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karikarasuno · 3 years ago

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A Sliver of Eternity

Pairing: Pirate! Getou Suguru x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Reader is heavily inspired by Circe, Angsty Ending, Implied Violence (but nothing explicit), Smut (18+ only), Unprotected Sex, Slight Pussy Job, Implied Satosugu

Word Count: 8.7k

a/n: we’re ignoring that this was supposed to come out a month ago, and also that it was supposed to be 5k. we’re gonna be proud that I finished it because this was quite a journey through writer’s block. i want to thank @lady-lunaaa, @dabilove27, and @gixxie for hosting this fun af collab. i’m so happy to have been a part of it and love you all a whole lot. here’s the masterlist for your reading pleasure. please enjoy some pirate getou, with a side of love and heartbreak.

Breathe.

Once in. Once out.

The air that fills your lungs is staticy. A metallic taste coats your tongue and the storm rolling in doesn’t disappoint. You smelled it before you saw it, a shift in scent that went from salt and sea spray to a chemical earthy aroma. The wind is sharp, slicing through the island’s vegetation with ruthless intensity. And if it weren’t for the twisted possibility of someone crashing ashore, you would be seeking shelter in your small cottage. Hidden behind thickets of trees and newly blossoming flowers.

It's become a rare occurrence for someone to involuntarily visit you. A punishment, you assume. One as harsh and unforgiving as the one that got you here. But on the occasion, you were gifted with a companion, however willing they were. Every so often, you find a lover to mold and nurture and corrupt. The idea alone fuels your desire to stand below the roaring skies. To taste the electricity surging through the clouds and feel the cold, unrelenting force of the rain. In these scarce moments, you feel most alive. Like the magic dancing at your fingertips conducted humanity to your will. Like the fire burning in your veins set the world aflame and led an unsuspecting traveler straight to you.

It is what you have come to yearn for, since nothing else is really as eternal as hope.

Your thin white linens begin to soak through, sticking to your soft frame like a second skin. Goosebumps tighten your flesh, the air in your chest chilling with each gasp. You want to bottle it. This adrenaline coursing through you. To get high off whenever you so pleased. Instead of allowing fate to decide that for you. Isolation has you losing grip on reality. But you don't care anymore. This is what they want, isn’t it?

To watch your sanity slip through your fingers until you were nothing but a shell of brewing sorcery for them to unleash when they needed?

And maybe you would grant that to them. But not today. Not when someone is close enough to sink your teeth into. To tattoo their flesh with your name. To carve pleas onto their tongue.

So you wait. Hands braced on wrinkled bark amongst rows of tall grass that scratch at your ankles and calves. You sink your bare toes into the soaked sand beneath your feet, burying yourself into that spot. A predator searching for its next prey.

Hours pass. Or maybe they are merely seconds. But thunder shakes the earth and lightning cracks towards the ocean. A ship, dark and wooden and enormous, comes barrelling towards you. It’s delicious. The fruits that hope yields. Sweet and juicy– dripping from your being like the raindrops cascading down your face.

And from there, you see just a single man. White shirt weighed down by the torment of the storm, long black hair flinging around his shoulders and neck as he desperately tries to keep his ship from wrenching right down the middle. He’s hopeless to stop it though. His destiny is already placed into the palm of your hands for you to decide.

The ship crashes into your shore with a riotous boom, loud enough to rival the ones wreaking havoc from above. It tears– thin fabric ripping down the seams by the shears of your shore. Easy.

A nauseating joy rocks through you, your head spins with excitement. Hardly containable within your skeleton, your body’s construction on the verge of bursting. He tumbles out from between one of the cracks in the hull, somersaulting in the open air before he smacks the ground with a gruesome crunch. Your nails dig into the wet bark, lying in wait before you seek him out. The prey you’ve been waiting oh so patiently for.

The storm rages on, flying pieces of stray wood blowing off and into the ocean. He’s laying flat on his back, unmoving and red beginning to stain through his shirt. You fight your way towards him, braving the worst of the downpour to reach his still body. The chill of the rain aching your joints. You sweep chunks of hair from his face, gasping at how absolutely beautiful he is. Even with blood staining his hairline, the relaxation of his should be pained features are startingly gorgeous. Your heart leaps in your chest, thumping into your throat at the prospect of him being all yours. A treat not even immortality can rip from your greedy fingertips.

With great effort you manage to drag his unconscious, dead weight into your home. Flickerings of already burning candles guide you into your living room, where you lay him, nearly lifeless, on the fur rug in front of your fireplace. You remove his shirt, tattered and bloody, to inspect his injuries. He has a fairly large gash right down his oblique, deep but not bleeding as much as you expected. Other than that and the wound near his temple, his body is almost perfection. Sculpted in a way that should only be carved from marble, all hard lines and thick muscle. Scars decorate him. Some obviously older than others, the bumpy skin smooth to the touch.

Before getting too distracted by him, you begin to boil some water over your stovetop. There are herbs lining the shelves of your kitchen, many of them used to make medicinal pastes for moments just like these. You pluck a few from their places, resting them on the wooden countertop to start mixing.

The rain accompanies your movements, the thunder moving away from your island only to leave behind the patters of raindrops on your roof. It’s all so ritualistic, seemingly mundane, from the amount of times you have healed a lost soul. Only to be brought back down to earth by the same hands that took the care to heal them.

You grind the herbs down in your worn mortar, the greenery breaking down rather quickly once you add the freshly boiled water. No one knows of the unique properties your plants possess, a treasured secret despite your constant surveillance.

Once everything is in order you kneel beside him, knees digging into the plushness of your rug. There is a damp rag draped over your knee, the other supplies set down around you. You wipe away the blood first, cleaning him with rapt attention since it has been far too long that you’ve had another warm body so close. It’s simple enough to tend to his wounds after— the alcohol you bring over probably stinging his open cut. But you move on swiftly, scooping a thick clump of the paste onto two fingers. Your hands are thrumming with restrained power as you slather the opening with the grainy substance.

His body is still hot. A good sign, you think. Lucky for you he isn’t succumbing to his injuries, so his recovery time should be shorter than most. But with the damage on his head, it’s difficult to discern when exactly he would be waking up.

The process is routine after you stabilize him. He’s left on the ground in front of the fireplace as you begin to burn the dwindling wood settled there. You keep his shirt off, choosing to throw away the shredded material before leaving to find him some dry, clean clothing. You lay them folded beside his sleeping form, reclining against the base of your small sofa to wait. Again.

This one is much less entertaining, and maybe a touch too comfortable. You fight the exhaustion weighing down your eyelids, half-baked attempts at trying to get yourself up and moving were fruitless. Especially once you were curled against the lush fabric, the heat of the fire beating against your now damp clothes. You relax, deciding that you deserve some much needed rest after the work you put in dragging a man far larger than you across the beach. You allow your eyes to flutter shut, only illuminated by the fire gently pulsing across from you.

He’s the first to awaken. A gasp and then a groan stirring you awake from where your head had fallen on your shoulder. You knead out the kink in your neck, yawning and stretching before peeking at him through half-lidded eyes. He’s clutching his side, body squirming with obvious discomfort as his other hand comes up to hold his head. He’s still disoriented from his fall, confusion furrowing his brow when he cautiously absorbs his surroundings. Foreign to him and you feel a bubble of excitement fill your chest.

You crawl towards him slowly, the sound muffled against the rug as you place a soothing hand on his shoulder. He flinches at first, eyes widening at the physical contact as he meets your gaze. Emotions play like scenes across his irises– confusion, fear, defense, and then nothing. A blank expression that should make you nervous, but you know this type. The quiet, defiant kind. The ones who believe masking their intent will eventually get them what they want.

So, you play along. Hand rubbing gentle circles on his shoulder, eyes softening as you stare at him with feigned concern. He raises onto an elbow. You adjust back and bow your head. Demure. He takes the bait, lowly grunting when he rises into a seated position. Breathing labored from the effort.

“Where am I?” He asks, maintaining his distance, tone leaving little room for refusal.

“My home,” you start, meeting his gaze through batting lashes. “I found you on the beach. There was a terrible storm and when I went out to gather my belongings from the garden I heard a horrible sound and rushed to the shore.”

He mulls your words over in his head, rolling his neck on his shoulders until there’s a satisfying pop. He resituates his position, sitting up taller, hand still holding his side to apply pressure to the pain.

“Your ship was nearly destroyed in the crash,” you say, almost apologetically. And you watch his shoulders sag. His only mode of travel deserting him here for who knows how long.

“How’d I get here?”

“Oh, I dragged you here,” you laugh, understanding how ridiculous that sounds to his ears, thoroughly enjoying the crease that appears between his eyebrows. He doesn’t believe you. Nor does he have to really. But he’s here either way, and doesn’t have much of a choice in the matter.

He doesn’t ask anything else, choosing instead to look at your home from over your head. He’s calculating, you can tell. You keep your home as unassuming as possible, for the likes of men like this. He’s searching for points of danger to which he will find none. Just herbs and cloth and handmade furniture. It’s evident that you live alone, the only clothing visible belonging to a person of your size and hanging off of a clothesline strung in your kitchen near the window. And even though he does not find the threats that he is searching for, he still does not relax. His shoulders remain tense, posture vigilant and prepared for any form of attack, even in his condition.

Not everyone can be the trusting kind, but you’ll crack him eventually.

What you were really hoping for was that he would carefully open up. But conversations with him remained minimal. After the first night, when the storm left behind the wreckage it delivered, he kept to himself. Any attempts at conversation you tried to make were only ever met with few words and thoughtfully guarded eye contact.

Still, you care for him. Every night he allows you to reapply the medicine. You wrap it in clean linen once you're done and he thanks you. That’s the extent of it.

He forages for wood, uses the tools that you offer to chop down trees and sand them down. He spends most of his days fixing his ship. Mending the broken pieces until they no longer look irreparable. It’s amazing what he has done in such little time. And you almost feel sorry for deceiving him. For allowing him to think that he will be leaving your island, let alone alive.

Once you’re here, you will never leave. That’s how you seek revenge.

“You never told me your name,” you say one evening as you serve him dinner on your doorsteps. You discover he would rather eat outside, with the breeze and ocean to keep him company. He accepts the bowl from your hands, mixing his food with the fork and staring off towards the horizon. Where the scorching sun was setting into the waves.

“Suguru,” he admits, stuffing a forkful of food into his mouth. Offering nothing else, but that. You chuckle because he only ever gives you just enough to satiate your curiosity. Choosing to flat out ignore your questions at times.

“Suguru,” you repeat, the name rolling off your tongue tenderly and disappearing into the evening. He hums in acknowledgment, nodding before taking another bite of his dinner. Suguru, you say in your mind, spelling it across your brain and making it stick. It’s a name unlike any you’ve heard before.

“And you?” He asks, glancing up at you. You fight the urge to smile because this is the first time he’s ever made an effort to know you. Even if it’s just as simple as your name. And you give it to him, whisper it into the brilliant sunset, hoping it sounds just as alluring to his ears as his did yours.

“Pretty,” he says, and you stare, mouth slightly ajar, ears prickling with heat. That was unexpected. And a weird swirly feeling began to make its way into your stomach. He catches your expression, chuckling lightly around another mouthful of dinner. This time it’s you who doesn’t say a word. It’s you who turns your head to the horizon and marinates in the aftershocks of his reply.

Pretty.

You bite away a smile.

Too soon, you’re wrapping his torso for one last time with spare cloth. He’s healed rather nicely, his skin sewing itself shut as if the gash was never there. Suguru compliments your herbs every day. His curiosity has been winning these past few days. Questions tumble from his lips without hesitation and it seems as if a bond is forming. He’s teasing when he opens up, taunting in that attractive kind of way when you do something he doesn’t particularly agree with. And all you seem to be doing nowadays is chewing away grins.

“That’s the worst way you could possibly do that,” he says, coming up behind you one late afternoon. You’re cleaning fish for dinner, preparing it to be cooked over the fire. He usually doesn’t wander in this early, the sun still high enough for him to be working on his ship. You toss a glance over your shoulder, fingers twitching with the desire to push his hair from his eyes.

“And how else should I do this?” You motion to the fish, nearly cut open on the chunk of wood you call an island. He likes to bait you, you have come to realize. Finds some twisted enjoyment in countering and fixing every little thing you do.

“Like this,” his voice slithers down your neck, his body closer than it has ever been as he slips the knife from your hands. He cuts a clean line up the underbelly of the fish, removing what’s inside before scraping any excess from the outside. He does all of this while only a few inches from your backside, repeating the process with the second one with swift ease.

There was nothing wrong with the way you were doing it before. Matter of fact, this was the only way you’ve ever prepped a fish for a meal. But he wants to frustrate you, a silly game you know all too well, but are still somehow hopeless against when it comes to him.

“Have you ever watched me prepare our dinner before?” You ask, spinning to face him, hands bracing on the edge of the island. His arm is still leaning against it too, bristling heat sneaking between your bodies and making goosebumps rise on your skin. Your tone is defensive, out of habit for the most part, but also to see his irises flicker with amusement.

“Don’t have to. I already know you’re doing it wrong,” he’s baiting you, and for what it’s worth, you’re letting him. You cross your arms over your chest, huffing out a mildly irritated sigh.

“Is that right?”

“Mhmm,” the vibration of his deep voice sends a shiver down your spine, one you try to suppress as subtly as possible. You refuse to let him win though, so you invade his space this time, laying a hand on his chest, and rising on your toes enough so that your lips barely reach his ear.

“Get out of my kitchen, Suguru” you whisper, voice dripping with sultry intent, and you shove him. Hard enough to where he takes two steps away from you, his face now clearly in your line of sight. Where you are pleased to find a dusting of pink on the tips of his ears and a spark of intrigue in his expression.

He raises his hands in defeat before walking backwards out of your home. The wind catches his hair, ripples the opening of his shirt to expose just enough of him to make you yearn. You stare as he disappears somewhere down the beach. This game is going on for far longer than it ever has with any of the other men that had been stranded on your shore.

Most are eager to accept the advancements of a lonely woman. Oftentimes feel entitled to it after what they had ‘been through’ to get here. But he is wholly different. He’s made no move to take advantage of this situation and that for some reason has you bending and molding to his will. Even when you convince yourself that’s not at all what is happening.

He shows up again right on time for dinner to be served. In his usual spot on the steps of your porch, elbows resting on the top one where he’s lounging in the first relaxed position you’ve seen from him. He looks good, enticing specifically. Not that he didn’t always. There was just something about this version of him. The near trusting kind, that has your heart rate pick up and your brain buzzes with excitement. You lean over to hand him his plate. He thanks you, a smile sent your way as he accepts it. He resituates himself into a better position for eating, leaning forward a bit to scrutinize the food. And just when you think he’s going to say something snarky again, he pats the space beside him with confidence.

“Sit with me,” he instructs, challenge in his gaze.

You bite the inside of your cheek, your own plate balanced in your palm as you eyed him suspiciously. “What makes you think I want to?”

He pats the empty space again, a little more firmly than before. “I don’t think, I know. Just come eat with me.”

You roll your eyes to hide your enthusiasm, but listen anyway, lifting the fabric of your ankle length dress to step down. He’s following the movement, gaze lagging on the reveal of your calf, sliding up with the fabric and dropping down just as quickly when you sit.

“Better?” He asks, looking you over with interest. You don’t answer, instead choosing to tear at the meat of your fish with your fingers, separating it from the bone. It’s cooked well through, tender enough to just pick off. You place it in your mouth, tasting salt and lemon on your tongue. And he’s watching you, a habit you noticed that he adopted recently. A habit you’re not sure if you are too keen on yet.

You throw him a sideways glance, shifting your eyes from his face to the food in his lap. Silently urging him to eat. He breathes out a laugh, finally averting his gaze and mimicking you.

The two of you eat in silence for a while, almost until you’re entirely done with your meal. The sky has erupted in brilliant shades of orange and pink, the sun kissing the ocean before it begins to sink right into it. He cleans off his plate before you, setting it down on the opposite side of him as he settles into that position once again, his eyes drifting closed this time as he allows his food to digest.

You slow your pace, partially because you’re distracted by him. A habit you have managed to pick up these last few days, alarmingly so. He catches your blatant staring, laughs again in the rumbling way he does from his chest. “What?”

Initially, you shrug, eating the last piece of meat from your plate before discarding it beside you just as he did. “Where did you come from?”

The question has been on your mind for some time, you never really take the time to get to know your victims. But he’s not like the others. You like this one.

“What do you mean?” He plays dumb, eyes still closed as his head falls further back between his shoulders.

“You must have a home, a story. Every pirate like you does,” you say, leaning your elbow on your knee to rest your head in your palm as you twist to face him. “So what is it?”

He considers his answer, the thought process present in the way he puckers and thins his lips.

“I was born on a large island north of here, but it’s not my home,” he corrects, a darker tone swimming around his answer. A warning maybe, but now you’re really curious.

“So then where is home for you?”

He points ahead, to the waters that are calm tonight, bluer than they have been in forever. What a typical answer for a man like him. Not surprised in the slightest. You give him a once over, the kind of look you know he feels, even if his eyes are closed. You wait for him to open them, and when he does you ask, “why?”

He smirks at you, running a hand through his hair before sitting up and leaning in your space. His head drops so that his lips hover over your ear, his breath warming your skin and you tense a little with expectation.

“Why not?” And he leaves. He gets up in one fluid motion, plate in hand as he saunters inside. Leaving you to sit, open mouthed and expectant in his wake.

Receiving answers from him is a lot like pulling teeth, something that you have never done, probably never will. But the resistance you’re faced with is tangible. And despite his attempts at redirection, you now spend dinners at his side, witnessing the sunset every evening. And with the disappearance of day, night reveals detail after detail.

You learn he’s from a small fishing town. That he no longer has family there, at least none tied to him by blood. He says he used to have a crew when he first left his island, a few of them who were just as ready to flee as he was. But he doesn’t mention where they have gone or what has happened to them. Just a distant flicker of resonating loss in his eyes as he swiftly changes the subject.

It’s early morning when you wake up and he’s not in his usual spot on the floor beside the fireplace. He sleeps on a makeshift bed there, made up of crisp sheets and a few feather pillows. Oddly empty now, given the sun has just risen and you’re usually up before him. You worry, fleeting thoughts of him having escaped coursing through you as you run out of your home and towards the beach. Your heart is pounding so densely in your chest, you fear you might actually throw it up. His ship is not in its usual spot either, and your thoughts cause a tornado in your mind.

You’re spiraling, your eyes search the remarkably empty terrain. It’s impossible for him to have already fixed his ship and set sail. Doesn’t make any sense. As soon as you begin to feel the last traces of hope dissipate from your body, you hear a chuckle ride the wind to your ears.

“Missed me?” He’s smirking when you whip your head in his direction. He’s standing a few yards away amidst some shrubs. His hands are casually tucked into his pockets and he’s eyeing you with such intense curiosity you feel yourself shrinking. Feeling uncharacteristically small.

You fidget, rolling your shoulders back and tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear. “You really shouldn’t tie your hair so tightly.”

You deflect instead, noticing the bun he messily tied his normally loose hair into. This earns you a smile— an annoyingly cheeky, stupidly endearing one.

He makes his way towards you, tugging on the elastic in his hair until it’s free flowing and cascading over his broad shoulders. He holds it out to you, patient as he arches an amused brow. “And what do you suggest I do?”

You pluck the hair tie from his fingers, rolling it onto your wrist as you think over his question. Primarily because he never ceases to surprise you, he takes every excuse and quip you throw at him and turns it on its head. The two of you are always sparring in this way, an endless battle that will inevitably end. And as of right now, you’re even unsure of who the victor will be.

You motion for him to turn around, back facing you. He looks skeptical at first, but eventually follows your silent instruction. There’s hesitation in your next few movements, your fingers twitching at your sides before you lift them to Suguru’s hair. You brush your fingers through his dark strands, the roots near the base of his neck are a bit damp from sweat.

It’s a little knotted from the bun he wrangled his hair into, but you comb it through, smirking to yourself when he visibly shivers. You end up braiding it loosely, tying it off before stepping away from him.

“That’s better,” you say, knocking his shoulder with your knuckles when you’re done. You expect his usual smirk when he turns to face you, but instead he looks kind of breathless. His cheeks are dusted with an uncharacteristic shade of pink. And when you lock gazes, your heart kick starts in your chest. There’s a tenderness there that you’re not sure what to do with.

“How do I look?” He asks, a hint of his typical playfulness dances just beneath the surface of his question. The wind chooses then to pick up— sand and fabric flowing between your bodies as you just stare at each other. He looks like he always does. And you swore to never admit it out loud but he looks…

“Pretty.”

After your slip up earlier, and the stunned smugness that rolled off of him in waves after your compliment, you’d avoided him for the rest of the day. Choosing to nurture your herbs in the heart of your island than face him and his unrelenting teasing. Normally, this whole back and forth never bothered you. You lived for it. It made the loneliest days purposeful. But you were starting to become conflicted in your own feelings.

Feelings that you shouldn’t even have in the first place. You could lie to yourself easily enough. Tell your mind that you bolted out of your home this morning because you were too prideful to lose a conquest. But it was useless against your heart. The one thing making your life more hell than it already is.

You dig deep, fingers burying themselves in the rich soil and searching for the roots that you have long committed to memory. It’s not weird for you to just close your eyes and feel. Not odd to grab the dirt in fistfuls until something sparked in your fingertips. The connection you have with this land is unlike any you have ever felt in the many years of your immortality. Except now.

Wretched feelings of things other than vengeance and lust are taking root inside of you and it is almost as if you are helpless against it. Because when you closed your eyes you saw him. When you slept you dreamt of him. And every waking moment was spent with him at the forefront of your mind. As if your own sorcery was working against you, to sabotage what you felt was your one true purpose in this existence.

Not even the magic brewing against your palm is enough to push him out of your mind. You could do what you always did. Dispose of him the same way you had done to all the others. But the thought alone had your stomach turning and your heart splintering into sharpened shards within your chest.

You punch the soil in a fit of frustration, crushing a few sprouts along the way. You should feel sorry for hurting the only thing you truly loved. But you could only feel sorry for yourself. And the absolute catastrophic mess you realize you’re now in.

Dinner is going to be late. The sun’s position in the sky notifies you that it is later than you thought, time slipping through your fingers just like everything else seemed to be doing. You wipe your hands down your thighs, smearing dirt across the white linen and rising to your full height. Sweat drips down your cheek and without thinking twice you wipe it away. Realizing too late that the wetness mirrored on the other cheek is not sweat, but tears. Raw, human emotion.

And you couldn’t be more disgusted by yourself.

When you arrive at your cottage, you smell spices wafting through the open door. A delightful scent curling around your limbs and beckoning you forward. You climb the steps tentatively, not wanting to break the illusion because surely you are hallucinating. Suguru is standing at your kitchen island, sleeves rolled up over his elbows as he cut something on the wooden surface. His lip is secure between his teeth and his face of unbroken concentration does something strange to you, your body reacting without permission and sending heat straight to your center. You shake off the feeling, physically snapping yourself out of it and continuing your walk into your own home. One that he looks so comfortable in, a natural figment you can no longer imagine this space without.

“Hungry?” He asks, finally acknowledging your presence standing just outside the threshold. He smiles at you over his shoulder as he scoops whatever he was cutting into a large pot over the gas stove. You missed that entirely. The bubbling contents are loud enough that you should’ve noticed but didn’t. His biceps flex and pull as he stirs what you assume to be a stew. And saliva pools in your mouth– unsure if it's from the magnificent smell filling the house or him, just the sight of him.

Which means you are officially losing it. Whatever shred of sanity you had left.

“I finished earlier than usual today and when I couldn’t find you I figured I could cook dinner for once,” he says when you don’t reply to his initial question. “Least I could do since you’re always taking such good care of me.”

This gets a smile from you, however small it may be. He’s magnetic. And you are beginning to question if he’s the one with the magic here because no mortal should have this amount of power over you. Not when your center of gravity has begun to shift to where you revolve around him. Your whole world is on its own axis and you have never felt more disoriented.

“I’m starving,” you say, taking the one step you needed to be inside. You make your way towards him, leaning over the boiling pot to glimpse what he decided to cook. “Smells amazing.”

You inhale deep, eyelids closing wistfully and you relax. He’s warm, and the steam dewing over your face feels nice enough to fall asleep into. Which is when you clock how cold it is. The temperature dropped suddenly, the turn of season sneaking up on you.

When you open your eyes you flick them up to glance at him, and his stare is already set on you. Something foreign simmers within his gaze and your chest tightens. A tense fear locking your limbs when you recognize that same look is reflected on your own face. Foreign, but familiar enough to have warning bells ringing chaotically against your eardrums.

You clean off your bowl. Twice. He’s cocky about that too, eyeing you amusedly when you got up from your place before the fire to serve yourself seconds. You’re full and content when you’re all done. Sleep calling to you alongside the crackling fire and chirping crickets.

“I think it’s bedtime,” you say, pulling your knees to your chest, resting your chin on one as you blink at him. He’s leaning a shoulder against the fireplace, head lolled to the side and you conclude that he agrees with you, the lazy grin and drooping eyelids giving him away entirely.

“I think so too,” he nods, situating his body into an upright position and readjusting his pillow behind him. You take that as your cue to leave, and as you push yourself to your feet your foot catches on one of his blankets and you lose balance. You wobble sideways, the suddenness of the fall forcing your reaction to delay and you land in a kneel with Suguru’s hands holding your biceps and straddling his thigh. Your hands are steady on his shoulders, his shirt pinched between reactive fingers.

He chuckles, the warm breath hitting your already heated cheeks. You’re close enough that the tips of your noses brush each other and when you shift to remove yourself from him, his thigh tenses between your legs.

“Sorry,” you whisper, words escaping you as you fixate on his lips and the way his tongue darts across his plump bottom one.

“Don’t apologize,” he says, moving a centimeter closer to you. His hair tickles your cheek, his fingers tightening their grip on you as anticipation floods your senses.

“Don’t ever apologize to me,” he repeats, lips pressing to yours, wet and soft and scorching you to your core. Your hands fist the material of his shirt as you plaster yourself against his solid body. The warning bells that were sounding earlier are nothing but a distant vibration. The only thing you could possibly focus on now are his lips and the sinful way they are parting yours.

He wraps strong arms around your waist, molding your soft curves to the firm lines of his torso. It’s as if your body knows exactly what it wants but your brain has stuttered and buffered into a useless mess. Your hands found the braid he still had his hair in, and in a feat to regain some control you focused on unraveling it— your fingers getting lost in each thick strand and tugging.

You throw your leg over his other hip in an effort to stabilize your position, but you only succeed in reclining him. His loose hair now splayed out on the pillow beneath him as the kiss breaks and you're left panting against his lips. There’s a brief moment of hesitancy, where your body just hovers over him while you think this through. The act of indulging your deepest desires is too tempting to refuse. Especially when his hands find your hips and he squeezes them. It’s barely encouragement, but it’s enough to have you relaxing in his lap, feeling his hardening cock just through the thinnest layers of fabric.

He sighs, it’s deep and heavy, and sends sweet heat straight through you. And in a traitorous moment of tenderness, you glide your lips over his own and place a gentle kiss to his cheeks that are already warm to the touch. He tenses beneath you at the action and self doubt immediately floods your system. Until his hand finds the back of your neck, through the tresses of your hair, he wraps sure fingers around the back of your throat and guides you back into a kiss.

This one is desperate and hard. His teeth sink into your bottom lip, effortlessly pulling a wispy moan from you before he swallows it with his tongue. You reach beneath his shirt, eager to feel more of his skin against your palms and there’s a sharp inhale from him at the contact.

“Your hands are cold,” he murmurs across your mouth, a smile tugging the corners of his lips and you laugh breathlessly. Instead of responding, you push your hands further up his abdomen, leaving sloppy kisses across his jaw and down his neck. You stop when your fingertips meet his nipples, toying with them until he groans and bucks his hips in search of friction. You grind down, sighing at the relief before you sit up, hands firmly planted on his chest.

“What do you want?” You ask, stilling above his body, aching with need, but you also need to hear him say it. His hands hover over your thighs now, hesitance and something else reflecting in his dark irises as he stares at you. At the deep rise and fall of your chest, the strap of your dress hangs limply off of your shoulder.

“We don’t have t-,”

“Tell me what you want,” you cut him off, digging your fingertips a little harder into his chest, thighs shaking slightly from holding yourself over his hips.

He smiles, close lipped and lopsided, up at you. And instead of answering he slips his hands beneath the bunched up hem of your dress, slowly sliding them up your bare thighs, sending flurries of goosebumps across your skin.

“I can’t give you much,” he starts, fingers now grasping your bare hips and seating you in his lap again. “But I can give you this,” he rolls his hips, using his grip on you to grind you in the opposite direction. His cock rubbing directly against your clit and causing you to shudder. “And this is what I want. You’re what I want.”

“I better be,” you tease with a touch of too much sincerity lacing your tone. His smile widens and he drags you down once more before pulling the layers of fabric over your head.

“Fuck,” he whispers, hands hot and trailing over your now naked body. He caresses and presses his fingers into every soft curve until he’s folding you over his body again. One of his arms wrap around your waist while the other holds the back of your neck. You tilt your head to kiss him, but instead of his lips meeting yours, they bypass them altogether and suddenly there's a wet warmth around your nipple. His tongue flicks over it before biting down. Your fingers, still tangled beneath his shirt, scratch down his chest, a stuttered gasp falling from your lips and against his hair.

You're desperate to feel him, irritated by the clothing keeping that from you. And as he spends a distracting amount of time dragging his tongue across your breast, sucking and licking them until you're dripping onto his pants, you snake a hand between your bodies to palm at his dick. He groans at the contact, head falling back and eyes closing as you stroke him through them. You tug him up by the open collar of his shirt, a few buttons popping open from the force.

“Take this off,” you say, hand still working his cock as he stares at you with half-lidded eyes and blown out pupils. He reaches a hand behind his neck and tears it over his head in an instant. You rise, leaving just enough space for you to loosen the drawstring at his waist. When the fabric uncinches, he slips them down his thighs and kicks them off with practiced ease.

The layers are gone and you are left gasping in anticipation. You hold his cock in your hand now, gripping firmly before pumping it. He groans and when you look at him he’s watching your hand, face rosy from pleasure, the arms holding him up tensing. You line him up, but instead of placing him at your entrance you slip his length between your folds, the wetness making a sticky sound upon contact. He shudders, one arm giving out as he drops to an elbow while the other comes up to pinch at your nipple.

He lets you toy with him, lets you drag your clit down his shaft until you build yourself up. The first ripples of an orgasm muddle your brain and you slow your motions, refusing to come if it’s not when he’s fully seated inside of you. You swirl his head around your entrance, rocking down and back so that it pops inside.

He’s lying down on his back again, hands gripping your ass and he watches you use him. And when you slam down, a moan tearing from your lungs, his back bows and his fingers bruise your flesh.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he groans, lips wet and parted, swollen from the blood sucked into them. His whole body a blossoming red.

You bounce in his lap, indulging in the smacks of skin against skin. The heat from the fire now feels like it's burning your skin, but you don’t care. Not even in the slightest, especially when a firm slap meets your ass, the sting jolting you forward until you’re bent over his frame again. A hand fists the pillow beneath his head as he angles his thrusts to meet yours halfway. You’re unraveling quite rapidly in his lap and he knows it. He buries his face in your neck, kissing and sucking the sensitive skin at your ear.

“Is this all it takes?” The huskiness in his voice rakes down your spine, another resounding slap has your head falling, an involuntary whine pressing into his temple. His thumb finds your clit and your brain scrambles to connect when he even moved his arm from around your waist. He rubs sloppy circles, coaxing a release from you as his hips maintain their deep pace.

“You gonna come for me just like this?” He mouths into your ear and your body tenses, the breath in your lungs tripping over itself as you clutch the sheets in tight fists. You’re falling apart, your restraint fraying at the edges and it’s his fault. Everything is his doing— the feelings, the passion, the humanity.

And it all explodes behind your eyelids, sparks lighting up the black canvas of your sight as your release slams into you. You curl over his body, the intensity frightening you into a pleasure you’ve never felt before. You clench around him, his cock twitching inside of you as his pace quickens and his feet are firmly planted on the ground beneath you. His thrusts are jerky and uncoordinated, the desperation of it all lengthening your orgasm until you’re at the cusp of pain. It’s partial delirium, the way his body overwhelms yours– your mind nothing but fleeting moments of him flashing across it.

His grip is back to clutching your body, his hips stilling and a breathy shout of your name is kissed into your shoulder. Your breathing is erratic, an inhale for every one of his exhales. The heat of his cum inside of you has you shivering despite the still crackling fire and sweat coating your skin. He pets down your sides, a content sigh wisps passed your ear and a satisfied smile graces your face.

You roll off of him, a hiss sucking through his teeth as his cock slips out. He stays on his back, holding out an arm for you to curl into his side. In moments like these you typically strike your prey. They always have such a resounding vulnerability afterwards that it’s difficult not to take advantage. But as you relax your head onto his chest, the steady rise and falls lulling you into a false sense of security, the words that slip from your lips are shocking even to you.

“Stay with me,” you say, intentions clear and when he does not answer, the status of prey falls over your head and you’re left to wonder if you are the one being hunted.

Rain falls in a rage against your rooftop. The fire beside you has been snuffed out and you’re alone as dawn breaks. Something is off. And for the second time you awaken in a flurry of stress. The cottage is darker than usual from the dense clouds shrouding out the sun from reaching your island. Things are slightly askew, your carefully placed belongings, just as carefully shifted.

You rummage through the sheets to look for your clothes, slipping the dress over your head as you rush outside. It is starkly reminiscent of the day that Suguru arrived. Except the adrenaline coursing through you isn’t the thrill you’re accustomed to. It’s a building cacophony of nauseating defeat.

The rain is freezing against your skin, soaking through your linens instantly as the downpour ceases to let up. You blindly head towards the shore, your feet guiding you through the island you know like the palm of your hand.

You trudge through wet sand, your feet sinking with every hurried step until the beach is in sight. Along with Suguru’s ship, sails flying high and flapping dangerously in the wind. He comes stumbling out of a grove nearby, hands clinging a small pouch to his chest as he braves the storm.

You stare disbelievingly as he heads your way, his face tilted towards the ground. And just as he’s a few feet away, his eyes flicker up and he notices you— frozen in the sheets of rain that pummel down. He startles, but not in his body, his eyes the only thing giving it away.

“I’m leaving,” he says, eyes hardened and the conviction in his voice hitting you like a tidal wave.

“You can't,” because he can’t leave. Not now, not ever. You would rather watch the world burn than lose him. Would rather drown in the endless ocean in front of you before you voluntarily let him walk away.

“I have to,” he shakes his head, stepping away from you, carving out pieces of your splintering heart and crushing them beneath his feet.

“You don't.”

It’s then that you recognize what he’s carrying, what he’s holding like treasure against his beating heart. There’s dirt underneath his fingernails, smeared across his soaked sleeves, and an anguished rage claws its way through your body.

“Those are mine,” you say, matching every step he takes backwards with a forward step of your own. “My herbs that you’re stealing from me.”

“I told you,” he says, a hand reaches behind his back, but you can’t concentrate. Not when your heart is no longer in your chest and you’re cursing yourself for being so stupid, so naive. “I told you I couldn’t give you what you wanted. I can’t love you.”

“Why not? You loved me fine just a few hours ago.”

Something burns in your chest, hot and icky. It scratches down your esophagus, your stomach churning with acidity. It’s probably been centuries since you’ve felt this way, centuries of burying emotions and forcing them to evolve into something powerful, something productive. But now it’s all rising to the surface, and you can’t figure out if Suguru’s form is blurred from the downpour or from your vision coating with repressed desolation.

“That wasn’t love and you know it. Love is something I can never give you because my love belongs to someone else,” his words are riddled with finality. The truth slicing wicked lacerations into your soul.

“It wasn’t an accident that I landed here. There were rumors of a sorceress who grew herbs with magical properties on an island south of mine. These are what I came here for.” He finally holds the pouch out in front of him, shakes them in your direction, willing you to understand that you were never what he wanted. Not forever, anyway.

“I wasn’t expecting for you to be… you.”

You’re caught off guard by the softness of his tone, the last word almost inaudible from the waves crashing against the shore. You start closing the distance between you two and he stands ground, watching you through squinting eyes as you fist his shirt in shaking hands.

“I won’t let you leave,” you shove at him, your voice cracking from the strain of holding back emotions that are sending you reeling. “You really think after everything I’d let you go! I’d let you just leave me!”

You start to tug on his clothes, mustering every bit of strength to drag him back into the cottage. Where you’ll relight the fire and pretend like none of this ever happened. You are willing to forget this moment, its insignificance easily lost in threads of time. But he pushes at you, brute force knocking whatever air you had left in your lungs and the hand he had tucked behind his back now brandishes a dagger. One that’s jagged, metal barely glinting in the stray bits of light shining overhead.

“I have to save him!” He’s pointing the tip right at your chest and a stone the size of your heart sinks into your stomach. “You don’t understand and I doubt you ever will. But this is something I have to do.”

There’s no convincing him, especially when he’s willing to kill you for it. The knife, unwavering in his grasp, was evidence enough of that.

“If you go. I will only allow you one thing. To save his life.” You resign to a last resort, blackmailing him with a heartbreak similar to your own hoping he will take the bait. “But once that is done any love he ever held for you will be gone. He will never be yours because you are mine.”

He rolls his shoulders back, stance strong and immovable. “That’s a sacrifice I’m willing to take.”

You choke out a bitter laugh, not able to wrap your head around his idiocy. And it only reminds you of how feeble minded mortality is.

“You’re naive.”

“No,” he takes a step away again and this time you don’t follow. You let him walk off his own plank of hopelessness. “I'm human. Who’s faith in humanity has been tested and tried over and over again. There’s nothing that will restore what I lost, but if I can save the only person who tethers me to this godforsaken world, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“I’ll curse you,” you bite out emptily, defeat weighing you down. Your eyes are burning with unshed tears, your throat closing up. Your own body betrays you as it succumbs to such pathetic feelings.

He drops his arm back to his side, sensing the fight you so strongly held fast to wash away. There’s a fierceness in his gaze, one that’s mixed with gross sympathy. You ball your hands into fists at your sides, determined to wear your mask of indifference until he's gone, a victim of the sea instead of yours.

“Do your worst,” he says, turning then towards his ship that’s anchored to your shores. In what feels like one second yet and eternity, he’s sailing away. The sight of his dripping shirt and thick black strands clumped together in a single braid bring you back to that very first day. The day where it felt like the world landed at your feet. A game you knew so well ready to begin again. Only for the board to be flipped upside down, the pieces captured and discarded.

You fall to your knees. The tears that were impatiently waiting, flowing freely and rapidly. Your fingers curl into the wet sand before a scream tears through your vocal cords. A screech rivaling that of the wild sea and whipping lightning sting your lungs, exposing you for what you truly are.

The ground quakes. And it’s indiscernible whether it’s from the storm rioting around you or the wails vibrating outside of your skin. Regardless, this ache is just a sliver of your eternity, but your resentment will be forever.

#highseascollab #getou suguru x reader #getou fanfic #getou smut #pirate au #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #kari’s writing🔆

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lady-lunaaa · 3 years ago

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This is gonna be long and I'm not sorry about it.

What a beautiful opening to a beautiful story. I absolutely adore the small details you grace us with (readers "girly" headscarves, pirate toilet habits) it really immersed me in the AU from the get go. I felt a part of every moment. And readers background only adds to this, it's amazing. I love she is a stowaway noble on an adventure, ready to chart her own course! Sets the story perfectly.

I have to mention the gambling element, holy shit I read that scene in awe because of this rowdy, tense atmosphere you have created (plus Sano's banter, he's such a cheeky shit and I'm living for it). When he hit her I physically winced and my heart was hammering when he realised her secret. That whole sequence was incredible. I also appreciated the lil detail that everyone lets her winning slide because she feeds them decent, hot meals. Again the tiniest of details just had me buzzing with excitement!

Him slowly falling for her ignites my soul, it's so well done, you are a master at character pov. When he protects her from the drunk shipmate OH MY GOD! Heart racing all over again, your dialogue is insane. You got that drunk as a skunk, casual homophobia vibe down and I felt sick.

I have to include one of my favourite parts, because of how beautifully it's written:

But most of all, he loves the fire inside of you, the one you refuse to extinguish. He still has no idea why you're here, on this boat, but he knows—just knows that it's probably because someone tried to extinguish that fire. And he will do anything in his power to help keep that fire alive inside of you.

This made me gooey and ache, in all the good ways, such stunning imagery throughout the romantic scenes and ohhhh the tension ~

THE "I'M GOING TO KISS YOU NOW"!!!!! HELP ME. AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH.

"If we can't be together forever, can we at least have today?"

PLEASE, YOU ARE KILLING ME. God, I love him and your writing 🥺

And that fucking ending adsfshdhfkgllll "LAND APPROACHING!" I am enamoured. I am struck dumb. The perfect cliffhanger! I love an open-end with that dash of uncertainty and pain.

Just a thousand times well done, I will never get over this ever.

Paring: Sanosuke Sagara x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Female presenting reader hiding gender, discussion of arranged marriage, discussion of societal gender roles, cursing, punching/fighting, Sanosuke punches reader (when he thinks she’s a male), Sano antagonizes reader, talks of pirates not being the best to women, alcohol, reader is shorter than the other crew members, one crew member being a total asshole, asshole crew member says some things that are a hint homophobic, incorrect pirate knowledge, pet names: baby, pretty girl and missy, soft smut (male receiving oral, vaginal sex), not necessarily a happy ending. Pretty sure that is all of them, if I missed any please let me know

Word Count: 13.8k (I'm so sorry)

A/N: This is part of Pocket Friends' High Seas Collab, check out the masterlist So I know this is an absolutely dead fandom but I've loved Sano since I was like 12 years old and it just felt right picking him for this. Thank you so much to my wife, my love, my beta, and my cheerleader, @lady-lunaaa this piece wouldn't exist without you and I still read over how your screaming and it makes me smile. I cannot thank you enough

Ocean waves smash against the weathered side of the boat you currently call your home. The not-so-gentle rocking of the waves is causing your stomach to churn around. Sunlight beats down harshly on your head, and it's times like these you wish you had packed another scarf to protect your irritated scalp. You had lost your only one shortly after boarding your floating prison. You had left the rest of them behind because of the small embroidered flowers or notes of pink or purple adorning them. They would be a sure giveaway to your gender that you desperately were trying to hide.

But you wish someone had told you how hard it is to hide your female body on a pirate ship of all places. It seems that men had no personal space, or at least these men didn't. For example, after holding your bladder all day and finally waiting until the dead of night to sneak out to the bow to relieve yourself, someone would always be waiting to relieve themselves next, or if they were really bold, just saddle up next to you. The list goes on and on from there of how you always have to mask who you really are.

But anything, even the daily turmoil of being discovered. Even the seasickness that you were sure would have disappeared by now. Even dealing with the backbreaking toil of being a ship hand. All of that is better than being forced to marry a man who would save your family from debt— a man twice your age who wouldn't consider you as more than just a housewife to warm his bed and cook his meals. Nope, you weren't going to live that life. You were meant to travel, to explore what the world had to offer, not to play house just so your father could get out of his gambling debts.

You couldn't merely get on a boat and escape, though; regular sails required documentation, and your to-be fiance (not that you wanted to call him that) was well connected and would stop you the moment he got word of your getaway. So your only other option was left with a less than savory group of individuals. Ones that wouldn't care what your background was.

That's how you ended up here, on this vessel filled with smelly, non-boundary respecting pirates. You disguise yourself as a man by wrapping bandages around your chest and stealing some of your older brother's clothing to fit the look of a young adult male. Thankfully, you convinced the captain that you would be helpful on deck by flaunting your food preparation skills even with the limited resources. The captain was quickly confident you would be valuable but told you that he expected you to help with daily labor.

At this point, you had only been on board for about a week into your month-long journey to a place where you could hopefully escape and start a new life. You planned to slip away as soon as the ship docked and never turn back. When things would get dicey, you would just escape again. Or at least, that was the plan you had right now.

When not cooking, cleaning, or doing manual labor, you were able to find some ways to pass the time with your fellow crew members. And one of the most common ways that everyone on board liked to participate in was gambling. It was a simple game of odds-and-evens with dice. One person would roll the dice while another would call for an odd or even. Whatever the two small pieces showed determined the winner. Strange how such a simple game would occupy people for hours, but you imagined the rum and promise of money was more important than entertainment value.

You had been able to smuggle a fair amount of money with you during your escape from selling family jewelry, needing as much money as possible when you landed to start a life of your own until you found a job that would bring in some cash. But you had decided to risk some at the possibility of winning more; maybe gambling ran in your veins because the game pulled you in like a moth to a flame.

Whether it was lady luck finally hearing your pleas for help or if you had skill with this game, you would never know. Despite that, what you did see was that night after night, in that cramped area below the main deck filled with rowdy men, was that you continued to win. You had lost a few rounds, of course, but the majority was in your favor. It sent a thrill through your veins every time your call was correct.

Thankfully, no one had really retaliated at your constantly growing winnings. Your fellow players would complain or say something profane, but you never had to argue for your winnings. Most of the crew actually liked you because you could fill their stomachs with somewhat substantial meals rather than the cold gruel they had been subjected to for most of their trips. They let your winnings slide for the most part because at least they were getting a good meal.

But on this dark cloudless night, your luck ran out. You were seated across from one of the tallest individuals on the ship. He had to be over six feet, and his spiky brown hair just added to that height. Sitting cross-legged, a lanky body looming over the tiny dice in his large hand sat Sanosuke Sagara or Sano, as most of the men called him. He was one of the musclemen on the ship, a convicted criminal who proved his worth by doing heavy lifting or giving out powerful punches when under attack. He had a mess of wild mahogany brown hair that stuck out from all sides and intense brown eyes that felt like they were shooting through your soul as they gazed at you from across the table.

He was an intriguing individual. Sanosuke was serious about not changing his attire to fit the pirate lifestyle. While he carried around an old battered brown cloak, he hardly ever wore it. His regular day-to-day outfit consisted of a thin white open jacket adorned with fraying black trim with the symbol for "evil" on his back and matching white pants. Sanosuke seems vehemently against shirts because his chest is always bare. You wondered how he could stand the constant sunburns that would eventually turn his toned chest into a more golden tan. But he never complained about it; he worked hard and endlessly unless he was getting drunk and gambling below deck. The final piece of his attire is a long red headband wrapped around his head, the edges long and frayed as they lay on his back.

Many had asked him to explain his odd clothing; he would always skirt around the answer, though. The only time you ever saw him become serious was when someone tried to touch that red headband adorned on his head. One very drunk crewmember once made a grab for it after Sanosuke had beaten him out of all his winnings. And while you had seen Sano move quickly despite his tall frame, this time, he moved like lightning. He grabbed the offending hand that was wrapped onto the red cloth, and from what you heard from those who had seen Sano's face, he gave a look that would make the dead shiver in their graves.

Tonight though, Sanosuke wore a cocky smirk that was fueled by alcohol as he gazed into your eyes. You wouldn't let him scare you away, though; you had a good feeling about tonight—you were going to take everything the towering man had. Sending your own snarky smirk back to Sanosuke, you drop a brown leather bag that was previously sinking in your hand due to the weight of the coins inside. You placed down a reasonably large sum tonight, not all of your money—you weren't stupid. But enough to make Sanosuke's eyes light up as the bag hits the table with a thud.

"Well, well, well, feeling risky tonight, are we?" he drawls out as his eyes scan the bag sitting on the beat-up table between the two of you. His eyes flash up to meet yours again, intimidating and cat-like, masking whatever his actual thoughts were as he fingers the dice between two long digits. Sanosuke had already placed down what you were sure were all of his winnings over time. Whether he won or lost, he always boasted in a go big or go home sense. His smug attitude made you want to smack him sometimes.

You clear your throat to lower the octave of your voice and respond, "Yeah, I am, so shut up and roll the dice, I call evens." You hold his gaze, refusing to back down from him. Weakness potentially could lead to death here. Not immediately, but others were quick to leave you behind if they sensed you couldn't hold your own. It was a dog-eat-dog world, and only the strongest survived. And while you were mentally strong, you couldn't always compete with the physical strength of the pirates.

"Alright then, shrimp." Sanosuke grins as he demeans you with the nickname. His tone is full of snark, and you know his statement is meant to taunt you.

Keeping your eyes steady with his, you ignore the name-calling; it wouldn't get you anywhere to react. Your mind, though, can't stop the snarky response— of course, you were shorter than him; practically everyone else was on the ship. What a poor attempt at a taunt.

"Just roll Sano," you let out with a grunt; you could feel a headache starting to form from the aroma of rum mixed with the sea salt air. You just wanted to finish this and then head to your bunk to sleep off your weary bones and aching body.

"Alrighty, shrimp! Let's get this started," He says as he tilts his neck from side to side, his body letting out a large crack with each movement.

After his theatrics, you watch his every movement like a hawk. You wouldn't put it past him to cheat.

Sanosuke picks up the beaten and old clay cup from the wooden table and slips the dice in effortlessly. You are too focused on the movements of his hands that you miss the way he doesn't take his eyes away from the stern look on your face.

Sanosuke was always puzzled by you. You were quiet, much smaller than every other man on this ship; you didn't act like a child or a young adult despite your looks. You knew how to cook, and you kept to yourself for the most part. Your hands looked like they hadn't worked a day in their life before this boat, and your skin was free of scars that typically adorned people who decided to follow this line of work. He usually prided himself on figuring others out quickly, but you gave more questions than answers. You were hiding something; he just had to find out what.

And tonight was the night he planned to do just that; whether he won or not, he was going to get a reaction out of you and see just what you were made of. Covering the cup's opening with his hand, Sanosuke flipped the cup and shook it along with the dice inside, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Feeling the two small pieces inside jostle around, he stopped shaking after a few seconds and moved his hand and the cup towards the table.

Your eyes met his again, and the anticipation in the room was palpable. Sano slides the cup and his hand effortlessly onto the table and then removes his hand from below the cup as it makes a soft clink as its lip meets the table. "What was your call again, shrimp?" That smirk on his face grows wider.

You knew he was baiting you; he didn't forget your choice that quickly. Sanosuke is far from an idiot; you knew this after watching him this first week. But you didn't plan to play into this little back and forth game he seemed to love to torment others with.

"Evens," you say in a firm voice, eyes never straying from his hazelnut-colored stare.

That smirk he's sporting doesn't falter at your noncompliance to his prodding. He's set on winning more than just the gold in these baggies tonight. His real prize would be something more than your stone-faced expression. He wanted to see you break. Sano moves to grab the cup and pulls it quickly up off of the dice.

And there they are, sitting in all their glory, four blacked-out circles on one and two on the other. You aren't sure if it's the rum you had earlier or that the smirk had finally fallen off of Sanouske's face that fuels the following action, but it would change the course of your future.

"HA!" You yell as your composed facade falls and move your hand to quickly grab your winnings.

But just as quickly as your hand moved, Sanosuke's was faster. His hand wraps around your wrist just as your fingers clench around the bag holding his previous winnings. You snap your head up to glare at him intensely, but you meet that infuriating smirk again.

Your mind starts to race— Why is he smiling? Shouldn't he be going off to sulk? He damn sure shouldn't look so smug.

You try to tug your hand away from his grasp, but it's no use. His massive hand engulfs your wrist with a vice-like grip. Panic starts to flood your brain— this is not how things were supposed to go. "Let go," you let out through gritted teeth. Your eyes are still hyper-focused on his, never separating. You feel like a hare about to be eaten, but you know you can't back down.

With a slight tug from Sanosuke, you lose your balance and fall forward into the table. Your body hits the hard wood, and you can tell your skin will ache with a bruise the next day from the impact. The old clay cup goes crashing onto the floor and shatters. The dice are also thrown off by the clash of your body and the table. Two bags of coins land with a thump right at your feet. There's a rowdiness in the air now; other crew members are starting to shout and jeer at the scene, driven by their own liquid courage.

This is not what you wanted, your plan was to be as inconspicuous as possible, but now that smug bastard had brought the entire ship's attention to the two of you. Anger bubbles up inside of you. An explosion is threatening to spill from your grimaced lips. Deep behind that anger, though, is fear— fear of being found out, of being sent home to marry a man that would only use you. But what fuels that volcanic eruption inside of you is that stupid fucking smirk Sanosuke never let falter as he watched you crash into the table. His smug face only showed that you had played directly into his hand. And that's when the composure you worked so hard to hold for a week came crashing apart.

With the fall, Sanosuke had let go of your wrist. You quickly get up and maneuver to your feet; rage is seeping out of you. When your eyes meet his brown ones, a renewed fire sparks inside of you. You wish your glare could melt him from the tip of his stupid hair down to his ridiculously long legs. "What the hell was that, Sanosuke?" You roar, struggling to keep your voice low, but your body is shaking from anger. It's the only emotion left inside of you, and it's far from acting rationally at this point.

You wouldn't have guessed that the smirk on Sanosuke's face could grow more expansive, but it does when he hears the words coming from you. He got exactly what he wanted. He's chipped your armor, and now he was going to break the rest of it down. "Well, shrimp, looks like ya had too much to drink. That was a nasty fall," he snickers as he continues to poke at you.

If anger was sweat, it would be pouring from your body right now. You want to smack that dumb smirk right off Sanosuke's face. And before you can second guess that thought, you're moving. Scrambling towards the towering man, your hand closes, making a tight fist. You don't think you've ever actually punched someone before, but you don't care as you funnel all your strength into your hand to make contact with the man's cheek.

Sanosuke hardly budges when your fist meets his face. You aren't sure what you expected—to be honest, you weren't expecting anything; you were just acting on emotion. If you had thought things through, you would've remembered the number of fights you've watched him in. You would have recalled that he hardly budged when men taller and stronger than you punched him. So how was your punch going to do a thing? But you didn't think, and now he had you even further in his snare. There was no way out now.

Sanosuke was lightning fast as he moved to his own feet and threw a punch into your stomach. The impact knocks the wind out of you as you fly directly into the wooden floorboards. Your back screams at you, and again, you know there will be a nasty bruise on your body.

"Alright! This is what I'm talking about! You've got to have more than that, come on!" He yells, a sinister grin on his face. This was the Sanosuke many knew, the fighter for hire. His high came from the impact of a punch or the shedding of blood.

The fire in his eyes ignited as he watched you struggle to get into a sitting position. He was ready for a fight, ecstatic he was able to finally break you. But then something unexpected caught his eye. Your worn brown shirt had torn at the collar at some point during the shuffle. Instead of the smooth skin and pectoral muscles he expected to see, he saw white bandages starting to slowly unravel and under those bandages were the outline of— his eyes widened, everything connecting into place. The reason why you were so secretive, why you were so much smaller than the others, and why you had skills that none of them had.

Shame floods through him. Sanosuke couldn't deny he was a brute, that's for sure, but he didn't hit women. It was against his honor code. He never would have messed with you if he knew. Thoughts are flying through his head as he tries to come up with something to make the situation better.

It dawns on him that he wasn't supposed to know this about you because, for sure, no one else on this ship knows. This place was filled with unsavory individuals, and unfortunately, women didn't last long on pirate voyages. Most men saved their urges when the boat docked, but Sanosuke knew of a few who would pounce on a female if they knew she was on this boat. And that definitely wouldn't have been kept quiet.

Thankfully, his figure was looming over yours, shielding parts of your breast that had been exposed from the eyes of the rowdy men. Sanosuke realized he had to act quickly before anyone else saw. He shrugged out of his jacket and dropped the worn material over your chest. "Everyone out! It looks like shrimp couldn't take much of a punch. Nothing else to see," he bellows the command adding on a hearty laugh. The crew is quiet and grumbles because the fight finished quickly. But no one was stupid enough to challenge Sanosuke unless they wanted a beating of their own.

You struggle beneath the fabric of the jacket to get up. But your legs refuse to cooperate. You feel like a young fawn struggling to take its first steps. This isn't how this was supposed to go. You had to prove your worth. These words flashed through your mind as you tried to push yourself up.

You kept moving until you heard a quiet hiss from the man standing above you, "Stay down." You were surprised by the urgency in his tone, cocky attitude from before completely gone.

Lifting your eyes, you met the tall figure with confusion since just moments before, he had put you on the ground with his fists. Sanosuke's tan and taut torso casts a shadow over your figure in the dim lights of the room. Your eyes quickly moved past his torso to his face, meeting his brown eyes again. His expression is not what you would have expected. Concern is laced in his features and punctuated by his furrowed brow. You don't understand the shift in the mood. Sanosuke was relentless when he fought, so why was this any different? Why did he stop the fight? Where did that cocky street fighter go?

Finally, the last crew member shuffles out of the room, and Sano lets out a breath that had been trapped inside of him. You observe as his hand moves to his forehead, and he runs it through his hair; stress is etched in his features. You try to prepare your body to escape. Every nerve is firing with anticipation and preparing you to fight or flee. Your eyes grow wide as the lithe man before you bends down into a crouch so that you are face to face.

"What the fuck are you doing on this boat, missy?"

Your face crumples in confusion at the new nickname. It doesn't make sense why Sanosuke was calling you that— it was when you finally realized the disarray of your clothing, ripped shirt, tattered bandages, and if it weren't for his jacket, your cleavage would be on display. Clutching his coat tighter to your frame, you're thankful he ended up dropping the article of clothing on you when he did.

"Are you-? What-?" Sanosuke lets out a huff as he tries to find the right words. A sharp exhale escapes him as he gathers himself. "Do you want to die? This is not the place for any woman," he's finally able to finish, the stress still evident in his tone.

You are quick to spit back at him, wanting him to know that you aren't going to back down quietly. "What does it matter to you? Keep your mouth shut, and we won't have any issues." You poke your pointer finger in his face as you punctuate the keep your mouth shut bit. But you can't hide your frustration in your voice. You have worked hard to keep this secret, meet the demands that the other men also had to meet, and now it was out in the open with this loud-mouth.

He was right, though, as much as you hated to admit it. You probably wouldn't make it off alive if others found out. You still had at least a month left on this journey and no escape besides the deep depths below. As a child, the rumors of pirate ships scared you of how cruel and ruthless they were. And while not everyone was that way here, most of them did not care about anyone but themselves.

"Hey hey hey, stop that now. Cool it," Sanosuke says in a bit of a gentler tone while placing one of his large hands on your shoulder as he responds to your defensive tone. The weight and warmth of it almost feels good; if your mind wasn't in a panic, you might actually welcome his touch; it's the first time you've been gently touched by someone since you made your escape. "I'm not going to tell your secret, I may not be a saint, but I won't put your life in danger."

You can't help but narrow your eyes at him. There's no way he doesn't want something in return. Your mind immediately starts creating the many scenarios you know you might have to do to keep him quiet.

"Bullshit, what's in it for you?" You challenge him defiance and venom weaved throughout your tone.

His expression softens a bit, and a big smile grows on his face, one that makes his eyes close and crinkle at the sides. He moves the hand from your shoulder and places it on top of your head, and moves it back and forth to ruffle your hair. "You're a spitfire, aren't ya, missy?"

You move your free hand to push away his large one off of your head. "Don't talk to me like I'm a child! Just tell me what you want so we can get it done and move on." You avert your eyes from his knowing full well what most men want on this boat.

It's what they don't get until they reach land, horny bastards. You've heard them talking during meals about what they'll look for when they arrive, the type of women they plan to seek out. And the discussions dissolve into much more nasty things from there. So many things you wish you hadn't heard. But nonetheless, hopefully, this would be a one-time thing, and you could move on from it. Maybe he wouldn't even want full sex; perhaps he'd like a blow job and then leave you alone. You could only hope you were so lucky.

A confused look passes Sanosuke's face, and it takes a moment for him to realize what you're alluding to. "Hey, hey! No! I don't want anything from you." Lifting up his hands in front of his shoulder, palms facing you as a nervous laugh escapes him.

You're still skeptical, though, as you look at him through squinted eyes. Trusting people could be the downfall for you. You couldn't afford to let your guard down. Plus, the people here didn't treat others well without ulterior motives.

Sanosuke picks up on your hesitancy by the look in your eyes—like a frightened cat, ready to strike. His tongue moves out to wet his lips, a nervous habit he's had since he was a child. "Look, okay," a sigh escapes him, "the only thing I want in return is an explanation. Is that fair?"

Your eyes study the tall man still squatting in front of you. While this was obviously a better outcome for you, you also were incredibly reluctant to release any information to anyone on this boat. It would be an easy way for these men to make a quick monetary value, to offer you back to your fiance for a coin. Hell, you'd probably do it if you were one of them too, easy money and no backlash.

Sanosuke watches you just as carefully; it appears like a thousand thoughts are flying through your mind, your face is stuck between hostility and contemplation.

Every moment of silence causes concern to creep up inside him. "Okay, how about you tell me eventually? How does that sound?" He's gentler with his technique, now dropping his voice to a lower and calmer tone than how he usually speaks. It hits him like a ton of bricks that your attitude is just like Karou's back home. And he knows that if she was in this predicament, he'd want someone to care for her instead of hurting her, to show her kindness. He also can empathize with your feelings, that wall you are holding up. He used to have one too. Sanosuke wishes someone would have shown him compassion in those moments, that someone would have let him tell his secrets on his own time instead of forcing them out.

Your eyes soften just for a moment as you hold his gaze. He sounds genuine to you, but you are still uncertain. But you know that staying here in a staring contest wouldn't really help either of you. So you concede, begrudgingly. "Fine, just don't you dare bring it up around anyone else." Your finger is in his face again, threatening, hoping you sound tough enough.

Sanosuke grins at you again, hearing the fire in your tone. His heart is aching for his found family back home. "Alright, missy, that's fine. You're secret is safe with me, I promise." He moves into a standing position towering over you again, his bones cracking as he straightens himself.

You move to get up on your own, your body yelling in protest from the hit you had taken. Surprise overtakes you when Sanosuke extends one of his large hands out to you. Studying his palm, you can see the years of fighting and work etched into them. Bruised and ripped skin on his knuckles from punches, scars from battle, and tan skin from the sun that beats down on all of you daily. It's beautiful really, the story his hand can tell just but the marks on it. So different from yours, from years of living the life of a noble, unblemished, boring in comparison to Sanosuke's hand.

You grasp his hand and, for the first time, show vulnerability and allow him to help you up. And just as you marveled in Sanosuke's hand, he noticed how yours was different from his too. He admired how soft it was and how gentle the touch of your skin was on his calloused palm. It felt so right on his ragged palm, like a softness he didn't know he needed had touched him, like a petal gracing a pond. Heat begins to rise to his face as he holds your small delicate hand in his own, and Sanosuke finds himself surprised but also incredibly intrigued. That was the moment he knew he had to learn more about you.

Life after Sanosuke found out you were a woman was interesting, to say the least. You tried to dodge him whenever you could, hoping that by doing this long enough, he would either forget or the boat would reach land, and you could disappear. What you didn't expect was that Sano would try to build a friendship with you.

At mealtimes, he would sit his imposing figure right next to you and start to converse about the day. Or he would find you during the evening as you sat on the deck staring out into the endless stars; again, he would sit next to you and try to talk to you. Your quiet nights were forever interrupted now.

Sanosuke always asked questions, and surprisingly enough, it wasn't even about why you were on the ship. It was random things What do you like to do off the boat? Where is your family from? But the most intrusive question that ended up catching you completely off guard was— Do you have a guy waiting for you when you get off?

The shock that went through you when he asked immobilized you for a moment. Why would he even care, you wondered. Relationships and romance weren't really what flourished here on board. If anything, the men only talked about sex. That was the extent of romance that happened here. And while Sanosuke had the most chivalry out of the men, his demeanor didn't really scream romantic.

When you questioned him about why he wanted to know that of all things, he just shrugged and looked up into the vast night sky. After what seemed like ages, he finally responded with, "I just want to know you more."

An array of feelings flooded you at that moment. Nervousness at why Sanosuke wanted to know more about you. Hesitancy because you were starting to trust him, and you didn't want your walls to come down any more than you've already let them. And probably the scariest feeling of them all because you couldn't explain why— but you felt excitement. A small thrill rushed through you knowing he wanted to learn more about you.

Because to be completely honest, you wanted to know more about him too. You had been watching him closely after the gambling night incident. It started as just keeping an eye out to see if he would betray you, or worse, physically hurt you. But you began to notice so much about him that you had never seen before.

First, he was very attractive. Before the incident, you didn't allow yourself to focus on the boat's men in that way. Of course, there were plenty of well-built men on the ship. But you had been more focused on your goal of escape, and there was no way you were going to have a relationship with a pirate. Or so you thought before Sanosuke wiggled his way into your life.

But Sanosuke seemed to be a whole different breed of man. He was the tallest on the ship, which made him stand out a little more, along with the attire he chose to wear. But beyond that, he was built as if he was sculpted out of marble. He tended to remove his open jacket when working, and you had caught yourself staring at his tan, sweat-covered, toned stomach more often than you wanted to admit. His outfit left little to the imagination, but with his jacket off, you could see every taut muscle flex as he pulled the ropes for the sail with his large hands. Broad and robust shoulders left you speechless as they curved under the sun.

The second thing you begin to notice about Sanosuke is that he has a softness inside him behind the hard exterior. He jokes with practically everyone on the ship or greets everyone with a smile or some sort of joke.

It was intriguing to watch him interact with others. His past and history of wins brought him respect. But he also created relationships with others, whether it was a simple wave or getting into a full-blown conversation. Everyone knew Sanosuke Sagara here. But even more than getting along with everyone, he was kind. Rugged but kind is the best way you could describe him. When he saw someone struggling, he would take the extra weight. You lost count at the number of times now you saw him carry someone else's barrel below deck or when he would take someone else's job if they were too exhausted by the beating sun.

And that kindness extended to you as well. You weren't sure if it was because Sanosuke knew you were a woman or if it was just in his nature. But after the gambling night incident, he began to grab your heavier sacks of food, slinging them over his muscular shoulder and carrying it to the kitchen for you.

At first, you snapped at him, "I've got it; I don't need your help; you're going to draw attention."

Sanosuke would always respond with a grin that spread across his face like wildfire and motion for you to follow him with his free hand with an "I got ya, missy." After so many times of the same response, you finally gave up, but you couldn't ignore the little pang in your heart when he called you the pet name he had just for you. You didn't want to admit he affected you this way; this isn't how you wanted things to go. There was even less of a future for you if you were around a convicted criminal once you made it to land. Even though you would never admit it, Sanosuke became one of your favorite parts of the day.

You became more intrigued by him every day. And so, while he wanted to know you more, you had to admit to yourself you wanted to learn more about him as well. You wanted to know why he wore the "bad" symbol on his back, what his red headband meant and why it meant so much to him; a deep part of you also wanted to know if he had someone waiting for him too.

Heart aching to know this tall, mysterious man more, you began to let down your own walls. The first thing you told him was your real name. Sanosuke tested it on his tongue, and you wanted to urge him to say it more but held back. You told him you enjoyed reading and cooking at home. He responded with a low whistle at you and a comment about how you must have had some schooling since you knew how to read. Cursing yourself, you realized you were letting him learn more about you than you had initially expected to give away.

You tried over and over to keep to yourself, to hold yourself back, to respond indifferently. But over and over, Sanosuke came to you with his warm personality, his joking tone that would turn serious when he really wanted to know something about you, and your walls crumbled like a clay pot hitting the ground.

Eventually, you told him that no one was waiting for you, sheepishly, very quiet, and you wondered if he even heard you over the waves smashing into the ship.

He must have because he responded with a slight smile, head still tilted to the stars and a hum.

Gathering your own courage, you asked him the same, moving your eyes away from his profile to stare at the stars so you wouldn't have to meet his eyes. You weren't sure what you would do if he said yes— that someone was waiting for him. Absolutely, you wouldn't be heartbroken, but you didn't want to feel the pain thrum in your chest if he did have someone. You'd much rather ignore all of those feelings, stuff them so far down you don't ever have to visit them.

Sanosuke let out a hearty chuckle at your question, which surprises you and brings your attention back to his face. He's looking at you now, chestnut brown eyes staring into the deepest parts of you. "Ah, so you want to know about me now too?" He jests as his laugh turns into that smirk that infuriated you just a short time ago.

Embarrassment floods through you and then annoyance; How dare he make fun of me for asking the same thing. "Forget it then, I don't care," you let out in a huff crossing your arms over your chest and turning your head towards the sea.

"Wait, come on, don't be that way!" Sanosuke quickly backtracks, reaches out one of his hands, and places it on your shoulder with a light shake.

You can't help the grin that grows as he begins to beg for you to give him another chance. Turning back to him, you realize he's scooted much closer to you during the exchange, and you can feel your heart begin to thrum in your ears. His nose practically touches yours, your eyes are locked together, and you can feel his breath just a beat away from your own.

Your eyes are wide as he begins to speak his answer in a soft voice, "It's just me against the world, missy. Unless that's something you want to change."

Heart pounding, you open your mouth to retort, but nothing comes. It's like you were stuck at a fork between two paths. Neither of them is straight or easy to navigate anymore. One way leads you down a relationship you can't really grow in, stuck forever on this ship. The other path denies the feelings that have started to rumble deep inside you.

You aren't sure what comes over you when your brain tells you to move forward. Without another moment of hesitation, your lips delicately touch Sanosuke's. Both of your lips are chapped from the lack of care. But still, feel so tender and soft once they meet. Sanosuke meets your energy with soft and gentle movements of his own. Skilled like a musician who knows exactly how to play his instrument.

The kiss is brief; it wouldn't be a fun story to explain if someone stumbled upon the two of you. Relief and contentment wash over you afterward. After watching Sanosuke for the past week, you've come to see him as more than another crew member. It's like everything that had been brewing inside of you finally had an outlet through the kiss.

Doubt began to creep into your mind as the two of you wordlessly made your way to your respective cots. Too tired and caught up in your thoughts to say anything to him, you wonder if Sanosuke only sees you as something for right now. A temporary plaything while he's stuck at sea. Things were moving too fast for your liking. And all of that scared you; it made you want to cut this thing off before it got too deep, but another part urged you to keep whatever this was alive.

But what you weren't aware of is that Sanosuke had been watching you too since the gambling incident. He really saw you now. He was able to see how dedicated you were to your work. How cute you were when the tip of your tongue would stick out of the corner of your mouth as you prepared meals. And how you didn't take shit from anyone. Despite being shorter than everyone on the ship, you didn't back down when someone came after you. He saw that you were never aggressive, but you were quick-witted in response to them, leaving your opponent in a daze trying to decipher your insults.

Sanosuke wasn't sure when it happened, but he had become enamored with your fiery attitude and mysterious demeanor. He wanted to know everything about you, much more than the original question of why you were on this ship. And that's when he started to seek you out. During dinner, when you had only sat alone before and at night when you were gazing up at the stars, he was looking at you, memorizing every part of your face.

For the first time since Sanosuke arrived on this ship, he didn't want the journey to end. He tried to soak in every second he could with you because the more he got to know about you, he could tell he was falling hard. He began to find himself drawn to every little smile you would give when he told a joke or the number of times you rolled your eyes when he tried to cheer you up on a bad day. He wanted to be able to hold you, to know you, to feel you on a much deeper level than he was able to currently.

He has to pretend he doesn't feel these things. So that no one suspects anything is going on between you two. The last thing he wanted to do was to jeopardize your secret. He holds back on his urges to grasp your hand at night or to cup your small face in his hands. To feel your soft skin against his again. He settles for wrapping an arm around your shoulder in a friendly way but can't stop himself as he pulls you close, aching to feel you more than this, wanting to hold you so tightly and never let go.

This kiss that was so brief only caused those feelings inside of him to blaze even brighter. He relished in the feel of your lips on his rough ones. Catching together, only for a moment, due to the lack of moisture from the sea salt air. The kiss lingered in his head for the entire night; he wasn't able to sleep because you flooded his brain. He wanted to know everything you were willing to give. He wanted to drink it all in.

Days passed after the kiss between the two of you. And you yearn to be near each other, even more than before. Neither of you brought the kiss up; it was a special secret you shared. Sanosuke continued to spend more time with just you. Talking endlessly about whatever pops up in his mind. Instead of wishing for the silence you once cherished, you began to enjoy the times with him.

He started to unravel more of himself to you. He told you about his past with the Sekihō Army. He recounted the pain of his captain dying before his eyes with you. And at that moment, you wanted to hold him, wanted to shield him from the pain as he wiped away a stray tear. This man had already gone through so much in his life and still had a beautiful outlook on life. It warmed your heart and endeared you to him even more. Every day you find another thing to love about Sanosuke Sagara.

Along with the pain of his younger years, he tells you about the happiness he found in his "found family." He talked about each member with such enthusiasm you felt yourself becoming fond of them. Kenshin, the brutal swordsmen with a heart of gold. Karou, the other spitfire in his life besides you, was like a younger sister to him. And Yahiko, a kid who had great potential as a future swordsman and the drive to rival a whole army.

You found yourself questioning him about why he left them, but he gave you that shit-eating grin and told him you didn't get that answer until you gave him yours. Flustered, you huffed and rolled your eyes. You didn't want to provide him with that information; it wasn't that you didn't trust him now. In fact, you considered him a friend. But you were worried what he would think of you, running away from your problems, something that he never did. He ran into battle headfirst, honor for whatever he was fighting for. It was something you picked up when he recounted his life to you; he fought for what he believed in, never backing down. You didn't want him to see you as a coward or, worse, be disgusted with your decision to leave instead of choosing to stay and fight things through.

So you didn't push to know why he was here anymore. Instead, you spent more time working alongside him. You would try to help him out on deck when your meal prep duties were done. The manual labor was hard, but it allowed you time to ogle his toned physique. But you also enjoyed more time with him, watching his outgoing personality flourish among the other crew members. A smile plastered on your face as you watched him joke with others and release hearty laughs of his own. His happiness lifted your own mood daily; you couldn't get enough of him.

One of those sunny warm days when you had joined him on deck, things went awry. It was clear that one of the crew members had had too much sun and rum and was beginning to become delirious from the continued exposure. The man was a larger crewmate usually fueled by rum and sea biscuits. He came stumbling over to you, his legs struggling to keep his form upright as he swayed. Before you were even aware of his presence, he was right next to you. The stench coming from his breath confirmed that rum was his breakfast this morning. His eyes were half-lidded, blood-shot, and trained directly on you.

You try to move away from his imposing figure by scooting yourself an inch away, but with the movement, he shoots a hand out and grabs your arm roughly. Dirty nails dig into your skin, leaving imprints. Eyes narrowing, you cringe as his smell overwhelms you and try to yank your arm free of his grasp. But it's to no avail; he has a tight hold on you and doesn't seem to be letting go anytime soon.

The man opens his mouth and slurs out, "Hey, pret-ty boy," a hiccup interrupts his speech; you become more on edge, realizing that this man is overly inebriated. "You-you, probably get all the pussy back home, don't ya, with a face like that?" The words stumble out of his mouth slowly and garbled.

You can't help but wince and turn your face away from him as his breath makes its way into your nostrils. All you want is to escape; you can't even think of how to respond to his question; giving this guy any more time would only draw unwanted attention. You yank your arm again to try and get away, but this time the man rips you back, and you find yourself falling to the floor with an oomph.

The drunkard is still holding your forearm above you as you kneel on the floor. You look up to his flushed face and can see malice laced in his eyes. "I hate your ty-pe," he slurs out at you. For whatever reason, in his drunken state, he has decided to take out this grudge against you. Your eyes move to his other hand holding a small silver knife, glinting in the sun that you had missed up until now.

Panic starts to set into your veins; you aren't strong enough to pull your arm free, and you don't know how to fight. This was very bad. You could kick and scream and try to punch, but you aren't sure how that would turn out.

But like in the old fairy tales that your mother used to tell you when you were young, your knight shows up to save the day. A shadow falls over your figure as Sanosuke blocks the sun's rays. Your face moves to look at him, and you're shocked by his expression. It's one you've only seen when his headband was touched—serious and threatening. If a look could kill the drunkard holding, you would be visiting the underworld. Sanosuke was seething, shoulders tense, teeth clenched, and knuckles held tightly.

"You wanna fuckin' take a step back?" Sanosuke's voice comes out as a low growl as he places a large hand on the man's shoulder connected to the hand holding you.

The inebriated man is fueled by his liquid courage as he responds to Sanosuke, "I seen th-the two of you, this your toy Sano? Didn't take you for the type, but he's pretty enough, I guess." The man can hardly get the sentence out, the alcohol slowing his words as he sways under the weight Sanosuke has placed on his shoulder. You can see Sanosuke's fingers tighten on the man's shoulder at the statement, and his face looks like it is set in stone; the lack of his typical self shocks you.

You're scared—scared of this man finding out your gender, scared because Sanosuke looks like he would dismember this man if he had the chance, and scared because of the knife still glinting in the sun. This could get ugly quickly with a weapon involved. You didn't want Sanosuke to get hurt, he's strong, but a stab wound wouldn't hold well on the ship.

Heart racing, you try to slip out of the man's grasp once again, hoping to draw his attention back to you. There was no plan in your head, just the need to fight-or-flight. If you could get him away from Sanosuke, you were quick enough to escape him and wouldn't have to worry about Sano getting injured.

But surprisingly, the man's grip is tight despite his alcohol-induced state. He jerks your arm back after you try to pull away, and you yelp at the force used as a shock of pain flies through your shoulder. Events are a blur after that.

As soon as your yelp of pain meets Sanosuke's ears, he can't hold back anymore. While he didn't consider himself the most chivalrous man in the world, he hated seeing men hurt women. It didn't even click in his head that this idiot didn't know you were a woman when he saw you crumple to the ground. He only saw red, could only think about how dare that alcoholic bastard lay a hand on his woman. The thoughts came so quickly he didn't have time to process them; he just reacted. He physically had to stop himself from crushing the man's shoulder when he first made contact.

And watching that alcoholic hurt you brought something out in him that was lying dormant before. A wave of unbridled anger and need to protect you surged through him as he removed his hand from the man's shoulder and clenched his fist to deliver a punch. With a woosh of wind, as his fist soars through the open air, it slams hard into the side of the man's nose. The sickening crunch explodes into the atmosphere, along with a gush of blood.

The man screams and curses, dropping his knife to bring both of his pudgy hands to cup his injured nose. Finally, with your arm free, you quickly move away from the falling blood and rush over to Sanosuke's figure to stand beside him. His body is still rigid, his fist is covered in specks of blood.

"You bastard!" The man wails, still holding onto his nose.

A devilish grin appears on Sanosuke's face as he finally unclenches his fist. He knows he's won at this point. There's no way the drunkard would come after him now bleeding and wounded. "I gave you a warning, didn't I?" Sanosuke's voice still holds that tone of hostility as he stares down the man.

For one of the first times, you were able to see that this was the man everyone feared back on land. The ruthless fighter-for-hire who fought with no regrets. While you had seen Sanosuke fight before, you had never seen so much emotion in his fighting before. You're sure he would tear the drunk man limb from limb if he had a chance. You stand in silence, watching the scene unfold before you, trying to understand why there was so much ferocity in the tall man beside you.

The drunk man mutters more curses at Sanosuke before turning tail and running below deck to nurse his wounds. You're shocked by everything that just happened, and you feel light-headed from the adrenaline coursing through you. Turning to Sanosuke, you try to form words, but nothing comes out of your mouth. Your eyes travel to his hand, and through the spots of blood, you can see purplish marks forming on his knuckles. He should get that cleaned up — is all you can think at the moment.

Before you can mention that, he turns his face to yours, and all that malice and anger is gone. You're baffled by the sudden change, not even realizing you are the reason he's able to smile. Knowing that you are safe helps calm that burning anger in him. And knowing that he protected you fills him with a sense of pride.

"You okay, missy?" He whispers as he gazes at your wide eyes. His voice is soft enough so only you can hear.

Your heart jumps in your chest without you wanting it to at his question, and you respond with a bit of nod and a slight sniffle. Trying to compose yourself because everyone is starting to stare now, focused on the spectacle that just happened, you can't break down and cry right now. You have to act like you're unbothered by it all—strong, unshaken.

With a cough, you respond to Sano in your disguised voice, "I'm perfectly fine. I could've gotten out of there!" Your eyes meet his, begging for him not to question you.

Sanosuke hesitates a moment, his face falling at your words, not understanding because you were doing the exact opposite of getting out of there. And then he feels the eyes of the rest of the ship on him, and it dawns on him why you are acting tough when he can see the sheen of tears in your eyes. Because you have to play this facade, to survive, for whatever unknown reason. But something in him longs to envelop you in his arms, to shove away the rest of the world, to let you know you're safe—with him. But he's stuck there dumbly staring at you as the pain in his knuckles begins to sting.

After a few moments of onlookers realizing the fight was over, they return to their work tasks. Sanosuke flexes his hand and lets out a hiss at the sting that goes through the joints with the movement. He gives you a final glance. He wants to spill everything he's feeling right then and there but knows he can't—too much risk, too many eyes watching. But fuck he just wants to hold you. Even though he's never done it before, he knows you would feel just right.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he resigns himself back to work until your delicate hand catches his wrist. His eyebrows quirk, not sure exactly what you're doing because you aren't saying anything. Until he hears your melody of a voice, tell him that he should clean that up, with a gesture to his injured hand.

A feeling of bliss settles in his chest at your statement. His mind travels to other places, like how he aches to feel your lips on his again. He wants you so badly; this secret of you being a woman just might kill him, he thinks. But he wordlessly lets you lead him down below deck to the area where you prepared meals for the crew.

It's secluded and far away from everyone doing their own work. You knew no one would bother you down here. The shipmates only came when it was time for food, and the next meal wouldn't be ready for hours. You motion for Sanosuke to sit on a wooden box in the corner.

Sanosuke obliges, smoothly dropping his form onto the box with a thud. He watches your figure make your way over to a large barrel in the meal preparation area. He can't help but take a glance at your ass as you bend down to the spout to let out a bit of water onto an old rag. Your ragged pants aren't tight on you, but he can still make out the curve of your backside. Testosterone and adrenaline are still coursing in his veins, and while he usually would have better control with things like this, he can't ignore the tightness of his own pants around his dick.

The pain in his hand is momentarily forgotten until you start to speak to him. "You're lucky he didn't stab you. There's hardly anything on this boat to effectively clean a wound." You kneel down in front of him and motion for him to give you his bruised hand. Both of you know that the water supply you just pulled from is strictly for the food. It would eventually go bad, and you were instructed to use it only for meal prep. Using it to care for him was breaking a cardinal rule of the ship.

Sanosuke feels that swell in his chest again when he thinks about you doing something like this for him. He likes the way you fret over him even though he's had much worse injuries than a slight bruise. He lets you gingerly take his hand into your own smoother smaller one as you let out a tsk with a you shouldn't have punched him.

All Sanosuke can do is let out a noise of confirmation. He's too caught up in watching you slowly dab and wipe at the blood-spatter on his hand, taking extra care around any parts that have already started to bruise. Your little pink tongue is poking out of your lips as you concentrate on cleaning him up.

You're so fuckin' cute is the only thing that rattles around in his brain. But you finish too quickly and stand up to go discard the rag. Sanosuke isn't listening to the words falling out of your mouth; all he can focus on is how your hips sway as you walk away.

He's jolted back into the moment when you ask him in annoyance, "Do you hear me, Sanosuke? Why did you do something so stupid?" You turn to him with your hands on your hips and an uneasy look. He watches as you pull your bottom lip below your teeth and chew on it pensively—god, what he wouldn't give to bring your lips to his own right now. He wants to be closer to you so severely it is like an ache he can't soothe.

Sanosuke can't seem to stop himself when the following words tumble out, "Because I think I love you."

He sits quietly, wondering how you'll react because he means it. He's been with a fair amount of women before. Saved many from bad situations, but it's different with you. You're like a siren that calls out to him, a melody he can't ignore. All this time after he found out who you were, he's come to love all of your mannerisms. His body aches with want when he watches your hips sway or when he sees you bend over. But most of all, he loves the fire inside of you, the one you refuse to extinguish. He still has no idea why you're here, on this boat, but he knows—just knows that it's probably because someone tried to extinguish that fire. And he will do anything in his power to help keep that fire alive inside of you.

The silence coming from you is starting to create a pit in Sanosuke's stomach. He doesn't regret telling you, but he doesn't think he can handle the pain of rejection. He believes you must like him too, you spend time with him, you laugh with him, you kissed him. All those things have to amount to some sort of feeling. All he can see is apprehension from your silence to how you've wrapped your arms in front of you in a protective way.

He starts to fill the silence again with a nervous chuckle as he drags his hand across his face. But his heart stills in his chest when he hears your voice softly ring out. "We can't do this, Sanosuke. There isn't a happy ending for us. You're a wanted criminal, and I'm—well, I'm probably wanted in a sense as well."

You sink to the floor and curl in on yourself, bringing your knees to your chin. This was never supposed to happen. You were supposed to pay your dues on this boat and get off. Never to be seen again. You weren't supposed to get attached to this big stupid lanky man. A man that made you smile just by being himself, whose body put to shame the bodies the noble men had back home, a man that made you let down your guard unlike anyone had before.

"But why? When we get off, we'll find something. I'll make money for us." He says almost desperately like he's losing his chance with you. "Please," he whispers out along with your name. And then he's squatting in front of you, much like he did all that time ago when he found out your secret. But he's softer this time as he grazes his hand down your cheek. The calloused palm weighs heavy against your skin.

Your eyes move up to meet his brown depths, and you can practically see the yearning in them, and you wonder if yours are reflecting the same feeling. Because, deep down, you've thought about a life with him too but shoved those thoughts away, knowing that it would be nearly impossible.

There is no way the two of you could live an easy life together. "Sano, I-" you hesitate, but you know he deserves to know now. "I ran away from an arranged marriage, Sanosuke. I couldn't do it. I didn't want to be some old man's housewife. I've barely lived or experienced anything. I want to travel to just do what I want to do. And so I ran away like a scared child." You avert your eyes again, not wanting to see his face, afraid that he won't see you like he has anymore because you were a coward and ran away from your problem. Tears begin to prick in your eyes. You can't stand the silence.

But to your surprise, you feel that vast palm tuck under your chin and gingerly lift your face to his. And your tearful eyes aren't met with the disgust you expected but with that ear-to-ear grin that lights up your soul.

You soften when you see it, and more tears begin to flow as Sanosuke speaks softly to you. "And I still love you, every part of you. I wouldn't want you to be tied down to some old bastard when you deserve so much more." He stops himself from saying he wants you with him because he knows you're right– there's no stable future for the two of you. Life would constantly be on the run if you stayed with him. And the two of you together? It would draw even more attention.

Sanosuke moves his hand, wraps it behind your head, and pulls you into his chest. He smells like sea salt, sweat, and musk that is so clearly him, a scent that you're sure would have made you hold your nose before you got on this ship, but now it's a source of comfort, a smell that you're going to miss. That you'll never be able to take in again once you leave here. So against all better judgment, you let your wall down. "I think I love you too, Sano."

You feel crushed under Sanosuke's hand as he pulls you into an embrace, and you feel him take in a shaky breath at your words. He removes his large hand from the back of your head. He gently cradles your face in both of his weathered palms. "I'm going to kiss you now," the words rumble from inside of him, and he pulls you into a passionate kiss.

Chapped and sun-drenched lips meet each other and move like they have never been quenched before. Your lips meld with Sano's perfectly, and the moment you feel his hot tongue swipe against your lower lip, you open your mouth to let him in. Tongues meet and explore each other until the two of you have to pull away to breathe. Panting your eyes meet his chestnut ones. And it is like you can see all of his want for you in them, and you know that you want him to.

Sanosuke gently presses his forehead against yours and speaks with a low huskiness, "If we can't be together forever, can we at least have today?" Below the lust is a pleading tone. He's not sure he'll survive if he doesn't get one time with you. He'd ache for you for the rest of his life—even though he knows he already will when the two of you part ways.

And so again, you throw caution to the wind and give him a nod. Sanosuke's eyes light up at your confirmation, and he moves to the doorway of the food prep area. Thankfully, it is one of the few places with a door attached, and he quickly shuts it.

When Sanosuke turns around, you can see his erection through the material of his pants. Your mouth waters at the sight of his arousal. You can't pretend you haven't imagined what he's like under those white pants. Especially being so tall, you've always wondered if his size matched his stature. From the outline you can make out, it definitely seems that your hunch is correct.

You don't have too much time to consider it, though as Sanosuke approaches you again, you are still on the floor as he looms over you. You suddenly begin to feel shy. But Sanosuke's calm smile and outstretched hand put your mind at ease. Grasping his hand, you allow him to pull you up so that you are standing.

Sanosuke maneuvers around you to sit back on the box he was on before with a glint in his eye. He motions to you to come closer. Anticipation is heating your veins as you move towards him.

"You know how beautiful you are? I always want to tell ya when I see you, but so many other people are around," Sanosuke says as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you on top of him. You can feel your entire body heat up at his words, but he doesn't give you a chance to respond. Sanosuke moves quickly like he can't bear to keep his hands off of you for one more moment and begins kissing you again with fiery intensity. He shrugs out of his jacket and tosses it to the floor. You marvel again at his broad sun-kissed shoulders. He wraps a hand around your chin and splays his long fingers down part of your neck.

You sit there too stunned and hazy to respond until Sanosuke coaxes you. "Missy, open your mouth." You comply quickly as Sanosuke devours your lips again. His tongue goes quickly into your own mouth, and you let out a moan.

You end up adjusting yourself so you can adequately straddle him. The feeling of his hard member is pressed up against your clothed pussy. Sanosuke removes his hand from your face and starts to knead at your thighs. You almost melt at the sensation. Heat is building up quickly inside of you. It feels like his hands are all over you now, everywhere at once, and the feeling is driving you crazy. You feel trapped under a spell— unable to move or speak through your cloudy thoughts.

Sanosuke pulls away, panting. He leans his head against your chest for a moment as you both catch your breath. But it doesn't take long until Sanosuke finds the exposed skin of your chest, the area right above your bandages. He begins to leave feather-soft kisses in there—his mouth continues to dip lower over the fabric covering one of your most sensitive areas until his nose meets your covered breasts. Your nipples press hard against the bandages as they become erect, another sensation that continues to build a tight coil inside of you.

Sanosuke's hands continue to wander from your thighs to your ass. He groans at the feeling of your butt in his palms. A desperate need to see all of you arises. But he would have to be content with just touch for now as he continues to squeeze your cheeks until you let out a little squeak—a sound Sanosuke swears is one of the sweetest things he's ever heard— it sends a rush of blood to his aching cock.

You find yourself rocking against his hips as you ignore the growing wetness between your thighs.

"Alright, alright, baby. Let me get these pants off. It wouldn't look too good if my only pair got ruined," he coos in your ear as he rubs a large hand over your back. You groan, not wanting to separate your body from his. Your hips beg to keep grinding against him until you reach that release.

Sanosuke gives you a small peck to your pouted lips before gently standing up. You wrap your legs around his torso, refusing to waste a single second separated from him. One of his large hands holds onto the small of your back to keep you upright as you cling to him. With the other, he shucks his white pants down, the weathered fabric pools around his feet. Sanosuke kicks his way out of them and then lays you down on the wooden box. The hard surface is unwelcome compared to the heat of his chiseled body. But before you can let out a protest, he climbs on top of you.

"I wish I could spend every moment with you, like this, splayed out before me," he says, voice husky and eyes hazy. "But the gods didn't hand us the best of circumstances, so we are going to have to be quiet and quick." Sanosuke presses another passionate kiss to your lips.

After you break apart, you can't help but slide your hands on his toned muscle. You had been holding back for a while now and didn't want to waste the only opportunity you had. Sanosuke chuckles softly at the movement—a sound that sends shivers through your body. He moves his own hand down your chest and pulls down your tattered old shirt, the bandages are blocking his view, but he doesn't want to rip them, fearing they might be the only ones you have. You are able to read the contemplative look on his face and grasp his large hand, and placing it at the top of the bandages, you give a nod of approval to him.

Sanosuke wastes no time with your confirmation and easily tears the bandages apart unceremoniously. He stares in awe for a moment. Your tits are perfect, even covered with the red marks from the bandages that previously held them. He marvels how you could hide them but doesn't want to spend too long on that thought. Bending down, he gives both of your erect nipples attention, taking time to slowly suck on each of them earnestly. Your hands find his hair, and you hold his head gently, running your fingers along his scalp as you stare at the wooden ceiling. The feeling of his warm mouth on your breasts feels like heaven. That aching need inside you is only getting more robust with each suck.

Sanosuke begins to slide his hands down your body, his long fingers grasp at the tie that holds your pants up, he quickly pulls it. Without hesitation, you help him and shimmy your pants off. You can't help the moan that escapes you when the outside air hits your exposed pussy.

"Shhhhh," Sanosuke hushes you with a soft tone. And presses another warm kiss to your lips.

He continues his journey with his mouth further. Collecting your slick on two fingers, he can't resist the urge as he sticks them into his mouth. Your flavor explodes on his tongue, tangy and sweet.

Staring up at the imposing figure over you, your legs are still wrapped around his waist, desperately hanging on, your body entirely on display for him. His eyes watch you with deep intrigue as your lips part for him. You also want to make him feel good. While you weren't the most experienced in this department, you want to ensure he never forgets about you. If this was the only chance you would get with him, you wanted him to have this moment cemented in his mind. A wave of heat flows through you, thinking of him fucking his fist to this moment with you in the future.

Sliding off the wooden box, you kneel in front of Sanosuke. His dick is inches away from your face. It's large and noticeably long with a pretty flushed tip and a bead of pearlescent pre.

Sanosuke's hands find their way into your hair. With a deep chuckle, he asks, "What are ya doing, missy?" Although he's positive, he knows where you are going with this. Sanosuke moves a hand to your face and pushes it up with his thumb. "Look at me."

Your eyes meet his chestnut ones for what seems like an eternity.

"Fuck pretty girl, I'd be a liar if I said I never imagined this," he says with a glint in his eyes. The words cause heat to pool more in your belly. You flash him a devious look while leaning forward and pumping his stiff length.

The sensation of his dick between your fist makes you want to whine. He seems even larger now that you can actually touch him. All those days of fantasizing couldn't prepare you for his actual size. Sliding your fist back and forth, you bring your face to his tip and place a light kiss on the tip.

Sanosuke leans back, his hand roams to your cheek, where he traces the line of your cheekbone beneath his fingers. The feeling of him touching your face only encourages you as you finally take his member into your mouth. Your tongue dances around his tip, causing him to let out a sinful moan.

You continue to take him further into your mouth, trying to ignore the gag reflex telling you to pull back—you want to take him as far as you can. After a moment, you pull back, sliding your tongue along his dick and placing chaste kisses every so often. Sanosuke's head is so clouded he starts to feel like he's on a cloud. His other hand grips tightly to the wooden box he's perched on.

"Oh god, yes, baby, don't stop," he chokes out as he moves his large hand to the back of your head to encourage you to take his member back in your mouth again. Taking his length in your mouth as he guides your head, your breasts graze his shins, the touch of his skin on your nipples causes a shiver to run through you.

Sanosuke takes his hand from your head and reaches down to feel one of your breasts, kneading it slowly as you moan around his cock. He wasn't sure he could hold out much longer. As much as he wanted to cum down your throat, he didn't want this to end that quickly. Instead, he chooses to fully commit this moment to memory—although he's done that with every interaction now. He gently pulls you off of his dick until just his tip—leaking precum is touching your lips.

"Come here, beautiful," Sanosuke purrs as he helps you up to your feet and lets you settle in his lap again. With his member pressing up against your wet core, you both let out a groan when you make contact. Grabbing his face in your small palms, you bring your gazes to each other.

Sanosuke is enraptured by the fire inside of you. He can't look away even if he wants to. With the guidance of his large hands on your hips, you slowly sink down onto his cock, your eyes never leaving each other. Sanosuke swears he could die right there watching the pinch of pain on your face until you adjust to his size and then when pleasure takes over your features. You look like an angel or a goddess, something ethereal to him. His eyes filled with passion over you.

You breathe out his name between pained puffs tipping your head back, fighting to not release a moan. Sanosuke's cock twitches inside of you. Bringing your gaze back to him, you see that his eyes never left you, still trained on every curve of your body.

Sanosuke takes a hand from your hip and reaches to rub your breast. He rubs a thumb over one of your pebbled nipples. The action causes you to release a gasp as you pick up your pace, rutting your hips in an attempt to snap the coil bound so tightly inside of you. Sanosuke wraps an arm around your waist to stabilize you and hold you tight as he stands up—there's too much distance between your bodies his mind roars.

Sanosuke takes over at that point, hips slamming up into yours. You feel like your mind has gone blank at the sudden feeling. It's as if you can feel every inch of him inside of you. He continues his movements, rutting upwards into your sopping pussy. And still, his gaze is trained on you, watching the pleasure overcome your features. This is one of the few times you will ever be taller than him, and you feel heavenly seeing the way his lust-filled eyes meet yours. You wish you could live this forever with him, stay with him forever, just the two of you.

The way you move on his dick makes his mind foggy. He's desperate to feel every single inch of you. Your moans and cries were louder than he wanted them to be—but he couldn't bring himself to care anymore. He wants to see you unwind entirely, wants to hear you scream his name when you cum.

"Sano, m'close," you moan out as you move one of your hands from his shoulders and down to rub your aching clit. The call of his name from your mouth only encourages him to fuck you faster and harder. He ends up pushing you against the ship wall with a loud thud. Wooden splinters stick into you, but you can't even be bothered anymore.

You find yourself moaning Sanosuke's name over and over. A hymn to his ears.

"Fuck," he lets out with a guttural groan as he continues to thrust deeper and deeper inside of you. Until the coil in you finally snaps and your relief comes exploding from you. Sanosuke continues to move into you as your orgasm finishes. His eyes meet your face, loving how you look when you come undone. He leans forward to capture your lips in one final kiss as he reaches his own end, filling you with thick hot ropes of cum. You’re panting and trying to catch your breath when he breaks the kiss, your pussy still trying to milk him dry with its spasms.

Sanosuke plummets down on the box with a loud thump not worrying about how he's going to get the splinters out of his ass later. "You are so fuckin' beautiful, you know that?" He tells you through pants as he presses kisses along your collarbone.

Leaning a bit away from him, you take him all in; his messy hair looks even more frazzled, sweat stains his skin, but his face is full of such bliss you wish you could take a photo and frame it.

The two of you sit there in silence, together, just listening to each other breathe. Knowing this is the only moment the two of you will have is something neither of you wants to acknowledge now. So instead, your lips find each other again, a slow passionate kiss—a goodbye kiss.

After a while, you finally separate, sweaty and sticky. A final I love you is whispered softly from both of you after your clothes are back on and bandages re-wrapped.

And as the two of you approach the deck, unsure what will happen next or how much longer you will have with each other, you hear the lookout call the words you were dreading since the moment you realized your feelings for Sanosuke.

"Land approaching!"

#i am losing my everloving shit over here #i could gush about this for days #i legit have been crafting a response to this fic for days #i have two pages of notes like the fic nerd I am #i didn't wanna miss a thing BECAUSE THAT'S HOW GOOD THIS IS #my wife writes so cleverly and beautifully #PLEASE read this #you will not regret it #will be the best thing you do today 💙#sanosuke x reader #sanosuke sagara x reader #sanosuke sagara smut #ruroni kenshin x reader #a single moment #🌠wifeys writing🌛#fic recs #highseascollab #pocketfriendscollab

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lady-lunaaa · 3 years ago

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Pocket Friends' High Seas Collab

Ahoy Me Hearties!

Step into a world of adventure and wonder, where Gods rule and pirates roam, as we traverse the high seas with nothing but a compass in hand and a swashbuckling crew at our backs!

Witness whole cities submerged below the surface while sea serpents rage against ships above, as you embark on a journey to seek long-lost treasure and forbidden romance.

But careful Matey! For the sea is a cruel mistress - beware the siren's song lest you meet a watery grave.

So pick your poison ☠ and settle in for a rocky ride!

This collab will go live on April 24th but some entries may be submitted early and some late so make sure to check for updates if you so wish! Dark content is welcome so please read all tags carefully.

Jujutsu Kaisen

☠ Suguru Getou x reader - @karikarasuno

My Hero Academia

☠ Katsuki Bakugou x reader - @mindninjax

Naruto

☠ Kakashi Hatake x reader x Yamato - @whats-her-quirk

Tokyo Revengers

☠ Manjirou "Mikey" Sano x reader - @lady-lunaaa

Other

☠ Sanosuke Sagara x reader - @dabilove27 (Rurouni Kenshin)

#server collab #tw: dark content #jjk x reader #tokyo rev x reader #naruto x reader #pocketfriendscollab #highseascollab

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dabilove27 · 3 years ago

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I gotta rein myself in to not just absolutely scream constantly over this. This is phenomenal, absolutely phenomenal. Each word is beautifully crafted to make this gorgeous scene and story line. When you told me about the concept I was excited but it didn't even measure up to this beauty you created. My heart is aching for reader already but I'm also madly in love with her. I wanted to beat up that god so fast I had to contain myself-he ENRAGED me!

I know I've said it over and over and over but your descriptions legit entrance me. I feel like I'm watching each and every scene play Out. AND THE EMOTIONS OH MY GOSH THE EMOTIONS I CRIED I ACHED I SCREAMED I SMILED!!! You pulled them all out so BEAUTIFULLY! like I cannot praise this chapter enough but then we'd have a reblog that's 50 pages long. You came in and smashed this Pirate AU out of the freaking park.

AND LETS TALK ABOUT THAT ENDING THOUGH!!!!!!! I'm intrigued, angered, and on the edge of my seat! You really know how to do a cliff hanger and I'm biting my nails wondering what will happen next!!

Luna I cannot say this enough, this is phenomenal, you've done a beautiful job and this is one of my favorites of yours. I know you are going to continue to be amazing with this and I'm so excited to scream more!

Chapter 1-

Masterlist | Next chapter

Pairing: Pirate!Mikey x Goddess!reader

Rating: MATURE, minors do not interact

Warnings: pirate au, female reader, insinuation that reader is required to perform sexual acts for a deity against her will, manipulation (from both reader and deity), drowning, violence (boot to the face) and a spatter of blood

WC: 5.7k

a/n: This is chapter 1 of my submission for the High Seas Collab, please go and check out everyone's amazing pieces here. A big thank you to my babes, @dabilove27 and @gixxie, for hosting this collab with me- without you, this never would have come to fruition 💙 I plan to post a chapter a week (hopefully) so bear with me. I'm so excited for this series and I hope you enjoy!

Playlist: ☠

It is a lonely affair being sea Goddess; an entity responsible for the myriad of ecosystems that make up the ocean, separated from humanity and even the realm of deities. An outcast; no place for you in either world. No friends nor family to speak of (other than the sea creatures you nurture), for they all passed long ago, a near-forgotten time in your past that often danced along the edges of your memory, taunting you with hazy recollections of faces and names and happiness.

You loved once, no matter how long ago or how hard time tries to pry the emotion from you, you remember it. The warmth and elation at being surrounded by the ones who loved you, cherished you. The peace of being able to sleep at night knowing you aren’t alone and the simple joy of waking to a new day and a table full of food and laughter.

It is the only thing that kept you sane, that gave you comfort during those centuries in your underwater prison. It is the only thing that keeps the bad memories out, the living nightmare that plays out in your head on repeat; being tricked and spoiled, torn from your family’s bosom and ripped out of your mortal shell, then tossed aside like nothing. That is the way of the Gods; mortals are mere playthings, inconsequential to the passage of time, a passing fancy compared to the many millennia that deities prevail.

And now you endure the same eternal fate, except you endure it alone. You swore to yourself that you would not let the rage and upset that consumed your soul in those early days fester and twist into cruelty and hatred. You will not become like the ones who condemned you, even if it tortures you for the rest of your existence. You hold onto the pieces of your humanity that remain with desperate resolve, clutching at the grains before they can slip through the hourglass and be claimed to time.

It is a struggle, but you do your best to remind yourself of the simple beauty found in the smallest reaches of the sea. The secret metropolis hidden beneath the waves that is run by the shrewd and vicious mer-clans. The birth of an animal and the new life that is continuously found amongst death. The weird and wonderful creatures found at the deepest depths of the ocean, the sole lights amongst the pitch dark. The images remind you that life is beautiful and worth living.

And although time took many things from you, it also gifted you new skills, abilities that you honed to precision. You learnt that you could explore and experience things second-hand for short periods of time, using sea animals as your eyes and ears. You learnt to shape water itself; bend it to your will. You could split the sea in half if you so wished, swallow ships whole, attack the land you so yearned to set foot on with tirade after tirade of vicious waves.

Perhaps one of the most useful things you learnt as Goddess was the healing power of water. You can mend bones, knit skin back together and flush out poison running through veins. It has helped countless Merpeople who often find themselves injured at the hands of one of their own. And it even helped a handsome young pirate, a cheerful fellow with a strong honour code and unparalleled kindness. You still thought about him even now, how strange that man had been. You had never witnessed a pirate captain so charming and sweet, a pleasant but stark contrast to the usual brutes that stalked the high seas on their hulking vessels.

He had been injured, gravely so, in a battle against two pirate factions. The culmination of a generations long feud that ended with blood and canons and death. You had witnessed from afar, yearning to intervene and do something. But it was forbidden to meddle in the affairs of mortals, to change the course of fate for your own personal gain, or anything as frivolous as human emotion.

When the sounds of cannon fire and clashing swords ceased, and the cries of the injured subsided you had gone in and swept the wreckage for bodies, for any tell tale sign of life. And you found one. You knew that you could help this man, just this one. And it was that which you told yourself every time you could not bear to look away and let the ocean take another victim.

You had seen the wrecks that littered the seafloor; ships still partially intact with skeletons sitting inside watery cabins, bones picked clean by fish. Their once prized treasure scattered around them and covered in thick swathes of seaweed. It struck a melancholic chord within your soul to see that as their final resting place, there was something so sad about being buried at sea, never to return home and be with your loved ones.

Your newest (in the last hundred years or so) and most interesting ability was shaping a temporary body out of water. You are proud of your prowess but you have to admit, this one isn’t so useful. It serves only one purpose; a purpose you wish you did not have to fulfil.

You have no one with which to speak, to keep you company down here. You simply exist, woven seamlessly into every particle of water, witnessing all. The surveyor of your watery domain, but never feeling, never tasting, never experiencing for yourself. It’s only through the eyes of others, perhaps a nosey mermaid or a pod of roaming orcas, that you see the world. And even then, it’s only the world contained within the sea, not able to explore beyond the shore.

The highlight of any day for you is worming your way into a creature’s mind, into its very essence (your favourite are seals, they are very impressionable and often seek out boats for stray scraps), and planting a suggestion there; an image of the water's surface. Then all it takes is a push, a desire to follow the thought, before you breach the surface and witness the ships at home among the waves. The decks are always bustling with crew; shouting commands and wrestling with equipment, back and forth they go.

Oftentimes, you follow the ships to harbour in the early morn' and watch people unload goods onto the dock, preparing for the day's market. Trade is rife, stalls stretching as far as the eye can see, fabric tops fading into uneven, mismatched homes of stone and wood. Some peddlers sell jewellery made from sea glass and shells, others boast an impressive selection of fresh fish and crustaceans, and there is always one who claims they have rare trinkets from far-off lands.

Hawker’s cries pierce through the cacophony of sound; the voices of patrons mingle with the bells of ships that come into dock and the clattering of horse-drawn carts through the streets, and the distant shrieks of gulls reach over the din as they swoop into the fray to purloin an easy breakfast from the fishermen.

People from all walks of life roam the busy promenade; burly ship-hands trade treasures found at sea for fresh fruit and drinking water, portly servants browse the more luxury wares no doubt hoping to find something to their young master’s tastes, and families of noisy children and scolding mothers weave through the crowds filling up their aprons with bread and potatoes.

Everyone convenes here come dawn hoping to fetch a pretty penny or haggle themselves a bargain. The chaos is thrilling to you; the noise, the smells, the mess. There is nothing quite like it at sea, and when you had still walked the land on two legs the world had looked very different, indeed. It toys with your curiosity and calls to you like a siren song, begging you to explore islands unknown.

And that curiosity, that desire, is what drives you to this secluded cove by the shore. A special place for you, nestled away from the main city and far from the harbour and all its humdrum. No one ever comes here, and although it is lonely, it is nice to have a secret spot carved out of the land all for you. You can almost convince yourself that it is separated from the rest of the world. The only piece of land you have that no one else does not, even if you cannot sit amongst the sand and feel the grains sift through your fingers, it is yours.

It is also the location you choose to rendezvous with the King of God’s, the one who bestowed this “blessing” upon you, the Father of you all. You did not meet often with him because it is not allowed, it could put you in danger if she found out, and the Father of Deities was a busy man after all.

You float at the edge of the shore, just before the water kisses the sand, and concentrate all of your energy into one point. Allowing the water to shift and swirl, upwards and out, into a human form. A woman born of salt and sea.

You flex your watery digits, and marvel at the solid shape they retain. Once upon a time, an action like that would have caused your whole form to unravel, but you have full control now. You hold up your arm and admire the eddying waters, watching the moonlight glint off the liquid playfully.

What did people think when they saw this form? Saw the womanly curves swirl into frothy waves where your hips met the sea. Saw a face as translucent as coloured glass, fish swimming in the spaces where eyes should be, and a mane of seaweed flowing wildly about your figure.

You realise with a sick feeling that for many this form is a curse, a harbinger of death that sent sailors to a watery grave. Heaven’s puppet that fought and killed many good men in the Divine War, when the Gods won over the humans' attempt at rebellion. You carry much shame and grief, still from that chapter of your life, and it is something that you need to push aside for this clandestine meeting. If you wish to get your way, then you need to be careful and astute.

The king of Gods shall not be fooled so easily, unless you have a pretty face and appeal to his ego.

Both of which you plan to use to your advantage. You had spent many nights, in these very waters, perfecting your features. The curve of your lips and the line of your brows, the allusion to high cheekbones and a straight nose. You paid special attention to the area below your neck, creating a full and ample bosom, knowing it would please him.

A dolphin swims up to your side, frolicking in the waves that skirt around your form, head bobbing in a friendly salute. You hold out a hand and it places a rounded jewel into the centre of your palm, a pearl. The colour of an oil spill, rainbow inflections dancing across the surface in deep blues, royal purples and forest greens.

In the light of day, the patterns and colours would shift even more so, but it was unmistakably a dragon pearl. The blue-back hue synonymous with water dragons. It had been a gift from your late father.

He obtained it from one of his many voyages at sea, him (and some others whose names you do not recollect), had risked the long and arduous journey to the prosperous Island in the East when you were but a child. The Island was well known for its wealth and use of dragons in a military capacity; weaponising such great beasts was an affront to your people, who highly revered the magnificent creatures.

But still, your father and his men had left to trade their combined belongings for supplies and materials needed for your village’s agricultural prospects. Your father, the village chief, had reasoned that if they could find work in the city or even establish trade routes then his people would prosper and your luck would turn.

It had been a vital mission, your village poverty stricken and much of the land infertile. It had been a disappointing, but expected, outcome when they had returned without much more than trinkets and a few bags of coin. The only thing of any worth- the midnight blue pearl he had pressed into your tiny little fist, a “treasure for my treasure”, he had told you.

That marked the day your village had turned to the help of the heavens, a fateful choice that led to your current predicament.

You hold the gem in front of your face and evaluate its beauty, the only belonging you retain from your human life, a bittersweet memory. Of course, now that dragons were near-extinct this little ball of onyx was most rare indeed, and worth far more than it had been when you were a human child.

You roll the pearl between your index finger and thumb, turning the gem thrice in succession, before capturing it in a tight fist. Its shape wavers in the ever-shifting water encasing it, you feel stronger having it with you while you wait for him to show his face.

A few minutes pass, before you notice a stirring in the air, a presence that only grows stronger. A whisper of wind caresses your cheek and a gust blows up a storm in the waters. You do your best to contain your irritation and cast your borrowed eyes upward to see a swirl descending from the sky.

As the whirlwind touches the earth, a large figure emerges from the spiral, bare feet sinking into sand. As quickly as the wind comes, it dies down, returning peace to the cove. Well, peace until he opens his mouth.

“Treasure, you called?”

The man (God) before you, is tall and lean, muscles rippling with each movement. His midnight skin is painted with smears of gold and long dark hair falls down his back in braids, just brushing the white cotton of his trousers. A circlet twisted with chunks of amethyst rests across his forehead. He is handsome, devastatingly so, and once you had been blinded by that beauty. You had been blind to everything except his deceit.

You part your wet lips and a voice answers him, a melody that rings around the cove.

“Don’t call me that, no one is permitted to call me that,” your words are biting, like a striking serpent, in contrast to your sugary and seductive tone. There is a reason you borrowed a Siren’s voice for this occasion, a favour you will have to repay later, and that is to counteract your sharp tongue with an enticing timbre.

He laughs, and the sound is pure attraction, rich and deep. Pearly whites flash in the moonlit dark and if you had the stomach for it, you would be sick at the sound. On the surface, he is perfect. But if someone knew the true nature beneath, as you do, then they would hear the cruel mirth in that laugh and see the wicked glint in those pretty violet eyes.

"Such bold words to be spoken to I,” he walks toward the water lapping at the shore and stops when it reaches his toes, “but I always enjoyed that quality of yours, it’s the reason I made you ruler of the Seas.”

You swallow a cruel laugh of your own, that fire within your soul igniting at his brazen lie, but you smile instead and force out words far kinder than he deserves.

“I do not think that was the only reason, my King.” He brightens at the title purred from your lips and the way you shift the hair across your chest, leading his eyes downward.

An easy grin splits across his face and you can tell he appreciates your playing along.

“Seems you have learnt many things since I saw you last, Goddess. A siren’s voice? A clever choice.” You incline your head as if in thanks and he continues.

"It is not yet time for our union, we are short by at least a decade,” you shudder internally at his mention of your “union”, of course he had found a way to continue seeing his mistress despite the obstacles of a wrathful Queen and you being made of literal water, “I assume that you desire something else from me?”

This is your moment, you steel your nerves and before you can waver under those piercing eyes, you speak.

“I wish to walk on the land, I wish for you to give me a body once more. A human body,” you elaborate, as he opens his mouth in what you are certain is protest. You continue on hurriedly before he can speak, using a tone you hope is confident and firm.

"It has been long enough, I cannot stay confined to these waters any longer, lest I lose my mind. I ask that you please consider my words.” You finish your request with a bow of your head, realising your words came across far more demanding than they had any right to be.

He regards you thoughtfully, as if entertaining the idea, and you are surprised that he does not shoot you down immediately. The silence stretches on before he dons a tight-lipped smile.

"I knew this day would come, but I hoped it would not be so soon," he sighs heavily, as if you asked him to hang the moon, which he could very well do, "but what's in it for me, little dove?"

Ah yes, the question you had anticipated but not fully prepared for. There is really only one thing you can offer, are willing to offer, this leech. And you must choose your words carefully from now on.

"I know what I ask of you is great, and I do not expect to pay off this debt, but I have nothing to lose. And everything to gain."

He raises a brow in amusement, "Oh, how I never tire of your theatrics, my darling. But you did not answer my question." His voice hardens on the last line, and you know you have to appeal to him quickly.

"I have little to nothing to offer you, my lord, as you well know. But what I can give to you is my body, my human body. If you are so kind as to gift it to me, that is."

That piques his interest, like you hoped it would. You drift toward him on the waves, as close as possible to where he stands on the shore, and stretch out a watery hand.

"I could continue to serve you, my lord, but properly. With real hands, real fingers," your see-through digits lightly skim his toned abs, dancing along the hem of his waistband, and you make sure to pitch your voice low and breathy, "with a tongue."

He audibly swallows, wavering on the spot, as if tempted to join you in the water.

You smile internally, and push a little further, "Skin against skin, like we used to," you encase his wrists with water, moving the cool liquid up his arms to tickle his neck, soothing and invigorating as you go, "it's been so long, my King, I could be your plaything again."

Your voice is barely above a murmur now, as you raise your hand to caress his cheek, a whisper of an action. He shudders, long lashes fluttering closed.

"Isn't that what you want?" you purr at him, before pulling away completely, putting distance between you once more. You have to hide the disgust you feel when you notice the stiff erection straining against his slacks. A dick-brained fool. So easily persuaded, it just so happens that you can lead the horse to water and make it drink, after all.

"But I understand if that is not enough, I shall merely rethink my proposal and come back next decade with something more...enticing," you stare into those purple eyes, "but hear me, Father, I will not abandon this request, and I will keep trying. For as long as it takes, I will have my freedom once more."

He sighs dramatically and raises a manicured hand to his temple, a show of annoyance, but you know you have his defeat in the palm of your hand.

"Your offer is most tempting, my sweet, but know it is not this that sways me. I do this merely for you, because I am so fond of you." He looks up at you through his fingers, eyes dark, and if you had lungs you would be holding your breath right about now. His flattery and blatant lie is lost to you, it matters no more, he is going to grant you your request. You will be human again.

A thrill zings through you at the prospect, something that lights you from within, your soul screaming for its release.

"Oh my lord, than-"

He holds up a hand to signal your silence, "Hold on now, my little goddess, there are rules," you wrestle the excitement down and try to focus on his words, of course there are consequences for this gift.

"If I do this, you are not human. You are still Goddess of the Waters, first and foremost," you nod quickly, eager to get this over with before he changes his fickle mind, "you will still possess your powers, but you must keep your identity safe from mortals, they cannot know."

You nod again, this is textbook, as if a mortal would believe such a title anyways. The ways of the Old Deities are scarce amongst the people these days.

"Oh, one more thing, my little treasure," you bristle at the pet name and hold onto the venom that dares to spit from your mouth, "you may not fall in love with a mortal during your...playtime. I forbid it. You serve me, and I have your heart."

You hesitate, "But I-"

"You will NOT, or I shall not grant you what you so desire," he examines the nails of his left hand, as if he hadn't just commanded that your heart be his, against your will. But you did not ask this of him for love, for silly romance, you asked this of him for freedom. You do not need love, you had once, and look where it has gotten you.

No. You do this for a chance to gain back a life outside of these waters, for yourself, and no one else. Love does not come into it. So, you harden your resolve and answer.

"Yes, Father."

He smiles back at you, all teeth and no humour. "Perfect, let's get this started then shall we? I wouldn't want to be late for supper."

You roll your eyes as best you can, silvery fish flipping over within your watery orbs. He steps fully into the sea now, but he does not sink beneath the waves, instead he walks atop them. His steps are agonisingly slow and you use your remaining patience not to hurry him on.

He stops before your temporary form and holds out a large hand, mere inches from your sternum, and looks at you devilishly.

"And you know I much prefer it when you call me daddy." His eyes alight with mischief at your face of displeasure before he presses his palm flat against your chest, just under your bosom.

Those twin flashes of indigo are the last thing you see before your reality crumbles, your very being unravelling into an obsolete darkness.

≈ ≈ ≈ ≈

Everything is dark, everything is pain. You writhe and scream despite having no body, no voice. Perhaps only the memory of a reaction.

Your soul is a sudden brightness in the black, shining fiercely against the onslaught of shadow, and you witness as flesh is bound to it. Strips of muscle and sinew joining around bones, and hair and fingernails sprouting from fresh skin.

The process is agony, so much worse than you remember it being all those decades ago, and this time you do scream. Loud and clear, ripping your virgin vocal cords raw, as they stretch around the piercing sound.

And then you're free falling through the darkness, the pit of your stomach shooting up into your chest, screams cut short as your breath catches in your throat.

You plunge into water, body smacking the surface with a thunderous clap, before you sink slowly into its depths. Your lungs ache straining for that first gulp of oxygen, a need you haven't had for centuries, and your body instinctively breathes in. Water shoots down your nose and throat, the salt burning your insides, as you struggle to eject the liquid and take another breath. You're drowning from the inside out, choking on an endless stream of ocean, your domain for the last 2000 years rejecting you now that you have acquired this new vessel. An intruder in your own home.

You force your lids open, the salt stinging your eyes, bubbles erupting from your mouth and rushing to the…surface. You see the surface. A bright shimmering light amongst the eternal blue, and your brain registers that it's a beautiful sight, if you weren't currently drowning maybe, you could enjoy its beauty.

Your body spasms and your legs kick out beneath you, your body pitching upwards, towards the light. Your eyes widen as you remember that you have a body, you have legs and arms, and you can swim. It's been a long time but surely, it's instinct for an animal. You close off your nose and throat, lungs ready to burst, throat and eyes burning so badly you think there must be irreparable damage.

And you swim. You kick your legs and drag your arms through the water, propelling yourself upwards inch by inch. But it's too slow. You can't make it. Your chest feels like it's going to explode and you open your mouth, sea rushing in once more as your eyesight goes fuzzy. And you let go. You blink up at the surface, vision blackened at the edges, and let yourself float away into nothingness.

It's odd, but you hardly feel the pain anymore, now that you've stopped fighting and let the ocean claim its victory. It's almost…peaceful.

Just as your eyes begin to close and you start to lose consciousness, there is a pressure around you, something moving through the water. Hands catch around your waist, grabbing your flesh, and begin pulling you up, up. When your head breaks the surface, you barely register the rush of cold air, the sting as a slap lands on your cheek, the muffled shouts in your ear as someone yells at you to "Wake up!"

Somewhere between the surface and wherever the hands are pulling you, you lose consciousness.

≈ ≈ ≈ ≈

You stir when two large hands begin a bone cracking rhythm against your chest, eyes flying open as you retch, torrents of seawater spilling from your mouth. The hands tip you to the side as you vomit what feels like liquid fire, emptying your gut and lungs, and finally taking in a rattling gulp of what your body so desperately craves.

You blink and your consciousness begins to fade once more, only to be rudely interrupted by a boot to the face. The grooves of the sole dig into your cheek and press it painfully against your teeth. You feel skin split and copper floods your mouth, mixing with the taste of salt and acrid bile, your stomach rolls and you heave.

The owner of the boot only applies more pressure, and you sputter, blood spattering your lips and chin as you look up at your assailant. The last thing you see, before you completely lose consciousness this time, is tanned skin, a shock of sun-bleached blonde, and a smile so sadistically wide that it blocks out all else.

The first true emotion you feel after two millennia of emptiness is a flutter of fear deep in your bones.

#yes this my third time reblogging this today #no you cannot question me #one tumblr did cause tumblr hates me so #BUT this one is purposeful because everyone needs to read this #phenomenal is the word that continually comes to my mind #read it now people #sano manjiro x reader #tw: violence #tw: blood #sano manjiro #tw: drowning #tw: dark content #pocketfriendscollab #of salt and sea 🌊#highseascollab #rach reads #wifey's writing 💜💙

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lady-lunaaa · 3 years ago

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Holy fucking shit. Wait, is this one of the best things I've ever read? Yes it fucking is. And I'm losing my entire mind. This is a CHAOTIC reblog and tomorrow I'm gonna sit down and write a whole dissertation about why this is a masterfully written piece of writing, just exquisite! I finally have a day off and best believe it's gonna be spent rereading this fic, fucking snorting it into my brain, inhaling it into my lungs, injecting it straight into my veins until I'm so high that this world you've created is my reality. And that is all. See you again tomorrow for more screaming, possibly until I vomit 💙

A Sliver of Eternity

Pairing: Pirate! Getou Suguru x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Reader is heavily inspired by Circe, Angsty Ending, Implied Violence (but nothing explicit), Smut (18+ only), Unprotected Sex, Slight Pussy Job, Implied Satosugu

Word Count: 8.7k

Breathe.

Once in. Once out.

Keep reading

#no one look at me #im a drama queen #BUT ALL OF IT IS TRUE #i #gosh idk how you do it Kari #I'm so glad you took your time on this #it was fucking worth every second #AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #yaknow when reader screeches into the stormy sky at the end ?#yeah thats me rn #you've made a banshee out of me #getou suguru x reader #getou fanfic #getou smut #jjk fanfic #pirate au #highseascollab #fic recs #🌜luna rambles🌛