#Wooden Decking Opportunity

[karan777]

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Welcome Home, Rooster Bradshaw.

summary: It's been a long six months away from home for Bradley, and you're going to give him the welcome you both deserve.

a/n: ignore that this gif is from the offer, ok? It fits the vibe.

pairing: bradley bradshaw x reader

warnings/content: masturbation (m), facesitting, p in v, creampie, dirty talk, bradley's a vocal lover, praise kink.

word count: 3k

taglist: @nouis-bum @floydsmuse @mamachasesmayhem @avengersfan25 @jessicab1991 @atarmychick007 @b-bradshaw @djs8891 @fall-winter-heart97 @primroseluna @silversprings-mp3 @drxgxnslxyer @gardenavenue

Two more days.

Two more days until Bradley could see your face in person again. Two more days until he could be home and in his own space. 

Bradley let out a heavy, tired sigh, reaching his hand under his pillow. He pulled out the picture of you that he’d brought with him on deployment, tracing over your image with his fingers gently. The picture’s edges were becoming curled, worn from being tucked into flight helmets and under pillows, clutched in sweating, sometimes shaking palms, lips pressed to it in a tender kiss on occasion. He admired the photo, he’d taken it on a date you went on before he left. 

His dad’s well-loved Polaroid camera, left to him as a kid, in hand, he’d taken you to Mission Beach for the day, wanting to have the full tourist experience with you before he got shipped to the middle of the Pacific again. He found a store in Coronado that sold film for vintage cameras, building up a small stockpile for himself. He’d given you a full photoshoot that day — pictures snapped at every opportunity. Watching planes fly over head, playing games in the arcade, rides on the wooden rollercoaster, rock climbing, lunch dates, mini golf, and rock climbing. He’d snapped a couple of you in your sundress, smiling sweetly at him for the camera, your hair flowing in the warm Pacific breeze. 

This photo, however, was the one of you laughing on the beach, your baby blue two-piece swimsuit on, the high-waisted bottoms hugging your curves, the coordinating blue top cupping your breasts in a way that pushed them upever so slightly. He could practically hear your laugh whenever he looked at it, and it made his heartache that little bit more each time. 

“Fuck," he muttered to himself, sighing again as he looked around the bunk. 

Jake was on deck for the night, leaving Bradley with the shared space all to himself for at least a couple of hours. He laid back on his bed, tugging his grey sweatpants down off his hips. He spat into his free hand, using it to stroke his cock in a slow, steady pace, your photograph in his other hand, eyes fixed on your figure as he masturbated. 

Fuck, he missed you. 

He shut his eyes, picturing you as he continued to stroke himself, seeing the facial expression you made whenever you rode him, eyes shut with ecstasy, tits bouncing up and down, hips moving, hands pressed to his chest. The mental image alone was almost enough to drive him over the brink. He let out a deep grunt as he finished, your name escaping him in a soft moan. 

Two days couldn’t come soon enough. 

When he finally got home, Bradley was exhausted. The time difference had caused him more jet lag than it usually did, not that he was sleeping well without you to begin with. He never did. He’d landed earlier than anticipated, coming home a day before he was expected. He unlaced his standard issue boots, kicking them off at the door before heading directly to the laundry room. Stripping clean from his uniform, he tossed it into the washing machine, desperate for a shower and fresh, comfortable clothes.

With a dry towel wrapped around his waist, he bounded up the wooden stairs to the main bathroom. He dropped the towel as he turned the shower on, sighing happily as he stepped into the warm water, letting it wash over him for a minute, enjoying one of the first comforts of being home for the first time in six months. 

Stepping out of the tower, he quickly dried himself off and wrapped his towel back around his waist before heading down the hall to the bedroom. Everything was neatly pulled together — freshly laundered sheets on the bed that still smelled like your favourite detergent, his clothes neatly put away for him, fresh flowers sat in a vase on your nightstand, and a new book sat on his, with a note card placed on top. 

B, I saw this the other day at that cute little bookstore on Orange Ave. It made me think of you. I thought you’d like to read it now that you’ll have a little down time. - Love, your girl. Xo

Bradley felt his heart swell as he read your neatly printed note. He picked the book up, scanning the cover with a soft smile before setting it back down. A true crime book about a case in a podcast he’d mentioned in one of his emails home — it was perfect. God, you were perfect.

He tugged a clean white t-shirt over his head before reaching into his dresser for clean boxer briefs and a pair of well-loved denim shorts that were beginning to fray around the cuffs from being worn so frequently. Bradley looked out the bedroom window at the landscape, happy to finally be home. He’d missed all the little things while he was gone — the palm trees, the smell of those little laundry scent beads you swore by, your coordinating body wash, shampoo and conditioner that you insisted on buying for him when you’d learned he’d been coasting through life for 37 years with a 3-in-1 bottle — almost as much as he’d missed you. 

Downstairs in the kitchen, he got to work crafting himself the sandwich to top all sandwiches. He was starving, and after months of bland, unexciting meals on board an aircraft carrier, all he wanted was comfort food. With his turkey club piled high and a glass bottle of Coke from Mexico in hand, he settled into his favourite chair and began to enjoy himself until you came home from work.

When you did come home, you heard the faint sound of voices coming from the back of the house. You dropped your bag at the front door, running through the house so quickly, you’d forgotten to take your shoes off. In the living room sat Bradley, in his favourite, well-loved chair, dozing as sports highlights played in the background, a plate with remnants of a sandwich and a half-finished bottle of Coke sat on the table beside him. 

You leaned in, pressing your lips to his forehead as you stroked his curls, breathing in the smell of his shampoo. He was finally home.

Bradley’s eyes fluttered open, a smile forming on his lips as he wrapped his arms tightly around you, his nose pressed to your neck as you settled into his lap. 

“Missed you,” he murmured against your skin, peppering you with kisses.

“Missed you more, B,” you echoed as you raked your fingers through his hair. 

“God, I missed you so much, honey. This might have been the hardest trip away from you yet.” 

Bradley’s hands rested firmly on your hips as his lips wandered down your neck to your collarbone. He mumbled against your skin, shoving the strap of your tank top down off of your shoulder. His teeth grazed at your exposed, sun kissed skin, causing you to let out a gasp. 

“Bradley!” you squealed, laughing as his deep brown eyes looked at you, taking in the sight of your face again. 

“Mhmm, I missed that laugh of yours,” he hummed, his large hands moving to cup your breasts. “I’ve missed these tits of yours too.”

“I bet you have, were Jake’s not doing it for you?” you teased.

Bradley scoffed as he pulled your tank top off over your head, tossing it off to somewhere in the void across the room. With one hand snaked around your back, he unfastened your bra in one fluid motion, discarding it to the floor. He grinned at you before pressing his mouth back to your collarbone, thumbs tracing circles over your nipples as they pebbled at his touch.

“No, one’s could do it for me like yours do, honey, you know that. Look at you. So pretty for me. My girl’s always looking pretty, ain’t she?” he purred between kisses to your breasts. 

“Bradley,” you laughed, shaking your head, “This is what you want now that you’re finally home?”

“I’ve been wantin’ this since about two hours after I left, six months without you has been torture. I contemplated quitting when I came home. I thought about faking an injury so they’d discharge me. I tried thinking up a thousand ways to come home early — all of them bad.” He nodded, as he looked up at you, hands still cupping your tits. 

“Mhmm, you thought about quitting for me? That’s not the Bradley Bradshaw I know.”

“I swear, honey, this time…this time was harder than usual.”

“Well, I’m all yours now,” you nodded, your hand stroking his cheek. 

Bradley hummed to himself, tilting his head to the side as he thought for a minute. He looked at you, watching as you bit your lower lip. The sight of you alone after so much time apart was enough to make him hard, but now it was becoming unbearable. He needed you. He craved you. 

“Upstairs, now,” he urged, nodding his head as you got off his lap.

You grinned to yourself as you headed up the stairs, walking just slowly enough to your bedroom so Bradley could catch the way your hips swayed with every step, your taut ass bouncing with each movement. It was enough to drive any man insane, but Bradley could barely contain himself. 

Fuck, he missed you.

He pushed you on to the bed, crawling on all fours as he hovered over your body with a wide grin plastered to his face. You placed a hand on his chest, steadying him as your smile faltered for a second. You held your breath for a moment before exhaling, nodding slowly as Bradley sat back on his knees for a minute. 

“Go easy on me, big guy, it’s been a long six months, I’m out of practice,” you teased, grinning at him.

“Shoot, honey, I thought you were gonna tell me you didn’t want me to-never mind, I’ll go easy on ya. I always do, don’t I?”

“Roo, you do the exact opposite of going easy.” You grinned, rolling your eyes at Bradley. 

Bradley repositioned himself over your body, smirking as he took in the sight of you again. His lips began trailing down your abdomen your shorts, sending chills running up and down your spine with every breathy kiss, every drag of his mustache against your skin. With a skillful hand, he popped the button on your shorts open, sitting up as he pulled them off of you. He hooked two fingers into the crotch of your lace trimmed underwear, shoving them out of the way as he ducked his head between your thighs. Feather-light kisses dotted your inner thighs before his mouth found your core. He flattened his tongue against your slit, running it up your folds slowly as he savoured everything he’d missed for the last six months. 

“Just as pretty as I remember it, fuck.”

His fingers spread your folds apart, giving him better access to your clit. The tip of his tongue traced shapes along it, pressing varying degrees of pressure into you, the tip of his nose pressing into your puffy cunt, swollen from how badly you’d been wanting him for the last six months. He mumbled something against your skin, his lips vibrating against your clit as he pressed another kiss to you. He sat himself up fully, smirking at you.

“Get up, pretty girl, I have an idea.”

You let out a whine in protest, sitting up on the bed as Bradley now laid down on his back. Shooting him a look, you raised your palms in protest, shaking your head at him.

“Bradley, you seriously stopped so I would give it to you instead?”

“What? No,” Bradley laughed, shaking his head as he gestured to his face. “Take a seat.”

“You want me to…?”

Bradley lifted his head up off the pillow, giving you a lustful stare, his eyebrows knitting together as he nodded his head. “Did I stutter? Take. A. Seat.”

You rolled your eyes, giving your head a shake as you slipped out of your underwear, dropping them to the floor. Climbing back on to the bed, you hovered yourself above Bradley’s mouth, looking down at him as you chewed on your lip. He shook his head, his mustache tickling at your inner thigh as he kissed up your leg. In one swift motion, he gripped your thighs tightly, pulling you down until his lips were directly under your dripping core, smirking as he murmured against your skin again. 

“That’s my girl. I’ve missed this pussy so fuckin’ much.” He grunts, nodding his head slightly as he buries his tongue into you, nose pressed to your clit. 

“Bradley!” you whimper, your eyes fluttering shut as you reached down, fingers tugging on his dark curls.

Bradley’s tongue worked into you at a breakneck speed, so fast that you wondered how he was able to breathe. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, blunt fingernails digging into your soft skin as he held you in place. His mouth worked on you relentlessly, refusing to let up until he had you a screaming, crying, pretty little mess, just how he (and you) liked it. 

“Bradley, Bradley, Bradley,” you babbled, unable to say anything other than his name as his tongue fucked into you. 

He grunted into your cunt again, mumbling words of praise into your skin. “Tastes so fuckin’ sweet, honey, so fuckin’ sweet.” He growled before delving his tongue into you again.

Your thighs began to shudder and shake, spasming as you felt your orgasm hit you harder than ever before. You shut your eyes, tears stinging as Bradley continued, not breaking his rhythm once as you came, his tongue quickly lapping at your arousal hungrily. He moved his mouth up to your clit, kissing at it with a couple of powerful sucks before pulling his mouth away. He let go of your thighs, a couple of darker marks forming on your skin from where he got carried away, gripping you a little too tightly. You got up, sitting on the bed, panting as you tried to find your mental clarity again. 

Bradley rolled onto his side and surveyed your thigh, pressing gentle kisses to the darkened marks on your skin in apology. Once you found your words again, his big brown eyes looked up at you from where he was laying on the bed. 

“Roo,” you nodded, placing a hand on his cheek, “I missed you so much.”

“I missed ya too, honey. Ain’t done with ya yet though.”

With that, Bradley quickly shimmied out of his denim shorts and boxers, kicking them off clumsily. He crawled across the bed, finding the spot between your thighs. His hands smoothed over your legs, lifting them up and hoisting them up onto his shoulders. You curved your knees around him as he aligned his hardened cock with your entrance, easing into you with a soft groan. 

“That’s my girl, taking me so well. You missed this cock, didn’t you? Missed me fillin’ ya up, huh, pretty girl?” He purred, pausing as he felt your walls stretching around him. 

“Yes, baby,” you nodded, whining as he stretched you. 

God, he was right. You did miss him. You missed him more than you wanted to let on, you missed his presence, his voice, the silly things he’d do that pissed you off, you missed the way he made love to you, passionate and caring, full of praise, making it his life’s mission to make you feel good. He took it as seriously as his work - calculated movements, using the same precision and laser-focus he did in the air.

Your eyelids fluttered shut again as you felt him pull out of you, pushing himself back into you again with a powerful thrust of his hips. Bradley tutted his tongue against the roof of his mouth, refusing to move again. “Nuh-uh, baby girl, keep those pretty eyes on me. Want you lookin’ at me when I fuck you, got it?”

You nodded dumbly as he pounded into your entrance again, making your head spin as your walls clenched around him. He began thrusting into you, starting slowly as he found his rhythm again, savouring every movement, every inch of you that he’d missed over the last six months. Bradley gently pressed his palm into your pubic bone as he thrusted harder, faster into you, the sensation heightening with the added pressure he was giving. You could tell by the knot turning in your stomach that it wasn’t going to be long before you were coming for him again, and if Bradley had his way, it wouldn’t be the last time you did tonight. 

“Feelin’ so fuckin’ good, pretty girl. That’s my girl. That’s my pretty girl,” he praised, his confident demeanor melting away, leaving Bradley a pussy drunk, babbling mess, unable to say anything other than your praises, repeating your name over and over as if it was a spoken prayer.

“‘M not gonna last, honey,” Bradley shook his head as he moaned breathlessly.

Fuck.

His breath hitched in his throat as his hips slowed, stilling as he came inside of you. Bradley let out the deepest grunt you’d ever heard — the past six months of missing you drawing out of him along with it. Ducking his head down as he tried to catch his breath, his curls slicked and stuck to his forehead with sweat, he panted heavily, gently letting your legs go as you dropped them back down to the bed. He looked up at you, deep brown eyes fixed on your features as he nodded breathlessly.

“Fuck, I missed you, honey. I missed this, and you, and home.”

“Welcome home, Rooster. Welcome home.”

[fanaticsnail]

Will You Let Me?

Masterlist Here, Pollen Masterlist Here

Word count: 4,500+

Synopsis: Your crew was docked at a port, exploring a new land while you requested to remain behind. Enjoying being without the unruly bunch, your momentary calm was disrupted by the staggering step of your superior. Coughs, grunts and stuttering over his words: your concern grew more severe as you offered to help him through it.

Themes: pollen!killer x gn!reader, NSFW, mdni, 18+, smut, penetration reader!receiving, swearing, dubcon, begging, pleading, apologising, bruising, crying, rough, do not read if you do not enjoy the trope, fluff at the end, semi-ooc.

Notes: first time writing gn!reader smut! I enjoyed the challenge, but forgive me if there's a word that is used incorrectly! I am still learning inclusive language.

Pollen is a fun trope to play with, but please do not read if you don't enjoy.

Apprehensive Tag List: @sordidmusings @remisloves @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @since-im-already-here @mfreedomstuff @icy-spicy

The hot sun shone over the wooden deck of the Victoria Punk. The soft waves gently rocked the boat with a subtle lull, the screech of gulls only aiding your heart to swell in merry solitude.

It was a rare occasion that you were tasked to remain behind while the crew explored a foreign area. Your skills as a linguistics specialist usually meant your silver tongue was called for to coax a good deal, or to decipher scratchings on cave walls. Considering this area was only a port meant for resupply, Captain Kid deemed your skills unnecessary for the journey in land.

Never one to complain, and genuinely giddy at the notion of being secluded and alone for a change, you jumped at the opportunity to stay with the Victoria Punk. You adored your ship, and decided to utilise the opportunity to check over her planks, ropes, and panels that may be in need for repair.

As the day went on, you did not expect a member of your crew to return so suddenly: especially the hulking masked figure of Massacre Soldier Killer. Being the first-mate, he was usually by Kid's side, no matter the circumstances.

Coughing, sneezing and sputtering: Killer’s right hand shot out to grasp your left shoulder. The firmness of his grip was bordering on painful, prompting you to wince in response to the hard strangulation of flesh.

“Something gross hit me in the face,” he strained from behind the teal and ivory mask, “Stuck in my chest and my throat. Not feeling good. Gotta-... fuck-... I gotta lie down or something.”

Concern and worry knit itself over your face, examining the staggering movement of Killer’s body as he retreated below deck. He stuttered and gripped onto the wooden beams, walls and ceiling to stabilize his movement: his body almost giving way beneath the pressure.

“Kil, do you need-,” you began, halting as his voice raised over the top of yours.

“-‘M fine. D-Don’t worry, ‘kay?” he called over his shoulder before disappearing below deck. His large figure seemed to both be inflated and deflated with a foreign paralysis in his choppy, staggered steps. The waves did nothing to sooth him in his glide throughout the halls.

As soon as he reached crew-quarters, he all but shredded his clothes and cast them away from his body. His skin was alite with violent lust, his hands moving against his will to fist, claw and paw at the erogenous zones of his torso, stomach, legs, and his puckered nipples.

He arched his back as his hands gripped the base of his already steel-like cock, immediately pumping it in his right fist. His left hand clawed at the flesh of his chest and lay flat over his heart as he felt the rise in fluttered rapidity.

Scraping and gripping downwards with his left hand, he pushed hard on the base of his stomach, feeling how tightly wound the banded coil was wound in the pit of his stomach: bound hard enough to snap. Every muscle was tense, firm and aching for relief. He began sniffling and sobbing behind his mask, never truly experiencing the shame in the desperation his body was craving before.

He was the only one who managed to not avoid the hessian bag of powdered flowers falling from the rooftop of the naturopathic remedy building. Apologetic calls echoed down from the roof before panic began to rise in the workers. Killer could scarcely process voices above the throbbing ache in his lower abdomen.

Barely hearing several repetitions of Kid’s voice calling: “Killer, are you alright? Kil, are you alright?” All Killer could do was splutter and cough through the burning in his chest.

Golden flecks danced over his eyes beneath the mask, the pollen sucked immediately through the holes and embedded several clusters within the circular orifices. No matter how many times he wiped at the mask with his hands, he continued to inhale the sticky-sweet smell of herbal flowers within deep gulps of his lungs.

“Get him back home!” a hushed voice hurriedly spat at Captain Kid, “He needs a companion, someone to take care of him while he's going through this. Someone caring and kind enough to-.”

“-Don't tell me what to do! Kil, you know the way back to the ship from here?” Kid’s voice barked at Killer, prompting the blonde to spark a moment of clarity in his progressingly foggy mind, “The linguist is back there. They'll take care of ya’ if ya’ need it, okay?”

“Okay,” Killer managed to stutter out, his body scorching hot and violently in need.

“Okay!” Kid parrotted back, looking at the shopkeeper, “Okay, great. Now that's settled, we need a couple things from you. Let's get that sorted before-."

As Killer continued fisting at his cock, he felt release on the tip of his tongue. His eyes were scrunched tightly shut and his lips were parted wide. Unbeknownst to him, each time he panted through his heavy inhales and exhales; more of the toxic pollen punctured his lungs and poisoned his bloodstream with arousal.

He was consumed with lust, a beast untamed and unbridled. There was no release for him, no relief that came thereafter. He was isolated, confused, scared and manic. He needed something, someone, anyone-.

“-No,” Killer spoke aloud in a strangled whisper, “Not anyone. I need the linguist. I n-need-... fuck-... I need my linguist. Where i-is my linguist?”

Continuing about your task of ensuring all of the ropes were properly coiled and laid, your heart began to pang with guilt. You decided to cast aside all further self-induced tasks and seek out the first-mate you serve beside, attempting to offer him comfort through his illness. He seemed so adamant about isolation, but you felt called to be by his side.

Venturing below deck, his painful strain of wanton moans called to you. Muffled groans of pain exhumed from the room, cries of anguish falling through the door. Your deepest sympathies clawed at you to push through the door. Your hand hesitated it's rise against the wooden panel, your body almost walking away before you heard a gentle and heartfelt cry of your name falling from Killers lips.

“I-If you're there,” Killer’s voice again called for you, “Please come in. Please,” he chanted your name with a soft, strangled moan, “Please. I need you.”

Immediately, your body moved against your will. Twisting the knob to crew quarters, you swung the door wide and was immediately met with the sight of your first mate: glistening in beads of sweat and shed of all but his teal and ivory face covering, and viciously pulling at his cock.

“Killer! Why did you tell me to come in if you were doing that?” you shouted in a harsh whisper, immediately slamming the door shut behind you and scrunching your eyes tightly shut, “I don't want to watch that!”

Thick silence aside from the cruel pistoning of his firm hand slapping against his lower stimach engulfed the air. Soft huffs of muffled pants escaped gritted teeth, Killer's mask doing the heavy lifting in silencing his cries for you.

“I don't want you to watch,” Killer confessed in a soft, breathy whine, “Please don't watch,” he keened for you, “Participate.”

“Killer!” you shot over your shoulder at him with a warning tone, “What are you-?”

“-I would never a-ask if I didn't-...” He trained off in a strangled whimper, desperately clenching down on his tongue with his teeth and biting back his needy sobs, “...I-I need you. I need you. Only you.”

“Kil,” you sighed at him, your concern written over you'd face, “Have you taken something? Was it the gross thing from earlier? Did that have an effect on you? Like a drug-?”

“-Look at me,” a barked command exited the holes in the mask, “Please, look at me,” he pleaded, gasping as he grasped at his cock, fisting the flesh and whimpering as he was brought to the brink of ecstacy once again, “Just look at me, please. I just need your eyes on me. Eyes on me.”

“Killer,” you whimpered, finally turning to face him. As soon as your eyes met with the icy stare beneath his mask, you were entranced. Your body propelled you against forward, called to serve the needs of the first mate in a hypnotic trance.

“I need you,” he sobbed, reaching for you with his left hand as his right continued beating his weeping cock, “Only you. Please, let me have you?”

Your body continued reacting against your will, your brain becoming foggy as Killer’s lust thickened the air with all-consuming need. Shame coursed just as heavily throughout your body as the arousal at just the thought of taking Killer’s cock into you began coursing through your veins.

“Please,” he whined, his eyes holding your own as you stripped yourself of your clothes, “Please,” his lips spilt as you straddled his lap, “Please,” as you immediately began sinking yourself down over the tip of his knob.

His precum did little to prepare you your your descent, focussing on your wanton need to have him within you to open your body up to receive him. Killer moaned your name, crying out with baited breath as you slowly consumed all of his length with the grip of your tight hole.

As soon as he felt your heat take his entire length, he was already a babbling mess. There was no strings of cohesive thought as his length became strangled within your tight center. He immediately began shooting your body full of ropes of thick release, ribbon after ribbon of his pale translucent ecstasy.

He cried out for you in warning before painting your walls white with his sticky cum. The pearly beads of his lust coated your tight hole immediately, strings of praise falling from his lips as he rode through his high with you fully impaled on his thick cock.

But he remained firm, hard and desperate for more.

“Wha-...” he began, his understanding of his own arousal and relief not aiding him in the slightest as he thrust up into you. He moaned as he sheathed his lengthy shaft deep within you again, your own arousal now taking over as you started to roll your hips against him while sat fully engulfed by him.

“Killer, what's going on?” you questioned him, your confusion and worry knit on your face, “You're s-still hard.”

“I-I am,” he confirmed, a soft mewl of bliss echoed beneath his mask as he rolled his hips up into you, “What’s happening to me?”

His hands found your hips, rocking you above him as he began feeling another wave of need course through his veins. As his hands embedded into your hips, you winced at the sting. His strength depicted in his grasp, gripping you like a lifeline anchoring himself to the world surrounding him.

He tried.

He tried so hard to be gentle.

He wanted to be gentle for you. Needed to be gentle for you.

But his grip turned sinister, turned brutal and unforgiving as he thrust up into you. His end was coming to a close as he chased it with you writhing and pleading on his lap. His desperation enticed him to continue bullying your tight center with vicious snaps of his bruising slaps.

“Kil,” you called for him, feeling his cock touch a depth within you that had your back arching and mewling for him, “Oh, Kil. I'm close.”

“Please,” he begged, desperately thrusting up into your lap as his end stampeded before his eyes, “Please cum. Please. N-Need it.”

“Killer,” you called for him, feeling the band weave ever tighter within your abdomen, spiraling and coiling within the pit of your stomach, “Kil I'm gonna-.”

“-Oh, fuck!” he roared, his body immediately betraying him as he coated your insides with ropes of hot, sticky, and heavy cum for the second time. His balls sucked up inside his body, his entire being screaming in relief as his release was once again began satisfying his unbridled lust for you.

But his cock still remained firm.

Your eyes clenched firmly shut, the corners wincing at the slight pinch as the coil snapped deep within you. White-hot ecstacy coursed through your veins, your body releasing your bliss over yours, and Killers, bodies as you rode through your high seated on his lap.

His hands were firm, rocking you atop him with a guiding, harsh rhythm as you called his name. Your whole being was alight with passion, your eyes now opening and looking down at the man beneath you.

Killer didn't realize it until he felt his eyes roll back in his skull, his body immediately ushered into a third orgasm as your body milked him with the rhythmic thumps of your warm orgasm. But he still remained firm, hard and needy. He inhaled a deep, shaky breath: particles of pollen immediately spiraling in a cylindrical vacuum deep into his lungs.

“I c-can’t,” Killer called for you, immediately grappling you in his arms. He threw you beneath him, his vice-grip clawing at your hips as he pummeled down into your body, “I can't stop, I can't stop, I can't stop.”

You bit back a whimper, your body barely recovering from the prior spend of your hot release. Overstimulated, ill-prepared and encumbered with your new task at hand: Massacre Soldier Killer never let up. Not even for a moment.

In fact, he only got more intense, ferocious and brutal the moment your body began to milk his cock.

“P-Please know I'm sorry,” he choked out a strangled whimper. His fingers ached with the intensity he was gripping onto you with, leaving punctures of purple intents over your hip bones due to the butality he was burrowing into you.

“O-Oh fuck,” you sucked in your bottom lip, biting down hard as the corners of your eyes began pricking with tears, “It's okay, it's okay. I know. I can t-take it.”

You spoke through those words of confirmation, truly attempting to convince yourself of the ability to endure this rough treatment for as long as Killer needed to use your body for. Rough slaps of his hips smacked against your body, his veiny cock scraping itself through your body as his knob hit angles you didn't realize you could experience. It would equate to bliss if his grip wasn't so intense.

Excruciating agony and white-hot ecstacy were in a perfect marriage within your body beneath the hulking form of Massacre Soldier Killer. The harmonious entanglement driven further by the grunts, growls, roars from the man above you, only for them to turn into begging whimpers and pleas for you to endure just a moment longer.

“I kn-know this isn't-... f-fucking nnghm-... this isn't g-good for you,” his breathy whisper cut through his growls like a pick through ice, “I can't stop. I can't fucking stop.”

“It's okay, Kil. I p-promise it's okay,” you grit your teeth as his grip intensified on your hips, "You're good. You're b-being so good." His rhythm was unforgiving, the pace and rate his body rut into you was tormenting, brutal and punishing.

This was not the first-mate you knew. The beast in his stead was as violent as Killer was in battle, ripping bones and slashing through flesh. This was not at all what you anticipated from aiding Killer through this feat of lust.

His desperation was abhorrent, something he was repulsed by. He never dreamed of joining his body with yours in this strenuous and savage manner. He wanted to be kind, always kind, only ever kind, should you grant him the access to you he so desperately longed for from afar.

Softly spoken, dutiful and almost loving. That's who you knew him to be, and that's who he wanted to be for you. Your friend, your comrade in arms, your senior serving crewmate who you trusted to have your back.

How would you ever trust him again after this? How could he ever trust himself? That push and pull of chasing his relief with you caged beneath him coincided with the tug of his heart and the fog of his mind. He wants you to trust him after this. He wants you to look him in the eye and tell him you still want him. He needed that from you; the confirmation this was not only simply for now, but something he could have once again.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” he sobbed into your neck, the cool surface of his mask grounded you. Huffs of his breath poked through the holes in his mask, his icy-blue eyes were scrunched tightly shut while his body remained alight like a beacon in darkness.

He had already reached his climax three times, shooting burst after burst of his sticky cum deep within you. Although relief was found immediately afterwards, his cock continued to remain stiff as the steel of a blade in a snow storm.

He just couldn't stop. Why couldn't he stop?

“Kil, I-I think you n-need-... ahh,” you mewled as he moved his hands up to your waist, his broad fingers splayed out to perch like a bird of prey against your skin. He rammed his full length in and out, your stomach beginning to ache with the bulge protruding deep within your abdomen.

“N-Need you,” he groaned in your ear, his hips stapling you against the floor with each cruel slap, “Need to keep going. Almost th-there again.”

“I know, Kil. I know,” you soothed his hair in your hands, trails of wet tears streaked your cheeks with how much sensations your body was taking, “Take what you need, I'm here.”

“I’m gonna-... I'm gonna- f-fuck. I'm gonna cum again,” he groaned deep within his mask, his voice picking up at the end in a small shuddery whimper, “Oh fuck, oh fuck. I'm cumming.”

Your head rolled back, eyes wide as you felt him empty himself within you for a fourth time. The sticky splashback of his hot cum trickled out of your needy hole, his cock buried up to the hilt with his spend leaking over his pubic hair and thighs. He huffed against your shoulder, his mask almost becoming loose over his face as he recovered.

“Good boy,” you cooed at him, pressing a soft kiss onto his bare shoulder as he shuddered and shook through his fourth spurt of ecstacy, “Good boy, Kil. Get it all out.” His cock twitched at your title bestowment, the hardness of his steely cock refusing to deflate no matter the amount of release he pumped into you.

“I-It’s not going down,” he whimpered into you, his hips beginning to roll against yours once more, “It's not going down. I don't know what to do,” his sobs began to shake at his shoulders.

“It's okay,” you winced out, feeling the heat of release exiting from your overspent body with ooze of fluid, “I-I think you need to take your mask off.”

“Wh-What?” he gasped at you, his hands continuing to hold you firmly against the mattress of his bed, “The mask off?”

“Some-... fuck, Kil-... something hit you in the face, ri-right?” your voice was several notes higher than your usual cadence, crying beneath him as he pummeled into you, “Might be still in your mask. Take it off. I'll close my eyes, I'll not tell a soul,” you winced, clamping your eyes tightly shut, “I'll be good. I'll tell no-one.”

Killer immediately halted his thrusting, his body in momentary stasis as your words reached him. His body screamed at him to keep going, to keep pummeling into you, to keep chasing his high that was just within reach. But he stopped, his cock sheathed deep within you.

“Look at me,” he purred down at you, his hands still firm on your waist. His grip grasped you tighter, misbehaving beneath Killer's pleading to hold you more gently.

Unclenching your scrunched eyes, you gazed up at him as his hands left your body and unclasped the mask from shrouding his face. Icy blue eyes, as pale as the sky and as deep as the ocean pierced you as his gaze met with yours. Your breath was stolen from within your lungs, choking back on your surprise at his appearance.

Massacre Soldier Killer was beautiful.

“Look up at m-me,” he stammered, his hips rolling against yours as his cock burrowed deep within your body, “Look at me. I n-need you to see me. I need you to see how desperately I need you.”

His eyelashes fluttered, his eyelids growing heavy as his rhythmic thrusts began to pick up their intensity. Your eyes never left his for a moment: not to look at his lips, not his beard, nor his angular cheekbones, nor his nose. His eyes were what captivated you most, holding you hostage as their glassy hue glazed over to chase his high within you.

“Y-You were right,” he huffed between thrusts, “My lungs aren't burning, and I-I think this is it. Th-This one is it.” His pace was excruciating, but the satisfaction you were beginning to feel build itself within you screamed at you to let him continue using you.

“You can do it, Kil,” you rolled your hips to match his pace, staring up through half-hooded lashes into his eyes, “Use me. Take me, I'm yours.”

“You're mine,” he moaned his growling voice down at you, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against your neck, “Perfect for me. Made for me.” His cock twitched deep within you, your body reacting to his needy chase and toppling over with his final release.

“F-Fuck, Kil!” you cried, your body beginning to throb, your thumps of bliss coaxing Killers balls to empty deep within, “I-I’m-... I’m cumming. Killer, I'm cumming!”

“Cum with me, cum with m-me,” he begged, his pace picking up as his cock finally began weeping it's spend for the fifth time deep within you, “With me. F-Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Pants of breath, fluttering of elevated heartbeats and joint cries of bliss ricocheted off the wooden walls of the crew-quarters of the Victoria Punk. Killer's mask lay discarded beside the door, lulling in the subtle rock of the waves over the floorboards as you both fell away from your mutual highs.

Killer moved his head away from your shoulder, gazing down to where your bodies remained joined together in awe. His lips were agape, his eyelashes fluttering as he pulled himself away from you. Watching the floodgates open from your abused entrance, your mutual juices coating both of your stomachs, thighs and soaking the mattress beneath you.

Killer looked to your hips, his lips parting and eyes becoming teary as he noticed the damage showcased on your body.

Marks littered your skin, deep hues of purple branded your flesh, depicting Killer's unrestrained lust and need for you. His bliss was eclipsed by deep sorrow as his fingers gently caressed the elevated indents in your skin. Sensing his unease, you immediately flung your hands up and collected his cheeks in your palms.

“I can handle it,” your eyes searched his, looking between his deep, blue orbs with your eyes only depicting support and affection, “I wouldn't have let you do it if I couldn't handle it.”

Killer turned his head, his lips meeting your palm with his whiskered chin tickling your flesh. This small moment of affection felt more sacred, more secret, and more intimate than the emassment of bodily fluids you shared moments prior.

“I shouldn't have been so rough with you,” he scolded himself, “I will never be rough with you again.” His fingertips caressed your hips, soothing over your aching flesh and wordlessly apologizing with deep, intentional touches.

“Are you feeling okay, Kil?” you asked him, lazily cocking your head to the side, “Don't need to go again?”

“Fuck, no,” he huffed through a small, squeak of laughter, “Not right now, at least.”

Smiling up at him, you propped yourself up on your elbows and gazed deeply into his eyes. You couldn't get enough of the luxury it was to gawk at the handsome man who just spent himself within you five times in consecutive succession.

He truly was beautiful.

“Does that mean you want to do this again?” you asked him while attempting to not show how eager you were. You began taking your time to examine his muscular physique before snapping your eyes back up to his blue orbs. A red hue tinted his cheeks, his eyes darting around the room before rejoining your own.

“I would like to, yes,” Killer admitted at last, sucking in a breath as he anticipated your refusal. Your smile spread up your face, prompting you to immediately spring yourself up to meet his body with your own.

“Crew’s still out for a while,” you shrugged, looking around the crew-quarters you had both tainted with the stains of your aroused fluids, “We should clean this up,” you drew your eyes up to meet his, coy and bashful, “And maybe we could have a bath together-?”

“-Please,” he spoke over you, far too quickly for his liking but too lost to hold back the floodgates of emotional excitement, “Let me bathe with you. I'll wash your hair, massage your body. I'll make sure you're so, so spoiled after all this, if you'll let me?”

A small squeal of joy found its way to your lips, buzzing at the notion that he not only wants to be with you again physically, but he desired to treat you to the luxury of continuing to gawk at his uncovered face further by bathing with you.

“Will you let me?” Killer asked, his voice still holding that eager anticipation that caused you to both melt and soar in unison. You eagerly nodded, prompting Killer to hook his arms beneath you and elevate you into his chest.

Your fingers quickly drew themselves up to his lengthy blonde hair, detangling the sweat-damp strands and toying with the soft curls framing his face. You hummed in contentment as his smile freed itself on his face, glancing at you as you continued enjoying his luscious, thick locks.

“Let's go then,” he cooed down at you, his lips finding your forehead as he cradled you against him, “Let me spoil you for being so good to me. I need to treat you right.”

“Don't forget your mask!” you quickly uttered, causing him to pause and search your face for clarification. You smiled at him, gently reaching your lips up to press against his cheek, “Gotta clean the damn thing, unless you want to experience all that again?”

“Good point,” he huffed, using his feet to kick along his mask to the bathroom as he chaperoned you within his arms, “I prefer my own desire to come from me,” he confessed as soon as he reached the door, “And I want to show you how much I truly do desire you.”

“I can't wait,” you smiled in return, wincing as your body’s adrenaline seeped out of your body and the pain caught up to you.

“I promise I'll be gentle with you,” he confessed, his eyes innocent and brows triangulating in a peak in the center of his forehead, “I won't be rough.”

“I can take a bit of rough treatment,” you challenged him in return, smiling into his bare chest as he began to run the bath.

“I know you can,” he smiled down at you, pressing a small kiss against your temple, “But you don't have to, unless you really want to.”

[eelnoise]

incandesce

zoro x afab!reader an: just some lovesick drabble because im weak in the knees for my big stinky boy. he's so cute and i wanna just snuggle w him so bad 🥺 cw: fluff :) wc: 1.1k @bby-deerling @kaizokuniichan @themushroomofdeath

The flash of the morning sun hits Zoro’s face like a white-hot light as he descends from the crow’s nest, freshly exhausted from training. Squinting in the daylight, he looks upon the deck below as it comes into clearer view – silhouettes of the crew fade into focus, and quickly does he scan the scene for a brief headcount. A slight warmth fills his chest, and not from the tide of day washing over the ship.

You’re not among them. You’re still asleep.

Zoro’s boots hit the deck with an audible thud, and heads turn to greet him. He offers a sleepy ‘good morning’ nod before heading right in the direction of the women’s quarters. No one stops him, nor are any words exchanged. They all know where he’s headed, just as they know why you tend to sleep in.

It isn’t often that he gets this opportunity – to join you for a nap. Most days he retires from the watch far earlier than any of the women awake, sometimes avoiding his own bed all together and simply napping in the nest. The odds are in his favor this time, and he means to take full advantage of the very limited time he can have with you. Only you.

No sooner does he creak the wooden door open that his heart skips a beat beneath his ribs. You’re there, just as he hoped you would be, softly snoozing beneath the sheets. Your hair is folded wildly about your face and the pillow beneath your head, and your lips are slightly parted with just a speck of drool glistening down your chin. Zoro can’t help but find you endearing, and seeing you in a deep, restful sleep does something to soften his stoicism. 

He almost can’t bring himself to wake you, as the sudden shift on the mattress always causes you to stir – though you’re never soured by it. Never once do you make him feel unwanted or loathsome, always welcoming into your arms or by your side when he needs you most.

And, while not the most affectionate man, Zoro relishes in the love you give him. The good-willed and honest devotion that you deem him worthy enough to receive makes his head spin. Somehow you had latched onto his sin-soaked soul, cleansing it in your soft, practiced hands and invigorating him in ways long forgotten.

Memories that ache - that wear him down with the weight of the past, present and beyond - they all seem to slip away when he’s next to you. You’re his anchor, reeling him back from the somber reverie that so frequently plays in his mind. A light that burns bright even in the darkest of places, and somehow he always finds his way back to you. Zoro knows that real worth is wordless, actions speaking emphatically over all else.

And you show him that worth.

His worth.

Zoro kicks off his boots, practically tiptoeing his way around the bed to it’s open side – and though he knows it’s fruitless, he does make an attempt to slide in next to you as carefully as he can manage to. And you stir – as if right on cue, the sudden weight pressing into the mattress that rolls you against his chest. 

A sleepy hum of acknowledgement befalls your lips, a small - yet simple - gesture of welcome to the man now aside you.

A hint of a smile etches into the cooks of his mouth as he returns the gesture with a hum of his own before curling his arm around your middle and burying his face into your hair and breathing in deeply. Your body is warm to the touch, and with it comes elation. Oftentimes he appreciates that you had cast the first stone, releasing him from the nigh-torturous, unknown feelings that he couldn’t possibly have navigated alone.

Zoro clings to you, as if magnetically attached around your body. His thumb drags along your tummy, up and down in a soothing yet natural response to being with you. He murmurs a throaty “Good mornin’” against your ear that makes you shiver with longing. Far too little do you get to indulge in his embrace, and though you’re not as tired as he is, you aim to enjoy the time regardless.

“Morning,” You reply, twisting your head just enough to see him and allowing your hand to fall atop his and entwining your fingers together. “How was watch?”

“Same as ever.” He whispers into you, feeling that familiar tranquil serenity blossoming within him. Zoro squeezes your body against him and moves some of your hair out of your face to place a series of pecks to your cheek before trailing up to give you a soft, tender kiss to your lips. 

It hadn’t been easy, learning to love – but with you there, ready and willing to guide him at his chosen pace the whole way through his strained emotions. Not once in his life did he expect to feel this way, a man of action and ruthlessly devoted to his dream and to his course upon it. Zoro once saw life as just that – his own. A narrow pathway in hindsight, one fit enough for just himself at the end of all things.

Though now, the path had forked, widened, and along it do you walk beside him. Every decision, every step, every pinch of ash left in his wake has your name written upon it in dark, permanent ink. Zoro thinks with you in mind, acts with your face at the very forefront of his synapses. He’s grown to adore you, both body and soul.

Part of it terrifies him still. The thought of losing something more precious than words can explain dives deep into his core. In love, there is fear. Fear of loss, fear of weakness in life’s most pivotal moments, fear of losing one's sense of perception. 

Though, there’s also hope. Hope and happiness and support and all else that comes with devoting your very essence to another. Seeing you smile or laugh brings him a peace that borders on inexplicable. The feeling of your hand on his bids him well wishes, each kiss a reminder of sanctuary. Every tangle between the sheets when he makes love to you renders him spellbound - the saccharine, honeyed taste of your skin on his tongue mixed in with those sighs and coos of pleasure that only he can hear, a song that only he can make you belt, it makes Zoro’s head spin with just the thought.

To Zoro, you’re beyond compare. No single person in his life comes even toe-to-toe with you, and as you snuggle against him, he allows himself to feel vulnerable. You’re his safehaven, a blessing in disguise that nabs him by the heart and never fails to lull him into a rejuvenating respite. 

You’re home.

You’re his.

[anystalker707]

i lack words

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x [gn, amab] Reader Summary: De-stress session with the cook Tags: bottom reader / caring sanji

Requested by anon ["Hiii I hope you are doing well!! Could I request Sanji x amab male reader, where there's been tension between him and reader ever since they met when reader joined the crew but even with some heavy flirting..."]

MASTERLIST

          Something different hung in the air this time, lingering as the day went on, and Sanji’s unusually constant presence seemed to cause that weird impression. You knew how to deal with him, just not with the fact that he was over your shoulder with flirty comments not just once or twice a day but ever since the morning now.

“How's it?” Sanji looked over your shoulder, his hand on your opposite one, watching you eat the dessert he’d prepared exclusively for you. Of course, he knew how to cook all your favorite meals, anything to please you as much as he could, even if the ingredients were hard to find or expensive.

“Perfect as always,” you said between bites. It was hard to compliment Sanji, since he did everything extremely well, so you lacked words to convey what you really thought. Hopefully, your happiness would be enough, along with how you savored each bite slowly, making sure to appreciate the meal as it deserved. “Thank you.” You glanced at Sanji, and your breath hitched when you noticed the actual proximity between you two; something he didn’t seem to mind. Predictable.

“You’re so pretty when you’re eating, my love—”

Sanji was cut off when you pressed a hand to the side of his face to push him off, and hopefully distract him from your embarrassment as well. You took a deep breath, recomposing yourself before he went back to thirsting over you, talking about how beautiful you were even angry; nothing that deserved attention, anyway.

          The peace Sanji gave you for a little during the day opened space for thoughts. So many weeks going from island to island were starting to catch up on you, and fuck… Maybe you needed a relief. Something to help you de-stress. Your eyes focused on the distance, where the sky met the sea, but your mind was somewhere else as you slipped your hand under your shirt to scratch your chest, maybe letting your fingers linger against the warm skin for a little too long.

It’d been long since someone last touched you like… that. Honestly, you didn’t have time to think about it, of course, so even if there had been opportunities, you didn’t notice. What a shame.

The thought kept echoing in the back of your mind as you went on with your day, trying your best to keep your thoughts in check through everything. Not that it worked a lot, but it was better than indulging yourself in it. Only Sanji seemed to be bothered enough by your dragging behavior. The deck was empty until he twirled in with a tray in hand, smiling as he strode over and held the tray out to you.

“A last snack for my dear,” Sanji announced with a small smile, invading your personal space as always, but you didn’t move away immediately this time.

“Oh?” You raised an eyebrow, taking the glass in hand. The dessert was purple, with a creamy texture, and it smelled good, though you didn’t exactly know what it was made of. You took a bit of it in the small spoon before trying it. It was sweet, refreshing, unlike anything you’d tasted before. “What’s this, Sanji?”

Sanji held the tray under his arm, shrugging a little. “It’s a mousse, made with an exotic fruit we found on the last island. I made a small portion just to test and decided to get the prettiest one ever to try it first.” He smiled, watching your reaction closely, close enough for his breath to fan on your cheek.

For some reason, you didn’t move away from it, only nodding faintly at Sanji, rolling your eyes lightly at his comment. Maybe, it was some sort of sign for him. Sanji put the tray aside on top of a wooden box before he placed a hand on your waist. The touch was featherlight at first, only gaining confidence at your lack of reaction, eventually squeezing your waist. It wasn’t uncomfortable or anything, no. You weren’t just too tired to push him off—part of you wanted to see where it would lead.

“It’s perfect,” you said before eating another spoonful of the sweet dessert, once again facing the same problem of not knowing how to compliment Sanji’s creations enough. Soon, you finished the dessert, and Sanji promptly took the empty glass from your hands and put it down over the tray.

“Did you truly like it?” Sanji’s voice was lighter than usual, laid back, but also tired. Something about the calmness of the night had that same effect on you, with the peaceful silence, which was accompanied by the sound of the waves crashing against the side of the ship.

“Is there something you prepare that I don’t?” You scoffed, shaking your head. The wood of the railing was cold under your hands, slightly wet because of the mist.

A grin tugged on Sanji’s lips as he observed you, humming happily as he squeezed your waist again. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad if you gave Sanji a little freedom, at least once. 

“You know, you seem tense. Are you worried? Is there anything bothering you?” Genuine concern laced Sanji’s voice, his hands firm over your shoulders, warm compared to the chilly night wind.

Was it that noticeable? You only raised your eyebrows lightly in response and glanced over your shoulder, looking at Sanji’s face, before observing the dark sea again. “Ah, no, there’s nothing. I think I’m just tired, y’know? Nothing important,” you excused. Even if you weren’t ‘just tired’, it ultimately was nothing that important. “Don’t worry about that,” you muttered, instinctively reaching a hand to place over his own. Even if it weren’t your initial intention, it felt… nice.

Sanji nodded slowly, eyebrows furrowed in concern, but he gently took your hand so that you’d face him and allow him to hug you. His arms wrapped around your torso firmly to pull you close to him, and you couldn’t do a lot but lean into the hug. Truth be said, you wanted the contact, even if you didn’t dare to voice your thoughts.

“I see,” Sanji muttered. “It’s alright. I’m always here if you need anything, okay? Don’t hesitate to look for me, whatever you need. Whether it’s a chat, a warm meal… Something more, maybe, who knows?” His breath was warm against your ear, his lips tickling the shell of your ear as he spoke, sending shivers down your spine. Something about that was so hot, honestly, making you instantly feel tingly all over, even if just for a second. You were sensitive, anyway, so it wasn’t helping.

“Yeah, of course,” you mumbled, lifting your hands a little, unsure whether to keep going with the hug. Going along with it could be good, though. You could use a little pampering. Still, it wasn’t about using Sanji to fulfill a need, but more like combining the need and the lingering temptation to give in to Sanji’s advances that had been bothering you for a while. It wouldn’t hurt, right? Sanji tensed up when you gave in and wrapped your arms around his neck, breath hitching in his throat. “I know you got me, right? For anything I need?” You whispered back into Sanji’s ear, able to smell his cologne, the smell of food and tobacco that’d impregnated his clothes.

Sanji raised his eyebrows for an answer that never came and instead died on his tongue the moment you pulled away a little to look at him in the eyes. His breath came fanning over your face when he exhaled, and his blue irises were reduced to thin rings around blown pupils while he observed you, taking in your closeness. “Of course, dearest,” he whispered, biting his lip as he couldn’t help but let his gaze fall to your lips for a moment. Did he notice the longing, the silent pleading in your eyes while your fingers idly traced patterns into his back? Perhaps.

Sanji’s lips also tasted like the same dessert you’d had earlier, so you presumed he’d tried some of it to make sure it tasted good enough for you. His lips were soft against yours, kissing you with a certain care before finally gaining the courage to deepen the kiss, firming his hands around your waist as he did so. His touch sent the blood rushing down, shamefully easily.

“Mellorine,” Sanji whispered, making a sound that resembled a moan once you started kissing him back with the same emotion he’d put into it, lips parted to allow his tongue in. A new kind of urgency brewed, but nothing that bothered Sanji, only snatching soft groans as you clung to him and let him kiss you until your lungs were burning. “Mon am—” Sanji’s breath hitched as he felt your erection press to his thigh. He couldn’t help but widen his eyes, cheeks heated up, a little blood threatening to escape his nose. “Do you…”

“Please, Sanji,” you cut in before kissing him again, but it didn’t last so long this time, conflicting with the urgency to find somewhere else to give in to your desires.

          The pantry’s door closed with a light creak, but you didn’t think anyone would hear it while sleeping, and the quarters weren’t nearby either way. The dim lighting created a nice atmosphere—the pantry was completely dark if not for the moonlight that slipped through the round window on the door, somehow making it more intense. Just the feeling of Sanji’s lips pressing to your neck was enough to make your cock twitch in your pants, sending a shiver down your spine as you wrapped your hands around the lapel of his jacket to pull him close, and he gladly did so, holding your hips in return.

Your back hit the wall right before Sanji’s teeth started tugging on your skin, insisting until a gasp escaped your lips, and it was then easier to snatch more sounds from you. His tongue worked over the bite marks soothingly before he attacked your neck again, progressively making it harder to let things drag slowly. Just grinding your cock against his thigh already drew an unusually loud moan from you, which made Sanji inhale sharply, his teeth sinking harder into your neck.

“I need you, Sanji.” Your breathy words cut through the silence of the pantry, immediately cut off by the rustling of clothes and messy steps until you finally sat down on a wide, wooden box, and took off your remaining shoe before your pants joined it on the floor. Sanji exhaled slowly and tried to rush, but the most he could do was take off his jacket, unbutton his shirt, and lower his pants before standing between your legs, bent over you to lock your lips together in a kiss once again.

Propped up on an elbow, your free hand wrapped around his crumpled collar, pulling Sanji closer to deepen the kiss. It was intoxicating. Would you never get enough of him? Despite how your lungs ached for air, your lips still pressed to Sanji’s, your tongue still glided against his. It turned so wild so fast, but you couldn’t help the way you craved his touch.

“I have no… no condom,” Sanji mumbled between sloppy kisses, his lips burning just like yours. “I will…”

“Just need lube,” you breathed in response, and those were the last words you shared for a while, diving into a silence punctuated by ragged breathing and occasional moans.

With lingering reluctance, Sanji finally pulled away from you, nipping on your lips until finally putting some distance between the two of you. “Lube…” He muttered thoughtfully before looking around. “Okay, we’re lucky,” he mumbled before grabbing a jar and pouring whatever it was into his hand. Any questions you could’ve had about it died down when the faint smell of coconut hit your nose, so anticipation started rising in you again.

“Sanji,” you breathed, and your breath hitched when Sanji’s fingers pressed to your entrance, making you clench around nothing as your cock twitched in anticipation. Sanji swallowed your moans in yet another kiss while he pushed his fingers into you.

Sanji’s motions were fast and precise—or at least as precise as they could be—, only aiming to make sure you were lubed up properly, neglecting the occasional whines that escaped your lips, even more so after he pulled his fingers away, leaving you empty.

“I’ve wanted this for so long, my love,” Sanji mumbled in a weak voice once the kiss was over, breathless. “You’re so hot, a gift from heaven…”

Whatever you had to say to Sanji in return was replaced by a gasp when the tip of his cock pressed to your entrance, putting on some pressure, though it wasn’t enough to push it just yet. Only to surprise you, apparently.

“Can I…?” Sanji’s lips grazed against yours, tickling them with a couple of words.

“Yeah,” you breathed with a nod before he kissed you again. The kiss could barely continue, given the moans that spilled from your lips with Sanji’s cock slowly pushing into you. It felt so good. The burn from the stretch only added to the pleasure, running down your spine with a certain relief—it was exactly what you needed. Your thoughts slowly slipped from your grasp for a moment, according to how the arousal clouded up your mind.

A higher-pitched moan escaped your lips as Sanji started moving, making you inhale sharply, hands closing tightly around his shirt to hold him close. Sanji’s lips left yours to find your neck instead, kissing and nipping more on the skin while his hips moved against yours. Why didn’t you allow this to happen before? It felt so good, even if you were in the fucking pantry, with the surface of the wooden box digging into your shoulder blades. Sanji felt so good inside you, holy fuck.

You needed more of Sanji’s touch, even if he was already deep inside you, body pressed to yours while he fucked you. He managed to snatch strings of moans from your lips so easily and seemed to enjoy each of them, careful with you, but also giving in to the urgency demanded by the moment.

“Sanji,” you breathed with a moan. How was he able to make you feel so good? You were so sensitive that it felt almost shameful. Your mind slipped away easily once his thrusts started getting faster; his hands held your thighs tightly for leverage. “Mmph, fuck…” You arched your back at a particular wave of pleasure that made your cock twitch, leaking more pre-cum on your stomach.

Your moans were muffled by the shelves full of items in the pantry, sometimes escaping your lips past gritted teeth or unexpectedly, only stopping to change the position a little. His arm hooked under one of your legs, managing to allow him to go even deeper into you. Fuuuck.

“You feel so good, my dear.” Sanji’s breath fanned against your neck, a small moan escaping his lips. “Do I make you feel good? I want nothing more than to make you feel good,” he breathed as his hand slipped under your shirt, calloused fingers running up and down your side caringly, managing to make you even more sensitive. Sanji’s fingers found your chest, kneading the skin until he came across your nipple to play with. “Do you feel good, sweetheart?”

“So good,” you found yourself obligated to answer through a moan. Your toes curled as your nails dragged along Sanji’s back through his shirt, probably scratching his skin anyway. The feeling was great, intoxicating, and probably going to haunt you for a long while after that. You wanted it to last longer, but you couldn’t help the sensation that began pooling in your lower stomach and made your thighs quiver. “Sanji,” you choked out through a shaky breath. “‘M close…”

“Okay, baby,” Sanji breathed. He paused for a moment, enough to let his hand slip lower. His hand wrapped tightly around your cock, squeezing it before he started pumping it in the same rhythm of his thrusts once he started moving his hips again, harder than before.

Your fingertips hurt from holding so tightly onto Sanji’s shirt, but you really couldn’t help it, trying to ground yourself. You couldn’t cum too soon, not when it felt so good, but Sanji had different plans. Sanji pressed his thumb to your tip, letting it run along your slit before he ran circles around your tip, and it didn’t take a lot more. A soft cry escaped your lips before your balls tightened, and that was it.

Sanji’s name escaped your lips in an incoherent, loud moan as your orgasm hit, the knot in your lower stomach unraveling at the same time a blissful sensation ran down your spine, coated with relief, making you feel all tingly for a moment. It felt like your mind slipped away for a moment before you were back to reality, feeling Sanji’s cum coat your inner thigh. You should’ve told him to cum inside, but you couldn’t even remember your name anyway.

“Sanji,” you whispered. Light pain spread through your knuckles when you finally released his shirt, running your hands up until your fingers tangled with his hair. He hummed in response, nuzzling your neck. “More.”

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Daddy’s Best Friend, Mr. Miller Part 6: Hot Tubs and Calloused Fingers✨

Dbf! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: I’ve had this one in the works for a while, and it’s finally here! Thank you to @mountainsandmayhem for beta reading 🩷

Chapter Summary: Your family decides to take you on a trip to Big Bear, California, and your dad brings Joel along. Can Joel keep his hands off you, or will you lose all control in the hot tub?

Rating: 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 5.8k

Tags: Flirting, sneaking around, Dom! Joel, soft Joel, unprotected piv, fingering, dirty talking, teasing, hot tub fun, daddy kink, edging, no use y/n, no outbreak au

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

To make up for your parents not taking you on your yearly Galveston trip, they decide to surprise you with a weekend trip to Big Bear, California. One of your favorite little areas in the mountains to get away from the rush of Austin. It was all a nice surprise, but they forgot to mention one thing. That one teeny tiny thing was your dad inviting Joel Miller, your father’s best friend, your secret boyfriend who you’ve been seeing for a few months as of late August. What could possibly go wrong? 

   After a night out on the town, your father had the best idea to unwind before bed. That idea was to get in the hot tub and of course he mentioned it to Joel first, then the invitation got passed on to you. You didn’t know what compelled you to say yes, but you couldn’t pass up the rare opportunity to give Joel a little tease with your new royal blue bikini. You’d have him groveling over you in a heartbeat. 

   You wrap the white fluffy robe around you as you slide the clear glass door to the side, stepping out into the brisk chill of winter as you see your breath blow out like clear fog through the cold air. Your eyes glide across the glassy lake as white snow coats the towering mountains and pine trees in the near distance. It’s absolutely stunning out on the back porch of the two story lodge. Your favorite view other than Joel, who’s your most favorite view of all. 

   “Nice night ain’t it?” Joel echoes through the wind, his voice sinking into your chest as you smile and nod over at him.

   “Mhm. Beautiful,” you reply, turning in the direction of Joel’s voice. 

   “Gorgeous,” he says quietly, his eyes paralyzing you in place as he stares directly into your eyes, his little way of telling you he thinks you’re absolutely beautiful. 

   A small smile forms over your lips as you look up through your eyelashes and take him in fully. He’s sitting in the bubbling hot tub with a clear glass of whiskey on the rocks as he swirls the amber colored drink around in slow circles. He tilts his head back and takes a generous gulp as he drinks it down and sets it back down on the side of the hot tub. 

   You see his tanned, broad chest rise and fall above the water as he pushes his slicked back tousled curls away from his face, his flexed muscles making you bite your lower lip in response as you see the glossy sheen of whiskey coat his lips. You’d kill to be the alcohol on his big lips right now, would love nothing more than to lick his lips clean with your tongue as you lap up the taste of him. 

   “You’ve never been to the west coast, have you?” you ask as you take a few steps over to him, letting your fuzzy slippers trail along the snowy wooden deck as you sink your hands deep in the pockets of the warm robe. 

   “Nah, first time for me,” he replies as you take two more steps over in his direction.

   “So, how are you liking it?” you ask as you swish the bottom of your robe around, needing a distraction from his inviting eyes that you want to drown in, bathe in like a warm bubble bath. 

   “I’m lovin’ it. Mostly because I got to experience it with you, my little coastal girl. Always showin’ me new places, ain’t ya? My perfect girl,” he hums out as his honey eyes seem to reach in and wrap around your heart, tugging all your heart strings along as you take in the sweet Southern man that you’re head over heels for. 

   You shake your head and cross your arms over your chest, giving him your best puppy eyes as you speak into the calm wind. “And I’m never gonna stop showing you new places. If it was up to me, I’d drag you around the whole continent with me. I’d take you everywhere, Joel.”

   “Oh, baby. Just take my hand, I’ll follow you anywhere you wanna go. Ain’t ever met anyone like you before. You’ve got me locked down tight, darlin’.”

   You giggle and kick your slipper in the snow, your face probably flushed from blushing at his sweet, charming words. He always knows exactly what to say to make you blush. 

   “Baby, it’s cold out there. Why don’t you come in the hot tub? Maybe we can have a few minutes alone before your pops comes out.” He takes another sip of his whiskey, nursing it down as his cup sits half full. He probably tastes just like that brand of Jack Daniel’s he’s always drinking, and it makes your head dizzy just thinking about it. 

   “You don’t have to ask me twice,” you giggle as you walk over to the jetted hot tub, slowly unraveling the fuzzy robe as you gently slide it off your body and let it fall to the ground in a heap. 

   “Oops,” you smirk as you turn around and stick your ass out for Joel to ogle at as you pick up the fuzzy robe, making sure to take your time as you snap back up, feeling the material of the navy blue silky bottoms slide up more, exposing more skin as you hear a low “Fuck” coming from the direction of the hot tub. Jackpot. 

   You stand back up and whip around as you toss your hair over your shoulder and flash him your best innocent smile. Except you’re not innocent, not in the least bit. So you drag the edges of the bottoms up higher on your hips and do one more slow twirl for him so he can take in all your curvy features he loves. 

   When you face him again, you see him rake his large fingers through his thick scruff as he looks completely wrecked. His eyes widen as his mouth parts open as he nearly pants your name through his teeth, his eyes sliding down every single inch of skin as he takes you in nice and slow. That man is done for. 

   “Goddamn, darlin’. You look so fuckin’ good in that little bikini you got on. And one of my favorite colors? Are ya tryin’ to ruin me?” he asks helplessly as his fingers claw at the side of the hot tub, his breathing ragged as he watches you trail a finger underneath the thin strap of the top piece, the material barely covering anything as you picked one of the skimpiest swimsuits you could find online. You picked it just for him, just so you could tease him with it. 

   “Always,” you whisper, winking his way as you blow him a flirtatious kiss. 

   He chuckles as he shakes his head and moves to the opposite side of the hot tub, the side closest to you.

   “You’re such a tease, ya know that?”

   “Mhm,” you hum out innocently. 

   “You’re treading on mighty thin ice, darlin’.” He lifts a brow as he knits his thick eyebrows together, giving you that “You’re in trouble” look that you know will have you bent over his lap. 

   “Yeah? You wanna see me walk across the ice?” you smirk, your index finger lowering one of the bikini straps as you slide it down your arm playfully. 

   “Since you wanna be such a fuckin’ tease in that little bikini, why don’t you come get in the water? Let me show you just what happens to girls who wanna be a tease,” he smirks, his eyes growing dark as one eyebrow cocks up and his thick fingers curl over the edge, just a foot from where you stand. 

   You take a few steps forward, your toes padding across the wooden deck as you step in front of him, placing your hand down on the edge of the hot tub as your skin connects with his pinky finger. Warm, damp skin collides with yours. 

   “And what is it you’re gonna show me, hmm? Gonna teach me a lesson?” you smirk, your eyes growing wide as his calloused fingers curl around your wrist and pull you forward to where his lips are lined up with the shell of your ear. You gulp as his hot breath blows in your ear, feeling the warmth flow down to your stomach as it twists in tight knots. 

   “Oh, I’m gonna teach ya a lesson alright. I’m gonna bend ya over this hot tub and fuck you nice and slow until you’re beggin’ me for more,” he growls as he licks a thick stripe up your neck, his warm tongue making you dizzy as your bottoms fill with slick. 

   “Yeah?” you ask breathlessly, your voice clouding with need. 

   “Oh yeah. Gonna have my cock buried deep in that pretty pussy, baby. Gonna be so covered in your slick as I slide it in and out of ya.” He traces his index finger over your navy blue waistband as he teasingly dips a finger across the soft skin just below your waistline as you choke on a muted moan. 

   “What else are you gonna do to me, daddy?” You slur the name out as you bite your lower lip as he continues the teasing of his finger against your sensitive skin. 

   “Daddy’s gonna take these thick fingers and work them nice and slow over that gorgeous clit,” he smirks as he slides a finger inside your bikini bottoms, catching the edge of your puffy clit with his calloused thumb as you moan out his name. “Gonna make you come so many times, darlin’. Gonna fingerfuck you so hard that you-”

   Joel snaps his hand back and shoots across the hot tub as you hear the sliding door open, hearing your dad cross the deck as your heart races a million miles in your chest as you cling to the edge of the hot tub and try to calm your increasing heart rate. 

   That was close. Too close. 

   “Now the party can begin,” your dad chuckles as he twists open a beer bottle and takes a large gulp from the flute of the beer. You roll your eyes and climb in the hot tub, making sure to sit on the opposite side of Joel as your foot catches with his. 

   You look up hurriedly and see the wrecked look on his face, watching his pupils try to fight him as they flutter back and forth. Pulsing between calm and completely turned on. This was going to be a long night.

   You gently slide in the hot water and rest your back against one of the jetted walls, sighing deeply as you try to calm yourself down.

   “Move over, bud. Let me squeeze in right here,” your dad grunts as he climbs over the side of the hot tub and slides in, making the water splash over your breasts as the bubbles simmer over the top of the water. 

   Joel slides over to the middle of the hot tub, his knee grazing against yours as you flinch as the heat of his skin. You’re still turned on, you need to calm the hell down. Now is not the time. 

   “Claire doing okay?” Joel asks as he grabs his glass and takes a sip of the alcohol, the whiskey scent burning your nostrils as you smell traces of Joel in the whiskey. It’s intoxicating, making you want to grab the glass and trace the rim with your tongue. You know it tastes exactly like him. 

   “She just took a sleeping pill and went to bed, she’s out like a light,” he says as he takes another gulp of Corona Light, the condensation dripping down the bottle as he holds it in his heavy hand. 

   “Mom always gets bad migraines in the mountains, think she’s allergic to the outdoors,” you laugh as you look out at the midnight sky, the thick fog covering the clear coat of water across the dreamy lake. It’s so beautiful out here. 

   “Think you might be right,” your dad chuckles deeply as he chugs down another large gulp, “you were always the outdoorsy one in the family. Always dragging us to the beach or the lake or the mountains. Never one to stay inside for too long. Ain’t that right, Joel?”

   Joel looks over at you, his honey eyes sliding down your face as a small smile curls at the edges of his dark mustache. “Think you’re right, George. She’s a little adventurer.” You smile up at him, averting your eyes after a few seconds so your dad doesn’t notice how lovesick you really are over him.

   You feel his fingers brush up your calf, slowly inching up up up until he’s sliding his fingers back and forth over the back of your thigh, making your heart hammer in your chest as you feel the tingling sensations it brings to your center. Hot sensations and flooding warmth begin in your core. You’re burning for him. 

   “If only you knew her like I did, Joel. You don’t even know the half of it,” he laughs as he chugs the rest of his empty beer, popping off the tab on another as he starts to drown in that one, too. 

   You suppress a giggle as you look up at Joel from the corner of your eye, the two of you sharing a secret conversation as Joel winks at you with the glisten of his brown eyes. Your dad was the one that didn’t know the half of it. Joel knew you better than anyone else did, he knew you like the back of his own hand. He always paid attention to every little detail about you. He was the one who knew you, not your dad. 

   “So, how ‘bout them Cowboys this weekend? Can’t believe number nine got benched from the game,” your dad tsks as he brings the flute of the bottle back to his chapped lips. 

   “I mean, he didn’t listen to the coach. Can’t really blame him for benchin’ him,” Joel replies as his fingers trail higher, teasing the inside of your thighs as he grazes his nail beds smoothly over your sensitive skin. Suddenly, the hot tub is too hot, the water feeling like it’s boiling your skin alive as Joel’s touch lights your body on fire. 

   As your dad and Joel continue to talk about sports, Joel gets braver as he trails his calloused fingers higher, teasing the waistband of your bikini bottoms again as your eyes go as wide as an owl’s. You try to push his hand away, but he grabs your wrist with a strong grip and pins it behind him as he smirks at you from the corner of his burning eyes. 

   “Ya know, if they’d just listen and learn to take it then maybe they wouldn’t get benched,” Joel hisses with a rough edge to his voice, the words carved just for you as he pushes the material to the side and starts to work his thick fingers up and down your folds slowly, catching the heel of his palm on your clit as you latch on for dear life to his wrist. 

   You lean your head back on the sturdy edge of the hot tub as you bite your tongue and dig your fingers into his wrist as he works and works at your clit, feeling his thumb sink down firmly as he leaves tight circles that penetrate down to your core. 

   You close your eyes, letting the blowing bubbles of the jetted hot tub cover you as Joel’s hand is completely hidden from your dad’s view. No way for him to know his best friend is playing a dangerous game with his daughter, one that’ll only end in cries of pleasure. 

   Joel’s snide remarks are biting at your flesh, but it feels so fucking good that you just want him pulverize your insides with his experienced fingers. You want him to take what’s his, want him to bend you over and punish you for teasing him with your swimsuit, want him to fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to stand straight for hours after, want him to take and take and take until he’s all you can feel inside you. 

   You hear your dad and Joel’s laughter carrying through the chill of the crisp air, but you’re in a far away place as you let your mind turn to mush. 

   You stare up into the bright, starry night sky and focus in on one particularly bright star as you squeeze your thighs around Joel’s fingers as they circle meticulously around your throbbing bundle of nerves. You start to close your eyes, start to unwind until you hear your dad clearing his alcohol filled throat on the opposite side of the hot tub. 

   “And why are you so quiet over there? Don’t have anything to pitch about the game?” your dad asks as he clicks his uneven nails on the edge of the beer bottle as he looks you dead in the eyes, just like he can see what’s really going on under the water. 

   You lift your head and gulp before speaking. “I didn’t really… I…” Your voice cracks as Joel slips a finger inside you, curling it at just the right angle as it reaches that soft spongy spot that always makes you drenched in slick. 

   Your eyes go wide as your nails dig into the skin of his forearm, squeezing so tight as you fight to stay composed. “I didn’t really… oh - watch the game, dad,” you babble out as you clench up around his thick finger while his thumb continues to circle your tingling clit. 

   “That’s too bad, kid. Gotta straighten this one out, Joel,” your dad tsks as he takes another swig of beer. 

   Joel smirks over at you with one eyebrow raised and his pupils expand into black pits. “Oh, I intend to.” The sentence makes your eyes blow wide. 

   You dig your nails into your thigh, so close to spilling yourself all over his calloused fingers until he’s pulling them away from you and leaving you with an ache that’s begging to be soothed. You reach for his wrist, but he pulls away and winks your way. He mouths “Later” to you, and you groan at the loss of his thick fingers. You were right on the edge, but he knew that. It was clearly payback for teasing him so much earlier.

   You rest the back of your neck against the side of the hot tub, trying your best not to get all worked up again. You might as well finish the job yourself, but not when your dad is right across from you. 

   Your dad downs the last drop of his beer and sighs, pulling himself up to a standing position. “Well, I think I’m gonna call it a night. Think I had a little too much to drink. Gonna go shower and fall into bed,” he says with a big yawn, stumbling out of the hot tub and throwing a lime green towel across his body. 

   “Night, George,” Joel calls as he tips his head to him. 

   “You two don’t stay up too late, got a big day tomorrow,” your dad laughs as he slides the glass door wide open. 

   “Dad, I’m not a child,” you groan, rolling your eyes at his response. 

   Your dad laughs and leaves you with a “Have fun but not too much fun” statement before he slides the door closed and leaves the two of you alone. 

   “Oh, we will,” Joel smirks your way as he takes another sip of his amber whiskey. 

   You roll your eyes at him and push him in the shoulder. “Thanks for almost making me come, real smooth,” you tease as you flick some water into his face. 

   “Jus’ gettin’ you worked up, baby. Wanted you nice and wet for me,” he says with his jaw ticked up, dark eyes smoldering in your direction. 

   You roll your eyes and shake your head. “Well, you had your chance, cowboy, and you didn’t finish. Maybe next time.” You move to the edge and stick your tongue out at him, adjusting your swimsuit bottoms to fully show off your ass as you turn to get out of the tub.

   Before you can step out, Joel grabs the back of your neck and spins you back around, dragging you down to where you’re pinned against his broad chest, sitting in his lap with your legs straddling his. “Where do you think you’re goin’, baby? I’m not done with you yet,” he smirks. 

   “Oh, you’re not?” You ask breathlessly, your heart hammering against your chest as you feel his cock hardening beneath his swim trunks. 

   “Nah. Jus’ gettin’ started, sweetheart.”

   He adjusts you to where you’re straddling one of his muscular thighs, your pussy still throbbing from the way he was working you up so good a couple minutes ago.  

   You almost ask what he’s doing until he nods down at you. “Well, go on now. Finish it,” he smirks. “Ride it out, cowgirl. Go on. On my thigh,” he chuckles as he undoes your swimsuit bottoms and discards them on the edge of the hot tub.

   You freeze, your mouth agape as you stare wide-eyed at him. “You want me to…”

   “Mhm. Go on, baby. Ride me. Wanna hear your pretty little moans when you come on my thigh, and that’s what you’re gonna do. Ain’t that right, baby girl?” He coos, eyes alight with fire while he sits back with his arms draped over the sides of the tub, waiting for you to put on a show.

   “Alright, brown eyes. Better saddle up, then. Might take you for the ride of your life,” you wink. “Oh and…” You open your mouth to say something else, but Joel yanks your hips down until your pussy is flush with his thigh, and then your hips start to grind down on him, making your clit drag against his large muscles.

   “Oh, fuck,” you moan, snagging your puffy clit again and again on his thigh as your hips start to move on their own.

   “There ya go, darlin’. Look so fuckin’ pretty ridin’ my thigh,” he growls, doing everything in his power to let you be in control. He wants to curl two fingers up inside you, rub your pretty little clit till you scream his name, make you see stars as you moan into the shell of his ear, till you can’t think straight, till you can only speak his name. He’s so possessive over you, wants to always be the one to make you come, but this time he’ll watch. This time he’ll just talk you through it.

   You groan as you ride him, your hands clinging around his wide shoulders as you scratch your nails into his tanned skin, bubbles blowing against the top of the water as you work up and down his large leg, moan nonsense under your breath as you start to lose control of the blissful high of your quickly building orgasm.

   Your brows pinch together into a tight line, your mouth drops open as you moan his name over and over and over while your pussy throbs against the coarse hairs on his leg. Your head tilts back as you close your eyes and start to leg go as the building pressure almost explodes.

   He watches you with dark, glossy eyes, a devilish smirk sitting on the edge of his mouth, slowly licking his bottom lip as he stares with smoldering eyes at his most favorite girl. He wants to devour your pretty pussy whole, but for now he’ll just enjoy you getting off on his thigh.

   “There ya go. Attagirl. Look at you go, baby girl. Absolutely gorgeous,” he breathes, his lips just waiting to taste your sticky cum, his most favorite dessert. 

   You snap your head up, open your eyes and then moan again as your bundle of nerves catches the edge of his thigh. “Joel, I’m gonna. Fuck - gonna come,” you groan, feeling the white hot feeling start to slide down the middle of your spine.

   “Go on then, beautiful. Come for me. Wanna see it,” he smiles, fingers curling over the edge until one hand sits waiting under water, ready to catch some of your cum.

   One more long drag of your clit on his thigh and you’re coming hard, falling against his chest and moaning into the shell of his ear as he holds you up and swipes two fingers against your throbbing pussy.

   He talks you through it, telling you just how good of a girl you are until you’ve come down from your high. Then you watch him take those same two fingers and pop them inside his own mouth, groaning against the taste of you inside his throat. “Taste so fuckin’ sweet, baby. Always do,” he moans.

   Your forehead drops on the sweat of his chest, palms pressed firmly against his rippling muscles as you catch your breath, letting the warm water soothe your aching legs.

   He cups your chin and smirks down at you as a gleam in his eye twinkles with mischief. He isn’t done with you. No. He’s never done with you. “Already tired, sweetheart?” he tsks, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “You know I ain’t done with you yet, baby. Not even close,” he says with clenched teeth.

   He quickly spins you around, grabbing your hips and pinning you up against the side of the hot tub. You have to grab onto the edge to keep from tipping forward, but then you feel a quick slap to your ass and then hear his swim trunks being pulled down.

   “Joel,” you warn, barely above a whisper, afraid your dad will come back out and find his best friend thrusted deep inside you. Your palms start to sweat, both from being hot from the water, the tension that longs in your spine, and the direct bolt of electricity that runs through your body knowing exactly what he’s about to do to you.

   He tugs your hair back until his plush lips are seared against the shell of your ear, his hot breath breathing down your neck. “Your daddy ain’t comin’ back out tonight, sweetheart. So don’t you worry your pretty little head, baby. Jus’ sit there, legs spread,” he demands as he places his knee between your legs and spreads them till his hand is running over your throbbing clit that makes a groan fall from your lips. 

   “You’re gonna take it, darlin’. Ain’t ya?” He pulls your hair again as his lips clamp down on your neck, making you rut your ass into his palm that sits in the water until you stifle a please from your lips. 

   “Joel,” you whine, letting him toy with your hardening nipples as one hand slips beneath your bikini top, practically begging him to take you. 

   “Yeah? You gonna ask nicely, baby? Gonna say please?” He teases, dragging your hips back so you feel how hard he is against your back.

   “Pretty please,” you beg as you feel him stroke his tip against your wet folds.

   “Since you asked so nicely, guess you deserve it,” he chuckles, lifting your ass partly out of the water so he has the perfect lineup and view. 

   “Look at you,” he purrs, admiring the perfect shape of your ass and your glistening pussy. “So fuckin’ pretty, goddamn,” he groans as he slips two fingers inside your pretty hole.

   “Ohhh,” you groan, feeling the stretch of his fingers curl up and down as the slick coats his thick fingers. 

   “Yeah? Want me to stuff you full with my cock, baby?” he asks with clenched teeth as you hear how absolutely wet and messy your pussy is.

   “Yes - yes,” you pant, reaching a hand back to run through his wet curls. 

   “Hold on tight then, darlin’. Gonna take you for a ride,” he chuckles as he pulls his fingers from your core, leaving you a panting mess till he pulls your hips flush to his and slowly thrusts in, stretching you to the max as he starts to ease in nice and slow.

   You wrap your hands around the edge of the hot tub, hear the water splash each time he fucks deep inside you, eliciting moans from your lips each time his tip kisses your cervix, feeling your walls clench down around him as he works you faster and harder.

   He pulls you flush against his broad chest, continuing to fuck up fast and hard into your tight pussy as he stifles moan after moan from your lips. You feel the heat start to take hold of you, feel your walls clench tighter as he takes you to the edge, feeling his balls slap hard against your ass as he takes everything from you.

   “Such a good fuckin’ girl, yeah. Takin’ this cock so good, squeezin’ me so tight, fuck,” he growls as he places his hand around your throat and turns your lips to his.

   “Joel, gonna… fuck,” you squeak as he thrusts deeper inside you, feeling how thick his cock works you over, right as you start feeling yourself falling over the edge of an orgasm.

   “Go ahead. Soak my cock, go on,” he instructs as he starts to slowly circle your clit, tipping you over the edge as you open your mouth and start to spill your slick all over his fat cock.

   He captures your mouth with his, swallowing your moans with his own as he licks feverishly into your mouth. You taste the whiskey that drips against your tongue, smell his usual intoxicating pine scent of his skin, feel his large hands settle onto the edge of your hips.

   When you come down from your orgasm, he breaks his lips from yours and settles your chest against the edge of the hot tub, his large hands holding you in place as he thrusts deep inside you, speeding up his actions, his hips snapping against yours as he takes you on the ride of your life.

   You hear the slapping of skin on skin, hear his stifled grunts, feel how absolutely wrecked he is as he thrusts in and out of you with repetitive motions. And it feels so good, you love when he fucks you nice and deep, love hearing him completely fall apart when he’s inside your core. You love everything about it, about him.

   He leans over and rests his soft scruff against your jawline, and you feel as he starts to break inside you. His eyebrows pinch together, his fingers scorch your skin, and he gives you one more deep thrust until he’s moaning your name and spilling his seed all inside you. 

   He takes his time pulling out, and then he collapses into the water and pulls you down on his hips after he tucks his softening cock back into his swim trunks. He kisses your forehead softly and pulls you into his strong chest, his calloused fingers running down your arms as he soothes you from your intense workout in the hot tub.

   You sit there just breathing the same air, watching the shiny stars paint the night sky bright, falling deeper into his touch as he leaves more gentle kisses against your skin.

   “Did so good for me, baby. Always do so good,” he coos into the shell of your ear, leaving you breathless as usual from his soft words.

   “You always make me feel so good, Joel. I’ll never get tired of this, never get tired of you,” you whisper against the scruff of his jawline.

   “Mmm. Never get tired of you either, my gorgeous girl,” he whispers as he leaves another kiss against your cheek.

   You close your eyes for just a second, enjoying this alone time with Joel, pretending it’s just you and him on vacation. You could get used to this, used to him taking you away on mini vacations. And you want that, want him, forever.

   It’s quiet for another minute, only the brush of his rough hands lapping against the top of the water with each stroke to your skin. “You decide on an apartment yet, sweetheart?”

   “No, not yet,” you sigh, slowly turning in his arms until you can see his large chocolate eyes looking down at you. 

   “You really liked that last one we looked at, didn’t you? The one with the balcony overlookin’ the pool.”

   “Mmm, yeah. That one was nice, but…”

   “But what?”

   You huff and mumble out, “But, it’s not your bed.”

   He chuckles and pulls you closer into his broad chest. “Baby, my bed is as much yours as it is mine. You’re welcome over anytime you like. Door’s always open.”

   You smile up at him and nod. “Yeah, guess you’re right.” 

   What do you expect? That you can just move into Joel’s apartment unannounced, that you can skip over apartment shopping and all the applications you’ve already put in? Not likely, not when your dad doesn’t know the two of you have been sneaking around behind his back. He’d have Joel’s neck in a second.

   “Speakin’ of beds. You think your dad’s asleep yet?”

   “With as many beers as he had tonight, he’s out like a light and probably snoring as loud as a bear,” you giggle out.

   “In that case, why don’t you sleep in my bed tonight? Could take a long, hot shower, help ya wash your hair, give you one of my flannels to wear, snuggle up with my favorite girl under the warm blankets while I shower you with kisses.” He scoops you up and starts kissing you all over your face, making you giggle while you move around in his lap.

   “Joel, that tickles,” you laugh, but he doesn’t even begin to stop there. “Joelllll,” you whine as he leaves one long, soft kiss on your lips.

   “Gotcha,” he chuckles, giving you one last kiss until he pulls you up out of the hot tub with him. 

   “Alright now, let’s get you inside before you freeze in that little bikini.” He helps you back into your bikini bottoms and wraps a warm towel around your body, leading you into the house with one arm wrapped tightly around your hip.

   You stop him at the glass, giving him a long kiss as his plush lips mold to yours. He picks you up and cradles you against his chest, making you squeak as he slides the door open and takes you to his room. “C’mon, baby. Let’s get you in the shower.”

   It doesn’t take long to get all washed off and dried off as you slip into his dark green flannel shirt and crawl into his bed, letting him mold you to his chest as he nuzzles his face into the side of your neck. “Sweet dreams, baby. I love you,” he whispers as he shuts the lights off, letting the crackle of the fireplace fill the room as you slip off to sleep.

   “Night, Joel. Love you,” you purr as you fall asleep in his warm arms.

[rachelbrianne17]

"Worthy of your love"

Porgas D. Ace x female reader

Fluff/angst

Summary: Ace has been doubting himself lately, thinking that he isn't worthy of your love. You take matters into your own hands to comfort him and make him realize that he isn't his father.

@captainportgasdace

It was a hot day out on the grand line, and everyone on the Moby Dick took the nice day to relax. You were currently sitting on the deck with Marco and Thatch, playing a game of cards. Marco won once again.

"Marco!!! I'm convinced that you've been cheating!" Said Thatch, who had an annoyed expression on his face.

Marco laughs loudly. "Stop being such a sore loser"

Thatch dramatically stands up from his seat and yells, "WHAT DID YOU SAY YOU DAMN PINEAPPLE"

Meanwhile, you were just sitting there laughing historically at their actions, "You guys are idiots." At this point, your sides are aching with how much you've been laughing at them.

Marco all of a sudden goes quiet and just looks at you, "y/n, have you seen Ace today? He's normally glued to your side," Thatch nodded in agreement.

"Now that you mention it, he did disappear right after breakfast," you said thoughtfully. "He seemed a little off yesterday as well, I'll go and check on him," you said.

And with that, you got up and started looking throughout the ship. First, you checked the kitchen. Several pirates were eating their lunch, but no Ace in sight

Next, you checked the lounging/living space, but no Ace. He wasn't in any of the other rooms as well. So you head back out to the deck into the sun.

"Where could he be?" You thought to yourself. You start looking around every corner, nook, and cranny. Once again, no Ace in sight.

"Now, this is weird," you say out loud in a worried tone. He's normally by your side almost every hour of the day, and it's not like him to distance himself from everyone, especially you.

With that, you walk back inside and head in the direction of the commander's cabins. The hallway was dark, and the wooden floor creaked with every step you took. Finally, you reach his door and quietly knock.

"Ace, baby. Are you in here?" You say as you step inside. The room was dark, but you could see his figure sitting on the edge of his bed, with his elbows resting on his knees. His head was down. It looked like he was just staring into space. The sight made you worry.

When he saw you, he looked up and tried to give you one of his famous smiles but failed.

"Babe, is everything okay? You haven't been yourself since yesterday, " you said while walking towards him.

"Everything is just fine, my love," he said, trying to reassure you.

"No, I don't believe that. Baby, what's wrong?" You said while placing your hands on his shoulders, lovingly.

He sighed and looked down again, not being able to make eye contact with you. "y/n, why are you with me? I'm not deserving of your love, " he said with tears brimming his eyes.

With that, you sat down, holding his hands in yours. "Ace, what the hell makes you think that? You do deserve my love and everything in between!" You say with your throat closing up, it breaks your heart knowing that he's doubting himself.

"No, y/n. I fear that one day I'll turn into my father, and you will get hurt. I fear that one day you'll end up just like my mother, and I can't bear the thought of that, " he said with tears now streaming down his cheeks.

"Baby, you are not your father. You are your own man, the man that I fell in love with. I've stuck by you since the Spade Pirates for a reason. You're an incredible man with so much strength and love, and I'm going to stick by your side until the grave. You have the opportunity to not be like your father and to turn it all around, so don't think twice about not being worthy of my love because you deserve all of it, " you said with tears now streaming down your face.

Ace pulled you into a warm and loving hug. "I'm sorry that I've been worrying you, baby," he sighed. "It's just that these thoughts have been eating me alive lately, and I would never forgive myself if I ever hurt you"

You reach your hands out to wipe away his tears. "Ace, I'm here if you ever need anything, and please, for the love of God, let me know if something is ever bothering you," you say with a small smile on your face.

"Thank you, y/n. Thank you for loving me so much, " he said, trying to smile as well.

You sighed and stood up from the bed. "Now, then, let's get you something to eat since you haven't eaten anything since breakfast"

He stood up as well and gently grabbed your hand. "Yeah, I'M STARVING," he said dramatically back to his normal, silly, and goofy self.

And with that, you two walked hand in hand towards the kitchen

"God, I love him so much," you thought to yourself with a smile on your face.

At the same time, Ace thought to himself. "Damn, how did I get so lucky?" With a shit eating grin on his face.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

That's it!!!!!

I hope everyone enjoyed it!!!!

It's only the second thing I've written, and it's not the greatest, lol

Let you know how you liked it, and I'll write some more and over time I'll make them a bit longer❤️

[erzva]

…

ace

how he shows love

physical touch, acts of service & gift giving

much like his little brother he will be around and on you 24/7. it's like he's glued to you. he hasn't let you sit on a wooden chair a single time ever since you got together, always pulling you straight on his lap. it's instinct. it's become such a big habit that if he were to stop, it would feel wrong and kind of empty. having his princess sitting on a hard surface rather than his soft thighs is simply wrong.

he goes above and beyond for you. he's a true gentleman.

you get treated better from most ppl on the crew bc you were whitebeards relative. it was something you greatly enjoyed. ever since ace realized he was in love with you though, he started treating you even more special. it was very obvious to your crewmates that ace had taken a liking to you but you didn't realize it because the two of you had gotten a lot closer, being each others best friends now, so you figured it was just due to that. when the two of you finally got over your silent yearning for each other and started dating though, the way ace treated you was far beyond princess treatment.

whenever you dock at a new island he always manages to secretly get (steal) something for you. wether it be jewelry, an interesting book, your favorite fruits or clothes- he will find something to gift to you.

he loves showing you off and he'll take any and every opportunity to do so. he's also very insecure deep down so showing you off is kinda his way to show everyone that you're his and that you chose him and want him. its reassuring to him.

maybe it was because he was so insecure, that he liked doing things for you and spoiling you and showing you off. because in his screwed up mind he has to compensate for being so worthless by doing anything and everything for you.

…

what he needs from you

words of affirmation & physical touch

you don't have to be a poet or profoundly good at using words and decorating your sentences with the fanciest declarations of love for him but he does need vocal reassurance. and a lot of it.

ever since he was a little boy there have been voices outside and inside of his head constantly telling him he's not good enough and that he doesn't deserve love, or to be alive even. he gains some confidence by becoming a pirate and he gains even more when you confessed to him and he realized that his feelings weren't one sided. but he still needs you to feel like he's worth something.

he would never stoop so low and tell you that you should baby him and tell him all these things but luckily you were smart enough to figure it out for yourself and start doing so without him having to go through the humiliating experience of laying his desires bare and voicing them.

he needs you to talk to him and hold him and tell him that you love him and that you won't leave him and that he's needed.

he wants nothing more than for once to be held in your strong safe arms and to feel your hands cupping (hiding) his face and for you to kiss it gently and softly while telling him everything he needs to hear.

he never asks anything of you. simply being with you is more than enough for him. you are everything to him. however he loves it when you're just as touchy and needy as him. it makes him feel validated.

he's insecure and damaged. which he doesn't let on at all and tries to conceal with his fun cocky personality. but still, you noticed it very early on. and you also know that he gets into depressive moods sometimes. it's only when he's alone and when it's night time but you still picked up on it. you heard him crying (sobbing) in a random corner on the deck one night and have had a soft spot for him ever since.

it didn't take long for you to connect the dots on why he feels the way he does. you started going through memories of him having possibly said something that could make you understand his emotional scars and you quickly came to the realization that it had to do with his father and the way people spoke about him.

you also heard him mutter negative self talk when he was in the bathroom. so you've been making sure to let him know how loved and grateful you are to have him ever since. you were subtle with it at first but now that you're together you tell him that you love him in different ways every day.

ace is incredibly touch starved so he needs to hug you a lot. he often drags you to his chambers with him and while everyone on the ship thinks you're having sex, he really just needed to be in your arms for a while. he would rather your crewmates think you're having sex though, instead of knowing the truth which was much more embarrassing. it makes him feel bare and he's disgusted with himself for even wanting or needing it.

because whatever it is the two of you were doing intimately when you were alone was very different from what ace does when he's showing off in front of the crew. when you're in front of the others he'll just have you sitting on his lap or drag an arm around your shoulder or waist and he'll kiss you and make out with you a lot to brag. but when you are alone he is pathetic and always hides himself in you and tries to get impossibly close to you, as if he's never felt love in his life before, as if it's his first time experiencing it. (it is)

he’s the little spoon. he needs to feel you around him, protecting him. not from actual danger, just from his own plaguing mind. because whenever he’s in your arms, he feels ok, good, better.

he wants to be close to you and touch you as much as possible. he can be incredibly intense and needy with it, holding onto you so tightly and rubbing and nuzzling against you so hard that it makes you worry and feel bad for him. because you know that deep inside, he is a lost scared child who just wants love and comfort.

…

[the-kr8tor]

Another potion request I think you may enjoy brewing up (Using my second and last slot).

A few stalks of baby's breath, mixed with epsom salt poured into a ❣️. Billie and Ramona could be from an orphanage that hitched a ride on the boat, the same fate as you...apart from the fact they just wanted some fun and weren't running away, and have adopted both BDAS!Hobie and you as parents. Signed by yours truly -🐦‍⬛

QISJJWIWJS BDAS + TWINS REQUEST?!!!! At your service 🫡

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.6 k

Tags: use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, Billie and Ramona AU, dad! Hobie, mom! Reader, Pirate AU, BDAS AU, CW food mentions, FLUFF!

A/N: hmmm I think every BDAS enjoyer should read this

Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

Katy's one year celebration 🎉

The twins jump around in glee, running off to the side of the ship to watch the anchor fall down with a loud splash. They've been your pride and joy the moment they fell into your lap, literally, they fell off the sail and into your arms one sunny morning and you've since become their adopted mother from then on. Hell, you've got the bump on your head to prove it from how you tumbled just to catch Billie in your arms while Ramona who's nestled in the crook of your arm watches you with wide, curious eyes. Hobie saved the day though, if not for him you'd have more than a bump on your head. It's safe to say that the girls fell into your arms and Hobie's.

It's been two years since then, they've grown from little five year olds who refuses to leave yours and the captain's side; to a couple of seven year olds who cannot stand still for even a moment while they run around the ship looking to annoy someone. Usually it's Ned or James, but today, the little ones prefer to watch as the beloved ship anchors down near a lonesome island.

You pop in next to them, arm snaking around their shoulders, chin placed on top of Billie's curls that you've personally braided for today. You're still in awe at how much they look like Hobie now, so much so that you've questioned Hobie where he was seven years ago and if he had relations during that time. To which he always (lovingly) jabs you with his chin above your shoulder, whispering in your ear, saying that there was nobody else. And he definitely has never been in the town where Billie and Mona’s orphanage once resided. You believe him of course, but you never miss a chance to tease him about it.

Maybe they're starting to look like him because his love for the twins are so strong that it's starting to show on them. You like that idea better.

The entire crew loves them too, Finn always makes whatever they want to eat even if he just cleaned up for the night. Because of the girls, there's always an abundance of chocolate and sweets on board, to which you couldn't complain about. Yuri teaches them how to climb up the crow’s nest, which was a scare to you at first. You or Hobie always wait down at the deck with arms out just in case. Because of Ned, they're an expert at sewing, you once joked to Ned that they'll replace him one day. He sulked the entire day, you had to give him a peace offering of Finn's finest wine after that. And if suddenly the girls have gone missing, they're almost always by Miles, Pavitr, and Gwen, who are all happy to babysit them. To which Hobie always takes the opportunity to yank you into the captain's quarters to hoard you all to himself.

“Are you excited?” You mumble into Billie’s hair, hand rubbing softly at Mona's shoulder where Billie accidentally hit her with a toy wooden sword just yesterday.

“Mm-hmm!” Billie nods enthusiastically, while her sister stares at the lush island a few miles away.

“It's so pretty.” Mona whispers in awe. She turns her head towards you with a smile. “Do you really think the treasure's there?”

“Of course—”

“The map never lies, cheese.” Hobie pops up from nowhere, sliding up next to Mona's side, winking briefly at you, you chuckle softly, hand already reaching for him. Mona looks up at him with admiration, giving him a wide toothy smile while her sister does the same. “It's just like what Miles said, he pinpointed exactly where it is.”

“Uncle Miles is a genius!” Billie screeches, Hobie meets your hand halfway, immediately cupping your hand behind the girls' back.

“He’s brilliant!” Mona happily jumps in place when Finn starts to uncover the dinghy boat from the side of the ship.

Hobie mocks offense, “what ‘bout me and Y/N then? We're the one who got the map for you two.” He's right, sort of.

You and Hobie made the map yourselves for the anniversary of the day they fell into your arms. You both worked day and night to perfect it, making elaborate riddles that made the red sail pirates bend over backwards to sail all over the south end of the country to where you and your captain laid ‘traps’ and more riddles that would lead to the ‘treasure map’ of their dreams. The crew was on board the entire time, but you've never anticipated how fast the girls figured all the riddles out. It took them less than a week to find the map when you and Hobie thought it would take at least three weeks. Now the so-called treasure hunt is finished early, a few weeks off the anniversary.

“Oh, you and mum helped too, dad.” Mona grins at you and then to Hobie. You can never get used to the titles, your heart always sings whenever they call you ‘mum’ or more sweetly, ‘mummy’. Hobie shares the same testament, he feels like dancing whenever they call him ‘dad’ or ‘captain dad’.

Billie stares at Hobie, you can tell that she's up to something. “Nah, you were little help, dad. Mum at least got us satchels for the treasure.” You hide your laughter over Billie's head.

Hobie gasps, chuckles poking through the act. “‘Little help?’” the girls giggle at his reaction. “‘Little help?!’” The laughter gets louder as Hobie wildly throws his long arms about. “Whose bloody ship brought you to all the places, huh?” With a heave, he scoops them in his arms, lifting them and carrying them over his shoulders. You wish you could capture the moment as your little found family plays around your home.

“Mummy's!” They both exclaim, shrieking happily. Hobie fakes another offended gasp, blowing raspberries on each of their sides while he slyly moves over to the raised dinghy.

“That is a crime against your captain!” He yells, raising them up above his head effortlessly while you watch on with the biggest grin. “What is the verdict, my dear medic?”

You tamp down a laugh, matching his acting. “Sounds like the punishment is thrown overboard, my cap'n.”

Hobie winks at you, the girls scream as their dad ‘throws them overboard’. Their eyes widen at the treachery, but Finn, who has been waiting in the dinghy with arms open, catches them without a hitch. You exhale properly once they're safe and sound in his big burly arms. You trust Hobie and his aim, but you don't trust the wind and gravity.

The girls kick about, while Finn is unbothered, watching the bundles in his arms. “Thank you for catching them, Finn.” You say, climbing down on the dinghy with Hobie's hand helping you down. He grunts in reply, releasing the twins back into your arms.

The girls clamber their way into your lap, sending death glares at Hobie who sits down across from you. Finn gets out of the boat, slowly letting the small boat down into the tides.

“What?” Hobie asks, acting innocent. Billie and Mona huff at him, tiny fists wrapped around your (Hobie's) leather vest. “I was just followin’ orders! Your mum delivered the verdict!” They turn to you simultaneously, you stumble on your words.

“Mum!” Their furrowed brows would be adorable but they have the same fire in their eyes that you sport when need be.

“Sorry?”

It was an awkward rowing for only a moment until you placate them with chocolates that you've hidden under the seat just for the occasion. They've forgotten about you and Hobie's transgressions the moment they bit into the sugary treat.

Billie's the first person to rush into the sandy beach when the boat reached the island. She grabs Mona by the hand, giddily bouncing up and down in excitement. Hobie pulls the boat inwards while you watch the girls count their steps according to the map in their hands.

You follow behind, hearing their little arguments as they get turned around in confusion. Hobie's arm snakes around your waist, face tucked into your neck, sighing as his shoulders relax.

“Hi,” you smile, craning your neck to peck at his temple. “What are you doing?”

“Sniffin’”

“Ah, continue on, captain.”

After a beat, with you and Hobie spectating the twins, Hobie mumbles into your neck. “Do you remember the first time we were on this island?”

You smile fondly, still following the girls as they walk inside the lush greenery. The familiar canopy shields you from the sun, Hobie straightens up, hand sliding down to hold your hand. “I do, some of it was bad, but it was mostly good I think.”

He squeezes your hand, “yeah? It was all worth it wasn't it?”

The girls finally stop in front of a pomegranate tree that has fully blossomed. They pause in awe before noticing the red ‘x’ beneath their feet. They take the little shovels that Hobie made, excitedly pulling it out of their satchels, digging immediately with a grin.

You sniff, meeting his grey eyes. “It was. It was all worth it.”

Hobie smiles, arms finding penchant on your hips, pulling you close until you're chest to chest with him. You cup his jaw, his stubble making you chuckle as you rub gently along his jawline. He moves his head down to press a kiss against your palm, eyes never leaving your own.

You lean closer, heart thrumming, lips brushing along his own—

“We found it!” Billie exclaims, while Mona dances around the wooden chest that you and everyone who loves and cares for the girls have prepared for them. You two move away from each other quickly.

“What are you waitin' for?” Hobie matches his girls' energy. “Open it then!” The second they're occupied, he pulls you back into his arms, giving you a chaste yet saccharin kiss that leaves you breathless, that reminds you of the first time he kissed you under the moonlight.

[bowieandqueen11]

Moonlight Dalliance / Izzy Hands Imagine

Request: I wrote this a couple of weeks ago but I think I might have accidentally deleted it off Tumblr because I can’t find it now! Hope you enjoy and I’ll have another request out asap! 😘

Warning: spicy, implied sexual content, sword fighting, mentions of blood and some strong language!

(I do not own OFMD or it’s characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @goodsirs.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

Before you had even reached the deck, you could hear the clashing of steel reverberating through your bunk.

If it hadn't been for the pouring of sawdust through the cracks in the ceiling beams that rained down like ash over your nostrils: if it hadn't been for the graceful leaps of careful footsteps lightly stepping in box squares above your hammock, you might have chalked down the noise to Roach's snoring. In fact, as you swing your legs over to your side and try, as quietly as possible, to land on the floor of the recreation room without waking as many as your ship mates as possible, said cook was trying to do his best impression of what could only be called a foghorn mixed with an incredibly rusty blender.

'For God's sake-!' The sound of Lucius' voice disturbing you as you were trying to tip toe towards the door almost makes you jump out of your skin. Unravelling Black Pete's arm from around his waist, he gives a final groan into the side of his pillow before throwing it in a wide arch straight at Roach's head. 'If you don't stop snoring I'll stick my wooden thumb, splinters and all, straight up your ar-.'

Thankfully, the sound of you wincing as you grab onto the handle and inch the hinges slowly backwards is drowned out by a stout HMPH as Lucius' pillow lands on Button's stomach. You can't help but let out a snicker at the way the man shoots straight up from his slumber like a scarecrow being raised in a field. He arches one eyebrow and glanced around intently. 'Attack, we're under attack!' You take the opportunity of your fellow crewmates either lunging out of their hammocks, or being tipped out onto the floor during the frantic hustle and bustle that followed to escape out to the helm of the ship. In fact, Wee John seemed to take far too much pleasure out of twirling the Swede's hammock so that the man ended up a mess of tangled limbs, yelping like a fly caught up in a spider's web as Oluwande tried to grab his arm and pull him back out. You didn't mind the good natured jostle of your friends: you had spent so much of the evening tossing and turning, unable to get the thought of one arrogant prick in particular out of your mind, and so the excuse to leave your bunk and get some fresh air was more than welcome.

The sea air - god, the sea air felt so kind on your tired lungs.

The night seemed fragile, the moonlight tender as it spilt over the creaking boards of the ship and pooled in a warm puddle around your feet. It seemed to widen within your eyes, a fine mist spraying like a wicked phantasm from its shadows and coating the surrounding sea in thin tendrils of smoke. With a mind hazed with tiredness, you rubbed at the corners of your eyes and tried to chase away that dream-like glow only the late night could bring. The sails caught in the mild wind and groaned above you, masking out the sounds of Izzy's short pants as he wiped his forehead with the untucked end of his shirt. In fact, not realising yet that you were standing only a mere few metres away from him, he grabbed his shoulder and tugged his shirt off completely, discarding it with a frustrated throw at Stede's cabin doors.

Two hands grip tighter on the wood, willing its body to relax. The tang of salt could do nothing to burn away the fizzling want banging against your ribcage, nor could the cool pinch of the helm railings distract you from the fact that you had spent every second of that day restless; as if on repeat, every time you closed your eyes, or had your thoughts distracted away from repairing the helm, or talking to Lucius, or exploring the islands Stede had insisted you all stop at so he could take Edward off on some grand adventure, you were taken back to that afternoon. The feel of Izzy Hands, the soft ache in his eyes, so desolate, so hopeful: when he had been congratulating you on a job well done fighting off some remote Englishman who had tried to ambush your crew once you had docked, and behind the thrum of his beating heart he hadn't the wit to stop his arm from reaching out and brushing the back of his knuckles against the droplets of blood splattered on your cheek.

His smile had dropped almost immediately of course, and he had run like a gun was being unloaded against his heels back into his quarters and hid there for the night, but the look in his eyes when he had touched you... god, if it wasn't enough to make Davy Jones repent his sins, for even his adoration for Calypso would seem like hatred in comparison.

Yet only the smoky gleam of the moon melting over the champagne waves kept your aching head company. The moon, being a sneaky temptress, was in fact the one thing that drew you to the cause of your distraction; squinting down onto the deck, it took you a minute to remember the reason you had come up here in the first place.

Izzy Hands. In the flesh. And lots of it, if the sweaty gleam of his bare chest was anything to go by.

It takes a moment for your mind to shape the shifting umbra into a perceptible form: he looks angry, furious, even, as his sword slices the misty air like swiss cheese and gives lashes to the main mast. The cherry wood cracks easily under the weight of his blows, the poor shaved shards that land by his feet obviously taking the brunt of the walloping you can only assume is meant for your captain.

Swallowing your nerves, you call out to the fickle shape. 'What are you doing wandering about at a time like this?'

He startles as you wander across the ship towards him, perching back against the side of the mast he was currently tearing to shreds. Incredulously, he looks you up and down before bowing his sword. Your laughter sweetens the edge of his blade, and for a moment Izzy's step falters at the sound.

‘I could ask you the very same thing. Don't you know that all the horrifying creatures slink out from the depths after the full moon rises.' He tilts his head at you, pushing his tongue up against his teeth to stop a smile from breaking like welcome dawn across his face. 'Would hate to see you get dragged away by something... wanton.'

You scratch your cheek, trying your best to hide how you were growing flustered at his words. 'Well, at least if I get dragged away I'll be going with clothes on.’

He flushed at that, head tilting down as he crossed his arms gruffly over his abdomen and blinked languidly.

'What are you actually still doing awake?', you ask, crossing your arms and doing your best not to fantasize about leaping forward and ripping the rest of his trousers straight off with one tear.

'I couldn't sleep.' What he didn't tell you, was that he couldn't sleep because he was so in love with you his heart felt like it was going to bleed out of his fucking chest any time he tried to distract himself from thoughts of you.

'Yeah, neither could I.' What you didn't tell him, was that you couldn't sleep because you were dreaming of grabbing Izzy by that scruffy collar and kissing him silly.

A tense silence suffocated the two of you, sliced only by Izzy shooting his sword through the air with one last precise carve through the freshly hollowed mast. Izzy whips out his wrist, clenching his fingers into a tight fist to try and alleviate some of the burning tension running through his joints at the desperation to touch you.

‘You did well today. As much as I hate to admit it, you can fight better than any of those other morons.’

‘A compliment? From Izzy Hands? Pinch me, I must still be dream-‘

‘Your footwork is a little rusty, though. Could use some work, so you don’t trip over and fall on your own bloody sword.’

‘There we go. There’s always a but with you, isn’t there? You can’t just give the compliment and leave it hanging.’

'I'm just saying... it would be a real shame to pierce such a breast.' Your breath hitches as his eyes dip down to contemplate the sliver of skin still on show between the free flowing buttons of your dress shirt. He sniffles, fingers almost indiscernibly tightening around the metal of the hilt as he did his best to stifle the overflowing shiver that was running up and down his legs. He keeps a tight watch on you for a moment, before biting his bottom lip with his top teeth and darting his eyes out towards the ocean, both incredibly aroused and also incredibly sheepish from having shown such weakness.

'And to ruin such a fine blade.'

He runs his hand across his beard, motion tired yet calculated. Too jolted to speak, let alone run away back down to your bunk and hide your head underneath Oluwande's arm for the rest of time, you leave Izzy the perfect opportunity to pounce.

’Here… come here’, his knuckles fold as he beckons you forward with one hand, his other still resting on the hilt of his rapier as he jabbed it into the floor and let it drop after a moment. If he had let it go just then, as he watched the swish of your hips approach him, he had a pretty good feeling his knees would buckle underneath him. ‘I have far more experience than you do. You ought to learn from a real pirate. Not the hoity toity arsehole that runs around this ship like a headless chicken.’

‘If I remember correctly’, you say sharply with a growing smile, ‘you lost against that headless chicken.’

‘Don’t.’ Before you have time to realise what’s happening, Izzy has grabbed you by the waist and rugged you back. He prays you didn’t hear the hoarse groan that jilted from the back of his throat as your buttocks bounced back against the tensed muscles of his lower abdomen. His voice is gruff and warm against the shell of your ear, but his fingertips burn with the ferociousness of a thousand lantern fires as he snakes his free hand around your shoulders and grips onto the bottom of your chin.

'Don't tease me. It won't end well for you.' His thumb digs into your jaw as he tilts your head back, and you can feel his smirk branding it’s way into the bare strip of skin between the nape or your neck and the hollow of your earlobe. Your head is fully resting back against his forehead now, and his vice on you only lessens once he’s content that you’re too far gone to step away from him.

'Put your foot... here', he guides your right foot forward with the toe of his boot, almost sinfully slowly so he could feel every twitch and tense of your quadriceps against the inside of his thigh. 'There you go, lean your weight forward-'.

He tips you then, doubling you over so your back is pushed down against his groin. You swear you can feel the curls of his hair fall in loose curls down against the small of your back, gathering that his head must be hovering just above your tailbone. For your own sake, to stop your legs from turning into jelly and letting your full weight fall so easily into Izzy's grip, you pretend the haunting moaning sound you hear must be from the hinges of the sails as they turn through the night sky.

'Perfect form', he breathes out in a short gasp against the shell of your ear once he's collected himself, his arm tightening around your stomach as he places you. His right hand drags down your arm, teasingly burning a trail right down over the back of your hand and onto your fingers as he entraps them with his own. He turns your hand, his own clenching so they fold over your own. 'That's it, now jut forward and strike.'

His knee pushes against the side of your buttocks as he jumps the two of you forward; he shoves a little too harshly, though, and just before your feet nearly trip backwards over the rotund exterior of a rogue barrel, Izzy's hand has shot out like a viper to latch its teeth around your wrist. His fingers squeeze as he tilts you upright again, a sharp exhale whistling out of his nose at how close you come to falling into his chest.

'You're not a bad teacher', you manage to laugh out between gasps, 'but unless you're packing... who doesn't bring a weapon to a sword fight?' Straddling to the side, you manage to slide down and grab onto his discarded sword, sweeping the tip through the air until it landed just below his chin. Tilting the skin up, you gaze down at him through dropped eyelids, his fingers now nearly convulsing against your wrist.

You manage to break free of his hold, grabbing onto his bare arm and pulling him so now he was the one caught in your trap. Your bicep holds around his stomach, moving with each tremble of his breath as you graze the sharp edge of his rapier down across his face and jut it under his jaw.

The bastard only smiles as you hold the edge of his blade against his throat.

'Did you really think you could win this fight?', he asks between the tight lips of a knowing smile, and it takes you a second to realise that his free hand has wrapped round to hold onto yours on top of the handle. He shoves the blade away, kicking out with his foot so you trip backwards. He easily catches you before you hit the ground.

You dance your fingers up his chest as he holds you tight against him, dipped down like lovers do during the first dance. All the stars burn deep within the depths of his soul, pouring out like razing destruction from his eyes as he keeps darting a path between your nose, and back down to your lips.

'I don't think you won this either, Izzy Hands. In fact, I think we both lost something here.' You spread your fingers out over the bare skin across his pec, feeling the flittering thud of his heart pound out against your fingertips.

By god, if he had ever been so delighted to lose.

His lips ravish you like a man shrivelled under the island sun, desperate to drown; before your gasp can fully deflate from your lungs, your legs have been kicked out from underneath you by a swift and skilled kick from the side of his boot.

Oh, he had been planning this for a long time. Had been thinking of nothing but this since he had boarded this vessel. The tightness of his arm as it snakes around your back and stops your shoulders from taking the brunt of the bounce off the boards: the way he throws his rapier behind his back without a second care, instead replacing his clenched fingers with the reddened meat of your hip as he levers you down was far too precise and meticulous to be a mere spur of the moment, subconscious thought.

An uncomfortable heat shivers over your torso and settles as an anchor weight in the pit of your stomach as Izzy grazes his right hand over the top of your thigh. Plop. Plop. Plop. His leather gloves ball as he taps his finger one by one, teasingly, against your inner thigh, using them to shove your legs wider apart. His lips pull away with a sickeningly sweet pop from your neck only for a second, as he breathlessly glances his eyes in a jagged path across your face.

He looks wonderstruck.

You can't help but reach out to touch the tough muscle of his left peck, swirling your finger across the short strands of his chest hair. The soft scrape of your fingernail soon turns into your fingers fully spreading out like the tendrils of a swift current once you feel him bury his head into the curve of your neck; his chin juts into your pulse point and the bastard has the audacity to whimper at the feel of your palm brushing over the hardened tip of his nipple.

If he wasn't living out all of his deepest, darkest dreams, the man nearly collapsed on top of you may have felt embarrassed at the way his pelvis began to buck down and brush the tightening leather over the rising line of skin underneath your belly button. In your turn to be bashful, you can feel a flush crawl over your cheeks as Izzy grabs onto the bottom of your thigh and tugs you closer, fist clenching over your ankle as he throws your right leg up and over the side of his hip bone. His hands are surprisingly soft, surprisingly gentle as he claws and kneads and mewls into you, his lips dragging down and over to the side of your jaw now with quick, tempered nicks.

You're scared his skin is going to melt off at the bone with how it burns against your hip: it holds tightly to the side of your pelvis, his thumb toying with the tassels hanging from the band of your trousers as he impetuously grinds down against you again. You can feel his shit eating smirk as the flat edge of his tongue licks a hot streak up to the shell of your ear; he bites down, tugging at your earlobe and clenching his fingernails so tightly into the soft skin at the side of your buttocks that you were amazed he didn't draw blood.

‘What on earth was that noise?! What’s going on up here! Which hooligan is up making a ruckus on my ship? And so late! I know you wanted another bedtime story, but I told you, we all need our beauty sleep!’

The glim flicker of a handheld candle illuminated out from the stairway as the ruffled hair of your captain peered out past the door like a startled meerkat. With wide eyes, he mustered the courage to lift up the skirts of his nightshirt and take a step out onto the deck, away from the safety of Ed's gentle snores as they billowed out through the crack.

Before your captain can spot the two of you caught in such an awkward position: Izzy grinding against you like a needy dog, your hand bunched into a tight fist in his hair and your legs wrapped tightly around his taut waist, he shoves a gloved finger to your lips. Annoyed at being disturbed, you tilt the hand gripping his hair backwards and smirk to yourself as Izzy dips his head down to land between your breast bone to try and hide his groans.

Before you can tease him anymore, he's gripped onto your wrist and is tugging you up; he's near carrying you bridle style in his arms as he slips past the railings of the ship, mingling in with the shadows. His hand covers your mouth to stop your giggles, carrying you off down to the bunk of his room so the two of you can carry on your midnight dalliance where your poor, confused captain wouldn't be able to hear the pounding of the bed as its frame shudders against the wall and your screams echo out against the silent moonlight.

[moraxsthrone]

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ — KAEYA'S WEDDING DAY: HEADCANONS

consider yourself warned: sfw. agonizing fluff. depending on how much of a sap you are, you may want to have some tissue handy?

♡ when the massive doors of the cathedral open, it’s a long walk to the altar where he’s waiting for you. 

♡ what feels like half the city of mond turns to look at you as you make your way down the aisle, but the whole world disappears when you see him. 

♡ as though casting a spotlight on him, a lone sunbeam illuminates the space where your fiancée stands, proud and tall.

♡ the sight of him takes your breath away. 

♡ he’s decked out in his knights of favonius-issued dress uniform, complete with his captain rank insignia displayed on the shoulder and breast of his coat - a rare sight indeed. 

♡ (you can thank jean later.) 

♡ he even had a matching white eyepatch with gold trim tailored especially for the occasion. 

♡ he looks so noble and distinguished, regal even: a prince, ready to receive his princess.

♡ pinches the bridge of his nose when he sees you, inwardly cursing himself bc he swore he wouldn’t cry. 

♡ (he wasn’t crying, his eyes were sparkling. there’s a difference, he’ll tell you later.) 

♡ his fingers swipe under his eyepatch to wipe his tears away before they can betray him.

♡ he honestly never thought he’d find himself here - standing at the altar, watching someone who loves him - the real him - walk towards him with a wide grin, glowing, wanting nothing more than to spend the rest of her life with him. him, of all people. 

♡ before he met you, he was terminally alone, resigned to a life of bachelor-hood. 

♡ because who could he even be honest with? to whom could he ever tell the truth about his identity, his past, his ancestry, and still be accepted? 

♡ he took a huge gamble the night he told you - not everything, but enough - and he’ll never forget the way you looked at him and said, “i’m so sorry you were abandoned like that. you were just a child, groomed to be played as a pawn in an old man’s war game. that should’ve never happened to you, kaeya.” 

♡ then you brushed his cerulean hair away from his right eye, smiled at him, and told him the words he never dreamed he would hear in response to his truth. “i love you, kaeya, and i’ll never abandon you. i want you to know that.”

♡ when you finally make it to the altar and he takes your hand in his, the dam breaks and your muffled sobs can be heard throughout the congregation, several of whom join you. 

♡ “you look so handsome, kaeya,” you tell him in a choked whisper. 

♡ “and you look stunning as always, my love," he mouths back, his thick eyelashes wet with unshed tears.

♡ nearly every elderly lady in mondstat is in attendance and CRYING HER FUCKING EYES OUT.

♡ if your own grandmother is in attendance, she’s crying even harder bc she’s the lucky one who gets to have kaeya alberich as her grandson-in-law.

♡ the knights host an “official” reception for the entire city. it’s too formal and stuffy for your and kaeya's taste. but the two of you remain in your wedding attire and play the part, maintaining decorum as you receive the city's well-wishes and gifts.

♡ but as soon as it’s over, you both breathe sighs of relief, change into your street clothes and head over to angel’s share for your “personal” reception where only your closest friends and loved ones gather for a night of drinking and shenanigans.

♡ even diluc finds an opportunity to pull kaeya aside and bid him congratulations. and for once kaeya genuinely thanks him without tacking on a cheeky comment afterward. it’s a heartfelt exchange between brothers, man to man.

♡ just before midnight, kaeya brushes past you, stealthily telling you to meet him on the balcony before continuing on up the spiral staircase. 

♡ moments later, you find an excuse to break from the conversation you’ve been stuck in and follow him. 

♡ you ease the balcony door open to find your husband leaning with his elbows on the wooden railing, looking out onto the street below. 

♡ he turns his head to look at you with pure adoration in his eye and a genuine smile that says he’s happy that you’ve managed to join him there. 

♡ he stands up straight and reaches into his coat to pull out a bottle of champagne. 

♡ “kaeya! did you sneak that from the bar stash?” 

♡ “sshhhh. it’s better if you don’t know. plausible deniability.” 

♡ “i can’t take you anywhere.” 

♡ “now what kind of pirate would i be if i didn’t steal some booze?” 

♡ you shake your head at him and giggle as he pops the top, a little of the bubbly spilling over the bottleneck. 

♡ “to us”, he toasts simply. 

♡ “to us,” you agree. 

♡ he kisses you there on the tiny balcony of angel’s share, sweet and tender, and it becomes the most memorable moment of your entire wedding day. 

♡ after all the fanfare and the hooplah, it is on the balcony of an old, dusty tavern where it’s just the two of you, and you finally have a quiet moment of romantic respite. 

♡ he calls you mrs. alberich for the first time and asks you for a dance. 

♡ the music and atmosphere downstairs is cheery and upbeat, but you dance slowly together to the beat of your own hearts. 

♡ with your head tucked under his chin, your ear pressed to his chest, you look over and see the hand that holds yours and there’s a golden ring. 

♡ it has your name engraved inside the band ‘y/n alberich’, just as yours does his. 

♡ and so with a stolen bottle of champagne as your witness, you dance hand in hand, cheek to cheek, whispering the first of the same promises to each other that you will for years to come.

kaeya m.list

♡ reblog, if you please? i kiss.

[uglypastels]

Not Wholly Evil |I| Pirate!Eddie au

summary: as the daughter of the Governor, there is quite a heavy prize set on your safe return home, and the captain will not let anything come between him and his bounty.

Series Masterlist

word count: 5.6k

"semi dark fic" - READ the warnings:. (gun/sword)violence. blood. minor character death. allusions to suicide. kidnapping. imprisonment. alcohol. open and deep sea. pirates are pigs: frequent mentions of non-con and allusions to assault, but it does not actually occur. malnourishment. abuse. manhandling.

There might be a mention of other ST characters, and for plot sake, everyone is an adult here, just coz I don't want fetus pirates running around, but they are not really relevant to the plot.

Chapter 1: The Death of the Red Tail

“I dare say that we are all savages under the cloak that civilization fashions for us."

- Rafael Sabatini, Captain Blood

You were startled awake, once more, by the sound of the metal scraping over the wooden planks. Again, the harsh noise pricked at your ears. Over the past few days, you had done your best to get used to all the loud noises aboard. Still, they tended to occur at the most random of times, usually when you had finally managed to fall asleep, pulling you right back to reality, which, ironically, was your nightmare. 

‘Didn’t mean to wake you up, Princess,’ the man chuckled, to which you did not respond. You never responded to what he, or any of them, had to say. Instead, you barely acknowledged him as he passed your jug of water between the steel bars. The roughness of his movements made the already meek amount spill out. ‘Breakfast’s served.’ 

It was dark below deck, with the only light coming through the small windows atop the walls, letting sun rays hit the ground at your feet in a circle. It was just enough of a light source for you to see what you were surrounded with. Barrels and crates filled with Gods know what. Next to you was a thin fleece that was supposed to keep you warm through the night but barely ever sufficed at its job. 

After the jug of water, he threw you your breakfast: a piece of stale bread and a severely bruised apple. The bread fell into your lap, but you managed to catch the fruit quite easily, which you then also put down in your lap, looking down at your old dirty dress, not saying a word. Miserably, you toyed with the slice of bread, the lack of appetite weirdly not corresponding to your hunger. The food was far from edible, but it was also the only thing that came close to it, so it would make due. You had taught yourself to fight through the dryness and tastelessness.

‘A thank you would be nice, Princess,’ he snarled, but you didn’t even look up at his comment. Ever since you had been brought down there, you had made it your goal to exchange as few words as possible with these men, even when they started rattling the bars around, trying to catch your attention. Even when they slammed their hands on it, making you jump. But, finally, after a third slam, you snapped.

‘You gone deaf, too, now?’ he spoke louder.

‘I would be more than happy to thank you if there was anything to be thankful for.’ You rolled your eyes. You had grabbed small opportunities to ask for more food and water, begging to be let out of the tiny cell to stretch your legs and get some fresh air and every time you were met with nothing. It was the definition of insanity, wasn’t it? To do the same thing expecting different results? But you weren’t expecting anything. You were hoping. Desperate that something would change one day, and the odds would turn in your favour. Just once. That was all you asked of the universe.

‘We could easily let you starve, so better shut it.’ He pointed at you sternly, but you knew it was a big bluff. And it angered you. A rage slowly cooking inside you rose to a boiling point. You couldn’t keep it in any longer.

‘No, you shut it,’ as swiftly as you could manage on your weak legs, you got up and made your way over to the bars that separated you and the man. He backed away, clearly not having anticipated your sudden move, but he was too slow, and you still managed to snatch at his collar, pulling him back to you. Then, gritting your teeth, you spat your words into his face. ‘I have been stuck here for days, begging for the smallest amounts of decency from you, and so far, I have been laughed at in my face every. Single. Time. 

‘So, you can try and scare me with your empty threats, but I know you need me alive and well for you to get your gold. Dead, I am worth nothing. So, I doubt your captain would enjoy hearing that something happened to me on your watch.’

‘You wouldn’t dare,’ his eyes narrowed into tentative slits, as did yours. 

‘I don’t think you really want to wait and see if I do. Because I don’t know about you, but that rope over there looks like it would make a grand necklace. Do you think that beam up there could hold me up?’ you cocked your head up to a point at the ceiling. His eyes followed your movements and the rope hanging just arm’s length away from the holding cell. Suddenly, his throat tightened as he tried to swallow. 

‘What do you want?’

‘I want to get out of here,’ you said, gritting your teeth. You didn’t dare look away from his eyes, which were just as cold as you felt. You thought you might finally have cracked one of them for a second, but then he managed to pull himself out of your grip.  He kept muttering curse words directed at you as he climbed the stairs up the deck. ‘Remember, I have nothing to lose!’ you shouted out after him, one final attempt, just in time before he slammed the trapdoor behind him.

You sat back down. Heart beating against your ribs and a smile covering your lips for the first time in a long time. The adrenaline from the little stunt quickly deflated out of you, and you folded your legs into your chest.

It was stupid. It would only anger them more, and the last thing a person wants is to be stuck on a ship, in the middle of an ocean, with a crew of scoundrels. For people like them... the smallest of annoyances could cost you your life. No matter how much it was worth to them.

Biting into your apple, ignoring the slight sourness, you tried to keep your breathing steady. Then, with closed eyes, you listened to the sea hitting the ship's side as it sailed on through them. If you sat there long enough, you could almost make yourself believe that you were not locked up in a small cell at the bottom of a rotting ship. That you were, in fact, in your own cabin on the Red Tail. Your father’s ship, sailing home.

You were not meant to be there. You had insisted on coming along, wanting to see something of the world, being exhausted of never going further beyond the outskirts of your city. You had been yearning for that space.

It had been a sunny day, with just enough wind blowing through the sails to progress the journey, only a little longer until you would reach your destination. The crew was happy, relieved to be so close to the end. As much as it was an honour to work under the Governor’s orders, to sail for weeks on end over the open sea was a dangerous and exhausting task. 

Everything suddenly changed when someone yelled it out. You weren’t even sure what they had said, but by the reactions from everyone around you, it was easy to guess. 

Pirates.

Before you could even ask to be sure, you were dragged back inside to the Captain’s quarters and told to hide. So, hide, you did. 

It took the ship a while to make contact. And all this time, you remained seated under the oak desk. It was the calm before the storm. You knew the canons would soon go off, and the ships would be punched with holes. The pirates would jump ship; they would attack and destroy. You could hear it all happening outside. The swords clinking, the guns going off, the wreckage, and the screams. It was all too much. 

The minutes between the canons were the worst. Your ears were still ringing, and all you could do was anticipate the subsequent explosion and the shaking of your whole world. And then they would go off, and you had to do your best to follow the orders you were given. Be still and be quiet. They would take care of it. Your safety was everyone’s priority. 

And yet, you felt shame wash over you at the idea that you were hiding while the men were out there, fighting. You felt useless and small, like a child. Cradling yourself to make your being as small as you could underneath that desk. The canons only seemed to be getting louder and louder. You couldn’t block the thundering and destruction on the other side of the door. 

Perhaps you had screamed. You couldn’t remember. Everything was a blur. But something must have given you away in the end. How could they have known you were aboard? In the captain’s quarters? Nothing else made sense, but they heard your panic. They could sense it, being the predators they were.

It took all of your inner power not to scream when the door to the quarters burst open. At first, you thought a cannonball must have just burst through the wall, but it was much worse. Pairs of boots slowly made their way towards you. You closed your eyes and tried to stay calm; in your mind, the words of your mother’s lullaby swept by. The same old song she used to sing you during dark and stormy nights. That was all this was… a storm… and it would soon pass…

‘Gotcha,’ the voice sounded acidic and vile. You opened your eyes to be met with a pair of stormy grey ones, so cold it made your blood freeze. He smiled at you with a toothy grin, which only made you crawl back under the desk. There was nowhere for you to go, and he knew that. So did his lanky friend as they both reached out for you and pulled you out from beneath the furniture. Your skirt hiked up as it grazed over the floor, and you did your best to keep it down and over your legs. 

‘No, please, no,’ you tried to sound as assertive as possible, ignoring your urges to scream and cry out. With little care, they pulled you up on your feet. Standing face to face with them almost should have taken away some of your fear, for you realised they could not be much older than you, perhaps even younger, but you still felt your legs shake. 

‘You gonna come with us?’ he wouldn’t stop smiling at you, which was unnerving. But, of course, only a truly evil person would find joy in such circumstances, a severely disturbed and corrupt individual. 

You took your shot, trying to wring your arms out of their hold. You thought you might have slipped out of one of their grips for a second, but then he pushed you forward, nearly making you fall as you stumbled over your feet. With each step they made you take, you tried to defy them, thrash around like a freshly caught fish, really, much to your own embarrassment. But it wasn’t doing any good. The net just tightened around you with each attempt at freedom. 

You had imagined what was happening in the rest of the ship, but the reality you were met with was even worse. The vessel was in shambles. The broken mast had fallen, and the sails were ripped to shreds. The clinking of swords was still coming from all angles. Some of the men noticed you, captured by the enemies and tried to reach you. Fighting off the scoundrels with their long swords, to no avail. The fight was not a fair match. The people you travelled with were mostly sailors, never having learned how to fight correctly. They were all going off of survival instincts. 

You heard your name being called to you from the side, and you could see the worried face of admiral Carver as he pushed his way through lines of enemies. You made another attempt to free yourself from the men's grips, pulling yourself toward the admiral, the man appointed to keep you safe throughout your journey… to think that mere days ago, you had both joked he was nearly futile in these endeavours. 

The chaos around you ensued as men fought, bled, and died. 

The blood was everywhere. 

It was all going too fast. The hold the cruel men held on you was too tight to attempt anything, and before you knew what was happening, you were being led across the plank connecting the two ships. 

A gunshot went off. One of the men holding on to you went limp, letting go of you. You didn’t dare to look, but you could tell by the shift of weight on the wooden bridge that there was one person less standing beside you. And indeed, a second later, a splash followed as his body hit the water beneath you. 

Not by choice, you turned around the thin piece of wood as the other man holding you looked over to where the gunshot came from. Carver stood at the foot of the plank. Gun barrel still smoking, pointing right at your aggressor. The admiral had an admirable shot, so you had no worries about his aim. But that shot never came. The two men on the opposite sides of the bridge locked eyes with intimidation coming off both of them in great amounts, but the trigger was never pulled. Before Carver could, you screamed in horror as tears stung your eyes. 

You were pulled the few final steps across the plank, almost pushed down to the ground, for you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the sight of your loyal admiral falling to the deck of his ship. His white shirt was stained red, and the staining only grew larger and larger. He had just enough time to look down at his bleeding chest before he fell to his knees. The sword stuck out from his back. 

‘No!’ your scream pierced through everyone’s ears as you tried to get out of your capturer’s hold and run back to your own ship, to your people, but it was too late. They had removed the wood that connected the vessels. You were stuck, and the Red Tail seemed significantly smaller. 

It was sinking.

It only took a few minutes before everyone and the viscous sea ate everything you knew. Days later, it was still painful to look out at the horizon, seeing the vastness of the waters. 

The seemingly neverending darkness that had swallowed those who fought for you, hoping to keep you safe. And for what… you were now stuck in this prison. Eating the damned apple. For the first few days, you tortured yourself by refusing their offers of food. A form of protest that no one seemed to be much impressed by. The myths of poor Persephone had come to your mind in those moments. Thinking how the goddess had been tricked by the evil Hades, all for a measly pit of a fruit. 

But your body screamed for nutrients, and you could not deprive yourself much more of your own life. To die at sea could be an honour for many, but not in a dark cell captured by the enemy. You had no intentions of dying because of your stubbornness, but you would never give in to what they wanted. If it came to be, you would pass on your own terms.

It was days now since the Red Tail sank. During your first moments on board, you had a naive hope that you had not been the only person taken. That somewhere around, someone else was here with you. A known face, a name you didn’t have to fear. The idea of the possibility brought you a little comfort, but soon you realised the harsh truth. You were entirely on your own here. But worse, even, was that you realised that, perhaps, death in battle and the fierce ocean waves would have been a kinder sentence than the horrors awaiting you aboard this vessel. 

It had all started in the moments the Red Tail was abandoned. You kept your eyes on its crow nest, reaching out from above the water like a desperate hand in need of a saviour. 

But you had no option but to dwell on the wreckage or the lost souls of your friends. Not when you were surrounded by dozens of men looking hungrily at you as if you were nothing but a piece of meat for them to devour. They were closing in on you; there was nowhere to go. Any direction you looked… 

Surrounded by wild men screaming and tugging at you from each side, pulling you from side to side like a rag doll. They all wanted a little fun, but playtime was cut short rather quickly by the simple sounds of boots tapping over the floorboards. Everyone looked up as his voice loomed over everybody:

‘Well, well, well, what do we have here?’ It sounded almost whimsical, bemused. Everyone froze as the captain approached his crew. Even you did, looking up as he walked down the quarterdeck towards the large helm. The floor creaked with each step. The chains and beads hanging around his neck and hair accompanied him in a chorus. Not another word needed to be shared.

He stood there, looking down at what was occurring beneath him. Fingers clad in silver and gold rings tapping away at the handles of the ship’s wheel. When you looked a few inches higher, you recognised that his eyes were directly on you. There was no hiding or denying it. He was staring deep into your eyes. The corner of his mouth tilted up in the slightest smirk. The position in which the two of you stood made you feel like you were some kind of act for him. An entertainment piece for him to enjoy in his own time despite you being surrounded by all his men. It felt perverse. Disgusting. You quickly turned away. 

But the image of those dark brown eyes stuck with you. Days later, and it still haunted you, the day you met Captain Eddie Munson.

The name was not much by itself. The stories that followed it brought fear onto people’s faces. For years now, you had overheard the people back home speaking tales of the notorious ocean bandit. The man who had sailed the seas with sails as dark as his eyes and soul.

You had never expected much from a man with a name like that, but you were quickly proven wrong. 

The respect he had gained over the crew was evident; you could see it just by how everyone had paved the way for their captain and his strides of confidence as he made his way down onto the deck. There was an energy that came from within him, this dangerous confidence. Maybe because of this, you felt like ignoring his eye contact would be a shot worth taking, something to crack that filthy grin on his face as he neared you. The crew had widened their circle to make space for their captain and you, but you took a step back at each he brought forward. Your attempt was quickly stopped by whoever pushed you again right into his chest. The captain grinned at the collision, almost politely, apologetically, but it made you sick to the stomach. 

He looked up from you to look at his men. 'Is anyone going to answer me?' his voice carried, making you flinch from your proximity to it, just like the canons. It was too loud. Your ears had almost stopped ringing from the explosions.

'Was hiding in the officer's quarters, she was.' Someone called out from behind Captain Munson, which must have interested him. To be a woman in the officer's quarters on a ship like yours… meant status. You could tell he looked at you intently but would not give him the satisfaction, and your eyes did not give him the time of day, instead focusing on the highest mast and the sail flickering softly in the wind. Not pitch black like the tales told, but a sunburned copper. Even despite this, you could feel his look on you. He was taking all of you in, grinning over his newest conquest. 

'And what was a pretty thing like her doing up there?' While his question was directed at everyone else but you, he dug his eyes deep into your soul. They were pulling you in, trance-like. A pair of irises darker than amber but just as warm and beautiful. A facade for a lie, as there was only cold and darkness beyond the warm hue, the cursed soul of a criminal. You had heard stories of men like him, but to find yourself in the midst of them, knowing it was more true than any other tale told at sea, to be held captive as if in an inescapable nightmare… 

Being oppressed into looking him in the eyes, you couldn't help but think how he, and his comrades, could have been perfectly fine young men in any other life. Maybe they even had been until the ocean took them, poisoned them with the cursed fruit of the sea. Corruption was so quickly and easily committed.

His hand, filthy, covered in tattoos and heavy rings, reached out for your cheek, which you quickly turned away from him as far as possible. You had hoped it would show him you weren't some fragile little girl, that you weren't just easy prey, but the laughter that erupted around you proved you wrong. He chuckled as his fingers found a new grip on your chin, turning your face back harshly, so you had no other option but to look him in the eye again.

‘Name, my darling,’ he smiled wickedly, squeezing your cheeks until you could feel the tips of his fingers against your teeth before letting your face go, ‘come, speak up, or that tongue will have to find a new use for itself.’ His words came out like a hiss of a snake.

'I am not your darling,' you spat once he had released you, to little effect as more laughter kindled from the men around you. You wondered how much time you would have from the shock value if you went on a rampage and started to kick all of them in their most sensitive parts. How many would you be able to get through before one of the others would grab you, possibly throw you overboard? 

The Captain kept on smiling. 'I must call you something if you do not care to share your name with us, my darling.' His erring grin burned your skin like a hot kettle fresh off the fire. 

'Carver called her something, Captain,' someone had shouted out, and Munson’s reaction was immediate when they repeated your name. His eyes widened, his grin spiked at the corners, showing his teeth, and his brown eyes glistened with enthusiasm. Then, jaggedly, as if remembering something suddenly, he moved his head around, looking around.

'Carver? Our dear friend Carver?' He looked around for whoever it had been that had spoken up a second ago, 'where is that pesky little–'

'Stabbed,' the crewmate responded, 'bled out on the ship,' a chorus of cackling surfaced among the men, but the captain looked a bit disappointed, hiding his amusement. Meanwhile, the mention of what you witnessed moments before stung you deep within.

'Shame. I would have liked to have seen that,' he said, with astonishing indifference covering his face, then he turned to you again, 'so, you were Carver's little toy, huh? I assure you, dear, you'll have much more fun here than with that stale little bilge rat.'

'I am nobody's toy.' You held back on shoving the man away or trying to act out of self-defence against any of his movements, knowing that upsetting him would not end in any better scenario than you were in at that given moment. 

'No, no,' he chuckled, pouting his lips in a manner of mocked sympathy, ‘A princess like you takes what she wants, don't you? We're similar in that way, I feel like— Where did you find her, Henderson, the officer's quarters, was it?' Perhaps the rest of his crew had been too slow to catch onto their captain's thoughts, but you could tell by the glint in his eye that he knew exactly who you were. 

'If you know who I am,' you tried your luck, pushing your voice out as steady and loud as possible to convict some confidence, 'then you must release me at once!' you tried to fight the situation. Still, there was very little you could do to gain a reaction out of this crowd that had not originated in humour. Some men asked around, still trying to catch up on what was happening. 

‘Now, why would I do that?’ The captain spoke directly to you, leaning in closer. So close you could smell the rum wafting off him. But he quickly leaned back to address his crew once more, answering all the inquiries in the crowd. 'This here, gents, is no one less than the Governor's daughter!'

It may have been silly of you to think that if they knew your status and position, they would find some newly gained respect for you. You would even find some small ounce of respect toward them as long as they would release you back to safety. But where would that even be… with your trusty ship now slowly greeting the bottom of the sea.

On the contrary, they had lost any image of you. From that moment on, you had become their most-priced possession. No plea would do good for it. It did not matter that mere minutes ago, you had seen them all make their way back, faces happy and arms full of treasures belonging to your family. What good were these riches when the real treasure stood tall in their centre? You were the one thing that would bring in the motherload they had been searching for for so long.  

The captain looked back at you. 'Do not worry; we shall release you straight back into your father's arms– for a reasonable price, that is,' he looked around at his men, who all once again erupted in a jolly sea of laughter, matching his much softer depiction of humour. 'But for now….' He dramatically removed his hat as his unbrushed locks grazed the floor at his bow. When he rose back up, his grin had spread to the widest corners of his mouth, and his dark eyes were filled with menacing mischief, freezing your core at the thought of what he could possibly be holding back in his mind. 'Welcome aboard the Hellfire.' 

The Hellfire. A crew that rampaged and torched anything that came in their way. Ships, harbours, cities, entire islands even… nothing stood a chance against the devils of the ocean… Devils, that’s what they were. Some truly believed they had all been cursed by something dark. Their lives had been given up to work for Satan as his harbingers of death and chaos. 

But you would only see a little of the ship or experience much more time with these men, as, not long after your introduction, you were dragged down below deck and locked behind the thick steel bars. The captain kept his eyes locked on you until you disappeared into the trapdoor. His smile never faded. And so, it was a dreadful sight to see that days– perhaps even months– later, the smile still persisted. 

How long precisely this nightmare had lasted, you were unsure. Or maybe you knew exactly. Would it have been better to lose count of the days and nights you had spent in this hell and think you might have lost your mind? Or to remember everything exactly how it had been, knowing what was and what would follow? For now, you were somewhere in between and unsure of what direction to go. A grey limbo where your body and mind were fighting themselves. Whether to give up or keep on battling your enemies. To forget would be to ease the pain, but it would also feel like losing the battle. Something you were not ready to do just yet. Though the memories still haunted your dreams. Was any of it worth it? That was the question that kept you up. 

And it was answered, more or less, when the trapdoor opened. Just as you were about to take your last bite of the apple. 

‘Will it be the rope then?’ you shouted as the footsteps came down to your level. Suddenly the apple felt much juicier, sweeter, and better than anything you had tasted in weeks. The odds would be in your favour, and you would get your way… even if it meant a measly ten minutes out in the cold sea air. 

‘Be my guest, princess.’ The voice immediately made your stomach drop. The sweet taste of the fruit turned bitter, the bread even drier. You looked up in horror as Captain Munson appeared out of the shadows. He leaned against the thick bars that imprisoned you. Then, when no response came from you after a long moment, he asked, ‘what? Not so brave anymore, are we?’ The chuckle that followed was deep but genuine. He was enjoying everything about your fear and you; you could not let that stand. 

With shaky legs, you got up and took the two steps to your barricade. Facing the captain should have been terrifying, but you were using your stubbornness to push any fears aside for the time being. As confidently as possible, you clenched your fists around two of the bars, gritted your teeth, and demanded: ‘Let me out.’

‘Have your parents never taught you manners, my darling?’ He did not seem to be phased by your attitude. 

‘You dare speak of manners to me?’ You could not keep yourself composed. Heat was rising to your cheeks with anger. ‘You? The man that has kept me locked in a cage for days?’ Who knew where this confidence came from in front of the notorious pirate captain? If anyone had seen you act out like this as opposed to such a dangerous criminal as he was, they would assume you had a death wish, yet this was your attempt at survival.

He reached his hand out to brush it over your cheek, and unable to react quickly; you let him. It was as if his touch had a numbing power over you, freezing you in place. His skin was hot, assumably from staying out on the deck during the day, steering the ship whichever way you were going. But then his rings, a sobering cold. His voice was as smooth as the rum he burned it with. ‘Do you blame me for wanting to keep my treasure save?’ 

‘You are despicable.’ You hissed out, and suddenly his gentle touch roughened up. His fingers wound their way through your hair, and with a firm tug, he pulled you forward, nearly smashing your face against the bars. His voice was distorted with a growl as he warned you. 

‘You don’t even know the half of it, darling,’ you were so close to each other, only separated by the metal rods, you could feel his breath on you. There was that distinct smell of rum followed by… cinnamon. There was no way you could focus on that, however. Not when he pulled at your hair harder. ´If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have that pretty dress, no more. Let alone even have food to disgust over. Besides–’  He let go of your hair, pushing you back and you let go of the breath you had been holding in. ‘This attitude really does not suit you.’ 

As you let your lungs fill with a fresh breath, you watched the captain inhale slowly. He was composing himself. And when he looked back up at you, from a first glance, it looked as if he had pushed aside the part of him that had just grabbed you. All except for his eyes. They were still dark and filled with the devil’s fury.

‘So,’ he spoke calmly, ‘is there a reason why you threatened your life to my incompetent men for the– what is it– fifth time?’ You had a request, did you?’ Was he really giving you a chance? Trying to mimic his calm stature, you repeated your demand. 

‘Let me out.’ 

To this, he raised an eyebrow. Did you not learn anything from the interactions that just occurred between you?  Why, yes, you did, so you added one last determined word: ‘Now.’ 

Against all expectations, he laughed and reached for a set of keys that hung on the wall next to your jail. It must have been a well-thought-out joke because it had always been just out of your arm’s reach, no matter how you angled or stretched yourself out. Because you naturally had tried to reach for it across your first nights of capture when most of the crew was asleep– you didn’t want to be caught trying to escape. 

The captain took the key, it rattled on its large ring, and turned it in the lock. With a rusty croak, the barred door opened. He extended his arm invitingly, but you stood frozen in place. What was happening? 

‘Isn’t this what you wanted?’ He looked up at you, one arm hooked between the bar, the other nudging you to move with a wave. ‘Well, go on then. Be free.’ He knew exactly what he was doing, and you realised it at the sound of his last word. 

Despite your cage finally being open, unlike a bird, you could not fly away and truly escape this ghost of a ship. You had nowhere to go. For days, you had thought it would be alright if only you could get out of this jail. Reality hit much harder. It was much worse. Out in the middle of the vast sea, there was nowhere for you to go. The ship was your true prison. 

You remained in your spot, frozen. Finally, the captain nodded satisfactorily and removed the key from the lock but kept the door open.

‘I’ll be on my way now if you do not mind, darling’ He chuckled again. It had quickly become one of your most hated sounds in the world, ‘but do join us on deck if you ever feel like putting on another performance such as this. I would suggest something of the likes of Shakespeare, though– much less hysterics.’  

You wanted to scream at him, run up to him and hit him with every ounce of power in your body, but you couldn’t. He could easily overpower you, and God only knew what would happen. Keeping a distance was better. It was safe.

 From that point on, the jail door stayed open. With it, another realisation came to light.

That steel barred door, now swinging and creaky as the ship crossed the waters, had been the one thing that kept you safe. It had been a barrier between you and the wild men of the ship. 

Now, for whatever reason, they kept to themselves. Depending on who had drawn the short stick to bring you a meal, you only came into contact with one or two crewmates a day. There was no eye contact and no more conversation attempts. You had become like an animal they just tried to keep alive until you reached your destination or until boredom hit… and you weren’t sure if it was for the better or worse. 

Chapter 2

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[tobylix-blog]

First time at sea - Boromir x Reader

Content&Warnings: everyone-lives AU, platonic, mention of death

Word count: 2.6k

Summary: Boromir is a man of land through and through. But fate and state matters get him on board of an Umbar ship - a whole whirlwind of different life and customs.

A/N: this was equally a torment for me and the text, two whole months of struggling with getting this right. the degree of success is up to you to determine

Ramp creaked unpleasantly under Boromir's feet, adding more tension to an already nerve-wracking moment. He had never stepped upon a ship's deck before, and was determined to not trust the wooden vessel with his life. To the point of refusing the opportunity of boarding with the others in Osgiliath and riding on horseback all the way to Pelargir. He would gladly dismiss the prospect of the voyage altogether if travelling to the City of Corsairs by land didn't take a solid month longer than sailing. However, Aragorn promised the team to be the best, and Boromir reluctantly agreed.

The captain, indeed, was a pleasant person, clearly knowledgeable of their job and hospitable to passengers. From their explanation Boromir learned that the crew mostly consisted of sailors that served on the trading ships rather than pirate ones. The news gave the man some much needed reassurance before the long journey. Even though the line between the merchants and pirates was quite vague in Umbar.

A day later the ship left the river mouth and took off into the sea. It didn't go too far from shore. The dark line of land was visible in the distance most of the time, but the constant rise and fall of the waves was no less unsettling than in the first moment. Sons of Gondor felt way out of their place without steady ground beneath. And Boromir even more than others. He leaned against the bulwarks and sighed heavily, hoping that he didn't look as green as he felt.

A cheerful voice called out to him, "First time on board? It'll get better."

He looked to the side, noticing a sailor tightening ropes and knots. You glanced back at him, fixing the last one in place. "It always gets."

"Does not seem this way to me. I have spent the whole day here and nothing changed," Boromir retorted, knitting his brows.

You smiled. "Don't rush it. The ship is like a timid town lady. She takes time getting close with a man."

Boromir shook his head and glanced over the dancing whitecaps. The sight of the ever moving water caused another spasm in his stomach.

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Even sleep betrayed Boromir once he left solid land. The morning was young and chilly, when he sneaked out of the cabin, careful not to wake any of his companions. The endless blue of the sea mirrored the depths of the sky. Right between them was the ship's prow that you walked down ensuring tightness of all ropes. From the centre of the deck you seemed to be walking a narrow bridge between the horizon and the boards with ease of a practised acrobat. Boromir involuntarily froze in place, half hidden from your view by the mast and multiple barrels placed on deck. His eyes glued to your light steps against the boards and fingers curling around each length and knot. There was something very personal in watching you do some mundane tasks when you thought to be alone, save for the helmsman, who couldn't be less interested in whatever happened on board.

Bare feet against the ever wet wood – what a strange habit – and yet you still managed to move quietly. Or maybe the ever-mumbling sea silenced your steps enough for Boromir to not catch a sound. He stepped to the side to get a better view, unobscured by the spars. The world shifted slightly – and then turned with a loud thud. Dull pain of the collision with the hard deck in his side made the man curse under breath.

You turned at the sound and watched him retreat back to the cabin. An expression of dissatisfaction with the means of travel was clearly showing on his face.

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

"Sailing is a strange job," Boromir stated firmly.

After three nights on board without a single incident in the calm waters of the bay of Belfalas he seemed more confident. The broad daylight showed more colour in his face and less insecurity in his eyes. And his steps appeared steady.

"Is it though?" you threw a questioning look back at him.

The man crossed arms on his chest. "I understand swimming and fishing in the boat, but staying away from the shore for weeks and months is against human nature."

"There is truth in your words, but think of it this way - replace 'shore' with 'house' and you will get the description of being a soldier. You don't find that strange, do you?" you chuckled. "The main difference is that we fight sea rather than other people and use ships instead of swords."

Unconvinced Boromir only shrugged in response.

“Your people even call you their captain,” you smiled, looking at his pressed lips, “is that not a happy enough coincidence?”

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

Sharing their pints of beer, sailors hustled and bustled in the eternal evening dusk of the lower deck. Rumbling laughter thundered through the still air along with clattering of dishes and creaking of wood. They made bets over weather and luck with beer and meat as well as with coins – mostly copper jingling in empty pockets. And someone started singing, a heavy accent draping from the melody known since times before they had learned walking.

Cutting through the moving crowd, like he often did in barracks or taverns full of celebrating soldiers, Boromir made way to the bench where you just shook hands with another crew-mate betting on a good catch. You stood up greeting him and motioned to the corner, where bales were piled up in the shadow.

“It’s much better than being packed like sardines.”

Dropping down on the soft sacks without spilling a droplet from the full glass, you caused Boromir to raise an eyebrow in amusement before sitting down beside. He glanced over to the crew and then back to you. “This does resemble how the army can be at times.”

You contentedly nodded and took a generous sip, allowing him to continue. He took the hint, but hesitated to elaborate on whatever thought brought him to the lower deck, boiling with life in the dim light of oil lamps and candles, after a solid week of travelling in comfort of the cabin.

“I found myself in need of an apology,” he said at last, clasping hands together.

“Did I somehow offend you, my lord?” you sat up concerned.

A burst of laughter, low and deep at the same time, was his first response. “No, not in the slightest. I mean quite the opposite. Since the first day of this voyage I have expressed a great deal of unsavoury opinions. For that I seek your forgiveness.”

You waved off his words. “I don’t hold a grudge against one’s lack of experience.”

“And still,” Boromir insisted, “you were gracious enough to bear continuous insults. Not a single time have you turned away or raised your voice to silence the irritating noise. Your actions speak of your character differently from your words.”

“That’s the art of trade in the way I’ve learned it – be soft with people and hard with actions. In that manner one climbs up the ladder of success,” you shrugged.

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

A day before arrival, when the ship entered the narrowing pass to Umbar, the movement became very cautious and unhurried. Even the wind and waves seemed to find delight in leisurely licking the wooden side of the vessel.

"Why did we slow down?" Boromir asked the captain.

"The gulf is tricky to navigate. We must go on short sails to get past all the rocks and cliffs," they replied, leaning on the helm.

Gondorian nodded and looked up front. Steep banks were rising before his eyes. At that moment two of the crewmen rushed by his side. He turned too late to express his indignation at the accidental push, but just in time to watch your white shirt pass by like a cloud of smoke in the wind. You didn't even bother to take the steps down to the deck, simply jumping over the small staircase in one leap. Like another fish joins the shoal, you pushed through the crowd and disappeared among fellows.

"What are they doing?" Boromir furrowed his brows, pointing at the gathered crew.

"Ah, choosing the fortune diver. Seems like they've spotted something nice this time. Folks are so eager, they’re down to three already," they explained with a nonchalant yawn. Though by the time the sentence was finished, the choosing was already over. The crowd parted, demonstrating your triumphant smile and two unlucky souls that lost their chance in the final draw. "Y/N, again? Cheating, aren't you?"

"Nah, the tides just like to blow my way," you responded, throwing off the outer shirt and rolling up the wide pants slightly.

Some indescribable trepidation washed over Boromir as you did so. He didn't know for sure if there even was something to worry about, but his gut was all but against it. There was no time to find out, though, and neither was there time to object. You took a few steps of run up and leaped right overboard in a swift arc. The crew blew up in a round of laughter and clapping as the fountain of splashes rose into the air.

As if woken up by that sound, Boromir tore his seemingly glued feet from the deck. He hurried to the bulwarks and bent over the board, watching your flexible form descend to the shadowed depth of the gulf as if it was the most natural of ways to move. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the curve of your body as you reached the bottom and swam to your goal. Each stroke was strong and precise – clear evidence of years spent at sea.

His gentle heart, that only seemed to have been encased in strong armour, skipped a beat when you let out a few air bubbles, trying to pull the gilded candelabrum from the grey sand. The precious trinket was positively stuck and very unwilling to budge. It took  you a few more tugs along with an eloquently layered silent curse before the metal slid out of the sand trap. That last pull kicked the rest of the air out of your lungs. Heavy coldness began to spread from the centre of your chest. You pushed from the bottom and began rapidly rising. Racing against the last air bubbles, you were losing tragically. The heavy candelabrum was weighing down one hand, slowing down your painfully long rise. You felt that everything was getting slower, darker...

The surface shattered into a million glowing splashes, reflecting sunlight and dark boards of the ship, as you broke through to the air. The first moment over the water was deafening and blinding. The dull monotonous rustling of the waves was replaced with an eruption of shouts and laughter. The first deep inhale nearly pushed you back down. You rubbed salty water away from your eyes until you could see a rope dropped from the deck right in front of you. By some miracle, it was just an arm length away. You only got up by a couple of feet before feeling the rope being pulled up, lifting you easily. In a few moments you were already grabbed by an unfamiliar pair of arms.

The candelabrum slipped out of your hands and landed on the boards with a loud metallic rattle, nearly hitting someone’s feet. Your fingers curled in the thick fabric of someone’s shirt. Pressing your forehead to soft fabric, you were catching your breath one gulp of air at a time. The warmth of the hands against your freezing back was revitalising. Hitched breaths, almost as faltering as your own, came in soft gusts over your shoulder. Despite the tight embrace getting most of your attention, you slowly began to recognize the colour of those locks, tickling your cheek, the wide belt made of expensive leather and the boots he refused to take off on board. You couldn't see that yet, but your mind easily painted the image of his eyebrows drawn together.

Boromir’s heavy sigh gusted against your wet hair. He probably said something. You lifted your head and noticed a massive wet stain on his shirt. Some crew-mate’s words suddenly came to your mind about that shirt, which “probably costs like our yearly payment”. A panicked thought rushed through your mind. You pushed away, nearly tripping over the damned candelabrum.

“-sorry, deepest apologies. I didn’t mean to get it wet,” you breathed out hastily, adding a weak chuckle, before a human wave of crewmen washed you from the deck to below the boards.

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

Considering your dive a sign of bravery and fortune, fellow sailors left you with no work to be done upon arrival to Umbar. It seemed nearly alien to sit idly on a barrel with the gilded trophy in your lap, while they were busy carrying the cargo ashore. So much life happening around and you were out there like a ghost. Invisible and long forgotten.

“Why would you risk your life for that trinket?” the wind asked.

You shuddered and turned around. Boromir stood just a few feet away. On solid ground he seemed taller. With his hand on the hilt of the sword, he would look threatening, if it wasn’t for his gaze. There was genuine confusion and concern. Almost as if he was looking at a child, who regularly acts against all advice and gets hurt.

You clutched the ‘trinket’. “It’s how one gets their fortune – through daring and courageous acts.”

“Or loses everything,” he stepped in. “You could have died! Taking such chances... It is not worth a handful of coins. If silver or gold is what you wish for, you could have begun selling fish in the market, saving up for a better life-”

“No!” you jumped off the barrel, momentarily getting nearly face-to-face with him. “I- Not a single soul has built their fortune, putting away a bronze at a time. It is known no merchant gets off well if their first pouch isn’t full. That is how life is. That is why the tradition exists.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “Until...the catch is good enough, our lives are worth so little, my lord. We gamble less than you do in a single game of cards.”

Boromir opened his mouth to say something, but not a sound rang. His eyes filled up with painful understanding and fear. For a moment you dreaded to see the pity in them, but instead there was pure terror of recognition. His entire spirit was shattered by this simple thought that you lived with for years. His hand rose to grip your shoulder. The touch was feather-light.

Someone called out for Boromir. He looked back for a moment before returning to you. His grip tightened just a bit.

“Come with me. Find me here tonight. And, I promise, you will never have to put your life on the line for coin. It can be so different from now on.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Nothing scandalous, I assure you,” he turned again, hearing another question coming his way from afar. “Just be my guest. There in Gondor your life could be started anew.”

His hand finally left your shoulder and he quickly regained his posture, stepping away. Once again he looked as a noble lord of the great kingdom. But his eyes still betrayed the fear of a young boy, who couldn’t bear to see you willingly putting your life at stake. He bowed his head, and in a moment – was gone.

[kingofthe-egirls]

(love): LUFFY x READER (oc, she/her)

(cw: angst, some comfort, kitsune)

(a/n: i needed this angst, all lower case)

words: 1k

****

slowly, you untangle yourself from luffy’s arms. he’s been hanging on you all day, insisting you pay attention to him at every given opportunity. he’d stolen bites off your plate, draped over your papers when you were sketching, and now he’s got his arms wrapped around you in loops as he sleeps.

quietly, you slip out of your shared cabin and into the night air.

no one’s out, thank god.

you need some alone time, and stat.

so you gaze up at the stars, breathing in the cold quiet. it’s a tad cloudy, but some points of light still break through. it’s your favorite time of day: two a.m. it’s the only time you feel truly free.

no one else around, no eyes on you, just the darkness and the silence and no one needing anything from you. you take another deep breath, relishing the quiet waves and gentle wind. it ruffles your hair, left in two loose braids over each breast. your hair is ashen, silky now after nami showed you how to brush it. she and robin had shown you how to soap up your face and leave “moisturizer” on it once it’s clean. you don’t love the sticky tubes of cream they keep in their beauty supplies, but you do love spending time with them. plus, it’s nice to smell nice. and luffy likes it, too.

so you learn how to brush and wash your tails (all nine of them) and how to wash behind your ears.

a bath would be nice, right around now.

you decide to take a quick shower, longing for the crisp, cool water on your overheated skin.

you walk across deck to the ladies’ spa room, and slowly undress for your shower.

****

“baby?” luffy mumbles sleepily as he falls in and out of dreams. she’s not here, still wrapped in his arms as he’d like her to be. she’s not even in the bed, he realizes as he paws around the covers.

luffy pouts, and gets out of bed.

he pads across the empty deck, searching for his slippery girlfriend. she’s always slithering out of things, it seems. no matter how tightly he holds her. she’s a survivor, he thinks, she’s good at running away.

but she’s good at coming back, too.

so luffy slinks along, sleepily making his way to the spa rooms. there’s a light on and he can hear water running. she likes showering before bed sometimes, since it exhausts her as a devil fruit user, and leaves her all sleepy and clean. so luffy slowly pushes open the heavy wooden door, to see her back turned to him as she washes her face. her hair is clipped up in two braids, piled at the top of her head so it doesn’t get wet.

smart, he thinks.

she turns, letting the water soak through her tails to leave them thin and wiry. she looks like a stray cat, sometimes. she’s got her eyes closed; her movements are gentle as she scrubs soap into her legs.

luffy watches her rinse the suds off her shining skin, until she’s all fresh and clean and turning the water off behind her. she sighs, leaning her forehead against the tile wall.

“finally,” she whispers, “some alone time.”

so luffy leaves her alone.

****

she comes back to bed eventually, sliding in next to him while he pretends to be asleep.

“sweet dreams,” she whispers, softly rearranging pillows and sheets so she’s comfortable. she tucks her chin into his shoulder, inhaling deeply through her nose. she’s always sniffing him; she says she really likes his scent. luffy likes that.

she snuggles up into him, wrapping both her arms around one of his. he lets her, staying as still as he can as she starts to fall asleep.

she flicks two tails up, suddenly.

she sits, restless, and pushes out of bed once more. this time, luffy sits up with her. “what’s wrong?” he whispers through the dark as she creeps across the floor. she’s already got one hand on the doorknob.

“sorry,” she says, eyes reflecting the cabin’s moonlight like a cat’s, “can’t sleep.” so she slips out again, leaving luffy alone.

luffy doesn’t like alone.

so he stands up after her and follows her out the door.

****

“whatcha doin’?” he asks her, sneaking up behind her as she stares at the stars. she’s leaning against the ship’s railing, head tilted back toward the sky.

“shit!” she gasps, spinning around with a portal half-formed. she sees it’s him, and snaps the shimmering, turquoise oval closed with a sigh.

“sorry,” he says, scratching his head. she smiles, and reaches forward to kiss his cheek. he turns his head at the last second so she gets his lips, instead. he giggles, which makes her smile and scritch his hair behind his ears. she presses her nose to his cheek, and inhales.

“s’okay,” she says, and draws away to stare at the sky again. so luffy leans against the railing next to her, and stares along with her. they stay like that for a while, stargazing in silence. the air is cold, but not uncomfortable. it feels nice after sleeping in his stuffy room.

she bumps his shoulder.

“hey,” she whispers, “is there…something i can say? for alone time?” she thunks her bare heel against the railing behind her. she’s in pajama shorts and a crop top, with her limbs laid loose and bare beneath them. she has a fine layer of ashy fuzz along her forearms, with matching hairs along her legs. she has ash-grey hair around her pussy, too, but luffy kinda really likes that.

he strokes a finger along her forearm; goosebumps raise up beneath the hair. “m’not sure,” he admits, “guess just ‘’lone time’ works for me,” he trails his hand down to intertwine with hers, and she gives him a squeeze. “didja need ‘lone time now?” he desperately hopes she doesn’t, that she’ll say no and crawl back into bed with him, so he can wrap himself around her (love) and fall asleep in the comfort of her warmth (love), but she nods, instead. his heart falls, and she can tell, because she’s kissing his bare shoulder as if she’s apologizing.

“sorry,” she says again, but luffy shakes his head.

“s’alright!” he says, throat scratchy, “jus’ come back to me when you’re done.”

she nods, and he smiles, and he pretends that each step away from her body (love) isn’t sending needles through his ribcage.

(lonely).

****

[sheeple]

Miracles don't exist | 9: Something fishy

Genre(s): Riddle!reader / Slytherin!reader / kinda slowburn / little happy moments Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Theodore Nott x Reader / Harry Potter x Riddle!reader Summary: Being the Dark Lord's daughter and raised under the strict supervision of the Malfoy's is no easy life. Especially if you start crushing on your father's arch-nemesis, Harry Potter. And that while being engaged to one of his follower’s sons. Warning(s): None this chapter A/n: Did I use dialogue of Catching fire. Maybe. But that scene is so damn cute and I love it how Peeta looks at Katniss. Ugh [Masterlist] [Mini masterlist] [Playlist]

The days grow slowly less cold but wetter when the second task approaches in February. It's been weirdly quiet. No letters from your aunt or uncle and no letters from your father. You're very relieved that he hasn't written to you in such a long time. That means he is too weak, he's too occupied with something evil and nefarious, or he's dead. You highly doubt the last option.

You walk with your cousin and his friends to the dock so you can take a boat to one of the three platforms. You see Harry walk not much further from you next to Neville and you speed up, catching up.

"Hey", you say, making both boys turn towards you, "Good luck with your task. Please be safe, yeah?"

Harry nods shakingly, obviously anxious about what's to come. You reach out for his hand and give it a squeeze. "You can do this. I believe in you." You give him a small smile, hoping it gives him some sort of comfort.

"Where are Hermione and Ron, by the way?" You look around but don't spot the redhead and the brunette that's usually not far away.

"I don't know", he mumbles. "They've been gone since yesterday. McGonagall asked to talk to them and since then they haven't returned."

You frown. It's not like them to just disappear. "I'm sure it's nothing. Maybe they are a part of the task?"

Harry looks solemn towards the water. "I rather hope not."

Arriving at the boats, a hand on your waist steadies you as you step into the wooden boat. You look up and see Theodore glaring at Harry, who looks too anxious and concerned with the second task that is minutes away from happening to even bother.

The other Slytherins fill the remaining seats in the boat and you wave goodbye to Harry.

Nobody says anything but you feel the glares from around you. "What?", you snap.

"Seriously, Potter?", sneers Draco, his bottom lip curled up. "You know what I have said about fraternizing with the enemy."

You sigh, massaging your temples. "For Merlin's sake, Draco! The boy is terrified! Who knows what he is going to encounter down there. If it were you, you would already be screaming and crying to your father to put an end to the tournament."

Draco's jaw ticks but it seems to shut him up effectively. 

The boats stop at the raised platforms and you immediately get out, not accepting the outstretched hand of Theodore. Seeing your opportunity to get away, you climb the first set of iron steps to get to the top deck. There you have a nice overview of the water and the surrounding landscape.

Your head rests on your hand as you lean against the railing, waiting for the contestants to get ready to dive in the water when Theodore slides into the empty space next to you. "I've been thinking─"

"Congrats on using your brain, Theo. You didn't strain it?"

Theodore stops and looks at you with raised eyebrows. Quite perplexed.

You bite your bottom lip. You've grown too comfortable too quick at the idea of Theodore being your friend and you've overstepped boundaries. "Sorry. I've never been really good at being friends."

He smiles, obviously enjoying your little quip. "For starters, it helps when you know the person. I hardly know anything about you except that you love muggle books and that you have the most amazing smile, even though you rarely show the real thing."

The comment about your smile makes your cheeks heat up but you decided to push it down. "That about sums me up."

"There is more than that, you just don't want to tell me."

"It's like I said─"

At that moment Professor Dumbledore starts his speech to explain what the second task contains and with the sound of a cannon firing, the contestants jump into the water. Harry follows after them a couple of beats later.

Theodore leans close to you and says, "Listen, Black, how the whole friend thing works is that you have to tell each other the deep stuff."

"The deep stuff?", you whisper back, your eyes focused on the murky water.

"Like...", he glances up at the sky, "what is your favourite colour?"

Turning towards him, a smile adorning your face. "Now you've stepped over the line."

The both of you laugh. You slap a hand over your mouth and hit Theodore in an attempt to quiet him down before it attacks the attention of the people around you. 

Still smiling, Theodore props his head on his fist and says, "seriously though, what is it?"

You think for a moment. What is your favourite colour? Most of the clothing that you own is black and dark green, but that's more to blend in with the rest of your family and the Slytherin students. Your room back home is also mostly black. The only colour you can think of is-

"Pink", you decide.

It makes Theo's eyebrows raise in surprise. "Pink?" He looks perplexed. He for sure expected you to say some variating of green or something.

"Pink", you confirm. "But not old pink. More like… a tulip pink."

Theodore hums, a large smile forming on his face. "Tulip pink?"

He bursts out laughing and you push his shoulder smiling. "It's a nice colour! What is yours anyways?"

He doesn't hesitate for a moment. "Green."

"And you're critiquing my colour of choice?"

Theodore bumps against you with his shoulder. "Shut up. The Whomping Willow leaves colour nicely in spring."

One corner of your mouth twitches up and you snicker. "Whomping Willow leaves?"

The comment earns you a look from the brown-haired boy.

The first to get up to the surface is Fleur ─ who didn't finish her task ─ next is Krum, followed by Cedic. At the last minute, Harry shoots up out of the lake and lands on the platform. The crowd goes wild and you jump up and down, happy that Harry is safe and well.

The task ends with Victor getting the most points and Fleur the least, but the winners are Harry and Cedic.

There is this restlessness in your body, going down all the way to your core. You've been tossing and turning for hours and flipped your pillow over too many times. With a huff, you sit up and decide that you are not going to do this any longer.

You swing your legs off your bed and scramble ─ as quietly as you can as not to disturb the peace of your sleeping roommates ─ for your sneakers and make your way out of the Slytherin common room.

It's quiet when you roam the halls. Of course, it is, it's after curfew after all.

Something in you tells you that something is coming. It festers deep within your soul, twirling and whizzing around. It makes you anxious.

Hearing steps coming from the hallway adjacent to yours, you swiftly hide in an alcove. You suck in your breath in the hope to appear as a shadow. You release it once you see it's Harry that's passing by.

"Harry!", you whisper, making the boy turn his head. His stance relaxes as soon as he sees it's you, and he slides his wand back into his pocket.

"What are you doing out of bed?", he whispers back in the same tone as you walk next to him.

You shrug. "I couldn't sleep. Again. You?"

Harry looks at the ground, searching for the right words. You grab his wrist as a sign he can tell you.

"Barty Crouch is killed. I found him in the forest while walking with Hagrid, Ron, and Hermione. Turns out, Crouch's son was a Death Eater and responsible for torturing Neville's parents."

You hold a hand over your mouth in shock. "Oh, poor Neville. Does he know?"

"No. At least - I don't think so."

You frown. It was never a question of why you felt remorse for the boy. It was your mother after all that tortured the Longbottoms to the point that they are now. And, in your opinion, it's far crueller to leave a boy behind with parents that don't remember him than to leave behind an orphan.

As the two of you pass a hallway filled with portraits, arguing voices cut through the silence of the night before a door flies open and reveals Professor Snape and Professor Karkaroff ─ who has his sleeve pulled up and revealed his dark mark, which slowly grows more intense.

"It's a sign, Severus. You know what it means as well as I."

Karkaroff snaps his head towards the two of you and angrily storms off, sneering.

Giving each other a wide-eyed look, the both of you decide it's for the best to just continue walking. But Snape has other ideas.

"Potter! Black! What is your hurry?"

You sigh and turn around, not daring to look at Snape's harsh glare.

But the Professor's attention is focused on the boy next to you. "Congratulations. Your performance in the Black Lake was inspiring. Gillyweed, am I correct?"

"Yes sir."

"Ingenious. Run along, Black, you mustn't be caught roaming the halls after curfew."

You nod, giving Harry a sorry look before you get house points deducted for whatever Snape is irritated with.

As you round the corner, you know what you have to do. There is no denying that something is going to happen, with the Dark Mark on Karkaroff's arm and the uneasy feeling in your bones. You have to go to Dumbledore. To at least report to him, as you promised.

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