#who put some crew member's face and put on his own??? WHAT THE FUCK ARE WE TALKKNG ABOUT

[trekfacility]

why is star trek voyager so CREEPY literally One Big Horror Movie

my honest reaction after watching "cold fire" yet another scary ass episode

[hazelfoureyes]

The Safeword is RadioApple (part 1)

I’m gonna go ahead and apologize right now

Lucifer x FemaleReader x Alastor

Part 1 ꒰აMaleReader✧FemaleReader໒꒱ Part 2 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱ Part 3 ꒰აAlastorxLucifer໒꒱ tidbit (cute, not smut) Part 4 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱✨NEW✨ ₊⊹⁀➴ Lucifer wins⟡Alastor Wins

Alastor would give you anything, all you had to do was ask. When you asked for Lucifer, he delivered. But after seeing just how much you enjoyed Alastor’s rough handling, Lucifer takes a turn and gets a little lost in the pleasure.

tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x Reader, Lucifer x Reader, smut, RadioApple in a sense, fem reader, creampie, breath play, rough sex, Alastor is an eternal little shit, soft jazz, hard jazz, Luci calls himself Daddy, 🗣️ READER GETS SPITROASTED, threesome, cervix hulk smashed, half assed blowjob, help I got too horny on main

Minors dni

“Sir.”

Lucifer jumped, whipping around and shoving Alastor’s face away. “You are a living nightmare, fuck!” He hated being snuck up on, as most people do. Adjusting his hat, he looked around the hotel lobby to see if anyone else witnessed his personal jump scare. Charlie and Vaggie were seated nearby, but hadn’t paid them any attention.

“I aim to please! Now,” Alastor gestured to the stairs, “I, unfortunately, need to show you something upstairs.”

“Ha!” Lucifer forced out a laugh, “Ha. Haaa- Not a chance, scarecrow. Find someone else to search for your brain.” He smirked to himself. “Did you hear that Charlie? I made a joke.”

But Charlie was not laughing. She finally turned her focus to them. “Dad, you have to start trying to get along with Alastor.” She looked to Alastor who was nodding along as if he actually cared at all, “He’s trying to spend time with you. Come on, Dad. For me?”

With a pout, he dramatically crossed his arms, “Fine. I’ll play nice, for you. Not for him.” Lucifer glared daggers at Alastor. “Fuck him.”

“Daaad!” She groaned.

“Yeah yeah, I’m going.” 

Alastor let his microphone follow behind Lucifer’s back, an unseen and unfelt safety net so he couldn’t back out. When they approached Alastor’s door, Lucifer put up his hands as if to physically stop the situation from progressing, “There is no way in all of hell I am going in your bedroom.”

Alastor’s eyes rolled, frustrated already with the interaction. “Are you sure about that?” He pushed the door open, using his mic to make contact with the small of Lucifer’s back. He stopped resisting when he finally looked into the room.

He took a step in, willingly, and as he saw you sitting in the center of the bed in just your silk sleep robe, he let out a quiet, “What the fuck is this?”

Then a louder, “Heeey, kitten…”. The sound of the door locking made his head whip back to Alastor, teeth bared.

“Luci.”

Softened under the sound of his own name from your lips he brought his attention back to the bed.

It was no secret to anyone that you two were fond of each other. It was the little things you did that endeared the fallen angel to you, how you doted on him. Filling his glass at dinner when you noticed it getting close to empty, holding the door for him, keeping eye contact when he went off on some excited tangent.

Everyone was also aware you were Alastor’s person. And Alastor would give you anything you wanted in death; and today you happened to want Luci.

You’d seen the broadcasts of the King of Hell defending his daughter during the last extermination. The power he gave off, even from your screen, brought goosebumps down your arms. So when you found your way to the hotel, you were elated to see Lucifer himself readily available for interactions. Your luck continued, as your father’s love of jazz had been passed down to you and allowed the radio demon to notice your presence among the sea of new residents. Following the sounds of Nat ‘King’ Cole, he found you one evening in your room, and a mutual fondness for music bore a new friend. And then, more. 

Soon enough you were a regular member of the Hazbin Hotel core crew, by way of Alastor.

That’d been some months ago now, and you finally had the courage to ask Alastor for a special favor.

No part of him understood your motivation, but the idea of making the king of hell pussy-whipped to his darling was understanding enough. And, of course, the pleasure of watching you enjoy yourself. While he was capable all his own, he was happy to allow someone else to fill in. Not to mention—- no, actually, definitely mention the fact it would give him a little more power in the tense dynamic between himself and Lucifer.

For Alastor, sharing you physically wasn’t an issue. Sex was something he did for your pleasure, though he did enjoy the control he held over you in those intimate moments.

Watching you mewl under someone else, knowing he gave the permission, that Lucifer would never have a chance in Hell if The Radio Demon didn't allow it, made his head dizzy with the loss of blood flow. Whatever pleasure Lucifer could give you was pleasure he has granted you both. The idea of someone pining for you but never having a chance unless he says so made him feel powerful.

“I have a request, of sorts.” You tried to keep your smile still, cheeks twitching with pure nerves. The room was lit by only two small lamps on either nightstand and the light coming from the half open bathroom.

Lucifer approached you, making a dramatic point of going past Alastor. The radio demon chuckled, the king of hell scowled. He placed one knee on the end of the bed, trying to forget this was the spot you shared most nights with Alastor. His smile encouraged you to continue.

“You can say no.” You added quickly. 

“Why would I ever do that?” Lucifer continued to smile at you, too sweetly for what you were going to ask.

“Many reasons.” You added quicker. 

“Come on, tell Luci.” He laughed softly at the idea of denying you anything.

You pressed the tips of your index fingers together nervously, “I want you to fuck me.”

He tried to blink but his eyelids only seemed to rise further and further up his face with every attempt.

“You what now?”

His eyes darted to Alastor, who was now crawling onto the bed and settling behind you. 

“It was a fairly straightforward statement, sir.” Alastor’s tone was always teetering on mocking when he addressed Lucifer, “My dear would like you, for some god awful reason, to bed her.”

If this hadn’t been such a shock, Lucifer would have quipped, “Oh because you can’t, you overdressed maitre d’?”

But when he opened his mouth, there was nothing. He just stared at you. Alastor’s long legs and lanky arms came down beside you, behind you. You looked like the enticing light of an angler fish’s lure, sharp teeth shining just over your shoulder. 

“I thought-,” he motioned between the two of you.

You nodded, “Alastor is happy when I’m happy. And right now, I’d be overjoyed to spend an evening taking care of you.”

Oh, why couldn’t you have said it so sweetly the first time? Take care of him? You always did. Every time he felt something lacking he’d find you close behind offering him just the thing.

Whether a smile, or supportive word, or just a sympathetic ear.

Shifting onto your hands and knees, you crawled toward Lucifer. His face was flush, his brows knitted together in some mix of worry and confusion.

“You don’t have to do that, kitten. I don’t need that.” He reached out a hand to touch your cheek but stopped himself; he’d never touched you before. He had gone out of his way to avoid it, because he couldn’t bear what it would do to him. He’d just be hurting himself, he had thought. His hand began to pull away but you reached out with both of yours and took hold of his wrist.

“I don’t have to do anything, ever, Luci,” Alastor’s grin widened as you said it. A hum of approval only he could hear. A silent, ‘That’s my girl.’

“This is about what I want.” You leaned up to rest your cheek in his open palm, “I’ll accept any answer from you.” Your eyes staring up at him promised safety, “So, what do you want?”

He buried his face in his free hand, opening his fingers to look over you once more. In the shade of the canopied bed, Alastor sat motionless. But Lucifer couldn’t see him, not because of the shadows but because his focus was so purely on you. He had absolute tunnel vision, which happened often when you two would speak. Lucifer made a low sound, coming from somewhere deep in his chest,  hidden beneath all his shame and sense of inadequacy.

Your question was answered as he removed his hat, tossing it to the chaise lounge near the wall. You sat back on your legs and gave him space to remove his coat. Your heart seemed to double its pace, skin practically vibrating. A not-insignificant part of you expected a gentle but firm, “kindly fuck off.”

He seemed to be avoiding eye contact as he pulled his bow tie loose, only returning his knee to the bed when he’d kicked off his boots. Just the shifting of the weight of the bed made your thighs twitch, finally. Alastor leaned backed and watched, Lucifer’s gaze was full of uncertainty as he crawled to you. 

Hilarious. Already worth the price of admission. 

Both on your knees, you leaned up and placed a chaste kiss on Lucifer’s lips. Pulling back, you looked at him and he felt like we’re looking at the sun. Your face was so bright, and warm. What light were you reflecting back at him? Surely not his own. That was long dead. Long buried under bruised wings and lost promises. 

You snaked your fingers into his hair and brought him in for a deeper kiss. When you bit gently on his bottom lip, he shakily opened his mouth. Your grin spread across both of your faces as you pushed your way past his lips.

Lucifer’s tongue was long, and tapered more than you’d expected. It moved, unsure, against yours. Your hands slunk out of his hair and down his chest, sliding until finding the buttons of his vest. 

You felt him gasp into you, and when you began to open his shirt he pulled away, “It’s been… a very long time.”

A scream echoed in your skulll, your own scream, thankfully entirely in your mind. He was so cute. So soft. He looked so worried, you wanted to rip him to pieces with affection. Was that possible? You were going to try.

Your hands fumbled over his belt, the tremble in your fingers making the pants button feel like an aptitude test. Your mouth returned to him, kissing down his cheeks and into the space under his jaw. Finally you could slip your hand down into his pants, and you hissed without thinking.

He was painfully hard, throbbing head pressed into his skin. 

Did you do this? Had you gotten the King like this with just a question and a kiss? Tip nearly purple with pressure, you rested your forehead on his collarbone and watched his stomach jump as you wrapped your fingers around it.

Alastor fought back a laugh, tongue nearly cut clean off with the attempt. This was better than he had expected. And he had just the idea to push it over the top.

When your head dipped to swipe your tongue over Lucifer’s cock, you both startled at the sudden sound of music. First you looked to the radio, then to Alastor.

One hand was loosening his bow tie, the other unbuckling his pants. 

“Don’t stop on my accord,” he bit his bottom lip, watching your attention return to Lucifer’s lap.

Lucifer raised a finger in protest, “I wasn’t aware this was a group activity.”

“The more the merrier.” Alastor whipped his belt off and tossed it to the floor, other hand pulling his member free.

“Three’s a crowd.” 

“Two heads are better than one.” When Alastor lifted your robe away and sunk himself into you, no preparation, you moaned into the blonde hair at the base of Lucifer’s cock.

Your breath over his shaft and now down his balls made his hips buck against you. Your hands gripped at Lucifer’s thighs, trying to get steady enough to return your mouth to his waiting heat. You could smell his arousal, your head dizzy with so many of your senses being assaulted by both men. 

“You okay, kitten?” A concerned hand came to your cheek. 

Your watery, lust clouded eyes met his, “It feels so good, Luci.” His dick jerked. When you finally managed to get him in your mouth his head fell back, legs under him twitching with the need to move along to the bobbing of your head. Lucifer was wider than Alastor, the corners of your mouth burning as you tried to take in as much of him as possible. 

Alastor’s hand raked long nails down your back, a whine ran from your throat and down Lucifer’s shaft.  He moaned in turn, trying to not connect the dots between himself and Alastor.

“I think you may need a little demonstration, from someone more–, “ Alastor leaned down, his face now inches from Lucifer’s. His hand wrapped around your neck, “experienced.” He pulled you up by your throat.

Lucifer watched, your knees no longer touching the bed as Alastor fucked up into you. One hand gripping your throat, one arm holding your body against his. Your face began to redden, and your thighs noticeably clenching as best they could, legs open and feet on either side of Alastor’s body. Lucifer winced, you looked pained, he wanted—

“Aa--Alastor,” Your voice was like honey, thick and sweet around Alastor’s name. Lucifer’s face fell flat, how could he have that? What did he need to do to have you say his name in such a debauched way? Why did that gangly sack of bones get all of the fun?

“See? She can handle more than you’d expect.” Alastor grinned, planting a kiss on your neck. You could see Lucifer watching through your wet eyelashes, his cock twitching repeatedly as his hand finally came down to touch himself. 

With the hand not holding onto Alastor’s wrist at your throat, you reached out for Lucifer. “Luci.” 

Alastor let you fall forward. Keeping your hips in the air and knees dangling just above the comforter, he continued his rough pace into your sopping cunt. Pulling your body on and off of his length with harsh drags he watched you lick from the base to the top of Lucifer’s member. Each thrust from him knocking your chin against it. 

When you popped the head back into your mouth and moaned around it from Alastor’s continued fucking, Lucifer gripped your hair with both hands. Alastor’s own erection jumped in you, the king of hell himself buckling from his dearest’s mouth. He could break him entirely by just pulling you off of Lucifer’s cock and refusing to return you. He was positive Lucifer would cry into his ruined orgasm if he did such a thing.

Tempting.

But, he promised to play along, for you. And he would, at his own terms. 

He pushed aside the thought entirely, instead returning to the task in front of him. Your tongue was pinned down when Lucifer was in your mouth, cock too fat to allow any room for movement. You abandoned trying to suck him off, and changed tactics to lick and kiss the sensitive flesh in your hands. 

Lucifer’s mind was—- he wasn't sure where exactly. His consciousness splintered around you. The feeling of you; your tongue was swirling around him, the first contact he’s had other than himself in literal years. The sound of you; your soft moans and huffs were both audible and physical, the hot breath ghosting over him. The sight of you; head in his lap as he leaned back, your ass in the air and making a satisfying slapping noise every time– 

Alastor. His eyes met Lucifer’s and a wicked grin took hold of his features. Lucifer could practically hear Alastor whisper across your body, ‘Watch this.’ Maybe Alastor had thought it, but he kept it to himself. 

Your hands began pumping Lucifer’s length while your body was slightly dragged away as Alastor backed up and let your knees find some solid ground again. 

Lucifer sat on his legs still, eyes flitting from between your face to the place you and Alastor connected. He could see Alastor disappearing inside you, and every intrusion had you gasping and mewling into the blankets. Your hand was still gently stroking him with outstretched arms, eyes clenched close.

Alastor smirked up at Lucifer, coming down over your back to reach around your body and find your clit with his middle finger. Immediately, you reacted. Legs squeezing together, hands stilling around your king’s cock. With a bite and lick to your shoulder blade, the radio demon set a bruising pace against you. That warmth in your core was spreading down as you felt him press against your cervix with every kiss of his hips. 

You choked out his name, a chant Lucifer had never wanted to hear before now. How could you make Alastor’s name sound so delicious? He wrapped his fingers around yours on his dick and began moving with you. Your eyes rolled up to him, a weak smile forming before your orgasm made your jaw lock. Alastor knew your body so well, bringing you to orgasm was like playing a well practiced song on the piano. Both required strong and fast fingers and a sense of rhythm. 

With a few more deeper, shorter moves Alastor stilled, too. Your knees slid down as your hips sank into the bed. 

Lucifer let your hand go limp, swallowing hard. He wasn’t ignorant to the way Alastor smiled at him as he reclined into the headboard, tucking himself back into his pants. 

“I have complete faith in you, for once.” Alastor teased Lucifer, hand motioning to your still limp body. His smile seemed to dare Lucifer, challenge him, to keep going even with Alastor’s release sitting pretty in you. 

Luci took a deep breath, steadying himself mentally, before pushing the hair from your forehead, “Hey there, kitten. What do ya need?”

With an uncharacteristic hunger in your eyes, you forced your line of sight up to him, “You, Luci.” Visibly shuddering, you sat up and brought your legs towards him, your knees touching each other in an odd display of shyness. Your hand felt at your entrance, Alastor’s seed just beginning to find its way from your relaxed walls. 

“Is it okay?” You asked, spreading the thick fluid between your fingers in front of Luci. 

Something between a grimace and a pout came over him, it wasn’t his ideal situation but the idea of — just how much he’d slip and slide between your folds with the added lubrication made him feel feral. He wasn’t stupid, he knew Alastor hoped to ruin you and sour his experience. He decided to not allow it. 

With a kiss to his nose, you wrapped your arms around his neck and lied back. You weren’t sure you were breathing anymore when you felt his scorching head slot up with your entrance. He rubbed the leaking fluid over himself and you with swipes up and down your lips. The difference between his heat and the cooled cum made him shiver in turn. 

As he began to press into you, your body instinctively scooted away. It took both of your hands hooked under his arms to stay still enough for him to make any real headway. 

Luci stopped, your face clearly pained. Your head shook in response, “Please, you just have to keep going. I’ll adjust.” While both of his heads swelled with pride – Alastor’s cock clearly smaller – Luci didn’t notice the wild eyes of the radio demon. 

Alastor brought a hand to his face, red eyes peering between his spread fingers, smile threatening to break at the seams as he watched Lucifer Morningstar fucking his cum into his darling doe. 

 What a pitiful sight. How humiliating.

What would Charlie think of her big bad daddy? What would the other sins say? If they could see their king now, slick and shiny?

Your nails cut into his skin, and you were sure you were tearing slightly. Instead of attempting to thrust his way in, he chose to just continually press. The way your body seemed to be splitting made you second guess your decisions. But when his head finally popped in, your hole got some reprieve. He stopped, taking deep breaths. 

Tears were collecting on your waterline, Luci noticed and leaned on an elbow to wipe them away. His blonde hair was falling forward now, tickling at your forehead. 

You nodded, answering a question he didn’t ask, and he continued to force your walls open to accommodate him. The only sound in the room was the soft instrumental jazz number playing from atop the dresser. Your voice was stuck in your throat, Luci was focusing too hard to form words. Alastor could speak, but the music was just too enjoyable to interrupt. 

Finally, after what could have been two minutes or twenty, you felt Luci bottom out. You had to just lie there for a second, never having felt something so solid in your otherwise soft body. No slight to Alastor, who was perfectly skilled in his abilities. Luci was just—- more than you had expected. 

As he pulled out, you thanked the heavens and hell and the rings within that Alastor had left you so wet and already softened. The first few thrusts were genuinely uncomfortable, the pleasure you felt almost entirely mental, drawn from the reality of who was pulling your insides back and forth. You were so tight around him that he too was almost pained; so much pressure but no way to move enough to get any release.

Slowly, the ring of your entrance relented and Luci could finally move at a normal pace. He would take himself out to his head before slipping back in. Every thrust made your body spread around him, a semi-truck through a field of sunflowers. Your body didn’t stand a chance, and you were grateful he chose gentleness for his entrance.

He leaned back on both hands, using the position to fucked up into you at an angle. He knew very well where to hit to begin gathering your pleasure.

Alastor dropped his head, yours between his legs. His hair made a short curtain, hiding the look he was giving you from Luci. He adores the faces you make when you are happy. Excited. Pleasured. You tried to offer him a smile, but you couldn’t manage it for long. Your eyes would wretch shut, lips tighten as you focused on the feeling Luci was providing. Focused on the sensations, of being so full, so wet, so wanted. But Alastor was still watching, the sight of Luci blocked from his view as he enjoyed every little twitch of your mouth, every whimper. 

It wasn’t jealousy, it was something more personal that stung Luci. While he couldn’t actually discern the looks you two gave each other, Luci felt very much the odd man out. But, he considered his position. Literally. He was leaning as far from your body as he could. He remembered the way you said Alastor’s name. Alastor had showed him exactly what to do, albeit in his usual obnoxious, showy fashion.

Sitting up, Luci adjusted your legs and slotted himself between them. Alastor leaned back, relinquishing your focus. Both of you looked at Luci though as one of his hands came to enclose your throat.

Alastor was almost impressed. Almost. You brought both hands to wrap around his wrist, glancing to Alastor behind you.

The words came out of Alastor as half warning, half instruction, “If she needs you to stop, she’ll tap two fingers twice on you, wherever she can reach.” Lucifer nodded, eyes not meeting Alastor’s. He kept them on your face, watching for any sign of distress as he tightened his grip. The way your pussy clenched around him earned you a hiss.

He began to move again, the new position causing him to rub against your clit as he buried himself in you. More clenching; He tightened his grip more. 

“Are you sure she isn’t hurting?” Luci asked, your eyes closed and nails digging into his wrists.

“Nonsense. Can’t you feel her? Or does she just grip me like that?” The cocky expression made Luci unconsciously clench his fist on your neck. A gentle tap tap snapped him back to you. He loosened up again, his eyes large and apologetic.

You tightened your own grip on his dick, grinding up into him for more friction. Your body had finally relaxed, pleasure freely flowing from where you and Luci tangled together. You closed your eyes, the pressure constant on the veins to your head. Blood flow restricted just enough to lower your oxygen levels and raise the nitrogen oxide in your body. It resulted in a dizzying feeling, maybe there was a primal panic that caused your body to feel heightened pleasure. You didn’t feel scared, or in danger. You felt —— ah there it was. You felt weak. You felt docile. You felt like you existed purely to give pleasure and the idea turned you on. In every day life you’d never allow someone to use you, to push you around. You were anything but subservient. That’s why it was so enthralling now. It was so strange a sensation. And to give yourself so fully to the king of hell, the originator of all sin? You groaned, head rolling back. 

Luci watched your head loll, drank in your groans and gasps and felt himself get dizzy too. More. Say his name like you did Alastor’s. Praise how well he fucked you. Reward him. Love him.

He pulled out suddenly, his head leaving you for the first time since it managed to fit in initially. Luci put both hands on your hips and directed you to roll onto your stomach. He pulled your ass up, knees bent. You crawled up enough to rest your forehead on the crook of Alastor’s leg, one lazily outstretched and the other bent under him slightly. Luci wasted no time pushing back in. He leaned over you and pressed his hand into your back, forcing your chest to be slightly crushed into the bed. He pulled out and slammed back into you, tearing a yelp from you as he hit deeper than he had before. 

He stopped, unsure, until he felt your hand reach under yourself and rest at the junction of his knee and calf. His other hand came to your right hip, and he used it to keep you from sliding up the bed. Letting his eyes close again, he focused on the feeling of you around him. His crotch and thighs were soaking wet, his balls tight against him. Every drag out of you made his body jerk back into you with need. It felt so good, too good. He needed more. He pressed hard into you, oversized tip of his cock threatening to push past your cervix. He made shorter thrusts now, ensuring he bottomed out every time. It was too deep, too much of a stretch. Your moans slowly devolved into screams, the pleasure mixed with a soft burning. 

You could feel him spreading open your womb. The feeling of your cunt pressing down on him from all sides including the front was driving him mad.

You were screaming. Actual, pleasured screams, threatening to alert the entire hotel to your activities. Screams that started shrill and dipped into a gutteral cry filled the room with every thrust of Lucifer’s frenzied hips.

A tiny part of your brain felt embarrassed, a dying animal shrieking into Alastor’s thigh.

An ever shrinking part of Lucifer existed too, the piece of him too preoccupied with your two fingers on his leg to enjoy you. It got smaller and smaller, no longer a blockade to his pleasure, but a safety net allowing him to walk the tightrope of sadism.

The radio’s volume dial rolled, smooth jazz now blaring and drowning out your painfully pleasured cries. Alastor was fine with allowing someone to take care of your needs at his permission but strangers had no business enjoying your sounds.

As Luci became lost in the sensation of your wet pussy trying to suck him in whole, his hand on your back began to press down. Your breaths got shorter, it got harder to expand your lungs fully.

Face turned and drooling onto the fabric of Alastor’s pants, you started gasping out his name, “Luci! Nngh Luciiii, Lucifer.”

Your lips dropped his name and it fell like lead into his thoughts. He fought the urge to close his eyes again as he felt his orgasm building. He watched your flushed skin jump beneath every punishing thrust, his name a spell you could now barely whisper, not enough breathe to scream. Your upper body was entirely buried into the mattress. It felt like your back might snap with Luci’s loss of control. You kept your hand on his leg, ever ready to tap out.

The yellow of his eyes turned red, just like the skin of your ass where his hip bones chaffed. “You take me so well, kitten.” He ground out, “Daddy’s gonna cum.”

Alastor’s eyes glowed a blood red from the end of the bed, a wickedly devious grin across his face at the opportunity before him, he looked up at Luci and said with a commanding tone, “Cum.”

Luci was already over that peak when his eyes flew up to catch Alastor’s, it was too late to stop his orgasm. He was helpless to disobey, despite his now desperate desire to never cum again. With a moan, and a hiss, he pressed your body fully into the mattress. Your body now flush, he waited until his cock stopped jerking his long overdue seed into your bruised womb.

Luci lied on top of you even after you were full to the brim with his cum. It was already forcing its way out around his softening cock when he managed to roll off of you and onto his back.

Staring at the canopy of the bed, he felt two emotions rise to the surface. First, concern. He turned to you, and you gave a weak thumbs up.

Second, rage.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you? Fuck you.” He looked to Alastor, who was grinning as he pet your head, whispering something to you. 

“Little late for dirty talk, your highness.”

Lucifer growled, but Alastor’s palm pressed against his forehead and pushed him back down to the bed.

“I sleep on the left. I’d prefer you on the right.” he gently moved your head from his lap, “Beside me, my dear. A darling barrier.” Alastor didn’t look at Lucifer, just slid off the bed and walked into the en-suite bathroom. “No outside clothes under the comforter.” Alastor called from the bathroom before the sound of rushing water poured in.

You rolled onto your back, still catching your breath. Body sprawled out on the massive bed like a starfish.

Lucifer turned onto his side, hand caressing your arm. “Are you okay, kitten? I didn’t mean to lose myself like that.” He felt shame, like he had done something terrible. “And— I didn’t help you finish. That’s pretty shitty.”

But it fell away when you smiled back at him, “I feel great. Sore, but great all the same.” You let your fingers clumsily lace with his. “I really like you, Luci. And I don’t need to cum to enjoy myself. You can always try again, ya know?”

Lucifer felt his face grow warm, but couldn’t press you to clarify what exactly that meant before Alastor scooped you up and carried you to the bath.

There was a moment where he was alone, noticing the radio was back to a tolerable volume, the water splashing softly out of view. He felt out of place, like he had accidentally walked into a stranger’s home. He wasn’t sure what to do next, where to go from there when Alastor’s head popped back into the room, annoyed, “Are you coming or not? Those are clean sheets.”

༻Masterlist༺

[mindmelter]

Alone At The Frat House

Nelson woke up with a pounding headache, the kind that only an intense night of partying could deliver. He squinted as the sunlight invaded the room, hurting his sensitive eyes. He was trying to piece together the events of the previous night.

Nelson was never the party type; in fact, he was quite the opposite—a shy nerd who always avoided social interactions whenever possible and hated going to parties. Now, he parties almost every day with the most popular and hottest fratboys at Alpha Sigma Kappa, something Nelson never dreamed was possible. The previous night was just another one of their private parties. A party that only the frat members and Nelson could enjoy.

But now the house was eerily quiet; the only sound were of the birds outside and the sound of the window curtains. This was odd because since Nelson helped that alien crew take over the bodies of the entire frat house, he would always wake up with loud moaning in the next rooms.

Nelson glanced at the clock: 10 AM. The house should've been buzzing with life, with hungover frat boys messing around with each other, but it was like everyone was still sleeping. Maybe they just had too much to drink last night? Nelson thought.

Lying on Nelson's side was the frat president, Preston— or what was left of him.

His body was limp, his handsome features slack as he stared unblinking. He was still wearing the same underwear from the day prior.

Preston was a rich, arrogant jock with a body built to turn heads and a smile that could melt anyone. As frat president, he had a commanding and authoritative personality, the type that made everyone fall in line.

Preston was the kind of guy everyone wanted to know—or be. Charismatic and effortlessly cool, he was a magnet at every party, surrounded by friends and admirers who hung on his every word. He had a natural way of making people feel seen but was selective, reserving his attention for those he deemed worthy. His girlfriend, Jenna, was as striking as he was, perfectly matching his energy and status. Together, they were campus royalty—the couple everyone talked about, envied, and secretly wanted to be.

Last night at the party, Preston had been one of the most popular vessels; his alien occupant was none other than the captain of the crew, meaning he was the alien in charge of their secret operation on Earth. Taking over the frat president suited him well.

Later that night, all the frat boys were in nothing but their underwear, dancing and getting intimate with one another. Some were getting fucked, others were getting blowjobs, or making out.

Nelson was just sitting and enjoying the show when Preston walked over with a grin and pulled him into his room upstairs. Once in Preston's room, he got on the bed and offered his ass for Nelson to fuck. Nelson spent the night pounding the frat president until they passed out, hugging each other.

But now, Preston lay empty and frozen like a mannequin.

Nelson sat up on the bed. “Captain?” he whispered, gently nudging Preston's shoulder. No response. Nelson then noticed something slick and sticky inside Preston's left ear. He put his finger inside and pulled out a slimy string of alien residue that connected his finger to Preston's ear. Nelson knew what that meant: the alien had crawled out of Preston and left his body empty. The takeover process required the alien to hollow out the vessel's brain, so without an alien inside, the frat boys were nothing but empty muscles.

Nelson looked under the bed for the captain's small spaceship—each frat member had one hidden beneath their beds—but he found nothing under Preston's. That would explain why the window was left open, he thought.

Nelson sighed, his thoughts soon drifting toward his own vulnerable and exposed body. This was the first time he had Preston all to himself, empty. He buried his face in Preston's hairy armpit and took a deep sniff, the faint scent of dried cum and sweat from the night before still lingering. Nelson began to harden as he remembered how Preston had been before being converted into a vessel. He was such an arrogant prick, believing he was god’s gift to women and that everyone else was beneath him. Now, he was just a hot piece of meat, waiting for his brain to be filled again with an extraterrestrial being.

Unable to resist any longer, Nelson pulled his mouth from the frat president's armpit and slid down Preston's underwear. He lifted the jock's muscular legs over his shoulders and pushed inside Preston's tight ass.

Nelson moaned as he began to thrust, unable to shake the thoughts of how much his life had changed in the past months.

Three months ago, Nelson was just another campus nobody—an awkward, lanky nerd who barely registered on anyone's radar. Known for his obsession with aliens and the cosmos, he was often the butt of jokes, the “weird guy” who spent more time hunched over his computer or scanning the night skies than engaging with anyone. His classmates avoided him, especially the frat guys—those sculpted, confident jocks who seemed to own the campus. Nelson could only dream of what it would be like to have their attention, let alone any power over them. It felt impossible, almost laughable.

One night, Nelson was working late on his special school project—a machine designed to receive extraterrestrial signals, scanning the cosmos for signs of intelligent life. It had been routine, uneventful work until that night when his equipment picked up something extraordinary—a signal from deep space. At first, Nelson couldn’t believe what he was seeing, but the message quickly became clear: the aliens were communicating that they wanted to come to Earth but needed human vessels to blend in. They preferred to be in close quarters with one another, a place where their vessels could share the same house. Nelson’s mind began to race, and an idea sparked. He knew the perfect place for them: the frat house on his campus, packed with the hottest, most muscular guys around. Without hesitation, he sent the location of the frat house, fully aware of what awaited those unsuspecting jocks...

Nelson moaned loudly as he finished inside Preston, after a few minutes catching his breath, he pulled out of him, leaving the frat president with his legs frozen in the air and cum leaking from his ass. He stood up from the bed and wandered over to the window, gazing out at the scene below. The pool area was a mess—empty red cups and scattered clothes littered the ground like remnants of a wild night. He watched a lone red cup tumble across the pavement, caught by the breeze, until it finally tipped over and splashed into the pool.

"Where is everyone?" He asked himself.

He stepped out of Preston's room; he didn't even bother to put underwear on; he was used to walking naked in the frathouse, no one in the frat could even care anymore. The hallway was lined with doors, each leading to a room where a fratboy slept.

Nelson went to the next room and opened the door. Inside, he found Marcos, the football team's heartthrob, sleeping on his stomach, his athletic back exposed while wearing only a grey underwear, giving Nelson a perfect view of his muscular ass, built after years running on the field.

Nelson had fucked that ass last night too, actually, everyone at the frat did.

Nelson had come up with a spicy version of the game 'spin the bottle'. When he told the aliens about the game, they all loved it.

So they covered Marcos' body in a slick layer of oil. Then they guided him to lie on his back in the middle of the floor, his ass raised, inviting and exposed to everyone. The frat boys settled into a circle around him, their cocks throbbing in excitement.

Nelson took the lead, giving Marcos a spin, the oil allowing him to glide smoothly. As Marcos twirled, all the jocks looked in anticipation, when he finally stopped, his ass pointed directly at one eager frat boy, while his head aimed at another. The group of jocks all cheered and the designated pair exchanged mischievous grins, ready to take a piece of Marcos.

While one stuffed his ass, another stuffed his mouth, and so the game went on for many hours, with Marcos being spit roasted by all the fratboys.

Nelson stepped closer to the bed and gave Marcos' firm ass a gentle slap, watching the jock's ass bounce. "Wakey wakey sleepy head," Nelson called out.

No response.

Nelson sighed and then pulled down Marcos' grey underwear, exposing the jock's muscular ass; Nelson spread Marcos' cheeks and inserted a finger inside, feeling how loose he was from last night's party, he chuckled. "You slut," Nelson murmured, his cock growing harder. He couldn't resist the urge to give that ass more slaps, still, there was no response from Marcos.

Leaning closer to Marcos' head, Nelson noticed the same alien residue that he had seen in Preston's ear and there was also no spaceship under the bed. The alien inside Marcos had left too. Nelson grunted, frustrated, he gave Marcos' ass one last slap, this time more in frustration than for fun.

The next was Jayden's room. The muscular asian jock was sitting motionless on the floor.

Jayden was on the soccer team, which gave him an athletic and muscular body.

Nelson casually walked over to Jayden, grabbed both his ankles and lifted them to his face, making Jayden fall to the floor. Nelson then buried his face in Jayden's soles, inhaling deeply on the jock's feet. He felt his cock twitch as he remembered the time when he could only watch Jayden from afar at the soccer field; now, he could inspect every inch of his body and smell him up close as much as he wanted.

As Nelson licked Jayden's soles, he was not surprised to also noticed the same slimy alien residue in his ear, confirming that Jayden's alien had left him too.

Nelson gave Jayden's feet a quick passionate worship and then went to inspect the next rooms, some of the rooms were empty, meaning some of the fratboys were still downstairs.

In one of the rooms he found the Maddox Twins—Alex and Aiden. They were both popular wrestlers around campus and one of Nelson's favorites, he couldn't help but raise Aiden's arm, making him flex.

Nelson lost count of how many times he asked the Maddox's aliens to spit-roast him on that same bed. He also loved asking the twins to fuck each other for his amusement. The two aliens in control of them were more than glad to give Nelson the most incestuous and hot show possible.

Before the frat takeover, Nelson used to watch them from a distance, secretly wondering about the finer details, like if they were truly identical in every way. His mind often wandered, lingering on the thought of whether they shared the same cock size—a question that had seemed as unattainable as the twins themselves. But now, things have changed. With the twins under the aliens' control, Nelson finally knew the answer to that forbidden curiosity; Both of them had identical 7'9 Inches cocks.

After seeing the two brothers were as empty as the others, he walked out of their room and went downstairs to the living room, where he was greeted by the sight of the remaining of the frat house members scattered on the couches and the floor, all of them with the same telltale sign of an abandoned vessel - the alien residue leaking out of their ears.

The frat house was a total wreck—empty beer cans scattered everywhere, and the faint, unmistakable smell of sweat and cum filled the place. It was all the proof Nelson needed of last night’s chaos. He’d had the time of his life, feeling like a king as he took his pick of the hottest guys on campus, using them like they were his own personal playthings.

It was at that moment he realized he had the entire frat house to himself, filled with hot, ripped, empty vessels waiting to be enjoyed.

It wasn't the first time the aliens had left their vessels to go on intergalactic missions. But most of the time, only one or five would go, however, it had never occurred that all of them went on a mission together like this time. Whatever their mission was, it must have been very important for them to leave like that, Nelson thought.

He carefully stepped over the limp bodies and walked towards Miguel, who was lying on the couch, frozen while still holding his phone. Miguel was a homophobic douchbag before being converted into a vessel and he was notorious on campus for cheating on all his girlfriends.

Miguel's socks had a strong musky smell that hit Nelson's nostrils as soon as he walked closer. But this was not a bad thing for Nelson, he liked when the vessels were smelly and unwashed. The aliens didn't care that much about their vessel's hygiene; at one point, they were smelling so strong that Nelson had to convince them to shower their vessels at least once a week, to which they agreed, but only if Nelson did the washing.

Nelson hopped on the couch and grabbed Miguel's legs by both his ankles; he then pressed the socked feet together and buried his face between them, taking a deep and long sniff. After having his fun with Miguel's socked feet, Nelson sat on Miguel's lap, with his ass pressed against his bulge.

He grabbed the phone from Miguel's frozen hands, but was annoyed to find the phone screen was locked and required facial recognition. That, of course, was not a problem for Nelson, as all he had to do was place the phone in front of Miguel's blank face, unlocking the screen.

After doing so, Nelson saw an open message thread, it looked like the alien was texting one of Miguel's side chicks when the alien left his brain. They were having quite a spicy conversation, he even sent her some dick pics. Nelson saw that his last message was sent at 2 AM, giving Nelson the exact time of when the aliens left for their mission, which was four hours after Nelson fell asleep with Preston.

Nelson sighed and caressed Miguel's hard pecs, even pinched his nipples a little. He chuckled as he watched Miguel's blank face, he put his thumb on Miguel's shin and opened his mouth, leaving it agape, he then pulled his tongue out and moved his eyeballs to stare in different directions. Nelson couldn't help but laugh at how dumb Miguel was looking.

Just for fun, he took a photo of Miguel's face and sent it to his date. "I'm a dumb brainless puppet" he wrote.

"I think It's time to give life to you guys, don't you agree?" Nelson asked, gently patting Miguel's face and hopping out of the couch.

In the first month that Nelson started living at the frat with the aliens, the Captain taught him about the missions the aliens would have to go through and the procedure Nelson would have to follow when that happened.

Nelson went to the kitchen and took a heavy suitcase out of the fridge, he put the suitcase on the balcony and opened it. Inside, there were 24 tiny vials filled with a transparent slime.

Nelson took one vial and walked back to the living room. He sighed as he looked at all the frat boys spread all over the floor, he wasn't willing to do the procedure on all of them one by one, it would take forever. So he had an idea, he went to Miguel, opened the vial near his ear and watched as the transparent slime slid inside Miguel's ear, doing what it was programmed to do: To fill the missing part of their brains.

Miguel's body suddenly went rigid and started to convulse on the couch. After a few seconds, Miguel slowly stood up with a frown. He noticed Nelson standing near him, and then he looked at his frat brothers lying on the floor behind him.

"Damn, what a party it was last night huh?" Miguel said in a good mood as he stretched his strong arms.

The slimes inside the vials are synthetic organisms made by the aliens for the sole purpose of occupying their human vessels when they aren't inside them. The slime will have access to all the vessel's memories and will act like they were before being turned into vessels.

In other words, the slimes are a tool used to put empty vessels on autopilot mode. And now it was up to Nelson to make sure they were activated.

Nelson grabbed the suitcase in the kitchen and walked back to the living room. Miguel looked at him and chuckled.

"Where are you going with this suitcase dude? Are you moving back to the closet?" Miguel joked.

"Gosh, you're a jerk even on autopilot. I want you to implant the slime on all the vessels for me," Nelson commanded, but before handing the suitcase, he took one vial. He smiled at Miguel and patted his chest. "You can let Preston for me."

"Yes Captain," Miguel said, walking to his empty frat brothers on the floor, ready to fill their empty heads with slime, just like him.

Stepping back inside Preston's room, Nelson gazed over Preston's hot body, still lying on the bed just as he had left him after their morning fuck.

Nelson then opened the vial and poured the slime into Preston's ear. The frat president Immediately started convulsing, just like Miguel did, until suddenly Preston gained life.

His once empty unblinking eyes were now finally blinking again, though, if you looked closer you would still notice the emptiness in them.

Preston looked at Nelson for a few seconds, as if trying to make sense of what the nerdy gay boy on campus was doing in his room. He then suddenly groaned and his face contorted in a painful expression. "Fuck... my ass is hurting!"

"Sorry about that," Nelson said, but of course he didn't mean that.

Preston's face was shocked when he realized what Nelson's meant.

"You fucked me while I was empty?" He asked, more confused than mad.

"Of course I did, how could I resist such a sexy jock like you? You aren't mad at me, are you?"

It was the first time Nelson had Preston on autopilot, so he had no idea of what reaction Preston would have. He knew the slimes were programmed not to hurt him in any way, but still, he was a little apprehensive.

The real Preston would have been furious, he would have beaten Nelson down to a pulp, but the real Preston was gone at the moment the alien crawled inside his brain and hollowed it.

However, the synthetic slime was still able to mimic Preston's prior straight dominating personality. So Preston—in a sudden move—pinned Nelson against the wall, gently enough not to hurt him.

"How dare you fuck me, you little fag? I'm the frat president and no one fucks me! Turn around! I will show you how to give a guy a proper sore ass!" Preston grunted his voice was authoritative.

Nelson smirked and obeyed, turning his ass towards Preston's 8'5 Inches throbbing shaft. He felt Preston's tip pressing against his entrance, and he moaned against the wall when Preston pushed in.

"That's it, moan for me you bitch! Not so tough now that I have my brain filled again, are you?" Preston moaned against Nelson's ear, shoving his shaft all the way inside with a powerful thrust, making Nelson see stars, and not the ones he likes to see.

Preston then carefully lifted Nelson in his arms while still impaling him and walked them to the bed, where he lay Nelson on all fours and resumed his powerful thrusting.

Preston grabbed Nelson's head on both sides and planted a passionate tongue kiss on him. His strong tongue invaded Nelson's mouth as his rips worked non-stop, his massive cock being pushed all the way in and then half the way out. He gave a long deep moan against Nelson's mouth and came inside him, Nelson came together as he had his face buried in the mattress.

Once Preston finished, he pulled off him and lay on his side, with Nelson resting his head on his muscular chest.

Nelson was still recovering from the intense fucking he just received when he started hearing the sounds of conversation and laughter growing from downstairs, a good sign that the vessels were being awakened by Miguel.

The house now contained the sounds of a living frat house, the sounds that only a house full of hot, young and straight men could make when put to live together.

Nelson was hugging Preston's muscular body as he gently caressed Preston's chest, he looked into his empty blue eyes and smiled. "We should get downstairs for breakfast," he suggested.

"Of course Captain, let's go. I'm starving!"

________________________________________

It's been two months since the aliens left for the mission, and there was still no sign of the aliens coming back.

The synthetic slimes were doing an amazing job at puppeteering the jocks; no one suspected a thing. They all still dated their girlfriends, visited their family members, and attended classes normally.

But Nelson was starting to worry that the aliens had left him alone with the empty vessels. Not that it was a bad fate for Nelson—he enjoyed having full control of the frat guys. But he missed the aliens. He’d gotten close to them during their few months together, and without them, something felt lonely; none of the frat boys were sentient beings anymore.

They might sound and act real, but Nelson knew that talking with them was as effective as talking with a fridge.

It was a random Friday night at Alpha Sigma Kappa, and everything was pretty much going as usual. Nelson lounged on the couch in the living room, naked as always, legs spread wide, his throbbing cock proudly on full display. He had one arm around Preston, who sat beside him, equally naked and hard.

Around the two of them, frat members filled the living room, tangled together in different kinds of action, sounds of moaning and skin slapping filling the house. Some jocks were making out, others worshipping each other’s muscles, or fucking passionately.

Nelson's gaze drifted to Jayden—the hot Asian soccer player—he was pounding Marcos—the star of the football team—on the next couch. Marcos might have been bigger than Jayden, but Nelson always preferred seeing Marcos bottoming because of his big muscular ass.

Marcos was moaning like a depraved slut, his moans were the loudest of all the frat members, and that was starting to bother Nelson, so he decided to do something about it.

"Jayden, Marcos is being too loud, could you please take care of him?" Nelson asked.

"Yes, Captain!" Jayden moaned breathlessly, his voice filled with pleasure. Without slowing down, he gave Marcos a sharp smack, each thrust making Marcos moan louder. "Quiet, you loud big slut, you're making our Captain very upset." With a wicked grin, Jayden snatched up his discarded underwear from the floor, the fabric well-worn and musky from weeks of wear, and pushed it firmly into Marcos' mouth, muffling his cries.

Nelson chuckled as he watched Marcos' face, he looked like he was about to explode for holding his moans.

Opposite Nelson, Miguel lay sprawled out on one of the couches, his muscular body stretched out like a prize on display. Once the campus’s biggest homophobic jerk, Miguel had been notorious for cheating on his girlfriends and running his mouth about guys like Nelson. Now, he was lying frozen with his hands behind his head as he was being worshiped by five of his own straight friends. A couple of the guys were focused on his torso, eagerly running their hands over his chest and abs, worshiping the pecs that Miguel had spent so long building up. One guy was kissing along Miguel’s thick pecs and nipples, while another licked his hairy armpits. One muscular hunk with a buzzcut was riding his big 9'3 Inches cock, while the other two were worshiping Miguel's big manly feet like it was made of candy.

Miguel lay there completely relaxed, hands behind his head as he enjoyed his body being worshiped by his equally homophobic friends.

The sight was nothing more than breathtaking, Nelson couldn't help but feel proud of his work, he felt like an artist, and the jocks were the tools.

Nelson then looked down at the Maddox twins on the floor in front of him. They were eagerly wrestling each other naked, each showing off their skills, they were both dripping sweat after almost an hour of wrestling each other non-stop at Nelson's command. Nelson finally snapped his fingers, making the brothers stop mid-act: Alex was pinning Aiden down, with his cock pressed against his ass.

“Alright boys, that’s enough. Come over here and worship our cocks.”

“Yes, Captain!” they replied in unison, each taking a spot between Nelson and Preston’s legs. Aiden took Nelson’s cock into his mouth, and Alex went for Preston's, both twins working on the shafts with the same dumb, obedient smiles.

Nelson leaned back relaxed, glancing over at Preston, who had that cute, desperate expression he loved seeing whenever Preston got close to cumming. But Nelson was the only one who could decide when anyone here could cum. With a grin, he guided Preston’s face towards his, pulling him in for a deep, sloppy kiss.

Breaking it, he commanded Alex to stop sucking Preston and share his cock with his brother. Alex didn’t hesitate. Nelson moaned as the twins eagerly worshiped his shaft together, their tongues working in unison like two robots in synch, their tongues would often touch each other. Leaning over Preston, Nelson wrapped his mouth around Preston's tip, slowly teasing the slit with his tongue. Preston moaned louder, his muscles tensing, fingers digging into the couch as he teetered on the edge, desperate to finish.

"UUURRRGGHH fuuuuckkkk... please Captain, let me cum! I'm begging you!" Preston cried.

Just as Nelson was about to command everyone to release, something strange happened—the living room suddenly went completely quiet. Looking up, he saw Preston was frozen, his mouth open mid-moan. The twins were also frozen, each with a tongue on his shaft. Behind them, all the frat members were paused, stuck in the middle of their actions, as if time itself had just stopped.

Nelson was starting to freak out when suddenly everyone stood up at once, moving in perfect sync towards the back door, their faces blank, eyes unfocused. Nelson even tried calling out to Preston, but he didn’t respond. No one did. They all marched outside to the pool area, Nelson followed behind confused.

Out by the pool, each guy took a place along the edge, their bare bodies only lit by the moonlit night. The night was freezing, and Nelson shivered with cold, wondering what they were doing. They definitely weren't going to take a swim in this cold water, Nelson thought.

Then, they all looked up.

Nelson did too, and his eyes grew bright as there in the sky were twenty-four tiny blue lights, getting closer and brighter by the second.

The tiny lights turned out to be spaceships of the size of miniatures, each jock raised their hands together towards the sky, allowing the spaceships to land on their hands.

Nelson broke into a grin, feeling relieved—his little friends were finally back.

[clare-875]

OMG, I SUUPPERRR Love the "New Names" Prompt, it was actually what led me to your blog here, the last 3 parts were a blast to read, so I was wondering if you could maybe do a part 4 that includes Kidd, King, Katakuri, and maybe 2 or 3 characters of your choice?

New Names pt.4 (Kid, Katakuri, Smoker)

_____ Pairings: Kidd x Reader; Katakuri x Reader; Smoker x Reader Summary: His reaction when you call him pal, buddy, etc. Warnings: Mostly Fluff, Female Reader A/N: I'm so sorry I haven't watched One Piece up to where King is introduced so I added Smoker instead (I couldn't think of any other characters)! I'm so glad you like the series! [One Piece Masterlist] [Part 1: Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Ace, Law] [Part 2: Shanks, Sabo, Crocodile] [Part 3: Corazon, Killer, Mihawk, Penguin] _____

- Kid -

(A/N: Suggestive towards the end?)

When you decide to play a small prank on your boyfriend it is only later that you find out the consequences you should've regarded beforehand. But in the moment you were too giddy to care. You had finally thought of something not too bad that Kid would kick you off the ship but noticeable enough for him to react. So, when your eyes spotted your boyfriend's signature red hair and permanent frown, you had to struggle to keep the grin from spreading on your face.

You just had to see it through until the end.

He had sauntered in as always, eyes sharp and broad shoulders slouching, his gaze darting to you so subtly you'd have to be an expert to witness it. You are in an open space - the deck of the ship - and so he barely gives you any sign of intimacy but he always prefers to linger by your side. He seems irritated as you had not been beside him for long today, and you soon find out your thoughts are right by his prompt words.

"Babe," his voice is deep in the air but gritted against his teeth. "Here you are, I fucking searched the whole ship for you."

You fight to roll your eyes at his impatience but you concede to the plan you have set out for yourself and reply.

"Sorry buddy, I should've let you know earlier I'd be on deck."

And all of a sudden, you could hear a pin drop.

Promptly, it's like the ocean waves that crash against the ship go silent along with the restless wind in the sails. Your crewmember's voices hush to nothing as they eye you and your Captain, unsure of whether to laugh or cry at your words. All they know is that you are fortunate to be his girlfriend because partner or not, Kid would likely throw anyone off the ship if they called him buddy.

His expression does nothing to hide just that fact.

He had frozen still, his eyes had sharpened deadlier than usual, fists clenched to his side and face darkening. You can see the twitch of his eyebrows and the tensity of his form but are most surprised to see a slight pink hue on his cheeks. Was that embarrassment?

Despite the "dangerous" atmosphere, you have to fight back a laugh.

"Are you alright, buddy?"

Your crew members gape at you, some shaking their heads to try and stop your words. But you are bold. Of course you were, you were dating Eustass Kid.

"What the fuck did you just call me?"

Kid approaches you but then he bears witness to your lips quirking upwards into a sly grin. You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly as you lean back into the chair you sat in, but unbeknownst to you it is then that your boyfriend’s mind clicks.

"Bu-ddy," you reply in a sing-song voice.

The crew are shocked at their Captain's restraint, especially when they see him look like he's ready to murder someone. The funny thing is that he looked like he was ready to kill anyone who wasn't you.

They all collectively take a step back.

However, their shock only amplifies ten-fold when all the pent-up tension fades as Kid's lips turn upwards into a taunting smirk. Killer has to stop himself from putting a hand to his head at everyone’s absurd reactions.

"Now princess, it seems you've forgotten who's actually in charge here."

Your eyes widen in your own surprise at the sudden change in his demeanour. Kid looks at you with his same sharp eyes but his wide smirk shines almost scarily as he approaches you closer. “You think you can get away with pranking your Captain? Cause I don’t think you fucking can babe.” He pulls you to your feet before hoisting you up on his shoulder.

"Hey- okay, I'm sorry! I’m sorry! Kid! Babe, put me down!"

But Kid does not heed your words and instead walks away from the still-gaping crew, intent on having you in his chambers until it is only his name that slips your lips.

- Katakuri -

When you are left alone with your thoughts, you oftentimes come up with ideas that usually incorporate your boyfriend. And today, you found yourself quite alone. You were bored and waiting for Katakuri to come back to you after being sent on a mission to God-knows-where. Luckily, a thought had popped into your mind quite easily and it had intrigued you to see what your boyfriend's reaction would be.

Speaking of which, you could hear heavy footsteps making their way to your door, and sure enough, your stoic boyfriend had knocked, patiently waiting for you to answer. You grin happily despite your plan as you missed him though he has been gone only a few hours. "Coming!" You instantly stand and open your door, smile only brightening at the sight of Katakuri safe and at home. You see his eyes soften as he looks at you.

"Hello love," His words are gentle to you, and you hesitate for only a moment before complying with your plan.

"Hey man, I missed you!"

In a rare moment, you see Katakuri's eyes shine with complete confusion. It is followed by the furrow of his brows as though he thought it was not you speaking to him, but someone else. The expression only lingers for a moment though, and then he looks at you with his usual, serious stare.

"Love..."

You freeze when he looks at you so knowingly, so quickly.

"Y-Yeah man?"

Katakuri sighs before leaning down to your eye level, patience in the depths of his reserved eyes.

"Is this another one of your tricks where I am to be surprised by your words or actions?"

You stop in surprise at how he has figured you out so easily, only now realising he must’ve gotten used to your impromptu pranks when left to your thoughts. You stutter before sighing heavily and rolling your eyes.

"Yes love, it is. You could’ve played along though!”

Your boyfriend looks at you with the same softness in his eyes as he witnesses your pouting face.

“Apologies love,” his words are muttered gently by your ear. He then removes the scarf that covers the lower half of his face, and suddenly he kisses your cheek softly. “I just rather terms of endearment from your lips, rather than man.”

You freeze at his actions and words and all of a sudden it is you who is taken aback as heat rushes to your face. As Katakuri steps past you into your chambers you feel yourself so lost in thought that for a moment, you completely forget about your failed prank. That is until your boyfriend calls for you again.

- Smoker -

Your boyfriend is often preoccupied and busy with the tasks that come with being a high-ranking officer of the Marines. You know the challenges and toils of being one, as you are one yourself. However, that doesn't disregard the fact that you miss him sometimes, as your roles often put distance between the two of you. Today was no different but Smoker would be returning to you soon after a shorter mission than usual, and unbeknownst to him you had come up with a small prank in the short time you were apart.

Your eyes move forward to the sight of a Marine ship approaching port and you fight to contain your grin. Sure enough, you can hear the rowdiness of Smoker's crew and the shouts of Tashigi as they go to dock the ship. When they finally do, they race to solid ground, most of them grinning and others saluting you as they pass. "Hello Vice-Admiral [y/n]!" You simply smile as you await your boyfriend and sure enough, he comes off the ship to you soon after, a nod of acknowledgement as he approaches your side.

"Hello love," he murmurs to you lowly and only so you can hear. You smile at the subtle way his eyes soften slightly, knowing he has missed you too.

"Hey dude, how was your mission?"

As you walk toward headquarters, suddenly you find that Smoker has frozen and his footsteps faltered. You stop and turn to him in mock confusion.

"What's wrong?"

He eyes you carefully as smoke bellows from the cigar in his mouth.

"Dude-?"

He quickly interrupts, the furrow of his brows and twitching of his lips showing you that he has of course noticed and was troubled.

"Who are you talking to right now?" Smoker grumbles to you, still static where he stands. You decide to approach him then, and tilt your head to the side, playing dumb.

"You?"

Smoker grits his teeth, the cigar in his mouth almost snapping in half. He leans down to you, so you see the way his eyes have sharpened.

"I'm sorry love, but I don't answer to dude. I thought you of all people would know that."

Your words stumble at his sudden proximity and you feel the heat wanting to rush to your face.

"I- I don't know what-"

Smoker lifts his hand and flicks your forehead lightly watching in amusement as you stare at him dumbfounded.

"Don't do that again."

He then continues walking but silently waits for you to fall into step beside him once more. He had missed you too much to hear such a platonic term slip your lips. He smiles subtly when you catch up to him once more, a kissable pout to your lips.

[fanaticsnail]

Why are you giving me this, Wire?

Hey Doc Masterlist here

Word Count: 880+

Synopsis: Wire hands you a small, cyllindrical object that has your curiosity peaked. It is not until he begins eating until you realise exactly what it is he's given you.

Warnings: surgical talk, mention of a food allergy, exhausted Doctor, grumpy doctor. gn!reader x platonic!Wire, undressing crewmates, medical administration, swearing.

Notes: This is brought to you by one of Australia's greatest comedy trios. The link is available here for Aunty Donna's skit. I was meant to be doing chores, but my hand slipped and now there's some more Kid-Pirate Doctor fic crack.

Tag List: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @sinning-23

“Hey Doc?” A smooth, warm baritone purred down at you from your position lining up for food in the mess hall, “I've got something for you.” 

Curiosity plagued your mind, prompting you to turn and view the taller member of the Kid-Pirates who loomed over your body with his great height. In his larger hand, he held out a small, cylindrical object and passed it to you without a further word. 

With brows furrowed, you turned the lengthy object in your hands and read the scrolled print on the exterior of the smooth surface. A small, blue cap was protruding from the end, a coiled blade hidden in the orange end of the barrel. Leaning closer, you sounded out the title aloud. 

“Epinephrine?” you quizzed him, looking up at Wire and darting your eyes around his posture, “Why are you giving me this, Wire?” His eyes moved from the tube to your face with a soft, playful smirk pulling at his cheeks. 

Looking down to Wire's ceramic plate, you noticed his amassment of crustaceans piled in a whopping heap in the center of the dish. Pursing your lips, your tone held a deep warning in your chastising words. 

“Wire,” you narrowed your eyes, looking to his plate and back to his mischievous gaze, “Are you allergic to shellfish?” His eyes twinkled, plucking a skewer with freshly charred shrimp and scallops dressed in chili butter and herbs. 

“Wire,” you tilted your head to the side, “Don't do it.” Your dark, hummed warning only seemed to spur him to draw it closer to his lips. 

“I swear, Wire,” you stepped closer, prompting him to retract his proximity and turn away from you, “If you're anaphylactic, I swear to the great sea-beasts, Wire.” His smirk widened, and his playful eyes never left yours. His mouth opened, his tongue darted out and flickered over the tantalizing skewer Killer had dotingly prepared for the crew. 

Placing your own plate down beside you, you attempted to jump to collect the shellfish from his hands a moment too late. His lips opened further, the shrimp and scallops passing into his lips and having him crunch on the juicy shell and swallow it whole. 

Humming in satisfaction at the flavor, he opened his mouth and began heartily shoving in crab flesh, lobster tail, pipis in curry broth, and fresh oysters with lime. 

“Oh, for fucks sake, Wire!” you growled at him, slamming your unoccupied fist on the cafeteria railing and reading the instructions on how to administer the epinephrine with the greatest success. 

“Remove blue safety cap without damaging the cartridge-... Fuck, Wire!” you began hastily reading, watching your crewmates face beginning to swell and turn purple. He was smiling and wincing all the way, swallowing another juicy scoop of lobster tail down his rapidly closing throat. 

“Swing and push orange tip against outer thigh with force and wait until you hear the click-... Wire, stop eating!” You roared, tugging off the blue cap and removing his belt to get better access to the muscle of his thigh. There was no way you could penetrate the thick leather pants with the small blade hidden within the barrel, prompting your rage to ignite further as you undressed your crewmate. 

“Hold for at least three seconds-. -Wire, put down the king-crab leg!” You managed to usher Killer in to aid you in your plight, who managed to pry away the delectable assortment of crustaceans on Wire’s plate and toss it to Kid. Your captain was not hiding his smile in the slightest, laughing as Wire threw him a swift ‘thumbs up’ and a rapidly swelling smile. 

Finally punching the epinephrine barrel into Wire’s bare thigh, he breathed in a heaping lungful of air and began to pant as his throat reopened. The swelling of his face went down after thirty seconds, the soft tears gathering in his eyes from the lack of oxygen did not take away your fury at him for making you puncture his skin as a balm for his stupidity. 

“Wire, what the fuck?” your barked growl prompted a laugh to rise from within the mess hall, the loudest was your captain's amongst them. “Happy with yourself?” Wire joined his crew with another hefty laugh, looking to Killer and clapping his hand over his shoulder. 

“Worth it,” he nodded in satisfaction before looking down into your eyes. He pinched your chin between his index finger and thumb, scrunching up his nose and teasing you with his gratitude, “Thanks, Doc. You're a lifesaver.”

You tugged your face away from his grip and turned back to your discarded meal. Huffing out an exasperated puff of breath, you shook your shoulders and returned back to reassembling your evening meal with your lips grimaced in agitation. As you sat down beside Killer at the table, you took a bite of the dish and immediately felt the tension and agitation leave you instantaneously. 

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned, bringing your palm up to your lips and chewed on the mouthful of shellfish. Sparing a glance at Wire, you hollowed your hand after swallowing and called over to him, “You were right, Wire. It is worth it.” 

Killer smirked beneath his mask, giving your shoulder a firm squeeze in thanks for your praise before he stood to begin tidying up the mess left behind by the crew.

[johnwickb1tsch]

rager.

a donaka mark x reader x john wick disaster. 6475 words. warnings: the usual sex and violence, not necessarily in that order...

-Once upon a time, Donaka Mark might have loved you. Or at least, the closest thing to love a narcissist like him can manage. It was mostly lust, you suppose, and the novelty of discovering the unexplored corners of someone new. It didn’t take long for that to turn into possession, and the first time he let the mask slip, revealing the dark beast within, you knew you’d made a grievous error, putting yourself in this man’s hands. 

He had no intention of ever letting you go. 

-He liked to control every aspect of your day. What you ate. What you wore. Who you talked to. Where you went. How you exercised. How you fucked.

What had started as the most exhilarating carnal adventure of your life had devolved into degradation and fear. 

You wanted to go home. The first time you told him this, he’d laughed in your face. 

-He started bringing you to watch the matches in his underground fighting ring. To scare you, mostly, but maybe also to enforce what you already knew: Donaka Mark was not a man to be trifled with. 

You’d been terrified, the first time you watched him snap a man’s neck for refusing to play out his demands for a live action Mortal Kombat show. After the fourth or fifth time…you just felt numb. It was later, that it scared you, when his massive hands cradled the globe of your head, and you knew he could break you like a twig. There was something about the almost clinical way he looked at you in those moments, and you were sure that deep down, a part of him wanted to. 

-You are in the middle of one of your frequent spats, boarding a yacht that belongs to a Russian arms dealer, a friend of Donaka’s who greatly enjoys the illicit entertainment your paramour puts on offer. “Do you always have to be such a whore?” 

You’d dared to take the hand offered you by one of the crew manning the speedboat that would ferry you out to the yacht moored in international waters. There had been a swell, and you were teetering on the four inch Red Bottoms Donaka had selected for you, and you absolutely would have fallen into the dark South China sea if the young man hadn’t caught you. Donaka was making it into something entirely fabricated by his own jealousy–lately, his favorite game, and he would punish you accordingly for his own amusement. 

At the end of your rope, you foolishly snap back, “If I was a whore I’d be having a lot more fun than this.” 

The fire in his eyes is like the fallout of an atom bomb. “You think so? That can be arranged, sweetheart.” 

The blood in your veins turns to ice as once again, you realize your quick temper and fat mouth has pushed him too far. You try not to think about how once, it had felt like he meant it when he used that endearment for you, and how afraid you are for what he has in mind now. 

-Credit where credit is due: no one throws a rager like the Russian Mob. The music is loud, the vodka flows like water, and there is dancing like this is their last night on earth. You make your way through the press of the crowd on his arm, Donaka glad handing like the charming snake he is, so very at home amongst these members of the Brotherhood, their wives, their girlfriends, and their whores. Once upon a time you would have been oblivious to it; but now, you sense the danger in the air like a coming storm. Some of the fighters in Donaka’s enterprise have this heaviness about them. A feeling that at any given moment, anything could go down. It makes your hair stand on end, and you can’t stop yourself from gripping Donaka’s arm harder. Once, he would have comforted you, patted your hand, paid you a reassuring smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Now the glance he throws you is cold and dark and treacherous as the deepest ocean trench. 

Your heart sinks like a stone. 

-You enter a lounge off the main deck that is filled with couches, tables, a bar, and so many Russians. They are dressed to the nines in suits that undoubtedly cost more than an economy car, but the scars and tattoos on their skin tell you exactly who they are. There are women too, beautiful, scantily clad ones, draped across laps and posted behind chairs rubbing shoulders. The men are talking boisterously, one of them telling a story and the others laughing uproariously. One of them pantomimes aiming a gun, and the spray of blood. It wins shouts of approval, raucous triumphant laughter, and more vodka poured. 

-You notice that out of this entire brigata only one man sits quietly, a silent shadow who barely smiles, nodding his head but making no sound. He is heart wrenchingly handsome, in an all black suit and tie, and when he turns his gaze to you it is as though something shifts inside you; like his midnight dark eyes can see directly into your soul. You’ve seen him before, in the crowd at Donaka’s fights, a dark tower standing behind his otets like a guard dog ready to do what he must. You’re certain he’s a killer, even though you never spoke to him, never got this close to him–even then it was like a physical thread pulled your attention from across the crowded room. You simply could not look away. 

-You only manage to tear your eyes away now when Donaka starts speaking to one of the older men seated in the crowd, shaking his hand. “Viggo Mikailovich, your friends throw the best parties.”

“We do what we can, Mr. Mark.” Viggo’s eyes turn to you, assessing you up and down with his heavy gaze while asking, “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Very much. I brought a little present for your boys.”

He pushes you firmly into the middle of the circle of the boisterously drunk men, and finally you realize what he intends as your punishment tonight. Eyes wide, you whirl to look at him, to beg him, but he’s already walking away on those long legs, smirking at you over his shoulder. 

Bastard. Fucking bastard!

You don’t speak Russian, but you hear the excitement in the male voices behind you, around you, you feel the catcalls and dirty innuendos, the threat in their playful tones like oil upon your skin. You start to shake, with fear or rage, you do not know. 

-You take a step as though to chase after Donaka, but an iron grip closes around your wrist. Startled, you look down to see the man in black with the soulful eyes has wrapped his–admittedly huge–hand around you. Caught in his gaze like a mouse hypnotized by a cobra, you stare down with fearful fascination. Please let me go?

The words die on your tongue. Somehow, you know they will do you no good. 

You notice that the suggestive comments silenced the minute this man put a hand on you. 

Who is he? 

One of the men makes a plaintive statement, which the man in black answers succinctly, but with a resolve like stone. No one dares challenge him. You feel them fall back, like wolves retreating into the shadows of the trees. You look down at him, and you can hear your heartbeat thundering in your ears. You’d be a fucking fool to think he’s rescued you–but he’s not like the others. That much is clear. He holds your gaze as he kisses your knuckles without a word, and you feel your knees turn to jelly, your treacherous cunt fluttering in answer. 

-He pulls you down–not unkindly, but leaving no room for argument. You find yourself slowly foldied into his lap, perched on his long legs, tucked into the warm curve of his solid torso. You know you have a screwloose, but something in the lizard part of your brain purrs, despite the bad situation you know you’re in. The lace hem of your little Dolce and Gabbana black dress has ridden up your thigh. You are flabbergasted as he smoothes it back down with a light-fingered touch. “Better?” he asks, his big hand on your knee, and you don't know why you’re surprised he speaks English. You are surprised he seems to give a damn about your comfort. “Yes. Thank you,” you say softly. 

-You are practically nose to nose with this man. It’s been a long time since you were this close to a man who wasn't Donaka, the intoxicatingly warm spice of his cologne filling your nostrils. It gives the illusion of intimacy in the loud and crowded room. His answering smile is ever so slight–a barely detectable tick of the corner of his mouth. 

He doesn't say anything else, turning his attention back to the revelers in his group, though his fingertips draw light, maddening lines across your bare shoulder, down your arm. You shudder, and his gaze slides back to you again. Embarrassed, you try to cover, “What are they saying?”

A long sigh escapes him, all the weight of the world in that slow expulsion of air. “You don't want to know.”

You get the feeling that this man is as tired of this world as you are, and for some crazy reason, you almost feel safe in his arms. 

-You could melt into a puddle, when after a little while he turns back to you, catching your lips so gently with his that your toes curl inside your pumps. It’s like a breath of spring, like something that died in you comes back to life. There’s a slow-burning fire in his eyes, and he stands with you in his arms, setting you on your feet. “Come with me,” he says, and hand in hand you go to the bar, get a drink, and go deeper into the bowels of the boat. His friends bellow and tease him, as the two of you go. He waves them off with a little smile, answering with that brand of manly banter that translates across all languages, something in Russian to you that sounds like “Shut up, assholes.”

-You wander the crowded boat until you find a [relatively] quiet place at the stern. You lean on the gunwale together, shoulder to shoulder, watching the dark waves below as you nurse your drinks. 

“So…what’s your name?” you ask, starting with the basics. 

“John.”

You lift your eyebrows. “John?”

“It’s easier than Jardani.”

You look up at him, suddenly wondering how many parts of himself he's had to hide, to survive in his world. 

“I can handle Jardani,” you say, and he smiles a little, but you feel like maybe you're the butt of the joke. 

“What about you, pretty girl?”

“Y/n.”

He nods, peering down at you like he can mine all your secrets with a look. 

“Y/n, you do not seem to belong here,” he ventures. 

“I don’t think…any of the women do,” you answer. You know they’re sex workers, doing what they have to do, or what they’ve been forced to do–and you know you’re no better than any of them.

“You know what I mean. Where are you from?”

You tell him, and he nods like he already knew. 

“And what did you do, before?”

“I…worked in an art gallery.” This makes him smile a little, inexplicably wistful.

“And how did Donaka Mark get his claws into you?” 

“I was visiting a friend from school in Hong Kong. I met Donaka at this insanely lavish party thrown by her parents’ friends at their house on The Peak. I’d never known anyone like him, who actually talked to me like I was a person. He…was charming, and I guess…I was dazzled by it all.”

You feel like you’re making a confession to this man you do not know, but once you start you can’t stop. 

“He invited me over to see his art collection, and I never really left.  He asked me to stay, so I did. It was…the stupidest mistake I’ve ever made in my life, I found out.” You hate it, that tears start rolling from your eyes. It hurts to look back on the beginning, on your earnest hopes. You’d fallen in love with a foolishly open heart, blind to the red flags that you realize now were there all along. “He was good to me at first but it was just a trap. He…won’t let me leave.  He won't let me see my friend, or any of her contacts. He has my passport, and he won’t let me even go near my embassy.”

You feel so fucking ridiculous, but this man just nods. Not judging you. As though he understands the way men like Donaka chew people up and spit them out all too well. 

-You hug yourself, goose pimples erupting down your skin. “Are you cold?” You nod, because it’s partly true. There’s a chill that runs deeper than your skin, something physical warmth can’t touch. He motions to take off his jacket for you, but you suddenly feel bold, maybe from the drink you’d consumed, or maybe…because he seems kind. You slowly step in to snuggle into his body, sliding your arms under his jacket. He closes his eyes, enjoying it as much as you as you tuck under his chin. He strokes your hair, and eventually it's you who turns your face up, hoping for another kiss. He looks down at you with those soulful dark eyes, and its as though every cell in your body quivers with anticipation before he ducks his head, and his soft lips touch yours. It's gentle at first, but then it grows into this heady, hungry thing–you pull back with a gasp, looking up at him with your big, woodland creature eyes. Here you are again, in the arms of something that could eat you in one bite–and you want to be devoured. 

If you ever make it home…you should get your head examined. 

It doesn’t stop you from asking breathily, “Do you want…to go somewhere?” 

He takes your meaning perfectly well, that intense gaze upon you. “Are you sure?”

You nod without hesitance, and he closes his eyes, presses his forehead to yours as though you’ve just told him something that could save his life. He knows he should refuse. You are just a pretty, soft little thing that doesn’t belong in this world. He shouldn’t even be allowed to look at you, much less touch you. But he can’t say no. You’re in his arms–and he can’t say no. 

He is not a good man. He knows this very well. 

He takes your hand, and leads you back to the hall, then to a stairwell, where you go down into the boat. It takes you a few tries, before you find a stateroom where you can be alone. Once inside he locks the door behind you, before pressing you into the wall with a devouring kiss that makes you see stars. That gentle man from before is not gone, but he is hungry, and you are all too happy to offer yourself up like a feast for him to devour. 

“I've wanted you…since the moment I saw you,” he admits. “On that asshole’s arm, across the room at the fight…I knew you weren't happy with him.”

You make a sound that is dangerously close to a sob. 

“I wanted you too,” you admit, and the fury of his answering kiss steals your breath away. 

Clothes are shed, buckles and buttons undone–his solid weight presses you down into the bed while you are only wearing your panties, and his skin against yours is a divine thing. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers against your chest, kissing your neck, your collarbone, and you could weep because it’s been a long time since you’ve heard that with any sort of tenderness in it. 

“So are you,” you answer truthfully, your hands running down the ladder of his ribs, the taut muscles of his back and torso, past the perfect dimples at the small of his back and into the loosened waistband of his trousers. The firm curve of his buttocks feel like they were sculpted by God himself, or at least Michelangelo, which is close enough.

You spread your legs for him, inviting him in, and he rolls his hips against you. You want him inside you, but he is kissing down your body with something else in mind, his tongue teasing the taut peaks of you nipples. 

“Can I taste you, pretty girl?” he asks, already pulling your panties down your thighs. 

“Oh god,” you answer, which isn't really a negative or an affirmation. But he keeps going, and the sound you make as his tongue dips into your folds is barely human. You feel him chuckle against you, a deep rumble that resonates inside you, vibrating against your clit and you almost cum on that alone.

“John…Jardani,” you sigh as he drives you towards heaven with his tongue, teasing you with slow circles before lapping hard at your bud, a finger slipped just barely inside you. It’s so wonderful you could die. 

Maybe you will, if Donaka finds out that not only did you sleep with someone else, but you enjoyed the hell out of it too. It seems his little punishment backfired, for now, but in the end he’ll make you pay somehow. He always does. 

“You're going…to make me cum,” you warn him. He makes a sound inside your wet pussy that sounds like ‘Good.’

“But I want…to cum with you inside me.”

This gets his attention, this beautiful man looking up the line of your naked body at you with a sharp hunger in his midnight dark eyes. 

“Are you sure?”

He presses a wet kiss to your singing clit, and you're not sure of anything.

“Yes,” you manage shakily, and he wipes his mouth on the sheets, standing to shed the rest of his clothes. You are mesmerized, watching the precise way he moves. You're grateful, when he produces a condom from his pocket, tearing the foil and rolling it on his impressive manhood. “Thank you.”

He just nods, occupied looking down at you with an intensity that nearly makes you squirm, positioning himself between your legs. His tip at your weeping entrance is a revelation; his thick length pressing inside you the best thing you’ve felt…ever, maybe. A few thrusts and he is seated completely inside you, buried to the hilt. You are incapable of keeping your eyes open, your head tilted back in bliss. But he does not move, and you feel him looking down at you, his arm around your shoulders holding you close. “John?” 

He kisses you so gently it breaks your heart, his nose brushing yours. “I’m here. Are you?” 

You don’t understand exactly, why fat tears roll down from the corners of your eyes. 

“I don’t think…you belong here either,” you say. He seems…too kind, and you find it hard to reconcile that with the man who commands such fear in his crew that no one dares challenge him even while full to the gills with distilled liquid courage. 

“I never had a choice,” he tells you quietly, and you believe that, nodding as you hide in the bed of his neck. Maybe this is a strange conversation to have, while a man is inside you, but everything feels too raw, too vivid, and your sanity teeters on a knife’s edge. You kiss his neck, breathing him in. If you’re going to die soon…at least you got to have this. Something real, and good, in the most unexpected place. 

Life is so strange and cruel and sometimes–it’s wonderful. 

“Please…don’t stop?” 

He kisses you again, passionately, desperately, and you sense that maybe he’s close to breaking too. He groans in your mouth as he starts to move inside you, slow thrusts that allow you to savor every inch of him, his delicious girth stretching you wide. You shift your legs up, the angle tightening your hole for him, winning you a growl that sends a thrill from your spine to your aching center. His thrusts become faster, more erratic, and you think he might cum just like this. You find you crave the triumph of it, wanting to give him something to remember you by. “So fucking good for me, malyshka,” he rasps, withdrawing to guide you into turning over. His hands are so sure, so exacting as he arranges you how he wants, your ass in the air and your face in the pillows. Your pussy flutters and pulses, missing him, hungry to be filled again. You melt as you feel his kisses down your spine, and the slow pressure of him pushing inside you again. Just when you think it can’t get any better, strong, blunt fingers strum at your slippery clit, and your focus of the world narrows to wanting one thing. 

“You going to cum on my big cock for me, sweetheart?” 

You whine in answer, yearning, clenching around him. He shudders, thrusting deeper, making you jump. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” 

You realize you would give this man anything, for making love to you, when for so long you’ve only felt like a thing to be used. It might be this thought, as much as his masterful manipulations and his perfect member, that fills you up with pleasure until you break, a spine-cracking orgasm ripping through you. You feel him arch back, riding you through the furious fluttering of your walls squeezing him, greedy to be filled. Soon after he cums with a shuddering groan, his big hands on your hips, fingertips digging into your tender flesh hard enough to bruise. 

He collapses over you, his dead weight and searing warmth enveloping you a wonderful thing, even if you can’t breathe. He whispers something softly in Russian into your hair, sweeping it back to kiss your neck, sending a luscious shudder down your spine. Slowly as though his strength is sapped he moves to the side, tossing the condom and drawing you into his arms. The small smile he pays you, the gentle kiss he offers, and the sadness in his dark eyes feels like a slow-twisting dagger in your heart, an exquisite pain you simultaneously loathe and savor. 

You know what’s coming next won’t be good, and maybe it makes this small slice of bliss with him all the more glorious. With his big hand on the back of your head he tucks you into his shoulder and the two of you doze, tangled up for just a few minutes longer in paradise together. 

-A little later he wakes you, sweeping the hair from your eyes and kissing you softly. “We have to go back,” he tells you regretfully, and you nod, knowing you can’t hide here all night. The two of you dress slowly, in no hurry to return to the hedonistic revelry above. But you suspect he has a job to do, and you…can’t escape your keeper this easily. He helps you with your dress, though his strong hands on your curves through the silk just lights the fire within you all over again. You sit back to watch him with a fascination that borders on obscene, entranced by his hands on his buttons, his tie, and the deft way he secures his weapons about his trim waist. He carries a lot of firepower, for being at a party. You suppose threats to his boss can come at any time, at any place. 

-Hand in hand you return topside. The party hasn’t exactly wound down, though everyone is clearly very drunk. You find that Donaka is in the lounge, speaking to Viggo Tarasov again like they are old friends. His sharp gaze takes in the two of you across the room, his eyes narrowing, and within a moment you know that he is pissed. He stands as you approach, your grip on John involuntarily tightening with fear. “Time to go,” says Donaka, in that tone that brooks no argument from his subordinates. 

But when you resignedly try to walk around, John holds you a step behind him.  

“I thought she was a gift?” 

“Just for the evening,” Donaka clarifies, leveling an assessing gaze at the man in black. 

“You should have said. I’m afraid I’ve ruined her for you.” Donaka straightens, a barely banked rage seething in his eyes, all while you press your lips, trying not to laugh out loud for the spite of it. 

Oh shit.

“How unfortunate for her,” Donaka finally answers, eerily calm, next leveling his gaze upon you. You will be the one to pay the price for this embarrassment in front of all these Russian gangsters. “Come on, y/n. Play time’s over.” He holds out his hand for you, and you know if you do not obey him…he will end you. 

But still, John does not let you go by. 

“It’s bad manners, giving a gift to take it back.” 

“I’m sorry you misunderstood.” 

“I’ve heard you think you’re a warrior,” John says cooly, his words so matter of fact. “So, let’s fight for her.” 

Everyone in the room goes silent, all eyes on the three of you. 

“You…don’t want to do that, Mr. Mark,” says Viggo, shifting in his chair uneasily. He says something low in Russian to John, that you assume translates to ‘Give him his bitch back.’

But you know that was the worst thing to say to the man who keeps you like a toy. Donaka Mark prides himself as a fighter. He’s not a bragging man, but he does not like the thought that he can be beat, by anyone. 

“We can fight,” says Donaka, looking John up and down. “But I’ll warn you, I don’t spar for points.”

A low murmur runs through the crowd at this challenge. Unruffled, John nods. “Me neither.” 

You think about the dastardly things you’ve witnessed Donaka do over the past year, and you squeeze your lover’s hand, afraid. “John…” you whisper urgently. “I know he looks civilized, but…he’s a killer.” 

John simply nods, answering at a volume meant only for you, “We’re all killers here, milaya.” 

Maybe you suspected it was true, but you’re still afraid, if for anything just because this man has become precious to you, and that feels like a promise from the universe to hurt him somehow. 

-It takes place on the main deck on the front of the yacht. Everyone gathers around, eager to see what will happen, though you can’t help but notice several of the Russians seem uncharacteristically solemn. The combatants remove their suit jackets, their ties, and roll up the sleeves of their made-to-measure shirts. It’s to be a hand to hand affair, man to man, no weapons. John leaves you with Tarasov, as though he deemed the older man a safe place for you. “You must have left quite an impression, for John Wick to fight for you,” says the mafiya king. 

“I…didn’t ask him to,” you answer for some reason. And for some reason, this makes the older man snort with amusement.   

-The fury of their combat is a spectacle to behold. They are evenly matched in height and weight. At first it seems like Donaka might have the upper hand, landing a few blows, but that is quickly assuaged as the kicks and punches really start to fly. You watch as the gentle man who held you so tenderly is transformed into a finely-honed fighting machine; it is both terrible and fascinating . You dig your nails into your palm as you watch, hard enough to draw blood without even realizing, you are so transfixed. 

Wick twists Mark up like a pretzel in a complicated move, and maybe would have succeeded in breaking his neck had Donaka not bit him savagely. They go at it again, and when there is a flash of metal you realize Donaka has pulled a knife. You gasp at this betrayal; some of the Russians laugh, and some boo. Donaka slashes at Wick, who succeeds in jumping out of the way, a hair’s breadth ahead of the blade. Wick catches his arm, strikes his wrist, and the blade drops. They grapple, and head-butt, and Donaka manages to get John on the ground with a takedown move. He punches John, landing horrible, bloody blows. But John manages to get his legs around his opponent, flipping him. He swipes the knife, tries to drive it home, but Donaka holds him at bay. The two men hover in violent stasis, snarling at each other with bloody teeth. In a sudden burst of strength Wick strikes the knife, forcing it into Donaka’s chest, and then his throat. 

You watch with horror as the man who has tormented you for the past year slowly bleeds out onto the high-polished deck of the yacht, his blood spreading beneath them in an ever-expanding pool. He is defiant to the end, baring his teeth at his killer like a tiger, but even Donaka Mark cannot survive a hole in his heart. 

You look upon them, dumbfounded, feeling as though John Wick has slayed a dragon for you.   

-Wearily, your hero gets to his feet, accepting a towel to wipe his face and hands before fastidiously unrolling his sleeves and buttoning his cuffs again. Only then does he turn to you, a cut bisecting his brow, his nose bloodied, his lip split. “Are you alright?” he asks, and it’s all you can do not to faint dead onto the floor. 

-Wrapped up in a fluffy robe, you look out over the bird’s eye view of Victoria Harbor glittering like a blanket of aquamarines in the morning sun. Anxiously, you await John Wick’s return. 

The past twelve hours have been a blur. The few security men who had accompanied Donaka surrendered and made no trouble, only wanting to leave with their lives once their meal-ticket was gone. John had bundled you off back to Hong Kong island via one of the speedboat tenders, and promptly checked the two of you into a hotel room in a lavish establishment in the Central district called The Continental. They knew him by name, did not blink at the state of his face, and immediately offered to send up a doctor and a bottle of Blanton’s finest bourbon. 

You took a long hot bath together, and by your count, made love three and a half times before he left “To arrange some things.” (The half was on you–the body was willing, but the flesh weak). You feel like you've been living in a fever dream, high on a mixture of relief and disbelief.

You realize, with the benefit of hindsight, that you really had thought you were going to die. 

-When finally he returns it's as though a tight knot releases in your heart. You greet him with kisses and a long embrace. He may be a seasoned killer, this man relishes being held. It's yet another thing that endears you to this man; it makes you want to never let him go. “It’s all settled,” he tells you. “I got you an open ticket. You can go home once you get your new passport from your embassy. You can stay here as long as it takes to get that taken care of.”

This news should make you ecstatic.

Instead, you stare up at him open-mouthed, gripping his arms with fingers like claws. 

Finally, you remember how to fucking breathe.

“Thank you. I really can’t thank you enough, for everything.”

He smiles ruefully, brushing your hair back from your cheek. “You don't seem happy.”

You close your eyes, because this man sees everything. There's no hiding from him. “I…don’t want to leave you,” you admit point blank, quickly, before you lose your nerve. 

He continues to pet your hair, like soothing an animal that's on the edge of going feral. He reads you like a book. 

“Baby…you've been through so much. You need to go home.”

You nod, knowing he's right. But fuck if it doesn't feel like your heart is breaking. You've actually managed to avoid having a proper breakdown so far–postponing the inevitable, you’re sure–but fuck if there aren’t tears in your eyes. “Will I ever see you again?”

You can tell he's amused with you, even if he's sad too. Not unkindly, he says to you, “Has it occurred to you that you have terrible taste in men?” 

You laugh shakily, mostly at yourself. “I don’t know. I feel like I’ve done pretty well for myself lately.” 

He cups your cheeks in his hands, looking down at you like you’re something precious he’ll never see the likes of again. “I want you to promise me you’re going to go home, and fall in love with someone completely boring, and live a good, safe, life. Can you do that for me?” 

You make a face. Not just at the thought of loving someone boring…but loving someone who is not him.  “I will promise you…that I will look after myself with more care, when I get home.” 

He sighs, having to accept it, and he kisses you so sweetly that you understand his heart is breaking too. “Maybe in another life, sweet girl, I could have been the kind of man who deserves a woman like you.”

“You’re not a bad man, John,” you insist. “You’re my hero.”

“Just this once, just for you.”   

You pull him into another embrace, and you realize you are not the only one who is trembling with pent up wishes that life could be different for both of you. 

“Come here,” you say, pulling on his tie. He obeys, allowing you to lead him to a chair. You know he lets you, when you playfully push him down to sit, but you'd be a liar if you pretended you didn't get a thrill out of it anyway. 

“What are you up to, pretty girl?” he asks gently, a warmth in his soft brown eyes, just for you. 

You kiss him lingeringly before sinking to your knees before him, sliding your hands down the length of his muscle-strapped thighs. “I want to thank you,” you say, playing the coquette to mask the fact that your heart is splintering into a thousand pieces as you speak. 

“You don't have to thank me,” he tells you, cupping your cheek in his hand. You lean into his touch, savoring every second you have left with him. 

“Fine, I won’t,” you say cheekily, winning a huff of laughter that feels like a coveted prize. You reach for his belt buckle, and he doesn't stop you. “But I’m still going to suck your dick.” His mouth dances as he tries not to smile– in the end he loses the battle, and then he moans as you free him from his underwear, already hard and proud in your hand. 

“Baby…how am I supposed to let you go?” he rasps as you take him between your lips, swirling the glans with your tongue. You almost forgot how fun sex can be, until John found you. He claimed you,  and then, he set you free. You take him all the way into your throat with gusto, moaning with him as his fingers comb into your hair, gripping lightly as you work him up and down. “Let me have you?” he whimpers. “One last time?”

You withdraw with a pop, your vision unfocused with lust as you look up at this god of a man. You know it’s batshit crazy, but you would stay by his side indefinitely if he would only let you. 

He scoops you into his arms, carries you to the bed, and you make love again while he looks into your eyes. You feel like he's stolen a piece of your soul–you’ll never be the same, and you certainly know you'll carry him with you, in your heart and your memory, for the rest of your life. 

-As the years go by, you honor John Wick’s request in your own way. You do take care of yourself. And, you never really allow yourself to let anyone in again. It's too disappointing, after having known a man like him, and too risky, after having known a man like Donaka Mark.

You've since moved to New York. You work as an art consultant for a large firm, basically telling rich people what to buy for the walls of their multi-million dollar residences. As tiresome as the uber-rich can be, you get to work in a field you love, and draw attention to emerging new artists who deserve it. When you return from your lunch break Tina, the receptionist, tells you that you have a walk-in who requested you specifically waiting in conference room 1. It's not really how things are done at your office, but you know better than to turn your nose up at a prospective client. You set your things down at your desk and go see what awaits you.

He’s standing at the window with his back to you, looking out over Manhattan. Even so…you would know the lines of his body in a smartly tailored suit anywhere. Suddenly, your knees feel like they might go out from under you.

“John?”

Only then does he turn, still so handsome it hurts, his hands in his pockets and his eyes still so filled with warmth for you. “Hello, y/n.”

It takes three tries to find your voice. 

“What are you doing here?”

He looks down for a moment, as though shy about what he has to say. You've literally watched this man kill with his bare hands– what could he possibly feel embarrassed about with you? 

He keeps his deep voice low, as though he's afraid he might spook you. “If I told you I've had a recent change in careers…would you have dinner with me?”

You close your eyes, because it's all you can do not to leap over the hand-crafted conference table. He’s all you've thought about in your free time, since the moment you parted. The memory of this man is imprinted on every cell in your body. Maybe he let you go…but you belong to him.

You realize you've been silent for a long time, when he answers sadly, “But if the answer’s no I completely understand.”

You're at work. You have a reputation to maintain. You have to act like a professional. 

You forget all this, when you cross the room and fling yourself into his arms, answering his question with your mouth on his. 

The rest, as you might guess, Dear Reader, is just history.😉

—-----------------

*otets - the godfather, the big boss  *brigata - brigade, a crime crew in the russian mafiya  *malyshka - babygirl *milaya - darling, honey

I'm pretty sure @sweetwolfcupcake planted the seed for this a while ago when she commented on my Sympathy for the Devil fic "What if John Wick entered the picture?" 🤭 And here we are. You're a genius, dear girl!!😘😘😘

[luna0713hunter]

hi can you do shanks x reader where he gets jealous when he sees the reader and a crewmate get close? with a fluffy ending please 💞

(i've never requested anything before so sorry if it doesnt make sense)

Author's note : hello darling!how are you doing? Happy Halloween!!!! I love this request so much cause I'm a huge sucker for jealousy fics lmao!!! (And ofc my dear! it's totally alright!feel free to drop by again!)

I want your eyes,only on me

Shanks x reader

Warnings : jealous Shanks,swearing,drinking,some thoughts about insecurities,age gap relationship,maybe slightly suggestive?, sprinkle of angst,and ofc,FLUFF and happy ending

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

When the cold liquid slides down Shanks' throat,he wonders if the booze is more bitter or the sight of you.

On normal occasions,or basically on daily basis,the mere sight of you is enough to make his heart swell and a warm smile bloom on his face. But right now,as he watches you laugh and giggle at a joke that the newest member of his crew had just made,the youngest member beside you,he cant help but to wonder if he can drink until he blacks out completely.

Its not the first time he's done that after all.

Shanks downs the last of his drink while throwing his head back,and clenches his teeth from the bitterness that burns his throat,and sets his now empty glass on the table with a loud BANG.

Its honestly a surprise how the glass hadn't shattered yet.

Just as he's about to complain about the lack of whiskey on his table, someone slides right beside him and pours him his comfort drink.

Shanks barely raises his head,already knowing who has come to his rescue.

"planning to black out,Cap?"

"Fuck off, Yasopp."

The red hair pirate's eyebrow twitches when Yasopp lets out his booming laughter. He drinks his entire glass in one go and squeezes his eyes shut.

That was some heavy alcohol. He would surely regret it tomorrow,but for now,its his only salvation.

"what's gotten you in such a good mood,Shanks? I'm actually worried you might overdose if you keep going like that."

Shanks doesnt turn his head away from you,but slides his empty glass toward Yasopp, silently asking for more.

His new member of the crew smiles gently at your giggling form,and offers you a sweet drink while whispering something in your ear.

Shanks feels his single arm shake as he raises the glass to his oddly dry lips and this time,takes a single sip.

He wonders when he's became so weak and soft.

But he always liked you as his only weakness. He loved to be soft for you.

"he's so young. It doesnt help that he's good kid too."

"hold on," Yasopp raises his eyebrow and drinks his own drink;his expression turning confused slightly as he eyes Shanks,you,and then his new crewmate, "are you talking about the new kid?"

"perhaps."

"what about him?"

"dont tell me you havent seen him flirting with y/n all night long. Just look how close they are." He lets out a bitter laugh,and tries to wet his lips with his even more bitter tongue. The taste disgusts him.

"they're almost the same age. I wouldn't be surprised if y/n left for him."

When Yasopp pulls the glass out of his hand,he swears he's ready to raise hell.

"ok, that's enough booze for you."

"are you asking for a fight?you know i can kick your ass,drunk or not."

Yasopp shakes his head and puts the glass far away from his reach. Shanks groans and throws his head back.

"i get that you think he's interested in y/n. But you're obviously way too drunk if you think he has such a power."

"huh?"

"to steal y/n from you,you idiot."

"i swear I'm gonna kick your as-"

"hey,are you overdoing it again?"

And if Shanks still had his glass with him,he would've smashed it on Yasopp's smug face when he heard your voice.

"actually,he is. Would you mind looking after him?"

He groans and throws his arm over his eyes, wondering if he could ask someone to help him get to the ship.

He assumes your answer was positive;since suddenly he can feel your warmth right by his side and a heavy silence falling over the both you.

And when you reach out to brush his bangs out of his face,he turns his head slightly.

"already done with your new friend?"

He watches from the corner of his eyes how your pretty lips pull down,and a small frown settles on your beautiful face.

Gods, he's such an idiot.

But he cant help it. He cant help the bitter and ugly feeling rising in his chest when he sees you talking to someone younger than him. Someone better,more handsome. Someone more close to your age. Someone he's sure you'll be more happy and comfortable with. And he swears he trusts you with all his heart,but he cant blame you if some day you up and left;when one day that actually happens.

He wouldn't stay for him too.

"Shanks, what're you talking about?"

"its nothing," he swallows and he blames it on his alcohol consumed mind, "you should go and have fun. Dont mind me."

And he expects you to do as he says. He expects you to stump away from him;to never look back and finally realizing that you're far more happy without him.

But gods above, he's such a fool.

Instead of hearing you walk away,he feels your warm, gentle hands prying his arm away from his face. With one hand,you caress the back of his rough one,and with the other,you trace his stumbles.

"Babe," your voice is so soft,that it has him swallowing around the lump in his throat, "talk to me,please?"

And how can he ever say no to you?

"i saw...how you enjoyed spending time with the new kid," he clears his throat and closes his eyes when you caress his scarred face, "i dont blame you. No one does. He's a good kid; brilliant, handsome,younger than me-"

"Ok,hold on a sec," you suddenly interrupt him;your voice bewildered as you watch him open his eyes and staring at you questioningly, "you think I'm going to leave you for him, because he's younger than you?"

Shanks blinks.

"yes?"

When you huff,Shanks opens his mouth to defend himself but you beat him to it. You rest the palm of your hands on his cheeks and pull his face closer;making sure to whisper each word against his lips.

"I thought you knew,how much i love our age gap,Cap."

Shanks' eyes draw to your lips,and when you whisper your next words teasingly,he swears he becomes drunk on your breath alone.

"i wouldn't leave you for the world;not even for the One Piece. Never forget that,Daddy."

And at that,Shanks dives for your lips.

The kiss is hungry, unlike any other kiss the two of you had shared in public. Shanks' lips taste like whiskey,a drink you've never liked,but you dont complain about it.

Just having your captain in your arms is more than enough for you.

When the kiss becomes more inappropriate for public eyes,you push slightly at Shanks' chest and giggle when you see him pout.

The red hair captain,one of the most powerful pirates in the seven seas, pouting because you refuse to kiss him more in public.

"babe, we're in public. Save that for when we get to the ship,alright?"

Shanks' groans,and to your surprise, suddenly lays down until his head is in your lap. You thread your fingers through his red locks,and giggle when he nuzzles in you further.

"dont get close to that kid,or I'm throwing him off the ship."

"for your information,he was telling me how much of a great couple you and i make,and that he looks up to you so much."

"..."

You laugh loudly and Shanks' buries his head more in your lap.

"no more word about this. You have to take care of me tomorrow too."

"i always take care of your hangovers,you big baby."

And when you press your lips to his forehead, Shanks seems to finally calm down.

"i love you."

And Shanks know it's a promise you'll never break,not in a billion years.

Not even when you're offered the One Piece on a golden plate.

[freds-one-piece-fics]

Overnight work

Straw hat’s [redacted] (Yandere! Strawhats x reader)

Prologue

Tw: blood, wounds, splinters (pretty descriptive)

A little bonding time with... Zoro???? Lucky you!!!

~~~~~~~~~~

When you joined the straw hats, they expected some hard work on your end. Not because they wanted you to, oh no no no. The reason they came to this conclusion was because of the hard work you put in your old job and how seriously you took it.

They just didn't expect how invested you were in completing tasks...

On your first day living on the ship, you got up and waited on the rest of the crew, figuring that it'd be rude to snoop around on your own. Once the crew did leave their beds, they were surprised, even more so when you asked what duties you have been assigned.

The crew wasn't really sure where to start honestly. They really didn't think that far (Luffy made that decision to bring you on the ship without an actual plan), so they instead asked you to join in on a fun activity that day.

Initially, you were distracted from doing any real work, but you being you... you eventually found some labor.

Usopp, Luffy, and Chopper tried keeping your attention away from such boring tasks, but you couldn't even focus on the game at hand. Not when one of the newly replaced back sail had that nasty hole in it...

That simply wouldn't do.

So off you went, grabbing a spare sail clothe to replace the damaged one.

It took most of the afternoon just replacing it and inspecting any parts of the ship. The more mature members of the crew kept the others (mainly Luffy) from interrupting your work, but even they were bothered by your refusal to accept help.

Sanji even made dinner earlier so he could get you to break your unwavering attention on the sails, which worked fortunately!

That night, dinner was loud and chaotic.

It was a type of chaos that held no genuine malice, even as Sanji threatened to shove his foot up Zoro's hyper-clenched asshole.

You ate your food politely, even letting Luffy snag some food off your plate (much to Sanji's chagrin) while Sanji was distracted by Nami's beauty or Zoro's "I don't give a fuck" attitude.

Over all, the first day was uneventful, even for the Straw hat's standards…

BAM!

"...What the hell?" Zoro hissed in annoyance at first, only for that irritation to be replaced by caution as he heard another sound, this time more quiet then before...

Whoever was up there was trying (and failing) to be quiet.

The other men snored loudly as Zoro snuck out the room with his swords. His senses were on high alert as he poked his head outside, seeing nothing but the deck lacking any other living being.

His attention was directed to above him once he heard soft but heavy feet walking on the wood deck above.

Swords drawn, Zoro leapt onto the anchor deck, ready to tear into who ever dared to sneak onto the Going Merry. His rush of adrenaline only increased tenfold when he spotted a tall figure hidden by the shadows of the moonless night.

The figure turned with a large wood pole on their shoulder, nearly knocking Zoro off the deck. He ducked down just in time before launching himself towards the figure with his blades crossed in front of him. the figure quickly dropped the pole to the side of them and gripped the blades, keeping Zoro from slicing the figure.

He almost couldn't budge from the grip the person had on his swords, but he pulled, and pulled, and pulled, slowly cutting through the hand's delicate palms like thick butter before a pained growl was let out.

Shock, hurt, and confusion displayed itself on your face as you looked back in Zoro's golden brown eyes, who did a double take as well.

"(Y/n)!? What the hell!?" He yelled and backed away with his blades as soon as you released them.

"I'm... sorry?" You said in pure confusion.

"What-What are you doing out here this late!? And why are you swinging a giant pole around!?" He demanded while pointing his sword at you accusingly.

"I'm... finishing what I started yesterday." You said while pointing over to where the hind mast would be, which appeared to be missing.

Well... Not really.

Zoro would realize this when he finally stared at the now familiar looking mast laying on the deck beside them.

"...didn't you fix it though?" Was all he could ask in that moment.

"Only the sail. The repair shop missed the smaller mast apparently. The main one is in perfect condition, but this one wasn't." You said with a small huff.

Zoro slowly sheathed his swords, still giving you a strange look.

"Alright, but... at night?"

"It's better to get it done as soon as possible."

You walked over to grab the pole, only to jolt and pause before grabbing the pole more gently.

"Oi, leave it be." Zoro said while approaching you.

"I have to-"

"Your hands are cut open." Zoro muttered something about you being a dumbass before reaching down and grabbing your hands to look at them.

Your eyebrows were raised in surprise by his sudden touch and closeness, even more so by the fact that he gave a crap.

He clicked his tongue, feeling the blood on your calloused hands but unable to see well on this moonless night.

"...I can't see shit. C'mon." He turned away and walked towards the stairs.

You were hesitant to follow. Sure, you were bleeding and it hurt, but the job wasn't done. You CANNOT have the captain see his own mast laying on the anchor deck.

Unfortunately for you, the swordsman wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Get your ass down here, we need to clean your wounds."

"But Captain Luffy won't be pleased with the mast-"

"I'm his first mate. I have authority, so I say you leave the stupid piece of wood and bandage your hands. You'll get blood all over it anyway." Zoro said in an annoyed tone.

"...yes sir."

Zoro's face scrunched up at that as his face burned a little hot.

"Don't call me that. It's Zoro." He snapped at you half heartedly.

With all being said, Zoro led you to the lounge area, which sat at the back of the ship. While grabbing the railing to walk up the steps, you pulled back and grit your teeth when what felt like a splinter snagged itself into your open flesh.

You go to pull the piece of wood out, only for a voice to snap at you.

"C'mon. Don't mess with your cuts until we get in the lounge." He said, looking back despite not seeing too well in the dark.

You complied, this time not touching the railing as you walked upwards.

As soon as you both entered the lounge, Zoro turned to you and cussed under his breathe after catching sight of your visible hands.

"I cut you pretty damn bad. Stay here."

He left the room quickly, leaving you in an awkward silence as you studied your own hands.

Your rough, scarred hands had new wounds added to them. The cuts were smooth, something that could easily heal, but the depth of the cuts would be a problem you concluded. You eyed the splinter launched in the exposed meat and with care and patience, grabbed the tip of it with your other hand, slowly pulling the intruder out of the pulsing mess of blood and skin.

Despite the obvious pain of removing the splitter, there was this euphoric relief. The wound throbbed and burned, but it became a more comfortable and dull sensation.

The door opened, snatching your attention away from the cuts on your hands. Zoro walked in, glancing at your ands before dropping the kit he had in his hand.

"What the- did you pick at it???"

You stared sheepishly at the moss headed man, who snapped at you once more.

"Dumbass!!!"

Zoro stomped over and grabbed your hands, inspecting the damage before releasing your wrists again.

"We gotta wash it a little." He sighed while brute forcing the kit open. He dug into the kit in search of something before he looked at you with a confuzzled look.

"What the hell are you sitting there for? Wash your hands there, idiot!" He pointed to the sink in exasperation.

"Yes sir."

"Oi! Stop calling me that!"

Zoro wrapped your hands tight in gauze and medical tape, slapping your hands away when you tried to do it yourself.

"Both of your hands are injured. You're in no condition to wrap these yourself." He excused despite you stating that you had worse.

Once he was done, he looked over your hands, subconsciously rubbing a thumb over a long healed scar that was located on the back of your hand.

While you allowed him to inspect your hands, you couldn't help but notice how little focus he was giving the recent injuries given by yours truly.

He grumbled something that you couldn't make out, before he removed his own calloused hands and sat on the other chair he leaned his swords against.

"It's done. Tony can look at it tomorrow..."

You nodded, ready to stand up and leave to finish what you started before Zoro stopped you.

"That means go to bed."

"...I was?" You said as you made a funny face.

The man scoffed at you narrowed his eyes.

"You're a terrible liar. Less convincing than the long nose."

You didn't have time to answer before Zoro pointed to the door with his thumb.

"Go to sleep. We can worry about the hunk of wood in the morning... or afternoon. Seeing that you chose to stay up late." He snarked.

You opened your mouth, about to speak when he stopped you.

"And don't call me what you're about to call me."

"Call you what, sir?"

"...go to fucking bed." Zoro hissed.

'How troublesome' he would think as he watched the (h/c) head towards the room that Sat between Nami's and the boy's quarters.

He didn't think they would cause issues so soon...

And he didn't think he'd give a shit so fast...

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

Sorry for the rough start, fellas. I've lost my touch lmao.

I wanna do a slow burn type of deal where the yanderes slowly turn yandere, some slower/faster than others.

I'm not gonna make it painfully slow, don't worry, it'll maybe at least a few weeks or a month for the characters before they become yanderes.

No hate at all to other fics that do this, but I'd like to think the obsession isn't within the first second they meet. If that's the case, then they may as well randomly grow attached to everyone they meet lol (but that's just me. Just a lil nit pick.)

But anywho, I'll be making the aftermath of this fic.

Goodnight 🌙

[darthannie]

day twenty: mutual masturbation with robert capa

pairing: Robert Capa x f!Reader word count: 719 warnings: making out, masturbation, not reallyyyyyyy canon compliant (I do what I want😎),  a/n: My schedule got all fucked! I will still be finishing out kinktober, there's just a huge chance it will go into November. And that's okay! I really liked this prompt. Robert is just so... Yeah kinktober masterlist

Being aboard the Icarus II had its faults, one of them was being stuck on the craft with Robert Capa. Your quarters were next to his, making it too easy to become friends. The entire crew was close enough, but you and Capa were inseparable. The sexual tension between the two of you was one that was often ignored. Everyone sensed it, but you all had an unspoken agreement, don’t fuck another crew member. 

That’s why it wasn’t an issue you were currently in his quarters, kissing him with the intensity of someone who had not been touched in years. He grabbed your face as he kissed you. You pulled away just enough to whisper “We can’t…” He responded “I know,” hushed and quiet, “but I need to touch you.” He let out a breathy sigh as his hand reached under your shirt, feeling up your right breast as he felt his pants getting tighter. 

You reached underneath his shirt, needing the contact. He took it off and your fingers spread across his chest. He grabbed the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head. 

“Robert, we really can’t,” you said.

“I know, I know,” he sighed, “but we can try something else. No sex. Just touching.” He looked at you expectantly. You nodded slowly, and once you fully understood what he meant you pulled him into a kiss again. He broke away only to strip down as quickly as possible, and you did the same. 

He laid back on the bed and you straddled him. This, in hindsight, was not the best idea. His cock brushed against your clit, causing you to shiver. You tried your luck and bucked your hips to cause some friction. You leaned down to kiss him. His hands landed on your hips, stopping your movements. “Fuck, that’s. That’s too much. Too close,” he whispered. 

You knew he was right. you stayed still, waiting for his next move. “How about you come here next to me?” He gestured to the spot next to him with his head. You got off him and laid in the open space next to him. You watched as he grasped his cock, slick with the wetness that was left on him from you, and stroked. “Fuck, Capa…” Your fingers slid down to your wet hole and brought them back to your clit. He watched with lidded eyes as you rubbed your clit in circles. He used his precum to lube himself up, continuing to slowly stroke himself. 

“Capa, can I touch you?”

“Please,” he said. 

You reached over and wrapped your soft hand around him, making him gasp. The sensation of having someone else touch him was something he had been craving for too long. He reached over and moved your hand away from your pussy, replacing it with his. His hand worked quickly. He felt it was his duty to make you feel as good as he did at that moment. He watched as his fingers sunk into you. You moaned his name and grabbed onto his arm.

“Capa, can I please put you in my mouth?”, you begged.

He choked on its breath, “No. Against the rules.” He kissed you, holding your head so you couldn’t pull away. His hips bucked up as he used your hand as his own personal sex toy. 

You moaned and your back arched as he curled his fingers. You managed to pull away from the kiss. “And this isn’t against the rules?”

“No, this is just giving a friend a helping hand.” 

You felt yourself getting close. He took his fingers out and went back to rubbing your clit. He was struggling to keep quiet and bit his hand to shut himself up. Your breathing was uneven as you came. Somehow, you stayed mostly silent, letting out a quiet moan as you squeezed your eyes shut. You watched as he came on his stomach. He groaned and tried to regulate his breathing, smirking as he looked at you. He pulled you in for a kiss and you straddled him again, wanting to press your body against his. 

He pulled away and you kissed his neck, “Do you think it’s against the rules to do this again?”

You looked at him and smiled “No. I don’t think it is.”

Taglist:

@devotedlyshadowytheorist, @dxnger-dxys, @tommyshelbywhore, @quinnlilias,@madnessandobsession, @mvpr-moon, @nela-cutie, @faebirdie, @charmed-asylum, @anasanthology, @ilikefictionalmen, @akanne-aka, @no-fooking-fighting,@queenofstresss, @flwrs4aust, @mrkdvidal1989, @00hsv, @laylasbunbunny

(If something is up with your tag or you would like to be added, let me know!)

[doomtrooper77]

Meet Gusieppe "Joe Murder" Murderetti. Mob Boss's Mob Boss

It had been a couple of weeks since he had been back to the Dungeon gym. He got his workout in at the gym at work, but this place was made for growing. The Dungeon was mainly a private gym. Most people didn’t know it existed, and those who attended liked it that way. From the outside, it looks like an abandoned warehouse. You might also think so if you just paid attention to the unpainted walls and steel girders above your head. Graffiti on the walls. Look at what the gym contained: a sea of free weights, benches, racks, and machines to lift big. The only cardio was the fighter’s section in the far corner. Full boxing ring, a full-size MMA octagon, mats galore for jujitsu to karate. The other side of the building was for recovery. 3 full Saunas, 3 shower areas, Cold Plunges, 4 huge Japanese heated Soaking tubs, and massage rooms. This place was a lifter's dream. But there were no influencers here. Nobody is setting up their camera for Instagram or TikTok. The place was clean from top to bottom. Members didn’t pay, you had to be invited.

I had decided to bring my college buddy who was in front out of town with me. He was still in pretty good shape even though 10 years later, he spent most of his day behind a desk. I told him I knew a place where we could workout like we used to in college. He didn’t think much of the place until we got inside, and he grinned like a kid in a candy shop. We changed, and I told him no phones were allowed outside the locker room. He objected and said he had a deal he was working on, and he had to stay in touch. I told him it could wait an hour or two. We worked out together for about 30 minutes, and he said he wanted to work arms, and I told him I needed to do some legs. So we split up.

 I had my headphones on and was on my 3rd set in the squat rack. When I noticed everyone in the room was looking at something behind me. I racked the weights and turned to see my buddy in fucking Joe Murder's face. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!

Joe Murderetti, aka Joe Murder, was not a local mob boss; he was THE MOB BOSS. Not the flashy one, he was the Mob Boss the flashy ones were terrified of. He was the one authorities knew had his hands in everything, from drugs to extortion, loan sharking, casinos, financial crimes, and murder for hire. They had come at his 10 different ways, and each time, not only did nothing stick, but people disappeared. Judges, lawyers, prosecutors, politicians, witnesses, and cops. He was called a wizard of the fucking underworld because impossible things happened when he was involved.

Joe Murderetti was also the person who invited me here to this gym. His gym.

My buddy was in good shape for your average guy. He was 6’2 "and 270 lbs. He looked solid and hadn’t lost much of a step since our college days. I was 6’3" and 290 lbs. I was a beast; I had to be when I was on the streets.

Teddy was running his mouth and putting his finger in Joe Murderretti’s face! He was always an arrogant hot head and when he got this way he never paid attention to the world around him. He didn’t see the fucking sea on monsters headed his way. Joe Murder owned this place. Most of the people who came here worked for him—either part of his day-to-day crew or one of 20 others who controlled most of northern Illinois.  At least 15 guys were converging on the two. Not one of them was under 300 pounds. Hell, Joe himself tipped the scales at 340-350.

 I flung my headphones and started trotting over. I got within 10 feet when I felt a big hand clamp on my shoulder and neck. My training and instincts kicked in, and I grabbed the hand and arm holding me and started to judo-throw them over my shoulder. Under normal circumstances, that person would have been slammed to the ground over my shoulder, and my knee would be in their neck. Instead, the big hand holding my shoulder grabbed my wrist, twisted it, and kicked my legs from under me; when we hit the floor, it was my face slammed into the rubber mat, and a massive knee was in the center of my back. Air rushed out of me, but my training kept me attempting to move. I tried to twist, but not only was the weight on my back too much, but the person holding my arm twisted it further and pulled it up toward my head. The pain was excruciating. I was only able to twist my head to the side and yell out, “Mr. Murderetti, Mr. Murderetti!” Another shadow passed over me, and a big, lugged boot sole stepped on my head and neck, pushing me further into the ground. I stopped struggling.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Teddy and Joe Murder looking over at me on the ground. Teddy's eyes got big, and he started moving in my direction, but two more massive guys grabbed him. Teddy's only training was from football when we played in college.  One guy had him wrapped in a chokehold, and the other had slammed his fist into Teddy's gut twice already. Before he could hit him a 3rd time, Joe Murder casually held up his hand, and the chokehold loosened, and the puncher stood at the ready.  Joe Murder was still looking at me.

His dark eyes locked on to me, and he said, “David, what does this have to do with you?” His voice was deep, yet he had the south-side Chicago Italian accent. This was the voice of the mobster on the street. I had heard that voice speak in a boardroom executive tone to north side charity dinner smoothness. Today, it was the voice of the man who owned the streets.

“I’m sorry, Teddy didn’t know who you were. We came in for a quick workout, but I wasn’t paying attention. This is my fault.” I said. Joe Murder made another small gesture, and the two monsters holding me down pulled me to my feet. They did not let me go.  By this time, there were 10 other massive guys surrounding us. All of them looked as if they wanted a piece of us. Everyone else in the gym disappeared.

Joe walked over to where the two men held us and absently said to them, “Let him go.” Both men let me go but didn’t move away. Joe stepped up to me, and an aura of menace surrounded him. Each of the guys on either side of me could have twisted me into a knot. But something about the man standing in front of me made them seem like puppies in comparison to a tiger.

Joe Murder was 2 inches shorter than me, but damn near a foot wider. He made you feel like the closer he got, the more you shrank into yourself. “Your buddy has a loudmouth and seems interested in business that’s not his,” Joe said. Teddy spoke up, “Dave, tell these knuckle draggers to let me go! Tell them you’re a cop, and they just fucked up big time. You’re gonna drag them in and put them under the fucking jail!” The last sentence cut off as Teddy got another shot to the gut. His legs crumpled under him, but the guy held him up.

Joe Murder’s eye twinkled dangerously, and then he said mockingly, “Under the jail! Yeah Dave, tell me how you’re putting us under the jail.”

Over the next week, I will post a member of Joe Murder's crew daily.

[nanato04]

Thought instead of just reblogging everything, i will add some of my own works too <3

P.s. shanks has one arm here

Word count: 7750

You can read it on my Ao3 page:

Or

You’re a fucking tease, you know that?

You were the latest member of the Red Hair pirates. You were quite the feisty one when the captain, Shanks, saw you for the first time. Being from a town where crime and murder was rampant, you grew up to be a very combative person. You met Shanks in a bar. While you were downing beer after beer, a bunch of no-goods came up to you and asked how much you charge for a night. You didn’t really get bothered by them and plainly said you were not in that field of work. But they didn’t seem like the type to listen and they started getting too handsy with you.

Shanks was sitting a few tables away witnessing this, he was blissfully eyeing your body while the bunch of fools came and interrupted. And just when he almost got up to defend you, you already got to beating the shit out of them with whatever came to your hand. You bashed one with a bar stool, broke a bottle on another guy’s face, gonged a man’s head with your head and repeatedly stomped his balls. Later when you were done bashing them you turned back to see a red-haired man and assumed that he was one of them. You threw a punch at him but he blocked it by effortlessly holding your fist with his hand.

“Cool down, tiger,” he said with a smirk.

“Who the fuck are you?,” you snarled while snatching your fist away from his hold.

“I’m Shanks, captain of my pirate crew. Nice to meet you,” he said with a toothy smile.

You then assumed he wasn't a part of that handsy group you just beat down.

“Oh. Well. I didn’t know that, sorry for throwing a punch at you. Now leave me alone,” you went back to your seat and continued drinking.

Shanks laughed loudly and he wanted to pursue you more.

“Hey, you didn’t introduce yourself,” he leaned on the bar counter, coming a little closer to you.

“Why should I?”

“No reason, just curious about you,” he said slyly. And it was kinda working on you.

You weren’t approached like this before, and he seemed like a nice guy. So you thought of entertaining this conversation a little.

“Name’s Y/N. I live here,” you said plainly, you didn’t maintain any eye contact.

“Ooo that’s a pretty name! Say, what do you do for a living?” He questioned. His strong presence made you feel a little intimidated, but you weren’t scared of him.

You gave him a side-eye contemplating whether or not you should tell him more about yourself. You totally ignored his exposed chest and abs from that half-way buttoned white shirt.

“Mmm. I do freelancing. I can fix things like machines and vehicles. Aside from that, I do other odd jobs too. Honestly, I don’t understand what I do for a living,” you said, slapping yourself in your head for talking too much.

He was silent and he listened to you. You got a little uncomfortable with how he just didn’t say anything so you chugged your remaining beer and got up from your seat.

You took a long exhale and said, “Alright, I’ll leave now. Goodluck with whatever endeavor you have going on.”

Just when you started walking out Shanks called you.

“Hey Y/N.”

You looked back to see him facing you.

He gave you a smile and said, “Join my crew!”

Your eyebrows shot up and you put your hand on your hip, intrigued at his proposal.

“Now why should I do that?” You sassed.

“You’re strong, I like ya! Plus I will keep you fed and you will have a warm bed to sleep on,” he candidly said.

You pouted your plump lips, thinking about this offer. He never broke eye-contact with you and there was thick tension between you two. Well, you’d have food to eat and a nice place to sleep. It would also be way more fun than the boring life you have going on in this island.

“I-,”

Yasopp cuts you off and yells from the faraway table, “OUR CAPTAIN REALLY GOT THE HOTS FOR YA WOMAN!” And all of the Red Hair pirates started laughing and hollering.

Shanks was flustered and gritted his teeth, making a mental promise to drown Yasopp later.

You barked out a laugh so big that you were in tears. You said between laughing, ambiguous words slurring out of your mouth, “I guess I’ll take you up on that offer, Captain!”

Shanks too broke out into a laugh, his cheeks had a light tinge of red on them.

“Sweet! Yasopp come here I wanna tell you something,” Shanks called him out sweetly, Yasopp tried fleeing but Benn and Roux held his hands and legs so he couldn’t move. Everyone including you laughed as Shank went towards his table as he cracked his knuckles.

___

Your new pirate-life was a hundred times better than your life in your hometown. You were liked by the entire crew and you enjoyed everyone’s company. You were also the only woman in the red hair crew but that didn’t bother you much since everyone was respectful and nice to you. At times you helped around with cooking and cleaning. You loved playing cards with Roux and Yasopp. Benn was a real good friend to you and he would always take your side when you bantered with your fellow crew members.

The catch here though was, you barely gave any attention to you captain and that always made him envious of his mates who always got your complete attention. Of course, you obeyed his orders and all but, you intentionally liked to tease him by not talking to him.

Shanks loved watching you. Regardless of the petty game you’re playing with him, he loved to observe you to see what all you’re up to. You were always in your black tank top and olive green shorts, exposing your thick and strong thighs. He would sometimes even take his time to count all the stretch marks you have, he has half the mind to graze his hand over your thighs and squeeze them but, he will work his way to there one day.

One day you jumped up to reach something and it made your butt wobble, you refused to take anyone’s help but at the same time you just couldn’t reach the jar you really wanted. Shanks was passing by the kitchen and he saw your struggle, he thought that was a nice chance to get closer to you but before he even made it to you Benn was there to assist you.

“Hey Benn! lift me up,” you asked your friend.

“Hmm? Aight,” he accepted your request and effortlessly lifted you up, his hands squeezing into your waist. You then looked out the kitchen to make eye-contact with your captain. You gave him a smirk and the red-haired man shook his head and huffed. You finally got hold of your jar. He put you down and you thanked him. He patted your upper back and walked away. You leaned on the counter and took a spoon and scooped up the jam in the jar. After witnessing all this Shanks still came inside the kitchen and stood in front of you. You saw him come closer to you so you put the spoon in your mouth, licking the jam off of it.

“What brings you here, cap’n?” you asked as you went for another scoop and just when you were about to put it in your mouth, Shanks grabbed your wrist and twisted the spoon towards his mouth and he ate the jam off, licking the spoon, all while keeping an eye contact with you.

“Just wanted some jam,” he said. He was so close to you that your bust was almost touching his chest. There was impenetrable tension between you too that was broken off by Yasopp yelling your name.

“Y/N!!! I SEE AN ISLAND COME HERE!!!”

“I’M COMING!” you yelled back. Shanks didn’t budge though. Your eyes darted towards his lip that had a speck of jam on the side. You brushed your tongue on his lower lip, Shanks was curiously watching you. You then wiped away that small bit of jam and licked your thumb, intentionally going in deep. He whistled at you as you shoved the jam jar on his chest and he held it. You smirked and walked off, he gladly watched you go. Once you were gone he covered his face with his palm and groaned. You will really be the death of him.

___

The Red Hair pirates had just landed on an island. It was a long journey for everyone. They landed on a very small, sparsely populated island and it was very inviting. All your crewmates had dispersed, some were buying food, some were hitting the nearest bar, some went exploring. While you, on the other hand, had an evil idea.

With whatever pocket money you had, you went to buy yourself something nice to wear. You tried a lot of dresses and then found a real nice dress. It was a black floral printed dress. It had a flowy skirt and was backless too, exposing the big scorpion tattoo you had covering your entire back, the tail of the scorpion ending tight above your intergluteal cleft. You twirled in front of the mirror, the skirt flew high enough just to give a teasing view of your ass. You were beaming with anticipation to do what you were about to do

Sweet.

___

Shanks and his mates were in the beach bar, it was a big open space with a bamboo roof. It was around 7pm and the sun had already set. The entire had a deep yellow glow with all the halogen bulbs at all the corners. When you entered the bar everyone’s jaws almost hit the floor. This was the first time they saw you in a dress, and you were in an enticing one too. You had all sorts of compliments getting showered on you along with whistles coming right at you.

You went to the bar counter and drank a big jug of ale for the liquid courage. Your back was faced towards where Shanks was sitting. The man was whipped. He kept quiet though, he didn’t give you any compliment, maybe this was his own way of playing with you. The captain watched you, how your back flexed as you moved. How your ass was flush against the seat. How short your dress was. Yasopp saw his captain’s attention towards you and he said, “I’m shocked how you still didn't ask her out yet.”

Shanks laughed and shook his head, “I’m loving the chase though.”

The sniper sighed and continued his conversation with Roux who was munching on a lamb leg and eagerly listening to him.

The bar then played a slow, sensual song. This was the perfect chance to fuck with the captain. You got off your seat and walked towards your captain’s table. Just when everyone thought you would approach Shanks, you set your hand on Benn’s shoulder and asked,

“Hey Benn, this is my song, wanna dance with me?”

You could see everyone’s eyes almost pop off their skulls, no one saw this coming. Shanks was fidgeting with Benn’s lighter, spinning it in between his fingers. You were really testing his patience.

Benn set his cigarette down and said, “You sure?”

“Yeah, come on!” you raised your hand, indicating for him to hold it.

He held your hand and got up. When he turned back to look at his mates he just shrugged.

“Can’t miss the chance to dance with a lady.”

You got him closer, and set his hand on your waist. You wrapped one of your hands around his neck and laced your other hand’s finger into his. There was hardly any space between you two and your tits were flush against his chest. Benn didn’t know what was going on but he was enjoying this sexy dance with you already. You slowly swayed with him along the rhythm.

Shanks’ pupils darkened and he leaned back in his seat. His gaze never left you. He wasn’t mad at Benn. Because who would deny a chance to dance with a gorgeous woman like you? But it really should've been him instead of Benn, with you, dancing slowly, maybe even taking it to the bedr-

Your tattooed back was facing Shanks, he could see Benn’s hand placed on your hips, his calloused big palms pressing into your plush skin. You grabbed Benn’s head from behind and brought his head closer to your neck. You then whispered something into his ear to which he reacted with a wide smirk and gave you a nod.

He then shoved your waist closer to his groin and you grinded on him. Both of you had breathtaking chemistry during the entire dance. His hand roamed all over your back, he didn’t touch your ass though. You swayed your wide hips and went lower and lower, your face dangerously close to Benn’s clothed manhood. Under the low-light your sweat sheened skin glowed and the big scorpio tattoo you had was moving like it was your spine. He then got you up and twirled you, your skirt rising high enough for Shanks to see the beauty marks on your upper thighs. Shanks was really at his limit at this point, everyone else was hooting and whistling at you two. You both ended the dance when Benn dipped you really low, holding up one of your thighs. His entire palm held your thigh with such grip that it left a dark imprint.

He then lifted you up as the song ended, both of you were pretty sweaty and you thanked Benn by kissing him on his cheek. He would be lying if he said he didn’t get hard during the whole dance sesh, though he knew you were doing this just to get a rise of Shanks. He wouldn’t mind being your partner in crime again though.

Benn went back to his seat. “You lucky bastard,” Yasopp told him.

“Fuck you man,” Shanks laughed threw Benn lighter on his face. Ofcourse Shanks knew this was just one of your ways to brainfuck him.

When he was searching for you, he found you near the bar stool, all alone.

He got up with an excuse to order more drinks. Shanks stood very close to you and told the bartender his order. You were casually sipping on your cocktail, playfully ignoring him.

“You’ve put on quite the show, huh,” he remarked.

“Benn’s a great dance partner,” you replied.

“Since when do you wear dresses like this?” he said as he eyed your neck, his gaze carefully observing the beginning and the end of your tattoo.

“Why? You don’t like it?” you asked, but before he even answered you got up and slipped a hotel room key card in his shirt pocket. You placed your hand on his bare chest and whispered in his ear, “Give this key to Benn, will ya?” You then bit the tip of his ear, earning a breathy exhale from him.

“Sure,” he said, and you smiled at him and walked away to the hotel.

Shanks went to his table to grab his coat while half of his mates were passed out and some were still drinking.

“I’m heading out,” Shanks said, desperation drenched in his voice. Benn understood the scene and he nodded.

___

It was a cheap motel near the bar. The whole building was made out of wood. When Shanks walked in, he was met by a receptionist who immediately got up and said, “Sir, are you headed towards room 104 by any chance?”

Shanks raised his eyebrow and answered, “Yeah. Why?”

“Uhh, I’m so sorry I’m afraid to say this but you don’t match the description Ms. Y/N gave so you can’t go in,” the poor receptionist mustered the courage to say.

“Hah? What did she say?” Shanks asked with a puzzled expression.

“‘Only allow the man who has long black hair with a big gun with him to come inside. Don’t allow anyone else, especially a tanned man with red hair.’ These were her exact words, sir. Please don’t go or else I'll get beaten up,” said the scared man.

Shanks barked out a laugh and shoved the receptionist’s face out of his way. He ignored all of his cries, amused at your silly games.

He was standing in front of room 104 and went in without knocking. The moment he entered he was shoved to the wall, invited by a sharp blade to his neck. You were dangerously close to his face, he smirked and looked down at you, who wore a bathrobe now.

“You’re not Benn,” you remarked.

“Nope, I’m your captain,” he played along with you.

You shoved your knife more into his neck, even a tiny bit of more pressure would cut into his skin. He hissed in pain but was loving every bit of it.

“Not outside the ship, you’re not. Get the fuck out of my room and tell Benn to come in,” you demanded, so close to him that he could taste your breath.

Shanks then immediately grabbed your wrist and aggressively turned you around, shoving your back on his chest. Your knife was now on your neck. The blade was on the verge of cutting into the delicate skin of your neck. But you took a big gulp and the motion got the blade to slowly and deliciously dig into your skin. You huffed, you couldn’t move an inch with how much force he was holding you.

“You really needed to be reminded that I'm your captain in, and out of the ship, Y/N,” he whispered in your ear.

His bare foot now snaked up your thighs, his heel finding its way to your pussylips, over the bathrobe. You gasped at the sudden touch. The material of the bathrobe was rubbing on your clit.

“I’ve really had enough of your games, Y/N, do you not know how much I want you, can you not feel it?” he said huskily, grinding his erection on your ass at the word ‘feel’.

Shanks didn’t fail to notice how you didn’t get defensive at all, your hands were just holding his hand but not trying to push him away. Instead, you were shamelessly grinding him right back.

Your breath started to grow heavy, but you wanted to push him toward the edge further.

“Yeah? Bet you won’t even last for five minutes, Captain,” you taunted him, the last word laced with seduction.

Shanks let out a demonic laugh and the blade that was on your neck was slowly now drawing drops of blood. His heel which was intensely grinding your pussy, now went to your knee and slid your foot to the side, making you lose your footing and you dropped down along with him. You squealed at the sudden action by your captain. Now you were sitting against your captain, both of your legs were wide spread open and locked in place by Shank’s feet. You couldn’t close your legs even if you wanted to no matter how hard you tried.

“I guess I just have to prove you wrong huh? You can decide if you want Benn over me once I’m done with you, sweetheart,” he purred as his hand snaked towards your pussy, and to his surprise, you were not wearing anything under. Your back arched when his thick digits casually traced your warm, saturated lips.

“Ooo, Benn’s gotchu this wet, huh?” he mocked you and licked his fingers clean. Your head was leaning on his chest, too aroused to even acknowledge what he said, and he was looking down at you with a vulgar smirk.

He then removed your loosely tied bathrobe from your shoulders, exposing your voluptuous tits. He let out a satisfying growl when he groped your breast. Kneading it with just enough pressure for your nipple to harden.

His mouth watered at how deliciously malleable it was. You held his face that was set on your shoulder, caressing it as he hungrily explored the sensation of fondling your tits. You grabbed his hair and pulled him close to your mouth, so close that he could feel your heavy breaths all over his lips.

“Touch me, captain,” you needily said, your hips grinding in need of any form of friction over your pussy. The cold air touching your exposed sex made your desperation for him worse.

Your words fell out of your mouth as sweet as grapes drenched in honey, how would he ever not listen to you?

His feet that were locking your legs in place had spread your legs further, and mild pain ran through the middle of your thighs. You moaned as the stretch was hurting you, but the arousal you got from that was unbearable.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he said, his hand now slithering down to your slit.

Tonight this madman was up to no good.

He collected all your juices to lubricate his hands, and he pressed on to your clit, your body mildly jittered at that and your hips bucked. But you only whimpered because that made your thighs stretch more. He shushed you, and snuggled his face on your neck, kissing and nibbling your salty skin. He continued his teasing by dipping two of his fingers deep in your pussy and removing them before you could even get a hint of pleasure from it. You whimpered from frustration because you were too damn desperate to be touched. You decided to take things into your own hands and you proceeded to rub your clit. His lips got closer to your ear, this time though, his voice carried no playfulness.

“Touch yourself and I will make sure you don’t even cum once,” his tone was so serious that shivers ran down your spine. You were even kind of regretting pushing him so much on the edge.

“Please, Shanks, touch me, I need you,” you begged, dumping whatever shame you had in you, already withdrawing your hand away from your heat. Instead, you held his thigh so tight to calm yourself down that he was sure you would leave marks.

He kissed your ear and hummed, “That’s my girl.”

His calloused fingers finally rubbed your clit at such intensity that he took your breath away. Your head threw back on his shoulder, his eyebrows furrowed as he was dwelling in the scent of you. He then realized that he cut your neck a little with the slight scent of iron. Your captain immediately attacked your neck, sucking the cut out. This was truly driving him crazy. His attack on your clit only became more fierce as he was now rubbing it with three fingers. You hissed in pain. But the pain drove you madder as the pleasure was slowly creeping up on you.

“Shanks! Ahh- I can't- this is too much AAHHN!” you cried and his fingers only sped up, making you grit your teeth as you could feel yourself getting close to your orgasm. Your breaths started getting heavier and faster. You grabbed his hair and pulled him hard, hoping he would slow down. But he growled at the pain, getting more riled up.

“What? Don’t wimp out on me now darling, you gotta last at least more than five minutes,” he taunted.

Heat pooled in your lower back and you could snap any minute now. Your chest now had droplets of sweat and Shank’s stubble was scratching your neck making your head spin.

“I’m so close! Shanks-”, you moaned his name repeatedly, your thighs were shaking, and you tried so much to close your thighs from the pleasure but the more you attempted escaping his iron grip feet, he stretched them out more just as quickly.

“Come for me, my love,” he said with such a sweet tone. Tears were running down your cheeks as you screamed his name. Soon it felt like your whole body was short-circuited and you were washed with an intense pleasure storm. He was letting you ride your orgasm out. The impact was so much that you pushed back hard against his chest but he stayed put. You could feel his hard dick against your back and as you spasmed on him, the friction made him harder.

Once you came down from your high Shanks stopped the abuse on your clit and let your legs go, you hissed in pain. Your thighs were buzzing and you were extremely sensitive. You fell back on his chest, he put his fingers in your mouth and you cleaned them right off, your tongue tasting every bit of your arousal. He then caressed your hair, muttering sweet nothings in your ear.

The captain got up and lifted you with his hand. He laid you down on the bed and he kneeled in front of you, unbuttoning his shirt, taking in your naked form under the dim light. His pupils were blown by how alluring you looked. You looked so ethereal for him. Your chest heaving from the intense orgasm you just endured. Your curvaceous figure just waiting for him to get touched, consumed, manhandled-

Once he got rid of his shirt, he got on top of you, his hand slowly feeling your curves and dips. His smoldering touch on your body made you writhe your hips under him. He held your thigh up with his hand and his face hovered closely over yours.

“So impatient for me, hmm?” he cooed above you. His eyes darted towards the corner of your lips that had some drool on them, a result of his ministrations from earlier. Without thinking any further he licked it up, kissing and tasting the drool on your chin. His lips and tongue then crept towards your lips and he kissed you with raging desperation. Your taste was triggering his suppressed animalistic desires. He groaned and you were moaning into his passionate kiss. He bit your lip hard and when you let out an ‘aah!’ he leveraged the opening and darted his tongue in. You wrapped your plush lips around his tongue and ground your hips on his boner. His clothed dick was throbbing and the more friction it got from your grinding, there was precum collected in his pants.

He slapped your thighs hard and your body jolted.

“Behave yourself, sweetheart,” he said after parting his lips from the nasty kiss he was indulging in.

“FUCK me, captain,” you growled at him and he smiled, loving how you are just as desperate as him.

The captain gave you another deep kiss, and his lips grazed your lower lips as he separated from you. He then kissed your chin, lowering down to your neck. He was peppering your skin with hot and open-mouth kisses, licking you up like you were some sugar candy. His rough hand grabbed your boob and he was kneading it with such fervor that it made your arousal worse. Despite his big palms, he still couldn’t fit your entire breast and it drove him insane. His mouth now on your chest, smelling the sweet sweat around your breasts. The sweet and raw scent of you was more intoxicating than the hard alcohol he drank. He licked and kissed between your tits and he latched his lips on your hardened peak. He sucked on your breast hard and rolled your nipple between his lips. His hand was keeping the other tit busy by stimulating it nice and slow. Your chest rose from the bed, shoving his face deeper in your tit. You whined under him and when you looked at him, he caught on your eye contact and he winked at you. You averted your eyes and hid your face with your hands.

Shanks pinched the nipple that was in his palm and you yelped.

“What? I just wanna see your pretty face,” he said with a smirk after finally removing his mouth from your tit with a ‘pop’ sound. He even slapped your tits and saw them jiggle so beautifully. At this point, he had already lost his mind.

This fucking dog-

“Shanks!” You called him out, gritting your teeth. You were frustrated by his current distraction. You needed to get his dick in you so badly that you came up with something to provoke him.

“Hmm?” He said. He was willing to make you suffer until he drove you to the very edge, even though it means his dick can’t take the restrained torment anymore.

You looked him right in the eyes and said, “Why aren’t you fucking me yet, huh? Can’t get it up?”

Shanks’ mind did a 180 and he’s now dedicated to fuck that sass right out of you. He barked out a devious laugh and his hand came for your throat.

His lips were brushing yours as he said, “Oh you wanna get on my dick so bad huh? Alright, I’ll give you just that,” he said.

He got off the bed and got rid of his pants. When his dick got free from the constricts of the clothing your eyes widened. Your mouth watered at his size. Oh, he was definitely big big. You then spread your legs for him. He saw your seeping pussy and fisted his length a few times. Smirking at how needy you were for him, he quickly got on the bed and settled between your legs. He then grabbed your thigh and flipped you on your stomach. You were knocked out of breath and before you said anything he grabbed your waist and raised your hips high. This way he really got a good look at your back tattoo. It was in its full glory and under the dim room light it looked so fucking sexy on you. He grabbed your butt and squeezed it. Your heart was beating faster with anticipation of what next he’d do. He got down and gave your pussy a kiss from the back. You hummed and he licked your slit, from your clit all the way to your tight asshole. His fat and slick tongue left you mewling. Your taste made him moan and he wanted to go deeper with his tongue but he has a different mission for now.

The captain got up and grabbed his cock and spit on his tip. The precum and spit lubed his dick real nice and he lined it up against your heat. He pressed your clit hard with his tip and was feeling your wet heat.

Your body shivered at the feeling of his cock lingering over your pussy. You were throbbing for him so much that you pushed your hips back in an attempt to get his dick in you. He huffed at your desperate efforts and if it wasn’t for him being dangerously horny right now he’d tease you until you lost your shit. Shanks began by slowly pushing his tip in. He hissed at how tight your cunt was, and you whined at his girth. Inch by inch he slowly entered you, the stretch made you moan and tears stung your eyes. You were panting and tried your best to relax your pussy for him but he was just too fucking big.

Your walls were difficult to enter, yet you were so inviting. The way your pussy contracted his dick it felt like you were trying to suck the soul out of him.

“You’re sucking me in so good babe,” he panted. Once he was completely inside you, he paused for a minute for you to adjust to his size. Meanwhile, his hand was busy kneading your butt and tracing all the stretch marks with his fingers. He felt his dick get drenched with your arousal as you slowly rolled your hips on him, looking back at him, you smirked. He saw your salacious look and responded by pulling out midway and thrusting in hard. You gasped and moaned and your face was buried in the pillow. Your captain filled you up so good you felt your whole body burn bit by bit. His hand was grabbing onto your hip as he pounded into you with need.

Your captain’s eyes wandered towards your vacant ass-hole and he had another nasty idea. He had a lazy smirk on his face as he spread your cheek with his hand and he spat on your puckered hole. Your eyes widened and just when you could say anything, his thumb was rubbing the surface of your tight entrance and he applied just enough pressure to push just past the surface. Slowly twisting the fingertip one way and then the other, over and over.

This new sensation made you whine and push your hips into him more. Shanks was really amused at your reaction to his experimental action.

“Ooo you like this?” he snickered from behind you. “Oh what a dirty girl you are~”

“You’re so fucking nasty- mmmh!” your muffled moans reached his ears. Half of your face was shoved on the pillow and you wiggled your hips indicating him to go faster. He gladly obliged by increasing the speed of his thrusts. At this point he could reach deep inside you, the sounds of smacking hips riled him up wildly. And he just had to make you more flustered by mumbling this, “I wonder what would your Benn feel like when he hears us like this.”

You weren’t taking any of his bullshit as you said, “Yeah? Want me to fuck him too and tell you who’s better?”

Jealousy crawled up his spine the moment you said that, imagining you with him being intimate makes him want to properly claim you as his woman. You cackled when he leaned forward and grabbed your hair.

“Hah! Did my captain get angr- AAAHN,” your mockery was cut off by Shanks as his pace got much more intense than before. He then rolled his hips a certain way, your body shuddered and your breath hitched.

He lifted your face and purred, “Oh? I think I found exactly how to shut you right up baby.”

His vehement backshots felt so fucking lewd and good. His dick was rubbing you on your weak spot constantly and you could feel your orgasm creeping up to you slowly. You grabbed onto the sheets like your life depended on it and moaned his name in fervor.

Shanks felt your pussy tighten around his cock, he saw how he could completely get inside you and as he got out there were strings of your juices and his spit.

At that sight, he didn’t have any intention to stop his jackhammering because he was dedicated to making you feel so good that you wouldn’t fall on anyone else’s dick other than his. He grabbed your neck and lifted you up to his level, pounding you real nice and hard from the back at the same time.

His grip tightened around your neck and his lips got closer to your ear, kissing it, nibbling it. “Touch yourself, sweetheart,” he ordered oh so sweetly. One of your hands was wrapped around his neck and so the other hand went straight to your clit. His constant attack on your g-spot and your work on your clit topped off with his choking was a recipe for a storm that was coming towards you.

He felt your walls spasm around his cock as you finally snapped and you came again, very hard this time. Your loud moans and the wet slaps of his dick in you filled in the room. He groaned at how deliciously you were gripping him. He let you ride out your orgasm by languidly thrusting inside you, he held you by your chest and shushed you as your whole body was jolting.

He kissed your temple as you finally came down from your second high. “You came on my cock so well, my love,” he praised you, making your cheeks burn and avert your eyes.

He then pulled out of you and sat on the bed with his back against the wall. You looked at him, and he patted his thigh, gesturing you to come towards him. You crawled towards him and he was taking in your beautifully obscene form. Your skin was covered with a sheen, the light reflected on you and made you look like a sex demon. Your hair locks fell on the side of your face and your plush lips were apart with drool on the side of your lips. Your juicy tits looked so suckable while bouncing as you were going towards him on your fours.

You spread his thighs slightly apart when you reached him. You took your time admiring his strong and muscular body. Your fingers traced his chest, grazing his nipple, wandering down his abs. You got on top of him, your legs situated on either side of his hips. His hot and throbbing dick was almost reaching your belly button. You were actually shocked that something this big was able to go inside you.

You saw him in the eyes, and naturally, your attention went toward his prominent scar towards his eye. You absentmindedly grazed it with your finger but he immediately grabbed your wrist but didn’t pull it away from your face. He had a serious yet lustful expression on his face. You weren’t intimidated by him though, not even slightly. You found his scar beautiful, every bit of his body features was beautiful to you. You kissed his eye once. Then again. Awaiting any negative reaction from him, but you didn’t get any. His grip on your wrist loosened. You continued kissing him more, on his eye, on his nose, cheek, forehead, and wherever your lips took you. You then kissed him on the lips, your tongue was readily invited by his tongue. You went in for a deep, slow, and passionate kiss with him. You were strumming his heartstrings and he was blissfully letting you do so.

Your other hand held his dick, you were stroking him with your grip mildly right and focused on caressing his tip with your thumb. His breath hitched at that. Your kisses now peppered the side of his mouth, chin, and now his neck. You were sucking the large vein on the side of his neck, attempting to leave a mark on him.

“You’ve been such a tease, y/n,” he remarked with a love-drunk voice. You hummed and replied, “And so have you, my captain,” kissing his collarbone and trailing your tongue on his chest. Your grip on his dick getting stronger, strokes maintaining the same slow pace.

“Is that so?” he mused, looking down at you with a smile.

“Mmhm, you didn’t make a move on me all this time, so I took things into my own hands,” you answered. Your lips latched onto his nipple and sucked it hard. He hissed and his hand held your face, fingers lacing in your hair.

You loved how his nipple instantly hardened and you rolled your tongue on it. He was making low whiney sounds and to get more reaction from him you grazed your teeth on his bud. And you finally earned a moan from him.

He then pulled you up and kissed you harshly. You now lined his dick on your slit and pushed yourself down on him, this time without any struggle. You winced as you were still very sensitive down there, but you could manage it. He groaned into the kiss and you rolled your hips on him, causing him to throw his head back. Your hands were on his chest for support and you were riding him at a leisurely pace. He looked down at you and saw how your boobs jiggled every time you got up and down on him. Your eyebrows were furrowed and your lips were parted. His hand grabbed your ass and kneaded it, encouraging you to keep going on.

“You look so beautiful, y/n,” he crooned. Your heart fluttered at his words and you had the urge to make him feel good. So you tighten your pussy around his dick every time you get down and release the grip once you go up. This felt so sinfully both to you and him, you moaned as you could feel him go so much more deeper inside you. You picked up your pace and rode your man faster.

Shanks could feel the blood rushing to his core and his thighs tightened at the soon-to-arrive orgasm. So he lifted his lips making you fall flush on his chest. You gasped at his sudden movement and he thrusted his dick from below at a brutal pace. He held your hips so tight that you were sure his prints would be there to last.

You wrapped your hands around his neck and gladly took whatever he gave you. His dick was rubbing your sensitive spot with this accessible angle and you felt your face heat up. For some reason, you felt the urge to mark him too. You grabbed his jaw, forcing his mouth to open. You collected a decent amount of spit in your mouth and spit into his. He looked right at you and swallowed it immediately. The sight of him taking in whatever you gave had stirred something animalistic in you. You were just as crazy as him. There was no going back now.

This time your third orgasm seemed to be arriving a lot faster than you thought but you also felt something else coming. You suddenly had the urgency to pee. You patted Shanks’ back and whimpered, “Shanks please let me go, I need to pee!’

He was too immersed in chasing his own pleasure to even bother to let you go.

“It’s alright, let it go, it’s gonna be fine,” he assured you. But you frantically shook your head and kept begging him to let you go. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t excited to have you release all your juices over his cock. Even the thought of that made him hungrily pump you and even snuck his thumb on your clit to get you to your high soon. You wailed and moaned and felt so fucking feverish. You tried to hold it in but this beast would not stop whatsoever. When he felt the newly learned signs of your orgasm on his dick, he smirked and grinded in you.

You truly came hard this time and your eyes rolled back. Both of you felt hot liquid gush out of you and you screamed his name repeatedly like it was a mantra. He groaned at the feeling of you dripping, spasming cunt and it only drove him closer to his release. His hips stuttered and his pace was also faltering. Tears drenched your cheeks as you were extremely sensitive now and he was still going at it. You bit into his neck and pulled his hair hard. After a few more pumps the man under you growled and released thick and hot ropes of cum inside you. You felt so fucking dirty and at the same time, you felt so good. You whimpered and he rubbed your back. You totally didn’t expect him to cum so much. Once he rode out his high he went limp on the bed, his dick was still inside you and you rested your body on top of him. Too sensitive to even move.

Both of your chests were heaving. He brushed your hair away from your forehead and kissed you there. “You did so well,” he praised you. Your head got up from over his chest and you kissed him again, the tiredness was evident in your energy. You then whispered over his lips, “You’re mine.”

He smiled, “I’m yours.”

You hugged him tightly. He hugged you back with his hand wrapped around your lower back.

Both of you stayed like that for what seemed like 15 minutes.

Shanks patted your butt and said, “Let’s get you cleaned now, yeah?”

You nodded and when you got up, you saw his abdomen glistening from the arousal you had released earlier. Shanks' gaze followed yours and he smirked, “That was hot, I wonder if I could make you do that again.”

You laughed and smacked his cheek playfully. He even saw the intersection of your pussy and his dick, his semen was slowly oozing out of you. The sight made him hard again and you widened your eyes and immediately got up his dick.

Shanks barked out a laugh at your reaction and he laid you down on the bed. “What? Your stamina can’t take it?” He teased you.

Now you weren’t someone to take stamina criticism from your old ass captain, so you said, “Try me, captain. I’m sure you’ll duck out sooner than me.”

“Oh yeah?”

That night you both went on for a few more rounds and both of you ducked out at the same time. You both didn’t bother cleaning up and he slept with you with his dick still buried inside you.

___

It was around noon the next day, Shanks had given you a nice hot bath and cleaned himself too. He let you sleep in and he said he would be back after checking in with the crewmates.

He walked to the bar he left last night and saw almost all of them passed out on the floor, chairs, and the fucking wall. He even saw puddles of puke at some corners and huffed. Shanks took a vacant chair and drank a half-emptied bottle of water.

Yasopp was passing by with a brush in his mouth and saw his captain in the beach bar. He didn’t fail to notice all the marks on his chest and neck. Disappointed at his captain for not even attempting to cover his love bites, and he did seem like he was proudly showing it off. “Oh she a freak freak,” he huffed and mumbled to himself. Being fully aware of your wilderness and his captain’s desire towards you.

-the end-

[ofallthingsnasty]

Please indulge me with what the life of being arlong’s human pet entails

Gladly 😏 Sorry this took so long, I just couldn't write this without re-reading the Arlong Park arc and Jinbei's flashback. (But I have to say it gave me so, so much inspo for more stuff with him hehe - he just ticks off every violence and degradation box there is, what a character 🤭) anon is referencing this post tw. gn reader, violence, noncon, torture, free use mention, dead dove: do not eat, dehumanization, (inevitable) death, minors dni, read the tags and read them twice

Nothing good, I can tell you that.

I know I talked about being his pet - but really, the term 'pet' is already way too generous. It implies that you’re in some favored position, maybe even loved - and really, you aren’t. You see, Nami is of use to him, is a valuable member of the Arlong Pirates due to her skills - and you? What exactly do you have that could gain you any favors with him? 

Nothing. You’ve got nothing but a too-soft body and a broken down spirit. Entirely useless for his endeavors as a pirate - but perfect for kicking, abusing, tormenting and blowing off steam. (And, he finds, you’re actually a nice example - much better than expected, especially when he parades you around in his towns, beaten and eyes utterly empty. When he’s feeling particularly foul, he makes you crawl in front of the villagers just like the World Nobles do. Just to show those little humans what he’s capable of. Nothing better to make them see how weak they are when he can just make you wipe your feet with your own dignity.) What he likes best about you is your fear, your terror - it’s probably what made him take you in the first place, because you becoming his little pet was more of a spontaneous thing, not planned. (He should have made an example out of you but your eyes... The way you cowered in front of him in nothing but raw, visceral fear was delicious back then and still is.) His personal little punching bag and stress relief rolled into one measly fucking human who does as he says because they’ve been scared into submission by his rampages and abuse. Still, I think he didn’t start out as severe as he treats you now - at first, you were shoved into some corner and unsure what to actually do with you, he just made you clean and serve his crew. To wring some measly fucking use out of you. To have some sort of justification for housing you at Arlong Park - because keeping you like this is just a waste of money. But there is a big difference between scrubbing the floor until your knees are raw to ‘earn’ a living and being forced to lick it sparkly clean with a foot on the back of your head - somehow, you end up down there all the same, each day you spent with him and his crew melting away their (already incredibly small) inhibitions as soon they realized no one is going to stop them from doing… just about anything to you. (And that’s one of the worst parts about this, really. That you’re free to anyone, with just a couple of privileges reserved for Arlong. Half of them spit in your face in disgust, the rest are more physical, for better or for worse.) I think he is a big fan of all things utterly degrading, just to put you in your place for the fun of it: addressing you like you’re an animal and not a person, having you crawl around Arlong Park (naked or not - really, that’s up to him), using you as furniture, strangling or pushing your head into his little pool long enough for your legs to give out - you’re so easily overpowered and always surprised when he catches you, it’s such a sight. And of course, you have other uses as well - and he doesn’t give a shit when he makes you vomit by forcing himself down your throat or you tearing when he’s too rough. You’re there for his entertainment only. It’s like someone giving a kid an inflated sword toy to hit their friends with: once he sees how far he can take it, there is no stopping him. His hatred for humans has few exceptions and you don’t fill any of them, not even when you try your best to be well-behaved. 

And one day, he’s going to kill you, intentionally or not. Like some threadbare teddy bear, your head is simply going to pop off, played with a little too hard, for too long. Be it some nasty infection you caught from a cut too deep or him holding your head underwater for too long or him simply kicking you too hard in the face - whatever it is, you’ll be wishing it had been the barrel of a gun instead.

[thebluestbluewords]

a pirate by any name +

"Samson Smee?" Ben asks, tapping the name on the list. “Is he related to Captain Hook’s sidekick?” 

Evie leans closer on instinct. She doesn’t need to see the paperwork to know who Sammy is, but it’s a habit now to press close to Ben and tilt her head just-so to see the paper lists and forms when they’re working on VK matters together. It a comfort, to know that she’s not in this fight alone, and Ben certainly hasn’t complained about the increased contact with his girlfriend’s girlfriend. “Yes. He goes by Sammy. He's probably not going to want to come over without his brothers, but we can still make the offer." 

"Can we bring the brothers?" 

The last time Evie saw the littlest Smee children, they were sobbing over a pirate’s body before the adult crew members tipped them over the harbor for the sharks to take their share. They couldn’t have been more than seven or eight years old, and what Evie remembers the most is the way their tears had carved clean tracks out of the dirt on their faces. 

She hums her consideration. “They're young. Elementary age, maybe ten or so now. I think they'd be okay to come, but they're shy, and I'm not sure how they'd do at school. As families go, I think all the Smee boys would do well in terms of goodness integration, but they may be difficult to integrate on a social level unless they can come over with someone they already know." 

"Alright. Who do you think they'd do well with?" 

Their father. 

“Their father,” Evie says, bitingly, before she reigns her tongue back in again. Not that it matters around Ben, who is handsome and kind and just listens when Evie needs to shout at somebody about the horrible unfairness of it all, but it’s good practice. She’s a politician now, just like her mother wanted. She’s got to be the best, because she’s an isle brat, and she cannot afford to make mistakes. Anything she says, anything she does wrong will reflect on the isle as a whole, so she’s got to be flawless. She will prove herself not just for her mother’s sake, but because she’s got a thousand hungry kids waiting for her to mess up and snip their only thread of hope at getting off the isle. “But that’s exactly the problem. Sammy has a crew, but the twins just tag along with him or their father all the time, and I don't think Auradon Prep, or any other high school for that matter, wants to have a pair of kids following their new high school student everywhere,” Evie sighs. She’s so fucking tired.  “We have schools on the isle, obviously, but Sammy doesn’t attend very often. The pirates usually stick with their ships and learn what they need from the older members of their crews. It’s not a traditional Auradon education, but the pirates are actually some of the better educated kids on the isle. It works for them, but it won’t work if we bring them here.” 

Ben puts a warm hand on her arm. It’s all Evie can do not to sink into the touch. She’s so, so tired of this. Of begging for any scrap they can get. Any concession to the norm comes at the price of another sliver of her own sanity, it feels like, and there’s so many children who won’t be able to handle the pressure of Auradon Prep, who will need more exceptions than the system is set up to give them, who won’t be able to thrive without the attention that nobody is able to give them. 

“We can ask the charter school,” Ben says softly. “There's integrated schools, all ages sort of places. My mother’s village has one. We can reach out. She provides a grant each year, they might decide they own me a favor.” 

Evie presses into his touch. Gods below, but it’s nice to have somebody who knows better than her the networks of favors and family histories that keep the kingdom governments running. “Or if we could find a family who would be willing to keep them together and send them to separate day schools, they might get used to being on their own like that,” Evie suggests. “Sort of slow and steady. A gradual break.” 

Ben makes a note, a shorthand scribble on the side of his list. Evie’s eyes are swirling too much to read it exactly, but she knows their code. Foster family, special education, sibling unit. That’s what they need to know in order to place the Smee boys. A whole life, reduced down to three shorthand scribbles. “That could work. What are the brothers called?" 

Evie laughs, exhausted. “Squeaky and Squirmy, but I believe their birth names are Sawyer and Simon. They're not bad kids, they're just shy. They would do better here, I think. Where there’s less adults around to bully them into staying quiet.” 

 Ben slips his hand up her arm, around her shoulders, pulls until she can rest her head on the side of his own. He’s warm and sturdy and if they weren’t in the middle of important work, Evie could fall asleep just like this. And then cause a scandal when the service staff come in to wake them both up, and find the young king sleeping on a girl who is not his girlfriend, no matter how many interests and people they share between them. 

"We can ask. If Sammy's willing to come over without them, who do you think we could bring with him?" 

"Anthony. Dizzy's cousin. They run with the same crew, and they'd do well together. I would say that we should bring over Harriet, but knowing her, she's not going to come over unless we can get the rest of her crew out first, and she's got one of the biggest crews on the isle." 

 Ben skims the list of kids, running his pen down the side as he goes. “Harriet?" 

She’s not on the list. 

“Hook,” Evie explains. “She’s one of the eldest pirate kids. We didn’t add her to the list because she won’t come until we can bring her crew with her, and we can’t promise that yet.” 

“Hook.” Ben echoes, voice flat. “As in—?” 

He’s encountered Harry, and came away with almost as much vitriol for him as Mal. 

Evie presses herself closer to him, so that he can feel her heat, and maybe remember that they’re in her office, not the wet deck of a ship. That he’s not tied to a mast, waiting to die anymore. “Yes. There are three Hook kids, and they all hate each other. We only hate Harry, the middle one, so Harriet and CJ are our allies. Sort of an enemy-of-our-enemy kind of thing."

"Harry's the one who's involved with Uma.” Ben says, so softly that Evie can barely hear the words. “The one who tried to kill me.” 

"Yes. He's....” Evie hesitates. She’s safe to hesitate here, in her own little office that smells like citrus wood polish and old papers. She doesn’t have to preform just for Ben, because she can trust him. Her sweet, kind king.

Trust doesn’t mean she wants to tell him everything. Understatement is a tool that Evie is well practiced at wielding, so she lets herself close her eyes, and forges ahead. “He’s a lot. We don't like him." 

Ben smiles, small and sweet and almost sad. "I take it there's a history there?" 

"Just a bit." Evie agrees. "There's been a few incidents."

"Would it be useful for me to know?"

Evie breathes in, and out, and relaxes her shoulders in an attempt to let go of the anger that she's still holding in her body. "I suppose so. Yes." 

"Do you want to tell me?" 

Honesty is the foundation of good relationships. "No." 

Ben nods. He's too good to them. "You could tell me later. If you'd like." 

The memory of blood spills over Evie's hands. The slippery, awful feeling of insides that were never supposed to become outsides against her leather gloves. The gritty feeling of dirt in her eyes that she can't rub out, blown up from the shattered crates they'd been aiming to take back from the pirates. The blood though, that's the part that she can't forget. She's been a medic since she first started sneaking out of her mother's house, but she's usually restricted herself to broken arms and legs and noses, some shallow stitches, fever medication, abortifacients and concussion care for the kids who can't take the dubious mercy of the barrier's spell. She's done medications for the kids who cared to try them, all sorts of poultices and remedies for the ailments that are within her power to fix. 

She's never been able to fix someone once they start bleeding out. 

She knows the theory of it. Blood transfusions, tourniquets, ways of stopping arteries without killing the patient. The problem is that she's never had to do it firsthand, because they've always known that the spell on the barrier was there to catch them before they died for real. The spell heals the killing blows, so it's easier to lean into the death than it is to staunch critical bleeding. Evie's killed kids herself, those who wouldn't die quick enough on their own, so that they could have the mercy of the barrier and the spell healing them back into a body marginally less broken than the one they'd left from. 

"He killed us." Evie manages, around the memory of blood spilling up from her throat. "They made it a game. Him and Uma and their crew. We killed each other." 

They've told Ben enough. He can figure out the rest, and he's smart and good and kind, so he does, and she can see him go white when he figures it out. 

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

If there's one thing i can say good about jimmy from mouthwashing is that he's effective cautionary character about "some people don't deserve a chance." He's a good reminder that some people are utterly horrible and cause nothing but harm if you try to help them

Mouthwashing is great because literally everyone in there (except Daisuke) is an antagonist.

Jimmy is very much his own worst enemy and even though he is the protagonist in that he's the guy the story is about, he's also creating his own obstacles in his story with his actions in a Man vs. Self way.

Polle is the face of the incorporeal antagonist; the opposing force of the capitalistic hellscape the Mouthwashing crew live under. Every problem the crew faces that is not directly Jimmy's fault, from supply shortages in the Tulpar, to the lackluster quality of the vessel, to everything being a 'dog and pony show' as Swansea put it, is because higher ups wanted to cut corners and cut corners they did.

Curly is the sloth antagonist, not a villain because of what he's done, but because of what he *hasn't* done. He was Jimmy's friend instead of his boss, he hadn't spoken up against management despite the fact that as the captain of the ship he really should not lie there and take it when human rights are being violated (lack of locks on bedrooms, the 'one celebration only' rule, pretty much every rule shown on the posters, four cryopods and five crew members, etc...), and he admitted that while he'd 'go crazy looking for the dead pixel', he elected to ignore it the second it meant something more, ignore it in favor of the big picture, the second it was a much more serious issue than he thought it was. I have a strong feeling that one of the reasons why his life is one he wants to escape is because he's not an active player in his own life but a passive entity that just keeps chugging along the same tracks laid out for him no matter how rusty and broken they are.

Swansea is the Red herring antagonist, he's a grumpy asshole, however, he's only really a villain through the very biased eyes of Jimmy who sees the worst out of him because Jimmy is projecting what he would do in Swansea's shoes onto Swansea. As opposed to being a protagonist's shadow antagonist, he's the 'good clone', he's a man who isn't the best, but he did get his act together when he knew he was on a dark path. Swansea is brave enough to admit when he's gone too far and needs to take it back while Jimmy remains a coward who lies to himself til his last breath.

Anya is the sympathetic antagonist in that she's an opposing force against the protagonist (Jimmy) simply by existing and clawing her agency and personhood out of the narrative despite the fact her story is shown to us through the eyes of her tormentor and the man passive to her torment. The devil works hard to make her look like a pathetic damsel in distress, but Anya works harder; keeping Curly alive despite all odds, managing to do the hardest thing she could do and call for help twice (Once to Curly, the second time to Swansea) despite it being futile, and took matters into her own hands only when there was clearly no other option for her. Anya has two giant flaws against herself: her kind heart (trying over and over to get into medical school despite the glass ceiling (there's no way in hell there's not a glass ceiling in her case, SHE KEPT A FUCKING SKINLESS MAN ALIVE WITH SHITTY FIRST AID KITS), and telling fucking JIMMY 'I don't think our worst moments make us monsters'.) and her horrifically bad luck (See.. the entire game).

[amidstthemists]

You, a troublemaker, have a chance encounter with Buggy when he and his crew raid the ship you’re on.

You were always the jokester on your ship. The rest of the crew tolerated it, but jokes were your bread and butter. As a pirate, the days were long and the work was hard and you’d be damned if you didn’t keep yourself amused with silly rhymes, one liners, snarky comebacks, absurdisms, whatever you could come up with, really. Usually you were responded to with a roll of the eyes, a suffering sort of smile, even silence, but sometimes you said a real zinger and got the crew to come together in laughter. Those were the best times. But you enjoyed some of the less tolerant reactions too. You found a particular enjoyment in being a menace.

When your ship was taken over by a group of theatrically inclined circus pirates, everyone in your crew was certain they would all be dying in strange, unusual, and possibly theatrical ways. That was what you were prepared for, too. And, sure, it was unfortunate, but at least the lighting was sure to be great and your inevitable demise was sure to be creative. Being a pirate, believe it or not, was often very tedious business unless you were actively in the middle of some mischief. Dying sucked, but at least it would be interesting and keep you occupied.

And your good humor, much to your captured crew’s chagrin, was there to keep you company until the theatrically inclined circus pirates figured out what to do with the lot of you.

When a certain clownish pirate captain made an appearance, sauntering around the deck of your ship as if he owned the place, a member from your crew elbowed you hard in the ribs and warned, “Better not be planning any funny business.”

If your hands weren’t already raised in surrender with the rest of the crew, you would have put them up defensively. But a mischievous smile was playing on your lips as you said, “Who knows what I’m planning?”

“Who said something about my nose?!” Captain Buggy’s voice was so loud that everyone jumped at the exclamation.

Your eyes moved over the fine yet intimidating figure that was the invading clown pirate captain. His outfit was flashy and makeup was unapologetically clownish. He moved with a grace and confidence that belied the outrage he clearly felt over a comment on his nose. You realize that he must have been insecure (and, overall, overcompensating) for something, but what really got your attention was the frown that defied how his makeup stretched into a smile. His makeup begged for him to smile and, aside from whatever insecurity he harbored, he looked like he could take a good joke. It would be a shame if he couldn’t take a good joke, after all, since he was, in fact, a clown.

Everyone averted their eyes when he stared them down, shining blue eyes roving over each member of the crew you belonged to. Everyone, that is, except you. You looked back at him, unwavering, an amused grin on your face.

“What’re you smiling about?” He questioned, taking a few lumbering steps over to you. He was so tall and moved with such unique grace, such intense purpose.

“What? People can’t smile when they see a clown anymore?” You asked back, daring to lower your hands only to be jabbed in the ribs again, this time by a member of Buggy’s crew. Your hands darted back up into a surrender, but you rolled you eyes as you did it. “I thought that was, like, the whole point. And, anyway, you should think about smiling more. A frowny clowny is a little bit of a contradiction, I would think.”

Buggy advanced until he grabbed ahold of your collar and said, head cocked and inches from your face, “Well, Captain Frowny Clowny is a little pissy-wissied because some fuck-twat should have kept their mouth shut instead of talking about something that wasn’t their business. And, come to think of it, I could have sworn that voice came from your direction. Do you know anything about that, princess?”

You could feel his breath on your cheeks, could feel how strong his hand was, and wondered in equal parts what it would be like to be kissed by someone like him and what it would be like to be thrown overboard by someone with such enthusiasm. When you smiled again, his eyes flickered to your lips before darting back to lock gazes with you. He was impatient like a man but as feral as an animal in his intensity.

“I do.”

“Oh, really? Pray, why don’t you share with the class what you know?” If he was an animal, he liked to play with his food before he ate it.

You felt everyone’s eyes on you and you knew that he felt them too: the captive audience for his performance. But he didn’t know that you liked an audience, too.

“All I was saying was—“

“—so it was you who had something to say. Why am I not surprised?—“

“Hush, I’m not done.” Your voice was a little choked from how the collar cut into your throat, but you pushed on anyway, smile as unwavering as the rest of you. “All I was saying was that why are you so upset about your nose when you have so much more to worry about? I mean,” you wheezed out a giggle at how the expression on his face changed, “I mean, you have twice as many eyes as you do noses and you’re acting like your nose is your biggest problem. What’s up with that?”

“What?”

“And don’t even get me started on your ears.”

You and Buggy stared at each other in silence. The whole ship seemed to be holding a collective breath. Your smile settled into a closed mouthed, triumphant smirk, and when he looked at you like he was trying to read another language, you wiggled your eyebrows. Then, just when you thought he was going to throw you overboard after all, a smile broke through the clown’s determinedly fierce looking scowl and you two started to laugh together.

He released his grip on your collar, smoothed down your shirt, and slung an arm over your shoulder. “You’re not half bad, princess.” He started to lead you away from your crew. “You know, I’m feeling generous.” He looked to his crew, “Take the loot, take whatever you want, but they get to live. Go crazy. Let’s give them some stories to take back to port about Captain Buggy and his dastardly crew.”

He waited for the chaos and carnage to start before looking back to you. “Have you ever thought about running away with the circus? Because do I have an offer for you…”

[bodhranwriting]

Emmett Learns a Secret - Bodhrán M. Tocktick Extract

“What?” Sixsmith put his feet on the ground and turned around, unrolling the tattered paper.

Emmett, watching for any twitch or indication of surprise, felt his fury grow as his friend just grunted as the scarily accurate rendering of his face was revealed.

“Well, that’s a thing,” he said flatly.

Certainty coursed through his veins. “You knew.”

Sixsmith’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t say anything.

Emmett sank into the other seat, grasping a handful of his own hair. “Six, what the hell did you do?”

“Nuthin’.”

“Nothing? Six, they’ve put five hundred pounds on your head! Five hundred – do you have any idea what that’s worth? Here? Shades beside us, a hundred pounds is unthinkable to most Islanders, let alone five times that!”

“Oh,” Sixsmith blinked. “it’s gone up.”

Emmett gaped at him.

“I think ‘m worth at least twice that,” Sixsmith waved a hand airily as he regarded the image. “It’s an older drawin’ anyway.” He ran a finger down his scars and then over his head, letting his eyes bug to emphasise his point. “Most people probably wouldn’t figure it out.”

“That’s not the point –“

“Hey, are me ears really that big?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Sixsmith froze.

Emmett jabbed a finger at the wanted poster, fighting to keep his legs from shaking and his accent from thickening into incomprehensibility. “Really. What the fuck is your problem? Is this a – a thing for you? Do you like being constantly in danger because you pissed someone off? Do you want to get your throat cut?”

Sixsmith looked at him, expressionless and still said nothing.

“Is that what this is?” Emmett snapped. “Some kind of – of chasing glory days? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“That you’re wanted! Six, I have a kid and a crew to think about!”

His friend swallowed convulsively. “Would you have chucked me out?”

He halted, a stone forming in his gut.

Sixsmith didn’t even blink.

“No,” Emmett said. “No, I wouldn’t. But, fucking hell, Six. You should have told me.”

Shrugging, Sixsmith sat forwards and took the poster. “I didn’t think it’d be a problem. I didn’t think word have spread this far.”

“Who the hell did you piss off with that kind of money?”

Sixsmith shrugged again, mouth compressing into a thin line.

Emmett recognised that look, at least. Wild horses wouldn’t – couldn’t – drag the secret from the man sitting opposite him.

He didn’t like it, but neither was he going to try and change it. There was just too much going on.

Deflating slightly, Emmett leant back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. “Be honest, Six. How long has this been going on?”

A long sigh echoed about the room. “’bout eight months.”

“Eight months?”

Sixsmith chuckled. “’m a rabbit, ‘member? I know how to run. Kept meself pretty above water for the most part.”

Covering his eyes with his hand, Emmett said, “Most part?”

He heard Sixsmith shift in his seat. “I may have been briefly caught in Pentonbrae,” he admitted ruefully. “Coupla locals had a shufti an’ figured me out. Got jumped on my way out of town.”

“Oh, shades –“

“It’s fine,” Sixsmith smirked. “They were amateurs. If you’re gonna lock someone in a shed, make sure it’s empty first.”