#someone tie me to the fucking mast

[gothimp]

hits my pen once and hears the siren call of my hair shears like odysseus in the messina strait

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, dubcon, coercion, bullying

fem reader

Your bully says he’s always been curious about what it’s like to fuck a geeky good girl like you—and that he’ll leave you if you let him have a taste.

You knew he was probably mostly joking when he offered… but you were sick and tired and perhaps a little desperate for the chance of him finally leaving you alone—so you balled your fists within his shirt, dragged him inside an empty classroom, and told him he could do whatever he wanted.

You don’t know who was more surprised.

He never knew you to be so brazen—but it’s not like you’re some blushing virgin, either.

You have experience. However, most of that experience is with nicer guys… not someone like him…

It’s not like you expected him to go easy on you, but still…

You bruise against the desk he has you bent over on—dewy-faced and panting, lying cheek-down in your own drool as he fucks full-chested moans right out of you. He snickers when your thighs shake, whistling with a grin when feeling your tight cunt flutter around him—slick dripping to the floor in a little puddle.

“You’re so wet it’s embarrassing.” He laughs.

He’s got your arms tussled behind your back, using your shirt as bindings—having balled your skirt up around your waist in two tight fists, knuckles white while using it to keep you still as he pounds into you with a mean snap of his hips. 

Your heart drops when you hear a rip. A second time when, you feel his movements still, and a thick warmth starts to fill you.

“Ah—fuck—don’t squeeze so tight—I’m ‘bout to—” He grunts, but it’s already too late once he pulls out.

Panting heavily as his cock drips with the last drop—hunched over—his eyes fall to your glossy cunt, half-mast while staring at the way his cum slowly leaks out of the still-fluttering little hole. 

He feels a cute-aggressive urge to slap it but doesn’t want to get his hand all sticky.

He pulls his pants up instead, only bothering to button his shirt up halfway, tie hanging loosely around his neck. Anyone with eyes could guess what he’d been doing with his sweaty hair and that flushed look on his face.

And yet he starts leaving without a care or a word. 

Already halfway out the door before you get your wits back.

“No—wait!” You warble, unknotting your sleeves to wrap your shirt around you. “You can’t leave me like this—my skirt…” You hold the tattered piece up for him to see, showing him the tear he’d made, rendering it unwearable.

His hand is still on the doorknob, only bothering to acknowledge you with a jaded look over his shoulder. “How’s that my problem?”

Your brows cinch that pitiful way it always does. That cute way that has his gut bubble and fizz. “Please…” You plead, and it’s almost enough to make his cock perk up again. “Just bring me a skirt from lost and found… please?”

He sighs—the door at his back as he leans against it with arms folded upon his chest. “Tch—and what's in it for me?”

You nibble your lip in thought—but you already know the answer. 

“I’ll be better at it next time—just... please?”

“Hm…” He hums in thought, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips, tugged as if your words had pulled it with string. “Wait here, I’ll be back.”

The door closed with a click, and you were left in the classroom alone.

A few minutes passed. You doubted his return. 

You could always call a friend… but you didn’t want to get anyone into any trouble—calling them when they’re in class. Also, how would you even explain it to them? What type of person skips class to have sex in an empty classroom? Not to mention, they’d ask who you’d done it with—and there was just no way you could tell them. It’d be too embarrassing—you might just die—and if anyone else ever found out, he’d more likely kill you himself.

Well… suppose you could always make the run to Lost and Found yourself. The hallways should be mostly empty at this hour, but there’s really no guarantee. 

In the end, the thought of someone catching you in cum-soaked panties makes you hold onto all hope that your bully would return as he’d said.

And fifteen minutes later, he does. Black school skirt in one hand and strawberry milk in the other. Seemed he’d taken the time to stop at a vending machine.

But you don’t care. Breathing out a sigh of relief—gratitude on your lips as you leap over to him. “Thank you—” 

You eagerly accept the skirt—putting it on just as quickly.

He leans back against the door again, sipping his carton while watching you fall still with dismay. Humored at the pout that takes your lips as you look up at him with those pitiful doe-eyes.

“This is too short…”

He hides his smile with a tilt of his head. “Oh?” He grabs his jaw and pretends to assess your bottom half with focus. “Hmm… turn around, lemme see.”

You listen trustingly—as though you actually believe he cares. It almost makes him laugh out loud at how fucking gullible you are. But he keeps his act tight. Humming at the sight of the skirt only barely covering the crease of your cute ass.

“You’re right—something’s off.” He admits. 

You look back at him just in time to see his smirk before he grabs you. 

Keeping you still with an arm wrapped around your waist, he tips you over and grabs your panties—pulling them despite your body's protests as you wiggle in his hold. You cry as the fabric wedges up between your asscheeks, kicking your legs behind you until feeling it rip.

“There you go…” He coos while letting go of you, twirling the torn string in his hand. “Now it fits perfectly.”

He chuckles at the pretty tears clumped upon your lashes as you look at him with your lip tucked between your teeth until you finally get the grit to say what’s on the tip of your tongue.

“You’re an asshole.”

He sneers with a smile and bags your panties in his pocket—then turns around and opens the door. Leaving you worse off than before.

“Never said otherwise, buttercup.”

BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Shigaraki, Hawks, Shinso, Kirishima

JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Toji

DS – Akaza, Sanemi

HQ – Kuro, Miya twins

[dark-elf-writes]

Percy: Why couldn’t you find someone normal like Annabeth?

Tsuna: Didn’t you tell me Annabeth once had you tie her to the mast of a ship so she could listen to a murder song and figure out her fatal flaw?

Percy: I’m sorry trying to find out you biggest weakness is a far cry from ENDING THE FUCKING WORLD

Tsuna: She told a goddess to go fuck herself to her face.

Percy: I know ☺️ isn’t she the best?

Tsuna: I don’t even know where to start.

[dystopiandramaqueen]

My biggest barrier to finishing fandom stuff.

Fic, vids...

Is that I get all of the content in front of me, right? And I just sit there looking at it... and I wake up days later. Like- when you lay their arc out without interruption it is the most epic romance I have ever fucking seen. EVER. It's like staring at the sun, it's too powerful, my human brain can't handle it.

It's like if I was trying to make a sleeping potion and kept knocking myself unconscious with it

I need a like- robot- or someone who hasn't seen the show to edit for me. So I can like- tell them what to use and how. Like when Odysseus made his men tie him to the ship's mast bc he knew he couldn't handle the Siren's song.

Or like Medusa- how if you look in her eyes you turn to Stone- that's what Osblaine does to me and it happens fucking over and over I'm like "OMG yaknow if I put THESE clips with THIS song..."

*blacks out*

Catatonic in front of computer murmuring to myself about how his EVERY MOVE has been FOR HER the ENTIRE FUCKING TIME.

HELP.

[whisperthatruns]

Self-Portrait as Last Pawn Shop in New Jersey

Lately I have not been feeling myself. I walk around like a figure missing its ground. I see a braid of smoke a hand passes through and envy hands, how smoke stays on skin, the faint hairs of a cheek a hand brushes against. Used to be enough to be the blown engine of a VW outside of Durango, whiskey we killed watching our father die, a bad painting I loved because our mother loved bad paintings, without irony. Lead sinkers in the gray bar of self--- There! I’d say, strapped to the mast of a tall ship in a Turner painting, or a grip dangling from the center pole of a circus tent above a troupe of dachshunds trying to find the tiny pedals of tricycles. I collected myself like I was vying to be the last pawn shop in New Jersey. Now I am not even a whir of gnats on a dirt road, a threadbare cloud on a ridgeline, the steam riding off an old man stepping out of a sauna. Days nothing seems to tie me to me. The more I live, the more the rucksack lightens, the more I can’t find myself in the mirror of the world, and roam storefronts as if I have misplaced myself. When I was a kid, I used to keep a Pringles can filled with volcano rocks someone once sold as Apache Tears, one weird ass way of marketing pain. Gone now, as the name of the boy I bailed out for stealing CDs from Walmart, for the girl he crushed on. Which is not really a crime I explained to the cops. The girl loved Stevie Nicks so much I found her stoned under blackberry bramble, listening to “Landslide” on a Walkman. Perhaps it matters to say they were Apache or Pueblo, Inde or Kewa, that they were minor thieves flung far from home. Perhaps all they wanted was the ground inside each other. But even as I say Landslide, Walkman, I feel the scree of words, the pawn shop emptying out. The things that made me are ether now, as clear as those who went and died and took what mattered---bodies, a joke, a late meal that wove itself into morning--- as if they had packed for the afterlife. And empty and whole and empty, the air inside me tastes like leaving, and leaving tastes like rain that never comes. Which I love like breath on a window, like someone else drawing a heart, a face a pleasure in the taking. No wonder, I am marveling over the demo crew slaying each other: Fuck wad, lug nut, waste of skin---Cuts, we used to call them, nicking wing, heel, gutting into laughter, then, tender tender, as one with angels or dogs, where the wound is transom. The words hold them to the ground, and I am whatever hovers when they go.

James Hoch, Last Pawn Shop in New Jersey (Louisiana State University Press, 2022)

[sinfulspencer]

PLEASE write something with

“ do you touch yourself at night, thinking of me? “

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Rating: mature (smut, 18+, minors DNI!)

Warnings: dom/sub undertones (SoftDom!Spencer, Sub!Reader), oral sex (female receiving)

Words: 2.4k

A.N.: I mean... that’s always a nice sentence starter for a nsfw work ;) I also can’t stop writing about Spencer going down on someone because I bet he’d be so fucking good, like incredibly good. (Sorry if it's not that long but I felt like this would've been much better than, you know, sex.)

TAGLIST FORM.

You’ve lost track of time, your eyes closed as your body is completely controlled by the pleasure you’re bringing yourself. Spencer was supposed to come home at least an hour ago and since you were bored, you thought you could find a way to pass the time without wandering inside the kitchen to eat dinner you prepared for your boyfriend.

Masturbating is always a good hobby, especially if it involves your brain replaying all the nights you’ve spent with Spencer in the last few weeks.

Your relationship is new and you know you’re in the honeymoon phase, the kind of phase where you and Spencer can’t keep your hands off each other. None of you is complaining, because spending time with each other under the sheets allows you both to discover what the other likes, how the other wants to be touched and how to drive the other wild.

Tonight you decided to wait for him awake, knowing he’d come home extremely hungry, but the time has passed. Your dinner is cold and you’re bored.

Well, you were bored.

Now you’re not anymore, as you lay in bed with your eyes closed and your back arched.

You remember the gentle sound of Spencer’s whimper against your mouth, the way his hands always find a way up to your hair to tug on it or on your hip, dipping his fingers into the soft skin of your waist to leave handprints all over you.

You think about how his body fits perfectly on top and underneath you, how his mouth attacks your neck with bites and kitten licks, how he always knows how to push you closer and closer to the edge.

How he always gives you what you need the most.

Spencer is a caring boyfriend outside of the bedroom.

Inside, he’s even more caring – but also so incredibly demanding.

You love to see how Spencer changes with you and with his friends, how he presents as a loving and sweet boyfriend with adorable words and sweet nothings whispered in your ear when in reality he always takes you from behind, squeezing your throat with his big hands, owning you and driving you wild, telling you everything he wants to do to you before actually doing them.

His duality is interesting.

And it’s one of the things that made you fall in love with him.

Watching him go from the cutest guy alive to the hottest man ready to tie you to the bed and leave you panting, moaning and begging him to land a finger on your body.

You can feel yourself heat up at the thought of his hands now pushing you down against the bed, his mouth devouring you like a starved animal – which is exactly what you need right now.

For now, those images in your brain will do.

You hope he comes home soon, because his dinner won’t be food.

Using your free hand to slip your fingers underneath your shirt, you tease your right nipple by pinching it and twisting it while imagining it’s not your fingers, but his. Spencer knows that your nipples are pretty sensitive and he always feels the need to suck on them, bite them because he loves how your body reacts to his actions.

You arch your back at the stabbing pleasure running through you, your thumb pressing over your clit before massaging it with the tip of your finger. You miss him so much, it’s almost embarrassing how turned on you are by just a few thoughts – and his scent all over the bed sheets.

His bedroom is filled with your whimpers.

“Oh Spencer... Fuck.”

Your hands are gripping the sheets as you grind against your own hand, your index slipping inside of you. You know you shouldn’t masturbate on your boyfriend’s bed but it’s not the first time you have his hands on you right there – so what’s the problem?

It feels dirty, but extremely freeing.

You insert another finger inside of yourself, an obscene moan slipping out of your mouth followed by the name of your boyfriend. You want his hands all over you, you want his tongue buried inside of you, you want to feel the warmth of his body everywhere around you.

The images are not enough.

“Spencer, please...”

You don’t hold back, a chorus of curses and pleas is loud enough to echo inside the room. Your juices are coating your fingers, making a wet sound each time you push them in and out of you. You squeeze your thighs around your hand, the other one pushing your shirt up enough to expose your breasts to the fresh air of the night entering from the window.

You’re too lost in your own pleasure to realise that there are footsteps audible from the hallway.

You open your mouth, moaning over and over again. The pleasure is getting so intense to the point you can feel yourself ready to topple over the edge.

“Hey Y/N, I’m...”

Everything stops.

You stop your movements, widening your eyes and staring at your boyfriend on the doorstep. Your fingers are still plunged deep in your tight heat, your thighs glistening from the amount of slickness caused by your own arousal and the dangerous thoughts in your brain.

Spencer stares at you as if he just saw a ghost.

You look gorgeous, completely splayed all over the bed and totally naked beside your shirt only covering your shoulders, with your legs spread open and your hair all over the pillow.

“Fuck, I thought you...”

You stop talking, shaking your head and feeling your cheeks heating up. It’s not the first time someone catches you in the middle of a self-love session, but never thought it’d happen with Spencer – mainly because you don’t need to use your own fingers when you can have his, his mouth and another part of your body.

You should feel embarrassed for what happened, but you don’t.

At the end of the day, he’s your boyfriend and he has seen you naked already many times.

“I’m sorry, I was waiting for you and... uh, I was bored.”

You can’t pinpoint an emotion on his face because his lips are twitched into a tight smile and his eyes are focused on your face, his cheeks now flushed and his eyes shimmering under the faint lights inside the bedroom.

“I could see that, doll.”

Blushing, you bite your bottom lip as you push the blanket off your body.

There’s no point in hiding yourself in his eyes.

“Do you touch yourself at night thinking about me?”

You close your legs, squeezing your thighs together as you feel a rush of adrenaline running through your body at the question. It’s not the first time you find yourself thinking about Spencer and touching yourself with the sound of his whimpers filling your ears.

“Yes, I do.”

Spencer smirks, crossing his arms to his chest.

He’s completely dressed while you’re almost naked on his bed. He thought he’d find you on the couch, passed out with a movie playing on the TV, but you were up to something else – something he’s going to continue, because he knows how frustrating it might be to be interrupted in the middle of something.

Something like this.

“Such a dirty little slut.” Spencer clicks his tongue in the back of his mouth

You blush again at his words, spreading your legs for him. “Oh, you know I am.”

Shaking his head, he starts unbuttoning his shirt. You can feel your insides clenching at the sight of him smirking at you, watching you carefully. Spencer jumps over the bed and towers over you, pressing a soft kiss right below your chin.

“I think about you as well, you know.”

You hum, wrapping your right arm around his neck. “Oh, you do?”

Spencer nods with a wicked smile over his lips, sliding a hand between your legs. The tips of his fingers are grazing over your slit, collecting all your juices before teasing your entrance. You whimper with your eyes wide open, fixed on his face – you don’t want to miss a single detail of his face, of his pleasure building up.

“Oh, absolutely. Especially when it’s late at night and all I can think about is your tight pussy wrapped around my cock, how you always take me so well.”

You love when he speaks to you like this with his low voice, when he tells you exactly what’s running through his mind. Knowing that you turn him on and that he brings himself pleasure by thinking about you, turns you even more on.

You imagine Spencer’s breath hitching and low moans coming out of his throat, his hips bucking up against his hand as he thinks about how good you’d look on top of him, his brain picturing you on your knees for him with your lips wrapped around his cock.

Why hasn’t he called you and shown you that?

You would’ve loved to give him a helping hand.

“I think about how much of a slut you are, always begging me to fuck you harder and faster, to make you come, to make you forget your own name. – Spencer mumbles, his voice echoing through the room as his thumb presses down on your clit – I’m so glad to be home, so I can finally have you however I want.”

Your heart is beating a mile a minute, admiring his cute face and not uttering a single word because you’re too busy gawking at him. Every single word is actually stuck in your throat as you roll your hips, grinding against his hand.

Spencer is not doing anything, simply pressing the palm of his hand against you and feeling your wetness coating you.

He licks the soft skin of your neck, making you shudder.

“Hm, Spencer...”

His mouth lifts, brushing over your ear. “Do you want some help, doll? Do you want me to take care of you?”

You smirk at his question, nodding your head. “Yes, please. I need you so bad, Spence, I’ve been thinking about you all night.”

Spencer doesn’t waste a second, covering your mouth with a quick kiss before lying down between your legs with his face right in front of your glistening core. His big hands are prodding your thighs open, forcing you to keep them exactly like that as his mouth immediately lands on your heat.

Your body shivers at the touch, his rough fingers digging into the soft skin of your thighs as you let out a loud moan that echoes through the wall of his bedroom. You have missed his mouth so much and having it now right there, where you need it the most, feels so fucking intense.

As if you’ve just been stabbed with a sword on fire over and over.

“You taste so fucking good, doll.”

You hum at his words, your eyes closed and your brain completely fuzzy.

You’re so lost in your own pleasure, barely realising his index has slipped inside of you. You arch your back as another word, very similar to his name, spills out of your mouth. Spencer curls his index and presses his finger pad against the soft indentation, your toes curling at the sensation.

You can feel yourself getting closer to the edge.

Spencer licks up your slit, catching your arousal on the tip of his tongue as he moans at the taste, at the sensation of your thighs closing around his head. He has missed going down on you – one of his favourite activities.

He loves watching your body react to his tongue.

“I’m c-close...”

Spencer doesn’t hold back any longer.

He closes his lips around your clit, giving it a gentle suck as you prop on your elbows to admire his face right between your legs. His pink full lips are tightly wrapped around your clit, his tongue swirling on it as he keeps pushing his index in and out of you at a steady place.

“You look so good right there, you know?”

Spencer opens his eyes, looking at you before winking. “Dirty girl.”

Giggling, you run your fingers through his curls. “You know it, love.”

Once you’re dropped back on the bed, you allow yourself to enjoy the moment. The warmth of his tongue and the sounds he’s making are driving you wild, pushing you towards the edge.

Spencer stops sucking your clit for a second and he flattens his tongue, moving it up and down right there where you like it the most. You let out another moan and arch your back, tugging on his curls each time you feel his finger slipping deeper inside of you and his tongue touching you exactly where you want it.

You’ve missed him so much.

Flicking and licking your clit, Spencer keeps his eyes on your face the whole time. Your body is stiffening under his tongue and he knows you’re there, ready to jump over the edge and allow pleasure to control you.

He sucks on your clit again as he picks up the pace of his finger, inserting another one and making you whine even louder. Your stomach knots and you know you’re about to come, because your thighs are shaking and your heart is ready to burst out of your chest.

Spencer places his free hand over your right breast, squeezing it and playing with your nipple before pinching it harshly.

“Fuck! Oh, fuck me, Spencer!”

Spencer closes his mouth right over your clit and makes pressure sucks to bring you over the edge, your body finally giving it to it. His tongue keeps teasing your clit, his fingers are sliding in and out of you rapidly. Spencer helps you ride out your orgasm to the fullest.

The wet sounds of his fingers are melting with the whimpers coming out of your mouth, slowly fading out until you go completely silent.

Spencer’s mouth works on you for a few more seconds. He stops and starts leaving kisses down your inner thigh, his nose brushing against your soft skin as he hums sweet nothings you can barely understand due to your mind completely fuzzy.

You’re overwhelmed.

“You did so good for me, doll.” – Spencer mumbles, his nose nuzzling against your thigh – “That’s it, you did great.”

Slowly opening your legs, you allow Spencer to breathe a bit better. He doesn’t move from where he is, tracing your thighs with little kisses before moving further down to your knee with his eyes still on your face.

You manage to look at him, finally catching your breath.

“I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too, doll.” – Spencer says, giving you a soft smile – “Next time you plan on touching yourself while thinking about me, please, call me.”

You definitely will.

[aslitheryprinx]

So here's part one of the shipwrecked au! A fair warning, it's a little dark, and there's not a happy ending just yet. There is vore in this, and while it's completely safe, Tommy doesn't know that.

It will get a lot better for him after this, but for now, Tommy is not having a good time.

Feel free to send me asks about this au, but don't expect any direct sequels until part 2!

_____

CW: Language. Panic. Soft, safe vore. Fear of digestion. Fear of drowning. Fearplay (unintentional).

_____

No Escape

Tommy had always been afraid of storms. 

Back on land, they had been dangerous. If you lived in a damp area, the heavy rainfall they brought would risk flooding the rivers and streams and destroying your crops. If the area was dry enough, the wild lightning strikes might start a fire, and your trees and maybe even your homes if you were unlucky enough would be devoured by the hungry flames. The wind would make the raindrops hurl through the air fast enough to sting any exposed skin, and could sometimes get strong enough to blow over massive structures, or fling smaller objects around with enough power to break a window. 

When storms hit, the only thing you could do was try to protect your crops and animals if you had any, then hunker down away from the windows and pray to your gods if you had any that you would still have a home when the storm broke. As a child, Tommy had grabbed his favorite stuffed animal and squeezed his eyes shut, clutching it to his chest until it was over. 

Tommy didn't think he could get more scared of storms than he was before he understood that storms by themselves rarely killed people- even if the aftermath could be horrifically deadly. Now, a teenager on the open ocean in the middle of the most terrifying storm he'd ever seen, he knew he'd been wrong. 

The waves crashed against the hull of the ship like they had a vendetta. Tommy wasn't one to believe in gods, but he was starting to wonder if somebody on board had angered one. 

The ship rocked violently, and waves surged over the sides, knocking Tommy off of his feet. If not for the ropes that the crew had insisted everyone tie around their waists and secure to a sturdy part of the ship, Tommy would have been thrown overboard no less than six times. He was currently clutching the mast of the vessel, trying desperately to stay on his feet. As the ship lurched yet again, he slipped on the slick wood and slammed his face into the painfully solid mast. He could feel his eye throbbing where he'd taken the brunt of the impact and added it to his rapidly growing list of bruises. 

The crew was rushing around the ship, trying their best to navigate through the storm. Tommy had realized very quickly that the best way he could help was by staying the fuck out of their way while they worked. He hated feeling so helpless, but there was nothing he could do here. He was at the mercy of the crew's skill, and at the mercy of the murderous storm. 

The crew were working with just as much ruthless efficiency as they had the entire journey. But Tommy saw the tense looks they exchanged, the slight shakiness in some of the younger member's hands, the quickly muttered prayers. He was terrified that they didn't seem to expect to survive. 

A particularly powerful wave smashed sideways into him. He lost his grip on the mast and salt water shot into his nose, burning like it was acid. He coughed and spluttered, not bothering to try and stand. He planted his hands and knees on the deck and tried to breathe. 

Suddenly there was a horrible cracking sound from the other side of the ship. He heard shouting, and crew members began rushing to the source of the noise. He pushed himself onto his knees, but was instantly jerked back down as someone stepped on his tether. 

He tried again once they were gone, and felt a sudden tension in his rope as it caught on something. His stomach twisted, and he scrambled to his feet. He had to get back to the mast just in case- all the tension suddenly went slack in his tether as it snapped, and his heart dropped. He lost his balance and fell against the side of the ship. A poorly timed wave barreled into him, and the only thing he could manage to think before he was swept over the side was a vehement "fuck!" 

Tommy was disoriented at first, underwater with no idea which way was up. Before he could start to panic, he heard a scream that sounded distant and muffled through the water, and followed the sound to the surface. 

He broke the surface and managed a single gasp for air before he was swallowed by another wave. He clawed his way up as quickly as he could, knowing every second was now a fight for survival. 

There were more screams, but he couldn't care less about what was happening with the ship, not when every breath he took was a desperate scramble for air. 

On his fourth exhausting battle with the waves, he spotted a large chunk of wood drifting a few feet away. He was pushed under again, but once he resurfaced, he swam frantically towards it. 

He managed to grab onto it just before the next wave hit. He nearly sobbed in relief when the wood instantly bobbed back up, even with his added weight. Instead, he greedily gulped the air he now didn't have to fight the ocean for.

As another wave slammed into him, and he almost lost his grip, he realized he was still in a precarious position. He decided to tie what remained of his tether to his tiny makeshift life preserver. If he did lose his grip, hopefully he'd be able to grab it again using the rope. 

For the next several hours, he fought to stay on the wood, only falling off once. He was able to get back on within two wave cycles, and would've felt smug for his foresight if he weren't so busy not dying. 

He didn't see the ship anymore, and he hadn't in a while. He was forcing himself to focus on survival, because he was terrified to think about it. There were a few pieces of driftwood like the one he was clinging to. But no ship. 

Hours later, when the waves had calmed some and he was no longer in danger of going under every few seconds, he couldn't ignore it any longer. 

The ship had gone down. He was the only person clinging to something on the surface, which meant every single person besides him had been dragged down with it. 

Tommy let himself sob, because the horror and pain was one more thing keeping him from succumbing to the gnawing exhaustion. 

***

There was something in the water. 

Hours of exhausting floating had brought calmer waters. The clouds had finally cleared, leaving his skin to blister under the sun. It was far better than the storm, though, and he was too cold from the water to care. But as dusk had started falling, Tommy saw a shadow of movement somewhere beneath the waves. 

His pulse felt like it was crawling into his throat. Fucking hell, he never should have gone out to sea. He prayed the shadow, which was looking more massive by the second, wasn't what he thought it was. He prayed it wasn't the creature that was every sailor's worst nightmare. Something that even haunted the dreams of people who rarely sailed, Tommy included. It was so rare, that it was only that, a nightmare. His luck couldn't be that bad, could it? 

Please, please let it be dolphins, whales, even sharks- the shadow was now bigger than the ship had been- anything but what it almost certainly was. 

Tommy was trembling from head to toe. Hope or pray all he liked, but there was nothing that shadow could be but a mer. His only hope now was that the notorious man-eater didn't spot him. 

Part of the creature breached the water, and Tommy bit his tongue until it bled to keep from whimpering. It was probably over 50 feet away, but it was so massive that it hardly mattered. 

Its head alone towered above any of the houses Tommy had ever seen, save maybe the ridiculous mansions he'd occasionally passed. It had blonde hair a few shades lighter than his own that fell around it's neck, brushing against massive gills. Green fins the size of sails protruded from where it's ears would be if it were human. 

It rose until the top of its shoulders were above the water, then began slowly turning its head. 

Tommy realized it was searching- probably hunting the remains of the ship for tasty human snacks… like him. Its head was slowly but steadily turning in his direction, and he had only a couple of seconds to act before he would be seen. He took a gulp of air and slipped into the water, hoping the driftwood that had kept him alive so far would save him once more. He just had to hope the mer's view was blocked. 

There was a tiny splash as he slipped below the water and his heart stuttered. Shit, shit, shit, please don't let it have heard. 

There was a noise above him, like a drawn out hum that he realized with a chill came from the mer. Even with the water muffling it, he felt the vibrations through his entire body. He stayed deathly still. 

When he heard a splash, he couldn't help but turn his head, and suddenly he was looking directly into massive bright blue eyes. He yelped, and water filled his mouth. The mer tilted its head, and adrenaline hit Tommy like a truck. 

He tore towards the surface, coughing and panting for air once he breached. He wasted no time, knowing the mer would be approaching far too quickly. He started to swim in the opposite direction of the mer, moving faster than he ever had before. Seconds later a sharp tug in his stomach stopped him. 

Oh fuck, he had forgotten about the tether. He grabbed at the rope, fumbling around for a knot, but it was too late. A monstrous hand was beneath him. Each finger was as big as a person and tipped with deadly looking claws. The hand scooped him out of the water, and Tommy felt oddly, terrifyingly like the tadpoles he would sometimes pick up from the ponds. He hysterically promised himself that if he survived, he would never catch a tadpole again if this is what they experienced. 

The rope tugged again, and his unwilling ride upwards halted for a second, only to continue when the mer picked up the driftwood he was attached to in its other hand. 

Tommy was frozen in place. All he could do was stare at the massive hand he was sitting in and try not to pass out from terror. A claw traced his side and he shuddered violently. 

The mer said something in a melodic language. Tommy whipped his head around to look, automatically regretting it when he looked up, up, up, at the face of the mer. It opened its mouth, and Tommy whimpered at the sight of its teeth. He almost missed that it was saying something else in the disturbingly beautiful language. 

There was a muffled crunch from somewhere below him. He flinched as the mer's other hand came up and he realized what had happened: it had crushed the wood Tommy was tethered to in its hand. 

Suddenly, the surface beneath him moved. The mer was tilting its hand sideways, and Tommy was sliding towards the edge. He scrambled for purchase, but he had no choice in the matter. He was dumped off the mers hand, and fully expected to plummet a hundred feet to his death. He let out a strangled scream, but it was cut short when he only dropped a few feet into the mers other hand. 

Tears built in his eyes. Yes, he was scared, but he was also frustrated. It was just one horrible thing after another. He was experiencing the worst top ten moments of his life all one after another, and was completely and utterly helpless through it all. He was going to die in the most horrifying way he could think of, and the mer who would kill him was just toying with him. It was tossing him around like he was a plaything. 

"Go fuck yourself, you stupid bitch!" Tommy screamed at the mer, finally snapping. The tears started leaking from his eyes, and he furiously wiped at his cheeks, even though the soaked sleeves just made his face more wet. He tried to scowl at the mer, but even looking at his massive, stupid face was making him panic. The mer tilted his massive head. 

"Yeah, you heard me! Fuck you! I hate you, I hate you so much! My day was shit enough and then you came along! Go the fuck away, put me down, I'll kill you dickhead!" Tommy didn't think the mer was picking up a single word of his tirade. His face had remained unchanged through the entire rant. But yelling at the giant mer made Tommy feel a little bit better. It was better to be angry than scared, and Tommy had a lot of anger to give. 

He took a deep breath, about to go for round two of random insults, but the mer's other hand was coming towards him and the words died in his throat. He scrambled backwards, but there really wasn't anywhere to go. 

Fingers as thick as his torso brushed up against him and he squeezed his eyes shut. His breath was coming in shaky wheezes. He felt the fingers pinching the rope around his waist. There was a small shwick as the mer's deadly claws cut through the rope with more ease than a knife. It fell into his lap, and the mer plucked it off with no protest from Tommy. He was too busy trying not to be sick from the sudden realization of how easily the mer's claws could dig into him. 

A finger poked his head, and he recoiled. The finger withdrew briefly, but then he was being poked and prodded again, on his face, legs, arms, back. Tommy sat deathly still, terrified of the razor sharp claws inches from his face. He couldn't help but be reminded of checking an apple for bruises before buying it. 

He definitely had bruises. He winced as the mer brushed over one. Maybe he would decide Tommy was too injured and let him go? It was wishful thinking, but Tommy would take what optimism he could. 

The mer had stopped poking him, and was now saying something in the damn language that Tommy couldn't understand. He glared at him, considering calling him an annoying bitch, but the sudden rising of the hand wiped any thoughts of insults out of his mind. 

He was lifted up much higher, coming to a stop in front of the mers face. Of his mouth. The lips parted, and Tommy saw the mouthful of razor sharp teeth. 

A fresh wave of terror poured through his veins. He made a strange noise between a sob and a scream, and scrambled wildly backwards. His chest heaved, and he darted his eyes around, searching for an escape. The only thing he could think of was throwing himself towards the water and hoping he survived. 

He lurched towards the edge of the mer's hand, but his escape was stopped by a finger hooking his chest and pulling him back. A thumb was placed against his back, and then Tommy was being held in place by a simple pinch. 

He started to babble, pleas to let him go falling from his lips. He begged the mer not to kill him, even though he didn't understand him, even though Tommy hated begging. 

He'd been trying not to think about his inevitable fate, hoping it would never come. He wasn't ready- he was so fucking scared of dying, especially like this. 

The mer just made an indecipherable noise that he didn't think a human could even make. He was brought even closer to the mouth, and he kicked and flailed. He didn't even budge the fingers. He was once again helpless as death approached- this time inevitably. He let out a frightened gasp as he was lifted up to dangle between the two fingers. 

"Please, no," he whispered around a choked sob. His plea fell on deaf ears. The fingers loosened and he fell.

He was dropped directly into the mer's mouth and he flinched, curling in a protective ball. He was expecting the sharp teeth to tear him to shreds. Instead, the mouth closed behind him, and he felt something massive and warm- the mer's tongue- pressing against him. 

He shuddered, and tried to shove it away, but the tongue took up most of the warm, humid mouth he was trapped in. The mer prodded him again with his tongue, pushing him towards the back of the mouth. 

Tommy felt a fresh twist of horror as he realized the mer intended to swallow him whole. He threw himself backwards, trying desperately to stop the mer. Instead, his balance shifted wildly as the mer threw his head back. 

Tommy was helpless at the pull of gravity combined with the giant tongue pushing him down. Despite his struggling, he was forced to the mer's throat. He heard a swallow. 

There was a warm pressure all around him as he was pulled downward by the throat muscles. It wasn't tight enough to hurt, but the close walls made him feel claustrophobic, and he instinctively struggled. 

The pressure suddenly released, and he tumbled onto something soft- he was in the mer's stomach. He tried to scramble to his feet, but the surface was too slippery. He got to his feet only briefly, brushing his head against the top of the stomach, before falling back down. 

Tommy didn't try again, curling into a ball and shaking. Heat radiated from the walls of the stomach, and there was a pulsing, thrumming noise all around him that he identified as the mer's heartbeat. He could hear a whooshing that could have been the lungs for a few seconds, before the sound just stopped. He felt a slight swaying movement, and guessed the mer was now moving, fully underwater. 

He'd been swallowed, eaten alive. Any second now, he'd run out of air or acid would begin to eat away at his skin. It was all too much, and Tommy broke down into uncontrollable sobs. 

Part Two

[notquiteaghost]

ed's right to stay angry at stede for a while + unsustainable nature of the blackbeard persona and the relevant ed/izzy dynamic + all the varying directions of jealousy...... im having thoughts

like. ed uses izzy to make stede jealous? except even before stede is there. ed says ok fine izzy i will be insane BUT i am also going to be tender to you and no i don't entirely know who i'm punishing by doing that. no you're right we don't need stede because you love me and you haven't fucking left.

so then when stede returns. ed's resolve to be like "fuck you i don't even need you" crumbles almost immediately but also izzy is like oh thank FUCK he keeps insisting i sleep in his bed and we cuddle i changed my mind you can keep him. and stede's like, well. okay? and then izzy lasts maybe a week before he has to admit to himself seeing ed be cutesy and affectionate with stede instead is not actually an improvement and he is jealous and he is also going to throw himself overboard

not that he articulates this he probably just does throw himself overboard. stede fishes him back out and says you ASKED for this you idiot ed didn't WANT to back off for christ's sake i'm going to tie the two of you together then tie both of you to the mast and have the crew use you for target practice if you don't use your words soon. izzy has a revelatory moment about what someone might hypothetically find attractive about this dandy. stede takes advantage of it to bodily drag him back to the captains' cabin

[gkingoffez]

the reasons i had for keeping my claws away

Fandom: Our Flag Means Death

Pairing: Stede Bonnet/Edward Teach

Words: 6519

AO3

-

In the wake of the raid, the dust settles- the Revenge stops creaking of battle to return to natural rhythms, blood staining the wooden boards dry and the fearsome Captain Blackbeard, known lately as the Kraken, has been defeated. Not that he’s fucking happy about it.

He’s a pirate, on a pirate ship, and it shouldn’t have been a surprise, but it was. The small fishing vessel slipped past notice despite the clear afternoon, and then it was too late, and he emerged on deck to face a small army of people he’d thought long dead. Jim and Frenchie had switched sides, Fang and Ivan had given up immediately (and far too happily in Fang’s case), Izzy had been bellowing something, begging for orders maybe and swishing his blade about, but it all fell to background noise as soon as the Kraken laid eyes on… Him.

The whole thing was all a bit jumbled, really- Kraken remembered lunging at Him, punching and knives and yelling and blood, His face melting from a wide grin to panic to frustration, yelling things back, parrying and trying to fucking talk they weren’t in the middle of a fight.

“Fucking traitor. Fucking bastard, liar, fucking deserter!” the Kraken had yelled, drowning out anything else.

In the end, it had taken the final surprise of Lucius Spriggs (the final piece of the puzzle, really) emerging from the hull, yelling about secret passages and throwing himself into Black Pete’s arms that had allowed the crew to get the jump on him. They’d dragged him kicking and screaming, off and away from Him, and so now he sits, ass to the floor, legs straight and bound against the bow mast, rope wrapping securely around his chest and right arm, leaving him pinned.  

For a brief moment while Oluwande and Pete had been tying the knots, Kraken had pulled his left arm free, raising it to strike, only for the Swede to swoop in, pin it to the wood above his head and tie it in place there with yet more rope. What a stupid way to tie someone up, he’d had never tolerated it from one of his own crew.

Humiliating, is what it is. He’s fuming and mad, definitely not pouting- he’s a weathered sea Captain, the pirate scourge of seas and several monarchies, and a ragtag crew of idiots had him trussed up like a bird ready to be cooked within twenty minutes of their initial boarding.

It’s all a temporary measure, he’s been assured. Until he calms down, or some shit, and besides Izzy has already taken up the ship’s singular cell below, shouting himself more hoarse than usual until someone had knocked him over the head to shut him up.

Accommodations will be made, the crew said, but it would all go a lot simpler if you would just cooperate. No one has to die here if it can be helped.

“Not very pirate-like,” he’d spit back, with all the venom of his cold heart, which was still thumping wildly in his chest.

But that was hours ago now, and they’ve tied his binds tightly, and so the Kraken has little choice but to sit still, occasionally flexing, testing the knots or mast for any sign of give (curse the steady, expensive craftsmanship!), glaring at any who dare make eye contact. Cursing and mumbling, and pretending like the arm above his head wasn’t falling asleep (fuck) or that his bum knee didn’t ache or that the bruises from the fight weren’t making themselves known as adrenaline faded.

And thinking. He’s doing a lot of that.

Plans, strategies, to escape, to regain control, so just throw himself into the fucking ocean and let the waves take him rather than face… well, whatever the fuck the next few hours might have in store.

And other things, like at least they didn’t gag me and how the fuck did they get the drop on us and unless they had someone on the inside and Frenchie’s probably been communicating with them for weeks and what kind of an idiot custom built a pirate ship with only a one jail cell?

Well, only Him, the idiot who approaches him wearily now- by rights a Deadman, crawled out of his expensive grave and across the ocean specifically, it seems, to haunt the Kraken’s waking life as well as his dreams.

A fucking ghost- no, a ghost would have turned to vapor under his fists and the knife he’d buried into the man’s shoulder during the fight (he’d been intending for the heart, but had inexplicably missed). So not a ghost, but still a traitor. A traitor, a bastard, a thief (and Kraken’s chest has been aching since the moment he looked in the man’s eyes again, but he ignores it) and a lying deserter.

“Edward,” says The Gentleman Pirate, grimacing as he sits cross legged some feet away, bandages across his shoulder and arm in a makeshift sling, bruises blossoming across his face, blonde hair shoulder-length, flat and greasy on his head and the scruff of rough beard marring his white jaw.

Stede Bonnet. Fucking Stede Bonnet. Or Stede focking Bonnet, as Izzy might say.

“I’m sorry about this. I truly hoped it wouldn’t go this way-”

“That’s Blackbeard to you, dog,” the Kr-Blackbeard hisses, “Now shut the fuck up and leave me alone.”

And Bonnet doesn’t. In fact, his eyes narrow, lips purse and fingers curl into fists. The determination of a lunatic.

“No. No, I will not do either of those things. I’ve come too far and done too much get back to this ship, to you- so you are going to hear me out, and you will sit still and you will shut the fuck up, and not try any funny business while I do so, or-!” and Bonnet gestures wildly to a point off behind Blackbeard’s right ear- “Jim over there will have something to say about it!”

The sound of a knife hitting wood is all the confirmation Blackbeard needs of that. He turns his head anyway to see them in periphery, leaning casually against a nearby railing, staring and twisting a knife into the handrail with obvious threat. Notably, they are still wearing their black leather jacket, reminding him that only several hours earlier he’d had full control of his ship and crew. How quickly tides could change.

“Now, I’m not expecting a miracle here,” continues Bonnet, “I’m not stupid enough to think that just hearing my side of the story will cause some miraculous reconciliation or that forgiveness can be so easily earned. You’re angry at me and I deserve it, but I think it’ll do us both good to get at least a little closure with each other. You know what I always say, best to talk it through as a, uh, crew. So, I’ll tell my story, and you can tell yours, if you like, and we can decide where to go from there together. Hopefully with words, though, because I’ve had quite enough of knives for today.”

The attempt at a joke falls flat on its face.

Blackbeard lets a few awkward beats go by, glaring, and Bonnet clears his throat. “So, uh, do you agree to the terms of this little chat, Blackbeard?”

“You can do whatever you want, Mr Bonnet,” Blackbeard sneers, and to make a point he flexes again against his binds (although, curiously finds a slight give in the separate ropes of his left hand, but he easily masks the surprise there). “Not like you’ve left me with any bloody choice here, mate.”

That last word slips out unbidden, and gives him slight pause. This isn’t a friendly conversation. We are not friends. We are not anything, not anymore. Traitor, bastard, liar, deserter.

Bonnet, however, doesn’t appear to notice.

“Ah yes, I suppose that’s true.” He nods, for way too long and maybe only just for himself, fidgets with the ends of his bandages and shuffles around as though to get more comfortable on his ass. Like wooden planks were ever any kind of comfortable.

The next silent seconds tick by torturously slow, winding Blackbeard up tighter than that the chains of an anchor being pulled from the depths. He’s a moment away from cursing the man out again, to tell him to just get it over with or to just torture him or to just fuck off again, when Bonnet takes a steeling breath, and pins him down with those sharp, brown eyes.

“Ok, then.”

And then he’s talking, at first with structure and intent, as though he’s rehearsed this, but it then dissolves into a desperate, rambling vomit of words.

It takes Blackbeard a few moments to figure out what he’s hearing- a fucking play-by-play of Stede Bonnet’s entire fucking life since they’d last seen each in the dim light of the Academy’s dormitory. He talks of misfired guns and splattered brains, art exhibits, kebab sticks, petrified oranges and a dramatic fuckery of carriages, jungle cats and pianos (“My only regret is that I wish you could have seen it.”) and there’s more still.

Bonnet tells of belated love realisations (an awful twisting, gut punching feeling) the obvious stupidity of setting sail in a small boat with minimal provisions, the luck of stumbling upon his own marooned crew on a tiny island, the ache and anxiety of the pursuit; the longing and long nights and careful plans and ‘acquiring’ a boat from some poor fisherman and also the apologies.

Turns out he has a lot of those.

I’m sorry I left you there that night, sorry it took so long to find you again, sorry I hurt you so much you had to turn that hurt outwards, sorry, sorry, sorry.

And Blackbeard, well, he just sits. And listens. He tells himself he shouldn’t; that the only reason he’s still here is the rope tying him to the mast. That Stede Bonnet would, should be a real corpse under his hands for ripping through his life and heart and pride all those months ago.

He’d tried to do as much only hours earlier, Izzy Hands’ whisper in his ear as he’d bellowed with rage and murderous intent. Punched the stupid man in the face and stabbed him in the shoulder (he’d meant for the heart, he keeps telling himself) and tried to- well thinking back, he wasn’t so sure what he’d been trying to do in that moment. Something or other about proving the Kraken’s power to the crew or showing Bonnet that he wasn’t that weak fool on that beach anymore or maybe just… trying to make him feel as shitty and hurt as Blackbeard felt inside.

But now Izzy is below deck, probably still out cold, and while at first it had taken restraint (and a reminder of Jim’s sharp and pointy presence behind him) to keep his mouth shut, it seems the more Stede speaks, the more tension oozes from Blackbeard’s own body, like a sluggish mortal wound leaking blood.

“It’s not simple, why I left you there. Please believe me, it wasn’t anything with you, or what happened that day, and especially not- well.” A beat. “It was me, and it was a lot of little things and big things, and in the moment, I truly and stupidly thought you’d be better off without me, Edward.” Stede has been crying for some minutes now, tracks running through the grime on his face and frilled sleeve occasionally coming up to wipe at his reddening, watery nose.

“It was the wrong decision to go back to my family, I see that now crystal clear. I was never the husband or father they needed. These past months have only solidified my belief that I belong out here on the ocean, with my crew, with-”

He stops himself, but the ‘you’ is so obvious it seems to physically hang in the air between them. He looks away, blinking, and Edward does the same, taking a moment to steel himself and take stock of his surroundings- it’s nearing sunset and the air is cooling, a gathering of darker clouds on the horizon and a familiar ache in his knee heralding the likely arrival of rain later. Oluwande has sidled up to Jim and they talk quietly, arms intimately brushing against each other, but still keeping a watchful eye with hands on their weapons.

Edward waits until their gazes are elsewhere, and tugs again at the rope around his left wrist. It gives a little slack.

Stede turns back again, slightly more collected. Opens his mouth, closes it again. Kinda like a fish, gaping and awkward. Edward finds his gaze drawn unconsciously to the pink of those lips, and the memory of the last time they’d sat side by side, talking quietly and he’d leaned in closer-

In a fit of anger, the Kraken rears its head.

“Oh, fuck off with this SOB story, Bonnet! So what, you had an epic journey of self-realisation, doesn’t change the fact that you deserted me to run back to your comfortable little life, whatever reasons you had. And then, when they didn’t welcome you back like a hero, and wasn’t all easy and fucking roses, you just ran away again. That’s all you seem to be good at, isn’t it Stede?”

Blackbeard expects an equally heated reply, a cutting remark, some passive aggression.

Instead, Bonnet fixes him with a shrewd eye. He sighs.

“You know,” he says, “It’s been months now, but I just seem to keep coming back to the things Chauncey Badminton said that night, before he died.”

And Edward’s poor heart, which had felt little else but numbness and heat and alcoholic haze for so long, sinks in his chest. He honestly doesn’t know how much more of this he can handle. He groans, dipping his head, feeling things and feelings and memories and emotions so much it’s almost dizzying.

He’d begrudgingly accepted some time ago that a part of his brain would always be on that dock- staring at the stars, jumping up expectantly at every noise, pacing back and forth like a naïve, lovesick fool pining for his boyfriend. But somehow now it’s even worse knowing that the man he’d been waiting for- the man he’d thrown his life away for and planned to sail away to a distant land with- had only been minutes away at gunpoint. What awful, horrible thing had that Badminton fucker said that it still vexed Stede’s mind?

And the Kraken and even Blackbeard cry in his head that he doesn’t, shouldn’t care, Stede had left him there alone and the dickhead was probably lying on top of all of that- some elaborate plan to not get himself killed- but the part that was Edward is in control as he nods at Stede to continue.

The man draws in a ragged breath.

“Before he shot himself, Chauncey said it was all my fault. That I was a monster… a plague. That I brought the greatest pirate in history to ruin- that, that I… defile… beautiful things.”

And Stede looks at him with those big, honest, (beautiful brown) sparkling eyes, like he’s just confessed the most awful of crimes, and Edward, blinking, can’t help but be… well, confused.

“What? And you believed that? That’s fucking ridiculous.” It’s the first thing he’s said to Stede since the raid without any malice or hurt, just incredulity.

Stede shrugs with a half-laugh, playing absently with the bandages on his shoulder. A red stain was slowly blossoming through them. They’d need to be changed again before the morning, probably.

“That fucker’s better off dead, I could tell he was a nut from the first,” says Edward, “What kinda Admiral trips onto his own gun, anyway? Stupid.”

“Well, he was quite drunk,” offers Stede.

“Don’t defend that bastard, he tried to kill you!” exclaims Edward.

“Trust me I’m not, he and his brother were right dicks even in our childhood. Still, it’s not proper or gentlemanly to speak ill of the dead, even if you wish they’d died sooner.”

Edward snorts, and immediately wishes he could suck it back in when Stede shoots him a small smirk.

No, not mates, not friends, not anything. Not a friendly conversation, here, between a captor and captee, no co-Captains to be found.

He growls. Clenches his hands into fists, willing the anger of the Kraken to rise again, but it barely seems to lift a tentacle, in truth, the fight had left alongside the adrenaline. Still, he tries.

“You think you ruined me? I’m a grown man and a pirate, mate, I make my own decisions, always have,” he says. “And defiling pretty things or whatever? What the hell’s that got to do with this or me?”

It doesn’t make sense- it’s not like Edward Teach has ever been a beautiful thing that could be defiled or ruined in the first place. He was and is a tight bundle of skin, bones, shattered nerves and tattoos. He is a flag waving in the wind that sends fear into the hearts of brave men, a story of eight guns and smoke to scare children in their beds, a finely tuned instrument of destruction, just a half-crazed maniac with running black charcoal across his eyes and jaw, rampaging across the Caribbean. He’s the child strangling his father on a dock decades ago and the man throwing a friend into the ocean to drown just for caring and a caged animal always waiting to strike, especially now, trussed against the mast of his own damn ship.

And Stede, Stede fucking Bonnet, looks at him with soft realisation, mouth opening to a soft ‘Oh’, full of all the softness and tenderness in the world- almost like he had after Edward had idiotically kissed him that twilight on the beach.

“Oh, my dear. My heart, my love, my darling,” the words feel foreign to Ed’s ears, but they tumble so naturally from Stede’s mouth, upturned in a gentle smile. “I thought I’d make myself clear in the story, but perhaps I haven’t.”

And Stede stumbles forward on his knees, the hand of his uninjured arm suddenly cupping Edward’s face, so close he can smell sweat and a hint of whatever far too plain soap he’d been using, and see the individual bristles of that grey-blonde scraggly (and admittedly attractive) beard.

Stede’s calloused fingers brush so tenderly against Edward’s cheekbone it almost hurts, gooseflesh erupting and eyes starting to water, stupidly, from just the feeling. It’s more gentleness that he wants or deserves and it’s the most he’s been touched so gently in so long and- oh god it’s like looking directly at the sun or a lighthouse in the night, the brightness burning his eyes.

Blackbeard shifts uncomfortably, the sting of rope pressing against leather and chafed skin a stingy reminder that, yes, this is happening and no, he can’t get away from it. And maybe that’s not… the worst thing ever. The Kraken would be sneering in disgust right now, spitting in Stede’s eye, but Edward can’t bring himself to do that, only stare like a child into the face he’d once thought he’d never see again in waking life.

“You,” says Stede, like a prayer, leaning closer, “You, my lovely Ed. All you did for me, all you gave up- your free life at sea, your beard, everything.  I ran partly because I thought I’d ruined you, taken a beautiful ship and ran it aground with my selfishness. I couldn’t bear it.”

Edward can’t bear it. He shakes his head minutely, wills himself to speak, to deny, to shout or bite his own tongue off, but can’t. Stede is right there, so close, and the best he can do is lean his head back as far as the wood behind him will allow but it’s not enough distance. It’s too close, at the same time, too far. Oh, god, he had forgotten the exact shade of brown of Stede’s eyes until this very second!

Stede’s hand travels downward, fingers gently tugging the black cravat around his neck on the way down, (shoulda thrown that thing out months ago, damnit), down his chest until it settles on what he can reach of Edward’s right hand, tied down somewhere next to his midriff.

(He wriggles his separately tied left arm, feels the rope loosening even more.)

And Stede is still talking, damn him, rambling again with short, excited breaths that dance across Edward’s face.

“I love- I fell in love with you, in that short time we were together. You made me happy, and I’m such an idiot, for not realising it sooner- I suppose you kissing me should have been a huge clue, but it wasn’t because I was just so stupid. And you’d best believe I’m still in love with you, even now, after all the time and distance I’ve crossed to be here today. I wish I could conjure better words or that I was dressed a little nicer for this, but you need to know. Oh, my beautiful, beautiful Ed, my love!”

“I’m-I’m not,” is all Edward can grunt, mind empty. Not beautiful, no, never. No one has ever- he isn’t, he’s not. Just not.

“But you are!” Stede replies, and suddenly his scratchy lips are on Edward’s forehead placing a gentle kiss, and he’s gazing into folds of a white shirt, a peak of bare chest beneath it. “You are! I’ll tell it to you a thousand times over, I’ll shout it from the crow’s nest for the whole ocean to hear, whatever it takes for you to believe it. Edward Teach, I love you and you are beautiful!”

There are tears in Edward’s blinking eyes, and it all comes roaring back like crushing wave- how Stede had made him so fucking happy too, made it seem like he had a choice for the first time in a long time. Like maybe he could live the rest of his life softly, surrounded by fine things, avoiding that violent, bloody destiny he’d been sailing towards since childhood. But Stede had left, he’d left, and Izzy Hands’ words had buzzed around in his head (maybe just like Badminton’s had with Stede), and something had snapped in his brain, the Kraken emerging from the wreckage calling him a stupid fucking fool for trying to veer off course.

So he’d overcorrected, leaving Lucius, the crew, most of Stede’s possessions and even Izzy to bear the consequences, scattered and hurt like the debris left in the wake of a hurricane.

But that wasn’t the last of it, either, because whatever pieces of his heart that remained had shattered the day Ivan handed him the newspaper page with ‘STEDE BONNET, WEALTHY LANDOWNER THOUGHT DEAD, DIES SHORTLY AFTER MIRACULOUS RETURN HOME’ splashed upon it like a tombstone’s epitaph, and well- that was it, wasn’t it.

He’d been drinking more ever since, alcohol the only way he could keep a steady aim in a raid or pass out in the night, without the feeling that all that business with the Act of Grace and giving his beard and life away had been for nothing- or even worse, that Stede Bonnet had taken the last of Edward Teach’s goodness and grace with him to the afterlife.

And who really gave a shit if he was cruel and hard to his crew, if the Kraken was less myth than Blackbeard had ever been. He saw it every time he happened on his own reflection nowadays, just a feral beast animating the body of what once had been a man. His unchangeable, unbearable course directly into the fires of Hell.

But… was it really that unchangeable?

After all, the real crew of the Revenge had come home today. He can hear Lucius, Black Pete and Fang laughing together somewhere behind him, the sounds of merry celebration and glasses clinking softly filling the air, Wee John tearfully telling Frenchie how much he missed him, and he knows from sound alone that Olu had yet to leave Jim’s side against the rail. He’d seen them kiss earlier, embracing as though they were afraid to let go of each other. Even Izzy would wake in a few hours, furious and with a splitting headache, but very much alive, and Stede, well- Stede is on his knees between Edward’s legs, filling his vision with golden curls and soft, pale skin. Frowning at him.

“Ed? You do believe me, don’t you Ed?”

Edward meets his gaze, dazed, suddenly aware that he has yet to form a complete sentence out loud since Stede had declared his, well, love.

“Don’t know. Don’t know what to think, it’s all a lot, everything you’ve said, all complicated and shit.” He clears his throat. God, he wants a drink. Maybe that will make things clearer and easier. It’s all foggy and muddled, this feelings business.

Stede pulls back a onto his haunches with a ‘hmm’, brow furrowed. Crooks his head, runs his eyes up and down, lands on Edward’s lips, licks his own. Clenches his fingers.

“Well, maybe this will make things a little simpler, then.”

Stede leans in again and then, inexplicably, for the second time in his life, Edward Teach is kissing Stede Bonnet. Properly, on the lips, and his brain goes fzzzzzzz and then empty. But it’s not the nothing numb empty of the Kraken, no, this is almost nice- there’s no cataclysm of pain being kept at bay here, just lips, awkward and searching on his and the sensation of fingers running down the matted mess of his hair and the warmth of it all, the touch, the exhale of Stede’s breath through his nose against his own nostrils, how easily they seem to slot in together like-

And Edward jolts back into himself, eyes flying open. Why the fuck are you allowing this? It’s Izzy’s voice, or maybe his own instead or as well. A poisonous whisper that seems to shove a sinking weight into his stomach. He’s a fucking traitor, bastard-

And he wants to blame the ropes for his sudden inability to move, but that wouldn’t be the truth- it’s him, his body that’s… betraying him? Was that the right word? Anyway, here he is, angry at himself, at the world, at Stede Bonnet rising from the grave to make him feel his fucking feelings, angry that actually wants to kiss the fucker like he wants water or air. Or maybe he’s angry that he isn’t angrier. He should be angry, right? Right?!? This is all so confusing.

And, probably sensing the maelstrom brewing in Edward, the blonde bastard pulls back, eyes fluttering open, face etched in disappointment or maybe sorrow. The outsides of his mouth are stained black with the Kraken’s charcoal beard, a horrible mar on the pink of his lips and the pale skin surrounding them. He takes another steeling breath, like he had at the start of the conversation, and seems to pull himself together.

“I’m sorry, Ed. I shouldn’t have done that. Shouldn’t have assumed you’d still want that after all this time.” The apologetic smile he plasters on seems oddly forced, not reaching his eyes and the wetness they are still brimming with. “It’s ok, though! We have time now to do whatever you want to do, whether that’s getting you back to your old self again, or helping with this new fervour you have for piracy, either way, I’ll be here for it! Anything you want I’ll do, except leave you alone of cours. I’m determined to never do that again for the rest of my life, if it can be helped.”

His face falls. Something in Edward’s heart tumbles with it.

“And if you don’t want… me like that ever again, well that’s ok too.” Stede gestures vaguely, awkwardly  at his lips. “I hurt you terribly the first time and as much as I had hoped- well, all that matters is that you’re ok, I suppose. And if you’re ok, then I will be too, love.”

Edward can only stare, and stare and stare some more, at the earnest man before him. It was too much, too soon, all at once.

‘I’m not a good person,’ he’d once told Stede, huddled in a bathtub under a stolen dressing gown, and that was true then and even truer now. The Kraken wasn’t really all that new, just a bigger, bolder and darker Blackbeard, he’d told himself. Blackbeard without reservation, without the weakness and morality of Edward holding him back, everything Izzy wanted and more.

Just yesterday they’d raided a Dutch fishing vessel, ripping though the ship and it’s crew like a violent storm, leaving little else but a leaking hull for the terrified survivors to desperately patch as the Revenge sailed away victoriously. Two weeks before it had been a French trade ship, and he remembered that even through the whole bottle of rum he’d downed, because the Captain had been oddly brave. He’d fought to the last in defence of his cargo and crew, and barely screamed as the Kraken pushed him down the galley steps, ensuring that Edward heard every sharp crack of his bones snapping on the way down. He couldn’t remember how many raids he’d led these past months, all of them blurring together in one big soup pot in his brain.

Blackbeard’s himself again, Izzy had said proudly at the start of it. But now, all Edward could think was how strangely easy it had been for Wee John and Buttons to take him down in the raid, almost as though the man had just wanted it to be all over.

Absently, Edward tries again at the separate rope on his left hand, and there! It gives enough that he knows he can slip out of it.

He knows what he should do, now, and he has very little time to do it. He’d noticed the knife on Bonnet’s hip the second he’d sat down. One quick and coordinated move and he’d have it, and a quick, unexpected kick would send the other man flying onto his ass, his injured shoulder keeping him down. The next bit would be tricky, a split second where Jim and Olu would thunder towards him and Ed would have to figure out how to block an incoming knife. But if he can survive that, maybe even injure one or more of them as they struggle to contain them, then he can work on cutting his binds. From there, if none of the other crew are close or quick enough to get to him, he can make a break for a dinghy, and maybe, just maybe, if enough of them are too inebriated from their party to man the canons or alter course, he’ll be able to row fast enough to get away. Not his best plan, really, but it could work. Probably. Maybe. Yeah.

He looks to Stede. Stede is once again wiping at his eyes.

“Well, that’s all I wanted to say, really. I suppose I should, uh, get out of your hair.” He moves awkwardly to stand and Edward’s chance is slipping away, and the Kraken and Blackbeard are screaming in his ears-

“No!” And Ed pulls his hand free and surges forward, (hears Jim shout, “Hijo de puta!” behind him) but instead of going for the knife, he twists his hands in Stede’s shirt and yanks him in with a surprised squeak.

For the third time in his life, Ed kisses Stede, but it is nothing of the gentleness of the first two- this is all force and teeth, and Ed’s hand feels dead and Stede groans in pain and needs to throw his one good arm against the mast to find some kind of balance, but they both keep going until they are forced apart by a need for air.

“No, shut up, but don’t leave me alone,” gasps Ed, “You stupid fucking idiot, you never should have left me on that dock. God I hate you.” He punctuates the you with another quick kiss to the corner of Stede’s now thoroughly stained lips. “You and your beautiful hands and face and clothes. Come closer, traitor, I’m not through with you!”

And they’re kissing again and grinning at each other, shifting into less awkward positions, and it’s glorious, until a shadow blocking the orange light of the now-setting sun falls upon them. Ed looks to see Jim and Olu standing over them, looking ready to intervene but holding themselves back.

“Sorry, need to interrupt here,” says Oluwande. “But we kinda need to know what’s happening now? Is this you cooperating, then?”

“I’m not gonna try to escape,” Ed says instantly, Stede whining when their lips break contact, “Or hurt anyone else, I promise. You can retie me if you want.” He pulls his free hand from where it had become tangled in Stede’s hair and raises it in surrender.

“Oh, pish posh, Ed!” says Stede with a breathless giggle. He’s practically in Ed’s lap now. “If anything, we need to be getting ropes off you, not putting more on!” His hand starts to move towards the knots.

“Not a good idea, Captain,” says Jim, glaring suspiciously at Ed and still very much holding their knife in plain view.

“Yeah, as much as you want to let him out, the rest of the crew won’t be so keen,” supplies Olu, “Might be best to keep him immobilised until we’re all sure, as a crew, you know. They might want to take a vote.”

“They’re right, Stede,” adds Ed, softly, gently lowering his hand to cup the man’s face. “I promise I’m not a danger anymore, but they’ll still think it for a while.”

Stede blinks, once, twice, thrice. Beautiful brown.

“Ah! Yes, that’s right, I wasn’t thinking there, was I?” he answers, his cheeks flushed.

“Not with your head brain anyway,” quips back Ed, lowly, and that draws a delighted laugh.

“Ok, well if you two are just gonna flirt instead of murdering each other, I think I’ll just go re-join the party,” Olu says. He gives Jim a peck on the cheek and a warm “See you later,” before saluting Stede and heading off.

“Well, if you’re planning on leaving his arm free, then I need you to give me your knife, Captain,” Jim states manner-of-factly, gesturing to Stede’s holster.

“What? Oh, I’d forgotten about that,” says Stede, handing it over quickly.

“I coulda stabbed you again with that, you know,” adds Ed, half-joking.

“I’m glad you didn’t. I’ve grown rather attached to this shirt. It’s not the finest, but it’s seen me well through the last few months.”

“I bet.”

“Oh madre de dios, I’m still going to be keeping watch so don’t try anything bad,” cries Jim, stomping back the way they came. “Or anything gross. I do not want to see or hear it!” They add over their shoulder.

Ed and Stede both laugh, and it feels like a fucking fantastic thing to do. Like a snake shedding it’s skin, all the bullshit and tension falls away, until all he can feel is Stede’s very real and warm and not ghostly presence shifting around him. The man climbs over Ed’s thigh and turns to settle cross legged with his back to the mast so they’re side by side, sighing.

“Big day,” he says. “I’m exhausted.”

“Yeah, same.”

Ed turns his head to get as much of Stede in his vision as possible. Stede, he thinks, and there’s a dopey smile on his face, and he’s thinking again.

Things like am I really this lucky and if someone had told me this morning I’d be here now I would have shot them and I wonder how often he’ll let me kiss him from now on, like, where would the limit be?

Stede’s fussing again at Ed’s bounds, finger fluttering across the fibre of the ropes and frowning. “They’re not too tight, are they, darling?” he asks. “I’m sure I could ask someone to loosen-”

“You’re not a defiler, Stede, so you better stop thinking that,” Ed says softly, reaching to gently press his hand over Stede’s heart, that he was now infinitely glad not to have stabbed. “Badminton was wrong, you’re a- fuck, I’m not good with metaphors- well, more like a gardener, I guess.”

Stede raises an eyebrow. “A gardener, you say? I’m afraid you’re going to have to elaborate on that one, Ed. If you mean dirty and ready for a bath, you’d be right in that sense.”

Ed could picture it in his mind clear as day- all things soft and beautiful and delightful came to life in Stede’s hands, growing under the care of that loving gaze, tenderly watered and weeded and guided to become it’s best. It was all those little things- reading stories to his crew at night, his boldness and quick wit inspiring such loyalty, the soft kindness that led him to delicately folding a piece of red silk into a pocket square. No doubt even the thorniest, ugliest plant would bend into place if it found itself in his garden.

And yeah, maybe a storm would roll through now and then, but Ed knew now that Stede would always find a way back to rebuild it, even from scratch. Because he was a fucking lunatic, really, but Ed liked that.

“Just like,” he gestures, trying to form his thoughts into words, “The way life grows around you, I guess. Your ship, your crew, me, you make us all flowers. Like you’re the sun and the rain and the soil too, and fuck I’m muddling the metaphor up now, aren’t I? Shouldn’t have tried.”

Stede laughs. “No, that’s very sweet. I see where you were going,” he sighs, long and tired, leans back into the mast, “But I’m afraid to say I am just a flawed man like any other. A man who’s made mistakes, and hopes to maybe make up for some of them, if you’d have me.”

Ed pauses, pretending to think. Yes, I very much would, in every way.

Aloud, he says, “Well, if you were serious about sticking around, I might just have a spot for you on my crew. Been meaning to take on more members lately.”

“How generous of you,” coos Stede. “Will I need a leather jacket to match the uniform?”

And isn’t that a tantalising thought.

They talk and it’s easy and light, free hands entwined and Stede leaning his head against Ed’s shoulder. They turn their gazes to the horizon, watching in awe as the sun sets in earnest through the railing of the ship, bathing everything in brilliant hues of orange and yellow.

When the cool of night starts to creep in, Stede leans up to kiss him again, and it’s everything Ed ever wanted. He kisses sweet and steady, until Edward Teach slowly starts to think that maybe he could be a beautiful thing after all, if Stede Bonnet could rise from the grave to tell him as such.

-

True story, I’m tired right now because I keep staying up into the wee hours of the morning reading blackbonnet fics bc I am apparently still the same feral fool I was as a teenager.

Also also also I got the breakup robe fabric so I’m gonna do a stede cosplay for a con in December im so excited!!!!

This turned out surprisingly sweet and nice (if a little angsty), considering how much gentlebeard porn I’ve been consuming lately. Don’t judge me, you’re doing the same.

Title from The Crane Wives 'Never Love An Anchor' bc there's an ofmd animatic for it and i love the song now.

[kharti]

[ Drown My Will to Fly #9 ]

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Jack’s hand landed on Izzy’s shoulder and squeezed. “So, First Mate, what do ya think we should do when we get to the next port?”

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Jack’s hand landed on Izzy’s shoulder and squeezed. “So, First Mate, what do ya think we should do when we get to the next port?”

Izzy tried to shrug him off, but the grip stayed firm.

“Aw, I thought we were gettin’ along?” Jack dug his fingers in just a little tighter. “Do I gotta tie you up to the mast again?”

Please.

“No,” Izzy growled and turned his head to glare up at him.

Jack’s brow raised, and then he laughed, his breath heavy with the stink of alcohol. “Almost forgot.” His hand moved from Izzy’s shoulder to grab his chin. “Can’t trust this pretty mouth of yours.”

Izzy swallowed. “Fuck off. I’m leaving.”

“Leaving?” Jack snorted and let go to put his hands on his hips. “What, ya gonna go for a swim until someone fishes you out?”

“I—”

The hand was back, but not on his throat. Jack grabbed his wrist instead, yanking him close, pressing his thumb right below his own.

“Do ya really want to leave, or are ya just trying to get me to beg you to stay?”

Izzy faltered while his eyes flicked across Jack’s face.

“’Cause I’m not gonna beg, but I will ask one question.”

Izzy forced his face into a careful, neutral contempt. “What?”

Jack leaned in with the sway of an intoxicated man, but eyes sobered with desire. His hands moved, letting go of Izzy’s wrist, and both landed on his chest.

“Lemme fuck these tits before ya leave.”

Izzy sputtered and took a step back, but the hands remained firmly on him, squeezing for emphasis.

“C’mon, just one farewell titty fuck. Ya don’t have to do anything except lie there and look pretty.”

“I—” Izzy slapped his hands away. “I’m a focking man.”

Jack grinned. “Tits are tits, and yours make me wanna fuck ‘em.”

“I don’t have tits.”

“Then ya won’t mind if I fuck what y’ain’t got, right?”

Izzy stared at him, at this man he’d mistakenly considered ‘close enough’ to Blackbeard.

They were absolutely nothing alike.

And fuck, he shouldn’t be—not when he was so irritated and not when he wanted to punch the man—he shouldn’t be so hard.

“Let’s see what your body says, since your mouth is a lying dickhole.” Jack winked as he reached down and grabbed the front of Izzy’s pants. “Get it? Dickhole. A hole for dicks.”

Izzy couldn’t respond when the whole of his focus went to where Jack was squeezing him, stroking him through the tight leather trousers.

“Aw, baby, why can’t ya just say it?” Jack stepped in closer, voice dropped lower. “Say ya want Daddy to cum on your tits. Paint ‘em real nice.”

“Fucking shut up,” Izzy rasped while his body betrayed him, arching into Jack’s touch and trembling at the knees.

Jack chuckled as he rubbed his thumb along the outline of Izzy’s cock. “Ya want me to take ya here on deck, or in my cabin?”

Izzy swallowed despite his dry mouth. His eyes darted to where the crew were watching, their gazes like sudden daggers to his throat.

Make them watch.

“Not here,” he managed to say through the arousal swimming around his veins.

Jack hummed. “That means ya want it right here for everyone to watch, right, baby?”

Izzy shivered as Jack loosened the front of his too-tight trousers. “Fucking—”

“But since yer gonna be on your back for a while, let’s get you on a bed.”

With a hand down his pants and wrapped around his cock, Jack forced him to follow along as he strode to his quarters, tugging and squeezing tight.

Izzy stumbled behind him, his eyes fluttering closed at the overwhelming sensation of being led by his dick.

Jack pulled Izzy into the room and kicked the door shut behind them, then started removing his own clothes. “C’mon, baby, show Daddy that pretty body of yours.”

He tried to protest, but there were no words. All he could think of was how desperately he needed this, to feel wanted. How he really did want Jack to beg him to stay.

“Are ya gonna make me do it?” Jack asked as he stepped out of his pants and stood in front of him, hands on his hips again.

Izzy’s eyes flicked of their own accord, taking in the round shape of the man, the hair that covered most of him like a second layer of clothes. And, of course, his gaze lingered just a moment too long on the thick, ruddy cock that jutted out and bobbed in the air.

“Take ‘em off,” Jack said with a low threat to his voice. “Or I’m tearing them apart, and all your other clothes, too.”

“Fine,” Izzy finally managed to get out, and he started to loosen his tie, his fingers trembling as they neared his own throat without touching it.

Jack’s gaze was heavy, following the slow exposure of skin, and once Izzy had his shirt unbuttoned, Jack took himself in hand and licked his lips as he stroked, slowly, leisurely.

“Yeah, that’s a good baby.” Jack grinned. “A shame ya want to leave. I had so many plans for you.”

Izzy’s hand stilled. “Plans?”

“Wanted to move ya in here so we could fuck every night.”

Izzy shivered as he tried not to react.

“Take ya to port and find someone ya liked enough to get spit-roasted.”

He stilled. “Spit-roasted?”

Jack’s grin widened, all teeth and a little bit of tongue as it ran between them. “Yeah, one of us up your ass and the other down your throat. Think ya’d look real good like that.”

Izzy nearly choked at the image filling his mind, and he glared. “You’re focking disgusting.”

Jack laughed and let go of his cock to grab Izzy’s instead, pressing his thumb to the leaking slit. “So are you, baby. So fucking wet at just the idea.” He stepped closer to slot their cocks together, gripping them both as his hand moved to stroke them. “Ya want it. Why can’t ya just say it?”

Because—

Izzy shuddered.

Because…

With his mind full of cocks filling him, with Jack’s hand stroking them, Izzy couldn’t string together enough coherent thought to know why he couldn’t speak.

So, he did.

“Because I—” His breath left him in a shuddering gasp as Jack thrusted against him, the hot flesh of his shaft almost too much.

“Yeah?” Jack leaned in and wrapped his lips around Izzy’s ear, teeth scraping along it.

“I’ve never—” Izzy went weak when the wet tip of Jack’s tongue slipped into his ear. “—never had to ask.”

Jack hummed as he pulled back and tilted his head to the side. “Problem with that, baby, is I’ll never know if stop means stop or ‘please, Daddy, fuck me harder’.”

Izzy felt his face go unbearably hot and he turned his head to the side. His lips parted, and he let out a small sound that was almost a word.

“Yeah?” Jack’s hand around them moved faster, as if in encouragement.

“I’m not… calling you that.”

Jack snorted.

“But…” Izzy sucked in a breath and, tentatively, he looked up at him and moved his own hips to push into Jack’s grip. “… fuck me.”

“God fucking—” Jack moved with surprising speed and strength, hoisting Izzy up with both arms around his middle. “—shit whore—” He stumbled them the length of the room and threw Izzy down onto the bed. “—fuck shit, damnit, say that again.”

Izzy nearly protested, but then Jack was on top of him, kissing and biting his neck, humping his leg like a mindless animal.

“Say it again, please, baby. Come on. Please.”

Jack was begging.

Begging him.

Izzy closed his eyes and lifted his arms, hesitated a moment longer, then wrapped them around the man as the words fell out of his mouth like a broken sob.

“Fuck me… please.”

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[whumperooni]

Imagine being such a perfect little angel for papa enji. Always taking care of him. Scrubbing him when he’s in the bath, rubbing his shoulders and drying him off when he gets out the bath. Maybe you even stroke his cock when he’s in there. When you go out with your friends for lunch, you always bring him something back like his favourite cake or something. You make sure he has dinner ready for him when he comes home, sitting in his lap and bouncing on his cock slowly as he eats. Sucking him off after a long day being a hero. Telling Daddy how much you love him, how you’ll always be his as he looks at you with a look that only a father can give his little girl. You always make sure his hero costume is clean and ready for work. You always do as daddy says and he loves his little girl for it 😭😭

Please this makes me so somft ♡

tags/warnings: tw incest, blowjobs, a touch of somft, tw grooming

♡♡♡♡♡

“Daddy, wait! I made you lunch!” Enji blinks and pauses in the doorway, head turning back to find his little girl bounding over to him. You’re still dressed in your bedclothes- a thin, silky nightgown and fuzzy slippers, a robe that’s slipped off your shoulder- and Enji huffs at that, huffs at the sleep that’s still written all over your face. You press a bento box into his hands and a kiss to his cheek- one that he returns with a grunt whenever you peer up at him with expectant, drowsy eyes. “Have a good day at work, daddy! I love you!” “I love you too, little one.”

➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺ “Aw, Endeavor, did your little girl make that for you? How cute.” Enji grunts and he shoulders away Hawks when the boy peers over his shoulder, ignores the pout that pops up on the hero’s face. “You’re so lucky! I want someone to make me lunch,” Hawks whines, trying to creep his hand over Enji’s other shoulder to grab the food. Enji scowls and he shoulders the boy away, finds himself curling protectively around his lunch as feathers begin to shiver. “Hey, come on- let me try a bite!” “No.” “You’re so stingy! That’s not befitting of the number one hero, ya know!” “You have your own lunch,” Enji points out in a snap. “Not one made with love and care! C’mon- just one bite!” “I said no.” Hawks huffs and he plops down next to Enji- crowding his space like he always does, obnoxious wings beating against Enji’s back and making him huff. A little smirk plays across the flame hero’s face as he watches the boy unwrap a store bought sandwich and the usual annoyance of crinkling cellophane goes unnoticed as Enji takes a bite of karaage. It’s delicious- as usual- and Enji smiles as he slowly eats the lunch his daughter had so lovingly prepared for him. ➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺ Hero work is good work- honorable work- but it leads to very long days. Enji is tired by the time he gets home- weary from a day full of catching bad guys and filing endless paperwork, dealing with the expectations of the public and the burden of self-righteousness. You greet him when he gets home as always- a tumbler of bourbon in your hands neat and so welcome, a smile on your face. The kiss you press to his cheek is soft and sweet and Enji hums as he returns it- lips brushing just against the corner of yours. “Daddy, how was your day?” “It was fine.” You nod, accepting that, and follow after him as he heads toward the den- your soft footsteps lost under the sounds of his thundering ones. Enji sits himself in his armchair and you take your rightful place on his lap- hand lightly landing on his chest and your gaze fond as you watch him take a drink. “I made udon tonight, daddy,” you tell him, hand working up to loosen his tie and undo one button, two. Enji hums as your fingers stroke over the scarred, bared flesh of his chest and takes another drink, allows his lashes to lower. “But I can draw you a bath first if you want to relax before dinner.” A bath does sound good- it’s just what he needs to unwind after a long day. “I’d like that, little one.” Your face lights up and you nod- only getting up after you press another adoring kiss to his cheek. Enji watches you leave- dress swishing along your thighs- and he slowly drains the rest of his bourbon, allows himself to relax in the comfort of his home. He has such a good daughter. It’s such a shame that the others can’t be like you. ➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺ “Is it warm enough, daddy?” Enji hums in response- eyes opening and flitting to the side to drink in the sight of you knelt by the bathtub. You have a smile on your face- soft and content- and your hands are just as soft as they run over his body, wash him off with a gentle touch. No one else has ever treated him the way you do- with pure admiration and respect, a never-ending love and a sweet, subservient adoration. You treat him kindly, wonderfully and he knows deep in his heart that he doesn’t deserve it. He accepts it all the same, though. “I’m going to do the shopping tomorrow,” you murmur- fingers kneading along his bicep and working up to his shoulders. You rise, just slightly, with it and Enji’s eyes draw half-shut as your bosom presses against him. “Can I pick anything up for you?” “No, but I need my suit taken to the dry cleaners.” “The navy one? I’ll drop it off.” Enji nods and you hum softly, press against him more as you reach over to his other shoulder. He enjoys your gentle ministrations and he relaxes under your touch, relaxes more when your nails gently scratch through the hair at the base of his skull. “Daddy, do you want me to shave you tonight?” you ask, fingers glancing along his jaw and over the stubble gathered there. “I sharpened your straight razor.”

Enji considers the idea- he does enjoy it; he enjoys the intimacy of the moment, the look of concentration that graces your face, and how you touch him as if you’re afraid that you’ll hurt him- as if you somehow truly believe that your tiny hands could possibly do harm to your six and a half feet tall, built like a brick house, number one hero father. It’s amusing, really.

You’re amusing. “You can do it in the morning,” Enji decides on, leaning back against the bath. Another hum and your hands move down over his chest, glide in slow circles to lather him up. You wash him attentively- loving and sweet with your gentle touches- and Enji nearly sighs at the quiet contentment flaring in his chest, at the fondness that he will never admit he feels out loud. Your hands work over his cock- soft and sweet- and Enji shakes his head when you look up at him, rumbles out a “later” that you simply nod at. “Okay, daddy.” You go back to washing him and Enji closes his eyes, tilts his head back and soaks in your touch, allows himself to feel satisfied over just how well he’s raised you. ➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺ “Daddy, was dinner okay?” “It was good, little one.” A smile pops onto your face and Enji nearly smiles back, hides it with a draw from his cigar. You’re perched on his lap again- dressed in his favorite nightgown, his hand on your soft thigh. You’ve taken a bath of your own and Enji can smell the scent of your shampoo, the light fragrance of your lotion. When he rubs over your thigh, your lashes flutter and his own draw half-shut whenever you curl a little closer. Such a good girl- so loving and kind, so receptive to your father. A darling daughter, a perfect little housewife for him.

You’re the last bit of kindness that Rei graced him with. He should do more for her, thank her more sincerely for gifting him with a beautiful daughter to dote and protect, cherish and fuck and use to soothe all the stress of his career, your less ideal siblings.

Enji takes another draw from his cigar and he squeezes the plush flesh of your hip, relaxes back into the chair as his cock stirs. “Little one.” A blink, a smile up at him, a soft little hum and a brush of your thighs. You nuzzle against him and the soft “yes, daddy?” you let out sets something hungry in his chest, hardens his cock to full mast. “Take care of daddy,” he tells you- casual, eyes running over you and flicking away as he ashes his cigar. “Put your pretty mouth to work.” A tiny noise bubbles from your throat and you nod- lips pressing to his jaw before you slide off Enji’s lap and onto your knees. When his legs part, you shuffle forward and Enji watches as you tuck your hair behind your ear, takes a puff from his cigar when your hands smooth over his thighs and deftly take out his cock. The lick you give has him exhaling deeply and Enji reaches down to pet over your hair as you place open mouthed kisses to his cock, brushes a few strands from your face. You nuzzle into his palm just for a moment- adoring and sweet- and Enji hums when your soft lips graze over the head of his cock, part wider to take him into your mouth. “Good girl.” Lashes fluttering, you mewl around him and Enji soaks in the way your cheeks flush, the way your tongue flicks across his head as you pull off to look up at him an adoring gaze. “I love you daddy,” you whisper- hand wrapping around his cock. “I love you too, little one.” Smiling, you take his cock back into your mouth and Enji’s fingers curl into your hair, his lips flicker with a smile as his sweet daughter swallows him down all the way to the base, lifts a hand to gently rub his balls. Enji smokes and he slowly pets over his daughter’s hair- utterly relaxed and completely content as you take care of your father in the only way a good daughter can.

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[krisiverse]

Staring at the Sun [Link/Tetra]

Rating: T (for swearing)

Word Count: 2246

Summary: Link is so in love with Tetra it hurts, both figuratively and literally. But she only seems concerned when it starts interfering with his work on the ship. He has to figure out how to get a grip on his feelings, or else lose himself in them entirely.

Read on AO3

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There was a storm on the way.

Already the clouds blotted out the sun overhead, and thunder rolled in the distance. The winds were still, but Link could feel they wouldn't be for long.

He was in the middle of reefing the mainsail, making sure it couldn't be caught in the strong winds of the storm— captain's orders. And though he didn't quite see the point of it if he could direct the wind, he trusted her experience and judgement.

And speaking of the captain… there she was, like the sun through the clouds herself. Forgetting his work, Link watched as Tetra walked about the deck, checking over the crew's work and making adjustments where necessary. She was so sure in the way she carried herself, and that went double when she was working on the ship. The sheer strength she showed in pulling the line taut, the confidence of her practiced movements tying it secure in little more than a moment… It was nothing short of breathtaking.

While Link was distracted, a sharp gust caught the sail he was supposed to be tying up, and it snatched the rope clean from his hand. He lost his balance, falling to the deck where he lay in an undignified sprawl.

He could hear Tetra walking towards him. He wasn't sure if that made things better or worse.

"Link?"

"Mmn?"

"You alright?"

"Mmyeah," he mumbled into the deck. His pride was more hurt than anything, really.

"That's good. Get up," she told him, and he did, rubbing his arm that had taken most of the impact.

Tetra was silent for a bit, as if struggling to figure out what to say. After a moment she spoke.

"Look, Link. I've seen how you look at me, and I'm flattered, really— but you can't let this distract you from your job. You have to focus on the task at hand, before you or someone else gets seriously hurt. Understand?"

"Yes, Captain."

"I don't want to do this, but if this keeps up I'm going to have to move you to second watch so you can concentrate."

Link's breath caught in his chest. It felt as if someone had reached in to grab his heart and squeeze it as tightly as they could. Working second watch would mean he'd never be off at the same time as anyone from the first watch. That meant everyone in the crew he was familiar with. That meant Tetra.

"Do you understand, Link?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Is that what you want?"

He hung his head. "No, Captain."

"I'm sorry it has to be this way, Link. But we can't afford distractions. You have a job to do, and so do I."

"I understand," said Link, and he did. "…With all due respect, miss, it would have hurt less if you'd thrown me overboard."

Tetra laughed at that. It was a beautiful sound, honest and unafraid and sweeter than honey. "You'll be fine, loverboy, you've made it through worse. Now get back up there and finish what you started, alright?"

"…Yeah."

As she walked away, Link stole one last glance after her, before sighing and turning back to the mast. The winds were picking up, and the unsecured side of the sail he was supposed to tie up was flapping in the breeze.

It took a long moment for him to gather the strength to pull himself back up and continue with his work.

–––

It had been two weeks since Link had gotten distracted and fallen from the mast. Two weeks since Tetra had called him out for staring at her so much, two weeks he avoided looking at her whenever he could, because he knew if he did it'd be next to impossible to tear his gaze away. No one else had gotten hurt since then; at least, not physically, but there was an ache in Link's chest that wouldn't go away. Now, he and Tetra were working together to tar the lines, which left them far too close together and gave him far too much time to think about it.

To distract himself from his thoughts, he asked, "How much longer do you think we'll be out here?"

"There's really no way of knowing. It could be a few days, or we could keep sailing the rest of our lives without finding anything."

"Oh, is it that simple? Let me mark my calendar," Link snapped. He felt Tetra shift next to him, and when he glanced up, she was looking at him with concern. "…What? What is it?"

"That wasn't like you at all, Link. What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" Link echoed. "What's wrong is— is I don't know what's wrong. I should be happy, right? We're on an adventure, sailing across the ocean to find new land, just like I've dreamed about ever since I can remember. There are so many amazing things in store for us, it's new, it's exciting, but instead I'm feeling shitty and awful for no damn reason."

"Maybe it's just stress from sailing for so long," Tetra suggested. "It can get to even the most seasoned sailors."

Link considered that for a moment. He knew it could be that simple, but… "That doesn't feel right. I think it's something else."

Tetra didn't get the chance to say anything to that before the bell rang out eight times, marking the end of their watch. She stood and stretched while Link finished up what they were doing, then he followed suit.

"Is it just me, or are those getting shorter?" He asked.

"It's just you. You're getting more used to working with us on the ship, loverboy."

Link tensed. He knew the nickname was supposed to be affectionate (—wasn't it? maybe he was misinterpreting things—) but at the moment, it felt more patronizing than anything. He fixed his gaze on the deck and said nothing. He knew he could look at her, but somehow it felt like he wasn't allowed.

"Still not feeling great, huh?" Tetra asked, a note of sympathy —that was sympathy, right?— in her voice. "Let's head to my quarters, we can talk more there."

Link's brain practically stopped working at that. He had to forcibly remind himself that it didn't mean anything, that he had to stop thinking about Tetra that way. She just said she wanted to talk, that's all, it wasn't her fault he wanted to kiss her more than he wanted anything else in the world.

"Yeah," he said, though it came out somewhat strained. "Let's do that."

She led the way to her cabin and Link followed behind, his brain too busy to do much else. Once they were there, she sat on the bed and left him to just stand and look around. This was only the second time he'd been in here, the first time being only a quick peek long ago when he'd snuck onto the ship to steal bombs and his curiosity had gotten the better of him. Now that he had the chance to look around properly, and now that he knew Tetra better, it made him ache. It was all just… so her.

"Link… Are you upset with me?"

"What?" He blinked in complete shock. Where did that come from? "No, of course not. What gave you that idea?"

"You haven't been looking at me recently… I thought it was because I was too hard on you the other day. I'm sorry about that."

"No, that's not it. It's because you told me not to let myself get distracted, so, I've been trying hard not to."

"There's nothing here to be distracted from."

"Except breathing."

She let out a laugh; even her voice was so beautiful, he couldn't escape. "Link, come on."

He took a breath, like he was about to dive underwater, and lifted his gaze to meet hers. Her eyes were blue like the ocean, like sapphires, like the summer sky on the day they'd met; her skin, a sun-kissed golden brown dotted with countless scars and freckles. He wanted so badly to run his fingers along them, to trace constellations between and navigate by the stars of her sky. She was smiling at him, softly, and he longed to find out if her lips were as soft as they looked…

"You're so beautiful," he breathed, because looking at her how could he say anything else?

"You really think so?"

"Of course I do. You..." He struggled to find the words to describe just what he saw in her. "You—you're like the sun and the stars to me, you shine so bright and so beautiful and when you're around I can hardly think about anything else. It's just… too much for me, I'm too hopelessly in love."

She laughed again, but this time, Link felt some part of him splinter and break. "You're so cute—"

"It's not a joke, Tetra!"

The smile vanished from her face. He hadn't meant to yell so loud, but he couldn't find it in himself to regret it. Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes, and his hands shook.

"I love you so much it hurts. And you know how I feel about you, and you keep treating it like— like the world's biggest fucking joke. I tell you how I feel and you laugh in my face. " He took a shuddering breath. He could tell Tetra was staring at him, but he couldn't make out her expression, he was crying too hard. "And— and you keep teasing me, and leading me on, you keep acting like you, like you have feelings for me, too, but then you always back off and leave and I just… just tell me! Quit playing with my feelings and just tell me you don't like me back so I can stop wasting my fucking time!"

Link dissolved into a coughing fit, punctuated by sobs. His chest and throat hurt so much from screaming like that— but worse was that he'd probably just ruined his friendship with Tetra for good. It was selfish of him to expect her to feel the same way he did, wasn't it? And yelling at her over it was even worse.

He was so ready for her to kick him out of her cabin, to tell him she didn't owe him anything, to drop him off in his little sailboat and leave him all on his own. He wasn't ready for what she did instead, which was to take his hand and gently brush the tears from his face.

"It's okay, Link… It's okay," she assured him. But then before he had the chance to recover, she added, "But I do actually like you back."

"What," he said flatly. Then, at a higher pitch, "Why the fuck would you say something like that?"

"What??"

"You can't just— you can't just say that and make it all better!"

"Link, I—"

"If anything this is worse! Because if you really felt the same way about me then why—"

"Link." She interrupted him, clearly exasperated. "Can you please just listen for a moment?"

Link fell silent. Tetra tugged at his hand, guiding him to sit on the bed beside her.

"I do return your feelings," she said. "But we can't be in a relationship, not while I'm captain of this ship. There's no way for it to be balanced while I'm still the boss of you, and I can't give you the time and attention you deserve when I have this to worry about. It wouldn't be fair to you."

"Okay." Now that he was hearing the actual explanation, that made a lot of sense.

"But, I didn't realize I was already being unfair to you by leading you on. I'm really sorry for that… I promise I'll stop teasing you from now on."

"The teasing is fine! It's… it's already a lot better just knowing where you're coming from with that, you know?"

"Alright, I'll stay the course, then." She smiled. "And as for seriously being together… We can discuss that more once we find land, alright?"

"Yeah." He rested his head against her shoulder for just a moment, before he thought of something. "Though if it could be years before we find it, like you said… How about a kiss to tide me over 'til then?"

"You really are a bold son of a bitch, aren't you?" Tetra chuckled and shook her head. "Alright. One kiss, that's all you get. Better make it count."

When Link didn't act, she did instead, cupping his face in her hand and leaning in to press her lips to his and gods it was everything he'd imagined and more, it felt soft and warm and right like sunlight made solid and he never wanted this moment to end. He wrapped his arm around her back to pull her in closer and kiss her as deeply as he could. He couldn't care less that he didn't know how to kiss someone, because all that mattered was her with him right here and now.

It ended too soon —but really even if it never ended it would've been too soon— and he flopped backwards onto the bed. There he simply lay and stared at the ceiling, totally starstruck.

"You good there, loverboy?"

"I think I can die happy now."

"You better not!" Tetra objected and jabbed him in the side. Link burst out laughing, and then Tetra did, too; and in that moment, everything was perfect.

[the-mad-starker]

StarkerFestivals Holiday Exchange: Good Omegas

For @kingnorth​, So this fill is mostly cock stupid cumslut omega Peter but I also took something from the other prompts to come up with this 😅 I hope you like it 💗

Summary: 

Good omegas obey their alphas. Even tied up with a gag and blindfold, good omegas obey. Peter wants to prove he's a good omega.

WC: 2661

(AO3 Link)

Notes: Bondage, a/b/o dynamics, omega Peter, alpha Tony, heat cycles, facial, some dirty talk (also the bondage in here is realllly superficially researched so please don't come after me 😱) also, position is loosely based on this reference pic Here for how Peter's tied up

❄️❄️❄️

Caught up in numbers and equations, it was easy for Tony's brain to push aside any distractions. It was only when the soft whimpers grew louder that the alpha finally turned away from the monitor and looked to the side where his favorite spiderling was bound and waiting.

Peter made such a pretty sight, smooth, lovely skin flushed pink. The omega had been stripped completely, naked except for the red bands that kept him tied up, pretty as a picture. Bold and beautiful, they tied his arms behind his back and connected with similar bands that bound his ankles to his thighs, leaving his immobile and hogtied on the floor. Red was such a vibrant and attention-grabbing color. It suited Tony but seeing his color on the sweet omega was a far better picture. 

Around his head, Tony's tie was secured over his eyes. From where he sat, Tony could even see where the tears soaked into the fabric and turned it into a darker red. The color matched the boy's pretty lips even while they were stretched around a ball gag.

The alpha wasn't too worried even though the boy was increasingly begging for his attention the longer he was kept there. The position wasn't the most comfortable but Tony's nanotech would adjust to Peter's needy little squirming to a certain point. For someone like Spider-Man who had such a bendy little body, it wasn't too much of a hardship.

No, the reason his pretty little omega was crying for him was because he wanted to get fucked. Tony was several feet away from the boy but even that short distance was too much. It was enough to have Peter try to entice him closer Once the alpha came closer, it'd be easier for him to seduce Tony and get what he really wanted. 

The alpha's cock.

Tony remained where he sat although once he was reminded of the visual his mentee made, his cock started hardening in his pants. The boy couldn't see him anyway so Tony felt completely at ease about bringing a hand to his cock.

"What's wrong, kid?" Tony asked, voice low and intimate, as he started to touch himself over his clothing. It felt good to acknowledge the building pressure in his body. "It hasn't even been ten minutes and you're already hopeless."

The omega's restless wiggling stopped as he listened to Tony speak. His entire body trembled from the heat and his scent was enough to intoxicate alphas from miles away. It was good that Tony's labs were scentproof, as well as soundproof.

When Tony didn't continue, the omega grew restless once more. A soft noise escaped the bound boy but Tony wasn't taking the bait just yet.

Instead, the alpha started unzipping his pants. Peter jerked as though he'd been slapped. Without the boy's loud whimpering, the sound of the zipper being pulled down made it clear just what Tony was doing. Peter recognized that sound and trembled from the implication.

"You know," Tony sighed as he looked at the omega with hungry eyes. "I didn't expect it of you, kid. Didn't think you'd have the balls to come here… Stinking of heat and fuck me pheromones… Oh, fuck… Already so fucking hard and it's your damn fault..."

Tony had been caught off guard when the boy showed up, literally presenting himself as a sweet little morsel for the alpha to devour. 

It was too easy to believe that he was an innocent victim to biology just like Tony.

But Peter was an omega and omegas like him were dangerous with their sweet scents capable of scrambling an alpha's mind. Wide-eyed with color creeping up his neck, the beginnings of a heat just setting in… Peter had grabbed onto the older man and clung to him with pleading eyes as though he wasn't dripping wet between his thighs and begging to be fucked.

Tony had resisted all the others in the past but Peter… He couldn't resist Peter. He didn't want to. But that didn't mean he had to give in right then and there. No, he was going to give the sweet boy what he wanted but on his terms.

If Peter wanted Tony Stark as his mate, he was going to have to earn it. He'd have to take the full brunt of Tony's desire that had built up over years and years of restraint, of knowing that touching Peter, sweet, innocent Peter, would've been the worst thing to happen to either of them.

Because Tony would never let him go once he did.

The alpha's cock was dripping for the boy. Big, fat, cloudy beads formed at the tip and dribbled down the thick hot length. He squeezed the tip and more slid down, leaving trails of glistening wetness to cover his cock.

Tony was producing so much precum, his body getting ready to fuck. To breed. He had never felt like this until Peter came into his life, into his territory, that brilliant spark of sharp intelligence glazing over with the savage hunger of heat.

"Mmph–" Peter made a soft protest, muffled around the gag. He could hear the distinctive sound of flesh on flesh, Tony jerking off as he watched the omega writhe against the bonds.

That sound, amongst all others, made something inside the alpha snap.

Tony got up and his cock was heavy enough that it didn't stand straight up. Instead, it swayed between his thighs, thick and undeniable, as he walked over to the bound boy.

Peter's fuck me pheromones assaulted him the closer he got and a lesser alpha would've just mounted the boy right then and there. Pressed the boy's face to the cool tiles of Tony's lab with the alpha himself rutting into him, hard and fast.

Tony didn't doubt for a minute that that wasn't what Peter wanted. The boy would be drooling around the gag, mindless and straight up drunk off getting his first alpha cock.

With a grunt, Tony grabbed those precious curls and urged the boy to his knees. Peter whimpered but he was so pliant, so willing to obey to get what he wanted.

Then, as though to make up for his rough behavior, Tony gently removed the tie.

There was a glassy sheen to Peter's eyes as he blinked in the dim light. Then those eyes of his focused, the black expanding hungrily as he was met with the alpha's cock right in front of his face. He strained forward, against Tony's grip, as though he wasn't currently gagged and could take the alpha's cock into his mouth.

"Ahh… mmm…" He still couldn't talk but he didn't need to. Tony knew what he wanted to say.

Alpha.

"Look at you…" Tony murmured, completely transfixed on his heat addled protege. "Smartest omega in the world… Could probably break these bonds like matchsticks and here you are… Drooling for my cock. Letting yourself be bound and tied up like this… Just so you can taste my cum, huh?"

Peter whimpered but he didn't deny it. Didn't shake his head. He slowly leaned forward and this time, Tony loosened his grip and let the boy nuzzle against his dripping cock.

The way Peter's eyes drooped to half-mast and the soft, desperate little moan… He was getting a good dose of Tony's scent, getting wetter and wetter just by breathing him in.

"Slutty little omega," Tony cooed, petting the boy's hair back to get a better look at his face. "Slutty little cumdump. You'd let me fuck you… Let me knot this pretty mouth of yours… You'd let me do all that without a mating bite, won't you?"

A sharp inhale was his answer, the boy's eyes widening with the proposition. They both wanted more than that but with Peter as he was, he wouldn't turn down Tony's offer. 

The answer was clear. 

Yesyesyes. 

He'd let Tony do it. Let the older man defile his body, his hole, his mouth…

Tony's mouth curled up into a pleased smile, his own gaze lowering to the boy's lips.

Peter didn't have those big pouty lips that were often featured on magazines whenever people praised soft omega features. They were thin and often chapped, something Tony noticed early on. It still didn't stop the alpha from wanting to see them bruised from his teeth or wrapped sweetly around his cock.

He caressed the boy's cheek, thumb brushing over the strap that held the gag in place. Peter turned towards his hand and nuzzled against his palm, beseeching for more.

"Oh, sweetheart… What a mess you've found yourself in," Tony sighed, his subconsciously swaying towards the boy. "But you're gonna have to be a good omega for me. Are you a good omega, baby?"

Peter nodded eagerly, doe eyes pleading for Tony's praise but the alpha just continued talking.

"We'll see, won't we? First, I'm gonna wreck this pretty mouth of yours," Tony told him softly, "and you're gonna let me. You're just gonna be a nice wet hole for my cock, okay, baby? Maybe once I clear my head, I'll fuck that needy hole of yours. Maybe even give you that knot you're crying about."

Tony knew Peter wanted to protest. He could see it in the way the boy trembled, that desperate need to get fucked overriding logical sense. Instead, he heeded Tony's words and melted into his touch, lashes drifting closed as he accepted his fate.

That was all Tony needed to start.

He didn't even need to activate his armor to haul the boy into the air. His muscles strained to do it but Peter was on the lighter build for omegas. He fit perfectly in Tony's arms.

It only took a moment for Tony to reach his destination. The setup had been created while Tony worked and Peter was made to wait.

He set Peter down in the middle of the lab and commanded his nanotech to work. It was often hard for people to grasp the concept of his nanotechnology but what was known only scratched the surface of their capabilities. Whenever they thought about it, they imagined the hard, unforgiving metal that made up his suits. They didn't think about how it was flexible or how it could change and bend to Tony's will.

Tony didn't need rope to haul the boy up into the air. The nanotech simply melded with the supple bands binding the boy and designed like this… It was everything he needed. It attached to a secure ring hanging from the ceiling, slowly shortening in length until Peter hung suspended in the air at just the right height. And because Tony didn't want to break his new omega, he added even more support to lessen the strain on the boy's body, more bands crossing over pale, flushed skin and joining to the ring.

He would need that support for what Tony was planning to do.

"Comfy?" Tony murmured as he petted Peter's hair.

The expression on Peter's face was one of awe and unrestrained eagerness. He knew what was coming.

Slowly but gently, Tony undid the gag and let it fall to the floor with a thunk. Like a good boy, Peter kept his mouth open, his pink little tongue just waiting for Tony's cock. His eyes fluttered closed as he gave himself to his alpha.

A pleased purr rumbled in Tony's chest as he moved closer, angling his aching cockhead to the boy's lips.

"That's it…" Tony hissed as he finally got to press his cock inside a nice warm hole. The thick mushroom shaped tip of his cock was already enough to stuff Peter's mouth full. "That's it, baby… Suck on alpha's cock…"

The boy couldn't help moaning as he tried. His lips stretched over Tony's tip and he sucked, sloppy and unrefined, just desperate to please his alpha. Regardless of technique or finesse, it still felt like heaven to the older man.

Tony's hips stuttered forward, intent on burying his cock down to the root. He wanted every inch in Peter's mouth, wanted the boy to take everything in until that cute little nose of his was buried in the short curls of Tony's groin.

"You can do better, kid…" Tony panted as he curled his fingers into Peter's hair, pulling him closer. "Gotta show me what a good omega you are… Gotta show alpha you can take all of it…"

Peter tried so hard, Tony could see how hard the boy tried. His brows were pinched together in concentration and his tears were gleaming in the corner of his eyes. His tongue writhed beneath the heavy weight of Tony's erection even as his cheeks hollowed in an attempt to suck him in.

He took the steady push of cock as best as he could and Tony did his best not to choke him with it. They'd play with that another time. Slow and steady, Tony fucked the boy's mouth, edging more and more of his length inside that lovely warmth.

With Peter suspended in the air, Tony was able to use it to rock the boy back and forth on his cock. Tony established a rhythm, fucking Peter's mouth and moaning over how fucking good it felt.

"That's it, Pete…" Tony groaned when the omega dutifully swallowed him down. The boy peered at him through his lashes, so beautiful with Tony's cock in his mouth. "So good, baby… Took every inch like a good omega…"

Tony licked his lips and felt that undeniable hunger to do more. To really fuck the boy's mouth.

"Now… Now, alpha's show you the next step…" Tony grunted as he started to really push and pull the boy into his cock. "Alpha's gonna need to fuck this mouth every day. Gotta make sure you can take it whenever I want it. Ugh, that's it, baby… Relax that throat… Let alpha fuck it just like this…"

Peter whimpered around his mouthful. His eyes were squeezed shut as Tony made good use of his mouth. In between the gasps of air and dirty moans, Tony heard that oh so distinctive sound of someone struggling to take it, grunts mixed with soft choking sounds.

The omega looked up at him, cock stupid and still begging for a taste of Tony's cum.

He gave it to him.

The alpha held the boy's face tight as he bottomed out. He grunted, his cock thickening and growing even more, encased as it was in the boy's throat. Peter's lips brushed against the knot and he whined, wanting that, too.

"Good omega…" Tony groaned. Peter didn't struggle, didn't fight against his alpha. He let Tony do whatever he wanted to him and even now, mouth full of cock, he only wanted to please the older man.

With a snarl, Tony pulled out and let loose on the boy's astonished face. Load after load, he spilled all that creamy essence across Peter's face, marking the omega as his.

Peter moaned in rapture, tongue hanging out and spit dripping down his chin and the corner of his lips. He was a mess, a beautiful mess, and Tony only made it worse.

The alpha's cum spilled all over his face. There was a shot of cum across the bridge of his nose. More dripped from his eyebrow and spilled down on his cheek. And of course, there was a good helping in his mouth.

Like a good boy, Peter held his alpha's cum, waiting with a fervent gaze as Tony took in his handwork. His omega was still hard, his cocklet leaking between his legs. Good.

Tony swiped his cum along the boy's mouth with his cum wet tip, adding more glaze to that pretty mouth.

"Lick every drop," Tony said, shivering when the boy's tongue slid out and swiped at the tip with hungry kittenish licks. "Good… Swallow it all down, baby. Get every single drop."

And like a good omega, Peter did. 

[emotionalsupportbun-chan]

i'm talkin WIP WIP WIP thats a work in progress

cw: sub Daigo, dom Ryuji, praise kink, hand jobs, feelings

You Look Pretty with Your Mouth Hanging Open

He is sitting in the back of some no name cabaret, eyes glazed into the middle distance. A woman, unpretty enough for her name to get lost in the back of his mind, clings to his arm. She’s telling him about an expensive watch at Le Marche - something jewel toned and European. Like what decorates the wrists of half the girls in Kamurocho. Dime-a-dozen.

But he’s not hearing the plain-ish hostess beg for trinkets. Or at least not listening to her. He lets his boys do that, and splash out on expensive affirmations of counterfeit love. He didn’t need that. To be reminded that anything he got here was a pleasant imitation at best.

And you think it was different with him? You think he loved you?

No, but at least there was no pretense otherwise. 

“Hey, Aniki. We have time for another bottle, right?” This one - Hiroki? - is getting an eye full of tit and an expensive earworm.

Daigo looks down at the half empty glass of half-water whisky in his hand. The color is hatefully reminiscent. He knocks it back and leaves the glass coasterless on the cheap table. “Yeah, sure. Why not.”

-

He finds solipsism near the end of the third bottle. He is younger. He is full of piss and vinegar. He wants to take the world and crumble it between his teeth. There are no hostess clubs or expensive European watches.

But there are hands that tame him from time to time. Hands that weave his hair tight between their fingers. Hands the prise open his jaw, relieve the pressure on his world-crumbling teeth, and pull sighs and moans and Yes, sirs from his throat.

And there is a mouth with a scar in the corner that he traces with his tongue. A mouth that cracks open his skull and relieves the pressure on his world-weary mind with cock-throbbing Good boys.

Of course there have been hands and mouths since. Hands and mouths that repeat the refrain, sing the same chorus and bridge. But out of key. Octaves too high.

You’re just upset he gets your engine going hotter than any hostess could.

And?

But.

But?

The last fill station was a hundred kilometers ago. And you can’t conceive of another showing up any time soon.

He is jostled by an elbow to the side, still preoccupied with hands and mouths and cars and songs. “You good, bro?”

His glass is empty and so is bottle three. His gut is left full of liquor that feels like it’s trying to rot out the bottom. “Yeah, fine.” The response is far away, half way out the door already. Looking back to ask if they’d paid the bill yet.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. No, really. I’m great.”

Can’t even muster up a smile.

For lack of liquor, Daigo chewed ice until the check came.

-

The door is only a few dozen feet away, but he is full of feelings and fire water. Cotton head, cotton mouth, cotton heart. Only a teenage eternity faking sober to see him through. Concentrate.

What, hear that?

What?

That voice.

From a private room nearby. Bass-low, strutting around like it owns the joint. Peacocking. He’d know it anywhere.

There it is. Last stop for who knows how long.

But why is he here?

Does it matter? Think about it.

Don’t think about it. He’d never live down walking out of here with a half-mast cock.

From what? A memory? Of being on your knees while he drips cigarette-flavored spit from his pretty lips into your mouth?

He centers himself with a hard breath through the nose.

Think of it as motivation.

“Hey, you coming or what?” The others are paces ahead. He’s been loitering near the short hall to the private rooms for an embarrassingly long time.

Now or never. What’s it gonna be?

Beat.

Well?

“Yeah, uh. I just gotta, uh, piss first.” He slips into the hall before any response, knowing full well the bathrooms were upstairs.

Attaboy.

His honey voice fades in and out with laughter and exclamation. It makes Daigo’s palms sweat. His pulse quicken.

What if he tells you to go fuck yourself, huh? What then?

Maybe that would be a mercy. Maybe if he couldn’t have him forever, he shouldn’t have him at all.

What if he doesn’t even remember you?

Worse. To become insignificant to the best thing he’d ever had.

What happened to not loving him?

He didn’t. Doesn’t. It wasn’t love, it was peace. Not romance, but oblivion. Emptiness.

Freedom.

Looks like you’ve got it all figured out.

Someone had left the door to their room open. There are fewer people than Daigo expects. Three, four. And him at the center of it all. The sun, cock-sure with an ugly hostess petting his chest.

Now what? You gonna go in there and beg?

No.

He’d like that. You’d like that.

No. Something else.

Please sir, can I have some more?

Something else.

Daigo rubs his hands on his jeans and screws his face into something akin to a scowl. He doesn’t fill the doorway. “Ryuji Goda, what the fuck are you doing in Kamurocho?” His voice doesn’t fill the words either. It’s false confidence.

“Haw?” His mouth - dangerous, exciting, the second best part of him - pulls into a signature sneer. “And who the fuck is asking?”

And so the worst has come to pass.

No, maybe he’s just putting on a show for the boys. Daigo can play along.

“I am.”

“And who are you?” No hesitation. Unflustered.

The same could not be said of Daigo, who searches his face for any spark of recognition. Anything. Anything to alleviate the growing, gnawing pit eroding his chest.

It takes everything he has not to say ‘They guy who’s had your cock in his mouth more times than you can count’ or ‘The guy who used to let you blow his back out daily’.

Instead he says nothing and leaves with a muttered ‘whatever’. There is nothing productive to be had in the exchange. Nothing to gain, but so much to lose.

Poor, poor Daigo. But you were prepared for this, remember?

A likely story. A convenient lie. He isn’t sure that had even been possible.

-

He is puking in the back of some no name alley off east Taihei, drink having finally caught up to him. Red eyed and snotty, he remembers the first time he’d gagged on cock, when Ryuji’d gotten impatient and shoved it half way down his throat. He hadn’t puked then but he’d wanted to, more out of revenge than anything else. And the thought of the words that’d follow the act of returning all the cum he’d swallowed to its rightful owner.

But he hadn’t. He’d let Ryuji fuck his mouth, whispering soft affirmations.

‘Good boy, take it.’

‘You can do it.’

‘That’s it.’

Later he’d said how he’d liked the way it made Daigo’s eyeliner run. How he’d liked seeing the strings of spit and cum the stretched between Daigo’s mouth and the head of his cock after he’d finished and pulled out of his throat.

You’ll never find another one like him.

Yeah.

Take a minute, mourn the loss.

Yeah.

Unless…

Unless?

Stiff-soled shoes power down the alley behind him. They pause - there was the hesitation - before a large hand sweeps up into the hair on the back of his head to grip it just tight enough. He pulls Daigo’s head back, leaving his throat open and bare.

Just like old times.

Daigo is still in puking position - half-bent, hands braced against the grimy wall - so Ryuji towers over him. By the hair, he pulls Daigo up, other arm wrapping around his chest. Keeping him close. Holding him tight enough for Daigo to know he hadn’t really forgotten.

Exactly like old times.

“Ya always did like to play hard-to-get, Daigo-chan.” Ryuji all but whispers the words into his skin, letting the bass of his voice rumble through his chest and into Daigo’s. “I’m real sorry I had to scare ya off earlier, but ya didn’t have to wander so far.” He sets his teeth against the skin of Daigo’s neck. Just a little pressure. Just enough to thrill.

So how are we feeling about this?

“Please -” is all Daigo can manage, and just barely.

Guess you’ll have to unpack this later.

“Damn. Missed me that much, huh? Sweet boy, ya missed my cock?” A hand travels up his chest to rest encircling his throat. No squeeze yet, but the promise is there. He places a little kiss behind Daigo’s ear.

Daigo cannot respond. He is all nerve endings.

“Answer me, pretty boy. I need to know yer in there.”

“Yes.” He chokes it out.

“Good boy. Ya wanna play a game with me?”

“Yes!” Daigo’s cock jumps at the memory of their games.

Ryuji laughs low and it’s like something soft weaving between Daigo’s knees. The hand in his hair and the other hand at his throat are all that’s holding him up. “Can’t say I haven’t missed yer pretty mouth too.” He plants another kiss. Then a few more.

This man is gonna leave you comatose, sending all the blood from your dome down below.

And it’ll have been worth it.

“Ya wanna hear how our game’s gonna go?

Answer him.

The best Daigo can do is nod.

“Thought so. Ya’ve always been such a good little slut for me.”

And you always will be.

More little kisses evolve into something harder. Ryuji works gently at his neck with teeth and lips and tongue before continuing. “For now, I’m gonna make ya cum. Just to hold ya over for a little while.” The hand leaves his neck to pull his shirt up and drag fingertips up and down his belly.

It won’t take much

“Then tomorrow, somebody’s gonna come pick ya up. Not sure when, not sure where. They’re gonna be a little rough about it, but don’t worry.” Ryuji moves on to his belt and button. “I’m not gonna let anyone hurt my little cocksleeve.” The belt is gone quickly but he takes his time with the rest, hand playing over the bulge of Daigo’s cock as he spins his story.

“They’re gonna tie ya up, just how we like it. And bring ya out to see me. We’re gonna have a great time together.” Finally, Daigo is free. Once Ryuji was done teasing him, the button and zipper came in quick succession.

And now Daigo’s breath is coming in pants, making cloud-bursts of heat in the night. Ryuji grips the base of his cock with the smallest amount of pressure. “Sound good, darlin’?”

If Daigo could produce a single coherent thought, he’d have wondered what all the theatrics were for. But he’s past that. Way past that. Half way to bliss. “Yes, sir.”

Old habits die hard.

He strokes up once, just to send a thrill down Daigo’s spine. Just to make his knees quake. “Good boy.” He keeps Daigo’s head pulled to the side to continue working at the deepening bruise at the crook of his neck. Keeps his hips pressed firmly into Daigo’s ass. Keeps a steady pace on his cock and a steady stream of sweet words in his ear.

Daigo is unravelling. At some point, the hand in his hair leaves to slip two fingers into his gasp-open mouth for him to suck on. His favorite gag.

Happy now?

Euphoric.

He makes small noises as the fingers push back into his throat - less sensitive now that it had once been - as Ryuji growls into his ear. “Ready to cum for me, sweet boy?”

No. Yes. Both. He wants it more than he’s wanted anything in a long time. Or does he want to ride this for as long as he can?

He decides to let Ryuji make the choice for him, answering only in doe eyes and a pleading look.

His pace slows. “Pretty boy can’t make up his mind?”

Daigo gives him a muffled moan.

He has stopped altogether. The hand in his mouth returns to his hair to tilt his head downward. The hand on his cock returns to neutral, resting with a firmer grip around the base. “What does my lover boy think? Does this cock look like it’s ready to cum?”

Daigo is swollen red and leaking onto the trash bags below his spread-eagle legs.

“D -”

“Yes, baby?” He gives Daigo’s cock a short squeeze. “Spit it out.”

“Daddy, please.”

He laughs. “Well, since ya asked so nicely.”

It doesn’t take much more than that.

From somewhere in his coat, Ryuji produces a few pocket tissues and cleans his hands, all while keeping Daigo propped against his chest. He returns to trailing kisses up and down Daigo’s neck. “Look at ya, bein’ so good for me.” He tosses the tissue over his shoulder. “But ya’ve made such a mess. I’d make ya lick it up if I weren’t worried about the germs.”

You would too, if he demanded it.

He knows.

Haven’t you ever heard of a refractory period?

But it feels good to want again. To ache for it.

Ryuji turns Daigo around once he’s tucked him away, put his clothes back in place. He keeps his arms slung around Daigo’s hips, hands on his ass. Daigo knows there is want for tenderness in him. Typically, it went unexpressed.

Tonight, though, Ryuji presses his forehead against Daigo’s. Kisses first the tip of his nose, then one corner of his mouth, then the other.

Then back to the nose, then each eyelid, until they were laughing again like the young idiots they once were. Like they used to.

He ends things with a kiss full on the mouth, more romantic than Daigo expected. He says his goodbyes and pulls away. “I’ll see ya tomorrow, hot stuff.”

He is at the end of the alley when he stops. Almost out of ear shot. “I’m sorry, by the way. For what happened. For all that.”

It knocks the air out of Daigo’s chest.

Right.

That.

Did you think you could just go back to the way things were?

[lykaokrios]

Perfectly Fine - M!De Sardet x Vasco

Fandom: Greedfall

Paring: Captain Vasco x M!De Sardet

Word Count: 1,658

Description:  Vasco is battling with feelings he most certainly doesn't have for De Sardet, until it all comes spilling out.

Warnings: Mild swearing

My AO3

Vasco wasn’t a man prone to rash emotion. Usually able to keep his head steady in most situations; else he’d make a poor captain. Annoyed? Yes. Miffed? Of course.  But angry? Very rarely.

But anger had seemed to slither into his veins the longer he was on land. It was the land’s doing of course. Being too far from sea. It had nothing to do with the handsome noble he found himself following.

It was never anger AT De Sardet. But anger at situations and people around him. The more he… became friendly with the man the more things that seemed to tick him off.

And it most certainly didn’t have anything to do with the way said man made his heart quicken. With the way he looked at him. With the feelings he refused to acknowledge as anything more than mere attraction. A battle he was sorely losing.

The idea of being in love with a noble seemed crazy. Being in love with the nephew of a Prince however, seemed absolutely insane. Even if he was willing to accept his own feelings, which he wasn’t, there was no way De Sardet would reciprocate. And even if he did, which he wouldn’t, it wasn’t like he was in any position to be with him. He was the Legate of the Congregation, nephew of the prince, cousin of the governor, and he was in line for the fucking throne. As if he could be with a Naut even if he wished to be.

But no. Those thoughts certainly never bothered him. They rarely crossed his mind. And never had he taken that anger out on the next battle they fell into or looked to the bottom of a bottle of whiskey for the answer to this problem.

If he just wasn’t so… caring. If he just didn’t look at him so.. fondly. Vasco concludes that must be it. While the Nauts are a close family, you were set to your own devices to figure things out fairly early. They said that’s how you grow, how you show who you’re going to be. There was no motherly or fatherly roles, just mentors. They cared in their own ways. But never anything outright.

But De Sardet. He often wore his heart on his sleeve. A trait Vasco first saw as a weakness. Caring for too many people. Trying to help too many people, all out of sense of doing the right thing. But over time he found himself enamored with the ideals of the man. The way he tried to maintain peace with everyone. How he wanted to think the best of all parties. The way he took everyone’s voice into account.

The way he easily built friendships as their little crew expanded. How he’d drop everything to help one of them. The day Vasco had asked for his help, he immediately started planning, and had the file to him within 24 hours. It was an odd feeling, having someone in his life that would risk their life and reputation just to make him feel more whole.

The Nauts had long told them that who they were before didn’t matter. To just forget it. But it mattered to Vasco. And because it mattered to him, De Sardet decided it mattered to him as well.

The day Vasco went down in battle, De Sardet was to him in moments, standing over him warding off the attackers with a fierceness he’d never seen. After a pile of corpses lay before them, he swiftly turned to Vasco to check on him. Calloused hands moving impossibly soft across his face, blue-green eyes full of worry staring into his soul.

De Sardet had the eyes of the ocean. Their color reminded Vasco of the waters surrounding the Naut island. The water he grew up splashing in with the other children, swimming in and training in as he grew, and the water he returned to happily each time he made it back. A beautiful blue-green. The storm that seemed to wage in them when he was angry, the calmness in them when he was happy. The captain felt like he could happily get lost in them every time they were trained on his own golden eyes.

Not that his other features were easy to ignore. It would take a blind man to not notice how handsome the legate was. A rugged rough masculine build. Strong jaw, strong frame, a dusting of facial hair. A smile that made him weak in the knees each time it was directed at him. Unfortunately, Vasco wasn’t the only one that noticed.

He knew there would be nothing between himself and the legate, as he continued to remind himself. Others enjoying his features, flirting with him, or attempting to seduce him wasn’t to be of Vasco’s concern. The man could do as he liked.

Not that those people didn’t infuriate the captain to no end. He often just scoffed at their attempts, or focused on maintaining as neutral of an expression as he could manage. A task he didn’t seem to be that good at, if Kurt’s reactions were anything to go by.

“You looked as if you were ready to kill that man,” Kurt states simply as the two of them follow behind the legate as they leave the half Brothel half gambling ring basement of San Matheus.

“No clue what you are on about,” Vasco responds sternly, fighting down the anger still flowing through his veins.

“Either you have a history with that prostitute and you don’t like him, or you don’t like how he talked to De Sardet I’d wager by that reaction,” Kurt pushes.

“I’m perfectly fine,” Vasco still insists, clenching his hands as they walk, his eyes trained on the design on the back of De Sardet’s cape.

“Man was just doin’ his job. Green-blood seemed interested anyway,” Kurt teases.

“He did not!” Vasco hisses, whipping around to face Kurt. His fists clenched and his chest heaving. “The man should be able to see he is an important diplomat doing a job, and fucking watched his mouth. He didn’t immediately need to try to climb him like the fucking mast.”

“Vasco?” De Sardet stops walking to turn back to his companions, his expression confused. “Is everything alright with you two?”

“Perfectly fine,” Vasco responds back through gritted teeth.

Looking unconvinced, the legate’s gaze turns to his old weapons-master, “Kurt?”

Kurt lets out a laugh before reaching out to grab the Naut on the shoulder, a move Vasco refutes, shaking his hand off of him. “I’m just havin’ a bit of fun with him, and he took it seriously.”

Crossing the distance between them, De Sardet approaches Vasco, noticing the obvious tension in his body.

“Kurt, please give us a moment to speak,” he says, placing a hand to Vasco’s chest as he backs the man into an a nearby empty alleyway. “What happened?”

In that moment, the dirt road suddenly got far more interesting for the Naut captain. His eyes trained to one specific boot print in the dirt as he tries to mumble a lame response.

“Vasco.”

“He was just… teasing me a bit, nothing more nothing less,” he insists.

“What did he say that got you that riled up? I’ve never seen you this agitated. Then again… you were agitated before this. What is going on?”

Vasco remains silent, just kicking his own boot in the dirt. His body still tensed, but now he’s not sure if it’s previous anger or how close he now found himself to the other man.

After a few moments of silence, De Sardet grabs ahold of both sides of Vasco’s uniform and shoves him back into the brick wall behind, causing the Naut to immediately look up into his eyes in shock. “Vasco.”

Before he can formulate an answer, he finds himself crashing his lips to the legate’s. De Sardet jumps at the the initial contact, but quickly deepens the kiss between them. Vasco’s arms wrap around him, his hands gripping his cape as a growl escapes his throat.

De Sardet knocks his hat off as his hands go to the Naut’s hair, quickly freeing it from its tie. His hands sink in his long brunette hair as they pull each other impossibly closer.

And seemingly as quick as it began, they’re pulling back gasping for a breath. A chuckle from De Sardet as Vasco’s eyes desperately search his.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for months,” the legate admits softly. “But was that just to distract me from my questions or…?”

“Or,” Vasco responds immediately, cursing himself at the dumb response as he earns another chuckle. He can feel his cheeks flushed, and his mind feels scrambled.

“What were you angry about?”

At this point, Vasco decides it’s time to just answer truthfully. If there was any chance… “He was teasing me about my anger from the interrogation.”

“He was teasing you for being angry in the brothel? You seemed angry, but I assumed you just didn’t like how unhelpful he was being.”

“I was… aggravated… at his advances,” he admits. “At you.”

“You were upset that the worker tried to seduce me?”

“Aye.”

Another chuckle. And with that Vasco can feel his cheeks heating ever further, “Sea and love both share a bitter bite… the sea seizes. Love seizes. Love scalds us, and the seas scalds us. For neither are free from tempest might.”

De Sardet looks back at him curiously, the sea in his eyes calm as he finds himself staring into them.

“A poem?”

“Yes… uh.. a poem I read and which I was trying to remember. It makes me think of you… of us,” he admits. “I- would you… want to spend some time alone together?”

A gentle smile spreads across De Sardet’s face, his hand moving to Vasco’s cheek as he strokes it gently, “I thought you’d never ask.”

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas]

AAAAA YOUR LATEST WRITING WAS SO GOOD!!!! But now it has me wondering if we could perhaps see some Sooga being a rough service top at Kohga’s command? Like- Kohga is still in charge, but he’s ordering Sooga to rough him up and fuck him and stuff like that!

Definitely??? Been WAITING for this ask.

Kohga had a tough time coming to terms with stuff lately. Stuff like no longer having a god to worship, getting along with royals, and if that wasn’t enough, he was in love with his second command. He knew Sooga was different than any other man he had been with, but Kohga had come to realize just how bad it was. Kohga was in love with him. Not having HEAVY feelings for him, but thinking real long term stuff here. Kohga never knew what he’d be like if he was in love. It was weird. He wanted to fling himself at Sooga, demanding he wed his ass immediately. But he knew life wasn’t like a fairy tale. Marrying his second in command would change a lot. It’s why Kohga had to really be sure. Had to test Sooga. Kohga looked up from his magazine (sometimes a guy just had to look at nude dudes), and sighed. Something new. Something he NEVER trusted anyone to do.

“Sooga!”

Sooga popped his head into the door, like a trained puppy.

“Yes Master Kohga?”

“Come in here for a sec. I need you.”

Sooga walked in, shutting the door behind him. He got onto one knee in front of Kohga, bowing his head. Ever ready to serve.

“Yes, My Master Kohga. Your wish is my command.”

“I’m bored, and I’m horny. Unless you have objections, I wanna play with you for a while, Sooga.”

“Yes, Master Kohga. Shall I-”

Sooga made the motion to take off his clothes, before Kohga held his hand up, halting him.

“We’re doing something...different. I trust you now way more than I did at the start of all of this. So, I’m….I’m gonna do what YOU tell me to do.”

They were both clearly uncomfortable. Kohga hated being bossed around, and Sooga was ever eager to obey Kohga’s commands. Sooga looked around, as if he was waiting for someone to tell him this was a joke. The only joke here was just how bad of an idea this was.

“Master Kohga? Are you...feeling well? Do you need a hot tea? Perhaps let me rub your feet?”

“That actually sounds really-okay no, wait, stop distracting me here.”

“Yes, Master Kohga.”

“No no no, don’t-”

Kohga sighed as he put his face into his palm. God dammit. This was bombing already.

“Look. Look. Just. Okay. I’m going to let you take the lead, okay? Whatever you wanted to do with me, let’s do it. If I’m uncomfortable, I’ll make you stop. But that’s what I want. What YOU want.”

“But...I want what you want?”

“Dear god just cut off my balls, Sooga-”

Sooga was too obedient, too soft. He needed a BIT of a nudge. Kohga sighed, forced himself to breathe.

“Sooga, listen. There has to be SOMETHING you wanted me to do for you, something we haven’t done. So, let’s do it. Really, it’s okay. If anyone’s going to do it, it’s gonna be you. Just, do what you feel like. I’m here, I’m ready, let’s go.”

Neither moved, neither spoke. It was weird, it was bizarre, and Kohga’s reasoning for it was just as odd. Sooga gave a soft nod.

“Okay, first thing I want. Your honesty. Is this something you want, or is this something you’re telling yourself you want?”

“I signed up to blow my load, not get a load off my chest.”

But it WAS what Sooga asked for. Kohga grumbled as he rubbed the back of his head.

“Alright. Honestly? Both. This is weird, out of my comfort zone, but I trust you enough to try this with you. So, I...your call, I guess.”

Sooga put his hand on top of Kohga’s, squeezing.

“I’m honored to be trusted with you. To be able to have so much responsibility. If it suits you, we may take things very slow, very careful. Nothing too much so soon.”

“....You ever done something like this before?”

“When I was a younger man, before I even knew of the clan, I had something to do with the son of a stable hand. It’s nowhere near something this serious, but I feel as though I can do enough to satisfy you regardless.”

Okay, so Sooga wasn’t a TOTAL virgin, that was good at least. Sooga helped himself up to his bed, and hesitated. Where was one to start with such a momentous task? Kohga was about to flip shit, ready to call this whole thing off, when Sooga lifted him, right onto his lap. His mask thunked against his own, and he could tell he was smiling.

“Apologies for my hesitation. You make it quite difficult to think, given your endless studliness.”

“You’re literally trying to charm the pants off of me. I can’t believe you, Sooga.”

Kohga knew he was letting Sooga take over, but he couldn’t help himself as he held onto his chin, lightly stroking his chin. Just how Sooga liked it, his pretty boy. Sooga accepted it for a moment, before he recalled that HE was supposed to make Kohga feel flustered. Kohga quickly found himself underneath Sooga, who was keeping his body over Kohga (what with those big, strong arms of his), as he slowly started to grind himself into Kohga’s crotch. Someone was already at half mast, and Kohga could feel every inch of it.

“Master Kohga, may I kiss you?”

“Let’s change that a bit, Sooga. Instead of saying may I, say ‘I want’. Try it out.”

“I...want to kiss you.”

“Not bad. Only next time,”

Kohga grinned, pushing his mask up a bit, just to reveal his smirking lips.

“Say it like you REALLY want it.”

Sooga couldn’t help himself. He clumsily pushed aside his mask (revealing a bit more of his face than he intended), and pressed his lips against Kohga’s. His lips were eager, excited, ever firm against his own. Sooga’s grinding turned firmer, quicker, clearly motivated by the idea that he could REALLY get what he wanted. 

And Sooga was a greedy, GREEDY boy.

“I want to stuff my cock in your mouth.”

“Wow, look at you, not a single stutter. Someone’s getting better~”

Sooga adjusted himself, taking his cock out of his clothes, and pressing it right against Kohga’s face. Kohga kept opening his mouth, ready to accept it, before it was clear that Sooga was messing with him. He was just smearing his girth against his face, hand holding the top of his head.

“But first, I want to put your hair down. I want something to pull on.”

Oh poor Kohga was swooning. He was still a top, but goddamn Sooga was earning his right to man the helm. Kohga un did his hair tie, letting his big, curly mane flow freely. Sooga was pleased, given how he grabbed a fistful of it, and nearly yanked him onto his dick. Kohga would normally be offended by such crass behavior, but he was a bit distracted. Kohga had taken quite a few dicks before, but Sooga was a big, big boy, and the length of his cock not only stretched his cheeks, but hit right at the back of his throat. Pair that with the fact that Sooga had a good, firm grip on his hair, and Kohga’s head was too full of lust to scold Sooga properly.

“You’re VERY good at this, Master Kohga. Very, very good at this.”

Even his dirty talking was getting better. Sooga sat on top of him, pulling his head back and forth on his cock. And Kohga, like the champ cock sucker he was, kept his eyes right on him the entire time. Kohga could sit here all night honestly, showing Sooga just how good he was at taking a cock, when he slowly peeled him away. Sooga was really throbbing now, and it took a lot of restraint to not command that he be given more.

“I want you to open your mouth again.”

Didn't take a genius to figure out that Sooga meant he wanted his balls sucked on. Kohga gave the tip of his dick a quick smooch, before obeying, softly suckling on one of his balls, before moving to the other. He repeated it, over and over, nice and slow, just how Sooga liked it. In fact, he was doing SUCH a good job, Sooga’s hand had held onto the wall, and the grip to his hair had loosened. Steam was practically coming out of his ears, and his body was fighting the urge to shake all over. Kohga was just too good. Sooga pulled him away yet again, making Kohga pout. Though, he couldn’t fault the guy, Kohga’s mouth had brought strong men to their knees plenty of times.

“I...apologize, Master Kohga. Just one moment.”

“You were about to bust, huh? Why, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re saving that load. My my, Sooga, and here I thought you’d be at a total loss of what to do with me~”

Kohga gave his balls a quick peck, not at all minding the smears that stained his mask. Sooga was such a fun boy to play with, Kohga could stay down here forever. But he just had to push his poor Sooga.

“Having said that, what’s the next plan, big boy?”

Sooga finally found his breath, looking down at Kohga. He wasted no time coming out with his next thought, driven by lust and curiosity.

“I want to be inside of you. I want you to cum around me as I do nothing but please you.”

Translation? ‘I would love to just fuck your ass’. And Kohga DEFINITELY didn’t have any objections. 

“You definitely wouldn’t be the first to say that. Alright, let’s see how well that third sword of yours does~”

“....I have two swords, master Kohga.”

“God you’re lucky you’re pretty.”

Kohga loved Sooga, really he did, but holy shit did he miss the plot sometimes. He decided that getting RAILED was more important than explaining himself, so he just let Sooga flip him on his belly, enjoying how Sooga’s hands on his ass felt. They were big, firm, just how he always pictured they’d feel.

“Is this comfortable enough for you?”

“Plenty. But then again, I’m always comfortable with you.”

Kohga pushed his butt right against the throbbing gerth, and he nearly swooned. Oh, this was going to be FUN. The second Sooga recalled that HE was supposed to be in charge.

“M-master Kohga, should’nt I prepare you?”

“Sooga, my ass has handled plenty, literally. Besides, I can’t wait for you.”

He lifted his hand up to pat Sooga’s cheek.

“Not when I’ve thought about this before.”

“I...pardon?”

Kohga turned his head, meeting Sooga’s gaze.

“I’ve thought about you fucking me. Thought about you pulling my hair, and fucking me right into the sheets. I thought of your cock LOTS of times. Just once, I want you to take me, Sooga. I’m at your mercy.”

Sooga stared at him for a moment, as if he was puzzled. Then, something clicked in his little samurai. Sooga yanked at his lower clothes, not taking the time to properly take them off, before he put his weight on Kohga’s back, and shoved his dick, right inside his ass. Sooga cupped his face in his hand, and started to buck into his Master. His voice was lustful, his grip was TIGHT, and it was driving Kohga all types of mad.

"If that is something you wish, then it is something you shall receive. I'll fuck you. I'll fuck you until you can only think of me, and me alone."

Kohga opened his mouth, greedily accepting his big, firm fingers. He muttered against them, only smearing more drool against his nice, rough palm.

"S-shit Sooga! Didn't know you had it in you!"

"You have quite a bit in YOU, Master Kohga."

Kohga wanted to laugh, but Sooga seemed fueled by his own words. Not only did he start to fuck his ass harder, but his teeth clamped right onto his neck. Shit that hurt. And it hurt GOOD.

"F-fucking SHIT Sooga, that's it, bite me, nice and hard!"

He got just what he wanted. Sooga’s teeth roamed from his neck, to his shoulder, and each bite punctured his chin, drawing just a bit of blood.

"Am I pleasing you, Master Kohga?"

"Almost. Wrap your legs around me, you can fuck me nice and fast."

Sooga obeyed, and before Kohga knew it, he was getting jack hammered right in the ass, nice and fucking fast. Sooga's tongue grazed alongside his cheek, and Sooga nearly growled his next order.

"Say you love me. Say it."

Kohga giggled. He turned into SUCH a cock hungry bimbo when he was getting it good.

"I LOVE my Sooga. My big, handsome Sooga, who's gonna cum right in my ass. Isn't he? Isn't he gonna stuff my asshole full of that creamy cum?"

Sooga maybe ACTING the top, but they both knew who was really pulling the strings. And that's why they worked so perfectly together. Kohga chuckled as he pumped his own cock.

"You're balls are SO full of cum for me. I tasted it. You're SO ready to unload into me. Fuck my ass like a goddamn toy, and cum. Inside. Of me."

His voice made it sound like an order, and like any order, Sooga obeyed it. He came, and he came hard, swearing right into Kohga's ear. Kohga touched himself eagerly as he felt the cum being forced inside of him, pulse after pulse bringing more waves of cum. And Kohga LOVED it.

"Oh….shit. You're still going. Oh FUCK you're still cumming, you dirty boy!"

Sooga grabbed two handfuls of his plump ass, digging his fingers into his flesh.

"Cum for me. Tighten around me."

It didn't take long for Kohga to do just that, muttering as he furiously milked his dick for all the cum it was worth. Kohga collapsed on the sheets, sighing in relief. He was laying in a puddle of thick cum, Sooga's cock not quite done unloading into him. They sat there, panting, stiff with exhaustion. Then Sooga finally became Sooga again.

"M-Master Kogha! I-i hurt you! Your skin is bruised-!"

"Down boy, down. I like it this way. I liked it, really. Now, whenever I look in the mirror, I'll be reminded of just this moment. Of the moment you ravaged me like an animal, and pumped me full of your cum."

Sooga seemed freaked out over that too, stammering.

"I-i didn't pull out of-oh. Oh I came right inside of you. It's spilling right out of you-"

Kohga chuckled, toying with his far too sensitive cock.

"Go on, I'm listening. Tell me how I'm lookin~"

"You...you aren't repulsed?"

"Sooga, no. I love you, and people who love each other, sometimes stuff cum in each other's asses. I liked this, I liked it with you. You did REALLY good for your first try. Not perfect, but good."

Of course that got his attention. Sooga ALWAYS wanted to know how he could improve himself.

"Did I say something wrong? Move too fast?"

"No, I liked the dirty talk, really. And trust me, you CAN'T go too fast for me. I mean you should smack me around more. Open my mouth with your fingers, maybe spank me, nice and-ahh!~"

Sooga suddenly brought his hand down, open palm smacking across his ass. 

"Better?"

"Shit yes….though, practice makes perfect, Sooga."

"Of course, Master."

Another slap. Another. Another. Each more swift and more hard than the last. It was then that Kohga realized; Sooga passed the test with absolutely flying colors.