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#sinful
bas-writes · 3 months
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Neighboring Whispers (Higuruma x f!Reader)
Character: Higuruma Hiromi Reader: female (cis) CW: explicit nsfw content, pre-relationship, neighbors next door, attraction at the first sight, mutual pinning, hair fetish, hair pulling, blowjob, fingers in mouth, spitting in mouth, praise kink & pet names (good girl and variations), fingering & vaginal sex, spanking, creampie, reader has long, non-curly hair and tattoos (yes, it's plot relevant) Word Count: 9k Synopsis: By a pressing accident you were left without water in your apartment, and you were forced to beg your neighbor, Higuruma, for letting you to take a shower in his bathroom. Dazed after a sleepless night, he obliged to your request. The consequences of his spontaneous decision had been haunting him ever since... A/N: little birds chirped @lale-txt wanted a sexy lawyer under her christmas tree and since we were already doing a server exchange... ;) merry a little late christmas, Lale, I hope you will enjoy this absolute monster of a one shot! ❤
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The first ring was like an irritating fly, bouncing off the walls of his exhausted concentration, its dull buzzing drilling into his ears.
The second jolted him from head to toes, the first move in a prominently long time, aching and tingling in stiff joints and drowsy muscles.
The third finally made him peel eyes off the screen, his sight blurry and invisible sand grazing under his eyelids. 
Higuruma hid face behind the soothing shadow of his hands, plastered tight to his skin, and groaned, almost cursed. He was tired, so deadly tired he would swore he could feel the dark circles under his eyes. The dizziness was comparable to one after an unsuccessful power nap—yet, he knew he wasn't asleep even for a second. He couldn't, not when at work, at that damned work he swore he would touch only for an hour, two at the absolute maximum, and then go to bed, to finally grab proper rest for the rare free day to come. 
For how long was he stuck by the kitchen table, the place he had chosen to avoid the focus? Higuruma feared to peel hands off his eyes, but he still did so. The light, sipping through wide open blinds, was already bright and dazzling. The microwave clock was even more merciless: it showed a few minutes past eight.
Fuck.
The fourth ring was the longest, desperate and inappropriate for such an early hour. Under other circumstances Higuruma wouldn't welcome the intruder with open arms but at that moment he felt somewhat grateful for snapping him out of trance. 
"Coming." He announced, more to himself than to the person behind the door. Legs bent and swayed under him at first, he had to lean against the table for a moment, cursing his workaholism and age, but he forced himself to stand straight, then to walk. By the time he reached the door he was almost back to state befitting a man in his thirties, not a senior he got turned into by a sleepless, work-full night.
Higuruma didn't look through the peephole first, just opened, catching you already turning back. A whirl of long hair caught his attention faster than your face, not that it helped him much when he finally met it with his exhausted—yet still attentive—gaze. He could roughly pinpoint it as familiar but couldn't bring any name nor other particularly useful information to it. 
He knew you lived on the same floor. He knew you were often doing groceries in the same shop as him. He knew you both were sometimes taking the same train in the morning—but he had never caught which was your stop.
That's all.
"How can I help you, miss—" Higuruma's voice faltered; he was still trying to squeeze your name out of his memory, but his focus was already taking a different direction. There was something eerie about you, something concerning not as a danger for him but as a sign something must had happened, to you or to the whole surrounding. He wouldn't put it past himself to miss an emergency; when he was working, he could have easily overlooked a whole apocalypse. 
You were a mess. Possibly worse than his own. Uncombed hair, falling over your shoulders in tangled strands, greasy face, visibly home-only oversized tracksuit, blowzily thrown over your shoulders, a tote bag, overfull, squeezed tight to your chest… He wasn't a detective, but he could easily tell you left your place in a hurry.
"Y/N." You relieved Higuruma of his main concern. "I live at number 33."
You took a sharp turn, nodding to your door, but Higuruma's eyes barely followed, yet again swallowed by the sheer waterfall of your hair. 
"Alright, this is gonna be…awkward." You took a deep breath, as if adding yourself power to wade through whatever pressed on your soul. "Please. I beg. I need a shower."
"Pardon?" Higuruma almost choked on breath, shocked less by the sudden request, just rapidly pulled out of chaotic thoughts buzzing at the back of his head. Thoughts full of your hair and its flow, the suffocating and entrancing vortex. 
"I have no water." You nearly sobbed. "There's a renovation up there, I forgot… The whole plumb line is turned off on my side. I don't know when— Fuck, I have a meeting in three hours. I don't have time to run to a bathhouse, even if they would let me in…"
He must have made an exceptionally stupid expression because you stumbled out of your panicked trance and hurried to explain what he hadn't even deemed as needing any explanation. Hugging the tote with one arm, you rolled the sleeve of the other and revealed a tattoo running up the forearm towards the elbow.
He nodded with understanding.
 "Please, sir, no one else answers the door…" Your gaze flicked at him with such pleading that his already crumbling resolve immediately backed off, leaving him unarmed against you and your illegally beautiful hair. "I'll pay for the—"
"I charge only for legal advice, shower is a free service." Higuruma tried to squeeze a joke out of himself but with his exhausted expression he could as well recite a random sentence out of the case he was chewing through for the whole night. "First door to the left. Ah, and sorry for the…mess."
It was a massive overestimation, he realized a few of your steps into his apartment too late. His place needed a thorough tidying like fresh water. It wasn't dirty, at least that—but everything screamed "single, overworked, and too done to bother" at anyone who paid a minimum of attention. Dust, empty mugs and beer cans, takeout boxes piled into a temporary dumpster, any flat surface littered with books, files, loose notes, newspapers… Hey, he wasn't that bad usually, but you caught him in the worst moment, right before the day booked for being a responsible adult
Hell, he should have at the very least do something about his bathroom before he let you in. But you pounced at the door faster than his thought and he had to chew on his shame with the noise of his own shower filling the awkward silence around him. 
When was the last time someone barged into his life like this? The last relationship Higuruma could call a serious one had lasted before he finished his apprenticeship. With time slipping through his hands and wallet filling with money he had eventually stopped inviting his flings to his place. And in the past few years he had extinguished even this fragile flame that kept pushing him into love hotels with equally tired participants of seminars, coworkers, and random lays he had stumbled upon in bars and never bothered to remember their names. 
He couldn't see nor hear you, nothing over the hum of water, and yet, your presence was mercilessly crawling under his skin. He felt your breath at the back of his neck as he was tidying the space around in hurry. Maybe it wouldn't have been so palpable if you were a man… But a woman in his kingdom of the mid-thirty loneliness? Something about this fact cut a good half on his year count—and not to his advantage. He never pegged himself as shy nor crude to be bothered by a fact of a woman simply existing in his proximity, but…
It had been long, too long. And you were exactly in his type.
Exhaustion played a huge role at that, he was sure of it. Exhaustion paired with neglected libido and long-forgotten fetish perking their traitorous heads up at the slightest trace of your presence. You dropped something and shivers ran up his spine so hard he almost dropped his laptop too. A faint smell of fruity cosmetics reached his nose, and he couldn't remember anymore where he should put the papers he held. The hum of the shower finally stilled, and panic bubbled under his skin, cutting him short on sight and breath for a split second—split but long enough to mess with his balance.
You caught him like this, still bent over the table, at first glance nonchalantly checking something on the phone, in fact—fighting for the last scrap of dignity left in him. 
Higuruma observed you with the corner of his eye, tense like a string. It was easier to look at you now, with your hair meticulously tucked under a towel tied around your head, so he took that risk. Little did it help. The sight of you casually standing in the middle of his apartment, bare feet, damp shirt plastered to your sides, churned his insides with yearning that had nothing to do with lewd ideas. 
Yes, it definitely had been too long since he was touched with this level of intimacy.
"Sorry for the mess," he repeated himself, his voice feeling dry at his throat. 
Your laughter suited the sharp yet sweet scent of your shower gel, filling his apartment for hours to come, "I won't look a gift shower in the plumbing. Thank you, mister—"
"Higuruma," he quickly cut in before awkwardness managed to drag you into his misery.
"Higuruma," you repeated, mimicking his accent almost to perfection. 
He loved the way his last name rolled on your tongue. He loved it so much he had to turn away for a moment and bite on his own. Thoughts dancing in his head pressed too much to his lips. But he wasn't that much of a creep to let them do as they please. Just the fact they existed was putting him into embarrassment. 
Did you notice? Most likely not, too busy balancing on one foot to pull a sock, then shoe, on the other. With a tote tugged under your armpit and in a hurry, you clearly struggled, but Higuruma didn't move from his place, mindful of his sins and the situation overall. If you needed help, you would ask, until then it would be better, if he kept this distance. 
"I know you said no money but any chance I could return a favor in any other way?" You pulled him instead into conversation, much to the panic of his tongue, tying into clumsy knots at the slightest thought of speaking.
"It's nothing." Higuruma let the dream scenario fly over his head. He wasn't sure if you were flirting or just hated the idea of being in debt and in front of uncertainty, he preferred to stand his stubborn ground.
"You let a stranger use your shower." You didn't give up. You had the ball and you insisted on rolling it despite hurry pressing at your back, it seemed.
"My impossibly cluttered shower." Years in court made him more patient than a saint, even in front of a person crumbling his resolve into dust with a single flick of eyelashes. "I'd feel bad if I asked for something in exchange for such conditions."
"And what about me? I already feel bad for cluttering your space with myself."
"If I ever find myself without water, I'll know where to go."
You rolled your eyes and laughed again, your voice sharper this time. Higuruma wasn't especially sensitive with sounds but the change of yours immediately caught his attention and craved itself into his memory.
Oh, it was bad.
Dumbfounded, he didn't react when you pounced towards his abandoned workplace and snatched a piece of paper and a pen.
"I don't have much time left so—" You scribbled fast, digging deep into the surface, and yet clear enough for him to read with ease. "I'm a regular here. Come anytime and tell them Y/N sent you. The lunch is on me."
If not for the paper on the table and scent you left all over the apartment, Higuruma would classify you as a fever dream of an all-nighter the moment you sprinted out, apologizing and saying goodbyes all at the same time. He followed almost blindly, ready to shut the door as soon as you crossed the threshold (and cut you out before any weird new thought would haunt him). He already planned to air the whole place and scrub the bathroom out of your presence
He would, no hesitation, return to his cozy loneliness if not for a draft finally crushing the fragile construction on top of your head. Cascade of hair tore the knot apart, the towel slid down your shoulders straight into his hand as he reached for it without thinking twice and before it managed to untangle fully from the wet strands. They brushed his fingers, for a split time he felt their soft texture and weight, and his heart throbbed so hard he lost a good ounce of breath right there, over the threshold. 
"Sorry and thank you! Take care, Higuruma!" The door of your apartment clicked closed before the echo of your voice disappeared. He stood there even longer, pulse beating in his ears like a drum and his cheeks burning. It felt like hours before he finally forced himself back into his place, barricaded into illusive safety, hand pressed tight to his face, to muffle a loud groan.
His skin was still slightly wet and smelled of your shampoo.
Oh, he was so done for.
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He should have trashed that note.
It glared at him right from where you had left it. Higuruma hadn't dared to move it any way, himself not sure why, but instead of blending into the environment, as he was hoping, it stood out like a huge, bloody stain of shame. A reminder of what he had been praying for to be just a dream born out of exhaustion and sleepless night.
He was doing his best to not look at it. It attracted his eyes like a magnet.
In no time he knew the name and address by heart. His excellent memory, so helpful in his career, became his curse. One look in note's direction and his mind was already mapping the route. Of course, it had to be conveniently located, in the area he knew well, relatively close to his workplace, in distance perfect for a lunch break.  
If only he trashed this piece of damned paper!
Maybe then his mind wouldn't be plagued with ideas and temptation. Maybe he wouldn't have to sneak in and out of his own apartment like a thief, jerking at the slightest sound behind his back. He was leaving earlier, returning later, changing routes and shopping in a different 7-Eleven. Everything to not run into you—just to return to your scent still somehow lingering in the air. 
Higuruma was ready to swear you had somehow cursed him. Was it humanly possible to influence his life with only showering in his bathroom? The sharp and fruity scent grew stronger near the cabin, shaped in his mind like a vortex of your hair. Warm water falling on his head felt like your laughter, droplets traced down his chest and stomach like signs you wrote on the note, elegant and pronounced. 
Your name tasted sweet and heavy on his tongue. Higuruma didn't dare to say it aloud, but it lingered, a sweet aftertaste of a candy he couldn't bring himself to ask for. He still tried to weigh it, right at the tip of his tongue, slick as a feel of your wet hair slipping through his fingertips. 
Only once, he tried to put it into life, but it barely danced at the edge of his teeth and died with a miserable groan as he couldn't hold himself back any longer and spent the rest of his morning shower on furiously fucking his fist.
He should have trashed— No, burnt this note and thrown the ashes in the wind.
By the time his legs finally carried him, still against his will, to the address, Higuruma had already abandoned the idea of avoiding the problem. He wasn't quite there with an ultimate decision, but the desperation reached the level where he had to simmer it down. Giving in to temptation of seeing you again was only a reasonable decision; with some luck he would not find you there and, with a now clean conscience, he would finally get rid of the paper of shame.
Seeing the signboard took him aback. Higuruma didn't ponder over the location to expect anything, but he still froze in place, hand clenched stupid at the handle as he took a step back to look at the name again. 
It sounded like one of those modern, instagram-catered places for a quick lunch in a break from rushing through the city. It was nowhere close to what, in fact, the place was: a cat cafe, in its whole camp and overfly fluffy glory. 
Higuruma looked at the signboard, then took a peek through the window again. A fat tabby cat, loafing on a table by the sill, peeked back at him and slowly blinked. He took it as an order.
One deeper breath later he finally entered. Right by the threshold he was attacked by the suffocating, sweet scent, dangerously reminding him of the cosmetics you used in his bathroom. Panic roared at the back of his head but before he could listen and withdraw, he grabbed eye contact with a barista who had perked her head over the coffee machine.
"Good afternoon, sir." She smiled at him, as full of enthusiasm as professionalism allowed. "A table in a regular room or in a cat—"
"I have received a capias issued for a certain gentleman I found resting in your property." He said dryly, maybe a little too much as the woman's friendly expression tensed into a mix of stress and confusion. "Just joking. I'm not arresting anyone. I had this place recommended by an acquaintance of mine."
When he said your name, she immediately smiled (not without a breath of relief, he noticed) and dropped the mask of a perfect employee. He was stared at curiously now, from the tips of leather shoes to neatly composed hairstyle. Oh, he definitely was the main subject of workplace gossip—and would jump back into fashion once he left this place, no doubt in this matter. 
"My apologies, sir, Y/N mentioned you would show up but hasn't notified us when." She flashed him with a genuine smile. "You're in luck, she's stopped for a lunch today, she's in the cat room right now. Shall I—"
"I'll find my way." Higuruma quickly cut in. He wouldn't mind adding spice to the gossip, even if just to ease his own stress, but…somehow, the thought of being observed during an inevitably awkward moment churned his stomach in a very not good way. "I would like—"
He studied the menu at the blackboard. Most of the names reminded him of absolutely nothing. "Something… decadent and viral, how kids call it. Surprise me, please."
"Would you like something to eat?"
"No, thank you."
He was ordered to strip from his jacket and scarf and asked to keep his briefcase as close as possible. Barista took her sweet time to study him as she walked him to the cat room, on her way explaining in detail what was allowed and what not. Higuruma let the words fly over his head: he had no interest in tormenting poor animals (who and for what would want to pull them by their tails?), but even if he had, his plans would be undeniably ruined by your presence. He already felt his throat clenching—not in fear or panic but in the same kind of embarrassment he felt whenever his thoughts about you slipped into the direction, he'd been avoiding at all costs. All of his thoughts were decent at that moment, yet he was tense and flushed regardless. Something, from the depths of his intuition, was whispering that, no matter what he does and says, he would reveal everything that happened, in his mind and not, since the day he had seen you barefoot and with wet hair in the middle of his apartment.
It would straight up make him come across as a creep.
He didn't want to come across as a creep.
"And no apprehensions." Barista finished her lecture with a smooth joke and pulled at the door to the cat paradise.
The main part of the cafe was calm—but the cat room was even calmer and silent, no music, none of the steady hum of working machines. It was almost empty too but a small group of teenage girls, flocking around the table by a huge cat tree, and you, of course, in a cozy corner, leaning over a book. Higuruma's heart almost flipped in his chest at the sight and fluttered just harder and faster when you pulled a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. The move was slow, smooth and so sensual one would think you were doing it deliberately. 
But you were lost in thought, unaware of your surroundings and Higuruma's gaze taking in the view voraciously, straight up swallowing every inch of yours. From your face, beautiful in your calm focus, to the tips of your fingers, still tangled in the strands behind your ear—and down your back, together with the flow of loosely tied hair. 
His mouth was dry and full of saliva at the same time. A smooth starter he had prepared in a case of wonderfully bad luck just died, leaving him with tight, uncomfortable silence and head empty of thoughts, full just of the feel of the same hair against his hand. 
He hoped too that seeing you in a more presentable state would crush the intimate, inappropriate for your level of familiarity, appearance of yours he had coded. And eventually relieve him of the yearning that had nothing and everything to do with sex, all at once.
Fool, idiot, a hundred times a naive kid. Seeing you like this only made everything worse.
"Y/N! Your neighbor with a sexy nose is finally here." The barista chirped over his shoulder and bolted before neither of you both could react.
If the block in his throat was difficult to swallow before, now Higuruma could as well just suffocate and die on point.
"Higuruma!" You tried to feign a cheerful attitude, but flustered expression and sudden flap of both hands betrayed you. One of them was still tangled in your hair; you yanked it free from the ponytail and sent your ornate hair clip flying. It fell right by his feet with a little metallic thud.
"You seem to lose your head at my sight." Higuruma saw the opportunity to avoid your gaze and snatched it so fast he almost hit his head against the table. "Or I should rather say: things from your head."
His hand trembled under the weight of the little trinket. It seemed alright except for three zirconias that fell out straight into his palm, "Towel at least took it better."
You muttered a simple thanks and took the hair clip before he climbed up from his knee. Your hands met for a split moment and a sharp shock snapped up and down Higuruma's spine. 
He hoped he managed to feign his calm better than you.
The silence that followed was heavy but not awkward for a change. Higuruma found himself a new excuse to look away, subtle and polite, just right to give you space for collecting thoughts: the decor of the cat room was truly entertaining to observe. Higuruma never had a cat; he was very pleased to notice that the furniture he took at first for clutter was in fact a developed playground. Little creatures, intrigued or concerned by the noise, moved from their spots. Shelves, ottomans and line bridges fluttered with elegant steps and soft tapping of little paws.
Even the fat tabby turned its head and gave Higuruma a look full of pity.
"It doesn't click right," you finally broke the much needed pause, pulling his attention back to you. "Oh well. I really liked it."
"It is a pity." He agreed, somehow keeping voice in check. The last thing he wanted was to suddenly screech at you. Fate knows how much his throat tried to, though. "It really suited your hair."
He didn't get a good look at it but after so many thoughts recalling your hair in detail, Higuruma could easily imagine it from every angle. His cheeks filled with traitorous, familiar heat. At least he wasn't prone to blushing.
By the gleam in your eyes, he could tell you were about to pick up the flirting, but you were interrupted by the barista. Looks were exchanged over his head, a slight tick at the corner of your lips betrayed their nature, but his attention was instead pulled by a piece of latte art put in front of him.
They really took his request to their hearts. Milk foam on top of his coffee was piled into a chubby cat face. They went as far as adding eyes, nose, whiskers and a little cunning smile. Three stripes at the top of its head must have been made with coffee as a paint. He had to admit the dedication to detail was truly endearing.
"Oh. That's surprising." You hummed, more to yourself, but continued louder prompted by his furrowing eyebrows. "You don't look like someone who would order a cute latte."
"Oh? And how do I look?"
"Black coffee. No sugar."
"I like it very sweet, actually." Higuruma finally felt more at ease, tension melting down his shoulders so visibly he could swear it was happening literally. "With a dash of milk."
The first few sentences were always the worst, in law and flirting alike. Once he got a good grip of the situation, he could finally focus on the exchange only. You were a cunning conversation partner, fast to catch his jokes, smooth to follow the thread and bounce the ball back at him. You had quite a gamut of shared topics and he just kept growing more interested—no, fascinated. 
Your mind and soul were fitting his type even more accurate than your appearance.
And yet, Higuruma's thoughts kept bouncing back to the fateful morning, to the perfection of your body in its messy glory. He couldn't help but to compare all the time. A strip of your tattoo peeked from under your sleeve—and he knew how far it, in fact, reached. A contour of your bra was visible under your shirt—in almost the same place where wet spots had pressed since you had dried yourself in a rush. Your hair fell smooth over your shoulders, in heavy strands he was dying for to caress—because he remembered the sensation of their ends touching his skin. 
Over and over again, his flesh was taking over his mind. And it was…infuriating.
When something touched his calf, Higuruma nearly jolted. He managed to forget a little how tense he still was, illusion destroyed fast by a friendly tail, wrapping around his leg. 
The indifferent stare and chunky posture were already familiar.
"Oh, someone likes you." You cooed with a bright smile. "It's rare for Haru to come to a new client."
"She's being picky?" The lawyer leaned down, let the curious cat sniff his fingers before he gently caressed its head.
"He. He's a little fussy diva. Wait, maybe I'll encourage him a little—" 
You leaned to the side and behind to reach for a toy, move quite fast, and your hair repeated the vortex he had seen even before he had taken a look at your face. The almost painful churning in Higuruma's stomach rushed dangerously low; he coughed into fist to give a reason for leaning forwards. Haru snapped his head back at the noise, but instead of running away he leaped into the lawyer's lap, fitting tight the space between his torso and thighs. And successfully hiding the area that could become problematic at any moment.
"Thanks, buddy," Higuruma whispered and scratched him behind the ear.
"He really likes you." You laughed, by no means offended for your sneaky plan to fail before it had started. "You're so natural with cats."
"It's only one of my talents." He flicked his gaze at you, his hand resting full on the cat's head, deliberately swept along the line of its spine. "Been always told I'm good with my hands."
The risk was exceptionally calculated, even for him. But it paid off with sparks of interest flickering in your eyes and fast, so easy to miss, bite at the side of your bottom lip.
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The note had been replaced by a hair clip.
Higuruma hadn't even thought twice when he had sprinted out of work straight to a jeweler. His mind and soul had been in a different place, entranced by your number freshly saved on his phone, and hadn't perked up even at the significant amount of money he had spent on a golden clip. 
The coincidence had been too good to be just a wink of fate: the design was almost identical to your old one.
Complications had appeared after he had come back and grabbed much deserved sleep. Fresh brain had pushed the old scruples back to the surface, and the would-be gift had ended on the kitchen table, leering at Higuruma as he was sneaking by, in shame and trying to look away.
Since the cat cafe date, you had met at least five times. All meetings had been rather non-committal and platonic, and the closest he got to fulfilling his fantasies had been a gentle kiss on his cheek he had earned after a movie. Yet, Higuruma knew there was a prominent spark of interest on your side. So far you had answered all of his advances with eagerness if not straight forward had been playing with him as if he was a cat on the other end of a teasing wand.
He was still feeling ashamed of himself but didn't intend to let such an opportunity slip through his hands. All he needed was that last step…but he couldn't quite grow spine to finally make it.
So the hair clip kept glaring at him, and he kept ignoring it, as much as he could at least before he was caving in to all those temptations leading him to late night shower fantasies.
By the time he heard you ringing to his door he even managed to forget about it a little. Well, he was deep in work again, his mind finally free of all red-hot thoughts and quandaries—until said sound pierced him like a stray bullet. He knew immediately it was you; he couldn't explain why and how but he knew. The rush of blood thudding in his ears for once had nothing to do with anxiety—this time it was a genuine excitement, hope even, if he dared to somewhat name the vortex of his thoughts. This was but just a little change; it meant nothing for heat building in his cheek nor for trembling of hands he barely tamed on his way to the door.
Before he opened, he had to take a deep, hopefully calming breath.
"This is gonna be awkward again." You admitted with a shy smile. "There's no heating at my place. And no warm water. "
Your appearance was a stunning middle ground between the scrupulously crafted look you donned for your little dates and the casual home-only mess Higuruma had learnt the day you got to talk for the first time. You were still dressed neatly but disarray had already sneaked with crumpled fabric, rolled up sleeves and the mess of your hair, barely tamed with a hair band. 
A loose strand fell out of it, and you tugged it behind your ear, with the same smooth, sensual move he had learnt by heart. Higuruma swallowed, a bit too audibly for his comfort.
"I can offer warm tea and warm company," he moved to the side and gestured towards the apartment. At least this time the mess was more tamed; since he had been caught red-handed, he paid more attention to the state of his surroundings. 
It couldn't possibly be a more obvious excuse, but Higuruma's thoughts were speeding too fast to do something more than taking a mental note. He intended to guide you towards the living room, but you took your guest rights to the fullest and chose a seat by the table in the kitchen from where you were piercing him with a curious gaze. In a calmer state Higuruma would pay more attention and take note how strategic your move was—but he was too busy masking his stress by preparing the tea and snacks. Before the doorbell, at least a shadow of the hair clip had existed at the back of his head. Now the whole trace was gone, replaced by all his dreams and worries packed into a single vortex of inner and somewhat controlled panic.
Why was he so nervous? He had no reason to delve into his thoughts anymore. All that was left was one of you finally tugging the rope to their side. You were right there, behind his back, twisting a strand of your hair around your finger, legs crossed just right to roll your dress up your thighs a little. Part of him was itching to turn and pull you into his arms, to bury his face into the back of your neck, to trace your tattoos and check how far they really reach. The other kept spraying the horny demon in him with cold water—and by far winning at that time.
If only you gave him a little more prominent sign…
"A hair clip?" As if reading his mind, you sprung forwards. "It looks like mine… Where did you get it?"
Higuruma almost dropped the cups with tea.
"Oh. That." He had never been blessed his experience with stress-taming than he did now. He needed only a single breath to look presentable again. "Well… Now it's my turn at the awkward merry-go-round. Was supposed to be a gift."
He set your cup in front of you, his hand almost free of trembling. Your gaze grazed over it for a second before it flicked back to the accessory, by "chance" placed right within your sight but out of reach, "Gift?"
"Replacement for the one I broke." Higuruma had no choice but to grab it himself and offer it to you on open palm. "I plead guilty and have already paid a fine."
You said nothing but he could read from your face his choice was simply perfect. You gently traced its edge, almost took it, but at the last time you withdrew, your eyes full of sultry gleam. "Thank you. It's so pretty. But you shouldn't have—"
"Oh, I should. And I loved it." Higuruma already knew where it was going. He felt sweat pearling at his temples, a single droplet traced down the side of his face. "It's but a pleasure to offer beautiful things to a beautiful woman."
You traced the clip again, with more prominent pressure this time, such a perfectly feigned hesitation. 
"Then…" Your gaze wandered up and locked with his. "Would you like to clip it in?"
Higuruma's knees nearly gave up under him when you, no longer waiting for his answer, let your hair flow free. With a single shake of your head, you spilled it all over your shoulders for him to gather it again, smile dancing at the corners of your lips a shameless proof you knew exactly what you were doing. 
Were his thoughts that obvious? Were his sinful dreams written all over his face? Was he being pulled into a trap from the very beginning? 
As if entranced, Higuruma approached you from behind. Even with explicit permission he was more than gentle when he caressed your hair from the crown of your head to its tips. It was smooth like velvet, far more than he had imagined it to be after the brief contact. 
The flame inside him churned and roared, pulse thudding in his ears muffled down all the other sounds. Hands shaking, he started gathering your hair to the back, into a single, thick thread he tried to hold firmly for the clip. He feared to tug too much; if he slipped once, he knew he wouldn't stop, the loose yet so heavy knot around his fingers just waiting to be tightened.
In the wildest fantasies flowing through his dreams Higuruma hadn't considered it to feel so good, almost too good to be real.
He couldn't hold it for longer, he let go, watched your hair spill again in awe, his throat dry and clenched. Threading fingers through it, he reached deeper, brushing at your scalp, and noting, pleased, a low, purr-like sound you made. Entrancing smoothness pulled him yet again, though, and he combed the strands to their tips, and returned to the crown of your head, over and over and one more time, and more—
"You don't have to be so gentle," you hummed, arching into his touch with no trace of shame. "I quite like it pulled."
Higuruma swallowed the hook together with the rod.
He gathered your hair into his fist, wrapped it around, and slowly—but with prominent power—pulled your head to the side, exposing your neck to himself. You mewled, following the move without further encouragement, giving him better access in the most arched, sweetest way possible. He leaned closer, his lips an inch away from your skin as he soaked in the familiar, sweet, intimate scent. The choice between possible routes was hard but eventually he settled on the most shameless one. He kissed your ear, brushed his lips right under it, and dived straight into the source of the fire burning him through all this time, through weeks that felt like ages. 
The softness of your hair was even more intoxicating when Higuruma felt it against his face. The first tasting nudge found your approval, so he went for a shaky, almost desperate breath of your scent, so rich and so throughout yours. It was a sin to abandon it, but he knew he had to discover more—or else the doors to the forbidden garden might push him away and shut closed. Shaking and almost sobbing in immense pleasure and happiness, the lawyer trailed his kisses back to your neck, then down to the curve of your shoulder until he felt the seam of your dress under his lips. 
"Hiromi…" You pleaded in whisper, for the first time calling him by his name. "Kiss me…"
Hand still tight in your hair, Higuruma tilted your head stronger to the side and leaned over your shoulder. Your noses brushed awkwardly before he finally found your lips. He expected it to be slow, just a little peck for a starter, but you apparently just waited for it. You grabbed him by the tie and pulled, your tongue slipping into his mouth without a warning nor hesitation. He let you take the lead at first but soon your advances weren't quite enough for his voracity, and he answered you with even greater eagerness.
It was his first kiss in so long and one of the very few so intense. You were barely stopping for a breath, one immediately pulling the other back when it halted. Higuruma's head was spinning, from lack of air and overflow of emotions. His heart was beating so fast that he danced on the line of fainting right in front of you, no wonder you guided him as you liked despite his hand clenched in your hair and kisses swallowing your breath.
You stood up and pushed him against the table, finally giving the both of you much deserved break and freeing each other of the tight clutch of your hands. 
"Lemme," you nipped at his ear shortly after. 
Gasping for air, Higuruma watched your advances with fascination. You unbuttoned his shirt with a casual knack and pawed at his hairy chest, trailing down the dark line towards the hem of his pants. Part of him was relieved to have his hard, almost painful, erection finally freed—the other dusted his cheeks with embarrassment. So fast and so easily… He wasn't a teenager anymore, his desperation was almost shameful.
Little did you care, almost shaking yourself when you fell to your knees and peeled his pants and underwear out of your way. You licked your lips at the sight of his hard, throbbing cock, and wrapped fingers around it. A few testing strokes later, you brushed a droplet of precum off his tip with a thumb, then leaned for a little, almost cute kiss.
"Shit…" Higuruma muttered through clenched teeth. For once forgetting about your hair, he held on to the table for his dear life and focused on not cumming right on spot. Unaware of his fight, you continued with teasing kisses and kitty licks towards the base. With the tip of your tongue teasing the sensitive skin of his balls you almost sent him flying; to stop orgasm from coming he bit his lip so hard he almost cut it to blood.
"So full…" You cooed, unawares of his struggle. Higuruma didn't dare to look at you—a futile effort as he could easily imagine what you were doing just by the feel of your lips and tongue at work.
"It's been… A while— Fuck!" As if it would help him if he held his breath and closed his eyes. Your mouth was so wet and hot and sucked him off with such fervor he was ready to beg you to slow down. It was illegal for a simple blowjob to feel so good; was it your skill or his desperation, all of it mixed with the tension building up relentlessly through the last few weeks—it didn't matter. Various thoughts were speeding through his mind, but he quite literally had no power to process them. 
Higuruma mewled your name, a pitiful whimpering sound that clenched his chest with almost painful embarrassment. He felt your approving hum vibrating around his cock as you slid him into your throat, until you reached a depth comfortable for you, and started bobbing your head along his length. His imagination reached its peak of capability, drowned into comfortable darkness he desperately tried to enforce on his poor, tortured brain. So slick and hot, so tight when you hollowed your cheeks and sucked, balancing right on the thin line between ineffable pleasure and discomfort.
You were on a mission to suck him dry—and he had no power (nor desire) to oppose you.
Yet, with the tension relentlessly building and nearing its peak, Higuruma put every ounce of his might left and peeled one hand off the table to immediately tangle it in your hair. You chirped, pleased, around his cock, clearly expecting a pull towards—not backwards. Eyes wide open and dark with desire, you gazed at him with upper confusion. You didn't even close your lips, a string of saliva still connected them with the tip of his dick.
"N-not like that…" The lawyer managed to choke out between desperate draughts for air. "I want—"
Thank goodness you read his mind like an open book. Otherwise, he would stutter there to the kingdom come and back, like a dazed idiot he was.
"Bed?" You nuzzled your head into his palm. The temptation to pull grew stronger again, so strong that Higuruma's cock twitched just at the thought. He quickly withdrew, brushed his fingers down your face to wipe saliva off your lips and chin. At the desired level he hesitated—and brushed a little string of drool back into your mouth and deeper. If you were surprised, you hadn't showed it, instead opening wider for him and swirling your sinful tongue around his digits.
A wild idea crossed his mind, a kink he had tried with one of his past partners but hadn't quite brought it back until now as he was fucking your mouth with his fingers and staring at your drool pooling inside and dripping down your chin, first droplets falling on the front of your dress. He didn't dare to say it but a move, expression or the whole situation must have betrayed him yet again. 
You pierced him with an understanding gaze and nodded.
Higuruma slowly withdrew his fingers and grabbed your chin, soon tilting your head back. With his throat so dry it took him quite a moment to gather enough drool, but you waited oh so patiently, your eyes closed and your hair flowing down your head with the heave of your heavy breathing. 
He leaned down and let his spit slowly drip down from the tip of his tongue, straight into your wide open, waiting mouth. Your whole body trembled and a little mewl broke through your lips as you let it slide down your throat.
"Such a good girl…" The guttural, heavy with desire voice that got out of his throat surprised even him. "Swallowing everything for me…"
He did it two more times before he couldn't find more spit to share. Instead, he returned to torture you with his fingers, playing with your tongue and testing how far he can reach before you gag around them. With great pleasure he was surprised to not find this moment despite trying really hard.
"If you're gonna torture me like this—" You warned with an impish gleam in your eyes as soon as he gave you a break. "—I won't hold it for longer and make you cum with my mouth."
Higuruma leaned against the table and cooled his head down with a few deep breaths.
"Bed," he agreed with the unanswered question of yours and helped you get up.
Yet again you took the lead and straight up herded him to his bedroom. When and how you figured which was the right door, he had no idea, but he also didn't ponder over this fact too much, too busy with not tripping while kicking his pants out of the way. You both fumbled at the threshold, tangled in clothes you desperately tried to get rid of while kissing each other blindly, until the lawyer finally found an upper hand and pushed you inside and then on top of the bed. 
You started rolling the dress up, but Higuruma shoved your hand out of the way and reached beneath you for the zipper. It gave up so easily he worried for a moment he broke something, but you just graciously wiggled out, freeing your shoulders and breasts. The sight messed with his momentum, a heavy lump stuck at his throat, and he had to close eyes for a moment to not cum on the spot.
You finished rolling your dress down your hips and snapped your legs open with great impatience, "What, have you changed your mind?"
Higuruma cursed under breath, wiped his face with both hands—and immediately dove for it much like a bird of prey. Avoiding the temptation of your hair at all costs, he focused on your tattoos instead, tracing them with his tongue and kissing. He had no idea you had so many of them, in so many interesting places he was dying to explore and to cover with hungry hickeys. 
But he was also aware of the burning hard problem below his waist, so he didn't waste a droplet of time. He reached straight between your legs, hummed at the feel of soft bush brushing against his fingers and spread your labia open.
"So wet for me, baby girl?" He breathed against one of your nipples before sucking on it with fervor. 
A needy mewl was your answer as you bucked your hips, trying to steal friction from his palm. He didn't hesitate from giving you all you wanted, two fingers sliding into you at once. Just the squelching tight sensation was enough for a wave of pleasure to crush against him; with a whimper Higuruma thrusted dry against your side, staining your skin with precum.
"Fuck, you're so sexy…" His voice was breaking with desperation, but he kept a reasonable pace with stretching you. Your tightness was so hot and intoxicating, but he worried he could hurt you if he hurried the matters too much. If he made a mess and embarrassment out of himself because of it, he would take it, as long as you hadn't felt any unwanted pain. 
You read him right yet again and grabbed him by wrist, "I'm ready."
His next move hadn't met the same patience as you whined when he left you on the bed to look for condoms in the drawer.
"It's okay, I'm on pills." You pulled him back by the hem of his shirt and slid it away a moment later, leaving him completely naked. 
Clawing at his shoulders you kept nudging him until he was back in his place, teeth grazing at your neck. You fumbled in sheets warming each other up and experimenting for the last time before the main event, both of you growing impatient beyond tolerance. 
"How do you want it?" Higuruma rasped into your ear and bit at its shell. His cock throbbed with warning at the sweet mewl of yours; he knew he wouldn't last much longer if he kept edging himself.
"You can be rough," you whined without a hesitation as he pushed himself on top of you again. "I'll just tell you to stop, if needed. And hair—"
"Got you."
He pressed a quick kiss to your lips and gave you space to roll on your stomach and climb on your knees. He tried to not stare too much, just a glimpse of your ass arching for him, your hips swaying with invitation, put his blood pressure to alarming limits. Lining himself up at the best angle he could find, Higuruma kneeled between your legs and kneaded your cheeks. He loved how his fingers dipped into your soft flesh, but he didn't quite have enough time to appreciate everything you had to offer.
"Hair," you reminded him, looking over your shoulder at him with such heat in your eyes that a harsh shiver ran down his spine.
"I got you, my sweet girl." Higuruma leaned over your back and kissed the nape of your neck before taking a fist full of your hair. He hadn't pulled on it just yet, waited for the perfect moment when his cock slid into you and nestled comfy between your slick, tight walls.
He needed a break again, an inch away from an early finish. He kept the fire simmering by peppering you with bites and kisses, the grip on your hair kept satisfyingly strained until he felt he could move freely. 
A single deep and shaky breath later Higuruma finally rose straight to his knees, pulling you with himself until you arched your back and mewled. A tinge of pain was audible in your voice, but your cunt fluttered around his cock, and you hadn't said anything, so he followed with the plan, trusting your words from a moment earlier.
"F-fuck…" He muttered as he bottomed out, hips pressed flush to your ass. "Such a good girl you are…"
You stated your limits clearly, but Higuruma didn't want to test his luck. The grip on your hair was more than enough to satisfy his wilder side—and still he refrained from yanking your head too much. Just enough to have your back tense like a string as you were taking each one of his deep, desperate thrusts. More out of curiosity than anything he smacked your ass with a juicy slap, the sight of your body rippling from the impact so powerful he had to slow down and wait through another dangerous close call.
"Hi… ro…" You struggled to call for him, one hand clawing at sheets, the other between your legs as you played with your clit. He clenched his teeth and spanked you again. You responded with loud and enthusiastic moans, the best music he heard in a long, long while.
The finish was really close. Higuruma's hand clenched hard on your hip, maybe even bruising you in process, but then his focus narrowed to your union only and its unbearably hot, slick sensation that kept swallowing him. All he needed was your high first; he didn't want to go there without satisfying you at least this much. Your sweet sounds and trembling body were giving him good guidance—and he kept repeating what he was doing until the tight knot in your abdomen finally snapped and you spasmed in his hold, the tight clench of your pussy sparking friction almost too intense for him.
It didn't take long for him to finish too; a few erratic thrusts later he spilled his seed deep in you and collapsed on top of you, pressing you tight to the mattress.
Catching on breath, almost blind from exertion, Higuruma kissed your neck right under the hairline and buried his nose at the back of your head. You didn't make any sound under him, and he worried he might have pressed you too hard—but as soon as he shifted his weight to side, you budged and protested with a weak mewl.
"Stay." You reached behind and threaded fingers through his hair. He shivered under the gentle touch, almost literally melting when you kept scratching at his scalp and playing with his sweaty strands. 
"I'm staying," he promised and nuzzled close, flush against your back, cock still nestled deep in you. Frankly, even if he wanted, he didn't have much power left, just enough to roll to the side and collapse there for good. But he loved the intimacy of this moment even more than sex before, the warmth of your body, the rhythm of your pulse, the smell of your sweat covering your skin with a thin, sticky layer.
"Fuck, I think we need a shower." He mumbled to himself and chuckled, sure you had snoozed in his arms, but you answered the laughter and reached for his hand.
Higuruma gladly intertwined fingers with yours.
"I'd love to see your shower again." You kissed his knuckles, a smile pressed to your lips. 
736 notes · View notes
disciplesofhim · 3 months
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Any law made can't make up for any bad things that still happen!
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heyitsdoe · 7 months
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A/N - This piece is a severely long overdue commission for the lovely @death-threats Thank you so much for putting your faith in me for your request here, and with any luck I'll have done it some justice. <3 Enjoy ^_^
WARNINGS: Threesome, praise kink, rough sex, blowjobs, dirty talk
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You notice them the moment they make port. 
No stranger to pirates limping their way into your seaside town’s little harbor, the sight of the emblazoned sails and a jolly roger barely make you do more than blink. Surely, the skull with flaming hair and a dagger was supposed to intimidate anyone who was unfortunate enough to see it. That, or the gaping maw of some massive fish-like creature that preceded the front of their ship. Your brow raises, wondering if it had once been a living being or if it was just made to look that way.
They’d had a rough time through Devil’s Reef. The razor-sharp coral and rock deposits that jutted up just off the island’s southernmost point was a danger to any sailor familiar with them, and downright near-fatal to those ignorant of their existence. The ocean’s current dragged any passing ship through their watery claws, damaging keels and hulls and bulkheads if one weren’t careful. And, that’s if you even made it out without being crushed or capsized by the unforgiving sea.
These pirates were spared the harshest fate at least, though not without scars. Judging by the way they disembarked from the gangplank and stood around the ship’s hull with shaking heads and animated conversation, they’d sustained some sort of damage, if the gesturing arms were anything to go by.
Just as you knew they would, the handful of crew soon decided that surely there must be someone in town who could provide them with the help they needed to bring their vessel back up to sea-faring condition. With a patient gaze, you watch as they speak with nearby locals, who all end up pointing the same direction.
You try not to let the amusement show through your eyes as they inevitably make their way to the front of your little wooden, ramshackle shack. Judging by the scowl on the redhead’s face as he steps up to speak—the captain, presumably—you weren’t entirely successful in doing so. Oh well.
“You’re Y/N?” Is his gruff and unkind question, arms of flesh and metal crossing over his uncovered chest. You contemplate the handsome sight in stride, filing away that fact for later. Neither do you miss his curious perusal of your uncovered tattoos. Which, in your curve-fitting tank top, reveals quite a number of them.
You take a moment before answering his question. “I am.”
“I’ve been told you can fix my ship.”
You look away from his stare briefly to gaze over the large vessel they’d docked at the port. Despite the distance, experience had taught you the difference between a ship with a few planks busted and one that was beyond salvage. This ship, you knew, still had life left in it to sail. How fortunate for them.
A smirk settles in place. “I could.”
The redhead went to speak, but the man beside him with his face hidden behind a striped blue and white helmet beat him to it. “How much are your services?”
“Expensive.” You admit freely, leaning comfortably against the wooden frame of your home. By all accounts, you fit the visible definition of ‘smug.’ His friend, you decide, is just as delicious as his redheaded companion. There’s no need to see his face to make that observation. The way he carries himself, the way he speaks, is evidence enough.
His helmet remains trained exactly on you. “How expensive are you talking?”
“Depends. What do you have?” You question without hesitation or remorse. This wasn’t the first time you’d dealt with men who believed themselves dangerous, so the flash of anger behind the captain’s eyes didn’t surprise you in the least. In fact, you would have been disappointed somehow if he hadn’t reacted at all.
He let out a curse and stepped forward aggressively, glare leveled plainly on you. “Name a damn price. A fair one. I don’t have time for con artists.”
One brow raised, unperturbed by the hostile stance. Wasn’t this one cute, thinking he could intimidate you? At least he was pretty. “You do know what this place is, right? Didn’t you read the sign at the port?” You point towards the dock where they’d come from.
A pirate with light blue hair and grayish complexion, until then having been silent, looked back the way you indicated, then shook his head with a sigh. “Swindler's Bay…”
Whatever the town had been named before the locals had adopted the new one, you hadn’t a clue. It had been decades since anyone bothered remembering. For as long as you’d been alive, the little port city had boasted its reputation openly and proudly. If one didn’t take it seriously, well, that was their own poor judgment.
“Mhmm. Not like we didn’t warn you…” You mutter with a slow shake of your own head. You oh-so-loved the exasperation as it settled in their faces. Poor things, if only they weren’t in the New World, then maybe someone would have taken pity on their plight.
But this was the New World, after all. No one who made it here didn’t deserve it.
“So?” You ply, shifting on your weight on your feet and crossing your own round arms over your ample chest. “What do you have to offer?”
“Tch.” The captain, unhappy with such an answer, turned his back to you with an uncaring dismissal of his hand, the dark-red feathered coat fluttering as he did. “To hell with your damn services, wench. I’ll find someone else.”
You watch in silence as the rest of his men follow in his wake. Another smile creeps up on your face, and you lift a thick, tattooed arm in farewell. “Good luck with that, boys!” If they can sense the pointlessness of their situation in the sounds of your laughter, they don’t show it.
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It’s an entire 5 hours before they come back. All in all, you’re rather impressed they held out as long as they did. The island wasn’t that large. No doubt, the captain had stewed in his anger for a majority of that time before reluctantly agreeing to return.
A heavy, impatient knock at the door steals your attention. Not having expected anyone that day, you grin to yourself and lift out of your chair. Oh, this ought to be wonderful…
An angry redheaded pirate is the first thing you see when you open your shack door, glowering with resentment. Your idle musings in the past few hours had been correct. He looked just as fine a specimen pissed off as he did simply angry.
The hours of wandering and asking other residents where the nearest shipwright was had taken a toll on his patience. So much so that he didn’t bother with a greeting. “Name your price.”
“I hope you enjoyed the tour of the island.” You say, ignoring the way his eyes darkened even more as you stood there and disregarded his demand. “The wheat fields are especially beautiful this time of year-”
Something in his face snaps. “I’ve had enough of your-”
“Kid, don’t.” The masked man once again steps forward, laying a placating hand on his captain’s arm. It speaks to their bond that that alone is enough to get the man to back off, even if he isn’t entirely happy to do so. “She’s the only one who can fix the ship. We need her.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” He retorts bitterly, but you only laugh at the exchange.
“If you hadn’t gone stomping off in a huff, I could have told you I’m the only shipwright on the island. The next one is about 5 days sailing to the East, which…doesn’t really help you at the moment.” 
They’re silent, loathe to admit that you hold the cards in this little exchange. Pirates…fools, the whole lot of them. All the same. Though, these ones were a bit more handsome than the ones you typically dealt with. That was a bonus.
You savor the moment, the smugness, and their only hope, before your professionalism begins to kick in. You had your fun. Now down to business.
“How much do you have?”
Kid, as you’d learned his name to be, wasn’t all too thrilled to reveal such a thing. But it seemed his helmeted companion could put his pride aside long enough to move this conversation along. “Around 40 million berry.”
“...that’s all?” You ask, then shake your head. “That won’t buy you a new sail around here, let alone enough boards to repair a hull.”
“How much would you need?”
“I’ve dealt with ships passing through the Devil’s Reef for longer than you’ve probably been pirates. On a ship like yours?” You bother to glance over their shoulders to see their ship still sitting at the port. “The currents drag the bow further down into the sea, often damaging the beakhead. You probably felt it drag along when it swung your stern, right?”
You continued. “Keels are known to be cracked or even sheered by those reefs. I don’t see you tilling to either side at the port, so that shouldn’t be the case. But starboard side panels on the hull are usually scraped to all hell if you’re spared the keel, so…best case scenario? You’re looking at at least 100 million, if I can source the right timbers for it. And that’s only if Old Gill down at the lumber mill is in a good mood.”
The pirates turn to look at their ship as you describe the possible damages. And, you must have sounded competent enough as you went, they didn’t even question how you could possibly know all this without even taking a closer look at their ship. Good. It spared you the extra waste of breath.
Silence settled as you finished, but you began again before they could ask any questions.
“I wasn’t kidding when I said my services were expensive. But luckily for you, I don’t just deal in berry.” They eye you intently, trying to figure out what exactly you were alluding to. You only smile slyly. “I can get started on work with a deposit of 35 million and I’ll figure out what else I want from you by the time you’re ready to set sail. I figure that’s a decent price, given you don’t have much choice, considering.”
Kid seemed to come to life again at the mention of a solid price. He faces you again with hard eyes. “20 million and you have a deal.”
“33.”
“27. If this place is full of cons, I need something to feed and house my crew with, at the least.” He retorts.
“Why not just sleep on the ship? I’m sure you have supplies left over too.”
“If it’s not seaworthy, I’m not risking more damage than it has.” There’s a hard edge to his voice when he speaks. “We’re beached until it’s done.”
Your brow raises at his logic, but the smile remains in place. At least he was a decent captain, you surmise. Given the circumstances, you figure this was the best you were going to get without him raising further upset.
Right hand lifted in a gesture to shake his own, you nod. “27, plus whatever else I think of before you set sail.”
The ambiguity of your second condition makes him pause, but he nonetheless takes it. Not like he had much choice. His grip is firm on yours as you agree on the amount, and you decide you like the strength of this Captain Kid. Your eyes never drift from his, and you wonder if he can see the curiosity and intrigue swirling behind them.
“I’ll begin work in the morning.” Then, you notice the darkening yellows and oranges of the impending sunset. “Until then, I suggest you find somewhere to sleep before too long. The innkeepers triple their prices after 8 pm.”
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“Come to stare at me like a creep?” You ask without turning around, hammering the next board in place along the starboard side of the Victoria Punk. The presence had been there for a few minutes, and you’d waited that long to see if whoever it was would announce themselves, but thus far there’d been no clearing of a throat or shouting to get your attention. You figured it would waste less time if you just called them out.
“Just making sure you actually know what you’re doing with my ship.” The surly Captain replies, footsteps indicating he was approaching closer. “You don’t exactly look the part of a shipwright.”
“Is it my size or because I look like a woman?” You venture to guess, not bothering to hide the roll of your eyes as your voice drips with sarcasm. He wouldn’t be the first pirate to ask such a pigheaded question. And here you’d been thinking he was halfway decent for a pirate…
“Tch.” He even has the audacity to scoff at your assumption. “It’s the tattoos.”
Pausing your work, because he’d honestly surprised you with that admission, you spare him a curious glance. He stood a few feet from you, eyes locked on the hull of his ship, body language keeping a clear distance between the two of you.
Deciding you could take a break after a morning full of hard work, you set the boards down and swipe a wrist over your sweaty brow, turning to regard your visitor. “Lots of people have tattoos. I don’t see how that’s relevant.”
“Yours look significant…meaningful.” He admits, glancing briefly at your exposed skin and the ink that decorated it. “Like you did them yourself, or something.”
“I did.” You admit, pride showing through in the way you looked at your own handiwork. “A good friend taught me how.”
“Thought you’d be a tattoo artist, then.”
“There’s already a tattoo artist on the island, so it’s really nothing more than a side hobby.” You say with a shrug. And, upon seeing the confused look on his face, a wicked grin flashed in his direction. “We can’t really swindle people if there’s competition in the area, can we? One household per trade, that’s the way things are around here.”
You think you hear him mutter ‘bastards’ under his breath, but choose to ignore it.
“But yes, nearly all of my tattoos are my own. Took me years to finish them.”
“What about that one?” He asks, gesturing to your back. Clearly he’d seen part of the ornate design while you’d been working, between the fabric where your tank top didn’t cover. You wanted to smile at the thought that he’d been staring at your skin. “Couldn’t have done that one on yourself.”
“That good friend I mentioned’s handiwork. And my favorite, as it happens.” You say flippantly. “The last piece they did before they died.”
Your pirate visitor is silent after that, perhaps contemplative. Perhaps feeling awkward about the topic now that you’d thrown that tidbit in. You didn’t feel anything weird about it, and so you simply shrugged and turned back towards his ship.
“I should get back to work. Figured you’d want to leave as soon as you can, right?” Then, as an afterthought, you gave a chuckle. “And don’t forget. You still owe me for the work.”
“Have you figured out what you want from me yet?”
“Not quite. I’ll let you know when I decide.”
“Right.” He gruffs after a quick clearing of his throat. Then, before he steps away, he commands one final, “Quit slacking off and do what I paid you to do.”
“Of course, Captain.” Is your intoned reply, amused and ever-intrigued by the handsome and rough pirate. Oh, the possibilities…
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With the starboard side hull almost fully repaired, the Victoria Punk was looking a lot less weathered and pitiful than it had after being battered by the reef. It was a beautiful vessel, you had to admit. Bringing her back to her former glory was as rewarding as the payment.
The next day, it’s the first mate who comes to see you. The one with the blue and white helmet, you couldn’t deny you’d been curious about him since he’d so easily calmed his captain’s rage. Killer, you learned his name to be. How fearsome and yet…clear-headed.
He stays longer than his captain did, though imposes less as he watches your progress on their ship. With barely a word, he sits on a stack of beams amongst your pile of supplies you’d brought to the ship, and simply observes as you work tirelessly to repair the damage.
Another shipwright, another person, might have felt stifled with an audience. But you reveled in displaying your skills and beauty. And, with a shapely body like yours, it was no wonder you took the opportunity to flaunt. Every shift jostled your body in just a way to draw attention to the parts of yourself you wanted him to gaze upon. In shorts and a tank top, there were plenty of wonderful places where his eyes might drift…
What could you say? These pirates intrigued you to no end. Already, you had the beginnings of an idea of what you’d ask for of them before they departed.
Behind the lecherous temptation you projected was a pride in your work. The way you lifted heavy wooden beams, showing off the well-maintained muscles hidden beneath the curves of your larger body, gave you no small amount of joy. The speed at which you could fit a board and secure it where it needed to be, able to do the job of several people on your own. With any luck, even his limited knowledge of ship repair would recognize what a feat that truly was.
Unfortunately, with that helmet in the way, it was so hard to know if he was actually paying attention. What a shame…and yet you tried nonetheless.
“You’re much quieter than your captain.” You blurt out after an hour or two of his presence. “Although, I don’t imagine that’s very hard, from the little I know about him.”
“That’s a fair assessment.” He admits, and you think you hear a quiet laugh behind the mask.
You offer a smile, snatching up a nearby bottle of water while you pause in your work for the meantime. You lounge in a pose that invites him to stare against the part of hull that had already been repaired. “Did he send you to make sure I wasn’t slacking off?”
“No. Just felt like watching you work.”
“And? Have I bored you yet?” Your curiosity was piqued now.
“Hardly.” He summarizes. “You’re extremely skilled. I’ve seen a whole team of shipwrights do less work than what you’ve managed in two days.”
It’s impossible to keep the smirk of pride off your face as you sip at your water. So he had noticed…that was nice. “I enjoy what I do.”
“Enjoying it doesn’t necessarily make you good at it. But I see your point.” He says, standing from his seat on the wood and walking closer. He touched the newly-applied board you’d just finished nailing in and gazed over the work done thus far.
He’s quietly contemplative, and you let him dwell in his own thoughts for a moment, before looking over the vessel yourself. “It’s a beautiful ship.”
“Victoria Punk.” Killer mutters, almost reverent. You could appreciate a man who appreciated his vessel. “It’s gotten us a long way. I’m glad this isn’t her final resting place.”
“Sounds like she means a lot to you. I’m glad the reef didn’t sink her.”
“There’s that…and I’m certain you’d figure out a way to charge us for decommissioning a ship somehow.”
The laugh that springs from your mouth is unexpected, but you can’t help it. His humor had surprised you, but damn if he wasn’t wrong. You’d done exactly that to pirates in the past.
“There are better places than Swindler’s Bay for a ship to die.” You agree, the laughter beginning to die down to low chuckles. “Much less costly ones, at the very least.”
It’s silent again for a long while, as he thinks and you think and your minds are adrift in several directions. You gaze upon the first mate with a new perspective. What a man, this Killer…
Shaken from his introspection somehow, he steps back and looks your way again. “I’ll let you work in peace.”
“You’re no bother. I don’t mind letting you watch.”
A low hum makes it past the mask. “...So I noticed.”
Your mouth opens, half from shock and half to retort something smart, but Killer’s already turned away and started walking back towards wherever his crew had lodged for the duration of their stay.
The expression of shock slowly morphs into a half-lidded interest, mouth upturned into a lecherous little smile. Oh, you liked these pirates indeed…how fortunate for you they washed up into your port like this.
You knew what you’d ask them for.
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The repairs were complete, and the Victoria Punk looked like new where it sat moored in the port, bobbing along with the momentum of the sea.
With the starboard hull almost entirely replaced, and the finishing touches to the fearsome maw of the beakhead giving it new life, you gazed upon the results of your hard work with fondness. There was almost nothing quite like seeing a ship like this find its sea legs once more, strong enough to brave the New World sea that lay ahead.
It was there, standing along the dock, that Kid and Killer found you, gazing fondly upon their vessel.
“I’ll admit…” Kid said with an appraising eye, a grin threatening to lift the corner of his lip. “She looks good.”
“Of course she does.” You reply with a shrug, both out of pride of your craft and because the Victoria Punk had been beautiful to begin with. All it needed was some polish to the rough areas. “I’m a professional.”
“A damn expensive one at that.” He said with a low chuckle. Then, he turned to look at you. “You haven’t told me what it is you want as the rest of your payment.”
You regard him for a moment, eyes sweeping down and then back up his figure. He always was a sight to gaze upon, you think. “Not just gonna cut and run like most pirates do?”
“I keep to my agreements.”
“Honor. Hmm. So rare in pirates nowadays.” You mention, leaning back on one of the wooden railings that line the dock.
Ignoring your comment, Kid shakes his head and presses on. “Name your price, Y/N.”
Despite your attempt to remain neutral about it, you can’t help the slow smile that takes up your face as you think about your request. Fantasies and imaginations had been plaguing you all evening and even into your dreams. You only hoped they’d be willing to make them reality.
“My price…” Eyes glancing between the captain and his first mate, your head cocks to the side. “...is sex.”
Killer’s mask swivels to peer directly at you, silent. Kid, to his credit, doesn’t seem surprised at all. Perhaps you were just that obvious, or he thought highly of himself. If you had to guess, maybe a mix of both. His eyes narrow only slightly, appraising your body with an obvious and slow perusal upwards. They linger between your thighs and around your wide waist. Was he imagining gripping there as he slammed you down onto his hard cock? If he wasn’t, you certainly were…
“And not just any sex.” You go on, using the opportunity to spell out all your terms while you can. “I’m talking the ‘can’t walk in the morning,’ ‘a night I’ll never forget,’ ‘ruin me for anyone else who comes after’ kind.”
“What a brazen minx you are…” Kid steps forward with what you can only describe as a purr at the back of his throat, a wolfish grin now firmly in place. “If that’s all you want…I can give it in spades, Y/N.”
Chin lifting to meet his sultry gaze with your own, you mumble a reply. “Not just from you. Your friend here, too. My price is a threesome that leaves me a drooling mess, and you can sail away from here with your debt to me cleared.”
Killer makes a noise you don’t know how to interpret, and Kid swings to look at him. While you can’t see his expression or that of his masked friend’s either, you stay quiet as they ponder the terms of your proposal.
Truthfully, you don’t know what you’d do if they refused. It’s not like you could force them to fuck you senseless. They had all the power to steal away with their ship in the middle of the night without so much as entertaining your demand and you wouldn’t be able to really do anything to stop them. Sure, there was security at the port, but you suspected that any fight they put up would be crushed in the face of these ruthless pirates.
But, looking back at the handful of visits you’d received from both Kid and Killer during the course of the repairs, all bearing a flirtatious undertone you couldn’t deny, something in you knew he wouldn’t turn your offer down.
At least…you thought. You hoped.
Whatever unspoken exchange had occurred between the crewmates had apparently ended, because Kid swung his gaze back to your own with an intensity that had you nearly trembling. Oh…
“Tell me Y/N…” Kid reached up and gently grasped your jaw between the fingers of his hand of flesh, just as Killer stepped closer to the both of you. “Which one of us should paint that tattoo on your back white?”
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You thought you’d learned long ago, that dreams were nothing like reality. Usually, that was meant in a bad way. Disappointment and longing for something wonderful that could never really be obtained in life, and imaginations of a mind without limitations.
But as you welcomed the naked girth of Killer’s cock in your mouth—your spit wetting the skin of his shaft and dripping down your chin in thin streams as the head pressed against the back of your throat—while Kid’s length sank itself deep into your awaiting heat, you thought that for once, your daydreams paled in comparison to the real deal.
For one, you were used to be a bit bigger than most of the men who came stumbling and grumbling to your shack. But Kid and Killer were beasts of men, large and wide and built. You felt dwarfed between them, that thought alone sending a sharp thrill up your spine.
“You said you wanna be fucked, wench, so I’m not gonna hold back.” Kid promises in a breathless mutter. Even with one hand, his strength is enough to yank you back into each of his sharp thrusts. The fiend of a pirate doesn’t build up slow, just sets a pace he prefers and groans his pleasure behind you. “Be as loud as you want to…”
Each one hits so deep inside, your toes curl amidst the comforter on your bed. On your knees, your nose buried in the dark blonde curls of Killer’s pubic hair, you can’t see the captain’s expression. But hell, if the noises he was making were anything to go by, he must have been immensely enjoying himself. You’d kill to see how he looked turned on and fucking you…
Killer’s a bit less eager to be so rough so early, but he makes an effort to use your mouth for his own desire. That insistent hand at the back of your head nearly has you choking as his tip pushes harder at the back of your throat. You gag, only for a moment, and he pulls back just a bit.
“If only you could see the way you look on your knees.” The blonde mutters in a surprisingly adoring tone. “Gorgeous, Y/N, fuck…”
Your eyes track upwards to stare at his face—you’d been floored to see him without the helmet earlier, but no matter how long you look at him it would never not shock you—and you put further effort into sucking his cock like he deserves. The stuttered curse that leaves his lips as he throws his head back is music to your ears.
Between a captain so intent on wrecking you, and his sweet first mate caving to his carnal pleasures, you can barely think straight. You’d gotten what you’d asked for. By god, you had. And now all you could do was kneel there and take what they gave you.
Eager to please, your knees spread further on the bed beneath you, allowing Kid that inch or so deeper into your cunt. He growls his approval, the grip on your waist already bruising giving a little squeeze.
“Fuck, you’re something else…so wet around me, and just begging me to go deeper, aren’t you?” Kid’s mouth spills his dirty words, making you moan around the cock in yours. Killer breathes out at the vibrations of your voice, more of his restraint slipping away. “Hell, I would have fucked you even if you hadn’t made it part of the deal, wench…”
“Do that again, Y/N.” Killer demands in a husky voice, staring down at you with heat. And without any further encouragement needed, you oblige, earning a guttural noise from the back of his throat as he stares at you in awe, struck by the way you moaned around his length. “F-fucking shit…you’re good at that.”
Whatever response you try to muster is lost against the tip of his cock.
The pleasure is too much. The last of Killer’s restraint wanes and finally ebbs entirely. Kid’s hard thrusts encourage you to take him faster and with more vigor, and soon enough Killer’s buried both of his hands in your brown hair, pulling you into his own thrusting hips with little regard to if you can take him fully or not.
They use you, little more than a wet hole to seek their own release, and you’re swimming in a haze of your own lust. The pathetic little noises that get trapped around Killer’s shaft is all the reciprocation you can provide, thoughts funneling to how fucking good it felt to be between them. They’re rough and dirty and barely give you time to adjust to the new angle when they shift their hips. You’re dragged along with them on this sweaty, steamy, deliriously sexy ride and you discover you’re in no rush to get off.
So you take it, Kid’s thick cock claiming your cunt as his with every grunt and curse under his breath, and Killer’s doing the same to your mouth, praising how good you feel amidst his own keening noises. With the reflexive tears in your eyes, you can hardly see in the blur, and keeping balance with the force of both men’s hips as you kneel on the bed is getting harder by the minute, but this night would be burned in your mind forever.
You got all that you asked for. Even if you hadn’t asked for the 27 million berry, receiving these two cocks was more than enough for the days of work you had undertaken for their ship.
…would one night be enough? Fuck, you were a goner. Completely and totally a sucker, a goner. Watching them sail away later would break something inside of you, you think.
You’re certain you’ve reached climax at least once during this whole ordeal, though through the intensity you’re not certain. But as their speeds increase, their own releases drawing near and the curses spilling from their lips coming with increasing frequency, you too can feel that peak approaching ever nearer.
Killer is the first to reach it, his hand shoving your head all the way against his pelvis to bury his shaft to the hilt. Hot seed coats the back of your throat, and while you can’t help but gag once, you manage to take everything he pumps into you without complaint. You feel him shudder out a moan as the sensation of you swallowing it presses your mouth against his tip.
You’re not long behind him, eyes rolling back and you quake and tremble as the liquid pleasure consumes your every nerve, rolling down your spine to your toes and up through your shoulders live a wave. You choke out your euphoria, Killer’s cock still shoved into your mouth. Feeling the first mate softly pet your hair as you rock through the sensations has you fluttering your eyes shut in contentment.
Kid lasts another dozen thrusts, all faster than the last, rushing to meet that edge with a fury you’d never experienced before. And just as you think your overstimulation would be too much, he yanks himself out of your cunt and pulls your ass back against his hips, cock nestled between your cheeks and throbbing with each spurt of cum that coats the Oni tattoo inked to your skin.
The design was your pride and joy, but something about Kid leaving his mark on it did something to you that was difficult to explain. It was fucking hot, whatever it was…
The room is suddenly still, only your labored, panting breaths filling the space. Killer slowly extracts himself from your mouth, his cock beginning to soften and hang naturally. Your body feels electrified and raw, sticky and sweaty and your limbs like jelly as you kneel there between them. Your wrists are sore from planting them upon the bed, your legs tingling from numbness after so little activity.
Holy fuck…you were well and truly fucked.
Kid lets go of the skin of your waist, and you fall limp between them on the bed. It’s all you can manage at this point, needing time to recover from…all of that.
As the lust cools, the embers of heat dying and life shifting back to normal, an unfamiliar ache in your heart begins to settle. Trepidation. Sadness. That this would be the only time you’d experience something so beautiful…your heart broke for yourself. The world would feel so different after they left…
What you don’t expect is Kid’s dark chuckle to break the silence.
“Hey, Y/N. I’ve got an offer for you.”
You shift your head to peer his direction, brown hair sticking to your forehead in strands as you try gaining your breath back. “Oh yeah?”
“Join my crew, and you’ll get more than just one night with us.” His lecherous smile is laden with cunning that makes you shiver. With anticipation or fear, you can’t be certain. “I can see it in your face. You want more. Once isn’t enough, is it? Perverted wench, you’re drunk on cock and only ours will satisfy, huh?”
You’re silent, because your pride doesn’t allow an answer to such a lewd question. But the hope that blossoms in your chest and you assume in your expression is all the answer he needs. Kid leans over and grabs your jaw again, tilting your chin to face him directly.
“I’m willing to let you aboard my ship and sail the seas with us…but it’ll cost you.”
Your eyes flicker between his, intrigued. “What are you asking for?”
“What do you have?”
Amusement darkens your gaze and widens your smile, a coy little tilt of your head following. “27 million berry, and my permanent services as a shipwright.”
“Tempting.” He mutters, pretending to think it over for just a moment. “I think I’ll accept that for now. As for the rest of your payment, I’m sure I’ll think of something before we reach the next island. What do you think, Killer?”
“We’ll get creative.” He promises, gazing down at you with thick emotion you can’t name.
Kid nudges you to look at him again. “Deal?”
Some part of you wonders if this sort of decision one should ruminate upon, ponder, and analyze for some determined amount of time. Such a decision, to uproot the life you’d known since you were born, surely couldn’t come so easily. So then why, you think, was it so simple to say… 
“Deal.”
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sadistfather · 1 year
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repressedinterest · 5 months
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Yes, Father. Make me read about the sins of masturbation as I touch myself.
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galehowl · 1 year
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oh worm
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nekomacheercaptain · 1 year
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This is a small birthday gift for @standfucker !!! Happy birthday! 🥳
Reader is in an established relationship with Killer, and he asks her what she wants for her birthday. She admits a sexual fantasy where she’s used by two men —> Kid joins, and safeword and rules are established offscreen
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Pairing: Killer x fem! reader x Kid
Rating: explicit mature content (18+), NSFW
Word count: 4,5K
Content: female reader, rough sex, threesome,, double penetration, choking, hair pull blowjob, dirty talk, degradation, praise kink, creampie, nipple worship, marking,, buttplug, anal sex, dacryphilia, light bondage (Kid using his metal arm to restrain you), dom / sub dynamic, dom! Killer, dom! Kid, sub! reader
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“It’s almost your birthday, baby,” vibrations surged across your neck at his words, and you grew giddy on his lap, “and you haven’t said a word about your wish”.
You sighed, hands busy playing with his thick mane of hair, “I don’t need anything with you like this”.
You sighed, hands busy playing with his thick mane of hair, “I don’t need anything with you like this”.
He scoffed. “Good try, but you’re getting something, you’ve been quiet these past few weeks,” damn him being so observant, “tell me what you want”.
He pulled away, but not before he cupped your face while stroking his thumbs lovingly across your cheeks. His deep blue eyes, mysterious just like the ocean, locked gaze with yours, even through his disheveled bangs.
Your hands wrapped around his thick forearms, stroking his skin, “It’s nothing really, you don’t have to get me any-“
“Y/n,” oh god, anything but that, “I can tell you’re hiding something”.
And with those eyes he knew were your kryptonite, you couldn’t hold in your… fantasy any longer. The fantasy of being used by him and someone else in the rawest and most genuine sense of the word. And just maybe that someone else was the captain of the ship and your boyfriend’s best friend.
“Okay, fuck it,” noting the way you mentally prepared to tell him, he was quick to reassure you with a small peck on your nose, knowing how it always made you laugh. If even only a little.
“It’s fine, princess, whatever you want, it’s fine, okay?” 
The both of you sighed as he pushed his forehead against yours, just breathing in sync before you answered him.
“Okay…”
“So,” and once again you could see his eyes, expectant as they looked for something to uncover in yours, “I have this fantasy….”
You almost regretted opening this conversation with Kid sitting across from you with his hand behind his head on the wall and his feet tossed on the table, a huge, disgusting grin covering his entire face.
“Desperate for my dick, huh?”
“That’s literally not what I said”
“Oh, doll, you didn’t have to say it for me to know,” he lowered his head, looking at you like a predator would lock its eyes on a prey, “those eyes of yours haven’t been able to resist me”.
And he knew he got you when your eyes widened, his head back to rest against his hands, looking down at you past his nose, and he clicked his tongue.
“You haven’t been discreet, doll,” nothing would have pleased you more than to rub the cocky smirk off his face, “I wasn’t even thinking of any birthday gifts, but if my dick down your throat is all you want, who am I to say no?”.
And he laughed when you rolled your eyes, though a small wave of warmth pooled down to your core at the thought of being on your knees in front of your captain.
“We’re going to establish some rules first,” Killer finally spoke next to you, seeing how Kid was already far beyond undressing you with his eyes, “so babe, tell him what you had in mind”.
And for the next hour you had to pretend like your panties weren’t drenched because of confessions of fantasies in explicit detail before boundaries, rules and a safeword were in place. All that was left to do was wait for your big day.
“He’ll be here soon,” Killer traced his lips softly over your neck while his hands fondled your breasts over your shirt as he sat behind you, chest against your back, “there’s still time to pull back, in case you don’t want to anymore”.
“And risk him calling me a pussy?” you laughed, melting against his touch with a sigh, “Not a chance”.
He grumbled in response, wanting you to take it seriously, “Remember your safeword?”.
“Mhm”
“Say it”
You placed your hands over his, forcing him to squeeze your boobs harder, “Curry. There, happy?”.
“Very,” one of his hands slid down your body before gripping your thigh, spreading your legs apart to press his fingers against your clothed cunt, reveling in the small moans that escaped your lips, “Gonna be good for us today? We’re being nice to indulge in your fantasy, after all”.
“Mhm,” suddenly words couldn’t muster inside of your brain as his fingers rubbed up and down your slit before easily finding your sensitive bundle of nerves.
Killer quickly let his freehand grasp your chin, threatening to choke you if it went lower, and his voice was dark as he whispered into your ear, “Use your words, princess”.
“Yes, Kil, I’m gonna be good!”
Killer smirked against your skin before peppering kisses onto the corner of your neck, his hand falling from your chin to play with your breast once again.
It didn’t take long until Killer’s fingers pulled your panties aside to dive into your pussy. The sounds of squelching and your moans built up quickly and bounced off the walls, before your ears instinctively perked up at the sound of heavy steps approaching.
“You’re ready?” Killer’s breath was hot against your skin, using both of his hands to spread your legs in his lap, preparing Kid to a welcoming sight once he came through the door.
With eager nods and vocal consent, Killer whispered into your ear again, words meant to be shared only between you two, “Happy birthday, princess”.
The footsteps stopped outside of your door before the captain came barging in, about to say something stupid before he stopped in his tracks at the view of you; disheveled hair, a thin layer of sweat covering your exposed skin, and your legs spread wide with Killer’s fingers once again fucking you slowly as they were covered in your slick.
“Oh fuck me, the birthday party has already started?” Kid wore an expectant smile and hungry eyes as he took in the scene displayed in front of him, slamming the door behind before strutting towards you.
“She’s an impatient little thing,” Killer snickered into your neck, while cold metal met the skin of your chin lifting your gaze to meet the captain.
“Oh really? She’s that eager to be stuffed full?” they were already talking like your voice didn’t matter, and it was enough for you to let out a deep moan as Killer suddenly went knuckles deep inside of you, “Didn’t know we had a little slut on our crew”.
Kid’s eyes flickered over your still dressed body, and felt himself twitch in his pants at your lust filled eyes begging for his touch. And that filthy mouth of his. A dangerous smile lurked on his face as his flesh hand replaced his metal one, thumb stroking over your lips.
“Bet she would let Heat and Wire fuck her too”
The thought of your even bigger crewmates using you as well was a thought that hadn’t crossed your mind too often, but your body couldn’t hide how the fantasy affected you. Killer laughed softly against your skin when he felt you clamp around his fingers, but decided to not speak on it.
“Now, princess,” your eyes widened at how good the petname sounded from his lips, “I hope you’re not planning on walking for the next few days”.
Kid’s thumb pressed past your lips, and smirked when you sucked him in, tongue wrapping around his digit. Killer’s fingers pulled out to tug at the hem of your shirt, making you sigh at the sudden emptiness, wanting to be filled again. No needing to be filled again.
“She’s lucky she’s off duty,” Killer started, pulling the shirt up to reveal your breasts, his fingers tugging at your nipples, knowing how sensitive you were, “meaning we don’t have to hold back”.
Something shifted inside of Kid at his friend’s words, and seeing you so exposed. The captain had seen you in only bandages after a tough battle and revealing clothing before. But seeing you flushed and whimpering beneath him against Killer’s chest had him questioning things. How could something ever compare to this when he went out those doors again?
Pushing his thoughts aside to instead push his thumb deeper into your mouth, Kid laughed softly when small gagging sounds erupted from you as he met the back of your throat, adoring how your eyes started to glaze over. Tears started to build up in the corner of your eyes as he tested your limit. But still, he wasn’t going to go easy on you.
“Oh come on, princess, you’re starting to cry just because of my thumb?” he quirked down at you, taking a mental picture of your eyes staring back at him through your lashes, lips looking irresistible with the way they wrapped around his digit, and he couldn’t wait for how they would look stretched around his girth, “I bet you can’t even take my cock”.
He knew you too well, knowing a challenge coming from him could never go past you. His thumb slid out of your mouth to stroke your cheek as he knew he had won you over. Your hands found his belt, fumbling in what could only be described as impatient frustration to unbuckle them while staring back up at him in defiance, making him laugh in expectation.
You were not prepared for what fell out of his pants, the widening of your eyes and the way your mouth fell open exposing your shock. The same reaction you always had with Killer, no matter how many times you had seen his cock spring free in your face. Kid’s length hung heavy in front of you in all its girth and glory, making its intimidating presence known in the room. And it wasn't even hard yet.
“What? Starting to regret this or something?” Kid snickered down at you, hand snaking to the back of your head, “Too late for that, princess”.
His metalhand carried his heavy cock in his palm before guiding it to your mouth, your lips instinctively parting wide open, causing him to groan at the heat meeting the sensitive head of his cock as you enveloped your warm, soft lips around him.
“Fuck,” Kid growled, his hand pressing the back of your head towards him, his girth pressing further into your mouth until it met resistance, drinking in the small sounds of chokes and gags coming from your struggle to adjust his size.
Killer had softened his ministrations on your nipples, but with a devious smile pressed against your neck he tugged hard before palming your breasts, drinking in the sound of your muffled moans causing small vibrations around Kid’s cock.
Kid couldn’t hold back his groan at the sensation, hand suddenly grasping your hair right, “Shit - ngh - what a mouth! You fucking love this, don’t you, huh?”.
Not allowing you to respond, Killer’s hand traced down your body until his fingers were enveloped by your slick folds again, teasing his digits up and down your slit, causing you to whimper and buck your hips against him.
“She really does,” Killer chimed in, noting how your chest was heaving, legs shaking when he rubbed over your clit and how vocal you were even with Kid’s cock down your throat, “and she feels good, doesn’t she?”.
And he would know - thinking of how your tight throat struggled to take him when you first became intimate, how you would be so insecure about taking him  because you were afraid you wouldn’t be good enough. How wrong you were.
Killer was obsessed with the sight of your eyes looking up at him seeking validation, falling harder in love when you took him in further when he praised you, even if tears were rolling down your cheeks. The hot, wet cavern of your mouth would forever be one of his biggest weaknesses, just the mere thought of how your throat had adjusted to him so nicely after all this time could have him on the verge of staining his pants. How could someone have the first mate (and soon the captain) of the feared Kid pirates weak in the knees? 
Kid started a brutish rhythm in and out of your mouth, feeling drool fall past your chin and melt against his heavy balls at each thrust, “Yeah, fuck, she feels so fucking good!”.
Kid smiled down at you in disbelief, still stroking your cheek, drinking in your muffled moans and cries, suddenly pushing your nose against the soft hair of his base when you instinctively sucked him as Killer’s fingers fucked your pussy again.
“Fuck!!” Kid’s moan came out bellowed and deep, and he kept your head still for a few moments as he wallowed in the bliss your poor throat provided him, cutting your airway. 
The lightheadedness enhanced the pleasure Killer provided you, making you grind against his hand, your neediness for release taking over. With a pat of your hand against Kid’s thigh, he realized you needed a break for air, and you gasped loudly when his fully hard cock slipped past your lips, a string of saliva still connected between you.
His thumb swiped over your bottom lip, drying away the drool, and looked at you with nothing but lust and hunger as he bent down to kiss you roughly while cupping your chin, not caring if his teeth clashed with yours.
“Killer’s already prepared your pussy, huh?” he groaned against your mouth, hearing the squelching of Killer’s fingers thrusting into you, and you only hummed in response, feeling a knot in your stomach getting tighter.
“And her ass,” Killer boasted, biting your neck softly while pinching and flicking your nipple to make you moan louder, knowing you were close by the way your walls were fluttering around his fingers.
Kid scoffed a laugh before leaving your lips to chase after air, allowing you to moan and breathe freely, “Really? And you haven’t shown me yet?”.
“She needs to cum first,” Killer whispered into your ear, his hand letting go of your almost sore breast to your neck, knowing exactly how to place his hand to elevate your pleasure, squeezing tight, “isn’t that right, princess, hm?”. 
Kid smirked, getting the memo. And while locking eyes with you the captain slowly fell to his knees, getting on head-level with you, just to lean in and capture your right nipple with his mouth. His tongue riddled with expertise licked over your nub, sending an electrical shock down your spine, and your hands shot to his hair. A bellowed grunt rose from the captain as you pulled at his roots, needing to relieve some tension, just needing something to grasp as you felt yourself reaching your peak.
“You want to cum, baby? Gonna be a good girl and cum on my fingers?” Killer’s fingers increased their pace inside of you, going even deeper, making sure to hit your sweet spot that had your legs spasming over his thighs and your voice calling his name like a sacred prayer.
“Yes, please! - fuck- M’gonna be good!” and the two men both smiled against you, savoring your desperate voice.
“Then cum,” Killer’s deep baritone in your ear pushed you over the edge as white dominated your vision and you held your breath as you rode your high, hips spasming against your lover’s touch and hands pulled at your captain’s hair for dear life.
Sound was blocked out as you experienced pure euphoria, going limp against your boyfriend, who pulled his fingers out of you and made Kid remove his lips from your sensitive breast, and whispered sweet nothings in your ear as you came back to them. Though, not without an exhausted smile and glazed eyes.
“You always forget to breathe, baby,” Killer noted when you started tracing your hand over his forearm, “are you ready to continue?”.
You threw your head over his shoulder with a small laugh, still catching your breath, “yes!”.
Killer always looked so pretty spread out beneath you, his hair splayed on the bed like a treasure-covered beach, all for you to admire. With your hands digging into the soft muscles of his breasts, steadying yourself as your captain seated behind you, you smiled down at him. And you swore firework explodes in your stomach when he smiled back, his hand lifted up to cup your cheek, with you gladly leaning into his touch.
“Jesus christ, alright, stop the sappy shit,” Kid laughed behind you before gripping your hair at the scalp, forcing your back into a harsh arc to look at him, “save that for when I’m done with you”. 
He smirked when you groaned at the position, but being an asshole, he put his metalhand over your ass, covering all of your skin. And Killer really shouldn’t have prepared your ass before your guest of honor arrived. And especially not have left the buttplug.
With a small push of his metal palm the plug thrusted further inside of you, and it was enough for you to lose your entire composure, jolting forward like you wished to crawl away from the sensation. Kid had found something way better than any kids could ever find at a candy store, the joy he felt was unmatched.
“Fuck, are you really that sensitive?” 
“No, I’m not, fuck off,” a pathetic attempt at defiance came from you, even with a small shiver in your tone, and he grinned at you in a way only an insane man would.
“You’re not sensitive?” his palm pushed forwards again, but this time he set a rhythm on the plug inside of you, making it massage your walls so deliciously your breath wouldn’t come out.
Killer watched the scene in front of him with curious eyes, seeing your breasts pushed forward because of the position and how your arms were already about to give out. And they hadn’t even fucked you yet. And he hissed when your nails clawed at his pecs when Kid switched to use his thumb on the toy inside of you.
“You can’t even breathe, princess, don’t fucking lie to me,” and without a warning he pulled the plug out of you with a nasty, wet squelch, “we’re about to test how sensitive you really are”.
Kid let go of your hair and rear to fish the bottle of lube from the night stand, making you fall forwards, Killer having to steady your shoulders to keep you from falling completely. A sudden grunt from Killer made you weary of his cock pressing at your entrance, meaning Kid was impatient and took matters into his own hands. You instinctively pushed your hips down, moaning while feeling his girth spread you open, a dull pain growing the deeper you got. 
“Fuck, you always feel so big,” you managed to whine out with a small laugh, making him chuckle beneath you, eyes shut close in pleasure feeling your pussy hug him tight. Kid’s hands snaked to your hips, squeezing tight as he set the rhythm for you, your breasts bouncing with the movements, and your cute voice begging him to go slower. As if.
He admired the view of your ass jiggling with each thrust, continuing his fun using you as sex doll on his best friend until he couldn’t handle the blood pumping in his cock, precum leaking from his tip smearing against your rear. He leaned over you once your hips stopped, licking and kissing your nape as he pressed his lubed cock at your hole, making you whimper when he pushed the head of his cock into your heat.
“Oh shit,” he was barely even inside and you felt so full already, your nails drawing blood from Killer who soothed his thumbs over the skin on your shoulders. And who was enjoying the view, taking in how adorable you looked with your mouth open as you were gasping and whimpering, eyes shut and brows knitted prettily together to endure the unfamiliar fullness taking over your body.
“Fuck, she’s so tight,” Kid groaned, pulling out before thrusting back in, forcing himself deeper. And you let out the most beautiful, breathless  moan that neither of the men had heard before, while your eyes started watering again. 
“Oh my god, yes!” the stretching of your hole had gone from feeling slightly painful to pleasurable, and you forced a bellowed growl from Kid when your hips pushed back to take more of him.
“Our little slut is getting greedy, huh? Getting cockdrunk, huh?” Kid teased you before using his large metal hand to pick up your arms as a restraint, setting a small pace with his hips, wanting to stretch your hole to accommodate all of him. Killer softly bucked his hips into you, matching Kid’s thrusts who daringly increased his pace, while his hands found your cute, perky nipples begging for his touch. Encouraged by your moans getting high-pitched and drool escaping your mouth as your brain was fucked into nothing but mush, they both selfishly thrust into you with no remorse.
“Such a good girl, taking us so well,” Killer groaned, and your chest swelled at his praise, pushing back to meet both of their thrusts with a small yell of what could be pure mumbling or a mixture of their names. Either option being music to their ears. 
Small exclamations came out breathlessly from your lips as their cocks massaged your walls so heavenly, like they rubbing against each other solely to break your body. Or your mind may be a better option, since they were already stuffing you to your limit, your legs shaking beneath you, the only thing keeping you up being Kid’s robotic arm that had killed too many men to possibly count. You were sure he could fuck you laying in its palm, no struggle at all.
That familiar knot tightened in your body once again as the two picked up their pace, each slamming into the most delicious and delicate parts of your body that had tears staining your cheeks from how good it felt, crying out their names; nothing but the two giants being on your mind, fucking you stupid. Cries, the squelching from both of your hoes, and the sound of skin slapping against skin created a filthy scene that would have embarrassed you. But you couldn’t give less of a shit how much of a whorehouse it sounded når smelled like, chasing an ever better high than you had previously, begging your partners to fuck you harder.
And they didn’t have to be asked twice, feeling themselves reaching the end too. Kid pulled your arms harder, creating the perfect arch of your back as he made sure you took all of him with each hard, rough thrust he gave you. He sounded like a wild animal, a beast in heat, where he pounded into you, not caring how sore you would be. And Killer stabilized himself one one of his elbows, managing to get more leverage to piston his hips against yours, using his freehand to play with your nipple just the way you liked as he saw your eyes roll to the back of your head, and mouth hanging open in sudden quiet chokes.
And you had reached your peak; vision turning white with static stars flowing past, and unable to breathe properly because it felt so good. It was another plane of thrill and existence you never wanted to leave now that you had been granted access.
“Holy shit, she’s fucking gone,” Kid groaned out, a hint of humor in his tone as he felt you clench around him, falling heavy under his grasp.
“First time she’s - ngh fuck! - been like this!” Killer managed to say before thrusting himself deep inside of you, grunting as he painted your insides white, feeling his hot seed dribble out of your entrance, and to his hips. Kid was the last to come, throwing his head backwards as he pushed himself as far into your canal as he possibly could before hot spurts of cum filled you up, before he pulled out. His cum oozed out and mixed with Killer’s that messily decorated your pussy. Kid carefully dropped your arms and let you fall onto Killer’s chest, before he himself fell beside the two of you to catch his breath.
When you came to, you were sweaty and gasping for air, with Killer’s calloused hands playing with your hair and stroking your back. You groaned at the mess between your legs, already feeling sticky.
“Fuck…” Kid whispered beside you, causing you to turn your head, “that was… something”.
He had a smile of disbelief as he faced you, and he seemed so different when he wasn’t grinning at you like a jerk. You laughed, exasperated, nothing a small hoarseness already in your voice, all thanks to him.
“Yeah, it sure was”
Killer was silent and content, basking in the comfortable space you had created while cuddling you. But he hummed in agreement, letting you know he was happy with what had just taken place too.
“Wouldn’t mind doing it again,” you blurted out, brain still not working entirely, and Kid’s eyes widened before he quickly shook it away and smirked.
“You loved my dick that much, hm?” and you managed to make your captain blush by letting your eyes travel to his softening cock and smile like an idiot.
“Okay, you perv, stop looking,” his hand unfortunately went to cover himself and you laughed. So he could actually be flustered? Good to know.
Killer chuckled, his chest rumbling against yours, “we’ll talk about it another time when we’re not naked, alright?”.
You nodded, tracing the claw marks you created on his chest, feeling your cheeks heat up at the thought of what you had just done.
“Happy birthday, baby,” Killer said and kissed the top of your head, although your hair was sweaty, “hope we managed to grant your wish”.
Kid turned back to you, the blush still visible on his cheeks, and he actually gave you a sincere smile, “Yeah, happy birthday”.
And with nothing but raw exhaustion taking over your body, it didn’t take you long until you fell asleep on your boyfriend’s body while he played with your hair and started chatting with your captain about what supplies the ship was getting low on. Like they hadn’t just fucked your soul out of you.
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I hope this came out to your liking, Zen! <3 And thank you to everyone else reading this!
Tags: @hawkix @wurm-food @unsuretater-simp @owlight @mxhitos
If you want to join my taglist, you can find it here!
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iloveprettyboysblog · 2 years
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He Puts the Sin in Seresin 🔥🥵
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📷 @/leclercsletters
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Sin Eater: Darkness Falls
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bas-writes · 7 months
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Femdom Delight
Characters: Gojo Satoru, Higuruma Hiromi, Nanami Kento, Choso, Ryomen Sukuna Reader: female (cis) CW: explicit n.sfw content, femdom, individual warnings per each drabble, Sukuna's drabble (the last one) contains dark content Word Count: ~2.6k together A/N: dedicated to Gojo's slutty waist that isn't leaving me alone since last Friday. Higuruma and Choso per @childofblackmaria's request 😘
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cw: pegging, breeding talk, teasing, dirty talk mixed with praise
Gojo’s thick thighs start trembling. He’s hanging on the last thin straps of control and dignity, the mewls he’s been giving you growing louder and lewder. Sweat pearls along his arching back; droplets dribble down his spine towards the line of shaved hair at the back of his head. 
You retract your hips, almost pulling out of him, and pour more lube on the shaft of your plastic cock. It slides back into him with delicious ease, slick, almost swallowed by his lustful greed. He moans, low and throaty, when you bottom out, buried balls-deep in him.
“Good boy,” you murmur and spread his asscheeks, devouring the views. You skim past sweaty hair and line of arched spine, towards the red marks your hands left by his waist, blooming with ease on his pale skin. Finally, you focus on your union, on his stretched hole gripping the thick shaft whenever you move your hips back. He doesn’t say it—but you know he’s begging for you to stay, to drill him deeper, to fuck and breed him throughout.
“You take me so well,” you coo and smirk, seeing Gojo finally caving and hiding face in pillows, his sweet sounds now muffled. “You love when I fuck you with this big dildo, hm?”
Sharp trembling of his limbs and a needy groan are his answer. You move the pump to your dominant hand and push his hips down. Obedient, he follows, sprawling himself flat on the bed. Mounting him comfortably you adjust the angle of your thrusts until they cease, fat dildo nestled in him deep and stable.
“What happened to my big and mighty Satoru Gojo?” You chuckle, drawing a line on his back with your nails. You love how his muscles tense under your touch; thin and white, barely visible, hairs stand up and tickle your fingertips. “You’re so behaved when you want my cock…”
You lie down and press close, your breasts flush against his broad, sweaty, hot back. Gojo groans louder again as he’s turned face to side for a breath, quickly hiding again. His long fingers dig helplessly into the sheets, immense pleasure overwhelming his reactions.
“Tsk, tsk, lemme hear you,” free hand sneaking into his hair you pull his head away from the safety of pillows, at the same time squirting some of the thick, cum-like lube into him. 
Gojo lets you. Loudly, shamelessly, and needy; such a lewd moan teared out of the throat of a man deemed the strongest. The strongest, yes, on the battlefield, stomping on the teared flesh of his enemies. But here, in your bed, he’s but your toy, a doll you use however you like. And whenever you like.
“Good boy.” You lick the back of his neck, bury your nose into the delicious smell of his hair. “You like when I breed you, hm? You’re such a cute cumslut for me.���
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cw: bondage, sucking on strap, hint of footjob
You’ve expected that Higuruma wouldn’t submit to your will so easily. He’s not a brat in the usual meaning of it—but also not a man who would succumb easily to such mundane needs and whims. You don’t have all the power on him; his unwavering gaze, looking up at you, is a remarkable proof of his silent resistance. He’s on his knees only because he wants to, your whims and orders—and his distinct bulge pressing through his pants—have nothing to do with it.
And yet, he listens. And yet, the thrill of the moment is rushing through your veins like adrenaline. You love not having him wholly within your reach.
“You’re so silent…” Not daring to ruin the quiet, you don’t speak much louder than a whisper. “As a lawyer you should use more words…”
His gaze heavy and eyes half-lidded, Higuruma tilts head back and takes a deeper breath, the slightly whistling rustle of air is his only answer. Unfazed, you trace the lines or red ropes, tied around his chest and keeping his hand bound behind his back, with the tip of your stiletto. You can see his muscles taunting under a thin, white shirt, but that’s as much as you get out of him. Even when you keep moving down, towards the hard bulge, cozily underlined with another loop of rope.
“You’re not going to say anything?” You smirk and give your strapped cock a lazy stroke. Your hand is slick and sticky with strawberry-flavored lube you chose for tonight—and you feel an immense urge to wipe it against his cheek, to stain his handsome face before you move to the main course. 
Higuruma’s gaze flicks down, towards the dildo, his Adam’s apple bobbing just slightly at the sight of thick, heavy droplets sliding down its shaft.
“Are you hungry?” You tease and press his crotch harder. His hips jerk forwards, he ruts against your foot but stutters and stills as fast as he’s reacted. 
“Anything you say can be used against you.” Moving the tip of your shoe against the curve of his bulge, you taste the words and their weight on your tongue. “But this is not a court. Your punishment will be only your reward. And if you’re going to be a good boy, we might even skip that part.”
He jerks again, a slow, dragging move of hips against your sole—but this time you see pleasure and need in his eyes, the everlasting calm, emotionless, expression breaking into a pleading, demanding whim.
You can’t help but smirk with satisfaction.
“Are you hungry?” You repeat and reach out to him. Higuruma hesitates only for a moment.
“I am, ma’am.” He shimmies closer, clumsily with hands bound, and licks your palm, opens mouth wide for your fingers. You toy with him, test how nimble his tongue is, how deep he can take you before he gags. The way he whimpers around your fingers, the way his eyes darken with pleasure, the way tears prick at their corners when you touch his limits… You’re getting wet just from the sight.
“I have something bigger for you.” Grabbing your cock at the base, you rub its head against his lips. 
You don’t have power over Higuruma—but at this moment, at this moment only, he blindly gives you all the reins, and swallows the offered treat like a good boy he is.
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cw: crossdressing, rimming, degradation
Nanami blushes so easily, for his own demise. The curse of his Nordic ancestors ruins his serious demeanor at the slightest inconvenience—and he’s extra prone to any intimate situation, to restless teasing and to pushing him into an utterly embarrassing state. 
But it looks so cute. Especially paired with a skimpy maid dress.
“Your tea, ma’am.” He places the tray with the teakettle, cup and three cookies, neatly piled on a little porcelain plate. He pours you some, careful to not spill a single droplet, and takes a few steps back for a respectful distance.
“Thank you.” You nod with a smile and let your gaze wander up his legs. Long, strong legs, with thighs thick enough to crush wooden logs—now deliciously exposed by a tight, short dress. It’s frilled and has a window on his chest: a perfect view on big, soft and hairy pecs, additionally squeezed by restraining fabric. “Are you wearing panties?”
Red explodes on Nanami’s face, and he has to bite on lips before he dares to speak, “No, ma’am, I am not.”
You click your tongue with a feigned disappointment, “Bend over.”
His legs are shaking and he’s right on the verge of giving up to embarrassment—but he listens and shows you his rear against the same table, right next to your tea set. 
“Walking around the house, working and cleaning, without any underwear?” You don’t need to lift the skirt to see what you want but you do it anyway. “You’re such a dirty slut, Kento-chan.”
Slowly, you drag a finger down from his butthole towards his balls—and he whimpers, voice muffled, as he’s probably hiding face in hands right now.
“Dirty, horny whore of a maid—” You keep teasing him at the same spot, watching with satisfaction as he’s growing fast under your ministrations— “thinking about his mistress doing lewd things to his little, tight hole… Instead of working…”
“I’m sorry, ma’am…” Nanami chokes on words, trying his hardest to overpower whimpers and mewls. “I promise… Never again…”
“Aww, aren’t you sweet?” You tease his entrance with a slow, encircling move. It twitches, hungry for your attention. “For a cock-hungry whore you have such an angelic voice. I can’t help but devour you, Kento-chan.” 
You nudge his legs open wider and kneel between them, face at the level of his ass. Tension runs through his muscles, not a bad one, but definitely nervous and embarrassed to high heavens. You suck a little, teasing hickey on the inner side of his thigh, smirking as his whimpers grow louder and more desperate.
“You were dreaming about my tongue, weren’t you?” You spread his cheeks open and move closer, your breath ghosting against the most sensitive and intimate part of his body. “Be a good whore and admit it.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Nanami’s voice—usually so low and raspy—breaks with ease. “Please, can I have it?”
You reward his honesty with a deliberate lick, from his balls towards his hole. He moans—and immediately shuts his mouth with both hands.
“No, Kento-chan—” You pull away, not without satisfaction noting how he sighed, disappointed. “You will get my tongue only if you sing for me like a dirty slut you are.”
You lick at his butthole this time, teasingly sliding the tip of your tongue inside until you hear his voice clearly again, truly a melody for your ears.
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cw: restraints, overstimulation, begging, non-penetrative sex
You know the power that lies in Choso’s arms, in those thick muscles and big hands, capable of tearing and crushing and breaking—and carrying you around as if you were but a mere feather. That’s why you ordered custom handcuffs, from the strongest materials available, and then bribed Gojo Satoru with a pile of sweets to imbue them with an insane load of cursed energy, so they could work as a decent seal.
Even though you hear the metal chain moaning as loud as him when he pulls, trying to break free and grab your hips to get what he desperately needs from you.
“Fuck! Y/N!” Choso thrashes head to sides, hair plastered to his sweaty forehead. “Please. Please! I can’t any longer! I—”
His hoarse voice turns into a whimper when you drag your hips again, wet, hot slit against his painfully hard and sensitive cock.
“Please what?” You coo, keeping the slow, teasing pace. “Can you finish the sentence?”
You press harder against him, putting almost all of your weight into the friction, and the attempt to answer dies on him with a moan.
Smirking, you continue, one hand running through his chest hair and happy trail. His abdomen is stained with cum, on top of a glistering layer of sweat; you brought him to his high a few times already, restlessly rubbing your cunt against his cock until he’s come all over himself—and never ceasing doing so. He’s so sensitive and spent he’s shaking and raging, each move of your hips sparking his nerves like an electric shock. Veins bulge on his arms, muscles twitch and taunt—but the handcuffs are merciless. 
Drooling and crying, Choso finds some power to hump against you, but he steals only some more friction, not exactly what he wants and needs.
“Please… Lemme cum…” His big, puppy eyes seem even bigger under the thin layer of overstimulated tears.
“Oh? But you already came so much…” You cease moving until he stops jerking and shifting under you. Choso is desperate and half-mad with lust but still understands as much. If he wants to get what he asks for, he has to play on your rules. “Do you still want more? So greedy…”
“N-no… Lemme… Lemme in—”
You cut his pleading shut with a sudden, sharp drag of hips—and a shameless moan of your own. Long session of teasing and rubbing against him hasn’t left you unbothered; your juices stain his lower abdomen and sheets under you two. You’re teetering on the line of your first orgasm—and frankly, his helpless whimpers and begging only stir you on more. 
You’re not taking this pleasure away from you.
“Y/N!” Choso sobs, the bed frame creaking as he’s thrashing against the restraints. “Please! Fuck! Please! Put it in! Lemme cum in you!”
You stop again and lean down, squishing his cheeks and forcing him to look at you, until he remains still and silent, obedient the same way he’s been when you’ve cuffed him to the bed.
“That’s better.” You smile and kiss his tears away. “But I’m cumming first. Then you can ask me nicely again.”
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cw: dubcon, handjob, forced orgasm, Sukuna threatens you with...Sukuna-compliant things
“I’m going to kill you.”
The weight of those words and the range of the voice saying them would have you terrified under any other circumstance. But you’re midst one of those once-in-a-millennium moments, in power you would never expect yourself to ever have. You are the stronger one. You are dealing the cards and dictating the conditions. You are having a curse on your mercy—and nothing and no one could stop you from doing whatever you want to do now.
He seems to care about it as much as you care about his threats.
“I’ll rip your head off.” Sukuna muses, as disinterested as if he wasn’t spread against a wall and pierced to it, all four arms plastered with countless seals. Each would be enough to kill a curse of a significant power. “I’ll tear your ribcage open and smash your heart. And break all your limbs. Gauge your eyes. Bite your breasts off. And then fuck whatever is left of you. All of that while keeping you alive, you worthless maggot.”
“Don’t make me rip your tongue out.” You scoff and squeeze him harder. Any other creature would be already hissing in pain—but not the king of curses. He’s “just” hard against your palm, heavier than any cock you’ve held in your life.
Half of this is satisfaction from his miserable state—and half of it sheer curiosity. But overall, his and only his fault. Even if on the verge of a death sentence, Sukuna couldn’t keep his filthy mouth to himself. You, well, just accepted the challenge.
“You want to harm me.” He laughs, loud and ugly. “You can’t even get me to cum with those weak hands of yours.”
Instead of answering you squeeze his cock so hard you feel pain in your hand. Sukuna’s smirk fades a little and his eyes pop open as he lets out a hiss, not a painful one, but still, the first vocal reaction you’ve heard of him.
His other cock, on purpose ignored and abandoned, twitches and brushes against your wrist. You crook an eyebrow at the sight, triumphant and encouraged.
“Not only you will cum—” Keeping a steady and tight hold on him, you jerk him violently— “you will cum when I tell you so, you worthless curse.”
“You’re a mouthy bitch.” Sukuna scoffs, both pairs of eyes squinted and observing you with disdain. “But that’s as much as you can—”
Genuine surprise flashes through his face when, with a free hand, you trace and press at his perineum.
“Fuck—” He groans and thrashes against the binds. “You—”
“A worthless maggot who can’t even get you to cum?” Now, having a thread ready in your reach, you don’t intend to let it go. The satisfaction from humbling Sukuna himself is even greater than the views and arousal coming from absolute control.
Who knows, maybe you will cave against your inner promise and use his cocks for your own pleasure after you get bored with milking him?
Smirking, you watch him crumble and succumb into your touch—until he finally caves in himself, with a loud, demon-like groan, spurting cum from both of his cocks all over your hand.
“I’m going to kill you,” he repeats, sheer murder beaming from his eyes. “No, you will beg me to kill you.”
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bree-cheesy · 7 months
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I’m sorry?????
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heyitsdoe · 2 months
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A/N - The first scenario of the event, this scenario's prompt was Fake Dating from Machine One of Doe's Lucky Slots Casino! If you liked what you read, consider checking out my masterlist for other stories. Keep an eye out for more to come, and please enjoy!
WARNINGS: NSFW sexual content, blow jobs, praise kink
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You're not sure where to stare; Sengoku's expectant and pleased-with-himself expression, or the paper he'd handed to you with your next mission's details.
A band of smugglers had been running black market weapons and ill-harvested luxury items in the area, and the World Government needed to figure out where their base of operations lay. Three islands in that region of the sea were possible locations, given the smugglers' frequent sightings around or nearby, and a two-man team of marines would be dispatched to each one under some false cover. A simple recon. Get in, attempt to locate the hideout, find out what details you could about their operations, and get out. Nothing you hadn't done a dozen times before.
It wouldn't even be the first time you'd gone in with a cover story. Nothing new, and certainly nothing hard for you to pull off. Words failed you, however, when you noticed a few key details of your cover further down on the page.
Rosinante, standing beside you and gazing intensely at the same briefing document you had also received, finally glanced up at your commanding officer with raised brows and a flustered stutter.
"A...couple's getaway, s-sir?"
"That's correct." The man in charge gave a slow nod, eyes closing, before opening them and peering at you both with a patience practiced over years of service. "The island is a known vacation spot; resorts, spas, beaches, and thrill recreation. Quite beautiful, I hear. This time of year, there will be hundreds arriving to spend a few days relaxing from their typical lives. Posing as a couple enjoying yourselves on a getaway trip, exploring a new island with all manner of things to do, will certainly provide you with credible cover if anyone sees you snooping around where you shouldn't. Wouldn't you agree?"
You had to admit, he had a point. "Yes, sir."
Sengoku, now seeming to sense some sort of...hesitation between you and your companion, leaned back in his chair and slotted his fingers together in front of him on his desk. "Is there a problem?"
Rosinante was quick to shake his head. "No, just..." He searched for the right words, swallowing thickly. "...just unexpected, is all."
You meet Sengoku's gaze, who looked at you for your own response. It was hardly prudent to disclose that sending you with Rosinante in particular, under this pretense, was stirring many feelings in you that were carefully tucked away and hidden. Flashes of possibilities in the days to come had you subtly shifting your feet.
Rosinante was your trusted companion, years of experience together saving each other's lives would do that. It was hardly surprising to realize you'd grown to care for him more than you perhaps should over all that time.
Realizing you hadn't responded, you flash a little smile in Sengoku's direction, somehow managing to make it not appear as strained as you felt. "No, sir. I've never been put under cover needing to fake a relationship with someone else is all."
"I understand. This cover would require the both of you to...blur some professional lines, as it were." He gave a sympathetic sigh. "It's not something I ask lightly. You and Rosinante work well together, trust each other fully, and communicate effectively. Given the circumstances, and your dynamic between each other, I believe you're my best shot at infiltrating the island without raising suspicion from the smugglers, if they happen to be operating there."
High praise from the Fleet Admiral. Pride swells within you. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Rosinante smile as well, and then glance at you to meet your own.
"Thank you, sir."
"Any other objections?" Both of you remain silent, so he continues.
"One week should give you sufficient time to see most of the island and gather what information you can." The bearded man continued, reaching into his drawer to pull out more paperwork, handing each of you a small stack. "Lodging and meals have been arranged for the duration of your mission. In keeping with your cover as a couple, it is, unfortunately, a single-bed suite. I trust you'll work something out in that regard."
Oh dear.
"Yes, sir." You both respond simultaneously, and you desperately hope that the rising heat in your face doesn't show.
"It would be suspicious if you did not partake in any of the recreation the island had to offer while you are there, so consider any of the activities and amenities provided as a means to blend in with the other vacation-goers. I shouldn't need to say this, but," He frowned then, staring at the two of you in warning, "don't get distracted."
"Yes, sir." Two voices echo.
Eyes flicking between the two of you, he eases up in his chair and nods satisfactorily. "Any questions about what must be done?"
"No, sir."
Nodding, he gave you both a confident smile and stood from his seat, the both of you only a moment behind him. "Then see to the docks to board your ship. You leave at once."
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The resort was just as Sengoku had described. Beautiful.
A balanced mix of nature and civilization. The many-storied building that rose above the beach and the surrounding trees was pastel-yellow in color, and sporting a large mural of a palm tree on one side. You'd think the salty sea air would have faded the colors long ago, but it was just as vibrant as the day it had been painted.
From your perch against the boat's railing, smoothly sailing closer to the island's docks, you could see many beach-goers playing and relaxing in the golden sand that spanned the shore. A few brave souls dotted the waters on paddle boards and surfboards, waiting for the next big wave.
Half of the island was covered in vibrantly green foliage and palm trees, providing shade and hideaways for romanic encounters with some semblance of privacy.
If you'd been on an actual vacation, this was certainly a destination you'd have considered.
Several couples stepped off the charter boat alongside you and Rosinante, meandering their way down the boardwalk that lead to your accommodations for the week. They'd been a chatty bunch as you'd made your journey here. Luckily, your cover stories had been decided upon long before you'd boarded the charter, and so answering their basic questions about where you were coming from and the usual small talk had been easy enough to navigate without arriving suspicions.
Trying not to look too uncomfortable in your tank top, shorts, and flip flops that was nothing at all like your typical service uniform, bulky luggage bags in hand, you and Rosinante stopped and took in your surroundings, eyes peeled for any sort of sign that not all was as it seemed.
Now that you were on the island with a better view up close, you could see several straw-topped huts peeking out from the palm trees, some tucked away for privacy and some dotting the very top shoreline. They featured stylized canvas drapes that could be pulled apart to view the beach and the sea beyond it, or drawn to shield the occupants from prying eyes.
Further down the beach was a bar, two tenders mixing and servings drinks that looked colorful and likely deceptively potent. A number of beach-goers were lounged on bamboo chairs and sipping on one cocktail or another at their leisure, complete with floppy hats and seemingly no cares in the world.
No shady characters or out-of-place buildings one wouldn't normally find on a resort. So far, no evident signs of trouble in paradise, but that could change quickly, you knew.
"Y/N." Hearing Rosinante mutter, you glance in his direction and catch his meaningful look at your hand. A sympathetic smile graces his face. You swallowed down the little jolt of feeling that lumped in your throat.
"Oh, right..." Quickly, you place your free hand in his, linking fingers together. Standing there gawking with an analytical gaze at the island wouldn't fit your cover, and so you adopt a much more carefree expression, banishing the frown of concentration that had settled there, and let your blond partner guide you towards the resort further down the way.
The warmth of his hand in yours is not lost on you, but with a job to do, the feelings are stamped down enough to focus on your surroundings instead of the spike of happiness that grows in your chest. As if sensing your conflicting, his squeezes yours, whether a reminder to appear natural or as a way to try comforting you, you'd never guess.
Don't fool yourself, this is just a cover, you think to yourself. As much as you wish it wasn't...
You let out a tiny sigh that escapes your companion's notice, smiling face too busy taking in the surroundings.
The sand and sea-soaked boardwalk lead you directly to what was clearly the resort's hotel. Everyone is all smiles, no matter where you look. One of the staff stood in front of the double glass doors, waiting patiently as you approached. With a widening of her smile and a short bow, the woman turned and pushed open the door to allow you to enter.
The interior is just as colorful as the exterior, welcoming and vibrant and tropical in theme. Fake plants—or perhaps they were real?—were plopped in each and every corner, tall palm leaves spanning and drooping to catch the eye. Their waxy texture made it hard to determine if they were actual plants or not without close inspection.
The front desk was manned by a dark-skinned, bald man wearing similar clothes to all of the beach-goers; casual and bright, eye-catching colors. You were willing to bet he too was wearing flip flops. With all the sand around, it seemed the only practical footwear possible on the island.
His smile is easy and appeasing as the two of you step up across the counter. "Welcome! I hope your journey was pleasant?"
"It was." Rosinante gave a relieved smile and nod, as if weary and excited to be here. "Glad to finally get here. We've been looking forward to this vacation for weeks."
You adopted a winning smile as well, looking around as if overwhelmed by the sights, but actually canvasing whatever staff were in your line of sight. Nothing odd in here either.
The attendant looked pleased, closing his eyes and dipping his head in understanding. "Of course. Allamanda Bay is a wonder to behold, and I'm certain the many activities available to you and its exceptional beauty will meet and surpass any and all expectations you may possess."
You finally pay closer attention to the conversation, stepping closer and leaning into Rosinante for greater affect. "I think I read somewhere that they offer full body massages?" You don't need to fake the excitement in your voice.
"You are correct, madam." The man took the reservation papers from Rosinante, simultaneously answering your question. "Full body massages, a soak in the hot springs, facials, mani-pedis, yoga classes in the mornings and evenings...and so much more. Whatever your interests may be, we are certain to have something to delight you."
Rosinante glances your way with an expression that clearly indicated he was impressed so far with the roster of things to do, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his chest as you waited for your room key to be produced. Your heart thudded as you breathed in his scent, but the reality of the situation was never far from your consciousness.
Stop enjoying this so much, you tell yourself angrily.
Who were you kidding?
"Everything appears to be in order." Your host remarked with a satisfied nod. In short order, he turned and retrieved a key from beneath the counter, a small tag with the room number it belonged to dangling from the chain. "You shall be on the 5th floor. Just down this hallway you'll find an elevator." He leaned over the counter and bit and indicated where it would be located. "You'll want to turn left once you exit."
"Thank you very much." Rosinante said with an appreciative incline of his head, before accepting the key held out to him. In addition, the man produced a brochure with more information, should the two of you need it.
"Please enjoy your stay." The dark-skinned man bid, bestowing the both of you with a respectful bow.
Turning and taking your luggage in hand, you follow the instructs he'd laid out for you, reaching the elevator and stepping in beside an elderly couple who were quietly bickering to themselves about which activity they would be doing first that day. Feeling awkward, you exchange a raised eyebrow stare with Rosinante, keeping silent and pretending like you couldn't hear the warbled voices when they finally exited the elevator on the 4th floor.
The doors closed, before dinging once more and opening to the fifth floor, and you turn left to find your room.
You've both stayed mostly silent up to the point, only speaking when necessary to keep your cover. And your trek down the hallway is also without a word. Instead, you eye the somewhat tacky beach-themed carpet and palm-tree inspired wallpaper leading up to your room.
Rosinante finally stops in front of room 516. He inserts the key and, with a turn of his wrist, unlocks the door to allow you both entrance.
As far as hotel rooms go, it's got all the typical amenities; a bathroom off to the right, small alcove with hangers on the left for placing your luggage, a table and two chairs pressed up against the opposite wall just underneath a wide window overlooking the beach below, a couch appolstered with fabric a few decades out of style, two nightstands, a small den den mushi on one of them for calling room service, and a bed.
You'd been warned beforehand about the bed situation, but it was still somehow a jolt when you notice the single, queen-sized mattress that the both of you would have to address at some point today. But, ignoring that for now, you set your bag on the edge of the bed while Rosinante locks the door behind him.
A quick sweep of the room proves nothing unusual or suspicious about it, nor the presence of any hidden den-den mushi that could pick up on conversations within. For all intents and purposes, this was a simple, unremarkable hotel room, no different than any other.
Once established that there'd be no one listening to your conversations inside, you let out a sigh and flopped onto the bed unceremoniously, arms spread out to either side of you.
"I think a nap is in order." You mutter, eyes closing with bliss.
"It's only one in the afternoon." Rosinante points out, chuckling at your reaction. "We can still get some basic recon done today."
Your head perks up hopefully, looking at where he was unzipping the top of his bag. "After a nap?"
He turns to look at you, flashing a reluctant smile. "Probably not. The sooner we get the recon done, the sooner we can come back and rest. How's that sound?"
"Like my feet are gonna be screaming at me by the time we're done." With a muted thud, your head drops back down to the bed, a sigh lifting and lowering your chest. Your complaints were superficial at most, since he was technically the one in charge on this mission. His several years your senior in the force made that certain.
"Well, we got a decent look at the main beach, but it seems like there's more on the interior of the island and within the palm trees." The blonde figured with a shrug. "A basic recon of the whole island can give us a better idea where to look throughout the rest of the week."
He made perfect sense, from the mission standpoint, however that didn't make your throbbing feet feel any better. "You're right...doesn't mean I have to like it, though."
Once more he laughed, and you savored the sound.
"Just give me a few minutes and we can get back out there." You say, relishing this small amount of time just laying down. "Just to recoup the charter boat journey."
He nods, then as if confronted with what was on both of your minds with your position as it was, he cleared his throat and gestured to the bed. "Since we have a moment, I wanted to talk about the uh, bed situation."
It wasn't a conversation you were particularly thrilled to be having this soon, but it was a necessary one if you were going to preserve your ability to work together without issue. Rolling onto your stomach, you give him your full attention.
He glances away, before returning to gaze back at you. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I know there are some boundaries we can't help but cross over in this kind of mission when we're out in public—we both agreed to it when we accepted the mission from Sengoku—but this is one of those things that we do have control over. In this room, we don't have to put on a show for anyone. In here, we can be real. It's just us."
He gestures to the other large piece of furniture in the room. "I'll take the couch. Or, if you feel that's unfair or something, we can always switch off and alternate between the couch and the bed. I'm fine with either decision, but I'll give you the choice."
He flashes you a caring smile, hands raised openly to indicate that it was your turn to speak on the matter. With pursed lips, you mull over the idea.
Your hesitation had less to do with him making you uncomfortable and more to do with restricting your opportunities to see things as more than they were. You knew it would be a little awkward—on your part, of course—being in such close proximity to Rosinante with the feelings you harbored for him deep down. It was a recipe for distraction, disappointment, and heartbreak later down the line. Indulging in your secret desires would do no good. And, in a sense, wasn't that taking advantage of him in some way?
But...you didn't think it fair that he should have to take the couch just because of that. You were both adults. And if you couldn't handle being in a bed platonically, then you were more unprofessional than you'd ever imagined yourself to be.
No. He was your friend. And with a deep breath—and a mental reality check—you shook your head and dismissed his words with a small flap of your hand.
"If you're not uncomfortable with it, I say we both take the bed. We'll need as much decent sleep as we can get, and I highly doubt you'll fit on that couch at all." Your pointed glance at the couch's shorter width makes him reevaluate it for himself, and he winced. "You don't need to worry about me being uncomfortable. It's just a bed. Nothing to psyche ourselves out over."
"Oh...yeah." He slowly nods, giving a rather forced chuckle and rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Sorry, I've probably made it weird just bringing it all up. I just wanted to made sure we were on the same page and all...Uh, anyway..."
He's adorable when he's nervous, you think, smile widening as he went about doing something to change the subject. With a set lift to his shoulders, he grabs the small box containing your den-den mushi linking you up with Sengoku's office and places it on the small table across the room.
"Better let Sengoku know we've settled in, and then go out and get a good look at the island."
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After an uneventful scouting of the island, walking its main trail that weaved through the palm trees and along the edge of the shoreline on the far side—hand in hand to keep up the facade of a couple—you returned to your hotel room exhausted and in dire need of some food.
Room service was, surprisingly, complimentary with your accommodation package. The two of you had shared a disbelieving stare when the lovely woman on the room's den den mushi had disclosed that particular bit of information. How much had Sengoku allocated to this mission? Surely a resort like this didn't come with a cheap price tag...
Since it was provided anyway, you both ordered to your heart's content from the menu provided. Most of the fare was pretty standard, though there was a section for specialty dishes native to the island's edible resources, as well as an alcohol and cocktails menu. Getting hungover on day one of the mission wouldn't be a good look, so you avoided that for now.
With you meals eaten and your bellies full, the exertion of the day began to weigh down your eyelids, and staying awake was nigh impossible. There was still tendrils of light in the sky, visible from the window's faint orange glow, but neither of you could fight the fatigue any longer.
And so, too tired to care much about any awkwardness you'd felt before, you both mutter a 'goodnight' and tuck yourselves beneath the covers.
Somehow, you both made it through the night without dying of embarrassment or causing an incident that would forever change the course of your friendship. Upon waking up that next morning, you were relieved to find that your limbs weren't draped over his and you hadn't inadvertently snuggled into him during the night. No need for a mortifying scene like that. Thank heaven...
Still, you woke first, which gave you the opportunity to see Rosinante in a truly content and relaxed state of being. You'd never admit to anyone that you'd spent a few minutes just examining his face as he lay there, partially drooling into the pillow. Cute...
Some time later, having woken up, showered, and eaten your room service breakfast that left you full and ready to set out for the day, Rosinante looked over the brochure the front desk attendant had given you.
"We'll have to start setting time aside for things that the island offers for recreation, to keep up appearances. We can pick one for this morning, while we think over our next move." His eyes flicked back and forth as he read the inner pages. You smile to yourself, finishing a few things with your makeup in the bathroom mirror.
"I don't think I've ever heard someone say 'let's do something fun this morning' in a more clinical and uninterested fashion." You retort, and he shoots you a rueful smile.
"Sorry, I guess I'm just caught up in the mission. No reason we can't enjoy the things we do to keep our cover, right?" You nod, and he goes back to the brochure. "Says here that yoga classes are held in the hotel's recreation hall in the mornings."
"Mm, nah." You dismiss the idea, wanting to give your limbs a little break from too much exercise a bit longer. Your feet retained a residual ache from all the walking the day before. "Anything else?"
His blonde head turned back to the paper, tilting to skip to the next page. "There's snorkeling on the eastern shoreline, surfing, water polo. Can't do those..." He muttered, continuing on. "All day cocktails served at the cabanas, and a meet-and-greet with other guests at the bar."
"I could use a little pick-me-up, couldn't you?" A little sun and some waves as your ambiance sounded delightful. "Some lounging on the beach, just doing nothing..."
"Alright, nothing it is." He laughs, tossing the brochure down and standing to get his flip flops. "This is certainly the most laid-back mission I've ever been on."
A sigh escapes you. "I suppose we shouldn't get used to it, though."
"Probably not."
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The gentle sea breeze caressed your sun-warmed skin as you basked on the beach lounger. A fruity cocktail of some kind in your hand, you sip slowly through the swirly straw that stuck out of the top, tasting the citrusy fruit native to the island and pucker your lips in delight.
While there is the ever-present chatter of other beach-goers around you, playing and walking and laughing to the tune of their own amusement, the rhythmic and subtle whooshing of the waves upon the sand kept your focus.
When was the last time you relaxed this deeply? Maybe it was wrong of you, but despite being on a mission even now, you couldn't help the instinct to forget all of your responsibilities and just take in the sun's rays.
Pure bliss. The light buzz from the alcohol in your glass, coupled with the warmth, had you on the verge of sleep. Heavy eyelids threatened to close and have you dozing off right then and there, but the beautiful view of the open sea beyond coaxed your energy reserves to keep you awake despite it all.
Eyes closed behind your sunglasses, you hear Rosinante sigh out in contentment from his own chair on your right. Lip twitching upwards at the sound, something stirs you to move your arm, reaching over and fumbling around until your fingers brush over his, tangling them together.
You swallow down the excitement, letting it simmer but not show. If only for the moment, you can pretend it all means more than it actually does...
Rosinante hums, then perhaps looks over at your hands linked together. "Y/N?" He asks in a low mumble, maybe confused as to why you had suddenly held his hand.
"To keep our cover." Is your only response, hoping he doesn't press more than that.
Thankfully he doesn't, and simply squeezes your fingers in his, keeping hold of them as you continue to lay there and enjoy your drinks.
If only he could feel how fast your heart beat in your chest, fatigue replaced by a guilty pleasure.
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After your mid-morning lounging and drinking, it was time to get to work again. Having seen nothing on the first cursory glance of the island, Rosinante felt it prudent to spend more time in the most likely places a base may be hidden, which meant a short hike to the other side of the island, despite your hopes that the day wouldn't require too much strenuous activity.
Hands held as you walked together wherever you went, putting on your best smiles and curious expressions like tourists would, the cave system was your first stop. The resort offered caving tours to descend into the deeper sections to those curious and brave enough to try. But even a quick peek down there proved fruitless.
Your next two locations were nondescript buildings that had been not far off from the caves themselves. Getting inside of them unnoticed proved simple—there was so little supervision away from the main hotel—though a thorough search of both premises proved pointless. No signs of smuggler activity to be found, only equipment storage for the cave tours. So much for that.
Rosinante wasn't deterred, however, and gave you a smile of encouragement. "I suppose no sign of smugglers is a good thing for the island, though unfortunate, given they need to be found and stopped as soon as possible"
Returning to the main resort of lunch, you venture out again, revisiting a few of the next most likely places you could think of to find some sort of sign of smugglers. However, after another few hours of searching, there was nothing to show for it.
"Let's head back." You eventually suggest, once again taking the blonde's hand in your own. By now it felt so natural to reach for it, you felt like you were missing something otherwise. "It'll be dark in another hour, and I doubt we'll have any better luck if we continue tonight."
"Yeah, you're right." His smile returned, and his fingers squeezed yours again. "Besides, I think all our hard work deserves a reward."
Your brows lifts slowly. "What do you have in mind?"
"Oh, just something I saw on the brochure this morning." Is his cryptic answer, refusing to elaborate even as you pester him with questions about what he was talking about. "You'll see." Is all he'd say on the matter.
So, following him back to the resort, you change into clothes that you hadn't spent all day sweating in, and wandered back down to the beach. It was abuzz with activity, even more so than it had earlier when it was bright out. Strange. What was going on?
The echo of what you think is a drum beats a steady rhythm into the night. You try to crane your neck higher to look past the crowd of people mingling around, but can't quite see its source.
By now, the sun had fully set, the horizon barely holding onto the last bits of light as the stars emerged and the moon took its place in the sky. Tall torches stuck into the sand lit up the beach close to the bar, and you finally approach in a small break in the throng of people. It's then that you can see what all the fuss is about.
You shiver as Rosinante leans in close to your ear. "I'll get us some drinks." And before you can respond, he's slipped away in the crowd to get to the bar's bamboo counter.
All your attention is fixed to the two dancers standing in the center of the large circle of space the crowd had left unoccupied, large staffs in hand with fires lit at each of the ends twirling and swooping and spinning as they moved in tandem with the consistent thumping of the drum.
A man and woman, their outfits were obviously homemade, colorful garments stitched together in mismatching patterns with shells and beads sewn in. Their faces were lit up with delight as they moved in tandem, bodies perfectly in sync as they dazzled the crowd of onlookers with each and every flick of their wrists. It all looked so precise and careful, yet graceful and natural. Clearly, both knew what they were doing, and felt no nervousness swirling their flames so close to their own and each other's bodies.
You're mesmerized, eyes fixed to the way the light of the flames at the end of the staffs flickers and glides in the air along the path the dancers take it. In the darkness, the feelings it evokes hit you deep in your chest; as if it were so familiar, but experienced once more after a long time without. An ache relieved somehow. You couldn't quite explain it.
Rosinante returning to your side and nudging your arm shake you from the stupor, and your glance up to see him smiling at you. The passing of the flames give his eyes a glow, a spark, some ethereal quality you are struck by. In this light, he looks even more handsome than you could have thought possible.
His smile remains, but his brows lower a bit in confusion, making you realize you were staring. "You ok?"
"Yeah, just..." It's difficult to form any words suddenly. "Sorry."
"Well, maybe this drink will help a bit." He once again holds up the glass he'd gotten for you, a clearly fruity cocktail once more, a lime wedge placed along the rim of the glass. You accept the offer, and manage to smile back.
"Thanks."
"Anything for my lovely girlfriend." He says with a wink and a husky tone, sending your heart all aflutter. But he doesn't seem to notice the many, many spiraling thoughts now invading your head.
You both turn back to the fire dancers, though you're no longer paying attention, instead idly sipping on your drink while you try convincing yourself he was only saying things like that for the benefit of your cover story.
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"Pere pere pere pere pere..." The small den den mushi rang, sitting on the palm of Rosinante's hand as you ate your lunch that afternoon, another long morning of recon having gone back uneventfully. Patiently, you waited to be connected through to your superior, munching on sandwiches and fresh fruit while the little snarled continued to drone on.
"Pere pere pere pere pere...gatcha."
You both perk up as the snail's eyes opened wider, taking on the facial expression of the man on the other end. "Rosinante, Y/N...status report."
"Negative on smuggler activity." Was the blonde marine's serious tone, giving you a glance. "No signs of anything illicit or suspicious goings-on thus far. If they're here, they're extremely well hidden."
"How much of the island would you say you've been able to search so far?"
Rosinante looks to you for confirmation, and you lean in to be better heard through the snail. "I estimate 45%, sir. All prime locations for concealed illegal activity have been searched. A group like this would need a large enough space for storage of their goods. We've cleared all structures and spaces we know of that could accommodate that sort of operation. We're onto our secondary and less-likely areas just to be thorough."
"Hmm." Sengoku takes in that info, mulling it over. A series of rapid, dull thumps comes across through the channel. Drumming fingers. Both of you know better than to interrupt this time, letting him think over the facts available to come to his own conclusion. "Team 2 has reported a few signs of suspicious activity, they are currently investigating further into those leads. I anticipate team 3's report later this evening."
Another long pause as Sengoku thinks on it some more, before he clears his throat and addresses you both again. "I trust you've balanced recon and keeping your cover? Partaken in the resort's activities?"
"Yes, sir." Rosinante gives a little chuckle. "No suspicions raised yet."
"Well, good...good..." He cleared his throat once more, and you exchanged a look with your partner. Odd. "Then proceed as you have been, and report anything odd you discover promptly. Team 2's findings seem most promising, but if they have a secondary location they operate from, I'd like to weed it out as well and completely wipe these smugglers from the area in one fell swoop."
"Yes, sir." You both nod and say in tandem.
"I expect your next report in two days time, if not before with anything pressing. Until then."
"Gatcha."
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"...really was quite a sight, with Chiyo fending off those awful pirates practically all by himself! Supposedly, they were dangerous, wanted men. With bounties, even! Oh, but you wouldn't have even known, with how easily he'd dispatched of those brutes." The boisterous red-headed woman exclaimed, pressing into her husband's side as she recounted her tale in a buzzed slur of words.
Even if you hadn't been interested in hearing her story, you had a feeling her volume would have dragged you into listening regardless. Which, you think, is exactly how you'd ended up talking to the other couple at the bar in the first place.
"My Chiyo saved my life that day, and my entire fortune. I don't know what I'd done if he hadn't been part of the passenger ship I boarded." She continued, oblivious or unperturbed by her husband's reddening ears and face. Clearly, he wasn't as enthused about his deeds being trumped up so much or so loudly. "I knew then, I couldn't leave his side. It was a sign, that we were meant to be. Wasn't it dear?"
Chiyo mumbled an assent you couldn't quite make out, swirling what remained of his drink before downing it in one gulp, gesturing to the bartender down the way for another.
Seated beside you on his stool at the bar, one arm draped over your shoulder protectively, Rosinante raised his drink in acknowledgement of the man's boasted bravery, an easygoing smile in place. "Quite a story. If only there were more men like you out there, protecting people like us. I'm sure there'd be less of these treacherous pirates out roaming the seas so freely."
"That's precisely what I told the marines when they showed up after!" The woman exclaimed, gesturing emphatically with her half-drunken drink in hand. Some of it splashed down into the sand between you, luckily not going far enough to get on either you or Rosinante. "'Where were you when I'd needed you?' I'd asked them. I was practically left to fend for myself on the journey. Unfortunately, they seemed unwilling to listen. What's more, they refused when I asked that he be allowed to enlist as a proper marine! The audacity...hmph!"
You glanced at Chiyo, who was trying his best to press as far down into his barstool as humanly possible, or pretend he was anywhere but here, perhaps. Poor man. You sip delicately on your cocktail, relaxing a little further into Rosinante's arm. He pulls you that half-inch closer, warming your chest with...something. This close, you could feel his heartbeat...
"Oh, but listen to me, driveling on...how rude of me!" She suddenly waved her hand dismissively, gave finally settling on the two of you. "You make such a lovely couple, you know. There's so much love in your eyes. How did you two meet?"
Your brows raise, and with a nervous smile aimed at your partner right beside you, he gives a little chuckle, rubbing the back of his head.
"I'm afraid it isn't nearly as exciting as your first encounter, Miss Tilly."
"Oh, nonsense!" She pressed, leaning forward with rapt attention. "I'm certain it's a lovely story all the same. I'd love to hear it."
"Well..." He started, looking to you with a little upward tilt to the corner of his mouth. You'd already rehearsed this information on the trip to the island, but now that it was being questioned for the first time, you felt your heart rate increase. "It was in a little village in the South Blue."
"Oh, so far!" The woman exclaimed, a hand pressing to her chest in surprise. "Are you both from there?"
"Yes, though from different islands." You chime in with a conciliatory nod. "I left home to attend academy to continue my studies in writing, which just so happened to be where he lived."
Your sheepish glance at Rosinante revealed that he was playing his part well, smiling at you with a look so full of adoration, you found it difficult to convince yourself it wasn't real. When you paused, he took up the rest of the story, breaking your stare to look at your two avid listeners.
"At the time, I worked in a shoemaker's shop. Honest work, perhaps, but a bit...dull." He explained with a rueful chuckle. "I often found myself staring out the window when there weren't any customers. Across the street was this little bookstore, with a bench outside. Perfect for sitting and reading on a warm afternoon."
"Oh!" Miss Tilly placed a hand on her mouth, as if anticipating where this story was going.
"One day, there's this beautiful woman sitting there with her nose stuck in a book. Never seen her before in my life, and I'd gotten used to seeing the same dozens of regulars there after months of watching." His face takes on an expression of wonder, as if remembering the event like it had actually happened. "And after that day, she was there every day after that."
"Not every day." You mumble, pointing out his story's flaw.
"Most days, much to my delight." He amends with a wink, causing Miss Tilly to giggle behind her hand. Chiyo, having recovered from being put in the social spotlight, was sipping on his new drink and listening with less attention than his wife, but listening nonetheless. Probably thankful the conversation was no longer about him.
"I spent weeks just seeing her from the window, wondering who she was, where she'd come from, and what her name was." He continued, closing his eyes in content. "I'd never gotten a chance to talk to her, even if I'd had the nerve to. She'd be gone by the time my shift was done, and I wouldn't know where to start looking for her. The island wasn't small."
"How did you two finally meet?" Miss Tilly asked, no doubt wanting to get to the part where they'd presumably fallen in love at first sight. The anticipation on her face was palpable.
"I broke my favorite pair of shoes." You chipped in with a laugh. "Imagine that."
"For what it's worth, I'm glad they broke." Rosinante mumbled, and you playfully smacked his chest.
"Anyway," you continued as if he hadn't interrupted, "I didn't want to just give up on them. They were my favorites, ones my mother had bought for me before I left for the academy. So instead of buying new ones, I asked around for the best place to get them fixed. That just so happened to be the shoemaker's shop across the street from my favorite bookstore. And the man running the counter was the most handsome man I'd ever seen, which was a plus too."
"She came in, and we...just hit it off from there." Rosinante finished up, meeting your gaze with a look that could only be described as loving. Miss Tilly 'awwed' from her seat across the way.
"What pure love the two of you share, found in the simplest of places." She cooed in that motherly way, turning to Chiyo. "Doesn't it just melt your heart, my dear?"
His mumble was too low to hear, but it seemed to satisfy Miss Tilly, since she turned back to you, suddenly gesturing between you with a laugh. "Oh, no need to be prudish in front of us, we're no stranger to displays of affection."
You realize she's interpreted your shared gaze as a desire to share a kiss. It would seem odd to disprove her assumption. After all, you were supposed to be a well-established couple. Hesitating would be strange, in their eyes. So, after only a moment's hesitation and a fractional widening of your eyes, you turn towards him and lean in to place your lips on his.
He's taken a bit aback, but recovers quickly, accepting and reciprocating your quick kiss as if you'd done so a hundred times before. By all terms, it was chaste. Barely more than a brush of lips. Despite this, your heart was hammering in your chest, adrenaline making your fingers buzz in your lap, but you only smile wider at the older couple across from you, pretending the kiss wasn't setting your lips a-tingling and your chest a-fluttering.
Rosinante's arm wraps around you a bit tighter, even as the conversation takes on a more casual and less personal direction, but you swear you can feel his heart beating just as rapidly as your in his chest.
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By the end of your 4th day, you'd reconned about 75% of the island. No signs of smuggling, and at this point, you highly doubted you'd find any. That being said, you didn't search any less diligently despite the lack of evidence.
Still, you could tell Rosinante was...distracted. Quieter. More thoughtful. He let you lead the majority of the search today, face pensive with concentration or deep thought. Whether he was mulling over your lack of evidence so far, or something else, you couldn't quite tell. Something held you back from asking, as well.
Part of you wondered if something had somehow...changed. Nothing really had, of course. You'd simply searched the island as usual, and kept to your cover as usual. So why did you think there was more meaning to his little smiles and more weight to each innocent touch on your skin? Why did you feel his eyes on you when you weren't looking at him? Why couldn't you get your mind off of that kiss you'd shared? It hadn't been anything special. A peck at best. You'd wanted so much more than that...
You had made an even bigger space for him in your heart than it already had, and the unfortunate truth was that it had no place being there to begin with. He was, technically, your superior. A partner, at the very least.
Sengoku would never approve. Fraternization was generally always frowned upon. But really, when had that ever stopped your secret pining all these years? You'd always been a fool like that.
When you returned to your room that night, tired and hungry, you ate the room service food in companionable silence, pondering how the hell you were supposed to move on as if nothing happened after the mission was over.
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Rosinante had elected to skip the afternoon's recon. You didn't mind, having become a little tired of constantly walking the island and searching for something that, to you, clearly wasn't there. So an afternoon of relaxing on the beach again was a welcome reprieve.
Skipping the cocktails tonight—after several days of light drinking, a sober evening felt pertinent—you found yourselves walking the edge of the shore, careful to keep just out of reach of the approaching waves. You'd forgone shoes, choosing instead to walk barefoot through the sand, letting it squish between your toes with each step.
Once more, you walked hand in hand, so comfortable with it now you barely batted an eye when he'd tugging you along beside him. You pass by couples drawing hearts in the wet sand, loungers nearby with more couples relaxing in the sun.
Further ahead, a few kids build sandcastles with their little plastic buckets and toy shovels, stacking the towers as high as possible before they slowly crumple under their own weight. You smile, chuckling as one of them stands and stomps on the castle with his foot, letting out as terrifying a roar as a child could, pretending to be a monster destroying the structure.
You pass them by, mulling over the scene for several minutes. Rosinante squeezes your hand, perhaps noticing the faint smile still on your face. "Something on your mind?"
"No." You say automatically, shaking your head to dispel the silly thought. But when he keeps watching you with interest, obviously not believing your words, you shrug. "When's the last time you built a sand castle?"
He quirked a brow, letting out an amused breath. "I don't know. Probably..." Several quiet seconds passed, before he finally shook his head. "Actually I don't know if I've ever built one."
"Really?" The question comes out with more force than you intended.
"What, is that so hard to believe?"
"A little, yeah."
"Well, it's true." He concluded with a shrug. "I don't remember ever building one."
Outraged at this travesty, you let go of his hand and kneel on the sand, gathering up some of the damper stuff into a pile. He looks at you with a slowly widening smile. You meet his with one of your own, gesturing him to join you. "Well, are you gonna help or what?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Absolutely not."
His laugh is surprised but light-hearted. He kneels on the sand beside you, helping you form the mound of sand into a bigger pile. Without the proper tools, there's little you can do to make it look like a proper 'castle,' but with enough molding, you can manage some sort of fort at the very least, you think.
There's not much talk as you work together, hands pressing and brushing and patting over and on each other as you go along. More than once, you catch the other's eyes and smile, before looking away. But you never stop 'accidentally' touching hands as you work on the small sand structure, building up the middle circular mound, and then on the inches-tall wall that wrapped around it.
Little by little, more details came together, with a deeper section in between the wall and the mound dug out to act as a moat. With no bucket around, you couldn't really fill it with sea water, but it served its purpose. Before long, you had a decency built sand castle beside you, not nearly as impressive as the children's, but all your own and done with care.
"Not bad for your first sandcastle." You appraise with an approving eye, sitting beside him on the sand to take a break. "Maybe next time we'll have the proper tools."
Rosinante hums his approval, gaze faraway on the sun as it neared the edge of the horizon. So caught up in your task, you hadn't noticed just how dark it had become since you'd set out on your walk of the beach. Now, the stars were beginning to be visible beneath the light of the afternoon fading away.
Side by side, you watch as the sky grew a dark orange, aflame with golden light. With all the days of recon, you hadn't actually gotten a chance until now to take in the sight from the island's shore. And what a sight it was...truly breathtaking. The sea breeze was gentle and lulling, coaxing your eyes to close in peace and tranquility.
Sensation on your hand has you glancing down, where Rosinante's fingers had found yours in the sand, and linked his fingers together with your own. Smiling to yourself, you look back at the horizon as it began to just barely disappear, bit by bit.
Another touch, this time on your chin, guides you to look back at him, and the surprised question on your lips dies when you catch the way he's staring at them with a yearning that made your heart pound once. His thumb idly brushes your chin, contemplatively tilting his head as he can't seem to tear his eyes away from your lips.
"Rosi." Your voice can't manage anything above a breathy whisper, the sound causing him to swallow and begin leaning forward, the distance between you closing inch by inch.
"Trust me?" He murmurs a question, and you don't even need to think about the answer, dipping your chin in a nod without hesitation.
His lips press to yours not a moment later, warm and gentle and slow as they move in a measured kiss. Lingering and exploratory, it's everything you'd hoped the first one could have been. How your heart hadn't leapt out of your chest by now you'd never guess. You feel like you're shaking as you reciprocate his kiss, pressing forward to encourage him not to stop.
The kiss breaks suddenly, his shaky exhale a rush of break against your cheek until you're pulled back into another kiss not a moment after, this one more insistent and toe-curling than the last. His hand slides up the back of your neck tangling in your hair and pressing you closer. Dear lord, his hands...so capable, and yet so gentle when they held you.
Perhaps you should wonder if this was actually necessary to keep your cover intact, but truthfully, you couldn't care less, heart soaring with each second his lips are on yours.
One of you lets out a breathy whimper. You're not sure who. A tiny part of you says that this was going too far, and the rest was wanting him to push you into the sand and press his whole body against yours.
Shifting in the sand, your hands press to his chest, intent to pull him closer-
"RAAAAA!"
You're startled apart as the childish roar of the boy you'd seen before jumps directly onto the sandcastle beside you, squashing the little sand structure into a foot-shaped indent in the ground.
"Hey!" You say, pushing away from Rosinante to try standing and chasing the kid off, but he's already roared again, running off down the beach with his group of siblings or friends only a few meters behind, giving chase.
The two of you panting hard, out of breath, still slightly stunned from the unexpected interruption, your gazes meet. His pupils are blown wide, lips slightly red from the passionate kissing you'd been engaged with.
Underlying the desire in his gaze, you think you see...guilt? The expression stabs you through the gut with an intensity you weren't expecting. Did he...regret it?
Were you just looking into it too much? Were you interpreting more than was there?
The sun had fully dipped below the horizon by now, the sky turning from a smoky orange to a deep purple, beckoning night to descend over the island. Noticing the lack of light, you glance away and clear your throat.
"We should head back and...order food." You say, remembering that you hadn't eaten anything that afternoon.
Without a word, he nods, standing when you help him up from the sand, leaving your destroyed sand castle where it had once stood.
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"Anything to report, Team 1?" The snail asked in Sengoku's voice, and Rosinante shook his head a negative.
"It's our assessment that there is no smuggling activity on this island. We've scouting all areas possible for an operation of their size to hide, but have found no evidence."
Sengoku didn't ask if they were certain of this evaluation, a point that both marines were prideful of. The trust he held in them was something they were honored by.
"Good. I believe we can rule out the possibility of a second location, based on yours and Team 3's information." He said with confidence, nodding to himself as the snail mimicked. "Team 2 has made positive identifications of 2 known smugglers on their island, so we'll focus efforts there and zero in on their hideout."
You and your blonde companion nod dutifully, waiting to hear further instructions. You'd already packed up both of your bags, anticipatory of an early extraction now that you'd fully surveyed the island. There was nothing further for you to do there.
"With the completion of your mission, normally I'd bring you back immediately." Sengoku went on to say, and you frown slightly at his wording. "However, there are two days left in the reservation. Given it was paid in advance and is non-refundable, I'd say it would be a waste for the two of you not to take advantage of it. Consider it a reward for your diligence and good work."
"Sir?" Just as surprised as you, Rosinante catches your eye, sharing a raised-brow expression. The snail's face smiles a little as your boss chuckles through the den den mushi.
"Don't act so surprised. Neither of you have taken a shore leave in ages. I'd say you're due some down time by now. Relax and take the charter boat back at the originally planned time."
"Thank you, sir." You say, unsure of what else to say.
"Of course." The Fleet Admiral cleared his throat, expression returning to a more serious one. "Just don't go spreading around the fact that I let you stay. I can't have the rest of my marines thinking I'm playing favorites." Or encourage slackers to rush jobs like this...
"Of course, sir." Rosinante's most hquirked upwards, amused.
"Enjoy yourselves. We'll debrief upon your return."
"Gatcha."
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Without pressing responsibilities hanging over you, and with the island's many activities open to try, you could finally, fully, relax in the beautiful scenery. You hadn't realized how exhausting the constant vigilance had been until you no longer had to keep it up.
Rosinante must have felt the same, because after a morning of yoga, a few cocktails with lunch, and an early afternoon once again getting your ears talked off by Miss Tilly and—less so—her husband, he suggested something on the brochure you'd secretly hoped to do at least once.
The resort's spa was just behind the back of the main building in a smaller one, tucked away into the canopy of palm trees. The temperature inside was several degrees warmer than outside, and the air was humid to promote relaxation, you noticed. The attendant at the front desk welcomed you both inside with a smile.
"How can I help you?"
"We were hoping to get one of your full body massages, if there are any openings?" Rosinante asked hopefully, and the woman's face lit up.
"Oh, yes! Absolutely. Right this way, please." She stepped out from behind the desk and gestured with a hand for the both of you to follow her further back into the spa.
The resort spared no expense on the ambient decoration, going for a theme of peace and serenity. Gray-blue walls of stone, steam rising from well-disguised vents in the floor, and low-lighting left you wanting to sink into a chair and melt. Nothing sounded better right then and there.
The attendant lead the two of you back to a small room with shelves and small lockers. Pulling two white garments, she handed you both one and pointed to a door in the corner.
"You may change in there, and set your things in one of the lockers out here." And with a smile, she indicated a small bench on the opposite side of the room. "The next available masseuse will come and get you once ready. I believe it'll just be a few minutes before the tables are prepared for you. If you need any assistance, just use the den den mushi." One last gesture to the wall indicated a small shelf with a tiny snail sitting atop it.
She left you both there, still holding your robes. And after peaking into the room for dressing, you notice there was no partition to shield you from the other. Obviously, not expecting any issue since you were supposed to be a couple, they hadn't really considered anything like that necessary.
You turn to Rosinante and flash a smile. "We can just turn around and...not look?"
He nodded, surprise registering in his eyes. Clearly he had been thinking more along the lines of taking turns, but now that the suggestion was out there...
"Yeah...sure. Uh, I won't look, promise."
Closing the door behind you, your back turns to the blonde and, trusting that he'd keep his word, you begin to undress only feet from where he was behind you.
Something courses through you at that thought, that just behind you he was in a similar state of undress, but after the awkwardness in the hours after the kiss on the beach, it was all you could do to keep your spiraling thoughts in check. Despite the heat and humidity in this building, it wasn't farfetched to say the heat in your face was from something else...
The rustling of clothing is all that is heard in the room, and before long, he clears his throat. "Ready?"
"Yeah, are you?"
He makes an affirmative noise, and you slowly turn around, spotting him wrapped in the same robe you now sport, looking a little flustered. When your brow raises in his direction, he smiles and looks away, not wanting to say anything.
Gathering your clothes, you return to the locker room and choose two to stow them away in. Then, as instructed, you take a seat on the bench to await your turn. You lean back, letting out a held breath. "I feel all stiff from all the walking around we've done. This is definitely needed."
"No kidding..." Corazon leans forward and stretched his back out, giving a grunt when something popped.
"The masseuse will do that for you." You say with a smile. "Don't go breaking your back before they get a chance to first."
That earns you a chuckle, and he reluctantly sits normally to wait for your turn on the tables.
It isn't long. The desk attendant was correct when she estimated only a few minutes. Before long, a knock is heard on the door to your left, and a woman emerges with a searching look around the room, finally landing on you. "Couple's massage?" She asks, then gestures you back with your nods. "Please come with me."
Similar to the long tiled room you'd first entered through, the room the masseuse led you to was small, private, and offered two massage tables in the middle for you and Rosinante to lay next to each other. The steam rose in lazy swirls, and the earthy smell of incense greeted you. Another masseuse stood to the side of one table, hands folded gently in front of her.
"Please remove your robes and situate yourselves facedown on the tables." The one who'd fetched them said, standing to the side expectantly with her eyes cast to the floor. One glance at the second woman confirmed she was doing the same, respectful of your privacy.
The weight of Rosinante's gaze on you should have felt uncomfortable, but it didn't. The dressing room had somehow felt different. Here, within the damp walls of the spa itself, you felt coaxed to set all cares and worries aside. Inhibitions too, it seemed.
Or maybe that kiss just had you yearning for more.
Swallowing down your pride and shoring up all of your confidence, you meet his gaze with a small smile and slowly slide the robe off of your shoulders. The blonde's eyes widen, involuntarily drifting lower to follow the path of the robe as it slipped away, baring more than you ever had to him. Uncovered breasts and the curve of your hip down to your thighs and-
Then, as if realizing what he was witnessing, he yanked his eyes away from you with a clearing of his throat. His hands were clenched together at his sides, knuckles white with effort. You decide to spare him further torment by sliding onto your table, placing your head onto the circular space.
You think you hear him suck in a breath, perhaps unable to resist glancing at you laying completely naked with your ass clear on display beside him, but with your gaze directed to the floor, it was impossible to tell. You see the robe as it slips to the floor, and he too takes his place on the other table, situation himself to be comfortable.
The two women gently explained everything they'd be doing, as well as where on your bodies you'd be touched, so nothing would come as a surprise. Then, with a bit of nourishing oil applied to their hands, warmed to comfort, the massage began.
And oh, was it heavenly! Your masseuse had sturdy hands, the power of her toned arms behind them bringing each and every knot out of your shoulder muscles with little trouble. You melted under her care, barely hearing as she described the benefits of the particular method she was using. All you could recall was mumbling something encouraging back.
Your shoulders felt like jelly in minutes, warmed and slightly vulnerable after having been tended to so thoroughly. All the tension you'd been holding in them had vanished.
Down she went, to the muscles in your back, and as she moved methodically along, her thumbs found and worked through a particularly tense spot. A groan of approval as she worked it loose rumbling from your throat and, a little embarrassed at the sound, you apologized.
"No apologies needed. It's only natural." The woman had said with gentle amusement in her tone. "You're one of the tougher ones to come through here. Not many are this tense so late into their stay with us."
"I guess I...brought a lot of...stress with me to the island." You mutter through grunts as she continued down your spinal column and outward.
"This one too." Rosinante's masseuse mused from somewhere beside you. "Though you feel more tense now than before."
Rosinante's only response is a grunt, followed by a low groan of his own as his own back was being worked through. A shiver runs down your spine, hearing such a sound being uttered from him. Would he sound that way while he-?
Your thought process is disturbed again as your massage continues, though you find the rest of the experience is balanced between completely relaxing into the table under you and picturing a scenario in bed when he'd make such a sound again. It was all you could do not to clench your legs and thighs together to relieve the ache that had began to stir. Not that you could, even if you wanted to. Your masseuse would know, and make you relax again.
Thoughts shifted to daydreams, which were dangerous to indulge in right now. He lay mere feet from you in an equally exposed position. Some part of you feared he'd know the extent of your fantasies if you let your mind wander now. Best save them for when you returned to the base and had some space apart, right?
So you lay there, at the mercy of a woman turning you into putty, hearing the man you couldn't have moan and groan in a way that had your insides fluttering. Dreams probably wouldn't be able to replicate the huskiness, the depth, you conclude. No imagination could capture how much Rosinante affected you in the flesh. Nonetheless, the sound was locked in your memory now, well and truly.
It was bliss. It was torture.
You wanted him. It was wrong.
This mission would leave you well and truly fucked.
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You'd first noticed it as you both rose from your massage tables and dressed in the robes once more. Something in his eyes so magnetic and undeniably sexual. They smoldered hotter than the steam in the spa. This time, he didn't look away. All manner of shyness from before was absent. Nor did he attempt to shield himself for modesty too hastily, letting your eyes take in a glimpse of what rested below the golden hair leading down below his navel...
You swallowed hard when the sight disappeared beneath his robe. Meeting his gaze again was a mistake, because the look he pinned you with nearly had you moaning again. You bit your lip, holding back the noise that threatened to escape, and his eyes locked onto the movement. Before the two women around you could say anything, he put on a winning smile and thanked them both for the wonderful service. You're certain you follow up with something similar, but your brain was in a similar state of mush as your muscles.
Dressing into your normal clothes was quiet, but the tension was as thick as the steam in the spa itself, swirling and hot. Your skin buzzes with nervous anticipation, half convinced you were currently asleep on the massage table dreaming all of this up. Had he really looked at you like he wanted to bend you over the table himself? Afraid you'd see something else in his eyes, you don't look into them again.
The walk back to the resort is silent, though you never stray far from each other. Bumping legs or fingers brushing together the whole way, your breath quickens. It's electric the whole way. You buzzed, hyped up on something only he could sate.
It was evening now, and about the time you'd normally call for room service, but food was the furthest thing from your mind. The elevator up to your floor feels like it takes ages. And when it finally dings open, Rosinante is the first through it, leading you back to the hotel room with long strides. You half job to keep up, feeling your own patience diminishing alongside his. Some unspoken agreement has you both wanting to get back to the room as soon as possible.
There's something incredibly hot about his hands shaking as they finally slot the door's key into the knob, turning it with a rough flick of his wrist. It opens in a rush.
You follow in, but stop short when he turns suddenly and closes the door behind you. It shuts with a bang, your back hitting it not even a second after, and his hands plant themselves on either side of your head. He doesn't touch you, keeping himself the arm's length away, but you still feel trapped when the heated gaze you'd seen from him early is turned on you once more in full force. His mouth is slightly parted as he pants quietly.
"Y/N, I..." His head shakes absently, swallowing down as much of the obvious yearning in his tone as he can, but it's futile to hide it in its entirety. "I need to know. Is this really happening?"
"If you want it to." You breathe, deciding then and there that it was too much to resist, denying how much you wanted and needed him. No one had ever meant so much to you, and you doubting anyone ever again would. Both hands reach out to grab the front of his shirt, intending to bring him closer. But he resists your pull, one hand coming off the door to hold yours.
"It can't just be the mission." He insists. "I can't just...have you like this and then pretend it never happened. There's no 'normal' to go back to if we cross this line."
That line was paper-thin, and you were both rapidly sprinting towards it.
"I know." His lips are right there, and it's almost impossible to look away. You pull him again, and he gives some ground, forehead resting against yours. Yet still, he keeps that small amount of distance between you, intent on getting his message across before neither of you can come back from the edge.
"Tell me no, Y/N." He whispers, though you doubt even he really wants that from the way his voice sounded so breathy and unconfident. You can see a war behind his eyes, batting for victory. Self-control was currently winning—only just—though you could see how easily those tides could turn. Heavy lids make his pupils underneath almost entirely black. "If there's any part of you that isn't sure about thi-"
One more tug is all it takes to bring his mouth onto yours, and this time there's no resistance. You're pressed into the door, his lips slanting over yours in a kiss so desperate you can't help the loud whimper that escapes you. His superior height overwhelms you, knee sliding between your legs to hold you in place.
Holy shit, this was better than any daydream.
One hand fists his shirt more tightly, the other sliding up to thread your fingers into his hair. His own make a slow path down your sides, feeling the clothes areas that he'd seen bare just a few hours earlier. You shiver, wanting so desperately to feel those hands on your bare skin...
His knees presses up, putting pressure on your core through your shorts, and you moan into his mouth. He makes a male noise at the back of his throat in response, mouth never leaving yours, kisses sloppy and uncoordinated, taking your breath away all the same.
Somewhere in the mix, you realize you're still standing at the door. Should anyone be listening just outside of it, you're certain they were getting quite an auditory spectacle. With a little push, Rosinante walks backwards, pulling you along with him.
With each ambling and blind step, an article of clothing seems to disappear with it. At first, it's his shirt, the buttons frantically undone between your shaking and unsteady fingers. He's forced to let go of you to shrug it off, tossing it off somewhere on the floor. Once it's gone, you're free to greedily explore the bare planes of his chest, intoxicated with the rapid rise and fall of his chest beneath your fingers.
Then it's your shorts, the zipper likely ruined with the speed and ferocity you help him jerk it down with. A few fumbling steps and you've kicked them away. Panties still in place, his fingers find the damp garment covering your sensitive nerves.
"Fuck..." He mutters against your mouth, struck at how wet you already were. You moan as he rubs you through the fabric, sending tingles of pleasure shooting up your spine each time he manages to brush your clit. You reciprocate the touch, palming his pants while also trying to undo his belt one-handed.
The instinctive thrusts into your hand have your head spinning, and you think you lose it completely when you once again hear that deliciously deep moan in response. His fingers pause and stutter their steady rhythm in your panties as he latches onto the pleasure you're providing in return.
Another stumbling step back and he growls something you can't interpret, finally releasing his hold on you to help you get the damn belt off of his hips, which had caught on the first loop. Impatiently, he discards the thing away and it clatters to the floor unceremoniously behind him. The pants are easy enough to unzip and shove down is hips, revealing the hardened length you'd felt hidden beneath.
He tries getting the pants off entirely, lifting one foot and dragging it down the other leg to shuck off the garment, but he loses his balance and falls backwards in a seated position on the bed. With a surprised yelp, his lips break away from you, taking a moment to gain his bearings, pupils blown out and dark with lust.
But this new position has you biting your lip, and you drop to your knees before him, tugging the pants down past his knees just enough to give you room to work with. Taking his length in hand and giving a few gentle pumps, you lean forward and lick a slow stripe up the underside of his cock.
Rosinante swears breathlessly, curling in over you and fisting a handful of your hair to give him some sort of anchor point. Resting one hand on his thigh, you feel it quiver when you swirl the tip of your tongue around the head, stimulating the most sensitive nerves with the barest hint of attention. You're delighted at how responsive he is to every touch, giving you free reign to explore him with your mouth as you see fit, tongue laving his cock with just the right pressure to tease and sate all at once.
And when you finally bring your lips over the tip and ease him into the wet heat of your mouth, he lets out the most guttural groan you've ever heard, head falling backwards onto the bed. Down and back up you go, repeating the pattern over and over and hollowing your cheeks to bring the most sensation possible.
Working him over, you realize he's speaking in disjointed, strained sentences, only catching half of the words coming out of his mouth.
"...s-so good at that...oh, fuck, Y/N...ahhh...none of my dreams came close." His fingers tightened in your hair, the subtle shift of his hips lifting to go another inch further into your mouth. Still, you go on, speed never slowing. "Can't believe...you want me...like this...nnghh!"
The vibrations of your own answering moan has him thrusting roughly once into your throat, causing your gag reflex and blurring your eyes with tears. Perhaps realizing what he'd unwittingly done, he guides you off of his cock, gasping as he fully slides free from your mouth.
"Come here." Pulling you from your place on the floor and into his lap, your knees settle on either side of his legs. Like magnets, your lips find each other once more. His tongue pushes past your lips, tangling with your own in an uncoordinated dance, hands roaming and touching any skin they could find.
Noticing that you still had on your shirt, he lifted it up over your head, your bra following only a moment behind it. Bare once more before his eyes, they trace a path that his hands then follow, through the valley of your breasts, then around them, until his thumbs slide up along your nipples.
"You're so beautiful..." Is his breathless confession, watching you practically melt into his touch, chest pushed forward for more. "I've always thought you were, but...fuck, just look at you. Nothing will ever compare."
"Rosi..." You moan, both at the praise and the way his fingers swirl around your nipples in sync.
"Having to pretend all week nearly drove me mad. I so badly wanted it to be real." He continued, eyes riveted to your heaving chest, slowly leaning closer. "You've no idea how many times I just wanted to...to kiss you, and touch you. And..."
Instead of speak, his tongue replaces one thumb, circling the areola before sucking the flesh. A shocked sound leaves you, and once more your fingers are in his hair, pressing him closer to your chest and encouraging the way his tongue and fingers had you squirming atop his lap. His arm keeps you from falling backwards off the bed, making you arch your back and pressing you close.
Remembering your position, you use it to your advantage, grinding your damp panties down onto his bare cock. This earned you a scrape from his teeth, a bit of pain to sharpen the pleasure. The second time, he lifts his hips up to meet you, and the pressure has your eyes fluttering with need. The third time nearly makes you cum then and there. The hours of yearning didn't lend well to any prolonged round of sex.
You shake in his arms, as if clinging to him to weather a storm. You'd waited long enough. Foreplay at this point was just edging, you thought.
"Rosi, please." You mutter into his hair, lust dripping from each syllable as you hold him to you.
He swears against your breast, and you decide that it's the hottest thing to hear such foul words from his lips. His hands slide down to your thighs, pulling you just another inch higher up on his lap to line you up with his cock.
It would be too much to break apart to remove your panties, so you simply shift them to the side, lifting just enough to accommodate his erect cock beneath you. Your breaths mix together in the space between your heads, eyes riveted down below to where you hovered just above his tip.
The wait is agonizing, but it would ruin the mood to hurt yourself by sheathing him in a rush. So, holding your breath the whole way down, you feel the stretching fullness as his head breaches your entrance and continues on with every inch the rest of the way. The blonde hisses in a breath, and you feel him tense underneath you, doing all he can to resist the temptation to buck up into your enveloping heat. Watching his disappear into you has you dizzy.
Your heart hammers, thumping high up as if in your throat, and you swear you can feel that same rhythmic throbbing from his cock. Then, as you're fully seated upon him, feeling the length twitch and brush something so deep within, you involuntarily clench around him.
Rosinante's hands cling to your hips, fingers digging into the skin and holding you still as he hesitantly ruts once, shallow and gentle, testing your limits. Your name leaves his lips, soft as a prayer and just as reverent. It's a tight sensation, but not uncomfortable. With an encouraging roll of your own hips, pressing down just as he lifts up, you begin to find your rhythm and pace atop his lap.
Slowly at first, lifting no more than an inch, then two. Then faster, confidence rising at Rosinante's expression of relaxed awe and pure lust accompanying it. He looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered, in disbelief that you'd want him this way. Like you were an answer to his dreams.
His hard grasp on your hips will surely leave bruises, fingers latched onto your skin as he helps you to lift and lower back down onto his cock. The added strength helps you keep your pace, thighs working overtime to ride him like he deserved. Together you bounced upon the edge of the bed, kept steady by his legs planted to the floor and your shins braced against the mattress. It quietly squeaked in the spaces that your groans and gasps didn't cover.
Needing leverage to go faster, you push on his shoulders until he fully lay down beneath you. The new angle and position, your hands firmly braced against his strong frame, lets you piston your hips down and back in a furious motion, managing to slide your slit along his shaft over and over.
You're moaning something, but so focused now on chasing your cresting orgasm, it would be impossible to tell what the words were. Whatever they are makes him bite his lip and furrow his brow in pleasure, adjusting his fingers to get a better grip on you.
It's getting so close, you're nearly to that peak, but already you can feel your energy waning. Sweat coats you, skin hot and clammy. As if sensing this, Rosinante's feet plant themselves a bit further apart on the floor, and his hips lift upwards with each of your downward motions, meeting in the middle with the most amount of force possible, sending him as deep as he can be into your heat.
So close, so close...!
His sudden deep, elongated groan shocks you nearly as much as the way he completely stills within you, cock pulsing with each release of seed that comes. Gasping for breath, he pulls you down further, dragging your clit against his pelvis, back and forth, with the full strength of his arms.
Open-mouthed and eyes closed, you shudder atop him as the orgasm hits you with those final few strokes, thighs clenching against his legs to keep you in place. You can feel him groan as your walls squeeze and pulse around his sensitive length, and eventually the high subsides enough to give you enough sense to gain your bearings back.
The room feels 20 degrees hotter, the comforter beneath you twisted and pulled from how it had neatly been folded by the housekeeping staff that afternoon. His pants were technically still on, pooled around his ankles in a heap. Rosinante's tired gaze looked you over from where he lay on the bed, hands still gripping your hips in a loose hold.
You smile gently and, seeing you now looking at him with a bit more clarity, he reaches up to take one of your hands in his, bringing it to his lips to place a gentle kiss on the knuckle. Then, worry glossing over the residual high of his orgasm, he looks back to you.
It's obvious. Already, he was thinking ahead to when you returned from your mission, debriefing in Sengoku's office and beyond when the inevitable next mission would come. Fraternization wasn't looked kindly upon within the ranks, but then again, there were a handful of relationships you could think of that were secretly going on right now.
"No regrets?" Is his timid question, eyes searching yours for the truth.
What a silly man, you think, leaning down closer as your smile widens. With a hum, you kiss him slowly and with no less passion than the one you'd shared on the beach. When you pull back, you press your forehead to his.
"No regrets."
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ssoylatte · 1 year
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please i beg of u if anyone looks at my stuff PLEASE do not look at her fake beak up close :C it's yucky
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Time for some Wild Sexy Nun Blasphemy!! Busty Breasts/ Cleavage!! And sucking a cross.
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For some reason this is an incredible turn on. She's fn hot doing that.
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