to contemplate it as the rest of the humans charged past, still singing, in the direction of the snipers shot.

Another hour of combat and the landing site was finally secured and reinforcements were brought in to take our positions. What was left of the initial landing force were sent back to orbit and recover and regroup from their losses. Out of my people’s forces I was one of twenty soldiers to have survived. I imagined the humans had lost equally as many until the pilot remarked that additional shuttles had been dispatched to carry their force back up. It seemed that despite the intensity of the fighting only three of their warriors had fallen in battle; one of them including the warrior I had watched fall.

I was beyond myself.

These reckless warriors had somehow survived one of the most intense battles the campaign had seen and only lost three of their number.

Once back on the ship the first chance I could I sought them out for an explanation. They were quartered in the lower reaches of the ship, isolated from the other contingents onboard.

Outside their area were two guards still in full armor that initially would not let me through until one of them recognized me from the fighting in the city. I was then led inside and found many of the humans feasting and laughing. Two long rows of had been setup facing each other; between them were several fires, each with a different animal being roasted over them. At the end of the rows stood three large pyres of wood which held three bodies atop each of them.

As I passed through the humans many ceased their laughter and looked at me, their eyes with suspicion. We made it half way through the throngs when a giant of a human stepped forward and blocked our path. They demanded to know why I had been let it in; going even further to say they will throw me out personally if the answer was not good. The guard who had recognized me said I had witnessed the last moments of one of the fallen and would speak of their deeds. There was a long pause as the large human glared at me, his eyes as cold as the crescent moon of my homeworld.

The human finally relented and let out a loud boastful laugh, clapping me on my shoulders and welcoming me to the feast. Those gathered around cheered and similarly welcomed me now as the ceremony proceeded once more. I could barely say anything as I was seemingly pulled into the celebration. I drank, I ate, I laughed, I even boasted of my own achievements during the battle.

At the height of the feast I was called forward to speak of the final moments of the human soldier I watched die. I learned their name had been Moris Yu, and had served in the human contingent since the beginning of the campaign. I spoke of his final moments, of how he charged the enemy alone and had single handedly destroyed their war machine. I spoke of the snipers bullet laying him low to which all the gathered humans spoke as one “To Odin’s hall he flies.”

With that pyres were set on fire and the bodies slowly turned to ash. I imagine it had some significant ritualistic meaning in human culture but it was beyond me.

After the funeral I asked one of the soldiers the question I had come to them with.

“Why do you sing in battle?”

The human took a long huff from a wooden pipe and blew a cloud of smoke before answering.

“Long ago, my people were raiders and conquerors of the sea.” They began, “Our gods watched over us and should we prove worthy we would be sent to them to join them in their halls and fight alongside them for eternity.”

“There was one warband led by a giant of a man called Osmond Frig. He loved song just as much as he loved fighting, so he made his warriors sing during every fight as it made him happy.”

“They agreed to such silliness?” I asked, to which the human grinned.

“They did after he felled the first three men who laughed at him with a single blow from his axe.” They finished before continuing with their story.

“What was truly surprising was not the sight of these warriors singing, but rather the fact that they were rather good at it. It was said they could make the Valkyries themselves shed a single tear with their songs.”

“Eventually one of the gods, Bragi, noticed Osmond’s warband and took a liking to them. Much like the Valkyries he too was moved by their song and decided to reward them with his patronage. He used ancient magic and made it so as long as the warriors sung they would be impervious to harm of all kinds.”

“So the warband grew in fame and glory as they went conquest to conquest, emerging from battles against impossible odds with nay a scratch on them. First across the northern seas, then across the continent of Europe, and then soon the entire world knew of Osmond; which is when they finally drew the attention of the king of the gods, Odin.”

“Odin watched these powerful warriors and wanted them in his hall for the eternal battle, yet despite every challenge they faced they emerged victorious. No matter what enemy Odin placed in their path or scheme he unleashed on them they refused to fall. Odin knew of Bragi’s patronage and tortured the god to reveal his secret and after seven days and seven nights Bragi told Odin of the spell he had cast and how it could not be undone.”

“But that was all Odin needed to secure his warriors.” The human said with a devil’s grin.

“During the midst of the most recent battle Odin took the form of a mighty warrior and stalked the fields for his prey. He waited for each warrior to catch their breath and cease their song before striking and slaying them, one by one. By day’s end only Osmond remained to fight Odin and though he sang long into the night he too eventually gasped for air and was slain.”

“So that is why you sing?” I asked the human. ‘Because you believe your gods will protect you?”

The human chuckled and nodded to the three pyres. “Did you not say that Moris was only slain after he ceased singing?”

I wanted to counter him with some logic, some reason grounded in reality, but I could not. I left that human area with a profound new perspective of myself in the grand scheme of the universe.

The next time I was in a combat drop my comrades laughed when I began singing. I wasn’t sure if it was good or not, but I hoped that in some way the human god would at least find me amusing and let me live another day.

#humans are insane #humans are weird #humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #scifi #story #writing #original writing #niqhtlord01 #odin #bragi #norse mythology

[bits-and-babs]

Im so sorry I didn’t see this till after request were closed but so idk if you gon see this but, f!reader had her nipples pierced? I’m sorry but I feel like price would be obsessed with readers piercings like if she had a tongue piercing too? Manz would go crazy. Smut? Dw if not <33

✦ 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐄 ✦

– KINKTOBER DAY 6: NIPPLE PIERCINGS

cds!john price x recruit!reader | smut, 18+ | 1.2k words

summary: three months into your sas training course, chief directional instructor captain john price drills you on cold-water-shock survival.

cw: f!reader, cold water shock, power imbalance (recruit x directing staff), secret relationship, breast/nipple play, p in v sex, cream pie.

⇽ KINKTOBER MLIST | DAY 7: INCUBUS ⇾

It wasn’t as though there hadn’t been sufficient warning, but three years of service in the British army was nowhere near enough to prepare your body for the brutal battering that SAS selection subjected it to. Your blisters had blisters, and your body pulsed with a bone-deep ache every time you managed to crawl into bed upon dismissal. 

You had been sufficiently warned… About everything except this. 

Freezing cold water drips from your nose as you hoist yourself out of the pool at the base of the waterfall. Cold-Water-Shock training was a standard part of SAS selection– the ability to control your own discomfort and maintain a level head whilst also teaching the fundamentals of surviving sub-zero. January weather meant temperature levels were unsurvivable past a handful of seconds, and you could feel why. 

The process was simple. Fully submerge yourself into the icy depths before raising to the surface and keeping your chin above water. Next step; breathe. Regain composure and steady your breathing to fight the effects of cold-shock. Recruitment Staff would then ask you a handful of simple questions to assess competency before heaving you out of the water. 

You’d passed, you felt, with flying colours. The savagery of the otherworldly Brecon Beacons had failed to shake your resolve, answering the questions with ease. Even now, drenched to the bone and involuntarily trembling, you maintained a strong eye contact with Chief Directional Instructor Price as he eyed you with a stern expression. 

It’s momentary— barely there. You’d have missed it had you blinked. Price’s thick eyelashes, made damp by the sleet that had been battering the group all morning, dipped below your face. Sapphire blue irises glint in the low light when they zero in on their target. You hadn’t worn a bra this morning given you’d been forced out of bed at the arse-crack of dawn and expected to be in the van within five minutes… They’d left you little to no choice. 

Regardless of this reasonable explanation, you suddenly begin to regret your decision to forgo the cover, Staff Price gazing at the way your grey t-shirt clings to your pebbled nipples and the exposed shape of the piercing balls either side of each mound. 

“That’ll be all, 16,” he says, that raspy grit to his voice warming you from the inside-out. That fever encroaches on the apples of your cheeks when you realise he’s yet to pull his eyes away. 

“… Yes Staff.”

✦✦✦

“You did that on purpose.”

John’s voice, husky and full, was surprisingly even considering how tight your pussy walls clenched around his thick, veiny cock. You wail quietly at the soft breath that dances across your assaulted skin, nipples so incredibly sensitive. Sucked and nibbled and licked, the tender skin screams when Price drags the flat of his tongue over your pierced nipple with a delighted hum. 

“N-No—“ you choke out, the overstimulation of your nipples sending another shockwave of bliss down your spine. You know you’re squeezing him, because John ruts up into your fluttering pussy with a far less composed groan. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to!”

“You’re not foolin’ anyone, Love,” John murmurs, gently taking your pebbled nipple between his teeth and rolling it. 

You see stars— swirls of technicolour dancing behind your eyelids with how tightly you squeeze them shut against the cataclysmic pleasure that seeps between your thighs. When John jerks his hips up again, you can hear how wet you are. It’s sloppy, disgustingly soaked, and Price loves it. 

“Fuckin’— Hah-“ John moans against the supple flesh of your breast, wrapping his lips around it and sucking on the hypersensitised skin. This time, when you arch your back from the bed with a wail of his name, he begins a slow and leisurely pace with his hips. 

Burying your fingers into the short-crop of his hair, you brace against the ticking bomb of your orgasm as it approaches. Each long stroke of John’s hips makes another disgustingly wet sound, your cunt greedily sucking him in and creaming around his throbbing dick as he flicks his tongue back and forth across your abused nipple. His other palm, battle calloused and rough, squeezed the other breast, thumb equally torturing your second nipple. 

It comes in waves; cresting, crashing tsunamis rather than soft laps of the ocean on a beach. A prickling heat that singes away the Beacon’s icy cold from your toes and creeps up the inside of your thighs. Your heart slams against John’s lips, your hands pushing into the back of his head to keep him there while you chase what could only be described as liquidation. 

“Ohmygod—“ you slur, and it’s as though the edges of your vision blacken. In truth, you’re not sure what you call him as you come apart on his cock, sobbing out a hapless string of garbled noises that don’t sound anything like his name. Toes curling either side of his hips, you fail to brace against the overstimulation that rips violently through you. 

“Fucken’ ‘ell—“ he groans deeply, a guttural growl that seems to vibrate the atoms in the air around you. The deliberate, methodical thrusts of his hips suddenly pitch to a sloppy, desperate gallop. John’s hands grasp the bed sheets so tight you almost hear the threads strain against the pull. 

He cums, coating the inside of your cunt with a rumble of your name that sounds so foreign to your ears with the afterglow buzzing in your eardrums. John continues to fuck you through it, taking pleasure in the way you squirm and squeal and cry until his cum seeps between your legs, coating the inside of your thighs with his seed. 

Sharp, heaving breaths echo in his small quarters, and you’re almost certain that his fellow DS had definitely heard you this time. But when John places his damp forehead to yours, eyes closed as he relishes in the bliss of being so close to you for just a moment longer, you struggle to find it in yourself to worry. 

“You should wear a bra,” John mumbles, pressing a kiss to your lips— but missing in the haze of post-orgasm-bliss and settling for a peck on the corner of your mouth. 

“Why?” You muse, still a little breathless as he works his lips down your chin and over your jaw. The gruff, burly Chief of Directing Staff was so affectionate when the door was closed. You knew that this thing you had going on was more serious than a thing when you stopped being anxious about getting caught and being kicked off the course— instead stressing about John offering his tenderness to another recruit. “If this is how you react to seeing me with a wet shirt and no bra, I’ll dunk myself in that water every damn day.”

In a moment of sobriety, John pulls back to look you in the eye. His aquamarine irises hold a heavy seriousness that makes your breath stall for a moment, afraid you’d said something out of line. 

“Love, I completed that whole trainin’ session with a rock hard cock.” 

A beat. 

Just before peals of laughter burst from you. John rolls his eyes, turning onto his back on the mattress. Still, he’s unable to bite back the smile that pulls on his lips.

cod mwii/kinktober taglist:

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@mockerycrow @bubuslutty @cheezitwh0re @haunt3dh3art @levi-llama @thebiscuitsheep @maelstrom007 @alexxavicry @bug-sy-boy @glennrheesworld @kittenfrostt @luvfromkat @blingblong55 @whore4dilfs @wolfyland07 @doggydale @dog55teeth @cabreezer0117 @cathnoneofyourbusiness @marygraceee @thatchickwiththecamera @legend-o-zelda @whore-for-anime @i-love-ghost @cyberpr1m3 @mockerycrow @bubuslutty @lundenloves @cheezitwh0re @haunt3dh3art @babychoi03 @infectedkura @allekat1988 @whore-for-anime @soupbinsoup @passi0np1t @mockerycrow @cyberpr1m3 @i-love-ghost @allekat1988 @infectedkura @babychoi03 @freakquenci @maviee @yunggoblin @sleepystaarr @watyousayin @soupbinsoup @passi0np1t @damn-dean-blog @pheonyxmoon @magicalreviewphantom @limegreenbabx @johfaam0 @iaur @justsayk

@bloodmoon-bites @wiltedwonderland @doggydale @limegreenbabx @namelesshumanperson @ninahhh-brahh

#꒰꒰ ‧₊˚ my works ˚₊· ꒱꒱ #꒰ ‧₊˚ john price ˚₊· ꒱ #john price smut #captain john price #captain john price x reader #john price #john price x reader #captain john price smut #modern warfare 2 #mw2 smut #price smut #cod smut #call of duty smut #call of duty #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod #barry sloane #barry sloane x reader #kinktober 2023

[hoshifighting]

Tease and Release

Synopsis: Where Jeonghan is a fucking tease, and you freak out.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Smut, dirty talk, orgasm denial, degradation, teasing, edging, sensory deprivation, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, orgasm control, overstimulation and etc.

This smut was crafted based on a request by my lovely moot, Asyre. love you so much! I hope you enjoy the smut!

Jeonghan, with his tousled hair and mischievous grin, was your boyfriend, a master of teasing with a penchant for mischief that seemed to dance in his eyes. His teasing wasn't born out of malice or any wrongdoing on your part; it was simply ingrained in his nature, a playful spirit that delighted in seeing you squirm and blush.

But perhaps his favorite moments were those when he could coax a request from your lips with nothing more than a coy smile and a knowing glint in his eye. Your doe eyes, filled with desire, never failed to captivate him. He found an irresistible allure in the way you begged for something, your voice soft and pleading, your hands clasped together in a silent plea.

Jeonghan now hovered over you, his eyes dark with hunger as he held your trembling legs still, a smirk playing on his lips.

"You like that, don't you?" he purred, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine. "Begging for more, just like I knew you would."

You moaned softly, unable to form coherent words as the sensations overwhelmed you. Jeonghan's touch was electrifying, his fingers trailing along your skin with a feather-light touch that left you gasping for air.

"Tell me how much you want it," he demanded, his tone firm yet tinged with a hint of amusement. "Tell me how badly you need me to take control."

Your breath hitched as you struggled to find your voice, your mind clouded with desire. "Please," you whimpered, your voice barely a whisper. "I need you. I need you to...to..."

Jeonghan's lips curled into a wicked grin as he leaned in closer, his gaze burning into yours. "To what?" he taunted, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "To fuck you senseless? To make you scream my name until you can't think of anything else?"

You nodded frantically, your body arching towards him as you surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure. "Yes," you gasped, your voice raw with need. "Yes, please...I need you to fuck me. I need you to make me yours."

Jeonghan's laughter filled the room, a sound that sent a thrill coursing through your veins. "That's it, my little slut," he murmured, his words sending a shockwave of arousal straight to your core. "You're mine now. Mine to use however I please."

Jeonghan's touch was maddeningly slow, his fingers tracing teasing circles around your swollen clit as you writhed beneath him, desperate for release. Your mascara was ruined, black streaks running down your cheeks from the tears of frustration mingling with pleasure. The sheets beneath you were soaked, evidence of your arousal that only seemed to fuel Jeonghan's desire further.

He reveled in denying you the release you so desperately craved, prolonging your torment with each agonizing minute that passed. His lips curled into a wicked smirk as he watched you squirm and whimper, your pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears.

"Please," you begged, your voice hoarse with need. "Please, Jeonghan, I can't take it anymore. I need to come."

But Jeonghan only chuckled darkly, his fingers continuing their relentless assault on your sensitive flesh. "Not yet," he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "You're going to beg for it, sweetheart. Beg for your release like the desperate little slut you are."

You moaned in frustration, the ache between your legs becoming almost unbearable. Every nerve in your body screamed for release, your muscles tense with the effort of holding back your climax.

Jeonghan's cock slid into you with agonizing slowness, filling you inch by inch until you thought you might burst with the overwhelming sensation. But just as quickly as he entered, he pulled back, leaving you aching and empty, your body instinctively reaching for the penetration that had been abruptly taken away.

You whimpered in frustration, your pussy throbbing with need as Jeonghan teased you mercilessly, entering lightly before pulling out again, each movement driving you closer to the brink of madness. Your hips bucked against him, desperate for more, but he held you firmly in place, denying you the release you so desperately craved.

But Jeonghan only chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he continued to torment you with his slow, teasing movements. He loved to see you like this, your body writhing with desire as you surrendered to his control.

Your breath hitched at his words, desire coursing through your veins as you nodded frantically, your body aching for more of him.

"Say it," he demanded, his voice low and commanding. "Say you need me to fuck you. Say it, and maybe I'll give you what you want."

You swallowed hard, your voice barely a whisper as you surrendered to his will. "I need you to fuck me," you breathed, your words filled with desperation. "Please, Jeonghan, please..."

But instead of granting your request, Jeonghan pulled back, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched you squirm beneath him.

"You're going to have to beg a little harder than that." he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

Your frustration boiled over, and with a surge of anger, you screamed at Jeonghan, your voice laced with frustration.

"What the hell are you doing?!" you exclaimed, your chest heaving with pent-up emotions. "Stop teasing me and just fuck me already!"

Jeonghan's eyes widened in surprise at your sudden outburst, but there was a glint of something deeper beneath the surface—a flicker of admiration for your newfound assertiveness.

He didn't respond immediately, instead letting the tension between you linger in the air for a moment longer. And then, with a predatory smile, he decided to "correct" your attitude.

Without a word, he sank his dick deep inside of your cunt, filling you completely for the first time that night. Your scream pierced the air, but this time it was a cry of pleasure, not frustration, as pleasure washed over you in waves.

As you moaned and writhed beneath him, Jeonghan's lips curled into a smirk of satisfaction. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear as he spoke in a low, husky voice.

"See how you talk to me, slut?" he murmured, his tone dripping with dominance. "You want me to fuck you? You want to feel me deep inside you? Then you better learn to ask nicely."

You shivered at his words, a thrill coursing through your veins at the commanding tone of his voice. Despite the initial shock of his sudden assertiveness, you found yourself responding to it, craving more of his dominance, more of his touch.

The headboard rattled against the wall with each thunderous thrust, the sound echoing through the room as Jeonghan pounded into you with relentless force. His balls slapped against your ass, a rhythmic percussion that fueled the fire of your desire.

His cock drove into you with such intensity that it almost reached your cervix, every stroke sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. He looked like an animal now, his primal instincts taking over as he fucked you without a care in the world for the neighbors who might hear or the mess your poor, messy cunt was making around his big cock.

"Mmm...fuck," he groaned, the sound reverberating through the room. "You feel so good, baby. Your cunt...so tight around my cock..."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, but you knew you weren't allowed to cum, not yet. So, you desperately tried to hold back, to stave off the overwhelming pleasure that threatened to consume you.

But Jeonghan knew just how much you loved the way your cunt clenched around his cock when he moaned, and he used it to his advantage. As his moans grew louder and more whiny, he teased you mercilessly, knowing full well the effect it had on you.

"Ahh...fuck," he moaned, his voice thick with desire. "You like it when I moan, don't you? You love feeling my cock twitch inside you, making your pussy clench around me..."

You whimpered in response, your body trembling with need as you fought against the rising tide of pleasure. But Jeonghan wasn't finished yet; he continued to tease you between moans, his words driving you to the brink of madness.

"I bet you're desperate to cum, aren't you?" he taunted, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "But you're not allowed yet, baby. Not until I say so."

You whimpered in response, your body writhing beneath him as you struggled to hold back your orgasm. The sensation of his cock filling you, combined with his teasing words, sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, threatening to overwhelm your senses.

Desperate to maintain control, you contorted your body, burying your face in the pillow and clenching it tightly as you fought against the rising tide of pleasure. Your nails dug into the fabric, threatening to rip it apart as you sought some semblance of relief from the overwhelming sensations.

But Jeonghan wasn't finished yet; he could sense your struggle, and it only fueled his desire to push you further. With a wicked grin, he intensified his movements, driving into you with a force that left you gasping for air.

"Ohhh," you cried out, the sound of ecstasy and surrender as you throbbed around Jeonghan's cock. The sensation of his tip hitting your g'spot sent a jolt of pleasure coursing through you, your eyes rolling back in sheer bliss as your body surrendered to the overwhelming sensation.

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream of pleasure as you creamed around his cock, your essence coating him in a slick sheen of cum. The knot in your belly finally unraveled, releasing the pent-up tension that had been building inside you, and you convulsed on the bed in waves of ecstasy.

Jeonghan watched you with dark, hungry eyes, his hips never faltering as he continued to drive into you with unrelenting force. "Did I allow you to cum, baby?" Jeonghan's voice was low and taunting as he questioned you, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief.

Before you could respond, he took matters into his own hands, punishing you for your disobedience by circling your clit with lightning speed. The sudden intensity of his touch sent a jolt of electricity coursing through you, and you hissed in a mixture of pleasure and pain as you tried unsuccessfully to squirm away from his relentless ministrations.

Your senses were overwhelmed, your body hypersensitive from the intensity of your recent orgasm. Every touch, every stroke of his fingers against your swollen clit felt like fire, sending waves of pleasure radiating through you despite your attempts to resist.

Your teary eyes met Jeonghan's gaze, a mix of pleading and desperation reflected in your gaze as you silently begged for release. He watched you with a smirk, reveling in the power he held over your pleasure.

"You can only cum if I come," he declared, his voice low and authoritative.

You squirmed desperately beneath him, your body on the edge of another orgasm as you struggled to hold back the overwhelming tide of pleasure that threatened to consume you. Your breath came fast and ragged, each gasp filled with anticipation as you awaited Jeonghan's release.

"Mmm...ohh," Jeonghan moaned, his voice husky with desire as he approached his own climax. "Fuck, you feel so good..."

Your moans mingled with his, a symphony of pleasure filling the room as you both teetered on the brink of ecstasy. And then, with a primal roar, Jeonghan came undone, his hot seed filling you up as you cried out in pleasure.

The sensation of his release sent you over the edge, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm as you came around his cock once again. Your moans echoed off the walls. 

Jeonghan withdrew from you, leaving you panting and spent as you lay on your side, your body trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure. Your eyes fluttered shut, a blissful haze descending over you.

Meanwhile, Jeonghan's gaze lingered on your flushed form, a smirk playing on his lips as he admired the sight of his cum spilling out of your well-used cunt. Your swollen clit throbbed with sensitivity, a testament to the intense pleasure you had just experienced.

He watched as you clenched around nothing, your pussy still pulsing with the aftershocks of your orgasm. The sight filled him with a sense of pride and satisfaction, knowing that he had been the one to bring you to such heights of pleasure.

With a satisfied sigh, Jeonghan reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle and affectionate. He leaned in close, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as he whispered, "You were so good for me, baby. You always are."

#seventeen imagines #seventeen reactions #seventeen headcanons #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen #seventeen fluff #svt smut #svt imagines #seventeen fic #svt #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagine #seventeen angst #yoon jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan #yoon jeonghan smut #yoon jeonghan imagines #yoon jeonghan fluff #yoon jeonghan x you #yoon jeonghan reaction #jeonghan smut #jeonghan x reader #svt fanfic #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan angst #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan x oc

[hobiebrownbrowser]

Shower Sex

🔞No Kids Allowed🔞

Hobie Brown x FEM!Reader

Summary: You both decided to try something new for a change.

Contexts: downgrading, 18+, rough sex

You could feel it, His cock down your throat. Water streaming down your body as he face fucks you, Gagging everytime the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat.

Soft whimpers befalling from your lips the more he'd tell you how beautiful you sound, Telling you how your pretty little lips fit perfectly around his cock. Those words stuck in the back of your mind as you unraveled below him.

You're eyes were puffy from the tears that swelled in them. His slim fingers wiping them away before the steaming water could.

"Your doin' so good f' me baby." He hushed your whimpers, The wet sounds of your saliva coated around his cock making your pussy ache. His groans becoming more potent as his movements come to a halt, His hands holding onto the side of your head as his cum makes it's way down your throat.

His long fingers coated with your saliva as he whispers how much of a good girl you are, Wrapping your legs around his waist as he lifts you up, A tight grip on your ass as he sinks his cock deep into you, A groan left his lips, Feeling you clench around him, Your nails leaving claw marks all over his darkened skin.

You Desperately tried to gain some self-control before it was all washed away. Your legs trembled as he assaulted your swollen clit with his thumb, His other hand wrapped gently around your neck. That same smirk on his face as he watches you fall apart against the shower wall.

His thrusts contemplating with every whine you let out. Your vision swelling with tears as his thick cock stretches you open, Your moans becoming louder the closer your orgasm approached.

"That's it' cum f' me luvly." Your voice deteriorated as the tip of his cock kisses your cervix. Your back arching off the cold shower wall as he hits your sweet spot.

A lousy whine escalating into high-pitched screams as he hits that spongy spot inside of you. Your face buried into the crook of his neck as he sends shockwaves throughout your body, His name repeatedly faltering from your lips as you cum for a second time. The water drowning out your cries.

Your legs being hosted over his shoulders, your mind dancing with the clouds as he fucks you raw, Pleading and begging him for more.

Pleasure crawling up your spine as Hobie overstimulates you, His hand tightening around your neck, His thrusts becoming sloppy once he'd found a good rhythm.

His balls slaps against your soaking wet pussy, Begging for him to cum inside of you, Your name quivering from his lips as he did exactly what you begged for. His cum dripping down your thighs as the hot water washed it down the drain.

Hobie turning the water off, mustering up the strength to lead you both out of the shower, Collapsing on the bed before either of you could say anything. Hobie hands you a glass of water a few minutes later, Cooing you out of your delirious state.

His hand caressing your back as you lay there, Taking a longer time to catch your consciousness. Once you do Hobie beckons you to get some rest, His hands wrapped around your naked body.

You nod, body still trembling in his grasp as you slowly calm down from your overstimulated high, Giving him a tired kiss on the cheek before passing out on top of him.

This one is hella short. I'm sorry.

#hobie x you #hobie my beloved #hobie x reader #hobart brown #hobie brown #atsv hobie #hobie #hobie brown atsv #hobie brown fanfiction #hobie brown fluff #hobie brown imagine #hobie brown smut #hobie brown x reader #spiderpunk smut #spider punk #spider punk x reader #spider punk x you #spiderpunk x reader #spiderpunk #18+ fanfic #18+ content #18+ obviously #18+ post #18+ readings #hobie spiderverse #hobiebrown #hobie x y/n #hobie brown x fem!reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x y/n

[milkiangl]

hi there !! i saw you were in need of requests so i was wondering if i could request ellie x reader with a hand kink? maybe with a splurge of choking in there as well? i’m so obsessed with ellie’s hands omfg they’re just so pretty and i just KNOW her hands would make for the best necklace ever <3

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader.

warnings: smut! choking kink, thigh riding, dirty talk, praising, dom/top!ellie, sub/bottom!reader, overstimulation, use of feminine nicknames, a few hints of degradation if you squint.

note: you’re so so right omg hello!! i could just kiss your genius genius brain right this nanosecond! the hippocampus section of my brain is filled with just images of ellie’s tattoo and her veiny hands alone!!! (´ω｀*)

“Ellie, s’too much!”

Already sensitive from completing two orgasms, Ellie continued to rock your exposed pussy against her jean-clad thigh. Electric shockwaves traveled through the coarse of your nervous system as you writhed beneath her strong grip, only causing her to tighten her grasp on your hips.

“Poor baby,” Ellie tsked in a fake sympathetic tone, one of her hands coming up to grasp your chin as she continued her assault on your puffy clit; your dizzy head involuntarily leaving the crevice of Ellie’s neck and instead meeting her pair of haunting green irises. “weren’t you just begging me to take care of your achy cunt? Now you’re whining about how you can’t take it.”

All you could do was release an incoherent mewl from the depths of your shaky throat, your eyelids becoming severely heavy from the familiar feeling of euphoric bliss on the near horizon bubbling inside you yet again.

Ellie’s hand advanced to the span of your neck, wrapping her  digits around the extent of it. “Come on, honey. Always so good f’me, aren’t you? Give me one more. Please. Just one more. Make a mess all over my thigh, know you can do it.”

The slight pressure Ellie was putting on your windpipe mixed with her words was enough to send you over the edge and stars to cloud your vision; sensitive bundle of nerves rocking against the seam of her pants perfectly.

A string of moans and incomprehensible babbling left your bitten raw lips, body shaking uncontrollably as Ellie guided you through your mind-numbing feeling of ecstasy.

“That’s it. Look at you.” She cooed, her veiny hand still wrapped around the expand of your neck as she scooped her other middle and ring fingers beneath you to collect your juices; the contact making you twitch in her clutch with a gasp.

Shoving her digits into your awaiting mouth to clean up the mess you had made, your tongue caressed and traveled the length of her mesmerizing fingers as Ellie gazed at you in utter admiration and awe. “My good fucking girl.”

© 2023 milkiangl | comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#milkiangl writes #spoken wonders ༊*·˚ #ellie williams smut #ellie williams #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fic #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams drabble #ellie williams blurb #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #the last of us smut #the last of us #the last of us blurb #the last of us drabble #the last of us imagine

[tomriddleslove]

Obliviate.

✩ Mattheo Riddle x Reader angst

Summary: The one where tensions are running higher, and everyone has to pick a side. You promised to stick by one another, but a stupid oath you made when you first met threatens to drive that apart. Alternatively: If you love her, then you have to let her go.

A/N: If you don’t listen to the recommended song when reading this i will fight you 🤺🤺

Song: Goodbye - Billie Eilish

The Daily Prophet

Unrest Brews as Dark Forces Loom

By Rita Skeeter

In a disturbing turn of events, Diagon Alley was rocked by an unprecedented attack last night, sending shockwaves throughout the wizarding community. Witnesses reported seeing a group of hooded figures, suspected to be Death Eaters, descending upon the famous magical thoroughfare with malicious intent.

The Flourish and Blotts bookstore bore the brunt of the assault, with its windows shattered and shelves overturned. Several nearby shops, including Ollivanders Wand Shop and Eeylops Owl Emporium, also sustained significant damage.

"I've never seen anything like it," said Horace Slughorn, a retired Potions Master who happened to be in the area during the attack. "It was pure pandemonium. People were running for cover, spells flying everywhere. It was like a scene out of the darkest days of the last wizarding war."

Ministry of Magic officials were quick to respond to the scene, deploying Aurors and members of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol to contain the situation. However, the attackers managed to evade capture, leaving behind a trail of destruction and instilling fear in the hearts of many.

The Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, condemned the attack in the strongest terms, vowing to apprehend those responsible and bring them to justice.

"We will not tolerate such brazen acts of violence in our society," Minister Shacklebolt declared in a statement issued this morning. "The Ministry is fully committed to ensuring the safety and security of all witches and wizards, and we will spare no effort in our pursuit of these criminals."

The attack on Diagon Alley serves as a grim reminder of the growing threat posed by Voldemort's followers, who have been emboldened in recent months by reports of their dark lord's rumoured return. With tensions running high and fear gripping the wizarding world, many are left wondering what the future holds in this time of uncertainty.

You frown as you observe Mattheo, watching as he tosses the paper down onto the table in front of you with a huff. The tension in his face has become increasingly evident over the past few weeks, and you've begun to forget what Mattheo looks like when he isn't frowning.

You wrap your arms around his arm, leaning in close to him as you speak quietly.

“Hey. It’s alright,” You reassure, pressing a light kiss to his shoulder. He doesn’t tear his gaze away from the fireplace, a small huff of both frustration and amusement escaping his lips as he clenches his jaw, nodding.

“It’s alright.” He scoffs, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

It’s alright? No, it wasn’t alright. His father was a murderous lunatic who was about to trigger the second wizarding war. He had to sit back and watch his own friend get tortured for hours for failing to complete a task. He can't close his eyes without seeing Theodore writhing in pain on the floor.

Mattheo was expected to fight with them. The time would come, that was for certain. Mattheo would have to stand there, and raise his wand against the people he's shared a dorm with and sat in class with.

Hell, he would be expected to raise his wand against you.

“They always say this, Mattheo. They’ve been saying it for years, and nothing has happened.” You say, but even you can see how pathetic it sounds. Despite your efforts to comfort him, it's clear that his mind is elsewhere, consumed by the looming threat of war and the impossible choices he may soon be forced to make.

Mattheo finally tears his gaze away from the fireplace, his eyes meeting yours. Your breath hitches, the sheer look of sorrow in his eyes enough to shatter your heart into a million little pieces.

"I don't want to drag you into this," he confesses, his voice raw with emotion. "You deserve better than to be caught up in my mess."

Your heart sinks as you realize where this conversation is headed. "Mattheo, please," you plead, the fear in your voice palpable, "don't do this. Don't shut me out."

But he shakes his head, his expression pained. "I have to," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "Remember our promise?"

Mattheo looks up when he sees you sit next to him, a wide grin on your face as you unpack your bag.

He had seen you here and there in the common room. You always seemed to have an impossibly bright smile, far too lovely for the gloominess of Slytherin.

“Riddle.” You hum with a small grin, and he can't help but let a small smile tug at his lips as he looks over at you.

“What's wrong? You’re looking at me as though I’ve grown another head” You tease as you sit down next to him .

Mattheo blinks in surprise as you address him, the warmth of your smile catching him off guard. He's used to being treated with caution and apprehension, especially given his family's reputation and his own reserved demeanor. But your easy manner and genuine curiosity leave him feeling strangely disarmed.

"Nothing's wrong, just lost in thought, I suppose," he replies, a hint of amusement in his voice as he watches you unpack your bag. Despite himself, he can't help but feel a sense of curiosity about you, wondering what it is that draws you to him when so many others keep their distance.

-•-

“Please-” Mattheo pleads in frustration, slamming the door shut behind him as he storms through the empty common room. You follow after him briskly, slamming the door that separates the common room from the dorms closed with a flick of your wand as you corner him.

“What do you mean, please?” You snap, frowning at him.

“Stop-” He says, his movements exasperated as he motions between the two of you “- this! Stop trying to be friends with me! It’s for your own good.” He says, looking up at you.

You let out a dry laugh, a mix of amusement and frustration as you shove him lightly.

“Oh fuck off. So you can kiss me and spend every evening with me but when it suits you we are just friends. You don't get to decide what’s good for me, Mattheo. I choose what I do and who I associate with, and if that hurts me then so fucking be it.” You retort harshly. Mattheo goes to interject but you cut him off.

“No! You don't get to choose when you want to be with me. I want you, Mattheo. All of you. I couldn’t give two flying shits about who your father is, or who you associate with. I'm capable of making my own decisions.”

He remains silent, his expression torn between turmoil and guilt, as your words hang heavy in the air between you. You feel slightly guilty for your outburst and your expression softens, reaching out to hold his hand gently as you speak.

"You know, if you really think it's that dangerous for me to be around you, you could always just obliviate me. Make me forget about you completely."You quip, trying to lighten the mood

For a moment, Mattheo's shock gives way to a burst of laughter, the tension in the room dissipating as he shakes his head in disbelief. "You're impossible," he says, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."

-•-

You pull back from Mattheo, shaking your head. “No. No, that was a joke.” You stammer, but he turns to you.

“It wasn’t. We spoke about it afterwards. You promised me.” Mattheo says, sternly.

You know he’s right. You only agreed because the idea seemed so laughable. But now it was a reality, and you could see the hurt and disappointment in Mattheo's eyes.

Tears well up in your eyes as you struggle to find the right words, the weight of everything crashing down on you like a ton of bricks. "I love you, Mattheo," you say, more of a plea than anything else. He draws you into him, a strong arm wrapping around you tightly, as though he is scared to let you go. His hand cups the back of your head, pulling your head down to rest on his shoulder as he kisses the top of your head.

“I know. I love you too. That's why we have to.” He murmurs, trying his hardest to not let his voice break.

-•-

It’s not fair.

It wasn’t fucking fair.

Mattheo had just found it. Found his reason for living. Found his reason to keep going when all the odds were stacked against him. You were the air he breathed, the light that lit his life up and the tender hand that soothed him. You were his everything, and you had to be snatched away from him.

He gently raps on the door to your dorm, just to let you know he was about to enter before cracking the door open. You hastily scramble, shoving the book you were writing with under your pillow as you spot Mattheo.

He notices but he doesn't say a thing, no, he can't. Because in a few minutes, it would be as though he never existed to you. He couldn't tell what would have hurt more, you not being able to see him, or you not even knowing who he was. You’d hold his heart in your hands, unknowingly, and he would be nothing but a stranger.

“Not in here, Please, not in here.” You breathe out, your words hitching in your throat as you fight back tears. He nods wordlessly, taking a step back.

“No one’s in the common room. I’ll uh- go there.” He murmurs, his voice hollow and empty as he turns to leave, unable to bear the thought of facing you for what may be the last time.

As he makes his way down to the common room, every step heavier than the last, he can't shake the feeling of emptiness that gnaws at his insides. It's like a void, swallowing him whole and leaving nothing behind but a hollow shell of the person he used to be.

He finds a seat in the furthermost corner, where you both usually sat, facing the fireplace. He watches the embers crackle and dance, not even noticing your presence till you slide up into the seat next to him. He wants to avert his gaze when he sees the tears in your eyes, but instead, he reaches up.

His hands were shaking. Why were they shaking?

He wipes a stray tear from your cheek.

“My wand. Let me go uh-” He blurts , quickly getting up as he looks away. He blinks back tears as he hurries up the stairs. Instead of going up to his dorm, however, he sneaks into yours.

He walks over to your bed, pulling back your pillow. Sure enough, the small book you were so desperate to conceal from Mattheo was there. He looks around and then with a small huff, tucks it into his back pocket. He hurries back downstairs.

Returning to the common room, he sits back down next to you, his hand reaching out to gently intertwine with yours as you sit together in silence. For a while, you don't say anything. You fear that speaking will break this small bubble, where time has frozen and you can just enjoy your last moments together.

As Mattheo gently cups your face, his touch trembling with the weight of what's to come, he feels the soft dampness of your tears against his fingertips. Your eyes, filled with sorrow and pleading, search his for some semblance of reassurance, some sign that this isn't the end.

"I can't do this," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, his heart breaking with every word. "I can't lose you. You mean everything to me. I’m so scared"

Your sobs fill the air around you, the sound like a knife to Mattheo's heart as he struggles to hold back his own tears. He leans in, pressing his lips against yours in a tender, bittersweet kiss, savouring the taste of your lips one last time before it's all gone.

“I love you.” Is all you can muster. It’s pathetic, but it hurts to even think about anything.

You cling to him desperately, your fingers tangling in his hair as though trying to anchor yourself to the present. Mattheo feels a lump form in his throat, the weight of his decision pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket, but he knows that he has to do this. For your own safety, for your own sake, he has to let you go.

His forehead presses against yours, taking in every last moment of intimacy he’s granted. You don't open your eyes, and he's grateful, for he doesn't think he could bear to look you in the eye.

“Obliviate.”

The second after he murmurs the words he stumbles away from you, reeling backwards as though your touch has burnt him. You wouldn't remember a thing about him, not even his name. He couldn’t be close to you anymore.

Mattheo watches as you blink, confusion clouding your features as you try to make sense of your surroundings. You look around the room, your eyes scanning the familiar surroundings with a sense of bewilderment, and for a moment, Mattheo's heart clenches with the hope that maybe, just maybe, you'll remember him. But deep down, he knows that it's futile, that the spell has already taken effect, erasing every trace of him from your mind.

You shake your head slightly, as if trying to clear the fog from your thoughts, before turning and heading up to your bed. Mattheo watches you go, his heart breaking with every step you take away from him, knowing that he can never follow.

But then, just as you reach the top of the stairs, you pause, your gaze flickering back to where Mattheo stands in the corner of the room. And in that moment, you give him a small, absentminded smile, the kind of smile you might give to a passing stranger.

Mattheo's heart lurches in his chest at the sight of your smile. He wants to call out to you, to tell you who he is, to beg you to remember him, but he knows that it's pointless. You're gone, lost to him forever, and there's nothing he can do to change that.

As you disappear, he collapses down onto the sofa, He wants to sob, and for a second he thinks he is, a horrible restictive choking feeling in his throat as he looks down at the floor. He reaches into his pocket, fingers fumbling with the small black book, perhaps the last piece of you he’d truly have.

He finds the most recent entry and wipes away the tears that blur his vision as he begins to read.

Don't be alarmed when you see this. I want you to read every word of this carefully. This is you, that is writing. It is the 26th of June, 1996. You might have felt like you’ve woken up in the common room, feeling a bit disoriented.

You were obliviated. And it was your idea.

When you were that annoying, pestering little kid, you had taken it upon yourself to befriend a boy called Mattheo Riddle. You’ll see him over the next few days, perhaps. He might look at you as though it hurts him to. It most definitely does. He’s devastatingly handsome, with the softest brown curls and the most expressive eyes. I do believe you won't need me to describe him. Really, my love for him is so strong I doubt any sort of obliviate can erase the idea that Mattheo Riddle lives within the recesses of your heart. Everyone had warned you of how dangerous he was, how his father was rumoured to be the Dark Lord and that he was bound to be no good. But you, in your true Slytherin ambition, set out on a mission to befriend him.

And you fell in love. It was impossible not to, really.

He is everything to me. He was everything to you. He is the most brilliant boy I’ve known. Far too many people gave up on him early. He’s beyond just being incredibly intelligent. He feels. And that’s rarer than you might believe. For someone who was subjected to such horrible things growing up, he is tender. Do not let his bruised knuckles and split lips fool you.

Now, more than ever, he will struggle. He believes you are fully not aware of him. But with this, I hope you are.

Be there for him. Do not tell him about this. You were awfully good at forcing your way into people's lives. Do that for him now. Make him think it was a coincidence. Be there for him, and don’t let his stubbornness fool you. Merlin knows he will be stubborn. He is simply scared, and you mustn’t let that deter you.

People will often compare their lovers to the sun. Bright, warm, near perfect. Mattheo is the moon, casting a gentle glow in the darkness, guiding you through the night. He may not shine as brightly as the sun, but his presence is no less mesmerizing, no less essential.

You had always preferred the moon more, anyway.

Take care of him.

You stupid girl. You stupid, selfish girl.

Mattheo's hands tremble as he reads the letter, his heart constricting with every word, every line. It's like a knife to his heart, the pain of knowing that even in a situation like this, you still found a way to look after him, to care for him, to love him.

Tears blur his vision as he reads on, each word cutting deeper than the last. The book, filled with pages of recollections of the time they spent together, feels like a cruel reminder of everything he's lost, everything he can never get back.You had nearly filled the whole book, addressed to yourself with worries and letters in the hopes of getting your obliviated mind to fall back in love with Mattheo. To remember him, and to negate the whole idea of obliviating yourself by leaving this book for your future self.

And you did all of this just because you wanted to look after him.

It hurts to breathe, to even entertain the idea of going to bed tonight knowing that the love of his life sees him as nothing but a stranger. And in his hands, he holds the thing that could do the impossible, that could somehow reverse it all.

The very selfish part of him wants you to see the book. He wants to slip upstairs, and hide it back under your pillow, and let you find the words you addressed to yourself.

But he couldn’t. He could die far more happily knowing he’s not leaving you behind, no. Really, you were never his, the two of you forcing destiny in the opposite direction, living on borrowed time. Now he has to face the consequences of it all, and if he can stop you bearing the brunt of it, then he’s made no mistake.

He places the book down on the table, and doesn’t think twice about his actions.

“Incendio.”

#slytherin #slytherin boys #tom riddle #harry potter #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #slytherin boys fic #theodore nott #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #mattheo riddle angst #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle x you

[soapskneebrace]

i have this fascination with price. hes sort of this unsulliable steel, consistently to nearly always making the (as the games frame it) correct decisions, even when hes playing fast and loose with the law. his plans always work, hes never truly failed in the sense of real negative consequences for a choice (until 3 but 3 was badly written and i did not like it). hes always (in the game's framing) right. he never shows a moment of weakness. i love him ❤ i want to see him suffer i want him to make an objectively wrong choice. i want that choice to have consequences that shake his steady foundations and rock him to his core. i want him to fail. is that weird? i want him to lose control of his carefully maintained stony exterior. i want to see that side of him that is barely acknowledged to be genuinely explored. i know people justify it by saying hes a military captain in a ridiculously tough branch to get into, so of course hes like that, but in real life those guys are just as human as the rest of us, just as capable of mistakes and taking fat Ls and making poor decisions. I do love his character, he is my blorbo, i just want to put him in a jar and shake him real hard. is that weird?

Deadass, when I heard what happens in mw3 (still haven't gotten around to watching it, I'm fond of my brain cells and I feel like it'll kill some of them)--my first thought was that they should've killed Price.

Price is always barely restraining himself but he manages to keep himself in check for the most part. I imagine he's learned the hard way that if he lets his feelings dictate his actions then a lot of people get hurt.

Gaz and Soap, however, do not have the benefit of his experience. Ghost does, but he doesn't wield authority like Price's, and I have the feeling that he believes the Price keeps him in check (in his origin comics, he has frequent nightmares in which he assaults and murders people, because he went through months of classical conditioning in captivity).

So, let's say Mak shoots Price dead instead. Suddenly there's no one there to guide the surviving 141. Suddenly the wealth of experience he had to offer, the instincts for warfare that he honed over decades, is gone. Gaz loses his mentor. Ghost loses the man who holds his leash. Soap loses the one commanding officer he had any faith in.

Can you feel how that would raise the stakes exponentially? Price's influence, throughout the reboot, has kept everyone in line. He knows how to break the rules effectively while minimizing the consequences. He knows how to ignore distractions. He is ruthlessly efficient, without being brutal. The other three just do not have those skills. They are not capable of doing what Price does. They have neither the experience (in Gaz and Soap's case) nor the disposition (in Ghost's case).

Price dying would send shockwaves through the 141--through the entire cast--in ways that Soap's death just does not. Soap should have been the one in Shepherd's office with a silenced gun, because assassinating a FUCKING FOUR STAR AMERICAN GENERAL IN THE PENTAGON!!!!! Is not what an experienced captain in the SAS would do, no matter how he feels!!!!!! That is what a sergeant with more aptitude than sense and an overwhelming feeling of rage and loss would do!!!!!!

Aaaaand this is a rant nearly completely unrelated to what you were talking about lol. Sorry. I do want to see that old man suffer don't get me wrong. It's just that the suffering he's been set up for now, in canon, is SO MUCH BULLSHIT.

#answered

[darkshelbyfiction]

An Unusual Proposal

FOR: THOMAS SHELBY X FEM! READER

WARNING: DUBCON SMUT, NAME CALLING, ROUGH HANDELING

The sun was beginning to set when Thomas Shelby summoned you to his office. As you entered the room, you couldn't help but notice the sheer power radiating from every inch of the place. Your heart raced, as your gaze swept across the austere space bathed in harsh light. High ceilings adorned by intricately woven tapestries reflected the family's past glories, casting an air of authority around the room.

As you approached the large wooden desk, it felt like walking into a lion's den. The sharp gleam of Thomas Shelby's piercing blue eyes bore into your soul, chilling you to the core.

"Come here," he growled, beckoning you closer. You obeyed, feeling a mixture of fear and excitement coursing through your veins. Stepping nearer, you couldn't help but note the sheer size of Thomas, towering above you like a colossus.

The raw intensity of his presence seemed to envelop you, leaving no part of your body untouched. His strong hands grasped your hips, pulling you even closer, until you were just inches away from the massive wooden desk.

With a sinister grin, Thomas whispered into your ear, "Do you remember what I told you earlier?" His words sent shivers down your spine, as they reminded you of his promise – one that left you both thrilled and terrified.

Unable to control yourself, you began to tremble under his fierce gaze. With an authoritative tone, he commanded, "Bend over the desk."

You hesitated for a moment, your body refusing to comply with his orders at first. But then, something snapped inside you. You could feel the anger boiling beneath the surface, transforming into an explosive mixture of resentment and desire. As you lowered yourself onto the cold wood, you fought back tears, knowing full well that your submission would only fuel his appetite further.

He gripped your hips more firmly, guiding your body to the exact position he desired. Your legs were splayed wide apart, baring your most intimate parts to his hungry gaze. Thomas stood tall behind you, a predatory smile playing upon his lips.

"Fucking hell, Love. You will never learn, eh?" he growled. "Now spread those legs for me. You will take my cock, whether you like it or not," he said, his voice dark and commanding. Reluctantly, you obeyed, feeling your cheeks flush with shame. Your thighs trembled as you parted them, exposing your wetness to his view.

Thomas stepped closer and unbuckled his belt, followed by his zipper.

His hardened manhood jutted out, standing proudly before you.

As if toying with you, he teased your entrance with the tip of his penis, gently circling your rim before swiftly thrusting inside.

You cried in pain as he bottomed out against your cervix, making sure to push deep into your tender flesh. Each time he pulled out, it seemed like you were torn apart all over again. His relentless assault continued until you were drenched in sweat, your body begging for mercy.

Despite your pleas, Thomas' only response was to increase the tempo, hammering your tight walls with relentless determination. Every thrust echoed throughout the room, driving you towards the brink of ecstasy and agony simultaneously.

"Flirting with another man is fucking unacceptable, eh," Thomas muttered, gritting his teeth as he plunged deeper into your depths.

A mixture of pain and pleasure danced across your face, betraying your feelings to him. In spite of the intense discomfort, you found yourself craving his touch, the need for release taking hold of you.

Your breath caught in your throat as you reached your peak, the wave of sensation crashing over you. As you climaxed, Thomas' own release exploded inside you, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body.

"That's it you fucking whore, take my cum," he growled, a mix of triumph and possessiveness in his voice.

You could feel the warmth of his seed pooling inside you, claiming your body as his.

The weight of his body pressed down on yours, crushing you beneath his might. You could taste the saltiness of his skin as he held you close, the scent of his musky arousal filling your nostrils.

For a moment, there was silence, punctuated only by the sound of your laboured breathing. Then, as you regained some semblance of composure, Thomas spoke once more.

"You know what? You are quite the piece of work, aren't you?" He let out a sigh, his breath caressing your neck as he moved away from you.

"Don't you ever think about how we could make this work?" he asked, his voice laced with bitterness. "We have been friends for so long. We've been fucking for years and still, you go off and look at other men," he spat, his breath hot against your skin.

His words cut deep, bringing up memories of a time when you two had shared laughter and confidences.

"Then fucking marry me already, Thomas!" you blurted out, frustration getting the better of you. "Or at least stop treating me like this!"

Thomas paused, considering your suggestion. His eyes were hard, yet a spark of curiosity flickered within them.

"Alright Love, let's get married, eh?" Thomas responded coolly, his eyes gleaming with interest. "But let's do this properly, shall we? No more fucking around, only respectful love-making."

You swallowed hard, your heart racing at the thought of what such a marriage might entail. "What does proper mean to you, Thomas?"

"Proper means, no more fucking around in this dingy office after you have gotten on to my nerves simply to prove a fucking point." Thomas exclaimed, his eyes blazing with passionate fury. "From now on, you will give me complete loyalty and commitment, do you hear me?"

You nodded, your cheeks burning red with embarrassment. Deep down, you knew that this arrangement wouldn't last. However, the prospect of living together, married to a man like Thomas Shelby, was something you couldn't resist.

#thomas shelby #cillian murphy #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby smut #tommy shelby smut #cilliean murphy smut #tommy selby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders imagine

[inquisitorma]

One shot.

Halsin x reader.

Rated +18

Sweet encounter with Halsin ends in having sex.

***

In the tranquil woods surrounding the Druid Grove, as you navigated the dense foliage, you stumbled upon a peculiar scene.

To your surprise, you found Halsin there, performing his morning prayers to Silvanus, the god of nature. The elven druid was completely nude, and the sight of his muscular body was both impressive and arousing. As he knelt before the statue of Silvanus, he seemed lost in thought.

Not wanting to disturb him, you quietly turned to leave, but the sound of your footsteps alerted him to your presence. Turning, he smiled warmly and beckoned for you to join him. Hesitantly, you complied, sitting beside him on the grass.

He spoke softly, telling you of the peace and serenity he experienced when communing with nature. Then, without warning, he reached out and caressed your cheek, causing your face to flush with heat.

You couldn't help but notice his growing arousal, and his hand gently brushed against yours. You tried to ignore the sensation, but his touch was intoxicating, and your body responded in kind.

Unable to resist, you leaned forward and kissed him, his lips soft and welcoming.

His hands explored your body, finding their way beneath your clothes, teasing and tantalizing you. His mouth followed suit, his tongue tracing the contours of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin.

Before long, he was on top of you, his hands exploring every inch of your flesh, his tongue tracing the length of your neck, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh.

The pleasure was intense, and you writhed beneath him, moaning softly. You could feel the pressure building within you, and your body shuddered as waves of pleasure washed over you.

He continued to kiss and tease you, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You could feel yourself losing control, and you clung to him, your fingers digging into his back.

His lips traveled downward, finding the sensitive spot just below your ear. He nipped and sucked at the tender flesh, and you arched your back, a moan escaping your lips.

His mouth moved lower, his tongue tracing the outline of your collarbone. He continued his exploration, his hands following his mouth, and you found yourself struggling to contain your desire.

Your breaths came in short gasps, and your skin was flushed with heat. You could feel the pressure building inside you, and you knew it would not be long before you succumbed to his sensual assault.

Just when you thought you could take no more, he stopped.

Looking up, you saw his face was a mask of pure desire, his eyes burning with lust. He stood, and you could see his arousal clearly.

Your mind reeled, and you felt yourself losing control. The feeling of his body pressed against yours was almost too much to bear.

Slowly, he began to remove your clothing, his hands expertly exploring every inch of your body. You shivered, not from the cold, but from the anticipation.

Once your clothes were discarded, he pushed you back onto the ground, his lips never leaving your skin. He trailed kisses down your body, his hands caressing your curves.

His touch was gentle yet firm, and you could feel his erection pressing against your thigh. The pressure was almost unbearable, and you found yourself moaning softly.

His tongue danced along your inner thighs, and you could feel the wetness pooling between your legs. He moved upwards, his mouth finding the most sensitive parts of your body.

His fingers explored you, his touch sending shockwaves through your body. You moaned, your back arching off the ground, the pleasure almost unbearable.

The feeling of his breath against your skin was intoxicating, and you could feel your release building. He sensed it, too, and his movements became more urgent, his tongue working its magic on your most intimate areas.

Finally, you could take no more. The pressure inside you exploded, and you cried out, waves of pleasure washing over you. Your body shook, and your vision blurred, the intensity of the orgasm almost overwhelming.

Laying back, you struggled to catch your breath. Your heart pounded in your chest, and your body trembled. Looking up, you saw him standing over you, a satisfied smile on his face.

"Well, that was certainly worth the wait," he said, his voice husky.

"I can only imagine," you replied, the realization of what had just transpired hitting you like a ton of bricks.

"So," he asked, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, "ready for round two?"

With that, he was on top of you, his weight pressing you into the earth. He kissed you hungrily, his tongue exploring your mouth, his hands roaming over your naked body.

You could taste yourself on his lips, and it sent a jolt of excitement through you. You kissed him back, passionately, your hands tangling in his hair.

You could feel his erection pressed against your thigh, and you couldn't help but grind against him, your body aching for him. He moaned, his hips bucking against yours, his breath hot against your neck.

"Gods, you're beautiful," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear.

He entered you, slowly at first, then thrusting hard and deep, his cock filling you completely.

The pleasure was exquisite, and you arched your back, meeting his thrusts, his hips grinding against yours.

Your bodies moved together, perfectly in sync, the rhythmic pounding of his cock inside you sending shivers of ecstasy through you.

He gripped your hips tightly, pulling you against him, his thrusts becoming faster and more urgent.

You could feel his release building, and you cried out, the intensity of the sensation almost too much to bear.

Suddenly, he stopped. Looking up, you saw his eyes were wild, his face a mask of pure lust.

"Turn around," he commanded.

Obeying his command, you got on all fours, presenting yourself to him.

He was behind you in an instant, his cock teasing the entrance to your wetness.

He teased you, the tip of his shaft rubbing against your swollen clit, the sensation driving you mad with desire.

You moaned, pushing back against him, your body desperate for him.

"Please," you begged, "I need you inside me."

He obliged, sliding his cock deep inside you, stretching you open.

You gasped, the feeling of fullness taking your breath away.

He thrust into you, hard and fast, his hands gripping your hips.

The pleasure was intense, and you met his thrusts, your body writhing beneath his.

He grunted, his cock throbbing inside you, the sensation sending waves of ecstasy through your body.

He pounded into you, his hips slapping against yours, the sound filling the air.

You could feel the pressure building, and you cried out, the release overwhelming.

Your body shuddered, and you felt him tense, his own orgasm approaching.

With a final, savage thrust, he emptied himself inside you, his cock pulsing.

You collapsed, spent, your limbs shaking.

As you lay there, panting, you could feel his seed trickling down your thighs, the feeling oddly satisfying.

Rolling over, you looked up at him, his expression one of pure satisfaction.

"Well, that was..." He trailed off, unable to find the words.

"Amazing," you finished, a grin spreading across your face.

He smiled, leaning down to plant a tender kiss on your forehead.

"Indeed, my darling," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

As his lips brushed against yours, you could feel his arousal, his erection pressing against your hip.

"And I hope you know that the night is still young," he whispered, his eyes smoldering with desire.

Giggling, you pulled him closer, his body molding against yours.

End.

#baldur's gate 3 #halsin #fanfic #halsin x reader #halsin x tav

[q1ngqve]

ᝰ TASTES SO GOOD !

✶ 𓏲ּ ꩜ 𓂅 childe uses a sex toy on you! ⋆ then proceeds to eat you out

CW; fem! reader, sex toy, calls you ‘princess’, oral (receiving), mentions that he’s bigger than you

your head falls back on your pillow, eyes glazed and head clouded with lust as childe presses the toy harder onto your clit. the fake tongue from the rubber toy mimicking an actual tongue licking your hardened clit.

he has your hands bound together above your head, his bigger frame towering over yours, caging you beneath him with a smug look on his face. “feels good, huh, princess?” your head shakes at his comment, hips bucking upwards into the toy, the knot in your stomach tightening at the pleasure.

soft beeping sounds above you, and you let out a moan when the toy speeds up, the rubber around the ‘tongue’ wrapping around your clit like a mouth and begins sucking. childe laughs, eyes dark and hooded as he watches you writhe in pleasure under him. oh, how he loved seeing you like this, fucked out and squirming beneath him.

his free hand clamps around your waist, pushing your hips down and holding it in place, stopping you from bucking upwards. the toy leaves your clit the moment you cry out that you’re coming, the loss of your high has you whimpering in annoyance at your boyfriend.

“tell me, do you want to cum on my tongue or on the toy?”

your head moves from side to side, his words barely registering in your head, still high from the pleasure. “hmm? answer me princess, or you won’t get to come at all.”

you whine his name, hands struggling above you, “please–”

“ah ah, pick one.”

“you! fuck! wanna cum on your tongue, please–”

“as you wish.” childe smiles down at you, planting a kiss on your trembling lips before shifting his body down and spreading your legs open, propping them up his shoulders and back.

your knees go soft the moment you feel his tongue press against your pulsing clit, and you instinctively move your hips away from his assault. he groans against your heat, hands reaching up to grab at your waist, pulling you down onto his tongue, flicking your clit roughly, “you asked for this, don’t run away from me now.”

your back arches when you feel the rubber toy from before entering your core, stretching you out slightly before it starts to buzz. “no!” you’re squirming and struggling in his hold again, the overwhelming sensation sending you closer and closer to your high.

incoherent words tumble from your lips as you cum, your thighs squeeze around childe’s head as your hips grind against his face. his groans sending shockwaves into your core, his tongue not leaving you as he helps you ride out your high.

your body calms down a few seconds later, only to find him still sucking on your clit and staring up at you with lust-filled eyes. “childe– can’t anymore…” you beg, your legs move around on his back, trying to push him away.

he ignores your begging, hands reaching up to your thighs and squeezes it, “you taste so fucking good, princess. just one more, okay? for me, please. promise I’ll make you feel good.”

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #childe #childe smut #childe x reader #genshin childe smut #childe tartaglia ajax #ajax #tartaglia #🀥 lan’s writings!

[usedtobecooler]

she's got the look.

Pairing | Eddie Munson x fem!plus size!reader

Warnings | sexual content (18+ minors dni), fingering, oral f receiving, piv sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), squirting, slight choking kink, kind of fluffy-ish?, words of affirmation, reader isn't very nice about her body and eddie needs to tell her she's perfect!!

Word count | 2.1k

A/N | i'm projecting a bit with this work however i truly believe in my heart eddie loves people of all shapes and sizes and i think he'd treat a plus size girl so well. this is essentially 2k words of absolute smut right from the get go.

eddie who's absolutely obsessed with plus size!reader and her body ))):

You're in the back of his van, laid out on some makeshift mattress made out of blankets and pillows, two of his fingers deep in your wet pussy whilst his tongue assaults your clit. You risk a glance down and all you can see is a frizz of brown curls bobbing over the small mound of your tummy blocking your view. It's rare you ever open your eyes during, really, too worried about catching a glimpse of any of your body and turning yourself off.

Eddie's moaning loud against your cunt, you can feel the tell tale sign of him rutting himself against a small bundle of the blanket below him, which in turn makes you moan out too, "Fuck, Eds," you whine, finally grasping a hand in his curls and tugging hard, thick thighs shaking around his head, squeezing ever so slightly.

He just moans again, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your clit as he assaults you further, his fingers finding that spongey spot inside of you and rubbing it relentlessly. You can feel the mixture of your own slick and his saliva dripping down your ass, making a pool at the base of your spine. You were always so wet for him, and he never forgot to tell you how much he loved it.

"Always so wet for me sweetheart, fuck," he'd moan as he pounded into you, hands wandering up the ratty old Zeppelin shirt you'd always be adamant to keep on during, so he could run his hands over your tummy, up over your tits. You would keep your eyes shut, worried he'd rut your shirt up too high and expose you.

Your eyes clench shut tighter as the tell tale sign of your orgasm starts to build like a punch to the gut, "Eddie, m'gonna cum," you whine, hips starting to fuck up against his face, his tongue continuing to lick and suck at your sensitive bud in tandem with his fingers rubbing at your spot inside.

The pressure builds so quickly, the first few times Eddie had done this you'd tried to stave it off from happening, feeling all funny inside. But now you knew better, knew how much he loved to feel and taste you fall apart in this way. You chance another peek down and can see the absolute state Eddie is in now, rutting down against the van floor, his free hand grabbing the meat of your thigh so tightly it's going to bruise, and you lose it.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you chant, thighs squeezing Eddie's head impossibly tight to keep him there as you cum, feeling the telltale sign of gushing come from inside of you, soaking Eddie's face and hand, creating a further puddle at your ass. You can feel it drip all down your thighs, Eddie greedily lapping up what he can, chancing a dip at your ass to taste more.

He's up from his place at your cunt quickly, fingers slipping deftly out of you and you can't help the small squeak that leaves your lips at the feeling of emptiness. He's looking at you with this dumb smirk on his face, your wetness glistening in the dark on his mouth, chin and even some of his neck.

"Always so wet for me doll," he moans, dipping down to kiss and nip at your neck, settling himself in between your still quivering legs. You can feel the thick outline of his cock straining against the material of his jeans where he nestles and ruts against the inside of your thigh.

His hands can't stop roaming your upper body, going instinctively up your loose shirt and touching every inch of your soft tummy, the cool metal of his rings making you shiver, "God, I love your body, you have no idea how hot you are."

You cringe a little below him, wanting to hide your body from his hands and eyes. He always had a way of making you feel like you were the hottest chick around, that you had the best body and face he'd ever seen, but still his words of affirmation didn't do much to change the way you felt about yourself.

You instinctively try to shove his hands away, but he holds firm, gripping onto your love handles and rutting against you again, a sigh escaping his lips against your wet neck, "Don't hide yourself from me, sweetheart. I love it all."

A gasp escapes your lips at his words, your hands going to encircle his wrists tightly to follow them as they grasp at every bit of your soft tummy, your tits, back down again to your hips.

"If only you saw yourself the way I do, baby," Eddie sighs, moving to kiss along your soft jaw, all the way up to your plump lips, "hey, look at me."

His voice is demanding, a firmness in it that only usually comes out when he's telling you off, "Do you think my cock would get this hard if I didn't love it? If I didn't love every single inch of your gorgeous body?"

You whine quietly, looking into his big, dark, chocolate brown eyes. They're hard as he stares you down, but the softness is still somewhere lingering behind it. His right hand grasps yours, and he places your fingers and palm over his cock, curling your fingers around it for you.

"Feel how hard I am, sweetheart," Eddie's voice is gruff, full of want and need, "all of this from licking you out. Your gorgeous, puffy little pussy. God, I'd cum in my pants given half the chance if I didn't want to fuck you so badly."

You moan on instinct, grappling at his jeans and tugging at them, "Then what are you waiting for?" you ask quietly, looking up at him and batting your lashes, "Fuck me."

Eddie sits back on his haunches quickly, expert hands pulling open his belt and popping the button on his jeans. He doesn't even have the patience to pull his jeans and boxers down properly, settling for shuffling them down his thighs just enough so that his hard cock can spring out, all purple and angry looking at the head, clearly needy with want for you.

He spreads your legs with hard fingers gripped onto the insides of your thighs, forcing them apart so he can look at the mess you both made of your puffy cunt, still slick with your release and his spit.

Eddie looms over you, his hard cock in his hand, giving it a quick tug and you watch as his stomach muscles tighten and quiver from just that small touch. He lines up with your cunt, letting the head of his cock run up and down your folds, the way it runs over your abused clit making you gasp out.

He slides into you with ease, your greedy cunt swallowing him inch by inch, stretching and clenching around his fat cock. He was hard to take to begin with, but once he figured out how your body worked and how to relax it your sweet pussy could expertly take him in, suck him up in a way nobody else ever did.

Eddie bottoms out with a shudder, nestled up right against your cunt, his heavy balls running along your ass. You gasp and cry out on his first thrust, cunt instinctively tightening around him and he lets out a strangled moan.

Your hands come out to grasp at the front of Eddie's Hellfire shirt, tangling in the material as he fucks into you harder and harder. You can feel the van shaking slightly, an obvious sign to anybody who were to walk by you in the parking lot.

Eddie grabs a hold of your thighs, bringing them up to wrap around his waist as he doubles down and sinks into your cunt in this filthy way. The sounds are obscene, your soaked pussy sucking him in so well, his thighs slapping against you with the brutal pace he's taken on.

His hands come up to run under your shirt again, properly looking at your tummy when he bunches the shirt up, letting your tits come into view too, "Look at you, babe. You're fucking perfect," he gasps in between moans and grunts, taking you in with hungry eyes roaming your whole body.

Your eyes instinctively shut again, not wanting to catch a glimpse of yourself. A rough hand grabs hold of your chin and tugs, forcing you to open your eyes and look up. Eddie's stern look mixed in with lust is enough for you to know he wants you to keep watching.

"Look at me whilst I fuck you," He commands, hand coming down to wrap around your throat lightly, "this okay?"

You nod quickly and his fingers come to squeeze at the sides of your throat. You let out a loud moan, mouth opening in a pant as Eddie drives into you faster, impossibly harder, assaulting your soft spot inside, driving up into your cervix.

Your hand comes out to wrap around his wrist, feeling the tendons flex as he squeezes your neck tighter. Something pools in your gut, like another impending orgasm but different this time, a pressure you hadn't felt before.

"Eddie, m'gonna cum again," you rasp, body bouncing as Eddie drives down and fucks you at the same pace, knowing by now to keep doing what he's doing instead of changing it up when you say those words.

"Yeah? You gonna cum around my thick cock?" Eddie taunts, though there's not much heat behind it with how close he is to the edge now, too. You can tell how close he is by how his fingers keep flexing sporadically on your neck.

"Fuck, fuck, Eddie, fuck," You cry, hands trying to push him away because it's too much, too much, too much.

It comes over you in a wave you've never felt before, leaving you lightheaded as your pussy clenches and shakes, your ass lifting up off the floor of the van. Your cunt impulsively shoves Eddie's cock out of you, a stream of wet slicking from your pussy and it just keeps coming.

Eddie looks at your cunt with glazed over eyes, mesmerized by what just happened, as you continue to twitch below him body finally going lax after the unexpectedness of your release.

"God, baby," Eddie groans, fingers coming out to run along your folds and feel your release, "can't believe you just did that for me. Squirted on my cock."

You groan in shame, hiding your face behind your arm, "I didn't know I could do that, Eds," you admit, cringing as your face heats up, turning beet red.

"Don't hide yourself from me angel," Eddie's voice is gruff as he takes your arm and rips it away from your face, "that was the hottest thing I've ever seen."

You look up at him, his eyes blown out in lust and he's really looking at you like you're something to eat now. His cock slides back into you with ease, and you know he isn't going to last long with the way the moans leave his lips so loudly.

You're sensitive beyond belief, puffy cunt still sucking Eddie in greedily but there's a slight pleasure-pain mixed with it.

"Fucking love you and your body," Eddie groans, "that perfect. fucking. pussy." every word is punctuated with another deep thrust, and then he stills suddenly, hunching in on himself and grunting as he fills you with his cum. You feel it enter you in hot, thick ropes. It feels like it goes on forever before he finally slumps on top of you, cushioning his head on your tits.

Your hand instinctively comes out to run through his curly hair, soothing him in the silence of the van. You feel his cock soften inside of you, but he makes no move to get up. Eddie's hands still roam your body, holding onto your squishy tummy.

"I love every inch of you, sweetheart." He hums, "Never forget that. You're the hottest girl in the world, to me."

Your heart swells at his words. Maybe one day you'd believe it yourself, but for now his words and affirmations would do.

It's gross, but you lie there for a while after. How long you're not sure, but when you do eventually get up Eddie grimaces, "I think I'll have to throw those blankets out and buy new ones."

A bubbling laugh bursts out of your chest, then he leans over to kiss you softly. In that moment you have no doubt in your mind you're his girl and he loves you.

#im projecting a lil here but #imagine eddie like this )))): #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things #my fanfic #mine #smut #x reader #fem reader #stranger things imagine #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn x you

[callsignhood]

König on a rampage

Tags: Angst / Headcanons /‼️Description of violence and cruelty‼️ / Not proofread /Dark König??

Word count: 500ish

König was always on missions during his twenties. Sometimes it lasted for days, sometimes for weeks.

Being deployed and following commands was almost a therapy for him. It provided him the focus on something that could be controlled, rather than his untouchable anxiety.

Handling weapons and aiming targets was easier than handling relationships, which he was slow at.

He wasn’t too close to his team, but they weren’t strangers either, of course. He just had trouble to open himself up to anyone.

He was young, with a body built like an oak tree and nerves of steel. He always tried to maintain calculated during gunfights. Although he was young, he never acted recklessly. He was even willing to retreat if the consequences of pushing forward were high.

König rarely got shot since was agile and vigilant on the battlefield. If he was, he knew how to treat wounds because it was given as mandatory training.

His pain tolerance was very high. Or maybe he’s just good at keeping everything by himself. He’d clench his teeth and wrap the flesh tightly to stop the blood flow, take a few breaths, self-evaluate if he can do this or not, then continued to fight.

He barely had any rest, because he believed he didn’t need much of that. If he had a day off, he would wash off all the blood and sweat on his body, eat until he’s satisfied, then slam himself on the bed and sleep for an entire day.

König was then deployed to Berlin. It was a rescue operation from the hands of Al-Quatala, and he led a team of five.

It was a mission under raining bullets. The commander has underestimated enemies’ resources, and König’s team was struggling with limited assets.

One of them was down during this twelve hours pain-in-the-ass battle. It made König frustrated at the whole situation.

He sweated under his gears and gloves, changing mags and yelling out order behind cover. He counted his bullets, not enough. His commander has not yet telling them to retreat.

Fucking bullshit, he mumbled. This better not be a suicide mission.

He then e saw a child being thrown out instead of a grenade, a few feet beside him. As he was taking in this sudden information, a flash of explosion blinded his eyes, he felt himself being knocked out by the shockwave.

He growled at the pain, got up from the bloody ground after a few seconds of struggle, then he saw half of an arm and one foot. Small. Belonged to the child.

König took a few breaths, their death sinking into his brain and it made his blood boil. For the first time, he didn’t wait for further instruction by the commander, as he let rage takeover the body.

And it became his weapon, he stormed into the room with his assault rifle, shot down a few panicked enemy that was fleeing to take cover. They did not expect anyone would storm into their base recklessly like this.

He double-tapped them, then took pursuit on the rest like a beast going rogue. Six were on the base floor, four on the roof top. If his ammo ran out, he’d ditch it and grab a rifle from the dead enemies. Turns out they had a fucking heavy machine gun, that’s why König’s squad were showered with bullets.

If there was a chance for melee combat, he’d use the most painful method without a blink.

He got shot twice on the arm, once on the leg form the back. He bit through it, half with adrenaline, half with his flaming rage. He had enough with this. Nothing could stop König on his rampage.

The remaining two were guarding the hostages. König took aim and shot one of them dead with one bullet.

The other screamed and wanted to run, but König was faster, pinned him down and grabbed him like a prey. His own blood stained the clothing, and the burning revenge was dripping down from his eyes, glared down at the enemy.

“You like to be cruel, ja?” König spitted, stabbed the knife into his eye. “Then I’ll pay it back to you!” He gutted out those painful screams. Again and again, as it was the only way to calm himself down.

When König was done venting his fire out, he turned to the hostages. He was almost covered in red with a pair bloodlust eyes. They were trembling at the sight of this man, refused to go with him.

They had to be convinced by the rest of his team, so they could be finally escorted to safety. The team also took care of König. They were terrified too.

König finally passed out on the retreat heli by the blood lost and by his overwhelmed mind.

#konig #konig call of duty #konig mw2 #könig #könig call of duty #könig cod #könig modern warfare #könig mw2 #konig cod #konig modern warfare #konig headcanons #könig headcanons #konig fanfiction #könig fanfiction #konig mwii #könig mwii

[hobiebrownbrowser]

Gentle Hobie Brown x Virgin F!reader

If the discussion wasn't embarrassing you didn't know what is, Your fingers fiddling with each other as he gently caresses your thigh. It would be a lie if you said you weren't nervous, A feeling of excitement and fear bubbling inside of you.

He looked you in the eyes before pulling you closer, Asking if you were ready one last time. You took a deep breath, nodding your head as you wrap your arms around his neck, his lips capturing yours.

A hand on your hips as he pulls you onto his lap. A gasp leaving you as he squeezes your ass. His tongue slipping into your mouth as he explores every crevice. A mewl escaping you as he gently bites your bottom lip.

His hand caressing your back as you pull away. His lazy eyes looking into yours as he pulls at the rim of your shirt, You obliged, Your thoughts running wild as you were half-naked in front of him. Hobie placing a soft kiss on your cleavage as he unclasps your bra, Tossing it away as he admires your breasts.

You covered your chest, the embarrassment growing as he continued to stare. He grasped your arms in his palms, gently pushing them away as he wraps his lips around your left bud, Pinching your right nipple between his fingers.

Your breathing becoming shallow as he places kisses all along your neck. His fingers intertwined with yours as he softly places you on your back, Asking one last time if you wanted to do this. You nodded, A wave of nervousness flowing in you as you watch him take off his shirt.

His beautiful skin glistening in the dimly lit room. The tip of his finger tugging against the rim of your panties. You hesitate before lifting your lower body, watching your undergarments being thrown away.

He spreads your legs, Your mind resisting the urge to close them as he kisses your abdomen, A shiver running down your spine as he blows on your clit. You playfully hit his shoulder, A chuckle coming from the man below you before pleasure shot through you.

His tongue flicking against your clit as he parts your folds with his lips. His hot breath tingling your cunt as he pushes the soft muscle past your folds, Your back arching as he pushes a single digit inside of you.

Slowly adding another as he thrusts them deeper. Your soft moans lingering in the air as the tip of his fingers assaults an odd spot inside of you. Your mind falling into the void as he continues to deliberately hit that spot. Your cries getting louder as you clench around his fingers.

Your body burning up as you felt something approaching. Your hands digging into Hobie's hair as a shockwave of pleasure pierces through you. Your arousal dripping onto the bedsheets as he pulls out his fingers. A heavy grunt falling from his lips as he rests on his knees.

Caressing your thighs as he waits for you to calm down. He pulls you closer, your legs wrapping around his waist as he hosts your hips into the air. His knees below you as he gently rubs your clitoris with his thumb.

"Ready luv?" You look at him with exhausted eyes, giving him the signal that you were ready. You took a deep breath, Your body jolting in surprise as the tip of his cock makes contact with your entrance.

A choked cry emitting from you as you feel him stretch you apart. His lips planted on yours to distract you from the agony. The pain overwhelming you, Tears streaming down your cheeks as you let out one last breaking cry, his cock bottoming inside you.

He caressed your back, Waiting for you too adjust to the pain, Placing gentle kisses along your neck as you give him the signal to move. His thrusts started off slow, his pace fastening the more you moaned out his name.

You felt every tense of his muscles. Your cunt clenching around him as pleasure runs through the both of you. His hoarse groans getting louder as your nails dig into his skin. Head in the clouds as he hits that odd spot once again.

"H-Hobie!" Your words slurred as drool tickles down the side of your chin. Your body trembling the more pleasure succumbed you. Your eyes blurred from the tears that swelled in your eyes. Hobie wiping them away as he whispers for you to cum for him.

Your body obeying him, soaking his cock in your arousal as he chases his own orgasm, Overstimulation catching up to you as you beg for him to cum inside of you.

His hips halting as a groan rings in your ears. Your eyes rolling back as you felt his cum seep inside of you. Uneven breathing filling the room as he lays atop of you. He finally pulled out of you, A whine escalating from you as you felt empty.

You slowly came back to reality, Hobie leaving you, handing you a glass of water before letting you rest a bit. A kiss being placed on your forehead as he lifts you into his arms.

Turning on the bath water as he grabs your favorite scented bath bomb. Throwing it in the tub and placing you in it. Getting you ready for bed as he picks out some comfortable clothing for you. You smiled, Enjoying your bath before laying beside your boyfriend.

Tiredness taking over you as Hobie urges you to get some rest. The smile still plastered on your face as you nuzzle your head against his neck.

"Goodnight beautiful."

Author note: I sadly have to put a community label on this soon.

Commission completed! (Click here to see the commission)

#hobart brown #hobie brown #hobie my beloved #hobie x reader #hobie x you #hobie brown x reader #hobie #hobie brown x fem!reader #hobie x y/n #hobart brown x reader #hobbie brown #hobie brown fanfiction #hobie brown smut #hobie brown x black reader #hobie brown x you #hobie smut #hobie brown x y/n #18+ fanfic #18+ content #18+ obviously #18+ post #18+ readings #spiderpunk x reader #spiderpunk smut #spider punk smut #spider punk x reader #spider punk x you #x y/n #hobie brown imagine #hobiebrown

[agent-cupcake]

Flashbang

Chapter 6 - Howl

Spotify Playlist / All Chapters / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 /

Pairing: One Piece Live Action Buggy x f! Reader

Synopsis: A night of several firsts.

Warnings: Explicit smut, violence/death, dub/noncon, consensual drug use

Word Count: 13.5k

Notes: What do you get when you cross a mentally ill reader with a society that abandons her and treats her like trash? I'll tell ya what you get! You get whatcha fuckin deserve [weird culty clown porn]

“Now I wait as love and fate Echo from your lungs Do you, do you, do you want me, babe?”

xxx

A blood red sun set upon the sea, shining a single golden spotlight across the water as pirates rallied for the Final Call. Not even the wind could cut through the kinetic mist of untapped aggression. The pirate ship was a powder keg of violent energy and artistic ego, pressure building and building for this very moment. The crew was ready and the tides were right and the prey was chosen. All they needed was for the curtain to raise.

When the bell finally rang, it would be a lit match into an oil drum. 

Not that you stayed around to appreciate any of it. You were safely stowed below long before the first cannon was fired. Like everything else on the ship, the brig had once been a neat, utilitarian holding cell. Time had worn the wood and metal, lending it a creepy, haunted atmosphere, the cramped space a graveyard of abandoned props. The scent of rust and aging wood and thick salty stale rot was borderline suffocating, the air holding you in a shivering cold vice. 

All you could do was pull your jacket closer, trying to get as comfortable as possible on top of one of the many prop chests. It was claustrophobically slotted between a barrel filled with batons and a drum that had a violent gash through the top, but it was one of the only places in the room where you couldn’t see your distorted reflection in the cracked funhouse mirror. 

Even though everyone assured you it would be an easy victory, even though you had seen Captain Buggy’s Devil Fruit ability, and even though you had witnessed the chaos of the assault on Barley Village, you worried for the crew. You didn’t know how to pray, or even what higher power might protect pirates, but you closed your eyes and hoped very fervently that your new friends and your captain would be fine.

Anything else was unthinkable.

After that, there wasn’t anything to do other than hunker down and endure the night. You thought that since you had seen the violence in Barley Village, that you wouldn’t be as affected by it now, especially since you couldn’t see anything. You thought that you were ready for the shockwave impact of cannons. You thought that it would be okay because you were stronger now. 

Maybe, on some level, that was true, but when you heard and felt that first boom your body responded with the unrestrained panic of a wild animal. If you hadn’t peed before you hid away, you would have pissed yourself in pure terror. All at once, your breathing became fast and shallow, your heart pounding in your chest, a cold sweat coating your body. Then there was another boom. And another BOOM and muscles you weren’t aware of until that moment began to tense and quiver, your lungs seizing as if in the throes of hysterical weeping, dragging in air only to regurgitate with a spasming violence. 

It was fine. It was nothing like that day. It was fine. Why would you even think of it now? It was fine. It was entirely different. It was fine.

It was fine and yet your body curled up into a ball with your arms around your head and chin tucked against your knees, your eye wide yet dry, your mouth gaping, opening and closing in a desperate attempt to suck in some air. Your brain was on fire and the only thing you could think was that you were going to die. It was as if your body didn’t belong to you, like it had a will of its own, feelings of its own, because you couldn’t understand the reaction, it didn’t make sense. 

As the assault above worked its way down, your lantern frantically swung back and forth in a smear of flame. The metal creaked unhappily, the ship complaining all around you like an unhappy beast. Part of the strategy, you knew, was to limit cannon fire. They didn’t want to destroy the ship they hoped to commandeer. But even after it seemed like all shots had been fired, your body refused to relax. Down here, you had no idea what was happening above. No idea if Captain Buggy was okay, or Crina, or Cabaji, or Pippa, or Marty. You wouldn’t know for a while. Possibly hours. 

If it weren’t for your state of hyperarousal, you might not have noticed the sound from above. A noise, and a scuffling, and then something that might have been footsteps. Was that the hatch opening? 

You held very still, listening intently. Those were footsteps. You weren’t alone. Why? It wouldn’t make sense for anybody to come down here. Not unless something happened. There were plenty of worst case scenarios that could bring somebody down here. 

Covering your face with your arm to stem the ragged gasp of your body trying to get air, you checked to make sure you had the knife Marty had given to you safely in your pocket. You didn’t know what you would do with it, but having a weapon was better than nothing.  

A man jumped down from the steep ladder with a grunt, landing hard. He stood in the shadows, making it hard to parse details, but you had a feeling. A very bad feeling. 

Then, in a moment of true and genuine surrealism, he called your name. Your real name, the one you hadn’t heard since you boarded the ship. He picked his way over to the brig’s holding cell, but the door was too rusty to close, and the inside was filled with more props. You could see him in the funhouse mirror, his image distorted into a creepy facsimile of a human being, his face stretched out and limbs grotesquely skinny. 

You didn’t move, half hoping you would be obscured by the amount of clutter that surrounded you. 

He stepped back, looking around until his eyes met yours. And still, you didn’t move, you could hardly believe it was real.  

“Easy now, I don’t wanna hurt you,” he said, stepping into the light with his hands up. “I’m looking for a girl. A hostage. Real short, one eye.” 

You didn’t say anything, didn’t move, just looked up at him. Your mind screamed run, but your limbs locked up.

The man squinted, leaning forward to get a better look. “Holy shit, it’s you, isn’t it?” 

A little spasm made your body jerk awkwardly, a burst of energy from the part of your mind that wanted to escape.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, holding up his hands to show that they were empty. “I’m here to save you from these freaks.” Your silence made him frown, some of the warmth fading from his voice. “We have to move fast, while they’re all distracted.” He came even closer, reaching out to grab you. 

“No!” you cried, recoiling. “I’m not… I’m not going with you. I don’t need to be rescued.” 

His eyes narrowed, you could practically hear the gears turning in his head. “You’re not their hostage, are you.” 

“No,” you said, once again checking your pocket for the knife, squeezing it so tight that the metal indented your skin. “I won’t go.” 

“Look,” he said, his voice hardening. “Your dad’s offering a lot of money for your safe return, so you’re going to come with me. Is that going to be a problem?” 

“You can’t make me go with you, I won’t,” you said, shrinking back. You were essentially cornered, but you were also closer to the ladder than he was. If you could scramble up and close the hatch, you could find a place to hide. 

“I want you to know that if it were up to me, I’d let it be,” he told you. “But you’ll have to figure that out with your dad.” 

With a burst of energy you didn’t know you had, you sprung up and practically fell off of the chest, scrambling towards the ladder. 

He swore, grabbing you by the arm to jerk you backwards before striking your face. With your momentum broken and then flipped, you couldn’t adjust, going down hard and hitting the floor without feeling much of anything, just the mindless, deafening fire burning up your entire face. You were blind, your right eye streaming, seeing nothing except dark. The man hauled you off of the floor, grabbing your arms to painfully twist them. Your left shoulder socket screamed with red hot pain. That soundly snuffed out any will you had to fight. 

“I’m going to… To wrap you up. Try not to hyperventilate,” he advised, his words muffled beneath the sharp ringing in your ears. You realized that you weren’t blind, you had crashed into the light and shattered it when you fell. The man did as promised, covering you with a sheath of coarse fabric. It smelled dusty and a little rotten, it was probably one of the prop curtains. You didn’t have time to struggle before he threw you onto his shoulder, knocking the wind out of you all over again. 

Blood rushed down into your pounding head, mixing with the potent disorientation of being struck. It pulsed against the burning flesh of your cheek, you could practically feel the swelling. You knew you needed to escape, but if he dropped you while climbing to the upper deck, you could seriously injure yourself. And what good would it do? There was no way you could escape, you would only invite more pain. Maybe some people got used to it. They could take beatings and bear the pain with their teeth grit, but that wasn’t you. Already your head hurt so bad you worried you were going to vomit, your face burned, your left shoulder screamed, and your breathing was dangerously unsteady, muffled and hot in the cocoon of dusty fabric. The pain you felt now was nothing compared to what it could be, you knew that profoundly, and you couldn’t handle that.  

Think. 

You had to think. 

When you gingerly raised your right arm to check, you found that your knife had stayed in your pocket through the ordeal. You couldn’t be stupid about using it. The blade wasn’t long enough to do much damage, the most you could hope for was that it’d give you a chance. 

Even muffled by the curtain and pierced by the sharp ringing in your ears, the sound of the battle was deafening when he reached the upper deck. Your final night in Barley Village had given you a hint of violence’s atonal song, but when the man carried you out of the hatch, it hit with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Screaming, shouting, clanging, popping shots, howling like animals. 

Your kidnapper’s grip on you tightened, although you were less inclined than ever to struggle, your body seizing up in response to the cacophony, withering in fear. You wanted it to stop, you wanted to get out of the noise, to escape to where it was quiet. Not outside quiet, but the inside kind. You could feel it creeping up with its anesthetic-like haze, your mind’s best attempt to protect you from the fear and the pain and the horror. 

No, you couldn’t withdraw. You had to be brave. You would not let him take you back to your dad. You could not let him take you away from Captain Buggy. 

Figuring out where you were was too difficult when there was so much noise and activity. He would be taking you to the Jolly Boats, wouldn’t he? That was the only way to escape. You needed to act while you were around people, where you could escape into the chaos. Better to take your chances amidst a brawl than let him get you onto that boat.

Slowly, you reached into your pocket and found the knife. Moving as little as possible, you worked your arm back down to hang forward. Fumbling blindly, you felt for the notch to flip the blade out, nearly dropping the weapon in the process. But you got it, readjusting the handle to hold it in your fist. Wrapped up like you were, there wasn’t much space for you to get good leverage or hit especially hard, but it was all you had. Biting into the loose fabric of your jacket to keep yourself from vomiting, you slammed your fist into your kidnapper’s back blade first. You imagined Buggy behind you, pulling your hand out to thrust it back in, helping you just like he had on that day. Once, twice, three times and then the man practically threw you off of him with some expletive that you were pretty sure ended in bitch. 

For a second you were falling blindly, wrapped in a suffocating shroud. Then the deck caught the bend of your spine, your momentum rolling you away into a painful sprawl. You fought wildly to free yourself of the fabric, your panicked limbs thrashing desperately. 

“You fucking—you stabbed me?” The man shouted incredulously. You shucked off the dusty cocoon finally, sour bile dribbling out of your mouth as your body finally relented to the stress. You choked and coughed it out, unable to do anything else with the massive jolt of sensory overload. You thought the fighting was loud and frightening from within your curtain cocoon, but it was nothing compared to finding yourself on the deck in the midst of a true hostile takeover. 

The man was right above you when he stopped in his tracks, something emerging from his chest. He looked down at it in surprise, but the blade pulled out just as quickly. He pressed his hand against the stab wound as blood began to gush out, looking more like ink than anything else. 

Before he could do anything, he was stabbed again, the sword sticking through his chest and out the back of his hand. When it pulled up and out, his body followed it. He hit the deck with a heavy thump, his body spasming as it tried to expel the blood in his lungs. Behind him stood your vengeful guardian angel. Cabaji lowered his sword, his expression unchanged as he stalked past your would-be kidnapper.

“Are you alright?” he asked when he was close enough for you to hear him. You stared up at him blankly, unable to comprehend the question. 

The man on deck in front of you wasn’t dead. Even as he choked on his own blood, he went for his weapon. Scowling, Cabaji pushed him down with his foot and finished him off, carving a bright red smile across his neck. The man dropped, his eyes open and empty. 

Cabaji sheathed his sword and offered you a hand. You took it and stood weightlessly, your head as light as a balloon. The world spun, blinking out of reality before it slammed back into you all over again, you were made of lead. Were you crying? Or just sobbing? You realized right then that your hands were shaking violently. The entire world shook and trembled. 

“You can’t stay up here,” Cabaji told you.

You nodded, agreeing because you knew you should.

“Stay close to me,” Cabaji told you. You nodded again, clinging to his back. Cabaji didn’t stop you from holding onto his scarf, practically burying your face in it, ignoring everything else as he guided you across the deck. Every muscle in your body strained with tension, the scent of blood and smoke and gunpowder choking you, the howling of men and explosions and steel only barely piercing past the ringing in your ears.

From what it looked like when you dared to look, the fight was very one-sided. The Buggy Pirates had overwhelmed the other ship with their noise and number. You passed beneath a screaming, thrashing woman who hung from the rigging, it looked like she had climbed up in an attempt to escape and gotten tangled up. Somebody had thrown one of the powder bombs at her, painting her in red. Richie the lion had joined the fray, looking every bit the beast you feared. Bodies littered the deck, their inky blood reflecting the colors flashing in the sky. And the pirates, people you knew, rejoiced in it, cackling and dancing and killing with a reckless joyousness you couldn’t fathom.

A surprise party. As in, the other ship must have been surprised by the vicious crowd of circus performers throwing a party on their ship. 

It was grotesque. Unnatural. You didn’t belong here, it didn’t make any sense that you were. It didn’t make sense. 

When Cabaji stopped at the quarterdeck hatch leading down the officer’s quarters, you nearly fell against him. He opened it up, stepping aside to usher you through. It was on unsteady feet that you stepped down onto the ladder, and with clumsier hands that fumbled. You hit the floor hard on your tailbone. There was no pain. Cabaji jumped down next to you, once again holding out a hand to hoist you back onto your feet. 

“Go into the captain’s cabin and lock the door.”

With the battle muffled, your deafening heartbeat took its place. You nodded, swallowing hard to pop your ears. “Yes,” you said. “Yes, sir.” 

Before he could ascend the ladder again, you grabbed his hand, looking him in the eye with a sudden, vivid flash of hyper reality, every detail of the ship and the man in front of you viscerally present.

“Thank you, Cabaji.”

Although his severe expression remained, you thought you felt him squeeze your hand in passing reassurance before swinging around to rejoin the chaos above. 

The trip back to the captain’s cabin was just that—a trip. After locking the door, you stumbled your way past the antechamber where you would normally wait and into Captain Buggy’s bedroom. For a long moment, you stood there looking at Buggy’s bed which you had neatly made earlier that day. His desk, littered with a familiar mess. 

This was real. All of it. 

Doubling over with a hard punch of nausea, you rushed to the bathroom, barely getting the lid up before you threw up everything in your stomach. Supper had been a while ago, there wasn’t much to expel other than acid, but your body violently convulsed in rounds as if to get rid of something more, something worse. Trying to rid itself of the sickness that nestled right into your bloody, corrupted insides, desperate to cleanse itself of the sticky rot that thickened your blood and made your head ache. 

But that relief never came. 

When you were so emptied out inside that your body couldn’t justify even dry heaving, you stood up and flushed the toilet. Moving slowly, lethargically, you grabbed the nearest liquid—a bottle of disinfecting alcohol Buggy used to wash his pierced ear—to rinse your mouth. It tasted foul and felt worse, but it removed the taste of vomit from your tongue. 

With slow, stumbling steps, you went into the bedroom and poured yourself a cup of water, drinking until you couldn’t take any more and then-

And then what? 

You stared at the worn down edge of his desk and even though you weren’t moving, couldn’t even feel yourself shaking anymore, the world was collapsing around you. It felt like that one time you fell out of one of the buildings northside, that hook like drag from behind your bellybutton as gravity got a hold of you, the terror that came moments before the agony of crashing onto the ground. 

Not knowing what else to do, you huddled in the corner. Not on the bed, but behind it. Hiding. 

You wanted to shut it all off, to retreat into the inside quiet like usual, to go where the world couldn’t touch you. There was too much pain and horror. Too many thoughts you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking. You did not belong here. You wanted to go home. 

That pathetic thought broke through the fragile composure you’d maintained and you curled up into yourself, crying openly. You didn’t want to be here anymore, it was scary and violent and loud. You wanted to go home.

Pressing a clammy, trembling hand to your cheek, you could almost feel your dad’s touch imprinted on the skin, burned there as surely as a brand. 

You closed your eye and it was as if you were in the familiar old sitting room with the overstuffed upholstery and fire that burned so brightly yet never seemed to put off any heat. That night, the last night before he left, dad called you to sit at his feet, appraising you with tired, bleary eyes. At the height of his fury, he looked more vicious god than man, towering above you with lightless pupils and a blank expression. Now he looked old and worn out. His days at sea had carved a million little creases into his face, the leathery flesh sagging off the bone from one too many emptied liquor bottles. 

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said as he stroked your cheek. “I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

“I know, daddy.”  

“My sweet little girl.” His words slurred together like they always did when he was in an affectionate mood. “You are, aren’t you?” 

“Yes, daddy.” 

“You’ll be good now, won’t you? You won’t misbehave while I’m gone?” 

What you wanted to remember was agreement. A bland ‘yes’ that you didn’t mean because of course you were going to run away. But that’s not what happened. That’s not what you said that night.

“Please don’t go,” you begged. That part of the memory was the most important because you understood it now. If he had stayed, you wouldn’t have left. You would have died in that house if he was there to keep you with him. Because you didn’t want to leave, not really. But you knew you couldn’t stay, either. You had to at least try to get out. But dad stroked your cheek and told you he would be back in a blink, that you wouldn’t have time to miss him. 

You saw him off the next morning, your shoulders heavy with the knowledge of what you were about to do. What you had to do. 

Destiny, fate, a bad joke—you didn’t know what to call it. Inevitability, maybe. Now you were here.

Your own hand dropped from your cheek, falling limp to the floor beside you as that memory fell away, replaced with another. 

“If he doesn’t kill you, your dad will. Do you really think you’ll ever be able to hide from him?” Randall said that right before you cut him—cut him a huge red smile—and he was right. That’s what this was. 

What happened tonight had been a deliberate attempt to kidnap you, to get away while everybody was distracted by the raid. Maybe your dad would be able to guess which merchant ships the Buggy Pirates would raid based on the stolen maps. Maybe he sent messages out to a few mercenary types, people who would be on board to protect the goods anyway, people who wouldn’t mind abandoning their crew for a bigger payout. Maybe this was just the most rotten confluence of bad luck and coincidence. 

The execution was overshadowed by the far more intimidating message of it all. He would never let you go, not you, not his sweet little girl. 

There was no quiet, not inside or out. The thrashing, raving thing within you screamed, and you did too. A ragged and terrible scream that ripped up the inside of your throat. It was pathetic and ugly. More than anything, it hurt.

Even if you went back to him, he would know what you had done. He would know that you weren’t his little girl anymore, that you were tarnished. One life burned for another you could never have. No matter what you thought or told yourself, you weren’t a pirate. You were a fake. A coward.

And there was nothing you could do. Not now, not anymore. Nowhere to go. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. 

For the first time since boarding the ship, you thought about what led you to this point. Really thought about it. The sneaking, the hiding, being strung up and threatened, the cage. Standing behind Randall with a stranger at your back, a knife in your hand, a blade to the neck of a man you had loved nearly all of your life, a man who never loved you. Screaming. Blood dripping down your wrist.

Murderer.

There were moments in your life that you thought were too much. You stopped crying, stopped shaking, stopped breathing, and knew, knew with absolute certainty, that you could not handle any more. Then time continued to march on, pulling you right along with it, and there was nothing other than your suffering, it was without end, and you wanted to die—more, you wanted to never have existed in the first place.

Those moments didn’t come when dad beat you, or when he screamed at you, or after losing mom, or because of what happened to your eye, or seeing Randall marry another girl. Pain and fear and sadness were immediate. Pain and fear and sadness, no matter how intolerable, made sense. At least you weren’t alone, at least you had a tether—even one that was barbed and electrified. 

True misery, the kind that made you want to claw your way out of your skin and rip out your still-beating heart, was a solitary experience. It came when the cellar door closed and you heard the lock turn. When your desperate pleas and apologies and cries were met with silence because nobody was close enough to hear them. Those dark hours you spent curled up on the stone floor shivering, listening to your wheezing breath shudder in and out of your lungs. When the quiet didn’t come and you realized the enormity of imprisonment. It wasn’t that you were trapped in the dark, dank cellar with rats, or in a house with your angry dad, or in a town where everybody thought you were a freak. Hell was realizing that you were trapped within yourself, with the monstrous creature who lived in your head, the one that hated you so bitterly. Was that you? You without any mask at all, exposed and plain and wretched and a murderer.  

It was too much. You could not handle it.

But there was nothing else. No one else. And you only had yourself to blame. 

There was something Randall used to tell you. He’d laugh good-naturedly and say you’ve really stepped in it now. You could hear him now, as clearly as if he were right next to you. 

You’ve really stepped in it now.

You heard the door unlock and open from the other room. The sound jolted you stiff, a gasp leaving your sore throat. 

“Honey, I’m hoooome,” Buggy called, shutting the door. Hearing that it was him made your shoulders relax a little. Did that mean the fighting was over? “Babydoll, are you here? Cabaji told me you were naughty and he had to put you in time out.”

“I’m back here,” you called on autopilot, your voice cracking.

You had no idea what happened now, or what you were meant to do. There was nothing you could do to hide the fact that you had been crying, no matter how much you wiped your face. Bracing yourself for anything, you got to your feet. Standing up so fast made you dizzy, and suddenly you felt quite aware of how ridiculous it all was. Pathetic. A pirate wouldn’t cower in the corner of a room crying like a child. A grown woman wouldn’t do that. 

You reached up to pull down your bandana, only to poke your left eye. It must have come undone sometime during the attempted kidnapping. You lost your knife too. That hurt worse than losing your bandana, nearly prompting you to start crying all over again. 

“Where oh where has my baby gone,” Buggy began to sing as he walked through the other room. “Oh, where, oh, where can she be? She whines so sweet, like a bitch in heat—” He reached the open doorway, smiling as soon as he saw you. “Oh, there you are. I didn’t wake you up, did I?” 

“No, sir,” you said, your head bowed to hide your splotchy red face.

“What were you doing?” 

You sniffled. “Nothing, sir.” 

“Aw, did the big scawy fight make you cwy?” Buggy asked. You shook your head fast, unwilling to trust that your voice wouldn’t break if you spoke. “Don’t be embarrassed. It’s okay to be scared your first time. Even I was a little freaked out during my first big raid.” 

You dared to look up, your eyebrows furrowed. “Really?” 

“No,” he said, laughing as if the thought itself were too ridiculous to entertain. “Can you imagine me being scared?” 

He took his gloves off, tossing them aside. Buggy had lost his hat and coat and his clothes were splattered with blood and colorful powder and who knows what else, but he wasn’t wounded. He was fine, and he was in good spirits. That was good. 

“You know,” Buggy finally said to break the silence, “if you want me to keep you around, you’re gonna have to suck it up and put on your big girl pants. Nobody likes a crybaby.” 

“I know,” you said softly, self loathing making your chest swell, sitting heavily on your heart and lungs like a tumor. “I’m sorry, sir.”  

“God, you’re so… so pitiful,” Buggy said. “Yeah, no. That’s not gonna do it for me tonight. We’re drinking.”

You side-eyed his collection of bottles. The sweet liquor he had shared that first night was an outlier, most of what Buggy drank was much harder and more abrasive. Even the smell made your stomach turn, you had no idea how he could handle it. “I’m okay,” you said, wiping your eye again. 

“Oh, right. Poor little baby can’t handle her liquor. Don’t worry, Captain Buggy has just what you need. I scored this a month ago at a club owned by this Saydon guy.” He walked over to the armoire, shuffling around the clutter before finding a bottle. “He’s a thieving sack of shit without an original bone in his body, but I had a good time fleecing his stupid customers. This,” he held up the bottle as he turned and approached you, “is the good shit, straight from some rich guy’s personal stash. I was going to sell it, but I’m willing to sacrifice a few berry to cheer up my pathetic little charity case.”

You swallowed hard at the offer, looking from his smile to the bottle. Thick red glass and a real paper label, although the text was illegible. 

“Let me pour you some so we can skip to the part where you’re not making me miserable and we can celebrate my brave and triumphant victory.”

“Okay,” you said. It was fine, probably some type of opiate. Your dad had given you that sort of thing to help you stave off the hysteria before. It would be nicer than feeling like this, wrung out and hiccupping in the pitiful clutches of despair. 

“Gotta be careful not to overdo it. Hey, you wanna eyeball this for me?” Buggy asked, laughing as he measured out the tincture and added some water. Seeing your lack of smile as he handed you the cup, he sighed dramatically and grabbed one of the bottles from his desk. “A toast to the flawless victory won tonight by the most fearsome captain in all of the East Blue.”

“To Captain Buggy,” you said. Buggy drew back the bottle, giving you a sharp look. Sluggish as your brain was, it took an excruciatingly long few seconds to realize what he wanted. “To Captain Buggy, the future King of the Pirates... and-and the best man I’ve ever known,” you tried again.

“Eh… I’ll take it,” he allowed with a shrug, tapping his bottle to your cup.

The drink was as terrible as you expected, but the taste of bitter medicine was still better than hard liquor. Buggy clearly didn’t feel the same, downing a mouthful without even wincing before unceremoniously collapsing onto the end of his bed. You ran a hand over your face. Red, hot, and a little swollen. You knew you looked rough, probably about as bad as you felt. 

“You weren’t this weepy last time,” Buggy said. “You weren’t worried about me, were you?” 

“Of course I was,” you said, frowning. “I was worried about all of you. I… I don’t know what I would do without you, Captain Buggy. I’m sorry, I’m…” You shook your head, trying to clear it somewhat. “It’s silly.” 

“Yeah it is. Those idiots wouldn’t be able to hurt me even if I was doused in seawater and blindfolded,” Buggy said, rolling his eyes and leaning back on his elbows. “It was so easy, barely even worth bragging about. After I killed like ten of his men, the captain came out with this huge sword—clearly compensating for something. I let him get a good swing in right through the middle, and you should have seen his eyes when I put myself back together. His reaction was even better than yours. I’m pretty sure he shit himself.”

“And everyone else?” you asked.

“Yeah, they did fine too,” he said flippantly. “Frankly, it was boring. For me, at least. I could probably have taken them down all by myself.” He sighed dramatically. “But, hey, it was a good learning experience for my freaks.” 

You nodded, dropping down to your knees to take his boots like always.

Buggy capped the bottle and buried it in the sheets, pulling something out of his pants pocket. You glanced up to see him messing with something wrapped in thin foil wrapping before forcing yourself to focus on the nightly ritual of wrestling his boots off. They were splattered in blood, a fact you only realized when some of it smeared onto your hands.

“I found these in his office,” Buggy said after you got the first boot off. “Salted caramels. They’re a bitch to get out of your teeth, but-” Buggy popped one in his mouth, moaning loudly at the taste, “sooo good. Want one?” 

You were more concerned with the unabashedly vulgar moan than you were with the candy, it took you a second to remember the question. 

“Oh, um. Yes,” you finally said. “Yes, please.” 

“Okay, but don’t tell anyone that I’m playing favorites,” Buggy said as he unwrapped another, sitting up to hold it out. When you tried to take it, he pulled away. “Ah, ah, ah. Open wide, babydoll.” 

You frowned, realizing that he meant to feed it to you. “Why?” 

“Look at your hands! Have you got any idea how nasty blood is? Come on, say ahhh.” 

You sat up to take it with your mouth, he pulled it back at the last second, your lips closing around empty air. 

“Oh, you almost got it,” Buggy teased. “Try again.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Captain Buggy, why…?”  

“I’m teaching you a valuable lesson. If you really want something, you have to work for it.” He held the chunk of caramel up again, within reach. Once again, you tried to eat it, but he pulled it away again. “So close,” he taunted. Every time you leaned closer, Buggy pulled it away, scooting further up the bed to keep it just out of reach, laughing the whole time. It forced you to crawl up, bracing yourself on the edge of the bed to chase the prize. Once you thought you really had it, uncomfortably hovering above him, he looked you in the eye and popped the candy into his mouth. “Guess you didn’t want it that bad,” Buggy said with a big grin, the words gummed up as he chewed. 

Flushing with embarrassment, you sat back onto your knees. 

“You know,” Buggy said, sitting up. “I had a dog once that did the exact same trick. It wasn’t as good as when you do it, although he was a lot better at actually getting the treat.” Foil crinkled and, this time, he pressed the caramel directly against your lips, pushing until you accepted it. You were too caught off guard by the way he’d put it into your mouth to do anything other than automatically chew and swallow, barely tasting anything. “See?” he asked. “Delicious, right?” 

“Yeah,” you belatedly agreed, the word coming out on autopilot.

“I can’t stand having sticky fingers,” Buggy said, tapping his tacky fingertips together with a frown. “Be a good little puppy and lick them clean for me.” 

You blinked, laughing dizzily in disbelief before you fully comprehended what he said. “What?”

“It’s what dogs do, isn’t it?” Buggy asked, wagging his fingers in front of your face. 

“You mean it?” you asked, hoping that he was just playing with you. 

“Yes, I do,” he said slowly, condescendingly. “It can’t be that much more embarrassing than doing tricks, right?” 

 So it was just another game. An embarrassing one. It felt dirty, like something you shouldn’t have been doing. But maybe that was in your head. Maybe Buggy didn’t see it that way. It was fine. Avoiding looking up, you opened your mouth for him. He said to lick them clean, but it was more practical to close your lips and suck until there were no more traces of caramel stickiness on his skin. 

“And Cabaji says you’re dead weight,” Buggy said, satisfied. Pulling his fingers out of your mouth with a slick pop, he leaned back again, grabbing the bottle from the sheets to take another drink. 

“Cabaji says that?” you asked, confused. You and Cabaji were, well, not friends. But he saved you. When you thanked him, he squeezed your hand. Hadn’t he? When you tried to think of it, the whole night floated somewhere distant, far beyond the warm bubble of this room, there was a chance you made that part up. 

“Are you ever gonna finish up down there?” Buggy asked as if he hadn’t heard you, raising his remaining boot. Somehow, you’d forgotten that removing his boots was the reason you were on the floor to begin with. Trying to shake your head clear, you braced yourself to get his boot off. It took more effort than it probably should have. Your limbs had loosened, your head light like a balloon. When it came free, you tipped backwards, thumping down on the floor. There was no pain. 

Buggy laughed. Surprised at first, then louder, a big belly laugh.  

You sat up, dazed and frowning. Your expression only made him laugh harder. When his amusement settled somewhat, he managed to speak. “You okay?”

“It’s not that funny,” you said.

“You know when you see a kid trying their little heart out to do something, but they keep failing because they’re so small and stupid? It’s like that,” Buggy said. “Watching you struggle with everything you try to do is half the reason I keep you around.”

Frowning with all of the indignant strength you could muster, you got your legs beneath yourself, using the edge of his desk to stand. Although it had probably been more of a gradual process you were simply unaware of—that would explain your lack of concern with his antics—it was only when you were upright that you fully realized the impact of the medicine. 

Woah. 

Breathing deeply, you followed the motions of getting a rag to clean up your hands, surprised at how lethargically you moved, how warm your skin felt. Annoyed, you pushed off your jacket, relaxing when its weight was gone from your shoulders. 

You mumbled an apology, something about the room being too warm, turning to look at Buggy. The air felt so nice brushing against your bare skin, like warm little whispers all over your arms and legs.

“Hey, kiddo, you’re lookin’ kinda flushed,” Buggy said. “I didn’t give you too much, did I?”

You blinked slowly, caught off guard by the way his pale skin glowed in the warm lamplight, the way it highlighted the shadows beneath his cheekbones. “What?”

“Come here,” he said, holding his hand out to you. 

It wasn’t a long distance, a few feet at most, but your legs weren’t steady at all. You let go of the desk and almost immediately tipped forward. 

“Sheesh,” Buggy said with a laugh, catching you before you fell. “I didn’t expect you to throw yourself at me.”

“Sorry,” you said distantly, trying to get your bearings. The melty lightheaded feeling had your head spinning, reality shifting on its axis before snapping back into place. 

“It’s not like it's the first time,” Buggy joked, grinning. Standing like this, your hands on his shoulders, you were so close. His breath smelled like whiskey and caramel and his makeup had faded and smeared after the fight. You wanted to be closer, to feel his bare skin against yours. That would be so nice, wouldn’t it? He was warm and solid and-

You looked around, overcome with the absurdity of the situation. How long had you been in here? The air was warm and too close, and your bandana was gone when you nervously tried to pull it down. 

“Sorry, um… What?” you asked with a confused smile, trying to focus your thoughts. “I… can’t think…” 

“It’s not like I keep you around for your brains,” Buggy told you. He sounded a little drunk, smiling that boyish grin you usually only saw in the morning. “Why don’t you sit down? We’re still celebrating.” 

“What about your… your makeup?” you asked, trying to find a familiar point to tether yourself with. 

“What about yours?” Buggy asked, running his thumb over your cheek. “It’s smeared all over your face. You look like a one-eyed racoon.” 

“Oh, I… I forgot,” you said, running a finger under your eye. It came away smeared with black makeup. “I’m sorry.” 

“I don’t mind it,” Buggy said, “Actually, you look kinda cute like this—all cried out and red and pathetic. I don’t know why, but there’s something about that sad look you get that really turns me on. Is that weird?”

A beat too late, your eye widened in surprise, your shoulders raising defensively. “You can’t say that.” 

“Why not?”  

“Because…” You floundered, searching for the right words. The other night when you were drunk, the alcohol made your thoughts scatter, difficult to interpret. This drug was different, it eased away the edges. Too many words and a very soft world in which to speak them. That was confusing, just for a different reason. “Because it’s not true,” you finally said, almost proud to have remembered what you meant to say. “You’re just trying to embarrass me.” 

Buggy laughed. “I don’t have to make shit up to embarrass you. Half the time you spare me the trouble and do it yourself.” 

You frowned, your eyebrows furrowing. 

“Don’t worry,” he said soothingly, “I’m into it.”

You looked at him for a second before laughing nervously, a little tremor working down your spine. “Captain Buggy, I, um…” 

“Don’t you trust me?” he cooed in an overly saccharine tone. 

“Yes, I do.” 

“You’re not afraid I’m trying to pressure you into something, are you? It’s not like there’s anything wrong with sitting together. I bet you sat on your dad’s lap all the time,” Buggy said as he pulled you towards him, scooting back to make more room for you to sit. 

“Not… like this,” you said, your nervous smile straining as you tried to twist sideways to sit with your legs across his lap because that was the normal, safe way. Sitting with your legs straddling his hips was entirely different and wrong. “Isn’t this… awkward for you?” 

“Not at all. Make yourself comfortable.” You tried to hold your weight off of him, one foot on the floor, but he reached around to hook a hand around your thigh, forcing you fully onto the bed and onto his lap. “Yeah, just like-” Buggy’s words cut off with a groan when you tilted forward, a sound that made you tense up, very, very aware of his hips between your thighs. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, trying to squirm away. “Did I hurt you? I can… move…”

“No, don’t,” Buggy said, his hold on your hips tightening. “It’s, uh…” He exhaled harshly. “Fuck. I swear I never even thought this sorta thing was hot before now… Like, sure, I guess it’s a little charming when girls get coy and act like they’re innocent, but, I don’t know, it’s so played out. But then the real deal comes around and suddenly I get the appeal. I really get it.” 

You giggled at that. It wasn’t funny, you weren’t sure why you would find it amusing. “Shhh,” you said as seriously as you could. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not? It’s true, isn’t it?” Buggy asked, raising his eyebrows. “Have you ever even kissed anybody?” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Yes, I have.”

“Riiiight, that shithead from the other day. But he abandoned you, didn’t he? Broke your poor little heart all because he couldn’t imagine looking at your busted eye while fucking you.” Buggy’s hand raised to cradle your head, his thumb tracing the scar beneath your left eye. “Well, personally, I think it’s hot that you’re just as damaged on the outside as you are on the inside.”

“No,” you told him, shaking your head with more vigor than was warranted when you weren’t sure what, exactly, you were protesting. 

“Between you and me,” Buggy continued, leaning even closer to speak in a conspiratorial tone, “last time I was jacking off, all I could think about was how adorable it is. Your eyes just scream ‘rape me’ which is weird because only one of them works, and believe me, it makes it pretty damn difficult when you spend so much time on your knees. God, would you even know what was going on if I popped a boner while you were down there? I’m chubbed up half the time and you don’t seem to get it.”

That crossed a line you hadn’t been aware of, and he said it so easily. So casually. The words dripped hot poison into your core, pulling a dark shiver down your spine and an unexpected sound from your mouth. You didn’t mean it, you never really did, but your mind was drifting above the clouds, leaving your body to try and sort out the feelings he so effortlessly dragged out of you. As soon as your reaction registered, you clasped both hands over your mouth with enough force to almost send you tumbling backwards, but Buggy pulled you back, laughing.  

“What was that?” 

“I… didn’t mean to,” you said, but he probably couldn’t hear through your hands.

“No, seriously. Do you practice these sounds ahead of time, or do they just happen?”

“I’m sorry,” you said, releasing your mouth. “I…” When you squirmed in discomfort, his hips rolled to meet it, grinding directly between your legs. You squeezed your eye shut, just trying to breathe. The drug made your body relax, but it relaxed too much, dragging you down with the heaviness of your flesh. A bubble of sound left you, something like a sob or a laugh or a hiccup. “Why are you doing this?” 

“Because it’s fun and, more importantly, because I want to,” Buggy said in a matter-of-fact way. “Do you want me to stop?”

You shook your head again, refusing to look at him as if that would buy you some time so you could find an answer. 

“Hey, your captain asked you a question.” 

“I… don’t know…” you told him, fleetingly meeting his eye in an attempt to convey your inner conflict, to make him understand what you felt.

Buggy made a harsh sound of frustration, his eyes rolling up to stare at the ceiling. “Yeah, that’s not really an answer. The last thing I need right now is you waking up tomorrow and crying molestation or some bullshit.”

“I wouldn’t,” you told him. “I don’t want you to-to stop, but… I-I don’t know what… or-or how, I…”

“Ah, I’m doing this all wrong, aren’t I?” he said in a softer tone, looking back down to meet your eye, smiling and petting your hair. “I mean what is the first rule of storytelling?” 

You frowned, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion. 

“Show,” Buggy answered for you, his hand sneaking around to hold the back of your head, “don’t tell.” 

It wasn’t a kiss, not at first. At first it was just hot and wet because you didn’t understand what was going on. You knew you were supposed to open your mouth, so you did, but you couldn’t comprehend anything other than the vulgar assault of tongue and teeth. He tasted like salt and caramel and liquor and greasepaint. It was strange to feel his nose pressing against your cheek and the drag of his stubble against your skin.

Then something clicked, your body taking over while your mind faltered behind. With the drug swimming in your system, everything felt at least a little good. The heaviness inside of you was also raw, stimulating warmth, a sort of buzzing wherever the two of you touched. Kissing Buggy felt even better. Being kissed, letting him guide you. It was filthy and messy and a little gross to feel his tongue in your mouth, but it was animalistically hot. 

When his hand pushed under your shirt, it tickled enough to make you laugh, squirming in his lap. He groaned hungrily right into your mouth, his hips grinding up against you. With one arm wrapped around you to keep your head in place, the other pushed your undershirt up and out of the way to palm your breasts. The limited exploration you had done with your body had given you the impression that you were indifferent to feeling anything other than disgust and shame, but the sensation of him rolling your nipple between two rough fingers zipped down your spine like electricity. 

Even muffled by his mouth, you couldn’t stop yourself from moaning and whimpering, from helplessly pressing yourself against him for more. He said you hadn’t noticed when he was hard before, but you were pretty sure that’s what you were feeling right then, that it was his erection hot and hard between your legs. 

Leaving both nipples hard and painfully sensitive, his hand slipped down to wiggle under the waistband of your shorts. Bad. Bad. Wrong. Very wrong. You pulled away with a harsh gasp, trying to squirm away from that hand. 

“Hey, no, it’s okay. I’m just gonna check real quick to see if you’re wet,” Buggy said to console you. His makeup was smeared from the kiss, and his eyes were round and excited. “It’s not weird, I’m just trying to figure out where we’re at with the whole consent thing, okay?” 

“Okay,” you mumbled, even if you had no idea what one had to do with the other. The angle was awkward, especially when he had to navigate beneath the confines of your shorts, but his searching fingers found your clothed pussy pretty quickly. His touch shocked you as physically as a jolt of electricity. Even through your panties, there was a foreign intensity to the pressure. More intense, maybe, was the look in his eyes. You expected amusement, but there was none. Stripped of the jokes and the teasing and the smile and the crass comments, he was somebody who wanted. Wanted you.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Buggy said, his fingers curling, pushing the fabric of your panties between your folds, and you choked back an embarrassing whimper, your hips unintentionally bucking forward.

“I don’t think this is… I’m really, really sorry, I…” you stammered out, stumbling over your excuses and apologies and anything at all that would get you out of this. “I mean, we shouldn’t, it’s probably not-”

“Shut up,” Buggy told you sharply. “Here I thought I should take things slow so you didn’t feel too bad about it afterwards, but you’re fuckin’ soaked.”

“No, it… ‘s not-”

“No?” he cut in, easily shutting you up with another curl of his fingers. “So what am I feeling right now. Did’ya piss yourself or something?” 

“I didn’t! It’s just…” Hard to think. Hard to talk. Hard to figure out what you wanted. Hard to know what was happening, what he expected. You laughed a little, hoping that he would too, and that this would be a joke, but he didn’t. You broke, shaking your head and whining. “It’s too… too embarrassing.” 

“For you, maybe. I mean, jeez, talk about desperate. You really want me, huh?”

“I… I don’t know if… I shouldn’t.”

“God, it’s like pulling teeth,” Buggy said, pulling his hand out from between your legs. “Wait, there’s an idea. Should I go get the pliers? Will that get me a straight answer out of you?”

You swallowed hard, trying to focus on anything other than the zapping memory of his hand down your shorts. If you didn’t want something, you already would have left, your body wouldn’t be singing and surging to get more of his touch. But you couldn’t say that you wanted to go further either because you could not imagine or conceptualize that happening. More than anything, you didn’t want to be alone. You didn’t want to disappoint him. The idea of being touched drove you wild, but there was a sickness in your stomach that was only getting worse. 

“Listen, babydoll,” Buggy told you, his voice lowering, steady like he was talking to a frightened animal. “I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do, but I’m really hard right now so I’m gonna come. You can either stay here and come with me or get the hell out of here.” As much as you could feel Buggy trying to maintain composure, it wasn’t working.

You closed your eye, trying to think, just to scrape together a single coherent thought that would help you figure out what to do, but instead you thought of the warehouse. The air stank of wet rot and ocean air and old metal. “New girl,” Buggy had called, snapping to beckon you closer. Randall knelt on the ground. Pathetic and powerless, groaning in pain. You obliged then, rushing to Buggy’s side, your feet crunching on the broken glass and chunks of old building. Buggy didn’t look angry, not like you feared he would. Instead, he smiled. It was a mean smile, a frightening one. But a smile all the same, a gruesome expression meant to set you at ease, and maybe to keep himself composed. “Are you ready for your big moment?”

“So, uh,” Buggy, the real one, the one sitting beneath you watching with expectant eyes, said, licking his lips, “which is it?”

There was only one answer, there had only ever been one. You didn’t know. These things, your choices, weren’t for you to make. So you didn’t know. Not then and not now. Instead, you took the knife he offered and asked for him to show you how. Instead, you pressed yourself closer to him, hoping that he would decide, desperate for him to choose for you. Buggy moaned, his hips rolling upward to meet yours. He caught himself quickly, practically growling in frustration. 

“Fuck… Stop,” Buggy told you in a rough voice, grabbing you by the back of the hair to force you still. “I need you to tell me what you want. Out loud. Right now, so it's on the record.”

“I want,” you told him in a weak voice, stopping there as you tried to find the right words.

“Yeah?” He prompted you.

“I want…” The words sounded so far away, like it wasn’t really you speaking them at all, as if you were trying to guess the right answer. “I want you, Captain Buggy. Anything you want, I’m yours.” 

“Finally!” Buggy said with a hoarse laugh, shaking you back and forth. “See how easy it is when you allow yourself to be honest?”

Easy. It was easy, of course it was easy, of course you wanted to give him whatever he wanted, especially if it was you. Anything, anything, everything. Buggy grabbed you by the hips to spin you around, dropping you onto the bed. You landed on your back and bounced twice, dizzy from the sudden shift. Buggy was already kneeling between your legs by the time you blinked your vision clear, roughly getting out of his pants. 

“Since we’re being honest now, I’ll tell you something too—I’m glad this is your first time,” Buggy told you, flinging off his shirt before getting you out of yours. He didn’t undress you with any grace, pulling your shirt and undershirt off in a twisted bundle of fabric, leaving you half naked to his manic, hungry eyes. “Opening night is special,” he continued, licking his lips. “It’s something that nobody has ever seen before. Sure, it lacks the polish of later shows, but there’s beauty in that. It’s real, it’s raw. This, right now, is your debut, babydoll. I wanna see you come. Once, maybe twice just to start because then I’m going to fuck you and that…” Buggy laughed, pulling off one boot and tossing it behind himself with a thump before taking the other. You sat up, trying to cover your chest, only to be knocked back down when he grabbed the waistband of your shorts and underwear to pull them down your thighs, curling your legs up to shake you out of them. “It might hurt, after all of this teasing I don’t think I’ll be able to hold myself back. But that’s good. You want it to hurt, it should hurt—pain is how good art is made.”

Before you could respond to that, he descended upon you. Not a kiss this time. At least, not a kiss on the lips. While his fingers trailed up your thigh, his mouth latched on your neck. The same moment he found your entrance, his teeth dug into your sensitive skin. When he began to suck, his fingers trailed upward to land on your clit.

You might have wailed, if only you had enough air in your lungs to do so. He only got a sharp, pathetic whine and more nervous giggling, your hips jumping up into his hand. Somewhere inside of your swimming mind, there was a thought. A spark of one, a bit of consciousness that had no real conclusion before it bubbled out of your mouth in a string of stuttered “I…I…I…”  while your hands gripped desperately at his shoulders. He kept rubbing your clit and you knew, logically, that it would feel better if you stayed still, but you couldn’t. 

Buggy pulled away from your neck with a slick pop. “Can you…fuckin’...can you settle down? I can’t do this with you trying to buck me off.” 

You meant to tell him that it wasn’t your fault, that you couldn’t keep still, but the only response your drugged brain could manage was a nervous smile and hiccup. Making a sound of frustration, Buggy sat up and grabbed you by the waist to pull you down, his forearm settling across your pelvis to keep your hips flat. With his weight pinning down one leg and your other shoved aside by a not so gentle slap, you couldn’t go anywhere. So you whined, giving up and covering your face with your hands instead. 

Buggy laughed. “Don’t act so pathetic, I know you love this. You're sooo sensitive," he said, lazily pushing a finger into your pussy before dragging it out. Letting his fingers glide between your folds with an agonizingly light touch, drawing little circles over your swollen clit. Again and again and again and- "I’m barely doing anything and you're practically having a seizure down there." 

You whimpered, squirming beneath him to no avail. He had your hips completely immobilized. Buggy laughed again, slowly sinking his fingers into your pussy. Two of them now. Two calloused fingers to press deep into you, to seek out the spongy spot as they curled and thrust in and out. Slow, painfully slow. There was nothing you could do about it. Push at his shoulders with shaking hands, arch your back to nowhere, shake your head back and forth like it mattered, like he cared. You tried to laugh like he did, needed to diffuse some of the scorching tension, but the sound was breathy and high pitched and it wasn’t funny, it was torture. 

Buggy’s fingers finally broke the slow pace to practically slam into you, and it sounded disgusting. Wet, harsh. You couldn’t stop shaking, and there wasn’t enough air, your lungs were being collapsed by the weight of the drug. Despite that, despite everything, your pussy squeezed his fingers, only getting wetter the rougher he got. The noises you made, the mewling and the whining and the moaning, were practically innocent compared to the loud squelching of each thrust.  

“It sounds like I’m plunging a fuckin’ toilet,” Buggy said, laughing.

You pressed your palms against your eyes as if that would hide you, caught between humiliation and need. “I’m s-ss-sorry,” you babbled. “It’s… gross… I’m sorry, please just… Stop, it’s—”

“Stop?” he repeated. “Is that what you just said? You’re giving me orders now?” He slowed down, only to add another finger. The frantic rise of tension had your heels digging into his bed, your hands unable to decide if you wanted to cover your face or claw at the sheets. 

“No! No, no no—” What were you even denying at this point? It was all incoherent anyway, and you knew you didn’t actually mean it.

“Do you know when I’m gonna stop?” Buggy asked. “After you come all over my hand. So quit yer yappin’ and hurry it up.”

Your whimper was barely audible, but it was one of resignation. He was right, the slick squelching sounds really did conjure the worst imagery. But, somehow, not even that killed your building orgasm. Neither did the musky smell, or the gross feeling of your sweat soaking into his bedding. It was all just sex and, right then, it was hot. You couldn’t focus on anything other than the tightening coil in your core, not even the man fucking you with three fingers, going hard enough to hurt, hooking and curling with each thrust to grind them against the spongy spot inside of you. The only thing that mattered was the pleasure that sat on the very tip of your tongue and how badly you needed it. To please him, to end this embarrassing torment, to stop inconveniencing him. You had no idea if it was what you wanted but, one way or another, your body would expel the foam in your head, the need in your belly. Come or throw up or scream. 

With a choked yelp, you came. Your back arched, your body fighting against Buggy’s hold. You had one hand across your face while the other desperately clawed at the sheets and you wanted to fuck yourself on his fingers, to meet them with each thrust, but you couldn’t move your hips. All you could do was take what you were given, endure the helplessness, the sticky waves of pleasure. 

And then it was over, just hot air and sweat.

There was a sense that you were not yourself, like you had been unbound from your existence as a person. But also one that stitched you into your hot, heavy skin so tightly that you knew you could not ever be somebody else. The lucidity of the feeling killed your desire, you needed a break. You needed to breathe. 

“No more,” you told him, trying to squirm away, to grab his hand. “Please, I… Please, no more.” 

“That was it? Seriously?” Buggy asked, incredulously amused. His fingers did slow down, stroking your g-spot in a way that made you twitch uncontrollably. “You just came?” 

“I’m sorry,” you said breathlessly, covering your face with your trembling hands.

Buggy laughed in delight. “No, it was,” he said, finally pulling his fingers out and taking his weight off of you, “weirdly adorable. I was just joking about the puppy thing earlier, but you’re kind of proving my point. Girls usually, you know, moan. Or scream or something, I don’t know. What is it, do you think? The daddy issues? Or is it ‘cause I’m the first guy to make you come? Don’t get me wrong, I liked it, it was fuckin’ hot, but now I’m curious. Do you think you can moan like a normal girl at all, or are you just gonna keep whining the whole time?”

“I, um… I-I don’t,” were the only words you could muster as you stared at him, completely still. For a couple of seconds you had fooled yourself into thinking you had escaped the red stained-glass fog of the drug, but the vulgarity drew you right back in, enveloping you in its humid dusk.  

Buggy grinned, a mad expression. “Guess we’ll find out.” 

When he pulled off his underwear, you didn’t know if it was okay for you to look or not, your eye flicking nervously from his smile to the pale expanse of his torso, following the trail of hair that led down, and down. His cock bobbed up the moment it was free. It was more intimidating of a sight than you thought it would be, giving you that uncanny sense of vertigo, like staring down a very high cliff into some unknown abyss. This was wrong. Buggy clearly had no such reservations, spitting into his hand to stroke his dick as he loomed above you. 

“You’ve got me in a romantic mood, you can stay just like that,” Buggy said as he crowded you further up the bed. You stared up at him, stiff and too nervous to move. He frowned. “Okay, well I didn’t mean literally just like that, you’re gonna have to make some room for me.” He gave you a second before huffing in irritation, rolling his eyes. “Fuckin’ virgins.”  

Buggy grabbed you, hauling you up the bed to drop you unceremoniously into the pillows. You squeaked, trying to hold onto him while he hiked your legs up his waist. Breathing was difficult, all of the air smelled like Buggy and sex and you were so, so aware of the way it pressed slowly out of your chest. He released your right leg to grab his cock, slicking it between your folds. That made you gasp sharply, your fingers digging into his back. 

“Are you trying to scratch me?” Buggy asked, amused but distracted as kept nudging his dick between your folds, his hips rolling forward when it caught on your entrance. 

“I… I’m… No-hh—I-I-” Any part of your mind that was still functioning was focused entirely on the pressure of his cock as he pushed forward again, pressing it a little deeper. 

“I don’t mind it,” Buggy told you, “but fair’s fair.” He punctuated that word with a harder thrust, pushing his cock past the initial resistance of your entrance. Your eye widened, a sound of surprise practically punched out of your body with the shock of it. His fingers had not at all prepared you for what it would feel like. The insistence. The weight. Buggy smiled, watching your face as his hips rolled forward. 

This time, you whined, squeezing your eye shut and digging your fingers into his back, your pussy unintentionally tightening around him which only made the discomfort that much worse, but you couldn’t force your body to relax and you honestly didn’t know if you were trying to push him out or pull him deeper.

“No, look—look at me,” Buggy demanded hoarsely, hiking your right leg back up his waist, not moving until you met his demand. You let out a shuddering breath and opened your eye, looking up at him through tear coated lashes. His eyes were familiar to you, but not like this. In the dim light, all that remained was their devious sparkle, his hunger, his all-consuming lust. You tried to keep your expression composed, to hide your embarrassing reactions, but it was all in vain. The leverage made it easier for him to rock his hips forward, his cock driving deeper, and your expression crumpled as you cried out, you couldn’t help yourself. 

The intimacy Buggy demanded of you while splitting you apart became intolerable. You tried to rear back, your back arching beneath him, but Buggy grabbed your jaw to keep you from looking away, to keep you from hiding. You tried to tell him that it was too much, too heavy, too big, too overwhelming, but you couldn’t find the words before he was already thrusting forward again, filling you more and more, his entire body covering yours, his eyes devouring your reactions. He watched with parted lips, his eyebrows raised in some sort of needful appeal. It felt so cruel, but Buggy didn’t look at you cruelly.

It was too much to bear, let alone understand. Giving up on begging him to slow down, you tried to push at his abdomen. Buggy wasn't bothered by it, or by the scrape of your nails along his back, it was like he didn’t even notice.

“Cap-tain,” you whined, the word broken in your mouth, squished from the grip he had on your jaw. When he moved, you could feel how you were shaking beneath him, around him, your heartbeat thumping hot blood between your legs. The pressure was intense, unfamiliar. You whimpered, your back restlessly arching, your free hand clawing at his shoulder. “I… It's… Too much…”

“Yeah?” Buggy asked, managing a smile before that became another moan. “You’re so fuckin’... Fuck.” 

It was impossible to not respond to the overt sound of his pleasure, your pussy clenching around him, soaking his cock. It sounded filthy. You opened your mouth to say something and, like he’d been waiting for it, Buggy released your jaw, his hand resting beneath your chin to push your face up so he could kiss you instead. His tongue in your mouth was just as invasive as his cock in your pussy, it felt more like he was trying to eat you, to devour you, leaving you no space to breathe or think or react. You could feel every grunt and groan, feel the way he reacted to every little sound you made. 

There was no refinement to it, no mercy, no thought given to anything other than animal instinct and need. Buggy was barely even pulling out, grinding himself into you as deep as possible over and over and over and it was maddening because he wasn’t slamming his cock into you the way he had with his fingers and that should have been easier to take, but there was no release, just more and again. 

When he pulled away from the kiss, giving you a few moments to catch your breath, you threw your head back to keep him from kissing you again, worried that you’d pass out from the lack of air. Buggy groaned in irritation, punishing you with a hard thrust. And then another, and another. Skin slapping and squelching and your confused yelps of pleasure or pain.

“I-I—I can’t, I…” Your nails dug into his back, his shoulders, not to make him stop or even slow down, but because you had no other way to express what you felt. “Too much, i’ss—”

Buggy grunted, grabbing your legs again to pull them back up, changing the angle. The surprise zip of pleasure struck hard, making you moan loudly and openly, your wide eye meeting his. Buggy’s lips twitched almost like a smile, a little look of victory at getting such an unabashedly slutty reaction from you. You couldn’t take it back, and he knew he had an advantage, exploiting it with every thrust. 

“Come on,” Buggy said, his voice labored and heavy. “Admit it… You love this. You wanted me to fuck you from… from the day we met. You’re a freak.”

“Captain… Buggy please,” you begged, whining his name desperately in a voice that sounded so unlike your own. None of you really felt familiar, not your voice or your body or the sensations. Maybe it was someone else and you were only along for the ride, that would explain why you lacked any and all control over your body, why you could feel the torturous build of pleasure in your core in spite of the discomfort or fear or uncertainty, why you had been driven to true delirium from the way his cock ground against your walls like his fingers had, another point of excess stimulation on top of the overwhelming fullness. You could feel your pussy squeeze around him, feel the fresh wave of slick arousal that coated his cock, spilling out around the seams. You had no control, there was nothing for you to do but hang on and accept what had become helplessness in its purest form.

Buggy laughed, a hoarse, mean sound that stuttered with each thrust before leveling into a moan. You couldn’t help but whimper in turn, your hips moving to meet each rocking thrust, your thighs trembling with how hard they were clamped around his waist. If you let go, you worried that you’d never stop falling, that you would be lost because there was nothing else. 

“Buggy,” you whined. “Buggy, I…”

He groaned low, grabbing your hand to hold it with your fingers entwined, pinning it by your head. By now you were chest to chest, both of you sweaty enough to be slick, your breathing dangerously unsteady, lungs puffing the sweltering air. He was kissing you, but every part of your functional mind that still worked was focused on coming. Buggy didn’t seem to mind your preoccupation, content to kiss your open mouth, content to swallow all of your moans. You didn’t think it was physically possible to be closer to another human being, you could feel his heart beating within your own heavy ribcage, feel the rush of his blood through your veins. There was nothing left of you without him.

So, then, you couldn’t do anything else, there was no choice, just that anxious need, some wild feeling that you’d scream if you couldn’t come. After teetering so close for a frightening few seconds, that was the thought that tipped you over the edge, your body tensing and seizing beneath him, disturbing your synchronization as your pussy spasmed around him, your hands holding onto his back in a death grip, pleasure rippling through you, stoked over and over again by the relentless weight of his cock. When you were done whimpering and whining and writhing your way through your orgasm, your body going limp beneath him, Buggy released you from the kiss. You saw a thick strand of saliva pop between you as he pulled away. 

“Did you just… come?” he asked breathlessly, incredulously.

You nodded, gasping for air, your glassy eye swirling with moving colors, your hazy mind unable to focus on anything while he was still inside you. 

“Guess that answers that question then,” Buggy muttered. Laughing as he began fucking you again, laughing and then moaning, his thrusts less targeted and more indulgent. All he had to do was get his hand on your jaw to remind you to look at his eyes. It made you choke, whimpering as the wake of your orgasm faded into overstimulation all over again. The intensity of too much combined with the trembling pleasure-pain, all of it twisted and hazy red, a world filtered and scattered, intangibly delicious but also anxious and frightening. 

Buggy fucked into you selfishly now, his hands digging bruises into your thighs, his thrusts jarringly rough and without any rhythm you understood. But the sounds he made, you liked those. They were almost pained, rising in pitch as he got closer. Lustful appetite in its most crude and feverish form. 

“Buggy,” you whined, scrambling to hold onto him, to mitigate the violence of his desire. “Buggy, please-” 

He moaned loudly, crushing you, claiming you with his open mouth on yours, all teeth and tongue and hunger. Using you, sparing you no soft affection when he came, burying his cock as deep as possible for those final few sporadic thrusts. 

You thought you could feel it, feel his cock twitch inside of you, but maybe it was just your imagination. How could you feel anything other than the steady throbbing between your legs? 

Buggy groaned, breathing hard. A second later, he pulled out and flopping onto his back beside you, either missing or ignoring your wince of pain. You covered your face with your hands, willing the world to fall away. You couldn’t understand it anyway, what was the point?

“I was thinking of a more appropriate title for your job,” Buggy said between ragged breaths. “I get worried that-that people might expect too much from you. So I was thinking something like Buggy the Clown’s Cocksleeve or—or the Flashy Fool’s Fucktoy. But just now, it came to me-” He snapped his fingers. “Captain Buggy’s Cock Puppet.” He turned his head to look at you, grinning. “Eh?” 

A hard shiver worked down your spine. “That’s gross,” you muttered.

He huffed, annoyed by your answer. “It’s pretty bold to act like a prude when you were creaming all over my dick a couple minutes ago.”

You groaned, covering your face again. 

“We’ll work on that,” Buggy said, sitting up. You opened your eye, watching him roll his neck and arms, his shoulders popping. His hair was a mess, a lot of it had come loose, he had to fight against the hair tie to get it out, swearing at it before the thing snapped and he threw it somewhere to the side. You were too sleepy and dazed to care that you were staring at him, admiring him. You did admire him, even if he said things you wished he wouldn’t, or did things you didn’t like. You admired him as your captain. And he was beautiful. 

Buggy rolled off the bed. He wore his nudity without a shred of shame. You watched as he poured himself a big cup of water from the jug, downing it all in a steady stream of gulps.  

“Thirsty?” he asked, shooting you a look over his shoulder. 

You pushed your hair off of your sweaty face, the world spinning spectacularly as you sat up, and nodded. He filled the cup again as you crawled to the edge of the bed, wincing at the sharp pain between your legs, the wet mess coating your thighs.

“Drink up, you were leaking pretty bad from both ends tonight,” Buggy joked as he helped hold the cup steady in your shaking hands. You hummed, not really caring about his words because the water was the best thing you had ever tasted in your entire life, and it felt even better on your dry tongue and throat. He took it when you were done and you wiped your mouth, an anxious question forming in your mind. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to leave or not.

But you weren’t sure if you could move, either. Maybe you would just stay there forever. That didn’t sound too bad.  

Buggy turned off the lights and threw himself onto the bed, uncaring that he was lying in the mess the two of you had made or that he was sweaty and grimy.

“What are you doing?” he asked. 

What were you doing? Why were you here? What had you done? “I… um-”

“Yeah, I don’t actually care,” Buggy said through a yawn. “It’s been a long day and I’m wiped. Get up here.”

It took a moment for you to follow the simple order, but you managed to crawl up the bed. Rather than suffer your nervous attempts to find a spot that wouldn’t disturb him, Buggy grabbed you, pulling you against him like a child with a toy. He was hot and sweaty and the amount of weight he put on you wasn’t exactly comfortable, but you didn’t dare move—you didn’t want to move. His skin smelled like greasepaint and musk and sweat and gunpowder and leather and you drank it in, accepting your discomfort because it was Buggy. 

In the swampish dark left behind in the red heat of passion, and especially in his arms, you thought about the affection you felt when you looked at him. It was only natural that you would love Buggy. Not as a lover, but as anybody would love their captain. To serve him as you had sworn, your love had to be absolute. But then you wondered what he felt for you. It would be too much and much too soon to ask for love, but surely there was something. 

You, with a shocking amount of clarity given the fogged state of your mind, decided that you would ask him and accept whatever answer he gave. Emboldened by that resolution, you looked at him. 

Buggy was already asleep.

#opla buggy #opla buggy x reader #buggy x reader #one piece live action #buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #my writing #flashbang #tw.dubcon #not sfw

[savorypink]

WHAT ABOUT COWBOY!AL EATING YOU OUT?!?!!??! I THINK WE SHOULD TALK ABOUT IT

what about it? 🤨

the gentle tapping of rain against the windows of your trailer dizzies your head with sleep, one droplet aiding the next in creating a unique lullaby exclusively for your ears. your vision blurs as sleep wraps you in its warm embrace, the candle's dancing flame on your nightstand taking the shape of a twinkling star.

his large hands glide across the skin of your freshly lotioned legs before his hungry tongue plunges back into your core. your jaw falls slack against the pillow resting on the side of your head, and your vocal cords fail to eject the slightest noise, but your body can get the message across clearly.

your hips push back against his warm tongue, and the wet organ dwells deeper into your heat, his tongue twirling and curling along your moist walls. his tongue leaves your core so his mouth can close around your core, both vacuuming your juices and lapping at your clit in wild circles and zig-zags. you curl your toes painfully inward and tightly grip the pillowcase as his delicate hands caress your ass, spreading you wider while gently kneading the soft flesh.

drool dampens your pillow as you desperately rock your hips against his eager mouth, the coarse hairs of his goatee burning the skin surrounding your core, but your movements persist, a tightness beginning to form in your lower belly. his cock ruts against the bed as his mouth continues its blissful assault on your aching bits, staining your beloved floral sheets with blotches pre-cum, a hearty groan sending shockwaves through your body and core.

your core collapses around his tongue as you allow the tight knot in your stomach to come undone, a soft moan falling out of your parched lips. gentle pants fill the air, and then silence shrouds the trailer as you fall into the arms of sleep, the wet removal of alex's mouth being the final noise you hear. wet lips kiss tenderly along your back and shoulders and then stop to kiss your scalp before pulling the duvet over your goosebump-riddled skin and blowing out the candle on your bedside table.

#mickey mail #blurbs! #i think we should write more abt getting eaten from the back. idk!

[girl-next-door-writes]

Because

Characters: Eddie Munson x reader

Summary:  When Eddie spots a familiar face in the crowd of a concert, he can’t help but feel it’s a sign.

Word Count: 1116 word

Prompt: Flirting then realising feelings have been caught. Tugging you closer by your waist. Intermission at a show. “You’re so cute, you know that?”

A/N: This is the seventh of my Build-A-Festive-Fics so thank you to the lovely anon who put these prompts together for my first request for my favourite metalhead.

*****************************************************************

The air puled with anticipation as the crowd converged in front of the stage. The hum of excitement, clinking of chains and other metal accessories were momentarily drowned out by the roar of guitar riffs and insane vocals of the warm-up act. The walls reverberated with the promise of a night filled with raw energy and intense music.

The scent of leather and sweat was heady in the sea of black t-shirts, which seemed to be the unofficial uniform of the band’s fans. The elaborate arrangement of speakers, amplifiers and drum kits littered the stage, creating an altar for the adoring metalheads to worship at. The stage lights cast an otherworldly glow, creating an atmosphere that was both electrifying and mysterious, an effect enhanced by the overuse of smoke machines and somewhat in contrast to the festive decorations strewn about the venue.  

As the lights dim, a surge of adrenaline courses through the crowd. The murmurs evolve into roars of excitement as the band takes the stage, greeted by a sea of raised devil horns and the rhythmic pounding of fists against chests. The first strike of the drum sends shockwaves through the place, signaling the beginning of an auditory assault.

The mosh pit swiftly became a chaotic ballet of bodies. Fans colliding and swirling in a whirlwind of limbs, guided by the primal rhythm of the music. Those on the periphery headbang with fervor as strobe lights flashed and the occasional burst of pyrotechnics punctuated the sonic landscape.

Amid the chaos and the cacophony, Eddie caught sight of someone he wasn’t expecting to cross paths with at a place like this. A smile tugged at his lips as he continued to bounce with the music, his eyes now firmly following your movements, rather than focusing on the stage.

As the final notes of a particularly exuberant version of Rudolph reverberated through the venue, there was a collective pause, a moment of shared exhaustion and exhilaration. The crowd, now hoarse from singing along and bodies weary from the frenzy, erupts into cheers and applause.

“We’re gonna take a break, but we’ll be back in twenty!” One of the band members yelled into the microphone to be heard, and the crowd seemed to move as one, now swelling towards the nearest bar.

Eddie's grin widened as he navigated the sea of concertgoers to stand beside you. The pulsating energy of the music still lingered in the air as he leaned in to be heard over the din.

"Couldn't resist the call of the metal, could you?" Eddie teased, his eyes sparkling with a mix of excitement and genuine happiness at finding you in the midst of the crowd.

You laughed, the shared experience of the concert already creating a bond between you. "Well, it's not every day you get the chance to hear these guys."

His hand came to rest on your waist, it felt warm and reassuring amidst the chaotic surroundings. "Guess you’re just drawn to good music and even better company," he replied, his playful smirk softened by a hint of sincerity.

As the crowd continued to disperse toward the bar and other corners of the venue during the intermission, Eddie led you to a quieter spot near the edge of the room. The distant murmur of the band preparing for the next set provided a temporary reprieve, allowing the two of you to catch your breath.

"So, what brings you to this metal mayhem tonight?" Eddie asked, his gaze fixed on yours, hoping that you weren’t on a date and that some big butch bloke was about to appear with a drink for you and a disapproving look for him.

You shrugged, enjoying the slight flirtatious edge to Eddie’s tone. "Just felt like losing myself in the music for a while. And hey, it looks like I'm not the only one."

Eddie chuckled, his fingers idly tracing small circles on your waist. "Well, lucky for me, I found someone worth losing myself with."

The compliment hung in the air, and a subtle warmth crept into your cheeks. “That was quite smooth, for you, Munson.”

He clutched his chest, as if wounded by your words, and action which elicited a peal of laughter from you that made his heart race.

This was the dance the two of you had been doing for a while now, him flirting outrageously with you and you finding his theatrics amusing while failing to see the sincerity. Somewhere in the middle of him just trying to make you laugh, Eddie realised he actually really liked you, liked being the reason for your smile, liked that you didn’t pull away from him when he touched you.

"You've got a strange sense of humor, you know that?" you teased, a playful glint still present in your gaze.

Eddie smirked, not missing a beat. "Strange? I think you mean irresistible."

As your laughter rang out once again, Eddie's lips curved into a genuine smile as he just looked at you. For a moment, the flirtatious banter ceased. The air between you held a newfound tension, not born out of jest but out of the unspoken truth that had started to weave its way through your interaction. The line between playful banter and genuine affection had blurred, and Eddie found himself genuinely captivated by you.

As he looked into your eyes, Eddie felt a shift in the dynamics of your interaction. The touch on your waist, once a playful gesture, now held a hint of tenderness. He didn't want to be just the reason for your laughter; he wanted to be the reason your heart raced, the reason you felt a connection that went beyond the lighthearted banter.

The moment was broken as the crowd seemed to swell back towards the stage, a rather large guy bumping you, causing you to stumble. Your hands came to rest on Eddie’s chest as his rested on your waist, trying to steady you.

“You’re so cute, you know that?” He murmured, almost to himself as his eyes met yours.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Munson.” You hummed, making no attempt to move.

A mischievous grin pulled at his lips, and he tugged you closer, chuckling to himself as he saw your eyes widen in surprise at his move. “Figured I’d keep you close, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want you to get trampled in the mosh pit.”

“Yeah, sure, has absolutely nothing to do with just wanting to keep me close.”

“Can’t it be both?” He grinned, dragging you back into the crowd, ready for the music to take hold again, hoping he could work up the courage to cross that line from playful flirting to something a little more.

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x reader #build a festive fic #gndw fic