#one piece costume contest

[swampstew]

Pspspspsps I forgot to post this commission from @yamiyamiart based off this 2023 halloween costume contest one shot I wrote for the big bad ;)

[hannahbarberra162]

Best in Show (OS Halloween Special ft. Heart Pirates)

on Ao3

GN!Reader x Law ft. your favorite shitheads. No smut, all fluff.

A Halloween silly. Suspend your disbelief. Extra sillies at the end.

WC: 5.8k

Warnings: none, all treats no tricks.

You've spent months preparing for the annual Pirate's Ball party on your island. Your costume is nearly perfect, you want to win first place. A few newfound friends help you along the way to victory.

~

You cursed as you entered the packed shop, trying to squeeze yourself between the many people all competing for last minute Halloween costumes. You were so annoyed at yourself for losing the final piece of your costume for tonight’s Halloween party. You’d completed your costume weeks ago and as you were doing the final try on, you realized you couldn’t find the hat you needed to complete your look. You spent hours scouring your apartment, but it was like the hat had gone to another dimension. Cursing, you decided to brave the costume shop on Halloween to try and find a replacement. It was a fool’s errand, but you really wanted to win best costume this year.

Your island was known for its annual Halloween parties that lasted through the whole month of October. During the other 11 months of the year, your island was boring, nothing of note ever happened. But during October, there were parties held every night, culminating in the raucous, rowdy, rambunctious costume party you’d be going to tonight.  Tourists came from all over the Grand Line to enjoy the week leading up to the Pirate’s Ball. The annual theme of the Ball was Marines and Pirates, and you had to be dressed up to attend. It was the highlight of the year, and winning the costume contest was a huge mark of distinction. There were several categories, best individual costume, best couple, best group, and best crew. You’d spent months perfecting your costume, you put your best effort in to finally win best individual costume after years of trying. 

Your friends would be going to the party too, but they weren’t as invested in winning as you were. They were going as some of the Strawhat Pirates, a popular choice for partygoers. At any given pirate themed party, there were sure to be a bunch of Nami and Robins, Boa Hancocks, Portgas D. Ace’s, Buggies, and even a bunch of Sanjis. Those costumes were easy to make at home - and they were also fairly sexy. You’d offered them to be members of the Heart Pirates with you, but they didn’t want to wear the iconic full body boiler suits. 

Which is why you needed your Trafalgar Law costume to be absolutely perfect. Dressing up as Law was easy in principle, all you needed were jeans and a white tank top. He was a popular choice for a costume, but difficult to get right. But there were a lot of details in the costume that needed to be reproduced in order to be accurate. Law had a lot of tattoos, and not just the famous ones on his hands. He had Kikoku, his giant sword, and his feathery cowled jacket. Not to mention, his earrings, his hat, the markings on his pants…there was a lot you had to get right to have an exact Law costume. And you’d spent weeks upon weeks making sure you had everything exactly right, you were going to be the best Law at the party.

But now, all of that was for naught, because you’d lost your precious, fluffy, puffy, white Trafalgar Law hat. You’d spent so long on it too, looking through different versions of his wanted posters to make sure that your hat was realistic. It made you want to cry, thinking of all the hours spent hunched over the stupid hat, adding dot after dot. The shop sold new and used wares, maybe you’d be lucky like you were the time you found a Kikoku replica during the off season. You didn’t think your luck would get you that far but you were hopeful that there would be a white hat you could quickly paint on in the costume shop. Even then you weren’t sure that it would be dry in time for the party, causing you to groan in frustration once more. 

Taking a deep breath, you pushed your way through the throngs of people towards the hat section. It was in the back of the store, near the try-on rooms, so you had to shove your way past other customers looking for last minute Admiral or pirate costumes. Finally making it to where you needed to go, you hurriedly looked through the hat trees, trying to find anything that would work. You saw some Chopper hats, some Sabo hats, a bunch of Portgas D. Ace hats, even a Mihawk hat, but nothing that would work for Trafalgar Law. You were close to tears, both of anger and sadness, when you saw It. It was puffy, white, with the leopard spots that were so hard to reproduce. It even was broken in the middle of the brim, like his was. It was a perfect Trafalgar Law hat.

It was sitting on top of a glass table by the try on stalls, along with other clothes that had been discarded by would-be buyers. You quickly snatched the hat, still warm from whoever had tried it on before, and stuffed it under your arm. You needed to buy it and get out of the store quickly, in case whoever set it down had any second thoughts. Pushing your way to the checkout counter you saw one of your friends, Tim, in retail hell working the register. Holding up the hat, you made eye contact with them and threw down your Berri by the register. All the hats were the same price, you’d bought many from the store before. Tim grunted, taking your money, as some lady argued about the price of the Koby costume she was buying for her son.

“Thanks, Tim. See you tonight!” you yelled over the din of customers scrambling for last minute costumes. 

“Remember, pregame at Zoey’s!” he replied, ignoring the growing indignation of the customer in front of him. You didn’t envy his position, but as a nurse you’d already put in your hours with shitty people for the week. You had the day and tomorrow off, and you were going to enjoy it. Sure, you had to trade working New Years to get it off…for the next three years…but if you won the contest tonight, it would be worth it. 

Clutching the hat to your chest, you pushed your way out of the store with your prize. You were elated, finally something had gone your way! The first half of the week had been a total shitshow, literally. As a nurse, you were familiar with the various fluids the human body had to offer, but that didn’t mean you wanted to see them all on your clothes. Or shoes. Or hair. It had been a rough few shifts, but the Pirate’s Ball was your guiding light. Walking briskly, you headed home to try on your completed costume and get ready for the night’s activities.

A few hours later, you were on your way to Zoey’s with Kikoku slung over your shoulders. You’d spent endless amounts of time in front of the mirror, painting Law’s signature tattoos over your skin. Your costume was exact, you’d practiced his mannerisms, you’d even brought a little LED light to put in your hand for his Devil Fruit power. Opening the door to Zoey’s apartment, you declared “SHAMBLES!” and stepped inside. Your friends, in various states of pregaming, applauded you. You’d had the same group of friends for a few years now, some from nursing school, some from university, some locals from town. 

“Incredible! You look just like him!” Zoey said, holding your hand to spin you in a circle.

“Thank you Zoey-ya, I spent so long on this, but it’s gonna be worth it,” you said with determination, “I’m gonna win Best Pirate.” You made your declaration more official by unsheathing your metal Kikoku and drawing it like Law did. Of course, your Kikoku was dull and not functional, but it still looked cool. Laughing, Zoey handed you a drink, and the night began in earnest. 

An hour later, you were tipsy and waiting in line with your friends to get into the Pirate’s Ball. You eyed the competition with a growing knot in your stomach. You hadn’t prepared for the competition to be this good. Showing your ticket to the bouncer, you and your friends were allowed into the party. You’d been to the venue many times before, not just during the Pirate’s Ball. The stage was at the back of the main floor, with stairs on either side going to the upper deck. Most of the place was open dance floor, with the bar situated by the main entrance. The venue had been decorated to look like the deck of the Oro Jackson, complete with sails hanging from the ceiling. The dim lights of the bar and the bumping music shrouded the attendees with a perfect amount of anonymity to give in to wild desires. 

Most of the guests had come in conventional pirate costumes. You saw a ton of Portgas D. Aces, Boas, and Buggys. As expected, there were also a lot of Namis and Sanjis, Robins, Rogers, Marcos, and Zoros. There were other pirates represented too, like Hongo, Rayleigh, Cracker, Bartolomeo, and Thatch, but for the most part people dressed up as the regular fan favorites. You went up to the bar to get yourself another drink, in the hopes of finding some liquid courage. 

You were confident that you looked good, but you weren’t all that comfortable being on stage. It was a requirement of the competition that all entrants present their costumes in front of the audience in addition to the judges. A lot of people had fun with it, acting like the pirates or Marines that they dressed up as. It added an element of showmanship to the event, people imitating the pirates who were so often in the news and changing the course of the world. It was important to do well on the presentation because a particularly strong performance could make up for any inconsistencies in costumes.

Walking up to the table with the sign up for the costume contest, you saw that the list of individual costumes was already in the teens. The list for couples was even longer, it was the most popular event of the night. However, the one for groups was the shortest, with only a few names listed. Contestants needed a minimum of three people to enter as a group but couldn’t be the entire crew. Wishing again that your friends had wanted to join you, you scanned the crowd and sipped your drink.

Sipping turned to gulping as you saw the competition at hand. There was an unbelievable Big Mom, an outstanding Mihawk, an excellent Crocodile, and even a really well executed Franky complete with robotic arms. Your likelihood of winning the individual competition was dwindling before your eyes. Now on your second drink at the bar, you wondered if you’d be able to find two other people willing to be in a group with you. You’d found a bunch of Luffys, but no one was dressed as Eustass Kid. There was a Bepo milling through the crowd, but you’d already talked to him. He was in a “First Mates” group with a Zoro and a Killer. Besides, his costume wasn’t even that good, you thought. The insignia on the boiler suit wasn’t correctly placed and the orange of his boiler suit wasn’t the right shade. 

Swaying to the music, you were trying to enjoy your time and keep yourself from overthinking. Your  new strategy was to drink until your worries went away, which was why you were already on your third cocktail. Whereas earlier on you had been leaning against the wall with your arms crossed, like Law probably would, but now you danced with your friends and chatted with other party goers. The real Law would probably have an aneurysm from so much socialization, but you’d lost the plot anyway. You’d deluded yourself into thinking you could win this year, but at least you could have fun at the party. You were finishing off your drink when you saw them from the bottom of your glass.

A Shachi and a Penguin, on the first floor by the stage. Their costumes were impeccable, exactly replicating the real pirates you’d read so much about. The Shachi had even put caps on his teeth to mirror the sharp bite of the pirate he was emulating. The Penguin’s hat was exactly right, and they even had the tattoos that the real pirates did, something most people missed in their costumes. Now on the other side of tipsy, you had the bravery to come up to your “brothers” from the North Blue. Stomping down the stairs, you approached the Shachi and Penguin like the Captain you were. You hoped they were maybe a duo, or going for best couple, and were available for a group costume.

“Shachi-ya, Penguin-ya,” you intoned in your best imitation of Law’s deep voice, “join me for the group contest.” The pair looked at one another, but it was difficult to decipher their reactions since the Shachi was wearing his iconic triangle sunglasses and the Penguin’s eyes were obscured by his hat, just like the real pirates. “I’m j-just kidding,” you said, breaking character. “I was hoping you guys would want to join me for the costume contest, maybe for a group entry? There would be three of us, and your costumes are immaculate,” you said, gesticulating a little too much. The Shachi grinned widely, showcasing his pointed teeth.

“Why, Captain, I wasn’t expecting to see you at the party,” he said, looking you over. “Peng, I think we have the time to help out our dear brother, right? And look, you even have our Captain’s hat,” he exclaimed, nudging the Penguin.

“Of course I do,” you scoffed, “I’m Trafalgar D. Water Law, Captain of the Heart Pirates. I always wear this h-hat. And this scowl.” 

“We are at your beck and call, Captain,” the Penguin said, saluting you. “Tell us what to do and we’ll follow your orders, like always.” 

You laughed and clapped your hands. This was great! You checked with Shachi to make sure they weren’t signed up for another bracket and once you confirmed, you ran to put your names on the registry. They hadn’t told you their real names, so you just put the names of the pirates along with your civilian name. With all the drinks flowing and people getting loose, the hosts would understand if a few names weren’t exactly right.

Hurrying back to your new crewmates, you found the Shachi and Penguin looking at the bar menu. Since they were now working for you (and you felt indebted to them for agreeing so easily to join in the contest) you decided to treat them. You’d worked a lot of overtime in the weeks leading up to the Ball and you had plenty of Berri to burn on drinks.

Clapping them on the shoulders, you had to yell in order to be heard over the noise of the bar. “Boys-ya! Order what you want! Drinks are on me tonight!” Grinning at one another, the men saluted you enthusiastically.

“Aye aye Captain!” 

“Order me something too, whatever Law…I mean whatever you know I like,” you hollered to Penguin.

“Yes, Sir!” Penguin agreed, flashing you a dimpled smile. If you hadn’t known they were wearing costumes, you would have thought they were the real Heart pirates. You’d spend months looking for a wig the exact color of Shachi’s hair but never found one, unlike the Shachi in front of you. Talking with one another easily, the two men obviously were friends outside of the party and quickly brought you a drink. Your face soured as the heavy stout hit your taste buds.

“What’s wrong Captain? Not enjoying your favorite drink tonight?” Shachi asked, gently nudging your ribs with his elbow.

“Of course not, I, Trafalgar D. Water Law, love this terrible beer,” you declared solemnly, to the laughter of the men. With so much alcohol in your system already you could tolerate the dark stout. Besides, it would help for the contest that was about to start if it really was the Captain’s favorite drink. 

“Hey, how do you know the Captain’s full name?” Penguin asked while sipping the appletini he ordered.

“Oh, um, I r-read all the articles he publishes,” you answered while swigging from your beer. “He publishes his full name on his sci-scientific papers.” You wanted to talk to the Shachi and Penguin more about what to do for the contest but the crowd had already quieted for the MCs to begin hosting the competition. The three of you huddled together near your larger group of friends and waited for your turn to be called up to the stage. 

Watching the show made you glad you’d removed yourself from the solo competition. The individual bracket had a splendid turn out and you got to enjoy performances from many “pirates.” You thought the two standouts were the Big Mom who pretended to give birth to dolls, as well as an incredibly executed Perona who even brought a Kumae doll with her and had a "tantrum" on stage. Your stomach churned with the knowledge that you’d be the one on the stage soon which made your attention wander from the stage. Soon, the individual and couples segments had run their course and it was time for the group presentations. 

You couldn’t stand still as you waited for your turn in the group, stagefright consuming your thoughts. Shachi and Penguin, both on their third drink, were lounging and chatting and unaffected by the coming spotlight.

“Hey, Cap, you alright there?” Shachi asked while swirling his Old Fashioned.

“Y-yeah, just…I don’t like being in the spotlight,” you replied while peeking to the stage, watching a goth family of Perona, Zoro, and Mihawk pretend to bicker.

“Neither does the real Law,” Penguin assured you while patting your back. 

“Yeah, he only likes to show off in battle,” agreed Shachi, laying his arm across your shoulder. Your brow furrowed at the information.

“How do you know that? I’ve never heard anything like that and I think I’ve read everything about the man that’s been printed,” you asked.

“We..uh, watch every snailfilm we can find on him....we’re...um, superfans!” exclaimed Penguin.

“Yeah! And uh, doesn’t it seem like him too? He can be so humble, ” Shachi remarked with a serious nod.

“You’re right, it would be in character. What should we do when we’re on the stage? I’ll go first and then you guys can come -” 

“We got this. We’ve uh…practiced before,” Penguin interrupted. You nodded while swallowing the lump in your throat. Your turn was next and you were filled with nervous energy you needed to quell.

“Switch drinks with me,” you demanded while holding out your half full glass of beer.

“Yes, Captain!” Penguin said, switching the dark brew for a Cosmo. Being the Captain had its perks, it seemed. Maybe you’d reconsider becoming a pirate if it meant handsome men at your beck and call. 

“And how did you know this is his favorite drink?” you asked suspiciously. 

“Everyone knows he’s from the North Blue,” Penguin explained. “That’s the most popular beverage in that area. It was just a guess,” he finished with a shrug. Your names were called and you had no more time for talking. You chugged the rest of the martini and ambled on stage, pulling out all the Law-like mannerisms you’d practiced in the mirror.

Walking up to the microphone center of the stage slowly, you boomed “ROOM” to the crowd and turned on the LED light in your palm. The crowd applauded and cheered, giving you the chance to give a Law-like smirk. 

“And now, my crew mates Shachi and Penguin!” you growled, motioning to the pair still behind the stage. They leapt into action, joining behind you with their limbs in a fighting pose.

“It’s nice to make your acquaintance party people!” they said in unison. They hadn’t lied, they really had practiced this together. The three of you walked the stage as was required, showing off the costumes you’d all poured your time and energy into.

“And who’s that?” yelled Shachi, grabbing the microphone from the stand. “Why, it’s our first mate, Bepo! Come up to the stage Bepo, join us!” The crowd parted to reveal someone in a perfect replica Bepo costume.

“Come on, cheer for Bepo everyone!” Shachi continued, whipping the crowd into a frenzy. The cacophony that erupted overpowered even the MCs on the microphones.

“Bepo! Bepo! Bepo!” Penguin chanted and the audience joined in. With a yell, the Bepo launched himself to the stage, joining the other Heart Pirates. Bepo showed off his claws, moving and holding a karate style pose along with Penguin and Shachi. You folded your arms in front of your chest and the flash of a snail told you a picture had been taken. The crowd roared with their approval of the costumes and you blushed furiously. The last second addition of Bepo took the judges by storm, they all gave your group 10s. 

Rushing off the stage, you squeezed Shachi and Penguin into a tight hug. “That was amazing! Thank you guys so much!” The person in the mink costume was already trying to drag the pair away even as he apologized under his breath. “And thank you, Bepo! We’ve won for sure, I can’t imagine another group can get a perfect score!” You kissed the snout of the mink costume, leaving behind some of your face makeup on its white fur. “Sorry about that,” you apologized while rubbing the makeup off with your arm. The costume was so realistic you couldn’t believe how soft the fur was. If you were able to remember you wanted to ask the person how they made it look so life-like. One more drink and you’d ask to sleep on top of it.

“Let’s go, Captain is annoyed!” Bepo exclaimed, pulling a reluctant Shachi and Penguin down the wings backstage.

“Aw, come on Bep. It’s Halloween, give us a few more minutes” Shachi grumbled.

“Yeah, Bepo. We have to stay until they declare the winners at least... and who knows? You might get a trophy,” Penguin said while waggling his eyebrows. In the dim light it almost looked like the mink’s eyes grew wider.

“Besides, I’m the Captain,” you joined in. You didn’t want the night to end, the Penguin and Shachi were fun to be around. “I say we keep drinking!” you added with a fist raised in the air. Shachi and Penguin whooped and picked you up onto their shoulders, passing through the packed floor of the venue with ease. Bepo followed behind slowly while trying to avoid stepping on other patrons. Depositing you on your feet in front of the bar, you fished more Berri out of your pocket and handed it off to Shachi. Perching on a bar stool facing the bar, you watched your hard earned money being turned into Lemon Drops for the four of you. Worth every penny.

“And who might you be?” a deep voice asked from behind.

Channeling your inner Law, you turned around as you sneered while looking the speaker up and down, “I am Dr. Traflagar D. Water Law, Captain of the Heart Pirates, former Warlord of the Sea, part of the worst generation, surgeon extraordinaire, supreme user of the Ope Ope no Mi and the future Pirate King. Who might you be?” You tried to maintain your stony face but couldn't after you saw the other person was also a Law cosplayer. “Oh, sorry, you knew all that already. I’m - we’re Trafalgar Law!” You broke into a smile, unable to maintain Law’s stoic recalcitrance.

Looking over the other Law, your mouth dropped open. “Wow! Your costume is insane! It’s so detailed, you’ve got every little thing down. Did you pierce your ears for this too?” you asked and reached out to touch the small golden earrings dangling from his ears. The Law jerked back, giving you a frown.

“Here you go Captain,” Shachi said while wrapping an arm around you to pass you your drink. 

“Thank you Shachi-ya,” you replied before taking a gulp. 

“I didn’t order anything,” the other Law intoned. 

“ You didn’t, Law did,” Penguin said, lifting his own glass to you. You giggled at the gesture and returned the drinking salute.

“That’s r-right, this is my crew! Penguin-ya, Shachi-ya, and Bepo-ya!” you slurred. Perhaps continuing to drink wasn’t the best idea but you’d find out for sure tomorrow.

“I don’t call him Penguin-ya, just Penguin,” Other Law scoffed.

“W-well la dee dah . P-peng! Let’s get more, yeah?” You’d already finished your fourth? Fifth? Drink of the night and you were feeling great.

“Negative, Cap. Let’s wait a few. Maybe get some fresh air,” Penguin suggested. You huffed but they led you out to the patio. Penguin and Shachi went to secure one of the tables, Bepo had left to use the restroom which left you and Law talking together under the fairy lights. A few of your friends were there smoking which made you want a cigarette of your own. Maybe you’d bum one off them....you thought while longingly watching the plumes of smoke.

“Don’t even think about it,” Other Law told you. “Nicotine is a dangerous, addicting substance and smoking alone increases your mortality rate by -”

“Blah blah I know, I know. I’m a n-nurse. I know the stats,” you groaned while still eyeing the temptation. 

“A nurse? Is that why you dressed as Trafalgar Law?” his long lithe body leaning against the exterior brick wall. For a Law impersonator, he really hit all the checkboxes. He was so similar looking to the real Law, it made you feel some kind of way. This Other Law was incredibly good looking and had the deep gravelly voice you’d always imagined Law would. He was tan and well muscled, and even had the dark eye bags you found strangely attractive. It would be weird to ask for but maybe he’d make out with you while he was still in costume after a few more drinks.

“Pfff. N-not just dressed like him. He’s the reason I became a nurse at a-all. I wasn’t smart enough for me-medical school but I wanted to be like him a l-little.” Normally you didn’t talk to strangers, much less bare your soul to them, but you were a touch wasted. 

“Hmm. Nurses are just as important as doctors,” Other Law said sagely, the two of you nodding at one another.

“I know, b-but it’s not just that! He’s so smart and handsome and hot and amazing and I want him to be the Pirate King even though it’s probably gonna be St-Strawhat and his articles are so interesting and he’s so sophisticated and his brothers are so lovely and I just love him s -so hic much!” Your Law rant was interrupted by the overhead speaker announcing the winners of the costume contest. Everyone went silent as they listened in. “Gah, I’m so nervous, can I hold your hand?” you asked the Other Law. You didn’t wait for an answer instead reaching and gripping the man’s tan hand. It had the same “tattoos” yours did which made for a funny look as you squeezed tightly.

The first, second, and third place prizes for Best Individual and Couple were announced and with every announcement you gripped Other Law’s hand tighter and tighter. Finally, it was time for the announcement you’d been waiting for. Shachi, Bepo, and Penguin had come to stand by you and Law, everyone listening in for the announcement. 

AND THE FIRST PLACE WINNER OF BEST GROUP GOES TO…….THE HEART PIRATES!

You screamed as loud as you could in delight while Penguin picked you up into the air and spun you in a circle. Bepo rubbed his head on Shachi’s hat in happiness while the assembled crowd cheered for you. 

“Penguin! Shachi! Bepo! We won!! We won! Oh my god I finally won!” Penguin was still spinning you and the world turned on its axis. “Whoa, uh…I think you should stop that,” you groaned while holding your head. You might have gone a little past your limit.  A lot past.

“We can go now, right Captain?” Bepo asked, his hands worrying together. You could imagine why a full bear mink costume would be uncomfortable but that was no reason to end the night early. 

“N-no!” you yelled.

“Sure, Bepo. Let's head back.” Other Law answered simultaneously. Penguin put you down and leaned on Shachi’s shoulder with his forearm. Penguin looked between you and Other Law several times.

“I dunno, Shach,” Penguin said while rubbing his chin in thought, “it’s hard to tell which one is actually our Captain. Who should we listen to? This Law wants to go home but this Law wants to stay and keep having fun…” Penguin gestured between the two of you.

Shachi’s sharp grin split his face in half with delight. “You’re right, Peng. Which one is the real Law? Hmmmm…” Shachi’s rapid double takes between the two of you caused you to giggle. Holding Kikoku in your crossed arms, you did your best Law impression opposite Other Law. Other Law was decidedly not amused by the antics of his friends, making you break character to laugh at his snarl.

“Well, this one has Captain’s hat, they must be the right one!” Shachi declared, putting his hand on your shoulder. Penguin hummed in agreement, nodding along with his friend. The two of them stood flanking you with their arms crossed like they were your actual crew.

“You boys are my best friends, you know me so well. I l-love you guys,” you asserted while furrowing your brow. You threw your arms over their shoulders and brought the two of them into a quick group hug. You thought you saw Other Law’s eye twitching.

“Awww, Captain, we love you tooooooo,” Penguin said while placing a sloppy kiss on your cheek, making you laugh. This time Other Law’s eye did twitch.

“Room. Shambles,” Other Law said. The deck went quiet as the hat that had been on your head was now firmly on Law’s. The real Law. Trafalgar D. Water Law. Your hero, your inspiration, the reason you changes majors in college. Your eyes opened wide as your mind went blank. Should you apologize? Did you need to plead for your life? Was he mad at you? Did he like your costume? Was he glad you’d won?  Would he let you trace his tattoos with your tongue? Did he want your heart in a cube? Did he have to look so hot?

“I’ve been looking for my hat all day. Lost it in that damn costume shop while Bepo was looking for an Uta costume,” Law scowled. Bepo bowed his head apologetically.

“Sorry Captain,” was his pathetic response. Law gave the mink a small smile as you imagined rubbing your face on his plush fur. 

“It’s alright Bepo, I’m just sorry the costume didn’t fit,” the Captain said quietly to his first mate. You had a million questions for the mink but your muddled mind wouldn’t bring any to the forefront.

“Um, Cap- er, um, Dr. Trafalgar, I’m sorry for what I said earlier, and, um…for d-dressing up like you.” You couldn’t look Law in the eye, you were tapping your replica Law shoes against the wood deck of the patio. You really did respect him professionally and hoped you hadn’t embarrassed yourself too much.

To your relief the corners of the Captain’s mouth quirked up into an almost smile. “It’s a good imitation, you won first place. All you need is my hat and we’re practically twins,” he said, touching the hat now on his own head. 

“Uh, sorry for that too. I didn’t know it was the - your h-hat,” you stuttered. It did look like it belonged to him - it looked so natural perched on his beautiful head. Your good sense must have been shambled to another dimension because you asked the first thing that came to mind. 

“And I thought sh-shambles replaces things. What do I get if you have my h-hat?” 

“This,” Law said, kissing you chastely on your cheek. It was innocent and sweet, but he might as well have stuck his tongue down your throat with how red your face suddenly blazed.

“The Tang is on the far side of the port if you want to come by tomorrow to chat after you’re sober. Good night, Law-ya.”

~~~

Bonus sillies

Law: Take off those medals, they’re not part of the uniform

Shachi: *wearing his 1st place medal over his suit* you’re just jealous 

Penguin: yeah, it’s obvious our costumes were the best

Law: they weren’t costumes! You cheated! 

Shachi: *whispers* I wish Other Law was here, they would let us wear our medals

Penguin: And they bought us drinks, shoulda chosen them instead

Law shambles them into the sea

~

Marco: Ace, put down my extra shirt. You’re not dressing up as me for that Pirate Ball yoi.

Ace: But I need a costume with a shirt to cover my tattoo! No one on the crew wears a shirt except for Izou and he said I can’t even look at his wardrobe.

Marco: That’s not my problem yoi.

Ace: That’s yoi not yoi my yoi problem yoi

Marco: I don’t sound like that

Ace: * now wearing Marco’s shirt, twirling in a circle* Look at meeeee, I’m Maaaarco. You can’t tell if my eyes are open or closed cuz I’m a biiiiiiiiird

Marco tosses Ace overboard, Ace doesn’t get to the party

~

Shanks: Sooooooooooo, how many Shanks were there :) :) :) 

Hongo: Just one

Shanks: :( 

Hongo: But you won best couple

Shanks: :) :) with who?

Hongo: It was a Shuggy couple

Shanks:*groans* Every year! 

Buggy: what now, Redhair?

Shanks: nothing honey * kisses his hand *

Buggy: * yanking hand away * How many Buggys were there? 

Hongo: 17

Buggy: heh * flips Shanks off with the hand wearing his wedding ring *

~ 

Shanks: Why don’t more people dress up as me? It’s such a sexy and easy costume! Open shirt, red wig, cool pants, sandals….

Beckman: I keep telling you, ladies don’t like dressing up as middle aged men. If you want more cosplayers, we gotta get women on the crew.

Shanks: Maybe if I wear fewer clothes…

Beckman: NO!

Shanks: …..wait, I’m not middle aged.

Hongo: tell that to your receding hairline.

~

Blackbeard: So, how many Blackbeards were there?

Von Augur: I wasn’t allowed in :( 

~

Knockoff Spirit Halloween Marine Costumes 

Vice Admiral Open Handed Slap

Captain Honesty (comes with wrong color wig)

Admiral Angry Lava

Vice Admiral Vapor

Happy Halloween!

[flufflecat]

bill cipher deconstructed, a cosplay

[quinloki]

𝐵𝓊𝑔𝑔𝓎'𝓈 𝒮𝓅𝑜𝑜𝓀𝓉𝒶𝒸𝓊𝓁𝒶𝓇 𝒮𝓅𝑒𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓁!

This is my costume contest entry for @swampstew's costume contest event \o/

Characters: Marco, Ace, Reader Warnings: None (implied poly relationship) Notes: Reader is implied shorter-than-average as a gag for the characters they're dressing up as.

Word count: 696

Ace tugged at the button up collar, undoing the top button again. “I know I agreed, but I didn’t think you were going to shove me into five layers of clothes, (Y/N).” He grumbles a little as you hand him a dark blue and silver trimmed military style jacket.

“At this rate the gloves are going to be the death of you.” You reply with a smirk. “Marco’s wearing something similar, he’s not complaining.” You say as you help him get the gold braided cord around his right arm the correct way.

Marco was standing in front of a mirror in the blue and silver trimmed military uniform. He had it buttoned up correctly, the boots were shined, and the few accessories were in place as though he was actually part of the Amestris Empire. He was currently getting used to the plastic prop cigarette you’d provided him, trying to make it look natural and sort out how to keep it comfortable.

He’d gone so far as to make sure he was clean shaven for the part, combing back and trying to tame some of his hair so it was only a little spiky in the front.

“His flames don’t run hot.” Ace huffs. “And look at him, he’s preening.”

“You would be too, pretty boy, if you’d look in the mirror.” Marco says flatly, turning around and giving Ace a grin, managing to keep the cigarette where he wants it.

“You know, the Colonel often wears a long black coat in the series, if you want, I can go get it?” You offer, giving him a half-teasing, half-irritated smile.

He flinches a little, and then sighs in surrender. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry for complaining so much.” He offers up. “But why are you the main character?”

“Cause you two giants are too tall.” You assert, handing him a pair of gloves with thin red lines stitched into them. You’re wearing a black a-shirt, a thick brown belt, black pants and boots and a bright red coat with a black symbol stitched on the back. Thatch had helped you do the stitching, and it’d taken both of you a few months. It was beautiful work at least, and you were certainly going to get more use out of it than just this single contest event.

“Not that you have to be short to dress up as a short character.” You admit, checking your loose-braided blonde wig before putting it on. “But… this is my favorite character, and the two of you share a lot of physical traits with my other favorite characters, so it just worked out well. Too good to pass up.”

You finish getting your costume on and Ace nearly snorts trying not to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” You question.

He puts a hand over his mouth trying to stifle a laugh and failing miserably. “N-noth-nothing!” He manages. “It’s just- hahahaha!”

Marco turns to look and grunts, nearly snorting as he tries not to laugh too.

 “Heck, is something wrong?” You question, starting to panic a little.

“No, not at all.” Marco assures you.

“You look shorter than usual!” Ace finally blurts out, losing it entirely and cackling.

Your panic morphs into irritation. You start to say something, but Marco interjects.

“Those boots are even thicker than your usual shoes.” He states in disbelief. “It’s impressive, yoi.”

“Y-you’re both wearing boots too!” You stammer, suddenly painfully aware of your lack of height for the first time in months. “You’re just standing taller than usual, th-that’s all.”

You snatch a pair of white gloves out of Ace’s hands as he hands them over, still trying to contain his amusement. You grumble under your breath a little as you put the gloves on.

“Should’ve made you dress as the younger brother,” You huff. “Stick you in a big tin can all day.”

Ace’s gloved hand slips under your chin as he leans down from behind you. The rough texture sends a jolt down your back and you aren’t sure what to do with it. Before you can think on it he whispers into your ear.

“Don’t be mad, pipsqueak, I’ll make it up to you later.”

[practically-an-x-man]

well my Punk Nightcrawler won me an AMC gift card (everyone at the party voted on a costume contest) so I'll be taking myself out to a movie sometime!

[writing-yarn-goblin]

In honor of @swampstew ‘s Buggy’s Spooktacular Event, here is what happen to Barto and the reader after the winner was decided:

“And the winner is…RUDOLPH THE RED NOSED REINDEER!”

When you saw the reindeer take off its mask to show Buggy you were in shock.

But then again- it was up to the party-goers to decide who one so for now- your surprised was then switched to a laugh. Knowing that he won fair and square.

The real dark horse…or deer of the competition.

As promised- you went to the changing tents to change to your back up. Sleek black shirt and joggers with skeleton bones on top and instead of using a mask, you decided to paint a quick skull in your face. Simple, tasteful and comfortable. You had gone to Bartolomeo’s tent to help him, taking off the makeup and costume he was wearing before the change. You painted his face, helped him with his hair and now you were just two skeletons in the party.

Tasteful.

You had gone together to take pictures, booths, take a LOT of pictures of the Strawhats and, as promised, snogged the green haired giant to your heart’s content.

His fangs were pressed against you and carefully made sure that you didn’t hurt yourself.

But you didn’t care.

You were now happily drunk, kissing your significant other as you heard the other monster mashers hoot and holler at you.

In all, it was a good Halloween despite the initial discord with the costumes two weeks ago.

The day after- you were a making coffee at the Ship’s kitchen. In your long sleeved shirt and shit pajama bottoms, with cute little teddy bear slippers.

Domestic bliss.

“G’morning, My honey.”

“Good morning, ‘Meo. We got a whole 365 days to think of next year’s costume.”

You only heard him laugh as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and pressed a kiss against the hickey he left this morning before you left the bed.

“With you? I can’t wait.”

[nonasuch]

IT IS TIME: Miss Universe National Costume 2023

it's here! the Met Gala for people who actually understand what camp is!

yes I'm like 3 months late, but I sat down and watched the damn thing. I put up with the horrible little rhyming couplets for each contestant so you don't have to. and without further ado:

Albania: Starting off very Victoria’s Secret this year! Apparently it’s gold for important symbolism reasons, not just because everything in this competition is blinged out to within an inch of its life. The wings do look nice in motion!

Angola has a good balance of bling, actual cultural dress, and oh hey it has surprise bonus art on the back! That will be a theme this year.

Argentina: Why is there a guy in a hat right down at the bottom edge of her cape. He looks like he’s staring at her butt. How does this represent their flag.

Aruba: This is fine. I like the coral. She thinks climate change is bad. Her parrot is clearly way too heavy to hold up and it wobbles like crazy in motion.

Australia: This is now multiple years in a row that Australia has just worn a fucking prom dress. It’s got native wildflowers on. You could have made this exact same dress with a Great Barrier Reef theme and I would have liked it 80% more.

Bahamas: This costume is allegedly based on a 19th-century doll from the Bahamas “world famous straw market,” which is already bullshit; I googled “bahamas straw market antique doll” and like. they both have big skirts? I guess? Anyway now I’m too distracted by the way she has a hoop skirt awkwardly jammed under there and hiked up on one side. Minus ten for poor construction.

Bahrain's theme is “Bahrain’s pearl heritage,” which like. I guess? The headdress and yoke are pretty. Put more pearls on the actual outfit. Kudos for getting to wear pants.

Belgium: Girl. No. Why is your theme “Latin dance” and why are you wearing a spangly cocktail dress with a totally unrelated piece of fabric fluttering behind it? (Apparently the fabric was designed by a member of Belgium’s royal family? Who is a fashion designer? This is what nepotism gets you.)

Bolivia saw Aruba’s parrot and was like, I can do that better. And she was right! It’s way less wobbly and the costume as a whole does work better. Also made from recycled materials, so we’ll see if that’s a theme again this year. The back of the cape is nice too.

Sadly, Bolivia's parrot supremacy was short-lived, because Brazil was like, bitch please. I see your sad little parrots and raise you FOUR giant parrots, and also the shoulder parrots are articulated and can turn their heads back and forth. I think Brazil wins the parrot competition that only she knew she was in.

[swampstew]

Katakuribeingsweetandvulnerable Katakuribeingsweetandvulnerable Katakuribeingsweetandvulnerable Katakuribeingsweetandvulnerable Katakuribeingsweetandvulnerable Katakuribeingsweetandvulnerable Katakuribeingsweetandvulnerable Katakuribeingsweetandvulnerable Katakuribeingsweetandvulnerable Katakuribeingsweetandvulnerable Katakuribeingsweetandvulnerable Katakuribeingsweetandvulnerable

hello everyone! i'm proud to share my halloween-themed fic for raven's (@swampstew) event, where writers all incorporated a costume + a character into a fic! at the end of the month on October 29th, there will be a vote to see who wins the costume contest! check out the other fics and get ready to vote when the time comes!

character: Charlotte Katakuri

warnings/notes: no warnings (SFW fic), so fluffy it hurts, non-gendered reader, gender neutral reader, reader is average human sized

length: 4,016 words

summary: Your employer, Charlotte Cracker, Minister of Biscuits, gives you a last-minute invite to the Charlotte family's yearly Halloween party. As a newer resident of Totto Land, you'd not yet been to one of the Charlotte family's reputed parties, so your curiosity led you to the foot of Whole Cake Island on the night of Halloween.

You’d heard the Charlotte family threw a party for every occasion. And based on your arrival at the foot of the great Whole Cake Island, Halloween was certainly no exception. Hosted by Big Mom herself, every candied and frosted structure was painstakingly decorated by Streusen and his team of chefs. The cakes lining the horizon were decorated in the colors black, orange, red. Creepily smiling bats, balloons in deep red, and cotton candy clouds of a deep blue filled the darkening sky, contrasted brightly against the orange sunset. Fake blood oozed from the frosted fences lining the cracker-laden paths that led you to the delicious town of Sweet City. The singing, dancing homies you’d grown accustomed to seeing were eerily silent, silence a rare and disturbing thing in the archipelago you’d come to reside in. You spotted a few homies who took the shape of gravestones, attracted by the only sound in the whole area beyond the plodding footsteps of other partygoers. The gravestone homies sang a dark dirge as they sullenly watched a shovel homie dig up a fresh grave. Even the juice river had been dyed red to look like blood, deep red reflecting on the horrible grins of the trees peering from the edge of the Seducing Woods.

Having once glimpsed the true darkness of Totto Land, you couldn’t help but wonder if its morbid, Halloween-themed makeover was the truest reflection of its nature. Memories flashed back to your initial arrival to the archipelago. You watched the man in front of you die as Big Mom’s Incarnation swiped the final months of his life as payment for his residency. Vivid memories of him collapsing to the floor with a final breath danced in your brain, followed by the hollow smile of the creature with its white glowing eyes. The creature you’d come to pay twice a year for your ability to live here.

You shuddered at the thought, shaking away the uncomfortable memories. You’d lived here for about 3 months, happily, but saw the hints of darkness creeping behind the picturesque frame of the candy-encrusted landscape…

--

Inside Whole Cake Chateau, the highest of extravagance was on full display. The smell as you stepped inside the massive cake building was perhaps the most memorable—powerful, luscious notes of candy corn, lollipops, gumdrops, marshmallow, chocolate all tickled your nose in unison yet each distinct. The large buffet table to your right was a mountain of confections modeled after zombie parts, skeletons, bat wings. The serving dishes were massive and well-stocked, an army of chefs and rook knights replacing every calorie taken from the table with finesse and speed. To your center, a red velvet chocolate fountain so large that it rivaled an Olympic swimming pool. Guests dotted every corner of the ballroom to your left, dressed from head-to-toe in expensive costumes of classic horror creatures, characters from the latest trends, jokes, and other displays of amazement and fantasy.

You recognized some of the partygoers, primarily from your work as a baker in the cracker bakery housed on Biscuits Island. Visitors from across the entire archipelago came to your workplace to place orders for customized cracker flooring—the area’s edible replacement for tile flooring. While most often you’d seen the Charlotte family’s aides and assistants placing orders at your workplace, some of them preferred to complete the work themselves. Charlotte Katakuri was one of them—an ominous figure he painted against the colorful showroom, tall, dark and quiet. But his attention to detail and patience with ordering the perfect set of cracker floors for each of his projects made you come to realize that there was more than meets the eye with him. He was a figure that intrigued you more than you’d care to admit, but you’d only ever seen him in a work setting. He was a person that you looked forward to seeing, though you held your feelings about him deep within—he seemed too perfect, too unobtainable.

Until today. The most extravagantly dressed you recognized as members of the Charlotte family, who were both the children of the land’s queen as well as its appointed politicians. Charlotte Smoothie stood out immediately, tall as ever, effervescent in a red and blue princely outfit, epaulets encrusted with rhinestones and a beautifully detailed sword laying at her hip, her hair in a low ponytail like a fairytale prince. Charlotte Compote was next to her in a vampiress costume, signature bowl hat filled with a deep red liquid like blood, hair adorned in a slick black wig, fangs poking from red lips, and a beautiful blood red gown, and they appeared to be discussing the décor in detail. Young children in a rainbow assortment of costumes swarmed around their feet, and given their appearances, you could only assume those were younger Charlotte children as they ran in circles at Compote’s feet. From a distance, you spotted a tall figure dressed as Frankenstein’s Monster chatting with a woman dressed as the Bride of Frankenstein, though most of their outfits were obscured by the crowd.

As you approached Compote, another regular of your cracker establishment, you heard Smoothie call out: “Katakuri!” and the Frankenstein’s Monster turned his head. You immediately saw that Katakuri’s skin was painted a pale green that made his pink hair, irises, and tattoo pop in contrast. Steel bolts were attached to each side of his head, and his mouth was covered, as usual, by a scarf, although this one was tattered and worn to fit the outfit. Before she could say anymore, Katakuri was there, crouching down and saying something to the children with a gentle, yet stern look in the eyes peering above his tattered scarf. The way they stopped and listened to him so intently was telling of their respect for him—could these be his own children? Ah, well. After he spoke to them, they became quiet and orderly, walking single file towards the pink candy spiral staircase leading up to the second floor. The woman dressed as his bride showed up behind him, cooing, “Oh Katakuri—you’re always so good with them.” With a nod of acknowledgement, he stood back up silently, and noticed you standing 15 feet from them, staring directly at him. He looked at you up and down, and blinked.

“You’re the one from Cracker’s bakery,” he uttered at you with the gentlest hint of a furrow in his brow. The woman dressed as Frankenstein’s Bride next to him grimaced, the wrinkles in her face scrunching to her brow as she failed to hide her frustration. You felt an ounce of hostility from her, and wondered if she had somehow noticed your fascination with Katakuri…

You nodded coyly in response and approached the group of large individuals, but before you could try to politely continue the conversation, you felt a smack on the flat of your back. A large figure leaned in next to you, grin penetrating a hole in the side of your face. “You made it! I’m so glad,” Cracker exclaimed a little too loudly in your ear.

Smoothie groaned, “speak of the devil…” and Cracker gave her a smirk as he acknowledged his siblings standing before him in a circle on the ballroom floor. You noticed Cracker wore a bordering childish lion costume with a mane created from craft paper. Compared to the other costumes, it didn’t make sense to you until you saw him later on in the evening next to the rest of the Wizard of Oz cast…Mont-d’Or in a scarecrow costume, Moscato in a tin man costume, and Poire in an adorable and well-crafted Dorothy costume. You had learned their names because they all stood together in a line to be judged at the costume contest you watched later in the evening.

The siblings bantered around you, discussing each others’ outfits, nearly forgetting you standing there, small in stature and already quiet to begin with. You craned your neck to follow the conversation going on in the air above you.

It struck you as a bit odd that Cracker invited you, one of many employees of his, to this party. There was no one else from your workplace you recognized. On top of that, the Charlotte family all in a single room was a party entirely on its own, without any need for additional guests. This party appeared to be much the same, thick with Charlotte blood, common folk mostly appearing in (Halloween-themed) serving garb, some friends and in-laws dotted between the unusual shapes and sizes of the Charlottes.

--

You mostly enjoyed yourself throughout the party, learning everyone’s names and becoming more familiar with Cracker’s close siblings. The woman Katakuri was with was named Brulee, though you spent most of the night averting your eyes from them, feeling awkward for having ever had a crush on him. Of course he had a wife, or a girlfriend, or whoever she was.

Instead, you paid attention to the costume contest put on by Perosperos and Charlotte Linlin. The contest’s comically large scroll full of rules that’d been penned throughout the years of their lives together as siblings was read through at the very beginning like a very boring educational speech. Poire explained to you that it basically boiled down to: “make your costume yourself, don’t use devil fruits, and anyone discovered cheating on either of those rules would be banned from participating in the costume contest forever.” After learning that, your eyes opened to the absolute craftsmanship of this family’s dedicated costumers. Even the worst costumes such as Cracker’s childish lion seemed less bad after considering the amount of work he had spent at a craft table, hot gluing whiskers to his hand-sewn furry hood.

You had come wearing a mummy costume, but it was store bought and nothing special. Just something cobbled together last minute in preparation for the party, so you had no reason to enter the contest.

There was no real prize beyond the ability to brag—but bragging rights were an incredibly important prize to the Charlottes, and doubly so when a party was involved. Even a cool woman such as Smoothie was swayed by its power, giving her all to craft the most beautifully detailed prince costume this year in the hopes of winning. A teenaged girl named Flampe was swarmed with chess knights all dressed up in the theme of her costume: a musician with all of her adoring fans. You weren’t really sure what popstar she was supposed to be—her skin was painted like a skeleton, hair curled densely, a large crown upon her head, heart shaped sunglasses resting on her head with an orange feather boa around her shoulders. She held a green guitar shaped like a shark that she never actually tried to play. Given how nearly everyone in the room watched her entrance and participation on the stage, you guessed it was someone famous.

Later on in the event, you noted that Katakuri and Brulee joined as a team with their matching Frankenstein and Bride of Frankenstein outfits. You wouldn’t have pegged Katakuri as the type to want bragging rights for anything, but the crowd’s response to them was incredible—for Katakuri in particular. Oven noticed your surprise. He leaned down to you and explained, “he’s been voted the most popular brother, after all. He’s cool, perfect, and utterly undefeated in battle.”

In the end, the costume contest voting boiled down into a popularity contest, as things so often do within the family’s politics. Charlotte Linlin, dressed in the most expensive and extravagant Queen costume, sat at the large chair behind the judge’s table and laughed her signature “mama-mama” when she counted the results. Flampe’s skeleton musician-themed group was the winner and she accepted the honor with the smallest amount of grace, followed by Katakuri and Brulee’s Frankenstein pair in second.

--

The party came to a close, its music dying down, the youngest children all retired to bed or gone home. You’d been invited upstairs into one of the many candy-rococo rooms in the upper echelons of the Whole Cake Chateau by Cracker, and sat on the floor with a grouping of older Charlottes and friends sitting in a circle, all laughing and chatting. Katakuri and the woman he was with were there.

You’d chosen dare. A bottle was spun in the middle of the group. Whoever it landed on would be the second player of 7 Minutes in Heaven—a game typically played by hormone-ridden teens looking to make out in a closet. But you were adults, joking around. You’d been recruited as the first player in a game of 7 Minutes in Heaven, which made you feel a bit uncomfortable—this was a party your boss invited you to, after all. You weren't usually a dare person either, but you’d never gotten to play spin the bottle growing up, so you figured why not. The gentle haze of an alcoholic beverage helped, too.

The bottle stopped. Of all the people in the circle, it pointed at Charlotte Katakuri. Brulee looked uncomfortable, but didn’t say anything—why would a married couple play this game? You thought to yourself. But in the single night you knew him, Perosperos was the one making up the rules, and he was a stickler for those.  You decided not to protest. Maybe you’d stand silently in the closet for 7 minutes with the perfectly terrifying Katakuri as he gazed down upon you in the darkness.

Words were exchanged, and you were both sent to the closet for 7 minutes of heaven.

You entered the dark closet, shuffling in and out of a multitude of large dresses belonging to Charlotte Linlin, the fabric nearly engulfing you. The door shut behind you both, and a voice rang out, “timer starts now! Don’t get too naughty, you two!” followed by Brulee’s audible groan.

You heard Katakuri audibly gulp above you. The feelings of shock and nervousness had blinded you to his expressions, so now that you were smashed together in the dark, you had absolutely no read on him whatsoever.

So you quietly asked, “Katakuri…?”

“Yes,” he answered.

“Why did you—aren’t you married? Isn’t this weird?” but you were interrupted by a large gloved hand on your shoulder, sending a wave of nervousness in a whirlwind through your body.

“I am not married,” he responded, simply.

You gulped, biting your lip.

“But, Brulee…?” you responded in your head, but the words didn’t come out. Somehow, he heard you anyway.

“Brulee is my sister. She likes scary movies a lot, so we dressed up for the contest.” He changed the subject. “I think your costume is nice,” he gestured, withdrawing his hand on your shoulder to touch the fabric with a respectful tap of his finger, unable to point in the darkness.

“Wait, then whose kids were—well...Okay. Thank you,” and you laughed a little as you went along with him. “If you’re wondering, I didn’t make it. The mummy wraps came pre-stained.”

“Oh?”

“I didn’t know you guys had all these rules. Hell, I didn’t even know there was a contest. I just grabbed something from one of the shops last minute. You did such a great job on your costume, I feel embarrassed for you to even have to look at me! Cracker didn’t even tell me about this party until the day before.”

Katakuri sighed. “Sorry.”

“What’re you apologizing for?”

“He invited you because of me.”

You didn’t understand what he meant. Katakuri continued.

“I…mentioned you once...” That revelation piqued your interest. He talked about you? Why?

Katakuri shifted his weight from one foot to another, causing some of the dresses around you to move. “Because I thought you were…cute.” The words choked out of him, you could almost feel the heat of his blushing cheeks radiating from above you as he spoke. He cleared his throat.

“Let’s talk about something else.”

An awkward silence filled the closet—he’d stunned you twice in a row, first with the truth about his relationship status, and second, that he’d requited your attraction. What to do?

Katakuri cleared his throat again, uncomfortable and trapped in a closet with his head nearly touching the ceiling, stuffed awkwardly against the shelf with the person he’d just admitted he liked. You wanted to respect his request to drop the subject, so you didn’t push it.

Following his earlier lead, you offered a compliment. “I like your costume too.” You lightly touched the thick canvas fabric of his baggy pants where they tucked into his heavy platform boots, outlining a patch stitched with wide embroidery thread. “You really made all this yourself?”

The leg under your hand shifted in its pants as Katakuri kneeled before you, pushing Big Mom’s hanging clothes surrounding you out of the way by sheer size of his frame. A protective arm rested on the floor next to you, and he uttered, “Yes. The rules are very explicit. You can incorporate basic, store-bought items such as shirts, pants, but they must be modified in some tangible way.”

“Is it okay if I touch?” you asked, not wanting to be too presumptuous. You continued, “I didn’t have much of a chance to look at your costume too closely, but it must be good if you won second place.”

“I worked hard on it, but I am not sure it was deserving of second place. You’re welcome to touch it.” The air felt less thick between you as the awkwardness simmered into a cool comfort.

You explored the details of his costume in the darkness, your hands small against the 16’ man’s frame. The large arm resting on the ground next to you was adorned in the sleeve of a thick blazer, artificially weathered by his own hands, its threads exposed and rough with rips and tears near the seams. Thickly woven patches were sewn into his entire suit using embroidery thread. The blazer was opened at the center to reveal his shirtless chest, and although you couldn’t feel it, you remembered how his skin had been carefully painted green around the pink tattoos, and how the juxtaposition of those two colors created such a bright and engaging contrast on his skin.

“Did you sew the patches with a machine? The detailing feels so even,” you asked as you felt the perfectly squared stitching, betraying the imperfect nature of the Frankenstein Monster.

“I sewed all of the modifications by hand, though the jacket and pants were something I had already owned. Have a couple of injuries on my fingers to prove it.” Katakuri replied as he twisted his wrist, opening his palm next to you.

“You? Injuries? One of your brothers told me you were undefeated. To think you’d been bested by a needle and thread…” Reaching down to his hand, you ran yours against his palm to the ends of his fingertips. He let out the lightest flinch when your hand pressed against a small needle injury at the end of his pointer finger.

“How the mighty fall,” he answered with a spark of amusement.

Resolving not to waste this private moment, he made a move.

Katakuri wrapped his hand around yours, and with the softest motion, pulled you in towards his body as he leaned his head down. You were close enough to him to feel the warmth radiating from his core. You swore you smelled a hint of fried dough. The ruggedly tattered scarf wrapped around his lower face tickled your skin as electricity grew between you and the seconds stretched into what felt like minutes. You were so close that you felt his breath on your nose, but the scarf stayed put as a barrier between you. You looked into the eyes you couldn’t see in the darkness, and yearned for the touch of his lips against yours.

Both yourself and Katakuri imagined the feel of each others’ lips pressed against skin, the taste, the touch, the smell—although you had no idea what his mouth looked like. He always covered it, so your imagination ran wild in the dark. You kissed the scarred and torn lips of the face you imagined in your head, then you kissed a mouth with sharp teeth so pointed that your own lips were cut in the process. Maybe he had big cute buck teeth under there that stuck through a pair of swollen lips. You kissed that too. Your imagination ran through the possibilities like a rolodex, and each was good, wonderous, and electric.

Meanwhile, Katakuri’s rolodex of imagined scenarios was not so idyllic. He imagined the multitude of ways in which you’d reject him, how you’d take his scarf from him and embarrass him, how you’d reveal the secret of his mouth to the entire world, painting a target on the backs of all his siblings. He remembered all of his past relationship failures, and most of all, he remembered the great bloody wound across his sister Brulee’s face as he stood there powerlessly. He froze.

The hesitation began to hang thick in the air like a fog, and you were nearly able to feel the discomfort circulating from his body. You weren’t sure what changed. Time had been dilating and you wondered how much longer the 7 minutes would last.

You took your chance.

You grasped his hand which held yours so gently but stiffly, and pulled it close enough to plant a sweet kiss upon the top of his painted knuckle. Underneath your lips, his body notably relaxed. The gesture brought him back to reality.

Katakuri’s eyes glinted with the color of the future, where he saw the moment the door opened to light, just moments away. In a flash, he pulled your hand through his scarf to his lips and returned the kiss so quickly that you could hardly process what might be under there by feel. He then stood straight up and gave you both a once over that lasted no more than a single second, any hair or mummy wrapping out of place put in its proper configuration by the quickest swipe of his finger. As if nothing had happened.

The door opened.

His siblings joked, poked, prodded, and laughed at what they thought may or may not had happened between the two of you. He spent the rest of the night avoiding your eyes, as if nothing had happened. Eventually, his siblings dropped the subject. Deep down, they were rooting for Katakuri—most of the older Charlotte children had already been married, through virtue (or iniquity) of arranged marriage. But perhaps the strongest and most perfect Charlotte, intentionally held from the world of political marriage, would be allowed to pick his own partner.

The party moved on. Other games were played, other topics broached, other siblings bullied and jested and the family was having a great time. Katakuri thought he’d gotten away with keeping up his perfect illusion that he’d kept his distance during the closet game, but sometime later, his eyes widened at you like plates, face turning red under his scarf, burning through the green face paint. He observed his hand and saw a hardly noticeable kiss mark on his knuckle. It’s already too late, he thought to himself.

Seconds later, Cracker’s burst of laughter turned the entire room to your face.

“Hold on, hold on! Your lips are GREEN!”

“GREEN?!”

“What did those two get up to…?”

“Katakuri! You DOG!”

Brulee looked concerned and attempted to play interference by standing between you and Katakuri to block the line of sight. She’d grown to be very protective of him, knowing that his hidden heart was kind and undeserving of the expectations those had thrust upon him. While she knew he was truly not the perfect being the world had decided him to be, she would do anything to help him protect that because it is what he had chose.

Despite Brulee getting in the center of it, the chatter raged on, the rumors spread, and you gained some kind of reputation. Your eyes met Katakuri’s as he leaned over Brulee to look at you. You furrowed your brows at each other.

The start of a beautiful relationship…

[swampstew]

It's time to flashily vote on your favorite costume!

Didn't read every story? No stress - you can find every entry below before you vote! Please like, reblog, and support every writer who put their ENTIRE soul into each writing piece - we all had so much fun putting this together for fandom!

@swampstew - Eustass Kid - Slutty Sauron

@quinloki - Marco, Ace & Reader - Full Metal Alchemist

@zoros-sheath - Zoro, Kaku & Reader - Little Red Riding Hood

@sanjis-all-blue - Diez Drake & Reader - The Princess Bride

@leakyweep - Doflamingo & Reader & Rosinante - Twilight

@icy-spicy - Killer - The First Man

@writing-yarn-goblin - Bartolomeo & Reader - American Gothic Painting

@mew-ya- Katakuri & Reader - Frankenstein's Monster

@bulle-d-bulliver - Kin'emon & O-tsuru & Reader & Kiku as the 4 Musketeers

@quinloki - Buggy the Red Nosed Reindeer

Voting will run for 24 hours with the winner being announced Halloween Day!

[quinloki]

𝐵𝓊𝑔𝑔𝓎'𝓈 𝒮𝓅𝑜𝑜𝓀𝓉𝒶𝒸𝓊𝓁𝒶𝓇 𝒮𝓅𝑒𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓁!

This is my second costume contest entry for @swampstew's costume contest event \o/

Characters: Buggy the Clown Warnings: None Notes: This is Buggy's event?!? What's he doing trying to JOIN it??

Word count: 689

“Are you sure?” Buggy asks, disappearing into the costume you’re holding open for him. It’s one of those horse style costumes meant for two people. Not that this one looks like a horse.

“I’m positive.” You insist. “You wanted to enter the contest, you thief, and so you have to do it undercover.”

“There’s nothing in the rules that says I can’t participate.” He insists, moving around inside the costume with your help.

“Rules you wrote.” You point out. “No, not that way, put your left foot there, left hand here.”

“Why would I-?”

“Because you lift left and left and then right and right and it’ll look more natural for the costume.” You explain. “You’re holding up more parts by yourself than you’re used to with this, so don’t make it harder.”

“Hmph.” He grumbles, but does as you say. “What is this a costume of again? You said it was flashy.”

“It’s a mythological creature from one of the best stories of the winter season.” You answer, dodging the actual name of character on purpose.

“This is an Autumn event!” He nearly screeches.

“Ah stuff it, it’s an autumn event, but this is a flashy costume, and it suits you perfectly.” You insist, affixing a little reindeer tail to the backside of the costume. “Besides, you sprung this on me a little last minute, buster, you’re lucky I could pull anything together in the first place.”

You grumble the words from behind a row of pins in your mouth. Buggy looks over at you as you’re affixing the last few details into place. He smiles, even though you miss it, forever grateful that you put up with him so much. Putting the head piece on he settles into the costume a little better, but after a few minutes realizes there’s a small issues.

“(Y/N).”

“Yeah, Bugs?” You say to let him know you heard him.

“It’s really stuffy in here.”

“… Hard to breathe?”

“A bit.” He says. You smile, he’s trying to not make your job harder, and you appreciate that, but you’d not only hoped for this outcome, you’d bet on it.

“Lemme pop the nose off the head piece and you can put yours in its place.” You say, moving around to the front of the costume, taking the head piece as he hands it over. A seam ripper and a tug removes the little plastic black nose, and lets you quick stitch the fabric down before handing it back. “There.”

“… It’s not going to ruin the costume?” He questions. You look up at him and see he’s legitimately concerned. Poor guy, always so self-conscious of his nose.

“Not at all, Bugs. Gonna make it more accurate, honestly.” You say reassuringly. “This mythological creature very naturally, just like you, had a red nose.” You’d long since learned a way to mention his nose and its attributes without throwing him into a frenzy. Your voice took on a specific, almost professor-style tone, and it seemed to flip a switch in Buggy’s brain that assured him you were just stating a fact, and not picking on him.

“He’d been unfairly teased for his nose too, but managed to win over those around him and save the winter festival of the time.” You finish your explanation and give Buggy a smile. “Kind of like you and how you’ve won over your crew so much.”

Buggy’s eyes start to water, and you put your hands up. “Don’t cry! I don’t have time to clean tear stains out of the fur! You’ve got to be out on stage in twenty minutes at the most, keep it together for me, okay?”

Buggy sniffles hard, looking up for a moment and taking some deep breaths as he nods a little. You give him a couple minutes and he gives you a small “thanks” as you go back to working on the costume. You don’t have much time, but you’re going to make the best Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer that you can.

And as luck would have it, you didn’t have to go about finding a red nose for the costume.

[brucewaynehater101]

Space Emperor Tim decides to take a break from Earth. He fills out the paperwork that he developed as Robin for official on break status. He fills out the paperwork for vacation from WE. He finishes his active cases and very valiantly restrains himself from taking up new ones. His version of vacation reading is a file cabinet of cold cases so he puts those together for his personal entertainment for his vacation. He sublets his civilian apartment. He makes rigged bets with Jason, Dick, and Stephanie to get them to watch over his part of Gotham while he's gone.

Then he, Kon, Cassie, and Bart jump in the spaceship and head for the empire. They have new costumes to show off and laugh at one another about. They are going to decompress and Cassie will be searching the empire for a therapist for each of them. While she understands Tim's reluctance, Gothamite, she would like the team birb to at least get some healthier coping mechanisms figured out. She would honestly like all of them to have some better coping mechanisms.

The thing is though that Tim never actually, verbally told anyone he was going anywhere, much less leaving earth. The only one who did actively let anyone on earth know was Cassie, she told her mom and she let Greta, Anita, and Cissie know. All four have been promised souvenirs. Mrs. Sandsmark let Diana know that Cassie would be on vacation and unavailable for hero things for a bit. Kon is distant from the Kents, if they even know he exists given Clark's hot and cold attitude towards him, but to be polite Kon left a letter for Ma and Pa that he was going on vacation with his team. Bart's guardian situation is also very up in the air so he didn't bother to tell anyone. All the Bats are in the dark. Only Young Justice even knows that Bart has a spaceship. And turns out that Tim is the only one who uses his official on a break paperwork. And Bruce never read any of his (very edited) reports from his time with Young Justice.

The first clue that the Bats get that Tim isn't actually there in Gotham is from a reporter who asks Brucie how Tim is doing on his vacation?

Meanwhile Tim and his life partners are touring the empire and they've added another planet. And there's an imperial design contest for the best palace for the empire because the empire is hoping that if their baby has his own home here in the empire instead of living out of his ship or using the residences of their former leaders, he might stay for longer periods of time or be there physically more often. Tim is trying to discourage the palace thing as a waste of resources and get people to design gardens instead. Bart may or may not be conspiring with scientists to create a Death Star without the planet destroying capabilities as his own entry to the imperial palace contest. Kon is making sure Tim doesn't notice Bart's plans by dragging Tim through markets and looking for the best examples of ugly-cute baby emperor and consorts merchandise. So far the winner is a set of dishes and each piece has what is presumably their very stylized faces on them. Cassie is taking her turn of being the imperial bodyguard and making sure none of their fans get too overzealous. She is absolutely getting the dishes for the people back home.

Fuck. I love this so much.

Also, referring to YJ as Tim's life partners??? Yes. Absolutely. Idc if people ship them or just see them as a queerplatonic poly relationship. They are for sure life partners. That's the most adequate description for the four of them. Even if some of them choose to date some of the others, if they all date each other, or none date each other, they have a very special bond. No matter the distance or time apart, they are life partners. Gods, I'm vibing with that description so much.

Anyways, Tim being the only one to fill out his vacation/time off paperwork makes so much sense. I also hc that half of the reason he "hides" so much is just that he forgets he has to inform people of shit. He's so used to not telling people what's going on with him that he legitimately gets surprised when they get mad or worried at him because of it. He also goes out of his way to keep tabs on his loved ones and doesn't quite understand why he would need to inform them since they don't need to tell him about their plans. For this hc, I think that YJ had some bumps with this tendency of Tim until they worked out that they just need to ask him. They have a gc where they will ask Tim questions to keep everyone up to date.

Also, hell yeah to the merch and plates ideas. I wonder how YJ is going to explain where they got plates of the core four's faces (since some folks, perhaps Dick, will ask where to get more).

If Tim did request for gardens, I'd love to see what different ones look like. Since they are alien planets, they probably have different ecological systems. They would also have separate ideas on what's considered "beautiful" or worth keeping in a garden-like exhibit.

Thank you for also going in-depth on Kon, Bart, and Cassie's backgrounds. It was cool seeing how they communicated with their respective social groups

[k1ng-ej]

Halloween with Leon

I wrote this with re2 leon specifically in mind. (Requests are open)

Leon intertwined his fingers with yours, offering a gentle squeeze and a bright smile as he guided you through the aisles of the store, his eyes eagerly scanning the array of costumes. The station was hosting a costume contest, and when Leon discovered the news, he rushed home to you, brimming with excitement like you had never seen before. He had the brilliant idea to invite you to join him and create a couples costume together.

With the party only a few hours away, you couldn't help but smile like a fool as you watched Leon eagerly sift through various costumes. He would turn to you, flashing a beaming grin, eagerly awaiting your thoughts on each choice.

At last, the two of you settled on a classic theme: a vampire and his unsuspecting victim. After shopping for costumes, you returned to your shared apartment to prepare for the evening. Leon was quick to get dressed, donning a ruffled blouse complemented by a timeless cape and sleek dress pants. He had reached out for your assistance in piecing together his costume, and now, you found yourself sitting directly across from him, intently focused as you carefully applied contour to his cheeks. As you worked, you couldn't help but admire the charming little imperfections that dotted his features, like the gentle light freckles that adorned his skin and the alluring beauty marks positioned near the corners of his mouth and along his jawline. Being so close to him allowed you to truly appreciate the captivating oceanic shade of his blue eyes, which seemed to brighten even more under the warm touch of sunlight streaming in. You lost yourself in this moment, captivated by the delicate details that made him uniquely beautiful.

As you meticulously added the final details, applying fake blood around his mouth, you became entirely engrossed in your work. In this moment of concentration, you didn't notice Leon's intent gaze on your lips. Before you could react, he leaned in, pressing his lips against yours in a kiss that was both tender and filled with desire. The fake blood you had smeared on the corners of his mouth was now transferring to yours, and you couldn't contain your laughter. This caused Leon to pull back, his expression shifting to one of confusion as he looked at you.

"What?"

"Nothing, it's just I was putting hard work into that blood and now it's smeared," you chuckled, gesturing to the stains on your lips.

"Oh, I'm sorry." He grinned playfully, tilting his head as he closed the distance to capture your lips again.

After you both finished getting ready, you set off for the station, where Leon's excitement was palpable. His grin stretched from ear to ear, and you could almost see him bouncing in his seat. Upon arriving at the station, Leon eagerly assisted you out of the car and led you inside. Everywhere you looked, Halloween decorations were festooned in every corner, and everyone was dressed perfectly for the festive occasion. Leon held your hand as he took you around to meet all of his coworkers, each of them complimenting your costume.

The night unfolded perfectly, with you and Leon savoring drinks and fully immersing yourselves in the evening's ambiance. At one point, Leon approached a coworker, eager to capture a photo of the two of you. He guided you to a designated spot, confidently placing his hand on your lower back as he gently leaned you backward. A playful smile lit up his face as he lowered his lips to your neck, feigning a bite where fake blood had been applied, creating the illusion of drawing your blood. Unable to stifle a giggle at the ticklish gesture, you found it adorable, and the result was the cutest photo of you both—so charming that the station even framed it and hung it up for all to see. And not to your surprise, you won best costume.

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Scream For Me.

Serial Killer!Kate Bishop x fem!reader

Word count: 2.6K

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, knife play, Overstim, Possesive, dark behaviors, blood/blood play, violence, toxic relationship dynamics, mentions of murder and death, non-con

Authors notes: HAPPY HALLOWEEN! We made it through kinktober everyone! Now I'm going to take a break for a bit unless inspo strikes!

“Are you excited for Tony's yearly Halloween bash?” Wanda asks excitedly, sitting next to you in the common area at your college. 

You smile at your best friend, “Of course I'm excited Wands! I've got a great outfit this year. Maybe I'll finally win his costume contest.”

Wanda chuckles and leans against the table, “Are you going to tell me what your costume is or…?” 

“Oh no you'll have to wait and see sweetheart.” You tell her as you start getting your things ready to leave for your next class.

“Will Kate be there?” she asks, looking up at you. 

“Of course she will be.” You smiled at the thought of your girlfriend. You loved her with all of your heart. Kate was a few years younger than Wanda and yourself. A freshman while the two of you were Juniors. 

The moment you met Kate you knew she was your other half. The two of you spent all the time you could together. 

“I'll see you there Wands, okay? I gotta get to this class. If I'm late one more time he's docking me a letter grade.” Wanda shakes her head at you.

“Go on, I'll see you and Kate there.” She says with a sly smile.

At the Halloween party, the atmosphere is vibrant but eerie, with everyone in costumes ranging from creepy to ridiculous to sexy. You and Kate arrive hand-in-hand, your partner’s dark, intense stare never leaving your side, though she occasionally lets it drift over the crowd with a curious gleam.

While you catch up with Wanda, a loud scream rips through the party, sending a chill down your spine. People scramble, and the panic sets in as whispers spread: someone’s been murdered. From that moment, guests start disappearing, the once-packed house thinning out as one by one, people meet their doom. You feel Kate’s grip on your hand tighten as fear begins to gnaw at you.

Finally, when only a few remain, you glimpse a figure in a Ghostface mask lurking in the shadows. As the masked killer advances, you step back—until you realize that Kate is no longer at your side. The realization clicks in slowly, a thrill of horror and intrigue mingling as you begin to piece it together.

Your breath catches as the figure in the Ghostface mask steps forward, the dim lights casting an ominous shadow over the already blood-splattered floors. The killer moves with a confidence that’s disturbingly familiar—slow, calculated steps that feel chillingly precise, almost practiced.

“Kate?” you whisper under your breath, though your voice betrays the suspicion you’ve had for the past few minutes. She can’t hear you, but you feel the weight of her gaze behind the mask, and something within you tells you that this was always part of the plan.

The figure pauses, just feet away from you, and tilts their head as if to say, You figured it out. With trembling hands, you reach for the mask, barely daring to breathe as you lift it.

Beneath the mask is Kate’s face, her eyes glinting with a mischievous spark and a satisfied grin spreading across her lips. “Took you long enough,” she murmurs, her voice low and teasing.

“What… What did you do?” you manage to ask, your voice wavering between terror and fascination. She steps closer, her hands finding their way around your waist, pulling you against her.

“Just made sure it was a party we’d never forget,” she replies nonchalantly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. You feel the wet warm blood on her fingers against your skin. Her eyes gleam as she leans in, whispering, “Now lets have some fun babe.”

Despite everything, your pulse quickens—not just from fear but from the dangerous allure of Kate's touch and the promise in her gaze.

Kate’s lips crash against yours in a heated, possessive kiss, her hands tangling in your hair as if you’re the only thing grounding her. When she finally pulls back, there's a wild glint in her eyes as she slips the Ghostface mask back on, her voice dropping to a dark, teasing tone.

“Now it’s time for me to have some real fun,” she purrs. Her fingers trace your jawline, sending a shiver down your spine. “Run,” she commands, her voice dripping with anticipation. “And if I catch you… I’ll have my way with you.”

The thrill shoots through you like lightning. You don’t waste another second, spinning on your heel and darting into the maze of halls in Tony Stark’s sprawling mansion. The house looms around you, full of twists and dead ends. Your heart pounds as you slip through shadowed corridors and dimly lit rooms, the pounding of your footsteps echoing through the halls.

You think you hear her behind you—those calm, measured steps almost mocking you, growing louder. You stumble up the stairs, gasping for air as you push through the nearest door, finding yourself in one of the empty guest rooms. You press your back against the wall, holding your breath, ears straining for the sound of her approach.

A slow, taunting voice filters in through the door. “I can hear your heartbeat, you know,” Kate calls. Her words wrap around you, each syllable drenched with dark amusement. “Did you really think you could hide from me?”

Your heart skips a beat as you realize she’s right outside, just beyond the thin barrier of the door. The doorknob turns slowly, and you brace yourself as she steps inside, the mask tilted just enough that her eyes pierce through the dim light, locked solely on you.

The chase is over, and she knows it.

As soon as she steps inside, you dart for the door, hoping to slip past her and make it just a little farther. But Kate’s reflexes are sharp, her hand snapping out to grab your wrist with an iron grip. In one swift motion, she spins you around and presses you firmly against the wall, her body caging you in place.

You’re caught between the cold wall and the heat of her presence, her fingers digging into your wrists as she pins them above your head. Her breathing is steady, almost calm, while yours comes in ragged gasps. She tilts her head, her eyes visible through the mask, smoldering with an intensity that sends shivers through you.

“Thought you could get away from me?” she murmurs, her voice a soft taunt as she leans in, her lips barely brushing against the shell of your ear. “I told you, if I caught you…” She pauses, letting her words hang between you, heavy with promise. “You’re all mine now.”

A flush of adrenaline and thrill rushes through you as her lips graze along your jaw, leaving a trail of heated kisses down your neck. Her hands slowly drift down, finally releasing your wrists but keeping you firmly pressed against the wall with her body.

“You ran well,” she whispers against your skin. “But it's over.”

Kate’s hands trail down your body, lingering just enough to leave you breathless and wanting more. Her touch is possessive, claiming you in a way that should send shivers of fear through you—but instead, every nerve in your body lights up in pure anticipation. You want to resist, to hate her for this dark side that she’s unleashed, but as her lips capture yours again, any resolve you have dissolves completely.

You lean into her, your body betraying any illusion of resistance, craving the warmth of her touch and the intensity she brings. Her fingers trace your curves, igniting a fire that surges through you, leaving you clinging to her as though she’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

She notices the change in you, a smug smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she pulls back just enough to look into your eyes. “You love this, don’t you?” she whispers, her voice a low murmur that sends a thrill straight through you. “You love me.”

And as much as you want to deny it, you can’t. Kate has you wrapped around her finger, heart racing and head spinning. Every twisted, thrilling second of this only makes you fall harder, and you know there’s no escaping—not from her, and not from the way you feel.

Kate’s fingers disappear momentarily, and when she returns, you catch a glimpse of silver gleaming in her hand. Your breath hitches as you realize she’s holding a knife—small and sharp, its blade glinting under the dim lights.

She brings the blade close to your skin, her eyes never leaving yours as she lets it hover near your collarbone. “Don’t move,” she whispers, her voice both a warning and a promise. Slowly, she presses the flat side of the knife against your skin, letting the cold metal glide along your collarbone and down the curve of your shoulder, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

Your heartbeat pounds as her hand moves with expert precision, the blade tracing patterns over your skin, never breaking it but skimming just enough to keep you on edge. She’s in complete control, and there’s a dark satisfaction in her gaze as she watches every shiver that her touch elicits from you.

The knife drifts lower, following the line of your arm, before moving back up to rest just over your racing pulse. “Still with me?” she murmurs, her lips ghosting over your cheek as she leans in close.

You manage a nod, voice caught in your throat, and her grin widens, a hint of pride mingling with something far darker. The blade continues its slow, tortuous path, tracing the line of your neck and collarbone, reminding you with every pass that she has you completely, utterly at her mercy.

The sharp prick of the knife against your skin sends a hiss escaping your lips, a mix of pain and thrill that rushes through you as tiny bubbles of red rise to the surface. Kate’s gaze locks onto the crimson beads, her breath hitching as if she’s savoring every second of your reaction. There’s a hunger in her eyes that goes beyond words, a craving that runs deep, and you can tell she wants more.

Her fingers linger on the knife just a moment longer before her eyes flick back to yours, dark with desire. Slowly, she guides you from the wall toward the bed, her movements calm but unmistakably possessive. The anticipation hangs heavy in the air as she settles you onto the edge, her hands steady as she tilts your chin up to keep your gaze fixed on her.

Kate’s fingers glide over the small mark she’s left on your skin, smearing the faint traces of red as if claiming you in a way that’s both gentle and deeply, darkly intimate. She leans in, her lips barely brushing against your ear as she whispers, “You’re mine… every part of you.”

Her words send a shiver down your spine, and as she pulls back, you feel her hand press you down onto the bed, her fingers trailing possessively along your body. There’s a fire in her eyes, one that promises you’re in for a night that will leave its mark on both your skin and your memory. And as much as you should resist, you can’t help but melt beneath her touch, surrendering entirely to her intoxicating presence.

Kate’s hips press firmly against yours, and the friction of the silicone she’s packing against you makes your eyes flutter, a whimper escaping as she grinds deeper, savoring every reaction. Her hands grip your thighs, holding you steady as she positions herself, the mask barely concealing her wicked grin.

Without hesitation, she sinks into you, and you gasp, feeling her stretch you with ease. She fills you perfectly, her movements slow and purposeful, drawing out every delicious inch. A low groan slips from her lips, muffled beneath the mask as she starts to move, each thrust more intense than the last.

“Fuck, babe,” she pants, her voice heavy with satisfaction as she watches you writhe beneath her. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt you this wet.” Her tone is thick with pride, taunting and possessive, each word making your pulse race faster.

With every thrust, she presses deeper, her rhythm unrelenting as she wraps her hand around your thigh, pulling you closer, her breath quickening as she watches the way you fall apart beneath her. Each moan, each gasp, only seems to spur her on, and you know from the look in her eyes that she’s nowhere near finished with you.

Your release crashes over you, and for a fleeting moment, you think she might give you a second to recover. But Kate’s thrusts don’t relent, and her grip on your thigh only tightens. A dark, determined look settles in her eyes as she grins beneath the mask, her voice a low, possessive growl.

“I’m not done with you, babe. We’re going to keep going,” she promises, her words drenched in intent. She leans in closer, pressing you deeper into the bed, her thrusts driving you into a haze of overstimulation that leaves your head spinning, every nerve alive with a mix of pleasure and intensity.

The blade makes sporadic appearances, gliding across your skin with expert care, just enough to keep your senses heightened. Each pass sends sparks through you, leaving faint red lines that she traces with her fingers, her gaze fixed on your every reaction, almost mesmerized by the effect she has on you.

Your body trembles beneath her, every sensation amplified as the line between pain and pleasure blurs into a dizzying euphoria. She picks up her pace, grinding deeper, watching as you unravel all over again beneath her. The overstimulation is relentless, and as the world spins around you, you can only cling to her, completely at her mercy.

The sun’s first rays spill across the horizon, casting a soft, almost surreal glow over the world as you and Kate finally stumble out of the mansion. You make it to her car, exhausted and exhilarated, bodies aching from the night’s intensity. Kate’s Ghostface costume lies discarded in the backseat, and she’s back to her usual self, though her eyes still hold that dangerous, satisfied gleam as she starts the engine, focused on the road.

You take a deep breath and check your phone, seeing a string of worried messages from Wanda. Your heart clenches as you read them:

Did you make it out?

Please, Y/N, answer me…

If I don’t hear from you soon, I’m calling the cops.

A pang of guilt flickers as you glance over at Kate, who doesn’t seem the least bit concerned as she drives, one hand resting casually on the wheel, fingers tapping to some rhythm only she can hear. You quickly type out a message to reassure Wanda.

I’m fine. I got home with Kate, and we took our minds off things.

A few moments later, your phone buzzes with her reply: Thank god… Just text me later, okay? I was scared. You feel a strange blend of guilt and thrill, thinking back on everything that happened, knowing that the night’s secrets are locked safely between you and Kate.

You slip your phone into your lap, stealing a glance at her, your heart racing all over again as she smirks, catching your gaze. “What?” she teases, a satisfied glint in her eye.

“Nothing,” you reply softly, the thrill from last night lingering as you reach over, your fingers brushing hers. Whatever’s next, you know that with Kate, you’re in for one hell of a ride.

[realisticpregerotica]

Miss Labor Day

Summary: Offered a dubious, though life changing opportunity, Jane participates in a competition to see which mother to be can hold back the birth of their children the longest.

MDNI 18+

Content: 4.7k words, First person POV, drug induced labor, orgasmic birthing.

I was DM’ed by an old friend one night leading up to the event. They were looking for pregnant women for their event. I heard that these pre-labor day events were slowly growing, hell, some of them even made it to local radio stations. 

The amount of money was life changing, not just for a newly single mother down on her luck, but this would fund every financial woe facing me and my unborn child! Sure, the events felt a little fetish-y, but anything could be. All of the events I saw were attended with parents and their young kids! What was the harm if it was PG and if I was kept anonymous?

An email and a phone interview later said I was registered to be a contestant on Labor Day Monday. It was a strain to travel in my state, but a break was what maternity leave was for, right? 

The caller had me record the time and location. Slowed by my waddle, fatigue, and frequent bathroom breaks I finally found backdoor C. I had arrived less than an hour before the event.

Before I knocked, coordinators flooded out of the door and anxiously ushered me inside. They opened every door and took my bags. and pulled out all of the chairs in front of a line of mirrors all covered with ring lights that illuminated all of our attires. Above all of the wardrobes and the passing of makeup people and costume designers were the banners that symbolized the 23rd anniversary of ‘Miss Labor Day. Around were banners and a crude insignia of a company,‘The Maternity Ward’.

A pink paper bag was on the table as they left. 

It made sense! these events were usually cutesy swimsuits, I expected the judges to be adorable old ladies commenting on the mothers to be. The thoughts soothed my nerves of the anxious rush inside and I thought of how the outfit would look as I took off my loose maternity wear. In private I covered myself from head to toe, trying to hide away the harsh realities of my changing body. 

Immediately, my eyes dropped when I found the orange two piece. There wasn’t enough skin covered to modestly shelter my swelling curves and the outfit wasn’t fashionable enough to make the excessive amount of skin worth it. The top was clearly designed for a woman less busty than one about to breastfeed, my boobs were spilling from the sides! And the worst of the outfit came when I looked down

My stomach was large enough to hide the bottoms out of sight entirely, giving the impression that I was completely bottomless. My only reassurance that I was being covered at all was feeling the cloth hug my hips and embarrassingly growing ass. Yet, the space between my legs was cold. With my legs slightly parted from the sheer mass of my midsection, I stared at my behind in the mirror and immediately shut my legs in horror. 

These bottoms left my pussy completely exposed! 

My cheeks flushed from the exposure. This had to have been a mistake… A problem with the wardrobe people, yeah! I had to get it figured out, the event was ready to start at any moment. 

I needed to find somebody. Quick!

The ceiling lights eclipsed over my head. I turned to see the blockage of the light and came face to face with a mountainous sphere inches away from my lips. I darted away, finding myself standing against the counter and face to face with a beautiful woman.  She was large, no shorter than 200cm with a presence to match. Her dark skin and large, full hair made my heart skip a beat with a warm smile on her full lips.

“You have to be the last contestant. Nice to meetcha-” Her eyes focused on my nametag. 

“-Average Jane!” 

“Y-you too!” I stuttered, my face quickly flushing. 

God, she was totally my type. The definition of her abs remained even after the heaviness of her belly hung between her hips, though she had the strength to hold the weight of her unborn child with stability. I swallowed “It’s a little vanilla, isn’t it?”

“Is anything about us vanilla, hun?” she smiled, letting one arm rest comfortably against her tight, heavy stomach. The paper slip around her neck read ‘Muscle Mommy’. The name definitely fit, however outdated it was.  She sported a workout bra and between her exercise tights. Her dark skin was exposed with a large slit between her legs, no different from being naked, I averted my eyes and blushed at her calm disposition.

“Mufu~ Is this who we were waiting on?” Another woman spoke from the edge of the hallway. Her blonde hair was covered by a black shawl with a black gown and a white blouse. Across her collarbone above her own huge round that pushed out explicitly from her gown was a catholic cross. My eyebrow furled at the blatant contradiction, causing me to evaluate her whole appearance.

Whether it was the tightness of the blouse and the slit opening to expose her thighs, any depiction of a nun would have made this appearance sacrilege. She cocked her head, looking down at me. 

“An example will certainly be made of her, shortly. That baby looks seconds away from flying out of her. The only woman larger than her-” 

“Would be me!”  Said a high voice with a distinct accent. A smaller girl with a comically large belly came between us carrying her stomach as she approached us. Her sun kissed skin shined with her long, jet black hair. Her neck and wrists were dawned with turquoise beads and a humble ponytail, she looked… pure. Holy even! Especially compared to the last contestant! An open midriff and a white bikini top that fit her smaller chest, her white skirt wasn’t bordered with underwear. 

“My goddess has bestowed the privilege of bearing life.” Her hands hovered over her own tag with disappointment. “I am to be called Pele, but this name is a disservice to her, but I will wear her name as her devout supporter.”

From behind the rest of the cast was a woman with a quiet presence with incredibly sharp features with an incredibly round stomach that jutted from her clothing as she stretched. A Central Asian woman with indigo and gold of her loose clothing displayed her incredible flexibility in front of a full body mirror. She had beautiful, high cheekbones and almond eyes of my platonic idea of a vixen. She seemed to have been caught off guard by the sudden eyes on her. Meekly, she waved, saying something in a foreign language and pointed to her tag. 

‘Acro-bab’

Muscle Mommy threw her arm around my shoulder, making me sit straight up. Maternity looked downright stunning on each of these women “Any lady who has gotten this far has a real chance of winning. This isn’t anything compared to motherhood!

Before we could interact any longer a woman wearing a headset poked her head into the fitting room. “Ladies, it’s go time!” 

We were ushered behind a closed curtain and told to stand behind taped ‘x’s on the floor. The curtain lifted, letting in spotlights and exposing the dozens of people in masks. Ladies in scrubs hid out on the corners away from the sight of the audience 

Though facial features couldn’t be made out articles of clothing were missing, bare legs, chests, bras. A roar of cheers erupted as the audience turned in their seats, visibly aroused at the sight of our round exposed bodies.

I wanted to cover my body. This… This was not the PG event that I had expected it to be. 

A man in a tophat and a monocle stood before the crowd. He appeared far younger than his by his attire as he introduced each of us. His mid Atlantic accent was the perfect voice for radio. “Now, to our main event. With special thanks to ‘The Maternity Ward’ for sponsoring our 23rd annual ‘Miss Labor Day’ event!” 

What have I got myself into?

“In celebration of your endeavor, we present you with women willing to present their endeavor as they bring new lives into the world.” I looked around me. Everybody embraced the announcement with a smile, even Acro-bab flaunted her stomach proudly towards the crowd. 

“Let us celebrate you in attendance and these mothers to be when we find out who will be the 23rd annual ‘Miss Labor Day!’”

There’s no way…

Men dawned in black and white stripes blocked either side of the stage and approached each of the women with a gigantic needle into various parts of their bodies. The needles disappeared into Mommy's forearm, the contortionist’s collar, and even into Pele’s belly with no regard for the unborn residents inside. 

I felt queasy remembering all of the blood I had drawn throughout my pregnancy. I leaned away from the rest of the ladies and felt the cold prick of a needle enter the side of my neck. Icy fluid poured into my bloodstream.

The proximity from my head made me feel like the drug was injected straight into my brain. It lit up my entire body. I was hot, and I needed to spread this heat to somebody else. I looked to my stomach, “Mnnn-haaaa!” I whined as I felt my body keel over to address the sudden ache in my midsection. 

My heart started to pound as all of the ladies around me had similar reactors. Fluttering eyelids, a biting of the lip, and blushes being worn on our cheeks. I could keep my eyes off the muscular woman, watching her body flush and tighten with all of the orgastic sensations claiming our bodies. 

It took effort for me to still my legs. I had no idea how long had passed since the injection. My whole body started to light up as I struggled to stay upright. The room was spinning around me. I was so hot, all of these eyes on me. My pussy began to ache. Even with all of the eyes on me I craved feeling my fingers inside of me to relieve the growing pressure deep within. 

“A-Ah!” I gasped. My baby jabbed a foot sharply through their shrinking home, harder than every fetal kick they had ever delivered before. My uterus fought back, clamping down against my unborn child in retaliation that doubled me over.

“Jane, you doin’ alright?” Muscle Mommy asked. I went to reply, but a string of consonants flowed from my mouth instead. Unpreventable sensations that resembled the same loss of control like the middle of an orgasm.

Before I knew it a squeal escaped my tight throat I felt fluids spill from me. I clasped my thighs as much as I could like I could catch my waters as it ruptured. Amniotic fluid pooled against the wooden floor below me. Everybody's eyes fell to me

I started this race in last place…

Before there was too much dead air Miracle Baby let out a gasp as well. Her knees trembled as a steady but modest stream of water began to drip between her legs as well. The sound of chains were muffled between her legs. I wasn’t the only person who noticed. The women in pink scrubs whispered something to the announcer.

“Mnnn-haaaa!” I couldn’t silence the noises coming from my mouth. All I could imagine were my inconsolable moans in the crowd of strangers. The contractions started from my back and worked their way to consume my entire midsection. Every second with the drug forcefully rammed my baby’s head into my ridgid cervix.

As the minutes passed the other ladies' water broke as well. Muscle Mommy’s dampened her tights as they spilled as she controlled her breathing. Pele’s exploded dramatically from between her legs, making everybody flinch; followed by the petite mother. And last was Acrobab, who slowly began to leak as she rolled her hips restlessly.

“O-o-oh fuUUCK!!” I cried as I clenched my stomach. Weeks of Braxton Hicks couldn't have prepared me for the hormone induced contractions that forcibly seized my muscles. Despite the pain, the unnatural urge to please this sensation between my hips overtook me. 

There was no way I could feel like this, I was giving birth!

“Ah-ah-ah. Language.” The host commented, before I could retaliate I was slammed again. 

“OHHH GODDD!!” I screamed as I felt my abused birth canal spread with the rigid body of my baby. I wanted relief, something, ANYTHING to take away the pain. Through squinted eyes I saw the line of women swaying gently. All but one woman, whose struggle relieved some of the pressure pounding it’s way into my birth canal.

“D-don't use the lord's name in vain.” Miracle Babe scolded.  She wasn’t doing any better than I was. Her face was pale white as it dripped with sweat. 

A painful contraction overtook her. The blond woman dropped to her knees and made her headdress fall. A throaty growl sounded from her throat as she held her thigh up and bore down with all of her might. The nurses whispered amongst each other and then to the officials while her teeth gnashed with the struggle of childbirth.

Audience members whispered as their strokes between their legs slowed. In front of the audience wasn’t her bare sex, but a strip of black leather that tightly wrapped around her. 

The officials circled around her and threw her cheap dress over her sore, red stomach.

A leather belt bulged horrifically between her legs. There was tension as she was overwhelmed by another contraction. “UHHHHNNNNGGGHH!!!!” She screamed between clenched teeth. The belt trembled, fighting against her body's desire to expel the child inside of her stomach.

“Goodness, that must be a chastity belt. A ‘Miss Labor Day’ first!” The announcer sounded. 

“That’s a blatant violation of the rules. With less excuses than, well, a pregnant nun!”

Nurses piled between her legs with scissors in their hands. Miracle Babe tried to crawl away, kicking her legs while overwhelmed by her contractions.

“P-please, not here, not now! It’s gonna come out!!'' she begged as they got between her legs. The trauma shears completed their cut The belt was snipped as Miracle Babe’s vagina was exposed. She was tattooed with tally marks above her upper thigh. Lord could only imagine what the count was. The ink took a backseat to the glistening crown embedded between her legs, and it was only getting bigger.

I watched her eyes grow wide.

“AAAAANNNNH!!! NOOOOO-!” she screamed as her hole unnaturally exploded into a full crown. She no longer had any control over her body. The drug demanded her baby would be born. Her back arched as she surrendered to the birthing drugs.

“HNNNNNNNNGGGGGHHHH!!!” The shoulder of the fake nun’s baby slipped free from their mother’s opening as the rest of the body hit the hard wood with a wet thud where she stood. The umbilical cord hung from her pussy to the floor where her baby wailed. Miracle Babe fell flat on her back with her legs opened towards the audience. Her eyes shot into the back of her head and her tongue shot out. Her poor baby squirmed between the legs of their incapacitated mother as the midwives pressed stethoscopes into the blonde woman’s stomach and took care of the child.

For the first time since the drug was injected into me I felt my body go limp with shock. There was a real baby, a real child from a long pregnancy that was carried by a woman whose name I didn’t even know. They really let her baby be born on stage! 

“What an embarrassment to her faith.” Pele uttered with closed eyes.  She sat cross legged, allowing the audience to gaze between her legs. Through the tightest slit in her vulva there was the shape of a head between her legs. Suddenly, she went quiet, entering a trance-like state of controlled inhales and exhales. It was as if she wasn’t resisting the drugs at all!

“Hoo… Hoo…” Acro-bab's chest began to heave. Before her beautiful face allowed her body to progress another moment for her labor her forearms fell to the floor and she arched her back. 

My heart started to race seeing her shape in that downward facing position. Her lean body wore her appealingly disproportionate curves beautifully. Her breathy moans were eye-catching as her belly formed a polygon with every contraction. Through the power of gravity her baby was held in.

The other women were slowly affected as I writhed with agony on the floor. I tried my hardest to keep my knees clenched together. My thighs sandwiched themselves together 

“Tight… Competition” Muscle Mommy said. I saw the corner of her lip twitch as her attention was pulled from her. I watched her muscular midsection seize with tremendous force. The uncontrollable contraction of all of her muscles bearing down to birth her child. “U-ung…” She groaned, as finally she was forced to a knee on the ground  She spaced off into the distance to fight the urges of her body.

The competitor who was worse for wear had the head of an infant comfortably embedded between her legs. Pele kept her legs splayed open as she arched her back, with high pitched pants as she listened to her body’s desire to birth her child. An infant much smaller than the indication of her stomach peeked under her skirt. 

She looked so peaceful, like she had prepared her entire life for this. The urgency of competition seemed completely lost on her.  

Her chest arched towards the sky “Mnnnhhhhaaaa~!” She moaned with one final push, welcoming her child. The baby entered the world gently against the wooden surface.

“Pele has been eliminated!” The host announced. The young woman blinked away lusty cloudiness while she panted softly. Unbothered, she crawled over to her child and cradled them in their arms. She kissed her child’s head and let them latch to her breast whispering foggily with a satisfied smile.

Doulas surrounded her. The eyes of the woman carrying the stethoscope went wide, immediately rushing towards the announcer. 

Though her womb had been emptied her stomach still laid especially round. The tiny woman drew a long breath, and with an exhale another pop of fluids gushed from between her thighs

“My-my folks! Pele has another child making their arrival today! She’s still in the competition.”. No wonder she was so smug! There was a backup baby inside of her!

With the other three ladies standing strong I felt so pathetic as I kicked against the floor. Every breath was agony. With every oxytocin induced contraction I could feel the head pound my cervix into painful dilation. I wasn’t sure if it was thousands of years of evolution that forced me to open my legs or the gigantic fucking head that just began to spread my lips apart.

As I looked to my side I saw the lean, powerful legs of the Acro-bab splayed open from her upside down position. Her face was red and sweaty, her grit teeth and tears made it clear she couldn’t hold her unbreakable position for long. The head of her baby emerged from the split between her legs. 

I could see desperation in her eyes for a moment before she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. 

In an amazing display of control she sprawled her legs straight into a handstand, maintaining a perfect arch to hold her child upside down into her stomach. I imagined all of that weight and pressure fighting against gravity. I could imagine the rigid walls of her uterus tied in a compact knot as the crowning head receded back into her lips

“OWWWW, FUCK!” I screamed. I clutched my stomach as I felt something round press against my opening into the dry air. My shaky hands reached between my legs to feel the wet orb forcing my hips apart. My baby was being born. I couldn’t hold back much longer!

Then, I heard a moan from my left.

“Unnnngggghhhh!” She groaned with the loss of control. All the energy of her body was sapped by the drug. Her chest heaved up and down as hair fought to get into her lungs. The crown emerged from her skyward facing gash.

In her moment of complacency, Acro-bab slipped. Her legs dipped behind her head as her infant slid out cartoonishly to the side of her head. Her muscles relaxed, and her face relaxed into the same feeling of euphoria that Miracle Babe wore. She looked so ecstatic to finally be done with such a situation and the act of pregnancy. I envied her…

But now there were only two other competitors. 

My breasts grew sore at the sound of Pele's baby coo softly. In an instant, Muscle Mommy and I knew what needed to be done.

Pele flinched as she leaned into the Muscle Mommy. “Oh, Goddess!” She pleaded as she arched into her competitor. Her foggy eyes were adorable as she continued to labor.

My hands found her lower belly. Fuck, she was beautiful. Not just for a woman in labor. But divine, like her body was made to deliver children as the second head began to peak towards me. 

The area that had already been stimulated by the drugs and her first child. The uncontrollable shift in her muscles as another contraction was induced. “Pushhhh.” Just then, I felt my own contraction begin to bind my abdomen again. My hand dipped between her legs as I supported my weight around the beautiful tan skin of her belly. 

“Goddess… Thank you…” she moaned quietly under her breath. Her eyes were barely cracked open. Her mind was outside of this plane; she allowed herself to enjoy every side effect of the drug. “I am humbled to give life in this bliss, Goddess…” I saw Muscle Mommy’s eye twinge from the feeling of the smaller woman’s body lay into her for support. 

“Nnnhhhhgggggggg!!!” I moaned, feeling my baby’s head open into the world. I could feel my ether region split towards the crowd even through the resistance of my fingers as the skin of my entrance burned for the widest portion of my baby’s head.

But Pele was closer. She pushed all of her tiny body’s weight into her. Her little moans were adorable, the little sliver of a second hairy head spread her lips open. I could feel the muscles of her petite waist tighten as her tummy squeezed its round from out between her legs. 

The sound of all three of our moans overlapped as we tried to hold back our labor. All except for Pele. Her voice peaked and gave one final push. The head in my hands popped with a gush around the ears. Her pussy clung onto the child, feeling every surface with a loud groan. Her modestly sized infant slid into my hands. Pele’s stomach finally deflated with a kiss of adorable postpartum pudge.

With Pele’s unconscious body between us. Muscle Mommy stared at me holding Pele’s baby. Her gaze was kind, but she knew she was firmly in the lead. 

“May the best mommy win.” She winked as the young mother and her babies were assisted off stage. 

Her body distracted me, her perfectly sculpted figure and all of her tight, muscular curves. I could only imagine how powerful the baby inside of her was. Her belly sat comfortably between her legs, allowing her baby’s head to be comfortably held into her pelvis.

I couldn’t move, my legs were forced open by my baby’s head. With every breath it felt like my child’s body would stretch me to capacity and I would finally give birth. She had amazing control over her pelvic floor. Her abs rolled in a display of strength that I only wished I could hold.

One more contraction overtook my body from my spine to my belly button. The muscles of my tired uterus guided my baby to my opening. “It’s coming!” I screamed. My pussy burned as I crowned. My baby’s head stretched me horrifically, I could feel my tight opening burn to accommodate the head.

“UNNNGGHHHH!!” I snarled through teary eyes and grit teeth. Muscle Mommy was before me, controlling her breathing while the head of her child had just started to peek through while I could feel my baby’s head dangle from the back.

My cheek hit the floor in defeat.

I submitted. I drew air into my chest and forced all of my strength into my belly. My baby’s body didn’t budge. I moved my heavy legs further apart, feeling the head of my partially birthed child dampen my thighs and arched my back to give into my body’s violent urge to deliver my child.

“URRRRRRNNNNGGGGHHH!!!” I cried with grit teeth, enough to make my swollen body tremble with the effort. All of the pressure transferred directly to my baby's shoulder, caught uncomfortably into my pelvis. My baby didn’t budge…

“A-aha!” I heard my voice fill the room. I didn’t even recognize my own voice.

“AHAAHAHAHAHA!!” My powerful laughs shook my body, and even as my heavily pregnant body rumbled my baby’s shoulders didn’t budge.

“It’s stuck!” I laughed maniacally. No matter what I did my baby was stuck! The drama of the moment took hold of me. The prize, the competition, all social convection and inhibitions crumbled in the time it took for me to deliver the rest of my child. For a moment, nothing else mattered! I wasn’t guaranteed a damn thing, and I was going to enjoy these final moments before I became a mother. 

I closed the distance between myself and the muscular woman. I was close enough to see. I pulled her into my body and into a kiss with all of the pent up feelings for the beautiful mother before me. 

“J-Jane?” She asked as I crawled towards her with a blush and heavy breaths. I was within arms length before I reached out, holding her face and running my fingers through her hair. “You’re so pretty.” 

The drug had been taking a toll on her too as she accepted my kiss. Her plush lips made me want to sink my hands into her laboring body as I made out with her. Muscle Mommy’s belly was so gigantic and as hard as steel, but under my fingertips I could feel those muscles surrender. “Mmmfff!” She cried under my lips. She drew deep breaths that were stifled by a deep kiss against her neck.

I could feel her powerful abs bear down with the pressure. All of her weight pressed into my stomach. I could feel the fruits of her pregnancy squeeze me. Her hungry hips thrusted into my hands while I played with her opening pussy

Our tongues wrapped around each other and I could feel her face tighten with effort. “MMMMNNNNFFFFGHHHH!!” 

I stroked her face as the strong woman melted into a maternal puddle in my arms. I held her baby’s head, feeling the power behind her final push from on top of my body. From against my womb I felt her baby exit as she, too, fell limp against my body. 

Her baby laid between our legs. 

“Ladies and gentleman, with a massive upset, your winner of the 23rd official Miss Labor Day- Average Jane! ” More midwives rolled in with a gurney and towels to assist Muscle Mommy off of the floor. The announcer approached me with a trophy and a gigantic check. But I was preoccupied .

The shutter of cameras caught me with my back on the floor with a trophy hoisted in my arms. I toyed with my clit with a midwife on either side of me, aware to keep myself open for the money shot. 

With the final pulse of the drug my child’s shoulder was freed by the assisting hands around me. “OUUUUGGHHHHHH!!” My legs flew into the air, the drug peaked induced my climax and the birth of my child as an orgasm tore through my entire body. The primal sensation of labor peaked as my baby’s shoulder exploded from between my legs. 

I heard my child cry right beside me as nurses assisted me off the stage. I knew my life had changed forever when I began to wonder how many times I would be Miss Labor Day.

[swampstew]

𝓢𝓾𝓹𝓮𝓻 𝓢𝓮𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓽 𝓗𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓳𝓮𝓬𝓽 ~ 𝓤𝓷𝓿𝓮𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓭

October is for ghouls and treats! I am excited to announce this collaboration with my amazing friends who have graciously volunteered to help me bring some seasonal fun to the fandom. Let's have a costume contest but make it One Piece!

𝐵𝓊𝑔𝑔𝓎'𝓈 𝒮𝓅𝑜𝑜𝓀𝓉𝒶𝒸𝓊𝓁𝒶𝓇 𝒮𝓅𝑒𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓁

Our favorite blorbos are being put in situations - this one being signed up for a costume contest. Every Sunday in October, 2 blogs will post their costume contest story submissions for fandom to enjoy. Dates are: October 1st, 8th, 15th, 22nd, and 29th. All stories will be linked back to this announcement for easy reference.

On October 29 - after the last story posts, a voting poll will be posted for fandom to vote on their favorite character's costume to "Win" the contest. The poll will run for 24 hours ONLY. Don't worry, we'll add everyone's story links to the poll too if you need a refresher before you vote!

On October 31st, the winner will be announced along with a special treat! Won't spoil what it is so you'll have to vote and see👀

Your authors:

@swampstew @quinloki @zoros-sheath @icy-spicy @writing-yarn-goblin @mew-ya @bulle-d-bulliver @sanjis-all-blue @leakyweep

Note: this collaboration was pre-planned and organized. We are not accepting requests for costumes or character suggestions. Do not harass the writers. Love your writers. Support your writers. Reblog writers' stories.

Costume Entries:

October 1: Swampstew - Eustass Kid - Slutty Sauron | Quinloki - Marco, Ace & Reader - Full Metal Alchemist October 8: Zoros-Sheath - Zoro, Kaku & Reader - Little Red Riding Hood | Sanjis-All-Blue - Diez Drake & Reader - The Princess Bride October 15: LeakyWeep - Doflamingo & Reader & Rosinante - Twilight | Icy-Spicy - Killer - The First Man October 22: Writing-Yarn-Goblin - Bartolomeo & Reader - American Gothic Painting | Mew-ya - Katakuri & Reader - Frankenstein's Monster October 29: Bulle-D-Bulliver - Kin'emon & O-tsuru & Reader & Kiku as the 4 Musketeers | Quinloki - Buggy the Red Nosed Reindeer

VOTING IS NOW LIVE

The Winner

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

Another thing I am loving about this series is how they are using games as metaphor. I already talked some about the monopoly game, and here we got another one. I was so sure that the video game was rigged too, and it was, only not in the way we expected.

You get a moment where you think you're going to finally get a little catharsis by Lompran losing, but of course it's not really a loss, because once again the rich guy has stacked the deck in his own favor, with the poor as his literal game pieces.

On top of all that, Lompran dressing as a caricature of a poor person, a costume where he dirties his face in parody of real people's pain, in yet another "game" that he forces his staff to play. Which, I should point out, was clearly targeted to his female staff.

It's such a fascinating contrast to Rose and Jack, because she sees her time with him as romantic, yet with their power differential, the truth is that she is just another rich person getting someone else to dress up and play with them for their own satisfaction. This isn't hate for her, she's not doing it with malice, but it's a symptom of the system she is still not capable of questioning.

And it wasn't an accident that while Jack and Lompran were playing their game, Rose's surface-level "let's lift people out of poverty" game show was going on. Where Tattoo, Arun, and Hoy performed for the privilege of a prize.

Yet of course this is not the kind of game where anyone will truly win, the panel gets to sit there and judge, and make the contestants dance, but no one is truly being saved here.

They had an opportunity to look at Tattoo and see talent and creativity worthy of investing in, but they didn't see his idea as marketable, so they didn't care anymore. Because they only care about the prizes, the tangibles, not the essence of the people they are rejecting.

Just layers upon layers here. It's so well done!