#songs of the inland sea

[siblingsweethearts]

If you guys haven't already, you should absolutely check out Tales of Kaimere, by Keenan Taylor! It's honestly one of the best original writing and worldbuilding projects I've ever seen, the amount of work this guy puts into it is phenomenal. I've been following his channel for a while & started the first anthology recently. Really enjoying it, and my bf got me the second too!

Anyway, I love Nasiri the hunter. Badass middle aged trans guy who kills maneating theropods, pterosaurs and big cats for a living? Yes pls. Might have to add him to my selfship list, haha~

[honourablejester]

Oh, I didn’t know that.

I was listening to Gordon Lightfoot’s “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” on youtube, and browsing the comments several people mentioned …

Okay. The song is about the real sinking of the freighter the Edmund Fitzgerald on Lake Superior in 1975. And there’s a line in the song:

“In the Maritime Sailor’s Cathedral,

The Church Bell chimed till it rang twenty nine times,

For each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald”

Which references something that the actual Maritime Church in Detroit did in honour of the ship’s crew. And I just found out in those youtube comments for his song that when Gordon Lightfoot died in May last year (2023), the Maritime Church rang those bells again, this time 30 times. Once for every man on the Edmund Fitzgerald, and once more for Gordon Lightfoot.

That’s … That is a memorial I would be proud to have earned. And proud to give. I do like that. A lot.

Apparently, the Split Rock Lighthouse on Lake Superior also lit its beacon in honour of him.

Sorry. I’m having … extremely maritime sort of feelings over here. Songs and memorials, bells and beacons, and the ways we carry memory forward. That’s … that’s a good memorial. I like that.

[iguanodont]

Meant to make this my final post of the year, but I guess it’ll have to be my first instead! A look at part of a birg end-of-year tradition.

The Wis’Sachoi are a culture far to the west of the Twowi, where they exist fairly peacefully on the coast of a large inland sea. Come autumn the gifters (bachelors) herald the mating season by arriving to clans towns in bulky costumes made of sticks and reeds. They chase kids and animals, knock things over, and sing playfully that life away from the village has made them course and wild; won’t somebody please trim their shaggy hair and crooked claws? Young receivers (the ladies) don spiny cowls of woven branches in a cheeky imitation of the spiked armor worn by beast hunters of legend, to engage the “monsters” in games of song and wordplay. Should the beast court the wrong individual, or insult his quarry, or make too much mischief around the village, the elders are ready to chase him off with sticks. When a “beast” and “hunter” have successfully matched wits, the hunter will approach with beak scissors, so that she may snip away at the reeds covering her partner’s face in a tender gesture of allogrooming. Then her sisters and elders help tear away the rest of the costume, making the suitor fit to live among the clan again. The night ends with the burning of the reeds and a communal meal.

Courtship games such as this are just the first in a series of events held for around nine days, which include bachelors presenting gifts for the children and elders of the village, a fishing contest, and lots of feasting. Many of these gifts arrive in the form of exotic spices and other ingredients collected over the past year of trading abroad. Though it is tradition for courting pairs to consummate on the final night, it is not uncommon for a gifter to offer his spermatophore to several partners before the end of the festival period. After the final night concludes, Wis’Sachoi bachelors are granted the privilege of hibernating with their temporary in-laws.

As birgs generally sleep through the winter, fall and early-winter events such as these are the closest most cultures come to the sort of midwinter holidays observed on earth.

—————

For more worldbuilding (mostly creature) posts or to see what im up to on discord, I do have a patreon, where I post weekly!

I also have new stickers up on my kofi, or you can get prints of my art here, for those interested!

[punk-in-docs]

A song of rage and salty waves: part I

— Emperor Geta x reader (Salacia)

— 2.5k words

— Read all parts here: Part I — Part II — Part III — Part IV

Summary; You were raised outside of this Rome. Born into peace. To know of fathomless deep seas, and skies so big, they wrapped around your whole sight. The way that at night all you can smell are lemon trees kissed by salt. The jasmine plants wound around the white walls of the villa. Salacia. And now you are sent to Rome for your father in the Senate. There you will catch the attention of Geta; in all the wrong and darkest of ways— any reblog and comments are greatly appreciated 💙💙💙

TW!! some dub con/ threat/violence/basically forced marriage/forced smut situation/Geta is such a vile human being/Macrinus is villain sorry denzel ily

You’re imprisoned in Rome.

You certainly didn’t come here of your own free will. Your father had tugged you here from Corsica. Employed clever charm with letters and schemes from his high position in the senate.

As the role of your sex; you were born to obey.

He sent you imported silken stolas the colours of cornflowers or lazurite, with gold fibulae at the shoulders. Gem inlaid jewellery, rings to decorate every finger, and earrings the sway. A golden net for your hair. Wheedled you into coming to join him. Sending servants to travel with you and take heed of your every comfort.

He made sure you dined on plump fresh fruit. Seafood of lobsters and crabs. Drank wine so rich dark it looked black.

You despise it. The stone pillars and temples. And gods of old. Eyes watch you everywhere. See you. Follow you.The governing heat and noise and sweaty heaving mass of all forms of life.

You were raised outside of this Rome. Born into peace. To know of fathomless deep seas, and skies so big, they wrapped around your whole sight. The way that at night all you can smell are lemon trees kissed by salt. The jasmine plants wound around the white walls of the villa.

Salacia. The ocean nymph and the being of your name. Crowned with seaweed in your hair. Sea foam dripping off your fingers. Ripped from your home, an isle by the sea, at the whim of another.

Imprisoned here in this cold marble city. A fish out of water. Gasping dry on the shore.

Pulled inland and stolen away. You can’t hear gulls or waves anymore. It sickens you. Heart pangs that throb for home.

When you arrived, pulled back your folded palla down to your shoulders. He welcomed you with open arms and fondness. Wrists linked in gold cuffs. Tugged you to his chest and embraced you warmly. Hissed in your ear - abrasive like harsh sea spray - spies are everywhere.

He needed you close by. For reasons you had yet to fathom.

You dined like spoilt deity’s. Breads and wines, fish, fruits from far regions fattened by the suns heat, and succulent meat roasted in sweet cassia spices on a spit.

He had urns of flowers - picked by the servant - placed in every room. Lilies, juniper branches still bearing dark fruit, lavender, oleanders.

Companions join him and he is boastful of you. A nubile creature offered placement at a table of old muddled men. He introduces you to trusted friends and advisors in the senate.

One man in particular takes keen interest as to your recent arrival. His name was Macrinus. Man of information and resources. Dealt in cunning and cruelty though you found him sincerely charming. Your father watched you with a desperate eye.

Macrinus bore a smile so dazzling and blinding it made you dizzy; made think of the sun god. Apollo and his light cast across golden wheat fields. Notes of fine music. He sipped his wine slow, as he learned the flavour of your name. Where you came from. Understanding the rolling sea foam in your veins.

There’s a game to be held at the coliseum. He will have your father as his guest - and you by a very pretty extension. He nods at you; his eyes glimmer like pooled liquid gold in the half lit dark. It almost makes you feel safe.

They dine and drink into the small hours. Yet you slip away.

You watched this awful city out your window that night in your silk dress the colour of night time tidal waves. The air is stale. Carrion to you. Hot. Full of dust and sweat. Here, It smells like mulberry trees and a green garden waiting for blessed rain.

You couldn’t hear the sea. Or your sisters. Your mothers humming as she wove cloth and mended clothes. And you wept.

Salt found in your tears to be your only sacred comfort of home.

~

You are soft to this hard stone city. The coliseum is magnificent. As large as it is those who hold their powerful fists over its rule. Clutched in gold. Fine for the rich. Deadly for the slaves and warriors thrown into the pit at the whim of others. Met with carnivore teeth and sand and death.

The senators, generals, and the rich merchants watch from their perch, up among the gods they serve, presiding in shade and clothed in perfumed silks and jewels. Ladies and men both.

Your hair took hours to fasten in its current coiled style. Plaited and weaved. Your dress is the colour of the softest blue shore. Your servant lavished your arms and fingers in golden finery. A serpent cuff coiled around your arm. Skin draped in lemon oil because it’s the small piece of Corsica you carry here with you. Serenity to push against this place of gore, butchery and death.

You find yourself seated here amongst giants. Macrinus is seated one side. Your father the other. He fondly lays his hand across yours in gentle touch.

His palm is damp. Gold rings wet.

His face looks haggard with age. The lines by his eyes more prominent. Rome is poisoning him. The golden apple just a fingertip shy of his reach. St Bartholomew flayed and stripped of skin piece by piece. Schemes and plots lay thick in his mind like rot. Sweat beads down across his brow and the thinning salt pepper of his hair.

He says something to Macrinus that you’re too absorbed to hear. It’s low. Dragged through a growl. He appears unmoved, with a slow flick of his eyes to you. Watching this finery and loudness devour you. Your eyes so full wide and round. Salt and innocence entwined.

You all rise when the emperors pass by, Geta and Caracalla, who stride in, garbed in gold and cloaks. Come to take their rightful place at the mouth of the box where you are seated.

They are like twin suns to the Roman people. Lion gold hair kissed by fire. They burn and twist and shine with it. Make noises like gold coins that clack when they move. Strung in riches and golden crowns of olive leaves and branches.

Together they make you think of Romulus and Remus. Raised rabid by wolves. And they certainly make an impression. You’ve heard tale of the voracious nature of the blood sport they all but live for. Faces limned in the glory of gore.

The crowd cheers for them. They nod and wave but it appears barbed. The games begin with a wave of applause and a regal hand.

Caracalla twists and casts an eye in your direction. Seeing new meat.

The way you sit sedately and can’t cast your mind into the butchery and violence happening below. The clash of steel. The hollow squelching cries that proceed death. The spill of viscera and the scatter of brain matter from split heads.

Each new gash or split in skin made them smile. The taint of blood. Metallic sour. Spilling of offal and exposed bone.

He tilts his head like a clever wolf. Eyes darken. His sneer as terrible as a skulls. He leans across and whispers something to his brother with a knock of his arm to gain attention.

Another set of wolfish eyes join the first in hooking to your skin. Silly soft girl. Made of gentle sea breezes and lapping blue waves calm and soft enough to wade in. Pearl shining in moonlight. So watery and weak. So good. Untouchable.

Geta swept his gaze on you from head to toe. Appraising you hungrily through greedy eyes. The beauty of your figure in that soft folds of that stola. The gold that crushed your neck. Broaches at your fair shoulders. Hair glistening and finely arranged.

He liked the way you winced when another sword blow came. The pull of your brows and how you had to look away. He wanted you gathered up in his lap; fingers crushing your jaw as he turned your head; force you to watch as the men cleaved at each other and drew blood. Hacked off limbs. Laugh at your revulsion.

Looking at you sat there; He has an urge to take his dagger, slit that fine silk from your shoulders and bare your real beauty. Grab it off you and snatch your dress down. Spoil himself on your curves. Grab your breasts. He’s sure you’ve tits that even a goddess would envy. He’d reel you in by grabbing your ass that definitely needs a spank and some attention.

You’re even prettier than some of the finest whores he’s had grace his bed. They never kept his interest too long. Too entwined in filth and sin like him; you look pure as a vestal virgin.

He likes that. He wants to pluck it off you and spoil it.

You don’t dare meet his eyes. Of course you don’t. He’s an emperor. He could have you executed for looking at him wrongly. Instead; you wring your hands in your lap and squirm. Close your eyes tighter with every dying wail.

He turns back to the fight. As do you. A gasp flies from your mouth when you draw your eyes to one of the measly soldiers in the arena. Your father left his seat to stand, mouth gaping.

You saw the familiar arrangement of strong limbs. Garbed in warriors clothing. The way his arms shook holding a sword. Inexperienced and struggling. The fight was not fair. The same head of hair that matched your own.

Your oldest brother.

Macrinus grinned. “He’s not my finest fighter. But I wager he’ll be good sport.” He smirks.

Your father turned, cursed the gods, and exploded with venomous rage. Flew for the man with his fists. Grabbed his clothing. You tried to restrain the storm of his temper - but then you’d got that trait from somewhere hadn’t you? - an ocean thrashing wild and free. Terrifying in its rage.

“You promised me.” Your father roared. Spittle flying.

“I never promised to protect your traitor of a son. Let us see if the gods spare him. Yes?” Macrinus commented.

You couldn’t take your eyes from the pit. Nor could your father. He clutched to you like he could barely stand. Weakened and shrinking. Hand a vice on your shoulder. It burned like the sting of sun but you couldn’t shrug him off.

Your brother was meeting with an opponent far larger than he was. A Retiarius. Helmet, trident, dagger and a net.

Of which had currently knocked your brother to the blood dusted dirt. Spearing the trident deep into his thigh. Pinning him to earth like a bug. His cry of pain ringing out. Blood sheeted down one side of his head. His scream is the most horrible thing you’d ever heard.

You can’t help it. Where you’re stood, you cry out. It pours forth from you.

The Retiarius loomed over your bother like a terrible storm cloud. Looking up at the stands for direction. The whole audience cheered and screamed for more.

Geta stood up and the crowd bayed. He sneered at the sight before him. All the power of a god; crammed into a mortal man.

He raised his arm. And hesitated for a moment. Before he smirked. And pointed his thumb right up.

Death.

Your father wailed. The huge lumbering gladiator descended onto your brother. Flinging the net off and cutting his throat in one fast slice. Blood poured and pooled around lifeless eyes. Stained the sand.

Macrinus stood to his feet and clapped along with everyone else. The emperors’ laughed like hyenas at the sight. Blood and pain only made their smiles grow.

Before you knew what was happening, the palace guards had you and your father surrounded. Hands viced around your arms. Your shoulders. Your father too.

Traitor. He decried. A traitor in the senate. The tarpeian rock.

Just like his now dead son. People’s poised against the glory of Rome. Against Caracalla and Geta. Death to all.

Macrinus spoke harshly to the guards to release you. He backhanded you across your cheek. Your eye felt like it was going to burst. Cheek flamed with fire. Lip cut and bleeding down your chin from his ring.

He then wasted little time in digging his fingers into your finely done hair. Hauled you along screaming. Tears streaming.

Your father could only watch, limbs wrenching forwards in terror to help, as Macrinus marched you across the stands to where they sat.

He threw you to the ground like a feral animal. Tumbled you onto your knees. Skimmed your hands. As you squirmed and cried at your body twisted to his cruelty.

“Your majesties. I have personally uncovered a traitor in your court. Senator Aurelius. Not only was his first born placed in rebellion against Rome. But he himself has been sowing seeds of treason in your senate. I bring you his filthy kin as recompense…” He spat at the Emperors. Releasing your mussed hair to throw you to their feet.

They examined you as one would a creature. Nothing of humanity left. Devoid of any feeling. You crawled slowly to your elbows. Tried to claw away sobs. Raising up but not daring to look at them. You weren’t worthy. You feared them.

Geta was the one who rose slowly to his feet. Coming to stand before you. “We are most grateful for your revelation, Macrinus. You will be rewarded for such loyal service.” Though he spoke to him, his eyes never left you.

You father shouted and cried pleas. They go unheard. He snaps to the guards who hold him. “Silence that treacherous snake-“ he barks. They beat him into submission.

You stay cowering on the ground. In amongst the gritty dirt, and the blood like those slaves and gladiators. That’s how they saw you. That’s how much you were worth. Held in the same regard as the dirt on their shoes.

You feel a ring clad hand tip a finger under your chin. Blood dripping down onto that digit as he made you raise your head to look at him until your neck hurt.

“What is your name, pretty little traitor-“ He sneers. Because that is all you are. They’ve tarred and feathered you with the same brush.

You give it to him through tears that run freely. You give this awful golden haired emperor with dark lecherous eyes your name.

“Salacia.” You cry. Voice watery and cloaked in heavy salty sobs. Lips parted. So soft and pliable. Lovely and ripe and waiting for him. A gift from the gods-

He tilts his head down at you. Looking like some sun gold lion. Showing his canines in a cruel white smile.

“Imprison them. Both.” He smirks.

He thinks he may have them bring him your fathers head on a platter. Strangulation seemed too soft. Too forgiving. He had to make an example of you.

He had a particular way in mind for your fate. He watched you get led away crying as he sucked your sweet blood off his thumb.

You tasted like salt and sea foam

~

Tagging in the hopes this finds its way to the right people—

@indouloureux @trashmouth-richie @atabigail @lunatictardis @waywardrose @ceriseheaven @hillarymurray4 @lurkingprincess @ramona-thorns @joequinnswhore @iliveforotps @eddiesskittle @roosterisdaddy36 @rose-tinted @lluviamg06 @ravensfromvalhalla @fujiihime @youaremyfamiliar @captain-tch @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @svenyves @sammararaven @feralgoblinbabe @groupie-love-71 @andromeda-andromeda @morganamoonstone @gvtosbith @munsonswhore @shenevertricks1831 @hazzaismyreligion @harrys-titties @anaisweird @cinnamoncunt @red-lipstick-bisexual @wheels-of-despair @tvserie-s-world @callmeloverr @ho-for-joequinn-fics @bettyfrommars @rip-quizilla @songforeddiemunson @usedtobecooler @peachesandfiends @littlelioncub43 @heyndrix @babybluebex @blueywrites @joejoequinnquinn @cool-nick-miller @sheneedsrocknroll92 @rehfan @pedgito @dracomaledicte @gamingaquarius @mypoisonedvine @ddejavvu @sharp-and-swift @chaptersleftunwritten

[oonajaeadira]

That Awoooo Inside You, Pt. 1

Fandom: The Wild Robot / Fink the Fox

Pairing: Fink <3s OFC fox

Rating: G all the way, don’t worry. This is keeping in the world and disgustingly wholesome. Prolly too clean for tumbles 😆

Warnings: None. It’s for cuteness and for heart.

Summary: After the events of The Wild Robot, a new resident joins the island.

A/N: Listen. This is just for fun. I love a fox character and I love a sassmaster with a gooey center and my heart melted for Fink. He is very lovable. As @something-tofightfor mentioned in a chat with me, “he just wanted to matter to someone.” I totally agree. In keeping with the frank but sweet style of the movie, I just ached to give Fink a silly little sequel and it feels in bad practice to keep it locked up when I’ve had such blockage lately. Thank you for indulging my exercise.

It was a mild spring evening like any other, the sun going down as Fink bounded back inland, his belly nearly dragging on the ground after an afternoon of digging clams and catching fish. If it hadn’t been for Roz, he’d just be waking up for the evening, getting ready to hunt mice and rabbits. But thanks to Roz, he couldn’t bring himself to eat them anymore. He couldn’t eat his friends.

He smiled warmly. Friends.

And thanks to Roz, there was a soft, mossy green bed for him to curl up in after gorging himself on the pantry of the sea. It was waiting for him just ahead, its siren song of comfort and sleep calling out to him. Why be a hunter in the cold night when you can fish in the warm sun and sleep in a warm basket? What a life he’d lucked into.

Suddenly though, the spring evening like-any-other shifted into something else entirely when he was hit with a scent so new and wondrous that his quick feet stumbled to a stop just before the hut came into view. Putting his nose to the wind he let it wash over him and the scent ran through him like fire, tingled like a storm in the air, chattered his jaw and set every hair on end…

But in a really, really delicious way.

Obsession was something he was used to, but this was intense. He had to find it. Had to paw at it and roll in it. He needed it ground deep into his fur and he was running full out before he realized it, not off into the woods but to familiar ground, to his very own home.

“Your tail’s all puffed out,” Thorn noted as Fink came through the opening. “Someone chasin’ you? That’s my job.”

The bear gave a low laugh and Fink ignored him, hastily scanning the hut for the source of his agitation, not caring so much that his tail was puffy, but he couldn’t stop it twitching. “What… what what is that smell?”

“Oh. That’s probably her.” Thorn heaved himself off his big furry butt and stepped to the side, revealing Fink’s bed and the creature sleeping in it. “Found her washed up on the shore. Still alive. Barely. Thought you wouldn’t mind if I brought her here–”

“It’s a…fox. Another fox.” Fink stood aghast. He hadn’t seen a fox on this part of the island for most of his life. His mother had driven him off as soon as she was going to have another litter and the only other foxes around had been bigger males or his sisters, so he had run for days hoping to find a territory where he wouldn’t be bitten and bullied and kicked around by them. He’d found this corner of the island to be lonely, but at least he wouldn’t get himself killed over territory disputes. And then, of course came Roz and Brightbill and then this corner hadn’t been so lonely after all. It had seemed a fair trade to make; with such a warm, accepting new family, he’d never even stopped to wish for someone of his own ilk.

But now…

“She is?” Thorn mused. “Never seen a white fox before. Just thought she was a kind of weasel or something.”

Fink’s nose twitched. “No. She’s definitely fox.” Slowly approaching the bed, he craned around to get a better look at her sleeping face tucked halfway under her gray-tipped tail. She was small and her features were a little more delicate, but that scent couldn’t be denied. “Definitely.”

Another fox! Here! Where did she come from? How did she survive into maturity with that coloring in the wild? Was she friendly? She’d have to be taught the rules of their community. She’d need a place to stay…well, here, of course, with himself. No doubt. Foxes united. Was she clever? Another fox could help keep the raccoons in order. Would she be in pain when she woke up? No visible injuries. Would she be hungry?

Fink gasped.

Another chuckle from the bear. “Well that’s just great. Now there’s two of ‘em. Dandy.”

Ignoring the sarcasm, Fink turned and ran for the door. “If she wakes up before I get back, don’t let her leave!”

“Where you goin’?”

“River! Fish!”

Darting under fallen trees and skipping over the bank stones, making the grasses into a blurring tunnel of green, Fink made quick work of the path to the river. Getting a fish under duress and desperation was less than graceful though, slipping off the tree spanning the water and falling in, swimming halfway to shore before surrendering the indignity of being wet and turning around to paddle back to the center of the stream and bite bite bite at the water where the fish were jumping in the twilight as they came up to the surface for bugs. By the time he returned to the hut with a fish in his jaws the sun was finally down.

There were a number of animals sitting in the meadow outside of the shelter when he arrived, sitting up on their haunches and vying for a view, attracted by the noise of spitting and snarling, of Thorn bellowing reassurances, and a great deal of scampering happening inside. It seemed their guest was awake. Fink had to paw at the bear’s backside to get into the hut–Thorn was plugging the entrance with his body–and was able to squeeze through in a moment of silence.

The hut was in chaos, everything that could be upturned had been, and the white fox herself was at the side furthest from the door, braced and ready to spring, exhausted and panting, seemingly fighting for her life. She was now ashy as the shadows inside the hut; it seemed she’d fallen into the cold fire pit at one point, her bright coat splotched with soot.

“I keep tryin’ to tell her she’s safe but she doesn’t wanna believe me,” the bear moaned, his defensive roar shaking the walls.

Dropping the fish, Fink rolled his eyes. “Gee. I wonder why.” He took a few steps toward the newcomer. “Hey, hey, I’m sorry this big lug scared you–”

“Oh right,” she panted. “Why would I be afraid of two predators that are keeping me trapped in a cave and won’t let me leave????”

“Whoa. Whoa whoa whoa,” Fink flinched at her ferocity. He couldn’t blame her for going on defense, but he knew he had to calm her down fast before her flight instincts led her to hurt herself. He put on his gentlest voice. “You can leave, I promise you. But? Weeeeee need your help first.”

This threw her off, her breath catching and her eyes darting between Thorn and Fink in the darkness. 

Her eyes— one dark and one light–

“Help you? Help with what?”

It was working. Her panting slowed and her shoulders began to relax. Fink sneezed in a show of playfulness and gave a sideways glance to his quarry. “I came all the way back from the river to bring you this feast and it’s just gonna rot and stink up the hut if you don’t eat it.”

“I’ll eat it,” Thorn offered, earning a jab in the belly from Fink.

She continued to watch them a moment before slowly sitting back on her sooty haunches and considering. “I don’t get it. What’s the catch.”

“Trout, by the taste of it,” Fink sassed, sighing in mock dismay. “A little embarrassing, if I’m being honest. I’ve caught bigger, but I was in a hurry and they tend to be slippery. I had to take what I could get and–”

“I mean, what do you want?” She wasn’t amused. But she was calmer. 

“I…want you to…eat the fish?”

She huffed, squinting at them. “Why don’t one of you eat it?”

“Because we’re not hungry.” Returning to sincerity, Fink took up the fish and walked it around the central fire pit closer to her, stopping just as a twitch in her side warned that she might run. Laying it on the ground gently and turning his back on her to show trust, he resumed a sitting spot near Thorn at the door. “You’re new here. A guest. And we have rules. And rules are, the animals around here are all friends. Well, mostly. We don’t eat guests. And we don’t eat friends. And we don’t let guests eat friends. Or squirrels.”

“But… you’re predators,” she countered weakly, the fish beginning to pull her focus.

“We aaaare,” Fink conceded. “But? There’s enough bugs and shellfish around here for everyone, and plenty of good roots and berries. Someone really special made us understand that we survive better when we’re counting on each other instead of chomping on each other. My big friend here found you and brought you here to help you survive. You seem to be doing nicely with that and you can go, but we’d like to send you off with a full belly so you’re not tempted to eat any of our pals on the way out, capiche?” 

“So you’re not going to kill me.”

Fink and Thorn’s heads swung in unison.

“Too pretty to kill,” Thorn mumbled. Both foxes stared up at him. “What. I’ve never seen fur so white. She glows in the dark.”

They followed his gaze up to the round vent hole in the roof where the moonlight was shining in. The parts of her coat that weren’t besmirched with soot reflected it brilliantly, bluish-white in the darkness of the hut.

And perhaps it was the moonlight or perhaps it was her hunger, but something in her changed just then, grew softer, let go. And thanks to Roz, Fink had learned to see it.

“I’m Fink,” he said. “This collection of fur and odors is Thorn. You can stay as long as you want. Or you can go…but there are more who would probably like to meet you. Thorn? Move it. Let the lady pass if she wants.”

The bear stepped away from the door and let more of the moon in, catching the fish in its sparkling light. Beyond, it also illuminated the clearing outside and the crowd of animals there, predators and prey alike, peacefully side-by-side, trying to get a peek at the newcomer. 

Her eyes–one dark, one light– reflected the moon and her tentative decision not to run. “I’m Farrah,” she said with careful unveiling trust, before settling down and digging into the meal.

A collection of tiny possum voices called from outside. "Nice to meet you, Farrah! Welcome! We're glad you're not dead!"

Thorn bumbled about the hut, tipping things back into place with his nose, trying not to amble too close to Farrah or scare her while Fink simply laid down and, crossing his paws in silence, watched her eat.

Not so long ago, he was just like her. They all were. In one short year, a robot–a machine with a heart–had come and shown them all a better way to live. And for a while, Fink was happy. He had love and family; he mattered to someone. To many someones.

But he hadn’t considered that he might ever matter the most to one specific someone. 

Not until now, at least.

It was spring on the island. And he was a fox. He did foxy things. And maybe one of those things was finally considering what it might be like for a specific someone to matter the most to him.

---

PART 2

MAIN MASTERLIST

[anemoi-i]

Venti’s Presence in Mondstadt and in Lore: A Comprehensive List

Barbatos is an Archon that does everything in secret and wants virtually no recognition for it. Desiring not to become like Decarabian, he "disappeared" so Mondstadt could be free and without a ruler, yet he has still done what he could to retain Mondstadt's peace. Here is a comprehensive list of everything of note that he has done.

Disclaimer: I may miss details. Some things such as character voice lines about Venti, save for Xiao’s are largely omitted. All sources are present.

I. Wind Gliders

“The ability of wind gliders to glide is reliant first and foremost on the Blessing of the Anemo Archon. Of course, it’s also been intertwined with human engineering.”

Wings of Companionship

II.  But I do not intend to make my readers think that we could do without archons. On the contrary, say, if Barbatos had not guided the warm monsoons to Mondstadt with his divine powers, would Mondstadt still be so bountiful as to produce the brews that it does?

The answer would be no. Mondstadt is an inland city and would have struggled to provide for itself if not for the grace of Barbatos. If we look back through history, we learn that Mondstadt is situated on a land that was once frozen, where the living conditions were harsh and brewing would be virtually impossible. It was the power of Barbatos that changed everything.

Along With Divinity: Prologue

III. The songs that had once flown joyfully in the wind were drowned by a venomous dragon [Durin]. In the wake of its earth-shaking footsteps, even the cries and the flames were ripped asunder. The Anemo Archon heard their agony, though he had refused to rule. But to protect his old friends' dream, and defend the wind-kissed fields of green,He woke from his long slumber anew, and with the sky dragon [Dvalin] in battle he flew...

Elegy For The End

IV. In ancient times, Barbatos softly strummed his lyre and summoned the pure thousand winds and songs. Charmed by the free-spirited winds and songs, Dvalin the high dragon descended and swore loyalty to him. Barbatos rejoiced in making a new friend, and entrusted the people of Mondstadt to Dvalin. And so, the wandering Anemo Archon and the Wind Dragon forged Mondstadt's dawn with their relationship.

Skyward Harp

V. On the cliff facing the eastern sea, the ancestors worshipped the masters of Time and Anemo together. The two are intimately related, as expressed in the saying, "Anemo brings stories while Time nurtures them." This bow tells the story of the pioneers and the hardships they went through.

Sacrificial Bow

VI. When Mondstadt was born anew, and the Church finally unshackled, the scriptures of the winds could bear no longer being confined to a shelf, and so the book took flight, left the Church's treasury and was gone. Like the winds of Mondstadt, and like the people of Mondstadt, it belonged to freedom and the winds. The elegant handwriting on the title page reads:

Children of the Anemo Archon, heed these words:

From the winds we have come, and with the winds we shall go.

Never, ever grieve for me.

'Tis but my flesh and bones which rest in the soil:

My soul has become one with the thousand winds.

When flowers bloom, when leaves sway,

That is me who sings the songs of freedom, of the winds.

Lost Prayer to the Sacred Winds: Scriptures of the ancient winds, passed from generation to generation among the observers of ritual in service of the Anemo Archon.

VII. The Skyward Atlas consists of 100,000 odes to a single cloud or wind and calling it by name. The cloud atlas gave form to the winds, and odes infused them with personality. The myriad formless winds are now friends and family in the eyes of Barbatos. Legends tell that in ancient times, Barbatos summoned the four winds with the original version. He thawed the snow, drove away vicious beasts, summoned rainfall, and created Mondstadt.He permitted the atlas to be shared and copied among the people, giving it the name of Cloud Atlas.

­Skyward Atlas

VIII. In the days of the ruling aristocracy, the Church that revered the Anemo Archon was once split in twain by a schism: On one side stood the clergy, who ate at the lords' table, and overturned the archon's statues with them even as they wrote songs and hymns of praise. On the other stood the saints, who held no clerical office, and who walked the streets, the wine cellars, and the world beyond the walls. These saints drank cheap moonshine, blessing the slave and the plebeian with the original holy manuscripts that circulated amongst the people and with words that the wind brought to them.

And while they did so, they penned forbidden songs and poetry.

When the gladiator from a foreign land [Vennessa] arose together with the re-awakened Anemo Archon and raised the banner of rebellion, the aged saint known as the Nameless Shepherd mobilized the true adherents of the Church of Favonius.

Song of Broken Pines

IX. When he opened his eyes, he was in the sky above a mountain swept by roaring snowstorms, the green, tranquil land had already been painted crimson by fire and blood,and the song of that sky-blue bard's lyre was almost drowned in the howling tumult,and that bejeweled, lovely dragon, like a tender lover, had now pierced his neck through with its sharp fangs.

"Farewell, Mother! My journey is ended. I shall sleep beneath this white, shining silver... and perhaps this, too, is good. Farewell, O lovely bard! And farewell, O lovely dragon! Would that we had met in a different time and place, to meet, to sing and dance together!"

So he thought most sincerely as he lay dying.

Durin (Dragonspine Spear)

X. They say that a region's character follows that of its archon, and that this holds true both for the people and the land itself, but was it the unfettered archon who bestowed a love of freedom and wine upon the land and people amidst conflict? Or was it the people who nurtured the Anemo Archon's love of freedom as they pined for it amid the howling wind and frost?

This is a question that can no longer be answered.

Freedom Sworn

XI. Twenty-six hundred years ago was the era of Mondstadt's most ancient inhabitants. They swore a solemn oath, after the new Anemo Archon descended and reformed the world:

"For Mondstadt, as always. For the verdant plains, for the hills, and for the forests of Mondstadt. May they continue to flourish, as always."

"For Mondstadt, as always. For the everlasting freedom of Mondstadt from the blizzard and the tyrant, whose coldness and oppression are one and the same."

­­Royal Longsword (Refers to Gunnhildr Clan & the oath to protect Mondstadt.)

XII. Ludi Harpastum

Ludi Harpastum was established in commemoration of how Barbatos, the Anemo Archon, taught his people to brew wine and live freely. It was a festival meant for all people to enjoy. However, by the time of Vennessa's rebellion a thousand years before Genshin Impact's main story, Barbatos had long departed to avoid becoming a tyrant like his predecessor, while the aristocracy that ruled Mondstadt grew corrupt and abused their power.

The event turned into a mockery of what it originally was. It became an event enjoyed only by the wealthy elites. The head of the Lawrence Clan, the foremost clan among the aristocracy, cared not for the enjoyment of the people and canceled all the games, leaving only the climax of the harpastum. However, only Lord Lawrence's son, Barca Lawrence, had the right to touch that harpastum. Anyone else who dared even approach the ball would immediately face torture. Furthermore, Barca was also given the rights to take the maiden who will throw the harpastum home.

Barbatos awakens during the climax of the Ludi Harpastum in the manga and seizes the Harpastum.

Genshin Impact Manga

XIII. The Letter in the Chasm

Not as if I were to be outfitted as that guardian of Khaenri’ah,

Not as if my destructive self were made to be the lyre of Barbatos,

Not as if I were meant to soar like a Pegasus,

Not if I were the swift, snow-white pair of Morphes,

Add these to the feather-footed and the winged,

And likewise, call for the swiftness of the winds,

And though you should harness these, friend, and offer them to me,

Yet I should be tired to the bone, and worn away by frequent faintness,

My friend, while I would search for you,

The heavens fall to pieces,

And falsehoods collapse.

Mysterious Letter obtainable after completing The Chasm related Archon Quest(s) & World Quests (Information gathered by CatWithBlueHat)

It is important to note that each player who finished these quests only received one line of this letter in Abyssal Language, indicating this is a bigger part of something and made to be very secretive and hard to decipher if not for the efforts of players to translate it.

XIV. The Hexenzirkel

“Once upon a time, it even challenged the Anemo Archon himself, but he replied: “Let us make music, not war, and resolve our conflicts through song.”

Alice, The Mage’s Tea Party (Windblume’s Breath)

XV. Waterborne Poetry

“A soft breeze beckoned me unto a spring. “Sleep, weary wanderer. Your journey is over. May the dancing petals sweeten your slumber.”

Callirhoe, who recalled her journey to Springvale (Waterborne Poetry event)

XVI. Presence as a significant figure to Xiao

He longs for a day to come when he will wear the mask and dance — not to conquer demons, but to the tune of that flute amid a sea of flowers.

Barbatos appears as a cameo in Yakshas: The Guardian Adepti, playing the Dihua Flute. It suggests his music is powerful enough to suppress Xiao’s Karmic Debt. He also has a line for Barbatos indicaing he knows who he is, but cuts himself off.

Yakshas: The Guardian Adepti & Xiao: Mask (Namecard)

Other things to note:

As of Version 4.3 Mondstadt is the only nation that does not suffer from any “filth” that needs to be purged either by a Sacred Tree or otherwise. The battle that took place 500 years ago with Durin did not affect the nation in any way, instead, Durin died on Dragonspine which was already affected by the Skyfrost Nail and is an inhabited land that only Adventurers see as an area to explore. No one lives there. Even with the presence of his “heart”/”core” still beating, it would forever lie in the frozen wasteland unless someone were to deliberately disrupt it.

There are no storms in Mondstadt. Vind, one of the Sisters/Storm Watchers, says that she hopes she never has to do her job.

A large amount of npc’s around Mondstadt, especially in the area of the Anemo Archon statue, revere Barbatos and speak highly of him

It is important to note that during the second rebellion, Barbatos also forged Rex Lapis’ signature to dismantle the Aristocracy, indicating he would go to such lengths to establish freedom for the nation.

Barbatos’ voiceline about Albedo suggests that he knows close to “everything” about him, especially about his fear of “destroying Mondstadt.”

In addition to the above, Barbatos contradicts himself: “Ah, never mind! What goes on within Mondstadt's walls is up to Mondstadt's people to deal with!” Except that twice when the people cried out for help, he awoke to help them and has actively been helping Mondstadt with no recognition. From liberating Mondstadt to helping an Oceanid, this line will not hold any weight in any argument that suggests that Barbatos does nothing for Mondstadt.

Barbatos was already attempting to purge the Abyssal corruption from Dvalin prior to the Traveler’s appearance.

There is irony in Diluc and Jean finding out Barbatos’ true identity considering both the Ragnvindr’s and the Gunnhildr’s were primary protectors of Mondstadt.

The Skyward Atlas suggests Barbatos was originally a catalyst user while Amos’ Bow suggests he changed his weapon to a bow to honor Amos’ memory. He uses Der Frühling (E Skill) in a way a catalyst user might.

His appearance as his dear friend, the Nameless Bard is to honor his memory for the skies, bright sun and birds he could never see. To honor the songs he could no longer play.

[silent-browser]

*sigh* oh the tragic romance of a merfolk x human story. Neither can be with the other without giving up something important. Usually fins for legs. Also usually their entire family to simply love and exist with this person in a different biosphere. Rarely legs for fins if we wanna go a reverse little mermaid here.

But what if it was different. And no one had to give everything up. And maybe yandere. With a bit of soulmate shenanigans thrown in for flavor.

Imagine if you will, a walk on an empty beach. Headphones in, listening to your favorite song and sining along. Kicking up sand and the smell of the ocean air. Just minding your own business and having a good time by yourself.

Or so you think. Because not far from where you are walking a single quiet audience member hides behind some rocks, wondering why your song, your human song, sounds so similar to their soul song.

The song that they would normally perform for other merfolk in hopes of attracting their perfect life partner. But they had never garnered any attention for it.

So how did you, a weak and squishy human get them so immediately. No creature had ever been so close to repeating his own soul song back to him. And with your own little twist too. Human words and slightly different notes in his soul song. Your song. Our song. He soon found himself refering to it in his mind.

It takes a while of them impatiently waiting for your return and slowly learning your 'walks on the beach' schedule for them to finally make their move.

On the day that changed the rest of your life, you were simply walking along and humming softly to your favorite song once again when you heard the most fantastic voice start to follow along the melody with you. They matched your tone and moved their voice in such a way that it felt like an instant musical connection.

They were worried that you would stop and run away when they started but tried not to let that fear taint their song. If you ran further inland they would have a very hard time following you. Not impossible but certainly difficult. So they took your continued humming as a good sign and continued.

They began to dribble their emotions into the notes. The lonelyness. The fear of an uncaring ocean. The rush of affection they felt when they first heard you singing. The need to see you. Hold you.

Slowly, what started out as a dribble became a riptide of intense emotions they never knew they were capable of feeling. Longing. Jealousy. Want and need so powerful he felt like he would wear out his voice singing it all. By the time he stopped he was mortified that he put all of that on you. And before the first courting gift too! He suddenly felt awful. He gutted his soul when he never ment to and you weren't even singing anymore. What if you didn't want them? What if it was all too much for you? What if you left and never came back!?

You were stunned. Breathless. The emotion. The raw intensity. No words were ever sang and yet the song resonated in the very depths of your being. You felt intimidated to ever even think of humming ever again after that impromptu masterpiece. You wanted to respond but couldn't find the words to, much less the notes like they had. So you instead made your way to the shore where the music seemed to come from and searched. Looking for this person who simultaneously swept you off your feet and explained their life story in one song with no words.

Two star crossed lovers. Separated by the sea. One filled with obsession. The other with curiousity. Both wish desperately to meet and yet both are not quite ready. How strange that love can both bind and seperate. How strange indeed.

Idk where to go with this so no continuations for this one unless I suddenly get inspired. Also the end feels really jarring to me. Mostly because I originally intended for this to continue but I couldn't come up with anything so I just cut it lose. I hope you like it none the less.

[capybonara]

Kingdom of the Dead

Today we dive into parts of Zorca culture and history!

Original post that inspired this is found here!

Unlike most zora, the zorca don't have a kingdom or territory to call their own. In the past, families have tried to settle resulting in disastrous consequences involving groups fighting for resources, and struggling to keep families fed. In the end, existing pods agreed it would be better for all to remain on the move.

The downside to their nomadic life is at times food can be scarce. Adults can go for days without eating but it takes a toll on children and pregnant women. A zorca needs nearly three times the nourishment while pregnant, and without enough it can't come to term. Over the years, zorca numbers have dwindled due to a high infant mortality rate or because many women abstained during lean times.

This has resulted in the zorca turning to monsters as a food source, including sea monsters, though the latter is a dangerous task. Monsters can tie a Zorca’s appetite over for a while, but due to a monster's connection to Gannondorf and the Blood Moon, pregnant women have discovered they carry little to no nutritional value so they avoid eating them and children are forbidden outright. (it's basically dubious food!)

Sea monsters can be a bounty but because they're so dangerous, Zorca don't hunt them often unless times are desperate or if the family feels their numbers can win.

Other families have resorted to scavenging to keep their numbers fed. And while it keeps the waters clean of refuse, it's considered taboo in “polite company” and zorca have been labeled as vagrants due to this behavior in some territories. It has also fueled horror stories that they prey on other races.

🐋 Relationships with the Zora

🫧 Hungry and with limited options, zorca families have turned to other zora for help. Envoys/diplomats like Kaska speak on their family's behalf, appealing to other territories for permission to hunt in their waters.

🫧 In return for hunting rites, zorca have offered their services as monster hunters, escorts, warriors, etc. Bards perform for the entertainment of others, and many trade hard-to-acquire items zora wouldn't normally be able to obtain themselves.

🫧 On rare occasions, a zorca or two have ventured inland, but whatever they brought back was never enough for their large families.

🫧 Every adult does their part to keep the family fed, but each year fewer children are born. Some pods have members from other pods who have long died off, leaving them as the last in their line.

❓Where did they come from? ❓

The zorca themselves don't know much about the origins of their birthplace. Was Gannon behind it? Did their ancestors cause their own downfall? Or is it something else?

The only clues to their history are from the songs of their ancestors...

🪕Bards and their role as historians 🪕

Because Zorca are always on the move and spend most of their lives in water they don't have the luxury of keeping records in books or scrolls. So bards have taken on the role of historian and record keepers. Particular songs have been passed down through generations, each telling a piece of the zorca’s history. And whenever possible, new songs are added to the collection, continuing the tradition of preserving their culture.

Songs of the past are already small in number, adding to the mystery of their origins. Matriarchs have charged bards to commit these songs to memory so they may be passed down, and many spend their entire lives studying the lyrics to uncover any meaning their ancestors may have left behind.

Elder bards will theorize and debate constantly with one another over lyrics. So far, the majority agree with certainty their ancestors dealt with a curse, and a lake might possibly be a place of their origin. As for the how, where and why, that remains unanswered.

The alarming question that hangs over the zorca is why are there so few songs from the ancestors. How did previous generations forget them? Did particular generations die off before they could be recorded? These are questions without answers and no clues on where to even start looking.

Experienced bards gladly take on several apprentices, and help them memorize the songs of their ancestors while also teaching them knowledge of the craft. Each young bard is taught the traditional ways of singing and can choose an instrument of their preference. By the time students complete their apprenticeship, they have discovered their own style and are encouraged to write their own songs and record what they see and experience. 

🎶 The Archive of Hymns 🎶

While a bard is free to create what they wish, only certain songs are chosen to become part of the collection. It's a great honor to have a piece be added to the Archive of Hymns. If records of the past cannot be uncovered, then more stories must be added for the sake of future generations.

Not all songs crafted by bards are added to the Archive. They might have their own life expectancy by becoming folk songs! Unlike those recorded in the Archive, a variety of these songs are altered by other musicians and given exaggerated details with each telling, and some may be forgotten over time.

Young bards are never discouraged, however. Not every song needs to be profound. A bard has a job as historian but they also sing to tell stories that evoke emotion in their audiences!

🫧 How does a song earn a place in the Archive?

There are certain stipulations a song must meet to be added to the Archive. While meter is something every bard strives to perfect, it is the lyrics and the emotion they invoke which are the main focus. Songs that tell a story, and solidify a piece of their dying culture are few and far between, and treated like gold.

It was agreed generations ago that all history must be preserved. Even the stories that depict their people in a negative light. Every piece must be studied so it can help the zorca lead future generations on better paths than where they are now. The songs each bard creates are given to the council so they can be judged.

No one is turned away. Save one.

[tanoraqui]

[spins the Silm Headcanons Nobody Else Shares (Yet) wheel]

Though Elrond was, inevitably, involved in the politics of building Lindon, he was not only NOT Gil-Galad’s official herald yet at the start of the Second Age, but he was only tangentially involved with the new government. Instead, Elrond spent the first few centuries of the Second Age as an adventuring anthropologist/archeologist.

He traveled around Lindon, and inland and up and down the shore, talking to all variety of refugees and recording the histories and cultures of their people, from ancient myths to recent war stories to how this group of Men (or Elves or Dwarves) cooks their porridge vs how that one does. He dug and sometimes dove into ruins of forts rent by Light and Shadow, often with foul lingering malaise, to retrieve papers and goods warped by flame, sea, and worse.

Because Elrond’s childhood was filled with many refrains of loss, and one was,

“This is how we baked nutcakes in Menegroth!” his mother explained, hands sticky with chestnuts and honey. Under her breath, not meaning her even stickier sons to hear, she added, “I think.”

“Oh yes, there were…” Eärendil’s fingers twitched as he counted in his head. “…eleven different major fountains in Gondolin! One for each Great House, though all were managed by Lord Ecthelion—oh, no, but then that must be ten…?”

“Now, in a proper course of musical education, I would be starting you on basic dancing songs today. But Filúriel is the only one of us left who knows how to dance a good gavotte—”

“Filúriel died three years ago. Orcs on the way back from Sirion.” Maedhros didn’t look up from the daggers he was sharpening. Only his words gave any indication that he was even aware of the lesson taking place across the room.

“—But there is no one left who knows how to dance a good Tirion Gavotte.” Maglor never missed a beat. “So instead I will start you on basic Songs for striking fear into the hearts of your enemies. Have you both done your warm-up exercises today?”

[smash cut to 200 years later]

Elrond: Are you telling me. That there is a chance. That a portion of the Great Library of Thargelion, greatest collection in Beleriand of books and art brought physically from Aman, is still intact?

Random improbably still alive Nargothrond-Fëanorian #6: If the cases were water-proof as well as orc-proof and fire-proof…if they were orc-proof and fire-proof at all…especially dragonfire-proof…or dragon-ice-proof… If they stayed hidden, if we even shut them all properly in the first place, as we evacuated just ahead of the— my lord, where are you going?!

Elrond, sprinting past them down the corridor: Deep-sea diving!

(In the late Third Age, the Library of Rivendell is widely regarded as Arda’s single greatest repository of historical records of life in Middle Earth. This is incorrect—the single greatest such repository is an ever-growing library on Tol Eressëa, to which Elrond spent 3000 years sending copies of everything from Hobbit almanacs to Dwarvish epic poems to account books from three Elvish kingdoms to an Age’s worth of Dúnedain Ranger journals. Anyone Sailing with extra cargo space has been cajoled into taking at least a few tomes. People and places may be lost to time, but part of why he chose an Elvish life is so that they will not be forgotten.)

[monstersandmaw]

Laces for a Lady - 18th century poly shifter romance (Part one, sfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me. 

Well folks, here it is. You said you were interested, so I hope it meets expectations! Here's part one for you, of a multi part story. If you want to kno wmore about it, you can find some more info here, as well as a little 'mood board'.

Content: sfw, the daughter of a country gentleman from Sussex relocates to a sleepy fishing village in Cornwall in order to become the paid companion of a young widow, and meets some of the locals on her arrival. Wordcount: 3972

Five and twenty ponies, Trotting through the dark - Brandy for the Parson, 'Baccy for the Clerk. Laces for a lady; letters for a spy, Watch the wall my darling while the Gentlemen go by! ~ from ‘A Smugglers’ Song’, Rudyard Kipling (1906)

In the cool, lavender light of a late spring dawn, a gaff-rigged cutter drew into the sheltering arms of a small bay at high tide, and quietly dropped anchor. As if the soft splash had awoken him, a cockerel spluttered to life in a farmyard somewhere inland, but most of the villagers were already up and awake and steering their small, secret fleet of boats out from the golden crescent of sand beneath the cliffs to meet the waiting ship fresh from Roscoff.

Beneath the waves, where churning kelp moored itself in unyielding handfuls to the ancient granite of the sea floor, a long, serpentine shadow snaked between the stalks, and the currents of the coastline subtly shifted. Any revenue men trying to sail along the coast from Fowey to catch the smugglers would have found the wind and tide set dead against them, and in the subtle wake that wafted from the mottled, eel-like tail as it passed unseen, the waters of the secluded inlet calmed beneath the keels of the scurrying fishing boats. The drag of the oars through the waves lessened, and muscles already tired from heaving and hefting goods up the cliff moved a fraction easier for the unexpected boon.

Between them over the next hour, the gathered men and women shifted their haul of half anker barrels and dozens of crates and boxes of goods ashore. The small kegs of rich, French cognac would fetch a pretty price all across Cornwall, and along with the liquor came smaller luxuries like lace and silk, and bundles of tobacco and spiced tea, all meticulously wrapped in oil cloth to keep the sea and the salt and the water out.

And when the speedy, slender ship was riding noticeably higher in the water, the locals simply melted away into the countryside like so many mice from a late summer granary before the excise men even knew the ship from Guernsey had visited the cove at all.

Fifteen miles away, as the sun breached the horizon and cast its first rays of warmth along bellies of fleecy clouds and the flanks of blossoming hedgerows below, a stagecoach lurched and rumbled westwards along potholed roads, and a young woman stared out of the grimy window as the horses carried her into a new chapter of her life.

After leapfrogging some two hundred miles or so along the staging stations that dotted the South Coast, with nothing but a small trunk of her belongings and a thrice-read, dog-eared novel for company, Eleanor Bywater was more than ready to see the back of that infernal stagecoach. Had it not been for the small but inconveniently bulky travelling case sitting at her feet, she might have hired a horse and ridden from the last staging inn at Plymouth to reach the secluded fishing village of Polgarrack, but given that the trunk held all her worldly belongings, she had not been quite desperate enough to escape the discomfort of hard seats and poor suspension to abandon it.

Bouncing along in the nearly-empty stagecoach, she studiously tried to ignore the older woman sitting opposite her. She’d stared intently at Nel since they'd left Plymouth behind that morning, and her scrutiny had begun to make that last twenty mile stretch feel much, much longer.

Finally, after jouncing over a pothole deep enough to start prospecting for copper ore at the bottom, Nel gasped and then raised her eyes to meet the woman’s openly curious stare. She found sympathy for her own discomfort, and a small degree of kindly amusement too. 

“Where are you headed, miss?” the stranger asked after Nel raised the hint of an eyebrow at her as the silence stretched.

“Polgarrack.”

At that, the woman’s grey eyes narrowed in confusion. “Now what takes a young miss like you to an old fishing village like Polgarrack?”

She looked to be in her fifties, though a life beside the harsh sea had weathered her features somewhat, and her wiry grey hair was covered by a simple linen cap. Her dress was dark and plain, though there was a hint of tired lace around the neck and cuffs. Her hands had the tough, reddened look of someone who scrubbed pots and salted fish, while Nel’s own hands were smooth and soft, if a little ink stained from sending a letter to her friend before leaving the inn that morning.

Nel laughed quietly and shrugged. “There’s no mystery to it,” she said. “I am to be employed as a companion to the widowed Lady Penrose at Heath Top House. I am expected there this afternoon.”

Given that only ladies of relatively high social standing themselves tended to become a ‘lady’s companion’, the older woman made a hasty re-evaluation of her fellow traveller, and her already ruddy cheeks flushed a darker shade as she cleared her throat and looked away.

“Begging your pardon, miss,” she said. “We don’t get many new faces in Polgarrack, is all. I didn’t mean to pry or cause offence with my questions.”

“No harm in a little curiosity,” Nel said, trying to put the stranger at ease to avoid any further awkwardness between them on the remainder of their journey. “I take it you’re from Polgarrack yourself then?”

“Oh, born and raised, miss,” she chortled. She eyed the forest green redingote Nel wore, with its rather masculine high collar, wide lapels and small, gold pocket watch dangling on a chain, and the contrasting sage green skirts beneath, and no doubt made one or two judgements of her own about the young lady. “And yourself? You don’t sound as though you’re from these parts at all, if I may be so bold.”

Nel smiled. “I’ve come from Sussex.”

The woman’s watery, grey-blue eyes widened almost comically and she gasped. “’at's a bloody long way, miss! And all on your own?” She shook her head but remembered herself and mumbled, “Begging your pardon.”

“You’re right,” Nel sighed, letting her gaze slide to the window to watch the countryside roll past in a blur of salt-bleached grass and vibrant yellow gorse flowers. “It is a bloody long way.” And her spine and backside felt every lump and bump and lurch of the stagecoaches from Sussex to Cornwall. With a warmer smile, she turned back to the woman. “My name is Eleanor, but most people call me Nel.”

“Agatha,” she replied with a grandmotherly smile of her own for the young woman. “But everyone calls me Aggie. My husband, Martin, is the village carter and smith, and we’ve got four boys, all of them either fishermen or miners. They all married too, so I’ve got nine grandchildren, if you can believe it!”

Nel offered Aggie her congratulations and another little smile, and then ventured to ask, “Will you tell me a bit about the place? I should like to know more about it, since it is to be my home for the foreseeable future.”

Aggie brightened even more and shuffled her plain, dark skirts, giving a wince and a grunt as the coach lurched over a pothole and the driver cursed audibly above them. Settled, if not entirely comfortable, she began.

“Well, see now. Folks has been fishing these waters for time out of mind. Pilchards is our mainstay, o’course, but the folks over St. Austell way mine clay, and obviously there’s copper and tin mines all over in the north of Cornwall. Mining here is as old as fishing, but it’s starting to dry up here and there now, o’course.”

She barely paused to draw breath before barrelling on, and Nel sat and listened while the older woman talked.

“Now, your Lady Penrose married into the Penrose family — see, she’s from Bath herself originally, though I can’t rightly remember what her family name was, but…” Nel let Agatha's potted history of the fishing and mining community wash over her, paying just enough attention to make polite sounds at the right pauses, but the discomfort of the journey and a decided lack of sleep was beginning to wear her attention span down to a single, fraying thread.

After two hours in the swaying, rolling coach, she felt woozy and weak-stomached, but with Aggie’s near-constant chatter, she at least had a better understanding of the politics of the little village than she’d ever have gained in six months on her own. She’d also learned why Aggie had been in Plymouth, since most folks never had any reason to travel further than the bounds of their own parish. Agatha’s sister’s husband had apparently been killed in the American Revolutionary War some ten years earlier, and since the widow’s health wasn’t the best these days, Aggie made the trip along the coast when she could to see her and take care of her.

Nel’s ticket took her as far as Whitcross, a desolate intersection of paler roads on a clifftop overlooking the tightly-nestled fishing port below, and away across the heather and tufted grass of the heath, she could just see an old manor house in the distance, flanked by tall copper beeches and ash trees. It looked slightly further away than she had anticipated, and she glanced apprehensively down at the travelling trunk at her feet.

Still, she was aching for fresh air and to be free of the sickening motion of the carriage, so she took the driver’s hand and allowed him to guide her safely down onto the hard-packed surface of the road before he lifted her case down for her as well.

From inside, Aggie peered out and scowled disapprovingly. “Now just you wait a moment,” she barked at the driver, who cocked an eyebrow but did pause. “Did they not send someone for you, dearie?” she asked Nel, still leaning out of the doorway and peering about like a disgruntled badger, and using the endearment freely. Apparently, two hours of talking non-stop at Nel had removed any pretence of formality or sense of social distance. Nel might as well have been adopted into Aggie Carter’s family as a niece by that point, and she couldn’t help but smile at the warmth it conjured in her chest.

“I… I never thought that far through,” she admitted, with her hand atop her bonnet as the wind gusted up from the sea below, soaring delightedly over the edge of the cliff and racing on inland as if to continue the momentum of the great rolling breakers that foamed and thundered against the shore. The coachman glanced at his pocket watch and groused something about a schedule that was almost immediately lost to the next inward gust.

“No, no, dearie,” the old woman scoffed. “No, you must come into the village. It’s far too far to go all by yourself, and with that case as well. Here, let me —”

“I can manage the case, I assure you,” Nel said with a gentle smile as Aggie half-toppled, half-leaned out of the coach to pick up the case. “How far is it to the house?”

“Two miles up that hill yonder,” Agatha said, pointing with one gnarled and arthritic finger towards the house on the rise to the north. “Come to the Lantern, and we’ll have one of the lads take you up once you’ve caught your breath.” The Lantern, as Nel now knew thanks to Aggie’s detailed prattling, was the inn at the centre of the village, right on the water near the harbour.

She had been about to protest, but with a sigh, she simply nodded. The constant journeying and jolting had worn her down more than she cared to admit, and while she wasn’t the kind of wallflower she’d met any number of times in London during the Season, a life led mostly indoors with few opportunities for physical activity had not prepared her for a two mile walk in heavy, too-fine clothes, carrying an unwieldy case in gusty conditions. Her family had been invited a number of times to Goodwood House to walk the large park there, and she had frequently ridden a rather spirited mare through the parkland of Lavington Hall with her dear friend William, so she was not entirely unused to the great outdoors, but she did have to admit that her experiences had been rather more curated and sanitised than the wild expanse of heathland visible on all sides of the stagecoach from Whitcross.

“You’re kind, Agatha,” she said, and let the woman heft her case into the otherwise empty coach.

The thing about a tiny village was that an outsider stood out a mile, and a young lady in her mid twenties and dressed in impractical, rich green clothes, stood out like a beacon in a dark night. Everyone turned to watch her as she disembarked from the coach. At home, she had barely garnered a look from anyone. Being the centre of everyone’s curiosity there was novel and, in a word, horrifying.

She almost blurted aloud that one would think she was a revenue man come inspecting for smuggled goods, but she bit it back just in time. Cornwall’s so-called ‘free trade’ and smuggling rackets were absolutely none of her concern as an outsider, infamous though they may be, and it would do her no good to start sticking her nose where it did not belong.

The Lantern was a half-timbered, two-storey building that faced the walled harbour. Its painted sign was peeling and sun-bleached, and it squawked something dreadful as it swung back and forth in the squalling wind. Mullioned windows glinted and shimmered, though the small, diamond panes were caked with a haze of salt spray, and alongside the inn, a hand-cart rumbled down from a narrow side alley towards the harbour beyond, where fishing boats bobbed on their mooring lines at the lapping high tide.

Agatha pushed open the black-painted door but came to an abrupt halt as someone appeared to be leaving the inn at the exact same moment, and nearly barrelled into her and Nel.

“Oh, excuse me,” came a young man’s hoarse tenor, and he stepped aside within the inn’s small porch to allow the two women to enter before he left.

Nel noted briefly that he wore well-made but plain clothes, and carried a hefty looking cane in his left hand, upon which he leaned while he waited for them to pass. He was pale and thin, his undyed linen shirt hanging loosely off his shoulders, and his light brown hair was tied back at the nape of his neck into a horsetail. The moment he met her eye, he inhaled in surprise and almost immediately looked away, his large, dark brown eyes turning shy and uncertain. “M’lady,” he mumbled without looking up.

She didn’t have time to correct him and tell him she had no such title, because the moment she had stepped inside, he was off out into the day beyond, limping markedly on his right leg as he went.

Nel turned back to find Agatha waiting for her, watching. “That there was young Edmund Nancarrow,” she supplied as Nel caught up with her. “Local lad. Lots of Nancarrows in this area,” she chuckled. “Can’t move for tripping over a Nancarrow. He was a shy, skittish thing even before he went off to war in the Colonies and came back with a bad leg,” she added. “But he’s a sweetheart if ever I saw one. Tailor’s ’prentice he is now.”

At that, Nel just nodded. Something in her ached when she realised she probably wouldn’t have much to do with the folk from the village once she was ensconced up at Heath Top House, and she half wised she could. They already sounded far more interesting than the Lady Winnifred Penrose, with whom Nel had only exchanged a short flurry of letters before becoming formally engaged as her ‘companion’. 

Still, an unmarried woman of Nel’s age and social standing was considered almost past her prime, and given that the few marriage proposals she had received had faded into the mists of her very early adulthood, she had had to find another respectable way to support herself. Hence, Heath Top House.

Aggie bustled her into the main room of the pub, and their arrival caused a flurry of activity that drew the eyes of a good few patrons. 

Seated at the wooden bar inside, hunched over a pewter tankard, sat a tall, bulky man in his late-thirties or early forties, with long, thick, dark grey hair shot through with a shimmer of silver white. He had it tied back off his face in a low ponytail at the nape of his neck and as he turned to regard Nel’s arrival, she met unusually deep green eyes surrounded by a web of crows’ feet lines in a tanned, weathered face. His scowl was dark and full of suspicion, but even the storm clouds in his expression couldn’t mask the fact that he was handsome, in a rugged, rough-hewn kind of way.

When she saw where Nel’s attention had snagged, Aggie let out a little gasp and snatched her by the upper arm to steer her towards an empty table in a bay window, about as far from the wooden bar where the man still sat and glared at them as it was possible to be. 

“And that’s Locryn Trevethan,” Aggie hissed as she saw Nel settled into a seat. “Can’t say as I’ve seen him in here more than a handful of times this year though. He’s usually out on the water. Lives alone in an old stone cottage round the bay from here, up at Pilchard Sands. You’d probably best be giving him a wide berth, miss. Not that he should give you any trouble, mind,” she amended carefully, “But he’s not for the likes of you to go mingling with.”

Nel smiled at the protective tone in the older woman’s voice, and nodded once.

With her warning given, Aggie raised her voice and called over to the old man behind the bar. “’ere, Tom! This young lady needs a ride up to Heath Top. You think you can arrange that for her?”

The stoop-shouldered, white-haired man nodded and knuckled his forehead at Nel across the space. “Not the finest, but we got a cart.”

“If you have a horse, I could ride,” she said, trying to be helpful.

“Ain’t got a saddle for a lady,” he said regretfully.

Memories of galloping through the leafy trees of Lavington Hall’s parkland with William flashed across her mind and she suppressed a smile. She certainly hadn’t ridden the grey mare side-saddle while keeping up with her childhood friend, and although it had been a year or so since she’d sat astride a horse instead of side-saddle, she thought she could manage well enough. “I know how to ride a man’s saddle,” she said, “But I do have a travel case I’d need to send someone back for.”

“I could get one of the lads to bring that up for you after,” said Tom, “But it’s almost as much effort to hitch up a cart as it is to tack up a horse for riding, ma’am.”

“Whatever is the least trouble for you will do fine,” she said, and the stoic, weather-beaten old man’s red cheeks darkened and he ducked his head.

While Tom left to sort out transportation to the house, Aggie flapped about getting some refreshments for Nel, leaving her to wait at the table alone.

In the wake of the hubbub and pother Agatha left behind her, Nel took a long, deep breath looked around to find Locryn Trevethan still staring across the room at her. Taken aback by his directness and the intensity of his glare, she tried to smile, but his expression remained thunderous beneath strong, dark brows, and she quickly looked away, embarrassed.

In a face turned to leather by the sun and sea-wind, wide cheekbones and a heavy brow framed his piercingly green eyes. Never mind that marked crow’s feet around his eyes that made him look like he would rather have been laughing; the contrast between the dark, hostile glower and the soft laughter lines unnerved her and made her feel off-balance, as though her stranger’s presence in their local pub had unknowingly raised the ire of a usually gentle man. 

He had a short, neatly-trimmed, salt-and-pepper beard around full lips that were currently turned down at the corners and which bore a silver-pink scar across the middle. Despite the warm day, he wore a fisherman’s dense, woollen sweater, and when she risked another look back at him, she found him still frowning openly across the bar at her.

Nel didn’t relax until Aggie returned, at which point the man snapped abruptly out of his trance, slammed a coin down on the bar, and strode from the pub on long legs that were thick as tree trucks at the thigh. The door bounced back off the plasterwork in his wake and his boots rang on the flagstones outside.

“Not one to welcome strangers, I take it,” Nel muttered, and downed half of the cheap, watered-down wine that Agatha had set on the table for her.

“Oh don’t you pay him no mind, miss,” Aggie scoffed, settling herself down into the seat opposite her like a brooding hen and glaring at the pub door. “He don’t seem to like no one in Polgarrack save for sweet Ned Nancarrow, strangely enough. Then again, I ain’t met no one who’s taken a disliking to sweet Ned. Now, Tom will have the horse and cart ready for you in just a moment, but you just take your time and recover after your journey.”

Nel, who had felt ten times better the moment she’d taken her first proper lungful of sea air on stepping out of the swaying stagecoach, looked across the table into the older woman’s face and found a mother’s kindness and compassion in her wrinkled face, and something twisted in her gut. “You’re very kind,” she whispered, unable to muster anything more. “Thank you.”

She chuckled. “You know, and don’t you take this amiss, but you remind me of my niece a little, though she’s a little younger than you.”

Nel’s eyebrows twitched in wry amusement, and Agatha blushed at the impropriety of her words. Nel didn’t get the chance to reassure her because Tom shuffled back in and told her the cart was ready for her.

She laid a coin on the table for the wine and stood, following the innkeep out into the yard and clambering up with her case into the back of the cart. It was hardly a very dignified mode of transport for someone of her station, and when Tom said as much while they rumbled out of the inn’s yard, Nel just laughed and said she didn’t mind.

“Anything is better than that awful rolling stagecoach,” she beamed, and swung her legs back and forth like a child off the back of the cart bed while Tom clucked his tongue at the horse to hurry up.

As they trundled up the narrow, cobbled street from the harbour, they passed Edmund Nancarrow standing outside a tailor’s shop, talking with the beast of a man from the bar. Both men looked up and watched her pass like she was some kind of rare spectacle.

In a way, she supposed she was. 

Still, she smiled at them despite her nerves, and Edmund knuckled a non-existent cap at her with a shy smile, while Locryn just glared.

She sighed and wondered what this next chapter in her life would bring.

___

Next chapter ->

Well, what did you think of it so far? I can't wait to hear your thoughts on it, as always!

I hope you’ll consider reblogging as well as leaving a like if you enjoyed it. Take care, and I hope you have a lovely day/night wherever you are, and whenever you read this.

| Masterlist | Ko-fi (tip jar)

[carnivorousyandeere]

Merfolk; Always With You

water, singing, alluring

Day 8 of @yandere-sins’ Monstober and @ozzgin’s Yantober! Thinking of Hans Christian Andersen’s mermaids, where having legs is excruciating… but still, she’d walk 500 miles, and she would walk 500 more, just to be the mer who falls down at your door~ la la la la!🕺🎵

CW: thalassophobia, deep sea, drowning, stalking, dehydration I guess? Ask to tag!

The night is cold and beautiful, stars shimmering overhead and algae glowing where the sea kisses the shore. Shivers run across your body at the waves around your feet, the cold, salty breeze stinging your skin. The sound of the waves rolls through you. Inexorable, consuming. The steady rhythm that allows water to cut through stone. And through it all, a voice— dancing effervescently along the seafoam, delving into the deep beyond the reach of sunlight, and back up.

When did you walk so far out?

You teeter on the edge of a sharp drop, the sand gives way, and you just sink. Seaweed wraps around you, dragging you down into the dark.

You wake with a startle, retching at the taste of your own sweat.

No matter how far inland you fled, the song you’d heard at sea haunted you. That monster, beautiful as it was terrible, whose voice had followed you all the way home… you could almost feel the slimy embrace of those tentacles that had writhed at the edge of your boat out at sea.

You try your best to shake off the memory of the cold winds and water, pulling your blankets tight, but sleep eludes you. Tree branches tap against your windows like skeletal fingers in the wind, raindrops beginning to plop onto the panes. A raven croaks.

The Mermaid is close now. Your presence sings to her blood, the same way she sings to you. She hasn’t stopped singing since you left her. Each step on land with unfamiliar human legs is agony, and still she follows you. Her throat is dry, her lips cracking apart, and still she sings for you.

The raven croaks again, just outside your window.

[magic-is-something-we-create]

The Millennium Saga Book Four: Fate Weavers - a formal WIP intro

This is book four of The Millennium Saga! Intros for the first three can be found here: Firebreathers [X], Echoseers [X], and Goddess-Touched [X]

“It’s only happening to one piece of him at a time,” she says. “You take the left. I’ll take the right.” A bleary blink, as her words sink in. A flicker of hope—one I have to nurture, because I can’t handle the idea of losing it—and I join her in reaching for him, even as his extremities spasm and dematerialize in random, quick bursts. And together, we lift him up. Her sea-slick, shivering hand clasps my shoulder as I clasp hers, each with one of my brother’s arms thrown over our necks. Her grip is tight, even as her breaths are shallow, and mine still pants little clouds into the night air as we limp towards the shore. As we drag him—no. As we drag ourselves, because even accounting for the periodically-disappearing limbs, he’s easily twenty pounds lighter than he should be, his cheeks hollow and stomach concave and wrists sharp when they’re material. As we drag ourselves along, step by painful step, the rest of the world starts gradually coming back into focus.

Genre: High fantasy/Steampunk Target Audience: New Adult/Adult POV: First person present, Multi-POV Themes: Anti-Imperialism, trauma and recovery, hope and hopelessness, the stigma surrounding mental illness, the differences between vengeance, atonement, and justice, the separation between faith, religion, and deities, death and life and which one defines humanity more, and the struggle to rebuild after disaster.

Draft one in extremely early stages as of October 27th, 2024.

A Flex is a life altering thing, on the off chance of survival.

A second Flex is almost unheard of.

An interrupted song; a plea from Death Herself; a single voice calling for understanding and forgiveness, lost amid the tide. And the savior, bedridden, while everyone who has just become survivor races to pick up the pieces of what he’s done.

And in the potential end that all diplomacy fails, that the land-walking people of the world must retreat inland and up-tree, there still need to be options.

To Andy, those options center airships. To Nimbus, they center hovertech. To Annie, it’s peace with The Shadow. To Isa, the wounded. To Ember, their family, safe, alive—a goal that feels further from reach every moment.

And to Lakia, those options center vengeance.

The ocean has yet to quiet. The Fourth Eternal has yet to show her face.

And time is running out for the world.

The taglist for The Millennium Saga will now be maintained below the cut on this post! If you'd like to join it, let me know in which ever way is most comfortable for you!

In addition to that, you'll also find another version of the banner below, because while this one was my favorite of the versions I tried, I am quite proud of the glass and ironwork on the other one.

Taglist:

@ladywithalamp ; @lavenderrosewrites ; @47crayons ; @writeblrfantasy ; @ashen-crest 

@dragon-swords-prophecies ; @faithfire ; @lexiklecksi ; @writingrosesonneptune ; @trixierosewrites

Alternate banner:

[dailyadventureprompts]

any ideas for a druid villain who isn't a pro-environmentalism "extremist" who opposes the #just'n'kind authorities and such? i'd like to do one but honestly most suggestions are just to make a fantasy anti-civ unabomber and idk im not too crazy about the concept

Villain: The Eelmonger

While the scholars debate whether it is nature, society, or fate that makes a person cruel, remember my student that none of these things are kind or fair to most whom they govern. -From the diaries of Tarraji, country tutor

Hooks:

Every year a great festival is held across the kingdom to honour the queen's birthday, a tradition started by the previous rulers to celebrate the long-sought birth of their first heir, but maintained by the current sovereign as a means of sharing a little of her prosperity with her subjects, the crown footing most of the bill for the event. This year, just as people (and the party) are crowding into the rivermarket to enjoy the festivities, a horde of grotesque aquatic monsters surge from the water to rampage through the town.

Two days later when the last of the beasts is either slain or driven off, word arrives that similar attacks have occurred all up and down the central waterway, paralyzing the realm's economy and making travel tremendously dangerous. The party could go hunting the worst of the rivermonsters, or they could sign up to protect a daredevil merchant's cargo and make a small fortune crisis trading.

Along with all this chaos an old threat reemerges, pirates with a long hatred of the realm trawling for plunder in the wake of the rampage. Apparently exempt from the wrath of the seabeasts that still lurk in the rivers and canals, they fly a new flag bearing images of sharp-toothed eels, and sing songs in praise of an unseen master.

Dressed like a peasant and exalted by outlaws, the enigmatic figure known only as the Eelmonger has emerged seemingly from nowhere to overthrow the realm and topple the queen from her throne. Who is she? Why her unprecedented attack? How is she able to turn the great predators of the deep into warbeasts bent to her aims? Among all the uncertainly all that can be known is that she has seemingly declared war against the realm, and will not stop till the queen and any who support her have been reduced to meals for the ocean's scavengers.

Background: Sha's parents thought it was very lucky for their daughter to be born under the same stars as the crown princess, as in the old traditions of the kingdom such "celestial siblings" were thought to share their fortunes, and as poor fisherfolk eking out a meagre living from the sea that fortune was dearly needed. As Sha Grew however it became apparent that the stars played a cruel game of favourites, and whatever luck the oneday queen was given was taken in equal portion from Sha's own: The day the princess was thrown from her horse and rose mirraculously unharmed was the day Sha tumbled over the side of her family's boat in a calm sea and somehow broke three bones, the announcement of the king's recovery from the brittle sickness reaching Sha's village the same day they put her long-ailing father in the ground.

These transgressions were manifold, too obvious and cruel to be mere happenstance, and over the years and the grand festival-birthdays Sha's resentment at her distant royal sister and the injustice of fate filed her sharp and cold as a gutting knife. Things paradoxically got a little better during the pirate wars, when those foreign fleets took the town she lived in as their fortress, burning and pillaging many other settlements along the coast and great river. Sha, now a woman grown, felt her fortunes had reversed, as the pirates were all to happy to pay for her catch with handfulls of stolen coin, and her expertise with local cuisine saw her elevated to the position of landbound galleycook, feeding whole crews of cutthroats in between their inland raids.

It was not to last however, after a few brutal years on the defensive, the princess and her allies rallied and launched an offensive that shattered the invader's fleet and ousted them from the lands they'd set to conquer, culminating in a battle that saw Sha's town (and the life she'd built there) burnt to the ground. It was in the midst of that fighting, trapped beneath burning rubble that Sha saw her celestial sister for the first time, glorious and beautiful and totally ignorant of her existence, scaling the ruins of Sha's happiness on her way to future glory. Sha was pinned there for days, forgotten among the rest of the corpses; it wasn't until a great storm broke and washed the wreckage of the battle out into the sea that she was freed, her druidic powers awakening as she drowned and calling out to those creatures of the brine to aid her. Whatever warpath and hope she had for making a good life in spite of her sister she left below the surface, because as soon as she made landfall she started plotting her path back to the queen.

Goals & Schemes:

Ruination: As strong as her monsters are individually or as a horde, The eelmonger knows her beasts can't challenge the might or logistics of an entire kingdom. However, Sha grew up on the kingdom's waterways and knows that just like small tributaries fed the great trade river, the lives of farmers and merchants feed into the strength of the crown. If she has any hope of evening the playing field Sha must break the system that feeds the realm's warchest even if it means breaking the realm itself in the process. Monstrous chaos and resurgent pirates are just the first step: Targeting the merchants will cause supply shortages and beggar the realm, after that she'll move on to sowing famine in the farmlands. When there isn't enough to go round people will break down into factions, causing the army the well trained army the queen has inhereted to crumble before it ever reaches the field.

Fixing the broken scales: Simply killing the queen won't be enough. Sha reasoned out long ago that if she ever did direct harm to celestial sister whatever fate bullshit that connects them would likely redirect the outcome onto her somehow and that just wouldn't do. Instead she has to settle for making the soverign suffer by proxy, all the while searching for some means of attacking the connection itself. Those pirates directly privy to her plan are out hunting for priests and fortunetellers during their raids, anyone they could kidnap and bring back to the eelmonger to help correct this balance.

Saint of the Brine: Though she has no love for gods, Sha's vengeful ascent is watched over by a coldhearted deity of the fathomless seas, who has umbrage with this particular kingdom ever since the queen's ancestors laid claim to its bays and coastlines by slaying a titanic beast she favoured. The eelmonger is her unwitting instrument of wrath, and whether the gods involvement began during Sha's almost drowning or all the way back were praying for a safe birth is impossible to say. Though the eelmonger has unseen aid throughout her campaign against the crown, if the party is able to make their enemy aware that some god may be the source of her misfortune they may be able to divert Sha's wrath from the queen and the realm's inhabitants.

Art

[a-killer-obsession]

Wavelengths [Killer x Reader, Heat x Reader]

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

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

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

Masterlist || AO3 || Chapter 1

Chapter 23 - We're So Back

Time to get back in action, starting with Treasure Island. Song mentioned: ‘Middle of the Night’ by Elley Duhé

WC: ~5k

Taglist: @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @iggy5055

The seas were fairly rocky between the resupply town and ‘treasure island’, so not much time was spent above deck during the three day journey. Killer and Heat took turns giving you reading lessons to pass the time, between sharpening weapons and Killer showing you how to cook a few simple things. As the island approached it became clear that the reason nobody came here was probably the weather. It was the sort of island that was hard to approach due to the rough waves and sharp rocks surrounding the coastline, with near constant lightning strikes illuminating the otherwise darkly clouded island. Kid had to work hard to direct the ship with his devil fruit, along with Double at the helm, to keep it from smashing against the rocks. They made their way to a small dock in a cove that Double had found marked on the map you’d stolen from the marines, that was somewhat protected from the elements. It wasn't perfect, but the water was at least a little calmer here, allowing for the gangplank to be safely dropped. As predicted, there was nobody standing guard here, no doubt due to a combination of the weather, the difficult waters on approach, and the fact that it wasn’t on most maps. Not that the Kid Pirates were any less focused though, there could always be traps or dangerous creatures on the island instead.

The stash house marked on the map was a short hike inland, so you and Killer led point for the group, with Killer scanning for trouble with his haki and you using the x ray setting on you mask to check for traps, your hand on Killer’s back to help guide you while your vision was skewed. There were a few tripwire traps the marines had no doubt set, but they were easily spotted by the two of you and disarmed before they could do any damage. Working in this way slowly inland you eventually made it to a concrete bunker, right where the map said it would be. Another trap had been set to go off when the door handle was touched, but you were able to notify the others before anyone could be electrocuted by it. Kid used his fruit to destroy the mechanism, as well as tearing the metal door off its hinges for good measure, revealing the well organised crates and shelves of guns, swords, and ammunition inside, covered in a thin sheen of dust that indicated they had probably gone untouched for about a year. After one last check for traps, the crew set about transporting the heavy boxes back to the beach. Deeper stored crates also revealed large stores of long-life emergency rations. The island was definitely being used as an emergency resupply base for marines, and someone was going to get the shock of the century when they turned up and found the place empty. It would no doubt result in more than one marine starving to death, being that this place was likely only visited in case of emergency resupply.

Things were going well, the haul slowly making its way back to the shore, the crew in high spirits at the easy raid. You felt uneasy though, and judging by the way Killer seemed agitated you guessed he was feeling it too. Something was off, but you couldn’t put a finger on it. Sure, without haki or your devil fruit the crew would have been mostly taken out by traps, so it’s not like the island was just free pickings, but something else felt weird too.

“Something feel off to you, Kil?” you mused, switching through a few different visor settings to scan the surroundings but finding nothing of note.

“Mmm, I can’t place it though,” he replied.

“Maybe it's all the electricity in the air from the lightning?” you suggested.

“Yeah, maybe,” he hummed, “it just feels too easy, don’t you think?”

“It's not like it was all daisies getting the map and pose, or getting past all the traps,” Wire joined the conversation as he passed by in long strides, leaving you and Killer at the rear of the congregation.

“I guess that’s true,” you agreed, continuing to follow Killer but still a little on edge.

A flash of lightning directed your attention to the sky, and you could have sworn you saw something dark in the clouds in the fraction of a second they’d been illuminated. Then again, it was only a moment, maybe you were just being paranoid. Convincing yourself you were anxious because of the lighting, you continued down the path with the others.

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled with a close bolt of lightning, momentarily blinding you with the sudden brightness, and when your vision readjusted Killer was right in front of you, his punishers raised and his body shielding you, a long claw digging through the bicep of the raised arm, all the way to the back of it where you could see the bloodied point. With a flick of his wrist he cut the offending foot from the creature that had attacked him, sawing it off in a smooth movement with his spinning blades. The creature let out a shrill scream, flailing its shortened leg and spraying blood everywhere, most of the henchmen covering their ears while you went on the attack.

It was large, some sort of winged lizard, you would describe it as a dragon if you weren't totally sure that those were fictional. Then again, this was the Grandline, all sorts of weird shit happened here. Its emerald green scales shimmered like it was covered in jewels as more lightning struck nearby, illuminating its large figure. It was on par with a small seaking, the claw that had gone through Killer being about the same width as your wrist at its base.

You weren't back in full fighting shape yet, so your strength was limited, and you worried you'd be struck by lightning if you moon stepped to gain enough height for meteor wave, so you focused instead on what you could do from the ground. Killer charged at it again despite his injury, slicing a wide gash across the creature's chest as it flapped its wings and reared up, intending to stomp on him with its remaining front foot. The two of you were agile, and began to work in synchronised tandem, Killer making openings in the scales and you following close behind to use the openings as weak points where you could send through sharp waves of vibrations. It had a similar effect to what a cannonball might, but the large creature showed no sign of going down. Kid joined the fight, the rest of the crew being preoccupied with transporting the haul or too far already to have heard anything. He smashed it on the head with a large metallic fist, but the creature grabbed hold of it and did something unexpected. You thought for a moment that it was going to breathe fire, with the way its mouth and throat began to glow hot white, until a ripple of electricity spread through Kid's metal arm. You felt the electrons charging, and used your fruit to vibrate Kid's arm hard enough that he lost concentration and let the prosthetic fall before the electricity could reach his flesh.

“Fuck, god catch Yin,” he shouted over the rain, which was getting heavy and loud.

“Get out of here, your metal is no good here!” You shouted back.

“We'll get the ship ready to go!” He called back, regathering his prosthetic as he turned and ran before the creature could charge its electricity again.

Killer gave you a nod, and you got back to work, wearing away at the creature bit by bit. Killer was starting to falter, the claw still in his arm and hindering his movements, and you noticed now how much blood there was.

You unsheathed your sword, vibrating and heating it till it glowed red, turning yourself and the blade invisible and charging at the creature. It could still sense you, and sent a stream of electricity after you like a thick laser, but you dodged and weaved, jumping on to its back and running up the long neck before flipping yourself to dive down, using the momentum to drive your blade through the skull of the beast. With the added heat it cut like butter, the tip appearing under the jaw and dripping blood before pulling your blade out and riding the motion as the creature fell dead, gracefully jumping from its head as it hit the ground.

Killer was leaning against a tree, his hand hovering nervously over the claw still in his arm. He'd cut away the rest of the foot, but the claw was still going right through him.

“Nope!” You smacked his hand away, “you gotta leave it in till Mohawk can remove it”

Killer groaned and you rolled your eyes at him. “Big baby,” you pulled up his sash to expose his belt and started to unbuckle it.

“Woah, don't you think it's a bit soon for that?” He tried to stop your hands but you swatted them away.

“Behave,” you tutted, “I just need your belt”

You pulled the belt loose from his pants and wound it around his arm, above the claw, fastening it as tight as you could as a makeshift tourniquet. It made him wince and you tutted at him again.

“There, now let's get you to doc,” you yanked at his shirt to pull him away from the tree and pushed him to walk in front of you, “move it or lose it, big baby”

“You're mean after a battle,” he noted, “I like it”

“Next you're gonna tell me you have a kink for being bossed around,” you flirted.

“Maybe I do,” he purred back. You gave him a harder shove in the direction of the path as a blush swept across your cheeks. You followed him quietly down the path till you met back up with the others, half of them didn't even know anything had happened.

Mohawk rushed over, seeing Killer's arm, grabbing it maybe a little too rough and making Killer audibly wince. “What the fuck were you two doing?” Mohawk yelled, “playing hide the claw?”

“Yeah definitely, there's one in my pussy too,” everyone looked at you in shocked silence, “too far?”

Kid barked out a laugh while Mohawk dragged Killer away to the infirmary. Another strike of lightning nearby reminded you how unsafe this island was so you quickly followed them up the gangplank to go take a hot shower and change into dry clothes.

The ship was still rocking heavily by the time you finished your shower, but it'd at least made it back out to open sea past the dangerous rocks and heavy storm. You could see blue sky breaking through the clouds in the distance as you appeared back out on deck, the rest of the crew hard at work organising and storing the loot. You made your way to the infirmary to see if Mohawk needed any help, giving a short knock on the door before entering in case Killer had his mask off.

“Just me!” You announced as you slid inside, “You need your nurse, Mohawk?

“Can you wear a little nurse uniform?” Killer purred. Mohawk gave him a little smack on his sore side, making him groan.

“Ignore him, he's high as shit on pain meds right now,” the doctor rolled his eyes, “can you grab me some more sutures?”

“On it!” You smiled, glad to be of use. Killer's mask followed you as you moved, you felt a little like a prey being stalked by a predator, the thought made a shiver run down your spine. You brought the sutures to the bedside and Killer grabbed your ass with his good hand, making you squeal in surprise.

“Fucking hell,” you smacked him hard on the chest, “keep em to yourself big guy or I'll paralyze them” you growled. You weren't against Killer being handsy, per say, you just didn't think he would want this if he wasn't high, so it felt more responsible to scold him than to do anything to accidentally encourage it.

“You can do that?” Mohawk asked, a curious, plotting, glimmer in his eyes.

“Yeah I just gotta block the signals in the nerves,” you replied nonchalantly, “it's all just electric pulses”

“Coooool,” Mohawk definitely put that in his back pocket for later.

“How's he looking doc?” You asked, swatting Killer's arm away again. He made a silly little giggle under his mask, he was definitely high.

“Clean in and out,” he replied, tying off a stitch, “didn't hit anything important, he got lucky this time”

“I'm tryna get lucky again,” he tried to roll to grab you, this time Mohawk smacked him.

“That's it, no more moving mr. cloud nine ,” you clicked your fingers for effect and Killer went limp against the bed. Mohawk snorted, picking up the first mate's good arm and letting it flop uselessly to the bed.

“Awwwwww,” Killer pouted like a child scorned. You'd only paralyzed his limbs, his chest and head were still perfectly functional.

Another heavy roll of the ship had to sprawling over Killer, and he snickered as you clambered off him to stand upright again. “Do you need me in here anymore Mohawk?” you asked with a sigh as Killer made another feeble attempt at getting at you, “I have a feeling this one isn't going to behave himself while I'm still in here”

“Nah you're good,” he laughed, “get out of here before I have to sedate him”

You waited till you were at the door to unblock Killer's nerves, laughing to yourself as he audibly whined at you leaving.

After a successful mission, and proving that you were back in action, Kid was intent on having a party to celebrate. The waves were still rough and it was cold outside, still within weather range of the storm island, so unfortunately it had to be indoors. The rain had at least passed but nobody wanted to be out in the howling winds. The crew set up in the galley, most of the tables being covered with plates of shareable food and bottles of liquor, with tapped kegs of beer lined up along the wall. The food on the commander's table was especially stacked high, and you happily skipped over to start picking at it before Kid could come in and demolish the best bits.

It'd been a good few hours since leaving the island, dusk coming in heavy as people sauntered in for dinner a little later than normal to account for how long it took to make this much food. Killer entered not long after you, letting his hand breeze over your waist as he stepped around you to get to his normal chair. His injured arm was held in a sling, and he still seemed a little wobbly on his feet.

“Sorry about earlier,” he scratched the back of his neck with his good hand as he sat, “I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable”

“You're good,” you giggled, “got it all out of your system? I'm not gonna have to paralyse you again am I?”

“I hope not,” he scoffed, “I may have been off my rocker but that was weird as hell”

“Well I promise I won't do it again, unless you ask me to,” you winked, and a faint blush appeared on Killer's neck. “How's your arm?”

“Hurts a little now that the good stuff is out of my system, but its no where near as bad as when I fucked my arm,” he mused.

“How did you fuck your arm?” You asked, it was a curiosity you'd long had. You had to guess by the large amount of deep scarring that it'd been some sort of bad burn, but you couldn't tell if it was from fire or acid, or maybe some sort of devil fruit user.

“Ah, got caught in Heat's crossfire when we fought Shanks,” he scratched the back of his head, a little embarrassed, “not my finest moment but we were all a bit frazzled by Kid's injury”

“I never did ask anyone about Kid's arm either, did Shanks do that?” You asked as you settled in your seat now that you'd gathered a collection of food from the spread onto one convenient plate.

“Nah, his first mate did it,” he replied, working on his own plate. You noticed him reaching for something but with only one good hand it was tricky, so you stood and leaned across the table to start piling his plate with food. “Thanks,” he hummed, pointing at a few things he particularly wanted, which you happily grabbed for him.

“No problem, it's the least I can do after you got hurt protecting me,” you smiled, “I thought his first mate was a gunman? How did he cut his arm off?”

“He didn't,” Killer began picking at his plate as you poured him a drink and slid a straw in before sitting back down. Killer hummed in appreciation at the wordless gesture. “He shot clean through the bone with a haki-infused bullet. Mohawk couldn't do anything out in the field to save it, by the time we got back to the ship the blood supply had been cut off for too long and he had to amputate”

“Fuck, that's rough,” you frowned, pouring yourself a drink. You'd come to find whiskey was your liquor of choice in your time with the Kid Pirates. “Not that a burn that big could have been any fun either”

“It wasn't, but Mohawk is a good doctor,” Killer hummed, “we were out of our depth taking on a yonko that early. I think we'll be ready next time.”

“Yeah? Any plans on doing that soon?” You asked curiously.

“Before the end of the year,” Kid answered for him as he took his seat, followed by Heat, Double and Mohawk. Wire had apparently drawn the short straw for the watch. “But we're not going at it alone this time, and we have a powerful new weapon on our side,” Kid grinned at you.

“You don't seem like the type for alliances,” you noted, “who are you planning to ask?”

“Hawkins and Scratchmen,” he replied with a full mouth, “we're still figuring it out but we're gonna send word soon. One of the islands you two nabbed an eternal pose and map for is a decently secluded, small, spring island with what looks like on the map to be a castle. Island that size can't be too hard to capture, so the plan is to take it for a base when we get closer and then call the other two crews to meet there. A castle that size should be able to accommodate us all okay”

“That seems like a good plan,” you smiled, “I've never seen a castle in person, I hope it's haunted”

“Wait, you want it to be haunted?” Heat almost choked on his food.

“Yeah, have you ever heard of ghost hunters using EMF to detect ghosts?” You asked with an enthusiasm to your voice, “electromagnetic energy is something I can feel and manipulate, so I've always wondered if I could use my powers to sense or control ghosts”

“That's hardcore,” Kid blinked at you, “imagine controlling army of ghosts, that'll fuckin’ spook Shanks”

“Assuming ghosts are real,” you added, “I hope they are though, it would be cool”

“I guess we'll have to wait and see then,” Killer noted. He secretly had his hopes up though, watching you control a army of ghosts would be fucking cool.

Hours had passed, and everyone was well and truly into the partying spirit. The tables had all been pushed to the walls to make space for crew mates playing instruments and dancing. You danced along with them, definitely drunk, a glass of whiskey in your hand. The amber contents sloshed and spilled occasionally as you danced and laughed, spinning in time with the band, the dizzy feeling in your head making you giggle more. Your signature jacket had been ditched long ago as the heat of the alcohol in your veins made you flush, showing off the pale yellow satin slip style dress you wore daringly without a bra, paired with a pair of strappy white shoes with thick heels. Many of the henchmen, as well as the commanders, eyed you hungrily, the spinning making your tight skirt flare slightly and showing off the occasional flash of royal blue panties. Killer had almost choked on his drink the first time he spotted them, he had no doubt the colour was purposeful to tease him, everyone knew it was his favourite.

You pouted as the band took a break, drunkenly stumbling your way back to the raised platform where the commander's table sat to complain.

“Can't you make them play more?” You pleaded to Kid.

“They've been playing for hours, let them rest you floozie,” Kid laughed.

“Who you callin’ floozie?” You slurred, “at least my tits ain't out” you pointed at Kid's open vest. He tutted in response.

“Didn't you tell me once you could control sound?” Killer mused. He was mostly sober given Mohawk had given him strict instructions to not drink much with the pain meds.

“Did I?” You put a finger to your lips in thought, “I haven't done that in ages though”

“Go on then, play your own damn music!” Kid roared.

You gave him an annoyed frown, that quickly turned to a mischievous smile as your lust-addled brain hatched a plan. You smirked at Kid and skipped away, taking a guitar that had been left resting against a wall by one of the musicians and skipping back with it.

“Can you even play that thing?” Kid smirked.

“Not properly, and I mean I don't actually need it,” you replied, shoving the guitar into his hands, “but string instruments use vibrations to make their sounds, so it's fun to manipulate them. It's less ‘playing’ in the traditional sense, and more like using a tool. Hold this for me would ya?”

You handed Killer your drink with a cheeky grin and sauntered over to the approximate middle of the semicircle that the commanders were sitting in, raising a hand towards the guitar. To everyone's surprise it began to strum out a melody, like it was being played by a phantom musician.

“I summoned you, please come to me,

Don't bury thoughts that you really want.

I fill you up, drink from my cup,

Within me lies what you really want.”

Brows raised around the room as you began to sing, none of them having ever heard your honeyed singing voice before. In truth, you weren't as good a singer as you appeared, but your devil fruit allowed you to manipulate your voice as it left you, making it sound exactly as you wanted it to. You added a rhythmic clap to the melody as you continued to sing.

“Come, lay me down

'Cause you know this

'Cause you know this sound”

Suddenly all around you was a burst of music and colours, vibrant ribbons of light spinning and radiating from you in time with the music in hues of purples, pinks and golds. You danced along with it, slow and sultry in time with the building rhythm, the reflections of light on your skin and satin dress giving you an almost ethereal glowing appearance.

“In the middle of the night, in the middle of the night,

Just call my name, I'm yours to tame.

In the middle of the night, in the middle of the night,

I'm wide awake, I crave your taste.

All night long 'til morning comes,

I'm getting what is mine, you gon' get yours, oh no, ooh~

In the middle of the night, in the middle of the night, oh~”

The lights and sounds faded as you returned to just the strumming of the guitar, the beat previously carried by your claps now forming out of the air as you danced, a faint circle of purple swirling around you on the floor like heavy smoke, small flickers of heatless golden flames licking at your shoes. All eyes were on you, captivated by the mystic display.

“These burning flames, these crashing waves,

Wash over me like a hurricane.

I'll captivate, you're hypnotized,

Feel powerful, but it's me again.

Come, lay me down,

'Cause I know this,

'Cause I know this sound”

The wondrous lights and music reignited as the chorus came round again, the flames flourishing to engulf your calves and spread from your feet, sparkling embers floating up from the tips and surrounding you like glitter. Your hips swayed in time as you sauntered around your makeshift stage, your fingertips brushing against Killer's chin in a seductive manner as you passed by, his breath hitching as you did so.

As the chorus ended it was replaced again by the guitar, accompanied now by a faded, echoing rhythm, haunting almost. The clap-like beat returned as your voice did, just as haunting and sultry as the tune as you slowly paced towards Killer, a hand reaching out as if to beckon him with your siren song.

“And just call on me, ah, just call my name

Like you mean it”

The final chorus approached with another explosion of light and sound, the colours even more vibrant than before as images of sparkling stars and asteroids shot past you, like you had lifted into the night sky, or perhaps torn it down to do your will. The pastels and golds that had previously appeared as ribbons now formed vast, glimmering nebulas, morphing and forming the shapes of horses that circled you in grand galloping herds. Your dancing became more energetic, your arms reaching out to the heavens before sliding down your body in a sensual display, your hips swinging in time as you sang. Every eye in the room was on you, many of the henchmen standing crowded at the base of the raised platform to get a better view, hypnotized by the way you conjured a symphony of light and sound from nothing.

As the chorus ended so did your singing, the sound of the guitar now all that was left as you repeated the same chords from the beginning, rounding out your song. There was a great applause as it came to an end, wobbling drunkenly, or perhaps just exhausted, on your feet as you turned and gave a bow to the henchmen before returning to Killer. You took your drink back from him, and slid into his lap like it was the most casual thing in the world. In truth, the performance had made you somewhat horny, showing off for him, and in your drunken state you'd somewhat forgotten about the boundaries you'd put in place, though as your fruit burned through the alcohol and sobered you, you couldn't find the will to get up from him.

The henchmen let out wolf whistles as they disbursed, now that the show was over. Killer coughed to clear his throat as you wrapped an arm around his neck for support and sipped your drink. His good hand naturally found your waist to keep you comfortably on his lap, the other still in its sling but itching to touch your exposed thighs. You'd been careful to sit so your torso was at the opposite side from it, weary of hurting him. Your dancing and focus on him during the song had the desired effect, feeling now the half mast erection he had against the plush underside of your thigh as you sat side saddle across his legs. You could have purred when you felt it as you sat, and you ran your finger under his chin as it tilted towards you, scratching his goatee and giving him a playful smirk before returning your attention back to the rest of the group.

“Well fuck, if you could do that this whole time then why do we even bother having instruments on board?” Kid barked enthusiastically as he rested the guitar against the table.

“Probably because it's exhausting,” you replied, “controlling sound and light like that takes a lot out of me, if we get attacked tonight you can count me out”

“Like your drunk ass could manage a fight right now anyway,” Kid huffed. You poked your tongue at him. “I see the two of you are friendly again”

“Whatever do you mean, Captain?” You replied teasingly, still scratching Killer's chin like he was a prized pet, “can't a girl just take a rest on a very comfy piece of eye candy?” Killer huffed under his mask at your objectification. “Hush, chair” you poked his mask.

“Kinky,” Kid noted with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle before taking a swig of his drink. You gave him a toothy grin and he almost choked on the liquor.

Your attention returned to Killer as you felt him grow harder under you, perhaps he enjoyed the objectification after all. Both of you were tipsy, now that much of the alcohol in your system had burned off with the strenuous use of your powers. You yawned dramatically, nestling closer to Killer. “I'm tired, carry me to bed?” You gave him your best pleading tone as you ran a hand down his front. He may have been down one arm but you knew full well that he was more than capable of carrying you with only one. You swore you felt his dick twitch against your thigh as it strained in his pants. You leaned in close, your mouth near the side of his mask over where his ear would be. “Maybe to your bed?” you whispered in a sultry tone.

He made a little grunt and took your glass from you, placing it on the table behind him before scooping you up onto his shoulder, the hand of his usable arm firmly on your ass, to keep you from slipping of course. The commanders made jeers and whistles as he carried you away, and you flipped Kid off behind Killer's back, laughing at his shocked face as you made your exit.

A/n: I know we don't have the specifics of what happened to Kid and Killer's arms other than a snippet that Benn Beckman was responsible for Kid's but I saw a interesting diagram the other day about how the bullet must have shattered the bone to necessitate amputation and it got me thinking, so this is my personal theories on what happened to them. 

[NEXT CHAPTER]

[soylent-crocodile]

Manocow (Monster)

(Art by Anonymous)

(This was mostly inspired by my love of weird medieval bestiary creatures, as well as being, yknow. A sea cow.)

CR5 CN Large Magical Beast HD6

One of the sea’s strangest creations, the manocow is a rare creature known as a temptor to some men and a savior to others, luring some men to a watery grave and letting others ride to safety on their backs. These are not disparate groups with differing philosophies; a manocow is ruled by whims as shifting as the tides, and one who seeks the sounds of sailors meeting their deaths on the rocks might feel a compulsion to help others in a fortnight. These are motivated neither by malice of compassion, but by a simple curiosity and desire for sensation. Stranded sailors are sometimes known to use manocows for companionship, although their minds are ill suited to interpersonal relationships or conversation.

Manocows are common prey to larger, more powerful aquatic monsters. They are a favored food to sea cats and sea drakes, although drakes have been known to use the hypnotic abilities of manocow to their advantage, letting them lure sailors into the water and snapping up the distracted humanoids. 

Manocows are surprisingly fast and agile swimmers. They can exist safely on land for some time, but their human hands make them poor walkers and drying out makes them at risk for infection; as such, they mostly stay to beaches and sandbars. Their inability to travel inland obviously restricts their diet, and it’s rare knowledge that a manocow has a deep hunger for cabbages, which are inland plants. A manocow will make most any deal for a fresh head of cabbage, although they aren’t good at sticking to such a deal for long. 

This creature looks like a long-horned bull with a long meaty body that ends in a finned tail, but its most unnerving quality is the human hands it bears on its forelegs. Misc- CR5 CN Large Magical Beast HD6 Init:+1 Senses: Perception:+9, Low-Light Vision Stats- Str:19(+4) Dex:13(+1) Con:20(+5) Int:5(-3) Wis:16(+3) Cha:16(+3) BAB:+6/+1 Space:10ft Reach:10ft Defense- HP:63(6d10+30) AC:16(+6 Natural, +1 Dex, -1 Size) Fort:+10 Ref:+6 Will:+7 CMD:22 Resist: Cold 10, Fire 10 Special Defenses: DR2/Slashing and Piercing  Offense- Gore +9(2d8+6) CMB:+11(+13 Bull Rush) Speed:10ft, 50ft Swim Special Attacks: Proficiency with Simple Weapons Feats- Power Attack (-2/+4), Lingering Performance, Improved Bull Rush Skills- Bluff +4, Perception +9, Survival +4, Swim +13 Special Qualities- Bardic Performance (17/day, DC16, Fascination, Inspire Courage +2, Inspire Competence +2), Tempting Song Ecology- Environment- Beach, Oceans (Cold, Temperate) Languages- Common, Aquan Organization- Solitary Treasure- None Special Abilities- Bardic Performance- A manocow is a skilled performer, particularly talented in the vocal arts. They gain Bardic Performance as a bard with level equal to their racial hit die, except they only gain access to Fascination, Inspire Courage, and Inspire Competence. Proficiency with Simple Weapons- A manocow is proficient with all simple weapons. Tempting Song- As an immediate action, a manocow can convince a person who has been Fascinated by its bardic abilities to leap into the water. That person must make a will save with DC equal to the manocow’s Fascinate ability or leap into the water and attempt to swim to the manocow.

[harudnae]

I posted a fic already today, but it's the weekend so here's an extra snack!

I was really obsessed with them when I started writing this so a very horny, very smutty Roger Pirates Monster Trio x Reader fic. This one might be a bit unhinged but hey, at least I had fun!

Well, actually I'm still obsessed so there will be more fics with them.

Also, regarding word count: YES I went overboard. There's roughly 3k of padding around pure smut, you've been warned.

I told you: obsessed.

Also posted on AO3 on 2024.01.19

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Gaban x Rayleigh x Roger x F!Reader (mostly everyone x Reader but every other subcombination is either implied or explicitly included)

Summary: A luxurious summer island, fresh supplies galore, including ripe, sweet and slightly spicy, absolutely delicious but unidentified fruit. What could possibly go wrong?

(A stupidly horny story where Reader's curiosity gets the better out of her, and she gets completely wrecked in return.)

Content warnings : aphrodisiacs, oral sex (Reader giving & receiving), vaginal sex, anal sex, squirting, creampie, sloppy seconds, double penetration, orgasm denial

Word count: <16k

🍑 Forbidden Fruit

After long weeks at sea, the Oro Jackson moors at an uninhabited summer island.

Part of the crew sets up camp under Rayleigh and Gaban's supervision, and the rest is tasked with gathering fresh food.

You got your sea legs long ago, but it's always nice to set foot on firm land once in a while, so you're grateful for the occasion. You've been sent out with the latter group and after scattering in every direction, you're exploring a section of the forest by yourself. The vegetation is dense so you need to rummage through thick bushes to find spots of interest, but you manage to pick up fruits, veggies and herbs that you know of, making sure everything is either ripe and ready to consume, or that it can wait a bit and will still be easily manageable once you're back at sea.

A sweet scent catches your attention and leads you to a small clearing a little further inland. There's a tree there, with bunches of fruits dangling from its branches, a little smaller than apples, deep orange marbled with crimson lines.

You grab a fruit and curiously examine it, feeling the velvety texture of its skin and inhaling its scent. "Ooh, smells like honey, I wonder if it's good?" You carefully press your thumbs into the fruit and it easily splits open, smearing your fingers with sweet juice. You pick the kernel out and tear a small bit from the fruit that you bring to your mouth.

It's tender and soft, melting on your tongue, sweet as expected though not too much, and slightly spicy as you swallow.

You groan in delight. "That's so good! Everyone is going to love this!" You fill up a full basket with the sweet fruit, eating a few of them on the way back to camp. Happy with your findings, you hum a song as you carry the basket full of delicious fruits towards the rest of the supplies.

Crocus sniffs the air as you pass by him, and curiously gazes up.

You beam. "Smells good, huh? I found those earlier!" You proudly show the contents of your basket.

Crocus frowns. "Uh, yeah, but that's a big no. You're going to put that back right where you found it, or this is going to be a long night ashore."

You frown. "Why?"

"Those are fire peaches. The sweet, honey-like scent those have? Basically aphrodisiac juice. The riper those peaches are, the stronger the aphrodisiac is. You gathered enough to turn this whole camp into a literal fuck-fest in a few hours, so..." As he trails out his gaze briefly flickers towards the cabin boys. "That won't do. Sorry, you'll have to find something else." He curiously tilts his head as he glances back at you. "You okay, (y/n)? You look a little pale."

"Uh. Just glad I didn't give any of these to anyone yet", you stiffly say.

Crocus squints. "You didn't eat any either?"

You quickly nod the negative. "Nope!" You force a smile then turn around and make a beeline for the forest. Once you're far enough from the camp you drop the basket, and slump down against a tree, holding your head between your hands. "Fuck... And I ate four of them? Five, maybe? No, nononono this can't be happening. And I lied to Crocus too, so there's no way I can go back on my word now. I'll have to manage somehow... Oh, fuck, I'm so screwed. Fuck!!"

The traitorous fruits, ripe and enticing, seem to taunt you from the basket where they lay.

"Oh, I am so getting rid of you", you grumble, then resume your walk, going as deep into the forest as you can to make sure nobody finds those damned peaches. Once you're done, you gather some more safe fruit and backtrack to join the rest of the crew. You're slightly light-headed when you're back by sunset, and the basket on your head wobbles a little. You try your best to balance it until your reach the tent where the supplies are stocked, but it's slipping from your grasp. "Oh–"

"There, there", Gaban says as he helps you balance the basket on your head again. "You good?"

"Yeah, a little dizzy is all." You clear your throat. "Summer islands, hot weather and all that", you quickly dismiss with a wave of your free hand.

"I'll help you then", Gaban offers, not giving you time or space for refusal as he grabs the basket, tagging alongside you as you store the fruit under a tent.

You take a deep breath once under the shade, it's a little cooler under the tent but the dizziness is still here, so you sit on the ground, not really hopeful but still wishing it'll go away.

Gaban curiously observes you. "If you feel that bad you should go to Crocus."

You fight against the urge to cringe at his words, and offer him a weak smile. "It's fine, really. I promise I'm fine, don't worry."

You're not fine.

Captain Roger called for a party when the sun came down, and everyone got busy with preparing a feast with what everyone found, drinks and everything. If any other occasion would have been a blast for you as well, tonight proves to be quite harder to handle than usual.

You don't drink much because your head has already been spinning for a while, and you have trouble focusing on something else than the urgently growing need inside of you. You tell yourself that you'll go to sleep early, probably masturbate for an hour or two, and everything will be alright, surely? Just the thought of touching yourself forces a tiny moan out from your lips. Bewildered, you quickly glance around you, glad everyone is having fun and being loud enough that nobody heard you. You exhale a strained sigh, swallow around the lump in your throat, then you move away from the rest of the group with the firm intent to lock yourself in your cabin and do whatever you can to deal with your demise, alone.

You're barely outside camp when you hear Gaban's voice behind you. "(y/n), you okay?"

"I'm perfectly fine", you snap back and keep walking.

"Hey, is something wrong?", he asks as he grabs your arm.

You inhale a sharp breath and stiffen at the contact, warm and tingling. You quickly pull your arm out of reach and turn to him, wide-eyed.

Gaban stops dead in his tracks and curiously observes you. "You've been acting weird since earlier. Please, open up, I mean no harm."

Glancing down to avoid his gaze, your eyes find the hand that held you back, already dreaming to feel the contact of bare skin against yours again... Your eyes are drawn to his defined arm, his strong shoulder, his neck, and your head spins again as you observe the moonlight playing on his tanned skin, so kissable, making you wonder how he tastes... You finally reach his face, and find him so fucking handsome even with the worried frown creasing his forehead. Why is he so hot?

Gaban slightly tilts his head. "(y/n)?"

You shake your head to clear it from dangerous thoughts, and clear your throat. "I'm fine, I promise, I just need some sleep", you lie, hoping to get away with it.

"I'll walk you back, then."

You open your mouth to protest but your words die in your throat, suddenly dry at the mental images your brain conjures out of nowhere.

Gaban removes his glasses and leans in a little to make eye contact. "I'm worried about you, I just want to make sure you're doing good, alright?"

You stare at his mouth as he speaks, and you wet your own lips as your gaze drifts to the side only to fall onto his arm again. Fuck, I want him to hold me so bad... You close your eyes and try to ignore more mental images spawning behind your eyelids, then you straighten up and briskly resume your walk. "Whatever", you weakly say, heat rising up to your face.

Gaban walks by your side. "Did something happen?"

You stubbornly watch the path in front of you. "No."

"I don't buy it. Usually you're not that cold."

You huff a startled laugh. Actually, it's quite the opposite. "I told you... I'm just tired, that's it", you snap, a little more harshly than you intended.

"You look... pretty angry, rather than tired."

You heavily sigh.

"Not angry, annoyed maybe? Still, that's unlike you."

You hold your tongue and try your best not to acknowledge Gaban's body warmth as he walks closer to you. You quicken your pace a little, trying to put more distance between you and him.

"Either way, not tired."

You roll your eyes and keep walking in silence. Finally, hopes flares in your chest as you reach the ship. You grab the closest rope ladder and turn to him. "That's it, I'm going to bed. Thanks for everything."

He offers you a worried frown and a soft smile. "You sure?"

Fuck, he's really cute. Your gaze flickers to the side as you squirm on your feet, pressing your thighs together in an attempt to contain the fire growing inside you. "Yeah, I swear", you plead and look back up at him.

"Oi." Gaban grabs your face between his hands, studying you under the moonlight.

You can't repress a needy whine under his warm touch. Close, so close, so warm. You close your eyes, mortified.

"Look at me."

The order makes you squirm a little more, and you open your eyes again, pursing your lips in shame.

"What's wrong with your eyes?"

You blink. "What?"

"Um, I really think Crocus should see you."

"No, no! Please don't tell him", you beg, grabbing his forearms and trying to push him away.

"Sorry, not sorry, you're coming back to camp with me."

"You can't make me", you weakly protest, then you turn back towards the ship.

You barely set a first foot on the rope ladder when Gaban wraps his hands around your waist, and throws you over his shoulder. "Like hell I can't", he huffs.

The feeling of his hands around your waist, his body warmth you feel through your clothes, and the fact that he has no trouble handling you like this makes the fire inside you flare up. It takes you a couple of minutes to calm down, and only once you managed to even your breathing you realize he's walking back to the camp. "Gaban... Put me down", you whine.

"Nuh-huh. I don't know what's going on but you're not in your normal state."

"Please, you don't understand... I mean–" You sigh in defeat. "I'll see Crocus, I promise I will, but please, I don't want to be in the middle of everyone right now." Too much people, too warm, too sensitive.

Gaban sets you back on the ground, and firmly grabs your shoulders. "Look, I don't know what's going on but I'll be damned if I leave you like this."

You stiffen at the contact but do your best to focus on what he says.

"I can bring him back. But will you wait?"

You urgently nod.

He points at a fallen tree. "Alright, you sit there. If you're not here when I come back–"

"I will, I swear", you cut him. At this point it's no use hiding anymore, so you might as well get a proper diagnosis and maybe even some medicine to counter the effects of the goddamn fire peaches. You sit on the trunk in defeat, and focus on your breathing while you wait.

Gaban comes back a few minutes later with the doctor in tow, and sits on the trunk next to you.

Crocus kneels in front of you, and frowns as he examines your eyes. Then he shakes his head, heavily sighing. "How many fire peaches did you eat?"

You cringe and look between your feet. "Four? Five?"

Crocus huffs. "Thought so."

Gaban asks, "Fire peaches?"

Crocus sighs again. "Long story short, a powerfully aphrodisiac fruit. (y/n) brought some earlier, I warned her, she said she didn't eat any and went to throw everything away... and now we're here."

"Oh."

"How long is it gonna last?", you weakly ask, still glaring at the ground.

"Well, with the size of your pupils right now, I'd say you're in for a long, long night." The doctor shrugs. "Maybe 'til sunrise."

"Please, please tell me you have medicine against this. I can't spend the whole night like that."

"I'm afraid I don't! And I heard it can be painful if not relieved too, so... You might need to find someone willing to help you with–" He vaguely gestures at you with a hand. "...that."

"No, no, this can't be happening", you desperately whine as you bury your head between your hands, squirming on your seat as tears threaten to spill from your eyes. You wish you could dig a hole deep enough to disappear into it.

Gaban clears his throat.

You give him a shy side-glance, noticing only now that he's been silent for a while.

He asks Crocus, "How painful?"

"Hmm, enough that any painkiller I have wouldn't change much. It supposedly gets worse as time passes, and with the amount she ate? I'm fairly sure it'll be awful. To be honest there's not much I can do at this point, but she'd rather be far from camp and in good company."

A darker shade dusting his cheeks, Gaban declares, "Okay. I'll do it."

You open wide eyes and your mouth falls a little agape.

He turns to you and softly explains, "That way, nobody else has to know. I understand now why you didn't want to join the rest of the crew earlier, and I don't want you to go through any more trouble."

You blink in disbelief.

"Great, then that's settled!" Crocus claps his knees and gets up. "Don't forget to drink lots of water, or you'll risk dehydration. Oh, and fire peaches are slightly psychoactive too, it tends to... loosen up people, lower their inhibitions and all that, so..." He waves as he returns to the party. "Have fun!"

Gaban stands up and offers his hand to help you up.

You exhale a shaky breath as you get up, the mere contact of his skin sending another powerful wave of arousal through your body. You have trouble breathing evenly as you walk back to the ship, eyes locked on the path under your feet. "I'm sorry", you murmur after a quiet while.

"What for?"

"For lying to you. To Crocus, too, and... now it's my fault you're stuck with me."

He thoughtfully hums. "I don't like that you lied, but I understand. It's not like you ate those fire peaches on purpose, right?" There's a pause, then he quietly says, "And I'm not "stuck", I offered my help because I wanted to."

You give him a side-glance. "You wanted to?", you echo in disbelief.

Cheeks a shade pinker than earlier, a shy smile lifting the corners of his mouth. "Yeah. I'd rather–" He clears his throat. "I mean, it's bad enough that those fire peaches are strong enough to put you into physical pain, so I want to make sure you're okay."

The fire inside you keeps growing, and Gaban's kind attentions don't appease it much. You side-eye him as you reach the ship, let him help you up the rope ladder. Once you're in front of his cabin you turn to him and quietly ask, "Gaban?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't want to force you to do anything..."

"I told you I wanted to help."

You hold onto your wavering lucidity and press further, "Yeah, but... Would you do this if not for the fire peaches?"

His frown softens, a smile curls his lips. "Yeah, I would."

You sigh of relief, and as your shoulders are relieved from some tension you slump a little on yourself.

Gaban slides an arm around your waist for support. "Hey..."

You lean into his strong embrace, eyes fluttering shut as you bask in his warmth, yet yearning for his bare skin against yours.

"I'm sorry about the circumstances but... I wouldn't have volunteered if I wasn't into you."

You look up, slightly dizzy again. "Really?"

He nods and offers you his sweetest smile.

Your gaze lingers on his lips, you absentmindedly lick yours, and what's left of your resolve snaps there and then. You lean up to kiss him, wrapping your hands around his neck for support.

Gaban kisses you back, soft and gentle, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close.

You sigh of delight and slide your tongue between his parted lips, moaning into his mouth as you taste him. Your fingers tighten around his shirt, pulling him closer as you tilt your head to deepen the kiss, and you buck your hips towards him, seeking more friction.

He leans back a little, breaking the kiss, and reaches out for the door to his cabin behind you. "Let's get inside", he invitingly says, softly smiling.

You blink and realize you're still out on the deck. Crap, I'm already far gone. You rub the back of your head in embarrassment "Sorry", you sheepishly murmur as you get through the door.

"Trouble holding back?", he asks as he locks the door behind you.

You turn your attention back to him. "Yeah..."

Gaban moves back into your personal space and grabs your waist. "That's flattering", he says before leaning in to kiss you. He's bolder now, claiming your mouth and swallowing your moans, while his hands roam your back and sides. His hands are warm, so warm, making your skin tingle under his touch and crave direct contact.

Why are you still wearing clothes, again? Lost in sensation, you don't even notice he's walking you around until you bump backwards into the bed. You hurriedly climb onto the mattress and hungrily gaze as Gaban comes to lay next to you. Mind foggy, craving more, you straddle his hips and rock your hips as your hands explore the broad expanse of his chest.

He swallows under your eager touches.

You bite your lower lip and untie his sash, then remove his shirt. You lift a very interested eyebrow and stare a little longer than necessary once the irrelevant garments are out of the way. Your hands lay on his narrow hips, thumb tracing the sharp dip of the bone, then they travel up. Your fingertips tingle as his sun-kissed skin radiates warmth beneath yours, taut muscle flexing then relaxing under your touch as you move up, idly playing with his chest hair as you reach his pectorals. An irrepressible urge to taste him blooms inside you and you lean in to do just that.

Gaban exhales a deep hum and places his hands on your hips when you kiss his neck, and his fingertips slightly dig into your flesh as you start licking and nibbling your way down his shoulder.

A few encouraging moans only fuel your arousal further, and you gently bite his shoulder, before moving further down, nibbling his skin and tongue flicking over his nipples while your hands keep groping him. You want his skin, want his voice, want to eat him raw, ready to do anything to quench the insatiable hunger setting your nerves on fire. You're licking his happy trail with an appreciative groan when he places a hand on your nape, prompting you to look up.

He removes his glasses and meets your gaze, his cheeks flushed a dark shade of pink. "You okay?"

You lazily smile and nod the affirmative, licking another long stripe up his abs to prove your point.

His fingers tighten around your nape as he exhales a strained moan, then he cups your chin and tilts your head up a little, looking down with intent. "Why don't I take care of you, too, huh?"

You blink and buck your hips, finding your underwear soaked already. You lick your lips. "Yes, yes please..." You lay by his side and help him undress you, the lukewarm air in the cabin coming in stark contrast to you own temperature, raising goosebumps on your heated skin. You open your mouth to complain about it but your voice breaks the moment he sets his hands on you.

Sitting next to you, he showers you in gentle touches, fingertips leaving sparks of pleasure across your body as he softly gropes and caresses, slowly exploring.

You urge him for more and start moaning as his hands press harder into your skin, appreciating the soft give of your flesh. "Please, more..."

Gaban slides a hand under your back and gently lifts you up a little, smirks at your curious gaze then leans in to lick the closest nipple.

"Oh, fuck yes." Your hands tangle in his thick curly hair and you pull him closer. You hiss as he catches your drift and leans in to suck your tit, then you press him harder against you, craving the feeling of his mouth around your skin.

He switches sides as he lays you back down on the mattress, then moves further down, peppering your tummy with needy wet kisses as his hands keep playing with your chest.

You rub your thighs together, desperate to quell the ache growing between them, and squirm under Gaban while he kisses his way across your hip.

He pushes your thighs open and kneels between them, thumbs tracing soothing circles against your skin. "You good?", he asks with a slightly worried frown.

You wet your lips. "Yeah... Want you, need you."

Gaban softly smiles. "Can do", he says, and he dives in without further ado.

You exhale a low throaty groan as he latches his mouth on you and eagerly eats you out, tongue exploring your folds and gently teasing the swollen length hidden beneath, and you tilt your hips for better access.

Gaban wraps his arms around your thighs while his tongue slides inside you, tasting you in the most intimate way possible.

You let out another few sinful moans when you feel the wet muscle caressing your inner walls, and a weak whine as the tip of his nose rubs the underside of your clit. You try to wriggle for more contact but his strong grip holds you firmly in place. You throw him a pleading glance as your hands grip at the bedsheets.

He looks up, and you feel the smile between your thighs as he slides his tongue deeper.

You throw your head back on the pillow and let him do as he pleases – not that you would do much against it anyway, and your mind is too hazy to do more than just relish in such a treat. You're positively light-headed within a few minutes, heavily panting with an orgasm steadily building up and not caring anymore about how loud you voice your enjoyment of your current situation. You barely register when one of his hands leaves your thigh, and in a haze, you don't pick up why you feel like you can move a little more, so you look down.

You lock eyes with Gaban at the moment he slides two thick fingers inside you and curls them just right. He hums around your clit as you close your eyes and mewl, then he starts sucking your swollen length, rubbing his fingertips against your sweet spot until you squirt around them.

Your climax takes you by surprise, fast and short-lived, long as a yelp but very intense, strong enough to leave you breathless and trembling on the bed.

As you regain your breath Gaban pulls his fingers out and smiles against your inner thigh, peppering it with soft kisses. "You're still good?"

Your inner walls flutter around nothing, still throbbing from the recent orgasm yet aching for more. You exhale a weak chuckle. "Oh, yeah. I want more, though."

Gaban hums and dives back in to repeat the whole process, adding a third finger and spreading them out to rub your inner walls.

Your hands move from the bedsheets to his head, tangling in his dark hair, and you gently tug the curly strands to keep him where it feels better. "Fuck– oh, right there..."

Your clit throbs under Gaban's tongue as he hums around you, and he keeps pressing into the swollen spot inside you, spreading his fingertips and rubbing them around, never leaving it untouched.

You pull on his hair when he sucks harder, and the low rumble of his voice as he groans against your cunt in return sends you over the edge again.

Gaban flattens his tongue over your swollen length and presses it hard, lowly humming against you as you ride your high. He stays there a little while more as you fall limp again, and his jaw is a little slack as he leans back up, eyes full of desire as he observes you.

You barely found your breath again when you meet his lust-filled gaze, and the fire inside you grows anew. You exhale a breathless chuckle and announce, "My turn."

Gaban frowns. "Huh?"

You sit up and push him down to the mattress, licking your lips.

"You–"

"I want to taste you, too", you huskily say as your hands finds his still clothed erection, throbbing under your touch.

His Adam's apple moves up and down as he swallows.

You lean in to lick a stripe down the column of his throat, and you smile against his skin when he exhales a throaty groan. Your mouth next explores downwards, kissing, nibbling and licking your way down, tongue lapping a few beads of sweat as you inhale Gaban's scent, hands idly palming at the broad expanse of his torso.

"Oh, fuck– Mmh, that feels good..."

Arousal spiking under his praise, you scoot next to him as you slide his underwear down, then kneel between his parted thighs.

Gaban looks at you, face flush a shade darker. "You sure?"

"Oh, yeah", you nod.

"You don't have to if you– ngh!"

You wrap your hand around his already leaking cock and give an experimental stroke. "I want this. Wanted this for a while, actually. Those damn fire peaches only made me want you more", you huskily say before leaning in to lick a long stripe up the throbbing shaft, eyeing his reaction.

Gaban struggles to keep eye contact while you wet the pulsating vein underneath and tease his frenulum, and exhales a strained moan. "Just wanted to make sure– Oh, fuck–"

You engulf him and swirl your tongue around the flared tip, humming in delight around the pulse beating against your tongue. You lap a few beads of precum at his tip then start bobbing your head up and down, trying to fit more of his cock with each movement.

"Holy shit– Nghh, this is so good..."

You hollow your cheeks on the upstroke, letting spit and precum well in your mouth and dribble down your chin. You look up then, and can't suppress a husky moan at the sight.

Gaban's propped on his elbows, gripping at the bedsheets and frowning in an obvious attempt to restrain himself, lust-filled eyes trained on you, his sun-kissed skin shining with a sheen layer of sweat and his upper body tense under your doings.

You suck harder and gaze up for a few more moments, committing the heavenly sight to memory for later use. Then you lean up, releasing him with one last run of your tongue across his rock hard cock. Then you roughly lick your lips and raise your hand to his, digging fingertips into his closed fist. "You don't have to hold yourself, you know."

Gaban's eyelid twitches. "I don't want to hurt you", he sheepishly says.

"You can still be rough, though."

Gaban cracks a sly smile. "I'm lucky you're so feisty..."

"Hungry", you correct and dive back in mouth first, sliding your lips around his girth until you feel his tip throbbing at the back of your throat.

Gaban loudly groans and instantly cards a hand into your hair, tangling strong fingers into your hair and just barely holding you in place before he pulls your head up a little. "You–"

"Mh-hmm?", you hum around his cock, tongue swirling around his tip.

"You're so– ngh! So, so fucking good..."

You lean back in and resume blowing him off, taking in as much as you can.

Gaban's hand remains into your hair, gently pressing fingertips into your scalp as he hisses and moans under your doings, guiding you but never forcing you down on him.

You deepthroat him anyway, not caring in the least that you're drooling spit and precum all over him – you're hoping to give a good show too, you want him to want you as much as you do, you want to drive him crazy and have him wreck you. His moans, his touch, the way he throbs against your tongue are enough to make the fire within you burn again, but it's the suddenly stronger taste of precum that makes it flare brighter. Your insides clench around nothing, and you exhale a needy whimper.

Gaban's cock throbs in return, and he tugs on your hair, pulling you all the way up, out of breath as he gazes at you with darkened eyes.

You lick your lips and instantly move up to straddle him, rubbing your dripping cunt against his pulsating cock. "I want you so bad it hurts", you whine.

He exhales a low moan, then he guides his length between your folds while you lift your hips up.

You adjust the angle of your hips and spread your juices around his tip as you tease your dripping entrance, then you sink down in one go and push your hips back, throwing your head backwards and exhaling a low satisfied groan once you're fully seated. Your inner walls flutter around him when you look back down.

Gaban's face is flushed red, obviously aroused albeit a little bewildered by your eagerness, heavily panting as he places his hands over your hips, gently squeezing.

You smirk and rock your hips, moaning as you adjust your position and start moving faster. "Oh, fuck yeah", you breathe out as you ride him, eyelids falling down as you focus on the sensations inside you. You're so full, your inner walls stretching out to accommodate him, the constant throbbing and rubbing against all the good places inside you...

Gaban's grip tightens on your hips. "I'm close, (y/n), I–"

You open your eyes and roll your hips harder as you hold his gaze. "I want to feel you cum inside me", you say without missing a beat.

"Oh, fuck–" Gaban's eyes roll back a little before he makes eye contact again. His fingertips dig into your hips a little more as he guides you, grinding his hips harder into you. He huskily growls, "You really want this?"

"Uh-huh", you nod the affirmative, biting on your lower lip.

"Mmh– You're gonna make me cum so hard..."

You smirk and keep moving faster. "Yeah?"

"Fuck, fuck–" Gaban's hips buck into yours and he pulls you down hard, burying his cock deep inside you as it starts throbbing wildly, spurting warm loads of cum inside you. His whole glistening body tenses and a single, long, broken sound leaves his lips as he rides his high.

You feast on the view as you keep riding him, relishing in the intense pulsations inside your core and the slick warmth spreading there and dripping down between your thighs.

He looks at you from behind half-lidded eyes as he slowly comes down from cloud nine, still half-hard inside of you while he resumes giving hip rolls of his own.

You angle your hips better, rubbing your swollen clit against his happy trail, reaching for another climax. "Oh, fuck... Ngh..."

"You're so fucking hot", Gaban breathlessly says, sliding a hand up to squeeze your waist then grope a breast, fingertips teasing your nipple.

You arch your back then, seeking more contact. "Oh, please, more..."

Gaban instantly complies, cupping both of your tits and thumbing at your nipples hardening under his touch.

"I– unf! I wanna cum so bad", you whimper, rubbing your swollen clit harder against him.

Gaban rolls your nipples between his fingertips, sending a jolt of arousal through your body, then leans in to suck on the closest tit.

You breathe more heavily and press your hips down harder, feeling more warmth pool in your gut, close, so close to an orgasm. "Oh, please, pleaseplease–"

Gaban sucks hard on your nipple, then gently bites it as his hand pulls on the other one.

The coil snaps and you throw your head back to let out a series of loud moans, your whole body curling and trembling as waves and waves of liquid ecstasy spreads throughout your whole body, your skin tingling in their wake.

Gaban keeps sucking and pulling on your tits as your inner walls squeeze him tight, humming in delight into your skin as he bucks his hips into yours to feel you cum better.

When finally you settle down a little you look back down at him, out of breath and positively sated. You offer him a lazy smile. "Oh, that was– haa– so good..."

"Oh yeah", he says as he leans back and grabs your waist again, rocking his hips into yours.

You moan as you feel his dick standing to full attention again inside you, deliciously stretching you. Your insides flutter around him. Not sated yet. "More?", you coyly ask.

"My pleasure." Gaban flips you both over and places his hands on either side of your head, slowly rocking his hips into yours as he hovers above you.

You bite your lower lip, feasting on the view, and you adjust your position under him, tilting your hips a little higher for a deeper penetration.

Gaban grins and starts thrusting, long and slow, making sure to rub his flared tip against your sweet spot with every thrust.

You cling onto his waist, fingertips digging into his back. "Harder", you moan.

He growls and picks up his pace a little, filling you with each thrust yet still not quite satisfying enough.

You impatiently whine. "Come on, I'm not gonna break", you say as you rake your fingernails into his skin.

He raises an eyebrow, and he slams his hips into yours, earning a low growl.

"Oh, fuck yeah. More..."

Gaban leans back to kneel in front of you, pulling your hips up so you rest your lower back on his muscular thighs. He raises your ankles to his shoulders and wraps his arms around your legs, holding you tight, then leans in a little before he resumes fucking you, hard and fast. The new angle has you feeling fuller, his dick impossibly deep and rubbing everywhere it should.

You feel something growing inside you, an urge for release that you don't quite recognize until you squirt around Gaban's thick cock, splashing his abs and thighs and soaking the mattress beneath you while he keeps pounding into you, reducing you to a moaning mess.

He angles his hips back a little and keeps going, making you squirt another couple of times before he cums another time inside you, his dick pulsating against your sweet spot as his release mixes with yours inside you and over the bedsheets.

And though you very much enjoy your current situation, nothing seems to satisfy you enough. The ache inside you only seems to grow bigger each time you climax, and you're convinced you're going to lose your mind if you can't at least appease it a little.

When Gaban regains his breath he leans back and pulls out, cautiously laying you down onto a dry part of the bed. He gently squeezes your thigh as he sits next to you. "How do you feel?"

You weakly shrug. "Want more", you whine.

He offers you an apologetic smile. "Me too, but I do have a refractory time."

You haul yourself up, rubbing your thighs together as your insides flutter around nothing. "And I have no patience", you huskily say as you wrap a hand around his softening cock. You give Gaban a quick glance before licking him clean, then you engulf him whole.

"Hnghh– (y/n)..."

You hum around his half-hard cock, sucking it hard and humming as it gets harder over your tongue, progressively filling your mouth until you struggle to swallow around him. The taste of both of your releases only further fuels your ever-growing arousal and you're aching to have him inside you again as you finally release him, rock hard again and ready to go. A proud smile curves your lips, and you look back up.

Gaban exhales a low, deep chuckle and wipes a few beads of sweat off his forehead. "Alright then. What do you want?"

You turn around and place yourself on your fours, face against the mattress as you wriggle your ass up. "You. Inside me."

"Can do", he huskily says, raising a hand to run his fingertips up your inner thigh, spreading the slick across your skin and teasing your throbbing cunt. Then he kneels behind you, playfully slaps your ass cheeks then massages them while he rubs his cock between your folds.

You arch your back, and moan when his flared tip rubs your swollen clit and they throb against each other. You fist your hands into the bedsheets and tilt your hips forward to guide him towards your aching core. "Fuck me already..."

Another slap on an ass cheek, loud and clear, tingling with warmth blooming everywhere inside you. It's all the warning you get before Gaban slides inside you and fucks you rough, fingertips digging into your hips hard enough to bruise.

"Oh– Oh, fuck, yes! Yes!!" Your eyes roll back in delight and your mouth stays agape, sinful sounds spilling from your lips as you're lost in a haze, abandoned to the moment, Gaban's whole strength and his throbbing cock ramming into you, spearing you open. So good, so good... yet still not enough. You grow frustrated after a while, and prop yourself up on your arms, trying to get a better angle.

Gaban slows down a little. "Something wrong?"

"Want more", you moan between pants.

Gaban growls, hauls you up and brings you against the wooden wall, waits for you to comfortably brace your arms there, then grabs your hips again and resumes pounding into you.

With this angle he perfectly rubs against your sweet spot with each thrust, and more warmth blooms into you as he wraps his body around yours, holding you close as he roughly rails you from behind.

You throw a hand back and card it into his thick hair, then you exhale a low throaty moan when he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, praising the gods you don't believe in for another powerful orgasm.

It doesn't come, and instead you're both startled by knocks on the cabin door.

You whine when Gaban stops thrusting and he unlatches his mouth from your skin.

"You okay there?"

You turn a hazy gaze to Gaban, distantly identifying Rayleigh's voice.

"I was wondering where you went, so I asked Crocus since he saw you last."

Not caring in the least that Rayleigh is on the other side of the wall, you lean a little against the wood, then roll your hips a little, anything to get some friction to ease the ache inside your core.

Gaban's grip tightens on your hips and his dick throbs inside you.

Rayleigh continues, "Don't worry about the others, he only told Roger and me. I just came here to bring you fresh water, Crocus said you might need it."

You try to get Gaban to move again, to no avail, then you exhale a needy whimper.

"Thanks, Rayleigh", Gaban says, "You can leave it by the door, I'll come grab it later."

"Oh no, you're not leaving", you lowly growl, clenching your inner walls around his pulsating cock.

He frowns and protests, "I'm just getting water!"

You lean against the wall and brace your shoulders against it, then you glare at him as you throw your hands back to grab his ass, pinning him against you. "I said no."

He lifts his eyebrows. "Okay. Now what?"

"I don't care! Just fuck me."

Gaban leans over your back and heavily sighs. "Rayleigh?"

"Yeah?"

"Come in and leave the water here, please", Gaban says before he resumes pounding into you.

Rayleigh opens the door, slides in then closes behind him. Then he drops a keg near the bed, and his gaze flickers to you.

Gaban growls, "You saw nothing."

"Nobody will know, but I saw. Nice view", he teases, a smile curving his lips.

Your brain vaguely registers that usually you'd be embarrassed, but right now being watched only arouses you more. "Really?", you breathe out between moans as you struggle to maintain eye contact.

"Mh-hmm", he nods, gaze lingering on your face before turning to Gaban. "You gonna be okay?"

"Fuck–" Gaban's hips still against yours as he cums inside you yet again. He pulls out and moves back to lay on the bed, heavily breathing. "Well that's a nice workout, but…... yeah."

You whimper at the loss, then you turn around to straddle him without a single fuck to spare for your audience until Rayleigh speaks again.

"Do you need any help?"

You snap your head towards him, then curiously back to Gaban, heart suddenly beating faster.

"I could use a pause", he breathes out, then finds your inquiring gaze. He licks his lips and exhales a small chuckle. "Won't be a first that we share a bed, or someone", he confesses. "Your pick."

Your eyes widen. "Oh." You bite your lower lip and turn to Rayleigh who's still standing in the doorway. Without missing a beat, you ask, "You don't mind sloppy seconds, do you?"

Rayleigh's grin widens as he walks towards you. "Depends... Right now, I don't."

"Lucky me", you huskily say as you hop off the bed and walk to him, wandering hands sliding his coat off his shoulders.

Rayleigh glances at Gaban. "Those fire peaches are really strong, I heard?"

Gaban huffs a tired chuckle. "Oh yeah! And she ate four or five of them..."

"I didn't know then, and I don't care now, please– help me", you say as you struggle to untie the First Mate's sash.

Rayleigh smirks. "Well, we don't want to leave you in need now, do we?" He slides his sash off and helps you remove his boots and pants, and comments as your hands explore his body, groping here and there, "I won't lie, it's flattering to see you so eager... Makes me wish I tried something earlier."

"I'll make up for lost time, then." You maintain his gaze as you slide his underwear down and sink to your knees. You break eye contact to glance at his cock, half-hard already, long and curved, veiny. You wrap your fingers around him and start stroking, licking your lips in anticipation.

You hear the smile in his voice as he next says, "Lost time, huh? Must have been long overdue, when I see Gaban worn out like this."

You exhale a soft hum, and open your mouth to engulf his tip.

"If you let her, (y/n) will suck you dry", Gaban says.

"I wouldn't mind", Rayleigh says as he cards a hand into your hair, guiding you as you lean in and take more of his length.

Gaban chuckles. "Maybe, but she will."

You hum in approval and start bobbing your head, making it wet and messy as you feel Rayleigh's cock throbbing against your tongue.

"Unf– You're good", Rayleigh huskily says between pants and moans, "Oh yeah, just like that..."

You moan around his length, heart melting at the praise and cunt dripping from arousal at the weight and taste on your tongue, already desperate to be fucked silly again.

Rayleigh places his other hand on your cheek, gently holding you close as you take him whole, nose brushing against his happy trail. He groans and his flared tip throbs at the back of your throat, and he pulls you back a few short moments after. He heavily pants, a dark shade of pink dusting his cheeks.

Not that you fare any better, drooling spit and precum, pupils dilated as you look up and meet his intense gaze. You dart your tongue out to lick his thumb and your insides clench around nothing when he slides it between your lips.

Gaban exhales a low chuckle. "Still feisty", he comments.

"(y/n)... I'd like to fuck that pretty mouth, is that okay?"

You heartily nod, lean back to open your mouth wide, then obediently draw your tongue out.

Rayleigh exhales a low hum and cradles your head between his warm hands, then he bucks his hips into your offered mouth, groaning when you move your tongue along his length. "Tap on my thigh or my leg if I'm too rough, alright?"

You hum, and focus on breathing through your nose while he starts thrusting in and out of your lips. Your insides flutter with each of his moans, and let out some sinful sounds of your own in return. When he starts moving faster, pressing against the back of your throat with every other thrust, you gag around his cock and place your hands on his thighs, but you withhold the treatment, finding some relief in being used and yearning for more.

Rayleigh pulls back just when the taste of precum gets stronger in your mouth, heavily panting and looking at you with a mix of awe and mischief. "Fuck– You're so good."

You lick your lips, chasing his taste. "Am I, now?" You get up and move back to the bed, laying on the mattress next to Gaban and invitingly opening your thighs, offering your glistening cunt to the view while you hungrily lick your lips. "Let me see if you are, too."

Rayleigh exchanges a mischievous glance with Gaban and climbs onto the bed, placing himself above you and lining himself up. He leans in for a deep, hungry kiss as he slides into your aching core, swallowing your whimpers while he sheathes himself, then he leans back up to look at your heated face, wearing a smug grin.

A split second passes before you lock your feet behind his back, expectantly looking up at him. "Fuck me", you demand.

"My pleasure", he says, and happily complies, imposing a fast rhythm as he deeply pounds into you.

Sparks of pleasure send shivers across your skin, heated and sensitive from such a good rough fuck. Your fingernails dig into pale skin and you tighten your thighs around Rayleigh's waist, angling your hips for an even deeper penetration. It's so good, yet still not enough.

Rayleigh leans back and lifts your ankles to his shoulders for a better angle, threads a hand through his sweat-damp hair as he adjusts his position.

You whine at the sight, and lick your suddenly dry lips.

Gaban pats Rayleigh's hip. "Let her drink a bit."

You're a little startled when you're reminded of Gaban's presence, you were so lost in the sensations that you forgot about him for a bit.

"Yeah. I'll have some too."

You prop yourself on your elbows when Gaban brings you a fresh cup, and you down the water in one go while he fetches another cup for Rayleigh.

Once the blond has resumed fucking you, Gaban lays next to you, fingertips tracing your jawline.

You turn to him moaning and panting under Rayleigh's ministrations.

He softly smiles, and playfully slides the tip of his thumb between your parted lips.

You absentmindedly lick it, then crane your head to properly suck it.

He growls and slides his thumb out, only to push two fingers inside your mouth, looking intensely at the way you open your mouth wide to accommodate them.

You diligently coat Gaban's fingers with spit, making a show to run your tongue all around.

"So greedy..."

You moan around his knuckles with every other thrust, gaze going from Gaban to Rayleigh, drowning in their desire but not nearly quenched yet.

Fortunately for you, Gaban seems to think along the same lines. He asks you, "Want to blow me off?"

You heartily nod around his fingers, humming appreciatively.

He smirks and turns to Rayleigh. "Mind changing positions?"

"Not at all", Rayleigh says before pulling out.

Your inner walls flutter around nothing, desperate to be filled again, and you're about to voice a complaint–

Rayleigh grabs your hips and flips you around in one swift move, then he pulls your ass up.

Catching his drift, you place yourself on your fours and tilt your hips for better access.

Gaban kneels in front of you, presenting a renewed and throbbing erection.

You lick your lips and get to work, engulfing as much as you can in a single go.

Rayleigh slides inside you right then, pushing you a little more around Gaban's cock as he bottoms out.

Your insides squeeze around Rayleigh's cock and you moan in return. When Rayleigh pulls back a little you start bobbing your head along Gaban's cock, relishing in the strong throbbing against your tongue when you moan around it as well as the stronger taste of precum spreading into your mouth.

Rayleigh places his hands on your ass, spreading it out as he resumes fucking you, a little slower than before.

Assuming he's enjoying the view, you arch your back a little more to give a better show.

Rayleigh exhales a low appreciative groan and fucks you harder, spreading your ass wide and throbbing hard inside your cunt.

You slightly gag with every other thrust that pushes you harder on Gaban's cock, but you withhold the treatment, doing your best to focus on breathing through your nose.

Rayleigh's thrusts become slightly erratic after a few minutes, and he buries himself balls deep after a few off-beat thrusts, keeping an iron grip on your hips as he cums inside you.

You groan in delight when you're filled with his release, and you sigh when he finally pulls out.

Gaban leans back and rubs the tip of his cock against your drawn out tongue. "Wanna fuck you again", he growls.

You look up and smirk. "Then I want both of you."

"Needy girl... You're lucky Rayleigh has little to no refractory time."

You throw an interested glance behind you. "Yeah?"

Rayleigh shrugs, and a mischievous smile curves his lips. "How fast can you get me up again?"

You lowly hum. "Let's see..." You stay on your fours but turn around to face him, offering your backside to Gaban. You grab his half-hard cock, slide your lips around it and start sucking, tasting your own earlier release and theirs under Rayleigh's approving gaze.

Gaban lines himself with your cunt once you've fallen into a comfortable rhythm, easily sliding into you with the remainder of his and Rayleigh's cum, and he snaps his hips hard into yours, loud slaps of flesh against flesh echoing through your body as he forces you further onto Rayleigh's cock.

You appreciate the way it swells and gets harder against your tongue in response to every other moan vibrating around it, and you earnestly suck harder in return. You distantly register when the thrusts inside you slow down a bit as well as a couple of foreign sounds occur behind you, but you don't care much until two fingertips are pressed into your ass cleft.

Gaban's fingers aren't pushing much, just sliding down to your puckered hole and spreading their coat of lube around it. "You said you want both of us. Is this good?"

Your eyes flutter shut and you lean back a little to release Rayleigh's cock. "Oh, yeah. Very", you pant, throwing a glance behind your back.

Gaban flashes you a smile and resumes pounding into your cunt with his former pace, all while massaging your tight hole. He slides a first, then a second finger inside, and leisurely starts scissoring you.

Rayleigh cups your cheek, prompting you to look back up at him. "You look so good like this", he praises you, "So pretty when you're enjoying yourself..."

Your inner walls flutter at the praise. An extra finger sliding into your ass forces a raw, throaty moan out of you, and you mindlessly resume your blow job, keeping it wet and messy.

Rayleigh places his hands on your head, gently guiding your moves along his length while exhaling soft moans.

Gaban soon pushes a third finger deep inside you, and wriggles them around a bit, feeling the tight fit of your ass around them.

You groan around Rayleigh's shaft, and arch your back for better access, an urge to be stretched further rising fast inside you.

Gaban reads you like an open book and pushes his fingers deeper, then spreads them as wide as he can.

You throw your head back with a wail, releasing Rayleigh's cock in the movement. Breathing shallowly, still drooling spit and precum, you glance behind you and beg, "Please, I want you both so bad."

Gaban stops moving and lifts a cocky eyebrow.

You look back up at Rayleigh. "Please."

He smiles, a little short of breath, then moves to lay down on the mattress. He palms at his slick cock and invitingly says, "Come here."

Gaban pulls his fingers out, earning a whimper. He barely has the time to buck his hips back that you're already moving.

You don't waste a single second and crawl over Rayleigh to straddle him. You impale yourself on his shaft, exhaling a low groan once he's fully sheathed in. You lick your lips, brace your hands on either side of Rayleigh's face, and start riding like it's world's end.

"Ooh, yeah– fuck, that's good..." Rayleigh's hands latch on your hips, guiding you and pressing you harder against him, sliding you along his length and making sure you take him to the hilt with every hip roll.

You stop moving when you feel Gaban kneeling behind you. Eager to be fucked senseless, you lean over Rayleigh's body and rest your head into the crook of his shoulder, panting in anticipation as you offer your ass to Gaban.

Rayleigh's hands slide from your hips to your ass cheeks and spread them wide for better access.

You pant more heavily and heat rises up to your face. You lean into the crook of Rayleigh's neck and gently bite in return, licking and nibbling his warm skin.

Gaban lines his cock, slick with bodily fluids and an extra dose of lube. The first ring of muscle twitches around his tip when he pushes in, but the downright sinful moan you next exhale encourages him further, so he keeps going, slowly but deliciously filling your tight ass. Once he bottoms out he leans over your back and peppers your shoulders and back with wet kisses. "You're doing so good. You feel so good", he murmurs against your skin.

Mind foggy, body just barely adjusted to the spearing intrusion, breath still heavy, you lick your dry lips and give an experimental hip roll. "Oh, holy shit..." Your insides clench around both men and your whole body tenses between them, electrified by the intense sensations. You lazily smile when Gaban and Rayleigh hiss in return, then their cocks throb inside you and your whole body goes a little limp. You catch your breath before exhaling a husky moan, eyes rolling back behind your eyelids.

Rayleigh's hands travel up to your hips, and one trails up your side, then your neck, follows your jawline and gently cups your cheek.

You open your eyes.

Rayleigh hungrily looks up at you and growls, "So pretty when you take us both..."

Breath short, feeling fuller than ever yet not near enough, you brace tight fists on the mattress above Rayleigh's shoulders, then you push your back against Gaban's chest, and roll your hips again with more intent. "Ooh, fuck... Unf, this is so good..." You look back down at Rayleigh and offer him a lazy smile. "I wanna cum with both of you inside me." You grin wider when both of their cocks instantly get harder, and move again, quickly setting a comfortable rhythm.

Rayleigh's hands cup your chest and playfully rub fingertips across your nipples, teasing until he earns a couple of extra moans. Then he pinches them and gently holds them so that he pulls on your tits with each of your hip rolls.

"Holy fuck, yes–"

Gaban leans a little over you, wrapping his broader frame around your smaller form, and re-positions a hand on the mattress so the other can wander freely, exploring your legs, thighs, sides.

You're burning from the inside, every touch so good and so frustrating at the same time, your whole body demands more. You tilt your hips and ride harder, bite your lower lip when you find a better angle, then you ride faster.

Gaban's hand kneads into your hip, then travels to your inner thigh, fingertips brushing against Rayleigh's midsection. Your hips stutter under his touch but he keeps going, and three fingertips soon cover your swollen clit and start stroking through its hood.

You lean down a little under the intense stimulation, and you let your mouth fall agape as more sinful sounds spill from your lips.

Rayleigh leans up to suck on a hardened nipple, earning higher-pitched moans. He smiles around your tit and leans back only to apply the same treatment to the other side.

"Oh, fuck– I can't–" You heavily pant and your hips stutter again between them as you're unable to maintain any kind of pace. You stop riding altogether and whine, "Please, please, fuck me..."

Rayleigh releases your nipple with a wet sound, then leans back wearing a cocky smirk. "If you insist."

Gaban's hand leaves your cunt and moves to the mattress again. He kisses the back of your neck and huskily says, "I'm always happy to please."

Rayleigh spreads out your ass and holds you tight as he starts thrusting into your sloppy cunt.

"Oh shit, shit–" You writhe between them, searching for more contact.

Gaban gives some hip rolls of his own and leans in to bite your neck.

"Ngh– more, please..."

Gaban pushes his chest down on your back and slides three fingers inside your mouth.

Slaps of flesh against flesh, ragged breaths, loud moans and husky groans... Heat everywhere inside and around you... Sweat and spit mixing in your mouth with the taste of everyone's juices... The scent of your bodies mingled together... And the view, oh, the view...

Rayleigh's absolutely gorgeous, disheveled and glimmering from the sweat running down his body, brow furrowed and muscles tense as he buries himself deep inside you, mouth spilling moans and curses and quiet words of praise.

Gaban bites you again, a little harder.

A jolt of electricity goes down your spine, and you cum right there and then with a loud wail. Your whole body shudders at the intensity of this new climax, and finally slumps down after a while. You're positively out of breath and exhausted, not to mention dehydrated beyond belief. You lick your dry lips.

Rayleigh gently pats Gaban's thigh. "Let her drink", he softly says.

Gaban pulls out, earning a soft whine, then he lays down on the bed next to Rayleigh, breathing heavily.

You slide off Rayleigh and fill a couple of cups for them, then you down another one. Once you're feeling a little fresher, you take a couple of breaths to assess your current state. Still not fucking close to satisfied. You don't waste time and quickly return to Gaban and Rayleigh, rubbing your body against theirs as you barely stand a few moments without bare skin against yours.

"Time out", Gaban quietly says, a soft smile curling his lips while he gently taps your thigh.

You slightly groan in mild annoyance, and turn your attention to Rayleigh.

He lays you down and gets off the bed, then he pulls you towards the edge of the mattress. He kneels there and throws you a seductive glance before diving in tongue first.

You arch your back when his tongue laps your juices, and your eyes flutter shut when the wet muscle explores inside your slightly gaping cunt. One of your hands tangles in blond hair and lightly tugs, earning a soft groan. You exhale an interested hum, and tug harder.

Rayleigh groans louder and slides his tongue up, moving to suck your swollen, sensitive clit.

An incoherent string of half-words fall from your lips, and you bury your free hand into his hair too, keeping him where it feels better. You rock your hips a little and when Rayleigh stops moving and simply draws his tongue out, you insistently rub yourself against the wet muscle, chasing for another high.

Rayleigh exhales soft grunts and moans of approval, vibrating against your throbbing clit, and he all too happily let him use his tongue.

It doesn't take long before your thighs quiver around his head as you cum yet again. You release his head and lazily watch as he wipes your juices from his face and sucks his fingers clean.

He stands then, stretches his back a little, and lines himself up with your dripping cunt. He doesn't give you time to recover from the afterglow and slides his dick deep inside your pulsating core, and fucks you hard.

Over-sensitized and exhausted, you're still craving for more and you're glad he wants more too.

Gaban scoots closer to you and lets his hands wander on your chest, your neck, your jawline. "You're so fucking pretty", he praises you while his fingertips tease you.

You hear Captain Roger's roaring laugh echoing on the decks, but it doesn't register as bothersome since you suppose there's only the four of you on the ship.

Neither Rayleigh nor Gaban stop their ministrations, anyway.

A moment after, Captain's voice says from behind the door, "I was wondering where Rayleigh had been all this time. Figures."

Gaban rolls his eyes.

Rayleigh groans as he slows down his thrusts.

"Everyone's off to sleep and you're still at it?"

Rayleigh turns towards the door and deadpans, "Well someone doesn't want to stop, so..."

You groan in mild annoyance and wriggle your hips to try to get him to move.

He turns his attention back to you, sighing. "Do you want Roger to join, too?"

Your pupils widen at the offer and you lick your lips.

Gaban bites your shoulder. "Insatiable, really", he growls against your skin.

With a rare sliver of lucidity you ask, "Is this... okay?"

Gaban and Rayleigh huff a laugh and exchange a knowing look, a smirk growing on their faces.

You frown. "What?"

Rayleigh calls, "Roger!"

Your Captain enters the cabin without further ado, grinning wide at the sight of you three entangled. "Oh, you've been having fun."

Rayleigh retorts, "Yeah, and (y/n) keeps wanting more."

Captain Roger turns his attention to you.

Arousal flares again inside your gut under his intense gaze.

He plucks his mustache and lowly asks, "Is it true? Do you need more... help?"

You swallow as you briefly look at the other two. "Yeah. I mean– I'm not sure anything more would truly help at this point, but–"

Rayleigh laughs. "Oh, he will wear you out, trust me."

Gaban runs a thumb across your lower lip. "If anyone can do more than us two, it's Roger. I'd say it's a pretty safe bet."

"Alright, okay." You playfully lick his thumb before turning your attention back to your Captain, a smile curling your lips. Worries and shame long forgotten, you offer, "You want the next round?"

"Oh yeah." Roger heartily nods, then he drops his coat near the keg and leisurely leans on the wall across the room. "Come on, boys, you heard her", he urges the other two with an eager grin.

Rayleigh briefly glares at him, but soon resumes fucking you, deep and sharp, making you see stars with every other thrust.

Gaban muffles your moans with two or three fingers playing with your tongue, while his gaze intensely studies your face.

You tilt your hips for a deeper penetration and moan a little louder around Gaban's fingers, then your eyes flutter shut in delight and you squeeze your inner walls around Rayleigh.

He hisses in return, and his cock heavily throbs. "Fuck– I'm close..."

You huskily groan, lean back to release Gaban's fingers, then tilt your head towards Rayleigh. "Cum inside me", you plead.

"Oh– fuck, nghh..." Rayleigh's body tenses and he buries himself to the hilt, violently pulsating and filling your greedy cunt with yet another load of warm cum.

You bite your lower lip, clenching harder around him, milking him dry.

After a few heavy breaths to regain his composure, Rayleigh finally pulls out. He gazes at you with want and a hint of softness when he cups your chin and leans in for a deep languid kiss.

You're breathless but smiling by the time he finally leans back.

Rayleigh settles further on the bed, next to Gaban who's been observing you with a mischievous grin.

Happy where you are but still not quite sated, you move to the edge of the bed and sit there, ignoring the warm wetness spreading between your thighs. Your gaze instantly falls on your Captain.

Roger looks at you with intent, a hungry smile curving his mouth.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you distantly acknowledge that the man facing you is one of the most wanted, ill-famed, strong and dangerous men of this era. Although, you're a part of his crew, so it's a very arousing thought, rather than threatening.

"My turn", he says, and then he gets up without further ado, shrugging off his shirt.

Your mouth falls agape halfway through said shirt being dropped on the floor, and you observe him with want as he similarly discards boots, belts and pants. Goosebumps raise your skin despite the fire burning beneath. Nothing that you didn't know beforehand, but your Captain in any state of undress is still a sight to behold. What a snack!

A pair of laughs echo from the bed.

You blink then frown. "Did I say that out loud?"

Left in nothing more than his underwear, Roger heartily nods, beaming.

"Oh, well", you shrug, distantly aware that you should be embarrassed but remaining unbothered, "It's true." You get up and go straight to your Captain, holding a hand out once you're within reach to palm at his strong, hairy torso. You look up with a renewed fire within you.

Roger leans in for a deep kiss, and approvingly hums when you let him claim your mouth and run eager hands across your sweaty skin. He runs his tongue across your lower lip as he leans back, leaving you breathless and needy.

"Captain..."

Roger cracks a smile, places his hands around your waist and effortlessly lifts you up, laughing when you gasp in surprise. You barely have the time to wrap your legs around Roger that he's already sat on the bed with you straddling him.

You look at him from under, slightly flustered to be handled like this but even more aroused now that you feel his cock throbbing between your thighs, albeit through very frustrating underwear. You're soaking those, anyway, already rubbing your dripping cunt against him.

"So eager..." Roger's large hands slide around your hips to cup your ass, giving them a playful squeeze before venturing further, spreading the slick around your holes, teasing but never quite satisfying.

You pant and whine, and your head lolls back down while you angle your hips better, seeking more contact, more pressure, anything to quell the fire in your core.

"So, so needy", Roger growls just before his wandering fingertips return to your hips. You look back at him frustrated, outraged even, but he only smiles and hoists you up again, setting you a little to the side, straddling his thick thigh.

You throw him a confused look.

His smile widens and he lifts his knee a little, flexing his thigh underneath you and pressing into your wet folds. "Make yourself cum for me."

Your eyes roll back and you exhale a low throaty moan. Your thighs clench around his on reflex and your swollen clit throbs against his skin, his curly, thick hairs tickling you in the most satisfying way possible. You have a breathless laugh, then you quietly say, "Okay." You brace yourself on your Captain's stomach, and start riding his thigh.

Roger keeps a hand on your hip, guiding your movements, pressing you harder against him, and he lets the other wander free, reaching out for your neck, gently curling around it. Then he traces your jawline and thumbs at your lower lip.

You obediently open your mouth, drawing your tongue out.

Roger growls, and his grip tightens on your hip while he slides two thick fingers between your parted lips, rubbing against your tongue.

You whimper but diligently start sucking, coating his fingers with saliva while you roll your hips harder. Your clit impossibly throbs against Roger's warm skin, the brush of hairs sending sparks of pleasure across your over-sensitized skin, and the pressure of hard muscle against your whole cunt becoming painfully addictive. You move faster when another climax builds up, desperate for the high and mindlessly drooling around Roger's fingers.

"Close already?", Roger playfully asks. He pushes his fingers deeper into your mouth and slides his other hand from your hip to your ass, spreading you out.

You exhale a low moan and hump him harder.

Roger spreads the slick around your puckered hole, earning another few whimpers and a pleading glance, then slides his finger in to the knuckle. "Come on, cum for me."

Your eyes roll back and you lean back with a loud moan, releasing his fingers when you tip over the edge. Your whole body tenses over his, your inner wall clenching in waves as you ride the high.

Roger makes sure to keep a constant pressure between your thighs, extending your climax until you're a shivering, panting mess, falling limp against his chest. He gently pats your back, murmuring, "There, there. You did good."

You blearily blink while you regain your breath, then you look up and offer your Captain a lazy smile. "Thanks, Captain."

Rayleigh has an exaggerated sigh. "Well, you look more tired now, so hopefully the effect of those fire peaches are starting to wear out." When your eyes find his, he cocks an eyebrow and stares at you with a fondly exasperated smile.

You lick your dry lips, swallow around a too dry throat, then cough a little.

Gaban quickly fetches a cup of water for you. "Come, sit."

Roger helps you off him and back down on the bed.

Rayleigh gently pats your shoulder while you sit between him and your Captain.

You chug your water in one go, then stretch your arms and legs a little and ask for another cup. With your mind a bit clearer, you turn your attention back to Captain Roger. Your eyes study his underwear, more precisely the conspicuous wet spot you left there, and you realize how small it seems in comparison to the obvious bulge beneath.

Rayleigh slides you a knowing look when you glance his way.

You half-heartedly glare, then you turn to Gaban.

He laughs brightly. "What? We've all been there."

You blink. "Huh. That explains a lot..." You bite your lower lip and focus back on your Captain. Well... On the obvious bulge in his underwear, that is. Your eyebrow twitches at the sight and you waste no time in undressing him. Of course, he's huge. Not deterred in the least, you kneel beside him on the bed, tentatively wrap a hand around his cock and start stroking.

He encourages you, with a hand across your back that gently presses fingertips into your skin when he moans or groans.

Emboldened by the new range of sounds you manage to coax from your Captain, and firmly intending to hear some more, you lean in and blow him off. You shamelessly moan while you play with your tongue around his shaft, mentally picturing what it'll be like to have such a massive cock inside you.

Roger is as loud in bed as he is everywhere else, and for some reason it makes him even hotter. You soon learn with delight that he's very vocal, verbal even, praising you for making him feel good, guiding you with short instructions and encouraging you further. His hand slides up your back and wraps around your nape, not quite pushing but still gently keeping you down on him.

You groan around his shaft when a couple of fingertips press into your scalp, and you earnestly keep blowing him off. You gag a little when you try to take his cock to the hilt, but you wrap a hand around the base to reach what doesn't fit and you suck harder on the upstroke, hollowing your cheeks and drooling spit and precum. You let out a surprised moan when a hand spreads your juices – not only yours, but that's a detail – and presses teasing fingertips around your sloppy cunt. You keep blowing your Captain off but you lift your gaze.

Rayleigh makes eye contact with you, smirking before he dives in to kiss Roger.

You clench around Gaban's fingers when Roger's free hand possessively cards at Rayleigh's nape, the fire rekindled within you at the sight of their shared intimacy. I need more. I need them so bad. You pull up with a wet sound and a trail of drool still connecting your lips so Roger's flared tip, heavily panting while you observe desire and affection in their gaze when they break apart.

Gaban's fingers bring you back to your current situation when he curls them against your sweet spot, sending a jolt of electricity through your core. He leans over your back and brings his lips under your ear to playfully say, "Insatiable and voyeur."

Your inner walls squeeze his fingers again and you bite your lower lip. "Maybe", you concede at length.

"Hm? Feeling shy now?" Rayleigh gets up and fetches another cup of water for you. "The fire peaches are starting to wear out."

You sigh when Gaban's fingers leave you empty and fluttering around nothing, and you glare behind you.

Gaban pulls himself up the bed, leaning onto a pillow placed against the cabin wall. He opens his legs and pats the space between them, a playful smile at his lips.

"Oh." You crawl over to him, and sit between his thighs, resting your back against his chest. Just being caged by his body has your cunt throbbing in want, and the way his hands wander free across your heated skin makes you feel even more desired, even more needy, almost desperate.

Gaban's hands spread your thighs when they reach there, showing off your soaked, twitching, puffy cunt.

Roger lets out a low interested hum, then he turns around and lays stomach down on the bed with his head between your thighs. Without an ounce of hesitation or shame he dives in to eat you out, eagerly dipping his tongue between your folds and sucking your swollen clit.

Your fingers tangle in his thick hair and lightly tug. "Oh fuck, fuck– Oh shit– Why are you all so good at this– ngh..." You try to wriggle around but with little to no result, Gaban and Roger perfectly pinning you between them, offered and basically at their mercy.

Roger's tongue tastes you in the most intimate way possible – not only you, and that's a detail but it's a very arousing one – and the rumble of his appreciative groans vibrates against your core, making you weak in the knees.

Your inner walls flutter around his tongue. "More... More..."

Gaban molds his body against yours and playfully tugs on your nipples, earning a few whimpers when his warm breath tickles your shoulder and neck.

Your eyelids flutter shut while you bask in the sensations, delighted to be taken in such good care by the hottest men in the crew. You gasp and open your eyes again when a wider girth than before stretches your cunt.

Roger throws you a cocky smirk before diving back in to suck your clit. He starts thrusting his fingers shortly after, eyes trained on your face.

"Ooh, fuck–" Your eyes roll back in their sockets. That's three of his fingers. Three. Fingers. Considering how big your Captain is, you reason with yourself that said fingers should make it easier for you to take his cock. You glance back down and bite your lower lip. "Oh, Captain", you moan, "This is so good..."

He smiles against your folds and slides another finger in.

You whine at the extra stretch and break eye contact when he curls his fingers inside you.

One of Gaban's hands leave your nipple only to be replaced by an eager mouth.

You look down and find Rayleigh sat by Gaban's side, cupping a tit and earnestly sucking on it, hunger obvious in his eyes when you meet his gaze.

Roger keeps his fingers curled inside you and starts rocking them against your sweet spot, slowly but firmly.

"Ooh, fuck– oh–" Your body tenses under their combined ministrations, waiting for the moment the coil will snap.

Rayleigh sucks harder, rubbing the tip of his tongue against your hard nipple.

Gaban pinches the other one and lightly pulls, bouncing your tit.

Roger rubs his fingers more insistently, bringing you closer to the edge.

Your cunt clenches around him, he growls against your folds and around your clit in response, and finally you cum and squirt around his fingers.

Roger avidly drinks your juices, pressing his fingertips against your sweet spot to coax more out of you, and he keeps eating you out until you're a trembling, whimpering mess. He finally sits back up, a cocky smile on his swollen, glistening lips.

Your head falls back into the curve of Gaban's shoulder, and you take a moment to regain your breath.

Gaban's hands provide soft touches and eager squeezes, never urging but always arousing.

Rayleigh's mouth leave a trail of wet kisses from your chest to your neck, and playfully nibbles your earlobe before he retrieves the lube and hands it to Roger, who eagerly grabs it. He glances at you and waits for your approving nod before releasing the bottle.

Roger coats his cock with a healthy dose of lube, then he kneels between your parted legs, lines himself up and slowly slides into you.

Heavy sighs leave you with each inch that slides in. It's electrifying, after a whole night of already very good sex, to feel new sensations, and the extra stretch of a bigger cock is quite enjoyable too.

Once he's in to the hilt he exhales a satisfied hum, wraps his large hands around your thighs and starts pounding, earning a few lewd sounds.

Gaban's hands return to your chest, playful as ever, massaging and teasing.

Rayleigh's hand cups your chin, rubs the pad of a thumb across your lower lip, prompting you to glance at him. A mischievous smile plays at the corners of his lips, and he slides two fingers between your lips, rubbing them against your tongue.

You moan around his fingers and suck them, coating them with saliva and twisting your tongue around them.

Rayleigh soon slides a third finger into your mouth, and you can't help the way your cunt clenches around Roger's cock in response.

Your Captain stops moving. "You're close?"

You whine around Rayleigh's fingers and roll your hips against Roger's, rubbing your clit against his happy trail.

Roger snaps his hips into yours and smirks as you whine. "Hold it", he says as he presses his happy trail against your swollen, throbbing clit.

You release Rayleigh's fingers with a wet sound and try to still under them. You're too close, so you whine, "I can't..."

"Hold it", Roger demands with a hungry smirk and an extra burst of Conqueror's Haki.

Your body seems heavy, unable to move for a moment where everything and even time itself seems to stand still. Then the moment is gone, you can move normally again, and while you try to even your breathing you realize with a twinge of despair that your climax is long gone. You whimper under your Captain. "That's mean..."

"Not if we want to wear you out", Roger smiles. He pulls out, earning an undignified whine at the loss, then he lays on the bed and invitingly pats his hip. "Come ride me."

"Oh, yeah." You promptly get out of Gaban's embrace and crawl to your Captain, straddling him and rubbing your wet folds against his hard cock.

The difference in size between you two is even more tangible seen from here, with Roger's powerful hips obviously larger than yours spread above his, and his hand covering yours where it lays across his stomach.

You adjust your position and guide his cock between your folds, then you slowly sink down, taking the time to appreciate the stretch of his girth deliciously filling you. You rock your hips back once your hips meet his, and exhale a low satisfied groan when you take him to the hilt.

"Greedy", Roger playfully comments.

"Sue me", you jab back, and start riding him like your life depends on it, not caring in the least how loud you moan as long as you reach out the climax that you were denied just now.

Rayleigh sits by your side and reaches out with a thumb to part your lips wider.

You absentmindedly lick, then your gaze drifts to his renewed erection. When you glance back up his gaze turned a shade darker, a shade hungrier. You smile against his thumb, and draw your tongue out as far as you can.

Rayleigh kneels beside you, stroking his cock. When you draw your tongue out he rubs the tip of his cock against it.

You adjust your position so you can bounce your hips over Roger's more easily, and you happily blow Rayleigh off again.

"So eager", Roger comments from under you, hands tightening around your hips.

Gaban appreciatively growls, drawing a side-glance from you. He's sprawled on the mattress and leisurely palming at his cock while he surveys the scene.

Rayleigh gently teases, "A bit of an exhibitionist, too?"

You moan around his cock in response.

"Let's give a good show, then", he says, pulling his cock out from your lips before kneeling behind your back.

Gaban has the courtesy of bringing you some water – you hadn't noticed how dry your lips and throat were but it's a literal lifesaver – before resuming his intense observation of you getting wrecked by the Captain and his First Mate.

Rayleigh coats his cock with some extra lube and lines it with your twitching ass. He slowly pushes in, waiting for you to adjust at the first sign of discomfort.

Roger stops moving and attentively looks at your face. He raises a hand to cup your cheek when you close your eyes and frown, and he softly asks, "You good?"

You heavily breathe, and you nod the affirmative. You lean into his touch, idly kiss his palm then open your eyes. Rayleigh still waits so you rock your hips back for him to keep going, and you hold your Captain's gaze when you next say, "Not quite enough yet."

Roger's gaze turns hungry, flickers towards Rayleigh for a moment then back to you, softness and eagerness both obvious in his eyes. The hand cupping your cheek curls close to your nape and pulls you in for a deep demanding kiss that leaves you breathless.

Rayleigh uses the distraction to slide further in, earning a few moans that get louder once you break the kiss for air.

"H– Holy fuuuck–" You groan and bite your lower lip when Rayleigh is sheathed into your ass, throbbing while you adjust. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder if there's a chance you'll ever get fucked like this again. You ignore the nagging voice further back in a corner that says you can't possibly get that lucky twice.

"Fuck– You're so tight–" Rayleigh is slightly leaning over your back, heavily breathing and throbbing inside you.

You experimentally rock your hips, whining and moaning when you feel the way both cocks deliciously rub all the nice spots inside you. You take a couple of deep breaths, then you start rocking your hips like there's no tomorrow, impaling your greedy holes onto Roger and Rayleigh's cocks, feeling the stretch of your inner walls and the way they flutter around their throbbing shafts, getting close, so close...

"Don't cum just yet", Roger says as he makes eye contact with you, claiming your submission with another precise burst of Conqueror's Haki.

You freeze on the spot, light-headed but unable to do anything but obey. Your body wants, needs, demands release, tingling so hard it hurts, and with a tight coil of raw pleasure ready to snap curling deep in your gut– You can't. You heavily pant, whine, then sob. "Captain Roger..."

Roger lifts a hand to wipe a stray tear away. "Hey, hey. Look at me."

You turn blurry eyes to him.

"Does it hurt?"

You weakly nod the affirmative.

"Badly?"

You shrug and sniffle.

"I think you can hold it once more and then I'll let you cum. How does that sound?"

You whine.

"Come on, use your words."

"I'm tired..."

"My point exactly: the harder you cum, the sooner you're done with this and you can get some proper rest."

You sigh, then you weakly smile. "Okay."

Rayleigh leans over your back, breath fanning hot over your neck and shoulder when he nuzzles his nose under your ear. He huskily says, "Why don't you let us fuck you, then?"

"Yes, please", you quietly say, throwing a glance towards Gaban.

He offers you a playful smile. "Can't get enough, huh?"

You half-heartedly pout.

Rayleigh starts thrusting, slow and deep, and he's shortly followed by Roger.

You lose your composure but you manage to hold Gaban's gaze.

He swallows. "Alright..." He gets up and places himself next to you so you can blow him off.

You eagerly engulf him, and you moan of delight once you've got all of them inside you. Who knew being full of dick was so fucking satisfying? Your inner walls tighten around Roger and Rayleigh's cocks, the latter moving faster inside you, throbbing harder.

After a while the First Mate's thrusts become erratic, and the feeling of a new release inside you almost sends you off the edge–

You release Gaban's cock, heavily panting, almost there, almost–

Almost but Roger, ever so attentive, nearly chokes you with a thick burst of Conqueror's Haki, lowly ordering you, "Hold it."

You're panting and sobbing and trembling and your inner walls clench like crazy, but your climax recedes again while you're still milking Rayleigh's dick dry. You exhale a desperate whine when he pulls out, leaving you twitching and empty and dripping cum onto Roger's cock.

Gaban cups your chin, tilts it up for a deep kiss, then murmurs against your lips, "Can I?"

"Uh-huh." You nod the affirmative, too exhausted to manage more than non-verbal consent but just about desperate to cum.

Gaban kneels behind you to claim your ass, and soon enough him and Roger are fucking you silly.

Thoughts empty, body full of intense sensations, you're craving more but don't have enough force left to beg at this point. You just go with the flow, occasionally meeting Rayleigh's satisfied gaze while the other two men tag-team you.

Roger snap his hips into yours and relentlessly rubs his thick cock against your sweet spot, biting his lower lip while he pounds into you with all his might.

Gaban's hands are probably leaving fingertip-shaped bruises on your hips, and he impales your ass on his thick cock, heavily grunting and throbbing, growing harder inside you–

"Oh– ooh– fuck–" The extra throbbing, the sight beneath you, the smell and sounds in the room and– You're getting close, and you're getting close fast. "Oh– Oh fuuuck–"

Roger's intense gaze locks with yours. He dangerously smiles, and thrusts faster and deeper into you, his cock getting thicker and throbbing faster inside you.

You whine in alarm when Gaban stills behind you, snapping his hips one final time before unloading inside your ass.

"That's it", Roger lowly says. With a short wave of Conqueror's Haki he adds, "Cum hard for us."

You wail and your vision goes white. Intense, burning-hot pleasure explodes from within you, your greedy holes squeezing and milking Roger's and Gaban's cock dry, and you ride the high for what seems like an eternity, muscles tense and voice hoarse, out of breath and exhilaratingly electrified. The down hits even harder: you're a whimpering, trembling mess by the time you come back to the mortal plane and you're already laid down on the mattress after everyone pulled out. Your body goes limp and you pass out shortly afterwards.

Roger knocks at the door to Gaban's cabin then comes in, smiling at the endearing sight of you curled against Gaban on his bed. "Still asleep, huh?"

"Yeah."

Roger walks to the bed and gently brushes his fingers against your cheekbone, light as a feather.

You exhale a soft sigh in your sleep, and slightly lean into his touch.

Roger deeply hums, and his smile grows. He looks at Gaban next. "Crocus said she should be out of the woods in a few hours, that it'll take some more time to fully get the aphrodisiac out of her system."

Gaban nods. "Okay, either way I'm not surprised she's exhausted", he smiles.

"We did wear her out, huh?"

Gaban huffs a laugh. "More like fucked her brains out."

Roger widely smiles. He pats Gaban's shoulder and leans in to kiss his forehead. "Call Rayleigh or me if you need anything", he says before leaving.

"Sure." Gaban curls an arm around you, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips, and murmurs, "I'm all set, though."

The sun is high up in the sky when you blearily blink awake, bright light filtering through the curtains but still somewhat blinding. You groan and turn to face the other side, meeting a warm body halfway. You blink and look up, find Gaban smiling at you. You sharply inhale as you remember why – and with who else – you spent the night in his cabin. Heat instantly rises to your face, and you're positive you've become beet red in the short moment that goes by before you duck your head in shame.

Gaban softly asks, "How do you feel?"

After a quiet moment, heart racing, you murmur, "Embarrassed."

"There's no reason to. But I meant... do you still feel the effects of the fire peaches?"

"Oh, um..." You blink and take a deep breath, then observe the sensations in your body. No acute distress despite the slight tightness in your chest, no fire inside your gut, no insatiable arousal. No foggy mind either... You move a little. "Ow, ow–" You exhale a weak chuckle. "I'm sore, but I'm... fine, thanks."

He huffs a laugh. "Predictable."

"Yeah..." You look up again. "Did you stay here, with me, all this time?"

"Yeah, I wanted to make sure you were good when you'd wake up. Roger asked me to anyway, and he made sure nobody would come here and disturb you."

You softly smile. "That's nice..."

"Don't mention it. Do you need help to stretch? Or if you're too tired, I can give you a massage."

Your cheeks heat up, and you have half a mind to think you'd be taking advantage of his kindness if you accepted, but he insists.

"I know we've been rough, so I'll be happy to relieve you a bit."

You shyly nod the affirmative.

"Lay down, then."

When you turn around you notice that you're still butt naked, though mostly clean, with no traces of your nightly activities left visible across your skin. "Did you wash me?"

Gaban's hands starts massaging, gently working their way down your nape and shoulders. "We didn't want to risk waking you up by taking you to the bathroom, so Rayleigh brought towels so we could clean the mess we'd made of you."

Your ears are burning, and you keep the rest of your questions to yourself.

Gaban's hands work wonders, relaxing knots and tensions everywhere they go, lulling you into a nice relaxed state, fully focused on his gentle hands, his warmth, the way every tension leaves you.

You start yawning when he's about midway, and apologize with an awkward smile.

"Hey, it's okay. It's supposed to make you feel more relaxed. If yawning helps, it's all good."

You yawn another few times until he's done, and your body feels lighter than ever, pampered and handled like this. "Thanks." Your gaze drifts to the side and at length, you add, "For everything. I mean it."

Gaban lays back beside you and pulls the cover over your shoulders. He traces your cheekbone with his thumb. "Hey, I wanted to help, I did. It's alright, you're fine and that's all that matters."

Heart growing a little bigger, you close your eyes and lean into his touch. "Thank you."

"And everyone very much enjoyed the whole night so don't be ashamed of anything, okay?"

You purse your lips, huff a groan.

Gaban leans in and kisses you, soft and tender.

Heat rises up to your face before he leans back.

"I said I'd do it without those fire peaches, and I meant it. Rayleigh and Roger felt the same. Stop freaking out."

You bite your lower lip. "Yeah?"

He exhales a sigh, halfway between exasperation and fondness. "Really."

"Okay", you say, and then you snuggle a little closer, selfishly enjoying the comfort of his embrace.

He smiles a little. "Now, it doesn't have to be a one-time thing if you don't want it to be. Alright?"

You fail to suppress a pleased smile and nod, immensely flustered but equally grateful. "Do you mind if I stay here a little longer?"

Gaban smiles wider. "Wouldn't want it any other way", he softly says as he wraps his arm around you and pulls you flush against him.