#its the way captain being more and more gentle and soft | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

badgerbl00d · 2 months ago

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you've reached situationship central!

☆ characters: akagami no shanks (pt. 2)

☆ up next: TBA

☆ summary: being stuck in an on again off again (very indulgent) relationship with the notorious red haired shanks is not for the faint of heart..

☆ content: angsty, happy ending, nsfw, smut, complicated relationship drama, 18+ mdni

☆ a/n: hi my loves!!!! i am knee deep in midterms right now but as we all know, one piece smut is more important so here i am. will try to have another fic up next sunday <3

#i would tolerate a concerning amount of disrespect from this man wc: 5k oops 🙈

Never in his life had he so clearly felt jealousy. What was, an hour ago, a small, weak fire in his chest had grown into something more sinister– the thick, heavy heat spreading throughout his body. His mind was fogged by an onslaught of nauseating images- his hands on your waist, fingers digging into your plush, soft, forgiving flesh. His lips on your neck, placing light, arid kisses against your sensitive skin. Your pliant, charitable attention being focused on him, his face, his words, his touch, his authority.

It was blinding, Shanks felt as though he was losing control of himself. He fought against his own wandering thoughts, trying to focus on the drink in front of him. The sickening sound of your gentle laughter filled his ears, you were so enraptured by the trivial, pointless conversation you found yourself caught in. The sound of your voice, of your focused occupation, your precious attention should be directed at Shanks and Shanks alone.

He pounded back the small cup filled with whiskey; never in his life had this kind of possessiveness taken him over so quickly. White hot jealousy wrapped its hands around him and he could not struggle out of its grasp. Of course, there had been moments with past flings and more-than-casual acquaintances that left him feeling a twinge of jealousy, a hint of what he now felt. He was always well aware of the nature of these relationships, they were meant to be fleeting, unsustained. Sweet, induglent moments in the otherwise chaotic uncertainty of his life. His reputation preceded him, in both bed and in battle he was ruthless, commanding, completely in control. To be rendered so weak, so desperate by the sweetest, most docile woman he’d ever met in his life was… he wasn’t sure what it was. Karmic?

A degree of it, he supposed, was shame. Embarrassment at his own past actions as the realization dawned on him that he has most likely made countless others feel the same. He’d always brushed it off as the inevitable nature of these things– they were, at their core, impermanent, unserious. You weren’t any different, he’d supposed.

Perhaps, he thought, he was incredibly naive. You were different– in every possible way! You weren’t only a lover but a member of his crew. He implicitly and absolutely trusted you with his life, the lives of Beckmann, Yasopp, Lucky, his family. You were family.

Glimpses of your time spent together within the last few weeks flashes through his whiskey-addled mind:

The way your cheeks squished against his chest when you obliged his requests to spend the night in his room, “I sleep better with you, sweetheart,” he’d explained. The softness of your voice in the morning, asking him, “Ten more minutes, Captain?”

The small, soft smiles you’d give him when you crossed paths on the ship.

Never had he felt so entitled to ownership of a person.

The sound of your laughter once again caught his attention, and worsened his mood. Your friend was smiling with pride, clearly happy to have elicited such a sweet sound from you. It was his last straw. He quickly stood, leaving more than enough money on the counter to pay for his drinks, and walked over to you.

It was difficult to not notice when a man with Shanks’ energy was directing all of it toward one, unfortunate person. As he walked, he began drawing the attention of most of the other patrons in the bar.

“Y/n,” he said, his voice more stern now than it had ever been with you, “Let’s head back. It’s late.”

Your lips parted in shock, and you slowly looked up at him.

Ignoring the man in front of you was easy– child’s play. But ignoring the surprise and confusion on your face at his tone– not his words, but the harsh, indifferent manner in which he said them– was something he wished he’d never have to do again.

“So soon?” you asked, voice soft, “Benny said he’d let us know when he wanted us back–”

“Now.”

You sharply inhaled, and closed your mouth. Blinking up at him, taking a second to process whatever this sudden change in personality was.

Your friend was silent, the evident awkwardness of the situation earning an uncomfortable pause in sound from the three of you.

“That’s alright, Y/n,” your friend said, “I was… just getting ready to head home myself.”

Shanks clenched his jaw, refusing to look at either of you.

“Well, alright,” you said, gathering your coat and standing, “Thank you for the drinks, lovely to see you.”

He shook your hand, placing a soft kiss on the back of it– a soft pink hue began to color your cheeks.

“Write to me,” he said, putting on his coat before offering you a half-smile and leaving.

Shanks grabbed your arm, practically dragging you out of the bar into the cold of the night. Your breathing was fast, white clouds forming in the winter air with every exhale. He was walking quickly, his grip now firmly settled on your wrist– you were struggling to keep up, practically jogging as he half-dragged you behind him.

“Shanks,” you yelped, “Slow down– Please!”

He ignored you, maintaining his pace. Your wrist was beginning to ache, “Shanks!”

Another pointless plea. Your frustration was increasing and had begun to boil into anger.

Though it took a lot to get a rise out of you, your Captain’s behavior was starting to seriously upset you.

Your wrist ached, badly now, and you were tired. Your body had not properly adjusted from the warmth of the bar, the dim yellow lighting and strong drinks had spread a soft heat throughout you and the sudden cold of the deep blue winter night you were now being dragged through was an unwelcome interruption. It was no later than half past nine and you knew that his excuse about it being late was complete bullshit. You couldn’t even count the number of times Shanks had come back from a night out at noon the following day.

You came to a sudden stop, planting both of your feet firmly in the snow and yanking your hand out of his grip with a cry.

Shanks turned, taking a deep breath– the anger on his face only upsetting you further.

“What is wrong with you?”

He laughed, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration, “With me? You were practically fucking that guy in front of me and you have the audacity to ask what’s wrong with me?”

Your eyes widened at the harshness of his words, completely taken aback by his attitude. Never had he spoken to you so obscenely. You gasped, partially from the shock of his speech, and tears welled in your eyes.

It was overwhelming, to have a man of his size and notoriety talking to you in such a filthy, angry manner. But, after all this time, Shanks was an idiot to think you would crumble so easily to harsh language– you were, after all, one of the stronger members of the crew.

“What did you just say?” you bit back, your tone just as venomous.

“You heard me,” Shanks scoffed, “Laughing at his jokes, accepting the drinks he bought you, promising to write him back? At this point just fuck him.”

You were completely infuriated. How dare Shanks– the most notorious womanizer on the ocean– reprimand you for flirting. Since when was your relationship a marriage?

You inhaled, carefully calculating what to say to piss him off even more, “Okay. I will, then.”

You turned and started walking quickly back the way you came, slightly unnerved when you didn’t hear his footsteps following behind you.

You ignored the absence of sound and held your head high as you walked back toward town.

“Y/n,” Shanks said your name once, a clear warning.

You ignored it and picked up your pace. Your vision was blurred with tears, and your nose bright red from the cold. You steeled yourself– now wasn’t the time to let your Captain know how badly his words hurt you, how shocking it was for him to speak to you so cruelly.

You barely heard the flurry of his footsteps by the time he’d caught up to you, turning you around to face him.

You avoided making eye contact with him, not wanting to dignify his insults by showing the tears that resulted from them.

“Get off me,” you said, but your voice had significantly weakened.

Shanks’ grip on your arm loosened, an effect of guilt. He hadn’t expected you to cry.

“Fuck you,” you said, “Don’t act like we were ever exclusive.”

Shanks swallowed, you weren’t wrong. In the year you had been seeing one another he’d had multiple encounters with past and new flings– all less important than you of course, but your point remained.

“Not once,” you continued, pushing through despite your wavering voice and sore throat, “Have I ever been with anyone since we started… this. But you?”

He let go of your arm, hoping now that you’d turn away.

“You have forfeited any right to jealousy, Shanks. Don’t you dare fucking tell me who I can and can’t sleep with. Have I ever said anything to you about your dozens and dozens of partners in the past year?”

You emphasized your point with a harsh jab at his chest.

He was silent, guilt beginning to wrack through his quickly sobering mind.

“Well?” you insisted.

“Y/n,” he started.

“No,” you said, answering yourself, “I haven’t.

And do you think it was easy? To watch someone I cared about so much– Someone I love toss me to the side repeatedly over and over and over? Week after week, month after month, you’d use me and entertain me when it convenienced you just to put your hands, your lips on someone else the next day. Treat me like I was something to you, play the role of a husband, a lover, a friend and then do the same to another woman right after?”

“I didn’t realize–”

“Of course, not,” you choked out, “Of course you didn’t. Until I had a conversation, a fucking conversation with someone else. That’s all I had to do to finally get you to want me? Talk to someone? I wish I would have known that a year ago, you fucking asshole.”

Your tears flowed freely now, the cold not helping hide the emotion on your face. Your cheeks were a deep shape of pink, your lips puffy from the cold.

Shanks was overcome with guilt and regret. He was an idiot, as you had so graciously confirmed. What could he do? What could he say?

“You acted so indifferent,” he responded, “We’d spend a week in love and then… when I did start to entertain someone else, at a bar, or party, or wherever, you’d act so indifferent. Like you didn’t care at all.”

“What else could I do? What right do I have to you?”

“Every right,” he gasped, sinking to his knees in front of you, wrapping his hand firmly around yours. He looked up at you with a sort of reverence that momentarily took your breath away. But that was what he did, he treated you like a goddess, like a divine creature one moment, and like anyone else the next.

“They were all distractions from you. I thought that if you cared so little for me I might draw something out of you with them– jealousy, anger, hatred, anything.”

“You succeeded,” you whispered, sniffling.

“No, no I haven’t,” he said, “I’ve done the opposite. I’ve guaranteed your indifference now.”

You sighed, not even trying to fight the tears now, “I’ve tried, Shanks. I’ve tried to be indifferent.

I tried, tonight, to spark up old affections for someone else. I used to be in love with him, you know? He’s a writer and a good man. And despite all of that, despite his intelligence and wit, despite his kindness, despite how handsome he is I found myself sitting in that wretched chair drinking and thinking about you. Your touch and your lips and your voice.”

You broke out into a sob, falling against Shanks who gently picked you up and started the walk back to the ship. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, tucking your face into the crook of his neck placing a kiss against it. You were helpless, you’d realized. You were in love with Shanks.

The walk was short, ten minutes at most. Shanks spent it half-delirious, cursing himself in every way possible for having done you such harm as he felt the crook of his neck getting more and more soaked with tears.

For the first time in his life, he deeply wished that he were religious so that he might directly ask a higher power for forgiveness. You felt so light in his arm, your figure so perfectly wrapped around his that he realized, at the very least, he would spend the rest of his life making it up to you.

How many times had he flirted pointlessly with a girl at a bar, at a port, on an island leading her back to his room hoping to get a reaction out of you that would confirm your feelings for him just to be welcomed with your indifference and send her home anyway?

If he’d doubted his love for you earlier it was undeniable now, pressing against his ribcage like a rabid caged animal– hungry and desperate, willing to cling on to anything offered to it.

Your confession fed it, not enough, not even close, but enough to sate it for the time being.

You loved him, Shanks reminded himself as he carried you on board the ship and started to walk toward your room.

“Shanks,” you whispered, tugging at his collar, “Let me sleep in your room. It’s warmer.”

He redirected his path toward his own bedroom, quietly opening the door and placing you in his bed. He helped you take off your coat and shoes before removing his own and crawling into bed next to you.

He racked his brain for the words with which to start his apology.

You wouldn’t even look at him.

“Y/n,” he said, “Please look at me. Talk to me.”

You slowly turned, scooting yourself closer to him.

“I’m tired.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he brought up a hand to your face, “Can I hold you?”

You paused for a moment and then gave him a small nod. He situated you on his lap, and slowly placed a soft, chaste kiss on your lips.

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, as he finally conjured up the bravery to begin his apology.

“In the past year,” he started, “The women, the girls, all of them were just to elicit a reaction out of you. When you’d ignore it, or act indifferent I’d just send them home. I never… slept with them.”

He felt pathetic, it was a humbling admission to say the least.

You pulled him in for another gentle kiss. “I know,” you whispered against his lips, “I figured after I accidentally ran into one leaving just a few moments after you’d shown up on board with her. But it wasn’t just the sex that was hard, Shanks. It was having to watch you talk to them, charm them, and for them to all fall for it so easily. Like I did. Like I am right now.”

He nodded, wiping away the tear that had begun to make its way down your cheek, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It was all just a terrible way to try and… to get you to love me back, I suppose.”

“But I do! I do, Captain, I have since I first set foot on board this ship, from the moment our eyes met. I can’t even entertain the thought of anyone else. It makes me sick to think of anyone that isn’t you–”

He crashed his lips into yours, he could no longer bear the passion that had been slowly burning inside him. His hand came up to the base of your neck, tangling itself in your hair gently tugging your head backwards leaving your neck open to him.

He nipped at it, leaving small bites and sucking it– the warmth was addicting, inebriating.

You melted into his touch, your back arching into him– sweet moans pouring from your mouth.

“Mmmh,” you whined, nails digging into his shoulders, “Shanks, I need you. I need you.”

His lips found their way back to yours and he freed his hand from your neck, helping you take your shirt off, unclasping your bra. You tugged at the hem of his shirt, lifting it over his head, pouting when the cloth forced your lips to leave his. They quickly reattached, your mutual desperation increasing.

He palmed your tits in his large hand. Your body was so warm, so soft and buttery, melting in his grip. His palms were still cold from the harsh temperature and the walk back home, the coolness earning him a gasp as he brushed his palm over your nipples.

The heat between your thighs was increasing, your slick arousal beginning to dampen your panties. You moaned into the kiss, welcoming his eager tongue into your mouth, gently sucking on it as he teased your nipples, now pinching and flicking.

“Mmmmm,” you moaned.

He pulled away, his hands never stopping their ministrations on your sensitive buds, a heart-stopping smirk on his handsome face, “What’s that?”

“More,” you panted, a small string of saliva hanging from your swollen bottom lip, “Please.��

Your eyebrows furrowed, an expression of desire and want settling on your face.

“I could never say no to you, sweetheart,” he said, running a finger under the band of your pants, “Let me make everything up to you. Please let me earn your forgiveness.”

You nodded, granting him the permission he so desperately sought.

Shanks worked quickly, a man who greatly concerns himself with how you spend your time did not want to waste any of it.

Your pants are quickly removed and you lie back on his bed, left in only a pair of pink panties.

He leaves his own pants on, and lies on his stomach pressing soft kisses to your feet. He started working his way up your body, giving equal attention to right and left sides, peppering you with kisses, gentle bites, and soft licks. He spent a frustrating amount of time on your inner thighs, biting hard enough to earn a yelp or two, leaving possessive marks in the shape of his teeth. He kissed the wet spot on your panties, that was now dripping onto his sheets, expertly avoiding the spot where you wanted to feel him so badly.

He gently sucked at the fabric, eyes shutting as he savored your taste, “This is for me?”

“Y-yes,” you whimpered, “Shanks…”

You brought a hand to your pussy, to attempt to move your panties to the side.

“Tsk, tsk,” he warned, “Hands above your head.”

You were far too sensitive and pliant to disobey now.

Your hole throbbed, earning a kiss from your Captain, “Very cute. Stay still, sweetness.”

His tongue tucked itself beneath the side hem of your panties, and pushed them to the side. You gasped at the split second of contact his warm tongue made with your pulsing clit. His finger replaced his tongue to hold your panties out of the way, and quickly, without any kind of warning whatsoever, he began to ravish you.

His tongue expertly licked from your hole to your puffy clit, generously spreading your arousal over your pussy. He sucked and licked, he wasn’t just eating you out– he was making out with your pussy. You let out a soft cry and your hands found themselves tangled in his hair and your chest heaved with rapid, desperate breaths. Your moans filled his room, you were completely overcome by the sensation of his tongue against you. He was as close to eating you as he could be without hurting you. The sounds coming from his mouth against your pussy were disgustingly obscene, like a starved dog eats without second thought your Captain feasted on you– savoring the proof of your love and affection.

Your eyes rolled back and your lips parted to form a perfect ‘O’ as he slipped a thick finger into you, and then another.

Shanks had fucked you before, how many times exactly you had lost count of. You were more than familiar with each others’ bodies and, in truth, this was far from the first time that he had made you feel so good. But something was different this time.

Knowing now that it was you that brought him down to this level of depravity allowed you to release completely– give him full control over you, your body, your thoughts.

It felt sinful, wrong, terrible to reduce him to such a state of animalism. You felt as though you, minxlike and tempting, had corrupted a great man, led him to a point of such violent desperation that you were the only thing that could sate him.

You gave him this illness and now, cruelly, were also the only person who could cure it.

Your arousal coated his fingers completely and had started to drip down his hand. He pulled back, removing his fingers to bring his hand down to his own pants. His tongue’s assault on your pussy stopped, and was momentarily replaced by kisses and he removed his pants, and stroked his leaking cock a few times, coating it with your sweet, precious arousal.

“Ohh,” you moaned, “Please, Captain, please.”

“Please what, hm?” A soft slap landed on your cheek, “Use your words.”

“Fuck me.”

Just as quickly as you had asked, Shanks had lined up the dark pink head against your slit and was rubbing it up and down your pussy, drawing small circles on your clit letting his precum leak out onto you.

“Perfect pussy,” he muttered, more to himself than to you, “Looks so cute painted white.”

You whined, and he made eye contact with you. It nearly broke him, to see you so desperate, so open for him. He realized, now, that you were his in every sense. Your body, your mind, your emotions and feelings– all his.

His head pushed into your hole, a tight fit at first, drawing some soft cries from you.

“Shhh, shh,” he said, “You’ll adjust.”

Once the head slipped past, the rest followed easily– Shanks had to hold himself back to avoid bottoming out in you at once.

The stretch was the most delicious pain you’d ever felt– even now, a year after you and your Captain first spent a night together it took you a minute to adjust yourself to his girth.

“I can take it,” you said, bringing a hand up to caress his cheek , “I can take all of you.”

He turned his head to kiss your hand, and lowered himself slowly onto you, kissing you with an unexpected restraint. He bottomed out in you, and your breath hitched.

“Breathe, baby, breathe.”

You took a breath, eyes shutting as he began to rock his hips slowly, sliding his full length in and out of you each time.

“Good girl, take me just like that,” he encouraged, “Look at me, bunny.”

You blinked your eyes open, tears pooling in the corners and he smiled at you.

“I love you,” he kissed your forehead, “I love you.”

He repeated it over and over, kissing a different part of your face each time, his dick throbbing and pulsing inside you as a smile began to form on your face and your cheeks darkened.

“You’re mine,” he said, “Only mine.”

Your lips parted to moan as he began to thrust faster in you, still blessing you with his full length every time. His sticky, swollen tip kissed the deepest parts of you and you could feel him in your tummy.

“Feels so full,” you muttered, “Don’t.. stop, please, daddy.”

Shanks groaned, you were addicting. He thanked the powers that be that you came to him as a human and not a siren for he would have not only fallen into your trap but willingly jumped to his death if it meant having you for even just a moment.

His pace was intoxicating, he had rendered you unable to form even a simple thought. Your brain was filled with the sounds of thick, wet slaps echoing in the room and the sweet musical moans that fell from your lips and his. His lips were on your neck, biting and sucking– harshly, this time. You were both close, the tell-tale sign with Shanks was when he finally shut up. So used to his teasing and jokes and wit were you that it was obvious when he was finally silent.

“Close, baby?” you asked

His eyes were shut in ecstasy and he gave a small nod as he panted.

“Cum inside me,” you whispered in his ear, running your tongue along the edge.

That was all it took.

A simple, dirty request from you (one he had indulged in many times before).

Almost on command, his hips began to stutter as he filled you with weeks’ worth of pent up sexual frustration. You moaned as you felt it dripping out of you before he had even pulled out.

Shanks collapsed onto you, kissing your cheeks and petting your head, “Let me drain everything into you, sweetheart. It’s yours, all yours.”

You hummed and kissed his forehead, speckled with sweat.

He lied there, on top of you for another few minutes, his cock twitching inside of you erratically.

When he had fully spent himself inside you he got up, slowly pulling out– an expression of hunger settling on his face as he watched himself pouring out of you.

It was almost as though you weren’t there, you felt like an intruder watching as he looked at your pussy, creamed and puffy.

He joined your ankles together in one hand and lifted your legs up to your chest, bending his head down toward your pussy.

“Ah- Shanks,” you whined.

He ignored you completely, placing his lips onto your pussy, licking and sucking his cum out of your hole. The feeling was indescribably indulgent. He gathered his cum into his mouth and bringing his head up a foot or so away from your pussy he slowly spit it out onto you, the liquid landing with a plap on your clit. You moaned, it was the filthiest thing you’d ever seen him do.

He let go of your legs, which you were now holding against your chest, and used his hand to slap your puffy, swollen pink pussy a few times, the cum making the slaps louder than usual. Smack, smack, smack.

Your body completely relaxed, entirely submissive to your Captain. You were his.

Shanks’ tongue found its way back to your clit, his fingers once again resuming their place from earlier. He slowly slipped in a third finger, shushing your (weak) protests.

In seconds your orgasm was approaching, fast and hard. You barely had time to let out a cry when a gush of liquid squirted out from your pussy, dousing Shanks’ face and hair. He growled into your pussy and kept going, earning a series of slutty whines from you as you came around him, hips bucking into his face and chest heaving.

“Shanks, too much, too much!”

He laughed against your pussy and placed one more kiss on your clit before pulling away.

His face was soaked, and you playfully pushed him away from you with your feet when he tried to kiss you.

He grabbed your ankle and pulled you toward him, earning a series of giggles from you as he scooped you up and rubbed his face all over you.

“Gross!” you whined, “You’re like a wet dog.”

He wiped his face with your discarded shirt before snatching you back up and lying down with you, face to face.

“You’re hard again, aren’t you.”

He chuckled, burning his face in your shoulder, “No.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“Only with you,” he confessed, sitting up, “C’mere.”

He pulled you into his lap, wrapping his arm firmly around your waist.

“I’m sorry,” he said, gently kissing you, “I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, okay? I promise.”

You cupped his face with your hands, scooting in on his lap closer to him, so your chests were touching, “I know. So am I. That guy… he doesn’t mean anything to me. I just wanted to make you jealous.”

“It worked,” he admitted, a sheepish smile settling on his face, “If I had drank any more I probably would have punched him.”

You smiled, surprising him, “Is it bad that I’d like to see you fight someone over me?”

He laughed, kissing you again, “No– and I will, if it ever comes to it.”

“So…”

“Hm.”

“What do we do now?”

“Well,” he glanced at the clock on his bedside, “It’s only eleven. Got another round in ya?”

You rolled your eyes, “I’ve got at least two more in me, but I’m talking about us.”

“Oh,” he said, smiling, “Didn’t I tell you my plan?”

You shook your head.

“We’ll get married.”

Your eyes widened and you smiled, “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down. Why don’t you ask me to be your girlfriend first.”

“Mm,” he pretended to think about it, “Not good enough. You’re my wife.”

You sighed, his cock was rubbing up against your pussy and you were quite ready for a second round.

“Alright,” you conceded, starting to grind your hips into his, “Let’s talk about it tomorrow morning.”

He caught onto your little game immediately, hands coming up to start groping at your tits, “Alright, sweetheart. Tomorrow morning. Nine o’clock. My bed.”

He winked at you and you smiled, your lips finding each other for the millionth time tonight.

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

516 notes · View notes

ridingtorohan · 7 months ago

Text

Moments of the Tulpar crew experiencing Hanahaki disease for the reader (pre-crash)

𓇻 content warning. no spoilers for the game. swansea's is left ambiguous if it's romantic or platonic. receiver's choice. jimmy's whole section is a warning; denial, mention of self-mutilation (not depicted), possessiveness, manipulation and implied sexual frustration. jimmy's ending line is not about sexual assault, he's just manipulative.

Hanahaki Disease

A condition that causes the victims to cough up flowers or flower petals, due to either unrequited love or repressed love for another person.

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Yellow Chrysanthemum- a deep love that cannot be spoken.

"You have your space legs," Curly says, voice a low rumble in his chest. His hand smooths over your shoulder, feeling the shift of muscle. Through the flightsuit, he could feel the rumble of your laughter.

"Six times the charm, right?" You smile with the glint of your teeth, head tipped back to peer up at him. Warmth and roots lodge in his chest, like tiny tendrils of leaves crawling through him. Like being tickled from the inside, a radiated warmth that resonated through his limbs. He loved to look at your smile, how your expression lit up the whole room.

Curly remembered when the two of you were paired together, with you fresh out of training and new to travel. How queasy it made most people feel, even with the artificial gravity. He'd been the same.

Blue eyes dart low, watched as Daisuke threw a uno reverse down, giddy in his seat.

You shout back and reveal one of your own. The conversation devolved then to a bickering match and culminated in Daisuke's sulky expression as he scrounged around for a green.

"You should join us, Curly," you said, eyes back on him.

Stems lodged in his throat, petals curled against soft muscle. A bloomed flower, ripe under your attentive gaze. Everything inside him blossomed at your every word, fragile and wanting in his mouth.

"In a minute. Piloting duties." As he excused himself with a clearing of his throat, he reluctantly pulled away from your side, only to let his eyes linger on your side profile. How easy you interacted with the other Tulpar crewmembers; Anya and Daisuke especially.

Swansea grumbled in his seat and through some barbaric display of betrayal, threw down a stack of +4's on top of Daisuke's green before announcing the new colour (green). The pivotal horror only increased as you slapped your own on top, just for Daisuke to hurriedly slap through the deck. ("We don't even have enough cards!")

It's a gentle feeling; being in love like this. Feeling connected in more ways than a captain should. Than a captain legally ought to. Still, it reached up, through his body, like an ache that needed to be fulfilled. Eyes that always followed you; the attentive way he spoke to you. Every bone in his body whispered love, love, love. I love you.

Pilot duties was just an excuse. Safe from the rec hall, Curly raised a fist to his mouth as his chest heaved. A wet, sticky yellow flower fell from his mouth, devotion spelled out to the bone.

Curly doesn't hate you for this. He's lived long enough to cradle the emotions as they come, to take the small chances when he could get it. A captain's duties didn't extend to fraternization.

As he held the flower between his fingers, he couldn't fault you at all. Not when you smiled at him - like the crew-- like that. He didn't expect his love to be returned; loving you was enough. Even like this.

Honeysuckle- devoted love, whose entwined vines represent the difficulty to escape its grasp

The insufferable itching was the worst of it. Each swelled muscle, bulge under his veins; Jimmy has half a mind to claw into his own skin. Tear the flowers right out from him, bloody and whole.

He'd rather feel anything but this, this unfathomable twitchy lurch in his chest. How you made his skin clammy and pulse skittered. Half of the time he wanted to throttle you, the other portion involved throwing you against the wall and devouring you right there.

Because something about you demanded that he take, stake a claim on his person. Outside of Curly, you were the only one able to placate him, to have a backbone and withstand his hurled words.

He didn't expect this twitch in his body, the tension that rattled through him like a freight train. Jimmy, on all accounts of everyone he's ever been with, didn't do soft. He didn't do sweet.

With you, it felt like the best and worst of him was brought out. A willingness to scoff and turn the other way - however begrudgingly. The way his temper flared, quick to rise on the offense and defense.

Red, sickly petals fall from his mouth, stems and roots attached. He's aware of the damned disease; felt it in every rock of his body. Every time his arm so much as touched yours. The inescapable draw, the sway of the boat, the chasm that roared to life inside him.

They tore like a mother up his throat and no amount of scratches at his skin lessened the torment. You have him wrapped right around his finger, drowned him in a pool of your own making.

Jimmy all but hated you for it; hated your sympathetic frowns, the way you so easily acted with the nurse and Daisuke. He's imagined it many times, his fist clenched around your wrist, his mouth on yours. How hot you'd feel against his skin.

The way you turned your head, how your mouth moved so easily, focus rapt on Swansea over some bullshit. Holed up on the sofa, electronic board between you. A better student than Daisuke was supposed to be.

Jimmy's eyes darted over your expression, the way your nose moved when you breathed, the swallow of your throat. Under the simulated forest screen, you looked captivating. Forest light over your eyes that highlighted your cheekbones.

That familiar spasm resonated in his chest again, wet, hot and sickly, and he spat it out, threw the squashed pink and orange blossom in his fingers, roots slick with blood. All that left to the ground as he stomped ahead, hands planted on the back of the sofa.

"Sure, electronic work is all hoorah, but how 'bout I show you some real skills in the pilot's chair?"

He's definitely one to boast, and with the way your eyes turned up, it sent another tremor through his chest. Eyes narrowed, a challenge left your lips, his eyes quick to follow the motion.

Swansea scoffed with a sneer. But who cared about him or his opinions?

When you finally relented, the rattle in his chest intensified, that ache to touch reigning fierce. While Curly's presence deterred any advances Jimmy could make on you, he'd eventually get you right where he wanted you.

Forget-me-nots- the pain of loss and desire to hold onto memories and love

Psych evals weren't Anya's favourite task by any means, but it had been another aspect of her career. One that she chose, one that she'd keep choosing again and again. A step closer to the actual job she wanted; one with different stresses, different bosses. More stability.

For all that it was considered, one aspect that she liked most was to learn about you. How you perceived the depicted situation, how your lips pursed when you were in thought. How your leg shifted, how you once paced the room.

More than once, she'd been distracted by the lull of your voice, the stride of your steps, how your tendons moved beneath your flight suit.

"Good." She says, the word airy in her mouth.

When you smile at her, it is blinding, enough to make her eyes dart away, heart tender in her chest. With you, everything just so much ... less. Less frightful, less stress. Less constant noise in her head. She could breathe around you, bursting a garden for you in her lungs with each stolen glance.

For her, passing the flowers were easy. Mostly petals at first, loose and velvety to the touch. Then whole ones, beautiful and pristine, a testament to their circumstances.

She didn't feel drawn to you, so much as drawn around your orbit; like the Earth around the Sun. A star that burned bright in her eyes. She'd always preferred sunrises.

As the nurse, Anya has been expected to pick up on traits of her patients; learn their allergies, habits. How to better help them. Who helped the nurse? Who helped her when her heart galloped, cheeks a fire when she looked at you?

You were sweet - tender, when most others would look away.

It felt like a baptism by fire.

"That's a cool flower," you breathed out, when the silence lapsed between you.

She startled, hand to her mouth - but your eyes are distant, focused on the bottle she kept on her desk. Not that bottle was an apt term; a tall cup was more appropriate. Keeping a flower without roots was difficult; but forget-me-nots was simple. Easy. Swaddled in water, pretty blue petals frame the glass lip. A testament to her affection for you.

The end of her pen tapped against the clipboard. "Thank you."

Now, your eyes turn to her, lidded with approval and warmth. Her flower garden grows. "I never knew we were allowed to keep flowers here."

A smile lit up her face, immediate and without hesitation. Your approval, however small, meant the world to her. It filled her with a sense of satisfaction, of belonging. Of knowledge that she'd be safe and secure with you, as she always has been.

"It's a special case."

Eyes turn back, admiring the pristine petals. "Still petty cool though. Adds nice colour to the room."

She smiled and her chest hurt with the admiration and affection that ran through her. An intensity that swooped through her, fierce and devoted. "Thank you. I'll be sure to add more next time." She would; anything to have you keep coming back to her little corner of the world, to see your eyes linger, even if not on her.

"Sounds great."

You both turn as Daisuke poked his head in, grin wide on his face. "Hey, guys." Brown eyes dart to you with a pointed, "Curly was looking for you." You nod, fingers on your coat lining as you adjusted it. Anya tried not to focus on it.

"We'll continue this later?" You ask her.

Anya's eyes turn to the forget-me-not, alone and perfect. Even though psych evals weren't a choice, this was. And she'd always keep choosing you. "Yes."

Rue - fragrant flower that is used to ward off evil spirits, representing courage, repentance and healing

Feet step over the small, fragile petals littered over the ground. No matter how many times Swansea swept them up, they clung to his clothes and followed him. Even now, they cluttered his workspace, with one ground to paste around a bolt.

"Looks like a chicken was killed here," comes your voice. Swansea's mouth twitched, upper lip pursed as he doubled over his work. Wiring was delicate work, after all, and he had to correct the mess that his intern made before it affected anything.

Fortunately, he was able to rewire the grid for the time being.

"Shit's tough if a little flowers gets every inch of you knotted up," he answered, voice gruff as flowers tickled his throat. With a twist of his mouth, he coughed, and with the ease of a man whose been through this before, spat the dry buggers out and away from his workspace.

He could all but hear the shrug as you say, "Doesn't bother me."

As he set aside his tool, he leaned over for the spool of electrician's wire. Your knuckles met him, warm flesh against weathered hands as you pass it to him. "Thanks." As he turned away from you, he coughed again, each petal little more than a nuisance.

All the same, you hovered beside him, head leaned over his shoulder as he toiled away. There was something soothing and mundane about it, the way your eyes drifted over his hands, faded tan lines not yet gone.

"You want something or you just like babying my work?"

From his peripheral, Swansea could see the twitch of your lips, the wry wrinkle in your brow. How your eyes turned away, roamed over the assortment of metals he has strewn about over his work table, only to linger on the equally as vast array of pale yellow.

Telling him to see Anya about his 'condition' hadn't helped the last time you brought it up. Swansea had more than enough experience to believe that it'd be here to stay, to ruminate among the other seedlings left behind in his chest. This one festered longer than the others, almost soft and delicate. How he dealt with it was the same.

But you were different from the rest.

"You know me, always wanting to admire your work." There's that cheeky grin he knows and he snorts in amusement. Even when it was followed by a short cough, he turned his focus back on the wires. When that was sorted through, he leaned back in his chair, brow sweaty with exertion.

"Alright, get it off yer chest and tell me what's up."

There's that twitch of your head he knew so well, the cock of your mouth and the side-glance of your eyes. Even as you leaned against his workstation, hip to the edge, every side of you rang with familiarity. Cramped together on a ship for six hauls did that to people; it was easy to know their body language, their mannerisms.

Easy to love.

Swansea's head tipped back, lips quirked and brow shifted in a beckoning motion. With a sigh, as you always did, you began your tirade about your latest frustration. Jimmy was at it again, a string of months long frustration bubbled out. Cards up his sleeve - literally--, the snide remarks, the open hostility. A point of contention that Swansea knew all too well.

"Want me to sock him a new left cheekbone?" In response, you laughed, eyes shut tight as you doubled over. No holds barred, genuine and true to the bone.

A facet of you that Swansea always liked; you had been upfront from the get-go, earnest in your attempts to befriend the crew. In mapping out the ship, glad for Swansea's guidance as he gave you the grand tour. A genuity that he hadn't seen for a long time, let alone directed at him.

Most people scoffed at his age, dismissive of the years toiled away in labour, dedicated on one task to the next. Where the two of you may have butted heads, you always bounced back, prepared for the next go. It had reminded him of himself, when he was younger. Now, it just reminded him of you.

While you all too gleefully admonished him for the offer, he didn't rescind it. Because for all the things he admired in you, you fostered it in him too. A drive to be himself, to rebound after the goings get tough. Wakeup calls weren't as pleasant as your company, but for now he'd take what he could get.

Even if the flowers got in the way of it all.

Dahlia- representing sacrifice and endurance needed to thrive in harsh conditions as well as gratitude and commitment

His leg is stationary, twitching every so often against the table. Daisuke has already knocked over a few Sorry! pieces, not that he had much problem with that - Swansea was winning anyway.

The tv screen before you two was awash in a golden haze, a sun over a distant horizon, washing the sea in light. It's picturesque, letting him ruminate in the thoughts with a hazy feeling in his chest.

He's never quite been in love like this before, this upbeat, yawning, yearning chasm inside him. Where every touch gives him the jitters, where he just wants to wrap you up in his gangly arms and hold onto you forever.

He's never been in love where it aches, like flowers rooting in his blood. Out of everyone, he knows more than enough about the condition that saunters in his body; seen it enough times on his sisters. A hereditory predisposition, he somehow never grasped that he'd get it.

Not once did it ever feel wrong, like this was a burden. A phantom ache, it reached into his lungs and nestled there. He had seen the pink petals fall into his palms and he knew, 'this is love'. When he saw your face, felt his heart patter in his chest, he knew, 'this is love'.

Each time he opened his mouth, slid a packet of extra sweetener your way, he felt it. Just as he felt it now, resting low in his chest, stems of dahlias woven into his hair. Out of everything, he'll always be proud of it, of what you've given him. This life that throbs inside of him, the moments that never seem to pass.

Even though you've expressed concern whenever Daisuke coughed up a fresh one - whenever your shoulders so much as touched-- he was glad for it. Glad for how your leg shifted against his now, your arm all but crushing his. How you two are folded together, your eyes glued to the peaceful scene on the screen, while all Daisuke can think about is watching you.

How the light dances over your cheekbones, over your nose. How you nestle against him like you can't pry yourself away, thigh to thigh and shoulder to shoulder. As restless and ansty as he tended to be, he felt solid and complete right beside you.

"That is not what your book says," is what you say as your mouth twitched upwards, eyes crinkling at the corners as you look at him. Each glance has him grin and he felt like a kid again, one who learned how to draw again for the first time.

"It is so!" He chirped with a dramatic wave of the electrical book that Swansea had given him. "It is hella in here! Thomas Edison totally got the idea of the lightbulb from the flowers that wove around it!"

And you laugh, that sound that sent shivers right down to his bones and he grinned and echoed, unashamed of how he sounds, his heart and inner garden close to bursting.

"No way! I've read that book! He isn't even in there!" You smacked his shoulder and he doubled over, sides pressed to yours as he dramatically flourishes it closer.

"Is so!" He pointedly tapped his index finger to the paragraph he was on. As you squint through the dim light, he could already tell by your furrowed brow and rolled eyes that you had skimmed the page. Even as you jostled his shoulder, he laughed.

"Am I right or am I right?" He laughed.

"It's not in there!"

"It might as well be!"

Even as your laughter chorused together, he found himself all too eager to slide back up against you, the book propped up in his arm as he showed off the page. "...and he totally, radically, found purple petals. The end!" He concluded his paragraph. It was worth the elbow to the gut and the hard laughter. Because it was coming from you. It was all you.

"You said orange flowers last time!" You admonish, almost under your breath before you laugh, "But alright, go on then. Read the rest of it if you're so sure of it!" With a wide grin, he did, even when you rolled your eyes at his random embellishments, or when he completely derailed and started to rant about the invention of pizza.

For each moment that lingered between you two, it felt easy. It felt safe. Even when you gave up and grasped the book from his hands, when your knuckles touched and electricity wound under his skin, he knew it to be true.

As your hands drew out the flower bookmark he kept, half-squashed between the pages, he caught it as you set it down.

For every failure that he felt he cropped up in life, this certainly wasn't it; this was something made with love, with passion, with something that he had avidly searched for as he grew up.

When he tucked the flower into your hair, he listened to the ramble of your words as you scanned through the paragraphs - the proper ones-- and watched the light of the screen reflect across your eyes.

This is the feeling that Daisuke knew best; this burning, smoldering affection that rested inside his chest. This was as close as he'd get to feeling 'home' without returning to Earth, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing x y/n #mouthwashing x reader #curly x reader #curly x y/n #captain curly x reader #jimmy x reader #jimmy x y/n #anya x reader #anya x y/n #swansea x reader #swansea x y/n #daisuke x reader #daisuke x y/n #// jimmy's flower is also a homage to the apollo myth #// I was (fingers not even an inch apart) this close to almost writing post-crash stuff (aka deaths)#// daisuke's love is puppy while everyone else is v mature #// can confirm daisuke 100% wears the flowers in his hair #queue

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tojisun · 10 months ago

Note

price having to shove his fingers into gaz’s mouth whenever you let him cum inside you because of how loud he starts whimpering

im a mess on the floor that someones gotta mop me off atp!!

kyle’s in between john’s legs, his back pressed flush on his captain’s front, while you have been a marvel before them—riding kyle while john pets your lover throughout, callused fingers flicking at kyle’s pretty nipples, softly tugging at the jewelled piercings he’s got on. they glint with every fractured light, and john had been infatuated, unable to put his paws away.

kyle’s nipples are pebbled, sensitive, and john tugs at the rings again in tandem with every of your bounce—thighs shaking, your own tits a wild distraction, and your manicured nails flicking at your clit because kyle’s gone slack, unable to do it for you now that he’s oversensitive.

one particular thrust bumps his cock against your walls and you wail, almost toppling over. you had to stop, trying to breathe through the deep press of his length, its cockhead thick and breaching, your hole spasming around him. but your cunt is soft, drenched, and feverishly hot, and kyle is losing his hold. his orgasm peaks—

then it breaks.

he lets out a deep groan as he cums, his voice is a heavy reverb, and john has to stuff his fingers in your beloved’s mouth to keep him quiet. no one would hear, truly, not with how far and private john’s quarters are, but it is such a dizzying idea—john plugging up kyle to shut him up—so he does it, almost in a daze. he digs his fingers into kyle’s tongue, feels the vibration of his moans rippling from the inside of kyle’s mouth, and placates your wailing lover with nuzzling kisses.

“shh, little bird,” john murmurs. “be quiet f’me, won’t you?” kyle gargles something unintelligible and john chuckles, fully endeared.

he flicks his eyes up to you, asking despite the silence. you’ve yet to cum and being pumped full of kyle’s seed has made you increasingly needy, razing your body with pinpricks of desire that is so ever-bloating, but you wait quietly, obediently, knowing that your captain will be the one to take you until you are weeping and begging for a reprieve.

(the three of you know, anyway, that ever since your escapade with the captain, no one else could make you cum because there is no one that can replicate his… dominance, sure, but mostly his presence. how it’s so overwhelming and intoxicating; terrifying, almost, with how you always felt irrevocably small before him. how you felt so seen no matter how much you try to shield yourself from his eyes.

john fills you up, in a way that is more than a weeping cock. he fills up that gaping chasm within you that aches for someone to—

well—

to take over. to take care of you.

to possess you.)

john’s other hand is still massaging your hip, a gentle sort of appreciation, so you take over the worship done to kyle’s chest; kiss-swollen lips peck at his buds, before pearly teeth tug at the barbells.

kyle jumps, lurching, and john has to restrain him again. you giggle, a little breathless thing, because another weak spurt fills you up, kyle’s cock pulsating throughout.

god, you want more.

#anon #john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john price #kyle gaz garrick #price x gaz #f!reader #ask #suns

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callalillywrites · 28 days ago

Text

Starved for You

Written for @steverogersbingo. D3 - Touch starved.

Steve Rogers Masterlist | Steve Rogers Bingo | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count: 728

Summary: Steve never believed himself to be touch starved. At least until he met you. Then, he became addicted, always wanting more.

Warnings: not much; mostly fluff and self-awareness on Steve's part

I do not give permission to have my works copied, translated, reposted, or fed into an AI machine.

****

Steve would never admit that he missed being touched.

He definitely wouldn't admit that he was a little starved for a loving touch or even a simple touch that most would take for granted.

No, he wouldn't.

He wouldn't.

Yet, he really wanted your touch.

No, that wasn't quite right.

He craved your touch.

He found excuses to get your hands on him anyway he could manage it.

This didn't go unnoticed by any of the Avengers, either.

Well, almost any of the Avengers.

You never seemed to notice how much he craved and sought out your touch.

No, you were the sweetest person on this planet, happy to give him whatever he needed without hesitation. It was just your nature to be so tactile with others, and that included one Steve Rogers.

It had all started innocently enough.

He'd been injured during a mission. Nothing major, just a cut along the shoulder and across his cheek.

Thought nothing of it really, too.

Well, he didn't until you spotted him when he entered the common room.

You'd jumped up from where you'd been reading the latest from your favorite author, gasping at the two streaks marring his otherwise unblemished skin.

One of your hands grabbed his chin, tilting his face one way or another. No doubt trying to see the cut on his cheek at every possible angle. The other hand stayed on his uninjured shoulder, keeping him from moving away.

While he could feel the firmness of your grip, you soon surprised him with letting his chin go and running a finger beneath the cut. It'd been such a soft touch that he almost missed it. If not for the way his nerves lit up, he would've.

You refused to let him go, either, until you'd cleaned him up and put bandages, unnecessary as they were, on his cuts.

You insisted on it, moving him backward until his butt landed in one of the bar chairs near Tony's extravagant bar. One finger came into his line of sight as you commanded, "Don't move. I'll be right back with the first aid kit."

He didn't dare move, either.

Maybe he couldn't move.

You'd certainly seemed to paralyze him with a single, simple touch.

The clean up proved easy enough.

Soon enough, he sported two Captain America-themed bandages, leftovers from a kid-friendly event you'd helped to organize, where he'd been cut. They'd be gone by morning as the serum would've done its job by then.

What wouldn't be gone, however, was the way your touch unlocked something within him. Something he hadn't thought he'd missed until you took such sweet care of him. Your gentleness and your warmth infused him in ways that he hadn't felt since before going into the ice. Maybe ever.

He'd decided to ignore it.

He really did try anyway.

The next time you touched him happened at a gala event that Tony insisted they host at the Tower.

Tony himself had shooed Steve towards the dance floor with your hand wrapped up in his. He refused to let Steve leave until he had at least one dance that evening, tired of seeing Steve sitting on the sidelines.

You'd felt right in his arms, too.

That'd been the worst and best parts.

It turned that switch again in his mind. The same one he'd decided to ignore after you patched him up. Made it harder to want to ignore how much you affected him.

Two songs later and he finally let you go.

That had been the hardest part for him.

After that, he couldn't ignore what he needed, what he wanted. He sought you out for every little cut and scrape. You patched him up just like the first time. Your fingers never straying from their gentle purpose until he felt better.

Every time he had a rough day, he'd find you and let you play with his hair.

Oh, that'd been a heaven he hadn't even known he was missing. He'd heard stories from Bucky and a few of the others, but he'd never experienced it until you. After that, he had more 'bad' days just for the excuse of having you twirl his growing locks and scraping his scalp soothingly with your nails.

He had it bad, and he didn't even care.

As long as it was your touch, he'd never care.

#steve rogers bingo #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #marvel mcu #mcu #touch starved #steve finds comfort in your touch #needy Steve

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beckyninja · 7 months ago

Text

Relief

Pairing: Demetrian Titus x FemReader

Warnings: talk of periods, sexual content, MDNI

Description: Titus "helps" his serf lover through a particularly painful time of the month.

Forget whatever I said about my last fic. This one is definitely the spiciest thing I've ever written! I had planned on something entirely different, but then "that time of the month" reared its ugly head. And suddenly all I could think about was having a strong, handsome Astartes to help me through it.

Titus didn’t sprint, though he wanted to.

After enduring the ominous warnings of the Chaplain, the disdain of Captain Acheran, and the incessant prying of his new squad (not to mention the small matter of a tyranid invasion), he longed for the solace of your presence.

Your touch.

Rage still burned like promethium within him when he remembered entering his quarters to find you half-starved.

“You’re alive.” You’d whispered upon seeing him. “You’re alive.”

When I find the one responsible for her suffering….

His growl sent several serfs darting out of his path. He walked faster and, at last, the door to his quarters came into view. Soon, he would have you in his arms.

Saliva pooled in his mouth at the thought.

The first time he lay with you, before Kadaku and his remaking, had been beyond his imaginings. Baseline anatomy lessons from his neophyte days supplied the rudiments. But he had the Space Wolves and a solitary Salamander he’d met in the Death Watch to thank for the rest.

He’d encountered the former boasting of their conquests one evening in the dining hall after one of them had smuggled in a few barrels of foul-smelling mjod. As they grew more intoxicated, they delighted in shocking the more puritanical Astartes in the Watch with detailed descriptions of “fraternization”.

Titus remembered being repulsed at first. Though, against his better instincts, that repulsion soon turned to wary curiosity.

While the Wolves howled about conquering and claiming, a Salamander Apothecary had taken a seat next to Titus and shaken his head.

“Not all baseline females are the wild she-wolves of Fenris.” The old drake had rumbled quietly. “If an Astartes is blessed with the affections of a woman, he should cherish her with gentleness, for she is rare and precious.”

Titus remembered a sorrowful look in the veteran’s red eyes as he spoke, and the way he stroked a bone reliquary tied at his waist.

He had tried to incorporate all he’d overheard into your union. You’d been so fragile in his hands, so vulnerable. And when your body welcomed him inside. When, amidst the white heat of his own ecstasy, he saw you gaze up at him….

Throne of Terra, I would slaughter every tyranid in the Hive Fleet to have you look at me like that always.

He punched his code into the access panel. He only had a few hours of leisure to spare, and a third of that had already been taken up in removing his armor. But he needed to feel your skin upon his again.

The door hissed open and-

Blood.

Every enhanced sense he possessed sharpened to a razor’s edge as the metallic scent filled his nostrils. Unlike before, when his mind had been clouded by sleep, he knew with absolute certainty this blood came from your body.

The room was empty. Half the candles lit. One smoking tapir on its side by the cot. Indents on the mattress the size of small baseline hands. Drops of red on the floor. The sharp taste of stress and pain chemicals. Soft whimpers from the lavatory.

All this came to him in the time between heartbeats. Another heartbeat and he stood before the closed lavatory door.

“Little Healer?”

The medicae had said you would be fine. An injection of nutrients, a high calorie meal, and rest. You already looked better when he left you in the infirmary. They said you would be fine.

He’d had to leave. He had no choice. They said you would be fine!

“Demetrian?”

Conscious and able to speak. He leaned his forehead against the cold metal of the door.

“I am coming in.”

A sharp gasp. “No! Just, just give me a moment, please.”

He heard pain in your voice. His instincts screamed at him to tear through the metal to reach you.

The door slid open.

Pale skin. Sweat beads on your forehead. Hunched shoulders. You smiled up at him, but reeked of misery.

He scooped you into his arms. “We are returning to the infirmary.”

“Demetrian-”

“You are still unwell.”

“Demetrian, please-”

He strode toward the door of his quarters. “Or did you injure yourself?”

“No, Demetrian! Listen-”

“I should not have left you alone.”

A tiny fist bounced off his jaw. He stopped mid-stride and looked down at you in shock. You looked back at him, then down at your clenched fist, seemingly stunned by your own actions.

“I…I…,” you closed your eyes and breathed deeply, “I’m sorry, my lord. I don’t know what came over me.”

“My lord?” He muttered.

“Please put me down. I’m not unwell. And I’m not injured.”

He scowled. “You reek of blood, woman.”

Throne, has whatever hurt she suffered affected her mind as well?

“I know, but it��s…it’s natural, Demetrian.”

The Warp it is. “Explain.”

She sighed. “Can you put me down first? Please?”

“No.”

He tightened his grip. If her mind was unbalanced, who knows what she might do if he released her.

Another sigh. “Fine. Once a month, a woman’s body undergoes a certain process….”

He remained silent during her entire explanation. When she finished, he carefully set her upon his cot.

“And this…cycle…causes pain?”

“Every woman experiences it differently. Some only ever feel mild discomfort, for others it’s little short of agony.”

You bit your lip. The pain smell spiked and, with it, his concern.

“Why have I not noticed before?”

You breathed slowly now, in through your nose, out through your mouth. “You’ve always been on mission during this time. And…agh…in the Watch Fortress, Lord Apothecary Nev’ran made sure to set pain suppressants aside for us female serfs.”

The old Salamander always had a soft spot for the baselines, Titus remembered.

A low moan drew his attention back to you. You folded on his cot, arms wrapped around your midsection.

His fingers twitched, automatically seeking a weapon. The instinct to destroy whatever caused you pain surged. He needed to fix this.

“Did you request pain suppressants from the medica?”

You started rocking slightly. “I…tried. He said they were unnecessary and dismissed me. I didn’t dare argue. In the Fortress, there were serfs I could go to for help during this time.” You looked up at him with a tight smile. “But I’m beginning to think I’m the only woman on this ship.”

Titus thought back over the last few days, and all the baseline crew he’d encountered.

She may be right.

“Oh Emperor….”

Your whimper felt like another Carnifex talon through his chest.

“There must be something I can do.” He knelt before you, cupping your face in his hand. “Anything.”

You pressed against him. “Heat. Heat sometimes helps.”

He let you move his hand to your lower stomach. You opened your robes and pressed it against your skin.

“And, on my back, please?”

Before you’d even finished asking, he slipped his other hand in and around. You gripped his arms and whined.

“Oh, oh yes.”

He shouldn’t be aroused by this. You were still in pain. But your soft sounds of helplessness, the feel of your skin beneath his hands, the way you trembled. All of it called to a primal part of him only recently awakened.

And when you looked up at him in wonder and said, “You’re…you’re so much bigger now.”

Throne damn it.

Titus yanked you to him and took your mouth. You yelped, but did not struggle, instead throwing your hands around his neck and digging your fingers into the hair at his nape. He snarled at the sensation, pushing his tongue past your lips like you’d shown him that first night.

This time your moan sounded of pleasure.

He pressed his body against you, lowering you to your back on the cot. Your hands left his neck and fluttered against his chest. You pulled away from his kiss.

“Demetrian….”

He pressed his mouth to your throat, laving it with his tongue and tasting your sweat. He searched for a spot he could bite without leaving a visible mark.

“Demetrian, stop!”

The magnitude of his selfishness crashed upon him.

“Throne. Forgive me, Little Healer.” Reeling back, he searched your face for any sign of pain. “I…I did not think, I…,” he raked a hand over his face, desperately trying to rein in his baser instincts.

“It’s all right. It’s just, now might not be the best time.”

“Would it cause you more pain?”

A blush spread across your cheeks. “Um…no, that’s not it. In fact, some women say…this…actually helps.”

“Truly?”

Desire welled within him once more, washing away any lingering guilt. He bracketed your small body with his hands and loomed over you.

“Then why should I stop?” You turned your face away, but he gently grasped your chin. “Look at me, and tell me why.”

“It, it,” he heard your heart beating wildly, “it could get a bit…messy.”

He blinked, then allowed a slow smile to spread across his face. “Woman, when has an Astartes ever shied away from the sight of blood?”

A new smell met his nose, one he had only recently become familiar with. He lowered his face close to yours and inhaled deeply.

“You want this as much as I.”

You nodded frantically, hands suddenly pawing at his collar. “Yes! I want this. Please, Demetrian. Please, please, please!”

He tore his robe open and flung it to the floor. Your clothing swiftly followed. The scent of blood and arousal maddened him. He tried to pull your thighs around him, but you winced at the stretch.

For the first time he cursed the Primaris surgery. Grasping your hips, he turned you on to your front and settled behind you. He ran his hands down your back and sides, loving the way you trembled.

“Are you ready for me, my love?”

You pushed back against him. “Please, Demetrian.”

He thrust and your wet heat welcomed him in. His eyes rolled at the sensation, still so unlike anything he ever thought he’d experience. You cried out far louder than you had the first time.

“Demetrian! S-so big…!”

Again. Again. Again, he thrust. In this position he felt powerful, primal. Like a beast claiming its mate.

The Wolves were right, damn them!

All at once, you tightened and screamed. With a growl he followed you over the edge.

You collapsed onto your front. “Please…more….”

The first time, he’d only taken you once, denying his satisfaction for the sake of your overwhelmed little body. But now you begged him to continue. Who was he to refuse?

Three more times he released deep within. He pressed himself to your back, hand fondling your breasts as he pounded relentlessly. He lost count of how many times you shook apart around him. His own blinding pleasure paled in comparison to the knowledge that his actions relieved your pain.

A tool designed to inflict suffering on others, but he brought you ecstasy.

“D-Demetrian…,” you whimpered.

His fingers dug into the bruised flesh of your hips. “One more.”

You wailed as he filled you one last time, arching his spine to sink his teeth into your shoulder. Then he collapsed on his side.

He caressed your sweat-streaked back, allowing himself a brief moment to revel in the haze of pleasure. You lay still and panting next to him.

“Are you well, my love?”

“Mmmm.”

By now, he recognized the sound of bone-deep satisfaction. He smiled down at you, already feeling his own body recovering.

“You were right about one thing.”

“Mmm?”

“That was rather messy.”

You turned your head and attempted to glare at him. He chuckled, rose, and fetched a wet cloth from the lavatory. Ignoring your reaching hands, he cleaned the both of you. Then he sat on the edge of the cot and lifted you into his arms.

“Better?”

Your dreamy smile answered him. An entirely different kind of heat warmed his hearts as he cradled you. He ran a thumb over the imprint of teeth on your shoulder.

“I was not too rough?”

“You were perfect.” Your hands traced his new scars. “Throne of Terra, I came so close to losing you, didn’t I?”

He heard tears in your voice and held you closer.

“I’m sorry.” You sniffled. “Another side effect of this time. I tend to turn into something of a weepy, clingy mess.”

“I enjoy your clinging.”

“But you need to go.”

“Yes.” As always, your respite, brief as it was, left him better prepared to handle the weight of his duty. “Will you be alright?”

“You have enough trouble without worrying about me, Demetrian. Human women have endured since our species began. I’ll be fine.” Your smile flickered. “Please, be safe. I love you.”

“And I you.” He pulled his robe back on and leaned down to kiss you once more. “I will return.”

And, I swear, I will find another way to ease your pain.

***

An hour passed. You rested for a bit, then dressed and cleaned yourself more thoroughly. You stripped the sheets from the mattress and prepared for the trek to the laundry and then the serf’s dining hall. Not only had Titus's attentions eased your cramps, but you thought you might actually have an appetite again.

Just as you were about to leave, a few sharp raps sounded at the door.

“Who…?”

You opened it to find a slight young woman with a face full of freckles and a satchel over one shoulder. Her robes marked her as a serf and a medica.

“Thank the Emperor!” She gushed. “I was afraid I’d gotten the wrong room!”

“Um. Hello?”

“My name is Vesta. I was just transferred here alongside my Lord Callistus. He’s supplementing the Apothecaries already in residence, you know. I was afraid I’d be the only woman! There are so few of us serving on the battle barges.”

You blinked, head-spinning from the rapid-fire chatter. “I see?”

She continued, stepping straight past you into the room. “I was just on my way back to the infirmary, when this massive Primaris Lord Angel barreled down on me. How fearsome he was! I don’t need to tell you I was terrified I’d done something wrong, and on my first day on a new ship, too! But he said you were experiencing some difficulties and needed assistance.”

Oh, Demetrian…. You fought a smile.

Vesta plopped the satchel on the cot. “I have pain suppressants, cleansing cloths, sanitary napkins. I do hope I brought enough.”

“This is incredibly kind of you.”

“Us women have to stick together, right?” She smiled cheerfully. “I hope we’ll be great friends!”

You found yourself warming to her effervescence. “I would like that.”

“You’re so fortunate to have a Lord Angel who’s attentive to your needs!”

You turned away, suddenly all too aware of the pleasant ache between your thighs. “Yes. I am.”

@remembrancer-of-heresy @solspina @sleepyfan-blog @moodymisty @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@bispecsual @kit-williams @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @adhd-fandom-hyperfocus @lemon-russ

@justeverythingnothingelse @scriberye @bleedingichorhearts @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @mooniequeen

@passionofthesith @noncon-photobomb @sinistermojo @b-rabbitboss @vyzz-undercover

@missmannequin @rivalriotrenegade @iloveoutlinesiswear @jaghatai-khock

If you enjoy my writing, check out the rest of the stuff on my Masterlist.

#warhammer 40k #demetrian titus #demetrian titus x reader #space marine #space marine x reader #space marine x serf #ultramarines #dear god i love this man

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revelboo · 9 months ago

Text

Invisible Monsters

MTMTE Megatron x Reader- therapy

18+ 🌶️

• Megatron is just tired. And over it. It being Rodimus. The co-captain currently on the bridge singing off key to whatever Earth music Swerve had spliced into the ship wide comm as Megatron slowly vents and reminds himself that he’s a pacifist now. So he can’t strangle Rodimus. Or push him out an airlock. Rising from his seat, he heads deeper into the ship. Toward the most irritating part of his day.

• And if it’s not Rodimus slowly trying to drive him insane, there’s always the rest of the crew. Especially Whirl. That one he can push out an airlock and he suspects everyone might clap. It doesn’t matter that they’re on a mission. An important mission. Unfortunately, this crew of misfits and pure chaos is always one second from shenanigans. His Decepticons had never been this bad.

• The latest shenanigan being a human that is now just on the ship. No one knew where it came from. Or, more likely, no one wants to admit that they had smuggled it on board at some point along the way. Which only raises more questions. Questions he isn’t interested in dealing with.

• Like whatever this is. Swallowing a groan, his optics slide from Rung to the human. More specifically the bright yellow vest the human is now wearing that declares in Cybertronian ‘Therapy Human.’ “Why?”

• Little face tipping up toward him at his deep voice, the human’s legs swing, heels thumping on the shelf Rung has perched it on. “Humans use lesser mammals for therapy. The contact is soothing to patients,” Rung says in Cybertronian.

• Ah. So the human has no idea what the vest says or what Rung has roped it into. Optics narrowing, he shakes his head and wonders what exactly Rung had told it. The mech was honest to a fault, so he wouldn’t have lied to it. Not exactly, anyway.

• “I believe we were discussing the gladiator pits of Kaon last time?” Rung adds in that infuriatingly soothing tone, crooking a servo at the human who obediently slides down from its seat to approach.

• And it’s accept the human as Rung scoops it up and thrusts it at him or let it fall and probably break all its tiny bones. So he cups his hands around it, hearing its sharp intake of breath and the strange feel of those tiny, soft hands touching his. “This is ridiculous.”

• “Humor me this one time. Now. Kaon?” Rung’s staring at him, his lips faintly curling into an almost smile. Waiting patiently.

• Heart racing, you settle yourself against the palm under you, neck craning to peek through the gaps in the servos caged over her. The first time you’d been handed to Whirl, he’d grasped you around the waist in those pinchers and amused himself by tipping you back and forth as he’d talked. It’d been a miracle you hadn’t hurled on him. The former warlord is at least being gentle.

• And his deep voice rolls over you, painting a grim picture of a brutal world you’ll never know. Of fighting for his life, heart-wrenching pain, and hard won victory. He sounds almost wistful as he reminisces, letting Rung’s questions steer the story. The first slide of a servo across your shoulders makes you stiffen for a heartbeat before you relax into the absent minded touch. You’re not under any delusions about your role. Playing therapy doggie for giant, alien robots wasn’t exactly dignified, but you didn’t mind.

#transformers #megatron x reader #megatron

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tltfu · 30 days ago

Note

Imagine, one day cat! Reader followed haruka to the school without his knowing, when they arrived at his school he meet nirei and suo.

At first suo stared at the cat!reader who is peeking behind the gate, he didn't know that cat! Reader is following sakura he just think the cat just a ordinary cat who is just stared at something that interest it. When they arrived at their class sakura is sitting at his seat, meanwhile cat!reader is outside the Classroom door want to open the door but can't do it.

The cat meowing, the voice became louder to get anyone notice it. Then came enamoto, kusumi and kaji who came to the class for the class president vote.

They stared at the cat shock that a cat is inside bofurin's school, kusumi just pick up the cat. And then they bring the cat, sakura who is familiar with the cat is in shock that cat!reader follow him to school.

Kiryuu is having cute aggression because of how cute cat!reader is.

💀 I love your writing ❤ can't wait to read the next part

A Cat in the gang…?

…in which cat!reader decides to follow our Cat magnet to school.

Part 2 of this!

Haruka lived close to Furin, so his mornings usually consisted of:

waking up.

washing his face in the sink.

changing to his uniform.

getting out of the door.

(maybe) go to Pothos.

…that's it, really.

Today is just like any other one of those days.

…or is it?

What he didn't notice was how a furry friend followed him alllll the way to Furin.

The first person to notice the cat was Suo. He raised a brow at it, but let it slide for the time being. It could be merely another stray cat roaming the streets.

Little did Suo know that the stray cat had a purpose to wander into the school.

The second time the cat was noticed was when the door to class 1-1 was (rudely) slammed in its face. The initial instinct was to scratch at the movable wall, but when that didn't work, it ended up having to loudly meow at the terrifying door to scare it away.

…well, that wasn't working.

But it DID work to get some help from other humans.

Three second years had been meaning to help class 1-1 choose their class captain, but instead found this adorable kitten outside the door.

“You rrrrrreally want to go in therrrre, Kitty?” Enomoto mused as he saw Kusumi pick it up, opening the door to enter the room-

Only for the cat to squirm out of Kusumi's hold right when the door opened.

It landed on the floor silently amidst the chaos, tail happily swishing as it padded over to Haruka and rubbed against his leg with a soft little “meow!”

Just begging to be picked up and coddled.

“Ohhh, so that's why I saw a cat at the school gates earlier. You should've told us that you have a cat, Sakura-kun.” Suo chuckled as the black-and-white-haired boy's face turned a beautiful shade of scarlet after cycling through a few shades of pink.

“I…I- How did you get here!?” Despite the embarrassment, Haruka managed to pick up the cat and give it belly rubs. Its gentle purrs were too adorable NOT to… and how its ears were turned backward, eyes closed, like it was living the best life ever.

No one has ever seen Sakura like this before. So… gentle.

It's obvious that he hasn't given up on the topic of giving and receiving affection… just not from humans.

Silence filled the room.

Painful, yet not awkward silence.

…until a squeal pierced the peace.

“Kyaaaaaa! I didn't know Sakura-kun was a cat whisperer~”

Oh, it was Kiryu.

“It even looks like you! Aaaaaa, so cute~”

Kiryu reached out to pet the cat, only to get hissed at for invading its personal space.

“Oh? You don't like being pet?... but you're letting Sakura pet you!”

The cat stared into his eyes for a good 3 seconds before its eyes closed once more, ignoring the (now sulking) teen.

Haruka felt a small smile creeping at his lips, but he forced himself to keep a stoic face as he continued showering the cat with affection.

“Neko-chan.”

“Huh???”

“Her name is Neko-chan. Let it get used to your scent before trying to pet her… she isn't really cuddly.”

Thanks for reading!!! <3

Maybe part 3?

Don't got any ideas though.

Written by tltfu.

#wind breaker #sakura haruka #wbk sakura #wbk sakura x reader #wind breaker x reader #sakura haruka x reader #windbreaker x reader #sakura haruka x reader fluff #windbreaker #wbk x reader #tltfu #meow

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tinyshyteacup · 1 month ago

Text

Taglist: @kellynickelsgirl00 @dixonsbridexx @yikes-myguy @blackwidownat2814 @euqsia @lliteratii @imadisneyprincessiswear @satata @smashleywow @misspendragonsworld @captain-shannon-becker @i-doutt-it

-------------------------------------------

TW: cussing, early seasons Daryl, angst, descriptions of walkers (Zombies) , firearms, Shane is creepy (and maybe slightly ooc ?), mentions of abuse, fire.

Part 6

Dead Weight - Part 7

The morning dawned bright and clear, painfully beautiful in its normalcy.

You were helping Patricia hang laundry when Shane came storming across the field, his face twisted with purpose, Rick trailing behind him looking equally determined but more controlled.

The sun beat down on your shoulders as you watched Shane march toward the barn, a shotgun clutched in his white-knuckled grip.

"Shane!" Rick's voice carried across the field. "This isn't your call to make!"

But Shane was beyond listening.

The tension that had been building for days—between Rick and Shane, between the group and Hershel's family over their stay on the farm—was finally boiling over.

You abandoned the half-hung sheet, following the commotion as the rest of the group emerged from various parts of the property, drawn by the shouting.

"You want to talk about safety, Rick?" Shane was yelling now, his voice echoing across the previously peaceful farmland.

"These things ain't sick! They ain't people! They're dead!"

You arrived just as Shane reached the barn doors, the heavy padlock gleaming in the sunlight. The group gathered in a loose semicircle—Glen looking guilty, Dale horrified, Andrea uncertain.

Daryl stood slightly apart, crossbow slung over his shoulder, eyes narrowed against the glare of the sun. His gaze briefly met yours before sliding away, his expression unreadable.

"Shane, just stop!" Rick commanded, but Shane was already pounding on the barn door with the butt of his gun.

"Hey! You want to survive?" Shane shouted, turning to address the group.

"Fight for it! Right here, right now!"

The barn doors rattled ominously, and for the first time, you heard it—the unmistakable growls and shuffling from within.

Your blood ran cold as understanding dawned.

Hershel had been keeping walkers in the barn.

Shane's face contorted with a savage kind of triumph as he turned back to the doors, smashing the lock with frenzied determination.

The metal gave way with a shriek of protest, and Shane stepped back, raising his gun.

"No!" Hershel cried out, falling to his knees as the doors creaked open.

What followed was a nightmare in broad daylight.

The walkers emerged one by one, stumbling into the sunlight, their decayed faces a grotesque contrast to the idyllic backdrop of the farm.

The stench hit you immediately—that sickly-sweet smell of death that never quite left your nostrils these days.

Shane fired first, the sound so loud it made your ears ring.

Then Andrea, T-Dog.

One by one, the group raised their weapons, forming a firing line as the dead continued to pour out of the barn.

You stood frozen, unable to move as the bodies fell. Each shot, each thud of a corpse hitting the ground, sent tremors through your body.

These had been people once—someone's family, someone's friends. And now they were just being exterminated.

Your eyes found Daryl in the chaos.

He'd moved to the front of the group, his stance wide and stable as he fired with deadly precision.

His face was set in grim determination.

This was methodical, necessary work to him.

When the last walker fell, an eerie silence descended over the farm. The air smelled of gunpowder and decay, and everyone stood still, processing what had just happened.

Then came the sound—a soft, almost gentle growling from within the darkness of the barn. One final figure emerged, small and frail, shuffling on unsteady legs.

Carol's broken whisper cut through the silence like a knife.

"Sophia?"

The little girl you'd all been searching for—the little girl Daryl had nearly died trying to find—stood before you all, transformed into one of the monsters they'd been fighting.

Her once-blonde hair was matted with dirt and blood, her small body ravaged by decay.

But worst of all were her eyes—milky white and devoid of recognition as she growled, reaching forward with grasping hands.

Your gaze snapped to Daryl just in time to see his expression crumple. For a brief, unguarded moment, raw anguish crossed his features before he lunged forward, catching Carol as she tried to run to her daughter.

"No!" he growled, wrapping strong arms around her as she fought against him, her body convulsing with sobs.

Rick stepped forward, his revolver raised.

The single shot that ended Sophia's existence echoed across the field, somehow louder than all the gunfire that had preceded it.

You felt sick, the world tilting dangerously as you watched Carol break free from Daryl's grasp and run, her grief too overwhelming to bear in the presence of others.

The rest of the day passed in a haze of numb shock. Beth had collapsed upon seeing her mother and brother among the walkers.

Hershel had disappeared, taking one of the family cars.

Rick and Glen had gone to find him.

The group fractured further, Shane's actions driving wedges between those who supported him and those who didn't.

You found yourself wandering toward the makeshift graveyard as the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink that seemed obscenely beautiful after the day's horrors.

Fresh mounds of earth marked the final resting places of Sophia and Hershel's family members—those deemed worthy of a proper burial rather than burning.

The sound of quiet sobbing drew your attention to a small cluster of Cherokee roses growing near the edge of the woods. Carol sat on the ground before them, her knees pulled to her chest, shoulders shaking with each silent tear.

It was merely a few days later as the old farmhouse creaked and groaned against the afternoon wind, its weathered boards whispering stories of simpler times.

You leaned against the outer wall of the small shed at the edge of Hershel's property, arms crossed tightly over your chest. The summer heat pressed down, making the air thick.

A loud guttural whimper made you flinch, you could hear the dull thud of fists connecting with flesh, followed by desperate, choked pleas.

"I swear, I don't know anything man! Please!"

You closed your eyes, trying to block out the sounds, but curiosity—morbid and unwelcome—pulled you toward the small gap in the boards. Swallowing hard, you peered through.

What you saw made your blood run cold.

"You think I'm buying that shit?" Daryl's voice was low, almost gentle, a terrifying contrast to the violence of his actions.

"Thirty men. Heavy artillery. And you don't know where?"

His knife glinted as he twirled it between his fingers with casual expertise before pressing it against Randall's already bleeding knee. The boy's whimpers turned to screams.

"I swear! I swear! We were never at the same place for more than a night!" Randall sobbed, tears and blood mingling on his swollen face.

"Please, I'm telling you everything!"

You watched, frozen, as Daryl ripped the bandage from Randall's leg wound, pressing his fingers into it with calculated precision.

Your stomach lurched at the sight.

"Tell me where your camp is," Daryl growled, his voice dropping into a dangerous tone. It was nothing like the gruff tones he used when stalking around camp.

This was something else entirely—something primal and savage.

You pulled back, pressing a hand to your mouth.

When you dared to look again, Daryl was wiping blood from his knuckles onto a rag, his back to the door as Randall continued to sob, babbling information about his group between hitched breaths.

You couldn't see Daryl's face, but his shoulders had lost some of their tension, suggesting he was getting what he wanted.

"We'd go out, scavenge... just the men. One night, we-we found this little campsite. A man and his two daughters... teenagers, you know? Real young ... Real cute..."Randall admitted, a odd tinge of lust in his voice despite his circumstances.

Something in Daryl's posture shifted—a undeniable vehement tightening of his frame.

"Their daddy had to watch while these guys... they... and they didn't even kill him afterwards." Randall recounted trembling.

Daryl circled Randall like a predator, his sleeveless arms spattered with blood—not his own. Sunlight filtering through the dirty windows caught on his sweat-slicked skin, illuminating the taut muscles of his shoulders and back as he turned with barely contained rage.

"No, but-but... but I didn't touch those girls. No, I swear I didn't tou..."

"Y'Son of a bitch" Daryl's voice cut through Randall's rambling like a blade.

His next punch landed with such force that Randall's head snapped sideways with a loud wet crunch, his body tipping and crashing to the wooden floor with a sickening thud.

You stumbled backward, heart hammering in your chest. The reality of this world—the reality of what people had become—struck you anew.

The night pressed down like a physical weight, the darkness between the trees absolute save for the weak silver glow of the moon filtering through scattered clouds. Their breath came in shallow puffs of condensation, Rick and Shane. The look in Shane's eyes as they'd departed from camp was, something wild and desperate.

"This is far enough," Rick said, his voice clear in the still night. "What's on your mind, Shane?"

"It ain't gonna work, Rick," Shane's voice was thick with emotion—anger, desperation, something unhinged that made your skin crawl. "You, me, Lori, Carl... this thing between us. The baby."

The camp had been abuzz with whispers ever since Glen had revealed her secret, but the implication in Shane's voice was clear.

"I'm trying to be the better man here," Shane continued, pacing now, moonlight glinting off his shaved head. "Trying to do right by everyone. But you can't lead these people, Rick. You're gonna get Lori killed. You're gonna get Carl killed."

Rick's posture changed subtly—a straightening of his spine, a slight shifting of his weight to the balls of his feet.

"I don't think that's your call to make."

Shane laughed, a hollow sound that echoed through the trees. "See, that's where you're wrong, brother. That's where you've always been wrong."

His hand moved to his waistband, revealing the dark outline of a pistol. "You ain't built for this world."

The air between them seemed to crackle with tension. Like the farm itself was holding its breath.

"So this is how it's gonna be?" Rick asked, his voice impossibly calm. "You lure me out here, put a bullet in me, then tell everyone I got lost in the woods or a walker got me?"

"I don't want this," Shane insisted, but his hand remained on his gun.

"But I've thought it through. Over and over. There's no way back from this. For either of us."

"You're right," Rick said finally. His hands were raised now, a seemingly placating gesture.

"There's no going back. So let me ask you something—you really think you can do this? Look me in the eyes and kill me, then go back and look Carl in the eyes?"

Shane's shoulders slumped slightly, a moment of hesitation. "I ain't proud of it. But they'll get over you, Rick. People do. And they'll be alive to do it."

Rick took a step forward, then another. "You won't be able to live with it."

"I already live with it!" Shane shouted, his composure cracking. "Every day! I see you with Lori, with Carl, knowing that baby is min—"

"You don't know that," Rick cut in, still advancing slowly.

"I know enough," Shane snarled, drawing his gun at last. The moonlight caught on the barrel as he leveled it at Rick's chest. "Don't make this harder than it has to be, brother."

"You're my brother," Rick said quietly, now close enough to Shane that the gun nearly touched his chest. "I love you. After everything, I still love you."

For a heartbeat, Shane's resolve seemed to waver, his gun hand trembling slightly. Then his face hardened once more. "Too bad it's gotta end this way."

In a movement so swift, Rick's hand shot forward, a blade glinting briefly in the moonlight before plunging into Shane's torso. Shane's eyes widened in shock, his mouth opening in a silent cry of betrayal.

"You did this," Rick whispered fiercely, holding Shane upright as his knees began to buckle. "Not me. You."

Shane's gun clattered to the forest floor as his hand went to the knife buried in his chest. Blood, black in the moonlight, bubbled between his fingers. His eyes, fixed on Rick's face, held nothing but disbelief.

"Damn you, Rick," he gasped, blood coating his lips. "Damn you."

He collapsed to his knees, Rick following him down, still supporting his former friend's weight. The two men knelt face to face in the clearing, locked in a grotesque embrace.

"It didn't have to be like this," Rick said, voice breaking. "Why'd you make it like this?"

Shane didn't answer. Couldn't answer. His body went slack in Rick's arms, head lolling back to stare sightlessly at the night sky.

The sound of Rick's ragged breathing filled the clearing as he lowered Shane's body to the ground.

"No!" A young voice cut through the silence, startling Rick.

Carl stood at the edge of the clearing, his small frame silhouetted against the trees, his father's hat tilted back on his head. In his hands, he clutched his gun, pointed directly at Rick.

"Carl," Rick's voice shook as he rose slowly, hands raised. "Carl, it's not what it looks like. Shane, he—he was going to kill me."

Carl's young face was twisted with grief and confusion, the gun wavering in his grip.

"You killed him," he accused, his voice breaking. "You killed Shane."

Rick took a cautious step toward his son. "I had to, son. He gave me no choice."

For one terrible moment, Rick thought Carl might pull the trigger. Instead, his arm straightened, his aim shifting slightly to a point just beyond Rick's shoulder.

A single shot cracked through the night, the sound impossibly loud in the stillness.

Rick whirled around just in time to see Shane—somehow upright again despite the knife still protruding from his chest—crumple back to the ground, a bullet hole centered neatly between eyes that had turned milky white.

Walker eyes.

The gunshot echoed through the forest like thunder, setting birds to flight from nearby trees and sending your heart into your throat.

Sound traveled in this empty world.

Sound drew the dead.

Rick stared at Shane's corpse, his expression a mixture of grief and horror. "Carl," he finally managed, his voice hoarse. "How did you...?"

"He was gonna kill you," Carl said simply, lowering his gun. "He turned, and he was gonna kill you."

Rick approached his son slowly, as if afraid Carl might bolt like a frightened deer. "He turned,"

A low, distant moan interrupted, followed by another, then several more joining in a ghastly chorus.

Rick's head snapped up, his hand moving instinctively to Carl's shoulder.

"We need to move," he said urgently, guiding Carl back toward the tree line. "Now."

You sat on the porch steps of the old farmhouse, knees drawn to your chest, watching the distant treeline where shadows seemed to shift and sway in the faint moonlight.

Something felt wrong tonight—a heaviness in the atmosphere that had nothing to do with the humidity pressing against your skin.

Inside, the group was scattered throughout the house—some sleeping, others keeping watch.

Patricia and Beth were in the kitchen, their hushed voices occasionally drifting through the open windows as they prepared food for tomorrow.

Lori had retired early, while T-Dog patrolled the perimeter with a shotgun slung over his shoulder.

The farm had become something close to home these past weeks, despite the tension that constantly simmered beneath the surface.

After losing Dale to a walker attack and Shane's confrontation with Hershel, resulting in what could only be called a massacre at the barn, the group felt fractured, held together by the thinnest threads of necessity and shared trauma.

A flicker of movement by the barn caught your attention. Daryl emerged from the shadows, crossbow in hand, his silhouette unmistakable even at a distance.

He'd been keeping to himself since the barn and Sophia's death, establishing his camp further from the others, returning only to deliver game or participate in group meetings.

As if sensing your gaze, he turned, blue eyes reflecting the silver moonlight as they locked with yours across the field. He gave a curt nod—acknowledgment without invitation—before continuing along the fence line.

The screen door creaked behind you, and Maggie stepped out onto the porch, a steaming mug in each hand. Without a word, she handed one to you before sinking down onto the step beside you. The rich aroma of herbal tea—a luxury these days—wafted between you.

"Can't sleep either?" she asked, her voice soft, accent wrapping around the words like honey.

You shook your head, taking a careful sip from the mug. "Something doesn't feel right tonight."

Maggie's eyes drifted toward the horizon where Daryl had disappeared into the darkness. "Glen said the same thing when he went up to the roof for watch." Her fingers tightened around her mug. "Said he saw lights on the highway earlier. Might've been nothing, but..."

But nothing was just nothing anymore. Every shadow potentially hid death. Every distant sound could mean danger approaching.

The door burst open, and Glen rushed out, rifle in hand, his face pale in the moonlight. "We need to wake everyone," he said, voice tight with urgency. "There's a herd heading this way—bigger than anything I've seen."

The farm erupted into controlled chaos. Hershel emerged from inside, shotgun gripped in weathered hands, his face set with determination to defend his home.

Carol followed, eyes wide with fear but movements quick and decisive as she began gathering essential supplies. T-Dog sprinted across the field from his patrol route.

You could see them now too—dozens, perhaps hundreds of dark shapes moving across the fields like a macabre tide. The distant moans carried on the night breeze, a chilling chorus that sent ice through your veins.

"We need to go," Glen said, his arm protectively around Maggie's shoulders. "There's too many to fight."

"This is my farm," Hershel interjected, loading his shotgun with trembling hands. "I'm not abandoning it to those... things."

Lori appeared at the top of the stairs. "Rick," she called down, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes. "I can't find Carl or Rick."

The group dispersed like a flock of startled birds, each person moving with purpose born of desperate necessity.

"What about the supplies?" you asked, eyeing the kitchen where your hard-won food stores were kept.

"Grab what you can carry," Glen instructed, already moving toward the door. "But don't risk your lives for it."

You rushed to the kitchen, shoving canned goods and medical supplies into your backpack, all too conscious of the increasing volume of moans from outside.

When you emerged onto the porch, the scene had transformed.

Flames licked at the barn in the distance—someone's attempt at distraction—illuminating the full extent of the herd.

There weren't dozens.

There were hundreds, maybe even thousands of walkers converging on the farm from every direction.

Gunfire erupted from multiple locations as the group fought to clear paths to the vehicles. You could see Hershel positioned near the fence line, systematically dropping walkers as Lori hustled Beth and Patricia toward the pickup.

T-Dog's truck roared to life somewhere near the chicken coop, its headlights cutting through the darkness as it bounced across the uneven ground.

"Woman!" Daryl's voice cut through the cacophony. He was already astride his motorcycle, engine growling impatiently. "Move yer ass!"

You didn't need to be told twice, sprinting down the porch steps and across the yard.

Daryl revved the engine as you approached.

"Ain't got all day" he growled.

You'd barely settled, arms wrapping around his waist, before he accelerated, the sudden movement nearly unseating you.

He navigated the motorcycle between shambling corpses.

But there were also screams—human screams that cut through the moans of the dead.

You spotted someone being dragged down by a group of walkers, blood spraying across Beth's face as the younger girl was pulled away by Lori.

As you sped past the burning barn, a horrifying sight caught your eye—the RV, surrounded by walkers, Beth's boyfriend visible through the windshield as hands broke through the glass.

His agonized scream echoed across the field, abruptly silenced as teeth tore into his throat.

As the motorcycle crested a small rise, you chanced a final look back at the farm.

The picturesque homestead that had been your sanctuary was now a vision from hell—buildings burning, vehicles scattering in different directions, and everywhere, the dead shambling through the fields that had once grown crops.

The contrast between the peace of the farm and the current inferno was so stark it seemed unreal, like witnessing the end of the world for a second time.

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sundew199 · 4 months ago

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Zoro doesn’t understand why you’re so upset with him, why your bright eyes burn with tears that hold the weight of anger and frustration. He swore his intentions were true, rushing to your side in the midst of battle to shove you away, so why were cheeks stained with salty tears that make his heart hurt?

You’re never truly angry at him, mostly annoyed or frustrated at his constant playful teasing, so it worries him the more your face pinches and twists with distain. Had he truly done the wrong thing in coming after you, watching you struggle from afar with a Marine who gained the upper hand? Surely he hadn’t.

“I don’t need you to swoop in like I’m some damsel in distress.”

The remark felt like a sword grazing his skin, not deep enough to make him bleed, but enough for a sting to linger. He blinked, deflated in his posture on the edge of the bed, confused and hurt that you didn’t appreciate his quick reaction. He knows you’re capable and possess skill that uphold their value in the crew, but his gut instinct screamed at him that you wouldn’t recover from the upper hand being swept from you and the thought of losing you when he could’ve done something to prevent it makes Zoro physically sick.

Lose is a familiar feeling for him, a familiar experience that lingers over his shoulder like a shadow, haunting him as a reminder that no one is ever safe. Maybe it was bad luck, or a punishment for a sin that he had yet to atone for, Zoro wasn’t sure. Whatever it was, Zoro felt that shadow rest its cold wispy hand on his shoulder as he spotted you across the way, the whispered warning springing him into action.

“But you’re not, I only helped because it didn’t look like you were going to regain the advantage.”

His tone was soft and remorseful, apologetic for making you feel less than what you’re worth, and how dare he? The warring sides of wrong and right were muddled yet clear. Zoro knew he did the right thing, but guilt clung to him in such an odd way.

“I had him Zoro.”

“Did you?”

Emotions switching at the bite in your tone, the way bitterness bled through like ink to a rag, quick and furious. You physically shot back, uncrossing your arms, pulling your brows tighter than they had been before.

“You’re the one who built up my confidence, trained me on close combat and now you questions me? Was it all so you could bring it all down and prove I’ll never be as strong as you?”

A long breath was inhaled through his nose, needing to calm himself before even letting the anger rise. Tensions were high on the ship, no one would deny it, Marines catching them at every corner it felt, bearing down on the crew in hopes it would squash like a bug.

“No.”

A scoffing disgusted sound scratched at your throat, throwing your arms in the air. There were a lot of things Zoro didn’t like to admit aloud, afraid of speaking them into existence and watching the shadow that always hung around, greedily take what meant most to him, away.

“Then why Zoro? You know if I ever need help in a battle I’ll tell you in some way and I didn’t this time so why did you-“

“Because I can’t lose you!” Shouting through your words, cutting you off, unable to keep the one thing he feared most inside. You stood frozen in front of him, appalled at the confession and the genuine fear written on his face. He watched the way the lines on your face contorted with conflict and reason, unable to come to a conclusion. Whatever was between the two of you was unlabeled, but spoken and unspoken love washed over the both of you in a gentle wave. Platonic at first and quickly turning romantic, a connection that excited Zoro and then later scared him as the reminder of what happened to those he loved. In some way or another it was ripped from him unexpectedly, eventually making it easy for self isolation to creep in and become a friend. All that changed with his captain drug him aboard for an adventure, soften his wall and making it almost easy for you creep into the cracks and urge him to accept you, and for a while, all without the fear of losing you.

“I can’t lose anyone else, I’ve lost enough.”

Forcing himself to meet your gaze, the buried emotions of a boy who spend more than ten plus years of his life alone coming forth. He never got the opportunity to know his parents enough to mourn them like a child who did, his father a faint figure and his mother a blurry face when he tried to think of her. He was never able to understand his grief when Kuina died, so young and full of fire that her death only motivated him to continue to pursue their shared dream. Zoro pushed forward when life threw his curveballs, accepting them then storing them away so they wouldn’t cloud his judgement or deter him from his goal. But that didn’t mean he was incapable of caring or fearing, honing the skill of hiding early on.

This crew, his captain and ship mates were the one thing he refused to lose. He refused to let you slip from his grasp, to watch the life fade from your eyes as he begged for you to hold on. Zoro doesn’t think he’d recover if he were to experience that. You were the light that peaked through the clouds of his gloomy life, the small ray of sun that he accepted and let shoo the other clouds away.

Seeing you lose the upper hand to the marine earlier, struck a fear in him like none other, something he doesn’t think he’s felt before. And Zoro would be damned if he didn’t make to you in time.

“I’m sorry,” beginning again but being silenced by the hand cradling the side of his face, warmth from the palm he’d grown so fond of.

“No I’m sorry Zoro, I-“ Wavering words broke, a sniffle of regret prompting him to bring you down into an embrace. Arms wrapped securely around you, holding you as if the shadow would cruelly take you as a sort of joke for confessing his fear.

“I just can’t, I don’t know what I’d do with myself if you weren’t here, I’d regret not reaching you fast enough and die lying by your grave and wishing it were me instead of you.”

And he meant that, every word. One little scare gave him a glimpse of what could possibly be and Zoro hated it. You were more than a fellow crewmate at this point, and call him selfish but Zoro didn’t want to imagine the crew without you.

“You won’t have to, I promise. I’m sorry for my reaction, I didn’t know and thought you saw me as weak.”

Bringing you away so he could look you in the eyes and wipe away the tears, Zoro smiled faintly.

“You’re anything but that, I just don’t want to take any chances.” Cradling the back of your neck, bringing his lips to your cheek and kissing over a tear streak. Your hands found its way to the short hair toward his neck, threading it through your fingers and holding him close.

You didn’t say anything else and Zoro took it as understanding, acceptance for his worries and forgiving him even though there wasn’t anything to forgive. Words didn’t need to be said to know the love Zoro held for you was strong, strong enough to throw himself in hopes of sparing you from a blade or bullet. And though Zoro couldn’t live in a world without you, he’d be okay with sacrificing his own if it meant you’d get away unscathed because Zoro couldn’t handle anymore loss, even if that meant trading your loss with his own.

꧁༄꧂

a/n: needed to write something sort of gentle for him, sorry if it’s slightly angsty ~(>_<~)

#roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x you #zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x you #zoro roronoa x reader #op roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro #op zoro #one piece zoro

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ailoda · 7 months ago

Text

updated: 09.03.25

˚☽˚.⋆ fluff

Is It Chill That You're In My Head? (❤❅): your best friend James isn’t sure why he’s so angry about the fact that you’re going on a date with someone else. (@boneblushed)

Dreamy Eyes (❤): smitten james. (@carpentvrs)

James being super soft around reader. (❤) (@theemporium)

5 People James Didn't Mean To Kiss (and one he did) (❤): James Potter is a very affectionate person. (@g1rld1ary)

Pretty Boy (❤): you think James is really pretty—unfortunately for you, Sirius notices and decides to take matters into his own hands. (@alwaysmoncheri)

Something He'd Overheard (❤): James finds himself head over heels when he sees you defending a first year student. (@sleepiexx)

The Marauder's Map (❤): James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter need help for a special resource for their pranks, so who better to go to than the best charms student Hogwarts has to offer- also the girl James seems to be in love with. (@starcrossedslytherin)

Best Surprise Ever (❤): firefighter!james. (@inkluvs)

Side Effects May Include (❤): after snagging Veritaserum from Slughorn’s office, Sirius is convinced he has concocted the perfect prank for his next victim, you. And what better way to start the day than revealing all your true feelings about your friends. (@mischievousmoony)

↪︎ Part Two (❤)

Wildest Dreams (❤): finding out that your ex-best friend might have smelt you in the Amortentia feels as surreal as you smelling him. (@pretty-little-mind33) (warning: harassment, non-consensual touching (non-sexual))

Fell Hard (❤): when James finds himself talking to the other marauders about reader. (@lupinsversion)

Shut Up Mom (❤): Harry decides it's a good idea to prank your husband. (@uramakimochi)

Something Stupid (❤): James has always adored your sweet heart and gentle ways and feels nothing more than obligated to tell you how much he loves you, even if he isn't completely sober enough to tell you. (@illicitvalentines)

Raison D'être (❤): James Potter never thought that the most terrible day of his life could give him a new reason for existing. (@santaasi)

A Little Manpower (❤): reader moving into an apartment and meets James. (@g1rld1ary)

Stop Flirting With The Nurse, Its Embarrassing (❤): it’s hard to act cool if James’ beautiful, hot nurse can hear his heart rate. (@perpetuallydaydreaming)

Bed Hopper (❤): after creating a tradition of cuddling James before bed, you'd think you'd have the path down by now. (@unconventional-lawnchair)

What If I Was You? (❤): it all started innocently enough. James noticed how kind you were. But over time, he began to notice things he probably shouldn’t have. The way your hair fell over your shoulder as you wrote something on the board. The soft sound of your laughter. The way your eyes sparkled when you looked at Harry. And for a moment, James let that forbidden thought take shape again: you at home with them, laughing, caring, belonging. (@ikkyfics)

Boudoir Photoshoot (❤): you have your bridesmaids show James, your, now, husband, polaroid samples from your boudoir photoshoot on your wedding night while you enjoy his reactions from afar. (@kquil)

Our Names In The Paper (❤): footballer!james potter x fem!sports journalist!reader. (@g1rld1ary)

Heart Chaser (❤): James tries to woo you over many times before, with what he does best- being a showoff and with a promise of a hogsmeade date if they win the quidditch tournament. (@empress-simps)

No one makes James Potter feel the way that his girlfriend does and he definitely knows it. (❤) (@alwaysmoncheri)

"This is betrayal!" (❤): in which James accused you of committing treason in the humble Potter’s household. (@wintrsoul)

new! Just My Luck (❤): you get stuck in a shed with your quidditch captain. (@thatdammchickennugget)

#james potter fluff #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #marauders #marauders era #james potter #james potter x oc #marauders era fic recs #marauders fic recs #james potter fic recs #ailoda's recs #marauders fluff #marauders era fluff

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detectivestucks · 1 year ago

Text

Saturday Lunch

18+ content, Minors do NOT interact

Pairing: Kakashi x F!Reader

Summery: As Sasuke's loving older sister, you would pick him up after Team 7 was finished training for the day. His sensei becomes infatuated with you and takes things too far when you invite him over for Saturday Lunch at the Uchiha compound.

Warnings: NSFW, NONCON, slight yandere, fingering, unprotected penetration.

Word Count: 5.5k

Anon Ask

“Sasuke!” you waive as you walk up to the young group of ninja.

Sasuke grumbles your name in embarrassment as you approach him and his teammates.

“Remember to thank your sensei!”

“Thank you Kakashi-sensei.” he mumbles, barely audible

“Thank you captain!” you beam at Kakashi, while draping your arm around your little brother’s shoulder.

The man immediately flushes. A light rose dusts over Kakash’s cheeks as he returns your thanks for picking up his student.

“Are you coming to lunch tomorrow?”

You kindly direct your question at the tall silver haired man.

“I wouldn’t miss it.” He hums, his eyes practically closed from his smile hidden beneath the mask.

“Come on Sasuke, Mom and Itachi are waiting.”

“What about Dad?”

“He’s out tonight. He had responsibilities to take care of in the Hokage’s office.”

You and your little brother continue talking while you head towards the Uchiha compound. Kakashi watches as your hips sway with each pace. Your arm affectionately draped around your little brother as you walk him home.

You always did that. Pick your brother up and walk him home. Ever since Itachi was no longer able to do it. You’d take his place so that Sasuke wouldn’t feel too forgotten. Kakashi knew in his soul that it was partly because it gave you an excuse to come see him. How could he forget your infectious sweet smile? The way your cheeks swell as your lips stretch to reveal your pearly whites. It made his heart stutter each and every single time.

The problem is that it seemed your smile stole the attention of others too. Kakashi knew these men for what they are. Greedy selfish perverts, undeserving of your soft, gentle gaze. It fueled him with anger when he’d see them stare.

You were more than a pretty face. Everything about you was perfection. He couldn’t stand to see how the scum would approach you and try to steal a moment alone. Tugging on your delicate hands to guide you away. When that unsure look spreads over your face Kakashi takes the opportunity to step in and give them a death glare for so much as thinking impure thoughts about you.

You were grateful to him for always being so kind. Stepping in when normally your older brother Itachi would. You viewed him as a stand up guy and a great role model for your little brother.

However, Kakashi knew what those looks of appreciation really were and he lived for them. Feeling the high of your relieved eyes and happy gaze. Living for the days when your musical voice would thank him and invite him with the team to lunch at the compound. You were destined to be his wife. He would not allow anyone to get in his way.

Always around by happenstance. Always ready to grab you by the waist and pretend to be your boyfriend. Always lurking over your shoulder to scare away pervs with his piercing gaze. Always casually toying with a kunai or shuriken whenever a man is nearby.

He laid his claim over you clear as day. Well clear to everyone…except you.

—

It’s another Saturday at the Uchiha house. You and your mom hurriedly prepare as much food as possible before all the guests arrive. You grab the leaf to your table, doubling its length, and grab the extra seat cushions out of the nearby closet. All shoes are stacked neatly by the door and you hear the timid voice of a pink haired kunoichi over your shoulder.

“Uhh, Y/N?”

“Hi Sakura!”

“I-is Sasuke here?”

“Yes, of course! He’s in the back with Itachi.”

A huge smile covers her face as she goes to follow your little brother like a lost puppy. You swear she’s so cute, obsessing over him. It makes you laugh how your brother pretends to hate it but you see how he allows her to touch him. One day he’s going to admit how much he likes her…one day.

You hear another knock at the door. You turn around and it’s their charming sensei.

“Hi Kakashi.” you softly sing in greeting

“Good Afternoon, Y/N.”

You completely miss how his voice lowers as your name rolls off his tongue. You give him a peck on the cheek to say your thanks for coming as he stoops over to take off his shoes. He offers his help in finishing preparations and setting the table as he always does.

Next thing you know, you hear the boisterous sound of one golden haired boy running in through the front door, throwing his shoes behind him as he runs towards the back of the house looking for his friend and rival.

Both you and Kakashi exchange looks as you giggle at Naruto and his antics. That’s when you hear a light rap at the door. You give Kakashi a look of confusion before walking over to the door.

“Oh hey, Setsuna!”

“Hey! I found that one wandering around harassing the neighbors so I decided to walk ‘im over for ya.”

The man blushed and scanned up and down your body as he talked to you. Kakashi clenched his teeth feeling a vein pop out of his forehead. The man was looking at you with hunger. Couldn’t you see the disrespect he showed for your modesty? Undressing you with his eyes and imagining himself with a woman who didn’t belong to him. Kakashi was sure the man imagined he had more of a claim over you, being an Uchiha and all, but Kakashi had no intention of rolling over and letting anyone sniff around what was his.

Kakashi walked up to you and laid his arm over your shoulder.

“Hey Kakashi.” Setsuna said somewhat nervously, eyes darting to how Kakashi was holding you.

“Hi”

“I’m sorry, I didn't realize you had so much company over.”

You shrug and in the process casually slip Kakashi’s arm off your shoulder, walking towards the door.

“Yeah, it’s Saturday lunch and we always invite Sasuke’s team.”

“Well I better let you get back to it.” He says flirtatiously but with eyes that continue to glance back up to Kakashi’s glaring face just over your shoulder. You reach out and rest your hand on his bicep.

“Well thank you for dropping off Naruto. We appreciate it.”

“Yeah” Kakashi grunts, “thanks.”

You move to close the door and turn around to a stoic Kakashi.

“You okay?”

He glares at the door for a bit before coming to his senses. He blinks a few times as his eyes focus on your face.

“Hm? Oh, yes. I’m fine.” his throat was dry and his words unconvincing. You give him a questioning brow but soon the kids come into the dining area anxious to eat.

A chorus of “Thank you for the food!” is heard around the table before everyone dives in. You eat happily, eyes dancing over the kids and your family.

Your father only stays for a few minutes however, before he pulls Itachi into a far corner of the house. The two of them seemingly are talking about private information regarding the future of the clan. Stuff that you, as their daughter, are not privy to.

About halfway through the meal you excuse yourself to use the restroom. Without knowing it, Kakashi’s jealous gaze wandered over to you as you turned to leave and head down the hall.

After a few moments Kakashi excused himself as well, following after you, lost in his thoughts.

You had touched another man. Why?

You shrugged off his arm. Why?

You didn’t seem grateful to him for coming to your aid. Why?

He needed answers from you and he needed them immediately.

You come out of the bathroom and collide into Kakashi’s chest. “Oof, uh, oh hi Kashi” you smile sweetly, but your smile quickly falls as you look up at Kakashi's scowl. “A-are you okay?”

“Do you want him?”

“W-what?”

“Do you want him?”

“Want who?”

“Setsuna”

“No?”

“No?” Kakashi asks raising a brow

“No.” you say more sure of yourself

“Good” Kakashi purrs.

You give him a questioning and startled look.

Feeling relief and a wave of affection for you, Kakashi steps forward, closing the distance between you two. You turn so as to slip past him but he just uses the opportunity to press his arms into the wall by your face. You swallow as your eyes zero in on how Kakashi is caging you in. You start to feel nervous and when you look back up in Kakashi’s eyes you are met with a predatory gaze that makes you shrink.

For the first time ever, you feel afraid of him.

“Kakashi, what are you doing?” You whisper, trying to give him an out and end this awkward moment.

“I’m claiming what’s mine.” he whispers in your ear, pulling back to flash you a masked smile.

“W-what’s yours?” you swallow again

“Oh come now” Kakashi breathes into your neck. “You can’t possibly tell me that all those smiles when you pick up your brother are just you being nice.”

His fingers graze your waist before grasping your wrist. You whimper under his light touch.

“You can’t tell me that you keep inviting me to your house because you’re not interested in me, sweetheart.”

You continue to shutter as his fingers lightly draw a line from your wrist up your arm, tracing all the way to your shoulder.

“...and the way you call me captain.” Kakashi closes his eyes as he groans at the memory.

You’re barely able to breathe as his figure looms over you, having you cornered in the hall. Your eyes keep shifting towards the dining room where everyone is eating and talking. You believe your dad and brother will be back at any moment and catch the interaction.

“Tell me sweetie, which room is yours?”

He purrs the words into your ear. Your eyes squeeze shut as your arm points to the second door on the right.

He spins you around, facing your room. Kakashi’s hand finds its place lightly wrapped around your throat while the hand that’s now snaked around your waist keeps you tight against his chest, walking with you towards your room.

Once inside he slides your door closed and rips his mask off his face, discarding it on the floor. He presses gentle kisses on your neck while standing behind you. Continuing to push his lips against your shoulder over your clothes.

He breathes deeply, inhaling your scent as he tightens his grip, possessively hugging you. You belonged to no one else. Just him. You never invited those other men over, just him. You showed him how you viewed him as family by constantly bringing him to the compound. Even if you weren’t married yet, he knew that’s what you wanted. You made sure he spent as much time in this part of the village as possible so he'd feel at home when the time came.

He readjusts the hand on your throat, allowing his slender fingers to swipe up to your cheek and turn your face towards his. “Tears of joy my love?”

He held you too tight for you to shake your head ‘no.’ You were so scared of what he would do to you. You weren’t strong like your brothers. You weren’t a fighter. You were simply a kind woman who loved her family and always tried to show love to others.

“Let me make you feel so good baby. Let me do that for you.” he cooed into your ear.

Kakashi was simply drunk on the idea of being alone with you for the first time. His fingers slowly undid the buttons on your sweater, pulling it off of your shoulders as his lips ghosted over your cheek.

“I love you baby and I know you love me too.”

Silent tears continue to stream down your face as he lifts your shirt over your head then turned you around to face him. His hands, so gentle but so violating. They slide up your sides and brush over to your chest. His hands cup the weight of your breasts, swiping his thumbs over the nipples, making them stiffen.

You watch as he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, clearly turned on by your figure. He chews on the soft skin as he moans at the way you feel, so delicate and fragile in his hold. Somebody to protect. Somebody to be gentle with.

His hands travel down your navel to your pants. His digits undoing the top button and lowering your zipper. Fingers slipping under the waistband and pulling it down over your tender rear, allowing the fabric to pool at your feet.

Kakashi kneels before you. His arms wrapping around your waist and hugging your naked frame. He presses his face against your stomach as one of your hands goes to push his shoulder and the other his face. When your hand lands in his hair, trying to peel him away from you, he simply lifts his face to your tear stained gaze, love etched into his eyes. He kissed you at the base of your pelvis, his mouth dangerously close to your sex. You shudder and try to push him off again. But he ignored your shove, his lips instead brushed against your skin and pressed a tender kiss on your hip. Then another at your belly. His lips working their way up your center towards your jaw.

As you accepted your fate you felt a strange feeling. The front of your mind had a shift and all of your senses heightened. Your body must have swayed because Kakashi pulled back. A wide smile stretched over his face. His thumb wiping away some of the tears.

“You’ve activated your sharingan. That’s incredible baby.” He kisses your cheek. “I’m so proud of you.”

His lips drop to your ear, kissing the shell, “I can’t wait to teach you how to use it.”

Your…your sharingan…You activated your sharingan…

The stress of the situation brought it out of you. You start to feel brave. You have the strength of your clan. You can be strong like your dad and brothers. You begin to struggle and try to push Kakashi off of you but to no avail. He merely chuckles at your futile attempts and walks you closer to your bed.

“Sweetheart, we can save role playing for later.”

Kakashi kneels down one more time, pulling you down with him so that you are kneeling, straddled over his lap. His hands sit firmly on your hips as he holds you down to rut his hips up against your bare sex. He closes his eyes and softly groans. You see drool drip out of the corner of his mouth.

You try to fight his grip and get up but he holds you in place. Curse your weak body. Curse your tiny muscles. You couldn’t move! You couldn’t escape. But you could feel his bulge push up into you. You could feel it through his pants. The dark fabric gets soiled from your fluids as Kakashi rubs himself against your naked folds.

Your maroon eyes observe him in slow motion. You see every ragged breath he pulls, every silver lash as he blinks, you watch how his tendons twitch as he grips you. He closes his eyes while he leans in to recapture your lips. You are everything he’s been yearning for. His tight grip readjusts to hold around your waist and his other hand resting against the back of your head, pushing your face into his.

He leans forward so that he lowers you down, your back sinking into the mattress resting on the floor. Your hands push against his chest as he hovers above you. He only smirks, delighted by your adorable efforts.

“No need to be shy, sweetheart.”

His kisses a trail over your cheek and jaw then over to your neck. His hand sliding down to your thigh, rubbing up and down, feeling how soft your skin is.

Your breath hitches as you hyperventilate, so terrified of how exposed you are under him. His palm slides up your core to your breast, fingers closing around it. A needy whine slips past Kakashi’s lips, feeling how the tissue gives way to the pressure as he squeezes.

“I’ve been dreaming of you. Wondering how soft you would feel.” He expels all air from his lungs. “It’s even better than I could have imagined, sweetheart.”

Kakashi kneels above you, pulling his shirt off and lowering the waistband of his pants. He fishes inside his briefs and pulls out his member. You see the tip glistening with precum and watch as he smears it over with his thumb.

“This is for you baby.” he says in a deep voice.

The sound so soft and gentle but brimming with delusion. He leans over you once more, lifting the same thumb to your lips, glossing your bottom one with his fluid. You watch as the visual of your lip sheen with his cum steals the man’s breath away. You begin to tremble under him, knowing what comes next. He rubs his length against your labia, manipulating how it touched you at the base of his shaft.

Seeing that you weren’t wet enough he let go of himself and instead sunk one of his long fingers into your entrance. He immediately felt how warm it was, biting his own lip at your temperature. Your trembling only increases. He sinks a second digit into your warmth and begins to stroke. Small cries coming from you as he moved.

You wished this was consensual. You wished it wasn't your first time. You wished this feeling was had under different circumstances.

You clench around him hard. Your walls trying to keep him out.

“It’s okay, love, I’ll prep you. I’ll stretch you out to make sure it doesn’t hurt.”

The tears continue to silently fall as your hand grips his bicep, nails digging into him, leaving bruises where each of your fingers rest on him. He didn’t mind the pain though. He felt it romantic. You were leaving your mark on him. Your bruising grip laying claim to his skin.

His fingers slide in and out of you. Though you remain tight, fluid starts to form. Slick is generated by the motions, lubricating the area for his rock hard length eagerly waiting for its turn. He spreads his fingers inside of you. With a scissoring motion he tries to loosen you up. Make room for his manhood, but you restrict around him just as much. He slips in a third digit causing you to throw your head back and moan. The noise slipping out of you and leaving Kakashi’s dick throbbing.

The motions of his hands increase. They move faster, burying himself up to the third knuckle as he works your gummy walls trying to prepare you for his love. The ultimate show of affection.

He genuinely wants to pleasure you. He flips his wrist and hooks his fingers upwards. You moan a second time, feeling how he hits a sensitive spot as his fingertips drag along your walls. You reach your hand to your chest, feeling yourself the exact same way Kakashi just felt you. Squeezing down on your own tit as you close your eyes, embarrassed and shocked that you’re capable of feeling pleasure in this moment.. Kakashi’s speed increases till he feels you flutter around his fingers. A warmth spreads over your lower half. He slows down, still stroking as a ring forms around his knuckles before he fully pulls out.

When he does, you open your eyes and look over at his beaming face. His pupils dilate impossibly wide as he looks at his hand, lifting the fingers to his face and smelling your essence on them. You watch him drag his tongue between the fingers, licking up your slick before sinking them into his mouth.

“Mmm, so sweet.”

You swear you see his eyes cross as they roll back into his head. When he's done lapping up your cream he brings his attention back to the task at hand. He has one hand on the mattress by your waist and another at his base, beginning to line himself up with your quivering hole. “Wait!”

You plead, hand grasping his wrist near your waist.

“It’s okay my love. I’ll make you feel good like I did just now.”

You feel shame and fear take over before his tip lightly touches your lips. The mushroom head sinks in slowly stretching you out and taking your virginity. Kakashi groans just a tad too loud at the feeling of your walls caging around him. He’s absolutely in heaven and when he looks down at you with his lovestruck eyes, he sees your mangekyou staring back at him.

The act of forcibly taking your chastity fuels you with so much emotion that your sharingan immediately evolved. The affection on his face became immensely deeper. He genuinely was in love with you and overjoyed to see your eyes. His own brimming with so much love that he began to thrust into you. Both his hands now placed by your face, your hands shot up to his forearms to steady yourself. Biting at your bottom lip to stop yourself from screaming at the pleasurable pain.

“It’s okay sweetheart. I’ll go slow.”

He kept true to his word. Pushing up inside of you with deliberate strokes, prodding at your squishy spot, forcibly pulling moans out of your timid mouth. He was gentle, treating you like you might break beneath him, respecting your lack of experience. At least in his mind. He gives you time to adjust to his size as he stuffs you with his girth.

His hips slowly back in and out of you, guiding his manhood with each shift of his pelvis. Your eyes are scrunched with tears pricking at the corners, Kakashi kisses them where the tears fall.

“It won’t hurt much longer.” he cooed with a peck to your cheek

He continues his slow rutting into your slit. You chew on your bottom lip, starting to feel the pain ebb away and a comforting friction take its place. Your entire core was still tight from tension but Kakashi, seeing your discomfort, softly kisses you. Working his peach skin gently against your trembling lips. His mouth lightly licks your cheek and skims over to your jaw before trailing feather light kisses over the expanse of your neck and chest. Dropping his weight to his forearms so that his hands could embrace you as his languid strokes eased in and out of your once chaste hole.

He hums happily into your chest, “I love you so much.”

“S-stop.” you cry

“What’s the matter, baby?”

“S-stop saying such t-things. Y-you don’t mean it.”

“But I do. You are going to make an amazing wife and our children will be extraordinary.”

You whimper beneath him as he continues. “You can keep your last name and proudly stay an Uchiha. I’ll move here to the compound with you. You won’t have to give up anything for me. I promise to provide for you, to love you, and to honor you.”

As his confession comes pouring out of him, his strokes gain speed. His emotions start to get the better of him and his tender touch fades away.

“K-kakashi…” you begin to whine out of protest but it dies in your throat. His increased pace begins to bring satisfaction in a way you weren’t expecting. His member deliberately massages you in places that make you moan and coil in pleasure. It’s not possible, you tell yourself. He’s a delusional rapist but as his tip brushes against that spot you never knew existed till now, you feel the fear slip away from your mind. Your fingers grip him at his shoulders, the sensation between your legs fogging your mind and stealing your thoughts.

He brings his face back up to yours to nuzzle noses, happily accepting your touch. His pace increases steadily, soon turning into a proper fuck. Your eyes begin to widen and sweat falls from your brow. Your chest bouncing with each collision of Kakashi’s hips into yours.

Not knowing what to do with yourself, you wrap your legs around him and your fingers sink into his skin tighter, the pleasure heading straight to your chore.

“That’s it, baby.” His once frightening voice suddenly sounds honeyed. “Here, let’s try another angle.”

Kakashi gently pulls out of you and you feel the cold air contact your wet folds, realizing suddenly how soaked they are. His large hands guide you onto your stomach and pull up your hips. Aligning himself behind you, he sinks in, eyes nearly crossing at the feeling of you wrapping around him once more. But this time it’s better because this time you’re squeezing him out of arousal rather than pain. Instead of pushing him out, your walls were sucking him in and he felt dizzy from it.

Hips pulling back before pushing in, rolling into you, making you squirm. Kakashi lowers himself to whisper in your ear.

“Does that feel good?”

“Mhm” is all you need to squeak out to make a smile split his face in two.

“Now arch your back f’me.”

He requests it so delicately that you forget how this entire situation started. As soon as you change your position, tilting your hips towards the mattress, an instant wave of heat washes to your core. He sunk into you deeper with a room-filling groan.

You were terrified someone would hear and it causes you to restrict around him.

“It’s okay sweetheart. I know the walls are thin but Naruto and Sakura are being loud. No one can hear us.”

You quietly nod. He loves how meek you are. Just a gentle soul sent to this earth to bless its creatures with your kindness. You resume arching your back and the way he sinks in knocks the breath out of your lungs. Kakashi continues to lean over you and hum in your ear.

“You’re doing such a good job. Just like that.” You feel your face flush at his praise.

Kakashi finally lifts up, looking down on you and surveying your small figure bent over below him. One hand purchased on your hip and the other rubbing large circles over the soft flesh of your behind, his eyes drank in the view, coveting how your body looked below his.

He rocked back and forth, beginning to reestablish his pace from earlier. The new angle completely changing the feeling of how he fit inside of you. A gasp slips past your tongue as he slips in all the way up to the hilt. Kakashi bites his own lip at the sweet sound and the feeling of your tightening grip around his manhood.

The more he stroked into you, the more you sank into the position. Rocking your hips back into him, lowering your head down to the mattress. The feeling was overwhelmingly pleasurable and the thoughts about how handsome the man behind you is began to creep towards the front of your mind.

For a moment you decided to look back at Kakashi. The stolen glance had you lose your breath. He was gorgeous. Flawless milky skin covering a network of toned muscles. Veins threaded in and out of them, drawing your eyes from his hands, up his arms and to his shoulders. Your eyes take a moment to truly adjust to the look of him without a mask. You spot just how square and sharp his jaw is. How his lips are a bit swollen from him biting them and how a beauty mark sits just below them. His hair, though a bit of a mess compared to his normally pristine swooped style, still soft and fluffy. You moan, feeling him as you truly see him.

A smirk tugs at Kakashi’s lips. “You like what you see?”

You blink and nod your head.

His smirk breaks into an all out smile. His hands readjust and grip your hips tighter. Thrusts gaining speed now that you seem more comfortable. He bottomed out in you and rolled his hips. You drop your head back down on the mattress, moaning loudly into the sheets, praying that no one outside can hear you.

Kakashi looks down on you with lidded eyes, heavy with lust. He lifts a hand, bringing the palm down on you with a light spank. You grunt and clench around him on impact. You hear a whimper come from him. He truly could not handle feeling you squeeze around him like that. After months of pining, he had you wrapped around him perfectly. He did it again, getting the exact same reaction. Not wanting to get caught, he doesn’t risk spanking you further but the wet slaps emitting from where you conjoin give away your activity just the same.

You spread your knees wider and sink your spine lower, earning a grunt from the silver haired ninja. He thanks you by leaning down and settling his middle fingertip over your clit and swirling it around. Your breath hitches.

“Ah…thank you” you whisper, just barely audible over the squelching from your entrance.

Sweat is rolling down Kakashi’s chest and dampening your brow. The hand squeezing your hip slides up to your breast and lifts your chest off the mattress, pushing your rear flush against his pelvis as he snaps into you. Your head rolls back and your eyes close. How he greedily gropes your breast, expertly whirls around your bud, and stokes against all the right spots, it all feels so overwhelming. You reach one hand to massage the other breast that he wasn’t touching and place your second hand over his hand between your legs. Your breathing becomes heavy as you soak it all in. Basking in the hot, wet, sensation of him taking you from behind.

His lips ghost over your neck, “On your back for me, baby”

You dumbly nod your head ‘okay’ as you reach your arms down to the mattress and roll yourself over onto your back. Kakashi centers over you and pushes your legs up into your chest before thrusting back in. This time he went impossibly deep.

“Nagh!” Your eyes snap shut as you struggle to take him.

“You’re doing so well baby. You can do it, you can take me.”

He encourages you in his deep husky voice, low with lust. You open your eyes and he sees how your carmine gaze is glossed over, looking so innocently up at him. It’s enough to pluck his heartstrings. He feels his chest become impossibly tight as your delicate fingers grab a hold of his biceps.

“Hands around my neck sweetheart”

You pout your lips and nod, quickly grasping at his neck, allowing your fingers to thread into the bottom of his hair while you cling onto him. Kakashi slaps up into you, pace steadily increasing as his excitement gets the better of him. Your eyes begin to roll back and your lids close. The softest little moans slipping past your lips as he feels your legs start to quiver underneath him.

Kakashi lost his composure, feeling you cum around him. Your walls fluttered closed, milking him as if you needed him to fill your womb with his seed.

His face twisted in pleasurable agony. He tried desperately to hold on and let you finish your orgasm before he satisfied his own but he couldn’t hold on any longer. He had to pull out and quickly paint your stomach so as not to start a family with you just yet. He groans at the idea of breeding you and claiming you by putting his baby in your belly. The thought makes his cock twitch as he finishes pumping his ropes onto your stomach.

He falls forward, leaning his forehead against yours. Both of you panting as you look upon the other’s face. Kakashi’s eyes drop down to your lips and you reach yours to meet his. You suck on his lip and let your teeth sink into it. Kakashi swears he feels his heart stop when he pulls back, slowly freeing his lip.

“I love you” he whispers into your face.

“Then take me on a proper date.” you whisper back, eyes returning to normal.

Kakashi flashes you a toothy grin. You can see his sharp canines and how sparkling white his teeth are. This man really is gorgeous.

“We should get back before they miss us.”

“Agreed. Let me clean you up.”

Kakashi stands up and redresses himself prior to slipping out of the room. He goes to the bathroom and grabs a warm washcloth, then sneaks back into your bedroom. He massages your legs and then your feet, before kissing all the way up your body. He insists on helping you put your clothes back on, then takes your hand in his and kisses it.

His eyes lift up to meet yours before he faces the door. “Do I have to go back out there and pretend I don’t have feelings for you?”

You look down at where your fingers intertwine with his. “Don’t let go of my hand.”

The words coming out in the form of a whisper. The puppy dog expression you are met with melts your heart. You swear you almost see him cry as he pulls you into a hug.

“C’mon, let’s go.” you urge

He releases you and you step out into the hall together, reentering the dining room only to be greeted with three young disbelieving faces…

Masterlist

#kakashi smut #kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake #kakashi is daddy #kakashi fanfiction #kakashi senpai #kakashi sensei #kakashi romance #hatake kakashi #noncon smut #anon ask #story requests

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antinousletmehit · 6 months ago

Note

Polties with a very playful nymph reader he met on one of the islands they sail to go!!

୨୧┇pairing: Polites x Nymph!reader

୨୧┇Enjoy!!

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

The sun hung low in the sky as the crew of Odysseus’s ship landed on yet another mysterious island. The air was sweet with the scent of wildflowers, and the gentle rustling of leaves seemed to whisper secrets. Polites stepped off the ship with his usual enthusiasm, taking in the lush greenery that stretched as far as the eye could see. “Stay close,” Odysseus warned, his sharp gaze scanning the horizon. “We don’t know what dangers lie here.” Polites waved him off with a grin. “You worry too much, Captain. Not every island is out to kill us.”

Odysseus gave him a look but said nothing more as the crew began their exploration. Polites, as always, wandered a little farther than the rest, his curiosity pulling him deeper into the forest. It wasn’t long before he stumbled upon a glade that seemed almost too perfect to be real. The sunlight filtered through the trees, casting a golden glow over the crystal clear pool at its center. And there, perched on a rock by the water’s edge, was a person unlike any Polites had ever seen.

Its hair cascaded down their back like a river of gold, and their laughter was like the chiming of bells as they dipped their toes into the water. They looked up as Polites approached, their eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, what have we here?” They said, their voice melodic and teasing. “A sailor, lost in my woods?”

Polites blinked, momentarily at a loss for words. She was stunning, and the way she looked at him made his heart race. “I—uh—wasn’t lost, exactly,” he managed, scratching the back of his neck. “Just… exploring.” The nymph laughed, hopping gracefully off the rock and stepping toward him. “Exploring, are you? And what have you found?”

“Something beautiful,” he said before he could stop himself, his cheeks flushing as the words left his mouth.

Their laughter rang out again, and they circled him, their bare feet barely making a sound on the soft grass. “Flattery will get you everywhere, sailor.” Polites grinned, relaxing a little under her playful gaze. “Then I’m in luck, because I’m very good at it.”

“Oh, I can see that,” she said, stopping in front of him. “But tell me, doesn’t your captain and crew worry about you wandering off?”

“They worry too much,” Polites replied, his grin widening. “I like to greet the world with open arms. There’s too much wonder in it to spend all my time being afraid.” The nymph tilted her head, a thoughtful look crossing her face. “A rare sentiment, for a sailor.”

Before he could respond, a familiar voice called out from the trees.

“Polites!”

He turned to see Odysseus striding into the glade, his expression darkening as his gaze landed on the nymph. “Step away from it,” he commanded, his voice low and firm. Polites frowned, confused by the sudden tension. “Captain, it’s fine. They’re not—”

“Do not trust it,” Odysseus interrupted, his eyes never leaving the nymph. “It may look harmless, but I’ve seen too many men fall victim to charms like theirs.” The nymph smirked, crossing her arms. “Such cynicism,” they said, their tone light but eyes sharp. “You must be the captain. Always looking for the trap, never the treasure.”

Odysseus’s jaw tightened, but Polites stepped between them, holding up his hands. “Captain, please,” he said, his voice calm. “Not everyone we meet is out to harm us. Sometimes, you’ve just got to greet the world with open arms, remember?” Odysseus’s gaze flicked to Polites, and for a moment, he hesitated. Then, with a sigh, he stepped back.

Polites turned back to the nymph, his smile returning. “See? No need for all this tension.” The nymph chuckled, stepping closer to him. “You’re brave, Polites. Perhaps a little foolish, but brave.”

Before he could respond, they leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Her lips were cool, like the morning dew, and the touch made his heart skip a beat.

“Take care, sailor,” she giggled, their voice barely audible. “Not every nymph is as kind as I.” And with that, they turned and disappeared into the trees, leaving behind nothing but the faint scent of wildflowers.

Polites touched his cheek, a dreamy smile on his face as he turned back to Odysseus. “See?” he said, his tone light. “Not everyone’s out to get us.”

Odysseus shook his head, though a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “You’re lucky it was one of the kind ones. Next time, don’t wander so far.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Polites replied, laughing as he followed his captain back toward the camp. Odysseus shook his head again, Polites could have sworn he saw the faintest hint of a smile.

#epic the musical #epic the musical x reader #polites #epic polites #epic odysseus #polites x reader

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niiine · 7 months ago

Text

Characters. Xiao, Kazuha, Scaramouche

Random songs on my playlist

Xiao (Double take by Dhruv)

“Are you alright?” The gentleness in his voice snapped you out of your meltdown, the sound calming your anxious heartbeat. How he had this kind of effect on you? You’re not sure.

The yaksha lead you up on high ground, not high enough to trigger your fear but just enough for you to be able to see the lanterns that was decorating the night sky. The soft, golden glow reminding you of Xiao’s eyes— a flash back of earlier events find its way onto your head.

The sea of people in the port, how agitating it was, your anxiety burning your heart, your thoughts come running down to one action. Call Xiao.

You know it’s selfish to call for him as you are aware of his duties, that he may be resting or such, but your lips whispered his name even before you can comprehend the reasons why you shouldn’t.

“y/n. Are you alright?” It took him not a minute to reach where you are. Tapping your shoulder and looking into your eyes. You shook your head and now, here you are. Under the stunning lanterns that offers tranquility.

“Xiao?” You called out his name again, and he let out a tender “hmm?”

You turned towards the lad, admiring every features you could see. Archons, he’s beautiful under all these warm lights, and he’s looking at you. He looks at no one like this but you.

And yet despite the butterflies raging on your stomach, everything is peaceful. Moments with him were always mellow and placid, the stillness you need whenever the world is in chaos. Do you have the same impact on him? You don’t know.

After seconds, that felt like eternity, you finally found the words to ask him, “How did you find me?”

He looked at you in confusion. Like you just asked him the most ridiculous question you could ever think of. “How did you find me that fast? There’s so many people in the port…”

“Oh… I don’t know…”

I don’t see no body but you.

Kaedehara Kazuha (Blue by Kai)

“Kazuhaa!” was all it takes for the samurai’s heart to jump out of his chest. He’s going to see you; HE’S GOING TO SEE YOUR FACE.

“y/n. It’s good to see you today” The calmness in his voice were contrary to his heartbeat. But he cannot let himself be discovered— he can’t afford to lose this friendship with you, even it means you’ll remain just as friends.

You tackled the man and he let out a chuckle. Patting your head as a sign of affection. “Father allowed me to join the crew for this trip! I’ll get to be with you this time!”

The idea sound endearing in Kazuha’s ears. To spend months with the person he’s pining for, to have a chance to show off his skills— no, no no no. He’s not that kind of person.

“I bet you nagged him to no end for him to agree” you laughed at his words and it set his stomach spiraling once again. “Maybe, but I really want to go. So please just let it be”

You pinched his cheeks before running off to Beidou, giving the captain the news and asking for, of course, her permission for you to join the voyage.

“Loving the view?” Kazuha’s melodic words reached your ears, and you turn to him with a smile. The glistening water from the ocean reflecting on your visage, and sunset behind you cannot compare with how ethereal you look at this moment. At least in his eyes.

A surge of sadness clenches his heart, a thought clouding his mind. He will only taint this beauty, so he’d rather admire you afar.

You in his arms, your love in his care— it will be nothing more than an imagination, a dream for him.

“Kazuha, would it be selfish if I want you to be mine?”

Huh? HUH?

“What are you talking about?” The panic in his voice is vivid, so is the trembling of his hands. Is he hearing things right? Or he’s being delusional?

An awkward silence envelope the little space you two have, aside from the waves and the heavy breathing.

“Well— well of course you can decline! It’s… it is not like I’m forcing you, okay?” Your stuttering made the lad giggle. His warm chuckles painting your face red.

“y/n, are you blushing?”

“IT’S THE SUNSET”

Kazuha let out another burst of laughter before making his way towards you, his gentle digits reaching out to yours. You saw a tint of pink as he planted a kiss on your forehead.

“Kazu, you’re blushing”

“It’s the sunset.”

Know you're all that I want this life.

Wanderer (Best Part by Daniel Caesar)

*I’mma call him Scaramouche here, okay.

You awoke from a suffocating grip, body against body his breath hot and heavy. Scaramouche is having a nightmare.

“Scara. Scaramouche. Love, wake up”. You nudge the man as gentle as you can to wake him up, save him from whatever hell he’s dreaming of.

“y/n?” Your name was his first words, and it would have made you happy if you hadn’t seen the way his eyes look at you. A fragment of sapphire yearning for salvation.

“I’m here, I won’t leave you.”

You took him into your arms, kissing his temple. Your digits combing his locks as you calm the fear in his heart. You are grateful that he’s this vulnerable to you, but your angry at everything that made him this way.

“I don’t need your reassurance”

You smiled at his words; his arms tight around you contradicting it.

“I know, but I am not reassuring you. I am telling you.”

There’s a comforting silence that surrounds the room as Scara’s breathing steadies. Tomorrow, when the sun rises together with him, the lad will surely deny of this event. And you will let him off the hook by simply nodding to his arguments.

Or so you thought.

The sun was already high up, the streets were busy, and you can even hear Nahida looking for your lover. But to your surprise, and amusement, he remains latched onto your body.

You will NOT let this opportunity to admire him go to waste. Fingertips tracing is noseline, his eyes, his lips. The daylight that finds its way to his face only added to his divine looks.

“You’re beautiful”

You received a grunt as a response, and you chuckled. “I love every bit of you.” You whispered, and he opened his eyes.

Once again, you’re met with a piece of midnight. Boring holes into your own. You wouldn’t complain, though. You love his eyes.

“Come on, sleepy head. There’s plenty of things to enjoy within the day” You break the silence once again while rubbing your nose on his.

“This is what I wanna do for the day”

“But you’re gonna be bored. I’m not even supposed to be a part of your expedition today y’know?”

“That’s why this is what I wanna do for the whole day”

Because you’re the best part.

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