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fanaticsnail · 4 months

Text

"I Can't Do This Without You"

Masterlist Here, Pollen Masterlist Here

Word Count: 5,939 (why am I like this)

Warnings: Pollen!Buggy x afab!reader, swearing, smut, mdni, p n v, chase, thrill, fluff, semi-public, mutual pining, has plot - I swear, whimpering, pleading, groaning, use of pet names: baby, sugar, sugarplum, hun, captain, Buggy is a switch.

I said I'd get it done in 48h, and I am a snail true to my word. Crispy leaf, dangle dangle.

Apprehensive Tag List: @sordidmusings, @feral-artistry, @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity

Minors, this is not for you.

You groaned as the exhaustion overtook you, lulling your head backwards and releasing a deep sigh from the chasms of your throat. Feeling the fabric of the partially dampened tea-towel grind uncomfortably against your water-swollen fingertips had you release a hiss from your clenched teeth.

It was your turn to remain awake, plagued by the domestic duties that came with serving alongside the Buggy pirates. Although your allocations were rotational, you loathed being the only pirate awake during the cryptid hours aboard the vessel. Everything was silenced, aside from the rambunctious snores produced in the crew-quarters: roars, snores and heavy-laden breathing calling you to both run to and away from them as your eyelids grew heavy.

The echo of: “Nobody can do this like you can,” relayed on loop, the soft breath of your captain dancing atop your neck from behind. He knew exactly what his verbal praise did to you, the confident and arrogant asshole that he was. You adored your captain, loved serving him with your peers and sailing the East Blue with him guiding you through the currants and riding through the waves.

The only issue that you had serving your captain was this one, small, unspoken thing that had him sweetly pouring your name from his painted lips in a sticky-sweet drawl. His molasses-tone purring for you, coaxing you into doing his bidding by just the utterance of your name. It had your knees aching, spine tingling and heartstrings caught in the firm vice of his gloved fist. Perhaps he truly had no idea what he was doing to you. The way the small rasp in his voice pulled against his tonsils, the sweetness in his cadence truly revealed who he was to you alone.

You shook your head, plunging your hands back into the suds and muck of the dishwater. The texture of undiscarded food scraps brushing your fingertips caused your lips to pull back, revealing your pearled teeth in a disgusted snarl. Savages: the lot of them. A shudder crept up your back as you pulled the plug from the basin and ran the cool water from the tap. You anchored the nozzle of the tap over the basin, aiming for the bile-like gunk stuck to the steel container and coaxing them down the sink.

Heavy footfalls of buckled boots broke you away from your disgust, alert and ready to meet with whomever tore you from your thoughts. You rinsed your rubber gloves before removing them, casting them aside to the corner of the sink beside the amassment of freshly cleansed dishes, and turned to greet your crewman. You were shocked to see it was not just a simple comrade sneaking in to collect a glass of water, but your captain clad in nothing but his tight leather pants and unbuckled boots. His long blue hair lay carelessly from his head, waterfalling from the crown of his head down his shoulders and tickling his chiseled abdomen. Whispers of the partially curled hair, untamed and unbridled without his striped red and white bandana, stuck to his forehead in stringy clusters.

“H-Hey, Love,” his voice rasped. His eyes were panicked, wide behind the lengthy blue eyelashes. The small stuttered quiver in his ungloved hands had your brow furrowing into a dip in the middle of your face. Although not unaccustomed to pet-names from him; the tone in his voice held you captive and unwavering.

“Captain?” you asked after him, watching as your voice caused his head to twitch to the side and eyes clamp tightly shut, “Captain? Are you okay? You look poorly.” You removed your apron and hastily cast it down to the side as you approached him. As quickly as you approached, he stuttered his feet backwards and fisted the doorframe within his firm grip.

Immediately halting your steps, your heart beat harder within your chest. Panicked. Your Captain was panicked and frantic. He steadied himself, cowering away from your and physically holding himself to the frame as if it was the last thing anchoring him to the earth.

“Captain-?” you began, only for your words to be halted by your captain speaking through gritted teeth. His jaw was clenched so tightly closed, you were afraid he’d break his pearly teeth.

“-J-Just-....hnngh-... I n-need you to do something-... f-for me,” his voice faltered as the last syllable left his painted lips. His brows furrowed, eyes clamped tightly shut; his blue triangular patterns adorning his cheeks bled into the creases he created with the tightness. Sweat was pooling from his brow, down his temple to his stubbled chin.

“Captain!” you called after him, prompting him to shake his head from side to side violently to halt you from approaching him further.

“This was a m-mistake. I c-can’t-... fuck-... I-,” He pulled himself closer to the doorframe; his hips falling flush against the wall from behind. Your eyes searched his closed lids, following the trail of sweat down his chin to the bob of his Adams apple and down the scruff of his tufts of blue chest-hair.

“Captain,” you spoke in a warning tone. He shook his head from side to side once more, frantic and wild behind his clenched shut eyes. You took a tentative step towards him, his eyes snapping open at the small creak of your foot atop the floorboards.

“Baby,” he whimpered through a pained groan. His pupils were blown wide and frantic. His saliva drew the red tint away from its designated position against his lips and down his chin. There was something rabid in the air. To what extent, you truly had no idea.

“What do you need, sir?” Your professional response was to fall back into your ship-savvy training. You stood alert, your hands laced behind your back and awaiting orders from your pirate captain. He winced at your cadence, his voice unleashing a feral groan from his throat. It was deep, desperate and needy - heavy in the growl that laid against its raspy undertone.

“Baby, I need you to take my head. Take my head, and run.”

At that final command, he tossed his head at you and you began your sprint towards the upper deck of the Big-Top. You held your captain’s head within the hook of your elbow, cradling him into your chest as your feet picked up a sprint.

“Where am I going, sir?” you asked him, looking down at the painted clown you had chosen as your captain.

“Away f-from my body,” he winced. You noticed the tone in his voice, picking up his immediate distress and almost halting your steps to go back to collect his torso-.

“-DON’T!” He barked at you. You stiffened, picking up the pace once again as you fled away from the kitchen’s scullery and to the woven ropes beside the top mast.

Why did he have to collect that substance? Why did he have to find a way to siphon it into his latest ‘Buggy Ball’? Why did he have to spill it over his gloved wrist, immediately inhaling it and sneezing through the chalky pollen?

Because Captain Buggy D Clown was, among all other things, a fucking idiot.

He cursed at himself, feeling the tightness in the crotch of his leather pants as he braced his body against the doorframe, hoping you had ran far enough away from him to not cage you against the wall and rut into you like an ill-tempered, ill-mannered staffordshire bull terrier.

It was no secret that he gave you preferential treatment among the crew. He attempted to balance this out by giving you the poor jobs he wouldn’t dream of designating to the others because “nobody does it like you can.” He mentally slapped himself in the face at thinking of that, as he was cradled so protectively against the side of your chest. He wanted you, he wanted you. He wanted you.

But not like this.

He continued to verbally berate himself as your feet carried you further atop the deck and up the ropes. Your feet looped effortlessly against the woven ladder, hoisting both yourself and him to the crows nest and cowering into the side: hidden and out of sight. The stars illuminated your skin, the rise and fall of your pants holding him in a hypnotic stance as he watched your breasts swell with oxygen. Desire fell from his lips in a feral growl, prompting you to look down and search his face with panic written all over it.

Even in his afflicted state, he could truly see how desperately you cared for him. The way your hands reached to collect his chin and coax his pollen-blown pupils to meet with your own held him bewitched by your compassion.

“Captain?” You asked after him, breaking him from his trance momentarily as he panted out incoherent curses and ramblings, “Buggy. You need to tell me what’s going on. How can I fix this? What can I do?”

“You gotta stay away from my body, Hun,” he winced, left eye closing as his right attempted to hold firm to your gaze, “h-he-...f-fuck-... He w-wants-.....hha-ah-... He wants you, Sugar.”

You stay stationary, holding firm and perplexed as your captain continues swearing, cursing and groaning into the wee hours of the morning. You had no idea what had come over him, his affliction pulling at your heart as you watched more sweat produce at his temple.

“Why do I need to keep away from your body, Captain?” you asked him, placing his head down beside your own and lying down against the floorboards of the crows nest. He panted, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he winced through his next words.

“I fucking told you already, Baby. He wants you.” You cocked your head to the side as you watched your captain huff and suck his bottom lip in and out of his lips. His pants and groans caused caution to tug at your mind as you continued to study him.

His pained face almost looked as a lover would writhe beneath their other half. Lustful and insatiable being the balance of his growling and pleading expression, his brows knitting together in concentration as he continued to pant like an animal. Surely your captain would not behave as irrationally as a teenager in search of their next crevice to gyrate against.

Until it dawned on you.

That was exactly what you were dealing with.

“Captain?” you cautiously asked down at him, “Did you-... D-Did you toy with that flower? The one you said you wouldn’t touch?” After several clenched inhales and exhales, Buggy managed to hiss out a simple word that would change your reaction from concerned to appalled.

“Yes.”

You immediately began to grumble and chastise the captain, who whimpered away like a puppy caught behaving in a manner undesired by their owners. After a few minutes of berating and chastising, you halted your words as you witnessed the tremble in the bottom lip of your captain. You shook your head and huffed out a simple angry puff of breath.

“You were warned that it was a powerful aphrodisiac, yes?” you snarled at him, top lip pulling upwards to reveal your canines.

“Yes,” He managed to hiss out once again.

“And you chose to fuck with it anyway? Knowing there is no known antidote, yes?” You reprimanded him again, prompting a small winced whimper from your captain as he cried another simple: “Yes.”

You groaned, feeling the frustration and pain of a thousand subordinates taking directions from an idiot captain, and turned on your side, collecting the clown’s whimpering head into your hands and hoisting him over to you.

“Buggy,” your voice held the reprimanding tone of a superior as you cautioned a warning at your captain, “You are an idiot.”

“I know, Baby,” he managed to wince out through clenched teeth, “b-but I-...hnngh-... I c-couldn’t n-not. It was-... shit–t-... It was right there.”

You sucked in a long and exasperated breath through your nose, filling your chest with the rage of a begrudging superior and began to collect enough rage within you to bring down your frustration onto him-... Only to halt as your eyes met his.

He was a wreck. His pupils blown, his lips quivering and his teeth chattering behind his whimpering mouth. He was awaiting your beration: dreading it, but prepared for it. He wanted you to be angry with him. He wanted you to be upset that he did something stupid. He wanted you to be-... you. He wanted you.

“Why did you seek me out, Captain?” you asked him while removing your overcoat and placing it to the side.

“I-I-... I don’t kn-know,” he whimpered, his eyes wide and beginning to brim with desperate tears.

“Oh? You don’t know?” you asked him, kicking off your boots beneath you and unbuckling your belt, “You didn’t think I’d desire to relieve you of this predicament?” You unbuttoned your blouse, springing forth your breasts into the air and shimmying the cotton material from your shoulders, “You are my Captain.”

“What-... W-What are you doing?” he panted at you. His jaw was slackened, unblinking eyes never once pulling away from you as you continued to undress yourself. You rolled your eyes at him as you continued shimmying yourself from your clothes; presenting your nudity beneath the dusted starlight. Your captain’s blush darkened beneath his painted face, eyes bulging as his jaw began involuntarily salivating.

“Captain,” you huffed out, rolling back onto your side and meeting his gaze with your reprimanding gaze. Your eyes softened as they met with his, your eyebrows arching upwards at the center and a small smile drew itself to your lips. “You sought me out in the middle of the night,” you smirked, reaching for his cheek but halting before touching him.

You witnessed his pained and conflicting expression, his grimace straining against his cheeks as his eyes continued to yearn for you. You apprehensively sighed, placing your palm down in front of the clown-captain and bore your eyes into his own. Always encouraging, supporting and cheering for him in your expression.

“I joined your crew to serve you, Buggy,” you confessed to him, “You. You, sir.” You scooted your body closer to him, opting to not make the initial contact with him and holding firm to your position perpendicular to him. He grimaced, wincing in pain but his eyes were full and blown with lust and yearning.

“D-Don’t, Love,” his tone held the undertones of warning, his teeth pulling back and painfully gritting together in his jaw, “don’t say that. Y-You’re too g-good for the crew-... sssff-... too good f-for me-e.”

You scoffed at him, inching ever closer to him and almost brushing your nose against his beautiful, rotund circle of a nose.

“I chose to serve you, Captain,” you bore down your intense gaze into his own, “In whatever capacity you deem me worthy.” He groaned, his face involuntarily seeking out your own as you continued your confession, “What is it you always say? Nobody can do this like I can?”

His jaw fell slack, his eyes completely tint-less as they became eclipsed by desire. The cool teal of his irises were all but lost beneath his gaze. You smiled at him, turning over to lay on your back: eyes looking upwards at the stars as you unleashed a small sigh into the air.

“What a-are you doing?” he stuttered, slowly inching his decapitated head towards your face. Your eyes held a softness, the smile on your face as hypnotic as the day he first laid eyes on you.

“Oh, Captain,” you cooed at him, refusing to look at his face as you continued to stare upwards into the cloudless sky, “I’m just waiting for your body to catch up to where your head is.”

Buggy’s thoughts, swirling as the cesspool of a thousand bogs, was rattled by your words. Had he wanted you? Yes. He yearned for you, he pined for you. He had always imagined how beautiful you looked, split over his cock as he inched you downwards to take in his impressive length. He had always imagined you mewling and pleading for him to have you cum against his painted lips, coaxing the eruption of bliss from your core with his tongue as you rode his face. He had fisted his cock in solitude thinking of you, only you, as he spilt himself over his thumb and into a long forgotten sock while he whispered your name as gentle as a prayer between his lips.

He wanted you. He wanted you so badly. But he wanted you to want him. He didn’t want you to just be his crewman in servitude to their captain. He wanted you to need him exactly as much as he needed you. Even while his senses became overpowered by the aphrodisiac, he wanted you to want him in return.

“Captain?” your voice called to him, your apprehensive and almost shy tone breaking him from his thoughts. He nodded, knowing you could see him from the corner of your eyes. Even in his afflicted state, he attempted to keep his desperate eyes hyper focussed on your face as he noticed you gulp back a dry mouthful of saliva. “Do-... Do you think you could-... Talk to me a little?”

“What d-you m-mean, Sugarplum?” he winced, feeling the proximity of his body rapidly approaching towards the two of you in the crows nest. You huffed out your embarrassment, already naked in body beside him but yet to bare your soul.

“Buggy,” you warned him, your eyes now becoming haunted with your own quiet longing and desperation, “You know what your voice does to me, sir. I-... If we’re going to do this, I need you to talk to me.”

He was long gone from the part of feigning innocence to the matter. He was fully aware you were interested in his flirtations: reciprocating them in turn, but always shying away first to his crude and unwithheld shamelessness.

“You want me-... to get you in the mood? F-For me to… fuck you senseless?” He asked, his brow again releasing a new bead of frustrated and lustful sweat down his temple to his lip. He noticed the visible quiver in your body at the word ‘fuck’, prompting his body to quicken its haste at climbing the ropes from below. His pants were long discarded, his boots pooling at the floor beneath them as he continued to climb as a wild and ferocious beast up the ropes.

“O-Oh,” his whimpered question fled his lips more as a statement, a growl anchoring the end of his expression downwards as he watched your body continue to respond to him. Without warning, his head rocked into your shoulder, placing his lips on every inch of your skin he could find and wiggling his way upwards to trail long and desperate kisses to your jaw and neck.

“Oh, baby,” he began, licking and kissing at the pulse of your neck, “I have thought of nothing but y-you… -hnghh, fuck-...” he confessed as his feet fell; his cock brushing slightly against the rope and providing the smallest amount of stimuli against the throbbing shaft, “I-I wanted you, hun. I wanted you s-so badly. I wanted t-to know what you looked like caged in my arms as I fucked you beneath me-,” his feet began to pick up the pace, sprinting up the ropes to draw his throbbing closer to you.

“Hun, I don’t th-think you’re aware of how much I want you,” He licked a long stripe up your collar bone, his teeth grazing your skin as he whimpered against you, “baby, I-I-... I c-couldn’t-...” His words halted in his throat, truly not desiring to release his confession into the air for fear of never reclaiming the words back.

“What, Cap?” you gasped, finally turning to him with your eyes half-lidded and glazed with lust, “what couldn’t you do? Tell me. Tell me, please?” He growled, launching his decapitated head towards you and placing trails of creeping open-mouthed kisses against your cheek, nose and jaw - never claiming your lips beneath his for fear of breaking the spell and having you sprint from him.

“I-I-...” he whined, feeling his feet beginning to tingle in his approach. He was so close to you, so close to your glistening opening: ready and waiting for him to dive into your supple flesh and chase his release, “-I only think of you. I-I-... I can’t-... I can’t cum without thinking of you. I need you. I only think of you, the way you’d fuck. Baby, the way you’d taste.”

You gasped, finally claiming his cheek within your palm and watching the tearful expression of the clown within your hands and chasing his fleeting gaze with your eyes.

“Captain?” you cooed down at him, desperately trying to conceal your enthusiasm and excitement with your tone, “Captain, do-... do you picture me? When you touch yourself? When you-... when you masterbate?” Before the clown could halt his pathetic words from falling from his lips, his mind began to spiral as he continued his unholy confession.

“Baby, I-I tried to cum s-so badly without you. I was right there. I even found your old wanted poster and thought of making you scream as I stretched you out. I-I tried to cum while thinking of you. I kept chasing it, hun. I-I-... I can’t do it without you. I was right there twelve times before I went to find you in the kitchens. I t-tried. It’s-... I can’t do this without you,” he desperately cried, his eyes open and honest as he spilt nothing but truths from his lips. Your heart broke for him, and the shame of his confession began to glisten your aching entrance and swollen clit with his pathetic whines and calls for you.

At that, you felt the dangerous presence of his body begging to be reunified. The thrill held you quivering in anticipation, desperate to help your captain in whichever manner he deemed appropriate to chase his relief. You closed your eyes tightly shut, feeling his body fall downwards onto you and cage you beneath it.

“Baby, s-say something,” Buggy’s voice whispered at your jaw, his lips collecting the skin beneath it, “I-I can’t control myself f-for much longer. Baby I n-need to know this is o-okay.” His plea had your eyes snap open, meeting his teal gaze as he desperately sought out your own.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, feeling the inches of heat grazing against your thigh in his shaft’s approach towards your shamefully aroused entrance.

“I-I’m sorry,” he whispered into you. You felt the graze of his swollen tip prodding against your oozing entrance, flicking its shined tip against your clit as he rejoined his head firmly atop his shoulders, “I never wanted it to be like this.” He reached down, grasping his abused shaft and almost screaming as he did. His senses were overwhelmed, so desperate for stimuli but conflicted because he wanted so desperately to be good for you.

“It’s okay, Captain,” you reassured him, turning away from his face to shy from his feral expression. You held your eyes closed in shame at how truly intoxicated this made you. You were both blessing the horrible pollen for having him finally make a move, while guilty at the fact that this was the only reason you were feeling his knob rake slowly between your silken abdominal lips.

“L-Look at me,” he whispered down at you, “p-please, baby. Please look at me.” As you slowly turned to face him, he achingly withheld the urge to slam his cock fully within your entrance and pushing to the hilt of his shaft in one swift movement. He was physically shaking with the inability to control himself further than allowing this one moment to pass between you.

As your eyes slowly and coyly met, he glanced deep and unblinkingly into your eyes as he slowly inched the tip of his cock into you. You watched that subtle quiver in his eyes; the way his lip trembled at the friction as his leaking tip arched its way beyond the first point of contact. He muffled a scream, finally feeling relief at the contact of your walls sucking his cock within them. He fought back another urge to break away his eye contact and have his eyes roll back into his skull in bliss of the feeling - opting to continue staring deeply into your eyes as he slicked another few inches within your walls.

Your breath hitched, staring deeply into his eyes as your lips parted at how truly beautiful you found him. He clenched his teeth together, angling his hips forward and slowly pressing down into you while wincing back his pleasured cries of bliss. He wanted so desperately for this to feel as good for you as it did for him, but the way the pollen enhanced his every sense had his limbs on fire. As he inched his cock down to the base of his shaft, he sucked his cheeks into his teeth alongside his tongue and bit down exceptionally hard to keep his cum from spilling over immediately.

As you became accustomed to his width, you couldn’t help but sigh out a small mewl of pleasure at being filled by your captain into his ear. At that small hitched pitch of your voice, he began to rock his entire length within you as he groaned out a desperate cry of satisfaction.

Don’t you dare cum, you idiot. You’ve finally got what you wanted. You wanted this. Don’t you dare fuck it up. Don’t you dare cum-.

“-You c-can cum, Captain,” you whispered into his ear, placing a small kiss on the corner of his jaw, “You’ve waited so long, Bugs. I’m so proud of you. You can cum, baby. Cum for me.”

His breath hitched in his throat, his cock immediately responding to your guidance by snapping the tension within his stomach. His balls were pressed so tightly within his abdomen, almost swallowed within his stomach by how tight and desperate everything became. At that small whisper of praise from you, his orgasm crashed over him like a bolt of calculated lightning seeking him out as a conductor to direct the currant. Ribbons and ropes of hot and desperate strings of sticky cum shot from his tip to coat your walls with their lustful lubrication.

“O-Oh fuck. Fuck! F-FucK!-.. Nghh-... I’m cumming. I-I’m cumming! F-Fuck, baby. I-I’m-.. Hhah-...” He cried into your shoulder, his lips and teeth collecting your neck beneath his mouth and clenching down onto your flesh. You hissed at the contact, feeling the waves of pleasure he was experiencing coat your walls as you soothed over his shoulders with a gentle, but firm touch.

His slow thrusts came to a halt, completely sheathed within you as he rode through his high. The collection of arousal pooling at your thighs and coated his groin was surprising to the both of you at the culmination of the fluids. As his eyes drew downwards to the contact between your bodies, he gasped at how beautifully your body had taken him in. He was in awe that you would allow him to join with your body in this way, but guilty in the fact that he was the only one to claim pleasure from this encounter.

He quirked his head to the side, remaining fully sheathed within you and began rocking his hips a little. You gasped, feeling his lingering firmness within your core and brush with the underlayer of your clit while the top brushed with his pubic hair. He laughed with an almost sickening amount of glee.

“Would you look at that?” He managed to stutter out between the snapping of hips. He leant down towards you, hovering his lips just above your own, “I’m still hard.” He hummed thoughtfully, looking first to where your bodies were connected before darting his eyes back up to yours.

Looking up at him with partially shocked eyes, you felt the lubrication of his prior release grinding against his cock sheathed within your core. His soft and deep gyrations had an involuntary cry fall from your parted lips at the friction. Buggy’s eyes smiled as his lips broke into a crooked smile.

“Ohh,” he cooed down at you, “Ooh, you thought we were done, didn’t you?” He reached down to collect your thighs, hooking them over his hips and joining them at the ankles, “oh, sweetheart. You thought you could get away with ordering your captain to cum in you without consequence?”

He shifted his cock deeper within you, raking his hands at your thighs upwards to collect your ass beneath his wide fingers. You bit your bottom lip to halt a sound from leaving your lips, prompting Buggy’s teal eyes to look down at you and frown. He snapped his hips harder against you, slow and deliberate thrusts dragging at your walls with his cock and prying another muffled moan of desire from you.

He frowned further, drawing his face closer into you and almost brushing his lips with yours.

“Don’t you dare stop those pretty sounds from comin’ out,” he commanded you, eyes half-lidded and glazed over with desire. His throbbing cock was twitching within your fluttering walls, his groans of pleasure serenading you with his raspy tone gracing your ears, “Oh, Baby. Let me hear you. C’mon, now.”

You screamed at your eyes to remain fixed on the man above you; his own half-lidded expression being mirrored in your irises as your lips almost brushed. He continued slowly anchoring his hips in and out of your glistening entrance with your walls fluttering around him. You gasped as he wove his arms beneath you and hoisted you upwards. He rocked back to sit atop his calves, pulling you with him to sit atop his lap and braced himself fully flush with you.

With his arms hooked beneath you, he found the backs of your shoulders and braced you against his torso, breaking away his eye contact as his lips sucked on your neck. He gyrated his hips up into you, keeping you completely still and caged atop his lap as he rocked you. The new angle had your jaw slack and gasping silent cries and mewls of pleasure down into his ear.

“You were so chatty, baby,” he grunted against your neck, trailing his lips against your neck to your jaw, “Where did that go, huh?”

At that final taunt, you wove your hands into the back of his scalp and forced his neck back to look up at you. He gasped out a sighed groan, jaw clenching at your manhandling of his sensitive body. Grinning up at you with a grimaced lop-sided smile, he again taunted you: “Too embarrassed by me? Don’t want to have the infamous Clown-Captain make you cum?”

He picked up the pace, almost disregarding your hands within his hair as his thrusts became more desperate and unbridled. His playful eyes never broke away from your face, only leaving to glace at your breasts bouncing at eye level and shamelessly ogling them before finding your eyes once more. His hips began to stutter more, almost rhythmically in tune with your body as he felt your walls suck him in with their flutters.

“Not embarrassed, Cap,” you managed to gasp out, grinding down onto his cock. He squirmed beneath you, matching your circling and gyrating rhythm as he bucked up into you. “I’m just enjoying your voice.” You tugged back his hair tighter, his lips releasing a hissed sigh as you brought your lips down to suck on his neck. He continued rolling his hips upwards, allowing you to chase your release by circling and gyrating against him.

“P-Please,” He called in a voice above a whisper, “Please cum on my cock. I need you to cum on my cock, baby. I want you to use me like a toy. Your toy.” You whimpered against his neck, feeling the tightness in your abdomen increase to the center of your stomach. Your walls fluttered around his cock as he continued rocking you atop his lap.

“No,” He shook his head out of your grasp and bore his teal eyes into your own. He uncircled his arms from beneath your shoulders to his right wrapping around your stomach while the other cradled your jaw, “No I want to see it. I want to see you cum. I want to see the lights dance in your eyes as I rock you on my lap. I want to see your pleasure as you chase it, sliding your slick cunt over my cock. Please, please baby. Please cum for me.”

As his eyes locked on yours, you felt the twirl within the pit of your stomach finally release the band of pleasure within you. Every inch of your body burst with the tingles of your orgasm: the tips of your toes shivering within the vibrations of warmth and static up to your legs, thighs, abdomen, torso, neck and face. You were suffocated by the cry you released of his name pouring from your lips as you raked your hips over his lap, whimpering and moaning for him as you rode your high into blissful overstimulation.

Buggy had no idea when he began cumming, but he could feel you sucking every inch of his second release deep within you by the sturdy thumps of your glistening walls squeezing each drop from his quivering shaft. He cried for you, the sting of overstimulation balanced with ensuring you had truly finished allowing the waves of bliss to wash over you. He felt tethered to you, the only thing anchoring him down to this world as he serenaded your praises with the angels.

He released your jaw, circling his hand to the back of your head and pulling you down to touch your forehead with his. Your movements stilled, the only sounds resonating were the crashes of waves against the hull and the distant roars, snores and heavy-laden breathing of your crew sleeping and remaining blissfully unaware of what just occurred within the crows nest. Sighs and breaths between you passed as you greeted one another with warm, coy smiles.

“Did you learn your lesson, Captain?” you asked him with a small, sleepy giggle.

“I think so, Hun,” he replied with the same tone, the creases of his eyes holding both his charm and his playfulness within it, “‘You’ll always look after me when I do something stupid’ was the lesson, right?” You pursed your lips at him, no longer having the energy to fight with him and opting to place a small chaste kiss atop his round nose. He winced at the caress, but opted not to pull away once he saw your sleep-deprived expression.

“I’m just playing, Love,” he sighed into your face, still ghosting his lips over your own without fully committing to the kiss.

“I know, Cap,” you mumbled sleepily, pressing a soft and deep caress of your lips against his. He groaned against your lips as they finally met, holding firm against you as you angled your head to deepen the kiss. Breaking the dance of your lips intertwining, you leant back and smiled warmly at him, “But I will always look after you when you do something stupid.”

“Oh good,” he sighed in relief, a broad and brilliant smile drawing itself against his lips as he hardened his resolve, “Because all I've learnt is nobody can do this like you can.”

#one piece #opla #opla fic #one piece live action #x reader #captain buggy #buggy fic #buggy pollen #pollen fic #buggy #buggy x reader #afab reader #buggy smut #buggy pollen smut #buggy the clown x reader #op smut #buggy x you

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forsworned · 13 days

Note

That Keegan post you made had me clutching my PEARLS! Your use of words was so masterfully done! I really loved the new vocab I learned while reading your work.

Your depiction of the relationship was also so so nice. Very loving and attentive and just so sweet. I could tell they loved one another and had already established boundaries that they knew they shouldn’t cross. The ending was lovely as well, a great way to tie things up.

Thank you for writing it! I’m excited to see what else your lovely brain comes up with!

-🧢

Whispers in the Woods: A Stranger's Shelter ft. OfftheGridCowboy!Keegan Russ

Sypnosis: When Keegan finds you petrified, running for your life from creatures unknown to you in the Haunted Appalachia trails after sundown, he takes you in for the night. Things get a bit crazy...

Warning(s): Mentions of Sexual Content, Violence, Petnames (?), Blood, Supernatural Horror (?), Eventual Smut, Barely Proofread, Reader is 28 and Keegan is 30, Reader is also AFAB

Word Count: 7.5k (enjoy keegan lovers ;)

Author's note: Blue cap anon thank you so much for inspiring me to write for Keegan. Honestly, I really love how this fic turned out and I hope you do too. I am so sorry I took so long to reply to you but you seriously warmed my heart so sosososo much when I read your message. I did not mean to put you on the back burner for this long/ Just know I have put so much effort into this to provide you a solid work so I hope that is a good enough excuse to have such a delayed response. Also so glad that you learned some new words LOL that really tickles me tbh, but I want to work more with the relationship that reader builds with Keegan in general or with any character x reader I write. So please enjoy this :)

edit: i think it's lowkey not living up to my expectations but ummm fuck it we ball

Sparks fly as the firewood in the pit crackles, casting an orange ember over you and the stranger sitting in front of you. His eyes, reminiscent of the cool, blueness of winter are lingering on you, and his heavy, leather jacket drapes over your shoulders to shield you from the chilliness of the early April evening. With his black cowboy hat slightly tilted upward, you note the black bandana covering most of his face, adding an air of mystery to his appearance.

"You really shouldn't be out here." His voice edges a precarious tone, though you cannot determine if it's toward you or whatever lurks in the abysmal woods. Maybe it was both. Your fingers curl around the distressed tanned hide, fiddling with the stitching of the material. A shudder careens through the columns of your spine, goosebumps trail over your skin, and the fuzz across your neck rises briefly.

"Don't look. Don't even acknowledge it." He instructs, steadying his gaze on you as he tinkers with the butterfly knife in his gloved hand. "W-what?" You gasp out, eyes reaming as your quivering vision sets on the embers of the pyre. A sinister presence harks over your convulsing body, heart palpitating out of your tightening sternum. But as soon as it arrives it departs and you're left heaving for the oxygen that was stripped from your lungs.

"I'm not gonna ask you again, what are you doin' walkin' around aimlessly in these mountains?" He repeatedly latches and unlatches the metal object in his hands, his gaze fixates on you. Truthfully, you were lost. When the engine of the old Dodge that you inherited from your grandfather abruptly cut out as you passed through a dead zone, it was all hauling ass from there on out. Classic damsel in distress situation.

Your father and he had both warned you about the Appalachian mountains. How apex predators inhabited the woods, preying on the innocent, ripping flesh apart on sight, or disappearing into the ghastly woods to never return. But, of course, you wrote it off as fearmongering. Never had you experienced the soul-crushing, harrowing existence of unidentified, cryptids lurking within the lacunas of the evergreens.

"My truck it—" You start to say, but the sound of him exhaling loudly cuts you off and you glance up at him with misery strewn across your features. Doe-eyes glimmering from the wetness that was welling in your oculars as your lips tremble. He outstretches his arm to the lantern on the perched log, "I've heard enough."

He begins to get up, extinguishing the flame, smothering it with what seemed to be a bag of salt and you felt fear creeping back into your system.

"Come on." As the pyre's embers fade, the lantern's switch emits a squeak, coaxing the oil flame to life, while the blood-curdling shrieks send shivers down your spine, ringing in your ears. And as if on cue, you cling to his side and he lets out a soft huff, feeling your arm coil around his.

The inferno acts as a bulwark from whatever is skulking around the both of you in the obscurity of the night as you move through the forest. You catch glimpses of shadows trekking about, seemingly running away from you now. A stark contrast from the previous frantic sprint through the woods in your petite, white frilly prairie dress that was now tattered at the edges and puffy sleeves. Now, you were safe. At least you certainly hope so.

A tiny light enters your line of sight in the distance, and you can only assume that that is his home. But you were still heeding the noises and images being molded in front of human eyes. It was as if the veil was lifted here, a supernatural existence in the vast mountains and woods of the Appalachia. You don't know whether to be terrified or fascinated, but you keep quiet as he silently leads you down the desire path to his home that is etching itself a little more into the horizon.

Approaching the home, you begin to notice the clandestine features of the house. A zephyr sweeps past you and the distinct smell of lavender and sage gently brims into your senses. You visibly shudder as the steps creak under your weight, your arm remains tucked into his own as he fishes out his keys and unlocks the door. Like a gentleman, he gestures to allow you in first and he follows closely behind, shutting it behind him.

"Shoes off at the door." He directs, treading past you as he tosses another piece of firewood into the lit fireplace.

What the fuck?

Is he just not going to acknowledge the paranormal manifestation that incurred upon them just now? The shadows of unearthly skinwalkers who infest the woods, who are prowling out there now as they barricade themselves from the outside? What is stopping them from forcefully intruding into his home?

You finally catch your breath for a moment, still feeling your heart hammering against your chest before you speak. "Are we not going to talk about what we just saw?"

"Nope." He simply replies, from another room and you blink back in surprise. Then it sinks in.

Of course, how could you forget? How can you forget the rules of the Appalachia, that were engrained into you as a child?

If you see something strange in the wilderness, no, you didn't.

If you hear something call your name, no, you didn't.

If you hear screaming in the Appalachian mountains, especially a woman's scream, no, you didn't.

If you feel something stalking you, do not run.

Never, ever, whistle at night.

Never go into the woods at night.

Never leave your windows open at night, even in the summer and honestly, the list dragged on and on and on.

Most of it falls on deaf ears never believing in the legends, and yet, here you are shaken up by things you never thought existed in a stranger's home who found it in his heart to shelter you until what you suppose would be dawn.

A wavering breath escapes you as you take a long gander at the well-maintained colonial home. The timeless and heirloom quality of the home becomes evident upon analyzing the vast array of paintings and framed photographs adorning the walls, each depicting individuals with strikingly similar features—dark brows, thick lashes, and mesmerizing steely blue eyes that seemed to penetrate your soul. You can't quite make out the framed artwork through your muzzy vision, but it's eerie the way you can't quite pinpoint why the face was so recognizable to you.

Exposed wooden ceiling beams motion your eyes to the inherited items and the mounted deer skull above the hearth. The warmth emanating from it felt different, soothing, lulling your quivery limbs. You oblige and kick off your boots, padding behind him as he draws out his gun from his holster and places it on the mahogany table. He removes his cowboy hat, hanging it on the horseshoe hat rack adjacent to the fireplace revealing his tousled short black locks. As he begins to unmask himself, a small gasp leaves your lips, fixating on his newly exposed features. And he was goddamn handsome and unusually reminiscent of someone from your childhood embarked into the backlogs of your memory, but of course, you brush it off.

And although he hears it, he does not acknowledge it as one hand grips the wooden chair and the other runs over his dark stubble. He's pensive. The last thing he needed was some heretic woman living under his roof for Lord knows how long. At this point, he decides that you are his responsibility and he cannot shirk from that for that would be unbecoming of a man like himself and he was raised better than that.

He glances up at the painting of his father above the hearth and you take note of the reflective state. His daddy was the embodiment of a Cowboy. Gentlemanly, charming, nifty, and always genial, providing the best hospitality a person could provide. No way, he'd accept Keegan kicking you to the curb, leaving you out for those creatures to rip you apart. Plus, his father would simply rise from his grave and kick his ass.

"You hungry?" He pays no mind to your lingering, bewitched eyes as he moves to the kitchen and you like a lost puppy trailing behind him. "Got some leftover potato leek soup."

And as if on cue, your stomach growls and he glances at your hand over your tummy. You flush from the embarrassment of your stomach being that raucous. He cocks a brow at you and you can't tell if he's amused or annoyed. Probably both. "Go sit." He points his chin to the table by the fireplace and you pad back to the living room, the tempering sensation of the flames causes you to become drowsy. You loll your head to analyze his stature. His figure towers over all of the antique appliances in the kitchen, muscles flexing as he prepares to reheat the soup on the stove. Rolling up his sleeves to reveal his taut, tanned forearms to open the cabinet and pull out the loaf of handmade sourdough, slicing it evenly and efficiently before tossing it in the toaster.

His form becomes a bit hazy as you lay your head against the top rail of the chair, mesmerized by the allure of his broadened shoulders, and soft pink lips that all by hide the peeking tongue indicating his concentration in preparing you a homecooked meal. Keegan never has guests over, in fact, no one is ever daft enough to come running around this way anyways because locals know better and tourists are too scared shitless to even enter this part of the Appalachia. He likes it like that, away from everything and everyone, being able to maintain his family's ranch that was inherited by him at the ripening age of 18.

His mother moved out to the suburbs because the death of his father was far too devasting on her already weary soul to continue living her days out on the farm. But Keegan doesn't mind it. He handles the livestock with ease, providing care to the birthing cattle, and maintaining the operations of the facilities as a whole to keep his honest living thriving. It's all in a good day's work for him. So caring after you shouldn't be too much of a hassle right?

You're suddenly awoken to the soft clatter of the bowl being set on the wooden table, the savory aroma of potato leek soup, and freshly toasted sourdough bread. He sets a glass of water beside you before he pulls his seat adjacent to you with his food.

"Eat." He orders, waiting for you to take a spoonful of thick soup. You hesitantly lift the spoon before glancing up at him. He blinks back at you, realizing the weight of his indiscretion, and whisks the soup with his spoon before noshing on it as if to tell you that is not poisoned nor drugged. Your other hand takes the bread in between your fingers and he mirrors your actions, claiming a bite from his own and you visibly relax.

The soup is scalding to the touch, but you welcome the sensation when you get a taste of the heavenly whipped soup. Not a single lump, just the smoothest, most savory supping of such a simple hearty soup instantly heartening your disconcerting body right down to your unsteady hand.

"I'll fix your truck as soon as dawn breaks." He flashes a glance before breaking his bread and scooping it into his soup. "Make yourself comfortable in the guest bedroom." He gestures with his hand to the upstairs.

"Oh, I couldn't—" You begin to say, but he will have none of it.

"You're not going out there until the sun's out." He replies simply, as he lifts his glass of water and sips from it. You observe the way his Adam's apple oscillates under his stubbly throat and you swallow thickly when you realize he's gazing at you keenly.

Warmth spreads to your cheeks and your eyes are now following the pattern of the wood grain. "That's…very kind of you."

"'s just the human thing to do." And there is an emphasis on the word 'human'.

You begin to play with your soup, scooping it up and letting it fall back into the bowl. "Right." Your voice is soft as you try to block out the memory just moments ago.

He narrows his eyes as if to study you. "What's your name?"

You glance up at him, and you're almost a bit hesitant to tell him. You almost want to lie, but you decide otherwise. "[Name], and yours?"

"Keegan."

"Keegan what?" You press. He raises a brow at you as he chews on his bread.

"Russ."

Russ. An esteemed surname that was echoed throughout your household during your adolescence. Presley Russ was a handsome and genial man who appeared at your father's porch steps every so often, tipping his hat at you with that charming smile and those glacial hues that made your heart jump. He'd invite your daddy out for nights at the rodeo or sipping on Highland Gaelic Ales on the porch from the afternoon til midnight, biding his time between Maryland and North Carolina.

You never quite caught glimpses of his son when you were living out on the ranch before you moved out for college, but you did remember a time when you ventured out past sunset in the abandoned village in the Black Hills you knew better than to be in when your daddy had to travel to Wheaton for the grand opening of his old buddy, Presley's restaurant accompanied by his reclusive son who you never remembered the name of. But for God's sake, who was stupid enough to go treading alone around the same location as the filming of the Blair Witch Project?

But you were a skeptic at best until you heard the unrelenting repetition of your name being called which led you astray, causing you to stumble over your own feet and ultimately collide with a rock that rendered you unconscious. Soon enough, you felt yourself being carried back to your home in the arms of the Russ boy with the hardened steely gaze that intently stared down at the knot forming on your forehead. You had never shut your eyes so quickly and the sound of his soft chuckle, caused you to be even more embarrassed as you were being handed off to your worried parents who were more than relieved and thankful to have retrieved you.

Of course, you had to act like you were unconscious. It was already humiliating enough that you were old enough to know better, but being ferried by a cute boy like you were some helpless damsel in distress was just mortifying.

But that was long forgotten by you in hazy summer days during your teen years before you went off to college and moved out into the city. In reality, you had written it off as a dream, a hallucination concocted by that vivid and graphic imagination of yours. That was always the case with you and the Appalachia. Always the non-believer.

But part of you was hoping that maybe he didn't recognize you after all this time, and yet the way he is staring you down is beginning to feel like otherwise.

"Blair." He suddenly says matter-of-factly as he taps his finger at the table and nods again. "Blair." A small toothy grin creeps on his lips before he chuckles.

Your eyes reaming as your heart drops to your stomach. "What?"

"Black Hills, you're the daughter of the farmer right up in Garrett County."

You feel the warmth blooming on your cheeks. He knew. "I—How do you remember that?"

"Knew you looked familiar." He dives back into his steaming soup. "Was tryin' to figure out where I'd seen that necklace of yours." He juts his chin, pointing to the family heirloom that kisses your clavicle. It had been passed down for generations to the women in your family as a symbol of health, wisdom and longetivity. You feel for the 20k gold pendant with lilac and sage engraved into the soft metal.

He looks as if he's stifling another snicker. "Think you pissed yourself a little when I found you unconscious."

Now that gets you real flared up. The abrupt change in mood was beginning to wrack your nerves. You sigh knowing that at the very least you were in good hands. Familiarity begins to set in as he breaks the ice, creating a more comfortable atmosphere between you two.

"I did not!" You puff your cheeks out at him and he's tickled pink by your endearing, agitated reactions.

His gleeful grin only grows to his eyes. "Now, who willing goes into the woods by themselves when they know damn well what kind of activity breeds over there, hm? Gotta death wish if you ask me, kid."

You open your mouth to say something, but it clamps shut. You don't know whether to be abashed by the way his face lights up like the stars in the heavens above, or by the fact that he remembers that you pissed yourself a little through your favorite pair of khaki parachute shorts in a known marked area where people have gone missing. The stark realization of it being a tangible memory was mussing at your trepidation towards him. But he's teasing you now and it stirs a strange kind of desire in your lower belly as you uncomfortably shift in your creaky wooden seat.

Pushing your bowl away, you avoid responding by guzzling down your water and then calmly placing it back down.

"I'd like to get ready for bed now, if you don't mind."

He jovially raises his eyebrows as he munches on the last of his bread. The smirk still curled up on the corners of his pinkened lips.

He wipes the crumbs off his hands and thumbs either side of his mouth before he gets up, gesturing to you. " 'Course not."

You stand up and politely push your chair in as you track behind him up the croaking staircase. Your body is practically heaving with every step and by the top of it, you're feeling a bit winded. Keegan decides to keep his comments to himself as he ushers you down the grandiose hallway. The walls are painted ivory, and wall sconces are tapered candles on held-up aged tin nailed into the parapet. Hardwood floors are well kept, but the small divots in between the grain quickly reveal the age.

He jingles the knob to what you suppose is the guest bedroom, but it seems to be locked. His fingers fish into his pocket and you watch as he phalanges through the set and then finally picks out the antiquated rusty skeleton key. It's honestly a bit jarring that it requires a key to fasten the door, but at this point, if you're being kept away from the monsters lurking outside you'd be happy to be his little prisoner for now.

He pushes the door and it moans open, though much to your surprise it's polished and orderly. In the middle of the room is a wooden four-poster queen-sized bed, with a princess-like sheer white canopy that surreptitiously envelops the bed. The furniture is a bit more romantic with detailed carved patterns on the bookshelves that line up against the wall to the vanity that sat adjacent to the bed. The carmine curtains that drape over the large window, easily maneuver you to the balcony, and the soft calling of your name beckons you to open it…

A sturdy hand clasps over your shoulder and you jolt as you turn to him. He's shaking his head as he towers over you and you look so goddamn feeble with those damn bambi eyes of yours shimmering in the tiny sliver of moonlight that peeks out from the window. He tears his gaze away to tread over to the window, squeezing it shut with the velcro he sewed into the fabric and reinforces the window shut.

A sharp exhale leaves his nostrils and his eyes are on you again. "I totally can see why you ended up the way you did." He glimpses over your dirtied and frayed dress, skinned, bloodstained knees, and contusions running up and down your legs. God, he makes it so easy to feel self-conscious.

He licks his lips as he hovers his hand over the knob to his right, and signals you over. You begrudgingly stride over and you're just as impressed at the bathroom. From the massive mirror above the traditional wooden undermount double sink vanity to the wine-red clawfoot freestanding bathtub. Little golden trinkets pinstripe the rosy walls with the soft warm lighting of the hanging flowery ceiling light fixtures. You squint your eyes when he adjusts the radiance to a white glow with the dimmer light switch before he opens the drawers one by one.

"Towels, robes, spare clothes, toiletries. Gimme a shout if you need anything else."

You open your mouth to say something and his eyes playfully narrow at you. "—within reason, missy."

Your bottom lip reflexively juts out. You hate to admit it, but you were quite the spoiled child. Never receiving more than a gentle chide from your parents and always silver-spooned to the nines by your grandparents. The truck was an exception. More of a parting gift from your grandfather that was left to you for the sole purpose of memorabilia scored into every inch of the tarnished vehicle. You hope that Keegan is capable of fixing it since most parts were made by discontinued distributors and they were definitely not easy to come by as they were expensive.

"Christ, spoiled rotten, weren't ya?" He ribs, nudging you a bit and you frown at him.

"Was not." You childlessly retort, but the small smile on your face betrays your feeble attempt at contempt.

Fuck, she is so cute. Keegan thinks as he assimilates your hilly yet winsome appearance. Just as cute as he remembers when he was seventeen, ignorant of the malignancy that poisoned his father's lungs.

"Not as much as your daddy spoiled you." You shoot back and cover your mouth with your hands as his brows lift in half surprise and half revelry.

"Blair's got jokes now, huh?" The elicitive nickname indicative of your former years sends another rushing warmth to your face and you begin to shoo him out.

"I'd really like to be clean now, thank you." You cast a scowl his way and he's putting his hands up in surrender as he backs out of the bathroom followed by the bedroom.

"I take it that the lady needs her privacy now." He leans against the doorframe with his hands stuffed into his denim jean pockets that are dusty and darkened with wood ash and the smell of the campfire lingers on his skin.

"And her beauty sleep." You add on, folding your arms. His jacket is still resting over your shoulders and he chuckles at your Hello Kitty print socks. The way your hair was mussed up in the soft glow of the lantern lamp on the night table was starting to arouse him a bit.

Fuckkkkkk, you were so adorable. It might have taken every atom in his body not to bend you over the mattress and spank you for being such a dotty woman before pressing his cock past your velvety folds as he makes you apologize in the form of incoherent, dirty little whimpers.

But the thought is quickly dismissed as it's formed in the sullied cogitations of his mind.

"Good night, [name]." He murmurs in his husky voice yet there is a hint of mischief in his tone that sends a frisson up your spinal column.

"Good night, Keegan." You susurrate, as you slowly shut the door and his expression remains the same as your view of him narrows until it disappears behind the threshold.

"Christ." You mutter to yourself as you begin to get ready for bed, as you feel the rush of collywobbles in your stomach start to well up a craving for the cowboy. The time on your cracked phone screen reads 2:03 AM and a wave of exhaustion crashes over you at the realization. Had you really been out there for seven hours?

The warm water soothes your aching bones and forming scabs scattered across your body as you gently exfoliate your skin. Thankfully, Keegan had enough sense to drop off a first aid kit by your door before you slipped into the bath. You weren't looking forward to the sting of the antiseptic, but you were more than grateful to be alive and have all your limbs attached. As you close your eyes and let the sudsy bath take away your worries, a coaxing voice is entrancing you. At first, it begins as a hushed lull intermingled with what sounds like your name and a bit of white noise that makes your brain all fuzzy and warm, but it becomes audible. Forming coherent luring words that resemble Keegan's deep, raspy voice.

Drown, drown, drown.

And you promptly find yourself submerging into the tub and the stillness of the water is subduing, but something is instigating you to open your eyes. You push away the thought, taking in the tranquility, settling into the comforting sensation of weightlessness. And yet, the feeling is not leaving you. You internally sigh as you move your body to the surface, but you remain dormant. Your eyes shoot open and your blood runs cold.

Above is one of the most fear-inducing creatures that you have ever laid your eyes upon holding you down on either side of your shoulders with slender claws digging into your flesh. It resembles a caribou skull with elongated antlers but its eyes were a violent vermillion that penetrates your soul. Its body was dark, rickety, and harrowing. Bones astute against the matted onyx fur and its tongue hanging out of his jaw like it was ready to devour you. Panic surges through your veins as you thrash about but it drives its talons further into your skin and you shriek out in pain. Water enters your lungs, your heart is stammering at cardiac arrest speed and you're choking out for dear life. This is it. This is how you die and the worst part about it is, you couldn't even call out for hope from the man who saved you just moments ago.

But just as you're accepting your fate, the muffled sound of a gunshot pierces through the air and within seconds the skinwalker is incapacitated and then dead. Soon enough, you're being hoisted out by Keegan's strong hands, as you cling onto him naked, wet, and heaving for oxygen.

Water expels out from your esophagus and you're trembling even harder than you were before when he found you, grasping to him and he's immediately talking you down.

"It's alright, you're okay. You're okay." He soothes, one hand tenderly caressing your soddened hair and the other is gripping your body tight as he pulls you out of the tub. He wastes no time unplugging the drain and wrapping you in a large towel to cover your naked body. In all seriousness, Keegan didn't even take a second to gander at your naked form when he was gathering you out of the tub and he makes that clear that his sole objective was to eliminate the wendigo that trespassed into your sanctuary.

He could've sworn that he had locked up every single opening in the house as he does every single night. It was like clockwork to him ever since his father had shown him the ropes to the place.

"…Kee-keegan." You splutter out as you continue to clutch onto him and your body is saturating him with water. He doesn't care though, that was the least of his worries. Your eyes are reaming and glossy as you dare to peek down at the creature that was seconds away from letting you meet your maker, but there's nothing but ash on the tiled floor.

"It was—" You begin, peering up at his harking steely eyes and his jaw tightens.

"It's gone."

"I don't understand." You shake your head, trying to make sense of what just happened, but the soft clatter of the rifle hitting the bathroom counter delineates your scattered mind. "Oh. But—"

"Get dressed." He softly prompts and you shakily let go of his t-shirt and he hands you an eggshell-colored peignoir as he averts his gaze. He's cognizant of the post-distress and panic you're in, so makes no indication of reallocating himself away from you as you slip on the fabric nor does he provide an explanation for what just occurred.

And to be honest, you didn't want to know. There was nothing more disturbing than the encounter with death in the form of a mutated caribou that leaves you shaken up. Everything just seemed too difficult to wrap your little head around, so let him take care of you.

A fresh towel is on your head, soaking up the wetness tangled into your hair and you relax at his balmy touch.

"Thank you." You mutter as your eyes are cast downward, eyeing the imbued, darkened spots on his nightshirt.

He delicately hooks his index finger and thumb between your chin and lifts it upward as he dabs at your features with the towel. And then it lingers. His intense yet pensive gaze, his stout calloused thumb that is now brushing against your jaw shortly followed by your quivering bottom lip. His jaw ticks.

"I'll sleep in here tonight."

Your heart jumps rampantly against your chest. "What?"

"You almost died if it weren't for me."

"Yes, but it's not—!" You fall short of words yet again and you're tearing your gaze away from him. As dire as the situation was (and it was), Keegan cannot help himself from being just the tiniest bit entertained by your endearing little mannerisms.

"I'm not gonna sleep next to you in bed." He deadpans. Normally, he would let you stumble over your words, but exhaustion is seeping into his bones and even as a noceur himself he was in desperate need of some z's. "The armchair over there quite comfy."

You follow his eyes to the brown leather recliner that was beside the bed and then back to him.

"I'm tired, Keegan." You profess, leaning your head against his chest and he's absentmindedly rubbing circles into the small of your back.

"I know."

Typically, you wouldn't be this comfortable with a stranger but given the unusual circumstances that were currently trying to slaughter your ass, you found yourself seeking solace in him.

"Let's get you into bed."

And soon he's leading you back to the bedroom, his hand is still on the small of your back as you walk on wobbly legs. He peels off the comforter and you sink into the mattress feeling like royalty in your crisp, clean nightgown, in your large princess-like bed, surrounded by plush pillows as the light in the lantern flickers. It casts shadows over his dashing features. The flame turns his glacial eyes into a soft apricot and an expression flickers over his visage—concern.

He's harping over your safety and the intruder that happened to bypass his heavily guarded home. No tripped wires, no movement detected on his cameras, and not to mention not a single sound was made until he heard your thrashing in his room across the hall. If he hadn't been there in time—

"You saved me, though." You drone, shutting your eyes as you tuck yourself into the cotton sheets.

His hardened glare softens at your words and how you look at ease now. A testament to your full, unshakeable faith in him. God, you were so quick to trust, it honestly scared him a little for you.

He scoffs. "How can you be so sure that I wouldn't hurt you?"

"Because your father would resurrect and beat the absolute shit out of you if you even dared to think about harming me." You state with a sly smirk on your face.

Keegan's expression briefly falters before he lets out a snicker, acknowledging the truth in your bold proclamation. "Crafty little critter, aren't ya?"

You giggle as shift under the sheets. It's almost a bit disturbing how you are seemingly fine and brushing off the situation. "Maybe."

He peers down at you for a moment and the welcoming feeling of your radiance starts to crawl into his chest. Almost like you were right where you needed to be, in his home, in his bed under his safeguarding. He wants nothing more than that. It's almost a bit perturbing how you are seemingly fine.

"Go to sleep." You mumble.

"You go to sleep."

"No, you first,"

"Who else is going to shield you against creatures of the night?"

You pause for a moment. "Good point."

He smiles as he walks over to the armchair, gun propped up against his left leg as he sits to face you. You're already curling up in a ball, and your chest rises and falls at a tranquil pace.

"Good night, Blair." He feels his eyes drooping as his vision becomes bleary.

You chuckle at the idiotic nickname. "Good night, Cowboy."

The remnants of tiny, foolish smiles are left on your faces as you drift off to sleep in your respective spaces. The last passing thought that crosses your mind is Keegan's tender gaze and his fingers brushing against your lips. Keegan wonders what is making you so giddy before the world around him fades out.

As morning breaks, sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a gentle glow on the room. The spring breeze wafts into the wisps of your hair and your eyes flutter open. The seat in front of you is now empty and the balcony door is wide open, and yet you're calm as you rise out of bed. Birds are chirping and the incessant droning of cicadas buzzing loudly against your eardrums is merely white noise when you recognize the low rumble of your truck's engine pulling up. There is an urgency that surges within you and soon you're sprinting out the door, and the heat of the cobblestone stings at the soles of your feet but you don't care.

The engine cuts and Keegan climbs out of the truck, sleeves rolled up in his army green henley, and he's wearing a clean pair of relaxed, light-wash jeans that skim the leather of his Tecovas. He peers up at you with wintry hues, tipping his hat, and in that instant, you're transported back to your childhood—Mr. Russ, tipping his hat with those same eyes and that glorious smile that always made your heart race.

The resemblance was both striking and uncanny, but damn, you were totally not complaining.

"Mornin', little lady. You're up quite early." He puts his hands on his hips and he's no longer the stone-faced, vendetta-filled Cowboy that you met last night. He's your friendly Appalachian Cowboy who provides you the sweet, sweet southern hospitality with a charming smile and a bit of a North Carolinian twang that sets your groins on fire.

"Mornin', Cowboy. Fixed my truck, did you?" You lean against the French iron wrought railing with your ruffled hair and white nightgown, rippling in the slight draft that carries the healing scent of sage and lavender. The fabric forms around your body and Keegan notices how it traces the outline of your curves and how the sun is hitting you just perfect enough for you to look like a literal angel.

But it's still the unrelenting, disconcerting feeling that creeps up on him when he looks up at you so unbothered, airheaded with that buoyant grin on your face. Was it really just a facade?

"Fixed it good enough for you to get back on your way." He turns from you to the truck and then back to you. "By the way, where were you headed?"

"Back to the old man." You cross your leg over the other, waiting for his response. He watches as the skin of your legs peeks out from under the peignoir and it's a bit enticing.

"I didn't contact him if that's what you're askin'" His hand acts like a sun visor to block the light out of his sensitive eyes to take a good gander at you.

"I would hope not. Don't need to send him into cardiac arrest." You joke and you see his shoulders shaking a bit, suggesting a chuckle.

"Made you breakfast."

"Yeah?" You simper, leaning a little more against the railing.

He can't help the way his grin broadens as he peers up at your flirty form. "Careful now, can't have you comin' back home with a broken neck, can we?"

Shit. Shit. Shiiiiit.

Goddamn him and his pretty face. He's already heading inside as you're locking in on him, but Keegan isn't one to give you the satisfaction. He'll play the long game and he'll enjoy every minute of it. From the way you're sitting next to him at the table with your dress bunched up to your thighs to the way you sensually lick your spoon covered with cream and he's internally chuckling at the mess you've made on the corners of your lips, feigning gullibility to get a rise out of him. Admittedly, it's hot. He wants nothing more than to lick your fingers clean and sloppily kiss your sweet cream-laden lips.

Mmmm.

He doesn't say anything. Just enjoys his breakfast and keeps his gaze lowered like a gentleman. The company of a beautiful woman is enough for him on a fine Sunday morning like this.

You can only wonder what he's thinking as you act like a giddy schoolgirl who's trying to get the attention of her professor. Not that you had a significant age gap with Keegan, but in his original line of work there was a massive lapse. Being a retired Marine had probably mentally aged him over give or take 10 years would have been your best guess. And leaving the farm to his cousins in his absence probably impacted him even more, well, according to your gossip girl of a father at least.

He made trips down to NC every so often to check on his favorite, reclusive cowboy, sometimes tending to his facilities when need be. You never tagged along though. In your mind, you were a city girl who didn't mind dressing up as a cowgirl if she saw fit. So coming down from your city job, in the comfort of your sweet loft that overlooked the NOVA skyline didn't exactly make you miss the Appalachia trails.

Still, it is nice being back here with a somewhat familiar stranger in a home you had only seen the outside of because, for the majority of your life, you had so desperately tried to force out the rural in you. Call it toxic, but leaving the mountains always felt like the haze had lifted from your brain. It was unsettling to be here for too long.

"You're nervous."

You glance up from the runny eggs that you have been working on for the past twenty minutes. You give him a sheepish grin. "This place makes me nervous."

"Itching to go back to the city, huh?"

That elicits a small chuckle from you. "And what do you know about me?"

"Well, according to your father," He says in a knowing tone and you narrow your eyes at him as he gives you a coy smile. "you love the city too much to move back."

"I don't think I'm too good for it. Here, I mean."

"Didn't say that. The Appalachia isn't for everyone." He butters his toast and then munches on it and soon it vanishes into his mouth. The night before is washed away from your memory, but Keegan loses track of his thoughts as he stares at the leftover jagged lines embedded into your skin from a creature that he knew you wanted to forget. A glance at his watch and he's up, wiping his hands and mouth with the serviette that was on his lap before he places it on the table. "You ready?"

"You got somewhere to be?" You raise your brows, not quite ready to leave yet.

"Matter o'fact I gotta date with an employee from Tractor Supply Co in about an hour, and it's thirty minutes out."

"New livestock?" You sip at your coffee.

A sad smile graces his lips. "Yeah, my last eldest cattle just passed away a few weeks ago."

You frown. "I'm sorry."

For a moment you swear you saw him get teary-eyed, but he quickly shakes himself out of the grief, grabbing his keys as he downs his glass of ice water. He stops himself for a moment as you get up to push your chair in and he can't help himself from tracing his fingers over the claw marks on either side of your shoulders. You shudder from the remembrance and his touch.

"[name]," He starts to express but your mood sours.

"Stop."

His expression falters and so does his hand as he lets it drop to his side. You didn't want to remember any of it. He notices how you clutch onto your necklace and he drops the subject.

"Your trucks waiting." He takes your hand and deposits the keys into your palm.

You give him a tight-lipped smile. "Thank you."

You begin to approach your truck and you feel relief washing over you as you run your hand over the tarnished, rusted hood of the Dodge before you open the driver door. As you climb in you notice that all your belongings remain untouched. Scattered cassette tapes, polaroids, and the little Hawaiian girl that swayed with every movement still plastered onto the dash. The leather seats seem to have abrasions, revealing the cushion beneath, but you write it off as a bear maybe deciding to try and access your vehicle after you had abandoned it.

"…[name], ….[name]….!"

You're snapped out of your stupor, recollecting your thoughts as you glance over at him leaning his body against your truck. "I checked the vehicle, it's all clear for you to go. Should make it back alright."

"Why wouldn't it be if you fixed the engine?"

The look you give him is blank, free from concern and any worry that may have been left on your face from last night.

He nods, pushing his hands into his jean pockets. "Right, well, it was nice seeing you all grown up."

That provokes a reaction. Heat is rising to your cheeks and Keegan is standing there looking cool as ever as he takes off his hat and wipes the sweat off his brow before putting it back on.

"Thank you." You say with more feeling, only your eyes acknowledging the horrors of last night. And that's enough for Keegan.

"You take care now." He tips his hat with a good-natured grin and you snicker at his little cowboy bit.

He waves to you as you back out of his driveway and you glance over from your rearview mirror as his towering figure disappears and so does any anamnesis from the evening prior. Or at least, you told yourself that.

And that was April. Months have gone by and Keegan doesn't exactly expect you to keep in contact. He's even surprised to hear a, '[name], says hello, by the way.' from your father during their weekly check-in.

And he definitely does not expect to see your truck in his driveway when he's coming back from milking his cows for the day with his new set of eyes that's in dog form, wagging her tail in anticipation as she sits.

"German Shepherd, eh? Suits you." You simper at him, leaning against the pillar of his home with glossy lips, and a cutesy red paisley swing dress that just barely covers your thighs. Your boots are hardly broken in as they dig into the grassy field and your hair is a little disheveled in an endearing way.

"Name's Miley." He peels off his gloves, shoving them into his back pocket. He's completely taken aback by your sudden presence, though he's not one to complain about a pretty lady showing up at his door.

"Hey, Miley." You coo, holding your hand to her and she's immediately reciprocating your energy tenfold as she jumps up and down, causing you to giggle and pet her soft fur.

Keegan doesn't even need to say anything as he glances down at the German Shepherd and she's already sitting on the ground between you two.

"Miss me?" You ask, coyly.

"Could ask you the same thing, Blair." He tilts his head to the side, eyeing you suspiciously. Something was off.

"I was just in town."

"Uh huh."

It doesn't take long before the act drops and distress is carving into your features. Lips are trembling in fear as your eyes begin to water.

"Something's been following me, Keegan." Your body naturally falls against his chest and his breath hitches a bit at your contact and the smell of your perfume wafts into his senses.

Fuck.

mini taglist: @keegansshark @soapsgf @milkteaarttime

#call of duty #call of duty imagines #keegan p russ #keegan p russ x reader #keegan russ x reader #keegan russ smut #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #cod ghosts #call of duty ghosts #call of duty smut #keegan x reader #cod keegan #keegan russ #keegan smut #eventual smut #alternate universe #cod au

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andtheyreonfire · 2 months

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mm thinking about giants playing nice. be it a giant alien, an experimentee with a new size, or even just like your average 100' cryptid. watching as tiny humans crawl across their hands, dutifully keeping them still as they poke and prod at the flesh. humoring demands to be measured, or to sit, or to pick up a car and hear a chorus of amazement around them. trying not to look bored at how toy-sized everything is, to pluck the tiny human(s) out of the crowd they thought looked genuinely entertaining. keeping silent as some leader or another prattles off threats and demands. they don't point out how the weapons surrounding them would hurt little more than a tickle, but they do "accidentally" knock over one of the bigger ones with a "careless" movement. they'll comply, play fetch, whatever...until they find a more amusing option, of course.

#g/t #giant/tiny #sci-fi g/t #i'm so tired dawg i just wanna make tumblr posts like a normal person #plague i'm sorry for formatting every post i make off of your stuff i feel like i should pay u royalties

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cuubism · 8 months

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cozy times at hob's cafe [pt. 8 of the adventures of hob, "normal" cafe owner, and dream, bookstore cryptid]

lil bit smutty under the readmore

If he and Dream ever break up, Hob is definitely going to have to close up shop here and move to the other side of the country. He’s gotten so used to looking up from the till to the sight of Dream cozied up with a book and coffee in the corner that if he stopped having that it would probably break his heart.

As it is, he does have that. As he finishes up with a customer, he looks over, compulsively, at the loveseat in the corner of the cafe. Dream’s taken that spot over as his own, not just to sit but to lounge, sprawled across it with his head propped against one arm and his long legs dangling over the other.

He’s reading whatever book he’s brought today with a sort of pinched intensity. Hob had thought, early on, that Dream had already read every book in his library, through some kind of magic or bending of time, but it turns out that’s not the case. His matching of books to their readers is uncanny but he hasn’t actually read all of them himself. Though he seems to spend all the time when he isn’t working or talking to Hob remedying that.

As Hob watches, Dream plucks up his iced coffee from a side table and takes a delicate sip through the straw, not lifting his head and somehow managing not to choke himself in the process. Hob shakes his head in amusement and goes back to the next customer.

Later, he brings a pastry over to Dream. No scones today, this time he has lemon bars, but it hardly matters when Dream can be plied with almost anything sweet.

He sets it down on the table beside Dream’s now-empty iced coffee. “For my liege.”

Dream looks up and smiles with princely satisfaction but doesn’t adjust his languid sprawl. “Sweet Hob,” he coos, and tips his head back, and Hob obligingly leans down and plants a kiss on his lips.

He perches on the edge of the couch beside him. “What you reading?”

Dream shows him. Oh… it’s Hob’s. The one Dream had given him back when they first met—In Search of Nightingales. He probably nicked it from Hob’s flat upstairs—or rather, took it back, as technically all the books return to the Library in the end, according to Dream.

“What do you think, then?” Hob asks. Does Dream even have books that he likes or dislikes? Or does he just accept all of them as they are? Hob isn’t clear on how it works to be a library spirit, or whatever Dream is.

“I find the chemistry titillating,” Dream says, and it’s only because Hob is used to the way he talks by now that he doesn’t choke on air at the phrasing.

Though it’s possible that’s what Dream wanted in the first place.

“I find you ‘titillating,’” Hob says, and Dream’s satisfied smile deepens. “You’re a horrible distraction here. Look at you.” He taps his fingers up Dream’s terribly long legs, over his hip and up his rib cage. “All laid out like this.”

“I’ve no objections to being laid,” Dream says, and sets aside his book, stretching up a hand to run his delicate fingers through Hob’s hair.

“Not in the middle of my cafe,” Hob says sternly, and Dream pouts. It’s true that he’s incredibly tempting, even and especially when he pouts like that.

Dream looks at him beseechingly, still tickling Hob’s scalp with his fingertips. Christ but he’s pretty. Letting him lay here while Hob’s trying to work was both Hob’s best and worst decision ever.

“Fine,” Hob says, and it’s probably the easiest victory Dream’s ever had. It’s not like Hob needs to be wheedled into having sex with him, for Christ’s sake, but— “If I go out of business it’s your fault, you know.”

Dream seems unrepentant as Hob pushes himself back to his feet.

Hob points at him. “Upstairs, ten minutes. I’m not leaving the place to catch on fire because you’re horny.”

“Hypocrisy considering what we did in the Library yesterday,” Dream calls after him as Hob heads back towards the counter. “Those books still have yet to be shelved.”

“Little nightmare,” Hob grumbles, and can just see Dream’s smirk.

Dream is gone sometime between when Hob turns away from him and when he finishes situating the staff to take over for a while. Much of his staff are uni kids, and too nosy by half, definitely know what he’s up to when Dream’s around, but he ignores it for now. He supposes he can live with their gossip.

When he turns back, Dream has disappeared from the couch. He’s taken his lemon bar with him, which makes Hob chuckle, shaking his head fondly.

He follows Dream upstairs, and finds him in nearly the same position, sprawled now across Hob’s living room couch. Except now he’s shirtless, and engaged in delicately eating the lemon bar piece by tiny piece, licking his fingertips after each one. Little devil.

“Stop sexualizing my pastries,” Hob says, as he slips off his shoes and slides right onto Dream’s lap.

Dream gives a satisfied hum and licks the dusting of powdered sugar from his fingers, tongue lingering. “If you insist, I suppose I can tone down my behavior.”

Hob captures Dream’s mouth, hands to his shoulders and pushing him down into the couch. “Don’t you dare.”

Dream smiles into the kiss. He tastes strongly of lemon and sugar, and it’s definitely more satisfying a taste on Dream’s lips than when Hob had tried the first batch of lemon bars this morning.

“You taste good,” he says.

“That is your doing, I should think.”

“Mmm.” Hob kisses the curve of his throat, then the sharp angle of his collarbone. Dream sighs in the most spoiled, indulgent manner as Hob slides down his body to lay kisses on his bare chest, his belly, low on his pelvis above the waistband of his jeans.

“I should make you wait,” he says.

“You won’t, though,” says Dream, and he’s right. Hob is, as the uni kids say, a simp.

He unzips Dream’s jeans. He’s already hard in his underwear, and stretches languidly as Hob takes him out, a shiver running through him. Hob is hard too, but doing anything about it feels secondary to watching Dream in his sleepy, sensual satisfaction. Hob likes to see him like that, letting go.

“You just going to lie there?” he says, and Dream hums, tipping his head back. Petting lightly at Hob’s hair. He does tend to get drowsy in the afternoons, night owl that he is. “Course you are.”

Hob hardly minds. He likes to see Dream happy.

He gets to work trying to pull even more of that beautiful ease from him. Sucks Dream off slow and methodical, feeling a rush of success at every fluttering sigh and low moan. Dream keeps petting through his hair, gentle undemanding touches. His thighs tremble, breath coming quicker and sharper whenever Hob takes him deeper.

Hob knows well enough by now when he’s about to come. Dream’s thighs tense up, and his grip tightens in Hob’s hair, breath catching in the back of his throat. He comes with a drawn out sigh on Hob’s tongue, and strokes Hob’s cheeks as Hob pulls off him and swallows.

“Hob,” he pleads, tugging on Hob’s jaw to draw him up, and Hob chuckles.

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” he warns, and Dream rolls his eyes, though he does look quite sleepy. Hob’s own arousal is a low simmer in him, sparked brighter by Dream’s pleasure but undemanding, and he might have just draped himself over Dream’s body and let it be, except Dream is already slipping a hand into his pants.

“Dream—” He’s cut off as Dream gets his zipper open and pulls him out, then tugs him in with his other hand around the back of Hob’s thigh, encouraging him to grind into the crook of his hip. “Fuck.”

“Mmm.” As Hob grinds against him, Dream’s hand goes back to his hair, and he brings Hob up to his lips. Hob kisses him, messy, uncoordinated. Dream’s lips are sweet, his body delicious friction. It’s so easy with him sometimes, like now, lazy and haphazard and imperfect.

He comes with a groan over Dream’s stomach, tucking his face into his throat, limbs going pleasantly loose. Next thing he knows, Dream has recovered his shirt from somewhere and used it to clean himself off so he can pull Hob flush to his chest.

Hob chuckles, feeling about as sleepy as Dream had been before. “I’m your blanket now?”

“A warm one,” Dream agrees. “You are very cozy.”

“Glad I’m good for something.”

“Food and warmth,” Dream agrees, and Hob laughs. Though privately, he doesn’t think Dream has much of either in his life usually, and he’s glad to be able to provide. “Though not just that.”

He doesn’t need to elaborate. Hob gets it.

He lays his head down on Dream’s chest. The cafe’s just going to have to keep itself a bit longer, he thinks, because Hob’s staying right here.

Dream keeps petting his hair, and Hob presses in closer to him, and it’s not long before they’re both asleep.

#can u tell i was just so so so so so sleepy when i wrote this #bookstore cryptid dream #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #my writing #the pro of owning your own business is you can just leave any time to have sex with your bf!

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fluffomatic · 4 months

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Back again with more Tickle Forest beings! Another cryptid~ A mean little Kitsune Tickler whose power is sustainable with the laughter of its prey. After she's full, she releases her prey in a safe location to rest and recover.

(My art don't repost but please reblog)

I know it's been awhile, sorry bout that 😅 But we only have 1 more tickle creature for the milestone I need to get done! Hopefully I can get it finished quickly

#my art #my artwork #tickling #tickle art #tickle #tickles #my art stuff #my oc #tickle forest #tickle island #tickle cryptid #3000 follower milestone

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sophiasharp · 10 months

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Actually I’m gonna expand on Mountain being more of a forest cryptid than we all already thought because this idea tickles me so much.

Because imagine your Terzo. You’re probably still a cardinal when your eldest brother asks you to summon a new earth ghoul for him since his health’s getting too bad to do everything by himself these days, including summoning his own ghouls.

And you say sure, why not. You love your brother like the father you should have had. You’d do anything for him

Only when you complete the ritual, the ghoul doesn’t come out. It stays on the other side of the veil, refusing to leave.

Well, tough titties, your brother’s garden won’t maintain itself, so you do something truly inadvisable and pull on the magic tether between yourself and the ghoul down in the pit and fucking HAUL this son of a bitch up.

Only once you’re done, you’ve realized you’ve fucked up severely Because whatever you’ve just pulled up, it isn’t a ghoul. You’re not sure what it is, actually. It’s a constantly shifting form of… something. Its limbs look like it could be both bipedal and quadrupedal but other than that and being tall, it had no distinctive look. Or, perhaps, it had too many, as the longer you stared at it the more it’s body seemed to morph and change: covered in fur one moment, armored in bark the next, seemingly MADE of moss the second after.

It looks at you and says in a voice like sliding gravel “For what have you dared to pull me from my home, little man?”

And you, instead of sending that thing back to the pit faster than Copia hiding his rats from Sister Imperator, look up at this colossal force or nature and go “hey there big guy, ever wanted a vacation?”

“… a what?”

3 hours later and Primo now has a very tall, very strange, but very polite and easygoing ghoul trailing behind him as he explains what each of the plants in his garden need to thrive.

He calls himself Mountain. Some days you wonder if that name is more literal than most believe.

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witchofthesouls · 9 months

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You know what would tickle me silly?

A crossover between G1 and TFP because of all the stupid shenanigans with some twists with the Dionysian Effect verse.

Not only do the G1 and TFP crews try to find their universe and confront some Uncomfortable truths in each other's worlds, but-

The thing is, TFP!Soundwave is deep in the mysticism of the Cult of Megatronus, so not only do the G1!cons need to constantly compute that there's a Soundwave with only one drone, no cassettes, an absolute beast of fighter, and a mute cryptid. He's fucking married to boot. In the equivalent of a Vegas-style, mate-napping of yore, and sealed-in-the-dirt and blessed by a fucking Prime kind of thing.

Knock out: Surprised us, too. I never expected the mech to drag back a warbride on this dirtball. G1!cons: Who!?!? Knock out: No idea. Some sort of stray Wilder that got lost in this primitive aft-end of the boonies. She did escape the flying ship by jumping off. G1!cons: What the absolute fu-

Even TFP!Megatron, who played Unicron's blood to get a huge edge over the Autobots, basically lets Soundwave handle that situation on his own because 1) he knows how committed Soundwave is, 2) Soundwave did bring back a Primal Artifact into their grasp and essentially ensured it couldn't be used against them with the current conditions, and 3) bonded with the Cybertronian equivalent of an extinct class of strange, powerful beings (aka Cybertronian magic-users), and 4) is deeply entertained by their hunting game and how Cyber!June sets things on fire and is impressed by her aim with energy projectiles.

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mrsshabana · 6 months

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i'm intrigued by the mantis!gyutaro?

The mantis Gyutaro fic is one I started about a year ago and I have 2 chapters written. But I never posted it because I didn't want to commit to another fic. I will say it is one of my favorite things I've written though. ・:*(〃∇〃人)*:・

Someone gave me the idea of a cryptid Gyutaro on my old blog, then I made these sketches which inspired the fic.

I'll also include some paragraphs from chapter 1! If you like it, maybe I'll post more of this au because I really do love it -♡

𝑴𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒔!𝑮𝒚𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒐 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

Scrambling to your knees, you turn around to face whatever thought you’d make an easy meal.

It’s a man. No… It’s an insect.

The creature has the body and the face of a man, albeit very thin and bony. He has black hair that fades into green halfway down, partially tied up in a messy topknot. Large folded up wings lay on his back. His forearms are decorated with long, sharp spikes. His entire body is covered in ink-like black splotches. Two long antennae hang in front of his face.

The thing is sitting down, groaning with its head in its palms.

Your thoughts are spiraling. There’s no way that this is actually happening right? The sane person in you wants to run away screaming before this thing gets back up. But the entomologist in you wants to investigate further. You know you’re playing with fire, but your curiosity gets the best of you.

You take a moment to admire his appearance again. Antennae, tibial spines, large wings. This creature resembles a mantis. Ok, what do you know about mantids? They’re aggressive predators, territorial, and they’ll eat almost anything. Shit, none of that information helps you right now. It only diminishes your chances of getting out of this alive.

You took too long, and the creature has recovered from your headbutt. Staring at you with wide eyes, it slowly moves towards you. Inching ever so slowly.

Reaching into your pocket, you grab the small jar of honey you were going to use as bait later in the night. You know that mantids only eat live prey, but this is all that you have.

You fumble with the lid, scooting yourself backwards as the creature continues its crawl towards you. With a huff, your back hits a tree, stopping your path. You are met with glowing yellow eyes and deadly mandibles inches from your face.

Somehow, you managed to open the jar. The sweet aroma of artisan honey fills the air around you. In a desperate attempt to distract the creature, you hold the honey out to him.

“H-here. F-for you…” you stutter, voice barely above a whisper.

Guttural clicks rumble from his chest. He exhales in your face, the rich scent of blood fills your nose. Almost making you gag. You must’ve not been the first item on the menu tonight.

With curiosity, the creature sniffs the jar in your hand. He places a hand on your hip to keep you in place, as a long tongue slips out of its mouth. Its tongue is pitch black and forked at the tip.

You feel like you can’t breathe as this thing starts to lick the honey from the jar. Seemingly satisfied by its sweetness he continues. This creature is quite literally, eating from the palm of your hand.

It’s great that you managed to distract it, but what do you do now? It’s holding you down so you won’t be able to get away. All you can do is watch as the jar slowly empties, your fate approaching. You thought you were being smart by offering the honey, but all you managed to do is give him an appetizer.

It only takes a few minutes for the jar to be licked clean. His hungry gaze shifted back to you. He licks his mandibles as he inches his face closer to yours, tickling the top of your head with his antennae.

“P-please… I-I don’t wanna die,” you whimper. Lowering your head and squeezing your eyes shut as tears roll down your cheeks.

All you can do is wait for the pain of being ripped apart.

#gyutaro #gyutaro shabana #gyutaro x reader #gyutaro x y/n #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #gyuutarou #gyuutarou x reader #mantis gyutaro #cryptid #cryptid x reader #gyutaro fanart #kny fanart #demon slayer fanart #replies

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sofiiel · 1 month

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Cryptid!Eddie x Reader | PART EIGHT

⇠ Part 1 | Part 7 | Next ⇢

Warnings: Cute. Weredemo fighting. Reunions. | Word Count: 4537

You awake to the loud purring of Toad. She nestles well into the tightly packed cave of uncomfortable people around her. You and Eddie's shared body heat keeping the chill from the open window away.

Your eyes struggled to open, and your arm was full of dull prickles. It lay caught pinned where Eddie's arm wrapped around you. His leg curled to hug your body.

"When did this happen?" You thought. He'd curled himself around you, sure, but you weren't this covered before. Eddie had managed to wrap himself around you like a turtle shell.

Eddie's head resting on top of yours gave you very little ability to look about.

"Eddie wake up, I can't feel my arm." You call to him. You move your shoulders in hopes of shaking him awake.

"Mmh you said five minutes." He mumbled groggily in reply.

"Eddie, it's the next morning and your monster kicked in. We also had a visitor and ... You need to wake up."

Eddie's eyes fluttered open, "What?" He asked, sitting up quickly. The movement shook Toad out of her peace, and she fled her cozy cave with a mrowl of annoyance.

"Did I," Eddie examined you, looking for cuts or bites.

"Relax, I wasn't on the menu this time. In fact, you protected us." You stated. Turning to look up, you are met with mix-matched eyes.

"Your eyes, is that.... that's not a good sign, is it?" You question.

Eddie bit his lip his words rushing, "What's wrong with them? Don't end it there, what's happening?" He pushed.

Reaching up, you let your fingertips gently brush the corner of the milky eye. "It's still that haunting white." You said, drawing your hand away. "Do you feel different at all?"

"I am hungry, I guess?" Eddie rested a hand on his gut, "stomachs got that burn in it that just feels like acid."

At his words, you sprung up from the sofa, "we didn't feed you your mea-"

You both gasped. The opposite side of the room came rushing towards you, propelled forward as the fabric of your PJs snagged on Eddie's toe talons.

Reaching out his hands, Eddie caught you, arms hugging your middle as he drew you back. His light laughter filled the room, breath tickling the back of your neck.

"Your clumsiness is contagious." you exhaled.

Eddie sniggered, "You can't blame it on me."

"It was your toes that did it." you shot.

Eddie gave them a wiggle, "They wanted five minutes." He teased.

With a little roll of your eyes, you tried to fight your smile, brushing his arms away from you. "Listen, I'll go down to the shop and get you something that will hopefully fix the strange eye thing. In the meantime, you've got first dibs on the bathroom. It's a big day for you today." You offered.

Eddie frowned slightly but nodded. "Yeah, the nerves didn't kick back in at all." he murmured.

You pressed your finger into his cheek, "Ow." Eddie winced in a dry complaint.

"He seems like a cool guy. You don't have anything to worry about." you assured him before heading towards the lift and down to the shop.

Eddie paced around the shop, if he wasn't wringing his hands or tail he was knotting his hair around his claw.

Looking up at the clock, you bit your lip, Dustin was late bringing Wayne. At this rate, it seemed Eddie might burst.

Finally stopping in his tracks, He tossed you big concerned eyes that made the rest of his face shrink.

"Relax, Dustin probably just had to do a little explaining to convince him to come. After all, it's still early, He may have been asleep or something. He works late, right?" You tried to sound calm, but it came out as a ramble.

Eddie continued to look at you unconvinced, "You're nervous too." he said quickly.

"I am not, you're making me nervous with all those circles you're walking," You stated just as quickly. Reaching for the plate before you on the counter, you snatched up a cookie and held it out.

"Want one?" you asked.

Eddie cracked a smile and headed to you.

The door chimed and Dustin poked his head inside. "Is he ready?" He asked.

Eddie instantly paled.

"He is -

"Not" Eddie cut you off. His hand crushed the cookie he'd just taken.

Looking at him, you try and offer a calm smile. "Eddie, it's going to be fine."

He bit his lip.

"Alright then, Wayne?" Dustin called, opening the door a little further.

You round the counter and stand behind Eddie, quietly resting a hand on his arm. His body exhaled as he took a step back towards you.

When Wayne entered the shop, Dustin quickly closed and locked the door. Turning hesitantly, as if afraid to see the reaction of the little family.

The longer the silence continued, the heavier it got. The brewing coffee pot, the gentle crackle of the fire, the swishing of Eddie's tail against the shop floor, it all seemed so loud.

You could hear the breathing of all in the room.

"Please say something." Eddie requested weakly, his eyes lowering to the ground as he bowed his head.

"I knew you'd make it home."

Eddie's head snapped up, hearing Wayne's strained voice, and he was brought into an embrace that made him feel the smallest he'd ever been.

Gently tucking his claws into Wayne's coat, Eddie hid his face down into his Uncle's shoulder.

"Oh," you breathed quietly.

You weren't expecting the rush of emotion that filled the room and sank deep into your bones. Across the room, Dustin rubbed the bottom of his palm to the corner of his eyes.

"I'm um...gonna go put on some soup, it's actually kind of cold out." you spoke quickly, fleeing to the kitchen to a safe place to wipe your own eyes.

"You're far too easy to get invested in you know that." You thought to Eddie while pulling out the ingredients from the fridge and rubbing your eyes.

Wayne pulled away from Eddie and looked him over, cracking a playful smile. "And here I was sure you'd stop growing" He chuckled.

Eddie peered down at him, "I did a bit more than just get taller, Wayne." He said.

"Don't matter none to me. I'm just glad you're home, son." Wayne's voice faltered and Eddie's eyes filled with water once more.

"See, told you, didn't care." Dustin said.

"You're ruining the moment, Henderson," Eddie shot, his smile betraying the glare on his face.

Eddie then jolted slightly, looking over his shoulder. "Where'd nutty go?" he asked.

"____ announced off to make soup." Dustin said.

"I was distracted." Eddie muttered, "I was also promised they'd stay." he sulked.

"Just went to the kitchen, man." Dustin laughed.

Wayne looked towards the kitchen, behind the counter, and then to his nephew. Glancing back at his uncle, Eddie spotted the amused twinkle in his eyes.

"Why...why're you looking at me like that?" He questioned cautiously.

Wayne lifted his brows and folded his arms across his chest. "No real reason, I guess." He hummed. "Go see what's cookin'" Wayne nodded toward the kitchen.

Eddie's brow knitted in confusion, but he did as Wayne said, making his way back, taking care not to knock things off the counter.

Standing near the sink to wash your hands after clearing your eyes for the third time, you sniffled. Scolding yourself for the sudden overflow of sentimentality.

"It's just something about it all that reminds me of you." You sighed, your brother's face coming to mind.

"Are you? Are you crying?" Eddie asked, his wide eyes blinking rapidly.

"I - awww," He teased with a grin.

Turning to him with a narrowed gaze, you scowled, "I was cutting onions for the soup. My eyes burn." you explained.

It wasn't a complete lie, but onions hadn't actually bothered you in years.

Eddie still held a satisfied smirk on his face, "Uh huh, that's the worst and most overused excuse in the history of ever." He said, walking closer.

He followed you as he went to the pot on the stove, and watched as you gave it a stir.

"You know, silence says a whole lot?" He asked, smile growing.

"If you don't stop, I'm not giving you any soup." you uttered.

"Yeah, you will." Eddie sang, leaning onto your shoulder.

"So far you made cookies and coffee and started the fireplace for this reunion." He pointed out.

Bopping his forehead against your temple, Eddie laughed lightly, "I've grown on you." he said.

"Yep, like fungus."

"I was thinking more like a blush."

"Want to be upgraded to an ivy rash?" you shot back.

Eddie simply grinned.

"That soup's done, stop hiding." He said, taking up the pot in his hands.

"Wait don't!"

But it was too late, the whole thing crashed to the kitchen floor, both of you leaping to void the scalding broth.

"Um..." Eddie hummed, "Sorry? I thought I had it."

You snorted as a rush of laughter bubbled up from your core. Eddie drew his head back in surprise and slowly smiled before laughing himself.

"What happened!" Dustin cried out, rushing into the kitchen with Wayne at his heels.

"I um...tried to help." said Eddie.

Wayne sighed, relieved that it was something so simple, and more so that the two of you seemed to be laughing about it.

"I'll call for a pizza," he said.

"It'll be on me." You offered.

Noon was giving way to what would be a vivid sunset. You were watching Eddie, Wayne, and Dustin get caught up and mow through the two pizzas when a knock came to the door.

Getting up, you wiped your hands on the napkin before answering it.

"Whoa...what, why are you all dressed up like Rambo?" You asked, looking over, Lucas, Robin, and Steve.

"How else are you supposed to dress for this?" Lucas asked.

"More importantly, why aren't you dressed?" asked Steve, pointing his finger in a line from your head to your toes, "You can't go monster hunting in that."

Looking down at yourself, you then gawk at him. "There's a dress code?" you questioned, stepping aside to let the trio in.

"Seriously, you can't move too great in that," Steve warned once more.

"Noted, but I think I'll be ok." You reply locking up.

"So you wanna tell me what's all this about Monster huntin?" Wayne asked turning an arched brow to Eddie.

Eddie's mouth went to form words but they curled up in his throat and refused to leave.

"W-we were just - you know..." When they came they were nothing but stammers.

"There's another one like Eddie. Wayne." Dustin said, clearing the air.

"There, like a bandaid," said Robin.

"Actually there are two, possibly more at this rate." You muttered.

"Two?" Lucas asked.

"More?" Steve echoed. "like how many more?"

"I don't know, but we had a visitor last night." You confessed.

"That's a lot more than just a bandaid." Eddie said, trying to gauge Wayne's reaction.

"A visitor?" Robin questioned.

"I woke up to- never mind. The short, woke up and Eddie was having an episode, a new smaller monster climbed through the door but," Your words quiet down and your brow knitted in confusion.

"It never actually attacked, either Eddie scared it away or it didn't come to fight." you said.

When all eyes turned to Eddie he let out a nervous chuckle, "sorry I still don't remember a whole lot after those things happen." He confessed.

With a sigh, Eddie added, "Not that it should surprise anyone."

"So what? These things are gravitating to him?" Steve asked.

"They could be," Dustin replied nodding his head to one side, "would make finding them easier."

You shove yourself out of your seat, "Where are you going?" Eddie questioned.

"To change apparently, and then to find more snacks. We got a while before the hunt begins." you called headed for the lift.

The time had arrived and the streets of Hawkins had become still. Most everyone was settled in bed to prepare for the new day. Eddie took to the skies to travel, it would be safer than skulking the streets to the woods.

You stood between Robin and Wayne as the group waited for Eddie to land. Hands gripped around a cast iron pan.

Wayne wasn't supposed to be there, but no one was going to attempt to make him go home. He had that look on his face.

"So, repeat the plan," Eddie said as his feet touched the ground.

"We split into two groups. If they're tracing Eddie the best places to start would be near the quarry and the cornfield," said Dustin.

He held out a map of Hawkins, two dots drawn in red marker indicated the last two places Eddie could remember revisiting before.

"Everybody knows to be careful, walkies for emergency contact otherwise," Steve pulled out a small black device, "we have these."

Robin passed around a few more pagers, two to each group.

You take the little electronic in your hands, puzzled. "You just...had extras?" You questioned.

"My dad ran a beeper empire for two years before selling it off." Steve explained dryly.

"Well only two of us know what to be looking for, I should go with one group and Eddie should go with the other." You said.

"What?" Eddie asked, "No." he shook his head and frowned. "I'm not being left alone with anybody in case I flip a switch or something."

His words came out fast as he pointed at you with his claw, "You're the only one here who's ever snapped me out of it."

"Can't be that hard-"

"Uh, hello? We don't know that." He jumped in.

You sighed, "Still can't be that hard. These are your friends, Wayne's your uncle. I doubt they'll be in danger from you."

"I think Eddie's right, I'd rather not risk being his midnight snack," Lucas said.

"Me neither, no offense but...." Robin chimed in quickly.

"None taken."

"I'll Go with Eddie. Dustin and ____ can come with us." Wayne spoke up.

"I'm, okay with that." Dustin shrugged, "those who know how to deal with Eddie go with Eddie."

"Sounds great, promises he won't stick anything sharp to my neck again," Steve murmured.

"Wait we're not over this? It was self-defense," said Eddie.

"I know I was only-"

A piercing screech stretched over the skies of Hawkins. A metallic and almost rusty whine.

You share apprehensive glances.

"We should just head out. We'll take the quarry, you can take the fields." Robin peeped trying to clear the fear out of her throat.

Steve sighed and gave his bat a twirl "I thought we were done with this."

Dustin offered a hint of a smile, "Feels like old times right? We've even got a our certified newbie." he said pointing over his shoulder at you.

It would have been a site to see, two grown adults cowering behind an old man with a riffle as they pushed through acres of cornfields. More so when one was pushing eight feet or more, winged, clawed, and tailed.

"Why are you behind Wayne?" Dustin asked.

"Why are you behind Wayne?" Eddie shot back.

"I don't think it's out here it would have shown itself by now," you whispered.

"Great, awesome, perfect - can we go now?" Eddie asked he rested his palm on his gut, "Before I get hungry again." he murmured.

Another shivered chirp wailed across the night, from behind you.

Eddie lumbered quickly through Dustin and Wayne, running around you to stand between three walls of people.

"What are you doing?" Dustin asked him. "You're the heavy!"

You find yourself frozen in place, Eyes scanning the area around you. Wayne seemed oddly calm as he lifted his rifle and took aim.

Eddie's wide eyes watched as Dustin shined the flashlight about.

"Yeah, right....I'm the heavy..." Eddie muttered, slinking from behind you cautiously.

The fields shifted, "Wait" you whispered, watching the stalks sway and part.

"It's coming."

The four of you huddle together, eyes glued to the shifting field. claws scrapped against the dirt as the creature drew closer. Moving around you as if circling.

You and the others turn carefully to follow the creature's direction.

"Why hasn't it come out yet?" You ask.

"Maybe it's afraid of Eddie." Dustin suggested.

"If it's the one we ran into out here before, not a chance - that thing, I had my ass handed to me." Eddie murmured.

"And Eddie isn't in his trance....when he feels it's a threat he's not himself." You explained.

Releasing a breath you move past Dustin and Wayne, eyes watching the moving figure in the corn.

"Yeah, hello? What do you think you're doing?" Eddie asked in a whisper, using his tail to tug you back as you tried to move ahead of him.

"You're instincts are telling you it's not a threat." You tell him.

"Um no I'm pretty freaked out-"

"But your monster half isn't. You're eyes haven't changed and your talking." You pressed.

"And?" Eddie asked.

"And the last creature didn't hurt us. Maybe...I don't know Maybe you've accepted it? Look, I'm just trying to piece things together." you tried to reason.

"Got a point, If it meant harm it wouldn't have circled this long, and if it was intimidated, woulda left already," Wayne murmured.

"Reminds me of when you own a bunch of dogs and the new one is timid 'bout joining the group," Wayne added

Dustin raised a brow "So you're saying it's what asking for permission?" he asked.

"Permission not granted go away!" Eddie called out.

"Hey wait! It might be good to have it on our side!" Dustin called out.

You try to pry Eddie's tail away from your torso, but as the movement in the corn comes to a stop, Eddie's grip on you tightens.

"Why'd it stop? Where'd it go?" He asked quietly.

"You told it to go away." Dustin said flatly. "Now we probably lost a good party member."

Eddie's grip tightened more, enough to hurt. You glance up at him and exhale.

"Oh no..."

pitched growls rumbled from deep within Eddie's throat as his eyes capped over in white.

"That's not good is it?" Dustin asked.

"No," you whispered as Eddie positioned himself to guard the group.

"Not at all, it's got to be the big one again," you added.

The night air fills with a chorus of screeches, leaving you and the others muted and rooted in place.

The corn began to shift once more, only this time, you were cornered, movement from your flank and movement straight ahead.

"Holy shit, we're screwed," Dustin whispered.

"If they're on us that means they aren't on the others, They had to have heard that sound, maybe we can hold out here until they come?" You ponder out loud.

Eddie's talons dig at the ground as he focuses on the large creature exiting the corn.

"Well, I'll be damned." Wayne exhaled, his eyes wide as he watched it.

Its floral chapped maw opened wide as it roared, the sound grating on the ears and terrifying all at once.

Eddie's tail uncurled from around you as he once again tried to back you, Dustin, and Wayne away from the threat.

it might have worked the night before in your apartment but this time, there was another problem.

From behind you, the second creature peeped his head out from the corn. It was easily dwarfed by both Eddie and the second creature.

With a small chirp, it creped out of the corn, its body curled in and it moved with pacing fearful steps.

It resembled Eddie more than the second creature, looking more human than monster. A curtain of blond hair covering its face.

It's arms were thin and frail, it's hands sporting smaller talons.

"oh.my.god...it's - is that?" Dustin stammered.

"Do you know this one?" You asked quickly.

Watching the creature pace about uncomfortably took away your fear of it. Its main concern seemed to be the second creature who was busy sizing up Eddie, trying its best to intimidate him.

"It looks like Chrissy Cunningham," said Dustin.

"That girl died," Wayne said.

"Maybe she didn't...we thought Eddie was gone too." Dustin stated.

"She does have the same look doesn't she. Maybe the big one is older - maybe?" You asked.

"Could be, but if that's Chrissy and Eddie is Eddie..." Dustin turned to face the stare down. "Who is that?" He asked focusing on the large creature.

Eddie moved away from the group as the large creature started to circle him.

Wayne lifted his rifle and took aim, clicking back the hammer. His nephew might have been more than able to defend himself in this state, but he wasn't going to give the creature a chance at hurting him.

With cautious steps you inched towards the little creature, "Chrissy?" you called out.

With a shivered chirp her head swung in your direction.

speaking softly, you make a gesture towards Eddie and Dustin, "H-hey...are these...friends of yours?" You asked her.

Her head lifted a bit and tilted as she moved closer, close enough to touch.

Reaching out your hand, you move to shift the hair out of her face, when Eddie and the second creature came crashing between the group.

Growls, snarling whinnies, and snapping echoed in your ears.

having been knocked to the ground you roll out the way.

Wayne fires several rounds into the second creature.

"Get him, Eddie!" Dustin cheered.

Before fully registering what is happening around you, you find yourself being dragged away, the corn closing off your view of the fight.

"Wait? What?" You try to hold off from panicking, looking up your view is obscured by locks of blonde hair.

"Where are you taking me?" you asked her.

Chrissy seemed to struggle to drag you a long, her movements were clumsy, worse than Eddie's had been.

"____!" You hear Wayne shout in the distance, followed by a string of curses from Dustin.

"I'm ok!" You try to call back, but you doubt they could hear you if Eddie and the creature were still fighting.

It wasn't easy for her but Chrissy had successfully pulled you out of the cornfield and into the tree line. There you sat and waited, staring at each other.

"She doesn't have a tail either." You thought, trying to learn as much as you could from her. As the one from last night was, Chrissy too was smaller in stature.

"So was the one form last night female too, or just...newly transformed?" You thought.

"Why'd you drag me out here?" You ask her.

Chrissy only turned her head back to where the fight was taking place.

"____! duck!" Lucas' voice called out.

hopping to your feet you hold out your arms to calm Lucas, "Hold on! She's friendly! Dustin says her name is-"

"Chrissy?" Lucas questioned lowering his weapon.

You exhaled, "Um...yeah. So you know her too." and then it dawned on you as you recounted the story you'd been told by Eddie and his bandmates.

"Oh...oh - that Chrissy!" you gasped.

Lucas gawked at her, "I don't understand, how has this happened to them? Eddie was bitten....Chrissy wasn't" He wondered outloud.

"Well if we could get her to talk, she could tell us herself." You said.

Though while looking at her it was clear, whatever it was that triggered instinct, as with Eddie, had taken over completely.

Meanwhile

Wayne fired another shot, blasting Eddie's combatant in the leg while the two lanky creatures continued to tussle about in the corn.

"Dustin!" Steve's voice called out as he and Robin stumbled out of the stalks.

"Oh, snap..." Robin exhaled.

"Move!" Steve shouted, shoving her out of the way as Eddie managed to push the creature off of him, hurdling it towards the two.

Dustin grimaced, "I told you! Kick his ass! Offense, Eddie, not defense - offense!" He shouted.

Dustin's arms dropped to his side, "Why isn't he fighting for real? He could have that thing down by now." Steve murmured, as he and Robin joined Dustin.

Dustin shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know."

"Or fly away, he's got a wing advantage here, the other Demo-thing doesn't." Robin chimed in.

"Don't know." Dustin repeated.

"It's like," Dustin paused as he watched the bigger creature ram it's shoulder into Eddie, knocking him over. Eddie's body curled his tail acting as a barrier between him and it.

"It's like he doesn't want to fight it?" Dustin questioned.

"I'm pretty sure I've seen this on National Geographic, it's just a power struggle. That large thing is in Eddie's head, He does want to fight it, he just doesn't think he can win" Robin explained.

"You kids should go on and look for ____, Been gone to long there's no telling where the other one took them." Wayne called out, firing another shot towards Eddie's opponent, who seemed unfazed.

"It took ____?" Steve questioned. "It didn't run this way...It went-"

Dustin's eyes grew wide "You saw another one." he nearly exclaimed.

"Yeah, smaller than Eddie and this thing." said Steve.

"Should we do something about them?" Robin asked watching the fight as the two monsters continued the odd test of strength and place.

"They're fine," Dustin answered quickly, "You saw another one? Did it have hair?" He asked Steve.

"Hair? what - No. This one looked like any other Demodog. Maybe a little larger than normal but nothing like Batman and Goliath over there." said Steve.

"Maybe it was the one ____ said Eddie fought off last night." Dustin murmured.

"How are there so many of them left?" Robin asked, her eyes looked between the two men, "The gate is closed. We all saw it shut, permanently. We fought like hell to do it."

"Maybe some of Vecna's monsters got left behind. Maybe they, I dunno did that weird thing, were a piece falls off and becomes another one." Steve tried to reason.

Dustin spoke carefully, "That could in theory work for regular monsters from the upside down. But that doesn't explain Eddie and Chrissy."

"Chrissy?" Steve and Robin ask in unison.

"It's why I asked about the hair." said Dustin.

Steve mouth opened as if to speak and then closed again as he rested his nailbat on his shoulder.

"Chrissy ran off with ____, who claimed to be ok but-"

"But they're now stuck with another monster who may or may not be the same person they used to be." Robin jumped in.

Dustin gave a nod, "But I don't think Chrissy woul-"

The small group scattered to make room as Eddie lept to avoid the large Demo's attack. Kicking up dirt and uprooting corn stalks Eddie slid to a stop. He huffed and puffed as he stood on stakey legs.

"I just brought him those," Steve muttered as he looked over the tears in Eddie's clothing, blood tricking from claw marks in his skin.

"Maybe we should do something, He looks beat." Steve added, lifting his bat.

In doing so he drew the attention of the second creature. It's large head turned towards Steve and without eye it seemed to watch him.

"Why is it looking at you like that?" Dustin asked quietly.

"I know? Why would I know?" Steve replied.

"Maybe it remembers you?" Robin whispered.

"Eddie man you need to fight! We don't have time for this!" Dustin urged. "Wayne's nearly out of bullets, ____ and Chrissy are gone, and - and -" Dustin stopped shouting as he looked around.

"Where's Lucas?" He asked.

"He went...." Steve looked in the direction they'd come from, "oh no."

"Oh no?" Dustin leaned forward.

"He said he heard something, Lucas is smart - I didn't think he'd go looking if we ere still running." Steve groaned.

Dustin flapped his arms once in frustration, "Great, awesome. perfect."

"Eddie we're in a tough spot here...could you just -"

A pitched scream lifted above the corn and shortly after a shrilled wailing bellow followed after. Mice scattered about, fleeing the sound as they weaved around the groups legs.

Eddie lifted his head, turning sharply towards the sound before taking to the skies. His opponent made chase, snapping at Eddie's tail and narrowly missing. It watched as Eddie rose into the air before racing after him on foot.

"What was that?" Robin asked.

Wayne quickly checked his rounds before tossing his riffle to Dustin.

"Here, I'll slow you down. But you outta follow them." said Wayne.

"But what about you?" Robin asked him.

"I don't think them things are concerned with any of us at the moment." said Wayne.

"Right, then we'll meet you back at ____'s shop." said Steve as he parted the corn stalks and ushered Robin and Dustin through.

⇠ Part 1 | Part 7 | Next ⇢

Taglist: @eddiesgirlforever @cherrycolas-things @fan-girl-97

A\N: It's been a long time ~ If you are no longer interested in this fic, no hard feelings, I can remove you from the taglist if you'd like ❤. Some usernames have changed ~ I'm sorry I couldn't find some folks. Also at some point I will give this fic a proper title.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #cryptid!eddie x reader #demo!eddie x reader #eddie fic #sofiiel cryptid!fic #no reader physical descriptors #no use of y/n #eddie munson fic

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robot-rarepairs-dotcom · 4 days

Note

Tfp wheeljack × soundwave hcs?

Sorry for the wait anon I was pretty sick today

Soundwave is a creecher and Wheeljack thinks it’s hilarious

Samurai who’s an actual goon and his cryptid spouse

Tentacle hugs

They practice fighting as a way to hide their relationship but also because they think it’s fun. It’s also Gladiator flirting so

Megatron is so disappointed that his bff chose this guy but at least it wasn’t Starscream so he can’t complain. He’s just like “cmon man THAT autobot? Not uh idk maybe anyone else????”

Soundwave loves movie nights because he gets to stare at Wheeljack while Jackie watches his face

Soundwave likes tickling Wheeljack

They cuddle like freaks. They’re not normal. They’re sprawled in the most uncomfortable manners

#transformers #transformers rarepairs #rarepairs #rarepair ask #rarepair headcanons #soundwave #wheeljack #soundjack #megatron

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running-with-kn1ves · 2 years

Text

Sacrifice Turned Mate

Female Lamia X GN! Reader

A/N: These next two months are going to be focused a lot on monsters/cryptids and some darker yandere ideas due to the wonderful holidays so prepare!

TW: Blood/gore(light), scratches, bruises, kidnapping, injected venom/poison, human sacrifice, snake lady, feelings of suffocation,

Synopsis: Sent as an offering to appease the lamia in the forest, you instead are turned into her unwilling mate. (Borderline smut)

"Look, my prey." She cooed in your ear.

You winced, opening one eye to see the image in front of you. The broken mirror showed your reflection and the lamia behind, a woman with no shame in watching herself poke fun at your expense.

"Delicious..." she mumbled against your shoulder. "I can't get enough of you."

Nyoka’s long, forked tongue came out to give a series of wet licks to your neck, each one slimier than the last. She sucked on the tender flesh of the nape of your neck, hands roaming around to grab what they could. The woman was no more handsier than usual.

"You like what I do to you, don't you.." she chuckled, continuing to defile you with noxious kisses. "Walking in here on your own free will, hardly even struggling..." Her hand moved up your loose, baggy clothes.

Your shirt --already partly transparent-- allowed small areas of skin to show in the mirror, which became even more noticeable once the snake woman lifted the fabric upward. She pressed you hard up against her, hands daring to bruise your flesh as she nipped at you. Her hips were flush with your own as she slowly tiptoed her fingers down your belly.

In the mirror, you could see your pathetic state. Dark circles had formed under your eyes and your legs were bruised with long purple marks, props to Nyoka. The lamia ritual of wrapping one's tail around their mate in a “loving” embrace was not designed with fragile human bodies in mind. The woman had tainted you with her appendage and bite marks, all to prove that you were nothing but hers. You loathed each mark; every time one would disappear, a new one would form out of Nyoka’s obsessive upkeep.

Her nimble fingers reached your crotch, palming it with a soft but firm hand. She felt the warmth from your heat, taking note of how your hips swayed against her hand.

"Already all hot and bothered, are we?"

You bit your tongue as she rubbed circles on your clothed groin, her tail pressing even further down onto your legs. She was wrapped around you intricately, her long and girthy tail spreading your legs apart. The tail’s scales shined a dark red, its warmth making you unconsciously lean into her touch. The den Nyoka had kept you held up in was unbearably cold, purposely done for she knew you wouldn’t be able to resist her warm touch; especially after an evening of sunbathing. The creature was willing to do whatever necessary to get you to come crawling.

The mirror you faced was cracked and falling apart, the golden lining around it showing rust and decay. Though you could still see your reflection perfectly, your weak hands barely fighting off the snake woman as she fondled you.

Her plush breasts pushed into your back as her hair tickled your shoulders.

"Gonna be good for me, right? We can't have any incidents like last time..." Her voice lowers as she speaks when you look away; grabbing the brunt of your ass she stares at you in the mirror. "You know it's no fun when you struggle. So be a good little mouse and do as you're told."

She laughs in your ear, her sharp teeth ghosting over your skin. Nyoka massaged the flesh of your bottom-- gripping palms full. Spreading your legs a bit more with her tail, she left your crotch visible in the mirror. Lifting up your shirt, your exposed stomach appeared like a delicious treat to her in the reflective glass. Licking her lips and pointing her nail, the lamia raked your tender flesh. Small beads of blood quickly filled the newfound gap, making your eyes go wide.

"No!" You cried out.

The searing pain occurred promptly as her hand pulled back. The venom in her nails had tainted your skin, blood turning a faint black as it oozed out of you. Sweat slicked your brow as you desperately tried to cover your stomach in pain. The woman caught your hands, pulling them back and up to leave you exposed. Your soft stomach was painted with the long gash slowly leaking a dark red. The skin was irritated and pulsing. You swallowed the pained cries bubbling in your throat, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes as you felt the sting of her hand press against your abdomen.

If you could just have the upper hand this once, you prayed! The pain fueled your anger.

You could see the cut in the mirror, maroon staining the snake woman's hand as she brought it up to her mouth, her tongue slithering out and feverishly sucking on the blood coating her fingers. Nyoka’s other hand gripped your chest, fingers grabbing the bare flesh as her nails flexed into your skin. Hearing your small hiccups of pain turn louder she massaged your chest, finger tips circling your nipple as she tried to soothe you.

"Now now," She hushed. With her hand back down to your abdomen, you worried she'd strike you again. "Don't cry too much my prey; you've endured worse haven't you?"

It was true; you had endured worse by her hand. You thought back to the hours she'd spent curling you up in her tail, covering you in bruises and bite marks to make sure no other lamia or creature in existence would dare to try and court you-- better yet even touch you. For hours you laid there, listening to her sweet hums and feeling the hot agony of small drops of venom entering your system. It was the woman’s way of both protecting you, and rendering you helpless.

You panicked at seeing her claws grow nearer to your stomach. Trying to pry yourself out of her tail, your bitten and broken nails scratched at her layers of scales. Nyoka grunted, trying to squeeze you harder. But you persisted, wailing and twisting to escape. After the hours upon hours you had spent with her, you’d think you knew better than to try and run away. But the adrenaline pumping in your veins along with the poison was clouding your better judgment.

The lamia resorted to what she knew best; a move that you knew she’d use eventually, but one you hoped you’d be able to overcome. Shoving her hand past your flailing arms she pressed her palm against the heat in between your legs. Your loose tunic had fallen and was scrunched in between as she pressed hard circles to your sensitive core. The gash on your stomach was tainting the off-white fabric, dark blood garishly shining through. Your offering clothes were ripped and sullied now that you had been staying with the lamia. Her den was warm and mostly clean, but your multiple escape attempts had left you a torn, dirty mess.

Nyoka felt you twitch against her, stubbornly trying to ignore the feeling of arousal that she was stirring. The lamia disliked having to resort to such shameless methods to get you to still, but she knew you'd be trained soon enough. With the amount of venom she implemented in your system over these past several weeks, you’d soon fall to her every touch.

You looked away shamefully from the mirror as your body reacted to her touch, groans of refusal were slowly turning to whines. You were holding out longer than either of you expected, but you could feel each nerve growing more and more sensitive. pleasure was building up as you struggled, her hand pushing deeper, harder.

Trying to bite her arm, you found your head seized by her other hand. She removed it from teasing your clothed nipple, grabbing your face from her arm.

"You're naughty," she strained to say, watching you bare your teeth at her. "You're lucky I don’t pull out those pretty teeth of yours as punishment, or rip out that disobedient tongue."

You pulled against the lamia as your hips bucked up into her hand. Snatching up your tunic she shoved her hand down into your crotch, fondling anything she could get her hands on.

“My little prey, you're causing more trouble than you’re worth. It truly sounds like you want to be punished…” You shook your head violently, trying to suppress the moan that desired to escape. You could tell the lamia was growing frustrated with your stubbornness. “Look at yourself, look at what you’ve become.”

She forced your smushed face to stare at yourself in the mirror, watching as she rubbed her hand in between your legs. You were spread for her, an image she would enjoy if it weren’t for your defiance. Your face was squished in between her fingers, thoughts fading in and out between enjoying the ecstasy and trying to pry yourself away from her.

Your body was several different levels of twisted as Nyoka wrapped herself around you, tightening her coil around you to keep you down. You watched as your hips came to meet her hand, only to try and move as far away as possible. Your body was conflicted.

Eyes turning a bloodshot red, face damp with tears and spit, you looked down and away from the mess you had become; but your shame wouldn’t stop you quite yet. You would have bitten her fingers, if it wasn’t for the wave of nausea that hit you.

“So troublesome...” Nyoka whispered, grinning at the newfound expression on your face. Her venomous work was beginning to take effect.

You pinched your lips shut, feeling as if you were about to vomit. The room looked like it was spinning, Nyoka’s tail feeling ten times tighter and her teasing hands far more noticeable.

“What…” You were going to yell, growl at her, but the only thing that could come out of your mouth was a slew of unconnected words. Your head pounded as you leaned back onto her shoulder for support, unable to hold your body up alone.

“There there… You know there are consequences for defying your mate.” She said softly. Nyoka’s fight against you also seemed to die down as her tail loosened, hand rubbing softer circles against your clothed sex. You could feel it far more easier than before, the pleasure and pain crowding your mind as you felt yourself grow hazy. Your breathing became irregular, sweat dripping from your chest as the venom entered your system. You had felt this sensation so many times before, and yet it never got easier.

You wondered if Nyoka only chose to poison you when you were defiant to make it easier, or if it just so happened to be a coincidence.

“Don’t feel good…I’m gonna, m’gonna…” You babbled, hiccupping as the pain from the gash on your stomach increased.

“I know my prey. But you know what happens to naughty mates who don’t listen.”

Nyoka licked the sweat from your neck, flicking her tongue over the bruise that was beginning to form. You let out a small noise, trying to turn away but failing. The poison had rendered your body heavy, invisible bricks holding down your weight as Nyoka ate up every bit.

Her scarlet tail had wrapped around you lovingly, spreading your thighs as she lifted your soiled tunic again. You didn’t fight this time, too overcome with nausea and disorientation to stop her.

“You’re so lucky I’m so good to you. Touching you even though you’ve been such a rebellious little mouse…” You watched as she dug under your undergarments to reach between your thighs, lust in her delighted eyes as she searched for your hardening nipples once more.

“No--!” You whined loudly, chest heaving as the sensation of her fondling overcoming you.

“Yes,” She whispered, giggling at how your eyebrows furrowed in frustration and hopelessness.

You wished at every moment with her that you hadn’t been the one to be sacrificed in your village, that the creatures known as Lamias were just a bedtime story your elders made up, that you were still at home in the warmth of your bed. You wished that even if you had to endure this fate, you could have at least gotten a creature who did what it was supposed to. You weren’t supposed to be a “mate,” you were supposed to be an unfortunate meal for an insatiable beast.

Well, to be fair, that's still exactly what you were.

You were only able to sit there, to watch as Nyoka planted love bites to your neck, relishing every time your hip flexed from her fingers. You were grateful that at least she was mindful of her claws, gently touching you to avoid drawing blood. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t tease you, softly raking her nails against your flesh to make you shiver. Trying to toss and turn away didn’t seem to help, you found. It only caused her to want to toy with you more, make you surrender to her. Your struggle motivated her.

But she was ready to push you to your limits. Pinching your oh so sensitive chest, Nyoka’s pace sped up, biting your earlobe as she watched you twitch and squirm at the newfound pleasure. Sobs began to leave your chapped lips, mixed with angry sounds of bliss. You were upset, irate, and so very worked up. Nyoka laughed at your sweet, conflicted expression.

“Mine… my adorable little prey.”

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