#buggy tickle

[gigglz]

ALRIGHT CAN WE TALK ABOUT THE FACT THAT THIS GUY

IS CANONICALLY TICKLISH???😭 i was watching the live action (BUGGY IS JUST SO QUWYEHFNSVDHFH) and remember this little fact from the anime

[shanksxbuggy]

For your listening pleasure…Buggy’s voice

[cringeandproud]

A healthy reminder

Buggy the clown is canonically ticklish

[switch-writer]

Blueberry haired and Raspberry haired

A/N: AHHH THIS IS SO LATE, BUT HEY @stopiteatpopcorn , I WAS YOUR SQUEALING SANTA. I hope you like it and that it was worth the wait! I didn’t wanna force myself to write this because as someone who’s your friend, and as I do with all squealing Santa events, I PUT MY ALL INTO IT. And we know when we force ourselves to write, it’s just, BLAH. But hopefully you like it! I also kept texting you to subtly get ideas or know if I could write something so HAHA👹 I wanna thank a new friend of mine (who ironically isn’t in the tickle community) for giving me the idea of how to even START THIS FIC. So thank them👺🫵 I ALSO WANNA THANK OUR HOST FOR SQUEALING SANTA THIS YEAR. Always amazing to work with the host, and our host this year was lovely and understanding, so thank you! And without further rambling, this was fun to write and I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Shanks and Buggy cross paths, and the flashy clown has to figure out how to avoid a fight with Shanks without spilling everything. Meanwhile, Shanks isn’t too concerned and helps his friend lighten up… with some teasing of course.

Extra note: I didn’t proof read so there maybe spelling errors 🤡

Warnings: Tickles, foot tickles, I don’t remember if there’s swearing, I don’t think there’s anything else.

See. This was unexpected. In fact, if you told Buggy this was a day he’d meet Shanks once again. Not even close to the top of his guesses. Yet, here he was, making eye contact with Shanks…

And he was horrified. His crew was cheering and ready to loyally watch their captain take on a rival, one of the strongest pirates of the sea, the famous red haired Shanks! This was beyond exciting, they could barely contain their joy as they stood behind their Captain.

As for This Captain… The blue haired Captain was trembling in pure shock, not only did he know of Shank’s power… but Shanks had the power to piss him off like no other. It was like it’s own devil fruit.

So here Buggy was, trembling in some sort of mixed emotion as the red haired pirate smiled in a laid back manner, as if aware of his feelings and chose to observe.

“Dammit! Make the first move!”

“Haha! Clowns first, you know that rule!” Shanks called with his confident yet relaxed tone, not worried in the slightest as he teased. However, this comment happened to make an emotion in Buggy take dominance…

Anger.

“NOSE?! I NOSE THAT RULE—?! Why You Little—!”

And the chop chop fruit went to work as Buggy split in two pieces, namely his torso ‘chopped’ off from his waist, and he and his torso went straight up to Shanks, flying up to him.

“YOU BETTER NOT SAY ANOTHER WORD OF MY NOSE—!” Buggy squawked, Shanks letting a soft laugh out as he flashed a smile. “Ah, you never change, Buggy.” The pirate with a higher bounty spoke with those hazed eyes, causing more complaints from the blue haired pirate.

“WHAT?! I’ve changed lots, mind you! You just don’t know it yet, you haven’t seen anything yet!” His hands detached as he gripped Shanks by his shirt, poking his chest as well as the fellow pirate smirked softly, amused by how easily provoked Buggy happened to be.

Meanwhile, Buggy’s crew was in awe. “Captain is handling Red Haired like he’s not afraid of a thing he could do… our Captain is unbeatable!” They cheered out, snapping the squawking and squabbling pirate out of his focus to glance back at the crew he led.

“…Hmph.” Buggy huffed, calming down… as much as Buggy could.

“You have quite a crew, a supportive one at that.” Shanks spoke with a calming tone, sounding… happy for Buggy. The clown seemed shocked, becoming choked up as his crew members continued to cheer…

“Hah! Of course! We’re the best crew around!” The Chop Chop Man exclaimed cockily. “Haha! Of course you are.” Shanks commented. “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean! That sounded sarcastic!” Buggy scolded before crossing his arms despite his hands still gripping Shanks’ shirt.

But within a couple moments, Buggy and Shanks went into private, just a simple little room as their crews stood back and let them ‘sort things out’ and whatnot. In actuality, they were just going to chat so Buggy could avoid the fight and not get bested in combat so miserably.

So here they were… And this was… horribly awkward. Especially now that Buggy stopped whining.

“…Well aren’t you going to say something?!”

Nevermind.

“We have time, don’t we? Tell me, what’s the recent?” Shanks spoke calmly, his charming smile always remaining on his face. Although, this question managed to make the clown defensive.

“Lots of things! Of course we’re planning on storming the grand line, finding all the treasure in the world, and taking out every pirate we cross!” Buggy protests, refusing to show any small bumps in this little plan of his. “Oh?” The redhead spoke before adding onto his sentence.

“So what about me then?” “Eh?” The blueberry— I mean blue haired man seemed flustered. “You said you’d destroy any pirates in your way… right?” “W-Well, yes—!” Buggy spoke with little confidence, trying to avoid what Shanks was implying.

“So, why not go up against me?”

Oh come on! He made this impossible to avoid! What excuse would even make sense other than ‘I’m a wussy!’

“Because… I have my reasons and I don’t need to explain them!”

That caused a moment of silence, his fumbled sentence made his reasons a mystery, and that seemed to surprise Shanks since usually Buggy couldn’t keep a thing from him.

“…Oh? Well… in that case, Buggy.” Shanks began before grinning.

“Let’s play a game.”

The Genius Jester seemed to be caught off guard once more, but listened intently.

“I’ll try and get you to confess your reasonings, and you resist.” And that seemed easy enough, thank goodness! Hah! This will obviously be easy! So, Buggy pridefully crossed his arms and stuck up his nose— erm, stuck up his chin, as if radiating his ego with his body language.

“Hah! Do your worst!” The Clown spoke as the lacking strawhat Captain seemed glad he had fallen into his little game. His little trap.

Shanks slowly stood from his seat, and slowly approached Buggy… and walked behind Buggy.

Was this an intimidation tactic? Buggy couldn’t tell! But it was horrifying! Horrific even! “Hey—! Watch it—!” Buggy attempted to speak before suddenly letting a shriek out, feeling a little bit of a tickle… or rather multiple tickles around his neck as he quickly tried to flip around.

And as expected, he was met with that smile… but with a mischievous hint to it.

“Still got weaknesses from our days as rookies?”

No.

“Don’t—!” Buggy fumbled. “Why not? It clearly still works.”

Don’t.

“T-That doesn’t mean it’s fair!” The clown exclaimed before a small chuckle left Shanks. “Well, consider it payback since you never played fair.”

And despite that, Buggy couldn’t think of another word before his own laughter bubbled out of his throat from tickling around his belly, causing loud but the famously silly laughs from Buggy. They were more authentic and less dramatized!

Only authentic for the ‘fan’ who’s been there since the start.

“Do you give in?” “N-NEHEVER! Nohot a chance—!”

And suddenly, Shanks raised him up from the chair and pushed him with his arm onto the bed, causing Buggy to fall right over. And within a moment, Shanks was sitting on his waist, spidering and scribbling his fingers on the clown’s belly, causing everything but him staying quiet, nor still as he snorted, his limbs flailing yet never reaching where he needed them to.

“S-SHAHAAAANKS!”

“Oho. That was like a battle cry. What’s up?” “PFF— QUHUIT IT! I-I demahand you s-stohop it!” “Oh? Hmm… no can do. I haven’t heard anything but laughing from you, and I definitely didn’t hear any reasons.”

Oh come on! Buggy would’ve sulked if he wasn’t smiling bigger and brighter than a star, but out of the blue… he felt something. He finally didn’t feel tickling all over his belly, but he also felt Shanks.. oh no. Nonono. Not this. Not again. What’s with happy people who wear strawhats or have worn strawhats and this—?!

“Wait—! Waitwaitwait—! Shanks—! Don’t you dare—!” Buggy protests, trying to grab at Shanks before Shanks flipped himself around, now facing his lower half and slipped his shoe off.

“Alright! I’ll count down. 3…”

“SHANKS—!”

“2…”

“Don’t—! Don’tyoueven—!”

“1!”

And due to Shanks knowing how to work around lacking an arm, he sat on his leg, good for Shanks! But awful for Buggy who couldn’t move his foot.

And the moment he felt the gentle touch of Shank’s fingers skittering around, he admittedly was laughing like a hyena, not that it’s inherently out of character for him, but not something you’d hear everyday. Admittedly, as loud as Buggy was, after he’d squeal, he’d start laughing more… softly? It still had the raspiness in his voice, but it was much softer after he got used to the feeling.

“Kitchee koo?”

“sHUT UP—!”

It brought that smile Shanks had to a grin, he enjoyed seeing his old friend laugh…

But on the other hand, Buggy didn’t ever have this much endurance when he was younger… did he get less ticklish when he grew up? Possibly… but not quite… more endurance maybe?

Nonetheless, Shanks was stumped. It seems more like his friend was enjoying it, which was good, but he wasn’t willing to fess up. As rewarding as the happy laughter was, Shanks still had to tease him. That’s what left Buggy on his feet.

Oh ironic. Shanks chuckled before stopping, letting his friend take breaths and relax as the redhead hummed, thinking this over… What else could he do? He needed another little push…

“Oh! Buggy!”

“Oh what now?! Was that not enough?!” Buggy whined frustratedly, although it was clear he didn’t truly care that much. He was always dramatic about situations, especially to keep up his pride, and that added to his charm… erm well. ‘Charm.’

“Haha! I just had an idea is all. It may get you talking?” And the clown pouted. “Oh you’re joking!” He huffed out, moody despite the playful situation. It wasn’t that it was that bad, but his pride surely didn’t like it.

Although… The childish action sparked memories! Happy memories… and it was heartwarming for Buggy to think back on them…

BUT! If that stupid pirate who lost his strawhat thinks he can make him all soft and happy, he has another thing coming!

“Pff. I promise I’ll stop if this doesn’t work, alright?” Oh. Well… fine. Buggy nodded approvingly with his chin up high in pride, whether or not he wanted the memories to stop, this red haired whatever his face is isn’t gonna win!

With that, the man with the scars around his eye smiled casually… and lifted his shirt up. “…What.” Buggy mumbled in confusion. What could he possibly—

And suddenly Buggy’s thoughts were interrupted by… a loud high pitched squeal. One a coward would have. And it was followed by hearty laughter.

Granted, Buggy was a squealer, but Shanks’ laughter afterwards was his signature, beyond recognizable.

“Oh that’s great! Gold even! Let me do that again!” And Shanks leaned down to his belly, and blew a raspberry straight onto his tummy, causing not only the funny noise to ring out, but another squealy shrieky laugh from Buggy as he threw his head back in laughter, his hair flopping around as he wiggled.

“DAHAHAMMIT—! H-Hahave mercy—! Nonono noT AGAHAHAIN—!”

Buggy kept getting attacked by raspberries, not only causing a ticklish sensation, but the sounds and noises making him laugh, especially when Shanks would laugh half way through the raspberry.

And if this wasn’t a spinning image of when they were children, then nothing was. It was ironic to see this play out.

“Okay!! OKAY—! I’ll tell you—! Just quHUHUIT—!” And one final big raspberry on the belly, and Shanks lifted himself up, laughing softly and yet with his whole heart.

And admittedly, they were just sitting there laughing and giggling for about 30 seconds before Buggy forced himself back to reality and stood to his feet. “N-Now this isn’t over! Just because I gave in doesn’t mean— wait where’s my…” Buggy quickly checked for his shoe before Shanks tossed it over.

And then Buggy went right back to speaking, pulling his boot on. “— It doesn’t mean that I am weaker than you! I just… pitied your attempts and thought it was such a waste of time.”

“Right.” Shanks smirked, a cheeky smirk of course as he leaned back. “Is this a good time to confess I actually just wanted to play around and didn’t care?”

Silence…

“OH YOU LITTLE—!” Buggy stormed over, causing Shanks to laugh once more as usual…

“LETS SEE HOW YOU LIKE IT THEN—!”

And with that, it was safe to say their crews didn’t see them for a little while… but it was worth it for them to relive some memories and have some fun… and of course, take one another down a notch…

Or namely, a clown was taken down a notch or two, as for the redhaired pirate… we can only guess, hm?

[impel-clown]

Crocodile thinking there will be a next time may not be factoring in that Buggy may die here on the floor. Hopefully the newspapers will word it nicely. Something like, ‘After a long battle with his treacherous subordinates, The Emperor, Buggy The Clown, decided his time on this earth was over and died. The world is in mourning as there will never be anyone as amazing and flashy as him.’.

Instead of a more accurate, ‘Clown tickle-fucked to death’.

[erasedcitizen2]

EA releasing both dragon age the veilguard and the sims 4 life and death on the exact same day sure is a choice made to torture me specifically

[squeakheart]

Have u seen this fic?? https://archiveofourown.org/works/51545083?view_adult=true

buggy overstimulation .. waow .. thank you anonymous do-gooder i would never have seen this otherwise

[oh-a-very-toxic-octopus]

Jim's "oh" when the tunnel proved to be a mighty 60m long or something.

You'd expect a tunnel that has A PLAQUE at the local auberge to be a little longer, perhaps.

[ghostlovesbaguettes]

HE WHIMPERED GUYS. JOEL FINALLY WHIMPERED AGAIN. THIS IS IT. THIS IS EVERYTHING IVE EVER WANTED. #ifhedoesntwhimperiaintfreakinit

outfuckingstanding job on this bookie. live laugh fucking loved this shit. i was reading this and it’s talking all about how ciggies feel and i’m like ohhh yeah yeah right. i’ve literally never touched a cigarette before. and yet i was absolutely freakin with this shit 😏😏😏😩😩✋😋 (gobble gobble)

anyway i literally made this before i even finished the story

Bad Habit

“Don’t you ever start smokin’. If I catch ya with one of these in that mouth of yours, I’ll make you regret it,” he said, exhaling smoke. “I will make you fuckin’ regret it.”

After Joel catches you smoking, he gives you something else to put between your lips. (7.2k)

Tags - dbf!joel, neighbor!joel, pervy/sleazy yet comforting Joel, cock from a man who could be your second father, smut, smoking, dubcon elements, blowjobs, masturbation, joel jorks it, oral sex, unprotected piv, creampie, joel makes you smoke until you’re sick to your stomach, vomiting, gratuitous use of the nickname ‘kiddo’ because I am who I am, dubcon, the other stuff Fic help - thank you my dearest @noxturnalpascal for editing <3 and @pinkypromisepascal for giving me your eyeballs and leaving lovely comments, my other main squeezes for brainstorming with me!! @endlessthxxghts @beefrobeefcal A/N - heddo!I sorry for the delay on getting this out. fic posting will continue to be sporadic and weird for a while so thank you for being patient <3 i hope you all have a safe week and I love you very much 🫂💕 definitely didn’t skip class to finish this and watch gilmore girls btw so if you hear that rumor about me it is bullshit it is not true at all

The cool, late-summer air blows gently on your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake as you sit next to your open window, headphones on, Fiona Apple’s When The Pawn… playing in your ears. You take a long drag of your cigarette and let it fill and burn your lungs, then blow the smoke outside. The sun is setting, the dim light making everything in your room look like a black and white movie, even your own hand in front of you. You love nights like these. 

Eyes gently shut, you’re lost in thought when a tapping on the glass startles you. You gasp when you see Joel, his big hand clutching a large garbage bag. He must have seen you on his way taking the trash out. 

Joel’s your neighbor, he’s been your neighbor all your life. He’s your dad’s closest friend as well, and had a heavy hand in raising you. You used to eat at his house for dinner on Sunday nights, a tradition that’s lasted to present day. As a teenager, you’d spend days and nights at his house when you and your dad weren’t getting along, needing some space from each other. Joel was always a safe person for you to go to. His guest room practically became your second bedroom by the time you graduated. Joel taught you card games, and would make you root beer floats while you played round after round of Rummy. 

Joel was actually the first person to introduce you to smoking. Unintentionally, of course. You can remember him always smelling warmly of tobacco, smelling it on his hair, skin, and clothes when you’d hug him. When you were younger, he told you once, cigarette in his mouth, “Don’t you ever start smokin’. If I catch ya with one of these in that mouth of yours, I’ll make you regret it,” he said, exhaling smoke, “I will make you fuckin’ regret it.”

“Hey, trouble,” Joel drawls. “You ain’t ‘sposed to be smokin’ that.” 

Joel reaches for your cigarettes and pulls it from your mouth, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. He examines it, chuckling quietly at the feeling of the stickiness of your lipgloss on the rolling paper. He brings it to his mouth, then takes a couple puffs before stubbing the cigarette out on the sole of his shoe, then disposes it in his garbage bag. Your dad doesn’t need to see your old cigarette stubs when he’s mowing the lawn. “Don’t let me catch ya again,” he warns, then presses a warm kiss to your forehead, mustache tickling your skin. “Get some sleep. G’night, kiddo.”

This isn’t the first time Joel’s caught you smoking. The first time he did, you were probably around eighteen years old. You remember that it was around Thanksgiving, the leaves were still falling off the trees and the air was chilly. It was an evening when Joel and your dad were hanging out in the kitchen, watching a Bears and Cowboys game on TV. Rooting for the opposite teams, your dad and Joel were barking at each other, getting loud and rowdy. There was no escape from the noise, so you snuck out of your bedroom window and just started walking. Joel left his garage door open, so you decided to hang out there. You admired the posters on the wall, Nirvana and The Rolling Stones. Different liquor brand artwork, picked up from when he used to work as a bartender. The garage never changed, always had that faint smell of cigarettes permeating the air. 

Cigarettes. They were on the workbench in the back of the garage, a pack of Marlboro reds just sitting there, waiting to be smoked. To the left of the pack, a little white Bic lighter. You weren’t sure what came over you at that moment but you palmed both items, then peeked over your shoulder to make sure you really were as alone as you thought you were. You held your breath and focused hard, and found that you were able to hear the faint sounds of Joel and your dad yelling. You were in the clear. 

You opened the worn pack of Marlboros and pulled out one of the cigarettes, the first time you ever held one in your hand. You rolled it between your fingers, inspecting it, before you brought it to your nose to smell the tobacco. With trembling hands you placed the cigarette between your lips, and as you fumbled with the little white lighter, Joel’s warning played over and over again in your mind. If I catch ya with one of these in that mouth of yours, I’ll make you regret it.

But Joel wasn’t there. And what Joel didn’t know wouldn’t kill him. So you lit the cigarette and inhaled, then coughed a bit at the sensation. It was harsh, made your throat feel itchy and scratchy. You didn’t like the way the smoke burned your lungs and you couldn’t wrap your head around how Joel - anyone, for that matter - could become addicted to something as unpleasant as this. You took another puff for the sake of experimenting and you were met with the same experience. Unpleasant. But by the third or fourth drag, you felt the beginning of that headrush everyone talks about. A lightheaded, hazy sort of feeling. Now that…that wasn’t quite so unpleasant. You could see exactly how cigarettes could relieve stress. Taking another puff, you thought maybe you’d steal one or two more from the pack, save them for the end of the week. Smoke them when you’re home from school, before your dad or Joel could see you. And then you’ll shower real quick, wash your hair and brush your teeth and toss your clothes in the washer and -

“The hell do you think you’re doin’?” 

Shit. 

You pulled the cigarette out of your mouth and stubbed it out in a nearby ashtray on Joel’s workbench. “N-nothing.” 

“Bullshit, you’re smokin’,” Joel bit, approaching you through the open garage door. “So help me god, kid...” He snatched his pack of cigarettes from you, along with his lighter. “Stealin’, too. These are my smokes. What the fuck’s the matter with you?” 

“Joel, I’m sorry. I-” 

“You ain’t sorry, yet. Get in the truck.” 

“Joel-”

“Get. In. The fucking. Truck.” he seethed. He wore such a threatening scowl, and his face and neck were red, veins bulging in his skin as his anger grew. 

You scurried into his truck that sat on the driveway and Joel followed suit, slamming the door shut before turning the key into the ignition. Even the truck sounded angry as it roared to life. Joel shifted into reverse and drove you down the street, to the nearest gas station. “Stay there,” he ordered. 

You awaited his return anxiously, picking at your nails. Joel returned with a new pack of Marlboro reds and drove back to his home. “Garage,” he said. 

“But my dad-”

“Garage.” 

 If I catch ya with one of these in that mouth of yours, I’ll make you regret it.

Joel made good on his promise. He sat you down in front of the workbench, right where you were before. He lowered the garage door until it rested just about a foot off the ground so that the smoke had somewhere to go. Then he sat in front of you, hit the pack of cigarettes on his palm five times before unwrapping the cellophane and opening the pack. Joel took one cigarette out and flipped it upside down in the pack. 

“What are you doing?”

“Christ almighty,” he sighs. “You’re so fuckin’ young. You pack the cigarettes first, so they burn smoother an’ longer.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. And then you flip your lucky - just the one cigarette.” Joel pulled the upside down cigarette from the pack to demonstrate. “Old World War II tradition, if I’m not mistaken. ‘Sposed to be a good luck charm.” 

Joel pulled one cigarette from the pack for you, placed it between your lips and lit it. He could see the confused expression on your face as you inhale and exhale. 

“Just you wait,” he said. “I promise you, this is a punishment.” 

“How?”

“You’re gonna sit here with me and smoke every last cigarette in that pack. I don’t care f’your lungs start to burn and you feel sick to your stomach, you’re smokin’ ‘em all,” he said. “Now get to it.” 

Joel watched you as you smoked cigarette after cigarette. He was right, your lungs did start to ache and hurt and your stomach had begun to feel queasy from all the nicotine. After about the sixth or seventh, you had figured out that you could make things a little easier on yourself by not breathing in the smoke all the way, just let it hang out in your mouth instead. 

“I started smokin’ when I was around your age,” Joel said as he lit another cigarette for you. “Couldn’t ‘a been older than seventeen.”

You nodded. 

“Why’d you pick this habit up, huh? You know these things aren’t any good for ya.” 

“I don’t know,” you sighed, ashing onto the garage floor. “I just…I don’t know. Stressed out.”

“‘Bout what?”

You shrugged. “Just everything, I guess.” 

Joel nodded. “I get it,” he said. “But there’s other ways of relievin’ stress that ain’t smokin’.” 

“Like what?”

“Well,” Joel began, looking down at his lap. “The cigarettes are causin’ that brain of yours to release those feel-good chemicals. You gotta find something else that feels good, hon. M’sure you’ll figure out what that means.” 

 You felt your cheeks heat up at the implication of how to get your endorphins flowing, but you knew he wasn’t wrong. You nodded shyly. 

“Now keep smokin’.” 

“Joel,” you whined, coughing dryly. 

“Keep it up,” he threatened, “I’ll make it two packs.” 

What felt like hours passed until you finally made it to the last two cigarettes in the pack, and you felt ill. “C’mon,” Joel said. “Last two. I’m smokin’ the last one with ya, and then we’re done, both of us,” he promised. He lit his cigarette first, then yours, and then took a drag. You did too, though it was agony. 

“I don’t feel so good, Joel,” you told him, clutching your stomach and squirming in your seat as the nauseating feeling in your stomach worsened. 

“Good,” Joel retorted. “Means the punishment’s workin’. You ain’t ‘sposed to feel good.” You looked at Joel with glassy eyes, your skin a little damp with sweat. “You okay, sweetheart?”

You shook your head. Your stomach churned harder, you felt your mouth salivate as your heart began to beat faster. There was no more staving off the feeling - you dropped your cigarette and sprinted inside, making a beeline for Joel’s bathroom. Joel followed close behind and rubbed your back as you emptied your guts into his toilet until you were dry-heaving. “Oh, I know, I know,” he whispered, patting you gently. “You’re gonna be okay.” 

“Fuck,” you groaned, lifting your head up and leaning back to rest against Joel. He flushed the toilet for you, then helped you up so you could rinse your mouth out in the sink. 

“It don’t feel too good, huh?” he murmured, stroking the side of your face. “You’re gonna be a good girl for me? Gonna quit smokin’?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Yeah, I’m done.”

“Attagirl,” Joel smiled. 

Joel offered you some Pepto-Bismol and guided you to his couch, where he held you and talked. After about forty-five minutes, he sent you home. Your dad was none the wiser, probably passed out on his own couch after the game. Joel kept your secret under the condition that you’d quit smoking for good, and he quit too. In all honesty, he was shaken that it was his cigarettes you’d stolen, and disturbed by the fact he was the one to introduce you to tobacco - your dad didn’t smoke, never has. He had unknowingly introduced you to it, of course, but Joel still held himself responsible. Joel meant it, smoking that last cigarette with you. He decided that night he was quitting cold turkey. He was done.

-

You should have been done too. You shouldn’t still be doing this. And that pack of Marlboros in your purse shouldn’t be there, you should have thrown it out the other night when Joel caught you smoking out of your window. But you’re in Joel’s backyard, cigarette between your fingers as you listen to the sounds of the family barbecue taking place in your own backyard. 

It was just too much. Your family increases in size every year, be it a new partner, new family friends, new children. And your family is loud. Every conversation happens using raised voices, even if no one is speaking in anger. Boisterous laughter, dogs barking, shrill squeals of excited kids running through sprinklers. There’s no escape from it at all, unless you’re to escape it entirely - so that’s exactly what you did, and why you’re at Joel’s house instead of your own. You needed a momentary reprieve. Separated by nothing more than a thin fence and yet it makes all the difference. Joel’s backyard is quiet, serene. He keeps his fence lined with flowers that he had you pick out at the nursery, he has a nice deck with a comfortable patio furniture set. You rock back and forth in one of the chairs as you smoke, promising yourself after this cigarette - or maybe just one more - you’ll go back to the party. 

The glass patio door slides open, causing you to jump and scramble to put your cigarette out, but you’re too late. Joel’s always a step ahead, somehow. “What are you doin’, kiddo?” he asks in a low, accusatory tone. 

“Nothing,” you lie. 

“You’re smokin’.”

You hang your head. Joel sits in the chair next to you and holds out his hand, palm facing up. You sigh and place your pack in his hand. “I’m sorry.” 

“Uh-huh,” Joel says. “Why’re you still doin’ this? You’re poisoning yourself, sweetheart. It’s breakin’ my heart.” 

You shrug. “I don’t know,” you admit. You open your mouth to speak again, then exhale when you give up. 

“I want you to try,” he urges. “Jus’ talk to me, hon, you’re not in trouble right now. Tell me what’s goin’ on.” 

“Okay,” you nod. You take a deep breath, then begin to explain. “I want to quit, Joel. I do. I tried gum and patches…”

“Go on. I’m listenin’.” 

“They worked for a while, I guess. I was even able to stop entirely, get past the nicotine withdrawals. They weren’t even so bad.” 

“Right,” Joel nods, “But what?”

“It’s stupid.” 

“S’not stupid. Keep tellin’ me.” 

“I missed the ritual of it all, if that makes sense,” you confess. “ Lighting it, holding it. Watching the smoke. Feeling it in my mouth.” You find the courage to look at Joel, and he’s not making fun of you for your admission. He’s nodding along, listening intently. “It’s sort of soothing.” 

“I get it,” he says. “I do.”

“You do?”

“Mhm. S’called an oral fixation, sweetheart. Means it calms ya down to have somethin’ in that mouth of yours. You heard of it?” You shake your head no, and Joel explains further. “Same reason some people bite their nails or chew on straws. Jus’ somethin’ people do.” 

“Oh.” 

“Mhm. You should try keepin’ your mouth busy with somethin’ else.” 

Your mouth goes dry, and you feel yourself becoming flustered. “Joel…” you whisper. 

“Quite the imagination you got there, huh?” he smirks, nudging your knee with his own. “M’not talkin’ about that, dirty bird. Do you have a sweet tooth at all?”

“Um,” you hum, “I guess.” 

“I got a sweet tooth myself,” Joel replies. “C’mon inside.” 

Joel leads you inside, and he doesn’t bother to sneakily throw your cigarettes in the trash. He makes sure you can see it, hear the thud of the pack hitting the bottom of the can. You stand in his kitchen as he opens his freezer and rifles through some items. “Pick a flavor,” he says, “I got green apple, grape, cherry, and lemon.” 

“Cherry,” you answer. 

Joel pulls out a cherry-flavored popsicle and unwraps it for you. “Open,” he says, then places the cold, sweet and tart ice on your tongue. Your hand brushes his when you grab the wooden stick, watching him. You can see the way his pupils dilate when you suck on it, how his chest rises when he sucks in a deep breath. Joel feels his cock begin to thicken in his jeans and abruptly clears his throat. “So, uh, anyway,” he stutters, “It helps to suck on somethin’ sweet. I’ll keep my freezer stocked with these for ya, you just let me know if you have any flavor requests. You help yourself anytime you’re havin’ one of your cravings.”

You pull the popsicle from your mouth, your lips stained red. “Thanks, Joel,” you smile. 

“You’d best get back to that party, hon. I’ll catch up with ya in a minute, nature’s callin’,” he teases, quickly excusing himself into his nearby bathroom. He hears you giggle and whine, “Gross,” as you leave his house. Joel watches you through the frosted bathroom window as you sneak back into the party. He’s palming his growing bulge, pressing his hand firmly against it until he can’t see you anymore, then quickly unzips his jeans and pulls out his cock, leaking and hard. He spits into his hand and strokes himself, his rough palm sliding up and down his thick, veiny cock, squeezing hard. He pumps himself and groans when he comes, spilling into his palm and on his fingers. Joel washes his hands, tucks himself back into his jeans and makes his way back to the barbecue. 

-

You’re in Joel’s truck. It was a long day of work, the phone was ringing nonstop and you could hardly catch a break, though Joel gave you extra time on your lunch to make up for the crappy day. He has you helping him out with his contracting job, having you answer phones and schedule estimates and whatnot. He likes having you around, giving you a little money to burn as you expand your resume. 

At six, Joel tossed you his truck keys and told you he’d be right out there, but that he’s gotta finish up with a client real quick first. “Go ‘head and start up the truck for me, hon, I’ll be out there soon. Shouldn’t be more than ten minutes,” he promised. But that was an hour ago, and it’s beginning to get dark. You’re itching to leave. On days you work with Joel, he’s your ride. Oftentimes it’s a blessing as he’s the one paying for gas and driving through traffic, but other times, it’s a curse. You’re on Joel’s time, itching to leave and he’s…doing whatever he’s doing.

You’re getting that feeling again. You’re not sure why, but it’s been happening more and more lately. You’ve been absolutely craving a cigarette recently. Just one, maybe two. You shouldn’t have done it, but you bought a pack at the gas station. Promised yourself you’d save it for special occasions but after this pack, you’d be done. For good. 

You’re just dying for one right now. Turning the pack over in your hand, you watch, anticipating seeing Joel leaving the building. But it never happens. Fuck it. You take a cigarette out of your pack and place it between your lips, and just before you light it, you stop. You look around in his truck, see if he’s got a straw from a fast food restaurant in his glove box that you could chew on, maybe a toothpick. At least you tried. It certainly doesn’t help that it smells like cigarette smoke in here anyway, what with Tommy always smoking when he drives with Joel. You resign yourself to lighting the cigarette, inhaling that smoke you missed so much. That familiar burn doesn’t quite hurt the same way it used to and in fact, it’s a welcome pain now. You love that tingly, heady feeling of the nicotine entering your bloodstream. You exhale the smoke out of the window of the truck and close your eyes. 

You think about lots of things, what you’re gonna eat for dinner when you get home, what movie you’re gonna watch. What flavor popsicle you’ll steal from Joel’s freezer. You think about which vibrator you’re gonna use between your thighs, which ones are charged and which aren’t. 

You’re not being subtle. Shamelessly blowing smoke out of the window, Joel can see you. And in fact, he’s been watching you. He’s fuming as he walks toward his truck and opens his door, startling you and causing you to drop the lit cigarette on your lap. “You are un-fuckin’-believable,” he seethes as he leans over you to pick it up off of your thighs and tosses it out of the window. “In my truck? Are you fuckin’ serious?”

“Joel, I’m sorry–”

“Shut up,” he interrupts. “You pissed me off. I don’t wanna hear it.” 

You shrink into your seat and stare at your lap, anxiously circling your thumbs around each other as Joel breathes deeply. He leans back in the driver’s seat and pinches the bridge of his nose, groaning angrily. 

“Joel–”

“Don’t.”

In Joel’s head, he counts backwards from ten, attempting to let go of some of his rage. He looks at you, your eyes are big and pleading, those plump lips of yours are pouting, just begging, aching for something to fit snugly between them. “What am I gonna do with you, kiddo,” he whispers, reaching for your face and cupping your cheek. Fuck, that goddamn soft spot he has for you. “All sorts ‘a trouble you could go an’ get yourself into and you pick the one that’s makin’ you sick.” 

You nod, feeling guilty for putting Joel through this stress. You know he’s right. You’re gonna drive him to pick up the addiction again himself.

He rubs his calloused thumb back and forth over your cheekbone, looking at you with those big, brown eyes of his. They’re sparkling under the diminishing daylight, looking darker than they usually do. He’s so handsome. He’s always been so handsome. 

“Maybe you need to get into a different kinda trouble,” Joel murmurs. 

You pause. “Like what?”

“You know what kinda trouble,” he answers softly, assertively. You look down at his lap and notice that with his free hand, he’s begun palming his crotch, cock hardening in his jeans. “Somethin’ else to satisfy that fuckin’ fixation of yours.”

Joel unzips his jeans and pulls his cock out, half hard and growing. “Gimme your hand,” he instructs. He doesn’t wait for you to comply, and takes the pack of Marlboros you had forgotten you were holding out of your hand. He takes your hand and first spits in it, then wraps it around his cock, his fingers wrapped around your wrist as he helps you stroke him. His cock grows to full length in your hand, so thick and hard and meaty. “On your knees, now,” he says. “C’mon. You know what you’re doin’.” 

You sink to your knees and Joel slides to the center of the seat so you’re as close to him as can be. He spreads his legs apart and you slot yourself snugly between them, a hand on each one of his thick thighs. It feels surreal, being in this position. Joel senses your nervousness, and you look so vulnerable on your knees for him. Poor thing. 

He leans forward a little to tangle his fingers in your hair and then pulls you down, ushering you toward his hard cock. “Open up f’me,” he says. You part your lips and he presses the warm, blunt head against them. You open your jaw wider and he pushes you down on his cock, filling your mouth entirely. “Nice an’ wide. That’s it.” 

Joel keeps pushing you down, past the point of comfortability and you choke and sputter on his cock when he hits the back of your throat. “Just relax a minute,” Joel says. “An’ breathe through your nose, kiddo. You’ll get used to it.” 

With his hand tangled in your hair, it’s less of you moving of your own volition and more of Joel guiding you, making you take him down your throat the way he wants you to. You like that. As your head dips lower and bobs back up again, you swirl and drag your tongue along his shaft, tasting that heady, musky flavor of his cock, the salty precum when your tongue slides over his small slit.“Yeah, you know what to do,” Joel groans. “Ohh, that’s it. Good girl.” 

You feel his cock pulsing under your tongue, a welcome experience. There’s something so intimate and satisfying about learning all of the exact, fine details of what Joel’s pleasure looks and tastes like. He rolls his hips to meet you where you’re at, taking control of his pleasure, doing all the work himself. Sweat is beginning to gather on his body, dripping down his temples and gathering on his soft tummy. He can’t help but feel a little like he’s taking advantage of you right now, but he doesn’t feel bad enough to stop. In fact, it turns him on more. Joel thinks that maybe it even turns you on, too, what with the way you let out quiet, sweet little moans. “You like it, don’t you, baby?” 

“Mm-hmm,” you hum. 

“I know you do,” Joel coos. “Feels good, don’t it?”

You nod your head, moaning as you slide your tongue along his length, swirling it around his head before dipping lower again, your nose buried in those thick curls spattered around the base of his cock, dampened by your saliva. “What a mess you’re makin’,” Joel murmurs, enjoying those wet, sloppy noises you’re making. “Such a good girl f’me, you’re takin’ it so good.” 

You reach for his balls, cupping them and rolling them gently in your palm, eliciting a sharp gasp from Joel. “Oh, fuck,” he groans, “That’s it, kiddo, keep doin’ it jus’ like that. Goddamn.” 

Joel basks in the feeling of being inside your hot, wet mouth, feeling you suck and slobber on him, the dizzying feeling of your tongue teasing his shaft and his head. It’s all so soft, so slick and warm. He can feel it in his stomach, his balls begin to tighten as he approaches release. Joel takes your head in both of his big, masculine hands and fucks your mouth hard. “Oh, Christ,” he hisses. “Fuck, ohhh, fuck.” 

With just a few more deep, frenetic thrusts, Joel comes in your mouth without a warning, just a guttural, deep groan. He paints your tongue with his hot, salty spend, ropes and ropes of it spurting from his thick, twitching cock. He fucks your mouth through his orgasm, his thrusts turning slower, more shallow in time as you take every last bit of his come, swallowing it all. 

“Up,” he tells you, his voice raspy. “C’mere.” 

You sit next to Joel as he comes down from his high, his deep breathing beginning to regulate. Joel looks at you, wipes a bit of his come from your bottom lip with his thumb and pushes it inside your mouth, where you suck the digit and lick the spend. “S’all you needed, huh? My cock in your mouth?” Your face is hot and a little damp with sweat, your lips all swollen as you nod, a little sheepish. “No need to be bashful, sweetheart. S’okay. F’it works, it works.” 

Joel adjusts his jeans and turns up the air conditioner, then scoots back over into the driver’s seat. He pulls you close to his body, tucking you into his side as he shifts the truck into reverse, then drives out of the parking lot. “When that fixation of yours starts actin’ up again or you’re gettin’ nicotine cravings, you to come to me. Will you do that for me, sweetheart?”

You nod. “I will.” 

“Good girl,” he says. “I’ll get ya taken care of.” 

-

Your craving for a cigarette hits as early as the following night. To test you, Joel had surreptitiously dropped your last pack of cigarettes in your purse last night in his truck. You only noticed a little bit ago, when you were digging through your belongings to find your lip gloss. You could smoke them if you wanted to. You do want to. You could be sneakier about it, go for a walk and smoke somewhere Joel won’t see you. 

You slip on a pair of sneakers and throw a light sweatshirt over your shoulders, then walk out of your room and past your father in the living room. “Where you off to, sweetie?” he asks. 

“Just for a walk,” you answer quickly. To be honest, you weren’t expecting him to be awake. It’s late and the TV’s on, which usually means he’s sleeping. He can’t stay awake through any movie or TV show. 

“Mm,” he hums. “Be safe, honey. Come back soon, I don’t like you out too late all by yourself.” 

You promise your dad you’ll be back soon, then leave out of your front door and make a left. As you walk past your yard, then Joel’s, you realize he’s in his garage, tinkering with something at his workbench. He doesn’t see you, and you could walk on by without him noticing, smoke your secret cigarette and he’d be none the wiser. 

But you’d feel guilty. You feel guilty for even thinking about it. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, contemplating. Maybe Joel’s right, that you need to get yourself into a different kind of trouble. You used to feel thrilled when you’d drink underage or smoke when you shouldn’t have been. But Joel’s cock down your throat, on your knees for your dad’s best friend, a man who’s like a second father to you…Well, nothing compared to that thrill. 

You walk up Joel’s driveway and quietly into his garage, he’s got an old CD player on and he’s listening to Nirvana. “Joel?”

Joel turns to look over his shoulder and smiles at you. “Hey, you.” 

“I…” you struggle to get the words out. Joel nods in understanding, he knows exactly why you’re here. You’re such a good girl for him. Always been a good girl.

Joel pauses his CD player and takes your hand, then leads you inside his house. When you’ve finished sucking his cock, he tells you he’s glad you came to him and that he’s very proud of you. On your way home, you throw that pack of Marlboros away. And for once, you really are done. 

You suck his cock the next week at work, when you’re watching Tommy take a smoke break through the window next to your desk. You’re on the phone with one of Joel’s clients who’s been giving both you and him trouble all week, and you’re reaching the end of your rope with this guy. He’s old, impatient, and speaks so rudely to you. After you’ve argued with him in circles for about twenty minutes, he interrupts you and demands that you put him on the phone with a man. You’re livid. “Absolutely, sir. Let me place you on a brief hold and I’ll transfer you to my boss,” you tell him as sweetly. You press a few buttons on the phone and slam it on your desk, then march into Joel’s office, slamming the door and then locking it. 

Joel’s eyes light up. He rolls back in his chair and reaches behind himself to twist the blinds shut, then unzips his pants as you drop to your knees .

The routine happens day to day, week to week. Joel notices that there are days when you suck his cock aggressively, like you’re angry or you’re restless and antsy. But after a few weeks, they don’t quite feel that way anymore. You focus on his pleasure, and not your need to curb an addiction. It felt satisfying to have Joel’s cock down your throat before, and that certainly helped to satisfy your particular fixation. You’re more satisfied now at the notion of bringing Joel to absolute ecstasy, memorizing the way his breathing changes when you trace your tongue along his shaft and around his head. You’ve begun kissing up and down his length, gently sucking his balls and kissing his thighs, his tummy. You used to grip his thighs tight, digging your fingers into his flesh, but you hold his hand, now. It’s passion, adoration, maybe even love. You deserve the same pleasure, Joel thinks. 

Your dad’s out of town for a few days, he’s staying overnight in some city a few hours away for some work conference. He had stocked the fridge with different snacks and had tasked Joel with making sure you have something hot and filling each night for dinner, so you’ve spent the past few evenings at Joel’s house. 

 You’re on Joel’s couch, watching old reruns of Will and Grace on TV as Joel does the dishes. When he’s done, he joins you on the couch. When the show pauses for a commercial break, Joel mutes the TV. “Wanna talk to you ‘bout somethin’,” he says. You turn your attention to him. Joel’s hand drops to your thigh, and he scratches your skin lazily. His touch sends a jolt of excitement to your core. “You’ve been real good f’me, you know that, don’t you?” 

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. Been a long time since your last cigarette, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you reply, “Couple months, I think.” 

“S’what I thought,” he whispers. “An’ it’s why I wanna do somethin’ for ya.” 

“Do what?”

“Well,” Joel begins, inhaling deeply. His hand goes higher with every pass, fingers closer and closer to the apex of your thighs. You’re starting to feel hot. “I think it’s awful unfair ‘a me to be leavin’ you high and dry the way I’ve been. Not very gentlemanly, huh?” 

Joel’s fingers are wiggling beneath the fabric of your shorts, gently skating along your thin cotton panties. “Joel,” you whine. 

“I’m gonna make it even,” he murmurs softly into your ear, his hot breath tickling your neck. Joel drags the tip of his sharp, aquiline nose over the curve of your ear, then gently bites your earlobe, causing you to squirm. He smirks at that. “Gonna taste you.” 

Joel hovers over you, laying your body across his soft couch. He kneels as he hooks his fingers around your shorts and panties and pulls them down and off your legs, tossing them on the floor. 

His warm, big hands slide up your legs until he reaches your knees, “Spread your legs for me, sweetheart,” he says, and you part your thighs for him. He spreads them wider, pushing your knees toward your chest. Your nerves are on fire as he slides your shirt up your chest, exposing your bare body to him. “C’mere,” he mumbles, dipping his head low to kiss all over your torso, up your belly until he reaches the soft flesh of your breasts, nipping at the skin there before he sucks a nipple into his mouth. 

“Joel,” you gasp, your hands reaching for his head, fingers tangling in his thick, graying curls. He smirks against you as he kisses his way across to your other breast, repeating the same actions and kissing, licking down your stomach until he’s hovering over your pussy. Under the soft, warm light in the room, he admires your body. Your chest is rising and falling with shaky, nervous breaths. Your legs spread wide gives Joel the perfect view of your pussy, curls framing the shape of your cunt. Skin darkened and glistening wet, pearly ribbons of arousal delicately decorating your slick folds. He can’t wait any longer, he needs to taste you now. 

Joel quickly pulls his shirt off and unbuckles his belt, then kicks his jeans off where they join the rest of the discarded clothes on the floor. He settles on his stomach and pulls your body close to his face, his hot breath fanning over your damp, aching pussy. To tease you, he kisses his way toward your center, inching closer and closer to where you need him most yet not giving all the way in. “Please, Joel,” you whine. 

“Ohh, I know,” he rasps. He kisses the other thigh, then uses his thumbs to spread your soft folds apart for easier access and licks one long, fat stripe up your pussy. “Oh my god, yes,” you gasp. Joel chuckles at your excitement. He traces up and down with his tongue, his nose buried in the hair that covers your mound. You rock your hips into his face and he holds you tight, limiting your movement so that he holds all control. He’s feeling generous, and you’re going to take all that he gives you. 

“Fuck, right there,” you whimper when he licks your clit in circles. His tongue dips lower, circling your tight, wet hole before dipping inside to taste your sweet arousal. Joel hums in pleasure, he loves everything about this - the way you writhe and moan, how your dripping pussy feels against his face. He dips his tongue and swirls it inside of you before replacing it with two of his calloused, weathered fingers, rhythmically curling them inside you so that he’s hitting your g-spot. 

You’re moaning, babbling his name along with some other dirty words as Joel licks you and pumps his fingers, soaking him so intensely he thinks he could drown. He’d be happy to. There’s nothing he loves more than eating you out right now, passionately lapping your cunt like you’re the first meal he’s had in days. Your moans are becoming quicker, more frantic as you reach for his free hand and suck and bite his fingertips - always needing something in your mouth. He knows you’re close. Joel focuses on bringing you to the edge and sending you over, unwaveringly fucking you with his fingers and his tongue as your thighs are trembling and twitching, then squeezing the sides of his head as you come hard for him. “Joel,” you cry loudly. 

“Yeah, s’it. Give it to me, kiddo. That’s it,” he praises, “Good girl. Good fuckin’ girl.” 

Joel works you through your orgasm until the feeling subsides, and then pulls away from you. As you steady your breathing, you close your legs gingerly, hips sore from the position Joel held you in. Joel holds your knee, preventing you from moving any further. “Where do you think you’re goin’?”

“You made it even,” you breathe, reaching for his hand and placing yours on top.

“Nuh-uh, sweetheart. We ain’t square yet,” Joel spreads your legs again, then reaches for his cock. It’s rock-hard, the tip is blushed and swollen as he pumps it with his fist. “You gotta come on my tongue a couple more times than that before we’re even. And-” he grunts, adjusting his position before lowering himself over your body. He wraps your legs around his waist and notches his tip inside of you, “M’only a man. I’m gettin’ mine tonight too.” 

With that, he begins to push himself inside you. That slow, deep slide inside your cunt has him groaning in pleasure, Christ, you’re fucking tight. And so warm, soft, and wet. You squeal a bit as you adjust to the feeling of his cock inside of you, his cock splitting you open. “Shhh…” Joel quiets your moans. “Give it a minute, kiddo, you’ll get used to it.” 

You watch Joel as he slowly pulls out of you about halfway, then inches his way back inside you incrementally, little by little until your face relaxes and you let out that first sigh of pleasure. “Oh, there it is,” Joel coos. “Right there, huh?”

You nod, then wrap your arms around Joel's broad shoulders as he sets a steady pace. It’s slow, but not quite gentle at first, before it builds to something faster and harder. He rolls his hips at the perfect angle to have you squirming and writhing in pleasure, the head of his cock kissing that sweet spot inside of you over and over. You bury your face into him, biting softly where his neck and shoulders meet. His skin is so soft, slightly salty under your tongue. 

“Fuck, good girl,” he praises, kissing the side of your head where your hair is slightly damp with sweat. With each of his thrusts, you feel every inch of him. The scruff on his face brushing against you, his weight on your body, his skin on your skin, his pubic bone grinding against you. He fucks you passionately, sometimes quickening his thrusting, sometimes slowing it down, fucking you with longer, slower strokes. You bask in the sensation, entirely consumed in it all, in Joel. “You’re doin’ so good.” 

You rock your hips to match each one of his thrusts, needing more friction against your clit. “M-more, Joel,” you beg. “I wanna come. Please, Joel, make me come again.” 

Still fucking you, Joel spits onto his fingertips and wriggles his hand between your body. He searches for your swollen, sensitive bud and then paints steady circles into it, using the motion of his thrusting to help bring you to the edge once more. “Right there,” you tell him. “Don’t stop, please.” 

“I know, I gotcha,” he says. “Go ‘head and come for me, baby. Come all over my cock.”

You’re right there, right fucking there as he rounds your clit again and again with his fingers. Your reaction is more intense than before; your moans are louder now, pleading, more urgent. Your brows are knit together, mouth wide open when you go quiet - you’re gonna come, and it’s gonna be long and fiery and intense. 

Pure, unadulterated pleasure is all you feel when you finally reach your climax, moans and whimpers falling from your lips like honey until you’re crying Joel’s name, begging him as he fucks you through it. Begging for what, you don’t know. “Joel, Joel, Joel.” 

Your orgasm propels Joel’s own, and he’s growling into your ear as he spills into you, milking himself entirely. His come feels so warm inside you, so satisfying. “Oh, fuck me. Jesus, hon,” he groans. “Ohhh, god.” 

His thrusts slow, slow, then stop. He whimpers a little when he pulls out of you, then sits back on the couch. His head resting against the back of it, he turns to you. His eyes travel down your body, where some of his spend drips from your pussy. He pushes it back inside you, finger buried all the way to the knuckle, then pulls you into his side. 

“You’re gonna kill me,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. 

You look up at him, “Why?” 

Joel smirks. “ Could use a cigarette,” he answers. “Hits the spot right after sex.”

“Fuck off,” you giggle. “You said we’re done.” 

“We are done,” he affirms. “But our deal’s still in place. Which means…” Joel gently pushes you onto your stomach, then pulls you up by your hips. “We’re goin’ for another round.” 

If you enjoyed, please reblog/send an ask with some nice comments! Your words keep me motivated to write.

[fanaticsnail]

"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.”

[aesthetic-bbyg]

SWEETNESS ~ BUGGY

LA!buggy x straw hat!reader

Based off of this post bc it made me giggle PT 2

Nattie speaks: y’all this mf clown has no right to be so fine but LAWRD. I’d do anything just for one lick. This is short nd simple but cute🤭

ZORO DRAGGED HIS FEET across the wooden floors of the Going Merry, ignoring the muffled screeching of the clown head inside the dark sack as he set his eyes on thing. Nightfall was approaching, everyone on the ship wanted some rest, yet nobody was getting any with the constant whining of Buggy. The green haired man pushed open your door, making you jumped slightly as you looked towards him with a raised brow.

“I give up, all yours now.” Zoro voiced practically dripped in annoyance, he tossed the sack across the room, making it land onto the soft cushion of your bed before slamming the door behind him.

You could hear groans coming from the sack, “Damn you, you fucking broccoli-haired ass!” You chuckled softly, putting down the comb you had in your hand and walking towards the scruffy bag. As you released the clown head he sighed in content, breathing in the fresh scent of berries that engulfed the room. “Ah, sweetness, so good to see you!”

“Nice to see you too, Buggy.” You giggled, “You doing alright there?” You asked, smiling a bit as the man got comfortable on your bed.

“Much better now that I have you in front of me.” He winked with a flirtatious smirk on his red painted lips. “I definitely thought he was going to put me with that weird chef guy again so he could chop me into piece and cook me or something.”

“Looks like you got lucky today.” You smirked back, grabbing him and placing him on the small vanity, going back to combing through your hair. Buggy was a simple man, with simple needs, especially since his whole body was gone. The angle his head was facing gave him more fuel into his dirty thoughts. His eyes directly faced your chest, eyes captured on the line of cleavage peeking from the low cut tank top you had on. He was hypnotized by you, for the first time since he was taken by Luffy and placed on the ship to sail away to Arlong island he’d gone completely silent.

You simply hummed, clueless of how the clown shifted slightly to get a closer view. You suddenly let out a huff, dropping the comb and looking over at the clown. “Y’know, I like having you around here, you totally make me feel special and even though the rest of the crew might really, really not like you, know I’m on your side.”

“Mhmm.” Buggy hummed in response, eyes hungrily watching you. “I appreciate that, sweetness.”

You smiled. “You hungry?” You stood up and took him in your arms, cradling him carefully like he was a baby. The blue hairs that peaked from under the striped bandana tickled your skin.

Buggy enjoyed being around you, especially since you were so generous and careful with him, the others simply tossed him into the sack or an empty barrel whenever he even spoke. But you, you fed him, you defended him, you took care of him and did the exact opposite of what everyone else did. “I’m hungry for one thing, that’s for sure, sweetness.” The clown replied, eyes still clued onto your tits as you entered the small kitchen.

“Hey, maybe we can brush through that tangled mess once we get a quick snack.” You replied giddily with a big smile, “Hey, and wanna know another thing—“ You heard a string of groans follow as soon as you stepped into the room with Buggy.

“I gave him to you specifically to get away from him.” Zoro groaned, making Sanji nod in agreement.

“I’ll be out soon, stop your whining.” You replied with a roll of your eyes, reaching for the basket of fruit and picking out two apples. You picked up a knife and cutting board, quickly going to work and chopping up a few apple slices. “So as I was saying, nobody has ever taken me seriously, which why I also like you, you don’t make fun of me which is what many others do.”

Zoro and Sanji glanced at eachother with questioning looks as you proceeded with your mini rant, both of them making eye contact with the clown head that smirked at them, a cheeky look in his eyes.

“But I mean, Luffy chose me to be a part of his crew so obviously I can be more, I’m not dumb, and I feel like more people need to take me seriously.”

“Hey.” The clown smirked as he watched your every move, finally speaking up about his slight obsessing with your chest. “Nice tits.”

“Thank you!” You happily replied with a smile, placing the slices on a clean plate and taking Buggy back to your room as everyone stared in shock. “Goodnight boys!”

“Yeah, goodnight fellas!” Buggy called out, and if only he’d had the rest of his body he’d most definitely be given them a middle finger.

“How is it that a clown can do better at getting that girl then me?” Sanji muttered in annoyance.

Forever will live, love, and laugh Buggy

yummy, I <3 men who are bbyg’s

[floshav]

part 2 to my last rodrick fic which u can read here !

part 3 out now !

summary: Rodrick proves his likeness for y/n through a spontaneous kiss leaving her smitten and dazed. However, thoughts of Heather still lingered in her mind, constantly being reminded of the blonde girl whenever she passed by. "Does Rodrick still like her?" "Does he even like me?" What happens when Heather suddenly takes interest in Rodrick after ignoring him for years just because she can't let y/n get what she wants.

wc: 2k plus

warnings: allusions to smut, heavy make out

2 weeks later...

the kiss, no not just the kiss but the two kisses rodrick and y/n shared that night resulted in their relationship. She had been left smitten and the feeling was one of those that even if you wanted to forget, you couldn't. The heart racing, blush inducing feeling of getting kissed on by rodrick the boy she'd been crushing on for years, with his rough boy lips which still managed to be soft and plush because well, he was Rodrick after all.

It was now a plain old Monday and she was lost daydreaming in her Calculus class, or was it english? She couldn't bother to take notice.

"Alright, take out your calculators and flip to page 56. We'll be grinding through the workbook today class!" Ms. Smith yelled whilst her big buggy glasses fell down the tip of her nose bridge, stopped by her finger which shoved them back in place. Y/n couldn't care less. Her mind was swarmed with what happened 2 weeks ago.

His lips grazed hers one more time, this time softer and one might say more lovingly if she was in a state of delirium. She felt his slender hand creep up the side of her hip brushing it against her shirt so so gently. He broke off the kiss and his face was so close to hers she felt as if she might faint right then and there. The boy who was rough, impatient and borderline rude crumbled in-front of her. She'd never seen Rodrick like this before. Each freckle, each fine line, each perfect imperfection visible to her now. She'd imagined this image thousands of times before, but never had she imagined it to come true. Rodrick hesitated before saying his next words "I- I really like you y/n. And- and i just want to set that clear before you try showing up to my house drunk silly again. You were being so wreck less you know that?" He chuckled dorky-ly ever so slightly which made her heart pound just a little harder. Her heart fluttered at how he cared for her.

"M'sorry I-i just, m'just so jealous." She slurred as her eyes began to tear up with a mix of happiness, jealousy, anger and most of all, sadness. "Why? You know i'm here for you and you only, stupid." Rodrick whispered so softly against her lips but y/n's mind swarmed with confusion. "B-but you always *hiccup* talk about Heather." She sighed as she let herself fall into her hands. "Makes it *hiccup* hard to believe" She said again. "I-" He moves further back and a familiar ache rises to her chest, one of abandonment. "She was just someone I was infatuated in. Nothing more. Fuck. If i really liked her, would i have kissed you back? Let alone kiss you again?" He said making eye contact this time. He looked absolutely illegal. The way his hair was his usual mess, his blown out eyeliner smudged beneath his fox eyes. His puffy lips. Everything about him made her feel unreasonably hot in the cool weather. "S-so no more feelings for her?" "No. no more." he said so seriously it made her scared. "In fact, she's an asshole and i don't want any part of her in my life." He said whilst memories of what Heather did earlier fled his mind. Rodrick plants a kiss at the corner of y/n's lips and this time she knows it was meant lovingly. Still, at the back of her mind, the one aching question lingered, didn't he say he loved her?

"Y/n?" "Ms y/n?" She blinked and the memory was interrupted by an annoying voice. "Do you care to open your workbook? Or do you intend on staring at the cover for the next hour?" Ms Smith's breath tickled the hairs on the back of her neck waking her from her daydreams of what happened that hazy night.

"Yea, sorry ms smith." She smiled tightly before flipping to page 66 or 57 the page number was was a blur to her, but an open book would do.

He planted a soft kiss at the crook of her neck.

suddenly her mind wandered to what happened later that night.

Hand riding up under her shirt. "is this okay?" His voice was earnest and soft against the skin of her neck.

her thighs clenched together unintentionally and she felt ashamed for imaging such lewd things. She'd been daydreaming about that night for the past few weeks. Each week making her crave for more until she felt sick. Rodrick hadn't made a move like that on her ever since, and she was just too shy to even ask so images in her mind would do for now.

He unclasped her bra in one swift motion and it made her question if he'd done this before, with... Heather? No, can't be, she doesn't even care for him. Right?

The kissing started to turn into making out and y/n felt his breathing falter when she brushed her pinky against his crotch by accident.

"Fuck do you even know what you're doing right now-"

"Ms. y/l/n!" Just as quickly as it started, her daydreaming had come to a halt.

"I've been calling your name for the past 5 minutes. Care to share your answer to the whole class? I assume you didn't even hear the question number i gave you. Number 5! Now." Ms. Smith tried to hush her yelling down to be more precarious.

"Sorry Ms." Y/n sighed before making her way to the black board with a dumb empty mind filled with Rodrick.

------------------

The same could be said about Rodrick. His usual sleepiness that was met with classes vanished ever since that night. Instead of sleeping, he was putting his pretty dumb brain to use by thinking. Thinking about y/n. Every night, everyday, every moment. He'd be lying if he said that she was the only girl he'd ever gained feelings for, because Heather Hills did exist. But it was true when he said he didn't like her anymore.

"Mmm- Aaah- R-rodrick p-please not my neck."

"Shhh, just one more kiss y/n, please."

"F-fuck!"

"FUCK FUCK FUCK FUC-"

Before Rodrick's dream could get any steamier he was awoken to the sound of Heather cursing just beside him, clearly to get someone's attention.

"FUCK! how am i going to do this!!!" Heathers voice was painfully exaggerated and Rodrick couldn't help but cringe. Was this the girl he was smitten by before?

"Oh- Hey Roddy!" Heather smirked as she twisted her body to face him.

Rodrick's head was rested on his arm and he couldn't help but look at her with dead eyes, clearly annoyed.

"You.... you play the drums right?"

"Mmm" Rodrick groaned as he scratched his temple, he was surprised at how much he didn't care for THE Heathers presence anymore.

"Was wondering if.... You'd wanna play a gig at my birthday party?"

Rodrick's eyes lit up. A gig? That was a once in a blue moon occasion to rodrick's ears. But reality struck him when he remembered it was Heather who was asking.

"Mmm sorry Heather, don't think i can." Though it ached him to decline the gig, he knew you wouldn't like it so he sucked it up. Rodrick felt a sense of pride when he realised he didn't stumble over his words around her anymore.

"Awwww but why! I'll pay you 50 bucks an hour, and you know my parties last long." She feigned a girly voice as she batted her long eyelashes which icked Rodrick out.

50 bucks an hour..... The offer was tempting but, you were even more tempting.

Before Rodrick could answer, you walked in the class with a goofy smile, ready to see your Rodrick with..... Heather.

Heather shot back daggers through a fake soft smile. The type she'd give to a teacher after almost being caught doing something.

"Oh... Hello there y/n! Sorry, Rodrick was just telling me about how he'd love to play drums at my party. Isn't that right Rodrick?"

"Wh- No?" Rodrick scoffed out, eyes squinting at the mischievous blue eyed blonde.

"Oh c'mon, don't lie to y/n just because you pity her! You're a man! Act like one." Heather said as she got up from her chair slightly agitated at the fact Rodrick didn't play along.

"See you there Roddy." Heather said before smirking and popping out her ass dramatically.

roddy... That nickname made y/n's blood boil and she never wanted to hear it again.

"I swear! I-I did not agree to any of the shit she just yapped about." Rodrick panicked whilst stumbling over his words like a nervous teenager, that familiar feeling rising again but this time towards y/n.

"Hard to believe Rodrick. Or should i say Roddy... God! i shouldnt have been so naive. I'm so stupid! I thought you were over her." Y/n lashed out before storming out the classroom in a hurry, not thinking straight.

"Wait! Fuck. That fucking bitch Heather." Rodrick sighed out as he reached for the class door.

You found yourself slanting against a crusty brick wall beside a half broken vending machine. You don't know why you overreacted so fast without even bothering to hear Rodrick's explanation but maybe it was because you were so stupidly insecure. You quickly fumbled around your pants pockets to find an old packet of ciggs you remembered you left there. There were 2 left so you lit one up and breathed in the pure comfort. It felt nice to not care just for a second with the cigarette around. When it could have gotten more peaceful you heard a set of obnoxious dorky feet approach you.

"Hey." Rodrick said lightly as he squatted down to your eye level, lanky hands hanging by each sides of his knees.

It made you jump a little and your facade of wanting to remain mad slowly revealed itself. You couldn't help but suppress a tight smile from leaking out.

"What" You said as you blew a whiff of smoke away from his face. His heart fluttered at the small gesture.

"I really did not agree to what Heather told you." He said seriously which was a rare look on Rodrick.

"Are you sure? Cuz it seems like you two are getting along just fine" Y/n sighed as she pushed her hair back, Rodrick's heart beat pounding harder by the second.

"Please, believe me I- I really did not agree to anything, I-I really want you to believe me please." Rodrick was pleading which was something she only saw when he was lovesick. At that moment she knew he couldn't harm her emotionally.

"Alright. Fine, I believe you." Y/n said with a tired voice, though deep down she was glad she could read Rodrick like an open book.

"Im so sorry." Rodrick sighs before nuzzling his head in the crook of her neck, still a nervous wreck whenever he handled her.

She releases her cig and reaches in to hug him back tightly and lovingly before breathing in the intoxicating scent of him. Far better than a cig.

Just around the corner was a cheeky little Heather, listening in to every single decibel of the convo. Heather tightly rolled her eyes and scoffed before it turned into a smirk. Something clicked in her head. She knew what she had to do.

She was going to fake it till she made it.

---------------------------

lol i feel like this story deserves a pt3 so if this does well i will continue it! I know this has been a long times worth of progress but i've been procrastinating writing like crazy lately and i've only started getting back into it. Anyway please do request because i'm always bored and free !

[gingernut1314]

buggy is 100% ticklish

you are so very right

Pretty sure I need to start looking into therapy but in the mean time

Just was thinking about Buggy holding you down, y'know, his body parts separating so he can try to appear bigger than he really is. He just wants to play, see if he can get you to scream in fear (or pleasure) because it's fun!

Maybe one hand is pinning your wrists above your head while the other just dances down your body. Maybe one of his arms is laying across your stomach to hold you down to keep you still. He's lower half is seated on your thighs but maybe his legs are between yours to keep them open.

Maybe he just wants to see how long you can hold out because that hand going down your body is suddenly at your side, pinching and grabbing and tickling you.

And you're trying not to shriek or beg for mercy, but he's leaning down and saying breathlessly into your ear, "Maybe now you'll learn your lesson."

You honestly didn't know he was ticklish when you touched his bare toes the other day. The scream that came out of him was glorious.

[cringeandproud]

[switch-writer]

Could I request Lee and Ler Buggy the clown hcs? (I'm so sorry)

Buggy The Clown Tickle Headcanons

A/N: I’ve seen both the live action and anime and we NOSE that BUGGY IS ON TOP 🗣️ So I had a lot of fun writing these HCs, I’ve been busy recently so I liked writing these in my spare time. So, do enjoy and feel free to request more! 💙

• Okay. First off, he isn’t usually the type to start tickling, it’s rare if he does, and if he did, it’d be within his first mate(s) due to the fact it’s silly and he likes to be a bit more feared. Tickling doesn’t help that usually.

• On the off chance he does choose to tickle someone first, he will constantly have a big grin on his face.

• “Oh? Repeat that again. Please. I dare you.”

• He will detach/chop(?) his hands and hover them above whoever it is, wiggling his fingers all dramatically.

• He also likes using his detached hands to sneak one hand behind someone and poke/tickle them from behind to be sneaky.

• When he was growing up with Shanks, he would probably get easily offended (though that hasn’t changed) and then tickle Shanks to get back at him.

• He likes to occasionally detach his hand and poke someone to get their attention then act all innocent as if he didn’t send a little electric sensation through someone for the fun of it.

• Buggy however is someone who usually doesn’t full on tickle someone, he’s too ‘feared’ to do that… BUT. If he does, he likely was provoked and is doing anything for you to take back whatever you said.

• So on this rare chance, he will constantly be changing spots, tickling you all over and sporadically. He also doesn’t have a gentle touch, so his tickles are messy and meant to make you burst out laughing.

• Won’t stop until you take it back so he can fix his wounded ego.

• Buggy when he’s on the receiving end however. He’s honestly going to be a moody/pouty child after receiving tickles.

• Besides the moodiness, he is certainly ticklish and will burst out laughing with simple scratches towards a spot.

• Soft/very gentle tickles throw him for a loop and confuse him. He doesn’t expect it to be gentle so it throws him off, but he finds it slightly more tolerable.

• He’s the type to flail his arms or be smacking his fist on the ground to make it more bearable.

• Snorts a fair amount. He also always has a loud laugh. He naturally is very loud, so you have zero chance for him to be quiet.

• Probably someone who needs to sit or lay down or else he’ll just tumble to the floor and roll around. He gets very weak from tickles.

• Buggy will probably be recovering for a bit after being tickled, but give him 30 seconds and he’ll whip his head around and scold whoever tickled him afterwards.

• He’ll squirm as if you’re murdering him, he will thrash and kick his legs like crazy, and his hair will be all over the place. He’ll look like he was just in a tornado.

• Buggy can’t handle anticipation in the SLIGHTEST. He will start squirming and practically shrieking at you to quit thinking about what you’re about to do and probably try and have a boxing match with you.

• Revenge is very common with Buggy. Its a way for him to gain his pride back.

• His weak/worst spots are probably his soles and his belly. Although, a honorable mention would be his ribs.

• Despite the pouting/hurt pride and all, he actually admires the bravery and will comment on it. Thats his way of saying he’s fine with what happened afterwards and excusing it.

• However, usually after that, he’d quickly shift gears and go running after you to get you back.

• In short, he’ll be angry and pissy. If you’re someone like Shanks? He’ll tolerate it… He needs the trust aspect to find it alright and allow the vulnerability.

• Don’t get cocky however, his hands will always manage to catch up with you.

Hopefully you enjoyed!

[farter-imperator]

Thinking about Rain's sentient tentacle again. (this post is brought to you by @shaykesqueer)

Phantom loves Rain's tentacle.

Rain's just trying to relax after a show and all he hears is "Rain. Raindrop. Hey. Rainy." and he just Sighs. Because he knows that Phantom wants to see it.

"Bug."

"Take your pants off, I wanna see something."

"She doesn't want to play right now, buggy..."

"She deserves some loving, c'monnnn..."

"Ant."

But that's not gonna stop Phantom. Eventually, Rain agrees. Parts his legs, pulls his jogging bottoms to his ankles, and lets Phantom slide between his legs.

Phantom lies on his belly, bracketed by Rain's legs, and just gently tickles his finger over the membrane that holds Rain's tentacle back.

She's always shy at first, but once she knows it's Phantom, she's straight out and wrapping around his wrist affectionately.

Phantom sweet talks her so much. He loves her. Calls her pretty, and beautiful, and sweetheart, and gorgeous. Rain has to tell Phantom not to overexcite her, because they wind each other up.

Phantom loves to kiss her. Holds her so gentle, kisses over her tip, whispers about what a beauty she is. Gently pets down her length with one finger.

Meanwhile rain's just reclined, legs parted, arm behind his head, the fondest smile on his lips. "She loves you, baby..."