#never thought I would have followers at all tbh..

[kashedelic]

A HAT OF HEARTH - trafalgar d. law x f!reader

SUMMARY: Sometimes if you look closer (to a certain hat), you’ll find that Law loves in ways you didn’t expect.

NOTES: law x reader, second pov, established relationship, fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, some possessiveness if you squint, law being lovey dovey, i just need law fluff tbh.

wc: 900

a/n: this is the first fic im uploading and I can’t say that i’m disappointed. currently working on some more fics and i’m hoping to get those out soon, but I cant exactly say when because i NEED those ones to be a little bit more detailed than a silly little drabble like this. and yes, those include the reqs! anyways, I need a law in my life frl.

Be sure to like, reblog, or even follow! Your support means everything to me and helps more people to find this story! Thank you for reading!

The hat was an emblem that Trafalgar D. Law, the Surgeon of Death, was capable of loving. Sure, the man was never too forward with how he showed love, but who said love had to be overt? Could it not manifest in quieter forms? What was wrong with loving in silence? Was it such a sin to care, to praise, to cherish quietly before daring to be bold? “We’re headed into a colder climate, wear this.” The clipped, brusque command might make anyone else think he was chastising a petulant child or begrudgingly tending to a nuisance. Yet, with the way his eyes flickered over your face for a moment longer than necessary, and the subtle brush of his fingers against the side of your head, the truth was far from that assumption.

Law was a doctor, after all - one fully capable of nursing you back to good health, but just the mere thought of seeing you feverish, voice weak and body frail, made his chest tighten with unease.

Even if your falling ill meant more one-on-one time together, he’d never risk it. He would rather see you well than selfishly enjoy your dependance on him. However, in the scenario that sickness did strike, Law would be readily beside you, caring for you every step of the way.

Law cared.

“Take care of it for me, will ya?” He hastily flopped the hat on your head, slightly askew, its brim tilted awkwardly. Your fingers instinctively reached up to adjust it, bewilderment etched into your features. Law, who rarely ever parted with his signature hat, had entrusted it to you. There was a small pause, a moment of lingerment, before he adjusted his grip on Kikoku and dashed back into the fray.

You watched as the blade caught and reflected light, clashing against a formidable enemy. The hat sat heavy on your head, a reminder of its significance. You didn’t know too much about the hat’s origin, but you know one thing: Law didn’t part with it lightly. 

The thought of joining the battle crossed your mind - you were perfectly capable to - but something about the weight of the hat felt grounding, as though it was urging you to stay. Something in your gut told you that it wasn’t just a token of trust; it was a silent request to hold down the Polar Tang, to handle any threats to the ship. In that moment, you weren’t merely entrusted with just the hat, but you were entrusted with Law’s entire livelihood. That alone made it more symbolic. It was a quiet testament to how Law trusts.

“Need to cover yourself more,” he muttered, tugging the brim down until it shaded your face. It was definitely larger on your head than on his and if his expression hadn’t been so grumpy, you would have joked about his supposedly “mega-sized head.” The hat swallowed you whole, but he would rather it that way. In fact, if it were really up to him, it would come with a veil to shield you from every prying eye. 

Law didn’t care - he wanted to protect. Law often thought the world didn’t deserve you. Hell, he wasn’t even sure he deserved you. In his eyes, your smile put the sun to shame, and all your curves and edges made him think that there’s another place that he wants - no, needs - to explore. Though again, he won’t admit that to you and he reluctantly agreed with himself to put those thoughts aside and instead focused on the desire to shield you.

He knew you were pretty, too pretty for his liking - at least when it came to the crooked world around him. The thought of anyone else noticing, of anyone else having thoughts about you, grated on his nerves. He hated the way men stared when you dressed up, hated the way his chest tightened and his breath caught when you twirled in new clothes, showing them off to Bepo. “They've got beady little bird-brain eyes,” he’d grumble under his breath, his hand tightening around Kikoku’s hilt whenever anyone started a second too long. Still, even as he kept his guard up, the hat stayed on your head. A silent declaration, a mark of who you belonged to. 

Law protected.

“Didn’t know I got us a clown on the Tang,” he chuckled, placing the hat on your head once again - this time even more lopsided and deliberately so. He turned away, and leaned his back against the ship’s railing, one leg crossed over the other. Taut muscles flexed as his elbows lazily rested against the bar, his chest tattoos peaking through the wifebeater he donned. Law lets you humor him as he humors you back by sloppily placing the hat on your face. You scowled at his teasing, but Law snickered at your ruffled appearance, finding you endereaning despite the exaggerated frown on your lips. 

Law humored.

The hat rests carefully in your hands, the fluffy material caressed between your digits. You hadn’t meant to look into the hat so much, but now, as he silently slipped the hat onto your lap  before heading off to shower instead of placing it on a shelf like usual, you couldn’t help but reminisce on all the fond memories associated with the hat.

You noted that this hat would not only bring heat to your head, but to your heart too, because Law loved.

Please don’t repost, translate, or redistribute my work without permission. Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated. All rights to One Piece and its characters belong to Eiichiro Oda and respective copyright holders. © kashedelic 2024

[manic-sapphic]

nope this isn't me talking about save the cat again~

and no, ofc it totally doesn't center around adora choosing to jump after catra... again. and yes, i am lying. lotsa lies with lotsa love <3

-- promise just renewed - of course adora's gonna jump after catra. whether you think she did or didn't break the promise the first time doesn't matter, the point is, she's not breaking this one. decided, confirmed. --

adora's finally fully seen just how much their promise had meant to catra - and her heart's been ripped open the entire time she's been forced to fight her - since the moment she sees catra and hears that hello. her mind's gotta be flooding with so many damn emotions that had either been repressed or she'd simply been conditioned not to recognize or consider relevant enough to acknowledge - which i would imagine, especially w her past trauma, had her feeling an insane amount of mental distress, since so much of what she was feeling, she couldn't hope to really identify or even describe. so, she probably doesn't quite entirely understand or even realize it - but suddenly, she's fully feeling just how much their promise had always meant to her, too.

it definitely seems to be what's determining every damn decision adora makes, even before she's there on prime's ship. before she's even seen catra. that promise lit up blinding bright in her brain during that comm's call w catra- she couldn't ignore it. she "can't just leave her there." but really, she just didn't want to. if i was tryna explain it to adora herself in terms i thought might help her get it, it'd go somethin like -

"know it or not, this was a moment where what you care about, arm-wrestled what you're supposed to care about, and broke that bitch's wrist, ok"

alright now my patented sorta-silly/serious whiplash, sorry --

-- forcefully pitted against each other, after it being so long since the two of them last fought - and with catra now basically a puppet on a string, carelessly subjected to all kinds of injury and pain, and never showing even the slightest response to it on her face - everything she's seeing and experiencing gives adora a horrifying display of what prime had done to catra and how much she must have gone through for him to have been able to warp, flatten, and take control of her like that - and all because of something she chose to do for her. (which tbh could be phrased in a similar way to adora's "i can't just leave her there" with "i can't just let her come here")

yeah. it's like throughout it all, the promise once again became the everything to adora she'd forgotten it always was.

so of course she follows after catra into the shadows.

she can't and won't just leave catra alone in the dark.

[psycheetamore]

Punish me (part 1 of 2) – learning how to succumb to Feyd-Rautha’s process of redemption

Summary: you, a young Fremen woman, have not adhered to tradition. As punishment, your tribe sends you off to seek penance with Arrakis governor Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. Since his rulership started, he has been all too happy to take the role to help redeem Fremen, as it has allowed him to create a symbiosis with the local population (and also sooth his own urges). Not really knowing what to expect, but having heard some stories relayed, you decide to follow through, in the hope of being accepted by your tribe again. But the process of redemption does not go as anticipated, not being kept as a mere slave for manual work. The na-Baron has taken interest in you, and decides to see how far he can push you, break you and rebuild you to his own corrupted liking through manipulation and deprivation. Split in 2 chapters as it got too long.

Notes: I was listening to my favourite song Bestrafe Mich from Rammstein on repeat, and thought to myself ‘I need to write this story’. The content was inspired by the ‘transformative process’ of Winston Smith of 1984, the will to live from Jigsaw and the lyrics of Kerosine (please treat this as a tag/trigger warning).

Tags for this chapter – additional tags in chapter 2: MDNI, Feyd-Rautha is his own trigger warning, manipulative Feyd, talkative Feyd, dominant Feyd, physically imposing Feyd, humiliating Feyd, oral demanding Feyd (as a tool of near-daily conditioning), nutritious black cum giving/weaponizing cum Feyd, food depriving Feyd, attention depriving Feyd, drugging Feyd, dubcon/noncon Feyd, no beta we die like duke leto. The author may actually start to have regrets looking at the tags (and the tags will get worse in the 2nd chapter)– I trust I do not need to add ‘dead dove don’t eat’ with all these tags. Tbh, this is absolute fey foul filth no-one should read

Word count: 5.3k

+++

You were disposed off at the steps to the palace of Carthag, used by Harkonnen rulership. You had two options: go back to the desert, where you would need to fend for yourself for the rest of your short life, or redeem yourself by entering this building where he ruled.

Your stubbornness had brought you here. Consequences not unknown, and willingly accepted, you had decided not to slay your fellow Fremen warrior after an altercation. Tradition dictated you should have. It was a way to plenish the subterrain water storages to make Arrakis green one day. By not fulfilling your task, you robbed your people from their future. You opened the door to unnecessary fights taunting hierarchy and tradition. You forced a fellow fighter to a life in shame rather than to die in honour. Still, at this moment you did not feel regret. Not yet.

Confident you made the right decision, you needed to follow through on the aftermath and went in. How bad could it be, what the imposed governor of this planet had to offer you? Already familiar and comfortable with hardship, the worst he could do was put you at work as a slave. Work in the spice refinement factories. You have heard stories of other Fremen having undergone his treatment, coming back salvaged and redeemed. They were not taken care of that badly, with regular food, shelter and even good access to water for Fremen standards. You knew not everybody returned, some choosing to stay in the employ of the na-Baron.

Your life would never be the same again.

Stepping into the fort, you were immediately surrounded by guards. It was still not an event that occurred every day: a Fremen partisan walking into the lion’s den.

After you were frisked and deprived from your weapons, you followed their path into the belly of the building: the throne room.

In this spacious room, filled with stone materials and beige colours, sitting at the top of imposing stairs leading to a throne, the na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen governed over Arrakis.

As you were pushed down with a sudden blow against the back of your knees, falling on all fours, he purred: “what brings you here, young woman?”

A deep, smoky voice. You hardly had a chance to look at him, as your head was pushed down by a guard shouting at you to avert your eyes. A voice, resonating from deep within what sounded like a powerful body, that was your first impression of him.

You gulped, followed by a blow against your shoulder from the guard for not answering quickly enough.

“Sir, I am here to repent” you answered.

Another blow on your ribs followed. “You will address the na-Baron with his correct title” the guard screamed at you.

“You are here to repent? Why?” he asked.

“I failed to follow traditions. I did not kill when required.” You reach for breath, long enough to justify a kick against your ribs. “Lord na-Baron” was what hastily left your voice.

“Hmm. Ancient, outdated traditions. But girl, if you need to kill, you need to kill” he said smoothly. He clearly enjoyed himself. “Do you want to be here?”

“Yes sir. Lord na-Baron” your answer replied, being somewhat startled by the question.

“I will offer you one chance to leave before your repentance commences. I will allow you to leave, now, with the clothes on your back and one day worth of water. You will receive your weapons and I will not hunt you down. Not before the day ends in any case. But you only get this offer now. Now, and, after your penance ends, if you survive.”

You briefly looked up, to see a pale smiling man with a tilted head. He was observing you. Looking at your reactions. Trying to read you. Trying to understand you.

“You see. You are not the first, nor the last being sent here to atone. You would not be the first to leave, nor the last, within minutes after having set foot in my house. However, you can only achieve forgiveness from your tribe through me. I am willing to offer this, which is reserved for the strongest.”

Perhaps ten seconds past. Ten long seconds. Ten long seconds during which you were gazing into his eyes, as he was gazing into yours. Mesmerised. Something in the whole situation, in addition to your choice to seek forgiveness, triggered a masochistic interest in you.

The smile slowly left his face, as sternness entered. “I did not allow you to look up. Guard.” This invited the guard to place his knee on your back, put all his weight on your frame, causing you to fall on your belly, barely allowing you to prevent your face from hitting the stone floor.

“I see you have made your decision. Guards” he instructed, as he waived his hand to have you taken away.

Another guard joined. With both of them clamping an arm under your armpit you were dragged away.

You did not know it yet, but this was the last time in a period of three standard-months that you would see any other living person than Feyd-Rautha.

+++

As if going through a light-barren maze, you finally reached your destination. Being carried through several adjacent rooms which were fitted out opulently, with carvings of the sacred worms on the walls, you were thrown into one of the few rooms that neighboured what appeared to be a place for night rest. The click of the lock was your cue to stand up and start exploring. Even if you had submitted yourself to servitude, you would not end up a reactive victim.

Getting up on your feet, you explored your new home. It was decorated scarcely, with a small bed, a table and a chair, and an adjacent small bathroom holding only a pit to the ground covered by a box with an opening, a pipe through which sand could be taken for cleaning purposes and a pile of rags. In total perhaps 15 or 20 square meters. There was one small window, looking out on training grounds.

The table held a few bits of food, in the form of dried meats and fruits, and a small container of water. As if your presence was expected.

Hours passed.

The night fell.

You could not catch sleep, the uncertainty being unnerving.

While the moons were at their highest peak, you decided to look outside. Think about you comrades and how they were doing. Whether they were gazing at the same stars as you.

Movement caught your eye. Several stories below you, you heard fighting. It appeared to be the na-Baron in close combat with another person, but you could only ever so often catch a glimpse of your host. After the young lord was worked to the ground, it appeared the other person extended their hand to help him up. A training, not a fight. They continued till dawn.

+++

As the star had hit its highest point, you were still to encounter any other person. You had succumbed to hunger and eaten half of what was provided.

+++

Before dusk you had submitted to sleep. Still unclear on what was to come, but no longer able to fight your fatigue.

+++

In the middle of the night, you woke up. Strange sounds were coming through the door. Panting. Gasping. Growling. Flesh hitting flesh. Signs of copulation. Screeches of pain. The sounds of hands and whips forcefully hitting bodily mass.

Suddenly you heard someone plead. A woman. Begging for mercy. Naming the person for whom the supplication was attended, the na-Baron.  A simple answer followed: “no”, spoken by him, “you have lost the right for redemption”. Succeeded by a blunt sound, as if a body hit the ground.

A few minutes later a door opened, and something entered the room next to yours. He spoke: “fresh meat my darlings.”

For what seemed an eternity sloppy sounds and animalistic growls creeped through the door to hit your ears. However, you tried to block the sounds of what appeared to be feasting, you failed.

It had you frozen in your bed, not making any sound or any movement, until hours had gone by in silence and you felt safe enough to get up.

That night you decided you would do everything to live. The gruelling end that you had heard taking place would not befall you.

+++

Another day passed, food and water depleted, physical drain setting in.

The evening started to set in, as the lock turned. Your visitor would find you in the comfort of your bed, where you had laid your tired body, not being quick enough to get up on your feet.

It was the owner of this very building that came in, carrying a basket and a second chair. Solemnly he walked to the table, where he placed the basket, as you sat hurdled up, protecting your legs with your arms, making yourself small. The chair was put near the other chair, at an angle of 90 degrees.

“Come here” he said, as he started to remove the items from the basket. He did not make any attempts to close the door.

Recalling how tardiness was treated just a few days earlier, bruises on your body being proof of that, you stood up immediately and approached with cautious steps. On the table food was displayed, plates, cups to hold drinks, cutlery. He drew one of the chairs out, to invite you to take a seat.

As he pushed you seated towards the table, he settled himself as well, and started to divide the food over the two plates between both of you.

“Do you know why you are sent here?” he asked.

You looked at him, as he pushed one of the plates towards you. “Eat”. Your eyes scanned him quickly, followed by your hand moving to gather some much-needed replenishment. “After you answer my question” he said with a smirk.

Itching with hunger, you quickly explained what had happened. Your answer ended with: “it could never be as bad as living with knowing I robbed children from their parent over an irrelevant discussion that got out of hand.”

He chuckled and nodded towards the plate, allowing you to dig in.

“I will explain why I am here, now, in this very room, Fremen women. It is all about symbiosis.”

You looked up at him, questioningly, while continuing to chew.

“Symbiosis. A cooperative relationship between me and the Fremen. I do not know whether it existed when my brother was still here. If I were Fremen, I would in any case not trust him enough for it” he grinned. “I also don’t know whether it existed before him, or when the Richese were in charge. When I was holding court, on an ordinary day, the first Fremen was sent to me. I first thought it was a trap. But as I continued to torture him, I started to be convinced it was true. It makes sense, for the superstitious people you are. I had thought about it, and decided to honour the request. It is an easy task for me, and ever since, the raids on my spice production have gone down. We have reached an equilibrium.”

“Sir…”

His face started to display his menacing side.

“Lord Harkonnen…”

“Better.”

“My lord Harkonnen, if I may ask? What happened to the man?”

“Aah. Muriz. I will never forget his name” he said, his pupils dilating as he stared in the distance.

With energy starting to fuel your blood and limbs, you started to have room to be more observant. The man in front of you was wearing clothing made of a thin, flowy and black fabric, covering his entire body. A wide shirt that was tucked into high wasted trousers, that seemed to be tied together by a broad belt of the same material also holding two daggers. The broadness of his shoulders and the narrowness of his waist were accentuated. Through the tailoring of the shirt, that was tied together at the waist with hidden buttons, it gave the impression that he was even broader than he was. He had left his shirt partially unbuttoned, showing the harsh curves from his sculpted body. You had heard the stories before. What a brute his brother was, how sophisticated the man in front of you was. In intellect, in political acumen, and also in his physical state. The legs of the pants were wide, while consisting of overlaying parts - they could be mistaken for a skirt. His feet were adorned with simple indoor-shoes.

This was an outfit to relax in, despite the weapons, while still presenting himself in a thought-through manner. Quite an attractive manner, showcasing him in all his manliness, you thought. As your eyes glanced over his body, you could not help but think what he was hiding under his robes. How he looked when not covered. Whether his entire body was so pale. Whether his body was as stern and deliberate as he was in words. What you would find. Thoughts quite foreign to you. Perhaps the result on the sudden influx of fuel.

“Muriz. He was a strong man. I subjected him to quite something. I thought about what to do with him. Destroy him for pleasure, keep him for entertainment – he turned out to be a funny guy, or send him back. I decided to do the latter. I felt he had redeemed himself for the crimes he had committed. Well, in my eyes again not crimes, but silly altercations. You people know no fun. You are way too sacred about life. I allowed him to strengthen in our sickbay before sending him off. Clearly did the right thing, because ever since I have had a steady flow of guests.”

He chuckled as he thought about Muriz. Fear wrapped your mind as you started to understand the gravity of the situation. You tried to shift your focus from the thoughts that were crossing through your head: “I have never heard of Muriz. He must have been of another sietch.” His eyes flared up, easily triggered to be filled with anger. “My lord Harkonnen.”

“That is right. You will address me always with my title.” He chuckled again. “Unless I am fucking you. In such case you may also address me by my given name.”

These words got you startled. The abruptness of this comment, understated it was, yet if felt like he was inside your brain. You were still swallowing food when that happened, causing you to breath some into your lunges. A simple cough was not enough to get it out of you, but you did not want to let yourself go in front of this man. With airflow being restricted, you quickly stood up while glancing up to him with a guilty look on your eyes, and retreated to the bathroom. There you started to cough violently. But it didn’t come out. You fell to your hands and knees, as your back arched more relentlessly.

Steady arms grabbed around your midriff, easily picking you up from the floor and drawing your back against his chest while digging their way into your belly with repeated force. A few tugs were needed to have your body expel the food that would have allowed you a fairly pain-free way out of the ordeal that was to come. You would not be given such exit. You needed to deserve redemption.

Gasping for breath, he did not leave you to fall back on the ground. He supported you. Continued to hold you against him. You felt the hardness of his chest, the hardness of his abdomen, the hardness of his groin. Once that awareness hit you, you turned around and tried to get away from him. Pushing against his front, trying to find enough room to push your knee in between the both of you, but he was not having that. As if he did not register your efforts, he spoke: “such a greedy little girl. Hmm, what else would you be greedy for? What else would you be able to choke on?” he said, as he pushed hairs that covered your face to be fitted behind your ears.

A menacing look was on his face. He tilted his face and uncovered the true blackness of his teeth through a wide smile. You wanted to get away, but every time you pushed, you somehow managed to touch his warm skin, with his manhood being pushed against you harder and harder. Your breathing increased, as you wanted to avert his gaze. It was mesmerizing. One of his hands found its way towards your neck, forcing you to present it for him feast on.

For a moment the thought of compliance fell over you.

But you could not. Not with him, not here.

He must have felt your internal battle, as he picked you up with one arm and placed you on the counter in this little bathroom. His hips forcing their way in between your legs, he did what he was set to do; feast on your neck. As he lapsed his tongue, he growled: “I can taste your fear.” A moan followed. “It is precious.” He licked all across your neck, forcing you to succumb to hidden desires that had found their way up and throw your head back, exposing yourself in all your vulnerability. “You are reacting well. Better than I had anticipated. Better than the others. I had planned to take more time with these first steps. But you are adopting so good, we might as well speed up.”

“No, please” you pleaded, “don’t”, as his words had snapped you out of your debilitation.

His hand found your neck, pressing with intense strength. “What… did… I… tell… you?” he spoke, extremely slow.

Gasping for air you spit out: “lord, lord Harkonnen.”

“How much punishment and threats do you need to learn such a simple thing?” he huffed in your ear. “It seems your body responds better to what I require than your brain. Let’s see whether your mouth is more part of your body or your brain” as he let you go and took a step back.

“On your knees” his smoky voice said.

It was an order. Not a request, not a proposal. Knowing you should not keep him waiting, you anxiously got of the counter and took the position required. You did not dare to look up.

“Do I need to explain every step to you? I thought you were smarter than this” he said, with discontent in his voice. As if he meant it. As if he was genuinely disappointed. 

Before you had looked up high enough to see his eyes, yours were caught staring straight at his length. Within seconds he had uncovered himself, allowing it to spring free in all its awe. You would not have much time to gasp at its unprecedented size, its terrifying girth or its pearl colour, as he had used the opening you had involuntarily created between your lips to be able to gasp to push himself in.

You tried to temper his speed and depth by pushing against his groin, which only enticed him to go deeper.

“I will show you how you can find hidden treasures of liquid inside yourself” he moaned, as he thrashed himself repeatedly in your mouth, finding the depths of your throat. “A valuable lesson for a Fremen.”

Saliva came rising up from your throat. You wanted to swallow it, but were prevented by his cock. The same cock that was preventing you from breathing.

Just in time to save you from passing out, he removed himself sufficiently for you to recuperate.

Never did he leave you entirely though. Through the entire ordeal he filled your mouth.

“You see how much your body wants me? Wet, your mouth is so wet. I will show you another place that is wet”, as he removed himself for the first time. He kneeled in front of you, pushed his hand into your pants, into your underwear and digged straight into you. A pang of pain shot through you, causing you to release a scream.

His fingers did not leave you though, as they started to twirl around: “so wet, yet so tight. I believe I am the first to explore you. But you see, your body adapts so quickly, it is such a good student” as he finally removed his fingers with a curl. He knew what he was doing. He knew the placed he would touch inside your walls with that small little motion. He knew he was alternating pain with pleasure.

He played with the viscous liquid between his fingers in front of your eyes. “Do you see this? Your pussy is filled with it. It is preparing to have me. It wants to have me. It wants to have my cock, my sperm, my offspring. Isn’t it beautiful?”

You closed your eyes, but he was not having that. Feyd-Rautha slapped you in the face as he ordered: “answer me when I am talking to you.”

With big terrified eyes you responded: “yes, lord Harkonnen.”

“Good” as he stood up and presented himself again. “Where were we?”

Fearful of his response, you opened your mouth again to welcome this powerful man. He grabbed the back of your head and started to thrust again.

Before long he had found depths in your throat so deep that you could not even choke.

But he would not give you the grace of coming in the back of your throat. No, this man withdrew, keeping just the tip of his cock in your mouth, as he came. Every drop spilled on your tongue, filling you with his precious black liquid.

You looked up and just knew spitting it out would be a death sentence. It would have already be reason for significant backlash in your sietch, spilling liquids, but this man would be insulted to his deepest core.

So you swallowed this gift. Together with all the saliva you had produced. Liquid, even some calories and vitamins. Nothing went to waste. He did not require you to share, he benevolently gave you everything.

As he held your head in his hands, he looked down on you and seemed pleased: “I will reward your progress with lessons. Should you ever leave the warmth of my embrace, you will go back a more mature and studied person.”

He helped you to your feet and guided you back to your room.

After you joined him at the table, you wanted to take a sip from the cup in front of you. “No” he said with a dark voice. “You will taste me for the hours to come. You will learn to love it, if you don’t already do. To crave it. One of the lessons I will teach that will aid your survival.”

You could not help but wonder what the benefit was of learning something like that. How this would make you into a more mature person. How this would make you fit into your Fremen society better. But you knew better than to waste precious liquids.

“Now, eat. Replenish. You do not know when the next meal will come” he chuckled.

As you continued eating, scared for any sudden eruptions, you listened to what he had to say.

“It is all about symbiosis as I said. It helps to create stability on this planet. You wanted to salvage the parent, the children. How do you believe they now feel?”

Having switched to tiny bits of food, it was easy to swallow what was left and answer: “my lord, I would believe they feel relief. Relief that they are still together. That the children can be taken care of.”

“Hmm. How do you think your fellow warriors look upon them?”

“Lord Harkonnen, I would believe they would have otherwise pitied them. In absence of which they would feel they have gotten out with a lot of luck.”

“Considering that argumentation, why are you not hailed in by the Fremen as a benevolent saviour, but rather thrown at my mercy?”

“My lord…” you now understood what you had done, your heart dropping to your feet, all pangs of hunger suddenly disappearing. You dropped your face onto your hands and could not help but start to shiver. Crying had been something you had learned not to show, as it caused a loss of precious water. This had been your alternative.

“It is interesting how all Fremen show this emotion in a different way. None of you seem to cry. Not initially. And this is what you do. How quaint” he commented.

You did not know what to do with that comment. You decided to just keep to the position you had chosen, and silently weep in your hands.

“We as rulers need to be strict on our people. It is the only way to prevent anarchy. I rule with an iron hand on Giedi Prime, and I rule with equal sternness on this planet. Strong people require strong leadership” he explained. “Look at me” while removing one of your hands and forcing your face up. “I am disappointed you failed to see this. You failed to see the reasons behind your own traditions” he said in a humiliating way with a tilted head.

He must have seen your shame grow, your feelings of guilt, as his look started to soften. This evening had been very successful for him, starting to break you down. He stood up with a smile exposing some of his black teeth again and walked to the door, leaving the chair, the food and the drinks he had brought.

But he did not leave without a last word.

Looking at you, at the table and at you again, he said: “I know you will not abuse my trust by drinking anything before dawn.” You nodded, and he left.

Upon his departure you felt you had said a lot and your feelings had been soaring through your body. Perhaps too much. You had never been so loosed-lipped, nor full of spirit.

It was only after his departure that you noticed he had not eaten anything on his own plate. The thought rushed through your head whether you should try to throw up. On second thought you decided against it. You were already at his will. Either you would die through whatever he had contemplated for you, or you would die from hunger. But if he had not intended for you to die, throwing up could entice him to show his wrath. You came to the conclusion, for the sanity of your own mind, that he had left that food for you to eat at a later moment.

Deep inside of you, you knew that the food had been laced with something to bring you to open yourself up to him, mentally and physically. And you would continue to do so, if you wanted to survive, needing the food in front of you for that very purpose.

+++

Another day past. At the end of the day, you had consumed everything he had brought, somehow trusting he would bring you more despite the hunger that had started to set in.

And he did.

As night started to fall, the door was opened again, and the young lord stepped in. You flew up from your chair to greet him. “Good evening lord na-Baron.”

“Very good. You are learning” he complimented. “But you are not there yet entirely. The next time I enter that door, I expect you to already be kneeling.” A rush of blood flew through your body, unasked for filling your nether regions with energy. “I apologise, lord Harkonnen” as you dropped yourself to the ground.

“Very good” he repeated. “You are not a quick learner, but you may get there. I can work with that for the time being.”

He walked to the table, placed his basket on the table and went to stand in front of you. “I have decided that from now on, every time that you want to eat, you first need to drink” as he fiddled with his trousers and presented his cock, already fully erect and menacing.

You knew what to do, as you opened your mouth and drew him in.

Famished as you were, you started sucking him as hard as your mouth would allow you to.

“Hungry girl, aren’t you? Hungry for my cock, for my black nutritious semen. I have started to condition you just fine. You should be grateful for my teachings. This is what will keep you alive.” He moaned as he grabbed your head and said: “let me help you, little Fremen student.”

Continuing to moan he released himself in your throat this time. After a couple of seconds, he moved himself to the beginning of your mouth. “Suck me dry, you should not let any drop go to waste” he suggested. A suggestion you followed. If you knew drops were left, he would not even need to ask you to collect these; you would have done so out of sheer will and need. For the first time, you touched him, held him, to pull his folds back and salvage any last bit of what he had to offer to you.

Before long he started to get hard again. You thought he wanted you to repeat, causing you to guide him deeper in. It happened automatically, you did not even think about it. But, that was not what he had planned as he removed himself from you: “you have earned your right for food. Eat. It is still warm.”

Again, the basket contained to sets of plates and cutlery. Now you were tasked to split the food. Again, he did not eat or drink anything. Again, you were not allowed to drink. Again, a conversation ensued. A conversation about your history, your upbringing.

A conversation that turned into discussing your fears, trauma’s. No-one, apart from your mother, had ever learned about your fear of water. A near-death experience when you fell in one of the wells as a toddler, had been kept buried deep inside. but here you were spilling it in great detail to your host, who seemed pleased to learn of it. Within Fremen society you had managed to avoid large bodies of water since, by referring to tradition and the fear of wasting any drop.

As he left for the night, he stood still in the door again, looking at the drinks on the table and at you again. Wanting to receive his praise again, you stated: “I will salvage your taste until dawn, my lord Harkonnen.” With a confirming nod he left and locked the door.

+++

During the day, you saw Feyd-Rautha train on the grounds again. And it felt as if it was a present given to you, for your compliance and increased understanding. For hours you looked at him, mesmerized.

+++

That night he did not visit you.

You could not catch sleep as your mind started to go in overdrive on what you should have done differently.

+++

Another day past. Another day without food, water or attention. A day laced with guilt, and fear.

+++

This night, he called on you again. Upon hearing the lock being turned, your heart jumped. You knew what you needed to do, not wanting to risk anything to be left alone for more than a day again. Hurling out of bed, on your knees, ready to receive him.

+++

[Link to chapter 2 / 2 to follow - Punish me (part 2 of 2): the story on how you became one of Feyd-Rautha’s concubines]

@kasagia - a tag as requested

[echos-girlfriend]

Shout out to my first follower and bestie

@moonlight-sonata99 you a real one fam ☝️

I swear it’s been exactly a month since you started following me and you helped me get to where I am 🥹 all of you guys did! I love all of you ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

[abirddogmoment]

We're learning about grouse hunting together!

I was really undecided on whether I wanted to hunt with Rory for realsies because I don't have a shotgun and I don't really care to get a shotgun (I have a gun license from my time up north). I have a small air rifle and a tactical slingshot (both legal for hunting small game in my area) so I've been taking those for walks in hunting areas, along with all my permits and stuff, just to see what we see.

This grouse woods is in the same corner as my swamp, just a different part of the rec area. You can legally hunt small game during the open season with dogs with some restrictions (certain distance from the parking, some trails close for hunting on a rotational basis for maintenance, etc.) but it's not terribly popular so it's a really good area to learn. We are looking for ruffed grouse and rabbit, both of which are super common out here.

With pointing dogs like britts, you generally don't want to shoot any game unless they're pointing steady (*except when doing gun conditioning, but that's a specific training set up) - it makes sense because a shot bird is the ultimate reward and you want to make sure you're reinforcing the behaviour you want, which is usually a safe steady point. Rory isn't pointing steady yet so there's really not much for me to do on these walks besides reinforce good manners (recall, how far she ranges, etc.).

There's a really well known saying in pointing dogs, which is wild birds make bird dogs. Wild birds flush (fly away) much more reliably than farmed birds so the chances of a dog catching a wild bird is really minimal compared to farmed birds. It's super important to get young bird dogs on wild birds as much as possible so they learn all the important skills: how to navigate terrain, what habitat holds birds, what each bird species smells like, how far they can range, and most importantly, that they need a person to actually get a bird.

(Most of these skills can be taught with planted birds in training, but planted birds may be more habituated to people and dogs so they might not flush reliably. Once pointing dogs learn that they can catch birds themselves, it's much harder to foster a strong stop and point. You might see people using these tip ups, which protect the training bird from the dog. You'll often see training dogs on long lines (called check cords) or with a flank collar to reinforce not getting too close to the bird, but you have to phase those out quickly so the dog doesn't become dependent on them. You also have to be really careful with scent trails when setting up planted birds or you might end up with a dog that follows your scent instead of looking for birds organically. And of course, you have to train without birds sometimes so the dog doesn't get discouraged about not finding birds quickly because sometimes there just aren't birds out there. Lots to consider when setting up training!)

Anyway I've been trying to get Rory out on wild birds as much as possible (with the caveat that we don't run wild birds during nesting season) so we're wandering the grouse woods lately. My early recall training is really paying off because she's been super reliable in terms of good manners, it's wonderful to see!

We've been out four times (1-2 hours each) so far since the season opened. The first two times we're mostly just a pleasant walk in the woods, Rory didn't really know what we were doing so she was just vibing (THIS IS TOTALLY FINE, SHE'S NEW TO THIS). We had a couple chance grouse encounters and I could see the wheels turning, I encouraged her to sniff around where the grouse were sitting before they flew off and I watched her start to connect the dots.

(It's important to remember that dogs don't know what they're looking for until you show them. Most bird dogs are naturally birdy, but they don't know which birds are good and which birds are boring! You have to show them which birds you care about - this is easiest if you can run with an experienced hunting dog, but you can do it alone like I am by making a big deal about any interest in the "correct" birds.)

The last time we went out to the grouse woods, she did a couple of really nice whip-arounds when she caught scent she liked and followed scent off the trail I was walking! This is the behaviour I want to see so it was awesome to watch it start to click! She trailed a moose (don't want that, she found some moose pee to roll in so whatever), a pileated woodpecker (again, don't want that but it was cool to see), and two separate grouse. The first was on the wrong side of the fence so I couldn't do anything about it but she held a really nice point (the photo) and I gave her a ton of chicken and praise for it. The second was a quick point but it flushed really far away so there was no finding it again. Both birds weren't visible when she found them, they were true scent points and she was strategically looking for them so that was super cool!

She's still in heat and super sensitive right now so I wouldn't shoot over her anyway, but I'm getting pretty accurate with my slingshot so I'm hoping we can connect on something this fall - both for her pointing steady and me aiming properly. She gets more steady and more sure of herself every time we go out so it's only a matter of time!

[mitamicah]

.

[jobazzle]

just reached 1k followers on here which i think is super cool and super fun omg 🫶

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

lotus

a/n: this has been sitting half-written on my pc for i don't even know how many months (tbh at least half a year. i was living somewhere else when i started it wow). finally took a deep breath and finished it (though with an ending that kinda flies by a bit because just wanted it to get done. i was scared that the story would never see the light of day, so zooming through the ending was a better option)

summary: a nervous breath then escaped his lungs before he uttered, “you do know what kind of massage this is, right?” to which you only blinked back at him all the same, none of your shock evaporation at his words, “you know that I’m here to give you more than just a regular massage?”

warnings: massage therapist!bucky barnes x reader, smut, sex worker!bucky, bucky doesn't have the metal arm in this one, thinking that your friend just signed you up for a normal massage but then it turns out to be an erotic one, kissing, dirty talk, manhandling, fingering, toys, multiple orgasms, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, anal, double penetration

word count: 4000

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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With a hand tangled up in one of the ties of the robe you wore, you answered your front door after finally hearing the bells chime.

“Hi,” a soft smile swiftly warmed up the features of the man standing on the other side of the threshold, “are you miss Y/l/n?”

“Yeah, I am,” a tingle of nerves flickered through your body as your gaze washed over him, “you must be the masseuse.”

Why did he have to be so attractive? If it was this difficult to remember to breathe when he was standing completely out of your reach, then how were you going to survive a guy such as him touching you?

Following your gaze down to the folded-up table he carried, he nodded, “guilty,” before setting down the duffle bag he clutched in his other hand and extended it for you to grasp, “my name is Bucky.”

“Bucky,” you briefly shook it, “nice to meet you.”

“You too,” the touch faded, and he bent down to pick the supplies back up, “so, where should I set up?”

“Oh, in here, in the living room,” you gestured behind you and shifted to the side for him to enter. As he set up everything, you stayed at the perimeter and felt your heartbeat thump behind your ribcage, “is it weird that I’m a bit nervous?” you then quietly asked.

Briefly pausing his actions as he unfurled the massage table, he cast a glance your way.

“It’s not weird at all, it’s okay,” he stated in a calm tone, “but I assure you, this is a completely safe space, you’re in good hands.”

“I just–, this wasn’t exactly my idea, or even at all,” your hands fiddle further with the terrycloth tie around your waist as you began to ramble, “Nat, my friend, she told me that I needed to relax, so she booked this appointment for me as a treat. I don’t even know what it is she signed me up for, if it was just like a little five-minute long thing or what.”

“Oh no, she signed you up for the full package, 90 minutes.” 

“Really?” your eyebrows rose, “wow, that’s amazing.”

Once the table was set up and he rummaged through the bag for a towel as well as other supplies, his low timbre filled the room once more.

“So, before we start, I’d just like to ask if there’s anything off limits to you, anything you don’t like or that you’re not interested in? Or perhaps something in particular you’d like today?”

“Uh, I don’t think so,” your eyes narrowed slightly as you thought, quickly scanning through your body to get a good sense, “you can just be as rough with me as you want.”

“Alright, you like it rough, good to know,” you felt yourself suck in a silent breath at the way the phrase fell from his lips, “you ready to begin?”

“Yep,” you swallowed, hoping he didn’t notice how flustered he seemed to make you. 

He then lifted up the ivory sheets he’d sprawled out on the plush bench and held it up high, giving you a smidge of privacy as you dropped your robe to a nearby armchair, before laying down on the table and feeling the cotton drape over you. 

As you layed there on your stomach with your face comfortably nestled in the little nook, you sensed Bucky adjust the fabric, folding it down so that your entire back was exposed. 

A dull click found your ears as he pumped some oil into his palm. The very first touch conjured a brisk breath to fill your lungs as his hands slid along your spine, spreading the slickness around. 

Though when you finally managed to force yourself to relax into his touch, a soft moan slipped from your lips as his meticulous grip found a muscle particularly sore.

“Sorry,” you timidly apologized for the sound. 

But he simply zeroed in on the very spot that had made you groan and said, “don’t apologize, whatever bubbles up, please let it out.”

Your lips stayed half parted as his touch dug deeper, “it just feels really good right there...”

“Yeah, you seem to be holding a lot of tension in your back, especially right here between your shoulder blades.”

“Probably all the time on the couch,” you let out a pitiful chuckle, “I just kept on getting into uncomfortable positions and then stayed like that. Which, funnily enough, is pretty symbolic of how I ended up there in the first place, stuffing my face with Ben and Jerry’s and binging the most depressing of romcoms.”

“Bad breakup?” he guessed. 

“I don’t think you can call it a break-up if you never really were together in the first place,” you let out a sigh. Yet again had you fallen for a guy who’d turned out to be a complete and utter asshole, “men are just pigs,” you spat out, “no offence.”

“Oh, none taken,” he uttered, “you know, it’s actually very common for people to get this particular treatment after something like that.”

“Really? Your touch is on the same level as bawling your eyes out to Joni Mitchell?” you jested, “well, now I’m really happy that I let my friend talk me into this.”

Soon, when his touch had kneaded every inch of your back, it faded away and reappeared lower on your frame as you then felt him fold the sheet up to expose your legs, letting the thin fabric only drape across and cover the curve of your bottom. 

Once his touch had soothingly wandered up the length of your legs and as his broad palms dented your slightly parted thighs, you nearly didn’t notice through the trance-like state you’d drifted off to when his reach crept close enough to your core to feel the heat radiating off it. A gasp parted your lips as his fingers briefly ghosted against the very outside of your puff before retreating back down your thigh. 

“Is it alright if remove this for a bit?” he then asked as you felt his hand clutch the sliver of modesty that remained. 

“Oh, uhm,” you fought to comprehend his question through the haze you’d slipped into, both the haze of relaxation, though maybe more predominately the haze of sin, which was most likely what had swayed you to utter, “sure,” trying your best to stay calm as he removed the sheet completely. 

It became a difficult task to keep your quiet noises at bay and have them not seep through your heavy breath as he then began to massage the soft peak of your butt. 

You tried to remind yourself that it was the biggest muscle on the human body and thereby completely normal to be treated in this manner, but that truth would have been easier to swallow if it had been a less attractive specimen touching you in such a way. 

Eventually, Bucky’s lavish rubs came to spread you apart with each repetitive motion, surely granting himself a perfect view of just how mortifyingly wet you’d become. 

As he let his broad thumbs dig into your sitting points, you told yourself it was the slipperiness of the oil that caused his fingers to sweep closer to your core and not your own nectar that had leaked down towards his touch. 

It felt so good that your hips unconsciously tilted up and into his touch, as his thumbs slid close enough to caress your outer lips, nearly capturing them in a gentle pinch. 

You didn’t know how long it took, how long you essentially grinded into him as if you were in heat, but eventually, you snapped out of your fog and realized just where his fingers were. 

“U-uh… w-what are you doing?” your frame jumped slightly at the realization.

“Do you not like this?” his touch paused, though didn’t retreat. 

“Why–, uhm…” you nearly panted, “you’re just very close to somewhere else.”

And when he simply uttered, “yeah, I know,” in an almost amused and cocky tone. You swiftly propped yourself up onto your arms and glared back at him, successfully prompting him to rip his hands away.

Snatching the sheet back over your frame as you scrambled to a seat, you stared back at him in utter shock, “I’m sorry, but are you actually trying to sleep with me right now?”

His brows furrowed slightly as he blinked back at you, seemingly confused at your outburst, “I’m just doing my job.”

“I’ve had massages before, that was not–… that right there was something else. That was not you doing your job, that was your hands being persuaded by your dick.”

A nervous breath then escaped his lungs before he uttered, “you do know what kind of massage this is, right?” to which you only blinked back at him all the same, none of your shock evaporation at his words, “you know that I’m here to give you more than just a regular massage?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh boy, I’m sorry, I thought you knew…” his glance fell to the floor as he then began to enlighten, “well, the lotus wellness center, where I work, specializes in the blend of not just physical and mental health, but also sexual health and satisfaction. An erotic massage, like the one you were signed up for, is one of the many services we offer.”

Your eyes had grown as wide as saucers during his explanation, “o-oh…”

“I totally understand if you wanna stop, if you’re not interested.”

“I–…” you tried to make heads or tails of the situation you found yourself in, “so you were gonna–, what? Fuck me?”

“I was gonna try and make you feel good, help you relax and unwind. You were signed up for the aurelia treatment which would involve me using my hands to pleasure you, as well as whatever toys you might be interested in.”

“Toys?”

“Yes, I have a generous collection with me,” he briefly gestured back to the duffle bag resting on the couch. 

“Okay, uhm…” one of your palms came down to brush over your features as you fought to comprehend it all.

“Do you want me to pack up and go?” you heard him ask. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, before you even realized it was moving, you shook your head. Letting your gaze flutter back up to find his, you exhaled lowly, “fuck…”

“I can also just give you a completely traditional massage if that’s what you want.”

“…and if I wanna try the other thing?” you nearly whispered. 

“Do you?”  

“I–…” you tried to speak, though couldn’t find the words and ended up just hazily nodding back at him. 

“Alright,” he gently mirrored the nod that still faintly rocked your head, “I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with, I promise. You just say the word, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathed, shivering slightly at the tingle of goosebumps that spread across your flesh. 

The way he held your gaze a moment longer before shifting it to the massage table you still sat upon made you feel as if you might melt off it entirely.

“Lay back down,” he faintly nodded to the bench. 

Your eyes stayed glued on him long after you now layed sprawled out on your back. 

Letting his touch graze the sheet you still absentmindedly clutched to your chest, he asked, “do you wanna keep this on?”

“No,” you shook your head faintly, “you can remove it.”

“Okay,” he gently peeled the fabric off of you, “just say if you get cold, alright?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, still having a hard time wrapping your head around the fantasy you found yourself in. 

He began by working at your arms, tenderly spreading some oil across them and massaging down the length of them, one at a time, till his skilful fingers descended to work at your palms. It nearly felt as if he was merely holding your hand before he tossed you into the deep end with how intimate the simple beginning sensed. 

You couldn’t command your gaze to leave his visage as you traced his every move as if he was made of stardust. 

When his warmth let go of your hand, he reached for the bottle of oil that didn’t have a pump and unscrewed the top. Your bottom lip got caught by your teeth as he then poured a bit out over your stomach, curving the s-waves of droplets all the way up and across your boobs, dripping over your pebbly nipples as they stared back at him. 

As Bucky began to rub it in, he first stared softly down at your belly before swooping up, only to skip over your tits entirely and instead yanking a disappointed whimper from your lungs as he then commenced massaging your shoulders. 

You felt a bit lightheaded as you blinked up at him, all tall and broad, looming above your head and digging his warm touch into the base of your neck. 

Though when his rough palms finally did swoop down to caress your soft peaks, he quietly checked in, “this okay?” to which you simply nodded your head, eyebrows knitting together at the intenseness of the built-up anticipation.

Your entire chest cage heaved beneath his touch as he finally massaged your boobs, even occasionally fleeting away to ghost across your nipples, only to capture them in a pinch the next moment. 

You felt as if you were floating down a calm stream, letting the river of sin take you somewhere new and wonderful. 

Eventually, his broad palms swept up and down your form, though each time his reach dared to near your core, he barely touched you at all, missing entirely the spots that throbbed for attention, which of course only caused the sensation to deepen and render you even more desperate from his teasing. 

When he then shifted to stand to the side of the patted table, his deep voice washed over you once more as his touch stayed warm against your skin.

“Everything okay so far?”

“Yeah…” you hummed as you lazily blinked up at him, and the soft smile that curved your lips caused a similar one to bloom upon his own. 

His slow stride then carried him further down till his fingers began to dent the softness of your thighs. 

After he’d made your eyes flutter at the way he worked at the muscles in your legs, focusing on one thigh at a time, slowing working his way up till his fingertips stretched to dizzily brush against your outermost petals, it was then, that his sweeps grew and blossomed till one fleeting tease to your centre morphed into more as he kept coming back, each fluttering time slowly transforming till the maddening pets had become everything you’d dreamed of.

Soft whimpers flowed out of your lungs as he gently folded each of your legs up by your sides and cracked you wide open for him.  

As he gazed down at you with such intensity you’d never experienced before, it only took one step for him to change his angle and stand tall next to your hips. 

Letting his palms run up your inner thighs, the edges of each of his broad thumbs then met and joined on either side of your pussy as he captured it in a light pinch, making you moan softly, “fuck….” as his touch rolled your clit through your glistening puff. 

You nearly didn’t catch it because of how hard your own pants were, but Bucky’s own breaths had picked up as well and with a few stray curses seeping through his teeth as he continued to pluck at the strings of your pleasure. 

But then, before you could truly lose yourself to the ecstasy you felt flicking in your periphery, his hands slipped away, a smirk fast on his lips as a whine escaped you and he returned his attention to the rest of your body. Though thankfully, his torture only carried on a short moment before he finally granted you the first of many treats.

“Oh, yeah,” you couldn’t help but moan as he rubbed your clit and carried you over the peak. 

“Right there?” he leaned down closer to you as he kept up his pace, his free hand coming to rest right beside your head as he loomed over you. 

“Yeah,” you breathlessly panted as your body trembled beneath his touch. 

“Yeah?” he huskily echoed, nearly sharing your breath as he drew out your orgasm for as long as he could, and even as your body began to squirm at the sensitivity that swiftly set in, his touch never left you, only lightened to make it bearable and tickle you back from the high. 

He studied your features fiercely as his fingers then came down to tease your entrance. 

“How about this?” your leaky hole swallowed up the two digits he swiftly filled it with, “how’s that? Is that what you want?”

“Oh fuck!” your back briefly arched and lifted you off the table, closer to him for but a moment as sloppy sounds of your want echoed at the slow rhythm he played you at. 

“Or do you need a little more maybe?” he sneaked another finger inside, “huh?” his frame then bent down till you could feel his hot breath fan across your face, “what do you want? You want something more to make you feel good right here?” his fingers slid back out of your pussy and fluttered up till they found your puffy pearl, “or here?” he briefly soared back down to plug up your cunt once more, but only offered you one messily rock before his digits slipped back out and drifted down much further than you expected, “or maybe even here?” you let out a gasp as the slick pads of his fingers glided over your little rosebud. 

“I–, I–,” you struggled to answer him, feeling so foggy that you might just fall off the table, “fuck…” 

“I have any toy you could dream of with me,” he purred as your grip found his shirt for support, “so, what do you want?”

“I want–, I want–”

“What?” he pushed as he continued to stare down into your eyes. 

And as blinked back at him, only one wish came to mind, one that you timidly whispered, “y-you…”

But as fear began to prickle at your nerves, they all dissipated as the masseuse wasn’t offended at all, your words somehow conjuring a dazzled smile to appear upon his lip before he then chuckled warmly, “roll over for me.”

You nearly gave yourself whiplash from the hast you tried to fulfil his command.         

As he soon kneeled down to be on level with where your head was now twisted and resting on its side, his hand drifted up for you to spot the dildo clutched in his grasp. 

Handing it off to your flicking fingers, his touch briefly lingered on your cheek, stroking it softly as he said, “then pretend this is me, will you? Get it nice and sloppy for me.”

When you began to plant pecks across the silicon, your eyes shadowed him as far as they could as he straightened back up and walked back far enough to disappear from your sight, only for you to know where he’d gone to once you felt his mouth begin to devour you whole. 

It became difficult to concentrate on the task he’d given you, so much so that he had to remind you each time his lavish tongue buried between your legs caused your own to forget itself. 

Arching your ass further up towards his efforts, he tilted away from your drooling cunt and instead nipped up till he lapped against your other hole. 

“Oh, that feels really good,” you moaned around the dildo as you tried to catch a glimpse of him, though only saw the edge of one of his hands and they dented your bottom. 

“Yeah?” he let a dollop of spit drop to your rosebud before he nudged the pad of a thumb against it, “you like having this little hole played with?”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded, then watched as he momentarily dipped away to snatch up a butt plug from the zipped-open treasure trove his bag was. 

Once the toy was snugly buried within your little ass, he snatched the dildo out of your mouth and a string of your drool chased the silicone as he brought it back to tap against the sloppy petals of your pussy. 

It didn’t take very long after he’d begun to fuck you with the toy that you tumbled over the edge once more, making you that much more malleable when he yanked at your legs and manhandled you down to the bottom of the bench till your unsteady feet were once again on the floor and he had you bent over the table like a needy whore. 

That was also when your weak pleas began to bubble out, begging for him to fill you up with something other than a toy. 

Even though you couldn’t see his face, you swore you heard a tinge of astonishment in his tone when he asked you to clarify, making sure it really was him that had you begging and not just the way he made you feel. 

Though once you finally managed to convey the sincerity of your words and convince him of the way he and not just the acts he was performing, drove you wild, it was in the middle of chasing your next high that he broke his pattern and traded out the dildo with his own hard cock. 

A low moan seeped across your spine as he buried his length completely and let himself melt down against your back. Letting himself savour the sweetness of your warmth clenching around his fat girth, it took him a while before he finally began to move and soon found a steady pace that had your toes curling against the floorboards. 

His fingers gently dug into the soreness still remaining all down your back as his hips repeatedly collided with the plush of your ass in desperate thrusts. Though as his digits worked their way down the length of your spine, they eventually found the little plug that still remained in your ass. 

Teasingly twisting the toy, you thought that was everything he had planned, though all of those fantasies fluttered away when he suddenly yanked the small plug out and switched it with the bigger toy still firm in his grasp, your little hole only managing to wink up at him before he stuffed it full once more. 

You lost track of the amount of times he made you cum as the remainder of the intense dance became a bit of a blur. At one point he had you flipped around and lying on your back, gasping up at him as he folded you in half and nearly broke the massage table beneath you from how hard his deep strokes were. At the next, the dildo he drove you mad with was traded out with his own fat cock and he conjured a vibrating wand to hold against your puffy clit as he watched your pussy leak from the bliss. But at the end, once you were nothing more than a puddle on the table, his load painted against your tits as he let his frame drape down atop of yours, a hazy question left your lips.

“Is that usually how that goes?” you asked as you both panted, plastered against one another. 

Raising himself up only enough for his eye to catch your own, he uttered sincerely, “no…” and his gaze flickered down towards your lips, “no, it is not…” before he let himself give you the thing you hadn’t dared to request. The kiss was so sweet it nearly caused you to forget the sinful acts you’d just wrapped up.

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[amourluvie]

lowkey… u should drop a mr crawling fic where he learns our language to say love you or smth like that 🫣🫣 or like anyone tbh

This is the cutest idea ever omg

◟✿ "you love me too?" An mr crawling x reader . . .ᐟ

Notes . . .ᐟ currently manifesting that homicipher gets really popular 🙏

character . . .ᐟ mr crawling

After you decided to take him with you and finally escaped the other world,you have noticed he's just like a puppy,despite being a monster. He was always protecting you from the other monsters, specially the red haired man with a umbrella,and an intimidating aura. there were times that separated him and you,but your bond with him never broke. The way he patted your head whenever you were hurt to reassure that everything's is going to be fine with a comforting tone in his voice blossomed something in your heart. And you couldn't bring yourself to leave him there.

you gave him a bath first to get rid of the smell of rotting corpse and blood,and then feed him something that definitely wasn't soup with meat chunks in it,but he enjoyed it alot.

recently you have noticed that he always listened to your conversations with other humans,studying how other humans interacted with eachother,in their languages. It was very interesting to him how people interacted,he always has followed you to wherever you go,and you don't mind it at all since people can't see him,watching you talk with your friends behind you,being curious. if your friends could have the ability to see him,they probably would have been weirded out and thought of him as just a weirdo.

He watched as you watched those rom-coms,with a loving expression,there was this one thing that he was fascinated about. The way your eyes would glint up with love and affection and that soft smile that crept up on your face,was the time one of the characters will say the words "I love you" to eachother,simply confessing their love. As they melt to eachother's embrace and even shared a sweet,tender kiss. He wondered if he had said those words to you you would do the same thing to him too.

Curiosity got the best of him as he finally built up the courage as he went over to your bed where you laying in,on your phone just listening to some music,and laid down beside you as he laid his head down on your shoulder, you smiled at him as you put the phone down and started petting his head. Mr crawling thought this was the perfect time to finally open the key to his undead heart and confess his feelings for you.

"I love you." "I love you so so so much!" He repeated,with a eerie-ly beautiful smile that caught you off guard. "Wait what!?" You thought you misheard him, as he looked and tilted his head,much like a confused puppy. "I love you! You love me too?" He questioned,hope sparking in his undead eyes, blush painted your cheeks as you realised this wasn't a dream and he really loves you,and you loved him too. "Yes!yes! Me love you too! Very much!" As you planted a kiss to his forehead,falling into his arms and embracing him in a warm hug,much like those couples in your favourite rom-coms.

[galariangengar]

One of my friends/roommates from my last year of college posted a note on Instagram last night saying something like “bitches be hating cuz they think my media is ‘toxic’”. Kinda shady and sus tbh… I checked my facebook and came across her page, and she has posted quotes of shit saying like “thank you to the real friends that check up on me from time to time” and “I don’t want to deal with drama. I just wanna live, laugh and prosper”. Like… idk what you’re going through (if anything bad/negative is happening with you rn), but that does seem hella shady tbh…

[floradanika25]

Soooo i was talking with one of my friends and we came onto how many people from our old class follows me on instagram.

I said quite a lot of them but as i went to check, it was significantly less than i remembered .

Turned out they have basically all apparently unfollowed me.

They still follow each other.

[zorobff]

how to disappear. (opla!zoro x fem!reader)

synopsis: joining luffy’s crew made you believe that you’d finally escaped your former pirate crew and nightmare of a captain for good. that is, until a certain butler starts looking a little too familiar. good thing zoro’s keeping a close eye on you.

warnings: opla spoilers (ep 3), some direct dialogue from opla, mentions of verbal/physical abuse, kuro is just a weirdo tbh, reader is called a bitch, protective zoro, for the sake of the story sham and buchie joined the black cat pirates after reader left

word count: 4.7k

“this guy is full of shit.”

you knock your shoulder into zoro’s wider one. “be nice. and so what if he is?” 

zoro gives you a pointed glare. “then we should turn around and look for someone who can actually help us find a ship.” 

“all business, as per usual,” you reply, with a purposefully dramatic sigh. “why can’t you have a little fun?” 

“what about this is supposed to be fun?” zoro spits out the word like it’s poisonous. “this is the blandest village i’ve ever seen.”

you scoff. “now you’re the one that’s full of shit. nothing’s ever bland with us and you know it.” 

the us in question was your newly formed pirate crew… if you and luffy could even be considered that. having left the ship you’d been on a few years ago, you were in search of a new crew. luffy was persistent and charming — when you’d crossed paths in shells town, it took little to no time for him to convince you to join his hunt for the one piece. zoro and nami, on the other hand, had yet to follow in your footsteps. 

“well, considering that we’ve only been traveling together for a day and a half and i’ve already escaped a marine base, defeated a marine captain, and fought a clown with devil fruit powers… i’d actually have to agree.” 

you can’t help but giggle at his sarcastic delivery. “be grateful, zoro. not many pirate crews are this fun to be on, trust me. oh wait, that’s right, you still haven’t officially joined—”

“tell me about your old pirate crew,” interjects zoro, your comment having piqued his interest. 

you notice that the playful atmosphere dissipates. “god, where do i even start?” 

zoro answers that for you. “why did you leave?”

“starting with the hard hitting questions, huh?” you joke, mostly to stall. you clear your throat before you answer. “well, it was different. nothing like what luffy has going on. he actually cares about his crew… and even those who aren’t technically on it.” 

at that, a smile tugs at the corner of zoro’s lips. even you crack a small grin. although as you continue speaking, it fades. 

“on my old crew, we were dispensable. anytime something went wrong, our own captain would threaten to kill us. it was… scary, to be completely honest. there were so many times when i thought i’d die with that filthy crew. and i never wanted that. so as soon as we docked at shells town, i left.”  

zoro’s jaw clenches as imagines the things you’d seen and been subjected to. “this old captain of yours sounds like a real—”

“he was a nightmare,” you tell him. “he didn’t care that i was the only woman on board, he treated me just as horribly, if not worse.” 

zoro stops so suddenly that it takes you a second to realize he’s not walking alongside you.

“what do you mean by that.” the way zoro phrases the inquiry doesn’t even make it sound like a question. more like a demand. his narrowed eyes are fixed solely on you. holding his gaze feels… intense. 

you can’t help but glance away as you answer him. “he was just a bit of a creep.”

before zoro has the chance to try and extract more information out of you, a familiar voice calls both your names. you’re not really sure when you and zoro had fallen behind but from where you currently stand, the rest of your group looks miniature. or perhaps it’s just the massive size of the mansion behind them that makes luffy, nami, and usopp look pocket-sized in comparison. 

“why’d you stop walking?!” your captain shouts, hands pressed on each side of his mouth to amplify his voice. “get over here, we’re about to go in through the top secret entrance!” 

you vaguely make out usopp gesturing for luffy to keep his voice down. you’re sure that would warrant another comment from zoro about his reliability but he’s too busy staring at you with that expectant look in his eyes. 

“we better catch up,” you tell him, heading in the direction of the deluxe home. 

he allows you to dodge the subject and sighs, walking in long strides to catch up to you.  

“i’ve never seen a house this big before,” luffy admits, admiring the mansion along with the wellkept greenery surrounding it. 

“awesome, right?” usopp gloats, walking around like he owned the place. “kaya’s given me an open invitation to drop by anytime i want.” 

“wow.” you’re not sure if luffy was just going along with usopp’s act or if he really believed him. knowing the devil fruit user, it was more than likely the latter. “all this for just one person?”

“well, she lives here with her butler and a few other staff,” usopp replies, leaning against the stone well that sat in the middle of the lawn.

“money really shows you who people truly are,” nami mutters, eyes scanning the property. “most people only care about themselves and what’s theirs.”

zoro is quick to throw the insult back at her. “sounds like someone i know.”

you roll your eyes at his comment, though you make no effort to disagree with him. nami was a little on the materialistic side. 

“and a small staff makes for easy pickings,” she continues, proving your point.

“we just got here and you’re already planning on robbing the place blind?” you ask though you already know the answer.

“at least a little blurry,” she smirks, following behind luffy and usopp who walk toward the entrance. 

you and zoro share a look. one that says disappointed but not surprised. 

going under a shrub shaped as an arch, you’re met with a beautiful pond. you admire the pink lilies that float at the top and the bushes that were intricately trimmed into the shape of various animals. even if the people that lived here were filthy rich, at least they had good decorative taste. 

“so if you have an invitation, why are we going around the back way?” luffy ponders.

usopp’s answer is nonchalant. “oh, i never use the front entrance. like i said, this is the vip entrance reserved for special guests.”

zoro scoffs. “this guy’s definitely–”

“don’t start,” you groan, cutting him off. 

abruptly, usopp freezes and spins around, attempting to usher your crew back. “you know what, there’s actually a more exclusive entrance this way–”

the sharp swoosh of a knife cutting through the air and burying itself in the ground between usopp’s feet cuts him off. from the direction the kitchen utensil was thrown stands a heavyset gentleman with his face wrinkled in anger. his demanding voice booms through the garden, “the hell are you doing here, usopp?” 

the dark-skinned boy fumbles over his word. “buchi, buddy, uh, kaya’s expecting me.”

“another one of your lies,” the man – seemingly named buchi – seethes, grabbing him by the collar. “you ain’t welcome here and you know it.”

“i know nothing of the sort,” usopp retorts, keeping his cool even when he was practically being lifted off the ground by his shirt. “i’m here to give kaya an extra special gift.”

before buchi can get another word out, a feminine voice calls out for your companion. coming down the steps is a frail looking girl in a pink dress. on her arm is a man dressed in a crisp suit, presumably the butler usopp had mentioned earlier. though, from where you stand you can’t see either of their faces too clearly. 

“what a wonderful surprise,” she exclaims, breathlessly. 

“kaya!” usopp exclaims, returning her enthusiasm. buchi has no choice but to let him go, begrudgingly. usopp makes sure to shoot him a smug look before walking towards the young girl. “happy birthday.” 

the butler clears his throat, not afraid to intrude on their special moment. “usopp, we’ve discussed this before. you mustn’t show up unannounced.” 

“nonsense, klahadore.” kaya smiles warmly. “have you come to tell me another story? i do love hearing about your adventures.” 

“i’ll do you one better,” usopp smirks with such confidence that even you’re left wondering what kind of surprise he has up his sleeve. “i brought some of my crew!” he gestures back towards the four of you, proudly. 

your excitement vanishes. “oh. the surprise is… us.”

“well, that’s boring,” luffy agrees, just as disappointed as you are. 

kaya, on the other hand, is none the wiser. “it’s so nice to meet you. you must all stay for dinner.” 

klahadore lowers his voice. “miss kaya, it is a bit last minute. i’m afraid the kitchen hasn’t prepared for any extra guests.”

“please,” begs kaya, softly. “it’s my birthday. can’t be too much trouble can it?” 

giving in, klahadore purses his lips. “anything for you, miss kaya.” 

luffy claps his hands together. “alright! when do we eat?” 

“you don’t. not dressed like that, at least.” the butler directs himself to a staff member with teal colored hair. “sham, kindly show usopp and his friends to the guest suites. you will bathe and change before dinner.”

she follows his orders and leads the way. luffy, usopp, nami, and zoro trail behind her and you go to do the same. however, all it takes is a quick glance to stop you dead in your tracks. usually, you weren’t one to stare but klahadore’s face. that stare. so dark and depraved. 

“yes, miss?” he asks, holding your gaze. “can i help you?” 

“n-no, i…” your throat goes dry as you attempt to recover smoothly. “i just wanted to, um, thank you for being so hospitable.” 

his lips curve upwards into a sinister grin. “the pleasure’s all mine.” as if to confirm your worst fear, klahadore uses his palm to readjust his glasses. his beady eyes gauge your reaction closely.

the familiar gesture sends chills down your spine. appearance-wise, he had changed drastically but his aura was still just as menacing as you remember it. he was still the corrupt pirate captain you used to serve under. you feel like a weak and helpless subordinate all over again.

“klahadore!” giggles kaya. “you’re smiling! that’s certainly a rarity.”

he hums. “i’ve simply come to the realization that having guests once in a while can truly be a delight.”

his sickeningly sweet tone makes your stomach turn. just the fact that you were standing in front of him – captain kuro – again after all these years was nauseating in itself. last you’d heard he had died at the hands of captain morgan. how was this even possible? then again, he wasn’t dubbed kuro of a hundred plans for no reason. he always had a trick or two up his sleeve. you assumed this was no different. 

“hey, you comin’?”

you turn around to see zoro waiting for you. he meets your gaze for a moment. the softness of his eyes is a stark contrast to kuro’s. it’s a breath of fresh air. he then shifts his attention to your former captain and you swear his eyes darken. 

“yeah, sorry,” you mumble, trying not to look shaken as you walk up the steps. 

zoro follows behind you, this time closer than before.

“why would anybody even need this many clothes?”

“it’s not about need with these people, luffy. it’s about want,” nami spits, thumbing through the various fabrics on the wall. 

“at least she’s rich and nice,” luffy replies, innocently.

nami rolls her eyes. “yeah, letting us stay for dinner must be her idea of charity work.” 

“what are we even supposed to wear?” luffy continues, uninterested in nami’s criticism of the rich. 

“anything you want. when are you ever going to get the opportunity to wear things this nice?” 

you step out from behind the changing board where you’d swapped out your old tee and cargo skirt for an elegant satin dress. it was a stunning shade of olive green and frilly lace decorated the edges. not to mention, it hugged your curves in all the right ways.

nami’s eyes widen. “see, she’s got the right idea. you look amazing.” 

you smile, bashfully. “honestly, i feel amazing.”

“you look the same to me,” your captain shrugs.

nami shoots him a death glare but you intervene before she can scold him.

“way to keep me humble, luffy.”

“no problem!” 

at that exact moment, a freshly showered zoro arrives donning a silk robe. he eyes the multitude of garments that cover every inch of the room, not particularly impressed. 

“there you are. don’t you think she looks nice?” nami asks him, gesturing towards you. she doesn’t notice how you shrink under zoro’s gaze. neither does he, as his eyes take their time raking over you, from top to bottom.

he hums. “suits you.” with that, he sets off towards a chair in the corner of the room.  

“seriously?” sighs nami, exasperated. “are you two physically unable to give compliments or something?” 

“hey, doesn’t that butler seem familiar to you guys?” zoro asks, promptly ignoring nami’s complaint. 

his question causes your breath to hitch. you’d pushed the kuro problem to the back of your mind while you were in search of a suitable dinner outfit. you figured that as long as your crew was by your side, he wouldn’t dare try anything. and even if he did… well, you’d seen what had happened to axe-hand morgan and buggy. 

“yeah, i think he was at the last dinner party i attended,” nami replies sarcastically, taking a handful of dresses behind the changing board. 

as he takes a seat, zoro grumbles, “i swear i’ve seen him before.” 

“where?” you can’t help but ask, fiddling with the lace on the neckline of your dress. 

“so far, i’ve got two suspicions. a wanted poster or funky bar on mirrorball island. you ever been?”

you know zoro’s teasing you, judging by the grin on his face. after all, funky bar was known to get insanely rowdy; never would he imagine finding someone as gentle as you there. but what he didn’t know is that it happened to be one of kuro’s favorite bars. per his request, you and the rest of the black cat pirates frequented it often, so he was more than likely right about having seen kuro there. he’d probably even seen you in passing, once or twice. thankfully, he doesn’t seem to have any recollection of that.

the thought of zoro knowing about your past forms a knot in the pit of your stomach. would he think less of you for having joined such a ruthless crew at one point in your life? what if it put a strain on the friendship you’d worked so hard to form? 

“i’ve, uh, heard of it,” you decide to reply, pushing down your worries for the time being. 

he tilts his head slightly, thinking out loud. “then again, i have seen a lot of wanted posters and bars in my time as a pirate hunter.”

you feel a grin creep onto your face. “probably more bars than posters, huh?”

zoro mirrors your smile. “shut up.”

by the time dinner rolls around, the entire crew is doing what they do best. 

luffy is stuffing his face, nami is attempting to swindle one of the staff, zoro is hanging by the drinks, and you’re hanging by zoro. 

“hey zoro, you gotta try this!” luffy calls through a mouthful of food.

“i’ve got all i need right here,” he mutters, taking a swig out of his champagne flute. 

“you know, i don’t think i’ve ever seen you choke down something that isn’t alcohol,” you comment, watching the way he downs the glass in one go. 

dryly, he replies, “that’s because i haven’t.”

“very on brand.”

“ladies and gentlemen,” calls out that voice from the top of the stairs. “may i present… miss kaya.”

arm in arm, kuro and kaya walk down the steps, all eyes on the birthday girl and her stunning gown. well, except you. your eyes never leave the so-called butler by her side. your jaw clenches when he has the audacity to meet your gaze and hold it. shameless bastard. 

once they reach the bottom, merry leads kaya to the guests while kuro takes his post at the bottom of the stairs… right next to the drink table. before you can think about steering yourself and zoro away, kuro speaks.

“forgive me if i am speaking out of line, madam, but i must inform you. you look positively radiant,” he purrs, soaking in your appearance. he looks ready to pounce.

you can’t stop your eyes from rolling. good to know he’s the same pervert he used to be.

looking between you both and sensing your discomfort, zoro steps in. “and you look familiar.” 

kuro’s head stiffly turns to face him, eyes peeling away from you. “highly doubtful, sir.” 

“funky bar? mirror ball island?” 

“funky bar?” kuro repeats, disgusted. “well, i can assure you i’ve never patronized that type of establishment.” 

while it was amusing to see your highly esteemed former captain lie through his teeth, the tension between him and zoro was unbearable. 

“well then.” zoro continues with his little interrogation. “ever been on a wanted poster?”

you cringe at his bluntness. sometimes it seemed like he had less of a filter than luffy.

kuro puts on a scandalized face at the question. “sir! such an accusation is highly offensive.” tugging on his collar, he goes to remove himself from zoro’s probing. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i’m going to help prepare the dinner table.” 

he leaves, en route to the dining room. zoro’s eyes follow his figure until he disappears, squinting as he racks his brain for any further recollection of this suspicious butler. 

you sigh. if zoro was going to continue being so relentless, you were sure the night would end in bloodshed and uncovered secrets. 

“keep this coming,” zoro demands, handing the empty wine bottle to sham. she takes it with a glare. 

“would it kill you to say please?” you ask, slicing the slab of fish on your plate into smaller pieces.

“the service here is shitty. why should i have to be polite?” 

you scowl. “remind me to never have dinner with you again.”

zoro turns to you with that cocky grin of his. “what if i asked nicely?” 

his quip makes your heart flutter but you manage to keep your composure. “you can try your luck.” 

before he can respond, usopp speaks up. “luffy, isn’t there something that you wanted to talk to kaya about?” 

luffy gesticulates enthusiastically with his fork. “oh, yes! usopp told me that you own the whole shipyard.” 

“well, actually, my parents founded the shipyard and merry’s been running the business since they… passed. but all that’s about to change. tonight, at midnight, i will become the sole owner.” she smiles somberly. 

“well, that’s great,” luffy says, raising his drink at her. “because we want to buy a ship from you.” 

“ah, i see. usopp mentioned that you’re sailors.” 

“nope, not sailors. we’re pirates!”

you’re certain at least three people at the table choke on their food, yourself included. 

“this ought to be good,” zoro mumbles behind his glass.

you’re too busy coughing into your napkin to chastise him for finding this entertaining.

“pirates?” kaya repeats, unsure of how to react. 

“yup! we haven’t sailed together for very long but we’ve already defeated an evil clown, raided a marine base, and taken down a captain with an axe! for a hand!” luffy holds up a fist, presumably to impersonate axe-hand morgan.

“sounds a lot like your adventures, usopp,” kaya says, turning to the brunette.

all he can do is laugh dryly. “yeah, that’s… that’s crazy.” 

“and we’re just getting started!” luffy continues, climbing up onto the table.

“someone put me out of my misery,” you mumble, looking down at your plate to ignore the secondhand embarrassment.

a tap on your shoulder answers your plea.

turning around, you find yourself face to face with kuro once again. “madam, a word please?”

“might i ask what for?” zoro cuts in before you can so much as think of a response.

kuro offers him the most forced grin you’ve ever had the displeasure of seeing. “i’m afraid that is between the lady and i.”

the swordsman turns to you, scanning your face for any ounce of discomfort. “you okay with that?”

you inhale, figuring it was finally time for you to confront the darkest part of your past. it was silly to assume you would be able to ignore him throughout your entire stay here. besides, you were sure zoro, just like the rest of your crew, would be on standby if kuro got brave enough to try anything. “sure. just… keep an eye out.”

zoro understands completely. truthfully, you didn’t even need to ask – he always looked after you. “got it.”

you push yourself out of your seat and smooth out your dress. you allow kuro to lead you to the doorway – he was smart enough to know that was the farthest you’d let him take you. 

“what do you want, klahadore?” you seethe, folding your arms.

he arches a brow. “why must you call me that? it’s ridiculous.” 

you tilt your head with faux innocence. “oh? is that not your name? must have misheard.”

he gives you an irritated look, dark eyes drilling into you.

“i remember that look,” you mutter, your memory serving you well. “it’s the same one you’d give me before you’d threaten to slice me to bits with your claws.”

kuro has the audacity to chuckle dryly. “but i never did, did i? although there were certainly times times where i should’ve.”

“what you should be is dead,” you hiss bitterly. “when i heard the news, i knew it was too good to be true.”

“you wound me, kitten,” he drawls, reaching up to fix his glasses. 

the condescending nickname makes your skin crawl. it carried so many awful memories of your time spent with the black cat pirates. it reminded you of just how weak kuro viewed you — nothing but a helpless, pitiful kitten in his eyes. typical of the man that abused his authority and treated you with not a single ounce of respect. 

he continues, putting on a sweet tone. “after all these years, stuck waiting hand and foot on that spoiled brat, there’s nothing i’d love more than to hear my favorite crew mate say my real name.”

you snap at him. “i’m no crew mate of yours.”

he sighs, dramatically. “sadly, you’re correct. after all, you did slip off the ship the moment we docked in shells town. locating you on an island crawling with marines proved to be nearly impossible. we had no choice but to leave without you.”

“that’s exactly why i chose to escape there.” 

“and to this day i can’t for the life of me figure out why you would ever do that. why would you want to leave us? leave me?”

you actually laugh right in his face. “is it really that hard to figure out? you were evil. you threatened and harassed me on a daily basis.”

“so your solution was to join that ragtag crew?” he glances at the table. “it’s pathetic, even for you.”

you lean into his face, lowering your voice down. “i’m happier than i ever was on your shitty crew. every day i wake up grateful that i managed to escape you.”

you see that vein on his forehead bulge before he’s gripping you by the chin. “listen here, you little bitch–”

the shiny silver of a sword slides between you and kuro, coming to rest against his neck. his adam’s apple bobs as he gulps anxiously, releasing you. thanks to zoro’s sword, it seemed as if he finally remembered where he was. you were no longer on his ship, he was no longer allowed to treat you like the dirt he walked on. not without someone noticing, that is. 

“why don’t you step away?” zoro offers simply.

that much was a kindness. usually those who found themselves on the end of zoro’s blade(s) weren’t lucky enough to receive a warning. however, the swordsman didn’t wish to cause a scene. at least not when you were right there and everyone was watching with shock from the dinner table.

kuro obliges, stumbling back. he meets kaya’s horrified eyes, feeling ashamed that he allowed his act to slip. surely this would cause some setbacks in his plan. with no excuse for his uncharacteristic behavior, the raven haired man scurries away and up the stairs.

zoro turns and locks eyes with luffy, giving him one singular nod. luffy returns it, jumping out of his seat and going after the butler. quiet murmuring breaks out at the dinner table, everyone surely confused. 

sheathing his sword, zoro directs his attention to you once more. “are you alright?” a calloused hand comes up to grip your chin, much like kuro had. however, this time, the touch is gentle. loving, almost. you welcome it.

“yeah, i’m… fine.” your heart is beating out of your chest and it has everything to do with your close proximity to zoro.

he tilts your face around, inspecting every inch of it. once he finishes, he pulls back. his demeanor goes serious once more. “we need to have a talk.”

you nod. “i know. i’ve been keeping some things from you guys and–”

“just tell me what’s been going on,” he demands. “and don’t overcomplicate it. you can be straightforward with me.”

his sincerity makes you start over, this time far more candidly. “klahadore used to be a pirate. i was part of his crew. he was my… captain.”

the shame in your voice pulls at zoro’s heartstrings. didn’t you know there was no reason to feel guilty with him? “is that it?” 

you open your mouth to speak but come up empty. all you can do is furrow your eyebrows at his unexpectedly dismissive reaction.

“i knew it,” zoro continues, annoyed. “i knew i’d seen him on a wanted poster before. just didn’t have any proof.”

“wait, so you don’t– you really don’t care?” you ask, still avoiding eye contact. “me being a former black cat pirate doesn’t bother you?”

he shrugs. “you said it yourself. ‘former.’ all that matters is that you got the hell out of there. and away from that creep. would he always put his hands on you like that?”

you blink a couple times, sighing. “his temper was really bad so–”

that seemed to be enough for zoro. “i’ll kill the bastard,” he hisses. “wanted to slice him to bits the moment i saw him grab you.” 

though it’s a violent threat, you can’t help but smile. the idea of zoro being so protective that he’d kill a man just for touching you made you blush. pirate love language, you suppose.

“well, i wouldn’t have stopped you,” you tell him, more than ready to see your former captain go.

zoro clicks his tongue. “nah. could’ve stained your new dress with his blood. i never would have been able to forgive myself.”

“so you do have a soft spot,” you tease.

“only for pretty things.”

“do you mean me or the dress?” 

now it’s zoro’s turn to become bashful. though, his lack of response is an answer in itself. you can’t help but giggle. 

a loud bang from upstairs interrupts your moment with the green-haired man. you assume luffy had gotten his hands on kuro… or vice versa. zoro must be thinking the same thing judging by the way he instinctively rests a hand on the handle of his blade.

“you should go up there,” you tell him. “i’ll stay with kaya.”  

he gives you a nod, though he doesn’t make any effort to leave. he stands there like he wants to say something… or do something. before you can think about it too much, you pull him in by the collar and crash your lips onto his. they’re slightly chapped and taste like the wine that’d come from the cellar – it’s pleasant. his large palms come to rest on your lower back; his hold feels tight and secure. 

when you finally allow yourself to pull away, you’re biting back a smile. “kick his ass for me.” 

“will i get more of that if i do?” asks zoro, wetting his lips. they now taste like the cherry lip gloss you’d borrowed from kaya. he takes a step forward, attempting to close the gap between you two once more.

you shrug, pushing him away by the chest. “go help luffy and we’ll see.”

you both know that means yes.

[gaystardykeco]

fun wednesday night activity: thinking about all the ppl who left me and how much better their lives are because of doing so

[akutasoda]

hold my hand, lean on me

synopsis - jiaoqiu adjusting to domestic life with you

includes - jiaoqiu

warnings - gn!reader, spoilers for 2.5, angst w/ some comfort, fluff, maybe ooc, wc - 1.3k

a/n: i actually cannot get this darn foxian out my mind :( shouts to @thelightofmylife for some vv helpful pointers and information ^^ tbh i feel like this is just 1.3k words of word vomit HAHA

the healers finished informing you of the situation, thanking them you then closed the door to the shared abode. a sigh you didn't know you were holding back escaped alongside a glance down to the papers the healer's handed over. you could read them later, the news followed by the details of it wasn't exactly a pleasant thought, if anything it might be a final push for the tears to start falling.

your thoughts were distracted by the sound of hesitant, shuffling footsteps. turning around, you were met with the sight of jiaoqiu standing idly not too far from you - almost as if he was taking in the surroundings, although now it was more him trying to piece together the memories of what it looked like.

jiaoqiu had arrived back at the yaoqing not too long ago, admittedly rather late, but the luofu's alchemy commission had kept him for a while. he'd been forced immediately to the yaoqing’s alchemy commission as they were now the ones responsible for his treatment plan for the future. a short talk with them had then led to him being escorted back home. to you.

upon arrival, some of the alchemy commission healers explained to you about the entire situation. they kept it short but soon handed you a full document containing everything from “patient’s injuries” to “doctor’s post-charge advice” - each and every sentence pained you more and more, you refused to acknowledge what would've happened if moze hadn't found him, you would have to thank him later.

the healers had asked you to take upon the responsibility of looking after him at home, and in most day to day life scenarios - at least until he adjusted properly. they asked you to keep strict to the “post-charge advice” as otherwise it probably would cause more harm to him, making his healing process longer and maybe even worsening it beyond healing.

“jiao-ge” you called out, to let him know that you were still near. it pained to see the somber look on his face. the last thing jiaoqiu saw wasn't anyone, anywhere or anything he loved. no. it was something he hated, someone he loathed in unfamiliar territory surrounded by no-one he knew.

now he stood in familiar territory, with the person he loved the most. but he couldn't bask in the sights or even see you. all he had was memories to cast images in his mind, to help pretend that nothing was wrong and that he could see what he remembered.

you knew that he wouldn't want you doting on him. jiaoqiu needed to adjust, to learn how to go about his life as usual and you overly fussing over him would only probably annoy him and prolong that.

it had been a long day, any proper conversations could be held tomorrow. to no surprise, jiaoqiu insisted he could get ready and do everything by himself. you granted him that independence. eventually, admittedly with some help, you two were ready for sleep. and even though you were right there beside him, jiaoqiu never felt further from you.

---✩

the process was slow. nobody would've said that it was going to be anything other than that. jiaoqiu very clearly wanted independence. he didn't want to seen as a burden, he chose to do this, and knowing that people were constantly doting on him instead of continuing with their lives made him feel awful.

one of the first things you did was help make your shared abode more compatible with his needs. an easy step was making sure that everywhere was clean and free of obstruction, normally moze always

showed up and helped with cleaning as well. another step was helping jiaoqiu become able to navigate the home on his own, mainly he acted on memory but you needed to make sure that where he frequented was always obstruction free.

occasionally you could hear a bump or hurried shuffling from the room over, each and every time you dropped what you were doing and checked up on him. it was never anything major and if anything it always resulted in jiaoqiu silently cursing at the piece of furniture he walked into.

you two always adopted a verbal calling system at home. should you need to leave the room he was in, you would tell him exactly where you were going and what you were doing - that way he knew where you were. jiaoqiu would also inform you of where he planned on going just in case something happened or he got lost.

although, admittedly, for the first couple of weeks jiaoqiu stuck to you like glue. to him, it was a way to quickly adjust and therefore he wouldn't have to be a burden for long. however jiaoqiu subsequently had developed a rather interesting habit, one neither of you addressed - you because you thought it was sweet and didn't want to embarrass him, him because he didn't want to admit it.

and that was him using his tail as a guidance. at home, it was either curled around your waist, wrist or leg. in public, it lingered around your wrist, so much so that it constantly tickled you. it was a way of him making sure you were there with him, you hadn't left him and he was okay.

although most admittedly it was worse at night. he would hold you close, an ironclad grip that usually you would ask for him to let up but you knew he needed this. tail curled around your waist, preventing you from escaping. in his opinion, you helped him sleep easier, much easier than any fragrances he was prescribed.

however, this always came with a risk. due to residual lupitoxin still in his body, jiaoqiu became frequently prone to nightmares which plagued him constantly. everytime his mind was tricked into believing that the borisin were waiting, patiently looking for an opening to get revenge.

he wakes up because of them, drenched in fear and swear, and because he's so fearful the lupitoxin can take hold easier. suddenly he's tricked into believing that the borisin have found him. unbeknownst to the fact that it's you. so you sometimes take the liberty of sleeping away from him, but then he wakes up to an empty bead but he can hear someone in the room over and when he finds out it was you, sleeping away from him, he becomes consumed with guilt.

a major change for him was his inability to cook anymore. jiaoqiu was determined to do so with his impairment but he needed to learn. nowadays you cook with him. instead of being hushed out of the kitchen, you stood closely beside him, handing him the tools he needed, telling him where you put them so he could find them again on his own.

gently reminding him to lay off the spices when he requested more, he was to avoid spicy foods at all costs for the time being. a hard change, one that he absolutely despised but he knew better than to go against a doctor's order. helping him go out and buy ingredients, listening to what he told you and carrying out the tasks diligently.

---✩

and that was a shortlist of changes. you were very happy to accommodate anything for him, so long as he felt comfortable and loved. it wasn't uncommon for jiaoqiu to experience major lows, it was only natural and you needed to be there for him.

to listen to him, to show him that the support he needed was always a simple ask away - you didn't want to push to dote on him for many reasons. but that was different to showing genuine care and love to him when he started seeing himself as a useless, dependent person.

life would be different. for a while or maybe even forever, perhaps feixiao would strike lucky in her search for a healer that knew how to help. but for now, you two would have to learn how to adjust. to be there for eachother.

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @frankiesteinn

[wandurlvst]

Baby Trouble

ken sato x gn!reader one shot

notes: this is my first time publishing my writing so IM REALLY NERVOUS, but i hope you enjoy 😭 and yes i know ken calls ami for kid advice but let’s just say he called you instead 🤗

warnings: none! just wholesome fluff with slight crack tbh

ever since you could remember you’ve always wanted to raise a family. either that’d be your biological children or adoptive. i guess you could say it came from your own parents—how they were able to raise someone who isn’t themselves so well-

BZZ BZZ BZZ

a buzz pulled you from your thoughts—your phone was ringing from the other end of the couch. you placed the remote of the tv down and checked the contact. it was ken—an old friend of yours. you’ve known him since you were kids and shares many things in common. “i need to work in the morning, ken.” “i know- i know. but i need your help.”

you sighed, “and what could be so important that i’m needed this late?” “just come over.” the call ended, you looked at the black screen and decided to just visit for a minute. it can’t hurt

you exited your vehicle and ascended the stairs. you raised your fist to knock on the door. but before you could, you were pulled inside quickly. “woah!”

“took your sweet time didn’t you?” ken said in a very annoyed tone, “well it didn’t sound like an emergency.” you shrugged, “whatever just follow me.”

“what is this about ken? it’s getting late- and don’t you have a game tomorrow?” “that- that can wait.” he led you two to the giant elevator that led down to his basement. “don’t scream okay?” “what do you mean…?” once the doors opened you were met with a giant pink baby kaiju who was in a large cage. but of course your first instinct was to scream—but ken covered your mouth just before you did. “what did i just say!?” he released your face, “i can’t help it! it’s a kaiju and why is it your house in the first place?”

“you saw what happened after my first game with the giants- and the KDF wanted to take her so…” “you took her instead.” “yeah.” you approached the glass wall of the cage and the baby cried as if she was going to be hurt by you, you all covered your ears and ken jumped in front of you. “mina!” the ai surrounded the cage with images and videos of ken playing baseball—distracting the infant, “so why did you need me here again?”

he sighed, “i need help- or advice on how you raise her.” “i’ve never raised a kaiju, ken.” “i know that! i mean a kid. what would a normal baby need?”

you stepped towards the infant again now that she was distracted, “well she isn’t a normal baby. but she’d need a lot of attention at her age- you’ll need to feed her, wash her, uh- figure out the whole potty training situation, the five s’s- mina could teach you that-“ “we’ve already started.” she chimed in.

“oh and don’t get me started on the constant lack of sleep. now i know i don’t have kids of my own- but from what my parents told me i was a nightmare when i was a baby.” you were in your own world rambling on and on about baby advice—you didn’t notice ken right next to you

“how about we do that?” he commented, you were confused—naturally. “do what?” you turned to him

“raise her. together. like parents.” he noticed you staring at him and he grew nervous that his idea was ridiculous, “i mean- since you’re basically the expert i could learn along the way- i don’t want you doing all the hard work. but i understand if you’d say no- you have a lot on your plate already“

“ken.”

“yeah?”

“i’ll help you.” you smiled, “it won’t be easy but, it could be fun.” this time you calmly called to the infant. introducing yourself. the baby smiled and was entertained by you. ken smiled at the immediate bond you two had and he knew it would work

[welty4ng]

TEAR MY WORLD APART!

call transcript; “adapting is never easy. jiaoqiu supposes he only tolerates it because you’re with him”

cw; spoilers for the current quest !!! f!reader, NSFW (mdni) !! hurt/comfort, fingering (soft sex tbh), not proofread, ugh jiaoqiu i love you so much, fic below the cut, 4.7k words

When Jiaoqiu first returns home, there’s a heavy weight in his chest.

It felt horribly uncomfortable, having Moze walk him all the way from the docks to his house. It felt even worse to have his companion fish his keys from his pockets.

In his mind’s eye, he knows where everything is. He knows where you keep your plants and how to avoid running into them; still, he tips one over, the crunch of dirt beneath his feet ringing sickeningly in his ears. He knows where every corner of his house is; yet, he hits his shoulder when he rounds a corner a little too soon.

Shamefully, it takes him longer than he’d like to find someplace to sit. He’d never thought it to be so humiliating, to realize he spent so many years seeing the layout to his own home without memorizing it.

He’s unsure for how long he sits, the silence deafening and the darkness blinding. There’s a gnawing, ever-growing pit in his stomach at the realization that this might very well be the rest of his life. A shiver runs down his spine. He doesn’t think he’ll enjoy having his senses heightened any more than they already were.

Jiaoqiu jolts when he hears the front door open, his ears perking up. The sound of your footsteps reaches his ears before you call out his name, your voice gentler than he’s ever heard it.

“Hey,” you say, hushed. Jiaoqiu shudders when your hand finds his knee, trying to soothe him. His hands ball into fists on his lap.

“Hey,” he echoes, slightly strained. The weight in his chest grows heavier when you thumb at his knee. It’s horrifying, how he can practically picture the pity on your face — he’d never thought he’d be at the receiving end of it.

“General Feixaio told me what happened,” you whisper. Jiaoqiu’s ears twitch when you cup his face and he immediately nestles into your palm. Your thumb is gentle against his skin, caressing his cheek with the utmost of care. “I’m so sorry, love.”

There’s a lump in his throat, a million words on the tip of his tongue — ‘I’m okay. I’ll be fine. It’s nothing serious. I just need to adapt.’

All that he musters is a quiet, shaky, “I want to see you.”

Jiaoqiu wonders if you look as broken as he sounds.

Being molded into a homebody is not unideal, but Jiaoqiu has far too much to do.

He wonders if that’s why Feixiao sent Moze to inform him of the leave of absence he’d been granted.

It should be welcome. It is, to an extent, when guilt doesn’t chip away at his conscience; when he doesn’t feel like he’s a burden—

The clatter of pots makes him jump, his tail puffing up before matting back down. He exhales, low and unsteady as you call out a sheepish, “Sorry.”

Jiaoqiu doesn’t think he can complain. Not when you’ve carved out time from your schedule to look after him — to help him adjust, or whatever bullshit Moze claimed Feixiao had said. So he’ll endure the ringing in his ears when something is just a little too loud, endure the tangy, bitter smell of something burning, and offer a patient smile, followed by a soft, “It’s okay.”

Because he knows you’re trying.

Cooking was never your thing. He’d never let it be, because, why would he ever let you dirty your hands when he could do it instead?

Part of himself feels guilty that you’ve been forced into a myriad of things that fell under his attention. It’s an ever-growing sense of uselessness that weighs on his chest, burrowing deeper with every ‘tap’ of the knife on the cutting board.

He presses his back against the wall, trying to suppress the familiar urge to take over the cooking for you. A knot forms in his throat when he hears you softly hiss, his eyes yearning to open and treat whatever wound you must’ve gotten.

When a soft rush of water reaches his ears, he inches off the wall just enough, taking a step toward the noise. It feels slightly disorienting, trying to guide himself simply through hearing. Still, he tries, awkwardly stumbling in your direction with an outstretched hand.

A shaky exhale leaves his lips when he touches your shoulder, his tail awkwardly flicking to the side when you jolt at the contact.

“Let me help,” he whispers, his fingers instinctively squeezing your shoulder. There’s something so horrid about being able to hear your breaths before you even speak. He loathes how clear he can hear your breath falter as you hesitate.

“Jiaoqiu, you—”

“Please.” He’s tired of feeling useless. He has enough to deal with, now that his eyesight is gone indefinitely. He wants to help — to be of use, even if it’s just a little.

The weight in his stomach sinks deeper when you gingerly clutch his wrist. For a moment, he expects you to drop his hand and lead him back to the spot on the wall he’s claimed as his own. Instead, you bring his hand up to your face, letting his knuckles brush against your skin.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” you murmur, gentle as you press a kiss to the back of his hand. Jiaoqiu wonders what expression you’re making; wonders if it’s pity or sympathy.

He takes a step closer, his front bumping against yours before his free hand shoots out to hold onto the edge of the counter for balance. “Let me do something, at least,” he pleads, a vague hint of desperation lacing his words.

Your breaths fan his face, tickling his skin in a way that has his tail swaying.

“Please,” he whispers, trying to keep his voice from wavering.

There’s a brief moment of hesitance before you ask, “What do you want to do?”

Jiaoqiu’s heart hammers in his chest, a ticklish sort of hope flooding his being. His hand trembles against your face, softly squeezing your own when you grasp it.

“Anything,” he breathes out. “It doesn’t have to be cooking or cleaning or — just let me do anything.”

When your grip on his hand falters, he grasps it tighter, resting them on your cheek. The smell of something burnt fills his senses, but he can’t find it in himself to care; not when he can feel the faint warmth of your skin. “I want to be of use to you.”

His ears twitch when you sigh, his hand trembling lightly against your face. He can imagine the expression you’re making — pursed lips and furrowed brows, deep in thought. Still, he yearns to see it.

“You can help me stir the pot,” you offer, a hint of hesitance to your voice.

The weight in his chest lightens just a little, his fingers tightening around your own in a light squeeze. “Alright.”

It’s a shred of normalcy, he supposes; even if he’s just swirling a ladle. For a moment, it reminds him of a simpler time, back when he was younger and still learning to fend for himself. The soft ‘tap’ of the knife against the cutting board fills his ears, accompanied by your faint humming.

Will you let him keep helping you? Jiaoqiu can’t help but wonder. Would you let him stop being a burden? Do you even think of him as a burden? He hopes — prays — you don’t. He hopes you let him stay by your side, even if all he can do is rot.

It’s all he wants.

So, when you lead him to your dining table, trying to distract him from the scent of burnt meat, he’ll entertain you. He’ll keep his complaints to himself, even if the soup is far too salty; the noodles are a little too undercooked; and the cubed beef is a bit too charred.

You’re both trying, he reminds himself. Perhaps that’s why he can’t find it in himself to care much when he can hear the ‘snap’ of a noodle between his molars. There’s a slight tingle in his tongue by the time he’s done eating.

Still, Jiaoqiu doesn’t complain. Instead, he smiles, softening when your hand grasps his own beneath the table, squeezing twice in a comforting gesture.

“Thank you,” he whispers, hushed. When your breath hitches, a lump forms in his chest. Quickly, he adds, “For everything.”

For a moment, he supposes the only good thing about being blind is that he doesn’t have to see you cry. Though, he supposes it’s worse, hearing you hold back from it — hearing you struggle to remain composed.

When he opens his arms, you rush into him, leaving your chair behind and opting to perch in his lap — just like you’d always done. He holds you closer, instinctively; though, he rubs at your back with hesitance, almost trying to map out the length of your back.

He shudders when you wet the side of his neck. It feels more present, now that his world is shrouded in pitch black. Your cries sound louder, even when quiet and muffled by his skin.

“I’m sorry.” Jiaoqiu’s unsure if the apology is his or yours, the weight growing tenfold in his chest and ringing in his ears.

He can’t tell if the sobs are still yours, either.

Jiaoqiu learns to rise when you do. His routine morphs into your own, despite your insistence that he rest longer.

Staying in bed doesn’t feel the same without you, he’d argued. You were quick to relent after that.

His feet drag on the floor behind yours, his grip tight around the back of your nightshirt. There’s a dull ache in his head. He bumps into you when you stop, a quick apology tumbling from his lips before he can stop it.

When the sound of rushing water reaches his ears, they twitch, recognizing the familiarity. His hands perch on the edge of the counter, letting go of your clothes. It never takes long for him to hear the soft rustle of fabric falling onto the floor. It never takes long for him to fumble with his buttons, either, before you come to his aid.

“Will you help me wash my hair again?” he asks, quiet as you ease the fabric off his shoulders.

“If you want me to,” you reply, gentle as you help him out of his pants. When your fingers brush against his lower abdomen, he shivers, his tail puffing up as he sucks in a sharp inhale.

Jiaoqiu’s hand leaves the counter, moving to cup your cheek in a practiced (albeit clumsy) movement. Part of himself still feels like a fumbling fool when you move his hand just a little lower, correcting the placement. Still, you never mention it.

A voice in the back of his head tells him he should reject your offer for help — tells him he’s been more than enough of a burden by making you spend more time ensuring he’s clean than you do yourself. Then, a gentler, kinder voice reminds him you’d expressed your satisfaction at being able to aid him. Pride never stands a chance, when it comes to your delight; he realized this soon after meeting you.

So, he lets his finger brush against the apple of your cheek, his voice softening as he says, “I do.”

It’s become almost instinctive, following you. There’s always a certain gentleness with which you hold his hands, guiding him forward as you step into the shower. He hears the quiet scuff of a stool (your insistence, not his) being dragged across the tiles. Your hands remain gentle as you guide him to sit.

“Tell me if I scrub too hard, okay?” The statement is almost unnecessary, truly. You’ve never once treated him with something other than overwhelming delicateness — like he’s made of porcelain. Jiaoqiu considered himself tough, before losing his eyesight. He thinks that shell was stripped from him alongside his vision. He wonders if you know it, too — wonders if that’s why you touch him like he’s seconds away from breaking beneath your touch.

Still, all he says is, “Okay.” Then, after a moment, “Thank you.”

A lump forms in his throat at the beat of silence, his heart hammering in his chest. Aeons, he wants to see your expression — he needs it so desperately. It’s become hard to tell whether he says the right thing or not. Sometimes, he wonders if he oversteps. There are a million words at the tip of his tongue, all of them longing to spill out.

Something soft presses against his forehead, gentle and so, so soft. Two hands cup his jaw, holding him in place before drawing him in. His arms wrap around your middle almost instinctively, his face burrowing into your chest.

“I want to see you,” he whispers, his words muffled by your skin.

Your lips press against the top of his head, tender. Jiaoqiu melts when you cup the back of his head, holding him in place. He wonders if you realize how soothing your heartbeat is to him, currently. Your fingers weave through peachy strands, washing out the shampoo suds from his hair.

“I know,” you reply, your voice barely audible. “We’ll figure it out, love.”

A soft noise rumbles in the back of his throat, his ears twitching and tickling your skin. “Promise?”

“Promise,” you whisper, kissing the top of his head one last time.

For a moment, something akin to hope blossoms in his chest. It’s the first time he’s felt it, since losing his vision, Jiaoqiu notes.

Normal still feels out of place, though not as much anymore. It’s become a faint, lingering feeling in the back of his mind.

There’s still a vague sense of discomfort at being surrounded by darkness constantly. Jiaoqiu supposes it’s only through the habit of touching that he reminds himself he’s not alone.

He’s only grateful you indulge him, even if it must be a bother to have him hovering and pestering just to stick to you.

The streets of the Yaoqing — have they ever been this noisy? Jiaoqiu can’t tell. It’s uncomfortable, how loudly everything rings in his ears. He thinks he would rather trade the boisterous noise for the bright, vivid colors he used to complain about.

“We’ll head home soon,” you reassure, squeezing his hand as tight as you can. For a moment, he wonders if his distress is palpable (he concludes that, for you, it must be).

“You shouldn’t rush,” he replies, his words trailing off into a quick apology when someone bumps into his shoulder. His hand squeezes yours — the mere thought of separating from you makes his heartbeat spike in anxiety. Jiaoqiu softly clears his throat, quickly adding, “I’m fine, really.”

Neither of you seem to believe it, though you don’t call him out on the lie. Instead, you slow your pace even more to loop your arm with his.

“I was thinking,” you start, pulling him just a little closer to you as you walk, “We could get the ingredients for those noodles you like.”

Jiaoqiu hums, trying to ignore the way the corners of his lips curl up. “That would be nice,” he says, trying to keep his steps matched to yours.

“You could help me make them,” you offer, gently tugging him closer before someone brushes against his arm.

His steps falter for a moment. When he takes a second too long to reply, you rush to add, “Only if you want to.”

A lump forms in his throat, agreement sitting on the tip of his tongue. All he does is exhale. His heart hammers in his chest, thundering loud in his ears. You’re looking at him — he doesn’t need his vision to tell. A hushed, barely audible whisper leaves his lips when you call his name.

“Is it still too soon?” you ask, a hint of worry in your voice. Your hold on him tightens just a little. “I-I figured, maybe it had been long enough to try and ease you back into things you used to do. We can just pretend I didn’t say any—”

“I want to,” Jiaoqiu says, his voice wavering. He isn’t sure when his breath picked up, but he can feel his chest heaving. His tail lightly sways when you place your hand above his own, thumbing at his knuckles.

“Okay.” Your voice feels as soft as your touch. It tickles his nerves, sending a flutter through the pit of his stomach and down to his core.

He leans down, pressing his forehead to yours (a jolt of satisfaction in his chest at the lack of clumsiness). His ears twitch when the pad of your thumb lightly presses into his knuckle. 

“Okay,” he echoes, trying to match your tone. Jiaoqiu softens, gently rubbing his forehead against your own.

Warmth blooms in his chest when you whisper. The market’s ruckus feels like white noise as your words ring in his ears. Like instinct, his lips part before replying in earnest. “I love you, too.”

He wonders if it’s your face that’s burning up, or if it’s his.

It pains him a little, just how long it’s taken him to ask this of you.

Jiaoqiu feels you shift beneath him, adjusting your position before wrapping your legs around his waist again. He softly exhales, tracing the slope of your cheek with the utmost of care. His heart hammers away in his chest, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Don’t move,” he whispers, breathless as he pokes at the fat of your cheek. When you sigh, he lets himself cup your face, the pad of his thumb lightly pressing into the hollow beneath your eye.

“How much longer are you going to do this for?” you ask, curiosity lacing your voice. Jiaoqiu softens, his tail swaying when you lean into his touch.

“Until I’m sure I’ve memorized everything.”

“I thought you already knew my face by heart?” you reply. The corners of his lips curl up into a smile when he hears yours. He gently pinches your cheek, drawing a soft chuckle from your lips.

“I do,” he says, loud enough so it’s meant for your ears only. “I just want to make sure I know it, deep in my soul.”

A soft hum leaves his lips when you squeeze his waist. His hand moves, his thumb tracing the shell of your ear.

“How smooth,” you mumble, brushing a few peachy strands away from his face.

“I want to make sure it’s all like I remember,” he murmurs, complying when you pull him up with your legs. Jiaoqiu’s ears twitch when his nose bumps against yours, a breathless chuckle slipping past his lips.

His hand trails down, his thumb brushing your lower lip. When you gently kiss the digit, his breath hitches. He cups your jaw, trying to find an angle. You simply follow his lead, letting him lead.

He thumbs at the corner of your lips, your breath fanning against his skin. His mouth presses against yours in the softest — faintest — of kisses. When you sigh, he lets himself mold against you. His tongue traces the seam of your lips, his tail swaying when you grant him access.

There’s a hint of desperation behind his actions. Jiaoqiu wonders if you can tell, by the way his tongue licks at your mouth — almost like he’s trying to memorize the way you taste.

He barely gives you any reprieve, breaking the kiss to catch the slightest of breaths before he’s attached to your lips once more. When his name leaves your lips between kisses, heat pools in his stomach. It’s a feeling he’d thought dormant since he’d lost his sight.

Jiaoqiu doesn’t think he’d mind its resurgence — not after the way you part with a whined gasp, struggling to catch your breath. His lips press against the corner of your mouth, then lower, until he’s kissing a trail down to the spot beneath your jaw.

When you struggle to hold back a moan, heat shoots through his veins. Your hands find the back of his head, your fingers tangling in peachy strands. He complies when you help him up, cupping his face before capturing his lips with your own.

For a moment, Jiaoqiu wonders if you taste sweeter than he remembers.

“Guide me.”

“Hm?”

A soft, huffed chuckle escapes Jiaoqiu’s lips. His hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb applying a delicate pressure beneath your eye. He feels you shift on the bed, your legs tangling with his own.

“Guide me,” he repeats, his ears twitching when you yawn. A gentle noise rumbles in his chest, his body pressing closer to yours and his hand moving lower to let his thumb press against the corner of your mouth. Then, he leans down, his lips replacing the digit.

Heat pools in his stomach at the sigh you let out. His tail lightly sways, the ends puffing out when he nips at your lower lip. “You’ve been patient for long enough,” he murmurs, gently ghosting a kiss over your lips.

“Jiaoqiu—”

“No excuses,” he says, “Please.”

After a light kiss, he adds, “Let me do this for you.”

For a moment, he wonders if it’s your heartbeat he hears, instead of his own. He lets his hand leave your face to rest on the underside of your breast, relishing how your breaths stutter.

“You’ve done more than enough for me,” Jiaoqiu reasons, his voice tender as he moves his face closer to the crook of your neck. “I ought to express my gratitude,” he whispers, noting how you shudder as his breath tickles your skin. He presses his lips against the underside of your jaw — right at the spot he knows makes your breath hitch and your thighs clench. “Shouldn’t I?”

“I didn’t do anything with the intention of getting something in return,” you say. He catches on to the quiver to your tone when his ears twitch. His teeth graze your jaw, soft and experimental as he thumbs at the lower part of your breast.

“Isn’t that reason enough to accept my gratitude with open arms, then?”

You shudder, your hand moving to perch on his shoulder when he trails kisses down to your collarbone. “We both know what your gratitude entails, Jiaoqiu.”

He softly clicks his tongue, letting his canines graze against your skin. The hand on your chest inches upward, moving until his thumb reaches your pert nipple. “Even more reason for you to accept, hm?”

His touch softens when you sigh.

“Isn’t it a little too soon—?”

“I think I should be the one to decide that,” Jiaoqiu mumbles. He presses a soft kiss to your collarbone. 

There’s a slight hesitance to your actions — how you seem to mull over his words. His tail sways, lightly rubbing against the bedsheets as your fingers run through his locks.

“Still, I—” your breath catches, your words interrupted by a wanton whine when delicately rolls your nipple between his fingers. 

Heat shoots through his nerves, fueling the fire in his stomach as he pictures your expression — your face all scrunched up, but your lips parted as you pant. Jiaoqiu slows the barrage of kisses on your skin, softy exhaling.

He wants to see it, so, so desperately.

He wants to feel and touch and see. His ears twitch when you sigh his name, breathless. A soft growl rumbles in his chest in response before he presses an open-mouthed kiss on your collarbone.

“Let me take care of you,” he quietly pleads. “You shouldn’t have to suppress your own needs for my own.”

“I’m not—”

Jiaoqiu nips at your collarbone to cut off your words, his tongue gently soothing the spot. “Don’t lie to me,” he murmurs, his words slightly muffled by your skin. “Not when I hear clearer than I ever could.”

Your grip on his hair falters, your breath hitching. He wonders what expression you wear — are you flustered or taken aback? Or is it something entirely different? 

“Just because I’m blind doesn’t mean I can’t touch you like I used to,” he breathes out, gently rolling your nipple between his fingers. You tug on his hair, your breaths uneven. His lips trail kisses along the expanse of your collarbone. “You just need to guide me.”

His fingers leave your nipple, drawing a soft whine from your lips as he trails them down to your hip.

“It’s about time you replace your fingers with my own, after all,” he rasps, kissing a path back up to your jaw, “Isn’t it?”

His ears twitch when a strained whimper slips past your lips. He nips at your skin before pressing a feather-light kiss on the spot. Heat floods the pit of his stomach when you nod against his head, your hand resting atop the one on your hip.

“You’ve been more than patient, love,” Jiaoqiu whispers, his tail twitching against the sheets as you help his hand down between your thighs. He shudders an exhale, his fingers inquisitive as they search for your clit. His breaths become heavy, fanning against your jaw in a way so ticklish that your thighs instinctively press together.

A choked whine leaves your lips, your fingers curling in his hair. “‘s n-nothing,” you murmur, your voice trembling.

He gently clicks his tongue, his thumb pressing against you once he finds your bud. “It’s not ‘nothing,’” he replies, rubbing his nose along your jaw as he begins to circle your clit. “It’s never easy to care for a patient.”

You mewl, lightly jolting when his index finger prods around in search of your entrance. “W-wait,” you stammer, your hand moving to aid his own. His tail thumps faintly against the bed when his fingertips ghost above your folds.

“Here we go,” he whispers, unable to keep the elation from his voice. For a moment, he wonders if you’ve realized the selfish intentions behind his idea to thank you.

Though, he’s sure that even if you have, you probably don’t mind. Jiaoqiu knows how tired you must be from fingering yourself in his stead. Your fingers were never as good as his at bringing you pleasure, after all.

The corners of his lips curl up into a small smirk, his finger pumping in and out of you with practiced ease. “That’s nice, isn’t it, love?” he asks, his voice a soft coo.

“M-mhm,” you shakily hum, slowly rocking your hips against his digit to match his pace.

“Your sweet cunt just needed my fingers, didn’t it?”

He can’t hold back the purr in the back of his throat when you nod, your fingers fisting his peachy strands when he pushes a second finger into your folds.

“N-needed them s-so bad—!” you cry, your voice cracking. Your free hand grasps at his forearm, your breath quick and uneven pants. “‘s never the same when t-they’re mine…”

Jiaoqiu gently shushes you, peppering kisses against the underside of your jaw. “I know, love,” he coos, his voice full of sympathy. “I’ll take care of it for you.”

You moan, your breath hitching as your walls flutter around his fingers. When they curl, you cry, your hips desperately rocking against his hand. “J-Jiaoqiu—”

“Close already?” he asks, though he fails to hide the smile from his voice. You huff and he chuckles, a sense of satisfaction settling in his gut. How long has it been since he’s felt that — felt anything other than a weight in his chest?

Jiaoqiu can’t be bothered to wonder. Not when your cunt spasms around his fingers, your broken cries and moans rising in volume the more he curls his digits against the spongy spot in your folds.

“That’s it, love,” he breathes out, his voice a heavy rasp. “Let go for me.”

When you cry, he can only picture the expression on your face — can only imagine you look just like you’ve always done when you cum. His chest aches for just a moment, then lightens when you mewl his name.

“T-thank you,” you whisper, your words slightly slurred. Jiaoqiu softens when you kiss the top of his head. 

“I should be the one thanking you,” he replies, hushed. He nuzzles into you, slowly pulling his fingers out of your cunt. His chest rises and falls, weightless for the first time in weeks. “For everything.”