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httpwintersoldier · 5 months

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『 think I need someone older. || buggy x reader 』

pairing: buggy x f!reader words: there's many words in here alright! like, many summary: who would've thought that the best thing you'd get out of your relationship would be the guy after it. angst; smut; fluff. ᴄᴡ: ᴛᴏxɪᴄ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ ; ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴀᴅᴠᴀɴᴄᴇꜱ

"Come on, let's go!"

Buggy stared with an intense look, from the corner of the room, as this drunk looking guy grabbed your arm and dragged you across the bar.

"Stop! Let me go! I haven't finished my shift!"

The man's grip tightened on you and he pulled you close, your noses almost touching from the proximity.

"I told you I don't want you working! Much less in a fucking bar! What, you like all these men looking at you!?"

Your boyfriend spat those words at your through gritted teeth, and you swore his iris shrunk in size giving his eyes more space to express their hatred at disgust towards you.

"Not my circus, not my monkeys. Not my circus, not my monkeys. Not my circus..." Buggy repeated the quote in his head like a mantra as he sipped his beer, reminding himself that the extraneous relationship was none of his business.

And usually he would not mind, other people's predicaments were none of his concern and he didn't care to make them his concern, but you were different.

The Captain had only seen you working at the bar a couple of times and he had found you... pathetic. Smiling at the customers, apologising, actually doing your best and being polite. That showed weakness. You were weak. Weak, and innocent, and pathetic, and someone who would never survive in this world. And for that he wanted you.

Buggy refused to put two and two together, he refused to accept that for once there was someone he wanted to protect instead of hurt - because that would mean that he would have a weakness: you.

It was only when you showed him kindness and respect instead of fear and disgust that the Captain began somewhat welcoming the idea of you.

It had been a terrible day - the crew was hungover and some punks took the chance to ransack the ship - and Buggy just needed a drink. He sat alone on the corner and some pesky, useless waitress set the wrong drink in front of him.

"I should have you killed for your incompetence!" He had dramatically yelled at you.

Instead of pleas or more yelling, his threat was met with a question.

"Why?"

It instantly calmed him down, he had never been questioned on his threats... Sure they had been laughed at, they had been feared... But never questioned.

"Does this look like my order!?" Buggy said, a lot calmer but still showing annoyance as he didn't want you to think you somehow had the power to take away his rage.

"Can't I just replace it, Sir? I can make it on the house if you'd like!"

Buggy left after that, without another word. It effectively made you think that he now hated you and your service, but the fact was his heart beat faster. His heart beat in a way that had only beat before when he was fighting or torturing someone, and the Captain had to sit alone and wonder what it meant - and how he could shoo it away. No one had ever been able to calm him down, let alone make him feel bad for the tone he had used - until you waltzed in the Captains' life with your pretty smile and tight fabrics.

He sat on that same corner that day watching that man mistreat you in front of everyone. The look on your face was one Buggy did not recognize - he was half certain you were incapable of portraying negative emotions, but now it seemed like all of them were flowing through you.

"I-I wanted to get money t-to help you buy that ship you wanted! For your birthday, baby!" You lied, trying to stop your body from shaking.

You wanted some financial independence from that man, you wanted to be able to buy stuff for yourself without having to go by your partner first, or without having to get his approval because "it was his money after all", but you figured a lie would be best.

After that, the man roughly let go of your arm, but your faces remained at the same distance.

"We will discuss your schedules at home." He said in a threatening, low tone and promptly left the bar.

You looked around - the place was never calm, except when there was gossip and drama to pay attention to. Your eyes scanned the room and you laughed nervously.

"It's alright fellas! Apologies for disturbing your night I will get you all a round on the house!"

Cheers echoed the room and it went back to the rowdy environment you knew as you tried your best to excuse yourself to the back where you could breathe.

You left through the door and slid down the brick wall of the alleyway where the staff took their smoke breaks, thanking the gods that it was vacant. Your thighs hit the cold stone floor but you didn't care - at least you could breathe. It felt like there was a boulder on your chest that prevented you the air to leave your lungs and chemicals in your eyes that prevented you from crying up until that point.

The sound heavy boots smacking against the stone echoed in the air, getting closer and closer to you. You assumed it was your manager, and you didn't want to get fired but you couldn't get back inside just yet.

"Sorry, Sir... I will go back in in just a minute." You said, voice muffled from your head being buried in your arms.

Buggy wasn't sure what to say, - he wasn't good at comforting people, not at all - so he just stood there, looking down at you, as if the space around him would freeze to give him enough time to think of the appropriate reply.

When you obtained no reply, you got worried - was you boss that mad that he wouldn't even dignify you with a response?...

You slowly peeled your head from your arms and looked up at the person in front of you, to find the somber clown that sat on the corner of the bar every other day. You immediately stood up and violently wiped the tears from your cheeks and the dirt from your skirt as you tried your best to look presentable.

Buggy's looks towards you were always a mix of very intense emotions that you couldn't decipher, but now they were a lot softer, almost as if he felt sad for you - and honestly you much preferred angst to pity.

The Captain softly grabbed your arm, stopping it from rubbing your skin so violently and potentially damaging something so beautiful.

"I-I'm sorry I will go back in now I didn't mean to disturb the service please let me offer you-"

Your frantic, apologetic rant was cut short by Buggy's voice.

"Why are you with him?"

Your eyes, that previously wandered everywhere but his face, found his gaze.

"Him? Him who? My... boyfriend?"

Buggy just nodded, searching your face for all of the emotions he could gather - they were all negative, and those he was good at.

"I love him." You said dryly, not one ounce of emotion laced in your words.

"You don't. You fear him. People who are feared are not loved, I should know..." The Captain said the last part under a deep inhale.

You were left silent. You were angry and in disbelief that this man that didn't even know you had the gall to make such serious accusations about you and your relationship.

But he was right. And now you knew how painfully obvious it was.

At some point you did love him - your boyfriend would bring you flowers every other week, he would write often, expressing his love, when he needed to sail for work, he would cook intricate dinners and fill the bedroom with roses and gifts in every special date you shared... But once he knew he had you, the man changed completely - a tale as old as time. And your boyfriend knew you held onto the hopes and memories of the past and used it against you, pretending to be the caring man he once was from time to time to keep you around.

"So? Why are you with him?" The Captain asked once more upon being faced with your silence, slowly stepping closer.

You opened your mouth to say something, hoping your brain could scramble together an excuse for being with that man that didn't sound as pathetic as just "nostalgia".

Before you could speak, Buggy placed his index finger on your chin and tilted your head up so you could look into his beautiful, big green eyes. They were hypnotizing, really.

"Exactly." He whispered "There is no reason. So let me take you away."

You widened your eyes.

"Take me away!? Where would you even take me?..."

Buggy chuckled, approaching his face to yours.

"Anywhere, everywhere..." He whispered.

Your face grew hot and the atmosphere around you became tense, this time a completely different feeling filling the air.

"But... why? I thought you disliked me. You know, because of that day... I feel like you've been giving me the stink eye from that corner you sit on ever since."

Buggy let out a short laugh as he took his time to examine every pretty little detail of your face up close.

"Dislike you? I'm crazy about you. The way your fetching eyes twinkle when you smile, the way you sing when you wipe down the bar, the way your dresses fit you..."

Buggy allowed the hand that wasn't on your chin to trail up your body, still remaining far from any places he shouldn't (but wanted to) touch, as his eyes stole a look at your slightly exposed chest.

You were speechless. You hadn't heard someone talk about you with such admiration and love in a long time, but alas, the last time you believed it it lead you to the nightmare you lived in currently.

As you were reminded of such a fact, your eyes filled with tears once more and you stepped back, away from his touch.

"He used to tell me those things too... I've heard all of it. I'm sorry I-I can't trust this act a-and I need to go back to work."

Buggy stayed in his place, not wanting to scare you more than you already were or ruin any potential chance he might've had by being too insistant. In a last effort, he called your name, just as your hand met the cold metal of the door's handle, and you stopped.

"Y/N. You're dating a manchild, he doesn't know what to do with a good woman like you because he's a boy." Upon seeing he had piqued your interest, the Captain stepped closer and leaned to whisper in your ear from behind "Let me show you how a man is supposed to treat a woman such as yourself."

Your heart was thumping in a way you had never felt before, and althought you opened the door and ran inside to stop Buggy from seeing your blush, he knew.

He chuckled, left the alleyway and walked to his ship, letting the proposal sit on your mind.

Unbeknownst to your boyfriend (and to you), that night was crucial. The events of that night would heavily determine if you'd take the Captain up on his offer or not, even if you didn't know it at the time.

Once your shift ended you bid goodbye to the old man that owned the bar and made your way home, hands in the pockets of your heavy coat and smoke coming out of your mouth with every breath from the cold night air.

"Hey!" You greeted once you closed the door of your home.

You removed your coat and put on the best fake smile you could muster as you ealked over to your boyfriend whom sat on the dinner table drinking some sort of ale that he had brought from work.

"Good news honey!" The man said, standing up and wrapping his arms around your waist.

"What is it?" You asked with hope in your voice that, for once, the good news would benefit you as well.

"The man who handles the money down at the bar you work for is an old pal of mine, I talked to him and he can send the money directly to our house so I can keep it safe! So no need to wait for it on pay day anymore, I can just put it directly towards my ship like we wanted!"

Your boyfriend kept talking, but you had stopped listening halfway through. Your heart was beating way too fast for you to focus, and the ringing in your ears became too loud for you to hear.

He decided what you did, what you bought, what you wore, where you went... The smallest, tiniest bit of freedom you had was taken away. Everything was taken away.

There was no escape. Anywhere you went, anything you did... no escape.

Except... the Captain. He had offered you an escape. The clown had practically opened the door to freedom for you.

Or maybe not, maybe you'd just be walking into a different type of captivity, but something in your head and in your heart told you Captain Buggy was different. Maybe it was the sweet words or the twinkle in his eyes that were shining with something other than the possessiveness you had always been used to, something like care, or admiration even.

You placed your hands in your boyfriend's chest, slowly peeling yourself away from the hold he had on you as the fake smile faded into visible panic and anxiety. You had to make a decision, and you had to make it fast.

Before your head could process anything and before your mouth could protest his decision, your body turned to the door and your legs started running.

You didn't even know what Captain Buggy's ship looked like, you just ran to the docks in hopes that it would somehow work out for you.

As expected, the man you once loved ran after you, screaming, cursing and threatening all the way to the docks.

You had a considerable distance from him, and, thankfully, Buggy's flags with red-nosed skull made it easy for you to find the ship - although it wasn't needed.

When you looked behind you to make sure you kept said distance from your (ex-)boyfriend, you bumped into someone. The person didn't let you fall, however - he wrapped an arm around your waist, keeping you as steady as possible.

"Get your fucking hands off her, clown!" Your boyfriend said in a tone that made it seem like he was frothing at the mouth - he might as well have been.

When you looked up to identify your saviour, you smiled in relief to find Buggy, tears welling in your eyes from the previous anxiety and panic that finally dawned on you. His piercing green eyes stared at your boyfriend menacingly, and had you not known how much the man wanted you, you too would have been scared of the expression painted on his face.

"Watch your tone, boy, and then leave." The Captain warned.

"I won't watch-"

Buggy didn't allow your partner to finish the sentence, he detached the hand that didn't hold onto you and wrapped it around the other man's neck, throwing him against a wall with enough strenght to knock him out.

As the hand came back to its place, Buggy looked down at you adoringly.

"I take it you accept my proposal, princess?"

You tried to bite back the smile, but to no avail.

"I do accept it. But!" Buggy leaned down ever so slightly, showing the most interest in whatever condition you had decided to set "If you ever scream at me I will leave you."

Buggy's smile stretched wide, and he pressed kisses all over your face.

"Oh my dear princess, my beautiful, beautiful treasure... If I ever so much as annoy you feel free to shoot me dead."

You grinned and slapped his chest.

"Don't be dramatic!" You said and giggled, unable to contain how giddy he made you, how he made you feel a way you hadn't ever felt, not even at the peak of your ex-boyfriend's supposed love.

You yelped and wrapped your arms around Buggy's neck as he picked you up bridal style to take you to his ship.

Some wolf whistles were heard as he walked through the ship carrying you, forcing you to hide your face in the crook of his neck out of embarrassment, but they were quickly shut up by the stern, disapproving look on the Captain's face.

You lifted your head and opened your eyes when he placed you down on the creaky wooden floor. You looked around to find a somewhat messy and dark room. There was a single, not-so-spacious bed that was unmade against the wall in front of you and under the porthole of the room, an old, tall dresser and a big desk with papers (that you assumed were maps) and random jewelry scattered across it were to your left and to your right was an worn out couch with questionable stains. A pair of boots as well as various items of clothing were by the corner of the room.

Buggy hissed and placed his hands on his hips as he looked around the mess in his bedroom.

"Yeah... I didn't acutally expect any company..." The Captain said, obvious embarrassment in his voice.

You giggled and picked up some of the clothes forgotten in the corner of the room.

"That's okay, I'm a little messy sometimes!" You tried your best to make him feel more comfortable about the state of his room as you folded his clothes.

"No, no, no! What are you doing? Don't trouble yourself!" Buggy panicked, holding your hands to stop you from doing any housework.

"Just trying to help you out a little! You know, as a thank you..." Your voice got a little shaky as the memory of the wave of emotions that had overcome you just minutes ago hit once more.

"A thank you for what? My own crew gives me a harder time than that little... sample of a man. He's a weak man, it was no trouble." The Captain assured, basically pleading you to lay down and rest.

You couldn't help but smile, a victorious smile, more than anything. Your now ex-boyfriend was prideful in his strenght and (supposed) fighting skill, no one really fought him, and when they did he'd unfortunately come out on top most times, but to hear Buggy speak of him in such a way and describe him as if he were but an annoying fly waiting to be swatted... it felt like victory. Imagining him pathetically limping back home and wallowing in his own self pity was nothing short of a dream come true.

"A thank you for rescuing me, Captain."

Buggy thought he was feeling sick, from the way his heart beat and his face heat up. He couldn't speak or think straight, for a second he thought it was a stroke or something of the sort.

The man stood in the same place, watching you fold his clothes neatly and fluff the pillows of the couch before moving to (try to) help you. He did his best to organize all the maps in the desk as he pushed the jewelry into a drawer with a detached foot.

By the time he had properly rolled up the maps and put them in their proper place, you had already finished the remaining parts of the room.

"You did well! That looks good!" You said, walking up behind him.

Buggy felt a strange wave of pride hit him. Like no other accomplishment he had previously achieved mattered, because this was the only one the Captain had complimented you on. The man did his best to wipe the stupid smile off of his face but there was no hiding how obsessed he was with you and everything you did.

Your tired yawn snapped him out of his trance, and his big green eyes looked at you in worry.

"Are you tired? You must be tired... Just..." Buggy walked to over to the dresser and took a big, warm blanket from it, handing it to you "Take the bed, you should get some sleep."

You held the thick blanket in your arms as you saw the man try his best to fluff the pillows and make the bed comfortable for you. You didn't know how to react to this much care and attention, you felt undeserving of it.

"Y/N? Shit, are you okay? Did I go overboard? Did I do too much!?" You didn't realize how fast you were breathing until Buggy brought it to your attention, and before long there were two panicked people in the room not knowing what to do for two completely different reasons.

The clown had never liked someone as much as he liked you, and you had never had anyone like you as much as he did. It was comical, really, although at the time it didn't feel like it, it was just the purest image of two fools falling in love.

"I-I don't want you to be uncomfortable because of me, that is all- I can take the floor." You said, trying to stabilize your voice as much as possible.

"Oh princess, I've been thrown around by people my whole life, I've gotten pieces of me stuck in boxes and I've been used as a punching bag, sleeping in the couch instead of the bed is no trouble at all... I didn't bring you to my ship just to have you sleep on the floor, that is an absolute no." The Captain said with a small smile, carefully cupping your cheek.

He could tell from your face that you weren't satisfied with the solution, even if the man guaranteed you he'd be comfortable.

"What if... we share the bed? If you don't mind..." You suggested, unable to look him in the eye.

Buggy's body tensed and heat up at the thought of the both of you pressed up against each other in the small bed, and he tried his very best to not seem like a creepy pervert, but the thoughts in his head seemed to have other plans.

"Uh sure... Yeah, that works." He blurted out, like an awkward teenager trying to seem cool and uninterested after a long silence.

You loosened your corset and set it neatly next to your shoes, as you removed the hairband that tried its best to keep your hair in place during your shifts at the bar.

Buggy turned his back to you, feeling like he was somehow invading your privacy even though you hadn't asked him to look away.

The man removed his jacket, boots and belt as well, trying to get more comfortable. Usually both you and him would sleep in less clothing, but for the sake of decency and modesty (which Buggy had apparently adhered to exclusively for you) you decided against it.

When you turned around, Buggy was removing his bandana, and your eyes widened as his blue hair extended down to his lower back.

"Woah..."

Buggy turned around to face you, confused, as you softly grabbed a strand of his hair.

Once he saw your eyes shining as you looked at his long blue locks he smiled - a mix of confidence about his hair, and shyness about the way you looked at him.

"You like it? I kinda forget people don't really know how long my hair is."

"It's beautiful..." Your voice was soft as you ran your hand along his (surprisingly) soft and shiny hair, almost as if you were afraid to scare him away.

"Not nearly as beautiful as you. Not even close. Nothing has even been or will ever be as beautiful as you are." The words were caught in Buggy's throat, more than anything, he was afraid that his feelings and constant thoughts of your alluringness would scare your off, so those words were replaced by the suggestion of going to sleep.

Buggy let you lay first, closer to the wall so you wouldn't fall off the bed if you happened to move as you slept. The Captain then laid next to you, very happy about the lack of space the bed offered.

You both had to lay on your side, your back pressed against his chest. You'd be lying if you said you'd disliked the proximity - his body was warm and you felt protected as his toned chest heaved up and down against you and his muscly arm draped mindlessly over your waist.

You didn't want to move, but your leg became numb after some time. You shifted in your place slightly to make it more comfortable, only to feel a strong hand grip your hips in place almost instantly.

"Careful." Buggy's low and raspy voice whispered, almost as if warning you about some danger.

And there was a danger indeed. Having your body so close to his was torture enough, but if you so much as shifted in place you'd be rubbing yourself against him - and the clown wasn't sure how far this newfound restraint could go.

"Sorry..." You apologised, thinking your movements had woken him up.

"Don't be..." He mumbled and buried his face in the crook of your neck, taking in your perfume.

Weeks went by from that day, and the two of you got to know each other intimately, but Buggy was hard to read. There were times where it seemed you were the light of his day and the reason for him to breathe, but there were others where your image seemed to be the Captain's worst nightmare.

It all came to a climax on a day where Buggy was having a particular hard time coming face to face with his feelings.

"Buggy!? What is wrong with you!?"

"Stop fucking following me around!"

You didn't understand the sudden shift in behaviour, but quite honestly neither did he.

The Captain was obviously not used to having feelings, nevermind dealing with them. He didn't know what to do or how to behave, all he knew was that he wanted you in an obsessive, animalistic way. Everything Buggy did, every step he took... You were on his mind. You were a constant. He couldn't stop thinking of your smile, of your voice, of your smell, of your body...

It was driving him insane, and most of all, it was driving him insane the fact that he didn't know what to do, so he just did what he knew how to do best: get angry and lash out.

Buggy was a master of self-sabotage, and as he yelled at you he knew very well that he was making a mistake, almost as if the real Captain was inside, screaming, banging and begging his body to stop betraying him, but he couldn't.

"Don't raise your voice at me!" You yelled with tears in your eyes.

"Or what!?" Buggy challenged, his voice raspy from yelling, as he finally turned around to face you.

His face showed anger and disgust, but his eyes conveyed a completely different message, one of sorrow and regret.

You looked at the desk next to the man, where his gun was. You grabbed it and, pulling the safety trigger, placed the barrel between his eyes.

"If I ever so much as annoy you, feel free to shoot me dead." You said, repeating Buggy's speech the night he had brought you to the ship "You're annoying me. You're making me angry, actually, which is arguably worse."

"Then shoot me."

If there was something you'd learned in your previous relationship, was to read emotions beyond words. You could see it in Buggy's eyes, it was obvious... He didn't mean what he was saying, he didn't mean to act this way. It didn't hurt any less to know he didn't mean it, but you at least wanted to know...

"Why?"

"Shoot me." Buggy repeated, his voice shaking every so slightly as your question had caused him to face everything he had been avoiding.

"Why." You asked once more, adamantly this time.

Buggy threw his hands up in frustration and groaned, taking a violent step closer to you.

"Because you're all I think about! Day and night, I can't stop thinking about you. There isn't a single thing that occupies my mind other than you. You are all that I've ever needed and all that I've ever wanted and you change me I-I'm different around you and I'm vulnerable and I'm scared!" The Captain was screaming like a madman getting tortured, fighting the side that wanted to shut you out and walk away and the side that wanted him to fall to his knees, beg for mercy and confess his love for you. He knew what he felt, even though he desperately tried to ignore it, but saying it out loud made it... real.

The gun made a loud sound that echoed in the room when you let it fall by your feet, so you could cup both his cheeks.

"Buggy... Why would you be scared? Have I done something to you that made you feel like you can't trust me?"

The man slowly wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close. He dipped his head, resting his forehead on your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around him tightly - you knew, after the short time you had spent together, that that was how he seeked some sort of comfort, Buggy turned into a little kid sometimes, that needed support and reassurance, and that was his way of asking for it.

"I don't want to leave you, Buggy, you've been good to me. But you can't treat me like this..."

"I'm... I'm sorry." His voice was shaky, a couple sobs here and there, and muffled from his head being buried in your shoulder "I trusted one person, once and he... betrayed me. And I didn't like him as much as I like you, not even close. I'm scared... Please don't leave me, I'm sorry for what I said, I'm sorry for yelling at you, I'm-"

You shut him up by lifting his head and giving him a kiss. It was simple and no longer than five seconds, but you'd both swear the world was spinning and fireworks were going off.

Buggy's big, green, teary eyes were staring at you when you pulled away. Once he processed what happened, the Captain grabbed your face and brought it close for another kiss. And then another, and another, and another - until he was out of breath from kissing and you were out of breath from giggling.

"I'm forgiven?" The man asked, still holding your face.

"You are forgiven, Buggy. I'd never, ever hurt you. And if I do, you can shoot me dead." You said, mimicking his speech.

He laughed and kissed you once more, a slower, deeper kiss.

"You're crazy, you know that?" Buggy asked, running his hand through your hair.

"We can be crazy together..." You replied, your eyes looking between his eyes and lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"That sounds like a plan I can get behind..." His voice trailed into a whisper as his head leaned to the side, the space between their lips slowly closing.

What started out as another innocent kiss gradually developed into a heated mess of tongues and saliva. Surprisingly, Buggy was very vocal, and there was no telling if it was the thigh between your legs or his needy whimpers that turned you on more, but you were sure feeling a different type of heat spread through your body.

You two pulled away from the kiss. His makeup was messy, some of it smeared on your face, his lips were red and plump from the biting and his hungry eyes searched your face.

"Please... can I fuck you?" His needy, whimpery and hushed voice nearly made your knees falter.

It was pathetic how he could ask you anything in that tone and you'd fall to your knees and you'd comply.

"Do it. Please do it Buggy, fuck me."

His hands trailed down to grip your ass with force, bringing your crotch to press against his. You felt his very hard cock press against you as he laughed in a raspy voice.

"Careful."

Those words were familiar... When you two slept together the first night... He wasn't angry you'd woken him up! He was warning you because he was horny.

You playfully traced his jawline with your nail.

"Do you worst." You whispered in his ear, teasing him.

Buggy pushed you to lay down on the bed. One of his knees pushed your legs open as his hand found your clothed pussy under your skirt. The Captain's lips paid attention to your neck as you slowly pulled his shirt up and over his head to claw at his back.

You were used to being the one doing all the work, so the amount of attention he gave you felt overwhelming - a very good type of overwhelming.

"Buggy- that feels good... So good..." You moaned.

Buggy chuckled as he kissed the red spots of skin on your neck he had kissed and sucked. His lips approached your ear and he softly bit your earlobe.

"I'm going to show you how a real man fucks."

The Captain's index finger hooked on the front of your panties and slowly brought them down. Two of his fingers ran along your exposed folds and his eyes widened. He brought them up to his face and separated them, showing you how they glistened with your juices.

"Already?" He paused and chuckled "I'm going to have fun."

Buggy placed his hands on your hips and flipped you two around, sitting you on his waist.

"Take it all off." The man said, gesturing to your clothes "And then sit on my face."

You had began to unbutton your blouse, but you stopped and blushed.

"I- I don't want to hurt you, maybe we could-"

You yelped as one of his hands came into contact with your ass harshly.

"I don't care if you suffocate me. Sit. On. My. Face."

You bit your lip and nodded, obeying his orders.

Buggy groaned and cursed under his breath as your pieces of clothing slowly came off one by one, and as your pussy hovered over his face, he swore he could've cum from the sight alone.

When you didn't fully lay your body weight on him, Buggy wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled your cunt down onto his face.

"Shit!" You shrieked and gripped his hair in your hands as your hips started moving along to the movements of his tongue.

"So this is what it's supposed to feel like-" You tought, too intoxicated in pleasure to blurt out anything that wasn't a moan.

Buggy's groans sent a different (yet very good) feeling through your body, and it only left you craving for more. You wanted him to keep going, but you wanted more, you needed more - as much as he could give you.

"More- please- I need more Buggy- I need you to fuck me." You begged between whimpers and sighs.

Buggy took his sweet time finishing his business, too pussy drunk to give it up immediately as you asked. Once he managed to peel himself away from between your legs, one of his strong arms wrapped around you and flipped you both.

His lips were quick to attatch to yours, and you could taste yourself in the Captain's tongue.

One of your hands cupped his face as the other worked on the zipper of his pants. Once you were able to slide your hand inside, you weren't surprised to find he was a fan of going commando.

Buggy pulled away and whined when you gripped his hard cock and swiped your thumb along the slit. His eyebrows were furrowed in pleasure and he was breathing hard.

"Do you want me to suck your cock, baby?" You asked, your voice dripping in fake innocence which caused him to chuckle.

Buggy kissed you softly.

"I'd love to princess, but I won't last. And I really want to fuck you."

"Then fuck me, Captain."

In one swift and quick move, Buggy placed the tip of his cock in your entrance and pushed inside of you, filling you up to the brim with his shaft.

His movements were smooth and proficient - it was almost as if his cock was made for you.

Your fingernails dug into Buggy's biceps, making him whine a little louder as his hips snapped against yours and his lips left small bites and open-mouth kisses wherever they could reach.

The Captain tried to be gentle with his touch, but he was so desperate for your body... it was nearly impossible. His fingers squeezed your sides, your ass and your thighs - he was in love with every curve of your body.

"You feel good... So good..." You admitted, breathlessly.

"Do I? Say my name."

"Buggy-" You moaned.

"Louder! I want them all to hear you."

"Buggy!" You yell-whimpered, as his cock hit a particular spot inside of you.

"That's right princess..." The clown bent over to bite your neck "This is what real cock feels like, from someone who knows how to fuck."

His whimpers and moans were sent straight to your pussy, who seemed to pulsate harder whenever his mouth hung open and the sinful sounds left past his lips.

Buggy seemed to read your mind: as you felt a nice feeling bubble up inside of you, one of his fingers sneaked between your bodies and rubbed your clit - a firm yet soft touch.

"I'm gonna need you to cum for me pretty, 'cause I can't last much longer with you squeezing me like that." Buggy confessed, looking down at his cock disappearing inside of you.

"Almost... I'm almost..." You breathlessly told him.

Buggy mantained his movements, working his hips and fingers until your back arched and your toes curled. The Captain had seen many places, many views and many people, but nothing came close to the beauty of your face when you climaxed, yelling his name.

The clown's mouth hung open, his brows furrowed and he moaned as he pulled out and came on your stomach, the hot cum splattering in different places.

"Guess I gotta clean up..." You said with a giggle.

Buggy looked up at you, with the mischiveous grin you'd learned to love and bent down. His tongue swiped across your abdomen, collecting every last drop of cum. He then pressed his lips against yours, dumping his cum into your mouth.

"There," The Captain said, stroking your red cheek "all cleaned up."

You could only giggle and press another kiss to his lips, as you shifted your positions so you could drape your leg over him and lay your head on his chest.

The two of you closed your eyes, his hand playing with your hair as you listened to his heartbeat.

"If you ever raise your voice at me again I will actually shoot you."

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mmm-asbestos · 6 days

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Commission for SuperSlimeStars on twitter!

#commissions #fantasy zone #opa opa #asb_art

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gunthermunch · 5 months

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do you think you could show us some grandpa marcus looks? I can't look at ea's version any more it feels so wrong

yes come with me

he's enjoying the cozy life while not completely abandoning the flex spirit. also i call the second look ''picking grandkid from school after jogging session'' mila calls it ''please tell me you didnt wear The pants around the elementary school teachers''

#gm reply #ask #Anonymous #marcus flex #i love him lets go opa #munch extras

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covesdadappreciation · 8 months

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MC who practically lives in Tamarack's house:

MC: What’s for dinner I’m dying

Opa: Don’t die on the good sofa it’s vintage

MC: You’re vintage

#our life #our life now and forever #mc #our life oc #incorrect quotes #olnf #MC #Opa #Tamarack's grandpa #Tamarack Opa #Our Opa #olnf opa

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mel-loly · 4 months

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-Good morning to everyone who likes Luffy!💖

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fyblackwomenart · 10 months

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Amadou Opa Bathily

La Connexion avec l'Univers, 2023

Painted fabrics and collage on canvas

35 2/5 × 35 2/5 in | 90 × 90 cm

#Amadou Opa Bathily #canvas #fabric #art

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angels-holocaust · 6 months

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Costas Mandylor in the short movie Opa (2023) for @livingbythewords

#costas mandylor #my gifs #opa #a little gift for you because you are always so nice to me #filmedit #movieedit #dailyflicks #moviegifs #cinemapix #costasmandyloredit

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gooberto · 9 months

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Any of you guys ever heard of Space Fantasy Zone?

#my art #fantasy zone #space harrier #space fantasy zone #sega #opa-opa #this is the most involved piece of art i've drawn in months and its for a game that was never released #weponalds deserves to be memorialized though

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httpwintersoldier · 7 months

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unlovable || a buggy angst/smut one-shot

dedicated to @fanaticsnail <3

Unlovable. Untrustworthy. An aberration. A freak. People saw Buggy as such, however, more than anything, he saw himself as that.

He was a villain through and through in everyone's eyes - even in front of the mirror.

So when the Captain walked into the troubled bar you had just gotten a job at, he told himself he was gonna take you with him, no matter what it took, no matter if he had to chain you.

What he didn't expect was that you'd actually go along with it... You seemed to... enjoy it?

You set down the drinks his crew had asked (yelled) for and, as you passed by him, the Captain spanked your ass.

"Lookin' pretty baby!"

He expected you to yell at him, slap him, throw him out... But no. You had set your eyes on the pretty captain with the big green eyes and the shiny blue hair the second he stepped in, so you were in absolute ecstasy when he made a move on you.

"Well thank you Captain." You said, as you looked over your shoulder and winked at him.

You walked back to the bar, to take care of other costumers, leaving a flabbergasted and shocked Buggy behind. He sure was glad he had heavy makeup on, or he'd be caught with a blush.

The Captain kept a close eye on you, watching the way your corset hugged your body, the way the skirt of your dress outlined your ass when you bent down to pick up empty mugs, and they way you'd sneakily steal glances at him from time to time.

"This is from the pretty lady that has an eye on you..." You said, placing a mug of beer on the table in front of him, then bending over to whisper in his ear "That being me, of course."

That was the first time Buggy didn't give a shit about booze. He swept you off your feet and carried you bridal style to his ship, stealing a couple kisses and bites as you walked, mentally cursing him for having the ship so far away - every second spent walking was a second wasted not inside of you.

"You're a cheeky one, baby." Buggy said, between heavy breaths, as he took off your pretty dress and kissed your neck.

You felt your face and body grow hot at the way the Captain roughly handled your body, and his raspy voice calling you "baby" sent a shiver down your spine and you felt tingles on your body.

Buggy, upon receiving no response, chuckled and removed his mouth from your neck to look into your eyes. The man gripped your jaw and brought your face closer.

"Oh no, pretty little thing, this isn't the time to get all shy on me..." He paused, kissing the spot right below your ear and biting your earlobe before whispering "I wanna see you bounce on my cock with that devious smile of yours, hm?"

With that, he bit his lip and smacked your ass. The Captain's eyes displayed such hunger and despair for your body that it fueled the confidence in you, completely overshadowing any ounce of shyness or embarrassment.

You gripped his jacket and pushed him onto the bed. The sensation between your legs didn't care that he was still dressed - all you needed was for his cock to be out.

You got on top of the man, straddling him. Between messy kisses and bites, you managed to pull out his fully erect cock.

The moans that left your lips in unison when you slid down on his cock were almost melodic, Buggy's hands immediately flying to grip your ass.

The praises and degrading comments that left his mouth were barely comprehensible, both because he was unable to speak properly with the way his cock was buried in you, but also because you couldn't take your eyes off of his beautiful, shiny green eyes full of lust as they ate your body up.

"You're such a good girl... shit- fuck! A good, good girl..."

The Captain could tell you were cumming, from the grip you had on his shirt and the way you began sloppily riding him, - which he was thankful for, as he was running out of random things to think about trying not to cum - so Buggy wrapped an arm around you and flipped you two around, so he could fuck you dumb and see that pretty face of yours scruch up in pleasure as he filled you up and you came on his cock.

That was a perfect beginning to your story - if only the plot and ending had followed the same path.

Due to Buggy's past (and present), he tended to trust no one. And no matter how hard he tried, the Captain couldn't trust you, he just couldn't. Not because he thought you weren't worthy of his trust, but because in his head he was unlovable.

In Buggy's head, no one could love him, let alone someone as perfect as you. It just didn't make sense. Why would you love him? The Captain spent every day, every second wondering when you were going to make a move, when you'd show your true interest in being with him, when you'd remove the mask and say that you were there to get his bounty or his riches.

You would sometimes argue, but you understood that, because of his tough history, you had to be patient with him, so you'd often just end up trying to calm him down.

When months began passing and you said nothing, he became impatient, irritated even - how long would you keep this up!? How long were you going to make a fool out of him!?

"Happy three month anniversary!" You chirped, coming up behind your Captain and hugging him, your chest pressing against his back.

You kissed him on the cheek with a big smile but, to your surprise, Buggy just pushed your away with a grunt.

When he did this, the small present box you held in your hands fell to the ground. You had gotten dressed up in the dress you met (and fucked) in for the first time, and arranged a small present made up with memories from the last three months, but the Captain didn't even look at you.

"Baby?... Is everything okay?" You asked with furrowed eyebrows, slowly stepping closer to him and putting your hand on his shoulder.

Buggy gripped your hand and harshly took it off of his shoulder, turning around to face you.

"What is this!? What the fuck are you doing, Y/N?"

His voice was loud, raspy and violent as he stepped closer to you. The big green eyes you loved so much were now unrecognizable: they stared at you with disgust and distrust, all light drained from them.

"Buggy, baby what... what do you mean? It's our anniversary it's- three months..." You clarified, fearful tears brimming in your eyes as you cowered down slightly.

"Three months of you lying to me." He said through gritted teeth.

The gift on the ground was long forgotten, and you couldn't believe what you had just heard. Your ears were ringing and you suddenly felt dizzy - where was this accusation coming from!?

"Lying!? Buggy I- I've never lied to you I don't know what you're talking about! Do you think I've been with other people, is that it!?" You asked, incredulous, not even understanding what you'd be lying about.

"I know you don't really love me! I know it's been a farce all along so just fucking stop pretending! tell me what it is you really want! Is it money!? Hm!? Status!?"

At that point, Buggy was harshly gripping your arms to the point that it hurt. Tears streamed down your cheeks as his eyes stared at you with a psychotic look.

"W-what!?" You finally pieced together that all the fighting, all of the distrust and disagreements up until now were because Buggy thought you didn't love him, that it was all ruse.

You felt hurt and betrayed that he could possibly think that of you, the person that gave up everything to stick by his side the past three months. But, at the same time, you remembered how broken he was and where he came from. The whirlwind of emotions and conflicting thoughts made it hard for you to make up your mind about what you felt at the moment - so you just let your mouth hang open, nothing but small stutters and silence coming out of it.

"Just- Stop fooling me Y/N!" Buggy said with teary eyes, finally letting go of you.

You caressed your arms, on the places he had gripped.

"Buggy I'm not fooling you! I- I let everything behind for you!"

"Why!?" He yelled, tugging at his hair "Why would you do that!?"

"Because I love you! Fuck!" You yelled back, frustrated.

"I... You can't. That's not possible..." His voice was quiet as he said this.

You carefully stepped towards him and cupped his face. The previous anger and distrust was now replaced by the same conflict of emotions you had gone through, and you could see it clearly.

"Buggy... Why would you think that?... Why would you think that of me? I thought you trusted me..." Your voice was shaky and sounded hurt as you asked this.

Buggy's hand slowly and carefully raised to rest on top of yours, as if it pained him to touch you.

"It's not possible that you love me... for me. You're too good, too perfect. I'm a monster, a freak-"

You shut him up with a kiss.

"Don't talk like that about the man I love." You said, a stern voice and a insistent look in your eyes.

Buggy detached himself from you, keeping a small distance between your bodies - as if he didn't want to let go but was forced to.

"I just can't believe those words."

His voice was sad and determined, almost as if those words masked a decision he longed to make.

"What does this mean then?" You asked, still hopeful there was something to do, completely oblivious to what Buggy's words meant.

"I'm sorry..." Regret, self-disappointment and sadness coated his voice, as his eyes looked at you as if someone had died.

"W-what does that mean Buggy?" Dots began connecting in your mind, understanding what it had come down to.

"Y/N I can't... I can't stop my mind. I've tried, these past few months I've tried to believe that you do love me, that you're not just trying to get something from me but I can't. And I'm just going to hurt you and I- I don't want that. I'm sorry Y/N." His voice was hushed and tears were uncontrollably flowing down his cheeks by the time he ended his sentence.

"No! Buggy, please..." You ran to grab his hands, pleading him with furrowed eyebrows. "We can make it better, I don't care that you hurt me in the process, I need you. You make me feel alive."

A hurtful silence set between the two of you, a million thoughts, emotions and memories shared with just one glance, and you understood that it was over.

"I can't bear to see you hurting, especially if I'm the one causing it..."

Buggy stepped closer slowly, pressing one last kiss to your lips. One that meant I'm sorry, I love you, I will miss you...

He then let go of your hands and you knew what it meant. You grabbed the few things you had and made your way out of the ship, ignoring the looks, questions and comments from the crew as you sobbed your way out.

The questions and comments ceased, out of fear and shock, as the crew saw their Captain cry and sob with red eyes.

He made his way to the deck, watching as you walked away. Watching as he silently said goodbye to the love of his life.

That night and every night from that day on, Buggy slept clinging to your gift, going through the memories over and over, reminding himself of the happiness he'd given up from and would never feel again.

#buggy smut #buggy angst #one piece #opla #opla smut #opla angst #buggy the clown #buggy the clown smut #buggy one piece #buggy fanfic #buggy opa smut #buggy opla angst #buggy x reader #buggy x reader angst #buggy x reader smut #buggy x you #buggy opla #opla buggy #buggy the clown x reader

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stardustlyssa · 7 months

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Time to color!

Im a little bummed because I’ve only received one preorder for OP keychains. I know most of you guys followed me for TOH content, but im hoping I can get support for the other fandoms I love too.

#one piece #op #opa #one piece live action #one piece manga #one piece anime #anime #manga #nami #straw hat nami #cat burglar nami #op nami #one piece nami #artist #fanart #one piece fanart #one piece art #illustration

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leopardom · 8 months

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this is an appreciation post for this moment of pure balkan beauty from the latest vlog

#opa!#joker out #bojan cvjetićanin #jan peteh #kris guštin #nace jordan #jure maček

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ninjachael · 5 months

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love this funny looking spaceship

#opa opa #fantasy zone #sega

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resuswhore · 1 year

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overview: m/m resus, fluid in lungs; cpr, suction, pacing, very hardware heavy. whumpy with a happy ending.

- this was originally written as personal/private piece, I wrote to get off, but I decided to share, so the flow might be a little odd. - perspective slightly shifts from beginning to end, but nothing drastic, just a heads up. - this is my first official piece on here, hope y'all like it.

I need to hold a limp and vulnerable boy in my arms, to feel his soft skin and brittle bones fall completely to my will, I want to hold his hands in mine, knowing his life depends on me. I want to hold him as he lays unconscious in a hospital gown, to kiss his almost too cool forehead, and listen to the beep beep beep beep of the monitor as his heart struggles to beat for itself.

I want his body is intruded upon; IVs in his hands and wrists, even in the crooks of his elbows, a PICC line taped down against his bicep, a central line embedded against his chest, a jugular line if I’m really luck, giving me access to all of him, to his weak heart and sickly body. I’ll to press kisses along his arms, port to port, iv to iv, feeling the sterile plastic beneath my lips. I’ll hold his cold hands in mine, weary of the pulse ox taped to his forefing, making sure to be gentle as I hold onto him like I’m his lifeline, and in a way, I am.

I will take him into my arms as he struggles to remain in the same plane as me, slipping between the veil of life and death. I’ll call his name and shake him in a way that seems far to harsh despite my attempts to be gentle with his fragile body; I’ll to watch as his limbs flutter around helplessly, and his head lolls against my shoulder, his face remaining slack.

As his heart begins to fade, I’ll force my knuckles into his sternum, rubbing at it harshly until it is covered in bruises. I want to feel his weak attempts at whimpers and the hiss of struggled breaths, as I try desperately to force life back into his weakening chest, to make his dying heart beat a bit stronger, a bit faster. I’ll take seflish pride in knowing the pain I’m causing him is saving his life, even if something that could almost label as guilt or shame tears through my own heart.

I’ll try to help him breathe, even if I know my actions are futile; I’ll help him sit upright, laying him against my chest, fluid spilling from his lips as I use a single, gentle hand against his throat, gripped tightly around his jaw, to hold his airway nice and open, while also tilting his head slightly down to allow him to pass the fluid keeping him from getting air. Every time he begins to choke, despite lacking the energy to do so, I’ll use my finger to clear his throat of spit and fluid so he can attempt to breathe clearly. When he stutters through half a breath, choking before he can fully fill his lungs, I’ll press my mouth over his and give him some of my own breath, feeling his chest rise and fall, his cheeks pillowing and throat shifting as I do so, bobbing as he nearly chokes over the force of my air going down his throat, pressing gentle kisses to his lips between each breath.

Eventually, he’ll stop breathing against me entirely, and I will hear him gurgling on his own spit until he is too weak to attempt another, and feel his ribs stopping shifting with the far too intense effort it took to pull even the smallest amount of air into his body, and his weak attempts at coughs as his lungs give out, jerking his chest against my own pitifully, his head pulling back ever so slightly until he goes entirely slack. My own heart will ache and my stomach will tingle with something eerily similar to arousal as his heart follows suit, flickering out from its already slow rhythm until there is nothing but a sharp ringing in the air. I’ll shift the hand currently holding his airway open, letting his head sag and his airway obstruct almost completely, to press my fingers deeply into his carotid, wanting to feel for myself that he is gone.

Before I can even process the fact that his heart has truly stopped, I will quickly scoop him up into my arms, his head falling off my shoulder and sagging helplessly, causing his neck to extend in an exposed fashion, before laying him out on the bed haphazardly, surrounded by the muffed-up blue hospital sheets and myriad of lines and wires and tubes that curl around him like some sort of all-consuming halo, letting his gown ride up and become disheveled, exposing his beautiful skin; the boney curves of his chest, the way his ribs stick out ever so slightly to protect his weak lungs and weaker heart, the soft flesh of his belly, the sharp edges of his collar bone.

I’ll press my fingers to each of his leads, making sure they’re firmly stuck down where they are littered over his chest, and rearrange the wires so they lay nicely against his form. As I let my eyes scan over his unmoving body, I’ll tighten the blood pressure cuff around his thigh, just to be safe. I’ll card my fingers through his hair and study his emotionless face, pressing kisses over his closed eyes and to the corners of his cold lips.

As I half heartedly pump his chest with one hand, I’ll attempt to shove my suction tube down his throat with the other, trying desperately to do the job of 2 people, maybe three people at once, or more so, the work his body should be doing but can’t. I’ll hear the satisfying crackle of fluid leaving his wet lungs, all while his head bobs with each compression, his body offering no other reaction to the bowing of his ribs or the tube down his throat. I’ll struggle at the angle, having to abandon his heart to focus on his lungs.

I want to watch his lips turn blue as I struggle to suction all the fluid from his throat and lungs, unable to truly get any air in his lungs, no matter how many times I pressed my lips to his and blew as hard as I could, only to feel my breath gargle in his lungs. I’d shift his head over and over until I decided to place and OPA, slipping the plastic tube down his throat, finally establishing an airway; I’d use it to place a suction tube down his airway, into his lungs, finally clearing enough fluid give his body what it so desperately needed. I’ll press my warm, pink, lips to his cold, gray-ish ones, finding them sickly moist, but finally feeling air move through the plastic tube and down into his lungs, lifting his chest in the process, the warm air coming back cool.

Once I can get his airway stabilized, I’ll go back to his chest, finding his once pale ivory skin now tinted gray. His delicate ribs bow beneath my hands almost too easily, his stomach bulging and his shoulders jumping with each compression. The sound of the gentle gasps of air that leave him, almost whistling past the OPA, as I break his chest and the quiet but still harsh beeping of the EKG as it warns me of his dropping stats and the effects of my compressions on his sick heart filling my ears.

I want to make use of all those ports, filling him with fluids and drugs, desperately hooking him up to whatever I can get my hands on, anything that could potentially bring him back to me. I’ll send adrenaline straight through his PICC line, fluids and vasopressors through his IVs, trying to stabilize his dying body or bring back even the most feeble of heart beats.

I’d have to keep breathing for him, stopping my compressions when my shoulders begin to burn more than I can power through, only to drape myself over him, fingers in his hair, as I press our mouths together, breathing into the OPA, air filling past the plastic tube. I’ll repeat the action over and over again, filling my lovers lungs with air, reveling in the smoothness the airway brings to our one-sided exchange of air, how the air whisps out of it with a gentle hiss, how steady it feels when I place my hand to his chest, feeling it fill his moist lungs.

I still have to pause to suction him over and over, to keep him from drowning on his own fluids, but something about the action, feeding the tube down his throat and working it through his lungs, hearing the crackle of fluid, and even when I go back to breathing for him, his chest rattles every now and again despite my best efforts. His lips grow colder and colder against mine as time passes, but as I breathe for him again and again, they momentarily match my warmth before I go back to compressions, our last exchange feeling almost like a kiss, but surely cool when I abandon them.

I’ll pull his gown even further down to expose his full chest, and the bruises I’ve left, so I can press AED pads to his skin, feeling his bones shift beneath me as I press them to his chest firmly. I’ll shock him and watch his chest seize, and his head throw back, exposing his pretty neck, and his hands clenched tightly at his sides. I’ll shock him over and over again, each time with higher and higher voltage, his reaction to the shocks becoming more violent each time. After each attempt I’ll lean over and kiss him, gently apologizing for what I’m doing to him, only to shock him again even harder. Somehow the shame is arousing, knowing I’m breaking him, hurting him, only out of desperation.

I’ll need him to come back, I’ll beg him throughout the compressions, as my hands begin to wander from his sternum, and straying just slightly to the left, directly over his heart, because I need it to beat, I need to pump it directly so it can find the strength to restart.

I want his name to fall off my tongue like a prayer, over and over and over again, until there is nothing left in my mind. I want my actions, and my devotions to be like prayer to him, my attention to every facet of his being, even then, when he is dead under my hands, to be like worship. I want to break him, hurt him, destroy him in my attempts to revive him; burning his skin with each shock, breaking his ribs, bruising his beautiful body.

His heart restart after I’ve shocked him more times than I can count, given him more air than I can even begin to imagine, and broken his chest in a desperate manner. It’ll be weak and slow, I’ll have to guide it with my hands, continuing shallow compressions, so it doesn’t flutter back out of existence, until I grow too tired to keep up any consitancy.

I’ll switch to pacing with the AED, struggling to get it to catch a rhythm at all, turning the dial up more and more, worrying that he’s too far gone, that even though his hearts attempting to beat at the moment, its given up its fight and wants only to fizzle out and be left alone (little does it know I won’t allow that). but once it does, I’ll find pleasure in watching his chest jolt with each small shock of the pacer. I'll turn the volts up, much like I did the defib, and push his heart to be strong. I want to hold his hand as he begins to dig his nails into his palms as he is struck with pain. I can’t even bring myself to give him something for the pain out of fear of risking his heart stopping once more, even though I know it's cruel and most likely selfish to do so. I love him, I can’t lose him, I’ll torture him if it’ll keep him alive, pleasures lulls through my being at the realization.

His breathing remains non-existent, so I’ll have to keep breathing for him, keep giving him these kisses of life, knowing my air is keeping him alive, is keeping his feeble heart beating and his sad little lungs alive. I’ll switch to an ambu bag when I can’t keep his saturation up any longer, and his body has gone a sick grayish palor, far past that blue shade, for me to keep using my recycled air, and when I do, I’ll fill his lungs to the brim each time, and relish in the return of color to his skin. It was selfish to deprive him of real oxygen for so long, but the feeling of knowing I held him in limbo for so long is intoxicating.

I’d spend hours keeping him alive, holding him in my arms, sterile hospital sheets wrapped around his form in an attempt to work some color back into his skin, my lips pressing to every inch of skin I can get to, kissing him ever so gently, willing him with sweet words to stay with me. I’d breathe for him, with the ambu bag until my wrists grew sore, and only then would I indulge my need to fill him with my own air, pressing my lips to his over and over again until his stats dropped, before going back to the bag, taking breaks every time he’d start to gurgle on fluid reaching his airway, to suction fluid from his lungs once more. Maybe he’d code a few times, maybe he’d gasp a few of his own breaths, or maybe he would just lay there, letting me help him, letting me keep him alive with no struggle or resistance.

But eventually he’d flutter into consciousness, looking frantically through his lashes, eyes blown wide and teary, whining as his chest spasms with each jolt of the pacer, and gagging on the airway still sitting in his throat. I’ll insist he keeps it in for me, because I need him to be safe for me, that he still can’t hold his own airway and his heart can’t maintain its own steady beat, and that it's for his own good. I’ll tell him I’m sorry, that everything hurts, that he has to suffer through the pain because I can’t risk his precious little heart.

I’ll watch as he struggle, hands haphazardly trying to pull the pads off his chest or pull out the air way, gently restraining him as the struggle begins throwing off his heart rhythm. I’d bind them to the side of the bed, holding one hand in my own, stroking his cheek with the other. I’d promise him that I was sorry, that he had to leave it, that he needed it, that is was for his own good, that it would all be over soon. I’d kiss away his tears as he struggled to remain conscious, finding trust in his tired puppy dog eyes.

I won’t allow him to breathe on his own, not unassisted, no, I’d sit behind him, leaning him against my chest, his head rested in the crook of my shoulder, aiding each and every breath with the ambu bag, oxygen turned up full flow, making sure his chest fills completely each time. His lungs are still weak and soggy, I still need to suction him every now and then, which is harder now that he’s conscious, but twice as pleasing, cutting off his air so that way he doesn’t continue to choke

treating him seems to be a lot like that, ebb and flow, doing harm in the moment to do good in the future, hurting him to keep him alive, torturing him because I love him, shame turning into pleasure

I’ll watch his eyes roll back as he loses grip on reality, lashes fluttering, alarms blaring, fluid crackling through the suction, something twisting in me in the most divine way. Once I’m finished I make sure to give him deep, almost too full breaths, rubbing his sternum until his eyes snap open, flashing to me in a panicked manner. I’ll kiss him and tell him everything is alright, that I’ve got him, that he’s safe with me, because he is, I’d shift the tides to keep him here with me. He’ll look up at me, still scared, confused even, and in pain, but all I’ll see is trust, trust that I’m protecting him, trust that I wouldn’t be hurting him if I didn’t have to, trust that I love him and thats why I’m doing this.

He’d submit himself to me, letting his eyes fall blankly around the room, his own breathing completely stopped, not because he can’t, but because he knows I’ll do it for him, his body going completely pliant against me so I can shift him and hold him and work him however I need without any problem.

In time his heart will strengthen, part of me is too worried to take him off the pacer, but I do slip him some morphine, and he finally slips into a blissful enough state to sleep. I’ll slip out from behind him, settling him up on the pillows gently, making sure his airway remains stable. I’ll decide to switch him to a breathing bag, so he can breathe on his own, but I’m still able to assist when needed, giving me an opportunity to let my mind stray.

I keep part of my mind locked on his body, the sound of his breathing, the way his chest moves as he inhales, the spasm caused by the pacer, the force it takes him to get air in, the palor of his skin; another on the monitor, what his vitals look like, if any alarms are going off; a third on the bag, watching him inhale, deflating the bag slightly before it refills with air. But the rest is focused on him, his pretty face, the bruises I’ve left all over him, on his chest, his jaw, even his lips are all red and swollen. His ribs are battered beyond belief, there are surely burns under the AED pads from how long they’ve sat on his body, his palms are bloodied from how tightly he’s clenched his hands tight, but something about all that is beautiful, all tragic like. It makes me want to just sit and stare, and to be frank, I do. I sit and I watch, hushing him when the morphine begins to wear off, squeezing the bag when he struggles to breath on his own, holding his hand still bound to the bed all throughout the night, savoring his beauty, almost like he’s now too fragile to touch.

In the morning, I’ll take the airway out and let him breathe on his own, feeling an odd disappointment in my relinquishment of control, almost shoving it back in when he chokes hard, coughing up fluid into his lap, his eyes panicked, but a few blows to the back and a rebreather mask takes the edge off and eventually he settles back into the pillows, where he’ll watch me dazily as I rub his chest, trying to get his breathing to fully settle until he falls back to sleep. His heart rate remains steady so I begin to wean him off the pacer, lowering the voltage bit by bit until I feel sure I can take them off. All the while, he doesn’t say a word, his throat is bruised from my efforts, but he watches me idly, like he wants to say something.

He’s still sick, there's still fluid in his lungs, and his hearts still weak, his output is low and his rhythm is bradycardic, but manageable with atropine, his saturation fluctuates, but upping his oxygen helps that too. He watches me float about his room, doting or while I’m working on him, listening to his heart and lungs with the stethoscope (hissing at his wet lungs once) more pushing meds, suctioning his lungs, cleaning around his ports. He even watches while I’m looking at the machines keeping him alive, listening as I babble to him mindlessly. He smiles, leans back, chest huffing lightly;

“I love you,” I barely hear him, his voice is quiet and broken, he coughs lightly between each syllable, but he says it. He looks at me like I’ve hung the stars (and his morphine), holding out his sickly looking hand, which I take immediately. “You saved me.”

He smiles, his perfect, soft, glowing smile, despite everything else happening to him, lightly squeezing my hand to the best of his ability, his head sinking into the pillow like it takes all his strength just to do so, and in reality, it easily could. But that doesn’t stop him from pulling my hand up to his chest, right over his heart, where it's thumping against his splinted ribs. I go to speak, to assure him that of course I did, but he pushes me with a gentle look.

“I’m here, cause of you, you saved me,” his words are floaty, like he’s not 100% there, but he looks at me, eyes wide, sure of himself, before pulling my hand up to his carotid, letting my fingers find his pulse, weak and slow, but there. “I’m still here, and I’m going to stay here, because I have you. and you won’t let me go.”

He wraps both of his IV ridden hands around my arm, his skin cool against mine, bringing it to his mouth so he could kiss my fingers. It was odd, feeling the boy he had just spent hours resuscitating and stabilizing, be the one to take care of him, even as minisculely as he was now, but touch was far from foreign, and the look in his eye was far too comforting not to lean into.

We would most certainly have to talk, really talk, about everything, but that could wait, right now, all I planned to do, was hold onto my boy, to feel him breathing, to hear his heart rate on the monitor, knowing I got him back, that all of it was worth it, cause he was here, and his still love me, despite the pain and the fear, the selfish choices made out of my own lust. It’d be fine. We’re fine.

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