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ceesimz · 12 days ago

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matters of the heart

the first time dealing with Alexia after a loss doesn't go how you expect. (angst -> comfort/fluff)

There was something that one of Alexia’s friends had said to you, a passing comment in a conversation that was probably meant as a joke, which you had forgotten about entirely. Until it suddenly became the most relevant information of your life one evening, maybe even the statement that your whole relationship rode on like a lifeline.

“Hey, Ale.” You started softly once your relatively new girlfriend had answered your call. She was hundreds of miles away in another country in Europe, having just lost a game that none of the Barcelona players could have expected. You didn’t get more than a grunt as a greeting. “How are you?”

“What question is that.” The blonde scoffed quietly, speaking to you with a harshness that you had never been on the receiving end of before. “I feel like shit. I’m embarrassed and sick to my stomach with anger, how’s that?”

“O-okay.” You replied with a frown, caught off-guard by her unfamiliar behaviour and entirely unsure where to go from here.

‘Alexia always takes defeats personally, I wouldn’t go near her if I was paid to after she loses.’

“Sorry. I do not mean to be so… rude.” She sighed, though the apology sounded rather forced and not really that genuine.

“It’s okay. You’re allowed to be annoyed, it was a hard game.” You smiled sadly. She was silent on the other side of the line, using up all her defiance to not scoff at your empty words. In the moment of quiet, you could hear the distant sounds of cars passing by. “Where are you?”

“The balcony. Won’t sleep tonight and I don’t want to get into bed yet.” All her replies were blunt and curt, it already felt like you were fighting a losing battle. But you did what you thought you should do, what every good girlfriend would do in the same situation, and carried on.

“I can stay on the phone with you if you’d like tonight. We can talk until you get tired, you don’t have to sit outside in the cold alone all night. It’ll make you feel worse.”

The conversation continued in much the same way, with you saying things and hardly receiving more than a sentence at a time from Alexia. When your patience couldn’t handle it much longer, you moved onto different topics, discussing your day and your friends and your family, thinking it might be helping her.

In this situation, you felt like a fish out of water. Football was an entirely different world than yours, you would never know what it was like to lose such a high profile game like the one Alexia was so distraught over, so you really had no idea what to do. All you could do was try and hope your efforts were appreciated.

They weren’t. You were fighting a losing battle and had been from the second you decided to call her.

“I’m so sorry about the result tonight.” You said after there was yet another awkward silence. Maybe you should have hung up already, put her out of her misery that this phone call was, but the idea that Alexia was sitting alone and going over how much she loathed herself and the world in that moment wasn’t something you were comfortable with.

“Yeah, well, we deserved it. I deserved it. I had no awareness, my decision making was too slow, my passes were terrible. The way we played today, we should have all three European titles taken from us.”

You hadn’t been together all that long, but you had never once heard her speak with such… vitriol before. She spat her words out like they disgusted her to utter them, each sentence laced with heavy disdain, almost entirely directed at herself.

Almost.

“A loss isn’t a failure, Ale. Everything happens for a reason.”

She laughed at your words, a spiteful and venomous sound that was so sharp, it spiked a feeling of anxiety within you. However, it paled in comparison to what she did next.

“Everything happens for a reason, hm? You really believe that?” The blonde tutted and muttered in Catalan under her breath. Just as you went to reply, to back up your point and try to talk her down from the mountain of loathing she found herself on, she cut you off. “That is a stupid thing to say. It’s not true, it’s bullshit. A pathetic, empty bit of encouragement that works as well as a slap to the face. What do you want me to do with that? You, you think that will help me process this loss? To get over it so you can have me in a better mood, where I’m not complaining and being depressing about a football game? The most important thing in my life?”

The most important thing in her life. Football. You already knew that, but it didn’t make it any less difficult to hear her actually admit it.

“I didn’t mean t-” Your attempt to defend yourself from the fire of shame raging inside of her was futile. She didn’t care about anything except the fury coursing through her veins.

“This is so stupid. There is no good that comes from losing like we did today, it was a failure. I’m done with this, I’m going to bed.”

The tone that sounded after she hung up circled through your mind as you sat there, frozen, with your phone still at your ear.

If you were clueless beforehand, it was nothing compared to now. In a slight daze, your head spinning from the conversation that had just occurred, you pressed onto Alexia’s contact again. This time only to send a few messages. All of which went unread, and would for the rest of the night.

You went about your evening absentmindedly afterwards, a strange floating, mindless feeling consuming you. You weren’t entirely sure if you had just witnessed the end of your relationship or not. That thought set you off spiralling, yet you weren’t present in your overthinking. It happened without your knowledge, like you were merely a passenger to the kamikaze journey your anxiety sent you on.

You made dinner, but you didn’t remember doing so. You changed your bedsheets, you don’t remember picking the set you put on. You brushed your teeth and did your skincare, you got into bed unsure if you’d washed it all off or not. You sent more texts to Alexia, though this time with the absence of two blue ticks under your message engraved onto your eyelids. You fell asleep, and you remember the distinct lack of love in your heart as you did so.

—

Every member of the team woke up the next day feeling worse for wear after the gruelling game and hard-to-take loss the day before, but everybody noticed how truly broken Alexia was. Nobody dared to approach her and ask how she was, the headphones glued to her ears more than enough warning for people to keep their distance.

She was, very clearly, disconnected from her life. Stuck in her own mind, rehashing every fuck-up she had made and what lecture to give to her own team when they trained the next day. They feared her and the venom on her tongue, waiting to be unleashed upon the first person that might breathe too loudly in her vicinity.

Not one of them knew her first victim was her own girlfriend.

You did though, of course. But nobody else, not your friends, family, or even Alexia's family. Instead, you had to carry the burden of being your girlfriend's burden around on your own.

By the sounds of it, you were nothing but a distraction. Just another thing on her very hectic plate that she had to worry about. Answering your call the night before was merely a chore for her. And that stung.

From your very first date with her, when you initially learnt about her job and the chaos it entailed, you made it known that you would be there for her when she needed it. However, you also said, which Alexia frowned at and vehemently denied, that if the relationship was ever putting strain on her, you would rather she end it than carry on unhappily.

Since she didn't agree back then, you wished for nothing more than for her to end it before she hated you anymore. All night long, you considered doing it for her... but you were known for making some brash decisions whilst stuck in a spiral of overthinking, so you hung on a little longer. Thank god that you did.

It wasn't easy, not in the slightest. Sometimes, things get harder before they get easier.

Alexia's fury heightened infinitely when she got back to her apartment to find it empty. It lacked you. The pair of you agreed that you would be there to greet her when she got back to Barcelona, win, lose, or draw. What she didn't comprehend, when she realised you weren't there, was that she wasn't angry, she was mentally exhausted. From the match, the hangover of the horrors of the Olympics in the summer and that scarring penalty miss, from the argument the previous night, from everything in her life, personal and professional. Whether she could admit it to herself or not, you not being there when she needed you the most was unknowingly the catalyst to her breaking down.

It came a little delayed though; she was overwhelmed with her feelings, an experience she never coped well with, and she didn't know what to do with them all. So, she did what she did best, and shut herself off from everybody around her.

Or, at least, she tried.

For both of you, the couple days that followed were a blur. Alexia returned to training the next day, and you went to work. You continued with your lives as if the other never even existed. It was radio silence between you. Not one text, one call, nothing.

Alexia, ashamed of her actions and not brave enough to admit the full extent of the turmoil she was going through. You, embarrassed by your efforts and afraid that getting in touch with her would result in much the same way it did a few nights prior. No part of you was ready to hear her definitively and the relationship, even though that wasn't the case at all, so not talking to her at all was, in your honest (and wrong) opinion, the only feasible option.

Listening to her reveal that you weren't part of her future was something you'd always feared. Being with Alexia had been so different to any other relationship you’d been in, and that’s because she was unlike anyone you had ever come across. The moment you met her eye as you walked into the restaurant on that first date, where she looked so excited and enamoured by the sight of you even from afar, you were certain she was the one. And she proved that by being an exemplary partner, if not more, each and every day you had been together so far.

You could be your complete, authentic self in her presence, something you had never felt comfortable doing in past relationships. Being without her for a few days, you were lost. You didn’t know what to do, didn’t know where this left you both, where to go from here. You didn’t know if things could be recovered or not.

But, some miles away in the same city, there was a certain Spaniard that loathed herself for treating you in such a way. The hate she felt, it was more than what she’d feel after missing a penalty or having a poor game or when she got injured. This was incomparable to anything she had ever experienced, because of you. She had pushed you away when she needed you most- perhaps the most idiotic thing she could ever do.

All the emotions running rampant through her nervous system went a lot deeper than one loss. It was an amalgamation of so many things, and instead of handling them like an adult, like the role model everybody thought of her as, she let everything build up until it became too much to control. It was wreckless of her, completely and utterly wreckless. And careless.

For the first day or two of training after the game that caused all this, everyone at the club could tell there was something not quite right with her. But, given the result, they gave her space, knowing she would bounce back with somehow more determination than she’d ever had before. The only thing is, that didn’t happen.

Day three passed, she was still not herself. And on day four, none of them could take it anymore, they just didn’t know where to start. Out of everybody on the team, there was only one person who could talk some sense into her. That person just didn’t expect the sight she’d walk in on after coming back to the locker room once she had finished her lunch.

“Ale?”

The blonde flinched slightly at the unexpected voice where she was sat at her cubby, head deep in her phone. Irene stood at the door, concern evident on her face as Alexia sniffled and hastily brushed away the tears on her face. On her screen, your contact, your chat. Her fingers found themselves hovering over the keyboard, not knowing where on earth to start to reach out to you again, and she dropped the device to the bench below her in defeat when her friend walked in.

“What is up with you, hm? You are not quite right.” Irene stated gently, making her way over and sitting beside Alexia.

“Some things.” Alexia replied, resisting the urge to roll her eyes when Irene scoffed lightly, knowing she couldn’t escape the incoming, persistent pressing.

“Come on. It cannot be the loss the other day, it doesn’t affect you for this long.” The taller woman said, putting a hand on Alexia’s shoulder and squeezing reassuringly.

“I just… everything is so much, all the time. I don’t really know what to do with it all.” Alexia began with a sigh, her hand falling to the dainty gold bracelet on her left wrist you had bought her only a few weeks ago that had been glued to her wrist ever since. “And I have ruined my relationship.”

“What? No, I am sure you haven’t, Ale, you-”

“Trust me, I have.” She laughed in spite of herself, shaking her head in disappointment that was aimed entirely at herself.

“Well, what happened?” Irene questioned with a frown. Alexia sighed, again, and she slumped forward a little so that her elbows were on her knees and her head was in her hands.

After that, she relayed everything that had happened during the past few days to Irene. Her friend sat there with no judgement, listening intently to every detail Alexia told her. The midfielder couldn’t help it, whenever Irene checked in with her, it took very little for it all to come spilling out. Irene was wise, always had been, and had always been a shoulder to cry on for the younger Spaniard. Her advice was something Alexia treasured, as well as her ability at never failing to knock some sense into her. This occasion was just another example of that.

“You just have to talk to her. She is probably upset at how she couldn’t help you more than being angry at your attitude. She will not be too happy about that too, obviously, but you know her well and I know her a little, but enough to know that about her. She is smart, and loves you. All you need to do is let her know you love her too, through anything because I know you do, and apologise. Say how you really feel, the rest will follow.”

It might be obvious advice, but to Alexia, there’s too much anxiety for her to think clearly. She doubted herself too much, fully believed there wasn’t any way for her to come back. So, what did she do after her chat with Irene?

Nothing.

Until late that night, when you were already in bed, eyelids drooping shut as tears still escaped and dampened your pillow.

One thing, the only thing, that Alexia wished she could change about you was the way you thought of yourself. That had been something that tore her heart a little to hear, especially so early on when you tried to get her to promise to break up if things got too tough for her. From the way you spoke about yourself, how you made it sound like you were only a small part of her life, you would force her to choose football over you if it came down to it. She wouldn’t stand for it. She'd sooner be six feet under than break up with you.

You believed you were just an add-on to her life, the latter not being affected by you coming or going. If you left, you knew she'd have a million other things to keep her company, keep her distracted. Or, the next person in the queue would slip into her bed and, subsequently, into Alexia's world as a whole. It'd be as if you'd never existed in the first place. And Alexia hated nothing more on earth than that knot of insecurity you had.

You were so much more than just an add-on, you were the other half of her. In her previous relationships, she didn’t think of her and whoever she was with as one single thing. There was her, and her partner. She loved them, maybe, and she liked spending time together. But when it came to life decisions and future plans, she still always thought of… just herself. She put herself first, decided everything to do with her life, solely for her own good. Then you came along.

The second she realised that she factored you into everything she did, whether that be picking up dinner on the way home or looking for a new apartment, that’s when she knew you were the one. It had happened naturally, without her even noticing, until one night she was on the plane back from the USA in the summer, flicking through photos of a flat that her sister had sent her, when she wondered to herself if you’d like it too.

She knew the side of you that could overthink and ruminate on every little thing and roll it like a snowball on the ground into something much bigger, and in the end the guilt she felt knowing that you were most likely at home, alone, doing exactly that? It was enough to convince her to head over, hours after she should have when she got home from training earlier.

It was midnight when she pulled up outside your apartment complex with a bit of haphazard and slightly illegal parking. Her head wasn’t exactly the clearest, and she probably shouldn’t have driven when her eyes were glossy with tears and her hands shook so much she could barely muster the strength to open her car door, but she did, for you. The janitor inside, should he have cared for his job more, might have been concerned at such a sight if he wasn’t clocking off only five minutes after Alexia walked in. Whatever would happen once she reached her destination after spamming the elevator button, simply wasn’t his responsibility.

You had given her a spare key to your apartment not so long after getting together, as she had to you. So with a quiet knock on your door that went unanswered, she unlocked it and entered. The lights were off, only the low hum of the AC sounding through the otherwise silent apartment, and so she headed towards your bedroom.

Fortunately, when she stepped into your bedroom without so much a creak of the floorboards or the click of the door handle as it shut behind her, she saw the outline of you under the covers, facing away from her, sleeping.

It might not have been the smartest idea she’d ever had, maybe you would kill her for it in the morning, but nevertheless, she gave into her temptations. She slipped her shoes off, leaving them out of the way like you would always beg her to do, and cautiously climbed into bed beside you. In the dark, she couldn’t see the redness to your face or your puffy eyes or the empty pack of tissues on the bedside table. Instead, none the wiser to your feelings and whether you would be angrier than ever at her for such a choice, she shuffled up behind you and wrapped a tentative arm around your torso.

To her surprise, you covered her hand on your stomach with your own, though she wasn’t sure if it was an automatic reaction or not. You had stirred a little, though mostly clouded with sleep that tried tugging you under again.

“Didn’t know when I’d get to see you again.” You murmured, words slightly slurred. Alexia had to squeeze her eyes shut to will away the tears that tried to force their way out, and chose to shuffle closer so that she could kiss the back of your neck in apology.

“I’m sorry. For everything.” She whispered, voice cracking in the middle of the last word.

“I missed you.” You frowned, Alexia could hear it when you spoke.

“I missed you too. But go to sleep, we can talk in the morning. We both need rest.” She said quietly. You nodded, and that was that.

Rather unexpectedly, the pair of you slept rather well. Being back in each other’s company was as relieving mentally as it apparently was physically, allowing you both to get more rest when together. Though, as you woke up and found Alexia already awake beside you, it wasn’t long before the strange feeling of bliss gave way for the anxiety you knew would come sooner than later.

She was on her side, whereas you were on your back, and there was a sleepy but worried expression on her face. You knew the conversation about to be had was necessary, didn’t mean you hated it any less. The situation that faced you both was discomforting, there were certain to be words you didn’t want to hear, and all kinds of outcomes to it.

In anxious anticipation, you sat up, back against the headboard and knees against your chest with your arms resting atop them. Alexia decided to sit up too, though turned to face you with her legs crossed. It was quiet, awkwardly quiet, for some time, before the blonde spoke first, which you were glad for.

“I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. Especially when you were just trying to help.” She began. It wasn’t much, but it was a good start. “I appreciated that you wanted to make me feel better. But I don’t think anyone could have gotten through to me then.”

She fell silent, hoping you’d take your turn to talk then, to give her a chance to catch a glimpse of your true feelings. Communication went both ways, so you complied.

“I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me that though. If I’d have known that ringing you would have made you feel worse, I wouldn’t have done it in the first place.” The insecurities you felt under the surface came through so clearly in your voice. Alexia frowned upon hearing your reply, desperately scrambling for a way to explain the point she wanted to make.

“I think you did make me feel better. And I know, I promise I know, that I did not show that. But… I needed you. I didn’t realise it and I wish I could change that, I am really sorry I didn’t see it, I just… haven’t had someone there for me like you when I have lost. I’m not used to it but now I know how to navigate it. I am sorry you got hurt along the way of me discovering that.” The furrow to her brow deepened, so much so you were sure there’d be lines left there permanently long after this conversation had finished, but you couldn’t focus on that once you saw the first tear slide down her cheek. She had her eyes focused on the cuff of her joggers, her fingers tracing the stitching. “I regret it. Because I know how it must have made you feel. I always want you to… to feel important, a-and I know I failed that this time. I’m sorry.”

At the sight and the sound of her getting so clearly upset by the situation, you felt yourself getting just as worked up too. Though, despite those feelings, one which was slowly becoming more prominent was relief. As the conversation continued, you slowly began to realise that this was just an argument, and you two would make it out of it. The doubts were being broken down, one by one, by the emotionally intelligent woman in front of you… even if it took a little while for that intelligence to come to light.

You reached out for her hand that was fidgeting with her trousers, and it caused her to look up. Just as she did, another tear fell from her eye, and you shuffled closer and copied her position so that you could wipe away that single tear before it hit the sheets below.

“These days without you have been… awful, but I think it helped us to work through what we felt. Maybe it helped us to… recognise what is most important to us.” You stated, which Alexia nodded affirmatively to. “How you spoke to me and treated me, it really did hurt me. I forgive you, though.”

Her eyes widened a little, definitely not expecting to hear those words so soon.

“You do?” She mumbled hopefully, sounding like a small child in the way she asked.

“I do. You were honest and you opened up. You didn’t say any excuses, I can see you didn’t mean any of it. It’s not all magically gone, but I’m not upset or angry with you.” The blonde closed her eyes and you weren’t exactly sure if the breath that came from her was a relieved sigh or a choked sob, but it didn’t matter because you knew then, by her reaction, that you would move past this bump in the road for definite.

“I didn’t mean a word I said. I really needed you and I hate that I didn’t realise that until too late. I swear, it won’t happen again, and if I could go b-”

“I know, I know.” You shushed her gently, leaning forward and wrapping your arms around her shoulders to bring her in for a much needed embrace. “It’s not too late, Ale. It’s not too late.”

“D-dios, I r-really love you.” You knew then that she was crying, burying her face into your neck and letting out all the emotions she’d kept stored up inside of her since that stupid game that caused all this.

For some time, you weren’t sure how long, you held her as she released everything pent up, one hand at some point having slipped down to her back and rubbing up and down comfortingly. You got just as much out of the hug as she did, except you’d already exerted almost all the tears you had, so you stayed there with her arms loosely around your back with your eyes closed and took time to relish in the feeling of her again.

Eventually, she slowed down to quiet sniffles, and she leaned back though kept her hands on your waist so that she could look at you.

“You are the most important thing to me, more than football, more than a win or a loss or a draw, more than anything. I will make sure you know that. I will.” She said firmly, looking into your eyes with a determination you knew you’d be wrong to doubt. There was, however, one more thing you needed to get off your chest.

“Ale, football isn’t my world. I don’t know what you need yet after a disappointing match, I need you to help me figure that out so I can be exactly what you need.” In an instant, she was nodding, her thumbs stroking up and down against the material of your shirt against your sides.

“Of course. Of course. I will help, I will try.” The blonde responded, and finally, this terrible blip was done with. You could look ahead at the future now, but not without soaking up the missed presence of the other before reluctantly facing the world again.

“Thank you.” You whispered, leaning your forehead against hers. Her hands raised to your cheeks then, and she tilted her chin up so that she could kiss your temple, then the space between your eyebrows, then your nose, and lastly, leaving a soft and unhurried kiss to your lips. It was a gesture that sealed this slightly unwanted but somewhat needed milestone off.

Obstacles occur in relationships, they’re quite common. How you come back from them, as a couple, is the defining factor in being able to move forward, or falling apart. In this instance, the pair of you stumbled at first but in the end, you flourished in working it out together, with respect, with decency, with love. The silver lining of it was that you both gained a surefire belief that you could make it through anything, as long as you had each other’s back.

The most important part of any relationship is trying your best to learn about the person you love. It won’t always be perfect, but as long as you’re trying, that’s all that matters.

—

look i mostly hate this and i've been writing it on and off since october (that game) and i am sooooo bad at writing this stuff so this is like a filler fic and a weight off my shoulders but be excited for more soon!! thanks for putting up with my bs☺️🧡

#alexia putellas x reader #woso x reader #alexia putellas #woso #woso community #woso imagine #woso fic

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marooningmirrorball · 1 month ago

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Splattered Coffee and Spare Blouses

A/n: hello lovelies! this is my first ever fanfic so please be kind to me when you read this 🫣 any sort of feedback will be appreciated🤞also there is no physical description of reader, that picture was just the first cute white blouse that i saw on pinterest. i hope you like it!

content: coworker!rafe x coworker!reader

content warnings: complete ooc rafe, like not even a little bit canon. jealous rafe. desperate reader and rafe. idiots in love fr. coworkers/office au (?)

word count: 1.2k words

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊ ₊˚༺☆༻

Rafe is too busy drinking in the sweet melody of your voice to catch the actual content of your conversation with Matt. Or is it Mark? Mason? It doesn’t matter what his name is, the only relevant thing about the guy is that he delivers the paper to the office, and Rafe knows they’re getting a paper restock when he hears the tee-heeing of your giggle aimed at something supposedly funny that Miles joked about as he stacks the reams of paper on the tall shelves behind your desk.

You don’t actually ‘tee-hee’, it’s more of a soft chortle. Rafe likes to think he knows the difference, he tries to bypass these dreary office hours by studying each laughter.

First he takes in the sound and how much it made his heart clench, then he looks at your expression; happy, shy, nervous, anxious (he’s even found the difference between those two!), angry. Lastly he takes in the context of the laugh.

It’s definitely a titter when your boss is reprimanding your newest co-worker with the frosted tips, it’s a hodgepodge of a shy-nervous giggle when your boss is reprimanding you, and it’s absolutely a guffaw when Rafe delivers a joke he’d been meticulously planning before he presents it to you.

It usually doesn’t matter what type of laugh it is, the soundwaves from it wrap his heart up and squeeze, squeeze, squeeze, until Rafe forces himself to leave the room, because it can’t be normal to feel this way about a girl you've only been working with for the last three months.

But this isn’t all those other times, it's that unusual time of the month. What could a man who delivers paper to a pool coverings company possibly say to make you let out that joyous sound? What does a pool company even need paper for? Rafe, running his pointer finger along the rim of his coffee mug, comes up blank when he starts to really think about the former rhetorical question, he’s not too sure he ever wants to interact with Mike that will allow him to find out.

Too late. The kerfuffle Rafe accidently caused due to clumsy hands and an even clumsier brain leaves his (luckily) empty mug toppled, but Rafe’s not so blessed when his fallen over mug lands on his pen, triggering it to leap from his desk and splatter into your (unluckily) full mug.

You spin around in your chair at the commotion of Rafe’s, “Shit!”.

Rafe thinks being shot in the big toe would be less painful than this. It’s a Grade A Disaster. All he can see is the deep brown liquid dispersed in sporadic splats all over your previously white blouse.

“Holy shit, are you alright?”, Marcus is pulling out his handkerchief, of course Paper guy carries a handkerchief, in record time, dabbing away at the marks that have the clear intention to find a permanent home on your work top.

Rafe isn’t given a chance to play hero, before Milo is badgering, “Man, why are you doing trick shots right now? Aren’t you a sales guy?”, Rafe; however, is too mortified to think about a snarky comeback as he instead spews out a stumbled apology.

“Y/N, I-I am so so sorry– tha-that really wasn’t on purpose! I-I can–I will replace your shirt after work, I’m so sorry!”, it all comes out jumbled and untidy. A red-faced Rafe runs a hand down his face in exasperation before he’s suddenly up and grabbing at the fallen dishware, “Let me just-let me go get you some paper tow-”

You put an end to his unnecessary apologies with a gentle touch to his right hand that possesses the culprit. Rafe thinks his heart actually stopped.

The grin you bless him with manages to calm him down, “Rafe, you're okay! Don’t stress about it–really. It’s an old blouse anyway.”

And…what?

Rafe just managed to completely demolish your clothes, yet it’s you who is showing him kindness in this weak moment, “Look, if you’re really bummed out about it and want to reimburse me, I do need to go to the mall after this so…”, you drag out and let him fill in the blanks.

So did the mug actually fall onto Rafe’s head? Did he fall into a state of unconsciousness and wake up in a dream land? This can’t be real.

The scoff and retreat of Marcello’s boots snap him out of his thoughts, this is his life. This is his life and he has been staring at you in disbelief for too many silent seconds because you quickly begin to slip the offer out of his hands, “Uhh–well you don’t really have to join me to shop, I just thought since-”, now you're interrupted by Rafe’s reassurances,

“No! Wait–I mean yes! Erm I don’t actually know what I’m meaning to say”, you think the blush sporting his face has got to be the cutest thing you’ve possibly ever seen as he carries on, “I would love to come with you, please!” Jesus, he thinks, try sounding more desperate, he quickly corrects himself.

“Yeah, yeah, that would be cool if I join along. I-If you don’t mind obviously…” he trails off, unsure and not wanting to impose, despite you literally just inviting him.

The shyness is evident in your voice when you softly say, “No, it would absolutely be fun if you came with”, God, you think, why did I add absolutely in there, he’s gonna think I’m desperate.

“Okay cool.”

“Cool.”

Henry, your coworker with the frosted tips, stands at the corner of Rafe’s desk with his arms crossed, “Can I get some paper or do I need to wait another five minutes until your flirting is done?”

The both of you cower slightly in embarrassment at his teasing, but don’t let it dim the bright smiles adorning your faces. Rafe is sure that there’s nothing in this moment that could, he just scored a hang out with the female coworker that he’s been crushing on for weeks now! Not even the sight of smug Martin could kick him off this high right now.

Your too-old desk chair groans as you stand from it, and suddenly Rafe’s worried that Henry’s comment may have bothered you, “Where are you going?”, his rushed tone causes a giggle to escape you,

“My top is still soaked Rafe”, you gesture to the stained garment with a laugh, “I’m just gonna fetch the spare in my car. What? Do you want to walk with me there too?” Rafe misses the joking lilt of your voice because he’s up and walking towards the reception before you can stop him.

When the two of you return from your car, you with a clean (albeit slightly wrinkled from sitting in your ‘just in case’ bag) blouse on and Rafe with a bashful expression, Henry wiggles his eyebrows at the pair of you, implying something out of nothing. You both ignore it and get back to your work, not without the two of you sneaking glances at each other when you know the other isn’t looking.

Long forgotten are Max’s bad jokes and flirting, Henry’s annoying teasing, and this afternoon’s coffee disaster as you and Rafe walk side by side in the mall, he doesn’t think life can get better than this.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊ ₊˚༺☆༻

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron smut #outerbanks #outerbanks fanfiction #obx #rafe outerbanks #rafe cameron fanfic

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yutaholic · 1 year ago

Text

smells like teen spirit (M)

PAIRING: Jeno (NCT) + reader (female)

SUMMARY: Jeno keeps getting on your last nerve, but you still end up in his arms with your tongue down his throat.

WARNINGS: strong language; some drug use; explicit sexual content

NOTES: 8.6k words; this is part two of a rose and her thorns, but can be read as a standalone one-shot

Chicago, 1991

A tale as old as time. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll.

That was our life that summer. Some of us in different doses than the others.

You sat on the bed with your legs bent, resting the notebook against your thighs as you scribbled out another page of the band’s escapades.

Though there was a connection with Mark, we agreed to keep things simple for the rest of the summer. Nothing could be allowed to interfere with the band. God forbid we earned a reputation like Fleetwood Mac’s.

Unfortunately, this agreement caused some awkwardness and I handled that the way I always did - with distance. If Mark couldn’t help but complicate things, then I would do him a favor and give both of us the space we needed.

It felt like shit, but I was used to being the villain.

Turning the page, you kept writing in the eerie quiet of the van. Haechan was bouncing his leg up-and-down at a mile a minute, thoroughly annoyed by Jeno’s delay. Mark was dozing in his seat, trying not to fantasize about you and the fucking heaven between your thighs, but he couldn’t help but watch you jotting down your feelings, your grievances, your hopes and your dreams.

He prayed that he was part of the latter.

The silence broke when the van door opened loudly, followed by a disheveled Jeno stumbling inside. “Goddamn, I am getting so much pussy on this trip,” he huffed, running a hand through his overgrown and severely damaged blond hair.

“Jeno, I swear to god,” you barked, scratching out the compliment you had given him at the top of the page. “If you give me an STD this summer, I will set your drums on fire.”

“You would destroy my child?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

Jeno grumbled something under his breath about how you always rained on his parade of pussy and shut the doors. “Let’s get on the road,” he said irritably, shooing Haechan out of the driver’s seat and jerking the van in gear.

“We’ve been waiting for you, dumbass,” Haechan sniped. He’d been getting so annoyed and impatient he threatened to leave the bastard drummer behind and never look back. That bitch can walk, he’d declared moments before.

Mark stayed quiet in the passenger seat, sluggish with sleep. He looked to you again, watching you write in your journal and wondering what you were saying about him.

About all of them.

Jeno drove fast, but not a soul complained. The gig in Chicago was the most highly-anticipated of the trip.

The van hurtled down the highway, not stopping for several hours until you begged for a bathroom. After a quick gas station run, you put some fresh snacks into the cabinet and wrangled your hair into a bun on your head.

Jeno came in with a bag in hand and said, “I bought more condoms.”

“Good for you,” you deadpanned, wrinkling your nose.

“Although I heard Mark didn’t have to wear one,” Jeno added, tsking his tongue. “One of the few perks of being innocent and pure, I guess.”

Your voice was razor sharp. “Careful, Jeno.”

Both pleased and annoyed by your tone, Jeno asked roughly, “Did you at least remember to get your birth control?”

You wanted to shoot daggers into his face with your eyes, but refusing to afford him any looks was better. “Yeah. I got my Depo shot two days before we left.”

“How long does it last?”

“Three months.”

Jeno smiled wryly. “Well, isn’t that convenient.”

“That’s the whole point,” you mumbled. He was trying to get a reaction out of you, prodding at your buttons, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

There was a pause. “I’m ready when you are,” Jeno flirted, wiggling his brows at you.

“Who said I even wanna screw you?”

“You did. Many, many times.”

True, but no longer relevant. All things considered. You returned to your notebook and said, “That was before you became a penis petri dish of death and disease.”

“Ouch.”

My relationship with Jeno could best be described as rivalry. He never gave an inch and neither did I. It was my job to keep him humble.

And damn, what a full-time thankless job that was.

Jeno had been going out of his way to rile you up after your night with Mark. He couldn’t stand seeing you sulky. Mark’s pouting was beyond remedy, but yours could be managed with well-placed jabs.

He had you down to a science. Lighting a fire under your ass was all Jeno knew how to do. The more he prodded at you, the more flames escaped. And when you were angry, you couldn’t be sad.

Because there was nothing Jeno hated more than seeing you cry.

“Can you try to stay on beat this time?” Jeno chided, spinning a drumstick nimbly between his fingers.

Having been testing the microphone, you whipped around and snapped, “Fuck you, Jeno.”

An argument swiftly ensued, petty and heated. No surprises there. Mark and Haechan stood with their guitars and watched the back and forth with no end in sight, even as people poured into the club.

“Those two are going to kill each other,” Mark said under his breath.

Haechan scoffed. “Or make a ton of babies.”

Mark almost choked on the lump that shot into his throat.

You stomped over to Haechan, pointed at Jeno and said, “I can’t deal with this douche canoe anymore!”

To which Jeno shot back, “Just shut up and sing, ice crotch!”

Your eyes went wide with rage and you spun in Jeno’s direction, ready and willing to claw out his eyes. Haechan grabbed you by the arm and steered you back over to the microphone, officially sapped of all patience.

“In ten seconds, me and Mark are going to start playing,” he said hurriedly. “And both of you are going to look like losers if you’re not ready.”

You huffed a swear or two under your breath and gripped the microphone as Mark and Haechan got into position. Then you heard the tapping of drumsticks behind you followed by the roar of Mark’s electric guitar.

By the time the show was over, you were utterly exhausted. Between Haechan and Mark, your arms draped across their shoulders, the three of you sang tiredly along to one of your songs as the boys essentially dragged you down the hall toward the back door for some well-earned sleep.

Turning the corner, you saw Jeno with two beautiful blondes. You bristled with annoyance. They were giggling at every little thing he said like they were getting dick after, which you quickly realized was the case.

Not on my watch.

“Let it go,” Haechan said, but he knew it would make no difference.

Jeno did not deserve pussy after how badly he stressed you out. You wriggled out of Haechan and Mark’s arms and made a beeline for the drummer.

“Oh my god,” you said in a loud, obnoxious voice, greeting the girls as you cuddled up to Jeno and patted his chest. “You guys look so cute! But unfortunately, Jeno is only halfway through his chlamydia treatment.”

Wide-eyed, the girls looked at you in horror before sending vengeful expressions at Jeno, who set his jaw and bristled with anger.

You held your hand beside your mouth, pretending to whisper a secret, “Very contagious through bodily fluids.”

The pair of blondes scurried off. One of them gave Jeno the finger.

“I hate and despise you,” Jeno hissed, trudging down the corridor.

You were hot on his heels, ready to resume the argument from earlier. A moniker like Ice Crotch was not going to be forgotten. “Haven’t you had enough threesomes?”

“There’s no such thing as too many threesomes,” Jeno replied, heated. “And I’ve only had four.”

Haechan asked curiously, “You keep track?”

Jeno snorted. “Don’t you?”

“One is easy to remember. I wasn’t into it.”

Mark fell in line beside them and said, more so to himself, “I have questions.”

“I don’t,” you spoke up, backhanding Jeno’s burly arm to get his attention. “Jeno, you’ve got pussy brain and you fucked up the tempo.”

Jeno went quiet, which was the last thing you expected.

Everyone was tired and raw. We were a well-oiled machine, steaming ahead like a freight train, but with time, gears start to grind. When gears grind, they tear through flesh and bone.

I know my boys. It sounds cliche, and I agree, but I know them. We’ve been friends for so long and crossed hundreds of lines of intimacy reserved for soulmates. They can’t hide anything from me.

Especially the things they intentionally try to hide from me.

You knew you had struck a nerve, but you weren’t sure which one. You dug your heels in regardless, but you were miffed when Jeno said nothing and made for the door.

“Did he just storm off?” Mark questioned, equally bemused.

“He never does that,” Haechan said softly, turning to you.

You didn’t hesitate to stomp after him, and Mark and Haechan didn’t follow this time. When fire fought with fire, it was best to keep a distance to avoid getting burned.

The cold of Chicago’s night was bitter on your cheeks when you stepped outside and you pulled your jacket tightly round you. Jeno hadn’t jumped into the van yet. He was lingering in the lot, scraping his shoes across the asphalt as he puffed on a cigarette.

Closing the distance, you called, “The hell is going on with you?”

“Nothing,” he replied, avoiding your eyes and blowing out smoke.

“You’re out of sync and you’re acting weird.”

Jeno narrowed his eyes at you. “We were all out of sync tonight. Why am I the only one getting called out on it?”

As usual, no matter how angry he made you, your first instinct when things were too tense was to smooth his feathers. His surface was rough, but at his core, Jeno was tender. You brushed your hand down his arm and said sweetly, “Because you’re the rock…”

"We’re all built on," was going to be the end of that sentence. Unfortunately, I never got to say it.

Jeno cut you off. “I don’t want to be your rock,” he lashed out, hissing your name. “Don’t you feel pathetic leaning on me all the time?”

You recoiled like you’d been slapped and that was when you noticed his eyes. They didn’t belong to the Jeno you knew, but to the monster that stole his mind and would eventually give him back by morning.

Wrapping your arms around yourself in comfort, suddenly much colder than before, your breath pillared into the night like the smoke from his mouth when you whispered, “I didn’t. Until you said that.”

Jeno blinked, realizing too late that he’d hurt you.

That was the thing about me and Jeno. We both thought the other to be fearless and unbreakable, but also knew who we were at each other’s cores. I was his mirror image and he was mine. The broken kids; the kids that just wanted to be loved. The pair everyone knew to be demons, but never stopped to think how we became them.

The fallen angels.

Anger faded from his face in an instant. “I didn’t mean it,” Jeno started, flicking away the cigarette and reaching for you.

You stepped back, not wanting to be touched. “You’re at your most honest when you’re high, baby,” you said sternly, fixing him with a look that rooted Jeno in place. “Don’t lie to me now.”

Jeno swallowed the lump in his throat. How could you always see right through him?

You wiped the tear that spilled down your cheek and escaped into the van, your safe place, your little haven. Jeno ran a hand down his face and cursed, “Fuck,” for hitting you where it hurt.

The rest of the night was tense and awkward, only slacking when sleep took hold. Everyone was painfully exhausted. Chicago had exceeded expectations and pushed all limits. The show was insane. The energy was incredible. I would remember that performance for the rest of my life.

Me and the boys may have been a little out of sync, but each of us gave it our all. We left nothing on the floor and held nothing back.

Haechan curled around you in the bed, keeping you warm. You claimed the bed together more often than not. Mark slept like a vampire, on his back on the floor with his arms at his sides. It was the weirdest thing you’d ever seen, but it worked for him somehow. He slept like a baby, the whistle of his snores filling the van.

Jeno sat in the driver’s seat, looking up at the stars, exhaling the smoke from a joint. He was wide awake, couldn’t sleep. An unfortunate side-effect of the shit he took to get high. The marijuana wasn’t simmering him down as hoped. He’d probably stay up all night and sleep the day away.

Glancing over his shoulder, seeing your pretty face made him smile. You looked even cuter when you slept, but it was frustrating as hell.

No one else noticed he was high but you. Did you really know him that well?

Of course she does, Jeno thought. You were his better half. That’s how it worked. He could never escape you. There was a point of no return when it came to intimacy. Not so long ago, you and Jeno soared past that point. Two reckless teenagers, young and wild, that found all their highs and lows with each other.

Jeno propped his legs up on the dash and closed his eyes, watching the memories like a movie in his head. Mark shredded the electric as if his life was on the line; probably to vent his sexual frustration. Haechan was a whirlwind of energy despite playing that boring ass bass. And you, beautiful you… Mark wasn’t kidding when he said you were a god on stage.

Chicago delivered on the show, but not the after-party. Instead of drinking and fucking the night away, Jeno was in the stuffy van watching the stars go by when he wasn’t stealing glances of you. He wanted to be in your arms, needed you to kiss him and tell him everything would be okay.

You were the fix he craved most of all.

In the time it took him to blink, dawn broke. The sun shone across Jeno’s face. He lifted a hand, shielding his eyes. He grumbled a little and turned in the seat to get comfortable, cursing at the awkward angle his back was in.

Your hand touched his shoulder gently and Jeno lurched in surprise, peering up at you. He’d never looked so weary and drained, but you could see the animal was gone from his eyes. “You’ve been up all night?” Your voice rang with compassion, and Jeno felt utterly undeserving.

He nodded, his eyes fluttering closed, unable to keep them open any longer.

You tugged at him, getting Jeno to his feet and ushering him to the bed, where he basically collapsed onto the mattress. Mark and Haechan were up, crawling around in search of coffee like a pair of zombies. Meanwhile, you let Jeno situate and draped the blanket over him, tucking him in, and brushed some of his hair back from his face.

Jeno took your hand and laced his fingers through yours. “Tell me you love me,” he said in barely a whisper.

“I love you,” you replied without hesitation, bringing his hand to your lips and kissing his knuckles. You stayed propped over him, wanting to be close so you could be sure he finally drifted off. You left a chaste kiss on his brow and coaxed, “Go to sleep, baby.”

Mark turned away. It wasn’t jealousy he felt, just longing. Seeing you so gentle with someone you were viciously fighting with the night before made him want you more. No matter what was said and done, there was too much love in this cramped little van.

When Jeno’s breathing leveled out and his hand went slack in yours, you finally relaxed. You’d be damned if he went days without sleep. There wasn’t much you could do, but the boys had their limits and you did your best to make sure they weren’t crossed.

Without another word, you clambered into the driver’s seat and turned the key, driving out of the club parking lot and onto the main road. You found a shopping center where Mark and Haechan could run errands while Jeno was out, and you pulled in.

Jeno slept well into the afternoon, stirring when the smell of hot food filled the van. Haechan used some of the gig money to splurge on delicious Chinese takeout.

You pulled out a foldable table from behind the cabinet and stood it up on the floor. The four of you sat around it and ate in silence, stuffing your faces until your bellies were full. You and Haechan gabbed a little, but not much. Mark and Jeno didn’t mutter a single word, both of them stuck in their feelings.

A far cry from how they would be that night.

One last show in Chicago. You were back on the same stage as before. It was the first time the band would perform an additional night at a club.

Jeno and Mark were squabbling, which was a rare enough sight to see. The two generally didn’t like to fuck with each other. It always resulted in fists flying and both were surprisingly really good at scrapping.

You looked to Haechan and rolled your eyes. Your best friend was smiling, on the verge of a laugh.

“We’re doing the third set,” Jeno said firmly.

“She can’t,” Mark replied, anger rising. “Her voice is fried from last night. The third set could knock it out for weeks and we’ll have no singer.”

Jeno shrugged. “She can take it.”

You were thoroughly annoyed. “She’s standing right here,” you spoke up, folding your arms. The audacity they had. It made you bristle, because you knew it had nothing to do with your voice and had everything to do with your body.

“What do you want to do?” Mark asked, softening his voice for you.

Jeno cut in, “Don’t ask her. You have to push her.”

You shot him a nasty scowl. “Stop pushing me.”

“Or what?” He smirked.

You shivered with irritation crossing dangerously toward rage.

“I don’t think you can do the third set,” Jeno said, challenging you, his smirk deepening. “Prove me wrong.”

“I’m not falling for that reverse psychology bullshit.”

“Coward.”

A smug look washed over your face as you hissed, “Don’t you feel pathetic leaning on me?”

The smile fell off Jeno’s lips. “I said I was sorry.”

“Don’t bother. I don’t care,” you snapped, but you definitely cared. The wound was still fresh and stung.

Haechan tilted his head when you looked at him. He was always your anchor in the rough seas of Mark and the violent winds of Jeno. “I’m with you, whatever you choose,” he said.

If I ever walked off that stage, my boys would follow. No questions asked. They would follow me into hell and back. Though the four of us would probably just live there indefinitely.

You straightened your shoulders and your tone left no room for argument. “We’re doing the third set.”

Jeno beamed victoriously. Haechan nodded. Mark gave a look mixed between concern and awestruck.

You sang until you were spent; brutally, wholly, and everything in between. Your legs felt like jelly when you walked off stage and your chest ached, lungs taut. The adrenaline, like a performance-enhancing drug, had run its course and you were officially on empty.

It wasn’t unlike you to push yourself to the absolute limit. You loved the stage. You worshiped the power that surged from your voice when you sang into the mic. Pipes for days, Haechan always said.

The dressing room was a sight for sore eyes. You dropped heavily onto one of the sofas and let your head fall back, closing your eyes. Your throat felt like you’d swallowed razors.

“Try not to talk,” Haechan said, holding up his hand when you shot him an irritated look. “I’m not telling you to be quiet. I’m suggesting you let your voice rest.”

You nodded and sunk back into the sofa again.

Mark was vibrating, the energy of the show still pulsing through him. Brimming with energy (the excess turning into courage), he walked over to you and bent down, pressing a lingering kiss to your brow.

You smiled, knowing it was Mark without opening your eyes.

Jeno finally deigned to grace the rest of you with his presence, bursting into the dressing room and exclaiming, “Holy shit, you killed it!”

“And this is where you take all the credit,” you rasped, wincing at the sound of your own voice.

“I’ll wait till you go to bed and then I’ll take all the credit.”

You lifted your head and narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t you have some ass to chase?”

Jeno licked his lips. “Nah. I only got eyes for you right now.”

“Pluck them out for all I care.”

“You wanna fuck me so bad you look stupid.”

You waved him away, settling down and closing your eyes again, and wheezed, “Have fun with your hand.”

Haechan sat beside you, picking up your legs and draping them over his lap. “I’ve never seen you so mad at him.”

“He just doesn’t stop,” you huffed. “You know when to leave me alone. Mark never pushes my buttons. Jeno just keeps fucking digging.”

Haechan chuckled. “That’s all he knows how to do.”

“Whatever.” You shrugged, feigning indifference.

Mark suddenly asked, “Do you love him?”

You sighed. “I love all three of you. He’s definitely my least favorite though.”

Mark gleamed proudly at Jeno, who scowled back.

“So, if we were drowning, who would you save first?” Haechan asked mischievously.

“Mark. Obviously.”

Mark’s grin widened, while Haechan gasped and put a hand over his heart like it was the ultimate betrayal.

“You can swim,” you said, patting Haechan’s arm over your legs. You opened your eyes and gave Jeno a vicious sneer. “Jeno’s the only one drowning.”

Jeno’s lips squared into a frown.

“What’s that mean?” Mark asked curiously, but Haechan stayed silent. He knew.

“Leave it,” Jeno warned, darker than ever.

The three of you did. Unlike Jeno, you knew when to quit.

Some people did drugs. Others did rock music. A few did both.

The boys dispersed momentarily. You were relieved when the dressing room was empty, leaving you to your thoughts and the searing pain in your vocal chords. Rubbing at your eyes, smearing your makeup, you didn’t hear someone come back in as you muttered to yourself, “God, my throat fucking hurts.”

“It’s probably raw as shit,” Jeno said, making you jolt. And roll your eyes. He cleared his throat and switched his tone to add, “Speaking of raw…”

“No.”

“You let Mark in raw,” he whined loudly.

You cut him a glare. “I wouldn’t let you raw me if you were the last man on earth.”

Jeno pouted. “Ow.”

With a scoff, you decided to turn the tables on him. “Why are you so hard for me the past few days? I can’t even brush my teeth without you humping the air around me.”

There was no shame to be found in Jeno. “I haven’t had you in weeks,” he groaned.

Your lips parted in surprise. “You’ve had every other girl in the country.”

“It’s not the same.”

You stood and crept close to him, close enough to ghost your lips over his mouth. Jeno went boneless, every inch of him fixated to you and what you would do next. He wanted you so bad he couldn’t see straight. So, you decided to yank the metaphorical rug out from under him, sniping, “You’re pathetic.”

“Are you really going to hold that against me forever?” Jeno asked, tensing.

No. It was just easier to be mad at him. That was the only way I could have some defense against the power he had over me.

“I’ll make you a deal,” you said, sliding your hands over his shoulders and winding your fingers into his hair. “Answer one question for me and I’ll forgive you.”

Jeno was one more breath away from kissing you. He knew it was a trap. You were luring him in and he was happy to swallow the bait. “Fine,” he replied in a husky voice, eyes on your lips. “Ask your damn question.”

“What are you taking?”

“What do you mean?”

You hardened your gaze on him and tugged on his hair. “Don’t play that with me. I know better.”

Jeno studied you a moment. You would keep yanking this thread until it unraveled. He pushed, you pulled. The two of you could play tug-of-war with each other’s heartstrings forever. Jeno decided it was better to rip the bandage off and get it over with it.

He reached to the back pocket of his jeans, pulled out a bag, and handed it out to you.

You took a split-second look at the bag and your jaw dropped, your arms falling as you snatched it quickly. “Cocaine? Are you fucking kidding me, Jeno?”

Jeno stole the bag back in the time it took you to blink, returning it to the safety of his pocket. “We’re supposed to do drugs,” he defended, rather unconvincingly. “We’re rockstars.”

“We’re teenagers that just graduated high school with barely enough cash for fuel and chips!”

“How I spend my cut of the money is my business,” Jeno shot back.

“This isn’t about the money.” You folded your arms, scolding him like a mother would a child; oscillating between angry and worried. “You know how dangerous that shit is.”

Jeno shifted his approach too, ever your mirror. “It’s the only way I can perform, babe. If I don’t have it, I can’t focus and I get too nervous.”

You softened even more, like Jeno knew you would. “We can get you something else,” you said gently. “Something better. Safer.”

He scoffed. “With our gas and chips money?”

You sighed, accepting a temporary defeat, but you pressed, “You’re doing it to get high. Not to concentrate.”

Jeno went slack, equally defeated, and reached for your waist. “I’m just trying to have a good time. We know this won’t last. We’re going nowhere.”

You lowered your head. “I know.”

The summer was half over and we hadn’t been scouted. Hope was replaced with disappointment and eventually, disappointment would flip to resentment. We never put it into words, but it was like a cloud following us, day and night.

Jeno took your face in his hands and tipped your chin up until you met his eyes. “Let me have this summer,” he whispered sadly. “Mark got you. I got this.”

Something inside you broke a little.

Yes, when the summer was over, you were Mark’s.

But the summer wasn’t over.

Jeno smiled in surprise when he felt the warmth of your lips on his, but he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you and deepen the kiss. Feeling the heat of your body against his was what he’d been craving, wanting you to burn him alive.

My first instinct always was to comfort him. I would chip away at myself and give him every piece if it meant he could use them to stitch his wounds.

Believe it or not, Jeno was my first love, but a first love at fifteen means nothing in the grand scheme of things. He was my first everything, but we just didn’t work. No matter how hard we tried. There was a mad and intense connection between us, inseverable, but in the confines of a relationship, we were wild animals forced together in a cage.

I know few will understand us. Hell, even I don’t understand how I could have so much passion and fire for someone that stretched me thin and forever kept me at the brink of insanity.

But I was beyond questioning it.

Jeno slipped his tongue in your mouth and you grabbed his hips, pulling him flush against you. His kisses were surpassing hungry and landing somewhere near ravenous. The intensity must have scared him, because Jeno suddenly parted from you and took a step back.

You rubbed your lips bashfully, not realizing you were panting until it was the only sound in the quiet dressing room. And Jeno was breathing just as heavily.

“What’s wrong?”

Jeno shook his head. “I want you so bad.”

You snickered. Here you were on a silver platter and he was the one that put distance between you.

Though you opened your mouth to say something snarky, Jeno spoke up, “But you’re going to leave me.”

Your heart sank. It dawned on you; this summer was the end to a lot of things. Youth was ending. The band was ending and with it, all of your dreams.

And the tie between me and Jeno would have to finally be severed so my life with Mark could start.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured. You didn’t want to think about Jeno and his broken heart. Or that the drugs you scolded him over were what he used to fill the void you left behind.

Jeno respected the hell out of you for having the strength to leave him. He never could walk away from you even though he knew it was for the best. You would spend your whole life trying to fix him while he would always use you as a crutch.

It wasn’t fair to either you or him.

“Mark is good for you,” Jeno said in barely a whisper, his eyes glistening.

You shook your head. “I don’t want to talk about Mark.”

Jeno swallowed the lump in his throat. Seeing his pain reflected back at him on your face was too much. “Get high with me.”

Your eyes went wide. “Why?”

“You’re my person,” he said, vulnerable. “The only one I’ve ever wanted to do it with.”

This was what you struggled to put into words - the hold this boy had on you. He was bottomless ocean depths.

“It’s always you and me. We do everything together,” Jeno continued, reaching for your hand and leaving a kiss on your knuckles.

You let him pull you back into his arms and asked, “What if I die?”

“I’ll bring you back,” he whispered, pressing a tender kiss to your brow that completely melted you.

“What if you die?”

“Let me go.”

Your eyes suddenly shone with the threat of tears. “Never.”

Jeno leaned into you, stealing a kiss from your lips. “Just this once, babe.”

You paused, thinking it over. Everything inside you screamed, “Yes!” Jeno never failed to bring this side out of you - the reckless, starved one that didn’t give a damn about consequences. You always feared if that was the real you, the true you. “Just this once,” you said quietly, closing your eyes as Jeno sealed his lips to yours again.

The idea of getting high reached out to you with gentle, caressing fingertips, promising to banish the pain and numb the hurt.

Tearing himself away from you once more, Jeno walked over to the door and locked it.

Yet another first time with Jeno to add to my list.

You were caught off-guard at how fast the high kicked in and never before had you noticed how tense your body was until it wasn’t anymore. Your mind was even lighter. There was no more torment. You could feel that it was there, but it didn’t ache any longer.

The sensation was indescribable. You were whole, perfect, immortal and invincible all at once.

And that was how you found yourself on the couch with Jeno, pawing at each other like animals in heat.

“Jeno?”

“I know.”

You sucked in a breath as he nipped at your neck and asked weakly, “Am I going crazy?”

“Babe,” he said, meeting your eyes with a smirk. “You been crazy.”

You laughed and the sound was music to Jeno’s ears, making his smile widen.

Time blurred together. It could have been the next day or the next year for all you cared. All you knew was this moment with Jeno and how it lasted a lifetime.

You sank deeper into the sofa beneath Jeno’s weight. Your thighs were hooked on his hips, hands roaming his taut, muscly back. Both your shirt and his tee were somewhere on the floor, along with your bra.

Jeno kept grinding into you, each movement rougher than the last. “Fuck,” he swore, lips brushing your ear. “I just know you’re getting so fucking wet right now.”

He wasn’t wrong.

A wanton noise of pleasure escaped you and Jeno ate it up. You were burning by a thousand degrees, it was almost painful. You had never craved someone’s body on such a primal level before.

With Mark, it was love, but this? This was lust running wild with abandon.

The doorknob wiggled. You didn’t hear it over the loud thumping in your ears and neither did Jeno, who was far too busy bruising your neck whilst he kneaded your breasts, pinching your nipples to make you squirm. Haechan didn’t need to try the knob again to know what was going on. He turned to Mark, who was coming down the hall, and led him away.

“They’re working out their issues. Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said hurriedly. Mark hesitated, but didn’t argue. He was none the wiser. With the way you and Jeno had been at each other’s throats, it never crossed his mind that you would fuck him.

Meanwhile, you were discovering new uncharted levels of arousal, undulating beneath Jeno, trying to match his movements, which were getting faster and harder. The drugs in your system made everything feel more intense, all-consuming. There was no tension, no insecurity, just instinct and pleasure.

Jeno was definitely waiting for you to give him the green light, and you were enjoying keeping it from him, but the throbbing between your legs was unbearable.

You planted your hands on his thick chest and pushed, making Jeno prop over you and look into your face. “Wanna fuck now?” you asked sheepishly.

His pupils dilated. “I thought you’d never ask.”

You whined when Jeno clambered off of you, standing next to the sofa and unfastening his pants. Before he drew them down his thighs, he pulled condoms from his pocket and dropped them on your lap.

“Two?” You snorted. “My lucky day.”

“One for each girl. You know, the ones you chased away from me.”

Licking your lips as his hard cock sprang into view, you grabbed him by the hips and purred, “I called first dibs on that dick years ago.”

Jeno chuckled, but his expression changed on a dime when you leaned in. He watched you drag your lips over his abs, kissing and nibbling along his happy trail. His breaths stuttered as he said, “Whenever you want it, it’s all yours.”

You peeked up at him hotly. “I want it now.”

While Jeno fitted himself with a condom, you shimmied out of your pants and underwear, and the moment they were on the floor, you turned onto your knees, braced yourself on the arm of the sofa, and arched your back, sticking your ass in the air.

He wouldn’t be able to resist it for a second.

“Fuck you,” Jeno hissed, getting into position behind you and raking his cock between your folds, gathering your slick from tip to base.

You wiggled your hips. Your brain was clouded with lust and drugs, and something purely hungry for Jeno. Like he was your favorite meal. “Gimme it,” you huffed, glancing over your shoulder. “What the fuck is taking so long?”

Jeno gave your ass a smack, making you squeak. “You need to calm down,” he chided with a grin, still sliding his length between your slit. He was so riled up his hips jerked against you involuntarily.

You reached between your legs, getting a hand around his dick and steering it into your aching pussy. Jeno let you, biting his lip and smirking at how goddamn horny you were for him.

The head of his cock pressed into your entrance and you grasped the arm of the sofa with both hands as Jeno began thrusting forward, working himself inside until he impaled you on every last inch of his girthy cock. You buried your face in the couch, biting down on the stressed leather.

Jeno gripped your waist tight and drew you to him until he was balls deep in your tight heat, feeling your walls stretch and flutter around his length. The drugs amplified everything about you; your warmth, your scent, your sounds. He barely noticed the condom at all.

When he drew back and shoved his cock back into your cunt, you lifted your head and cried, “Fuck!”

“You’re so wet,” Jeno growled, sinking in and out to hear your slick pussy welcoming him back.

You whimpered. “Fuck you and that big dick,” you mumbled, but you didn’t mean a word of it. You weren’t sure how much you could blame the drugs anymore. You wanted him to plow the living shit out of you until there was nothing left.

Jeno took that personally. As a challenge more than anything. He squeezed your waist in his hands and smacked his hips into your ass, driving his cock into your core and giving you something to really whine about.

It was all you could do not to scream as he took you for all you were worth. You fisted the couch in your hands until your knuckles ached and you threw yourself back to meet his strokes, a noise escaping on your hoarse throat with every rushed breath. Sex was a drug all its own. It just felt too damn good.

Jeno kept his hard pace, making sure he landed flush against your heat every time, and brushed his hands up your body to wrap them around your throat and tip your head back. “Yeah, that’s my good slut,” he taunted, the smack of his body colliding with yours getting louder. “She’s taking all that dick, huh?”

The sounds you made were humiliating, but they only made Jeno harder. His grip on your neck had you slack-jawed, your eyes winched closed. Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him!

It wasn’t fair that he had that kind of power over my body. With him, I felt desired and powerful, and between that - untainted. Unbroken. Jeno never saw me for the damaged goods that I was. To him, I was always perfect. He completed me. No matter how unhealthy it was, I wanted it.

I didn’t need drugs. Jeno’s love was my high.

“Don’t stop,” you choked out, his hands heavy on your strained vocal chords. “Don’t ever stop...”

Loving me. Though the words wouldn’t come, Jeno knew them.

“Never, baby,” Jeno said, releasing your throat in favor of your waist, draping himself over you and burying his face in your neck. His hands wandered your breasts as he plunged in as far as he could go and stopped, leaving a few scattered, reassuring kisses across your shoulders.

Your body trembled when he bottomed out, aching with need and overstimulation. You swallowed to wet your throat, panting for air, and asked, “Why are you…?”

“You’re so fucking high, baby,” Jeno crooned, touching you gently and affectionately. “Just trust me.”

He was right. You were high on drugs and his body. You were a nerve laid bare, every brush of his hands enough to make you shiver. Your body pulsated, like you were being dangled over the edge, the pressure becoming too much to bear.

You held yourself up on hands and knees, tortured by the fact he was no longer moving inside you, but his hands playing with your breasts and his lips on your neck had your attention. The stimulation was sending more shudders across your skin, making you lean into his touch as your core throbbed for him.

“Part of you will always be mine,” Jeno whispered into your neck. “I know you’ll pick him over me, but part of you will always miss me.”

You tensed with unshed tears and cried, “I know.”

“I need you to know it’s okay,” Jeno said, turning your head and kissing you with so much pain and pleasure it knocked the wind out of you.

You kissed him back, reaching up to thread your fingers into his hair. It was a cruel curse - to love someone so deeply that was bad for you.

Jeno broke the kiss and rocked gently into you, staying in deep and lilting his cock inside your walls, the head of him kissing your cervix. Normally, you would have pushed at his hips for some mercy, but the high made you impervious to pain.

Suddenly, he thrust in hard but slow, arching his hips. You staggered out a moan and reached out to steady yourself, almost knocked off balance by his strength.

He did it again and again.

Tears pricked at your eyes. Jeno was hitting you with those drawn-out, domineering strokes, making you feel every inch of him slam against your sweet spot. He may have agreed to never hold you choosing Mark over him against you, but he was going to give you one final reminder of how absolute his control of your body was.

“I’m coming,” you warned, his name a mantra on your tongue as you took all he had to give. You were grateful for the roar of music coming from the other side of the wall, drowning out your cries and Jeno’s moans.

Jeno fisted a hand in your hair while the other still tugged and rolled your nipples. He kept his pace, hips slapping into your ass at a perfect rhythm, knowing you were on the edge of orgasm with the way your walls clamped down on his cock.

“Fuck!” Another brutal thrust sent you into ecstasy. You shook and swore, trying to crawl away from him, but Jeno was on you, shoving you into the couch and riding out your high.

“Good girl,” Jeno hissed, watching you writhe beneath him. He went still and tipped his head back, letting out a tiny moan.

You blinked to clear your eyes. You could feel the bruises forming in your skin as Jeno pinned you to the couch. It only turned you on more. When you realized he was still hard, that he hadn’t come, you mumbled under your breath. He was supposed to finish with you.

Jeno’s eyes flickered. Another moan escaped him as you rolled your hips, desperate for friction. He drifted his hands to your hair, gathering it all in his fists.

You sat up and went to work, fucking him as best you could in your position. Despite the condom, your pussy wanted to milk every drop of cum out of his dick. Post-nut clarity hadn’t set in. Either the drugs or the orgasm made you even more feral for this dumb boy.

“Oh, fuck,” Jeno groaned, watching you throw it back, bouncing your ass on him, taking him like a fucking champ. His abs tightened as he tried not to pound the fuck out of you. Instead, he reeled his hand back and slapped your ass, goading you.

“Come for me, baby,” you said darkly, the room echoing with the loud, wet clap of your bodies meeting.

Jeno growled a low curse in this throat. Suddenly he was on the edge, driven by your command and that tight fucking cunt.

You shrieked in surprise when he flipped you over roughly, the sound devolving into a moan when he steered his cock back into your pussy, grabbed your waist, and drilled into you like he would never get the chance again.

He didn’t last long at that pace. Jeno threw his head back and came, one moan after another tumbling from his pretty mouth, each one more ragged than the last as he emptied himself into the condom.

You brushed your hands over his thighs and hips, whispering little nothings as he came, feeling him shake like a leaf as he buried himself inside you. Once Jeno settled down, you touched his chest and asked, “Holy shit. Are you okay?”

“I’m good,” he wheezed, voice cracking, all the air knocked out of him.

Biting your lip to fight a laugh, you failed to hide the smug grin taking over your face.

“Don’t,” Jeno said weakly, rubbing at his eyes.

“You just came so hard you cried,” you teased, pinching his nipple for good measure.

“Don’t make fun of me.”

Feeling him about to pull out, you reached for his waist and held him there, joking, “I will remember this, forever and ever, and I will bring it up every time you get on my nerves.”

“You’re the worst.” He sobered, leaning in close. “And you’re the best I've ever had.”

You smiled as he kissed you, sealing his words on your lips. Then you giggled as his mouth traveled over your chest, sucking on a nipple. Your buds were still stiff and Jeno couldn’t resist.

“I see how easy it is to get addicted,” you said when Jeno got up to discard the condom. “That shit is intense.”

“Told you.”

Sitting up, you ran your hands through your messy hair. You could only imagine how you looked; makeup smeared, glistening with sweat. “You know you have to stop,” you told him, making your voice gentle.

Jeno afforded you no looks. “Eventually.”

You were too tired to argue, sore and spent in the best ways. When Jeno returned to the couch, you welcomed him with open arms, pulling him close and steering him to lay his head on your naked chest. You stroked your fingers through his hair and over his broad shoulders, and whispered, “I’ll never let you die, Jeno.”

He stayed quiet.

“You’re not allowed to leave me.”

“Stalker.”

You snorted back a laugh. “You know what I mean.”

“I do.” Jeno lifted his head and nuzzled your cheek, teasing, “I just think it’s cute how obsessed you are with me.”

You kept touching him. His skin was just so hot beneath your fingertips, like caressing an open flame. “Are you really okay with dying?” you asked after a moment.

Jeno shrugged. “It’s unavoidable. I don’t see the point in sweating over it.” As he spoke, Jeno kissed at your neck slowly, curious if he could get you riled up again.

Your lashes fluttered and you shifted underneath him. Though he left you more than satisfied, the longer he kissed over your pulse and palmed your breasts, the quicker the ache in your core came back, ready to be filled up again.

Jeno reached down to cup your sex, running his finger over your swollen clit and swearing under his breath when he felt your soaked entrance, thinking how easily he could slide right back in and make you feel good. Both of you.

“If you died,” you stammered, struggling to form words as he touched you. “I don’t think I would ever smile again.”

Jeno was caught off-guard. He stopped pawing at you to look in your eyes, wondering if you realized just how heavy a thing that was to say. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” he told you innocently, kissing the corner of your mouth with affection.

It was the first time you’d seen him so serious. Not hiding behind his usual humor.

Jeno was surprised when you pushed him away and reached for your pants on the floor. He watched curiously as you rifled through your pocket and withdrew a balled-up piece of paper and handed it to him.

“For the memoir?”

You nodded, watching him unfurl the page, your heart thumping harshly in your chest. “Yeah, I’m constantly jotting stuff down.”

Jeno’s eyes drifted over your words.

I can’t stand him. He infuriates me. He makes me crazy. But Jeno is the one person that knows me - the good and the bad, and accepts them both.

I love my boys, but he’s the one I don’t think I could ever live without.

Jeno peered at you with glassy eyes, shining with tears. “Damn it,” he groaned, crashing his lips on yours.

As expected, you made use of that second condom.

Jeno hooked your legs in the crooks of his arms and thrust languidly, staring down at you. Your eyes never parted as he gave you release once more, knowing when the summer was over, he would never get to touch you again.

When all was said and done, the two of you slumped into opposite sides of the sofa, soaked with sweat. Once you caught your breath and Jeno returned from tossing the condom, it was your turn to clamber on top of him, using his chest as your pillow. You rested your head on his shoulder and traced senseless patterns over his collarbone with your fingertips.

Jeno said your name. “I want you to be happy. That’s all I want, but I know I can’t give it to you. I tried.”

You closed your eyes. It would keep the tears at bay. “I know.”

“I feel sorry for you, loving all three of us. It can’t be easy.”

“It’s what I was made for,” you said softly, tightening your arms around him, lest he fly away from you and never return.

Jeno changed subjects before it broke him. “I’ve never felt so self-aware of how it feels to be young. And how it doesn’t last long.”

You nodded slightly. “This time is precious.”

“I wouldn’t say precious. Definitely fun though.”

You snickered, relieved to hear his humor coming back, but a somber feeling rushed over you. “Do you think we’ll ever get tired of it?”

“Of what?”

“The performing, the fucking, and… the drugs.”

Jeno paused. “You mean each other.”

You sighed tersely. There was no hiding it from him.

My biggest fear was that my boys would hate me. That I would be a bitter reminder of what could have been, how close we were to our dreams before crash landing back on earth, broken and bruised forever from the fall.

Jeno brushed his fingers up and down your back, and kissed the top of your head. “I don’t think we’ll resent each other if this fails, babe,” he said in a low voice. Some things just aren’t meant to be, he thought sadly. Like you and me.

“If that happened, I think I would die,” you whimpered, burrowing your face in his chest.

“Don’t talk like that,” Jeno said, running his hand mischievously over your thigh. “But stop being so afraid of death. You’ll waste your life running from something that is going to catch you no matter what.”

You tipped your head back to kiss him. “I just know the devil dreads meeting us. We’ll steal his throne.”

Jeno kissed you back hotly. “Hell yeah. I can’t wait to fuck you on it.”

You laughed.

Hard to steal something that already belongs to you, Jeno.

#nct #nct smut #jeno #jeno smut #nct dream smut #jeno x reader

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 11 months ago

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Tan breaking the bed?? So now we have to both sleep on the couch.That's it, that's the whole smutty request. It must be Horny for Tan season or something (when is it not?) 💺 anon

loving where your head is at😌 always horny for tan season on this blog. thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌 inspired by the suggestive text convos. and the image has no relevance to the fic but his arm and hand??????????? help

MONEY WHERE HIS MOUTH IS.

tangerine x fem!reader

word count. 498

warnings. 18+ only!! unprotected pinv, mating press, breaking beds. minors dni

Tangerine has been away on a two-week-long mission in South Africa, and the extent to which you missed each other was always incomprehensible. The distance and time apart isn't an uncommon part of your relationship - it was simply a kink in the road you've grown to be become comfortable with.

This time, while he was away, he filled you with an insatiable want for him, a thirst that couldn't be quenched with the hundreds of miles of distance between you. It was need he fed regularly with his filthy texts and voice notes.

So when he returned home safely to you, he put his money where his mouth is - fulfilling every one of those promises he made to you during your late-night calls.

He had you on your shared bed within minutes of being back, your naked self lying desperately under him. His weight balanced on the backs of your knees, pushing down onto your thighs as he continuously drives his cock into you - holding you in mating press.

The wind of his hips urgent and erratic, the deep need to feel you wrapped around him being the only solid thought in his brain. His strokes precise and intricate, every move made with intention - as if there's preparation and thought behind each thrust he gives you.

Every drag of his cock rips out broken noises from you, his weight knocking strained sounds from the pits of your stomach. The only other sounds in the room being his soft grunts, the hasty creaking of the bed and the slapping of sticky, wet skin. All of the lewd sounds merging together.

His expression is primal and desperate, staring down at you with that carnal look he often wears - curls falling from his usual pushed-back-do, stray hairs danging across his forehead as he vigorously fucks himself into you.

Just as you feel another high rise to the surface, you hear the cry of help of the bedframe from under you - the creaking getting louder and louder. The wooden slats sounding mere moments away from giving in.

He brushes away your cautious expression, shaking his head as if to quieten you - putting off that thought like he was trying to concentrate. The throbbing of his cock inside you alluding to his close release.

"Shush. It don't matter," he coos, his voice hoarse. "Will get a new one, just— just focus, love."

You do as asked, nodding up at him as you reach for his wrists, wrapping your fingers around the thickness like you were trying to keep him there - getting back in the zone and distracting yourself from the inevitable break of the bed.

You feel Tangerine tense up - his body stilling above before you feel a dip in the mattress beneath you, the frame caving in from under. He shakes his head frustratedly and readjusts his position, fucking you into the broken bed until you're both gasping and blubbering from your climaxes.

sorry it’s kinda short and shit

#request #💺#tangerine #tangerine smut #tangerine x reader #tangerine x fem!reader #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x you #tangerine fanfiction

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2knightt · 2 years ago

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↳my rhymes, my pen, my pad.₊˚✧

──IN WHICH, miles falls head over heels inlove!。✦

||✰ — 1610!miles morales x gn!reader.

you weren’t new to this school, you’ve been going for so long now. it got boring, nothing interesting ever happens there.

same preppy people walk in and out, always on time, always talking about the same stuff.

your teacher brought out a projector and put on some video.

you weren’t the slightest bit interested. you were drawing on the sides of your work sheet, drawing nonsense.

you heard the classroom door swing open and some kid, with papers and books flying all over the places stumbled in.

“you’re late, morales.”

morales, that’s new. you think to yourself as he stands in front of the projector, looking scared.

you stare at him longer, trying to see if you recognize him, but you don’t.

miles was scanning the classroom while trying to figure out what to say next, when his eyes met yours.

miles was—stunned to say the least.

you were gorgeous, even if you looked a little bit intimidating.

your hair framed your face just right, your lips looked soft, everything about you was just, breathtaking.

miles realized all eyes were on him and started to open his mouth without thinking.

“Einstein said time was relevant. maybe i’m not late, maybe you’re just early.”

he said, with a shrug and an awkward smile.

you smiled, you have to admit it.

what a dork, you thought to yourself as you heard a chuckle from the other side of the room.

you could tell he was embarrassed, he looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

to which, he did.

miles looked for any sort of reaction in you, but all he got was a smile.

that smile was all he could think about as he sat next to this blond haired girl.

was it a good smile? or was it a bad smile?

were you making fun of him? did you think he was funny?

you had filled his thoughts, without even knowing.

before miles knew it, he was walking to his uncles house.

he had pulled out his phone, took a picture of his uncle, and sent it to him.

aaron laughed, opening the window as miles pushed his face against it.

his uncle welcomed him in, seating miles next to him on the couch.

“whatchu want? is it romantic troubles?”

“h-how’d you know?! what’re you, a wizard?”

aaron chuckled at his nephew, and started to push him for more questions.

“well, what’re they like? do you know ‘em? what’s their name?”

miles just stared at his uncle.

he didn’t know.

he didn’t know your name, how you act, or anything.

he only knows your smile, and that alone was enough to make him like you.

god that’s so embarrassing.

“i uh, dunno.”

“whatchu mean you don’t know?”

aaron asks, laughing immediately after.

he thought it was so funny that miles didn’t know shit about you!

“well—it was a uh, love at first sight typa thing. you get it, right? right?!”

miles started to play with his fingers, he didn’t know why he was so nervous to talk about you.

“how do i start a conversation with them?”

aaron looks down and shakes his head, like miles just asked the stupidest question ever.

“you just gotta do the ol’ shoulder touch, man.”

“what’s that?”

miles asked, tilting his head slightly to the side.

his uncle chuckles, looking down before gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

he looks up and with the most smug voice miles has ever heard says,

“hey.”

miles started to laugh, like he wasn’t allowed to laugh anywhere else.

“so like, hey.”

he said, mocking his uncle.

the two of them started laughing like there was no tomorrow.

but unfortunately for miles, there was.

he saw you in the halls, so he took the opportunity to run up to you.

“h-hey, wait!”

you heard the shouting come from behind you.

you looked behind you and you couldn’t recognize the guy off the bat but nonetheless, you listened.

he stopped right in front of you, crouching down with his hands on his knees like he had just run a marathon.

he finally stood up after what seemed like hours.

he looked at you dead in your eyes, and you have to be honest, you kinda got uncomfortable with his stare.

he looked nervous just staring at you. jeez, you weren’t that scary, were you?

he slowly placed a hand on your shoulder, and looked like he was trying to, i don’t know, look cool?

“hey.”

you giggled at his poor attempt to start a conversation with you.

you didn’t mean to, it was just—hard not to!

“hey. do i, know you or something?”

miles started to panic, he didn’t think it’d go this far!

“i-uh-yeah! we have science together! i’m miles morales.”

“oh! lovely to finally meet you morales. i’m y/n.”

you said, sticking your hand out for him to shake.

he looked at it for a second and took your hand.

y/n, what a cute name. miles thought to himself as the bell rung.

“ugh, it’s so loud for no reason.”

you complained, letting go of his hand.

“yeah, i know right.”

“well—i’ll see you ‘round, miles.”

you said, walking away while waving.

miles just nodded and waved back. he could tell he looked like a loser, he could feel his muscles all tense as he waved back.

when you were out of sight, he finally relaxed.

he finally talked to you, and he got your name!

miles has got to tell uncle aaron about this later!

thank u guys for 200 followers i might cry

#2knightt #into the spider verse #across the spiderverse #miles morales x reader #1610!miles x reader #into the spider verse x reader #across the spider verse x reader

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centrally-unplanned · 1 month ago

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youtube

Fuck seed oil discourse, fuck globalism conspiracy great replacement bullshit, the internet of today sucks. We have to go back, back to the way things were. When men, real men - who may have been catgirls to be clear since you never saw their faces - would tell you what The System refused to say: that your understanding of a battle from 2000+ years ago that you got from Westpoint textbook formation diagrams as bastardized by some other YouTube channel is an inaccurate portrayal of the event based on the 500 hours they spent building a brick-by-brick simulation of the battle in the Unreal engine. Enviously-autistic levels of devotion to a topic that is never, ever going to be politically or personally relevant a day of your life.

This is what the internet is for.

Anyway I only just started watching, but I can tell I am gonna be a fighter with dear Invicta up here. My bet is that 50% of this video's point is going to be the perfectly correct statement that the 1970's model of the battle that people have in their minds is wrong. Back when academics read Livy, read Polybius, and were like "yep, these two authors who are honestly contradicting themselves 20% of the time sound legit, let's take em at their word". Which is a valid point to make, obviously, I just bet the branding of the video will run a bit of aground of the need to cite the dozens of more modern academics who already know this. You have "you are wrong about Cannae" articles dating back to the 90's, and that is just one I knew off the top of my head - I have no doubt there are earlier ones. Cannae's sources are spotty, and our understanding of it will always be vague and debated.

The other 50% is going to be what I would call "model devotion" - essentially taking the conclusions of the model as a sort of gospel. But the model is, of course, built from the same vague guesswork as the spotty sources, and is a process of embedding assumptions. Right in the opening he declares that "once you realize how big the battle is, the idea of an organized retreat over a distance of a kilometer is impossible to consider" idk man I can consider it! Have you looked at military history? People do crazy shit, particularly when they are prepared to do it. If Nasir could lead men 600 miles across the desert to attack Aqaba by land, I think these guys can fight for a few kilometers. Doesn't mean they did, but in particular if it was so crazy contemporary sources probably would have pointed it out themselves (Polybius, not Livy - Livy sucks). People tend to over-assume the ignorance of the past - Cannae was a momentous event. Romans wanted to understand it, and we should extend at least some credit to them on that front.

But again, I have only watched a little bit of it - overall it looks great, really! He clearly did a ton of research and work, anyone who is building custom maps of the Aufidus River's historical floodplain to estimate various battle site locations deserves all the credit in the world. I will watch the whole thing, maybe he will convince me!

#Youtube

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haveatthee83 · 4 months ago

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The Princess and her Fool (Buggy D. Clown/Reader) 2/4

Inspo: BABY SAID-MÅNESKIN & @sordidmusings Tender Love and Care

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Word Count: ~9.7k

Warnings: SMUT!! MINORS DNI, cursing, insecurity, cunnilingus, oral, irresponsible use of devil fruits, overstimulation, multiple orgasms.

A/N: MÅNESKIN is Buggy coded, no I won't elaborate, all chapters are inspired by different MÅNESKIN songs. Also, absolutely read the linked fic, @sordidmusings is an ICONIC writer with amazing fics. @fanaticsnail as well. They're actually the reason I started posting on Tumblr at all, so all the love for and to them. ❤️❤️❤️

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Buggy hated the bag. The fuckin itchy ass bag those asshole Straw-Hats kept him in when they decided his jokes weren’t very entertaining anymore, between navigation attempts. It smelled, it rubbed against the skin of his nose in a way that made him hate it more than he already did, and worst of all, it made it so he didn’t even have the peace of looking around at his surroundings to distract him from the pain of Arlong’s pirates’ darts games. The only reprieve he got from the irritating fabric was when you were on “Clown Watch”.

You had taken it upon yourself to make sure Buggy(‘s head) was well cared for and comfortable. You had no good reason to do so, logically speaking. He’d been awful to you and your friends not too long ago. He was a ruthless, horrid pirate captain who would be immediately put to death by the government if he ever crossed a Marine’s path. His own parents didn’t want anything to do with him just for being born. It’s not like you even remember him. You didn’t even realize he’s your childhood friend, Peacock. And yet…here you were. Doting on him.

“Now,” you started, still facing away from Buggy, running your mop over the wooden planks of the ship’s deck, “I know this is pretty boring, but I gotta just finish this section, then we can get some lunch! I heard Sanji’s making hot sandwiches and lemonade. I’ll make sure to snag you some too, okay?”

Buggy blinked at you from his perch on his barrel for a moment, just taking you in. You were humming, swaying with the rocking waves, the sun beating down onto your exposed shoulders over your tank top. Your smile was small, but content as you eyed the planks below you attentively.

‘Does she actually think I give a shit that it’s boring to watch someone mop? I’m outside. I can breathe clearly. That’s already miles ahead of the norm.’ Buggy thought.

“That-that’s alright Doll…” he said, swallowing the rest of his thoughts.

You immediately sensed that something was wrong, eyeing Buggy over your shoulder with a piercing glare, “What’s wrong, Buggy?” he tried to sputter out an excuse or something to get you to drop it. You did no such thing, fully turning around to face him, coming up to the barrel he sat on and crouched down to his level. Unrelated but relevant-to him, this gave Buggy a perfect eye full of your chest under your tank top. “Uh-uh. You haven’t made any jokes in like thirty minutes. No raunchy comments about my ass when I was turned around, no comments about the ‘shitty cook’? Nothing. Are you okay?” you said genuinely, perching your hands on the rim of the barrel in front of Buggy.

‘Your ass does look great in those shorts.’ Buggy thought.

Buggy swallowed, scowling at you, “I’m fine, Doll face,” you frowned, holding his gaze like you were trying to read his mind.

“People who are fine don’t act like completely different people out of nowhere.” You scolded, wagging a finger in Buggy’s face. “Do you have a fever or something? Are you getting too hot?” you asked, automatically reaching a hand toward Buggy’s forehead, only stopping short by a centimeter, “Is it…can I feel your forehead, Buggy?” you asked.

Buggy felt heat rising to his face, his ears burning, “You can, but I feel fine.”

Your frown returned, having just melted off of your face. You rolled your eyes and huffed, “Men.” You muttered under your breath, gently laying your warm hand on Buggy’s forehead. Buggy had to actively stop himself from sighing into your touch, setting his jaw. You scanned his face, brows furrowed. “You do feel kinda warm…” you trailed off, looking at the spotless floors around you, weighing something out in your mind. After a moment, you nodded resolutely and stood straight, eyes never leaving Buggy’s face for long. “Let’s go inside. We can stay in my room for the afternoon. I don’t think the ship will sink if I don’t re-mop one little corner.” You say, gently taking Buggy into your hands, minding his face.

You settle him against your torso, facing forwards as you walk towards the kitchen. As you carefully swing open the kitchen door, finding Sanji hard at work, a pile of grilled sandwiches building up higher and higher next to him. Buggy heard and felt you giggle a bit, “Busy, Sanji?” you jest, setting Buggy down onto the counter.

“Never too busy for you, mon cher,” Sanji purred, continuing to produce sandwiches at an almost concerning pace, “Luffy’s going to eat through this stack in less than a minute, and I’m still trying to gauge how much I should be making for him.” Sanji chuckled as he turned his head, looking at you over his shoulder.

You smiled, shaking your head at your captain’s antics, all the while reaching up to a cabinet just above Buggy’s head, the fabric of your tank top riding up and brushing his face, his wide eyes able to drink in the expanse of skin that was revealed. Buggy clenched his jaw and tried to suppress the heat that was rising to his ears.

You found what you were looking for, two glasses. That didn’t help Buggy’s predicament at all, he’s hopelessly not used to being taken care of, thought of, or helped…at all. By a pretty girl who laughed at his jokes? EVEN LESS.

“Where’d you put the lemonade, Sanji?” you asked, resting the glasses next to Buggy.

“Oh, right over here.”

“Great!” you reached over and found the large jug of cool liquid and brought it back over to Buggy, pouring the glasses full to the brim. You paused as you set it down, eyeing Buggy closely. Buggy could almost feel himself beginning to sweat, ‘maybe she’s realizing I’m not good enough for all of this.’ Just as the thought entered his mind, you beamed, an idea popping into your head. You quickly opened a drawer right beneath Buggy and grabbed something, you eyed Buggy with a mischievous grin and tucked the item into your back pocket. Buggy tried to question you, his brow cocking up when you interrupted him, leaning to his eye level and whispering, eyeing Sanji. “How hungry are you? I can grab a few extra sandwiches if you want. Sanji lets girls get away with a lot more than the boys.” You said, your hand cupped next to your mouth, trying to minimize any sound heading Sanji’s way.

Buggy felt that heat rising in his face again, “You-you don’t have to do that for me, Doll! Seriously” he sputtered, trying his best to keep his voice down.

You rolled your eyes and flicked Buggy’s ear as you stood back up, immediately walking over to Sanji’s side, grabbing a plate. “Could I grab a few extra sandwiches, Sanji?” you asked, resting your free hand onto his forearm. Buggy could see the tips of Sanji’s ears go red. “They look delicious, and I was hoping to get some for my night watch tonight, you know, before Luffy eats them all?” you giggled, subtly leaning into Sanji’s space that little bit more. Buggy was suppressing a frown when you eyed him over Sanji’s shoulder with a grin and a little wink.

‘Ah, flirting as a means to an end.’ Buggy kind of figured that’s what you were doing, but seeing you being flirty with someone other than him had his teeth grinding.

“Anything for you, mon cher,” Sanji proclaimed, serving you up four sandwiches fresh out of the pan. “Let me know if you need anything else.” He purred. You smiled and voiced your thanks, giving Sanji a quick hug, rushing Buggy’s way. Sanji was too distracted by your hug to notice you whipping out of the room, feet pattering down the hall.

You set Buggy down onto your bed, resting him onto your plush pillow. “Sanji’s a great cook, but that little flirt is barking up all the wrong trees,” you giggled, “he’s way too young for me, and of course Nami is not into it.” With a grin, you slid a crate you had been using as a side table over toward your bed, resting the food and drinks onto it. After setting it down you stood up and stretched your sore muscles, a chorus of pops and cracks coming from your joints. You sighed at the feeling.

Buggy watched you, peering at you from his position on your pillow. His eyes raked over your figure, resting onto the bare skin of your legs, and finding the small side string of your bikini peaking over the hem of your shorts. Buggy swallowed dryly, trying to stop staring like some perv, but he honestly felt like he couldn’t. Because that’s when his eyes laid rest on your face, your eyes closed, your lashes brushing your cheeks. Your soft lips parted just slightly. In that moment, Buggy felt like he might have found the most beautiful thing the whole ocean had to offer. Buggy didn’t want to leave you in a few days. He wanted you to come with him. He wanted a lot of things with you, but…he knew he needed to see you more. Being cut off cold turkey after days full of little moments where he’s been the happiest that he’s been since Gol D. Roger? That might destroy him.

“So, I was thinking lunch, then I need a bath, then we can read more of our book together or something if you want.” You said, rolling out your neck. Your eye cracked open at his silence and your brow furrowed. You eyed Buggy, coming to take a seat on your bed, taking Buggy in your hands as you adjusted yourself to sit comfortably. When you settled, you sat Buggy back on your pillow and frowned. “What’s wrong, Buggy?” you asked, carefully moving a piece of hair out of his face, tucking it behind his ear.

Honestly? Buggy was out of funny things to say. There was nothing funny about the way you made him feel.

Buggy sighed, “I don’t know, Doll. It’s hard to explain.” He said, and you couldn’t help but notice he wouldn’t meet your eye.

“If you don’t want to talk about it…is there something I can do to make it better? Easier?” you asked, “I’m here to help you, okay Bugs?” you said with a smile, your hand reaching out to hold the side of his face. Buggy leaned into your hand without thinking, stiffening when he realized what he’d done. But…when he looked up at your face, you were just smiling. You held the most genuine smile he’d seen in years. “Here, let’s eat.” You said, stroking Buggy’s cheek with your thumb before taking your hand back, grabbing one of the glasses of lemonade.

Buggy couldn’t help but huff out a laugh, “How am I gonna drink that? I’m gonna get lemonade all over your bed.”

Your grin only widened as you reached behind you and produced from your back pocket…a bendy straw. Buggy’s eyebrows drew together in just sheer confusion. Confusion about how he got here, what he could have done to deserve this. To deserve you. And frankly, he was drawing a blank.

A gentle tink of the straw disturbing the ice in the glass made Buggy come to. You giggled a bit as you lowered the glass to Buggy’s level, holding the straw still for him. Buggy only hesitated for a heartbeat before (metaphorically) shrugging and taking a long sip from the straw. The lemonade was good, perfectly tart, not too sweet, and ice cold. How long had it been since he had lemonade?

“Alright, for the sandwiches, do you want me to rip them up or just hold it for you?” you asked, swapping the lemonade for the plate of sandwiches.

Buggy found himself stuttering again, “What-whatever’s easier for you, I guess.” He muttered. You nodded and grabbed one of the sandwich halves, minding your fingers against the hot fillings. You carefully ripped off a corner, holding it out to Buggy as you took a bite of the larger piece. Buggy carefully took the sandwich piece in his mouth, trying not to spook you by accidentally brushing his lips against your fingers.

As Buggy chewed on his meal, he thought to himself, ‘Wait…would…would she mind?’ Buggy had this funny little thing about him. He was a bit of a failure…but he was always failing up. He could stub his toe on a rock and by doing that, break a 100-year curse and get three wishes. So…maybe if he takes a little chance…fuck it.

“Damn that blond can cook.” You mutter, taking another bite of the sandwich half in your hand. After you took a bite, you ripped off another chunk of the sandwich and held it out for Buggy. Buggy couldn’t help but snort out a little laugh at your awe. You were right, they were damn good sandwiches, but your reaction completely caught him off guard.

You whipped your head to lock eyes onto Buggy’s. You hadn’t heard him laugh all day, and you realized in that moment that it was probably your favorite sound. “Eat your damned food, Buggy.” You said, thrusting the food closer to his face with a chuckle. Buggy complied with a grin, biting into it a bit too far, his lips brushing your fingertips as he pulled it away from your grasp. You physically stuttered at the feeling, your hand freezing in place, and you could feel warmth rushing your face. Buggy watched your face through his lashes, drinking in your flustered expression, a little pit of fear in his chest, miles away, but you didn’t leave. You didn’t yell, grimace, or smack him. You just stared for a moment. When you realized you were just sitting there like an idiot, you blinked yourself out of your stupor, shaking your head and handing him the rest of the sandwich half.

Buggy was feeling brave, a little high on your reactions. That’s why when you handed him the last bit, he decided to take a rather large bite. A bite big enough that his teeth nipped at your fingertips. You gasped, taking your hand back before flicking his ear, “No biting.” You hissed.

“No promises,” Buggy teased, a smirk spreading across his face. You sighed and grabbed another sandwich half, the rest of your lunch full of little nips and reprimands.

“I need a bath, Bugs.” You said, rifling through your drawers to find some fresh clothes.

Buggy huffed, “So? Why does that mean I have to deal with that moody-“ you cut him off with a deadpan stare. “I won’t look!” he insisted.

“And I should believe the infamous pirate captain, why?” you asked standing in front of him with your new outfit and a towel in your arms.

“Aww, you think I’m famous?” Buggy grinned. You crossed your arms and set your hip to the side, a pointed glare on your face. Buggy deflated a bit, eyeing the floor, “Come on, Starshine. I don’t wanna go back in the bag.” He muttered.

He saw you tense in his peripherals before dropping to your knees in front of him, taking his head in your hands, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. Buggy lifted his gaze to lock with your concerned eyes, “Do you…” you hesitated, clearing your throat, “I can ask if you can…just stay with me when you aren’t navigating.” You murmured, eyes searching his face for-something. What? Buggy had no idea.

Buggy’s eyes widened, “You don’t have to-“

“I want to.”

“You’d put up- “

“With what? Listening to jokes that make me laugh and keeping good company?”

“I’m not-“

“I’m asking.” You said firmly, “Don’t try anything stupid, I’ll be right back.” You said, and that’s when it happened. On reflex, without even thinking about it, like it was as natural as breathing, you rested your lips against Buggy’s hairline. It was quick, barely a peck, but it was enough. You rushed out of the room, “ZORO! LUFFY!” you called out, the sound of your voice and foot falls fading as you reached the end of the hallway.

Buggy felt like he was on fire, like every nerve in his body was lit up and buzzing with electricity. ‘You…you kissed me!’ he thought. ‘Me?! Buggy D. Clown?! You kissed me, and you’re about to ask…to spend more time with me?’ Buggy was dead, that had to be the answer. He was dead and had bribed his way into heaven. You were an angel sent to create his paradise. Well, maybe not. His paradise would probably include the rest of his body, and…other activities. Maybe you were just that amazing. Maybe you saw a pitiful, bodyless pirate captain with a big red nose and thought he deserved kindness. Thought he was a person worthy of your attention and affection. Maybe you…liked him.

“Okay, so,” you started, heaving the door to your room open, “You’re stuck with me now.” You said, walking toward where he sat on your pillow, “But, I had to take some extra night watches, so you better keep me company.” You chuckled, picking up your clothes and towel, rifling through drawers to find something.

“What are you doing, Doll?” Buggy asked as you gently lifted him up into your arms, heading out the door.

“I need a bath.” You said simply.

“Right.”

“You really are acting weird, Buggy. You haven’t been joking much at all today. You’ve only laughed like once all day!” You whispered, making your way through the halls to the bathroom.

“I’m fine-“

“Bullshit.” You said, pushing into the small bathroom. You gently rested Buggy onto the edge of the tub, turning on the water. “You have been weird all day! And not the good kind!” you insisted, testing the temperature.

“I have-“ God, could Buggy complete one sentence around you. He cut himself off as he saw you begin to take your tank top over your head. “Wha-what are you doing?!” Buggy exclaimed, unable to suppress the red rush of heat coming into his face.

You tossed the shirt to the side, unbuttoning your shorts, “Getting ready for a bath?” you giggled, pulling the shorts down your legs. Buggy unabashedly eyed your body, now only covered by a small, tie string bikini. He watched as you bent over to grab the shorts off where it had caught on your foot, the way you were reaching down squeezing your breasts together in such a way that made Buggy somewhat glad that his body was miles away. “I’ll keep the bikini on, so you don’t have to leave,” you said, suddenly bashful as you wrapped your arms around your middle.

“Well, don’t feel like you have to on my account.” Buggy muttered, to which you narrowed your eyes and walked over to the tub.

“Feeling better, Buggy?” you teased, stepping into the bath, lowering yourself into the warm water with a sigh.

“Might feel even better without that bikini in the way.” He chuckled.

You smiled and rolled your eyes, turning off the water as the bath was full. Buggy watched you as you dunked your head back and under the water, and he couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy at your complete lack of fear in the sloshing liquid. ‘Fucking Shanks.’

When you rose back out of the water, you brushed your hair out of your face and rubbed the water out of your eyes. “Would you like me to wash your hair? Maybe get that makeup off your face? Little refresh?” you said, squeezing water out of your hair.

Buggy eyes the water cautiously, “I don’t know, Doll face. You know how water and devil fruits don’t mix.”

Your eyes softened as you reached up, moving some hair from his face that had fallen in all the excitement. “I’ll keep you safe.” You whispered, gently caressing his face.

Buggy swallowed dryly, but nodded, “You let me drown and I’ll bite you.” He said as you grinned.

“Deal!” you said, reaching over the edge of the tub to find a wide, smooth plank of wood, placing it across the tub in front of you. You grabbed Buggy and put him onto the plank, gauging his reaction, “Is this okay? I thought it might be better than just putting you into the water.” Buggy nodded, again feeling lost for words at your thoughtfulness. “Okay, great! Do you mind if I take off your bandana now?” you asked, fingers brushing over the fabric.

“Kinda hard to wash my hair with it on, eh Doll?”

“I just…don’t want to do anything without your permission, Buggy. It must be so…disarming to be just a head, I mean, the boys are always man handling you without asking, so…I want to always make sure I don’t do that.” You explained, studying his face.

“God dammit.” Buggy hissed, “That’s my problem, Doll!” he exclaimed.

You furrowed your brow, setting your hands back in your lap under the water. “What?”

Buggy huffed, overwhelmed and trying to find the words, “You-you’re just so…Why do you-what did I. Ugh! Why are you so nice to me?!” Buggy finally spat out. Your expression softened again as you reached back up, holding his face with one of your hands. “You’re so-so nice, and pretty, and you laugh at my jokes, even if they suck-and you-you think of everything all the time! Like the bendy straw and just this stupid wood thing! You knew I was afraid of water so you-you made sure to get this so you could still help me! I just don-“ God, one sentence.

You cut Buggy off by picking him up, still chattering away and bringing your lips to his own, a soft, quick peck, but it was enough. You drew him back just a bit, enough for him to tell you to fuck off if he so pleased, but he didn’t.

“Oh.” Buggy huffed, locking his eyes on yours. “I didn’t think you’d…” Buggy trailed off as you drew him back into another embrace, your lips pressing against his in a gentle pressure that he returned, his lips moving hesitantly against yours. You moved in synch as your fingers nimbly moved Buggy’s bandana off, seeking his hair between your fingers. Just as Buggy was thinking about venturing further, his tongue just about to flick across yours, you pulled him back, pure adoration in your gaze.

“I like you, Buggy. A lot.” You said, “I thought you were funny and pretty when I first saw you but…getting to know you while I’ve been on ‘Clown Watch’.” You giggled at the name, resting Buggy back onto the plank of wood, “I’ve come to like you as a person. You make me…feel safe. You make me laugh, you’re one of the most quick-witted people I’ve ever met, and well-I just…I think about you all the time. I think about how you’re doing,” you continued, picking up a cup and laying Buggy back, wetting his hair, “I think about what kind of things you like. I think about if you…really even like me at all or if you just put up with me.” You trailed off, grabbing the bottle of shampoo from next to you. You kept your gaze on his hair as you knelt up to reach his scalp, the smell of passionfruit and something floral invading his senses.

Buggy was perplexed, you of all people thought Buggy might not like being around you. You’re wonderful! “Why the fuck would you think that?” Buggy exclaimed, startling you a bit.

“I don’t know…people don’t really…like me like that.” You muttered, a sad look on your face. “I’m never the prettiest or the smartest or the funniest in a group. There’s just always someone better. Like Nami. She’s gorgeous, and I’m-I’m pretty normal.” You continued massaging the aromatic soap into his scalp, your nails gently scratching the skin occasionally.

“I think that’s bullshit.” Buggy muttered, his eyes scanning your face as you still refused to look at him. “I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I love just listening to you talk, and you’re the nicest person I’ve met. You’re pretty flashy if you ask me.” He said resolutely, closing his eyes, like that would make you incapable of arguing with him.

“Are you just being nice?” you asked after a while, running the cup of water over his hair, gently coaxing out the suds.

Buggy’s eyes snapped open at that,“Look at me.” You still only kept your eyes on your work, He whispered your name, not some Doll or some other nickname, your government name, causing your eyes to snap to his, wide with fear, “I like you too. More than you know. You’re the best thing to happen to me in a long time, and it’s only been a few days. I-I’m dreading finding Arlong and that tangerine girl, cause that means…I probably won’t see you again.” He confessed, eyes searching yours.

Your eyes welled up a bit as you poured conditioner into your hand, running it through the lengths of his hair, the same passion fruit scent wafting over him. “I know. I-I try not to think about it.” You whispered, grabbing the cup and rinsing the slick soap from his ends.

“You could come with me.” Buggy muttered, it was so quiet you could have mistaken it for the wind.

You smiled softly, setting Buggy back up on his neck, squeezing his long hair out, “I wish I could. Really. I do.” You said, your eyes pricking with tears, threatening to fall.

“Why can’t you?”

“I made a promise. A vow. To Luffy. I can’t leave him until I…find something.” You grabbed a soft rag from your pile of stuff and sat back properly, soaking the fabric.

“What do you need to find?” Surely you could find it with Buggy.

Your eyes darkened a bit as you brought the rag up to Buggy’s face, gently running it along his skin. “It’s hard to explain, I don’t think you’d understand.”

“Try me.” You set your jaw and seemed to search Buggy’s face, analyzing every little movement and twitch.

“I’m looking for my father’s Devil Fruit.” You whispered, running the rag over Buggy’s forehead.

Buggy’s brows pinched together, “Why the fuck would you want that?” he asked, you didn’t even pause your motions, still slowly cutting through Buggy’s makeup.

“I need to eat it so I can carry on his line. I’m his only child, and that fruit has been passed down in our family since Devil Fruits first came around. When he died,” you started, ignoring Buggy’s bewildered expression, “Marines raided his funeral. His funeral, Buggy! In my family, the funeral also is the ceremony where the next in line eats the fruit. Just as I was about to take it, the Marines came and…and killed the rest of my family. They killed my mother. When they escaped, I chased them down the dock and stole someone’s boat. I had no chance of finding them, but I tried. Luffy found me stranded in the middle of the East Blue on that little boat, no provisions or anything, in my torn up ceremonial gown, sun burnt to hell and back. He brought me on without question and helped me get better. When I was better and I told him what happened, he promised to help me find it. I promised to stay with his crew and help him until we do, then I’d go on my own way, find my own path.”

“Do you know which Marines have it?”

“No, but we heard it was relocated to Loguetown.” You said, wiping one final stripe against Buggy’s skin. “We’re going there next after we find Nami. It’s on the way to the Grand Line anyways.”

“Which fruit is it?” Buggy asked as you set the rag down, going back to grab the shampoo for yourself.

As you spoke you ran the soap through your hair, “It’s not very well known, since we’ve kept it safe all these years. So, you might not know it. It’s called the Kaku Kaku no Mi. The paint paint fruit. It makes it so whatever you paint manifests in real life. I paint a cat, a cat appears. I paint a ship, a ship appears. It works best with inanimate objects but can create golem like living things. It could be used in many corrupt ways, so we’ve kept it in the family and have worked for generations to keep it from the government. And I go and mess it all up in one little raid. I should have been able to fight them back. Protect the fruit. But I didn’t.” you said resolutely, dunking your head under the water, just enough to submerge your hair.

“You couldn’t have fought off a whole marine raid on your own, Doll.” Buggy muttered.

“I should have done something.” You said.

You spent the rest of the bath in relative silence, Buggy making a few quips to try and break the tension, unsuccessfully. When you finished, you pulled the plug and rose out of the water, pulling your towel around your body before reaching down to grab another towel you had brought to wrap around Buggy’s now clean head. ‘You even brought me my own towel? What the fu-‘

“I’ll keep your face hidden so the boys don’t see you without your makeup.” You muttered, everything you needed gathered in your arms. You sighed as you held Buggy against your torso, making sure his towel was securely hiding his face. “I know it’s hard not having it on. I can redo it before night watch,”

Buggy rested his head against you fully, “You’re too damned nice, Doll.” He whispered, watching the light change over and over again as you walked through the halls of the ship.

“Maybe your expectations are just too low, Buggy.” You whispered back, pushing your door open. When in your room, you rested Buggy on your dresser, his hair still dripping onto the towel below him. You put the rest of the stuff you held down onto the ground, turning back to Buggy with a small smile, “I’m gonna turn you around so I can change, okay, Bugs?” you muttered, stroking his cheek.

Buggy swallowed the lump in his throat, “Whatever you need, Beautiful.” He whispered, sighing as you gently turned Buggy’s face to the wall.

“I’ll try to be quick,” you muttered, the sound of you untying your swimsuit filling Buggy’s ears. “Incoming!” you exclaim with a giggle, and Buggy felt the wet slap of your bikini top hitting the back of his head.

Buggy sputtered out a laugh, “What was that for?”

You continued giggling and Buggy heard your feet patter up close behind him, the warmth of your body beating against his neck, “I was aiming for my laundry hamper. I missed.” You said, grabbing the top off of his head. “Sorry, Bugs.”

“Gimme a peek and all is forgiven, Doll face.” He snickered.

“Keep asking like that and I might,” you purred, suddenly right next to his ear, a gentle nip at one of his piercings.

Buggy felt his whole face light up immediately, “You’re killing me, Doll.” He whined. “I don’t even have hands right now.”

“I know…but you know what?” you said, still right behind the clown’s ear, “I wonder what you’d do if you did.” With that you shoved yourself away, the rustle of fabric harmonizing with your laughter.

Buggy called out your name, “You can’t just talk like that, Starlight.”

You grabbed Buggy and flipped him around on the dresser, facing you, fully dressed, “You want me to stop?” you asked, bottom lip between your teeth, inches away from his face.

“Never,” Buggy whispered. You grinned, leaning in and pressing your lips to his. The kiss was small and quick, but you pulled away with a smile. “Come on, pretty girl,”

“What?”

“You should rest up before your night watch.” He muttered, tilting his head toward your bed. “Don’t want you falling asleep on duty.” Buggy teased, smiling as you ran your fingers through his damp hair.

“On two conditions.” You giggle, drying his hair with his towel.

“Shoot.”

“One, you nap with me.”

“Done.”

“Two,” You start to laugh again, “you let me braid your hair when we wake up.”

Buggy furrowed his brow, incredulous, “You wanna do what?”

“Yeah! When we wake up, I’ll braid your hair and redo your makeup!” you explained, picking Buggy up and walking toward your bed. When you settled under the covers, you rested Buggy on your chest, still facing you. “Please?” Buggy squinted at you, unsure. “I’ll let you pick what we do during night watch!” you sing songed, nudging your nose against Buggy’s.

“Watch the nose,” he started, “But…deal.”

“I like your nose.” You whispered, a gleam in your eye.

“Bullshit.”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Yeah-huh!”

“I think it’s pretty. Just like the rest of you.” You ran your fingers over Buggy’s face, his soft lashes brushing against your fingertips. “You know, the first time I saw you, I know you were trying to hurt us, but…all I could think about was how-“

“Ugly I am?”

“Beautiful you are.” You and Buggy answered at the same time.

“You hit your head, Doll face?” he huffed. “Cause no one thinks this mug is beautiful. My own mother didn’t think this face was worth keeping around.”

You frowned, “You talk so poorly about yourself. I happen to think you’re the most beautiful, wonderful, flashy,” you add with a grin, “man I’ve ever met.”

Buggy opened his mouth to protest again, only for you to grab his face again and shift onto your side, resting his head against your pillow in front of your face.

“Sleep, Buggy.” With that, Buggy sighed and let his eyes droop closed, lulled to sleep by your steady breathing.

“You’re gonna poke my eye out, babe.” Buggy muttered.

You laughed, easing the pressure of the brush against his face, “I just really want to match it.” You said, holding up the wanted poster in your hand.

Resuming your ministrations, applying Buggy’s crossbones, Buggy couldn’t help but ask, “Why do you have that, anyway?”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, “I saw it in this girl named Kaya’s village. I try to keep up with bounties, see if I have one yet, you know? When I was looking through them, I saw yours, nice bounty by the way, and I don’t know. I wanted to keep it. In honor of the first pirate that I ran into with Luffy, you know?” you eyed the paints at your side as you mutter, “It helped that you look kinda hot in your poster.” You said with a grin.

Buggy snorted a laugh, “You’d look great on a wanted poster, Doll.” He sighed under the cool feeling of the paints running across his skin, “Why don’t you have a bounty yet?”

“I haven’t been caught,” you chuckled. “I’ve had my fair share of hijinks and blown up Marine ships…” you trail off with a mischievous lilt to your voice. “They just don’t know it’s me. They’ll know after Loguetown, though. They might even know after we leave Arlong Park. One of the crew members that helped defeat one of the most prolific captains in the East Blue.” You said with a chuckle.

“Oh yeah, that’d get you a good one.” Buggy smirked.

You paused, gently resting your hands in your lap. “When you get your body back…” you trail off, finding your words. “Will you help us with Arlong or are you gonna go as soon as you can?” you asked, resuming your painting with a sigh.

“I don’t-“

“You can go.” You muttered, “You don’t have to help us, you know? You don’t owe us anything, and I know the boys aren’t exactly your favorite people. We can take care of ourselves. It’s okay.” Buggy’s brows pinched together, just as his mouth opened to respond, you rested your finger on his lips with a smile, “Seriously. It’s okay.”

As you turned to get more paint on your brush Buggy spoke, “Please come with me, Doll.”

Your motions stuttered, “You know I can’t, Buggy.” You whispered, adding the finishing touches.

“I don’t want to just go about my life like you don’t exist.”

You bit your lips, grabbing Buggy’s head and holding him to your eye level, “…wait for me?”

“Huh?”

“I’ll go with you, after I find my father’s fruit in Loguetown. Find me after, and I’ll go with you. I’ll follow you to the ends of the sea, all across the Grand Line, just…wait for me.”

“How would I know you found it?” he asked.

Your face broke out into a sly grin, “Keep an eye out for my bounty poster. You’ll know I found it when I’m smiling in my picture, smiling because I’ll know that I’m that much closer to being back with you.”

Buggy nodded, setting his jaw, “I’ll see what I can do, Doll.” He agreed, “But just know,” you cocked a brow, “I’m not a patient man.”

Your smile broke out wide across your face, giving Buggy a quick peck on the lips before setting him down in your lap, facing away from you, “Now let me braid your hair. I’m thinking two Dutch braids.”

When you finished your braiding, Buggy was two minutes from falling into a deep sleep, his eyes bleary and drooping closed. He only roused from his relaxation when you started tying his bandana back onto his head.

“Your hair is so nice, Bugs.” You muttered, running your hands along your handiwork. “The color is to die for.” You said, picking him up and putting him onto the crate next to you. You stood and gathered all of your belongings off of the floor, putting them away where they belong.

“You’re one to talk,” Buggy chuckled, “you’re probably the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

You eyed Buggy over your shoulder, “You mean that?”

“Of course, Doll.” You felt yourself flush as you turned away and grabbed the book you and Buggy had been reading together, shoving it into your back pocket, before coming over to him and picking him up and making your way to the deck, heading to the crow’s nest. The setting sun painted the ship in pinks, oranges, and purples.

“Hey! Clown Lady!” you whipped around to where the voice came from, seeing Zoro in all his moody glory, striding toward you two.

“She has a name, moss head!” Buggy growled.

Zoro snarled, “Wasn’t talking to you, clown.”

You frowned, “He’s still a person, Zoro. Don’t be a dick.”

Zoro looked at you, bewildered, “I’m not touching that can of worms.” He muttered. “I need the clown. Sniper boy’s lost again.” He explained, reaching his hand out to take Buggy out of your arms, aiming for his bandana.

You frowned and turned your body away from Zoro’s grasp, beginning to walk to where Usopp sat at the helm, “I can take him, thanks.” Zoro blinked a few times, trying to process what just happened before shaking his head and following you.

“Hi, Usopp! Heard you needed Buggy’s help?” you said, resting Buggy against the railing next to the wheel.

“You need to be two clicks more to the East, now, let’s go, Doll face.” Buggy exclaimed, hoping to get back to your precious solitude for the last couple days you two had left.

“Woah, hold on!” Usopp called out, trying to adjust the steering accordingly, “How far out are we?”

“Should be the day after tomorrow.” Buggy muttered, “Can I go now? We were having fun, Pinocchio.” He said nodding toward you.

“Be nice.” You hissed, flicking Buggy’s ear.

He laughed with a wince, “I am nice.”

“I-I guess that’s all I need then.” Usopp said, trailing off, “You’ve never been so…succinct.”

Buggy rolled his eyes and nudged your arm, “Let’s go, I wanna read the next chapter.”

You chuckled and agreed, “We’ll be in the crow’s nest if you need us.” You trailed off as you pattered over to the mast.

“How are you gonna tell Luffy?” Usopp muttered.

Zoro frowned, “What?”

“She’s not staying. Not long at least.”

“What are you talking about?” Zoro’s eyes narrowed, his hand reflexively trying to rest on the hilts of his swords.

Usopp sighed, letting out a quiet chuckle, “They’re in love.” He said resolutely, “She won’t stay away from him long. She’ll go with him soon.”

Zoro grit his teeth as he thought about telling his captain that you would leave. “Maybe it’s not my place. Maybe she should tell him.”

“Maybe.”

“As the battle came to a close, the princess found herself heaving for breath, dragging her battered, armored body across corpses of men better than she, trying to find her beloved knight. Her eyes stung with tears as she called out to him-“ Buggy wasn’t listening. Well, he was, but not very closely. He was more focused on your face, watching as your eyes glimmered in the moonlight, as your face mimicked the mood of the passage you read. “-she screamed up to the heavens as she held her love in her arms, begging any god who’d listen to wake him. She was inconsolable when a figure approached her-“ Buggy’s eyes roamed over you further, taking in your smooth skin, lit up by the lantern you’d brought up with you to read. Buggy’s gaze traveled over the hills and valleys of your form, your soft lips, your nimble hands, every curve and edge he could soak in. His attention lingered around your plush legs, his mouth going a bit dry. You really were beautiful.

“What do you want to do when you find it?” Buggy’s voice shocked even him; he hadn’t thought about saying anything. You stopped your reading, eyeing the clown with furrowed brows. “I mean-like what do you wanna do with your life?”

You pursed your lips and sighed, “I’m getting asked about this a lot lately.” Nevertheless, you slid a bookmark into the book in your hand and set it aside, instead taking Buggy into your grasp, setting him against your raised knees. “It’s stupid.” You warned.

Buggy rolled his eyes with a smirk, “Try me.”

You wouldn’t meet his eyes, instead opting to look at your lantern, “I kinda…I want to,” you trailed off, heat rising to your face. Buggy just nodded in encouragement, “I want to perform.” You finally spat out, squinting your eyes closed. “I’m sure it sounds silly to you, Mister Ringleader. But I want to be a performer.”

Buggy’s brain practically short circuited, could you be more perfect? “Why would I think that’s ‘silly’?”

You shrugged, “I know it’s not just as easy as wanting to do it, I guess. I know it’s a lot of work. It must sound ridiculous hearing someone talk about doing it with no experience.” You explained, nervously fiddling with one of Buggy’s braids.

Buggy chuckled a bit, “No, Doll.” He started, glad to meet your big, beautiful eyes again, “I think it’s really cool that you want to be a performer. It’s…nice.” You gave Buggy a little smile, “What kind of act do you want to do?”

You giggled and shrugged again, “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeves, but I don’t know what people would actually want to see”

“Lay it on me.”

“Huh?”

“Tell me whatcha got.”

Your face practically burned as you spoke, “Well, I learned how to fire breathe, I love acrobatics, I mean, that trapeze stuff is so fun,” you gushed, making Buggy’s heart warm, “I do a bit of dance, and I’m not a bad sword swallower, but I really like dagger throwing.”

“Yeah?” Buggy encouraged, “You sound like a little jack of all trades, don’t ya?”

You shrugged, “I had a weird upbringing. Traveled with my dad and ran into all sorts of people. I probably wouldn’t have learned half of it if it weren’t for these friends I had though.”

Buggy’s heart skipped a beat, “Who’s that?”

You beamed, “When I was fifteen, these two boys docked with their pirate crew on my island. I met them as soon as they touched ground, one of em was a right little shit and pissed me off. Tried flirting me up, so I clocked him.” You dissolved into giggles at the memory.

‘Fucking Shanks.’ Buggy thought.

“He tried fighting back, but I knocked him out cold!” Buggy smiled at the memory, “His buddy came up and tried to mediate the situation, I was so mad, I was ready to keep beating up his unconscious buddy. I only stopped and calmed down cause I thought he was cute, all worried and trying to fix things,” you giggled, making Buggy’s eyes widen. “He was awkward as all get-out, but he convinced me to chill. We sat around and talked while we waited for his buddy to wake up. When he did, we all agreed to hang out while they were there, I’d be their little tour guide and we’d have a ball together. It was so nice. They’re the ones who introduced me to performing at all.” You continued, still fiddling with Buggy’s braid, “The cute one taught me how to throw knives. He was so damned good at it too! I kept practicing all these years later in hopes that if I see him again, maybe I’d beat him in this little game we came up with. It’s basically darts but with knives.”

Buggy felt himself looking at you like you hung the moon, “We’ll have to play sometime.” He muttered. ‘Should I tell her?’

You nodded and smiled, “You’d be good at it.”

‘Yeah, I came up with it.’

“Why aren’t you performing now?” Buggy asked.

You rolled your eyes, “What’s with the third degree, Buggy?” you teased.

Buggy stuck his tongue out at you, “I distinctly remember you telling me I could pick what we do up here,” the clown mocked you.

“Didn’t think you’d pick interrogating me.” You teased. “Thought you ‘d pick something a bit more…fun.” You purred, stroking Buggy’s cheek.

Buggy swallowed dryly, “That can be…arranged.” He said simply.

You bit your lip and drew Buggy in close, drawing him in for a deep kiss. Buggy’s eyes fluttered shut as you angled your lips against his, a breathy moan coming from your throat. Buggy ran his tongue against your bottom lip, and you opened your mouth happily, meeting his tongue with yours. You pulled away just enough that you could kiss along his jaw, biting just under his ear.

Buggy hissed quietly, “Whatcha want, pretty boy?” he heard your voice in his ear, felt your teeth on his earrings.

Buggy huffed, “Want my damned body back, Doll.”

You giggled, drawing him back in for another kiss, “And in the meantime?” you mumbled against his lips.

Buggy groaned lowly, nipping at you, “Wanna make you feel good, Doll Face.”

You smiled against him, “How do you want me?” you lilted.

“Naked, preferably.” He chuckled. You threw your head back with a laugh, letting Buggy have his way with your neck for a moment. You moaned out as he found that one little spot before taking him off of you, resting him onto the floor of the crow’s nest. You eyed Buggy carefully, biting your lip before raising your tank top over your head, a new bikini covering your chest. Buggy drank you in, eyes tracking every movement and breath. He watched as you rose to your feet, unbuttoning your shorts, dragging them over your legs. When they were off, you settled back onto your knees in front of him, eyes not leaving his as you reached behind you, untying your bikini top with a simple pull of a string at your back and neck. You held the fabric to your chest for a moment after the ties came loose, a nervous look on your face, “C’mon, beautiful.” Buggy groaned, “Lemme see all of you.” You averted your eyes again as you let the top fall from your grasp and Buggy had to hold back an unabashed moan as he took in your form. You sat high on your knees, reaching a hand on either side of your bikini bottoms, ready to untie those as well. Buggy actively felt his breath be stolen as you slipped the fabric off of you, the lantern’s light flickering over your bare body made you look positively heavenly.

You took Buggy in your hands, slipping his bandana from his head, “Mind if I undo your hair?” you ask quietly. Buggy nodded, “Wanna run my fingers through it.” You whispered, setting Buggy back down between your legs, facing away from you. Buggy felt the heat of your body all around him as you gently raked your fingers through his blue locks, a slight wave from the braid making you smile, “You’re so pretty, Buggy.” You mutter, “Bet you’re pretty all over.” Buggy felt his whole body tense, miles away. You’d be the death of him.

When you finished unraveling his hair, you grabbed him again, taking him to eye level before drawing him in for a chaste kiss, “How do you want me?” you asked again, laying kisses against Buggy’s lips all throughout him speaking.

“Want-mm-want you on-dammit Doll-put-just put me-“ Buggy let out a low groan, “Lay me down and get on top, beautiful.” He muttered, finally catching his breath. You flushed, but complied, resting Buggy down onto the wooded ground, hovering above him on your knees. Buggy’s mouth watered a bit at the sight of your glistening core above him. You looked at the clown’s head between your legs and hummed, reaching a hand down to run your fingers through the soft hair on his head, “Sit.” Buggy groaned.

Your eyes shot wide, “Huh?”

Buggy rolled his eyes, “Sit down.” He said like it was obvious.

You scanned his face for any signs of not wanting this, “Are you sure?”

“Sweetheart, sit down on my damned face before I start trying to jump.” He droned, not even batting an eye.

You sighed, covering your warm face with your free hand, but lowered yourself down onto Buggy’s eager mouth. He got right to work, tongue reaching up to your clit, a sharp gasp coming from your lips, your grip on his hair tightening. Buggy just smiled and continued, lapping away at your core above him, the taste of you making him moan into you. Buggy felt your hips buck forwards a bit, a stifled groan ripping out of you as your clit bumped his nose. Buggy shuffled slightly, moving to where you could run your clit against it every time you moved, quickly pushing his tongue into you, feeling like heaven for you as you moved your hand so you could bite your knuckle.

“God, Buggy.” You whined. Buggy hummed into you, the vibrations making you moan into your hand, “Keep going.” You didn’t have to tell Buggy twice. Frankly, Buggy would be fine to stay down there for as long as you’d let him. He’d stay, clenched between your thighs for hours, he’d die down there, suffocated by you, and he would probably say thank you. He drank in your moans as he ran his tongue along your slick walls, trying to dedicate the sound to memory.

Buggy had an idea. A silly, possibly weird idea. He detached his tongue, diving even deeper into you, a muffled cry of ecstasy above him as he searched around. You whimpered as he found it, and Buggy began simply bullying your g-spot, poking, prodding, licking it like it was his job. You rolled your hips against his face, huffing and puffing above him. “So close, baby.” You muttered, “Kee-keep going, Buggy.” Buggy was a very attentive listener when he wanted to be.

Buggy kept up the pace, craning his neck up a bit to bump against your bundle of nerves on his nose, matching your rocking motions, drawing moan after moan out of you. When he felt your nails dig into his scalp, Buggy grinned, picking up the pace a bit, relishing in your whines.

Suddenly, Buggy felt your thighs clamp around his head, your walls fluttering around his tongue, a delicious gush of your arousal dripping into his mouth. Buggy kept up his ministrations through your orgasm, letting you ride it out. When it subsided, Buggy didn’t let up, trying to draw out another from you.

You whined at the overstimulation, but still rolled your hips over his face, your whole lower body twitching with anticipation. The second orgasm hit you like a truck, and you had to slap your hand over your mouth to silence an absolute scream from ripping out of your throat. Still Buggy didn’t stop, trying for a new record or something, you were sure, his tongue swirling inside you, sending jolts straight to your clit that rubbed deliciously against his round nose with every movement, as soon as your second orgasm subsided, a third sent you reeling, tears falling from your eyes, grip impossibly tight on Buggy’s hair as a silent sob racked through you.

As you came down from your high, you had to rip Buggy’s head away from you, toppling over onto all fours over him. He just grinned, his tongue still detached, soaking in your fucked out expression, mixing up the pattern of his abuse inside you. You whined and rolled onto your side, hands diving between your legs. To try and take it out? To help for number four? You didn’t even know, practically fucked dumb as you clamped your thighs together, your eyes meeting Buggy’s as tears still streamed down your cheeks, you grabbed the clown’s head and drew him into a sloppy kiss, maybe to distract yourself from the overwhelming sensation, his lips eagerly meeting yours as you rapidly drew circles over your clit, drawing out one more, ‘Just one more’, you promised yourself.

You shook as you came, ripping your lips from Buggy’s and throwing your head back, “Please, Buggy.” You begged, reaching another hand down to try and reach into yourself. Buggy gave you a shit eating grin as he watched you practically fuck yourself trying to grab out his elusive tongue. You writhed as you rolled onto your stomach, face down, ass up as you kept reaching two fingers deep inside of you, your arousal dripping all over the floor under you. You whimpered and moaned, number five making you rake your free hand over the wooden floor, “God, Buggy!” you moaned out, “Too much!” your knees spread out under you, a pretty presentation for the clown who watched the whole display, desperately hard wherever his body was.

You ground your hips into your hand as you reached your second hand back down, desperately running your fingers over your clit, your cheek pressing into the ground under you. Buggy watched your frantic movements, the way your tits rocked back and forth with you and God, if he could fall even deeper for you, he did right then. “Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!” you whimpered, collapsing as you writhed and practically humped your own hands, fingers still searching for Buggy’s tongue deep inside you. “Buggy.” You moaned out, “one more, then you get out of me.” You whined, frantically circling your hips, your movements jolty as you fucked yourself deeper.

Buggy chuckled at your predicament, in love with watching you unravel for him.

“I mean it.” You hissed, flipping yourself to sit up for Buggy, leaning against the wall of the crow’s nest, a pool of your sweat and arousal forming under you. You looked deep in Buggy’s eyes as you shoved a third finger in, knuckle deep. You moaned pornographically, trying to be quiet, and bucked up your hips again.

Buggy moaned as he watched you reach the hand that was just on your clit up and grasp at your breast, squeezing it and rolling the nipple between your fingers, your eyes fluttering shut. You picked up the pace as Buggy started to somehow find it in him to run his tongue along your walls harder, faster. Biting your lip as your eyes rolled back in your head, your whole body shaking with the force of your orgasm, you gasped out as you squirted out onto the floor, a hopeless sob leaving you as you took your hand out of you, letting both of them rest next to you.

Then and only then did Buggy let his tongue slither out of you, licking a long stripe up your vulva, circling your clit a final time, making you twitch and groan, before opening his mouth and letting it reconnect.

“How’d I do, Doll Face?” Buggy huffed, ears roaring with his rushing blood.

You simply raised up a middle finger at him, a soft chuckle falling from your bruised and swollen lips. Buggy grinned as you picked him back up, laying a peck on his lips, “Holy shit, Buggy.” You huffed. “What the fuck else can you do?”

You ran your fingers gently through Buggy’s hair in your room, humming a little tune. You settled deeper under your covers, eyes drooping with the sway of the waves, settling Buggy more securely against you, the back of his head resting against your breasts comfortably.

“Gave myself the blue balls of a lifetime.” Buggy grumbled, making you bark out a laugh. “Seriously.” He whined.

You shook your head and flicked his ear, “You picked what we did.” You chimed.

“I know. It’s my own fault, but I couldn’t help it. Having you ready and willing all sexy and worked up? Couldn’t resist.” He sighed, “And now I’m suffering because of it.”

You giggled and stroked Buggy’s cheeks with your hands, “Just means I owe you one-“

“-or six.”

“-when you get your body back.” You purred, “Think you can wait that long, Buggy?”

Buggy’s face flushed with heat as he stammered, “Fucking hell, Doll! You’re making it worse!” You just grinned, “I swear, next time I see you, I’m showing you everything I can do when I’m not just a head.” He hissed.

“Looking forward to it, Bugs.”

“At this rate, I’m gonna have to tell Pinocchio to pick up the fuckin pace.” Buggy glowered, yelping as you flicked his ear.

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