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saturnsorbits · 2 years

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Another Tide

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Pirate AU, Violence, A Touch of Gore, Background Suggested KiriBaku and MinaOcha, Rough Sex, Spit, Spanking, Lacking Prep, Choking, The Smallest Bit of Ass-Play, Soft Sex, Ambiguous Ending. Word Count: 14.5k.

Summary: Captain Bakugo Katsuki certainly left an impression when he broke his promise and abandoned you. Unluckily for him, you're rather good at holding a grudge.

A/N: Based on: This.

Water drips from the ceiling of the cells. In thin rivers, it travels down the stone, nourishing the moss that sustains, barely, by the stolen natural light allowed by the tower door. Most of the cities jail cells are above ground, but not this one. This, buried beneath one of the old royal towers, is a hole reserved only for the worst men who displease the crown. Men, like Bakugo Katsuki.

'Ah.' The voice breaks from the darkness. It's as rough as the mid-summer storm outside, as more inaudible words are purred into the air. A fitting voice for a pirate. 'My princess, returns...'

Lifting your candle a little higher, you take your leave from the final step of the tower and peer about the lock-up. There are only four cells here, buried below the world; although only two of them are currently occupied. Slipping your feet from your shoes, you cross the flag-stone to the third cell and squint into the dim. 'I am not your princess.'

Chained to the floor with his manacled hands in his lap, Bakugo squints against the light offered by the burning candle. 'C'mon now...' His chains jingle as he unfolds himself, clambering to his feet. 'Don't be like that, my love.'

Your eyes find his in a moment, but before you're lost to their crimson depth you're turning and moving towards the last cell. The light from your candle flickers, casting awkward shadows against the stone as you near the bars. There had been two of them, hauled in spitting and hissing at last light a month back and while Bakugo had endured, his companion hadn't fared as well under the cities charge. 'Midoriya...'

You press yourself to the bars. Slumped against the far wall, Midoriya's head hangs over his hips. His shirt is torn, exposing most of his right arm and chest allowing you to see the thick strips of flesh that have been torn from his bicep. The muscle-fibre underneath pulses, red and angry, but the wound is dry. It looks as though it's been that way for a while. You swallow. 'Midoriya.'

'He's dead.' Bakugo's voice shakes the unsteady silence. 'That'll happen when you flay a man like that. Weak disposition be damned, he did well to last as long as he did.'

You lock a gasp behind your teeth and step back, a hand covering your mouth.

'You couldn't have saved him, princess.' Bakugo's rings clink as he wraps a large palm around the bar of his cell.

'I -.' Forcing yourself to look away from the dead man, you drift silently back to Bakugo.

Overturning a palm, he flexes his fingers in quiet request and smirks when the soft of your skin meets the rough of his. 'Not even your hands can suture wounds that deep.'

You swallow. The odd shapes Bakugo traces into your skin feel repetitive, but calm your nerves, each loop and twist settling the void in your stomach.

Licking his lips, he blinks up at you. 'That'll happen to me too, ya'know... Eventually.'

'Don't say that.' Whispering, you lean forward, pressing in close to the bars. At this distance you'd guess he could feel your breath against his cheeks, after all, you can feel his. Each soft exhale makes you shiver and lean into him further.

'It's the truth.'

'Katsuki -.'

Bakugo bites at his lower lip and let's his forehead hit the bars. 'You could stop it.'

'Katsuki. I -.'

'You just need to give me the key.'

You sigh and press further forward. Your head would touch to his if it had not been for the bars. Bars that needn't be there. 'You know I can't.'

'What'll it take, Princess...'

Something squirms in your stomach. You had only intended to peek that night when they had first been hauled in and yet... Your feet continue to lead you back here. Since, you've risked your neck to bring them bread and extra mutton, thread and needles and poultice for their wounds. You've brought them all that you could, but you'd never expected them to take something of their own.

Despite being behind bars, somehow, Captain Bakugo Katsuki has stolen your heart.

And he knows it.

'Take me with you...' The words leap from your tongue, your hand curling to cling to him. 'Take me with you and I'll steal the key.'

A smile tugs at Bakugo's mouth, forcing his lip to curl over pointed teeth. Keeping his eyes trained on yours, he dips his head to press his lips to your knuckles. 'You want to be a Captain's whore, Princess?'

His words make you shiver. 'Your whore.'

'I think I like the sound of that...' Not for the first time, Bakugo wonders just what you'd taste like. Delicious, he'd bet, but a sweet little thing like you deserves to be savoured. '...If that's what my Princess wants.'

Your eyes widen. 'You'd – You'd take me?'

'Why not?'

Excitement zips down your spine making you stand straighter. Bakugo's lips are rough and itch at your skin, but that doesn't stop the heat that bubbles in your stomach when he lays a second kiss on the bend of your ring finger. 'Really?'

'You get me that key and...'

Rooting about under your skirts, you twist and turn for a second before pulling back a closed fist. You'd pick-pocketed one of the guards weeks ago, hoping that Midoriya's worsening wounds wouldn't require an impromptu breakout attempt. Turns out, you'd be been right, just not in the way you'd hoped. Unfurling your fingers, you reveal a set of small, silver keys.

'Oh, you little -.' Bakugo laughs. The sound is sharp and bounces off of the walls for a heartbeat before you slam your hand over his mouth to quiet him. He winks and kisses your palm.

'Quiet.'

Lowering his voice, he grins wide before dropping your hand in favour of wrapping a hand around the back of your neck. He pulls you in, forcing both of your cheeks to crush against the bars, but the soft reward of your lips is enough to make him bear the discomfort.

You gasp, but fall into the kiss all too easily. The grip he has on your neck guides you, tipping back your head until he can press his tongue against the seam of your lips and lick inside. Moaning, you let him devour you, moving in rhythm with him as the kiss deepens impossibly and then... The key slips from your hand.

'Now.' Bakugo pulls back. Throwing the keys up in the air, he catches them again like he hadn't slipped them from your palm moments before. 'You should go -.'

Your eyebrows knit. The taste of him lingers on your tongue, but before any words of protest can be propelled from your lungs he's continuing.

'… Pack only what you can carry and meet me back here a beat before sun-rise. We'll barter passage on one of the leaving merchant ships.' He kneads his thumb against your jaw while he talks, enjoying how pliant you are under just one of his hands.

'Okay.'

'Can you do that for me, Princess?'

'Yeah... Yes.' You nod and take hold of his wrist, urging yourself someone deeper into his hold.

Bakugo smiles, tilting his head. 'Good girl.' Leaning in, the next kiss he presses to your mouth is soft and long. A sigh breaches the seam of your lips and he swallows it eagerly, inhaling as much of you as he can before pulling back only to peck your lips again. 'Now, go...'

Reluctantly, you step back beyond his reach. Your heart is hammering in your chest as you tip-toe back across the stone floor and slip back into your shoes at the foot of the stairs. With a new hope burning in your veins you twist on the bottom step and smile back at your captain whispering a soft: 'I'll be back.' into the darkness and then, you're gone.

It takes you barely a moment to pack your entire life into a sack small enough to bundle in your arms, but the first bell of dawn hasn't even rung before you're sneaking back out towards the cells. The shadows swallow you, letting you vanish into the darkness still clinging to the city.

Anticipation makes each of your steps quicker, makes your heart sing as you imagine salt spray and oceans as far as you can see. You wonder where you'll sleep. If you'll bunk with the crew or be welcomed into the captain's personal quarters. You wonder how often he'll kiss you. How often he might gift you more... If he really will make you his whore. The thought makes you giddy, makes you move somehow quicker as desperation creeps up through your legs.

'Katsuki...' You've taken your shoes off at the top of the tower this time, careful not to make any noise and spoil your escape. The stone is cold on your feet, but it doesn't slow you down. 'Katsuki.'

Squinting into the darkness, you leap from the last step and hurry to his cell. 'Katsuki – I.'

The door swings open as soon as you lay a hand on it. Inside, a set of manacles lay on the floor open and abandoned. Slipping into the cell, you look around as if he might morph from one of the walls or manifest himself from shadow. He doesn't. Instead, you're forced to reduce yourself to your knees, overtaken by the sudden rush of emotion that batters its way out of your chest. You want to scream, want to slap yourself for trusting a pirate, for letting your silly, little emotions get the best of you.

Swiping for the manacles your breath jams in your throat, heart stopping as you catch sight of glittering letters scratched into the metal. In rough hand caused by the sharp edge of one of the keys is a message: 'On another tide, my Princess. Your captain sends his regards.'

The wind whips at the skin of Bakugo's cheeks as he slips below deck on the heels of his first mate. His hand clings to the bannister, the wood scuffing against the rough of his palm as he descends. It had taken years for him to find his ship again, his crew... Years to re-build what had been taken from him. Now, a month or so shy of a decade, he was once again one of the most feared pirates the sea had ever seen.

The grain of the ship's bannister snags at him, but he doesn't remove his hand from her walls as they turn from the crews sleeping quarters and make their way to the dry store. 'There best be a good reason for me being dragged down here, Red. I swear if this is another excuse to get me alone, I -.'

Kirishima hisses at him. 'Of course there's a good reason.' He stops dead, forcing the Captain to bump into his back. 'And if I wanted to get you alone, I'd simply lay in your bed and call for you. You're hardly hard to tempt...' A smirk plays at his lips as his eyebrows arch, forming neat little half-arcs on his forehead. 'Captain.'

A growl bubbles in Bakugo's throat as he wraps a large palm around the bottom of Kirishima's jaw. 'Have I ever told you how pretty you are when you -.'

'Yes, yes.' Shaking off Bakugo's touch, Kirishima shivers before moving off again. 'I'm the prettiest jewel you've ever stolen, best lay on the ship. I'll suck your cock later, if someone else doesn't get to you first, but right now, we have a problem.'

Bakugo grunts, but follows on wordlessly – trying to remain undistracted by the dull hardness stretching out his breaches.

It takes barely a moment before Kirishima's palm is meeting the door of the dry store and forcing it open to reveal what he has trapped within.

Bakugo clicks his tongue. 'Well, well, well... Would you like to tell me why you've bound one of my rigging boys in his own ropes?'

Just inside the room, laying against the tied down kegs of ale is Monoma. He's sat on his hands, his shoulders curved causing his chest to concave as he struggles weakly against his bindings. Sweat slicks his hair to his brow and trickles down his neck, dripping onto the pale skin of his chest that is exposed by a torn shirt.

'Caught this one in the nest with a scope and a mirror...' Leaning back against the wall, Kirishima crosses his arms and props a foot up against the wood. 'He was sending light signals off the bow.'

'Ah.' Squatting down before Monoma, Bakugo cocks his head. 'And why would he be doing that, ha?'

A cold chill rocks down Monoma's spine when the Captain leans in and licks at his teeth. 'I -.'

'Now.' Reaching forward, Bakugo squashes Monoma's cheeks between his fingers. 'I'd think twice about lying, mate. You wouldn't be much good with the rigging if I cut all your fingers off, would ya?'

Swallowing down hard, Monoma shakes. 'They paid me.'

'I'd be mad if they didn't, I was the one who taught you pirates don't do shit without gold... Who? For what?'

'The – the...'

'The, the, the -.' Bakugo babbles back, a wicked grin taking his lip as he administers a firm slap across Monoma's cheek.

The force turns his head, stopping the words trickling over his lips. He pauses. 'The woman... She, she approached me while we overnighted on I-Island. Offered me a sum if I would help her tail us in open water... I've been sending her light signals at dawn.'

Bakugo slaps him again. 'How much did she pay?'

'A – a couple hundred pieces and a night with one of her crew.' With red cheeks, Monoma tries to shuffle backwards. His eyes flicker from the floor to the Captain and back again.

'You...' Bakugo barks out a laugh. 'You little shit, you.'

From behind him Kirishima snorts and taps his boot against the wall. A coy smile itches at his lip as something proud twinkles in his eyes. 'I told you we shouldn't have taken him on board, Captain.'

'I know. Stop your gloating.' Standing, Bakugo stretches out his spine and thumbs at the dimples in his back.

'Should I toss him overboard? Or...' Kirishima's teeth shine, biting soft into his lower lip. 'Better yet...' Stepping forward, his hand falls to the large curved knife secured to his hip. 'I could cut pieces off him and feed it to that shark I've been trying to tame.'

Holding up a hand, Bakugo can't help the smirk that takes his lip. 'Can't let you turn him into fish food just yet, Red. First we need to know -.'

'Captain!'

Bakugo's head drops down at the sound of Kaminari's voice. He pinches the bridge of his nose. 'I swear if that little idiot has got himself caught in the ropes again, I -.'

'Captain!' The second shout comes from a new voice. It's higher in pitch, but of a firmer tone and is accompanied by the sound of a boot stomping on the wood overhead.

'Shit.' Perking up, Bakugo exchanges a worried look with Kirishima before they're both scrambling back towards the stairs and racing their way back onto the deck.

Light blinds them both as they emerge, arms shielding their faces, but it doesn't take long to spot the source of the disturbance.

Kaminari is tangled in the rigging, his legs twisted around the ropes allowing him to lean forward and hold a telescope to his eye. He pulls back, stretching an arm out towards the horizon before shooting an eyebrow raised smile at Bakugo. 'Ship!'

Bakugo answers. 'What are her colours!'

'She's not flying any, Cap.' Mina strides across the deck, her swords already unsheathed and hanging at her sides. Stopping a foot from Bakugo, she presses both of her weapons into one hand to yank the telescope from her belt and hands it over. 'Your orders?'

Snatching the telescope from Mina, Bakugo glares through it while scowling. Through the small lens, he can see it. A ship, a little smaller than his own, sails on the horizon. White foam is spitting from its stern, the water parting quick as it cuts through the water towards him. Under his gaze, the white sheets hanging from the masts are hauled down, replaced quickly by sails of total and complete black. Biting his cheeks, Bakugo licks his teeth as he lowers the scope and passes it back to Mina. He looks back at Kirishima and nods. 'Alright boys, let's give our kin a warm welcome!' From the back of the small crowd of crew gathered on deck, Sero smiles crooked and excited.

'The cannons?'

'The fucking cannons!' Grinning from ear to ear, Bakugo leaps to action striding across the deck towards the helm. 'Red, bring her round. We'll meet her head on. Mina – take the defence, I want any ladders that land on our rails burnt. Sero -.'

'… Holes as big as I can manage, no damage to the hull.' Sero waves his hand above his head, flashing Bakugo another large smile before descending below deck with a small squad of cannon boys on his heels.

'Kaminari!'

'Yes, Captain?' Somersaulting from a section of netting high between the masts, Kaminari almost breaks his neck landing on the deck, but manages, somehow, to right himself before he meets hard wood.

'Get in the nest. I want to know exactly what we're dealing with.'

Tossing a lazy salute, Kaminari is scuttling back into the rigging before Bakugo can bark out any more commands.

With the whole ship put to orders, Bakugo takes up post by Kirishima as his first mate strains to turn the boat around. The wheel fights him, the water below tugging awkwardly, but the man's broad shoulders make short work of the struggle.

'You think this is Monoma's woman?'

Bakugo grunts. 'Probably got twitchy after this mornings signal wasn't sent. Figured her little rat had been discovered...' Inhaling deep, his fingers play at the hilt of his sword; the other slipping inside his jacket to feel the hard curve of his pistol. '… Decided it was better to act now than risk having us plan something she couldn't control.'

He shrugs. 'I'd almost say she was smart had she not chosen our ship to attack.'

A wide grin takes Kirishima's lip. 'She'll certainly be in for a shock, Captain.'

'That she will indeed.'

Waves lap at the sides of the boat as Kirishima's brute strength forces her to turn. Overhead, gulls scream anxiously awaiting the oncoming bloodshed as they power forward, carving through the ocean.

'Ready, boys?' Bakugo unsheathes the sword at his hip, his ringed hands playing out an odd tune as he readjusts his grip on the metal.

There's mania reflecting in the burning of his iris', a wide grin splitting his lips as he narrows his eyes and spins on a heel to face his crew.

Gathered on deck the crew wait with baited breath. In their hands an all manner of weapons shine, axes and maces, swords and worn, wooden pistols all jitter as their owners shake and twist their wrists.

'Aye, aye Captain!'

The chorus makes the skin on Bakugo's chest blister, goosebumps coating his skin as the shouts of his crew wash over him. With the sea spray on his face and his prey set firmly in his sights, he feels unstoppable. His chest puffs up, throat already raw as he lets loose a terrifying scream. 'To the depths with her! Leave none unharmed – The one who brings her Captain to me alive earns their pick of the loot!'

'And what if I don't want any of their loot?' Mina tips back her hat and cocks an eyebrow.

Bakugo pretends to think. 'The pick of the women then! If you can turn on your charm for long enough to convince 'em to slip into your bed.'

A fierce grin takes her lip as he hoists the sword in her right hand high above her head. 'That's more like it, Captain. I'll have a new lady to warm my bed tonight, lads.'

Another chorus, this one accompanied by the stamping boots of Sero's cannon hands below as they finally lay sight on their target. The air is whip sharp, cutting as they make their approach. Under the hull, the waves part easily – sliced as the boat cuts through the ocean with a speed no longer seen in the large admiral fleets of the surrounding empires.

'She's not turning, Captain.' Kirishima mumbles. His hands are white against the wood, tugging her still as they press against the water. With the wind on their side, they'll be upon the other ship in moments; but she's made no move to turn away.

'Just makes her an easier target, my love.'

'She's turning to face us, Captain.'

The salt air scratches at your cheeks as you lean into the wind. 'I wouldn't expect anything less.' Your fingers tense, palm squeezing at the metal hilt of your sword where it hangs at your hip. There's a smile playing at your mouth, one you break only to lick the dryness from your lips. You've been waiting years for this, but now the moment is within reach, you find your skin buzzing with bee stings. The manacle forced shut around your wrist feels heavy now. Spinning on the ball of your boot, your stride to the edge of the bridge and lean over it's edge.

Below the crew stutter to a stop. They're a motley bunch, picked up from various ports and won through too many drunken games of cards – a crew of opportunity and circumstance if you ever saw one. A few even still wear the dark navy tail-coats of the Ingenium company, although now the rich cotton is sun bleached and stained, making them look no better than the low-life drunks who they serve beside.

Sparing a glance at the mast, you smirk at the man tied to it and adjust his hat on your head. For the most part, Tenya Iida had been a good sport when you'd commandeered his ship and bound him with his own rigging. He'd struggled, for a time, but a good few days gagged without food had sorted him right out. Now, he tends to yell odd instructions that no-one listens to and lectures the seagulls on the proper running of a ship. 'Loot what you want!' You shout over the crashing of the waves against the hull. 'But, leave their Captain to me.'

'Aye, Captain!'

The echoing chorus fills your stomach and makes your chest swell. 'To your stations, lads. We've got a ship to take.'

'Captain!' At the helm, Momo flicks her hair over her shoulder. It's waist length now, with a series of pretty braids that start at her temples and tie together at the base of her skull; each of which are adorned with a series of shiny trinkets - souvenirs from the various drinking games she's won.

You turn, flicking up your eyebrows as the crew scramble to their posts. The sound of old leather boots almost drowns out Momo's words as she yells out over the wind.

'They're speeding up!' Momo's chest heaves as she shouts, her eyes wide and steeled.

Dropping your jaw, you haul in a breath for an answering shout, but before the words can leap from your tongue there is another voice rising above the noise.

'Cannons!' Tokoyami is horizontal as he swings nimbly down the rigging from the crows nest. He dangles effortlessly above the deck, the ropes wrapped around his joints as he cups his hands around his mouth.

You nod. 'I want to know everything you see.'

Without another word Tokoyami is scrambling back to his perch, his eyes already squinted and trained on the approaching vessel.

There's a broken kind of nervousness that trickles through your veins as you watch the crew ready the boards. Three lean strips of wood, steadied by four strong hands wait, swaying in the wind on deck. In barely a moment, they'll be dropped. You swallow and wet your lips, feeling for the worn and yellowed page tucked safely away in the inside pocket of your coat.

Soon, the ship will be on you and in amongst all of the chaos to come... You'll find him.

Bakugo slashes out with his right hand, the curve of his sword gliding easily through the throat of an advancing pirate. There's a wicked grin pulling at the corners of his mouth, a spark igniting in the depths of cold crimson as he rotates his shoulder, taking down another man. Pausing, he kicks out, sending a third body to the floor before a keen twist of his wrist dyes the edges of his blade red.

Licking at his teeth, he stills – taking stock of the new space around him. A mess of bodies litters the deck. Both the wounded and dead lay side by side in pools of seeping blood, as their comrades battle on around them, not able to care too much where their feet land. Bakugo bites his tongue to stop a smile. Somewhere in the bloodbath, he can hear Kirishima laughing. The noise is like music, sharp and yet, soft – melodic as it catches the wind and finds its way back into his ears. He spins, eyes keen and searching as they land upon his second mate.

Kirishima has his hand wrapped around the neck of man. He flails in his grasp, nails scratching desperately at the thickest parts of Kirishima's forearms as his legs kick out, trying and failing to strike the large chest in front of him. 'Well that isn't going to get you anywhere...'

The man wheezes, dropping one hand to his belt. His fingers scratch at the leather, digging and twisting frantically as he works to free a small stiletto dagger. The hilt slips into his palm, allowing his hand to tighten to white around it, but before he can even lift the weapon to strike a sickening crack stops him in his tracks.

Cocking his head, Kirishima's sighs as if disappointed. His fist is white knuckled, with thin rivers trickling over the dips of his fingers as he tosses the, now limp, body to the floor.

The show of strength forces Bakugo to readjust himself in his breeches; but he's barely given a second to appreciate the sight of his second spitting on the next man he sends to the floor before an ear splitting laugh is ricochetting around the insides of his skull. He'd rush, if he hadn't already heard the noise one thousand times before...

Across the deck, Mina has a body squashed under the sole of her boot. The man writhes, eyes torn wide and terrified as he claws at the wood he lays on. The pressure on his chest keeps him pinned, stops him wriggling too far away as Mina flashes him a deadly wink and presses to tip of her blade closer to his throat.

'Let it be known...' Licking her lips, she lets another chuckle bubble up her throat. She reaches up, grabbing at the loose collar of her shirt with a tight fist and pulls, yanking open the material. The shirt falls open, clinging together by a singular button at her navel – just above her pants and exposes the hot, flush of her dark chest. 'That you where killed by a woman.'

'Please... Fuck – Don't...'

Mina ignores the pleas, letting them fall on deaf ears as she rolls her eyes and slices the man's throat.

He coughs twice before his lips are stained red. The gash in his throat is deep enough that he doesn't suffer, but that doesn't stop the ice cold dread that seems to fall upon the surrounding pirates.

Spinning on her heel, Mina wrenches her other sword from her belt and brandishes it at her hips. Her chest heaves, tit's framed by her open shirt as she swings herself around to face her next opponent. She cocks an eyebrow and snarls, lips pulling back over her teeth as she watches the new man in front of her almost wet himself with panic. 'Now, who's next boys...'

Laughing, Bakugo drags his eyes away from Mina's performance. She's always enjoyed a spectacle, but he must admit that this might be his favourite yet. Under his feet, blood seeps making each of his steps awkward and slippery. His boots refuse to grip, making fighting difficult as he slices through another pirate. Almost sliding to his knees, he clenches his jaw – eyes searching the clashing rabble in search of the source of his troubles.

Whoever captains the other ship is going to rue they day, they ever decided to place a target on his back.

The first step is the easiest. The board wobbles under your boots, giving and swaying as the ships lean closer together. Already, there are holes littering both hulls. The marks of exchanged cannon fire has scorched the varnished wood, spewing the scent of burning into the air. It's thick, the smoke cloying your lungs as you draw your sword and take another step.

On your heels Uraraka already has her blade drawn. There's a wicked glee in her eye as she bounces the plank, hurrying you along. 'In front, Captain.'

A man with a missing eye blocks your path. He grins, wide and gap-toothed as he reaches for his belt and the large mace he has slid into the leather. Twisting it over in his palm, he barely has time to reel back his arm before there are a pair of boots colliding with his chest.

Tokoyami twists before he hits the deck, his arms spreading like wings as he lands another kick on the jaw of a man to his left.

'Captain...' He huffs breathing hard. 'Are you -.'

Clearing the last of the plank, you plant a hand on Tokoyami's shoulder and squeeze. 'Thank you... Now -.'

'Bring me your strongest man and watch me reduce him to his knees!' Uraraka's voice is high-pitched and delicate, more fitting a princess than a pirate as she spits at her feet as swings an easy elbow into the women attempting to shift the boards from the side. Chewing on her lip, she scans the scene eyes bright as she claps eyes on a mountain of man. 'You!' She screams. 'Come meet my blade.'

With the lower half of the man's jaw obscured with a bandana, you're forced to focus in on the way his eyes widen. He sets his stance, grey hair flopping lazily into his eyeline as he raises his axe high enough to clash with Uraraka's blade.

They twist, the sound of scraping steel poisoning the air as the man takes a step back to swing. The muscle in his shoulder bulges, dark veins popping as he once again attempts to crush Uraraka with his strike.

She dodges him easily. Pirouetting, she barely gives enough time for her back foot to catch the grip of the wood beneath her before she's launching herself back into the air and straight at the man before her. 'Is that all you've got? Don't tell me you're going to be a disappointment...'

You're not given long to admire Uraraka's zeel as you duck a mace aimed for your head. The weapon skims your head, missing by millimetres as you drop to a knee and slash at the man's calf. He goes down with a scream. Leaping back to your feet, you send your heel into his nose at the same time your steel sinks deep into the tissue of his shoulder, severing the joint as he slumps forward at your feet.

Beside you, Momo reels her fist back. The skin of her knuckles is blooming, purple marring the paleness of her fingers as she flicks off specs of blood. 'It's been a while since we've had a good fight.' She grins, flashing pearled teeth. 'Remind me to thank you when we're celebrating later.'

Rolling your eyes, you push your way further into the fray. With the fight reaching a crescendo on all sides, you're forced to duck and weave to keep moving. Anticipation makes your skin itch, your whole body pulled taught as you side step another stray sword and scan the mess of bodies clashing together on the deck.

He's here.

You know he is.

You just have to -

'Oi, Princess. This your shit show of a crew bleeding all over my deck?'

You press your tongue to a back molar as his voice manages to shatter the chaos around you. There's a fire, steady and strong already stoking in your chest as the full force his betrayal repeats on you. Grinding your teeth, you haul in a breath and press shut your eyes; willing your body to contain it's rage for just a moment. 'Need I remind you...' You turn and cock your head, eyebrows high on your head as you glare. 'That I'm not your Princess.'

There's ice in Bakugo's vein's when he lays eyes on you, but he's soon thawed out by the rage burning in your eyes. He barks a laugh, willing his shoulders to roll before they lock and leave him defenceless. He never thought he'd see you again...

'Oh,' he cocks his head, slipping easily back into his cocky persona. 'But, you wanted to be, didn't ya... Sweetheart.' Swallowing, he juts out his hip, just enough to lean on the sword he slides back into it's sheath with a limp wrist and barks out a laugh. 'So, what? You missed me so much that you travelled the entire seven seas just to crawl into my bed, huh?'

Swallowing bile, you blink slowly to compose yourself; but your hand moves quickly as soon as Bakugo takes a step forward. It's muscle memory, easy, as you levy the blade at his throat and press the tip against his jugular; preventing him from slinking any closer.

'C'mon, Sweetheart. Don't be like that.' He laughs, feeling the way his Adam's apple grates against the blade with each twitch.

You scowl. 'I don't think you have any right to tell me how to act, Bakugo.' Spitting his own name at his feet, you press the blade closer into his throat. For a moment, you entertain the thought of slitting it, of cutting him open and watching him bleed out; but then, how would you get your answers.

He rolls his eyes, not even blinking as your sword dents his skin. 'What can I do for you then, Princess?' Savouring the pet name, he makes sure to keep your eye as the embers flare. 'If you're not here to be my whore.'

Gritting your teeth, you lick over your lip before gesturing the on-going chaos with a tip of your hat. 'Call off your men.'

A bark of a laugh leaps from his chest. 'And pray tell why the fuck I'd do that.'

'Because I want answers...' His mouth drops open to speak, some witty one-line retort already furled at the back of his tongue, but before he can loose it into the air, you raise your eyebrows. 'And in return, I have information about One for All.'

Bakugo stills. His expression is unreadable, eyebrows kept tight as his mouth flattens to a thin line. The muscle in his jaw ticks. 'And I can trust that you'll call off your crew?'

You nod.

'Men... Stand down!'

Echoing his shout, you call your crew to a stalemate.

It's a ghostly sound, the absence of noise in a place that was once full of it. The sudden lack of screams and bloodshed make the air around the ship ring as everyone slowly, turns their eyes to you.

'Should I be following you back to your ship...' Bakugo chuckles, licking at his teeth. 'Captain.'

'No.'

Your bluntness stuns him, making him lean back on a heel as he regards you with soft suspicion. 'And why would that be?'

You chuff. 'I'd rather you not damage my ship when I tell you what I have to say... You're not the most, subtle, of men.'

Choosing to ignore your insult, Bakugo lowers his head before spinning on his heel to address his crew once more. 'You heard the lady – a truce, then, for the moment. Back to your jobs, lads. Clean the blood from the decks and escort our visiting Captain's crew back to their ship before they make the place look cluttered, ha?'

Re-sheathing your sword at your hip, you hold up a hand and push back into Bakugo's space. 'I want Uraraka and Yoamomo to accompany me.'

Squinting, Bakugo's eyes roam the ship. 'And who would -.'

'Here, Captain.' Yaoyarozu slinks forward, elbowing pirates out of her way as she goes. Her blouse is almost entirely covered in blood, but even the dousing she has received is nothing to how Uraraka looks.

Clinging to Yaoyarouzu's shoulder, Uraraka looks as though she's been bathed in red. Her face is dyed, cheeks blush bright with splatters as large as chicken pox littering her features. Much of her hair is matted, clumped with viscera that drips from brunette strands and onto her shoulders . She limps forward, each step causing her to wince and drag her left foot, the ankle refusing to bare weight as she uses Yaoyarozu as a crutch; but despite it all – she looks perfectly overjoyed.

Bakugo looks the pair up and down before pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth and whistling. 'In that case: Kirishima! Mina!'

Kirishima is at his side in a flash. His sword is still drawn and held low, his knuckles tight and white around it's hilt. 'Captain?'

'Put that away!'

Bakugo might pretend to bark at his second, but you don't miss the soft way he wraps his fingers around the others hand and squeezes softly.

When Mina arrives, she looks no better than Uraraka. Her shirt is torn entirely, exposing the plump roundness of her breast as she cocks a hip and takes up post on Bakugo's other side. In one of her hands, she holds a blade. In the other, an already stained cloth that she uses to clean down the edges of her sword. 'So, she pretty enough to evoke a stale mate or do you two have business?' Her eyes flicker over you feeling rough, but her attention is soon stolen by Uraraka.

Mina winks.

Uraraka, somehow, blushes underneath all of the blood covering her face.

'Shall we?' You tilt your head and blink lazily.

'As you wish, Princess.' Bakugo smirks before turning on a heel and making his way down the ship towards the Captain's quarters.

There's a soft tittering behind you, a mixture of your crew's and Bakugo's as the pet name lingers in the air; but whatever thoughts spin around people's heads, no-one is brave enough to speak them.

That is, except for Mina.

'So... You fucked this one then, Captain?' She skips alongside him, boots almost skating on the blood underfoot as she slaps him on the back.

'That's none of your -.'

'No.'

Mina bites her tongue as your and Bakugo's voice blend to one. Her hand slips from his back as she falls into line with Kirishima once more. 'Ah... So, it's like that then.'

Bakugo glares at her over his shoulder. 'It is. Now, if you wish to keep your tongue, you'll shut up.'

'You can't do that, Captain!' Tossing up her hands, Mina clasps both of her hands over her heart and spins, catching Uraraka's eye before curling her tongue around every single word that drips from her mouth. 'It's my best feature.'

Uraraka splutters, managing a subtle: 'Second best' as her eyes drift down Mina's collar.

Ducking under the ornate rails of the ships upper staircase, Bakugo reaches up to rest a hand against the door frame, while searching the inner layers of his shirt. He hums, curling his fingers against his chest as he retrieves a thick golden key kept on twine around his neck. Not bothering to take the key from around his neck, he stoops to unlock the door and holds it open with a large palm splayed against the wood. 'Ladies first.' He smirks.

You roll your eyes and ignore the way your saliva dries out in your mouth. Fixing a new scowl onto your features, you dip your head in cordial thanks before slipping past him and ensuring not even your elbow scrapes his chest.

'The last door on the left should suit our conversation, unless you do really wish to have a more personal kind of talk.' His voice echoes softly down the short corridor, smooth and silky as it sinks into your ears.

Slamming a hand on the door in question, you sigh. 'This will suffice.'

Vanishing into the room, you don't bother to hold it open for him.

The cabin is larger than you'd expected, with a bulky desk that occupies most of the space. An assortment of papers litters it's surface. Some are maps, while others bare strange markings and delicately written hand that look almost indecipherable to your eye. Aside them is too many bottles of rum, all opened and in various stages of being drunk; their corks long forgotten or discarded on the mahogany floor that creeks as you step inside.

The door opens again, allowing a slither of light to trickle in from the corridor before it's blocked by Bakugo's bulk. 'This is as far as your seconds go, I'm afraid.' He braces an arm against the doorframe blocking the path.

Uraraka walks straight into him, almost clotheslining herself on the muscle of his bicep. 'Captain!'

'There's sensitive stuff in here I'd rather not let prying eyes see.' Growling, Bakugo glares over his shoulder, but refuses to move.

You raise your eyebrows. 'Am I not prying eyes?'

Huffing a chuckle, he shakes off the shiver that slinks down his spine like a stray raindrop. 'I'll be leaving Mina and Kirishima out there too. If they try anything, I won't be responsible for their actions.'

Making a non-committal noise in the back of your throat, you make a small hand gesture to Uraraka that seems to make her calm. She tosses herself back against the wood of the corridor and folds her arms across her chest, a pout already forming on her lips.

Beside her, Kirishima wears an almost identical expression.

Relaxing his arm, Bakugo pauses for a moment before crossing the threshold and letting the door finally, slam shut. Skirting around the room, he takes up post at his desk, landing lazily into the detailed chair behind it. He lifts his legs, reclining to toss his boots up onto his papers. Crossing his ankles, he moves them under his feet until comfortable and folds his hands across his stomach. 'So...' He smiles, the pointed edges of his incisors flashing above his bottom lip. 'What information brings a little sweet thing like you out here into open waters? Or, where you really just so desperate to see me again?'

You roll your eyes. 'You're of little consequence, these days. Sorry to disappoint your ego.'

He huffs, letting his eyes roll lazily down your body. Piracy looks good on you, apparently: Really good. Your skin is glowing, a side-effect of long days on deck and there's a strength lingering underneath your stature; one he's not sure he'd like to get on the wrong side of.

Cocking your hip, you lean your wrist against the hilt of your sword. 'You're looking for it, aren't you, One for All.'

It's not a question, he notes. The hair on the back of his neck stands on end, pulling tight at his skin as he tenses the muscle between his shoulders to suppress a shiver. 'So fucking what if I am?'

You smile then. It's nice to know all those days blackmailing Monoma into submission didn't all go to waste. 'You're not the only one.'

Bakugo's eyes grow dark, eyelids slipping to half-mast as he regards you carefully. 'Half of the pirates I know are searching for it.' He licks his teeth. 'So, if that's your information, I'm afraid you might have to offer me something more... Satisfying, to satiate me not sinking your ship.' Letting his eyes slip down your body, he doesn't even attempt to hide the slight tenting in his pants as he shifts his ass on his chair. Unclasping his hands, he pets down his thigh, cupping his cock in his palm through his breeches.

'Midoriya.' You annunciate his name clearly, letting it skip off of your tongue.

Bakugo responds as if you've hit him in the face. He sits up, bolt straight as his hands fall to the arms of his chair, knuckles whitening. 'Deku's dead.'

You shrug. 'Guess you don't need the information I have then.'

Pausing for a moment, you observe his silence before slowly turning on your heel. The wood creaks under your boots, screaming out into the silence as you cross the room.

'Wait.' His voice is forced out from between gritted teeth.

Peering over your shoulder, you smirk. 'Yes?'

'I liked you better when you were desperate to bed me.' He growls.

Offering him only the prettiest of smiles, you turn back to yank at the chair facing him and slip yourself into it. 'And I preferred you behind bars...' Leaning back, you kick one leg over the other. 'Now, about those answer's I wanted.'

'Speak your wishes, Princess.'

'I'll tell you a little...' You run a hand over the leather of your boot admiring how the splatters of blood shine in the low light. 'To wet your appetite and then, I want what I came for.'

Bakugo tries to growl and keep his eyes sharp, but there's no denying the warm swell of pride that lingers just under his breast bone. He inclines his head, asking for you to continue.

'The night you escaped, you thought Midoriya dead, but you were wrong. Had you let me actually check over him, instead of attempting to seduce me to escape, we might have actually avoided all of this.'

'Attempted.' Bakugo licks his teeth. 'I think we both know you were practically dripping onto the stone that night.'

You fix him with a glare. 'That's not the point... Midoriya rolled. The guard convinced him to work for them. He's to find One for All and in return, they won't hang you.'

'They'd have to catch me first.'

Raising an eyebrow, you tilt your head. 'They did: twice.'

The muscle in Bakugo's jaw ticks. 'You're working for them.' Standing, he slams his palms down onto the table. 'You conniving little -

'Luckily for you -.' Ignoring his outburst, you fix him with a glare. 'I have alterer motives.'

He tuts.

'Thanks to Midoriya, I am one of only three people privy to the last whereabouts of All Might and I'm also in possession of the map that leads there.' You tap your nails against your knee, letting your eyes roam over Bakugo's features. The vein in his temple jumps with his pulse, his hands once again whitening and tight on the arms of his chair.

Leaning back, he forces himself to relax. 'And what do you want for this information of yours, assuming that I even believe you.'

You smile. 'I want to know why you abandoned me.'

A bark of a laugh leaves his throat then. 'Oh, you sweet fool. You travelled all this way, got yourself entangled in Gods know what, became a fucking pirate all because I hurt your precious little feelings?'

'Need I remind you that you are sitting where you are, only because of me.' You fix him with a steel glare, but your face tells nothing of the storm swirling in your chest.

'I would have -.'

'You would have rotted in that cell, don't let your ego betray your intelligence.'

Bakugo grits his teeth. 'Why do you care so badly?'

'Why won't you say it?' Swallowing, you press your tongue to your teeth. 'Are you that scared to say you developed even a little affection for me?'

Glowering, Bakugo licks at his teeth sucking air in through them harshly.

'There's talk about you in almost every port, y'know.' You sigh and tilt your head, rolling it onto one shoulder as a coy smile tugs at your lip. 'They talk about you like a bad case of the itch. Say that you think with your cock and don't care what happens afterwords, but they're wrong, aren't they?' Leaning forward, you brace your elbows on the table. 'If you really didn't care, you'd have taken me with you and used me. I had money, a station so to speak, talents you could have used, but you didn't. You left me. Why?'

Sighing, Bakugo hangs his head. 'What do you want me to say, Princess.'

You don't complain at the pet name this time, instead you catch his eye and blink.

'Fuck.' Rolling his shoulders, he sinks in his chair and bites his lip. 'That month we spent together, with you tending me through those damn bars was the longest month of my life... I – I never expected to get attached to you.'

'So it was attachment that caused you to leave me behind, supposedly safe and sound?' You arch an eyebrow, urging him on.

He snorts. 'Something like that...'

'Ah.'

'I'm not going to say I was in love with you.' Tensing his jaw, Bakugo snaps. Having you close again is fraying his nerves and making him itchy. If only he could touch you, he's sure he could calm his nerves.

You swallow. He looks wild, eyes wide and honest despite the lies he is trying to clench behind his teeth. 'I never asked you to.'

'Because I'm not.' He lies.

'Okay.'

'I wouldn't even know how... As you've so kindly pointed out, it's not exactly my forte. I'd have to think with more than just my cock for that, wouldn't I?' He laughs and it's an ugly thing. A burst of noise tossed from his throat as he attempts to keep down the bubbling emotion in his chest, something he's not sure is worth locking away any more.

Licking your lips, you haul in a slow breath and offer him a smile. 'I think I could have loved you, had we had more time.'

He swallows the 'me too' lingering on his lips and instead, decides to steady himself folding his arms across his chest.

Standing, you trail your fingertips across the edge of his desk. 'Thank you...' Each step you take makes Bakugo's chest hollow, his heart threatening to jump clean out of his mouth and confess his sins to you in person. 'For your honesty.' Reaching the edge of the desk, you cock a hip and look down on him. With your knees almost knocking together, it's almost too easy to see the way his breath stutters, his Adam's apple bobbing as you take another step forward.

Bakugo swears the world stops spinning when you lean over, hands gripping the recently vacated arms of his chair. You're so close now he could crane his neck to kiss you, but his pride won't let him, not just yet. He grunts, not trusting himself to speak.

'It's a shame really, I think I would have liked it...' Pressing closer still, you part your thighs until you can slide neatly onto his lap.

He takes hold of your waist instantly. His palms squeeze, fingers digging into the fat at your sides tentatively as he wills his cock to not have a mind of it's own, for once. You're warm, searing into his skin as you lift a hand and playfully walk it up his chest to link with the other behind his neck. 'L – Liked what?'

You rock your hips, pushing deeper into his lap until your legs are forced to fold underneath you. Fixing your eyes on his, you let them slide to his lips before speaking. 'Becoming your whore.'

Bakugo's swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing clear in his throat as he refuses, stubbornly, to drop your gaze. In his breeches, his cock swells. The material itches at his head, causing each twitch to bring with it the dull, rough sting of worn cotton as he tries to will himself back to softness.

Cocking your head, you rake your nails over the back of his undercut while letting the other hand wonder down to the clef of his chest. 'So... What do you say, Captain.'

A shiver straightens Bakugo's spine.

'Want to find out what you've been missing all these years?' Leaning into him, you smile when you feel his breath quicken against your lips. 'Want to see what your whore can do?'

Bakugo lets his hands slip, his rough palms skating over the corset at your waist until he can grip your hips and urge your pelvis flush to his. Possessiveness singes his skin. 'His Whore'. The words sounds sweet, delicate and dangerous as he repeats it in his head. His heart sings, beating uncontrollably as he finally, finally gives in to the surge of need simmering in his stomach. Catching his breath, his summons enough of his runaway charisma to flash you his signature, sharp smirk. 'You sure you can handle it, Princess?'

You counter him quickly, pushing him onto the back foot once more. 'Are you sure you can handle me?.. I'm not the naive girl you left back in that tower.'

There's fire in his veins, an inescapable burning that churns inside of him as your touch leaves sparks in its wake. Your confidence riles him. It makes him want to put you back in your place.

Chuckling softly, you nose at his cheek while pressing your tits to his chest. You grind yourself down on his lap, the soft mound of your cunt pressing in close until you can feel the tell-tale heat of his arousal threatening to soak his breeches.

He hisses, gritting his teeth to trap a moan in his throat. Skating his hands down your back, he moves deliberately slow before slipping broad palms under your ass and squeezing: hard. The moan he receives is criminal and fed straight into his ear, so close that he can feel the shake of your breath on the side of your neck as he hoists you up and closer.

Twice his cock twitches, managing to press the briefest of kisses to your clit through the material of your clothes. It sends shock waves through you, making your thighs tense around his hips. Locked in stasis, caught between sense and desire, you swallow down the rising worry that you might be wrong about Captain Bakugo Katsuki after all. He looks at you with fire in his eyes and a cool snarl painted on his lips making your stomach clench uncomfortably.

'You bitch.' He mumbles, the words soft and longing in the back of his mouth, before bringing your lips together.

The kiss starts sweet. There's a delicacy to the way he moves against you, a lingering something that he refuses to communicate in any other way; but it isn't long before the hunger sets in. Sinking into his touch, you move to lock your arms around his shoulders. Your nails scratch at his hair, tugging rough when he sucks your lower lip into his mouth and bites almost enough to earn blood.

Bakugo reels. He yanks at your skirts, hauling them up and over his knee until his hands can touch against your flesh. It's dizzying. Every noise you make has him ravenous, desperate as he lands a harsh slap against your ass.

You squeal and shift, rolling your hips to grind against him. There's too many layers of clothing, but neither of you are coherent enough to rectify the matter as you continue to consume each other, lost to the feel of him as he pulls away to lay a trail of burning kisses down your neck. 'Katsuki...' His name is stolen from your mouth as a particularly harsh scrape of his teeth scratches across your collarbone.

A growl leaves his throat, vibrating against your skin as the elastic band of his willpower snaps. With one swift movement, he squares his shoulders and leans forward, yanking you up off his lap.

Squealing, you cling to him, but you're barely airborne for a handful of seconds before your ass hits the hard wood of his desk. He occupies the space between your thighs like he belongs there. His hips force your legs wide, encouraging you to bend your knees and pull him impossibly closer to steal another kiss.

Even with his eyes closed, Bakugo makes short work of the laces tying shut your shirt. His fingers dip under the material, not bothering with the edges of your corset as he tears free as much as he can. 'Shit...' Pulling back barely an inch, he lets his eyes drop to your exposed chest. 'Fuck, you're so damn pretty.' Dipping his head, he rakes his teeth across the apex of your tit. 'So, fuckin' beautiful...'

Bakugo's bite brings with it a dull sting, but that is nothing compared to the violent shock of pleasure that rocks through your stomach when he takes one of your nipples into his mouth and sucks. His tongue swirls around the bud, his hand coming up to cup your tit as the attention he pays leaves you panting and gasping for air. Your legs lock around him, forcing his aching cock to press against you and relive the growing pulse of your cunt.

Lifting his gaze, he continues to suckle at your chest while soaking in the soft moans that slip from your mouth. From this vantage point he can see it all. Your chest heaves, throat opening as you release another high whine and let your head fall back on your shoulders. It's exhilarating, controlling your body like this – having the woman who was so high and mighty only a few moments before shaking in his gasp with only a few flicks of his tongue. 'Oh, Princess...' He coos, pressing his chin to the valley of your breast. 'You look good when you're desperate.'

Your head snaps up as soon as his mouth leaves your tit, the sensation of his tongue leaving your legs feel weak and your cunt surly leaking onto the dark cream of his breeches. Licking your lips, you reach for him and feel the dull edges of his teeth when you kiss his smirking mouth.

He's right, you think. Your body is alive, buzzing with everything that is him. Distantly, you mourn the idea that you could have had this all along; could have avoided the countless years at sea, the disgusting port towns and near-death bar fights while you searched for him, but all of your musing dies quickly when you feel his cock twitch against you.

Your fingers make quick work of the buttons of his shirt, almost tearing the material as you yank it away from his torso to finally get your hands on the skin of his chest. He's blushed down to his nipples, a rose-hue coating his skin as he shivers and presses into your touch.

'Seems I'm not the only one.'

He huffs, but doesn't refute you. Instead, he cups both of your breasts and rubs his thumbs absently over your nipples. He kisses you before dropping a hand from your tit and letting it skate down the front of your corset, he reaches your thigh, feeling through your skirts. 'Bet you're already wet enough for me to take you, huh Dripping onto my desk just at the idea of getting this cock.'

Mewling into his mouth as he growls filth into your ears, you barely feel his hands tighten on your waist before he's pulling you off the desk and bending you clean over it.

Bakugo wastes no time in hauling up your skirts and flipping them over your ass, leaving you clearly on show for him. The sight makes him clench his teeth. You're soaked. Your underwear is almost translucent and sticking to your skin, giving your cunt a soft sheen. He licks his lips.

'Are you just going to stare?' You twist to look over your shoulder and cock an eyebrow. Anticipation simmers painfully in your stomach, your skin burning for him as you feel his eyes roam your body. You need him to touch you, need to feel his hands, his mouth, his cock.

He chuffs, rolling his eyes. 'Can't a man enjoy the view?' Carefully, he dips his fingers under the edge of your underwear and pulls it away from your skin enough to see your puffy cunt.

You're about to chastise him again, to remind him that you've already wasted enough time in between the tower, the ocean and now; when the elastic of your underwear is snapped against your clit. You squeal and thrash, the pain blooming until it fades to a wonderfully sharp pleasure. Moaning, you try and fidget away, but all that gets you is another dull slap. 'B – Bakugo!'

'Oh, sorry Princess....' Bakugo licks his thumb before pressing it to your clit to sooth the sting. He rubs it softly, giving you enough pleasure to make you whine, but not enough to settle the burning in your stomach. 'Do you want me to be nicer, is that it?'

'I want you to fuck me.' You spit, summoning the rest of your restraint.

Chuckling, Bakugo smirks before leaning down over you and kisses your cheek. He rubs his cock against the cleft of your ass and revels in the way you arch for him before pulling back. His breeches are at his knees in a moment, his underwear shoved unceremoniously under his balls and his sword belt discarded on the floor as he takes his cock in hand. The skin of his palm is slick in seconds. Pre-cum leaks from his tip, drooling eagerly as he gives himself a cursory stroke.

Refusing to resist, you peak, twisting again to see just what Bakugo had been hiding. His cock is thick, thicker than you've ever seen with pale, pearlescent skin that roses towards it's head. The pubic hair surrounding his base is wild and darker than his hair, trailing up until it grows sparse just below his belly button. Your mouth waters.

Pushing up onto your tip-toes you press your ass backwards and wiggle.

A harsh slap makes Bakugo's palm tingle as he brings his hand down on your ass. 'You still want to be my whore, Princess?'

There's a wickedness in his voice, one that makes your knees shake as you feel the dull edge of his cock press against you. He spreads your ass with a hand, revealing yourself and all your neediness to him.

'Yes. Fuck – yes...'

'As you wish, but I'll warn you now...' He sinks into you without any prep and grits his teeth against the tightness of your cunt. Your body squeezes him, pulsing already around the stretch as he bottoms out. 'I'm not gentle with my whores.'

The first thrust takes your breath. You're full, impossibly so – feeling him clearly in your stomach as he slowly, pulls out and sinks back in. Despite his warning, he gives you a few dull strokes to adjust, his pace slow, but firm as he takes a hold of your hips. It's too much and not enough all at once as your body becomes pliant, lost to the feel of him as you finally come together. Hauling in a breath, you flash him a smile of teeth. 'Ruin me... Captain.'

Your words go straight to his cock, making him twitch inside you. He tightens his grip on your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he fucks back into you with a vengeance. Already he's seconds away from losing control, indulging in you enough to meet a premature end, but he's determined to make it last. He's waited long enough after all. 'Don't worry Sweetheart, you'll need carrying back to that ship of yours by the time I'm finished with you.'

His balls hit against your clit with each thrust, sending periodic rushes of pleasure up through your stomach. It's rough, harsh as he treats you like a toy for his end, but your cunt drools betraying your enjoyment.

'Look at you, making a mess, taking me so well...' He grunts, leaning over you to collect your arms and pin them at the small of your back. You arch beautifully, allowing him to hit something delicious inside of you that makes you thrash, but he pays little attention to the moans that trickle from your mouth. Your pleasure is simply a by-product, an accidental consequence of his gruelling punishment. For a moment, he thinks he’s seeing things - a flash of silver contrasted with the skin of your wrist; but then, he’s ripping the sleeve of your shirt and exposing the manacle. ‘Is this what I think it is, Princess?’

You don’t answer, screwing your eyes shut instead.

‘Answer me.’

Another smack against your ass has your eyes rolling back. It's like every nerve in your body is being assaulted. Your cunt grips him, clit twitching with each dull slap of his balls as you're forced to lie still and take him. Words blend into nothingness in your head, every thought slowly replaced by him, until all you can utter is a weak and broken: 'Katsuki.'

'I don't let my whore use my name... It's Captain to you.' He spanks you again just to watch the flesh jiggle. It's hard to deny how incredible you feel, how your body seems to fit his perfectly, how your moans and how his name floats from your tongue has him almost a moment away from losing his mind. Gritting his teeth, he tightens his grip on your wrist and fucks you harder. ‘Now tell me, what’s this pretty little bracelet you’ve got here. Huh?’

'Captain...'

He shouldn't have told you to say it. Fuck. His cock jumps, threatening his end as his title slips off of your tongue. It's exhilarating, hearing you like this, having you with all your wild-cat attitude pinned beneath him and gushing for him. It makes him harder, makes his heart jump and his stomach twist.

'Captain, please...' Tears bead your eyes. You're so close, teetering impossibly close to the edge as he chases his own pleasure while ignoring yours. Still, you can't help the way you body responds. He’s like the worst kind of drug, the one you take knowing it’s going to fuck you up.

Leaning over you, Bakugo releases his grip on your wrists to loop an arm around your neck. Yanking up your head, he grunts into your ear – forcing you to feel just how good your body is making him feel. 'You really do love this, don't you. Love me using you, ha? Love that you're nothing more than a hole for me to get off. No wonder you where begging for me to take you with me. No wonder you kept my little trinket - bet you wore it all this time, ha, Princess? Did you wear it while you fucked yourself? Had other men fuck you and imagine it was me?’ Wrenching your head back, he slips a thumb into your mouth and forces you to drop your jaw. He presses down on your tongue, eyes wide and delirious as he opens his mouth and spits directly onto the muscle. He snarls. ‘Desperate bitch.’

There's a constriction around your throat, one that makes your head swim and your cunt pulse. His arm brackets your shoulders, forcing you still as he pins you with his weight and whispers sin into your ears.

'This is a dream come true for you, ha? Whore.'

That's enough. His voice gravelled and low, laced with the evidence of his pleasure sinks into your ears and causes your entire body to tense. Pleasure bubbles low in your stomach, rising quickly through your body until all you can do is gasp and rock your hips back against him. Your words are garbled, struggling to fit around the fingers he still has wedged in your mouth, but you manage. 'I'm – fuck – Cap – Captain, I'm going to -.'

'That's it. Cum on this cock, Princess.' Bakugo growls, licking a thick stripe up the side of your neck before he bites down, leaving a trail of broken bruises on the soft skin of your neck. He can feel you sucking his fingers, the sensation causing his hackles to rise as his cock throbs at your eagerness.

As soon as he gives you permission, you know you've lost. Your cunt clenches, pulsing around his cock as you cum hard enough for your vision to blur. It makes you feel weightless, your whole body tensing as pleasure washes over you in a series of beautifully drowning waves. Time stands still, everything around you being thrown into pointlessness as your world is wrecked by Bakugo's continued thrusts.

Having you cum on his cock feels like heaven. Kissing up your neck, he releases his hold, slips his fingers from your mouth and stands up gently; rocking his hips as he pushes you closer and closer to overstimulation. Pulling half way out, he pulls open your cheeks, admiring the way your release clings to him easing the slide as he sinks back in. It's mesmerising, watching how your body swallows him, taking everything he has to give despite the fact he knows you're spent. It makes him want you more, makes him want to give you more. Inhaling, he spits again, letting the droplet land square on your hole. ‘Next time…’ He mutters, smoothing a thumb over the puckered flesh of your ass. Testing the stretch, he dips his thumb in until the first knuckle. ‘I’ll fuck you here.’

You gasp. His words causing your body to stir again as your orgasm drags on long enough to make you feel delirious.

‘That’s my girl. Fuck -.’ Bakugo has to focus to stop himself from cumming along with you as your cunt begins to milk him. The tension is perfect, hauling him closer and closer to things he doesn’t want to admit. He’s drunk and at your mercy, despite his cruel words and taunts; right here, now, is the softest he’s felt for years.

Bakugo's hands are on you again as you come down from your high. His cock has gone, the lacking stretch making you feel empty and anxious as he pulls you up and turns you back to face him. Smoothing his thumbs over the apples of your cheeks, he presses only the softest of kisses to your lips before helping you back onto the table. You grip his shoulders, pulling him close. 'Want – want you to finish... Need you – Kat – Katsuki, please.'

'Shh, Princess. Shh. I'll give you what you want, okay. You can have all of it.' This time when he takes up your skirts, he's gentle. Urging the material up your thighs he encourages you back enough to slip between your thighs. His cock presses to your clit, bumping it awkwardly as he shuffles closer.

You jolt and whine, hands still clawing at his shoulders as he takes himself in hand and gives you what you want. This time, the stretch is welcome. He sinks into you slowly and sets a pace that has your ass bouncing on the wood.

'There you are... Good girl, fuck.' Leaning forward, he rests his forehead against yours and prises one of your hands from his shoulders. He entwines your fingers, dropping them to the desk for leverage as he holds you tight, continuing to make the edges of your vision blur. It's soft. Softer than he'd ever wanted to be, but the longer he spends lost in you, the more he realises that there's no escape. He's not sure there ever was.

Whining, you squeeze his hand and lift your eyes to his. Warm rubies stare into your soul, a thousand things he'd never say obvious in the surface of his iris' as he grunts and moans against your mouth. 'Please...' Lifting your legs, you wrap yourself around his waist and pull him impossibly closer.

'Okay, Sweetheart.' He kisses you then, a barley there touching of your lips, before speeding up his thrusts as he uses you to bring him to his own end. Your body responds to him perfectly, tensing and holding him, beckoning him to finish as he grits his teeth and screws shut his eyes.

'Look at me...' You gasp, nosing at his cheek.

He obliges, eyes snapping open as he hurtles towards ecstasy. Looking at you makes it worse. It makes his heart burn as well as his stomach. You're so beautiful, with your clothes half-torn and the evidence of him littering your neck. The light from a near-by window catches each bruise, illuminating them and making each glow in turn.

A dull pang of possessiveness flares in his chest and he feels the tell-tale tightness of his balls pull up, as they prepare to spill. 'I'm – fuck... I'm gonna -.' Pulling back, he tries to slip a hand between your bodies to take hold of his cock; but your legs tighten around him preventing his retreat. He swallows. 'I'm gonna... Fuck, fuck! I can't – Gonna...'

'Inside, please.' You voice sounds wet. Desperation fills your chest. You're not sure when you'll next get the chance to have him, if ever, and the longing drives you to boldness. 'You said you'd give me everything... Said -.'

'Fuck...' Swallowing, he doubles down, sheathing himself completely inside of you. 'Okay, Princess. You – you can have it. Shit.' He knows he shouldn't, knows better than to cum in the women he beds and yet, he finds himself unable to deny you. Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, he wonders if he even wants to. It's too easy after all, to comply, to press his cock deep and spill, hot, thick and white.

His cock kicks inside of you, nudging against your walls and making your eyes roll back. You hadn't thought you could feel any more full, but as he continues to cum, you're proven wrong. Letting your head rock back on your shoulders, you settle into the feeling as Bakugo drops his forehead to your collarbone and pants against your throat.

His nose skates against your skin, eliciting goosebumps in his wake as he mumbles soft, half-words into your skin.

You don't let go of his hand, even basking in your afterglow. Instead, you relax into the rhythm of his breath and the slow stroking of your fingers along the bulk of his shoulders. It's nice, peaceful, the closest thing you've had to happiness in the past few years and still, it's over far too soon.

Eventually, Bakugo's nonsense mumbling turns into solid words. They're still spoken into your shoulder, dulled by the echoes of pleasure that still pluck at his nerves, but there's something sad lingering behind them. 'I'm still not going to say that I love you.'

You chuckle at scratch at his scalp, earning yourself an appreciative hum. 'I'm still not going to ask you too.'

'That's the problem...' He kisses the join of your neck. 'I reckon I could'da been, too… If I'd have taken you with me.'

His words make a black hole open up in your chest. A part of you had known it, of course, but hearing it all out loud from the man himself has your skin breaking out in cold hives. Swallowing, you bend forward and press a kiss into his crown.

'S'not good for a pirate – just means you've got more to lose.' He sighs. 'And I didn't... I don't want to lose you, even if it means I can't have you.' Digging his chin into your chest, he flicks his eyes to yours and tries to look unamused, like he hasn't just bared his heart while seated inside you and staring at your tits. 'That good enough for ya?'

You nod, smiling.

'Right.' Stretching to kiss you, he slips out of you and swallows the moan you release. He can feel his own cum dripping down his cock, warm and sticky against his shaft as he reels back enough to slip you underwear back into place. 'We should...'

You relax the muscle in your legs, letting him step back and fiddle with the edge of his own underwear. He tucks himself back in, using a spare rag to clean himself off before he's yanking up his breeches and fastening them once more. He buttons his shirt then, stopping half way to look up at you. 'Here...'

Abandoning the rest of his buttons, he starts fixing your skirts ensuring that the layers fall perfectly once more. He's delicate and diligent when re-lacing your shirt too, his fingers gracing the apex of your chest and the hollow of your throat as he slowly loops each thin stretch of fabric. 'Thank you.'

Bakugo pulls you in by the waist before stealing your breath with a blinding kiss. It says too much and not enough all at once and leaves you reeling, even after he pulls away. He clears his throat, but doesn't drop his hold on you. 'We should go.'

'One more kiss?'

He grants your request, basking in you one last time before he finally, steps back. Readjusting his sword belt, now tied back around his hips, he rakes a hand through his hair and turns to the door. He pauses, bowing low. 'Ladies first.'

'A pirate and a gentleman.' You muse. There's still a sickness clinging to the lining of your stomach, one you ignore in favour of sharing his smile. In the aftermath, with your anger quenched, it’s harder to forget that you came here with a mission. The folded piece of parchment burns in your pocket, making you want to be sick.

A smirk curls his lip as you pass him. 'We both know I'm not a gentleman, Princess.'

Before you can clear the room, the crack of a harsh palm striking your ass has you squealing like a teenager and bolting. You can hear his boots, their dull falls following you as you scamper down the thin corridor and towards the deck.

He catches you before you can reach the light and pins you against the walls, your arms trapped at either side of your shoulders by the wrist as he presses in close. 'What was that about one more kiss?' He chuckles.

You don't give him an answer, instead, you surge forward and let emotion take over you. Safe in the empty corridor, you find yourself thankful that your seconds had evidently abandoned the lower quarters for the air. The kiss he grants you is fleeting, but deep and has you panting again when he finally releases you.

'I don't think I'd ever tire of that.'

'I don't think I'd ever tire of you.'

'Of me, maybe not, but you'd tire of the sea – of chasing things that only matter to men like me.'

'Women can care for treasure too.'

He smiles, sadly. 'Different treasures, Princess. You came here seeking me, while I seek -.'

'You still want the map.' You answer for him, with that cold slice of ice wedged back into your heart. Part of you think he might argue, that he will toss back up his walls and begin spouting more theatrics about piracy and danger, but he doesn't. He lets you go, reluctantly and smooths down the front of your dress.

'That was the deal.'

Opening your mouth to speak, you think better of it and lock your jaw. Disappoint sinks in your stomach, but you're not given a moment to dwell on it. You could explain the dangers, explain how the guard are planning to take his head regardless of Midoriya’s assistance, of how it was you they had sent to lure him into the trap. How the map in your pocket will surely lead to his demise.

Still, you know there’s no point.

He won’t listen.

He’s a pirate, after all.

Bakugo marches down the corridor, unaware of the turmoil in your chest and beckons you follow before kicking open the door and sliping back onto the deck.

'Ah, it's nice to see you getting along.' Bakugo's grin is from ear to ear as he strolls over to where the seconds have removed themselves.

Uraraka stands up, straightening herself from where she had been laying in Mina's lap.

Kirishima doesn't lift his eyes. 'Well, we couldn't exactly stay down here.' He grumbles. 'What with all the damn fucking noise.' The knuckles on his right hand are bloodied, the wrap he's woven around them already stained and dirty, but if he's in any form of discomfort, he doesn't show it.

Bakugo laughs and claps Kirishima, hard, on the back before whispering something in his seconds ear that makes him perk up, if only slightly. Straightening, he turns to you and holds out a hand, palm facing upwards. 'I believe you owe me a map, Princess.'

You try and hide the disappointment lining your features as you bow your head. Turning to Yaomomo, you incline your head.

The gesture catches her off guard, but sends Momo scrambling through the many pouches attached to her belt. It's in the second that she finds what she's looking for, retrieving an old tattered map from within. She holds it out, eyes questioning.

Taking it from her, you don't pause when dropping it into Bakugo's hand.

He snatches it, grin wide and feral as he spins on the balls of his boot addressing the entirety of his ship. 'We have a new heading, lads!'

The crew that had been lazing about the deck are on their feet in an instant. Fists are thrown into the air, shouts loosed from throats and boots stamped against the wood. It's electric, the air fizzes around them as the entire crew becomes energised at their captains words. In a seconds, men who had been hanging from the rigging, or leaning on stray cannons are called to action.

'Captain...' Uraraka steps forward, unsettled by the sudden movement. ‘That map, it’s the wrong -.’

Bakugo turns to face her, eyebrows furrowing when you step in front of him.

'We should return to the ship.' You silence any further protest with a hand. 'It's obvious we've run the course of our relationship here.'

Hauling in a breath, you force a smile to your lips before signalling for your two ship-mates to flank you. It takes all of your strength to cross the deck to the rail where a short board links your ship with Bakugo's, but you manage every step without looking back over your shoulder to see if Bakugo is following.

Part of you hopes he is, hopes that he's already feeling the same ache in his stomach that you are and following on your heels.

Another part of you knows that he’s not.

Taking hold of the rail, you move to hoist yourself up when a feather light weight touch graces your waist.

'Captain...' Bakugo's eyes linger on yours when you turn to face him. His chest clenches, heart hammering in his chest as his gaze drops to your lips. If he was a better man, he'd kiss you, but he's always been a pirate first. Dragging his eyes back to yours, he offers out his hand. ‘On another tide, Princess.'

You huff a laugh and shake your head, but take his hand regardless. 'Your Captain sends her regards.’

He smiles. The faintest hint of blush is visible on his cheeks, high on the bones.

Beside you, Uraraka has already hauled herself up onto the rail; her face bright red as Mina blows a kiss in her direction. She pauses, teetering there until both you and Yaomomo clamber up beside her.

The first step is the hardest. The board wobbles under your feet, but it still feels more secure than the tatters of whatever could lie between you and Bakugo. Each step takes you away from him, leading you back towards the life you'd built while on his tail; except now, it all feels heavier.

Landing on the deck of your own ship, you turn back just in time to watch Uraraka and Tokoyami push the board into the recess of the ocean, separating the two ships. From over the rail, you can still see him – his proud mess of blonde hair obvious against the dark mahoganies of the ship. If you squint, you can swear you see him raise his hand to his mouth and kiss the skin there; but it wouldn't be the first time your heart had convinced your eyes of seeing things in it's rose-coloured light.

'Where too, Captain?' Tokoyami cocks his head, nudging your elbow with a curled finger.

You wipe a tear from your eye, blinking away the mist. What's done is done, you suppose. It's not as if you hadn't expected this... Signed up for it, even. Still, you rest easier knowing that Bakugo’s heading is set far away from what will happen to you when the guard discover your deceit. 'We're to meet back with the fleet.' You bite the inside of your lip. 'They need to know he took the bait.’

-> Masterlist

#bakugo x reader #bakugo smut #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader smut #mha smut #saturnsorbits #saturnscribbles

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lovelynim · 3 months

Text

Shocking, isn't it?

Genshin Impact - Scaramouche x Tartaglia

A/N: This was greatly inspired by @/ikimaru's post. It's literally living in my head rent free, so I needed to do something about it.

Summary: Tartaglia is nervous and all that tension might ruin such a good moment... So Scaramouche decides to tweak things a little.

Word count: 1204 words

Warnings: Midly suggestive content, nothing explicit tho

Tartaglia's back hit the wall, with so much strength that it forced the air out of his lungs. And before he could recover, the assault went on. It was hard for him to stand on his legs, to keep himself together and not fall apart like a castle of cards.

“What's the issue, newbie? Can't keep up?” Scaramouche scoffed, taking a moment to laugh at his ‘comrade’.

To his and everyone's surprise, this wasn't a fight. However, Tartaglia couldn't help but to think that there was some murderous intent directed to him - but, if anything, those only made it more exciting. “H-hah, you sure aren’t… all talk, balladeer,” he gasped, wiping off a little drop of drool that was pouring from the corner of his lips.

Scaramouche clicked his tongue, amused. Despite their height difference, he was the one cornering Tartaglia against the wall. “Can’t say the same goes for you,” he teased, his hand reaching for the door knob next to them and effortlessly pushing it open. There was no need for words or gestures as they both already knew what to do.

Tartaglia barely stepped inside the bedroom and Scaramouche was already latching himself onto him. The same hand that tightly groped his red shirt pushed him towards the bed, barely giving Tartaglia time to kick off his boots. Damn, this guy really was something else, Tartaglia thought, whining a little into their vicious kissing.

Scaramouche pushed him into the mattress, rubbing the corner of his lips with the back of his hands. “You look scared, did I go too hard on you?” He cooed, irony poisoning his voice while he started to shed his own layers of clothes. “I thought you could ‘take me wherever, whenever’, no?”

Tartaglia chuckled - hoping it would help him hide his uneasiness. He wasn’t so sure of those words anymore. “And I can, balladeer, heh…” That didn’t even convince himself, but oh well.

Scaramouche tilted his head, getting his knee on top of the mattress and slowly approaching the ginger. Tartaglia leaned against the bedpost and watched in silence, at the verge of cracking under the tension and the pressure. Now that it was really happening, could he sustain all of his claims for before? Despite his looks, Scaramouche clearly knew what he was doing and was going to do, while Tartaglia, on the other hand…

Before he could sink any further into these thoughts, Scaramouche straddled one of his legs. Shit, he was so close—

“Eyes on me, newbie,” the other’s voice broke into Tartaglia’s head. He had a playful, yet dominating look on his face. “You might learn a thing or two…” So cocky, Tartaglia thought, but he wasn’t in a position to talk back.

Sighing, as he was forced to follow orders, Tartaglia closed his eyes and leaned in, kissing the balladeer’s lips again. Their lips crashed into each other - without passion, but burning with desire.

Despite not knowing his “coworker” that well, here Tartaglia was. However, as inexperienced as he was, he didn’t know what to do with his hands. Should he hug Scaramouche? Or just keep them away? What if he messed up? Archons, that would be so embarrassing, and what if Scaramouche spread that he was a virgin and—

“...hey,” Scaramouche sighed, breaking their kiss. He looked a little annoyed, but mostly because they stopped kissing. “What are you thinking about? Pay attention, damned newbie…”

Tartaglia’s cheeks flushed in a bright shade of pink. Did he mess up their kissing? He practiced for so long… “I-is something wrong?” Tartaglia dared to ask, his fingers digging into the mattress, tightly holding it.

“You’re too tense,” Scaramouche complained with half closed eyes. Tartaglia wished he could hear the other’s thoughts, it was so hard to read what he was feeling - his face always looked the same, he always seemed so angry. But, this time, he was sure he heard him… laugh. “Let me just…”

Scaramouche quickly reached for Tartaglia’s shirt collar and nearly ripped all the buttons open as he dragged his hand down. The cloth that was being held together quickly fell down Tartaglia’s body, exposing his body to Scaramouche hungry eyes. “Don’t worry,” Scaramouche muttered, gently cupping one of Tartaglia’s cheeks, leaning close to admire his nervous expression. His finger slid down Tartaglia’s jawline, lifting his face by his chin, “it will be fun…”

Tartaglia couldn’t say anything. His throat was closed shut and barely air was making its way through it. He could only watch and shiver, tensing in anticipation as Scaramouche pressed his hand against his chest and slid it down his body. “S-Scaram-”

Crackle.

…huh?

A small purple light came from where Scaramouche’s hand was. Tartaglia widened his eyes as small bolts of electricity surrounded the other man’s finger, crackling as he imbued his hand with electro energy. “W-wait, Scaram- ah!”

All it took was a single finger pressing into his stomach for one of the sparkles to shock him. Scaramouche grinned, letting the electro energy flow into Tartaglia’s body. “What's wrong? It doesn’t hurt, does it? Too much for you?”

“N-nohot reall- ah! But it- a-agh, tihickles..!” Tartaglia whimpered, pressing his eyes shut and clenching his hands into fists. It should hurt, he thought, but it didn’t. All he could feel was an electric pulse flowing, stimulating all his nerves at once.

“Oh, really?” Scaramouche feigned surprised, tilting his head slightly. Pressing his index into the spot just above Tartaglia’s navel, he began to draw little shapes: a circle, a star, a heart… all while sending little bolts of electricity into the skin. “Then laugh, newbie. And relax, yes?”

Tartaglia's body trembled with spasms, jerking his limbs in a weird way. It tickled so bad and it was just a finger, Scaramouche was literally toying with him, mocking, torturing even… but he didn’t dislike those ideas. Again, if anything, those only made it more exciting. “W-wahahait! H-hnngh! P-plehease! It f-feels wehehei- aHAah, c-cohome on!”

Scaramouche only smiled, his finger tracing each muscle of Tartaglia’s abs, moving to his side and then down to his hip. It tickled terribly, terrifically. The ginger curled his toes and giggled his free leg while the other simply trembled under Scaramouche’s weight. That sensation made him want to laugh, to cry, to moan. “S-stahahap, ahAHa, I-I’m seheher- AHAH!!”

Before he could protest any further, Scaramouche added a second finger, pinching a bit of soft skin just below Tartaglia’s ribs, rolling that patch of meat between his digits while showering it with electro energy. “You don’t sound like you want me to stop, newbie,” he whispered softly, watching Tartaglia nearly melt under his gentle-shock-treatment.

“I think you’re into this, huh?” He teased, finally ceasing the electric flow. Tartaglia's body went limp against the bed, his head spinning and his vision blurry.

Tartaglia sighed, taking his trembling hand to his face, moving it through his hair tiredly. “Y-yeah…” He nodded, a shy smile spreading on his face and adorning it along with his flushed cheeks.

Scaramouche laughed, shaking his head for a moment and smirking back at his newbie’s messed up state. “I see,” he then moved his hands, holding both Tartaglia’s hips, “so let’s see how much you can take, newbie.”

Crackle.

#genshin impact #genshin impact tickling #tartaglia #scaramouche #chiscara #lee!tartaglia #ticklish!tartaglia #ler!scaramouche #tickle fic

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underdark-dreams · 1 year

Note

Hey idk if you only write Tav x character but I am STARVED!!! Starved I say! For Karach x Dammon content. It just makes so much sense and as someone who remained platonic with Karlach I still wanted her to get some action and seeing how Dammon was RIGHT! FUCKING! THERE! It makes sense that they could maybe hook up and he’s been invested in helping her too and huuuuuuuUUUUUUUUH.

I know you like writing about them tieflings so if eventually if you are able you could write the two of them going at it like the touch starved babies they both are (Karlach for obvious reasons and Dammon bc he’s probably focused on his work most of the time).

I’m still shook over your Rolan x Tav fanfic you wrote and I can’t wait to see what you write in the future!

Dammon x Karlach [Explicit]

Touchable

"Damn I'm good. And you, you're...very touchable." An infernal blacksmith and a Blood War veteran walk into a bar. Who would have guessed that Dammon is a natural when it comes to handling fire?

Tags: Explicit Sexual Content, Gentle Angst, Sweet/Hot

Word Count: 3,460 [Read on AO3]

“Of course, you’ll need to install it yourself.”

"Of course, of course—can’t touch the giant flaming woman," Karlach grinned at him.

Dammon often noticed that Karlach smiled when things made her sad. He remembered the moment well, remembered each time he'd been given an opportunity to help tune that engine of hers.

Their most recent conversation stuck out with particular pain in his mind.

He'd spent many late nights burning the candles down in his room as he sketched and diagrammed and theorized. No matter how many sheets of parchment he filled, Dammon kept arriving at the same awful conclusion.

Even with his niche skills, he was all out of options for Karlach. She could either return to the sustaining fires of Avernus, or live on this plane however long she could manage before her engine was snuffed out.

Dammon couldn't even calculate whether she had years left or only months. Somehow, that made it so much more terrible.

Karlach took the news with superhuman optimism, the way she approached most things. She thanked him with tears in her eyes for at least giving her back the chance to touch and be touched. For that, her first hug in ten years was his.

Hopefully it wouldn't be the last, Dammon found himself thinking, as her warm body pressed up firmly against him. She wasn't the only one who was long overdue for some physical affection.

Dammon had always thought of her now and then as he worked in his forge. Usually it was idle and passing, wondering whether her infernal parts were giving her any trouble.

But lately, it was hard to shake her from his mind at all. Had she found someone to finally take to bed yet? Surely so, with how many years she'd be confined to unwilling celibacy.

It embarrassed him to admit, but he fervently wished it could've been him. He wasn't much more than a humble smith, and she was practically the city’s hero at this point. How many times had she saved his own life? He'd lost track.

All these thoughts ran through Dammon's mind from where he sat at the bar of the Blushing Mermaid. As he surfaced from his reflection, the din and noise of the place pressed against his ears again.

Not as reputable as the Elfsong, perhaps, but it was closer to his forge. And it was easier to be left to yourself when all the other patrons were already piss-drunk.

"Hey, soldier!"

A friendly hand clapped his back, causing Dammon to nearly choke on his pint as Karlach slid into the seat beside him.

"Sorry," she said with a grimace, but her eyes were sparkling. "Gods, am I glad to see you."

Dammon wiped his mouth in surprise as she swung her very large mug up on the table. "You too, Karlach," he said with a genuine smile. It was like the very strength of his thoughts had conjured her. She looked better than ever.

"I didn't expect to see you here," he admitted. "I thought you'd be out enjoying the new you."

"Fucking someone's brains out, you mean?" Karlach finished for him. Dammon found her bluntness unbelievably attractive.

"To be honest that's why I'm here," she admitted, and rubbed her neck with a hand. "Camp's a bit awkward at the moment. I may have made a pass at Wyll that wasn't, er…enthusiastically received. Think I scared him off a bit," she finished ruefully.

Very much Wyll's loss, Dammon thought to himself. What he wouldn't give.

"Well, you picked the right place for drowning sorrows," he told her aloud. As if on cue, there was a loud chorus of booing as an empty glass went hurtling across the room to land on the low stage, where the half-orc lute player promptly lobbed it back into the crowd with a shattering crash. Dammon raised his arm out in demonstration of his point; Karlach was already cracking up.

"Fucking missed this city," she laughed, wiping a tear of mirth from her eye. They each took a generous drink of ale.

But Karlach wasn't distracted for long. "I just wish, you know?" She sighed. "I wish I could be with someone who understands a little bit. Sex is fabulous on its own, but I want everything, all of it."

"What's stopping you?" Dammon asked her, wondering what it would take for her to see him as a very viable option.

"So many things," she said. "I appreciate what you've done for me Dammon, please believe that I do, but…I still feel more machine than Karlach."

"I'm pretty handy with mechanics, you know." Dammon was flirting with her despite himself. He couldn't help it; she was so radiant and lovely as she sat there close beside him.

Karlach finally glanced over at him, and he saw in her eyes that she'd caught it.

"You must know I like you," she said, her voice low but intense. "Dammon, I like you so much. But you're so lovely, and I'm—" She gestured a hand down her front. "—This. Wild, unstable. What if I end up, I don't know, hurting you somehow?” She looked at him with a pained expression. “A guy like you deserves someone tender, and I'm not sure that's me."

All traces of joking were gone; the air between them had grown serious in a second. Dammon's heart thrummed strong against his ribs, and he reached for her fingers before he could stop himself.

"Maybe forget what you think I deserve, and listen to what I’m saying." He shook his head at her. "Karlach, you talk like you're some kind of monster. So you've got an infernal engine in your chest. And sure, you're tall as hell. But I mean, you've got plenty of—you're not short on any of the—" He was casting around for a gentlemanly way to describe her curves and realizing that it probably didn’t exist.

"Spit it out," Karlach teased him. But her expectant expression made his face grow warm.

"I just wish you wouldn't talk down about yourself like that," Dammon explained. "You're very womanly, and plenty desirable."

"Oh," she said, taken aback. Her free hand fiddled with the handle of her mug. "That's…no one's ever said something like that to me before."

What a damn shame that was. Dammon watched the doubt and confusion work over her features. How long had she thought of herself as nothing more than a tin soldier? He'd fixed what parts of her his hands could tend, but something in the way she saw herself was still broken.

Dammon squeezed her fingers under his. "Karlach, there's so much about you to love. That I love. You are…an incredibly beautiful woman. Don't you know that?"

Karlach stared at him with wide eyes; her face looked somehow younger and softer. For a person so sure of everyone else's worth, she seemed so blind and unsure of her own.

"I am?" She asked, so quietly it broke his heart a little.

Dammon could only think of answering with a kiss. He leaned in with a careful tilt of the head, eyes on her mouth—in the last second he was elated to feel her lean forward to close the distance.

He would've honestly, truly believed that there were sparks between them. There was the fiery warmth of her skin, but Dammon also felt a tingling jolt between their lips that had nothing to do with her heat. His insides sung at the feeling of her lips moving over his with just as much urgency as he felt.

Dammon pulled her face deeper to him with a hand at the back of her neck. As his tongue explored her mouth and sought hers, he felt one of Karlach’s palms rest against his thigh. He could have choked on the desire that rose in his throat at her touch.

They both pulled away at the same instant.

"Your place?" She prompted, breathless.

"Mine," Dammon agreed. It was only a few minutes away, and though his bed was cramped even for one, he expected they wouldn't be sleeping much.

Dammon dumped some coin on the bar in a rush before they made their way outside. The cool breeze through the streets made him realize just how flushed and heated his skin was. His arm sought Karlach's waist beside him as they walked, and a thrill went through him at how lovely it was to finally hold her close. She seemed to feel the same.

"Gods, I can't wait to ride you," she said huskily. Dammon tried to keep a grip on his composure; her brazen eagerness made it very difficult. He settled for pulling her into a quick, heated kiss as they continued on.

The two of them practically stumbled over the dark cobblestones of the entryway in their haze, both buzzing with impatience and expectation. By the time his nervous fingers had finally made work of the lock to his quarters, they were on each other before the door had latched behind them.

Karlach's leg hitched up over his hip as she devoured his mouth. Dammon's hand gripped behind her knee at once, holding their bodies steady against each other, kissing her back with sheer years of pent-up enthusiasm.

"You're strong," Karlach said as she surfaced, sounding pleased and surprised at once.

"'I'd hope so, after throwing around that hammer so long."

"You can throw me around." After a pause she added, "That's an invitation."

"I got that," Dammon grinned, absolutely smitten with her, and captured her lips again.

He guided them both toward the far end of his room and tumbled over her when they reached the mattress. His hands grazed the edge of her shirt, desire muddling his understanding of how to undo the many buckles and straps.

She took more pity on him than he deserved. Almost before he could blink she had freed herself of all her clothing, laying back naked before him on his bed. Pale, dim moonlight from the window illuminated her figure.

She was extraordinary.

Dammon quickly tugged his shirt past his snagging horns, wishing to feel her skin against his as soon as possible. Even before his head was free, he felt Karlach’s fingers helping with his pants, tugging them down past his hips and sliding them off onto the floor.

He hovered over her as they gazed at each other. The promise of bare flesh against flesh was almost overwhelming, now they were here. Dammon leaned down to place a tender kiss on her lips and then descended to explore her neck.

Karlach’s arms clutched him eagerly as he kissed along her soft, warm skin. When he made his way down to her chest, he placed lips tenderly above her breast where the soft ticking of machinery resounded. It may not be a flesh and blood heart, but its rhythm was no less dear to him. She let out a soft, low hum.

Dammon wished he had more patience to linger. But instead he pushed his body down between her thighs, glancing up to check in on her for just a moment. Karlach watched him with a pained expression, lips parted—as if afraid he might not follow through with what his movements suggested.

He wouldn't be teasing her for one second tonight. Dammon leaned down and ran the warm flat of his tongue up over her center.

His head was jerked slightly to the side as she grabbed at one of his horns with a moan. He didn't break from her, only licked at her steadily, smoothing and spreading her wetness up and over her soft folds.

Even after all the work he'd done to cool her, she was still molten hot under his tongue—he thanked every god in the universe for his natural resistance. His lips closed firmly over her clit, sucking the spot as his tongue rolled her side to side in an achingly slow rhythm.

"Holy fuck," she panted from somewhere above him. "Holy fuck, Dammon—"

He curled one arm under and around her thigh, used thumb and index finger to spread her better for his mouth. He released his lips’ suction with an obscenely wet sound, replacing it with the circling pad of his thumb. She was delicious, but he sought to taste her deeper.

Dammon's tongue plunged deep into her cunt, so far that his nose pressed against where his fingers worked against her clit.

Karlach cried out and squirmed violently under his mouth. Dammon's arms held her firm, angling her hips up and open against his searching mouth. His tongue thrust over and over unto her unbelievable heat as he tasted the sweet center of her, felt her satin walls constrict around him with each nudge of his tongue.

By now his own erection pressed painfully into the bed under him. He only shifted a little and continued on. She had so much more time to make up for, and Dammon was determined to be the one to satisfy her.

It wasn't long before Karlach's thighs were trembling against his ears. "Please," she whimpered desperately, nails clutching his hair to hold his face against her, as if begging him not to stop. He wouldn't have dreamed of it. His mouth worked her over with more enthusiasm than ever, swirling and sucking against her hot folds.

When she came around his tongue, the rush of her heat burst against his mouth and gushed out from her core. Dammon thought he might come just from the way her legs clenched desperately to keep his mouth working over her. He lapped up her sweet release faithfully with his tongue, even as his ears took in the far sweeter sounds of her shuddering, gasping moans.

Only once the twitching waves of her climax were receding under his lips did he glance up over her to see her face.

Karlach’s eyes were closed, an expression of transcendent bliss painting her features. As he watched her pant through parted lips, her eyes opened slightly to look down at him where he still hovered between her thighs. He knew the lower half of his face must be dripping with her climax.

With a guttural sound, Karlach’s legs gripped around his middle to pull him just to where her arms could take over and guide him up over her. Dammon gathered himself just in time to land with palms braced on either side of her.

“Wait—” Dammon started, wishing to clean himself up first, but she was already pulling him into a kiss. She licked across his lips, tasting herself on him, before her tongue demanded entry into his mouth. He yielded more than willingly.

His painfully hard cock grazed her thigh as he moved over her. Karlach groaned into his mouth; the vibration of her lips against his sent yet another rush of blood to his throbbing length.

She broke away with a fresh glint of arousal already building behind her eyes. “Inside,” she directed him. “Right fucking now.”

Dammon needed no more encouragement. With fingers grasping under her back, he firmly lifted her body up and over his lap. The way she landed over him pressed her still-dripping heat against the underside of his cock. A trembling groan escaped him at the sensation. Nevertheless, he gathered himself enough to scoot back against the headboard for support.

Before he could fully prepare himself, Karlach’s hand had guided his tip between her folds. In the next motion, she descended down around his whole length at once.

“Fuck,” Dammon gasped. He wished he could find something more eloquent or romantic to describe the feeling, but his mind was wholly overwhelmed by the fiery warmth that gripped all around his cock. He could even feel her walls still fluttering against him from her recent climax. His fingertips dug into the flesh of her hips.

They crossed glances as she sat still to take him for a moment. Karlach’s eyes shone with desire and excitement, and something almost like love. One of Dammon’s hands slid up along her spine, dipping her neck down, capturing her lips in a tender kiss. He felt his mouth shaking slightly against hers.

“Every time alone, I imagined this,” Karlach breathed against him as they parted.

Dammon thought he might unravel completely at her words. He leaned back against the hard wood behind him, eyes taking in every beautiful inch of her flesh, inviting her to do whatever she wanted with him.

She accepted the offer wordlessly. As her fingers clasped behind his neck, Karlach rocked her hips up and down over his length. He felt his jaw go slack at the feel of her heat surrounding him, taking him, over and over and over—

Dammon’s grip dug into her hips to add more force with each of her rhythmic thrusts down onto him. He gazed up at her with pure adoration as she took him. The feel of her warm skin against his lit a fire in his chest; his cock throbbed against the hot, squeezing silk of her walls.

“You’re so beautiful,” Dammon gasped before he could think. It was the truth, and she deserved to be told it—she deserved everything. He held her tight on his lap as took him, chasing her next release. Karlach’s hips faltered for a moment, and he realized she was already close.

Dammon felt her thighs trembling against him and pushed his back up straight to hold her closer as she rode his length. His palms pressed against her back, strong forearms circling and supporting her as she started to come apart yet again.

And she did—with a shuddering quake, Karlach grabbed his shoulders and let out a jumbled cry that was some mix of obscenities and his name.

She was incredible. Dammon watched the agony and ecstasy on her face as long as he could bear, as she rode out her second orgasm onto him, as her tight heat gripped and pulsed relentlessly around his cock. In the next moment his eyes squeezed shut as he was thrown wide to the delayed force of his own release, his hands spasming against her back as stars burst bright behind his eyelids.

After a long moment filled with nothing but the sounds of them keening and panting against each other, her chin dropped over his shoulder. Dammon felt her arms circle to grip around him tight.

As he listened to her breathing slow, she began to shake against him again.

This time it was from the quiet sobs that heaved up from her chest. He held her head against the crook of his shoulder and stroked her hair as her tears flowed, feeling the droplets splash against and roll down his back.

Karlach cried from joy, blessed relief, aching sadness…from the pain of so much lost time and the knowledge of her limited future. It wasn't fair, none of it, and Dammon didn't know a single thing to say that might ease her burdened heart.

Engine or no, she had more heart than anyone he'd ever known. He could only hold her to him tight as could be.

Seeking to comfort her further, Dammon worked his hips down the bed with her seated on him and tipped their connected bodies gently backwards. She collapsed without resistance on top of and against him. At least he could support her for a while, even if it was just with his silent body.

After a little while, Karlach raised her head to look at him. Her face was streaked with tear tracks, but she was trying to smile through trembling lips. "I'm s-sorry," she choked out.

Dammon’s heart couldn’t bear it. He silenced her at once with a kiss. "Don't apologize to me," he whispered to her as he broke away, "or to anyone, ever."

He gathered her back up in his arms immediately. Karlach didn’t protest, only rested her cheek against his chest with a shuddering sigh. Dammon was vaguely aware of the sheen of sweat cooling all over his bare skin, but with her warm body nestled back up against him, he was more than comfortable.

Dammon pressed his lips to the skin of her forehead. He closed his eyes to focus on the way his heart beat against her chest; the steady hum of her body reverberated against him in response. Despite everything, the sound was dearer to him than he thought possible.

“Ready to go again?” Karlach asked suddenly.

Dammon chuckled low in his chest, feeling the delayed ache in his limbs and realizing a bit late that the night’s exertions had only just begun.

“Give me a few minutes,” he requested with a lazy smile. “We’ve got time.”

#i love them i love them i love them #pls someone tell me their ship name #karlach x dammon #dammon x karlach #kardammon #bg3 karlach #bg3 dammon #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 #infernal metal #heartforge

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fanficwriterlover · 1 year

Text

Undercover

18+ Readers Only

Chapter 3: Too Close for Comfort

Summary: You sustained and injury, but luckily alive and breathing. Ghost and you seem to be mutually getting closer yet like all missions, they get messy and well things seem to only escalate more.

Expectations:Blood, gore, torture, beating, punching, cutting,cursing, stitches, kissing, and more...

Pet-Names: Little Goddess and Aphrodite

══════ ⋆Undercover MasterList⋆ ══════

═════════ ⋆Chapter 4⋆ ═════════

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In a building that the team would be using, it was a large almost abandoned place, perfect to torture the man, discuss plans, and where the medic was stationed. Ghost immediately dropped you off there, the doctor inspecting your wound with Ghost looming nearby. The doctor had a personal tent with tons of equipment and lighting to handle anything. The doctor named Dr. Windsor, you knew him well from past experiences, he began with removing the wrap Ghost had done inspecting the wound but smiling gently reassuringly. "Didn't cut you deep luckily, I don't see any puncture. You'll be alright, definitely need stitches though." He started grabbing his string and needle to prepare as he started making you stand still with your head straight. You were looking at Ghost and he was back at you. The whole process was slightly painful, but you bit your tongue through it.

When the doctor finally finished he put a large bandage on it. "You're all done. Now give it about a week and it'll be gone, but-" this made Ghost say in a dark voice "But what ?" The doctor spun in his chair almost seeming to forget Ghost was standing there the whole time. "God damn, Lieutenant, about gave me cardiac arrest" he sighs out, earning a painful giggle as you went to reach for where it hurt at your neck. "As I was going to say, y/n, because of how deep that cut was, it will leave a mark-" you studied Dr.Windsor for a moment nodding your head slowly as he continued "However, I do have ointment that can make it go away-" you responded so fast you didn't realize how abrupt you were "No" Dr. Windsor simply looked at you as you covered your abruptness "No, thank you, it's fine. Thanks again Doc, I owe you that drink one day" You get off the table you were sitting on walking by Ghost as he watched you do so. The doctor than spoke to him.

Ghost looked at the doctor as he spoke "You know, I'm not a specialist when it comes to emotional feelings, but I can see how you look at her." Ghost eyes stared at the man as he continued "She is brave and beautiful, known her personally in the past." He glances in the Lieutenant's direction "She's already been through enough, don't hurt her more if you're not going to commit to those feelings." He frowned a bit at this statement wondering what he could mean by them, What exactly have you been through ? Ghost silently went out of the tent. You were making your way to the humvee they came from, he almost forgot you were wearing revealing clothes. He couldn't help but blush, it seemed so natural for you to wear something like this and not care who would see. You opened the backseat door then glance back at him "Will the team be coming back soon ?" He grunts avoiding making eye contact with you, opening the driver's door "Yeah, I'll take you back to the hotel if you want so you can rest." Tilting your head as you grab your coat putting it on before peeping around the door to look up at him "Lieutenant, won't you be needed to interrogate?" Ghost simply looks down at you, was the first time you used his rank to address him in such a different tone.

He considered his words "You're more important. I don't need you seeing this shit." You close the door of your backseat door leaning against the vehicle "Don't think I can stomach it ?" He looks away from your gaze, it was hard to say these words "I don't want you to see the other part of me." You raise a brow confused by this, he almost sounded as if he was two different people. You stayed silent for a moment. Then spoke softly "When your done, will you come back to the room ?" His eyes move back to you, you were grabbing your arm and squeezing it tightly, obviously from tonight you were scared. "Yeah, I'll come back Aphrodite" This nickname made you smile as you laugh softly, you were blushing as you pushed your wig hair back, the blood stained it still "I'll hold you to that Ghost" going around to the passenger side.

You allowed him to take you back to the hotel, escorting you briskly through the lobby, his large arms around you. Still playing the part as husband and wife. Getting into the elevator, he insisted still to take you personally to the door so he knew you were safe. The ride up was quiet until the dinging of the elevator door open. Stepping down the hallway making to your door, unlocking it and opening it to the bedroom that you were both staying in. Ghost was standing behind you as you walked in, then turned around to look at him, he was looking back down at you.

Ghost doesn't know how long the two of you were standing looking at each other but the next thing he knew he was embracing you tightly, your head burying into his chest. His arms easily wrapped around your whole body frame, you were delicate in his arms. Eventually you slightly pulled away, looking at where his lips were almost tempted to lift his mask, he took the hint. He lifted the mask up enough over the bridge of his nose revealing his thin pink lips, they had a cut on one side, and scars adorning his cheeks, jaw and neck. You got on your toes leaning up to meet his lips as he held you close kissing you back deeply.

His kiss was everything you imagined, it was addictive, slightly rough, needing, and passionate. The sensation of his touch and the way his lips encouraged yours to move was tasteful bliss. The kiss lasted for a long time, but eventually when you both pulled away you were left panting. Your eyes were hazy from the passion, he lowered himself enough tilting your head up slightly, holding the back of your neck gently, where he planted a gentle kiss over your bandage. This made you shiver. How can a man his size, be murderous, rough, intimidating, yet be so gentle to the touch. However, like everything, it had to come to an end. He looked down at you pressing his head on yours "I'll be back Lil Goddess" you laugh softly still panting, the nickname made you feel warm inside especially when it came from him. "I'll be waiting Lieutenant" Ghost furrowed his brows looking at your face pressed close to his, that's when he said it "Simon"

Taken back, you look up at him eyes wide processing what he said "W-What ?" You blinked your eyes at him for a moment as he chuckles from your surprised look "You can call me Simon when we are alone" His name...his real name. When Johnny and you talked he had told you that only Price knew what he looked like and he had suspicions Laswell did too. But he only ever showed to people he truly trusted and even THAT was hard to earn. Smiling at the thought made you feel special. "Simon..." You say his name almost testing it on your tongue, which he smiles at, his smile, you've never seen something so beautiful. One last kiss he eventually pulled away so he could get back to the team. He lowers his mask, nodding his head at you, as you closed the door in front of him slowly.

Once the door was closed and he heard the locks click, he started making his way down the stairs of the hotel. Already making his way back to the vehicle, getting in, his mind was thinking about kissing you. How he wished he could have stayed longer with you and held you. The sensation of your lips were lingering on his mind "Fuck..." he grumbled, now he was starting to catch feelings. This was what he was trying to avoid. He knew his line of work would interfere with his judgement let alone his ability to focus. The fact you got hurt under his watch was a reminder how much he should never have gotten closer to you. He didn't even realize he had arrived at the building the team was, he subconsciously drove himself here. Ghost was really on edge now, giving this man a good beating and torture was what he needed to let off steam. Everyone was gathered around the man Gusev who was bound to the chair only having a few bruises, nothing even comparable what Ghost was going to make him feel. Gusev seemed to haved noticed Ghost's arrival as Ghost made his way over, his teams eyes also looking at him. Soap spoke first "How's the little goddess doing ? " he asks in his Scottish accent Ghost seems to be eyeing the man bound to the chair as he answered "She's fine. Back at the hotel." Soap stepped to the side as Ghost approached the man who was laughing "Ah, come to torture me more ? You'll never get anything out of me. Hear that little whore got a lovely cut, too bad I wasn't able to make a clean cut of that pretty head-" before he could even taunt more, Ghost had been walking around the man until grabbing his hand and breaking it, the man screamed in agony, luckily they were in a locked room, it wouldn't be heard. Most of the team took their leave, even Price, when they all had left, it was just the man and Ghost. Ghost was circling him like a shark as he spoke "I'm not like them..." The man looked at him with wide eyes as Ghost began removing his gear. Ghost now was only his jacket, jeans and boots. He was removing his jacket though showing himself in just his shirt top, scars across his arms. The man seemed to be more shaken up, "The fuck do you want ?" he was getting scared Ghost concluded Haven't even fuckin started and already he gonna piss himself. Ghost removed his gloves exposing his bare hands, veins showing and cuts on them as well "You're going to tell me everything you know" His eyes glanced up at the bounded man cocking his head "Should any of your words sound so much as a lie, I'm going to break a piece of you, but you won't die..." he chuckles lowly using his deep voice "Nah, you see, you're gonna fucking suffer until I get everything you fuckin know, don't give a fuck whether its private or your dirty secrets." Ghost grabbed the man at the shirt "And I'm going to break you every fuckin way immaginable. No fuckin doctor going to be able to identify your shitty body." this obviously made the man pale, but it made him talking. An hour. Ghost brutally beat the man, even when he spouted every kind of information, he was using the man like a punching bag. Angered simply for everything that happened. Once he let out all his anger on the man, he was close to dead already. Ghost stopped his brutal pursuit walking out of the room with blood splattered over his arms, hands, shirt, mask, pants, and shoes. Everyone grimaced at the sight, even Price couldn't look at the brutally beaten man but he spoke up "Get anything out of him" Ghost simply walked over to the pipe line turning on the water rinsing off the blood from his hands and arms. He spoke "Yeah, he told me everything, we need to get a hold of Laswell." his tone was enough to make Price tell it was something serious so he began getting a hold of her while Ghost cleaned himself off not caring about the blood staining his clothes. No matter how much he scrubbed though under the water, he still couldn't get the words out of the man's last words before he beated him to a pulp...."We got a list....and that little Goddess on the top"

Thanks for Reading!

This one is much shorter...but I have so much planned for the next chapter. Stay tuned !

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buildarocketboys · 5 months

Note

53 + peterick lmao

Haha this one was so perfect for them! Fluffy early band ficlet, Pete takes Patrick out on a 4am ice cream date!

53. “Who crawls through someone’s window at 4am to go for ice cream?!”

It's 4am, and Patrick is wide awake.

Not that this is such an unusual occurrence for Patrick. His preferred sleeping schedule lingers somewhere between 3 or 4am and 12 or 1pm. But as a high school student, that's not really sustainable so he's usually at least trying to sleep by this time.

Right now he can't, though. He's thinking about the conversation (argument) he and Pete had earlier. Replaying it over and over in his mind.

Ugh, but Pete just makes him so angry sometimes. They were rehearsing a few of their songs in preparation to record them at Joe's next week.

And then Pete had wanted to change a lyric.

And another.

They weren't sensible changes, either. Half the time, Pete seems to want to replace one word with forty. It's ridiculous.

And he's so smug about it too! As if he thinks-knows-that his lyrics are so much better than Patrick's.

The worst part is, Patrick can't help thinking he's right. Patrick knows he's no poet, or wordsmith. His lyrics are juvenile at best. He's all too aware of this, as Pete well knows.

Pete's words are beautiful, poetic, the metaphors winding and flowing through his writing like a river to the sea.

But at least Patrick's lyrics fit the rhythm of the damn song!

After one too many of these changes, Patrick had lost his temper.

He'd yelled, "If you know so much better than me, maybe you should write the fucking lyrics!"

Pete had gone quiet at that. He hadn't talked for the rest of the rehearsal, which they all mutually decided to cut short. Which doesn't bode well for the recording. They all need the practice.

Patrick knows he went too far, but also - he can't see how he's wrong. Pete needs to put up or shut up when it comes to the lyrics - he could at least work with Patrick when it comes to making the lyrics fit. But the man has no sense of rhythm, at least not on purpose. He doesn't seem to see an issue with adding another twenty words to a verse.

He just gives Patrick an infuriating little smile and tells Patrick that he knows Patrick will make it work.

Pete seems to think Patrick is some kind of musical genius. Which is flattering, he guesses. Except he's really not.

Patrick's perseveration is interrupted by a tapping at the window. He jumps, then twists around, pulling the curtain back to reveal Pete's face at the window.

He groans.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he hisses once he's opened the window.

Pete pouts at him. "Now that's not a very nice way to greet your best friend, is it?"

Patrick grits his teeth. "It's four in the morning!"

Pete shrugs. "So? You're awake, aren't you?" When Patrick continues to glare at him he says, "Also, be quiet - don't wanna wake your mom up."

Patrick rolls his eyes, arms crossed tightly over his chest (only partly to hide his Batman pajamas), then sighs. Relenting, he scrambles back so Pete can climb into his room proper.

"Shut the window," he says, "It's freezing." January in Chicago is no joke.

Pete does so, a grin playing round his lips. It fades when Patrick says, "What are you doing awake at 4am anyway?"

Pete presses his lips together. Instead of answering, he says, "I could ask the same of you."

Patrick stares back at him, stony-faced. He asked first.

Pete sighs, pushing his hair back. "Couldn't stop thinking about earlier," he admits.

Patrick lets out a sigh of relief. "Yeah, me too."

Pete looks up at him, eyes sparkling hopefully. "Thought I could make it up to you."

"Make it up...to me?" Patrick asks. He'd figured Pete was mad at him. Too late he registers Pete's raised eyebrows, and scrambles to correct himself. "How?" he asks, crossing his arms again.

Pete grins, so effortlessly charming that Patrick kind of hates him for it. Patrick could never be so laid back in a million years.

For some reason, Pete likes him anyway. God knows why.

Sometime after they became best friends, Patrick resolved to stop questioning it. Sometimes it's best not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"I'm taking you out for ice cream," Pete announces.

For a moment, Patrick's not sure he's heard correctly. "Ice cream?" he splutters. "Pete. It's 4am in midwinter in Chicago. We are not going out for ice cream."

"Why not?" says Pete. "You once said that if you could choose one food to eat for the rest of your life, it'd be ice cream."

"Well, yeah, but..." Pete remembers that? How many of the stupid things Patrick says on a daily basis has Pete retained? It doesn't bear thinking about. "Who crawls through someone’s window at 4am to go for ice cream?!"

Pete waggles his eyebrows. "C'mon, Patrick. You know you want to."

Patrick's stomach flip flops in excitement. Pete is always doing shit like this, getting Patrick to step out of his comfort zone, while always, always being there to hold his hand. He pretends to be annoyed, but really he loves it.

"What if my mom finds out?"

Pete shakes his head. "She won't. Just sneak out the window with me. We'll be back before she wakes up."

Patrick moves to the window and looks out dubiously. He's seen Pete do it before - shimmy down the drainpipe and onto the garage roof, before jumping down.

But Pete's athletic. If Patrick tried that, he'd probably break an ankle. Or worse.

"I think I'll go out the front door," Patrick says. He's pretty sure he can make it without his mom waking up. He's an expert at ninja-ing down the stairs in the middle of the night.

Pete shrugs. "It's your funeral." He heads for the window, obviously planning to return the way he came. "Wait, you do want to come, right?"

"Yeah!" Patrick exclaims - a little too loud and enthusiastic. He cringes, and they both listen for any sound of his mom stirring in the next room. "Yeah," he says. "I just need to put, like, ten layers on."

Pete's got a shit-eating grin on his face now. "Alright. See you on the other side, sport." He punches Patrick's shoulder and has disappeared out the window before Patrick can object to the childish nickname.

Patrick sighs and then starts pulling on clothes at random, grateful for his floordrobe for once, as it means he doesn't have to open his squeaky closet door. He darts down the stairs, ninja-style, and stands at the front door for a full minute, pricking his ears for any sounds from his mom's room. When none come, he slips on his shoes and unlocks the door, closing it softly behind him before half-jogging to Pete's car.

Pete smirks as he slips in. "Impressive," he says.

"Oh shut up." He rubs his hands together as Pete starts the car, waiting for the heaters to warm up. "Where do they serve ice cream at 4am in Chicago in January anyway?" he asks. "It's, like, 20 degrees."

Pete grins as he pulls out of Patrick's driveway and guns the engine. "I know a place."

The place turns out to be a diner on the edge of the city.

When they enter, there's nobody else in the place. No customers, no waitresses, not even anyone behind the counter.

The lights are on but nobody's home, thinks Patrick, then giggles.

Pete glances at him. "What's so funny?"

Patrick shakes his head. "Is this place actually open?" he asks.

Pete nods. "Sure it is. The lights were on, the door was open, right? They're probably just out back, having a smoke. Hey!" Pete calls loudly. No answer. He sighs in frustration. "Just wanted to get my boy some ice cream," he mutters under his breath.

Patrick feels his stomach lurch. Something about Pete calling him his boy does things to him. It's kinda like Pete calling him his boyfriend.

Kinda, but not really, he tells himself firmly, as Pete dings the little old-fashioned bell next to the register.

They hear footsteps coming their way. "Finally!" Pete says, as if they've been there for hours. Patrick rolls his eyes fondly. "Why don't you go pick out which flavors you want?" He nods toward the glass box under which a smorgasbord of ice creams are displayed.

"Woah," Patrick says. He scans the flavors, trying to pick his favorite, wishing he hadn't forgotten his glasses. A waitress arrives behind the counter to serve Pete.

"Hey there, darling, sorry about that. You been waitin' long?" she says to Pete, batting her eyelashes, and suddenly the ice cream is the last thing on Patrick's mind. He watches her flirt with Pete, nails digging into his palms, thinking that is the fakest accent he's ever heard in his life.

Pete seems to fall for it though, much to Patrick's disgust. He grins up at her and says, "Not long, no," in this breathy little voice he uses whenever he flirts with girls. Patrick feels sick, for absolutely no reason whatsoever.

"What can I get ya?" she asks.

"I'll have a coffee," Pete says. "And for my friend here..." he trails off, obviously waiting for Patrick to give his order.

Patrick realizes he's been staring at them, open-mouthed.

He slams his mouth shut as the waitress says, flatly, "Oh. Hey there."

"Pete, I...I don't have any money," he admits. He'd been so focused on getting out of the house undetected, and so excited about sneaking around with Pete in the middle of the night, that it hadn't even occurred to him to bring his wallet.

Pete reaches out and grabs his arm, pulling him close so he can wrap his arm round Patrick's waist. "That's OK, honey. My treat."

The waitress purses her lips. Patrick feels a zing of delight in the vicinity of his stomach, even as he can feel his cheeks burning.

"Uh, are you not having anything?" he asks Pete.

Pete shakes his head. "Just coffee. I'm not hungry."

"I'll just have some vanilla then," says Patrick.

"Aw, no, c'mon Patrick," Pete says, eyes crinkling in disappointment. "I'm taking you out on an ice cream date, you've gotta have at least two flavors."

The waitress looks at him dubiously - 17, chubby, wearing about 15 layers of clothes. Privately, Patrick agrees with her - why would Pete want to take him on a date, of all people? Even a friend date, which he's sure is what Pete means. But he raises his chin and looks her in the eye.

"Um, OK," he says after a moment, when the waitress has looked away. "I'll have, uh..." he glances at the flavors again, and chooses pretty much at random, "Bubblegum and rocky road."

"Good choice,' says the waitress, smiling a little.

"And put those in a cone!" Pete says as she goes to scoop the ice cream. He nudges Patrick. "It's not ice cream if it's not in a cone, right?"

"Do you remember everything I've ever said to you, or just the ice cream-related things?" Patrick teases.

Pete looks at him, deadly serious. "Patrick Stump, I remember every word you've ever said to me."

Patrick rolls his eyes, but he can't help but smile. He takes the ice cream cone the waitress offers him and they go sit in a booth in the corner.

Then he remembers their argument this afternoon. "Even the bad stuff?" he asks, swallowing nervously.

Pete's eyes soften. "Yeah, not that there's much. But I don't hold it against you." He sips his coffee. Patrick's pretty sure he's just being kind - they argue a lot, and Patrick's not always the most objective or logical when his temper gets the better of him. "Besides, you're usually right, anyway."

Patrick snorts. "Am not," he says, because that's definitely not true, and he doesn't need Pete to mollycoddle him.

Pete flashes him a grin. "Yeah y'are. Like this afternoon-"

Patrick sighs. "Can we not talk about that?" He realizes his ice cream has started to drip down the cone and onto his hand, and launches a rescue mission with his tongue. Pete is silent for long moments and Patrick thinks he's dropped it, but when he looks up again he catches Pete watching him.

Pete clears his throat. "You were right," he says. He sounds kinda weird. "I was being annoying, making all those lyric changes."

Patrick sits back in his seat, satisfied that they're finally in agreement. "Yeah, you were."

"But was I wrong? I mean, didn't my changes make the songs better?"

Patrick snorts. "If changing one word to forty makes a song better, sure." Now that he's cooled down, though, he actually thinks about it. "Your words are better than mine," he admits quietly. "They're more poetic, or whatever."

Actually, Pete's words are kind of really fucking beautiful, but he'd never tell Pete that. It's one of the things that annoys him the most when Pete asks to change the lyrics. Not only are they almost always better than Patrick's lyrics, they also make Patrick feel things. Things he's not sure he wants to feel.

"Exactly!" says Pete, then cringes when Patrick scowls at him. "That's not...that's not what I meant," he says quickly. "I love your songs, Patrick. You know that."

Patrick does. Sometimes he thinks Pete's the only one who likes them.

"But you're a musician. I...I get the feeling you don't really care about the words."

Pete picks his words carefully, but Patrick can't help feeling a little offended. Patrick does care. Sure, he cares about all the other stuff - the melody and the rhythm and the harmonies - way more, but it's not like he's not trying! He tries really hard with the lyrics, they just never come out any good!

"It's not that I don't care-" he starts, then sighs.

"But you see what I'm saying?" Pete asks, pressing his advantage.

"Yeah. I guess." Patrick pays attention to his ice cream for a while before he speaks again. "What's the point of this, Pete? I mean, what can we do different?"

Pete's face lights up with a grin. This is clearly the point he's been wanting to get to the whole time. "I write the lyrics. You write the music."

Patrick considers this for a while, his tongue worming its way into the bright blue ice cream. He doesn't miss the way Pete is staring at him, but for now he just lets it happen. Pete isn't like other people - he likes being under his gaze.

"How would that work through?" he says. "If I write the music, we'll still run into the same problem, trying to fit your lyrics to it." In fact, it'll probably be worse, Patrick thinks.

Pete shrugs. "It's just an idea," he says. "I don't know, maybe I could write the words and you could fit the music around them?"

Patrick screws his face up. Nobody does it like that. That's just not how songwriting works.

But.

Sometimes when he looks at Pete's lyrics, he hears the beginning of a melody. Usually he pushes it back, annoyed at the distraction when he's trying to fit them to the tune he's already got.

But what if he let that impulse run free? What would happen then?

"We could try it," Patrick says tentatively.

Pete's face is split with a grin. "Yeah?"

Patrick shrugs. "Yeah. I'm not saying it'll work, mind you. Nobody writes songs like that for a reason."

Pete lets out a breath. "I know. But we're not like everybody else." He claps his hands together, satisfied, breaking the tension between him and Patrick. "We'll do the recording like we were always gonna, with your lyrics. I'll try not to mess with them too much."

Patrick raises an eyebrow.

"But after that, we try this, yeah? It's an experiment. And if it doesn't work, we can go back to you writing the songs."

Patrick nods. "OK," he says, and attacks the rest of his ice cream with gusto, while Pete sips his coffee and watches him openly.

Pete drives him back at 5:30am. His mom gets up at 6. He should be fine.

Patrick's quiet on the drive back. Just thinking.

"You OK?" Pete asks as he pulls up on Patrick's driveway.

Patrick nods, offering him a small smile. "Just thinking," he tells Pete.

Pete nods encouragingly, and Patrick adds, "Do you actually have words to give me? You know, if that's what we're gonna do?"

Pete nods. "Oh yeah." He leans over Patrick and opens the glovebox, pulling out a hardcover notebook. Patrick's seen him writing in it before. "Here you go." He hands it to Patrick.

Patrick takes it reverently in his hands. "Pete... isn't this basically your diary?"

Pete nods, not looking at him. "Technically it's a journal. But yeah." He breathes shallowly. "But I trust you."

The gravity of that trust is not lost on Patrick.

Pete turns around finally to find Patrick staring at him.

"What?" he says, but his cheeks are ruddy. "You're my best friend."

Patrick blinks, his eyelashes fluttering. "Yeah..." he breathes.

Pete leans forward and brushes his thumb over the corner of Patrick's mouth. Patrick's heart stutters in his chest.

Pete's eyes flicker to Patrick's lips, and for a moment, Pete thinks he's going to close the distance between them.

Then he leans back, breathing hard.

"Might want to wash your face when you get in. Your mouth is blue."

Patrick chokes out a laugh. "Yeah. Will do." He opens the passenger door.

"See you tomorrow?" says Pete hopefully, and Patrick smiles.

"Yeah," he says, squeezing Pete's hand. "Tomorrow."

#qorktrees #asks #ask meme #peterick #patrick stump #pete wentz #fob #my writing

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saryasy · 1 year

Text

Time is a curious thing, more so when you were present at its pitch meeting, and ended up voting no because creating an infinite universe just to put an end date to it was the most idiotic thing you’d heard (and you were there when Sandalphon pitched turning people to salt and won.)

But that has always been a human issue, to the occult, the years are never in short supply. The company is, however.

They'd have forever, is what Crowley always told himself when the nights were particularly lonely. The same sun rising from the same east, casting the same hues and shadows over the same earth, and Crowley's fingers itched to reach for the only body that understood, only for him to curl them back, trapping them under his head, lest they move out of their own accord.

Time, they had lots of it.

****

At first their meetings were sparse, few and so painfully far in between. Some were accidents, true or orchestrated, some were a saving hand, others were purely work related. Yet, they couldn't stay far for long, like two planets orbiting each other, their magnetic fields clashing them together, the impact sending them farther than ever. The cycle repeating itself over and over, until they learned with time, decades, centuries (who kept count when they had eternity?) how to slide into the other’s path without causing an explosion, how to speak without words, and when to say no when every fiber of their being screamed yes.

Their meetings grew closer, and with them the distance separating them.

But there was always a weight hanging over their heads, so heavy it almost felt like a third presence standing between them, sucking all the air out of all the rooms they’d ever been in, till it left nothing but stale, cold air, shaking with fear or freezing, who could tell. The weight of a thousand I can’t and I won’t and What if they found out, and a thousand other unspoken promises and unadmitted fears.

So, they made sure to never get too close, to not feed the giant following them wherever they went, like some fucked-up shadow. They made sure to always have a justifiable reason to be around (not that Aziraphale made that difficult,) to know when to pull away, and stay away, no matter how long it took.

They couldn't risk getting found out and having that eternity violently snatched away from them. He might act like it, but Crowley knows he’s not invincible. One wrong move and he, or worse, Aziraphale, could be wiped out from existence, and Crowley would be damned if he let his everburning desire be their undoing. He got used to the heat, anyway, it could sustain him far longer.

So, he counted the days that stretched into years, and bid his time.

Time, they had lots of it.

****

Four years. They stepped away from the magnifying glass for a mere four years, before getting thrown right back in it with the arrival of the amnesiac Supreme Archangel. Four years in the face of six thousands, they didn't even see each other for one of them.

But it was fine, they were going to deal with it, then step away once again, and enjoy their solitude together.

As for this thing between them, growing larger and harder to ignore, well, they had forever to figure it out.

****

Back in his apartment for the first time in years, and sitting in his uncomfortable chair, terrible wine in hand (he blames the wine, not the lack of too familiar company,) Crowley considers for the first time in his entire existence an eternity spent alone.

He closes his eyes, he'll think about it later. Now, however, he is in for a long, long nap.

Time, he has lots of it, after all.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #good omens fic #ineffable husbands fic #aziracrow #my writing #well there we are!!!#my first gomens fic!

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a-killer-obsession · 1 month

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🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

A search for a rumored Vegapunk weapon leads the Kid Pirates to an unexpected new crewmate, with a bloodlust that rivals their own and an incredible power.

CW: Please check AO3 for all current warnings, but general warning for smut, slow burn, serious gore, and really dark themes. AFAB reader, she/her pronouns.

Masterlist || AO3 || Chapter 1

Chapter 46 - Plans and Disguises

Unsure of what to do now that you're in Wano, you make a deal to get some help.

Word Count: ~3.5k

“Give me a hand, will you?” Law coughed, a dribble of blood running from the corner of his mouth, “they got me with a fucking seastone nail.”

“What makes you think I'm gonna help you?” You scowled, “I ain't your friend.”

“Because I know who you are, Shockwave Yin,” Law smirked, “and I know why you're in Wano. Help me out, and I can help you out.”

“You can heal yourself once I get the nail out?” You questioned. You knew a little of his devil fruit abilities, Killer made sure you were well educated on all of the Worst Generation and Emperors. Only a fool would sail the Grandline without some knowledge on the biggest players in the game.

“Yes, just fuckin’ get it out,” he grumbled, pulling the sleeve of his kimono out of the way, revealing the tattoos on his arm and the entry wound. “You don't know this place. You and your baby won't survive here unless I tell you what I know.”

You grumbled but knew you weren't in the position to refuse any information you could get. He was right, you knew shit all about this land, you didn't even know how big it was or what direction to go in to find your friends. You pulled your dagger from your thigh holster, giving him one last look of confirmation. He nodded, and you dug the blade into his skin, making the opening large enough to get your thin fingers inside; since it was seastone, you couldn't use your powers to dislodge the nail. You pushed two digits into the wound as Law groaned and grinded his teeth, fishing around for the seastone nail, a little rougher than you needed to be just out of principle. You knew you'd found it when you felt your abilities shut down, your visor now giving your vision a purple tint instead of its usual invisible filter. You pulled the nail from his wound, throwing it into the grass nearby.

Immediately, Law summoned a Room and removed the bacteria from his wound, closing it with a sigh before dismissing the blue aura. You cleaned off your knife against his already dirty clothing, much to his annoyance, reshealthing the blade and wiping your hands clean on some damp grass. You stood before him impatiently, waiting for him to hold up his side of the deal.

“Alright, alright,” Law rolled his eyes, using the tree to stand back upright, a little unstable on his feet. “I'll give you the import info. Kaido's weapon factories have poisoned this land, the water and food here, even the animals, aren't safe to consume. The only safe food comes from his farms. If you want to survive here, you need to either steal from his farms directly, or from the Flower Capital where he ships the safe food to the rich.”

“God fucking damn it,” you growled, annoyed at the extra work. You were no better off than you had been on the alliance island. How were you going to keep up with stealing enough food to sustain your milk, care for your baby, and find your crew? Law saw the way you grit your teeth in frustration, and saw an opportunity he could take advantage of.

“Your devil fruit is quite strong, yeah?” He asked. You squinted at him suspiciously, choosing not to dignify him with an answer. He rolled his eyes at your hostility. “Look, I'm guessing the baby is throwing a spanner in the works for you. Kaido took your crew, yeah? My crew have heard rumours about it, but since it doesn't concern me I haven't looked into where they're being held. I'll make you a deal though. We keep baby supplies on the ship for distributing on poorer islands, so make a deal with me. My crew will babysit, while you go look for your crew. In exchange, you lend us your power in the battle against Kaido.”

“Why should I trust you?” You growled, holding Dawn close protectively.

“Because we have a mutual enemy,” he said plainly, leaning on his long sword for support, weak from bloodloss and use of his power, “and because right now, I know you don't have any other options.”

You made an annoyed grumble, but conceded that you didn't have a better option right now. The Straw Hats trusted him, they'd already fought together several times, he seemed reliable to them at least. You trusted the Straw Hats, they'd helped you without question, and had been more than accommodating, so maybe you could extend that trust to Law, given their alliance. It was a difficult ask though, given your current experience with pirate alliances. You looked down at a sleeping Dawn nestled against your chest, not a care in the world. You couldn't keep doing this on your own, you needed to find her dads and the rest of your crew. You owed it to Kid at least, after everything he'd done for you.

“Fine, you have a deal,” you finally agreed, not seeing any better path. Law held out his hand and you made an exasperated sigh at the shit eating grin he gave you as you shook it. You felt like you'd just made a deal with the devil, but what choice did you have?

The bushes behind you rustles, and you quickly turned on your heel and drew your weapon as you sensed several people rushing at you at once. You stilled your heart and your hand though when matching branded kimono appeared through the trees. You let out a heavy breath as you resheathed your sword, you were getting really fucking sick of people jumping out of bushes today.

“Captainnnnn!” A large polar bear mink shouted in a surprisingly high pitch as he ran at Law. He scooped the tall man up like he weighed nothing, Law clearly used to this sort of treatment as the mink hugged him like a ragdoll. “You're okay!”

“Bepo, put me down,” Law complained. The bear quickly dropped him, bowing his head and apologising repeatedly. “What's your report?”

“The ruins are entirely destroyed,” a man with ginger hair sticking out from under a whale-shaped hat spoke, “but no lives were lost, thanks to Shinobu and Chopper. The group is retreating back to location B.”

“Good,” Law replied, “and Straw Hat-ya?”

“Captured,” the one with a cap with a small stuffed bird on top spoke, “unconscious, but alive we think. Looked like they were taking him to Udon.”

“Dammit,” Law growled, “five fucking minutes he's been here and he's already starting shit. Now Kaido knows our crews are here,” Law tsked. You were thankful to hear that Luffy didn't drown, but he wasn't your Monkey, and this wasn't your circus. The others looked at you questioningly, Law waving his hand nonchalantly at you as he answered their wordless questions. “This is Yin-ya, from the Kid Pirates. She'll be coming with us. Let's get moving, the Beast Pirates know I'm around now and it won't be long before they come looking to see where I went.”

“Aye aye captain!” The three subordinates spoke, giving a salute before Bepo took Law's sword for him to carry it, and the other two offered Law a shoulder each to help him walk.

You followed the four of them back through the forest to a small town, where the buildings looked run down and abandoned. There were hardly any people on the street, seemingly most of the residents had deserted the decrepit town, or perhaps died. Those left didn't look far from the grave either, hunched over in doorways, begging bowls in their hands and clothes that were practically rags at this point to cover their bodies. The town stunk of death, the air thick with it. You saw many ghosts along the way, all looking just as depressed as the living, and you had no doubt Kaido was responsible for this town's misery. ‘Location B’ turned out to be a run down looking hall that looked like it used to be used for performances. The largest building in the town by far, though the west side was entirely collapsed, and you worried about the structural integrity of the rest of the building. It had plenty of space for several small crews though, with a large foyer, a decent performance hall, and several offshoot rooms that would have been dressing rooms and the like when the building was still in use.

On the way Law explained more about Wano to you, and a little of the plans to take down Kaido. Wano was an enslaved land, with the poor being forced to work in weapon factories while Kaido built an army of artificial devil fruit users. The production of the fruit had been stopped by Law and the Straw Hats, but Kaido already had a large force, made up of strange human-animal hybrids with none of the shifting abilities of a usual zoan fruit user. The fruit had a high failure rate though, such was the risk of duplicating something as wildly difficult to replicate as devil fruits, but Kaido had accepted the risks when he shipped in crate after crate of the marred fruits. Those who the fruit successfully worked for were known as Gifters, while those who the fruit had failed for were known as Pleasures, named as such because the fruit left them with the inability to show any emotion other than joy, only ever able to laugh and smile for the rest of their life, no matter how angry or sad or scared they were. The permanent smile was also how the fake fruits received their name, known as SMILEs.

Kaido's crew, the Beast Pirates, controlled the entire island, and many residents were either dying in the factories, or starving from lack of safe food. Kaido was in league with the shogun, essentially the king of Wano, after the previous shogun had been murdered twenty years ago during a conspiracy Kaido had aided. Unbeknownst to Kaido, the son of the murdered shogun, as well as several of his retainers, had been sent to the future (or rather, the present) and the plan now was to defeat Kaido and the false shogun, and retake control with the old shogun's son back in his rightful place of power. Both the On-Air and Hawkins Pirates had joined forces with Kaido, and now patrolled alongside the Beast Pirates. Law and Luffy were part of what was know as the Ninja-Pirate-Mink-Samurai alliance, who were currently working on recruiting allies and gaining information on Kaido in the build up to a raid, planned to take place in two weeks during a local festival.

The island also had a unique climate, being a large enough landmass to split up into multiple seasonal weather patterns. Currently, you were in the summer section of the island, while the Flower Capital, where most of the Straw Hats were currently under cover, was located in the Spring area. The entire country had been cut off from the outside world for hundreds of years, with its own den-den system, newspapers, fashion, currency and culture. Hence the kimono Law's crew were wearing, and why Law's crew and the rest of the Straw Hats had been unable to contact Luffy. You could see as you entered the hall that the Straw Hats you'd travelled with also sported kimono now, ready to head off to their own undercover assignments.

Dawn had started to wake up as you arrived, and you pulled her out of the carrier so she could stretch out better and look around. She squealed excitedly as she noticed Hakugan, and Law raised a curious brow at the baby's reaction. You sighed as you struggled to contain the excited baby, “I think it's the mask,” you explained, “I think she's mistaking him for her dad.”

“Massacre Soldier is her father?” Law asked. It seemed obvious to him now, seeing the blonde hair.

“Ah, one of them,” you replied awkwardly, “it's complicated.”

“You… don't know who her father is?” He asked. He sounded a little judgmental and you tried not to take offence.

“I have two lovers, but neither is her birth father,” you replied with a scowl, expecting a pirate to be a little more open with things like sexuality, “neither am I her birth mother. She's adopted.”

“O-oh,” Law replied, “but… you're breastfeeding?”

“I lost a baby,” you sighed. Law quickly regretted this whole line of questioning, it was clear by your expression that he'd hit a sore spot. He made a mental note to himself to explain Dawn's parentage to his crew, so that nobody would ask you the same questions.

“Sorry,” he quickly said, promptly looking to change the subject after that, “Hakugan, come here.”

The masked man came jogging over, much to Dawn's delight as she reached for him. “You're on babysitting duty,” Law told him, “have someone retrieve supplies from the ship, you're going to be looking after Yin-ya's baby while she looks for her crew.”

“What?!” Hakugan groaned, “Why me?!”

“Because she's taken a liking to you,” Law said plainly, but there was a hint of amusement to his tone, “have someone help you if you must, but you're responsible for this baby while Yin-ya is busy, that's an order. We have a deal with her.”

“Fine,” Hakugan grumbled, holding his hands out for Dawn who all but jumped into his arms. You handed him the duffle bag of what supplies you had, and gave him the rundown of what she likes and needs. It wasn't a proper goodbye yet, but Law needed your attention to get you set-up so you could begin searching for your crew as soon as possible. The Straw Hats gathered here were already on their way out, along with several Heart Pirates, to find their assigned undercover posts or return to the city for more scouting, and you waved them all goodbye.

You followed Law up to what would have been the stage before this hall was abandoned, where he introduced you to the future shogun, Momonosuke, as well as his retainers. He was just a kid, you couldn't fathom how they were going to make this kid a leader, but it didn't matter to you as long as you got your crew back. One of the retainers, Kin'emon, put a leaf on your head, and with a puff of pink smoke your outfit was changed. They assured you your jacket and mask were fine, just disguised temporarily. You now wore a yellow kimono, with a gradient that shifted the base to pink at the bottom, decorated with white and periwinkle flowers. Around your waist was a sash decorated in white and teal vertical stripes, a periwinkle peek of fabric at its top edge and a pink ribbon around the centre. Under the kimono was a matching periwinkle layer, which peeked out at the neckline, and your sleeves had been conveniently tied out of the way by white threads, in a similar style to one of the retainers, Kiku. Your mask was now disguised as a headdress, the visor now a sheer purple fabric, the earpieces now large yellow chrysanthemums, a thick white braid running over your head to connect them all. By fiddling with the petals you were able to adjust the mask, the sheer fabric changing colour with the setting, and you were impressed with the way the devil fruit power adapted to the changes.

Carrying weapons was forbidden in Wano unless you were one of Kaido's subordinates, so you stashed your katana with Law's crew, keeping your hidden knife under your dress. You didn't really need your katana anyway, you just liked to have it with you in case of seastone bullets. The retainers also gave you the cover name Mienai and a backstory as a florist in the Flower Capital, in case anyone asked questions. Did you know anything about being a florist? Not a fucking lick, but you didn't plan on getting close enough to any of the locals to need your cover story. The name was useful though, Kaido's people were no doubt keeping an eye out for you, the one rogue member of Kid's crew and a valuable potential asset. If anyone got wind of a ‘Yin' in Wano, you would have a lot more travel getting around, even with your invisibility. You weren't immune to good observation haki, and if Kaido caught wind you were here, you had no doubt he would have people with good haki guarding your crew as a trap for you.

Your plan was to sneak into the capital to begin searching for holding cells, or to try and catch some whispers of where your crew might be. Being able to make yourself invisible would no doubt be your most useful ability in Wano, and now that Dawn was taken care of you would be able to travel quickly and unhindered. Though your new shoes were taking some getting used to. Gone were your usual practical boots, replaced by sandal like shoes called geta, with black lacquered bases and pink straps, worn over white socks that had a separation to account for the shoe straps. They were awkwardly heavy, with a curve at the front that meant your toes were basically hovering over nothing, and you ate shit at least five times before you got the hang of them, or at least got the hang of using your devil fruit to manipulate the air and right yourself.

You took one last chance to breastfeed Dawn for the evening, not knowing when you would be back to the base, memorising the shape of her face and the way her soft hair fluffed up at the top of her head and the way her tiny little hands reached for things. You hated having to leave her behind, but you had to remind yourself that she was too small to remember this when she's older, but she would certainly remember being raised without her dads if you didn't find them. You didn't want that for her, you wanted her to have all the love in the world, to always be surrounded by it. And you wanted that protection for her, so she would never suffer like you had.

You ate dinner with the Law's crew - he'd been stealing food from Kaido's farms, where the crops and animals weren't poisoned by his factories. Law had already informed you that the food in the capital would be safe, so you had no need to pack significant rations, you could steal what you needed once you were there. You packed enough food to tide you over though until you got there, repurposing your duffle bag which until now mostly only held things for Dawn. Law had offered you medication to dry up your milk supply to make your mission easier, but you refused it. It felt like a betrayal to Dawn's birth mother to just give up on your milk like that, when her mother had struggled so much to keep it going. She'd had no choice when her supply dried up, but you did, and hell would freeze over before you gave up on it, especially not for a little thing like convenience. Instead, you packed your hand crank manual pump. You would have no way to preserve the milk and would have to dump it, but keeping up the draining of your breasts regularly would stop your body from thinking you no longer had a baby to feed, until your mission was complete and you could go back to how things should be. You still planned to return to this base whenever possible anyway, to see Dawn and feed her yourself whenever the opportunity arose. You also packed a hand drawn map provided by the retainers, a few bottles of safe water, and one of the local den-den, which was conical in shape. You could use it to contact Law if anything happened, but you hoped you wouldn't need to use it.

The retainers told you what they could about the capital, to help you blend in once you got there. Once the sun went down you set out to begin your journey. The capital was located in the centre of the island, and you would have to pass through an area called Kibi to get there. There was a town you could stop in on the way called Okobore, where you intended to hide during the day until you could move at night again. It was safer that way, since some of the Gifters had the ability to fly, they would spot a random woman travelling through essential desert from a mile away, and you couldn't just stay invisible the whole time. By traveling at night you had the vision advantage, and would see enemies long before they saw you, allowing you to cloak yourself. Once you made it to the capital you would blend in, but until then your clothes were far to nice for those on the outskirts, you'd stick right out.

With a deep breath you took one last look at Dawn, sleeping soundly in Bepo's arms (he had taken quite a liking to her), and took the first determined step towards finding your family.

[NEXT CHAPTER]

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