#need to marinate on it for a bit to collect my thoughts

[regularhill]

i want to make a post abt why i like james and harry as a pairing in spite of it all bcs it's really a matter of like "No Wait Please If You Give Me A Moment Of Your Time I Would Gladly Explain To You My Thoughts And It’s Not Just Because They’re Two Guys I Promise You I Don't Ever Want To Solely Operate On Yaoi Brain Please It’s Way More Complicated Than You Think PLEASE."

[lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom]

hii I was wondering if u could write something where daeho and reader are already in a relationship and they find eachother after the first round and maybe they are upset with eachother for going into the games.

anc if it could have a bit of fluff that would be nice!!

tyy🫶🫶🫶

At Least We Have Eachother

KANG DAE-HO X READER

Summary- Dae-ho and you both join the squid games for the benefit of the other. Neither of you know about it, until you find each other after the first game.

Warnings- Squid Games, mentions of blood, murder, and death

A/N- Thank you guys for the overwhelming support with my Daeho fic. I am so motivated right now, it's not even funny. He is such a sweet baby, MY SHAYLAAAA

Word Count- 1,192

Your debt was not something you were proud of. To be honest, it crept up on you. It started with medical bills, then Daeho ran into some Ex-Marines, who dragged him into a bad gamble.

From there it kind of went down hill. Struggling to pay bills, borrowing more money, making the wrong people mad. In other words, the two of you were in an extremely bad position.

When a strange man with a suitcase approached you on your way home, you were hesitant. In any other situation you might have ignored him and walked away. But, you had just had another invoice from a debt collecting company. Not to mention the loan shark that came up and threatened Daeho two days prior. The eviction notice was also putting a hole on your kitchen table.

The idea of following the funny-looking card, winning a bunch of money, clearing your (and Daeho) debts. It was too good to be true, you knew that deep down. At the end of the day, you were at rock bottom. Desperate people do desperate things.

So, while slipping Daeho a simple lie about spending the night with a friend... You took off to the discrete location alone. Where you were picked up by a van. You don't remember much after that.

The regret sunk in deep when you realized what you had gotten yourself into. When you awoke seeing hundreds of people around you, all in the same position, you were noticeably scared. You barely left the bed you woke in. Only to stand with the crowd to listen to the guards and sign the needed contract. It seemed too late to back out now...

The first game was lonely, intimidating, and revealing. The only reason you weren't lying head face in the sand dead, was your fear. It struck you stone-cold still on 'red light'. The ring of your ears pressured you to move forward on 'Green light.' Due to the deadly shots to other players. It pushed you to move so you didn't suffer the same fate.

You were much too nervous to talk to anyone, you saw little point in making friends at first. That was until the realization of any team games.

After the first game was officially over and you had returned to the common room, you'd taken a moment to think. To think how it would be if you were able to walk home now. How it probably wouldn't even matter if you had died, so many people were out for your head anyways. It was all looking dark, but Daeho was your light. He was always so positive, he kept you happy. You owed it to him to keep fighting.

To keep fighting for that adorable, handsome, sweet face. That same face that was currently staring you down....

"Daeho?" You questioned, just in case your mind was playing a trick on you.

"What are you doing here!" He ran over, pulling you further behind the layered beds. His grip was tight on your arm, once the two of you stopped, he seemed to notice. At that he quickly loosened his squeeze.

"W-why are you here! I-I thought you were sleeping over at-" You cut him off, your guilty conscience taking over.

"Daeho, what are you doing here?" You rebutted, frantically pushing your hair back. He knew you were nervous.

"To settle some of our debt, but that doesn't even matter anymore. People are dying, you can't be here!" He stressed over you. He did a few takes over your form, making sure you were not hurt in any way. You thought he was finished until he slowly brought his hand up. He stuck his thumb out and seared a few drops of blood off of your cheek. You hadn't noticed them before...

An argument against him was impossible to think of, but you managed. "Well I can say the same about you! You could get killed also. Where would that leave me!" He threw his head back, pressing both hands over his face. He dragged them down, an annoyed expression on his face.

"Ohhh, this can not be happening.. I-it doesn't matter, because you're here, where you were not supposed to be!" He started to fidget with his fingers, a sign he was distressed.

"Dae...I'm also here because... I got fired yesterday..." You looked down, picking at your nails. His head snapped to look at yours. "What?"

"They were... overstaffed and, apparently a younger employee could do the same amount of work for minimum wage... So, they just got rid of me..." He looked sympathetic, but still mad.

"You should have told me. We would have figured it out. You didn't have to lie."

You thought for a second, "Its not like I wanted to lie! I was trying to help us!"

"How reckless!" He said. It was almost comical!

A laugh pushed its way out, "Oh my gosh, don't act like you aren't here too!" You started to raise your voice, frustrated.

He took a single step back, hands on his hips. "You're supposed to be the smart one! I'm fun, loving, a burst of fricken light!" He said, his words contradicting his tone, not joyfully at all.

"Whatever! What matters now is that we were stuck in a death trap! The money is not even our first problem. We might not even be alive before the day is over! Or worse, you'll be dead and I'll be left to suffer!"

He gave another sigh, stepping forward and embracing you. It was exactly what both of you needed. His arms wrapped impossibly tight around you. You could only reciprocate the squeeze. His head fell on top of yours, he nestled in.

"I don't want to argue, I just want you safe... We will be fine." He said, keeping you in his grasp.

"I know, but I just wanted to help... The man seemed so promising, that we could have a normal life again." You wanted to let your tears flow, but you couldn't risk looking weak. You had to remind yourself that there were still a couple hundred other players in the large room.

He shook his head on top of yours, "I would live in a tent as long as I was with you.... I can manage anywhere, as long as you are by my side..."

You pulled back to look at him. Your arms still wrapping around each other. "I just, I know you're not happy... I wanted to clear everything up, one day own our own house. One that we can never get evicted from." He pushed a stray hair behind your ear.

"Oh Dae, I don't care about that. I just want you." You shoved your head into his chest.

"I love you.."

"I love you too."

"What the hell are we going to do here." You questioned, peaking up from his chest slightly.

"Were going to stick together. We're going to get out of this alive." He pulled back and down to press a firm and reassuring kiss on your lips. Maybe things would be so bad after all.

Oh, how naive you both were...

A/N- Honestly, I like my first Daeho fic better. But that's probably because I am a SUCKER for emotional hurt/comfort. Anyways, I hope y'all enjoyed this one. Pls lmk how I can improve!!!

[rollinouttahere-writes]

One of the mind-only fics I’ve had rolling around in my head is kinda similar to the Strays AU, but whatever, might as well.

Reader is Akainu’s kid and by some series of misadventures ends up being collected by Whitebeard. Kinda shifts between whether the Reader is a marine like their dad wants them to be, or if they ran away because they don’t like their dad. I typically imagine them as an older teenager, but I guess it doesn’t matter.

Maybe a bit much on detail, but if they ran away, Akainu reports them as missing, either because he won’t publicly admit that his child ran away, or he’s delusional and doesn’t realize how much they hate him, so marines are actively searching for them and when they show up with Whitebeard people think that the pirates kidnapped them, (which may or may not be true, not like the old man wouldn’t).

Breaking Point

Next

Whitebeard Pirates x Teen GN Reader

4.6k words

Summary: An espionage mission gives you the perfect cover to get away from your Admiral father and the life he forced you into. Everything seems to be going according to plan until some pirates corner you.

Warnings: unhealthy parent-child relationship, akainu being akainu, reader being in a terrible mental state, hopelessness, suicide attempt, blood, drugging

I did tweak the prompt a little bit, so I hope you don't mind. I also hope you aren't opposed to darker themes. If it bothers you, I'll write an alternate version of the scene where the reader snaps.

Clothes? Check. First aid kit? Check. Matches and firestarter? Check. Food and water? Check. Hygiene supplies? Check. Emergency shelter? Check. Money? Check.

Looks like you’re all set. After settling your hat into your head and pulling the bill down over your eyes as you always do, you steel your resolve for what is to come.

With your backpack slung over your shoulder, you march out of the barracks so you can begin your mission. At least, that’s what everyone thinks you’re doing. You’ll let them keep believing that.

A sharp call of your name brings you to a halt, and you instinctively stand at attention. The empty halls allow for the sound of his footsteps to echo all around you. It’s debatable which is louder. The Admiral’s footsteps, or your own heartbeat. 

Akainu comes to a stop in front of you, glowering down at your form. His piercing eyes scrutinize your appearance. Instead of your usual uniform, you’re in civilian clothing for the mission. Spying in a Marine’s uniform would obviously not go well.

“At ease.” You robotically relax your posture at his command. “I trust that you don’t need any further briefing on your mission?”

“No, sir.” Despite the man in front of you being your biological father, this is the only way you referred to him. Both in and out of work. “I understand the assignment in full.”

“As you should. I expect you to come back with results.”

“I will, sir.”

The Admiral stares at you a moment longer, then nods sharply, “You are dismissed.”

“Yes, sir.” With that, you take your leave, stepping down the halls of the base to leave. Just as you’re about to pass the threshold, you hear your name spoken again.

Akainu’s expression is as terse as ever as he stares a hole into you. He then sighs and turns away, “Don’t disappoint me.”

Of course those are his last words to you. Resentment twists inside you like a knife. Fuck this. You can’t wait to never have to see this bastard’s face again. You don’t respond to him, and you know that he doesn’t expect you to.

You hurry out of the base, eager to leave. The swinging doors are thrown open unceremoniously in your rush to put as much distance between you and Akainu as possible.

"Oh? Were you planning on leaving without saying bye to me? I'm hurt." Slowly drawled out words greet your ears, bringing you to a halt and making you whip around.

"Uncle!" A rare smile sneaks across your face, "I thought you were still away on a mission."

"I was. I got back a little bit ago. Just in time, too" Kizaru pushes his lanky body away from the wall he was leaning against and meanders over to you. His hand reaches out and flicks your hat off before gently rustling your hair. If anyone else did this, you would break their arm for the audacity, but you make an exception for him.

If he could indulge you by allowing you to refer to him as Uncle after what was initially just a little slip up thanks to hearing Sentomaru say it so many times, then you could tolerate the mussing of your hair. Just tolerate. You totally weren't enjoying the attention or anything like that.

"So, what is this mission of yours? I heard that you were going to be spying on Red Haired Shanks, but that can't be right."

You shake your head, "That is right. They wanted to send someone that he would be less likely to recognize if he spots."

Kizaru withdraws his hand and sighs in a drawn out fashion, "You don't sound very concerned. You do know that's an Emperor, yes?"

"I know that," you grumble and roll your eyes at his lack of faith in you. "I'm going to be careful. I promise you, he'll never even see me." If only he knew just how true that was going to be. Shanks would never see you. Nor would his crew. Or anyone in his general area, for that matter.

The Admiral stares at you, and you squirm ever so slightly under his gaze. There was no way for him to know what you were up to, but that didn't stop the irrational fear from taking root regardless.

Finally, mercifully, he breaks eye contact and looks away with another beleaguered sigh. "I hope you're right." Kizaru ducks down to pluck your fallen hat off the ground. He dusts it off and drops it onto your head. It's noticeably crooked. You figure that he did it on purpose. "Will you promise your uncle something?"

"Of course." The response is almost instinctual.

"Come back if it starts to get risky. That mission isn't worth losing your life over."

His concern for your safety creates a conflicting storm of warmth and guilt within you. Returning to the Marines was out of the question, but you obviously couldn't say as much. Instead, you do what any rational soon-to-be traitor would do under your circumstances. Lie.

"I'll leave as soon as it gets dangerous, I promise." It's a half truth. Yeah, you'll never be anywhere near Shanks, but you will be leaving danger in a sense.

"Alright." Kizaru pats your head, "Take care of yourself, (Y/N)."

"I will. Goodbye, Uncle." You turn your back to him and fix your hat. "Tell Sentomaru I said bye."

A hum of acknowledgement is all you get in response from Kizaru. There's a 50/50 chance that it'll slip his mind until much later, but what can you do? That's just how he is. You'll miss him and Sentomaru when you're gone.

But that's neither here nor there. You need to leave before Akainu notices that you're still here and lollygagging. You stride toward the docks where a privateer vessel is waiting for you. It was a small, inboard paddlewheeler with an enclosed helm that doubled as a sleeping quarters. A nice ship. Shame you’re going to have to ditch it soon.

“(Y/N)!” There was a call of your name yet again. The imposing figure of one of the men under your command is looming over your ship. He's too big to be getting on it, so he's left standing on the dock near it and tossing some boxes of provisions to someone on the boat. He turns to you with a broad smile across his scarred face. "We've got 'er ready for you!"

A wisp of a smile graces your typically stern features, “Thanks, Sven. I appreciate it.”

The person that had been in the helm squeezes out of the door and joins you two on the dock. Nesca may be on the short side for a fishman, but she's still a couple heads taller than you. The modified dorsal fin sprouting from her head that anglerfish were named after bounces and sways as she makes the jump.

She flashes you a smile filled with needle like teeth and winks, "I snuck some extra snacks in for you with the rest of that stuff."

"Nesca, they're going to notice that when they take inventory later."

"So what? What are they going to do? Fire me for making sure you don't starve while on your mission?" As expected, she was entirely unbothered by the threat of disciplinary action. She was the type to go with the flow of things regardless of where exactly that flow took her. She couldn't care less if it gets her in trouble.

Sven lets out a bellowing laugh, "Besides, we both did it, so they're going to have a hard time pinning down who did it!"

"Might not be that hard if you keep yelling it." You roll your eyes and have to make a considerable effort to suppress the smile threatening to show itself again.

"Well, whatever. Nothing that they will do will be as much of a blow to our egos as being held back from joining you on this mission." Sven crosses his muscular arms and scowls at the base in the distance, "They're letting a kid go and stake out an Emperor, but they won't let us, actual adults, tag along to make sure you have support if things get hairy. If that isn't a kick in the teeth, I don't know what is."

"Yeah," Nesca chimes in, "we've been through so much together, but now is when they separate us? Talk about ridiculous."

These two have been under your command since you became a lieutenant. For every achievement and failure you've had in your career, they've been right behind you. Of course, there have been many more people in your units over the years, but these two were among the three that had been consistent through every promotion. The third... he wasn't here anymore.

"They probably don't want to risk Red Haired Shanks becoming suspicious from seeing a trio following him around." That, and neither of these people could exactly be considered conspicuous. Sven was damn near ten feet tall, and Nesca was a fishman. They would absolutely call attention to you if you three were to go on this mission together.

Nesca was less than impressed with the explanation. "I guess that makes some sense, but I still don't get why they're okay with sending you off like some sacrificial lamb. Can your dad seriously not be bothered to give enough of a shit to at least try and pull some strings to get you backup?"

Hearing Akainu getting referred to in such a cozy term of endearment makes you want to reprimand Nesca, but you refrain. You know that she doesn't mean anything by it. Despite her concerns, Akainu's inaction has worked in your favor. Having anyone with you would have been a massive hindrance to your plan.

Another hindrance would be Akainu coming over here if he notices you're still here and not diligently heading toward your destination. You shoulder past your comrades and leap onto the boat, “I’m not a sacrifice. The rank of Commodore wasn’t handed to me, I earned it. I’ve been trained for this for as long as I can remember.”

"I know, I know." Nesca waves her hand dismissively, "We're just looking out for you. You better be careful out there."

Sven easily unties the rope anchoring your boat to the dock and tosses it to you. “Good luck, (Y/N)! I can’t wait to hear about everything when you’re back!”

"I will! You two stay out of trouble while I'm gone!" While you do hope that they'll behave for their sake, that first part was a lie. You won’t be back. Never. You’d rather die than ever set foot on a Marine base again.

—

Several weeks have passed since your departure and covert runaway. At this point, they still believe you to be on assignment, and if everything continues as planned, it should be several months before your absence becomes known. Due to the high risk nature of spying on an Emperor, there would be zero communications until you got back. Sengoku wasn’t willing to risk you being found out if the Red Haired Pirates had a black transponder snail on them. Not only would it jeopardize your safety seeing as that you were alone and didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell against an Emperor’s crew, but the discovery would likely make them much harder to tail going forward since they would now know to be wary of this tactic.

Of course, you were nowhere near where that crew had been sighted lurking about. Your end goal was to get out of the Grand Line entirely and start life anew on some remote island where no one would ever think to look for you. Ideally, you would be assumed dead. Killed in action while stalking a predator you had no hopes against. 

If anyone knew you were still alive and just deserted the marines… Well, you’ve seen what Akainu does to people like that, and you aren’t naive enough to think that you’ll get special treatment purely because you’re his child. If anything, that would incentivize him more to make an example out of you. To prove that he would never go easy on anyone.

All in the name of his precious Absolute Justice. 

Currently, your biggest hurdle was the calm belt. Even if you hadn’t ditched- and burned- your original vessel, it would have done little to help you cross it. Sure, the absence of wind and ocean currents wouldn’t have slowed it down, but its wooden structure never would have stood a chance against the dense population of sea kings lurking in the depths of that part of the sea.

What you needed was something sturdy and fast. A high powered engine in a preferably metal boat that could take a few hits if need be. On top of that, you needed some weapons to assist you in fending off the beasts. As powerful as you were, even you could only do so much against the likes of such a creature.

Despite all of the risks, you feel relatively confident in your plan. All that you need to do is make it at least halfway through. After that, you think you’ll be able to fly the rest of the way out or at least island hop to the North Blue. Of course, you being a zoan devil fruit user came with risks, but hopefully the fear of drowning if your wings grow too tired will motivate you to persevere through exhaustion.

As long as you can pull this off, and do so without calling attention to yourself, you’ll finally have the freedom you’ve yearned after for so long. It’s so close that you can taste it.

“Commodore (Y/N)! Fancy seeing you here.”

W h a t ?

Once hot blood runs cold as ice through your veins. Who the fuck said that? You slowly turn your head to look over your shoulder to see who just recognized you. This could ruin everything. You can’t risk a sighting. You’ll have to kill whoever saw you.

“Whoa! If looks could kill, I don’t think I’d survive that one!” The man laughs and jumps down from the rooftop he’d been perched upon. Oh, fuck. That’s Fire Fist Ace. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-

Another person drops down in front of you, prompting you to whip your head back around only to see Marco the Phoenix blocking the other exit to this alleyway. Oh, this couldn’t get any worse! What’s next?! Is fucking Whitebeard himself going to appear, too?!

More Whitebeard Pirates filter into the alley, but Ace and Marco appear to be the only Division Commanders here. Your hands clench into fists at your sides, “What the fuck do you want from me?”

Marco holds up his hands in a placating manner, though it’s anything but. “Nothing much,” he steps closer, “I promise that none of us want to hurt you, but we’re in a bit of a bind.”

“And? How’s that my problem?”

“We need to pick up some medicine for our pops, but the only island that has enough of it right now has a Marine base on it. This medicine is really important, we can’t risk it getting destroyed in an attack, so that’s where you come in. In order to guarantee its safety, we’ll let them know that we have an Admiral’s kid in our custody, and that you won’t be released unless we get what we need.” Marco smirks, “Now are you going to make this easy or difficult? Because I can promise you, you’re coming with us whether you like it or not.”

No. No, no, no, no, no, no! This isn’t happening! This can’t be fucking happening! You were so close, and now everything is going to be ruined because of some fucking pirates! Your hands are shaking- no, your whole body is! Your heart is pounding, adrenaline is spiking, your nerves are on fire. No. You aren’t about to give up and let them take you and ruin your life.

“No… you can’t do this to me.” You shake your head and meet Marco’s lax eyes, “I won’t let you!”

In a split second, your arms transform into wings, and you shoot yourself up into the air. Your legs turn next, shifting into clawed talons that you use to send an attack at Fire Fist and the people clustered around him. Everyone but him dives out of the way as the strike slashes through the cobblestones and walls. Ace tanks the hit directly, but all it does is go right through the logia devil fruit user.

“Not bad, but you’re going to need to do better than that to actually hurt me!” Ace erupts into a column of flames and directs it right at you. Just what you wanted. You flap your wings hard, blasting the fire right back at him- but more importantly- the people around him. They all scream as their clothes catch to fire, making Ace immediately panic and focus on them rather than you.

Not wanting to waste a single precious second, you take off, cutting through the air with remarkable speed. That much is to be expected of someone with the Tori Tori no Mi Model: Peregrine Falcon. As one of the fastest animals on the planet, your speed was generally unmatched. Kizaru was the only person that could ever really challenge you in terms of speed. Escaping these pirates should be a breeze.

“You’re pretty good! I wouldn’t expect anything less from an Admiral’s kid!” The voice of Marco comes from above.

You look up just in time to dodge him swooping down to try and grab you. Fuck, he’s fast! It’s time to engage in some real evasive maneuvers. You rip off your backpack and chuck it at him, then shift into your full beast form.

With your body shrunk down to the size of the bird your devil fruit is modeled after, taking the backpack with you would be impossible. You’ll have to come back for it later, or maybe not at all depending on how poorly this goes. 

In your true form, you’re able to take full advantage of the speed the peregrine falcon is known for. Buildings all meld into a blur as you rocket through and around them. A family shrieks as you speed through one open window and out the other, then you’re weaving through lines upon lines of laundry, and next you’re in an open market.

As quickly as you shot off, you stop and slip under a table, the cloth on it easily concealing your presence. Your heart is pounding and you’re panting hard as you wait in silence. The tablecloth doesn’t get ripped off by your pursuer or anyone else, so you’re cautiously optimistic that you succeeded in losing him. Now you just had to figure out how to get out of here without being spotted again. All of those pirates saw what you look like in all of your forms, which was going to be a major problem. The second you leave this sanctuary, you’re going to be at risk.

There isn’t a clear, easy option. You’re just going to have to take a gamble and hope that your beast form will be unassuming enough to not catch their eyes again. You peek under the tablecloth to see if any of the Whitebeard Pirates are lurking nearby. It doesn’t look like any of them are here.

Okay, here goes nothing. You fly out from your hiding spot and high into the air at what should look like a normal speed for a bird. Flying as fast as you can would just draw attention to you. So long as you look like a normal bird at a glance, you should be able to get away unnoticed.

“There you are.”

Before you can even blink, a taloned foot closes around your small form. You squawk in surprise, then immediately shift into a half-bird form to try and break Marco’s hold. Something cold snaps around your wrist, and all of your energy is sapped away in an instant, right along with your powers.

Sea stone cuffs. They came prepared. You fall through the air, but only briefly before Marco catches you. He lands hard on a rooftop, but remains upright and doesn’t drop you. He grins, but his eyes have an odd gleam to them that you don’t recognize, “You’re good. I didn’t think they still made Marines like you anymore.” Why is he complimenting you? Freak.

You start to struggle in his hold, but he’s faster than you and locks the other cuff around your free hand. Now you’re completely at their mercy. This is awful. This is a worst case scenario.

“Now then, let’s get you back to the ship.”

—

The journey from the small seaside town to the Whitebeards’ ship was lost on you. You weren’t processing any of it. As soon as reality sank in, you went completely numb. Every word said by the pirates bounced right off you.

They were going to know. You’re nowhere near where Shanks and his crew are. They’re going to know you deserted. He’s going to know you deserted. It’s over. Your life is over. These pirates signed your death certificate as soon as they locked those cuffs on you.

Distantly, you glance at your surroundings. You’re chained to a cot in what looks to be the ship’s infirmary, if all the nurses milling about are anything to go off of. Only one of your hands is cuffed, the other is free again. They aren’t concerned about a devil fruit user being dangerous while sea stone cuffs are eating away at their strength. What a disaster. Years of training, and this is how it ends. How humiliating.

And to make it worse: your hat is gone, leaving your face bare for all to see. Now that you're thinking about it, you probably lost it during the initial chase. You were so consumed with getting away that you can't even recall when exactly it was lost.

Fingers snap in front of your face, and you look up sluggishly at the person disturbing you. Twin Blade Thatch is at your bedside, looking… confused? Sad? This is another expression that you don’t recognize.

He smiles slightly, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes, “You okay there, kid?” When you don’t answer, he looks over his shoulder, “Did you give them something?”

“No,” the voice belongs to Marco. “They’ve been out of it since we caught them. They’re… really upset about getting captured, it seems.”

Thatch lightly claps you on the shoulder, “Don’t beat yourself up about it, kid. It’s not like you got caught by a weak crew. There are plenty of Marines well above your rank that wouldn’t have won that fight either.”

“Yeah, you actually gave us some real trouble there at the start.” Ace was in here too, apparently. “Not many people are able to use my own powers against me, that was pretty smart.”

“Before I forget to ask, do you have any allergies? I don’t want to accidentally kill you with my cooking.” Thatch stares at you expectantly, but his smile fades as you neglect to answer his question. “Is that a… no? Come on, I’m just trying to help you out here, you don’t need to be so guarded. I can even make you your favorite meal to make up for the situation we put you in.”

“It doesn’t matter…” Nothing does.

“Don’t say that. We’ve gotta feed you, kid.” That weird expression is on his face again. You wish he’d stop making it at you. “It won’t take long to get the medicine we need. You’ll be back with your old man before you know it.”

No!

“I won’t go back!” Hot tears start to drip down your face, then pour as the last thread of sanity within you snaps, “I’m not going back! You can’t make me go back to that place! To him! I won’t let you!”

Ace is standing close enough that you’re able to lunge at him and rip the dagger from his belt with your free hand. He tries to snatch it back, but your frenzied state gives you the speed you usually only have with your devil fruit’s help. You aren’t going back, you’ll make sure of it! Marco might be able to heal, but he isn’t a necromancer. Even he won’t be able to do anything about a corpse. Dying by your own hands will be better than being burnt alive by the magma Akainu will use on you.

You raise the knife high, then plunge it down at your stomach. A wide, manic grin breaks out across your face in what will be your final moments. You've taken control of your fate. You've won against Akainu. You can die happy knowing that.

Blood splatters all over your torso… but you don’t feel any pain. You blink once, then twice. Your eyes finally focus on the sight in front of you. The knife is stabbed into a hand. It then closes around the hilt and snatches the weapon from your hands. Ace lets out a string of curses as he stumbles back and rips his own dagger from his hand.

All you can do is stare at him. W… What? Why did he do that? That shouldn’t have hurt him. Why would a logia devil fruit user let himself get hurt like that?

Nurses rush toward him, but also you. All of your limbs are pinned down by them. Not that there was any need. The fight had left your body as your mind grew hazy again. You didn’t get it. You couldn’t comprehend what just happened or why.

A prick to your neck snaps you out of it. Your head was being held down, but your eyes flit to the side and see that Marco had a needle pressed into your neck and was injecting you with something. In an instant, a warmth spreads through you, and your body goes completely slack.

Marco heaves a sigh and sets the syringe aside. His hand gently strokes your hair for reasons you couldn’t understand. He speaks softly, “There we go, just calm down. You don’t have to go back if you don’t want to. It’s okay.”

On the other side of the room, Nurses are fretting over Ace’s wound. One even goes so far as to scold him, “What were you thinking? You have logia powers! Why would you let yourself get hurt like this?” Even in your sluggish state, your ears perk at the interrogation. You wanted to know this, too.

Ace looked almost offended by the question. “What do you mean “why”? If I’d let that go through me, it would have gone into them instead. Better my hand, than their guts.”

His answer did nothing but spawn more questions. What did he mean by that? Why would it be better for him to get hurt than for you to die? Your life was of no real significance to him. All that you were was a bargaining chip, and you didn’t even need to be alive for that. They just had to make the Marines believe that you were.

None of this makes sense. What is wrong with these people? You’re an enemy. Your death should be celebrated, not prevented. You don’t get it, and your mind growing more and more foggy by the second isn’t helping.

Your eyes are so heavy. Sleep… Sleep sounds good. Just for a little bit. You’ll figure this out after. It’s not like you’re going anywhere.

[sh4nksslvt]

I love shanks so much😭😭

Are you able to write a story where reader is a captain of another crew? Their crew isn’t super famous but aren’t weak either. Their crew is staying at some island and a tavern there when the Red-Haired pirates show up and think that they might try to fight, but reader dgaf and decides to flirt with shanks and stuff. Don’t know if your readers are Gn or female, but could the reader be described as “as beautiful as the ocean” please? I thought that would be cute!

Thank you!

🌊

thats interesting! its not much but hope u like this~~

Trouble Walks In, and So Do You

shanks x reader | ONE SHOT

tags: fluff, ocs, flirting, chaotic crews

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ff a bit cringe, akward, and confusing

word count: 1.2k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

The tavern on Bellmouth Island had never known peace.

It was tucked into the port side of the island like a cozy scar—weathered, stubborn, and full of bad decisions marinated in rum. But even Bellmouth’s most seasoned barkeep hadn’t seen anything quite like The Siren’s Fang crew.

“Hey, Cap! Tall guy passed out again!” barked Kiji, the squad’s medic, gesturing to a pile of limbs slumped over a barstool.

“Is he breathing this time?” you asked lazily, twirling a glass of rum in your hand. You sat at the tavern’s center table, leg slung over the arm of your chair, adorned in sleek leather and gold-trimmed cloth, eyes half-lidded with amusement.

“Barely,” muttered Azel, your cook-slash-unofficial-grim-reaper, poking the unconscious man with a ladle. “He mistook my hot sauce for syrup. Natural selection.”

“His fault,” you sighed.

You were Captain [Y/N], the woman many whispered about as beautiful as the ocean—mysterious, wild, and just as likely to drown you as smile at you. The Siren’s Fang wasn’t a household name like the Straw Hats or the Emperors, but in the Grand Line’s undercurrent, your reputation had teeth. Rumors swirled of your crew taking down a fleet from Big Mom’s remnants and sinking a marine battleship like it was a toy boat in a bathtub.

Still, fame didn’t interest you. Fun did.

And Bellmouth was fun—cheap booze, rowdy locals, and just enough lawlessness to feel like home.

That was until the door slammed open.

Wind howled through the tavern. Bottles rattled. Even the drunks perked up.

The Red-Haired Pirates had arrived.

You didn’t need to look. You felt it. That magnetic, crackling air of too-powerful people walking into a space too small to contain them.

Shanks led the way, one hand on the hilt of his sword, the other resting on his hip as he scanned the tavern with lazy mirth. His crew spilled in behind him—Benn Beckman, Lucky Roux, Yasopp, the works.

Ten seconds passed. Then—

“Welp. Guess we’re fighting,” muttered Neri, your tactician, flipping her dagger.

“Can’t we go one week without a legendary crew showing up?” grumbled Hyun, your shipwright, who’d just managed to tape a window back together.

“Don't break my chairs,” called the barkeep, already ducking behind the bar.

You, meanwhile, took a sip of rum.

And then, slowly, gracefully, rose to your feet.

"Are we fighting?" asked Benn, eyes narrowing slightly.

Shanks tilted his head in your direction, gaze locking onto yours.

You didn’t draw your sword.

You smiled.

“No,” you said, voice like velvet. “But I do have something else in mind.”

The room collectively blinked.

You strolled toward them with the ease of a queen and the chaos of a siren in full swing. “You must be Red-Haired Shanks,” you purred, eyes scanning him with undisguised appreciation. “You're taller than I expected. That’s... hot.”

A pause.

Then—someone from your crew let out a wheeze of disbelief. Probably Toma. He’d bet two crates of rum you’d deck Shanks on sight.

Shanks arched a brow, lips twitching. “Not the usual greeting I get from a rival pirate captain.”

“I’m not your rival,” you said, stopping only a breath away from him. You craned your head up, voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “Unless you want me to be. Enemies to lovers? That your thing?”

Lucky Roux choked on his drink.

Shanks actually laughed, the rich, boisterous sound of someone genuinely caught off guard.

“Captain,” Benn said dryly, “I think we’re being hit on.”

“DAHAHA I know, right?” Shanks grinned. “This is way more fun than usual.”

Your crew was now in a full-on state of stunned chaos.

“I—she just flirted with a Yonko. Casually. Like she was ordering a drink,” Kiji mumbled.

“She’s going to get us killed,” muttered Neri.

“No,” corrected Hyun, “she’s going to get laid.”

“Pfft—HA!”

Meanwhile, Shanks tilted his head. “So what’s your name, Ocean Eyes?”

You gave him your full title, adding, “Captain of The Siren’s Fang. And yes, I live up to the name.”

“Mm.” He leaned in just slightly. “Should I be worried you’re trying to lure me onto the rocks?”

“I’m trying to lure you onto something, that’s for sure.”

Yasopp nearly fell off his stool.

Benn facepalmed. Lucky Roux laughed so hard he snorted beer through his nose.

“Join us for a drink?” you offered innocently. “Or are you too scared I’ll make you fall in love with me?”

Shanks held your gaze for one beat. Two. Then smiled.

“I’ve done dumber things.”

And just like that, the Red-Haired Pirates sat down with the Siren’s Fang.

Tension left the room like steam off hot rum. Chairs screeched. Drinks clinked. Somewhere, your sniper was trying to discreetly message your ship’s chronicler: CAPTAIN IS FLIRTING WITH SHANKS, SEND HELP.

“...And then the marine tries to arrest me, right? While I’m naked. In the bath!” Shanks crowed, halfway through a bottle of rum, hair falling into his eyes.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, clutching your side. “Please tell me you fought him like that.”

“I slipped! Broke his nose falling out of the tub!”

You and your crew howled.

A few tables down, Benn and Neri were having a quiet intellectual standoff that involved a lot of maps and dry sarcasm. Yasopp and Hyun were arguing over gun specs. Toma was getting arm-wrestled into oblivion by Lucky Roux. It was, in short, a tavern apocalypse.

“You’re fun,” Shanks murmured, voice low, only for you.

You tilted your head. “You expected me to be scary.”

“I expected you to swing first and ask questions never.”

“Ah. That’s just on Wednesdays.”

He chuckled. “You’re dangerous.”

“You like that,” you teased.

“I do,” he admitted. “But be honest. Is this all just to distract me while your crew steals our booze?”

You sipped your drink with a wink. “What do you think?”

From across the room, a yell: “WE’VE TAKEN THE BEER STORAGE!”

“DAMN IT, KOKO!”

Shanks stared.

You said nothing.

He grinned. “Marry me?”

“Buy me a boat first.”

“You already have a ship.”

“Yeah, but I want a red one.”

As the night wore on, chaos bloomed into something almost tender. The two crews, pirates feared across the seas, were now doing karaoke with a broken lute and a guy named Phil.

You leaned against the tavern doorway, watching the madness. The moonlight brushed your skin like seafoam, your hair tousled by the salt-laced wind.

Shanks joined you silently.

“You’re really not what I expected,” he said.

“Disappointed?”

He shook his head. “Enchanted.”

You turned your head to him, eyes soft now. “You’re pretty smooth for a pirate.”

“I’m usually drunker.”

You laughed, then reached up, brushing a lock of hair from his face. “You know, Red, if I weren’t a captain…”

“Yeah?”

“I’d ask you to run away with me.”

He caught your wrist gently, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“If I weren’t a Yonko,” he murmured, “I’d say yes.”

For a moment, it felt like the sea held its breath.

Then someone inside yelled, “THE CAPTAIN AND SHANKS ARE MAKING EYES AT EACH OTHER AGAIN!”

“TAKE PICTURES!”

“START THE WEDDING SONG!”

You and Shanks groaned in unison.

“Back to the madness?” he offered.

“Only if you dance with me.”

“Deal.”

And so the two of you dove back into the tavern storm, laughing, flirting, half-dancing, half-sparring with words, like the sea and sky in a constant, chaotic waltz.

No declarations. No promises.

Just two captains in the eye of a storm they both enjoyed far too much.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Nightmare ships  

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

“Most terrifying ship I ever seen?”

Mordray repeated the question as he took a thoughtful bite of his xala and pondered the question.

“I’d have to say a Hive Node ship.”

Lithinio scoffed. “When the seven hells have you ever seen a Node ship?”

“I watched a documentary on it just last rotation.” Mordray countered rather defensively. “And having watched it I have to say I’m glad I never saw one in person since they eat entire ships whole.”

Ninten sighed and rubbed the ridges of his face. “Let me change the question then to “What is the most terrifying ship you have ever seen IN PERSON.””

Mordary took another bite as he took in the updated question while Lithinio stepped in with their own answer.

“I once saw a Dru Hunter Class while part of a convoy escort mission.” He took a sip of his drink and ran his hands through the air as if tracing the vessel.

“From bow to stern it was covered in spikes and upon each spike was a corpse. It was like a ship of the dead come to collect its toll of the living.”

“I heard the stories about those.” Ninten nodded. “Doesn’t matter if you were a victim, an enemy, or just some bad luck bastard in the wrong place at the wrong time; they’d spike you just the same. Where’d you see it?”

“The Dinar Campaign,” Lithinio replied, “they couldn’t beat our warriors on the ground so they’d send out small raiding space parties to hammer the transports and supply ships before ever reaching their worlds.”

“Lost a lot of good lads that war.”

The trio of crewmen turned to see the speaker at the table opposite them had turned around. They wore the uniform of an engineer but had several markings of honorary navy marine, honorary gunner, and even one for honorary helmsman. This could be none other than the legendary Midar Nus, the most famous crewman on the ship.

“Apologies for intruding,” Midar said sheepishly, “I was overhearing your conversation and it drew up some memories.”

‘You are more than welcome to join us sir.” Ninten said as his two comrades nodded and made room at their table for Midar to join. He smiled and took the offer, changing tables and nestling himself down in the now free space.

“No need for that protocol with me lad,” Midar spoke with a wintery grin as he eyed Ninten, “especially since you technically outrank me.”

“Experience counts for more than bars, sir.” Ninten replied without thinking.

Midar was taken aback by the boldness and for a moment Ninten thought he had overstepped himself. Instead, Midar let out a deep booming laugh and patted him on the back as Lithinio and Mordray let out a sigh of relief.

“We could have used a dozen more of you during that scuffle with the Dru; would have saved a lot of my friends.”

Ninten took the compliment and tried to redirect the conversation before he said something to ruin his now good standing with a living legend.

“What about you then? What’s the scariest ship you’ve ever seen?”

The trio listened in half expecting him to say something heroic like “I’ve never seen a ship worth being afraid of” or “I once thought I saw one, but it was really my mate’s in-law”. Instead, the old sailor replied without even pausing to think.

“The ones who piloted them don’t have a name for it officially; only a name they had given to them by a creature of their dark past.”

“Whose they?” Mordray asked as Lithinio smacked him for interrupting the answer.

“Humans crewed the things, though it’s been a thankful many years since I last encountered one of those damnable vessels.”

He leaned in close and slowly cast a frightful gaze across the three of his listeners.

“They called them “Frankenstein” ships.”

None of the three said a thing, partly because none of the three had any idea what that word meant. Midar saw this and further explained.

“There’s a story amongst humans about a human named “Dr. Victor Frankenstein”, and they were so focused on circumventing death itself that they began performing horrific experiments on the living and the dead.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ninten asked “How can you perform horrific experiments if the subject is dead?”

Midar shrugged. “Story goes the mad doctor took the chopped up pieces of several dead humans, sewed them together, and then brought the creature to life.” 

“Putting aside the continued depraved and discouraging nature of humanity,” Lithinio chimed in, “what does this have to do with their ship design?”

“Because,” Midar continued, “like their mad doctor humans have an infuriating habit carving up the parts from other ships and adding those parts to their own.”

He leaned back into his chair as he recounted his first experience. “The first time I found myself up against one of those ships was in the Delta Cluster. We just fought of a border incursion and were tasked with protecting the wreckage while we sifted for survivors.”

“We just finish a patrol when we got a strange energy signature return near the edge of the wreckage. So we went to investigate it and there we found a human ship the size of a frigate slowly drifting through the debris field using a variety of arms to grab bits and pieces of ships.”

“The captain ordered a scan of the ship and the returns were a confusing mishmash of technological parts.”

“A Thorian engine block, a Juriet power core, a Nexium stabilizer…” he said listing out a surprisingly long list of ship parts from different species.

“None of those parts are designed to work with other tech.” Mordray commented. He would know as he was part of the engineering crew and well trained in ship maintenance. “The Juriet power core alone would generate far too much power for a ship that size; dangerously so much that using it could trigger a system overload.”

Midar nodded at the crewman’s insight. “Indeed, were it not for the majority of that power also going towards a Feren Gel class shield system. We found that out when we tried to disable their engines and our volley bounced off the thing like oil on water.”

Lithinio let out a whistle in awe while Midar continued.

“After that the thing began to slowly turn to make a run out of system so we drove in hard ready to grab it with our tractor beams. We were just about to make it when a panel at the rear of the ship opened up and a turret protruded out of it.”

“One shot.” Midar remarked as he held up a single taloned finger. “It took one shot at us and shattered our shield, blew out our engines, and triggered a cascading system overload that left us dead in space as they plowed out of system and made a jump.”

Ninten grumbled as he pondered Midar’s words. “Must’ve been a Telkar railgun. It’d run the entire length of a frigate ship, but it’d pack enough of a punch to deal that kinda damage; but the recoil alone would’ve split a ship that size in half.”

“Which we later found out was counter acted by a Wu’l gravity displacement field. They jacked it to max just as the railgun would fire and the counter action would cancel out the recoil.”

“I’m still confused why these things are so scary to you?” Mordray asked with a hint of a mocking tone. “They sound like garbage barges held together with scraps.”

Midar took on an offended expression and straightened up. “They’re terrifying because you never know what you are going up against. Frigate size packing battleship class weaponry, a patrol craft that can launch mini black holes, a cruiser that interwove nanomachine and organic materials that could repair any damage; every and anything was on the table!”

The ships seemed beyond reason and logic but the enthusiasm with which he spoke there was some truth to each description.

Ninten took a sip from his drink and nodded in appreciation. “Only fitting for the species that defies existence to have ships that actively defy the laws of technology.”  

[innerfare]

Smutty Mihawk Headcanons

Summary: a collection of NSFW Mihawk headcanons

Genre: pure smut (afab!reader)

CW: a little bit of knife play (cutting clothes not skin), dirty talk, low-key masochist Mihawk, exhibitionism on the down low

———

Bisexual icon.

King of sexual tension.

Marine hunter? More like marine fucker. 

Is eternally bored, but has a keen interest in lingerie, and he rather likes cutting it off you. He never thought he would enjoy drawing a knife or sword during sex, but he finds the trust you put in him invigorating. 

A very passionate lover. His insistence on being the best carries over into the bedroom. As such, he’s no fan of quickies. He wants you tied up in his four poster bed, the curtains pulled back to allow moonlight to filter in from the balcony, your naked body sprawled across his silk sheets until the sun rises. 

Talks dirty but getting a moan out of this man is like pulling teeth. Also won’t tell you if you’ve pleased him. Your only indication is that he comes back for more. 

Of course, if you do want to get a moan out of him, the best way is to hurt him. Likes if you rake your nails up and down his back, yank his hair, bite him (especially the spot between his thumb and index finger after sucking his fingers), squeeze his face in your hands, maybe even slap him.

And then there's his bondage kink. If you tie him up, it better be to whip him. He'll start out goading you in that bored tone of his, accusing you of half-assing it, telling you to hit him harder. You know you've gotten to him when the comments cease and he bites his lip, his brow furrowing.

Doesn’t just fuck. He spars. 

Saying it again, cannot emphasize this enough, he loves a biter.  

Wants a partner who wants to be chased, as most people either throw themselves at his feet or run away with no hope of being caught. Will chase you down the halls of his castle and ravage you wherever he catches you. Poor Perona has a list of sofas she no longer sits on, counters she refuses to put food on, and entire staircases she avoids. There are even certain mirrors she doesn’t want to look in, even if the marks have been wiped away. Zoro doesn’t fully believe her when she gives him the rundown, thinking nobody can be that feral, particularly not his stoic teacher, who in his mind is the picture of restraint and civility, until he’s training by himself one day in the courtyard and happens to see you appear in one of the towers, only for Mihawk to appear after you and rather lewd sounds to follow. Also sees Mihawk fucking you hard in a window one time, and over a balcony another time. Zoro quickly learns not to enter the wine cellar between the hours of six and ten PM. 

Lives for dangerous sexual situations. Has fucked you in the woods at night despite the menagerie of dangerous beasts running around, has fucked you from behind in an open window several stories high, your front half hanging out, has even fucked you in his small boat on stormy, raging seas. Every duel he has ever enjoyed has been charged with sexual tension.

In addition to these trysts, he wants you in his bed every night after dinner. You either shower or bathe together, and then he works you into a sweat so you need another one.  

Worries deeply if you ever reject his advances, thinks it must be his fault. “Have I displeased you in some way? Tell me, my love, and I will make it right.” It’s times like this that any veneer of disinterest falls away and you see just how much he cares for you. 

Has certain pet names reserved for the bedroom. “My mewling kitten,” is his current favorite. 

Always does that thing where he strokes your temple with his thumb when he fucks you in missionary. It’s supposed to be a reassuring gesture when you’re struggling to take all of him, but it riles you up more than it calms you down. Uses his other hand to pull one of your legs up as far as it will go, so he’s pinning you down but comforting you about it. 

Loves to feel you up in the bath.

If he has more than one glass of wine, he will be going down on you. The more wine he has, the bigger his appetite for you. It gets worse with stronger liquor. When the Red Hair pirates come to stay and Shanks insists on breaking into the whiskey Mihawk keeps for that very occasion, you know you won’t be sleeping until they leave (and that Shanks will be going down on you, too). 

His favorite is to go down on you on his dining table. It makes you feel very exposed considering he strips you down but remains clothed (as is common with Mihawk when he's domming) and the dining room is very large with many doors that anyone could walk through. But that's what Mihawk enjoys about it.

If you go down on him, his hands will most certainly be in your hair. He loves smoothing your hair, and if it’s long, pulling it back into a makeshift ponytail to get the best possible view of your pretty face. 

Once moaned Shanks’ name in bed. Neither of you ever addressed it, but you do always flirt with Shanks when he and his crew come around because it seems to peak your lover’s interest. You haven’t proposed a threesome because you don’t want to share him with the Red-Haired drunk. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[the-cosmic-cauldron]

❤️‍🔥 Who Is Yearning For You: Describing Who’s Currently Crushing On You ❤️‍🔥

💌Welcome to 7 Days, 7 Posts! In honor of Valentine’s Day on February 14th, I’m releasing seven blog posts dedicated to love, intimacy, passion, and everything that ignites the flames. Join me on this journey as I share my insights through tarot.

If you enjoy my content, be sure to follow me, explore my other posts, and check out my paid services! 💌

Pile 1: The Intensely Romantic Lover

Your crush has so much energy. I’m absorbing all their energy right now, and it’s intense. They’re not for the weak, and they’re not for the faint of heart. They have a lot going on with them. They’re not completely straightforward; they hide their intentions. They don’t tell you everything, but they tell you what you want to hear. They’re crafty and creative with their words, but their follow-through could lead to chaos and disaster.

Your crush is flirtatious, charming, and probably handsome or beautiful. You’re compelled to walk into a room with them because their aura is so mesmerizing. But, they come with tricks up their sleeves. They’re not 100% solid. They shake, and when they shake, they shake things up like a can of soda with Mentos in it. They’re explosive, which can lead to high, intense passions but also toxic dynamics that could erode the relationship over time. But let’s dive deeper.

Your crush is patient. They don’t execute impulsively. They like to wait and plot. They don’t make spontaneous decisions—everything they do is calculated, contrived, coerced, and even rehearsed. They wait because they know it will take time to get what they want. They don’t burst through doors. Instead, they sit back, relax, and watch, observing you and how they can insert themselves into your world after careful evaluation. They’re quick to hide their true intentions and keep a bit of mystery, preferring to unfold gradually. They want you to uncover them, to discover the layers under what they’re showing you.

Your crush is the type of person who doesn’t rush decisions. They sit with their thoughts, marinate on them, and wait until everything feels just right. When they finally decide to move forward, it’s like the final boil of a soup, with all the flavors melded together. That’s when they make their move. But sometimes they wait too long, staying in the background, watching, observing, and never coming forward.

But when they do, it will be a complete shock. They’ve been watching you from afar with a stoic poker face. You won’t even know they like you because they keep things so calm and collected. You won’t see what’s going on in their mind, yet their mind is constantly active. When they finally come to you, it will take you by surprise. You’ll wonder how they even liked you because it seemed like they barely noticed you. But they were watching you closely behind that calm exterior.

When they do come forward, they’ll be quite the romantic. They’ll charm you, serenade you, and show you a level of tenderness and care you haven’t experienced. For them, romance isn’t just an act—it’s an arena, a stage for them to come alive. They’ll make you feel like you’re in the middle of a whirlwind romance, the kind that feels like a movie. Their gifts are never ordinary. They’ll write you love letters, send sweet texts, sing to you, rub your back or shoulders, or simply listen when you need to talk. They’ll be there for you when you need to vent, nurture you when you’re down, and always show you that they’ve got your back.

On your worst days, they’ll be right there beside you with something you want or need, something that will lift your spirits. They’ll take you on dates to places you love and places you’ve never been. They’ll introduce you to a world you don’t know, all while engaging in deep, stimulating conversations that draw them in. Your mind captivates them. They’re intrigued and want more and more of it.

This is the type of person you’ve dreamed of, the one you’ve longed for. They’re the person you could only imagine, but now they stand before you, shaking up your entire world, flipping things upside down, exploring the depths of you, while also pleasing you physically. Every moment spent with them is filled with enjoyment, quality, and meaning. Time with them is never wasted—it’s always filled with stature and status.

Pile 2: The Broken, But Ambitious Lover

The person who’s crushing on you is about their business. They’re serious and don’t play around. They’re no-nonsense people who demand the truth from you, and they only want the truth. If you walk into their life, you can’t be chaotic. You must offer them something of value—something they can accept and return to you tenfold. They only want to build and grow, and they don’t tolerate shaky foundations. They need something solid. Loyalty means everything to them. This person doesn’t play games, and if you try, you might get crushed by them.

They come across as mature because they’ve had to learn hard lessons through life. They’ve been through a lot, a tough life, but they’ve made it through, gaining a lot of wisdom from their struggles. This person has been hurt—beaten down, heartbroken, betrayed, and let down. They’ve experienced trust being broken and time wasted. They’ve gone through enough to know that people are fallible, and depending on love can make you vulnerable. That hurt has shaped them, and though it’s turned them into someone wiser, it also affects how they interact with others.

They’re serious because they don’t want to be hurt again, and they need to know who you are. They want you to reveal yourself early on so they can decide if they want you in their life. When this person wants something, they don’t mess around—they go after it. They’re a go-getter, someone who makes things happen. They don’t wait for things to come to them; they seize every opportunity and create their own blessings. When they want something, including you, they don’t hide it—they make it clear.

This person stands on business, big business. They don’t say something and retract it. They don’t second-guess or overthink. They don’t waste time tossing and turning over love. They’ve been hurt and don’t care about all that indecision. When confrontation happens, they show up—they don’t back down. They can be aggressive, coming on strong with an energy that might both scare and captivate you. They have strong boundaries and are not afraid to enforce them. Everything they know is based on logic; they don’t entertain too many opinions or get too emotional. If they defend something, it’s because they defend their facts—they won’t let anyone challenge what they know.

When things get emotionally intense, they step back. They’re afraid of being hurt, and so they pull away, especially if they feel like they might be betrayed again. In those moments, they keep to themselves, retreating and not communicating. They can come off as nonchalant or even uncaring, but it’s a defense mechanism. They may not know how to handle emotionally charged situations, and this leads them to say the wrong things or act out. Sometimes they can be blunt, disrespectful, or harsh in their words.

This person is a bit toxic—they still carry a lot of unresolved pain and baggage. But despite their flaws, they do have good intentions. They want to succeed in life, to achieve their goals, and they care about stability. They believe in themselves and in what they do. They just struggle to express their emotions in healthy ways, and their communication sometimes lacks maturity. Overall, they do care, but it’s difficult for them to show it. It’s up to you whether you want to take on this complex, sometimes difficult person with all their baggage.

Pile 3: The Mental Lover With Chains Around Their Heart

The person who has a crush on you might be in a negative mental space. They tend to think a lot about the future but are often concerned about it. Rather than focusing on the positives or having faith in the future, they lean more toward pessimism, self-doubt, and skepticism, especially when it comes to love and romance. They may have some reservations about approaching you or having a relationship with you. There are things that they are unsure about.

However, this person loves communication. It’s a skill of theirs, and they enjoy engaging in intellectual conversations. This is their area of strength—providing facts and sharing information. They could have a lot of air sign placements or even be an air sign themselves. When they speak, they are clear, direct, and not one for subtlety. They prefer to communicate in a concrete, factual way, and they enjoy back-and-forth exchanges of information.

At times, though, they can seem a bit cold. Their focus on facts and logic, as well as their negative thinking and lack of faith, can make them appear distant, a bit dreary, or even depressed. They might seem unreachable or emotionally unavailable, as if they’re constantly in their head, overwhelmed with anxiety.

They also tend to get into heated arguments easily. This person does not back down from discussions, especially when there are differing opinions involved. They often stand firm in their views, which can sometimes be controversial and spark tension. Because of this, they may unintentionally hurt people’s feelings. They aren’t particularly empathetic or compassionate in these situations, and instead of apologizing, they often double down, defending their statements more than acknowledging when they are wrong. Their pride sometimes prevents them from admitting when they’re mistaken, and they might not apologize easily.

They can be assertive to the point of aggression, and this trait can turn into dominance. Their assertiveness might come off as overly forceful or even hostile, and they may struggle with conflict and disagreements. This person might be disconnected from their emotions and is more focused on their logical, masculine energy. They likely don’t engage in creative outlets such as drawing, dancing, or writing, which would help nurture their feminine side. They also may not prioritize their appearance or self-care. They could seem rough around the edges, not nurturing their body, emotions, or environment. They may not even make an effort to create a comfortable space for themselves, which reflects their lack of connection with their feminine energy.

It’s possible that this person comes from an unstable family background or has experienced significant emotional wounds, such as a mother wound. These unresolved issues have caused them to suppress their softer, more vulnerable side and focus on the masculine, fact-based aspects of life. This individual has endured significant pain, heartbreak, and betrayal, which has left them carrying a lot of emotional baggage.

They may have recently gone through a breakup or divorce, which has left their heart closed off. The instability in their love life has made it hard for them to trust others, and they might be struggling to find confidence or excitement in their daily life. They feel stagnant and are holding onto what they know, unable to offer anything stable or healthy at this time. While they may have a crush on you, they currently lack the emotional stability and openness required to build a meaningful relationship. They are still in the process of healing and growing before they can fully embrace love and romance again.

Pile 4: The Calm and Focused Lover

The person who has a crush on you, may be stuck in the past. They could still be emotionally attached to someone else, or they might be holding on to past feelings. Even though they like you, their lingering emotions for someone else make it difficult for them to fully open up and connect with you. This emotional attachment could result in a relationship that feels unbalanced or lacks reciprocity.

Your crush may still be healing from emotional pain caused by a past relationship, and they’re not yet fully over it. They might feel stuck in a standstill, unable to move forward. Despite this, they hide their struggles and tend to be passive, avoiding confrontation and conflict. This person is likely non-confrontational and avoids conflict, possibly feeling inadequate at times. They may not feel capable of meeting certain expectations and may struggle to assert themselves in the relationship, which could lead to a sense of reservation or being closed off.

They likely move slowly when it comes to relationships because they are unsure of what they want. This slow pace, combined with their passive personality, may make them seem distant or unsure. Although they may come off as sweet and youthful, with an optimistic and generous outlook on life, they are probably very sentimental and value emotional connections deeply. This sentimentality might be why they struggle to let go of the past and move on from it.

Despite these emotional struggles, they have strong qualities. They’re probably organized and have goals for the future, feeling content with where they are in life, especially in terms of material success. They’re likely a quiet person, who values self-respect and prefers to avoid conflict. This focus on stability means they are more likely to walk away from a situation than engage in a heated argument. They prefer to keep things calm and stable, and they’re not inclined to lead or control others. They don’t want to come across as aggressive or domineering; instead, they prefer to focus on themselves and their personal growth.

Your crush is a practical person who prioritizes stability and success. They move at their own pace, taking their time to evaluate situations. They envision a successful future, with great health and material wealth, but they don’t rush toward emotional engagement, especially when it comes to love. They might have a crush on you, but they hesitate to invest deeply because they prefer to avoid overwhelming emotions. They value calmness, predictability, and groundedness over emotional excitement or passion. They’re more focused on dedication, ambition, and personal responsibility than on managing the emotions or expectations of others.

This person may come off as young in some ways, but in reality, they are mature and serious about their goals. They have things going well for them in life and are likely to be grounded in their approach. They’re not likely to charge into a relationship aggressively, but they will approach you in a direct and honest way, maintaining a calm demeanor. Overall, they seem to be in a better place, but it’s clear they still need time and space to work through their emotional attachments from the past.

[lissomelace]

THE EUROPA CLIPPER LAUNCHED THIS MORNING, AND I AM SO NOT NORMAL ABOUT IT!!!!!

Space is so fucking awesome. We're headed to one of JUPITER'S MOONS!

Every time a launch happens, it makes the latent space enthusiast in the back of my brain jump up and down. It also derailed all my plans for today. I did have plans.

Instead, someone made one comment about how I could now maybe make mission patches on my embroidery machine, and the space thing crossed over with my current hyperfixation (silm) to produce THIS:

Mission patch for the launch of Gil-Estel! A bit messy, but a good place to start!

Design and linguistics details under the cut, because I put WAY too much thought into it and now must talk SOMEONE's ear off about it. Feel free to ignore this bit:

So, to start: Elvish NASA. I chose to call them Vardildi Elengolmo Vilciryamoyë, or VEV. The Followers of Varda, Astronomers and Astronauts. This could very much be totally wrong. Vardildi is Varda+the suffix used in Yavannildi, the followers of Yavanna. Elengolmo comes from the coined word for astronomer, Elengolmë (star-lore), with the -o suffix from nolmo, wise person. Vilciryamoyë takes the vil- from the root of vilya, meaning air, sky. ciryamo is mariner, and yë is the suffix added to the second word meaning 'and'. (I may be very, VERY wrong on this! If anyone has better ideas, I very much welcome input/guidance/constructive criticism)

So I stuck the tengwar for this on either side of the patch. (None of the tengwar is all that legible, though, I'm working on getting that sorted out) Most NASA mission patches don't actually have NASA on them, but I put it on anyway. Here is the tengwar and the start of a logo I made an attempt at (the tehta is supposed to be a shooting star, but that did NOT come through clearly in the embroidery [because it's tiny]):

(Probably going to try to make an elvish NASA patch before too long, honestly)

Most NASA patches (from research I did with great self-restraint here) have the (last) names of the astronauts. Not sure if they also have the name of the craft or if that's generally somewhere else, but I put both--Eärendil Ardamírë (his fathername and mothername) are the tengwar at the bottom of the patch, and Vingilotë is written on the keel of the ship. None of these are legible because they are small, and my machine has limits. It's a work in progress. Also I apologize for the bad lighting in the photo.

NASA patches sometimes also have a mission motto. That's the tengwar across the top of the patch here-- aiya Eärendil elenion ancalima, Hail Eärendil, brightest of stars (a common cry among elves and Frodo [when facing Shelob]).

(I half wanted to do something a bit more funny--maybe something like 'Now I have become Venus,' or 'Do I get to come down?' but this was a bit easier since it comes pre-translated into Quenya and tengwar, and also I have no faith in my Quenya translations that are any longer than a word)

The horizon is flat because Númenor exists, in the middle there between the shore of Middle-Earth and a teensy bit of Valinor and the Enchanted Isles.

The design for the Silmaril is sort of taken from the heraldic device Tolkien designed for the Silmarilli (though it isn't clear), and it is rayed with the six-pointed star from Eärendil's device. (I stuck the moon phases from the same source around the edges as well)

This was really fun, even if it might be the silliest thing I've ever made! It definitely needs some workshopping--i don't mind the black lines framing some sections from the background fabric, but I might try turning all the tengwar into lines of stitches instead-the satin columns really are illegible.

I now need to restrain myself from doing some sort of NASA/Astronaut Earendil AU, because it now sounds kind of fun (I do not have the background knowledge for this)

Sources:

NASA patches here: https://www.shopnasa.com/collections/patches

Quenya translations here: https://www.elfdict.com/

Tengwar transcriptions here: https://www.tecendil.com/

And if you want info on the Europa Clipper mission, here: https://science.nasa.gov/mission/europa-clipper

Embroidery digitization done with Embrilliance Stitchartist 1, embroidery done with a Brother SE630 machine. Thread is Brothread Cotton and YLI cotton bobbin thread, with a little sulky rayon on the Silmaril. Cloth is a black linen from Fabric Wholesale Direct.

[beckyninja]

The Curse

Pairing: SalamanderOC x FemReader

Warnings: some violence, some obsession

Description: As Nev'ran's longing for his Diamond grows, she discovers something truly horrific about her intended husband.

A damsel in distress? Check. Star-crossed lovers? Check. A creepy rival with a dark secret? Check. Can you tell I love the classic tropes?

This is a continuation of my Salamander x Reader series, which you can find on my Masterlist.

The icy wind howled like a living, vengeful thing when you stepped off the transport. It clawed into every bit of exposed skin. You pulled your hood tighter around your face, already longing for the warmth of the Salamanders’ battle barge. 

For his warmth.

No. Don’t think about that, about him. Numb yourself. 

Your eyes lifted to the settlement around you. White ice and dull silver metal, as far as the eye could see. Frozen and lifeless.

They’d told you the majority of the colony’s population lived underground, in a city carved from the bedrock. Between that and the mines, you wondered how many of the citizens had ever seen the surface.

And that’s where I’ll spend the rest of my days too. Down, down in the hard, frozen depths.

Not even the numbness of your heart could fight off the leaden dread in your stomach.

The shriek of cold metal pierced through the howling wind. You turned to see a portion of the floor slide back to reveal an elevator. Six figures, so bundled they barely looked human, stood on the platform. One towered a full foot over the rest.

The guards sent to collect you marched forward as one. You stumbled in the ankle-deep snow, trying to keep up with the inhuman regularity of their steps. Servitors of some kind?

At last you stepped onto the platform. The tall figure reached out one claw-like gloved hand and beckoned. 

You approached, fighting back the urge to make a break for the departing transport. The dread in your gut intensified. Your heart pounded in your ears.

As you reached the tall figure, the platform shook and began to descend. The panel above you slid shut with another ear splitting shriek. For a moment, all was frigid darkness. Then the lumens flickered on.

Revealing a cadaverous face pressed close to yours.

You jerked back with a gasp. Only for thin fingers, so cold they burned your flesh, to grasp your chin with frightening strength. They turned your face from side to side while thin gray lips pursed.

“Young. Healthy. Teeth?”

“Wh-what-?”

The fingers tightened, forcing your jaw open. Colorless eyes narrowed.

“Good. Good.”

The fingers released you, and you stumbled back. “H-how dare you! I am-”

“My betrothed.” The lips stretched into a horrible mockery of a smile, revealing teeth too large for the mouth they sat in. “Welcome home, dear.”

You welcomed the darkness that overwhelmed you.

***

Nev’ran felt bone crack beneath his fist as he drove it into his opponent’s jaw. The other Salamander staggered back, guard dropping for a fraction of a second. That was all the old Apothecary needed.

He rammed his shoulder into the younger Marine’s chest. One hand hooked a knee, yanked, and his sparring partner collapsed to the mats. 

Nev’ran heard his brothers muttering outside of the cage. They thought the match over.

No. Not enough!

Red still tinted his vision. Lava still burned in his veins.

Ignoring the shouts from the other Marines, he fell upon his fallen opponent. His fists swung, pulping flesh and snapping bone. Again. Again.

No longer did he see a fellow Salamander beneath him. A baseline male lay there. The face was obscured, the shape vague, but Nev’ran knew him. The bastard who’d stolen his Diamond.

A roar of fury burst from his throat.

“Master! Master, stop!”

Hands grasped his shoulders. He bucked and heaved, but more and more hands dragged him away from his prey. 

“Release me!” He bellowed.

A familiar face appeared before him. “Apothecary Nev’ran, control yourself!”

“Captain?”

He shook his head, and the red haze faded. The burning within cooled. He saw, not his hated rival, but a Battle Brother laying on the floor of the sparring cage. Blood covered the young Marine’s battered face.

“Vulkan’s burning eyes…,” Nev’ran whispered in horror. “I…I did not…get him to the Apothecarion, quickly!”

As the unconscious Salamander was lifted and carried away, he moved to follow. A hand on his shoulder halted him.

“Apothecary Hur’reth will tend him.” Captain Xavus’s face was grim. “You and I must speak.”

The tone of his voice brooked no argument. Nev’ran followed him into an empty arming chamber, not even bothering to wipe the blood from his clenched fists.

Emperor, forgive me. What have I done?

“I know what you would speak to me of, Xavus.”

The Captain kept his back turned. “Do you?”

“It will not happen again.”

“That is what you told me the last time. And Hur’reth informs me this is not the second sparring partner you’ve brutalized, but the fifth.” He finally turned, red eyes blazing. “What are you doing, Nev’ran?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. How could they?

Do you expect me to tell you my hearts burn for a woman, Captain? A woman with soft eyes and a softer smile. A woman I swore to keep warm all her days. A woman who was to be my second chance!

He closed his mouth and looked away.

The Captain sighed. “What is done, is done, my friend. You must let it go.”

“I cannot.”

“Nev’ran-”

“She did not wish to leave. I saw it in her eyes!”

“Do not-”

“She would have accepted me, had I asked. I would have asked. I would have claimed her as my mate.”

“This is not-”

“She was MINE.”

“Apothecary Nev’ran!” The Captain bellowed. “I did not want to censure you, but this obsession has clouded your judgement, distracted you from your duty. You will report to the Chaplain and be assigned penance.”

Nev’ran’s spine snapped straight. “For how long?”

“For as long as it takes to purge this unseemly desire from your soul.”

Nev’ran bowed his head and bit his tongue.

He felt the Captain’s hand on his shoulder. “I understand, old friend. I know you have suffered. But she was never yours.”

You did not see the way she looked at me.

“Captain!” The Lieutenant burst into the room. “We will have to delay our departure from this world.”

“Explain.”

“Navigator Esha reports that a Warp storm has formed around the planet.”

Captain Xavus stepped forward. “Did the Lady Navigator give any further details?”

“She said the storm is small, and she hopes it may dissipate within a few days, a week at most. Until then, she strongly advises against Warp travel.”

The news hit Nev’ran like a blow to the stomach. “So, we are trapped here.”

His bitter laughter resulted in concerned looks from the Captain and Lieutenant.

“Report to the Chaplain immediately, Apothecary.”

***

You awoke to something warm and wet being drawn across your brow. 

“My L-L-Lady?”

The timid voice roused you fully and you opened your eyes. You lay in a massive, four poster bed. Furs and blankets covered you from chin to foot. Candles flickered throughout a bedchamber seemingly carved from solid stone. You pushed yourself into a sitting position, allowing the coverings to fall to your waist.

A blast of icy air shocked a gasp from your lungs.

Hands pushed the furs and blankets back around your shoulders. “P-p-please keep this on, my L-L-Lady!”

Clutching the coverings, you turned to see a young woman standing to your right. Near-translucent skin shone in the candlelight. Huge gray eyes looked at you from amidst a tangle of white blond hair.

Colorless. Just like this room, just like the surface. Just like…that man.

You shivered, and the girl quickly tucked the coverings tightly around you. “Y-y-you are not yet used to the c-c-cold, my Lady. Y-y-you should stay c-c-covered.”

“Where am I?”

“The G-G-Governor’s m-m-manor, my Lady.”

Your heart sped up and you peered around the room for any sign of your skeletal fiance. “He’s not here.”

“N-n-no, my Lady. Governor Ledyanoy is in his-” a sharp pause, “not here.”

“Who are you?”

“My n-n-name is Lili, my L-L-Lady. I am to be your h-h-handmaid.”

You fell back against the dull, white pillows. 

That man, that creature, is my future husband?!

You remembered the feeling of his cold, hard fingers on your face and shivered again. So different from the warm, calloused hands of-

Shoving the memories, the longing, down deep, you forced yourself to fling back the covers and swing your feet over the side of the bed. Lili flitted around you like an agitated moth, eyes growing even wider when you informed her you were leaving the room.

“Oh, n-n-no, my Lady!”

“I must speak to the Governor, Lili. There is a wedding to be planned, formal documents to sign. I must inspect the manor if I’m to be Mistress here.”

The girl’s face twisted with fear. “The G-G-Governor ordered you are to r-r-remain here, my Lady.”

“Am I a prisoner, to be locked away in this room until he sends for me?” Your voice came out harsher than you intended.

The girl dropped to her knees, shaking like a leaf. “P-p-please, my Lady! He’ll p-p-punish me if I l-l-let you….”

Her voice trailed off, and you felt a stab of guilt as tears welled in her gray eyes. You reached down and lifted her to her feet. Her bare feet.

“Emperor! You must be freezing as much as I! Quick, climb in here.” You scooted to one side and lifted the covers.

“I c-c-couldn’t-”

“I insist.” You patted the mattress. “I order it, if that makes you feel better.”

The girl blinked at you for a moment, then climbed into the bed. You tucked the blankets around the both of you. Already, it felt good to have a warm, living person next to you. Something to combat the sterile chill.

The girl sighed and curled in on herself. “Th-th-thank you, my Lady. You are k-k-kind.”

“As soon as the wedding is finalized, I’ll make sure you and the other servants are properly clad.”

Lili gave you an odd look. “Other s-s-servants?”

“Yes. I was told before I came that the Governor’s manor stretches for miles under the surface. Surely it requires an army of servants to maintain.”

“S-s-servitors, my L-L-Lady.”

You blinked at her. “You mean….”

“The G-G-Governor prefers s-s-servitors, my Lady. Only s-s-servitors.”

Servitors were a part of daily life in the Imperium. But all the nobles you’d ever encountered preferred human servants to the shambling, blank-eyed cyborgs. An image filled your mind of cold, stone halls inhabited solely by mindless beings of metal and rotting flesh.

“But you…? You’re not…?”

“The G-G-Governor’s f-f-first wife preferred human s-s-servants, my Lady. Ever since, he’s k-k-kept at least one.”

“First wife?” The dread came surging back. “How many…?”

“You are the f-f-fifth.” The look Lili gave you was full of hopeless pity. “My L-L-Lady, you should not have c-c-come here.”

***

The Chaplain’s voice, roughened from centuries of incense smoke, rumbled through the Chapel. Prayers for protection, for honor, for victory. They rolled through Nev’ran’s head like an unstoppable lava flow, punctuated now and again by ringing clangs as the Sacratium serfs brought hammers down upon the Holy Anvils.

Nev’ran knelt before the altar, as he had for the past ten hours. No rest. No sustenance. Only prayer.

Soft eyes. Soft hands. Soft smiles.

Emperor, grant me focus.

The first time he’d made you laugh. The first time you'd relaxed in his presence. The first time you'd said his name.

Emperor, drive these desires from my hearts.

When you'd looked at him amidst the frost of your ruined chamber. When you'd regained your strength under his ministrations. When you'd come to his Apothecarion, day after day.

Emperor, purify me with-

The moment his lips had barely brushed yours.

A desperate groan tore from his chest. The Chaplain’s chanting ceased.

“Tell me, brother.”

Nev’ran bowed his head in shame. “My prayers go unanswered, Chaplain.”

“This woman still distracts you?”

“She does.”

“Hmmm.” Nev’ran sensed the Chaplain at his side. “Our Chapter has long recognized the blessings women bring. Ever since the Primarch walked among us, we knew love was not something to be repressed, but nurtured. It gives us a strength many other Chapters lack.”

“I know, Chaplain.”

“But the love of a Salamander is unlike that of mortal man.”

Nev’ran recited the teachings he’d learned at the feet of his own Master, centuries ago. “A Dragon’s love runs hot. If left untempered, it leads to obsession…”

“And?”

His throat dried. “And madness.”

“Your feet turn toward that path even now, Apothecary.”

Nev’ran clenched his fists on his knees. “How do I turn away, Chaplain?”

“Endure, brother. As the blade is tempered in flame, so our souls are tempered in suffering.”

Your face. Your voice. Your-

He bit the inside of his cheek, the pain driving away the memories. “And if I cannot, Chaplain?”

“You will.” A heavy gauntlet landed on his shoulder, the fingers grasping too hard to be comforting. “You must.” 

Emperor, grant me focus. Emperor, grant me focus. Emperor-

The image of you in the arms of another man.

“Emperor, please!”

***

You perched on the edge of the bed and stared at nothing. Three days. Three days you’d languished in this icy cell of a bedchamber. You only knew the amount of time from the meals Lili brought you at regular intervals. 

You glanced at the door, ears straining for the sound of human footsteps. Not the shuffling of lobotomized monsters.

What kind of icy hell have I been abandoned in?

You conjured up an image of the Governor of your homeworld. A corpulent woman, drowning in fine cloth and gems the size of your fist, eyes beady and full of avarice. The old hatred, beaten into submission for so long, bloomed anew in your heart.

“Damn you to the Void for choosing me. You had daughters aplenty to sell off. And yet you sacrificed me.”

A platter with the remains of your noon meal lay next to you on the bed. You picked it up and flung it against the stone wall. The clang sounded blasphemous in the eternal silence of this manor.

Not a manor, a tomb. A tomb for a walking corpse.

He’d finally visited you that morning, standing at the foot of the bed and staring with those dead eyes. All the questions you’d told yourself you would ask died on your tongue under that gaze.

When he’d finally spoken, it was not to you, but to himself. “Yes, good. A fine specimen, not like the others. One more day, a few more…preparations. All will be ready then. As was promised.” Only then had an unholy light come into his eyes and he’d spoken directly to you. “We will create life together.”

You thanked the Emperor you’d managed not to vomit until he left.

Lili had whispered to you that the Governor was mad. That he sent his servitor-guards among the miners, dragging people off, never to be seen again. Of strange sights and sounds and smells that had begun to seep through the caverns of late, like a spreading infection.

Of how each bride brought to the manor disappeared within days.

The citizens were terrified. Work in the mines had ground to a halt. Yet the Governor seemed not to notice, spending his days locked in a mysterious “laboratory”.

“They s-s-say it’s in the d-d-deepest part of the manor, b-b-built by the Governor’s great-grandfather.” Lili had whispered just last night, huddled against you beneath the covers. “My f-f-father says the ruling f-f-family only got stranger and s-s-stranger afterwards.”

I have to get out.

You didn’t know where you’d go or what you’d do. But staying here was unthinkable. Damn the treaty. Damn your homeworld’s debts. The idea of “creating life” with that thing posing as a man….

I’d rather freeze to death on the surface.

Where was Lili? You’d need her help to escape. She should have been here by now. Standing, you looked toward the heavy stone door. With slow, hesitant steps, you approached it. Your hands found the knob, the icy metal sticking to your skin. You turned it.

What a fool I am. Of course it won’t-

The door swung open. 

Desperate courage filled you and you darted out. Frosted walls and flickering lumens gave the hallway a surreal feel. But you steeled your nerves. You’d been strong once, before you’d been dragged from your home, molded, and thrown into this nightmare. Nev’ran had seen that strength within you. 

You could be strong again.

“Emperor, guide me.”

You picked a direction and began walking. For hours you walked, seeing no one, not even a lumbering servitor. The silence was absolute.

“Emperor, show me the way.”

After another empty eternity, you noticed a change in the air. It grew steadily more humid. The frosted walls turned moist and rank, dotted with mold. And the smell….

You lifted a corner of your cloak to cover your mouth and nose. The stench intensified with each step. Rot and decay. The stone walls grew pockmarked, in some places more mold than stone. The floor squashed beneath your feet.

Why am I doing this? This is not the way out. This is wrong. This is so wrong!

And yet, something compelled you forward. 

“Emperor, Emperor, Emperor….”

The spongy floor took on a steep decline. You staggered, feet slipping on the rotten stone. Once, you touched the wall for balance, only to jerk away as something slimy wiggled beneath your fingers.

At last, at the bottom of a long, twisting ramp, a door rose before you. Markings covered the dripping wood. Markings that hurt your mind to look upon.

You turned to flee when a sharp scream and the sound of running feet stopped you in your tracks. The door burst outward, and a female form covered in moldering rags lurched into you.

“Lili!”

The maid grasped your shoulders with hands stained green and brown. Great gasps tore through her bared teeth. Her eyes burned with terror bordering on madness.

“Run!”

Behind, through the open door, came a cacophony of moans and horrible, wet gurgles, accompanied by a stench so intense you swore you could see its foul miasma. Lili screamed again and clutched at you.

You grasped her hand and fled back up the ramp.

“Help! Someone help us!”

***

Nev’ran stood before the great viewport. Below, the ice world turned. Bare. Sterile. Dead. 

No place for my Diamond.

After three days on his knees, begging the Emperor for respite, the Chaplain allowed him to leave the Chapel. He was supposed to be resting, taking sustenance, regaining his strength. Then, back to his penance.

For his soul still had not been cleansed.

Do you think of me, my Diamond? When he takes you in his arms, do you pretend it is me?

The thought still sent fiery rage searing through his veins. Part of him despaired. He would never be cleansed, never be free of this torturous longing.

This is punishment. For failing as a mate and father, I am doomed to grasp for something always just out of reach.

Or am I?

The intrusive thought he’d held off since your departure wormed its way back into his conscious mind. You were not out of reach. It was only a short flight from the Flamewrought to the surface. And then?

This colony was tiny as far as colonies went. The Governor couldn’t have more than a hundred or so guards. He’d torn through that many orcs all on his own. He would find you. He would take you, even if he had to tear you from the arms of the pathetic mortal who dared lay claim to what was his.

You’d come willingly. I know you would.

Part of him fought against the mad idea, but it wouldn’t quiet. Before he knew it he found himself striding toward the arming room. The serfs gave him strange looks when he demanded his full wargear, but did not argue. Then, to his chambers. His flamer, his chainsword. The weight felt good in his hands.

He was halfway to the hangar when Hur’reth stepped in front of him.

“Master, do not.”

“Get out of my way, boy.” The dragon within Nev’ran snarled.

“This is madness. You must know that!”

Nev’ran raised his chainsword.

“Would you strike me, Master?”

The question rattled him and he lowered the weapon. “No…no.”

Hur’reth looked bewildered. “A few weeks with this woman, and you are willing to throw everything away for her. Why?”

Nev’ran looked his former apprentice in the eye. “How long did you know Matia before you would have thrown yourself at a Carnifex for her?”

Hur’reth was silent.

“She is my last chance.” Nev’ran pleaded. “And she is trapped on that planet against her will. I cannot abandon her!”

A long pause. Then his former apprentice sighed.

“At least let me get my wargear and weapons.”

Nev’ran grinned, his hearts swelling with pride. “I knew you would not-”

“APOTHECARY NEV’RAN TO THE COMMAND CENTER.” The voice of Captain Xavus roared over vox. “WE ARE RECEIVING A TRANSMISSION FROM THE PLANET BELOW.”

He and Hur’reth reached the Command Center in record time. Captain Xavus stood over the holo-table, accompanied by the Lieutenant and a half dozen other battle brothers.

“Get the signal back, magus!” The Captain snapped at a techpriest fiddling with the table’s controls.

The admech squawked in binary and flipped a few switches. A flickering image appeared.

Nev’ran’s hearts stopped. “Diamond….”

“shhhh...hear me? Please, can anyone hear me?” Your voice cut in and out, but he heard the terror in it. “Please…shhh…Emperor save…shhh…please!”

“My Lady.” The Captain answered. “This is Captain Xavus of the Salamander’s Fourth Company. We are still in orbit around the planet. What is wrong?”

“shhh...Xavus? Thank the…shhh…please, help…shhh….”

The image flickered again. Nev’ran lunged forward.

“Diamond? Diamond! I am here. What has happened?”

“Nev’ran?” Hope burned in your eyes as the interference faded for a blessed moment. “Something terrible is happening down here. The Governor is mad! More than that, he’s a heretic, conspiring with daemons!”

A faint boom sounded. Your image spun around and Nev’ran heard another frantic voice.

“My L-L-Lady! The d-d-door won’t hold!”

“Emperor, protect us!” You turned back toward the transmitter. “They’re horrible! Walking corpses and, and…worse things. Things of slime and rot. The Governor’s been sacrificing the citizens, calling forth…shhh….”

As your voice faded into static once more, Nev’ran’s blood ran cold. 

Spawn of Nurgle.

“Diamond, can you get somewhere safe?”

“Safe? Nowhere is-,” a resounding crash, screams. “Nev’ran! Help-”

The transmission died.

“NO!” He grasped the control panel, the metal bending beneath his gauntlets.

The Captain was already barking orders. “Lieutenant, form a squad! We have a Chaos incursion on our hands!” He glanced at the two Apothecaries. “How fortunate you two are already prepared for battle.”

Nev’ran grasped the hilt of his chainsword. “Into the fires of battle, unto the anvil of war!”

As his brothers lifted their fists and roared, his eyes once again found the planet through the viewport.

Live, my Diamond. Your Dragon is coming.

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[kaiijo]

ALL WRAPPED UP — PORTGAS D. ACE

pairing: portgas d. ace x gn! reader content: canon-typical depictions of injury and blood notes: after months of obsession, finally a one piece post

Your eyes drift to the open ocean again, watching the horizon with a hawk-like awareness. You shouldn’t be this distracted, not when you need to be formulating a strategy to propose to Whitebeard and the rest of the Division Commanders. 

“You know he’s going to be fine,” Marco reminds you for what feels like the millionth time, giving you that same, knowing look. 

You nod back. “Yeah, I do,” you reply but you can hear the tightness in your tone and the voice in your head reminds you that he’s been gone three days longer than expected. 

You know that Ace is one of the strongest members of the crew; it’s the reason Whitebeard promoted him so quickly to Division Commander, the reason your captain sends him on solo missions often. It certainly doesn’t hurt that he has the power of the Flame-Flame fruit, but even the strongest of pirates have been beaten — Gol D. Roger being a perfect example.

You see a dot in the distance, which grows bigger as it draws closer. You hope it’s Ace but you put your crewmates on alert, just in case. To your utter relief, you recognize the yellow of Ace’s Striker but the relief is short-lived as he comes into focus. He’s gripping the boat’s mast, cuts and dark bruises marring his tanned skin. You don’t think twice as you jump off the side of the Moby Dick, landing steadily on the bow of the Striker. 

Ace shoots you a signature lopsided smile, though it’s a bit pinched. “Don’t think you asked permission to board.”

You sigh and roll your fondly, trying to quell your racing heart as you slip an arm around his shoulders. His own arm drapes across your shoulders as the crew hoists the two of you up. With a cursory glance over him, Marco says, “Let’s get you to the infirmary.”

Ace untangles himself from you as soon as his feet land on the deck. “I’m fine, Doc,” he says. The way he stumbles a little as he tries to right himself and the blood slowly dripping from the deepest laceration at his shoulder doesn’t help his case. 

Marco levels him with a stern look and a firm grasp on his uninjured shoulder, both of which make Ace sigh in acquiescence and follow Marco down into the ship. You chew on your lip, about to follow, but Thatch says, “Let Marco work. We’ve got a Division meeting. Check on Ace after.”

You glance one more time at the way the two men left before following Thatch to the captain’s quarters. 

You’re hurrying down the steps towards the infirmary as soon as the meeting ends. You’re not even really sure what you all discussed. You can only assume it’s something about swords and cannons and the Marines, and you’ll get Thatch or Izou to catch you up on it later but you have more pressing concerns right now. 

You nearly collide with Marco in your rush. “Sorry,” you say breathlessly. “How is he?”

Marco peers down at you through his glasses, half-amused, and answers, “Good. He’s been whining about not seeing you and it’s my duty to keep patients happy. So…” He slides over and you open the door. 

Ace is wrapped in gauze and bandages, reclined grumpily in one of the infirmary beds. His face lights up when he sees you and he tries to sit up, wincing when he does. “Don’t get up,” you say, pulling the chair that is next to his bed closer to it. You adjust the pillow and unconsciously reach up to brush a stray strand of hair from his eyes. They follow your motion and when you realize that he’s now staring at your face, you quickly drop your hand. 

There are so many questions racing through your head but the first, and most logical, one is: “What happened?”

Ace groans and huffs, “Got ambushed. Thought I was finished collecting intel and let my guard down a little too early.” When he sees you studying the dressing Marco wrapped around him, he nudges you with his elbow. “You should’ve seen the other guy.”

It makes you laugh a little and in turn, Ace’s smile grows wider. “You know,” he says, leaning close. You hold your breath as he puts his face only an inch or two away from yours. “I’ve always heard that a kiss makes everything hurt less.”

He wiggles his eyebrows teasingly, a mischievous glint shining in his dark eyes. You gulp down the knot that has formed in your stomach and your cheeks are on fire. He smells like sea salt and the open sky. You can count every freckle that dots his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Ace’s smile falters when you don’t answer and he jerks back, stumbling over his words. “It’s no pressure or anything! It’s just something I’ve—”

Plucking up all your courage, you shift forward and move quickly so you don’t lose your nerve. Gently, you let your lips brush against the worst of his injuries: the cut in his right shoulder. You draw away swiftly and when you survey his face, you push down the pleasant warmth in your belly at the way his face goes red.

[thedroneranger]

Fireside

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Synopsis: Jake wants to make sure his wife's terrible work week ends with a bang.

Notes: Part of the To-do List collection. Shoutout to my BB™s that listen to me drone on and on about Jake (and Glen and all 32 teeth): @cherrycola27 @roosterforme @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32 🖤

Warnings: 18+ only; smut.

Word count: 3.3k.

This week was one of those weeks Mrs. Seresin had to remind herself she loved her job. Most of the time, her clients were a joy. Even her selective clients—she enjoyed the challenge they brought.

What made her sometimes rethink her line of work were the naysayers and women who were mean to her because their husbands had wandering eyes. 

She was not looking forward to potentially taking a client to court. Her drive home was spent on the phone with her attorney and accountant, revisiting the terms of her work agreement. She always had the option to terminate a contract but needed to weigh the financial loss.

Jake knew his wife had been having a rough week, and he was determined to end it on a high note. 

Many of his higher-ups had a soft spot for his wife, and he wasn’t afraid to use that to his advantage. Yesterday, he used it to ensure he was able to leave work early today. On his way home, he picked up some groceries to surprise her with dinner—any excuse to use the outdoor kitchen.

A sucker for his wife’s three-legged best friend, Jake also came home early enough to take Ruck for a run. After their jaunt, he prepared the things that needed to be marinated for dinner before popping upstairs to shower.

Mrs. Seresin was surprised to see his truck in the driveway as she neared the house. Tempted to rush her call, she patiently sat in her vehicle and finished it. She was not surprised that Ruck was the first to greet her as she entered the house.

It was silent as she set down her things and wandered around, looking for Jake. Finally, she stumbled upon him, barefoot, shirtless, clad in gray sweatpants—slung low on his waist—and messy, wet hair. He was dicing okra and tending the grill.

“Hi, chef,” she said as she slipped out the door into the backyard. He greeted her with his bright smile. Jake stopped and sat the knife on the counter as she wrapped herself around him. She rested her cheek on his bare chest, relishing the feeling of the hair there as they hugged. The tension in her body told him her day was just like the other four this week. 

Jake kissed the top of her head, and then she looked up at him by resting her chin on his pectoral. He leaned down and kissed her lips. She pushed onto her toes to deepen it. He smiled into the kiss, and then broke it. “You should shower while I finish dinner.”

She closed her eyes and pushed her lips into a pout, pretending to think about it. “Fine.” Feigning a whine, she untangled herself. He smacked her ass as she turned to head into the house, and then he acted like he’d done nothing as he went back to cutting okra. She glanced over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes at him.

The shower was a welcome reprieve from the day. She stood under the showerhead and let the water rush down her body. She replayed her day in her head before letting herself think about the evening with Jake. Curled up, with healthy pours of wine, next to the outdoor fireplace. Ruck at their feet.

Her thoughts of the evening ahead were interrupted as her stomach growled. Remembering she had skipped lunch, she quickly finished her shower to get to whatever deliciousness Jake was cooking. She had a hunch she was getting a signature Texas comfort meal.

Since his outfit was nothing but gray sweatpants, she decided on a silk tank-short set and a long cardigan. 

Ruck escorted her down to the kitchen where Jake was aerating one of their favorite red wines. She sidled up behind him and wrapped her arms around his narrow waist as he poured the last bit of the bottle into the decanter. She placed a few kisses along his spine, and then moved to stand beside him. She rested her palms on the counter as she patiently waited. Finally, he slid a glass in front of her.

Her lips curved into a soft smile. “Thank you.” She rocked onto her tiptoes to kiss him. Jake turned toward her, snaking his arm around her waist and pulling her to him. A moan escaped her as he licked into her mouth. “You were sipping while you poured!” she teased as they parted. 

He grinned, and then placed a kiss in the center of her forehead before he snagged his glass and headed back outside. “I should check the grill.” He sniggered as he walked away.

While he was grilling and sautéing, she wandered over to the fireplace. It was one of her favorite renovation projects in their home. She returned the smoke-stained, white-washed brick to its former glory.

Wine in one hand, she shuffled logs from the woodpile to the hearth, stacking them in the perfect formation. One match and a handful of fire-starter later, flames began to creep along the ridges of the logs. The wood began to char as the heat bled into the cracks.

The sun was beginning to set and it was going to be the perfect night. Cool enough the flames and a sweater provided an extra warmth, but warm enough not to be wholly dependent on the fire.

Mrs. Seresin poked and prodded logs, moving them to prolong the burn. Ruck sat just out of range of jumping embers and supervised as she worked.

Soon after the fire was blazing, Jake summoned his wife to the dinner table. Her chair was pulled out, and then he stood behind and pushed it in as she sat. She looked up at him and he bent over her to give him a thank-you kiss. 

Jake was no slouch in the kitchen, especially the outdoor kitchen. Her mouth watered as she looked at the spread on the table—fried okra, garlic parmesan crusted carrots and a quick-and-dirty smoked brisket that he had come to perfect over years sans smoker. 

“Oh! One more thing.” He jumped up and jogged over to the grill. She spied the wine bottle and topped off hers and his glasses while she waited. Finally, he came back over with a single-serve baking dish. 

The minute he sat the container down, she knew what it was. She smiled as he pulled the lid off to reveal crispy, bubbly golden macaroni and cheese. 

Jake took his seat beside her and began to fill her plate. As he filled his own, she moved her chair so they were angled toward each other and their plates touched. 

She watched Jake until he was finished and looked at her. “I hope this is helping your week end on a high note.” He gave his signature smile. 

It was infectious, and she couldn’t help but respond with a grin. “Mhmm, feed me some mac and cheese, and we’ll find out.” Jake stabbed a few cavatappi and fed them to her. She closed her eyes as she chewed, enjoying the buttery, salty combination that coated the noodles. They fed each other bites of brisket, okra and mac and cheese until their plates were empty. Never forgotten, Ruck got his own cubed piece of meat to enjoy. 

Jake shooed her away as he cleaned up after dinner, so she wandered back over to tend to the fireplace. The flames crackled as the charred wood crumbled into white ash, collecting in the hearth. She stared into the flames and nudged the embers with the poker.

“Might as well throw at least one more log on.” She turned to find Jake with another bottle of wine, refilling their glasses. He took a swig of his drink and then wandered to the logpile. He sidled up beside her to position the log among the embers. Once his hands were empty, he snaked them around her waist as he stood behind her and his lips met her temple. She closed her eyes and enjoyed his embrace. She hummed as his lips found her jaw and then her neck.

She pressed herself against him as he continued to kiss whatever bare skin he could reach. Using his chin and nose, he nudged her sweater off her shoulders to expose more. She obliged him, helping slack the fabric to rest in the crooks of her arms.

Her backside pressed against his crotch, which made him groan. His hands found their way to the waistband of her shorts. He practically growled as his fingers dipped to her bare pussy. “Before I go anything further, how exactly did you see the rest of the evening going?” The fire danced as she stared into it. They swayed ever so slightly while Jake ghosted circles on her pubic mound and peppered kisses on her neck as he awaited a decision.

A moan dropped from her mouth as he kissed her in just the right spot. She spun in his arms to face him and forced his hands to shift to her rear. Tucked under her sweater, one of his thumbs absentmindedly stroked her “good girl” tattoo. Her arms coiled around his waist as they stared at one another. 

“Well,” she began, “I was thinking I could sip wine on the couch while you ate me out.” Jake groaned and felt himself grow harder at the thought. “Or,” she continued, “it could be cathartic if you fucked me doggystyle over the back of the couch.” His breath caught in his throat. Her lip quirked ever so slightly at his reaction.

“Mmmm, I should’ve chosen white wine in case of spills.” Jake was shocked he was able to say his statement with a straight face. However, he did allow himself to look down where they were pressed chest-to-chest. 

The swells of her cleavage gave him thoughts of his cock between her tits… He needed to focus. “So my takeaway is, at some point, we should end up naked,” he clarified.

“Mhmm, yes.” Pushing onto the balls of her feet, she cupped his face as she kissed him. Jake practically melted into her. 

Her lips still on his, he followed her over to the outdoor sectional. Only then she broke the kiss to push him down and straddle his lap. His hands were immediately back under her sweater on her ass, squeezing and kneading. Meanwhile, Mrs. Seresin ground herself into his lap.

They continued to make out and she stealthily began to push his sweats down until his cock popped out. He groaned as the smooth silk of her shorts rubbed against him. She smiled as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. 

Unable to help herself, she positioned him between her pussy and her shorts, which allowed her to slide along his length. Jake felt her wetness. “Fuck.” He hissed as he leaned back, resting his head against the sofa and looking at her with hooded eyes. 

A smirk grazed her features. Without a word, she slipped off his lap. Jake groaned again, this time, at the loss of her body heat. He watched as she gathered the open wine bottle and their glasses. She handed him his glass. “Let’s drink some wine and enjoy the fire.” She kept Jake’s gaze as she took a sip from her glass.

Then she shimmied out her shorts and sweater. Jake helped her as she climbed into his lap. This time, her back to his chest. While his free hand came to rest on her lower belly, her free hand guided his cock into her heat. Jake’s head lolled back again as he reminded himself to take deep breaths. Nonchalantly, she sipped her wine as they shifted until they were both comfortable. 

Jake’s rough fingertips lazily swirled patterns on the exposed skin from her belly button to her cleft. Every now and then, he’d pick up his chin from her shoulder and trail kisses there. Mrs. Seresin was content as they watched the flames lick the inside of the chimney and the smoke tangle with the growing twilight. “The fire is getting low,” she said as she hopped off his lap. 

“Come back!” Jake whined and extended a hand in her direction. Realizing his begging was for naught, he leaned forward, tucking himself back in his sweats and setting his now empty wine glass on the table. Elbows on his knees and chin on his palms, he watched her tend the fire. Of course, Ruck was at her feet. Not in the way but close in case of emergency.

Happy with the fire, she turned to see him watching her. Her shoulders slumped a little and she pouted her lips. “Is the fun over?” She finished her wine as she came back to the table and filled both their glasses. 

“Not at all.” Jake leaned back with his hands laced behind his head. His half-hard cock glaringly obvious. “It’s a little chilly without you keeping me warm.” She grinned into her wine glass.

After setting her cup down, she ventured around the back of the couch behind him. Leaning down, she kissed the shell of his ear as her hands glided down his chest to his waistband. He closed his eyes as her fingers dipped into his pants. Meanwhile, she alternated between nipping and sucking his ear and neck.

Now he was at full mast. Legs spread wide to allow her the most room to work. One hand played with his balls, while the other ghosted along his shaft and around the head of his cock. Jake felt his muscles tightening more and more. “Keep this up, and I’ll be coming in my pants like one of the neighbor boys seeing you in your swimsuit.” 

“Mmm, could you not mention the neighbors right now.” She tugged his earlobe with her teeth. His chuckle turned into a moan. She continued to tease him, bringing him closer and closer to the edge. 

“Shouldn’t I be the one edging you?” he stammered out. 

She planted a wet kiss on his neck. “But it’s way more relaxing, and fun, for me this way,” she explained. His only response was to moan as she touched him just right. One more move and he was done, so to prolong him, she recoiled.

Jake almost came off the sectional. He looked over his shoulder to see her, cleavage pushed up just right in her silk tank, chin on her fists, looking at him. “Why don’t we play out that second scenario?” She winked. 

His million-dollar smile appeared as he leapt out of his seat. Their gazes stayed locked as he rounded the sofa. He watched in awe as she grabbed the bottom hem of her tank and pulled it over her head.

Seeing her naked never ceased to amaze Jake. She leaned against the couch back, arms spread to support her, and waited until he was standing directly in front of her. “You’re wearing too much clothing,” she told him, running her knuckle from his belly button to the waistband of his pants. 

“Turn around,” he commanded, never breaking eye contact. There was a split second she thought about disobeying but decided otherwise. Quickly, Jake discarded his pants and on his way back up, he kissed a trail from the round of her ass to her neck. 

Her elbows resting on the couch, she looked at him over her shoulder. His lips finally met hers, and his hands came to rest on either side of her, caging her in. She pushed against him as they continued to make out. He knew she was getting impatient. He smiled into their kiss, and she tugged on his lip. “Hey, now!” he teased.

She did it again and pressed against him again. “Will you fuck me, please?” Jake’s smile grew wider, and he looked into her doe-eyes. She wiggled against him again, and he grunted in response. 

“Since you asked so nicely…” Before she could reply, he buried himself in her to the hilt. A gasp got caught in her throat, and Jake covered her open mouth with his while his hand found its way to her neck. 

Zero hesitation, he immediately began a steady pace. He kissed her lips one more time before directing her to bend further over the couch. She melted into the cushion, pushing up onto her toes as Jake’s hands moved to her hips. As his pace picked up, a hand eventually came to the back of her neck, pushing her further into the sofa. 

Enjoying the manhandling, she was pliant in his hands. Her whimpers and moans kept him going. Soon, the only tension in her body were her walls squeezing him. “Fuck,” he groaned out as he continued pounding into her. It was total bliss for them both as he felt her juices dripping down his balls.

Jake’s voice began to strain. “Where do you want me to come, baby?” Her answer was barely coherent and a smirk crossed his features—he’d poke fun about fucking her speechless another time. 

Ready, he slowed as he felt himself beginning to spasm. He always enjoyed watching where they connected and the oozing white ring that formed as he continued to fuck her until he was soft. Slowly, he pulled out. One hand still resting on her hip, he used his free one to catch any fallout. 

Bottom lip tucked behind his teeth, he smeared his cum back on her swollen pussy. Her sounds spurring him on, he popped two fingers into her and stroked her G spot. “Ohmygod.” It came out as one word and her legs kicked off the ground. Jake caught her thigh to hold her steady as he continued to finger fuck her.

She supported herself on her elbows as she tried to look back at him. Jake leaned over to give her the sweetest kiss while his fingers were buried inside her. “Don’t. Stop,” she said between strokes.

“Yes, that’s it, baby,” Jake cooed. He was also enjoying her squeezing his fingers. So much so, his cock was on the rise. 

She drawled his name and said, “I’m so close.”

“Good thing cum makes the best lube.” She gasped and arched her back as he plunged back into her. He slipped a big hand between her and the couch, and pressed on her lower belly. Almost immediately she began to flutter around him. Jake held her steady as her toes curled and she moaned, lacing her hands together behind her head. Her face buried into the cushions.

Carefully, he untangled himself and unfurled her onto the couch. She gladly stretched out with an arm over her face. Jake leaned over the back of the coach and watched in awe. Finally, he moved to put his pants back on. Then he sat her up and helped her back into her silk set. 

Wine glasses full, he rejoined her on the couch. She cuddled into his side. “Cheers.” She held up her glass. Jake gently touched his to hers, and they drank.

“Was that a good way to end the week?”

She burst into laughter. Jake immediately bore a confused expression. “Good? Are you kidding me?” His expression morphed to match hers. “It was excellent.” She captured his chin between her thumb and forefinger, holding him for a kiss. When she let him go, she grabbed his arm to read his watch. He observed her. “We have a few hours left to make this week end on an even higher note.” 

“What do you have in mind?” He was smirking at her. She licked her lips as she looked at him. He could tell the wheels were turning. 

She slipped off the couch, placing her wine glass on the table. “Meet me in the outdoor shower in five.” She pulled her shirt back over her head, and then she turned to look at Jake over her shoulder. She was silhouetted by the firelight. “Then maybe we can go for a night swim.” It was more of a statement than a question as she strutted away. 

Enjoying the show, Jake stayed put and watched her until she was out of sight. Then he looked into the sky, thanked his lucky stars, finished his wine and followed her.

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[thesleepyfable]

I completed Siren's Rest and just wanna share my thoughts.

TLRD: A nice edition to what I consider to be 2024's sleeper hit.

Spoilers below:

So, I was wrong with Mhairi being Rennick's child. It was obvious she was related to someone, but guessed Rennick only to be told I was wrong about 10 minutes into the game and that he wasn't even supposed to be on Beira. Makes sense why he's such a grump and hates everyone and everything within a 5 foot radius.

Brodie was the obvious second choice due to the diving aspect, and it was nice to hear his voice again, even if his cadence is off (it's intentional). Like, there's no love in what he's telling his daughter which should be reassurance.

There's a lot to explore in the early stages of the DLC. So much so, that I know I've missed things that other's haven't, which will require another playthrough. I found Scooby's corpse whilst other's completely missed him. Apprently Caz's body can be found, but I never saw him. No Roy, Gibbo, Brodie or Finlay, either. Sad times.

Rob and Hans are sweet editions. Hans does vanish in the second half of the game, but you can tell these three are friends. It makes sense not to have a human villain this time because the DLC is roughly only over an hour and a half long. Nice fake out with me believing Rob had been taken by The Shape. Yes. It's still alive. Yes, it stalks you in the near pitch black dark of the sea in the final few minutes of the game where you can barely see anything, and your only light-source has to be a makeshift distraction. Yes, I died a lot. Yes, I think Mhairi is infected the same way Caz was, mentally and not physically. Before The Shape does arrive, though, she's clearly suffering from some form of oxygen poisoning from Marine Control.

Someone did survive the original game. No, it wasn't Davros like so many thought, but knowing someone escaped does leave a bittersweet moment in the story.

A lot of the early game focuses on background characters or characters we've never even heard of. Muir and Innes are mentioned, but maybe because I love the original cast, I wish they were talked about more or even spotted. Whislt Caz can apparently be found, in my playthrough, he was never mentioned. Honestly, it's odd when you realise how big he is as a character in the game's universe. A former boxer who beat someone to a bloody pulp, then ran away to an oil rig to avoid charges, only to die there? That would be huge press coverage.

Edit: So, it's not Caz. The body myself and others thought was Caz is actually an unnamed crew member who had Finlay's lighter she lost. Being realistic, Caz's body would have been obliterated from the blast.

It's very discombobulating, and you'll get lost very quickly once inside the rig. There's also quite a bit of backtracking if you go exploring if you want to find all the bodies and collectables. The torch doesn't guide you as much as it did for Caz. Beria has been torn apart, and you'll be swimming through corridors on their side, or you'll be standing in an air pocket on the ceiling. Got slightly sick from it, but that's a me problem and not the game.

This gonna sound stupid of me, but in Chapter 3, I died to The Shape twice and never noticed. I thought debris had fallen on me, and I missed a quick-time event. There's no cutscene announcing its arrival. Mhairi does tell Rob something's wrong, and it does chase you into a small blurb in time where Mhairi finds herself on an empty rig before the events of the game in chapter 2, but in chapter 3, it's just there, and Mhairi doesn't make a passing comment. It also doesn't help that it's very dark, and The Shape is interested in the flares that you need to see.

The ending was heartbreaking. You can either chose to drown or leave this Shape-like illusion/drowning dream where Rob has rescued you. Can the Chinese Room for once have a happy ending game? Please?

Seeing the ghosts of the crew was eerie. It's like the ending of Titanic, but unsettling. The way they're all just standing there, not moving. Still not Caz or Roy, though.

Overall, I'd give this an 8/10. Can't wait to see what they'll do next. Please have Cait be the protagonist of the next DLC or sequel.

Edited: Changed the rating from a 7 to an 8. Played again now that the hype has died down and realised I did not take my time at all with this DLC, finding the exploring in the early much more relaxing. Whilst some things still stand, the discombobulation quickly vanished, and I was able to pass The Shape without dying over 10 times to it. Hooray!

[callsign-arson]

Cheers for Sorrows 🍻

(This is my first tumblr post so don't bombard me with backlash. Thank youuuu)

Content warn: simonriley!fanfic, swearing, drinking, depressing shit & suicidal conv, little fluff, (I promise there'll be more spice next time)

Your job was exhausting. Hours of painstaching exercises, one wrong decision that leads to punishemmt. And that was all just a test for the battlefield, one wrong decision that could be lethal. So imagine how relieving it was to go home for leave after two years. The habits and routines stick unfortunately. Two weeks after settling in, the early morning runs, still sleeping like shit, etc.

It was later at night, you'd been off working overtime at a sidejob since the army didn't pay well enough. It was raining down hard, your hands clutching the umbrella which shielded you from the constant attack.

Halfway up to the second floor of your apartment building, you nearly fell over someone. A large man in a skull print balaclava hunched over on the steps. He gazed up miserably, the bottom of the mask pulled up enough to accommodate a half burnt cigarette in his lips. He didn't seem to care about the storm battering down on him.

Then my eyes landed on the bouquette on the step beside him. Peonies. Not roses. The wrapping and flowers were ruined, like they took a beating, anger taking out on them.

"D'you wan' 'em.? Imma jus' toss 'em out otherwise." His voice was deep, the sound of tire crunching over gravel.

"Sure, thanks. Was it a break up?"

"Yup. Came 'ome from leave, wan'ed to surprise 'er. Thought someone was waiting for me back 'ome, guess no'ne can wait forever.."

"I'm sorry. That always hurts, every single time. I got home from leave a bit ago too. Wasn't expecting anyone there."

Something crawled into his eyes, as if realization of what you'd just told him sunk in and he was smiling around his cig.

"Could smell it."

Excuse me?

"You've got the style for it. Not too girly, no' fancy enou' to be a rich bloke, not super comfey. You've go' the energy fo' it too. If you go' rid o' the umbrella, could even be in the marines. Don' give a shite about rain."

He studied you for a moment, his eyes sliding up and down your frame, consuming the details. He probably noticed the same that you noticed about him - signs of military training and PTSD. His eyes met yours and he swiped his thumb over the dark circle beneath one. "Them too."

"Hm. Do you wanna come in with me? We could drink to sorrows?" I chuckle, but not from amusement, from relation and pity. For both me and him.

Something else glinted in his eyes, as if contemplating. Going into some stranger's place for a drink? He had nothing to lose if she turned out to be a literal backstabbing bitch.

"Sure.” he said with a shrug, taking another drag of his cigarette, and then he dropped it on the steps, extinguishing it with his boot before standing up with the instinctual motion of lowering his mask.

He followed you up the steps to the second floor and down the hallway, bringing your keys out from your pocket and clicking the lock open. His dim eyes gazed around the place, inspecting and collecting what type of person you could be just by what state you lived in.

You took your boots off, then your jacket, putting them away in the rack. You went towards the kitchen, casually switching out your slightly damp shirt for a hoodie meanwhile. Setting the ruined bouquette on the island, you reached up on your tippy toes to reach a high cupbaord, dragging a few brands of whiskey and rum from the shelf.

He leaned one hip beside you, watching with amusement how you were just a little shorter than you needed to be to reach anything higher than his head. Cute.

"Damn you must be a drinker. Got more than just Dani's."

"Dani?"

"Jack Dani'."

That got a giggle out of you. His slang and accent is charming and hypnotizing to listen to, you could get lost trying to decipher some words that naturally come out of his mouth.

"Pick your poison," you mutter, grinning. He notices the tippy toes once more as you take two glasses from another cabinet. Oh so cute

His eyes follow as you set them down on the island and he picks one of the bottle up, unscrewing it and pouring it into one. He looks at you for permission, you give the go and he fills the other.

"This place your's?" He asks.

"Not entirely. Borrowed."

"Borrowed, huh?"

"Yeah.. Sorry, kinda sounds weird to borrow an entire apartment. I mean as in, my mother has a friend who goes on trips for months and I live here while he's gone."

A simple grunt of understanding is your only response as he takes another sip.

"Who was your girlfriend.?" You urge on gently, tilting your head and swirling your glass. He meets your eyes for a few seconds, eyes working like gears shifting behind them.

"She was an artist, could drink 'eavy like you but was kinder than a' angel. Dressed with so many colours, t'was li' she was one o' her own paintin's. Guys were all over 'er, no wond' she didn' stay long fo' me."

You couldn't help compare yourself to the woman Simon was talking about. She sounded interesting, attractive enough for someone like him. I mean, he was attractive visually and so far sounded pretty cool personally too. It's not like he would date someone unattractive anyway.. no chance..

"I've had a couple boyfriends in middle school. That's it though.. suppose nobody's really that interested in me."

You earn a raised brow, sympathy and skepticism. He steps closer to you and and leans against the counter beside you, studying you beneath shaded eyes.

"Have you ever had the thought of killing yourself after a bad mission.? Or you're alone without the option of talking to anyone you actually like.? Or there is nobody you like.." You mutter, keeping your face downcast, tone low and just barely urging him to agree.

"Yes. The things I see and experience in my job are no' meant to be seen or experienced first hand by anyone." He replies directly, not wasting time creating ways of sweet talking through this topic. As if my ears were the delicate petals of the bouquette on the island, they would wither by a single brush of negativity.

"A question like tha' doesn' usually come fro' someone wit' no experience." He comments gently, stepping in front of you and cupping your cheeks with both hands. His thumbs brush across the plush skin as he stares deeply into your soft broken eyes. Venturing to be just as broken as his.

"If you don' mind, I can stay here with you and make sure you don' do nothin' to act on those thoughts, bab' girl.."

For some reason a shuddering shiver ran through you, his intense yet soft gaze, his hands tilting your face up and body hovering but not pressing yours back into the counter - it was comfortable. More than you have been in such a pitifully long time.

You leant your jaw up more than he was guiding, taking your own path and softly setting your lips on his. His mask was pulled up and it was a non-intentional target. He took that as a yes and lifted you from your feet by your waist, plopping your ass down on the edge of the marbel counter like a bag of potatoes. He rubbed your back reassuringly, your head fell to his shoulder. And everything between you felt like you knew one another far past strangers.

Were you two still strangers.? No.. Who cared really? Neither of you obviously.

[ccazimi]

Hiyahh saw that u said ur reqs are open my idea is pretty simple tbh but maybe could ya write sum abt sukuna lets reader bleach his hair to re-dye it but ends up failing horribly so he has to shave off his hair n he's js acting like a soggy cat 🫡

sorry if this didn't hit the mark! new to this haha

"I'm going to fucking kill you, woman."

You pouted from where you stood behind Sukuna as he scowled at his reflection in the mirror.

"Hey, it's not that bad..." You started nervously, trying to alleviate the situation you had created.

"Not that bad?!" Sukuna angrily interjected before you could even finish your sentence. "My head looks like an overused toothbrush."

And with uneven splotches of yellow, orange and white with short stiff strands that sat like straw after being freshly dried, the comparison was actually quite accurate. Accurate enough that you had to look away with a hand over your mouth to suppress a giggle.

"Are you laughing? Is you fucking up my hair funny to you?" He grit his teeth, irritation only growing at your tittering.

"No!" You squeaked, before stepping up to where he stood by the sink counter. "Is it really that fucked up?"

He watched you from the corners of his eyes as you lifted your hands to gently grasp a small tuft of hair sticking out. It was dry and brittle as though someone had air fried it for a bit too long. You tested its flexibility by bending it in your fingers and it gave way with a soft crunch leaving you staring at the dead hair between your fingers, and Sukuna stiffening even more. "Oh."

"Oh? Oh? Is that all you have to say for yourself?" You could practically see the steam exiting Sukuna's ears. "Give me that." He snatched the fossil of his once beautiful salmon colored hair that you'd collected and inspected it for himself. "How'd you even mess it up that bad? Were you using industrial bleach or something?"

"I don't know, I just used the old bottle of bleach I found under the sink." You mumbled. "The 'forty' brand."

"Forty?"

"It had the number forty on it."

He spun around at looked down at you incredulously, making you furrow your brows. "What, is that a bad brand or something?"

He brought his palm to his face, closing his eyes as another growl escaped his throat. "That wasn't the name of the brand, you idiot. 'Forty' is the level of the bleach"

You kept your mouth shut as he seemed to only become more livid.

"They come in volumes from weakest to strongest: ten, twenty, thirty, and forty."

He opened his eyes to glare down at you, leaving you to marinate in your guilt and feeling dumb as hell. "I'm sorry, Sukuna. Listen, I'll pay for you to get it fixed at the salon-"

He dismissed your attempts at reparation with a wave of his hand, holding up the tuft of broken hair up to your face. "You see this? There's nothing any professional can do when your hair is fucked this bad. I'm going to have to buzz it."

He watched you drop your gaze trying to hide the growing pout on your lips. Honestly, you'd really liked his hair too.

With an exasperated sigh he decided to take pity on you, trying to make you feel better in his own way. "Its fine, I'll just shave it so that it grows back fresh. Also I am never letting you near my hair again."

"Do you need any help buzzing it?"

He shot you a death glare that had you scrambling to exit the bathroom as quickly as possible.

You were laying on the couch, reading a book with Yuuji curled up on your lap when you heard the door to the bathroom open. The last few minutes were marked by the buzzing of an electric razor and you snapped your head up as Sukuna finally revealed himself to you.

He stared at you silently with his arms crossed, waiting for your commentary. "Well?"

Your first thought was that he reminded you of a lion that had its majestic mane shaven off - more so due to his demeanor rather than his appearance.

As for his appearance...

"You know I actually like the look." You said with a genuine smile. His chiseled features and sharp inky tattoos gave his face enough structure that he could actually pull off the buzzed look.

He deadpanned you, clearly skeptical of your approval.

"Look Yuuji, doesn't he look handsome?" You scratched the golden retriever's ears, prompting him to look up. Although Sukuna supposedly didn't like the puppy, Yuuji absolutely adored Sukuna from the moment he'd met him and would routinely piss himself in excitement whenever Sukuna would visit (much to Sukuna's disgust).

But Yuuji caught sight of Sukuna and growled, before laying his head back down.

You might have never seen Sukuna look so genuinely offended in his life.

"Don't mind him, he probably just needs to get a little used to your...new look." You tried to reassure Sukuna, but could barely contain your laughter at what a dirty scowl he was giving the dog.

"Let's go out for dinner tonight."

"No."

You sighed, dramatically throwing yourself on Sukuna's lap where he sat on the couch snacking on chicken katsu. "Come on, how long are you gonna keep sulking over this?"

He grabbed a pillow to throw it over your face and kept eating. "I am not sulking." He grumbled.

You fought against the pillow, finally managing to get it off and grin cheekily up at him. "You so are. Seriously, it doesn't look bad."

For the past few days Sukuna had refused to go outside, slinking around the apartment like a wet cat. His pride, his joy, his beautiful hair that he normally only trusted with high end salons had fallen at your hands, and he refused to let it go.

"Look even Yuuji's warmed up to you again."

Upon hearing his name, Yuuji got up from where he was slobbering on a chew toy and nosed Sukuna's ankle, tail wagging back and forth like a propeller. Your dog wasn't the smartest and it took him a little to be convinced that Sukuna was still his grumpy self and not some hairless replacement.

"Tsk. I don't care about your rat dog - in fact i'd rather have it not be all over me."

You chose to not mention it, knowing damn well Sukuna had perked up if even a bit when Yuuji went back to fawning over him. Instead you sat up, cozying yourself on Sukuna's lap in that way that you knew would always grab his attention.

"I'm seriously sorry I messed up your hair, okay? And you know I find you sexy with or without your pretty hair. So lets go out so I can show off to everyone how attractive my boyfriend is." You teased him on purpose, knowing that his ego would take some coddling while his hair grew back.

He rolled his eyes but you knew you were getting somewhere when he set his food down to snake his hands around your waist. "Fine. But only if we get sashimi."

"Yes!" You chirped. "Sounds good to me." You raised a hand to pet his head but he caught your wrist before you could feel his buzzed scalp under your fingertips.

"You're still not allowed to touch my hair, though."

[writingoddess1125]

Kofi Request

If you want to make request like this one check out my Kofi

Blue Waters And Flowers

Trafalgar D. Law x OCBermuta Marin

OC belongs to @stuckinthewrongworld if you want to see their work

⚠️ Warnings: ⚠️ Drugged Sex, Sex Pollen

Don't usually do OC works so I tried my best!

18+ Below

Marin rubbed the back of her neck, Quietly trudging through the unkempt brush of the jungle like island.

She hadn't expected to find this place in time before the sun set, The Heart Crew and The Brass-Knuckle Pirates had stopped at the island to restock and gather basic supplies- It was a truce of sorts- or a silent agreement due to necessity and circumstances. They had run ins with each other a fair amount before so it wasn't a surprise they would stop at the same watering hole to recover and lick their wounds.

Marin stepped over a thick root, the distant sounds of waves crashing against the shore mixing with the occasional rustling of unseen creatures.

She wasn’t entirely sure why she’d wandered off alone. Maybe it was habit, or maybe she just needed a moment of quiet- exhaling as she glanced up at the thick canopy of unknown and unique plants.

A low snap of a branch nearby made her pause, muscles tensing. Marin wasn’t naive enough to believe she was the only one out here, ducking her head through a few bushes expecting some beast she would need to warn her crew of-

However a beast wasn't exactly was greeted her.

It was Law..

The two locked eyes, Law standing there leaned against a tree trunk- face red and fisting his cock, His movements coming to a absolute halt as Marin stared at him- Then down to his exposed self, then back to his face.

"H-Huh...I see I caught you at a bad time, now if you'll excuse me-"

Marin said as politely as someone seeing a almost acquaintance in the middle of pleasing themselves.

"W-Wait!" A shrill voice leaves the man, wry foreign compared to his normal cool and collected tone- Almost urgent. Marin looked to him, raising a brow at the tone. Law seemingly realizing his tone as he awkwardly looked to the tree he was leaned against.

"C-Could Um.. You help me out?.. Please" He said in a strained tone.

"You want me to?-" Her eyes widening as she looked at Law and well- his cock that was still in his hands. This was defiantly not a moment she thought she would be seeing his, her fantasy was always the more romantic sweet side- but to hell with that it seemed.

"I-I don't know Law- I feel like this I be a bit of.. Taking advantage of the situation at hand?-" she mumbled, This immediately seeming to catch the Captain's ear- Marin not even realizing the slip up she had made.

"Please... Marin. I wouldn't ask anyone else anyway"

She bites her lip, Face bright red as she looks at him- Seeing how he looked at her, Desperate. Longing and like a man on the verge of breaking.

Walking towards him, a shy look on her face.

"Always one to help"

She whispered softly, almost like she was convincing herself this was simply good charity and not her own secret desire finally getting its chance to bloom.

Law waved her closer, Marin complying- Truthfully it seemed less embarrassing going to him then the idea of him walking over pointing at her. Which almost made her mentally giggle.

Now close by she sort of looked him over as she had no idea where to start, her face shy as she didnt know what to do first or even where to start

"W-What do I?- Um"

"For Fuck sake Marin-" He grumbled as he leaned in and kissed her, His free hand grabbing the back of her head tangling his fingers in her honeycomb hair as he pulled her close. A spark of fire seemingly lighting in her chest as she felt this, a new sort of possessive nature that seemed to take over him.

It was new?.. It was exciting? This almost animalistic way to him that was so foreign to his normal more logical ways- Marin leaned into him, a pleasantly surprised at how soft his lips were against her- paired with strong taste of mint and salt water that was almost overpowering. Her knees weak and a flush of arousal seemed to greet her immediately.

Letting him lead she couldn't help but let her arms around him. Her heart fluttering in her chest as she did so, Feeling Law pull her down rather suddenly to the ground. A surprised squeak leaving her as she was settled down on the grassy ground, Clearly his resolve breaking much faster then either of them expected expected.

He moves her to his liking on the island floor- just ahy of manhandling, Like a starved man finally getting his first meal in week's. Where Law's hands were often steady, calmly and precise he was almost- clumsy?

Pulling at her tied skirt with a wild desire as he almost drooled at seeing the exposed skin below. Eyes blown up so wide it was hard to figure out which was pupils and which were iris.

Marin blushed under his stare, how he seemed to almost just- Take her in? How he marveled at her, staring at how undone she was before him.

"Law?" Marin finally said softly, seeing how he seemed to be lost- a deeper blush going over her face as he ran his hands up her thighs enjoying the soft feeling of her skin.

"I've stared at these legs since the first moment I met you..." He mumbled, as if he hadn't expected her to hear him at all.

Marin feeling warmth wash over her whole system-

She wasnt even able to ask what he ment by that when he leaned down capturing her lips again, A warm going over her once more as the space between them seemed to lessen. Law grabbing the back of her legs in a rushed effort to wrap around him- Pulling back just enough looking at what remained from what he wanted..

What he needed-

Law saw the light ocean blue underwear- Pressing his callous thumb at her core, Hearing her whimper and the clear arousal that greeted her. A groan of desire rumbling in his chest at the sight. He had to have her.

Now

He didnt bother to strip her fully- There was no time for that now.. Moving her underwear aside as patience seemed to be lost to him, Making sure to brush against her clit though just to hear another one of those honey moans before Pressing himself between her spread legs with a face that could only be described as- Hungry? Famished if anything.

He grabbed his cock stroking it a few times for good measure as he pressed again her exposed soaked cunt, slowly guiding himself into her as he didn't want to harm his lover- however enjoying each second of seeing how her face lit up in bliss, her lashes fluttered against those flushed cheeks and how she bit her reddened lips. Oh it drove him wild.

"F-Fuck-" She whimpers out, Feeling Law settle between her legs as he held her hips close. His head rolled back as he let out a heavy sigh, Enjoying the feeling of her just wrapped around him- as well as letting her adjust to him with each inch that seemed to set the both of them alight. Before with a slight snap of his hips bottoming out, hearing the surprised moan of Marin under him-

After a moment or two he rolled his hips to test, a breathy moan leaving her lips as her eyes fluttered closed reaching up and grabbing the back of his shirt for support. A few breathy moans and pants leaving her as she laid under him, her legs wrapped around his waist like he was her anchor.

Law under typical circumstances would have liked this time with her to be much softer and more intention- However the urgency of the situation seemed to outweigh that. As he pulled back almost completely out of her before slamming himself back in-

A broken gasp leaving her as she held on for dear life, soft enchanting moans begin to leave her- Law almost swearing he could hear a siren song as he groaned, feeling each and every part of her wrapped around him. Marin looking up in a murky haze, bliss etched in each of those delicate features of hers that seemed to drive the man mad.

He leans down and captures her lips once again, Swallowing those sweet moans of hers as he fucked into her like his life depended on it- Feeling how her legs tightened around him- His boots digging into the soil below for leverage making sure he drive out each of those building sweet moans he feasted on.

Pulling away shortly to breath, Marin felt her head spin- Body burning as each smack of his hips seemed to drive her deeper in ecstasy. All she could feel was him, All she could tase was him- Each of her senses seemed to overpowered by Him and Him alone. Law lips desperate to capture her own once more, and she greeted him with such.

No words were spoken, non needed to be. Those honey moans with deep grunts breaking through their shared lips like the harsh crashes of waves against the rocky shore, the potent sound of skin on skin was the only conversation that needed to be had-

Law felt his skin was feverish, His movements already sloppy as he felt a unwanted orgasm wash threw him- buried deep in Marin. His hips still moving as a almost drugged out look clouded his eyes, moving past the point of overstimulation-

He couldn't stop.

His body wouldnt let him..

Law began to slam into her, hissing curses under his breath as he held onto her for dear life- knowing he was forcing Marin to her release as past it- Hearing that shrill cry of pleasure rip threw her, it almost making him want to cum again right then and there- Rolling his hips as he felt her coat his cock, shuttering under him as she whimpered and dug her nails into the flesh of his back.

Resting on his elbows next to her head, effectively caging her in as the two laid there- Marin looking up to him, her eyes glassing and lips parted as she felt her body was no better then putty her legs sliding down from his hips as the soft cold grass met her and felt like heaven on her scorched skin.

"I-I need more" He grunted out, His hips shuttering against Marin spent ones- Her eyes widening at the feeling. The women a whimpering mess as she felt him start up again- No stop in sight as he thrusted back into her, sweat dripping from his brow as broken pants stated to leave him again..

Damn this fucking plant-

It would be hours before they finally stopped. The two laid on the ground together staring up at the sky, still trying to recover from the rather eventful day. It took another two rounds before the male felt the effects of the pollen wear off- now both of them sore with stiff joints-

Apparently Fucking on the jungle ground didn't make the best cushioning it seemed.

"Not how I'd expect this all to go-" Law mumbled out first-

Marin at this point too damn tired to be embarrassed nodded in agreement.

"Well.. Cant say I didn't want this to happen.. However never saw it like this" Marin mumbled, this seemingly making Law chuckle under his breath.

"Next time I will be far more romantic"

Marin looked to him, a blush dusting her cheeks as she took in his words fully. "Next Time?"

Law looked to her, giving a hint of a smile on his face.

"Next Time."

A silent agreement going over the two as they laid there in the afterglow of it all.

Marin was the first to roll up after a while, Feeling the bruising already starting on her thighs as she reached forward- Grasping the bark of the closest tree to stand accidently shaking it in the process. Before a puff of sticky yellow pollen seemed to rain down on the two. Law staring at Marin as a almost sorrowful laugh left him

"FUCK!-" "fuck.."

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Soundless Siren Song Part 1

This short series shows how Ambrose from my other story "The Siren Tamer" first saved the life of a voiceless Siren and became a "protected person" among all Sirens, never to be harmed.

I know I'm going on a writing spree lately involving mers and Sirens specifically, but I have @whumpisgoodwhumpislife to partially blame (in a good way). Their angler mer series is so entertaining, and I had a random burst of inspiration because of it, so I decided to binge-write mer stuff which I'd never done before. They got me hooked.

Warnings: gravely injured beached Siren, torture, blood and severe injuries, slashed throat & severed vocal cords, rescue whump

Ambrose loved to take long leisurely walks on the beach to clear his mind and relax. He also loved collecting any seashells he found on the way, and always stopped to study and admire any marine life he stumbled upon.

He was a kind and gentle soul with a good heart -- if he ever found a starfish out of water he was the kind of man who made sure to take the time to return it to its ocean home.

Today was like every other one -- he set off on his walk at ten o'clock sharp, leaving his oceanside house to explore and bringing his collection bag with him for shells, which was securely tied to his belt.

It was a surprisingly sunny day today, but Ambrose didn't mind -- he wore a hat to protect his face from the heat, but it wasn't quite bright enough for him to feel the need to apply sunscreen.

He hummed chipperly to himself as he walked along the waterline, the small waves lapping at his boots as they crunched in the sand. He was so absorbed in his own thoughts he almost didn't notice the strange object farther up on the beach resting in the dry sands, a good distance away from the water. A large mound of ocean debris.

He didn't know what about it in particular caught his attention, but his curiosity was piqued enough that he deviated from his usual walking path to investigate.

Ambrose halted a safe distance away as he took a look at the pile of debris, half covered up by dry sand that had blown overtop it from the strong ocean winds. His mind subconsciously told him he was in danger, and he didn't like that. Not one bit. A gut feeling that something was seriously wrong with this whole situation.

Something reeked of death and decay as he cautiously inched closer, and he was pretty sure it was the seaweed wrapped around a larger object in the mound -- dried out and shriveled from being left in the sun.

Ambrose was on high alert as he circled the object, warily examining it from all angles before closing in to take a closer look. He immediately spotted what looked like a -- tail? -- poking out from beneath all the dry seaweed. Likely a dead beached dolphin then, judging from the size of it. It was hard to be sure with all the various debris piled onto the animal.

So Ambrose gave the tail a light nudge with the toe of his boot out of curiosity -- and to his complete and utter shock the thing the tail belonged to let out a quiet groan.

It was alive.

He wasn't sure what to do. Continue investigating, or abandon it to run back home in case the beached animal was of the dangerous sort.

It's an aquatic creature stranded on land and completely out of its element, he scoffed at himself. What harm could it do out of water like this?

It was a conscious effort to steel his nerves and reach out with his hands to pull the seaweed and chucks of driftwood off the poor critter trapped beneath. Maybe he could drag it back to the ocean, if it wasn't too hurt.

The first thing his search revealed was more of the tail, which had scales like a fish -- so it didn't belong to a dolphin after all. And it was pale blue in color, unlike anything he'd ever seen before. The blue was broken up by patches of bright white and red where scales were missing entirely, clearly rubbed or torn off somehow.

Then came the torso, which looked... human, surprisingly. Slender and slim, an agile figure.

Finally the head was revealed -- and Ambrose jerked back with a loud gasp of shock, dropping the piece of wood he'd been picking up to uncover the head.

There, right in front of him, was the face and head of a human woman -- barely identifiable past all the blood and gashes ripped open across her face and body. And now that she was fully uncovered, Ambrose could see that her sea-green hair was matted with drying blood, and her gills -- actual gills -- were crusted in blood as well, rough sand sticking to them and worked deep into the gill flaps.

Siren. The word came to him like a flare in the dark. He'd seen many paintings depicting the dangerous singers of the sea, who could lure men to their deaths with their voices alone. Not to be mistaken for mermaids, their distant relatives with flashy colors and playful personalities.

No, Sirens were lethal. To be avoided at all costs.

And yet... there was one stranded in the sand at Ambrose's feet, unmoving aside from the rattling, shallow breaths she took -- her skin and scales drying in the sun and curling like heated paper would. Helpless. Defenseless. Injured badly.

The woman's eyes were closed, and she was laying on her front with webbed hands splayed out on either side of her as if she'd been trying desperately to heave herself up out of the debris and drag herself back to water.

Ambrose felt a twinge of pity for the unfortunate creature -- perhaps she had gotten too close to a boat and got sliced up by propeller blades like many other forms of marine life frequently were.

Cautiously, he used a boot to press into her side and roll her over -- and he was absolutely mortified by what he found.

The Siren snapped fully awake at the movement, her mouth opening in a soundless scream of pain that was no more than a wheezing breath of air from damaged lungs. Her whole front was shredded -- but not in the ragged ways a boat propeller would leave. No, her wounds looked man-made -- clean and precise and vicious. As if she'd been tortured, long lacerations cut open across her torso and tail.

The Siren's throat had clearly been slashed, a visible line of red crusted around her neck like a collar. And Ambrose realized that's why she hadn't sung her song yet to subdue him -- because she couldn't. She literally couldn't. Her vocal cords had been cut by someone who knew what they were doing, before they dumped her here on the beach to dry up in the sun and die a horrible, agonizing death.

Someone must have had a seriously deep grudge against Sirens to want to make one suffer so greatly and prolong its death to cause more pain. Someone hated this woman's kind with a passion.

The Siren peered dizzily up at Ambrose with wide, panicked eyes full of unbridled terror, that were slightly disoriented from the blood loss -- the sand beneath where she'd been laying a second earlier was thoroughly stained red. She'd been trapped here and bleeding for awhile now.

Ambrose was greatly afraid of what the Siren could do to him if he got too close, especially after catching a glimpse of her razor-sharp teeth, but he ended up crouching in the sand next to her, assessing the damage.

It was a nauseating sight. The Siren's scales were completely dried out and flaky, and the open injuries along her body were all stuffed with coarse sand working deep into her flesh. It had to be excruciating, and Ambrose winced sympathetically.

Blood snaked from the corner of the Siren's mouth, and more blood had dried around her nose, blending in with various mottled bruises on her jaw and cheekbones from blunt force impacts.

The woman's mouth opened and closed a few times like she was trying to speak, to beg for mercy, but only short rasps of air left her for every word she tried to form, her sand-crusted gills stiff and rigid even with the movement of her neck.

Ambrose looked around the beach for anyone passing by, but he was utterly alone. No witnesses. Good. He'd made up his mind. He couldn't leave the Siren here to die a long and agonizing death, bloodied and beaten and left to the scorching sun. Despite how dangerous the creature was, she didn't pose much of a threat in this state, injured enough that even breathing looked like an effort for her.

Ambrose could bring her to water, maybe flush her wounds of sand and debris, and then leave her on her own, he figured. That way he was still helping the Siren, but leaving the area before she could heal enough to attack him. A safe choice.

But perhaps his kind heart would be the death of him, another part of him said. The Siren could turn on him, and he had no doubt that she would win if it came to a fight. Sirens were powerful, and dangerous. There was a reason sailors went to great lengths to avoid their territories.

But he had to try. Try to help. He'd have a guilty conscience for months if he didn't at least offer the smallest assistance to the half-dead Siren.

So, he scanned around for anything useful he could use to move the woman, settling for grabbing a large flat piece of driftwood that had previously been pinning the Siren's tail down. He laid it down next to her, and as gently as he could rolled her limp body onto it.

The creature let out a pitiful soundless scream of pain as she flopped on her front onto the wood, her mouth gaped open and eyes huge with a mix of panic and terror.

The wood was only big enough to support her torso, and her tail was left dragging in the sand as Ambrose started using the wood as a sled to pull the Siren along with him as he headed back to his house.

His dwelling was a building raised on stilts located right at the oceanside, and he knew of a small circular cove nearby he could put the Siren in that would be protected from any big waves coming in. It was the best he could think of.

It was hard going as Ambrose dragged his living cargo across the beach for a quarter mile, and he was sweating profusely from the effort by the time he reached the edge of the cove surrounded by rocks. He'd have to continue on foot to reach the water.

So Ambrose went over and slid an arm under the Siren's back, and another under her dolphin-like tail, picking her up off the makeshift sled and holding her to his chest as he began picking his way over the rocks to reach the pool below.

The poor creature flinched and winced every time Ambrose took a step, especially when the rocks shifted under his feet and jarred her raw wounds.

"Almost there," Ambrose murmured as he reached the bottom of the slope leading down to the closed-off cove. He walked to the edge, leaning down and carefully setting the Siren down with her body submerged in the water, so that only her head was above it.

The water around her immediately turned pink as some of the blood washed from her scales.

"I'll be right back," Ambrose said, and ran off to his house, returning with a basic medical care kit he threw together. He'd never treated an aquatic creature before -- he was only guessing at what might help.

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