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stu-dyingstudent · 6 months ago

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Sakura Haruno fic recs: romance-centric

I, like many others, definitely enjoy a a good romance every so often. All of these recs are going to have the romantic development of the characters as the forefront of the story, so just because the fic includes a ship doesn't mean it will go on the list. That means, many of them might feel more on the slice of life side of the spectrum, but that's not the case for all!!

There is going to be a mix of ships here so if you're interested in one in specific then use the search feature!

Started: 2024.08.28

Last Updated: 2024.12.19

note: feel free to check out my master list which has a bunch of Sakura Haruno fic recs (all organized)!

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To Build a Home - RedPowder || ao3 || E || kakasaku || canon divergence || ongoing

Sakura and Kakashi are assigned a mission that will change the path of their lives forever.

Kakashi and Sakura are forced to marry on orders from the village and I know that description sounds dumb, but trust me when I say this fic is gold. I've always had a hard time with kakasaku fics because I feel the whole teacher/student thing gets swept under the rug too easily, but that's not the case here. Their past relationship from team 7 is a glaring shadow over their marriage and the guilt over the whole situation weighs heavy on Kakashi. This mission isn't easy for either of them and it takes a lot of pull and tug to ensure things don't completely blow up. To Build a Home is probably one of my favorite takes on this ship as the portrayal feels realistic and the character feel accurate to themselves. Just give it a go!

Approaching Sun - ANerdInAllHerGlory || ffn || T || sasusaku || blank period || ongoing

After 2 years, Sasuke returns to the village where friends anxiously await him. Still troubled by the mysteries of Kaguya and his personal guilt, Sasuke is split between friends and his journey. Troubled by rising casualties and international dependence on her abilities, Sakura is torn between her love for Sasuke and her duty to her village.

Approaching Sun is probably one of the most realistic depictions of Sasuke and Sakura's relationship that I have read. This takes place during the blank period and references the novels, so it feels like an actual possibility of what went down. As much as I love them, I have a hard time believing that their relationship was smooth sailing and so I think this is an interesting take.

The Fool - thekatthatbarks || ao3 || T || shikasaku || blank period || complete

Ino kicked at a pebble on the ground, her arms folded across her chest. “How long?” Shikamaru sighed and pulled the cigarette away from his lips. “The war." It was a lie somewhat. He’d liked her since they were kids but had simply ignored the budding crush expecting it to fade over time. It hadn’t and by the time the war came around, he accepted he would always carry it despite his increasing efforts to drop it. He’d tried drowning it in the river, burning it in a fire, covering it up with something else. But it was all to no avail. It stuck with him, always apart of him. “Have you ever told anyone? Chouji? Her?” "No."

I actually really like Shikamaru and Sakura as a pairing (or just working together in general); however, I haven't read much of them. The Fool was a great post-war read where with some meddling (curtesy of Ino) we get to watch the progression of their relationship into something more than friends.

Nightmare in Red - Sariasprincy || ao3 || M || itasaku || non-massacre AU || complete

Haruno Sakura used to think the eyes were the windows to the soul, but after witnessing the horrors of the Sharingan firsthand, she's convinced they are the doors. It was pure chance that led Sakura to the discovery of the disease eating through Uchiha Itachi's lungs and now that she's aware, she knows she cannot just turn a blind eye. But how is she to treat the very man who tortured her while at the same time keep her nightmares from consuming her? That she doesn't know, but she knows she has to try, even if it nearly kills her in the end.

Itachi unintentionally captures Sakura in his mangekyou after being rolled into the hospital for her to heal. While Sakura tries to work through the impacts of the genjutsu she continues to work with him in an effort to cure him of the disease infecting his body. I actually really liked how the whole thing played out. Itachi's sickness was sort of a mystery in the original series and so I found it rather interesting to see what was done in regards to it. Anyway, I love their interactions and Shisui is (like always) a great character as well.

Blind - ObsidianSickle || ffn || sasusaku || T || canon divergent || complete

It was almost time, Orochimaru was going to take his body as a vessel. He hated being used...he refused to be used. With that thought, he took the kunai in his hand and slashed across his eyes.

I won't lie, Sakura is pretty weak in Blind and the whole thing is super cheesy, but it's still an enjoyable read.

Ghosts - ElegiesforShiva || ffn || sausaku || M || blank period || incomplete

In love and loss, it often comes back to family, and Team 7 had always been fated, hadn't they? Deny it as she may, Sakura finds her heart strung to them with an uncanny reverence and the weight of their ghosts. Sakura-centric. Heavy, heavy angst. Slow burn Sasusaku. Canon pairings. Lots of friendship feels. Eventual (consensual) lemon.

Ghosts is a pretty dark read where basically everyone is suffering. Sasuke and Sakura in specific have an especially hard time coping with their individual struggles yet they find comfort in each other. Check TWs before going in

Home is Where the Heart is - DeepPoeticGirl || ffn || sasusaku || T || blank period || complete

And with every moment together, they get just a little closer, a little more comfortable with each other. Fall a little more in love. Post-war. Pre-epilogue.

This fic is actually adorable! Taking place during the black period we get to see how Sasuke and Sakura's relationship slowly progresses. If you've always wondered what their travels were like then definitely check this one out.

In Times of Peace - SouthSideStory || ffn || sasusaku || M || blank period || canon divergent || complete

The war is over, and like Konoha, Team 7 has rebuilt itself from the ground up. Everything has changed, but Sasuke and Sakura remain much the same. Eleven years, she thinks, is a long time to be in love.

Sakura and Sasuke have like a secret relationship going on. Also, Sakura as a jonin sensei is so good!! I really wish that someone from the original cast actually went down that route, but whatever.

Labyrinthine - FM_White || ao3 || itasaku || M || canon divergence || complete

ItaSaku (Post Uchiha Massacre) AU: Some things are destined to be. It just takes a couple of tries to get there.ItaSaku. Light KakaSaku.

I actually really liked how this was done as team 7 is still a family, Sasuke didn't lose his mind, Itachi picked a much more respectable path imo, and the characters are all adults.

Only a Crush by Gingersoup || ao3 || kakasaku || M || canon divergent || complete

It was supposed to be an easy, fun night out. She never intended to wake up in her sensei's bed, half-naked and with no memory of what happened the night before! As she tries to unravel the mystery of that night, something sinister is growing beyond the walls of the Leaf Village... and what was only a crush spirals wildly out of control.

Sakura is unwillingly thrust into the world of illegal drugs, trafficking, and sex all while coming to terms with her new feelings regarding her former sensei. I typically don't like kakasaku, but I think this work is done tastefully well. The characters are both adults and the immorality of the relationship is not ignored, so be prepared for a lot of "we can't," "this is wrong," etc.. Anyway, Sakura is an absolute powerhouse and I thoroughly enjoyed the relationship between all of the different characters and villages!

Dreaming's End - thepiedsniper || ao3 || T || kakasaku || canon divergence || complete

Sakura didn't avoid the Infinite Tsukuyomi with the others, and all the events that happened afterward were simply the product of her dream-state. When Sakura finally wakes up from years spent in her personal "paradise," she must to learn how to start again. Kakashi is there to help her. ~*~ (TWs for genjutsu-related unreality)

Basically, imagine the entirety of Boruto was Sakura's dream in Infinite Tsukuyomi. When Sakura manages to breakout during the war she's left to deal with serious ramifications of the life she just lived. She finds herself constantly questioning what's real and Kakashi tries to help her through it.

Mamihlapinatapai - FM_White || ao3 || E || itasaku || canon divergence || ongoing

Mamihlapinatapai・Yagan. (n.) a look shared by two people, each wishing that the other would initiate something they both desire, but which neither wants to begin In which Sakura tries her hardest to raise one hell of a rambunctious baby by herself, Sasuke is searching for something unknown, and Itachi is the uncle.

In another life where Itachi doesn't end up dying and instead tries his best to help Sakura raise his niece in Sasuke's absence. It's my head canon that everyone came together to help with Sarada just like they did for Kuranai, and so Mamihlapinatapi satisfies that thought for me. I like how Sasuke was criticized in this since as much as I understand the necessity of what he's doing, I also find it completely unfair to his wife and daughter. Itachi and Sakura form a great bond and it's all very domestic and just super fluffy all around, which I love.

Louder than Words - SouthSideStory || ao3 || T || sasusaku || non-massacre AU || complete

Sakura hasn’t uttered a single word since the day her family died, but Sasuke is determined to hear her, one way or another. (No Uchiha massacre AU.)

Sakura gets taken in by the Uchiha family after Fugaku finds her on a mission. She's been mute ever since, but that doesn't stop her and Sasuke from forming a close bond.

Snake Bound - shefalls || ao3 || E || sasusaku || canon divergence || complete

"You... took me with you." "That's what I said." "To Orochimaru. You took me with you, to Orochimaru." Sasuke nodded curtly and shoved the medical kit a little more insistently into her hands. Sakura accepted, and prayed to every known god that Orochimaru would ignore her existence. She should've known the gods don't listen. Now only on AO3. Sequel up.

What if Sasuke took Sakura with him like she asked? Snake Bound explores that idea and it's honestly a very uncomfortable read. Their relationship is based off of the isolation and dependency their new situation puts them in. All they really have is each other and the new bond that brings is not a healthy one.

Armour-Sleeved Single Hit - thatdamnuchiha || ao3 || T || madasaku || time travel AU || one-shot complete

Sasuke always told Sakura she was weak. Even after she trained with Tsunade for years he only had eyes for Naruto whom he considered strong. She would forever be invisible to him no matter how many mountains she toppled.Being a member of Team Seven despite Sasuke’s refusal to acknowledge her meant she got herself into her fair share of sticky situations. Getting stuck a hundred odd years in the past had to take the cake though.But she was just a weak little girl and compared to the shinobi of old she’d be ridiculously pathetic. Sasuke had said she was weak to him – a modern day shinobi who hadn’t been forced into battle after battle like they did in the Warring Clans Era. Obviously she’d be nothing more than a spec of dirt in the eyes of the Founders.

Sakura manages to find herself in founding-era Konoha! While trying to prove that medical ninja are capable fighters she unknowingly gains the affection of Madara Uchiha. After all, the Uchiha find beauty in strength. Super cute read!

Always You - alex-halcyon || ffn || T || kakasaku || age swap AU || complete

[AU. Age-swap] Kakashi x Sakura. From academy days to the third shinobi war and beyond, Kakashi and Sakura grow up and fall in love.

Basically, Sakura takes Rin's place on the old team 7. The progression between the character is quite interesting as it definitely isn't smooth sailing for Kakashi and Sakura. However, even through everything they find themselves drifting towards each other. Pretty cute imo.

interim - stannide || ao3 || T || sasusaku || blank period || one-shot complete

Sasuke lives with Sakura in the weeks after the war.

Interim is such a wholesome read where Sasuke and Sakura rekindle their former relationship. Super fluffy

Hit Me With Your Best Shot - Tozette || ao3 || T || sasusaku || blank period || one-shot complete

Sasuke is actually eighteen the first time he looks at Sakura and realises abruptly that he wants her.

I think we all know by now that Sasuke has always been attracted to strength, power, so why not when it comes to romance? Essentially, one day on a mission, Sasuke discovers he has a strength kink. Watching him continuously get flustered throughout the fic because of his admiration towards Sakura's strength is so entertaining. Really fun read

the problem with how time works - MurderMittens || ao3 || E || kakasaku || generation swap AU || complete

"I don't remember you being this uncomfortable when Kakashi was nine and had a crush on you," Ino pointed out neutrally. "You thought it was flattering before." She moved to pour more wine into their glasses as Sakura exhaled sharply out of her nostrils. "Obviously! It was fucking cute when he was a kid! But now he's..." she trailed off, gesticulating feebly. Ino, taking pity on her, finished the sentence: "Now he's a stone cold hottie who looks and sounds like he'd murder the ever-loving shit out of your vagina."

Sakura and Kakashi's generations swap place and boy is it entertaining. With Naruto as his sensei, of course Kakashi has met Sakura. Now that she's back in the village after years, Kakashi decides to try his best to win her over.

on still water - summersirius || ao3 || T || shisaku || canon divergence || complete

and sometimes, there are days without rain. —shisui/sakura

I'm actually devastated that the author decided to not pursue the plot line after about chapter 15 (it was so good too), but On Still Water is great nonetheless. Some really cute Shisui x Sakura moments

never let 'em know your next move - MirrorImage003 || ao3 || T || itasaku || non-massacre AU || one-shot complete

six times itachi is surprised by sakura, and the one time he's surprised by his mother.

Sort of drabble style moments between Itachi and Sakura and it's honestly adorable.

Hatsukoi - sparklyfaerie || ao3 || sasusaku || gen || non-massacre AU || complete

Sasuke leans away as the girl turns to him, and his mother doesn't need to be any closer to guess as to the expression on his face. The girl's body language changes in an instant, and Mikoto recognizes the posture of a little girl in love. It's kind of adorable.

Probably one of the cutest sasusaku fics I have read as Hatsukoi follows them from genin to marriage! It's told in multiple perspectives and it's full of tooth rotting fluff. You get to watch the slow progression of their relationship over time and how they grow even closer in Naruto's absence. Definitely read is you want something light!

(oh, you'll probably go to heaven) please don't hang your head & cry - SafelyCapricious || ao3 || T || itasaku || time travel AU || one-shot complete

There’s no such thing as a good death. But Sakura faces her death without any regrets. Her dying is keeping her precious people safe — and that’s all she can ask for. So she dies with a smile, taking thousands of enemies with her. She wakes up and falls off the branch she’s laying on.

More of a pre-ship than anything actually romantic, so maybe this isn't the best for this list lmao.

Ghost - twilightdazzle || ffn || M || sasusaku || canon divergence || complete

Sakura is officially declared missing on a Wednesday morning. Wednesday, what a stupid day to go missing. Of course, Sakura is the only person he knows that is annoying enough to interrupt the middle of the week like this.

Sakura goes missing and this fic is basically Sasuke slowly losing his mind over it. Ghost is honestly pretty darn touching and feels true to Sasuke's character. Everyone is concerned for Sakura and that doesn't exclude him despite how nonchalant he makes himself seem.

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Send me some recs if you have any to share! I'm generally fine with any ship as long as the story is good :)

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moriitis · 1 month ago

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How freaky do you think Toby is?

Like, do you think he is into public sex or getting caught being intimate with his partner? Or does he enjoy being intimate with his partner alone?

-🫐🔮 Anon

How freaky is Toby?

Content/Warnings; sex, mentions of public sex, mentions of porn, masturbation, being sexually frustrated, mentions of murder.

Toby 100% at first is a virgin. Like, this man would not have gotten any action before he murdered his father and it's not like he got much action after. (I know him and Clockwork did stuff together and he probably lost his virginity to her.) But even after that, he's still insecure and awkward as fuck! I wouldn't be surprised if a part of him just assumed every woman was the same and there was just some kind of magic button he could flip that would make them orgasm. I don't really think he knows much about himself either? Like, I don't think he's ever sat down and really considered what turns him on or what makes him horny? Like, his dick will just get hard and he'll rub one out to deal with the issue if needed.

And fuck the whole debate of, 'is Toby an ass or titties kind of guy?!' because we all damn well know that this man is both. I don't wanna say this man is horny all the time - but in the end of a day, he's a dude and he's gonna get a lot of random boners that make no fucking sense. And no, he's not gonna suddenly get turned on or aroused if a woman is nice toward him, just more things like if he were to accidentally brush a hand against your waist or you put a hand on his knee. I feel like physical touch is more boner inducing than 'omg she smiled at me, omg shoulders, etc.' LIke, he's down bad but not down, down bad. He's just awkward and despite the little experience he has, he's sailing a ship blind essentially.

Lowkey feel like he has a lot of unrealistic expectations when it comes to sex too. I don't wanna say he lives off porn, but I see him using Pornhub or Twitter occasionally to help him jack off (even his imagination at times when needed but that's hard because he usually ends up thinking of weird shit that turns him off.)

Toby got energy too, depending on the situation and stuff. He will cum within seconds, I'm gonna put that out there but he can continue going until you're satisfied.

Onto the question though, is Toby a freak? I think his freak level will depend on his partner. I'll be honest at times Toby can be a little sex obsessed, he mostly uses pleasure in an attempt to feel something and forget about his problems (but post nut clarity will hit him HARD.) I feel like his sex drive will try to match his partners. You don't want to have sex for months on end? He's fine with that, sure he'll try to initiate something or attempt to turn you on but if you brush him off or say no, he won't persist. He's not one of those asshole guys where sex is expected, if you're not up for it - that's fine! But he'll jack off later to help relieve himself if he's really sexually frustrated. (And yes, since you guys started dating he dropped Pornhub.) Same thing for the other way round, if you wanna have sex everyday, shit, he'll try and keep up!

On the topic of public sex, I'm gonna say no. I think the idea interests him enough but he's not going to pull anything risky. Slender trusts him with going out ito civilisation, he's a wanted criminal and the last thing he wants to get caught for is fucking public indecency. Not only that, but if Slender did find out? If either of you got caught? If he got caught and you got away? I don't know, I don't think he could live with himself and nor does he trust Slender enough to not punish you too. Now, Toby is a notorious rulebreaker though, I think between the other three, Kate, Tim and Brian, Toby is the one that breaks the rules the most. But that would explain why is memory is so fucked up. Plus, he's someone's man now, idk the idea of being in a relationship matures him a little.

If you tried to initiate something in public, he'd probably maybe sternly tell you off a little.

"No, no, n-nnow isn't the time. Let's do this l-la-later, yeah? Be good for me, huh?"

"I'll make you feel good, j-just me n you. Come one."

Like sure he'll get hard at the idea of you being so sexual and the risk of it all, but Toby isn't that fucking stupid. I think the worst part for him would be how tempting it would be, so he'd struggle internally for awhile.

But he'd make it up for when you guys are alone. Considering how awkward he is, he would prefer to do these kinds of things alone. Now, would that stop him from fucking the shit out of you in his car? No! But as long as you're parked up somewhere dark, he don't care. It's not like he would be ashamed for fucking somebody as perfect as you, in fact, it's normal! God damn, what could be worse, public sex or murder?

And yes, he will fuck you with the lights off. He's just insecure, maybe at some point he'll find some confidence to allow light, but as long as he can feel you and hear you - he's satisfied. Although he does love when you ride him when he's sat in the drivers seat of his truck, he loves seeing your facial expressions so close, your hot breath on his lips.

#creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #ticci toby #toby rogers #ticci toby headcanons #ticci toby x reader

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charbydis-musings · 4 months ago

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Ambrosia: Chapter 1

This wouldn't have spawned without Anniflamma's Manwhore!Au for Epic and raving with @scyllas-dogs about Poseidon backshots on election night to cope. Enjoy. TW: Sexual themes, mild violence, biting, and Zeus. A03 link

“Enlighten me, Odysseus. What do you value most?” Patience was a waning thing in Zeus’ tone, the god leaning in close and as smothering as the humid front of a storm. A strong hand grasped Odysseus’ jaw, bringing in the king nose to nose to with a god who now stood to scale with the man atop the deck.

The unblinking eyes of his crew and the electric gaze of a king upon him, nowhere to run and none to outwit. To persuade? Odysseus raised his chin in Zeus’ grasp, shrugging off his tattered tunic from his shoulder, “There are many roads to settle a debt owed, no?”

The fingertips digging into his jaw faltered a moment, the gall of a mortal making Zeus falter for a scant moment before he spoke, “Persuade me then.”

Choose.

Not a question, but a demand thundering from the heavens. Hand braced against the mast of his ship, his last ship, Odysseus staunched his wound with little more than a trembling palm as he locked eyes with the King of the Gods.

A face he had not hoped to see again since Troy burned. Zeus loomed as tall as the decimated sails of the boat. Eyes as brilliant as lightning glowered upon him and his crew.

The fingertips digging into his jaw faltered a moment, the gall of a mortal making Zeus falter for a scant moment before he spoke, “Persuade me then.”

Odysseus steeled himself, avoiding Eurylocus’ stare weighing upon his back, going so far as to voice, “Capt-“

A glare from Zeus landed with the cracking of thunder. The god’s larger palm closed on the front of Ody’s tunic, drawing him in closer at the threat of an interfering hand. Perfect, Ody seized the opening, tangling a hand onto Zeus’ curling mane of sun bleached hair.

Odysseus tasted of sweat and the iron of blood, the same which wept from his wound and stained Zeus’ toga as the King threw himself into the kiss as if his life depended on it. In truth, it did. Zeus grasped his backside for leverage, feeling the mortal’s fragile pulse hammering against his bruised ribs like a fluttering bird.

Fragile, scuffed, and so close to breaking. A slip of the hand could fell a man in his state, left in the palm of a god. Fortunately, carnal hunger outweighed the satisfaction of dead men slain for a sin. The groan Odysseus released was a rasping one, the man’s grip slackening on Zeus’ locks as his body slumped against the god.

There was something admirable in his gumption to try. Splaying a palm over Odysseus’ back, Zeus hoisted the man into his arms with a sigh. “Ride the wind eastwards if you lot wish to see your home again. I will not spare you a second boon.”

In the clap of thunder and flash of lightning, the pair vanished from sight. ----------------------

Odysseus awoke to the babbling water and rising steam, his cheek resting against the supple firmness of a man’s thigh. His eyes snapped open, spine going ramrod straight in alarm before a strong hand cupped the back of his neck.

“Rest.” Zeus chided, pushing Odysseus’ down to rest in his lap once more.

Odysseus set his jaw, grasping the rim of the pool with a heated, “What have you done?”

“Nothing beyond what I was bid to consider.” Zeus arched a brow, “Settle your debt not in blood, little king, but with the flesh and its pleasures. I find the prospect agreeable nor is my wine bearer against the idea of a respite.”

Odysseus turned his face lower, rasping out, “I can’t be daunted again, I have to make it home-“

“To Penelope and Telemachus. You sang your plight quite succinctly to the sirens before ruthlessly butchering them.” Zeus held a freyong lock of brown hair that was increasingly streaked by gray in recent months, “A year. Withstand that sum of time in service as my wine bearer atop Olympus, then you shall find yourself returned to Ithaca.”

“…What of my crew?” Odysseus asked after a pregnant pause.

“On course to reach the isle in three days time if they follow the prevailing winds I bid Aeolus to cast.” Zeus flatly replied, “My boon is my end of a bargain struck, little king. Now tis time for you to uphold yours.”

Odysseus didn’t have time to speak before Zeus’ lips were on his throat, tongue and teeth working against delicate skin. The god laved his tongue over Odysseus’ throat with a rumbling sigh in pleasure, his hands wandering south towards the mortal’s thighs for a proper grasp.

Odysseus writhed, sputtering out a gasp as blunt teeth broke the skin of his throat and were liable to leave bruises in their wake. Zeus was unbothered by his thrashing, hiking Ody’s thigh over his hip and dipping him into a kiss in the shallow waters. Braced against the steps of the basin and chest to chest with the king of the gods, Odysseus’ pushed against Zeus’ chest and finally broke contact, “Wine bearer or whore, be straight with me!”

Zeus grimaced, “You opened this door, Odysseus, do not be affronted when I come to collect.”

A hand moved to grasp his throat, a weight and a warning as Ody’s breathing faltered in anticipation of a choke that never came. Roughly, Zeus wedged a knee between Ody’s shaking thighs and rasped against his ear, “Yield or I can cast you to my brother, little king. His sense of justice is far more inflexible than my own. He writhes and protests even now as I withhold you from the grasp of the ocean. Is his ire more alluring than my affection?”

Slowly, Odysseus shook his head, silent as the grave when he spread his legs.

“Good.” Zeus clapped his shoulder and withdrew, satisfied at having tested the waters. Odysseus was left panting on his back, tense and his member throbbing with need.

“T-Thats it?” He whispered under his breath, feeling Zeus’ fingers lift his chin.

“For now. You’re clean enough to walk these halls, come.” Zeus stepped from the bath, casting a sky blue swath of silk towards Odysseus. With it a heavy broach of an eagle lay in the cloth.

Ody swallowed thickly as he left the pool and examined the garment, “…What became of my tunic-“

“Ruined beyond measure.” Zeus stood tall over the king, not one for modesty it seemed as he was less quick to dress. Ody’s gaze tentatively ventured south, his mouth going dry at the girth between Zeus’ strong legs- the girth he’d been inches away from.

Hastily with cheeks aflame, Odysseus turned his gaze down towards marble floors.

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

In the palace of the gods, Ody mercifully could place few faces. Hermes nor Athena were present to see him at Zeus’ feet, narrowly covered by the blue toga offered to him. Much of his chest and bruised throat lay exposed, the draping toga managing to cover his backside and upper thighs at least.

The ruined canvas of bruised skin and bites was plain to see, as intended. Odysseus kept his jaw set and his eyes downcast as he raised the golden bowl higher towards Zeus’ expectant hand, fine wine sloshing in the vessel as the offered libations.

Things first went awry when Zeus grasped Odysseus’ by the throat, tender enough not to choke, yet forceful enough to draw a gasp from the king. Drawn up onto the throne, Zeus grasped the libation bowl, brows furrowed in contemplation as he mused, “A sweeter cup than gold might be the supple flesh of a man. What does a King taste like? I wonder.”

Wine was heavy and cool against Odysseus’s face, flowing in a red stream from his crown and down his cheek to his throat. Zeus was a man unrestrained in his lusts, laving his tongue up from Ody’s bruised jugular. His lips moved from neck to jaw, the god drinking his fill of wine from Odysseus’ flesh. Wincing at the drink staining his hair and beard, with one eye shut to avoid the sting, Ody grunted at the contact as he gripped a tight fistful of Zeus’ toga. The hand on his throat shifted from neck to hip, drawing Odysseus onto Zeus’ lap to straddle his hips.

Discarded, the empty bowl clattered to the tile as Zeus tangled a hand through Odysseus’ hair. Golden eyes were filled with mirth as he basked at the sight of the disheveled king, “Sweet as nectar.”

Odysseus groaned, tucking his face into Zeus’ shoulder, doing anything to avoid eye contact in his fluster. He felt the throbbing want of the god against his groin, obscured solely by fabric and feeling the heat of Zeus’ need with unfettered intensity. Rather than take his pound of flesh, Zeus was content to let the king catch his breath, a warm comfort against his broad chest.

His trends with Ganymede had been no different, his court unbothered by the sight of another fair face adorning his throne. With a face flushed as deeply as wine, Odysseus exhaled hotly as he tried to inch away from Zeus’ prodding member- halted with a hand grasping his backside openly.

Zeus’ grip on supple flesh was firmer than a soldier’s palm to a sword, ever a man reluctant to part with his spoils.

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Odysseus cursed under his breath as he rinsed out the drying, tacky texture of wine from his hair, stubbornly looking away from Zeus as the god lounged on a chaise with a glass of wine in hand.

“Loyalty like yours is a rare thing.” Zeus remarked, chin resting atop his closed fist as he watched Odysseus, “A crew decimated, the odds of survival ever growing slim, and not once did you buckle in consorting with another. Until now.”

Odysseus held his tongue, shoulders taut as he remembered the slamming gales of the storm and Poseidon’s cruel lesson.

Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves.

“Anything to get home, it became the price I had to pay.” Odysseus replied, his tone distant as he finally saw the water run clear.

“43 men left under your command when my brother decimated your fleet. 37 with the price offered to Scylla.” Zeus mused, “Blood would stain your hands all the same, you chose who would bleed by one way or another.”

“…It was an infant.” Odysseus whispered, head low and his curling locks hiding his face.

“It was the will of the gods,” Zeus coolly countered, “Root and stem, or you suffer an endless cycle of upstarts and budding chaos. If you cannot learn ruthlessness after Poseidon’s instruction, may a year under me leave you a wiser man with an ounce of more piety.”

Odysseus worked his jaw, moving to grab the pitcher of wine and a glass of his own. Zeus watched his brewing frustration, brows furrowed as he sighed, “Hubris will be the death of you, little king.”

“Maybe.” Odysseus muttered, nursing his glass with a heated exhale.

Zeus hooked a finger though the front of Odysseus’ toga, drawing the king into his lap, “Ten years without your wife’s touch, how did you weather celibacy, Odysseus?”

“Do you not love Hera as a man loves his wife?” Odysseus questioned in return, equally as bewildered.

With a deepening frown, Zeus sighed, “Does wine always render you so morose?”

“No.” Odysseus gruffly stole another sip before Zeus had the wisdom to pry the glass away.

“If my wine bearer craves libations, he ought to be properly served.” Zeus drawled.

Ody grimaced at his glass being held aloft, his disdain faltering into disbelief as Zeus poured the wine into his cupped palm.

Sweet red wine danced and dripped from the god’s broad palm, Zeus’ grin growing wide as he grasped Ody by the front and lightly pulled him forward.

“Drink, King of Ithaca.” He crooned, enjoying how wide Ody’s eyes had become as the man bared his teeth. He refused to lean in and press his lips to Zeus’ awaiting palm. Impatient with the ling’s petulance, Zeus brought his hand to Ody’s soft mouth, grasping the man’s jaw as he guided him to drink.

Odysseus swallowed, reluctantly and with burning indignation coloring his cheeks red. Zeus admired the sight, “I will tame you yet, my wolf-“

Blunt teeth split divine skin, honeyed ichor mingling with wine as Odysseus bit the hand which fed him.

Zeus wrenched back his palm, eyes blazing in fury as electric static crackled until- gold stained Odysseus’ maw, the man licking his lips instinctively at the new taste of blood and wine. A dark thought fluttered across Zeus’ mind, there are many ways for him to taste me.

Odysseus had stepped back, wiping his mouth with a wince and not a word in apology as he cursed, “I am not your damned pet!”

“You are mine,” Zeus rumbled, advancing on the man and smoothly seizing Odysseus by his narrow waist. Draped across Zeus’ shoulder, the King of Ithaca was helpless as the god grasped his bare thigh and ass, striding like a soldier on a mission. In truth, the only mission on Zeus’ mind was to see if finally, he could have a man so proud moaning like a concubine astride his cock before the night was out.

#Manwhore!au #epic the musical #fanfic #zeus x odysseus #alternate universe #manwhore au

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totothewolff · 9 months ago

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Chemtrails Over the Yacht Club Collection 18+ | Toto Wolff x reader, age gap, smut operator, clear daddy issues (this fic is inspired by Lana del Rey, duh), and yacht culture.

Summary: Toto Wolff is a name often mentioned at the Yacht Club, where you work after classes. For some reason, you have always pictured him as an old crank like the usual members, not this foxy man who arrives at the reception making your knees quiver. The entire staff goes frenetic as he, one of the Club's most important clients, chooses to spend his spring break there without previous notice. You pray to the Gods that you don't cross lines with him since your entire livehood depends on this job, and you really want to graduate college. Author's note: This was supposed to be a one-shot but was way too long, so I split it into two chapters. I hope you enjoy them. By the way, this version of Toto has questionable morals.

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2 - Breaking up slowly

As Mr. Holst's gateway yacht trip reaches an end, you follow protocol and deliver Toto the guest's satisfaction survey before docking in the Club's harbor.

It's supposed to be confidential and private for the guest. Still, Toto reads you the questions and tells you his answer as he writes them, evaluating you while you sit on his lap in his cabin armchair.

"Any complaints or suggestions, please elaborate," he reads you. "Yes. Y/N's skirts should have been shorter. They don't do justice to that ass," he jokes as you blush, still in awe of him.

He squeezes your ass cheek and gives you a hard slap leaving a red mark, instantly turning you on.

"Fuck me, daddy" you beg him against his lips, already placing you on top of him.

Your clothes hit the ground.

You aren't sure if the waves are rocking the hull that hard or if it's Toto's powerful thrust as he fucks you relentlessly, firm grip on your hips, fingertips pressuring on your skin.

The guests enjoy the yacht's amenities till the last minute before docking in the harbor of the Yacht Club.

The crew and you are all but busy, going everywhere, attending to guests, and running safety checks and protocols.

You attend to Toto's daily demands as he peacefully sunbathes before going to his cabin to change outfits. His tan skin makes him look even more handsome.

You overheard him telling the person on the other end of the call that he was going to a meeting downtown.

He'll be gone the entire day and the whole of your shift. At least a bit of a break for you!

These past few days have been a dream but tiresome.

As the sailing master safely and perfectly anchors the yacht in the harbor, the guests start to descend the ship. A small committee of girls with beverages and canapes welcomes them.

The only people remaining onboard the ship's deck are Toto and you; he wanted to go last.

As you two casually talk, he pulls out an envelope from the insides of his blue blazer and offers it with his hand for you to grab it.

"Sorry, what is this?!" you ask, looking at the rectangular yellow envelope.

"It's a brick of money, isn't it?" you think.

"Your tip," he confirms your thoughts.

"But that is excessive. No way I'm accepting it."

"Do so," he sounds authoritarian as usual. "'It's going to help you with that fine."

"Oh, hey, listen, I will make it, don't worry about it."

"Y/N," he sounds serious, his eyes looking straight at you. He is a very kind and sweet person on the inside. Still, on the outside, he is always cold, stony-looking, demanding, and impossibly hot. "Take it," he enunciates, his controlling trait displaying.

You have noticed, just by being by his side all these days, the pull and effect he has on people and still holds on to you. He is someone you want to impress, to win his approval and have his attention.

"What do you think this is "Pretty Woman"? Calm down, Richard Gere!" you dare to joke to change the mood a bit.

"Aren't you too young to know that reference?" he still answers sternly.

"I live with the rom-com connoisseur, aka my aunt." you smile brightly at him.

Toto has avoided stepping onto personal life terrains, wanting to remain far apart.

"Last time I offer it, take it. You need it. Besides, it's not like you are going to buy a Kelly bag with it; it's for your tuition."

"A what?!" you think. "Wait! How does he know that? I don't remember mentioning that to him."

"Thank you, but I prefer to maintain our relationship non-monetarian." you stand your ground.

"Our relationship?" Toto thinks.

He places the envelope back into his inside pocket as he said he would and steps off without looking back at you, moving along with his day.

"Welcome back to land," Chloé greets you the next day as you clip your radio on your belt in the staff locker room. You're getting ready for another shift before hugging her.

"I'm impressed! I must admit. You almost, ALMOST, achieved it! You got a really good-rate review on the satisfaction chart from Mr. Wolff, something I've never seen before." Then, she makes a dramatic pause.

Only if she knew...

Before continuing: "But not so with Mr. Elrod. He placed a formal complaint since, according to him, your incident with him was life-threatening."

"OH COME ON! He barely swoll!" You look annoyed and want to smash the locker with your fist.

"I know, I checked. Still, I'm really proud of you! But Raphaël called you to his office, so please go there now."

Oh God, you hate going up there!

You arm yourself with patience while climbing the swirling stairs to the upper floor of the management wing of the building, where the big names' offices are.

He makes you wait for a long time. The fucker knows the long wait it's going to delay your chores and make you leave work late. Until his assistant informs you from her chair at the front desk that you can go in.

You open the large glass door into the Assistant General Manager's office with a speech already prepared in your mind in case of the worst.

Raphaël is leaning back on his enormous executive leather chair and massive desk that screams small dick energy, looking sternly at you.

Raphaël is a very posh, solemn, and wealthy fucker who is besties with Mr. Holst and his entire family and extended family, a textbook social climber.

A very uptight asshole. Raphaël chose to dislike you from the moment you set foot at the Club; he tries to get you fired at any given chance.

Most of the girls who work there are beautiful and come from an obvious upper class; most are daughters, nieces, or granddaughters of...

The Yacht Club is where the rich teach their kids a lesson on the value of work or use it as a perfect excuse to kick them out of the house for a few hours.

Usually, they get hired because daddy made a call, and you are none of that.

"Ah, good morning," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I see you're still here. I'm surprised you didn't quit on the spot after that dangerous incident."

You take a deep breath and try to keep your cool. "Good morning, Raphaël. I'm still here because I'm committed to doing my job to the best of my ability and finding a solution to the problem rather than blaming myself."

Raphaël snorts. "You're the one who caused the problem, sweetheart. You're always causing problems. You're a liability to this company."

You feel angry at his words, but you keep your composure. "I understand you're upset, but I'm trying my best."

Raphaël swings a bit in his chair, his eyes narrowing. "You're just a silly girl who doesn't know how to do her job. You're lucky I'm even giving you a final and last chance to prove yourself."

You feel a lump form in your throat. "I understand you don't think highly of me, but I'm trying to do my best; I have learned fast and proved myself worthy."

Raphaël laughs a cold, cruel sound. "You're just not cut out for this job, sweetheart. We are the best and need the best on our team."

"I...I don't know what to say," you stutter.

Raphaël leans forward, his eyes glinting with triumph. "Just thank Ava, sweetie, for changing Holst's mind. You're on thin ice, one more mistake, and you're gone. You can leave now," he dismisses you.

"Thank you, I owe you one, I guess," you whisper to Ava for saving your ass as you cross paths with her in the beautiful and perfectly maintained gardens.

"You were kind to me," she says in the same tone as usual, not as friendlier as you would have liked. "I trust you keep our conversation from that day private."

"Pinky promise," you offer her your pinky. She looks at you with an "ugh" expression, rolls her eyes, and walks away. A couple of steps further, she turns to smile at you.

Now you two are best friends for life in your head! IJBOL.

The following two weeks are a swirl of moans as Toto, and you can't keep your hands off each other.

You fuck everywhere private and remote enough, where there are no security cameras.

You can't have enough of his dick and his body. You are so infatuated with him.

Every time he calls in you at his villa, you end up fucking; it doesn't matter how hard you both try to fight the urge to do so.

He has had you against the door, his bedframe, or the room's vanity, on top of the piano and even in the jacuzzi. The sex drive of that fit man is spectacular, and you are young enough to keep its pace.

You have never been so sexually active and free in your life, learning and experiencing many things for the first time. Toto makes the best teacher and lover you have ever had.

By this point, you lost count of how many times you have moaned his name, called him daddy, or the number of times he has made you cum and beg for more.

Your aunt and close friends start to notice your glow. Lately, you look radiant and happy.

She is intrigued to know the reason behind it as you two go to the mall on Sunday.

"FINE. I WILL TELL YOU! I'm dating the most gorgeous, wise, handsome, accomplished, hot guy, AND HE IS SO INTO ME! Can you believe it?!"

"Oh, I can. My niece is great! And where did you meet this adonis, and most importantly, does he have an older brother?"

"He is an older brother!" you want to say but don't.

She doesn't need to know every single detail, not yet. You want to keep it a surprise for when you take Toto home.

"He has a sister," you answer.

"Ah! And what else can you tell me?"

"Well, he is from Austria! I plan to invite him over to have dinner at the apartment so you can meet and ask him all the questions you want. What do you think?"

The look she gives you! You had never taken a single boy to the house. This must be serious, then.

"Has he tasted your cooking yet?" she wonders before answering.

You shake your head.

"Well, if he survives it, then it's true love!" you two laugh as your aunt jokes and links her arm with yours before adding: "Please invite him for dinner. I'd love to meet him, but you know what! Better buy lasagna. We want this to work, right?!"

You love to text Toto sweet and touchy messages throughout the day that hint at how he makes you feel, how much he means to you, and how great it is to be with him.

You are in love.

Yet, you try not to suffocate him or embarrass yourself, still being nervous around him, still wanting his approval.

Toto still intimidates you. Being the powerful and dominant man he is.

You can't believe you snatched him! Lucky girl!

But in your mind, fuck! Wedding bells are already chirping, and future children's name-searching is already happening.

The Yacht Club has a museum/memorabilia section that almost no one visits. It's located far away from the lobby and main guest areas, and for obvious reasons, it has many security cameras.

But next to it, further down the hallway, there's a blind spot on the CCTV system, right in the space of the door to an old phone room.

In this room, the original antic magneto wall set telephone is still mounted on the wall, along with a stern wood chair where people used to chat in private.

You ask Toto to meet you there after he texts you he hasn't seen you today.

Also, you want to inform him that you are going on a "two-day leave" plus the weekend, so you will be away from him for four days.

You don't want to send him mixed signals, and you're getting paranoid that he might think you're running away.

And since you don't want to miss him, maybe he could join you if he wants and feels like it. You know, couple life outside the Club.

A hand-in-hand walk through Monaco's streets sounds nice; a cute date with wine and kisses sounds more than good.

When he closes the door behind him, the place looks ridiculously smaller.

You immediately stand on your tiptoes to kiss him, wrapping your arms around him as you greet him.

You share small, soft kisses for a while.

He sadly tells you he can't join you on your break.

Since he extended his stay, Toto has things scheduled on his agenda that he is supposed to be doing in his office in London.

"But I'm going to miss you, daddy," you pout and give him the biggest Bambi-begging eyes.

"Not even that it's going to work. Try it with my assistant. Thanks for trying tho."

"Where can I meet her?"

He laughs before pulling you into a more intense kiss.

"Should we say goodbye to each other?" he says against your lips, caressing your neck.

"It is crazy how four days felt like nothing before you; now that I have you in my life, it's an eternity."

He holds you closer, pulling you by the waist.

"Then let's make it count enough to stay in each other minds for those days."

"You are permanently on my mind," you confess, burying your face in his shoulder, all red, and not even being able to look at him while feeling the expensive material of his jacket brushing your skin.

Then, your mouth finds his, kissing him hungrily. You push your tongue into his mouth, tangling with his, your hands sliding up the hard planes of his chest, then drifting over his shoulders to find the hem of his shirt.

Your fingers feel his warm skin, sending a jolt of pleasure through him as you trace the contours of his muscles.

The smell of your perfume, jasmine, and vanilla intoxicates him. This scent will remind him of this moment as he passionately claims your mouth.

Slowly, you undress each other, savoring the anticipation. As hands wander over defined abs, curves, and dips, caresses become bold strokes.

The pads of your fingers move lower, exploring the ridges of his abdomen. With a smoldering look, you glance up at Toto, a wicked smile on your lips.

Heat spreads through him as you press yourself against his groin and your bare breasts against his chest. He can feel your heart pounding.

With a soft, playful jerk, you touch his growing excitement. "Eager, daddy?" you ask.

He nods.

You waste no time, and you get down to your knees as you take him into your mouth as he is sitting in the chair. Your warm, wet tongue swirls around him, your head bobbing gently as you work him in and out of your mouth.

His fingers find their way into your soft, silken hair, gripping it gently, urging you on.

His pleasure moans grow as you work your magic, your tongue and lips exploring him for a while.

Slowly, you move up till your lips brush the shell of his ear.

He commands you. "Ride me, now."

You shift your weight, adjusting your position to better align with Toto's cock, and you sink onto him, your pussy fitting itself around his cock like a glove; you feel a jolt of pleasure.

He fills you completely, and you allow yourself a moment to take in the intensity of that feeling, skin against skin.

Your hips begin to sway, moving gently to the rhythm of your shared breathing. With each undulation, the chair beneath you becomes part of the dance.

Toto's hands, which had been resting at his sides, now find their way to your waist, his fingers digging into your flesh as he feels you move against him.

Your breath is warm and soft against his neck as your bodies rock with each movement. You feel your core tighten, your pleasure growing in intensity.

The control Toto wields over the rhythm, and you is intoxicating. Your breathing quickens.

"Faster," he orders you; you moan, obedient and needy. He wants you full force.

You feel the intensity of your coupling, the friction becoming almost unbearable.

You throw your head back mid powerful and intense bounces and cry out, desperate for release.

His hands move to grip your thighs, his fingers applying pressure into your soft flesh as he guides your hips up and down to meet now his intense thrusts, Toto's bucking his hips up now, and your full breasts bounce against his sculpted chest.

Your lips meet in a passionate kiss; tongues entwine at a pace as hungry as the one below your waists.

You tangle your hands in Toto's hair, tugging it gently to urge him for more as you clench your sex around him, drawing out an animalistic groan from deep within him.

"Fuck, yes, Y/N," Toto growls through gritted teeth. He slams his balls into your pussy again and again, driving you both closer to the edge.

Your bodies are all slick with sweat as you shudder atop Toto, releasing a visceral moan with an orgasm radiating from your core and rippling through every nerve in your body, dripping all over his shaft and thighs.

He growls low in his throat, a raw, primal sound that reverberates through the room as he surrenders to his own release.

Every day away, you text him, exchanging photos and moments from both days.

You can't keep away from him.

Upon your return, you attend and cheer for Toto, who is participating in the regatta rally.

The sound of seagulls surrounds you, as does the smell of salt water and fresh coffee wafts from the food and beverage stalls, enticing the crowd on the quayside.

As the starting gun fires, a fleet of sleek, high-tech sailboats burst into action, their crews navigating the intricate course set out on the water.

The crowd cheers and chants as the boats round each mark, their helmsmen and women trimming their sails to maximize speed.

As the regatta approaches its climax, the top boats are neck and neck, and Toto and his crew are straining every muscle to gain that precious extra yard.

The tension is palpable as his boat crosses the finish line, and he and his crew leap into celebration as they win the rally.

Meanwhile, champagne corks pop on the quayside, and glasses get raised in a toast to the winners.

The air is filled with conversation as the member's friends and families mingle, congratulating each other on a thrilling day under their giant sun umbrellas and comfy outdoor chairs.

Meanwhile, you remained sitting on the pier under the sun with your crew coworkers by your side, waiting for your guests to return and watching the action unfold on the waters.

All of you girls, legs hanging, white sneakers almost touching the waters beneath you, dress in blue shorts and white polos with the Club's logo patch on the left.

After a while, the sun and the wood surface start to irritate your face and ass, respectively.

You smile brightly at Toto when you spot him reaching closer in the boat, locking eyes with him.

His shirt is all wet, and what is beneath it is showing. You fight the urge to run your hand all over his chest when you reach him after the trophy ceremony.

As you finish setting Toto's regatta equipment back inside the shed in his villa's garden view deck, Léo approaches you, thinking you are alone.

Staring at your bend over the body, eyes on your ass. An excellent view.

Toto watches this from inside. He stepped inside to go shower.

"Y/N!" you turn without flinching, familiar with the voice and happy to hear it.

"Léo! Hi!"

"I missed you, cutie," he says to you, even if you are a girl. Then he welcomes you with a tight hug, pulling you off the ground.

Toto wants to see how the scene unfolds, still without making himself be noticed.

Why is that guy standing that close to you? Doesn't he know personal space?

He watches you two chat, you looking all happy and smiley, telling Léo all about your past days while his eyes burn on you.

Toto catches desire in them, so when Léo places a hand on the shed and around you, Toto steps in.

"Kid," he calls for you. "My drink," he reminds you what he asked you to do next.

"Oh! Yes, sir!" You quickly move to serve Toto's drink. Léo gives him a "those manners!" look, and they share a quick exchange.

At that moment, Toto glimpses at his cook uniform in bright daylight and tells him, "I didn't ask for any food." This is a subtle hint to better leave.

When Toto moves to stand right behind you, you can almost feel his knee in the back of your thigh.

Léo proceeds to leave, sending him a silent fuck you with his eyes.

"Bye, gorgeous! See you around, my girl." Léo addresses you but holds his gaze at Toto as he walks away, looking back.

"Okay..." you think, watching them interact.

"Let's go, kid," he orders you.

"Where?!" you ask as he drags you by the arm, a firm grip on your forearm as he pulls you along.

"Move," he instructs.

Minutes later, the sun warms Toto's back as he expertly maneuvers his jet ski on the waters. Going extremely fast as you hold tight to his body, the jet ski roaring beneath you, surging forward as water sprays behind you.

The salty ocean breeze whips through his dark hair and yours.

A desolate yet inviting small beach appears in the distance as a coast unfolds. Toto gestures to you to the sandy expanse, "There."

You glance at the beach in question and raise your delicate eyebrows. "You brought us here? Why?"

"I have something to make clear." It's all he answers, in a harsh voice, before reaching land.

The waves lap gently against the fine white sands of the isolated coastline. You take a moment to enjoy the sounds of the ocean and the serenity of nature surrounding you.

Your skin and Toto's glisten with sweat, seawater, and sunscreen.

His gaze roams over your body, relishing the breathtaking view. He licks his lips, unable to resist himself any longer.

His eyes are so intense on you that he almost looks angry. Toto's expression dangerously morphs into a lust-filled one.

He leans closer to claim your mouth in a rough, passionate kiss. Parting your lips brusquely, allowing himself to explore and taste your sweetness with his tongue while holding your neck with a stern grip.

His hands move to press your slick body firmly.

Toto then powerfully lifts you from the ground and takes you further into the beach, finally pushing you to the sand and rolling on top of you, feeling your breasts crush against his chest.

He pulls your legs open and places them around his waist, roughly handling you, nails pressing into your skin, and he sighs in pleasure, feeling your warmth pressed against his.

He moves to remove your clothes roughly and quickly, almost tearing your polo shirt; within seconds, you are both naked. "Beautiful," Toto whispers, voice dangerous.

Your eyes flare with desire and curiosity as he has never handled you this rough.

With no hesitation or warning, he pulls his rock-hard length inside you, making you gasp at the sudden move. Toto's voice rasp in your ear, "Only I can fill you up."

You nod eagerly, biting your lower lip.

"Say it," he demands.

"Yes, daddy. Only you can fill me," you whisper, your voice thick with arousal.

Those words send Toto's self-control over the ledge.

He slides into you frenetically, your pussy taking his hard hits with thunderous moist claps. He is fucking you so harshly in such a powerful rhythm you can barely take him.

You bury your nails in the sand surrounding you, grasping. "Daddy!" you moan so loud.

"Fuck, your pussy feels so good," Toto growls, biting down on the curve of your neck.

His thrusts are desperate and animal, and every muscle in his body is rocking. You arch your back, moaning nonstop as Toto keeps hitting that perfect spot deep inside you, relentlessly.

"Daddy! Please," you gasp for air. You can barely take it anymore. "Daddy! I can't." his balls deep thrust keep going. A massive moan escapes your lips.

"Be a nice girl, take this dick good." He commands.

"I-, I-, Daddy, please." Your fingers dig into his shoulders, urging him to let you catch your breath.

"You are only mine to have." Toto's mouth claims yours, swallowing your moans.

"This pussy is all yours!" you are barely able to say, shaking violently under his strong jabs.

"Again," his dick slams you harder.

"I'm only yours!" you scream in an orgasm, breathing real loud.

"Again," he slams you with his dick again.

Your whimpers grow louder.

"I'm yours, daddy!"

The feeling of his raw masculinity taking you over, dominating you entirely, sends ripples of need through your core.

Each drive of his hips is a powerful claim, a branding that declares you his.

"Good girl, now it's clear." He kisses your lips softly and licks them, running his wet tongue all over them.

With one final thrust, he buries himself as deep inside you, feeling you clench and pulse around him as you cry out.

Toto's body shudders with the force of his release. You stay there, panting and covered in sweat and sand as the waves crash upon the shore, matching the rhythm of your breathing.

Toto stays inside you, wanting to remain close for a little longer. He places soft and sweet kisses all over your face, now tenderly caressing you. His soft touch is all over you.

He collapses in exhaustion next to your side. The two of you are naked with your backs to the sand and facing the sky, feeling the sun's warm rays on your skin.

You can't help but smile as you look over at Toto, lying beside you with his muscular chest heaving up and down.

"We're quite a mess," you chuckle, gesturing to the sand and fluids that cover your bodies.

Toto laughs, "Nothing that a quick rinse can't fix."

He watches you stand up, brush the sand off your ass, and sprint towards the ocean.

Toto follows you, admiring your naked figure and the way your ass moves as you stride.

You dip your toes into the water, squealing as a wave crashes over your feet. Toto comes up behind you, planning to plunge you into the water, so you playfully run from him.

He catches and kisses you before lifting you in his arms and bringing you inside the water with him.

He admires your ability to be open-minded, fun, and fearless in pursuing new experiences, especially those involving him.

A call bell coming from Toto's living room makes you speed there. Your chores today were so fucking tedious; by this point, you have like four good hours inside the china's closet.

As soon as you enter, he informs you, "Kid, I need my things packed by 2 p.m."

"You are leaving?!!" That sounded more desperate than you expected.

"I need to fly to sign papers in my London office. I will return on Thursday, just in time for Holst's Casablanca-themed birthday party."

Oh, yeah, next week is going to be crazy. A fucking colossal gala it's going to take place at the Club's gardens.

When the elevator doors to Toto's office slide open, a burst of energy and femininity floods the room as the most stunning woman enters.

Toto's office is on the top floor of a sleek, modern skyscraper, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering an unobstructed panorama of the bustling London's metropolis.

Her impossible curves seem to have been crafted by the gods themselves.

Her long, dark, sleek hair cascades down her back, framing her heart-shaped face and highlighting her stunning eyes.

With her full lips in a deep shade of red, she moves with a confident stride, her high heels clicking on the floor as she makes her way to Toto's desk.

Her toned and shapely legs seem to go on forever. She is supermodel tall, and the way she moves her hips is enough to weaken any man in the knees.

Irina sits in one of the expensive designer chairs in front of Toto's trendy clear glass desk. Her fitted dress hugs her curves in all the right places.

Her shoulders are bare, and the gentle swell of her breasts seems to strain against the fabric.

Her hands are long and elegant, and she has a massive diamond ring on the fourth finger of her left hand.

As she leans back in the chair, her hair bounces against her shoulders, releasing a faint scent of perfume.

Looking busy behind his desk, Toto can't help but look up from his papers, his eyes locking onto hers with a mixture of surprise and admiration.

Toto's iPhone buzzes on his desk surface as Irina moves to get comfy on the expensive velvet sofa by the wall after a good chat and a successful exchange on Irina's part.

Reminding Toto of his responsibilities in life.

He picks it up to open your chat.

"Since it's our first month anniversary and you are away. I had more time to prepare a gift for you." you text Toto.

He watches a photo loading on your conversation.

A photo of a completely naked you arrive, standing back to the camera behind a see-through light fabric curtain that looks like and is the one in his bedroom at his villa.

Your shoulders, back, and ass are on full display, your silhouette looking delicious to him; you are posing with your arms up, both placed on your head, and your hair is in a bun.

No face, just body, in a contrast of light.

Toto feels like jerking off to that photo when a second one arrives.

It's a close-up photo of your breast; you are laying on his bed in the villa, again with light fabric on top of your tits, nipples hard, looking ready for him to bite them: no face or more body below your waist on this one.

"What a masterpiece," he replies. "But who took them? It's that my villa? How did you manage?"

"A dear friend of mine takes boudoir photos. I lied to Chloé and told her the photographer came for a photo session appointment with the guests I'm serving during your leave."

"An that dear friend is?" instantly possesive.

"Anne, a girl friend from college, she is an art major," you quickly reply.

"They should hang them in a museum."

You feel so proud of yourself for making him react like that. God, you miss him.

"Hey, kid, you are home?" he looks at his Rolex, running calculous.

"Yes"

"Do me a favor then."

"Sure!"

"Touch yourself till you cum, and moan my name loud." you get wet, reading the text.

"Would you do the same, daddy?"

"Yes."

Irina wonders who makes him smile like that.

As you prepare everything at Toto's villa for his return, along with Chloé, you dare to ask her a question and discuss a topic you have been dreading for so long.

"Does Mr. Wolff have a leave date?" you gain the courage.

"He already overextended his stay, which is rare, as rare as him showing up unexpectedly as he did. Mr. Wolff is one of those people who schedules everything in advance and always informs us months before, so something must have happened." She reaches out to you to help you place the fresh sheets on his bed.

"So, no date?" you ask again.

"You grew tired of him already?" Chloé looks straight at you.

"OH. NO, NO. I'm just curious," you quickly add, waving your hands.

"No date, child"

Is he staying for you? You wonder in your head.

You two have never talked about your future.

Toto leaving without you has become your biggest fear in life, like ever.

The night is fully set over the sea, and the Club's grounds are set by the strumming of a Moroccan guitar, which sets the tone for the true extravaganza about to happen.

You see Ava fixing Mr. Holst's bowtie as he prepares for his grand entrance.

The Club's gardens transformed into a Moroccan oasis, and the towering palm trees were now adorned with twinkling fairy lights.

The crowd erupts into applause as Mr. Holst enters, resplendent in a tailored white suit and sunglasses, à la Rick Blaine, escorted by a troupe of really hot and barely dressed female dancers, who performed a mesmerizing choreographed routine to the iconic tunes of "As Time Goes By."

The tables are set with fine china and crystal glassware, adorned with candles and a sumptuous spread of Moroccan delicacies, including tagines, couscous, and fragrant pastries.

The aroma of exotic spices wafts through the air.

Meanwhile, at the bar where you are currently working, the mixologists are shaking (not stirring) up signature cocktails inspired by the classic film's iconic characters. The "Ilsa," a refreshing blend of gin, lemon, and mint, is a particular hit among the guests.

The place is packed with wealthy people from around the globe, all friends of Mr. Holst and his wife, and the bar is the busiest spot.

You are so busy that you haven't even had a chance to look for Toto. He must be somewhere looking all handsome in a classic tuxedo! Gosh, you die to see him and kiss him.

Then, Mr. Holst takes center stage once more, surrounded by his wife and children. With a heartfelt speech, he starts the party.

As midnight approaches, a massive three-tier cake held by two big guys enters in the old style, and everyone sings Happy Birthday to Mr. Holst as fireworks light up the night sky!

The crowd cheers and oohs as sparks rain down upon them.

Then, you have your first break of the night. Some of your coworkers at recess get dinner, light a cigar, or just sit down in the crew's hidden section. It's been crazy!

You use the opportunity to text Toto: "Hi, my love. Where are you? I want to see your handsomeness in a tux. Daddy, I miss you so much."

As a tipsy Toto is laughing and drinking with Holst and his wife when the couple reaches the table where he is, Irina picks up his phone, buzzing on the table.

She reads the text you sent him and chunks of your conversation.

"Who the fuck is "Kid"?!"

She then starts looking at the photos you shared, fuming, especially when she finds the ones from the boudoir photo session you took for Toto.

Oh, no, baby! Her wedding with Toto is happening, yes or yes, and she will not allow you to interfere!

Toto will not slip away from her! Not now, she got him back at the palm of her hand and into his senses!

It worked wonders to give him that bit of a break after he got cold feet and had second thoughts about committing himself to her.

No one touches what is hers, and she is about to teach you a lesson!

Now that she knows your face, it is just a matter of time before she finds you there.

Apparently, you work here.

You are navigating through the crowded party, surrounded by the thumping music and the hums of conversations because your boss asked you to move to attend a special guests table.

As you walk there, you feel a pair of eyes burning into your skin. The hottest woman you have ever seen is staring intensely at you.

It turns out to be the table where Raphaël parents are. So, to your misfortune, he is also around, adding an extra stress layer to your night as he behaves demanding and pays attention to your every action.

As the night progresses, you feel unsure if you are being paranoid or that woman has been watching you for a long time, her gaze flicking from a phone to you again.

Mr. Holst greets you, and you congratulate him on his birthday; he sits to chat with Raphaël's elderly mom.

The hot woman suddenly swoops in, her long legs striding across the room to you.

Her eyes flash with anger as she grabs your arm, her nails digging into your skin. "You think you're so special, don't you?" she hisses, her voice low and venomous, taking you completely by surprise.

You try to shake her off, not knowing what the fuck is happening! But she's too strong.

She pulls you closer, her face inches from yours. "You're nothing but a foolish little fling to Toto," she sneers really loud for everyone at the table to hear.

You start to feel all eyes on you as she causes a scene.

"This means nothing to him! You are just an entertainment." she continues.

You feel a surge of embarrassment as you realize what's happening.

Toto looks at you two, his eyes wide with surprise, but he doesn't intervene. Your bosses are standing nearby, their faces frozen in shock.

Irina shows you the stunning diamond ring on her hand and holds it up for everyone to see.

The table you attend falls silent, and all eyes are on you. Humiliation hits you as you realize the scope of what's happening.

"You think you can just waltz in here and steal my man? Toto is marrying me," she says again, her voice dripping angrily. "Me! Stay the fuck away!"

Irina flings back into the crowd, her words echoing in your mind.

You feel tears stinging in your eyes as you turn to flee the party.

"Don't even bother to come back. You are fired." Raphaël addresses you, firing you in the spot, catching you preparing to leave, his gaze burning with triumph and victory.

The sounds of laughter and music fade into the distance as you stumble into the night air, your heart heavy with sorrow.

Léo and Chloé look astonished as they watch you leave after witnessing the show Irina put on.

Your heels are hitting the floor faster, and the trail of your fitted gorgeous gala dress sways behind you.

You know that you will never be able to show your face at this place again and that no one will ever look at you in the same way after this.

God, you are so mad at Toto and even more heartbroken!

A loud knock comes at the door; maybe your aunt left work early. "Coming!" you look like a mess with swollen eyes from all the crying and feeling like shit and heartbroken, destroyed, dusted, you name it.

Toto's tall figure greets you when you open the door.

"How yo-?!" you look at him, eyes filling with anger and tears again.

"Ava," he interrupts you. "She got your address and sent me in a car here."

He reads your intention to close the door to his face and stops it firmly with his muscular arm.

Toto invites himself into your apartment. Standing beside the worn-out cupboard, he looks out of place, especially in that expensive tuxedo.

Gosh, he looks so dreamy, fuck him!

"Irina was completely wrong. You are not entertainment; what happened with us was real; you are important to me, more than you imagine." He goes straight to the point, not wasting time making things clear.

You feel a couple of tears run down your eyes. Lots of emotions for just one night.

He reaches closer to wipe them with his fingers. "I shouldn't have allowed Irina to talk to you that way and embarrassed you. Please forgive me. For all. We were on a time off when I met you."

"Irina? You thought that was his sister. You heard Holst asking him about her at brunch, along with his mom," You stupid girl!

"I called off the engagement for good." He looks straight at you and closes the steps between you.

"You did?!" and you die to add the "for me," but you contain.

"Do you still want me?" he asks, leaning closer to your lips, his breath brushing your mouth.

"Yes," a beg escapes your lips.

Toto is there to apologize for the hurt he caused. He wants to reach for you, to hold you close, but he doesn't know where to begin. So, instead, he does the only thing that feels right at that moment.

His lips find yours in a tender kiss, at first gentle but exploring, as if trying to find his way home.

You respond with a soft sigh, and your hands roam over his back, muscles reacting to your gentle touch.

Your mouths open to each other in a deep, consuming kiss, tongues darting and twisting, exploring every spot of the other's mouth.

Before any of you knows what is going on, you stumble your way towards the bed, Toto's hands finding the hem of your short nightgown, pulling it up and over your head, revealing your naked body.

The sight of your bare skin is enough to take his breath away.

Toto's fingers trace the curves of your breasts, thumbs flicking at your stiffening nipples as you gasp and arch into his touch.

God, you always feel so good.

"Fuck," he mutters, bending his head to capture one of your nipples in his mouth. The taste of your nipple is intoxicating, and he moans in pleasure as his lips close around you.

Toto's mouth works its magic on each flick of his tongue and grazes of his teeth; you get wetter, your arousal building up.

Then his fingers find your folds, slick with need, and he spreads you open, fingering that pussy he very much loves.

He groans at the contact, his cock throbbing in response. He needs to be inside you. He needs to lose himself in you.

Clothes go out of the way.

Toto looks up at you, asking for consent, and with one swift motion, he enters you, his cock sliding into your wet, welcoming heat. You gasp as he fills you, your body adjusting to his size.

He doesn't move yet. He gives you time to get used to him. His eyes never leave yours as he waits, his breath hot against your skin. The anticipation is unbearable, and you rock your hips against him, urging him to move.

Toto growls, low and deep in his throat, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into you. The force of his thrust pushes your body down against the bed, and you cry out as pleasure shoots through you.

The feel of Toto inside you, filling and completing you, is unlike anything.

Toto's thrusts become harder, more urgent, driving into you with a force that had you moaning out his name over and over again, lost in the pleasure of the moment.

The sound of your sweat-slicked bodies slapping against each other, the wetness that escapes with each thrust, fills the small room.

Your breasts bounce with every move. You are so close to the edge, your orgasm building deep within you. Toto feels your inner walls begin to flutter around his cock, the sensation driving him wild.

"Fuck, Toto!" you cry out, clutching at the sheets as your body trembles with pleasure under his thrust.

He repeats the motion over and over again, your body shaking beneath him, your moans desperate. Toto feels your body tighten around him and your inner walls milking his cock.

With a final, frantic thrust, Toto lets himself go. He cums hard, filling you with his release.

As you both come down from your high, Toto collapses onto you, his body panting and slick with sweat.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as you both catch your breath.

Toto presses a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips brushing against your skin.

"Toto, I... I..." you try to build the courage to say.

"Yes?" His voice is husky but caring.

"I- I love you." You are all red, looking down, unable to face him.

He pulls your chin up tenderly with his finger before kissing your lips.

Before you dare to confess: "I never loved someone this much, I... I want a life with you and you to be my future. Could, you, I don't know, think about it, maybe, you know, you could... take me... with you to London, it sounds good."

A trail of kisses comes your way. "I will think about it, but let's sleep first. It's almost 4 a.m." he rubs his eyes and wraps you around his body.

"Yeah, I'm exhausted too; a lot happened." You kind of laugh and move to enjoy the view of his naked body, caressing him till he falls asleep, and you, too.

As sunlight creeps into your small room, you wake up disoriented. It's a hot day, and the AC is off.

"Toto?" you call his name; his body is not next to you, and you hear sounds from the kitchen.

"Is he making you breakfast? How sweet!"

You get on your feet and quickly pull some clothes on. You don't want to miss that moment for your life.

You pull the slightly already open door of your room to be greeted by an unexpected scene.

Surprisingly, your aunt is there, cooking breakfast for your mom. You look around the apartment, confused.

"Surprise!" your mom lets out from one of the chairs on the small round table. "Oh, it's only me, honey!" your mom informs you, thinking you are looking around to spot her family. As usual, believing life revolves around her.

"Are only just you two in here?" you ask.

"Ahm, yes..." your aunt says, holding the pan. "Well, no, if you count the ghost that lives here, the one who likes to throw my flowerpots."

"It's a cat!" you add before walking fast back to your room. Then you look at the clock, fuck! It's almost 1 p.m.; it's not breakfast time. It's lunchtime!

You pick up your phone, no new texts or calls from Toto; maybe he is dealing with shit after what happened. It's too bad you cannot go back to the Club.

What is that?!

You notice a folded piece of paper on the nightstand. You feel the fine paper on your fingertips as you open it:

"I'm sorry to do this to you, kid, but I can't."

And just like that, he exits your life.

Join us at The Wolff Pack Discord Server > https://discord.com/invite/tpgArxqbfd

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junosmindpalace · 6 months ago

Note

Hi, loved your last dcst headcanons, so here's another idea.

We all know that they the team travelled by ship the most. Well, how about a modern AU, characters (Ryusui, Senku, Tsukasa, Ukyo, any others you like) taking their s/o /friend on a trip?

Like, method of transport, why would they decide to do it, what will they do at the destination. If that's not too specific, of course.

hi there! thank you for your request! i love imagining the dcst characters pre petrification in modern era !!

SENKU:

When Senku suggests trips, they can be mostly last minute and pretty unexpected.

He’s mostly hush hush about all the details as he plans it, which is evident when Taiju found out last minute about his plans to go to Africa.

It’s almost the same for you, but with a little bit more of a heads up so he knows how to prepare.

Nevertheless you’re still caught off guard when he randomly suggests or asks if you’d want to come on a trip somewhere with him, usually motivated by an experiment or scientific curiosity.

As for the destination, I think it depends. We know he’s not below just keeping his locations to some place locally. Dude is traveling all over the world on impulse.

So you’re really trying your best to predict whether or not you’ll be flying over to the next continent or taking a train ride when Senku suggests a trip.

Method of transportation also depends on the destination. Again, if it’s somewhere faaaar far, plane is the way to go. If it’s within the country, however, you’ll mostly likely be taking some trains.

The destination itself, no matter what it is, is also something that will always leave you surprised. Whether it’s some remote place or a museum or whatever it is that is the source of Senku’s curiosity, most of the time Senku is going with a clear idea of what information he wants to get. So he’s primarily focused on that.

But he encourages you to find amusement for yourself, too, and would absolutely love it if you helped him with his research.

RYUSUI:

Hou boy, where even to begin with Ryusui and travel.

Method of transportation is obviously the first thing I have to talk about; you’ll be traveling first class, absolutely luxuriously, no matter where it is you’re going. Could be a ten minute trip into some place locally and you’ll still be getting the best accommodations money can buy.

Whether it be on a plane, train, or bus, or one of the Nanamis’ personal jets and helicopters and what not, you’ll be smooth sailing (literally and figuratively) the entire way. Ryusui might also be pretty eager to take you on his ship once it finishes, so be prepared for some eager talking and insistence to come along with him, and even more eager captaining.

The destination itself, similarly to Senku, can be pretty spontaneous, or at least it seems that way to a lot of people. He’s quite used to suddenly springing up trips he wants to take; he probably has the means to up and leave whenever he wants.

But no matter what it is, he always encourages you to tag along with him with a boisterous laugh or a solemn expression, depending on the goal of his visit. No matter what, he loves commanding his ship and showing you all the fascinating things he’s learned about them in the time he dedicated himself to its art.

Again, similarly to Senku, the trips are often motivated by a sudden desire to do, see, or obtain something that he isn’t able to with his own two eyes or hands within the country. And as Ryusui wants to act on his desires as soon as possible, most of the time he gives staff a day to prepare pilots and vehicles. It’s also time he gives you to consider his offer of tagging along.

Seems a bit unfair, but Ryusui always brings you back in one piece! And you may also find some fun in his eagerness to include you in his activities.

TSUKASA:

Probably the most normal when it comes to traveling. As in there aren’t any insane locations or high end accommodations.

The most frequent kind of travel Tsukasa generally does (or suggests for you to tag along on) is to the hospital where Mirai resides, or to MMA fights and related interviews. He probably trusts you enough to see those vulnerable parts of him, and it may also contribute to some sort of comfort he feels when he gets lost in his head and heart full of hard feelings and thoughts. Having someone he cares about just standing by the corner and giving him a small smile helps ground him and offer a small smile back.

That doesn’t mean trips are limited to these occasions, however. Most other trips would be dates; nothing too high end, but still fun and heartfelt events that pop up locally. And of course, if there’s a specific place you’d like to visit, Tsukasa is more than happy to come along no matter what it is.

Unless you receive accommodations for interviews and scheduled fights, most of the time the two of you will either be taking the train, driving, or walking, depending on where it is you’re going. Tsukasa loves walking through parks and beaches with you the most.

UKYO:

Don’t know how much time he’d have for traveling, generally speaking in terms of his work, so they might be sparse/few and far in between.

But just like Tsukasa, trips would probably be more casual and planned out a little more compared to Senku and Ryusui’s seemingly impulsive and loosely structured trips to wherever for whatever.

Ukyo probably intentionally plans bigger trips like day outs or overnight trips around the available time he has off from work. He looks forward to getting to spend some time with you doing something fun and interesting.

He would probably want to plan the destinations alongside you, too. The itinerary is carefully compiled together, but not too rigid as to cause stress. They’re usually anywhere and everywhere; cafes and restaurants never before visited, parks and scenic routes, and perhaps some stores in between. He’s more than happy to tag along to anywhere you want to go.

Mode of transportation also depends on where you’re going, but like Tsukasa, the most frequent modes of transport are driving, by train, or by walking. Though he hates getting stuck in traffic jams, so public transport and walking are usually his go-to’s.

No matter where it is, though, Ukyo is just happy to spend some time with you, especially if your separate responsibilities have been keeping you apart.

#i swear some proper oneshots are on their way regularly writing is just a pain #dr stone x reader #dr stone headcanons #dr stone oneshot #dr stone fluff #dcst x reader #dcst fluff #dcst headcanons #dcst oneshot #senku ishigami x reader #ryusui nanami x reader #tsukasa shishio x reader #saionji ukyo x reader #senku ishigami fluff #ryusui nanami fluff #tsukasa shishio fluff #saionji ukyo fluff

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thus-spoke-lo · 2 years ago

Text

Between What Was and What Will Be // stepdad!Shanks x fem!reader NSFW/18+ [minors DNI] // Read on AO3 // WC: 7.4k

A/N: Modern AU. Written for @killsaki's Family Ties Collab

CW: dead dove, do not eat--please heed content warnings; dark content; stepcest; age gap (reader is 26-27 and Shanks is mid-40's); minor character death (reader's mother); reader refers to Shanks as "dad," not "daddy"; themes of angst, unresolved grief, mourning, and co-dependency; alcohol; some dub-con elements; non-consensual voyeurism; masturbation (m and f); vaginal fingering; oral sex (f receiving); protected vaginal intercourse

Synopsis: Shanks was the raft that kept you afloat during your teenaged and young adult years, helping you navigate the unsteady waters of your family dynamic. When he's all you have left, changing tides push you apart and a distance grows between, until an impulsive decision to return home for a long weekend forces you to confront uncomfortable truths.

Monday, 11:24 A.M.

When are you going to come visit?

The text had been waiting there unanswered for days, sitting on your chest and slowly crushing you with every passing hour that you let it linger.

It had been nearly six months since the funeral, where you’d stood next to Shanks and held his hand while the world seemed to crumble away around you. She was your mother, but it felt like it was in name only; you were an accomplishment checked off a list of things to do by the time she turned thirty, an accessory she loved to flaunt and then tuck away until the next time she needed her ego stroked. You were fed, clothed, dropped at the bus stop every morning before she went to work and parked in front of the television at night to babysit you until bedtime; you never allowed yourself to believe you suffered any great injustices, other than the fact you felt alone and adrift while you watched her ship sail past you again and again.

She brought Shanks home when you were just fifteen, married him and moved him in less than a year later, and for the first time it felt like you’d found a piece of driftwood to keep you afloat in the choppy water. He had nothing but smiles for you every morning, only laughs and kind words at night when he’d squeeze you tightly before you headed off to bed. He was Dad, just Dad, in the early light of day when he’d kiss your forehead and hand you your backpack on the way out the door, Shanks when he dared challenge your teenage moodiness—which he rarely attempted, leaving you to have your fits until you were ready to throw your arms around him again and ask if he’d take you to the shore over the weekend so you could sit on the dock and read your textbooks in the sun while he fished.

He’d been good to you—taught you to drive, dropped you off at college, had warmth waiting for you when you’d come back for the summers, and a hug that felt like an invitation to return home when you’d have to leave again. When you’d graduated and moved for work, he almost seemed to mourn you, despite it being just an hour away by car and despite your repeated promises that you’d come home as often as you could. In contrast, your mother had only a forced smile and a flat “good luck” to offer you—you were of no use to her now that you had nothing immediate left to accomplish, nothing she could live vicariously through, and your presence felt immaterial. But not to Shanks—to him, you mattered, always.

He’d been good to you, and despite it all, it had been nearly six months since you’d seen him. And now you sit at your desk, the hum of the office washing over you, the subtle ping of another email alert making your skin crawl, and you stare at the text, thumbs hovering above the screen as the cursor blinks, trying to think of what to say. You finally manage something, something you almost regret, and send it before you can back down: How about this weekend?

The answer comes almost immediately, and it makes your heart race. Really?

Really. You want to say more, but that’s all you can muster as you start to wish you hadn’t answered at all.

Oh that’s great, honey. Let me know details when you can.

The clacking of the keyboard echoes in your ears as you type up an email to your boss, and you find yourself smiling in a way you hadn’t smiled in months.

It unnerves you to your core.

—————

Thursday, 7:18 P.M.

Shanks stands on the front porch, the late summer sun still clinging to the clouds, casting him in dusky peaches and tangerines. His white shirt is half-unbuttoned, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his cargo pants, and a smile settles on his lips when he sees you for the first time.

“Hey kiddo,” he says, a quiet uncertainty laced through each syllable. He runs a hand through his crimson hair, pieces falling softly against his jaw.

“Hey there.” Heat rises in your cheeks, nervousness pulsing in your veins, and a sudden feeling of exhaustion perches on your shoulders as you shuffle up the sidewalk.

“How was traffic?”

You shrug, and drop your duffle bag to the ground. “Didn’t take long. It’s easier once you’re out of the city.”

He hesitantly walks down the three steps from the porch to where you stand, and places his hands on your shoulders. He studies you for a moment, the corners of his mouth raising and lowering as he sees the worry settled in every soft contour of your face.

“God, it’s just so good to see you,” he says, just above a whisper. “You look good, honey.”

“So do you, Shanks.” You can’t bring yourself to call him anything other than his name; it tastes wrong the way it sits on your tongue, but dad sounds distorted to your ears these days.

The lines at the corners of his eyes crinkle as he grins, and he suddenly grabs you, holds you tight to him, like you’ll slip away if he lets you go. Your body stiffens at the sensation, and he seems to take notice, releasing you from his grasp and taking a step back. He crosses his arms over his broad chest and glances at the pavement. “Sorry, why don’t we head inside? I’m sure you’d like to sit down.”

The house has been painted—a soft sage color that contrasts with the new, mahogany-brown leather couch that sits in the center of the room. Like the chair Shanks had in the corner of the spare room that he used as an office—the one you used to sit in while you’d watch him fix his fishing lures, pretending to do your homework but instead watching his thick fingers delicately wrap string around colorful feathers, his brow furrowed, a piece of wire held between his lips.

The kitchen smells of coffee, smoky and bitter; Shanks smells of musk, and spice, and the salt of the ocean, just like always. You sit over steaming cups too hot to drink just yet, your hands wrapping around the mug you made in ceramics class, and carry on like you’d never left home, never stopped making the hour-long drive from your apartment to this house most weekends after you’d moved to the city.

It was as if that night had never happened.

You’d gotten back from the funeral, taken off those god-awful dress shoes you hated, walked barefoot into the kitchen and slumped down at the table. You and Shanks sat in the dim golden glow of the overhead lamp, each with a too-full whiskey glass in your hands with the bottle positioned between you. It was the first time you had more than a moment of quiet all day—you were raw from people hugging you, crying into your shoulder, telling you how sorry they were like they thought it would do you any good. They needed you to cry, to be upset, to show some sort of sorrow over her—but instead you smiled politely and thanked them, shook their hands and rubbed their backs, let them tell you stories about a version of your mother you never had the privilege of knowing.

“It would have been ten years,” Shanks finally sighed, tilting his cup back and forth. “Ten years next Tuesday.”

“I know.” You stuck your finger in your glass, poking at the crumbling corner of an ice cube, then raised your fingertips to your lips, licking off the liquid that clung to your skin.

He downed the rest of his drink, drops of amber landing on his tongue, and snorted a laugh. “God, she fuckin’ hated anniversaries.”

“Birthdays, too.” Most especially your birthday, an inconvenient reminder of her own mortality.

Shanks placed his hand on yours, stroked you with his calloused thumb while he stared at the tablecloth, counting fibers to avoid your gaze. His touch was tender, needy, like he was trying to extract love from you with every graze of your flesh, absorb it into his skin. He leaned closer, stopping just inches from your face with his lips parted, as if to tell you something—but words never came and instead, he exhaled softly before pressing his mouth to yours. A hand slid to the back of your neck to keep you still, as he kissed you delicately, whiskey still fresh on his lips, bitter vapors in his mouth. It was the alcohol that kept you from stopping him, you told yourself as you let him take what he needed from you—it was the alcohol, and it was because you pitied him, and it was because you were lost and grieving. You uttered not a word as he eventually pulled away, and you pushed your chair back and stood, squeezing his shoulder as you passed and headed upstairs to your old room.

As you laid in bed that night, staring at the creased and faded posters on the ceiling, you gripped the sheets and cried for the first time all day. The tears were not for her—never for her—but because you knew that moment at the table wasn’t about pity, it wasn’t about loss, it wasn't about anything in between. It was because you wanted it—you wanted him. You wanted him to comfort you, and you wanted him to love you, and the way he seemed to smell it on you made your stomach churn and acid creep up your throat. You tore yourself from the mattress and headed into the bathroom to sit on the floor of the shower and try to burn away any trace of him with the hottest water you could stand. The sound of water rushing around you, thick droplets splashing every surface, was enough to overwhelm your wandering thoughts—and enough to drown out the sound of Shanks softly knocking on your door, pleading with you to let him in while he muttered slurred apologies against the wood grain.

You quickly packed and hurried to your car while he slept passed out on the living room floor, an empty bottle tipped over nearby, and drove back to your apartment in the city to bury yourself in bed and drink until you were good and numb. The morning came far too soon, the sun urging you awake to ruminate amongst the twisted blankets and sweat-drenched sheets. You fumbled for the phone that was hidden under the crumpled linens, seeing a string of missed calls, and just one text: Please talk to me.

You fought the urge to walk out onto your balcony and chuck the phone into the street, just to watch it shatter. Instead, you paced your living room as you called that one friend—the one who was always a little too nice to you, who brought you homemade lunches and hung on your every word, who followed you like a lost dog trying to find his way home—and told him you were lonely, that you needed him. Soon, he was in your bed, soft fingers digging into your hips, even softer lips pressed to your back, telling you how beautiful you looked in the morning light. He held you afterwards as you cried into the crook of his shoulder, and he soothed you, told you the mourning would end eventually, that all would one day pass.

He knew nothing of the grief that lodged in your chest—the anguish of wanting what wasn’t yours to take.

—————

Friday, 8:01 A.M.

“You’re up early.”

Shanks grins at you from the kitchen table, a newspaper spread out in front of him, bits of string and wire and metal scattered across the sports page. A clear plastic bin of feathers sits to one side, and something in you wants to overturn them in the air, just to watch them scatter and float.

“Am I?” You shuffle past him and squeeze his shoulder on your way to the coffee-maker. “This is sleeping in for me.”

“You’re on vacation, I figured you might want to catch up on some rest.”

You shrug and lean against the counter. “I have other weekends for that.”

In truth, since you’d last been home, sleep (or a state close to it) was what consumed much of your free time. You’d put in an appearance at a brunch, or smile through another tedious first date, then return home to listen to the comforting hum of a show you’d already watched. Lying on your couch, you’d swipe through profiles that seemed to promise you more disappointing first meetings and awkward conversations over burnt coffee or overpriced drinks, until you’d lose yourself in a haze of melancholy until bedtime.

Shanks stands and sidles up to you, wrapping a strong arm around your shoulder, pulling you into the softness of his shirt. “How about I make pancakes?”

“That sounds amazing.” You lean into his chest, containing a sigh at how much you missed this feeling—of safety, and warmth, and a sweetness you could drown in.

You sit at the table and watch him move through the kitchen, listening to his stories about clients and work friends, people whose names were engraved in your mind. The kitchen soon smells of vanilla and nutmeg, and the richness of butter, and the cloying sweetness of store-brand syrup. It reminds you of mornings not long after he’d moved in; suddenly, old friends—ones who’d long drifted away from you as high-school began to wane and adulthood appeared over the horizon—wanted to come over and gawk and giggle at your handsome new step-dad, whispering to each other about how his biceps flexed under his thin white t-shirts, and his chest hair peeked out over the collar. He seemed to know how to handle their kind, and would give them a chaste wink and a smile when they’d ask to stay for breakfast after impromptu sleepovers; he’d tell bad jokes and make French toast for a table of whispering, tittering teenagers while you silently seethed at the feeling of being used.

As you watch him now, flipping pancakes onto chipped plates with a flourish, trying to find any way he could to make you laugh, you grow heated as you find yourself unable to take your eyes off him, how he’s only gotten more handsome as he’s gotten older. You admire the way the muscled plane of his back stretches the grey cotton t-shirt, how the veins and tendons of his large hands move and flex under his tanned skin, how his red hair frames his face and his wide smile still feels like it’s meant only for you.

He places a plate in front of you and kisses the crown of your head, grabbing your coffee cup to get you a refill while he hums to himself, some silly little seafaring song he claimed his father taught him. Your hands settle in your lap, and your stomach turns while you watch a pat of butter slip off the pancake onto the plate, and it starts to dissipate into the puddle of warm syrup. It wasn’t a feeling of being used that made you fume all those years ago while your friends blushed and bit their lips at Shanks while he politely indulged their affections—it was jealousy.

—————

Friday, 9:31 P.M.

“So, how’s your dad holding up?”

“Shanks is fine,” you correct her as you sigh into your wine glass. You watch your friend check her phone again—the babysitter needs to know where the fruit snacks are, she says distractedly.

“Ugh, that poor man, all alone,” she pouts as she downs the last of her chardonnay. “You let him know if he needs anything—anything at all—that I’m only a call away. Well, we’re only a call away.”

You smirk at the way she catches herself, as if one mention of Shanks and, for a moment, she hadn’t been married for the last five years. She had sniffed out that you were in town for the weekend and suggested you catch up, and the last few hours were spent sipping overpriced cheap wine and watching her nibble on a salad, nodding and smiling through polite conversation until your face starts to hurt. You finally interject, saying you need to get home and check in with work before long, and so you hug and say your goodbyes and promise to get together soon, each of you knowing full well it’s a lie.

The door is unlocked when you get back, as if he was waiting for you to come home—just like the nights you’d sneak out to see your friends and drink in the woods behind the school, and he’d leave the door cracked so your keys wouldn’t jangle and your mother wouldn’t wake. He never said a word when you’d come downstairs for school still stinking of cheap vodka, only hand you a thermos of coffee and a bottle of water, whispering after you to take a shower before class; he was your accomplice, a delinquent teenager’s dream. As time went on, you started to find it less interesting to take late-night drives with older boys and have to cram for school in the morning when you could simply come home instead, and Shanks would cook you dinner and help you study for your chemistry final while your mother left for another social gathering, leaving the two of you to your devices. Disobedience became infinitely less attractive as a means of combating the loneliness that lived within you when you could spend your time with someone who seemed to want you there.

You walk upstairs, avoiding the steps that creak, the placement of each one still burned into your synapses from innumerable nights of trying to slip in unnoticed. As you place your hand on your doorknob, you hear something, noises that are utterly unmistakable, coming from Shanks’ bedroom across the hall: quiet moans and grunts slipping out from under the door, accompanied by the slick sounds of skin on skin.

Blood drains from your limbs and you stop, holding your breath, trying not to make even the smallest sound as you approach; it’s only to make sure you’re hearing right, you tell yourself, not for any other reason. Your back is pressed to the wall beside his door, shivering gasps passing through your lips as you hear him groan again—some part of you always wondered what it would sound like, how he’d groan and growl if he had you under him. A sudden ache builds in your core despite the way your stomach flips as you stand there, listening to him pant, hearing the creaks of his bedframe and you wonder how he does it—if he bucks his hips and thrusts into his hand, or if he lavishes himself with long strokes instead—and you start to lose yourself in your vile fantasies.

It’s wrong, it’s fucking wrong, but your hand lowers to the front of your jeans, two fingers pressing the firm seam into your clit, and you stifle a whimper as you throb. And then you hear it—your name. Your name, clear as day, mixed with a long, low groan. Your fingers move faster, pressing against your heat, your knees weakening as you hear him grow louder; His breath gets harsher, your name still escaping him in between an occasional curse, his pace quickening. The bed creaks more, and Shanks lets out a long growl, followed by a strangled sigh. Your hand flies up to your mouth as your own climax takes you, and you pulse under your fingers as you try to keep yourself still and silent. The bed creaks again, and you quickly head back down the stairs, avoiding the troublesome steps you know, but suddenly discovering that a new one has developed a whiny squeak.

“Honey?” Shanks shouts from upstairs, a hint of panic in his tone. “Is that you?”

“Yeah, just got in!” you shout back as you freeze in place.

You hear rustling and heavy footfalls down the hallway; Shanks comes to stand at the top of the stairs, his face flushed and pupils still blown, perspiration glistening at his temples.

“You’re back early,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest to hide how it rises and falls with heavy breaths.

“Oh, yeah.” You slowly climb a couple more stairs, your back sliding against the wall. “Things sort of fizzled out, so I figured I’d just come home.”

“Well, ah—do you maybe want to watch some TV or something?” He swallows thickly and glances at the floor. “I could make some tea, if you want.”

“I don’t think so. I have some work I should catch up on.”

“On a Friday night?”

“Yeah, even on a Friday night.” You slip past him and can smell it on him still, desire mixed with sweat, and it makes your nerves tingle.

“Well, I’ll be up for a little while if you change your mind, sweetheart,” he says as he starts down the stairs, glancing back up at you for a moment. There was something close to guilt written in the lines around his mouth as he gave you a tight-lipped smile and nodded before heading down to the living room.

It takes everything you have not to follow him, if for no other reason than being with him in strained silence, holding your perverted secret tightly in your chest, would feel better than being alone.

—————

Saturday, 6:18 P.M.

“So, whatever happened to that guy you were seeing? The big guy, the one with the earrings?”

You shrug, swallowing the cheap chardonnay that you’d found in the back of the fridge, the ghost of your mother haunting you still. “Didn’t work out. We broke up, like, a week before I came here for—well, the last time I was here.”

“Hm. That’s too bad.” Shanks raises his eyebrows as he sips his whiskey. “He seemed nice.”

“Yeah, well, he was. But nice isn’t always everything.” You sigh and chug the rest of the wine, setting the cup on the table beside you. “Dating is fucking hard.”

He leans forwards to gesture at you with his glass, and the ice clinks as it knocks against the sides. “See, what you need to do is find yourself an older man.”

“An older man?” you grin, raising an eyebrow at the suggestion, your heart thrumming as you pondered his intent. “What, you mean like Benn? I haven’t seen him in a while, is he still single?”

“What?” Shanks looks at you aghast before he dissolves into rich and robust laughter. “No! God, no. No, I don’t mean like Benn, he’s not good enough for you.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“Just—just someone older.” He glances down at his liquor. “An older man would know how to treat you right.”

You roll your eyes at him, and feel a tightening in your chest. “Do tell.”

He leans down and grabs the bottle of alcohol that sits at his feet, pouring himself another glass. “See honey, men your age, they—well, they don’t know what they want.”

“I mean, I’d say they certainly do know what they want,” you chuckle, raising your eyebrows. “It just doesn’t seem to align with what I want most of the time.”

“And what is it that you want?” Shanks shifts in his seat, moving just a little closer to you on the couch. “You’re not interested in one-night stands?”

You swallow and clear your throat as his knee brushes yours. “Not really. I mean, I am. Sometimes.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Just to, you know. Chase off the lonely nights.”

“So what is it that you do want?”

“I don’t know. Something stable. Something that feels…permanent.” You fiddle with your shirtsleeve and feel heat spreading in your cheeks—perhaps the result of too many glasses of boxed wine, perhaps the result of having Shanks interrogating you, his muscular body encroaching on your space. “Not like, marriage. Not now. Maybe not ever.”

“No? Not for you?”

“I don’t think so.”

Marriage never seemed something that was meant for you, not after you watched your mother cycle through husband after husband, until she landed on Shanks. You feared you were doomed to the same fate, chasing after satisfaction and validation from people who were kind enough, handsome enough, smart enough, but never exactly what you were looking for.

You inhale deeply and glance up at Shanks. His one arm stretches over the back of the couch, fingers dangling off the cushion near your shoulder, his other hand brings his glass to his lips. He half-smiles at you, his dark eyes seeming to study your face.

“What are you staring at?” you ask, a tension starting to build within you, something twisting deep inside, coiling up like piano wire wound too tight.

He sighs and blinks slowly at you, peering at you through half-lidded eyes, while his fingers brush your upper arm. “You’re just so damned pretty, you know.”

You force a smile, waiting to hear the same words everyone always tells you, even if you can’t see it yourself when you look in the mirror. “It’s ‘cause I look like her, isn’t it?”

“No.” He raises his hand to the side of your face, stroking your cheek with the rough pad of his thumb as his eyes settle on yours, holding your gaze. “I don’t think you look like her at all.”

His words feel like an invitation you can’t bear to decline, and before you can give it any more thought, you lean forward, pressing your mouth to his, hearing him sharply inhale at your gesture. His kiss tastes like it did that night—like whiskey, and warmth, and a fraught need for love. He doesn’t stop you, only sits still for a moment as you take what you need from him, his hand still pressed gently to the side of your face.

“Fuck,” he sighs into your mouth, and his tongue slips between your lips, entwining with yours with a bittersweet fervor. His whiskey glass drops to the carpet with a thud, the ice clinking as the remaining liquid spills out. You swing your leg over his lap and straddle his hips, wrapping your arms around his shoulders; his one hand slides to the back of your neck, holding you firmly against him as he claims your mouth again and again. Soon, the filthy secret that you had tucked away in your chest starts to claw at you from the inside, even as heat floods your lower body and you feel the weight of his interest start to press up into you.

“Wait. I need to tell you something.” The words are stilted, caught in a whimper as Shanks lets go of your lips and begins to lick and suck at the sensitive skin of your neck.

“What’s that?” he murmurs against you, his hands lowering to cup the swell of your ass.

“I heard you.”

He stops for a moment and warm, harsh breaths spread across your skin. “What do you mean, kiddo?”

“Last night.” You lean back so you can look at him, shaking hands gripping his shoulders to steady yourself. “I came home early from seeing my friend, and I—I heard you. I heard you saying my name.”

A moment passes as he stares at you, his already-flushed cheeks burning hotter, his breath quickening. “And?”

“And what?”

“What did you do when you heard me?”

You swallow hard, your mouth opening and closing as you try to find the words, but nothing manifests. He already knows—he has to.

“You listened, didn’t you?” he says with a wry grin, his words beginning to slur as he nips at your jaw.

“No!” You climb off his lap and back away from the couch, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. “That’s disgusting!”

“Is it?” He stands and walks towards you slowly, stumbling a little as he reaches you. He looms over you, a lascivious grin starting to form on his lips. “You couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

“Shanks, stop it.” You can feel the heat coming off him, and you can smell the alcohol drifting in the air—if you’re tipsy, he’s intoxicated.

“What?” He leans and runs his tongue over the shell of your ear. “If I’m disgusting for thinking about you like that, aren’t you just as dirty for wanting to hear it?”

“I think you’re drunk.”

He slides a hand up the inside of your thigh and holds his palm against your heat. “And I think you’re wet.”

A shiver runs down your spine and you grip his biceps for stability, a low whine leaving your lungs as he starts to press up into you. You need this—you need him. You need the way he needs you, and how he makes it feel like you’re not broken and alone, and how he loves you like you’re all that matters to him in this world.

“Goddamit, we can’t do this.” You wrench yourself away from him and take a few steps back, feeling the tears starting to burn in the corners of your eyes. “Not again. Not like this.”

“Fuck.” He sways where he stands, his mouth hanging open as he sees you start to fold in on yourself. It’s clear he wants to pull you to him, to hold you to his chest and cradle your head while you cry, but all it will do is compound the hurt he’s already caused. “I’m so sorry, kiddo.”

“Me too.”

Without another word between you, you walk up the stairs to your room and shut yourself inside, and start to pack, readying yourself for the drive home tomorrow.

Maybe you’d say goodbye this time.

—————

Sunday, 9:34 A.M.

The clang of pots and pans had startled you awake, the smell of coffee drifting in under the door. He was trying to lure you downstairs with breakfast, something he’d do when you were particularly quarrelsome or in the midst of some silent stand-off with your mother. But it wouldn’t be enough today, and you sat on the end of your bed, drafting an email to your boss that you’d need tomorrow off; you didn’t think that you could stand having to smile to strangers on the elevator and field well-intentioned questions about your weekend without wanting to scream. You send off your message, and stiffen at the sound of a knock on your door.

“Can I come in?” Shanks mutters from the other side.

You consider saying no, if only for a moment, of waiting until he leaves so you can gather your things and sneak down the stairs to your car unnoticed. But it hurts—it hurts to imagine leaving without a goodbye, without at least one last embrace to remind you that you would never fully be alone, so long as you had him.

“Sure, yeah, come in,” you mumble, tossing your phone behind you and sitting back on the heels of your palms.

He pushes the door open, leaning against it as he forces a smile. “No breakfast today?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You shouldn’t drive home on an empty stomach.” He hesitantly approaches you, resting his hand on your shoulder. “Come down and eat something with me. I can make something else if you don’t want French toast. Or at least have some coffee.”

You close your eyes at the welcome weight of his hand, and you lean your head against his arm, soft hairs bristling against your cheek. “Maybe.”

Shanks sits beside you on the end of the bed, his hand coming to rest next to yours, almost touching but not quite.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “For everything.”

“Me too.”

“Oh sweetheart, no—you don’t need to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He envelops you in a tight embrace, pulling you against him, cradling your head to his chest until you can hear his heart racing under you. “And you never, ever did.”

The tears come quickly, leaving blooming wet spots on his shirt, and you shiver as your arms wrap around his torso. He’s everything you crave, everything you know that you deserve—yet, he’s everything you know you can’t ever claim as yours. Still, you want him anyway, even if only for right now.

“Dad, I—I need you.”

“How?” He pulls you away from his chest, grasps your face with a hand on either side and meets your gaze, holding it. “How do you need me?”

A sob hitches in your throat as you shake your head slowly, and your voice cracks as you force the words out: “Like I shouldn’t.”

“Oh, honey, don’t cry.” He drops to his knees in front of you, pressing his fingers into your cheeks while he looks you over, as if to find the source of your pain. “If you need me—then I’ll make it all better, okay?”

You nod, swallowing back a hiccup. “Okay.”

“That’s my girl.” Shanks kisses you softly, reassuringly, before he stands and pushes you back on the bed, unbuttoning your jeans and sliding them down your legs. As you reach for the waistband of your underwear, he stops you.

“Not those,” he says, returning to his knees and placing a wide hand on each of your thighs, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Not yet.”

He kisses up your inner thighs, teeth grazing you with soft nips and bites, using his tongue to soothe each mark he leaves behind. He reaches the apex of your legs and stops to breathe you in, kissing and tonguing you through the thin fabric, nosing at your clit while his breath warms your swollen pussy lips, drawing a sigh from you. Every little noise you make only seems to urge him on, and soon he has your panties pulled to the side as he noisily sucks and licks you, his wide tongue lapping at your clit, devouring you in a way that says this is like second nature to him.

“F-fuck,” you stammer as you reach down and grasp a handful of his hair, tugging it at the roots. “So good.”

Shanks only smiles against your cunt in response and a river of saliva runs down your thighs. He slides two fingers in your drenched hole, crooking them upwards to stroke that spot inside you that makes electricity run through your limbs, and every moan of pleasure that escapes you elicits one of his own in response. Soon you can barely hear yourself, words muffled like you’re underwater, as you warn him how close you are, how you’re almost there, how bad you need it; your body starts to arch off the mattress, but he grips your hip with his free hand and holds you down as your stomach tenses and your thighs shake. You cry out for him with unabashed abandon as you’re suddenly overwhelmed with uncontrollable, shuddering spasms.

“That’s my good girl,” he rasps, pulling his fingers out of you and giving your slit one last long, slow lick. “Feel a little better?”

You manage to push yourself into a sitting position and almost whimper at seeing Shanks between your legs, his face flushed, his goatee glistening with your wetness; you lean down impulsively and kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips, greedily sucking at his bottom lip before pulling away. “Dad, I—”

“Tell me what you want,” he quickly interrupts, a look of sudden desperation on his face. “I’ll give you anything, anything at all, I promise.”

And you believed him. He loved you, more than anything in this world, and the way he looked at you, you knew he would gladly give you whatever you needed if it would make you feel complete.

“I… I want you inside me.”

“Yeah?” He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and strokes your cheek gently with the back of his hand. “You sure?”

You nod, knowing he must be able to see the desire etched into your features, the yearning that glimmers in your eyes. “I’m sure.”

“Okay.” He stands and kisses you on the forehead, and you see the thick outline of his cock pressing against his pajama pants. “Just wait here for a minute, I’ll be right back.”

Shanks doesn’t give you enough time to reconsider and comes back quickly, a condom and a bottle of lube in his hand. You want to tell him not to use protection—that you’re on the pill and you want him to cum in you, that you want to belong to him in all ways. But you hold your tongue and hope that perhaps there will be a next time, another day you can beg him to spill himself inside you and make you feel like his and his alone.

He pulls his shirt over his head, revealing the powerful, muscled body that you had secretly tried to catch a glimpse of more times than you would ever admit. Heat rises in his cheeks and he grins as he notices the shamelessness with which you ogle him as you scoot further back on the bed; he runs his hands over his broad, hairy chest, his fingers trailing down the softness of his stomach to the waistband of his pajamas. He slowly pulls them down over his hips, down his muscular thighs, and your eyes widen at the sight of his thick, half-hard cock.

“You like what you see, honey?” he teases as he climbs onto the bed with you and kneels between your legs, softly moaning as he strokes himself hard.

“Yeah, I do,” you murmur, watching him as he carefully tears away the foil of the condom wrapper and rolls it on. He drips lube onto his sheathed cock and rubs it along the length, as if to prove how much he loves you, how much he wants to make sure he doesn’t hurt you. Shanks moves between your parted legs and cages you in on one side, his hand pressed into the mattress, the other guiding himself to your entrance.

He sinks himself into you without hesitation—he knows what you want from him, and to ask you again if you’re sure, if this is what you really want, would only keep you apart for longer, and you’d already waited long enough for this moment. He holds himself there, pushed inside you as far as your body would accept him, feeling how you stretch to accommodate his girth. You wrap your arms around his neck and nod as if to urge him on, and he slowly starts to move his hips; your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of him filling you, over and over, as he delves deeper into you with each rhythmic push.

“Oh, sweetheart, you feel so good,” Shanks groans as he leans down to kiss your neck. “You’re taking me so well.”

He rocks against you gently, almost as if to comfort you more than to fuck you, to bring you whatever relief you need to take from him. A soothing warmth spreads through your thighs as he fucks into you with a measured, insistent rhythm, and you lift your hips upwards to meet each thrust.

“I wanna cum again,” you whimper as you feel yourself pulsing and tightening around him, balancing on the edge of another climax, “with you inside me.”

“Then cum on my cock, sweetheart,” he grunts, thrusting faster as you writhe beneath him. “I want to feel you.”

You reach one hand between your bodies and quickly press your fingers down on your aching clit, feeling an almost immediate tightness building within you.

“Fuck, dad, m’so close,” you whimper as you feel yourself tensing, almost as if you’re seeking his approval.

Shanks leans down and presses his lips to your ear: “Go on—cum for me, sweet girl.”

You reach your climax with a profound shudder, and cry out as you clench around him, reveling in how he fills you with every thrust as you spasm and shake under him.

“God, I’m almost there, sweetheart,” he groans as his hips snap against you faster now, your orgasm urging him quickly to his own. “Just hold tight to me, okay?”

He fucks you with an impatient need, as if it hurts not to take you, gasping and heaving as he pulls you tightly against his chest. You sob into him, moaning his name again and again as you thrash beneath him, lifting your hips to his thrusting body. Strands of his hair brush against your face as he kisses you, hard and urgent, his goatee scratching at your skin.

“That’s it,” he pants as his muscles tense and his hips move in an erratic rhythm. “Fuck—that’s it sweetheart—gonna cum for you.”

Shanks groans long and low into the crook of your neck and his body shudders, overcome with a jarring, pulsing climax as he convulses against you. His thrusts slow and he pulls in lungfuls of air between the soft kisses that he leaves along your neck and jaw. He pushes himself up on his hands and kisses your cheek. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” You don’t think you’ve been this okay in a very, very long time. “You?”

“Yeah.” He smiles at you, that smile that grounds you and reminds you that you’re his, and slowly starts to pull out of you. “I’m gonna go clean up, I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be right here.” You watch him as he walks into your bathroom and shuts the door behind him, and you already miss the way his cock feels, the way it made you feel whole, the way it felt like he fit perfectly in you, like you were meant to be fucked by him somehow.

He returns and joins you under the covers; you cling to him, running your fingers through his thick chest hair, some of it going grey, patches of it matted to his skin with his sweat and your tears. It’s the closest you’ve felt to something like normal, something like happy, in a long time. You want to stay here in this moment as long as you can, even though you know that it can’t last—it’s not something meant for you to have.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Shanks says quietly as his fingers brush your shoulder. “Maybe you could move back home.”

You chew on the side of your tongue for a moment while you force yourself to hesitate, to keep yourself from blurting out something you wouldn’t want to take back. “I mean, I can’t just break my lease.”

“Yes you can.” His hand clutches your shoulder tighter. “I’ll pay for it.”

“But it’s an hour drive to work.”

“I’ll buy you a better car.” His fingers sink into your skin deeper, almost bruising as he pulls you close. “Better yet, just find a job here. Not like you need to pay rent if you live at home.”

“I can’t,” you shake your head as you bury it against his chest, gripping a handful of hair between your fingers. You can—you could. But you shouldn’t. Not yet, not now.

“I know.” He sighs as his hold loosens, his thumb rubbing over the tender spots where he gripped you. “It’s just empty here without you.”

A soft wind shakes the tree outside your window, and a branch scrapes against the glass.

“I just…really need you, sweetheart.” His voice cracks as he speaks, the words quiet and pleading.

Your lip quivers and you choke down more tears as he says what you want to hear, what some part of you has always needed to hear. “I need you too.”

“Promise you’ll think about it? About coming back home?”

“I promise.”

And you knew you would. It would consume your thoughts, it would rule your waking hours, it would rouse you from fitful sleep every night—the notion of returning home to him, to the safety of his arms, and the whiskey-smooth sound of his voice, and the honeyed sweetness of his kisses would drive you to distraction until you gave up everything and stood on his doorstep, waiting for him to welcome you home.

Shanks pulls you closer, kisses your forehead, breathes out to breathe you in. “I love you, kiddo.”

“Love you too, dad.”

#I’m not good at waiting to post things till morning so here have this in the middle of the night #tw.stepcest #tw.incest #shanks x reader #tw.dark content #red-haired shanks x reader #akagami no shanks x reader #cw.incest #lo writes #cw.stepcest

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opbackgrounds · 2 months ago

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The Romanticism of One Piece VII: The Sea, and Conclusion

AO3 Part I Part VI

“Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off - then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can.” —Herman Melville

There is nothing more Romantic than to yearn for the sea. In his book Image of the Sea: Oceanic Consciousness in the Romantic Century, Howard Isham describes what he calls the “cosmic liquescence” that artists, writers, and musicians so often tapped into during the Romantic era. These were the last days of the sail, the world teetering on the edge between eras. To be alive during this time was to endure change, and the image of a ship being tossed about by the sea was a metaphor for those caught up in the spirit of the age.

Even more than our own, the world of One Piece is one of water. The ocean as metaphor has the benefit of being extremely broad, at times, paradoxically so. With a little bit of effort, the sea can represent basically whatever you want it to. In the real world, it can mean freedom for those who sail it, but with the proliferation of the Atlantic slave trade, Barbary pirates, and young men being press-ganged into service against their will it can just as easily be a symbol of oppression, terror, and slavery. Pirates were known to be somewhat democratic, but sailors stuck serving under cruel and unreasonable captains could be led to a watery death with no say in their fate. The ocean is life, sustaining countless people with its bounty and giving employment to sailors, fishermen, and any and everyone related to those trades. It is also death, cold, impersonal, and certain.

A ship might be stuck helplessly in the doldrums or ravaged by savage wind and waves. It is adventure and mystery, for no one knows what lies beyond the horizon or what lurks beneath the surface. It is the thing that separates us, but also the means by which we travel, enabling new connections and the exchange of trade, culture, and colonialism. Depending on their purpose for setting sail, ships of this era were one of the few places where people of vastly different national origins, languages, religions and cultures not only lived together in close proximity, but depended on one another for their livelihoods and survival. An excellent example of this in Romantic literature can be found in Moby Dick, where the American point of view character Ishmeal becomes fast friends with the Pacific Islander Queequeg while working on the international whaling crew.

The sea can be feminine, the primordial mother of us all. Aphrodite was born of sea foam; mermaids, sirens, and nereids roam the waters to tempt, seduce, help, or destroy unwitting sailors. Ships are almost always referred to as she. Via the tides, the ocean is connected with the moon, also traditionally feminine. But the sea is also be masculine. Characters such as Old Man of the Sea, Poseidon, Oceanus were all male, as were the winds all ships depended on.

During the time that the Romantics wrote, sea-side vacations were increasingly prescribed as a health cure while sailors themselves suffered from ailments such as scurvy, typhus, and dysentery. Several poets reminisced longingly about their youthful childhoods swimming care-free in the sea. But the ocean is unfathomably ancient and supremely haunted by the souls of countless lives lost beneath its waves.

In Moby Dick, the titular whale could represent God, the Devil, or Nature itself. To Tennyson, the breaking of the waves represented grief. The journey across the sea in Rime of the Ancient Mariner deals with life and redemption. To Wordsworth, the sea was immortal. To Byron it was freedom. Shelley writes of the West Wind stirring the sea—and thus the dreamer—awake from a deep summer slumber. To quote Keats, “Oh, ye! who have your eyeballs vexed and tired/Feast them upon the wideness of the Sea”.

I could go on, but let’s not belabor the point. In light of this vastness of metaphor, it is fair to say that in One Piece that the sea isn’t representative of one single thing. The New Era is brought in with Whitebeard’s crashing waves during the Marineford War. The terrible power of the Agua Laguna shows the force of Robin’s darkness breaking the Straw Hats apart, while the stormy skies of that time show the turbulence going on within the crew. Sailing brings people of different cultures, societies, and ideas together, and that forced interaction can break down prejudice and foster understanding between different species and cultures, as shown in both the Fishman Island and Skypiean flashbacks.

The Grand Line itself is portrayed as a cogwheel of fate, bringing the strong together in a clash of wills, and the limited navigational tools means that it is difficult, if not impossible to backtrack—you must live your life without regrets, and continue to move forward as you grow stronger as a person and crew. The sea represents the life of a pirate, often cruel, unfair, and dangerous but ultimately liberating. The promise of adventure exists somewhere beyond that unbroken horizon, a place of wonderland and dreams

The World Government may rule over a hundred and seventy allied nations, but no one owns the sea. Thus, as Luffy says at Sabaody, the Pirate King isn’t about conquering anything, but to become the freest man in the world.

I would also be remiss not to mention that the Sea Metaphor of One Piece is incomplete, and will be until the secrets of the Devil Fruit are finally revealed. It is curious that the force that’s presented as the epitome of freedom completely rejects Devil Fruit users, including the one representing liberation. Egghead also added the interesting element of the sea being an existential threat to the entire world, when the destructive power of the sea over land had been previously limited. It would be interesting to revisit this topic after the series has ended to see how Oda resolves these seemingly competing ideas.

But if there is one metaphor I think rules above all else, it is the sea as home, specifically home for the outcast. Robin says during her flashback, even before the Buster Call comes, that she’s studying to become an archeologist in order to go out to sea with her mother. Her home life on Ohara is one of ostracization. Even the archeologists, who love her dearly, don’t let her in on their deepest, darkest secrets. This is for her own safety, but to an eight year old girl who’s been rejected by everyone else on her home island, even her own family, it’s enough for her to seek solace in the promise of the sea. Then, during the Buster Call, Saul promises her that in the vastness of the sea she will find friends, and she will find family, that no one is born to be alone. It’s a sentiment Reiju echoes to Sanji during the Whole Cake Island flashback.

The sea is an escape. Most of the Straw Hats in one way or another have complicated relationships with their places of origin, and for many returning would be difficult if not impossible. Even a character like Nami, who is universally beloved by her hometown, spent eight years thinking that the people of Cocoyashi Village hated her, making her relationship with them relatively fraught while she was a member of Arlong’s crew. During that time the sea, and the treasure she found therein, was her only hope of freedom. The only Straw Hat who ends up staying behind has strong ties anchoring her to someplace other than the Going Merry. It’s not until hundreds of chapters and many real-world years later that an even greater force usurps Vivi from her homeland.

Similarly, fights with the marines and other enemies often end once the Straw Hats hit the open water. The society that tries to squeeze the citizens of the world into a specific shape loses its power over the boundless ocean. This is, of course, a double-edged sword. Water 7, the bandits of chapter 1, and Garp’s blackmail of Dadan show that it also deprives outlaws like Luffy the benefit of society’s protection. But those who refuse to conform to the whims and pressures of the world gain from fleeing to the sea, and what is to dream if not to refuse to conform in one way or another? Every single one of the Straw Hats want something that conventional wisdom says is impossible, but they search anyway, and in doing so find like-minded friends with which to band together. And like how a cord of rope is stronger than its individual fibers, together this found-family has the ability to challenge society and win, finding their own freedom in the process.

The reason I hone in on the Sea as Home metaphor so strongly over the more general Sea as Freedom metaphor is developed during Luffy’s post-Marineford flashback. It’s here while he’s forcibly befriending Ace that Luffy reveals to him that being alone is the worst pain in the world, worse than being punched all day by a grown man in spiked boxing gloves. It’s after this that he, Ace, and Sabo discuss the freedom of the seas and piracy, and the moment they become brothers. It is this desire for connection, the longing for the outcast to find their place with other outcasts, that drives Luffy to the sea in the first place. It’s there he finds his people, and while he’s not able to navigate, or cook, or do anything remotely useful on a sailing vessel, he’s able to protect the people flying under his flag. It’s a symbiotic relationship between captain and crew, a complete and total interdependence that is required when sailing the treacherous waters of the Grand Line.

During the Davy Back Fight, Luffy makes a prophetic statement when fighting Foxy that he’s willing to fight to the death for his friends. It’s an idea echoed during his fight with Bleuno on Enies Lobby, when the latter wonders how long Luffy will keep fighting against the combined might of the World Government. It’s the reason why the death of the Merry, the fight against Usopp, and Robin’s supposed betrayal is so devastating both for the reader and the Straw Hat Pirates. The found family that had developed over the course of the manga has ruptured, and they lost the ship with which they’ve called home.

The Water 7 Saga ends with a reconciliation between brothers and their home built anew, this time stronger and more able to weather the stormy waters that wait ahead, the peaceful lamb exchanged for a fearsome lion with a mane as bright as the sun. Nothing has challenged the internal fortitude of the Straw Hat Pirates quite like that saga and nothing ever will again, because both their home and family has been forged into something unbreakable, allowing them to sail the sea, and pursue their freedom, any way they wish.

Conclusion and Final Thoughts

”Then stirs the feeling infinite, so felt in solitude, where we are least alone”—Lord Byron

I want to end on this point, because despite all the similarities between the Romantic movement and One Piece, in this we see one great difference. For all that the characters in Moby Dick are forced to depend on one another and the good judgement of their captain to survive, the book ends with everyone except Ishmael dead. Romantic poetry calls for solitary contemplation, and the landscapes of this era diminish the individual in favor of the wide, open spaces of nature. The zeitgeist of the age celebrated the misunderstood, melancholic genius. If One Piece were written during this time, Luffy would never have been the main protagonist. The rise of the Byronic hero would have made sure that honor went to a darker, more brooding character like Law or Ace.

In 1770, a boy of 17 named Thomas Chatterton committed suicide in his small garret apartment. Having grown up fatherless and in poverty, this young genius of a poet was unable to scratch out a living with his writing, and after battling both depression and the pressure of changing his profession, he instead chose to end his own life.

The death of Chatterton sparked a cult following. His life and death would be commemorated in art, plays, and operas, with poets like Wordsworth, Coleridge, Shelly, and Keats all dedicating works to his name. His influence can still be felt today in the trope of the suffering arts that he and countless others helped codify.

One Piece is the story of a boy who rejects the confines of society in search of his own freedom, but he does not do so alone. Luffy is driven as much by the desire to be with his friends as he is by his desire to find the One Piece. The series agrees that risking death is an acceptable part of chasing one's dream, but rejects the notion that it should be sought out or celebrated. In One Piece, it’s better to live an undignified life in the hope of a better tomorrow than to give into an easy death.

It is ironic that for all that the Romantics emphasized the self, many were friends with one another, Wordsworth and Colridge collaborated in writing Lyrical Ballads. Mary and Percy Shelly were married, and Mary Shelly famously wrote Frankenstein while on a retreat with Lord Byron. The German Romantic movement kickstarted with a group of men who wrote and studied together at the University if Jena, with similar groups later popping up in Berlin and Heidelberg. The American Transcendentalists even formed a club, with Thoreau only able to conduct his two year stint in the woods because the property was owned by Ralph Waldo Emerson, while his mother did his laundry.

One Piece recognizes that genius is not a solitary venture. Those seeking their freedom cannot and should not do so alone. Existence isn’t a crime, the sea is vast, and your people are out there somewhere.

There are of course other differences. One Piece is written in a post-nuclear, modern world. Among other things, the mysterious, idealized past of the Void Century is not one of primitive nature but hyper-advanced technology, and the progress of man is something to be embraced rather than rejected.

Yet the biggest difference I keep circling back to is One Piece's unabashed celebration of life. At the end of the day, it’s a story meant to make people laugh. Oda is unafraid of plunging into the depths of despair and tragedy, but he doesn't linger there before pulling the reader back into joy.

LP Hartley once wrote that, “The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there”. One Piece can never be mistaken as a story of the historical Romantic movement. There’s just too much difference between the world of today and the one where these works came. But I hope that I've shown how it carries some of that legacy into the present day. Intentionally or not, Oda has taken an old idea and used it as a guardrail for the entire series. Like the sun, guiding the dawn of a new era. The dawn of Romance, if you will.

A Romance Dawn.

#opbackgrounds #one piece #the romanticism of one piece #romanticism #it is finished

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organisedbirds · 2 months ago

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One of the things that I never stop thinking about is the lack of any “happy” endings in Black Sails (putting aside Schrodinger’s Flint and Silver’s role in that. It’s been done). Madi is the most obvious one to me: time and time again she demonstrates how willing she is to sacrifice everything for the cause and the war including her own life - a decision that is taken from her by Silver’s actions instead replaced of the treaty which she explicitly rejects multiple times and is in complete opposition to what she’s tried to achieve. She’s also entirely alone in her opposition to the treaty, putting her in a position where she either becomes Silver’s wife in Treasure Island, leaving her entire life behind to run an inn or (if you make Max Silver’s wife in TI) being the sole person still trying to achieve the same goal that previously had money and ships and fighters backing it.

Anne and Jack are slightly less obvious. Jack’s obsession with being remembered and having an important legacy is brought crashing back to reality in the Gurthrie’s parlour with the realisation that people are far more interested in lies that paint his friends as monsters than any resemblance of the truth - Flint’s vision of the future coming true before he even speaks it. The flag that everyone associates with piracy - his main legacy - is “fine” and the future of piracy in Nassau essentially has to remain a secret (when I can only imagine he wants to yell from the rooftops that he fucking won). Anne!! The amount of times she expresses the desire to leave piracy behind with Jack and have something away from that life and the amount of times Jack promises her that once he accepts the pardon so he can keep his name and then once they defeat the governor, then that’s it. And instead - they carry on. Because if Jack does of course she will follow! And because Black Sails is a show that follows the vague contours of history, pretty soon Jack is hung, Mary has died and Anne is imprisoned for thirteen years (depending on how you view the historical debate around her fate, that’s just my personal view).

And of course, this leaves Max (with her ending being the best on the surface) with the people closer to her having disappeared. Her existence is still very much built on sand and looking to history England returns to Nassau, and all she’s built will be gone. Ultimately, Vane is right, the empire survives on the idea of trading submission for comfort - but even that isn’t true! That traded comfort doesn't last for a meaningful amount of time and she's back to the same place she started.

#well i did the thing!#i'm sure i'll add things honestly but i have too many thoughts and not enough processing power in my brain #black sails #endings tag #madi bs #max bs #anne bonny #jack rackham #bs meta #black sails meta

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daceydeath · 3 months ago

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Crashing Waves (Part 1)

Pairing: Pirate San x Reader Word Count: 5k Genre: Fantasy AU, Slow Burn Romance Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Swearing, Alcohol

I thought that I knew love. But it was just the waves crashing over us ~ Waves by The Dear Hunter

You sat quietly on the dock watching the last of the dusk's light sink beneath the horizon, you often came to the ocean at night. You never really understood the sway it had over you but it gave you a sense of calm and peace to listen to it to watch the waves rise and fall the soft whispers it gave to you each time you were near it. Although you had been warned a hundred different times by your father and friends to stay away from the docks it was the only place you could go tonight, the king tide making it far too difficult to get to the small rocky cove you often visited.

Come home child, come home to me.

The sailors and merchants all ignored you, having slipped out of your corset and hiding your hair beneath a hat you didn’t look like a lady of the night and there was no way you looked wealthy enough to bother so most, probably, assumed you were an urchin scrounging for anything you could to get by. There had been chaos within the town that day swelling and frothing like the seas during a storm which had left the streets empty and most of the ships with their gangways stowed to prevent anyone untoward coming aboard. Only one colossal ship that sat docked on the furthest berth away from the other vessels but again you didn’t really care you just made your way past it and sat with your feet dangling above the water your pants hiked up to your knees to prevent them getting wet.

Earlier you had been sitting in the tavern listening to your friends prattle on about pirates stealing women away to sell to foreign lands or taking them as prizes to spend the rest of their lives at sea but you were yet to hear a single shred of actual evidence of this. Pirates, mercenaries and soldiers were often the same thing; it just depended on who was paying them. If they worked for themselves they were pirates, if they could be bought they were mercenaries and if they could become loyal they were soldiers. The line between was pretty damn thin in your mind. Each drink had made you more uninterested in their stories and increased the longing you felt to be alone so while they continued to dance and drink you slipped away to find solitude beside the waves of the highest tide this year.

“What are you doing here?” a stern voice asked from behind you making you jump slightly then frown deeply in disappointment.

“I’m watching the waves” you replied honestly annoyance clear in your voice, not even looking back at the man who had interrupted your peace.

“Sounds like a ruse to spy on us” he muttered bitterly, his footfalls getting closer to you, his boots clunking against each of the old boards that had been worn smooth with time and salt as he moved.

“I don’t know or care who you are sir, please just leave me alone” you continued, turning your body to sit against one of the large dock posts so you could see both him and the ocean. His face was still half in shadow but you could tell he was someone important. The gold chain that hung across his chest and the glittering rings on his fingers showed wealth but the sword on his belt warned of potential danger.

“Then why are you so close to my ship?” he demanded coldly, his scrutiny obvious as the waves began picking up and started to bob his ship slightly in its mooring, the breeze fluttering the sails on the boats docked.

“Because your ship is docked where I sit, you decided that not me” already being tired from a long day and probably one too many drinks. You had little emotional strength left to even pretend you care if he was offended or angry. His presence was irritating you when he could have just ignored you. He remained silent studying you as you turned back to the sea watching the waves even out once more.

“You're not curious who I am? Not afraid of me either?” he queried, seeming perplexed about his whole encounter with you, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword although you still didn’t flinch.

“No, I’m not” you admitted quietly, closing your eyes and leaning your head back against the old wooden post. After a few more minutes of nothingness he left presumably to his ship which loomed between you and the shore blocking the view of the town you lived in. Once the darkness finally fell you stood and wandered back towards your family’s home fully aware that a different man was following you, his feet moving almost silently as he remained shrouded in shadow everytime you passed by a street lamp that bathed the ground with an eerie amber gold light.

“I know you are there” you breathed stepping into a dim alleyway beside the apothecary. You heard the steps pause and then a quiet sigh as he stepped into the dim light only a few feet from you “Did your friend ask you to follow me?”.

“He didn’t understand why you didn’t care about the danger you were in, or whether you did and you really are a spy” he replied in his musical voice the only thing you could discern since he was covered head to toe in black, his raised hood covering most of his face.

“He’s either paranoid or he thinks that your reputation precedes you so much that a small town woman knows who you are” you challenged leaning against the dirty bricks as you accepted that perhaps you should have listened to just about everyone and not visited the docks.

“Did you not see the logo on our ship? Do you not know what it means?” He asked a touch softer as if he suddenly noticed how you were dressed and how you looked he stepped forward and you realized how tall he was, although his lithe frame made him seem young.

“I saw it but I don’t know it” you admitted tilting your head “my family work on land we don’t know anything about pirates”.

“How do you know we are pirates then?” he asked but you could hear the smile that was likely gracing his face.

“Big ship, paranoid captain who wears expensive looking jewels, tall assassin looking man who follows his orders. Do I need to keep listing things off?” you smiled right back daring him to deny any of the things you mentioned.

“Alright you are clever I’ll give you that. Why do you spend time at the docks if you work in the town?” He pressed lowering his hood to allow you to see him. Even in the low light you couldn’t help the way your eyes widened. He was beautiful, longish dark hair framed his sharp featured face like a gilded frame making it almost impossible to look away from.

“The ocean has always called to me, I sit beside it every night it calms me especially when I have a little too much to drink” you whispered, still staring at him unashamedly you could see the cogs turning in his head deciding how he would proceed with you.

“I’m Seonghwa” he bowed his head respectfully, seeming pleased that you were so openly staring at him.

“Well Seonghwa nice to meet you” you offered your hand for him to shake noticing the grace with which he moved.

“Come by the ship tomorrow before noon I want to show you something” his eyes twinkled as he smirked at you before turning away and disappearing from sight. Still dazed from meeting Seonghwa, you continued home knowing that he was no longer following you.

“Why would I want to do that?” you mused thinking that he was already gone disappeating into the inky darkness.

“Because now you’re curious” he laughed softly his voice fainter than before.

“Fucking cloak and dagger bullshit” you muttered stepping back out of the allyway and into the street to continue towards home.

“So was she spying?” Wooyoung nonchalantly asked his feet up on one of the chairs in the galley.

“Nope she’s just a normal girl” Seonghwa chuckled watching Hongjoong frown deeply “Had one drink too many and needed some air”.

“She can’t be just a ‘normal girl” Hwa, when I spoke to her she got annoyed and the waves started when I left her alone and she calmed down. The waves stopped, that isn’t normal” Hongjoong insisted irritation in his tone.

“True but either way she wasn’t spying” Hwa smiled crookedly before moving towards the doorway “Oh I invited her to the ship tomorrow so you could always ask her yourself”.

“Who’s coming tomorrow?” San piped up entering the galley from the other end plopping himself down beside Wooyoung to begin eating.

“Mystery girl” Wooyoung cackled, watching as Hongjoong’s frown intensified, staring at the place the Seonghwa had just been filling.

“I don’t get what’s so special about her” Mingi mumbled from the spot he had been sitting in watching the discussion before him.

“Hongjoong thinks she's one of those sea imps but she can’t be, she lives on land” Yeosang whispered back in between mouthfuls of dinner.

“Dipshits” Hongjoong rolled his eyes stabbing at his food viciously.

“Were you at the docks?” your roommate Mara narrowed her eyes at you looking you over for filth or injury.

“No, I went to the cliffs above the cove. The tide was too high tonight to get down to the rocks” you lied shamelessly ripping the bread she had saved for you into pieces before popping it in your mouth.

“Well you still smell like salt” you nodded slowly going back to the book she had been reading her eyes skimming the rest of the page in silence.

“I have smelt of worse things. I heard there were pirates that docked today” you started your words half garbled by the bread filling your mouth “The whole tavern was talking about them”.

“That’s why I told you to stay away from the docks” Mara sighed defeated before looking over at you unimpressed. “You never pay attention to anything do you? There was a notice put up just about everywhere that there were pirates seen just past the headland and they were probably headed here and you didn’t even see them did you?”.

“Sorry Mara” you bowed your head unwittingly, annoying her by just being yourself again, you couldn’t help that you didn’t pay attention to every stupid thing that happened in town.

“Finish your bread and go to sleep” she grumbled putting down her book and turning out the lamps.

When you woke up, Mara was already gone, probably having left for the market for work. It gave you a chance to clean up and change before venturing to the docks to see if Seonghwa had meant what he had said about showing you something. Donning a simple pair of dark jeans and a green tunic you slipped from the house unnoticed, taking only an apple, some bread and some biscuits to last you until you could return home again. You wanted to take your bicycle to make the trip quicker but you knew that would lead to you being recognized and you didn’t want to be stopped. You were too curious about this thing that the beautiful Seonghwa wanted to show you even if you were unsure you could trust him.

It was close to noon by the time you slipped yourself through the docks and approached the ship, the ostentatious decorations on the hull making it much more noticeable in the daylight, the solid brass and copper engines that sat just above water level were something you had never seen before and the gigantic red A that was stitched into each sail and painted on the hull gave little doubt of the owners intentions. Walking up the gangway you stopped one step before you would be considered onboard the ship waiting until one of the men on the deck noticed you.

“Uh who are you?” a pretty man who looked far too etherial to be a pirate asked you his broom halting mid sweep when he saw you.

“Where did you even come from?” a broad man with a striking face asked moving to step in front of his shipmate waiting to see what you would say his hand hovering near his waist.

“Seonghwa asked me to come” you smiled nervously looking at him. He looked like he could intimidate anyone he chose to but there was something in his actions that made you feel safe instead of fear.

“Ah you came!, welcome to my home, well our home” Seonghwa’s sothing honey laughter made itself known before he gracefully stepped into view.

“Hello again Seonghwa” you bowed your head but didn’t move. You knew you had to be expressly invited in before you assumed anything with pirates; it was only polite.

“Come I will give you the tour” he beckoned you onto the boat which you gingerly stepped onto the once moving vessel now standing completely still which made the two crew members look at each other subtly, something crossing between them that you didn’t understand.

“Lead the way then” you stepped towards him as he moved back through the darkened doorway into the belly on the ship.

“They were Yeosang and San. The others we will probably find along the way” he hummed showing you the galley, the armory and the crew quarters finally walking you past the cannons on your way towards what you could only assume was the captain's quarters.

“So should I assume that what you wanted to show me is probably the captain” you mused looking at a cannon with interest. The gleam of the silver barrels showing that they had seen little action.

“Yes and no” Seonghwa conceded with a sly smile tugging on his lips.

“Shall we get this over with I’m getting hungry and I left my lunch on the dock” you sigh knowing that although it is unlikely a trap you will probably have to talk to the annoying man again.

“Captain” Seonghwa knocked sharply on the door to the quarters waiting for a sign to enter.

“Come” a loud voice called letting you know that it probably was the same man from the night before.

“This is the one I was talking about” Seonghwa announced, swinging open the door and carefully pushing you through the opening, stepping in behind you and almost blocking your exit. Despite the large windows the room remained dim, large heavy curtains blocking out most of the light that was trying to illuminate the room. Three men occupied the space, a tall man who looked you over with slight confusion, a serious looking man with floppy dark hair and a smaller man who you recognized as being the jerk from the dock the night before. He sat at the desk, his hands holding a large looking glass and a necklace which he had been by the looks of it appraising, because pirates you guessed.

“Hwa said you aren’t a spy” he started placing the necklace down on the dark wooden table.

“I told you that already” you interrupted tilting your head and narrowing your eyes at him. “Last night when you interrupted me”.

“He also tells me you are brazen, stubborn and headstrong but that the sea calls to you” he continued unfazed by your words.

“Well he must be quite the spy himself if he gleaned all that from one conversation and followed me most of the way home” you conceded, shrugging indifferently as you looked around the room. A large bed sat against the windows, its canopy made up of more dark heavy fabric that probably helped to muffle the sound of the waves at night, papers and books littered all the other flat surfaces and large paintings of sea creatures covered the walls. One painting on the wall lit up with its own lamp caught your attention, not just for the overly ornate gilt frame but because it was something you were sure you had seen before perhaps in a dream or in a book. It was of a woman, her face hidden in her reddish hair in a simple white gown that had been painted as though she was simply suspended underwater.

“He should have said infuriating” the captain clapped back bringing your attention to him once more.

“You haven’t even introduced yourself why would I owe you anything more than what I am giving you, Seonghwa at least has manners” you mutter looking up at the large ornate ceiling that is decorated with vivid images of sea monsters. A kraken looming ominously above the desk.

“I’m Captain Hongjoong, this is my navigator navigator Jongho and my medic Yunho” he nodded to the two men in turn “I apologize for my poor manners would you grant me the grace to start the conversation again” his voice was resigned but held an air of annoyance.

"Do you like my ship?" he asked, tilting his head as he scrutinized you for the second time in 24 hours.

"She's very impressive, but I still do understand why I'm here Captain Hongjoong" you tilted your head in return not letting your eyes drop from his.

"Seonghwa says you are called to be the sea, is that true?" he continued narrowing his eyes slightly, the others who you had seen and a couple who you hadn't had managed to all make their way into the room sitting or leaning in various places but all looking at you. You stood silently mirroring his posture unconsciously as you weighed up your answer.

"Has this got anything to do with that?" you pointed your thumb in the direction of one of the paintings hung on the wall with scraps of paper pinned around it. "Because I find peace by the ocean but I am no sea nymph".

Hongjoong glared at the painting on the wall, not answering you immediately. The silence strained and became more intense as the seconds passed by. His crew looked almost nervous as they looked between each other and then back to their captain.

"But yes the sea calls to me" you added quietly, making Hongjoong's eyes widen as they snapped back to your face, the frustration in his expression melting away to reveal a look of awe.

"What does it say?" he breathed almost inaudibly.

"Home" you murmured, feeling Seonghwa's hand find your back as you swayed slightly, the ship beginning to rock beneath your feet.

"We will not hurt you" Hongjoong instantly stood his chair scraping noisily against the wooden floor "No one on this ship would ever cause you harm you have my word I know it must be telling you otherwise".

Danger child, he is a danger

"Why would you ever harm me? I'm no one, not even worth a ransom" you looked up again meeting his eyes, your head suddenly swimming like you had been drinking absinthe again. The words circling your brain continuously. "How do you know what she says?".

"Hwa" Hongjoong yelled but you had closed your eyes, or maybe the lights had gone out but either way you felt something hard and warm crash into your front before your face hit the floor. The room was not only spinning but raising and falling the sensation making your queasy.

"Thanks San" Seonghwa's faint voice echoed in your head before you could no longer hear.

"The fuck just happened? Is she dead?" Mingi blurted, looking bewildered as San scooped you into his arms and moved you towards the captain's bed as carefully as he could as the ship rocked violently.

"Does she need a doctor or do you think you can manage?" San whispered to Yunho who was already checking your pulse in your wrist.

"She's breathing and her heart rate is normal, if she doesn't wake up in an hour maybe" Yunho hummed, placing the back of his hand on your forehead "Can someone bring me some water?". Jongho dashed from the room as quickly as he could trying not to trip on anything that had fallen from the captain's desk as the sound of books falling to the floor thudded behind him.

"I can't be the only one confused about her knowledge of the painting though right? You said that it was a one off original, that it was incredibly unknown which is why it had to be stolen" Wooyoung sounding more hysterical than he probably wanted to. "How would she know about it! and why is it so fucking rough right now?".

"She could be mistaken but she knew it was about sea nymphs" Yeonsang added, squeezing Wooyoung's shoulder to keep him calm while pressing themselves against the wall so they had something to hold onto while the turbulent movements of the ship unsteadied them.

"The diary said it had been hidden for more than 150 years, that no one had laid eyes on it in almost 100 of those years. She looks like she's not even 25". Seonghwa furrowed his eyebrows confused by the whole thing, the swinging overhead lamp throwing bazaar flashes of light over them all.

"She's going to wake up in a second stop being so loud" Hongjoong grunted holding the edge of his desk knowing that the rest of the ship would probably be a complete mess from the short burst of waves.

"There you are" San smiled softly, his eyes creasing up as your eyes fluttered open.

"You had us worried for a second there" Yunho joked, his voice soft as he placed a wet cloth against your forehead Jongho still holding the bowl of water so it wouldn't spill everywhere.

"I'm sorry?" you mumbled your voice sounding far away even to your own ears.

Safe keep you safe

"You fainted" Yunho smiled, his voice still soft as he continued pressing the cloth against your skin he watched your breathing for a moment before dipping the cloth back in the water "Can you sit up or would you rather roll on your side? I need to put this on the back of your neck".

"Are you a doctor?" you blinked slowly trying to lift yourself from the soft thing you were laying on "Did I hurt anything when I fell?".

"San caught you so no you have no injuries" Yunho nodded to San who took hold of each of your wrists slowly pulling you into a sitting position while Yunho placed the cloth on your neck.

"Thank you San" you murmured weakly, noticing a pink flush dust his cheekbones.

"What happened? Did you hear anything before you fainted?" Hongjoong asked from his desk where he remained leaning against the shiny dark wood. You continued blinking slowly, registering that you were lying on his bed in the same room as they were all in with you moments ago.

"That's none of your business" you swallowed shakily, turning to look back at San who looked openly worried at the way your arms trembled in his hands. "I would like to go home now".

"Not until we know you won't faint the moment you stand up" Yunho soothed wetting the cloth again "can you hold this against your chest please? I can close the curtain so no one can see you".

"Please" you whimpered watching San lean across to pull on the fabric for Yunho.

"Do you want me to leave?" San whispered his voice was soft watching you fumble with the lacing at the top of your tunic.

"No it's alright" you half smiled, feeling your face heat up as Yunho moved your hands away, his long fingers deftly untying the knot and loosening them enough to slip the cloth under without exposing you.

"I need to get off this ship" you mumbled meekly looking up at Yunho then to San tears beginning to prick at your eyes.

"I will carry you off myself if I have to" San continued whispering to make sure only you heard him. "But you need to feel less overheated and look less pale first".

"Woo, can you get me some candy? Sweets might help her feel better" Yunho called through the thick dark burgundy fabric causing shuffling and noise to erupt on the other side after another few minutes of silence a hand thrust through the fabric holding a bag of what looked like marshmallows.

"Eat a few please, the sugar should help" Yunho hummed.

"Thank you mystery candy baring hand" you called hearing a loud bark of laughter follow your words. After half a dozen marshmallows Yunho placed his hand back against your forehead nodding to San who pulled open the curtains for you.

"Try standing slowly" Yunho instructed, standing in front of you as San remained behind you. Your legs felt a little shaky but nothing too bad as you placed your weight on them bouncing on your toes softly. "Good I think you will be alright now".

"Thank you for your help Yunho" you smiled, relieved that you would be able to get as far away from their captain as you could.

"I'll take you back up to the deck if you want" San looked hopeful as you turned your head to look at him.

Safe be safe

"Please San" you murmured ignoring the others as questions started being thrown in your direction.

"Will you come again?" Seonghwa's honey voice poured into your ear.

"I don't know" you looked at him keeping your voice as level as you could "I was nice to meet you all".

San led you towards the deck with Yunho following you both just to be safe as you slowly descended the gangway you felt a surge of relief come over you like water pouring from a bucket over your head. Picking up your pack which you had stowed behind some creates you fished out your apple biting into it before looking back up at the ship. San and Yunho were still there although now the others had joined them looking almost ominous as their silhouettes stood tall against the light behind them. Nodding once you walked back along the dock the salty air blowing your messy hair around you.

"Well that went shockingly bad" Seonghwa sighed leaning against the railing as they watched you disappear between the other ships.

"Oh yeah the only thing that would have been worse was if we kidnapped her" Mingi rolled his eyes.

"She will never set foot here again" Jongho laughed, nudging San who looked slightly confused.

"I've never seen you that soft before what happened?" Wooyoung quizzed rounding on San who just shrugged before leaving to return to his cabin knowing damn well it would be a mess from earlier.

"You had to see that the waves came and went depending on her though right?" Hongjoong insisted.

"Yeah but I don't think it will be easy to convince her to come with us. She seems desperate to be away from us, well some of us" Seonghwa conceded watching San's retreating figure.

"Well we will just have to convince her then" Wooyoung bounced cheekily smirking at them before scampering away after San.

You decided on the walk back you would stop into the apocathary to see if Salvia had anything that could quell the unease that you were still feeling. The bell rang loudly as you stepped inside the calming scent of dried herbs and lavendar filling your lungs as you walked towards the counter.

“Via?” you called stepping around the counter and towards the back room. “It’s me”.

“Little possum what are you doing here? You aren’t working today” Salvia blinked looking at you through the steam of the large pot she was boiling.

“I know, I’m just feeling really weird so I wanted something to make it go away” you continued peering into the large brass pot to find an interesting combination of plants and muslin bags tied with string.

“Hair tonic” Via explained as she stepped towards you her hand outstretched to feel your face “What are your symptoms?”.

“I feel nervous, queasy, and hot” you listed as she scrutinised you “Oh and my legs have been shaking like I’ve been running for hours.

“Hmmmm” Salvia hummed looking puzzled for a moment before going over to one of her store cupboards and pulling out a box marked with large red letters. “Take two bags in a cup of tea now, then before bed. It’s probably your moon time that’s causing it”.

“But I’m not having that right now” you swallowed as she bustled to the stove to lace the kettle on the heat and get you a mug.

“No but it will probably start soon and this is common before it in a lot of women” she smiled softly picking up the teabags and placing two in a bag for you and two in the waiting mug.

“You are a life saver Via” you smiled crookedly “You should put that on the sign Salvia the Savior”.

“That might get us more customers” he nodded sagely before pouting the water from the now whistling kettle into you cup to let it seep.

“So what’s with the pirates at the dock?” you asked as casually as you could “That ship is gigantic”.

“I would steer clear of the docks for the time being” Salvia warned seriously “That crew is infamous for their cruelty and violence”.

“Hold on why would pirates like that be in our town?” you frowned “what could they want with anyone here?”.

“Could be just suppliess, could be looking for a place it hide. It’s not important. They are murderers for hire who have no humanity” Salvia almost spat as she glared at the brewing tonic.

“It’s alright Via, I’m not planning to run away with the pirates I just didn’t even know they were there until I saw the massiv ship” you blurted quickly hoping that she would calm back down and let you finish your tea without a full lecture.

“I know you’re a good girl” Salvia conceeded smiling at you in a very motherly fashion “now take your tea and I’ll see you tomorrow”.

a/n: Thank you for reading my lovelies. I have recently struggled to find any motivation to write and it has been hard but hopefully after Christmas and a proper rest period I will be back to my normal self. As always your likes, reblogs, comments and encouragement mean so much to me xx

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz @armystay89 @damnyouficc @roamingpolar

@tara-skyhold @bakedlilgoonie @krishastumblernow @mrsseals16 @fawnpeaks

@leeknowinggg @tanzen-ist-gold @uno7 @ocean-dreamer-sky-chaser @skersey33

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ltwilliammowett · 1 month ago

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What do the second, third, and fourth officers do on the ship?

Hi, I need to expand a little on this. The first lieutenant is the officer next in rank and power to the captain, in whose absence he is accordingly charged with the command of the ship; also with the execution of all orders received from the commander as to the service.

The lieutenant in command of the watch at sea shall keep a list of all the officers and men belonging to it, to assemble them when he deems it expedient, and to report to the master the names of those who are absent from their duty. During the night watch he shall occasionally visit the lower decks, or send one of his subordinate lieutenants thither, to ascertain that the proper captains are on duty, and that there is no disorder among the men; that no tobacco is being smoked between decks, and that no fire or candles are burning there, except the lights which are in the lanthorns, which are under the superintendence of a proper watch for special purposes. These lieutenants (depending on how many are on board) are expected to remain on deck at all times during their watch to give the necessary orders to trim the sails and monitor navigation, but also to avoid noise and confusion.

In battle, the lieutenant must take particular care to ensure that all the men are present in their quarters, where they have previously been assigned in accordance with the captain's instructions. He shall order and admonish them everywhere to do their duty, and shall at all other times inform the master of the misbehaviour of persons on the ship and of anything affecting service or discipline. This means that each lieutenant has a division, a group of men under him, which he commands and looks after for their welfare. He passes these orders on to the midshipmen and NCOs under his command.

The whole system serves to improve efficiency and smooth operations on board and ensures a rapid chain of command.

I hope it helps you and sorry for taking so long to answer, I'm slowly working my way through the questions. As far as i am able to do it.

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writingoddess1125 · 1 year ago

Text

My Heart Breaks Pt. 2

Warning: Angst then Fluff

Buggy X FemReader

Support me on Ko-Fi

Part 1

Replaced the Photo! Cause this was too perfect! Art belongs to Vamos_MK on twitter!!

You stared up at the blue sky with a tired sigh, finally you were free.. Over two fucking decades it had taken to escape and you did it God damn it!

For the last 20 years you had been imprisoned in the Impel Down- It had been awful yo say the least.. constantly you were trying to protect yourself and saw that the man who had sent you here had been extra cruel in doing so- well not you but the women who you took her place..

You still felt guilt in knowing she had died in your place.. but you couldnt help but be greatful she had wanted to die due to her cause in an accidental death. You hoped in her afterlife she was happy..

However death was definitely kinder then the prison- with monsters at every turn and trying to keep sex deprived prisoners from trying to have their way with you it had been a battle. You had scratched, fought and squeezed your way out of that hellhole.

After a changing of guards you had managed to slip out- unlike most of the prisoners in the Impel Down you had the enate abilies to swim so you did. Stealing a dingy that a negligent marine most likely left behind you made it out. Paddling like your life depended on it sway from that place, however you were in no position to cry in relief yet.

It was another 2 days of paddling before you manages to get to an island. Starving and dehydrated you snuck to the back end of the tiny island so no one saw your prison uniform. Stealing some berries and a pair of clothes from a small cottage you made it through the village, it was clear this place was poor- you blended in with the people who were just as hungry as you and with less berries then you had nabbed.

You went into a pub getting what you could afford, which was bread and cheese and a ale. You took these and stood outside to eat your meal which tasted no better then ash in your mouth.

Looking around you saw two better dressed men walk out of the pub, batting a poor boy on the back and laughing. Congratulating him for joining their merchant ship- catching your ear you finished your meal and drink quickly, following the men. Seeing a large ship with a line of young men wanting to join the ship for a better life and opportunity, so you join them.

Once you reached to the top of the ship, a old man held out a cane to your chest to keep you from moving forward.

"What do you want lady?-" The old Captian sneered at you, Glaring down at your dirty form.

"You're looking for sailors correct?" You say sharply, Taking a steady breath to still your nerves.

"What can a thing like you do on a ship? Do you even have sailing experience?" The Captian laughed in your face. You clenched your fist and glared hard at the asshole.

"Yes I have sailed since I was young- I can.. do cleaning and maintance" You lied a bit- not talking about your skills as a thief since this is just a merchant and not pirates like you were used to. The Captian stared at you for a moment before sighing with a shrug.

"Fine- Welcome to the May's Fairy Lady" He grumbled as he gestured for you to get on board. Sighing in relief as you had a way to sea and a income.

However that was better said then in reality-

To say the merchant ship was terrible as well had been an understatement- It was like the Impel Down all over again.. a group of touch starved and angry men who saw you as an easy target. Thankfully due to your skills you were able to evade any advances, during the day you would stay in the Lower Deck to avoid the men, cleaning and eating the stale bread and water you snagged not trusting the cook since he liked to Leer at you far too long.

At night you would travel to the Main Deck and clean up there and sleep till dawn or if the ship rocked a bit too hard. This had been your like for 3 months till one evening.

While mopping the floor of the deck you looked up at the dark sky, remembering the night with Buggy before that big heist. Grabbing him and kissing his suddently as a way to express your interest in him... your heart hurt at remembering his face when you saw him last at the bars of the window, Placing your bandana and kissing a kiss on the back of his hand.

Snapping you from your melancholy thoughs was a loud bang, seeing what looked like a firework shoot up right above you. Several crew mates from below deck also came up at hearing the noise, you watched the firework come directly on top of the ship before exploding in a cloud of red- It was beautiful. Your favorite shade of red too. The crew began to panic at seeing this as the cloud settled on the ship, you felt woozy and uneasy on your feet before you fell to the damp ground before darkness took you a large shadowy form of a ship came closer and you swore you heard circus music.

Groaning you felt yourself sitting up, a harsh digging from metal against your ankles and wrist. Jerking awake you saw you were seated in wooden benches in a dark room, Hearing the groaning and panic of others around you. You pulled at the chains slightly but winced at how tight they were.

Suddently bright lights turned on, You saw your crew chained up and seated next to you staring at a lowered stage. Your breath picking up as circus music started up, watching as different acts come up- it was almost exactly like how you remembered the show you went to in your childhood? Like someone recreating it from memory? People pulled out sighs to applaud which you saw the merchant nervously do.

"No No NO! It's wrong! That is not how a crowd should clap!" You heard a sharp voice say, walking onto the stage- He looked like a pirate Captian and not apart of the circus. You did see clown paint on his face and a red clown nose- which made your eyes narrow at the sight.

Your eyes focused on the grown man- Watching as he commanded the crowd with a twisted smile and yelled at the circus people. He sighed dramtically and looked in the direction of the crowd- chastising them for their lack of enthusiasm and not laughing with the cues. However the wind felt like it was knocked from your lungs.. You knew those eyes.. that blue hair expertly tucked away and real rounded red nose.

"Bugs?" You called out loud by accident- You saw his whole body freezes mid step. A twitch seemed to have shot through his system as your merchant crew mates all looked back at you with a mixture of pity and fear. You swallow a nervous lump as he did a slow turn in your direction, your face still clouded in shadows by the lack of lights in the audience section. Doing a silent hand movement his crewmates assended on you, yanking you from your restraints roughly and pulling you to the stage with little grace and tossing you at Buggy's feet. Rubbing your swore wrist you looked up at your childhood friend through your mess of hair.

"What the Hell Bugs? Shackles!? When the fuck do you use Mph!-" You were cut off as he grabbed your face hard tp pull you to your feet, his eyes wide and overly dilated like he was seeing a ghost. You actually felt afraid? His eyes seemed different and there was a unknown emotion behind them, you tried to wiggle free but he held you firmly taking his free hand and pushing the hair from your face fully at seeing your face you see it looks like all the air has been sucked from his lungs and he releases you quickly, you stumble back barely able to catch yourself as he stares at you with wide eyes.

"You're alive?..." He said in utter shock. You nod and cough a bit as you rub your sore jaw from his grasp. You open your mouth to speak but he holds a hand to you to silence you. His eyes looking more like what you remembered, that swirl of never ending emotions.

"Cabaji- Take her to be washed, fed and dressed. Leave her in my quarters" He commanded, the green man nodded heavily and grabbed you far gentler now to lead you off stage.

Just as instructed a group of people washed you up in a massive copper bath with nice hot water, dressed you in simple trousers and a tunic and quickly dropped you off with a plate on the end table of the large bedroom.

Seated in a massive bed you look down at the hot plate set before you, your manners thrown out the window as you tucked in. Having been far too long since you had a hot filling meal-

Without thinking you rapidly start eating it, it tasted like heaven enough for tears to well in your eyes as you ate. Before long the plate was gone- and you felt nauseous, yout mistake of eating too quickly and food you hadn't experienced in 20 years. You scrambled up to the nearest trashcan and began to vomit- so hard you didn't hear the door open. Only when a gentle hand touched your back which made you flitch and turn around to see Buggy, his eyes wide at your reaction before your body lurches and you vomited again. Buggy held your hair back this time as you vomited into the poor trashcan.

"Sorry... it's been a while since I got a hot meal" You admitted, spitting the taste of bile away from your lips as you sat back.

"It really is you" Buggy said in disbelief still, Getting down on his knees next to you as he looked over you. How you looked so unhealthy and weak- even after being cleaned he could see that abuse had done its work on you.

"Dear Gods... What happened to you?..." Buggy voice finally cracked, his hand reaching out and cupping your cheek his thumb running over the heavy bags under your eyes and the new scars that had set on your face.

"...I survived" You say softly, Leaning into his warm touch feeling tears begin to fall. In seconds Buggy held you tightly in his arms, your face pressed against his chest as ragged sobs left you, maybe it was finally being free from both jail and the hardships on that awful merchant ship but feeling Buggy's arms around you holding you close just finally released that emotional valve and you cried.. Harder then you had in your entire life into his chest.

You felt his hands smooth over your messy hair and rock you side to side as you sobbed against him. You tried to speak but sobbing nonsense was all that left you and was mumbled through Buggy's shirt.

After almost an hour of crying against Buggy you had worn yourself out, sniffling against him as he gently pulled back to look at your reddened face. His own makeup having dripped away from his red eyes- clearly he had been crying too while holding you.

He wiped your face with his gloved hand and laid kisses on your forehead to comfort you.

"You never have to just survive again... I-Im sorry (Y/N) I couldn't save you" His voice cracked at that, you shook your head.

"I-It would have been impossible. You two would have been killed..." You say with a sniffling tone, trying to control your tone and keep from crying again. Buggy asked what had happened, as you told him the story of your escape, prison time, the pain you had suffered and how you'd escaped to be hired by those merchants. He listened dead silent the whole time his hands rubbing circles in your arms to comfort you. However you saw the rage in his eyes at the pain you'd gone through.

Once done explaining yourself he nodded at this, like he was trying to find the words to explain but couldn't. Instead just giving a bitter chuckle at this, shaking his head in anger. He reached up and took off his hat with a angry sigh and tossed it aside. Your eyes catching the bandana underneath and reaching a hand out to touch the fabric.

"You kept that?.. after all these years?" You whispered confused, the anger on his face leaving as he heard this and left your touch. Reaching up and gently pulling off the old bandana for you to see.

"Of course- you gave it to me... W-When you... left. I was destroyed" He admitted, you stared at him with tears starting to fall from you again.

"I couldn't look at myself in the mirror without seeing the face that had let you down.. so I changed- I smiled for you, wore your favorite red and became Buggy the Clown"

He said with a chuckle and gestured to himself. You bit your lip to keep from crying more, he wiped your tears away with a shaky breath.

"You did that for me? Why?" You whispered, he stared at you silently before having a nervous smile.

"I love you"

His words made your heart skip- like that spark of life from when you were 15 had hit you again. Your eyes met his, he also seemed taken aback by his admittance.

"You love me?" You questioned, seeing him nervously mess with his gloves. He always did have little nervous tics like this whenever he was in a odd position, however peeling off one of his gloves to dig his nail into his palm he nodded. You reached forward and took his hand into your own to keep him from harming his hand further.

"Well I'd hope so after giving you my first kiss on that little boat"

You both giggled at this. You rubbing your thumb on his naked palm, seeing the deep scars that covered his hands- like he had dug his nails into them so many times that his palms was covered in smiley faces.

"Of course, didn't hurt it was my first kiss too" He chuckled but you winked at him.

"Don't lie, I remember the story of you and Shanks running on deck and your guys mouth smashing together. That counted" Buggy shiffered in disgust at the memory and wrinkled his face which made you laugh.

"That doesn't count!" He protest which earned more laughter from you, he smiled widely at this.

"Sooo if both of us are still interested, Would you like to continue what should have been?" You asked, giving him a blushing smile which he returned. A big Goofy grin on his face-

"Well, let's get you healthier first. What about a dinner date?" He suggested, almost giddy and you could see that same boy you once knew under that makeup again.

"Sounds perfect"

TAG LIST:

@oxbunnehxo @starsali @avatar-lover @severesongstarfish @flooftoof @lavalampskyy @blogname-18 @ven1cez

#x reader #one peice x reader #one piece #one peice live action #buggy the clown x reader #buggy one piece #buggy x reader #op buggy #captain buggy #buggy the clown #bugg

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tsarjozinzbazin · 3 months ago

Note

Less a Rossier headcanon than historical research but the thing Crozier & and both of the Rosses had going on feels more & more like a throuple, the more I read about them. Among other things: Ross & Ann were the only people allowed to call Crozier Frank. Crozier had nicknames for Ross (John) & Ann (dear thot) too. He was Ross' best man at their wedding and lived with them for a while. The conception of the first two Ross kids is *almost* oddly coordinated to whenever Crozier was around and they didn't have any more until Ross returned from the Arctic in search of the Franklin expedition. Ross had promised Ann (or her father, depending on the source) that he'd never sail again but dropped everything immediately to captain one of the rescue ships when they started looking for the Franklin expedition. Ann apparently gave her blessing by stating that he should bring "our Frank" back. They both sent out letters to Crozier during the early search parties (which were never delivered, obviously).

They make me insane (and that's just the tip of the iceberg. Don't let me tell you about Ross & Crozier having matching hand tremors from their time in Antarctic. Or the ball on New Year's Eve in 1842, which Ross (possibly in drag due to jokingly being referred to as Ms. Ross in some sources) & Crozier opened with a dance. Or Franklin writing about Ross & Crozier that "the same soul animates each". Or Ross stating about Crozier's eulogy that "I was limited to 12 lines to speak of his services. It was hardly possible to say the thousandth part of what I should have like to have said of one I so truly loved". Or- *keels over*)

I have been pondering this for so long omg like yeah there's something sussy between them

in my head Fitzjames wants what Francis and Ross have meanwhile Francis still refers to Fitzjames as "other James" (Fitzjames is delulu but its okay, Francis will end up liking him. in time. long time. it takes extremely long for him to like him)

also this ask absolutely helped me and my bestie make the pirate au in our delusional minds so thank you ejjdhsid <33

anyways I had this in my head and had to draw it because like you have to see it too now

i can't draw dresses or skirts ignore how it's drawn ty 🫶

#so sorry this took so lonh for me to respond to #but i rlly wanted to draw ross in a dress and had no time durinh the week #Ross and Francis are like an old married couple to me #or ig trouple with ann #but we all know the otp ok #shh #like who the fuck has matching hand tremours come on that is so gay #my art #ask #the terror #james clark ross #francis crozier #rossier #Fitzjames is off screen seething btw #like HE is the only one allowed the do drag what the fuck!!#(he is jealous bc Ross looks better in a dress)

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prophecyofwinter · 11 months ago

Text

Se Rĩna Qilōni Iprattan Se Jēdar | I

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary | Saera Targaryen daughter of Jaehaerys I ran away from Westeros to escape her fate. 45 years later her daughter Y/N Targaryen, with invitation from King Viserys wishes to go back.

Tags | TargCest, Smut, Standard ASOIAF content, I wanted to write something raunchy with plot, Aemond and Reader are First Cousins Once Removed.

Prologue | Chapter 2 | Masterlist

Chapter I | The Rest and More

With lots of persuasion from you and lady-lessons from your mother, she deemed you fit enough to sail to King's Landing. However she would not send you alone, she entrusted your safety to your slightly elder brother Vaegon.

He had trained for years in the Temple of Light to become a swordsman, and a fine swordsman he was. Brother or not he really did piss you off most of the time, now more than ever. Once he learned of your impending betrothal to the Targaryen Prince he soured up more than normal. He berated your Mother for days on how she could ever allow this.

He would of course still be a bastard even if you were legitimate, this was only so you could marry Aemond.

“What if he is ghastly! You know someone being unmarried for this long most likely means it’s for a reason!”

You weren’t sure what stick Vaegon had up his ass but you wouldn’t let him ruin this for you, this voyage was bad enough. Perhaps you’d be able to claim a dragon, there are plenty laying around on Dragonstone…

“I am sure I will be able to handle whatever Prince Aemonds complexion is, especially having to witness you for the past 19 years.”

————

“In King’s Landing you can’t wear these kinds of fabrics, these are a whores garments there.”

Your mother threw your old clothes to the side and motioned for you to turn around. She put a thick and hard piece of material around your waist and tied up the back.

“Alright my sweet, breathe in and-“

Suddenly all the air in your lungs was forced out in a shriek as your whole rib cage was crushed under the pressure of whatever the absolute hells this was.

“This is beauty in King’s landing! This will become your life, remember this is what you wanted.”

—————

You’d be at sea for about a month or less depending on the winds. You craved to be back on solid ground, your stomach was not agreeing with you. Sleep escaped you night after night, only catching small power naps multiple times a day before the rocking of the ship would wake you once again.

The tight clothes and strict codes for ladies your mother had laid upon you for survival in Westeros weighed in your head. You hoped your husband would not be as overbearing as you’ve heard of Westerosi men to be.

—————

Your mother had called some of her top prostitutes to come in and teach you the rules and ropes of intercourse.

“The merchants from Westeros really enjoy the girls who act sweet and innocent. You will be expected to provide as much as he pleases, and you mustn’t bore him.”

The brunette climbs on top of you and places her hips between yours, both of you fully clothed doesn’t make the moment less intimate than what you’ve had.

“Now, let’s act out how you cry out for mercy, how you beg for him to be gentle on your body.”

She begins to mimic the motions of intercourse to test and see if you are ready for what she claims will become of your life. A weird sense of embarrassment stings throughout your body, you weren’t expecting this kind of training. You didn’t know there needed to be this kind of training.

“Come on my lady, let's hear you!” She taunts you with a laugh, she grabs your wrists and pins them to the bed to really get it out of you.

——————

You could only spend most of your time reading, reading history books and other stories from Westeros. You could speak the language fluently enough, but you will get it fully soon.

Hopefully you won’t have to give up your favorite foods, the Targaryens should be rich enough to import all the finest things from Essos. Pomegranates, Watermelon, Blackberry Wine, Duck and the list goes on…

The salty air fills your nose, it would be lovely if you weren’t seasick constantly. Reading distracts your mind enough to forget your current feelings.

You haven’t heard anything about the other Targaryens outside of the history books, you don’t even know what the current ones are like…

Your mother doesn’t have good views of, well, anyone. She told you to expect the worst from most of them, if they were anything like her father then you should be watching your back at all times.

Amongst all things and her dislike for Westeros, she wanted to see you happy the most. She said time and time again she would allow you to come back no matter what.

She was sweet and kind where a mother should be.

——————

“What if I claimed a dragon? I could visit you at any time I wanted to, right?”

You asked your mother over morning tea, you were to set sail later today. This would be the last time you would see your mother for the foreseeable future.

Saera rubbed her aging finger over the rim of her cup and laughed to herself a little.

“A dragon isn’t something you can promise, most of my siblings never claimed a dragon in their lifetime.”

You huffed and pouted, your motivation to claim a dragon only increased tenfold. Ever since you were a child when you were told you couldn’t do something it would only make you want it more.

“However, if you were to claim a beast… you would fancy Silverwing I believe. Or if you seek to be bitter, my father would roll in his grave if he knew my child claimed Vermithor…”

Saera laughed to herself heartily, entertaining her child’s wild ideas. She doesn’t doubt you would attempt to claim but she doesnt be believe it would be successful.

——————

Viserys was not expecting Saera to accept his proposal. So he was shocked when Alicent burst into his chambers with a letter in and holding it out to him in anger.

“What is this?! You offer Aemonds hand to the daughter of a whore?! What were you thinking!”

He left out a guttural cough into the fabric of his handkerchief. The unexpected stress of Alicents

rage seething onto him, he was gonna tell her… eventually.

“He is my son too, I must leave no Targaryen unaccounted for. I cannot die in peace knowing there is a- a good Targaryen across the sea. You have been trying to get Aemond wed for years, it- it is the best choice.”

Alicent braces herself on a wooden chair and lets out a deep breath with her head down. Her husband is a fool, he will look like a fool to the seven kingdoms and this girl is proven to be used.

The Queen remembers how she would read to King Jaehaerys on his deathbed and he would mistake her for Saera. He would reach out to her and ask for forgiveness, the guilt would eat at her because it was not hers to give. Until the day his body gave out and he couldn’t muster words anymore he would ask for Saera.

To Alicent, Saera had made her choices and she wanted to be where she was. To bring her bastards into it was too far, she had no choice in the matter. Being the Queen didn’t matter if the King already made up his mind.

“You will force me to greet her I presume. You are far too ill to make it to the port.”

Gods, Viserys already fell back to sleep. Rotted skin exposed and clearly pain stricken. Alicent sighed out loud in frustration and stormed out of the room, guards opening and closing the doors for her.

While she would like to think she knows how Aemond will feel about such an arrangement. He has been without betrothal for all his life and the ladies of the court actively avoid him. Perhaps this is something he needs.

#aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #house of the dragon

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a-killer-obsession · 7 months ago

Note

Hello!! I'd absolutely love to see an AFAB Z Reader with a little bit of P! As for that character, I think I'd have to choose the wonderful number 4. Thank you!

sorry everyone for the long gap between event fics, i promise i'm still working on them!

Milk

Prompt: Mink Reader + Pollen Additional Tags: afab reader, she/her pronouns, light somnophilia, masturbation, face fucking, forced orgasm, breeding kink, oral (receiving and giving), p in v sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, aftercare WC: 3.8

Event Masterlist

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

The island the Victoria Punk was anchored at was supposed to be uninhabited, and as such only a small team had disembarked to scout it out. It was supposed to be uneventful, but you'd stayed back from the scouting team anyway. As the doctor on the ship it wasn't a good idea to put you in any sort of harm's way, especially since you weren't much of a fighter. As a cow mink you were heavy set and slow, on the chubbier side, thought you had a lot of muscle underneath it. You could body a punch, and certainly reply with your own, but you weren't agile or well seasoned like the others. You had a good sense of smell and hearing which helped you stay out of fights, but usually if it came down to it you knew you could rely on the boys to keep you safe, just like they could always rely on you to patch them up.

The scouting team had the job of checking the island was safe from any sort of large dangerous predators before the crew could make use of harvesting any natural resources, so you were waiting patiently along with most of the crew, reading a book as you lounged with Killer on the skull deck, using each other's backs to prop each other up. Your ear twitched as it picked up movement, head perking up at the same time as Killer's haki alerted him to the incoming scouting party. Killer had been facing the island, and you held his shoulders steady so he wouldn't fall backwards as you took away his back rest, turning yourself to peer over his shoulder. The two of you watch with rising alarm as the scouting party breaks from the treeline, Heat running at the front of the group with Wire draped over his shoulder. Both of you are on your feet immediately, Killer rushing to help Heat on board while you run to prepare the infirmary for their arrival.

Your rubber gloves are on as Killer opens the door for Heat, Wire immediately deposited carefully on the closest bed, unconscious and dripping with sweat, his face flushed with fever. You touch the back of your hand to his forehead and immediately recoil at how hot his skin is, quickly setting about getting an IV line of fluids set up to account for the water he was losing through sweat.

“What happened?” You ask Heat as you work, your voice dependable and steady despite everyone else’s panic. Killer had shooed the rest of the crew out of the tight space, Kid appearing past the crowd at the commotion and furrowing his brows as he finds one of his commanders and long time friends unconscious and suffering some unknown ailment.

“It was some sort of flower,” Heat explained, “it came out of nowhere, swung down and smacked him right in the face like it was sentient. There was a puff of pollen or something and he went down”

“Must have been some sort of defense mechanism,” Killer noted, “Heat, tell the others to keep off the island”

“We'll set sail as soon as the pose resets,” Kid added, “have the ship ready to move as soon as it's ready, Wire said it'd take less than a day. I want away from this fucked up island”

“Roger that, Boss,” Heat replied, giving Wire one last forlorn look before leaving to pass along the orders, despite very much not wanting to leave his best friend’s side right now.

“How is he?” Kid asked you, he and Killer now standing on the other side of the cot from you as you worked, checking Wire's vitals and making hasty notes on a clipboard.

“He has a nasty fever,” you replied, “but there doesn't seem to be anything else wrong, no rashes or hives that might indicate this was an allergic reaction, his airway seems clear, he seems mostly fine. Whatever that pollen was has just caused a fever but I won't know the full extent of the damage till he wakes up. For now I think we just need to let him rest and hope the fever breaks soon”

And so let him rest they did. Kid carried Wire back to his own room where you felt he would be more comfortable, and you stayed at his side, dabbing his forehead with wet cloths and rechecking his vitals hourly. While he didn't seem to be getting any better or worse, at some point he started groaning in his sleep, followed by you noticing a visible tent in his leather shorts. That got you concerned, you had heard of flowers that released powerful aphrodisiacs for the purposes of increasing population numbers, but you'd never encountered them yourself. The symptoms matched what you'd heard though, so with that in mind you instructed the others to stay away from his room, under the guise of him being possibly contagious, but really just not wanting Wire to be seen in such a vulnerable state. It was fine for you, you were his doctor, it was all just natural processes, but you had a feeling he wouldn't want his friends seeing him pitching a (very large) tent in his sleep.

That brought up another problem though: what happened when he woke up? You wouldn't deny you had an attraction to Wire, but would it be taking advantage of him to offer yourself up to alleviate his symptoms? You were a doctor after all, it was all for the good of his health, right? Unsure of where you stood on that moral dilemma, you settled yourself into an armchair in the corner of Wire's room to rest, mulling over the pros and cons while you eyed his sweating body as he groaned and clawed at the sheets in his sleep. Perhaps it wouldn't even come to that, after all; Wire was a large man, and the pollen was likely designed for generic wild animals much smaller than him, perhaps the effects would wear off before he even woke up. Mind swimming with questions, you didn't even notice as you started to nod off, falling asleep in the armchair to the sound of Wire's heavy breathing.

⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆

The heavy breathing was much closer when you woke up, ears twitching at the panting in front of you and nose catching the scent of masculine musk and precum not far from your face. Your eyes fluttered open, drowsy from your impromptu nap, immediately going wide as you took in the sight before you. Wire was entirely naked, dark tan skin glistening with sweat as he fisted himself furiously right in front of you. He hadn't noticed you waking yet, concentrating too hard on your chest, which you realised was mostly exposed, your shirt having been unbuttoned halfway in your sleep revealing your lace trimmed bra and ample cleavage. You should have felt violated by the situation, any sane woman would, but instead you found yourself rubbing your thighs together in need, unbearably turned on by the tall man taking advantage of you in your vulnerable sleeping state. You were well aware how fucked up that was, but you couldn’t help get horny at it, somnophilia was certainly a kink you indulged in. You looked up at him and watched his expression change to fear as he noticed you were awake, but he never stopped pumping his impressive cock, one of his hands resting on the back of your chair as he loomed over you.

“I- I can't stop- I'm sorry,” he groaned, risking coming closer now that he was already caught, resting a knee on one of the arms of the chair. His cock was so very close to your face, so you did the only logical thing you could think of; you opened your mouth and lolled out your long, rough tongue, using your hands to free your tits from your bra and holding them together, inviting him to cum on you. He made a confused whimper at the action, having expected backlash, and eyed your breasts hungrily, seeing now your pretty pink nipples and the full curve of your massive tits.

“Well?” You purred, “are you going to give me your milk or not?”

That finally set him over the edge, pushing his cock into your offered mouth and grabbing your short horns, setting a brutal pace as he fucked your face. You were glad for your long snout, allowing you to take far more of him than a human could before his impressive length hit the back of your throat. You also had barely any gag reflex thanks to your mink anatomy, so you had no issue with his rough treatment of your mouth, arousal pooling between your legs as he used you. You were used to being used roughly like this, no vanilla man ever slept with a mink, only those with kinks that you’d found yourself enjoying more and more as you experimented with humans. You were well aware of the strange appeal you held for some humans, with your animal-like face, long tongue, ample tits that alluded to an udder, and your cute tail that usually sprouted from under your skirt, lifting the hem oh so slightly. They were charms you took full advantage of; despite your sweet, innocent, bovine face you knew you loved it when men used you, and you knew you loved taking control as well, usually being much stronger and heavier than your lovers.

It didn't take long before you heard Wire groan and felt hot, thick liquid sliding down your throat, but this time it was your turn to be in control. He tried to pull his cock from your mouth (notably still hard, though you would have refused to let him go regardless) but you sunk your hands into the flesh of his ass, holding him still, your wide nose pressed against his pubic hair as you looked up at him with mischievous eyes. Men who came to you for sex often made references to milk, so naturally the act of milking a man had become something you had come to love, dominating your lovers regularly, enthralled by the act of forcing humans to give you their seed against your mink instincts to only breed with your own kind. You adored overstimulating your lovers, you loved to watch them squirm, hearing them beg for mercy only to force another orgasm from them, it was your favourite. And with the pollen not letting him settle, it was all the sweeter. He tried to pull your head away but you were an immovable object, relishing his overstimulated whines as you lolled out your long tongue and let it flick against his balls while you literally suckled on his cock. His hands went from trying to pull you off to holding you against him, letting out a string of curses as you groped his ass and sucked the life out of him, forcing another orgasm from him. Not till you had every last drop of his cum did you let him go with a pop, licking your lips and giving him an innocent look as he panted and held your horns for support.

“M-more,” he groaned, almost doubling over on himself as you started to pump his still swollen cock. You wondered how many times he would have to finish before the pollen would clear from his system, how many times could he breed you before it was done with him? The thought made your thighs rub together. Naughty mink, breeding with a human, you thought to yourself, a thought that often got you hot and bothered. You wanted him to breed you, you wanted him to pump you full of cum till it had nowhere to go and dripped from your abused cunt.

His head tilted and his eyes fluttered closed, nose moving like he was taking in a scent in the air, a shiver running through him as he smelt your arousal. You wondered to what extent the pollen truly affected him, were his senses elevated too? Or only in ways that allowed him to find a mate? You didn't have much time to think on it before he was on his knees, having to bend considerably to account for his height so he could lick and suck at your thighs, pulling your knees up and pushing them to rest over the arms of the chair as he blindly sought out the source of the sweet alluring smell. He pushed up your skirt and pressed his nose right against your damp panties, butting against your clit and making you moan, as he let out his own groans at your scent.

“Fuck, you smell so good. Want you-” was all he could manage to get out as his hands ran along your thighs and pulled at your panties, “want, want-” It was like his mind had been turned to mush, all he could think about of vocalise were basic needs, and right now he needed to taste you, it was all he could think about.

He tore the fabric from your body and you both moaned as his tongue made contact, licking long stripes up your cunt, not with the aim of pleasuring you but with the aim of tasting you, gathering your slick on his tongue and drinking it down like he needed it to live. Each swipe grazed over your clit and made you jolt, your hand burying in his short hair as he lapped at you, growing annoyed as your honey was replaced with his saliva. “More!” He growled, bullying his tongue inside you to get to the source, making a satisfied hum as he did so, deaf to your pleasured moans as he drank from you. He wasn’t actively trying to make you feel good, only selfishly trying to gather all your essence, but his ministrations and groans against your sensitive flesh felt so fucking good, and soon you were pulling on his short hair and riding out your high against his face, his tongue working overtime to gather every drop that gushed from you.

His eyes were practically black as he looked up at you, unnaturally blown wide by the pollen, his need for you insatiable but at least his thirst for your honey had been quenched. His tongue ran up your body, rolling over your soft tummy and leaving a wet trail of saliva behind as he travelled to your breasts, yanking your bra down further and sucking one tit into his mouth as his large hand groped the other. He suckled at the nipple and made a disappointed whine. “What, did you expect there to be milk? Because I’m a cow mink?” you huffed, pulling his hair hard to remove him from your breast. He gave you a look that was entirely unapologetic. It wasn’t the first time a man had expected you to be lactating, it was a little offensive to be honest. “Only cows that have calved have milk, dumbass. You ever seen me running around with a baby on my arm? Tsk”

“I’ll have to put a calf in you then,” he decided, his sultry voice making your pussy clench around nothing as he raised himself higher, his face now a hair’s width away from yours. His eyes ran down your entire body, your hair messy, your cheek wet with tears from deepthroating, your clothes pulled out of place to expose your breasts and pussy, your legs still hooked over the arms of the chair to spread you wide for him. His index finger played with your pussy, pushing your slick and his saliva around before the digit slid inside you, followed by a second. He watched you closely as he began to pump your cunt slowly, expecting you to start moaning, but you only huffed in annoyance at him, which made him raise a brow.

“You gonna breed me or what then, Wire?” you asked him, and his dick throbbed at the thought. Quickly he removed his fingers from you, pumping his cock a few times to spread your slick over his member before lining the fat head up with your entrance. You were ill prepared for his girth, but you were the one who asked for it. You both groaned in unison as he sunk inside you, stretching you wide as you clawed at his back. Your tongue came out to lick at his lips, and he sucked it into his mouth, your long appendage filling it. He could feel it at the back of his throat as your tongue explored, making his eyes roll back as he began a vicious pace with the intent of pumping you full of as much cum as possible.

“Ah, just like that, fuck,” you whined, enjoying the way his massive cock filled you so well, pulling against every inch of your inner walls, rubbing right where you wanted him without even trying. “Put a fucking baby in me, Wire, fuck me till I’m fat with your calf”

“Fuck, fuck,” he groaned, “I’ll give you what you want sweet heifer, I’ll make you a mother”

His mind was heavy with lust and his judgement cloudy from the pollen as he fucked you hard and fast. He came quickly at the feeling of your hot wet walls around him, but he didn’t stop for even a moment, the pollen not letting him. The overstimulation was driving him insane, your walls clenching around him as you cooed your praises and begged him to fuck a baby into you, gushing over his cock once, twice, a third time, his pace never once letting up. Sweat dripped from his body and made you sticky, your own sweat soaking the bunched up clothes around your waist, your tits and tummy bouncing with every hard thrust he gave you. Your cunt was milking him for everything he had, Wire groaning against your shoulder as he came again, the pollen still not letting go of the tight hold it had on him. It was starting to hurt, his cock throbbed painfully from the insistent erection. Including before you’d woken, he’d cum a total of five times, and the blood still refused to drain from his cock. Groans turned to pained moans as he struggled to find the energy to keep up with his body’s needs, pistoning into you desperately. You saw the pained look in his eyes, and realised something wasn’t right.

“Wire, shh, it’s okay baby,” you cooed, “you want me to take over?”

He whined and nodded in defeat, using the last of his strength to carry you both to the bed, his hips still moving on their own accord like he truly couldn’t stop as he laid himself down with you on top of him. You stroked his face soothingly and made hushed assurances as you took over the movements, riding him hard and fast, his fingers digging into your hips. He shamelessly watched and enjoyed the way your tits bounced, reaching up to grope at them and letting out strings of curses as you purposely clamped down around his cock, trying to spur on his orgasm. It was no longer about getting yourself off, you recognised that he was hurting and he needed this to be over, so you were doing everything you could to get him to finish in the hopes the pollen would finally let go of him, otherwise you might have to consider medical intervention. His body wasn’t going to be able to handle much more, he’d already lost so much sweat and fluids, and his cock felt raw from overuse, he needed this to be over.

“Come on baby, give it to me,” you purred, hoping dirty words would put him over the edge, “give me all your cum so I can get fat with your calf and you can milk my tits whenever you want”

“Ah~ hurts- hurts-” Wire cried, treating your tits like stress balls as he tried and failed to let himself go. “Can’t- gotta cum- can’t-”

“It’s okay Wire, let go,” you cooed, tweaking his nipples to try and give him extra stimulation.

“Hmmph-” he groaned as you tugged on his pert buds, his hands coming down to grab your waist as he suddenly began to piston up into you, “fuck fuck fuck, just like that, just like that”

“Cum for me Wire,” you moaned, “breed me, hnng, gonna cum too”

“Yes, yes, cum for me,” he growled, using a thumb to rub your clit furiously and groaning as he ripped another orgasm from you, your release dripping over his abdomen, surprising you that you even had anything left to give. “Ah, good girl, good girl,” he groaned, “so tight, so good, cumming, fuck, cumming”

He held you down by your hips so your cunt was flush with his front, his cock balls deep inside you and stretching you out as he whined and creamed once more, cum spilling out from where you were connected as his body shook underneath you. “There you go baby, there you go,” you purred, Wire’s entire body going slack as he let go, panting hard as he laid against the bed. You pulled off his finally softening cock slowly, the movement making him whine in pain. His cock was red and sore, and you felt so sorry for him. Sure, it’d been fun, and you were more than satisfied, but at what cost? You carefully pressed the back of your hand to his forehead, Wire looking at you through a half-lidded, confused gaze as you checked his temperature and found that his fever had finally broken.

You winced as you slid off the bed, trying your best to right your clothes so you could pour him some water and bring the cup to him. He noticed your slight limp and looked unbelievably guilty as you helped him sit up so you could guide him to drink. “Did I hurt you?” he asked, holding your wrist carefully in his long fingers.

“You’re just big, sweetheart,” you cooed, “i’ll be okay, are you feeling alright though? The pollen did quite the number on you”

“I didn’t- I didn’t mean to,” he pleaded, “I’m sorry”

“Its okay Wire, really,” you ran your thumb over his cheek, tracing the pointed sideburn, “you needed help, I was more than happy to provide it”

Finally convinced that it was okay, he let you guide the glass to his mouth and allow him to drink, emptying the glass eagerly before you helped him lay back down. You took one of the damp cloths you’d been easing his fever with and cleaned him carefully, finding him already asleep by the time you finished. You cleaned yourself up next, stripping off your dirtied clothes and climbing into the bed beside him. He stirred for only a moment to wrap his arms around you, before you fell to exhaustion as well, tucked into his chest as he held you protectively.

#one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #AKO 250 event #wire x reader #wire one piece

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