Anyone notice that the first time Penelope and Telemachus were mentioned in 'The Horse and the Infant', their pronunciation was closer to the Greek version and not the English-ed(?) version? cause I loved that.
playing with a dom and another sub but the other sub is a brat and getting punished and degraded while i get rewarded for doing better than them and the dom keeps using me as an example of good behavior like:
"look, he's so good and obedient. why can't you act like that?" and i'd just nod and agree as the other sub gets whiney or angry but i'm getting my little head pat and ear scratched and they still haven't gotten to cum :3
Grace and Rocky found Simon a while ago, but he's been distant and cold this whole time.
Simon sticks to "his" rooms. He takes care of the plants, and that might be the only time Grace ever ends up working in the same room as him. He doesn't even sleep in the designated beds. He's found a corner comfortable enough and has been sleeping there.
There are very few times that they actually have long conversations. Sometimes Grace rambles to him, speaking what he's working on out loud, but most of the time Rocky is also around, so he passes it off as him just talking to Rocky. That probably doesn't invite him to be part of the conversation much.
Grace understands to an extent. They're strangers, and Simon clearly went through hell before coming aboard the Mary. But he's still disappointed. Maybe it's the previous isolation getting to him. He was never so interested in connecting with a stranger before.
But there are small moments. Grace is almost sure Simon barely remembers them. Moments where Simon ends up curled up on the floor, overwhelmed by something Grace can't see, and Grace ends up tentatively coming over to help.
Usually, he just speaks Simon through it as best he can. He tries to reassure him, tell him where he is, that he's safe and that Grace is always here for him if he needs it.
Sometimes, on bad episodes, Grace reaches out. He rubs Simon's back, plays with his hair, holds him the few times when Simon leaned into him.
Grace waits until Simon's breathing slows and steadies, waits until he stops shaking. Usually, he gives him one last reassuring smile, a squeeze on the shoulder, and leaves.
Because the first time he came over to comfort Simon, he'd stayed, and Simon had gotten so angry and violent. He didn't want Grace around, that was clear.
Today, Grace was sitting at his desk like usual, looking over whatever sciency thing he could to keep himself distracted from the long trip. Rocky was sitting next to him, knitting xenonite, until he suddenly perked up and stilled.
Grace looked over, confused. "What's wrong, bud?"
"Simon is asking for friend Grace. Is quiet. Quick heartbeat." Rocky mentions matter of factly. This is a common occurrence, Simon's quiet panics. But he's calling for Grace this time.
Simon is frozen completely. He's had another hallucination, and he's petrified that when he opens his eyes, he'll be back in the lung. All he can do is pray and hope that Grace and Rocky are real, that the Mary is real, that if Grace has told the truth, Rocky would be able to hear him right now, and they'd come to his rescue.
He's tired. He's so tired of always being on his toes. He's tired of not trusting Grace and Rocky. He wants to relax, he really does, but he can't. He wants to reciprocate the things Grace has done for him. He wants to be able to feel comfort when Rocky watches them sleep.
Please. Please, let this be real.
And suddenly, there are hands on his shoulders, guiding him to sit down. He doesn't want to. He wants to reach out to that presence, to hold it and to never let go. He never wants to be afraid of it anymore. He wants to trust Grace.
Maybe he can this time.
His head is loud, screaming at him to be careful. He shouldn't be letting in. The penny will drop soon enough, and he'll be back in hell again. He can't trust anyone. Life has proven that over and over again.
But just this once, he wants this to be real so badly. He leans into Grace fully, wrapping his arm around him tightly. He receives the same in return. His legs almost give out.
Grace slowly lowers both of them to the floor. In the crook of his neck, he can feel tears wetting his shirt. Simon holds onto him so tightly, as if he's going to disappear. Grace tries to soothe like he always does.
"It's ok, I got you. You're ok. You're safe. I'm here." and so on.
Even after Simon has calmed down, he's still holding onto Grace. Grace won't be the one to break the embrace, so they stay like that for a while. At some point, Simon shifts to be more comfortable against Grace's chest. Grace mindlessly puts a hand in Simon's hair and starts gently scratching at his scalp.
"I'm not upset anymore." Simon mumbles, throat still strained from holding back sobs. Grace wonders if he was always holding back sobs when he came over to comfort him.
"I know." He replies quietly. He's almost afraid if he spoke too loud, he'd break the moment.
"Why are you doing that then?" Simon vaguely gestures to Grace's hand in his hair.
"It's nice. You have nice hair." Grace paused for a moment, uncertainty taking over suddenly. "I can stop if you don't like it. I thought- I don't know, I just thought you liked it."
"I like it."
There was a bout of silence.
"I don't need to be upset for you to do that?" Simon asked tentatively.
Grace smiled. "No. You don't have to be upset to get anything. You can just ask for it."
Once Simon finally felt like getting up, Grace left him with the usual smile, shoulder squeeze, and a new little habit he'd been wanting to do. He placed a small kiss on Simon's temple.
Grace always left so quickly, leaving Simon wanting more affection, but never courageous enough to ask for more. This time was the same. But Simon didn't expect the head kiss. He stared at Grace wide eyed.
His feet worked without him thinking. He followed Grace back to his desk, sat not far from him, and stared.
It took a little bit for Grace to realize that Simon was there. He totally didn't jump at the sight of him. But after a while, Simon bowed his head. Grace took it as a queue to play with his hair again, and so he did.
Simon got this warm feeling in his stomach he couldn't quite explain. He could honestly fall asleep right there. He rested his head on the table, Grace's hand followed him. He stared at Grace, focused on his work like he'd often seen. But from this close... from this angle...
Grace is pretty.
Huh. Simon never noticed that.
If you wanna read some more stuff I've written about them
A/n: Zoro crack fic. 0 braincells. okay my boards are in 2 months and I will be FREE after that (more or less) so until then, expect random stories from my vault of drafts. maybe some shorter form stuff if I get confident to post it... as always thanks for reading :-)
Cw: NSFW, no plot, rough sex, multiple orgasms, cream pie
You barely heard the door shut behind him.
What you did hear was the slow, heavy tread of boots across the old wooden planks. Each step creaked deliberately on the old wood, impossible to ignore, as if he wanted you to feel him coming. You turned around and—
Zoro was already on you.
One strong hand fisted in your hair, tight. The other gripped your jaw and shoved you back against the wall so hard the perpetually damp timber groaned. His face hovered inches from yours, breath warm and heavy with sake, voice low and grated. “You’ve got a fuckin’ mouth on you.”
Your pulse spiked hard under the pad of his thumb. He felt it and smirked, dark satisfaction flashing in his eye.
“Didn’t know ‘sensei’ was code for ‘choke me out and fuck me senseless,’” he growled, dragging one thick thigh between your legs and pressing the meat of his quad firmly against the seam of your crotch. “But I learn fast.”
You squirmed, trying to gain some control, but he only ground his thigh harder against you, the rough denim of your shorts dragging perfectly over your swollen clit. The sudden, direct friction made your head spin. “You like that?” he muttered noticing your gaze waver, voice dropping an octave lower. “Already soaked through fer me, huh?”
He seized both your wrists in one hand and pinned them high above your head. The other undid your shorts and shoved them down without ceremony. You gasped when your panties went with them, the air cool against your wet folds. He snarled. “Fuckin’ needy, aren’t you…”
His fingers found you immediately. Rough and calloused from years of sword work, yet devastatingly skilled, he was merciless. He circled your clit with slow, deliberate strokes, then gathered your slick and spread it over every sensitive inch again and again, teasing you until your hips jerked uncontrollably into his hand.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he breathed against your ear, lips brushing the shell. “All that sharp tongue and bratty attitude… and you’ve been fantasizing about me bending you over since the first damn day.”
A broken whimper slipped from your throat.
Zoro chuckled. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
Without any warning he pushed two thick fingers deep inside you, sinking to the knuckle in one smooth thrust. Your back arched hard against the wall as a loud moan tore through the quiet, candle-lit cabin.
“Shit,” he muttered, eyes locked on your face, drinking in every flicker of pleasure. “That feel good, baby?”
You nodded frantically, breathlessly.
His voice turned commanding. “Use your fuckin’ words then.” He curled his fingers and thrust them harder, stroking that perfect spot inside you. “Tell me who’s got you like this.”
“Y'— Z-Zoro— fuck, i-it’s you—”
His grin sharpened, hungry and satisfied with how pliant you'd become in his hands.
Then he dropped to his knees.
He never released your wrists. Never even pulled his fingers out. He simply moved in and hooked one of your legs over his broad shoulder, the proceeded to bury his mouth between your thighs. Bury it.
His tongue dragged through your folds like a man dying of thirst, nose pressed firm against your clit while his fingers kept curling and stroking, demanding everything from you. He drank every drop that cascaded down his fingers, moaning and smacking his lips loudly as he worked you open on his hand.
The first orgasm hit you like a breaking wave, almost pulling you completely under. Your vision blurred black and your moan finally broke into the sob you had been holding back. You didn’t even know how you were still standing.
Zoro didn’t stop.
He kept licking, sucking, devouring you through every shudder. His tongue worked relentlessly while his fingers pumped deeper, drawing out wave after wave until your legs trembled violently and your voice broke into hiccuping, shattered sounds. You begged — gasped his name, pleaded for air, for mercy — but he only growled against your soaked flesh and kept going.
Only after your second climax ripped through you, thighs clamped desperately around his head and mouth open in a silent scream, did he finally pull back.
He rose slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Not even winded. You, meanwhile, were a trembling wrung-out mess, barely holding yourself up against the wall.
He stood at his full height, looking down at you for a heartbeat before planting a hand on the wall right next to your head. He leaned his weight into it, trapping you under his chest. The proximity was suffocating; you could feel the heat radiating off his skin and the faint, metallic scent of swords and sweat. He dipped his chin, his mouth brushing the sensitive skin right under your jaw as a silent promise of what would happen if you collapsed.
“You gonna stay standing?” he muttered, leaning back over you, tongue dragging hot over your throat. “Or am I carrying you the rest of the way?”
You whimpered something that could’ve been a plea, or a curse, it didn’t matter anymore. Your voice was wrecked.
Zoro’s low, mean chuckle sent fresh heat pooling in your belly. “Good.”
In one effortless motion he scooped you up and slammed you down onto the bed. You landed flat on your back, shirt rucked halfway up your ribs, soaked panties still twisted around one ankle. You tried to sit up—
Zoro shoved you back down with one hand.
He stood over you, wide enough to fill your view, cropped green hair backlit by the low lantern light, chest rising and rippling in slow, predatory breaths. His head tilted slightly as he studied you.
“You look good like that,” he murmured.
You swallowed hard.
He reached for his waistband and pulled it loose in one smooth motion.
His thick cock sprang free and bobbed once before settling upright, so hard it looked almost painful. It was flushed dark and heavy with need, and it was fucking massive. Possibly thicker than your forearm and almost just as long.
You stared, breath catching in your throat. You had known he would be big. You had imagined it more times than you cared to admit.
But this… This was going to break you.
Zoro crawled over you, all broad shoulders and tan muscled skin, his mouth claiming your throat in hard, possessive kisses. His voice came out as a low growl against your skin. “You’ve got one chance to tap out, sweetheart.”
You gasped as he lined himself up. The unyielding head of his cock pressed slick and hot against your entrance, resting there, teasing, threatening, giving you just a moment to feel how much he was about to give you.
You looked up into his eye.
And smiled.
“Too late.”
His grin turned feral, sharp with triumph. “Yeah. That’s what I fucking thought.”
He slammed inside you with one brutal thrust.
The stretch tore a raw scream from your throat, not purely from pain, but from the sheer overwhelming fullness from just taking half. But he wasn't finished with just that, oh no. He didn’t pause for even a moment to give you time to adjust. He just drove deeper and deeper until his hips met your ass, bottoming out completely and leaving you breathless and stuffed.
You were ruined.
Claimed from the inside out.
He groaned low and animalistic, like burying himself inside you was the only relief he’d had all week. “Fuck… Tight lil' cunt’s already clenching down like you wanna keep me here.”
You couldn’t answer. You could barely comprehend the sensations overtaking your body. He was so deep it felt like each grind of his hips molded the inside of you to his shape even further. Your mouth hung open and breathless, back arched sharply off the bed. Your hands scrabbled desperately at his arms for something solid to hold onto as the overwhelming surrender crashed through you.
Zoro didn’t slow.
His hips snapped forward again and again, fucking you hard into the mattress like he had a personal vendetta. Each powerful thrust dragged a broken moan from your lips and sent sparks exploding behind your eyes.
“You’re takin’ it,” he growled, eyes locked on your face as he watched you fall apart beneath him. “All that bratty mouth earlier, and now you’re just moanin’ like a whore for me. That it? That what you needed?”
You tried to nod, head lolling weakly to the side. Tears blurred your lashes as your fingers twisted desperately into the sheets at your sides.
He leaned down close, sweat-slick skin pressing against yours. “You’re not done.”
Without warning he grabbed your legs and folded you in half, ankles over his shoulders, hips lifted off the bed. The new angle let him sink even deeper, hitting spots that made you cry out sharply with every thrust. Tears poured freely from the corners of your eyes now, pleasure bordering on too much.
Zoro didn’t stop. He watched you. Studied you as if he was memorizing every perfect twitch of your face and every broken mewl his cock drew out.
“Yeah,” he panted, voice rough with effort. “Just like that. Cum again. Lemme feel it.”
You shattered hard around him before you could even stop it. It was a whole body convulsion, your walls pulsing violently as the orgasm tore through you like lightning. Toes curled so hard they cramped. Vision whited out and fading to black.
You thought he might finally slow down or stop.
He didn’t.
He growled and snapped his hips harder instead. “Two more. You’ve got two more in you.”
You whimpered, voice wrecked. “I—I can’t—”
He wrapped one hand lightly around your throat, grounding you back in reality. “You can.”
His other hand dropped between your bodies, rubbing fast, rough circles over your abused clit. You wailed, thighs thrashing uselessly as you tried to twist away from the overwhelming pleasure. He held you pinned and fucked you straight through another screaming orgasm, and then another, until your mind went hazy and your body felt soft and molten.
Only then did he finally let himself go.
He buried himself to the hilt with a guttural groan, spilling deep inside you in thick, hot bursts. His face pressed into the curve of your throat as his body slammed against yours one final time.
You collapsed back, limp and trembling beneath him.
Zoro caught you, holding you close while still buried deep inside. One hand stayed possessively clamped on your ass, the other tangled in your damp hair. He pressed a slow, heavy kiss to the underside of your jaw.
For a moment you thought it was over.
You felt him shift off you—muscle, sweat, and the rest of his mass—and relief flickered through your exhausted mind. Maybe he’d finally let you rest.
Dumbly, with limbs shaking like you’d fought for hours, you slid one hand under you and tried to push yourself up with a quiet exhale.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
The voice dropped like a physical weight, a simmering rumble that pinned you to the mattress.
You froze.
But your hips had already lifted off the bed. That was all the invitation he needed.
Suddenly Zoro was above you again, strong hands grabbing your waist and dragging you back down the bed like prey before flipping you onto your stomach. Your knees hit the mattress with a whimper as he yanked your hips up high.
“Thought you could just crawl away?” he huffed, grinding the thick, still-hard length of his cock between your ass cheeks. “After teasing me all night? After getting stuffed full and crying for more?”
You tried to answer, but you never got the chance.
He shoved back inside you in one wet thrust, punching the air from your lungs. The new angle was devastating. His cock slid even deeper, relentlessly hitting exactly where it hurt so good your eyes rolled back into their sockets.
“No,” he hissed, voice low and vicious. “You don’t fucking leave this bed until I say you do.”
He grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back hard. Words dissolved into a faint whimper. All that was left of your defiance was the wide, trembling look in your eyes and the wet tracks of tears spilling over your heated, ruined skin.
His hot breath brushed your ear. “I want you face down, moaning into my sheets like the good little brat you are.”
You whimpered helplessly.
You didn’t try to crawl away again.
Zoro bent over your back, cock slamming into you with hard, monstrous strokes while sweat dripped from his chest onto your spine. He whispered against your ear like he owned every breath you took.
“You feel that?”
Another punishing thrust. You cried out.
“That’s me. In your stomach.”
He pressed his palm flat against your lower belly, feeling the bulge of his cock moving inside you, and groaned through his teeth.
“You’re gonna take all of it,” he promised smugly. “Gonna feel me dripping out of you for the rest of the fuckin’ week.”
You clenched hard around him.
He snarled—actually snarled—and fucked you even harder. The rhythm turned completely punishing. Your hands clawed at the sheets. Your mouth stuck open on a never-ending moan, spilling wrecked sounds and desperate sobs.
“You like that?” he grunted. “Like being fucked dumb on my cock? Thought you were so smart, baby. Thought you could play me.”
You tried to say his name. It came out pathetic and broken.
He didn’t slow.
His hand slipped down again, rubbing your clit with light, fast circles until you were screaming for him loudly, no doubt waking up the nearby crew. He grabbed your throat from behind, bent over you, voice thick and close.
“Cum for me,” he growled. “One more. Let me feel you milk my cock.”
You did.
You screamed.
You shattered completely.
And this time, he came with you — buried to the hilt, shuddering, his teeth finding your shoulder hard enough to bruise as he spent himself inside you.
You went boneless.
He caught you before you could go anywhere, one arm locking across your chest, dragging you back into the curve of him. Still seated in you, the pulse of him fading slow as your own heartbeat tried to find its rhythm.
You were twitching against your will. Oversensitive and wet in ways that should have embarrassed you, except you didn't have the spine for embarrassment anymore.
He'd fucked it out of you.
Zoro pressed his mouth to the back of your neck, absolutely unhurried.
Then his lips moved to your ear.
"Don't fall asleep."
You whimpered. It came out smaller than you intended.
He rolled his hips once, just once, slow and so deliberate it felt less like motion and more like a reminder.
