#cw forced fem

[bloodfin]

CW implied forcefem

Dew let it slip to Phantom that Rain likes to be bullied sometimes. Flip the script, so to speak. Conveniently leaves out how, though.

And one day the little bug is sitting on Rain's bed, kicking their feet, waiting for him to finish getting ready, when Dew's words start playing in their head.

"Damn cheap liner," Rain hisses to himself, snatching the sharpener from the counter again.

Rain is talking to himself, of course, but Phantom snaps their head up, a little smirk curling on their face.

"Dunno Rainy, seems like a skill issue to me."

Phantom feels their stomach drop when Rain turns towards them.

"Skill issue, huh?"

The way Rain's head is tilted is definitely predatory, something in their brainstem telling them to run.

They don't though, which is how they end up in front of the mirror, Rain behind them, growling about skill issues.

And when Phantom and Rain walk into the den forty minutes late, Phantom's face streaked with mascara and messy lipstick, the rest of the pack are smart enough to pretend not to notice.

[miasmaghoul]

Nun forced fem on either SwissDew or Raindrop

yeah sure here

(idk what this is its barely nsfw lmao uhhh warnings for forcedfem, religious fuckery, mention of safewords without use of them, mostly implied corruption kink)

"It suits you."

"Does it?" Rain smooths nervous hands over the front of his habit, flattening imaginary wrinkles. "It feels so..."

"Pious?"

Rain gives a hum - it's not the word he had in mind, but it isn't wrong. Rain adjusts his veil as he takes in his reflection, turning to take in every angle in his floor length mirror.

It's odd how bare he feels considering how little skin he can see. His face and hands stand out beautifully, pale and sharp against rich black wool. That's all the uniform reveals, though. Nothing about this ensemble could be called flattering, and yet Rain can't stop looking. Can't stop tracing the shape of his sleeves and frowning at the one stubborn curl poking out behind his ear. The rosary hanging from his belt clinks when he moves to tuck it away, silver and red beads glinting in the firelight.

"I was going to say severe," Rain murmurs, fingering the inverted silver cross hanging around his neck. "But...I suppose that works too."

He feels the need to speak softly like this, to keep his voice low and his words gentle. He isn't a particularly loud ghoul as it is, at least not often, but something about seeing himself look so...reserved demands it.

Rain licks his lips, and finds the sight of it in the mirror to be borderline obscene.

"And how does it make you feel?"

The words are followed by the creak of a chair and steady footsteps on hardwood, a confident but easy stride, and Rain's heart skips against his ribs. The footsteps stop beside him, in what should be his periphery, but their owner remains hidden by the starched edge of Rain's wimple. He can't make himself turn to look, occupied instead by watching splotches of pink bloom on his cheeks.

"I...I don't know," he admits, and it's the truth. There's an odd stew of feelings swirling around in his skull, a bizarre blend of shame, discomfort and the most blasphemous sort of pride. His fingers tremble as he tugs at the knot binding his belt, a mindless distraction.

"Take your time," flows into his ear, velvety smooth, "but I want an answer."

Rain nods, sighing as he lets his eyes slip shut. Just for a moment. Maybe two.

He really didn't think this would be so hard. He knew it would be different - how could it not be? - but the heaviness in his gut is so much more than he was prepared for. He's been dressed up a thousand ways from Sunday; lingerie, pretty dresses, elegant gowns and the sluttiest costumes Swiss could get his greedy hands on. He's worn makeup and press-ons, learned to walk in the highest heels and had his waist cinched by corsets until he was ready to faint.

It all pales in comparison to the simple garments he wears now.

"...small, I think," Rain practically whispers, once the words find his tongue. It's the closest thing he can think of to describe the tightness in his chest. "It's like..." Rain wrings his hands together, the motion obscured by his oversized sleeves. "It's like I don't belong in this."

"That's because you don't," comes his very amused reply, and a gentle weight settles against his forearm. Rain stares at that elegant hand in the mirror, wide eyes caught on the place skin turns to fitted sleeve. "That's part of the fun," that hand thightens, a rough thumb arching over the inside of his wrist, and that voice feels like a red hot poker when it adds, "Sister."

The word makes him gasp, makes his stomach flip, and Rain wobbles in place. Has to reach out to catch himself on the body beside him, and he earns a soft chuckle in response.

"Easy, easy."

Rain feels the words as much as he hears them, radiating through the palm he's planted in the center of a lightly muscled chest. He shivers when a warm hand rubs over his spine, a familiar motion that has completely different connotations right now.

"You're safe," he's promised, quiet and serious. "I've got you."

Rain nods, takes a deep breath as he pushes himself upright, but he can't make himself open his eyes. He knows what's waiting for him when he does, and some part of him doesn't want to see it. If he sees it, it's real. A fantasy made real - not his own, but one he's been eager to help fulfill for ages now. Ever since the night he wrung this desire out of the ghoul supporting him, had pulled the words from his throat with precise rolls of his hips and a perfectly placed hand on a long throat.

"I've got you," he's assured again, and it's so genuine that Rain can't hold back his whimper.

"Sorry," he huffs, shaking his head. "It's...it's a lot."

A hum answers him, a warm palm cups his cheek, and Rain leans into it easily. Soothed by familiar skin and spiced cologne that settles flayed nerves.

"Rain," he says, and it's so gentle that he almost cracks an eye open. Almost. "We don't have to do this. You know that."

He does. Of course he does. One word and he's out, done, able strip himself of fabric that feels far heavier than it truly is. It would be easy, and there's a first time for everything. The word sits on the tip of his tongue, just behind sharp teeth.

"I know," Rain breathes instead, finally straightening up and crossing his arms over his stomach, "I know."

The hand on his spine remains, grounding, and Rain focuses on the feel of it. Breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth until the tangled mess in his belly unravels, until the pressure in his head subsides. Until he can face the body beside him and brace himself for what he's about to see. One hand fiddles with his rosary, nervous energy poured into a silent prayer he says at every midnight mass.

He can do this.

He can do this.

When Rain opens his eyes, it's as devastating as he thought it would be.

"Oh," he sighs, hot from his scalp to the soles of his feet, and the soft smile it earns him makes Rain's chest hurt.

He doesn't know where to look, too many details for his already frazzled brain to absorb; the shiny tips of polished loafers, a perfectly fitted black cassock, a blood red stole embroidered with goat heads and a sharp collar. Rain's eyes stick there, glued to that simple white square, and every inch of him tingles in a way he can't explain.

"Satanas," he says without really meaning to, and Rain is immediately rewarded with the warmest chuckle.

"Blessed be," Dew replies, and Rain feels more of the tension drain from his shoulders. He tears his eyes from that little white square with great effort and finds the other ghoul's face lined with mirth. His copper eyes sparkle in the glow of the fire, and something about it makes Rain shiver.

"I'm sorry," he repeats, taking in every inch of that handsome face. Dew's pulled his hair back, tied it into a tight knot at the base of his skull, and all it does is make him look more authoritative. "I didn't -"

"Stop," Dew orders, one palm raised, and Rain has never fallen silent so quickly. That one little moment makes something familiar start to bloom at the back of his mind, and suddenly it's just a little easier to deal with the invisible weight on his shoulders. His eyelids feel just a little heavier.

"Sorry," Rain mumbles once more, but it's only out of habit. Dew ignores it, tips his head, and then that warm palm is back on his cheek and Rain has a fleeting thought about what his habit will look like once he's inevitably tenting it.

"Tell me you want this," Dew says, voice even. He strokes Rain's cheekbone with the tip of his thumb, and Rain wishes he would push it between his lips instead. "Tell me you want it," he says again, fingertips tracing the edge of his coif, "or we'll change and -"

"No," Rain interjects, more sudden than even he expects, grabbing at Dew's outstretched arm. The cassock feels so soft, somehow plush and warm against his fingers. "No, I - I do," Rain promises, too flustered to keep his voice from shaking, "for you, I - I want to -"

He's silenced by the pressure of one long finger against his parted lips, by a soft shushing noise, and then Dew's close enough that Rain can feel his warmth. He tilts his head up, gives Rain a hungry look, and Rain can't describe how miniscule it makes him feel.

"You'll tell me if that changes?"

"Yes," Rain promises, breathless, and he nods so urgently it nearly dislodges his wimple. "Yes, I promise."

As soon as the words escape him, as soon as Dew nods his acknowledgement, Rain swears he feels the air shift. That warm hand leaves his face as Dew backs away two steps, head held high. Rain feels unbearably cold in his absence, but he knows Dew will have him hotter than he can handle soon enough.

"Look at yourself," he instructs, nodding towards the mirror. "Tell me what you see."

Rain turns on autopilot. Swivels on his heels until he's facing himself once more, all harsh lines and dark fabric. He straightens his cross, his veil, and wonders how much redder his cheeks will be by the end of this.

"I see..." Rain licks his lips again, but he can't watch it this time. "I see...purity," he supplies at length, the word syrupy thick on his tongue. "I...I see innocence."

Rain wonders if Dew will make him look at himself like this afterwards too. Once he's been used up and drained dry, left woozy and weak and with nothing in him to argue. The thought makes him queasy as much as it makes him throb, and Rain stares at the spot on his habit that he knows his cock is starting swell behind.

"Do you?"

Footsteps again, intentional. Slow. Stalking up behind him, teasing fingers trailing along the edge of his veil just enough to feel. Dew appears in the mirror beside him, and the sight of the two of them together makes Rain's knees weak.

He's starting to get why Dew wanted this.

"Yes," Rain huffs, nodding once. There's a tingle caught in his spine, between his shoulder blades, a shudder he can't quite shake out.

"Yes what?" Dew asks.

"Yes, Father," he replies, a swift exhale, and Dew looks so very pleased at the way he sways.

"Well I've heard otherwise, dear Sister," he lilts, and then he's moving. Stalking slow circles around Rain a fox ready to tear into a particularly fat hen. "In fact," he adds, coming to a stop right in front of Rain. Reaching out to slip two fingers under his chin. Lifting his gaze so all he can see is Dew's neutral expression, wild eyes and that fucking collar. "There's a rumor going around that you're a regular Jezebel." Rain winces, and Dew gives him a falsely sympathetic smile. "A common whore masquerading as a lost little lamb in need of guidance."

"N-no," Rain whispers, giving his head the tiniest shake. "I - I promise, Father," he manages, already starting to get a little fuzzy around the edges. "I'm - I'm pure, I'm -"

Dew shushes him, and then he's gone. Floating away on sure feet and gliding back to his chair. Rain watches the way his cassock billows around his legs, catches glimpses of tight-fitted black slacks beneath it, and when Dew snaps his fingers Rain follows with silent obedience.

Dew looks positively regal in the oversized armchair he's pulled in front of the fireplace. He sits with his back straight and both hands folded on his lap. Rain doesn't think he's ever seen him look so powerful, so commanding of attention, not even on stage.

"Kneel, Sister," Dew commands. "Kneel and confess your sins." He tips his head and Rain's breath catches in his throat. "Kneel," he says, "and let me decide if you deserve forgiveness."

Rain drops so hard the floor shakes.

[belle--ofthebrawl]

I mean... We need a little spying fic now.. Swiss loves to watch his big boy get it on.. 👉👈

Perhaps not exactly what everyone is expecting...the course this follows was set down long ago. Forcedfem involving heels under the cut.

You know he does though. And when Aether picks up a package from the delivery truck, it's all very casual you know. Swiss only catches the anxious way his tail curls around itself because he knows the guy so well.

Alright, so it's a sex toy. He thinks, stalking Aether back to his rooms. Stepping quickly and quietly over the slats of the roof. He thinks about what Aether might want that he couldn't get from anyone else here. Really solid vibrations, probably. Swiss likes the real thing personally, but he can't deny the allure of a steady rumbling pressed right up against sensitive, swollen spots.

He doesn't even close his curtains. It's like he wants to be spied on. He closes his door, locks it even and just stands there. Holding that package to his chest with his eyes closed. Breathing steadily to calm his fluttering heart. He's so cute.

Aether sits down on his bed. Swiss lays down on his tummy, props his chin on his hands. The sun is warm against his back, the tiles perfect and hot on his skin. Such a nice day. Such a nice view. He wishes he had a blunt to really round the experience out as Aether cuts into the package, unwraps the brown paper away from the white box within, gingerly lifts the lid, and...

It's not a sex toy.

Instead it's a pair of... shoes? Small and black and shiny with an ankle snapping heel length for anyone inexperienced.

Of course Swiss knows immediately who they must be for. Someone just as small with dark eyes and a snappy nature for anyone who wasn't privileged enough to see his softer, more feminine side.

Swiss has to bite his lip in glee as Aether reverently holds the little heels up for inspection. No flaw, obviously. How much had he...how long had he spent searching...and other thoughts like that are quickly wiped away when Aether hugs the pair to his chest in one arm and tilts his head back in an obvious groan Swiss would give anything to hear. He knows what's going on up there, he's imagined it too. The way he would slip them on and hesitantly stand up. Wobble around like the delicate thing he is until he was caught up in a stronger pair of arms. The way his legs would look in them while they both pinned him, pleasured him.

Made her tell them what a pretty girl she was.

Aether's head hangs low now. His mouth hangs open. Swiss wonders giddily if he's going to drool on the shoes. Now or later. Satanas, he hopes he gets to watch. He already sees the expression of hopeless horror over Aether's shoulders as he kneels to slide one little shoe on first. Maybe he'll kiss the ankle, the calf. Up past the knee and make his thighs shake. Swiss is so lost in this perfect picture his mind paints for him he nearly misses it. How Aether holds one shoe to his cheek, like someone is already wearing it and he's no better than a footstool. He drops it quickly, like it burns him and Swiss snickers. Big guy is just as quick to pick it back up, check for any scuffs. Aether laughs at himself, a little chuckle. A little shake of his shoulders, or was that a shiver of nerves?

Swiss can see he's chubbing up from here. Can hardly blame him. What a feast he must be devouring in his mind, tearing into it without care. Swiss can't wait to count the bitemarks left behind and as Aether brings the shoe up to his cheek again, eagerly groping his cock, rocking his hips, Swiss settles in for long haul. In the name of information gathering, of course.

After all, he's a very considerate man. Wouldn't Aether like his help broaching the topic of those dangerous looking shoes with their delicate little Droplet? She can be such a a nervous girl, after all...

Sometimes she needs convincing.

[kabr0ztrousers]

if you're taking requests then how about pregnancy and tentacles together? the darker, the better

Ask and you shall receive, dear Anon! Hope this scratches your itch, and serves as a beacon to the rest of you wallflowers. I don't bite, and I don't judge. I just write porn

Kabr0z Writes episode 21: The Lake

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes Anthology here!

CWs: tentacles; impregnation; noncon; dubcon; emeto; all-the-way-through; kidnap;

####################################

The lake was always beautiful this time of year. The late-June sunset casting the forest in gold. Plus, with the closest other person an hour's drive away, you didn't even need a swimsuit. There was that one time a hiker nearly caught you, but that was pretty hot so you're not about to complain.

You slipped out of your clothes, and slipped into the cool water. It wasn't a long swim until the water was too deep to reach the bottom. Nothing but dark water below, nothing but sky above. Watching the sunset, floating on your back was always one of your favourite things to do this time of year.

Something brushed against you, probably a plant.

You went back to lounging in the fading light, allowing yourself to drift further to the centre of the lake. You didn't think anything of it until you started to tangle up. Not a big deal, you thought, it's hardly the first time you've had a foot get stuck. You reached down, damn this plant was tenacious. And thick. And had... Suckers?

The fuck?

Another tendril grabbed your wrist. This might not be a plant, after all.

It pulled you under.

The water blurred your vision, but you could still see the great coming up from the depths. Pulling you down. It didn't matter how much you pulled on the tentacles on your wrist or your ankle, the grip was too strong. Your lungs were burning. The surface getting further and further away.

Your vision went dark.

When you awoke, you were in a cave. Luminous lichen clinging to the walls, that's probably how there's air in here. Shallow pools of water dotted the room, reflecting the pale light. Something moved in the corner of your vision. You turned to look. Too late.

Tentacles shot out at you, grabbing your wrists, your ankles, around your waist. The suckers holding fast to your skin. You twisted and turned, to no avail. Every move allowed more limbs to grab at you, further limiting your movement.

More approached you, moving slowly now. Your legs were forced open as they went for your crotch. The first pushed in at your ass, slimy and dextrous. You screamed and thrashed, pulling in vain as the thick tentacle entered you. You could feel every one of the suckers as they pushed through your tight hole and as the limb fucked its way deeper and deeper.

Another went for your pussy, the assault on your asshole had got you wet and ready, even as you willed yourself to resist it. It slid in without a fight, filling you up immediately before exploring the inside of you. Suckers stimulating your clit as it stuffed more and more of itself into you, bringing you to a screaming, tearful orgasm. Your body was betraying you, quivering and bucking against the relentless thing pushing inside you.

The one in your ass wasn't stopping. You could feel it squirming around, emboldened by the movement and your screams of orgasm and horror. You could feel it pushing until it reached your stomach, then onwards.

It was coming up your throat.

You retched. Your gag reflex being triggered from the other end. Your pussy clamping down on its occupant as the one now in your throat was making its way up to your mouth, then poked out. It looked almost like a tongue, lewdly extended, end lolling in time with the other tentacle fucking you.

You couldn't scream now. It was all you could do to sneak air past the protuberance in your throat as it moved around in you.

The movement stopped. The tentacles tensed up inside you, then started to throb, getting wider. Your vision started to darken again as you felt fluid course through them. The one coming out of your mouth started spurting a thick, strong smelling liquid over you. You could feel the other one filling your cunt. Only one thing smelled like that. It was filling you with cum. Obscene quantities of it poured out onto your skin and into your womb. You could almost feel it knocking you up as darkness took over and it withdrew itself from you.

You don't know how long you've been here.

Trying to swim out just ends with those tentacles grabbing you and fucking you until you pass out again, plugging your throat so you don't drown. The water is drinkable, if a little stagnant. The lichen is edible, though the less said about its flavour the better.

The only way to know the passage of time is your belly, swollen and heavy from the beasts young growing inside you. You can feel it in your thoughts, trying to keep you here. Keep you from trying to escape.

It wants you to stay here and mother its children

Forever

[nanamis-bigtie]

and then i love putting them in skimpy lace panties that can barely fit them

i love giving big, fat dicks to all my faves

[lxvvie]

Simon being a girl dad got me on a chokehold to the point i wonder if he'd actively want to get his darling wife pregnant or it's something that just happens

either way, he probably tells her that he knows it's a girl in there. His reason? "Jus' so i can have two beautiful darlins in my life."

Believe it or not, I think it's the latter.

Simon never thought he'd have a wife to call his own—his job isn't family-friendly whatsoever—and sure, you two had multiple conversations about having children. Still, Baby Girl's conception really just happened. It was a pleasant surprise which gave Simon all the more reason to fight harder to come home.

The moment you two heard your baby's heartbeat, you fell in love. Simon's fallen so hard for you both that he doesn't even want to see a way up.

I can see Simon telling you off the jump that it's a girl. He believes it with his heart and soul. You laugh it off and joke that a boy or twins might be cooking in there, too, which earns you a snort.

But sure enough, it's baby Simone Riley in your belly playing tag with her dad.

[turtletaubwrites]

Numbers Game ~ Chapter 32

Make Your Bets Now!

Pairings: Cross Guild Polycule x Shanks x Fem!Reader x ???

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 12.6k+ 😳😳

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Chapter Tunes: A Forest ~ The Cure | Burn Your Village ~ Kiki Rockwell

Summary: The White Stag is chased through the woods. The hunters begin to show their true colors, while the prey just tries to survive. You might not be the only one running away.

Recap: The banquet is underway, and you were dressed as the White Stag. You met your nine suitors, some of whom came as a shock. You gave each hunter an arrow, a symbol of their right to claim you. Uncle Cedrick just gave you a ten minute head start.

Author's Note: Hi!!! Thank you so much for your patience while I've been dealing with all the things! I've still been writing, as you can tell by the word count! 😬 Lol, I did a poll way back when Shanks first arrived asking if y'all would prefer two regular size chapters with no smut in one, or one giant chapter with the smut. So here ya go, lol, you asked for it! 😅🤭

Content Warning: There's not much dark content to warn for this chapter (besides the usual Numbers Game shenanigans & Buggy's POV on the Dr. Vorsan visit), but I wanted to give a heads up that there is a flashback of the 14 year old reader having a crush on an adult. Nothing occurs, but there is some very mild creepiness that could be interpreted as inappropriate. I WILL NEVER write about minors in that way, so please know that this is just a teenage crush! In case you would like to skip that, I'll bracket it with these ~~~⚫~~~

Fic Updates & Questions:

I will be retroactively adding titles to all chapters. I prefer to have titles for every chapter of a fic, but decided not to add them when I thought this was going to be a one shot 🤦🏼‍♀️ (We're getting closer to the end, and outlining will be way easier if I can remember which chapter things happened in, lol.) I'm going with quotes/lines from the chapters for the title theme. Also, I only used "part" instead of "chapter" on tumblr for formatting space, but I always call them chapters so 🤷‍♀️

Since this is a reader insert fic (that I thought would be a one shot 😅), I've tried to keep as many personal details as vague as possible so that we can all hop onto that lovely, green couch. I'm not planning to state the reader's age within the fic, but as we get further into the story, some of you numbers girl's may be able to figure out the math based on the flashbacks and such. I have a whole ass timeline graphed out, so if anyone is interested in knowing the specific ages and dates of related OP canon and Numbers Game canon, I'd be down to make a separate post just for that.

Alternate POV Symbols:

🌲 ~ Reader | 🐊 ~ Crocodile | 🗡 ~ Mihawk | 🤡 ~ Buggy | 🔴 ~ Shanks | ⏰ ~ Flashbacks for listed POV | ⚫ ~ Scenes depicting Dark Content as listed in Author's Notes

!!! SPOILER WARNING !!! Fic currently contains spoilers for the end of the Wano arc. As we get further into Egghead Arc, there will be some spoilers (mainly from manga cover stories or SBS questions for minor characters' motivations, such as what the Vinsmoke's and Charlotte's have been up to since Wano, and why they'd want to marry our lovely heiress.)

Rating/Warnings: Author May Choose to Exclude some Warnings to Avoid Spoilers for Certain Chapters, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Use of Y/N, Dark Content, Blood & Violence, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Dissociation, Mental Illness, Grief, Toxic Family, Swearing, Alcohol, Cigars, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Guilt, Drama, Jealousy, Manipulation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Pain Kink, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Blowjobs, Threats, Relationship Drama, Anal, Doctors, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Uncle Cedrick Has Become His Own Warning, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“I told you to run.”

Uncle Cedrick wet his lips after he hissed at you again, smirking while you transformed for him, and for his silent hunters and cheering guests. 

The white stag. The hunted. The prey. 

You’d never felt less human than you did right now, and the sense of danger in the air sent you racing toward the trees. 

It was disorienting to move in this fumbling body. Some foul magic must have stolen your hooves, your graceful limbs, your fur to fend off the cool breeze of the night. 

All you had left were your antlers, but they couldn’t help you flee. You escaped your heels, kicking free from the tight shoes as though they were traps meant to hold you still for the hunters to find. The dress made you panic, the weight of it wearing you down like trash left to suffocate creatures too helpless to free themselves from human garbage. You tried to lift the heavy skirts while you ran, but the train dragged behind you, catching on roots and branches as you fled. 

Logic started to break through the adrenaline in bits and pieces, but the forest had pulled you into a dream.

“This isn’t a dream,” you panted to yourself, slowing down to lean against a tree. 

That wild panic had left you with no idea how long you’d been running, but your heart was trying to escape from your body, and your lungs struggled to catch up as you let yourself stop. 

That should be enough drama for Uncle’s show. Why should I care who catches me first? I have to date all of them anyway. 

And the fear was back. 

Nine men were about to stalk you through the woods at night, and you’d just run deeper into the darkness, like a fucking idiot.

Though you doubted that staying closer to the courtyard would have made you any safer. All of those leeches were here to watch the show. They’d probably already placed bets on which hunter would get his greedy hands on you first.

Don’t cry. 

You almost did. Every time you thought you could accept your fate, Uncle Cedrick found ways to make it more torturous, more humiliating. 

Apathy tried to protect you, a welcome friend that lulled your emotions to sleep until you stared into nothing, your logical mind reciting your thoughts on a loop to distract from what you were putting away.

I already gave the leeches a good show. It doesn’t matter who catches me first. 

Useless rage replaced your apathy in a flash at the memory of the traitor touching your skin. Shanks was the last man you wanted to catch you, but Uncle’s threats felt like hidden traps, like suffocating trash, like this stupid dress that snagged on every branch. 

I won’t give them anything else to hurt me with. 

Crashes and yells entered the forest like a storm, and you were the white stag again.

You ran. 

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

Shanks had only been gone for a day, but the clown found himself aching for him in a way he hadn’t in years. 

Letting Shanks back in had opened the door to all this shit he’d tried to stuff away, but he didn’t have room for all of these feelings right now. Not when his star was slurring her words, her voice high and distant while she tried to convince this fucking doctor that all their time together had meant nothing.

“It was all pretend. I was bored. I know it was risky behavior, I s-see that nn…”

“I’m glad you’re expressing that awareness, Y/N,” Dr. Vorsan’s voice bore down even through her frantic heartbeat, “but you still haven’t talked about the clown. It’s important that we understand our triggers so that we can prevent future episodes.”

She’s not breathing!

“You don’t want to have any more episodes, do you, Y/N?”

“No,” she agreed, though Buggy barely heard her over her now ragged breath. 

“Good. Part of staying well means cooperating with your treatment,” the slimeball purred. “Why did you go with the clown?”

“He was sweet. And funny... I liked him.”

Buggy looked to the ceiling, unknowable emotions pulling his face into a grimace. 

“You just told me that it was all pretend. That you were bored.”

“I, yes…”

“Clarity, Y/N,” the pompous creep scolded. “We can’t make changes if we don’t acknowledge our patterns. Why did you go with the clown?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Buggy growled.

The next words he heard had to be from her lips, but it sounded wrong, as though she’d been possessed by the concept of emptiness itself. His star was hollow. 

Gone. 

“I used him. I wanted to run. I’m selfish.”

No, baby, don’t say that.

The fucker didn’t say anything for too long. He couldn’t hear any rustling, only his empty star, breathing just enough to keep her alive. 

“Your family was very worried for you. That extreme, self destructive behavior—“

“I know,” Y/N snapped, then Buggy heard the sound of skin against skin, as though she’d slapped her hand over her mouth. “I’m s-s-sorry, doctor, I…”

“It’s quite, alright, Y/N,” the man fucking chuckled. “You’ve just experienced an episode that must have caused some additional trauma, but you’re safe now.”

Buggy hadn’t taken notes, and he looked down to find a shredded notepad on his lap, his shaky hands clenching into the paper. 

“Do you want to be safe?”

“Yes, doctor,” Y/N stated, the gravity of a black hole in her voice. 

“Was it safe to run away with pirates?”

What the fuck is he doing to her? 

“No.”

“Good. Now, tell me about the clown.”

Circles and circles of this talk spun through Buggy’s mind, and it seemed like nothing was said, yet he could hear his star break a little more with every word. 

“I’ll rip his tongue out, baby. Make him eat it for you. Don’t listen to him.”

“Excellent work today. Self reflection is difficult, but it’s the only way to heal.”

“Thank… Thank you, doctor.”

“There’s no need to thank me. You have the power to stay well all on your own, as long as you put in the work to take care of yourself. Just try to remember the kind of life you wish to have. You don’t want to lose yourself in another episode, do you, Y/N?”

“No, doctor.”

The clown laid in silence for hours while his broken lover did the same. Somehow Y/N built herself up again, preparing to head to dinner with her sister, and her voice was almost as clear as it had been before the session. 

She keeps all of this inside… I didn’t even—

“Come on, little clown. Don’t eat dinner on the floor again.”

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

The Emperor of the Sea followed an usher to his seat, feeling high as he twirled the decorative arrow in his fingers. He was lucky to have made it in time, and luckier still that Y/N had looked at him like that. Shanks was sure that it wasn’t really lust in those magnetic eyes of hers. Buggy’s fallen star was difficult to read, but it had to be a message. An opening. 

I’ll get you out of here, Y/N. 

Even Benn’s smirking face couldn’t diminish the flames she’d warmed in him, his first mate pulling his seat out while he approached. The last few tables at the edge of the courtyard seemed filled with guests that were either late or large, the nearest competitor being the two story tall Prince Fukaboshi. 

Before Shanks could greet his rival, Sylvad’s voice carried through the night air, testing the Emperor’s ability to fake a smile. 

“Thank you all for joining our family as we celebrate the hunt for a new member! I am honored to help strengthen the Sylvad legacy by making sure that my enchanting niece finds the most loving, and of course, the most profitable match,” he admitted with a smug laugh. “Just as this marks the beginning of a new era for our family, I’m sure that most of you have sensed the shift in the waters.”

Cedrick paused for effect with Y/N posed like some pretty doll at his side while his guests murmured in agreement.

“For generations, the Sylvad’s have stood in enthusiastic support of the Marines. Although I still pay them an exorbitant amount to show up when I call, their many recent failures, and acts of overreaching, have shown them to be nothing more than expensive, and exceedingly annoying guard dogs.”

The laughter he drew was mixed, both nervous and pleased, and Shanks was sure he wasn’t the only one to catch the threat in those playful words. 

“The world is changing, and I intend to keep my family strong, even if we have to shoo the seagulls away,” he vowed with enough humor to keep the mood light. “But enough about all that, we’re here to enjoy ourselves. Let’s welcome in the New Era together with a good old fashioned hunt!”

Confusion was clouded by the applause Cedrick had demanded with his gestures and tone after he offered Y/N a hand. Watching that man touch her had Shanks’ jaw clenching, holding himself back while she truly looked like prey under his smirking grin.

“I think our white stag is feeling a bit skittish, but that's nothing a little chase can't fix. The first hunter to catch her claims the first date!”

Shanks watched in horror as Cedrick led his niece to the edge of the courtyard, speaking to her too softly to hear before she ran toward the trees, stumbling in that fucking costume he’d stuffed her into. 

Benn nudged his ankle, stopping Shanks from finishing his movement. Gryphon was on the ship anyway, and he wasn’t sure what use his sword would do other than to comfort his helpless soul.

I’m a villain now. Maybe I should just kill everyone here. 

He chugged the glass of wine in front of him, as though swallowing the liquor could help him swallow the layers of guilt that made no sense to him.

The bright light of that wounded star disappeared into the trees, but there was no reprieve. A large, white canvas was rolled out over the side of the manor walls while servants pushed a massive transponder snail on a wheeled cart up the path. The courtyard was silent until the snail’s eyes flickered, its mouth open as sounds of heavy breathing and snapping twigs came through before the live feed was projected. 

Two images appeared on that blank wall, bringing gasps and applause from the guests while Sylvad preened.

“In ten minutes,” he announced, doing a flourish as a timer popped up on the frantic screen, “the hunt for the white stag begins. The man that touches her first wins the hunt, and will earn the first private date tomorrow evening, as well as the pleasure of dining with the lovely doe tonight.”

The lovely doe in question was panting as she kicked off her heels, running barefoot through the woods. On the left was a jostled scene of darkness and trees, but as she looked down to lift her skirts, it was clear that a cam snail must be on her head, maybe hidden in those antlers. The second image continued to flip, showing her running and struggling through the brush from endless angles. 

Does he have a surveillance snail on every fucking tree on this island?

“What a strange courtship custom,” Prince Fukaboshi noted quietly, although his size let the words carry enough for Shanks to let out a sharp laugh, smiling up at the merman to cover his anger before Sylvad continued.

“You may woo my niece however you like, so long as it doesn’t cause her unsalvageable harm, or remove her from this island. I won’t have my vacation home turned into a war zone, so do watch your violence. I know that some of you have had disagreements in the past, but let’s keep the fighting to a minimum unless it’s part of a game, alright lads? We wouldn’t want to spoil the fun for everyone.”

Leeches…

Servants came around to all the tables to take bets from the guests while the courtyard followed the white stag’s every, panicked step. 

Hawk was right, this security is something else.

“This isn’t a dream.”

“Aww, isn’t she a darling,” a diamond-studded, older woman crooned, inspiring more guests to make noises about how precious she looked while she caught her breath, eyes blank as she leaned against a tree. 

“You’re gonna catch that little bunny, aren’t ya, Captain?”

Shanks let out a breath, finally breathing, when he met his first mate’s gaze. Benn was steady, the curve of his lips and shine of his eyes hiding the intensity from those that didn’t know him, but his captain recognized the look. 

It’s time to get serious.

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🤡🗡️~~~

Easy silence wrapped around the three men during dinner, interspersed with deep, hushed voices, and the scratching of Buggy’s pen while he doodled. He couldn’t help but feel thankful for the less noteworthy hours that had passed since his star had met with the doctor. 

“Zala checked in,” Crocodile reported between bites. “Guess she wasn’t suited to the restaurant business after all.”

“That’s Miss Doublefinger, yes?”

“Not anymore,” he sighed at Mihawk’s question. “Zala used to work well with Daz Bonez, and she’s investigating Dr. Vorsan. Refused to help without bringing Marianne along though… Ms. Goldenweek.”

“The child,” Mihawk questioned, giving a gentle tilt to his head. His lover seemed to get touchy when his old organization was brought up. 

“She’s eighteen now,” came the curt answer, although the larger man almost smiled at those damn, golden eyes. 

“Uncle ChodeTick’s talking to her, taking a walk,” Buggy reported, guilt cutting them off before they could get too flirty. The clown scribbled his notes, the easy silence less easy now. 

Mihawk’s lifetime of dedication to becoming the strongest did nothing for him now. All he could do was watch every subtle, pained expression on Buggy’s face while he suffered, the bravest of them all. 

“The agents are infiltrating the asylum the doctor runs when he’s not fucking with our girl,” Crocodile shared, his voice hushed. 

“Sending a teenager to infiltrate an insane asylum? You are ruthless, aren’t you,” Mihawk flirted lightly. He was learning this man, and for the first time he wasn’t making excuses about why. His tone paid off, and he smirked at the playful look on that scarred face.

“Marianne‘ll be fine, I’m sure she’s looking forward to art therapy. Plus, Zala will— what’s wrong, Buggy?”

The clown gestured for silence while his face went red with rage, listening to the rules, and the threats that her monster of an uncle was caging his star with. 

“FUCK!!”

The nearly empty plates and glasses went flying as Buggy flipped the table, his body shaking in every direction, unable to sit with himself for another second.

“I’m pathetic! I can’t help her. I can’t fucking do ANYTHING!”

Crocodile and Mihawk caught as many pieces of him as they could, and wrapped themselves around Buggy until he breathed again, holding most of his body between them. 

“Don’t say that, Buggy.”

“Shh, little clown. You’ve done enough.”

“He’s gonna make her…” Buggy barely managed to choke out the sound, glad that the asshole had left her alone already. One more word from his lips would have made the him explode. 

Her words were worse though. 

“She said she’s gonna fuck the ones she…” He cried out between their now stiff bodies. “He threatened her with… She has to…”

“She has to do what, Buggy,” Crocodile asked, amazed at how steady his voice was while he knelt down to meet the clown’s tired eyes. He kept his hand stroking along his side, that body slumping instead of flying apart now. 

He couldn’t say it, exhaustion making the clown sway against Crocodile’s touch before he floated his hand toward the mess he’d made of the table. Mihawk caught the notepad, his eyes going apocalyptic as he read over Cedrick’s “rules” for the games.  

The swordsman wanted to fly into violence and rage, to turn to ice, and make everything in his path disappear. 

But Buggy’s eyes made him pause, the words on the page having too many consequences, too much weight. 

“Buggy, she said this in anger, did she not? I doubt she’ll really—“

“You didn’t hear him,” Buggy snapped, starting to float and pace while Crocodile read the notes. The clown snatched the notepad off the floor after the scarred man dropped it, his hand shaking with rage. 

“He’s twisted,” Buggy continued.

“He’s dead,” came a rough voice, the fury of a sandstorm barely contained in that vow. 

“Yes, he is,” Mihawk promised as he reached for Buggy. He pushed that lovely, blue hair behind the remaining ear, almost smiling at the ear plug he found. “We will get her out of there, but we need you sane. If our little rabbit needs to take care of herself, we’ll find a way to keep you—“

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Buggy floated just out of reach, glaring down at the swordsman as though he’d started speaking some alien language. 

“You shouldn’t have to listen to that, little clown,” Crocodile soothed, resting his own rage when he realized what Mihawk was saying. “If it happens, we’ll make it loud over here so you can’t hear, or you could—“

“You want me to shove my fingers in my ears while her screams echo through the halls,” Buggy hissed. His anger was building up around him, heating the air, strangling any sense of peace from the room as those old words hit their mark. 

The two monsters under his glare froze, shame stunning them into silence. 

“You think I said I’d rather watch you fuck my star into oblivion just for FUN,” he seethed, his eyes going manic while he floated above them. “I’m a sick fuck, and ended up having flashy, old time, but that’s not why I had to watch.”

He was that frightening showman again, and they were drawn into his act. 

“I’m sorry, Bug—“

“I made myself watch while you took her from me,” he recalled in an almost sing-song voice that chilled the other men’s blood. “I watched and watched, because… I have to listen because…”

The crack in his own voice made him waver, dipping in the air a bit while he stared at the pained faces of these terrifying men. 

“What if they hurt her?”

Silence clashed with the cacophony inside their minds until Crocodile reached toward the clown again, gripping into his shoulder, and sending fear flashing through him while their faces grew closer. 

“We’ll kill them.”

“B-but–”

“Come on, brave, little clown,” Crocodile breathed over his trembling lips. “Why don’t you show me all your toys, huh? How many Buggy Balls would it take to blow up that whole fucking island if we need to?”

As they sighed, falling into the relief of distraction together, Mihawk sank against the wall, becoming nothing more than a threatening statue. He could have tried to grab onto the lifeline his lovers had just created, that comforting moment of camaraderie in violence while the clown indulged in and shared one of his favorite topics.

Yet, the swordsman couldn’t let it go. 

His little rabbit, forced to bed her captors again. 

She’s strong. She’s wicked. She’ll enjoy herself. Then we’ll get her back.

The fear that Y/N might enjoy herself enough to not want to return left Mihawk sick. He had to step outside, wandering down to the garden he’d barely thought of since she was no longer there to smell it on him. 

He found himself fisting into the dirt in that walled garden, huffing a laugh when he smelled the faint, sour scent on his fingers before wiping them on his pants. Red flashed in his mind, and the ex-Warlord sat in the dirt, wishing that love and trust were as simple to cultivate as the garden he’d been too preoccupied to plant. 

“I trust you,” Mihawk whispered to his red haired lover across the sea. The thought of how insufferable Shanks would be if he ever uttered those words in front of him brought a soft smile to his lips. “Please, bring her back. I need her by my side.”

~~~🐊🤡🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Time was a human construct, and as your ungraceful body ran like the prey he had transformed you into, you couldn’t tell how long it took for the yells and crashes to race toward you. 

Eternity. 

One fucking second.

A clearing appeared before you, but as you stepped into the open space, an impossible man filled up your world. He knelt down, still towering over you, and all the sounds of chaos in the forest faded while his crimson eyes asked for permission.

Katakuri reached for you, his massive hand outstretched, but he didn’t grab you. 

There was no way you could describe the subtle shift in those stunning eyes when you lifted your hand to take his, but they went wide before you made contact, his hand shooting out impossibly fast behind you. The giant of a man wasn’t fast enough, and cold fear poured through you before you had a warm body wrapped around yours from behind.

“I’ve got you, bunny,” Shanks purred, breathing a little hard as he pressed his lips against your ear. His arm was wrapped around you, holding you tight, as though you were a prize the others would try to tear from his grip. 

You wished they would.

“If we were allowed to wear our raid suits we would have–”

“Don’t complain, brother,” a taunting voice floated through the trees while Shanks looked you over, never taking his hand off of you while he guided you through the trees. “We’ll have plenty more chances. Our little bride likes being hunted, remember? You heard what the old man said about the Cross–”

A strange noise left your throat when Shanks bent down to wrap his arm under your thighs, lifting you up over his shoulder before running too fucking fast. Running until you saw the lovely lanterns again, until the courtyard came into view.

Your own bedraggled image was spread across the outer wall of the manor, the huge snail showing two screens that flashed through replays of your pathetic race and capture. It showed a few highlights of the hunters, including Shanks smashing through what looked like a wall of giant crackers, and Iceburg crawling on the ground in the wrong direction. Now they displayed various angles of the winner carrying his prize.

Shanks was surreal. No one cheered for the slab of meat he’d claimed, not when the Emperor of the Sea looked like some dark god of the forest, a hero bringing home a feast to his starving people.

The image had you closing your eyes, playing into the exhaustion so you wouldn’t have to look at him anymore. 

“Red Haired Shanks, everyone,” Uncle announced as he slowed the audience’s applause, and you opened your eyes to find him beside you, leading your captor to the head table. “The emperor has earned the first private date tomorrow evening, as well as the seat of honor tonight. I hope everyone worked up an appetite.”

I’m not here.

Both men had their hands on you while they propped you up between them, and you faced the courtyard to find the ravenous guests practically drooling over the sight of your torn and dirty dress. Thankfully your back was to the screen, so you didn’t have to keep watching yourself stumbling through the dark. 

The stragglers made their way back, and your mind kept spacing, floating while your torturers chatted, until dinner arrived. 

Servants carried a long stretch of table over the stone path, “ooh’s” and “aah’s” making you more nauseated the closer it got, until they laid out the mythical beast before you. 

Your uncle had caught a white stag. 

He had caught it, killed it, and was laughing while its dead eyes stared at you, its useless antlers like some tragic centerpiece. Uncle Cedrick ordered its flesh to be passed to every plate, so that each of his friends might share in his auspicious meal. 

“Here’s to those with the heart of a hunter,” he toasted. “May your arrows always hit their mark.”

Every bite they took tore through your own skin, the slow prey gone still while the pack of wolves enjoyed their meal. An animal again, your mind was incapable of reason or words, but even the soul of the deer could feel this truth pulsing deep within the bones that the monsters hadn’t yet picked clean.

You would not survive this. They were going to devour you whole.

~~~

“Y/N? Sis? Are you okay?”

Some part of you that only existed for your sister reacted to the worry in her voice, blinking up at her while she carefully pulled the antlers off of your head. Another image of the deer’s mutilated body flashed through your mind as you watched her hold them to her chest before turning away, hurrying toward the door. You stared, thoughts thankfully leaving your mind while she threw the cursed antlers down the corridor.

“Are you okay,” she checked in again when she returned her gentle fingers to your hair.

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat, voice coming out raw. “Where is everyone?”

“I’ll get you cleaned up,” Kat assured. Her sharp eyes were wider than normal, but your urge to comfort her couldn’t break through your exhaustion, your delirium. “I didn’t think you’d want all the servants around.”

Gratitude swelled with the lump in your throat while Kat’s soft fingers transformed you, bringing you back to humanity. 

“I’m sorry he’s still such an asshole to you,” your sister breathed, starting to clean the scrapes that littered your legs and feet. “Running through the forest like… You’re getting married, not hunted. He didn’t need to make it so… I’m sorry.”

“Married,” you gave a tired laugh, closing your eyes before you went down the spiral. A hiss left your lips, your body jolting when she dabbed at a particularly unpleasant scrape.

“I’m going to call Dr. Gilli,” Kat announced, stopping you from digging your nails into your thighs. “No one else, and I’ll stay with you, okay?”

“No pills. No shots,” you ordered, too frantic to care about holding it in. 

“Of course not,” she sighed when your breathing started to calm. “I just don’t want to be responsible for your legs falling off from infection. Is that alright with you, sis?”

“Fine.” The slight teasing Kat had managed to put in her tone made your lips twitch, but that hint of relief took all of your energy. Your sister stayed with you, holding your hand while the family doctor looked you over.

Dr. Gilli had always been sweet to you, but the sight of your blood on her gloves while she gushed about how beautiful you looked, and how lucky you were to have such a romantic engagement, made you want to kick that sweet face in. 

“Thank you, doctor,” Kat frowned, shooing the woman out just in time before you punched her in the throat for asking you about babies. 

Kat helped you into bed, crawling in beside you like you were kids again. 

You used to be the big sister. Four years had always felt like such a big gap, especially with everything you had tried to protect her from. 

Until you couldn’t even protect yourself, and Kat had to become the big sister. 

Gratitude and guilt over that fact could never balance out, and as much as you loved her and needed her right now, you ached for her to leave so you could break down. 

Instead, slow tears stained your pillowcase while her comforting presence held you in a quiet cage. 

“It’s only a month,” she whispered while she stroked your hair. “We’re going to find the best husband for you, and then you’ll take over the company. I know it’s scary, but I believe in you, Y/N, just like dad did… I know you’re ready, and I’ll be right here with you.”

Kat’s misplaced trust froze you for what felt like hours, but somehow you fell asleep. Your name echoed through a storm while you watched the wolves tear into her flesh, helpless to keep your sister from the starving beasts.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

For a split second upon waking on the morning of the banquet, Buggy’s first thought hadn’t been panic for her absence, but a hum of pleasure at the warmth surrounding him. 

Guilt sent him flying into pieces to escape Crocodile and Mihawk’s arms, and they blinked up at him as though they’d forgotten her too. Buggy only relaxed when he saw the reality of the day harden their faces. 

Another day full of hushed voices, and waiting. Scribbled notes, and stifled comfort. Fear, and an unsteady hope that Shanks would be the hero again. 

~~~

“What’s this,” Buggy growled at the wide eyed, young pirate that had set down a bright blue cocktail on Y/N’s desk. He’d found himself sitting there tonight, updating the other men while the suitors were introduced, and he closed his eyes to stay focused on the muffled voices. 

The clown had started to panic earlier when his star was told to leave her locket behind, almost losing her because his gift didn’t fit the “theme.” She must have stuffed it into her dress from the way her heart thumped even louder within him, and he coughed to fight the heat in his throat.

I’m here, baby. I’ve got you.

“You like sweet drinks, don’t you?”

Buggy jolted, pretending that surprised squeak hadn’t just left his throat before he met Crocodile’s eyes across the room. 

“Y-yeah,” Buggy frowned, but he avoided the collection of garnishes and tiny umbrellas to take a sip from the curly straw. He found the taste of pineapple, coconuts, and sooo much sugar, covering up the rum that he most definitely needed. “Thanks.”

The scarred man raised a brow, and Mihawk’s soft chuckle from his own desk added to the shiver going up Buggy's spine.

They’re trying to distract me… 

“Thanks, daddy,” Buggy corrected, almost smiling at that frightening, but pleased face until her voice filled with hope.

‘Mr. Iceburg?’

“Mr. Iceburg,” he repeated while her heart went wild. 

“Iceburg,” Crocodile asked quietly, looking at his own notes. “From Galley La? He wasn’t on the list…”

“She knows him already,” Buggy reported. He tried to let it mean nothing. “She likes him.”

“Of course, Sylvad’s has had ties with Water 7 for generations,” Crocodile nodded, rubbing his hand over his face. 

“She may like him, but she loves you,” Mihawk startled him as he appeared beside her desk. “Don’t forget.”

“I’d never forget that,” Buggy snapped, sighing when wicked fingers teased over his tense shoulders, helping him focus.

He focused on her breath, her heart, while she met all the men vying to touch her, to take her. He focused on trying not to freak out the longer the night went on without hearing that familiar, heroic voice. Their best chance.

“Something’s wrong,” Buggy rasped, hardly hearing Crocodile's chair thump onto the new carpet over the deafening silence of his star forgetting to breathe. It seemed like her heart had stopped beating, until her uncle’s grating voice came through, and then it pounded like a bird smashing itself against a window to try to escape.

“The clothes suit you well, Emperor.”

“I had no idea that fashionable friends could be so generous,” Shanks charmed, his voice a miracle. “Or that I’d have the pleasure of meeting such a gorgeous, little bunny again so soon. Sorry, you're a gorgeous, little doe, aren’t you?”

“It’s Shanks,” Buggy shared, almost jealous of the relief that washed over their faces before he closed his eyes to the world again.

Shanks played the roguish pirate to perfection, and Buggy had no notes for his performance. Even muffled, Sylvad’s voice was clearly satisfied, eating up the Emperor’s words. 

“Red Hair made it? He’s a suitor?”

The soft questions ripped Buggy’s eyes open, and the relief he still saw there made him sick. 

“She hates him.”

“What do you–”

“Who does she–”

“She HATES SHANKS!” 

Buggy didn’t notice when he’d flown into pieces, but he floated erratically before them, trying to understand, trying to explain. 

“How… She didn’t say that out loud, did she,” Mihawk asked after a pause, studying his movements. 

“Why would she hate him,” Crocodile mused. His silver eyes stripped him down as he stepped too close.

“How the fuck would I know,” Buggy yelled, horror filling his veins at the way her heart seemed to fight itself in its cage. “This is how she sounds when she’s with Uncle ShitFuck, or that fucking doctor! She hates Shanks. She HATES HIM! What are we gonna do?”

“Shh, shh, darling,” Mihawk breathed, catching Buggy’s face in both hands while his body still flew through the air. “Y/N thought he was going to steal you from her. If she hasn’t forgiven him, then we’ll just have to find another way.”

“But she–”

Every floating piece of him stuttered in the air when cruel lips kissed his so sweetly. 

“I am long overdue for a hunting trip,” the swordsman teased over his skin, twisting those wicked fingers into his hair. “Having all three of us here is a waste. I’ll go thin out the competition.”

“No.”

The refusal was deep, yet gentle, and that scarred face towered over them both while Crocodile tugged at Mihawk’s chin. 

“We’re not doing that. We can’t go against her wishes, not until we know why she’s doing this.”

Buggy felt pain searing behind his eyes while he tried to listen to two things at once: Cedrick Sylvad’s speech, and the moral dilemma of these ex-Warlords.

“I agree,” Mihawk said evenly, barely sparing a glance while Buggy brought his body back together beside him. “But these men want our little rabbit, and her illustrious name for their own reasons. If it’s possible to convince the worst of them to drop out, then we should try.”

“Are you running away again,” Crocodile sighed, the pressure in the air making Buggy want to sink to the floor.  

“Don’t worry, daddy,” Mihawk purred, expertly slicing through all the tension in the room. “I have a spare earpiece snail, so you can scold me all you like while I’m away.” 

‘Did you hear me,’ Cedrick seemed to hiss at Buggy, swimming in guilt for falling into the distraction of the men before him. 

“Chase?”

“What is it,” Mihawk checked in, scanning his face. 

“No,” the clown paused, more endless horror pouring into him. He had to step away, the sounds of her panic while she raced through the woods sending him into helpless rage. The other men let him feel into it, until he rounded on them again. 

“They’re hunting her like an animal,” Buggy seethed, flinching at the sound of his star falling, panting, pushing herself on. “She’s terrified, she’s– Fuck this!”

A wave of sand hit the door before Crocodile blocked his path, only fueling that need to protect her. 

“Marines on call. Germa Kingdom. Big Mom Pirates. Fishman royalty. And we still don’t know what kind of security forces Sylvad keeps on the island, not to mention whatever the Concealer keeps around him, or the President of Galley La,” the larger man listed, his voice firm, but going soft when he touched Buggy’s cheek. “The second you hear our sweet girl ask for help, or say that she doesn’t wanna be there, I will drain them all to dust… but we still don’t know what he has on her. She told us she wanted to go.”

‘This isn’t a dream…’

In a trance, the clown let the other men lead him to that flashy, green couch, his notepad and fruity drink set up on the new coffee table while he slumped into her spot between them. 

“Shanks got her,” he reported, unable to share in their relief with the sound of her strangled breaths so loud in his head. He could barely hear a thing in her world now, the muffled voices beyond theirs were too difficult to make out, especially when another heartbeat filled his mind. His old friend must have been carrying her, and the sound of both of their hearts pounding so close made his gloves damp when he rubbed at his tired eyes. 

“Don’t worry,” Mihawk tugged at him gently until Buggy curled in against his exposed chest. The swordsman didn’t recoil from the faded paint, or the hot tears that streaked down his skin the longer the clown let himself stay there. “If our little rabbit doesn’t trust our hero, then we’ll just convince the rest of the suitors to give up the hunt.”

“Try not to start any wars, little prince,” Crocodile hummed, setting his massive hand over Mihawk’s where it was resting on Buggy’s thigh. 

“War is tedious. I am looking forward to a peaceful life,” Mihawk vowed, stroking Buggy’s hair while the man let exhaustion relax him deeper into his lap. “We just need to retrieve our lovers first.”

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“Oh sweetie, you look so–”

“Take a bite.”

Mom’s too shiny smile hardened slightly before she tasted your oatmeal, avoiding the servants that hovered around you in clouds of makeup and hair spray. 

“You’re about to have brunch with your suitors,” she reminded you when you snatched the food from her, practically inhaling it before more pencils or brushes could touch your lips. “Don’t you think it will look strange if you don’t eat with them?”

“You don’t seem to care how strange it looks to sell off your own daughter,” you laughed, noticing a servant’s eyes widen just a fraction when they took your empty bowl. “I’m cooperating, but I will not be leaving my food or drinks unattended until I feel safer. You want your child to feel safe, don’t you, mother?”

“I found some,” Kat beamed when she barged through the door, waving a deck of playing cards above her head. She tossed it to you, and you gasped, surprised that you caught it from the air before it could hit one of the staff. Thankfully, the full skirted dress you’d been stuffed into this morning had pockets, so you tucked your little game away, forcing your mom to taste the rest of your breakfast before the brunch dates began.

But Kat was making that face. Little sister face. 

“What’s that,” you gestured toward the item she had tried to conceal when she sat across from you, tucking it behind her body.

“Just some trash I found in the hall. Do you want some more coffee?”

“Give it,” you ordered, giving her big sister face.

“It’s nothing we didn’t already know, okay? So just…”

“At least I’m not the only one being used,” a sharp laugh left your throat. “How much berry do you think he’s making off of this game?”

Mom ordered the staff to leave before leaning toward Kat, and didn’t whisper quietly enough on her way out.

“Brunch is about to start. Make sure she looks presentable.”

“Can’t sell me off if I'm not pretty, can you?”

“Y/N,” she started, looking convincingly hurt, but Kat got her out of the room before either of you could make it worse. 

You stared at the “trash” in your lap, the crisp scent of expensive ink and paper filling your lungs while you examined the brochure. 

‘Which Hunter Will Claim Her?’

That tantalizing question was scrawled across every page, while the nine suitors each had their own section, their profile, their face, and a stupid little quote about winning you. This barbaric game was disguised behind a snooty font spread over images of dappled sunlight through Sylvad trees, and decorated with arrows and leaves.

Cedar leaves.

You wanted to tear it to shreds, but you were pulled in, studying every detail.

~~~~~~

~~~~~~

Giberson

Age: Couldn’t Recall

Height: Misplaced Measurements

Birthday: August 14th

Title: “Warehouseman”

Favorite Food: Rye Whiskey

How he plans to win: “I’m sure the lovely lady and I will have a delightful time. You don’t get to be my age without learning a few tricks.”

~

Ichiji

Age: 21

Height: 186 cm (6'1")

Birthday: March 2

Title: Prince of the Germa Kingdom

Favorite Food: Strawberries and Whiskey

How he plans to win: "I’m a Vinsmoke."

~

Niji

Age: 21

Height: 185 cm (6'1")

Birthday: March 2nd

Title: Prince of the Germa Kingdom

Favorite Food: Blueberries and Scotch

How he plans to win: “She’s coming with us. If I don’t win, there’s two more Vinsmoke’s.”

~

Yonji

Age: 21

Height: 194 cm (6'4")

Birthday: March 2

Title: Prince of the Germa Kingdom

Favorite Food: Green Peas

How he plans to win: “I wouldn’t mind ending up with a woman like her, so I’m gonna turn her into a princess.”

~

Iceburg

Age: 40

Height: 199 cm (6'6")

Birthday: January 3

Title: President of the Galley-La Company, and Mayor of Water 7

Favorite Food: Curry Made by an Old Friend. A Drunk, Old Friend.

How he plans to win: “Mm, well... I suppose I’ll win because I know her best.”

~

Fukaboshi

Age: 24

Height: 604 cm (19’10”)

Birthday: February 4th

Title: Prince of the Ryugu Kingdom

Favorite Food: Abalone Steak

How he plans to win: “I hope that she carries peace in her heart. If she does, I will stop at nothing to earn her love.”

~

Cracker

Age: 45

Height: 307 cm (10'1")

Birthday: February 28th

Title: Sweet Commander of the Big Mom Pirates, and the Minister of Biscuit

Favorite Food: Biscuits. Dislikes Kimchi and Carbonated Drinks.

How he plans to win: “Easy. I’ll outdo them all.”

~

Katakuri

Age: 48

Height: 509 cm (16'8½")

Birthday: November 25th

Title: Sweet Commander of the Big Mom Pirates, and the Minister of Flour

Favorite Food: Doughnuts. Dislikes hot ramen.

How he plans to win: “I will win because I must.”

~

Shanks

Age: 39

Height: 199 cm (6'6")

Birthday: March 9

Title: Emperor of the Sea

Favorite Food: Kimchi Fried Rice and Lobster. Dislikes Blueberries.

How he plans to win: “Just gonna show the cutie a good time.”

~~~~~~

‘Make Your Bets Now!’

Kat was right. You knew that the audience was enjoying the game, gambling while you just tried to survive, trying to secure the least abhorrent future that you could. 

“Venison…”

“Heeyyy,” Kat fumbled through positivity as she pulled the brochure from your white-knuckled grip. “At least we know how tall they are now!”

“I love you,” you thanked her, amazed that you could still laugh.

~~~

“Such pretty, little fingers… I hope I pass your test.”

“It’s not a test,” you lied, shuffling cards instead of tearing the old man’s eyes out. “Just a game.”

“It has to be the Queen of Hearts,” Giberson winked over his Bloody Mary.

“It’s the Four of Diamonds.”

“So you are choosing the next winner,” he scolded lightly when your prediction was revealed.

“How could I possibly choose when I have so many charming options,” you reminded him as you pushed the deck across the table so he could shuffle for himself. You weren’t ready to pick and choose between these hunters. There’d been no time to feel them out. 

So they had to guess.

The lighthearted brunch felt anything but with so many eyes on your skin, especially with Uncle’s giant projector snail that blew up your image across the building again. All the smaller snails circled around you, their slow, unreal eyes reminding you how trapped you were.

Always trapped.

“That’s alright, dear. Making decisions is tough, isn’t it? I’ve been hearing about what a smart girl you are though! So, what’s the card?”

The old man’s condescension was so typical, you were contemplating rooting for him, just so you could end up with a predictable partner.

“Jack of Hearts,” you smiled after counting down twenty two cards out loud, yet again.

“Whew, that sure is something,” Giberson waved the Jack of Hearts he’d revealed, making sure the rest of the guests could see while he bragged about you, as though your skills were somehow reflective of his own talents. 

As though he already owned you.

“You shuffled,” you teased, guiding him to set up the trick one more time. “Can you guess the card?”

“Queen of Hearts,” he winked again.

Gross. At least he might die soon, that’s a plus.

~~~

“You look beautiful this morning, Y/N,” the firstborn Vinsmoke brother purred when he took Giberson’s seat. 

Every moment was on full display for the other suitors, and for the guests that had stayed on the island for the entertainment. It seemed that the courtyard was to be your new realm, with plenty of space for your much taller dates to join you at your little breakfast table that was set up on a slightly elevated platform. 

A stage. 

“Thank you, Prince Ichigi. You’re looking quite well yourself.”  

Fuck.

It wasn’t a lie, and your pulse sped at the smug smile he gave when he tilted his head down to examine you over his dark, red glasses. 

There was something dangerous in that smile, and the fact that he didn’t even try to hide it made you pause, not sure how best to deal with this entitled prince.

“What does our lovely bride enjoy when she’s not being chased,” Ichiji purred, already claiming you with his words. His sunglasses did little to hide his eyes as they raked over your skin. 

“I enjoy numbers. Mathematics,” you almost squeaked. Heat rose up to your cheeks while you started to shuffle the cards, noticing the number “1” embroidered on his maroon cloak while you explained the goal of the card trick. 

“Seven of Clubs.”

“I’m sorry, Prince Ichiji, you’re wrong again.”

You had to risk a small sip from your untested water glass to fight the dryness on your tongue.

“That’s alright,” Ichiji teased, nodding at the sound of bells marking his time. “That’s why my family always brings numbers.”

“My turn, brother,” the blue haired prince announced as he clapped him on the shoulder. 

“Be nice to our little princess, Niji,” he ordered, pressing your knuckles to his lips before heading back toward the rest of his family. 

“Of course,” your new date smirked, leaning back in his chair with his hands clasped behind that blue head of hair. 

The large spikes and swoops of his hairstyle covered one of his eyes under his gold sunglasses, hiding one of the eyebrows that you kept trying not to glance at. The three brothers shared an odd curl to the ends of their brows, You couldn’t tell if it was a cosmetic choice, but didn’t want to risk insulting such powerful men in case they were sensitive about it.

“Don’t tell me my brother already wore you out,” he clicked his tongue, snapping you out of your memories. 

“I’m so sorry, Prince Niji, I must still be tired from the banquet. What were you saying?”

“Fetch our little bride some coffee,” he snapped at the nearest servant, banging lightly on the table until the dishes rattled.

His harsh tone was almost enough to make you forget your precautions, but you had enough to worry about without the uncertainty of who prepared your drink.

That curly brow raised with satisfied surprise when you rested your hand over his, his lips parting while he ate up your act.

“Would you mind sharing your coffee, Prince Niji? I’d hate to waste any more of our time waiting to wake up.”

“What’s mine is yours, princess,” Niji purred. He caught your hand as you pulled away, and you let him hold it while you drank from his mug. His coffee was unbelievably sweet.

Stop. Don’t think about…

“Thank you,” you hummed, swallowing the heat in your throat while you tried to not to look at his blue hair with that practically syrupy coffee still on your tongue. “Will you help me with a little trick?”

~~~

“It’s up to you, little brother,” Niji reported when his time ran out. 

“Don’t worry, I’ve been watching these pretty hands,” Yonji assured him, kissing your fingers before he sat down. His dark eyes seemed fierce without colored glasses to hide them, and his green hair was slicked back instead of swooping up and out like his older brothers. He wasn’t hiding his interesting features.

“So you think you know the trick,” you challenged, giving him a chance. 

“I think I’ll win your heart,” he swooned, and the sappy look on his face made your hands fumble while you shuffled the deck. 

He focused intently now as you laid them out, and revealed certain cards, counting down to the guess. 

“What card is—“

“Three of Spades,” he blurted out. “What’s your guess?”

“Three of Clubs.”

“Again.”

The youngest prince refused your small talk, avoiding your gaze until his final guess.

“King of Hearts,” Yonji beamed, puppy dog eyes finally on your face again. “What’s your guess, princess?”

Would it be weird to marry Kat’s favorite?

You didn’t glance at your sister, but knew she’d be watching while the green haired prince scored the first point, hearts practically floating around his head when you revealed the card. 

“I told you, princess,” Yonji vowed as he stole a quick peck to your cheek. “I’ll be the one to win your heart.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

~~~⚫~~~

The man that had won your heart beamed when he saw you gazing up at him. His blue hair seemed to glow in the sun, but nothing could gleam like those strong arms, slick with sweat while he climbed down the ropes to meet you on the deck of the ship.

“Oh my, look at you,” Iceburg hummed, tying a bandana over his hair to catch that salty water before it dripped down his face. You stared at those gorgeous, purple tattoos that crawled down his shoulders and arms before he patted the top of your head. “Where’s your dad hiding?”

“He had to take a call, but I helped him write this proposal, so he said I could bring it to you,” you squirmed, handing him the file.

“He’s got you working at thirteen,” he whistled, taking the document while he shook his head. 

“I’m fourteen now,” you declared. 

You couldn’t keep yourself from rolling onto your toes a bit, lifting your chin in hopeful challenge. 

“You’re gonna be running things soon, huh,” he smirked.

Mind going absolutely blank under his attention, you just gaped at him like a fucking creep.

“This ship’s almost finished.” Iceburg leaned close, knocking on the railing behind you. “Would you like a tour? It is your family’s wood that makes it so strong, after all.”

“I– Are you sure? I’ll be fine waiting if you need to get back to work. You don’t need to watch me.”

The desire to follow him around like a puppy was overpowered by the distaste at him feeling the need to babysit you, but the look on his face made you laugh, forgetting it all.

“I don’t wanna go back to work,” the handsome shipwright complained, scrunching up his face in a pout that rivaled your sister’s. “I’d rather show you around, and grab some lunch when your dad gets here. Can we?”

“Okay!”

~~~

This gorgeous, lovely man knew more about Sylvad wood than most of dad’s executives. Listening to him talk about it always made you happy, knowing that your family was part of something so important, so loved. 

Iceburg led you through the ship, telling you how he had worked each piece of lumber, how it all moved with the wind and the waves, even guiding you to slide your hand along the trees your family had grown, smooth and silky to the touch after he’d treated them. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it,” he praised softly, watching your hand against the wood before pulling a pen from his toolbelt. “Well, let’s go get some food, girlie. You can tell your dad what a great job you did presenting your proposal.”

“But you didn’t even read it,” you blurted out, shocked when he pressed the document against a wall to sign his name.

“You and Arbo are good people, plus you’ve got the best lumber in the world,” he laughed while he led you up the stairs toward the sound of footsteps. “I trust you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Iceburg… but you just agreed to build a small fleet to expand our shipping operations in the East Blue. Are you sure you’ll have time for that while you help Tom finish the sea train? Hi, daddy!”

“There’s my girl,” your dad grinned, kissing your temple when you joined him on the deck. “Make any deals without me?”

Iceburg handed the document over, waving his own copy in your direction. Your skin flushed with heat again when he snuck you a wink while your dad glanced at his signature. 

“She’s very convincing. You’ll be able to retire in no time if she keeps this up.”

He was the perfect man. Strong, kind, silly, sweet, and so painfully hot, it drove you mad. You’d had a few crushes on your classmates over the last couple of years, but nothing compared to the way you felt when Iceburg looked at you like that. 

“I don’t doubt it,” your dad praised. He wrapped his arm around the shipwright’s shoulders, nodding his head toward the docks. “Is Kokoro still making that delightful curry?”

“I’ll never let her stop,” Iceburg laughed while he led the way. “Tom should be over there too, let’s go grab some lunch and catch up.”

“Sounds perfect. Do you want to come, sweetheart?”

~~~⚫~~~

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

He’s not who I thought he was. He’s a creep. Another leech trying to latch on and drain as much berry from me as he can. Don’t forget. 

You were pathetic, getting flustered while he watched your hands, his calm voice taking away all your caution. 

“I have to apologize,” Iceburg hummed while you shuffled.

“Why is that?”

“Mm, well,” he looked down at his striped jacket while he patted his pocket. “I left Tyrannosaurus with my secretary. I didn’t think bringing a pet would be… I should be more focused on you.”

“What do you— oh!”

The cards scattered across the table when you jumped, laughter sneaking out of you. 

“This is Velociraptor,” Iceburg announced as a field mouse crawled out of his breast pocket. “I found him during the chase, I hope it’s alright to have pets during our stay. Are you okay, Y/N?”

“I’m fine, sorry,” you recovered from losing yourself in that laughter before gathering the cards again. Your eyes were still watering when you watched the cute creature dive back into his pocket after a few soft pets from his strong fingers. “Can you guess the card?”

“Oh my,” his brows furrowed, watching your waiting hands. “I really need to pay attention, don’t I? I’d love to spend some more time with you.”

He leaned forward, his height making him tower over you at the little table, and you found yourself blinking up at him.

Forgetting.

“I…”

“Is it the Seven of Clubs?”

“No, Mr… No, Iceburg.”

~~~

Prince Fukaboshi was led through the courtyard by a few attendants, both fishmen and mermen featured amongst the group. He looked down at you, mouth opening to speak before Uncle’s voice carried over.

“Why don’t we give our hunter a closer look?”

Grabbing onto the edge of the table took all of your focus, and you knew that your fake smile fell when you started moving through the air. The ground flew away, the wooden platform beneath you rising up toward the prince, gentle surprise on his face.

The snails on the table didn’t seem phased by the change in elevation, and it was hard to pretend they didn’t exist while they slowly shifted positions to better capture you and your date for the audience below. 

You decided not to look down to determine what kind of contraption had lifted you so high, instead looking at the prince before you. Fukaboshi took up your entire field of vision, and it was easy to see the concern on his expansive face.

“Are you alright, Miss Sylvad?”

His teeth look so sharp…

“Please, Prince Fukaboshi,” you trembled, focusing on the cards as much as you could, “call me Y/N. Can you guess the— oh, I’m sorry, are you familiar with these sorts of playing cards?”

You were barely hanging on. He spoke, he guessed, and you could feel the rumble of his voice even though your mind wasn’t quite letting it in. Your body performed without you, your lips reciting words that carried no meaning. 

“This courtship custom is unlike any I have seen before,” the prince frowned while you set up the cards for the last guess. “Since it is all strange to me, I couldn’t be certain, but…”

The pause was long enough for you to meet his eyes, so large, and filled with what looked like compassion. 

No. 

“Miss Y/N, I am seeking your hand so that my people can gain protection and resources so that they never suffer the cruelty and humiliation of slavery again,” Fukaboshi declared. The snails on the table lowered their eyes, but his voice boomed too loud to hide. 

Bells. 

“That is—“

“I never want to see anyone treated the way my sister was by those monsters at the Reverie.”

“Monsters?”

The dangerous question barely made it past your lips before the platform jolted, slowly bringing you down, away from his determined face while the bells kept ringing. 

“Are you being held against your will? I cannot abide another moment of this if you are being used like a pet for their amusement.”

“N-no,” you panicked, craning your neck to see him while you shook your head, hands pleading, voice dripping with lies. “You are so kind, thank you, Prince Fukaboshi! I’m sorry, I must seem scared, but I’m just nervous. This is all a bit overwhelming, but I promise I am glad to be here!”

“Your turn’s over, Prince. You heard the girl.”

Cracker’s manic smile appeared as the table sank to the ground. It felt like your frantic heart had been left in the sky, floating up there with those huge, concerned eyes. 

“Thank you, Prince Fukaboshi,” you beamed, feeling forever selfish at the temptation. 

I can’t risk a stranger, a whole kingdom. I’m not worth it. 

Neither of us would make it out alive anyway. 

“It has been my honor,” he said evenly, though his eyes were scanning the crowd now, a new tension held within his enormous, warrior’s body. 

The snails woke up, those slow moving eyes reminding you that the show must go on.

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry?” 

Cracker sat down, and the platform probably should have lifted a bit as the shirtless man was closer to your reality, but he was still even taller than… 

You had to stop comparing these men to your daydreams. 

“Eight of Diamonds… Damn,” he brushed off his loss before looming over you. His dark, brown glove was softer than you expected it to be when he cupped your cheek, almost the whole side of your face. 

“You understand family duties, don’t you?”

All you could do was nod under the wild look he gave you.

He’s fucking unstable.

“That’s good. Family is everything.”

Is he flirting? 

A dangerous giggle almost escaped, but you kept it in, smiling sweetly while he failed every guess.

The bells finally rang out, but they couldn’t save you from his last words, his promise.

“Our family needs you, Y/N. I don’t care if you’re my wife or my sister, I’ll protect you with my life.”

~~~

This time you were grateful for the moving platform, a reason to look away from Cracker’s confident face. The true reason for the movement came into view, his brother waiting patiently for you to settle just below his eye level. 

Those eyes… 

Charlotte Katakuri was too fucking tall. Too fucking scary. Crimson eyes assessed you, his arched brows and sharp nose not nearly harsh enough to distract from those thick, dark lashes of his.

He’s too fucking pretty.

Now that you were this close, you could see scars on both of his cheeks. They led down toward his mouth, still concealed by that massive scarf. Prince Fukaboshi’s sharp teeth came to mind when you wondered what he could be hiding, so you shuffled and shuffled, trying to think about anything else.

“It’s good to see you, Y/N,” his polite voice made you shiver, seeming to vibrate the elevated stage you were perched on. 

“Same to you, Katakuri,” your voice shook. You couldn’t afford to show this much fear. Predators always looked for weak prey. “Would you mind helping me with a little trick?”

“If that’s what you wish,” he agreed. There was no way to tell if the hint of a smile you heard in his voice was truly hidden beneath his scarf, but it set you on edge, nonetheless. 

“Can you guess the card?”

“It’s the Ten of Hearts.”

He stated it as if it were true, as if he were simply remarking on the weather around him.

And it was true. You’d known it before you revealed it, this simple math trick like the comforting rhythm of a familiar heartbeat. 

“You’re right,” you breathed when you turned it over. “Care to go again?”

Katakuri nodded slowly, but his eyes never left your face, ignoring the cards on the table until you asked for his next guess.

“The Queen of Hearts.”

“Yes. Have you seen this trick before?”

“In a way,” came his cryptic response. “Shall we go again?”

He definitely wasn’t paying attention to the cards. Those stunning eyes were so fucking intense as they bore into your skin that you almost forgot to do the math before you asked for his next guess.

Then you wished you had forgotten.

“What’s the–”

“Shuffle again.”

“But you haven’t–”

You stopped breathing when one of his giant hands shot toward you, his fingers sooo fucking big when he laid them over yours. 

Delicate. This giant was gentle when he covered your hands, covered the cards, practically covered half the little table.

“This card makes you sad,” he whispered, though there was no point with all the surveillance, and with his booming voice at the center of attention. But still, he whispered. “Why don’t you shuffle again?”

Fuck. fuckfuckfuck. Stop. 

There you go. Just smile. 

A small miracle let you slip out of your body, out of your mind, while you shuffled the unrevealed Six of Spades back into the deck. 

Katakuri was still quiet, still watching. So polite while he guessed the right card, letting you pull yourself back together.

Hiding all the struggle behind your Sylvad smile.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he touched your hand again when the platform started to lower. “I’m looking forward to our next meeting.”

You hadn’t noticed the bells.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🤡🗡️~~~

“When are you leaving?”

“There’s no point in waiting,” Mihawk avoided the larger man’s eyes. “The sooner I convince the competition to back out, the sooner Y/N will be free of them.”

“Yeah, but how,” Buggy sighed from his lap, the swordsman’s skilled fingers nearly dragging him down to sleep already. “How the fuck are you gonna convince these assholes that they don’t wanna marry her? She’s perfect! Plus, they get in on that stupid company, and get whatever other bullshit DickHole is selling. What can you do besides poke ‘em with your fancy stick?”

“That’s what I plan to find out,” Mihawk smiled, though the finality in his tone was enough.

“Come on, Buggy,” Crocodile nudged his legs aside, offering the clown his hand while he stared at their determined lover. “Let’s remind our little bird why he should fly back home when he’s done pecking people’s eyes out.”

Buggy let out an exhausted giggle while Mihawk shivered, his eyes rolling back just a bit. Just enough.

“You thought you could run away that easily, huh,” Crocodile threatened with his words, and with the tip of his hook below that sculpted chin.

More guilt almost tore the clown away while he watched them, but Buggy chugged his sugary drink, grateful for the quiet of faraway sleep. He started to pull the swordsman up by the collar of his frighteningly fancy jacket, and that arched brow was an instinctual warning.

The clown heeded the warning, loosening his grip on the jacket, only to yank the man off the couch by his hair. Crocodile joined in on his smug laughter, roughly pulling Mihawk against him before he’d stopped moaning from the unexpected pain.

“You’re not leaving tonight.”

Heavy. 

Whatever they held between them felt heavier than either had expected.

“I’ll go get the bed ready,” Buggy sighed as he half floated toward the door, “but I’ll need another drink if you guys take too long.”

~~~🗡️🤡🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🗡️🐊🗡️🐊~~~

“Are you alright?”

Mihawk laughed at the question, and Crocodile wanted to shake him. He was sick of seeing his lovers fall apart right in front of him, with nothing he could do, or even understand.

He ached to understand this man. They had faced each other in battle just a few years ago, but that Summit War felt like a fever dream now.

Not that this new life didn't feel like a dream.

This man…

Crocodile kept getting him. Meeting him in ways that both surprised, and soothed him. 

Mihawk laughed again at the thought of new vocabulary, but Crocodile pulled him close.

“I’m not ready to lose my business partner,” Crocodile confessed, the words too heavy for the smirk he tried to give. 

The words were enough.

Mihawk laid his deadly fingers along that silk vest, silently asking for a kiss while he stared up at the taller man. 

The swordsman felt like a fraud. 

How could someone like him that had carried nothing for so long be filled with so much? He didn’t want to lie anymore than he already had. 

Crocodile gave him what he wanted. A heavy kiss.

“Let’s not keep our clown waiting,” Crocodile rasped, tracing his thumb along Mihawk’s sharp features. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

~~~🗡️🐊🗡️🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🗡️🤡🐊~~~

They’re holding hands… 

Crocodile and Mihawk had called through the door, all of their hands occupied until Mihawk handed the slack-jawed clown another cocktail. 

“Nice room service,” Buggy tried to recover. 

“Come here, little clown.”

The scarred man let go of one lover to reach for another. Cupping his hand along Buggy’s jaw, with those large fingers combing into the hair at the back of his neck, Crocodile breathed down on him until he was nodding, red lips still parted.

“I haven’t been giving you enough attention,” Crocodile purred, squeezing his face lightly when Buggy tried to argue. “But it looks like we’re gonna have plenty of alone time soon. Plenty of time for me to spoil you.”

“Y-yup! Lots of…”

“Is that what you want?”

“Sure, whatever you say, bos— Yes, daddy.”

“Good boy.”

Buggy disconnected at the ankles to float up into Crocodile’s deep kiss. He nearly spilled his drink before the larger man lowered him down again, eyes dark and satisfied while he watched his clown. 

“You deserve more attention, but you handled him so well. Help me remind—“

“Let’s fuck him up, daddy!”

Buggy downed his drink with one hand while the other snuck past Crocodile’s body to wrap around Mihawk’s throat. 

“You do know that I’m still Dracule Mihawk, don’t you?”

Wicked fingers dug into the floating hand, dragging it down his own chest while he resisted. 

“Whatcha gonna do, Hawkeyes? Stab me? Slice me,” Buggy laughed, setting down his glass before sending his other hand. 

Crocodile started to undress, chuckling softly at his boys. 

The air shifted as danger, delicious danger, poured from the swordsman while he leaned into Buggy’s touch, forcing his floating hands closer to his own body with every taunting step.

“I’m going to play.”

Mihawk’s golden eyes seemed to flicker with his threat, and Buggy felt a flash of fear, a glimpse of a beast. In that moment, he almost gave in, almost let the beast win.

Wherever his burst of confidence came from, Buggy went with it.

“Why don’t you play with daddy’s balls then, huh, crybaby?”

One of the clown’s hands broke free from that hold, and Mihawk couldn’t fight the moan that tore through him when gloved fingers ripped into his hair again, forcing him to look at Crocodile. The larger man was so very large, stroking himself while he sat on the edge of the bed. 

Gods, that fucking cock.

Buggy took advantage of Mihawk’s wonderment by kicking the backs of his knees until he hit the floor, and wrapped himself around the swordsman’s back to leave lipstick-stained bites along his neck. 

“Don’t lie. You wanna get fucking wrecked, don’t you?”

“I don’t like liars,” Crocodile teased, circling his thumb over his tip, taking in a quick breath of satisfaction at the desperate look on Mihawk’s face at the sight. “Do you want us to wreck you, little prince?”

Mihawk melted as that lovely hook pressed into his throat. Buggy rubbed himself against his back, and the swordsman laughed, feeling entirely fucking spoiled. 

“Please, daddy.”

What a fucking sight… 

The scarred man still couldn’t understand how these lovely men were somehow his, not after everything he’d done, everything he’d felt before. Watching Mihawk beg so sweetly while Buggy stripped him made Crocodile’s cock so hard it almost hurt, his rough fingers easing up against that sensitive flesh, until wicked fingers, wicked lips, replaced his own grip. 

“Fuck. Such an evil little mouth you’ve got– Shit…”

Buggy realized his own mouth was hanging open as he undressed, but he couldn’t care to close it while he watched Mihawk swallow more than looked humanly possible.

“Help me out, Buggy,” Crocodile groaned while he gripped Mihawk’s hair, his hand bobbing up and down with that pretty face. “Stretch out our filthy prince for me. No way he’s leaving here before I ruin that perfect, little ass.”

Sloppy, muffled whines escaped him, and Mihawk’s eyes rolled at the daunting threat. Buggy was there, lubed, and ungloved fingers fucking into him until he shook with need, with pleasure. 

“Get over here,” Crocodile growled, stepping back to yank Mihawk toward the bed by the hook around his neck. Buggy helped him along, floating hands lifting that moaning form into place. 

Mihawk’s place was on his hands and knees in the center of the bed, and he lost himself there in the tender and vicious touches his lovers showered him with. In their praise and teasing, pleasure and pain. In the taste of Buggy’s skin as he shoved his cock down his throat. 

He absolutely fucking lost himself when Crocodile lined himself up. He was the world’s greatest swordsman, and he enjoyed pain a great deal. Yet his former enemy was about to pierce him so thoroughly that Mihawk whimpered around Buggy's length, almost afraid. 

Then he felt nothing but that heavy cock, stretching, and claiming, and filling him until tears streamed from his golden eyes.

“So good, so fucking good for me,” Crocodile grunted. He dragged his hook down Mihawk’s side, still not believing what he was seeing. 

Dracule fucking Mihawk, moaning around a clown’s cock while his pretty, little hole sucked him in again and again. 

“Let’s give our twisted prince what he wants, eh, Buggy? Make sure he remembers where he belongs.”

Buggy stuttered in agreement, nearly gone before he obeyed. He tore at Mihawk’s hair while his other hand scraped brutally down his back. The twitching that his rough hands caused forced his cock even deeper until he spilled his pleasure down that desperate throat.

Crocodile sliced his hook around the swordsman’s body, pouring red from that perfect chest while he stuffed his little prince full. The overwhelming sensations had Mihawk coming harder than he’d thought possible, and the sounds he made were unreal. Pathetic. 

Music to the ears of his sated lovers. 

The clown didn’t need to be ordered or asked, Buggy just helped Mihawk stay steady while they pulled out of him. So many praises showered them both while the swordsman just breathed, assessing his every, vicious ache. 

Crocodile hated to leave for even a moment, but he didn’t need to worry. Buggy’s hands had already flown to the bathroom to wash themselves, spilling a bit of soap on the counter before grabbing what he needed. When Crocodile returned from the shower, Buggy was still wiping the other man clean, humming while he trailed gently over that perfect skin. 

Mihawk’s skin was littered with scars of battle and lust, of trust, and he had just enough energy for a weak smile as Buggy’s fingers danced over them all. He moaned, twitching in those gentle arms while his lovers washed him in the shower, no way to recover this soon. 

“Don’t whine, crybaby,” Buggy mumbled, too focused on cleaning and bandaging his wounds while Mihawk melted into the burn. “We’ll slice you up some more when you get back.”

“He’s right,” Crocodile hummed. Seeing these lovely boys taking care of each other gripped something deep within his chest. Whatever it was sparked fear in him, so much so that he had to pause while they laid Mihawk on the fresh sheets between them. 

I can’t lose them. Can’t lose any of them. 

“We’ll be waiting, little bird,” he pressed a kiss to Mihawk’s temple. Contented, sleepy sounds filled the air, and he tried to trust that this lovely new world wasn’t about to end. “Fly back home, alright?”

He couldn’t shape words, but Mihawk hummed his promise before he drifted away.

Home…

~~~🗡️🤡🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“Morning, Y/N— well, afternoon by now, isn’t it?”

You shuffled just to have something to focus on while you simpered for him. 

The traitor. 

“Good afternoon, Shanks. I’m looking forward to our date this evening. Since you already won, I’m afraid you’re out of the running for the next date. We have to give everyone a chance, of course.”

“Of course.” 

You couldn’t fucking believe the charm that oozed off of him when he beamed at you. 

“I’d still like to try your little game though, if that’s alright, gorgeous?”

Shanks stayed quiet while you laid out the cards, some face up, some face down, before you counted down twenty two from the remaining deck. 

A comforting rhythm, the answer already dancing in your mind. 

“It’s the Eight of Clubs,” Shanks purred, touching the back of your hand. Lingering against your skin.

He looked so fucking smug. 

A sick stillness went through you before you revealed his answer. 

Of course, he knows this trick. He probably learned it before the first time he betrayed—

“Let’s go again,” Shanks ordered, the heat in his voice sending shivers across your shoulders, crawling up your neck. 

The eyes of his competition were on you, but the Emperor looked at you like you were already his. Like you were spread out before him, venison for the skilled hunter to devour. 

“Shuffle,” Shanks threatened, catching your chin in his dangerous fingers. 

Just smile. Just pretend.

“I’m not done playing with you yet, little bunny.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you!!

Author's Note:

Oh my goodness. Thank you so much for waiting, and for reading that giant chapter!! 🥰🙏🏼 I hope you enjoyed it, I've been going bonkers waiting to hear all your thoughts on this big ol' mess!

Let me know in the poll if you'd be interested in a separate post of my OP canon + Numbers Game canon timeline. It would give away reader's specific age, so I don't want to share it if people don't want to know!

Note on the Brochure: All of the character details included in the brochure are from Oda, except for the quotes and the missing details for Giberson. I found them on the One Piece Fandom Wiki if you’d like to go check out more about the characters' history. I live on that site, and have to give those fans the credit for compiling all those details! I already spend hours searching for specific parts in the anime for things like lines for speech patterns and such, I’d be lost without the wiki!

Note on the Card Trick: I must confess, I am not as skilled with numbers as our Numbers Girl. This is the same trick I had Buggy use during the flashback of their first night together, and I have no idea if this 15 year old youtube video is full of shit or not, but if you'd like to try it out, here's the tutorial!

Note on this line from the beginning of the chapter: "The White Stag. The hunted. The prey." Kiki Rockwell's voice has been living in my brain, and I realized this line is similar to hers in Burn Your Village "You do not dance everyday with the fear Of living in headlights, the hunted, the deer"

That song is so good, and fits so well! 🦌😭

Anyhoo, I'm off to try to catch up on all of your wonderful comments! Y'all mean the world to me, thank you so much!!! 🙏🏼💜

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @caniseethefourthsword | @hey-august | @chaoticqueen33 | @destinationmars | @novakitten0901 | @h0n3y-l3m0n05 | @dorky-birdie | @szired | @pinejayy | @laws-wife-things | @jadeddangel | @gingernut1314 | @urlocaltwink | @blue-rae18 | @bontensbabygirl | @bbnbhm | @0-sparkling-lace-0 | @ihearthazuki | @mikisspeak | @djloveyou3000 | @mercymccann | @horse-and-writer97

Chapter 33

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

[forlorn-crows]

𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒕𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒂𝒚 11: 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒄𝒆𝒇𝒆𝒎

pairing(s): aeon/swiss words: 1619

Swiss mouths at him, pressing his full lips right over the pretty bow that adorns the bulge in his panties. A simple pair Cirrus had bought for him: dark blue with a blush pink bow, silky to the touch with a small line of lace trim around the waistband. Immediately boner-inducing the moment he’d slipped them on, and every time since. 

“Such a cute little thing, baby,” he mumbles against Aeon’s chubbed cock. “So perfect under these little panties.”

Aeon bites his lip. Rucks his shirt up a bit higher, exposing the tiny line of happy trail over his navel. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Swiss rumbles. He smooths over that hair, watching goosebumps rise as he pets. “Should wear these more often. Keep that cock nice and snug.” 

It twitches at his words, quickly working its way to fully erect. Never able to stay even a little soft around Swiss. 

“Oh, it likes that idea, baby. Should’ve tucked it between your thighs before you got hard so it could pop out from between them.” He gets an almost wistful look on his face then, clearly picturing it—how he’d see the drip of pre against the inside of his thighs before the shaft plumped up, pulling tighter and tighter until his legs could no longer hold the sticky head hostage. 

It puts a different sort of picture in Aeon’s mind. And he just can’t keep it to himself.

He bites his tongue, the sweet lilac tip poking out between his pearly teeth. Aeon wriggles, pulling his shirt a little higher, exposing tummy. “Don’t you think I’d make a pretty girl, Swiss?” he muses.

Swiss grins, predatory. Clearly, he was picturing the same: a smaller thing growing plump between skin that isn’t his thighs. Panties concealing a creamy slit instead of the ridge of his cock. It takes no convincing at all on Aeon’s end to get Swiss on board the fantasy that’s rapidly taking off between them.

“The prettiest girl, baby,” the multi agrees. His hands pet at the soft hair on Aeon’s thighs, tongue darting out to lick at him again. When he pulls back again, there’s a spot of precum soaked into the silk along with his spit. “Fuck. I’d eat you out for hours. Worship that pretty pussy like it deserves.”

Aeon hums, walking his fingers down his dappled happy trail. “Would you?”

A pause. Aeon’s eyes flick between his mouth and the wet spot, and Swiss has to huff a laugh. “Would I what?” He catches that gaze, sly and knowing. 

Aeon’s eyes sparkle as he looks down at Swiss. He raises an eyebrow and pokes his tongue between his teeth again, cocking his head coquettishly. He spreads his legs, careful to keep himself contained within the small stretch of fabric. He trails the hand playing with the hem of his shirt down to his crotch instead and spreads his pointer and middle finger over top of his shaft. Parting the digits as if parting folds, the vee of them framing the head of his cock—his clit—which stands in aching relief beneath the fabric.

“Eat me out,” he says simply, “like a girl.”

Swiss groans long and low, immediately pressing his nose in between Aeon’s fingers. The swell of his cockhead nuzzles into the bridge of it as he scents him with great flourish. Shoving his nose as deep as it will go into the dampened fabric, rubbing the tip of it and his parted lips up and down the line of his dick. 

“I’ll do whatever you want,” he rumbles, warm eyes sparkling with mischief as he looks up through dark lashes, “if you’re a good girl for me.”

Aeon’s breath hitches. “Over the panties?” His voice is hushed, sharp, eager—like he’s sharing a secret he shouldn’t be. “Could get me so wet.”

The multi ghoul pulls back and gives a pointed look at the darkened fabric between Aeon’s fingers. “Already pretty wet, sweetheart,” Swiss comments, swirling the tip of his tongue over the imprint of Aeon’s slit. 

The sensation of the warm, wet silk rubbing over the frenulum makes his eyes unfocus, rolling back into his head with a wanton moan.

“Yeah, baby? Like when I kiss it?”

“Fu-huh-uck, more, please; more,” he half laughs half groans. “Feels good.”

“Move that hand, lemme do all the work. That’s it, that’s my girl.” Swiss guides Aeon’s hand to rest back on his stomach, hem of his shirt catching between his fingers as it draws upward. “Want me to suck on this pretty clit, don't you? Fuck, look how fat it is for me—”

Aeon keens as Swiss’ mouth returns, this time to suck. His thighs twitch under the multi-ghoul’s hands. Muscles jumping and trying to close. Whether to keep Swiss in or squeeze him out, he doesn’t have enough brain power to decipher. As soon as that talented tongue swirls around the tip of his cock, all coherent thought fizzles out.

“Shit, Swiss,” he curses. Aeon grabs a handful of his locs and grinds up into his mouth. “Yes, that’s—yeah.”

“Yeah? That the spot?” Swiss goads. 

Aeon nods, keening again as the multi ghoul sucks again. “T-tell me how it tastes . . . how my pussy tastes,” he groans.

“Sinful, baby,” Swiss rumbles against him. “Just throbbing for this, isn’t it?”

“Uh huh.”

“So full; just fuckin’ begging to be touched and sucked.” 

“Fuck yeah, suck i-i-i-it.”

Swiss chuckles as he swirls around the head of his cock, around and around until the fabric soaks all the way through. He presses the flat of his tongue to the slit and wiggles it back and forth. Teasing before closing his mouth around it once more. Aeon can’t contain the lavish moan that escapes his throat, so instantly sensitive that he can’t help but buck his hips and toss his head against the sheets. 

“Easy,” the multi ghoul hushes him. He pushes a firm hand into Aeon’s stomach, stilling his eager hips. “There ya go, good girl. Try to keep ‘em still for me.”

Aeon bites his lip. “Making my—” Swiss sucks hard and his jaw drops, eyes rolling back. “Ssshhit, making my clit so hard.”

“‘N wet,” Swiss mumbles. “You’re cunt wet, too?”

Swiss slides his hand down the front of the panties, fingers poised like they could go . . .  inside. Instead, he presses over the ridge of his balls and tucks them under, curling his fingers up and into his taint as he takes the head into his mouth again. 

“Fuck—!” Aeon can feel a fat glob of pre soak into the underwear and smear over Swiss’ tongue. “Oh, finger me, put ‘em in deep.” 

That’s right, Swiss presses into his mind, the rich timbre of his voice rumbling through his brain. Lemme hear how good it feels. 

Aeon groans. He really should have known better. “Lucifer, you’re going to kill me.”

He loses track of himself, then. Gets lost in the firm press of Swiss’ fingers, petting at his prostate from the outside in; in the suction of his lips and tongue as they work over his soaked cockhead, the texture of the silk only adding to his rapidly crumbling resolve; and, in the way Swiss gets into it, gripping his thigh to keep him spread, pulling his fingers from underneath his balls to spread his saliva and pre over the tip as if it were slick, moaning into his crotch like he really has a mouthful of cunt. 

It’s sexy, and the fantasy makes Aeon’s stomach clench in a horrible, delicious way. 

“Close,” he warns all too soon. “Fuck, Swiss, you’re gonna make me cum like this, oh fuck.”

Yeah, atta girl, Swiss projects, sucking harder. Wanna see it. Wanna see you squirt for me.

Aeon’s cock kicks hard against his mouth, balls drawing tight in his hand. “‘M gonna,” he whimpers, eyes squeezing shut. “Oh oh oh, ‘m gonna cum for you, gonna make this pussy cum—” He cuts off wordlessly, mouth dropping all the way open as the pleasure in his gut erupts in a plume of shivers. Spreading until it has nowhere to go but out, and Aeon’s cock kicks and spurts like it’s been waiting to do since he first slipped the underwear on. Cum bubbles up through the silky fabric and dribbles over the front of the panties in little rivulets, dragging down the soaked line of Aeon’s cock as Swiss works him through it with the flat of his tongue. Hard, long licks that make the quint ghoul’s toes curl. 

“Fuck, you had a lot to give me, baby,” Swiss groans, lapping it up. “Didn’t know my girl could squirt like this.” Aeon whines at that. If he had half a mind, he’d crane his neck up to see the streaks of white in Swiss’ beard that shot out first. Instead, he goes completely boneless, save for his hips that can’t stop arching up into the multi ghoul’s face. 

“Lucifer,” he rasps, covering his face with both his hands but peeking through his fingers. “How’d you do that?” 

Swiss just shrugs. “Just usin’ what the Dark Lord gave me.” He smiles wide and licks across his fangs, showy. Picking up the last bit of spend off his top lip. “Should get you next to Aurora, show her how pretty my girl sounds.”

Aeon’s cock gives a feeble twitch right underneath that pretty pink bow. “I’m sure she sounds better,” he mumbles, omitting the fact that he knows and hears how she begs and giggles and screams for Swiss when he’s got his mouth on her, the multi ghoul ravenous and nothing short of a generous lover.

Swiss shrugs. “We’ll just have to find out, then; won’t we, sweetheart?”

[sleepyfan-blog]

Rotten Hope (2)

Author’s note: Part two of the Typhus x Reader fics. I blame you all for the botflies that have spawned because of this.  this 4,595 words long. Why has this man infested my brain so much? HELP Previous

Tagged: @ms--lobotomy @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @whorety-k @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

Warnings: dubious consent, attempted seduction, forced marriage (In that Typhus decides that you and him are married now), body horror, tentacles, oviposition, SMUT, mild cumflation, demon bees, please ask me to tag anything that makes you uncomfortable that I missed

Summary: You are brought to Typhus the traveler, herald of Nurgle, to speak with him. You get far more than what you bargained for. 

You could keenly sense Typhus' presence upon this world. The powerful deamon marine of nurgle wasn't bothering to hide nor dim his curdling presence to your senses as you left the space port where your ship had been docked. Your ship - what used to be your ship - was a swift vessel that did have enough ammunition to defend itself against most pirates and would be attackers. Not that they could fend off the full might of a Gloriana class vessel, Her speed could fly circles around the much larger but slower vessel. You were also hoping that they would be focused on the suffering and agonizing souls were being ravaged by the plague, rather than a single vessel of healthy, un-touched souls. 

As you make your way through the streets of the city, you watch as the plague marines and cultists go from door to door, bearing bowls of horrific looking and smelling liquid that bubbled and glorped unpleasantly. the ragged, sickly and confused mortals peering blearily at them, falling to their knees and thankful for the stew given to them, drinking gratefully as the foul substance seemed to soothe the ragged edges of madness that was part of the dreadful blight that had taken so many of the mortals of this world. You look away, focusing on moving through the streets of the city, hearing the grateful murmurings of the mortals around you, tears falling from your eyes as you knew that the horrid stew that they were gratefully drinking would bind them to the Plaguefather.

Ah... But you'd been the one to bring these bastards here. You'd been so relieved to have found an Astartes, you'd forgotten to check if he was chaos-tainted or not, having forgotten that not all of them followed the will of their creator in your desperate search for any kind of help... And you'd found help, as the violent madness did seem to fade from the minds of the afflicted as you carefully move across barricades, still in your hazmat suit, silently hoping that the uninfected mortals realized that Plague Marines had come to this world and they had ways to flee this world, this system before they were caught and either killed painfully or turned to Nurgle's side. 

You knew that you'd been spotted hours ago, and stopped at the edge of the barricade that had been set up by the Death Guard and their accompanying cultists, despair and misery pulling at your heart as you see that the healthy mortals were being stripped of their protective gear and dragged across the barrier one at a time, being taken to where Typhus was. You swallow down the desire to flee, to hide. He knew you were on this world. You had no safe way off of this world, and if you willingly revealed your presence, perhaps you could have the remaining healthy mortals spared from the predations of the plague-ridden neverborn. You walk up to two of the guards as they glare down at the trembling, weeping mortals and call out as bravely as you can manage out "Excuse me -" Your eyes flicker over the corroded metal and twisted heraldry that both of the plague marines were wearing, searching for any clue as to what either of their ranks were. Aha! You spotted it, under the grime and muck "Sergeant, but I need to speak with your first captain, he is expecting me."

The Death Guard on the left leaned on his scythe a little, looking you up and down "The first captain won't see anyone in clothes like that, it's rude. He also said that he gave the one he's looking for a certain phrase to prove themself to be the eternal blossom he seeks?"

You swallow hard as you reach up and take off your helmet, doing your best to keep eye contact with the large marine, ignoring the horrified gasps from the mortals around you. 

"No! Lady Trader, do not-" One of the scientists pleaded, running towards you and breaking the line that they'd been put in, trying to reach for your helmet.

Two of the cultists rushed the scientist who'd grabbed you and hauled them back into line, giggling madly "Now, now, don't be impatient! Grandfather is happy to bless all of you, you just need to be patient!"

"He said... He said that Typhus asked me, little Isha, to come to him while our minds touched one another." You respond, doing your best to keep your voice as even and confident as you can manage. Your grip on the hazmat helmet is tight, but you hope that they don't notice that.

Both Death Guards grin - their fused facial plates splitting open into needle-sharp maws with dozens of spiraling rows of teeth, and the mouths on their bellies opening up and laughing raucously "So he did, little blossom! Remove the rest of your protective coverings and one of our brothers will bring you to the Herald."

You nod, stripping out of the rest of the hazmat suit as quickly as you could force yourself to move, now dressed in the shirt, shorts and shoes you'd picked specifically because it would get very warm in the hazmat suit if you dressed too warmly. It was early spring in this hemisphere and in the blood-red dawn of day it was chilly, causing you to shake and shiver in the cold. "I have done as you asked."

"Darsas! Eleghra, the eternal flower has revealed herself at the gate and is prepared to meet Older Brother." One of the guards calls out.

Moments later, two massive, mutated plague marines walk up to you, one of them on each of your sides and pick you up bodily, walking you into the secondary area. You're set down before a half-dozen Nurglite cultists who begin to frisk you for weapons - as if you could physically stand up to the might of a standard marine, much less a favored chaos marine of one of the Four - before saying "She is ready to see The Herald."

You are physically picked up and carried over to a large, grimy tent where a massive marine is partially bent over a large table, speaking with the plague riddled governor and highest-ranking nobles of the half-dozen worlds under siege of  this awful plague, each of the latter looking terrified and resigned. All of them look stunned to see you - and that you are whole and healthy, especially in the grasp of a plague marine. You should be in paroxysms of pain, gasping and spluttering as the infested flies that buzz around their supernaturally fucked up bodies devour from the inside out. 

Despite his helmet hiding whatever facial expressions he might be making, you could feel the satisfaction and delight that Typhus oozes as his gaze falls upon you, dangled in the grasp of two of his brothers. "Excellent! I was hoping that you wouldn't be stubborn nor skittish, little Isha-"

At that... Petname? Lord Alleg'fel spluttered, his abhuman (not Eldar) pointed ears twitching a little, dark eyes widening in horror "L...Little what?"

"Mmm, I am surprised that you are unaware of the eternal flower in your midst. Such beings tend to be shy and hide themselves well, unless forced out into the open." Typhus purrs "While she is able to die, her soul returns to her mortal form swiftly, unable to truly die. She is blessed with psykery and an eternally youthful body. This lovely, shy flower was hidden amongst your worlds. Grandfather blessed me with her near location and we created this plague to bring all of you into Grandfather's loving embrace... And to bring her out of hiding. Grandfather noted that I had been... Lonely, wishing for a companion similar to the companionship He enjoys with Grandmother, and pointed us in this lovely flower's direction. You are dismissed. My little flower and I need to... Talk... Privately."

Slow burning horror and guilt would have caused you to crumple to the ground, despair and fury hitting you moments later. You'd done your best to stay out of the greater Game that was being played between The Four and Neoth, and had thought that you'd been largely successful. You hadn't realized that all of this was to trap you in one place, so that... What? You'd become a plaything for the favored pawn of Nurgle? As if you were going to lay down and meekly take whatever awful horrors he was going to do to you. A low, furious growl left your chest as your eyes began to flash the bright shining blue of warpcraft, your hands beginning to crackle with the power you'd long since learned to master, your voice booming with fury "IF YOU THINK-" you started to yell, the eldritch lightning sparking around your form painful enough to cause the two plague marines to drop you to the ground. You land on your feet, hissing wordlessly, ready to fight to your death over and over again.

But Typhus cut off your words "Come now, you asked for my help, little flower, and I have given it. Besides, I even ensured that the plague that ravaged these worlds did not affect the mortals you are closest to, despite them being exposed to it."

Horror hit you, cooling your fury like a deluge of ice on a lava flow "What.... What do you mean?"

"Come now, did you really think that mundane methods of infection prevention can actually stop one of Grandfather's plagues? Surely you're more clever - or at least not that naive, my lovely flower. Although it would be very cute if you are. they live healthy and untainted as a favor to you." Typhus crooned, all but teleporting in front of you. One of his massive, clawed hands cups your cheek. The stench of death and decay is nearly overpowering and makes you want to gag. It is not helped by the undercurrent of honey-sweetness that is, strangely enough, part of his scent as well as overripe fruit. "But if you try to fight me or my little brothers, I will remove that protection from them. I have brought an entire fleet with me. Your cute little ship cannot hope to escape my brothers in the void above us."

Despair and failure rip the fight out of you, and your eyes shine with tears. But you do know how to play coy, to bat your eyelashes. You can feel the desire and want radiating off of this chaos-twisted monster, and you desperately hope that you can use that to your advantage somehow. Which is why you lean into his touch, despite internally shuddering at that, locking your mental shields tight, so as to keep your emotions from the younger psyker. "Please don't harm my crew... they are as innocent of my nature as the mortals in these worlds, Lord Typhus. I..." You do not want to, but the false apology will likely stroke his ego "Apologize for lashing out earlier."

"Mmm, I expected at least a little bit of bite and fury, my lovely Rose. Of course you have your own thorns. You merely needed to be reminded not to prick your beloved's brothers when in a pretty little temper." Typhus purrs, giving a silent signal to his brothers, who swiftly cleared the tent of anyone else. "You're so used to hiding and escaping... To have your true nature revealed would cause a fit of pique... As long as that doesn't happen again, I am willing to forgive you easily enough."

"I... I'll try... Would you please let my ship full of mortals leave without becoming ill? they are wanderers by nature and to trap them in one place would be cruel beyond words, my lord." You plea, batting your eyelashes up at him.

"Wouldn't you rather have them with you, my lovely flower? For you will be at my side now and for always. Won't you miss them if they are far from you?" Typhus coos down at you as he scoops you up and sets you down on the table, pressing in close to you as he does so. "When I found out that you're a rogue trader, I was rather expecting to you to be dressed in fine clothes, with pretty little gems accenting your lovely features..."

"Such things are not...uhm... Exactly reasonable to wear, especially in the protective clothing I was wearing over this, my lord. And I did not want to worry the mortals by wearing something... So flashy?" You offer, peeking up at h i m coquettishly, tilting your head a little before looking down "Besides... All of that artifice is... Tiring at times, not to mention ephemeral. And I'd rather my mortals be happy, if away from me, than at my side and unhappy."

"How sweet of you, my lovely rose... And I do like how simply you are dressed. It makes unwrapping you much easier. You are mine, as Isha belongs to my grandfather. We will become one, and you will be my pretty little wife." Typhus purrs, pressing you down on the table. You could hear something creak and shift in his armor before four tentacles slide out from hatches in his armor, each curling into part of your pants and ripping them off of you, as a fifth slid up between your legs and the tip rubbed against your core.

You gasp and squirm, trying to close your legs and shift away from the strange sensation, turning your head away from him as your face and neck burned in a blush that was revealed by more tugging tendrils to be a flush that spread down your chest and across your breasts "L-Lord T-Typhus! Does... Do... Right now? On a table? Is this... Is there somewhere more comfortable to... To..." You can't bring yourself to say the words that burned like acid in your mind.

"hmm? Would you like me to carry you to a bed, to ravish you properly, my pretty little flower? Is that what you'd like? I'll admit, that was my initial plan, but your sweet flirtation and compliance so far has worn away my patience. I try to emulate grandfather, but patience is not my strongest suit." Typhus purrs. You see him pull his face plat off, his face half rotted near to bone as he gives you a crushing, dominating kiss that tastes of over ripe fruit and dangerously sweet honey. When he pulls away from you, allowing you to catch your breath, you see that the sting of saliva that connects you to him has a golden tinge. "I could be... Convinced to take you for our first time together on a bed... But you'll need to do something for me, first."

You hadn't expected the bastard to be a talented kisser, nor to stir up long-suppressed wants. You blink up at him, feeling surprisingly hazy and warm from the kiss "What.. What is it, lord?" You ask, not having to feign the breathiness in your voice from the kiss. 

"For you to taste a mouthful of the honey that my bees create. Considering your reaction to just the slightest taste of it, I suspect that you will enjoy more of it. But I get to share it so rarely with others, and my little darlings have plenty to spare." Typhus purrs, his hands lightly squeezing your upper thighs as he effortlessly pulls your legs away from one another. 

You hate how much that casual display of strength turns you on, and the wetness that starts to drip from your core at that. It's been... A long time since you'd masturbated, and you hadn't had sex in... At least a century? Perhaps longer. "H...Honey?" You manage out, trying to focus. 

 The smug bastard definitely noticed, from the pleased hum and the smirk he's giving you with what remains of his lips -  and he rubs one of his tentacles more firmly against your entrance "Are you certain you want to wait that long? You're already dripping for me~! And this table should be sturdy enough for me to fuck you properly on. I'd also be happy to feed you a mouthful of my honey either way."

"I... haah! Oh! Please... Hnngh..." You start to say, groaning as one of the tentacles that had been content to hold your arms down slid over and began teasing and squeezing one of your breasts, flicking it with the tip of the squirming appendage. His stench was overpoweringly awful, but somehow that did not help you focus through the embarrassing amount of lust coursing through your system. 

"Mmm? Please what, my cute little wife? Please take you now, on the table? Or would you rather I carry you to bed, holding you close as my tendrils work you open to receive me? There may be others out and about as I take you to a nearby bed, precious flower of mine. Not that I mind others knowing for a fact that you are mine and mine alone to tease and pleasure in such a way." Typhus rumbles, the sneaky bastard's hands coming up to cheekily squeeze your ass cheeks.

You’d rather not be paraded around naked for who knows how long it takes him to find a bed for all to see… But the table is hard and deeply uncomfortable as it digs into your back. “Honey please, my lord. I… Would I have to be seen by others like this, on the way to bed, sir?” You’re gambling on what his likely kinks might be, from what you’ve observed of other marines throughout your centuries of life. “Wouldn’t you rather be the only one to see me like this… Shivering and wanting for you and you alone, my lord?” You spread your legs a little, hooking your ankles around his hips as best as you can, pulling him in closer, one hand coming up to caress the tentacles teasing your breasts, making it difficult for you to think. But not impossible.

His gaze nearly scorches you with the intensity at which he looks at you, before a dark chuckle rumbles through his chest and he pulls you in close, giving you another searing, breath-stealing kiss. “You are correct, my lovely rose. Now open up, let me feed you my honey.” His four of tentacles have shifted, wrapping around your back, arms and legs to keep you in place, while the fifth keeps rubbing and teasing your entrance and clit, sending waves of guilt-laced pleasure shuddering through your body.

Obediently you open your mouth wide, going “Ahhh~!” as if you’re eagerly anticipating whatever foul substance he’s calling honey is being fed to you. Even if the substance kills you, it won’t kill you for very long.

A smaller tendril, several shades lighter in color than the others comes out from his body and presses it’s way into your mouth, and he orders “close your mouth around this and swallow once your mouth is full.”

A thick, sticky substance quickly fills your mouth, and you let out a little sound of surprise as you swiftly close your lips around the appendage, swallowing as much of it down as you could. Still, you could feel some of the surprisingly sweet and delicious substance trickle out of the corners of your mouth. The appendage in your mouth flexes and slides deeper, causing you to let out a muffled sound of surprise - the cry getting louder as the tendril teasing your entrance abruptly slid deep and fast into your core, as your walls fluttered and squeezed around the breech helplessly “Mmm-Hmmm!” You garble out around the tendril.

Typhus chuckles, his glowing red eyes dark with lust “That’s it, gorgeous, you like the taste of my honey, don’t you? Take another mouthful, and try not to spell my cutely messy little wife.” He accentuated his words with a thrust of the tentacle inside your spread open cunt. You really hoped his cock was the size of the tentacle shoving itself deep inside of you. You can’t imagine being able to take anything bigger. 

Shamefully, the nod you give him when he asks if you liked his honey is entirely truthful, and you can’t help the needy whines that leave you when the tentacle filling your pussy slowly slides out of you, your walls achingly empty. You can taste another gush of warp-infused honey fill your mouth, which you do manage to swallow all of this time. The tendril in your mouth retreats to merely pressing against your lips. Hazy warmth begins to envelop your mind and causes a pleasant tingling sensation to spread throughout your body. “Sorry… Didn’t meant to spill first time…” You slur out, one hand coming up to collect the spilled honey off of your cheeks and neck, licking it off your fingers as you peer up at him. “Please… Husband… Take me, in bed, for our first time?” You peer up at him through your eyelashes, pouting a little as you press your naked breasts to his corroded armor.

The rumbling sound that Typhus made almost terrified you, if not for the insistent way he nuzzled your neck, leaving little kisses and bites all the way down, from just under your ear, to where your neck met your shoulders. You realized a moment later that he was purring, and the tentacle that had shoved it’s way inside your cunt earlier was steadily pumping in and out of you, prompting needy little gasps and moans to leave you as he presses you hard against the table. “OH… I understand now why Grandfather holds onto Grandmother so closely… Why she is such a precious treasure for him… Mrrr, you are a tempting little treat, but I did promise to fuck you on a bed if you tasted my honey, and I tend to try and keep my promises.” You could hear the buzz of his demonic bees that accompanied him everywhere he went at the end of his little speech..

“Ah! Hah… Please… Amngh! Ty-... Typhus! AH… My lord! Hah… the table… hurtss…. Please my lord husband! Ah! Hah… Please!” You plead, the fuzziness in your mind and the pleasure - somehow amplified by the warmth spreading through you threatened to break what little control you had over yourself and this situation into tiny little pieces. You deliberately squeeze as tightly as you can manage around the thrusting tendril inside of you “Please… bed? Now? Oh!  You… You’re gonna… haha! Make me c-cum soon, siirrr!” 

The pleased growling rumble that provoked from Typhus you hoped was a good thing. “Such a good little wife I have… fuck! You are such a tempting little thing. Hold on close~!” He purrs. You feel another’s warpcraft weave it’s way across your body, and you fight the urge to resist with all your strength as Typhus teleports you and himself to somewhere else.

Wherever it is, it’s softer under your ass than the hard metal and glass table. Warmer, too as Typhus starts leaving more bites across the skin of the other side of your neck and shoulders, his tentacles teasing your breasts and bending your legs back and away, nearly folding you in half, as the tentacle fucking your cunt moves at a maddeningly quick pace, curling and shifting inside of you in all the right ways.

You hazily watch as he pulls away, his large hands fumbling with something at his waist - a metallic thunk of something hitting the floor. You're still keening and moaning at the way one of his tentacles is filling your core full when -

Something larger begins to press inside of you, while the tentacle is still inside. You realize after a moment it's Typhus' cock "Please! Husband... Lord... I... I can't take both at once! You're too big for me, I'll tear!" You plead tearfully, the pain coursing through your body so much more than the pleasure that had nearly sent you to an orgasm.

Typhus chuckles, kissing your cheeks and licking up your tears "Easy now, my cute little wife. You'll be able to fit in both, I promise. Just breathe through the pain. I'll move slowly, I promise... Though you are sinfully tight around my cock... Such a good little wife~! Good girl... Deep breaths... That's it..."

A tiny part of you hates how his praise does seem to somehow be helping you. Your breathing is jagged and shallow as the bastard continues to press in, his thick, long cock sliding in slowly alongside where one of his tentacles is already buried deep inside your cunt. It feels like it takes an eternity for him to stop pressing inside of you, and twice that for the pain to subside.

All the while, Typhus is purring lewd praises in your ear, nibbling on the skin of your neck, and drinking up your tears. "Such a good girl... My precious, eternal flower, taking all of me in... That's it, just breathe in and out as you submit to me... Good little mate. Are you ready for me to move?"

You nod weakly, well and thoroughly trapped beneath his bulk "Y-Yes, please move, lord..."

Typhus starts purring again as he alternates thrusting in with one of his tentacles and his cock, never not filling you with one of them, a filthy string of curses and praises leaving his lips as he fucks into you hard and fast.

You claw at his back, moving your hips in time to his thrusts as best as you can, the intensity of the sensations too much for you to do more than instinctually respond back, moaning wordlessly in pleasure, clinging tightly as your first orgasm hits you.

Typhus doesn't so much as slow down as your walls flutter and squeeze around him, the bastard as he continues to fuck you, somehow able to move even faster as he fucks you through your orgasm. He does, however, bite down hard on one of your shoulders, enough to draw blood.

You couldn't say how much time passed as Typhus fucked you over and over again, pulling orgasm after orgasm from your increasingly exhausted body. Eventually both his cock and the tentacle he'd been using to fuck you for what must have been hours at minimum deep inside your core at the same time, pressing up against your cervix (causing you a whimper of pain, which he ignored) flooding your womb with cum. You swore you could feel your belly begin to bulge outwards at the amount he pumped into you, prompting another whimper to leave your exhausted and chapped lips.

Typhus chuckles, kissing you again as you feel the tentacle press harder against your cervix, before feeling something other than cum begin to fill your womb, bump by bump.

"Wh... what is...?" You slur out, too tired to form the words properly, sending the sensation through the light mental bond that Typhus had formed with you during the sex at some point.

Typhus chuckled and purrs "Geneseed, lovely one. Which you will hold inside of you until it is ready to be implanted. You make a wonderful wife, my lovely little flower." He pats your lightly distended belly with an enormous hand, clearly pleased with himself. He holds you close to his body "Rest, little flower. You are safe with me."

You very much want to demand what the fuck he meant by that, but the psychic pressure behind his command - and your own exhaustion worked against you as you slumped into his embrace, sleep overtaking you.

[miasmaghoul]

merry crimus have some swissdew forcedfem thoughts uwu

Dew dressing up in panties and stockings for Swiss all on his own for the first time. Comes out of the bathroom all swaying hips and flowing hair, but as confident as his walk may be his face shows reservation. Flushed with nerves.

There's a bralette that goes with this set and they both know it, but it's sitting in the bathroom sink because Dew couldn't stop shivering the second he saw himself in it. It's different when Swiss isn't making him do this, and he's not quite ready for that yet.

But Swiss stares anyway, eyes wide and fangs poking out when he smiles. Tells Dew how gorgeous he looks and loves the shy way he turns his head to the side. Just for a second.

Dew puts on a little show for him, touching his own chest and legs and starting to tent the front of those lacy red panties. Swiss keeps his legs crossed and his breathing even, but everything Dew does makes him ache. He's so graceful, so fluid in a way Swiss only sees behind closed doors. He wants to memorize every motion, every twirl and bend and flick of his hair.

Dew, though, takes his silence and focus as scrutiny, and some of his already shaky confidence falters. He stands a little ways from Swiss, crosses his arms over his chest.

"Is this...are you...should I be doing something else?"

Swiss frowns, Dew shrugs.

"I can't...tell if you like it," he mumbles, embarrassed. "Lemme - lemme go change -"

Swiss reaches out then, gets a large hand around Dew's wrist. Pulls him close until Dew's standing between his knees, until he can smell something sweeter than Dew's usual cologne. Perfume? It smells like summertime fruit and jasmine and it makes Swiss throb.

"Sweetheart," he coos, soft, "you have no idea how much I like this."

Swiss guides Dew's hand to his crotch and Dew sighs when he finds Swiss hot and so, so hard behind his zipper. His cheeks go even pinker and Swiss gives him a breathless little laugh.

"Look what you do to me, babygirl."

Dew sucks air through his teeth, shudders, and as he straddles his lap Swiss silently prays he doesn't spill in his pants.

[divine-misfortune]

Why aren't we force-femming aether. Where's the equality.

[disinhume]

Jimmy Novak is a beautiful name for a good christian woman

[kabr0ztrousers]

Kabr0z Writes Episode 9: Farm Work

Find the rest of the stories here!

CWs: Noncon; kidnap; lactation play; transformation; restraints; corruption; forced impregnation; forced tf; bondage; probably a dozen things I've missed

Author's note: I'm really not kidding when I say you can help by giving me ideas! Want me to write about something? Drop me an ask or a DM! I'll probably get around to it in the next 350+ days!

######################################

Maybe you stayed out a little late? Maybe you were in the wrong place at the wrong time? All you know is you got jumped.

It was on the way home after work, you hadn't noticed them get off the train behind you, hadn't heard them gaining on you. You only noticed them when the chemical-smelling rag was pressed against your face, and the world went dark.

You woke up already naked and sweaty. Your arms were bound down your back, forcing your chest to push out, showing off your tits in the half-light. You could hear shouting in the next room, then everyone went quiet quiet as a voice called out 

"Next is lot 35, female, mid 20's, recently acquired"

They pushed you forwards and you stumbled, your ankles tied so you could only take small, hobbling steps, your bare feet numb on the cold concrete floor.

You emerged through the door into a spotlight. Blinking against the light you could see the room was full of people but you couldn't see any faces. 

Everyone could see you, bare, glistening, unable to cover yourself. You cowered away from their gaze, and yelped when a man hit you across the buttocks with a cane.

The auctioneer started the bidding, calling out numbers and taking bids faster than your addled, panicking brain could follow them. All the while, the man with the cane was watching. If you slouched? Whack. If you looked down? Whack. If you tried to hide any part of you? Whack.

The gavel went down. You're not sure how much you sold for. You were led off into another room, then into the back of a van.

You weren't sure how long you were in there, gradually coming down from whatever they used to knock you out. When they opened the doors you were somewhere else.

A large man, bald and scarred, manhandled you up and tightened a collar around your neck. He attached a long pole to it and started to manoeuvre you out. You were pulled through a maze of corridors, into a room with dozens of other women restrained to the floor and groaning. A smaller man waited, dressed in riding gear and carrying a crop.

"Ah, the new arrival." He pulled out a torch and examined you by the light, prodding and poking, feeling your tits and forcing open your mouth to see inside "All her own teeth, reasonable build, looks perfectly adequate. Get her settled." He left the room by the door you came in. 

The large man pushed you to a space between two other women and attached your collar to the floor with a short length of chain before going behind you and connecting your ankles to the floor. 

You were stuck there, knelt down with your naked ass in the air, face inches from the floor. 

That's when you heard it. Something was being led up behind you. Something huge and snarling. You could feel it's breath on your behind as it got to you. It was smelling you. Then it was upon you. 

It was heavy on your back, driving your face and chest into the floor as it thrust it's cock over your ass. It felt huge on your back, already oozing fluids. You cried out as it found its mark and started pressing against your pussy. It slid off again and again as it thrust madly, over and under you, until it didn't.

The pain almost made you black out. It was bigger than anything you'd had down there, and it wasn't letting up. Again and again it pounded into you until you couldn't see for tears and your screams turned to hoarse whispers.

Only then did it slow. One. Two. Three last mighty pumps into your quivering, punished pussy before it held in its throbbing cock. How breath on the back of your neck, stale and damp. You could feel the cum filling you up, pooling in your womb. It pulled out, your pose stopping any from spilling out despite your loosened hole. Whatever it was was being pulled away from you. Drawn sullenly back to wherever it was kept. 

You didn't move for the rest of the day. Not that you had much choice.

You woke to a bowl in front of you, filled with a tasteless beige slop. You tried not to eat, the food making your stomach turn. You weren't given a choice. You had your face pushed down into it, forced to eat just to make enough space to breathe.

This continued for weeks.

You thought it was just the food at first, making you sick when you woke up. Then you realised you hadn't had a period yet. Then you felt yourself start to grow. Your belly and your tits both getting larger. You couldn't not notice it. They couldn't either.

You woke to someone hefting your tits. They were manhandling them into plastic cups, suctioned on around your growing nipples. Then they turned the machine on.

You groaned. The machine was suckling you. Gently pulsing the suction up and down to start milking your tits. It lasted for hours. Days. Eventually you felt yourself starting to give milk, you saw it flowing down the tubes leading from your body. 

The food changed. It wasn't just flavourless any more. Now there was something different about it, something strange that made your tits and clit tingle and throb. 

It didn't stop. All day and all night the machine would pump out milk, more and more as the drugs and your own body did their work. You felt something else as well. Your clit kept tingling and buzzing, the drugs and the unending stimulation keeping you on edge, always ready to orgasm at any moment. But the moment never came.

The handlers don't touch you now. You hadn't had the creature since the first night. You're nothing but a whimpering cow, mooing and braying on the machines.

Until you aren't.

The handlers are taking notice of you again. You're hearing them talking about you. You're almost ready. 

You wake to someone behind you. You wiggle your ass to get some attention, and feel something strange between your thighs. Your clit feels big and hard against your legs. It must be at least an inch long after all the drugs and the edging. You feel it. Another tube suctioned over your clit. You hear a button clicking on the machine milking you. The cup on your clit starts pulsing in time with the others.

It's too much.

You cum immediately, the orgasm causing your swollen pussy to contract and throb, begging to be filled with something, anything. You moaned and begged for the man behind you to just fuck you already, you didn't care any more, you just wanted him inside you. 

He walked away. 

You don't know how long the orgasm lasts. By the time you can think straight again you're face down in a puddle of drool, your hips still bucking in time with the suckling on your tits and your swollen clit.

The strange taste is still in your food. It feels like every few days your tits grow another size, your clit another inch. 

Then it happens. You can feel something welling up from within you, pulsing through you. It feels like something is travelling up the length of your distended clit, coming closer and closer until inch by tortuous inch it starts.

You cum. Your pussy cleanches and squirts, your body convulses and you thrust your hips forward reflexively.

You can feel something coming out of your clit. Thick, hot cum is flowing out of you in a steady stream, each pulse makes you cry out in ecstasy. 

The drugs, the humiliating position you'd been stuck in for months, the beast growing in your belly, all forgotten.

This is all you want. To kneel here. To be milked for everything you have. To be knocked back up whenever you finally give birth to whatever it is in your belly.

You won't leave here, not for anything

[lxvvie]

hey babes, i dunno if you plan on writing about it or if i just missed it, but i was rereading your dad!simon tag and i saw that you teased reader and their girls being in danger before 👀 how would papa simon react to his enemies finding out about his little family? i love angst and i love your writing 🫶🏻

He found out during deployment. Price had to talk him down. Multiple times.

You were pregnant with Junie. You and Doc had stepped out for a bit. Came back to a ransacked house. Just about everything is broken. The cradle for your newest edition? It's in pieces. You don't know what to do, you're trying not to break down in front of your baby girl, oblivious to it all, and when you call Simon, he doesn't answer.

You managed to send him pictures with shaky hands.

When Simon finally gets to his phone hours later, sees your call, and sees the pictures—"FUCK!"

You answer his call tearily. When you finally answer. You stammer and ramble and tell him you'll see him when you see him. If you see him. Whatever that meant. The nerves were talking and in reality, you were too afraid to see your husband again. Didn't want your children in the middle of whatever the fuck was going on, and no amount of reassurance Simon gave you would calm you down.

You ended the call before you got hysterical. Told him you love him.

And it took all Simon's self-restraint not to fucking lose it.

[wrathofrats]

Im gonna be so annoying with these LMAO

kink rating: Force fem

Pls be annoying I’m about to go on lunch

No | rather not | I dunno | I guess | Sure | Yes | FUCK yes | Oh god you don’t even know |

“But wrath! You’re a cis woman! Why the fuck are you so into force fem” YEAH IDK I CANT FUCKING TELL YOU DAWG

Amazing 10/10 kink even better when you force fem a woman have we considered force femming masc women bc I’ve considered it. I <3 SEXISM!!!!!!

But force femming men is so fun man like I can’t explain why I love it but we Stan force fem in this house so much

[four4ever]

A mystery