#dragging my hands down my face in agony

[pyotrkochetkov]

It's time to #CauseChaos

[starry-bi-sky]

I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt

“Woah. You look like shit."

Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.

The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.

"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."

And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.

The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.

If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.

"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.

"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.

"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.

The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.

He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."

There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.

"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."

Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"

"Daniel? Is that you?"

His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.

[liz-on-leash]

Are you still going to write Eunchae or... 👀

Sponsored Cunt

No tags, read at your own risk!

You sit alone in a lavish hotel suite, eagerly awaiting Eunchae's arrival. You had paid top dollar to have the innocent LE SSERAFIM member all to yourself for her 18th birthday. Anticipation courses through your veins as you hear a knock at the door.

You open it to find Eunchae standing there, a shy smile on her cute face. "Hello~ Thank you for sponsoring my party today!" Her voice is sweet and pure.

You smile back, ushering her inside. "Of course, happy birthday Eunchae-ya. Please, make yourself at home." As the door closes behind her, your smile turns wicked.

Eunchae looks around at the opulent room. "Wow, this suite is amazing. You must really like me to go to all this trouble!" Her naivete is almost laughable.

You step closer, backing her against the wall. "Oh I like you very much, Hong Eunchae. In fact, I've been imagining this moment for a long time now..."

Before she can react, you grab her by the throat, squeezing hard. Eunchae's eyes go wide with shock and fear. "Wh-what are you doing? Let me go!" She croaks out, struggling against your iron grip.

You ignore her pleas, slamming her head back against the wall. Eunchae cries out in pain, her small body going limp. "Stupid girl, didn't you wonder why I'd spend so much money on you? Your manager sold you to me for the night. I own you now."

Keeping your hand around her delicate neck, you rip open her shirt, sending buttons flying. Eunchae whimpers in terror as you grope her budding breasts, pinching and twisting her tender nipples. "You're mine to do with as I please, little girl. And I'm going to break you."

You drag Eunchae into the bedroom and throw her down on the bed. She curls up into a ball, sobbing. "No, please...this can't be happening! I'm a virgin, please don't hurt me!"

Chuckling darkly, you strip off your clothes, revealing your massive, rock hard cock. "A virgin, huh? Well, I'll fix that right up. Scream for me, slut." You growl, roughly yanking her legs apart.

Eunchae screams as you plunge your huge cock deep into her impossibly tight cunt. Her hymen rips open, blood oozing around your invading shaft. "AGHGHGHH NOOOO! IT HURTS, TAKE IT OUT!" She wails, thrashing beneath you.

You laugh sadistically, pounding into Eunchae's torn pussy with brutal force. Her blood smears across your dick and balls. "What a good little cock sleeve...I knew you'd be perfect for raping. This is your new purpose, whore."

Eunchae is too weak from pain and shock to fight anymore. She lies there limply, taking your vicious thrusts into her broken body. You rail her mercilessly, her blood and pussy juices gushing out around your pistoning cock.

Reaching down, you scoop up some of the fluid leaking from her ravaged cunt. Forcing your fingers into her mouth, you make Eunchae taste the proof of her defilement. "Get a load of your own ass juice. Doesn't it taste good to know you're nothing but a set of holes for me to violate?"

Eunchae gags and chokes, tears streaming down her face. But you don't let up, hammering into her abused pussy. The bed creaks and shakes from the sheer force of your thrusts.

After what feels like hours of fucking, you feel your orgasm approaching. Pulling out, you spray your thick load all over Eunchae's battered body. Globs of cum paint her face, tits, and stomach. "Look at you, marked as my cum dump now. I'm going to use you over and over until you're forever broken."

You scoop up Eunchae's limp, cum-soaked form and carry her into the bathroom. Plugging in a handheld shower head, you aim it at her gaping pussy, rinsing out the blood and cum. The gentle pressure makes Eunchae shriek in agony.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for screaming..." She whimpers brokenly, her spirit already shattered. "I'm just a dumb whore now...thank you for raping me sir..."

You smirk in satisfaction, turning off the water. "Good girl. Now get on the bed. I'm going to ruin your ass next, then your throat. We have all night for me to break you in..."

Dragging Eunchae back to the bed, you bend her over and drive your cock into her tiny asshole. She screams like a wounded animal, her body jerking. "NOOO OHH GOD! IT'S SPLITTING ME IN HALF! TAKE IT OOUUUTTT!!"

But you're restless, pounding her ass with animalistic fury. Her blood and shit spray out around your invading cock as you shred her back passage to bits. Eunchae wails like a banshee, her mind splintering from the unbearable agony.

When you're done destroying her ass, you flip Eunchae over and force your bloody, shit-smeared cock down her throat. She gags and chokes violently, tears and snot pouring down her face. You hold her head in place as you brutally face-rape her, her throat bulging obscenely from your huge invading shaft.

Finally, you shoot another massive load straight down Eunchae's gullet. She swallows it convulsively, the excess cum and drool pouring out of her stretched lips. "That's a good cum slut, take it all like the dirty whore."

You collapse next to Eunchae, covered in a mix of piss, shit, cum and other fluids. She lays there in a broken heap, eyes vacant and mouth agape. You've utterly destroyed her mind, body and soul.

As you drift off to sleep, you know you'll never be satisfied with just raping her once. You'll use Eunchae every day, violating her in every way imaginable. She'll be your perfect sex slave.

[rafesangelita]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ RAFE + THE !READER’S AND THEIR KINKS

warnings: dark content ahead! please do not read if you don’t feel comfortable with any of the kinks listed!

a/n: some of these might not be considered ‘kinks’ but instead things that both rafe and !reader may particularly enjoy. special thank you to @nemesyaaa for giving me this idea and always listening to my rambles <3333 consider this my christmas gift to you ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

wc: 5.0k

⭑.ᐟ bambi!reader

cnc: these two have a meeting and go over all of their fantasies. while bambi’s suggestions are more tame, rafe is going all out, suggesting that he kidnaps her, holds her at gun/knife point, along with making another safe word just for the sole purpose of dismissing it. he’s covering bambi’s mouth while she’s screaming for him to get off of her, fucking her with so much force that her body scoots up on whatever surface rafe has her on. she’s pushing away, or trying to at least, and rafe is just so much stronger than her that he doesn’t budge. “look at you, so pathetic and weak..” rafe would laugh at her, making her cry as she helplessly took his cock.

rope play: no one can convince me that rafe wasn’t a boy scout when he was little. he’s very knowledgeable of different knots and ties and made it a point to start experimenting with you, tying you up in grotesque positions purely for his enjoyment. even tying your arms behind your back in intricate weaves was enough to get him going. he’d take full advantage of you in your restraints, fucking you past overstimulation, the mixture of pleasure and pain making you cry out in both agony and bliss. your fingers would gradually grow numb, along with the rest of your body until rafe untied you, indents from the rope adorning your flesh.

outdoor sex: an innocent little picnic can quickly turn into rafe pushing your head into the grass while he fists your panties, dragging them down your thighs before bunching your dress up and slamming into you without warning. he can’t quite pin point when this became a ‘thing’ between you two, but fuck he knew you loved it. maybe it was because of the scenery or being far away from anyone being able to see or hear you two, but sex out in the middle of nowhere was thrilling for you both. bambi already spent a lot of her time outside, so whenever rafe would join her and do what he does best; making her cum around his cock, it was like her two favorite worlds collided.

asphyxiation: this was first done on accident when rafe was fucking your throat and smothering your face at the same time. seeing the way you gasped for air after he pulled you off of his cock was nothing short of gratifying. but seeing the way you were eager to do it again was even better. from that point forward he would do anything and everything to cut off your intake of air. covering your nose when you sucked him off, choking you during sex until you were on the verge of blacking out, pinning you down by your neck so your windpipe was being crushed. of course he educated both you and himself, and took your little taps of surrender very seriously.

predator/prey: the thrill of the hunt and the chase was like no other. whether rafe was chasing bambi in tanneyhill or outside at night time, the promise of getting to do whatever he wanted to her if he captured her was all the encouragement he needed. she’d be hiding, goosebumps spreading across her skin once she couldn’t see rafe anymore. little did she know, he was already creeping up from behind her, a rough hand clamping over her mouth before she could scream. rafe is grunting threats in her ear while she thrashes against him, telling her that she’s powerless and fighting against him is useless. of course, once he has her held down, she’s completely at his mercy.

⭑.ᐟ sheep!reader

slapping: whether rafe is slapping the swells of your tits, the fleshy globes of your ass, or your poor overstimulated clit, he loves seeing your body jolt at his touch. he especially likes slapping you in the face when he’s pounding into you, the small flash of hurt passing over your features shooting straight to his cock. he’s smiling while you’re flinching every time he picks his hand up, his large palm meeting your soft skin with a harsh smack! he knows you’re far too timid and shy to tell him to stop, small whimpers leaving your lips at the stinging sensation. once he’s done with you, your skin is raw and sensitive to the touch, rafe always making sure to soothe you and comfort you afterwards.

corruption: you were just a pretty, clueless virgin when he met you, and still pretty and clueless after he broke you in. rafe still see’s you as a saint even when he’s fingering you to tears, your tight walls spasming around his digits. he treats every time like it’s your first time all overs again, the idea of getting you addicted to his cock was enough to make him cum. he loved to see the confused, yet desperate plea in your eyes for him to turn you inside out. the fact that he’s the only one who has ever seen you unravel makes his chest fill with pride. to know that he’s the one who turned you into a cock-hungry slut to begin with does wonders for his ego.

dacryphilia: rafe does things to purposely make sheep cry. pinching her clit, fucking her so hard that his tip is nudging her cervix with every thrust, grabbing her cheeks and squeezing them together with a bruising grip, he loves seeing those sparkly eyes watering with tears. if he has you on your knees, he won’t stop fucking your throat until you have tears running down your neck and chest. rafe thinks sheep looks prettiest when she’s an utter mess, tear-stained cheeks and swollen lips are his favorite look on her. even when she’s crying and upset about something, he can’t help but guide her hand to his aching length, promising her that she’ll feel better once she makes him cum.

orgasm denial: the way that rafe keeps sheep needy and ready to fuck whenever he wants is by denying her orgasms. waiting until her eyes are rolling to the back of her head before pulling away and making her clench around nothing. “nononono, please, rafe! i need it!” she’s clinging onto him, trying to keep him near as much as she could before he’s swatting her hands away. “gotta keep you on your toes, ‘doll.” he’s rough when he holds her down, stroking himself until he’s painting her tummy with his seed. sexually frustrated and sad that he didn’t fill her up instead, she’s bending to his every will later on when he wants to go for round two.

overstimulation: if sheep isn’t getting denied an orgasm, she’s getting a load of them until she’s physically trying to run away from rafe. while he’s doing everything he can to keep her cumming, she’s convulsing, shaking and trembling, writhing in pain as rafe works her poor, sensitive bud. using his fingers, tongue and cock, he tells sheep to keep count and if she messes up then he has to start from zero again. sheep is brainless after the first three, her train of thought being completely gone as rafe fights with her to keep her thighs open. “no more, no more, no more..” she’s repeating it like a mantra, rafe ignoring her pleas for him to stop.

⭑.ᐟ latina!kook!reader

praise: rafe is having a hard time believing that his favorite latina is even letting him touch her, so he’s doing everything he can to remember this moment. he’s telling you how good your perfume smells, marveling at how soft your skin feels under his touch, admiring and staring at your body in awe as if to remember every curve and detail. you’re looking in his eyes while he raves about never seeing someone as beautiful as you. “you’re so fucking gorgeous, holy shit.” rafe is in disbelief when he finally gets you out of your clothes, his eyes instinctively blinking as he didn’t know what to take in first.. your angelic face, show-stopping tits, or glistening pussy.

language: hearing you speak in your mother tongue is going to do it for rafe every single time. whether you’re cursing at him or grabbing him through his pants, whispering; “lo quiero, papi— i want it, daddy..” his cock springs up at the sound of your voice. you’ve taught him enough spanish for him to reply to certain things, your favorite phrase of his being, “mírame, muñeca— look at me, doll.” when you’re shying away from the intensity of his gaze. rafe loved hearing all the words falling from your lips, especially when a particular thrust of his hips made your voice crack at the end of your sentences. “keep talking to me, hermosa— beautiful, i need to hear you.”

mirror sex: you didn’t have not one bad side. in rafe’s eyes you were absolutely flawless. after the first time you two had sex, he knew immediately that he needed to see you at every angle. getting a mirror installed on the ceiling right above his bed was the first step, then it was a mirrored headboard.. and then two full length mirrors that sat in the opposite corners of his room. the man was obsessed with watching you. if he had you in doggy, he could still get a full view of your face twisting in pleasure along with the bounce of your tits. on days where you wanted to ride him, he’d watch in awe as the globes of your ass met his thighs with a ripple effect adorning the fleshy skin.

body worship: similar to praise, rafe is whispering sweet nothings against your skin, his hands working to massage your calves as he presses kisses to your thighs. he’s holding onto you, eyes closed as he takes in your scent. “you’re so perfect.” rafe sounds like a broken record as he kisses your knuckles, and up your arm to the curve of your shoulder until he finally gets to your lips. his hands are roaming your body even as he’s inside of you, his soft touch a stark contrast to his hard thrusts. not a single inch of your body goes untouched by this man. he pays attention to every single thing, from the crown of your head down to the tips of your toes, he makes sure you feel like a goddess at all times.

tit fucking: having both your tits and your face in his line of vision is a surely a sight to behold. he’s delirious as you gaze up at him, the tip of his cock emerging from between your tits before meeting your tongue. despite you moving yourself up and down, rafe is thrusting from beneath you, the slick sound of his precum making both of you moan. “ah, fuck!” his hips are stuttering everytime you manage to wrap your lips around the tip, his cock twitching with need as you stroke him with ease. he loves seeing the way your lashes flutter up at him when he finishes across your chest, watching with lust-filled eyes as you swipe some of his seed with a manicured finger before popping the digit into your mouth with a smile.

⭑.ᐟ bitchy!kook!reader

choking: while rafe loves to choke you in order for you to keep your sassy remarks to yourself, he nearly loses it when you take charge and wrap your hand around the column of his throat instead. he loves the push and pull of your shared dynamic. when he has you pinned down by your neck, it’s useless to deem it a punishment since you always end up liking the pain more than the pleasure. rafe can’t help but curse to himself at the sight of the smirk adorning your lips when he’s cutting off your airway. “no way you’re loving this shit right now..” both of your voices are hoarse once you’re done with each other, the sound making you two look at each other smugly.

hate sex: you two mastered this before everything else. fucking when you were enemies and nothing more was like a fever dream, both of you fighting to use each other for no other reason besides getting off. you’d push rafe down, bouncing on his cock to keep him from having his way with you, only for him to have your face pressed into the pillows moments later. you two didn’t care if the other felt good or not, it was purely just your way of taking out all of the pent up anger and frustration you two had for eachother. you’d curse at him before he crashed his lips into yours, telling you to ‘shut the fuck up for once and just use your mouth for what it’s supposed to be.’ as he forced you down onto your knees.

impact play: if you and rafe weren’t hitting and shoving each other into his room when you wanted to jump each other’s bones then you weren’t doing it right. slamming you against the wall while he was inside of you, slapping him across the face when he did something a little too hard, it was all apart of your little dance together and you two fucking lived for it. rafe loved that he didn’t have to be so soft and gentle with you, and even more so when he found someone who finally didn’t treat him like he was made of glass and used the same force against him. the roughness and complete disregard for one another’s feelings in those very moments was addicting to say the least.

degradation: this was bitchy!kook!reader’s specialty. telling rafe how stupid and pathetic he is for spamming her phone with desperate texts, telling him he’s worthless and that the only thing he’s good for is being her boy toy. she’s bringing up the times when rafe was begging her to let him eat her out, calling him names and laughing in his face when he looks the slightest bit embarrassed. rafe isn’t letting up on you either, he’s cussing in your ear, calling you a bitch and a ‘spoiled fuckin’ brat’ as he folds you in half. both of you revel in the weight of your insults, the words only making both of you needy to prove the other wrong. ‘just shut your fucking mouth already..’

possessiveness: despite ‘hating’ each other, there’s nothing neither of you hated more than seeing each other in close proximity with someone else. rafe hated your friends, all of them always trying to introduce someone to you in hopes that they could get you to leave rafe alone once and for all. of course, later on that night when the party is over and the place is cleared, he’s pounding into you like he has something to prove. “you’re fuckin’ stupid if you thought i was gonna let you leave with that asshole.” he has you in a head lock, his toned stomach smacking the back of your ass as he choked you out with his bicep. “no one else could ever make you feel like this.”

⭑.ᐟ bitchy!pogue!reader

recording: she’s rafe’s personal pornstar without a doubt. bitchy!pogue!reader knows she looks amazing every second of the day, even when her mouth is full of cock, so when she see’s rafe pull out his camera, she’s really giving him a show. “you fuckin’ slut, i could make millions off of you..” rafe would say after she made him cum on her face and tits. rafe loved to keep documentation of bitchy!pogue!reader almost begging to tears for rafe to fuck her already, the footage coming in handy when she decides to wake up with an attitude and tells him that he’s lucky that you even let him fuck, let alone talk to you. he has the camera in your face the same night, grunting out “aww what’s wrong? ‘still think you’re too good for this cock now?”

rough sex: these two turn ‘rough sex’ into an umbrella term with all of the depraved shit that they do. smacking your skin until you’re bruised, scratching rafe until you draw blood, thrusting into you so hard that you let out a shriek with every stroke of his hips, and this isn’t including all of the choking, biting, and hair pulling that both of you do while you’re at it. rafe is ruthless in the bedroom, often leaving you bedridden by the time he’s done plowing into your poor, sensitive cunt. this was what regular sex was like between you two, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. it drove rafe crazy to know that you were so willing and just as sick and twisted as him to take his shit.

humiliation: this was a two way street for both you and rafe. he would say that he could never be seen with a stripper on his arm since he was sure the entire island had already been with you before, and you would say that you wouldn’t want to be seen with a pathetic loser with daddy issues and a drug problem to cope, anyways. both of you knew that the shit talking that you were doing was only foreplay for the activities you were going to do later. sure enough, he’s taking you in the country club bathroom, all of the grand parents there staring at your provocative outfit in disbelief. “please don’t make me moan loud..” you’d whimper, rafe wrapping a fist in your hair. “nah, you’re gonna let this whole club know that you’re nothing but an easy hooker.”

face fucking: once rafe got started on this, it was never-ending. he’d have you on your knees wherever you two were at, forcing you to keep your hands behind your back as he used your throat like a cock sleeve. he’s pulling at the roots of your hair with a strangled groan, the sound of his length sliding in and out from between your lips making his eyes roll to the back of his head. it’s messy and sticky, your cheeks full of tears as spit and precum dribble down your chin, your jaw aching for a break. “fuck, just look at you.. ‘bet you don’t have shit to bitch about now, do you?” still managing to roll your eyes at him, rafe chuckles to himself before picking up his pace.

dumbification: your walls are fluttering around rafe’s cock when he tells you things like; “you’re a dumb, stupid, slut who doesn’t know how to do anything except take dick.” and calling you a brainless bimbo with nothing but tits for brains. you’re nodding along to his words, not caring about how much he’s dumbing you down. in this very moment, with his hips slamming into yours, you were brainless.. not a single thought behind your fucked out gaze. “just prancing around in your heels like a clueless fuckin’ bunny, not knowing shit..” he’s delivering each word with a punctuated thrust, your back arching into his chest when you feel the rough pads of his fingers on your sensitive clit.

⭑.ᐟ kook!sweetheart!reader

sexting: boyyyy you two can sext for hours at a time. once the clock hits ten and your phone dings with a ‘you up, beautiful?’ from none other than rafe himself, you’re faking a yawn and telling your parents you’re gonna cut the movie short tonight because you’re so sleepy. as soon as you’re laid in your bed, your room door locked until further notice, you’re sending rafe all the pretty nudes you took for him since the last time you two sexted. rafe is fisting his cock as your pictures come in one by one, his bottom lip pulled haphazardly between his teeth to keep himself from moaning out loud. in return, rafe is also sending you pictures of himself. shirtless gym pics, his bulges when he wakes up thinking about you, and your personal favorite; his bare cock and the aftermath of stroking himself to your sexy photos.

lingerie: this was only fitting considering you were a whole designer with your own lingerie brand. rafe hadn’t really developed his kink for fucking you in your lingerie until you started surprising him, the lace and sometimes satin material looking just gorgeous against your skin. besides the obvious fact that you looked stunning in your sets, he thinks the reason why he appreciated it a lot more is because he knows you thought about him when choosing which one to wear. “do you like it?” was possibly the most dumbest question you could’ve ever asked him. of course, you got your answer when he pulled you on top of him, moving your panties over to the side before slamming you down onto his length.

cum play: rafe died and came back to life when he watched you smear his cum over your lips the first time you took his length into your mouth. and then he died again on a separate occasion when he came on your tits, your pretty manicured fingers swirling his seed over your sensitive buds. now every time he finished, if it wasn’t inside of you, he watched with a bated breath as you tasted him before pulling him down into a kiss. your tongues clashed, both of you moaning as you made out with his cum in your mouths. you shared spit, making a mess out of each other until you were begging him to cum again. “please, i want more, rafe..”

pussy eating: he needs it. he needs to have kook!sweetheart!reader’s thighs locked down to his shoulders while he works his skillful tongue on her pussy. she’s whimpering above him, wrapping her hands around his large fingers as he gently circles her clit. rafe is easily eating her out for an hour before another hour passes and she’s a mess. having orgasmed at least ten times, rafe is very controlled and knows how to bring her up before pushing her over the edge and letting her fall ever so graciously into another orgasm one after the other. the lower half of his face is soaked, and when he looks up at you from between your thighs, the sight of him is burned into your mind forever.

cockwarming: one of rafe’s favorites. whenever you and rafe are in the bliss of aftercare, he stays nestled inside of you, both of you kissing each other lazily while he rubbed soothing circles into your skin. “think you could keep still?” you teased, rafe laughing softly as you clenched around him, almost as if to provoke him to move. not even ten minutes later, you’re slowly circling your hips, desperate for any kind of friction while rafe holds you in place. “i knew you were gonna put out.” rafe groaned, moving gently as he rolled over on top of you. ignoring him, you dug your heels into his lower back, prompting him to keep going. “yeah, yeah, just fuck me— oh!”

⭑.ᐟ farmer’s!daughter!reader

size kink: cowboy!rafe is hugeee, and (un)fortunately for you, also hung like a fucking horse. his entire body envelopes yours when he’s on top of you, only half of his cock fitting inside of you before he’s forcing you to take the whole thing. feeling like his length and the sheer girth of him is splitting you open, you’re looking down at where you two are connected, your eyes wide as you see what looks like a belly bulge coming up from under your flesh. “ohmygodohmygodohmygod!” you’re delirious as the big, strong man above you drills into you at an unforgiving speed. his hand is large enough to wrap around the entirety of your neck, your chest caving in once you felt the band in your tummy snap.

dirty talk: rafe knew exactly what to say in order to get your cheeks heating. “you don’t think i know wet you are right now? i bet i could slip right in ya’..” you’re gasping at the lewdness of his words, hiding your face from his view as he stroked the exposed flesh of your waist. “ray!” you laughed nervously, both of you hiding in his little house that was in the back of your own. “you know i’m right.. that’s why you’re getting all shy on me right now.” he scoots closer, his lips trailing along your collarbone. “let me take this shirt off, ‘get these tits in my mouth.” being around a horny cowboy wasn’t good for your heart. “oh, my word! your mouth is filthy!”

daddy kink: the basis of you and rafe’s relationship was that you were together secretly, your father forbidding rafe from dating you, let alone looking in your direction. he wasn’t fond of your dad for that very reason. every time he’s asking you who your pussy belongs to, he’s forcing you to refer to him as a different name other than his own. “you, daddy! oh, fuck, i belong to you!” you’re crying out, the name falling from your lips before you could stop it. the fact that he had you, the farmer’s daughter, in his bed, calling him daddy when he knew your actual father hated him, stroked his ego more than your cunt did. “yeah, i’m your daddy? say it again.” you oblige, your eyes screwing shut as the plap of your ass against his thighs echoed in your ears.

mating press: seeing your glossy eyes gaze up at him while he had your knees pressed to your chest was hands down one of his favorite sights. with the back of his hands sitting underneath your hips, your lower half was slightly elevated, your needy cunt guaranteed to take all of his cum. in this position, you swore it felt like he was in your tummy. “nghhh— can’t, rafe!” you shook your head, your eyes brimming with tears as he leaned down, taking your lips in a bruising kiss. “shhh, of course you can, sweetheart, you’re doing so good for me right now.” the wet squelch of your cunt made rafe keen, his lips wet with your spit. “gonna fill you up to the fuckin’ brim..”

breeding kink: you dreamed about having cowboy!rafe’s babies, both of you always talking about having little ones running around the farm. rafe saw it vividly— your pretty round belly, swollen with his seed, a baby on your hip while you greeted him after a full day of work. it’s all he could envision while he’s pumping in and out of you, your sweet moans sounding against his skin. “i’m gonna make you such a pretty mom, baby, you just fuckin’ wait.” he grunted, throwing your legs over his shoulders as he went even deeper inside your cunt. biting back tears, you let out a half-sob as he continuously hit that sensitive spot along your velvety walls. “you’d want that, right?” rafe still asks even though his mind is already made up. “duh!”

⭑.ᐟ pogue!sweetheart!reader

spanking: rafe blamed your mini skirts for his hyper fixation with your ass. he’d be groping you every chance he could get, the spanking factor coming in when you pretended to drop something one day, your boyfriend wasting no time in draping you over his lap and giving you the attention you were so clearly asking for. he spanked you so hard, you couldn’t help but cry out every time his hot palm met your flesh. “you asked me for this, don’t forget that..” he said through gritted teeth, smirking to himself as you continued to let him spank you with an unforgiving force. rafe was always so gentle with you, you loved when he switched things up and disregarded your pain sometimes..

food play: pogue!sweetheart!reader is basically our little strawberry shortcake. always whipping things up in the kitchen with rafe pressed against her ass was bound to lead to some interesting experiments. first it was strawberries, you and rafe sharing one before he dragged the fruit up the curve of your neck, licking the sweet, succulent juice that had dripped down to you chest. the second time around, before you two decided to incorporate it more regularly, you two were having a lazy day, both of you sharing some whipped cream you had made. you had playfully licked some off of rafe’s finger before he got the crazy idea to lick it from other places, too..

cream pie: rafe was obsessed with watching his cum drip out of you. he’d pull out halfway while you were still clenching around him, forcing you to look down so you could see the glorious sight of his twitching cock filling you up before pulling out altogether. you two would wait with bated breath’s, a moan leaving your lips as you felt the warm ropes of cum slowly drip out of your entrance. rafe’s chest would be rising and falling as he used the tip of his cock to smear his seed up and down your folds, even taking the time to circle your sensitive clit. “oh, fuck, this is amazing..” he’d marvel, gathering the sticky succulence before pushing it back into you.

marathon sex: with pogue!sweetheart!reader’s camper being far away from everyone on the island, it was like you and rafe were dead to the world as you moaned and screamed as loud as you wanted. completely losing the concept of time, you and rafe went at it until someone tapped out, neither of you tiring easily when you were too busy getting thrown over the edge time and time again. one night in particular, you and rafe were doing what you usually did before bed, your legs wrapped around his waist as he thrusted into you and you just couldn’t get enough. both of you kept going without any intentions of stopping. it wasn’t until rafe finally called it that you two noticed the blue morning sky peeking through your curtains that you realized you had just fucked for hourssss

soft/vanilla sex: rafe loved taking his time with you, especially because he knew you were sentimental about everything. holding your hands while his head was working between your thighs, looking into your eyes the whole time he was pounding into you, the gentle touches against your skin as he hoisted you up further onto your bed, it was all his way of handling you with care. he’d peck the tip of your nose when you were cumming, his fingers bringing you down from your high as he held you against his chest. whispering praises in your ear, rafe wouldn’t start aftercare until you were gazing up at him lovingly, and that was even sweeter.

[ophelia-ophelian]

Special Umbrella

Mr. Scarletta x Reader

A/N: This is 100% inspired by those silly tiktoks where Mr. Scarletta’s umbrella isn’t his heart and that it's actually his d*ck. This was originally going to be a short shitpost, but I got a little carried away :>  Also this is my first time writing smut so please lmk what you think!

Contains: gender neutral reader, improper use of an umbrella, hand stuff, and grinding. Lmk if I missed anything

Keep running. He’s going to catch up and physical attacks don’t work on him. You chant to yourself as you sprint down the mysterious hallways of this world. You take a sharp turn around the next corner before you dig your heels into the ground as you notice the space in front of you glitching and the man with the red clothes and umbrella appear in front of you. As static fills your ears and your vision going blurry, you hear the scratching voice of the man surround you, “Give name?” You rear your head to try and get away before you feel a shooting behind your eyes, bringing you to your knees in pain. As you scratch at the ground to attempt and crawl away, he appears in front of you again – you only see his sleek black shoes through the hair falling infront of your face – he repeats, “Give name? Want name.”

You scream out in agony as the static in your ears increase to a deafening scream before everything in front of you is mixed together. You raise your hand to grab something, anything, to stand and get away from Mr. Scarletta. As you hover your hand, your feelings of pain bubble over into pure rage as you scream out and a loud bang surrounds you and fills the hallway and everything falls silent other than a clatter of the red umbrella falling to the ground. Gasping, you are able to stagger over to the umbrella and grab it, his voice appears in your head again, demanding your name. You drop it, shaking with anger. After you wipe the sweat from your brow and press your fingers to your eyelids to ground yourself, you pick up the umbrella again to inspect it.

Slowly dragging your fingers up and down the material of the red umbrella, turning it over in your hands, you feel a shiver go up your spine. You freeze, clearly taken aback before you continue your inspection. You grip the base, wrapping your hand over the hook and twisting the umbrella in your hand and then you hear it, a low gasp and then a sigh. Surprised, you drop the umbrella and take a few steps back, preparing to take off again and get as far away from Mr. Scarletta as you can before you back into something solid. You slowly look up in fear as you see his ever unblinking eyes peering into yours, his ghostly skin tinted pink, and his void of a mouth hang slightly open.

“Want more,” he breathes out, a clammy hand gripping your arm with the other pushing the umbrella that was once on the ground back into your hands. He moves your hands to grip the umbrella firmer, leaning more into you as you comply. The shakeyness in his breath becomes more laborsome as you move your hands up and down on the umbrella. Slowly, his own hands slither around to the front of your raincoat, beginning to bunch it up as his hands tightly grip the inside of your thighs, dragging his hands higher and higher before grabbing your hips and pushing your ass back into him. He begins to grind against you and completely moves your raincoat up so that only your underwear and ass are exposed. “Want…Want more,” he groans out, his head dropping next to your ear and breathing out heavily. He lets out another moan before licking a stripe up the side of your neck. 

The same shiver up your spine returned as Mr. Scarletta moved a hand from your hip to the inside of your thigh, rubbing you through your underwear as his other hand traveled up to grip your neck. Head lolling to the side, you move your gaze and make eye contact, he then leans down and kisses you, hand moving from your neck to your jaw so that the kiss deepens. In between gasps, he asks again, “Give name?” Breathing heavily, too caught up in the lust filled daze, you shakily reply with your name. “Excellent,” he replies, tightening his grip on your face before diving back in to kiss you feverishly and speeding up his hand. 

Too caught up with this euphoric feeling, you climax on his hand and whimper into his mouth then slump in his arms. As you come down from your high, he cradles you, kisses the sides of your face, and chants, “You, me, together,” into your ear. 

Humming in satisfaction you affirm, “You, me, together.” He smiles wider and pets your head, repeating it back again. These affirmations made you realize in your post clarity that you gave Mr. Scarletta your name, the only task every creature here said to not do. Throwing care into the wind, you relax further into his embrace and press soft kisses into his neck, humming in satisfaction. 

“You, me, together.”

“You, me, together."

[dixons-sunshine]

The Archer’s Girl | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: When the world ended, you and Daryl narrowly escaped the clutches of the dead and found yourselves in a quarry camp with Merle and some other people. Unwanted, someone in the camp took a weird liking and disliking to you, and it made you extremely uncomfortable. Luckily, Daryl was there to stand up for you.

Genre: Fluff, some angst.

Era: Outbreak day; The Quarry.

Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams AU but can be read as a standalone.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of morning sickness.

Word count: 4.4k.

A/N: Damn, I love when two requests correspond with each other and I can get them both into one fic. It’s my favourite thing in the whole world. I feel like Daryl is kinda ooc in this, but I tried to imagine how he’d be with a woman he just met at the quarry and started forming a relationship with vs how he’d be with someone he’s been with since he was a teenager, and in my mind, he’d totally be softer regarding someone he already knows and loves vs one he’s just started getting to know. So soft!Daryl in this, it is! Anyways, I hope you like this!

Barely one minute prior, you had strayed from Daryl’s side to go grab some milk. You had told him that you would be right back, but with all the chaos that had suddenly unfolded in front of you, you highly regretted leaving him at all. With everything going to hell, you could be separated from the man you loved. That thought terrified you.

“Daryl!” you called out, attempting to push past the stampede of people trying to hurriedly evacuate the store you were in. You were abruptly shoved into one of the shelves, a sharp pain shooting up into your ribs. A loud curse escaped your lips as you clutched your side.

However, as you turned around, nothing terrified you more than the sight that beheld you.

On the floor, a woman was screaming in pure, unadulterated agony. On top of her was a man whose body appeared to be decaying, and he ripped a huge chunk of her flesh from her chest. His grimy hands were clawing at her stomach, and with little to no effort, he tore her stomach open. The sight was truly mortifying, and it would never be erased from your mind.

A hand grabbed your wrist from behind. You flinched and tried to rip your hand from the person’s grip, but the familiar voice of your husband calmed you down. However, when you looked at him, you were surprised to note the splatter of dark blood all over his clothes and face.

“S’me! S’jus’ me!” he hurriedly explained. He cast one glance to the horrific sight in front of you before dragging you along with him, the two of you moving quickly. He stopped momentarily in front of one of the shelves to grab two knives, carefully pushing one of them into your hold. “Ya see one’a these dead motherfuckers, ya stab ‘em in the head, alright? S’the only way they drop dead.”

“What? I don’t��”

“Dun’ think ‘bout it, Peach!” he cut you off, pulling you with him out of the store again. “They ain’t alive. The news weren’t lyin’ to us ‘bout the dead risin’. We got a real fuckin’ problem on our hands now.”

Choosing to trust his judgement, you nodded and hurried next to him. The two of you ran down the sidewalk, heading in the direction of your apartment. As you continued onward, you highly regretted deciding to walk to the store instead of taking Daryl’s truck. It would have been a whole lot easier to escape the mess surrounding you if you had a vehicle.

Just as the two of you arrived at your apartment building, about a dozen of the undead people were stumbling out of the door. Daryl quickly pulled you with him to the parking area instead, making a beeline for his truck. However, more of those things flooded the area and a couple of them were heading straight towards you, and it was clear that the two of you weren’t escaping without a fight.

“Ya got yer knife?” Daryl questioned, shooting a glance at you over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” you told him, gripping the knife so tightly your knuckles started turning white.

“Good,” he replied, stepping forward to plunge his knife into the skull of one of the monsters. He withdrew the knife, holding it ready to use at a moment’s notice. “Ya gotta stab ‘em in the head as hard as ya can, alright? Dun’ think ‘bout ‘em bein’ alive. These assholes ain‘t livin’ no more.”

“Don’t worry about me trying to talk them out of eating me or something,” you scoffed, replicating the way he was holding his knife with your own. “I’m not that stupid. All these fuckers are getting from me is a fatal blow to the head. They’re not touching me.”

“That’s my girl,” he praised you with a small smile. However, his attention soon got diverted back towards the flood of the undead stumbling around in the parking area.

As the two of you continued onwards, Daryl repeatedly stabbed the heads of the monsters. By some miracle, the two of you made it to his truck without you having to do anything. However, just as Daryl was getting into the driver’s seat and you were opening the door to the passenger seat, a slimy, blood-covered hand gripped your arm tightly in its clutches.

You let out a small cry of terror, instantly alerting Daryl to your horrifying predicament. However, as you struggled against the literal death grip of the monster, its teeth trying desperately to take a chunk of your flesh, you realized that you couldn’t wait for Daryl to come to your rescue. By the time he would have managed to make it towards the other side of the truck, you would already be doomed. You had to take matters into your own hands.

Shakily, you drew your hand that held the knife back and plunged it deep into the thing’s skull with a sickening force. The monster miraculously fell limp with the first blow, its hand falling from your arm. However, before you could fully process that you had just killed something that was once human, Daryl took your face in his hands and checked you over, his eyes filled with fear. You had never seen him with as much terror in his eyes ever before.

“Are ya okay?” he asked in a hurried manner, his voice shaky as his blue eyes searched your body for any signs of hurt or discomfort. “Please tell me the prick didn’t get ya. No bites, no scratches, nothin’.”

“I’m okay,” you assured him, watching him calm down somewhat. “But we have to leave. Right now.”

“Yeah, let’s g—”

The deafening sound of a gunshot echoed through the area, followed closely by the rumble of a motorcycle. When the motorcycle came into view, you were both simultaneously relieved and disappointed to see none other than Merle Dixon. He stopped his motorcycle once he saw you, an exasperated look on his face.

“Y’all jus’ gon’ stand there and get eaten or get in the fuckin’ truck? I did not risk my life gettin’ here jus’ to watch y’all become a mid-day snack.”

Daryl opened the door to the passenger side and quickly ushered you in, shouting over his shoulder at Merle. “What the fuck are ya even doin’ here?!”

“Helpin’ yer sorry ass!” Merle exclaimed, shooting at another oncoming monster. “C’mon, let’s go!”

Daryl did not need to be told twice. He rushed to the driver’s side and hurriedly got in, starting up his truck and speeding out of the parking area, following behind Merle’s motorcycle. With all the chaos that had unfolded, the two of you hadn’t even managed to go grab some clothes from your apartment. However, by some stroke of luck, as you glanced towards the back of the truck, you noted that two duffel bags were resting there, as well as a bag with everything needed to construct a tent, as well as Daryl’s crossbow. You thanked your lucky stars that the two of you had gone camping for his hunting trip two days prior, and forgot to remove everything from his truck. The clothes were dirty, sure, but once you found a body of water, you’d be able to wash them. And Daryl’s crossbow would more than likely come in handy.

“Are ya okay?” Daryl asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. He was nervously chewing on his thumbnail, his eyes darting between you and the road.

You nodded at him, trying to calm your racing thoughts. In a matter of thirty minutes, your life had flipped upside down. You had killed someone, whether they were dead or not. The blood from the kill coated your skin and made you feel sick at your actions, but you tried to remind yourself that the thing you killed was not human anymore. If you didn’t kill it, it would’ve killed you. It would’ve killed—

Gasping, you sat upright and clutched at your stomach. Daryl looked at you worriedly, his eyes trailing to your stomach. His eyes widened in terror, his grip on the steering wheel tightening even more, if that was even possible.

“What’s wrong?” he questioned in alarm. “Oh, god. S’somethin’ wrong with Peanut? Did those pricks—”

“No! No, nothing’s wrong,” you reassured him, your hand resting on your stomach. “It’s just... With everything going on, I forgot about the baby. I forgot about my own child, Daryl. What kind of future mother does that make me?”

Daryl moved one of his hands to rest on your thigh, his thumb rubbing reassuring circles on the fabric of your jeans. He sent you a small smile, hoping to bring you some comfort.

“S’okay,” he told you. “Yer not gon’ be a bad mom. With everythin’ goin’ on, yer body went into fight or flight mode. S’cause of it that ya managed to keep the baby in yer belly safe. And once they’re here, I know yer gon’ do yer absolute best to protect ‘em. They’ve got the best damn mama ever.”

One month had passed. One month since the dead had started walking. One month since everything you knew had gotten destroyed. One month since you had stumbled upon a quarry camp filled with other survivors with your husband and brother-in-law. One month since your life had been turned upside down.

“I hope so,” you mumbled, resting your hand that wasn’t on your stomach over his hand that rested on your thigh. “I really hope so.”

You sighed as you washed one of Daryl’s jeans, subtly listening to the other women making conversation, the women sitting quite a distance from you. Most of the ladies in the small camp you were in tended to keep their distance from you, deeming you damaged goods due to the people you were with. Well, more so because Merle was your brother in law. You and Daryl tended to keep to yourselves, with Daryl only speaking to others when absolutely necessary, but the same couldn’t be said for his hotheaded older brother. Merle had made quite the first impression on your fellow survivors, and not a good one. And automatically, by mere association, they had deemed you and Daryl the same. Most of the women simply referred to you as the archer’s girl, and you were pretty sure they didn’t even know your actual name.

Most of the women didn’t even bother acknowledging your existence most of the time. The only exception was a sweet woman named Carol Peletier, who offered you her kindness whenever she saw or spoke to you. She offered you advice on how to properly scrub stains from jeans, on how to fix up the holes in your husband’s socks, and so much more than that as well. She was the only one who you had felt comfortable enough sharing the secret of your pregnancy with, and even though she promised not to tell anyone, she silently offered you her support, and gave you advice regarding your pregnancy by telling you stories about her own pregnancy with little Sophia. Carol was your only true friend there, and you appreciated her on a profound level.

Without her, you probably would have snapped at the other women there for the judgemental looks they threw your way, so you deeply cherished the friendship you had formed with her.

The touch of a calloused yet gentle hand drew you from your thoughts. You looked up and locked eyes with your husband, his blue eyes staring down at you with a softness reserved only for you. You sent him a smile and dropped the pair of jeans you were washing on the ground, standing up to face him better.

“Ya know all’a that washin’ s’now ruined ‘cause ya dropped it in the mud, right?” he told you playfully, sending you a small smile.

You smiled and shrugged. “It’s your jeans. I’ve never heard you complain about a little mud on them before, considering those kills you have to skin that stained these jeans in the first place.”

Daryl chuckled and shook his head. “Yeah, yer right,” he replied, before his smile fell and he adapted a more serious tone. “I have to go huntin’.”

“Again?” you asked incredulously, your mood visibly deflating. “You went on a hunt not even two days ago.”

“Yeah, I know,” Daryl said with a heavy sigh, fidgeting with his hands. “But that Shane prick demanded that I go on another hunt again for some reason. I dun’ know why, ‘cause we have enough meat to last us another week or so, but he threatened to throw us out’a the camp if I didn’t go now. We can’t leave. ‘Specially not now.”

Your lips formed into a small smile as Daryl’s eyes trailed down to your stomach, his eyes softening slightly as he thought about the life that fluttered there beyond the skin, the life that he had helped create. His very own son or daughter. A small being that he would go to great lengths to protect, even if they weren’t born yet. His little Peanut.

You stepped forward and pressed a chaste kiss against his cheek, before withdrawing again. You giggled at the blush that spread across his face, and you did not miss the way his lips twitched up into a small smile. He could say whatever he wanted, but he secretly loved your little public displays of affection. It was never something big, like some passionate kiss or a full-blown make out session or something along those lines. It was always something small and sweet, something quick to show your affection without drawing too much attention to the two of you. A subtle graze of your hand against his, quick pecks on the cheek, a gentle squeeze on his shoulder, you name it. You knew how to show him love in public without making him uncomfortable, and he loved you for it.

“How long will you be gone?” you asked, nervously fidgeting with your fingers.

Daryl noticed and subtly took your hands in his, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “Ain’t no tellin’. Walsh demanded that I find some venison, and that might take me a while. Dun’ even know if there are any deer here.”

You pursed your lips and nodded. “Stay safe, okay? I love you.”

Daryl nodded. Stepping out of his own comfort zone, he leaned down and pressed a feathery light kiss to your lips. When he pulled back, he gently caressed your cheek. “Always am. And I love ya more, Sweetheart.”

With that, he turned around and left, leaving you standing alone with the unfinished laundry. Watching his retreating figure, you smiled fondly, completely missing the envious looks the other women were sending your way.

They had not heard your conversation, the two of you being too far away to overhear anything, but they did see the way the archer interacted with you. It was so vastly different from the way he talked to anyone, including his own brother, his own flesh and blood. It was clear there was a lot of history between the two of you, good and bad, and it made the two of you a strong couple. From what Merle had let slip in his high state once, the two of you had been together since you were both merely seventeen years old, and by the looks of it, the two of you were still going strong. The two of you radiated love for one another, and that’s more than most could say about their own past relationships.

Three days had passed. Three days where Daryl was nowhere to be found. Three days where you had to deal with Merle’s disgusting attitude on your own. Three days where you had to sleep alone in your shared tent, wishing, praying that he was there beside you.

It was clear the two of you shared something special, a deep, profound bond that went beyond what the naked eye could see, and it felt unfair to them that they couldn’t find love like that. And with the world at its end, they doubted that they ever would be able to.

It seemed like Baby Dixon noticed their father’s absence, and they weren’t a fan of it. For the past three days, you had not managed to keep anything down in the depths of your stomach. Any and all food you ate came right back up again within a few hours, and it was not exactly pleasant. Thankfully, nobody saw you whenever you rushed to the bushes behind the RV to spew out the contents of your stomach, so nobody knew of your pregnancy just yet.

And you had Carol by your side whenever your stomach rebelled against you, so that was a major plus for you.

“God, I hate this so much,” you groaned in frustration, eliciting a laugh from the woman gently rubbing your back.

“It’s what comes with the joys of pregnancy,” she laughed lightly, continuing the circular motion on your back until you felt better. Once you stood upright, she handed you a bottle of water, encouraging you to drink as much as you needed to. “Drink up. You need to stay hydrated.”

Once you had enough to drink, you handed her the bottle again. “Thank you,” you thanked her, giving her a small smile. “How’d you handle it? The morning sickness, I mean.”

“I was lucky enough to only experience a mild case of morning sickness,” Carol explained, wrapping her arm around you and starting to walk with you back to the main campsite. “You know, and I’m not saying this to pressure you at all, but maybe you should tell everyone about your pregnancy. It would be good for Glenn to be on the lookout for prenatal vitamins.”

“I can’t,” you denied instantaneously. “Then everyone will look at me like I’m carrying the black plague and see me as just another liability. I can’t have that. Daryl and I can handle things on our own until we absolutely have to tell everyone.”

“Okay,” Carol replied, before shifting the conversation away from something that quite obviously stressed you out, and she knew that stress was not good for the baby. “I drank a lot of herbal teas when I was pregnant. That seemed to really work for the nausea.”

“Just great,” you sighed, shaking your head. “Where the fuck are we supposed to find that?”

Carol smiled and gently rubbed your shoulder. “I’ll see if Dale has some. I remember him mentioning something about ginger tea.”

“What if he asks why you need it?” you asked hurriedly with worry evident in your tone.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell him,” she reassured you. “I’ll just tell him I’m feeling nauseous. That something I ate isn’t corresponding with my stomach. Trust me, he’ll believe it.”

You sent her a smile. “Thanks, Carol. I mean it.”

She smiled at you before disappearing into the RV, on a search for Dale. You stood waiting outside, staring ahead at the treeline. You hoped that by continuously looking at it, your husband would appear from the trees with a deer over his shoulders, dirty but unharmed. Alas, as you had learned over the last few days that has passed, that did not work, and you wished you could go out there and look for him yourself, but you knew he’d be beyond mad if you did.

No, your main priority was your baby at that moment. Your husband had shown time and time again that he could take care of himself, so you chose to believe that he would be fine. You had to believe that, otherwise you would spiral into an abyss you did not want to go down.

The feeling of somebody standing next to you startled you. You stumbled and nearly fell, but the hands of the mystery person caught you. Looking up, you locked eyes with the self-appointed leader of the group, Shane Walsh. His brown eyes were staring down at you, a small grin on his face.

“Sorry, girl. Didn’t mean to startle you,” he apologized, slightly rubbing your arms.

“What’s your story, lady?” he asked curiosly, leaning back against the metal of the RV, his eyes trailing over you in a way you did not like.

Feeling extremely uncomfortable, you shrugged his hands from your arms and took a step back, putting some distance between the two of you. You sent him a tight-lipped smile. “It’s okay,” you replied, hoping that he would end the conversation with that. However, the man had other plans.

“My story?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “What’s a pretty girl like yourself doing with a low life nothing like Daryl Dixon? I mean, you could have anyone you want, but you chose him, the good-for-nothing redneck. Why?”

“Because I love him,” you stated matter-of-factly, sending him a harsh glare that only seemed to spur him on even more.

“Bullshit. There’s gotta be something to it,” he disagreed, chuckling at the glare on your face. “There’s no way that a guy like that managed to pull someone like you. It goes against all the laws of the universe. So tell me, what’s he got to offer? Is he paying you? Are you some prostitute he keeps around for his own pleasure or something? You certainly look pretty enough to have a guy pay you for something like that.”

Before you could stutter out an angry reply to Shane’s deeply offensive, deprecating accusation, a hand gently gripped your shoulder and pulled you aside. Looking up, you saw Daryl, an angry look in his eyes. Without a word, he stepped forward and viciously connected his fist with Shane’s nose, hearing the satisfying crack of the bone there.

“Son of a bitch!” Shane exclaimed, bending over to clutch his nose in his hands. “What the fuck, Dixon?!”

Daryl gripped Shane by the collar of his shirt and shoved him against the side of the RV, a threatening glare on his face. Terror filled Shane’s eyes, something unusual for the for the former sherrif’s deputy. Everyone started gathering around the fighting pair, and Carol, who had rushed from the RV once she had heard the commotion, pulled you back from the battle ground, holding you firmly against her side.

“Listen’a me real fuckin’ close, Walsh,” Daryl spat angrily, his voice dangerously low. “I dun’ care what ya say ‘bout me, but if ya ever talk ‘bout my pregnant wife like that again, I’ll do so much worse than jus’ break yer nose. Ya dun’ talk to her, ya dun’ look at her, ya dun’ even breathe the same fuckin’ air as her. If ya do, I’ll skin ya alive and feed the remainin’ pieces of ya to the walkers. Do I make myself clear?”

“Fuck you,” Shane groaned out.

“Yer venison’s on the table. Next time, go hunt for it yer fuckin’ self.”

Without waiting for a response, Daryl shoved Shane harshly and turned around, meeting your eyes. Instead of finding fear in your eyes from his actions, he found adoration instead. You stepped out of Carol’s hold and took Daryl’s hand in your own, dragging him to your shared tent. You didn’t even spare a glance at the people, so you missed the way all of their eyes widened at the realization that you were pregnant, that they had been unnecessarily rude to a pregnant lady that had done absolutely nothing wrong to them. They had been harsh to an expecting mother and father, and for no reason at all. Everyone felt guilty, but the groan that Shane emitted caught their attention once again.

“I’m not mad, you know,” you finally broke the silence, watching the way his ocean-coloured eyes flickered over to you, the confusion evident in them. “Shane got what he deserved. Quite honestly, I planned on punching him, too. You just beat me to it.”

Back in your shared tent with Daryl, you were stood busy, gently cleaning the blood from his split knuckles whilst the man sat on the cot. Daryl was avoiding your eyes, feeling ashamed of his actions. In all the years that you had been together, you had only seen him lash out like that once—one time when you were drinking together in a bar when you were twenty-four, a guy had grabbed your breast without your consent, and Daryl had completely lost it. After that, he swore he would never act like that around you ever again, but Shane had made him break that promise.

“M’sorry,” Daryl mumbled, ducking his gaze to the floor. “I know ya can fight yer own battles. S’jus’... Hearin’ the way he talked ‘bout ya, like ya were some object whose worth he could judge... I dun’ know. It made me pissed. Ya dun’ deserve to be treated like that, ‘specially not when yer carryin’ a baby in yer belly.” He sighed and placed his good hand on your stomach. “Speakin’ of, m’sorry I revealed that yer pregnant. I know ya wanted to keep that hidden for as long as possible.”

You smiled and gently lifted his chin with your finger, gazing deeply into his eyes. “It’s okay. They would’ve found out eventually,” you told him, gently cupping his cheek. “Look at you, always so considerate about everyone else except yourself. You’re amazing, Daryl Dixon.”

Daryl blushed. “Yer the amazin’ one,” he countered, leaning forward to rest his forehead on your stomach. He placed a small kiss to the clothed skin. “Peanut’s gon’ have one hell of a mama.”

“And one hell of a daddy,” you replied, bringing one of your hands to thread through his hair. “I love you, Daryl.”

“Love ya more, Peach,” Daryl murmured, closing his eyes at the comforting feeling, his head still resting against your stomach. “Love ya too, Peanut,” he whispered to your belly, and it made you smile.

The serene moment was soon interrupted. The soft calling from Carol grabbed your attention, and you giggled at the groan Daryl let out.

“Y/N?” she called out. “I’ve got that ginger tea I promised you.”

“Ginger tea?” Daryl questioned, looking up at you.

“Yeah. I got a bunch of morning sickness without you around for some reason. It seems like Baby Dixon doesn’t like it when their daddy’s not here.”

“Good,” Daryl chuckled, rubbing your stomach affectionately. “Then I guess ya won’t mind if I stick ‘round.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, pretending to think about it before letting out a light giggle. “I guess I’ll keep you around.”

“That’s real good to hear.”

Before you could respond, you heard the bellowing voice of your brother-in-law. You groaned in frustration, praying that Carol had gotten out of the line of fire, because your tent was about to become a war ground.

“When the fuck were ya plannin’ on tellin’ me ya got that lil’ whore’a yers pregnant?”

Daryl visibly tensed up at his brother’s words, anger flaring up in his eyes, and you knew that another beating was about to commence. “The fuck did ya jus’ say, Merle?!”

“Ya heard me, boy.”

God, you hated Merle with a fiery passion, and you doubted that it would ever change. But you loved Daryl, and you knew that as long as you had him by your side, you could face anything.

Yeah, your little Peanut was gonna have the best father ever.

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

[konigsblog]

periods with simon riley ... (because im on my period!!) ☀️

he doesn't have a uterus, he understands why you bleed, just not how to take care of it. simon finds you curled up in bed in the middle of the afternoon, sighing deeply before pulling the covers off you, revealing a sad, sobbing mess.

you have your hands covering your stomach in agony as your cramps worsen, your lower back pain increasing as you're laying in an uncomfortable position, and the only thing you want is chocolate and a bath. he coos at you, sitting beside you and nestling his hands in your hair in a soothing manner, your forehead hot and your face flushed as your cramps cause your stomach to churn and twist.

through discomfort, you grip his hand, whining for his help as the pain continues. he feels you drag his hands to your stomach, presses flat against it, using them as a hot water bottle. “'s alright, princess. what can i help you with?” simon's voice is tender and loving, soft and gentle, his hand coming up to cup your jaw. “bath, please.” he hears your whimper, sitting upright and pulling you into his arms, taking you to the bathroom as he fills the bathtub with warm, hot water.

you lean back, your back pain spreading down and making you wince. he adds the bubbles, a bath bomb giving it a pretty gradient, lights dimmed to ease your headache. “there, pretty girl. just relax f'me, yeah?” the bubbles around you soak your body, feeling him squirt some body wash onto his hands and apply it to your leg. he treats you like you're unwell, trying to make you feel comforted, eyes glossy from the pain.

the scent of roses and flowers, a hint and note if vanilla soothe you. the smell hits your nose, making you hum in approval as you give him a weak smile a small ‘thank you’. the towel wrapped around your body, drying you off before slipping some comfy pjamas bottoms on, a hoodie of his around you.

watches you favourite movie with your while rubbing your back, occasionally adding pressure to relieve the pain, your head rested on his lap, fallen into a sleepy haze with soft snores leaving your lips. perhaps, you two should just sleep on the couch. he doesn't want to deak with your grumpiness after being awoken and moved to bed ...

[littlemelaninfics]

Just One More

WARNING: Overstimulation, crying reader, language, fingering

“No, no, no, no!”

There you are, 4 orgasms in and writhing wildly in Bucky’s arms as he continues to rub circles around your clit. You're trembling with tears streaming down your face while you desperately try to get away from the torturous manipulation of his hands. All he could do was smile as he keeps the cold, heavy metal of his left arm tight around you middle.

He kept pulling you back into his chest when you couldn't help but buck your hips and gasps for breath, “Bucky… please… no more, I can’t-”. He puts two fingers in your abused opening,

“Yes, you can,” he says sternly, mouth pressed to your ear. The bass in his voice vibrates the wires in your brain. He's all you crave.

He lets out a deep breath when he slides a third finger into your hole. You were helpless and at his mercy. Your hands are trapped behind your back, between your torsos with a red Christmas ribbon he found. Your legs were trapped between his so when you tried to close them, he just had to spread his wider. There was absolutely nothing you could do to stop him from playing with your sensitive pussy.

“Ohhh, I’m not done yet, Baby. Not yet.” He pulled his fingers out and went back to the same speed on your clit.

“Oh my god, Sir… fuck, please, don’t stop,” you moan loudly, trashing in his grip when the tight coil in your abdomen comes undone. Wave after wave of pleasure crashing through you. You're full on sobbing in blissful agony before going tractable in his arms. All your body could do was tremble from head to toe when he pressed his nose into your slick neck and finally slips his fingers out of you. He loosens his hold on your torso, allowing your legs to close a bit to give you a well deserved moment. You go to close them more when he cups his hand possessively around your pussy. He’s still not done.

You start to cry again; the combination of the tears and your whining making you sound so pathetic and helpless. He just eats it up.

“Noooo… Bucky, please, no more… stop, I- I can’t… please, no…”

“Shhh. You're doing so well for me,” he says, pressing his lips against your temple. "What do you say to get me to stop?"

He laid a light tap to your swollen petals, "tell, y/n. Stay with me."

"Brooklyn," you said in the faintest whisper.

"Why?"

"It's where we met...FUCK!"

He doesn’t wait another moment before slipping two fingers back inside your sopping pussy, making you cry out when they graze your ultra sensitive walls.

“James-FUCKKK!,” You drag out as you sit your head up to watch his attack on you,

"You want me to stop? Say it and I'll stop." He knew you wouldn't and he reveled at the fact that he had complete control over you. The fact that he didn't reprimand you for using his legal name meant that he was having way too much fun in this torture session to even care.

“No! Please don't stop…” His fingers reached the spot that undoes it all and your eyes roll back as you place your head back on him, completely quiet.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Bucky watches, mesmerized that it's him who's making you cum like this.

You whimper in his arms, gulping in large breaths that pass right by his ear from where my head is resting on his shoulder. Your entire body is trembling. Your sweaty skin sliding along his own when you try to wiggle away from his touch.

You stay like that for a moment before he presses another kiss to your temple. By this time, your eyes are closed and you're starting to come down. Your breathing stables until you feel a heavy, icy sensation start to travel back to your overused cunt.

"You've been such a good girl for me. I know you can give me another, Baby.”

[annievrse]

It Only Hurts This Much Right Now / Act I

Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader  Summary: When your captain, Luffy, tells you to run from Bartholomew Kuma on the Sabaody Archipelago instead of fighting, you end up on a submarine. Takes place pre-time skip. W/C: 15k C/W: Fic structure: Sabaody Archipelago → Dressrosa spoilers, canon timeline but majority canon-divergent events, is organised into scenes, she/her pronouns, no use of y/n. Content: panic attacks, anxiety, descriptions of injuries, blood, passing out, trauma (Luffy), and Law has his death tattoos pre-time skip because I said so.

Labyrinth Series Masterlist

— Scene 1 —

“Run! Now!” 

Your legs move of their own accord, your mind screaming against your captain’s request. Bartholomew Kuma’s Paw-Paw Fruit had your crew disappearing off the Sabaody Archipelago one by one. 

With ragged breathing and a burning chest, the further you get from the grassy patch, the more your heart clenches in agony. Your family is gone, and you don’t know if they’re dead or hurt, and the thought of them being in that state has you clutching your chest. 

“Luffy!” You scream as he vanishes from sight, your voice broken, but there is nothing you can do. The Devil Fruit you’d eaten as a child feels useless against someone of this calibre, so you run, just as your captain told you to. 

The island is in an uproar of violence and fear; the only place you know to go is to the Sunny. The Straw Hats’ dear ship, who’s been waiting for its crew’s arrival, only to be left abandoned when you run directly into the back of someone. 

You stumble backwards, the sudden stop causing your legs to give out from underneath you. You land on the ground, a sharp pain in your tailbone sending shockwaves through your spine. Breathing rapidly, you scramble to stand, but not before a hand clasps around your throat. 

“Who are you?” 

The voice is deep and commanding, and you spit your name out quickly. Your vision is blurry, but you can make out the vague outline of a large man, his fiery hair sticking out in all directions. With exhausted muscles and the little strength you have left, you claw at the man’s hand, his grip tight around your neck. The man scoffs and lets you fall to the ground, the second impact on your spine hurting more than the last. 

“Kid, leave the poor girl alone.” 

You rub your temples with tender fingers where a deep pain in your skull threatens to explode. 

Kid? Where had you heard that name before? 

Your voice comes out as a whimper, your body on the cusp of failing you. A warm liquid drips from your hairline, and you pull your hand back, your fingertips crimson. Panic rises in your veins, and you’re reminded of the terrible fate your crew faces. A dull ache on your side stops you from standing, but you try to do so anyway with no success. 

“Hey, you’re with the Straw Hats, right?” 

Tears collect on your waterline at the sound of it, and your brain focuses on one key component – Straw Hat. 

“Come with me.” 

Spluttering nonsense, you try to think through the rapid rise and fall of your chest, your inhales raspy, and your exhales short. Your body doesn’t feel like your own, and as tears roll down your cheeks, you wish Kuma had given you the same fate. 

“Calm down,” The voice mumbles, hands finding purchase under your armpits to lift you off the ground. “Panicking will only make it worse.” 

“M-my crew, they’re gone.” 

“Gone?” 

You choke on a raggedy cough, your thoughts disordered. With a tightening chest, you nod. “Can’t breathe.” 

The man calls something you can’t hear, setting you back on the grass. The sudden threat of Kuma out there and possibly coming for you next has you crawling away from the man, who has his back to you, talking to someone in an orange jumpsuit. Blood drips from your head onto the grass below you, and your arms struggle to hold you. Coughing out sobs, you keep dragging yourself further from where you know Kuma is. 

“Hey.” 

“Leave me alone,” You rasp. “He’s coming.” 

“Who?” 

“Kuma,” Your heart tightens as your lips form his name. “He’s going to kill me next.” 

“Fuck.” 

And before you reach the trunk of a Yarukiman Mangrove, you’re lifted off the ground and thrown over someone’s shoulder. And despite your feeble attempts at hitting their back, you aren’t getting down. 

“Don’t take me to Kuma, please,” The plea burns your tongue as you sob, your limbs thrashing. A sharp pain shoots from your side, and you wail out. “Please, get me away from here.” 

“You’re safe, you’re free now.” Usually, you’d need proof if a strange person told you something with so much certainty; instead, you nod, and your eyes close of their own volition, exhaustion overpowering your common sense. 

— Scene 2 —

You wake with a start, gasping as you sit up. Fear claws at your consciousness and leaves goosebumps in its wake. You don’t dare speak a word. Squinting into the bright overhead lights, you realise you’re in a bed, a thin blanket pooled around your waist. An IV protrudes from your arm, and you shiver at the feeling of it inside you. 

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

Your head snaps to the other side of the room, where a tall, lean man stands over a desk. You tilt your head at his appearance, familiarity picking at your mind. It isn’t until he turns around that you gasp. It isn’t his fur hat or patterned jeans that make you recognise him, but the deep steel of his eyes. 

Trafalgar Law. 

You’d seen him inside the human auctioning house where Luffy punched a Celestial Dragon, thinking nothing of him. Sure, he was a rookie pirate with a higher bounty than your captain, 440 million berries, but he’d done nothing to prove his worth to you. 

You stare at him as he walks over, his steps lazy. Trafalgar Law’s blood runs cold, and he’s nothing short of sadistic; at least, that’s what Shakky told you. The man before you now seems to stalk you like you’re his prey, but his voice is surprisingly full of something close to friendliness when he speaks. 

“You had a panic attack, and you were severely dehydrated, hence the IV,” You blink at him, your brain processing why Trafalgar Law is standing at the end of the bed and not a doctor. “You have a deep gash on your scalp and one on the left side of your torso, too.” 

Your hand lifts to your head unconsciously, your fingertips meeting gauze. It’s obvious there’s some form of pain suppressant coursing through your veins since your body is light and your mind isn’t nearly as sharp as it should be. You curse yourself for being so weak. 

“Best try not to touch it.” 

Frowning, you lower your hand, feeling the same white fabric around your stomach. This time, you can see the dark splotches seeping through the gauze. Your lips smack softly at the dryness in your mouth, and Trafalgar gestures to the glass beside you.

“Wanna tell me your name?” 

You mumble your reply, watching him warily as you sip the drink–-water. The room is quiet, save for the muffled sound of metal clanging. 

“Where am I?” You mutter, holding the glass between your hands. 

“My ship, the Polar Tang.” 

Your stomach clenches with panic. “Why am I here?” 

“Your crew was attacked by Bartholomew Kuma. Do you remember?” 

Nodding, your eyes sting at the memory. 

“You found me and begged me to take you away.”

Your gaze hardens as you set your eyes on him. “I didn’t beg.”

“Believe me, you did.”

Setting the glass onto the bedside table, you rip the blanket off and stand from the bed, noting the discomfort of your side. 

“I know you,” You say. “You’re the guy who did nothing as my crew freed the slaves from that auction house.” 

Tilting his head, Trafalgar says nothing, though his expression is standoffish. You stand there, your body shivering involuntarily. Maybe you should’ve stayed in bed. 

“Drop me off at the next port.” 

Trafalgar clicks his tongue. “No, can do; we’re not leaving Sabaody for a few weeks.” 

Your eyes dart around the room, noticing the lack of windows.

“I know you don’t trust me,” Trafalgar says, irritation dripping from his tone. “But there was nowhere else for you to go.”

You shrink from his piercing gaze and wrap your arms around your body, being careful to avoid your injury. “How long have I been here?” 

“You’re full of questions today, aren’t you?” 

You don’t dignify him with an answer and wait for him to reply. 

“Two days.” 

Two days? “I have to leave. My crew needs me.” 

“You’re no good to anyone like this,” Trafalgar shakes his head and raises his palm before you. “Besides, you don’t even know where they are.” 

You feel like screaming and crying and throwing up all at the same time. It’s not fair. 

“I mean,” He smirks. “You could always ask Kuma where he sent them.” 

You narrow your gaze at him. “That’s not funny.” 

Trafalgar throws his hands up in false defence. “Never said it was, sweetheart. However, you can’t do anything but stay here and recover.” 

You think it over. What he says is true, but that doesn’t mean you must be useless. His nickname washes over you after you go through your options, and you roll your eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

“What? Sweetheart?” He laughs, turning away from you. “I think it’s perfect.”

You want to retort, to yell at him for patronising you at a time like this, but are interrupted when a large something rushes through the door. 

“Captain,” The polar bear says, wiping sweat from its forehead. “Kid needs to talk to you.” 

Your first thought is Chopper and how excited he’d be to meet another talking animal. Your second thought is far more depressing, and you swallow the emotion lodged in your throat. 

Trafalgar sighs and waves his hand at you. “Change her bandages.” 

The bear salutes and walks toward you as Trafalgar leaves. “Hello.” 

“Hi.” You tilt your head, knowing better than to ask questions. 

“Oh,” It looks down at itself and laughs nervously. “I’m Bepo.” 

“Bepo…”

“I’m a navigator.” 

A familiar feeling rises in your chest. “A navigator, huh?” 

“Yup, I navigate the sub,” He scratches behind his ear. “Who are you?” 

You smile and tell him your name, slotting that you’re on a submarine in the back of your mind. “I’m a seamstress for the Straw Hats.” 

Bepo’s eyes widen. “Captain said we had a guest, but I didn’t know you were a Straw Hat… Anyway, do you mind if I change your bandages?”

Your walls go up, and you glance at the white fabric around your torso. “Uh–”

“Captain had to sew you up,” Bepo says solemnly. “It was a deep cut.” 

You nod and reluctantly drop your hands by your sides. 

“Let me just— over here,” The bear stammers before rushing to the opposite wall. Usually, you can stitch yourself up. Before Chopper had joined the Straw Hats, you were the one to aid the crew. Zoro’s laceration across his abdomen, thanks to Dracule Mihawk, was your most significant job. 

So, when Bepo returns with a fresh roll of gauze and scissors, you quickly take it from his hands. “I can do this.” 

“You sure?” He asks carefully, his teeth showing as he cringes. 

You swiftly remove the old bandage, unroll the new one, and apply it just as briskly. When the gauze is tightly wrapped around you, you notice Bepo watching in astonishment.

“Are you hungry?” He splutters, eyes still trained on your torso. You guess he’s not the best with blood. 

Your stomach rumbles at the sound of food, and Bepo laughs softly. You cover your stomach as you feel your cheeks warm. 

“Penguin made rice balls, Captain’s favourite. You’re welcome to have some,” Bepo says, walking to the door. He seems to have forgotten about your injury. 

You nod, but before following, you stick your hand out. “Can I take this out?” 

The bear turns around at record speed, his eyes honing in on the needle sticking out of your wrist. “Uh, Captain might kill you.”

You pull your hand to your chest. “Why?” 

“Captain does all the medical stuff; he’s a doctor. He wouldn’t want to take it out, b—but if it’s uncomfortable, I can take it out for you.” 

“He’s a doctor?” 

Bepo nods. “And a surgeon.” 

His large paws hold your hand delicately. “Okay, this is fine.”

You give him a wary look, letting him take it out despite the fact you can do it yourself. “You’ve never done this before.”

“I-I have, just not on people,” He splutters. “Captain makes me practice with fruit.” 

Smirking, you watch the needle slide out from under your skin. 

“Done. Let’s go.” 

You shake your arm before inspecting the area. Bepo is already in the hallway when you decide to follow him.

“This is the infirmary, obviously,” He says, then points to the other end of the hall. “That’s the Captain’s quarters.”

You nod, though you doubt you’ll need to remember the layout since you’re leaving soon. 

You follow Bepo up the stairs as he talks about the submarine, how it works, how he navigates underwater, and how it doesn’t implode. It’s all very fascinating, and you can tell Bepo is passionate about his job on the Polar Tang, but you can’t help but think about your own navigator— 

“—and this is the kitchen.” 

— how she knows the weather patterns like it's a part of her, how she draws her maps with such detail that it shocks you every time you get your hands on one, how you gossip with her until your cook pesters you to try his new dish. 

And then you’re being introduced to the Polar Tang’s cook, and it feels like an iron grip on your esophagus.

“This is Penguin,” Bepo says, pointing at a guy wearing a hat. You give him a wave, though it's half-assed, and you regret it immediately. 

“Hi,” You smile, trying your best to push the memories out of your head and make up for the lazy greeting. 

“Rice ball?” He asks, handing you said food on a plate. 

You take it graciously, thanking him for the snack. 

“How’re you feeling?” A new voice calls. You turn to see another man with a hat, but his sunglasses make him different from Penguin. 

It takes you a second to swallow the rice. “Been better.” 

“Oh, that’s Shachi,” Bepo says before turning to the man. “Would be nice if you introduced yourself.” 

Shachi shrugs and returns to his own rice ball. 

“I’m here too,” A large man mumbles. 

“Jean-Bart,” Bepo gasps. “He’s new. Just joined.”

You nod, finishing your rice ball. 

“I see you’ve met some of the crew.” Trafalgar’s voice makes you freeze. You wipe your lips and turn to face him. There’s a katana propped on his shoulder, and you take a moment to study it. 

Zoro’s face and stupid laugh pop into your head, and then you’re chewing the inside of your cheek. 

“I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping,” Trafalgar says, leaving the kitchen. You tug your eyebrows together and follow him. 

“I’m leaving soon.”

He ignores you and continues down the stairs and past the infirmary. From Bepo’s description of this floor, the only two rooms are the clinic and the Captain’s quarters, and considering Trafalgar is the captain, you deduce that you’ll be close to him. 

The thought makes you cringe. 

He stops before the final door and opens it. 

“Ikkaku stays in the other room.” He says it like you know who that is and ushers you inside. “She’s away at the moment.”

Stepping inside, you realise there are more doors. Three are on the right, and two are on the left in the smaller hallway. He stands close behind you. 

“Your room is through the second door on the right. Make yourself comfortable. We’re going into Sabaody tonight.” 

And when you turn to ask Trafalgar Law if this is some kind of joke, he’s gone. 

You should put a bell on him. 

The women’s room is more extensive than you expected, considering there’s only one woman onboard. You peer around corners and keep your footfalls light as you explore, not wanting to snoop in Ikkaku’s stuff accidentally. 

There’s an empty room next to the bathroom. Stepping inside, you realise that the warm light of the bedside lamp and the half-full bookcase in the corner make it seem almost homey. The bed is lush when you sit and run your fingertips over the quilt. What is going on?

Despite being alert, the comfort of the room allows you to let your guard down, and the feeling alone makes you want to close your eyes. Only for a moment do you let yourself pretend everything is fine. Luffy runs laps around Sanji as he prepares the fish he’s caught. Nami and Robin are lounging on the deck, and Zoro’s asleep against the mast. Franky’s tinkering with something under the deck with Usopp, and Brook keeps them company with his violin. You’re sitting on the railing of the Thousand Sunny with your legs swinging back and forth as you chat with Chopper, fixing a patch to the underside of his hat where one of Usopp’s inventions blew it off his head. 

It was meant to be a sleepless dream, yet you fall victim to the clutches of darkness and dreamless sleep. 

— Scene 3 —

You feel sick. Your mouth is dry, and your head is full of cotton. The last thing you remember is laughing at Chopper’s attempt at imitating Sanji. 

The isolated room is a punch in the gut, a harsh reality that beats the dream in your head to a bloody pulp. You swallow thickly and sit up from the bed. You don’t know the time since a submarine has no windows, and the actuality of where you are is a cruel reminder of your situation. 

You rub your eyes with your sore knuckles hard, ignoring the countless stars that cloud your vision when you drop your hands to your lap. There’s no sound from outside the door, and when you really concentrate, there’s no muffled noise from the level above either. 

You groan at the dull throbbing of your side but forget about it when your eye catches on a white jumpsuit hanging from the door handle. You endure the disgust that coats your tongue. 

Before you know it, you’re up and snatching the suit from the handle. You swing the door open, not bothering to care that it slams against the wall, and make a beeline to the infirmary. You only know he’s in there because the overhead light is on. 

Trafalgar has his hat off and a lab coat on. He’s pulling a latex glove onto his hand when you enter. 

“What is this?” You spit, holding the jumpsuit up. Trafalgar’s head turns toward you, his face barren of any emotion. “I’m not one of your pirates.”

“When you’re on my sub, you wear it.” 

Scoffing, you throw it onto a cot. “I’m a Straw Hat.” 

“You’re on my ship.” 

“Against my will.” You know it’s unfair, but the words spill from you anyway. 

Trafalgar shakes his head, a small laugh falling from his lips. He returns to his work before him on the metal table. “I’m not arguing with you right now. How’s your wound?” 

You ignore his question. “Well, when can you fit me into your busy schedule to argue, Traffy?” 

His unamused glance sends shivers down your spine, but he doesn’t bite. 

“It’s a safety precaution.” He says, lifting a jar to his face to inspect it. 

You look down at your clothes and the gauze around you and sigh. Your head is still fuzzy from your nap, and fighting him will get you nowhere, you can tell that much. It’s safe to say that Trafalgar Law gets under your skin, and not just because he’s a surgeon. 

“Not happening,” You shake your head and step back. “I’m not a part of your crew.” 

“As you’ve said,” Trafalgar utters, his voice tinged with irritation. “Fine.” 

Your face softens at the finality of his tone. 

“But when you’re wandering around Sabaody, don’t come running to me when someone attempts to cash in the bounty on your head. You stand out.” 

You smile, your pride overpowering any other emotion for a second. “You’ve done your research.” 

“370 million berries,” He states, turning around. “But I have yet to see why.” 

Your expression sours, and you spin toward the door to leave. “Goodnight, Trafalgar.” 

He says nothing as you swipe a new gauze roll from the shelf next to the entrance and shut the door behind you. 

“Asshole,” You mumble, flexing your hands to stretch out the fists you didn’t realise you’d been sporting—perhaps it’s best that you didn’t lose control of your powers in front of him. The walk back to your room is short, choosing to go to the bathroom before heading back to bed. 

After poking around in the bathroom for an hour, you exit with a towel around you, again noticing the lack of noise on the ship. It is eerily silent as you redress in your old clothes, but once you’re done, you see a new set of clothes on the bed. 

When did they get there? 

You hold the new top, noticing the size is slightly off. Sighing, you move your fingers in a certain way to change the width and length of the garment. “Sew.” 

Seams pop, and new ones are made until the ill-fitting clothes resize to fit you perfectly. You hum in contentment and place them on the chair in the corner of the room. 

You wrap your wound with new gauze, thanks to the roll you stole earlier, but the pain suppressants are wearing off, and the pain is beginning to seep through. Your gaze catches on the new clothes, and despite the bloodstains and dirt patches on the clothes you wear now, you decide you feel more comfortable in them than the foreign ones in the corner. 

Laying on the bed, your eyes close almost instantly. The emotion you feel from earlier and the spat with Trafalgar has tired you. You thought it’d be difficult to fall asleep in such ghostly silence, but when the blanket covers you, you’re dreaming about your crew again. 

—

It’s only slight, but the knock that comes from outside of your door startles you. You’ve been awake for hours, picking through the books on the shelf and thinking about how you were leaving Sabaody when it happened. 

Your name is low on his lips when he speaks it, and your heart jumps at the sound of it. 

“Come in.” 

The door opens slowly, like Trafalgar’s nervous about what he’ll find. 

“How’re you feeling?” 

You glance at your stomach and shrug. “Achy.” 

Trafalgar nods, standing awkwardly in the doorway, one of his hands digging in the pocket of his jeans. “I brought you some pills for the pain.” 

The bottle is small, but it's full of medication. You thank him, screwing the cap and emptying two into your palm. The air is thick with tension, but not the good kind. What he said earlier in the evening still rings in your mind. 

“I’ll show you why my bounty is so high when I’m ready, okay?” 

Trafalgar eyes you warily. “Okay…” 

“Thanks for bringing these,” You gesture to the tablets in your palm, trying to diffuse the tension. “Maybe I’ll be able to sleep properly.”

“You’re having trouble?” Trafalgar scratches his chin halfway out the door. 

“Not bad,” You lie, waving your hand in dismissal. “Just nightmares and stuff. About Kuma and my crew and drowning in a submarine.” 

You don’t know why you’re talking to him like this, exposing your fears, like he’s a Straw Hat, but something about his mellow demeanour is comforting. His shy eyes and shadow of a smile starkly contrast to the man you spoke to earlier in the night. 

“Well, I know that this submarine isn’t going to sink, spring a leak, or implode, so you can scratch that off your list of fears.” 

His good-natured humour surprises you despite his cold look. “Take two every four hours, and the pain should be almost absent.” 

You nod, realising he’s talking about the medication. Taking the glass from the bedside table, you wash the pills down. 

“Goodnight, Trafalgar.” 

“Night,” He murmurs, whispering your name afterwards. 

You open your mouth to say something else, anything else, when he beats you to it.

“By the way,” Trafalgar says, his voice oddly soft. “The situation with your crew will only hurt this much now. As the days pass, it’ll get better.”

He shuts the door behind him, and you stare at it like he still lingers there. 

You can’t help but believe him. 

— Scene 4 —

Bepo looks at you oddly from across the table. 

It’s the next morning, and he’d informed you the day before in his tour that breakfast was at eight am sharp. It wasn’t until you heard the first sound above you that you’d studied the clothes given to you with such caution that you thought yourself ridiculous before sighing and putting them on. You’d shoved your feet into your shoes and trudged upstairs to the dining room, where Penguin shovelled various foods onto your plate without asking your preference and sent you to the table where you sit now. 

“What?” You ask Bepo, moving pieces of your breakfast around your plate. 

Bepo jumps at your voice, suddenly finding the fish before him extremely interesting. “Nothing.” 

Twisting your lips, you feel bad for catching him off guard. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologise,” The navigator shakes his head. “It’s just that you’re not wearing a boiler suit.”

“Oh,” You mumble, looking down at yourself. Maybe you should’ve worn your own clothes. 

“It’s not a bad thing,” Bepo interjects quickly, noticing the look on your face. 

“Yeah, never a bad thing,” Shachi comments from the other end of the table. 

Bepo gasps. “Ignore him.” 

You give him a small smile. 

“It's just that the only person who doesn’t wear one is Captain Law. It’s just odd seeing someone else aboard not wearing one, is all.”

“Alright,” A familiar voice says from the doorway. “We’re going onto Sabaody. Get your shit together and meet out the front.” 

You watch the Heart Pirates scramble to finish their meals, stacking their plates beside the sink as they exit the room. Soon enough, you’re sitting at the table on your own. 

“You’re welcome to join us,�� Trafalgar says. “Just stay close.” 

“I’m good here,” You don’t turn to look at him. “Not looking to cause any problems.” 

He sighs. “Do you need anything?” 

You think it over, deciding to take his question literally. What you need is to get off this island and find your crew, to get to the Sunny and go to Fishman Island, like the original plan. Instead, you’re on a submarine, docked on the island where your crew went missing without knowing how to get them back. Your words are bitter as they leave you, but you don’t regret them. 

“What I need is impossible for you to get.” 

“Are you always this melodramatic?” 

His quip surprises you. Your chair scrapes against the metal floor as you stand. You narrow your eyes at him as you walk to the sink and put your plate on the top of the stack. “Are you always this big of a dick?” 

“Only when someone is being difficult. It’s not hard to accept help, you know. Or is that against the rules of the Straw Hats?” 

You blink at him in shock, your voice low as you approach him. You can feel the power of your Devil Fruit tingling under your skin. “You know nothing about me or my crew.” 

“Yet, I can read you like a book,” Trafalgar laughs, looking down at you. “I see you fit in the clothes fine.”

“Are you done?” You scowl, your fingers moving into their usual position when your powers are in use. It’s difficult to control yourself around him. At least you got your answer as to where the clothes came from. You don’t have it in you to thank him right now. 

Adjusting the katana on his shoulder, Trafalgar sighs, lifting a finger to move the needle that materialised before his nose. “Let’s get out of here, hm?” 

You gasp at the sight of one of your needles, regret swimming in your eyes. The needle vanishes like it was never there as you grab hold of your ability. “I’m so sorry.” 

He turns around, ignoring your apology. “I see.” 

“See what?” You ask, breathless at your lack of control. Your feet carry you after him, seemingly having a mind of their own. 

“You ate a Devil Fruit.” 

You don’t care that he’s leading you outside. “What if I did?” 

When the breeze hits his face, Trafalgar stops, and you almost run into his back. “I want to see what it does.” 

You swallow thickly. “No.” 

Being outside, on Sabaody, makes your chest hurt. You try to push down the emotions clouding your vision and circle Trafalgar to stand before him. 

“No?” 

You nod once. “I’m not a circus animal.” 

“You say you’re not a lot of things, sweetheart,” He says. “When can I hear about something you are?” 

His words are honeyed, and you refrain from shivering. “I am pissed off at you.” 

His eyebrow quirks up at you. “Now we’re getting somewhere.” 

Ignoring him, you turn. “I’m going to get some supplies, don’t follow me.” 

“I thought you were good here… but, unfortunately, sweetheart, I wasn’t planning on it,” Trafalgar mutters. “Just stay low, okay? There are pirates and marines everywhere. No matter where you are, they’ll be there too.”

You acknowledge his warning and turn to leave, but the call of your name from his lips has you glancing over your shoulder. 

“Try not to open your wound, okay? Don’t need you dying on me.” 

— Scene 5 —

When Trafalgar told you there were marines everywhere, you thought he exaggerated. Surely they wouldn’t be around every corner, store, on every rooftop…

Now, you know better than to doubt his judgment. The screaming of civilians and the sound and vibration of explosions have your heart leaping every few minutes in fear. 

“Shit,” You curse as you jump into another alleyway. A group of Marines run past, and your heart beats in sync with their footsteps. 

A trip to the town is more complicated than you thought. Shoving your hand in your pocket, you fish out fifty berries and whine silently when you realise how little you have to spend. 

You don’t want to, but Nami’s tips on stealing and bargaining cross your mind. Thieving on Sabaody Archipelago seems like a foolish thing to do—there’s no way you’d get away with it with all the Marines on duty. Rolling your eyes, you step from the street and onto the main strip. 

When nobody jumps you, you make your way to the closest store. It's dark inside the building, but you use that to your advantage and slide various small items into your pockets. The aisles are empty; the only person in sight is the cashier, an elderly man with horns. 

Trafalgar’s words swim in your mind as you wander down the aisles. 

Don’t need you dying on me… I can read you like a book… 

His mood swings give you a headache; you’ve only known him a day. You couldn’t imagine having him as your captain. Despite Luffy’s carefree attitude, he’d never get smart like that, and he would never call you melodramatic. Hell, he wouldn't even know what melodramatic means. 

The thought of your own captain has your stomach sinking, but then your skin is burning at the sheer audacity of Trafalgar Law. Bepo seems to have a high tolerance for his captain, and you guess that skill only develops with time. You scowl at the thought of spending more time with Trafalgar than you have to. You sure hope your crew makes it back here soon. 

But, your mind is so focused on the captain of the Heart Pirates that it isn’t until you’re at the counter, paying for three rolls of gauze and a box of rice cakes, that the newspaper beside the counter catches your attention. 

PORTGAS D. ACE TO BE PUBLICLY EXECUTED

You stare at the headline. It takes a moment for the words to sink in. Ace. Executed. 

“Miss?” 

Blinking once, you drop the berries onto the counter, snatch the newspaper from the stand, and run out of the store with it pressed to your chest. 

No, no, no. 

At a time when your captain needs you most, you’re not there. No tears well at your waterline; only panic has you in its steel clutches. 

You sprint back to the Polar Tang, your legs burning and your mind racing. You don’t dare look at the paper again until you're safe in the room you’re staying in. Throwing it on the bed, you finally look over the details. 

The World Government has captured Fire Fist Ace…. The renowned pirate Blackbeard has been invited to become a Warlord…the execution has been set to be at Marineford in one week… 

Shaking your head in disbelief, you refuse to believe the printed words. You scrunch the paper in your hand and fly from the room into the infirmary. 

Trafalgar is nowhere to be found. 

“Please,” You plea as you run up the stairs and into the kitchen. “Hello?” 

The Polar Tang is empty. 

Your voice echoes off the cold metal, and you sink to your knees. A sharp pain rolls through you, and you look down at your stomach to see the bandages soaked in blood. The sight makes your head feel light. Your heart rate rapidly inclines, and the kitchen spins before your eyes, the adrenaline coursing through your veins tapering off. With shaky hands, you unfurl the newspaper. 

Where’s Trafalgar now? Where are the words he spoke to you last night? It only hurts this much right now? It’s not getting better, only worse. Why would he lie?

Despite your racing thoughts, the only name on your mind and tongue is Luffy before you pass out, and your head hits the metal floor of the common area with a dull thud. 

— Scene 6 —

“I’m starting to get Deja vu, sweetheart.”

You groan when you hear his voice. 

“I thought I told you not to die yet,” Trafalgar mumbles, urgency in his tone. “Never mind, the war’s started.” 

War?

“What war?” You slur, squeezing your eyes shut against the overhead lights. You feel exposed, and when you peer down at your body, you see a blue gown covering you. 

“Your body has undergone immense trauma, both physically and mentally,” He ignores your question. “It's been a few days since Bepo found you bleeding out in the kitchen.” 

You blink, covering your eyes with your hands. “What’s going on?” 

“You were comatose, close to death. You’re stable now, but I thought I told you not to reopen your wound and—” 

“Not with me,” You sit up, your eyes still hurting. “With the war.” 

Sighing harshly, Trafalgar sits on a chair beside the bed, resting his forearms on his knees. You turn to look at him, noticing his sleeves have been pushed up to his elbows. On his arms lay stark tattoos, the ink trailing down to his hands and then his knuckles. 

EATH

You open your mouth to ask about its meaning but aren’t quick enough.

“Whitebeard’s at Marineford. We’re on our way there now.” 

You furrow your eyebrows, finally comprehending the grinding and clanging of metal around you. “Why?” 

“Portgas D. Ace’s execution is today.”

The name makes you lurch, and you scold yourself for thinking about asking Trafalgar about his tattoos. How foolish. 

“What’s wrong? Is it your wound?”

“He’s Luffy’s brother,” You whisper, dread flooding you. “Why are we going?” 

Trafalgar gives up on your health when he realises you won’t tell him anything about it, but the information that Luffy is Ace’s brother catches his attention. “It would be a shame for a rival to die this early.”

“Rival? Ace is a rival?” 

Trafalgar lets out a humourless laugh. “Monkey D. Luffy is a rival.” 

You’re speechless. Wholly and utterly silent at his declaration. Your mouth opens and closes as you try to form the words your brain wants you to say but to no avail. 

He shrugs when he sees you attempt to say something. “We’re pirates, or did you forget that?” 

The idea that you could be here for shifty reasons hits you all at once. Sure, you’d thought about it when you woke up the first time, grateful that a pirate was willing to save you, to put their life on the line to help another pirate. But you were a fool for thinking it was out of the goodness of his heart. 

That’s why it all spills out when you open your mouth this time. “Why keep me alive, then? I’m a pirate from an opposing crew with a bounty of over three hundred million berries. Why not kill me and cash it in?” 

“You could be useful.” 

“Useful.” The word is bitter on your tongue. Useful, not as an addition to a pirate crew, but as a weapon to wield against the people you love. Who was that man from your first night here? Does he exist under the facade of Trafalgar Law? Or was it all a lie?

“You know…” He ponders, running his tongue over his teeth. “Leverage.” 

“Huh,” You smile fakely, disdain morphing your expression. “So, that’s all I’m good for?” 

“Right now? Yes.” 

Your hand flicks up before you know what you’re doing. The act of sewing his lips shut fills you with such jubilation that you can’t help but smile a genuine smile. The black thread of your power has Trafalgar rising instantly, the chair he was on flying out behind him. 

“You may be Trafalgar Law,” You say lowly. “But I’m not a pawn.”

Trafalgar claws at his lips before sticking one hand out. A blue dome covers the room, and you feel an odd sensation in your chest. It feels as though your heart is being ripped out of your chest. You scream in agony, most likely ripping the stitches in your side as you clutch at your breast. The IV needle in your hand tears through your skin, and your blood spills onto the gown you wear, soaking through it. 

Trafalgar gestures wildly at you, screaming through his closed lips as the threads tighten. You’re unknowingly making them taut, suffocating him. He staggers, the trolley that houses the surgical equipment rolling away as he falls to the ground. Scalpels and scissors clatter to the ground, the infirmary turning into a place of chaos.

His face is red, close to purple when you see it, a blue cube with a fist-sized organ inside it. Your heart. 

“What the…” Your brain seems to forget the pain when you see your lifeline in the hand of Trafalgar Law. 

You’re in such a state of shock that you loosen and remove the thread from his lips, your body falling limply onto the pillows behind you.

“What the fuck?” His voice is hoarse. “Are you insane?” 

“Are you?” You ask pathetically, still trying to process what you just witnessed. 

He doesn’t answer, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his lungs trying to take in as much oxygen as possible. He leans his back against the cupboards, his legs bent in front of him. The blue cube hangs from his fingertips behind his knees. 

You yelp in surprise and paw at the empty slot in your chest. 

“Give me my heart back,” You don’t know what you’re saying. How could he have your heart? 

Trafalgar pushes himself back to his full height, his breathing still ragged but quiet. “What Devil Fruit did you eat? They’re not strings, that’s impossible.” 

“What?” You ask absentmindedly, still occupied with the phenomenon of your open chest. 

“What are your powers?” He presses, staring at you. 

“The Sew-Sew Fruit.”

“Sew-Sew Fruit…” 

“I have thread and needles and shit, okay,” Your breathing starts to go rigid. “Where’s my heart?” 

“You suffocated me, that’s—”

“Trafalgar!” Tears roll down your cheeks. “Where is my heart?”

His body goes still, and the terror in your eyes is enough for him to lift it and slot it back into your body. The sound of blood rushing through you is loud, and you can feel the blood in your veins. The first beat of your heart back in your chest is painful but quickly dissipates as your body recognises it as its own. It’s an experience you never want to endure again. 

You scramble away from him, climbing onto the floor and pressing your back against the furthest cabinet. 

“Careful of your wound,” Trafalgar mutters, his gaze glazed with concern. His face has returned to its standard shade, and he rubs his chest. 

“I don’t care.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

The apology should shock you, but you shake your head in disbelief. “What was that?” 

He swallows thickly. “I ate the Op-Op Fruit. I can control all matter within the range of my room.” 

“This room?” Your hand lands on your side, the pain returning. 

“This room,” He says, lifting his hand. “Room.” 

And as before, a blue dome covers you, and you stare at the ceiling in wonder, though you’re confused about how you could be so fascinated at something that almost killed you. 

“Op-Op…” 

“So, what does yours do?”

“I have sew,” You gesture with one hand. “Which you saw, that controls threads, and needles, which controls, well, needles. Sew can be used to stitch up wounds, trap people, and, you know, tie them up, strangulation. Whereas with needles, I can produce giant ones for stabbing and stuff.”

Law hums. “That’s a simple way of putting it…”

A smile you can only believe came from the deepest depths of your soul spreads across your cheeks. “No wonder your bounty’s so high.” 

“And I now see why yours is so high.” 

You feel your body relax when Trafalgar retracts his room. “I’m sorry.” 

He shakes his head. “I deserved that. I was being a dick.”

“You were being a dick,” Your lips quirk. “But I was way out of line. I know we’re pirates, but—”

“What happened? I heard screaming,” Bepo barges into the infirmary, the door slamming against the wall. 

You shake your head in dismissal. “Nothing, I just fell.” 

Trafalgar’s eyebrows twitch when he looks at you. You could’ve easily told Bepo his captain almost killed you, but you couldn’t tell him you almost killed his captain, too. 

“Oh,” The bear sighs. “Are you okay?”

You nod, pushing yourself off the ground to stand. “Thanks for checking in.” 

Bepo smiles before speaking to Trafalgar. “Captain.” 

“What is it?” He asks, turning so his back is to you both. 

“We’ll be docking soon. The waters are rough around Marineford.” 

“Understandable,” Trafalgar mutters. “Get the crew ready to retrieve Straw Hat.” 

Bepo nods and quickly leaves. 

“We’re retrieving him?” 

Trafalgar sighs. “I told you, a rival can’t die this early. We’re rookies, we have to protect each other until the new age surpasses the old.” 

His words have a strange intonation of leadership as if he feels responsible for Luffy. And maybe it's the underlying knowledge that he feels like your captain could be useful to him, but for now, you’re grateful he’s willing to help him. 

“That’s sweet.”

Trafalgar narrows his eyes at you. “Get ready to resurface. We won’t have much time.” 

You look down at your bloody gown and hurry to your bedroom, your stomach churning with both excitement and dread. Excitement for seeing Luffy, dread for everything else.

— Scene 7 —

“Hurry up!” Trafalgar yells to his crew. “We get Straw Hat out of there and leave.” 

“Yes, Captain.” The response is a collective voice, and you stand in the corner, nursing your wound. You would’ve rather done it in the privacy of the infirmary or your bedroom, but with Luffy so close, you don’t care if the men see you. 

“Only Bepo, Penguin, Shachi, Jean-Bart, and I will be on deck, the rest of you are on standby, given things go to shit.” 

Another collective, yes, Captain, rolls through the common area. You’re on the verge of yelling that you’re going with them when Trafalgar finds your gaze and nods once, confirming that you’ll be there too. 

Swallowing, you inhale sharply. Your wound is secure, and you can feel your power surge through you, just in case. 

The submarine lurches, and then the crew rushes to their stations—some to the boiler room (you learnt was below your bedroom), others to the control room, and more to prepare the infirmary. It’s a practised procedure, and the tension around you reminds you of your own crew. 

Trafalgar clears his throat, and you turn to see him before you. “Be careful up there, okay? We don’t need you more injured.” 

You laugh. “Care about me, huh?” 

He clears his throat. “Just need my leverage to be in good shape if i’m to negotiate with Straw Hat.” 

You want to roll your eyes but don’t. You swear it hurt him to say that from the set of his jaw. 

Before you can ponder it, you notice Bepo taking the stairs up to the main door. 

There’s no time to be thinking about him. Luffy is your top priority.  

“Are we there?” 

Trafalgar glances over his shoulder to follow your gaze. “Yeah. Come on.”

You can hear the chaos before you see it. It's a cacophony of cannonballs, gruff wails of anguish, and the distorted sound of bones shattering. 

Bepo pushes the door open, and the wind hits you in the face. The air is thick with rot, burning flesh, and salt, and you cover your nose before you gag. 

“Welcome to the battlefield,” Bepo says. He means it as a joke, but it's utterly morbid.

Far away, chatter erupts when you step onto the deck. Marineford is seemingly silent at the arrival of the submarine. Blood sprays in the distance, accompanied by strangled cries and all you want to do is crouch down and cover your ears like a child. You can’t imagine Luffy here. 

“Hey!” Trafalgar yells, and your attention is turned to the floating bodies in the sky. You recognise who it is immediately and run to the front of the deck. 

“Luffy!” You scream, your eyes catching on his unconscious body. You feel yourself gag at the mangled state of his chest, but when you look at who is holding him, you’re stumbling over your own feet. “Buggy?” 

“Hey!” The clown yells, his eyes wide. “Hey, I remember you! You’re that girl who sewed my arms to my legs back in Loguetown! Why are you here?” 

Trafalgar snorts beside you, brushing off the rest of Buggy’s questions.“Quick, hand over Straw Hat.”

“I don’t take orders from you! Besides, what do you want with him?” Buggy asks. “Who even are you? What are you doing with the girl from Straw Hat’s crew?” 

Trafalgar ignores him, lips pursed. “Just hand him over, he’ll die without my help. I’m a doctor.” 

You notice the Fishman Buggy holds under his other arm. “Who is that…?” 

“Doctor, my ass! No doctor carries around a sword that big,” Buggy cries. 

“I don’t have time for your shit, clown. Hand over Straw Hat.” 

“But, what’s in it for me? You’re just a —”

The familiar high-pitched sound of a cannonball makes your heart leap. “Trafalgar…” 

“Uh, Captain,” Shachi calls, his voice wobbly. “Navy battleships are approaching the stern.” 

“Fuck,” Trafalgar curses. “Hurry up! Give him to me!” 

Four more cannon fires can be heard before the sub rocks violently from the impact. 

“Captain, we’re almost in their firing range!” 

The wind from a cannonball landing so close to the sub has you panicking. “Quick, Buggy!” 

“Don’t you start bossing me around, little lady,” The clown screams, his voice cut short when you feel the submarine lean dangerously to the left.  

“What’s going on?” Bepo yells, holding onto the railing. 

“Oh, fuck,” Trafalgar says, looking to where Buggy floats. You follow his gaze, your body freezing at the sight of Kizaru. “Drop him now!” 

“Fine!” Buggy exclaims, throwing Luffy and the Fishman down to the deck. The clown yells more nonsense, but you don’t care to listen. Your heart is in your throat as you watch them fall. 

“Jean-Bart, quick, they’re coming.” 

The large man raises his arms and catches them as Trafalgar yells, “Submerge.” 

You run inside, going down to the infirmary. The submarine lurches, and you grab ahold of the handrail to stop yourself from stumbling down the stairs. You enter the infirmary, dodging crew members as they prepare for the worst. 

Trafalgar and Bepo are nowhere to be seen, but you can hear shouting down the hall. 

“Prepare for surgery!” 

You slip into the corner of the room as the Heart Pirates file inside. The only evidence you get of Luffy is the glimpses of his bloody body. You cover your mouth with your hand at the state of him. 

“Set up for a transfusion! He’s lost a lot of blood.” 

The main door to the submarine slams shut, and the metal walls vibrate from the jolt. You wait with bated breath as the crew rushes around the room, sticking needles in Luffy’s arms and opening sterile equipment. 

It’s captivating how fast Traflagar’s crew prepares Luffy and the Fishman for surgery. If it weren’t Luffy, you’d find it exhilarating. 

Footfalls down the hall grab your attention, and soon, Bepo and the Heart Pirates Captain are entering the infirmary. Trafalgar holds something in his grasp, but you’re too engrossed in Luffy to realise what he shoves in your hands. 

“Keep this safe for him, okay, sweetheart?” 

You draw your attention away and look up at Trafalgar before noticing the familiar straw of Luffy’s hat between your fingers. Nodding, you curl your lips between your teeth to stop your emotions from teetering over. 

He walks away, taking white latex gloves from Penguin and putting them on. Trafalgar looks over the Fishman. 

“He’s been shot through the stomach… amazing he’s still breathing.”  

Finally, the last tube is inserted down Luffy’s throat, and you hold your breath while you wait for Trafalgar’s assessment. 

“Straw Hat’s injuries are fairly severe, too,” He says. “But I think his emotional trauma is the real issue.” 

Your heart skips a beat. Ace. 

“Do they need anaesthesia?” Penguin asks from the corner. Your jaw clenches at the mere thought that they wouldn’t. 

“No, Straw Hat is close to comatose, and the Fishman is unconscious. They won’t feel a thing.” 

Your mouth falls open. “But, Trafalgar—”

“It’s gonna be a fun operation, yeah?” 

His words make you feel sick. “Hey—”

“Get her outta here,” Trafalgar says, waving his hand in dismissal. 

“Yes, Captain,” Bepo mumbles, walking over to you. 

“Bepo—”

“Captain’s orders,” He says tightly. “I’m sorry.” 

You shake your head, your hands clutching Luffy’s hat to your chest. “I can’t leave him—”

“You have to; he’ll be just fine.” 

“But—”

The door to the infirmary closes behind you and Bepo, and you're at a loss for words. There’s no use screaming about it, Trafalgar needs to concentrate. 

“Stay here until I come and get you, okay?” 

Bepo smiles sadly at you before he leaves you in your room. Now that you’re alone and the adrenaline of helping Luffy has worn off your wound throbs. Groaning in pain, you limp to the bedside table and swallow four pills. 

The sub is silent, except for the relentless beeping down the hall. 

Suddenly, the sub rocks uncontrollably. Screaming ensues from the infirmary, and panic clutches at your chest. You stagger and fall to the bed, instantly rolling off when the sub jumps. 

“Bepo!”

Crying echoes down the hall as he races to your room. Your door swings open, and Bepo falls inside, rolling on the floor beside you. “Aokiji’s turning the ocean to ice!” 

The submarine surges forward, going faster and deeper. The rocking calms down, and Bepo knocks his forehead on the floor. “No more stress, please.” 

You sigh out a nervous laugh at where you lay on the floor. The sub jolts again; this time, it isn’t until the ship starts swerving that Bepo cries out. “We got lucky once. Now we’re really gonna die!” 

“We’re not going to die,” You say, trying to keep your voice even. “Just hold on.” 

Bepo whimpers, and before he can do as you say, he rolls into the other wall. Your name falls from his mouth in a whine, his eyes closing with dizziness. You cringe with pain, your body slamming into the leg of the bedframe. 

Finally, the sub evens out, but you can tell you’re going extremely fast. The door squeaks on its hinges when it opens. 

“You guys okay?” 

You lift your head to see Penguin panting with his hand on the doorframe. 

“Never better,” Bepo murmurs, his paws scratching the metal floor. 

You nod and attempt to stand, your hand over your wound. “How’s Luffy?” 

Penguin stands taller. “Surgery’s going fine. Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, just a bit dizzy,” You say, knowing your skin will be marred with bruises. You don’t tell him of the sharp pain in your temple. “Are we safe?” 

He visibly swallows. “Should be. Jean-Bart says nothing is attacking us now.” 

“Thank you, Gods,” Bepo whines in happiness, pushing himself back to his full height. “I’m going back to the infirmary. I need an ice pack.” 

You and Penguin watch Bepo leave, his legs wobbly. 

“Do you need anything?” Penguin asks, his eyes trained on where your hand presses against your side. 

“Should be fine, thanks.” 

He gives you a tight-lipped smile before exiting. You sit on the bed, lifting your shirt to inspect your wound. 

It’s bloody, and it's clear your stitches have come undone again. When will you catch a break?

Taking a deep breath, you unravel the bandage. Once the soiled gauze is off, you look away, feeling queasy. You move your fingers against your skin, not needing to look when your power starts. “Sew.” 

There’s no sensation when your needle pierces your skin and begins sewing you up. It's a painless procedure, one you’ve done one too many times, but a minuscule part of you wishes it were Traflagar’s nimble fingers threading a needle and cotton through you. It isn’t a welcomed thought, though you don’t curse yourself for thinking such things. You blame the minor blood loss and continue staring at the floor as you sew yourself back together. 

— Scene 8 —

You don’t know how you keep finding yourself in these positions, causing yourself unnecessary pain for the sake of others. Though, you can’t help it this time. 

Luffy is recovering in the infirmary after his surgery. It’s been four days since Trafalgar finished his procedures on your captain and the Fishman, who you have now learnt is Jinbe, a former Warlord. 

You’re outside the door, in the hallway, your backside hurting from sitting in the same position on the metal floor for a few hours. Your neck aches, and your back needs a stretch, but you feel guilty about getting up. You refuse to leave with your captain unconscious and without a specific timeframe of when he will wake. He went through hell in an attempt to save his brother, who you’d met once in Alabasta, and it wasn’t fair that he had to endure that while you were sealed inside a submarine with another crew. 

Trafalgar said it was unfair that you felt like this, and it took time for you to believe him. The past four days have been full of anxiety and tears, but you finally pulled yourself together to see Luffy without having a breakdown. You can feel sweat dripping down the side of your face, but leave it to do so, and you draw your knees to your chest and lean your forehead on your knees. 

“It’s too hot down here,” Bepo complains from down the hall. He’s on the floor, his tongue lolling out of his mouth as Penguin and Shachi watch him with apprehension. “I’m going to fade away. Goodbye, cruel world.”

“Shut up, Bepo,” Penguin snaps, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Now I’m hot, and I wasn’t hot until you said something.” 

“All that fur really sucks, huh?” Shachi laughs, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Bepo pointedly ignores him, slumping his body flat on the floor. 

“I hate going so far underwater. It gets so stuffy,” He cries before narrowing his eyes at his crewmates. “And the company is oppressive, too.” 

You can’t help the giggle that falls from your lips. 

“Not you,” Bepo comments, looking down the hall at you. “You’re not mean to me.”

“Yeah, well, we hate being here with you too, jerk,” Penguin says. 

“Such vitriol. What is a poor bear to do…?” Bepo whines, lugging himself to his feet. “To win the love of his crew members?” 

The collective disgusted sounds of Penguin and Shachi echo down the hall, and you lift your head to see why. Bepo hugs them both into him, rubbing his sweat on their faces. You smile at the sight, a pang of homesickness making your stomach turn. You remember Zoro doing the same thing to you and Sanji when you complained about his lack of bathing. 

“Fine! We’ll ask the captain if we can surface,” Penguin yells, trying to pry himself away from Bepo. 

“Captain!” They yell, stumbling over each other to get up the stairs. You sigh and return to staring at the wall opposite you. 

Heavy footfalls shake the sub above, but you ignore it, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. Your stomach drops as you feel the sub incline rapidly, and you barely smile when you hear the cheers from the common area. 

You stand when the sub is stationary, and there’s no movement above you. You place your hand on the door handle, the cool metal soothing the warmth of your body. You twist the handle and step inside the infirmary. The sight of the Fishman sitting up on his bed surprises you, but your focus is solely on your captain, who lays there motionless, with a large tube coming from his throat. 

“Who are you?” The man asks, and you jump at the gravel of his voice. 

You tell him your name. “I’m a Straw Hat.” 

Jinbe looks taken aback as you run your eyes over Luffy’s body. He’s covered in bandages from head to toe, and you can’t imagine what his injuries look like. You notice Trafalgar’s katana leaning against the bed.

“How are you here? Luffy said his crew was gone.” 

You stand over your captain, your face warm with emotion. You move the katana down to the end of the bed. 

“He told me to run, so I did,” You whisper, brushing his hair off his forehead. “I think he thought Kuma got me too.” 

Jinbe blinks at you before he gets up. “There sounds like trouble above deck. I’ll go.” 

You nod without lifting your head, though you can sense him studying you. 

“He spoke a lot about his crew. I’m glad you’re here.” 

Smiling wetly, you sniffle. “I’m glad too.” 

When the door clicks, you fall to your knees beside the bed. Trafalgar said not to disturb Luffy and told you not to touch his recovering body, but you can’t follow his orders, no matter how hard you try. 

“I’m so sorry,” You sob as you rub his wrist, the gauze rough against your fingertips. “I should’ve stayed back and helped you. Why would you tell me to run?” 

You know you won’t get a response, but having him this close after believing him dead is something your poor heart can’t fathom. 

You don’t know how long you sit there, your head leaning on the side of the bed, but when you come back to your senses, it's obvious the sub is moving. To where? You can’t begin to guess. 

But, you hope Bepo got his fresh air. 

—

Chaos has ensued above deck, you can tell that much. The sound of cheers and then screams of fear, with the dull thuds of arrows lodging into the walls, make you nervous. 

“I’ll be back,” You say, flying from the room. The submarine is empty when you get to the top floor, and you aim straight for the exit. 

The main entrance is ajar, and you push it open. “Trafalgar, what’s—”

“A woman!” 

You freeze after you stumble onto the deck. In awe, you’re suddenly the focus of several people, no, women, lining the walls of a bay. They all wave at you, clearly excited to see you. 

Smiling awkwardly, you wave back, glancing at Trafalgar. 

“Where are we?” You mutter, noticing the large ship in front of you veering off to the left. 

“Amazon Lily.” 

“Okay…” You drop your arm. “Why?” 

“They’re going to take care of Straw Hat.” 

Drawing your brows together, you shake your head. “What happened to being the best doctor on the Grand Line?” 

“I never called myself that,” He scoffs. “Boa Hancock has a fixation on your captain, so she’s going to house him here.” 

Boa Hancock. “The Warlord?” 

“Mmhm,” He hums. “I’m in the dark about how they know each other, but she’s eager to help him.” 

“He’s not something to be passed around.” 

“I know that, but Hancock is adamant about it,” Trafalgar says, voice hard. “Though I said otherwise, I do want him to be okay. Is that alright, sweetheart?”

“Yes, it’s perfectly fine, Trafalgar.” 

He gives you an inquisitive look, one that you brush off. “What’s your problem?” 

“Hancock.” 

Trafalgar snorts and cocks his head. “Yeah, well, don’t make that known here, okay?” 

“Why are we circling the island?” 

“Men are forbidden on the island.” 

“What?” 

“Luffy is the exception.”

You put your hand on his arm, holding back a giggle. “So, you’re going to get shot down? I can’t wait to see this.” 

Trafalgar clicks his tongue, unamused. “Unfortunately, you won’t. We made a deal with Hancock.”

“Disappointing…” You trail off, your fingers slipping from his forearm. But when you look back at him, his eyes are trained on the spot your touch was.

“Docking!” Penguin yells. 

It happens quickly and with skilled practice. A wood plank is placed between the Polar Tang and the patch of land, and the crew piles onto the island. 

Multiple women are on the shore, most setting up tables, tents, and a giant curtain printed with Jolly Rogers. The sun shines down on the grass, and you realise it's the first time since Sabaody that you’ve seen such greenery. 

“The Kuja Pirates,” Trafalgar says in your ear, pulling you from your mind. “Heard of them?” 

You shake your head, not daring to turn to face him. “But this is where Luffy’s staying?”

“Yep, I’m to treat him until he’s better, and then he stays here. It’s a perfect location to hide him from the Navy. You’d know how annoying they are, considering you’re just as if not more.” 

You gape at him, a slight grin pulling the corner of your lip upwards. “You’re kidding—”

A delicate hand on your shoulder pulls you away from him suddenly. You watch as Trafalgar keeps walking, never sparing a glance back. 

“Come with me,” You’re met with a woman with blonde hair. “I’m Marguerite.”

You tell her your name and follow her, though you are unsure where. 

“We have so many clothes for you to choose from,” She giggles. “It isn’t often we get women visitors. Most of the time, it’s men trying to infiltrate.” 

A pang of grief hits you in the chest. It’s unfair these women are still under the threat of unknown men despite having their own island. Though Marguerite doesn’t look too upset about it, you know they are more than capable of handling those men on their own. It’s inspiring. 

“Here,” She continues, shoving you lightly into a tent. 

Immediately, another woman hands you a red bikini. “Try this on.” 

And then you’re swept up by the group of women. Silks and linens are thrown at you, tried on and discarded when you decline the colour or fit of a piece. The women are in awe of your power. They ask you to mend or adjust certain places on their outfits, and you're more than happy to help. 

You hear the Heart Pirates murmuring from their spot on the grass behind the tent walls, food piled high on their plates. Despite your initial hesitation, you laugh along with the women, trading secrets and tips that you could only do with Nami and Robin. 

You feel comfortable here. 

It isn’t until you emerge from the tent that the men go quiet. After knowing you for a fortnight, seeing you in such little clothing has them hollering. You grit your teeth. 

“Enough,” Trafalgar snaps at his crew. You won’t admit it, but the commanding tone of his voice warms your cheeks. “Get back to your food, morons.”

Marguerite laughs at him, and then she turns to you. “Remember, strength equals beauty.” 

You nod, smiling, adjusting the straps of the bikini you wear with your power. It’s something you hold dear to you for a long while. 

“Line up if you want seconds!” A tall woman says, laughing when the Heart Pirates stumble over each other to form a queue. 

“You better get in there if you’re hungry,” Marguerite smiles. “Looks like they’ll take it all.” 

You spot Bepo near the front of the line and thank Marguerite for all she’s done. 

“It’s my pleasure,” She waves as you snake through the crowd. 

“Hey,” You greet Bepo. “What’s on the menu?” 

“Uh…” His eyes look directly into yours, his body stiff. “Stew.” 

You squint at him. “You wouldn’t mind if I skip the line, then?” 

“Never.” 

You roll your eyes at his clipped tone. Scanning the crowd, Trafalgar is nowhere to be seen. Someone in front of you hands you a bowl, and you thank them, stepping to the front of the line. 

“Hello,” The pirate smiles. “I’m Aphelandra.” 

You tell her your name and stick out your bowl when she gestures for it. 

“Must be weird being in a submarine full of men,” She rambles. “Are they all stretchy?” 

You’re taken aback by her question but laugh. “No, the only stretchy guy I know is Luffy.” 

She gasps. “So, you know Luffy?” 

“He’s my captain.” 

“Really? We must tell the Snake Princess,” With a full bowl, you’re pulled beside her. “Eat, you must regain your strength.” 

With your eyes on the trees, you do as she says. You swear you saw a glimpse of Traflagar’s patterned hat when you emerged from the tent. “Have you seen the guy with the funny hat?”

Aphelandra smiles down at you. “The spotty one? He went into the forest.” 

“Thanks,” You grin, placing your empty bowl on the small table beside her and making a beeline for the trees. 

It smells of pine and the rotting wood, and if it weren't for the crashing waves, you’d think you were on an island far away, deep in the trees. 

Your hair snags on a twig before you decide to call for him. “Trafalgar?” 

His response is almost immediate. “Here, sweetheart.” 

You follow the sound of his voice. Trafalgar sits against a tree, a burgundy bottle between his fingers. 

“Whatcha doing out here?” 

He shrugs, sporting his usual bored look. “Not a very social person.” 

You sit in silence as he sips his drink. The birds sing tunes you’ve never heard, and the waves crash against the cliff faces harmoniously. There’s an inkling of anxiety stirring your insides, but you know you’ll get through it. What did Trafalgar say? It only hurts this much right now... You repeat it like a mantra. It will get better. 

“Don’t think too hard. You might hurt yourself again.” 

Scoffing, you shove his shoulder. “Shut up.”

Trafalgar gives you a sidelong glance, a smirk on his lips. “How’s your side? Getting better?” 

You nod, your fingertips running over the bandages unconsciously. “The medication you gave me helps a lot, I barely have any pain.” 

“Good.” 

You study his side profile: the slope of his nose, the harsh cut of his cheekbone, the two gold hoops in his lobe, the dark hair that makes up his goatee... Swallowing, you exhale shakily. 

“I—”

“Excuse me.” 

You jump, looking up to see Marguerite and smiling when she greets you. You rub your palms against your thighs. What were you going to say to him just then? 

“Has Luffy regained consciousness?” 

Trafalgar shakes his head and keeps his voice even. “At this point, it’s up to his spirit and whether he wants to live or die. Nothing I can do anymore.” 

You’re surprised. He hasn’t told you that.

“Marguerite! Hurry up!”

The blonde girl turns, nodding. “Take good care of him until he gets better.” 

Trafalgar keeps the lip of the bottle up to his mouth but makes no move to drink. 

“His spirit, huh?” 

He sets the bottle into the dirt and twists it to stay upright. His demeanour shifts so seamlessly that you barely see it happen. 

“I see you’ve made yourself comfortable.” 

You look down at yourself. Usually, you’d feel embarrassed, but Trafalgar seems uncaring of such things. His eyes don’t criticise you, and you swear there’s a shimmer of something close to appreciation in his gaze. 

“I love it here,” You say, tilting your face to the sun. The distant chatter of the Heart and Kuja Pirates only elevates the warm feeling in your chest. 

“Then stay.” 

“What?” You ask, startled. 

Trafalgar closes his eyes and leans his head on the bark. You haven’t encountered his expression yet and can only interpret it as something close to pain.  

“I’m going wherever Luffy goes.” 

He sighs shakily. “Then it’s settled.” 

The air is thick, and you don’t dare move. You frown, mind racing. Have you done something wrong? Said something?

“Why would you—”

“Luffy! Calm down!”

The alarmed scream has you running toward the submarine, Trafalgar not far behind you. 

You see Jinbe standing on the edge of the cliff and reach him in time to see the roof of the Polar Tang explode, and something fly out the top. You're in too much shock to comprehend what’s happening. And before you know it, Luffy’s bandaged body falls to the grass with a sickening thump. 

“Luffy…”

“Something’s wrong,” Jinbe mumbles beside you. 

Your captain slowly pushes himself to his knees, his fingers digging into the dirt. “Ace.”

Your heart stops, and you grab Trafalgar’s wrist. The doctor is frozen. 

“Ace.”

Cries fall from Luffy’s lips, and he rises before you can approach him. “Where’s my brother?”

You stumble backward, Trafalgar’s chest is hard against your head. Clutching your stomach, you feel sick. He wraps his arm around you, his forearm leaning on your collarbones, barring you from running over there.

Luffy moves before you see him, and then he’s gone. 

“That way!” Penguin yells, pointing to the area you were not 30 seconds ago. The Heart Pirates go after him, but Trafalgar holds you close to him. 

“You’re okay,” He whispers, steadying you. His breath is hot on your ear, and your body almost betrays you. 

Jinbe watches Luffy run around with worry etched on his face. “What happens if he stays in this state?” 

“If he keeps flailing around,” Trafalgar says, narrowing his eyes. “He’s more likely to open his wound, and if that happens, then he’s dead.” 

You cover your face with your palms, unable to form words. 

“Quick! He’s down!” 

Tears blur your vision as you look up, but as soon as they jump on Luffy, the Heart Pirates get flung into the sky. “I have to get to my brother! Get off me!” 

“Oh, Luffy,” You cry, watching as he runs through the curtain separating Amazon Lily and the bay. The pirates stop before they cross the threshold. You want to yell at them for stopping, but remember what Marguerite said. 

“Repair the ship,” Trafalgar commands behind you, removing his arm to throw it toward the submarine. 

“Yes, captain,” A few of them obey, boarding the ship and immediately getting to work. 

You snatch Luffy’s hat from the rock when Trafalgar’s back is turned before standing on wobbly legs and running toward the curtain. 

“Hey, hey!” Bepo yells after you, but you don’t look back. 

Trafalgar yells your name, worry etched in his tone, but you refuse to stop. 

You must get to your captain. 

— Scene 9 —

You trudge through the trees, insects zipping past your ears every few seconds. It's humid in the forest, and you wipe the sweat from your forehead. 

A stick snaps behind you, and you spin around, your hands out. “Jinbe.” 

The Fishman grunts and walks past you. “We must find him. I fear he’ll get himself hurt if we don’t soon.” 

You silently agree, following him over logs and through thick brush. Luffy’s hat sits at your back, the string around your neck. You’d never put it on, but you don’t want it ruined before you give it to him. 

The ground rumbles under your feet, and you stagger. “What was that?” 

Jinbe quickens his pace. “This way.”

You jump over a particularly large branch and try to keep up with him. A scream echoes through the trees, and your body freezes in its spot. 

Jinbe glances over his shoulder. “The only danger here is Luffy.” 

“Luffy…” You whisper. You can't imagine the agony he feels right now. 

Another scream is heard before there's a crash, one that causes the trees to sway uncontrollably. You see rocks flying in all directions and duck to avoid them, using Sew to weave threads above you to catch stray debris. Birds fly overhead at alarming speeds, and you can only guess what was thrown into the mountain to create such an explosion. 

“We’re close, quickly.” 

Before you know it, you see your captain hunched over on the ground, his forehead on the dirt. You gasp at the blood on his hands and back. 

Luffy lifts his head, and you have to look away from the sheer torment on his face. 

“Luffy, listen to me,” Jinbe calls. “Your brother is—”

“Don’t say it!” Your captain screams. “You think I don’t know? You think I think this is a dream?”

You wipe the silent tears that run down your cheeks. It's jarring to see someone you’ve seen be carefree for as long as you’ve known him like this. You feel sick watching him as tendrils of your thread lift the debris from around your captain. 

“If this were a dream, I’d already be awake, don’t you think?” 

“Luffy…” You mutter.

“This isn’t a dream… Is it?” Luffy sobs. “He’s really dead, isn’t he?”

Jinbe sighs. “I’m afraid so.” 

Your captain starts hyperventilating, his breaths short and his face wet with blood and tears. 

“Luffy…” You call, noticing how his body freezes. His eyes find yours, and his jaw falls open. 

He murmurs your name. “Is this a dream, too?”

You stumble over to him, your hands out before you. “No, this isn’t a dream. I’m here.” 

“Wha— How? Did you see Ace, too?” 

You crouch in front of him and shake your head. “I didn’t, but I was at Marineford when we picked you up.” 

‘We?” Luffy asks, his voice holding a tinge of hope. “Are the others here?” 

“No,” You say, wiping his face. “It's only me.” 

Luffy’s cries don’t lessen. “Are they dead, too?” 

You feel your bottom lip tremble at the question. You shrug pathetically. “I don’t know.” 

Luffy falls back down to the dirt. “I’m so tired.” 

You throw Jinbe a desperate look, feeling Luffy slip through your fingers. 

“I’m so weak!” Luffy suddenly yells. “I’m useless!” 

“Luffy—”

“How can you call me your captain? I’m pathetic.” He stands and runs at the large boulder just outside of the trees. He slams his fists into the rock, breaking it into pieces. “I couldn’t save my brother or my crew!”

Jinbe walks up beside you as threads halt the stones from flying into you, and you struggle under their weight. 

“Fuck!” Luffy screams, punching another rock. “Useless!” 

Jinbe says your name. “I think you should leave.”  

Your hand covers your mouth, and your expression morphs into shock. Did you hear him right? You feel the needles of your power wanting to escape, to tighten around him. Your Devil Fruit purrs in your ear as it drops the rocks a few feet away and aims for the Fishman instead. 

“Please don’t make me force you.”

“No! I’m not leaving my captain here!” You scream, threads weaving from your fingers. “What kind of pirate—what kind of person would that make me?” 

“There’s no time for questions,” Jinbe exclaims. “Go!”

“I can’t—”

“I’ll bring him back safely. You don’t need to see this.” 

Your power cracks and fizzles out under your skin as you grapple for it. But it's useless unless you want to lose control, and you know better than to let that happen. 

“Jinbe,” You cry, body too weak to fight him. Luffy hunches over with his hands on his knees, yelling. “Help him.” 

“I will,” He waves you away. “Now go!” 

You sprint back to the bay, forcing your legs to run. You’ve betrayed your loyalty.

Your cheeks are stained with tears and dirt, and your hands are covered in blood. With weak knees, you try jumping over the fallen logs as you did before, but now you’re exhausted, and it feels like they are rocks tied to your feet. 

You sob frantically, stopping to press your palm against a tree every few minutes. Shaking your head, you sniffle. The bay isn’t too far away, and you can hear the seagulls chirping. Your fingers wipe under your eyes, though you know it won’t do anything. You can imagine the state of you. 

You hear Bepo calling your name as you stumble through the curtain. “What happened?” 

There’s blood all over you, which you failed to notice before; the staining on your hands was just the start of it. You stare at your hands as panic rises inside you. Who’s blood is this?

“Where did you go?” Trafalgar’s harsh voice hits your ears before his hand grips your bicep. “Who did this?” 

“Nobody,” You cry, holding onto Trafalgar’s fingers. “Luffy, he—”

You don't hear what the doctor says before he catches you. “Okay, let’s get you to the ship.” 

You shake your head, forgetting the blood on your hands when you fist his shirt. “No! I can’t go there. Not with Luffy out here.” 

“Okay, well, where do you want to go?”

If Jinbe were to be trusted, which seems like a silly thought to question, you know Luffy would be okay. It takes your mind a while to accept that your body needs rest. The adrenaline from seeing Luffy and then running is wearing off, and the fatigue you’ve ignored hits you all at once. 

You sniff, pulling him weakly to a rock. “I just need to lie down, and then I can fight for him.” 

Trafalgar makes no sound when you push him to the ground. Your breathing is calming down, though hiccups still pass your lips. 

“Who were you fighting against? Did they do this to you?” 

“Just sit still for an hour, okay?” You whimper, putting your head on his lap, his jeans rough against your cheek. You can feel his thigh tense underneath you, clearly not used to having someone so close. Sniffling once more, your muscles relax against the ground. “No more questions.” 

When you close your eyes, Trafalgar says nothing, and the waves crashing against the rocks are just as soothing as the hand on your shoulder. 

— Scene 10 —

There’s a hand patting your head when you wake. It’s not gentle, and there's no rhythm, and when you lift your head, you notice the bandages wrapped around his legs. When did Trafalgar get injured? 

The sky is dark, and the stars sparkle above you. It’s a sight you’ve missed. 

“Hey, sleepyhead.” 

“Luffy,” You're in shock at the familiar voice, scrabbling to your knees so you’re not leaning on him anymore. “Are you okay? Why are you here?”

Your captain shrugs, a dopey grin on his face. “I don’t think so. I’m here to say goodbye.” 

“What?” You shake your head. 

“Straw Hat. Pack it up.”

Luffy sighs, his wide eyes glassy. “You gotta go.” 

You pause, a crease forming between your eyebrows. “What? Where?”

“Traffy’s going to take you with him.” 

Shaking your head, you don’t dare take your eyes off Luffy when you hear someone walk up behind you. “I’m staying here with you.” 

“You can’t. We have to get stronger.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

Luffy puts his hands on your shoulders. “You’re going to go with Traffy, and I’ll see you in two years.” 

Two years. “Wait, what? What do you mean two years?” 

Strong hands slip under your armpits from behind and lug you to your feet. You feel your body lift off the ground but do nothing. You’re too shocked to form complaints against whoever’s taking you away. 

“Meet me back at Sabaody in two years.” 

“No, Luffy. I’m here now. Why would I do that?” You struggle against them, your power still sleeping under your skin. 

“We won’t stand a chance in the New World,” Luffy stands. “Get stronger.” 

The person leading you to the Polar Tang whispers an apology as they spin you around and throw you over their shoulder. 

“Bepo?” Your voice comes out in a cracked whimper when you realise it's the bear carrying you. 

“I’m sorry,” He repeats, holding you tightly. 

“Luffy!” 

“Please,” Your captain says your name. “It's the only way. I’ll be fine here!”

“What about the others?” You cry. “How will they know?” 

“I have a plan.” 

You scoff, bordering on laughter. “Of course you do.” 

“Get stronger!” Luffy yells. “And I’ll see you in the New World!” 

Shaking your head, a crazed laugh falls from your lips in disbelief. You should’ve known he’d do something like this. He never does anything half-assed. 

Get stronger. 

“Are you out of your mind?” 

Luffy cackles, tears bordering his waterline. “Yeah!” 

Get stronger. 

If he can smile at a time like this, especially after what he’s been through, then so can you. 

And if Luffy trusts Trafalgar Law to train you in the two years he promised, then so do you. You trust Luffy with your life. 

Swallowing your emotion, you smile back at him. “Fine! I’ll see you in two years, captain!” 

Get stronger. 

You hear Luffy whoop with joy, and before you know it, the door of the Polar Tang slams behind you. Bepo lets you down, steadying you as the submarine goes under. 

It hits you just before you take the first step. “Luffy’s hat!” 

“It’s okay, I gave it to him,” You turn to see Trafalgar leaning against the wall with his katana back on his shoulder. “You feeling okay, sweetheart?” 

“Physically, kinda,” You say, holding onto the railing as you descend the stairs. “Emotionally, no.”

Trafalgar clicks his tongue. “Expected.” 

“Captain, maybe she should eat…” 

You’re so terribly worn out that your eyes are dry. There’s no use crying when it doesn’t serve a purpose. You’re here now, and you will be for the next two years. You hold onto the hope that you’ll see your crew on Sabaody after that time, and that’s enough for a small smile to grace your face. 

You peer up at Bepo, who smiles sheepishly. “Hungry?” 

If polar bears could blush, they’d now look like Bepo. “Uh, no. Just a suggestion, you know… Food helps everything.”

He sounds like Luffy.  

“Can you make rice balls?” You ask Trafalgar. 

“Me?” He acts like it offends him. 

“Bepo let it slip that they’re your favourite, so I know you’d make them best.” 

“Tsk,” He glares at the mink. “I’m busy.”

“Surely not enough to decline making your guest food, Traffy.”

“Traffy, huh?” Bepo snorts. 

Trafalgar runs his tongue over his teeth. 

“Please?” You smile. 

“No. You’re a pest. Go bother someone else.” 

With that, he disappears down the stairs. You stand there with Bepo, the sound of pots clanging making your stomach rumble. 

“I can’t remember the last time he made rice balls,” Bepo says. “He makes other foods, but that one is special to him.”

You go to ask why, but think against it. Trafalgar wouldn’t want his crew members airing out his business. Instead, you shrug. 

“Maybe one day I’ll persuade him.” 

Bepo laughs, scratching behind his ear. “Good luck with that.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him. 

“Anyway, let’s go ask Penguin what’s for dinner,” The bear says. “I wanted rice balls, too.” 

As you turn the corner to the kitchen, the area is quiet. 

“That’s weird,” Bepo says. “Penguin doesn’t shut up when he cooks…”

A familiar katana leans against the counter when you enter, and before you can decipher why, Bepo gasps behind you, confirming your outlandish suspicion—which, as it turns out, wasn’t so in the first place. 

“What filling do you want? I’m not asking again,” Trafalgar’s voice holds irritation. He stands at the stove without his hat, his hair dishevelled. You refrain from giggling. 

Bepo makes a surprised sound. “No way…”

You laugh, stunned, and slide onto the bar stool beneath the counter. Trafalgar’s hat sits beside you, and you eye it as you think about what type of filling you want.

He nods at your request and begins preparing it immediately. Bepo hasn’t moved from his spot in the doorway.  

“Snap out of it, idiot.” 

“Sorry.” Bepo lowers his head and ambles to you to sulk in the chair beside you. 

Trafalgar works silently, seeming comfortable as he rolls the premade rice into triangles. He’s meticulous, using a practised amount of rice to protect the filling, and a knife to slice the nori into even strips. 

Watching him be so careful with the onigiri makes you wonder if there’s more to his delicate touch. One that can bring warmth and comfort to someone. If that translates to his intentions, and if he really wants you here, or if he felt pressured by Luffy to take you on board. 

The question bubbles out of you before you can help it. Despite the setting, it's not one about food. 

“Why did you tell me to stay on Amazon Lily?” Your voice surprises him. 

Bepo looks at you incredulously. The question hangs in the air, and you see Trafalgar’s shoulders tense. 

“I’m gonna go…” Bepo murmurs, slipping from the chair and running from the kitchen.

Trafalgar sighs, rolling his eyes at his crew member. His back is to you, but you can tell he’s thinking of a reply. 

“I figured you’d had enough of a submarine full of men. You seem happy on the island.”

There’s something unsaid in his words, something deeper, but you’re too unsure what it could be to delve into it. Instead, you smile. 

“And here I was, thinking I was just a pawn,” You laugh, running your fingers along the brim of his soft hat. The memory of a few days ago burns deep inside you. It makes you think about his hands again. “Besides, you’re not allowed there, so why would I stay?” 

“Mm?” Although the hum sounds non-committal, you can feel him side-eyeing you. 

You wouldn’t admit it, but you’ve grown fond of him. But your cheeks warm when you realise the connotation of your rhetorical question, and your focus remains on his hat. “Who will I annoy if not you?” 

Trafalgar sighs and laughs a breathy laugh. “You’re going to be a pain in my ass, aren't you sweetheart?” 

You raise your eyebrows and shrug, feigning innocence. His easy laughter gives you all the evidence that he wants you on his submarine. “Two years isn’t that long, Traffy. You’ll survive.” 

He mumbles something under his breath and turns around, two plates in his hands. 

You take one from him. On the plate sits two onigiris, each a perfect triangle with a strip of nori on the bottom. “Thank you.”

Trafalgar grunts and picks up one of his onigiris. You copy him, eyeing how he bites the top off precisely. 

“What’s in yours?” You ask, chewing. The flavour explodes in your mouth, and you refrain from moaning in delight. You can feel Trafalgar’s eyes on you, but don’t look up as you play with a stray piece of rice on the plate. 

“Grilled salmon,” He speaks when he finishes swallowing. “Do you like it?” 

The question seems loaded, as if he’s not just asking about rice balls. It catches you off guard, the discernable keenness. Maybe you didn’t notice it before, with all your exhaustion and constant unconsciousness, but he’s hanging on your every word. His eyes are full of hope before he blinks, and it vanishes. You swear you saw it, and it fills you with shy satisfaction. 

He definitely wants you on his submarine. 

Remembering his original question, you nod. “It’s good.” 

It's an understatement, but Trafalgar seems content with your answer and continues eating his food. 

“You can call me Law, you know. No need to be so formal now that you’ll be here for a while.” 

Your eyes widen, and a soft ‘oh’ leaves your lips.  

Trafalgar is quick to speak. “Only if you’re comfortable. I know I’m considered a rival and all that.” 

You mull over his request, eyeing his hunched posture and countless tattoos beneath his elbows. His hair flops over his forehead, and his lips are twisted into an awkward pout, and you realise this is the same man you saw on your first night. 

“Law,” You whisper, and when you look at him, your mind plays a trick on you because his cheeks are tinted pink, and there’s a vulnerable look in his eye. 

A fortnight isn’t a long time, and despite your quarrels, you think you’ll get to know Trafalgar Law much more than you anticipated.

[teeskzagain]

pov: bully!perv wooyoung couldn’t resist an opportunity to mess with you

warnings: brief mentions of bullying (nothing severe), mentions of sexual frustrations, elements of cnc (but again, nothing extreme), fingering, mutual masturbation, “unwanted” ejaculation on to reader, public sex, like a smidge of fluff? take it or leave it, desperate woo (my fav actually) minor tit play.

wc: ~ 3.2k words

a/n: yk, i find it funny how i always try to make quick drabbles, but somehow it always gets turned in 1k and up fics…….anyways, enjoy!

taglist: @hwasbbyg @velvetmoonlght @blackp1nkfan @gigikubolong29 @solarhwa

imagine bully!perv wooyoung, who’s been sexually frustrated for the past few days, grumbling softly to himself. He hops up onto his usual bus route, the one he takes after a dance lesson, with pure agony and dread.

not only is he ticked off at how shitty his sex life’s been going (he was supposed to meet up with a girl tonight, yet she flaked) but now he has to endure a 40 minute long ride back to his home city with a currently dead phone. how annoying.

scuffling down the aisle, he continues to mumble about these facts whilst darting his lower lip out in a pouty way. there wasn’t many people occupying the front section of the bus, and so as he’s getting ready to take a seat nearby, he spots something that makes his whole body go rigid.

you. near the back. staring idly out of the window. hands clasped together, watching the nightly glow from outside. wooyoung cocks his head to the side. what are you doing here? had you always taken this route and he’s never noticed before? but that couldn’t have been the case, surely he would’ve recognized you at some point during his few weeks of riding the bus here and back home.

wooyoung mulls this thought over.

well, knowing you, you’d probably ride all the way back on the dirty bus floor if it meant completely evading him.

he seriously wouldn’t put it past you to do such a thing. the dynamic between you two has always been skewed since the start of university. it’s almost laughable the extreme measures you’ve gone to stay out of his vicinity, though, wooyoung somehow always finds a way to taunt you.

and just like that, his lips form into a crude smile. he knows that you dislike him to no end. he knows you always try to avoid him at all costs. and, yeah, maybe he’s a little crass acting when he’s around you, but you make your hatred towards him so obvious it’s sort of hard not to take advantage of that. hence, the constant teasing courtesy of him.

and yet, he also knows that the work uniform you’re currently wearing is doing wonders for him right now. a pretty pastel dress that stops mid-thigh, with a crisp white collar around your neck. how it curves at your chest so nicely.

the way it cinches your waist, practically sculpting your body in perfect portions that he’s honestly never seen you in such a way before. makes him practically want to start salivating.

imagine bully!perv wooyoung, who’s just been so damn horny that he’s willing to do anything for a release. a chance to expel some of that pent up stress he’s been feeling, at least what he’s been feeling for tonight.

which is why moments later, you find the vacant spot right next to you now being occupied with a body. a body, that at the recognition of his face, makes you visibly shudder in disgust.

wooyoung wastes no time in sparking up conversation, though it comes off as one-sided with your lack of participation. he wouldn’t expect anything less from you. he deems your cold act towards him something that intrigues him. a challenge almost. and he wants to see you break.

“y/n….you’re so quiet today.” he remarks more towards himself as he watches you closely, “something on your mind?”

you drag the lower part of your lip into your mouth in attempt to distract yourself from this bastard. gosh, does he just get off on messing with you?

at the beacon of silence, wooyoung prompts more questions and even leans in to further accentuate his presence, “yah, you know it’s rude to ignore someone when they’re talking to you right? i’m your senior too, so treat me with more respect.”

without turning too much towards him, you partly twist your body and speak quietly. you didn’t wish to cause a scene, “stop it.”

ah, now he’s got you.

“i’m just pointing out that you’re a bad junior. what, does that bother you?” he raises an eyebrow with the question, and in turn has to hide the spreading smile on his face as your body does yet another scootch towards him.

“will you please be quiet?” your somber voice ends with a bite, doing a quick glance over your shoulder.

he digs further, “i’m wanting to talk with my favorite, little y/n, and here you are. acting so cruel to me. really, it’s hurtful-”

“jung. wooyoung.” you snap, shifting once again so you’re currently chest to chest with your classmate. as your gaze bores deeply into his own, you can see a mix of emotions radiating in the center of his pupils.

“yeah?” wooyoung stares you down with a sinister grin, happy to get some sort of reaction out of you.

he isn’t sure how sex deprived he is, but just hearing you say his name already sends a wave of arousal surging through him.

your lip twitches out of annoyance. there’s more words threatening to spill from your tongue, but it’s like nothing wants to come out, so for a moment you're quiet. eyes scattering around, you eventually break eye contact with wooyoung and gaze your attention downwards.

though when you finally avert your eyes, your breath quickly catches when you spot a large lump resting idly within his baggy joggers. a small, 'hip' leaves your throat.

wooyoung follows your eye line, then lets out a soft chuckle once he sees what is you’re gaping at. yeah, sporting a half chub right now probably isn’t the best look. but if he’s being completely honest, he’s getting harder at the fact you’re straight up gawking at him.

“oh, right.” he begins to half-comment, then does a quick peep at you, “this is kinda your fault, just so you know.”

"huh?" skittishly, you go to look at him before turning away as embarrassment floods your skin after getting caught staring.

wooyoung tucks in his lips to suppress an affection grin, him reaching a hand up to tug at your dress. he tries to gain your attention once more, “come on, don’t act stupid.”

he closes the space between you two as he continues to press you for another clapback. in response, you tuck your face into your shoulder and create a shield from him. but, wooyoung’s relentless.

his hand on your dress turns into a hand on your thigh. he grips your flesh with a sing-song voice until you eventually look back at him. as he continues to spew comments, you couldn’t help if your eyes caught a glimpse of the now fully erected bulge protruding through the fabric.

he’s quick to notice this and calls you out on your glances, “you wanna see it or something?”

horror washes over you face. you begin to stammer in protests, asking him why he would say such a thing and that he’s being inappropriate.

a hearty laugh bellows from wooyoung. god, does he find you cute. so dumb, yet so cute. keeping his grasp on you, he begins to slouch further into the bus seat while he spreads his legs out. his knee accidentally knocks into yours just as he rolls his neck in your direction.

“seriously, you want to?” he waits for response but as you go to shake your head, he’s already reaching for your hand, “y/n, i think you’re a fucking perv.”

“w-wooyoung, what the hell?.” you fight to take your hand off of his crotch, but he simply fights right back, keeping a strong hold on your fingers. in no time, he drops your hand on top of his clothed hard-on and forces you to rub him.

"let me go!" you hiss, but the request goes ignored. he’s enjoying your struggle, your combat against him.

in an almost exaggerated manner, he starts to accentuate his hip rolls against your touch. it begins as a joke, with him enjoying your bewildered expression at his actions. but quickly does he start to lavish in the desperate heat he’s been feeling all night, “oh fuck. y/n, you always touch guys like this?”

the nerves in your fingers feel electrified, almost like a buzz when he’s teasing you. the sensation is foreign. you want to scrunch your face in disgust at his gratification. scream help at the other three people who sat towards the front of the bus, oblivious to what’s happening.

however, you can recognize what the worst feeling was. the fact that through it all, a tiny pulse begins to build between your legs. how badly you hated this, you hated him, and yet, that’s the very thing turning you on. what is wrong with you?

the realization of his hard length being dragged against your fingers brings you back, as you start to register the slickness coating your skin. wooyoung darts a tongue out and flings his head back, exposing the vast area of his neck. he’s got a small smile on his face, “go inside my pants.”

“you’re disgusting….” sneering, you glare deeply at the boy who’s simply basking in the pleasure you’re providing. he feels your stare and you watch him slightly tilt his head down, the little hairs on his forehead falling forward.

“do you really think that?” his voices pipes up at the end before giving you a smug look, “you think i’m so bad?”

and right as you go to confirm those thoughts, a quick motion cuts you off. soon, you feel pressure from underneath your dress, then against your underwear; he’s now pressing his fingers on top of your cunt.

“cause if i didn’t know any better,” he removes his hand from your area and decides to shove it in your face, “you fucking like this.”

the movement startles you briefly and it takes a second for your eyes to focus. though as soon as your vision clears, you see wet fingers staring back at you. it causes your breath to hitch, “i don’t.”

“bullshit.” he dives his hand back under your dress, ready to collect more slick, and involuntarily you clasp your thighs around his hand. eyes squeezed shut, the moment contact was made, you’re brimming with sensitivity.

he watches you intensely. now that you have him trapped, he takes the time to start grazing the fabric of your panties, beginning at a leisure pace. wooyoung leans his head close to your ear and starts to murmur, “right. you clearly hate this.”

with each stroke his fingers get wetter. with each massage his dick gets harder, if that’s even possible. and with each rub, he sees your body beginning to relax into his touch. your shoulders droop, your body slouches deeper into him, and he can see your chest heaving up and down lowly. you’re such a liar.

“oh, god.” you mumble, and wooyoung has to stop a groan from leaving him at your current state. you’re succumbing to him so well, so easily. he loves each and every second of this, but he even with this, he understands there’s always more to enjoy.

“alright, y/n, nothing’s free.” he starts to ease up on you, his touches becoming lighter, and he gives you a knowing glance, “come on, let’s go.”

his pelvis raises slightly to draw attention towards his lonely cock, and you could only crane your head slowly towards him. going from his crotch and up to his face, you gaze at him with an expression of reluctancy.

the aching in your cunt is screaming at you to push forward, however, the logistic side of your brain is harshly reprimanding you for even considering. after thinking it over, it’s almost as if your hand began to move on its own, essentially giving into your tempted desires.

you drag your somewhat limp of palm up towards his waistband, slipping past the blue boxer’s he’s sporting, and finally place it onto his bare cock. he’s immediately responsive, sighing as he slowly rocks himself into your palm to create momentary friction.

at his expression, you can’t help the bubble of disgust that’s rising up inside of you, mixing with your feeling of lust. you grip his bulge, he hums in content. you start to slide your hand up and down, he’s staring at you with ever-loving eyes. in just a few tugs, he’s already huffing with breath stuttering. his own pre-cum begins to cover his shaft, and in return you can sense your hand getting drenched.

“you make me sick.” you say in a hushed voice and wooyoung scoffs at your words.

“oh, fuck off. you love it.” he counters as he takes the fingers inside your dress and uses them to shove your underwear off to the side, going back to circling your now unclothed pussy. literal drops of wetness spill from your entrance, and he can feel it spread in every round strokes he’s producing.

you melt like putty at his hand. from the perfect pressure he’s applying to his occasional dips inside. he’s giving your core the desperate assistance it needed from the moment you for first began feeling like this. it’s almost difficult for you to continue with your jerking inside of his pants, but at every moment you begin to slip, wooyoung swiftly reminds you to do a better job.

“you except me to get off with that flimsy hold? grip it like you mean. yah, i said grip it.”

he halts his movements monetarily, creating an ode to himself to not start up again until you do exactly as you’re being told. your eyelids vibrate in irritation, part of you wanting to keep up with the defiance act. yet, you knew if wanted to leave this situation with some sort of pleasure, obeying this ass would be your best option.

you reposition your hand on his cock, then start your motion up once more. wooyoung’s transported back into his bliss, his eyes having difficulty staying opened. his hips involuntarily ruts inside of your grasp, as he tries his best to not blow his load in the confinements of his pants. no, if he’s going to finish, he knew he needed to make it as easy of a clean up as possible.

which is why a few strokes later, from both you to him, and when wooyoung senses your fat pussy clenching particularly hard against his digits, it’s only then he decides to execute the final stage of his self-pleasuring. he also starts to notice the familiar streets and roads of his neighborhood which lets him know his stop is going to be coming up soon.

just as you feel yourself ready to unravel, coldness floods your core you realize wooyoung’s completely removed himself away and is scrambling to get your hand from being trapped in his sweats.

he’s rushing, now, evident of the quick turnaround he has and how his own hand replaces yours inside of his fleeced joggers. with deep breaths and hazy eyes, he drags his look towards your eyes before dropping his gaze down to your full chest.

“fuck, and i didn’t even get to see your tits,” he mumbles quietly to himself, then darts his vision up to you, “you wanna take ‘em out really quick? just enough so i can how sexy they are.”

an apprehensive groan leaves you, nervousness replacing the arousal you were feeling just a few seconds prior. but, you would be lying if you said the desperate look on jung wooyoung’s face wasn’t getting you bothered right now. how he has an expression between wanting to kiss you and wanting to do more swirling in his pupils.

which is why in no time, you’re turning your body away from the front and more toward the boy, as you begin to undo the buttons of your pretty, pink dress. you don’t go all the way down, just enough to expose the matching pink bra you decided to pair with the outfit.

he whimpers softly at the reveal, “oh my- go all the way for me.”

you do as instructed and reaching up towards you breasts, you begin to pull out your mounds and leave them to hang off of your chest. the cool, still air grazes your erected nipples, causing them to be pointed and you almost resist the urge to twirl your fingers between them.

wooyoung’s tugging grows faster, seeing as the way his hand bobs up and down inside his pants. it’s almost as if he forgot he’s wearing clothes, then once he remembered this fact, he’s scrambling to pull his sweatpants and boxers down mid-thigh. you can now see his thick, red cock out in the open, and threatening to spill at any second.

his breathing turns shallow, and wooyoung continues to rub one out. he even goes as far as taking his unoccupied hand and brining it towards your flesh, grabbing a handful of your tit then moving on to playing with your bud. the action causes you to wince and whine, your mouth forming into an ‘o’ with shut eyes.

at hearing your adorable voice, wooyoung loses it. he feels his orgasm getting ready to wash over, but instead of finishing all over himself, he tilts his cock forward and points his head directly at you.

and before you know, ropes of wooyoung’s cum is getting spritzed onto you lap, all over your legs. he’s marking you with his semen, and god is it so much. his ejaculation continues with tiny moans floating from his lips, beating his cock to your horrified look at the whiteness painting you a beautiful shade.

imagine bully!perv wooyoung, who’s finally had the release he’d been so needy to have all night.

“you’re so good, so damn good.” he says in more of an after thought, finally relieved to have been able to release his frustration, better yet, onto you. he’s still twitching from sensitivity, but that doesn’t stop wooyoung from tucking himself back into his pants and hoisting them up once again. you,still relegate in the fact that you are literally dripping with cum.

just as he’s finishes redressing himself, the bus begins to slow before coming to a stop. you don’t even have time to process what just happened as wooyoung’s quickly grabbing his stuff and standing up, ready to leave. however, he makes sure to leave with parting words before seeing you again at school the next day.

“yah, y/n. take a picture of you in that dress and send it to me.” he quietly asks with up-right corners.

you could only huff out a, ‘fine’. eliciting anything more would’ve taken far too much effort and right now, you were upset at the lack of pleasure for yourself. wooyoung softly laughs at your response but before he fully exits, he dips his head down to place a gentle kiss on your cheek.

he gives you one more smile and a, “now we can cross this one off of the list,” then in a flash he’s gone and off the bus, disappearing into the night.

it’s weird. the relationship between you two.

one minute he’s annoying the absolute reckon out of you, the next he’s placing soft pecks against your skin. you still hated him, and everything he did. his actions that somehow always left you in a perplexed state.

however, maybe what you hated most, was not the crude, antagonizing jokes, but rather the flutter your heart does at the remembrance of his lips lightly on your cheek after each and every encounter.

[caotictimmy]

can you do an anya x female reader where the reader comforts her and they steal a sweetener packet to share

A non acually kiss me. Jk.. or am I? But I love this idea so fucking much. Idk if you wanted pre crash or post crash but I’m gonna do post crash.

But thank you for your request anonnie 💋💋💋💋

Content arting : Period talk for like a sentence

Anya has been acting different.. Everyone has after the crash. But you suspected something was just wrong. So when everyone was busy doing something. You decided to scout her out to figure what was wrong and help!

You were walking the halls to the medical. Before you heard something. The soft sounds of sobbing. You immediately thought to Anya. When you turned the corner. You saw her sitting by the closed medical door, knees to her chest, face in her hands. Sobbing uncontrollably. “Anya! What’s wrong?”, you quickly rushed to her side. She looked up from her hands, looking a bit embarrassed that she got caught crying.

“I-I..I’m sorry you shouldn’t see me like this”, she hiccuped out, through the tears still streaming down her rose tinted cheeks. “Hey! Hey! It’s ok, you can tell me what’s wrong Anya.” You whispered in a calm way, trying to make her feel better. She put her face back in her hands. “J-Ji-Jimmy get’s so mad when he has to f-feed curly-“ she said stuttering through the sentence. Trying to catch her breath. “His-his p-p-pills.” She sobbed harder mentioning the pills. “I can’t take his sounds of agony!” She looked up at you through her tear stricken eyes. “God his sounds. His awful sounds! It’s like they haunt every time I’m conscious!” Anya continued.

“Anya. I’ll start giving him his pills. I don’t need our wonderful nurse stressing anymore.” You said, trying to light the mood up. Which seemed to work as her frown turned into a small smile. “Y-you’d really do that for me, what about jimmy-“. You cut her off, “I’ll start worrying about jimmy when he pulls that big stick out of his ass. Just worry about yourself.” Anya giggled a bit when you mentioned Jimmy’s large ego. “Are you sure you’re okay with giving Curly his pain killers.” She asked warily. “I’m more than 100% positive.” You said. Giving her a confident grin. Which made Anya let out her own sweet smile.

“Now come on, I know exactly what to cheer you up.” You said. Grabbing her hand, pulling her up with you. Before dragging her to the kitchen. Anya gave you a confused look. But she still followed. You bring her to where you could get the packets of different substances. But most importantly. Sweetener. “Why are we by the packet maker. Isn’t only the captain only able to use it?” Anya asked, her look of confusion still evident on her face. Her eyes still glazed over from crying. “Anya would you like to see a magic trick?” You said with a cheeky grin.

“Uh..sure” she said with an awkward, but intrigued smile. You turn back to the packet maker. You start to rapidly push all the buttons at once, until the junky machine let out aloud beep. Anya let out an audible gasp when she heard the beep. She then proceeds to watch you put the code in for the sweetener. Even more to her surprise. It starts making the sweetener. “How.. how did you do that? Wait how did you even figure that out?” She said with amazement. The sadness laced completely gone by now. “All I have to say is never get in-between me when I’m having my period sugar cravings.” You laughed. Smirking wider as she let out her own laugh. You then looked back to the machine sweetener packet was done.

“Where do you decided where we share this together m’lady”. You teasingly say. Jokingly doing a curtsy in front of Anya. “How about outside the medical.” She said, snorting at your silly action. “What ever m’lady wants!” You said. Linking your arms together as you walk back to the medical. Things might be chaos on the tulpar, but these sweet moments made everything a bit better.

[luveline]

hello! do you think you could maybe write a james x fem!reader where he helps her calm down from a particularly bad panic attack? hyperventilating, zoning out, crying, etc? definitely not for my own personal wellbeing hahaha

James considers offering you his stress ball. It’s a palm-sized squishy rugby ball with deep grooves and splits from years of squeezing, but it does the job the same as any other. He always thinks it’s shameful that office jobs are stressful enough to require the invention of something to take your worries out on. 

He thinks it might be doubly shameful to let you sit there without asking what’s wrong. 

“Hey.” 

You raise your head to smile at him. It’s a good attempt at hiding how you’re feeling, but James already knows. “Hi.” 

Things are less frosty between you both. Honestly, James would say he likes you. Like, a lot. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

“I’m fine.” 

You take a steadying breath. 

“You don’t sound fine,” he says softly. He gives the office a quick survey and stands. “Come on, we’ll go sit somewhere quiet for a bit.” 

Your eyes widen. You don’t stand. 

Your breathing is too quick. James knows from experience that if you don’t get some time to yourself soon, you’re going to burst. It might be too late already. 

He takes your elbow into his hand. “Come on, it’s okay. We’re gonna take a walk.” 

Your breathing worsens by the second as James leads you out of the office. By the time you’re near the elevators, you’re struggling. Your inhales are short, shallow, and your exhales sound painful. It’s like you can’t get the air in, and when you do you can’t breathe anyways. 

“Hey,” he says, “it’s okay, angel, just take a big breath. One big breath, let’s slow down.” 

James is startled when you grab him, your face pressed hard to his shoulder. It came on so quickly, but he really does have experience in this. He’s got two best friends with a cargo hold of agonies each, and he’s learned how to take care of them. 

He finds he’d love to take care of you. There’s no reluctance there, only worry. 

“It’s okay,” James says, wrapping an arm around you lightly where you’re grabbing him. He could call you ‘angel’ again, toys with ‘sweet girl’, the s on his tongue, but it’s a little much for the moment.  He says your name instead with all the tenderness of a pet name, desperate to reassure you. “You’re okay.” 

You’re not listening, you can’t. You’ve zoned out of the present, panicked tears forced from your eyes with each harsh blink. You make a sound, a pained moan as you begin to buckle. 

James grabs you tightly. “Honey, it’s okay. It is, I promise. Take a deep breath. Just a deep breath, and we’re gonna sit down.” 

He’s sat with Remus through panic attacks that lasted long enough to consider taking him to the hospital. He has no idea what tripped you into this, but he can get you out of it eventually, with patience, and with care. James sits you down in an empty room along the hall and opens a window. He turns on the light, and he drags a chair to yours to sit almost knee to knee, taking your hand to hold.

“Can you copy me?” he asks. 

You shake your head. Your knee is jumping up and down in a hard jostle. Tears streak and drip from your cheek in jagged lines. Your panic is hot, sweat at your hairline, and it’s not pretty, but James doesn’t need it to be, he’s just desperate to make you feel better, and he’ll try every way he knows how. He takes breaths for you to copy, presses your hand to the seat to ground you, to force you to feel the starch of new tough leather on your fingertips. 

When it doesn’t work, he moves on. James doesn’t panic, it won’t help. He can imagine the fiery ache in your throat, and he’s concerned you might go light-headed, but he knows this is just panic. It’s something he can fix. 

“You’re doing so good,” he says softly, aware of the quiet in the room, your breathing the loudest echo. “But can you do something for me?” 

“James–” 

“No, I know, I know, it feels like it’s not going away, but it is. I need you to watch me, okay? Watch my arm. Watch this, angel, it’ll make sense.” 

And he begins raising and lowering his hand. He pushes it into the air, as high as his fingers can reach, and he brings it slowly to his thigh. Your eyes watch it move, at first frantic, and straying to other places, but eventually his arm begins to ache with the motion, and you’re following it diligently. He takes measured breaths as he does it. 

You copy his breathing. Your hyperventilating turns to plain crying, and then the tears come heavily but without sobbing. 

James lowers his hand. With the other, he rubs your thigh. “You did amazing, honey. You’re amazing, well done.” 

“I…” 

Your voice is hoarse. You don’t finish what you’d wanted to say. 

“Does that happen a lot?” he asks, worried it’ll start again. 

“No,” you say. James can’t tell if you're lying for his sake, but it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t mind if it happens again. 

He hates seeing you cry, though. “Good job,” he murmurs, rubbing your trembling leg, head ducked to be on your level, “good job, honey. You really did so well. All you have to do now is sit here and relax for a little bit.” 

“I have so much stuff to do.” 

“And I’ll help you. But right now, we’re gonna sit here.” 

You grab at his hand where it’s tracing a path. It’s definitely an overfamiliar touch, but you don’t mind, curling your fingers over the back of his palm. 

You have nothing to say. 

“Can I give you a hug?” James asks. He hopes his smile says it’s fine to not want one. 

“Please.” 

His chest aches a little. He slides his knee between yours and does the majority of the bending to hold you to him. “It’s okay,” he whispers as you take a shaky breath, his hand carving a path down your back. 

“I felt like…” 

James waits. Your voice is raw, but you’re not trembling as badly as you were. 

“I felt like I was gonna have a heart attack,” you confess. 

“I know. But you’re okay.” 

“I know,” you say with a sniffle that announces more tears. “I can’t believe I did that.” 

“You didn’t do anything. Nothing you had control over doing. Don’t think about it that way.” He pats your back. “Just try to feel better, that’s all you can do.” 

“You made me feel better, James. Thank you.” 

James hugs you. He tells you that he didn’t have much to do with it. All the hard work about panicking is the body that does it, he knows the ache of it afterwards, and he can feel your exhaustion. 

He’d let you fall asleep in his arms if that was what you needed to do, but after a while you’re okay to sit back. James leaves to get you a bottle of water from the vending machine, and when he returns you’re standing by the window and wiping your wet eyes. 

“Feeling okay?” he asks. 

You sniffle. “Yeah, I’m okay.” 

“Can I give you another hug?” he asks. This one being entirely for him. 

He can’t stand to see you sad. James wraps you up in a hug and sways you from side to side a couple of times. By the end of it you’re both feeling better than when your attack started, and that’s a job well done in James’ eyes. If he keeps special attention on you for the next few days, that’s his right. 

[gemissleeping]

Moonlight & Masks

Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader

Summary: Newly turned Death Eater Theodore Nott is tasked with hunting down Harry Potter and the Order Operative protecting him. Only to discover the person he hunts happens to be the one he loves.

Length: 1.8k

Notes: Back from the dead (I am so sorry things are hectic and I don’t want to release a chapter I’m not feeling) with this little one from @thatdammchickennugget’s Hogmarch Challenge! Death Eater Theo. Use of the killing curse. Angst as always because we know I live for the drama. For those of you wanting more Veleveteen, in my head this occurs in the same story universe (which I know isn’t the same as an update pls forgive my sins). Not proofread, we have deadlines to meet.

The sting of lightning hung in the air as she weaved through the trees. The thundering footfall still pressing behind her. Lungs burning with need, she pressed on. Dizzied from the turbulent descent she and Mad Eye had suffered.

Alastor. He was dead.

She hadn’t even been able to take his body from the dirt where it had fallen. And the Death Eaters certainly wouldn’t afford him the dignity of a proper burial.

Tears clawed at her cheeks as she bounded over the tree roots twisting across the forest floor. Thinking only of Mad Eye, the way his voice had simply ceased when the curse had hit him. No cry of pain, no strangled wail. Only silence.

Her grip on her wand tightened as her tears ran hot. The taunting laugh of one of her pursuers echoing through the trees as they crashed after her. The darkness spinning endlessly around her. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. Gone were the rules they had been taught to play by. Humanity sacrificed for power. Thoughtless with rage, she cast back her wand into the leering shadows. Letting the words fall from her lips before her heart could catch them.

Avada Kedavra

The green light felt as though it tore right through her as it ricocheted from her wand. Scattering through the trees and hitting its mark with a crack. Ripping at her chest with blistering heat, forcing her ribs apart until the spell dissipated. The laughter ceased. That same absence that had followed earlier resting through the trees. She was dragged to a still.

The force of the spell brought her to her knees. Bark breaking the skin of her palms, blood blooming as she fell forward in agony. She felt it being torn from her throat just now; some vital piece of herself. What she had given to cast the curse. The crack rung through her ears. Trailing her even as its ringing grew soft, faded into the background of the forest’s creaks and stutters. She could feel the heaving of her chest, dizzied by the absence that had been dug into her.

Before she could break upon the forest floor completely, the snap of a twig behind her brought reality rearing back. Whipping to face the darkness, she searched the teasing shadows that surrounded her. Nothing answered but the wind. She pushed herself up on bloody palms, staggering towards the nearest tree. Catching the glint of a metal smile hit by moonlight as she turned. But it was too late.

The Death Eater was on her in a second, wand jammed to her throat. One hand wrenching her head back by the hair. A mutilated snarl coming from the unmoving mask.

“Potter.”

She still had Harry’s face.

The figure towered before her, gloved hand pulling harshly at her hair as she strained against their grip. More tears pricking at her eyes as she faced the smooth and indifferent wall between them. Both of them were wearing masks really. But the thought brought little comfort to the nausea biting at her.

She was going to die someone else.

Wand to her throat, she closed her eyes. Preparing for the flurry of hot green light. Perhaps it was what she deserved, it could be a mercy. This way she would never have to truly face what she had done. There was no doubt in her mind that the person before her would finish the job. And yet she waited, but nothing came.

Opening her eyes once again she found him watching her carefully. Blue eyes clouded with something foreign, his silver mask lodged in the dirt at their feet. Looking at her with nothing but quiet restraint. She felt her throat close at the sight of him, all defences leaving her as she stared up at the boy before her.

“I asked something of you, when I saw you last,” Theo spoke lowly, wand still jammed to her throat as though he didn’t fully trust the person he saw before him. “Do you have an answer for me?” His voice fell flat against the forest air, low and heavy as his empty eyes.

His words sent another wave of dizziness crashing through her. The events of the past ten minutes threatening to bring everything up from her stomach. She wanted to fall into his chest and let his robes soak up her tears. To slice her palm clean across his cheek. Fall to the forest floor and not get up. Beg him to finish the job.

But instead, she did as she was told; she stayed quiet. Like the good little soldier they had taught her to be. Counting the freckles and moles that dotted the skin of his cheeks like they were her favourite constellations.

“Answer the question,” Theo snarled again, shoving her back forcefully. Back hitting the jagged edges of bark with an audible crack as a groan left her. Still she didn’t speak, blinking up at him as her head spun from when it had made contact with the tree.

“I’ll do it Potter,” he hissed lowly. His wand cutting further into her throat as she struggled to breathe under its pressure. He barely seemed to notice, staring down at her with empty eyes. “Don’t think I won’t just because you have something I want.”

She only watched him carefully, trying not to let herself give it away as she watched him. Staving off the clouds of memory that threatened to consume her at the sight of him.

“No?” He chimed, a sharp edge to his warm voice, “Very well.”

He drew a breathe, anger taking him in its burning grip. But just as the curse he had planned to cast was forming a whisper of air on his lips; she felt it. The rippling beneath her skin. Pulling and tugging and melting at the fibres of her. She bit her tongue as the pain of it ripped through her. Reforming beneath the skin as everything cracked and popped in and out of place. Until only she remained, swimming in Harry’s ridiculous hoodie.

Theo still had her pressed against the tree, all colour drained from his face as he watched the skin seem to melt and reform on her bones. His hands began to shake. She watched him with distant eyes, trying to hold onto what little restraint remained.

“What’s wrong?” She asked hoarsely, her throat aching from the potion’s due course. Theo’s wand still hesitantly pressed to the delicate skin of her throat. “Can’t do it anymore?”

It happened like the break of a dam. Her name fell from his lips in a rush of credence. Lips falling apart at the sight of her before him, what he’d almost done without realising. His wand dropped in a stagger, as though she had struck him. The darkness of the forest enclosing around them.

“You left me there,” he breathed suddenly, as though it hadn’t meant to come out. She blinked up at him as confusion swept her. But the lost look he carried only washed away as his eyes hardened.

“What?” she breathed.

“You left me there alone,” he spoke again, ignited with a sudden rage. His words were like kindling to her own. Her brow cracking with anger.

“No, Theo,” her voice shook, “you left me.” Theo looked to the ground, shaking his head gently in denial. He took a hesitant step forwards, as though to reach for her. But she stepped back, her spine hitting the tree. “Do you know how much I had to go through alone before I got out of there? Because you were too busy running off with Draco, or-”

He closed the distance between them with a blistering intensity.

“Do you know what it’s been like since? Without you?” It came out in a boiling whisper. “He wants your head almost as much as he wants Potter’s,” Theo’s eyes softened at the words, swept up in whatever memory they procured. “And I just have to sit there and take it, listening to the vile things they plan to do to you. Knowing there’s not a single fucking thing I can do about any of it, except for-”

He didn’t have to say it, the break of his voice said enough. The way his eyes fled from her own. He had meant to kill her.

“Why don’t you do it then?” She whispered, eyes brimming with more tears. Looking to the boy she had loved since she was too young to understand the word. “It would save me the-”

“Stop it.”

“I deserve it, don’t I? For leaving you. You said so yourself, in your letter. I read it you know.”

“No, I didn’t mean-”

“I know you’ve cast it before-”

“I said stop,” he bellowed, pressing himself against her in a flash of pent up fury. His body flush against hers as his chest heaved with the weight of his rage. “Even if I wanted to,” he whispered, his lips brushing lightly against her ear, “I can’t.” His hands tightened into fists, “He wants to do it himself.”

He peeled himself away from her, as though every inch of his skin that couldn’t feel hers was the worst form of torture. Drinking in every part of her except for her eyes, which he couldn’t bring himself to meet. She searched his, begging him to pull himself to meet hers.

“Is it that?” She breathed, fearful eyes rounded as she looked up to him. Searching for that thread that had always hung between them. His eyes grew tense as he saw what thoughts lay in hers, “Or is it because-”

“Stop.”

-you love me.

“Don’t,” he snapped, but even the sharp edge of his voice couldn’t distract from the despair swimming in his eyes. “Please,” he breathed, his head dipping towards her neck in defeat, but not daring to brush the skin, “don’t.”

He wanted to hold her, let his fingers trail across her cheeks, brush his thumb over her eyelashes. Just to make sure it was really her. Not some cruel trick made out to test his loyalty. But instead he let his breath fan across the bare skin of her neck. Knowing it was the only way he could allow himself to touch her.

“It was you I asked after,” his confession fell dead against the skin of her neck. He heard the breath she drew as though it was taken from him. Felt himself unravelling being so close to her now, after months of waiting and silence and searching.

Fuck it.

He’d be flayed for it, but everything could be damned. None of it mattered if he could feel her lips on his again. His hands flew to the delicate skin of her cheeks. Palms soaking in the remainder of her tears as his lips met hers. They parted effortlessly for him, welcoming him in as though she had been waiting just as he had. The softness of her lips balancing against his hunger. Her head tilted towards him, completely at his mercy beneath his calloused palms. Just as she should have been all this time.

[littlemelanintales]

Just One More

WARNING: Overstimulation, crying reader, language, fingering

“No, no, no, no!”

There you are, 4 orgasms in and writhing wildly in Bucky’s arms as he continues to rub circles around your clit. You’re trembling with tears streaming down your face while you desperately try to get away from the torturous manipulation of his hands. All he could do was smile as he keeps the cold, heavy metal of his left arm tight around you middle.

He kept pulling you back into his chest when you couldn’t help but buck your hips and gasps for breath, “Bucky… please… no more, I can’t-”. He puts two fingers in your abused opening,

“Yes, you can,” he says sternly, mouth pressed to your ear. The bass in his voice vibrates the wires in your brain. He’s all you crave.

He lets out a deep breath when he slides a third finger into your hole. You were helpless and at his mercy. Your hands are trapped behind your back, between your torsos with a red Christmas ribbon he found. Your legs were trapped between his so when you tried to close them, he just had to spread his wider. There was absolutely nothing you could do to stop him from playing with your sensitive pussy.

“Ohhh, I’m not done yet, Baby. Not yet.” He pulled his fingers out and went back to the same speed on your clit.

“Oh my god, Sir… fuck, please, don’t stop,” you moan loudly, trashing in his grip when the tight coil in your abdomen comes undone. Wave after wave of pleasure crashing through you. You’re full on sobbing in blissful agony before going tractable in his arms. All your body could do was tremble from head to toe when he pressed his nose into your slick neck and finally slips his fingers out of you. He loosens his hold on your torso, allowing your legs to close a bit to give you a well deserved moment. You go to close them more when he cups his hand possessively around your pussy. He’s still not done.

You start to cry again; the combination of the tears and your whining making you sound so pathetic and helpless. He just eats it up.

“Noooo… Bucky, please, no more… stop, I- I can’t… please, no…”

“Shhh. You’re doing so well for me,” he says, pressing his lips against your temple. “What do you say to get me to stop?”

He laid a light tap to your swollen petals, “tell, y/n. Stay with me.”

“Brooklyn,” you said in the faintest whisper.

“Why?”

“It’s where we met…FUCK!”

He doesn’t wait another moment before slipping two fingers back inside your sopping pussy, making you cry out when they graze your ultra sensitive walls.

“James-FUCKKK!,” You drag out as you sit your head up to watch his attack on you,

“You want me to stop? Say it and I’ll stop.” He knew you wouldn’t and he reveled at the fact that he had complete control over you. The fact that he didn’t reprimand you for using his legal name meant that he was having way too much fun in this torture session to even care.

“No! Please don’t stop…” His fingers reached the spot that undoes it all and your eyes roll back as you place your head back on him, completely quiet.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Bucky watches, mesmerized that it’s him who’s making you cum like this.

You whimper in his arms, gulping in large breaths that pass right by his ear from where my head is resting on his shoulder. Your entire body is trembling. Your sweaty skin sliding along his own when you try to wiggle away from his touch.

You stay like that for a moment before he presses another kiss to your temple. By this time, your eyes are closed and you’re starting to come down. Your breathing stables until you feel a heavy, icy sensation start to travel back to your overused cunt.

“You’ve been such a good girl for me. I know you can give me another, Baby.”

seen this before? tumblr deleted my other account so i have to rebuild :/

[zwhoreo]

what would happen if Luffy ans reader have a Big argument ?

ty for the request!! :) this is my angstiest one yet ooo (but I could never have a non-happy ending)

careless scars - luffy x gn!reader

angst (fluffy ending)

summary: luffy recklessly abandons you in a dangerous situation to find and save zoro, and you get injured. your feelings are hurt and your heart is broken, and your ensuing fight with luffy leaves you not speaking for days. until, of course, you find each other again for comfort

contains: distressing emotional situations, reader hits luffy, everyone is sad, but happy/comforting ending <3

words: 2.4k

________________________

The dungeon is dark and Luffy holds you. Only his precarious torch guides you through the midnight catacombs, knee-deep in dark water, you’re terrified and shaking and Luffy’s hand on your waist is the only thing you have right now. He’s tight-lipped and facing straight ahead, you’re wordless, you hope you aren’t lost.

Evading the monsters of the dungeon has taken a lot out of you, mentally and physically, as you and the crew have battled for escape and now it feels like hours since you’ve all been separated, terrified and in a ceaseless search for light. Luffy wouldn’t leave your side, partly because you’ve clung to him this whole time, you had lost your cutlass and twisted your ankle, your shirt is torn, you’re very vulnerable and you need him. You’re not proud of it, usually you’re reliable and independent, usually you’re someone Luffy can count on to do well on your own, even in the worst of times, but today isn’t like that. He can tell by how your nails dig into his shoulders.

Every corner turn feels agonizingly slow, your organs tightening with each knot of anticipation, there can only be death or light or more darkness and the three possibilities war within you with every step. Dust falls from the dungeon ceiling. Stone creaks, how far are you below the sky? Not knowing when you’ll find the exit, or when you’ll find your friends, or if they’ll make it out too, you’re left in a limbo of uncertainty and dread. You’re forced to move slowly because of your ankle, you’ve been trying to walk it off but the unclean saltwater is making the inflammation burn.

A scream echoes through the tunnel in front of you, freezing you and Luffy in place. You know that voice, it’s Zoro, tinny and distorted from the stone and water but so real and so filled with agony and desperation. It’s a call for help.

“ZORO!” Luffy yells back, his heart pounding in his chest, breathing becoming erratic, “please! Where are you??”

But there’s no answer. Luffy turns to you, fear-filled eyes watering, and he places a hand on your shoulder, determination filling his voice.

“Stay here. I need to go help Zoro. I’ll be back for you, [name].” And before you have a chance to react he lets go of your body, your warmth and light leaving you, racing off down the corridor and disappearing.

You trip and fall to your knees without him, soaking you up to your waist. You’re left with nothing and no one and you’re too scared even to scream. You can’t do anything, left weaponless and injured, the water ripples around you and you can’t even move. And you’re forced to wait like this until sound ricochets behind you, an inhuman and ancient sound, the water exploding around you and stone crunching as if it were sand. Writhing, ink-black eels with unseeing eyes and too-symmetrical fangs are bursting from the walls in a tidal wave of suffocation, blood-lust for your fear. You can tell they’re eels from the way they squirm and splash against your body, and the walls cave in and stone tumbles upon you, but it’s only these sensations of pain and cacophonic sound that guide you to your horrible new reality because there’s no light anymore, not at all. Immobile, all you can do is scream and swing wildly with your hands as you’re dragged to the ground, plunged beneath the water that now grows thick with the fallen stone and with your blood.

You’re convinced for a moment that you’ve died, your brain can’t process the warmth and the flood of air to your lungs. Your eyes fly open as you soar from the ground, carried securely as the ceiling overhead shatters, you’re drowned in beautiful, beautiful light and sky at last. You’re laying bridal-style in Sanji’s arms, with one powerful kick he’s freed you both from the dungeon, the island luckily not far above. You look up at him, your head resting against his chest, he’s breathing heavily, staring stoically upwards. It’s all over.

____________________________________

You wake up in Chopper’s office. Your head is ringing and you feel so heavy, and your left leg is numb, and the whole room is blurry. Chopper rushes over to you, hopping up on a stool and resting a hoof on your shoulder.

“[Name]! Oh, I’m so glad you’re awake, how’re you feeling?” he says, smiling down at you.

“Not… ah, I mean, my leg just…”

“Mm. You got a pretty big gash on your lower leg. I've been trying to fight off the infections all night, but you seem to be stabilizing. It’s lucky how fast Sanji was able to find you.” Chopper’s ears twitch a bit with nerves.

“Thank you, Chopper.” You manage a smile for him. “Is everyone else ok? Did we all make it out?”

And so Chopper tells you how yes, everyone’s ok, the whole crew escaped the dungeon and found the ship again. And you and Zoro are the only two who ended up with serious injuries, Zoro with three broken ribs and you with your mauled leg. But you’ll both make full recoveries, so it’s alright. And you’re told that you’ll have to be very careful for at least a week, until the stitches and staples can be safely removed, that’s a long time to limp around the ship and lie in bed but you’re just grateful right now that everything’s all over.

Worried about Zoro and his whereabouts, Chopper leaves you to rest and stare at the ceiling. And that’s when Luffy bursts in, coming over to you and sitting on the bed, looking at you with concern. And you stare back at him, neither of you say anything, until he leans in to give you a hug and starts asking after you.

“Don’t touch me, Luffy.” You look away, your voice is ice.

He freezes. He isn’t used to this from you, he looks betrayed, a bit, and confused, this makes you feel angrier because how can he not see what he did wrong? His eyes narrow and slowly he gets up, and turns, and leaves, and now you’re here alone again.

_______________________________________

You’re sitting alone on the deck. You’re getting air, your leg is raw and in pain and the cool evening air is refreshing against your face. Your hands are folded in your lap, you just want to sit here in silence.

Steps you don’t want to hear, a tap on your shoulder you don’t want to feel, you don’t want Luffy to be here right now and you don’t want to have this conversation but he’s perched next to you, leaning over you. He wants a hug, probably. He misses you.

“Hey, are you mad?” he asks in a small voice, head cocked.

“Yeah,” is all you say.

He just looks at you, biting his lip.

“You left me alone in the tunnel when I was hurt. I could barely walk on my own and I didn’t have a weapon or… or anything!” Hey, no, don’t cry yet, you think to yourself. Your voice is breaking. “I really, really needed you!”

Luffy sort of curls away from you, his fists are balled tightly. “I had to help Zoro! He was in trouble! I don’t know what you wanted me to do, [name]!”

“Really? Really you don’t know?” You’re so upset and sad, you stand up to get away from him, stumbling on your burning leg, defiant. “You could’ve carried me! You could’ve put me on your back! You could at least have found somewhere dry and safe for me to hide, you could have given me a light, I don’t know, Luffy! You could have done so many things…” You’re really, truly near tears now. “I was hurt, I was defenseless, I was scared, I thought you knew all that…”

“Zoro needed my help.” Luffy is scary when he’s mad, it’s awful when he’s mad at you, when his voice gets authoritative. “I’m not sure what to say, [name], I was going to come back for you-”

“But you didn’t! Sanji saved me. I could’ve died, Luffy!”

He makes this little angry whine in his throat and then says, “I just needed to rely on you! I had to help Zoro!”

Which makes you snap. “Stop saying that!” you shout, “I was hurt and scared and I couldn’t fight!” And out of rage and cloudy pain you scream, “WHY AREN’T YOU LISTENING TO ME??” and strike Luffy across the face.

You expect this not to hurt him. It shouldn’t, not with his rubber body, it’s more a display of your deep anguish and frustration, but he cries out in pain and clutches his face. He begins to cry. Your heart is crushed into sand.

But you can’t do this anymore and you just limp away.

_______________________________________

These two days are so long. They’re so, so long, longer than two years. Your leg flares up in horrible, unending pain and your heart wails to you but you can’t do anything. You’re so angry. You and Luffy aren’t speaking, he avoids you, he looks away stoically when you’re close by. This has never happened to you, you miss that loving, sweet boy attached to you like a koala, you miss getting kissed, you miss everything. But neither of you know what to say. You’re both sad and torn up inside, Luffy just feels so confused and frustrated all the time now, shutting down completely.

Everyone else knows what happened. Zoro feels really terrible but he doesn’t say anything to either of you, he just retreats, cursing to himself over his own weakness, blaming himself and his vulnerability in that dungeon for hurting two of his best friends. Even with his broken ribs he trains and trains and reopens his wounds. And nobody knows how to help any of you. Not even Chopper, his pleading eyes begging Zoro to stay in bed, words stuck in his throat as he rebandages your wound, wiping blood away with shaking hooves.

But finally in the deep light of one sunset, at the end of those two days, you’re making your way slowly off of the deck when you hear your name screamed from behind.

You turn your head and Luffy scoops you up and slams you against the mast, he’s crying and shaking and holding you tightly in his arms.

“Please, please, I can’t do this anymore! I don’t wanna be mad at you, I don’t! I hate this!” he shouts in your face, voice loud and wavering.

You don’t know what to do but this feeling enveloping your body is incredible, so warm, your soul craved this in spite of it all.

“I’m so sorry, I feel so bad, I didn’t mean to get ya hurt, [name]! Oh, god…” He sinks down the mast onto the deck with you in his arms. “I don’t wanna forgive myself. I shoulda carried you, but I didn’t wanna put you in danger ‘cause I didn’t know where Zoro was, I really thought it was gonna be ok, and I was gonna come back for you, I really was!”

“Luffy… it’s ok, I’m sorry…” You wrap your arms gently around his body, your own tears coming now. “I just wanna forget all this, I hate when we’re mad at each other… I love you.”

“Mm- I love you too!” Luffy grins, eyes closed, face wet. “I just wanna keep you safe, that’s all I want.”

“It’s hard sometimes,” you whisper, “you love us so much, I know it’s hard, I know you get scared too.”

“I do get scared,” he murmurs, nuzzling into your shoulder, leaving tear streaks on your neck. “I just wanna make it all better…”

You’re smiling now. This is such a relief, such a weight off your heart, so you carefully lift his hat so you can ruffle his hair. “This is a good start.”

His hand goes to your leg, caressing timidly up and down your skin, his face is against yours but he’s looking down at your bandages, eyes scared and concerned.

“Ooh, [name], Chopper was teaching me how to make scar tissue stronger!” He taps the center of his torn chest. “You use two fingers and uh, like, make these little circles on ‘em, maybe I can do it on your wound and you can feel better?” He’s staring at you excitedly.

His kindness makes your chest feel warm. “You’re sweet, Lu, but it’s not a scar yet. You shouldn’t touch wounds when they’re fresh. I’d like that when it’s healed up, though…”

“Oh.” He’s a little disappointed, but understanding, and now he’s going back to thinking more, nibbling your shoulder a bit to get his mind working. “Sometimes when I’m hurt, Robin gives me massages. They feel real nice, do you want one?”

This sounds so good and you snuggle against him with the promise of such a perfect gift. “I’d really like that, actually. Maybe on my thigh? It’s pretty sore from all the limping.”

So Luffy leans into you in joy and relief, turning you around and pulling you into his lap, you turn your head to look up at him and everything seems to be ok now. You lay on his chest and his hands find your thigh on your hurt leg, he’s clumsy and doesn’t know what he’s doing but you feel him shivering in concentration, kneading your sore muscle with his fingers, and then with his palms, his skin smooth and calming against yours. He’s breathing softly in your ear, you close your eyes and let yourself be bathed in his touch, in his unwavering love for you.

Maybe you’ll need to have a real conversation about this with him, later. But now all you want to do is sit here against him, his weight shifting against you as he rubs your skin and hums quietly under his breath to soothe both of you.

“I love you,” you say again, very quietly, “and I’m gonna love you forever.”

He nods. He knows this well. His nose presses against your cheek, lips seeking yours, wanting to taste your words. And he echoes, “me too. Forever.”

[constellations66]

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” she asked, genuine curiosity in her eyes as he craned his neck to look at her for a moment. She was a few feet behind him, attempting to stabilize herself on the ice, but failing to do so as she wobbled back and forth.

“What?” He grumbled, he knew what she said, but he was confused by her question.

“I saaaid, do you believe in love at first sight?” she asked again.

“Why are you asking me this?”

“Because I need to know if I should walk by again.” She said simply, a shit-eating grin spreading across her face as she attempted to keep her composure.

Not this shit again. He sighed to himself. He chose to ignore her cheesy line and picked up his pace slightly, their destination was now in sight as the wooden shack was going to be their safe zone for the night.

“Oh, come on, big cat,” she laughed to herself, using her chosen pet name for him that he asked her time and time again to not use, but she was fucking stubborn. It’s a code name. She’d argued. I already have one. He’d argue back. Yeah, but this one’s special because it’s from me. “You know, you should try meditating, it might help with getting that stick out of your ass.” “Or even better, you should get a massage, y’know, I know this really good place down the street from my apartment that does special massages, if you know what I mean, and I highly recommend it.” She smirked to herself, continuing to ramble on. Once again he chose to ignore her. His focus was set on getting to the safe house and getting the fuck home. She kept talking, and his body was on autopilot, giving a quick nod or a hum every few sentences as an acknowledgment of her talking.

The screech of her voice calling his name, Simon, was the last thing he heard before he watched her head disappear under the frozen lake.

“No, no, no, fuck,” he cursed to himself as he watched her struggle to keep her head above the freezing water. He acted as quickly as he possibly could, but carefully enough to not break the ice again. He fell onto his front and army crawled his way towards her panicking form, the position offered little help in attempting to lift her out but would help keep his weight distributed. Her eyes were wide with panic, her lips now turning blue and the skin on her face was bright red from the bite of the water. He finally reached her, quickly grabbing onto her arms to pull them over the edge of the ice so she was able to keep her head above the water as he attempted to get her out the rest of the way. She shivered uncontrollably, unable to say anything due to the shock of the water temperature as she looked at him with pleading eyes.

“I got you, don’t worry.” He reassured as he grabbed onto her gear and used it as leverage to pull her up and out. He carefully dragged her across the ice, getting a safe distance away before standing up and pulling her up with him. She struggled to stand on her own, gripping tightly onto his sleeve and digging her nails in for support. He turned his back to her and helped her climb up, securing her legs on his hips and wrapping her arms around his shoulders and neck. He kept one hand gripped on her thigh to keep her from slipping down, and the other held her hands together in front of his face for extra support.

Her body had stopped shivering at this point, which only made him panic as he knew her body was falling into a state of hypothermia. He could feel her ragged breathing against his neck as she attempted to cling to him for warmth but found it impossible in her soaking-wet clothes. The rest of the walk to the safe house felt like agony, for both. He kicked the door the second they approached it and was met with an empty room with a small fireplace in the corner. He gently slid her down his back and onto the floor before the soon-to-be fire. He worked quickly in pulling out his gear and knew exactly where he’d kept his fire starter. She whimpered quietly next to him, mumbling a few words out, cold, cold, Simon, cold. The fire was soon ablaze, and he let out a deep sigh of relief. His next step was getting her warm, and he knew the quickest way to do it.

He turned to her next, beginning to take off her gear one by one, her mask came first as the hat she once wore was long gone under the depths of the icy cold water. He pulled her backpack off her back and next came to her gear which he expertly tore off, throwing it to the side as he unzipped her coat with his free hand. He shimmied it off her shoulders and forced her to raise her arms as he gripped the bottom of her long sleeve shirt and tore it over her head. His arms circled around her form as he reached behind her and undid the clasp of her bra. She attempted to nuzzle into his embrace and was able to absorb a sliver of his heat for a split second before he retreated and began undoing her belt; she whimpered at the loss of contact. Her boots and socks came first as he chucked him aside with a loud thud against the wall and gripped the bottom of her tactical pants and yanked them down. He continued to work quickly and as respectfully as he could; he made quick eye contact with her before gripping onto the pair of boxers she was wearing and pulling them off. Her skin was red, and splotchy and felt like ice to the touch. He turned back to his gear and pulled out the emergency blanket that was folded neatly in the corner of his bag and threw it over her, tucking it underneath herself.

Now it was his turn to undress. He stood tall over her, quickly removing his skull mask, but leaving on his balaclava. He undressed similarly to how he did her but left on his boxers and socks. The heat from the fire burnt hot against his chest, but it was the opposite for his back, and it was exposed to the icy cold emptiness of the safe house. He positioned himself beside her on the ground, pulling up one side of the blanket, and scootched himself close to her. She immediately reacted, turning to face him as she gripped tightly onto him, her arms wrapping around his bare torso and shoving her face into his chest. He cringed at how cold her skin felt against his, gently rubbing up and down her arms to transfer his body heat to hers the best he could. Her nails drug across his skin as she attempted to pull him closer, her legs entangling themselves with his as she shivered beside him.

This went on for several minutes, her body slowly coming back up to temperature and her mind beginning to make sense of the situation. The adrenaline slowly wore off the longer she gripped onto him, her awareness of how close and how naked they had hit her like a truck and caused her cheeks to heat up. She knew he was a big guy, hence the nickname big cat. But seeing him exposed without his gear on only made her realize how much bigger he was. His shoulders were broad, and his skin was speckled in freckles, scars, and tattoos here and there. His arms were even bigger than she had imagined, his biceps were practically the size of her head, and his torso was strong, muscular, and built to withstand anything that came at him. The fire roared behind her as she admired his face through the balaclava, it wasn’t much different without the skull mask but allowed her to see a hint more of the shape of his features. His nose was sharp, and his chin jutted out perfectly. She could just barely make out the shape of his lips and smirked to herself as she admired them.

His eyes were closed and had been closed for most of the time they lay there, but he didn’t fall asleep, he couldn’t. He felt her shift slightly in his grip and he peaked one eye open and was met with her gaze. A shit-eating grin spread across her face. He knew what was coming.

“Aye, Lt,” she spoke, breaking the illusion of peacefulness he thought he had, “if you wanted to get me naked all you had to do was ask.”