#amazon look what you took from us!!!!!!

[yrsonpurpose]

I always thought marriage sounded rather fun. A partner, a friend. Someone to make you laugh.

[hanaasbananas]

people who leave 5 star reviews without saying anything are so interesting to me

[sinfulspencer]

Twisted fantasy

Prompt: Reader asked her boyfriend Spencer to dress up as Ghostface and he obliged.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Rating: mature (18+, minors DNI)

Warnings: light dom/sub dynamic, dom!Spencer, sub!Reader, dirty talking, praise kink, degradation kink, spanking, hair pulling, breath play, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie

Words: 4.1k

A.N.: Thank you to @vampireids for beta-reading this!

“I can’t believe I agreed to do this.”

I could hear the faint sound of Spencer pacing around the room on the other side of the door, along with grunts as he tried to put on the tightest pair of black trousers I had managed to find. 

When October started, I knew it was time for me to make my demand. Even though I had no reason to complain about the many different ways Spencer and I celebrated Halloween, I had one more fantasy to fulfil. Just a little idea that had been stuffed inside my brain for too many years. 

I knew Spencer wouldn’t have denied me anything, so I wasn’t surprised to find a Ghostface mask in my Amazon cart a few days after our conversation.

“You did it because you love me!”

Spencer huffed and I saw the lights flickering inside his bedroom. “I don’t have to prove my love to you by wearing a Ghostface mask.”

“No, but it would certainly be a nice thing to do!” 

The door opened with such force it smacked against the cold wall. I took a step back and I almost collapsed to my knees when Spencer walked out. 

I couldn’t even see his eyes, but I knew he was hiding that damned cocky smirk he had on his face every fucking time he understood what was going on in my brain. It wasn’t difficult to imagine, because I knew exactly how my face looked at that moment. 

Spencer looked absolutely stunning in total black. 

The shirt was tight on his chest and his sleeves were rolled up at his elbow, making him appear even more delicious to my eyes. His waist was perfectly hugged by those tight black trousers he didn’t want to wear, but did it for me, and his thighs made me want to drop down on the floor and nibble all over him. 

And then, of course, the Ghostface mask. 

Sure, it wasn’t the real Ghostface with the black cape and whatever, but it didn’t matter.

“So, do you have a boyfriend?” Spencer asked.

His eyes were covered, I could barely see the outline underneath the mask, and that turned me on more than I could describe. I could barely think straight. And his voice… shivers ran down my spine. 

“Damn,” was all I could say. 

Spencer chuckled in amusement, but the sound of his laugh was toned down by the mask covering his mouth. I had no idea why the outfit turned me on more than I could explain to myself, but it did - and I was glad we had no parties to attend that night, because I wouldn’t have let him leave his house.

There was something inexplicably exciting in not seeing his face, but allowing him to touch me as he pleased. 

I had every right to drag him back into his bedroom and use him for my own pleasure, finally making my fantasy come true - and also put an end to my miserable desire for my boyfriend. 

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Spencer asked again.

I whined, staring at him. “Why, do you want to ask me out on a date?”

Though I could not see Spencer’s face, I knew that he was smirking. He was enjoying this probably as much as I was, which made me happy. 

“Maybe. Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No.”

I took another step back to admire every inch of my boyfriend and sighed. I covered my mouth with a hand when Spencer leaned on the doorstep of our bathroom.

“You never told me your name.”

He didn’t move from where he was standing, but I was squirming either way. Spencer hadn’t laid a finger on me yet, but I was ready to jump on him at any minute. 

“Why do you wanna know my name?”

“I wanna know who I’m looking at.”

Spencer opened his arms so that I could look at every detail, but before I could say anything to him he grabbed me by the waist. He pulled me closer to his body and I gasped, pressing both my hands on his chest.

I was sure that my eyes were in the shape of hearts. I had never felt this turned on before in my life, not even during our first time together and the first time we slept in the same bed - which led us to fuck on basically every surface of his bedroom.  

“You look like you’ve seen a Ghost.”

I brought both my hands on his chest, grasping his shirt. I was positive my eyes were shining, staring at my boyfriend like a starved woman in front of a delicious buffet. After all, Spencer looked like a snack and I was craving something sweet. 

“You’re so fucking hot.”

Spencer leaned closer to me and I struggled to look at him, or at the mask. His hands moved from my waist up to my neck, forcing me to keep my eyes on him the whole time. I hated that I couldn’t really see him, but that turned me on either way. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever understand your obsession with this mask but if it turns you on this much” Spencer dug his fingers into my waist, “I will wear it every night.”

I slid my hands up his chest, tugging on the black tight shirt. “I could eat you.”

“That’s my job, darling. Let me eat you.”

And who was I to deny such a thing?

Spencer helped me to lay down on the bed with my hips on the edge of it, trembling with anticipation. It didn’t take long for him to spread my legs with his large hands, admiring the already wet spot on my panties. 

“Already wet?”

Despite his face being hidden by the mask, I could feel the smug grin just forming on those damned plump lips. 

“Shut up.”

Spencer ran his hands all over my thighs, dragging my panties down my legs. He threw them somewhere and quickly brought his thumb over my clit, massaging it so slowly that it almost made me cry. Spencer knew how much I hated teasing, but he loved it so much - probably more than sex itself. 

“My sweet girl. Shouldn’t you be scared of me?”

A part of me wished I could be able to see his face, but the irrational part of me thought the mask was incredibly hot. I didn’t know what part of my brain was attracted to it, especially if it was worn by my FBI boyfriend, but still - I was thankful that Spencer brought my fantasy to life.

“Fuck, just finger me. Please?”

Spencer hummed, teasing my entrance with his finger. “Should I?”

“I’ll be good for you. Please?”

I whined under his ministrations, following the rhythm of his hand as soon as his index finger slipped deep inside of me. I knew Spencer could never deny me anything and him wearing that fucking mask was the proof of it. 

The squelching sound of my wetness against Spencer’s palm made me shiver as I gripped the bedsheets underneath me. His finger brushed against my sweet point and I found myself gasping for hair when Spencer’s other hand pressed down on my throat. 

I was caged between his slim body and the soft mattress underneath me, spiralling in warm pleasure that washed over me. My toes curled and I felt myself drifting off to that state that I craved each time I was underneath my boyfriend’s body. 

Spencer was staring down at me, I could feel it even though I couldn’t see it. He squeezed my throat again with his fingers, digging them into my skin - I was going to have bruises the next morning, but did I truly care? 

“Always such a good girl for me. Look at you.”

Spencer’s condescending tone made me clench around his finger and he quickly added another one, stretching me out gently as my wetness coated him. The more he squeezed my throat, the more I could feel my soul disappearing from my body and the pleasure taking control of every inch of me. 

My knuckles were white and my whole body was tensing underneath Spencer’s, his fingers working in and out of me at a quick pace that rendered me breathless. His hand was still pressing down on my throat. 

It was difficult to explain the state of peace I felt myself drifting off to, but I felt like I was floating above air. The white clouds caressing my skin ever so gently while my body was carried far away. The lack of oxygen made it easy for Spencer to gain control of me, my body and every sensation that he brought me with his fingers inside of me and his thumb on my clit. 

“You wanna come for me, my special girl?”

His voice was loud and clear in my ears, but I could not find the strength or the will to answer him. I just stared at him with my eyes wide open, gripping his forearm to release some of the tension that I felt building within my body. 

“The last time you were this turned on, was when you saw me shooting with my gun. Should I pull that out?”

My whole body was trembling as his fingers quickened their pace inside of me, making a mess all over the bedsheets - I could feel my own wetness and Spencer’s saliva dripped down between my thighs. 

“Spencer, p-please.”

Spencer didn’t waste any time in cooing at me. I knew that if I ripped that mask away at that specific moment I would’ve found a sly smirk on his lips - and God, did that fucking turn me on. 

“You can’t speak, my special girl? Too stupid to think right? To even speak right?”

When he pulled his fingers out of my wet cunt and removed his hand from my throat, I gasped for air and stared at the ceiling with a shocked look on my face. I was not expecting him to remove all the sources of pleasure at once, but somehow it turned me on even more. 

I knew what was about to come. 

Spencer’s leather belt came undone quickly as he adjusted the mask on his face.

“I need to be inside you. Now.”

Spencer didn’t need to announce what he was about to do to me because I knew it; I had a feeling that everything was turning him on too much, I could feel it in his hands and the way his grip was so firm on my thighs. It felt like Spencer was trying to anchor me to a moment, to a feeling, to the promise of giving me an amount of pleasure that would keep me satisfied the whole night.

“Please,” was all I could whisper.

Spencer grabbed my forearm, forcing me to sit up for a moment. My head was spinning so hard I barely registered my shirt being removed as Spencer left me completely naked in front of him. He was still all dressed up, despite his shirt being slightly crumpled. 

I didn’t know why, but knowing that he was still dressed while I was naked made me even more desperate for the man in front of me. And Spencer knew it as he pushed me down on the bed again. 

He grabbed my ankles and dragged me closer to the edge again, while he pushed his breeches down enough to free his waist. 

“So desperate for me, aren’t you?”

I whined, not really in the mood for more teasing. “You have no idea.”

“I’ll take good care of you now, my special girl.”

I closed my eyes and reclined my head back, waiting for Spencer to just end my misery and give me exactly what I was aching for. My thighs were trembling, my lips were quivering and my heart was beating so hard against my ribcage - if we were silent, I would’ve heard it echo through the walls of our bedroom. 

And then, a second later, I felt Spencer’s cock teasing my entrance. I gasped at the delicious feeling, immediately looking at my boyfriend - that fucking mask was preventing me from seeing his pretty face, but didn’t it look fucking perfect on him. 

“Just fuck me, Spence. Please!”

I supposed Spencer didn’t like the tone I used as I spoke to him, because he leaned on top of me and grabbed a handful of my hair. He pulled on it so hard that it brought tears to my eyes, but I wouldn’t have changed it for anything in the world - it felt deliciously good. 

Spencer must’ve noticed the tears. 

“Oh, are you crying?” he asked, his voice dangerously sweet, “I’ll give you something to cry about.”

Spencer tightened his grip on my hair and tugged on it again, forcing me to get up from the bed. He was controlling me through the painful grip he had on my hair and I swore I had never felt his fingers keeping me close to him so harshly before. I didn’t know if the mask had switched something inside of him, but I did not complain once. 

The fine line between pain and pleasure was subtle, and Spencer was allowing me to ride it. 

Spencer used his free hand to bend me over the bed without laying on it, while the other was still tangled in my hair. I had no idea what Spencer had in mind, but I was ready to follow him through everything - hoping that he would just fuck me at someone point. 

“You’re dripping. Are you enjoying what I’m doing to you, my special girl?”

His voice was so fucking hot.

I nodded my head, hissing when he pulled my hair again. “Yes. Always.”

Spencer moved his free hand down between my thighs, slowly bending over with his chest pressed to my back, and found my entrance again. He slowly sunk his ring and middle finger inside of me, not finding any resistance, and started fucking me again. 

I wanted his cock inside of me, not his fingers, but I remained quiet. 

Struggling to breathe and with my thighs trembling, I moaned his name and leaned my head on the soft pillow on top of the bed. His fingers disappeared inside of me as my wetness coated his palm, dripping onto the bed sheets.

“My special girl,” he pressed open-mouthed kisses all over my naked back, “Am I making you feel good? You like my fingers fucking your aching cunt?”

I saw stars when I heard him speak in such a dirty way and my body reacted as I clenched around his fingers. Spencer must’ve felt it because he chuckled, the sound of his amused laugh muffled by the mask - I was tempted to just take it off and throw it away.

“Please…”

My brain was dizzy, I could not form a coherent thought. All I could think about was just Spencer fucking me with his fingers, with his cock, his hands all over me, bruises and bites decorating my skin. 

I was desperate.

Spencer couldn’t care any less, though. He enjoyed the loudness of my moans, the way my body trembled each time his fingers bottomed out, the squelching sound of his palm against my weeping cunt. 

Spencer curled his fingers, pressing his digits on that spongy spot inside of me, and I found myself almost crying from the amount of pleasure my body was forced to experience. My legs were on the verge of giving out and my hands gripped the bed sheets so hard my knuckles became white. 

Still fucking me with his fingers, Spencer took off the mask and threw it somewhere - I saw it flying on the ground and I almost laughed. Spencer bit the skin between my shoulder blades - one of my favourite places he’d bite. The sharp pain radiated through my body immediately and I whined his name, pushing my hips back to reach his.

“Spence… please.”

His cock pressed against my thigh, but his fingers were relentless. All I could think about was the stabbing pleasure that his cock would’ve brought to me - how wet I was for the man behind me, how desperate I was to feel his balls slap against my buttocks each time he thrusted into me. I was out of my fucking mind with neediness and Spencer was basking in it. 

“Do you want my cock, my sweet girl?”

I nodded my head, my tongue felt heavy in my mouth. The pleasure was building slowly but steadily in the pits of my stomach, my trembling thighs an obvious sign of that. 

“You can have it, then.”

Spencer removed his fingers all at once and I groaned, disappointed but not surprised. His cock rested heavy on my inner thigh before he dragged it through my wet folds, coating it. I knew that he was admiring the sight and how much I was squirming because of him - Spencer was a sucker for my devotion and my obsession for him. 

“Give it to me. Please?” I begged

Spencer cooed, biting the back of my neck again. “Want it all inside of you? Want me to paint your walls with my cum?”

I nodded with my eyes closed, feeling tears of frustration pricking at each side. “Yes. Yes, yes.”

Spencer tapped the tip of his cock against my clit, then teased my entrance with it. He slipped in for a single second and I thought my whole world exploded. The pleasure flashed behind my eyes, but disappeared as soon as Spencer pulled away. 

My hands were twisting the sheets. “Fuck!”

Behind me, Spencer laughed at my pathetic complaint. It wasn’t a fun laugh, it wasn’t a cute laugh. No, it was a cruel laugh that reverberated through every inch of my body and turned me on more than it should have. Spencer sounded exactly like Ghostface, if it even made sense. 

“So desperate,” Spencer whispered in my ear, biting my earlobe, “Such a whore for my cock.”

I protested again with another whine and Spencer pushed his cock inside of me again, but removed it as soon as I wiggled against him. Each time I would move, he’d pull out - and that made my heart tremble in my chest. He was teasing me so cruelly, without a care - but I didn’t blame him. 

Spencer put on a mask for me. I deserved to be tortured a little.

“Oh, stop crying,” Spencer grabbed my hair again, pulling it hard, “I fuck you every chance I get, you’re not going to die if I don’t fuck you now.”

Actually, he was wrong - I was a hundred percent positive that I was going to die if Spencer wasn’t going to fuck me rough, hard and fast in less than five minutes. I wanted to answer him, to beg him again but the tone he used did not admit any talk back. 

I stayed quiet, simply wiggling my hips in order that he’d just give in to his own desire. 

“Good, be quiet for me and I’ll give you my cock.”

Spencer used his free hand to caress my waist, dragging his fingers over the curves of my buttocks. His other hand was still gripping my hair, but slowly loosened his grip until he brought both hands on my hips. 

And when he finally pushed his cock inside of me, meeting no resistance, he started to rock his hips at a painfully slow pace. I didn’t know if Spencer wanted me to die at that moment, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of having me cry because of him - despite the hot tears streaming down my face. 

“That’s my sweet girl. Your cunt feels so fucking good.”

I clung to the bed sheets with both hands, trying to meet his hips but Spencer stopped me. He didn’t say anything; instead, he enjoyed the way my body sucked him in so fucking good that his soft whimpers echoed through the walls of our room. I knew that Spencer loved to watch how my body reacted to his touch, to his painfully slow thrusts and I let him - there was nothing better than knowing he was turned on because of my body.

“Please, please, please.”

No other word came out of my mouth. 

Spencer started thrusting into me slightly faster, but not fast enough to make me come. It was a slow torture that I knew he was basking in - and what made it even more frustrating for me was the light slaps that he gave to my buttocks.

“Feels so good, sweet girl.”

Spencer muttered to me, caressing my buttocks before slapping both with his palms. Over and over, I could feel my skin become hotter and I wiggled away each time he struck me - it hurt, but I enjoyed it far more than I should have. 

When I felt myself losing the train of thoughts running through my mind, Spencer reminded me that he could read me like a book and he picked up the pace of his thrusts. I barely had the time to fix the position I was in because Spencer started to pound into me harder and harder. His balls were slapping against my buttocks and his hands were digging into my skin, leaving bruises that I would admire for the next few days. 

“Take me so fucking well. So proud of you, sweet girl.”

My knees were sore as they scraped against the bed sheets, but I wasn’t going to complain. I kept my mouth shut and leaned my forehead on the pillow, stretching my back with my arms gripping the headboard of our bed.

Spencer moaned at the sight and his thrusts became even harsher. I knew he was desperately close, I could feel it in the tension of his chest pressed to my back and the quick gasps that fell from his lips. 

“Wanna cum?” he taunted me. 

I nodded, my lips twitching into a smirk. “Yes, please. Make me come, please.”

Spencer seemed determined to make me cum first, his left hand still dinging into the soft skin of my waist. His right hand moved between my thighs and his thumb pressed over my clit, eliciting a long unexpected moan. 

“Show me how good I’m making you feel, sweet girl,” Spencer whispered in my ear, his voice low, “Cum on my cock like the whore that I know you are.”

My toes were curling, the pleasure becoming intolerable. Every inch of my body trembled because of his ministrations; I was a puppet in his skilled fingers and Spencer knew it, as he finally pushed me off the edge of my desire. 

With his left hand Spencer pushed my head into the mattress, cutting off the air supply as he buried his cock deep inside of me - I felt him breaching my cervix and it hurt, but Gods. 

I did not want Spencer to stop. 

I needed that pleasure to keep coming in waves through me as it exploded over and over again. I had no idea if I was breathing, I had no idea if I had died and went straight to Hell. 

Spencer groaned in my ear, a sound that I wish I could’ve recorded, and I felt his warmth fill me up deeply. More tears fell from my eyes as I struggled to lift my head up, exhausted and trembling like a leaf in the middle of a storm. I did not expect to have an orgasm so earth-shattering.  And I did not expect Spencer to take off the mask like that, with a disrupting anger that did not belong to him. It was endearing and incredibly hot. 

I collapsed onto the bed with Spencer’s body on top of mine, his lips peppering my back with light kisses. 

“Sorry about the mask.”

I hissed when he pulled out of me, the sudden loss stinging. “Fuck the mask.”

Spencer chuckled at my response. “But I thought you loved it.”

“Oh, I do,” I replied, rolling on my back, “But I love seeing your face way more.”

He got off the bed and went straight to the bathroom, bringing me a warm washcloth so that he could clean himself off me and then himself. I was too weak to move and my thighs were still trembling - I wouldn’t have been able to walk to the bathroom without waddling. 

“Right, so I should keep the mask on in the beginning and then take it off.”

I nodded my head, sitting up on the bed. “That’s a good compromise. Next Halloween I’ll bring one of your fantasies to life. Deal?”

Spencer scratched his chin with his fingers, humming. “I’m not really sure if I want to fuck a character from a movie or a book, though.”

“Okay, then I’ll dress up like myself.”

He chuckled, laying back down beside me. “Oh, that I love.”

[jewish-joy]

What irks me so so much about the Pro Palestine movement and how it took place on my college campus was just how it... fizzled out.

In fall 2024, we've entered the new school year, and knock-on-wood, harassing Jews is not the go-to activism now.

Which I am elated about- we no longer have to hide the locations of events so stringently or keep our heads down in classes, fearing someone will catch us and know. And demand for us to answer for our supposed crimes.

But what stands out to me is that this activism only came from a place of anger they wanted to let out like a rabid animal. Teenagers and twenty-somethings wearing keffiyehs they bought from Amazon screamed about the evils of Zionism. They rattled their signs and beat their drums. They vandalized and attacked. There was nothing held back.

And you know what I never saw? I never saw a bake sale, or any sort of fundraising for Gazans. I never saw food drives for local refugees. There was nothing tangible. There was only a vehement rage for a cause they didn't seem to really care about.

Because they didn't care about the people suffering and dying- they just wanted an excuse to be angry at someone and that "someone" was Jews.

But they got their encampments with machine gun doodles and "glory to the resistance" on their posters. They got their yelling out and their pretty pictures they'll save for their children one day- "Look, Mommy was an activist!"

But you know what sustained me, just a bit? I tried to believe that my peers were in the end well intentioned. That they didn't mean to hurt us. That this was all an awful trick being played and that their goal at the end of the day was a more equal world and end to tangible suffering.

But now- their keffiyehs are abandoned and only taken out for a little progressive fashion statement, paired with pink go-go boots. They are so painfully apathetic, it hurts me.

And I think- I really think- the next time they'll pick up their picket signs again is when Jews get hurt, either in Israel or the diaspora. And they'll line up once more to cheer for it.

[annievrse]

It Only Feels This Raw Right Now / Act II

Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader  Summary: When your captain, Luffy, tells you to run from Bartholomew Kuma on the Sabaody Archipelago instead of fighting, you end up on a submarine. Takes place during the time skip. W/C: 18.3k C/W: Fic structure: Sabaody Archipelago → Dressrosa spoilers, canon timeline but majority canon-divergent events, she/her pronouns, no use of y/n. Content: descriptions of injuries, blood, passing out, guns + getting shot.

Labyrinth Series Masterlist

— Scene 1 —

In the two months that followed, you learned to draw maps. It wasn’t that you were disappointed; working with Bepo was fun, but when Luffy said Law would be training you, you expected more. 

Luffy had gone through with the plan he vaguely mentioned to you, and seeing him in the newspaper with 3D2Y on his arm made you queasy—he neglected to tell you the part where he went back to Marineford—but you were so insanely proud of him. Since then, you’d heard nothing about him or your crew mates. However, you kept the newspaper folded in your room like your own personal treasure, along with a wanted poster of Law you found in the streets of Sabaody.

After Amazon Lily, the Heart Pirates returned to Sabaody for a few days to prepare for a journey to another island. You refrained from visiting the Sunny—Law warned you that there’d be heavy Marine presence around it, so you kept away from your beloved ship. It wasn’t until you were walking back to the Polar Tang that you saw Law’s poster and thought the photo they used for it was hilarious. It brought back some of the humour you’d been missing from Usopp and Luffy. 

You giggle to yourself. 

“What’s funny?” Bepo asks, his paw paused over the map he is currently working on. “Please don’t tell me you’re laughing at this.” 

“No! No, Bepo,” You laugh. “No, I’m just thinking about something else.” 

“You better be,” He says, dropping the brush on the table. “I’m done.” 

You peer over at the map. A large pawprint smudges the edge of the page, and the handwriting is a little scribbly, but his measurements are accurate, and you nod. “Perfect.” 

Nami’s face flashes through your mind, and instead of feeling upset, like you have been, you smile. “Add the cardinal points to the top corner.”

“Oh!” Bepo blushes, picking up the paintbrush. “Thanks.”

“You done?” 

You turn, seeing Law in the doorway of the boiler room. He raises an eyebrow when neither of you answer. 

“Yep,” Bepo holds up the still-drying map. “Look, captain.” 

“It’s a blob,” Law criticises, squinting at it. 

“It’s Amazon Lily.” 

Law shrugs. “I guess that’s as good as it’ll get, yes?” 

Bepo nods, glancing at you nervously.

“Considering you’re not allowed on the island, I think it's decent,” You say, smiling at Law. 

He doesn’t give you the same reaction. “I need you in the infirmary.” 

You shoot Bepo a glance, and he nods in encouragement. “I’ll be fine.”

Wiping your hands on your pants, you follow him out and up the stairs. The submarine is on its way to a new island in Paradise, and the engine muffles any voices on other floors. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Law doesn’t turn to talk to you. “I want to try something.” 

His words make your stomach drop. Try something? 

You’re almost jogging to keep up with his long strides. “Okay, well, can I know now?”

He sighs, giving you a sidelong glance. You smile widely at him, trying to persuade him, and Law knows he’ll give in. He always does. 

“I want to try your sewing technique on someone.” 

“Like an injury?”

Law nods. “Shachi slipped and split his eyebrow open on the kitchen counter, and I figured it was about time you showed me how you do it. I have yet to see your powers used for that instead of strangling me.”

Your hand brushes your side where your wound was. It took a while, but the gash Kuma gave you has healed nicely. All that’s left is a level scar. 

Scoffing, you bump his bicep with your shoulder. “Dick.”

Law exhales sharply, a humourless laugh that makes you grin with satisfaction. 

“At least I didn’t take your heart. That was fucked up.” 

Law shrugs lazily, taking a sharp left into the infirmary. “I said I was sorry.” 

“You said what?” Shachi exclaims, his eyes wide. There’s a white bandage wrapped around his head, protruding above his left eye where a thicker gauze sits. “I’ve never heard you say sorry, Cap.” 

“First time for everything, Shachi.” Law mumbles, pulling on white latex gloves. He approaches his crew member and removes the bandage. 

You stand to the side, watching with interest as the injury is revealed. It’s a nasty cut, and you cringe when Shachi merely blinks. 

“Not as bad as it looks,” He says when he sees you scrunch your face up. “Doesn’t hurt.” 

You nod, not believing him. 

“She’s going to stitch you up,” Law comments, gesturing to you. “That okay?” 

Shachi tries to raise his other eyebrow, but to no avail. “That’s fine. Just don’t stab my eye out.” 

“I won’t,” You say, walking up to him. Law stands back, eyeing how you position your hands over Shachi’s face. “Ready?”

He nods, wiping his palms on his boiler suit. “Go for it.” 

“Sew.” 

Concentrating, you aim for the first stitch at the end of the cut, your power taking over the rest of the way. It’s easy like this when you have a set path to follow. You glance at Law, who watches you work attentively. His dark eyebrows are furrowed, and you wonder what he’s thinking. 

“I have done this on someone before,” You say. “When Zoro went up against Mihawk, I had to stitch his torso back together.”

“Zoro…” Shachi eyes widen. “As in Roronoa Zoro?”

“Yes, dumbass. How’d that go?”

You shrug. “Procedure was fine.”

Law hums, and you know he knows you’re keeping the aftermath quiet. 

It takes no time for you to finish the stitches, and with a flick of your finger, the open cut has been reduced to a single line, small sutures tied every four millimetres. It’s clean, and you smile at your handiwork.  

“Done,” You exhale, your hands trembling with energy. “Are you okay?”

Shachi beams up at you. “That didn’t hurt one bit. Are you a witch or something?”

You laugh, balling your hands into fists at your sides. Law’s attention has moved to your hands, and you move to hide them. 

“Shachi, get out of here,” Law demands, his gaze focused on you. 

“Yes, captain.” 

You stand idly, anxiety brewing in your stomach as the door clicks shut. 

“You okay?”

You consider him for a moment. His timbre is far more concerned than you expected, and you nod.

He squints at you with suspicion. “You’re not. Your hands are still clenched.” 

You release them immediately, dried blood smeared on your palms. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” He says. “You need to release your power.” 

Shrugging, you sigh and bring your hands up. “I don’t know why it happens.”

Law swallows thickly, studying your palms. “Is that what happened with Zoro?”

You knew he was going to ask. “It was killing me.” 

He nods, mulling something over. “We’re docking at the next island.”

“What? Why?”

“You need to get rid of that energy. Otherwise, it’ll keep building up, and you’ll pass out like you did on Amazon Lily, or worse.” 

You think back—you did use your power to prevent the rocks from falling on both you and Luffy, and there was a copious amount of blood on your hands when you ran back. The blood. When you finished Zoro’s surgery, the blood on your hands was terrifying, yet you hadn’t touched Zoro at all. The blood. 

“You think the blood on my hands comes from me?”

“There’s a possibility,” Law nods. “We’d need to see your power in full force. But I think you’re power is so immense that when you use it in small doses, like stitching someone up, the built-up power that you don’t use has nowhere to go, so it pricks your skin so much that you bleed.”

The words come out of your mouth before you can stop them. “You’re brilliant.” 

Law clears his throat. “I just did more study on Paramica fruits. It’s nothing.” 

You feel your heart skip a beat. “But, you did more study because you noticed the blood on my hands. I would’ve never thought it’d be about the power I don’t use.” 

“It’s my job.”

“You’re stupidly smart, Law,” You laugh, stepping toward the door. “Just take the compliment.” 

Law sighs and turns his back to you. He busies himself with attempting to rearrange the shiny equipment trolley. There’s nothing on it. 

“See you at dinner?” You call from just outside the doorway, a smirk playing on your lips. It’s fun to embarrass him, though he’d never admit it as such. Trafalgar Law doesn’t get embarrassed. 

Law nods before he realises you can’t see him. God, you make him foolish. “Unfortunately.” 

— Scene 2 —

“We’re docking!” 

“Everybody off. This place reeks.” 

The first breath of fresh air after being in the submarine for five days is something you’ll never get used to. You took such a thing for granted on the Sunny, smelling the fresh salty air daily. Now, you treasure it. 

The Heart Pirates file off the sub, passing you as they do. 

“Where are we?” Penguin asks, coming up behind you to stand beside you. 

You shrug. “No idea. I’ve never been in this part of the Grand Line before.” 

As far as you can see, it's barren. There’s a cluster of trees in the distance, all tall and menacing, and you can’t help the sense of dread that creeps in. 

“I have to make a map.” You and Penguin turn to see Bepo holding a scroll of parchment and a pot of black paint. 

“Yeah, have fun with that,” Penguin mumbles, leaving the two of you. 

“You want to come with me?” Bepo asks. 

“She can’t.” 

Bepo visibly deflates. “Captain, you’re gonna make me go on my lonesome? With nobody? What if I fall down a ravine and break my leg?”

“You’ll be fine, Bepo. Now, go.”

“Yes, captain,” He says solemnly, trudging toward the plank. 

“I’m happy to go with him, you know.”

Law clicks his tongue. “You’re coming with me. We need to train.” 

“Train? Where?” You have a feeling you know the answer. 

“There.” He gestures with his chin to the forest. 

You sigh harshly and begin walking. “Come on, then. It’ll take a while to get there.”

Law quirks his eyebrow at you. 

“What?” You cross your arms over your chest.

“This’ll be tough, okay?” He says lowly. “I need to understand why your power makes your hands bleed. Then, we can work from there.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Law continues like he can sense your unease, “But—”

You grimace. “Okay.” 

“Okay?”

You nod and wave him over. “Yes, it’s fine. Now, let’s go, I’ve been waiting to kick your ass all week.” 

“I won’t go easy on you, sweetheart,” Law steps on the plank behind you. 

You hum, jumping onto the grass. “I don’t expect you to. Besides, my bounty isn’t high for no reason.”

Law pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Guess we’ll see, yeah?”

“Lead the way, Captain.”

—

“Is this necessary?” 

Law ignores you and continues using shambles to transport various logs and rocks into the clearing you found. The trees are taller than you thought, and you tilt your head to see the canopy. 

You understand why he’s doing it, moving obstacles into the area, but for your first time sparring with him, you figured it was a little overkill. 

It's silent, except for the leaves rustling in the breeze and insects humming. You've noticed that no birds inhabit the island, making the forest eerie and your hair stand on end. 

You turn, feeling like someone’s watching you, before Law reappears, making a beeline for you. 

He pulls the hat off his head and tosses it to the side. “Ready?” 

You blink, spinning to face him. “Now?” 

You ignored the layout of the obstacles. 

“Your opponent would’ve attacked you already,” Law deadpans, lifting his hand. “Room.” 

You squeak in surprise, leaping back when the blue dome approaches you. “Hey! I have fought before, you know. I know how it works.” 

Collecting your thoughts, you throw your hands up, almost tripping on a stray branch. You watch Law across the area; his gaze burns you, and you shiver. 

“Sew.” 

Threads materialise before you, and you aim for Law’s arms, deflating when he cuts them away easily with his katana. 

“You’re gonna need to do a lot better than that.”

You clench your jaw. Oh, so he’s cocky. “Sew.” 

“Shambles.”

And then he disappears, a branch hanging in the air and dropping to the ground where he once was. With your head on a swivel, you try to place him. Your threads vanish when they have nowhere to go, and you listen for him. 

“Too slow…”

You freeze at the feeling of cool metal across your throat. 

“That’s not fair,” You whisper, inhaling sharply and keeping your chest still. You didn’t even hear him.

“How would you get out of this?” He asks, breath hot on your ear. His forearm is firm around your stomach, and his chest is pressed against your back. 

You roll your eyes as you slowly weave threads around Law’s ankles. He doesn't make it easy for you, especially with his body flush on yours. Sighing, you lean your head back on his shoulder. You don’t realise just how close Law is until you feel his lips brush the shell of your ear. The sensation sends shivers down your spine. 

Law makes a sound of surprise. “What are you doing?”

You use his shock to your advantage, grabbing his right wrist with your left and pulling down. His katana falls forward, and you use needles to pierce his skin with minuscule pricks until he retracts the arm around your torso.

He lets out a grunt of discomfort as you lunge forward, pushing his stomach with your hand. You glance back to see Law fall backwards, the threads around his ankles doing their job. A large needle takes shape in your fist, and you lean over him, the tip against his jugular. Your legs are on either side of his hips, and your free hand is on his chest. 

Law smirks, his breathing ragged and eyes dark as he watches you. “Good.”

You lean back, the needle dissipating. “I—”

And then you’re on the ground, looking up at where you just sat, where Law sits on top of you. 

You feel your face heat up. 

“Never let your guard down,” He says, pinning your arms above your head. “Dead.” 

You wiggle your wrists to avert his attention from your bashful expression. “Get off.” 

His grip only tightens. “Fight.” 

You smirk, noticing his eyes widen when he feels a sharp point at his back. You hold a large needle, the tip scratching his spine. If this were a real-life situation, the needle as thick as a branch would be through his chest. So, you aim your threads at the trees behind Law, tying them to two thick trunks. 

“Well, sweetheart?” His voice is low. “What’re you gonna do besides threaten me with an oversized needle?” 

“Sew.” 

The threads fly toward him, wrap under his armpits and over his shoulders, and pull. Law flies back. Before he hits the tree, he appears next to it, a twig breaking to pieces against the trunk instead. 

“Shambles.” 

Trusting your instincts, you know he will swap you with the rock in front of him. Lifting your fist, your body is doused with tingles, and then you’re throwing your arm, your fist connecting with his jaw. His head snaps to the side. 

“Fuck,” Law spits blood onto the dirt. 

You bounce back on your toes. “Not so tough now, huh, big boy?” 

Law meets your glare with his own, and you feel the tendrils of your power purring against your skin. The sun pours through the canopy, the shadows dancing under your feet. You choose to use them to your advantage.

Threads snake along the forest floor, and you keep your eyes on Law to distract him. He pants, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, and you’re sure you look the same. You stand there, staring at each other, your threads slinking around him. Law’s tongue darts out to catch the blood on his lip before it drips onto his shirt, and he smiles, blood painting his teeth. The sight is unholy, and a shiver goes down your spine. 

“Well?” 

You continue to say nothing, your eyes trailing down his face to his lips and then further. Law stands there as you blatantly check him out. You never quite realised how tall he is; being in a cramped submarine makes everyone look tall, and maybe it's his terrible posture, too, because when you look at him now, he’s menacing. 

You want to climb him like a tree. 

You shake your head, remembering where you are. “Sew.” 

And then your threads wrap around his body, tightening. You approach him slowly, like a predator with its prey. 

“If you wanted to tie me up so bad, you should’ve just asked.” 

His comment has you gaping, and then he’s gone, swapping himself with another rock. You sigh and turn around, ducking before he can knock you over. 

Your palm shoots out, knocking him in the sternum. Law gasps and grabs your wrist, flipping your body so your chest is against a tree trunk. He stands flush against you. You pant with exhaustion, sweat dripping down the side of your face. 

“Go again,” Law growls, stepping back and letting you off the tree. “Room.” 

Your face hardens, and you run to put distance between you. “Needles.” 

Giant metal needles materialise before you, pointing directly at Law. You see his eyes widen slightly at their speed, but once your needles enter his room, he cuts them down like they’re cooked noodles. 

“Again.” 

“Fuck you.” 

Law’s eyebrow quirks up, a cocky smirk making your skin burn. “Again.” 

“Needles.” 

“Room.”

A familiar blue dome approaches, and you throw everything you can at him, but he’s quick. Law dodges and weaves through your attacks, slicing through all threads and slashing all needles you send him. 

You want to scream with frustration. Law retracts his room, opening his mouth to call out something. But blood slides down your forearms, and something snaps inside you. 

You know what’s happening, but you won’t stop it. You won’t use your full potential. Your grip on your ability slips, and your available power runs out, making the needles spin in the air and aim for Law. 

“No,” You whisper, trying to pull the needles away from him with the fumes of power you have left in your reserve, but it’s not enough. 

Law readies his katana, swiping at the needles as they race towards him like missiles. Usually, you’d see objects fly in different directions after being sliced by him. But, like he didn’t even brush them, the needles continue their path toward Law, and he pauses. “Shambles.” 

“Law!” You scream, watching him stumble to the forest floor in a different spot completely. 

Sprinting over to him, you put your hands on his chest. That’s when you notice the blood on your hands, and you run your hands over his torso to check for injuries. 

“Law?” You murmur, seeing his eyes squeezed shut. “Law.”

“You shouldn’t care for your opponent,” He groans and sits up, his hand rubbing his sternum. “But that was strong. Good.” 

Shaking your head, you ignore his stupid comment, your bloody palm over your mouth. “I hurt you.”

“I’m fine.”

“You fell.” 

“That was from shambles. Lost my balance.”

You stand on shaky legs. “What if I hit you?”

“You didn’t,” Law follows you up, noticing the blood on your hands. His breath catches in his throat, and he double-checks his body. He’s uninjured. 

Law is behind you when you turn, circling to stand before you. “Look at me.”

He speaks your name lowly. 

��Look at me,” He repeats, tone coaxing. 

You can’t, eyes focused on the blood dripping from your fingers. His hand brushes your cheek, and then his fingers are on your chin, tilting your face to his. 

“I’m fine, see,” Law pulls away from you, lifting his arms out to the sides. “You didn’t hurt me.” 

“But, the blood,” You say, bringing your hands closer to your face. “There’s so much of it.” 

Law closes his palms around your fingers, the blood smearing. “I’m okay, sweetheart, and so are you. We just need to work on using all of your available power, that’s all.”

You look into his eyes, the steel grey of them comforting. A shadow of a smile finds its way to his cheeks, and you exhale shakily. 

You won’t be using your full power in front of him. 

“You promise?” 

Law nods, squeezing your hands tighter. “Promise.” 

You breathe in and out, focusing on trying to stop the tears from collecting on your waterline.

Law lowers your hands, releasing them before he steps back and clears his throat, his usual hard exterior like a mask. “Do you want to go back to the sub?” 

You shake your head, trying to rub your palms on your pants. “I just want to stay here a bit longer. Don’t want anyone to see me like this.” 

“Like what?”

“Like I’m out of control.” 

Law sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. He’s thinking, you know that much. And the more you look at him, the more injuries you see. There’s a nasty bruise forming on the side of his jaw where you punched him, as well as dried blood on the corner of his lips, and there’s a little rope burn on the side of his neck. You don’t want to know what you look like. 

“C’mon,” Law says, turning and walking away from you. 

“Where’re we going?” 

“I think there’s a creek down here,” He nods in the direction he’s walking. “We’ll get the blood off you.”

You nod but don’t say anything. Law glances over his shoulder. 

“Is that okay?” 

“Oh,” You look up. “Yeah, that’s fine.” 

Law stops to wait for you to catch up. When you do, he leans his head down. “You were holding back.” 

Your shoulders tense. “Why do you say that?”

Law snorts. “Look at how much blood’s on your hands. It’s like a massacre.” 

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” You shrug. “Is that a problem?” 

“I can handle myself.”

You finally hear the creek he was talking about and ignore him. You haven’t heard the running water in a while despite being underwater. There’s something comforting about gurgling water flowing over rocks. 

“Next time we spar,” Law keeps his voice low. “I want to see why your bounty’s so high, okay? Because right now, you’re at 70 million berries.” 

You open your mouth to defend yourself, but he continues.

“There’s clearly more to your power than just throwing around needles and thread. I want to see it.” 

You let out a shaky breath. “My body will need to rest before I can do that.”

Law nods curtly. “And I respect that. Just don’t go easy on me next time.” 

You look at him to see a smirk playing on his lips. Scoffing, you bump him with your shoulder. 

The creek comes into view, and you rush to it, dipping your hands in the freezing water to clean your hands. As you scrub, Law sits beside you. 

The urge to tell him everything eats at you. You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t tell him. He’s a rival pirate. But when you give him a sidelong glance and see the content glint in his eye, you break. You hope you don’t regret it. 

“I don’t use my true power,” You mumble, hoping he can’t hear you. 

Law blinks but leans toward you. You kick yourself when you realise he does. “Why?” 

“I’m scared of it.”

He doesn’t say anything, letting you continue. 

“My bounty’s so high and has been for years because of the few times I used it.”

“And you’d never use it again?” 

You ponder his question. “If the situation calls for it, then I would. But with Luffy, I never have to. We always find a way out of things.”

Law tilts his head, and you can tell there’s something he wants to ask. 

“Just say it,” You wave your hand. You’re sure you know what he’s going to ask anyway, so you may as well get it over with. 

“Can you use it on me?” 

You still. That was not what you were expecting.

“The Sew-Sew Fruit,” Law sits up straighter. “If what I’ve gathered from the abilities you’ve shown me and my research, I can guess that your true power is a mindscape where you can cut objects, people, from this world and sew them into your own. A sort of alternate reality.” 

You curse his brilliant mind. “Maybe you’re too smart for your own good.” 

“Am I right?” 

You keep washing your hands to busy yourself. “I don’t take entire people, only their souls. Why would you want me to use it on you?” 

“So I can help you.”

Something tugs on your subconscious, and you try your best to pinpoint it. “Are you crazy?” 

“Maybe.” Law puts his hands on your wrists, stopping your rough scrubbing—your hands are clean. 

His fingers are rough against yours, and you try your best to think of another topic because you sure as hell aren’t thinking about your power right now. 

“What do your tattoos mean?”

Law looks at you surprised. He’s silent momentarily, swallowing thickly before pulling his hands away from yours and running his fingers over his knuckles. You can tell he doesn’t talk about himself much because he mulls over the words he wants to say in his mouth before he does. 

“These remind me of what’s at stake when treating patients. Helps keep me calm.” 

You stare at the letters, reflecting on what Shakuyaku told you when you were on Sabaody. Trafalgar Law, the Surgeon of Death. 

When he doesn’t go on about the others, you don’t ask. 

“Cool,” You say, picking a loose thread on your pants. 

Law hums, watching your fingers fidget. 

You wipe your hands dry on your t-shirt. “Anyway, why do you want me to use Seam on you?” 

“Seam,” Law mutters. “Straw Hat said you need to become stronger. I told him I’d help, so I will with the only way I know how.” 

“Which is?”

“A hands-on approach.”

You scratch your hairline in an attempt to hide from him. It’s true what Luffy told him because he also told you and your crew. Get stronger.

You cough. “What do you get out of this?” 

“Now you’re thinking like a pirate,” Law teases before he shrugs. “Nothing but the satisfaction of helping a friend.” 

Friend. 

Your stomach churns with discomfort, and you’re unsure why the word burns you so much. It sounds foreign on Law’s tongue. But despite his joking manner, the words he spoke when you first met scolds you from the inside out. 

“But I’m just useful to you, right?” You poke your finger into his chest. “What did you call me? Leverage?” 

Law sighs, running his hand through his hair. “That was before. It’s different now.” 

“Before what?” You ask, standing from the bed of the creek. Law follows, and he towers over you. He swallows, and you can tell he’s deciding whether to tell you. His cheeks go ruddy, and you squint at him in confusion. 

“It’s not important.”

“Law.”

It’s hurting him to say it.

“Before—”

“Captain! Quick!” 

Law’s head snaps to the side, concern changing his features. You watch him, mind racing at what he could possibly mean about before. 

“Bepo?” Law yells. “What’s wrong?” 

“We gotta go!” The bear calls from the forest. “The island’s full of giant lizards, and they’re attacking us!” 

Law looks unamused but moves anyway, running in the direction of Bepo’s voice and leaving you next to the water. 

You stare at the place he just was, your chest tight. You wipe your nose and return to the sub, watching for the giant lizards Bepo warned you about.

—

It turns out that giant lizards were the codename for Ikkaku’s return. You haven’t bothered to ask why, but you're more anxious about meeting the woman responsible for the maintenance of the submarine. 

In the distance, Law stands beside the Polar Tang, his hand on his forehead to shade his eyes from the sun's harsh glare. Above him, a large seagull descends, and on the back of it, a woman. 

When you make it to the sub, the bird is gone, and all that remains is Ikkaku. Her dark curly hair is covered with a yellow and orange striped beanie, and she still dons the white Heart Pirates boiler suit. She speaks animately to Penguin as you look around for Law. He must’ve returned to the submarine when you put your head down to watch for sparse rocks. 

Penguin calls your name, and you smile. “Hi!” 

Ikkaku eyes you up and down, her expression sour. “A Straw Hat, huh? I don’t know what you’re still doing here, but Captain is more than capable of handling whatever it is alone.” 

You come up short, watching as she bumps Penguin’s shoulder and walks away. You purse your lips, emotion lodged in your throat. The moment is over before it even begins, and there’s a surge of awkward tension in the air. Penguin clears his throat.

“You didn’t do anything,” He reassures, his hat-shrouded eyes darkening. “Ikkaku doesn't trust you guys. A-And by you guys, I mean the Straw Hats. Her, Uni, and Clione have a thing... I’m sure they'll get over it.” 

You hum and pretend the words don’t hurt you the way they do. Shrugging, you fake a laugh. “It’s fine. I’m used to it. I wouldn't trust me either.” 

He calls your name as you leave, not sparing a glance in the direction of the group that whispers as you pass by.

Bepo stands idly on the deck, twisting the map in his paws. You raise an eyebrow when he gives you a pitiful look.

"I don't need sympathy, Bepo."

He squeaks and almost rips the paper. "No, no sympathy here."

You give him a tight-lipped smile and pat his arm.

"I'm sorry," He murmurs, hanging his head.

"Wanna go inside?"

Bepo nods and turns, shuffling his feet to the door. His movements make a laugh tumble from your lips, and when he hears, Bepo's eyes are full of hope.

You reluctantly smile and shove him, though it does nothing to sway the tall mink.

"At least you've got me," Bepo says. "I know I'm not much, but—"

"Quit the self-deprecating jokes, Bepo," Shachi coughs from behind you. Penguin stands beside him and laughs. You can tell they're trying to lighten your mood.

You won't admit it, but it works.

"Yeah, you're gonna make the Tang flood with your pathetic tears," Penguin quips, brushing past you and down the stairs to the common area.

Bepo's jaw goes slack, and he pauses mid-step. "I'm sorry."

Chatter from the rest of the crew fills the stairwell, and you grab Bepo's paw to drag him down.

"Don't listen to them," You say, side-eyeing Penguin and Shachi when you pass them on the way to the couch. "They're just jealous that I like you more than them."

"Woah! Rude!"

"That's too far and NOT true!"

Bepo sticks out his tongue, and his two best friends pout.

You shake your head at their antics and wonder how you got so lucky to end up with them as your friends—you'd never say it out loud, but they fill the Straw Hat crew-sized void inside you.

— Scene 3 —

He’s watching you. 

If it were anyone else, it’d be unsettling. But Law’s steely grey eyes, usually reserved and cold, turn different when they’re on you. At least, that’s what you tell yourself. 

It’s a night off that hasn’t happened while you’ve been aboard, but Penguin and Shachi tell you they're the best nights of the year, and who are you to be doubtful? 

So, you are sitting on a couch in the common area, half-focused on the poker game before you. You’re not playing; instead, you choose to observe Bepo struggling to keep the cards in his paws and Shachi sneaking peeks at the ones that slip. A glass of who knows what, courtesy of Penguin, sits between your fingers, but you don’t drink any more of it—he’s very heavy-handed. 

Across the room, Law sits on a stray dining chair, his legs spread. He also has a near-full glass, holding it between his open knees as he leans his forearms on his thighs. His hat is lopsided on his head, and his katana is propped against the wall beside him. Jean-Bart talks animately, but you know Law isn’t listening. He’s focused on you, after all. 

He asked if you could use Seam on him a week and a half ago, and since then, he’s kept to himself. It’s annoying you. 

Your eyes flicker to his, and he doesn’t react. You raise an eyebrow at him, to which he mirrors. Law’s expression remains cold, and you tilt your head in a silent question. You hope he understands you. 

Law looks away, and you deflate. 

“You want to take my place?” Shachi asks, throwing his cards on the table as his crewmates laugh. Uni, Clione, and Ikkaku remain silent, and you shake your head, disappointed. 

“I think I’ll go to bed.”

Penguin boos you from the other side of the table, and Bepo pouts. “You can’t!”

“Sorry, boys,” You force a laugh, setting your glass on the side table beside the couch. “Have fun.”

They all groan and make excuses why you can’t leave while you walk from the room. The stairwell is silent, and you take the stairs quickly. You risk a glance over your shoulder as you rush to your room.

The thought of finally having another woman on board used to make you excited; you were so keen to make another friend, but now it makes you bitter. It seems your reputation precedes you and not in the way you wish. From her comment last week, you guess Ikkaku thinks you’re using Law, but she could be further from the truth. You’ve grown fond of the man, and if you’re reading the signals right, he, you. 

An almost inaudible zip and boots clicking behind you make your heart skip; you’re certain Law used Shambles to follow you. 

“Yes?” 

Law doesn’t speak. Instead, there’s another zip right next to you and another, and then you stumble into his office. 

“Why,” You hunch over, panting, “would you do that?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me.” 

You sigh. “Give me a minute.” 

Law makes a sound of indignation. “You were fine when we were sparring.”

“I hadn’t been drinking then,” You say, stretching back up. 

He looks at you unimpressed. “Are you done?”

You level him with a glare, and when you don’t respond, Law circles his desk. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Ikkaku doesn’t like me.” 

Law hums and runs his tongue over his teeth. “Yeah, she’s made her dislike known.” 

You put your hands out. “What do I do? I’m not staying here if I drive a wedge between you and your crew…” 

“You’re staying. I want you here. They can deal with it.” 

The underlying desperation in his tone catches you off guard, and you open your mouth to respond when he cuts you off with a different topic entirely. 

“When will you be ready to use Seam?”

“Huh?” You blink. 

“Will you be ready tomorrow?” 

“Tomorrow?” You ask, still grasping the fact that he wants you here. “Where’re we going tomorrow?” 

“Bepo said there’s an island ahead,” He says. “I thought it’d be a good opportunity to start your training.” 

“We did start.”

“Not with Seam.” 

You regret telling him its name. “Fine, yeah, I’ll be ready tomorrow.” 

“Repeat it back to me.”

You furrow your brows. “What?”

Law sighs. “Repeat the plan, so I know we’re on the same page.”

“You’ve got issues.” 

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

You gape at him and scoff. You can’t believe him right now, especially after the momentary display of vulnerability. 

Rolling your eyes, you groan. “Fine.”

Law tilts his head. 

“We’ll train at the next island,” You rehash. “And there I’ll use Seam. Okay?”

“Great,” He smiles. 

You narrow your eyes when you see it’s fake. That son of a— “Great.”

“Perfect.”

“Perfect!” 

And then you leave, wanting nothing more than to wipe that pretty, cocky smirk off his face. 

— Scene 4 —

The Polar Tang docked at the island not twelve hours later. 

Your stomach flips with anxiety, your throat thick with nerves. You barely speak, choosing to keep your jaw set to prevent yourself from throwing up. 

You know you can pull out at any time, but the thought of holding yourself back any longer makes you seethe. If Luffy wants you to get stronger, then you will.

“You good?”

You let out a shaky breath, looking to your right. The coast of the island is calm, and the sun barely rocks where you stand on the deck. “Should be. Just gotta get the nerves out.”

Law looks over the uninhabited island. “You can say no.”

“I know.” 

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Law,” You sigh, turning toward him. His eyes are wide with apprehension, but he relaxes when you rest your fingers on his bicep. “I want to. This needs to happen if I’m to survive in the New World.”

Law raises an eyebrow, still unsure, but nods. “Okay.” 

And then he’s gone, appearing 30 feet away on the grass. “Room.”

You jump down from the deck onto the ground, walking into his Room. You’d discussed the entire plan earlier today, hunched over his desk with a pen and paper. You were to summon Seam inside Law’s Room in case the island decides to surprise you with giant lizards (you laughed when Law brought it up) or if something goes wrong. You’re not sure how it would work considering his consciousness inside your mindscape, but if it makes him feel safer, you’re happy to comply. 

Law stands there, waiting for you to approach. “Ready, sweetheart?”

You nod, resting your hand on his arm. You inhale sharply and deeply, closing your eyes and calming the nerves, reaping havoc within your stomach. 

Law watches you, and somehow, that slows your racing heart. You’re sure it’s something he can do inside Room, but you put that thought aside, focusing on honing your power. 

“Seam.”

Law makes a startled sound, and you know he sees the scene before you. Your eyes flicker open, and for the first time in years, you see fragments of the world mending together with your own—the one created by the Sew-Sew Fruit. You’re still in the real world, but you’ve taken Law’s soul in your hands. 

You feel him stiffen as his heart slows and his breathing weakens. You hate having someone’s life in your hands like this—maybe you should get Law’s death tattoos inked on your fingers, too. 

You transport yourself into Seam, seeing Law walking around aimlessly. His eyes widen as he curses silently, watching the ocean hang from the sky, the Polar Tang floating mid-air. 

Seam is a mixture of the current place and all the others you’ve seen. And since becoming a pirate, Seam has grown exponentially. To the right, you see the Going Merry docked in Skypeia, the clouds from the sky island hanging around it. Behind you, there’s a combination of the snowy mountains of Drum Island and the dunes of Alabasta, and to your left sits the Baratie. On the horizon before you, bats fly around, and the mansion on Thriller Bark sits ominously in the distance. 

With the ocean above you, it’s easy to see where things are. And beneath your feet is grass. It’s always been grass. 

It’s a collection of your memories, you realise. And you tear up at the sight of everything around you. It’s been a long time since you’ve been here. 

He whispers your name in disbelief. “This is incredible.”

You shrug one shoulder, not used to Law using such words. 

Law spins around and walks toward you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, are you?” 

“I feel weightless,” Law huffs a laugh. “What’s going on outside?”

“You’re dead.”

Law’s look of incredulity drops. “What?”

“Not really, but it seems like you are. When someone’s inside Seam, their soul transfers over, and their body doesn’t. So we’re still on the island, but your body is frozen in a dreamlike state.” 

“Can you use this to fight? Can you simply touch someone, and their soul comes here? How many souls can transfer?” 

“You’re full of questions today,” You joke, the feeling of being in Seam alleviating the heaviness on your chest. It surprises you. “But to put it simply, yes, yes, and as many as I want, but the more there are, the more it drains me.” 

“Wow,” Law breathes, his face to the sky as he studies his submarine. “You seal souls in here.” 

The initial relief of being here and nothing bad happening dissipates, and you nod solemnly. 

“Yes.”

“You’re incredible.”

You whip your head toward him, the movement quick. “What?”

Law laughs unguarded. It’s a sound you’ve never heard, and you want to bottle it up and keep it forever. “This—you are extraordinary. ”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Your cheeks are hot. 

Who is this man, and what has he done with Law? 

“And you don’t use it? Why?” 

It’s a loaded question, but Law doesn’t seem to notice your wary expression. 

“I—uh, there was an incident.”

Law gives you a quizzical look. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“No,” You nod. “I want to.”

He remains silent, giving you time to collect your thoughts.

“A girl from my island was killed when she was in Seam.” 

Law listens intently, pulling you to the floor. You sit across from him, your legs crossed and your knees touching his. The grass underneath you is plush and never itchy. Your fingertips play with the blades of green, but they never rip. 

“It was years ago, so don’t pity me, okay?” 

He says nothing.

“Pirates attacked my island while I was using Seam on my friend, and because I know what’s going on on the outside, I ran, thinking my friend was following me. I didn’t know that a person’s physical body was unresponsive while they were in there. But because she was basically dead on her feet, and her soul was still in Seam, when the pirate killed her, her soul had nowhere to return to.”

Law’s thinking, you can tell. His eyebrows triangulate, and then realisation overcomes his expression.

“She’s still here.”

You nod and turn, pointing to a small house in the distance. It looks ragged now, but it still fills your heart with grief. It is your old home. “She lives in there. It’s protected against the other souls I bring here, but she remains the age she died.” 

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

You shrug. “It is what it is. No use dwelling on the past.”

“Can I use my powers in here?”

“Your Devil Fruit soul is in here, isn’t it?” 

He nods. “So, if I use Room…”

“Its power and effectiveness will be depleted, but it will work.” 

“So you can fight people with Devil Fruits here. Their power is just weak.”

“Yeah…” You trail off. “But I can also move between worlds and kill them outside when their soul’s in here, trapping them forever. It’s the same here. If I kill the soul, the body dies. Either way, it’s like cutting down someone already dead.” 

Law exhales. You know the look in his eye, and your chest tightens.

“You want to use me.”

He sighs. “It’s not like that. I would never force you—I’d need your permission beforehand, of course.”

“What is it?”

Law scratches his forehead. “I’ve had this plan to become a Warlord.”

You freeze with your heart in your throat. A Warlord? “Why?”

“It’s complicated.”

You can tell he’s never told anyone this piece of information before by how he stutters it out—you’ve never seen Law stutter in the few months you’ve lived with his crew.

“If you’re going to use me to get there, I need to know why.”

Law takes your hand. “I’d only bring you with me if you wanted to, okay? There’s no ulterior motive. You’re powerful enough to kill me. This place is proof of that.” 

“Prove it to me,” You chew on your lip. “And then tell me your plan.”

He levels you with a wary look that cracks his face open. You’ve known Law to be emotionally constipated; it's a fact, but the face he wears now is one that makes him look younger, one that he’s never shown anyone in a long time. 

Law carefully brings his hands to his chest. He whispers something, scalpel. The technique is weak here, but you watch as his chest opens and his heart slides from a square slot. You stare at it in awe. 

“I’ve never done this before, given this willingly to someone else, okay?” His voice is wobbly. “Be careful with it.” 

And when he places the blue cube in your hands, your eyes fill with tears. His heart sits in your palms; it throbs softly and is warm. So warm. 

Then you realise your position: A pirate of a rival crew, holding the heart of a captain who’s powerful enough to become a Warlord. You could easily crush it between your hands, and being inside Seam, you could do it without him interfering. You could save yourself the trouble in the future when you’re back with the Straw Hats. It’s so easy. 

You peer up at Law, who remains still, his eyes on yours. You have control of his heart, and he’s staring at you. It’s then you know what this means. What he means to you. You’ve known him for two and a half months, but you would trust him with your life, and it’s obvious he would you, too. 

The throbbing of his heart increases, and you giggle in shock at the phenomenon. 

It's a monumental moment, you know this, though you feel nothing but anticipation in your chest. Anticipation for the sole reason that Law knows you're powerful enough to help him, and that makes him excited, which in turn, makes you excited. 

You love him. 

The realisation hits you all at once, and silent tears slide down your cheeks, and when your eyes focus back on him, everything you’ve ever wanted is sitting right before you. 

The moment is etching itself into your brain as you sit there, arms shaking with anxiety. 

You swallow and exhale deeply. “I trust you.” 

“I want to kill the four emperors.” 

—

So much for training, you think as you get back inside the Polar Tang. 

After you returned Law’s soul to his body, he asked endless questions. And who are you to turn down someone as eager to learn as he is? 

You’ve never seen Law so animated, and judging by the looks on Bepo’s face, neither has he. Law leads you down to his office, the door opposite your bedroom, and clicks it shut behind him. 

You sit on a chair facing his desk, fingernails picking the worn leather. “So, what's the plan?” 

Law pokes around the bookshelf on the room's far wall, picking out different books. He puts the stack on his desk and sits in his chair. Law grabs the first book on the pile. There’s an air about him that makes your heart swell tenfold—he has a child-like wonder etched into his expression and a giddy dance in his fingers as he flips to a predetermined page. 

“I’m going to give the World Government one hundred hearts.” 

You're taken aback, leaning forward in the armchair. The way he says it with such an innocent flicker to his tone makes you question if he really just said what he did. “Whose?” 

“Pirates,” He pours over the page, using his finger to find the line he’s looking for. 

“Isn’t that unethical?” 

Law snorts, glancing up at you. “I’m not killing them.”

You purse your lips with slight amusement. “Okay…” Like that makes it better. 

“The Marines can decide what to do with the hearts.”

“And how are you doing this?”

Law observes you for a second. “Ever heard of Poneglyphs?” 

“Robin told me.” 

“Nico Robin?”

You hum. “What about them?”

“I’ve got intel that there's one on an island called Hachinosu in the New World, and we’re going to infiltrate it.” 

“Okay, I get that, but why steal the hearts?”

“To get the government’s attention.” 

“There’s more to this you’re not telling me,” You say. 

Law nods. “Of course there is. But this is a stepping stone in the grand scheme.” 

“And what’s the grand scheme?”

“I need to kill someone,” Law mutters. That was easy. 

“You don’t mean…”

“Say it.”

“Another Warlord?”

You get your response when he doesn’t answer, and decide to take a different approach. 

“What’s this got to do with the Four Emperors of the Sea?” 

Law exhales deeply. “Kaido wants to monopolise on SMILE to create a pirate crew solely of Devil Fruit users. Donquioxte Doflamingo runs the factory that produces them on Dressrosa, another island in the New World.” 

“Wait,” You close your eyes, mind puzzled. “You’re gonna need to explain the whole thing to me.”

Law turns the book in front of him to show you the page. There’s an illustration of a giant building, in front of it stands a group of people in white coats. 

“Twenty years ago, there were scientists on this island, Punk Hazard, who artificially created ancient giants,” He points to an island on the map on the opposite page. “Kaido purchased these giants for his crew at the time.”

Law looks at you expectantly to make sure you’re following. When you nod, exhaling, he continues. 

“Two years ago, when the island was being used by Vegapunk, the island exploded when one of his scientists threw a fit with his Devil Fruit, rendering it uninhabitable.

“This year, the poison gas that was on the island as a result of that scientist’s rage dispersed. After Marineford, it was the site of Aokiji and Akainu’s battle. But, if I’ve heard correctly, there are plans to restore Vegapunk’s laboratory and start producing a substance called SAD, which can be used to make SMILE or man-made Devil Fruits. Kaido is the mastermind behind this since he took the original giants from the scientists before Vegapunk. Therefore, I need to become a Warlord to have unrestricted access to and destroy the site.” 

He’s got this all figured out. 

“So, who's the Warlord you want to kill?” 

“Donquixote Doflamingo.”

You ponder it. “Why?”

“Revenge.” 

“And what do I get out of this?”  

Law runs his eyes over you. “Think of it as helping a friend. We help each other reach our goals. Me, killing Doflamingo, and you, stronger than you’ve ever been.”

You consider his proposition, pursing your lips when he rehashes what he said on Lizard Island. 

Helping a friend. You wonder if it’s something he says to every pirate he makes an alliance with, but you doubt it. You’ve been on his submarine long enough to know that that word isn’t in this man’s vocabulary—you wonder what it means to him. 

It’s a huge plan, one that could fail at any time, and sure, there are things he’s not telling you—like how the Poneglyphs and Doflamingo are correlated, perhaps they’re not—but you know your answer. You’ve always been a sucker for revenge plans. 

Before you tell him, you ponder how your crew is going, if they’d be scared that you’re even considering helping someone become a Warlord. You think about the ones you’ve defeated or fought before: Crocodile, Blackbeard, Moria, Bartholomew Kuma. But there’s a few that helped you. Boa Hancock is the main woman on your mind, and you smile. You hope Luffy’s okay. 

So, your decision is an easy one. You smile. “When do we start?”  

— Scene 5 —

Bepo knows something’s going on. He sees the silent conversations between you and his captain and the meetings in Law’s office. At first, he thinks nothing of it since Law’s training you, But when he watches you and Law whisper in a crowded room, his poor little heart can’t take it any longer. 

“So, you and Law…”

You don’t look up from the map Bepo has you outlining. “What about me and Law?”

“Are you… you know…”

When you glance at him, the fur on his cheeks is tinted red. “What are you talking about?”

Bepo squeaks. “Is there something going on?” 

Your hand pauses on the page. “Like what?”

“Something… you know,” Bepo whines. “Don’t make me say it.”

“Bepo, I couldn’t make you say anything. I don’t even know what you’re referring to.” 

“Are you kissing?” He slaps his paw over his mouth. 

You gape at him, your face heating up. “What? No!”

“I’m sorry!” Bepo cries.

You sit awkwardly with your face in your hands, having dropped the pencil at his question. 

“Talk to Law if you’re so concerned about it,” You say, dropping your hands to your lap. “But never ask that again.”

Bepo stands from the table, his chair scraping. “I’m sorry!” 

And then he runs from the room. You stare at where he just sat, contemplating if you and Law looked like that from an outsider’s perspective. Surely, you have countless meetings about the mission and training at almost every possible island the submarine encounters, but that’s all business. Your body warms like it's trying to rid itself of a virus. 

You rest your forehead on the table. If the Heart Pirates think something like that is happening, the alliance between you and Law will never work. He can’t have his crew distrusting him. 

There’s a crackling through the speakers. 

“Meeting in the common area in 5. I won’t tell you again.”

When you get there, the crew is packed inside. You spot Bepo near the front of the room and push through pirates to get there; all of them are happy to let you through. You wonder if they think you’re only here for one reason. The thought disgusts you. 

“We have a new objective,” Law announces. “To kill Domflamingo, a Warlord status must be achieved.”

The Heart Pirates gasp and start murmuring. A few pirates, namely Uni, Ikkaku, and Clione, who you’ve yet to have a proper conversation with, eye you with disdain. They clearly have a problem with you, a Straw Hat, being here, but you give them a tight-lipped smile and look back to Law. 

He looks at you and says your name. “We’re forming an alliance. She has Devil Fruit powers that could make the process quicker. Therefore, we’ll be working together for the foreseeable future. We leave for the New World now.”

Your smile is still a thin line, but you know why he had to tell him—they’re his crew, after all. 

“So get your shit together,” He glares at the three pirates who regard you with contempt. “Back to work.” 

A collective yes, captain rumbles through the room before they go back to their tasks. 

“And Bepo,” Law says, his voice low. “Get your head out of the gutter.” 

Bepo whines and then sulks as he leaves, his head down. Penguin and Shachi bump his shoulders, snickering. You shadow them down to the boiler room, your steps light and calculated. 

It was a technique Law taught you, how to keep your steps silent. Your training has been more beneficial than you imagined—Zoro will be so proud of your stealth skills—and you still have much to learn. 

Seam has been easier each time you summon it, and the thought of doing so now brings little to no negative emotions. You’ve learnt to embrace the technique instead of fearing it—as you said, there’s no use dwelling on the past. 

Two weeks isn’t a lot of time, but you reiterate the plan in your mind every available moment Bepo has you watching him work instead of making you outline islands. It’s all you think about before you sleep and when you wake up. That and Law. 

You shake your head. There’s no time to think about him when the most important year of your life is about to begin. 

Your mother always told you that if you risk nothing, you’re risking everything. And if you and Law are to stop Doflamingo and whatever he has over Law’s head, it’s only a matter of time before you must decide what is worth risking for the sake of humanity. 

— Scene 6 —

“Docking!” 

The submarine surfaces at a random island in the New World. You’re the first to emerge from the entrance, and people stare at the submarine with suspicious glares. You pay no mind.

It’s been three months since Law told you his plan and three months since your hands last bled. The Heart Pirates are on their way to Hachinosu Pirate Island, where the Poneglyph is, and Law recommended a trial for the heart-stealing scheme. The victim is some lowly pirate named Seamus Wells. 

Since you’ve entered the New World, you’ve used Seam far more than you ever thought you would, no longer holding back your true power. The mere thought of showing your crew what you’ve become fills you with such anticipation that you can barely contain it nowadays. 

Bepo runs past you, the plank of wood in his paws. He slams it down on the concrete, causing a few civilians to flee in terror. “Oops.”

“Seamus Wells should be staying on the island's east side,” Law announces as his crew files onto the deck. “Keep away from there, understand?” 

Yes, captain. 

“We’ve got five hours to kill before we need to be there,” He says, adjusting the katana on his shoulder. “Do whatever you want.” 

You raise your eyebrows. “You’re not coming?”

“I’d rather stay here than be recognised and jeopardise our plan. Here,” He fishes a baby transponder snail from his coat. “Take this. I’ll let you know if the plan changes.” 

You take it from him, noticing the patterned hat on its head, which is similar to the one that sits on Law’s. “That’s so cute.”

“Shut it,” Law snaps, his cold exterior never wavering. “Bepo, accompany her.”

“Doubt she needs an escort, but okay,” Bepo jokes, pulling you with him off the sub. 

Law turns, pausing to scan the rear of the submarine with his sharp eyes before he goes inside.

Guess he’s all business today. 

“Come on, are you hungry?” 

You smile at the polar bear, dragging your gaze away from Law’s retreating figure. “I could eat.”

Penguin cuts in, his steps aligning with yours. “I’m starving.”

“Me, too,” Shachi groans. 

Bepo shakes his head. “Why’re you two here?”

“Captain told you to accompany her, and we’re accompanying you.” 

Bepo opens to mouth to reply, most likely a complaint, but you point to a restaurant in the distance and a line of people outside. “Let's go there.”

Penguin and Shachi’s steps increase, and then they are running toward the building. There are a few stray screams, but most people disappear when you join the end of the line. 

“What’s their problem?” Bepo stills beside you, and you look up at him. “What?”

“Look.”

Your face and Law’s hang on the wall of the restaurant entrance, and an obscene number of berries are listed below your names. Wanted posters. 

“They know you’re working together.”

“I got that,” You snap, the mere presence of the posters souring your mood. Cursing under your breath, you feel your chest tighten. “But the Straw Hats are meant to be dead.” 

“We should go back to the sub,” Penguin mumbles, his eyes darting in every direction. When you turn to see where he’s looking, you glare at the civilians approaching slowly with firearms. There aren’t many; you count fifteen minimum, but the fact that you’ve been here less than twenty minutes has irritation morphing your features. 

“They’re not meant to know I’m alive.” 

Bepo whines beside you. “We gotta go.”

“Okay, in a second.” You take a second to inspect yours. 400 million berries. 

You pout in confusion. When did that increase? 

And then you slide your eyes to Law’s. 450 million berries. 

You smirk before you notice the whispering occurring around you. Perhaps if you saw them in your own time and not in front of a large group of civilians, you’d taken them down and show Law. There is only a 50 million berry difference. 

The others are already down the road when you decide to leave the line, your nerves simmering. 

If the world knows a Straw Hat is alive, you may as well embrace it. 

“Hurry up!”

You twist your lips, stopping in the middle of the street to observe the civilians. 

“Get outta here, pirate!” “Yeah! Unless you want your head on a stick.” 

You feel a pang of regret in your chest at the fear on their faces but continue toward the Polar Tang. 

There are quick, heavy footfalls behind you. In the distance, you see Law standing on the deck, watching you. His face remains emotionless, but you see a familiar glint in his eye. 

When the person swings their weapon, you dodge swiftly, moving your head slightly to the left. You have yet to face them, but you can imagine the gobsmacked look on their face. 

You refuse to fight a civilian, instead choosing to break out into a sprint toward the submarine. 

“Took you a while,” Law teases. “I was starting to get worried.”

You stick your tongue out, crossing the wood plank to jump onto the deck. “Awww, you care about me?”

“Tsk,” Law turns around, cheeks warming. “We’re going to dock elsewhere.”

You hop down the stairs, preparing yourself for the jolt of the entrance closing. The sub immediately submerges, and Law touches your shoulder to keep you steady. 

“Guess what I saw,” You bite back your smile. 

“Enlighten me.” 

“My bounty’s gone up.”

Law smirks, glancing at the barely contained smile on your face. “Oh, yeah?”

“400 million.”

He whistles lowly. “Soon, you’ll be in the big league, sweetheart.”

You knock his bicep with your shoulder. “Okay, Mr 450 million.” 

“Captain! The east side of the island is approaching.” 

“Surface there,” Law replies without taking his eyes off you. 

His voice lowers. “We’re moving the mission forward. The island’s already aware of our presence. May as well get it over with now.” 

“Docking!”

“Let’s go.”

—

Seamus Wells works in a fish factory. The sun sets behind you as you step through discarded fish guts and bones, the floor slathered with sticky blood. You hold your hand over your nose and mouth, the smell enough to make you gag. 

Law strides ahead of you, the scabbard that holds his katana reflecting the deep gold of the sun. How he’s walking through here fine is unknown to you, but you try to catch up with him, the soles of your boots slipping slightly. 

“You’d think they’d have a better way of managing this,” You murmur. “Poor fish.” 

“Quiet.” 

You frown, mocking him. A crack from the floor above makes your face drop. 

Law stops ahead of you, his hand out, his index finger pointed. You know the gesture. Shut the fuck up, and don’t move. 

His head turns slowly until you see his sidelong glance on you. There are no further sounds, and you hold your breath. 

You realise the sun goes down fairly quickly on San Faldo, and the night air wafts over your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. It’s suddenly dark, and the waves against the wharf outside have settled. 

Unease stews in your stomach, and you resist the urge to run. You don’t dare look behind you in fear of what you may see, focusing your eyes on the staircase in the corner. Across from you, Law senses your discomfort, and his steps are light and calculated as he makes his way over to you. 

You grasp his hand, chills going down your spine as the wind whistles through a crack in the broken window on the far wall. The scene reminds you of Thriller Bark, and you set your jaw in an attempt to stop shivering. 

Law’s hand is big and warm in yours, his skin calloused. His head is on a swivel, monitoring for any danger. You grip harder, moving your other hand to the crook of his elbow. 

And despite the terror coursing through your veins, you can’t help but take note of the hard muscle. It’s a good distraction but not important right now, and you almost laugh at your ridiculousness. Law looks down at you, a quizzical twinkle in his eye, but he doesn’t move an inch. 

You shake against him, the breeze finding its way under your clothes, and notice that you can see it when you breathe. When did the temperature drop so drastically? 

Law points upstairs, to which you do nothing. If he was expecting a response, he didn’t get one. Then, he raises his hand. 

“Shambles,” He whispers, and you almost lose your balance as you land at the foot of the stairs. 

“Don’t make any unnecessary noise,” Law leans to whisper in your ear, and you shiver. 

You silently salute, choosing to lighten the mood with a silly gesture that he blinks at. Law makes to go up the stairs, ignoring your gesture. Panic takes hold of your chest, and you tug him back into you. 

“What’re you doing?”

Law scrunches his face. “Me? What’re you doing?” 

You squeak when there’s a scuffle. Clearly, over it, Law sighs and takes the stairs two at a time. And since he knows you won’t stay downstairs alone, he isn’t surprised when you chase after him, your hand returning to his forearm. 

What you see is nothing short of disgusting. 

“What the fuck.”

The man, who you know is Seamus, sits on a wooden chair, fish blood soaking his clothes. 

“Keep away from me!” 

“Seriously?” Law utters, unimpressed. 

“Stay back!”

You scowl. “And to think I was scared shitless.” 

Law steps away from you. “Room.” 

A familiar blue dome covers you. Law draws his katana from its scabbard, its sleek design glinting in the moonlight. He slices the air, and Seamus is dismembered, his head floating a few feet above his body. 

Seamus screams, noticing his body sitting in the chair headless. “Don’t kill me!”

Law makes quick work of the fish blood, using his power to remove it from Seamus’ clothes. You watch in awe as the white of the t-shirt turns pristine.

You’ve told Law of your admiration for his Devil Fruit powers. He usually waves it off with pink-tinted cheeks and an unamused expression. But watching something like this in action, you want to know just how deep his power goes. 

“Please! I’ll do anything,” Seamus sobs, tears and snot coating his face. “Please don’t kill me.” 

“As you’ve said, asshole,” Law steps back and retracts room. “Your turn.”

You feel your icy cheeks defrost at the realisation of his actions. You give him a smile of appreciation and approach Seamus. 

But when he looks at you, his crying ceases. “What’re you gonna do, huh? Slap me with those little hands? You should let your boyfriend do the work.” 

Law grunts behind you, but you cock your head, pointedly ignoring the boyfriend call. 

Seamus chokes out a laugh between his hiccups. “You don’t scare me.” 

You shrug and place your hand on his greasy hair. “Seam.” 

He goes limp in the chair, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. 

“Can I have fun with him while you’re in there?”

“Go ahead,” You joke before transporting into Seam. 

Seamus’ wails echo through your mindscape when you get there. It’s changed, and you give the scene a look of disgust. Thanks to Seamus, the walls of Seam are painted red, fish blood dripping from the Sunny, coagulating on the sands of Alabasta, and staining the seas of the East Blue. You curse him for tainting your memories. 

He’s running toward the house, and you claw your hand. “Sew.”

He’s yanked back, a thick thread wrapped around his neck. He struggles against it as you pull him toward you, and when he gets a glimpse of you, he screams. 

Needles materialise in your hands, and you slam one of them down just in front of his crotch, to which his eyes bulge out of his head.

“You were talking such a tough game out there, Seamus. What happened?” You'd surely crack a few teeth if you clenched your jaw any harder. “You even said I wasn’t scary, yet you screamed when you saw me.”

He says nothing, but his throat is starting to become raw. 

“You’ve ruined Seam with your stupid, fishy blood tactic,” You complain, sinking the second needle into the grass beside his foot, just knicking the edge of his shoe. “Now, it's all I’m gonna see for the next few weeks.” 

Sighing, you consider him again, groaning when you see that the front of his pants is darker than the rest. 

“Ergh,” You scrunch your nose. “I’m gonna leave now. My job’s done.”

“Don’t kill me!”

When you transport out of Seam, you see Law position his hand for scalpel, and you immediately remove your fingers from the strands of hair.

“Oh,” You roll your lips between your teeth when you circle the chair. You told Law to make a masterpiece, and he did, albeit a little psychotically. 

Law has a callous smile playing on his lips, and the sight is utterly intoxicating. The first time you saw the expression and vacant silver gaze, you understood why they call him the Surgeon of Death—the man is simply brutal. When you first met him, you thought his blood ran cold, but you hadn’t met the man Shakky spoke of until he took the first heart of one hundred. Initially, he scared you, but now, you’re terribly and irrevocably fascinated by him. If only those people knew the side of him that you did. 

“Have fun in there?”

“Looks like your fun puts mine to shame.”

Seamus’s chest is raw, his skin in strips. That’s all you see before you look away. 

“Do it,” You say. “And make it painful.”

Law coughs a laugh. “Feeling a little sadistic, are we?”

You arch an eyebrow. “People like him deserve it.” 

He hums and turns his attention back to Seamus, and you watch as a cube emerges from his chest. It floats into Law’s palm, and he gives it a little squeeze. He observes the body before him writhe in pain, but no noise escapes—Seamus’ soul is still in Seam after all. 

Law hums. “Not as satisfying.”

Clicking your tongue, you remove Seamus from your mindscape, and the room fills with shrieks. You wince, your shoulders raising to your ears. 

“Okay, we’re done,” You say, spinning and making a beeline for the stairs. “C’mon, Hachinosu is waiting for us.” 

Law shoves the heart into his coat and pries his eyes from his victim. 

— Scene 7 —

Your eye twitches as you watch a pirate sock Bepo in the face. You’ve been put on rest before the mission in Hachinosu. Law told you to save energy for it, so you follow his professional instructions. 

On the way to the drop-off point, a ship started bombing the submarine, hence why you’re cringing as Bepo takes another hit.

You stand on the deck of the Polar Tang while the Heart Pirates fight. They looked to be rookies when they attacked the Polar Tang, but you know not to underestimate rookies, especially since you’re a Straw Hat, so when Penguin joked that it was going to be an easy battle, you arched an eyebrow and shook your head. Oh, how wrong he was. 

Now, Penguin lays on the ground holding his arm. You’re sure it's broken. 

“Get up, Penguin!” You yell. “Thought this was gonna be easy! We’re in the New World!”

He whines, rolling on the dirt. “Shut up!”

An explosion rocks the submarine, and you teeter, making a sound of surprise. Your feet slide on the salty deck, waves from the impact crashing over the left side. Another cannonball lands not 20 feet away, and you start to panic. “Guys!” 

Law gave you strict orders to not use your power—ever the responsible doctor. But with how things are going, you’ll be breaking his rules. 

“Fire!” The voice is muffled by the waves, but you hear it. 

“Sew.”

Threads weave together before you until they form a giant sheet, into which the airborne cannonball falls. Using one of Luffy’s offensive techniques, you fling the bomb back toward the ship it came from. Cries and screams echo before it turns the deck to splinters. 

“Hey!” Law calls, his voice gruff. “I thought I told you not to use that.”

You turn to see him on the ground beneath the sub. “Sorry, my life was in danger.” 

“You’re never in danger,” Law quips. “Not with me around. Now, go inside.”

“Inside?” Your heart skips a beat. Not with me around.  

“You’re less likely to use your power,” He dodges an attack, his katana in his hands as he swipes at them. “Please, go.” 

Sighing, you follow his orders—but only because he said please. 

It’s not long before the rest of the crew piles inside. But you see Law holding something white and mangled instead of his proud smirk. You tug your eyebrows together and draw closer to him. 

“What’s that?” You ask warily, having a feeling you know. Considering his head is bare, his black tendrils standing on end, your heart drops. “Oh, Law.”

He sniffs. “Nothing to worry about. Just a hat.” 

You know he’s lying, but nod anyway and leave him. 

Bepo’s solemn face haunts you. He follows you around, not knowing what to do when his captain is heartbroken. 

“How’s your jaw?” You ask, remembering the punch. 

“Oh, I'm fine. Nothing I can’t handle.” 

You look over at Ikkaku, who still holds a grudge against you, but her gaze is softer than usual this time. 

You give her a smile—an olive branch, despite not doing anything to offend her other than being on the submarine, and bearing the values of your crew. She gives you one back, and you take it as an appreciation for using your power to save the Polar Tang from the cannonballs. Uni and Clione sit beside her with the same reluctant gratitude. You take it as a win. 

The more you think about it, the more the whole ship seems on edge. The crew’s footsteps are light, and the common area is not nearly as rowdy as usual. One wrong move and Law will crack. 

So, you take it upon yourself to be the first one to disturb him in his office. He’s been locked in there for hours, and since your bedroom is directly opposite, it only makes sense—at least that’s what you're telling yourself. 

You rap your knuckles on the door three times, slowly opening it after. “Law.”

The room is dark, and you hold your tongue when a joke surfaces in your mind. 

“I don’t want to talk right now.”

You step further in. “Are you okay?”

Law makes no sound. 

“If this is about your hat—”

“Leave me alone.” His voice is so broken that it hurts your chest. 

“I could fix it.”

He says your name softly. “Please, leave.” 

You swallow and nod once. “Of course… sorry for bothering you.” 

On your way out, you spot the cause of his distress sitting on the table. You clench your fists to resist the urge to take it, but the voice in your mind wins, and you snatch it. 

You rush from the room, and if Law sees you, he says nothing. 

When you get to your room, you lock the door behind you. The fur hat in your hands is covered in dirt and specks of blood, and it's utterly ruined. You curse at the state of it. 

You lay the pieces on your bed, figuring out how to piece them back together. It takes a few tries, but once you’ve got a design that works, you put your hand over the material. 

Immediately, the sections come together, forming a brim at the front instead of around the bottom like the original hat. It’s different, but you work with what you’ve got. 

You hold it in your hands once it’s formed and smile. Deep in your stomach, there’s an inkling of doubt that Law won’t accept it, but you hope he can appreciate the effort. 

—

You keep the hat to yourself for the night, not wanting to impose Law anymore. When the first sounds of the crew rising from their slumber wakes you, you’re quick to dash to the infirmary. Law’s in here every morning, and when you open the door, you’re not shocked to see him. What is jarring is the lack of his signature hat in the room—the one you’ve got under your arm. 

“Morning,” You greet, hiding the garment from his view. Law grunts, not bothering to look up from the paper he scribbles on. “I’ve got something for you.”

“If it’s one of Shachi’s new breakfast foods, I don’t want it.” 

You roll your eyes. “I’d never subject you to that.”

Law exhales a laugh. 

“This is far more important than that, anyway,” You walk up behind him. “Turn around.” 

He shakes his head. “I’ve got a lot of work to do, sweetheart. Can it wait?”

“Nope,” Smiling, you put your hand on his shoulder. Law sighs and glances at you. 

The look on his face is one you’ll never forget. 

“Wha–”

You suppress a giggle and shove the hat in his face. “I fixed it for you.” 

Law turns, his eyes wide. He takes the hat from your hands, the soft material delicate in his grip. He’s speechless. 

“I took it from your office last night, and I know I shouldn’t have, but you were so upset.” 

He shakes his head in disbelief. 

This lack of speech makes you nervous. “I know it’s not the same as it was before. There was no way I could salvage enough of it to do that, so now you have a brim. I think it looks cute, but—”

“Shut up.” 

You come up short, immediately closing your mouth. The infirmary falls silent, with you no longer rambling and Law standing there in shock, hearts in his eyes. 

“Law—”

“Thank you.”

His words have an underlying connotation; you just know it, and how he looks at you confirms it. 

You make a sound of surprise, your body freezing. You swear he can hear your heartbeat from how loud it is in your ears. “What?”

His gaze of adoration quickly fades when he sees your shock. He drops the hat on the trolley and turns back to his desk. “Are you hungry? I’m sure breakfast is ready.” 

You don’t know what he’s saying. You’re not listening. I love you, I love you. 

The tension between you is suffocating, weighing heavily on your chest. “Law.”

He lets out an awkward laugh, unsure what to say. 

“Look at me, Law.”

“I can’t,” He whispers. 

You tilt your head. “Why?”

“Because you don’t need to see me like this.”

“Like what?” Your tone grows hard. “Like you have feelings?”

He glares you. 

“You have a heart, Law. I see it every day,” You say. “So don’t pretend like you’re some cold, heartless man because you’re not.” 

When he doesn’t answer, you go on. “Do you need proof? I used to think you only picked me up in Sabaody because I was useful to you—”

“—you were—”

“—you wanted to help me, and you did. Because you’re kind, Law. You want to help people; otherwise, you wouldn’t try to kill the four emperors.” 

“And if I said it was purely selfish?” 

“I’d say you’re lying. Because despite this revenge plan you have for Doflamingo, you don’t want him hurting anyone else. You care for people.”

“Of course, I care for people,” Law snaps. “I wouldn’t be a doctor if I didn’t want to help others.” 

You shrug. “Need I say anymore?” 

“I’ve work to do.” Law murmurs, his eyes downcast and tongue in his cheek. 

You know when you’re being dismissed, so you hum and turn to leave, but not without noticing the tight grip he has on the fur hat. 

— Scene 8 —

Hijacking a ship is out of your expertise, especially a smuggling vessel. 

When you and Bepo spot the ship in the distance from the deck of the Polar Tang, its lights bright in the darkness, you immediately notify Law. 

“Are you sure it's the one?”

“Yes,” You groan. “Who else is out this far? Besides, there are no other ships around.”

Then, Hakugan directs the submarine toward the ship. 

Law shambles you and Bepo onto the vessel, where the pair of you are to distract someone and take control. It takes a while for you to remember what Law said as you and Bepo wander the ship. Somehow, you find yourself in the same place you started. The deck is empty, though there are lights on inside. 

“Where and to whom are we meant to do this again?”

Bepo shrugs. “I was too scared to listen.”

“Oh my g—”

“This way, Sir.”

You jump behind a pillar, pulling Bepo with you, though you doubt he's hidden. 

Behind you, several more footsteps approach, but this time, it's Shachi and Penguin with Uni, Clione, and Hakugan. 

“Captain and Hakugan have seized the control room,” Penguin says. “No thanks to you two.”

You gape. “Not my fault his instructions were shit.”

“This way, we have to protect Captain.” 

This way. You look back in the direction of the man who passed you before. Why would you call someone Sir on a smuggling vessel?

You keep your mouth shut for the moment, following Penguin to the control room. When you get there, there’s an unconscious man on the floor, and when you look at Law, he’s pressing buttons, ignoring the looks from Hakugan, who steers the ship. 

“Are we on course?”

Law side-eyes you as Hakugan answers. “Yes.” 

“I, uh,” You start, averting your eyes. “Had a question.”

“Out with it,” Law mumbles. 

The pirates around you listen in, curious. 

“Are there meant to be this many people on a smuggling vessel? Especially noble-like people?” 

Law’s head spins around, his eyes dark. “What?”

“This guy was leading another guy somewhere, and he called him Sir,” You bite your lip. “I was just wondering if that’s normal for a —”

“Fuck,” Law curses loudly. “You imbeciles, this is a passenger ship.” 

Bepo gasps, looking faint. “Oh, we really messed up.” 

Your jaw falls open, and Bepo grabs you, wrapping his arms around you. “Take me to your dreamland. I can’t be here.” 

“Where did you see these people?” 

“Umm, back down on the main deck.”

Law grits his teeth. “You said this was the ship.”

“To be fair, it’s dark, and this ship was far���”

He pushes past you and out the door. The control room is quiet, save for Bepo’s whimpers. The familiar zip of shambles sounds outside before Law reenters. 

“We’re heading for Hachinosu already.” 

“That’s good, right?” 

“Yes, Bepo,” Law mumbles, leaning over the control panel. “We’ll be there much earlier than expected.” 

“Why don’t you sound happy about that?” You are hesitant to ask. 

“Because,” He turns to look at you directly. “The king and nobles of Hachinosu are on this ship.” 

Bepo almost drops to the ground, Penguin shoving himself under the mink’s arm. “You’re kidding me.” 

“We’ll have to lay low,” Law addresses his crew. “Draw no attention to yourself, and don’t tell anyone who you are. Understood?” 

Yes, captain. 

Law rubs his forehead, mumbling curse words to himself. 

He says your name. “I know this is a big favour to ask, but is there any way you could create casual clothes for the crew? I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t absolutely necessary, but knowing this crew…”

“How long until we reach the island?” 

“One day.” 

You purse your lips. “Give me two hours.”

—

Two hours is enough time for you but too much for the rest of the crew. As you finish the last garment, Penguin’s pants, there’s a sudden scream from below the main deck. 

Law inhales sharply, his jaw set. “If that’s—”

“Shachi, this is your fault,” You hear Penguin through the door of the control room. You glance at Law, whose eyes narrow. “Fuck, run.”  

Hakugan, Uni, and Clione burst through the door, Penguin, Jean-Bart, and Shachi close behind them. Law holds his tongue, anger simmering in his gaze. 

The door slams shut, and the rumbling of voices outside increases. 

“Don’t tell me you did what I told you not to do.”

Shachi grimaces. “We didn’t do it on purpose, Captain…”

“Morons, the lot of you,” Law snaps. “If the King of Hachinosu knows we’re here, he knows why we’re here, and he won’t stop until all of us are dead, got it?” 

Penguin gulps. “What do we do?” 

“Pirates!” 

Law groans with frustration. “Room and Shambles.” 

You hit the deck, literally. You’re outside, and the chaos of the passengers is on the other side of the ship. Bepo moans in pain beside you, and Law stands in the middle of his crew. 

“Stay here, and don’t make a sound.” He flicks his fingers again, and then he’s gone. 

Penguin sighs, rubbing his head. “He made that hurt on purpose.” 

Shachi hums in agreement, and you roll your eyes. 

“Maybe if you two weren’t so loud, we wouldn’t be in this mess,” Bepo mumbles, glaring at his best friends.

“Says you! We can’t go a day without hearing you whine,” Shachi quips.

Bepo makes a sound of indignation. “That really hurts me, you know that?” 

“Yeah, well—”

“Stop,” You whisper, noticing a presence nearby. The crew freezes, and Bepo turns to you, terror morphing his features. 

“Sew.” 

“Argh!”

You push yourself up, walking directly to where your threads caught someone. A man in his late 30s resists Sew's hold on him. 

“You dirty pirate! Get this off me!”

You stare at him. He’s dressed fairly well, with a white suit and gold accents. A noble. 

“Hey! I see you! Get away from me!” 

Pursing your lips, you decide what to do. In his hand, obscured by the long train of his jacket tail, is a handgun. 

“Hey—” You throw your hand up, wrapping threads around his mouth in case he draws attention. 

He screams against the cotton, his finger squeezing the trigger of his gun. You duck, and the bullet flies off the metal railing. Still, you remain silent. 

You hear Bepo call your name and wince. Now, this guy knows who you are. 

The man’s eyes widen, and he starts tugging his arms, his gun tumbling to the deck in his struggle. He cries out when he sees it close to your feet. 

You tilt your head, considering him and your plan of action. He did just try to shoot you. 

He knows your name, who you are, and what you’re doing on the ship (if he knows about the Poneglyph on Hachinosu). 

You toss up your options. On one hand, he is a civilian. On the other, he knows that it were you on the ship tonight, subduing him. Who knows what the newspaper will write about you if that gets out. You hurt innocent civilians? 

Nothing about this man is innocent, that’s a fact, but standing here, staring at him, you don’t know what to do. 

It isn’t until you hear Law ask where you are back with the crew that you release a breath. Law comes over, his eyebrows tugged together. 

“What’s up with this guy?” 

“I don’t know what to do with him.” 

The man cries, tears running down his cheeks and over the threads covering his mouth. Law frowns. 

“Why don’t I just take his heart and be done with it? He’s a pirate himself.” 

You give the man a once over, still processing what just happened. “He shot at me.” 

Law eyes go cold as he cocks his head, regarding the noble with indifference. “This will only hurt a little.” 

You watch as he uses Scalpel, the man’s heart sliding from his chest. He passes out. 

Law turns back to you, shoving the heart into his coat. “You okay?” 

“I’m fine,” You nod. “Just didn’t know what to do.” 

“That’s okay. You did good nonetheless.” And then he wraps his fingers around your hand to whisk you away. 

“Wait,” You exhale, looking back at the man’s unconscious body. “There.” 

A piece of paper sticks out of his pants pocket. It’s small, only half the size of a normal map, but you rush over to it. Unfolding it, you recognise the style. 

“Law.”

As he approaches, his boots click on the deck, peering over your shoulder. “What is that?”

“A map,” You whisper, turning it around to get a better angle of the island it represents. “If this is Hachinosu…” 

“It could be where the Poneglyph is,” Law mumbles, pointing to the skull in the middle of the paper. “But why would a noble have access to this?” 

You shrug. “Maybe it’s a part of their plan. I mean, he did come out here alone…” 

Law hums with consideration, his gaze flickering to yours. There’s a glimmer of something behind his usual icy front, and you’re lucky you’re close enough to see it.

“You’re right. We’ll take it anyway, but be careful tomorrow. Who knows what they’ve got planned for when we arrive.” 

— Scene 9 —

The crick in your back flares, as you hurry off the ship—sleeping upright in the control room is taking its toll on you. After Law took the noble’s heart, you and the crew were sent to the control room to sleep. Law said he took care of the remainder of the passengers… whatever that meant. 

Law isn’t far behind you, but the rest of the crew is already on the island, fighting off pirates. 

Now, you’re to find the site of the rumoured Poneglyph in the middle of the island. You take a different route to everyone else in case anyone is seized. With the map from the noble clutched in your fist, you run. 

“Go left! I’ll take the right.”

Nodding, you veer toward the large building on the port, hand out to summon threads to restrain the men running at you. Their swords slash at the strings, but you’re gone before they free themselves. 

An explosion makes you stumble as you enter a warehouse, men with guns pointed at you the moment you step inside. “Seam.”

The eyes of the gunmen immediately go dazed, and they lower their guns involuntarily—you can feel the addition of them to your mindscape. Fifteen. You gasp at the fact that it actually works. 

Seam has evolved. You’ve only used it once, summoned the ability without physically touching someone, and it was shoddy at best. What you did now was a shot in the dark. There’s no way you knew it would work. 

But you don’t dwell on it when you run through the building and out the other side into an alleyway. Someone screams at the sight of you before gunshots ring through the street. 

You duck, taking a sharp right into another warehouse, this one empty. The outside sounds: bombs ticking and exploding, cannonballs, yells and cries, and swords on swords are muffled inside here. You tiptoe through, checking behind doors and peering around corners before advancing. 

There’s no missing the giant pirate skull in the island's centre, your target when you emerge. The map in your hand becomes useless when you notice the behemoth landmark. Who needs a map when you can see the thing everywhere in the city? 

Stepping out of the warehouse, the area before you is full of Heart Pirates on resident pirates, fighting mercilessly with swords, fists, and guns. Swallowing your nervous pants, you aim a thread around a pirate sneaking up behind Clione, who’s already engaged in a fight. The man gags as you pull him backward, your face becoming a scowl when you look at him. 

“Going for a man’s back is cowardly,” You say, ignoring how the man spits at you. 

“You stupid bitch, get off me.” 

Clenching your jaw, you throw him against the wall and string him up. His knife clatters to the cobblestones, and you leave him there—Law’s crew is important to him, like hell you’re going to let someone hurt them. 

You turn, dodging a fist flying at your face. Making a sound of surprise, you sweep your leg out, catching the man off guard. He goes down, groaning in pain. 

“Marines!”

You feel your heart drop into your stomach. Whipping around, you don’t see the familiar white and blue uniform, and you’re not going to. You run away from the port, many resident pirates scattering into the side streets and yelling the same warning. 

Why are the Marines here? And how’d they get here so quickly?

You hear your name being called, the sound echoing. Bepo stands there, his arms full of beige woven bags—the stolen hearts. Your eyes widen at the number he carries already. 

“Go right! There’s a road that leads straight there.”

Smiling, you thank Bepo and follow his directions. Your eyebrows tug together when you recall the hearts. There had to be at least thirty, and who knows how many trips Bepo has already made to the passenger vessel. 

Shaking your head, you direct your brain to your target—the Poneglyph. You can’t read them; only one person can, and you miss her like crazy. She’d be able to understand it and relay the knowledge to you because there’s no way she’d tell Law about it at this point in time. 

You wish Robin could hear you now, wherever she is. 

Your path to the middle is easy after transporting twenty-eight more pirate souls into Seam. You manage to dodge all but one nasty punch to the cheek but get shot in the shoulder after purposefully instigating a pirate (not your best idea, but he was insulting the very existence of Luffy, something you’d never stand for). 

You know Law will give you an earful when he sees you next. 

The lead bullet is lodged in your muscle, and the bleeding is staunched thanks to the ripped hem of your t-shirt. You could have made a bandage using Sew, but your Devil Fruit powers dwindle with every passing second—if a pirate were to attack you now, you couldn’t fight them off.

The dizziness and ringing in your ears are almost unbearable, though you’re unsure if the ringing is from the punch or the way you hit your head when you fell from the impact of the bullet—you’re positive Law won’t care where it came from, just the fact that both of those things happened to you. 

You blink away the stars in your vision and cough. The wound is itchy, and you resist the urge to dig your fingers into the hole and rip the bullet out yourself. The injury, paired with the pirate souls in Seam, is taking a toll on you. 

“Fuck,” You pant, pausing to lean against a palm tree. Peering down at your shoulder, you almost faint at the amount of blood that has soaked through your makeshift bandage. When you inhale, your head gets lighter, so you choose to keep your breaths short. 

You can feel your head drooping, but push off the tree to continue. Gone are the cobblestones, and in their place is dirt. Pressing your palm on your wound, you wince and think against doing it again. You remember Law telling you to put pressure on injuries like this, but you don’t think you can—you’re going to pass out from the pain. 

Blood drips onto the sandy dirt beneath your feet, and the scorching sun strengthens the metallic scent. Your skin burns under the same heat, and you fear you won’t make it to the Poneglyph at this rate. 

Up ahead, you hear the clang of swords. You whine, knowing that you won’t be able to fight someone with a weapon in this condition. So, you hurry down a barren alleyway, the cool air of the shadows allowing you some relief. You stumble but catch yourself on the wall. 

Sure, you’ve had bullet wounds in the past, namely in Alabasta, but it felt nothing like this. With a few deep breaths, you feel no different. If only Chopper were here, with his panicked assessments and swift procedures, you would be scolded but fixed up quickly. Usopp’s chaotic, anxiety-ridden laughter echoes in your ears, and you shake your head to rid your mind of memories. 

Another person’s presence, one not far away, weighs heavily on you. 

“Law…” There’s no use calling for him. He’s on the other side of the island. You know this, yet do it again. You wish you had the baby transponder snail he gave you on that island, the one with the fur hat like Law’s. An involuntary giggle escapes your lips. 

You can die without telling him— The souls in Seam wage war inside your mind, and all the yelling and screaming causes a sharp pain to throb behind your eye. “Shut up.” 

Going into your mindscape now would be foolish. You’d waste your available energy and pass out right here without fulfilling Law’s request—check the giant skull for the Poneglyph. It would kill you to disappoint him. 

You stagger out of the street; the sound of metal clanging and scraping is gone. Panting, you walk up the main road, the denser trees making it difficult to locate the entrance of the skull. 

With bloody hands, you push back stray hairs that stick to your forehead with sweat. The world around you gets fuzzy, but Law’s averted eyes and fake smile force you to go on. You knew the plan going into this, and if you were to disappoint him—you’ve already thought about this. 

You rub your eyes with your knuckles, squeezing your cheeks after to feel something in your face. When did your face start getting numb?

Faces pop into your head: Luffy, Zoro, Usopp, Sanji, Nami, Chopper, Robin, Franky, Brook… and you cry at the thought that you could leave them wondering what happened to you. Your stomach churns at the mere inkling that, at a time like this, a time when death rears his ugly head inside you, you have failed your family. You failed to stay alive. 

“I’m sorry,” You slur, your face sticky with tears and blood. “I love you.”

An explosion rattles the ground, and your mind is back on the situation. Your tongue moves around your mouth hopelessly, trying to form the one name you need, the one that will help you without a second thought, the one you—

Slurring Law’s name, you no longer feel your feet beneath you, but instead the ground on your cheek. You didn’t feel the impact. Dirt clumps with sticky blood, and you feel your body relax. It’s nice to finally lie down. 

You’ll wait here for Law. He’ll come and find you. He has to. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, but you wear a smile. Law, Law, Law. 

— Scene 10 —

You wake, though you don’t open your eyes. 

Law knows you’re awake, and you know he knows this, yet neither of you says a word. 

There’s no pain in your shoulder when you shift, finding yourself on your back, and you could cry at the mere thought that he found you. 

It isn’t until a tear drips from the corner of your eye into your ear that Law speaks up. 

“What the fuck were you thinking?” His voice is soft, but you sense the malice in this timbre. 

One drips into your other ear. It’s a steady stream of salty water that soon turns into sobs, ones that rack your shoulders and burn your chest. A sensation you haven’t felt since you found Luffy in the forest on Amazon Lily. 

“I’m sorry,” You whisper, your voice breaking. Law makes no sound. “I’m sorry.”

“You have no sense of self-preservation.” 

He’s mad. 

“Do you have any idea what would’ve happened if I hadn’t found you? If I hadn’t returned to the ship and realised you were taking much longer than planned? Fuck, you were minutes away from death.”

You sniffle, hiccuping. “I’m sorry.”

Law sighs hashly. “I know you are. Stop saying it.” 

Opening your eyes, you’re met with the ceiling. The same ceiling you woke up to on your first time here, and the one that keeps seeing you fall apart. 

“Law…” You peer over at him, your tears increasing when you see him sitting so close to the bed. You’re so happy to see him. “I was so scared.” 

You can hear him swallow from where you lay, his jaw set and gaze averted. You smile when you see his expression—you called it. 

“I knew you’d look like this.” The laugh you let out is rough, your throat raw. “You were the last thing I thought of.”

Law shakes his head and stands, giving you his back. “Don’t say shit like that.”

“I kept thinking about how disappointed you’d be that I didn’t get to the skull, that I didn’t find the Poneglyph—”

“I don’t care about the Poneglyph!” He spins around so quickly you barely see it. “I care about you!” 

Your bottom lip quivers and more tears roll down your cheeks. You wait for him to continue, too shocked to speak. 

“Do you know how close I was to losing it when I had to take that bullet out of you?” He yells. “When I found out it was poisoned? When I had to extract the poison from your body?” 

“I didn’t know it was poisoned.”

“Of course you didn't,” He laughs bitterly. “You were too busy dying to know.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek. “I’m sorry.” 

“You’ve been in that bed, unconscious for eight days,” Law says your name with such pain that when your eyes focus on his face again, you see his glassy eyes. “You had ninety-four souls in Seam. How did you do that?”

Ninety-four… 

“What?” You ask before realising what he’s saying, not even comprehending the fact you were unconscious for eight days. “How can you see inside Seam?”

“That’s not important—”

“It is! Tell me.”

Law sighs. “I can move incorporeal things, like souls; it’s how I switch people between bodies,” He explains. You store that little morsel of information for later, but now, you’re more fascinated with the fact that he can see your mindscape. “You had a lot of souls inside you. I can’t see into Seam, just the presence of these souls. But are you crazy? Ninety-four? That wouldn’t have helped with your injury. I’m surprised you didn’t pass out before you got shot.”

Law’s rambling and you fear he may start to spiral if he hasn’t already. 

You let out a weak sound. “Law…”

“Fuck,” He curses. “I’ve never prayed to a god until I saw you on the ground, bleeding out. You terrified me.” 

You’re going to be sick. You forget about Seam and try to push yourself up but quickly collapse when you lean on the wrong arm because what does he mean by that?

He’s at war with himself as runs his hands through his hair. “Why would you not come back to the ship when you got shot?” 

“Because I had to get to the Poneglyph for you.” 

Law scoffs, though the sound is not nearly as daunting as it normally is; instead, it’s sad. “Don’t you dare put your life in danger for me.” 

It’s your turn to scoff, and you finally get the strength to sit up. “Don’t tell me what to do.” 

“When it’s for my sake, then yes, I can. I’m not worth your pain or your death.” 

You swing your legs out of the bed, standing on shaky knees. 

Law’s eyes widen slightly. “Lay back down; you’re going to fall.”

“No,” You say, pointing your finger into his chest. “Don’t tell me what to do. Listen to me.” 

Law purses his lips, his eyes flickering down to where you jab him with your index finger. 

“You’re my crew, okay?” You know it sounds pathetic, but Law makes no move to ridicule you. “And I’d do anything for the people I love, even if that requires me to put my life in danger. So don’t stand there and tell me you’re not worth it when you mean more to me than you can imagine.” 

“That’s foolish,” Law whispers. Your thumping heart stops, and when you look up at him, a single tear runs down his cheek. You reach up to wipe it away, your thumb soft on his skin. You keep your hand on his cheek. 

“I’d do it a hundred times if it would help you reach your goal.”

Law swallows thickly. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I hadn’t found you one time, let alone a hundred times.” 

“You would’ve gone on with your crew and defeated all four Emperors and Doflamingo. I’m just someone you picked up on a whim.”

You know it’s a lie. 

Law chokes on a laugh, though there’s no humour. 

“You know that’s not true,” He spits. “I can’t do this without you knowing I know what it feels like with you. I hope you know that.” 

“Law…”

“I care for you,” Law mumbles, his tone harsh while he presses your palm to his cheek. “I can’t lose you, too, which is why you can’t keep putting yourself in these positions.”

There’s far more to this than you know, and it breaks your heart to find out he’s been through this before. 

“You’ve made this hell worth it. Everything I’ve done until now has brought me to you, and I’ll be damned if I let you hurt yourself to keep me happy, okay?”

You curse yourself when you start crying again. You can’t pinpoint when the ringing in your ears started, but it makes the world tilt. Laughter spills out of you unwillingly.

Law scowls, his vulnerable expression turning cold. He’s about to push you away. “I’m not talking to you if you’re going to mock me. I know I’m a heartless bastard, but I’m not joking.” 

You pull him back to you with your good arm. “Why would I mock you? Come here, you idiot.”

He stares at you a little longer, his hand resting on your cheek. Law’s gorgeous; you’ve known this since you first laid eyes on him. But seeing him so vulnerable flips a switch inside you. It’s gentle, the kiss you press to his cheek, and it’s pink, the blush high on his cheekbones. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” You say. “I’ll remain with you until you want me gone.”

“I’ll never want you gone,” He whispers, and your heart breaks. You smile, tears rolling into your mouth.

“Kiss me,” You say, reaching for him. Law meets you halfway, his other hand on your cheek as he brings his lips to yours. 

The first peck is cautious, and Law runs his tongue along his bottom lip while you wrap your hands around his neck, pulling his chest flush against yours. Your shoulder is numb, and it’s probably for the best that Law forgets about your injury when, with red cheeks and a hell of a lot more confidence, he kisses you again. 

“You know what this means?” Law whispers against your mouth, your salty tears mixing together. 

You exhale through your nose, your fingers playing with the hair on the nape of his neck before they slide higher, your hands gripping larger chunks. “What?”

He leans in for another kiss, this one lasting longer than the previous, and when you pull away, he chases after you. Law looks at you, his eyes smiling and half-lidded with desire. 

He brings you closer to him, his fingers brushing stray hairs away from your face. You giggle, pressing your lips to his cheeks and chin as he admires you. 

“It means,” Another peck. “That you’re my crew, too.”

“Shut up.” You exhale a laugh and shake your head.

Your lips glide over his, and both of your lips slightly chapped. You smile with giddiness, your teeth lightly knocking Law’s. 

“Quit smiling so much,” He mumbles, kissing the corner of your mouth. 

You don’t apologise. “I’m so happy.” 

Law drops his head to lean his forehead against yours. “Yeah, me too.” 

“I’m sorry about what I did,” You say, pushing the hair on his forehead back. He shakes his head. “I’m sorry for making you worry.” 

“I’ll always worry about you,” Law presses his mouth to your forehead before moving his hands down to the sides of your neck. “No use telling me not to.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying sorry.”

You catch yourself before you do it again. 

Law wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. You close your eyes, tightening your hold. His heart pounds underneath your ear, and he trembles softly. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

Taglist:

@fandomhoe101 / @valen-yamyam16 / @chibinasuu / @xsuvs / @curiositycoven64 / @chillerkiller / @loserbee14 / @theloserqueen / @meritxellao / @mirtiell / @dreamistsblog

I think this is everyone! If I missed you, and/or you want to be notified when Act III is posted, please comment below or send me an ask!!

[nosyrobin]

What if the superson trio swapped bodys like superman, batman and stargirl did in justice league action?

“Swapped bodies”

Summary: swapping bodies was the worst thing ever to happen to the future trinity of heroes.

Pair: Superson trio

“Ugh! Catch him Robin!” Wonderboy yells, flying with superboy who trying to reach Mr Mxyzptlk who keeps swerving in the air. Robin clicks his tongue in distaste at the impatient Amazon. “What do you think I’m doing you brute.” Robin sasses as he keeps his eyes on the imp. He was on a roof, readying his grapple before Y/N spotted him. Y/N picked Robin up who “tt” at the male. Mr Mxyzptlk sticks his tongue out at the ten year olds. Superboy frowns, “Hey. That’s not nice dude.” Mr Mxyzptlk smirks. “If you think that’s not nice, then get a load of this!”

The imp randomly has a bender in front of the children, the flying boys stop. You still held Robin in your arms who was ready to aim his grapple right there. But sadly the imp had already put his action into phase as the souls of you and the supersons got sucked in the blender. Mr Mxyzptlk laughed his head off, seeing the ten year old boys scream and get their souls swapped. As the imp poofs away, laughing. The souls enter their not rightful place.

Y/N opened his eyes to see he was still flying, but turned his head to see that his body was holding Damian. Or was it Damian? “What the?!” Jon yells looking at the Amazon male. They had swapped bodies. And Damian doesn’t know how to fly, making him fall with a yell with Jon still in his arms. “Damnit!” Y/N yells, he immediately swooped down and held the two boys by their waist. “I hate this.” “Me too Prince.”

At the bat cave, Y/N were in Jon’s body, Jon was in Damian’s body, and Damian was in his body. Y/N immediately grabbed onto his body. Shaking the boy, “get out of my body Damian!” Y/N yelled. He was angry, confused, and annoyed. His eyes turned red, indicating heat vision that’s about to burst. Damian quickly pushed your head aside, the laser shooting off and damaging something. Jon awkwardly stood there, he felt happy he couldn’t hear things far away or even see through things accidentally. But still, he couldn’t do anything at the moment as the two super strong boys argue.

“If you were a little bit more patient, we would’ve succeeded in this mission!” Damian yells in Y/N’s body. Y/N gritted his teeth, pushing Damian from him. “Right, but you took your sweet time didn’t you Damian!” Y/N yells. Damian flew across the cave, before immediately tackling Y/N. Jon’s eyes widen, he tried to move towards the two angry boys. But with how they both were pulling hair and using their excessive strength. Jon said “nope, fuck this” and went to find the adults.

As y/n and Damian were tumbling around and wrestling. Jon came back with Batman and Superman. “Holy!—” Clark immediately tears the boys apart from each other. Y/N was still feral along with Damian. Trying to claw at each other. “Boys!” Superman yells out. The two stopped, looking at the kryptonian. “What is going on?” Jon, aka who’s in Damian’s body start to explain the situation that had happened.

“We sneaked out to do our own mission for this patrol but we caught this weird little goblin looking dude, can I say he was rude because he stuck his tongue at me and—”

“JON! Get on with it man!” Y/N yelled out impatiently.

“Oh right! Okay but like then he popped this blender out and switched our souls so now I’m in Damian’s body, damian’s is in Y/N’s body and Y/N is in mine and they started to fight so I got you guys here to se if yall can fix this.” Jon says, finishing in one blow. Clark and Bruce looked at each other and sigh.

What will they do with these three.

Time passed with the trio as Bruce went to contact someone. Firestorm soon walked in, smiling as he held Mr Mxyzptlk like a stray cat. The imp was nervously chuckling. “Ah Pooh, guess my fun is over.” Batman leaned his face at the imp. “Fix them.” Batman points to Jon who stands there with Superman holding two angry boys. Glaring at the imp, eyes filled with rage and distaste. Firestorm smirked, “or else professor would like a little talk with you.” Mr Mxyzptlk shudders again the thought of the professor in his head. “Fine! Here kids.”

“Kltpzyxm” the imp poofs away, not wanting to deal with the professor like last time. The souls of the boys went back to place. Jon smiled seeing his hands, Damian scoffed meanwhile Y/N rolled his eyes but smiled. “Awesome, we’re back to our bodies. You can put me down man.” Clark frowned. “Can’t do that sport.” The boys raised a brow as Jon looked at his father. Batman walked up to the trio. “You snuck out to do your own mission. You failed and got yourself in trouble. You are all grounded,” Brufe then points to the Amazon boy. “And I’ll be contacting your mother Y/N.” Y/N’s eyes widened, Jon frowns. And Damian scoffs.

“AH WHAT?!”

[jiniretracha]

ꕤ 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 '𝟐𝟒 - 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟔 ꕤ

Hwang Hyunjin x fem!reader: bondage kink

summary: You decided to snoop around your boyfriend's Amazon wishlist, trying to find the perfect gift for your first month anniversary. You couldn't believe what he had saved.

warnings: smut, shibari use, bondage (duh), hyunjin being a cutie and hot at the same time

word count: 2.1k

kinktober masterlist // masterlist // ko-fi

You and Hyunjin were only one week away from your first month anniversary and you were very excited and nervous at the same time. 

It had been your dream when Hyunjin finally got the courage to ask you out on a date. You had felt on top of the world, feeling like it was a freaking dream. He took you to a nice fancy restaurant, complimented you the entire night and then took you out on two more before finally asking you to be his girlfriend. 

It was recent, very new, and you still didn’t know him a hundred percent, so you weren’t really sure what to get him. 

A first month anniversary was a huge deal for you, and you didn’t want to disappoint him in the slightest. You knew he had a lot of money, so he could really buy anything he wanted. 

You thought you could buy him a camera, but literally the day you searched for the one you knew he wanted, he purchased it himself. You also thought about taking him out on a date yourself, but you knew he wouldn’t let you pay, and you honestly thought the idea was pretty lame and basic. He did that for you every single week, it wasn't that special. 

An idea popped into your head.

Maybe you could sneak into his computer and lurk around his amazon wish list or something. You knew every inch of his house and belongings, so you could easily know what he owned or not.

You grabbed his computer and sat on the bed with an excited sigh. 

You put the password and quickly opened google, typing amazon. Thankfully, the page immediately opened in his logged account, so you clicked on the wishlist button and carefully started looking for future gifts. 

A Fender Stratocaster electric guitar… no, that’s way too expensive. You were not even half as wealthy as he was, and besides, he had two guitars already. He didn’t need a third one. 

A painting brush set… it could be. Hyunjin really needed new brushes, so you wrote them down as possible options for gifts. 

A vinyl record from the band he had recently started listening to… you got that for him for his birthday when you weren’t together yet, it wasn’t that special either. You had to be original. 

Shibari ropes… wait.

Hold up.

Shibari ropes?

In his wishlist?

Was this something he was willing to try? 

You bit your lip at the thought of trying that with Hyunjin. You couldn’t stop thinking about him tying you up and letting him use you the way he wanted. You wouldn’t have ever thought that your boyfriend was into that kinky shit, but here you are. 

You sent the link of the shibari ropes he had put on favorites via airdrop and quickly closed the window, deleting the history search just in case he saw it and discovered your gift. 

The ropes were a tiny bit expensive, but you knew they were totally gonna be worth it. 

The week of the anniversary rolled faster than you thought and you were getting anxious by the minute. You started having second thoughts. What if he thought you were a fucking weirdo for buying the ropes, or even worse, what if he realised you went into his wishlist and broke up with you because he thought you were-

Okay, relax, you thought to yourself.

After the date he had taken you on, he took you back home and sat you on the bed, ready to give you the gift he had gotten for you.

“I really hope you like this” he said and grabbed a box from the closet that was hidden by his clothes. 

You bit your lip and opened it, taking the box that was inside. 

Once you opened the box, you gasped when you saw the two necklaces, one with your initial, and the other one with Hyunjin’s. 

“I wanted to have your initial around my neck, and my initial around your neck” he smiled. “I hope you don’t think it’s weird, I just thought it-” he started rambling but you cut him short by kissing him deeply.

His breath hitched in surprise, but he was quick to grab your waist and pull your body closer to his.

You pulled away and then, pressed a peck to his lips. “I love it, Hyune” you giggled. “And I love you”

It was the first time saying those three words to him.

His face broke out into the most heart crushing and wonderful smile you have ever seen. “God, I love you” he said and kissed you, making you fall back on the bed with a giggle, tangled in his arms.

When you felt the kiss getting a little way too hot, you pulled away, remembering he gift you had bought.

“I- I uh… I have a gift for you as well” you said and bit your lip, chewing on it.

Hyunjin let out a smirk. “Okay…” he giggled.

You quickly sat up on the bed and walked towards your bags. You grabbed a box and sighed.

This is it.

You handed it to him, and he didn’t miss the look on your face, noticing the way you were nervous about it. 

“It’s okay if you find it… um… weird, and shit” you mumbled as he carefully took the lid of the box out. 

His eyes visibly widened when he saw the bright red ropes laying on the inside of the box. 

“You- Y/N… how…?” he started stammering like a child and you couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“I- okay, I didn’t know what to get you so I went into your wishlist on amazon and I found that you had these there in your favorites. And I- well, I thought you were into it- them” you said, nervously.

Hyunjin took them out and his fingers caressed the rope. “You want me to tie you up with these?” he asked, and you noticed the huskiness in his voice.

He wanted this.

You nodded slowly. “Yeah…”

“Because you discovered I had a thing for it… or because you want me to?” he asked, trying to check if he had full consent from you on this one, or you were just trying to please him. 

You smiled, realising the implying in his words. “Both things, Hyune. Because you have a thing for it, and well, I want to try it as well, you know?” you said, licking your lips. 

“Fuck, get naked. Right the fuck now” he said, standing up from the bed and almost ripping his shirt off from the eagerness he felt. 

Your eyes widened and then you saw the way he was dead serious about it.

You stood up shakily on your legs and slowly took off your dress, letting it slide over your body and pool on your feet. 

You stood in your underwear and his eyebrows arched, a sign that he wanted those two remaining garments off as well. You hooked your pointer finger on the side of your panties and slid them down, kicking them further away and then your hands went behind your back, unclipping your bra and throwing it away. 

Hyunjin grabbed the ropes and held two fingers up, curling them in a come here movement. 

You walked towards him and let him wrap you up in the red ropes, tying them all over your body, till you could no longer move by yourself.

He grabbed you and deposited you on the bed.

His cock got impossibly hard at the state he had you in, all tied up and helpless. Hyunjin had you exactly how he wanted. You squirmed in your place, with a whine, trying to get him to do something.

“Hyunjin…” you whispered, your eyes getting teary already.

He chuckled and placed two hands next to your head. “I haven’t done anything yet, baby, and you’re getting pouty on me already…”

His hands went to his belt, unbuckling it and throwing his jeans away, standing only in a pair of boxers that sit too tight on his hips due to his raging hard on. 

His fingers swept over your core, teeth digging into his lips when he found you wet and ready for him.  

“No… no fingers, I just want your cock, Hyune” you moaned.

And how could he resist, really? When you were begging like that for him, so sweetly. 

He manhandled you so you were on your knees, your face resting on the pillow and your arms were tied behind your back. 

“Do you remember our safe word, jagi?” he asked you.

You nodded into the pillow and he slapped your ass swiftly, making you jolt and yelp.

“Words” he said sternly.

“I do… I do…” you whined.

Hyunjin smirked. “Great” he stated.  

Hyunjin took off his boxers, his erection slapping wetly on his stomach. He grabbed his length, pumping it with his hand a couple of times and then guiding it through your pussy lips. 

You moaned into the pillow once you felt him buried to the hilt, and then his hips started moving torturously slow. 

He heard you whine and start babbling nonsense against the pillow, making him chuckle. “What is it, baby?” he said, continuing his slow pace. “I can’t hear you”

You pushed your cheek into the sheets and let out a cry. “Please go faster, Hyune” you pleaded, tears now rolling down your cheeks. 

He grabbed you by the ropes that were tying your hands, lifting you up to a kneeling position, making your back hit his chest.

“You know how hard it makes me to have you all tied up and helpless while you beg for me to fuck you?” he asked you, lust dripping in his tone. 

You let out a moan when you felt him push his cock deep and fast inside of you, hitting over and over the sweet spot inside of you. 

He could listen to the headboard hitting against the wall with loud thuds, knowing the members were gonna be fucking angry at him for making so much noise, but he really couldn’t give to shits about it. 

Hyunjin continued thrusting his hips and you moaned brokenly every time he hit the delicious spot. His teeth bit at your neck, leaving a few hickeys to adorn your skin. 

“I love you, baby” he whispered. “Fuck, you look so good, such a fucking work of art” he mumbled over your skin, going dumb himself over how well you were taking him. You were so wet and tight, added to the fact that you were making a wet dream of his come true by letting him tie you up, that it made him almost lose control. “Fuck, are you close, honey?”

You nodded, unable to form any coherent words or even thoughts. His hand went over your front, finding your clit and rubbing it. 

You tightened even more around him and he felt your orgasm coat his dick. Once he felt you relax under his hold, meaning you were already spent, he took his cock out from your quivering hold and laid you on the bed, angling your ass up.

He grabbed his cock and started jerking himself off, applying pressure to his base and his thumb rubbing over his tip. 

The orgasm washed over him, making his legs tremble from the intensity of it. His come came out in spurts over your ass cheeks and he let out a broken moan when he finished, his eyes lingering on the artwork he had made over your ass, feeling himself proud and smug at the sight in front of him. 

He let out a tired sigh and grabbed the ends of the ropes, prying them off of your body. 

Hyunjin felt his heart ache when he saw the red lines on your body, from the tightness of them.

“Shit, my love, I’m so sorry” he said, his hand coming to soothe off the redness. 

You basked in his touch and smiled. “It’s okay, I liked it” you said, with a shy giggle.

“Oh I’m fucking sure we both did” Hyunjin said with a chuckle. “Fuck baby, that was so freaking hot” 

You hid your face on the pillow, feeling your cheeks grow hot. 

Hyunjin laughed at your shyness and pet your hair. “I love you” he confessed once again.

“I love you” you replied back and eyes his handsome face. “Shibari, Hyunjin? Really?”

“Stop!” he squealed, making you chuckle. 

── .✦

taglist: @annhearttihaehe // @frequentlykit // @alexisfeliz // @jeonginsleftcheek // @minghaosimp // @lixies-favorite-cookie // @yn-x-them // @chrizrizz // @madkati // @starzystay // @pancake-freckle // @velvetmoonlght // @jisunglyricist

i apologize if i can't tag u :(

[a-suspicious-number-of-ducks]

Hermit-a-Day May, day 18: JoeHills. Today's style/medium is puppet-making! Or mostly sewing with a few other things thrown in. I had a ton of fun with this one, even though it took...so much time to make. I usually explain why I chose a certain medium but this one is...pretty self-explanatory, I think. If you have any Joe clips you want to see a puppet show of, send them my way! Details, materials, and a couple more pictures under the read more.

Materials: this pattern by Abby Glassenberg and all of its required components (minus the eyes), googly safety eyes from Amazon, baby clothes from a local thrift store, and white fabric paint.

I was originally going to try to get doll clothes to dress the Juppet in, since I didn't want to sew the outfit from scratch, but couldn't find any that were quite right. After a couple unfruitful trips into stores, I stopped by a local children's thrift store and poked around their newborn and preemie section until I found an orange onesie and gray jacket/cardigan that were close enough to the right colors. I know the jacket on Joe's skin is probably a hoodie, given the pocket placement, but surprisingly, few people seem to be manufacturing hoodies for newborn babies. Once I got home, I hacked off the bottom of the orange onesie, hemmed it, and painted the at symbol on the back with fabric paint. The front (now back) still says "daddy's mighty guy" with a picture of two dinosaurs on it and that amuses me greatly.

The puppet pattern itself was a little tricky, and there were a couple spots that I think could have used some more explanation, but I made it through. In hindsight, I wish I'd used bigger eyes, but I couldn't find safety eyes (the kind that pokes through the fabric and gets secured with a washer) in a larger size and the style I wanted, and I didn't want to just glue regular googly eyes on because I was worried it wouldn't be sturdy enough (and the edges might look messy). I ended up having to hot glue the felt pieces to the inside of the mouth, even though the pattern recommended normal craft glue for that part, because it would not stick no matter what I did. If I were to make the pattern again, I'd probably try to sew the roof of the mouth and tongue pieces onto the pink felt before attaching it to the head, rather than gluing them on after.

Honestly, there are a lot of things I would do differently if I were to make another puppet, but I'm pretty proud of how this one turned out, especially for my first time doing something like this! I just. have a Juppet in my house now. I don't know how to feel about this. I know this is a pretty complicated piece, so if you have any additional questions, feel free to message me (or send an ask, or reply to this post, or send the message by carrier pigeon--whatever floats your boat).

[deliciousangelfestival]

Let's Play Pretend - 1 | Bucky

Character: Bucky Barnes x singer! Female reader

Summary: You just wanted to hide here and find peace from the mess that wasn’t caused by you. But then, your hot neighbor bothered you. As if that wasn’t enough, the enemies you hated found you too.

PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 ,-

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband on Kindle. 👉 Now available on e-Kindle Amazon! << here's the link.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Shocking Split! Y/N L/N Dumps Fiancé After Drug Party Scandal

Betrayal Drama! Y/N L/N’s Manager Caught Stealing Millions for Gambling

Where’s Y/N? The Singer Vanishes Amid Scandals!

“I’ve always wanted to be a singer, but I never had the confidence to stand on a stage—until my music teacher, Mrs. Walls. She believed in me.”

Mrs. Walls sighed as she watched your Grammy interview on TV. You looked radiant, glowing with excitement after winning such a prestigious award. As a music teacher with years of experience, she had worked with many talented students, but you stood out uniquely.

At first, you were the shyest student in her class, hardly speaking above a whisper. But what surprised her the most was your natural gift: a perfect pitch. You could write down the notes to a song after hearing it just once, and you picked up musical instruments with ease. She vividly remembered showing you basic piano chords; within minutes, you were playing along effortlessly. The same thing happened when she introduced the guitar.

Her fondest memories were of you standing shyly at the front of the class, yet lighting up when it came to music. She smiled as she recalled your speeches at award shows: “I wouldn’t be here without my music teacher, Mrs. Walls. She was the first person who put faith in me.”

“That’s the last interview she gave us,” the gossip channel host said dramatically, feigning concern. “It’s been three months since anyone’s seen her. Where is Y/N L/N?”

Mrs. Walls frowned and turned off the TV with an annoyed grunt. “Urgh. Gossip vultures,” she muttered under her breath. She grabbed a glass of lemonade from the fridge and walked out to her garden. She noticed her guest seemed lost in thought, staring off into the distance. It had become a habit whenever she was in the garden.

“You’re not thirsty, huh?” she teased lightly, holding the glass toward someone sitting under the garden umbrella.

The person she handed the drink to was none other than the missing singer, Y/N L/N. For three months, the paparazzi had been on your trail, but they had no idea you were hiding here—in the sanctuary of your former music teacher’s home.

Mrs. Walls still remembered the night you appeared on her doorstep, mascara streaked down your face, eyes red and swollen from crying. You looked nothing like the glamorous star she’d seen on television, but instead like a lost child searching for safety.

“I don’t know where else to go,” you had whispered, your voice trembling.

In that moment, she didn’t see the world-renowned singer. She saw the shy, seven-year-old girl who used to sit in her classroom, clutching her music notebook like a lifeline. She hugged you tightly, her heart breaking for you. “Stay as long as you need, my dear,” she had said softly, ushering you inside.

Since that night, you’d been living quietly in her guest room. The once-vibrant star barely spoke, and the silence worried Mrs. Walls more than she let on. She watched as you avoided stepping outside, terrified of being recognized. The only place you seemed at peace was her garden.

She wondered, How long will you keep hiding like this?

You took the lemonade from her hand with a quiet “Thank you” but set it on the small table beside you without taking a sip. Sitting on the bench, you leaned back, tilting your face up toward the sky. The sun was warm, filtering through the leaves of the garden trees. Through your Ray-Ban sunglasses, you watched the golden rays dance, letting them calm your stormy thoughts.

Here, in this little haven, you could pretend the outside world didn’t exist. The judging eyes, the betrayals, the relentless cameras—everything melted away in the sunlight.

You thought back to three months ago, just after wrapping up your world tour. It had been the most significant milestone in your career, a dream come true. Exhausted but proud, you returned home, excited to move on to the next chapter of your life—starting a family with your fiancé.

But the moment you landed, things began to unravel. You’d called your fiancé multiple times, but he didn’t answer. At first, you thought he was busy, but a nagging feeling in your chest wouldn’t go away.

When the truth finally came out, it shattered you. Your assistant broke the news: your fiancé had been busted at a drug-fueled party. Worse, it was also a sex party.

You felt your chest tighten at the memory. That betrayal had cut deep. But it wasn’t the only one.

Later that week, you discovered that your longtime manager, someone you trusted implicitly, had embezzled your money to feed a gambling addiction. Two people you thought you could rely on had betrayed you in the worst ways possible.

One night, overwhelmed and broken, you drove aimlessly, tears blurring your vision. Without any plan or destination, you just kept going until you found yourself parked outside Mrs. Walls’ familiar home.

Even after all these years, she had always been honest with you. When you needed guidance, she gave it without hesitation. If she thought something was right, she’d say, “Go for it, my dear.” If it wasn’t, she’d warn, “No. You deserve better.”

Now, sitting in her garden, you sighed and closed your eyes, letting the sunlight warm your face. For a moment, you could almost believe you were that shy student again before fame and heartbreak had found you.

Mrs. Walls watched you silently, her heart heavy. She wanted to help, but she knew you needed to find your way back on your own.

“How long are you planning to hide here?” she finally asked, her voice gentle but firm.

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you opened your eyes and looked at her. “I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Just like this, Mrs. Walls worried about you. You knew you were taking advantage of her kindness, aware she wanted you to step out of your shell, but you weren’t ready. The thought of facing the questions, the prying eyes, and the silent judgment was too much.

Just a little more time, you thought. That’s all I need. And some peace.

But peace wasn’t always easy to come by.

"VROOM!"

A sudden loud roar shattered the tranquility of the garden. The grating sound of a lawn mower filled the air, making you wince. You covered your ears, irritation flashing across your face.

Your gaze turns toward the source of the noise. “It’s already noon. The sun’s scorching hot—what kind of madman decides this is the best time to mow their lawn?”

“Well…” Mrs. Walls trailed off, watching the man seated atop the lawn mower. Her lips pressed into a thin line.

It's her neighbor, a man who had recently moved in. He wasn’t just any neighbor—he was one of her former students. Not from her music classes, though. He’d been one of the troublemakers, a kid who lived on detention slips and second chances.

“Bucky!” she called out, her voice carrying across the garden.

The man paused, cutting the engine. The deafening noise stopped, leaving an almost eerie silence in its wake. He climbed off the lawn mower, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.

You squinted, ready to roll your eyes, but then your gaze lingered for a moment longer than you wanted. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and his broad chest glistened with sweat. The sun highlighted the sculpted lines of his six-pack, and every step he took radiated an infuriating confidence.

Great, you thought bitterly. Annoying and ridiculously good-looking. Just my luck.

Mrs. Walls met him halfway, handing him a glass of lemonade. “Thank you,” Bucky said, his voice low and smooth.

You let out an exaggerated sigh and rolled your eyes. “You’re welcome for the noise pollution,” you muttered loud enough for him to hear.

He turned, raising an eyebrow at you. “You’re welcome for cutting the grass, princess.”

“Princess?” you repeated, your tone sharp. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re out here ruining everyone’s peace, and I’m the problem?”

He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest, the gesture only drawing more attention to his muscles. “Stop acting like a diva.”

Your jaw dropped. “I am a diva!”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed, taking a long sip of lemonade.

“What rock have you been living under?” you snapped, glaring at him.

He rolled his eyes dramatically, his expression shifting to one of mild exasperation. What you didn’t know was that Bucky wasn’t as clueless as he seemed. For the past three years, he’d been living under the radar, cutting ties with his old life. His job had demanded secrecy, isolation, and sacrifice. He didn’t have the luxury of keeping up with the world, let alone pop culture or celebrity news.

The truth was, he hadn’t recognized you—not as the world-famous singer everyone else seemed to adore. To him, you were just the frustrating woman who had suddenly appeared in Mrs. Walls’ house and made everything more complicated.

But even as irritation bubbled under his skin, he couldn’t help but feel intrigued. There was a fire in you that clashed with his rough edges, and it both annoyed and fascinated him.

For Bucky, Mrs. Walls had always been a comforting presence—a grandmother figure who offered him advice and a safe space to talk. Her home had become a haven. And then you showed up.

Now, that peace was gone, replaced with constant banter and an energy that made it hard for him to stay indifferent.

Mrs. Walls watched the two of you, her lips twitching as if suppressing a smile. Despite your usual quiet demeanor, you seemed to come alive whenever Bucky was around.

“You two are like a pair of bickering children,” she muttered under her breath.

“Excuse me?” you said, shooting her a look.

“Nothing, dear,” she replied with a knowing smile, sipping her lemonade.

Bucky glanced at you, shaking his head. “You know, for someone who wants peace and quiet, you sure have a lot to say.”

“And for someone who wants to mow the lawn, you sure talk a lot for no reason,” you shot back, folding your arms.

Bucky laughed, low and mocking. “This is going to be fun.”

“Fun for you, maybe,” you muttered, turning your attention back to the garden, though your face was still flushed from the exchange.

As he walked away, you couldn’t help but glance at his retreating figure, hating how effortlessly confident he looked. Bucky, meanwhile, shook his head, pretending not to notice you watching him.

Both of you were equally exasperated—and similarly intrigued.

Bucky reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin, holding it up between two fingers with a smug grin. “Alright, princess, let’s make a deal. If it lands heads, I’ll keep mowing. If it’s tails, I’ll stop, and you can go back to your precious nap.”

You crossed your arms tightly, narrowing your eyes at him. “I hate this game,” you muttered, watching as the coin gleamed in the sunlight. He always did this—turning everything into some sort of challenge just to get under your skin.

Bucky smirked, clearly enjoying your irritation. “I know. That’s why it’s so much fun.”

Rolling your eyes, you huffed, “Tails.”

He nodded mock-seriously, flicking the coin into the air with practiced ease. It spun rapidly, catching the light with every turn before landing in his palm. He slapped it onto the back of his hand, then slowly revealed the result with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Heads,” he declared, his voice full of triumph.

“Ugh!” You threw your hands in the air, frustrated, pushing off the bench. As you stomped toward the house, the wooden slats creaked behind you, muttering, “I’m getting noise-canceling headphones.”

Mrs. Walls watched you retreat inside, shaking her head with a fond smile. She turned to Bucky, who was spinning the coin between his fingers like a magician showing off his trick.

“You really should stop teasing her,” Mrs. Walls said gently, her tone a mix of reproach and amusement.

Bucky shrugged, slipping the coin back into his pocket. His lips curled into a devilish grin. “Nah… it’s fun.”

🌷🌷🌷🌷

You peeked through the blinds, trying not to let the soft rustle of the fabric give you away. Outside, Bucky was still chatting casually with Mrs. Walls. He leaned against the handle of the lawn mower, his broad shoulders relaxed, and his expression unusually serene.

How could he be so normal and polite with her, yet every time he spoke to you, it felt like he lived to make you grit your teeth?

You narrowed your eyes, watching him laugh at something Mrs. Walls said. That face… you thought bitterly. What a waste of a perfectly good jawline and those stupid dimples.

Letting the blinds fall back into place with a soft snap, you turned away and headed to your room.

Inside, the space was dim, the curtains drawn tightly against the glaring afternoon sun. The cool, muted light was a welcome contrast to the irritation buzzing in your head. You kicked off your slippers with a little more force than necessary and flopped onto the bed, burying your face in the pillows.

The mattress was soft, and the faint scent of lavender from the room’s diffuser helped ease the tension in your shoulders. But even as you lay there, trying to block out the world, your mind kept drifting back to the smug grin on Bucky’s face and the way he seemed to revel in riling you up.

“Urgh,” you groaned, rolling onto your side and hugging the pillow close. You closed your eyes, willing yourself to forget about him.

Eventually, the steady hum of the ceiling fan and the distant chirping of birds outside began to lull you into a state of calm. Your breathing slowed, and your grip on the pillow loosened. For now, rest was the only thing you wanted—a reprieve from the relentless antics of your maddeningly handsome neighbor.

🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷

The dream came fast and vivid, like a storm. You were running—barefoot, your breath ragged and your heart pounding in your chest. Behind you, shadowy figures loomed, their voices sharp and cruel. The flash of cameras blinded you, their light like fire against your skin. You kept running, your legs aching, but the ground felt like quicksand, pulling you down.

You jolted awake, gasping for air. Your hands gripped the sheets tightly as your heart raced, the remnants of the nightmare still clinging to your mind. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, you saw the dim, glowing numbers: 2:00 a.m.

Sleep felt impossible now. The stillness of the house, once comforting, now felt suffocating. You swung your legs off the bed and walked to the window, pushing it open. Cool air rushed in, brushing against your flushed skin and carrying the faint scent of dew and earth.

“Should I go out?” you murmured to yourself. It was late—no, it was early—and the world outside was likely asleep. It might be safe.

Pulling on a hoodie and sweatpants, you crept quietly through the house. Every creak of the floorboards beneath your feet made your pulse spike, but you pressed on, determined. When you reached the door, you hesitated, your hand resting on the doorknob.

Flashes of the past flooded your mind—the crowd of paparazzi outside your apartment, shouting your name, their cameras clicking incessantly, their relentless pursuit. You clenched your eyes shut and took a deep breath.

“It’s different here,” you whispered, willing yourself to believe it. Slowly, you pushed the door open and stepped outside.

The cool grass greeted your bare feet as you stepped off the porch, the gentle night breeze brushing against your face. There was no one. No voices. No flashing lights. Just silence and the soft rustling of leaves in the dark.

You exhaled deeply, relief washing over you like a wave. One tentative step after another, you left the house, the distance growing between you and your sanctuary.

You wandered toward the park, the faint glow of streetlights guiding your way. The world felt peaceful, and for the first time in months, so did you—until the faint hum of an engine broke the stillness.

You glanced over your shoulder, your pulse quickening. A car was following you, its headlights low but its presence unmistakable. Then you saw it—a glint of metal, the unmistakable outline of a camera lens.

Shit. They’d found you.

Your heart pounded as the car crept closer. Picking up your pace, you started walking faster, then broke into a run.

“Y/N! Where have you been?” a voice called out from the car, loud and intrusive.

You didn’t answer, your breath quickening as you pushed yourself to move faster.

“Have you heard your ex-fiancé has rekindled things with his ex?”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. What? Your mind reeled. You hadn’t even ended things officially, and he’d already moved on? That bastard. While you were here, broken and dealing with trauma, he was playing house?

“Is it true you gave money to your manager, knowing about his gambling addiction?”

You stopped dead in your tracks, glaring at the man hanging out of the car window. “No! I didn’t know! Leave me alone, you jerk!”

You started running again, your breath burning in your lungs, your legs aching. Desperation clawed at you as the car followed relentlessly. Then you saw him—a familiar figure jogging under the streetlights.

“It can’t be,” you whispered.

Without thinking, you sprinted toward him, your voice frantic. “Bucky! Help me!”

Bucky stopped mid-stride, his brows furrowed as he saw you running toward him. His routine early-morning jog had just turned unusual. His sharp eyes quickly took in the distress written all over your face. Before he could react, you leaped behind him, clutching the back of his hoodie and crouching slightly to shield yourself.

He stiffened, caught off guard. Then he saw it—a car slowing down, its passenger wielding a camera that kept flashing incessantly. The bright lights blinded him momentarily, and irritation sparked in his chest.

“Hey!” Bucky growled, marching toward the car. The camera flashes continued, and without hesitation, he snatched the camera from the paparazzo’s hands and smashed it against the pavement.

The paparazzo’s jaw dropped in shock. “My camera!” he yelled, scrambling to pick up the broken pieces.

But he wasn’t done. Pulling out his phone, the man began recording. “You’re a dead man! Who the fuck are you? Her boyfriend? Bodyguard?”

Bucky, his irritation mounting, opened his mouth to correct him, but before he could, you blurted out, “He’s my boyfriend.”

Bucky froze, glancing over his shoulder at you. Your grip on his hoodie tightened as you peeked around him, glaring at the paparazzo.

The man in the car stared at the two of you, his phone still recording. “This is going to be front-page news.”

Bucky sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What the hell did you just drag me into?” he muttered under his breath.

Exciting News!

I’m thrilled to announce the release of my new book, Dad, I Can’t Let You Go—a heartfelt collection of short poems about loss, love, and the journey of missing someone deeply. This book is dedicated to my father and to anyone who has experienced the pain of losing a loved one.

Available now on E-Kindle Amazon!

Dad, I Can't Let You Go! <<< Here's the link.

Thank you for your support, and I hope these poems resonate with you.

Join the taglist 💖💖💖

@thezombieprostitute

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@mostlymarvelgirl

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@mrsnikstan

@maryssong23

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Price worships Nik's body like he deserves, and treats him to a new experience.

cw: chest worship, rimming, anal sex, bottom Nikolai.

"You ready?"

"I am ready."

Price nodded and took one final glance around the room to ensure all assets were in position. Window open for the breeze, candles secure, lube in place on the bedside table, towels on hand, water with ice in a pint glass. Everything was thoroughly prepared. Right, he was ready to deploy.

Price scratched the back of his neck, glancing up through his eyebrows at the slab of top tier Russian beef currently awaiting him in the middle of the bed. It had been a hard week, Nik was exhausted, but two days into their leave, with the rest of the world shut out, Nik was finally in the right frame of mind for intimacy. Price had to get this bloody right.

And there he lounged, all dark hair, thick muscle and cocky smile. Fucking beautiful.

It had always struck Price how confident Nik was naked. He swaggered around their flat with his massive dick out, hard or soft, and had once almost answered the door in the buff. Would have given Beryl from Number 4 a bloody heart attack as she clutched their Amazon parcel full of creatine.

In all fairness, Price thought as he studied his lover on the bed, he would probably walk around naked too if he looked that bloody good. Nik had one arm tucked behind his head, a knee hitched up the bed, his prick sitting semi-hard in the curve of his hip as he studied Price with those big, inquisitive eyes.

In that one gay werewolf romance novel Price had found in Soap's quarters, the author had talked about hard lines and angles, but outside the sharp edge of his jaw and defined chin, Nik was all firm curves that made Price want to sink his teeth in and hump like a randy bloody dog. His shoulders, his biceps, his plush stomach, just lean enough to see his abdominals when he clenched to sit up, the mouthwatering heft of his balls between muscular thighs.... Fuuuh-kin' 'ell.

"Are you okay?" Nik asked, head tilting to the side.

"Grand," Price said, voice tight in his throat. "Just admirin' the scenery."

Nik smiled at him. It was the goofy little grin he only ever flashed when he was up to mischief, or planning it. Price cocked a brow as he slipped out of his boxers and lobbed them in a ball towards the laundry basket. He wasn’t quite at the 'walk around the house bollock naked' stage of his personal development. Maybe that happened when you turned forty.

Price didn't miss the way Nik's eyes ran down the length of his body as he swaggered up to the foot of the bed, bottom lip rolling between his teeth. Nik rubbed one big hand over the shaft of his cock, giving it a longing little tug as his gaze lingered on Price's lips. "Mm. Are you sure you would not rather do our usual?"

Price knelt on the mattress unsteadily, his own prick filling quickly in anticipation of getting his mouth on Nik's body. He crawled his way up the bed, marking the location of those greedy hands in case he needed to deploy countermeasures to maintain control of the engagement. "Naw. Ya promised. This is what I want."

Nik sighed, flopping his hands onto the bed, palms up. They had negotiated tying them to the headboard, because Nik might be tempted to use them as a distraction to get his own way. Wouldn't be the first time. But Nik had promised to behave. Given his word, in fact. Plus, running his hands over Price was one of the parts he enjoyed the most about sex, and Price was bloody well looking forward to feeling them clutch his back for the finale, anyway.

"Let me, Nik. Wanna make ya feel good," Price said as he sprawled at his lover's side, placing a palm in the centre of Nik's belly. He stroked his thumb through the soft hair trailing down to Nik's groin, jet black streaked with wisps of white and grey, and pressed his lips to Nik's bicep, blue eyes wide and imploring.

"I have never been able to say no to those eyes," Nik said, and leaned in for a kiss. Price let him have it, kissing slowly as he trailed that hand up to Nik's chest. His palm brushed over soft nipples, a fingertip teasing around the areola of one until it pulled tight.

Tonight was about Nik and his pleasure. Not that Nik had been able to fully grasp why Price wanted such an evening. "Because yer just asked a question as stupid as that," Price had said at the time, cutting off the end of his cigar. Nik had still looked nonplussed. It was truly baffling how little Nik considered his own needs and desires.

Price kissed slowly down Nik's jaw, savouring the bristles of stubble against his lips, tracing his nose over his neck to breathe him in. "Always smell so good," Price grumbled, leaning over to press his face into the hollow of Nik's throat for a deeper breath that made his mouth water.

"You have scents you prefer." Nik's hand couldn't stay still for long. It brushed up Price's back, fingertips skating over goosepimpled skin, sliding into his hair from the base of his neck. There was no attempt to guide, only hold, Nik’s thumb circling lazily beneath Price's ear.

"Oh yeah?" Price kissed Nik's clavicle, before working slowly down the centre of Nik's chest. He paid close attention to the curve of one glorious tit while he squeezed the other, rolling it around against his palm. Nik's cock twitched with interest; he liked having his chest played with, pushed into it, in fact.

"Da," Nik's fingers tightened a little as Price kissed across the crest of his pectoral and down the outside where the skin was soft, sensitive. It made Nik shiver, the first crack in his laid-back facade. "You prefer... mm, you prefer..."

"What do I prefer, Nik?" Price's tongue swirled around a nipple before he sucked it into his mouth, stroking the other between finger and thumb. That earned him a soft moan, Nik's head flopping back as he drew in deep breaths through his nose.

"You prefer muskier scents. Ones that, ah, John..."

"Doin' well, Nik," Price whispered, warm breath ghosting over wet skin. He guided Nik's arms up again to kiss into the dip of his armpit. Nik's fingers curled into his palm and he spread his legs, hips twitching up with a swell of arousal, another soft noise of enjoyment rumbling from that thick chest. Price kissed and nosed the underside of his bicep, before kissing deep into the groove again, where the taste and smell of Nik was rich. He lingered there until Nik shuddered out another soft moan, fingers and toes curling as his cock twitched up from his hip with an involuntary flex of his kegel.

“Soundin’ so pretty for me, sweet'eart.”

Nik flushed, self conscious, and Price squeezed the fingers wound through his just above Nik's head before he released them to kiss over Nik's obliques. Nik kept his arm curled up obediently, baring himself for Price's mouth even as his hips squirmed. Every inch of skin deserved to be worshipped, and Nik was enjoying it, his prick hard and leaking thick beads of precum where it rested heavily under its own weight against his belly. "Doin' so well," Price said again.

Price's hand had followed the progress of his mouth on the other side of Nik's body, stroking the contours of his torso down to his hip. Nik's fingers fluttered over the back of his wrist as if to ground himself, finding purchase again as he stroked into Price's hair. He was breathing heavier, fighting his instinct to take the wheel, squirming against the softness of the sheets.

Price glanced up to see Nik's head tilted back, his eyes closed and his damp lips parted, before he continued down his belly to press a soft kiss to the tip of his cock. It twitched against his lips and Price ran the tip of his nose down the thick vein right to the base, nuzzling into the thick curls of black hair at his groin until he could bury his face against the heft of his sac. Price kneaded at the bedsheets, growling softly, feral, as his beard and face soaked in Nik's scent.

“Are you going to eat me, John?” Nik asked, amused, his voice thick and low as he looked down the slope of his body to John’s face. He'd see wild blue eyes buried among the thick hair around his cock, the side of John's nose brushing gently over the velvet skin of his shaft. John kept his eye contact as he opened his mouth and sucked around the base of Nik's cock, tongue swirling down over his balls. “Ahh, da… John…”

Nik sounded so good like that. Breathless, a slight tremor in his voice as a sigh stuttered over parted lips. John licked and kissed lazily, working his way back up to swirl his tongue over the soft join of skin at the back of Nik’s glans until Nik's thighs were twitching. John sucked over Nik’s leaking tip, moaning wantonly as he licked it clean of precum, tongue swirling through his slit until Nik's stomach clenched. Only then, did he pull away with a swift kiss to his glans, smirking up at Nik's flustered expression.

Nik groaned and flopped a wrist over his face. “John, pochemu ty vse vremya menya draznish?”

Price chuckled, hitching up onto his elbow so he could reach for the lube he had chucked onto the bedside table earlier. When he returned his mouth to Nik's cock, his slick fingers stroked down his taint, heavy balls nestling in the curve of his palm, so warm, so perfect, that Price couldn't help but suck another deep kiss over them. The fact that Nik's thighs spread, his hips lifting to Price's mouth in little needy twitches, made Price damn near purr.

It was rare he got to tease Nik for this long. Nik was usually too impatient to get between Price's legs and Price enjoyed getting drilled too much to put up any resistance. When time was short, they defaulted to the demands of raw need, but with two days of leave behind them and two more ahead, they had time and space to indulge.

Price pressed up just behind Nik's balls, circling the walnut shaped firmness that made Nik's back bow a little from the bed, as he kissed and lapped sloppily up and down his shaft. When Price worked lower, massaging the cluster of nerves around his opening. Nik’s fingers fisted in the sheets, a soft grunt escaping his throat.

Price kissed the soft skin of Nik's inner thigh, lips lingering over his thrumming pulse. “Ty slishkom napryazheny, tebya nuzhno rasslabit'sya…”

Nik glowed, dark eyes soft. “Ha, John… your… that was good…”

“Need ya to relax for me then,” another kiss, fingers still caressing insistently at Nik's fluttering hole, “ty khochesh etogo, da, detka?” Price asked, his voice husky and thick, and it had the desired effect, Nik’s body curled a little with delight.

“Da, ya klyanus…”

“Gluboko dyshat.” Price nuzzled the heft of Nik’s balls again, shouldering his leg a little further away as his tongue followed the slick path of his fingers to Nik's hole. He kissed the flexing muscle as deeply and passionately as if it were Nik’s mouth, tongue swirling around the outer ring before lapping inside.

Nik made the most beautiful noise Price had ever heard; a desperate, broken little whimper that might have started as a Russian curse and ended in a soft plea. A world away from the guttural grunts and moans he usually made during their tumbles. Price earned another when he thrust his tongue in again, followed by his forefinger. He worked them in and out together, the firm press of his fingertip contrasting with the slick writhe of his tongue in a messy glide that made Nik tremble.

“Ahh, haa, John… John… da, yeshcho, ahh, yeshcho,” Nik moaned, pressing his head back into the pillow, his legs shaking as Price’s finger curled to find his prostate and began to circle it. As an older gent, Nik's was a little bigger, easier to locate, and Price was going to take full advantage. Bloody hell, he was so sensitive, every flick and thrust of Price's tongue teasing another tortured pant out of him, thick tits heaving as his plush belly pulled tight.

Price took his time, tugging Nik’s rim down to lap the flat of his tongue over Nik's sloppy hole, enjoying the way it fluttered and clenched greedily, plunging back inside with his mouth wide. When he slipped a second finger in, Nik was relaxed enough to take it easily; Price pressed his fingertips up in a come hither motion that made Nik choke out another whimper.

Nik was so hard, his cockhead wet and glistening, and Price pumped a hand down it, working Nik's foreskin lazily over his glans. “Fuck, yer lovin’ this, aren't ya, sweet'eart? Love me playin’ with your hole.” Price’s jaw ached, his mouth watered at the delicious taste and smell of his lover on his tongue and lips. He closed his eyes to listen to the wet noise of his fingers working into Nik, and the soft, tortured noises his big Russian was panting into the warm comfort of their bedroom.

“Da, please… mm, John, haa, ah.”

“Reckon you could take my dick? Wanna feel ya…”

“Da, da.”

Price withdrew his fingers carefully, and sat up. “On yer front, spread yer legs fer me, love. Show me that pretty hole.”

Nik shifted slowly, his cheeks flushed and red, and rolled onto his hands and knees. Price guided him with gentle, encouraging hands. He placed a bent pillow beneath Nik's hips, urging his spine into a deeper curve and spreading his knees apart. All that heft and power presenting was bloody stunning, dark body hair, plush padding and muscle, Nik was a work of art. Nik's large shoulders and biceps bunched as big hands found an anchor in the blankets, his thick thighs twitching.

“There, fuck, look at’cha.. fuckin’ gorgeous,” Price breathed, thumbs pushing into the cheeks of Nik's arse to spread them open, admiring slick muscle and whirls of jet black bodyhair. He couldn't help it. He needed to taste him once more.

Nik scrambled at the blankets as Price buried his face against him, the soft bristles of his beard a little coarse against his sensitive skin as he was devoured. Price moaned as he ate his fill, saliva dripping down the back of Nik's balls. Nik damn squeaked, overwhelmed. “John, John, ahh…”

Price's cock ached, he was so damn hard, so damn desperate. He knew he was going to come quickly but it sounded like Nik was clinging on by the skin of his teeth too, ruddy cock heavy between his legs. When Price sat up, Nik was quivering, his face buried in the pillow. He placed a palm at the small of Nik's back while the other grasped the base of his cock, lining his tip up with his hole. The sight of Nik spreading open around his cockhead, gaping around his crown, swallowing an inch of his shaft, soft as butter. “Oh, fuck, Nik… takin’ me like a natural.”

Nik wheezed into the cotton pillowcase, bearing down against the intrusion, his hole sucking Price back in when his cock withdrew. Price squared his hips up and sank his fingers into the plush fat and muscle around Nik's hips, growling at the glorious, possessive give of Nik’s body in his grip. He started slowly, rocking in and out, sinking right to the hilt, pressing his balls into the weight of Nik's.

He listened to Nik’s moans, how they rose and fell, became more intense when Price was thrusting deep. The snug, inexperienced clutch of Nik's body was heavenly, the way he fluttered and bore down, hollowing out and relaxing more as the pleasure mounted.

Price draped over Nik's back, grinding and rutting into Nik's eager hole as he licked the sweat off Nik’s back, blissfully delirious. “Yeah, Nik… yeah, so fuckin’ good, fuck, oh, fuck, yeah.”

“Faster, please…”

Price pushed his knuckles into the mattress and lifted into his toes, pounding Nik down into the bed, and forcing increasingly urgent cries that couldn't be muffled by the pillows.

“John, John… vyyebi menya sil'neye, sil'neye!”

“C’mon, Nik, come for me. Lemme hear, fuck, fuck… yeah, c’mon, love, mm, aah.”

“Da, da, da…” Nik pushed back into Price's hips, desperate, needy, and Price slipped a hand beneath them to stroke Nik's cock. It took three firm tugs until Nik was half roaring, half seething through his orgasm, muffled by the pillow he'd shoved into his own mouth to manage the intensity. Price slowed, ekeing out the last few moments of his high, the tingling, heady, breathless peak before he tumbled over.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he snarled into Nik’s back, cock pulsing inside the firm grip of Nik's body. Grey splotches splashed over his vision, and he pressed his nose into the groove of Nik's spine as he wiggled and bumped his hips against Nik’s arse, humping wantonly through his own spend like a horny bloody dog. “Fuckin' ‘ell, yer so fuckin’ hot… what the fuck was that… wot…”

Nik chuckled into the pillow, breathless and limp. “John, your pillow talk is an art form.”

“Not my fault. Yer body makes me stupid. ‘m an actual dumb fuck, I…”

Nik’s soft chortles vibrated under Price's belly, rumbled around his cock still buried to the hilt, and Price grinned into his back. Those chuckles were delirious and fucked out, thoroughly satisfied, and Price felt a surge of masculine pride at his performance. He withdrew slowly, slumping to the side so he could urge Nik down against him. “You good? Nothin’ hurtin’?”

“I think I will be sore, but in a good way, no?”

“Yeah, maybe. Still. ‘m not packin’ your horse cock, so think yerself lucky.”

“You are exaggerating.”

“Nik, the first time ya fucked me, I had to stand up for the whole flight before a HALO…”

“The whole flight?” Nik asked, sounding far too pleased with himself.

“Yeah, yeah, olrigh’. Jus’ sayin’, bit of practice, everythin’ bounces back jus’ fine.”

“Hmm. You expect this to be… regular, then.”

“Got a taste of your arse now, ‘m gonna need regular top ups,” Price said, grabbing a handful of Nik's arse cheek. He leaned up on his elbow and studied Nik's face carefully. “If yer alright with that. Don't wanna be doin’ anyfin’ yer not happy with, love.”

Nik hummed. “It was… intense. I would not be against it.”

“But?”

“Being inside of you is the closest I will ever come to God.”

“Ya jus’... come out with that shit like it's normal.”

“Da,” Nik turned and sat up on his elbow, one large paw of a hand slipping around John's jaw, thumb stroking down his throat. “Mere words are not enough to express my love for you, John. But I try.”

Price swallowed, trying to ignore the fact his eyes definitely wanted to emote far more than was truly necessary. Really. He should pull himself together, damn it. They'd just fucked raw and hard, and now he was being bloody wooed all over again.

“I love you, Nik. You soppy bastard,” he croaked, and then kissed the damn fucker before he could drop anymore purple prose and make actual tears fall.

[withhugsandkisses]

daisuke, you shouldn't have ! ..really

wrote this with fem reader in mind, but i think it could be seen as gen neutral! daisuke tries to impress you by doing stupid cliche stuff. i thought about this, and i wasn't gunna write it but everyone (one person) said they'd read it so here we go! fluffy , fluffy, stupid fluff. proofread once, if any mistakes pls tell me

the amusement park was fun. you swore you'd never go on a date there because you were embarrassed of your scream on rollercoasters. but it didn't matter anymore since daisuke's was equally as ,if not more, bad.

walking hand in hand with him, you nodded as he spoke about god knows what, cotton candy in his hand. that's when your eyes drifted and you saw such a cute plush! hanging right there, practically begging you to take it home with you! "oh my god." you spoke out instinctively.

"what? what? babe, what??" your boyfriend spoke fast, noticing how fast your face was to drop. he noticed your eyes looking behind him and quickly turned around to see what caught your gaze. ahhh that plushie. making eye contact with it, he felt the biggest smirk fall upon his face. he used to wish upon stars for movie moments like this.

your trance was broken when cotton candy was shoved into your face. "hold this." you heard daisuke say smugly. you were taken back at first, holding the cotton candy reluctantly. but when daisuke started to stretch his arms, you felt yourself smile. "i'll win that for ya babe, no biggie at all!" he said a little too proudly, striding up to the carnival game confidently. you followed behind with a pep in your step.

daisuke pulled out his wallet, grabbing some cash and handing it to the stand worker. "three balls please." the stand worker nodded, taking his cash and giving him three baseball balls upon his request. so it was one of these games. he looked behind him, straight to you to give you a wink.

when you made eye contact with him, you realised your face had changed. you knew how these type games could be. you started to doubt him. just a tiny tiny bit!! but he couldn't know that! you fixed your face quickly and nodded, giving him an encouraging thumbs up.

daisuke rose his hand and threw a ball, right in-between the cans. but it hardly did anything, merely shifting them slightly. it was no secret that daisuke dabbled in sports, so this outcome to him was unacceptable. he grunted and squinted his eyes. "okay.." you could hear him softly talking to himself through this.

grasping the second ball, he threw it, but again, to no avail. "what??" daisuke said a little louder, the shock evident in his voice. you had to stifle a laugh, not wanting him to hear you. you watched him grab the last ball as you bit off some of his cotton candy.

third times a charm? nah. the last ball didn't do anything either. daisuke squinted his eyes harder at the cans, as if he could just move it with his mind. he looked so annoyed. you walked up from behind him and placed your chin on his shoulder. "awhhh, its ok daisy." you cooed. "you know how these games can be-" this time you were cut off..by..his..hand? he shoved his hand in your face!

completely dismissing what you said, he grabbed more cash from his wallet and handed it to the stand worker. "three more..please." he was always so respectful, even when he was pissed off. you stepped back away from him, letting him do his thing.

this time it took longer. he spent more time trying to time his throws, doing his best to use what he learned from his sports lessons. but it felt like no matter what angle he threw at, he couldn't do it! you could sense the scowl on his face.

once again, you walked up to him, this time placing a hand on his arm sweetly. "ok i'm serious. let's find a ride to go on. i can probably look for this thing on amazon or someth-" "no" he cut you off again.

it felt like a time loop. he grabbed out his cash, asking for another round. now usually you'd feel inclined to tell him not to waste his money, but two things stopped you. one, he's basically rich due to his parents. two, you knew there was no stopping him. you silently questioned if this was even for you anymore. maybe it was for his ego, too stubborn to lose to a simple carnival game. you looked at his cotton candy. you had already finished about half of it.

he was on his second to last ball. daisuke took a deep breath and closed his eyes, like he was saying a silent prayer. you rolled your eyes. but that's when it happened. he threw the ball harder than he'd has been, right in the middle of the cans. whatever magic that's been holding them together was undone by his throw, the cans immediately falling out of place and scrambling onto the floor. your eyes were wide and you made eye contact with the stand worker who's eyes were also wide.

looking back to your boyfriend, you could see that daisuke was breathing heavily. it was like he took all his anger and put it into that throw. seeing that he won, his demeanour changed so quick. he looked at you proudly with a big toothy smile, you could practically see his tail wagging. the stand worker spoke up, taking both of your attention. "what um. what plush would you like..?" they asked you.

you pointed to the big plush. the reason for all this. the stand worker nodded and got the plush off the hook, handing it to you. you gave daisuke back his half eaten cotton candy, and took the plush happily. feeling the soft, fluffy fabric made it all worth it. you looked into it's eyes, your own sparkling like a child's.

leaving the stand, your boyfriend took one of your hands and guided you since you couldn't stop looking at your new child. "see, told you i'd win!"

you scoffed and rolled your eyes, looking over to him. "yeah whatever godzilla, you practically destroyed those cans." you teased, seeing the boys face redden just a tiny bit.

"yeah. ok. like..whatever, you still got your prize." he retorted.

you leaned in closer and let out a hum in agreement. leaning up a little, you kissed his cheek. "thank you, my love!"

you heard his stupid giggle as you now took the lead to the newest rollercoaster.

an: yes yes waiter! more fluff material please! im in love with it! also im thinking of writing for mha characters too...but im SCARED!! im so worried id mischaracterise them so hard oof...

[yrsonpurpose]

my lady jane ± tropes

[rosedpetal]

Let's Try Something New

Summary: Outraged by the horrible smut you were reading, Robert shows you how BDSM really is.

Pairing: Robert Chase x Wife!Reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: smut, light bdsm (sorry if it's inaccurate, I'm just a vanilla girl)

Masterlist

You loved him with all your heart.

Not only that, he was a dream come true. Tall, handsome, blonde, broad and with a heart of gold. If Robert was a dog, he'd be a damn golden retriever. With his innocent blue eyes and easy smiles and suffocating affection.

To his friends and colleagues, your husband was the personification of a boy-next-door type, now turned a man with a license to practice medicine. Everything that was probably expected from him when he was young.

He was raised as a Catholic, for fucks sake, even taking the lengths of beginning his studies at seminary school when he was sixteen. Everything in him screamed safe.

You thought it was ironic.

Robert wasn't one to criticize your choice of entertainment, and he secretly knew you've read a lot of smutty books and fanfics on Tumblr. Apparently it was a popular thing amongst women. He's heard nurses talking (and they talked too damn much).

It happened while you were showering, washing your hair throughly, blissful unaware of the fact that Robert saw your book unattended in the coffee table and his curiosity took the best of him. A little peek wouldn't hurt, right?

He flicked through the pages, snorting at how inaccurate and unrealistically these scenes were written. Not only he knew the anatomy and biology like a pro (he was a doctor!) but he used to practice the very same stuff that was so poorly written in your pretentious little book.

It was all so-wrong.

He was so immersed in the horrors he was reading that he didn't notice you walking to the kitchen with a towel in your head and wearing your pajamas, ready to cook dinner. You thought it was weird, usually, he'd acknowledge you first thing. When you turned to look at him, you finally realized, in absolute horror, that he was reading the book you bought on Amazon days ago.

"Rob!" You let out a sound that resembled a squeal. "What are you doing?"

He looked up at you, trying to fight his smirk.

"Is this the kind of educational literature you buy with my hard earned money?"

Your face flushed with embarassment.

"Hey! I bought this with my money! And that's besides the point, I told you before to not snoop on my stuff."

"Because you're embarrassed of it?

"I-" You stopped yourself, feeling your cheeks redden even more.

"I'm not mad that you're reading erotica. But babe, this is so poorly written. I'm actually disappointed." He put the book back on the coffee table, crossing his arms and looking at you. "It's all a load of bull-"

"Because it's kinky? Because it's BDSM?" You knew you were being defensive, but you couldn't help it.

"No. Because this stuff is not BDSM. This author has no idea what they're talking about and is trying to use the practice of BDSM to write their rapey scenes."

You tilted your head to the side. "Are you an expert on BDSM now?" Your eyes widened as you saw your very innocent husband's expression change to slight amused. Oh my-

"I've practiced it, years ago."

You couldn't believe it.

And he kept on rambling: "Well, first of all, BDSM is not something used to subdue women. Or to force kinky practices or shit like that. I mean, where's the fucking safe word here?"

"I'm sorry, when did your BDSM practice happen? Between leaving seminary and going to med school or..?" You couldn't help the question.

He scoffed at your little jab.

"Just let me know if you wanna see for yourself what the real thing is."

That had you speechless.

He was groping you aggressively, your little movie night turned into a heavy making out session the minute the credits started rolling in the screen. You whined, your breathing mixed, your cotton clothed core rubbing shamelessly against the tent in his sweatpants.

With an arm wrapped around your waist, he quickly rolled you, your back pressing on the couch as he towered over you.

He kissed down your neck, lips trailing butterfly kisses on your feverish skin.

"I wanna try."

He froze. "Try what?"

You rolled your eyes. "You know what. BDSM. Now."

He sighed, pulling back and sitting on the couch. "Babe, it doesn't work this way."

"Come again?"

"Honey, we have to talk about this first. Do you know what BDSM stands for? What are your limits? We have to establish a safe word, or if we'll use the color system..."

You sit up, trying not to sound frustrated. "Okay, Mr. expert in BDSM. Just tell me you think I'm too vanilla to handle it."

Robert rolled his eyes. "There's nothing wrong with being vanilla."

"I can be kinky!"

"Do you want this to prove a point or are you really interested?"

"I'm interested. I wanna know if my smutty books are really that shitty."

He snorted at that, brushing a strand of hair off your face. "You're okay with being tied up?"

"Yes."

"And blindfolded?"

"Yes."

"Can you choose a safeword for me?"

"Cookie?"

"Oh, I'd love one."

"Robert!"

"Sorry, baby... Okay, let's take this to the bedroom, okay?"

He followed you inside your shared bedroom, rummaging through a drawer on his nightstand and grabbing a medium box.

You probably looked funny, sitting in bed, half naked and politely waiting for Robert to get whatever he had planned for you. He grabbed a pair of handcuffs and in a very serious tone, said:

"Lay down and put your wrists above your head."

You obeyed, feeling the cold metal close around your wrists, safely tied around the headboard. You couldn't help but let out a nervous chuckle.

"Don't go Gerald's Game on me, please."

Robert's eyes lit up a little. You were so cute. He wanted to ruin you.

"Take your mind off everything else, and close your eyes for me, beautiful."

Unconsciously, you rubbed your thighs together. That voice and that accent? Should be illegal. The way he called you beautiful as he put a blindfold on you? Completely evil.

Robert hummed to himself as he dimmed the lights of the room and turned up the thermostat. He walked back to you, sitting down next to you, slowly trailing his fingertips on your body. You actually shivered, despite the room temperature.

He kissed down your body. Your neck, collarbones, your bare chest, your navel... Just as he was about to reach your panties, he kissed the way up again, wrapping an arm around you and lifting your torso slightly to kiss you.

It was surprisingly gentle, but still breathtaking, nonetheless. His lips slowly moved against yours, his tongue slowly making its way between your lips, and you let out a little whimper while he kissed you. He pulled back, his warm breath on you as his thumb brushed your swollen lips.

Then, the dance of kissing your body returned. This time, he gently bit on your nipple, giving your breast a small squeeze, lowering his mouth and licking your clothed core. It was embarrassing how soaked through you were, your panties ruined as he hooked his finger on the elastic and pushed the fabric to the side, his tongue finally making contact with your poor pussy.

"Open your mouth for me." He demanded in a rough tone and as soon as you obeyed, he stick two fingers inside your mouth. You moisted them with your saliva, and he retreated them, only to gently push them inside of you moments later.

Your chest was heaving as he kissed and sucked on your clit, rolling his tongue, curling his fingers inside you, the wet sounds music to his ears.

"Ow!" You gasped in surprise when he slapped your clit.

"Color?"

"Green..."

"Are you sure?"

"I was just surprised, okay? Green."

He chuckled as he could hear the pout in your voice, giving you another open finger slap on your swollen clit, his other hand scissoring you, making you arch your back.

Just as you were about to orgasm, he stopped.

"Wha-Why would you do that?" You asked, in an indignant tone.

"You didn't ask for permission, princess."

"Can I please, come?"

"You have to learn how to address me, too." Robert hummed, getting off the bed and taking off his pants, stroking himself. "Can you do that for me, honey? How do you call me when you're at my mercy like a whore?"

God, you knew you were gonna lose your goddamn mind.

"Hmmm, Sir?"

"That'll do for now." He says, towering over you, spreading your legs, making your stomach tighten with anticipation.

He aligned his tip in your wet entrance, his breath becoming irregular. Slowly, he rolled his hips, hands on your waist as he fucked you. The bed creaked slightly under your bodies, and he hiked your leg up, kissing your calf, never stopping.

"You always feel so good." He admits in a gruff tone, holding your leg against his chest as you desperately tried not to scream. "I can never get enough of you, baby girl."

"Sir, I need to come, please, please, can I come?" You cried out, already feeling it.

He'd let it slide this time. You were a beginner, after all.

"Yes, baby. Come for me. Show me what I do to you."

You clamped violently around him, squelching, wet walls milking his length, and he picked up his pace, the sound of your moans, your orgasm, all too much. His whole body tensed up as he spilled inside you, groaning, gently pulling out moments later.

He released your sore wrists from the handcuffs, taking the blindfolds off your eyes.

"That wasn't so bad." You jested, throat dry.

"Yeah, just you wait when I introduce you to the flogger."

The blush on your cheeks was rewarding as he pulled you in his arms again.

[diceroll65]

deep end - b.e

billie eilish x fem! reader

*inspired by a scene in amazon prime video's 'maxton hall'*

a/n: i know i used a pic of billie w/ blonde hair, but picture her with her long dark brown hair! also this is my first billie oneshot, i hope u like it :D

warnings: angst? fluff (billie helping you calm down & taking care of you), mention of intoxication (alcohol), falling into water, hydrophobia

*also this occurs during the night time*

billie was invited to a summer party, and was given a plus one so she decides to bring you. you didn't really know how to swim, which you kept in the back of your mind, but didn't want to let that ruin the fun. you told yourself that you would just try to stay away from the pool.

as soon as you arrive, you notice how packed the scene was. there are people in the front yard, shotgunning beers and playing corn hole. you and billie step out of her car, where people immediately crowd to greet billie. you stand off to the side, letting them talk to her. after they begin to leave, she looks back at you. she looks down at your hand while grabbing it, beginning to walk towards the backyard. as soon as the pool comes into sight, there are people surrounding every corner talking, laughing drinking. you decide to get yourself a drink to calm your nerves, and billie follows right behind you. "billie!", "oh my god billie showed up!", "hey there, stranger!" is heard when billie steps into the party. you stand right beside her with your drink in hand, as her hand is resting on your waist. you begin to loosen up, just in time for billie to say she wants to get in the pool.

you just decide to go sit with her, sitting on the outside of the pool. she jumps into the deep end, where she begins swimming like a fish. she would dive under to touch the ground, and come right back up. when she comes up, she is laughing and flashes you a smile. she then flips her hair back, and every drop that her hair is holding splashes onto you. you laugh, and wipe your face "um excuse you" you say, your nose crinkling at the smell of chlorine. your feet are laying alongside the pool, dipping into the water. billie comes up to grab your legs and swivels them around, but is mindful of not pulling too hard where you would fall in the water. you feel constant shuffling behind you, which causes you to get nervous. people were so drunk that they weren't paying attention to what was in front of them.

all of a sudden, you feel a cold sensation going down your back, as someone accidentally spills their drink on you. "oh god- sorry" said a girl who is clearly intoxicated. you instantly stand up making sure to do so carefully. you reach down the back of your shirt and it is absolutely soaked. before you have time to grasp what just happened, you feel a small force and now feel coldness all around you. you have been pushed into the pool and instantly start freaking out. not only were you now in the pool, but you were in the deep end, which was about ten feet. you plunge to the bottom, and look up to see a silhouette getting closer to you. it took about fifteen seconds and suddenly you feel a tug on your arm. you are being pulled up by someone, and notice the dark brown hair as soon as you hit the third foot mark coming back up. billie brought you back up to the surface, holding you bridal style. you begin to hyperventilate, as you were trying to steady your breathing. your throat burns from all the water you've inhaled. billie notices how disoriented you are, and instantly begins to comfort you. "hey, hey look at me. look at me" she says grabbing the back of your head. "you're safe now, it's okay, baby" she says shushing you to help regulate your breathing. she begins to swim towards the shallow end, rubbing your back to warm you back up. she brings her forehead to yours, looking into your eyes "i got you, you're okay, i'm so sorry this happened" she says looking at how scared you are. you grip onto her extra tightly, hiding your face into her neck due to the embarrassment of the situation. upon stepping completely out of the pool, billie begins to feel angry at whoever did this to you. she walks out with an Irish exit, lips pursing as she focuses on getting you home dry and safe.

when you get to the car, she takes one hand off your back to gently open the passenger door. she softly sits you down, as she runs around to the other side. she gets in the car, quickly looking to see if she can find something for you to put over your wet clothes to keep you warm. she finds a light jacket and takes it, draping it over your soaking chest. as she does this, she takes her hand and holds the back of your head. "i know" she says softly with sad eyes "i am so sorry baby" she takes away her hand and starts the car. she then turns on the heat on your side. her right hand grips your thigh as she traces little circles. she feels your hands begin to tremble, and quickly covers them with hers. it almost took no time pulling up to billie's place, where she instantly gets out and runs to your side. she picks you up out of the passenger seat, walking you up the driveway. she then removes her hand to unlock and twist the doorknob. she kicks the door open softly with her foot. she kicks it back to close and begins to head towards her bedroom. she takes you to the bathroom, where she places you slowly against the sink. she delicately but swiftly removes your wet clothing. she goes in her room to grab a sweatsuit, slipping the sweatshirt over your head. she takes the sweatpants and lays them on the floor, waiting for you to step in. as you do, she pulls the sweatpants up to your hips. as she's done dressing you, she takes your wet hair wiping it out of your face.

"i'm sorry i made such a scene" you saying looking down and covering you face, embarrassed. billie pulls your hands off your face "you have absolutely nothing to apologize for, y/n" she says assuringly. "it was a scary situation, and you weren't expecting it. it's also one of your biggest fears, and you had every right to be scared. there is no right way to react to that" she says, rubbing up and down your arms. "let's get your hair dried, and we can stay in for the night. are you hungry? we can order in, whatever you want" she says smiling, while reaching up to stroke your cheek. "thank you" you say softly, as she takes you back into the bathroom, searching for the hair dryer.

the rest of the night you spend in billie's arms, with a now full stomach and calmed nerves.

[whitehotwild]

took a peek at amazon music’s The Boys character playlists (really just Butcher’s and Hughie’s… womp womp)… ohhhh old man Butcher my beloved.

all i can imagine is being at Butcher’s apartment for one reason or another.

☆ maybe the team went out to a bar together, and as everyone turned in for the night, saying their goodbyes, you and butcher were the last ones there. For whatever reason, he refuses to send you off by yourself to your own apartment this late at night and tells you to just come over and spend the night at his, that it’s closer anyway.

you try to ignore the zip up your spine when he leads you into his apartment with a hand on the small of your back. you try to ignore the soft flush of your cheeks when he teases you about snooping while you look through his one (barely filled) bookcase.

“what? you scared I’m gonna find your fuzzy pink handcuffs?” you tease right back, squatting down to flip through the vinyl records he has sitting in a milk crate next to the bookcase.

butcher rolls his eyes with a smirk, “mine ain’t fuzzy… d’you even know what those things are?”

you don’t react, but you do store that in the folder labeled ‘Useful Butcher Information’ that lives in your brain. ignoring his teasing, you let out a soft huff of laughter when you see a record you’ve only seen at your grandparent's house and in the back of a shitty thrift shop uptown.

“exactly how old are you?” you ask, pulling it out and showing him the record in question: Roy Orbison Sings Lonely and Blue (1961).

butcher walks over and takes the record from your hand, switching it for his beer. he had asked you if you wanted one when you two walked through his door, you had declined before, but have taken to stealing sips of his. it’s probably the closest you’ll get to kissing him tonight.

“old enough to know this is real music… not that Taylor Swift shite you force me to listen to in the car.” he snarks, slipping the record out of the sleeve, setting it on his cheap turntable.

you stand back up straight with a scoff, “you can make fun of my ‘brat summer’, but Miss Swift is where I draw the line.” the beginning of the record starts to ring softly through the room…

‘Only the lonely… (dum-dum-dum-dumby-doo-wah)’

“oh… you can’t be serious,” you smile softly and he holds a hand up as if telling you to ‘wait for it’. “…so corny,” you mutter shaking your head, still with that same smile.

butcher takes the beer bottle out of your hand, taking a sip before setting it on one of the shelves, “nope… classic.”

he lets himself be a bit softer around you, even if only for a moment. it’s only when you two are alone, usually late at night, usually after a few drinks that he lets the walls drop… only just a bit.

like now, when he pulls you into the empty space of his living room, placing your hand, the one that isn’t wrapped in his, on his shoulder, his free hand goes to the small of your back.

“so now you wanna dance?” you ask with a bit of snark.

butcher lets out a soft huff of amusement as you two start swaying, “what you lot was doin’ at the bar wasn’t dancin’… you was flailing about.”

“hm… whatever. least we were having fun, i mean… even M.M. got up!”

“‘cause he’s a sucker for ‘Earth, Wind & Fire’.”

“well yeah… who isn’t?”

“me.”

you roll your eyes with a soft sigh, “suuure… stick in the mud.”

you’re both quiet after that, only the sound of old music coming through shitty speakers and gentle steps against his floor fill the room. he dances you through the whole a-side of the album, the hand on your back has snaked around your waist, your head rests against his shoulder, and he holds your intertwined hands closer to his chest.

you take as much of this as you can get from him, knowing these moments are fleeting. there are so many unspoken words between the two of you, you’re too stubborn to make a move, and well… butcher’s too… butcher. he thinks he’s much too undeserving of something as precious as you.

and maybe he’s right. maybe he doesn’t deserve you, but that doesn’t stop him from wanting you, it doesn’t stop you wanting him. so for now… the soft, fleeting, moments are enough.

it’s always strange when those moments end, though. the way you can see his demeanor shift in an instant.

like now, the music stops and he looks away from you when you look up at him. you can see the way his face changes, like he’s snapping out of a trance or he’s caught himself doing something he knows shouldn’t.

butcher pulls away from you, wiping his hands on his pants as if the feeling of you lingering on his skin has to go. he turns to put the record away and turn off the turntable.

the silence lingers for a minute before he speaks up, “think we should turn in. you take my bed.”

you try to protest, “the couch-“

“don’t fight me on it.” the command isn’t harsh, it’s not mean, it’s only a bit stern, but he just wants you to listen to him.

he just wants to do something nice for you.

you nod with a quiet sigh and thank him with a soft smile. you both retire for the night and you both know you’ll be gone in the morning before he wakes up. you both know you won’t make any mention of it when you're both in the office tomorrow.

but you both know that for now, the fact that it happened at all is enough.

(divider by @/plutism)

[toxicanonymity]

Stepdad!joel stepdad!joel stepdad!joel stepdad!joel stepdad!joel 🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤

Amazon 📦

2700, stepdad!Joel x f!reader. Stepdad Master List

New: BONUS SNAPCHATS, and one more (what if)

Ty for always ID-ing stepdad in the wild @gracieispunk including this pic ILYSM!!

SUMMARY: You give Joel the cold shoulder. He's sad and horny and finds a way to get your attention with a gift. He snapchats you a lot. A/N: Shout-out to @scratchietella (cum ask). WARNINGS: I8+, POV alternates twice, jacking off, stepcest, degradation, angst, reflection on cheating, a bit of whump and a hint of reader dacryphilia. Joel comes a lot (7x or so?), and I spelled it the short way for disambiguation.  NO use of Y/N. 

After you let Joel give you head, he thinks he’s back in your good graces despite cheating with your mom. But as soon as Joel leaves your room, you must be putting on your clothes. Because within less than a minute, you call Jacques on your way downstairs-–in earshot–to apologize on Joel's behalf for rushing him out.  

Joel follows you downstairs, but your Mom is on her way in.  You go out the front door, and when your Mom walks in from the garage, Joel is standing at the kitchen with his hair all messed up from running his hands through it in distress.  He doesn’t know if you’re going to Jacques’s, back to your apartment, or out, but he doesn’t like it. Joel knows he has no right to tell you anything, but that doesn’t stop him from calling you.  You don’t answer.  

Your Mom isn’t home for long.  She goes right back out, at which point Joel goes straight to his dresser to retrieve both pairs of your panties: The pair you gagged him with after he gave you a ride home, and the pair you stuffed in his pocket in the kitchen on Thanksgiving. The ones from the car are already ruined by his own cum, but the ones from Thanksgiving are all you. 

Joel lies on the bed and lubes up his cock, still hard from eating you out.  He puts on his glasses and looks at the screenshots he took of you before he knew Snapchat was telling on him. He whimpers as he strokes himself.

After a minute of looking at your scandalous photos, he feels pathetic for clinging to such a tiny morsel of you when he needs it all. He tosses his phone aside, closes his eyes, and smothers his face with your panties as he strokes himself.  He takes in deep breaths and he grunts and moans into them, and his hips involuntarily flex like his fist might as well be you. 

For the thousandth time, he imagines putting an end to his misery by just fucking your shit up.  Busting in your door, grabbing you by the throat slamming you against the wall.  Shoving his tongue down your throat and his hand between your legs. Tearing your clothes off as you whimper his name. Then taking you to bed, only so he can put you on your back and spread you wide open.

He'd memorize the folds of your dripping cunt as it twitches and begs for his tongue. Flip you over and shove himself in without warning, making you mewl as his girth splits you in two. Pounding you. Spanking you. Yeahh, just railing into your needy whore cunt as you whimper under him.  He sees your face screwing up as he cums inside you with a harsh grunt, finally giving you what you wanted all this time, a cunt full of his load.  

Cut to his own fist full of it on his bed. As he lies there breathing, the shame sets in. Not only the stepcest shame, but also the knowledge that he'd never have the balls to do any of that. It’s barely believable enough to get off to.  And then the guilt sets in – the guilt of what he did, how he fucked things up with you.  He feels guiltier about this than he felt for cheating on your Mom. He feels like he cheated on you. 

He puts away the evidence and washes his hands. Then he stares at your text convo. He has to figure out how to make things right. 

You don't respond to a single text or snap for the next week or so, and you don’t come back to the house either. Joel feels even more desperate. He’d do anything, if he only knew what might help.  He needs something to get your attention. He doesn’t sleep with your Mom, and your Mom doesn’t care. She doesn’t even bring it up. He’s pretty sure she’s having an affair anyway. Brazenly.  For her to confront Joel about his lack of interest would be to risk Joel confronting her about the affair. Joel isn't sure if it’s physical or just emotional, but it doesn’t matter much. He’s over it. 

Joel thinks about you at night and wonders if you think about him, too. He envisions what you might look like, thinking of him.  He imagines you with your spine arched, toy between your legs, closing your eyes, just soaking your sheets as you sigh his name. One night, he’s picturing this, really choking his cock.  He groans then sighs as he cums into his fist.  And then, when he’s recovering from his climax, that’s when it hits him.  How to get your attention. 

—---------

You’re lying on the couch watching TV.  You’re distracted.  Joel’s outreach has been ambiguous so far.  He hasn’t said anything about your mom. He hasn’t begged for pictures, much less for another chance. He’s only begged for forgiveness, over text.  You haven’t opened his snapchats because you don't want to be reminded about what he did.  You don’t want a serious talk or a lecture or god forbid details.  You don’t even want a sincere apology, unless it’s in the interest of fucking you.  

You get a notification that you have a package at the leasing office and sigh in exasperation that you have to make the trip there when it's probably not even yours. You aren't expecting anything, but sure enough, it has your name on it. 

It’s a vibrator.  Your heart races when you read the gift message. “Thinking of you. A lot. I’m sorry. J.” Unwanted butterflies swarm in your chest and you try to bat them away. He even included an extra pack of batteries.  How. . . thoughtful. Smart, too, because if it were rechargeable, you’d never plug it in.  It would feel like an admission of forgiveness. But since it’s battery-operated, you can just pull the battery tab as soon as you get horny. And of course you do. You lay on the sofa where you and Joel hooked up before and you take the toy for a spin. His ploy is working, you’re thinking of him, and you’re too horny to care.

You finally open his snapchats. They're a mix of horny and pathetic videos. They start off horny, just showing you a bulge in his pants or he's jacking off with your panties.  

Video: Then something non-sexual. A closeup where he’s just looking at you with messy hair, puppy dog eyes, and dark circles. “Talk to me. Yell at me, I don’t care. I'll take anything.” 

Video: Then horny. Palming himself over his joggers.  Whining your name in a whisper.  “Please.” His desperation turns you on. 

Video: A sad one the same night. He's sweating, looking like a little more of a mess, forehead glistening, catching his breath. "Don't throw this away." He breathes for a few more seconds.

Video: Another sad one another day where he doesn’t really say anything but his face says it all.  He looks awful, as if he’s not sleeping. Red eyelids, might have been crying.  He starts to say something, “I—” he takes a deep breath. Then he shakes his head, looks up and it cuts off. 

Video: A horny one that must have been the same night. He looks the same, but his reddened eyes look hungry. His lips are parted and he's taking in a shaky breath with his arm moving slowly off screen. "I just miss you." He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He turns the camera down where his clothed erection sticking straight up in his joggers, just jutting into the air. His hand pushes it down and he slowly grabs it.

You leave his snaps on "seen," not even beginning to reply. Then a few minutes later he sends a new one.  A minute after that, another one.  You leave those unseen for the time being.

—------------

Joel sees you open the old snaps. That's progress, he thinks, and boldly assumes you open them when you’re horny. When he starts to second guess that assumption, he gets self conscious and thinks it might be for the better that you don’t open the last two snaps. They might have been too much. . .

Video: He’s sitting in his office chair in front of a full length mirror. He’s manspreading and his joggers are hugging him in a way that emphasizes his bulge.  His big, veiny hand is slowly rubbing his inner thigh, getting closer and closer to where he desperately wants your touch. He says, “Ya know,” (deep breath) “I should be doin’ that for you.” Then he palms his arousal and says, “Ahh, fuck it.”  

Video: A few minutes later, he’s slouched down in the chair.  His T-shirt is pulled up well over his  belly button and his hand around his cock. After just a few wet strokes, he sighs loudly as he cums all over his abdomen.  It’s a lot of cum, like six or seven ropes. Then his stomach rises and falls with heavy breaths for a few seconds before he ends the video. 

He’s grateful for the glimmer of hope but still beating himself up.  He doesn’t know what to do. He’s not even sure what you want. At times, it feels like a losing battle. He’s not even sure what you feel.  At some point he thought he knew, on some level. He thought you both knew, the moment you kissed, it felt like there was something electric neither of you could articulate but both of you knew.

It felt more than skin deep, but he couldn’t say where it went within either of you.  He still can’t say. It’s not like you were in love. Certainly not batting eyelashes at each other or making future plans. Half the time you were bickering.  But there was something there.  Even if it was only physical, it was deep in your bones and something made it electric. 

The further it gets from that moment, the more he wonders what you ever wanted. Is he your play thing? Do you get off on torturing him? Did you genuinely enjoy chatting with him?  Do you get off on sneaking around or would you be into him if you knew each other a different way? 

He pushes those thoughts away and keeps coming back to the physical spark between you. The hunger in your eyes.  Your persistence.  He wants both of you to take a leap of faith–not into a relationship–but a leap backward to the beginning.  This all burned down and needs to be rebuilt from the ground up.  If he lets it cool and builds it right, maybe it can become something better.  Abstaining from other people feels like a good start. He can’t think about whether you’re seeing anyone else or it keeps him up at night. 

—-----

The next day, you’re horny again.  You get comfortable and turn on your new toy. You tell yourself opening his snaps doesn’t mean anything.  You don’t have to respond.   It won’t have any effect on you.  But when you watch those two in his office, and oh, God. It takes you no time flat to cum, and cum hard.  You don’t say anything back to him. He texts you, “did you like that?” and you don’t respond.  He continues, “if not i’ll stop, sorry. Lmk.” You don’t let him know anything at all. You stay radio silent. 

Over the next couple of weeks, he keeps snapchatting you.  Even if you don’t open it that night, he knows you might go on a spree and open several in a row, probably when you’re using his gift. 

Video: It’s a computer screen with your insta pulled up.  He’s at the desk in his bedroom, the one where you found him jacking off to your pictures a few of months ago. He points the camera down at his lap and he’s wearing gray boxer briefs you didn’t know he had.  You see the very clear outline of his hard cock atop his thigh, straining to burst out of them.  “See what ya do to me.” He runs his hand down it with a low sigh.

Video: A few minutes later, selfie mode, breathing heavily.  Hand wrapped around his shiny cock, stiff and swollen.  He fists himself at a beat that’s becoming as irregular as his ragged breaths. He grunts as he thrusts into his hand.  “Oh, fuck—oh—-ohhh fuck, I–nngg–” He devolves into a groan as he erupts in his hand. It shoots back toward the camera. It takes a good thirty seconds of him moaning and sighing and catching his breath before he’s finally done emptying his balls. 

Video: He’s on his bed, rear camera facing his lap.  cock and his hand gliding wetly up and down it.   “I can’t believe. . .” (heavy breathing) “-oh, fuck—I–I can’t --I can't believe,” (moan) “I ever turned you down.” (long, drawn out orgasmic groan). 

Photo: Close-up of his lap with a boner.  His hand resting at his groin. His hand has no business being that hot.  Caption: How’s silicone joel treating you.”  You roll your eyes and begrudgingly smile just a little as you use the silicone joel and quickly tap for the next snap. 

Video: He’s in the office again, standing in front of the full length mirror. He’s in boxer briefs and his thighs swell out from them. No shirt.  He pans so you can see him head to toe, shirtless. Then he relaxes back in the chair, manspreading. The snap ends and it cuts to the next one.

Video: Now he’s breathing fast, stroking his raging erection feverishly in the next one “Ohh-nng-Oh–God–Fu–” (moan) “Fffuuuck” (loud, low sigh).  Stringy white ropes rocket onto his abdomen as he shudders loudly and strokes himself slower. You rewatch this one multiple times and count seven real ropes before it’s just gurgle. Seven.

You think about getting your ipad out and taking a video of this one for later use, but you accidentally tap for next. By now, he's completely unashamed.

Video: He’s in his car. You can only see his lap, and the ample bulge in his joggers. “Had to pull over.” He scoots the seat back, rubs himself slowly, breathing heavily. “Just thinkin’ about” (low sigh) “the way you came all over my mouth” He pulls his waistband down, spits on his cock, then sighs loudly. That snap ends, and in the next one--

Video: He's just cumming–really hard. It’s his fist around his cock.  “Oh, fuck,” (a gasp, then a soft, ragged groan)  “Fu–” he cuts himself off with a long sigh as he cums into a t-shirt.  You can’t see the cum but know it’s a lot.  You see his cock twitch and his hips lift as he sighs again. 

Photo: His big, masculine hand is holding a peach. Caption: Every fkn thing reminds me of you. 

All this time, you’re still not responding. Not so much as a thumbs up or sweating emoji. But you keep watching them, day after day, until  one day, he doesn’t send any.  You use the toy and just think about him, envisioning his videos, and replaying your encounters. You don’t just think about him jacking off, you think about him crying, too, and that turns you on just as much. You picture him crying and jacking off and you cum instantly. Then you feel kinda bad.

In your post-nut clarity, that’s when you realize you’re pretty much ready to move on from it.  Because you start to worry. Maybe he’s had enough of the games. Maybe he’s given up. Maybe you shouldn’t have punished him like this. It was fucked up, so fucked up, but the memory will fade. You detached enough in the moment that it's not that vivid to begin with.

Joel is married. He’s always been married. That's why he was always saying no. They kissed in front of you days before. Instead of insisting on a conversation, within sixty seconds you were putting your panties in his pocket. Then you made a pass at him, and he got you off on the kitchen counter.  Then you kissed.

That kiss. It was so loaded. Packed full of tension and potential. A glimpse of what could be had. There's no doubt in your mind the sex would be explosive.

If Joel hasn’t given up, maybe this interlude got you a little closer to what you want, somehow.  There's only one way to find out.

—-----

BONUS SNAPCHATS

the silicone Joel

STEPDAD MASTER LIST - Fandango has the most advanced smut

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THANK YOU for reading and engaging. Your reblogs and comments mean so much to me, and I love when I start to see new “regulars.” It’s so exciting really. Love you guys 💙💙💙

Special shoutout to stepdad’s lawyer @milla-frenchy for expert counsel!

A/N: Based on a) people wanting her to hold out on him longer (which is what this was) and b) what i want to do on vacation, I think the vacation is going to have to be after Christmas. 

FAQ: I’m not planning on pursuing the jacques/cheatbacks storyline rn, you can HC that however you want as for what she did that night (if anything).  Don’t really wanna address the mom situation more, and probably won’t answer plot Qs. That way maybe you'll get the next story sooner --- I’m kinda trying to make this easier to write so it won’t take so much deliberation and weighing opposing inputs lol.

TBH it was supposed to just be sexy, smutty, scandalous, “we shouldn’t be doing this” PWP and it kinda got away from me.  But I at least wanted to give a little insight into Joel’s POV with this  one. 

Now back to the agenda: [cock, baby!.gif ].

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All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea@evyiione@xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious@chernayawidow@ambassadortotrilliusprime@not-a-unique-snowflake-blog@jasminespringtime @romanarose@fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore@blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires@taeslarityy@str84pedro@lokanda @kyloispunk @filthfairy@fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine@worhols@fan-fiction-floozy@cutesyscreenname  @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl@feministfanboi@gracieispunk@prettypartyfavor@am-3-thyst@babeincolor@milla-frenchy@switchbladedreamz@within-the-depths@am-3-thyst@may-machin@pedromania91 @sloanexx@paleidiot