#there was so much there to explore!!! and yet!!!

[flqwerjo]

─── 𝑻𝑜𝑜 𝑴𝑢𝑐ℎ ?

˚.❀𝑷𝐴𝐼𝑅𝐼𝑁𝐺 ─── Bf!Riki x Reader

˚.❀𝑺𝑌𝑁𝑂𝑃𝑆𝐼𝑆 ─── your boyfriend is just so big :(

˚.❀𝑮𝐸𝑁𝑅𝐸/𝐶𝑊 ─── smut drabble(mdni), belly bulge, size difference/reader implied smaller than him , unrealistic fictional smut (!!), first time having sex together, size kink, protected sex ˚.❀𝑾𝑂𝑅𝐷 𝐶𝑂𝑈𝑁𝑇 ─── 0.9k

                               𝒄ℎ𝑒𝑐𝑘 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑢𝑡ᵎᵎ (˶˃⤙˂˶)

Today was the night , the night you and your lovely , caring boyfriend were going to try and have sex again. Yes , again. The two of you had been dating for around 4 months , having promised to each other to take things slow — that already failed within the first month when just kissing turned into a heated make out session . Your boyfriend was just too irresistible and his kisses always had you yearning for more , plus , he was a very good kisser. You soon figured out that he wasn't only good with kissing your upper lips , but your other lips too.

Yes , again , the two of you had promised to take things slow — but some promises were just meant to be broken. Around the second month mark , the two of you decided to slowly explore each other's bodies to see what the other likes and doesn't like — in the sexual aspect , now he knows your body like the back of his hand.

But there was one promise the two of you stayed to without breaking it — having sex together when the both of you were ready for it and wanted it. You were ready and so was he , he just forgot how much smaller you were than him and so did you — you were barely able to handle two of his fingers at once when he fingered you for the first time :(

You've tried once , twice, even thrice — but it never worked whenever he tried to put his cock past your tight hole , the furthest he had managed to go was the tip of his cock barely inside you.

"Are you sure Princess ? We can try another time , I can just eat you out again if you want ?", the palm of his hand was warm against your cheek as he gently caressed it , his eyes focused on your face instead of your pussy that was hovering right above his cock. It was one of those times again where the two of you tried to have sex , try to fit his cock inside of your tight little pussy — you were starting to get frustrated , you really wanted him , no , you needed him.

So , you've decided to try and be on top. "No.. I want to try again...", you mumbled under your breath as you grabbed the base of his cock , his eyes closing upon feeling your touch on it before he opened them again to look at you , his eyes studying the expression on your face — you were so frustrated that your eyebrows were furrowed , lips formed in a little pout. Your boyfriend didn't spend at least an hour stretching your pussy out with his fingers and making you cum a couple times with his tongue just for it to not work again.

You lowered your hips a little until the head of his cock was pressing against your entrance , rubbing the tip between your sticky folds to lubricate his latex covered cock with your arousal before you took a deep breath and pressed his tip against your entrance. You bit your bottom lip slightly as the small burn started to make its appearance , the head of his cock slowly stretching your hole as it pushed inside of you. The stretch was bearable and the pain hadn't hit you yet so you kept going until the head of his cock has disappeared inside of you.

Riki's eyes were watching you like a hawk , his breath hitching when he saw the tip of his cock slowly go inside of your tight heat. Your hands rested on his chest now to brace yourself as you continued to lower yourself down , a quiet wince out of pain leaving your lips as the stretch was starting to burn and sting the more you took of him.

"Almost there Princess... you got half of me inside you..", Riki encouraged as he put his hands on top of yours , rubbing his thumbs into the back of your hands gently. And you kept going , your nails scratching his chest slightly as you finally bottomed out , a whimper coming from you as you felt just how deep he was pressing inside of you. "You did it Angel... did such a good job for me", Riki mumbled as he gently grabbed the back of your head and pulled your head down to him so he could kiss your forehead gently."It's so... big...", you breathed out , your voice breathless and trembling as your words came out as a whisper.

His other hand grabbed your waist just to hold you , slowly caressing from your waist to your stomach which made him pause in his tracks. You didn't pay much attention to it and slowly started to move your hips as you got used to the stinging pain that slowly started to feel good the more you moved — rolling your hips back and forth before you leaned over and placed your hands next to his head as you slowly started to lift your hips up and down.

Your movements confirmed what he was feeling , the low moan of a curse vibrating in his chest. "Fuck... angel , I can feel myself inside you whenever you move... I'm all the way up to your stomach", his words made you pause and move back , hands resting on top of his thighs so you could take a look at your belly and there it was — the subtle bulge showing through your belly and fuck , it was just making you wetter and feel more aroused , the feeling of arousal was mutual for Riki. He had to collect all the self restraint in his body to not slam your hips up and down just to see his own fucking cock move inside of you.

"Fuck.... cover my eyes , If I'll keep watching you ride my cock like you own it and watch myself move inside of you , I'll cum too early."

[redlinespeedster]

A FAMILIAR TOUCH !! ☆

lando norris 𝒙 best friend fem!reader

[summary] You like taking risks, you crave danger, yet he is your everyday routine… and somehow, that excites you too. You’d been friends for so long that his touch on your skin feels like a familiar whisper: his hands steady on your shoulders, his fingers slowly tracing your hips. You can recognize the warmth of his body from a distance. But when he finally slips between your legs for the first time, all that familiarity shatters into a rush of new sensations — an intense, addictive pleasure you never expected to feel with him.

[warnings] Smut !! car sex, oral sex & fingering (fem receiving), dirty talk. Spanish is my first language, and I usually write all my fics in Spanish first, then translate them myself with a lot of effort. Sorry if anything sounds off or if there are mistakes. (2.5k)

[notes] Just writing this ‘cause I know deep down Lando would be the kind of friend like “you’re my best friend… but I’d totally wreck you if I got the chance” 🙃

He wasn’t in love with you, or anything like that.

Or maybe he was? He wasn’t entirely sure. All he knew was that he’d wanted you pretty much since the day you met in school. Even back when his preteen brain couldn’t fully grasp what desire or attraction even meant.

He didn’t know if it was your personality, how kind you were to everyone, the sun-kissed blush on your cheeks, or just how pretty you were—but he wanted to be close to you. And maybe that alone was enough to make you inseparable. Best friends. Almost like siblings? No, that was something your mom said once, and it made Lando’s stomach turn with disgust.

What truly mattered was that it wasn’t until his desire began to awaken that he realized what he actually felt for you. Intense fantasies and lust-filled dreams ambushed him at all hours, and you were in every single one of them—whether you were riding him in desperation or lying beneath his body, utterly surrendered. The position or place didn’t matter; what drove him mad was having you there, so vivid in his mind, pushing him to the edge even in the moments he tried hardest to stay composed… especially when you walked around in that summer pajama that barely covered the essentials.

You didn’t even try to make it easier for him. You’d sit on his lap, brushing up against him without realizing it, as if he weren’t a man, as if he couldn’t feel every one of your movements or sense what they were stirring inside him. For years, you never understood why he had to distance himself from you—you thought maybe you were crossing a line, taking advantage of his trust. But as you got older, you remembered it clearly and finally understood.

Still, you never spoke of it again.

It had never crossed your mind that he might be attracted to you—not even after everything that had happened. Sure, you’d noticed that constant need he had to hug you, to cuddle you, to run his fingers through your hair. You also remembered the times he’d move you off his lap because he was getting hard and his pants were too tight—but you figured it was just a natural physical reaction. Maybe his body just responded to the slightest touch, because in adolescence it’s common to get aroused from something as simple as a bit of contact. You were a complete idiot for not realizing what was really going on.

Because as you grow older, things become clearer—and the sexual tension between you becomes unbearable. To the point where neither of you really knows what you’re feeling… or how to define it.

Lando can’t stop imagining himself inside you, losing himself between your legs. And you’ve started to crave his touch—the one that used to be just warm and friendly—hoping he lingers longer, hoping his hands start to explore you with more intent and desire.

But despite it all, the two of you keep pretending in front of the world that you’re just best friends, both convinced that you’ll never be anything more than that.

That discomfort resurfaces every time you’re alone with him again. Even now—coming back from a party you didn’t want to go to and he didn’t want to leave, but did anyway, just because you asked him to. His hands grip the steering wheel so tightly you can tell even without looking at him, because your eyes are lost in the car window.

He looks at you like he’s undressing you with his eyes, shamelessly, staring especially at the part of your thighs you left exposed. You feel that gaze—heavy, filthy—and a chill runs down your spine. Because you know he thinks you don’t notice. Like you’re naive. And that’s what pisses you off the most: that he’s such a coward. That he doesn’t have the guts to look you in the eye and admit he’s dying to fuck you.

You squeeze your thighs together just because you know he notices. You do it slowly, deliberately, like a silent challenge. What used to be an awkward tension between teenagers is now a game you play to perfection. You can almost hear him clench his jaw, feel his whole body tighten. And the best—or the worst—part is, he knows you’re doing it on purpose. To provoke him. To drive him insane.

His eyes don’t leave the road, determined not to get distracted—though the temptation you represent is nearly unbearable. He tries to convince himself that the sexual thoughts consuming him now are just a consequence of the alcohol he had earlier at the party. But he knows that’s not true. Those burning, forbidden desires have always been there, every time he’s with you. And not even alcohol can justify all these years of obsessive fantasies, of the deep urge to hold you in his arms.

“Aren’t you gonna say something?”

But Lando pretends not to understand. He thinks you’re talking about the party you just left, or about the fact that he’s driving at a snail’s pace after a few too many drinks.

But it’s clear that’s not what you mean.

“What d’you want me to say?” he asks. The car stops across the street, and he lets go of the wheel to focus all his attention on you.

The tension between you is almost unbearable.

You stare at him intently, and he notices a different sparkle in your eyes, something he had never seen before, almost as if it were new. He doesn’t know how to describe it because he was never used to you looking at him that way. It’s a gaze full of desire, intense and almost tangible, as if you longed to have him so close that you wanted to move until you were sitting on his lap, in the driver’s seat, invading his space and his skin.

His pupils dilate. Only he can decide when to kiss you, how to do it, and how much he’s going to leave you trembling afterward. Maybe that’s why his hand grips the back of your neck tightly, forcing you to lean in until his lips crash against yours with fierce need. The kiss is anything but gentle: it’s intense, clumsy, desperate. He bites you, licks you, invades your mouth as if it were his own. As if he had been holding back for years, when in reality it was only half a lifetime.

No one had kissed you like that before. No one had made you feel that a kiss could leave you breathless, without pride, without control. He kisses you as if he wanted to mark you, break you, tear your soul out with his tongue. As if with that kiss he could devour you alive and still be hungry.

You want to move toward his seat, but he’s the one who lunges at you, pinning you against the closed car window. His body presses against yours urgently, and your hands clutch his jacket, squeezing it hard to pull him even closer. He kisses you hungrily, as if what’s making him drunk isn’t the drinks he had but the taste of your mouth, your tongue, your hot saliva mixing with his.

His hands roam over your clothes with a slow touch that gives you goosebumps, as if he wants to memorize every curve through the feeling. He kisses you with desire while his fingers explore the sequins on your dress, stopping intentionally at your neckline. There, he strokes firmly and precisely, and for a moment, you feel your breath catch, as if his touch could ignite you from within.

Your heart pounds hard, almost painfully fast. Every brush of his hands against your skin sends a shiver down your spine, and the heat pooling low in your belly becomes an urgent need. You’re so wet you can feel it clearly, soaking through the fabric between your thighs. Lando notices—he drinks in the sight with his eyes. Without hesitation, he pushes your dress up to your waist, leaving you exposed to him. A desire-filled smile spreads across his face as his fingers trace the edge of your underwear slowly, as if he’s trying to memorize every detail before taking it off.

“Look at you…” he murmurs, voice rough. “So fucking wet for me.”

And then he lowers his head, dead set on tasting you.

His lips press against your pussy, still covered by your clothes, licking and kissing with an intensity that seeps through the fabric. His hands grip your thighs firmly, forcing you to open up for him, exposing you, wanting you vulnerable beneath his mouth. You feel him move right where you need him the most, his tongue tracing slow, teasing circles, but everything is still filtered by the fabric, and it’s driving you insane. You want him with nothing in between—raw, skin to skin—but he just smiles against you, savoring the power of making you beg without a single word.

“Why are you so fucking desperate, baby?” he whispers. “You want my tongue to ruin you? Drive you insane?” He lifts his head slightly, and his eyes burn with a lust that mirrors your own, igniting the fire between you.

You nod desperately, and Lando leans back down until his warm breath grazes your underwear again. The fabric slides to the side with a single movement of his fingers—not taking it off, just shifting it enough. Your legs tremble on either side of his head, open, exposed. Then his tongue begins to slowly glide over your pussy, tracing soft, deliberate lines—so slow it feels like sweet torture. Each stroke pulls a muffled moan from your lips, while he clings to your thighs like he has no intention of letting you go.

And then, when he hears you moan with a broken voice, writhing beneath his tongue and begging for more, he sinks between your legs with an almost feral devotion. He sucks you, licks you, devours you like the world ends there—like your body is the only drug capable of making him lose control. His tongue moves with precise rhythm, soaking in you, savoring every part of your sex, stopping to suck your clit until you’re trembling. He doesn’t let up: he spreads you open with his fingers, explores you, takes you to the edge again and again. Your back arches uncontrollably, your moans fill the car, your legs shake and your fingers tangle in his hair while your hips move on their own—seeking more, demanding more. You’re completely his, undone with pleasure, lost between his mouth and your gasps.

“Lando… fuck,” you whimper through sobs, voice trembling and your body utterly given to him. You’re so on edge that every touch, every thrust of his fingers, pulls you closer to the brink. You feel them pushing in and out of you with a steady, deep rhythm, then curling inside, rubbing that spot with a precision that makes your back arch and his name fall from your lips like a prayer. The heat between your legs is unbearable, and every move he makes leaves you wetter, more desperate, more his.

He hadn’t realized just how long he’d craved having you like this—completely surrendered. It didn’t matter if it was in the car, his place, or your bedroom. He had only dreamed of seeing you like this: breathless with every lick, moaning with pleasure while his eyes glazed over with desire—never stopping, tracing every inch of you with his tongue until you were trembling, soaked, and drained of all strength.

He could spend hours between your legs, but he knows you won’t last much longer. Not like this—not with his tongue plunging deep inside you, exploring every spot with shameless hunger. There’s no resisting it. He feels the way you shudder and twist beneath him, right on the edge, seconds away from coming all over his face. His grip tightens around your thighs, ready to take the heat of your complete surrender.

“Bet you fuckin’ love my tongue inside you, huh? Didn’t even stop to think this shit might be wrong—that maybe we shouldn’t be doing this.”

You feel his eyes locked on you, unblinking, as his fingers drive into you without mercy, going deep until you can’t take anymore—until the pleasure overwhelms you and you have no choice but to give in.

His smile is wicked, not a trace of guilt in sight, fully enjoying the mess you’ve become under him. He loves how you let go, how you lose your mind with every touch, whether it’s his fingers or his tongue in control.

“You’re a fuckin’ mess—all wrecked and humiliated, you know that? Yeah, you fuckin’ know it. And you love every second of it.”

His fingers thrust into you with a steady, deep rhythm, until pleasure overwhelms you and your vision goes blurry. You gasp, breath ragged, back arched against the seat, heart pounding. It’s too much. More than you thought you could take. More than anyone had ever made you feel.

You can’t understand how something so spontaneous —fifteen minutes in a car, half-drunk, on an empty road— could make you lose control like that. It’s beyond any previous experience, beyond anything you ever expected sex to be.

And it’s with Lando. Your best friend.

Even thinking about it feels unreal… but the heat between your thighs and the trembling in your body are far too real to ignore.

“Hey, you good?” It’s the first thing he asks.

But you can’t even speak clearly; your body is still trembling from the orgasm, from the shiver that ran through you and hasn’t completely faded. It felt fucking amazing… and at the same time, something inside you twists, because you both know exactly what just happened, even if you didn’t technically have sex. It was just foreplay, sure—but it felt like something more.

His fingers—the same ones that were buried deep inside you just minutes ago—still glisten with the wet trace of your pleasure. His mouth, the one that devoured you like he was addicted to your taste, is still marked with your desire. Your legs are shaking uncontrollably, like your body has completely surrendered, and you’re not sure you’ll be able to stand up anytime soon.

You’re satisfied. Not completely full… but deliciously sated. Though you know you’d need much more from him—more of his body, more of his strength—to feel truly complete.

You nod with a faint smile, and barely manage to whisper, “Yeah.”

Lando tries to put his clothes back in place with slow, almost distracted movements, because his eyes never stop watching you. His hands keep roaming over you, but no longer with the urgency from before. Now he caresses you calmly, with a softness that feels almost reverent. And in that touch, you recognize something familiar, something your body hasn’t forgotten. Because he has touched you like this before, and the way he does it still lingers on your skin like a living memory.

“I don’t want this to end,” you whisper, your voice barely audible as he lets his fingers gently sink into your sweat-damp hair. “I want you to keep touching me like you did today…”

He doesn’t answer with words, only nods with a slight smile, heavy with desire.

And you know he will. That he will touch you again with that same devotion every time you let him, until your body belongs to him by memory.

[spiddermen]

deltarune - world egg theory

anyone else think it's weird that we never see anything outside of hometown? there's no pictures of the outside world, the camera never pans out, and the sole road outside of town is blocked. the obvious reason for this is that we never need to leave the town, but i think there might be more to it than that. what if the reason we can't leave is because there's actually nothing outside of hometown?

so. we all know deltarune isn't real. as such, the world of deltarune isn't real - there's nothing to it outside of the parts we see. this is true for every game, of course, but i think in deltarune, it might be true in-universe as well. think about it - nobody can use the internet, we don't see anybody enter or leave the town, and we can't contact asriel. what if the reason for this is because there's literally nothing outside of hometown? if there's nothing there, there'd be no roads to follow, no internet to connect to, no phones to call. but why?

in the universe of deltarune, gaster is a stand-in for the game's devs. he's the one who revealed it on twitter, posts about it every time a new chapter comes out, and even calls it "my deltarune". it's likely that this world is literally his creation - a small, fictional world, an experiment that he's created. the entire world seems to be designed around his story, seeing as the religion the town follows is literally the story of deltarune; and in the church, one of the prophecy screens says "THE STORY OF THIS WORLD. <DELTARUNE.>", explicitly calling the entire world deltarune. if he made this world, why would he waste time and effort making pointless, extraneous content that nobody will ever see? why make anything outside of hometown at all?

i think this is how dess disappeared. normally, nobody inside the town perceives that anything's wrong. (if you've watched utena or the madoka movie, you'll know what i mean.) kris, dess, noelle, and asriel liked to go exploring in the forest around the graveyard and the bunker, but they shouldn't have been able to break out of bounds and escape hometown. that is... until they followed the pointed tail.

in a secret room in the second church world, you can find an organ philosopher that says a bunch of scrambled text. once unscrambled, it reads "lost where the forest would grow, the children followed the pointed tail." in another prophecy room and the game files, you can find this pointed tail, and see that it's made of circles - much like the cats in noelle's cat petterz game. this circular, pointed tail likely belongs to the FRIEND cat, an enigmatic entity that rarely appears in the game, yet seems to exist on the same layer as the title screen UI and the gonermaker. it's a creature that, by that virtue, would know that deltarune is just a game, and that the world of hometown is fake. it would be able to guide dess, kris, and noelle to the true end of the world, where dess would be able to get "lost where the forest would grow" - the place it would have grown, if the world was real.

but why? well, we know that gaster sees this world as his experiment, something he has control over. there might be something he's trying to find here, something he wants to discover. i think that thing he's researching is probably hope, and determination. by making a fake world with a emotional story and lovable characters, he'll make us all get attached to it. we'll defeat the enemies, progress the story, and hope for the character's well being. when he sees us trying to defeat the knight, he cheers us on, because he sees that hope shining in us, and knows that his theory might just be right. once we're invested enough, determined enough, hopeful enough, that's when his deltarune will be complete, and he'll achieve... well, i'm not really sure! i think it's a little too early to predict his real plan, but i think that our hope and determination are a big part of it. like he said in the chapter 2 release teaser, deltarune glows brightly from our hope.

what about asriel? isn't he at college? yeah, but... how do we know that's real? in the game files, that college and asriel both don't exist. i think that in-universe, he probably isn't being "rendered", in a manner of speaking. if he needs to show up in the story, files related to him will be added, and he'll be there just when he's needed. in the meantime, his personal story only exists in our minds, and that's good enough for the world of deltarune.

isn't that a really depressing ending? being told that everyone isn't real? maybe! i feel like there's a few different ways this could resolve, but i've got no clue what toby dreamed up that made him so determined to make this game. but i've got two opinions on possible outcomes, one for the normal route and one for the alt route.

on the normal route - i think the resolution will revolve around the idea that in your mind, fictional characters are just as real as you treat them. sure, they're not "real" so to speak, but we care about them! we're emotionally impacted by them, we cry and laugh and hope for their future. they might not be real, but their emotions and feelings are real through us, the players. the world of deltarune doesn't end just because the code stops running - it keeps existing in the mind of everyone who's played it. gerson says that the next pages are blank, ready to be filled in by the youth, and we just need to pick up the pen of hope and keep making it. susie's hoped-for eternity will live on in our hearts - as long as we don't forget.

on the alt route - the alt route is reached by completely disregarding the idea that these characters are real. we don't care about their feelings - sure, we do a little bit, but all we want is to find everything. in mantle, we become strong by destroying everything and everyone, and once we've reached our full power, we're able to destroy the trees. in the second area of mantle, you destroy some very hometown-colored trees, progress down a path for a little bit, and then find a door... that leads to an endless, empty black abyss. i think this is foreshadowing the alt route's eventual message - if you treat the characters as fake, disregard their emotions and what they want, and just treat the game as something to find content in, you'll be faced with the fact that it really is fake. you've stopped yourself from being immersed by allowing yourself to treat the characters as nothing more than sprites and dialogue, and in response, that's all the game becomes - a fake world with nothing on the other side.

[angelx]

Get Even - Chapter 4

word count: 2.2K

cw: frat prez!katsuki x fem art student!reader, mention of light consensual sexual exploration, loss of innocence (consensual), light power dynamics, angst, emotional manipulation, betrayal, deception revealed, verbal confrontation, emotional fallout, heartbreak, desperation, minor character being an accidental snitch

Three weeks. That’s how long it took.

He could’ve ended the game then—hand over the receipts, claim the win, drive off in his beloved Porsche with the smug satisfaction of victory. But Katsuki Bakugou wasn’t thinking about bets anymore. Not when you were sleeping in his bed, tangled in his sheets, soft skin flushed and vulnerable beneath his calloused hands.

You were always there now. In his room, curled into his side. At his place, stealing clothes you’d never return. Even in the quiet hours while he worked on his mechanical engineering assignments, you were there—sitting cross-legged on his bed, scribbling ideas for your next art project, occasionally sketching him in your sketchbook when your mind wandered elsewhere. The same guy who cornered you at a frat party last month, with a cocky smirk now pressed a kiss to your cheek when you said goodnight, traced circles on your knee while driving, held your hand like it was his lifeline.

And he was always around now.

Studio drop-offs. Post-class pastry runs. Sitting beside you as you finished a charcoal draft while he cranked out engineering formulas, muttering to himself and reaching blindly for the drink you'd gotten him.

It wasn’t official. No one said it out loud. But you were his, and Katsuki didn’t correct anyone who looked at you that way.

He should've walked away. After all, he’d already "won"—in less than a month, no less. But every time he looked at you—really looked—that old smugness cracked, and something softer bled through.

Something guilty. Something real. But you didn’t know that yet.

What you did know was that your body didn’t feel like a stranger’s anymore. Not with the way Katsuki touched you, taught you. Whispered encouragements when you were shy about asking for more. He’d started slow, guiding you through your own pleasure like you were something sacred. He taught you everything.

But the more he gave you, the more you wanted. Craved. Demanded.

It started with soft kisses that turned filthy. With your fingers buried in his hair, your thighs trembling. He would whisper in your ear, telling you how good you were doing, how much he needed you.

Then you changed. bolder. Hungrier. Katsuki taught you everything. Patiently. Obsessively. How to arch your back and press your hips against his to feel just right. How to use your hands, slow and deliberate. How to kiss like a promise and moan like a prayer. How to open your mouth for him—eager, breathless, desperate.

And now? You whispered back, filthier. You learned how to tease him. Torment him. You bit his lip when he teased, you whispered filthy things in his ear that made his cock twitch under his jeans. You’d ride him slow and steady just to watch his composure crack. You’d rake your nails down his chest, then soothe it with kisses, grinning when he gritted his teeth and growled your name. You started talking him through it like he used to do to you—telling him how good he felt, how hard he made you come, how you’d never get enough of him.

One night, you edged him. Pushed him to the brink with your mouth and your hands and your voice, and stopped—just before he could fall. You looked up at him with those wide eyes, lashes wet, lips swollen, your tongue tracing the corner of your mouth like the fucking menace you were becoming. And Katsuki just stared down at you, jaw slack, chest heaving, one hand tangled in your hair like he didn’t know whether to pull you in or push you away before he lost his mind.

He’d created a monster—a pretty little succubus that lived to ruin him. And he was so okay with it.

“Fuck,” he gasped one night, sweat slick between your bodies. “You’re a fuckin’ succubus, y’know that?”

You giggled, all sugar and mischief, brushing your fingers down his abs, and Katsuki was gone. Under your spell. Addicted.

He should’ve stopped. Should’ve told you the truth. But how could he? You smiled at him like he built you a second sun. And maybe… maybe he wanted to be loved like that. Even if it was built on a lie.

The days blurred sweetly after that night.

It wasn’t love—no one dared to say it out loud—but whatever it was, it bled into everything. The way he kissed you like he needed it. The way you leaned into him like he was home. You were always near now, a fixture in his space and mind—wearing his hoodies, curling up on his lap while he worked on a thermodynamics worksheet he half-understood, sneaking bites of his snacks like you had the right.

He still hadn’t told you the truth.

And sometimes, when you smiled too wide or kissed him just because, that guilt threatened to crack open in his chest. But he stuffed it down. Kept pretending. Because pretending felt good. It felt real.

Then came the night of yet another Sigma Vex party.

You didn’t even argue this time. When he offered to pick you up, you said yes. When he threw his varsity jacket over your shoulders before walking into the frat house, you smiled at him so sweetly that his teeth could rot. And when the music thrummed through the walls and neon lights painted your skin, you didn’t leave his side once.

It was like the rest of the world didn’t exist.

You sat curled in his lap on one of the leather couches, your legs draped across his like it was the most natural thing. He had one arm slung over your waist, thumb stroking absent-minded circles into your hip. Your head leaned against his shoulder, warm and light and so real it made his breath catch.

He didn’t care that his brothers watched. Didn’t give a damn about their smirks or side-eyes. You were his. Whether it was fake, temporary, or tangled in lies—right now, it felt true.

You brushed your lips against his jaw. “Need another drink?”

He gave a lazy hum. “Only if you’re gettin’ one too.”

“I’ll be right back,” you teased, slipping off his lap with a soft smile, the weight of you leaving his legs like losing warmth.

And then you were gone—just for a minute. It wasn’t a big deal. You’d come back, sit in his lap again, maybe he'd sneak you into the upstairs bedroom later. That’s what he thought.

But the universe had other plans.

You slipped into the kitchen, fingers curling around two red cups. The music was duller here, muffled behind thick walls. The party felt far away. You poured the drinks without thinking, still smiling to yourself.

Then a presence stumbled up beside you, reeking of cheap tequila and sweat.

“Heyyyy, you're kinda hooot” the guy slurred, squinting. “You’re from the art department, right?”

You turned slightly, confused but polite. “Yeah?”

He blinked. His eyes lit up like he’d just solved a math problem with crayons. “Wait. Wait, wait—you’re that girl. From the last party! Holy shit.”

You froze.

He grinned like this was the funniest thing in the world. “Prez actually did it. I can’t fuckin’ believe it.”

You frowned, your stomach dipping. “...Did what?”

“Oh, y’know—the bet. Back when you ran outta the first party like your ass was on fire? He was gonna lose that fancy-ass Porsche if he didn’t hit it by midterms. But he did! He won! Got in there fast, too—less than a month!”

Your hands shook. Your mouth went dry. The words didn’t compute at first. They sat there, echoing, buzzing around your brain like static. But they didn’t make sense.

“What… bet?” you asked, the words catching in your throat.

Before he could dig the hole any deeper, Kaminari appeared in the doorway like a lifeline. “Oi! Kimura. Shut. Up.”

But Kimura didn’t notice the sharp edge in his tone. “What? I’m just sayin’—it’s crazy, right? Prez really went all in. Said he’d make her beg for it—”

The drink slipped from your hand and crashed to the floor. The silence was immediate.

Kimura blinked. You stood there, the world around you slipping sideways. Kaminari’s jaw was tight, his eyes full of panic, like someone just pulled the fire alarm and everyone else kept dancing.

“Oh, shit-” Kimura muttered. “I fucked up.”

Your vision blurred.

There was a bet. There was a bet. You were the punchline. The game.

And suddenly, every sweet thing he ever did, every kiss, every look, every whispered promise—it all felt like poison sinking into your skin.

He played you. He chose to. And worst of all—you had no idea how much of it had ever been real.

You didn’t mean to storm out like that. But your legs are already moving, fueled by instinct. By betrayal. By the cold slap of reality that hit you like a freight train in that fucking kitchen. The hallway blurs. Laughter and music fade behind you. The buzz of the party becomes background noise to the pounding of your heart.

And then—You pass the living room. He’s still there.

Katsuki sits on that stupid black leather couch like he owns the room, like he owns the night. But when his gaze catches yours—when he sees the fire in your eyes, the betrayal carved into every line of your face—his whole world tilts.

His body tenses. He knows. No, you knew.

And you don’t even stop. You don’t scream. You don’t cry. You just walk past him like he’s nothing—like he never meant anything. And that? That hits harder than any slap could’ve. You slam open the front door.

“Wait—!” his voice tears through the air like thunder.

Then footsteps. Fast. Heavy. You don’t even get two steps into the driveway before he catches up. A warm hand wraps around your wrist, desperate, trembling with panic.

“Baby, wait—let me explain—please—”

You stop. And then you snap. You whirl around, eyes blazing like wildfire, and rip your arm from his grip. The motion is sharp. Violent. Final.

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

Your voice splits the night. He stares at you—shell-shocked. He’s never heard you yell like that. Never seen you this raw. This hurt. You’re trembling. Not from fear. From fury. From heartbreak. Your voice cracks but you don’t fall apart. You refuse to fall apart in front of him. Not him. Not now.

“You think you could play me?” you breathe, voice shaking as tears finally sting your eyes. “You think you could lie to my face, touch me however you want, make me feel things—only to laugh about it later with your frat brothers?”

He tries to speak—his mouth opens, closes again like he’s drowning. “No—no, that’s not—baby, I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off. “Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me that.”

"After everything... You did all of this for what? To get back at me for rejecting you once? What? Your shitty pride and reputation got the better of you?"

And then the tears start. Hot and slow, streaking your cheeks without permission. You’re not sobbing. You’re not even making a sound. You just look at him like he set fire to everything you’ve ever built.

Like you don’t recognize him anymore.

Like you wish you never met him.

“Was taking my virginity also part of your bet?” You asked him, but he couldn't give you an answer.

It was impossible for you to believe at this point. “Don’t fucking follow me,” you whisper. Your voice is hoarse now. Wrecked. “Just… don’t.”

You turn. You leave. And this time, he doesn’t stop you. He stays there on the pavement, frozen, winded like you just punched him straight in the chest. Because watching you walk away like that—seeing the light go out in your eyes when you looked at him—hurts more than anything else ever has.

Later that night…

Katsuki sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, phone clenched in his hand like it was the only thing anchoring him to this damn world. His thumb hovered over your contact—again.

Call Ended.Missed Call (30).

He tried again. Straight to voicemail.

“Fuck,” he whispered, dragging a hand through his hair, chest rising and falling with a panic that refused to quiet. He keeps on spamming your phone with messages you won't even see.

baby, pleaselet me explainplease answer my callsfuck, i'm sorry. i didn’t mean it like this please baby let me explain i didn’t mean for this to happenbaby, please answer the call

Delivered. Delivered. Delivered.

Your phone sat abandoned on your nightstand—screen facedown, volume turned off. You didn’t even glance at it.

You were curled up in bed, blanket pulled over your head like it could shield you from the ache in your chest. Your pillow was already wet with tears. Your fists were balled against your chest, throat raw from sobbing until your voice gave out.

You weren’t ignoring him. You were just too heartbroken to care.

And in that silence, Katsuki was left to sit alone in his room, fingers clenched around his phone, jaw tight, heart sinking lower with every minute you didn’t pick up.

You didn’t need to say a single word.

Your silence screamed louder than anything else ever could.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Part 5 is in the making! will be finished and posted as soon as possible!

Check the full series here: Get Even

check out my other works here!: MHA MASTERLIST

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[thetrasha]

He Smells Like...

feat. ZORO, BROOK, LAW, ACE, SHANKS, MIHAWK, CROCODILE

ZORO

…agarwood/jinko/oud, patchouli and black amber.

MOOD: masculine, traditional and earthy

Zoro smells like a forgotten temple that has been taken over by nature. A structure so imposing that the vines running along its architectural design seem insignificant in comparison, but every cut into the finely cut stone tells a story, every blemish reminds the visitor of years of pain. Nonetheless, the temple is still here, having overcome every invasion.

Just like Zoro, who piles other people’s burdens onto his own… just to protect them. He offers security, and only accepts sincere gratitude as payment, nothing else. He cannot change the world, but he would die trying if it came down to it – for his beliefs, his friends… and for you. You care for that abandoned temple of his like a priestess would, never once thinking of leaving it be. Really, you… are his saviour. You wouldn't let him succumb to the elements.

BROOK

…tea leaves, rain and cashmere.

MOOD: unisex, nostalgic and deep

Most people would say that they find the smell of rain comforting, but most people would also much prefer a sunny day. The scent is a circumstance of life – or the absence of it, depending on who you might ask. Standing next to Brook, thus, reminds you of… simpler times, times where happiness was so palpable and so real, more easily within your grasp, when the pressure of life didn’t get to you yet. It doesn’t surprise you at all that he naturally mirrors his soul’s gloom despite having such a joyous and accessibly kind personality.

Brook is beyond glad that you were at peace with his being. He doesn’t quite believe you when you tell him that he doesn’t smell like death at all, but he’d take the compliment with a hearty chuckle. He trusts your judgement more than he trusts his own. Besides, how can he turn you down when you look at him like he's all you've ever dreamt of?

LAW

…books, common sage and lavender.

MOOD: unisex, herbaceous and comforting

Tranquil and calm with a sharp minty tang that vaguely reminds you of medicinal properties, that’s how you’d describe it. It’s so soothing that it might even make some people deliriously sleepy – but again, deeply refreshing. It’s also a bit of an ancient smell, fitting for his old soul that’s been through so much. For someone so disturbed by himself, you think it’s delightful what a calming effect he has on others. Always the voice of reason, always ready to utter a wise word…

So you nurture him when he’s had enough for the day, the week, the entire year. When the noise gets to be too much for him, you enter the room with a fresh cup of tea or coffee – just how he likes it – and talk to him about happier things, things that take his mind off of his demons. Now you’ll never miss that steady presence in your life, just like how he will never miss yours, for you have each other now.

ACE

…common jasmine, honeydew melon and smoke.

MOOD: feminine, light and delicate with musky undertones

A scent that reminiscent of heady spring nights that end up around a barely glimmering bonfire. A marking of new beginnings and scorched earth alike – Ace smells cheerful, innocent and floral with a hint of depth to it, like a secret that’s never been lifted, a cry nobody ever bore witness to… Well, until you came along. You always thought the smoke was the strongest note within that concoction and not just because he ate the Flame Flame Fruit, no, because… still waters, ironically, are very deep. At first, you didn’t detect that smoky musk at all, yet once he’s let you in, the smoke overpowered the lighter, more cheerful parts. He was an enigma worth exploring, worthy of being seen and being offered a shoulder to lean on. He’d never thought that crying in your arms would appease the flames within him, but… well, he didn’t think he’d ever love someone this truthfully either.

Every spring follows a dark winter.

SHANKS

…rum, cedarwood and raspberry.

MOOD: masculine, balsamic and playful

It’s a surprisingly grounding scent. He smells like an adventure and feels very warm and approachable because of it. How funny that Shanks – Shanks! – smells approachable when he’s prone to burying his problems and keeping his heart under lock and key. He’s so… so silly, so fun, so him, but he’s also quite the introspective thinker who craves harmony and everlasting peace. Very well aware of his legacy and the laid-back nature he projects to ease other people’s worries, he tries not to think about the missing arm, the loss of strength that came with it, the phantom pain, the… problems; he tries to forget that he’s almost lost an eye, and that it all amounted to nothing. The world is still rotten, evil still runs rampant… it makes him chuckle wistfully. You’re always there to catch him when the mood turns sombre, holding him close and telling this living legend that he’s done well, that you’re proud of him and that his sacrifices changed the world.

If he’s balsam for the soul, you’re his much needed anchor.

MIHAWK

…black lily, sandalwood and wine.

MOOD: feminine, mysterious and elegant

Very much a complex, sophisticated scent. Nothing ever seems like it is on its surface level, and you have to dig deep to perceive the base note, because Mihawk doesn’t let people in on his... life most of the time. He’s fleeting and evasive, rarely ever blossoming. He keeps people at an arm’s length, deeming most people a liability, or shooing them away because they'd just annoy him… but somehow, you stuck with him.

You’ve seen the good, the bad and the ugly, but let him keep his air of secrecy, never pried once. Your own independence kept you busy. He... appreciates it. Like a good red wine, his trust needs time to age properly. Once he’s decided to keep you, though, there’s no going back. The slow burn has erupted into an open fire and his loyalty is indeed forever. He’s your sword and shield, and you are his heart.

CROCODILE

…tobacco, leather and burnt amber.

MOOD: masculine, domineering and warm

Crocodile smells like he could take over any room, that deep aroma keeps dominating the senses. The spiciness of the tobacco has permanently seeped into his luxurious clothes, and every cigar lit between his fingers just adds to the sensation. It’s a rich scent that is truly inevitable, just like he is. His frame is imposing, his intimidating appearance undeniable and yet, and yet… there’s this warmth in there, something leathery, something raw. You often interpret it as anger – anger at the world, at himself, at friends and foes alike… it’s easy to stoke the flames, but you’ve come to realise that Crocodile has never once been unreasonable in his anger.

His dismissiveness would be almost impressive if it weren’t for his other side; possessive, domineering… irrational. For a man of his calibre, he sure seems to have a problem with you trying to sever your ties to him by finding a job with a better work and life balance... He claims that he cannot find anyone who could do your job, but you knew that that’s a horrible lie.

Neither of you acknowledge what's happening out of pride.

[crusty-chronicles]

Sick and Tired (Of You)

Synopsis: In which our reader falls ill at the worst possible time. Unfortunately for Law, it's up to him to take care of you. Or alternatively: Trauma dumping with The Surgeon of Death. Can be read separately from Part 1, but it adds context.

--------------------------------------------------------------

You stare in utter disbelief at the sight in front of you. Your eye twitches just a little because what the hell??? Luffy, on the other hand, is thrilled. He’s pointing excitedly while saying it's ‘so cool’ and ‘it’s the best thing he's ever seen.’ He's of course talking about Bartolomeo’s ship. A ship that had him as its figurehead and scattered mementos of the crew on deck.

It's almost scary how much effort was put into it. If Bartolomeo hadn't proven himself to be a trustworthy ally, you would've assumed he was five seconds away from kidnapping your brother. You still wouldn't have put it past him. 

You think you and Franky could have built something half decent to sail on instead. But you have no time and honestly, you don't have the materials for that either. Even if you did, the cyborg was more than impressed by the craftsmanship to be convinced otherwise.

You're snapped out of your thoughts when Luffy starts pulling on your arm.

“C'mon! Let's go explore!”

You give in despite the fatigue coursing through your veins. Somehow you find yourselves in some kind of shrine room. (As if the obsession couldn't get any weirder.) Every single one of the crew’s wanted posters were on display. To your surprise, so was the first one you'd gotten after Fishman Island.

Your scythe is poised to attack. The top half of your face is shrouded in darkness from the cloak you'd worn. A red glint reflects off your pupils. You figured Garp must've had a heart attack when he saw it. Officially, all his grandkids had grown up to spite the world government.

A shame considering he'd had the highest hopes for you.

Just as you were about to leave the room, someone came in with new posters. All your bounties had been upgraded. You took yours from the stack.

The Reaper Y/n

300 Million Berries. 

You'd almost say you were proud. Except for the fact your face was clearly visible this time. Bloodied and strained, but yours all the same. You glance towards your bounty once more. 300 million felt a little overkill for the small part you played in Dressrosa. 

“Why's mine so high?” You ask aloud, failing to notice the presence peeking over your shoulder.

“You were up there with us fighting Doflamingo. I'm surprised it's not higher.” Law answers.

You supposed he had a point. Though you didn't appreciate your bounty skyrocketing the second your face was revealed. It only gave people an incentive to recognize you. 

You were about to respond but stopped noticing his attention was elsewhere. Law was staring out longingly towards Dressrosa. As if he was leaving something behind. Perhaps he was. The burden of what had been weighing him down. 

“You doing okay?” You asked.

He tenses. You're far too observant for your own good. He wants to tell you to leave it alone. Leave him alone. But things are different now. He knows you're not trying to pry into what happened. You just wanted to know how he was doing mentally. 

Not great if he was being honest. The true battle had only just begun. But he doesn't want to get into it right now. 

“It's personal,” he settles on.

You give a small hum, not pushing any further. 

“I see. Did you accomplish what you wanted in Dressrosa?”

You're careful with your words. Choosing them in a way that opens the door if he wants to talk. He’s not sure he trusts you that much yet. But he's getting there. 

He'd succeeded in carrying out his plan, sure. The factory was destroyed, the production of SMILE had ceased, and Doflamingo was defeated. He'd gotten his revenge, but what came next was still unclear. 

“Yeah. Did you get closure?” He asked in reference to you and Sabo.

The revolutionary left in good spirits while you and Luffy were sleeping. Tearing off a piece of his vivre card before mussing up your hair. Law assumed you two were on better terms now. 

“Yeah. We're good. It's nice to know I still have someone to depend on,” you admit.

You always talk about your brothers with such fondness. So when the opportunity presents itself to take Strawhat down a peg, he goes for it. 

“Strawhat’s not dependable?” 

You feign a glare before giving his shoulder a light shove. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He likes this. Ragging on someone who'd been the bane of his existence for months. It was short-lived, however, as you answer the question honestly.

“He's my little brother. I’d never ask him for favors like that. It's kinda like passing a baton. I carry Luffy’s baggage and Sabo carries mine.”

For whatever reason, it intrigues him. The dynamic you'd set up all those years ago was similar yet different to his own.

“Who carries his?” 

“Don't know. Perks of not being the oldest anymore.” You shrug off.

He looks at you with a baffled expression. He never pegged you as the type to be crass. Your grin quickly lets him know you're joking.

“But we're there for him if he needs us,” you reiterate.

“It's just some weird kind of obligation, you know? Not to let the younger ones deal with the oldest’s problems.”

“I get that.” He said quietly.

Because he'd had a little sister too. Law remembers trying to do what was best for her. To reassure her that everything was going to be okay. Even when he knew it wasn't.

Talking to you was validating somewhat. He wishes he could've done more for his family. Warn them somehow. But he knows there's just some things out of people's control. Flevance, Cora, things he couldn't have done anything about. It's easier to see when someone like you is constantly reminding him.

Someone who knows it's okay to falter as long as you can get back up. 

—---------------------------------

You do your best to get comfortable in the women's quarters. The only other ones here were Robin and Baby 5. It's no different than rooming on the Sunny. But you can't sleep. Your head is pounding, and you can feel yourself more exhausted than ever. 

Perhaps the new setting has you feeling uneasy. A part of you knows that isn't the case. You'd slept just fine at the Revolutionaries’ hideout. Something else has you restless. You remember your first nights on the Sunny being similar. 

When you joined Luffy's crew, you weren't too fond of sleeping in a room with strangers. Nami and Robin were as welcoming as they could be, but you weren't comfortable sharing a space with them yet. So you sought out Luffy. The first week or two you’d slept together like when you were kids. 

Was it the most comfortable? 

Hell no. The hammock screamed in protests at the weight of two people. And more often than not, Luffy ended up smothering you. 

But you'd grown up with all the snoring and drooling. You'd grown up fighting over blankets and pillows. The little kicks and shoves for space. It was familiar.

It was home.

You debate heading into the men's quarters for that reason. Luffy wouldn't mind, but you didn't want to scare anyone in the morning. Your comfort or the rest of the crewmates’? You knew you'd regret it in the morning, nevertheless you decide to get some fresh air instead. 

The ship’s a lot more quiet without Bartolomeo and his crew fanboying over Luffy. It does wonders to soothe the throbbing of your head. Your eyes trail up towards the stars. You should've brought your scythe out to fiddle with. Tonight would have been a good night to work on something until your hands were sore and purple. 

You never could sit still for long.

You return your attention back to the deck. There's someone by the railing. The hat on their head clues you in on who it is. It's almost funny how often you find yourself in this situation. You figured he must've been tired of your presence. Yet he's never outwardly expressed genuine disdain for it.

“Couldn't sleep either?” You ask once you're close enough.

“How can I? Have you seen this ship?” Law grumbles out.

You laugh at his bitterness. It couldn't have been easy seeing reminders of Luffy everywhere. Unable to escape him after putting up with the Strawhats for months. Although he does have a point.

“And I thought I was Luffy's biggest fan,” you agreed.

It was a little unnerving to be one upped by some pirate. A whole goddamn ship dedicated to him? The most you did was have his wanted poster up in your room. Though you supposed your affection was on the saner side of things.

“So did I.” Law comments.

Blunt as ever. But you can see a flicker of amusement in his eyes. 

“Hey! I don't talk about him that much.” You defended.

“You were actively praising him during his fight with Fujitora.”

So maybe you did coo a little when Luffy started announcing his hits before he attacked. Wanting the fairest fight he could get from the vice admiral. That didn't mean you couldn't shut up about him. 

“Because he's a good person. Am I not allowed to be proud of my own brother?”

“Not around me you're not.”

Your eyes narrow in mock animosity. You didn't think you were that annoying about Luffy. Not more annoying than Ace had been. Though you know not to take anything too personally with Law. You're starting to get better at reading his true emotions. You supposed growing up with an emotionally constipated Ace had helped.

“You act tough, but I know he's growing on you.” You point out.

Law scoffs, but he doesn't deny it. At least not out loud. Fond of the idiot who constantly ruined his plans? Absolutely not. Luffy was trustworthy is all. Nothing more.

“You shouldn't lean too close to the railing. I can swim, but not in stormy waters,” you warn. 

“I won't fall in.” Nevertheless, Law steps back closer to where you are.

You noticed he did that a lot. Pretending to be disinterested and distant to those around him, when really he was paying attention and taking everything in. He's the type that doesn't like asking for help. Even when he obviously needs it. Guarded to a fault. 

“You can't sleep?” He asks.

“I've been trying for the past few hours. Guess my thoughts are too active. Why do you ask?”

“Well, if you're gonna be making something with the Cyborg tomorrow, I'd rather it not blow up because you weren't focused.”

“Aww, you care?” You teased.

He looked away from you, muttering out curses as he tried to hide the heat creeping up his neck. 

“You're such a pain.”

The smile on your face is playful. It only makes his face burn brighter. Your head feels a little better now. Although you could still feel something was off with you. Your eyes catch sight of the couch in the center of the deck.

It's tempting. 

Given the week you've had, it doesn't take much convincing for you to approach it.

“You wanna sit and talk?” You offer.

“I don't have a choice. You're gonna nag me either way.”

There he goes again. Acting like you were holding him hostage when he was already following behind you. It'd be frustrating if it weren't so familiar to you.

“Careful. I might think you mean that and go bother someone else. I'm sure Barto will love my attention.” 

For the first time in a while, Law gave a genuine scowl. Adjusting the hat on his head with a soured expression. 

“You wouldn't last five seconds with that idiot.”

You wondered what sparked his change in mood. You knew Bartolomeo could be a lot, but he wasn't that bad. Surely the mere mention of his name wouldn't have set Law off. There was something else you said that made him uncomfortable. 

“Got me there. He's a nice guy, but I couldn't handle someone kissing my ass every time I spoke. I like a little disagreement every now and then,” you said before plopping down on the couch.

The cushions are comfortable against your back. You think it might be enough to lull you to sleep. But the presence next to you encourages you to stay awake. He’s still keeping a sizable distance away from you. Despite it, Law's usually stiff posture is lax. 

You take a second to observe him. The circles under his eyes rival yours. From what you gathered, he tended to overwork himself. It couldn't have been easy to be both the doctor and captain of your own ship. (Luffy barely acted like the captain of his own ship)

You catch sight of his hat next. Spotted and plush. Although time had made it less fuzzy and more matted. Almost like the texture of an old stuffed animal. It's aged. 

“Your hat looks well loved,” you blurt out before you can stop it.

He raises a brow at you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing bad. Just means you've been holding onto it for a while. Is it a reminder?” You ask. 

You used to be so jealous of Sabo and Luffy's hats. Then Ace became a little traitor and got himself one too. They all had something special from home. Something that meant an awful lot to them. Luffy's strawhat was significantly more worn down than Law’s. No thanks to him getting it stabbed over and over. You remember forcing yourself to learn how to weave just to keep it together.

You wonder if that spotted hat went through similar treatment. Stitching up any holes made. Hand washing it to prevent further wear and tear. Taking great care to preserve it throughout the years. 

Reflexively, Law reaches up towards his hat. Gripping the top in thought. His mind is flooded by bitter memories. A time he cannot return to no matter how much he wanted to. He thinks you're too observant for your own good.

But you know when to leave things alone.

It's…easier talking to you. He doesn't have to elaborate on one worded answers. And you talk. A lot. He probably knows more about you than your entire crew. You're so open that it's disarming. 

He wanted to dislike you just like the rest of the Strawhats. Find you annoying and overwhelming. But he couldn't. He hates how he notices the little things about you. How your smile is so bright. How like all the rest of your friends you have some quirk. Eyes spacing apart when you're getting scolded. And maybe he does find it a little funny when you do that to make Luffy behave. 

“I've got my eye on you.”

He hates that you're so goddamn nice without meaning to. How hard you tried to make him comfortable on the Sunny. Making sure the cook made food he could actually eat. Borrowing some of Robin’s books so he wouldn't be bored. Making fun of Caesar just to get him to smirk. 

Then there was Dressrosa.

You fought so hard for him and he doesn't understand why. When he was trying to terminate the alliance after he'd gotten caught, you'd snapped at him. Swiping the key to his cuffs from Luffy's shaking hands.

“Oh shut up! You don't get to quit now when our whole crew is doing whatever they can to help! So suck it up or I swear I'll rip those piercings right out of your ears!”

Looking back on it now, he was grateful. 

He doesn't know why, but just this once he'd return your openness. (To get you off his back if nothing else.)

“It’s the last thing I have from my hometown. There's been some alterations over the years, but nothing major.” He explains.

You give a hum of acknowledgement.

A comfortable silence settles between you before you disrupt it.

“Where did you grow up?”

It's a dreaded question that has him tensing. Repeating what happened is reliving it. The despair. The helplessness. The all consuming fire that left nothing behind. And still Law debates telling you. 

You're more patient than he gives you credit for. Through all the snide remarks, you stayed. You waited and took the time to get to know him through this short-lived alliance. 

It’s what ultimately gets him to tell you.

“North Blue. Our town was called Flevance.”

What were the chances you heard of it? Pretty damn high judging by the brief look of recognition on your face. It wasn't for the reasons he might think. You weren't somebody interested in history. You sure as hell weren't old enough to know what was going on during that time either. No, it was much simpler than that. 

You remember looking for possible materials for your scythe when you were younger. In your search, you stumbled upon the town of Flevance. It was known for being an ethereal shade of white and produced a special mineral called Amber Lead. A mineral so gorgeous and versatile, it became the town's main export.

You thought the metal would have made for a beautiful blade. But when you tried to acquire some, you learned about what happened to the town.

Of course the world government was involved somehow. 

You know Law doesn't want your pity, so you won't give it. That doesn't mean you can't be bitter about your own situation.

“The navy sucks ass. Why fix things when you can just get rid of them?” You say sarcastically.

Get rid of people like they were nothing. Enslave them, burn them, starve them. It didn't matter in the end. Lives were trash when they didn't serve a purpose in the World Government's eyes.

Law shares in your sentiment somewhat. But then he remembers people like Corazon exist. People who try to do the right thing. It wasn't so much the people who were corrupt, but the system they served under.

“Not all of them are bad.” He disagreed, more relaxed now that he knew you wouldn't push for answers. You never did.

“No, not all of them.” You conceded.

Garp had saved you. He was supposed to turn a blind eye and return you where you belonged. Instead he took you in. He gave you a home. A second chance. You'd never forget everything he did for you.

You can feel your eyes start to droop. It looks like sleep might find you after all. You shift a little closer to Law. Knees lightly touching. He doesn't move away. 

You notice he'd brought his sword out with him. You reach for it, thoughts too sluggish to catch up to your actions. You grab the hilt, and besides a baffled expression, he doesn't make a move to stop you. 

You trace the blade with your finger once it's been unsheathed. Pushing down slightly to test its sharpness. He lets you. You're a weapons master. A damn good one if that scythe of yours was anything to go by. So he trusts you with Kikoku. You were more than qualified to observe it.

Your eyes scan analytically for any imperfections. Something that might potentially hinder its attack potential. He's seen you do similar to Zoro's swords. Making sure the blades weren't dull before testing out their weight. 

With Kikoku, you shift your attention down to the leather wrapped around the hilt. Your thumb soothes over the worn down material. You frown in disapproval.

“You're gonna need to re-wrap this. If it continues to flake off in pieces it won't have any grip left.”

Your hands were always busy, he noticed. If you weren't bothering him, you were with the cyborg making something. Fixing up the sniper’s slingshot, adjusting cannons for the ship, even testing out new additions for your own weapon. Rarely were your hands idle.

He thinks you could rival Vegapunk if you tried hard enough.

He'd never seen anything like your scythe before. A detachable blade that magnetized and repelled itself from the hilt. The hilt itself parted halfway down, allowing the top to shoot forward on a sea prism stone chain. 

A shame your talents were wasted on Strawhat's crew.

You continue to fiddle with Kikoku. Your touch is careful yet firm. You know exactly what you're doing. He moves closer to you. The silence is comfortable, but it begins to make him think. 

He wouldn't be here if it wasn't for Luffy. For the entire Strawhat crew. You all were about to enter a war with an Emperor, and still Luffy didn't ask for anything in return. 

You're both infuriating.

He doesn't want to feel like he owes you anything…so he breaks the silence.

“You wanted to know why I chose Doflamingo right?” 

It was something you asked when he first came on board the Sunny. He doesn't want to second guess his decision, so he forces himself to continue speaking. Not waiting to see your reaction.

“He killed someone very important to me. I wanted to avenge him.”

He won't go into specifics. He wasn't ready for that. But you deserved to know why he dragged your little brother down with him. 

“I won't lie, I was using Strawhat at first. He was supposed to be a diversion so I could carry out my mission.”

Being honest wouldn’t do him any favors. He can feel the way you tense up. Your hands rigid on his sword. 

“But I wasn't strong enough by myself. It's only thanks to his intervention that we won,” Law admits.

Then more quietly he adds-

“I am grateful for his help…Yours too.”

The look in your eyes is soft. Encouraging. It has his face burning. He realizes you're closer than before. He can feel the warmth radiate from your skin. Shoulders almost touching so you can tease and prod at him. 

“I'm glad. Alliances should be built on trust. There's nobody more true to his world than Luffy. You really lucked out.”

It was clear to anyone with eyes you loved Luffy more than anything. A fact that does annoy him from time to time,

“There you go praising him again.”

You further invade his personal space with a tired grin.

“Jealous? Fine then, I'll give you your props too. I think you're a good guy. You say a lot of things you don't mean, but you're dependable.” It's genuine, but because you're you, you take the opportunity to mess with him.

“You only let me get shot once.”

Law’s quick to defend himself with a scowl.

“I wasn't expecting you to throw yourself on top of me!”

“Because you had a plan?” You say teasingly.

“I did and you being a selfless idiot wasn't a part of it.”

You do your best to stifle your laughter.

“The hell are you smiling for?”

“Was selfless supposed to be an insult?”

He doesn't like the way you're making him feel right now. It's foreign. Like his heart is hammering away in his chest. Your smirk is evil. And it makes his face burn. 

“Shut up!”

You're so close that you're practically leaning on him. A tired smile on your face. It's as if you don't understand the definition of personal space. Then you go to rest your head on his shoulder. 

He should push you off. He'd only end up in another compromising position with you. Probably get laughed at in the morning by everybody else. He should've Shambled you back to your cabin. 

But your eyes have already closed and your breathing had slowed. You're curled up into his side, and he wonders when you got so close in the first place. Why he let you get that close. 

His expression softens slightly, though the red on his face doesn't disappear.

“Get some rest Y/n-ya.”

It slips out without him noticing. The tell that shows he's fond of someone. He'd never admit it aloud, but you'd been just lucid enough to hear it. As long as one of you got some sleep, he supposed things could've been worse.

But you can't stay out like this. His pride would never allow it. So he picks you up in his arms. A familiar sight. When you don't stir, he begins the dreaded walk of shame towards your cabin. (Carrying you to bed in a room where people could see him.) He's praying the other two women are asleep.

He should know by now that things never go the way he plans. 

As he pushes the door open, both women shoot up and stare at him. This is the second time you put him in this position. (The second time he allowed himself to walk right into it.) 

Robin has a knowing look on her face. A flicker of amusement in her eyes.

“Oh? So that's where she went.”

Law wants the ground to swallow him whole. He really should've used Shambles.

“Awww, she needs you!” Baby 5 coos.

“Shut up!”

The heat on his face spreads to his ears and neck. He stiffens when you adjust yourself in his arms. Both women giggle at the sight. He forces himself to commit to what he started. Rushing as quick as he can to get out of there. It's less than coordinated when he half drops you, half places you onto the bed.

He swears this is the last time he'll let you fall asleep on him. 

But then it happens again. And again. Every night on Bartolomeo’s accursed ship until the last of the other crews have departed. You sit, you talk, and it's nice. He'd go as far as to say he enjoyed your company. 

He gets sloppy one night. Falling asleep right alongside you. He woke up warm and disoriented to a familiar ‘shishishishi!’ He did in fact Shamble the both of you away when he was cognizant enough. He was just glad Luffy was more focused on making fun of you rather than him. 

It wasn't long before the ship reached Zou. The fatigue you'd been feeling amplified ten-fold along the way. The pounding of your head becoming unbearable.  Your chest started to feel tight, too. You tell yourself it's fine. You can hold off until Chopper checks it out. Though realistically you should've asked the doctor right next to you.

You reunite with the rest of the crew, minus Sanji. A plan is made to get him back from Whole Cake Island, one you could barely keep up with. Everything's getting hazy again. You would've asked Chopper for help like you planned, but he was too busy taking care of the minks. You didn't want to add anything else on to his plate. Especially when he was in charge of taking care of the two rulers. 

So you force your discomfort down. Even when the Minks throw a feast in the Strawhats’ honor, you don't indulge. The loud cheers and whoops reverberate through your skull. Your smile very much forced. You figured you looked okay enough if nobody had questioned your strained expression. (If you were being honest with yourself, they were probably all drunk off their asses.)

You do get a small burst of energy upon seeing CatViper, your love for fluffy animals temporarily overriding your fatigue.

“COME HERE SWEET BOI!!!”

You practically tackle down the cat mink. Squishing his cheeks and ruffling his fur to your heart's content. 

“Aren't you just a big sweetie?” You cooed.

And much to everyone's surprise, he starts purring. You pepper kisses across his face, unabashedly nuzzling your cheek against his.

“Yes you are! You're just a little sweetheart. Mwuah!”

“Y/n! That's one of the rulers! Let him go!” Nami scolded.

“Hmm? Oh my bad.” You begrudgingly release him, offering up a small 'sorry.'

“It's fine. You're just filled with energy, aren't you-gara?” CatViper waves off.

“Runs in the family.” You gesture to behind you where Luffy's stuffing his face with whatever he can get his hands on.

The next day is torturous. You struggle to just get on your feet. Following sluggishly behind towards the Road ponyglyph. Apparently, there were four in total, and it just so happened Big Mom’s territory had one.

You'd be able to kill two birds with one stone.

Or at least, that was the plan. But as you prepared to depart for the rescue mission, it hits you full force. Everything comes crashing down and your legs can't hold you anymore. Your head feels like it's underwater. Searing to the touch. You can't make out what anyone is saying as your body hits the floor.

You were sure people were crowding around you. A faint call of your name before you lose consciousness. 

Law would deny the concern he felt seeing you collapse on the ground. How Strawhat reacted immediately and rushed to your side. Picking you up on his lap and trying to get a response from you. Your breathing was labored. Skin flushed and sweaty with fever. 

And maybe he did notice how something was off with you last night. How you didn't seem to be drinking as much as you had after Dressrosa. How your smiles seemed a little more forced. How you'd been lagging behind all morning.

You were sick at the worst possible time. 

He could tell Luffy knew that as well. Brow furrowed in thought about what to do. Chopper would be able to treat you just fine on the ship. But that wasn't the issue. Your sickly state made you an easy target. The rescue team needed to be completely focused in Big Mom's territory. Bringing you would be a risk they could not afford to take. 

The next qualified person to look after you was Law.  But before he could suggest it, Luffy's bowing down his head.

“Please. Could you take care of Y/n for me? You're a doctor right? You'll be able to make her better.”

He wasn't asking as a concerned captain. And this went further than what the terms of their alliance dictated. He was asking as your brother for Law’s help. 

Law would have done it anyway. But something about the respect Strawhat showed made him want to prove himself. His unwavering trust.

“She'll be fine with me. Just focus on rescuing Blackleg.” He assured.

It’d been a few days since then. And while Law didn't appreciate being treated as an escort by the Samurai and half of Strawhat's crew, he'd deal with it. The sooner they made it to Wano, the better. At least the more sane members had stayed behind. 

You shifted slightly on your bed. In order to minimize the spread of your illness, you'd been quarantined from the others. Key word: others. While it would have been wise to set you up in the med bay, he needed to monitor your condition closely. See if your state improved or if he needed to make stronger medicine. Thus, you ended up in his quarters. 

You were still out cold. All of your medication being administered in the form of a vaccine. It was easier than having to worry about you choking on a serum. If one of your crewmates wanted to see you, he made them wear a mask before entering. (Funnily enough, the swordsman was the one who visited you the most.)

Law stepped out for a moment to check in with his crew. It was just his luck that was when you finally woke up. You struggled to focus your vision. You were in an unfamiliar room. It was too clean to be on the Sunny. Too organized. Slowly, you forced yourself up for a better look.

There was a desk in the corner, messy papers scattered on top of it. You could faintly see vials of something as well. Flush against the wall was a small bookshelf. Although it looked like it mostly held comics. 

Next to the bed was a nightstand. There was a fresh glass of water and today's news. Maybe there was something about Luffy in there. You didn't know how long you'd been out for. Anything could've happened.

So you reached for the newspaper, eyes scanning for anything on him. Your curious expression dropped into one of terror. 

No.

This couldn't be happening.

You refused to believe it.

You pushed yourself as hard as you could to stand. Barely taking two steps before your legs gave out once more. You cursed your sickly state. With no other choice, you forced yourself to crawl towards the door.

“Luffy….I gotta…He needs to know.” You weakly called out. 

Your entire body felt like it was made of lead. It screamed out in protests against the strain you were putting it through. Heart hammering away in a frantic fear. 

You tried calling out again, but the person you were looking for was different.

“Law….I need you.”

Your voice was too quiet for anyone to hear. Yet still you persisted. Your vision going in and out. You'd barely reached the door before it swung open. A familiar pair of shoes entered your spotty sight.

Law gaped down at you in surprise. Sputtering over himself before lecturing you.

“You idiot! Why the hell did you try to get up!?!”

You feel a spark of relief. He was here. But then that feeling of dread consumes you once more. Your breathing turns erratic. Trying to wheeze out a response.

Law picks you up carefully. Placing you down on your bed before going to check your vitals. You clutch his arm tightly, effectively stopping his movements. Your grip is weak. Feeble. He could easily shrug you off. Instead he stays by your side to hear what you say.

“I have to…tell…Luffy.” You manage to get out.

“Tell him what?”

In your other hand is the crumpled up newspaper. He takes it from you and reads the headline.

Revolutionary Headquarters Found And Destroyed.

Oh. He looks back to your hyperventilating state. He double checks the paper again to make sure he didn’t miss anything. When he doesn’t find what he’s looking for, his body relaxes slightly.

“You’re worried about your brother, right? He’s okay. There weren’t any casualties listed.”

It does little to soothe you. You fight him to sit up.

“I have to-”

“You need to rest or you won’t get better.” He cuts off. Using one hand to shove you back down. Still, you struggle.

He thinks of what could possibly calm you down. An idea shrikes him, though it's not a very good one. He leaves the room for brief moment. Returning with a transponder snail in hand.

“Here. I don’t know if he’s reached Big Mom’s territory yet, but you can try to give him a call.”

You take the snail from him with shaky hands. 

He doesn't know why he's trying so hard to soothe your nerves. He was sure he'd never gone out of his way like this before. He thinks should have knocked you out with anesthesia instead. 

You wait with baited breath as the transponder snail rings. Luffy's voice quickly fills the room.

“Hey Traffy!!!!!” He greets. 

“Not Trafalgar,” you correct.

“Y/n? You're awake!?!”

“Mhm.”

You'd become less frantic talking to Luffy. His voice calming you down in an instant. (Maybe Law did feel a little bitter at the fact.)

“Did…Did you see the paper this morning?” You struggled to get out.

“Yeah. Is that why you're calling?”

The lack of worry in his tone soothed the rapid beating of your heart. You were able to have some clarity through your muddled mind. Perhaps you'd been overreacting. You just didn't want to believe you'd lost Sabo after getting him back. 

“I got scared,” you admit.

There's a beat of silence as Luffy processes your words. Then the snail jumps to life once more. 

“You know Sabo. He's fine. He better be fine. Besides, his name wasn't even listed. You think the World Government would've passed up on an opportunity like that?”

You sink back down onto the bed beneath you. A relieved sigh escaping your lips. Since when was Luffy the one comforting you?

“No. It'd probably be their cover page.”

You can hear him let out a laugh. The sound relaxing you completely.

“See? Nothing to worry about. You just focus on getting better.” 

“I will. Please take care of yourself.”

“Don't worry about me. Love you!”

The transponder snail’s *Cluh-ick* rang out. 

A warm grin spread out across your face. Your eyes once again weighed down by fatigue. You know it's far too late for him to hear you. Nevertheless, you repeat those three words back.

“Love you too.”

You offer up the snail back to Law before you adjust yourself back into the mattress. You offer up a quiet ‘Thanks,’ burying yourself under the blankets. You fall into an easy sleep.

Law observes you with a small frown. You're stubborn. Sick with who knows what, yet you force yourself to crawl towards your brother. Even if you know you won't get far. It would've been easier to say he didn't know where you were coming from. To deny sympathizing with you somewhat. 

But he can't.

You and Strawhat are attached by the hip. It must've been difficult to send him off into enemy territory by himself. Up until a few weeks ago, he'd been your entire life. ‘He’s all I have left,’ you'd said. Despite that not being true anymore, you'd still be on edge until he came back safely. 

Law remembered the first time he saw you. It'd been for Luffy’s benefit then, too. It was a few minutes after he'd had a total meltdown and went on a rampage. A ship was approaching the island.

Red Hair’s ship.

Law was immediately on edge alongside the lingering Kuja pirates. The ship stopped just outside of their reach. Then a small boat departed and Red Hair's ship began to retreat. The figure drew closer and closer until they could make out details.

Your hood was draped around your shoulders. You wore a determined expression, undeterred by a potential scuffle. 

“A woman?” One of the Kuja commented. 

“Should we still shoot?” Another asked.

“Let's let her pass.”

You were either familiar with their customs or warned about them. Allowing them to see you were a woman was a smart choice. They were less likely to stop you. And you didn't appear to be a marine either.

You made land, walking with measured steps. Your hands raised to show you mean no harm. The Kuja still have their spears raised in apprehension. You open your mouth to speak, but it snaps shut at a shrill wail. 

Luffy's still on his rampage. Kicking, punching, screaming. All things that would reopen his wounds and lead to his death. The color drains from your face, a horrified expression overtaking it.

You waste no time running as fast as you can towards him. 

“LUFFY!”

Law assumed you were one of his crew mates. Perhaps a new one. But something about your cry felt more primal. More emotional. 

The forest went quiet. 

No further tantrum from Strawhat.

Law wouldn't see you again for another two years. Until Punk Hazard. You were by Luffy's side, watching curiously at the chaos around you. There was a protective air around you. Holding a hand out to stop Luffy from moving forward.

But there's immediate recognition when Strawhat sees him. Walking over and greeting him like they were friends. (Which Law is quick to correct.) You looked back and forth between the two. Your expression shifting from cautious to relieved. Then it was grateful. 

It wasn't long before Luffy took off with Zoro and Robin in tow. But you lagged behind. A warm smile spread across your face. Bright and welcoming. Before Law could process what was happening, you bowed your head down.

“Thank you for taking care of my br- my captain.” you corrected yourself.

You stood straight up, meeting his eyes this time.

“I'm forever grateful for your help.”

And that was it. You turned around to follow after Luffy once more. You'd stunned him. He was a pirate. He didn't help Strawhat out of the goodness of his heart.

So why did you look at him like he did? 

Like he'd just saved your entire world.

In hindsight, he kinda did. You tried to keep you and Luffy's familial ties a secret in the beginning. It was a good call after what happened to Fire-Fist. But you let it slip anyways.

Having the knowledge now that you'd been crying out in anguish to your brother, it puts into perspective your impulsive behavior. So just this once…Law decides to excuse your recklessness. 

He makes a move to leave, and as if sensing it, your peaceful expression sours. You're not too far asleep to disregard his presence. Yet you're too sick to see through the clouded haze. Completely unaware of the words slurring from your mouth.

“Ace, please don't leave me.”

It makes him freeze. Maybe there was something about his presence that reminded you of Ace. Or you'd just wanted your brother when you were at your lowest. Perhaps he was the one who took care of you when you were sick. It made sense. If the other one was out of the picture and Luffy was busy being Luffy, that only left one other person. 

He wants to correct you. 

He should correct you.

But you're not all there. His words would just fall on deaf ears. And in spite of himself, Law's pulling up a chair to sit next to your bed. He doesn't think he's ever spoken so softly towards someone. 

“I'm not going anywhere. Just get your rest.”

The way a dopey smile spread across your face has his heart beating. He's heard you talk about Ace before. And every time it was like you were singing his praises. Like everything he'd ever touched turned to gold. 

You tried to keep everything down, but there were cracks in your facade. The way you clung onto Luffy, your screaming match with the Revolutionary, and the way you subconsciously yearned for Ace’s presence. You still missed your brother. Still mourned for him. No matter how much time passed.

And Law understood. 

Some nights….he missed Corazon’s comfort.

—---------------------------------------

You got somewhat better a few days later. However, you entered what Sabo and Ace had called your ‘loopy’ state. Where you acted like a distressed toddler and refused to cooperate on anything. Whining and complaining just because you could. 

Like now, rejecting any and all food you knew wasn't Sanji’s.  

“C’mon! You need to eat!”

“No! I don't want it! Sanji makes his food with love.”

And poor Law was the one who had to put up with it. Getting increasingly irritated the more difficult you made his job. For what felt like the hundredth time, he lifted a spoonful of soup towards your mouth.

“I don't care what he makes his food with! Eat or else!”

The soup was green in appearance. It was filled with things that would get your immune system back on track. Unfortunately, that didn't make it the most appetizing meal. The smell certainly didn't help either.

Unable to handle confrontation in this state, you forced your eyes in different directions to avoid Law’s gaze.

“Stop yelling at me!!!”

He sputtered in complete disbelief, almost dropping the bowl he was holding. You were acting like a pissy toddler, and he was not a fan.

“You look at me with both eyes when I'm talking to you!” Law angrily scolded. 

You ignore him, stubbornly keeping your eyes in different directions. And as soon as he tries to move into your line of sight, you switch them around. It continues to go on for a few minutes, neither of you aware the door had been left open.

“Well, what do we have here?” A voice called out.

Zoro stood in the doorway with a smirk. You stopped your struggle with Law to focus your eyes on him. You flashed him a pleading look.

“Your crewmate is acting like a child. And mask, Swordsman.” Law instructs. 

Zoro lets out a scoff, grumbling about his ‘strong immune system.’ Nevertheless, he makes sure his face is covered before pressing forward.

“Am not! You want me to put GREEN soup in my body! It looks like some witch's brew!” You argued.

“Because it has herbs that are supposed to make you better!”

It was an unspoken rule that when Luffy was gone, it was Zoro's responsibility as first mate to step up. In turn, that meant looking after you (Which was discussed between them when you first joined). Your health and safety were entrusted to him, along with the rest of the crew’s. You wanted to be stubborn? Fine. Have it your way. 

He pushed himself between you and Law, grabbing the bowl with scary enthusiasm. 

“Don't worry, I got this. Captain wants you to get better, so you're gonna get better!”

There's no time for you to react before he's prying your mouth open with one hand and tipping the bowl back into your throat with the other. The result? Your sputter, practically drowning from the sudden intake of liquid. You give feeble pushes against his chest.

“Quit struggling! You're being a big baby!” He chastises while forcing the soup down your throat.

It's instinctive really. How Law lifts his hand up and quickly Shambles you into his arms. He's carrying you in one arm like you're some frightened dog.

“Stop badgering my patient!”

Zoro points an accusing finger at him.

“You're too soft. You gotta force her or she won't go for it.”

Before Law can argue, yet another one of your crewmates enters. Your eyes light up upon seeing Robin. Scrambling out of Law's grip and hiding behind her with surprising agility. 

“ROBIN!!!!!!! THEY'RE BEING SO MEAN TO ME!!!!” You tattle like a child.

“Is that so?” She coos.

You nod your head frantically.

“Law's trying to make me eat poison and Zoro’s trying to drown me!”

“We can't have that now can we.” There's a gentle smile on her face as she gives your head a pat.

And for a moment you think you're saved. Until Robin is using her powers to hold you down and pry your mouth open.

“Now Zoro!” 

Law thinks he must be going crazy. You're flailing your arms wildly, doing your best to form words. Then there's Zoro, an almost evil glint in his eye as he approaches you with the bowl once more. 

The commotion catches the attention of both crews and the samurai. Usopp and Franky are near the front, preparing to step in if the other two needed it. Law's own crew looks on in fascination at your stubborn display. Having never seen someone on board refuse treatment.

“Quit spitting it out!!! Swallow all of it or else!”

You give a feeble reach towards the sky before giving up. Falling completely limp while Zoro continues to pour the soup until it's all gone. 

“You sure you didn't kill her? She looks kinda lifeless.” Usopp commented.

A twitch of your finger has him screaming.

It's times like this that really show you and Luffy are cut from the same cloth.

All this damn trouble…And Law still needs to administer your vaccine. As soon as you see the needle, you manage to wrangle your way out of Robin's grip and make a dash for the door. Your antics are wearing him thin. (If he didn't like you so much, he would've cut off your legs to keep you still.)

“Shambles!”

You plop right back into the room. You scramble to get up again, but Zoro tackles you down. Followed by Franky and Usopp. Robin uses her devil fruit to add on to the weight.

“NOOOO! NO! I REFUSE!” 

All four of them are on top of you, and still you have some leeway. Moving inch by inch. The only way to get you complacent is to distract you. So, the cyborg takes it upon himself to try first. 

“Look it's a ninja!” He releases an arm to point at Raizo.

You stop your movements, glancing towards the ninja. A blank look overtakes your face. Head tilting to the side.

“He's so lame.”

“EXCUSE YOU!!!!” Franky exclaims in disbelief.

“HOW DARE YOU!!! NINJAS ARE WAY COOL!” Usopp backs up.

“His head isn't proportional to his body.” You sniffle.

Raizo’s head snaps up at that, glaring at you from your place on the floor.

“WHY YOU!!!!!”

And just when they thought you might stop struggling, you start up again. You managed to get another inch. 

“Look at the cool robot!” Zoro prompts, gesturing for Franky to do something.

“Yeah, look at the robot.” Robin directs your head to the left.

Being put in the spot, Franky clicks his nose. His hair changes from one style to the next. You watch in silence, face progressively getting more distraught. 

“That’s not a cool robot. That's Franky.”

He collapsed onto the ground in despair.

“I'm...not cool?”

Noticing one less person on top of you, you take the opportunity to free yourself. Starting up a sprint back out the door. Law had to think fast on his feet. His eyes met Bepo’s and he remembered your love for animals. He didn't want to throw one of his crewmates under the bus, but he had no choice.

“Look, it's Bepo!” He points out.

All at once you stopped. Turning around eerily slow. In an instant, you were on the mink. Arms wrapping around his neck while you pressed your cheek against his.

“MY SWEET ANGEL!!!!!”

“CAPTAIN!” He shrieks.

You're thoroughly distracted now. Scrunching up the fur on Bepo’s face and squishing his cheeks with a coo. He looks hopefully at Law as he approaches. The hope soon dies when he sees Law take one of your arms. Dabbing a spot with alcohol before positioning the needle.

You don't even react as it goes in. Giving your full attention to the polar bear mink. Your crew high fives each other in the background. You’re all insane, he decides. When the last of the medication has exited the syringe, he lets you go. 

You're still snuggling with poor Bepo, who looks like he's a second away from passing out. Law Shambles you into his arm again, and you're surprisingly docile.

“Good…Now everyone out!”

The next day is less chaotic, but you still refuse to eat. Your head turning away as soon as the spoon meets your lips. 

“Don't start,” Law warns.

“You can't just shovel scalding soup into my mouth. It burns, Trafalgar.” You defend.

He rolled his eyes.

“You’re infuriating,” he mumbled.

Against his better judgement, he scoops up a spoonful and blows on it. Just when he thinks you can't humiliate him further, you manage to lower the bar. It's a good thing the door to his cabin is locked.

“Happy now?”

You take a sip and pull away with a scowl on your face.

“It tastes like shit.”

“You better eat it or I'll get Zoro!”

“NOOOO! I'M SORRY! I'LL BE GOOD I PROMISE!”

He continued to feed you until it was all gone. He doesn't like the way it makes him feel. The domesticity of it. He was just fulfilling his duties as your doctor was all. Strawhat trusted him to make you better, so you were gonna get better. There was nothing else to it. You were his patient, and he needed to see it through.

—-----------------------------------------------

A day or two goes by and you start to feel more like yourself. Your loopy phase gone for the time being. Your body still feels like lead, but it's manageable. Your nose is thankfully less stuffy. Though the pounding of your head doesn't cease.

You're snapped from your thoughts by a quiet snoring. Law’s knocked out on his desk. Body slumped forward at an awkward angle with a pen still in his hand. You realize you must've been staying in his room all this time.

You couldn't help but feel bad for taking up his bed. He already didn't have the best sleep schedule. Putting up with you sure as hell wasn't doing any favors. You wish you could make things easier for him, but you're the furthest thing from a doctor.

You push yourself up from the bed, not taking a second to think about what you're doing. You make your way towards the front of the room, stopping right next to the desk. You use what little strength you have to lift up Law. 

He doesn't stir as you half carry, half drag him over to the bed. He must've worked himself out cold. You put him down, taking the hat off his head and placing it on the nightstand. At the very least, you could make sure he got one decent night of sleep.

You sit on the floor next to him, taking a breather from the strain you put yourself through. You catch sight of the shelf you noticed on your first day. If you were gonna be up, might as well entertain yourself. 

—-------------------------------

Law awoke in a surprisingly comfortable position. The ache in his back wasn't as prominent as before. He could have sworn he passed out on his desk, but the surface he was resting on wasn't the familiar wood. This was his bed.

He shoots up despite his body's protests. Scanning the room for you and fearing the worst (that you'd snuck away to avoid treatment again). He lets out a small sigh of relief seeing you next to the bed. 

You're crouched over reading. It's not just any book though. It's a Sora comic. Law feels his heart drop. He practically fights the covers to get to you. Falling face first onto the floor. His face burns as he tries to snatch the comic from you. 

“Sora the Sea Warrior, huh?” You comment while holding it out of his reach.

He makes another grab towards you, fingers skimming the pages before you pull it back.

“You can't just go through my stuff because you're sick.” He scolds.

You pay it no mind though, continuing to read where you left off. 

“I think it's pretty interesting. We didn't really grow up with comics in Foosha Village. We were more of the outdoorsy kind of kids. And Luffy and Ace hated using their brains.”

Law places a hand on his temple in exasperation. Not only had you touched his stuff (which he wouldn't have minded under different circumstances), you'd forced yourself out of bed again. He can see the circles under your eyes. Who knows how long you'd been up.

“You shouldn't be out of bed yet.” He relents, giving up on retrieving the comic from you.

“C'mon, I'm getting to a really good part. It's giving me ideas for new weapons. I mean, the tech is pretty advanced for something that came out years ago. You expect me not to attempt gravity boots?”

“I expect you to do what you're told. Get back to bed.”

You wave him off.

“It's fine. You need it more than me. Besides, I gotta know what happens next. I'm rooting for Germa by the way.”

“Bed. Now.” He ordered.

You look up with a pout.

“Then we have to share. I don't want you developing scoliosis in that chair.”

He flashes you an unimpressed look.

“I'm being serious. I'm not gonna let you sleep in a chair.”

He disregards your concern, lifting you up and placing you down on the bed. He takes his beloved comic, putting it right next to his hat. You make grabby gestures at him when he straightens up. He's immediately reminded of a spoiled brat. 

“Cuddle me? You know high body temperature helps fight sickness.” You teased, although there's some sincerity in your tone. 

“You're delusional.”

Law's too tired to argue with you. What are the chances he gives in and things go wrong? (High given your track record). You've already fallen asleep on him dozens of times by now. This wasn’t any different, right?

“Will you behave if I sleep on the bed?” He questions.

“Define ‘behave’.”

“Y/n-ya!”

“Fine! I won't get up anymore.”

You offer up your pinkie to seal the promise. He swats your hand down and goes to the opposite side of the bed. He lays down, giving into the drowsiness coursing through his body.

“Keep to your side. My immune system is strong, but if you cough directly into my lungs I might catch your disease.” He warns.

You let out a laugh that borders on a cough.

“Sure Germa boy.”

Against all odds, and what must be the universe's impression of a joke, Law woke up with your face against his chest. Arms wrapped tightly around you as his heart steadily picked up pace. 

—-------------------------------------------

You're finally well enough to be out of Law’s supervision. It was perfect timing too. Any day now you’d reach Wano. In the meantime, you put all your attention into perfecting your weapons.

“Palpitations!”

Pressurized air shot out from your glove. The force of the blast spearing through the ocean’s surface. Waves rose up on each side before crashing back down. You pulled at your scalp and let out a cry of frustration.

“Ugh!!! Not far enough!”

Some of Law’s crew had gathered to watch you. You were the first one up on deck when the sub surfaced. Their interest was effectively piqued seeing you progressively get more and more disheveled after each attempt. Your latest one doing the most damage, but seemingly making you the most agitated. 

“What do you mean not far enough!?! You practically parted the ocean!” Penguin argued. 

“And I'm saying it's still not good enough. It's supposed to reach that boulder.”

You pointed out in the distance to a huge mountain-like rock. You continued to mutter out curses about how the blast wasn't even close.

“Not just reach, but completely obliterate it and then some. Instead I get a puny blast of air that feels more like a gentle breeze. It sucks.”

You threw off your gloves in frustration, mussing up your hair to calm yourself. Another Heart Pirate, Shachi, looked over your shoulder at your discarded gloves. 

“You can't bottle up that much pressure in such a confined space.” He tried to explain, but you were a stubborn one. 

“Wanna bet?” You asked, a cruel grin spreading across your face. 

None the wiser to your plotting, he took you up on it. Figuring you didn't stand a chance. 

“I bet your freaky scythe.”

The grin on your face widened. Hook line and sinker.

“I bet your hat.”

The two of you shook on it. Having an incentive now, you got right back to work. You bothered Franky for any tools he might have. Shachi was feeling confident until Usopp approached him.

“You're done for.” The sniper informed.

“Says who?”

“Because Franky bet Y/n once she couldn't walk on water.”

Okay? Surely you weren't able to manage that, right? 

“What she'd do?”

“Made boots with a sea prism stone heel that repealed water. She added a little blaster for extra propulsion. Franky lost his favorite shirt that day.” Usopp said, putting a hand over his heart for dramatic effect.

This did not bode well for him.

“So there's a chance?”

“A good one, yes.”

It took you six hours. You came back on deck with bulkier gloves. Two circular mechanisms on each palm. There was a triumphant glint in your eye as you approached the railing. The boulder you were aiming for was barely visible now, but you weren't phased by it. If anything, you seemed more confident. 

“Palpitations!”

The sub rocked slightly from the force of the blast. The sea parted a sizable distance, gigantic waves spiking towards the sky. The boulder you'd been aiming for was demolished. Debris and ocean spray raining down.

“WOOHOO! LET'S GOOOOO!” You cheered, taking a lap around the deck.

You returned to your spot and held out your hand expectantly.

“Pay up!”

Begrudgingly, Shachi handed over his hat. More impressed than upset at the situation. You put it on your head and continued with your day, much to Penguin and Bepo’s delight. They took every opportunity to tease their friend.

You returned the orca hat about an hour later.

“Here you go.”

Shachi stared at you in utter bewilderment.

“What?!? That's it!?!”

“Yeah? I'm not evil. I just wanted to teach you a lesson.” You said nonchalantly.

“Wrong! You are evil. Unspeakably so.” He clutched his hat close to his chest with a glare.

You wondered how someone as high strung as Law ended up with crewmates the exact opposite of him. Playful and not always the brightest. But they supported each other no matter what.

—-------------------------------

You end up bunking with Robin and the only other woman on board: Ikkaku. You felt more comfortable than when you'd been on Bartolomeo's ship. The setting wasn't as chaotic. 

Save for the teasing they were both putting you through.

It started off as a playful question from Ikkaku. ‘How was it being captain’s favorite for three weeks?’ To which you adamantly denied. It would've been left at that had Robin not spoken up.

“I’m sure it wasn't much different from being on Bartolomeo's ship. They talked and fell asleep together every night.” 

Your jaw dropped in horror while the woman next to you let out a laugh.

“No way!”

“ROBIN!” You shrieked.

“And he always carried her into the cabin. It was so sweet how he tucked her in bed.” She elaborated.

You tried and failed to suffocate yourself with a pillow. Wanting to get out of this conversation any way you could. Ikkaku nudged your shoulder lightly.

“I thought it was strange how he quarantined her in his cabin. But knowing they spent so much time together, it makes sense. He probably got used to her company at night.”

You wanted the earth to swallow you whole.

“You don't have to sleep here if you don't want to. I'm sure Traffy’s waiting for you.” Robin added.

“Thank god Nami’s not here.” You said while burying your face in your hands.

Your torment didn't last long, thankfully. It had gotten late. Your companions for the night falling into a peaceful slumber. A quiet settled over the sub. You strained your ears for footsteps, voices, anything that would've meant another person was up.

There was nothing.

You get up slowly from your bed. You slip out of the cabin quietly and make your way towards the kitchen. You’d almost forgotten what today was. Being in and out of consciousness had warped your sense of time. 

You find what you're looking for in one of the top cabinets. A bottle of sake and two cups. You hold the bottle firmly in your hand, searching for a secluded place. You didn't want to bother anyone should they wake up. 

Tonight was special, after all.

You ended up in the library. It was decently away from the men and women’s quarters. You wouldn't disturb anyone from here. It was way bigger than the one on the Sunny. Filled with medical textbooks, you're sure. The Polar Tang was organized and neat. Whereas the Sunny was cluttered and chaotic. A representation of the two captains. 

You sat down and poured out two cups of sake. One you took in your hand. The other you left untouched. You took a deep breath before speaking.

“Happy birthday Ace. Here's to a short but merry life.”

You clinked your cup against the other one.

“Luffy's doing okay. I'm sure he probably told you already, but I thought I should too.”

You figured Luffy was up to the same thing as you right now. He'd kept up with this tradition even after you all separated, much to your surprise. He wasn't a fan of drinking, but this was always the exception.

“We met Sabo again…I, uh, I got really mad at him. The same way I got mad at you,” you admitted. 

You'd managed to calm Luffy down enough for him to rest. He'd put too much strain on his body. You couldn't blame him though. You were doing the same thing.

“LIAR!” You punched down onto the forest floor as hard as you could.

“YOU LIAR! YOU LIED! YOU LIED! YOU LIED!” You began pounding into the ground, knuckles becoming bloody. 

“HOW COULD YOU JUST LEAVE US! YOU SAID YOU'D NEVER DIE!” Your wail echoed throughout the clearing. Desperate, hurt, and betrayed.

You willed the painful memory to disappear, forcing yourself to talk through it. 

“But he's here now, and I'm so grateful for it. You don't have to worry about us anymore.”

You and Luffy weren't alone anymore. 

“I miss you everyday. I wish I could say I'm doing fine too, but I'm not. Not yet at least.”

Luffy held onto you like a lifeline, sobbing hysterically into your chest. It was all he could do besides hurting himself. He wanted you to shield him from the awful truth. That he'd lost both his crew and brother in less than a week. 

“We're gonna be okay, Luffy.” you said, hugging him tighter.

He shook against you.

“How do you know?”

“I'll make things okay. Don't worry baby brother, I've got you.” 

You'd be strong enough for the both of you.

“Not until this Wano business is over and I know nothing can stop Luffy.” You assured.

“I'll be able to smile then and say ‘Screw a normal life, my brother's gonna be King of the Pirates.’ Like we always knew he could do.”

You lifted up your cup of sake.

“But for now, here's to you. The man who lived with no regrets.”

You downed it, feeling a familiar burn slide down your throat. You failed to notice the approaching footsteps. It was almost funny how often you found each other. 

“Sake? This late? You just got better, you shouldn't be drinking,” Law chastised.

You wondered if he ever slept. Then again, you stayed up just as often. 

“I wasn't drinking. I was just… it's a tradition we do. Me and Luffy,” you explained. 

He gave you an expectant look, prompting you to elaborate.

“After the three of us thought Sabo was gone, I suggested we still celebrate his birthday. We'd exchange cups of sake like when we first became siblings.”

Dadan was always pissed when a bottle of her sake went missing. But she never stopped you guys. If you didn't know better, you would've thought she left the bottles within your reach on purpose. 

“Then Ace set sail, so me and Luffy celebrated his birthday too. We figured we might not all be together anymore, but that didn't mean we had to let distance keep us apart.”

It didn't mean you had to stop loving each other.

“I kept up with the tradition after Luffy left too. I didn't know he still did it until we were stuck on Amazon Lilly.”

Law looked between you and the full cup on the floor, connecting the dots as you spoke.

“Today is Ace’s birthday,” you said softly. 

As your doctor, he wanted to tell you not to drink. That you needed a few more days for the virus to completely leave your system. But on a human level, he couldn't ask that of you. You were in an incredibly vulnerable state. This tradition meant a lot to you. It was personal. He could, however, make sure you didn't overdo it. 

“I’ll give you your privacy. Just limit yourself, okay?”

A playful smirk broke out across your face. 

“I'm not mourning a death. I'm celebrating his life.”

And to his surprise, you patted the spot next to you.

“C’mon, sit down with me.” You encouraged.

It seemed all his nights since joining Strawhat consisted of your presence. Mostly due to your insistence. And like a fool he let you get close everytime. He’d become used to you. To your openness. 

“You won't leave me alone if I don't.” He gave in. 

He was acting like you'd go chasing him down if he said no. Though the lack of hesitance responding to you said otherwise. He sat down next to you as if he belonged there. So sure and relaxed in his actions.

“Like you aren't looking for an excuse to take a break,” you teased.

Law didn't deny it, watching as you refilled your cup of sake. He couldn't help but freeze. He'd never done this before. There were no remains from Flevance to grieve, and he had to get a grip on his emotions the night Corazon died. Was there supposed to be a moment of silence? Or was he expected to say something? 

“You know, Ace spat on Luffy when they first met.” You said unprompted.

“Huh???” Law let out a noise of complete and utter confusion.

You laughed at the bewildered expression on his face before continuing on. 

“He was such a little stinker. Tried to plan his death with Sabo too.”

You never failed to catch him off guard. He supposed you and Luffy were alike in that regard. Saying what was on your mind without a second thought. It always worked in your favor though. 

“Fire-Fist? The one you talk about like he's some saint?” Law questioned skeptically.

“I never said he was a saint. I said he was a good big brother. But he had to grow into that role. He was such a standoffish kid.” You explained.

You remember him being guarded when you first met. Luffy had won him over already, but you -you were still new. He never went as far as spitting on you (he wouldn't dare knowing that Garp had an especially soft spot for you), but he tried his hardest to shoo you away. 

When you fixed up the trap door to their treasure, he'd made some comment about how they didn't need your help. You didn't pay it any mind at the time. You hadn't fixed the door because you wanted to help. You fixed it because you were bored. 

But then Luffy began to follow you around. And neither Sabo nor Ace could stop him from seeking you out. It was inevitable you'd be integrated into their circle. Sabo had been the one to warm up quicker. Asking you to fix up old pistols and jewelry to trade in. All the while Ace made snide remarks about how you'd be better off in the kitchen with Dadan. 

He knocked it off when he realized how hard you were working yourself. Hands swollen and bordering on purple. Yet you never complained. Working well into the night and bringing back a sizeable amount of money the next day. He never apologized, but he stopped treating you like a burden. 

You never let him live it down. Not even death would save him from the second hand embarrassment of his past actions. 

“Hear me! I'm still not over you saying a woman's job was to cook and clean! Beat that attitude out of you, didn't I?” You said while shaking a fist up to the sky. 

“It's not like he can hear you.” It slipped out before Law could stop it. 

He stiffened, worrying he said the wrong thing for a second. But then you tilted your head back with a mischievous smirk. 

“No, but I hope I disturb his peace wherever he is.”

You offer him the cup of sake in your hand, beckoning him to join in on whatever this was. He takes a second to process it. What were you doing to him? Making him second guess himself on the smallest of things. Making him yearn.

He accepts the cup from you. You reach out and grab the other one on the floor. He sends you a questioning look. You meet it head on with a blank expression. 

“Dead men tell no tales. They also can't drink.”

It almost makes him laugh, whereas you giggle openly. Once again, you somehow end up closer. You clink your cup against his and down a second shot. The atmosphere is surprisingly light. A much needed breather for what was to come. But then you go and say something that has his heart dropping. 

“Is there someone you want to celebrate tonight? I'm sure Ace wouldn't mind sharing the spotlight.”

His hand tightens around the cup. You always did this. Tried your best to make him comfortable in your presence. And now you were trying to make him feel welcomed on his own ship. Your presence warm and encouraging.

The words fell so casually from your lips. As if he hadn't intruded on something precious to you. You were mourning, despite what you said. And being as observant as you were, you wanted to give him the opportunity to mourn with you. To talk about what had weighed him down since childhood. 

“You don't have to say anything. Just remembering is enough.” You add.

You don't have to talk, but if you need a moment, take it. 

He closes his eyes in thought. You observe him from the corner of your eye. His posture is stiff. Like he's holding back. Wanting to say something but stopping himself. Then he downs the cup of sake in one go. 

You don't know what baggage he's carrying, but you know trying to keep it down just makes it worse. Being vulnerable was scary…But facing everything alone was worse.  

It was why your tradition meant so much to you. You didn't have to suffer alone just because Ace was gone. As long as you remembered, you'd forever carry a part of him with you. You'd carried that same sentiment when you thought you lost Sabo, too. 

Live a life of freedom.

Live with no regrets. 

Maybe Law doesn't want to relive those memories. But if it helped, you'd share yours. The most vulnerable part of you for the most vulnerable part of him.

“If I show you something, you promise you won't tell anybody?” You ask.

He raises a brow at the question. 

“Not even Strawhat-ya?”

There it goes again, that small term of endearment. The silent hope that doofus would make it back from Whole Cake Island. You don't comment on it.

“Not even Luffy,” you affirm.

Something not even Strawhat was supposed to know about. What in the world could you possibly be hiding from him? What made you decide to tell Law instead? Why did your trust suddenly mean so much to him?

“I promise.”

With that confirmation, you turn so your back is facing him. You reach down and pull your shirt over your head. On your left shoulder were three heart tattoos clumped together. One broken down the middle. There's faint scarring between the spaces of the ink.

“For the longest time, I didn't know how to cover it up…The mark of the celestial dragon.” You said softly. Not angrily or bitterly, but accepting of what happened.

It feels like the air was sucked from his lungs. 

“I got the idea from Ace when he came back to visit. I remember telling him he was starting to look like a thug with all his tattoos.” You continued, this time with fondness. 

—------------------------------------

You hadn't seen Ace for over a year. Suffice to say you were not happy with him. You'd seen the papers. ‘Portgas D. Ace: 2nd Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates.’ And you'd seen the new tattoos he’d gotten. Specifically the ASCE one. So you jumped on his back when he made port. Doing your best to get him into a headlock.

He nearly toppled over from surprise before trying to pry your arm off his neck.

“You're gonna kill me,” he choked out.

You only tightened your grip, unfazed when he used his devil fruit to slip away. He reappeared as a mass of flames next to you. It did nothing to deter you from scolding him.

“You set out to sea for two years, and you come back looking like a degenerate.”

“Whitebeard's mark is a right of passage.” He defended. 

You grabbed his arm and pointed at the inked lettering.

“You misspelled your own name, you idiot.”

“I had a good reason.”

“Being drunk isn't a good reason.” you chastised.

He pulled his arm from you with a glare. 

“The letters stand for something,” he explained.

“A is obviously for me. S was for Sabo. C is for Luffy, because he's always been a little crybaby. And E is for Whitebeard because he's given me so much.”

It’s surprisingly sweet. You thought about calling him a sap to tease him, but you realized there was no marking for you. No reminder representing your importance in his life. You'd be lying if you said it didn't bother you. Though not enough to believe you mattered any less. Still, you make it a point to hold the fact over his head. 

“So what I'm hearing is you don't love me?”

Ace lets out an offended noise, trailing close behind you as you start walking away. 

“That’s not true! Everything you've ever given me I show off with pride. Those are my reminders of you. Striker? My knife? I take them everywhere I go. They're as much a part of me as my tattoos.”

You stop, turning around with an unimpressed expression.

“Not enough. You've gotta tattoo my name across your forehead.”

“You wish!”

“Big bold letters!” You shout behind you as you continue to walk away.

“You think I don't love you? Really? Well how's this for love!?!”

You let out a shriek as you feel his arms wrap around you. He picks you up to swing and you began kicking your legs. 

“NOOOO! LET GO OF ME!!! YOU'RE ALL SWEATY AND GROSS!”

All you get is an evil laugh in return, squirming feebly in his grasp. 

“Only if you take it back.”

You pause in your movements. For a moment he thinks you'll relent. But you've always been petty. So you start up your struggling once more.

“NEVER!!!”

Eventually you both settle down, opting to catch up on all of Ace’s adventures while you ate. Meeting Shanks, challenging Whitebeard, Wano. All of it had you on the edge of your seat. You couldn't have been happier for the life he'd made for himself. 

“You’ve gotta grab me a slab of sea prism stone when you go back to Wano.” You pleaded.

“You're asking a devil fruit user to bring you sea prism stone?” Ace questioned.

“And? Are you saying you can't power through it? Didn't know Fire-Fist Ace was so weak.”

You put extra emphasis on his new title. He pinched your cheek in retaliation, returning the favor.

“Very funny Reaper.”

The title you used in the black market to sell your weapons. You could feel the atmosphere shift after he said it. Becoming more somber. 

“You know this isn't exactly the life I wanted for you.” Ace nudged your shoulder playfully, though his words were sincere.

“Is that so?” You didn't know how to properly respond to his confession. 

“You already know how I feel about you selling weapons on the black market. I can't control your choices. But that's not what I wanna talk about.”

You started your business because it was the safer alternative. You could remain anonymous, avoiding direct contact with pirates and marines alike. After everything you went through, you wanted quiet. You didn't want the branding on your back to ruin your life further.

“I know you're smart. I know you're always careful. I trust you. But you know a peaceful life doesn't mean an isolated one.”

Ace understood why you wanted to remain in the shadows, but that didn't mean you had to go through life alone. You deserved more than that. 

“I want you to surround yourself with people you trust. To have good friends. I want you to go out and love your life. Not stay cooped up in your workshop.”

“Ace?” You called out. 

“You don't have to join Whitebeard's crew. Just promise me you'll let yourself be happy.”

He gave you an encouraging smile, reaching over to muss up your hair. Your heart swells at the action. His words make the weight on your shoulders a little more bearable. You don't know what you'd do without his support. Who you'd be if he hadn't stepped up for you and Luffy. 

You catch sight of Whitebeard's mark on his back. It stands out against his skin. Big and prominent. It gives you an idea.

“Could I ask you a favor?”

“Always.” He responded without hesitation.

“I want….I want to cover up the branding. Have something else scar over.”

Use Ace’s powers to scorch a new mark on your skin. He's not too keen on the idea. He had good control over his devil fruit, but there was always a chance something went wrong. He'd never be able to forgive himself if something happened to you.

“I don't wanna hurt you.”

“I'll finally be free. I won't have to hide anymore.” You reason. 

“What if I mess up?”

“If it destroys the government’s claim on me, I'll love it no matter what. Your mistake will be my greatest treasure.” 

He should've been the one assuring you. But like always, you make things better for everyone else. You take what's broken and fix it. 

“Yeah? No regrets?” He double checks. 

You shook your head.

“Alright then. Let's set you free.”

It's funny in a way, how all the tension vanished from you at once. You turned around and lifted up your shirt. He's immediately reminded of the first time you showed him. The way his stomach twisted upon seeing it. His reaction is no different now. Your voice snaps him from his thoughts.

“I'm trusting you with the design. You better make sure your handwriting isn't ugly or I'll kick your ass.” You tried to lighten the mood.

It works, if only for a moment.

“Keep being mean to me and I'll draw a dick on your back.”

“You'd die, and I'd make it painful.”

Flowers would've been a safe bet, but he wanted the mark to be special. For it to mean something to you when you looked at it. A skull was his second guess, but he wanted you to be sure before he did anything. 

“At least give me an idea of what you want.” He prompted.

“I want something that reminds me of the three of you. Kinda like the one you have on your arm,” you suggest. 

He took a second to think about it. All the while he's glaring at the branding on your shoulder. It makes him sick to think about what you'd gone through. What those bastards did not only to civilians, but to children. You weren't somebody's property to be disposed of on a whim. 

You were a person. Living, breathing, and feeling. Despite everything, you never lost your spirit. You never let them take your good heart. You pushed forward and proved them wrong by thriving. 

He's able to settle on the design. 

“It's gonna hurt really bad for a second, but it'll be worth it.” He warned.

“You've got something in mind?”

“Yeah. I think you'll like it.”

He raises the temperature on his pointer. It's hot enough that it's glowing red, but not searing enough to spark a flame. He presses it down against your shoulder lightly. The bulk of the branding he covers up first. You both grow nauseous at the sizzling of your flesh.

One mark for Luffy.

Ace makes another one just above it. You grit your teeth at the pain, becoming lightheaded. 

One for him.

Right next to his, he puts one more mark, breaking it down the middle.

One for Sabo.

“You good?” He questions once he's done. 

“I feel like I'm gonna faint.” You responded.

He wants to give your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, but he knows better. Any more strain and you probably would pass out. He opts for verbally comforting you instead. 

“It's all right. It's over now. You wanna see it?” He offers.

You find it in you to nod. 

He searches your workbench for a mirror. Shouting triumphantly once he's found it. He angles it to show you his handy work. 

Three hearts with one broken down the middle. It makes you want to cry. No longer the branding of a slave. No longer tainted by the worst the world had to offer. You were free. 

“You can get it inked up after it heals.” Ace informs. 

You don't say anything and it has him second guessing his choice. But then you turn to him with a shaky smile. You don't bother to wipe to tears from your eyes. 

“Thank you.” It was quiet, then you repeated it louder.

“Thank you for being born. Thank you for being in my life! Thank you for being my brother!”

Each iteration becoming more and more like a sob. Yet you're still smiling. Your eyes are filled with unwavering affection and gratitude for him. He can think of nothing else to say except-

“Love you too.”

—------------------------------

“Ace was the only one who knew. I never told Luffy because I figured he shouldn't have to see the worst in people. I didn't tell Sabo either because he was a noble. He'd probably feel like I should hate him.” You explained as you pulled down your shirt.

Law could do nothing but sit in silence, trying to process the situation. The rawness of it.

Who did you think you were? Being so trusting and vulnerable just because? Like being Luffy's ally made you friends all of a sudden. You and that damn brother of yours, acting like this alliance was more than just a means to an end. What were you trying to gain from this? There has to be a reason. 

“Why are you trusting me with this? I don't understand.” He questioned skeptically.

“I trust you because you look like you need it.” There was no hesitation when you spoke.

“You're always by yourself. Like there's a weight on your shoulders. You keep everything in because being vulnerable means reliving the hurt. But maybe knowing someone's there to listen makes it hurt less.”

He didn't want your pity, going to argue but realizing that's not what you're trying to give.

“Your person? The one you've been fighting so hard for? They wouldn't have wanted you to be alone.”

“Law's finally free now!”

Fuck it.

You were here.

You were safe.

You were offering to lighten his burdens.

He takes the bottle from you with shaky hands. Looking down at the empty cup of sake with a somber expression. He decides to take a swig from the bottle before offering it back to you. 

“The man who I owe everything to…His name was Donquixote Rosinante.”

The alcohol helps, but he thinks it's who you are as a whole that makes him open up. You bared the most tender parts of you. It's only fair he do the same. Your trust comforts him more than it should. 

He recounts stories from his childhood. The good and bad. He confides in the hopelessness he felt. How everyone except Corazon turned their backs on him. And you listen. You don't cower in fear or repulsion when he mentions Amber Lead Disease. You don't change the way you look at him. With soft reassurance.

He tells you about Corazon and his kindness. The man who gave up his life so Law could live his. He apologizes for his selfishness in getting Luffy involved with Dressrosa. Promising after Wano they'd be done. You don't want the alliance to be done.

The bottle of sake is passed between you two. You reward his openness with stories of your own childhood. Everything you could remember from before Garp made the decision to take you with him. The blind obedience you'd been forced to unlearn. The long sleepless nights filled with screams and pleas from the other slaves. 

And you talk about the after.

Your new life with Ace, Sabo, and Luffy. Your brothers who you loved more than anything, along with the mountain bandits who raised you. 

Law does the same. He tells you about how he cured himself. The way he steadily built himself up again and found a new family. His crew. All the trials and tribulations it took to get this far. 

It's not long before the bottle of sake is empty. You’ve both become drunk messes. Neither of you can see straight, but the atmosphere feels much lighter. By now, you're trading the sweeter sides of your childhoods. A game of sorts to make the other laugh. 

“Corazon couldn't go a day without lighting himself on fire.”

“Me and Luffy acted like children of a divorce when Ace and Sabo argued.”

The two of you look at each other, drunken grins breaking out on your faces as you fight back laughter. You break first. Giggling so hard there's tears. Law’s laugh is more silent, hiding behind his hand so you wouldn't see. 

All at once, you stand up on wobbly legs. You gesture for him to follow as you stumble out the door. In a similar state of intoxication, Law trails after you in confusion.

“Y/n-ya, where are you going,” he slurred out.

You cackle as you bump into a wall. Waiting for Law to catch up to you.

“I'm gonna make me a PBJ sandwich.” The look in your eyes is so pure, it makes his heart ache. 

He realizes you were standing in front of the kitchen’s entrance. A scowl makes its way to his face. 

“I hate bread.”

You look cartoonishly shocked by the information. 

“You hate bread????? So like, just peanut butter and jam on a plate then???”

“Why the fuck would I eat peanut butter and jelly on a plate?”

“I don't know. There's not a simple midnight snack I can make without bread!” Your eyes threaten to go in different directions.

“Just make me some rice balls.” He suggests.

“Do I look like Sanji?” you ask sarcastically.

Law drags a hand down his face in frustration. 

“You're such a pain. Fine, I'll do it.”

You watch as he begins to gather the ingredients. He keeps tripping over his feet, making more noise than usual. He lines everything up on the counter before starting to put the ingredients together. You peer over his shoulder with scrutiny. 

“You gotta make them with love or they'll taste bad.” You warn. 

He nudges you away. His movements are haphazard and clumsy. Rushing through the process out of spite. 

“NO! You're making them with hate!!!!” You shriek. 

“Because you keep annoying me!!! Quit breathing down my neck!”

You push him back, stealing the cup of rice and holding it out of reach. 

“Move! Just tell me what to do and I'll make them.”

“So now someone wants to cook?”

“Because you're making them with hate!!!!! Watch, there's gonna be a huge difference.”

He grumbles, but there's no further protest. You move as carefully as someone drunk off their ass could, listening to Law's instructions. When it comes time to shape the rice balls, you make them into hearts. There's extra care when you display them.

“Made with love,” you coo. 

He takes one from you with a roll of his eyes. There was in fact a huge difference compared to what they usually tasted like. Somehow more flavorful. But he'd never tell you. Not even with the hopeful expression on your face. 

“They still taste like they're made with ‘hate’ Y/n-ya,” he teased. 

You don't remember when it changed. How he went from calling you Reaper, to Y/n. If saying your name meant respect or fondness. And now he added the extra -ya at the end. You're sure Law didn't realize it either. Or rather, he didn't think it was worth acknowledging. 

You realize he's smiling at you. Not the usual one he gave where it looked like he was plotting a murder. This one is genuine. It's warm. You can feel your face heat up at the sight.

Happiness looked good on him.

Your eyes trail to his lips while he talks. You can feel your heart hammer away in your chest. And when he looks at you with affection, you want. 

“Can I kiss you?” You slur out without thinking. 

His cheeks go a bright red. Looking down at you with an expression that's scared and unsure.

“Why?” he asks in complete disbelief. 

“You make my heart do things.” You try to explain.

“You make mine do worse things.” He counters.

You make him feel wanted. Loved. All the sweet things he never thought he'd get to experience. It's scary because he truly can't fathom why you think he's someone worth having feelings for. What about him was there to love?

You notice the storm going on inside his head. So you cup his cheeks, guiding his eyes to meet yours. His breath catches in his lungs. Your touch is intimate, sparking up that feeling of yearning he tried to squash down. 

“Will you let me kiss you?” Your tone is impossibly soft. 

You're just making the alliance more complicated, he tries to reason. Law should say no with the little clarity he has left. Put a stop to what had just barely begun. 

“Yes.”

You move slowly, giving him time to back out in case he didn't truly want this. But he leans towards you instead, trying to meet halfway. You press your lips softly to his. The yearning in his chest swells. He presses back into you, reaching up to cradle your head. It's addicting. Consequence be damned, you both deserved a moment of happiness. 

Near the entrance to the kitchen, a horrified Bepo puts a paw to his mouth in shock. He backs away slowly from the sight.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

An: I can't help but write lore in my stories 😔. Y'all aren't ready for Wano. (It's just crack. Reader and Kid will be beefing for comedic relief) But for now☝️☝️☝️ I return to my HxH hole. 

If y'all wanna be tagged, just let me know. Although, this will probably only be one chapter longer when i get to it. Unless 🤔🤔🤔

TAGS: @historygeekqueen

[canastadisastrous]

reading mattfoggy as a karen enjoyer is an experience. where is she… where is my girl…

[neutron-stars-collision]

You know what would be nice? If Nicola solo stans got off their high horses and stopped treating indie productions like a lowly job, highlighting the fact that in their mind Luke has fucked up his career.

Because if that were the case, then half of actors/directors would be out of business.

[theblacklewinsky]

Note: it's been awhile. so many things in the vault. congestion's to me, you, and all the other wonderful 2025 graduates 🎓! May you succeed and reach all your goals ahead. Also, fuck ICE, & fuck Donald trump. I hope you enjoy <3

BUNNY & HER MAN. | AARON PIERRE.

Part Two.

Gentleman!Terry Richmond x Black! Female Reader.

Warnings: MDNI!! this story is 18+ with depictions but not limited to; sexual content ( oral sex (f receiving) fingering, water sports), extreme language (cursing, use of b-word and others.) slight daddy kink if you squint. Reader referred to affectionately as Bunny.

Summary: in which Terry is head over heels for his girl.

let's reconnect on the jet on the way to an island.

give you a second to get ready, then we right back in that action.

Grace Bay was beautiful.

Unless that's what Bunny heard. She hadn't been allowed to explore the island, or much less relax. It was well into the afternoon at this point, and the only thing Bunny had seen was the resort and the four lavish walls of their hotel room.

Terry hadn't laid off yet. Was it possible for a man to be this feral? To want you this bad? It was definitely possible for him.

A guttural moan slipped past Bunny's lips as Terry continued his assault on her pussy, fingers wedged inside of her wet walls, his own lips latched onto her clit in sloppy, slow sucks.

"Oh shit," she huffed, a small whine following after, her hands reaching out to firmly push against Terry's forehead, "stop, stop, stop..” she trailed a since of urgency in her tone. She was about to cum again, and she couldn't keep starting over. They'd be here all day fucking with Terry.

"Mm-mm," he hummed in defiance knowing fully she'd have a fit of he actually did stop, lips latching and unlatching onto her puffy clit, his fingers constantly curling up into her, he knew what he was doing, he knew what he was hitting. He pulled back, pulling his self up to his knees, he watched her expressions intently, that familiar frown setting upon her lips as her brows furrowed.

"You better fuckin' not," he muttered, voice flat, his eyes never leaving her face as he working his fingers inside of her in such a calculated way, curling them so often to continuously nudge against that spot he always seemed to find.

Bunny's breath seemed to come back to her in one big gasp, her chest heaving erratically as she tried to control her breathing once again, her hands blindly reaching out for some type of steadying or support.

Terry seemed undeterred by that, his own brows furrowing as he looked down at the juices he was pulling out of her, fingers soaked, a small puddle forming in his palm. The sounds of her juices clashing around his fingers seemed to overpower her uneven breathing and whimpers of overstimulation.

If he thought she was thinking before, he had to know her mind was empty by now.

"Pretty pussy wettin' me the fuck up," he hummed, eyes staring intently at her pussy in adoration, slipping his fingers out of her and landing three soft slaps to her sensitive core. Her body slightly jerking as he leaned down to softly kiss her lips. His lips traveling to her chin, "you did so good for me, pretty girl."

Bunny nodded in response, her low eyes, empty mind and slightly trembling figure didn't allow her to form words. Heavily sighing in response to the heated kisses he had trailing down her neck. "Buy you anything you want. Spoil you," he stated, voice muffled against her soft skin. He smirked hearing the small moan in response. If it was one way through Bunny's bratty heart, it was gifts.

"You want that, yeah?" He hummed against her neck, not allowing her time to respond before he drew himself back, both of his calluses hands gripping her calf's and roughly flipping her onto her stomach, a short burst of excitement and adrenaline coursing through her, going right to her pussy. It was so hard being a slut.

Her continued silence made him furrow his brows in mock confusion, his hands gripping either side of her hips and pulling her ass up to meet his pelvis, landing a sharp slap to her ass he prompted a light gasp from her.

"You hear me talkin' to you, bitch," he mumbled, "open yo' mouth."

"Can't," Bunny whimpered her face pressed against the white sheeting of the bed. Her eyes nearly closed, lips parted, and she could feel the roots of her knotless braids puffing.

And if nothing else hadn't inflated Terry's already swelling ego, that sure did. He loved that he could have her mind numb before he even penetrated her, his foreplay was a force to be reckoned with. It was even better that he knew how Bunny liked to be treated, she was a bratty princess anywhere else except when it came down to the bedroom. She liked to be fucked. Manhandled, degradation there for her was a slight heaven. And he understood that completely.

He hadn't responded to her claim, instead, his eyes staring into both of the pretty holes he admired so much as he spread her apart. The ache in his own boxers becoming too much to handle. Like always around her.

He used one hand to free the tent in his pants, his pointer and middle finger trailing lazily up and down her clit, sending little shivers through you, before slowly slipping them inside of her again, gathering whatever else he could get from her, "fuck," he uttered, watching his glossy fingers as he slowly retrieved them from her. He wasted no time in using that, to stroke into his member. He was so nasty.

The resembling moan the both of them shared once he had finally bottomed out into her, was in perfect harmony. If Bunny felt anything in this moment, it was completely full. Terry's hand gripping the fleshy skin around her hips as he worked his dick in and out of her, the slight burn from the stretch she felt perfectly complimented the overwhelming amount of pleasure she'd been experiencing since they'd touched down on the island. His other hand had a vice grip on the braids, wrapped securely around his hand, her head tilted back just so he could watch her intoxicating expressions.

The short gasps, and constant labored breathing brought nothing but a smile to Terry's face, able to see all of her overwhelming facial expressions as he filled her to the brim. Her broken moans and whimpers introduced the deep chuckle that fell from his lips.

"Oouu, fuck!" Bunny bellowed, her hands fisting the heavy comforter underneath them for stability as he drilled into her, the leverage he had on her hair and hips giving him just enough ammunition to thrust in her the way he did. Hard, deep. Everything was just so much. "Just like that, daddy!" She slurred through a series of lewd moans.

"Yeah? Like that?" Terry hummed in response, biting down on his lip at the sight of her withering right before him. It was some of his favorite shit to see, her falling apart had to be number one. He dropped both of his hands from their previous positions just to spread her open, spitting down onto that second winking hole he loved so much, his strokes undeterred as he used his thumb to rub it in lightly poking at it until he was able to slowly push it in. "You such a fuckin' slut. Look at you, been gettin' fucked all day just cause you don't know how to listen," he breathlessly mumbled in between a series of groans and moans.

The way Bunny fit around him was perfect, each time it was the most snug fit. So perfect that the reservations they had at that high-scale restaurant on the island went completely to waste.

[michanvalentine]

Astarion’s quotes that make my heart race!

Ok, maybe you’d expect something extremely romantic—but that’s not quite it. Or at least, not just that. There are moments when this vampire spawn truly drives me crazy—and not in a sexy way. Let’s just say that part is the cherry on top! But let’s not waste any more time…

"You deserve something real. I want us to become something real." Can we talk about this? This is the very first time Astarion truly opens up. Willingly. Officially. Even at the risk of being kicked out of the group, even at the risk of being told to fuck off—because yes, everything he did before was purely out of self-preservation. He used Tav/Durge and paid for the favor with his own body. And yet, he takes a risk. He puts everything on the line—even the very mechanisms that have protected him for centuries, allowing him to keep going without stopping, without thinking, without letting himself get emotionally involved. Because if he hadn’t dissociated, it would have hurt too much. But this time? He’s done pretending. This time, he really wants to try. He wants to take a chance—for the one person who managed to crack through his armor, who lowered his defenses. He wants to be real and experience something real, for the first time in over 200 years—with everything that comes with it. For someone who has always worn a mask, this is a massive, deeply important concept. Especially because, as I said, this confession goes against everything he’s ever believed—about love, about sex, about relationships. It goes beyond control. Beyond using emotions and feelings as weapons. Beyond self-preservation, which is what pushed him to act like a piece of shit so many times throughout Act 1. Here, Astarion takes a step away from selfishness and toward altruism—toward the other, beyond himself—and spits out the truth. He shows himself, stripped bare and flawed, and braces for the consequences. He takes responsibility for what he’s done. He makes himself vulnerable. And that’s an even more powerful, meaningful act when you remember just how hard that is for someone like him—someone who’s made fear his primary driving force for so long.

“This is a gift, you know. Thank you. I won’t forget it.” What can I say? It begins in Act One and ends at the conclusion of the Pale Elf’s quest in the “good” ending. The callback is incredibly powerful—revisiting the concept of the gift shows just how much he’s grown, how he’s come to genuinely appreciate what is offered to him. Even when it’s not what he expected, or what he claimed to desire. And in this case, we’re talking about trust. He is grateful for the trust he’s been given. Just like in the bite scene, where those words are first spoken. Trust in him as a person, not a monster. Trust in his qualities—the ones lying beneath the bitter, hardened, sarcastic façade. Trust in his potential. In the depth of his soul, where something much more profound is hidden. Something more delicate and vulnerable, too. And trust—or rather, certainty—that all of this has immense value and is worth nurturing. And for this, for the opportunity he’s given to finally explore that side of himself in his future, he is grateful. He considers it a gift. And that’s something that quite literally melts me.

“I did it. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” I’ve never experienced it in my playthroughs—I always freed the vampire spawn. Except for one time when I damned them, lol. But here, you can clearly see Astarion's growth and sensitivity. Not only that, but it also emerges in a context that doesn’t involve Tav/Durge, the safe harbor who has accompanied him on his journey so far. Instead, it involves the Gur tribe, with whom Astarion has a history that’s nothing short of turbulent: the law enacted against them, his own death, the kidnapping of the children. All violent and terrible events that left a mark on him—marked by hatred, anger, and shame. In this scene, there’s everything: forgiveness, reconciliation, redemption, leaving the past behind, and facing the future with a stronger, more determined spirit. Here, Astarion opens his mind and heart to someone he once despised, hated, and hurt. He acknowledges and embraces their pain, grief, even their resentment, and does so with compassion and newfound maturity. What else can I say but that I’m so proud of this mischievous little bastard?

“Even I deserve something better.” This is a moment I absolutely adore. I never cheated on Astarion with Mizora—just to be clear—I’ve only watched the cutscenes on YouTube. The she-devil just doesn’t do it for me, unfortunately for her. Lol. If I have to throw myself at someone with horns, I’d much rather pick Wyll or Karlach! <3 But back to why this scene makes my heart race… This is where you can see all of Astarion’s growth. All of it. This isn’t about jealousy—he makes that clear right away. We know very well that the spawn isn’t against open relationships; he’s even open to including Halsin in the mix. This is about betraying the trust of your partner—something he’s only just begun to claim for himself. To trust someone, and in turn, to be worthy of their trust. It’s a deep and incredibly important concept. If Tav/Durge attacks him with the idea that he would’ve been the first to jump into such situations and betray others, Astarion quickly replies that maybe, once, yes, he would have. But things change. People change. Another powerful concept. And the most beautiful part of all this is when spawn Astarion chooses to leave Tav/Durge, because he finally has enough self-respect and strength not only to keep going on his own, but to fight for himself. To say “No, thank you.” He’s no longer willing to settle, to bend, to swallow the bitter pill—even if that means parting from the person he loves more than anyone else in the world. Because yes, damn it, he deserves something better than that! And because, in that moment—just as he himself says—Tav represents everything he’s trying to escape from in order to become better: someone who only thinks about themselves, without caring about the consequences or who gets hurt along the way. Simply beautiful. Especially when compared to the tragic words of Ascended Astarion, who—when Tav/Durge suggests they had a bad night and regret it—responds by telling them not to dwell on it and to just focus on the next conquest. He doesn’t face anything. He runs. And deludes himself that next time, it’ll be better.

“You. I want you.” Okay, this is where my heart just can’t take it. Awwww. I mean—finally, after everything we’ve been through in the game, after all those times we’ve asked him “What do you want?” and all the times he wasn’t able to answer… At last, Astarion gives voice to his own desires and replies: “You.” Not power. Not control. The relationship. That deep connection with another person, without any more doubts, masks, roles (master, slave, vampire, human), or ulterior motives. Pure and simple, from one soul to another. It’s a conscious and free choice. From someone who, not that long ago, couldn’t even put a name to what he had with Tav/Durge—“What are we, to you?” “I don’t know. But isn’t it nice not knowing?”—I think he’s now fully realized how warm, comforting, and fulfilling it is to know. To be able to give a name to what binds him to another. And the “I love you” that follows not only warms our hearts—it shows us just how far this small, desperate vampire spawn has come. He’s achieved the unthinkable: reclaiming his shattered identity, freeing himself from the curse of vampirism—not physically, but spiritually—and rediscovering his right to be, to choose, to express himself, and to feel something real. But most of all, he’s found the ability to recognize it and name it, without fearing the consequences anymore.

I think there are more, but I’ll stop here for now. Every single line from Astarion deserves to be analyzed, if you ask me! I have a feeling my next list will be about the Astarion quotes that piss me off. Lol

[awionetka]

❝ 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐨 ❞ ft. 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛

with loyalty unmeasurable, strength unheard of and restraint hanging by the thinnest of threads, Sir Caleb falls victim to the simplest curse in the world – the forbidden fruit.

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫: fluff, suggestive (they want each other so bad it's making them look stupid). knight!Caleb x princess!reader. forbidden love. for the sake of the plot, Caleb is around ten years older than reader (who is, naturally, of age).

𝐜𝐰: mentions of weapons. flirting upon flirting with a sprinkle of some veiled seduction. all is fair in love and war.

𝐰𝐜: 3.1k

He seemed to be there always, lingering on the sidelines, observing from afar as you lived through what was meant for people like you.

When you lost your way in the garden maze outside the castle back when you were fourteen, he calmly guided you out of it, kindly allowing your hand to wrap around his forearm, knowing just how anxious you must’ve been. Or when you decided to begin riding horseback, it was him who followed you during your forest explorations, trailing behind at a respectable distance, not daring to invade your privacy. Even at the royal balls, oftentimes held in your honour, where you danced and drank freely, enjoying the good-natured fun – probably somewhere near the spiral staircase, body still clad in a full set of meticulously polished armour, with one hand placed firmly on the hilt of his sword. Silent. Solemn. Unreachable.

Yet still, always, always there.

Some would find that rather unnerving, how wherever you went, he followed, however for you Sir Caleb had always been a comforting presence. It was worth pointing out though that he was never appointed to you, not directly. He simply served under the King – your father – who treasured his sole daughter dearly, caring for you so wholeheartedly, you knew that you could ask him for anything in the whole wide world and he'd give it to you, no questions asked.

Anything except for one, gravely important matter – to marry.

In your father's eyes there hadn't yet been a candidate suitable for you – wise, doting, loyal, brave. The king believed you to possess all these qualities in magnitude and so many more, so why would he willingly give you away to those who had barely enough wit to make it to your Kingdom without falling off their horse? Such a thing could not be, not as long as your father was still alive and breathing.

Therefore, forbidden from any kind of adoration which could had been thrown your way, you spent your time with the ladies-in-waiting, practicing swordsmanship, playing with your most beloved puppy dog and, what had quickly become your absolute favourite, constantly bothering Sir Caleb with your presence.

"Will you be there at tonight's great ball, Sir Caleb?" you drawled, fidgeting with one of the arrows you'd pulled out from his quiver. "Truly be there, I mean. Not just standing menacingly in the shadows."

You'd managed to catch him during shooting practice at the training grounds near the pond and refused to let the chance slip. It was midday, the sun was partly covered by the most lovely of clouds and Sir Caleb's shirt was drenched in sweat, clinging onto his arm muscles with every precise move.

"I will be wherever I'm needed, Your Highness," he replied evasively, making you roll your eyes.

"Isn't all that just a fancy way of saying no?"

The knight didn't respond this time, focusing on his aim instead. Not like he needed much concentration anyway, you noticed. So far, each and every arrow hit the exact spot he intended it to hit. Truth be told, you preferred to observe him during hand-to-hand combat, as that seemed far more intriguing. Naturally, the fact that it usually made him much more worked up than archery had little to do with your preferences.

"What if I say I need you, then?" you said coyly, enjoying the falter in Sir Caleb's step as your bold words reached his ears. "Would you come then, Sir Caleb? I've been aching for a dance."

Hiding his fluster behind a dry cough, the knight resumed the practice, aiming for yet another target you could barely make out in the distance.

"I am more than sure that there will be many respectable gentlemen willing to dance with Your Highness this fine night."

You sighed ostentatiously, hopping off the ledge you'd been sitting on. "That I've heard, I admit..."

He just hummed, effectively avoiding your gaze as you made your way to where he stood, taut as the bowstring in between his fingers. The heat radiating off his body was palpable, even from a step away, and you couldn't help but wonder how Sir Caleb's skin would feel underneath your palms, bare and lifeful.

"But I." Tiptoeing, you leaned in, locking eyes on his current target with a wicked grin. "I wish to dance with you.

Walking away, not without a certain sway in your step, you noticed with unconcealed delight that his next shot was the first one you saw Sir Caleb miss.

Caleb was an honourable man.

At least he believed himself to be; patient and unyielding, reliable in both strength and sharp wit. He trained daily, cultivating skills of all sorts possible, raging from those used in combat to those needed elsewhere, spending hours upon hours reading and studying all that he'd deemed necessary. Caleb's social competency, conversational skill and gentlemanlike manners could be described only as perfectly immaculate, earning him a reputation of a dependable and fairly pleasant knight to His Majesty.

And yet, all those admirable qualities, accompanied by years of rigorous training and schooling could be diminished in less than a mere second, reducing Caleb to a man led by desires so carnal, he could barely acknowledge them without exiling his own damn self from the face of the Earth. For as soon as this Kingdom's most beloved princess stepped into the room, step light and playful, an epitome of joy, all he could think about was how it would feel to press you against the nearest wall and hike up your marvellous gown while confessing the most horrid, absolutely vile things right into your ear and watching as you squirmed in his grasp.

Oftentimes, he'd wonder, lose himself in all of the abominable daydreams which gnawed at his very soul each and every time you passed by, your aura enveloping him entirely, until there was no part of him that didn't belong to his delectable, brilliant princess. You were always so pristine, so impeccable. Even during combat practice, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily, hair tied back revealing the lovely shape of your face, you looked positively magnificent, just as much (if not more) as caught mid twirl in the middle of the ballroom, all dolled up and giddy from excitement.

Caleb was an honourable man. However tonight, his restraint was beginning to run thin, your coy request (or demand? an order...?) from earlier echoing around his head as he grabbed another glass of wine from the table next to him.

Usually, he didn't drink much, if anything at all. Knighthood required him to stay as vigilant as one could humanly be, therefore alcohol was mostly off the table for Caleb, even during such grandiose events as this one. His mind stayed sharp always, observing the surroundings, so the others, so you, wouldn't have to. It was his duty, after all, and Caleb held great pride in knowing he could be relied on in such a way.

However tonight, he was in desperate need of some liquid courage, if he was truly to ask you for a dance. Especially tonight, when you looked just so ravishing, his eyes could barely steer off your silhouette to maintain at least some semblance of composure. And, the worst of it all, if he were to guess, he'd say that you knew of it all already.

Of course you knew. How could you not? With a mere gesture, a flicker of your finger and a promise of a smile, you could have Caleb as you wished, heart ripped out of his chest solely for your amusement. He'd kneel at your feet, go completely silent for years or speak exclusively in poetry, steal for you, lie for you, kill and die, if it only meant keeping you content. The rest was of no importance to him when you weren't present to witness or benefit from it.

And amongst these benefits, unluckily for Caleb, was a few minute waltz you wished to experience with him out of all people gathered that night in the royal ballroom. However, whatever his princess demanded, she would receive, so he uttered a brief prayer and made his way to where you stood, joking halfheartedly with your ladies-in-waiting.

"Your Highness." The cheerful chatter dimmed in an instant when he approached, bowing with precise deliberation. "If I'm allowed to be this bold, may I be granted the pleasure of a dance in Your Highness's company?"

One of the women squealed excitedly, tugging at the sleeve of your exquisite gown, as you pretended to consider his offer with an undoubtedly mischievous glint in your eye.

"Mmm, very well, Sir Caleb." Your gloved hand reached forward in a wordless invitation. "You may."

Caleb had touched you before, briefly, yes, and never in such a direct manner, but he considered himself no stranger to the weight of your palm in his. He'd aid you while exiting a carriage or help you hop on your mare of choice, skin burning underneath all the layers of cloth and leather, just aching to breach the barriers and graze your flesh.

However nothing in this world could have prepared Caleb for such a prolonged and intimate contact with the sanctum of your body, arms aligned with his own and fingers mingling as the two of you glided across the floor. He'd foolishly believed that he'd be able to endure it, this delectable torture of your proximity, but his godlike restraint had already begun to wear thin, with every step and move.

"Is my dress to your liking, Sir Caleb?" Batting your eyelashes, you smiled sweetly, clearly basking in his utter embarrassment.

Keeping his gaze as far away from your figure as possible, he attempted to swallow the growing lump in his throat. "I fear… Uhm, I fear I do not know enough to be a judge of Your Highness’s choice of garment this night."

Even with his head turned, Caleb could sense your smile grow, causing a grin of his own to flourish unwittingly.

"Well then, I suppose we’re lucky that beauty is subjective after all, no?" Your hand squeezed his a bit tighter as you toyed with him, seemingly enjoying his internal torment. "You do not need to be a seamster to have a taste in gowns. So? What would it be?"

If he were to be truthful in that moment, he'd say that he couldn't care less about the damned dress, for you'd look just as lovely without it, stripped of all the flimsy ribbons and tulle, basking in the moonlight like a nymph.

However those who love are tricksters and deceivers by nature, so he only bit back his reply and said something insignificant instead, still, somehow, managing to make you chuckle. Caleb's heart stuttered painfully in his chest at the sound, so bright and carefree, just as you were. It was then that he'd begun to truly enjoy the dance, anchoring himself in the moment and savouring these few minutes of being the one you held in your arms. And perhaps... he could get used to this after all, the feeling of your hand in his, the occasional witty comment and feisty look you'd cast his way.

Caleb knew well that he should not, by any means, allow himself to drag you down to his level, for you were so much more than he could ever possibly become, even at such a young age. But then you grabbed his arm a little rougher, squeezing in between the guests and leading Caleb somewhere far, far away from all the festivities which were taking place. Still giggling at something he'd said, something he couldn't even properly remember, and oh, so charming and full of life and whimsy, he was beginning to feel lightheaded just by looking at you.

How could he ever refuse you...?

"I am so glad you finally asked me for a dance tonight, Sir Caleb!" Clasping your hands together, you sat on the intricate wooden bench underneath one of the windows overlooking the gardens. "I must admit, I did not expect you to do so."

Encouraged by a simple nod from you, he moved closer, feeling the evening breeze on all the exposed bits of his skin.

"I go where I'm needed, Your Highness," he replied curtly, observing as you stretched out your exhausted limbs in a manner quite similar to a particularly lazy feline.

"Quite lovely, however I must say untrue," you drawled, gazing his way unapologetically.

Caleb's brows furrowed. "How so...?"

"Oh, well..." Placing your chin on your hand, you looked the knight up and down. "It is just that I need you, often, and yet... you fail to come to me, after all. Do you not hear me calling out to you, Sir Caleb?"

It was as though a dagger laced with the deadliest of poisons was held at his throat, just waiting for yet another foolish decision he would inevitably make. Backed into a corner, a delectable one, no doubt, yet a corner nonetheless. Caleb's body trembled with the sheer strength it took him not to lunge forward, falling right at your feet just to beg for forgiveness for what he was about to do to his princess.

"Come, now." Your voice was quiet, barely audible, and so entrancing he didn't even notice he began to move before he was already situated by your side like some dog.

He gulped, looking up at you from where he sat on the stone cold floor, ceremonial cape long forgotten somewhere down the corridor, hands shaking fervently at his sides.

"This… Your Highness, this is highly improper. If anyone were to see Your Highness with me, in such a compromising position–" His voice failed him then and he had to force himself to come back to his senses. "I’d be executed on the spot for tarnishing Your Highness’s innocence."

"Is that what you fear then?" you scoffed, rolling your eyes at his explanations. "Death?"

The way you looked at him then, brows furrowed and lips quivering with disappointment, forced him to reply without further thought, closing the distance growing between you at once.

"No," he uttered, fingers wrapping around the hem of your gown. "No, never. Not if it could prove to be of any use to Your Highness."

"And yet you hesitate still. You wish to look however that is precisely where your advances end!"

Before Caleb could process what you had just told him, he recoiled, as though burned, much like a kid caught misbehaving.

"Truly?" you laughed then, brief and mocking, sounding eerily akin to pity. "You cannot be possibly surprised that I’ve taken notice of your wandering gaze, Sir Caleb. You are not the only one who can observe."

"Your Highness, I–"

You leaned towards him, tugging at your skirt in frustration. "Who do you think I do all this for? Allowing them to dress me up like some doll! All those corsets and petticoats, sleeves so long they dip in wine and peacock feathers stuck in my hair, all of it in hopes of you granting me a single comment! And yet, you do not care at all!"

"Princess…" He reached forward, allowing his hand to ghost somewhere next to your cheek in the faintest of attempts to console you. "If you knew the extent of my care, the amount of thoughts that plague my mind each day, hour and minute, you would tremble. For they’re all of you, for you, each and every one, from the sweetest and gentlest to the most shameful, deprived desires you could possibly think of. You’re haunting my very soul, day and night, even when you’re not present. I dream of you, irrevocably, with such burning passion I can barely hold it in. You have consumed my whole life, for it has no meaning if it’s of no use to you. I beg of you, my heart, my all, allow me to keep lingering, to devote my entire being to you, do as you please, I do not care. There is no other meaning of my miserable existence than being of service to you, surely… Surely you must know that. Till the end of time itself, I will adore you with all my might, as long as you let me."

In his whole life, he had never witnessed you at a loss of words. His most beloved princess had a proper response to everything, trivial or crucial, it mattered not. Your wit was outstanding, mind nimble and admirable.

And yet, in that moment, with his fervent, pitiful confession, Caleb had rendered you absolutely speechless.

In the utter silence that enveloped the dim corridor, he could hear you swallow thickly.

"Is this…" Your voice was trembling faintly. "Are you being truthful?"

He nodded solemnly. "Wouldn’t dare to lie to Your Highness."

"Show me then."

It was Caleb's turn to be taken aback at the extent of your boldness.

"Your Highness…?"

Grabbing the front of his shirt, satin gloves tickling at his bare chest underneath, you leaned in, eyes pleading and ardent.

"You say you live to be of service." Caleb swore he caught you sneaking a glance at his parted lips. "Grant me a kiss then, my dear knight. Let us test the depths of your devotion. I wish to feel those thoughts you speak of."

He opened his mouth yet again, however no word dared to come out, only huffs of air and desperation.

You angled your head, nose grazing his in the sultriest of ways.

"A kiss," you whispered. "Don’t be gentle. No use for courtesy anymore, not when my body craves yours so. Even... even princesses have deprived thoughts."

Honourable men showed restraint. They never faltered in their duties and beliefs, serving loyally under those they had once swore to aid and protect. Their needs came last, always, as they were of no real use to anyone else other than themselves and to desire was to be filthy.

Caleb knew that, all of it, remnants of his oath echoing around his head each and every time you looked at him as though it physically pained you to stay away. Yet it appeared to be of no importance in the very end, for he fell for it, entirely, and no matter what the final outcome would be, he'd still do it all over again if it only meant keeping his princess thoroughly satisfied.

Perhaps Caleb had never been an honourable man.

And maybe, just maybe, you didn't need one in the first place.

Allowing his hands to sneak around your waist in a makeshift promise, he basked in the feeling of your body trembling underneath his touch.

"Let us see if our thoughts are a match, then." His breath enveloped you whole as he spoke, eyes locked firmly on yours. "Your Highness."

[bad268]

Any chance for girlfriend!reader with Mick, where he takes her to a WEC race for the first time? sorry if too broad

So Romantic (Mick Schumacher X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Random Drivers

Requested: Clearly (I LOVE THIS AND I DONT WRITE HIM MUCH)

Warnings: Kinda mentioned fear of heights, proposal (ahh commitment!)

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1615

Summary: Mick is so romantic during the 24 Hours of Le Mans.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

You didn’t know what to expect when you agreed to go to an endurance race with Mick. Then, he asked you to come for the 24 Hours of Le Mans, and it suddenly became astronomically more stressful. 

You didn’t know anything about endurance racing other than the fact they it was longer-form racing and they change drivers at certain points. 

You didn’t know what would happen in between Mick’s stints or what you would be doing while he’s in the car. 

You walked into the paddock with Mick’s hand in yours as your eyes darted around. You wanted to see everything there was to see.

“Anything you’re looking forward to seeing?” Mick asked as he watched with amusement at your sparkling eyes, taking in everything.

“I heard Kool & The Gang and The Avener are playing during your stint, I think, so I might have to break out of the pits to go see that show,” You replied quickly as you started ranting about all of the things you wanted to see. “I also saw that there’s a Ferris wheel! We should totally do that when you’re not busy. It would be so romantic.”

“Oh, so romantic,” Mick added with a smirk as he led you to the Alpine motorhome, where you could drop off your backpacks for the night.

“Right!” You shouted before plopping onto one of the couches in the driver’s room. “And there’s other games I saw, so if I get bored in the garage, I might just sneak out.”

“And stop supporting me?” Mick gasped in mock offense as he sat beside you and threw his arm over your shoulders. “How dare you.”

“I will literally be wearing your name on my back,” You deadpanned, “And it’s not like you would want me to be too bored, now would you?”

“Oh, definitely not,” Mick played along, leaning his head against yours. “What else are you planning?”

“I could try to jump into commentary, see if they let me,” You started listing off on your fingers, “There’s an esports competition. I think I could channel my inner Schumacher and wipe the floor with the competition.”

“You’re basically a Schumacher at this point,” Mick interrupted. You paused, looking between him and your left hand suspiciously. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to find this ring on my finger, but oh, wait!” You joked before gasping and turning to face Mick completely, “You haven’t proposed yet! That’s crazy, don’t you think?”

“I’m working on it, trust me,” He chuckled, rolling his eyes. It had become a running joke recently since Gina’s wedding. 

You had caught the bouquet and looked straight over to Mick. You weren’t even trying to catch it, opting to stand off to the side, but when the other bridesmaids started jumping for it, the bundle of flowers just found its way into your arms. You weren’t even paying attention until you suddenly felt something in your hands, and the way you lit up before running over to show Mick is something he will never forget. Ever since that moment, you began jokingly pestering Mick about it.

Mick would never tell you that he already had a plan and a ring. That would ruin the surprise.

The rest of the day was dedicated to media and practice for the most part. You explored the grounds while Mick had to go be the public figure and athlete that he is, and it flew by. You checked out the museum, ate some local cuisine, and went to a concert in between hyperpole sessions.

By the time Saturday came, you felt like the only thing you were missing was the Ferris wheel, so you dragged Mick to the track slightly earlier than he needed to be. You had your heart set on going on that Ferris wheel with him, and what better time than when the Road to Le Mans race was going on?

“I don’t think we have time,” Mick said, dragging his feet lightly as you continued pulling him toward the giant wheel. “Do we even have tickets?”

“I’m not an amateur!” You gasped, stopping suddenly and looking back at him. “I come prepared. I already paid.”

“I would have paid. You don’t need to spend money on me,” Mick immediately said as the two of you approached the Ferris wheel. “I’ll pay you back.”

“Just us ice cream or something after the ride,” You dismissed as you handed the attendant your tickets and climbed into the basket. You sat down and looked to see Mick standing back with the attendant for a second, so you held out your hand for him. “You coming or what?”

Mick looked at you in disbelief before shaking his head with a small laugh. He carefully stepped into the basket and sat across from you while the attendant closed the basket off and stepped back over to the control panel. Behind you, the attendant sent Mick a quick wink before sending the two of you off.

“Why’d you choose to sit across from me?” You pouted, glaring at him as you went up. “I don’t bite.”

“That’s a lie, and you know it,” Mick said while pointing at you. 

“It’s my love language! What can I say?” You defended as you put your hands up in defense. “I just love you so much. I can’t express it any other way!”

“You’re crazy,” Mick said with a shake of his head. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“You’re right,” You agreed as you reached to grab his hand. “I am pretty lucky. I mean, you could’ve chosen anyone, and you chose me!”

“I would choose you a hundred times over if it meant I would be here with you,” Mick flirted shamelessly as he kissed the back of your hand.

“Oh my gosh,” You replied bashfully, “You’re making me blush. You’re so romantic!”

“All part of the plan,” Mick joked back. 

“El plan?” 

“Not that one.”

“Oh,” You muttered, thinking for a second before you felt the basket jolt to a stop. “What was that? What was that? What was that?”

“Calm down,” Mick tried to say as he grabbed both of your hands. “That is the worst thing to say to me right now,” You interrupted as you looked wide-eyed at Mick. “I didn’t realize I was afraid of heights until getting stuck at the top of a Ferris wheel.”

“Hey, just look at me for a second,” Mick comforted as he moved over to the other side to sit next to you. He kept one of your hands in his while he wrapped the other over your shoulder and pulled you into his chest. “Just look out for a second.”

The sun was high in the sky, the cars were flying across the track, and the horizon was different from what you expected. You could hear the fans below cheering, some were winning the games, and some were shouting for their favorite drivers. It was unlike anything you had ever experienced, and of course, Mick was there with you.

“It’s amazing,” You said slowly as you let your eyes roam around. “Thank you for letting me be here with you.”

“Always,” Mick said quietly before moving back to the other side of the basket. At least that’s what you thought, but he stopped and kneeled just in front of you. “For the record, I don’t want this to be your only Le Mans. I want to take you to every race…every event, every city, every chaotic, loud, beautiful moment that comes with this life. You are my whole world, and I can’t see myself going anywhere without you.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” You said in a higher-pitched voice as you flailed your hands a bit and looked up so the tears wouldn’t fall.

“I’m saying that you make all of this worth it,” He continued, grabbing one of your hands tightly as he reached back into his pocket slowly. “You make the wins feel better, the long flights shorter, and the losses less depressing. Truly, I knew I was going to marry you back when we first got together, but seeing you light up at Gina’s wedding solidified it for me.”

“You’re kidding me,” You whispered, covering your mouth with one hand as you squeezed his hand tighter while a couple of happy tears escaped your eyes.

“I think that leaves only one thing left for me to say,” Mick dragged on before slowly pulling the ring box out and holding it to you. “Will you marry me?”

“You’re so romantic, oh my gosh,” You cried, throwing your arms over him and dropping to the floor of the basket with him. You gave up trying to stop yourself from crying as you hid your face between his shoulder and neck. You nodded, suddenly unable to say anything else as you struggled to catch your breath.

“Hey, breathe please,” Mick chuckled, moving to pull you out of his shoulder. “Would putting the ring on make you breathe normally?”

Immediately, you started shaking your head as you took some deep breaths. Mick shook his head before lifting you to sit back on the seat. Then, he slipped the ring onto your ring finger. You didn’t even look at it before leaning forward to kiss him.

“How long have you had this planned?” You asked as you pulled Mick’s hand, so he would sit with you. You kept hold of his hand, moved it to wrap around your shoulder, and leaned onto his shoulder as the Ferris wheel started moving again.

“Honestly, since we got on the ride,” Mick admitted, “That’s what I was telling the attendant.”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2025. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[ellewritesx]

explore me slowly

(part two of the teach me slowly series)

Summary: Firsts aren't always easy. Lucky for you, Harry's got patience— and a plan.

Warnings: early stages of a relationship, age gap, lots of talk about virginity and sex, fingering, brief oral (f!receiving), sexual guilt (it's so common and it's time we start talking about it)

Based on: this ask!

A/N: hi lovelies! sorry this update took foreverrr. i've had a rough week, but i'm back now and working hard on creating new content for you guys :) i'm so happy to see the love i received on part one of this, thank you all sososo much. series tag list is open x

Word Count: 4,319

...

You're nervous.

Not the jittery, wide-eyed kind of nervous, but the quiet kind. It simmers just beneath the surface, where your stomach feels light and fluttery, and your thoughts are buzzing too fast to catch.

You're sitting with Harry on his couch, tucked beneath the blanket that always smells like him, like fresh, warm laundry and cedarwood and something a little sweeter underneath. The movie he put on a while ago has turned to static now, background noise, barely audible under the sound of your pulse in your ears.

Your mind keeps drifting back to last Friday night, to that first conversation you and Harry had about your virginity, turning it over in your head, trying to decide what you want.

But now you know.

You pull back a little, tilting your head to look at him properly, and your voice is smaller than you mean it to be when you speak up. ''I think… I want to try something tonight.''

That gets his attention.

His arm, which had been draped along the back of the couch and absentmindedly stroking your shoulder, stills. He turns to face you, scanning your features with those sharp, observant eyes like he's trying to understand everything you're not saying. ''Try something?'' he echoes, but it's not teasing. It's curious. Encouraging.

You nod. Your fingers curl in the hem of your shorts, anchoring yourself. ''I don't know what exactly. I just… I trust you. And I want to explore. Whatever you think is best to start with.''

He stays quiet for a beat, his thumb brushing the side of your thigh under the blanket. ''Are you sure?''

You nod again, firmer this time. ''Yeah. I've been thinking about it a lot. I'm not trying to rush into anything I'm not ready for. And I'm not ready for... everything, but we could do something else, right?''

Harry's expression softens into something tender. You can see it shift, the subtle change in how he's holding himself. The way he sinks a bit deeper into the cushions, like the weight of your blind trust, and his responsibility for it, slowly settles onto his shoulders.

''Okay,'' he says. ''We'll go slow. If you're okay with it, I'd like to understand where you're at. What you're comfortable with. What you like, what you don't like, y'know?''

You inhale deeply, your shoulders relaxing at the sound of his calm voice. You hadn't realized how much tension you'd been holding until now. You hum in response, heart thudding steady in your chest.

Harry's eyes flick to your lips, your eyes, your hands in your lap. He shifts slightly so he's facing you more directly. ''So… when you say you want to try something, what does that look like for you tonight? Is there something you've been curious about?''

You chew your lip. ''I don't know, really. That's the thing. I've never done any of this before, so I don't really know where I'm supposed to start, what I'm supposed to explore. That's why I'm asking you to... I don't know, lead. To tell me what to do.''

''I can do that. Is there anything that's off-limits tonight?'' he asks carefully, his hand moving to rest lightly on your bare knee.

You think about it for a moment, then shake your head. ''I don't want to… you know. Go all the way. Not yet.''

''Okay,'' he smiles, squeezing your knee softly in reassurance. ''What about me touching you? With my hands, or my mouth?''

Your breath catches, heat rushing to your cheeks. The words make you squirm, but you manage to give him a curt nod, forcing a tight-lipped, nervous smile. ''Yeah. I think I'd like to try that.''

He smiles gently, fingers brushing your neck, waiting for any sign of hesitation. When all he sees is curiosity etched onto your features, he dips his head under yours, pressing soft kisses to your neck.

Your heartbeat pounds under your skin as Harry caresses your arms, rubbing them up and down soothingly. You gasp when he sucks lightly on your skin, taking his time getting you in the mood.

''Do you want me to show you what feels good? Or do you want to tell me what to do?'' he murmurs, his lips brushing your collarbone.

You bite your lip, throat dry. ''I… I want you to show me.''

He stands up, then holds out a hand.

''Come here, love.''

You take it, and he tugs you to your feet, pulling a huffed laugh from you. He puts his hands on your waist and begins slowly walking you backward, firm and deliberate, toward his bedroom, not breaking eye contact once. Something about it, the effortless confidence he exudes, the air of nonchalance, makes your breath hitch.

And when your back hits his bedroom door, he pauses. He leans in, foreheads touching, his breath mingling with yours.

''You're sure?'' he whispers.

You nod. ''I'm sure.''

And then he kisses you, deep and passionate, his hand fumbling for the door handle behind you. He chuckles against your lips when he clumsily opens the door, and you both stumble in with a laugh.

Harry's bedroom is dim, the lamp on his bedside table painting the room in a soft yellow. You turn around, taking in his space. It feels intimate. It's simple, minimalistic, but so Harry.

There are sticky notes attached to the small notice board above his desk, filled with hasty scribbles like yoga pushed to 7 this Thursday!!! and pick up mum from the airport!!! and a nonsensical jumble of random words and phrases. Lyrics for new songs, you think.

The door clicks shut behind him and you feel his presence behind you, steady, unfaltering, unlike the beat of your heart. For a second, neither of you speak. You're not sure when the room got so quiet, but your pulse thrums in your ears, the sound of your shallow breathing seeming to mute everything else.

Then his arms slide around your waist from behind, pulling you back into the solid heat of his chest. He dips his head to your height and presses a kiss just behind your ear, then another one to the slope of your neck, and you melt into him by instinct.

His fingers find the hem of your hoodie, his hoodie, technically, the navy one you borrowed weeks ago and never gave back. It still smells faintly like his cologne, the way his clothes always do when he forgets them on your couch. He gathers the fabric, lifting it inch by inch until it bunches beneath your waist, right above your grey shorts.

It had felt a little silly when you put it on after your shower this morning, but his mouth twitches into a smile when he recognizes it, his fingers toying with the material. ''This mine?''

''Yeah. You were outgrowing it anyway,'' you tease, turning around in his hold and playfully squeezing his biceps. He's been frequenting the gym increasingly more often, and it shows. You assume it's his way of blowing off steam now that he's not performing.

''Hm. It does look better on you,'' he grins, pressing a kiss to your temple as his hands trail lower. He gently tugs at the hem, waiting for your approval. ''Can I take this off?''

You hesitate, just a second, but it's enough to make him pause, watching you closely. It's not that you don't trust him, or don't want to, but you can already feel the air on your thighs, your stomach, the dip of your lower back. And the idea of being completely bare under his gaze, no barriers, no fabric, no layers to hide behind, suddenly feels a little too exposed. Too vulnerable.

Your hands catch his quickly, wrapping around his palms, though you know that Harry wouldn't move an inch without your consent.

''I… would it be okay if I kept it on? Just for now?'' you ask, cheeks burning. ''I don't think I'm comfortable being fully naked yet.''

There's not even a beat of silence before he nods, brushing your hair back behind your ear. ''Of course. You don't have to do anything you don't want to. You look beautiful like this, too.''

Your hesitation doesn't frustrate or deter him. Instead, he reaches for the hem of his own shirt, and in one smooth motion, he pulls it up over his head and carelessly tosses it aside.

Your breath catches. He's so close that you can see the faint freckles adorning his collarbone, the gold cross nestled between his pecs, the trail of ink curling down his strong arms.

You reach out before you can second-guess it, fingers brushing across the small tattoos above his heart, the ones you've only ever seen half-hidden beneath his clothes. Your hand grazes the tattoos that trail down the skin of his left shoulder, his bicep, his arm, like a river that meanders delicately through a forest.

He watches you, quiet and confident, as your palm flattens over his chest. His skin is warm under your fingers, smooth and solid and real. You trace one of the swallows across his collarbone, then dip lower, brushing your knuckles down the line of his sternum. The ridges of his abs flex slightly beneath your touch.

''You're so…'' you trail off, suddenly embarrassed by your own awe.

Harry gives you a lopsided smile, like he knows what you mean without needing to hear it. ''Thank you, baby. You can touch me as much as you want,'' he says, voice thick with something more tender than lust. ''Take your time, darlin'. I'm not going anywhere.''

You lean up to kiss him, and when your hands settle around his hips, he presses forward just enough to guide you backward toward the bed. Your knees hit the edge of the mattress and you land with a soft thud. Harry follows, kneeling between your legs, one hand curling around the back of your thigh to pull it around his waist.

You shiver when his knuckles graze the edge of your shorts, and he catches the reaction immediately.

''Still okay?'' he murmurs against your lips.

''Yeah,'' you whisper. ''I just… don't know what I'm doing.''

''You don't have to,'' he insists. The sheets are cool against your skin, grounding, while Harry hovers over you, broad and warm and impossibly gentle and patient. ''That's what tonight's for, yeah? You tell me what feels good. What doesn't. I'll listen.''

His fingers stroke over the outside of your shorts first, featherlight at first, then with a little more pressure. Just enough to let the heat pool low in your belly, your thighs pressing together instinctively at the unfamiliarity of it all. You let out a soft, shaky breath.

He looks up at you, lips curved, eyes kind. ''That feel alright?''

''Mhm.''

''Use your words for me, baby,'' he teases lightly, but there's no pressure. Just playfulness.

You swallow. ''It feels… really good.''

That earns you a kiss, warm and sweet, and this time his hand drifts over your stomach, fingers brushing under the hem of your hoodie. He doesn't try to lift it again, just slips his palm beneath the fabric, splaying it over your skin, stroking your bare side.

His hands don't rush. They just keep tracing the shape of you, mapping the curves and valleys like they're sacred terrain. Then his fingers slide down past your navel, knuckles grazing your skin, brushing the waistband of your shorts.

You draw in a shaky breath.

''Still good?'' he asks, watching you.

You nod. ''Yes. Please.''

He smiles reassuringly and continues his trail down your shorts. His fingers move over the cotton, just the faintest pressure, barely there. But even that is enough to send a jolt through you, hips twitching in surprise when he brushes against your clothed clit.

You're more sensitive than you expected. Everything feels heightened: his breath on your cheek, the press of his fingers through the fabric, the weight of his gaze on your face.

''Feels good?''

You nod, unable to speak.

He strokes over the same spot a little more firmly this time, slow and rhythmic. ''You're already wet,'' he groans, almost like he's in awe. ''I haven't even done anything. Fuck, that's so hot.''

You flush, turning your face into his shoulder, and he chuckles softly. ''You don't have to be shy with me,'' he whispers. ''Nobody's around. It's just you and me, yeah? I've got you.''

You nod bashfully. His hand slips under the waistband of your shorts and slides your panties aside with a gentle tug. For the first time ever, someone else touches you where you've barely explored yourself, the pad of his finger dragging softly through your folds.

You tense instantly, just from the unfamiliarity of it, but he doesn't push. Just keeps it slow, gentle, careful, learning the way your body responds, noting every soft whine and every stutter of breath. It's a different kind of touch than your own. More assured. Confident, but not cocky. He's paying attention to every shift in your body, like your pleasure is a language and he wants to be fluent.

He finds your clit and circles it with the pad of his finger, light and teasing, until your hips lift from the bed with a choked whimper, and his pace quickens. You didn't know it could feel like this. Every nerve is lit up, like your skin is catching fire in the best way.

''Oh,'' you breathe out, your body sinking into the mattress as you sigh contently, the tension in your muscles melting away.

Harry smiles. ''Yeah?''

You nod, eyes fluttering shut, head thrown back against the pillow.

Harry glances up again, pride flickering in his expression. ''That good?''

''So good,'' you whisper.

He grins, but it's soft, not smug. He eases you further back onto the bed, and you go willingly, your legs falling open around his waist as he crawls down your body, pulling your shorts down with him as he goes, just enough to expose your panties to him.

Then he leans in and presses an open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh. And another, closer to the edge of your underwear. He hums low in his throat, like the scent of your arousal has undone something in him. His hand is still between your thighs, and he pushes a finger inside, just one for now, testing, studying your reaction, while his thumb keeps stroking your clit to keep you relaxed.

Your breath catches at the stretch. It's not painful, just… new. Unfamiliar. Full.

But it feels good. Better than anything you've ever felt on your own.

Harry leans his cheek against your inner thigh, watching your pussy accomodate to the stretch of his finger with awe etched onto his face. His eyes flick up to your face, searching your expression for any discomfort or pain. ''Too much?''

You shake your head. ''No. Feels… good.''

Then he kisses your thigh again, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder. A shiver runs down your spine when you feel his hot breath against your cunt, and you realize what he's planning.

But when you feel the first swipe of his tongue, it's too much.

You gasp and your hand flies to his hair, not tugging hard, just enough to pull him back. ''Wait. Sorry. That's... a little overwhelming.''

He pulls back instantly, looking up at you with such gentle understanding it nearly makes your heart burst out of your chest. ''Don't apologize. That's totally okay.''

''I don't know why,'' you say, cheeks warm. ''It's just… a lot.''

''It's okay, love. This is all brand new to you,'' he soothes, pressing a kiss to your thigh. ''We can save that for another night, yeah? We have all the time in the world to go slow, baby.''

There's no disappointment in his voice. No pressure. He's just... here. With you. For you. The realization tugs at your heartstrings.

You nod, and he climbs back up your body, propping himself up on one arm, letting you catch your breath as he hovers over you. The warmth between your legs lingers, building slowly as his hand starts to move again, hushed praises falling from his lips.

His touch is focused, fingers slow, right where you need them. This time, you relax into it. Let the tension coil in your belly, growing tighter and tighter with every slow circle of his fingers, every kiss he presses against your shoulder, your jaw, your temple.

Your breathing stutters. Your thighs clench. Your fingers dig into his forearm, making him groan. He curls his finger slightly and your back arches with a sudden, gasping moan.

''Harry, fuck—''

''There she is,'' he breathes. ''There you go, darlin'. That's it. Let go for me. You don't have to think. Just feel. I've got you.''

He keeps the rhythm steady, his thumb circling your clit, his finger curling inside of you. Your thighs tense, your hips stutter, and then your whole body locks up with a choked sound as the pleasure spills over all at once. Your orgasm crashes into you like a wave, sharp and sweet and overwhelming in the best way. Your fingers grip the bedsheets, and you can barely hear yourself moaning his name like a prayer, your breath stuttering out in broken gasps.

Harry's voice is low and tender as he eases you through it. ''That's it, baby. So good. So fucking good. You did so well for me.''

You're shaking while he helps you ride it out, only pulling his hand out of your shorts when you whine quietly in overstimulation, your chest heaving. His attention shifts to you immediately, cradling your face in his palm, brushing sweaty hair from your temple.

''You okay?''

''Yeah. Just…'' you swallow, blinking up at him, dazed. ''I think… I think that was my first real orgasm, Harry.''

He stills, his mouth curving into a slow smile. ''Yeah?'' he says, and he sounds so proud you could cry. ''That was your first?''

You nod again, cheeks hot. ''I thought I'd already had one, but it's never felt like that before. Not even close.''

He leans in to kiss you, cradling your cheek like you're the most precious thing he's ever laid his hands on. ''Fuck, baby. Thank you for letting me be the first. That means more than you know.''

He rolls over and plops down on the mattress with a content sigh, one arm falling over his eyes. You rest your head on his heaving chest, heart still pounding, and his other arm instantly wraps around you, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back.

Your body feels weightless, boneless, like you've melted into the sheets completely. The air around you is warm and still, the silence only broken by Harry's pants beside you.

The hem of his hoodie is still bunched around your thighs, and you're vaguely aware of the dampness between your legs and the faint throb in your muscles. It doesn't hurt, it just lingers, like your body is still catching up to the memory of being touched.

Harry presses a kiss to your temple, then leans up on one elbow, brushing your hair back gently.

''Stay here,'' he whispers. ''Gonna get you some water and a towel to clean you up, alright? I'll be right back, promise.''

You nod, dazed. His voice is so soft. So safe.

A few minutes pass while he moves around the room. You hear the faucet turn on in the bathroom, the clink of a glass against porcelain, the shuffle of his feet across the floorboards.

Everything is ordinary. Normal.

But the longer you lie there, the tighter your chest becomes.

It starts slow. A little whisper in the back of your mind. You did that. You let someone do that to you. You gave it away. It's over.

Your thighs are still damp. You feel the stickiness on your skin and suddenly you can't breathe quite right. Your heartbeat starts to pick up. A sour kind of shame crawls up your throat, thick and hot, choking you before you can swallow it down.

You shift in the bed, curling your legs up to your chest. Your fingers tighten in the sheets, knuckles turning white from your grip.

It was good. He was kind. You wanted it. So why do you feel like this?

The door creaks open again. Harry enters quietly, carrying a glass of water and a warm washcloth. His eyes go to you first, always to you, and the second he sees how you're curled in on yourself, his face tightens, his brows furrowing.

''Hey,'' he calls out gently, setting everything on the nightstand. ''What's wrong?''

You try to speak but your throat closes up. The tears come suddenly, a choked sob leaving your chest. One moment your eyes are just stinging, the next they're spilling over, silent and hot, streaming down your cheeks faster than you can wipe them away.

Harry's at your side in an instant.

''Baby…'' He kneels beside the bed, cupping your face in both hands, eyes scanning yours like he's desperate to read your mind. ''Talk to me. Did I hurt you? Was I too rough?''

You shake your head, but your voice is caught in your chest.

''Do you… do you regret it?'' he asks, and you hear the break in his voice. ''Did I do something wrong?''

''No,'' you whisper, your voice hoarse and cracked. ''No, it's not you. You didn't, Harry. You didn't do anything wrong. You were perfect.''

His brows pinch together, eyes searching, lips parting like he wants to understand so badly, but can't. ''Then what is it? What's hurting you, love? Please talk to me. Tell me so I can fix it.''

You swallow hard, wiping your tears in silent frustration, your voice small and scared. ''I just feel… gross. I feel dirty. I don't know why. I wanted it, and I don't... I don't regret it, but now that it happened I...'' you hiccup a sob. ''I feel so fucking ashamed.''

The words are like acid in your mouth. Saying them aloud makes them more real.

Harry's eyes soften instantly, his whole body folding toward you. He takes a seat next to you on the bed, pulls you into his arms gently. ''Oh, baby,'' he breathes out, cradling you against his chest. ''I'm so sorry, love. I should've realized how you were feeling sooner.''

You press your face into his shoulder, fists curling in the fabric of his sweatpants. ''It's not your fault,'' you whisper. ''I promise. I just… it's me. Something's wrong with me.''

''Nothing's wrong with you,'' he says, kind, but firm. Definitive. ''Nothing. This is so much more common than you think, baby. Especially when it's your first time.''

''Really?'' you ask, timid.

He pulls back slightly to look at you. ''Yeah, love. You can want it, and it can feel amazing, and you can still feel overwhelmed after. It's okay to feel both things at the same time,'' he gives you a pained smile, his thumb brushing a tear from your cheek. ''It's not because you did something bad. Not at all, baby. It's because we're taught to feel shame around sex. Especially women.''

You sniffle, the words loosening something in your chest.

''I just feel like I lost something,'' you say quietly, shame sinking into your bones. ''Something I can't get back. And I know I chose it. I don't regret it, I really don't, but it feels... sinful, almost. Like I should've saved it longer, or done it differently, or just… I don't know.''

Harry kisses your forehead, his lips lingering there. ''You didn't lose anything, darlin'. You shared something. With someone who loves being trusted by you. You didn't lose anything.''

Your eyes blur again at the softness in his voice. ''But it feels so wrong, and I know that doesn't make sense. You were gentle, and I wanted it, I loved it, and I still feel like I did something wrong.''

Harry wraps his arms tighter around you, holding you close like he can protect you from your own insecurities. ''It makes perfect sense,'' he says. ''You're not wrong for feeling this way. You're human. You're taught that virginity is something that gets taken from you. It's not. It's an experience you share, but nothing fundamental changes.''

You bury your face in his neck, your voice muffled. ''But why do I feel so small?''

''Because it was a big step,'' he says simply. ''Because it mattered. You've built this up in your head for so long, and maybe part of you started to think doing this would change you forever. But you're still the same person you were yesterday, baby.''

Your breath shudders and you collapse into him, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist, and he just holds you, rocking you softly and murmuring sweet reassurances and praises into your hair.

Eventually, the tears ease. The ache in your chest dulls. You feel whole again, grounded. And you stay there, in his arms, breathing in the safety of his skin, until the world feels quiet again.

Harry kisses your hair and whispers, ''Wanna try that water now?''

You sniffle and nod, still tucked against him. ''Yeah. Thank you.''

He reaches for the glass and hands it to you, his fingers brushing yours. You bring it up to your lips and gratefully take a few sips before handing it back to him with a shaky smile.

''You okay to stay here with me tonight?'' he asks as he puts the glass back on his nightstand.

You nod again, taking in a shuddering breath. ''Please.''

He helps you under the covers and slips in beside you. You curl into his chest and he strokes your hair like it's second nature. Like holding you is something he was made to do.

''I think I'm in love with you.''

...

thank you so much for reading! i appreciate any and all support so remember to like, comment and reblog. requests are open! 💕

general tag list

@2601-london @mads3502 @angeldavis777 @run-for-the-hills @postsexfistbump @hobireasns @madilee7802 @spinninc @practistyles @qrapejuices @fangirl509east @sstylezzz @hontpwk @lichi-dunkera @prettygurl-2009 @violinheartxx @gotthecinema @ghstyles @triski73

teach me slowly series tag list

@maddiesalvatore1839 @mleestiles @imaginexxharry

...

[pegasus-omega]

Picture source: @jocks--in--socks

Anonymous requested story via DM

Jackson found his new neighbor Trey extremely attractive. He would sneak a peek every time he saw him go out for his morning run. The prevailing thought in his mind was that he was so jealous of the socks he wore. The thought of absorbing all his sweat while he wore him gave him a hard-on each time. The thought of surrounding Trey's feet for hours haunted his mind like an agonizing thought that could not become reality. He so wanted to experience being his socks.

Jackson one day decided to stop dreaming and make it a reality. He downloaded the TF Pro Max app onto his phone. He went over to his neighbor's house and knocked on the door.

Trey came and opened his front door. "Oh, hey Jackson, what's up." He asked. He always thought his next-door neighbor was so nice and friendly.

"Nothing much, I just wanted to ask you something. Is it alright if I came in to ask you?" Jackson asked him. He was happy when Trey said yes.

Trey led him to his den. "What you wanted to ask me?" He was curious.

"Well, you see I have had this fantasy of being a pair of socks on your feet for a while now. I know that sounds strange, but I, really do want to." Jackson paused as he showed him the app on his phone. "With this, you can change me into your socks. I would be grateful if you do me that favor." He finished, waiting on his response.

Trey saw it as a rather strange request. He had never had anyone asking to, literally be his socks. Yet, to show the proof that it can be done was also bold enough. He thought himself a nice guy. There was no way he could turn his neighbor into a pair of socks and wear him on purpose. "I don't know if I could do that to you. My feet can get sweaty, really bad. Also, most of my shoes have a strong odor. Being a pair of socks might not be as enticing as you think. Just being honest." He tried to dissuade his neighbor from the notion.

"I still want that, please. I want to know what it feels like to be wrapped around your feet. I won't mind the sweat or foot odor, I promise." Jackson pleaded his request.

"You sure you, really do want this?" Trey paused. "If you were my socks, I would have to walk on you. It might not be as enjoyable." He continued to try and dissuade him again.

"Please! Please! Do this for me." Jackson pleaded even harder than before. He wasn't accepting no for an answer.

Trey saw that his neighbor wasn't changing his mind one bit. "Okay, but only for a little while. If I don't feel right about it, I am changing you back. Agreed?"

"Yes and thank you." Jackson handed the phone over to Trey.

Trey explored the app, getting used to how to navigate it. He then turned the phone camera at Jackson. "You asked for this, so don't complain about it." He hit the flash option. Jackson was instantly reduced to a pair of light grey socks on the floor. He picked them up. It was strange seeing a human being, literally turned into socks right before his eyes. He tried them on his feet. He saw the level of comfort was different from normal socks. They felt good on his feet. He didn't know whether it was because of the human factor or something else. He decided he would wear his neighbor for a little while at least.

Jackson was in heaven. It was just like he had imagined. He was tasting every inch of his neighbor's feet. He could smell with such intensity. Having his dream become reality was so perfect. He loved being wrapped around his godly feet. He wanted nothing more than this in his life.

TWO WEEKS LATER.....

Trey sat on his floor in just a t-shirt, underwear, and his favorite pair of socks. His former neighbor had been the best pair of socks he owned. They were so comfortable and durable at the same time. He no longer felt guilty for wearing him so much. If Jackson wanted to be his socks, he was fulfilling his dream. There was no harm in that. He honestly didn't know if he wanted to turn back to human again since socks can't speak or move. That choice was in his hands. It was also an easy choice. Jackson was the best pair of socks ever, and there was no way he was changing him back whatsoever.

Jackson loved his owner and master even more than when he was first changed into his socks. It was the greatest pleasure to support his feet and weight despite the pain he had to endure with each step. As for the foot sweat and odor, that was the best part in his opinion. He loved smelling like his owner's feet day in and day out. He didn't even miss his human life. As far as he was concerned, he was where he needed to be, wrapped around Master Trey's feet.

[n4gin4gi]

SWEET LIKE CANDY!

contents; yuuji itadori x male reader, gentle sex, reader and yuuji are virgins, reader and yuuji are both of age.

rinuu says; waaahhh im so sad abt my other acc . . idk what i did to have it goneeee :( all my moots are gone :(

“yuuji…” your voice was the softest whisper, hair splayed out on the pillow of yuuji’s bed, calling out to your boyfriend within the depths of your heart. yuuji’s fingers, calloused yet soft, slick with lube, pressed to your hole and slipped past. he kept his fingers still, keeping his eyes on any sign of discomfort, and once he deduced there was none, slowly pushing deeper to feel the innermost parts of you.

yuuji let out a soft curse under his breath when you let out the prettiest moans he’d ever heard from you. he wanted nothing more than to kiss you and swallow them down and feel your pleasure as if it were his own. and that he did. yuuji pressed his lips—chapped and dry from how nervous he was—to yours. he took note of every throaty whimper, every twitch of your leaking cock, everything. he wanted to make his first time, your first time, as special as it could be.

his fingers slowly pumped out of your lube slicked hole, pressing and prodding your soft gummy-like walls, and you couldn’t think of anything you wanted more. you arched your back, leaning your hips against his fingers just to feel the pressure yuuji put on you. your bodies were slick with sweat built up from the heat, the pleasure, the need and lust to explore each other’s bodies until there was nothing more to explore. so this is what love truly was?

yuuji’s fingers— slightly pruned and glistening—pulled out of your heat and you were left with a burning sensation. your hole was just beginning to get used to the sensation of being full with something, and now that it was gone, it was begging for it to return. you called out yuuji’s name once more, met with the sound of a wrapper crinkling. you glanced to your boyfriend—a condom packet was held in his hand as he pulled the rubber out of the silver packet.

a bashful grin dusted accompanied with pink blush painted yuuji’s face. “gotta be safe, y’know. cant have you pregnant.” he joked, pulling down his sweatpants to roll the condom on his cock. you’ve seen yuuji’s dick before (by complete accident. he was changing, you walked in without knocking), so it wasnt that big of a shock, but now that it was… closer, you couldn’t help but take in the details of it all. yuuji was a little above average, soft pink tip, girthy. nothing that you hadn’t seen in porn, yet it was special, because, well, it belonged to the your one and only yuuji itadori.

“you ready?” yuuji kissed your forehead, slowly pushing in. the pressure was intoxicating, suffocating you in the most delicious way.

you couldn’t get enough, and you wanted so much more.

[sodapopkiss6]

Dom MC/Sub Sylus+pet play+dumbification

Sit with me and hear me out

Okay so I was thinking about you slowly realizing how much Sylus likes the idea of being owned, of you owning him. And little by little you nurture that side of him until he reaches a subspace where he is nothing more than a dumb horny dragon that's eager for his owners touch.

His submissive side is already established and known in the relationship, but you take it a step further. Exploring the side of him that wants to give up control, to be nothing more than a good dragon for you.

You combine praise and degradation when pointing out his habits as a dragon. The small blush painting his ears a sign of enjoyment, encouraging you to keep going. You know Sylus wouldn't admit it out loud yet, but he always makes sure to give you signs of approval through his body language.

After the first time the two of you try it (im thinking it's sudden, unexpected, but you try to work it out), the two of you have a discussion about it, setting boundaries, safe word and everything. Sylus is a bit reluctant at first, but then opens up. From there the two of you work on it and explore.

I think there would be a very clear line between when and when not to engage in that sort of scene though. I feel like it would be more of a bedroom only kind of scenario.

I also think it's not too often that you do it, while Sylus is submissive, it's hard to reach that level of subspace. I think it's something that you notice he silently asks for when he's extra stressed or tired.

Possible scene:

Misuse of a high heel btw, you fuck him w it so yeah warning for that

You sit at the edge of the bed, fiddling with a leash that is attached to Sylus. He's naked on his knees on the floor, face and chest flushed, eyes dazed as if in a trance. His lips form a small pout when you deny him again a taste of you.

"No Sy, only good dragons get to taste their master and you were anything but one today" you chastise.

"I'm sor-"

You tug his leash.

"Pets don't talk"

He whimpers, resting his cheek on your thigh, looking up at you pleading. You laugh cruelly, "Aww poor thing, so desperate for anything, are you that much of a slut for your master?"

Shamelessly he nods, too far gone to feel any embarrassment.

"Too bad, you're not getting a reward today"

Sylus has to stop himself from begging, instead whining and looking at you. Hoping you'd change your mind and allow him to have a taste.

"Maybe next time you'll think twice before misbehaving in public again" you raise your foot, the tip of your high heel teasing his pelvis.

He shivers at the touch and your eyes squint "perhaps I've spoiled you too much, you've forgotten your place"

Sylus shakes his head, looking up at you. You gently cup his cheek, making him nuzzle into your touch.

Suddenly you grip his chin and force him to look up.

"Pathetic"

He whimpers.

"You really are nothing more than a dumb slut eager for attention, is that why you were threatening my coworker earlier? What, did you think he was gonna take your place? That I was gonna abandon you?"

Slowly, he nods, making you grin.

"How cute, don't worry, I won't abandon you" you move your high heel down, rubbing the tip of his cock which has been hard and leaking for hours.

"I mean how could I when I've already ruined you for anyone else?" You pull your high heel down on his length before moving it away, seeing how it bounces back up, smacking his lower abdomen.

He moans softly at the sensation, then looks up to you, silently asking for more.

Feeling nice you cross your legs, wiggling the one that's raised, "Here, that should be enough for my needy pet right?"

Sylus instantly nods, grateful for your kindness. You tug on his leash, quickly, he moves his legs on the sides of yours, his hard length pressing down on your foot. The high heel makes your foot curve nicely, just the right angle for him. His precum drips on to your foot, making his dick slide with ease.

He whimpers, you can feel him throbbing and twitching, aching for release.

"Is this what you wanted silly dragon?"

He moans and nods, humping you faster. His mind unable to form a single thought, everything was fuzzy he can only think about how amazing your touch feels.

"So eager, is cumming all you can think about?" You slide your foot further back, the tip of your high heel poking his lubed hole, "though I doubt you can cum without me touching here"

Your high heel gently rubs circles around the rim of his hole, waiting for a yes or no.

"But, maybe you could if you go faster" you say, giving him an out.

Sylus breathes, trying to clear his mind just enough to decide.

The idea of you humiliating him like that, treating him like he doesn't deserve you, like he doesn't deserve more, is surprisingly hot to him.

Making up his mind, Sylus spreads his legs more and sinks down a little, gasping at the feeling.

You hide your disbelief by laughing "You really are nothing more than a needy pet huh? Eager to take anything just to cum. I bet you rub yourself against the door while waiting for me to come home"

Sylus whimpers and shakes his head, but you don't miss the way his hips twitch. You keep your foot still, allowing him to set the pace, you don't want to risk hurting him.

"Go on then, be a good pet and finish already, I have more important things to do"

He tries his best to do as you say, but it's not enough, he whines, eyes tearing up and begging to you. It's overwhelming, but he wants more, he wants you to reduce him to a personal whore, your personal whore.

"Spoiled dragon" you sigh and throw the leash aside "alright, turn around and get on all fours"

When he does you laugh mockingly "so quick, do dragons not have any dignity?" Your heel slowly pushes in making Sylus gasp and moan. His hands clenching against the floor.

"Well maybe most do, but you certainly don't. I do wonder my sweet dragon, have you always been like this? It must've been really hard to hide it"

Your foot rocks back and forth, sliding through his loosened hole.

"My poor pet, bet it was hard to be without an owner for so long. Having to play the part of the big bad leader of onychinus, when really all you wanted was a master that could tame you and keep you in place"

Sylus nods and whimpers. He wishes he could speak, to agree with you. But like a good pet he stays quiet.

"Stupid dragon, all it can think about is getting ruined by its owner. Who would've thought that underneath all your tuff facade you are nothing more than a dumb slut"

His breath hitches and his body tenses, you can tell he is close. You double in on your efforts, one goal in mind.

"That's it, cum, I know you want to. Be a good dragon and show your owner how good she makes you feel"

The combination of your heel fucking him, and your words that make his mind spin with arousal, is enough to tip him over the edge. With a loud moan his body shakes, arms giving out making his front half slump against the floor.

You slowly pull your foot away, taking in the sight. His legs are spread and keeping his lower half up. Presenting his submission to you, and showing what a good pet he is for you.

You look down at the puddle forming under him, satisfied. Having being edged for hours, his realease hit him hard. Now it is time for the next part, the most important.

You take off your heels and toss them aside, moving to the floor next to him. Gently rubbing his back while he gasps for air.

"You did so well for me Sy, my precious boy" you move your arms around him for support as you guide him to the bed. Removing the collar as you do so.

He lays boneless on the bed, eyes dazed from pleasure, lost in his subspace. You carefully bring him back. Whispering praises and giving him soft touches and kisses. You're patient, taking notice of every little movement. You know it may take a while for him to be verbal. While you wait you give him all the love and attention he unconsciously needs.

You hum a simple song, just the way he likes, and pat his head.

"Take your time Sy, I'll be right here"

Smth like that idk I've never written anything like this before, js wanted to put my idea down somewhere. I'd prolly have to investigate before I write any more about this cause ngl this is not my area of expertise.