#Spotlight: Shockwave

[whatudottu]

Ever since making my human Shockwave design, both my original one and this one, I've been thinking of what arm he would have because even if you have access to a cannon arm as a human it's logical to have a functional arm prosthetic maybe idk-

An extra ever since after reading @nukeli 's SG Shockwave fic I've also been thinking of human Shockwave having a donor arm like what happens in the oneshot, it being mismatched because though demand is high supply is very very low and replacement body parts don't last-

[darkcybertron]

damn bro you got the whole squad distraught and confused

[kryptonitecore]

Re-Read: Spotlight: Shockwave

I remember not being a fan of this book the first time I read it. Having re-read it, I think it falls into the Spotlight: Cliffjumper category, where it just doesn’t get a reaction out of me. It has a close commitment to Shockwave’s perspective, almost the opposite of the Cliffjumper issue in that sense, yet I still think that setting up for future storylines takes precedence here over character exploration - this book helps to set up reappearances for Shockwave, the Dinobots, and the regenesis plot-line.

I do appreciate the Dinobots as a contrast to Shockwave, the element of ‘chaos’ that he realises he needs to account for. Also, another Bludgeon appearance! I forgot how much panel-time he had at this point in canon…

Furman’s take on Shockwave is very clearly different from how the character will be presented later in IDW1, with far more focus on Shockwave’s control over his personality than, for example, More than Meets the Eye and its shadowplay-ed Shockwave had. This might remove some of the potential ambiguity about what the ‘real’ Shockwave is like and strengthens the character in a way, but it also potentially undermines a lot of the pathos of the character. I distinctly remember disliking the direction that Shockwave went in towards the end of IDW1, but I’m interested to see if I respond differently on a new read-through, or whether the writers had what was essentially an impossible task: try and reconcile Furman’s Shockwave with Barbers’ Shockwave and Roberts’ Shockwave.  Overall, though, this book was still not doing much for me at all.

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 29th

Breathplay, Swiss x Reader

Masterlist

Words: 4.2k.

Warnings: Breathplay; choking; Ghoul!Reader; public beginning; semi-public ending; public dry humping; dubcon; listen, I can’t help myself, okay?; they get real fucking awkward someone slap ‘em; finger sucking; fingering; squirting; positive degradation (took me 29 days but we got there in the end); possessive (if you squint); dacrophilia; unprotected sex; piv; vaginal sex; I went feral lmao; spit kink; cock warming;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals @deetz-ghuleh @onlyhereforghost @zombiesnips-blog @saturnhas82moons

Author's Note: Major thanks to @da-rulah for giving me this idea, like legit, this was all her idea. She’s the organ grinder, I’m just the monkey. Inspired by… recent events.

Recommended listening: Hypnosis by Sleep Token.

🔞 MDNI 🔞

It started with Dewdrop.

You danced on your podium stage, the roar of the crowd echoing in your ears as Watcher In The Sky droned on. The blinding spotlight followed your every move as you took your place behind the microphone, a sea of faces stretching out before you. The anticipation in the air was electric, and you could feel the bass thumping through the stage floor, matching the rhythm of your racing heart.

From the corner of your eye, underneath the mask, you saw him charging towards Dew at an alarming rate, his broad shoulders tense and fists clenched. It didn’t register fully until you got a good view of his body, and then you realised it was Swiss. Swiss was usually feral during this song - you’d seen clips of him online afterwards if you’d missed it during the concert. But usually he kept his insanity to his corner of the stage. Not tonight, though. Tonight he was gunning for the source of his anguish - tonight he was racing towards Dewdrop and his guitar that was loudly whining in everyone’s ears.

The first time it happened, it was just a scream. Well, a scream and a bite, but it wasn’t anything more than that. Harmless, really… even though it did set you on edge. There was something equally thrilling yet terrifying about seeing this big, burly man, who was usually the sweetest guy, angrily charge at someone so small in comparison; but also knowing that he had gained the confidence to wander around. You weren’t forbidden to leave your individual stages per se, but Papa did prefer it if you stayed in your place.

This was also amongst all the things he was doing with the other Ghouls - namely with Aurora. The way he got on his knees for her every time Cirice played, every time he pretended to pleasure her, sent shockwave after shockwave through your body. And the night they kissed? You felt the green-eyed-monster make an ugly appearance, and wished that was you.

The next time it happened, things got a little more… heated. His strong hands wrapped themselves around Dew, engulfing his entire hip and front. His large frame dwarfed the Ghoul in comparison and completely hid him from your view. You couldn’t see what Swiss was doing to him, but judging by the repetitive movements his arm and shoulder were doing you could easily come to a general conclusion.

The third night was worse… so. Much. Worse. You watched as Swiss wrapped his large hand around Dew’s neck, gently choking him while imitating jerking himself off. It definitely shouldn’t have done things to you. It definitely shouldn’t have made you think the things you did. It was just two guys playing around on stage… sure their game got a little sexual, but there was no harm done and the crowd certainly enjoyed it. That night though, as he was walking away, he made eye contact with you and caught your mouth agape. That night, he decided he was going to come and hang out with you for a few songs.

The next day, as you were putting your uniform on and painting your face the typical Ghoul style, a knock wrapped at your door. “Come in!” You shouted. Your body froze when Swiss walked through the door.

“Hey, loser.” He teased as he usually did, leaning up against the door frame. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing his gorgeous forearms that were crossed against the broad expanse of his chest - and you weren’t at all staring at the way that position pushed his breasts together to create a tempting amount of cleavage, visible only by the crease of his shirts. The leg he wasn’t resting on had also crossed over his body, and stabled him a little more by the toe of his boots.

You cleared your throat and looked back to the mirror, picking up your black paint box and scooping more up onto your finger. “Hey, loser. Did you not have anything better to do than watch me get ready?”

He tutted. “Now, can’t a guy come and visit his favourite Ghoul before a concert for a little conversation? What if I was Rain, hm?”

“Well, if you were Rain then I’d be much kinder. But you’re you. You want something. Spill.”

He sighed. “Fine,” he raised his hands in defeat, “you got me. How’s about we play a little game on stage tonight?” He walked over to you and stood behind your chair, looking at you in the mirror. His hands rested on your shoulders and gave you a little rub.

“What did you have in mind?”

“I’ll choke you instead of Dew.”

You tried not to react in any incriminating way - this was Swiss you were talking to. If he saw a flicker of anything besides absolute disdain or unbothered attutitudes, he’d rib you for the rest of time. You swallowed, and continued applying your paints. “Why me? The crowd loves that gay shit and what you do to Dew. Hell, they love what you do to Aurora, too.”

“Yes, but,” he leaned down so his mouth was level with your ear, his deep voice dropping low, “you love it, too, don’t you?” You froze. “I’ve caught your face. You’re not as sneaky as you think you are, you know?” He stood back upright. “Unless you actively stop me, I’m going to play with you tonight. Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Silence.

He tapped your shoulder and walked out of your dressing room. “See you tonight!”

You stepped onto the stage that night, the bright lights momentarily blinding you. The roar of the crowd echoed through the arena as the music began.Your thoughts kept drifting to Swiss—and whatever the hell it was that he had planned.

Swiss stood there, his presence commanding and his voice a captivating force. His every move seemed to draw you in, and you found it hard to concentrate on your own performance. The lyrics you were supposed to sing became a blur as you watched him, transfixed by his talent and charisma.

You tried to focus on your harmonies and choreography, but Swiss’s magnetic presence was an irresistible distraction. Every time your eyes met his, a spark of connection passed between you, intensifying the infatuation that had taken hold of your heart.

The familiar darkness of Cirice screamed through your in-ears, and you looked back over to Swiss’ podium but he was missing. Nowhere to be found. Given your conversation earlier, and his habit of going feral during Watcher in the Sky, you assumed he would do something then. It wasn’t until you felt his hands around your neck you realised he had other intentions. His fingers clasped your neck as the intro reached its pace change, the tips of each appendage falling onto your throat seductively, as though he were drumming on a desk and using his thumb as an anchor. You felt his helmet connect with yours and his body press up against your back. The longer he stayed there, hands attached to your throat, the tighter they held, squeezing the sides of your esophogus like an anaconda about to feed. Of course, he didn’t restrict your air flow. Of course, his hands tightened in all the correct places that made you feel lightheaded without damaging your body.

Of course he knew how to do that.

You couldn’t hear anything, or take in what else was going on. Your mind was consumed by his hand, and now something else pressing into your hip you didn’t expect to come out and play. The feeling of your pulse quicken sent shockwaves through Swiss’ body upon the realisation that you enjoyed this. You liked feeling his hand around your throat. You liked how hard he was squeezing. He placed his other hand on your hip and, clearly thinking only with his dick, rutted into you. The first time was an accident, he told himself. The second, third and even fourth time was because you felt so good against him, he couldn’t help himself. It wasn’t until he heard Papa singing the opening lyric, he remembered where he was, and that you both had to stop. So, he pulled away, and rushed back to his own stage.

After the adrenaline of the concert had faded, you found yourself back in your hotel room, still buzzing with the memory of Swiss’s hands haunting your mind, and you swore you could still feel his fingers ghosting your skin. As you tried to unwind, there was a sudden knock on your hotel room door.

Startled, you crossed the room and opened the door to find Swiss standing there, his expression a mix of nervousness and determination. He had sought you out, and it was clear he wanted to talk.

“Hey,” he began, his voice a little uncertain. “I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened tonight. I-”

“Come in.” You said, opening your door wider and allowing him to enter.

“Thank you. I just wanted to apologise for crossing a line tonight.” You closed the door behind him. “I don’t know what happened. I don’t have any excuses. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise, I-”

“I crossed boundaries, I really-”

“I liked it!” The words spilled out of your mouth, revealing a depth of feeling you hadn’t intended to share just yet. Swiss’s surprise was evident, but his expression softened with understanding, and a hint of a smile played at the corners of his lips.

He took a step closer, his eyes searching yours for sincerity. “I… I didn’t realize,” he began, his voice laced with a touch of vulnerability. “Where do we go from here, exactly?”

To hell with it, you thought. The damage had already been done, you might as well just rip off the bandaid and get it over with. “You could do it again.”

“N-now?”

“If you want…”

“No, I want… to.” He swallowed. The man in front of you was now so far from the Swiss you knew. His confidence was… somewhere in the room. But nowhere near him at the present. A tinge of excitement mixed with the nervousness in Swiss’s eyes as he contemplated the idea of doing it again. It was a leap into uncharted territory for both of you, a risky move that could either cement your connection or create an irreparable divide. Yet, the allure of it was too strong to resist. “Can I kiss you?”

Your voice came out breathier than usual - breathier than it ought to be. “Yes.”

Swiss finally closed the gap, his lips touching yours softly at first, not wanting to let loose too quickly and scare you away. He’d already crossed multiple boundaries today, he couldn’t bring himself to cross another. His hands came to your biceps, thumbs rubbing over the clothed skin in a comforting up and down motion. It wasn’t until you’d decided you were ready for something more that he finally let up.

Still in his uniform, you grasped onto his collar and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss and earning a little grunt in response from him. His left hand travelled upwards as your tongue gained access to his mouth, and eventually you felt his bare palm over your neck, thick fingers gently squeezing at the sides. You whimpered into his mouth, the sound so delicious on his tongue and reverberating in his ears, sending blood rushing south. That one sound did things to him he had never imagined. That one sound made him vow that you were going to cum around his cock tonight, with his hand wrapped around your throat.

He broke the kiss to torment you further, as if his actions on stage the last few days hadn’t been enough. As he spoke, his hand remained on your throat, and his voice was barely above a whisper. “You’re enjoying this aren’t you? I can feel your shakes of excitement. Those moans. The light in your eyes.”

“Please.” You said. As he squeezed at the sides, you could feel the restriction but not enough to cut of air supply entirely. Your head felt light and dreamy, eyes hooded with lust, hands grasping onto his forearms tightly to help you steady yourself. You begged, for what you couldn’t say. Maybe it was just force of habit; maybe it was your brain telling you to say it because he liked it; or maybe you wanted him to do unspeakable things to you while his fingers threatened to close your airways. A delirious smile painted on your face as though you were descending into madness the longer he touched you. His hand on your throat wasn’t enough for you. You imagined his other hand between your legs, dipped into your cunt. You wanted his fingers to violate you, roughly penetrate your walls and hit that spot hard over and over until you were screaming out for him.

Regardless, he approved, confirming this with a hum, voice so low it sounded like a tiger’s purr. “Please what? Use your words, tell me what you want.”

“Your hands.”

“My hands, hm? Doing what?”

“Touch me.”

He ghosted his lips over yours. “I am touching you.”

You took his free hand into yours and guided it to your waistband, dipping it below the fabric and hovering above your core, already wet and ready for him. “Here, too.”

“Greedy pup. No, baby. If I’m going to touch you, I’m going to do it properly.” He removed contact from you completely and took a step back. “Undress yourself.” You watched him remove the watch from his wrist, eyes fixated on his hands. “So desperate to have me touch you. Come on, baby. Don’t make me ask you again.”

You nodded dumbly, slowly removing items from your body until you stood bare in front of him. Swiss, in that time, had been removing his own clothes, except he was left only in his underwear. He placed one final kiss against your lips, feather-light and leaving you wanting, but still grateful for the attention. “On the bed, sweet baby. Spread your legs for me.” He instructed.

You followed his orders like a soldier to their commanding officer, eagerly hopping on the bed and exposing yourself to him. Where the confidence came from, you couldn’t say. In a normal situation, you’d be much more modest or tasteful with your movements, hesitant to expose yourself so readily. But there was something about Swiss’ commanding demeanor, his authoritative aura that had the hairs on your body stand on end, electrified in anticipation of what was to come. He had you wrapped around his little finger so quickly, it should have scared you. You weren’t one to easily submit. Yet you watched him climb over your body with hunger in your eyes, and mischief in his. You zealously sucked on his thick, middle fingers when he placed them in your mouth, and shivered when you felt them prod at your sopping entrance.

His digits met no resistance as they breached your walls, tapping the secret button inside that made your mouth fall open in complete pleasure. The squelch of your juices drowned out your little whimpers, and sped up as his tempo became more and more vigorous. Your body shook with the ferocity of his movements, and your fingers clutched onto the bedsheets to divert the energy from your mouth and cope with the overwhelming feeling boiling up inside you. You had to remind yourself of your location, that you were sharing a wall with a colleague and that you couldn’t be too loud; but Swiss simply tutted.

“Am I not making you feel good?”

You had to force air back into your lungs. “You are!”

“Then why can’t I hear you?”

“I-” You didn’t know what to say.

“Let me hear those slutty little moans, baby. Or I’ll stop.”

“No! Don’t stop, please don’t!”

“Then,” as he moved his fingers inside you, his other hand came to your throat, “be loud for me. And play with your clit.”

At the feeling of him restricting your esophagus again, combined with both of your hands working in tandem with each other, you had begun to reach heights you’d never been able to achieve with another person, even yourself. There were times when you were in the throes of touching yourself, when your own hand was desperately working yourself to orgasm, that you’d choke yourself in order to feel the ecstasy you were begging for. But it wasn’t quite the same - it never was. Yet now, your finger was frantically rubbing over yourself as your other hand moved from the bed sheets to clutch around his wrist as it gripped tightly to your neck, deliciously sending you back into that state of delirium.

Swiss knelt in between your legs, allowing your hips to buck wildly. His eyes were fixated on your face, cock hardening at the sight of you. Your eyes were rolling back into your skull, your mouth hanging open as if you were possessed. You were one tongue and a few tears away from a perfect ahegao, but there was still time. He’d make sure of it.

“Swiss!” You called out helplessly from below him, weak, vulnerable, half-crazy with the feelings he was making your body feel. He couldn’t deny just how delicious his name sounded coming from your swollen lips, oozing with need and desperation. Your mind was completely his; your body gifted to him willingly in your need to be choked and dominated. His name was the only thing you’d remember while he had you under his touch - under his fist. “G-gonna cum!”

“Yeah?” His voice was a little higher pitched, condescending. “Is my perfect girl gonna cum all over my fingers, hm?”

“Yes! Yes! Lucifer, yes!”

“No, no, no. Not on my watch, baby girl. Lucifer can’t make you feel this good. Who is?”

“You are!”

“Say my fucking name.”

“Swiss! Fuck! Cum-cumming!”

Vesuvius had nothing on your eruption. He paled in comparison to the earth-shattering explosion that set off inside you, and forced its way out without your knowledge. You poured yourself all over him, bathing him in your sacred water while your throat screamed bloody-murder beneath his hand. Fingernails dug into his skin as your body shook, cunt clenching tightly around him. Your vision, when you were able to think coherently again, was black in the corners from the intensity of your orgasm. As your orgasm subsided, Swiss’ hand pulled out of you and took over from yours, gently rubbing circles into your clit and making your body clench with little pockets of sensitive aftershocks. He wouldn’t stop until you told him to, and those words weren’t falling from your lips so he continued his ministrations, working you into over-sensitivity, gradually picking up the pace until his fingers were ferociously working you up towards a second orgasm; and you, the ever-willing recipient to his torture, accepted those gifts graciously, desperately calling his name as your mind went dumb from the pleasure.

Tears were falling from your eyes this time, and you clenched around nothing when you felt his broad tongue lick them from your face. All the while, his hand never left your throat.

His cock was girthy - average length but thick, and it met no resistance as it slid into you. His thigh hooked under your knee and lifted your leg further up the bed, allowing yourself to open up even more to him, and granting him the ability to bury himself all the way inside you, only stopping when there was nothing more to give. Every single one of your nerve-endings were standing on edge, holding matches to light the third fuse of the evening and preparing to hurt you in all the best ways. Swiss’ hand was on your throat, applying a similar amount of pressure as before while forcing your head in place to keep eye contact with him as he bottomed out. The drag of him against your walls, stretching you, filling you, was exquisite. His eyes, burning hotter than embers bore into your own, creating a depraved yet intimate moment as he geared up to fuck you into the mattress.

“Oh that’s fucking it, baby girl.” He moaned out in pleasure above you, savouring the tightness he’d buried himself inside. He removed the pressure from your neck to allow you some respite, but he kept it there to remind you of his intentions. “Fucking hell. If I’d known your cunt was this good I’d have taken you much sooner.” He began to thrust into you, resting most of his weight onto his other hand. His pubic mound rubbed against your clit, hairs tickling you and providing a small amount of stimulation. “This pussy was Hell-sent just for me, wasn’t it? Shit. So fucking perfect. You open up so well for me. So fucking wet for me, shit!”

He picked up speed. “Fucking ruining me. Why would I fuck another slut when I’ve got you, hm? So willing, and pliant,” he applied pressure again and watched your eyes light up, “and freaky. Oh shit!”

He was speechless for a while, focussing on the sound of your cunt swallowing him over and over again, squelching for him in appreciation of his hard work. He looked down to watch the cream of your pussy gathering around the base of his cock - well, all of it that wasn’t streaming down your folds and gathering on the sheets below you. So fucking tight and wet for him. He’d never been with anyone quite like you. The way your pussy opened up for him, the tears you were crying because of him, your screams of ecstasy. It was almost too much.

“Open up for me, baby girl.” He told you, and once you obliged, a string of his saliva dripped from his mouth into yours. He was laying claim to you wherever he could and groaned deeply when he felt you clench around him, becoming impossibly tighter. “Fucking hell - you loved that didn’t you? My beautiful, dirty whore. Touch yourself for me again.”

Your hand snaked down between your bodies to rub at your clit again, harshly and quickly stroking yourself in desperation of your third orgasm. You could tell that he wasn’t far off himself, erratic thrusts announcing how close he was. All the while, you were mewling beneath him - screaming for him. The drag of his cock against your walls, working alongside the tightness of his hand around your throat intermittently squeezing, was pulling you ever closer to the edge of euphoria. Just a little more and you’d fall - a little more and you’d be free.

“Swiss!” You shouted his name repeatedly, begging him over and over.

“I know, baby. I know. Keep going for me, that’s it. Fucking shit. I’m never gonna stop fucking this pussy. Where can I cum? Please tell me I can cum inside you.”

“Yes! I want it inside me. Give it to me, please!”

“Oh fuck! I couldn’t stop if you said no, baby. Can’t pull out. Too. Fucking. Good.” Each word was punctuated with a particularly hard thrust that sent your body up the bed a little. “You gonna cum, hm? Gonna cum on this goddamn dick?”

“Yes! Fuck, Swiss! You’re gonna make me cum!”

“Do it, baby. Cum for me.”

He tightened his grip one final time, keeping his pace while you kept yours. Your third orgasm was violent in all the best ways. Your vision was the first to go, eyes glazing over and rolling back as drool poured from your open mouth. Your hands cramped where they sat, digging your fingernails into his strong arm while rubbing your clit to completion with the other. Your back arched, your lungs refused to fill with air. Your voice was silent as your body convulsed in pure, unbridled pleasure while your mind swam with delirium from the subtle air restriction.

“There we go, baby girl. That’s it. Fuck - I’m g-gonna cum in this tight fucking cunt. Shit!”

Swiss came next, his seed pouring deep inside of you and painting your walls white. After your third orgasm, he selfishly chased his own, temporarily using you as a toy to tip himself over the edge and meet you in your euphoria.

Your hearts were racing from the adrenaline of the moment you’d just shared. Swiss could hear yours as he collapsed on your chest, his cock softening inside of you. You were both too tired to move, too sensitive to feel the cold. He wrapped your leg over his hip and rolled off you, hands and your leg pulling you with him. As soon as you both made eye contact again, his lips met yours in a desperate and needy kiss. This one, however, wasn’t intended to get you both riled up again ready for a second round, though, the longer your lips were attached and your hands roamed over his body, you could feel him chubbing up inside you. “You’re fucking incredible, you know that?” You whispered. “Thank you.”

Swiss chuckled. “I know, but it’s always nice to be reminded.” Another kiss, but this time your hand gripped onto his hair and pulled a little. “Don’t fucking do that or I’ll have to fuck you harder.”

You tugged again.

“___.” He warned.

You didn’t heed it and pulled one final time.

“Right,” he pulled out of you and flipped you on your stomach, “remember, you asked for this.”

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

[muiitoloko]

11 o'clock girl

Summary: The sheriff notices you and makes you the 11 o'clock girl.

Pairing: Sheriff of Nottingham × Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, questionable consent, degradation.

Author Notes: Hey folks! First off, a big shoutout to all 150 of you wonderful followers! *pops open a bottle of budget-friendly champagne* Now, let me tell you about my recent dive into the cinematic masterpiece that is "Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves." Can we just take a moment to appreciate Alan Rickman's brilliance in that movie? He practically swiped the spotlight from Costner like a pro pickpocket!

So, I decided to scribble down a few thoughts about the character, but fair warning, I might have taken some creative liberties here and there. So, if the Sheriff of Nottingham ends up doing something completely outlandish, just roll with it, okay? Oh, and I should probably mention that I didn't bother proofreading this gem. Hey, blame it on my laziness! But I promise I'll clean up the mess later. Cheers to that! 🥂

As a lowly servant in the castle of Nottingham, you've always known the dangers of catching the Sheriff's eye. His reputation for cruelty and ruthlessness precedes him, and you've seen firsthand the consequences of crossing him. But when the Sheriff notices you, it's not fear that grips your heart—it's a chilling sense of dread mixed with a strange fascination.

At first, it's just a fleeting glance, a passing acknowledgment of your presence as you go about your duties. But soon, those glances turn into lingering stares, his piercing brown eyes boring into your soul with a hunger that sends shivers down your spine.

You try to keep your distance, avoiding him whenever possible and praying that he'll lose interest and move on to someone else. But the Sheriff is relentless, his obsession with you growing with each passing day until it becomes impossible to ignore.

One night, as you're tidying up the Great Hall after a banquet, you feel his presence behind you, his breath hot against your neck as he leans in close. "You have a name, don't you?" he murmurs, his voice sending a chill down your spine.

You nod nervously, unable to speak as fear grips your throat like a vice. But the Sheriff doesn't seem to notice—or perhaps he just doesn't care—as he continues to hover close, his gaze burning into your skin with an intensity that makes you squirm.

"I want you," he said abruptly, his words sending shockwaves of terror through your body. The implication hung heavy in the air, leaving you trembling with fear at the thought of what he might do to you.

But before you could respond, the Sheriff gave you a chilling command. "Come to my quarters at 11," he instructed, his voice dripping with authority. "And don't be late."

You nodded numbly, too terrified to refuse as the Sheriff smiled contentedly to himself before leaving, leaving you shaking in his wake. As you stood alone in the Great Hall, the weight of his words settled over you like a suffocating blanket, filling you with a sense of dread and helplessness.

The thought of what awaited you in the Sheriff's quarters made your stomach churn with nausea, but you knew that disobeying him was not an option. With a heavy heart, you resigned yourself to your fate, knowing that you had no choice but to obey his command.

As the clock struck 11, you found yourself standing outside the Sheriff's quarters, your heart pounding in your chest as you knocked on the door with trembling hands. The seconds stretched into eternity as you waited, the anticipation building with each passing moment until finally, the door swung open, revealing the Sheriff standing before you.

He was dressed only in his pants, his black hair tousled and his brown eyes gleaming with amusement as he greeted you with a sly grin. "Ah, the 11 o'clock girl," he purred, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "Right on time, as always."

You swallowed hard, your mouth dry with fear as you stepped into his quarters, your eyes darting nervously around the room. But before you could utter a word, the Sheriff turned away from you, his attention drawn to the woman lying in his bed.

"Time to go, darling," he said casually, his tone dismissive as he addressed the woman who lay beside him. "You were the 10:45 girl, weren't you? Off you go now, before I lose interest."

The woman scrambled to get dressed, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she hurriedly gathered her belongings and fled the room, leaving you alone with the Sheriff once more. As the door closed behind her, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease wash over you, the realization sinking in that you were not the only one he had summoned tonight.

But as you looked at the Sheriff, his gaze lingering on you with a hunger that sent a chill down your spine, you pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the task at hand. You had been summoned here for a reason, and now it was time to face whatever fate awaited you.

But as the Sheriff approached you with a predatory gleam in his eyes, a wave of doubt washed over you, your mind reeling with questions and uncertainties. Did you truly want this? Did you have any choice in the matter?

As he drew closer, his hands reaching out to touch you, you couldn't help but flinch, your body recoiling instinctively from his touch. But the Sheriff paid no mind to your hesitation, his eyes blazing with desire as he closed the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a rough and possessive kiss.

As the Sheriff pulled you into his embrace, his hands roaming over your trembling form, a shiver of anticipation ran down your spine. Despite your fear and uncertainty, there was something undeniably thrilling about being in the presence of such a powerful and commanding man.

"You're trembling, my dear," the Sheriff remarked, his voice dripping with amusement as he leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear. "Nervous, are we? Or perhaps just excited to finally be in my arms?"

You couldn't help but blush at his words, your cheeks burning with embarrassment as you struggled to maintain your composure. But the Sheriff only chuckled darkly, his hands wandering lower as he pulled you closer, his touch sending sparks of desire coursing through your veins.

"Tell me, darling," he murmured, his voice low and husky as he trailed kisses down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "Do you know why I summoned you here tonight? Or are you content to let me take what I want without a word of protest?"

His words sent a thrill of fear and excitement coursing through you, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to find your voice. But before you could respond, the Sheriff silenced you with a searing kiss, his lips hungry and demanding as he claimed you as his own.

As his hands roamed over your body with a possessive urgency, you surrendered yourself to him completely, your mind clouded with desire as you lost yourself in the heat of the moment. And as the Sheriff guided you towards the bed with a predatory gleam in his eyes, you knew that there was no turning back now.

He paused for a moment, his fingers caressing your thigh with a disturbing mix of possessiveness and curiosity, he posed a question that made your heart race with apprehension.

"Are you a virgin?" he asked, his voice laced with a cruel edge as he studied your reaction.

You swallowed hard, your mouth dry with fear as you stuttered out a nervous "no." The truth was that servants like you were rarely virgins, your station in life leaving you with very few options and even fewer expectations of finding a husband.

The Sheriff nodded, his fingers trailing under your servant's dress, which was little more than a rag draped over your body. "How many men have you been with, then?" he inquired, his tone mocking and derisive.

You lowered your gaze respectfully, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks as you admitted, "Only one, milord. A stable boy here at the castle."

The Sheriff's brow quirked in amusement, a sardonic smile playing on his lips as he considered your response. "Ah, a stable boy," he remarked dryly. "Is he your betrothed, then? Your one true love?"

You shook your head quickly, your voice barely above a whisper as you denied his assumption. "No, milord. We were... merely acquaintances."

The Sheriff chuckled darkly at your response, his fingers continuing to roam over your trembling form as he leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. "Well, my dear, it seems you and I have something in common," he murmured, his voice dripping with malice. "Neither of us is meant for love, only for pleasure."

You shuddered at his words, a chill of dread creeping down your spine as you realized the true nature of your predicament. With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you knew that there was no escape from the Sheriff's clutches—that you were nothing more than a pawn in his twisted game of power and desire.

And as he pressed his lips to yours once more, his touch hungry and possessive, you resigned yourself to your fate, knowing that there was no turning back now.

As the Sheriff of Nottingham stripped away your meager garment, revealing your naked form to him, a predatory grin spread across his lips, his brown eyes gleaming with a cruel hunger. His gaze lingered hungrily on your exposed body, savoring every curve and contour as if he were appraising a prized possession.

"You're beautiful, my dear," he remarked, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he traced a finger along the curve of your hip. "Almost too beautiful to be a mere servant."

You flinched at his touch, feeling a chill of dread wash over you as you realized the true extent of your vulnerability. But before you could protest or beg for mercy, the Sheriff's hands were already moving with purpose, stripping away your last shred of modesty with callous disregard.

As he tossed your underwear aside, leaving you completely exposed before him, you couldn't help but tremble with fear and shame, your heart pounding in your chest as you braced yourself for what was to come.

The Sheriff's smile widened at the sight of your nakedness, his eyes devouring you with an insatiable hunger that made your skin crawl. He wasted no time in making his intentions clear, his movements rough and commanding as he positioned himself between your legs, his erection throbbing with anticipation.

With one hand gripping your thigh possessively, the Sheriff used his other hand to guide his throbbing member towards your entrance, his touch sending shockwaves of pain and pleasure coursing through your body.

"No, please, wait," you pleaded, your voice trembling with desperation as you tried in vain to reason with him. But the Sheriff paid no heed to your protests, his lustful desires driving him forward with relentless determination.

Ignoring your cries, he thrust himself into you with brutal force, causing you to cry out in agony as he stretched you beyond your limits. You were not ready for him, not prepared for the searing pain that tore through your body with each merciless thrust.

But the Sheriff showed no mercy, his movements relentless as he claimed you as his own, his grunts of pleasure mingling with your cries of pain. He was rough and demanding, his hands gripping your hips with bruising force as he pounded into you with a primal intensity.

"Ah, you're so tight," he groaned, his voice thick with lust as he reveled in the sensation of your warmth enveloping him. "That stable boy clearly didn't know what he was doing if he left you like this."

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you struggled to endure the agonizing pleasure, your mind clouded with a dizzying mix of pain and arousal. The Sheriff's thrusts were relentless, each one driving you closer to the edge of oblivion as he claimed you as his own.

And as he pressed your hand against your lower stomach, forcing you to feel the full extent of his penetration with each thrust, you realized with a sickening sense of despair that there was no escape from his clutches—that you were nothing more than a pawn in his twisted game of power and desire.

As the Sheriff continued to thrust into you with a relentless determination, his words became more cutting, his voice dripping with sarcasm and disdain.

"You like this, don't you?" he taunted, his breath hot against your ear as he reveled in your helpless submission. "A filthy little servant like you, enjoying being used like a common whore."

You whimpered at his words, a mixture of shame and arousal coursing through your veins as you struggled to reconcile your conflicting emotions. You knew you shouldn't be enjoying this, shouldn't be responding to his cruel words with such eagerness, but you couldn't help yourself.

With each thrust, the Sheriff seemed to find new ways to demean and degrade you, his words like daggers piercing your already fragile sense of self-worth.

"You're nothing but a plaything to me," he sneered, his tone laced with contempt as he continued to pound into you with a punishing rhythm. "A worthless little whore, good for nothing but spreading your legs and taking whatever I give you."

But instead of recoiling from his words, you found yourself growing more aroused with each insult, your body responding eagerly to his dominating presence. With a newfound sense of confidence, you reached out and grabbed the Sheriff's back, pulling him closer to you as you urged him to intensify his thrusts.

The Sheriff's eyes widened in surprise at your boldness, a dark grin spreading across his lips as he realized the depth of your depravity. "Well, well, it seems our little servant has a bit of a backbone after all," he chuckled, his voice tinged with amusement. "I like that. Let's see how much you can take, shall we?"

With a renewed sense of purpose, you gripped the Sheriff's ass firmly, urging him to thrust into you harder and faster as you surrendered yourself to the pleasure of the moment. Despite the pain and humiliation, there was something undeniably exhilarating about being dominated by such a powerful and commanding man.

And as the Sheriff chuckled darkly at your eagerness, his hands roaming over your trembling form with a possessive urgency, you knew that there was no turning back now—that you were his to command, body and soul. And strangely, in that moment, you wouldn't have it any other way.

As the Sheriff took your hand off his ass and pinned it to the bed above your head, you felt a surge of excitement coursing through your veins. His touch was rough yet electrifying, sending shivers of anticipation racing down your spine as you surrendered yourself to the pleasure of the moment.

Leaning down, the Sheriff pressed his lips to your neck, his kisses leaving a trail of fire in their wake as he trailed down to your collarbone. With effortless strength, he took your other hand and pinned them together above your head, his large hand easily holding them in place against the mattress.

You moaned with pleasure, the sound music to the Sheriff's ears as he reveled in the intoxicating power he held over you. With each thrust, he drove you to new heights of ecstasy, his movements relentless and commanding as he claimed you as his own.

As he kissed down your collarbone, the Sheriff couldn't help but marvel at the scent of soap on your skin, a stark contrast to the other women he had been with. "You smell divine," he murmured, his voice filled with admiration as he praised you for your cleanliness.

But you were lost in pleasure, your eyes closed and face contorted in ecstasy as you surrendered yourself completely to the Sheriff's desires. With each thrust, your back arched and your body writhed beneath him, the sensations overwhelming your senses as you neared the brink of climax.

The Sheriff watched you with a hunger that bordered on obsession, his brown eyes dark with desire as he imagined what it would be like to see you cum on his dick. It was a thought that had never crossed his mind before, the idea of giving pleasure to a woman rather than just taking what he needed.

But as he gazed down at you, lost in pleasure and utterly vulnerable beneath him, the Sheriff felt a strange sense of longing stirring within him. He wanted to see your expression as you reached the peak of ecstasy, to witness the raw, unbridled passion on your face as you surrendered yourself completely to him.

With a newfound sense of determination, the Sheriff quickened his pace, driving you towards the edge of oblivion with each powerful thrust. And as you cried out in ecstasy, your body convulsing beneath him as waves of pleasure washed over you, he knew that he would stop at nothing to make you his own.

For in that moment, as you lay beneath him, utterly vulnerable and completely surrendered to his desires, the Sheriff realized that he would do whatever it took to keep you by his side—to possess you body and soul, now and forever.

[agent-cupcake]

Flashbang

Chapter 6 - Howl

Spotify Playlist / All Chapters / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 /Chapter 7/ Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 pt.1 / Chapter 9 pt.2 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12

Pairing: One Piece Live Action Buggy x f! Reader

Synopsis: A night of several firsts.

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

Word Count: 13.5k

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

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

xxx

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

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

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

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

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

Anything else was unthinkable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Think. 

You had to think. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded, agreeing because you knew you should.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, Cabaji.”

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

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

This was real. All of it. 

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

But that relief never came. 

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

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

And then what? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know, daddy.”  

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

“Yes, daddy.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Murderer.

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

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

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

It was too much. You could not handle it.

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

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

You’ve really stepped in it now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What were you doing?” 

You sniffled. “Nothing, sir.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And everyone else?” you asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Flushing with embarrassment, you sat back onto your knees. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not that funny,” you said.

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

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

Woah. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”  

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

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

You frowned, your eyebrows furrowing. 

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

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

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

“Yes, I do.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Yes, I have.”

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

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

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

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

“What was that?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, your captain asked you a question.” 

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

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

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

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

You frowned, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, it… ‘s not-”

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

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

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

“I… I don’t know if… I shouldn’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” He prompted you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Buggy,” you whined. “Buggy, I…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You groaned, covering your face again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?” he asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

Buggy was already asleep.

[charlosvibesonly]

Racing Hearts - Part 8

A Max Verstappen Imagine

Pairing : Max x fem! reader/driver

End Game

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Thank you to all you guys for loving Racing Hearts. It was so fun writing this. Ciao!

The paddock buzzed with whispers, and the air was thick with tension as the unexpected twist in the investigation sent shockwaves through the racing world. Red Bull, once on the pedestal of triumph, now found themselves on the precipice of scandal.

Article 1 - The Unraveling of Champions:

In a shocking turn of events, Red Bull Racing's triumphant champions, Max Verstappen and Y/N, find themselves ensnared in controversy. The media spotlight has shifted from their on-track victories to an investigation that threatens to tarnish their legacy.

Every move made by the once-celebrated duo is now under a microscope. From their pit lane conversations to their off-track interactions, no detail is too small to escape scrutiny.

Article 2 - Team Unity Tested:

Red Bull Racing, known for its unyielding team spirit, now faces a formidable challenge. The camaraderie in the garage, once a pillar of strength, is strained as doubt casts a shadow over the team.

Whispers of internal discord circulate as team members navigate the pressure. Will the unity that fueled their victories withstand the relentless storm of criticism?

Article 3 - Champions Under Fire:

The champions who once dominated the podium now find themselves defending not just their titles but their very reputation. Max Verstappen and Y/N are in the eye of a media storm that threatens to dismantle the success they worked tirelessly to achieve.

Critics question every decision, every statement, amplifying the strain on the champions who are accustomed to roaring engines, not deafening scrutiny.

Article 4 - Red Bull's Crisis Management:

With the championship-winning team in crisis, Red Bull Racing grapples with the fallout. The pressure to protect its image intensifies as media speculation reaches a fever pitch.

As the team navigates this uncharted territory, the question remains: Can they weather the storm and emerge stronger on the other side, or will the drama prove too much for the once-invincible Red Bull Racing?

Article 5 - Fragile Foundations:

The foundation of Red Bull Racing, built on triumph and unity, now faces its most formidable test. Max Verstappen and Y/N bear the weight of skepticism, their once unassailable reputation now hanging in the balance.

In the midst of this turmoil, the true measure of champions is revealed. Will they crumble under the pressure, or will they rise above, proving that even in the face of doubt, they remain a force to be reckoned with?

Max and you, once celebrated champions, now faced relentless scrutiny and criticism from the media. Every move was dissected, every word analyzed. The team rallied behind you, but the pressure threatened to tear everything apart.

Yet, the drama took an unexpected turn. A new piece of evidence emerged, seemingly casting doubt on Red Bull's innocence. The media frenzy escalated, and the weight of the situation became unbearable. 

The turning point came when an internal audit within Red Bull Racing uncovered irregularities in Max Verstappen's car from a previous race. The investigation revealed a potential breach of technical regulations, raising questions about the legitimacy of Max's victories.

In a surprising twist, the team decided to make this information public before the governing bodies could launch their own investigation. The move was an attempt at transparency, but it inadvertently ignited a media firestorm. Headlines screamed about Max's car possibly being in violation of the rules, casting doubt not only on his recent achievements but the entire team's credibility.

Max, sensing the potential damage to the team's reputation, made a bold and self-sacrificing decision.

In a press conference that echoed with the clamor of flashing cameras and probing questions, Max announced, "To protect the integrity of Red Bull Racing, I've decided to step away from the team temporarily while the investigation unfolds. I want the focus to be on racing, not distractions. I'll do whatever it takes to ensure Red Bull's legacy remains untarnished."

The room fell silent as the gravity of Max's sacrifice sunk in. The farewell was sudden and heart-wrenching.

The racing world, already shaken by the scandal, was now faced with the absence of one of its brightest stars. The headlines screamed of Max's sacrifice, but they couldn't capture the emotional weight of the moment.

Days turned into weeks, and the investigation continued. The absence of Max left a noticeable void in the team, and the once-united Red Bull Racing struggled to find its footing.

But then came the calm after the storm.

Headline: The Unraveling of Baseless Allegations

In a shocking revelation, the evidence that sent shockwaves through the racing world, casting doubt on Red Bull Racing's integrity, has been debunked. An internal re-evaluation by the governing bodies exposes the initial findings as groundless, leaving Max Verstappen and the team vindicated.

“Mercedes Issues Apology”

In an unprecedented move, Mercedes, the team that had been the primary voice behind the allegations, issued a public apology. Toto Wolff, team principal of Mercedes, conveys regret for the premature accusations and acknowledges the lack of concrete evidence against Red Bull Racing.

"In the spirit of fair play and competition, we must acknowledge when we are wrong," Wolff states. "Our initial concerns were based on incomplete information, and we sincerely apologize to Red Bull Racing, Max Verstappen, and the entire Formula 1 community for any distress our statements may have caused."

Max, having withdrawn from the limelight during the investigation, returned to Red Bull Racing with a mixture of relief and determination.

The racing community, having weathered the storm of controversy, was left to reflect on the implications of baseless allegations and the impact they can have on the integrity of the sport. 

But you two were far from everywhere. Far from the world of racing, in your world.

In Monaco, you were at Max's house overlooking the azure waters. The racing season had come to an end, and the echoes of the dramatic year lingered.

"I never thought we'd make it through," Max confessed, his eyes meeting yours on the balcony.

"Neither did I," you replied, a sense of shared resilience in your gaze.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow on the scene. Max wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer. "But here we are, stronger than ever."

It was race day. The Bahrain Grand Prix. Max and you were successfully navigating the ups and downs of your life together.

After the post-qualifying interview, Max pulled you away from the lively press room to a secluded, dimly lit room. He pushed you against the wall, sending a shiver through your body.

"So, Y/N, how about letting me win this time?" Max's words, warm against your ear, sent a rush of heat through you.

"In your dreams," you retorted.

Max's grin broadened, "This is going to be so much fun." Without hesitation, he pulled you into a kiss that defied the confines of the shadowy room. It was a fiery blend of desire and an energy that left you breathless.

When the kiss finally broke, Max locked eyes with you, a mischievous glint shining.

"Ready, partner?"

[minniethemoocherda]

TRANSFORMERS ONE TRAILER OPINIONS UNDER THE CUT

Cons: 

I love Bumblebee! He is one of my favourite Transformer characters! But even way back when this film was announced, I don’t think that he should have been in this particular movie. Hasbro said they were hoping to make a trilogy and I always thought it would’ve made more sense to introduce him in a sequel. I always thought it would have made more sense for Ratchet or Jazz or Dion to fill the role that he appears to be playing in this movie. And in general I feel Bumblebee is played a bit too OOC and kinda annoying. 

I am not a fan of the robot designs for the main four. I feel as though their silhouettes are all too similar. Remove the colours and I could not tell them apart. 

Also why is Elita-One a motorcycle? That’s Arcee’s vehicle! Why can’t see be truck like she usually is! 

Neutral:

The animation is definitely good quality, but after Spiderverse and Mutant Mayhem, I was hoping for something more stylised

I need to see more of Megatron before I form opinions of his portrayal here. 

I would prefer Orion to be a librarian but I’m interested to see him as a miner. At least they didn’t make him a fucking cop again. 

I was not expecting the Quintessons to show up. I like their designs but it makes me wonder what the overall plot of this film will be if it is going to be about the revolution at all? 

I hope we get a lot of cameos even if they don't get main roles!

Not sure how I feel about the lore changes of the Transformers not being able to transform until Alpha Trion gives them what looks like T-cogs (I hope they are not Matrixes).

But again a lot of the lore changes I can’t fully form opinions on until I see them fully explored in the movie.

 I liked what we saw of Orion and D-16’s dynamic so far but I can’t really have more of an opinion until we see more footage. 

Pros: 

I surprisingly really liked Chris Hemsworth as Orion both voice wise and what we’ve seen of his personality. 

Similarly I also really like ScarJo as Elita-One and her personality from what we have seen so far. And I love Elita so even having her here at all is fantastic!

I think the Starscream, Soundwave and Shockwave designs are great, much more distinctive! 

It is also cool to see Arachnid get a spotlight in the trailer! It would be cool to see her play a main role in the plot! 

I am interested to see how they explore Cybertron here! Especially with it having more integrated organic life than i was expecting as well as the fact that our main four have never been to the surface 

Overall I am very excited for the movie! I am aware that I am probably being too nitpicky. I think I have to accept that how I personally would have told this story is probably not how they are going to tell it. And its probably not going to be as mature as I had hoped. 

But regardless of the trailers I will be seeing this on opening day anyway lol

[dewdrops-whammy-bar]

re: the swissrora panty post, may i suggest vibrating panties and rory's got the remote clipped to her mic stand throughout the whole show 👀

FELIX. FELIX OH MY GOD. I AM GRABBING YOU AND SHAKING YOU.

Anyway here’s a horny-fueled something I wrote in my notes app. It’s messy. Enjoy.

Swiss may or may not be regretting this.

He hadn’t thought to test out how strong the vibrator could get before he’d slipped it into his panties on the tour bus. And now he was learning. Aurora was a devious little bastard, he’d give her that.

So now he was stood on stage, vibrator pulsing deliciously against his tdick, trying to act normal. Thankfully, his “normal” was usually quite horny, so it wasn’t too hard. Unlike him, he was very hard.

He could see Rory across the stage, casually clicking buttons on the little remote hidden in her palm. Each setting change sent more shockwaves up his spine. He tried not to let his voice falter or to accidentally moan into the mic.

The opening chords to Watcher in The Sky played and Swiss’s stomach sank. He suddenly realized Rory’s plan.

He usually went quite… feral during Dew’s solo during this song. Rolling around, screaming, contorting his body in odd ways, occasionally humping the stage, the works. If he’d predicted correctly, that was when Rory would pull out all the stops.

The moment came all too soon. The spotlight shone on Dew, he began his solo, and all hell broke loose, contained to a very specific area on Swiss’s body.

The vibrator was strong. Stronger than he’d expected for a toy that had been running constantly for around an hour. Swiss sunk to his knees, thighs trembling slightly. The rapid pulsing of the toy felt like a jackhammer of warmth against his clit.

He gritted his teeth. Satanas, he was so fucking close. He jolted his hips slightly, the seam of his pants pressing the toy harder against his aching clit. It was inevitable, he knew this would be a big one. He just hoped that he’d be able to get his shit together in time for the end of the sol-

Fuck. Fuck fuck shit fuck oh Satan that’s good. I’m gonna kill Rory or maybe suck her off later but unholy fuck unholy shit this is fuck oh fuck ohhhhh

Wait, I need to. Need to get up. Fuck, I’m so sensitive, shit that’s too much-

Swiss hauled himself to his feet on slightly trembling legs, a little dizzy and still shuddering through the last shreds of his orgasm. Mercifully, the vibrator lowered to a more manageable level and Swiss was able to get his trembles and overstimulation under control.

Swiss had never wished for a show to be over like this one before. He was sore and swollen and overstimulated but every movement of his hips just sent more pleasure into the pit of his belly. It was delicious torture.

Finally, finally, the show was over, the band took their bows and filed backstage, and Swiss was able to corner Rory. She just giggled, ramped up the intensity of the vibrator, and slipped away toward the tour bus.

That night in their hotel room Swiss made Rory cum so many times that she was almost sorry. Almost.

[devilart2199-aibi]

IDW collection reading update! :^) 📖

Just finished Phase 2 volume 3! This volume included: The MTMTE 2012 Annual + issues 9-13, The RID 2012 Annual + issues 10-11, Signal to Noise and Spotlights: Thundercracker, Bumblebee and Megatron!

My thoughts will be below! ⤵️

MTMTE 2012 Annual:

Started off super wacky with Magnus 😂 Then got really interesting with Crystal City disappearing, The Metrotitan being underneath and the Galactic Council making their appearance! I liked how they tried to recruit Magnus and he said nah and smiled :)

RID 2012 Annual:

Absolutely LOVED the vintage/retro comic pages they did for the story/flashbacks of Nova's group!! Why so evil, but so cool looking?? I'm curious to see what all that with the Metrotitan and Starscream meant! 🤔

MTMTE 9-11:

Absolute banger. Probably one of my favorite stories so far!! I'm sorry but a murder mystery?? on Cybertron? in the past?? with stellar art!?! Sign me up any day.

Also it was great to finally learn more about Senator Shockwave and the rest of the Characters! Like Drift, Chromedome and Whirly! The back and forth with all the banter and the layers of fronts and corruption ahhh *chefs kisses*

Also I thought this ⬆️ was so cute bc it's a fact right out of Prowls characters bio/info sheet/page.

MTMTE 12:

This is the Surprise! Give you a mini heart attack issue lol Bc of my own silliness I was stressed the whole time reading it 😂 but it was really good!! We got to learn a bunch about Rewind. And that him and Chromedome are Conjunx' !! 🥺💞

MTMTE 13:

This was a super fun issue! I'm absolutely loving all this Magnus character time!!

The Holomatter Avatars were pretty funny 😂 Whirl was too adorable and I thought it was really sweet that Magnus chose to look like Verity 🥺 Uncle Magnus misses his kid.

I felt bad for Swerve ;_; also I'm excited to see more from Cyclonus and Tailgate!! This ship is full of liars lol 😂

RID 10-11:

10 was an issue where Orion (previously Optimus) is currently hunting down Jihaxus to get answers for stuff and things. There is quite a bit of time jumping back and forth which always gets me confused 😂 it was interesting tho!

Issues 11 Starscream takes action against his Deceptibros (Just Shockwave, Soundwave and their posse really) and I really look forward to his team up with Prowl, if it goes anywhere from here! Also Arcee killing more people rip Ravage, Frenzy and those other guys 🫡 and a wild Megatron makes a reappearance?!?!

Signal to Noise:

It was a little Lost Light interlude! It was from Rung's perspective. I feel like I haven't seen much from him specifically so it was pretty cool and interesting :> Like everything, I'm curious to see where it goes!

Spotlights:

Thundercrackers was enjoyable! It just reinforced that he was good leaning, or at least not one for senseless violence. I really like him and hope he makes a reappearance! I'm curious what he's up to on earth

Bumblebee's was fine. Him struggling to be the leader and feeling like he has to prove himself, but getting the job done!

Megatron's was a banger. I absolutely love his monologs. What he thinks of his Decepticons and the 'Pep talk' he gave Starscream to get him back to his usual self.

----

Final random thoughts:

Of all the storylines, MTMTE is still my favorite to read rn. I must admit, Rodimus tho is stressing me out as the leader 😂 I was gonna say my fav characters rn but, there are just too many haha

I've already hopped into volume 4 so I'll be seeing you soon with more ramblings! 👋

[solarzilla]

recently finished rereading Maximum Dinobots and the trade comes with some dinobot concept art by Nick Roche , such as their original organic looks in Spotlight shockwave and mechanical looks of Grimlock, Sludge, and Swoop

[hinaaspanda]

test me! | j.s

pairing: soccer player! Jake Sim x nerd, fem! reader

warnings: swearing

genre: fluff, angst, crack, childhood friends to lovers, sports

wc: 8,785

Jake Sim knew that Choi Yeonjun, the soccer team's bad boy, was bad news. So naturally, he felt uneasy the moment you revealed your crush on him to your friends. Jake never knew why, but something in him was telling him to stop you, to save you from him. So, what was this almighty, unfailing plan? Pretending to fail at math just so you could tutor him, of course!

a/n; hi again! i'm back with my second enhypen member fic! i'll try my best to regulate my writing schedule in some way but school's starting soon so that plan might just backfire at me hsndhsgja anyways enjoy!

...

Was it so weird to have a crush?

You swear, just two minutes ago, that having a crush wasn’t groundbreaking news. The concept of having feelings for someone wouldn’t stir up an explosion of gasps and illicit noises. Crushes were mundane in your young adult, college life. They never summoned a stupefied face, or a mouth gaping open in shock. 

So why was it so much different for you?

“You have a crush on Choi Yeonjun!?” The 4 friends surrounding your frame all leap forward from the couch, scanning your face. Trying to confirm if you were, in fact, not lying. The buzz of the TV static echoed in Jay’s basement, the TV program growing dry and bland in contrast to the juicy new information. Sunghoon and Nabi—the most eye roll inducing couple in the world—stole repeated glances at you, then at each other, like the audience of a ping pong game watching the ball soar through the air.

Jay, meanwhile, couldn’t feel his eyes pop out of their sockets, the shock stunning his nerves too much. You sat in the middle of the dim lit basement, your shoulders hunching forward at the spotlight you were so hastily thrust upon. How would you have known about the literal shockwaves of feedback from sharing something with your beloved friends. Your brows furrow, throwing up your hands in defense. “Yeah? What’s so wrong with that?”

“Nothing, it’s just…” A hand lifted to Jay’s temple. The silence had scared you shitless as you waited for him to continue. “This is Choi Yeonjun we’re talking about. Don’t you think it’s a little risky?”

You bite at your lip, fingers fumbling with each other as you keep an eye on the ground. You grew silent. Jay definitely wasn’t lying. Choi Yeonjun was an untouchable on your college campus—his entire friend group was. Him and his five friends stood under the spotlight even before you and your friends enrolled two years later. Girls toppled over one another, tripped on their own faces just to get one chance with him. You could admit that falling for Yeonjun was a bit of a reckless move. Your head hung low as you felt an arm wrap around your shoulders. 

“I guess–”

“Don’t worry guys! Y/n can take care of herself just fine!” Nabi chirped, finally ripping herself away from her boyfriend's side, just to latch onto you. She looks at you with a smile. “I got your full support, and I’ll fight anyone who doesn’t!” She stuck her tongue out at Jay’s direction. 

A smile bloomed on your lips, at least someone was supportive. However, that smile quickly faded as you noticed something odd about the room. Jake Sim, the last of the friend group who was oddly quiet, was sitting off to the side, alone. 

You knew Jake Sim. Probably longer than anyone else in the room did. Jake Sim was your best friend, characterized best by his cheerful, loud demeanor. His bright nature and even brighter smile could light up a sea of darkness. Not to mention, his talkative habit could uncover him in a crowd in mere seconds. It reminded you of a golden retriever of sorts.  

Which made this current Jake all the more confusing. 

Jake sat a few spaces away from your spot on the couch, his back resting on the plump leather arm rest and feet sprawled across the surface. A lamp dimly lit on top of him, the almost orange glow casting onto his figure, highlighting his features. The snack bowl, which once resided on the communal coffee table, rested in the middle of his lap as he haphazardly popped chips into his mouth. You assumed he quickly snatched it whilst the rest of your friends went into cardiac arrest after you mentioned your apparently controversial crush. That was what confused you the most: the lack of a reaction from him. 

Jake Sim was quiet for the rest of the night. Odd, considering how much more normal he had been when you guys first started the night. It was as if his voice was snatched away from him. Held captive against his will. Your eyes tried to search for his as the commotion between your three other friends began to rise again. His eyes finally meet yours, but ripped away from your grasp in mere seconds. Your brows furrowed, stomach growing queasy. 

Was Jake that mad about it?

You wanted to get Jake’s attention, but Sunghoon beat you to the punch. “Hey Jake? You good man?”

All eyes were on the golden retriever, who sat spaced out. He jolted back to reality, throwing on his iconic big grin almost instantly. He shrugged, sending another chip flying into his lips. “Yeah! Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Sunghoon sent a playful nudge to Jake’s shoulder, and the rest of the group finally let their guards down. You let yourself calm down, too. With your mission for the night being relatively successful. Hungry for more snacks, you scanned the living room for the snack bowl that had just vanished from the coffee table, your eyes meeting something much more confusing. 

Jake was looking at you. 

He didn’t look away this time, his eyes were planted on you. Burning through your skin. Your shoulders hunch over once again, eyes looking back at him. The noisy friends, the world around you, it all faded away, leaving the two of you alone. You gulped, a part of you not able to even glance away.

What was going on in Jake’s mind? 

You cock your head to the snack bowl sitting on his lap, and he regains consciousness once again. Jolting, he nods, handing you the snack bowl before rising up from his seat on the couch. Your eyes follow his escaping figure as he slides past your boisterous friends, who moved onto a completely different topic of conversation. You huff one last sigh before turning your attention back to your friends. Though, you still couldn’t help but glance back at the kitchen—where Jake disappeared— every now and then.

That was weird. 

…

The sky was painted pitch black as you drove home from Jay’s house that night. You had only two light sources available; the street lamps you sped past, and the blue light of the radio in Jake Sim’s car.

It was a normal occurrence for Jake to drive you home on most nights. It was one of the many perks with being best friends with the golden retriever. You’ve known him for all of your life, it was only natural. It saved gas, money, time and energy. It was a convenient option, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Well, except this time.

The air between you and your driver was stark dry. You felt as if you couldn’t move a limb under the pressure of the silence. Your breaths grew shallow as you tried to focus on the flying streetlights. Key word: trying.

Jake was still fairly quiet, mumbling a few words here and there about the weather and how pretty the sky looked. However, this current Jake was nothing like the one you knew and loved. There was something different. Something odd about him. Frankly, you didn’t really enjoy this new, quiet version of Jake Sim. 

“Be honest.” You huffed, catching your driver’s attention. “You hate him, don’t you?”

“Hate who?” He chirped back, cocking an eyebrow.

“Yeonjun! The guy I like.”

You took notice of his initial pause. Gulping, you look back out the window of the passenger seat. A bus drives by your view, and you’ve never wanted to hop on the back of one so bad in your life. 

“I don’t hate Yeonjun, what are you talking about? Yeonjun and I are chill, though I’ve only talked to him a few times at practice.” His voice peaked behind you, his tone returning to his cheeky, upbeat default. You felt your chest deflate in relief. However, your brows still furrowed as you shot back with another question. “So why were you acting so weird tonight? You were, like, oddly quiet. It wasn’t like you.”

“Oh…” Jake trailed off. With one hand on the steering wheel, he placed his free arm on the ledge of the window, his hand lifting up to his lips. You watched his neck bob up and down in a gulp. “I was probably just surprised, you know? I never thought you’d go for someone like him.”

You dip your head down, flustered. 

Jake glanced back at you, eyebrows raised as he shines a playful grin. “Yeonjun’s a bit of a bad boy, y/n. You think you can handle it?”

“Piss off!” You whined.

His teasing words earned himself a punch to the shoulder, courtesy of your fist. Jake whined like a child before making eye contact with you again. The two of you throw yourselves into a fit of laughter. You smile. You were glad to have your golden retriever back. 

The two of you fall back into silence as he pulls up to your driveway. Although it wasn’t a tense silence, but rather a comfortable cloud, where the two of you could enjoy your midnight ride without any words. It was the type of silence you had been praying for since the car ride from Jay’s house started. You couldn’t help but smile. Jake parks the car and you latch your fingers onto the door handle, but Jake’s voice stops you frozen. 

“Wait, I have an idea!”

You slowly plop back into your position on the car seat, turning your head to listen to him. You tilt your head to the side, as Jake throws his hands in the air in excitement. 

“What if I help you get with Yeonjun, if you help tutor me for my math exam?”

You froze, confusion lacing your body. Since when did Jake Sim of all people need help with a math exam? You knew him for all 20 years of his life, and not once did he need help in school. Jake had always been at the top of his class, scoring perfect marks and doing so without so much as breaking a sweat. Even as you moved into high school—and later on in college—despite balancing school and his beloved soccer team, Jake never got caught with anything lower than a B+ on his exam paper.

He was what everyone dreamed of being: the perfect student. 

So what was he doing here, asking you for help with math?

“You want my help?”

“I’ve… uh, been out of my game lately. I think it’s from practice, Coach is going way too hard on us.” Jake scratched the nape of his neck. He glances back at you, who hasn’t stopped shooting confused glances at him since.  

“Trust me, you’re my best bet, y/n. You’re smart, probably the smartest one out of all of us. Jay and Sunghoon are kinda hopeless with this kind of stuff. Plus, I can tell you all about Yeonjun during our sessions! Sounds like a sweet deal, right?”

You lean back in the car seat, pursing your lips in thought. Jake was correct about everything. As much as you loved the other two, they were useless when it came to their studies. And, if Jake was right about his claim, his deal didn’t seem that bad at all. Your stomach flips in itself in excitement as you watch Jake hold out a hand. 

“Deal?”

You latch your hand onto his, shaking it firmly. 

“Alright, fine.”

…

Jake Sim, you absolute idiot.

That’s what he told himself, over and over again the minute he got back from driving you home. 

He laid down in the dim blue light of his room, his back seeping into the surface of the mattress as he tossed the soccer ball in the air. He watched mindlessly as the ball floated for a second, before soaring back down to the palm of his hand. All without a thought in his mind, due to the fact that his mind was overwhelmed with the thought of you.

Why did you have to start liking Choi Yeonjun of all people? Everyone, especially the guys on his soccer team knew he—and the rest of his group—were nothing but a bunch of players. Were you just slow to the news? Or did the fact that Yeonjun was a little more suave than the others, pique your interest? It didn’t matter. Either way, you were bound to wind up with a broken heart. And the thought of that happening made Jake’s chest rumble. He never wanted that to happen to his best friend. 

Even so, why did he have to lose his cool? 

His mind wandered back to Jay’s kitchen, where him and the man of the house stood before the sink. 

Jay gulped down the last bit of his glass, worry laced in his face. Jake tapped his fingers on the glass, teeth nipping at his lips. 

“How are we gonna convince her that Yeonjun isn’t the right guy?” Jake only hummed, irritation popping on his skin at the mention of his senior’s name. It was weird. He never had a problem with the guy before. So why was tonight any different?

Was it because of you?

“You think you could come up with something?” Jay’s voice chirped in Jake’s ears. He huffed as Jake touched his glass to his lips. “I don’t think she’s going to listen to me, but she might listen to you.”

“I’ll try.” He kept his words to a minimum, nodding before the two of them joined the main group back in the living room.

And what was this all powerful, altruistic plan? Asking you to help him with a subject he needed no assistance in, all while giving you the false promise of dating the guy you needed to avoid. 

Talk about progress. 

It wasn’t all bad news, though. At least with all time the two of you spend together, Jake could try and convince you that Yeonjun wasn’t a guy you wanted to mess with. Jake stopped tossing the soccer ball in the air, plopping it on the carpet floor before shooting out of the bed. He trudged to his bathroom towel, picking it up and throwing it over his shoulder, all while scratching his head. 

Why did Yeonjun’s name leave such an ugly taste in his mouth?

Especially when it had to do with you?

Jake heaved a sigh. He could do this. He could survive his mission for the next few weeks. 

Right?

…

“Why can’t we just study at your place?” The golden retriever groaned as you took his hand and yanked him into the vast space of the college library. You hastily dragged him towards one of the room's large tables, plopping your school bag on the seat beside you. “‘Cause it’s harder to focus when you study at your own place. Too many distractions. Now sit.”

Jake picked up your bag, discarding it on the floor before claiming its former spot—right beside you. Your eyes roll in disappointment, bending down to get your notebooks. You purse your lips. “And besides… we might run into him.”

“Bruh,” Jake became dumbfounded by your actual reason for staying at the campus after class. It wasn’t to strengthen his actual academic potential, no. It was so you could see stupid Choi Yeonjun. He cocked a judging eyebrow at you. “Yeah, you’re sounding real focused right now.”

A punch was sent to the poor man’s shoulder. “Shut up!”

“What!? You’re the one being totally shameless right now!” Jake snorts. 

Your face crinkles in irritation. You hated how he was right. “Let’s just get this over with, god.”

After a bit more bickering, the two of you fall swiftly into your study session. The two of you took and rewrote notes together, you threw questions his way, and he always bounced back with the answers. This study session was growing quite successful.

Hours flew by, and you finally granted your eyes a well deserved break as you leaned back on the chair. Like magic, a handful of chip bags plopped onto the surface before you. All of them, your favorite flavours, too. You were in heaven. Your eyes glistened in excitement, hands flying to the pile like opposite ends of a magnet. Jake huffs proudly, sinking into his seat with a puffed up chest. “You’re welcome, by the way. I got those just for you.”

You hum. So that was why he was gone on his bathroom break for so long. Your fingers rip open the flimsy plastic, shoving a few down the bag and fishing for your first catch of the day. Mouth full of puffed up oil, potatoes and flavouring, you turn your head to him. “How’d you know what flavours I like?”

A big grin pulls at his cheeks. He sends a finger to your forehead, placing a small flick on the center. 

“I’ve known you for all my life, y/n. I think I would know your favourite chip flavours, dummy.”

Your eyes lingered on his dumb, big smile a little more than you’d like to admit. 

You blink, shoving more chips into your mouth. For a split second, you could feel your heart flutter at Jake’s words and soothing voice. Your wandering eyes couldn’t help but gawk at him. His sharpened jaw line, his sculpted features- he had definitely changed since your days at highschool. Your eyes reach up to his: have they always been so bright? A gulp shoots down your throat. You almost forgot about the fact that he had just flicked your forehead. You bite the inside of your cheek, throwing yourself back to reality. What’s wrong with you?

“Well, thanks.” You clear your throat, straightening your spine as you turn away from the puppy you dubbed your best friend. You were probably just going mental, right? Like ‘someone please throw her into a hospital, ASAP’ type of insane. Get those thoughts out of your head!

You throw your frame before your books, burying your nose between the pages of your notes. Anything to distract yourself. To pull yourself out of Jake’s mesmerizing stare. 

“Okay then–”

“Wait, you got a little something–”

Suddenly, the pads of Jake’s thumb grazed ever so gently against your chin. His touch reaches up to the corner of your lips, catching you off guard; throwing your sanity off the edge. Your eyes widen, your breath stuck in your throat. Shivers shoot down your spine, your eyes watching as Jake inches closer to your face. Your skin grows hot, the area of your cheeks specifically bursting into flames. In two swift movements, Jake’s thumb sweeps across your lips. After what felt like an eternity, however, his touch pulled away from your skin. His thumb carried with it a few crumbs which had been stuck on the corner of your mouth. You gulp. Since when was his touch so warm?

“There we go,” Jake huffed, stifling a chuckle. “You’ve got crumbs all over your mouth.” 

Your heartbeat was drumming in your ears, ringing in your head. You bit your lip, the skin there turning white. You muttered a poor excuse for a response before turning back to your notes. Your saving grace. 

Just then, a confusing series of shuffling and noise perks in your ears, catching your and Jake’s attention. Two towering figures emerge from thin air: two boys. One was loud and, frankly, annoying. The other had the innate ability to make your heart stop. After looking at each other, you and Jake glance up. Standing before you were two of the five hotshots of the campus: Choi Beomgyu and Choi Yeonjun. 

You choked on a potato chip. 

…

“Jakeyyyyy!!” The shorter, relatively at least, of the two yells out. These two were both giants—one, Beomgyu, yelled in a voice most definitely inappropriate for a library. It earned more than a few irked glares. Beomgyu skipped towards the boy, ruffling his hair in a swift, but tormenting noogie, all while holding down Jake’s squirming figure with a tense arm. “Whatcha’ doing over here!?”

As the two fall into a rabbit hole of squabbling, Yeonjun inches closer to you, and all hell breaks loose in your mind. You froze, anxiety shooting down your spine like the end of a roller coaster. A mountain of butterflies erupt from the pit of your stomach as Yeonjun dips his head down, shining a smile at you. 

Beomgyu’s booming voice shoots at your ears once again. “And who might this be?”

“I’m–”

“Her name’s y/n,” Yeonjun interrupted, his eyes never leaving yours. “Did I get that right?”

Your head was spinning. “Uh… yeah!”

“Glad we could finally meet! Jakey’s only told me nice things about you!” 

Beomgyu extends a hand to you, and you take it timidly. As chic as a model on a runway, Yeonjun combed a hand through his hair, and you felt your cheeks flush in heat. At least Jake held up his part of the bargain. 

After greeting you with a simple smile and nod, Beomgyu tilts his head, visibly confused. “You two studying together?”

“I’m actually tutoring him,” You barely managed to stutter out. You jolt, realizing you had been staring off into space—or Yeonjun—for a little longer than you would’ve liked to admit. “We’re preparing for an exam next week.”

“Woah, so you’re like, smart smart!” Beomgyu gawked. “Jakey’s like the smartest on the soccer team!”

A figure suddenly ghosted behind your back, shooting chills down your spine. You froze like a deer in headlights. Under his breath, Yeonjun was reading your notes out loud before blinding you with another eye smile. “Looks like you really know your stuff! Maybe you can tutor me sometime?”

His tone made your stomach flutter. Did Yeonjun have this effect on everyone?

“Hey guys? Sorry to interrupt, but y/n and I are kinda busy right now.” After a century of silence, Jake’s voice peaked in your ears. You look back to see that he’s been much more than quiet since his to senior’s came to visit. A glint of bitterness switched in his eyes, and his jaw looked tense. His grip looked rather firm, too. The force milking the colour away from his knuckles. You could practically feel the steam puffing from his ears. “Could you maybe bug us later?”

Beomgyu looked stunned, throwing up his hands in defense. “Oh, yeah, of course. Sorry to bother you, little man. We’ll, uh, see you later.” His words faltered towards the end as he and Yeonjun inched away from the table. 

“See you around, y/n!” Yeonjun waved before turning back to follow his teammate.

You flip back to face your desk partner, a million questions running through your mind. However, those questions would be left unsolved due to that desk partner shooting out of his seat, with minimal eye contact towards you. 

“I, uh, bathroom.”

You couldn’t utter a word before he disappeared from your sight.

What was going on with Jake Sim?

…

The rush of the water clouded Jake’s ears as he gazed upon his reflection on the mirror. He did everything he could; slap himself back to reality, splash his face with water so cold it almost burned. Nevertheless, it was no use. He couldn’t get rid of that ugly feeling crawling beneath his skin. 

He knew what his job was. He knew he had to protect you from Yeonjun, from his dangerous reputation. He knew he had to keep you safe as your best friend. 

But why did it feel so wrong seeing you so close to him? 

A groan escapes Jake’s lips. He leans forwards, sending all of his weight onto the bathroom counter. The breath of his anguish was so dense, it clouded the washroom mirror. Another image of you clouding your mind in the same way. 

Jake Sim was going crazy. 

…

If your brain wasn’t already fried, it certainly was now. It had to be, with the 20 different directions it split itself into that morning. It juggled multiple things at once; how you were going to have breakfast—since your fridge was as barren as a dessert; to what outfit you were going to wear today. However, your brain was overwhelmingly focused on the events of yesterday. The very confusing events of the college library. 

Jake Sim sent your heart on a rollercoaster. His actions ripped your heart out of your chest, shaking it like theres no tomorrow. You thought about the little stunt he pulled; wiping your face with his thumb. You thought about how much it tourmented your being, how much it stained your mind. You thought back to Jake’s smile.

His dumb, big smile. 

Thinking about him almost made you forget about Yeonjun entirely. You slapped yourself in the face. What the hell was going on with your mind? 

Currently, you stood before an ocean of clothes; the unfortunate result of your efforts to find an outfit for the day. You couldn’t pintpoint why you were so stressed, but you had a feeling Jake Sim had something to do with it. You were going over to his place to study after all.

With her hair tousled and still dawning her pyjamas, your roommate Nabi attempts, and fails to stifle a yawn. “So you need an outfit just for Jake’s place?” 

You wiggled your head out of a shirt neckline. “Yeah, and none of these outfits are working!”

After just two seconds of glancing at the mirror, you rip off the shirt in anguish. It wasn’t anywhere near what you were looking for. You slip on another outfit—a pair of shorts with a simple t-shirt. It didn’t fit right. You ripped it off, too. Again and again, you slipped on and ripped off clothes. Your hands worked like clockwork, the pile of clothes behind you growing up to your hip. You almost lost all hope until your hands grazed over some eye catching floral print. You threw the maxi skirt on in seconds, matching it with a cute top before spinning around to face your resident outfit inspector. Nabi’s expression lightened, a smile clinging on her previously tired face. 

“Woah! Someone’s looking cute!”

A sigh of relief huffs from your chest, a weight lifting from your shoulders. Thank god you found an outfit that made you look halfway decent. You shuffled over to your desk, picking up various accessories to decorate your outfit with. You watched Nabi through the mirror, tilting her head to the side. 

“Why are you getting all dressed up, though? It’s just Jake.”

Your heart dropped. Right. You were so wrapped up in your stress you barely even realized why you were getting dressed. All you were doing was going over to Jake’s house. It was something you’ve done a million times before. And every other time, you weren’t so roped up in an ocean of stress. 

What made this time so much different? 

Nabi stifles a grin, pulling you by the shoulders and sending you out the door with your things. “You wouldn’t wanna be late now, right? Have fun!”

…

“I still don’t get it,” Sunghoon’s eyebrows squished together in confusion. He hastily threw on a shirt, covering his once bare back after drying off from his after-practice shower. Jake was already miles ahead; fully clothed and drying off his dripping wet hair with a small towel. Sunghoon’s voice shot through the practically empty “You don’t even need y/n’s help with math, so why bother?”

Swinging open his locker, Jake pursed his lips. Ever since Sunghoon and Jay decided that the topic for today’s locker room conversation was Jake’s study sessions with you, Jake didn’t have a clue on what to say. After all, not much thought went into this stupid idea. Rustles from the shower rooms echoed through the hall, revealing a freshly washed Jay Park; hair drenched and a towel hanging from his hips. After chucking his belongings into his gym bag and zipping it up without a care in the world, Jake turned to the other two. 

“I’m not actually getting tutored,” Jake’s eyes wandered the shower room walls. “Think of it as like—a cover up, yeah.”

Jay and Sunghoon look at each other, and then back at Jake. 

“I’m asking her to tutor me so she can spend less time thinking about Yeonjun, make her forget about him” Jake eyes glossed over his friend’s before meeting the ground in defeat. “It, uh, made more sense in my head.”

“I guess I could see it working?” Hesitation lined Jay’s voice as he finally threw his shirt on. He wiggled through the cut out. “Why not just tell her, though? I figured she’d listen to you more than me, that’s why I passed it onto you.”

Jake cleared his throat. Tell you about Yeonjun. Why didn’t he just do that? Why was he so set on seeing you all the time?

A ping! jumps from Jake’s phone. Your name spreads across the top of the device’s screen, and a bolt of energy serges through Jake’s veins. 

    y/n, the big fat nerd /j [4:47pm]: i’m here at the parking lot!

With this newfound energy, Jake gathers up his things and slams his locker shut; all at the speed of light. He couldn’t quite pinpoint it—hell, he couldn’t pinpoint anything these days—but he grew quite energetic at the thought of you. Like a child moments before a rollercoaster ride, he almost felt ecstatic. He told himself it was just for the plan. 

As he reached his own locker, Sunghoon kept his eyes on the golden retriever so full of energy. A smirk lined his lips. “Someone looks excited to see her.”

“Piss off!” Jake defended before dashing out of the locker room. 

Maybe Sunghoon was right. 

…

Jake Sim’s heart was racing.

Odd, considering he gauged himself to be fairly fit in the physical department, being a college athlete and all. A quick jog from the campus doors to the campus parking lot shouldn’t have been that physically draining for him. And yet, here he was, with his heart beating out of his chest as he stood in front of you. 

He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you as you rambled on and on about being late. Jake didn’t seem to notice what it was you exactly said, not with his head practically spinning at the sight of you. You in your floral maxi skirt and mini cardigan. Hair pinned up and dawning those glasses Jake always nagged you to wear more often. The golden retriever also took much notice of the makeup you wore today; the cherry red lip gloss staining an image in his mind for longer than he anticipated. 

You looked stunning.

“—Are you even listening?” Your words finally managed to peak in his ear drums. Jake cleared his throat, panic rising in him. Adjusting his backpack straps, he caught a glimpse of your frustrated pout, his chest pounding with a feeling he couldn’t quite describe. What was going on with him?

“If we just agreed to meet before my practice, I wouldn’t be late!” Jake retorted playfully. A feeling his heart wasn’t quite reciprocating. 

You inched forward, the gap between your two figures closing. You crossed your arms, face squishing in as you shot him an accusatory glare. Jake however, wasn’t scared of the faces you were making, but rather the effect you had on him. The very strong effect, nonetheless.

“Don’t give me that, I know you just wanna get out of practice!” Your eyes dipped to the ground, your tone shifting to more of a timid hue. “And besides, getting ready took longer than I thought. I’m not used to getting all dressed up.”

Curiosity switched in the golden boy’s brain. “You tried dressing up for me?”

Your face displayed about four different facial expressions before balling up a fist to send straight to Jake’s shoulder. “As if! I dressed up for myself, thank you very much!”

Jake stood frozen, nipping at his lips. He still couldn’t stop staring at you, now could he? 

“What? What’s so wrong with trying something new?”

Only then did Jake Sim notice that his heart was still racing the same way it did when he first ran to the parking lot. 

“Nothing.” He uttered casually before walking over to his driver’s side of the car.

You look amazing, he thought to himself, maybe not so casually. 

…

“You want me to go to the soccer game?” A pencil spun effortlessly between your fingers as you looked behind your shoulder. It was the only way to face the golden retriever, who was currently laying down on his bed, completely giving up on your study session for the day. You huff a sigh. You might as well give up, too. Your eyes needed the break, anyway. You shot from Jake’s desk seat, gesturing for Jake to make room for you on his bed. “Scoot over.”

“Yeah, I figured since you don’t have as many exams this year, you’d have time to actually come for once.” Jake tilted his head as you sat beside him. 

Your chest cringed with guilt. Jake was right. As much as you wanted to attend his home games, they always managed to line right up with your schedule for exams; everyone knew better than to bother you during exam week, so Jake never tried asking you to watch. However, this year seemed to be a lucky one; your final exam for the term just a day before the game. Which meant one thing; you were finally free to go. You whipped out your phone, swiping over to the calendar app. 

“I’ll check if I’m—”

“Oh no you don’t.”

As fast as a strike of lightning, your phone leaps out of your hands. Currently, it swung over your head. Just above your measly, small reach. The culprit? None other than Jake Sim, acting childish as ever. You watch him smirk above you, his reach growing further and further from yours. “You don’t get a choice this time, dummy. You’re going to that game!” 

“Hey! Give that back, asshole!”

His arm reached further and you climbed up to your knees. Like a fish out of water, you leaped up to snatch your phone out of his hands, but it was no use. Your precious device was still out of your reach. You prop a hand on his shoulder, your face mere centimeters before his. Jake flashes another grin, making your blood boil. 

“Not a chance, sweets. You’re only getting this back once you say you can go.”

You gulp at the new nickname. Where'd he learn how to talk like that? Heat began to creep up onto your cheeks. You clear your throat. “You’re serious?”

“When am I not?”

“Jake Sim, I am going to kill you.”

You groan, latching onto his shoulder once again. You weren’t the type to give in without a fight. You were going to get your phone back. Your eyes grew dark as you shot up to the stars, finally closing in on his stubborn hand—the kidnapper to your poor, innocent phone. You jumped again, the sheets below your two figures shifting. However, you couldn’t care less about the world around you at that moment; the only thing that mattered was getting your phone back. 

“Wait—y/n!”

Thud. That was the noise Jake’s head made as it plummeted through the feathers of his pillow. It was also the noise that electrified through your jaw as you pounded onto the rather tense surface of his chest. You felt a pair of hands snake and latch onto the sides of your waist, their grip laced with all the worry in the world. With all your might, you propped yourself up, maybe about a pinky worth space hanging between yours and Jake Sim’s.

Your panicked eyes finally lock onto his, and the two of you lay frozen on his bed. You were terrified to make a wrong move. Yet, there was this voice inside of you, telling you to do anything but move, to just stay right where you are. Instinctively, your eyes trail down, examining the rest of his face—seeing him this close definitely wasn’t an everyday occurrence, and a part of you felt the need to take advantage of that. Only now—with only a couple of centimeters dancing between you—did you notice Jake’s honey skin; unblunted jaw. Eyelashes that could fan a forrestfire to sleep. Not once did you ever look at Jake like this. So why on earth couldn’t you stop?

This needed to stop. You like Yeonjun, you reminded yourself.

Your eyes trail down further. The way he licked his lips, the way his adam’s apple bobbed up and down. Why couldn’t you look away?

You like Yeonjun. Not Jake. 

“You okay?” Jake finally spoke, shaking you to your core. His playful demeanour was thrown out the window; a suitable reaction to almost falling to your death via his stupid prank. While you were okay in a physical sense, your heart couldn’t stop racing. Ever since you face planted on his stupidly buff chest, the pounds of your heartbeat had grown rampant, unbearable. Your stomach was fluttering, turning in on itself. Nothing made sense anymore. You had to run. 

You pushed yourself from Jake’s chest, bolting from his bed. Lightspeed, you bundled all of your things in your hands and zoomed through the door, making sure to hide your flushed face from the golden retriever in the room. The only golden retriever who could turn your world upside down, apparently. 

You didn’t like Jake. 

Right?

…

“You’re paying me back. Big time.” You grumbled as Nabi hopped out of the passenger’s seat. A big grin lining her face, she dashed to your side of the car before enveloping you in a big hug. “I know, I know, thank you, really!”

What was this big favour Nabi had asked you for? And what was the sole reason for your sour mood? Being forced to attend the college soccer game, of course!

You see, after that absurd moment back at Jake’s house, you visibly panic at the thought of him. Jake Sim has staked his claim on your mind, and your life as you knew it was starting to distort slowly into madness. You only knew one solution to this problem; run away. You couldn’t develop feelings for your best friend, are you mad? It all needed to end. Now. So after your final exam of the season, you decided to stay home with warm coffee and a book, instead of attending the soccer game. After all, it was best to avoid Jake Sim at all costs. 

You wouldn’t know how much your heart could handle, otherwise. 

But alas, your best friend, Nabi, had different plans. Due to a slip up in her and Sunghoon’s schedules, Nabi was left without a ride. Not to mention, she miraculously forgot to return one of the two tickets to the soccer game. Safe to say, you weren’t exactly thrilled when you opened your bedroom door, only to find Nabi dawning a nervous smile, two tickets in her hand. 

You and Nabi make your way to the bleachers while you physically strain yourself to not look in the golden retriever’s direction. Through your peripheral vision you were already able to spot his team, running small laps around their half of the field. Warming up for the big event. Sitting down, you close your eyes. No. You were not going to try and find Jake. You will not cave in. 

Slowly, your eyes open up to the world once again. There he was, dawning a sweatband and jogging with all of his might. Mr. #5. You hated how easily you remembered his number.

Replays of the past few days reel back through your mind. Why couldn’t you forget them already? What was Jake doing to you?

“y/n?” A voice peaked in your ears. A familiar one. You glance up to see Choi Yeonjun in his sports uniform, a towel hanging from his neck. “What are you doing here?”

Sure, you were shocked to see him, but something had changed. Changed since the last time you ran into him—back at the library. There was a lack of a spark popping on your skin, a lack of flutters emitting from your stomach. Everything in your body stood flat, dormant. Yeonjun shined a smile at you, and you mirrored him. “Oh, just watching.”

“That’s good, that’s good.” A twinge of stiffness lined his voice, a hint of awkwardness. Yeonjun shoots a wink. “Make sure to cheer for me from the stands, yeah?”

Still dormant. No stomachs fluttering or faces flushing. You fake a giggle, eyes wandering. “We’ll see!”

You didn’t even notice when Yeonjun left. 

Boy, did your eyes ever wander. They wandered right into the figure of Jake Sim. Your eyes watched as Jake continued to practice, effortlessly sending the ball into the air with a swift kick, his knackered appearance catching you off guard. Your body shot from its dormant state, firing up at the sight of your best friend. Your stomach fluttering; your heart racing. All of the reactions you should’ve been having with Yeonjun, were all happening in the presence of Jake Sim. 

You had a crush on Jake Sim. Your best friend. 

…

The golden boy should’ve been happy when he saw you walk through the bleachers, claiming a seat amidst the audience waiting to watch the soccer game. Jake was sure you were going to ditch his invitation entirely, especially after the incident in his bedroom. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if you’d speak to him ever again, not with the way you stormed out of the house. He let himself get carried away with you, it only seemed fair. Jake stole one last glance at you before resuming his warm up. The athlete ran up to the ball, sending the inflated prop flying with a swift kick before running back to the end of the line. 

Jake Sim should’ve been happy to see you. So why was he so ticked off?

Choi Yeonjun. That’s why. 

The beloved captain was slacking off and ditching team warm ups. All in an effort to talk to you. Jake couldn’t help but stare at the two of you, your figure now conveniently hidden behind Yeonjun’s ginormous one. The boy felt his skin light in flames, the blood just beneath boiling hot. His knuckles popped white as he tightened his fists. His jaw tightened, a vein appearing on his neck. He watched as you and Yeonjun laughed along to some stupid joke Yeonjun must’ve said. 

Why the hell were you up there, and not with him. 

Jake slaps both of his cheeks with his hands; a call back to reality. Who was he kidding? You probably wanted nothing to do with him anymore. The events of that afternoon said it all. Jake stood no chance with you. 

After what felt like an eternity, the beloved captain finally made his way down to the field. The team coach only grumbles at the sight of this slacking captain, rolling his eyes at the behavior he's seen countless times before. In an (very poor) effort to lighten the somber mood, Yeonjun only boasts a laugh, throwing an (unwanted) arm around Jake’s shoulders. “Why the sour mood?”

“Where the hell have you been? We’ve been waiting for almost an hour!” Jake grits. 

“Okay, chill out, man! I was just talking to some friends.” Yeonjun waved his hand in defense. Crossing his arms, Jake’s jaw tightened more as Yeonjun (regretfully) continued to talk. “Jesus, what’s gotten you so worked up, little man?”

Jake gritted his teeth. He never liked that nickname. Instinctively, Jake’s eyes trail up to you, sitting beside Nabi on the bleachers, paying no mind to him. Yeonjun’s curious eyes follow, an epiphany dropping onto him. “Oh I get it, you’re pissed that I made a move on y/n before you.”

Steam puffed from Jake’s ears. “Buzz off, Yeonjun.”

“So you wouldn’t mind if I just… asked y/n out after the game, right?”

The bomb finally ticked off. Within seconds, Jake grasped the soccer player by the collar, his knuckles whitening from the pressure. Jake stared Yeonjun down, a fire glinting in his eyes. A fire he’s never felt before, until it was about you. Jake practically hissed as he spoke to his senior. “Don’t even think about asking her out, asshole.”

“Oh yeah? And why should I?”

Jake couldn’t even process the whistle blowing; the indication to start the game. 

“‘Cause I’m in love with her.”

…

I need to find him. 

That’s what replayed in your brain as you ran down the campus hallway. Thankfully, the building was mainly empty—time had passed from the end of the game and most people had left by now, but you never saw Jake Sim leave as you waited from the stands. A quick glance through the school parking lot confirmed your suspicions too; Jake’s car was the only one still parked in its usual spot. And while you weren’t any different from most people, you were unique in the sense that you witnessed your ex-crush and current crush almost fight to the death before the game. You didn't want to jump to any conclusions, but one thing was for sure; you needed to know if Jake Sim was okay. 

You run up to the boy’s locker room, finally stopping to catch your breath. Almost immediately, you hear the rush of water; the only thing uttering a sound within a 10 meter radius. You hesitate, but remember that, with Jake’s car being the only one in the barren parking lot, you were at high odds of finding him. Still, fear lines each of your steps as you tippy-toe into the tiled floor. 

Fully emerging yourself into the room, your ears que into the rush of water finally stopping. After a series of rustles, with a few pauses here and there, you hear the metal clanks of a curtain being pushed. You freeze, fear churning in your core. This was anything but a good idea. Quickly, you turn around, opting to text him instead. 

“y/n?”

Fuck. 

You turn around, gulping at the sight of a certain shirtless figure. A towel draped over his head and a pair of joggers hugged his waist. He lifted a hand and tossed the towel around, drying his hair as he trudged to his locker. You couldn’t help but stare like a deer in headlights. Jake Sim sure knew how to make an entrance.

“Are you even allowed to be here?”

“Uh… no one caught me?”

Silence befell the two of you as Jake threw a shirt on, calming your heart down just a little bit. You clear your throat. “I, uh, saw what happened down there. Before the game.”

Jake shined a somber grin. “Yeah, figured everyone did.”

“Are you okay?”

Jake refused to look you in the eyes. “Yeah, don’t worry about it.” The athlete gathered his belongings, throwing his bag over his shoulders. “And good luck with Yeonjun. I tried my best.”

“What are you talking about?”

Jake pursed his lips. He paused before huffing a sigh, his silence holding your attention firm in its grasp. “I, uh—for the past few weeks, I’ve been trying to make you avoid him. Distract you from him so you’d lose feelings. But apparently he likes you back, so I’ll just back off. Sorry for lying to you all this time.”

You gape at the golden retriever. It all made sense now. Tutoring for math class was just a cover up. As you reach your epiphany, you notice Jake was already halfway out of the locker room, and your body dashes towards him. It was as if Jake was your puppet master, and you were a puppet pulled by his string. “Wait! Jake!” 

Jake turned his head back to you, sadness pulling his frame further and further into the ground. 

“I don’t like Yeonjun anymore!” You blurt out, a rush squabbling your mind. You weren’t tired from your run anymore, but you noticed how fast your heart was beating. How shallow your breaths became. How hot your skin felt, despite the cloudy weather. Only Jake Sim made you feel this way. “I-I actually like someone else, now.”

Jake cocked an eyebrow. “Who?”

“Well…” You inch forward, the gap between the two of you shrinking. You fiddle with your fingers, heat rising to your cheeks. Your stomach began to flutter the closer you got to him. “He’s very good at soccer, pretends he’s bad at math, and has the dumbest smile, ever.”

Jake’s jaw was practically grazing the ground. His limbs; frozen beyond repair. It was as if you were speaking French to him, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. You dipped your head, eyes meeting the floor. “I like you, Jake.”

The cruel hit of reality crushed your shoulders; you sounded insane. Your eyes spilled from their sockets, your airways collapsing before you could take a breath. Why on earth did you say that!? Your heartbeat was pounding in your ears, your head spinning. Fear shot down your spine as your temple sweated bullets. Instinctively, you throw up your hands and wave around like a maniac. Fanning away your lunacy as if it were smoke from a charred grill. You wince, not even bearing to watch Jake’s most definite disgusted reaction. 

“Fuck—wait—did I say that out loud? I didn’t mean it in that way—or I did but—okay, uh, just pretend I didn’t say anything—”

“Shut up, dummy.”

3 words. Only 3 words were said before Jake kissed you. 

It was swift; the act of slinging your figure closer to him, an arm cupping your waist tightly. Jake used his other hand to cup your face, his eyebrows furrowing in a sense of impatience. He leaned into your figure, practically dipping you like two dancers in the night. Your stomach was flipping in on itself, turning inside out each second of that breathtaking kiss. With your body practically stunned to its core, all you could do was grab onto the collar of his shirt. And did you ever grip; your knuckles growing white from the pressure. Your heart was beating rampantly, you could practically see stars spinning above you. Were you dreaming?

“I-I like you, too.” Jake barely reached a whisper as the two of you finally pulled away. It was funny, it was as if he didn’t just kiss your brain into pieces. His head dipped down, turning red and timid. “I think I liked you for a while now, I just too dumb to admit it.”

You send him a swift peck on the cheek, your grin never leaving your face. “I guess we’re just a couple of dummies, huh.”

Jake kisses you back, his grin now growing bigger and bigger. It was good to have your golden retriever back. “I guess so.”

…

“y/n I swear to god,” Jake mutters through his teeth as he stands before you, and the glaring elephant in the room; you were wearing his soccer jersey, and he had a game in T-minus 4 hours. The very stressed athlete rubbed his temples as he watched you, doing everything in your power to not give it back. Jake was swimming in a sea of frustration, and it certainly didn’t help that you looked absolutely adorable in the oversized article of clothing. “Please, just give it back?”

Like a stubborn child, you ran behind the couch, keeping your distance from your stressed boyfriend. You hugged your chest, sticking your tongue out at him before running off again. “You’re gonna have to come and get it yourself, big boy!”

“You’re really gonna test me?” Jake laid a hand on his hip, watching you run off into the kitchen. 

“Come and catch me!!” You taunted him, not ready for what your boyfriend had in store. 

Jake chased you further into the kitchen, cornering you between the two sides of the kitchen counter. You froze in fear, the only thing you were capable of doing was hug your chest further; hiding the jersey from Jake’s grasp. But it was no use. Jake pried open your shield in a matter of seconds, enveloping you in a tight—maybe too tight—hug. Jake snuggled into you, his face delving deep into the crevice of your neck. You were helpless, defeated. Jake sighe, the warmth of his breath clouding on the skin of your neck.

“What am I gonna do with you, sweets?”

…

[cialovesklopp]

𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — where several articles question the absence of amara imani and where the singer has gone, after hiding because of all the bad news and scandals

masterlist

taglist: @lorarri @locedes @aechii @Ippi_d

SHE IS BACK! After a long hiatus from the public eye, lasting a year and more, the queen of pop & rnb is back and making headlines again. And we can all be sure, she’s got a lot to tell.

Via photo dump on her instagram account, the singer announced her highly anticipated return, sending shockwaves and creating chaos on platforms like Twitter, TikTok and Instagram. The singer also hinted at the arrival of new music, up roaring her entire devoted fan base.

She also announced the coming of two new songs — a collaborations with pop singer Ariana Grande as well as her own single.

Her sudden disappearance from the spotlight did not come unexpected after the whole cheating scandal with ex-boyfriend Evan Henderson. Humiliation and Defamation had pushed the 24 year old to leave the music business and take a very needed pause as it seems, reading from her instagram post.

The thought of Amara stepping back onto the stage has not only fans on the edge of their seats. Everyone who is someone in the music business is anticipating her return especially because of the big hole she left. And let’s not forget, that Imani did not contradict any statements her ex-boyfriend Evan Henderson had dropped about her. So the question is of course, whether she accepts those allegations made about her or whether this will turn into the next star he said - she said.

Last time Amara Imani dropped a single was over two years ago, so of course her whole fan base is awaiting her return with impatience. Whether those songs will be about her ex-boyfriend, stepping into the shoes of Taylor Swift and mentor Beyonce or about her own self-growth, only time will tell. So stay tuned as the music world braces for the return of Amara Imani.

𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐌

amara.imani

liked by liyah.clark, arianagrande and 14.346.907 others

amara.imani in my head — out soon

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arianagrande

liked by amara.imani, selenagomez and 5.819.092 others

arianagrande thank u, next 💋 official release soon @amara.imani

view all 39.405 comments

amara.imani 💋

arianator1 why am i kind of excited for this

imani_gossippage i feel the evan slander incoming

amara_imani_fan WE USED TO PRAY FOR TIMES LIKE THIS

amara_im123 mother is blessing us with three new songs

amaraimani_updates can’t wait to listen to this masterpiece

butera.stan the fact that ariana is willing to come out from her music pause just for amara

honeymoon_ari but also why does this song sound so passive agressive

amaraxgrande FR we’re def getting a boss bitch track

liyah.clark

liked by amara.imani, charles_leclerc and 2.046.837 others

liyah.clark visiting my bestie in parisss (and treating her to dinner because she’s about to slay and enter her revenge era) @amara.imani

view all 56.201 comments

charles_leclerc mon angé 😍

liyah_clark baby 🫶🏾

lordperceval16 ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

leclerc_lover I THINK THIS IS HIS NEW GIRLFRIEND

charles_updates guessing from his comment, i think the rumours are true

amara.imani why didn’t you post the other pictures

liyah.clark i didn’t look good in them

cl16stan are we really sure she is dating him? like she is way above his league

liked by charles_leclerc and 370 others

maxverstappen1 no way this is his new girlfriend? i don’t believe him

landonorris maybe he paid her @liyah.clark you can tell us how much he is paying you

liyah.clark OMG I KNOW YOU @maxverstappen you’re the one who looks like that ice age character and @landonorris you’re driving that Lego car

danielricciardo yep, she’s definitely dating him

graceywood where was my invite??

liyah.clark you didn’t pick up, you were too busy sleeping

carlossainz55 nice to finally meet the girl charles’ been talking my ear off the entire time

charles_leclerc thx for exposing me mate

liyah.clark aww nice to meet you too chili

lewishamilton nice to put a face to the name, wishing you and charles the best for your relationship

liyah.clark i think i just died, thank you sir 🥹

𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐚.𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 3𝐡 𝐚𝐠𝐨

@k.mbappé reacted to your story

k.mbappé rehearsing my song, right?

amara.imani patience is a virtue kyky

k.mbappé the make-out sessions we have whenever i come home from training beg to differ

amara.imani je te jure, je vais te bloquer un jour — I swear, i’ll block you one day

amara.imani and don’t act as if you hate them <3

𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐌

amara.imani

liked by donatellaversace, liyah.clark and 17.864.325 others

amara.imani project nr. 2 — happy to announce my new collaboration with @versace. i am very excited to be chosen to portray this beautiful line and am honored of being a part to its creation. it’s a dream come true for me to co-design my first collection next to @donatella_versace and the entire team. thank you so much for giving me this chance 🤎

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the comments on this post are limited

liyah.clark i’m so excited for this to drop

versace 🤎

selenagomez congratulations, this looks amazing

graceywood in love with this collection @amara.imani i’m so proud of you

donatella_versace this was all you sweetie, you are now officially a versace member. this collection is a creation of love, friendship and passion for fashion

amara_imaniupdates this is so gorgeous, like drop-dead gorgeous

amy_imani you showed them what you were capable, that even with all the people who dropped you, you’re still able to rise

cynthia_e most beautiful thing you ever designed sis, proud to call myself your sister everyday and watching you rise and rise higher

beyoncé congrats, you’re showing them who’s on top

dualipa welcome to the family gorgeous, i still remember my first collection 🤎

imani_forever amara is THE moment, like we’re all begging to be her

[btshoseong]

[EXCLUSIVE] BTS's Se3oul Spotted in Candid Outing with Mystery Backup Dancer

2023.06.13 밤 08:43 | 2023.06.13 밤 08:43

In a captivating revelation that has sent shockwaves through the K-pop community, Dispatch has obtained exclusive images of BTS's Se3oul, affectionately known as Hoseong, engaged in what appears to be a casual rendezvous with a new backup dancer. This unexpected encounter unfolded during a relaxed outing in a public space, leaving fans and industry insiders alike buzzing with speculation regarding the true nature of their relationship.

The images, captured discreetly by our vigilant sources, depict Hoseong and the unidentified dancer navigating a public space with remarkable ease. What stands out is the genuine laughter shared between them, creating an atmosphere of warmth and familiarity. The pair even took a moment to grab a drink, further fueling speculation about the depth of their connection.

Despite the inherently public setting, Hoseong and the backup dancer exhibited a closeness that has prompted fervent discussions within the fandom. Questions about whether their relationship extends beyond the professional realm have flooded social media, propelling this revelation into the spotlight.

As of now, the agency representing BTS has maintained a cryptic silence on the matter, neither confirming nor denying the speculations surrounding Hoseong and his mysterious companion. This lack of an official statement adds an intriguing layer to the unfolding narrative, leaving fans eagerly anticipating further developments.

The Dispatch team remains committed to unraveling the mystery behind this rendezvous, providing our readers with exclusive insights and updates. Stay tuned as we delve deeper into the evolving story of BTS's Se3oul and the enigmatic backup dancer, shedding light on the secrets hidden within these captivating images.

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[electronic-elevator]

Omovember Day 3: On public transportation

prompt list • my fills

Non-fandom, 3rd POV, femdom vibes. Outdoor wetting.

His bladder, as full as it was, made each little rattle of the train reverberate through him, intensifying his desperation even further. He struggled to keep his mouth shut — it was bad enough that he want to beg, but they were in public, so all he could do was lean his head on his partner’s shoulder and hope that his jacket was hiding the way he was squeezing himself indecently. He wanted nothing more than to be good for her, but he was nearing his limit. He felt impossibly full.

Though he couldn’t beg her verbally, his pleading eyes told the whole story. She held his hand and kissed his head. His world was in her hands, at the moment: She’d told him when he was no longer allowed to use the toilet, and had told him how much to drink while they were out. Now she was responsible for getting him home safely, and for whether or not he’d be given a chance to stay dry.

The other travelers, at least, were lost in their own worlds — not that he could take much comfort. He felt like there was a spotlight on him — like anyone could see the ocean of liquid he was straining to hold back, and how it was making him feel.

—

They finally reached their stop, and he stood, biting back a moan as he lost control for just a moment — just long enough for a gush of hot piss to soak his underclothes. He forced himself back under control, rushing off the train. Each step sent a shockwave through him; the pressure was so much more intense now that he was standing.

He was so focused on every heightened sensation that the world around him faded; he simply followed his partner blindly. Their apartment was 10 minutes away normally, but with his steps constrained by his need, it would take longer.

It was late, and as soon as the noise of the train pulling away faded, it seemed they were alone.

His partner leaned in, her warm breath curling against his ear. “Piss yourself,” she said, and he took no further coaxing — he let himself go, the built-up flood releasing into his underclothes, soaking them in a mere moment and overflowing to his jeans. The dark streaks glistened in the dim light cast off by streetlamp and it felt so good that he did moan. His knees went weak and all he could do was piss and breathe; he clutched his partner’s hand like a lifeline.

As the torrent slowed, he looked at the ground below them. He’d made a sizable wet patch. It flowed to the edge of the sidewalk, dripping into the street. If anyone came by after them, they’d surely notice, although they may not guess exactly what had happened there.

“Good boy,” his partner whispered. “Let’s get you home so I can give you your reward.”

[fifteenminutes-if]

THE RECLUSIVE SOCIALITE

MATEO ROHAAN EL AMRANI ◦ 25 ◦ M ◦ he/him The El Amrani family name is synonymous with old money and power. Having produced the likes of Dalia El Amrani (renowned actress), Omar El Amrani (legendary director), and Mateo's own older brother, philanthropist and actor, Elias El Amrani, the surname is cemented in the very foundations of Hollywood. Perhaps that is where the media's obsession with Mateo stems from—he is the antithesis to his family. Known to evade the spotlight, he nonetheless has his own cult following. He is rumoured to be aloof, cold-hearted, and a great lay (according to an unverified source), but having been acquainted with Mateo through Elias, you know this couldn't be further from the truth. Mateo is kind-hearted with a wicked sense of humour that is only apparent when he's away from the strained, often loveless, gaze of his family. There is an air of melancholia to him that he can never quite manage to shake off. A death within the El Amrani family sends shockwaves through the world and brings Mateo back into your life once more. Do you rekindle an old relationship with all its baggage or let the ghosts rest in the past you've longed to bury? NOTE: you can choose to have been acquaintances, friends, or lovers with Mateo in the past. He is greysexual.

Appearance: With smooth tawny skin, deep set hazel eyes, and an artfully messy head of raven curls, Mateo is a dreamy sight to behold—or so he's told daily by his ardent fans on every single social media platform he owns. The beginnings of crow's feet are visible at the outer corners of his eyes and he's been blessed with his mother's strong, roman nose. Mateo can often be found in expensive pea coats, loose button downs, and crisp trousers. He likes to keep it clean, simple, and stylish. He wears a signet ring engraved with his family crest.