Captain Kuro - Tumblr Posts
Am I the only one who read it in the None Piece voices?
well OPLA sure has some Moment alright
I dream of him
I burn for him
I really don't mean to flood these tags with links to the dead bird site. But I know there is at least a few simps for Captain Kuro|Klahadore and well, I felt it would be a disservice to my kin to not share this one.
To those that follow me for other things...sorry not sorry.
'Permit me to remind you'
Klahadore drabble
(Image Source: https://woka.com.ar/?s=captain-kuro-by-@tsuyomaru-one-piece-pictures-one-piece-qq-3Go3Y0Ua)
Word Count: 2,005
The night began as the sun bid farewell to the sky and greeted the stars with familiarity, deeming it an appropriate time to get into bed with a nice warm drink and cosy pillows, which is exactly what you were doing for the young lady Kaya. Reaching for the scorching pot of tea, you pour her a small teacup and bring them over to the newly tucked in and settled Kaya as she reclines against her cushions.
“Klahadore is insistent that I ensure you drink your remedy, my lady. I hope the flavour has improved with the small amount of honey I've added. A little sweetness goes a long way,” you directed her, she nodded and gave a small apprehensive smile. Her illness was depicted in her pale face, hollowed eyes and the dryness of her mouth. You returned her smile before reaching behind your back and collecting a few of the sugar-coated treats you had managed to swipe from the kitchen without the staff noticing. With a sly smile, you offered them to her,
“Speaking of sweetness, I stole some biscuits from the kitchen stash for you,” you gave her a small wink, offering a final hushed command of, “Don’t tell Klahadore.”
Kaya begins to giggle at your comment, but immediately slips into a sinister and dry coughing fit, prompting you to reach behind her and pull her into a more upright position to clear her airway as she finishes her collection of raspy, dry breaths. You wince as she coughs into her hands, offering her your handkerchief you keep tucked within your sleeve to collect her illness parting from her lips within.
“I don’t feel well enough to drink right now. I just want to sleep, please?” Kaya wheezes through her words. From hearing her shaken breath and dry wheeze, you decide that, just for tonight, she can skip her remedy. You place the tea and the biscuits back onto the tray you brought them in, ready to face the disapproving tone and glare of the chief of staff. The same chief of staff that you, two nights ago, shared in an interesting experience with.
It seemed all it took for the both of you, was a bottle of sticky-sweet port wine shared in the afterhours of a particularly long day of tending to your duties as lady’s maid to the young Lady Kaya. Once the staff bid you both goodnight for the evening with a curt nod and a small, polite smile; a small glass of wine shared between two leaders of staff was followed by another. And then another.
As our memory drew into a small haze, you walked throughout the halls with the full tray clutched firmly in your hands. You were unable to recall the moment from when you had finished the last of the sweet wine to having your arms draped around the neck of your raven-haired coworker.
Your lips pushing against each other, gasping for breaths as your limbs entangled in the wine cellar against the racking barrels as they syphoned the crimson liquid into the barrels below. This was not how you expected the night to progress; but the two of you had many moments you could’ve considered flirtatious leading into the evening’s event.
Closing your eyes now; you could still feel his breath fan against your neck as you controlled your verbal gasps and whimpers against each other’s flesh as your bodies joined at the lips. You could still feel his hair falling onto your forehead as he drew away from your neck to gaze longingly into your eyes. The awkward feeling of his glasses inching down his nose and falling onto your face. You remember feeling his hand remove itself from your hips, your jaw falling slack as you witnessed him press his inner palm against his glasses to redraw them atop his nose, only to then force it way under your shirt to grasp your hip again - the warmth of his gloved hands welcome against your flesh.
You knew it was not becoming of a lady to join in entangling yourself with a gentleman in such a way, especially in a place as exposed as a wine cellar. This was not your first dalliance with a man, but it was your first with a colleague.
Reopening your eyes, you attempt once more to rid your thoughts of their waves of memory, the warm feeling of anxiety and loss of control clawing their way from your chest to your jugular; discomfort clutching at your lips and souring the flavour.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
“We need to stop,” you whispered in between his bruising kisses atop your lips, “someone could hear. Someone could-.” Your words were syphoned into the mouth of your lover in a similar likeness to the barrels racking beside you.
“Just a little more,” as he pressed his lips into your neck, tongue swirling at the pulse and feeling the elevation in your heartbeat. “Please, darling. Just-...” He trailed a flurry of exuberant oscillations of his smooth lips against your jaw to your cheek, “-Please.”
He began losing himself in the feeling of your body wrapped around his, your arms around his shoulders and his own raking over your hips to grasp the flesh of your back in a desperate clawing motion to clutch you closer. Another kiss was shared in a long and drawn out caress, followed by another. Then another. The stagger and rapidity of his kisses did nothing to deter the intended silence being met in the air; your whimpers painting the atmosphere with their melodic serenade.
“Klah-’’ you squeaked, another attempt to steer his passionate kiss to a halt being met with no reaction. This verbal warning didn’t seem to sway him in the slightest. It almost seemed like his name meant nothing to him in the heat of the moment.
It wasn't until footsteps were heard that it broke him from continuing to chase the feeling of your lips against his own in exuberate moments. At the rise and fall of pattered footsteps against the cement floor, heels clicking and echoing within the chamber as they made their approach. The fear of being caught by his colleagues was all too much for both of you; yet you were still entangled within each other’s arms as stiff as the portraits painted above the cellar walls. As they retrieved a bottle of wine, they left the cellar with their heavy-laden footsteps trailing behind them in tow.
You both breathed a small sigh of relief as the cellar door closed behind the unsuspecting coworker, your smile breaking against your lips as he turned back to face you again. His eyes softened when his gaze met with yours seeming to, just now, remember that you both were working. He leant forward to rest his forehead against your own, the glasses again falling from the top of his nose down to the tip and brushed against the tip of your nose.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Lost within the spiral of your own thoughts, you start to wonder if it was just one night to him. Did it mean as little to him as he made it out to be? There was no whisper of a word or a murmur to inform you of anything other than the sort. No acknowledgement of the event even occurring the following day as you fell into the rhythm of working together in perfect synchrony.
Continuing to the kitchen, you set down the full tray of hot blue tea and stolen biscuits against the sink to prepare disassembling the arrangement meant to be presented to the lady under your charge. At eyeing the sugary treats atop the porcelain tray, your anxiety begins to elevate with the rapidity of your heartbeat that you did, indeed, steal those biscuits to bring to Lady Kaya from the pantry. And you did, indeed, bring the full tray back down to the kitchen, knowing full well that Klahadore would be less than pleased that Kaya did not drink her remedy that night.
Hearing the barely audible tap of soft shoes upon the kitchen floor causes you to briefly halt your disassembly of items, retracting your hand from the handle of the teapot you had begun to pour down the sink. Resetting it upon the tray, you rotated your neck to rid it of the small click within before narrowing your eyes and curling your lip.
“Why is the tea here?” the smooth voice purred from behind you, “She needs to have her tea daily, Dear. And biscuits? You know better than-.” His voice halted as you thumped your palms first on the kitchen counter before turning to face him.
“Klahaore, I don’t know better. I know best,” you challenged him, your brows decreasing their position on your forehead, “A simple biscuit will not cause her harm, and we both know she needs something in stomach or she’ll feel sick from the tea as it hits it.” You stepped closer to him, raising your chin to glare into his eyes. His jaw slackened slightly, his breath hitching at your verbal challenge and the proximity you drew yourself within.
After several unspoken and silent moments pass between you, he clears his throat and readjusts his glasses with the heel of his palm. His mouth begins to open to begin another order towards you, only to halt at your next interruption.
“If that will be all, I shall take my leave for the night,” you rotated your shoulders, standing firm in your upright and formal posture and awaiting dismissal from your superior. Klahadore furrowed his brows, not truly understanding where this animosity and surliness had come from.
"See me in my office," he ordered, stepping closer to your body. You stepped back from his approach, unbreaking in your defiant expression nor the rigidity in your posture.
“My working hours begin between the time my lady rises in the morning, and concludes once she is settled for the night,” you quipped in return, “If I am to be required to attend a meeting with my superior, I will do so in the hours I am employed within.”
"I am giving you an order, darling. You will come to my office now," he informed you, his tone strong and low. He stepped towards you once more, which you followed by stepping back to keep yourself an arms length away.
"And I am saying I will not," you smirked in return. His eyes darkened, his jaw tensing behind his pursed lips.
With that small smirk, you begin to push yourself past him, only for him to grab your wrist firmly and pull you against his torso. Your eyes fill with disdain as you glance up at him, though you imagine it isn't too threatening with your cheeks flushed with the contact he was providing to you. He holds you wordlessly, staring down into your eyes with a final warning-look.
“Sir,” you spat, looking down to the position his hand was remaining circling your wrist within, before floating your gaze back up to his spectacles framing his dark eyes. He breaks from gripping your wrist and hovers his hand to the side of your face, almost brushing the heel of his palm against your cheek in a gentle caress.
“We need to discuss what happened in the wine cellar,” he whispered in such a low and intimate purr of his voice, it prompted your cheeks to flush with further warmth than the initial contact of his grasp on your hand. You gulped back your collected saliva in your mouth, darting your gaze between his eyes.
“And what happened in the wine cellar, Klahadore?” you feigned your ignorance, recollecting the exact moment he was referring to but choosing to play coy with a smirk threatening to find residency back atop your lips.
His lips ticked up to the left hand side of his lips as he stooped lower to your face, whispering gently in another purred tone.
“My darling, permit me to remind you.”
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Please!! Somebody believe me!! Pirates are coming tomorrow morning!!